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When Charlie was born, the first thing she did was cry.
Yes, all babies cried. It was their natural state: wake up, cry, eat, poop, cry some more, then fall asleep once they were done bringing Hell down on whoever was unlucky enough to disturb their peace.
But Charlie was special. She was the Princess of Hell, daughter of the Morning Star and the First Woman. So of course, she was destined to outdo everyone else in all things.
Unfortunately, that included crying.
“What, what is it now!?” Lucifer groaned, wincing as the infant’s wails crescendoed into something truly apocalyptic. At this rate, she was going to peel the paint off the walls – and he had just finished her nursery mural! Her rosy cheeks glowed an angry red, her tiny lungs working overtime to pierce Heaven. Fat tears streamed down her little face, and her fists flailed like she was going to rip the universe apart if she didn’t get her… her…
Her what?
“Nom-noms? Rattle? Souls of the damned? A ducky? What do you want, Char-Char!?” Lucifer’s voice rose in desperation, echoing through the empty halls of the Morningstar Estate.
She was born three days ago. It had been three fucking days of this. She calmed down when held by Lilith or one of the nannies while Lucifer went to do King of Hell things, but the moment he returned? She would start up again, louder and angrier than before. It was like she had a sixth sense for his presence, and reserved every decibel in her tiny body just for him.
He paced the room, wings fluttering in agitation, spiked tail lashing back and forth. He nearly knocked his head against the chandelier, but he didn’t care. Gold and red eyes darted around desperately, seeking divine – or infernal – inspiration. The snake-and-apple mobile above her crib? Useless. The plush imp Ozzie had given them at the baby shower? Useless. The bottle he’d heated to just the right temperature using the ball of flame in between his horns? Extra useless.
She screamed harder.
“I’m trying, okay? But I don’t speak baby! Father took that from us when he tore down the Tower of Babel!” Lucifer shouted. “Why isn’t anything working!?”
As though in answer, the numerous eyes lining his tailcoat all shifted toward him at once. When he glared down at them, they blinked lazily, as if to remind him that he was the King of Hell, and previously the right hand of God. He could figure it out.
Stupid Father. This was why the humans started worshipping that golden calf instead.
While Charlie kept crying, Lucifer’s thoughts flickered over to Lilith. It was times like these when he really wished she was around and didn’t have her own duties to attend to. Whenever Charlie cried like this, all he’d have to do was hand her to Lilith and leave. Charlie would calm down immediately.
But that was the thing – he couldn’t rely on Lilith all the time. He was partially responsible for bringing Charlie into the world too. With a small sigh, he cast his gaze heavenward, as though he could somehow summon Father’s voice to aid him.
Not that Father ever would – Hell was a punishment, after all, and what could be worse than saddling Lucifer with Hell’s loudest baby?
He tried singing one of Lilith’s lullabies – a tune she’d use on the nights his nightmares clawed too deep. When Charlie wailed louder, he tried a silly dance instead. He flapped his wings, twirled his tail, and even stuck out his tongue in a way that made the eyes on his coat roll. It was ridiculous, undignified, and probably would’ve sold for a lot of money if Mammon had been here recording it.
Charlie remained unimpressed.
Desperately, he snapped his fingers and created a parade of rubber ducks. They marched in perfect formation, spitting tiny flames from their beaks. This was one of his finest works so far, complete with a shower of bubbles and a burst of sparkly magic at the end.
Nothing. She continued to bawl as though the world was about to end.
Defeated, Lucifer raked a claw through his disheveled hair. Why wasn’t any of this working!?
Maybe she just doesn’t like you, came the annoying little voice in his head. Lucifer scowled as he tried to push it away. The damn thing had been appearing more often than usual these days. Part of him half-wondered if this was part of his punishment too.
“She’s my daughter,” Lucifer snapped. “Of course she likes me!”
Does she, though? Or does she see exactly what you are? You’re no King of Hell. You’re a washed-up has-been whose only talent is disappointing everyone he’s ever loved.
Lucifer snarled. “You’re wrong! I’m—she’s—”
Face it, the voice laughed. You’re the reason she cries. She doesn’t want you. No one does. Why do you think you were cast out in the first place? You’re a failure.
“NO!”
Lucifer’s voice cracked, his fire flaring wildly around him. It licked up the walls in searing waves before settling into a trembling glow. Long shadows stretched across the nursery. Lucifer sank to the floor, both hands coming up to his head, tugging at the platinum strands.
The voice went silent. But somehow, its absence was worse. It left behind the echoes of everything it had said.
You’re a failure.
The accusation clawed at his chest, dragging memories to the surface. He heard the heavenly choir’s song twisting into a battle cry as his brothers turned against him. He saw the blinding light of Father’s judgement as he was cast away. He felt Lilith’s warm, trembling body against his, sobbing as they fell into the pit their pride and dreams had created.
He’d landed in agony, his once-celestial form crumpling into the dust. Lilith had wept for him, begging him to open his eyes. And when he finally did so and tried to call out – to beg forgiveness one last time – there had only been silence.
That silence had screamed louder than any reproach.
A loud, visceral sob ripped out of Lucifer’s throat. His fingers dug into his scalp. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could claw those memories out and cast them away. But he knew it wouldn’t work; no matter how hard he tried to ignore those horrible words, they stayed. They always stayed.
Disappointment.
Outcast.
Failure.
This was who he was, wasn’t it? The great Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell, Lightbringer, reduced to this – a father who not even his own child could love.
His wings drooped. The fire above his head dimmed. For a long, agonizing moment, he sat frozen, staring at the floor.
But then, Charlie’s cries shattered the stillness, piercing through his thoughts.
Lucifer looked up, golden eyes flickering to the crib. Letting out a slow, shuddering exhale, he rose to his feet. She continued to lay there, sobbing, little hands flailing, entire face a brilliant red. Completely, utterly helpless.
She needs you.
The thought wasn’t loud, but it did strike him like a stone on still water, sending tiny ripples through his core. She wasn’t rejecting him – she was just a baby. A frightened, confused, helpless baby. And he was her father. Whatever his failures, whatever his flaws, he had to be her father.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, he forced the memories back, pushing them down into the darkest corners of his mind. They’d fester there – for weeks, months, years, maybe even millennia - but at least they were out of sight now. Then, he straightened his back, smoothed his coat, and wiped some lingering sweat from his face. His wings folded as he turned to Charlie, a small smile creeping onto his face.
“Alright, kiddo,” he said softly. “I’m sorry about all that. Daddy’s here now.”
She wailed louder, as if to punish him for his spiral, but Lucifer only chuckled. It was hollow, strained, and about as real as Adam’s sex life, but it worked as a mask. Charlie didn’t have enough years in her to tell the difference anyways.
“Picky, aren’t you?” he asked, reaching into the crib to gently stroke her cheek with one massive hand. His claws retracted before he touched her, gently wiping away the tears. “You get that from your mom.”
Charlie’s cries didn’t falter, but she turned her head toward his touch, her tiny brow furrowing. Well, okay, at least that was some progress.
“Wanna try this again?” he continued, leaning closer. “I’ve got all kinds of angelic power to work with here… and I’m not giving up until we figure this out. Are you ready?”
Her response was more crying, but that was fine. He’d have to do his best with what he had. He conjured up a parade of ducks again, but this time, added tiny capes and hats. They marched across the crib railing, quacking in perfect harmony. No response.
He danced some more, wings flapping, tail curling, and even added some spins. The eyes on his tailcoat beat back and forth, clearly nauseated from all the turns. But still, nothing.
“C’mon, Char-Char,” he muttered, his voice hitching slightly. “How ‘bout something to work with here?”
Her cries softened. She opened her eyes. Fiery crimson met molten gold, and for a brief moment, Lucifer’s heart lifted. But then, she hiccupped and resumed, her wail even louder than before.
…What…?
Lucifer blinked, his chest tightening as a new idea came to him. Once again, he heard that nagging voice beginning to resurface, the memories threatening to leak through the cracks of his mind. But then, he forced them all back once again. He couldn’t let them do this to him. Not when he was so close.
It was time for one last trick.
Lucifer took another deep, steadying breath. Then, his eyes slid shut as he allowed the transformation to take place. His horns receded, curling back into his skull until they disappeared. The eyes scattered across his tailcoat blinked one last time before vanishing. His spiked tail vanished, and his towering form shrank all the way down until he barely cleared the top of the crib with his chest. The fiery aura that clung to him dimmed, replaced by a soft, golden glow.
When he opened his eyes again, they were softer now – more gold than red. And when he reached into the crib, his hands were far smaller – more of a porcelain doll than a demonic being.
Charlie’s cries faltered into soft hiccups at his touch. Her wide, teary eyes blinked up at him. Her expression shifted from fear to cautious curiosity.
Lucifer’s slender hands gently cradled her tiny form as he lifted her from the crib. She didn’t flinch this time. Instead, she reached for him, tiny fingers curling around the fabric of his coat.
“There we go,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His voice cracked as he spoke, relief flooding his chest. “It’s alright, kiddo. Daddy’s got you.”
Charlie hiccupped once more, then snuggled into his chest. Her tiny frame relaxed completely for the first time since she was born.
Lucifer held her close, swaying gently as he began to hum an old tune – one he hadn’t sung since long before the Fall. It was a soft, lilting melody, full of light and love. It was the same song Father sang the day he shaped Lucifer into existence.
Charlie gurgled happily, her tiny hand resting over his heart. Slowly, yet surely, she drifted off to sleep, her face relaxing into a contented smile. Warmth gently flooded Lucifer’s chest as he stroked her tiny tuft of golden hair and pressed another kiss to her head.
He wasn’t perfect – far from it, really. He was still broken, still scarred, still burdened by the weight of his past. But for her, he would try.
For her, he could still be better.
For her, he would change a thousand times over, in every way possible.
For her, he would do anything.