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Alastor had known that he would not spend the afterlife in heaven. For this reason, he had already made arrangements during his lifetime to ensure he could lead a comfortable life in hell. He was certain that the Devil himself would be interested in his soul, and he was to be proven right. After numerous incantations, he made contact with Hell. Although not exactly as he had expected, with the ruler of Hell himself, but a powerful demoness had taken interest in him. The deal was sealed, and he could now relax and prepare for his afterlife.
But he should have listened to his dear mother. Nothing good ever comes of getting involved with the devil.
He found himself in hell sooner than he would have liked. But the demoness, Rosie, kept her word, and thanks to her power, he was able to have a wonderful time in hell. In no time, he had made a name for himself. Just a quick glance from him was enough to strike fear into the hearts of other sinners, who would flee screaming whenever he flashed them a smile. He was part of the grand power system of Hell, but that didn't really interest him. He wanted to have fun, and he knew exactly how to entertain himself.
Alastor had everything he had ever wanted during his time in hell: power, respect, and recognition. Yet he lacked freedom. Powerless to do anything about it, he was on Rosie’s leash and had to obey her every command. But that was now over. He was free, freed from his chains, and now he could finally pursue his own plans. His new target was already right in front of him, and he was already itching to take down his prey.
Lucifer Morningstar.
It would have been easier for him if he’d gotten along with the tiny king from the start. But Alastor wasn’t going to dwell on this belated realization. Oh well, it would just make the hunt even more fun. While Lucifer continued to believe that he was competing with Alastor for his daughter's affection, Alastor actually already had a far better plan than simply serving as a father figure to a naive princess. He was able to continue playing without Lucifer even realizing that he’d been fighting a losing battle from the start, and since Alastor knew that Lucifer couldn’t harm him, he no longer had to hold back or rely on Charlie’s protection.
He would certainly refrain from using brute force, but it was still reassuring to know that, aside from a rubber duck thrown at his head, the miniature monarch posed no real threat. Although those damn ducks could really hurt.
Despite his handicap, which was now known throughout all of Hell, Lucifer seemed completely oblivious to the piercing stares the other inhabitants of Hell were casting his way. He didn't seem to realize the massive target for revenge on his back.
With a smile, Alastor looked at the golden sign hanging next to the door to Lucifer’s room. “No Alastors Allowed”
Amused, he shook his head and grinned widely. As if a little sign like that would stop me. He dissolved into his shadow and appeared in Lucifer’s room in an instant. It wasn't the first time he'd been there, hence the sign. Yet the sheer number of rubber ducks was overwhelming every single time. How can one little person own so many of them?
“Can’t you read, Bambi?” Lucifer said, annoyed. He didn’t even bother to get out of bed. “Of course I can,” Alastor said, smiling at him. “I’m here on behalf of our dear Charlie.” At the mention of Charlie, Lucifer lifted his head and looked directly at him.
Alastor looked around and crossed his arms behind his back. “But as I can see, you’re very busy,” he said, glancing at the mess of threads, bandages, and rubber ducks scattered across Lucifer’s bed, and smirked. “I can come back later,” he said, turning around and taking a few slow steps toward the door. Lucifer groaned in annoyance and ran his hand over the fresh bandage on his wrist.
He was in the middle of treating his wounds. They were healing very slowly, and he really wasn't in the mood for that radio clown's antics right now. He had promised Charlie he wouldn't pick another fight with that awful guy, but he didn't make it easy for him. Just seeing that phony, smug smile made him want to throw up. It was clear that the sinner wanted something from him, but two could play that game.
“What were you supposed to tell me?” he asked, getting up from the bed.
“Hm?” Alastor said, craning his neck to look at Lucifer. “Get to the point, Bambi,” Lucifer demanded, folding his arms across his chest.
“So impatient, Sire,” Alastor quipped with a grin, “at least now I know where Charlie picked up that habit. Not exactly proper, don’t you think?”
Lucifer growled, and his flaming horns emerged from his head. It might have looked menacing if Lucifer hadn't been wearing his oversized pink sweater and his striped pants. “Spit it out already,” Lucifer hissed at him, his tail lashing around him.
Oh, isn't he precious, Alastor thought with a grin. “Of course,” he said calmly, glancing around the room again before continuing. “Our dear Charlie would like to host a musical evening for our new guests.” He paused and looked back at Lucifer. “And she’d like you to be there.”
“But of course,” said Lucifer, overjoyed, and made his demonic features disappear. “Anything to make my little girl happy.”
“You’re going to play a duet with me on the piano.”
“WHAT! I’m supposed to perform with you?!”
“Isn’t that lovely?” Alastor chirped cheerfully, grinning at the king’s horrified expression.
“Of course,” said Lucifer, gritting his teeth and forcing a smile. Anything for my Char-Char, he thought to himself. Even if it means having to work with that red jerk.
“I’d say we should start rehearsals right away.” Alastor looked Lucifer up and down. “It would be best if you could change your clothes. Wearing pajamas at this hour really isn’t appropriate anymore.”
Laughing, he dissolved into his shadow, while Lucifer tried to knock him down with a rubber duck.
The rehearsals were more for show than for practice. They were more of an opportunity for them to taunt each other. They were both excellent musicians, even Alastor had to give the other that much credit. He’d already admitted that to himself when they first met.
Even though Lucifer tried to throw him off by simply picking up the tempo, Alastor had no trouble keeping up. And if he was being even a little bit honest, it was very refreshing to play with someone who could actually do the same. “I think it’s time for a break,” Lucifer said after a while, and Alastor had no objections.
The hotel bar was busy as usual, but the other guests quickly scattered when they saw them coming. “Your reputation precedes you,” Alastor said sarcastically. “Yes,” Lucifer replied gracefully, giving him a deliberately friendly smile. “You don’t even have to show them your true colors, and they’re already running for the hills.”
Alastor rolled his eyes and sat down on one of the bar stools. He watched with amusement as Lucifer hoisted himself clumsily onto the chair. “Husker, why don’t you help our little highness? I’m sure you have a high chair, don’t you?”
“Leave me out of this,” Husk grumbled, setting a glass of whiskey down in front of Alastor. He knew what his master drank and hoped he’d leave him alone soon. “What would you like, Your Highness?” he asked Lucifer.
Lucifer thought for a moment. He glanced over at Alastor and then grinned, “I’ll have the same thing Bambi has.”
“Oh,” said Alastor. “Isn’t that a bit much for such a tiny figure?” he teased him.
“Oh, you’d be surprised at how much I can take,” Lucifer said challenging, looking Alastor straight in the eye as he downed his glass in one gulp. “Good thing Angel didn’t hear that,” Husk muttered, refilling the glass.
“How childish to just waste good whiskey,” Alastor said, taking a sip of his drink. “If you can’t hold your liquor, maybe,” Lucifer said calmly, taking a big gulp from his glass. “You know, for someone who’s always acting all big and powerful. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so uptight about alcohol. Afraid of going overboard, Bambi?” he asked, dragging out that awful nickname with unpleasant emphasis. And unfortunately, it didn’t fail to have the desired effect.
“Is that supposed to be a threat?,” Alastor asked, slightly annoyed. “For that to be the case, it would have to be challenging first,” Lucifer laughed smugly and finished his drink. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Your Majesty. Husker, please refill my glass.”
Husk sighed. This was bound to go horribly wrong. Those two were already unbearable when they were sober, so they’d probably be completely unbearable when they were drunk. But he had no choice but to play along if he wanted to keep his sanity.
Okay, he’d been so wrong. The word “Annoying” didn’t even begin to describe what he had to endure. Husk heard stupid remarks all day long and was used to them. He was also no stranger to Alastor’s fondness for old-timey puns, Husk hated them. But the fact that Lucifer was jumping on the bandwagon too and countering with the dumbest dad jokes imaginable was too much. Why couldn’t those two find common ground somewhere else?
With every bottle they drank, things only got worse, and eventually he just couldn't take it anymore and ran away. It wasn't even worth his soul, but the two of them were so caught up in their own world that they didn't even notice their bartender was gone. The drinking competition had faded into the background, making way for something much more important: Who knew the best Dad-joke?
“I have another one,” Lucifer said while giggling, and quickly emptied his glass. “Listen, listen,” he said, trying not to burst out laughing at his own joke before he could tell it. “Why does a duck have feathers?”
With eyes shining with anticipation, he looked at Alastor, who shrugged cheerfully. “I don't know,” he replied, slurring his words slightly.
“To cover up his butt quack!”, Lucifer finished his joke, and Alastor burst into roaring laughter, which Lucifer joined in on as he knocked over his glass, from the bar counter. “Not bad,” he admitted, refilling his spilled glass. “Mine’s better,” Alastor said, still slightly out of breath, and cleared his throat. “Let’s hear it,” Lucifer said excitedly, moving his barstool closer to Alastor. “What did the ocean say to the beach?” Alastor asked, and Lucifer looked at him curiously. “Nothing, it just waved.”
Lucifer burst out laughing and slapped the counter with his hand. “That’s a good one, Bambi,” he managed to say between waves of laughter, and Alastor grinned proudly to himself. He knew he was funny, but he especially liked Lucifer’s reaction.
Still slightly out of breath from laughing, Lucifer rested his head on the counter and closed his eyes. Alastor chuckled, “Is it time for bed already, your royal Shortne-”
Suddenly, everything went dark before his eyes, and even though he’d had quite a bit to drink, more than he’d actually intended to, he was pretty sure that no one had simply turned off the lights in the lobby.
He heard a soft giggle and carefully lifted whatever was blocking his view.
“You look stupid with the hat on,” Lucifer giggled to himself, and Alastor already had a comment on the tip of his tongue, but he remained silent. It wasn’t Lucifer’s white hat that disrupted his rhythm. The oversized hat was the least of his problems right now. It was the sight before him that threw him off his usual balance.
Lucifer’s head was still resting on the bar, and he was still looking at him with a gentle smile. That faint smile and those large, slightly glassy eyes, along with his tousled hair and cheeks flushed golden by alcohol, created an almost ethereal image that Alastor couldn't quite make sense of yet. The same applied to the feelings it stirred within him. His face felt uncomfortably warm, and something in his chest tightened. He looked away.
He mentally blamed it on the alcohol, explaining his racing pulse and his parched throat. In a fit of rage, he yanked the hat off his head and roughly shoved it onto Lucifer’s head, hiding the expression that gave him that fluttering feeling in his chest and made him feel so weird.
Despite Lucifer's whining protests about his rough treatment, Alastor staggered to his feet. Suddenly, he felt the alcohol far too clearly. He'd had enough to drink for today.
“I’m going to sleep,” he mumbled, cursing himself for how pathetic he sounded. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t usually like this. “That means I won,” Lucifer announced cheerfully, grinning at Alastor with glee. “I told you I’d outdrink you,” Lucifer said in a slurred voice. Alastor sighed in annoyance. He hadn’t even thought about their stupid contest anymore. Yet another thing that didn’t suit him. He was always in control, but now it was slipping away from him for the second time. What was wrong with him?
Alaster once again looked away from Lucifer. He wanted nothing more than to go to his room and blame this situation on alcohol or maybe his advancing age, but the little monarch had other plans for him.
“Everything okay, Bambi?” he asked worriedly, touching his hand. “Come on, I’ll take you to your room, just in case something happens.” As soon as he said that, he almost tripped over his own feet. “I think you’re the one who needs help,” Alastor said dryly. He didn’t even notice the familiar tone in his own voice.
Even though Alastor was more than just feeling the effects of the alcohol, as a more seasoned drinker, he seemed to have the edge over Lucifer, who, while he seemed to have a high tolerance, didn’t drink often. They had just made it to the grand staircase when Lucifer collapsed, and Alastor had to carry the peacefully slumbering Lucifer to his room and throw him into the bed. Alastor would have been happy to leave it at that, but his damned shadow had taken a fancy to the snoring king and wouldn’t let him go until he had at least tucked him in.
Once his shadow was satisfied, Alastor let his gaze linger briefly on the sleeping man. Whatever he might be dreaming, it had to be something nice, given how blissfully and contentedly he was smiling. But it was a different smile than the one from earlier. It reminded him of the pictures and figures his mother had shown him of angels, and of those in the church he used to visit with her. He stepped closer to the sleeping figure and tilted his head. He couldn’t remember angels ever having sharp teeth. Angels had something serene about them. They moved with a certain grace that the snoring devil completely lacked.
He licked his lips. Even now, as he lay there, his hair a tangled mess and...
Alastor paused and looked at his outstretched hand.
Did he just intend to brush Lucifer's hair out of his face?
His mind must have been playing tricks on him. He didn't really mean to do that. It had to be the alcohol, undoubtedly. The whole evening went completely contrary to how he had planned it. Before he did anything else he didn't want to do, he vanished into his shadow and left Lucifer alone.
As he lay down in bed, his head was spinning with thoughts he couldn't make sense of. Images from the past few days and the nagging feeling that he was about to lose control of himself and his plan all over again. Simply because of some blond guy who would probably have a terrible hangover tomorrow.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the treacherous grin on his shadow’s face. “Not. A. Word,” he growled at it, prompting the shadow to dissolve with a gurgling sound. If he didn’t know better, Alastor would have thought it had been laughing at him.
The night had been surprisingly short, filled with contemplation and recurring images that disturbed his peace of mind. Nevertheless, Alastor got up and got ready for the day.
But he wasn't in the mood for the hustle and bustle on the ground floor before his first cup of coffee, so he preferred to watch the goings-on from a safe distance. He leaned comfortably against the railing and let his gaze wander unconsciously through the lobby. It didn't take long before he found what he was looking for.
“Tz,” he said, leaning forward. “You’d think he was doing it on purpose.” Once again, Lucifer didn’t seem to have thought it necessary to get properly dressed. He stood out like a sore thumb in his pink bathrobe, those ridiculous duck shoes, and his nightcap. He looked very tired as he clutched his cup and stood leaning against the bar. Still, he seemed to have found the time to put in his curlers. Alastor stretched his back. Time to keep working on his plan.
He was strolling leisurely down the stairs when he noticed a group of sinners he had never seen before. He recognized newcomers immediately by that undeserved self-confidence, as if they knew what awaited them in Hell. It was quite amusing to see how quickly they were brought back down to earth, usually ending up with a one-sided contract with an Overlord. The group of four whispered among themselves and looked around curiously. Alastor followed their gaze and realized that the group was heading toward Lucifer. His smile faltered slightly, and his ear twitched.
Something about this didn't sit right with him. He followed the group keeping a fair distance from them.
“Hey, you’re the Devil, aren’t you?” one of the sinners said loudly, and Lucifer looked up in surprise.
He hadn’t even noticed the group that had gathered around him. He wasn’t really in the mood for a conversation, but he wanted to be a more involved king, so he wouldn’t damage Charlie’s reputation.
His head was still throbbing, but he put on a welcoming smile. “Good morning and welcome to the Hazbin Hotel,” he said, setting the cup down on the bar counter. “Have you met my lovely daugh—”
“Is it really true that you were once in heaven?” one of the group interrupted him.
“Um, yeah, I—”
“Which hurt more, falling from heaven or the machine?” asked another, and got a headbutt from the guy standing next to him.
“Are you stupid? You can’t compare the two,” he said, laughing spitefully. “The fall must have been way worse. That’s obvious.”
“Yeah, hehe,” said Lucifer, laughing half-heartedly. “So, back to the hotel. The check-in is back there and—”
“Yeah, yeah, in a minute,” the tallest man in the group waved him off and stood in front of him. “Is it true that you can’t do anything to us?”
“Huh?”
“What does it take to run this place?” the tall sinner asked bluntly.
Lucifer was confused. “The hotel belongs to my daughter.”
“Not the hotel, I mean something bigger,” said the tall one, and the others in the group laughed. “I want your job.”
“My job?” Lucifer pointed at himself, perplexed. “I just assist Charlie and—”
The great sinner roughly grabbed Lucifers arm and pulled him toward him. “I want to become the king of hell,” said the sinner with a wicked smile, “I think I’m perfectly qualified for the job.” He stepped even closer to Lucifer and loomed over him.
Only then did Lucifer realize that his back was against the wall and that the group had completely trapped him.
Lucifer let out a nervous laugh and looked up at the faces of the group. “Haha, that’s really funny, guys.” He didn’t like the direction the conversation was going at all. But he didn’t want to let on, didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself. Even though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he’d been afraid something like this would happen ever since his secret was no longer a secret.
“I think so too,” said the big sinner with a grin, digging his nails firmly into the pale skin. “After all, unlike you, I can hurt you.” Lucifer gasped sharply as blood trickled down his arm in a thin stream. The sinner laughed darkly, and his companions giggled.
“So be a good little devil and give me the throne before I have to really hurt y—”
With tremendous force, he was hurled to the side, dragging two of his friends with him, before crashing loudly against the wall and leaving a deep crater in his wake. It happened so fast that Lucifer could barely react and now stared at Alastor with wide eyes.
He stood there, breathing heavily, the fist with which he had hurled the big sinner away still raised. His antlers were fully spread, his smile stretched to the point of tearing, and his teeth bared. The other sinner’s blood dripped from his fist, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to wipe it away.
Alastor’s thoughts were racing, his pulse was pounding, his heart was hammering in his chest, and there was a ringing in his ears. He had simply acted without thinking. He hadn’t been able to stop himself. He knew he wouldn’t find peace until he could crush the other man’s face with his fist. He couldn’t hold back any longer when the sinner reached for Lucifer’s hand and he saw the look in his eyes, that forced smile that hid his fear. It reminded him of times past when he could do nothing but watch helplessly. But this was different. Lucifer meant nothing to him!
So why had he been able to hear nothing else in his head but “Don’t touch him,” and why did he want to see this sinner’s head on a platter?
“Alastor?”
He turned around and looked straight into Lucifer’s face, who was simply staring at him. But something in that stare made his inner emotions run even wilder. Lucifer’s gaze reflected a sea of emotions: disbelief, confusion, relief, gratitude, and something Alastor couldn’t put into words. He was about to ask him something, and Alastor didn’t know how to answer him. He hissed at Lucifer like a cat and vanished into his shadow, only to reappear in his room. He breathed in and out rapidly. He ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at it to calm himself down. It took what felt like an eternity before he felt like himself again. But that feeling quickly gave way to shame.
What was he thinking?
He felt his face flush as he recalled what had happened just a few hours ago, and his heart began to race again.
Why did he have such a hard time controlling himself?
The situation was perfect for carrying out his plan, and he had let it slip away. Lucifer was defenseless and under threat. All he would have had to do was watch as those idiots cornered Lucifer even further. Not much would have happen, since Lucifer is tough. Even though he couldn’t harm the sinners, he was still the strongest being in Hell, with no weaknesses. Except for the heavenly steel that this disgusting guy had apparently glued to his fingernails.
Alastor shook his head and reached for his lighter. He quickly found the pack of cigarettes on his dresser, and as soon as the smoke filled his lungs, he felt he could think clearly again. He looked at himself in the mirror, and he didn’t like what he saw staring back at him. He barely recognized himself.
His plan had been to propose a deal to Lucifer: to become his executioner, his sword. From that position, things would move forward. But instead, he had simply protected him, just like that—without asking for anything in return, voluntarily, without hesitation. He ran his hand over his face.
Why was this devil making him so soft?
A gentle knock made him turn around. Someone had knocked, and he knew exactly who it might be. But he didn’t want to open the door for that person. Yet his wishes were ignored once again when, a moment later, he heard soft footsteps approaching him. Frustrated, he blew the smoke out of his mouth and stubbed out the cigarette.
Whoever it was seemed to have a death wish. Fine by him, he could use it to blow off some steam.
“Hey”
Without even turning around, he recognized the melodic voice behind him. “What do you want?” he asked gruffly, looking into the mirror in front of him.
“We were supposed to rehearse for Charlie’s concert,” said Lucifer, raising the violin he was holding. Alastor could easily make out a bandage on Lucifer’s wrist. And once again, he felt that burning rage from earlier.
“Don't you have anything better to do? Watch TV or... I don't know.” Usually, the king would just play with his ducks or fiddle with his cell phone. Why couldn't he do that today, too?
“Nah,” Lucifer admitted, “I think I’d rather rehearse with you,” he said, glancing at his violin. “Besides,” he gave Alastor a crooked smile, “watching TV scrambled your brain, you know.”
How Alastor hated himself for that smile it brought to his face.
They rehearsed for a while, but Alastor wasn't focused. He made more mistakes than he played correctly. But Lucifer said nothing, didn't tease him, but simply started over from the beginning as if nothing had happened. Alastor didn't want to talk about what had come over him, but this was pointless.
Lucifer played the violin so beautifully that Alastor’s off-key notes bordered on a crime against art. Today, he wouldn’t be able to play a single note in tune, and Lucifer knew that too. So why was he tormenting him with this farce?
The music faded away, the song, though it had sounded off-key and sloppy, was over. A strange silence hung between the two of them, broken only by the rustling of sheet music.
“You know,” said Lucifer, setting his bow aside. “I haven’t thanked you yet for this morning.” Alastor closed his eyes. That was the last thing he wanted to hear right now.
“Don’t get too full of yourself about it,” he said sharply and closed the piano lid. “I’m not,” Lucifer replied calmly, smiling slightly. “I know you’re up to something. But I also know when to say thank you.” He walked over to Alastor, who was still sitting on the piano stool.
Even though he didn’t like to admit it, without Alastor he wouldn’t have known what to do. Teleporting away would have only solved the problem temporarily. They would have come back, and if not them, then someone else. Alastor had saved him, even though Lucifer was certain that he couldn’t stand him.
So why had he done that?
Was there something like a heart in the radio demon after all?
The fallen angel came to a stop in front of Alastor, and for the first time, they looked at each other eye to eye. Lucifer swallowed briefly. He’d never been this close to the other man before. He’d also never noticed how dark the other man’s eyes were. His face felt warm.
He knew he shouldn’t read too much into it, but maybe his opinion of this radio host had changed slightly. Maybe just a tiny, tiny bit, a minuscule bit.
“Thank you for saving me this morning, Alastor, and for yesterday, too. I never would have thought I could have so much fun with you,” Lucifer said with a gentle smile.
And suddenly, Alastor knew. Lucifer wasn't an angel, he really was the Devil himself.
His mother had been right: the Devil would try anything to lead you into temptation. Even if it was just with a sincere, angelic smile.