Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Belphie’s been acting strange. Well, he’s always kind of weird - I’ve learnt that by now - but this is different.

Whenever I’m around him, it feels like he never quite stops watching me. It’s as if he’s just constantly waiting for me to slip up - and, when I do, no matter how lightly, he’s always darting in to correct things.

I can’t tell if he thinks I’m incapable, or if he’s just trying to be helpful. If it’s the former, I don’t know where he’s gotten the idea, because I’ve been handling things perfectly fine; if it’s the latter, well… I appreciate it, but I really don’t need him to be constantly hovering over me like this.

It’s getting so extreme that I can barely focus on my schoolwork half the time. Even if he isn’t literally breathing over my shoulder, and even if he still spends most of the lesson seemingly face-first on the desk, I can still feel him waiting for me to do something. It’s driving me kind of crazy, to be honest.

Part of me wants to just sit him down and ask him what his problem is, but— well, one, I’d feel mean doing so, and two, if his intentions really are benevolent, I don't want to suddenly put him off. It’s still fairly new for him to have gotten confident again, after all. I don’t want him to go back to that hyper-caution he’d been stuck in after I first got him out of the tower.

I do consider asking Beel, but given the way he and Belphie have been whispering with each other lately, I have a feeling he already knows, and doesn’t want to say. Which doesn’t leave me many options, but…

Knock, knock. “Hey, Lucifer?”

He looks up from his desk. I peer at him from the gap in the study office door, then ask a little nervously, “Are you busy right now?”

He raises an eyebrow (at least, I think he does - I can’t quite tell with such a small field of view), then exhales and sets down his pen. “...a little, but it can wait. Come in.”

I glance behind me, just to check that no one’s entered the library and might eavesdrop. Coast clear. I slip into the office.

“Is something wrong?” He asks as I perch on the arm of the sofa in front of the fire. “Are you having trouble with your schoolwork?”

“Uh, not really…” Well, I am, but that’s to do with what I’ve come to see him for, anyway. “It’s about Belphie. He’s been acting kind of weird…”

I give him a recount as best I can. A frown settles across his face as he listens; when I finish, he takes off his glasses and leans forward a little on the desk.

“I’ve been noticing a change as well,” He says slowly. “I thought he seemed worried about something. Has he been having issues with something? An argument with someone?”

I think for a while, then shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“I see.” He’s quiet for a moment. “My best guess is that he simply needs more time to adjust. But, while you’re here… there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask for your input on. It’s to do with Belphie as well.”

I tilt my head at him. It’s the least I can do, I guess… even though he’s not really told me anything helpful. “Yeah?”

Despite bringing it up in the first place, now Lucifer nowems to be deliberating whether or not to continue. Eventually, each word slow and cautious, he begins, “You and Beel found Lilith’s room a while ago, didn’t you?”

“Uh…” I can’t help but feel a vague sense of trepidation - even though Lucifer doesn’t seem to feel particularly strongly about it anymore.. “...right…”

“The others know about it now, too.” He pauses. “...but Belphie doesn’t. I’ve… been wondering if I should show him.”

…oh. Somehow I don’t think I’m qualified to consult on this. “Well, I… I dunno. I guess… uh… maybe you should ask Beel?”

Lucifer is silent for a moment. “Perhaps I should. But I don’t know if what he wants is what would be best for Belphie.”

He gazes blankly at the wall. Then he says abruptly, “I’m going to get rid of it. I have no need for it now - perhaps I shouldn’t have created it in the first place. But if I were to show Belphie… if he were to request to keep it…”

He sighs. “...it’s best if it doesn’t linger. It’d be simplest to go ahead and do it now. However…”

“Feels wrong to do it without telling him?” I prompt as he trails off.

“...yes.”

“Hm.” I take in a breath, kicking my feet idly as I think. “...so would you keep it if he asked?”

There’s a moment for which Lucifer looks as if he’s going to shake his head, but then he stops. “...I spent a lot of time trapped in that room. I don’t want Belphie to do the same thing now.”

He stares down at his desk for a moment, then shakes his head and runs a hand down his face. “I need to clear my head. I don’t know what’s gotten into me…”

I hop down from the sofa as he sets his forehead in his hand and heaves a sigh. When he looks up again, I’m staring up at him from the other side of the desk.

As he blinks at me in mild surprise, I shuffle a little closer, then ask, “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” He glances down at the cup sitting next to him. “...I need a drink.”

“Hey— no,” I interrupt as he goes to stand up, using the same voice I do on Hyde when he misbehaves. “Not a good idea.”

Lucifer raises an eyebrow at me. “...I assure you that I don’t plan on getting drunk.”

“Maybe not, but it’s still not going to make your head any clearer.” I look over at the cabinet he’d been moving towards. “...why do you have this much wine in your office, anyway?”

“Well. It isn’t all wine…”

I give him a look. He concedes quickly. “...I get a lot of gifts that I never finish. In fact, I’d wager that a majority of those bottles are older than you.”

That’s not really an achievement in the Devildom. Everything’s older than me down here. “Well, even if it’s old, the Demonus isn’t going to give you any better ideas.”

“Watch yourself,” He says flatly, though it lacks any force. He’s still listening to me, anyway - even if he isn’t happy about it. “...I suppose you’re right. I could always take Cerberus for a walk instead.”

“Cerberus?” I take a moment to process, then brighten. “Oh! Can I come?”

“That was the plan, yes.” He rearranges the papers he was working on, then stands up. “As long as you behave. Can you do that for me?”

Now he’s the one talking to me like I’m an unruly toddler. I pull a face, but nod anyway and follow him out of the study.

I spot Belphie lounging in the common room on our way past. He seems relaxed - more relaxed than he’s been around me in recent memory. As in, he’s actually sleeping, rather than lying there with his eyes closed and (presumably) listening for the sound of me slipping up.

Lucifer didn’t have much insight on what that was all about. I guess I shouldn’t have expected him to, but now that he’s confided in me, I have a feeling solving his problem might help with mine.

Except I don’t know what the right thing for Lucifer to do would be. It seems we’ve both forgone the most likely person to know the solutions to our dilemmas - Beel - and gone to each other instead. Which is kind of funny, but it doesn’t help at all…

He didn’t actually answer my question earlier - of whether or not he’d keep the room open if he was asked. I try to put myself in Belphie’s shoes. If I were him, would I want that? Would it make me feel better, or would it just give me another tombstone to mourn?

I feel like being too cautious about this would be unfair. We should really have more faith in Belphie - he’s made it clear enough that he wants to move forward. He wouldn’t have left the tower or come to school with me if he didn’t. And if we’re not going to ask Beel, we’d probably be best off just... talking to Belphie directly.

A lot easier said than done, though. Especially for Lucifer - I’m not sure how he’d start that conversation. By the way, Belphie, there’s a replica of our dead sister’s room in the house that I’ve kept hidden for forever, and would you like to have a look inside before I probably get rid of it?

Logically, I should at least go to Beel. But, the more I think about it… the less sure I become that the solution here will be at all simple. It’s clearly still lingering on Lucifer’s mind even while we’re out, and while he doesn’t say anything - just smiles and plays along with my attempts to talk as normal - I can still feel it. I think his own uncertainty is getting to me, too, because by the time we get home, I’m even more muddled about the situation than I was before.

Later that night, I catch Beel alone in the kitchen. He makes a noise of acknowledgement and slides me a sweet across the table. I catch it and try to bring it up - but the words dry up in my mouth as soon as he turns to look at me.

He tilts his head at me, lowering his sandwich with a small frown. “...is something wrong?”

“Yeah,” I say automatically. He doesn’t seem convinced. “Everything’s normal, right?”

Beel looks a little bemused. He nods slowly.

“Great,” I say, and quickly shift the conversation onto something else.

I’m not sure what’s gone wrong here. Just before, I’d been cautious, yeah - but not nearly as afraid of speaking up as I’ve suddenly become. What happened?

That room's never been anything especially important to me. I’ve just been cautious of it because of what it did to Beel when we first found it - the way it had turned him from his placid affability to a distant mourning, the way it had ripped memories from the roots and brought them to the surface in an instant.

It had the same effect on the others when they found it. Mammon had snapped - gone after Lucifer in a way he’s never dared to before - and Asmo and Levi had just stared, pale and shaken. Satan had been lost, glancing around at his brothers for an answer, but they were all too stricken to find one.

And then there had been Belphie. Brought by the shouting, standing there with a bemused smile as all dulled to an aghast hush - clueless as to what lay behind the tapestry. If it hadn’t fallen back in front of the door, if he’d seen inside then… just what might have happened? What could happen if we show him now?

That’s just it, I think. Everything has always gone wrong whenever I’ve stepped into that room - intruded on it in the same way I’d encroached on Belphie’s grief back in the Dreamscape. I’d even been punished the first time; I’d lost my hand nearly as soon as I left. And the second… well, it came in a much more roundabout way, but I’d been punished then as well. Is it too much to feel like I’m being warned?

…so it really isn’t that strange that Lucifer chose to ask me and not any of his brothers. When Beel had seized him, as if to throw him to the ground, he’d just… let him. The discovery of that room could have lost him his brothers if things had just gone a little more awry.

We’re both overthinking the hell out of this. That’s something both of us are good at. I have a feeling that we’ll only dig ourselves deeper if we try to debate with each other about this any longer - without any other input, at least. Maybe once I’ve sorted myself out I’ll have a better answer for him, but as it is… we’re just going to go in circles.

Which is why I go to find Mammon. He might not know the answers - and I’m not doing this to get any from him - but he usually knows how to make my head stop spinning like this. I think that’s what I need most of all right now.

It’s kind of late when I finally force myself out of my indecisive stupor to do it, but he’s basically never asleep at this time anyway. Sure enough, his lights are on, and I can hear him bustling about inside.

I pause in front of the door and lift my hand to knock, then hesitate. Maybe I should just sleep on it. He’s definitely going to notice something’s up, but I don’t know how I’m meant to explain all this to him.

Before I can lose my nerve and leave, though, I hear footsteps approaching the door - a moment later, Mammon yanks it open and grins down at me. “Thought I heard ya! Did you need somethin’?”

“Uh—” It takes me a moment to gather my wits. I hadn’t been expecting the door to open, and now all my words are jumbled up. “—no, I’m just… can I stay with you for a bit?”

His eyebrows lift a little, but he nods quickly. “Sure thing. C’mon, just watch your feet.”

I follow him inside, picking my way carefully around the various bits of junk scattered over the floor. “What’re you doing?”

“Lookin’ for something,” Mammon says, going back to the giant box in the middle of the room and sticking his upper torso into it. “See— like, forever ago, I got this special deck of cards, right? I thought I’d dig ‘em up, but I can’t find the bleedin’ things…”

“Special how?”

“They had this super famous artist doin’ the designs,” He says, clattering about. “With a bunch of super obscure monsters n’ stuff, y’know? Super cool lookin’. They don’t sell them anymore, I don’t reckon… least, not the first edition.”

I lean over and attempt to squint at what he’s doing. The box is such a jumble of things I barely tell where his hands are. “...are you sure they’re in there?”

“Gotta be, right? I’ve already checked everywhere else.” He gestures over at his wardrobe. There are even more boxes clumsily shoved into the gap beneath his clothes, all of which look to have been very hurriedly re-packed.

There’s a beady-eyed toy staring at me from one of them. I edge out of its line of vision, then ask, “What do you want them for?”

“Eh… just thought it'd be neat to look at ‘em again.” He throws something over his shoulder, then groans loudly and extracts himself from the box, sitting back on his haunches. “Anyway, monsters - up your alley, right? Thought you’d like havin’ a look.”

I do, now that he’s brought it up. I approach the box as well. “...how much’ve you got in there?”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know,” He says with a grimace. “Some of this stuff’s gotta be a good few thousand years old. Dunno how the box’s pulled through the whole time…”

He watches me go up on tiptoe and peer inside, then reaches over and tugs me back down to me feet. “...hey, hey, don’t go stickin’ your hands in there, alright? Don’t know if there’s gonna be anythin’ sharp.”

He rises to his feet with a huff and stretches. “I’ll look again later. Ought to have a regular deck layin’ about… how about a game?”

“Sure.” It’ll keep me occupied, at least. Mammon waves me over to his sofa and chucks me a blanket, then swipes an old card pack from the table and starts shuffling.

I just watch him quietly. Normally I’d have brought something up by now, or at least cracked a joke, but nothing comes to mind. I really wish it would, though, because Mammon’s clearly feeling the silence.

At first, he doesn’t say anything. Then, as the cards seem to fly between his hands with a mind of their own, his eyes flicker up to me. “You okay, kid?”

I clear my throat. “...yeah.”

“Yeah?” Mammon repeats, raising an eyebrow. There’s silence for a moment, save for the rustling of the cards. “...not lyin’ to me, are ya?”

He’s not even looking at me anymore, but I can feel his gaze all the same. I tap at my knees anxiously, then admit, “A little bit.”

The cards stop moving. Mammon is quiet for a while, then sighs and sets them aside, and moves over to sit next to me. I hurriedly fix my eyes on my lap.

“C’mon, what’s wrong?” He asks. “S’ not gonna make you feel any better if ya keep it all inside.”

“I know, it’s just…” I try to stop my leg from bouncing. It doesn’t work. “...I don’t know. I’m confused.”

“About what?” He prompts softly.

“Lucifer asked me to help him with something.” My hand starts tapping again. “He wants to close Lilith’s room, but… he doesn’t know whether or not to show Belphie first. And I don’t know what he’s supposed to do.”

I stop, but that’s not nearly all I want to say. Mammon seems to be able to tell - he doesn’t say anything else, just waits patiently.

“Belphie’s been acting weird as well,” I say at last. “I don’t know if… it’d be okay to show him. If something happens… that’s where everything went wrong last time, too. I just… can’t figure it out. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Mammon listens quietly. When I finish, he doesn’t reply immediately - just looks at me for a moment, then pulls me into a rough hug.

It does make me feel better. I rest my head on his shoulder, close my eyes, and try to relax.

I hear him tut to himself. “...honestly, that Lucifer… I’m gonna have to give him a real earful next time I see him. Dunno why he thought puttin’ this on you would be a good idea.”

I should probably pull back now, I think, then don’t.

Mammon shifts backwards, pulling me with him. After a moment, he murmurs, “I’d tell ya not to worry about it, but I know you're gonna anyway. You’re real stubborn like that.”

“Sorry,” I mumble into his jacket.

“Hey, I’m not criticisin’. That’s why we love ya.” He chuckles to himself, then subsides into silence for a moment again. “...I dunno what the right thing to do is, either. But - the way I see it - it doesn’t have to be too complicated, y’know?

“Belphie’s a tough demon. You’ve gotta be, to make it through somethin’ like the fall… but he’s always gettin’ coddled, ‘cause he’s the baby. So it’s kinda our fault, but Belphie’s always underestimatin’ how strong he is. And then there’s Lucifer’s always thinkin’ he’s stronger than he is…”

He’s started rocking back and forth, like a gentler version of those swing boats at fairgrounds. I can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose, but it’s starting to make me kind of drowsy.

He sighs. “...you get me, right? Those two are all kinds of mixed up. Honestly, we’ve been tryin’ to get ‘em untangled for years…”

He pauses. Then he clears his throat and amends, “Well, we’ve thought they oughta, anyway. But, seriously - it’s not your fault ya don’t know what to do, ‘cause we’ve never figured it out, either. There’s a lot we never figured out. I don’t reckon Lucifer even expects ya to know… he probably just needed someone to tell.”

“But I still feel like there’s something I can do,” I mumble quietly. He stifles a chuckle.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean ya have to.” He clicks his tongue. “Even though you’re definitely gonna try doin’ it anyway. Honestly… what’re we gonna do with ya, huh?”

He ruffles my hair again, more aggressively this time. “Here’s the plan, yeah? Right now, you get a good night’s sleep. And, tomorrow, I’ll take ya to Diavolo’s place, and you can ask Barbatos for help.”

There’s a pause. I try to see where he’s coming from, but I can’t quite figure out which way the logic’s gone. “...Barbatos? Why him?”

“Well, here’s what I’m thinkin’...” He starts rocking again, as if he’s actively trying to get me to drop off before he can finish talking. “...the rest of us… we said goodbye a long time ago. We don’t have a great idea of what’s goin’ on in Belphie’s head. If you ask Diavolo - well, Lucifer’s his best friend, so he’s just gonna think about what’s best for him. Solomon and Luke don’t know anythin’ about this whole thing, and Simeon— well, chances are he’ll accidentally think of it like we’re still angels.

“See what I’m saying? You need help from someone who knows what they’re doin’ and ain’t gonna skew it. Anyway— if there’s anyone who knows about gettin’ unstuck from the past, it’ll be Barbatos.”

It takes me a moment to process, but… I think I understand what he’s saying now. I mull it over in silence for a while, then mumble a little blearily, “That’s really clever.”

Mammon pauses. Then he laughs - a little louder than is natural - and squeezes me. “You alright with that, then?”

I nod into his jacket. He laughs again and adjusts himself, sliding down the back of the sofa so that we’re less upright. There’s a rustle as he loosens an arm and waves it - the lights dim.

“...reckon you can get started on step one for me, then?” He asks quietly, replacing his arm and giving me a nudge. “Ain’t the comfiest here, but I don’t wanna move ya right now.”

I make an indistinct noise. My eyes must’ve closed at some point, because… well, now they’re closed.

“That’s a yes if I ever heard one,” He jokes, then lowers his voice even more - now all the way down to a quiet, barely-there rumble. “...listen. Sometimes… I really don’t know what’s goin’ through the little head of yours. But I bet it’s buzzin’ in there. You always look like you’ve got somethin’ real important to think about.

“We’re always askin’ you for help, now that I think about it. But, see… I know we’re pretty useless when it comes to this stuff, but we’re learning. We know how to figure this stuff out on our own, and we know how to take care of ya now, too. So you don’t need to run on empty for us, y’know?

“I’m not telling ya to stop tryin' to help. I mean, we all know that’s a losing battle. So all I’m tellin’ ya is that, next time somethin’ like this happens… if you feel like ya might crash, if you’re havin’ trouble coming up with something… just come here, and I’ll stay with ya as long as you need. Alright?”

He goes quiet for a moment. “...I’m not talkin’ to myself now, am I?”

I can’t summon the energy to reply verbally, so instead I just tighten my grip on his jacket for a moment. He seems to get the message.

“That’s good,” He says softly, mostly to himself. “Keeping you up, aren’t I? Real hypocritical of me, huh…”

He shifts, then yawns and kicks his feet up. “...I’ll shut up now. Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

He goes silent, and it doesn’t take long for his breaths to start evening out. I crack my eyes open for a moment to take in the dark room around us, then sigh quietly and shut them again.

This is the most at ease I’ve felt going to sleep in a while. It’s not like I’ve had a particular difficulty, but I’ve been feeling the need to be especially deliberate about it - about lying down, pulling up the blanket, and keeping my eyes shut.

It was like this when I fell asleep on Lucifer at the campfire, too. There’s something anchoring about it that feels familiar. The memory is vague and distant, but it reminds of how I’d climb into Dad’s bed when I was little - when it was late enough at night that I knew he’d be there.

I was never really scared of the dark; it always meant he’d home. If someone banged on the door during the day, all I could do was hide and wait for them to go away - but when I had bad dreams, I knew where to find him, and I knew there’d be room for me.

It’s been a long while since I last did it, though. I’d kind of forgotten how it felt - to be held like this.

I expect to have been relocated to my room by the time I wake up, but by the time footsteps down the hallway herald the morning, I find that Mammon’s barely moved at all. I can’t tell whether or not he’s even comfortable like this, curled up as if acting like a giant cradle, but he seems at peace.

At least, I think he is. He’s using my head as a pillow, so I can’t see his face.

“Mammon,” I whisper. “I think it’s time to get up.”

He doesn’t move, so I poke him in the side. The tempo of his snoring doesn’t stall even a little bit.

Would it be overkill to use a pact to call for help? I wonder vaguely. …yeah, probably. I haven’t even tried any force yet. Maybe I should just bite him or something.

Luckily it doesn’t have to come to that. It takes a good few minutes of saying his name with increasing volume, but eventually Mammon stirs. It takes him a good five minutes to get his bearings again, but after that, he seems fine.

He keeps his promise from last night, too. Once we’ve both had time to freshen up (and I’ve eaten the muffin Asmo very insistently presses into my hand as soon as we step into the kitchen), he pulls his boots on and asks if I’m ready to set off for the castle.

I’ve been staying behind after school to chat with Diavolo more frequently as of late, so the others don’t seem to see anything out of the ordinary with that. Lucifer does give me a slightly cautious look over his mug of coffee, but he seems to have enough faith in me not to challenge it. (That, or Mammon’s pointed look around at everyone has deterred any questions.)

Even if I have been hanging out with him more, though, it’s always been at school. Something about showing up at his castle unannounced - not even to speak to him, but to his butler - feels pretty rude.

Clearly Mammon doesn’t have the same qualms, because he walks straight up and starts banging on the bars of the front gate. It doesn’t take long for a very small and very irritated little blob of darkness to come zooming out to greet him.

“What’s with the racket?” the Little D asks grumpily, fluttering down to land on top of the gate. “Keep it down.”

“Huh, what’s with the attitude?” Mammon steps back and sets his hands on his hips. “No manners! Ain’t the royal staff got more respect?”

“Respect for the boss, sure,” shoots back the Little D testily. “And for the common people.”

Mammon gestures wordlessly down at himself. The Little D peers down at him in mild disdain. “You don’t count. Technically you’re a lord.”

“Uh, excuse me,” I venture as Mammon shoots it a dark glare over his sunglasses. “I’d like to talk to—”

“Hold on,” The Little D interrupts with a narrowing of its little fluorescent eyes. “You got an appointment for that?”

“Oh, um…”

“Stand down, 81.” I turn to see Barbatos coming down the path towards us. “This guest has special clearance. Open the gate - and might I remind you of the need to treat all visitors to the castle with the appropriate manners?”

No. 81 pauses for a moment, then makes a begrudging sound of assent and does as he says. Barbatos gestures for us to step through; as soon as we do, the Little D closes the gate again, then flutters grumpily back off to the castle.

“Welcome,” says Barbatos with a warm smile. “I’m afraid the Young Master isn’t home at the moment, but I’m happy to offer refreshments if you’d like to wait for his return.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” I say hurriedly as Mammon gives me an encouraging nudge. “I… uh, I wanted to talk to you.”

“...to me?” Barbatos looks a little bewildered - but then the expression melts into something more knowing, and he nods. “Yes, that can be arranged. Would you like to come in now, then?”

“I can come pick ya up later,” Mammon suggests, ducking down to talk to me in an undertone. “Or d’you need me to stay?”

I glance up at Barbatos, then I shake my head. “It’s alright. I’ll text when we’re done.”

“Good kid.” He ruffles my hair and grins. “Don’t overthink it, alright? It’ll be fine.”

As he turns and sets back off down the path, Barbatos gestures for me to follow him with a smile. I send Mammon one final wave, then trail after him up to the castle.

“We do have someone else in the castle at the moment,” He says as he opens the main door with a wave, then steps back and indicates for me to go in first. “I’ll just have to let him know about the change of plans.”

“Oh, are you busy? I can wait…”

“Ah, that won’t be necessary.” He smiles. “We don’t have much left to say. I’m hardly entertaining any important guests.”

“I’m absolutely shattered that you’d say that,” drawls someone familiar, emerging from around the corner we’re approaching. “And here I thought we were reminiscing, Barb.”

“Mephisto,” greets Barbatos with some degree of resignation. “I thought I told you to wait.”

“You know I hate sitting still,” Mephisto replies, then grins at me. “Heya, moppet! Something got you in a funk?”

I blink at him. Surely he hasn’t seen through me that quickly?

“You’ve got that look on your face,” He says knowingly. “Really, you came to Barbatos? Lemme tell you - warm and nurturing he is not. Won’t even hold you if you ask. And believe me, I’ve—”

“That’s quite enough,” Barbatos says briskly. “If you could see yourself out. IK - this way, please.”

Rather predictably, Mephisto does not listen to him. Instead - with a loud tut - he starts following us as well. Barbatos clicks his tongue and shakes his head in apparent disapproval, but doesn’t try to stop him. I don’t, either - feeling, for some odd reason, that it makes sense for him to stay.

We take a route that’s unfamiliar, but too specific to not be deliberate. On the way, we pass something I recognise - the grandfather clock that I watched Barbatos dust a while ago. Mephisto’s footsteps falter as soon as he sees it, and he seems unable to quite look away until we’ve rounded the corner again.

Oddly, we end up in the portrait hall. I say odd because I know the way there from the ballroom, which is directly ahead of the entrance hall; why Barbatos chose this much longer route to it is beyond me.

Barbatos ushers me inside. For a moment I think he’s taken me to Helene - but, looking around, I don’t see any blonde hair among the endless shadowy-faced paintings plastering the walls.

“I believe I might have an idea of your conundrum,” Barbatos says with a smile, and retrieves a set of chairs from seemingly nowhere. “Let us talk about it over tea.”

I crane my neck to look up at the high-vaulted ceiling, wondering why he’s opted for this room in particular. When I look down, Barbatos has conjured up a table complete with a tea set out of nowhere. “Wait— how’d…?”

“Show-off.” Mephisto sits down with a languid stretch - I notice that, despite his apparent disapproval of his presence, Barbatos has included a chair for him. “Is this what you were busy prepping for earlier? So you weren’t just looking to ignore me, after all…”

“I had a feeling it might be necessary,” Barbatos replies with an incline of his head. “Do sit down, IK. Now, would you prefer something more flowery, or something more herbal?”

“Uh… herbal?” I don’t know enough about tea to say, but ‘flowery’ makes me think of something sweet. “What’s this…”

“There’s no need to be nervous, dear.” He reassures, then immediately seems to regret doing so. With a soft clearing of his throat, he moves on quickly. (Mephisto snickers.) “Relax. You’ll find it easier to speak if you do.”

“Hard to do that with all these old geezers leering down at us,” Mephisto comments, leaning back in his chair and looking around. “Look at all those eyes.”

“You are not helping,” Barbatos deadpans, then turns to me again as he begins to pour the tea. “They are not awake. Think of them as mushrooms. They can’t hear us.”

Somehow that helps even less. I thank him quietly as he slides a teacup over to me, watching the steam swirl upwards as he attends to the two remaining cups. This is all becoming rapidly more unnerving than I thought it would be. Is it too early to call Mammon back now?

“I thought I might tell you a story first,” Barbatos says at last once everyone’s got their drinks. His voice echoes a little in this hall; you’d think that’d make it creepy, but it’s oddly soothing. “So as not to crowd you with questions. How does that sound?”

I tilt my head at him, swishing my tea idly around the cup. It smells nice - similar to the sort that Dad brews whenever either of us is in a panic. “...alright.”

Mephisto chuckles to himself and sets his own cup back on the saucer, then leans back, hands steepled and eyes glinting like an expectant boss. Barbatos’s eyes flicker towards him, and he smiles a little. Then he begins.

“Chronodae have historically served the ruling royals of the Devildom,” He says, gesturing to the paintings around us. “It has been this way since the first king established it. We would be called upon to use our abilities to peek into the future or remind them of the past… and, of course, our ability to rearrange time was an invaluable instrument of their reigns.

“There is no way of knowing how much of the Devildom’s past was manufactured. It was an unruly landscape then, even more so for those of us coming to terms with having masters for the first time. Younger chronodae were told that our eyes would be opened to far grander, brighter potentials - the elder of us were promised something fresh, something exciting after a lifetime spent knowing exactly what would come next.

“This was all before our time, of course.”

Mephisto nods, playing lazily with a lock of his hair. “Long, long before we existed. But our story’s more of a collective thing, you know?”

I don’t, but I don’t think he expects me to. I lean forward. I can feel my fingers beginning to burn on the cup I’m still holding, but it’s dull enough to ignore.

Barbatos continues, “The issue with playing with time in this way is that time itself doesn’t like being played with. It is not a toy, but an irreplaceable, immovable, and intrinsic part of how existence operates. We had placed ourselves under servitude, expecting that we were infallible - how could we not be, with the ability to rewind each passing moment without a second’s thought?

“But this mindless manipulation of time wasn’t to be without consequence. Under the orders of our masters, we were offending time - and time, not knowing enemy from weapon, was fighting back.”

“We probably should’ve started calling it quits then,” Mephisto chimes. “But demons have always been too cocky for its own good. We thought it’d be fine in the end… look where that got us.”

Barbatos’s serene expression cracks for a moment. He sighs. “Would you rather be telling the story?”

“Nah, I can’t talk as pretty as you.” Mephisto grins at him. “Go on, tell about the next bit.”

Barbatos gives him a look, then shakes his head and continues.

“Demons as a race are long living creatures, so of course we cannot remember every last hour of our waking lives. Depending on what we find important, what makes an impression, we might go years without making many solid memories. But, as the generations went on, the chronodae found that we were remembering everything.

“We would register every passing second and then strike it firmly into our memory - and despite everything, we could not forget it. Every experience, every emotion - it stung as if new, and it never stopped. We called this the singularity syndrome.

“It crept in slowly - more a disease than an execution. But it was what each and every one of us was doomed to one day encounter, no matter how long we might think ourselves the exception.

“Quite understandably, it drove a number of us mad. For a time, many of us were born mad from the beginning… and then none of us were ever born again. Our control began to dwindle. We were all connected, at the very simplest level, with time - and so it affected us all when it sought to punish us.

“And this is where Sonno comes in.”

Mephisto boos loudly. Barbatos shoots him another look, but he’s smiling despite himself.

“Sonno… was revolutionary, in a way. Of course, many of us before him had rebelled, refused to do as the rulers told them. And, in the long lineage of the Devildom’s rulers, there were plenty that didn’t seek to use our powers at all, and others that decided to stop when we pled with them. There have been plenty of good rulers.

“The issue is - no matter how many hands dust the same glass, all it takes is a single finger to dirty it. The ravaging of time was enough to leave ever-lasting marks; each interference tore the wound deeper. But it was simply how things were now. We acknowledged it, and then we tried to move on. Complacency with routine has always been one of demonkind’s fatal flaws.

“Sonno, however, persisted. At the time, he was among those rare few who could maintain control over his powers - which I suppose only convinced him further that he would make a suitable ruler. Chronodae before him wanted to rebel, but sorely lacked the raw strength to do so… I suppose this is what set him apart from the rest of us.

“He is a demon capable of a great many things, but he’s always had a preference for dreams - for placing memory hand-in-hand with fear, and weaponising them. That is why he chose to use these things against you, and it is also why he desisted remarkably quickly when you resisted. The fact that you could defy his most powerful tool scared him, I imagine.”

He pauses. I mull over his words - and then something clicks. The route that he decided to take here makes more sense now.

Barbatos is watching me, as if waiting for something. I set my cup down, feeling a little guilty about having yet to touch its contents, then start, “So if the chronodae had to remember everything… then - the clock, the one that makes you forget…”

“Clever girl.” Barbatos inclines his head. “Yes. Sonno created it. When there were memories we needed to but couldn’t forget, we used it to erase them. His Majesty himself used it on occasion.”

“Didn’t he know how to control his powers?”

Mephisto shrugs. “Well, even if he wasn’t forced to remember… that doesn’t mean he didn’t still have things he’d rather forget.”

There’s a short silence. I hesitate, then ask, “Was this still before you?”

“Well. Not quite.” Barbatos sighs; his eyes lower, as if the memory shames him. “Mephisto and I were both young when we arrived. We answered his summons because we’d both heard of and admired him - and, when we arrived, we found that we were the only ones to do so. But he was pleased, and so invited us to stay. As you know, I never left.”

I glance at Mephisto, who simply shrugs, expressionless. “Did you know each other then?”

“Yeah. But you already know that Barbatos here had to wait on the prince,” Mephisto says with his usual cheerfulness, but without the accompanying smile. “Me? I took orders directly from the king. We were co-workers more than anything. Didn’t see much of each other.”

“To say that would be to read the nature of things in bad faith,” Barbatos reproaches, but nods anyway. “...I must confess that I fell into complacency quickly. Back then, the Young Master was far from the demon he is today. I was distracted easily by the whimsies that came with acting as his steward.”

“Which is to say that you had all the fun,” concludes Mephisto, expression darkening. “Keeping the king happy was a much bigger task than it was for the prince. We both had our duties to Sonno, but when it came to his dirty work… I was his favourite.”

“He favoured you for both his blessings and his punishments,” Barbatos agrees quietly. “The Young Master was much more lenient.”

They look at each other for a moment. Then Mephisto turns away again, voice light once more. “Well, it’s a long way in the past now. Can’t say I count among the ranks of the chronodae anymore, anyway. I haven’t heard old Time’s voice in a long while - and, if I ever do, it’ll be too soon.”

“We have always been bound to serve, you see,” Barbatos tells me, an almost tranquil look to his face. “Whether it be to a monarch or a moment. Sonno forgot this easily in his power, and when it caught up with him…”

“Singularity syndrome,” Mephisto murmurs. “We think that’s why he decided to go into hibernation. He started remembering too much.”

The talking stops; the portrait hall fills instead with the volume of the insurmountable gazes upon us. I look around at each face, wondering if I’ll be able to spot the one king I recognise among their ranks. But each shadowy figure seems to blend into the next; quite suddenly, they all look the same.

I look back down at the table and take a sip of my tea. It’s still a little too hot, so I quickly put the cup down.

The scalding of the water seems to smack a little sense into me. Barbatos’s story - as rhythmic and hypnotically as he told it - seemed to have lulled me into an odd trance there. I blink down into my back, then look back up at him with a small frown.

Barbatos looks back at me for a moment, then chuckles. “You’re wondering what any of this has to do with what you came here for.”

“Uh…” I try not to look guilty. “...no…?”

“You are many things, dear, but you are not a good liar.” Barbatos’s teacup is empty. He puts it down with a clink and leans forward on the table, hands folded neatly in front of him. “Well, the long and short of it is this - I believe that you may be suffering from the singularity syndrome yourself.”

Silence.

I stare at him, perplexed, then turn to Mephisto for help. I’m not a chronodae, so why would this affect me?

Mephisto, meanwhile, is busy laughing to himself. “Hell of a long-winded way to tell someone that.”

“Would the gravity of the situation have been apparent without the context?”

“You just love your big long words, don’t you?” Mephisto shakes his head and gives me a conspiratorial look. “Don’t be fooled, moppet. He never used to talk like this before. You might think he’s all refined now, but back then he was dumb as rocks - probably only knew about a hundred words, max.”

“Choosing not to speak and being unable to find the words to do so are two separate issues, Mephisto,” Barbatos says in a long-suffering fashion.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I interrupt before any extended banter can start happening, “Me? Singularity syndrome? That’s not… possible, is it? I’m not a chronodae.”

“I believe you’ll find it is quite possible, in fact. And, as seems to be the fashion these days, it is all my fault.” Barbatos sends a warning glance Mephisto’s way, then continues pointedly, “Seeing as someone seems to feel I am overly verbose, perhaps he’d like to explain it instead.”

“Oh, shall I?” Mephisto sighs. “Well, it’s still gonna be boring. Try not to fall asleep, moppet.”

I eye them both warily. Something about the way their thoughts seem to be in sync, the fact that they both seem to know exactly what’s going on - it’s unnerving. Is it just them, or is this what it’s like to be in the presence of two chronodae at once? What would it feel like if Professor Magdalene was in the mix…?

“So, like Barb said, it’s all his fault,” Mephisto says briskly. “He broke a bunch of laws, did some super clumsy time-soldering - you know this bit, it all happened to you. But remember what he said earlier? Time isn’t great at telling apart a blade from the person holding it, and it gets even worse with this identification stuff when someone’s standing next to the blade-holder.”

“Right…”

“Basically, Barbatos got away from all his workshopping scot-free, and Time’s punishing you instead,” He summarises. “And the punishment? Singularity syndrome.”

“It is a mild case, as far as I can tell,” Barbatos adds as I begin to open my mouth, feeling almost as if I’m being pranked. “You’re wondering how we know.”

I wish he’d stop doing that - reading all my questions off my face. Though I guess it’s kind of my fault for having such a readable one. I nod anyway.

“When I pulled you out of the Dreamscape, I realised that you remembered the empty space,” He explains - which doesn’t help at all. “Ah - let me finish. Between your death and the moment of your revival was a time vacuum through which I had to pull you. We spoke to each other then, but you shouldn’t have been able to remember it.”

“Put it this way,” Mephisto adds. “No one’s supposed to be able to remember their own death. That’s an anomaly in and of itself. But you do.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I mutter a little reproachfully. “Didn’t need a reminder.”

“I believe there has been a miscommunication here.” Barbatos leans forward. “This isn’t something you could go to a healer to have diagnosed. There is no set list of symptoms - it isn’t exclusive to us, either.

“Think of it this way - the universe runs chronologically. When you are disconnected from this running thread, no matter how briefly, something will have changed when you reconnect. The feeling of displacement in the aftermath was something quite unquantifiable. But that feeling - the places unwanted memories carve in your mind, the solitude of the separation, the inexplicable grief… that is what the chronodae call the singularity syndrome.”

This is all way more than I signed up for. It sounded like a good idea when Mammon brought it up…

“I’m afraid that I have no direct way to cure you of the malady.” Barbatos reaches across the table, making the same gesture that he did when the euphonid bit me. “But, if it comforts you - now that you are aware, perhaps it will make the obstacle easier to overcome.”

I stare hard at his gloved palms, then slowly place my hands on top. He closes his fingers over them in a loose sort of cage. This is starting to feel like an especially strange seance.

“Know that it is not your fault,” Barbatos says softly. “You’ve done remarkably well, been exceptionally brave - strode ahead of something insurmountable. It is not your fault that something else has followed you out of the ordeal, and it is not your fault that you are still afraid.”

Something inexplicable floods through my entire body, and I can’t do anything but lower my head. I haven’t even said a thing about the reason I came here in the first place, so there’s no way either of these two knows - but somehow they’ve both seen right through me already.

“It’s not fair,” I mutter bitterly. “I thought I was doing a good job. Why can’t I… why can’t I just be normal?”

“When it comes to this, there are no such things as abnormal and normal.” Barbatos squeezes my hands. “There is only you. That is the only constant you can count on.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

He smiles a little. “Do what you think is right, and forgive yourself even when it does not go smoothly. Do not scold yourself for being weighed down - just keep moving forward. And remember that you are always permitted to stop and rest.”

“Here’s the fun bit about singularity syndrome,” Mephisto chimes. “In a way, it’s an undoing of the shackles. Now you know that your actions are your own - that Time isn’t puppeting your hands. After all, you survived being away from it, didn’t you?”

“Since Sonno went into slumber, the chronodae have been left mostly to our devices,” Barbatos says quietly. “Those of us who never answered his summons are still in hiding. Magdalene, as you know, came to the R.A.D. - but she is by far an exception. We are a scattered species with little interest in finding each other again. However…”

I frown at him. “However?”

“We are all connected,” He tells me. “We’ve always felt it when we lose someone. But the singularity does not spell the end. Sometimes we learn to live with it. With both tools such as the clock, and with friends such as the many you have.”

“He’s trying to tell you that it gets better,” Mephisto says with a chuckle. “This is nothing for you, moppet! I tell you, if Time had a body, you’d have it kicked to the curb, no problem. But think of Alecto - even she loses fights sometimes. And what does she do? Beats the next guy up even harder.”

“This is why I do the talking,” Barbatos sighs, but smiles when I laugh. “But he is right. The best remedy for the singularity syndrome is to handle it with care - to have patience, to have humanity. I don’t believe I know anyone better equipped - if only you’d learn to direct it to yourself.”

He lets go of my hands and pulls back. His expression is so warm that I almost forget how much cooler my own hands suddenly are.

“There’s no need to fret over it.” He pours me a fresh cup of tea. I hadn’t realised I’d finished the last one. “You have plenty of friends willing to guide you through. So take a breath and relax. You have plenty of time to find the answers you seek.”

It’s a long while before either he or Mephisto says anything else. I run their words on loop through my head, blindly nodding when Barbatos offers to fetch a snack.

As he leaves, I look up and around the portrait hall again. I wonder how all these old rulers would feel, to know that the sorts of demons who were once their servants were here - enjoying tea beneath their endless faces. Some of them seem to leer even now… but there are those who look benign, too. I wonder how much of their opinions would change if they knew a lowly human was here, too.

Then I think about it a little harder and find that I don’t care. Barbatos comes back with a little platter of pastries; the sharp sweetness of the icing seems to cut through everything else. When Mephisto throws a chocolate into the air and attempts to catch it in his mouth, but only succeeds in hitting himself in the eye, suddenly it’s the funniest thing in the world.

As strange and muddled as Barbatos’s story made me feel, everything feels clearer now. Forget all those kings and queens. They’re long gone, their likenesses trapped up there in those paintings, and I’m here having fun with my friends.

Forget time, too. Forget all the fretting. I know who’ll be there when I get home. I know who to go to when I need them.

It was in the way Lucifer made me swap places with him on the path when we passed a thorned bush, the way Beel passed me one of his sweets without even thinking about it - the way Mammon promised I could stay, and kept that promise all through the night. This isn’t something that’s going to change any time soon.

If this family had ever been that fickle, they wouldn’t have reached out to pull me from Sonno’s nightmare as fiercely as they did. I must have known that.

Honestly, I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to remember. Though I suppose it’s fitting that it took a chronodae to jog my memory.

—

Luckily for me, I don’t get any extended questions about my day trip, even though I ended up staying out for a good while longer than I’d intended to. (After the tea had been drunk, we stayed around talking for so long that Diavolo got home - and it seemed rude not to at least play a few games with him before leaving. As it turns out, ‘a few games’ can quickly turn into nearly four hours worth of things like chasing a very tall demon around a ballroom while playing duck-duck-goose.)

At first I think that means I’m off the hook, and move onto contemplating my next step - this time with much lighter shoulders than before. Unfortunately, it turns out someone did get suspicious, and they were just biding their time to say something about it.

“Why did you need to go to the castle?” Belphie asks as soon as I step out of my room.

I pause in front of the door and give him a look. Was he just waiting for me to come out? “...a hello would be nice.”

“Hi. Why did you need to go to the castle?”

“I needed to talk to Barbatos about something.”

“For the whole day?” He persists.

“We finished talking pretty quick,” I say with a shrug. “We were just hanging out after that. Where’s Lucifer?”

He looks at me searchingly for a moment, then finally relaxes. He scratches his nose. “Shopping. Beel cleaned out the kitchen again. We’re in the library if you wanna hang out.”

Seeing as the guy I need to speak to isn’t here, I just shrug and follow him. Beel’s chewing idly on a bookmark when we walk in - Belphie tells him off without much feeling and reminds him that he’s got a packet of biscuits in his pocket.

“What are you doing?” I ask as Belphie settles down and goes back to flicking through an unfamiliar hardback.

“Research and stuff,” Belphie says dispassionately. “Beel’s my moral support.”

Beel nods. I frown a little. Since when was Belphie the type to read non-fiction for fun? Since when was he the type to read for fun?

“I’m doing a puzzle,” Beel tells me, gesturing for me to join him by the table. “It’s meant to be a waterfall, I think.”

I peer down at his handiwork. So far, he’s gotten three corners, and what looks like half of a rock.

It’s a remarkably human-sized puzzle. Which is an odd sentence, but I don’t know how else to concisely describe the fact that the pieces are distinctly too small for Beel to comfortably pick out, but perfectly sized for me to do so. Progress goes a lot faster once we decide to split up the duties - Beel points out where the connecting pieces are, and I put them where they’re meant to do.

Belphie’s head keeps bobbing all the while - every now and then, it drops onto the pages of his book, and Beel swiftly elbows him in the arm to wake him up again. The weird thing - apart from Beel denying Belphie a nap, which he never does - is that Belphie doesn’t even complain.

When Beel and I are about halfway through the puzzle, the library’s usual occupant finally makes an appearance. Satan shuffles in with a steaming mug in one hand and a stack of paperbacks carefully balanced in the other, which he promptly sets about replacing on the shelves.

It’s only once he’s done that he thinks to put down the cup. Then he turns and finally seems to register that he has company.

“Oh, hello.” He leans over to look at the puzzle, giving my hair a ruffle in greeting as he does. He nods in approval. “That looks good. Have you considered organising the—”

He pauses. He’s looking over at Belphie now. “Wait a minute - why do you have that?”

“Huh?” Belphie lifts his head from his arms just in time to see Satan snatch the little hardback sitting by his leg. “Oh…”

Satan brandishes the book at him. It reflects the light from the fireplace just enough for me to read the embossed title. Unravelling the Oneiric. “I’ve been looking for this for ages! You’ve had it this whole time?!”

“Oh, yeah…” Belphie clears his throat. “I forgot you were still reading it.”

“Forgot? I’ve only been asking after it this entire time!” Satan stands up straight again, a deep frown on his face. He opens the book, then sighs loudly. “My bookmark’s still in here. You knew full well I was still in the middle of this.”

Belphie grins a little nervously. “...sorry.”

“Don’t be mad, Satan,” Beel says placatingly. “Belphie was researching really hard. He won’t even let himself sleep until he’s finished that spellopaedia.”

Satan looks down at the incredibly heavy-looking hardback that Belphie’s been painstakingly forcing himself through for the last half an hour. His expression mellows a little, but his frown doesn’t quite drop. “What are you even researching? This is a horrendously inefficient way of doing things, you know.”

“Look, it’s… working, sort of.” Belphie waves an arm, attempting to dismiss him. “You’ve got your book back, so leave me alone. I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m not convinced you do,” Satan says with a scoff, then shakes his head and turns to his usual armchair. “Well, suit yourself. I suppose we all learn best from our mistakes.”

He sits himself down and immediately sticks his nose in the book he’s just retrieved. He seems to have forgotten to put on the reading glasses I can see sticking out of his pocket.

Belphie, meanwhile, lets out a relieved sigh and drops his head on the pages of his spellopaedia. I shoot him a slightly worried look. “...are you okay, Belphie?”

“Huh? Yeah, right as rain or whatever…” He yawns. “I’m just gonna… take a break, I think…”

He’s barely finished his sentence by the time his eyes shut fully. This time, Beel doesn’t wake him up again.

He seems to notice the questioning look on my face, because then he ducks down to explain. “He asked me to keep him awake. But I think he probably needs a nap right now.”

Well, he’s not wrong. I turn back to the puzzle, and he does the same.

We work in silence for a while. Then Beel says suddenly, “Whatever’s wrong, you can tell me about it.”

My hand freezes above the piece he’s just pointed to. “...huh?”

“Something’s been off since you went on that walk with Lucifer.” He keeps his voice low. “You wouldn’t look me in the eye.”

“Oh. Uh…” I clear my throat awkwardly. “Well, it wasn’t the walk that did it…”

“You seemed happier when you got back from the castle. I was glad.” Beel reaches over and nudges me gently in the arm. “But I can tell you’re still thinking about something.”

I curl my fingers into a fist. I’m pretty much at peace with my decision, but I was expecting to bring it up with Lucifer, not Beel. And it’s not like this changes much, but somehow it still feels like a spanner in the works. I had a plan and everything…

Without meaning to, my eyes flicker to Belphie. Beel seems to catch the motion.

“Were you worried about us?” He asks quietly.

Unable to voice an answer without feeling like I’d given everything away, I nod. Beel’s face softens to an almost impossible degree, and for a moment he only sets his hand silently on my shoulder, as if unable to say anything else.

“...you don’t need to be,” He says at last. “Really. We’re alright. We’re all together now.”

I glance at Belphie again. “He’s been acting… weird, is all.”

“Would you be surprised if I told you he was just worried about you?” Beel asks in reply, and I pause. “...I guess you are.”

“Well, I just— why?”

“Why do you think?” When I only look at him cluelessly in response, he sighs. “...you know, you never tell us about these things. Now I can’t tell if you really don’t know, or if you’re—”

The library door opens again, and he’s cut off by Lucifer in the doorway, a stack of papers in his hands and several recyclable bags patterned with saluting crows floating behind him. He barely seems to register exactly which of us are in here, only that there are people in here.

“Someone help put all this away,” He commands, striding across the room. The bags remain suspended by the doorway. “I’ve got my hands full at the moment. And someone tell IK that she left her D.D.D. at Diavolo’s castle.”

The device in question is sitting on top of his paperwork stack, and he disappears into his study with it - apparently blind to the fact that I’m literally right here. Beel stares a little open-mouthed at the closed door.

After a moment, Satan lifts his head from his book. “Was that Lucifer?”

“I was wondering where that was,” I mutter under my breath. Beel, meanwhile, quickly gets to his feet and approaches the floating shopping bags.

The discussion we were having is quickly lost in the midst of shifting all the groceries, which Satan begrudgingly helps us with. I wonder afterwards if I ought to go see Lucifer now - but he seemed really quite harried about all those papers, so I should probably leave it for now. He’s not pleasant company when he’s stressed out, so I shouldn’t go knocking with anything more than an offering of a hot drink.

He seems to have sorted it out quickly, though - the next day, he looks mostly content. Though his frown lines haven’t quite disappeared… then again, that’s how he always looks, so maybe they’re permanent now.

He disappears into his study again to do some ‘tidying up’ after lunch. I decide then that it’d be a good time to (among other things) go collect my D.D.D., seeing as he seems to have forgotten that he has it.

The study door is slightly ajar when I get there. He’s also sitting at his desk and definitely not doing any dusting, so my only conclusion is that this was a set-up so that I’d have an opportunity to talk to him.

A conclusion that is only supported by the first thing he says when I step inside, and it’s barely short of a Bond-esque ‘I’ve been expecting you.’. “There you are. You were taking a while.”

“Sorry. Asmo needed help untying his laces.”

His eyebrows lift. “His laces?”

“He was trying out these new knots he found online, but he did them wrong.” I take the seat in front of his desk again. “So you’ve got my phone, right?”

“...right.” He slides it across the desk. I quickly stow it in my pocket. “But that’s not all you came here for.”

I shake my head. We’re both quiet for a moment. Then he asks, “Well?”

There’s something I feel like I need to do before I tell him my own answer. “First… what do you think?”

“Me?” Lucifer’s expression is blank for a moment. Then his mouth twists, and he sighs, leaning forward on his desk. “...I still don’t know. I’ve thought about it, but… I cannot tell if what I think is best for me, or best for Belphie.”

“Maybe they’re not that different,” I offer. He just presses his mouth into a line and looks down. “...well, I think you should show him.”

His eyes remain on the table. Then he looks up at me again. “Is that so?”

I nod. I still hadn’t been quite sure when I first got back from the castle, but now I am. “He deserves to say goodbye. Even if it hurts.”

“...yes. Yes, that’s the point of it all, isn’t it?” He chuckles a little, then stands up. “Good. That’s what I was thinking as well, but I…”

His eyes flicker over to the cabinet. Then, without giving me an opening to say anything, he crosses the room, retrieves a very particular bottle at the back of the shelf, pours himself a shot, and downs it.

I blink. He did that so quickly that I don’t think I even registered what he was doing until just now.

“...I believe I’m ready,” He says at last. “Let’s go find the twins, shall we?”

He’s striding out of the room before I can say a word, his usual infallible expression already falling across his face. I scramble to follow him, glancing briefly back at the still half-open cabinet before I leave. Somehow, Lucifer’s both the first and last person I’d expect to need liquid courage for this sort of thing. Given what he’s about to do, though… I can hardly begrudge him for it.

Beel and Belphie aren’t far. Luckily, they’re the only ones in the kitchen when we get there - this would probably be significantly trickier if the others were around.

Lucifer stands there in the doorway for a moment - the twins don’t seem to notice him - then steps forward. At the sound, Beel looks up; he seems to realise what’s going on as soon as he sees Lucifer’s face.

“Belphie,” Lucifer says, voice noticeably void of its usual authority. “There’s something you need to see.”

Though his head is inches away from dropping onto the countertop, Belphie’s clearly awake. He blinks at Lucifer sluggishly, then grouses, “Can’t it wait?”

“It’s important,” is all Lucifer seems to be able to say.

Beel nods and stands up. Belphie follows his motion, then straightens, clearly unnerved. “...what’s going on?”

“Just come with us, Belphie,” Beel tells him.

Belphie stares at him, then turns to me expectantly. I just shrug a little and jerk my head at Lucifer. Listen to him.

“...alright,” He says at last, giving us each a wary glance in turn. “Go on.”

Lucifer nods, spinning on his heel and setting off without giving himself much as a split second to second-guess it. Belphie follows, still cautious, then Beel - I dither on the spot for a moment, then decide to follow. I should make sure they make it into the room without issue, at least.

Lucifer’s strategy for making sure he doesn’t falter seems to be simply charging forward with a thousand-mile stare, moving without pause. When we get to the space where the room should be, he doesn’t hum the song, just mutters something with almost frenetic urgency; an absent wind ripples through the tapestry as he pulls it aside.

The door is already there. Without hesitation, Lucifer pushes it open.

All the air seems to leave Belphie’s body at once. For a moment he just stands there as if in a trance - then, turning to Beel, expression lost, he starts, “Is that…?”

Beel nods. Belphie turns to the door again, frozen.

“I’m sorry for hiding this from you for so long.” Lucifer’s voice is so muted that it’s barely there. “But I—”

“Shut up.” Belphie’s response seems automatic. Lucifer doesn’t bristle, as he usually would - just falls silent. “I… how long has this…?”

He reaches up and swipes a sleeve across his face. Head bowed, he scoffs humourlessly. “...you rotten big brother.”

I glance anxiously up at Beel, but it seems like my dismay is unfounded; he doesn’t look deterred in the slightest. A moment later, it becomes clear why - when he lowers his hands again, Belphie’s smiling.

“Shall we go in?” Lucifer asks softly.

Belphie takes a deep breath. Then he nods.

…things seem to be going well, then. I think this is where my job as moral support ends; I should probably hand things off to Lucifer before I accidentally invade whatever comes next. I say a silent good luck to the three of them, then turn to leave as quietly as I can.

“Wait,” says Beel, just as my foot leaves the ground. “IK, come in with us.”

“Huh?” I stop there on the spot, then stiffen as a delayed mix of shock and panic settles in. “—wait, what? Why? Do I need to—?”

All three of them are looking at me now. I try to smile, trying not to look like I’m edging away. I probably end up grimacing instead. “No, it’s fine, I’ll go— uh, you sort this out… privately, that’s the, um, word— I’ll just be—”

“Hey,” Belphie interrupts, voice gentle. “It’s alright.”

Well, I’m going to feel bad declining, but I don’t think that room likes me! What if I walk in and set off some kind of trap?! I’d ruin everything! Besides, do I really need to bear witness to this? Last time I was there for someone opening up in that room, I died! Like, as a direct consequence!

I’m not sure why this has thrown me off so much. Probably because none of this was in my plan, though that’s definitely my fault for not communicating it to Lucifer… speaking of, he’s turning to me now. Wait, what?

He smiles a little. “You’re free to go if you wish. But, if you decide to come… I have a feeling we might all need you in there.”

Singularity syndrome, Barbatos’s voice whispers in the back of my head. Displacement, solitude, grief. Handle it with care. Have patience, have humanity.

I try to stop myself from bouncing restlessly on my heels, but it doesn’t work. I bob there for a moment, then release a long sigh, and go still again. “...right. Okay. Then… I’ll be right behind you.”

Belphie smiles. “...thanks.”

Beel reaches out and grasps his hand. They look at each other, then step through the door together.

Lucifer stops just before he follows and takes a long, ever so slightly shaky breath. Then he nods at me, and we follow. The door shuts with a quiet click behind us.

It’s bright in here, just as I remember. I approach the window and peer out, wondering exactly how this daylight is being produced - but all I see is clouds. No sun, no land. Just an endless blue sky.

“...it’s like a ghost town in here,” I hear Belphie say finally.

I turn just in time to see him pull off one of the white sheets covering everything. He bats away the dust; the sheet falls from his idle hands as he stares at the dresser he’s just unveiled.

There are messy handprints along the drawers. He trails his fingers along it, searching - then settles on one in violet paint, matching his palm to its outline.

He stays there for a moment, then chuckles to himself. “Your memory’s going. My hands were way bigger than this.”

Lucifer doesn’t reply. He looks as if he’s holding his breath.

Belphie turns and yanks away another sheet. Underneath it is a rickety-looking chaise with the sort of vintage pattern you’d expect to see in an antique shop. The only discrepancy is just how bright the colours are - as if someone went into a photo editor and turned the saturation up ten-fold.

He traces the outline of the flowers and mutters, “I always hated this thing. Too loud.”

He sits down, then looks over at Lucifer again. “See? It doesn’t creak enough. Used to wake me up every damn time I moved…”

Lucifer gazes at him steadfastly for a moment, then asks, unimpressed, “Are you going to spend all your time criticising my recreation skills?”

“Maybe,” Belphie replies with a snort, tipping his head back. He hums. “...you got her lights right, though.”

I look up as well. Where it looks like there used to be a chandelier is some kind of mix of paper mache, cotton, bunting and streamers. It looks like a rainbow exploding out of a tornado of some kind. I can’t even tell where the light bulbs would go in that thing.

Beel is hovering anxiously by the fireplace. After a moment, he asks, “Are you alright, Belphie?”

“Me?” Belphie lowers his head again and looks at him. Then he scoffs. “No. Lucifer, what the hell were you doing in here this whole time?”

I watch as Lucifer’s gloved hands slowly hide themselves within the folds of his coat. “...thinking.”

“I’ll bet you were.” Belphie goes quiet for a moment. When he continues, all the energy has left his voice. “If this is meant to be a present, it’s a lousy one.”

“That isn’t it.” Lucifer’s eyes flicker to me. I give him an encouraging nod. “I’m going to close it. I wanted you to have a chance to see it before I did.”

I sneak a glance at Beel - he doesn’t look surprised. Belphie does, though. “...you’re gonna get rid of it?”

Lucifer nods. Belphie’s eyes drop to the carpet.

For a moment, he just sits there, tapping his foot soundlessly. Then he mutters, “Good.”

He stands up again. “Then I’d better do this before you do.”

Beel glances a little anxiously at Lucifer, who only shakes his head. Belphie circles the room for a moment, hand resting briefly on each other cloth-draped something - but he seems to decide against uncovering anything else. I don’t think he wants to see any more of this room.

He stops at the painting above the fireplace. I look at it for a moment - at the strange, harsh colours, the way the lines seem to bash into each other without rhyme or reason, and suddenly think of a face I once saw in a dream. I think, in some roundabout way… this is a self-portrait.

Belphie looks up at it, then sighs and dips his head. “...hey, Lilith.”

I think I’m the one holding my breath now. I shuffle a little closer to the window and try not to make a sound.

“I did a lot of stupid things this year,” Belphie mutters. “The sort of things you’d hit me for. Look, I just… missed you. When you died, I just… I don’t know. Why did you have to go and—”

His voice breaks. He stops, running a hand down his face, then draws in a shaky breath and offers the painting an ironic grin. “I’m not crying, so don’t tease me. It’s your fault, anyway.”

He stares pointedly up at it for a moment, then shakes his head. “…nah, I’m joking. I should’ve said goodbye a long time ago.

“It’s not all bad news, though. You used to go on and on about adopting a cherub or something… well, we’ve got pretty close. Better, actually. You’d love her.”

It takes me a split second to realise what he’s getting at, and even then I don’t realise what he wants me to do until he beckons me over. As soon as I do, I hurry to do as he says, only just managing not to catch my foot on a trailing sheet as I make my way over.

Belphie’s not saying anything else. After a moment, finding the silence unbearable with what feels like four sets of eyes on me now, I bow at the fireplace. “Ahem. Um… hi, Miss Lilith.”

“You can just call her Lilith,” Belphie says with a snort. “You’ll make her feel old.”

“Right. Um. Lilith…” I bow again, for want of something to do. “...I, um… I don’t have any paper money or incense to burn… or… or wine to offer…”

I feel excruciatingly awkward right now. “I met you, sort of. In a dream. Um… I couldn’t talk to you then, cause— well, dream, but I thought you were pretty. I liked your hair. If I could say something that you could hear, I guess it'd be…

“...I like your paintings. I’d show you some of ours if I could. I think you’d like Picasso. He had a really long name - something like, uh… hang on, I used to know this… Pablo… Pablo Diego Jose Francis something… Paul, I think? De los… Rem… I don’t remember the rest of it, but it’s got a bunch more parts to it. He was born the same day as my dad, actually. Well - not in the same year, that was like… nearly a hundred and fifty years ago, but—”

Belphie’s laughing silently into his sleeve. Unable to bear it any longer, I duck behind him and stare shame-facedly at the floor. “—sorry.”

He just shakes his head and ruffles my hair, still chuckling. After a moment, sighing, he looks up at the painting again. “...told you. Bet you’re even madder at me now, huh?”

There’s a very long silence. Then Belphie’s smile falls again. “...this is so stupid. What the hell am I doing?”

He drops his head and stares hard at the ground. His shoulders fall, then abruptly rise again as he steels himself.

“Listen,” He begins, “I can’t keep dragging you around with me like this. I don’t want this place to keep reminding me that you’re not here. When it’s gone, you’ll be gone too. Like I should’ve let you be a long time ago.

“I’m going to leave you here, and then you can fly away. Fly as fast as you can, and don’t look back.”

He takes a deep breath. “I’m— we’re alright. I don’t know why I spent so long thinking we never would be.”

Lucifer lifts his head as he steps away from the fireplace. Beel stops him as he makes to move forward.

“So… bye, Lilith.” Belphie isn’t not looking at the painting anymore. “...I promise to take care of us all.”

He turns as if to make for the door. Then, suddenly he falters - he veers to the right, foot slipping briefly on the carpet, and throws himself into Lucifer in a fierce hug.

Lucifer seems to have been expecting it. He only stumbles a little; a moment later, he wraps his arms around Belphie’s shoulders.

“It was never your fault,” He says softly, and looks up at Beel. “Either of you.”

Beel moves forward. He places one hand on Belphie’s back, and the other on Lucifer’s arm. “It wasn’t yours, either.”

When we finally leave the room, Belphie doesn’t stop to watch it disappear. Beel places an arm around his shoulders, and the two of them half-stumble away. That just leaves me and Lucifer to shut the door behind us.

Stretching out a hand, he traces a symbol into the wood. His mouth moves silently - whether in an incantation or a final goodbye, I don’t know. The entire house seems to tremble for a moment, then sigh.

I turn away. Though I don’t see it happen, I know the door isn’t there anymore.

There’s a rustle as the tapestry falls again. Lucifer steps away and comes to a stop beside me.

“We should really redecorate,” He says after a moment. Unable to think of anything to say, I just nod in silence.

He looks down at me. His mouth curls into a smile. “...thank you, IK.”

—

Creak…

“I can hear you. Quit sneaking around.”

I step a little further into the observatory. The figure on the mattress turns to look at me. “...oh, IK. You’re still up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” I glance around. “....can I sit with you for a bit?”

Belphie waves a slightly melodramatic hand around himself. “Room’s your oyster.”

After a moment, wondering if he’s telling me to go sit somewhere else, I decide on perching on the very end of the mattress. Belphie gives me a look, then sighs, reaches out, and gives my arm a tug. “C’mon, relax.”

“Uh, right…”

I situate myself a little more comfortably on the mattress, beginning to pick anxiously at my nails. I can see Belphie watching me with a furrowed brow in the corner of my eye.

“...hey,” He starts quietly, “Something wrong?”

I’m silent for a while. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

He snorts. “I’m fine. Seriously.”

Neither of us say anything. Then Belphie asks, “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Why’re you still awake?” I ask in reply.

“Not tired. Answer the question.”

I just look at him. “When are you ever not tired?”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares hard. After a while, too worn out to persist, I mutter, “Bad dream.”

“I thought so.” He pauses. “...you’ve been having them for a while, haven’t you?”

After a good minute of trying to wait out the question, I decide to lie down. Unfortunately, all Belphie does is copy me and continue to wait for an answer.

“They’re not that bad,” I mutter. “Just annoying, more than anything. How could you even tell?”

“Beel noticed. He said he knew the look.” I hear a rustle as Belphie turns his head. “...why didn’t you say anything?”

I just sigh in reply. He clicks his tongue. “...I’ve been trying to look stuff up. I bought a dreamcatcher the other day, but either the enchantment doesn’t actually work or I got scammed, ‘cause I left it in your room and it’s not worked. Dream stuff just isn’t covered in most of our textbooks. You’d think that’s weird, since that’s the king’s whole thing…”

“Maybe it’s because it’s his thing. Sort of thing Henry VIII would do if he had magic powers.”

“Him with the six wives? Yeah, you’ve got a point…” Belphie lifts his hand, drawing idle patterns in the air. The stars above us twinkle absently. “...well, I still don’t have anything. But I’m still here to talk, if you need to.”

“Not much to talk about,” I mumble. “Just… scary stuff. The dark. Eyes. Falling.”

“Me,” He adds quietly. I don’t acknowledge it, but I don’t disagree, either.

We both lie there in silence for a while. I keep my eyes on the sky, trying to recall all the constellations I’ve been taught.

“...you know,” Belphie starts suddenly, long after I think he’s fallen asleep, “Before, if anyone had tried to finish our lullaby for us, I would’ve hated it.”

Despite myself, I turn to look at him. “Huh?”

“At the campfire, remember?” He sighs a little. “It was ages ago that we came up with it. Back when we were still pretty new down here… Satan read about Ipos’s lullaby and wanted to know about it, so we asked Lord Diavolo. He taught us the tune, and we just kind of ran with it. After a while, we almost had a complete song.

“But it just kind of… stopped there. We never figured out how to finish it. I didn’t want to finish it, ‘cause…. to me, Lilith was supposed to have a line. We couldn’t end the song without it. Eventually, we stopped singing it, and I never knew how to tell anyone I missed it. Even though… I always felt sad when we couldn’t end it properly.

“And maybe that’s why we stopped. Maybe that’s why I never said anything about singing it again. I started out telling myself Lilith had to have a line, it wasn’t fair if she didn’t, but— I was starting to wish we could just finish it on our own. And that felt… wrong. Like I was forgetting.

“For a really long time, all I wanted to do was forget. But I knew I couldn’t. So I forced myself not to, and I just got angrier and angrier, and…

“...I did want to just carry on. Sometimes I thought I was better, that I was happy… but then it stopped. And it was always worse the next time.

“Everything after Diavolo started going on about this exchange program… it was the last straw. I couldn’t understand. I could handle things from far away, but humans in the Devildom? I didn’t want them anywhere near us. They were bad news. Last time one of us got close to one…

“...we’re a family. I thought we lost everything back then, during the war… for a long time afterwards, there were some nights where we were the only reason I had to keep going. And I thought, of all demons, he’d understand, right?

“But… Lucifer figured out what I didn’t a long time ago. And I was angrier about that than I ever was about being put in the attic.”

He stares up for a while, then chuckles. “...you’re way better at listening than you are at talking, aren’t you? I was meant to be helping you…”

I just reach over and give him a gentle nudge in the arm. Belphie sighs.

“...for the record, I’m happy you helped us finish the song. To be honest, it felt like that was how it was always meant to be. So… uh… I’m glad you’re here, is what I’m trying to say. And—”

He sits up. “—if it’s okay… I want to make a pact with you.”

For a good few seconds, I don’t move. Then I abruptly sit up as well. “Wait, what?”

“I promised I’d protect us, didn’t I?” He offers me a hand. “So from now on - if it’s monsters, teachers, nightmares, whatever, I’ll be there. Okay?”

I stare at him for a moment, then find myself breaking out into a slightly incredulous smile. “...promise?”

“No matter how many times I need to wake up,” He nods seriously. “And whatever I have to do. Promise.”

Tonight’s the first time a nightmare’s made me actually get up and leave my room, and normally I wouldn’t even have gone to the observatory. Of all the routes I could’ve taken, of all the things that could’ve happened…

I place my right hand in his. For a moment, despite having offered, Belphie looks disbelieving.

I forgive you, I tell him silently. He smiles and begins the incantation.

Seven out of seven. When I first met him in the attic, I’d promised to get six. It feels nigh-impossible that all this has happened since then.

“Hey,” Belphie begins as the outline of the pact mark begins to form, “Mind if I call you twinkle, too?”

I tilt my head at him, then shrug. “Go ahead.”

He grins. “Thanks.”