Chapter Text
It starts with a ball. Formal. The first to be held in the last one hundred years.
The Hazbin Hotel is reaching its one year anniversary, it’s a large milestone for the Sinners of Hell. More and more join the road to redemption, more and more Sinners begin to fill the Pride Ring with a hope that Lucifer once believed impossible.
He doesn’t think it’s impossible anymore.
Charlie promises to use the hotel for the party. Her eyes glance down at Lucifer’s hand, silently acknowledging the absence of the ring he wore for thousands of years. She’d still been a teenager when the last ball had been held in the Royal Palace. She’d seen the way her parent’s marriage had deteriorated. She knew that the Palace was one place that Lucifer wouldn’t open to anyone ever again.
Lucifer feels guilt wash over him at the thought. She knew, and Charlie didn’t pressure him to open the doors to his past. Lucifer doesn’t deserve her, he knows this to be so , so true. She’s too good for Hell, and he wants to give her everything to make up for her place down here with him. So, he says yes. He offers to build a ballroom in the hotel, but the Princess shakes her head.
“Can we use the library? You and Al still have the tables moved to the corners, and it’s more than big enough for our guests! Please, dad — one night?”
“If ya build her a ballroom, she’s just gonna throw more parties, Short King.” Angel helpfully adds from the bar.
“Don’t go givin’ her ideas, Angie.” Cherri says beside him.
Charlie perks up at the idea, and Lucifer cheerfully answers to sway her attention.
“Sure, honey. One night won’t hurt anything.”
It does the trick, and his daughter excitedly runs off to grab a whiteboard. Rolling his eyes with a wide grin, Lucifer listens to her ideas for this party.
Yeah, one night won’t hurt anything.
* * *
“You want to invite the Overlords?”
Lucifer hadn’t liked that idea a week ago when first brought up. He still doesn’t exactly like it now, but Alastor had brought up a good point when Charlie tried to fight her case.
“It is to Charlie’s benefit that the Overlords agree to let their contracted souls stay here.”
The Radio Demon had, of course, happily offered to force them himself; only to be denied the opportunity by the eternally kind woman that is Charlie Morningstar. She wanted this to go correctly, to be done right from the start — to be seen not as the daughter of the Devil, but as the young entrepreneur that ran the Hazbin Hotel.
This might be Hell, but nepotism would only take her so far.
Which is exactly why Lucifer now sits outside of an Overlord meeting a week before the party. Charlie had asked for his help, and he wasn’t going to let her down. Even if it meant sucking up his pride and asking the Sinners for their cooperation. Even if it meant letting them directly into his home.
“I don’t think the Vees should be invited.”
Even if it meant letting those three through the doors.
He believes in Charlie, believes in her dream. Lucifer doesn’t trust the Vees, or many of the other Overlords, but he also doesn’t believe that any of them would be stupid enough to try something in the residence of the King and the Radio Demon. So, with a deep sigh, Lucifer rolls his shoulders as he listens to the muted conversation taking place behind a set of double doors. His head falls back against the wall, the dull thunk reverberating through his entire body, and Lucifer waits — listens to the hum of the radio in the hallway, listens to the cunning edge of the static that surrounds the building they’re in.
Lucifer hadn’t fought with either hotel owner about Alastor speaking to the Overlords first. As one of the most powerful Sinners in the Pride Ring, the Radio Demon had more leverage in this meeting than if the King of Hell came in demanding they attend. And Alastor sure did live up to his title — able to command the attention of everyone listening to him speak. Practiced, easy, second nature. In ways, it reminded the angel of Lilith’s own ability to inspire and lead through song. In ways, it was a tried and true tactic.
The thrum of static scratches, the lights in the hallway flickering briefly.
In others, it wasn't always enough. This, Lucifer knows all too well. Sometimes talking isn’t enough to make others listen. Sometimes it’s only the downfall to whatever you’re trying to accomplish.
Lucifer has been alive long enough to see the ways in which talking can fail in both Heaven and Hell. For such supposed opposites, the two realms of afterlife sure did share a few similarities. Mirrored worlds, as Belphegor had put it once millenia prior — Hell was just a look into what Heaven could easily become. An embodiment of a phrase that has been around as long as Sinners have.
As above, so below.
A sudden, sharp cackle fills the air, only slightly breaking Lucifer from his thoughts. Statics wells and hits a fever pitch, barely enough to overtake the crackles of electricity from the meeting room. When the lights in the hallway flicker off and don't come back on, Lucifer shakes his head.
He'd almost never been able to get a meeting with Heaven unless he near demanded it. Unless he became the Devil his brothers all believed him to be. If it were the same for Heaven as it is in Hell, then maybe it's time to bring that same energy here. With a deep sigh of resignation, the King of Hell stands from his seat. A single snap summons Lucifer's hat and cane, he draws in a deep breath. Grinning wickedly to himself, Lucifer snaps once more and disappears in a cloud of red and gold magic.
*
The lights within the meeting room flicker in and out as it's overwhelmed with power. The pressure in the room intensifies, and dark shadows climb along the walls as the tension thickens. Overlords shout, voices raising in any attempt to be heard over each other. One light suddenly pops in a corner, followed by two, then three, until every light not directly above the table is blown out.
All eyes turn to look at Alastor when the lights to out. Raising an unimpressed brow, the deer gestures his cane at Vox in blame. His grin widens sinisterly when an invisible voice suddenly speaks into the room.
“I heard laughing — I guess I’m late to the party.”
The room falls into silence as the Overlords look around them for where it had come from. A snap echoes through the room, an aftershock of power radiating from the head of the table. The lights above them flicker again before cutting out completely, only to come back as if never tampered with at all.
A deep chuckle rumbles in the back corner of the room, a figure cloaked in the still raised shadows stands between Zestial and Alastor. Stepping forward, the King of Hell makes his appearance known. Grin predatory, his red eyes watching the Overlords with a wickedness that make all the stories of him on Earth just all the more real — a physical reminder of what exactly has deigned sovereignty of this hellish realm. The fallen angel taps his fingers on the table in front of him, impatience and a cruel delight exuding from Lucifer as he watches the Sinners around him.
“Would anyone mind repeating what was so funny?”
In usual, annoying fashion, the Vees are the first to break the tense silence. The doll-like Velvette speaks up first, rising to her full height to point a finger at the King.
“What’s funny is this idea of yours — inviting us to a party. So, what? You think that playing nice with the Overlords will make us give up control of our souls?”
Chatter rises lowly along the table, whispers amongst the Overlords as they begin to rethink their ideas on the ball. Lucifer raises a brow, his grin settling into a thin line, as if daring anyone to say something directly to him.
“Oh, I don’t need to play nice to get you to do what I want.” Lucifer snaps his fingers and teleports behind Velvette’s chair. “This isn’t an invite from your King." Velvette spins around, only to face a wall when Lucifer teleports back to his original place beside Alastor. “This is an invite directly from the Princess — an invitation that I expect all of you to accept. A formal ball hasn’t exactly been the norm for Pride in a long time — think of this as the closest some of you will ever be to the royal throne.”
His grin returns when Vox’s screen glitches with a brief error screen.
Bullseye.
“And then what, your majesty?” Rosie questions on the other side of Alastor. “Much as I don’t like agreeing with Velvette—” she ignores the aforementioned woman’s affronted gasp. “She does have a point. Are you going to ask that we give up some of our souls?”
“All I am asking is that you come to this party and see what my daughter’s hotel is about — give her a chance to make up your mind for you. She's already fought and won against Heaven once, all of you owe her at least this. " Lucifer answers calmly. His eyes stay locked onto the three demons at the other end of the table, watching the Vees talk amongst themselves. Eyes narrowing, the King continues. “Of course , I will be watching who does and does not agree to let some of your souls stay at the Hazbin Hotel. More souls will come, they always do — I have allowed you all to have free reign over the Sinner’s souls for a long time, now I am asking for something in return.”
“And if we say no?” Vox asks.
Leaning over the table, Lucifer’s tail slashes through the air. Pride wells in his gut when even Zestial tenses beside him. The shadows of the room darken again, and he feels the familiar pressure of Alastor’s shadow around his leg. “As Corvette had me point out earlier — I don’t have to ask you for anything. I am your King, my word is final say. I am giving you all the opportunity to make that choice of that free will I gifted you — I suggest you make it wisely.”
Vox stands then, sparks flying from the tips of his fingers as he digs his claws into the table. Before he can voice his opinion, Lucifer slams his own hand down on the table — a judge’s gavel versus an announcer’s buzzer.
“Meeting adjourned — I expect to see all of you this weekend.” Lucifer says with a smile. Without a final word, he snaps his fingers and disappears from the room.
And just like that, the countdown to the party begins.
* * *
As the week passes, letters trickle in from Pride's Overlords. One by one, seven powerful Sinners announce their intentions to come to the party. One by one, until only three are left over. Three days remain until the ball, and they still have yet to hear from the Vees. Valentino. Vox. Velvette. A moth. A TV. A doll.
Overlords that haven’t before garnered the angel’s attention, but now, Lucifer looks at them more closely. He feels it in his chest, a feeling that rushes through his veins and ignites an instinct that Lucifer knows well.
Something is wrong. Off. Not what it should be.
It’s lingered in his peripheral since the meeting, but only now really begins to gnaw at him. It makes Lucifer want to rescind their invitations. He hasn’t brought it up to Charlie, won’t when she pleaded with him in their first discussions of the party. He can’t let her down, even if it means turning on the instinct he feels to turn them away.
“Sire?”
Lucifer tenses where he stands on a balcony of a room in the hotel. Blinking, he breathes in deeply and turns around to face his visitor. It’s Alastor who greets him, both hands resting on his cane as he leans on it. Red eyes narrow in on him, calculating as the deer demon reads through all of Lucifer’s lines.
“Charlie said you were checking over the rooms for any damage, but you seem to be off in your own little world.” Alastor steps closer then, and he taps the top of Lucifer’s shoe with the end of his cane. Catching the king’s eyes, he says. “Are you alright?”
Lucifer shakes his head with a huff. Pulling a smirk onto his face, the angel waves the demon off. He takes one step back, two, three, and his hand rests against the railing behind him — meeting Alastor's gaze when he says. "I'm fine, Al, and I did my check of this room — it's fi—"
The metal crumbles beneath his fingers, the railing falling away from the wall of the building. Eyes widening, Lucifer watches the world tilt momentarily before a hand grips tightly onto his wrist, and the angel is hauled back onto the sturdy flooring of the room. Another hand lands on his other shoulder, steadying the king as Alastor leans in to sarcastically speak near his ear.
"It appears that this room is not fine, sire — you didn't lie to me, did you?"
Lucifer pushes the deer away, rolling his eyes. "I hadn't leaned against the railing yet, Al."
A single eyebrow shoots into red hair, Alastor's smile tugs at the edges into a smug grin. "Oh yes, what was it that you had said, sire — one good push, and you'd go right over the edge? I do believe that you have proven it takes less than that."
A choked laugh forces its way out of the angel — this fucking guy. Lucifer throws his arms up in frustration before pointing accusingly at the deer. "Seems like someone's slacking behind on their work, Al — shouldn't you have noticed there was something wrong?"
The deer's smile widens threateningly, and Alastor snaps his fingers to fix the broken railing. "Forgive me for believing you could be competent to repair this hotel, sire — it won't happen again." Before Lucifer can make another quip, fingers curl around his bicep and lead him out of the room. "Now, my dear, why don't we go check on the other rooms of this hotel — see what other things you may have missed, hmmm?"
*
Of all the remaining rooms in the hotel, only ten have items or balconies to be repaired. Of course , one of the rooms is the one right next door to the one that the angel and demon had been in. Lucifer is almost certain that Alastor is never going to let him live any of this down — a deal might not exist, but the hit to his pride sure does.
Lucifer will still say that of almost one hundred rooms, only ten is not that bad. Compared to the rest of the work he'd done on the building, it's so minimal — no one else had fallen over the railings before now. And now , they wouldn't have to.
Big pats on the back for the King of Hell.
By the time that the red sky fades into the purple hue of nightfall, the two men find their way to the library. Alastor plays music from a radio in the room — a soothing melody of piano chords and scattered arpeggios. The demon lurks at the edges of the room, looking over the many books that take up the large space.
Lucifer can't recall the last time that either of them had actually looked through the vast collection the angel had amassed over millennia. Maybe Alastor comes in when he isn't here — not that the other man has to only be here when Lucifer is, he can do whatever, can go wherever, whenever he wants. Losing himself to his thoughts again, Lucifer misses the change of music tempo. He's only drawn from his reverie when a book slams onto the table in front of him. The angel jumps, and he almost falls back in his chair when a hand lands on the back of it to steady him. A quiet chuckle sounds beside him, and once again, Alastor's voice speaks quietly next to his ear.
"My, my — what has our dear King in such a state? Quite a pathetic display for someone of your caliber, wouldn't you say, sire?"
Lucifer looks up at the demon with a glare. His eyes flicker to red, but the concern that swims in the demon’s gaze deflates the anger inside of him. A sigh erupts past his lips, stealing away all pretense of being okay. Slumping in his seat, Lucifer looks away from Alastor, instead focusing on the gramophone that sits across the room. A year ago, he would have flat out declined any help from the Radio Demon…
Now, though — now, Lucifer finds himself feeling safe in his presence. Alastor challenges him, pushes him beyond limits the angel didn’t know he had. As much as Lucifer finds the deer exceedingly irritating, he also finds the advice and company he provides to be sound. He can come to Alastor with a concern, with a worry of what’s happening in Pride —in any ring of Hell— and the demon would do his best to help the King find a solution. Bickering and short jokes always abound, Lucifer still finds that he leaves every meeting with the demon lighter than when he entered one. So, with a deep breath, and still not looking at Alastor, he says. “Charlie sent out her invitations two weeks ago — all have been responded to except for three.”
Alastor pulls away from behind him and moves to stand next to the table, and the hand that lands next to Lucifer’s own makes the angel meet the demon’s eyes. Attention captured, Alastor speaks. “Three, you say?” His smile widens, pulling taut at the edges. The library darkens at the edges, shadows clinging and climbing up the many books that cover the room. “Let me guess… that bratty doll and her cohorts?”
Lucifer nods. “Yeah. Velvette was the loudest about not wanting to attend the party. You know Vox and Valentino share that same sentiment, even if they weren’t as loud about it. She laughed at Charlie’s idea, Alastor — and now, they still haven’t accepted or declined her invitation.” Groaning, he leans over his knees to rake his hands through his hair. “I have a bad feeling about this, Al.”
The hand on the armrest tightens slightly as Alastor mulls over the angel’s words. His static buzzes in the air around them, overwhelming the music that once played. After a moment, the demon asks. “You believe they will try something?”
Hesitantly, Lucifer looks up at Alastor. “I do. I know that we’ll both be there, and that if they do anything, they can be handled — but I don’t want Charlie to have to worry about this. She needs this night to work for her, Al… But the Vees’ silence has me concerned.”
“What do you plan on doing?”
“Part of me wants to rescind their invitations.” Lucifer says without hesitation. “Charlie wouldn't like that though. They definitely wouldn’t agree to give us some of their souls if I did — not that it probably would have changed their minds anyway.” He sighs, letting his eyes drift downward. “But if I do that, what message is that sending? Will any of the demons take her seriously if I interfere when someone goes against her?”
Alastor hums. “They would certainly take you more seriously, your majesty.”
Lucifer’s eyes snap back up to the deer. “What? That doesn’t exactly help Charlie, Al.”
“Doesn’t it, though? Think, Lucifer — if Sinners and Hellborn take you more seriously and know that there will be repercussions for disrespecting your daughter, they will be less likely to disrespect her in the future. I may have been away for seven years, but you haven’t been seen by your people in almost one hundred, sire.” Alastor watches him, reading every facial expression on the angel’s face as he speaks — reading between every line that Lucifer writes in his expressions. “You did well in the Overlord meeting — all of the others have accepted Charlotte’s invitations, because of your intervention. While I could have gotten a few of the Overlords to agree to come, it was your scene that sealed it for all of them.”
Frown tugging at his lips, Lucifer swallows before saying. “They may show up unannounced.”
Alastor shrugs. “They may have shown up unannounced anyway.”
After a pause, Lucifer finally nods — more to himself than to Alastor, but the demon lets it go unnoticed. “Okay. If they don’t reply tonight, I will talk to Charlie about it. Thanks, Al.”
The deer waves him off and removes his hand from the armrest, leaning backwards against the table. Just as he moves to speak, a knock breaks the comfortable silence. Two sets of eyes dart toward the door where Charlie stands in the entrance. She has a wide grin on her face, holding three letters in her hands, and stamping her feet excitedly. Lucifer feels his stomach drop, but he pulls on a hopefully not too fake grin when his daughter squeals.
“We got the last three responses, dad! All of the Overlords will be at the party! Isn’t that great?”
Lucifer swallows and nods. He attempts to hide the shake in his voice when he says. “Yeah, that’s great, honey.” He tenses and closes his eyes when Charlie runs forward and sweeps him into a hug. Lucifer wraps his arms around her as she speaks into his hair.
“Thank you. I know you didn’t want to do this, dad, but I do really appreciate it.” She pulls away and smiles at him. “I’m so excited! This is going to go great!”
And with that, Charlie Morningstar rushes back towards the door leading into the hallway. As her fingers brush the doorframe, she turns back to look at her father. “Hey, dad?” At his hum, she continues. “Will you keep an eye on the Vees? I don’t want Valentino causing trouble for Angel while he’s here — this is supposed to be a fun time for everyone, you know?”
A small smile tugging on his lips, Lucifer nods. “Yeah, Char, I will.”
As soon as she’s down the hallway and out of earshot, Lucifer groans and drops his forehead onto the table. Alastor chuckles above him, one of his hands coming up to card through blonde hair.
“At least we know that they won’t show up unannounced.”
“Yeah, that’s just great, Al.” Lucifer grumbles.
The hand in his hair pulls away to tap against his cheek. Making a disgruntled noise, Lucifer sits up to quirk a brow at the other man. Before he can speak, Alastor beats him to it.
“Charlie seems to be aware of Valentino’s bad traits — I believe should any of them try anything, Charlotte will be understanding of our need to handle it.”
Our? “Charlie just asked—”
Alastor rolls his eyes and flicks the angel in the forehead. “I know, sire, I heard the conversation — I will keep an eye out for any misdeeds as well. You said it before — we will both be here. There is no need for it to just be you watching them on your own when I will be there.”
Another smile tugs at Lucifer’s lips, soft and small. He nods. “Okay. If the Vees try anything, we kick them out.”
Red eyes flicker to black, radio dials forming where his irises usually are. Alastor smiles wide and nods. “Whatever you wish, my King."