Chapter Text
Distractions. That’s all Lucifer knew at this point. Day in and day out, keeping his hands busy, keeping his mind distracted, not giving himself time to think. Every single day, all day. Was it even days at this point? He’d long since closed his curtains, unsure most days of what time it even was. He simply rose when he woke up and slept when his eyelids got heavy. Was he sleeping 8 hours? 12 hours? Days at a time? Was he staying awake for days at a time? None of it really mattered to him anymore.
Lucifer had dismissed his royal staff years ago, allowing his palace to fall into disarray. Most surfaces in the home were covered in a thick layer of dust, old paintings were covered with sheets, to be taken down once he could bring himself to do it, messes were left untouched in most rooms. It’s not like it mattered much to him anyways, he tended spend the majority of his time in his workshop or his bedroom anyways. Being an archangel had its perks, the main one being he didn’t need to eat or drink, so he never visited the kitchen, even. It was for the best, really, every room in this palace was filled with the ghost of… her. Be it a faint memory of her making them breakfast, the sound of her laughter in their living room, the smell of her shampoo on their bedsheets. It had taken him a few months after she left to finally move his things out of their bedroom, unable to stand the constant reminders anymore. He’d ended up setting up in one of their guest rooms, the one closest to his workshop, so he didn’t need to traverse the palace to get there each day.
He was a shell of the man he used to be. Pitiful. Sinners used to kneel at the very sight of him, those who didn’t turn to sprint the other way, at least. His presence used to instill fear in others. Now he doesn’t even recognize himself in the mirror. Greasy hair is clinging to his head, stubble left to grow for too long pricks at his palms as he rubs at his cheeks, the bags under his eyes make it seem like he got sucker punched in both eyes. What had he allowed himself to become?
The much needed shower ended up taking more time than he expected, and became less of a shower and more of him sitting on the tile, letting the hot water hit his lowered head as the silence all but consumed him. Normally, he wouldn’t bother showering but, unfortunately, he was still the king of Hell and his duties didn’t cease just because he was miserable. Today was a meeting with the leaders of the other 7 rings to discuss mundane issues he couldn’t bring himself to care for, but it was a necessity that plagued him once a year.
With a heavy sigh, the king pulls himself out of his wallowing under the hot water and finishes his shower as quickly as he could, now knowing that he was starting to run out of time before this meeting. Thankfully, getting ready after his shower was as easy as a flick of his hand and his hair is dry and slicked back, and he’s dressed in his normal attire for instances such as this. It feels odd on him this time though, the pants hug him too tight, his shirt is too stiff for his liking and creases weirdly as he lifts his arms. He knows nothing has changed with his body or the outfit, he’d simply not been wearing anything this formal in… when was the last time he’d actually dressed himself? Now that he thinks about it, he can’t remember the last time he wore anything except sweats and loose shirts. Fuck, he’d really been letting himself slip.
He can’t think about that now, though, he has an appearance to keep up and he refuses to let the leaders of the other rings see how wrecked he’s been lately. Sparing one last glance in the mirror, he slaps on his signature smile, summons a portal, and steps through it.
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God, Lucifer can’t remember the last time he was this exhausted. The meeting seemed to drone on for hours on end and afterwards everyone seemed to want to catch up with him; begging to know how he’s been, what he’s been up to. The one mercy he was spared in the hours of socializing is that no one brought her up. Lucifer was not unaware of the secrets spreading through the rings, that his wife had left him in favor of making a deal with heaven. It seemed most of the big names in the rings knew at this point, and he couldn’t really bring himself to care, especially if it meant he the other leaders stopped asking about her.
His pillow is soft as he throws himself onto his bed, face first into it. He barely spares another flick of his wrist to get these god forsaken clothes off of him as his eyes close for the night.
His days return to normal after that: wake up, go to his workshop to busy himself until he gets tired, go back to sleep, rinse and repeat day after day, week after week. More dust builds up, more ducks are added to the piles, more light leaves the king of hell. Ironic, isn’t it? The king named after the Morning Star, the angel nicknamed the light bringer, now finding himself sitting at the bottom of a pitch black well with seemingly no way out. At least when he had Fell he had Lilith there with him, she had been the light in the darkness, the outstretched hand into his well that he was able to grab onto. She’d hoisted him out of his depression then, only to shove him right back into it centuries later. What a joke.
He’d found himself so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the sound of radio static surrounding until it was nearly deafening. Lucifer shoves himself out of his seat and spins around, scanning the room for where the sound was coming from. The radio across the room from him had to be the culprit, so he marches over and yanks the cord from the wall, yet it doesn’t do anything. The man is left puzzled for a second before he scans the room again, this time he sees a shifting shadow in the corner of the room and he fixates his narrowed eyes on it.
“If you truly believed it was a good idea to spy on the king of Hell in his own home, you’d think you’d at least have the sense to not give yourself away with this god-awful sound.” The angel announces to the shifting shadows.
“Apologies, your majesty.” A smooth, practiced voice answers. From the ground, the shadows lift up, manifesting the form of a sinner donned in nearly too much red and flaunting a smile that seemed to split his face in half. “I tried the front door but there wasn’t an answer.”
Lucifer’s eyes sweep the form of the sinner in front of him, scrutinizing every detail. He could feel the power coming off the deer in waves but it was young, untrained, yet full of potential. He didn’t quite have the power of the overlords that ruled in this ring, but he certainly wasn’t far behind them. As his eyes trained up to the man’s face, he’s met with a quizzical look, probably because it had been a solid 10 seconds since Lucifer had been answered and he still hadn’t said anything.
With an awkward clear of his throat, he wretches his eyes from the sinner’s face and focuses on the apple situated on the end of his staff. “Yes, well, I dismissed the staff for the day.” He lies. “Care to explain why you’ve seen it fit to let yourself into my home?”
“For the day?” The sinner repeats, very clearly not buying the lie he’d been told. “I do hope you’ll forgive the intrusion, I’m not usually so brazen.” The demon assures as he stalks forward, the clicks of his heels seeming to echo in Lucifer’s workshop. He stops just short of the king and holds his hand out. “Alastor, it’s a pleasure to meet the acquaintance of my king.”
Lucifer eyes the hand in front of him suspiciously, weary that his question has still not been answered. He knew when it comes down to it, no demons in this ring held a candle to the power of the fallen angel, so he knew he wasn’t in any danger, but that didn’t mean he necessarily had the energy to fight a sinner right now. With a huff, he places his hand in the others and gives it a firm shake. “Lucifer. Again, why are you in my home?” he asks again.
“Yes, of course! I come to you with a proposition, an opportunity….” The demon’s eyes darken down at the king, and he’s lightly surrounded in a dark green light. “A deal, if you will.”
Had his eyes turned to… radio dials? Lucifer scrubs a hand across his eyes quickly to make sure he was seeing correctly but when he looks back, he’s met with the same red eyes the sinner had the whole time. Weird. Had he been awake too long again?
“Listen, Alastor was it? Al,” The demon’s eye twitches slightly at the nickname. “You clearly haven’t been in hell long; I can still smell the mortal world on you.” Lucifer starts, leaning back against his desk with crossed arms. “So, I won’t outright kill you for your insolence. But I don’t make deals with demons, I won’t be anyone’s bitch on a leash.”
“Ah, you have it all wrong! I would never think of leashing his majesty, but I do believe we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement for both of us!” Alastor assures with a flippant wave of his hand. “I’m not asking for much, either. I’m even willing to give you a… trial period, if you will. The deal I am offering is this: I will be in your service for one year, in whatever aspect you wish. Anything from taking out threats to...” he swipes a gloved finger across a dusty surface, then rubs his fingers together to purge the filth from the glove. “Being your palace staff. Whatever you need, I will be your right-hand man! All I ask is that at the end of this year, you grant me one favor of my choosing, at the time of my choosing!”
The radio static around him that had died down, seems to skip a few times, as if searching for a station.
Lucifer pauses to mull this over for a second. He had been letting his palace fall into disarray for nearly a decade now, he’d be kidding himself if he said that he didn’t need staff here to help him keep it running. That, and having someone around to do his bidding and run the errands he couldn’t bring himself too was enticing. And not that he’d ever admit such a thing, but the idea of having someone around to help him regulate his days and himself wasn’t the worst idea in the hells. But he knew deals were bad news, hell- he all but invented them. Someone was always on the shit end of the stick and he refused to let that be him.
“What makes you think I even need a right-hand man?” the king asks quizzically, raising one of his eyebrows as he pushes himself off the desk he was leaning on to approach Alastor.
Alastor hums, as if in thought. “There have been whispers, sire.” He purrs the word almost placatingly; it makes Lucifer’s eye twitch in annoyance. “Your subjects have noted your… disappearance, and have begun to take advantage of it. They need to be crushed under the heel of the king before there is anarchy in the streets.” The deer states with a casual shrug.
Lucifer wasn’t unaware of these rumors, or the fact that more chaos had started to flood the streets of his ring since he took a step back, but he simply hadn’t had the energy to do anything about it, or even really think too much about it. As much as he hated to admit it, the sinner was making some good points. He needed someone day to day to keep him regulated and he needed to take back control of the pride ring. But if he was going to make this deal, he had to ensure that he came out on top.
“If, if, I considered this, there would be conditions to this favor. But I’m sure you expected as much.” The king states as he begins to walk again, this time towards the doors of his workshop.
The footsteps behind him assure Alastor is following as Lucifer pries the doors open and walks through them.
“I’m sure together we could come to a very mutually beneficial contract, sire.” Alastor assures.
The pair fall into silence as Lucifer leads the way down his halls, mind racing as he weighed all the options. He didn’t even seem to notice the fact that he was entering a wing of the palace he hadn’t entered in ages. The doors to his office open as he approaches and he flicks a wrist as he enters, clearing the desk in the center of the thick dust that covered everything. Lucifer sits himself down in his chair, then motions to one across from him, which Alastor sinks into gracefully.
“You mentioned a trial period. I will take you up on this offer and you will have a week to prove yourself useful enough for me to keep around. I will write this contract now, you can take the week to look it over and bring up any changes you see fit. At the end of the week, I will decide whether or not I will keep you around, then we will sign if I do.” Lucifer says. In front of him, a glowing, golden parchment appears along with a quill, which starts scribbling words onto the page.
“For one year, you will be an assistant of sorts. Your duties will include upkeep of the palace and any errands I will send you on. You have the right to refuse any tasks you believe you cannot do, but if I believe you are using that to skirt your duties, there will be consequences.” Lucifer notes.
“In payment, at the end of this year, you will have one favor made available to you. You cannot use this favor to put yourself in a station higher than overlords, or request anything that involves bringing harm to myself, my family, or the leaders of any other rings. If I feel your favor can cause any of these things, it will not be granted. If I feel at any point that you are using your position in my palace to attempt to bring harm to myself, the contract will be broken and you will suffer the consequences.”
The quill ceases its movements and disappears as the contract fully materializes in Alastor’s hands. “You have a week to look over that and prove yourself useful to me. You’ll be given your own quarters near my own and have near full free rein of the palace.”
The deer demon’s sickening grin seems to widen as he eyes over the contract quickly, then tucks it into his jacket pocket for more examination later when he’s alone. “It seems as though we have a deal, your majesty. Or will, in a week.”