Chapter Text
Seven days. That’s how long you have left in the Devildom. Lucifer had made sure to remind you of your approaching departure a week or so ago, so that you could make preparations. And yet, you still haven’t found time to discuss your leaving with the rest of your housemates. It just never seemed like the right time.
You’d been just about to broach the topic when Levi started going off about the new game he pre-ordered and how much you’d like it, and you didn’t have the heart to remind him that you wouldn’t be here to play it.
You’d been preparing post-workout snacks for Beel in the kitchen, and you’d meant to bring it up while he was quietly munching away, but then he’d said something about how everything he eats tastes better when you’re around, and you’d found yourself suddenly too emotional to talk about it.
Satan should have been easy. The plan was simple. Corner him alone in the library, tell him you’ll miss him, and give him a hand-made book-mark to remember you by. But when the time came, he’d looked up at you with a wide smile and asked what the occasion was, and you’d blurted out: Just because!
You’re worried about Mammon more than anyone. In fact, you haven’t even tried to bring it up with him yet, worried he’ll do something crazy like avoid you for the rest of your time here, pretending he won’t miss you to make it easier for him to let you leave.
It’s in such a mood that you find yourself pacing the grounds at RAD after hours, reluctant to go back to the House of Lamentation when you’re feeling so low. And it’s here where Lord Diavolo finds you.
“Why, MC! Just the human I was looking for.” Lord Diavolo’s grin forces the corners of your lips upward just a bit, despite your mood. Seeing him is always a nice surprise, especially since he’s usually busy with academy affairs or personal projects.
“Good evening, my lord!” You say, stopping to wait for him on the path as the royal makes his way towards you.
“A very pleasant evening indeed.” Lord Diavolo agrees, coming to your side. “Do you mind if I walk with you?”
“Please do.” You say with a smile, and the two of you set off to continue on your way around the school grounds.
As you round a bend in the path, you come into the courtyard where mirage flowers feature in the center of an already vibrant garden. The rainbow blossoms bring back memories of the time you helped the brothers solve the mystery of the disappearing plant, only to find that Lord Diavolo had been the one removing them from the wester forest, bringing them here to decorate the school grounds. The memory is bitter-sweet, and you stop walking without really intending too, staring at new buds sprouting among the leaves. Will I be here when they bloom?
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Lord Diavolo asks, crossing his arms and following your gaze.
He doesn’t need your confirmation, but you nod affirmatively anyway. “Absolutely.”
The flowers glow in the twilight darkness of the Devildom, and you can tell it’s growing late by the gentle hum of nocturnal insects that fills the garden with melancholy music. Lord Diavolo studies you, noting the way you hold your arm and stare, unmoving, at the center of the landscape, as though you’re seeing through it.
“Is something on your mind, MC?”
Lord Diavolo’s question brings you back to your senses, and you raise your face to see him watching you with concern. “I’m sorry, my Lord. I was just… thinking. It’s been a long year.” You say, glancing away from him again to the impressive, castle-like buildings that surround you in the courtyard. “So much has happened.”
“That’s true.” Lord Diavolo says, looking thoughtful. “I hope you’ve found your stay pleasant, even so.” His fingers tap his arm absentmindedly, as though he’s anxious to learn if you have enjoyed your time.
“I have.” You almost whisper, the emotions of the evening swelling in your chest, bringing tears to your eyes. Seven days. That’s all I have left. The mirage flowers become bright, blurry blotches as you blink rapidly, trying to hold back from all-out crying in front of Lord Diavolo, of all demons.
“May I ask what’s wrong?” You feel Lord Diavolo’s presence shift, drawing nearer to you, and he offers up a black handkerchief. You take it silently, not trusting your voice, and force in a shaky breath as you blot away the tears that have begun silently tracking down your cheeks. Lord Diavolo’s expression is concerned, but you turn away so he can’t see the mess you’re making of your face.
“I’ll miss them.” You finally manage with a last dab to your eyes, knowing he’ll understand who you mean. And… you’ll miss Lord Diavolo, too, you realize. His welcoming laugh, his optimistic attitude, his passion for every new project he takes on, every mischievous plan he orchestrates. You take another deep breath. “I’ll miss everyone.”
“I’m sure this won’t be a final goodbye.” Diavolo says quietly, trying to reassure you, worried at the suddenness of your outburst.
His words have the opposite of their intended effect, and your tears once again begin to stream steadily. You’re unable to hold back the hiccupping sobs that break through against your will as you attempt to stifle them with the handkerchief.
Lord Diavolo panics a little; this isn’t the strong, brave exchange student he knows – the one who stood up to Lucifer, who charmed a demon dead-set on hating humanity for eternity, who traveled through time to find answers and almost died in the process. This isn’t at all like the confident human he’s grown so very fond of.
Lord Diavolo approaches you, hoping to soothe your sadness and fear, and suddenly you’re being encircled by his large arms as he pulls you against his chest. “Please. It’ll be alright.”
Instead of shrinking away from the Prince’s gesture of affection, you find yourself sinking into his embrace as the sobs come, burying your face in his neck. Lord Diavolo is quiet and warm, and his presence comforts you as you find relief from your tension through your tears. He holds you close, a hand on the back of your head as you let out the sadness that’s been building all week.
The two of you stand like that, in the middle of the RAD garden, until your sobs subside, and you’re resting tiredly in Lord Diavolo’s arms. “Tell me what I can do for you.” The demon says, patting your hair comfortingly as your tears begin to let up. You pull back just enough for him to see your teary face. He’s a hands-width away, his golden eyes surprisingly warm with concern. Confronted with his honest empathy, you find yourself overcome again, and a sob rips through your throat.
“Shh,” Lord Diavolo’s arms leave your back, and he takes your head in both hands, pressing his palms to your cheeks. His face is indistinct through your tears, but you can still make out his kind expression, and you find yourself leaning towards him, welcoming his comforting touches.
“Please,” Lord Diavolo says, close enough for you to feel the force of his breath behind his words. “Tell me how to help you.” His thumbs wipe your tears with gentle, warm strokes.
An unexpected ache fills your chest at the thought of leaving this kind Lord of the Devildom. Before you quite realize what you’re doing, you’re leaning forward to give him a soft, salty, open-mouthed kiss. Lord Diavolo receives it graciously, gently accepting the warmth of your lips as you express your feelings in the depth of your kiss. When you pull away, his hands still hold your face, and he’s staring at you, eyes wide, lips parted.
“I-I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to-“ A halting apology stutters from your lips as you realize what you've done, but Lord Diavolo cuts you off.
“You’re perfectly fine.” Lord Diavolo says seriously, pulling himself together and releasing your face. “Please don’t let it distress you.” He musters a playful smile. “I rather enjoyed it, if I’m being honest.”
You blush, your chagrin growing as you regain yourself in his presence, relieved he seems to view your slip as a moment of emotional overload. Had you seriously just sobbed on Lord Diavolo’s shoulder? And then kissed him? Lucifer would be appalled. You can hear the Avatar of Pride already – You did what?! It is completely inappropriate for Diavolo to be seen being engaged in PDA with one of the exchange students. Please tell me you at least had the decency to do so out of the sight of prying eyes. Self-consciously, you glance around at the still-empty garden, when your eyes land on Lord Diavolo’s red uniform.
“I’m so sorry, my Lord, I’ve ruined your jacket.” You say, referring to the damp evidence of your indiscretion on his shoulder. Your embarrassment soars to new heights.
“Think nothing of it.” Lord Diavolo says with a dismissive gesture.
You nod, taking a step back to put some distance between yourself and the Prince. If he thinks nothing of it, then neither should you. “Well, I should be heading home.”
“I’ll escort you.” Lord Diavolo offers without hesitation.
“Oh, that isn’t necessary. It’s way out of your way!” You insist, a bit anxious at the idea of continuing your walk together all the way back to the House of Lamentation.
“You can’t walk alone at night.” Lord Diavolo replies, and you know he’s right.
You shrug your compliance, and the two of you set off in the direction of the House of Lamentation in silence.
Lord Diavolo regards you from the corner of his eye as your steps crunch on the path. Home, you’d said. It warms his heart to know you’ve come to think of any part of the Devildom as the place you belong. It was more than he’d planned for, but not more than he’d hoped. He twiddles his thumbs behind his back, where one hand clasps the other, deep in thought. If he asks you now, Lord Diavolo wonders, will he be taking advantage of your vulnerability? Still, you only have seven days left – and he may not get another chance without the awkwardness of requesting you to see him formally. No, it’s better like this, here, just the two of you walking in the gathering evening shadows.
“There’s something I wanted to talk with you about.” Lord Diavolo says as you continue walking together, his voice drawing your attention away from the glowing insects that dance along the path. You turn to look at him expectantly.
Lord Diavolo clears his throat. “MC, will you consider making a pact with me?”
***
You find Satan in the library, as expected, holed up with some old volume or other and a glass of something stronger than tea. Out of all the brothers, you’ve decided to ask the Avatar of Wrath about Lord Diavolo’s request. Lucifer would most likely just insist that you must make a pact with Lord Diavolo if he asks it, and the others – well, they aren’t known for always thinking things through, or keeping things to themselves. And so, you visit the library’s resident demon immediately upon returning to the House of Lamentation to seek his advice.
Satan hears you enter the library and sets his book down, turning to you. “Good evening.”
“I can wait – you don’t have to stop reading.” You assure him, but the demon’s already closing his book, sliding in your bookmark to hold his spot securely. The gesture both warms and hurts your heart.
“It’s fine. I’m just finishing up for the night, anyway.” Satan says. You seem a more tired than usual. You also hadn’t walked home with Mammon, and you’d missed dinner. These facts combined tell him that you’re looking for an ear to bend. Honestly, he’s pleased knowing he’s the one you’ve come to for a talk. Not that there’s much competition from his brothers when it comes to offering knowledgeable advice.
You take a seat on the footstool next to Satan’s chair, and the demon hands you his beverage, sensing you could use a little fortitude. You take a quick swig of the Demonus and suck the air through your teeth as the liquid hits the back of your throat.
“Thanks.” You say simply, handing his glass back to Satan.
He watches you with interest. “What’s on your mind?”
You stare into the pattern of the rug beneath you, elbows resting on your knees, replaying the evening’s events in your mind: your cry, the kiss, his question. “Lord Diavolo asked if I would make a pact with him.” You drop your big news without looking up.
“Really?” Satan nearly exclaims, the note of surprise in his voice genuine. He stops himself from adding – are you sure? – but his tone says it all.
“Yes.” You look up at the blonde demon, and he can tell from your expression that it’s true. “He told me to think about it and get back to him.”
“Hmm. I see.” Satan waits thoughtfully for you to continue. So this is what’s been on their mind lately, he thinks, recalling your somewhat awkward behavior during the past week.
“And, I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to know what you think.” You say with a shrug. “I don’t know why, but it just seems like a pact with the Lord of all Devildom is somehow…” Your voice trails off.
“Different?” Satan finishes your thought, crossing one leg over the other in his chair.
You nod.
“It is, MC.” Satan looks at you thoughtfully, his blue-green eyes serious. “Not necessarily in a logistical way – the pact functions the same as it does for any of us – but a pact with the Prince of the realm shouldn’t be made lightly. It’s a great honor, but also a great responsibility. Some demons don’t care for the idea of a human having power over their lord.”
“Oh?” You ask, your curiosity piqued.
“It used to be more commonplace, but due to changes in popular opinion, Lord Diavolo hasn’t made a pact with a human in centuries.” And yet, he’s asked you, Satan reflects with a small amount of worry, finding himself feeling a bit protective. He squashes the feeling down; overprotectiveness is Lucifer’s trait, not his.
“What do you think I should do?” You ask, angling yourself towards Satan, who sits in the chair watching you closely.
“You should make an informed decision. On your own.” Satan says, standing and reaching out a hand to pull you to your feet.
You follow Satan over to one of the many floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that form the walls of the library, waiting patiently while he runs a finger across the spines of the volumes until he finds the text he’s looking for. Pulling it off the shelf, Satan gives it a quick dust with his palm and hands you a thin, gold-leafed book. “Take this. It’s a historical account of witchcraft and pact-making in certain parts of the human realm.” He explains.
You run your fingers over the gold title: Summoning the Prince of the Air. Curious, you flip open to the table of contents, running your eyes over the page. Suddenly, your breath catches in your throat as your eyes land on one particular subheading.
“Um, is—is this book… accurate?” You inquire in a high voice, feeling your cheeks heat.
“For the most part. Why?” Satan says, coming to lean over your shoulder to see what’s gotten you so worked up. He follows your pointing finger to the chapter titled The Pact-Forming Ceremony and then to the subsection labeled Sexual Consummation. The subheading stares at you both from the page in dark, ominous ink.
“Oh.” Satan says simply over your shoulder. “Yes. Traditionally, forming a contract with the Prince requires intercourse.”
Your heart pounds nervously. Lord Diavolo hadn’t mentioned anything like this, but maybe he’d assumed you already knew about the practice. Or maybe that’s why he’d wanted you to think about it? Or maybe he took your kiss to mean something more than just a kiss? You clear your throat. “Do you, um, think Lord Diavolo would expect me to…?”
“I don’t know.” Satan says thoughtfully, taking a step back. His uncertainty does nothing to reassure you.
“In the event that he does, you’ll need to decide what a pact with the next king of the Devildom is worth to you.” Satan says bluntly, without judgement. “And you’ll need to be prepared.”
“Er, prepared?” You ask, looking up at Satan with a furrowed brow, still thrown by his comment on what a pact might be worth.
“It’s discussed in the book, but witches would prepare themselves with spells and potions that would make consummating a pact with Lord Diavolo more… comfortable.” Satan says, a light dusting of pink coloring his cheeks. “He’s not just any demon, MC. He’s very powerful, and being exposed to that power can be overwhelming, even dangerous.”
“You mean, like, he could hurt me?” You ask, trying to imagine good-natured Diavolo losing his cool. You’ve seen him angry before, but he always seems so genuinely pleasant with you.
“Not intentionally.” Satan replies, taking the text from you and thumbing through the books’ pages. “Here.” Satan stops on a page with what looks like a woodcut print and holds the book open for you to see. “This is a depiction of a ritualistic pact-consummation. It’s a bit overdramatic, but you get the idea.”
The illustration shows naked men and women in what can only be described as compromising positions, their bodies writhing in either agony or pleasure; the faces are difficult to make out. In the middle of the group stands a larger-than-life demon with recognizable curving horns and large, gold-tipped wings. A circle of witches fawns over him, looking as if they’re in a trance.
“This… is him?” You ask, a small ball of dread solidifying in your stomach.
Satan glances up at you to catch your reaction, the blush on his cheeks deepening as he sees your eyes widen. He’s never considered the consummation rites to be unseemly before – not until he’s considered you partaking in them. “Like I said, it’s not entirely accurate. And relationships between the realms were different at that time.” He explains, clearing his throat.
“It says here this was only five hundred years ago.” You reply uncertainly. “Isn’t that pretty recent in… demon years?”
“It’s long enough for traditions to change.” Satan replies, closing the book and handing it back to you. You take it with some trepidation, still feeling the flush in your cheeks.
“Listen, you should decide what to do on your own.” Satan advises you. “But if you don’t mind, I’ll prepare an elixir that will make the act more bearable, just in case. You don’t have to tell me if you use it, but I’d like you to have it.” He says, making a mental list of ingredients he’ll need. He pulls out his D.D.D. to text Solomon to see what the sorcerer has on hand. “I wouldn't want anything to happen to you because you weren’t properly prepared.” Satan adds as he types.
“Satan, you’re scaring me.” You admit, feeling the pit in your stomach deepen.
Satan looks up at you and smiles, chuckling. “Don’t be so worried. Honestly, I’m being overly cautious. My best guess is that Lord Diavolo won’t ask you to consummate the pact. He hasn’t made a pact with a human in centuries. It’s an honor. You should take it as a compliment.”
You do, you think, take it as a compliment. But what if it’s something more? Or, what if you want it to be? You sigh deeply, eyes falling on the almost empty glass of Demonus on the side table. “Do you mind?” You ask Satan, pointing to the beverage.
“Not at all.”