Chapter Text
Lucifer looked through his new domain. He had tried to save the angels by showing them the true unruly nature of humans. But his father screamed in his thundering voice the pain of the creator of everything telling him he was the poison of the universe making him want to expel the food he had eaten earlier in preparation for the battle. The thing that made him truly sick though wasn't the loudness of his father, that was normal, it was the opposite; The silent eyes of his mother. He couldn't even see her eyes as she looked down and away from him.
Her and his father were usually arguing at all times plague this, flood that. Silence from one of them was rare. She really hated him that much, his own mother couldn't bear to look at her failure of a child. He was sentenced to rule over hell while Saraqael and the others that had sided with him were just seen as a bit lower than the warriors that fought with God like his useless older brother Amenadiel.
He was alone and would die if he tried to go to heaven. Flames would apparently eat him alive but he would prefer that to his torture here. There was no angel that trusted him and no humans had been imprisoned yet so he was truly alone. A being that had only been alive for the human equivalent of 14 years fully alone and despised by all.
He fell to the ground well aware of his father's watchful eye, hopefully only looking for rebellion, not the tears.
The demons joined him just after the first human they came with their own armour and weapons. Weapons which could apparently hurt celestials. He kept that in the back of his mind letting it echo anytime he was alone. The voice got louder as time inches closer to the one year in hell mark.
On the day, he stole a beautifully crafted demon dagger. He ran down the halls until he saw the one door he hadn't opened in 365 days. He sat right next to it knowing if the blade didn't work he would let the flames do the job.
He inched his shirt all the way off and stared at his perfectly clean skin with only one problem; the inch under. He brought the dagger to his left wrist ten new scars, his torso five new scars, his right wrist three new scars, his neck one new scar. He was careful not to go too deep, especially on the neck.
He remembered his mother nearby behind one of the doors; she still probably hated him. She wanted him to do this. He remembered his father's terrified but watchful eyes; he had banished him. He wanted him to do this. He saw his siblings; they all wanted him to do this.
He stared at the door letting his wounds drip drip drip onto the stone ground. He knew his father was likely watching him do this. He knew his father was smiling while watching. He was close to the door which meant he was going to open it so he fulfilled his father's thought and did.
One foot in the silver city one out the half in the light started to burn. He quickly switched to the other half letting them both become terribly damaged. He was pushed back into his realm by that ass named Amenadiel. He was probably thinking Lucifer was trying to kill him but that wasn't the target. How could he kill the perfect son? The rebellious one? Well he deserved it, he was cursed, only hurting his family, he would be helping them if he died.
He kept trying to open the door and keep at least one part of himself on side for long enough but his brother was always there yelling that he needed to, “stop his rebellion”. Maybe that was his goal to finally stop it.
If he was dead who would he be rebelling against? Azrial? She might not even come get him, he could walk himself to his new home where he already was. Father? He never cared about him now his life would be better so no. Himself? Maybe but maybe he truly desired death.
After the scabs had stacked on top of each other at least fifty times. Lucifer kept trying as amenadiel pushed him out again he spoke, “Please, please let me, I deserve this”. His broken voice scratched out.
“You don't get to rule paradise” the older boy responded coldly, “only dad does”.
“I don't want to rule” a look of confusion flashed on Amenadiel’s face, “I just want to burn”.
“Well you cannot burn it down either.” The warrior stated.
“Not it, I need to hurt.” A final kick sent Lucifer into the wall where he was knocked out and healed for a few days. The demons didn't ask questions, not even when he staggered through the halls toward his throne shirtless with burns covering every part of him and blood slowly oozing out of his veins passing at least fifty of his ‘warriors’.
He wondered what his dad would think of him. Would he believe he was still so bad? Would he feel sorry for him? Either way Lucifer didn't want his pity because in the darkest recesses of his mind he knew he wouldn't have cut or burned himself if he didn't think his father thought he deserved it.
On the other hand he wondered what Amenadiel would think of him. Would he also feel pity? Did he even understand what his little brother was doing? What he was? Lucifer was a reasonable devil, he knew Amenadiel thought he was terrible so he used that. If the perfect warrior though he was terrible, so did everyone else.
For the next few millions of years kept the dagger in a compartment under his throne and used it regularly to add to the map of lines all over his body. Once the scabs broke off he learned he could change his face between his bloody red true form and a human looking form which he liked to pretend he was.