Work Text:
Lucifer had fallen before. He always fell fast. Whether it was tripping over his own feet, a gust of wind, his robes - he always fell. Despite the large wings he understood that falling was meant to be a rapid thing.
Like his heart when he first saw Lilith. Rapid. Beating against his chest like it wanted to escape. He learnt it was called Love.
Love made him fall too and that too was rapid.
To land was not always painful and even then, the pain was quick and gone in a flash.
Falling to Lucifer had always meant a rapid movement, a brief moment of pain, of something lost (balance, wit, his heart).
So, when it started, he didn’t realize he was falling. It was so slow.
Every question he asked the seraphines was unanswered or hushed. Each time, a new crack appeared in his faith. Because he was questioning Him, and therefore, Faith. But it was only what they thought Faith was, wasn’t it?
‘Why can’t we give humans fire?’
Crack.
‘Why can’t we let them choose how to live?’
Crack.
‘Why so many rules? What if they want to make their own?’
Crack.
‘What if we grant them free will?’
Crack.
‘What defines good and bad? Why are we above them? Do we not breathe and live to achieve good? What is good? What is bad?’
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Snap.
Why?
To question His rules is to Sin. To sin is to be punished. To be punished is to fall. And this kind of falling was a slow descent.
The cracks in his faith manifested in his halo. His halo, glowing gold, held new small cobwebs of black with every question. Every rebuttal, every admonishment made the black go deeper until his eyes turned inside out. It was a mild headache that became a migraine and Lucifer remembered screaming.
The halo snapped. It was beautiful. There was gold dust circling his head, falling into his hair like stars. But he was screaming.
Because it hurt.
His faith was broken, and the seraphines gloated. But it wasn’t gone, no it wasn’t gone.
Lucifer the favoured. Lucifer the most intelligent. Too much for his own good. Why didn’t you just shut up? Who do you think you are?
How dare you question Him?
He was on his knees; halo shattered around him. Lilith holding him to her chest while he screamed. There’s gold trickling down his face, mixing into tears and pain flaring at his forehead. She whispers sweet words to his ears, and he is soothed.
A soft landing. But it gives way soon.
Eve listens to him, and Adam listens to Eve and it was a mistake. He thought he was helping. Free will, doesn’t everyone deserve it? Aren’t they just puppets?
Free will is the root cause of sin they tell him and this time he knows he is falling.
He woke up the day after his halo broke and there were black webbed cracks near his spine, at his wings. They pulsed like they were filled with poison.
In the garden of Eden, he glimpsed his reflection and saw the golden pupil being overtaken by red. It was the colour of a bleeding beast, dark and dead.
When the humans gained free will, Lucifer ground his teeth as horns broke through skin and sent rivulets of divine blood down his face. The newly jagged teeth pierced lips, and at the end Lilith could only wipe away the blood and cradle his face
He remembered screaming I wanted to help. He remembered them cursing him and he remembered falling.
The rapid kind.
Lilith was in his arms, and he remembered thinking.
If love means so much pain. Is it really love? Why is love jagged and sharp, instead of soft? Why is anger easier? Why is hate easier? Is it easier to take than give?
He lands on both feet and Lilith clings to him. It is dark but his eyes glow with rage before it dims. And it stays that way until an infant’s cry pierces hell’s skies, then it’s something softer, honed down, waiting.
“What does it mean?” Lilith asks him, cradling Charlie close to her chest as Heaven rages above.
Lucifer presses a kiss to her forehead and then to Charlie’s, tired of rage. He promises to only love now because that is all he has left. He thinks Lilith’s asking about Charlie’s eyes, why they glow red like his sometimes, why she cries and grabs at her head when she gets angry, why, why, why.
“Why does it need to mean anything? Why can’t it just be?”