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Lucifer holds a pristine frame within gentle hands, staring into the merry expressions frozen forever within the picture captured well over a century ago now. Somehow it feels like millennia since the photo was taken. Despite all the power that fills his immortal body he's unable to stop the tears from springing to his eyes. It's not a particularly special picture, just a Sinsmas from years past with all the sins gathered at the palace to celebrate together. His face stares back at him tinted with sorrow despite the soft smile he wears, a bittersweet note tainting the joy in the air. But that was why they always spent the season together, wasn't it? Lucifer always struggled with Sinsmas despite the holiday bringing joy and love to his realm, another of many aspects of Hell that felt like a reminder of his punishment. The other sins had their creations made in their image; hellhounds, imps, succubi. Demons born of sin who can rejoice in their unholiness without restraint. Lucifer was cursed with the sinners, the worst of free will meant to haunt him.
He skims a scarred thumb over the image of Lilith and Charlie, his little girl still a teenager back then and his stunning queen the picture of maternal adoration as she easily props Charlie's lanky form up on her hip while her other arm curls supportively around Lucifer's shoulders. Charlie still has her braces. Lilith’s soft face wearing such a loving smile on dark-painted lips is all it takes to push his tears over the edge.
He decided to retreat back to the palace for the holidays. He knows it was selfish— it is selfish— and he should have at very least warned his daughter but the last thing he wanted after her hotel finally started gaining the traction it deserved was to ruin her Sinsmas. He's already taken so much from her. His room at the palace is still piled with ducks the same way it had been before he moved into the hotel and his bed is still just as huge and empty as it's been every night for the last seven years. Lucifer's been tucked away by his lonesome for the past few weeks now and he wasn't prepared for the isolation to hurt so badly after only a month or so of interacting with others again. The silence is absolutely crushing and the halls of the palace have never felt so empty.
He doesn't know when his hands started shaking. He's been perched on the edge of his bed hunched over this photo for Hell knows how long now yet he can't recall when the frame began to tremble between his palms or when the glass became coated in teardrops. Ha, a day to celebrate sin and the father of sin himself is anything but prideful, squirreled away and hiding from the outside world again the way he is.
But hey, good. Good.
He wasn't supposed to be celebrating. He didn't deserve to celebrate. Typically he was more than happy to throw a big middle finger up into Heaven's face while he basks in the excessive and dangerous festivities despite the darker thoughts that stirred in his mind every once in a while, fighting through the fog of depression to enjoy the wonders that have come from the cruelty of Heaven's judgement. After everything that's happened and everything he's done he deserves to rot.
Charlie hasn't even spoken to him since she kicked him out. He was terrified that she would cast him away again but he was lucky enough that she allowed him to stay, even if she's barely so much as looked his way since. He'll take whatever grace she's willing to give him and in return he'll give her as much space as she needs until she can bear to look at him again— if she could ever bear to look at him again. His hold on the once happy memory tightens and he sniffles pathetically. What a sight he has to be. The only good thing about suffering alone like this is that no one else could ever see how worthless he'd become. He places the photo aside before he might break it, resting it carefully upon his mattress before he pries himself from the bed and onto his feet. The idea of spending another second in this room makes him sick and the sudden desire to get out makes him flee like Michael is on his heels. The halls are barren, the portraits and any homey decorations long since stripped away to leave only a lifeless interior. The walls feel too high and his lungs too small and he's grateful when he finally bursts into the grand foyer. As the space opens up and the walls stop closing in he can finally take a heaving breath. Fucking Hell, what was wrong with him? A hysterical bark of laughter fills the space and he runs a frantic hand through his hair, "A better question would be what isn't wrong with me."
The foyer is just as desolate as the rest of the palace, colored in reds and golds and void of any and every thing that once made this grand building feel lived in. It was all too painful to look at these days, he just has too many pictures of the family he lost and all the trinkets they loved. He couldn't truly be rid of them, of course, but even all the boxes he summoned for them were tucked away somewhere in all the rooms he no longer had any use for. The ever-present pit in his chest sinks its claws in to make sure he feels just as hollow and dead as this place. It's too much. It's crushing him and he can't explain why but he can't let himself linger on it or he'll spiral. With a desperate jerk of his hand a dark pine far larger than need be materialized in the center of the room with just enough space around it to avoid blocking the grand staircase. He doesn't know why he bothers, he's the only soul here and it's not like he actually needs to use the steps. He leaves the tree free of decorations and instead summons a few of the boxes from around the palace to stack neatly around the base of the pine. It's been some years now since he decorated for the season. Even before Lilith's disappearance he'd taken to spending the days in the other rings with his fellow sins. The distraction right now is more than welcome and he hopes that the holiday cheer might make him feel less empty.
In a swirl of hellfire he teleports down and unfolds the top of the first box. This one is filled with vibrant tinsel, one long bundle in red and another in gold of course. These were one of Charlie's favorites when she was small, she loved the feel of the synthetic material between her chubby fingers, and she was always so insistent on putting it up herself so she had an excuse for Lucifer to fly her up in his arms. He scrubs away some of the tear tracks starting to dry on his cheeks with the heel of his palm and smiles fondly. Without his daughter here he doesn't bother to put it up manually, instead floating them up to spiral gracefully around the tree on their own while he moves to the next box. Oh, these were some of his favorites. There were plenty of bobbles within this one enchanted to hold lovely swirls of glitter within that continued to dance even when still. Lilith wasn't the happiest with them when he first made them, she thought they looked like they were filled with ichor and it was only his she ever saw spilled. She came around to them after Charlie was old enough to start saying full sentences though. They look like magic, Charlie had said with wide eyes filled with wonder. After that Lilith loved them too. Lucifer takes one in his hand and takes a moment to stare into the storm inside. They really were beautiful, filled with his bright magic that his daughter so adored. His wings unfurl absently from his back while he turns the smooth glass within in hand. He would like to put up a few of these himself, he thinks. He shakes out his feathers a bit before flying up to the top of the tree, hovering a trail of the ornaments behind him to make the process easier.
He was a perfectionist at heart, as he always has been, so each bobble was placed meticulously. They had to be spaced perfectly; not too close together or too far apart and if they weren't even spread throughout the branches he might as well set the whole thing ablaze and try again. He was known to spend hours tweaking the decorations and in turn Beelzebub was known to move things out of place on purpose just to fuck with him. He hasn't seen Bee in a long while. It's not like she hasn't given him plenty of opportunities seeing as she's reached out plenty of times since he became a recluse. They all had. He hums noncommittally to himself, moving efficiently down the tree until he ran out of ornaments. He blinks when he reaches out for the next and grabs at nothing, brows furrowed as he calls the next box over with a flick of his wrist. It's so easy to get lost in the rhythm of it, the addictive thrum of creation drawing him in until time was but a fairy tale and his only thought was what to add and where.
Memories naturally spark to life with each box opened. One box contains honeycomb bobbles that Bee brought one Sinsmas as a surprise, Lucifer remembers crying and Bee herself laughing as she wrapped him excitedly in her four arms. The year after Ozzie and Bel brought decorations of their own, a set of bobbles shaped like stars that shone with cyan flame and a tree topper shaped of a sleeping white snake curled around a wine-colored apple respectively. Lucifer cried then too. The others wouldn't be left out but that worked out wonderfully since Lucifer would've asked them to bring him additions of their own if they didn't bring them on their own accord anyway. The year after Ozzie and Bel he got he got ornaments filled with water from Envy that blinked with lovely turquoise light and a string of hellfire from Wrath that lined the branches alongside the tinsel. Mammon, predictably, was the last to participate. Lucifer expected something ridiculous like dollar signs or money bags when Mammon finally showed up one Sinsmas with a gaudy gift box. He was pleasantly surprised when he received lovely plush jesters that could sit perfectly scattered along the railings of the staircase. He cried then too.
One by one the memories filled the foyer and covered the tree and with each addition the permanent band around Lucifer's chest loosened.
He was so lost in the peaceful moment that he nearly jumped out of his skin when a quiet knock sounded on the front doors before they slowly creaked open. Lucifer's brows furrow and he pause up by the top of the tree to turn towards the intruder. Who in all the seven rings would be at the palace that had the confidence to just walk in unannounced? He only gets a glimpse of pale gold hair and rosy red cheeks and should he have a human heart he's sure it would have stuttered. "C-Charlie!" He greets, a strained smile on his face while he glides hastily down to the floor. He struggles to decide whether or put down the bobble in his hand or go welcome his daughter properly which just leads to an awkward dance of him making several aborted moves towards the nearest box of decorations. "What are you doing here? It's a pleasant surprise! Of course it is, but shouldn't you be… home?" At the hotel, away from him, with the people she loved. The ones who didn't fail her again and again and again. He turns away from her to put the bobble away and hopefully hide the grimace on his face.
Charlie's wearing one of her many many Sinsmas sweaters, this one a deep ruby red with white and gold knitted neatly along the trim. Across the chest bright golden words read Hell's Best Princess and beneath it there's a cute rendition of her own face with a precious mouth shaped like a three that a serpentine tongue sticks out of and angry eyebrows to complete the mischievous expression. Charlie's pride was so endearing it always succeeded in fueling Lucifer's own. Her face now is a direct juxtaposition, eyes worried and mouth tipped downward. She hesitates in the doorway before she enters fully and Lucifer's heart aches fiercely seeing his own daughter think twice about walking into her own home.
"Hi, dad." Charlie waves weakly with a tense smile on her face. She clasps her hands in front of her and sweeps her eyes over the room, humming a directionless tune to cover the silence. They both know she's mostly avoiding eye contact but the cover makes them both feel better. The distance between them feels agonizingly long as her heels clack against the ornate flooring with each slow shuffling step towards him. "You're decorating." Her tone aims for cheerful despite the obvious discomfort she wears.
"Oh! Um, yeah." Get it together, Lucifer. Duh, she sees the tree. His wings ruffle anxiously and he draws them tightly against his back to keep them still. "I suppose it was getting a little too dull for my liking." Too suffocating, he means. The depressive weight of his drowning loss and self-deprecation hit him like a meteor and he scrambled for anything to push it away. He clears his throat and meets Charlie's wandering gaze, "What do you need, duckie?" He prods softly, imagining it must be important if it took her away from her loved ones on Sinsmas and especially pressing if she went through the effort of seeking him out. Charlie averts her eyes and stares intently at the floor, shuffling her hooves. Lucifer doesn't hesitate this time to close the distance between them, reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand as he steps up in front of her, "Oh, Charlie. Whatever you need, you know that, right?"
She sniffles wetly and scrubs at her eyes with one hand while the other reaches up to lightly hold on to Lucifer's wrist. The smile on her face is soft and fond and she giggles, "I know, dad. Thank you." Her reassurance soothes his instinctive concern but it only makes his confusion grow stronger. Charlie must see the questions forming on his face because the smile drops just as quickly as it appeared. Her grip on him tightens just slightly and she tilts her head into his palm, her other arm curling insecurely around her waist. "I didn't come to ask you for anything I…" she trails off and sniffles again. She looks devastated. "Dad, I wanted to apologize."
"What?" Lucifer breathes. He's horrified by the implication. He reaches up to hold her face with both hands now and he swipes his thumbs lovingly under her eyes when a few emotional tears drip from her long lashes. "Charlie, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for." Where she got the idea is beyond him but he wants to shut down that line of thought immediately. She's done wonderfully these past few months with all the stress she's been under and all the trials she's had to face. "You've accomplished so much, Char, and you've done it all because you're strong and kind and I'm so so proud of you. What could you possibly be sorry for?" If anything Charlie somehow looks ashamed hearing his words and he's grasping at straws trying to figure out what it is he's doing wrong. She closes her eyes and bites her lip, ducking her head so strands of gold fell over her face. Lucifer extends his upper wings to softly wrap around them, starlight shimmering within the red of his feathers and embracing them in turn in a warm glow. "Charlie," he implores.
"I didn't even notice you were gone," Charlie confesses like she's committed some horrible crime, eyes fluttering open but refusing to look up from the floor. Guilt clings to her eyelashes in the form of glittering droplets that tumble delicately to the scuffed flooring.
Though the meaning behind the words still make his eyes burn he chuckles through the lump in his throat, "I didn't expect you to."
That gets her attention. She snaps her head up to look at him in alarm, eyes wide and suddenly forgotten tears running in rivulets down her face. She takes both his wrists in her hands this time and lowers them from her face, though she makes no move to let go. "Dad," She whimpers and Lucifer would much rather spend the rest of his endless existence in that stupid round not-box than ever hear her sound like this again. "How could you say that? I should have noticed."
Lucifer doesn't know what to say. He doesn't want to somehow upset her more just because he's painfully inept. He stares dumbly at her for far too long trying to decide on his approach only to be snapped out of his stupor when Charlie's lip wobbles dangerously. A low whine rings out from the back of Lucifer's throat like he was a lonely hellpuppy. "Honey, you're so busy right now. You're suddenly surrounded by more guests in the hotel than you've ever had and you're still putting things back together after the rude V.C.R. or whatever figured he was hot shit." Charlie snorts a laugh and, while Lucifer isn't sure what it is he said that was funny, he's glad to hear it. She releases her hold on him and rubs the heels of her palms into her eyes with a soft sound of frustration and what he believes is a muttered apology. That wouldn't do. "After all the trouble I've caused you I didn't want to intrude on your holidays. I'm sorry you felt the need to come check up on me, you should be with your friends."
Charlie shakes her head and lowers her arms, looking at him like she was seeing something that's been hurting her for the first time. Nausea churns in his got but Lucifer can't fault her for looking at him like that. She sucks in a deep breath and releases it slowly so Lucifer waits patiently for her to compose herself. When Charlie seems to settle she reaches out to place her hands on his shoulders, the same determined glint in her eyes that Lucifer's seen time and time again when she's managed to do the impossible. "Okay, I need you to listen to me right now and you listen good mister!" Lucifer has to press a fist to his mouth to hold back his laughter and Charlie absolutely preens like she won some sort of prize. "I shouldn't have kicked you out. I tried so hard to apologize but I guess by that point Vox already took you and things just got so much worse so quickly and I was overwhelmed and it felt like everyone was against me and I took it out on you— I didn't feel obligated to come and find you, dad, I wanted to. I've only had you back for a few weeks and I don't want to lose you just because I couldn't control my temper."
That was the last thing Lucifer expected to hear. His little stunt at that insignificant little peon's rally caused so much damage that Charlie had to clean up and regardless of why he'd done it the results were the same. He was absolutely appalled when the aftermath was just another burden he placed on his daughter's shoulders. He was trying to be better, a father worth being in her life and a the king she wanted so strongly for her people, but even with all the effort an angel could possess he still always manages to fall short. Yet, somehow, here Charlie was. She saw the failures he thought her right to cast him away for but she stands here adamant that she thinks otherwise. She stands in front of him right now filled with regret despite Lucifer's involvement only ever causing problems— for Hell's sake, he literally powered the big bad super weapon that nearly took out Pentagram City.
He knows by know how to face the consequences of his actions, most of his existence has been shaped by those very consequences, "Charlie, it was only fair—"
"No it wasn't! You were trying to help, and Vaggie told me that she asked, and when the hotel got destroyed you were there for me and then the second something doesn't go as planned for you I yell at you? I kicked my own dad out of the hotel that I asked him to come to! Who does that!" Charlie throws her arms in the air and her elbow clips one of his wings in the arm. The limb twitches and flaps instinctively away and he draws them back in at the reminder that he's cocooned them to begin with. It doesn't seem like Charlie really needs that comfort at the moment and as her passion grows so will her wild gesticulating. "And! And! It's been weeks and I can't remember talking to you at all after Vox and he used you as a fucking battery?"
Lucifer can't help but chuckle fondly, amusement mixing with his concern as he watches Charlie work herself up. It not hard to catch one of her waving arms and when he grabs her bicep she falls abruptly silent, staring at him with a pout on her face. "Charlie, I'm the King of Hell. As much as it sucked the only thing that was sincerely wounded was my pride. I'm okay. I just thought you were still, ya know, mad at me." He grows more sheepish the longer he speaks, his comforting tone slowly becoming more uncertain with every passing word.
Charlie tugs him into a tight embrace and he squeaks when his many wings are smashed unceremoniously together. "Ah! Sorry, sorry—" She works to readjust her grip while Lucifer hugs her back with a matching intensity. "I thought you would've read my texts by now?" she mutters into his hair.
"Oh, the evil not-box totally destroyed my phone. I haven't really had the need to replace it. King shut-in and all that." He laughs stiffly into her collarbone, glad that his head was turned away from her. He really hadn't spoken to anyone for years and he knows the way he acts these days reflects that. He likes to think he used to have the bumbling more under control at least.
“You’ve spent this whole time thinking I was mad at you?” She sounds so terribly sad.
“Don’t worry about it! It’s not like that’s new!” Lucifer assures swiftly. Charlie makes a wounded noise in the back of her throat and Lucifer thinks he’s made another mistake somewhere.
“Dad, that’s not okay. That’s, like, really depressing.” Charlie’s arms tighten around him, the strength of a nephilim not anything to be sneezed at given the weak ache in his bones. “I promise I’m not mad at you anymore. I was only mad for fifteen minutes at most.” It’s such a sweet sentiment and Lucifer knows that even with Charlie’s innate need to make everyone feel welcome she still strives to be honest. She wouldn’t lie and tell him he was wanted if she didn’t mean it.
Lucifer melts into her embrace and curls blackened fingers into the soft fabric of her sweater. “Thank you, sweetie. I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble.” If she was going to apologize for something he really didn’t think she had to he was more than happy to return the favor. He needs her to know that he really, truly never meant to hurt her or the hotel. Charlie breathes in and he knows she plans to retort so Lucifer is quick to cut her off before they could start going in circles, “I know you don’t think I should be, and I love your endless forgiveness, but I am truly sorry, okay?”
Charlie sighs and nuzzles her face into his hair, “Okay.”
Love blooms in the hollow chasm beneath his ribs, chasing away the chill of loneliness and regret and making the tree behind him feel less like a distraction and more like the celebration it was meant to be. He doesn’t know how he was blessed with a daughter so endlessly pure and bright in these horrible pits but he’s grateful every day that even condemned to eternal damnation he can find happiness in his endless punishment. Charlie pulls away from the hug first and Lucifer begrudgingly lets her go, stepping back and stretching his wings out to shake off the lingering throbs. This time the look on her faces matches the one on her sweater. “I know you’re really anal about it, but! Do you think I could help you finish the tree?” Her eyes twinkle with hope and wonder and Lucifer’s heart soars.
Lucifer nods, humming thoughtfully, “I think I could survive that,” he concedes, folding his arms neatly behind his back while rocking onto the heels of his feet. Charlie absolutely beams at him and Lucifer thinks, not for the first time, that despite all the horror and hurt having Charlie still made his fall worth it. Charlie excitedly rushes past him and he twirls around to watch her start opening the boxes and rooting through them. She gasps and coos as she finds all the decorations she remembers from her childhood but Lucifer startles when she hisses a victorious yes! and scoops something up with vigor.
Whatever it is she’s grabbed she cradles it in her hands like it’s her most cherished possession as she wanders back over to his side. “Dad, I think this one should go up towards the top of the tree.” She lowers her cupped hands to show him a decently sized ornament, a piece of paper held within a golden hexagonal frame, with a childish drawing of Lucifer in his full demon form and a small Charlie at his feet. In scribbled letters written in the spirit of pride it reads My Dad is the best Dad!
Lucifer has tears in his eyes for the third time tonight but for the first time they’re brought on by nothing but sheer love. He looks up to see Charlie’s soft smile and kind eyes and can’t help but smile back. He cups his hands under hers and extends his wings, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” It’s easy to scoop Charlie into his arms even though she’s much larger now than she was the last time they’d done this, an arm behind her knees and another supporting her back. She looks up at him with such unmasked adoration as he flies her up to the top of the tree that he feels like the father she thought she had for the first time in his life. He watches as she eyes the branches and searches for the perfect spot. Finally, she reaches out and settles her creation neatly into place.
“Is that good enough for you, dad?” She teases.
“It’s perfect.” Lucifer wouldn’t dream of moving it. The emotions behind the act made wherever his daughter placed it the best spot it could possibly be. “Charlie,” he looks down and meets her eyes, watching as her playful expression softens with warm curiosity. “If pride must be a sin then you should know that, in all of creation, you are my greatest sin.” Her eyes widen and her mouth pops open with a soft oh. She throws her arms around his neck and pulls him into another hug somehow more emotional than the last.
“Do you think maybe we can invite the others?” Charlie asks, intentionally vague. Lucifer doesn’t really know who the others are and he's fairly certain that's intentional on her part. It could mean the Sins, her gaggle of sinners, or even both if she was daring.
The palace is so empty and lifeless.
“Not Alastor.”
Charlie laughs loud and bright and her smile is more glorious than any star he ever crafted, “Okay, Dad. Not Alastor.”