In Alastor’s professional opinion, no being could ever live in the face of endless silence. All creatures, no matter how small, instinctively made noise to stave off its oppressive weight. Birds sang to welcome the dawn. Insects droned in the evening air. Even the very stars themselves hummed and sang to ward off the stillness of the evening sky. Really, it was as though the universe itself constantly fought to keep the silence at bay - after all, as long as there was sound, there was life.
Silence was for the dead.
Castle Morningstar stood sentinel at the center of the kingdom, a grand and somber monument to a once-vibrant realm. Its many rooms, once teeming with the heartbeat and whispers of life, now lay shrouded in an oppressive, haunting quiet. No longer did the melodies of court musicians and the gentle rustle of gowns grace its halls. No longer did the king’s laughter or the princess’ songs make the gardens come to life. No longer did magic and gossip buzz at every corner.
Now all its inhabitants knew was the still air and the unsettling quiet of desolation. Now all they knew was a kingdom and court in mourning. Now all they knew was the echo of a fading memory and the frigid cold of the tomb itself.
Alastor’s footsteps echoed as he walked down the deserted corridors of the silent castle, the sound the only disturbance in the otherwise still air. Crimson eyes swept over the now empty sights before him, each one an all-too-painful reminder of what had been lost. The once vibrant tapestries that had adorned the walls were dull and lifeless now, their colors faded as if in mourning. The grand chandeliers, which had once sparkled with thousands of candles, now hung dark and cold, their crystals clouded and dusty.
A strange feeling twisted in his chest; the same feeling that had settled there the day it all began - the day the silence fell. It was a constant companion, a reminder of the part he had played in causing all of this. A reminder of how horribly he had failed.
As Alastor continued to walk down the hall, his eyes narrowed at the tiny speck of red standing before the ornate double doors that led to his destination. Clad in a long red gown, Queen Regent Charlotte “Charlie” Morningstar was once again repeating that same ritual she had adopted ever since her sixteenth birthday.
She would first stand before her father’s chambers, biting her lip and staring at the door knob. Then, she would twist her hands in her skirt, her mind warring between opening the door and running away. After a few minutes of skirt-twisting and lip-biting, she would then reach out and touch the doorknob, only to draw her hand back as though burned. Then, her periwinkle gaze would flicker between the ceiling, the door, and her hand. For a few moments, it would seem that she would change her mind and finally enter the room… only for her to pick up her skirts and run away to busy herself with the next council meeting, orphanage opening, or whatever other duty she had to perform that day.
Alastor had long grown accustomed to this routine after so many dream dives. Every single day, he would find her at various points in the ritual - whether it was twisting her skirts or running away. And every single day, he would come to her after yet another failed dive and sit down. Things tended to vary after that. Sometimes they would chat, sometimes they would sit in silence, and sometimes she would wring her hands in her dress and tug her hair as she vented, pouring out every worry, every doubt, every negative thought and feeling all over Alastor’s lap. Those days were always the hardest - Alastor often had to weave a gentle spell over her to get her to fall asleep.
He understood, of course, why she did this to herself: she felt guilty. After all, she had been the one foolish enough to wander off on her sixteenth birthday, following that spark of defiance that had begun to dance within her since she entered her adolescent years. She had been the one to fall under the Dark Faerie’s hypnotic spell. She had been the first to reach her father’s body, screaming as all of the horrid guilt for what she had done came down upon her with crushing force.
It was here in a moment of extremely uncharacteristic impulse that Alastor offered her perhaps the fairest deal he had ever offered in his endless lifetime: he would dive into her father’s dreams and attempt to find his true love, the only person who could possibly wake the king from his slumber. In exchange? The Princess-turned-Queen Regent would allow him to do whatever he wanted to the Dark Faerie, no matter how horrifying or inhumane.
She had agreed immediately while hot tears streaked down her face, clutching her father’s corpse-like form close to her chest. For his part, Alastor had sneered as he sealed the deal, then left to find the Dark Faerie. What had happened next would be one of those tales that would never make it to song. All the kingdom knew was when Alastor emerged from the Dark Faerie’s castle days later, he was licking a strange ink-black substance from his fingertips.
The dream dives began happening next, each one fitted with the same mission: find information on the king’s true love so they could be brought to the castle. Alastor had dove in numerous times, working all night and all day trying to find a hint, a sign, anything that would point him towards the key to the king’s slumber. And each time, he came up empty-handed, his teeth gnashing in frustration as he climbed out of yet another one of the king’s dreams.
He understood why he had failed so many times, of course - dreams were strange, twisted little things. Sometimes they were pleasant and colorful, filled with sugar, spice, and things that most people who were not named Alastor might find nice. Other times, they were horrible and grotesque, filled with things that people who were not named Alastor most certainly found not nice.But one thing remained consistent when it came to dreams: they were often quite informative, but only if the one viewing the dream could tease its highly metaphorical nature apart.
What he didn’t understand was why he had stuck around for so long and why he had agreed to continue diving into the king’s dreams. The deal he had struck with the Queen Regent only said he would attempt to find his king’s true love - he had never promised that he would keep trying until he succeeded. Really, he should’ve just left after that first failure, leaving the Queen Regent and her kingdom to rot under her inexperienced reign.
What did it matter to him if this silly king never woke up again? After all, the throne’s heir now sat upon it, and Alastor had already ensured that the Dark Faerie would never fly again. There was no reason for him to continue dream diving, to continue searching for any hint of his king’s true love.
And yet he continued, day after day, night after night, diving deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of dreams. His soul ached with a longing that he didn’t fully understand, a gnawing emptiness that grew with each failed attempt. He often told Rosie that it was the challenge, the thrill of unraveling a mystery, of potentially finding one last way he could lord his power over the Dark Faerie’s, proving that he was the most powerful magical being in all of existence. But deep down, a part of him knew the truth - a truth that he did not yet have a name for.
Alastor’s nights were haunted by the memory of his king’s voice, the echo of his laughter, the soft touch of his hand. He yearned for the way those sky-blue eyes would light up with warmth, the way that regal presence could fill any room he entered. There was no denying the strange void that his king’s absence had carved into his soul, a wound that refused to heal despite his relentless efforts to close it.
Charlie didn’t seem to notice his presence, too busy twisting her skirts to pay attention to much else. She looked a mess today, with tiny strands of hair flying loose from her tightly wound bun and her sleeves slightly frayed from where she had picked at them. Her crown sat precariously on her head, desperately clinging to the golden strands, as though it too wanted to fall into endless slumber.
As Alastor walked closer to her, sharp red eyes quickly pinpointed the tiny smear of mud on her cheek. Ah… she had been hiding in the gardens again, hadn’t she? Alastor and her father did used to always find her catching and releasing bugs whenever she was too overwhelmed by the weight of her princess’ coronet. A Queen’s crown - even that of a regent - was even heavier still.
Alastor made a mental note to ask Niffty to release a few choice insects in Charlie’s rooms later.
“Oh hello there, Your Majesty,” Alastor said cheerfully, sweeping into a low bow. His burgundy cloak billowed around him as the magnolias adorning his antlers perked up and began releasing a sweet, earthy fragrance into the air around him. “To what do the king and I owe the pleasure of your presence?”
Charlie flinched slightly, turning her gaze towards Alastor as tension coiled through her shoulders. When she saw who was talking to her, she relaxed just a touch, though her delicate alabaster fingers continued to twist through her skirts.
“O-oh! Hey, Alastor,” she said, false cheer lacing her voice. “Funny seeing you here.” Then, she paused as his words registered with her, wrinkling her nose. “And I asked you last week to stop calling me ‘Your Majesty!’ I’m-”
“The Queen Regent,” Alastor said, straightening with a small smile. “And if I get caught calling you anything less than that, those silly silver-haired blowhards you call a council will send me several strongly-worded letters about my insolence.” He smirked. “I still have plenty of kindling from the last time.”
After giving him a very unqueenly pout, Charlie sighed and straightened her back. “I’m sure they mean well! Or they’re still mad about that time you set it so that the only music allowed to be played in the entire castle for a whole day was jazz… either way.” She flashed him a wide smile, though it didn’t quite reach the periwinkle pools. “Any… any progress?”
Alastor's gaze shifted momentarily to the ornate doors leading to the king’s chambers. As usual, they didn’t answer him. “None that I can boast about, I’m afraid. Your father remains as pathetically stubborn and lazy as ever.”
Despite his cheerful words, the sharp pain flared in his chest when he saw the disappointment flash deep in her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled as she clasped her hands tighter, biting her lip in a clear attempt to keep herself from crying out. She had tried to remain strong throughout all this time, yet each passing day took an even greater toll on her. It was as though the weight of the crown was slowly crushing her dreamer’s soul.
“I… Every day, it feels like we’re running out of time,” Charlie whispered, a tremor lacing through her voice. “The council’s getting impatient and our people…” she swallowed. “They’re… well, they’re talking. They keep asking when he’ll be back.”
Alastor’s grip tightened further around his radio-topped staff, the magnolias in his hair wilting slightly at her words. Despite this, he plastered a smile on his face, cheer lacing his voice. “I’m sure that, given enough time, we’ll find a way to make our king wake up. Besides…” the smile widened into a grin. “All this sleeping and not eating is almost certainly causing him to shrink. At this rate, you’ll outgrow him in no time, my dear.”
Charlie let out a small, strained laugh, the sound echoing delicately around the empty halls. “I wish it were that simple, Al.” She looked down, her fingers twisting together. “I just… I miss him. I miss his voice, his laugh… everything. I know you and the rest of the kingdom keep talking about how strong I’m being, but…” She hesitated, her voice cracking as she spoke. “It’s so hard, Al. It’s so hard being strong when all I want to do is cry.”
Something deep in Alastor’s chest ached at her words. The vines hanging off his antlers lengthened and stretched towards her, gently wiping away her tears as they spilled over. She sniffled, giggling a little as she batted the vines away. They retreated back to his boughs. “You are undeniably an impressive young lady. While I’m sure your father will whine like a child about your lack of theatrics, I know for a fact he would be very proud of you. As for me…” He flicked his hand, the double doors unlocking with a satisfying click. “Rest assured, I won’t stop until he’s back with us. This castle is far less tacky than it should be without him.”
Gentle periwinkle pools flashed up to meet fiery crimson and, for a moment, the weight seemed to lift just a little. “I… Thanks a ton, Alastor. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Alastor hummed. “And you’ll never find out… not as long as I still have my head on my shoulders, at least. Though I’m willing to bet that your council is trying to change that after all this silly nonsense with how I ‘inhumanely’ eviscerated that woman.” The doors opened with a simple wave of his staff, revealing the ornate chambers within. “Would you care to join me today? I can have Rosie bring us ladyfingers later as a little post-dive snack.”
Charlie’s face paled. She cast her gaze to the floor, wringing her hands in her skirt. “I… I have a council meeting soon. I dunno if I have-”
Ah.
This excuse again. Yet another day where the Queen Regent would come so close to seeing her father, only to run away yet again. For some strange reason, a pang of irritation twisted in the back of the faerie’s mind. Why… why was she avoiding entering her father’s chambers for so long? Yes, guilt could be playing a part - a very large part. After all, Alastor had seen enough cases of survivor's guilt to know that it was a dark, dangerous little feeling that could leave a victim absolutely crippled for months, crushed under the weight of their burdens. Charlie seemed to be exhibiting these now, if the way she began to turn away from the door was any indication.
No.
Alastor tilted his head, one long arm reaching out and stopping her as the magnolias on his antlers wilted a bit more. “Oh, Charlie, you’ve been using that excuse with me for months now.” He bent at the waist slightly, looming over the princess as she twisted her skirts even more. “Just what is the hold up, my dear?”
She hesitated. “I-I-” Periwinkles flickered over to the door, then back at Alastor, the Queen Regent biting her lip as she further balled her skirts in her fists. “It’s just that... I...” More tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes.
“Charlie…” The vines on his antlers came to life again, reaching out towards her and gently wiping those tears away. Charlie sniffled, bottom lip trembling as she shook her head, shoulders quaking. “Your father needs you. And you need to face him.” The vines traveled up to her brow now, brushing a single gold lock of hair from her face. “You can’t stay away from him forever.”
Charlie’s eyes widened, her lips parting as if to protest, but Alastor didn’t give her a chance. He retracted his vines, then gently but firmly placed one hand on her shoulder, guiding her towards the door. “Come, my dear. It’s time to see him.”
Her feet dragged as he led her to the door, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She had dropped her skirt now and was picking at her sleeves, shivering at the yawning chamber beyond. “A-Alastor, I… I can’t… Please, I just… I’m not ready…” More tears spilled over, streaking down her cheeks.
“You must, Charlie,” Alastor said firmly. He pressed on her shoulder just a little bit more, urging her forward. “For his sake… and for yours.”
Taking a deep breath, Alastor crossed the threshold, gently pressing on Charlie’s shoulder to help guide her in. The room beyond was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to keep out the harsh sunlight. Shadows quivered and swayed along the walls like specters, casting an eerie glow over the somber scene. The bed, with its heavy canopy and silken bedding, seemed to almost swallow the figure lying motionless upon it.
King Lucifer Morningstar lay still and silent, his crown placed over his heart. His hands were clasped over his stomach, deathly pale and ice cold, as though carved from finest marble. The nearly imperceptible rise and fall of his chest was a small mercy, a reminder that he still lived, even if he was lost to the world.
His platinum gold locks spilled across the pillow like strands of sunlight, casting a pale halo around his pallid face. This combined with the delicate curve of his jawline, the perfectly smooth expanse of his forehead, and the gentle flush of his cheeks gave him the look of an angel, one that had been ripped from Heaven and forced to slumber on Earth. The room itself seemed to hold its breath in the king’s presence, the air heavy with the weight of the magical energy that kept the King of Virgil suspended in time, trapped in endless sleep.
How was it that even in sleep, his features remained strikingly beautiful?
As they stopped before the king’s still form, Alastor felt his breath catch in his throat. Even more shriveled magnolia petals fell to the ground below. He could almost hear the echoes of Lucifer’s laughter, the deviousness of his smirk, the way his tongue stuck out when painting an especially intricate duck. Why? Why was he thinking of this now? Why did his chest ache at the thought of how very distant Lucifer’s memory felt?
With a trembling hand, he released Charlie’s shoulder and took a step back, clutching onto his staff so tightly the wood groaned in protest under his touch. Charlie’s steps faltered as she approached the bed, her hands trembling. For a brief moment, Alastor felt faint magic humming at his knuckles, ready to ensnare the Queen Regent should she attempt to run again. But then, she knelt beside her father, her knees hitting the floor with a small thud. Her tears mingled with the soft light filtering through the curtains as she reached out, porcelain fingers barely brushing against her father’s cold skin.
“Dad…” she whispered, her voice wavering as more tears fell down her cheeks. When Alastor’s vines reached out to her, she waved them away, shaking her head, golden locks flying. “I… I’m so sorry.”
Both hands came up to clasp at Lucifer’s, squeezing them hard. “I’m sorry that I made you like this… and I’m sorry for taking so long to come visit.” She hiccupped, then wiped her nose on her sleeve in a decidedly unqueenly manner. But Alastor wasn’t about to say anything.
“B-but I’m here now,” she continued, her voice cracking. “I-I’m here and Alastor… oh, Dad, Alastor’s been here since the beginning. He’s been absolutely amazing and supporting both me and you, and…” She trailed off, glancing at Alastor. For a moment, delicate periwinkles locked with fierce crimson and she managed a small smile, twin spots of rose appearing on her cheeks. Just like her father.
“I… Dad…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I miss you. I miss you so much. I miss you and love you, okay? More than anything…”
She leaned in and pressed a gentle, trembling kiss to Lucifer’s forehead, her sobs breaking the oppressive silence of the room. Her tears mingled with the golden strands of his hair, shimmering like diamonds against the pale skin of his temple. From the moment her lips touched his skin, a tiny spark of something rippled through the room, as though the room was taking a breath for the first time. For a brief moment, Alastor looked around, searching for the source of whatever that strange event was. But when crimson eyes went back to his king, he found Lucifer unmoving, the only indication of life the faint rise and fall of his chest.
Charlie pulled away now, her sobs slowly subsiding into quiet sniffles. She placed one more kiss on her father’s temple. “I’ll be back, Dad,” she whispered, her voice just a touch stronger now. She delicately placed Lucifer’s hands back on his stomach. “I’ll come back and see you again. And… and I’ll take care of our kingdom. I’ll keep fighting to bring you back. I promise.”
With one last lingering look at her father, Charlie stood, her back straightening as she rose to her feet. She turned to Alastor, periwinkles flashing with a mixture of gratitude and determination. Despite this, her eyes were still wide with sorrow, unshed tears shimmering behind them.
“...I gotta get to the council meeting,” she said. “They’re discussing the harvest festival, and I need to convince them that our people need something to look forward to.” Her smile quaked at the corners, a tiny attempt at reassurance. “It’s the least I could do to help him… and you.”
Alastor nodded and waved his staff in the direction of the doors. “Go on, then. If you need something or someone eviscerated, just send for Niffty. She’s the only mind in all of the fae more demented than my own.”
She gave him a tiny nod, her mouth tightening into a thin line. “Okay. But only if you promise that you’ll say sorry to Sir Pentious for the last time.”
The faerie’s eyes narrowed at her words. “That fool nearly turned our king’s resting place into a circus. It took me a week to kick those silly little familiars out of the dreamscape.”
“He was just trying to help-”
“Help? My dear, he was giving our king nightmares!” Alastor chirped. “Were it not for my intervention, he would still be screaming about eggs trying to eat him.” He paused. “...Which, come to think of it, sounds like quite a funny yolk, don’t you think?”
Charlie let out the tiniest giggle, a small light in the oppressive gloom. “Okay, okay! Fine. I’ll just make you apologize later.” Then, she turned and hurried out of the room, her regal figure a blur of red against the oppressive ink black of the room.
Alastor watched her go, the door closing softly behind her. The room became silent once more, the oppressive quiet pressing down on every inch of the area. His chest constricted as he turned to his king. The longer he gazed upon Lucifer’s still form, the more the cold, invisible hand that had taken up residence within him gripped his insides like a vice.
This was… wrong. Those eyes should be open and sparkling with mischief. Laughter should pass those rose-petal lips. He should be seated on his throne or across from Alastor at their favorite tea table, exchanging playful barbs and dry wit until their laughter echoed through the halls. Not… this. Not the near-corpse that now lay before him.
Guilt gnawed at him relentlessly, a dark cloud that shadowed his every waking moment. This had been his fault; he had been the one to simultaneously save the princess and doom the king. His decision, born of twisted desperation and strangely unyielding loyalty, had led to this endless twilight. The only thing he could do now was make up for his mistake. His failure.
Alastor knelt beside the bed, his gaze fixed on the king’s serene face. What was he dreaming about now? From the lack of furrow in his brow and tremble in his fingers, he was likely not in the throes of a nightmare. At the same time, the corners of his mouth remained neutral, not curved up into a smile. He wasn’t having an especially happy dream either. The faerie closed his eyes as he ran one hand through his auburn locks. The magnolias on his antlers were little buds now. Fine. He would face whatever was ahead, regardless.
Taking a deep breath, Alastor lifted his radio-topped staff and closed his eyes, weaving the spell he had woven countless times. The air around him hummed and shimmered, warm and fragrant, as if infused with the essence of a thousand blooming flowers. When he opened his eyes again, a radiant portal swirled before him, its edges shimmering like liquid gold. Through its depths, Alastor could see the faint outlines of a grand ballroom, the echoes of a string quartet gently wafting through the air.
With one last long look at the motionless king, Alastor stepped into the portal, feeling a familiar rush as the dreamscape enveloped him. He found himself first rushing through a tunnel of liquid light that shimmered and twisted around him. It soon gave way to a kaleidoscope of colors, blending and morphing into new hues as he dove further and further in. Soon enough, prismatic beams of light danced and curled around him, creating otherworldly patterns that seemed to draw him in every direction. It was as though he were floating through a river of stars, each light but a tiny pinpoint in the vastness of these human dreams.
As he emerged from the portal, Alastor found himself in an opulent ballroom, the entire area shimmering with the light of a thousand candles floating in midair. The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling glittered brightly, their crystals scattering light like millions of tiny stars. The reflections of silken gowns and finely tailored suits created a lovely tapestry of color all over the polished marble floors. The air hummed with a cheerful, upbeat melody played on a quartet of strings.
For a moment, he paused and took in his surroundings, a sense of bittersweet longing settling inside him. His magnolias released a few petals that floated to the floor. This was Castle Morningstar in brighter, happier times; Lucifer’s unconsciousness must be longing for home. Alastor’s breath stuttered as he looked around, immediately recognizing every nook and cranny that he had memorized over the years. This place was such a stark contrast to the silent, empty tomb the castle had long become.
But then, his magnolias quivered, the vines snaking through the crown of his antlers until they hung off like thick green ribbons. Something felt different today. Alastor wasn’t quite sure how or why, but there was definitely a change of some sort. Frowning, red eyes scanned the room, taking in the usual vibrant yet blurred forms of the people and objects around him. Was it something to do with the music in the air? The way everyone else was dressed? No… all of those seemed to have remained the same.
What hummed in the air around him was magic.
Alastor followed the hum, brow furrowing as he weaved through the crowd. Yes, this was certainly a very gentle, sweet sort of magic, the kind his mother used to cast on him whenever he couldn’t sleep. It was inexplicably drawing him somewhere, beckoning to him, begging him to follow. When he finally pushed past an especially poofy pair of gowns, he froze, brow furrowing even more as he beheld the sight in front of him.
It was a rather simple wooden door, one that he could’ve sworn had never been there in the waking world. It stood in stark contrast to the dreamscape. The ballroom was a place of ethereal beauty, with the flickering candlelight casting a soft glow over the polished marble floor and walls adorned with intricate tapestries. But this door… This door was different. It was dark and dilapidated, its surface marred by deep scratches and peeling paint. The wood was weathered and splintered, with rusty iron hinges that looked as though they hadn’t been oiled in centuries. It seemed so out of place in this grand, opulent setting. For a moment, Alastor’s fingers twitched as he stared at the door, that strange magic humming through him, quietly begging him to open it.
Why would Lucifer dream of this?
A tiny flash of crimson caught his eye, tearing his attention away from the strange door. Looking up, he watched as a short, slim figure dressed in purest white, gleaming gold, and a tiny crimson capelet disappeared through an open door above. He knew that door. It led to one of the palace balconies. For a ruler so revered and popular with his people, Lucifer often retreated to the furthest corner away from the hustle and bustle during parties like this one. It would seem that even in his dreams, he was no different. Alastor let out a low chuckle and shook his head as he glided up the stairs, careful not to draw too much attention to himself, and slipped out the door.
King Lucifer Morningstar stood leaning over the balcony railing, his platinum blonde locks gleaming in the moonlight. He seemed to not notice the faerie approaching him, too busy focusing on staring at the moon above. For a few minutes, Alastor stood there clutching onto his staff, fully expecting his king to do as he always did: realize that there was someone tall, dark, and (in Lucifer’s words) creepy staring a hole through his head, turn around, and nearly throw himself off the balcony in shock.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, Lucifer kept staring out into the world beyond, completely oblivious to Alastor’s presence. Irritation twisted in Alastor’s chest at the sight. Really now? His king was ignoring him in the dreamscape? This was a new low, even for someone as low to the ground as him.
Alastor cleared his throat, pulse quickening as the king flinched and whirled. Sky-blue met fiery red, and Alastor’s grip tightened on his staff in response. While Lucifer gathered his bearings, Alastor paused, searching his king’s face for a sign, any sign of recognition. He had seen this face countless times before, spoken to his king so, so many times. And every time he did so, he had dared to hope - hope that perhaps this time, Lucifer would recognize him. That this time, he would not be approaching his king as a stranger.
But just like before, the blue gaze that met him was a distant one. It was as though he saw Alastor through a veil, recognizing him but not quite. Something in Alastor’s chest tightened at that stare, twisting into a knot. It was… disappointing, but not unexpected. After all, he had been forced to reintroduce himself to his king so many times before in countless other dreams. What was another little introduction?
“Well, what do we have here?” the faerie began, tilting his head. “I see His Majesty still has a penchant for moonlit brooding. Do you plan on regaling the stars with your woes, or will I be the one graced with tonight’s pathetic little lamentations?”
Lucifer quirked an eyebrow. Sky-blue eyes slowly traveled up and down Alastor’s form, taking in his burgundy cloak, auburn hair, and the magnolias and vines crowning his antlers. “Uh, sorry, who are you? Are you one of the new busboys or waiters or something?” He smirked, a playful glint dancing in his gaze. “Listen, busboys belong in the kitchen. So if you’re lost, you should head that way before you get a wine bottle or whatever thrown at you. I heard the Head Chef’s already broken into the good stuff tonight.”
Alastor let out a low sigh, shaking his head in mock exasperation. Before Lucifer, no ruler of his bloodline had ever dared to speak to a faerie in this way. But then again, Lucifer was no ordinary king.
“My lord,” Alastor replied, his tone dripping with faux sincerity. “If you truly wished to spend your evening watching our Head Chef hurling kitchenware at innocent faeries, all you had to do was say the word. I would have brought my own helmet.” He paused, the smirk on his lips softening into something more genuine. “But alas, I’m neither a busboy nor a knife throwing target. Though I do appreciate the concern for my safety.” His grin widened. “Your kingdom’s utensils can be quite lethal in the wrong hands.”
Lucifer’s smirk faltered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his angelic features. For a brief moment, Alastor dared to hope once again that this time he would be recognized. This time, he could finally just ask Lucifer directly who his true love was. Alas, it seemed fate had other plans as that spark of uncertainty faded almost as soon as it appeared. Alastor squeezed his staff just a touch tighter as a pang of disappointment shot through him.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to have a servant getting all traumatized trying to dig a knife out of whatever’s left of your brain up there,” Lucifer chuckled, the uncertainty replaced once again by his usual demeanor. Warmth crept into Alastor’s chest at the sound of that laugh - he hadn’t heard it in so very long. “But seriously, who are you? Don’t think we’ve met.”
“Why, I am the host of this evening,” Alastor replied, sweeping himself into a dramatic half-bow. He offered Lucifer a playful wink, as he straightened up, his grin as dazzling as ever. “Here to provide a little bit of magic and a lot of entertainment to brighten up the tacky decor of this castle. You may have heard of me in the papers!”
“Hmm… nope! Can’t say I have,” Lucifer said cheerfully. “I guess that just makes you another tall tale.” He snickered.
Alastor let out a hearty laugh despite the twist of irritation in the back of his mind. “Ah yes, I see the only thing lower than your height is your sense of humor.” He sneered when Lucifer scowled in response.
“You know, insulting the king could mean a death sentence for you,” Lucifer said, crossing his arms, though there was no real threat in his tone. His eyes twinkled with amusem*nt, the barest trace of the king Alastor knew starting to shine through. “I could have your head for that.”
The faerie’s grin widened into a smirk. “If that would make you feel better, why not? I believe taking a few inches off of me would make you feel more alive, don’t you?”
Lucifer raised an eyebrow, lips curving into a reluctant smile. “You sure you’re a host and not a jester?” Then, he stepped away from the railing, taking a few steps to close the distance between them. As the light from the party behind them illuminated the king’s face, Alastor noted the dark circles under those sky-blue eyes. Strange. Why would the eternal slumbering king be tired?
“As you’ve told me before, the only difference between the two of those is that one is hired by a king,” Alastor said breezily. “But considering you’ve never actually paid me-“
“Then that makes you an idiot,” Lucifer finished, snickering. Then, he tilted his head, sky-blues narrowing just a touch more. “You said we’ve met before? When?”
Alastor hummed. “Almost two decades ago, at a party in this very castle.” He let go of his staff, allowing it to float in midair. “Quite the celebration, I must admit. Don’t think I’ve been to any quite as lively since!”
Lucifer’s brow furrowed, confusion clouding his features. “Do you have any f*cking idea how little that narrows it all down? We have way too many parties up here all the time. Hell, someone almost tossed me over a balcony during one of them.” He shook his head. “Damn Ozzie… I told Bee to stop spiking his drinks.”
For a moment, Alastor stilled, his staff letting out a low hum of static. The magnolias on his antlers trembled. He tilted his head, the smile plastered on his face. “Aha! I see your poor memory continues to fail you.” He laughed. “You seem to be going senile, Your Majesty. Believe me when I say that not only have we met before, but you’ve come to see me as a most trusted royal guard.” He sneered. “The best, actually. To the point where I know all of your most intimate secrets!”
Lucifer’s frown deepened, his eyes searching Alastor’s face for any hint of deceit. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”
“Well, to start, you have a duck-shaped mole on your-”
“Okay, no!” Lucifer snapped. He crossed his arms, cheeks flushing a brilliant rose. “First off, even if you’re one of my guards, how the f*ck did you know that? Second, don’t you dare tell anyone else.” Blue eyes flashed towards the railing and stared for a second, as though the King of Virgil was considering throwing Alastor over it. “B-besides, even if we’ve met before and you know… that secret, I still don’t remember you. How ‘bout you explain that?”
To that, Alastor had no answer. How could he? He had to invent an entire new spell just to be able to do this much. How was he supposed to know that every time he stepped into one of Lucifer’s dreams, it meant he would have to introduce himself again? That he would have to slowly chip away at Lucifer’s natural walls and get close to him again? That he would constantly have to half-drag his stubborn king into the nearest crowd once they got more comfortable with each other to give his king an opportunity to see the people passing by in his dreamscape?
How many times had Alastor failed to locate even a hint of Lucifer’s true love?
Pushing his thoughts away, Alastor stepped closer, his gaze never leaving Lucifer’s. If he was to continue his mission, the first thing he had to do was get Lucifer off of this damned balcony. “As I said, you’re likely growing senile, my lord. But that’s quite alright. They say that even when memories slip away, some portion of them remains. Perhaps tonight, we can bring back a small spark.” He extended his hand, magnolias on his antlers blooming more fully, their fragrance filling the air. He watched as Lucifer slowly raised an eyebrow. “Shall we?”
The King of Virgil hesitated for a moment, sky-blue pools searching Alastor’s face. Then, he reached out with trembling fingers and placed his hand in Alastor’s. Almost immediately, electricity danced up Alastor’s arm, causing his heart to skip a beat in response.
Lucifer gave him a bemused grin. “This better not be a weird faerie trick.”
The faerie laughed. “Now why would I ever waste my magic on you tonight? It’s much more entertaining when you can actually remember and react properly. No, as long as you’re unable to remember me, I’m reserving my power for special occasions only.”
“What, our first dance isn’t a special occasion?” Lucifer teased as he allowed Alastor to pull him away from the railing and to the center of the balcony.
Alastor chuckled. “This is hardly our first dance, my dear.” Then, he waved one hand, his staff pulsing gently in response.
The gentle, lilting melody of a violin began playing over the radio, filling the balcony with a hauntingly beautiful tune. Without missing a beat, one of Alastor’s hands found Lucifer’s while the other gently slotted itself at his waist. The music wove around them, seeming to draw in the stars themselves as the two of them slowly, hesitantly began to sway in time with the song.
Lucifer was a vision tonight. Bathed in silver moonlight, his platinum hair shimmered like spun silk, his eyes a captivating shade of blue that contrasted beautifully with the evening sky. When Alastor spun him, his crimson capelet whipped out, fluttering gently in the evening breeze.
How long had he spent dreaming with this man, searching for the one person who could break Lucifer’s silence? Who could bring back the spark to Lucifer’s eye, the musical timbre of his voice? How many more times would they have to dream together before that person would be found? It had already been so long since Lucifer fell asleep, so long since the last time he and Alastor had sat together in the gardens, trading barbs, stories, and laughter. The faerie’s heart clenched at the memory, aching for a time long passed.
“What’s wrong?” Lucifer asked, breaking Alastor from his thoughts. The King of Virgil flashed him a sardonic smile, sky-blues flashing with mirth. “Don’t know your left from your right?”
Alastor smirked. “Just distracted by how poorly you follow. Perhaps your poor memory is less about you going senile and more about you being unable to pay attention to anything.”
As the music swelled, their steps began to synchronize, the awkwardness melting away with each passing moment. Everything became more fluid, more natural, as if they had danced together a thousand times before. Alastor’s hand tightened slightly around Lucifer’s as he guided the king through the intricate steps of their waltz, imagining for just a moment that he could feel Lucifer’s pulse race just a touch faster.
But that was impossible.
“You said before that I don’t pay you,” Lucifer remarked, spinning out of Alastor’s hand and then back, his halo of platinum hair flying around him like a golden crown. “So why stick around? Don’t you faeries disappear the moment you get the entertainment you’re looking for?”
“Well, I certainly can’t deny that,” Alastor said. “Though you are correct. It is rather bizarre for a faerie to stick around.” He spun Lucifer again, watching as the king’s capelet fanned out, catching the moonlight. “But what can I say? The Morningstar Royal Family is an absolutely endless font of entertainment.”
Lucifer quirked an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that all we are to you? Entertainment?”
The corners of Alastor’s smile softened just a touch. “If I said yes, would you believe me?”
Lucifer only hummed at that.
Suddenly, the world around them began to shift, the edges of the balcony blurring as its wrought iron railings dissolved into mist. The air grew colder, crisp and clean, as the world around them transformed. A beautiful snowy rose garden emerged from the mist, illuminated by the soft glow of fairy lights that fluttered above them like a swarm of fireflies, casting a golden glow over their surroundings. Snow-covered trees dotted the landscape, branches heavy with glittering frost. As they moved across the wintry path, clusters of white flowers burst from the snow, mingling with the fiery red roses that seemed to dance along with the music.
Alastor’s eyes widened as he looked around. He… he recognized this dreamscape. He had visited it before. This was one of the first dreamscapes he had ever visited, one of his first failures. He hadn’t been back here since his earliest dream dive. On top of that, Lucifer only ever dreamt of one single dreamscape at a time. So why did the ballroom change? Why was Alastor sent back here? And was the king in his arms the same one from the ballroom?
As Alastor spun Lucifer yet again, the king’s attire changed seamlessly, as though the fabric of the night itself was weaving into his clothes. His white and gold-spun suit transformed into pitch black robes lined with cobalt blue. A silver pin appeared on his lapel, then bloomed, transforming into a beautiful blue flower. As each petal unfurled delicate veins of bronze weaved their way along its edges. Magic hummed in the air around them, seeming to radiate from their linked hands.
Lucifer looked up at him, the corners of his mouth tightening just a touch, the center of his perfect brow furrowing slightly as tension coiled in his shoulders. When their eyes met, the slightest trace of recognition lit up in those sky-blues. Alastor’s breath stilled, forest green robes billowing around him as he gazed down at the man in his arms.
This man was both his king and not. This Lucifer had lived another life completely as a teacher rather than a king. When Alastor had initially approached him, he reacted with a level of guardedness and almost hostility that the faerie had never experienced with the king he knew. It had been a true challenge to get to know this version of Lucifer; Alastor had to slowly chip away at the wall built by the tragedy of his past and the burden of his family name. And yet when he did,he found that he actually knew this man just as well as he knew his king.
It was in the way his tongue poked out while reading. It was in the way he plucked at his sleeves when he was overthinking. It was in the way he looked at Charlie with a gaze full of wonder and love, even as he forced himself to watch her grow up from a distance. It was in the way he grinned sardonically whenever he teased Alastor about his height or palate, the way his eyes lit up while whittling a block of wood, the way his laughter lit up the room whenever Alastor told an especially corny joke.
In this world, Alastor had walked with him, laughed with him, traveled with him. They taught classes together, read together, even dueled on especially boring days. The entire time, the faerie kept a maroon eye out for the little professor’s true love, searching the throngs of others in this dreamscape for a hint, a whisper, a sign.
But that true love never appeared.
“What’s wrong, Professor?” Lucifer asked mockingly, snapping Alastor out of his thoughts. A small smirk lit up his features as he tilted his head. “Did that nasty diet of yours finally glue your mouth shut?”
Unable to help himself, Alastor laughed. “Please, Morningstar.” He dipped Lucifer briefly, then straightened, his grin only widening when Lucifer’s cheeks took on an even deeper shade of rose. “It’ll take much more than a few interesting delicacies to keep me quiet. In fact, I just acquired some tasty new snacks! Shall we have some when we’re done here?”
Lucifer grimaced. “You’re disgusting.”
“And your palate lacks curiosity, little professor.”
A laugh bubbled up from Lucifer’s chest, emerging as a gentle mist. Once again, Alastor found himself looking around in shock as the dreamscape around them began to ripple and shift. Already he could sense them traveling to another place, one that he was also quite familiar with, having visited it somewhere in between his 100th and 150th dive.
The snowy garden dissolved now, fine firs and delicate petals giving way to packed dirt. The trees seemed to bow as they left, making room for strange metallic boxes with doors and windows embedded into them. The fairy lights shimmered, then faded into the glow of even brighter lights above. The song’s tempo picked up now and they easily adapted to it, gentle swaying giving way to lively rock-steps and cheerful twirls. They swept across the lot like they had practiced this dance for hours - and in this dream, they had. As they whirled around the lot, Lucifer’s cobalt and black robes gave way to a tight pair of trousers and a plain shirt. His flower faded away in a puff of mist.
When those blue pools looked up at him, there was a softness in his gaze that the professor was yet to develop, that the king distinctly lacked. This Lucifer had grown up in the lap of luxury, loved by thousands of strangers. But they didn’t love him simply because of a crown he wore; rather, it was because of the many different crowns he was capable of wearing. This Lucifer was both a dreamer and a performer. While exploring this dreamscape, Alastor had lost count of the number of roles that this version of his king had performed in, each one just as beautiful and thrilling as the last.
There were no wars for him to fight, no complicated political alliances he had to make, no magical curses hanging over his head. And yet the challenges he faced were still so human in nature. After all, what other species in this world - dream or otherwise - constantly sought to take advantage of others, to gain power at any cost?
Still, just like his king, this Lucifer persisted, finding joy in the face of humanity’s darkness and bringing that same joy to what he called the “silver screen.” When he and Alastor had met initially in this dreamscape, Alastor found himself adopting a similar role here, performing so he could bring art to life. And when faced with a huge throng of people on their way out of an especially grueling rehearsal, it was Lucifer who dragged him straight into the center of the crowd, his face glowing with joy as he shook hands, cracked jokes, and signed objects like it was his greatest joy.
And yet still, no true love appeared.
Suddenly, Lucifer - no, Luci - pulled him in, so close that their bodies clashed together, stealing the faerie’s breath away. Warmth traveled straight from Luci’s hands to the faerie’s cheeks and for a brief moment, he stumbled, maroon coat slipping slightly from his shoulders. But then, just as quickly, he found himself being spun around, laughter bubbling up in his chest as ecstasy thrummed through his veins. The next thing the faerie knew, he was the one being dipped, Luci fixing him with a dazzling smile that made all the lights around them seem dim in comparison.
“What’s wrong, Al?” Luci asked, smile widening as a gentle, bell-like laugh rang out from the other man’s chest. “Got nothing to say for once?”
Al looked up at him, flashing Luci his own dazzling grin. “Hardly, Morningstar. Just wondering.”
Luci raised an eyebrow. “Wondering what?”
Without warning, Al tightened his grip, using his weight to reverse their positions. Rose-petal lips parted with a small gasp as he dipped Luci low to the ground with a flourish. Platinum gold strands fluttered in the slight breeze, sky-blue eyes widened in surprise and delight as Al grinned down at the other man. Their faces were only a few inches from each other, so close that he could feel the gentle flutter of Luci’s breath across his face and the hammer of Luci’s pulse beneath his skin.
“Wondering what your face would look like if I did that,” Al murmured breathlessly.
Luci flushed an even brighter red, a tiny furrow appearing on his perfect brow as he reached up with one hand and shoved Al’s face away. “Hey, I thought you were the guy who was all about personal space here! Why are you so up in mine?” Despite his words, there wasn’t any venom in his voice.
Al laughed and pulled Luci back to his feet, swinging him around as they began dancing again. “What can I say, Star? You make your space very hard to keep away from.”
Luci snorted and spun out again, kicking up a cloud of dirt as he went. It was… a very large one. Too large. So large, in fact, that it completely obscured the area, and-
The man who spun back into Alastor’s arms was the same yet also quite different. Gone were the plain clothes and bright blue eyes, now replaced by gleaming white armor and eyes that flashed red and gold. When he grabbed Alastor’s crimson gauntlet, he stumbled slightly, laughter lighting up his features.
The world around them shifted once more, the garish lights above shimmering and fading, to be replaced instead by the golden glow of a sunset. Trees sprung up behind them as a cascade of magnolias danced through the air, their armored boots slipping slightly on the smooth stone pathway. Dimly, Alastor noted the gleam of golden runes dancing along his vambraces as the music changed again, allowing him to lead his king down the path in yet another graceful waltz.
He had spent a very long time in this particular dream - years, really. For some odd reason, Lucifer had clung to this dreamscape longer than expected. Just like in the waking world, he was a king with a daughter named Charlie. And just like before, he had fought in a war when Charlie was just newly born. But unlike in their world, Alastor had managed to appear long before the war began. In fact, this king had summoned him. And so they had trained together, learning each other’s fighting styles until they could adapt in battle as easily as they could breathe air.
He had hoped that, since this Lucifer was also a king, he would have plenty of opportunity to meet others in this dreamscape and perhaps finally find a hint towards his king’s true love. But again, even with all the years he spent in this dreamscape, he had come up with nothing every time. What was worse, this Lucifer - just like in the waking world and almost every other dreamscape - had also previously been married to a Queen Lilith.
Every mention of her, every faint memory of her presence, stirred something unfamiliar and unsettling in the faerie. He didn’t fully understand it, but the sensation gnawed at him, a strange mix of bitterness and longing. He had told himself over and over again that such a feeling meant nothing - that it was merely the frustration of his fruitless search, but deep down, he sensed there was more to it. There was always more to it.
Why did the thought of Lucifer’s past love prick at his heart so sharply? Why did he find himself wishing that he had been there first? Why was it that, whenever he found himself in the deepest throes of Lucifer’s nightmares, he took pride in being the one to hold Lucifer, to shield him from the horrors, to give him the strength to chase those nightmares away?
Lucifer’s laughter broke through his thoughts, a musical note that danced alongside the delicate magnolias that had landed in the king’s hair. When he grinned up at Alastor, those red and crimson eyes twinkled in playful relief.
“We should probably stop fooling around and start planning for rebuilding and stuff,” Lucifer said, his tone slightly clipped but also just a touch more cheerful than expected for someone who had just fought a terrible war. “Gotta help set up supply lines to the people too. Oh sh*t, and I gotta try to get the money together to pay-”
“My lord,” Alastor interrupted, smirking as he grabbed his king by the wrist and pulled him close, causing him to stumble once again. “Just what will it take to make you stop being a workaholic?” He hummed, one hand trailing down to Lucifer’s hip. “Shall I break your legs?”
Lucifer scowled, bringing up one white-gauntleted hand and smacking Alastor in the chest with it. It glanced off the crimson chest plate, causing the golden runes to appear once again and quake slightly in the wake of the blow. “How about you stop being a sick and twisted bastard first? Seriously, most people offer me a massage or a bath or something to get me to relax. You? You jump straight to breaking my legs. What the f*ck’s wrong with you?”
Alastor laughed, then twirled his king with one hand before spinning around as well, interlocking their fingers together. “Just my way of spicing things up around here! Being surrounded by simpering peasants all the time does get quite tiring, doesn’t it?”
Lucifer rolled his eyes, a grin spreading across his face as the magnolia blossoms around them began to pick up speed. The soft petals swirled around the pair, creating a whirlwind of brilliant pink and white, their sweet yet earthy fragrance growing stronger with each passing second. The blossoms shimmered softly in the breeze, catching the light of the setting sun and transforming the very air around them into a whirling kaleidoscope of colors.
Alastor slotted his hands at the gentle dips of Lucifer’s waist and picked him up, spinning his king around as gleaming white armor melted away, replaced by a long white coat, black leather boots, and a red and pink vest. The red and gold of Lucifer’s eyes now gleamed with an extra spark, as though the universe itself was trapped within his gaze. When Lucifer threw back his head and laughed, the slightest trace of exhaustion laced his voice, as though he hadn’t slept in decades.
How ironic, for someone who slept and dreamed for so long.
Alastor’s grin widened as a silk top hat appeared on this Lucifer’s head, adorned by a gleaming golden snake and a sharp golden crown. Just like in so many other dreams and in the waking world, he was a king here, one who ruled over a strange, twisted realm.
But what made this one so different was the fact that leading up to Alastor meeting him, he had known nothing but the bitter taste of failure - failure of being a good son, a good brother, a good king, husband, and father. And yet, despite all of his failures, one thing never wavered: he loved his daughter above all else. And because he loved her, he wanted to be good. He yearned to shed the chains of all his past mistakes. He strove and dreamed to be better, to do better. And with every step he took, every improvement he made to himself, he did it all with nothing but his daughter and her dream in mind.
Alastor had visited this place so many times. For some reason, this dreamscape was where his king’s mind wandered the most. Each visit found Alastor scouring the throngs of strange, twisted creatures that populated the area, hoping to find a clue that pointed towards Lucifer’s true love. After all, if Lucifer insisted on dreaming of this place so often, then it surely held some significance, right?
But after countless dives into this dream, after enduring so many cutting remarks and less-than-playful jabs at this version of his king, Alastor had come to a rather startling realization. This version of Lucifer had no need for a true love. No, what he had needed more than anything was for someone, anyone, to reignite that spark . The spark that danced in his eye no matter the dreamscape, no matter the world. It was the spark of a dreamer, of a creator, of someone who looked forward to waking up every single day to make his dreams a reality.
And so Alastor had made it his mission whenever he came back to this world to help reignite that spark. Whether it was deliberately inciting arguments with the diminutive king or randomly challenging him to various games, Alastor always found some way to inspire that creativity he knew so well. Slowly yet surely, he had helped guide this version of Lucifer out of his own darkness. Their relationship transformed from one of antagonistic barbs to shared smiles and laughter. Seeing that change, watching as the Lucifer of this world grew from a man wracked with anxiety and loneliness to a fierce protector, creator, and king had filled Alastor with a sense of pride like nothing else in the waking world.
Because that was who his king was, in every dream and every world: a dreamer.
A king.
Someone very important to Charlie.
Someone very important to Alastor.
Someone he…
He-
…
…
Oh.
The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning and he stumbled slightly, his heart pounding in his chest. Lucifer let out a tiny, playful yelp as he stumbled as well. The white silk hat fluttered off his head as their bodies tangled together, then collided with the cold marble beneath them.
For a brief moment, everything stilled, Alastor’s breath quickening as red-tipped claws gently dug into his king’s coat. Then, the final notes of their song faded away and the radio-topped staff fell to the floor with a loud clatter, shattering the moment and scattering it among the stars.
Lucifer blinked up at him slowly, gold and red gaze searching his face. A single moment of silence stretched into an eternity, delicately crystalized in time. Then, he cleared his throat, bringing Alastor’s to the fact that- oh. He untangled his legs from Lucifer’s, then stood, offering his hand to the king.
Lucifer’s touch was a soft inferno, one that sent gentle sparks up Alastor’s arm and all the way up to the tips of his ears. The king’s gaze never left Alastor’s face, the golden hues in his eyes softening to a warm glow. One hand came up and brushed a lock of bright red hair from Alastor’s face, summoning more sparks that gently hummed around the faerie’s skin. The king smiled up at him as the tension that had coiled around his frame melted away, replaced by a serene, almost ethereal calm. Then, he cleared his throat and took a step back, his touch never leaving Alastor’s arm.
“...I know you,” Lucifer said softly, his voice echoing gently in the stillness of the throne room. He stooped down for just a second and scooped up his hat, placing it back on his head with a slight flourish. “You’re Alastor.”
“That I am,” Alastor answered, grin sharp and wide, his long red overcoat quickly lengthening and darkening into his usual deep burgundy cloak. The radio-topped staff flew into his waiting hand, red-tipped claws retreating as caramel flesh materialized in their place. “I’m pleased as punch to be so memorable to you, Your Majesty.”
Three words danced on the tip of his tongue, gently waltzed around the strings of his heart. Despite the gentle joy thrumming in his chest, he bit his tongue, silencing the words that threatened to spill out. He… It didn’t matter what he felt. Not now. Not ever.
After all, it was not true love if it was not returned.
The world around them was gently shimmering again, the cold marbled floor giving way to a different, more familiar one. The castle walls around them rippled and swayed, giving way to the rich tapestries and beautiful stained glass windows of Castle Morningstar. Flower garlands appeared on the walls, colorful ribbons hung from the crystal chandeliers above. Alastor paused for a moment, the magnolias in his antlers gently opening once again as a few ribbons fluttered down and settled among the blooms.
They were in the ballroom again, but on a different day, at a different time. This was an all too familiar day. The day their fates changed forever.
Lucifer looked around, recognition flashing in his gaze as his eyes turned sky-blue once again. “I… This is the day we met, isn’t it?” A trace of melancholy crept into his voice as his eyes widened, watching as a golden light rushed to engulf them. “…Charlie’s christening.”
It was a beautiful spring morning. Or at least, it was a beautiful spring morning to anyone who didn’t constantly have flowers hanging from their antlers. Alastor’s cane let out another irritated buzz as a small swarm of insects once again came too close to his face, attracted by the sticky nectar his magnolias had decided to start leaking now that it was time for fertilizing. Why did the gods above hate him so much? Even his own mother didn’t have these issues with her antlers - in fact, she had been granted the gift of just having leaves all over her boughs, which while not nearly as showy was much more practical in terms of everything else.
Nearby, Rosie giggled, a few more rosebuds popping into her hair. Unfortunately, she wasn’t joining in on his suffering. For some reason, she had been granted the gift of, well, roses. Self-pollinating flowers. The kind that didn’t produce gallons of nasty, sticky nectar or buckets of pollen. For a brief moment, Alastor considered intimidating her into trading flower affinities with him, but then thought better and shook his head. That would, at best, get him on the wrong end of an especially nasty hex. At worst? Well, there was a reason why Rosie had been born with razor-sharp teeth. After all, only the sharpest of canines would be fit for rendering gossamer wings asunder.
“Sorry I’m late!”
The two faeries looked up and grinned as the third and final member of their little delegate flew down towards them, wings buzzing with the shrill hum of a cicada. Niffty grinned widely as she landed on her feet, twin buns of orchis italica shaking slightly as she landed on her tiny feet. Once she got her bearings, she stood up straighter and saluted, wings continuing to buzz eagerly.
“Niffty! You’re nearly an hour later than you should be,” Despite his words, Alastor’s grin only widened. “What demented little thing were you doing this time?”
Niffty twirled one fiery red curl around her finger, letting out a cheerful trill. “I was about to leave on time, I promise! But then I saw a roach in my room. I followed it all the way back to its little roach nest and, well…” She giggled, the tiniest flash of mania shining behind her big red eyes. “Husk was super mad about it ‘cuz I borrowed his shaving cream to suffocate them, but stabbing them and stringing them up as an example in front of their little roach friends would’ve taken me even longer! So I had to go buy him more cream.”
Alastor raised an eyebrow, then shook his head, a fond smile curling at the corners of his lips. “Oh, what I would do for the tiniest glimpse into that demented little mind of yours.”
“Oh, come now, Alastor. That’s hardly the worst thing she’s ever done,” Rosie trilled cheerfully. “Besides, it’s perfectly acceptable to be fashionably late, especially in polite company.” She looked down from their position, watching through the window of the ballroom as foreign dignitaries, pompously dressed councilmen, and smiling peasants began filing into the room to the blare of the trumpeters. “Our cue should be coming up soon. Remember to tuck your wings away when you land, and Alastor-” She shot him a tight, sharp-toothed grin. “No threatening to eat the baby. That poor king down there’s probably stressed enough as it is!”
Alastor sighed and shook his head, tiny petals and even tinier drops of nectar falling from his magnolias. “Rosie dear, I’ll have you know that I’ve gone on a diet since the end of the war. My breakfasts now consist of much leaner meats.”
Rosie’s gentle, bell-like laugh rang through the air, a stark contrast against the harsh blare of the trumpets below. Alastor winced as the trumpets’ call split through the air, reverberating across the stone walls. Once again, his staff let out a low, irritated buzz as his vines ascended briefly to plug his ears. What was with humans and making everything so loud?
“Announcing His Royal Majesty, King Lucifer Morningstar and Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess Charlotte Morningstar!”
The grand doors swung and Alastor’s gaze was immediately drawn to the slim, yet regal figure dressed in white sweeping into the room. King Lucifer was much shorter in person than expected, yet his presence seemed to fill the entire room. His platinum locks shone like liquid starlight, highlighting piercing sky-blue eyes and rose-hued cheeks and lips. With every step he took, his capelet rippled behind him, drawing the eye to the delicate, elegant lines of his form. In his arms, he cradled a tiny bundle swathed in pink and gold, undoubtedly the Crown Princess Charlotte, nestled comfortably in delicate silks.
How was it that one single human could outshine every star in the sky?
A small snort beside him snapped the faerie out of his thoughts. He turned to face Rosie and Niffty, who were watching him with identical knowing grins. For a brief moment, he said nothing, merely narrowing his eyes at them, silently daring them to speak.
Niffty spoke first, tiny silver sparks dancing from her wand as her grin widened. “See something yummy down there?”
Blush pink magnolias fell to his feet as Alastor laughed and shook his head, desperately willing the strange flutter in his chest to disappear. “Hardly. I’ve seen and tasted plenty of kings and princesses in my lifetime. That one down there is barely snack-sized!”
“Oh, Alastor!” Rosie said as she placed her hands on her hips, her skull-topped staff floating in the air beside her. “You should know by now that there’s plenty of ways to enjoy a snack. Besides, haven’t you heard? Now that there’s an official heir to the throne, that silly council of his won’t be trying to pressure him into another political marriage. He’ll be free to mingle with whoever he wants!”
Before Alastor could say anything more, the trumpets blared again, this time causing sharp whine of feedback to emit from his staff. As even more magnolias fell from his antlers, he made a mental note to ensure that every trumpet in the land was melted down and forged into something far less grating before the end of the day. Perhaps an especially shiny piano would do.
“Presenting Their Most Honored and Exalted Excellencies, the Three Good Faeries: Mistress Rosie, Lady Niffty, and Master Alastor!”
“Wait, we’re good?” Niffty asked, peeking over Alastor’s antlers as Rosie summoned a beam of light from the heavens. “Since when?”
“Since we won the war, of course!” Rosie said cheerfully. “You know what they say! History is written by the winners-”
“And war crimes are only such when they don’t benefit the victors,” Alastor finished, his grin widening until it nearly split his face in two. “I do believe we still have a prisoner or two that haven’t disclosed Susan’s location. Perhaps later the three of us could, oh… Give them a reminder what horrors a faerie could inflict if crossed?”
Rosie’s bell-like laugh split the air once more. Then, she gestured to the beam. “Hop in, you two. Don’t want to keep His Majesty waiting!”
The three faeries descended into the room on the beam of light, a silly little trick that drew gasps and murmurs from the gathered crowd. Alastor rolled his eyes and briefly glanced around, taking in the awed faces of the nobles and dignitaries. Really, this little light beam trick was so trivial that a faerie infant could easily master it in an hour. Why was it that humans were always so very impressed by such trivial bits of magic?
His gaze, however, quickly zeroed in on King Lucifer, who had by now placed the princess into a little white and gold bassinet next to his throne. The king’s expression was completely neutral, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes that made Alastor’s pulse race. Those blue eyes seemed to shimmer as he regarded their little delegation, the hand seated on top of the bassinet tightening ever so slightly at their approach. It was only natural; after fighting both against and alongside faeries for so long, he was likely still getting used to the rushing auras of magical energy that hummed around them every waking moment of the day.
When they landed, Rosie stepped forward first, her demeanor both elegant and playful. “It’s good to see you again, Your Majesty,” she said, sweeping herself into a deep curtsy. Then, she tilted her neck up, a wide grin gracing her face. “I don’t think we’ve seen each other since that little skirmish in the Moors. I gotta say, I loved what you did with that little cavalry maneuver. Think you could explain it to me sometime?”
Lucifer’s lips curled into a grin, his eyes flashing with recognition. When he spoke, a gentle tenor rang out, wrapping around Alastor’s ears and gently dancing through the air. “Only if you show me how you did that thing with the tar pits. That was insane!” Then, he looked over to Niffty and Alastor and tilted his head, confusion written all over his face. “Don’t think I’ve met these two yet.”
Rosie opened her mouth to speak, only for Niffty to immediately fly over, wrapping her tiny hands in Lucifer’s lapels. She thrust her face into the King of Virgil’s shocked expression, giggling the entire time.
“I’m Niffty!” she said excitedly, her wings buzzing eagerly as Lucifer yelped and froze, his back ramrod straight as the faerie’s tiny shoes dug into the lapels of his suit. “I like boys! Bad boys. Super duper bad boys.” She let out a high-pitched giggle, then pressed her nose even more into the king’s forehead. “I cleaned up all the messes you left behind after you were done tearing apart the enemy.”
Lucifer, clearly unused to such… rapt attention swallowed, his arms frozen halfway up to his face, as though trying to decide whether it would be worth potentially offending three powerful magical beings by ripping Niffty off his face. It was a rather funny sight, one that Alastor really should have just let play out to see if the ending of the interaction would be just as entertaining. But alas, a strange pang of irritation lit up in his chest at the sight of Niffty being so close to the king, bothersome enough where he decided to step forward and play the part of knight in magnolia armor.
“Niffty, dear, if you grip onto that shirt of his any tighter, you might just tear it off,” Alastor said, giving her head a light tap of his cane. Almost immediately, Niffty let go of the king’s lapels and fell to the floor with a hard thud, both arms and legs sticking up in the air as though she were a dead bug. From the almost ghastly grin plastered on her face and the way she was giggling almost nonstop, she clearly took that well. “And while I’m sure any children’s tailor worth their salt would be able to remake that for him, we wouldn’t want our king to have to take time out of his very busy schedule for that, would we?”
Much to Alastor’s delight, one of Lucifer’s eyes twitched at the jab, both of the king’s hands curling into fists. No one else seemed to understand the joke, which was just fine by him; if anything, it made the king’s reaction all the more delicious. The king’s sky-blues narrowed as he reached out his hand and shook Alastor’s, the muscles of his jaw tensing just a touch.
“And who are you? Their butler?”
A tiny buzz of static sounded from his staff as he flashed the king his best, most dazzling smile. “Aha! No! I worked in communications during the war. You may have heard me relaying messages over my radio broadcast.”
“Hmm… nope! Didn’t have much time to listen to outdated music,” Lucifer said, a wicked sneer lighting up his features. “But I’m sure you were absolutely instrumental.”
Something in Alastor’s chest buzzed at the king’s statement, a curious mix of irritation and fascination stirring with him. Was… was that a pun? He couldn’t tell. Oh, but there was a fire in Lucifer’s eyes, a spark that Alastor hadn’t expected from a man so entrenched in royalty. What else lay behind that regal facade? And what would it take for him to break it completely? Before Alastor could counter, Rosie stepped in between them with a cheerful shake of her head.
“Now, now, ladies! Let’s not forget why we’re here!” She gracefully glided over to the bassinet where the princess lay, gesturing to it with her wand. Already, tiny swirls of pink energy gathered at its tip. “Shall we begin the tradition of faerie blessings, Your Majesty?”
Lucifer tore his sky-blues away from Alastor, leaving the faerie suddenly much colder than he had been feeling before. The King of Virgil’s gaze softened as he looked down at his daughter with a gentleness that made Alastor’s chest give him a very annoying squeeze. More magnolias fell to the floor as Alastor inhaled sharply, forcing said squeeze to disappear. Perhaps Adam’s attack on the communications hub had left him more wounded than he had thought. He made a mental note to have Niffty take a closer look later.
“Princess Morningstar,” Rosie began as she bent low over the cradle, tickling the princess’ little button nose. While the infant cooed and squealed, Rosie’s smile softened as she straightened up, twirling her grinning skull-topped wand. Pink sparks flew out of it and danced over the princess’ head. Tiny, pudgy hands reached out as though to grasp them. “You’re gonna be a strong, beautiful queen one day, just like L-” For a brief moment, melancholy flashed over Rosie’s face as she choked on her words, bottom lip trembling. Then, she shook her head and smiled again, though it did not quite reach her eyes. “Today, I’ll give you the thing I loved the most about your mom. I grant you the gift of moxie.”
The pink sparks intensified, swirling around the bassinet before merging into a vibrant aura that enveloped the infant princess. Her tiny fists waved in the air as if to grasp the magic, her laughter filling the room with infectious joy. As the magic settled into her skin, a new confidence seemed to radiate from her, promising that she would indeed grow into a queen with a truly unbreakable spirit.
Niffty stepped forward next, wings buzzing excitedly as she clutched her sharp silver blade in her tiny hands. “Baby Charlie! I’m gonna make sure that you’ll always have the power to succeed no matter what and that no one ever tries to mess with you!” She waved her wand, swirls of silvery magic coalescing over the bassinet. “I give you the gift of tenacity!”
The silver magic twisted and spiraled above the bassinet, forming intricate shapes of various insects. A playful swarm of fireflies emerged, casting a gentle glow as they danced around the baby princess, twinkling like little stars. Charlie’s periwinkles widened in wonder, her tiny hands reaching out to touch the glowing insects. The swarm playfully circled her, drawing a small giggle from her lips. Then, the fireflies disappeared, leaving behind only a few bits of silver glitter mingling with the gentle pink sparks.
It was Alastor’s turn now. His mind raced as he stepped forward, feeling all eyes in the room on him. While never one to back down from a performance, he hesitated as he stood over the princess, his tall form casting a long, antlered shadow over her bassinet. What sort of gift could he give her? She clearly already had the gift of beauty from her father. And if the rumors of the late Queen Lilith were to be believed, then she had the gift of song as well. Perhaps something more useful, like the gift of cunning? Or perhaps the gift of foresight? That was the problem with faerie magic; the possibilities were absolutely, annoyingly endless.
“Your Royal Highness. My gift is-”
Suddenly, thunder smashed through the air with an ear-splitting crack, the sound reverberating through the hall with a bone-chilling echo. The bright and cheerful atmosphere darkened instantly, the vibrant pink and silver magic flickering out as an oppressive darkness seeped into the room. Alastor froze, ice filling his veins as the temperature dropped sharply, the very air growing thick with an otherworldly presence that sent a sharp shiver down his spine. Next to him, the king stiffened as well, his entire face growing ashen gray as he whirled to face the center of the room.
From the coalescing shadows, a figure emerged, cloaked in darkness and exuding a malevolent aura that seemed to swallow the light around it. A tall, imposing woman stepped out, black hair flowing around her like liquid smoke. Her eyes glowed with a sickly, sinister green light, her red-painted lips a macabre twist of malevolence. As she entered the room, every bit of laughter, every whisper, every swish of a skirt disappeared, leaving behind a silence so profound it was as though the breath of death itself had arrived.
“Oh? Did I miss the party?” she asked, voice a playful, chilling note that carried through the hall like the tolling of a death knell. As she moved closer, the flames in the candles above flickered and dimmed, casting long, ominous shadows that danced grotesquely on the walls.
Alastor’s heart pounded in his chest as he tightened his grip on his staff, his eyes never leaving the Dark Faerie. The infant princess, seeming to sense the darkness, began to cry, her wails piercing through the oppressive silence. At the sound of her voice, Lucifer immediately moved in front of her bassinet, one pale hand dropping to the sword gleaming at his side. Rosie and Niffty flanked the cradle as well, their cheerful demeanors shattering as they prepared to face the dark intruder.
“Roo,” Lucifer said stiffly, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. “What the f*ck are you doing here?”
Roo stopped and tilted her head, one hand rising to her chest. “Lucifer! Darling, how long has it been? One month? Two?” She giggled, millions of eyes opening up in her hair, seeming to swim lazily in the swirling darkness. “I must admit, I’ve missed you, my dear king. Ever since dear, sweet Lilith died, I’ve done nothing but think of you.”
“Roo. Darling,” Rosie hissed, grin sharp, eyes cold. “I hate to be such a harpy, but how ‘bout you keep her name out of that unworthy mouth of yours, hm?”
Roo turned to her, eyes flashing with mirth. “Rosie! Oh my dear, you really have aged poorly, haven’t you? The war has certainly taken its toll on your people… and me.” She hummed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “But that’s just how it is, isn’t it? You lose people, I lose people… and then you go and involve a human king just because you weren’t willing to agree to my terms.” She shook her head, her smile turning wicked. “Such shameful behavior.”
A sharp burst of static crackled from Alastor’s staff, his smile widening into a wicked grin. His magnolias shriveled up completely and fell to the floor, vines lashing dangerously from his antlers. “What an interesting little statement, Roo, dear.” He winced inwardly as the scar from Adam’s blow throbbed painfully, as though it were reacting to the Dark Faerie’s malevolent magic. “From what I recall, you were the ones who forced Virgil’s hand. What was it you were doing again? Kidnapping villagers and offering up blood sacrifices? Really now, who could blame our dear little king here? All your people had to do was stop using that kind of magic.”
Roo let out a high, piercing laugh. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Alastor. Tell me, how much faerie blood did you and your pink friend there consume? At least the blood I was spilling wasn’t that of our own kind.”
A snarl tore from Lucifer’s throat. “Enough! State your business, then get the f*ck out of here!” He paused. “...Please.”
“Humans ought to remain where they belong,” Roo said, her voice dripping with contempt as she leveled her glare at Lucifer. “On their knees before my throne. But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Thanks to you helping their side cheat, my people are no more. You’ve forced those of us who remain into your silly little peace treaty and stolen our lands and power away from us.” She sneered. “And now here you are, celebrating our loss and bloodshed with a party for your little princess. How despicable.”
Lucifer’s sword gleamed silver as he pulled it out of his sheath in one fluid motion. A snap of his fingers caused his guards and knights to spring into action, rushing towards the Dark Faerie. At the same time, Rosie activated her wand and Niffty her tiny blade. Pink and silver magic crackled dangerously in the air, thrashing in a truly terrifying display. For his part, Alastor’s own green magic flared to life as he slammed his staff into the ground, thorny black vines bursting from his back and the ground, whipping dangerously around him.
Despite the fierce display, Roo simply smiled, raising one hand to yawn. Then, she opened half of the eyes in her hair, their gaze cutting through the air like knives. The room seemed to twist and warp, the very atmosphere growing heavier as though the air itself were being sucked out. Every single eye locked onto the faeries and humans alike, their pupils dilating and contracting in a nightmarish rhythm.
Suddenly, everyone froze, their bodies going rigid as if turned to stone. The air was thick with a palpable fear, the sound of breathing growing faint and stuttered as terror surged throughout the room. The eyes in Roo’s hair seemed to pulse with a dark, hypnotic power, their gaze seizing control of every muscle and nerve. Alastor snarled inwardly as he desperately fought against her power, his own crackling and snapping dangerously around him. But no matter how hard he fought, his muscles refused to obey him - and thus he stayed, rooted to his spot, helpless to stop the Dark Faerie’s approach.
Roo and Charlie were the only moving creatures in the stilled room now. The Dark Faerie’s laughter echoed like a death knell as she approached the bassinet. Her dark aura cast a long, undulating shadow over the infant princess, causing her tiny face to twist even further as she wailed. The air grew colder, and an eerie, malevolent energy filled the room as the dark magic coiled around Princess Charlie’s tiny form.
“This, my dear,” Roo hissed, venom lacing her every word, “Is a gift from me to you.”
She opened the rest of her eyes, her fingers moving in a delicate, almost graceful dance. Tendrils of darkness wrapped around the princess, who cried even louder now, her tiny voice a heartbreaking wail that resonated through the silence. As the tendrils caressed her porcelain skin, the dark pulsating shape of a spinning wheel appeared above her, with a single sickly green star gleaming at the tip of its spindle.
“Before the sun sets on your sixteenth birthday, you shall prick your finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel,” Roo crooned, her voice dripping with malice. “And once you do that?” She laughed, a high, chilling sound that sent shivers down Alastor’s spine. Her sharp gaze turned directly to Lucifer now, malevolent glee blazing behind her eyes. “You’ll die!”
Pure, unadulterated rage surged from Lucifer’s body as he shattered his paralysis. With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the palace, he charged at Roo, sword gleaming with a blinding light. Simultaneously, Alastor freed himself from the spell with a burst of his own verdant magic with a sharp whine of feedback. Snarling, he pointed his staff and launched a flurry of thorny vines at the Dark Faerie.
Roo’s eyes flashed with dark amusem*nt as she raised her hand, effortlessly deflecting their combined assault. A wave of dark energy blasted both of them back, sending the two men crashing into opposite walls with bone-rattling force. She sneered, her magic flickering slightly as black-feathered wings unfurled from her back.
“You pitiful fools.”
With a powerful beat, she rose into the air, her malicious laughter echoing as she vanished through a nearby window, leaving a trail of darkness in her wake.
As soon as Roo disappeared, the paralysis lifted. Gasps and cries echoed throughout the room as everyone regained their mobility.
Alastor struggled to his feet, grasping at the scar on his chest, eyes wide with horror. His gaze flicked to Lucifer, who was already at the bassinet, cradling his now silent daughter. The raw fear and desperation etched onto his handsome features made bile rise in the faerie’s throat. Despite the chaos, the sight of those sky-blue eyes, shimmering with tears the color of the stars, tugged at something deep within Alastor he hadn’t felt since the days when his mother still lived.
“Is there anything you can do?” Lucifer asked, turning to face Rosie and Niffty. “Please. f*ck, please. You have to save her!”
Rosie’s pale blue gaze flicked over to Alastor, a silent question in her eyes. Unconsciously, Alastor tightened his grip on his staff as he let out a low, shaky exhale. Then, he nodded.
He still had to give his gift.
Lucifer’s gaze snapped to Alastor as the faerie approached, eyes brimming with hope and desperation. The intensity behind his stare caused Alastor’s pulse to race, a mix of terror and a strange, unfamiliar thrill flooding his veins. Alastor swallowed hard, focusing on the forest-green magic he and his mother had always called their own. Green energy swirled around his fingers, forming intricate patterns in the air.
The magnolias on his antlers bloomed once again, colored a delicate creamy white. Alastor let out a low exhale as he stopped in front of the princess and king. “...I’m afraid I can’t break the spell,” he admitted, quietly cursing himself for allowing his voice to tremble. “Roo used nearly all of her remaining power to cast it. She weakened herself for this bit of vengeance. That doesn’t help us at all. But… I can weaken it… and redirect it.”
For a moment, Lucifer said nothing. He only tightened his hold on his daughter, bottom lip trembling as those clear blue eyes searched Alastor’s face. His mouth tightened into a thin line. Despite how gaunt and terrified the king looked, Alastor still found himself completely unable to tear his gaze away. Was the king himself some sort of faerie? It was the most logical explanation. After all, what other sort of creature would have such an ethereal beauty in the face of such a horrible event?
Then, Lucifer exhaled, closing the distance between himself and Alastor with a few graceful, regal strides. With every step closer, the hesitation seemed to melt from his shoulders, replaced instead with hope, determination, and a strange sense of… trust? After everything that had happened? Really?
Humans… really were strange creatures.
The next thing Alastor knew, the infant girl was being pressed into his chest. He stilled, looking down at Lucifer’s eyes. They were filled to the brim with fear, yet also burning with fierce resolve. Perhaps the most beautiful thing Alastor had ever seen. “T-take her,” Lucifer said. His voice trembled with every word, yet his expression held firm. “Take the spell off of her, and…” He exhaled. “Transfer it to me.”
Hundreds of voices started speaking at once.
“Y-Your Majesty!”
“Isn’t that rather foolish of you?”
“Think carefully about this!”
“You can just marry another woman, and-”
“Silence!” Lucifer’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. At the same time, Alastor’s staff let out a roar of static, thorny black vines bursting from the ground and flailing sharply around him and the king. Huh… strange. He… he didn’t intentionally summon those. All at once, the court fell silent again, the air thick with palpable tension. “This is the only way to protect her. My decision is final.”
Then, Lucifer’s hand found Alastor’s, his grip firm yet gentle. A strange warmth spread from their joined hands as they intertwined their fingers, a flicker of something more than mere magic. Alastor’s heart pounded, a heady mix of fear and something achingly sweet tightening his chest. With the gentle scent of crisp apples, sharp cinnamon, and autumn winds wafting around him, Alastor called upon his magic once more, the green energy swirling around them both.
The infant princes floated gently between them, her tiny form bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. Thin green lights traced intricate runes in the air, weaving around the dark tendrils of Roo’s curse. The magnolias on his antlers glowed brighter, their delicate petals shimmering with otherworldly beauty as his vines began to gently float in the air around him.
Those beautiful blue eyes never left Alastor’s, Lucifer’s gaze a mix of gratitude and something deeper, something that pulled at Alastor’s chest and made his breath catch. The faerie’s magic reached out, wrapping around the curse and pulling it away from the princess, drawing it instead towards the king. Towards her father. Towards the man who was so willingly giving up everything for her.
“Charlie… If through that wicked witch’s trick, a spindle should your finger prick, a ray of hope there still may be in this: the gift I grant to thee. Not in death, but just in sleep, thy dreaded curse your father keep. And from this slumber, he shall wake. With true love’s kiss, the spell shall break.”
The green light flared, the dark tendrils of the curse dissolving into the air as the king absorbed the curse. Lucifer’s expression softened, his fear replaced by serene acceptance. As Alastor’s magic pulsed around them, the room was filled with a hushed awe, faeries and humans alike watching in silent reverence as the spell took effect.
The moment seemed to stretch into eternity, the world narrowing to just the two of them. Alastor’s magic continued to flow, the green light gently undulating as it warmed their intertwined hands. Lucifer’s grip tightened around his, a silent acknowledgement of everything Alastor was doing to save his daughter.
As the last of the curse settled into Lucifer, the verdant magic faded, leaving the room bathed in a soft, comforting glow. The princess floated back into her bassinet, now slumbering peacefully, as though the weight of the entire world had been lifted from her tiny shoulders. Alastor released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, his heart still racing from the intensity of the spell.
Lucifer’s eyes met his once more, a small, grateful smile playing at his lips. He lifted Alastor’s hands, pressing it against his chest. Warmth flooded Alastor’s face as he felt the gentle hum of the king’s pulse beneath his fingertips, racing so fast that it nearly mirrored the speed of his own.
“Thank you.”
The image before them faded into mist as the memory ended. The vibrant colors of the dreamscape melted away, leaving behind only the oppressive silence of the room. Lucifer stumbled, clutching at his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The weight of the memory, of Charlie’s curse, seemed to press down on him, crushing the very life from his body.
Alastor’s own heart clenched painfully in his chest as he reached out, gripping Lucifer’s shoulders to keep him steady. The king’s sky-blue eyes, wide with anguish, remained fixed on the spot where the memory had once played out, as if willing it to appear again, to show him a different, beautiful, happy ending. The room around them seemed to hold its breath, the walls closing in with the unbearable weight of their despair.
For a few moments, Lucifer said nothing, merely clutching his chest and breathing hard. The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating. His eyes, usually so bright and fierce, were now dulled with the weight of all that he had seen. Of all he had failed to prevent.
“The… the story doesn’t end there,” Lucifer finally choked out, his voice barely more than a whisper. His voice tore through the stillness, raw and vulnerable, echoing in the hollow space between them.
“...You’re not wrong,” Alastor said, his voice firm despite the quiver of his heart. “Rosie, Niffty, and I helped you gather every single spinning wheel in the kingdom and burnt all of them. The gals had quite a lot of fun with that. Afterwards… I spent the next sixteen years at Charlie’s side… and yours.”
Lucifer swallowed hard. Then, he cast his sky-blue eyes towards Alastor, one hand coming up to touch the hand gripping his shoulder. Warmth spread to the tips of the faerie’s ears as the king’s touch lingered on his, his pulse quickening impossibly more. “What happened on her birthday?”
A pause. An inhale. An exhale. Then, a small sigh as Alastor turned to face his king fully, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other conjuring a small green flame.
“Roo had one last trick up her sleeve,” he said quietly, twisting his hand slightly to allow the green flame to dance across his hand. “Her hobbies seem to consist of being an annoying little thorn in everyone’s side and ensuring that her revenge is carried through. While she did use a majority of her magical power to cast that curse, she still had just enough left to cast a hypnosis spell on your daughter while she was upset at us.” Alastor frowned as the memories surfaced, his stomach twisting violently at the memory of Charlie’s dull, empty eyes. “She summoned a spinning wheel and forced Charlie to prick her finger on it. Once that was complete, she expected Charlie to fall dead and our silly little kingdom to mourn. But, well…” The flame flared out now, revealing an image of Lucifer fast asleep in his chambers. “She got a rather nasty surprise instead.”
The image within the flames was hauntingly beautiful. Lucifer lay slumbering, a vision of brilliant white and gold set against the dark silk sheets. Just like before, his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, barely discernible even now. This was what the kingdom had been robbed of. This was the price he paid for his daughter’s life.
As the two men watched, a thin light appeared over the king’s body, slowly stretching out until he was bathed in the golden light of the corridor outside. Then, Charlie appeared, now dressed in a lovely pink nightgown. She knelt down and grasped Lucifer’s hands, the sight tearing at Alastor’s heart. The intensity of his feelings for the man in the image and for the man before him washed over him in a powerful wave.
Lucifer’s eyes filled with tears as he looked at the image, his hand squeezing Alastor’s even harder. The king’s other hand reached up and gently touched his daughter’s face, causing it to ripple slightly under his touch. Rose-petal lips trembled as he watched her bow her head, pressing his hands against her face. “I… She’s alive.” Relief, gratefulness, and joy flooded the king’s voice, a beautiful smile cresting over his angelic features as thin porcelain fingers trembled over his daughter’s image. “She’s alive .” Sky-blue eyes turned to meet fiery crimson ones, the tears spilling over and running down his cheeks. “You saved her.”
Alastor’s very soul trembled at Lucifer’s words, a raw, primal want cutting through him like a knife. He tightened his grip on Lucifer’s hand. “You saved her, Lucifer. You did what any father would do.” He smiled, then his gaze flickered back to Charlie, watching as she laid her head on Lucifer’s chest, as though listening to his heartbeat. “You sacrificed everything for her. And I’m sure when you wake up again, she’ll be smiling nonstop.”
Lucifer turned to him, searching Alastor’s face. “When I wake up again?”
Alastor took a deep breath, willing his pulse to slow down. He allowed his hand to drop, the green flame flickering away without a sound. “Come now, my lord. You and I saw the same memory, didn’t we? And I know you’ve studied the histories of magic in your kingdom. You should know what the answer to every dark magical curse is.”
A beat of silence. A quiet inhale. A loud exhale. Lucifer’s hand rose to his hair, gently carding through his platinum blonde locks. Rose-petal lips pursed into a tight line. “True love’s kiss…” Blue eyes flickered up to meet deep crimson. “So that’s why you stayed? And that’s why you’re here?”
Alastor smiled wanly. “Initially, I stayed to ensure that the countercurse I cast would hold. I would have been quite irritated if someone toyed with my spell during those sixteen years. And after you fell asleep all those months ago…” The magnolias on his antlers turned a gentle blush pink, fluttering to the ground between their feet. “Well, let’s just say that merely waiting around for a true love to appear is at best an idiotic plan. Your daughter and I both knew that. So while she kept your throne warm, I started diving into your dreams to search for a hint of who your true love might be.” He smirked. “I must admit, my lord, I was quite disappointed to see that I left such a poor impression on you that you never remembered who I was.”
Lucifer smirked back. “Well, maybe if you weren’t so forgettable, I’d actually remember you more often.”
They shared a laugh, the tension between them unwinding like a bowstring, replaced by a warm, budding feeling that could almost be called affection. Alastor felt his heart lighten just a touch, golden sunlight beginning to filter through the windows, now bathing the throne room in a soft, ethereal glow.
Lucifer’s smile softened, his eyes locking onto Alastor’s with a beautiful clarity. He moved his hand away from Alastor’s, then reached up to brush the vines away from Alastor’s face. Even more blush pink magnolias appeared, their delicate petals unfurling and adding a touch of color to Alastor’s antlers. His king’s lips curved into a wide grin.
“So… did you find what you were looking for?” he tilted his head. “You said I’ve been down for months, right? So you definitely found something.”
Disappointment twisted in Alastor’s chest, the pang sharp and bitter. The blush pink magnolias wilted, vines drying out into a dull, lifeless brown. “Shockingly enough… no. I haven’t.” He shook his head. “Regardless of how many dives I’ve done, your true love seems to be quite the stubborn one. I haven’t been able to catch hide nor hair of them even now.”
For a moment, Lucifer said nothing. Then, he started laughing, a rich, beautiful sound. He threw back his head and clutched onto his stomach. It was as though he hadn’t laughed in months.
Alastor raised an eyebrow, irritation twisting in the back of his mind. “Really now, my lord? I reveal to you all that I’ve suffered over these past months and all you can bring yourself to do is laugh at my pain?” Despite his words, his voice softened, a small smile playing on his lips.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Lucifer said, bringing one hand up to wipe the tears from his eyes. “It’s just that… wow . You’d think after getting to know me even better than I know myself, you’d think you’d be able to find your answer by now.”
Alastor frowned. “What-”
“Ugh, just look behind you, Bambi.”
Alastor turned, red eyes widening when he saw an all-too-familiar door behind him. It was the same wooden door as before, dark and dilapidated, with deep scratches and peeling paint. Just like before, it was so out of place in the opulence of the room. And yet, it beckoned to him all the same, its door slightly ajar, a sliver of silvery light spilling through.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Alastor approached it and reached out for its wrought iron handle, but he hesitated, thin fingers trembling above the knob. A coil of fear tightened in his chest, squeezing his heart and the breath from his lungs. This… was it, wasn’t it? The answer to all of Alastor’s dream dives lay beyond that door. Once the person behind it was revealed, Lucifer would wake up. The kingdom would have him again. Charlie would have him again. The world would have him again.
But Alastor would lose him.
Alastor would be alone.
Alastor would break.
Alastor would-
…
…
…
He had a duty to fulfill. Taking a deep breath, heart pounding, palm sweating, he opened the door…
And found a mirror.
His reflection stared back at him, auburn-haired, red-eyed, caramel-skinned, and antlered. The magnolias in his antlers trembled, more petals falling to the ground as the weight of the realization settled upon him. For a few moments, he froze, eyes wide with shock and wonder. One slim hand came up, fingertips pressing into the cold reflective surface. His throat went completely dry, breath stuttering in his lungs.
He-
He was-
Lucifer’s true love-
It was him.
Blush pink magnolias burst forth along his antlers, unfurling in a riot of vibrant color. The vines became green once more, twisting and curling with renewed energy, blooming with passion and life. Golden light danced along the delicate powers, like a swarm of fireflies finally awakening to dance across the skies at last.
Lucifer stepped up behind him, grin dazzling, starlight glittering in his twin blue pools. He placed a gentle hand on Alastor’s shoulder, his touch warm and reassuring. “I knew it,” he whispered, his breath warm against Alastor’s ear. “All this time… it was you.”
Alastor turned to face him, a cascade of blooming flowers and shimmering golden leaves adorning his antlers, mingling with the vines. Each blossom seemed to sing with joy, magic gently humming all around them. “Me?”
Lucifer nodded, his eyes shining with a certainty that sent a swarm of butterflies fluttering in Alastor’s chest. “You’ve always been there for me, Alastor. Through every dream, every nightmare, every world, you’ve been with me. You protected my daughter and my kingdom even when I couldn’t. And…” His voice wavered, filling with warmth and deep, unyielding love.“You’ve made me want to wake up. To see tomorrow with you.”
Pressure welled up behind Alastor’s eye. A profound mix of relief, joy, and love flooded his being. He let out a shaky breath, the flowers and vines on his antlers glowing with a radiant light. His hands descended, slotting themselves at the dips just above Lucifer’s hips. He inhaled, savoring the crisp, cool scent of autumn winds and the heady fragrance of blooming magnolias.
“I love you, Lucifer. I’ve always loved you.”
Lucifer reached up and cupped Alastor’s face in his hands, touching their foreheads together. His king’s breath stilled, more tears spilling out as he wound his fingers through Alastor’s hair. “And I love you, Alastor. I can’t wait to wake up together from now on.” His grin widened, a touch of wickedness lighting up his features. “I’m tired of being tired.”
And then, Lucifer was kissing him, warm and tender, a perfect union of lips and longing and passion. And Alastor kissed him back, the flowers on his antlers glowing even brighter, petals falling all around them like soft rain. The vines twined gently around them as Lucifer rose on his toes and wrapped his arms around Alastor, the faerie responding in kind by lifting Lucifer up, pulling a gentle gasp and bubbling laughter from between their locked lips.
All around them, the dreamscape began to fade, castle walls dissolving like smoke caught in a stormy wind. The ground beneath their feet seemed to melt away, replaced by a swirling void. But Alastor didn’t pay it any mind; all he knew was the warmth of Lucifer’s body, the softness of his lips, the racing of his heart. They grounded Alastor like a lifeline amidst the chaos of the dissolving dream, each moment stretching into eternity.
Suddenly, Alastor opened his eyes, lips still locked with Lucifer’s. He choked, then pulled back, hands finding purchase on the silken sheets beneath him. He let out a small wheeze, panicking slightly as he looked around, realizing that dawn was just beginning to break outside. What… what had happened? Was that real? Was anything that had happened real? Had Alastor just been dreaming too? Long fingers raked through auburn locks as his mind raced, anxiety thrumming through his veins.
A noise from the pillows snapped Alastor from his thoughts. The faerie watched as for the first time in months, Lucifer began to stir, color flooding back into his cheeks. He inhaled sharply and groaned, the sound a low, musical note that gently radiated from his throat. Alastor’s breath stilled as he watched, mind racing, heart pounding.
Unable to help himself, Alastor let out a low, stuttering breath, one hand reaching over and taking Lucifer’s in a firm, yet gentle grip. He swallowed around the lump quickly forming in his throat.
“Good morning, Starlight.”
At the sound of his voice, Lucifer’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment, sky-blue met fiery red and they sat there, unmoving, barely able to breathe. Then, a beautiful, glorious, dazzling, living, breathing, perfect smile dawned on Lucifer’s face. His king reached out and pulled Alastor close, surrounding the faerie with the lovely scent of crisp apples, sharp cinnamon, and a fine autumn wind.
“Good morning, Bambi.”
It was the most beautiful sound Alastor had ever heard.
