Archive of Our Own

A few years ago, if you had told Alastor that he was to be arm-in-arm with the Princess of Hell, as her parents -who were, in fact, the Morningstar and First Woman- watched them critic every piece of a blue striped suit, he'd have laughed at you. And then probably stabbed you to death, cut up your corpse, and fed every piece of your body to his darling alligators. But then again, a few years ago Alastor hadn't been dead, nor had he even made that fateful deal for his soul.

As it was, shopping with Hell's royal family was exactly what he was doing this dreadful day, continuing Lucifer's mandated "one family day a week" routine. Why that was still a thing when clearly him and Lilith had settled their dispute was something Alastor likely would never know, even though it was his involvement that even started this whole charade. Regardless, these little outings did do wonders for showcasing just how much sway Alastor had over Pride- maybe even all the rings of Hell.

And also, perhaps more importantly, it got him one more step closer to fulfilling his end of the bargain with Rosie.

Speaking of-

"Wearing blue in Pride doesn't even make sense! That's Lust's color," Charlie was saying, words channeling her mother with remarkable accuracy. She poked at the stripes then, and added with a tone that Alastor was pleased to recognize as all him, "And stripes? Yeah, real original. Dad's been doing that for the last, like, 300 years."

Alastor spared a glance to the father in question at that, who was glancing between two boots of different heels as if he were deciding how much height he'd be willing to risk a twisted ankle for. When he caught Alastor staring, Lucifer waved cheerfully. To Charlie, Alastor drawled, "To be quite frank, darling, your father isn't the most original man either. What do you think it'll take to branch out from ducks? The reminder that deer will eat them, hm?"

Charlie full body shuddered and pulled back from the suit. She said, "Ugh, no. Let's not tell him about that, actually. I'm worried that'll lead somewhere I don't want to think about. Actually, let's not tell Mom that either…" She blinked quickly. "Wait- deer eat ducks?"

"Oh yes! They will eat both plants and animals- with a special fondness for eggs! To be quite honest, some days I get a special craving for an omelette like nothing else."

"Huh." Charlie said intelligently. And really, what were those succubi teaching her? Nothing useful, it would seem. Alastor would have to fix that, too, as if he hadn't fixed enough of Charlie's lackluster upbringing.

Somewhere behind them, Lilith took that moment to ask the teller what fabric something was, and whether or not it was imported from Sloth or Wrath.

Alastor's ear twitched, unimpressed. Charlie turned towards her mother's voice and stared for a long moment; so long, in fact, that Alastor too glanced over, but all he saw was a dead-eyed sinner and Lilith in conversation. At least, until Charlie spoke up, and it clicked into place.

"Imps don't react like Sinners do to Mom." She said. "All Hellborn, actually. They respect her like a queen while Sinners…"

"Well now, I suppose that depends on the Sinner." Alastor replied easily. Hell's hierarchy- he knew that'd come into play sooner rather than later. Honestly, Charlie should've had a decent idea of it by now, and yet… "Your mother is the driving force behind the revolution, so many Sinners do respect her greatly. But you must remember, Charlie, that Lilith is hardly mentioned on Earth, and so for quite a few people, she is just like them. Second-class."

"But… Sinners aren't second-class!"

"Of course they are." Alastor flapped a hand lazily. "Lucifer and you, the Sins, the Goetia, even Overlords- most Sinners are treated like stepping stones. Sure, they rank above most Hellborn, but Sinners are a Pride exclusive, so really, that only applies here."

That wasn't even the half of it, either. Sinners, obviously, had more than just Overlords, free souls, and owned souls separating them. The type of Sinner one appeared in Hell as also influenced things, which was far too much like Earth-life for Alastor's interest. Predator-type Sinners like snakes and sharks and spiders ranked above Sinners who's forms haven't changed much since death like Carmilla, who in turn ranked above prey-type Sinners like deer and cattle and many species of insects.

But, then again, none of that was set in stone, either. An Overlord predator could very easily rank below a prey-type Overlord if one took into account owned souls and years of experience, for example, and many Sinners didn't precisely fit into the three categories of prey, human, predator. The rumors also played a part: take, for instance, the olden belief that prey-types were misplaced and originally Heaven-bound souls; some took this as an excuse to treat prey-types worse than imps, while others decided they were holy things that should be sheltered.

And then there was the fun little fact that Nephilim existed and were definitely intermixed with both Hell's and Heaven's populations, and Nephilim were ethereal as humans, so one must understand that when a creature like that dies, they are unnaturally strong the moment of their death. In this case, a new soul could rival that of an Overlord's strength.

Now, with all of that information, it would be easy to think "Well then, why do Sinners have all these complicated rules if every exception has an exception?" And to that, Alastor would cheerfully answer "For no good reason at all, my dear!"

Sufficed to say, the complicated aspects of Hell's hierarchy would be waiting a little longer. For now: Lilith.

"Which brings us back to your mother." Alastor leaned down to Charlie's height then, and grinned a sharp thing as he continued, "Who defied her original chains, who up until a few months has not been seen with her Sinner-hating husband, who is trying to fight back against an oppressive force." Alastor straightened once more. "They see a fighter, like them, who is not lording over them on a golden mantle, and respect that."

Charlie nodded slowly. Alastor could practically hear her thoughts swirling in her head (And that's almost quite literal, he'll reflect on later. Charlie's magic is growing to be akin to her mother's, like music notes. It's very possible for a being called the Radio Demon to pick up on a tune dancing in the air, even if that tune isn't quite whole) and huffed an amused noise.

He reached out to pat her head, ruffling that odd overhang of bangs she still insisted upon. "Worry not, my dear!" Alastor said. "I'm sure we could find a lovely school teacher somewhere around here to regale you with the wonders of soul dealing and power play! Hopefully one without sins of child molesting, but beggars can't be choosers, I suppose."

"Soul deals…" Charlie repeated. She bounced forward in her tippy toes then, eyes wide, and asked, "Dad said he hates Sinners because of what they do with free will, including soul deals. I know what murder and rape and all that stuff is, but-"

"But he's being shifty about soul deals?"

"Because he thinks it'll protect me, yeah."

Alastor scoffed. Nudging Charlie further into the clothes racks and away from any prying ears or overprotecting parenting, he hissed, "Remarkably irresponsible of him. If he wants to protect you, he'd tell you the warning signs. But fathers are always irresponsible, so what will complaining do?"

Charlie, helpfully, chirped from behind a mysteriously-sourced wool jacket, "That sounds like your daddy issues, Al!"

"Hush, you. Save that therapy talk for a drug addict or something." Alastor, too, crouched behind a jacket of his own- this one of an equally as mysterious leather. "Now then: deals. Typically made between those with souls- humans, in other words, and thus Sinners and Winners. Hellborn can make deals too, but they are much less powerful, as they do not transfer magic."

"I have magic, too!"

"Of course you do. According to that bumbling pastor downtown -when I was alive; don't give me that look- you'd be akin to a Nephilim. You're part angel, after all. Stay on topic now, Charlie. Deals can be an exchange of goods -information for information, a favor for a favor, a place to hunker down in exchange for immunity. But they can also be for souls. An afterlife of servitude for fame, or power, or even one's continued survival."

Again, because apparently Alastor was failing in the teach Charlie manners department, the princess interrupted, "You're the only one who's wiped another Sinner from existence- with your broadcasts! That's why Dad says Heaven's been getting antsy about overpopulation and Mom's rebellion. Why would someone need to sell their soul for their survival if it's not with you?"

"Because, little lamb, an existence of torture is hardly survival, and many Overlords like to have very bloody amusement at their parties," Alastor cheerily answered as he reached out to boop her nose.

"Such is the nature of man," Lilith's melodic voice suddenly cut in. "All for the sake of amusement."

Charlie near instantly shrieked out, "Mom! Hi!" Before promptly tumbling to the ground and dragging the entire rack down with her. Suits and jackets and, somehow, a top hat draped over her like ribbons. Charlie giggled, slightly hysterical.

Alastor, too, startled, though his was with an ear-splitting burst of static and a shout, and no knocked over clothing, "Sweet merciful Mary! Would you stop that?"

"No," Lilith answered smoothly. And then: "What are we unsubtly whispering about?"

"Your husband's shitty parenting."

"Soul deals!"

Lilith blinked slowly, even as she crouched down beside them with her skirt pooling around her like velvet blood. "Things that would upset Lucifer then, either way," she summarized, almost idly, as her hand first reached out to smooth over Charlie's messy hair, and then to Alastor's bristled ears. They both allow it, one from a love of motherly affection and the other from self-preservation. "I didn't think you'd tell her, little deer."

A rock dropped in Alastor's stomach. Charlie blinked slowly.

Quick as a whip, Alastor's Shadow -which had been preoccupied fixing the rack and strewn fabrics- shook its head with rapid vigor, all while Alastor shot the queen a sharp look. It was evidently too late for both, however, when Charlie asked, "Wait, tell me what? Was I just not supposed to know about deals at all? We're in Hell, mom. I'd find out eventually."

And this was the thing with both Lucifer and Lilith: they were not people, not like the rest of Hell. Lucifer was an angel from the dawn of time, who creates and obsesses and loves; while Lilith was the First Woman, no childhood in sight, and only Adam and the angels for company. Neither of them understood -neither of them could truly grasp- a human's fear or their desire to keep secrets or, most importantly, their silent means of communication. It was what led them to giving Eve the apple, after all.

But there was where Lucifer and Lilith differentiated in that regard. Where Lucifer would double down, righteous fury and Fallen wrath and youngest sibling snapping at the bits to be right, to prove himself above all, Lilith could hear emotions and react accordingly. Of course, sometimes that meant that she, too, screamed with the might of pure strife, but other times-

In this case, an act of mercy in Alastor's eyes, Lilith was quick to say, "Hm? No, no; of course you'd know eventually, baby. I just didn't expect Alastor to have been the one to tell you."

…Even so, Charlie was the accumulation of both her parents, and also her own person. She could read her mother's eternally expressionless face and her father's giggling laughter, and see what was hidden. But, above all, she was clever. Even if her words came out in a jumbled mess sometimes, and even if her inherited Pride sometimes acted as a blind, Charlie was as sharp as a knife poised at your throat. Essentially, as previously stated, it was too late to clean up this spill.

And so Charlie settled back onto her heels, and stared intently, and frowned. And then, what Alastor loathed to hear: "…Alastor made a soul dead." Charlie turned to him, ever so slowly, balled fists slightly shaking as she read him as well, despite his grin, despite his carefully still ears. "You… you're not here because you want to be, are you? You're here because of a deal."

…What could he say to that? What should he say to that? Alastor knew, were the circumstances different, he could very easily turn this into his favor: play the victim, turn Charlie against her parents and spin her right into his palm, wrench the reigns of all Hell for himself and him alone; or perhaps spin the tale of his victory, of his dominion over Lilith and Lucifer.

But some disgustingly mushy part of him stayed his hand. The part that thought back to the family dinner they had with the Sins, where Charlie so easily claimed him as a part of their family, lovingly while still so ignorant of the chains binding him there. The part that could still taste Lucifer's disgustingly sweet pancakes and hear those stupid rubber ducks hidden in every one of his radios in the palace. The part that remembers Lilith accepting that Alastor refuses to play the part of pet or partner or anything other than executioner.

So Alastor stays silent; Rosie's chain remains ever-swirling around his throat.

Lilith opens her mouth, for once no sweet, manipulative, rallying words falling from her lips.

Lucifer's pitter-patter of footsteps draws to a sudden halt.

And Charlie, their sweet little lamb-

Lets a tear fall down her cheek, which is followed by another and another and another, until there she sits, crying in the middle of a clothing store, as her parents and nanny hover awkwardly.

"Charlie," Alastor finally found it within himself to say. His Shadow darted down to wrap around Charlie's own, protective and comforting, as Alastor himself went to wipe a fat tear from those porcelain cheeks.

But Charlie jerked back with a loud sniff. She raised an arm and scrubbed at her face roughly, probably ruining her lovely black dress in the process. When she dropped her arm, she whispered, never once lifting her gaze to them, "To think anyone actually wants to be around me. I'm just an unwanted responsibility…… I want to go home now."

Lucifer tried next, the only parent who hadn't thoroughly messed up, even if he had no idea what was even going on, "CharChar… How about lunch? Some milkshakes from Heetz-"

"I want to go home now." Charlie said again. "And I will walk there alone if someone doesn't open a portal right now."

A beat.

And then another.

Lucifer opened the portal, magic gold and holy instantly giving Alastor a headache, but he kept quiet, as they all did, as Charlie stood and walked silently through the portal. After a moment's hesitation, they, too, followed.

The portal spit them out at the table in the dining room. Not the one reserved for parties and guests, but their personal one, nestled far into the depth of the palace. Alastor swept his gaze over it quickly. Over the vase misshapen and oddly colored and so clearly made by a child's hand, and yet so proudly displayed alongside morning glories. Over the smudge of maple syrup left uncleaned at Charlie's spot, and the ring stain of coffee at Alastor's, and how Lucifer's chair wasn't pushed in all the way, and the draped shawl atop the back of Lilith's chair. Over the domestically of it all.

Truly, what has become of the killer who crept through the shadows of New Orleans?

Alastor looked up in time to see Charlie's tail curl around a corner, disappearing from sight even as his ears kept track of her stomping footsteps all the way to her room. And it's then that Alastor gets his answer:

What happened to that nightmarish murderer?

A loving family. Apparently. As misshapen as the vase, as messy as their table, but one undeniably loving.

He fell, heavily, into Lucifer's chair. His head follows into his palms as he braces his elbows against his knees, and if Alastor's soul was not currently in the jewelry box of a cannibal, then he probably would've sighed it out with the heaved breath he gave. A moment later, Lilith's hand -manicured and warm- settled on Alastor's shoulder.

"I didn't think," she confessed, eternally dignified. "I had assumed you had warmed up to us enough and-… In hindsight, a mall would be unbefitting."

"A mall is unbefitting of a lot of things, Lili, including whatever that was!" Lucifer snapped. There's a ruffling of feathers, the slither of a snake's scales against fabric, and it doesn't take an expert to realize Lucifer's anger. "So what was that?"

Lilith answered easily, "A mistake. One that's easy to rectify."

"Oh? Is it? Because the fact that our daughter just stormed off in tears says otherwise!"

"She has done similar before. Broken toys, boyfriends, mushrooms- Charlie is still a child and will behave as such, Lucifer."

"Right, sure. So the fact that this is a childish breakdown is why your hired help is sitting there useless? Cut me the shit, Lilith."

"I'm still here," Alastor muttered into his hands. He was promptly ignored, and for once, he was remarkably okay with that. It gave him time to lament on what his mother would think of him now. Would she be disgusted and ashamed that her love wasn't ever enough for him, and that he's become something foreign to her? Would she be relieved and happy he's managed to find some form of affection? Both thoughts terrified him equally.

Lilith's hand tightened on Alastor's shoulder. Her words had a hint of a lit, like the beginnings of a song ready to burst out, "I simply had an act of misplaced judgment-"

"Oh, of course! Why did I ever expect anything different from you?" Lucifer hissed in return. Unlike his wife, there was no hint of music to accompany his words. "What. Did. You. Do."

"Charlie found out about Alastor's bonds. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Yes! Because I told you, I've been telling you since you brought that stupid radio in here and gave him Charlie and that royal title and all of it that this was a bad idea! But you never listen to me!"

"Because you never listen to me!" Lilith screamed in return. If Alastor could think past the realization of how horrifically comfortable he was, he'd be close to amused at how this argument could almost be remiss to his own parents. That probably wouldn't help with the spiral though. "You haven't for centuries now! Don't limit the Sinners to Pride- Heaven's obviously planning something. Don't let Satan lead the other Sins, he has no sense of judgment. Don't limit Charlie's interactions with her own people. All of it, you ignored!"

There was a sharp click of heels as Lucifer stepped forward. His wings, too, flared out with a snap. Sounding worryingly near tears, Lucifer cried, "What else would you have me do, Lilith? Disobey Heaven? That's why we're here in the first place-"

"And you say that like it's a bad thing!"

"It is! It's our punishment! Why are you so blind to it?"

"Why are you so blind to the joy we have here? Charlie and the Sins and the Goetia and- the Sinners, Lucifer. They're still souls! Yes, they chose to do bad things, but that doesn't make them all dirt!"

"Yes, it does! They kill and cheat and hurt children-"

"And what about Zestial? Who sends us tea blends he thinks we'll like and who doesn't let upstart Overlords get too full of themselves? And that woman at the bar who sent us home with a bottle of apple wine you liked?" Lilith's hand fell from Alastor's shoulder to his arm, and he was abruptly pulled to his feet. He hissed out a staticy warning, ears snapping back, but Lilith just brought her other hand up to Alastor's cheek to coax him to look toward Lucifer, as enraged as he sounded. "What about Alastor, who you bribe to make cinnamon rolls and fashion your ducks after!"

"He does what."

Again Alastor is ignored, this time to his displeasure. At the very least, Lucifer seemed to settle down, halo-snake settling back against his hat and pupils switching from yellow back to red as his eyes fell away. He said, ever-so-soft, "…It doesn't matter. None of this matters. You can keep… making your own decisions, hurting Charlie. I'm going to go be a father."

And then, just like that, the king pivots and stalks in the same direction Charlie left in. Like in the mall, there was a few beats of silence, a held rest, before one of them moved.

It was Lilith, shoulders sagging with a sigh. Her hands fell from Alastor to bury her face in, and she rasped out, "I hate arguing with him. I just… I miss the angel he was before: happy and creative. These past few months it seemed like he was almost back to that, with you and Charlie." Her head raised. Red eyes stared at Alastor, but no tears fell yet. "Be truthful, deer: is it me? Have I done this to him?"

"No," Alastor answered, before he could really process the question. It came to him like a bucket of cold water, however; one that shook him out of the daze. "No, of course not. If you were a leech to be around, Charlie wouldn't be as hopeful as she is. Nor would I be currently be going through a crisis of whether or not I would be here without the chains."

"…Would you?"

Alastor blinked, and his ears perked upright. "Would I what?" He asked, watching as Lilith got an odd look in her violet eyes, watering gaze instantly vanishing.

"Would you stay if I were to remove your chains?" Lilith repeated. She gestured, broadly, to the room at large, at all the little things Alastor hadn't thought to look at when they stumbled through the portal- the burn mark in the wall from when Alastor was teaching Charlie to cook and she accidentally swung a hot pan out wide; the beds for Razzle and Dazzle atop the china cupboard; the rug Lilith insisted they needed to hide a torn up part of the wooden floor. "Would you… want to continue to be with us? Us and everything that comes with it? Honestly, Alastor."

Alastor, for a moment, contemplated sitting down, but ultimately decided against it- he'd be too restless, especially if his swirling Shadow was any indicator. Instead, he roughly brushed a hand through his hair, claws tangling in stray knots, and answered, "I don't know. I want to say no, that the second I'm free I will run and never look back. Enough of this babysitting, this third-wheeling, this drama. Another part of me says yes, but not in the way you want to hear. That if I'm free I can stay and use you all." His Shadow shivered. Alastor dropped his hands and again met Lilith's gaze. "…I hate the fact that I actually do know what I'd do. And it'd be to stay as we are now."

The corners of Lilith's mouth twitched as if she was contemplating a smile. "Is the big bad executioner going soft?"

"Against my will, it would appear so."

"Heaven forbid," she teased. And then she nodded. "…I believe I know what to do. Perhaps you should go find Lucifer and Charlie. I imagine they'll want to talk to you, too."

"More like argue with me…" Alastor sighed. But then he shook his head and took a step back to bend into a bow. "But as my queen decrees!"

Then, with his traditional flourish, he, too, spun around the corner, heeled hooves clicking against the wood, and began his own march to Charlie's room. Or to Lucifer's, but probably Charlie's.

His Shadow followed along, as always, waving in an attempt to get Alastor's attention as it curled around family portraits and flickering lights. The striped wallpaper of red and white behind it practically highlighted every movement. Alastor took his turn to ignore someone and ignored it completely.

Besides, he knew what it wanted. He always knew- what with how they were bound together. But this was not a conversation Alastor wanted to have.

And if he did have the conversation, he'd resign himself to having it with Charlie. At least that way she could work through her own issues while also trying out her whole rehabilitation shtick. Then Alastor's Shadow could join in too and get whatever answer it was looking for without Alastor having to directly say-

Without Alastor admitting to such a weakness. One he should not have.

Still, even if Alastor wasn't going to talk about that, he was still going to talk to his Shadow. Silence had never been his strong suit, as many, many people would always lament. "I do hope Charlie calms down soon," he muttered, eyes flicking towards a door tall and mahogany that led to the rest of the palace, the part the public had access to. As silent as always, for no Sins nor servants dared to exist in these walls anymore. "I'd hate to have to bring her dinner up to her room. Sauce stains so easily."

Evidently annoyed, the Shadow knocked a candelabra off a forgotten dresser. The disturbed dust exploded into a cloud, the candelabra of pure gold plummeted toward the ground-

And one of Alastor's tentacles swept it out of the air and placed it where it was. The Shadow scowled. Alastor continued talking as if there hadn't been an interruption: "You're right; I should just make something else. Noodles are wonderful and all, but not after a day of crying. Perhaps we should trade it out for some omelettes? Meat, cheese, peppers… Onions? No, Lucifer doesn't like onion. Mushrooms, then. And I'll make sure they are small so Charlie doesn't see them."

The lights flickered quick, just as headache-inducing as Lucifer's holy magic. One shattered, letting glass fall to the ground and leaving the smell of smoke in the air.

Alastor clicked his tongue. "I suppose she does have a remarkably keen sense for when I sneak food into her plate. And it'd be a shame for her to feed it to Keekee. Can demon cats even have mushrooms?… Can regular cats have mushrooms?"

His Shadow nodded. Then, perhaps remembering it was mad at Alastor, tried to trip him. He skipped over it quite quickly and rounded another corner, toward where the bedchambers were. Alastor sighed at the sight, brisk walk slowing almost to a crawl.

Unlike most of the palace's halls, this corridor was empty of portraits. In their place were childish scribbles on the walls in every color, and stained carpet, and an antique radio covered in stickers. On the doors, too, were little plaques. The old one for the royal couple, decorated with stars, and Lucifer's private room with ducks, and Lilith's new room with roses, and Charlie's with music notes, and now Alastor's with little antlers.

And then, there, at the foot of Charlie's door, sat Lucifer. A pile of pancakes sat beside him, and Alastor watched with no small amount of horror as the ancient being forced a pancake in the crack between the floor and the door, cooing for Charlie to open up and come talk to her papa.

His Shadow shot him a look, then obediently curled up around his feet. Alastor scoffed- at it, at himself, at the situation. Regardless, Lucifer was only a few steps away, and soon Alastor found himself crouching down beside him and staring at the pink painted wood.

"That is incredibly unsanitary," he chirped helpfully. "And pancakes are hardly what Charlie needs right now."

"Right," Lucifer scoffed, not for a second stopping what he was doing. "Because you would know what's best for Charlie."

Alastor rolled his eyes. A slip of feedback escaped him as he shot back, "Why, of course I do! I do believe I have spent more time with Charlie than you have since her birth~" Alastor turned and snapped his neck, until his head dangled upside-down. "Tell me, my lovely little king: what's her favorite color?"

Similar to Alastor's static, a hiss spilt from Lucifer. He said, "That's a trick question and we both know it, Rudolph. Charlie doesn't have a favorite color- she likes them all."

"She likes them all, yes, but you're still wrong. She likes yellow the best because it's the color of your magic."

"…Oh."

Alastor hummed an agreeing noise, righting his head as he did so. Lucifer, finally, stopped sliding pancakes under the door. They were silent for a minute, in which Alastor swiveled his ears around to catch any sound of Charlie. There wasn't any, and eventually the quiet was broken by Lucifer.

"Your deal…" He began, promptly ignoring Alastor's second eye roll of the conversation, "what was it?"

Alastor didn't answer for a breath. In that time, he finally caught the creaking of a century old bed frame. There she is. Snooping, clearly, but Alastor couldn't be disappointed; he was, in any case, the one who told her to always gather as much information as she could, no matter the means necessary.

After another breath, Alastor said, "That's quite the personal question, you know!"

Lucifer didn't rise to the bait like before, which was disappointing. No, no, it was much worse than the fun they could've been having. Instead of any snark or wit, Lucifer turned to Alastor with a pathetically sad look on his face and said, "We told you you're family. We had an entire sit-down family chat about how we want you with us and are willing to respect your boundaries. You were there! It was literally last week!" Flames, which had begun to lick at the corners of Lucifer's mouth, were extinguished as the king sat back on his hunches and took a deep breath. It was a quick moment, barely even a few seconds, before Lucifer stormed on, "I argued with fucking Mammon about you. And you're telling me that you don't even want anything to do with us?"

"Don't you dare put words in my mouth," Alastor snapped. The bed creaked again- louder; a clear indicator Charlie sat up abruptly. So much for a confidential venting session. He's apparently having this conversation on the floor of a hallway. "No matter what delusional thoughts you have about me, sire, I do find myself regrettably attached to the lot of you. I've had several years now to become as such. Perhaps it's merely the results of me being stuck with you all with no say in the matter but-" Alastor's ears flattened, and then immediately snapped back up right. His teeth ground together with a sharp snap, and the radio nearby spluttered to life with his words, "I do… enjoy being around you three. For the entertainment, if nothing else…. And it would be a hassle to find others as amusing."

With that embarrassing display of honestly, the radio fell silent, and Alastor's ears yet again flattened against his skull.

His Shadow chattered nervously.

The floorboard creaked.

Lucifer sniffed wetly, and followed it up with a croak that shot and failed to come across as teasing, "You act like those words were dragged out of you. Are you allergic to being honest about your feelings or something?"

"Says the Sin of Pride," Alastor drawled. This he could do- teasing he could do. He tipped his head up and to the side, staring down his nose at Lucifer and ignoring his too bright grin and the pleased flush to his pale cheeks. "Honestly, have either your wife or you ever have a moment of genuine sincerity?"

"Well I am currently going through a moment of genuine sincerity, so yes, asshole."

"Really? I could hardly tell! You look like a complete mess so very often-"

"Nope. I take back every nice thing I ever said. Lili should've left you on the street corner where she found you."

"Funny thing, that-" Alastor began to say, ready to brightly explain that Lilith isn't even the owner of his soul, when suddenly something heavy settled in his chest. Just as suddenly, a weight lifted from his throat. Just as suddenly, there are visions-

"Mon bébé. Hush now; I'm alright. You're alright. Just breathe for me, cher."

-clouding his sight-

"Al, sweetie! Just the man I wanted to see! Hey, so, I'm short a dancer tonight~"

-and lying heavy in his mind-

"Ugh, it's Maria's boy. Damn brat's always wandering where he shouldn't- just sick the dogs on him and let's get out of here."

And then Lucifer's hands are on his shoulders, their faces barely a hair apart, and the king is shouting, "Hey, hey! Bambi! Alastor!" It's all shrill and full of fear, and his claws dig in painfully, and it's all much too dramatic and generally too much atop Alastor regaining feeling in his soul.

His soul.

His soul has- Alastor raises his hands to grip Lucifer's forearms, claws for claws. Distantly, he's aware that the door has opened, and that Charlie is now knelt beside them both, atop a pile of sad pancakes, already large eye blows wider as her phone rings with Lilith's number. That means something, Alastor knows, but it's quickly thrown out the metaphorical window. "Was the favor to just get you to experience a drop of human emotion?" He asks Lucifer, who in return, giggles slightly hysterically.

"What?" Lucifer shot right back. "What the Hell are you- No, no! Don't change the topic! Are you fucking okay? It looked like you were going to drop double-dead on us!"

"Do you take me for an imbecile? I refuse to have my second death be so lame as to keel over in the middle of the conversation!" Alastor snapped. Charlie hung up the phone as it went to voice mail, and then tried again. Alastor's claws grip Lucifer's arms tighter. "Focus now; focus! What emotion are you feeling?"

"Confusion, mostly!"

"Wrong!"

"Wrong? You asked what emotion I'm feeling! I'm feeling confused! How am I wrong about that?"

"Because confusion can't possibly be what did it! If it was, I would've just explained America's government to you weeks ago!"

The thick air and growing argument are both cut through cleanly by Charlie. She dropped her phone and shot to her feet with a relieved, "Mom!" Lucifer's hands suddenly pull from Alastor, and then he is rising to his knees with a grateful noise, and Alastor is left confused until a pack of ice is pressed to his feverish forehead in the form of Lilith's steady hands and expressionless face.

"Alastor," she spoke, gentle but stern.

"Lilith," he replied.

Lilith's thumb rubs gentle at the bags under Alastor's eyes, though she is careful to keep her nails to herself. "I take it, by all the panic these two are giving off, that your soul is back."

"It is. Was that your doing?"

"But of course."

Her other hand rose to cup his cheek, grin growing to match Alastor's. He wants to question her, to call Rosie, to wonder what these two baffling women are trying to accomplish, but then Charlie squeaks, and it makes sudden sense.

Everything -the origin of the deal, Alastor's presence in the palace, the rebellions and indulgence in rehabilitation, and now the breaking of the deal- everything has been done for Charlie. For her future, for the throne that awaited her.

So when Charlie grips the back of Alastor's coat, he hardly flinches. An ear does twitch, however, when she shouted, "Wait! Can I get filled in for once in my life? What's happening?"

Lucifer cackled and cackled and cackled in response. He doesn't stop until Alastor none-too-gentle elbowed him, but then he did gasp out, "Oh, man! Today's just been an entire waste!" Lucifer turned to Charlie then, who tipped her head into Alastor's like a curious puppy. Lucifer, finally, answered, "You're mom just broke Alastor's deal. So all this yelling and crying and dumb human emotions we've been feeling have been for nothing but theatrics."

Lilith tipped toward Alastor, whispering, "Maybe the deal should've been to get Lucifer to experience emotions properly."

Alastor said back, "I'm starting to believe you don't pay me enough for that."

Overtop them both, with the glee of a hellhound indulging in Sinsmas, Charlie clapped her hands together. "Really?" She asked with a gasp. "So Al's not going to be forced to stay here?"

"Nope. Like a dog broken from its leash."

"Call me a dog again and I'll slit your throat."

"You can try~"

"Okay, but- would you stop flirting; it's weird- but, Al…" Charlie's grip tightened impossibly further on Alastor jacket. He spun his head 180 to blink at her and her still wide gaze. "I'm happy your free! That means you're not forced to be here. But…"

Alastor's grin turned sharp, feral. He purred, the radio again coming to life with his voice, "You want to know if I'll stay here and continue playing the role of a domestic housewife~"

Charlie flushed, nearly to the point where she matched her cheek markings. A touch too loud, she answered, "W-well, no! I wouldn't word it like that, anyway… I just like how you cook! And fold laundry in a non-convoluted way…"

"Ignoring the jab at me," Lilith cut in smoothly. She scooted forward on her knees until she passed Alastor and could clasp Charlie's hands in one of her own (after peeling the one off of Alastor, of course). Lilith's other hand rose to cup her mouth as she pretended to, but not actually whispered, "Between you and me, I don't think your dear nanny is going anywhere."

Charlie's eyes began to sparkle. Lilith winked. Lucifer snorted. Alastor sighed.

"Keep rubbing it in that I've grown unfortunately attached to you lot, and I'm never making cinnamon rolls again," Alastor growled. Narrowly avoiding a flailing and wailing Lucifer, who faux begged for forgiveness in an attempt to get into Alastor's lap, Alastor added, far more pleasantly, "Speaking of! What do we think about stir fry for dinner? Truth be told, I do not think gumbo nor goulash is the best meal after… whatever this nonsense was."

Charlie tapped a finger against her chin and hummed, as fake as her father's cries. She said, "Hm… I suppoooose we could do stir fry. But I want something in exchange!"

An ear flicked. Alastor raised his eyebrow. "Is that so? Has—what was it; laundry?—has folding laundry to your preferences not been satisfactory?"

"Nope!" Charlie chirped, making Lilith snicker. "No. If you're staying here, flirting with my parents-"

"I am not flirting, Charlotte Morningstar!"

"He's right, you know. I'm the one putting in all of the effort."

"We, love. We are putting in the effort. And failing."

"Flirting with my parents-" Charlie repeated louder, then paused. No one interrupted again. She nodded. "Then I want to call you Papa. Or something in that vein, if you don't like papa."

Alastor opened his mouth-

Paused.

Thought.

At first glance, that was a very large jump, very fast. But Charlie has always been so full of love, and eager for support and stability. Stability Alastor could give, at the very least, in the form of dinners. Possibly forevermore as well, given his disgusting desire to stay apparently, which very well could've been due to conditioning, but also could've been simply an innate human desire for connection.

Not only that, but to have the princess of Hell call him by some kind or parental term… Alastor already had remarkable influence as Hell's executioner. If he were to become a consort, with his soul returned to him, the power he could wield would be unlimited!

And also, glaringly, Lucifer was successfully sprawled over Alastor's lap, and Lilith just shattered his chains, and Charlie's style was slowly beginning to mimic Alastor's…

No, calling him Papa was a remarkably small jump. Perhaps still a little quick -barely a handful of years. Certainly not farfetched.

Alastor sighed, bone weary, fond. One hand fell to card through Lucifer's hair. The radio ceased its static and melted into some gentle blues. His Shadow hovered, smug, in the doorway above Charlie. Alastor sighed again.

"Pére," he settled on. Alastor tried to ignore the way all three Morningstars lit up like their namesakes, and failed, feeling his cheeks light up red and his left ear twitch twice. "Pére is acceptable, if you simply must indulge in these-"

He's gets quite thoroughly cut off by Charlie launching herself at him. Alastor does not yelp, no matter what Lucifer has to say on the matter at a later date, but he does tumble backwards completely, back hitting the floor with a grunt and Charlie's golden locks falling in his face. Lucifer, pinned between them both, screeches like a fowl, tail materializing to whip up and around Charlie, who hardly seems to mind with how she's giggling. And like the cherry on the cake, Lilith, too, adds herself to the pile. She dropped down with an odd grace, almost breathtaking with how her hair flowed behind her and the way her dress sparkled. She ended up quite literally being breathtaking when she become the third body pressing down on Alastor.

"I take it all back!" Alastor hissed, voice underlaid with feedback. "Pére is not acceptable and I will be submitting my resignation tomorrow morning at eight AM sharp and if you three do not get off of me right this second I will tear your souls apart and eat them dipped in gravy!"

"That's nice babe-"

"Babe?!"

Lucifer wiggled from beneath his girls until he could cat-blink at Alastor. With zero indication he heard Alastor, he continued, "But there won't be onions in dinner, right? Because you know-"

"That you hate onions because they're bitter even though I can caramelize them and make them sweet, yes, I know." Alastor dropped his head back against the carpet, tiredly blinking at the ceiling as his struggling ceased. Rosie was right: relationships are such work. Still, his eyes fluttered closed, and he said, "No, Lucifer. There won't be any onions; I'll make sure of it. And yes, Lilith; yours will have extra vegetables."

Someone shifted. A moment later, Lilith pressed a kiss between Alastor's antlers. "What would we do without you?"

"Divorce," Alastor helpfully answered.

"Be depressed," Charlie added.

Lilith sighed, then pressed another kiss to Alastor's forehead. He felt her shift, and soon Charlie was giggling as Lilith no doubt peppered her with kisses as well. Lucifer made a kissy noise, and Lilith sighed again, and Alastor's eyes squeezed further shut as his Shadow darted over to sweep him and Charlie away before they accidentally because voyeurs.

A few years ago, he would have laughed if anybody so much as dared to breathe a hint of him getting swept up into someone's arms, of him with a child, of him dancing with the highest demons. One year ago, Alastor would've scoffed at the notion of willingly doing any of that, even if he had found himself in that very position.

But now? Suddenly on the kitchen floor, laughing alongside Charlie and his Shadow as Lucifer and Lilith rekindled their love on a floor that would need desperately cleaned after dinner? Well, Alastor just wished his mother could meet them- this messy little family he's found himself a part of. Because, as he was beginning to realize about himself, he was very attached and if anything happened to them, all three realms will be razed under Alastor's wrath.

Now, just what was he supposed to tell Rosie…