Chapter Text
Lucifer was alone in the cabin for… fuck, he didn't even have his phone to check the time. And with the windows closed off with something outside them, he didn't even have sunlight to gauge time. His perception of time was bad enough as it was, he didn't need to be closed into a room with no indication of its passage. That was just going to make it worse.
He was alone for however fucking long he was alone before he eventually slid his legs off the cot he was placed on, wrapping his arms around himself. The chains between his wrists seemed to extend for him when he started moving, giving him plenty of space to move around. At least he had that going for him. And his ankles didn't have chains on them at all.
Yet, he thought bitterly.
Slowly, he rose to his feet, starting to poke around his padded little prison cell. The walls were cobbled stone, stuck together with the faint lines of mortar to keep them solid, and cool to the touch. The cot itself was hewn by hand from branches, likely oak given how firm it felt, and a mesh of thinner ones underneath to support its mattress of pine boughs and leather hides. It… reminded him of the bed in Alastor's room, actually, though it lacked his comforting smell.
Oh, Alastor…
He set his jaw, rising to his feet to continue looking around. In the scuffle of being thrown in here, he hadn't taken much time to explore his surroundings. On the wall behind where Michael had thrown them in, there was a little dresser with a cracked, dusty mirror set behind it, dirty smudges making it difficult to see his reflection. Probably for the best; he didn't want to see his own face right now, never mind his brother's. Still, he stepped over, pulling open one of the drawers to peek inside.
Folded up robes in flawless white with golden trim, just like he'd worn when he was welcome in Heaven, filled the top right drawer. The next drawer down had pants and shorts, followed by plain boxers in the third and final drawer. On the left, there were a few more robes, though those ones were more formal, with more intricate, filigree embroidery. Then it was a sock drawer, and a collection of briefs.
"Hm. So which is it," he muttered, stepping away from the dresser as he carelessly kicked the drawer shut. The vanity shook, but held steady, even as the mirror wobbled against the wall.
Further along, there was another table, this one with an old box of a television on it, two crooked antennas sticking up from the top. It only had two dials on the right side; one to power it on, the other to tune the channel, he assumed. A beat up chair sat in front of that, with a small coffee table to its side where one could set their drinks or snacks while watching the damn thing.
There weren't any shelves, no books in sight, or magazines for that matter. Clearly this wasn't somewhere his brother regularly visited for the sake of unwinding and relaxing. Unless his idea of relaxing was watching a television screen the sign of a matchbox. He almost wanted to turn it on long enough to see what channel it was tuned to, but he was too scared to see some dark web snuff film or something. Who fucking knew with Michael. He was a little sadistic when Lu was last in Heaven, but clearly that had dialed up to fucking eleven in his time away from him.
He moved on to the kitchen area, checking the drawers for anything useful. A few blunt pallet knives, some spoons, but no forks or anything that would be a more useful weapon. The spoons, he could probably do something with, but he'd have to get to the point of losing his temper to see if he could still breathe hellfire with these cuffs.
There wasn't even any food in the cupboards, though one of the lower cabinets was a small refrigerator made to look like a cupboard. At least there was that. There were a couple bottles of what looked like water in there, but they were old, the labels yellowed with age to the point he couldn't read them. For all he knew, they were moonshine. The seals were all broken, so he didn't dare sip one to find out.
With a huff, he stepped over to the fireplace, the last large piece in the room. There was a stand where one might put pokers and shovels to tend it, but it was as empty as the hearth, not even a log lingering that he could try to light on fire. Not that he had the means to anyway, with no matches, no lighters, not even a pair of rocks to smash together.
Finally, he turned his attention to the door. The latch to lock it was on his side, so what was the point of locking it behind him? He twisted the latch to unlock the knob, then tried to pull the door open. He heard the jingle of metal against metal, a sigh leaving him. Because it had a padlock on the other side. Of course. He twisted the latch to locked once more, not wanting Michael to realize he was trying to escape.
The devil made his way back to the cot, sitting down on the edge with a frown. Nothing to read, no music to listen to, nothing to eat… what the hell was he supposed to do while he waited for Michael to get back to… who the fuck knew what? He let out a sigh, sliding back onto the hides to curl up as small as he could, his back to the door. His eyes closed, wishing he had a pillow or blankets to hide under.
"Please… please find me…"
~
Raph's shoes clicked against the marble floor, echoing through the hall as he strode toward Sera's chambers. The Healer had a deep frown on his face, concern etched on his features. She'd agreed to his emergency meeting, thankfully. Double thankfully, she'd agreed to discretion. The situation was delicate, and the last thing he needed was to tip off the cause of it all.
He pulled the door to her office open, closing it behind him with a quiet click. She was already seated at her desk, mildly confused but calm. "Raphael," she greeted him with a bow of her head. "You said this was urgent. What's happening?"
"High Seraphim," he returned her greeting respectfully, bowing his head in turn. "I fear we may have a crisis on our hands. The Morning Star has vanished with little trace and no signs of where he's gone," he began. Her eyes widened in shock, but he continued. "His last known location was the Embassy in Hell. The location has been investigated, with no signs that any hellborn or any of the sins were involved. His… partner," he said carefully, "used a tracking spell to determine his location."
"...Then he is not missing?" she asked, arching a brow.
"Worse. He's here," he clarified.
Sera gawked at him for a moment, then let out a distressed laugh, the sound almost forced. "I've… never known you for a practical joker, Raphael," she said, though her tone begged for that to be the case. "Very funny." When he didn't crack a smile with her, she paled, covering her mouth with one hand as her wings drew in nervously. "You're not laughing," she wheezed, bringing her other hand up to her head. "Ohhh, you're not laughing at all."
"Not even slightly. There's more," he informed her.
"Oh, just put a blade through my head and be done with it," she moaned, dropping her forehead to the surface of her desk. "It never ends."
"The only sign of anyone else in the Embassy was a drop of blood. Golden blood. Which his partner tasted." He paused, taking a deep breath. "He identified its taste as infuriating."
"Michael," she breathed, lifting her head and staring at him. "You're certain that was the case?" she demanded, rising to her feet.
"I'm afraid so," he nodded, closing his eyes. "It would seem the Sword has taken him. For what purpose is unclear. Further, we don't know precisely where in Heaven he's hidden him. Only that he is here somewhere. I suspect if we were to have the finding spell cast again, it would lead us to his location, but I fear it would also alert Michael that we are aware of what he has done."
"Where would he hide him? Where could he possibly stash someone as powerful as the King of Hell without anyone knowing he even brought him here?"
"Actually… my new… colleague… has the answer to that," he stated. "The last time he was taken captive, he informed her of a bracelet capable of suppressing his power. If Michael got his hands on one such device…"
"He'd be able to get him past Heaven's defenses completely undetected," she realized. "There'd be nothing to trigger the shielding wards that the Morning Star was even here." The seraphim fell silent for a while, rubbing her temples. "...So Lucifer is somewhere in Heaven, only Michael knows where, and we can't outright ask him because to do so would risk his safety because we don't even know what he's taken him for. Furthermore, we can't cast a spell to seek him out because it could also alert Michael that we know what he's done. And his partner, who I understand is the most powerful sinner in Hell, is fully aware of this. As well as presumably all six of the remaining Deadly Sins that we have their king. Is that what you are telling me?"
"You've put it succinctly. But five," he corrected her. "He and Leviathan had a falling out. To put it mildly," he muttered. "She's in the hospital."
"Great," she sighed. "They're already down a sin and now one of ours has kidnapped their king. That makes it so much better," she groaned. "Why would he take… oh… I know why," she slammed her head on the desk again.
"...Because we were made in pairs, and unlike Lucifer, Michael never tried to seek out a suitable substitute for the role Samael was meant to fill," Raph said, taking a seat across from her. "Despite ten thousand years to search, he never tried to find someone else that would pull him from his thoughts of war and bloodshed and bring light to his life. Meanwhile, although he remained loyal to a human who did not deserve his attention, the Morning Star found someone of a suitable nature to keep him grounded and keep him from floating too far into the clouds."
After a while of silence, the Healer cleared his throat. "I intend to return to Hell. Now it is more important than ever to maintain an open communication channel. We have to find Lucifer as soon as possible, before Michael realizes we know what he's done and before he does anything irreparable to him. It is of utmost importance."
"Agreed," Sera nodded. "...Speak with Abel and Emily. Perhaps they know winners that can aid in the search that will go undetected. Moving any of the exorcists will get the general's attention for sure. You have my blessing to remain in Hell to continue working with Belphegor as planned previously. And… if you can, have Gabriel return to Heaven. I wish to consult with him on this matter as well."
"Do you think it wise to involve Emily?" he asked. "Sweet girl that she is, she's not good at keeping secrets," he pointed out. "One slip of the tongue in front of Michael and Lucifer will be in very real danger."
"As if he isn't already," she mused, but relented as her shoulders sagged. "Just Abel, then. Make haste, Healer," she urged, bowing her head to dismiss him. He returned the gesture, striding out of the room.
Slowly, the High Seraphim turned around, staring out the glass window across miles of sprawling cityscape. "Lucifer Morningstar… where are you?" she whispered, closing her eyes.