Work Text:
Calling the plights that ailed the seven rulers of the Devildom “sins” was cruel, belittling, and frankly incorrect. For a sin is something one choses. It is a flaw upon their morality that they could have chosen to ignore but instead chose to indulge in. Sins are choices. And our seven brothers never had one.
Lucifer barely noticed his at first. There were more pressing matters, you see. His sister dying in his arms, his brothers having fallen from the sky with him, and a young new soul who was now alone. He first felt it when he pledged himself to Diavolo. A cold, chilling, blade pierced itself through his chest. It was startling. He would have doubled over from it if he wasn’t sure doing so would amplify the pain tenfold.
Keep your back straight, it told him. Stand tall. Exemplify serenity and power. You are the highest. You are worthless for having flaws so hide them away. They are a stain upon our pristine image.
Disgust coursed through Lucifer’s veins as the thought wormed its way into his mind. Those thoughts were not his. At least they didn’t used to be. Not to that degree. Lucifer was already abhorred by his new demonic nature and the sin— the curse — felt like his new form clawing at what remained of his pristine white soul (though deep down he already knew it was stained black). But despite his disgust… he listened.
Because he was tired and had no energy to take another knife to the chest whist wrangling Satan into submission before he went on a rampage. He swiftly rendered the demon unconscious and when he held him in his arms, he felt like he should apologize to the poor soul. He did not.
The fault is not yours. You are above making mistakes.
When he finally found the rest of his brothers and took in their shivering, confused, tear soaked, forms, he wanted nothing more than to pull all of them into his arms. He did not.
To comfort is to admit weakness. It is to admit that you need comfort as well and you do not.
He knew these murmurings within his mind were false. But he was too exhausted to fight with them.
He remained exhausted. When they cried. When they misbehaved. When they hurt themselves. When they hurt others. When they were weak and failed to control their curses… he did the same. Punish. Yell. Demand order. Demand perfection. And the entire time he punished and yelled and demanded, despite his heart wanting desperately to just comfort his brothers instead… he always received the same answer to his plea.
Show no weakness.
Show no weakness.
Show no weakness.
You will not be able to protect them if you admit you are weak.
Mammon didn’t notice at first either. There was no time for thoughts or noticing . First he had to find everyone. There should be six— No, seven. The new guy. Him. Right. Head count. Levi’s here, that’s one. Asmo, oh Asmo’s crying. Hug him and that’s two. Come on, get up, we’ve gotta move. Gotta find the twins. There they are! Three and four. Oh Belphie. Oh Beel. Get up, come on. It’s okay, we’ve gotta find the others. Three more. Three more.
Three more. Something within him urgently chanted this.
Mammon dragged his brothers behind him as he scoured the infernal land. Oh shit, they were in the Devildom, weren’t they? Didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except finding the three more. Three more, three more, three more—
Lucifer! That’s five! And new guy! Six! Now where was…?
Seven… there were supposed to be seven. Lucifer, where is seven? What do you mean gone? Beel, what do you mean you’re sorry? Where’s seven— I mean, Lilith. Where’s Lil—?
There’s supposed to be seven.
“What…?” Mammon murmured out loud. No one heard.
I want seven. I need seven. Something’s missing! I want it! I want !
Want want want.
That feeling of want never went away. In a way that made sense. Lilith— his sweet, cute, amazing little sister, was gone and not coming back so the gaping hole inside him seemed almost natural. But instead of that hole feeling melancholic and sad (it did but not just ), Mammon’s mind was overcome with that burning want . It was needy and anxious and selfish. He wanted her back. He wanted the hurt to stop. Want want want.
His hands would itch and tingle. His eyes flitted about, searching, considering. His heart pounded. His breathing was never steady. His wants were no longer just wants. They were needs .
He needed that pretty shiny trinket from that little human world shop that he always admired when he passed. He needed to be the one Belphie would come to for a nightmare. He needed to take his money, and his possessions, and his brothers and tuck it all away and never let it go. And because money and things were the least consequential of his wants… he focused on those. His brothers didn’t need him to suddenly see them as objects to hoard so he put them out of his mind and collected things .
So he worked. Then he gambled. Then he swindled. Then he straight up stole. It didn’t fully satisfy his burning want but it calmed the flame and let him breathe again. After a while, it was even fun in a way. His pursuit of wealth and material possessions led him into all kinds of trouble. He saw new things, he tried new things, he found new ways to get caught. It was an adventure every time. And punishing him for his misdeeds was about the only time Lucifer ( Five) interacted with him nowadays and he still needed to make sure he was there. So eventually he stopped trying too hard to resist it. Whenever a new want quickened his pulse, he pursued it and it calmed… almost completely.
Mammon always wondered if his wants would be easier on him if one particular want could finally be fulfilled.
Seven.
Levi had no one to envy at first. At least he would have thought so. But as Mammon jumped to his feet, whipping his head around at breakneck speeds seconds after hitting the ground, Levi couldn’t find it in himself to be worried about him or glad he was okay… he was just jealous. Jealous… of his… recovery time. What??
What a thing to be jealous of at a time like this! Get up, Levi. Fly around and help him find—
Oh… No wings.
No wings?
His wings were gone?
He lost his wings.
No wings.
Mammon started flying. He has wings. Why did he get to keep his wings?
Mammon circled back and picked him up. They went to find their brothers and these horrible inappropriate (honestly cruel for the circumstance they were in) thoughts kept popping up everywhere. They found Asmo crumpled and crying, clutching his body and wrapping his wings around himself.
He gets to keep his wings too! All four of them! It’s not fair!
They found Beel and Belphie clutched in each other's arms, crying their eyes out and covered in blood and dirt.
They’re so close. You could never be that close with anyone.
Lucifer found them, carrying an unconscious demon— the one that had laid devastation to the celestial army all on his own.
Lucifer is so strong. Why are you so weak?
The entire time, he thought of these things but he didn’t notice anything that actually mattered. They had fallen from grace. They were banished. They were cursed. His brothers were hurting. They had a new brother to look after. Lilith was dead .
That was the one that really sent him off into a kick of self loathing.
The whole time…. The whole time he was helping Mammon find everyone he didn’t think for a second about the fact that one of all of them might be dead. Too caught up in his own selfish little world. If anything, he was lucky! He should be grateful! He was alive, he was safe, and he clearly wasn’t overcome by a curse that caused him physical discomfort or pain. Mammon looked like he was seconds away from hyperventilating at any given moment, Asmo was practically chewing the flesh off his fingers, Belphie could barely stand up right, and Beel looked like he was being gutted . It was clearly so much worse for them!
But as far as his curse was concerned, they had everything. And Levi had nothing. And he wanted everything they had. Any happiness they displayed, anything remotely positive that happened to them, he couldn’t be happy for it. He couldn’t be happy for them . He knew he was a worthless piece of shit but damn. He didn’t know how this curse managed to make him worse than he already was but it succeeded. From then on, Levi locked himself away in his room and soaked up stories. He always loved stories. And he’d much rather be jealous of talented artists and writers rather than his own brothers whom he was supposed to love.
Satan was angry. Satan was wrath. There was nothing else. He knew only one thing in his haze of rage. Father hurt them. He hurt all of them. He killed Lilith and he must pay .
They all must pay. Everyone. Everything. Even the originator of this wrath himself because the first original thought Satan has was: How dare he. How dare he birth me into the world like this. With a purpose like this. You want me here to kill? You want me to be a killer? Fine… I’LL KILL YOU !!!
He did not kill him. He couldn’t. That fact angered him greatly for many years (probably his entire life if he was being honest). What made him even angrier was how little he understood. How barren and new his mind was. He couldn’t do anything, not even talk. He could barely understand his brother’s when they spoke. He only understood the fact that they were his brothers because Asmo kept pointing at himself and saying “brother” over and over again. This would have angered him even more if those words weren’t followed by other ones such as, “And you’re Satan. You’re our brother and we love you very much. I love you very much, Tan Tan. I love you. We all love you.”
The first thing Satan learned beyond anger was that he was loved. That brought a few things into clarity. Like why Mammon brought him food everyday and sang to him till he was calm enough to eat it. And why Levi would sneak into his room when he thought no one would notice and give him a new stuffed animal (he ripped it apart in anger every single time) (not on purpose but it still happened) (and Levi still brought him new ones). And why Asmo spent so much time with him just talking and telling him that he loved him. And why Beel would charge and hug him tightly whenever he broke out of his room and began causing havoc. Why he would squeeze his arms around him and not let go no matter how much Satan thrashed and clawed and bit at him. Why he would continue to hold him until Belphie rushed in and put him to sleep or until he calmed down on his own and burst into tears, muttering incoherently because he hadn’t figured out how to say “I’m sorry” yet.
The fact that he was loved did calm his anger a bit. At least enough for other emotions to start existing and other parts of Satan to start existing as a whole. But on the other hand, it also made him angrier because he knew he was capable of being loved… So why didn’t Lucifer love him? Satan knew his entire existence was a curse. But if his brothers could love him anyway, why couldn’t he? Wasn't he supposed to be the best of them ?
The first thing Asmo noticed was his heart shattering into a million pieces and forcing him to wail out in despair. He felt the horns. He felt his wings. He felt how wrong everything was. He felt it and he wanted it to stop.
And then he felt something else and it made everything a million times worse. Because his… lower regions should not be throbbing so much at a time like this.
Asmo was already decently acquainted with sex. He’d had a lovely time with a shepard’s boy many years ago and decided to show him that homosexuality was not a sin in a more… unorthodox way than one usually would. Asmo was no stranger to attraction. But he should not be feeling this way at a time like this.
Thankfully, it did pass. Mainly when Lucifer told him Lilith was dead and he couldn’t feel anything other than anguish.
But it came back. And it would happen at the most absurd and inconvenient times. Asmo never thought this way about his brothers before but they were all very attractive demons. At first he was thoroughly ashamed. He remembered the reaming he’d received when the other angels first found out he fornicated with a human. He hadn’t broken any rules but they were all very high up on their high horses about the topic. After reminding himself about that annoying ordeal, he decided to deal with this problem the obvious way. He went out and made sweet sweet love to anyone who wanted it (him). Lust may have been a sin but as far as he was concerned, as long as he had enthusiastic consent, he didn’t see what the issue was. Sure, maybe it was a bit excessive at times, especially since he had to do it every day or two to keep himself satisfied, but it worked! Now he had more time and brain power at his disposal to help his family.
It was just a mess, you see. Lucifer had gotten all broody and distant and that wouldn’t do! Mammon kept sneaking out to cause trouble when he should have been helping him with the others, the nerve! Poor Levi was struggling so much, he could tell. And Satan, the sweet little thing. That boy was just a bubbling cauldron swirling with anger and hurt. Good thing there was more than enough room for him to pour all his love into as well. And Beel. He needed to go grocery shopping again. If he found Beel curled up on the floor next to the empty fridge, sobbing, one more time, he might actually die of heartbreak. And he made sure to always set aside time to spoon feed Belphie his food on the days he just couldn’t manage to get out of bed. His poor, poor brothers. Asmo graciously accepted his heart achining for them rather than his groin.
Beel’s body was already wracked with pain. His eyes burning, his throat sealed shut, his chest aching, his stomach sickly and disoriented. He held onto Belphie as they fell and shielded his twin from most of the impact when they hit the floor. And seeing as his body had been slammed through realms, from the highest point of the Devildom and then into solid dirt, it made sense that everything else hurt too. But then, as if he wasn’t suffering enough, a huge gaping chasm opened up in his stomach. And then… it… ate at him . Beel was already weeping, his eyes wide and jaw slack as he gasped out sobs. Belphie was as well. He wailed, clutching Beel’s front and holding on to him for dear life. Beel held him back because he didn’t know what else to do. This barely even felt like hunger. It was just torture.
Their big brothers arrived. Mammon, Levi and Asmo. They rallied around them. Asmo petted their heads and shushed them like when they were tiny little kids. It didn’t help. Nothing would help. He knew that. This hunger would be eternal. It was his punishment. He knew.
“Beel. Belphie. You gotta get up guys.”
“I-I… c-can’t…” Belphie gasped. His breaths were deep and heavy, like he was sucking them in through a wet towel.
“You gotta!” Mammon pressed, his tone as gentle as it could be despite his obvious panic. “I know, I know it’s hard, but you gotta. We gotta find ‘em. Lucifer and the new guy and Lilith .”
Beel screamed. He didn’t mean to scream. But his stomach stabbed with hunger at the exact same moment Mammon said her name and he couldn’t help himself. Asmo cooed to him harder and whispered comforting words to him. Beel brushed him off and used that strength he was supposed to have to stand and pick Belphie up with him.
Okay… standing didn’t exactly make it worse . But hearing Lucifer say what he already knew definitely did. Beel clutched at his stomach as he stood there, swaying, repeating himself over and over again. He was sorry. His body had changed. He’d grown eye bags in a matter of moments. His skin felt tight. His bones felt brittle. His teeth were sharp and huge , poking out of his upper lip and making his words almost ilegible as he swayed back and forth. He was sorry. He was sorry . He was so hungry…
And it didn’t stop.
The first time Beel ate after the fall was an event he would never forget no matter how much he wanted to. It was absurd and would have been impressive if not for literally everything else that was going on. For starters, it had been during what was supposed to be a diplomatic meeting while the demon king gave them their new names. There was a large spread set up for some kind of feast. A very large feast…
Feast. Hungry .
Lucifer stopped talking mid sentence as Beel’s stomach roared . No one would have been able to stop him. In a matter of minutes he had eaten the entire thing and somehow felt nauseatingly full and horrifically empty at the same exact time. And the worst part was he was basically just a spectator during the whole thing. He was seeing through his eyes but his mind was too cloudy for thought and his ravenous body moved all on its own. Once all the food was gone Beel then reached for and bit down on one of the plates. That was the part when Belphie grabbed his shoulder and told him to stop.
Beel did stop, consciousness returning to him in an instant as he spat out the ceramic bits of what used to be a lovely china plate, horrified with himself. He could feel all the eyes on his back, his new insectoid wings twitching in response. Beel didn’t dare turn in their direction. He said he was sorry again and burst into tears.
Beel had prayed to himself (since there was no point in asking for help from the one who cursed him) that that would be the last time he ever lost control like that.
It wasn’t.
It happened far too often for his tastes. Nothing tastes anymore. Beel had always been the protector in this family. He was big and strong and gave great hugs, all perfect traits for the family member that everyone felt safe with. He couldn’t bear seeing that shatter the first time he destroyed the kitchen.
He couldn’t protect them anymore. He couldn’t protect them from this. He couldn’t even protect them from himself.
He couldn’t even take care of Belphie on his own.
He kept eating all the damn pancakes he tried to make for him.
Belphie couldn’t move . He wanted to. He wanted to so badly. He wanted to do so much more besides hug his brother and cry. And when Mammon asked him to do more, he really tried. But he felt like all his energy had been left behind in the celestial realm. Or, more accurately, that someone had ripped it away from him as he fell. Then Beel screamed and to hell with being tired. He tried to get up on his own (emphasis on tried ). Then Beel scooped him to his feet and Belphie may have been exhausted but he could see the pain on Beel’s face as they both swayed where they stood.
What did he do to us? Belphie’s tired eyes asked.
I don’t know… Beel’s starving ones replied.
But he pushed through because he could tell Beel was in no condition to carry him. That alone was scary. Beel was always ready to carry him. To carry any of them. Those strong arms were made for lifting his brothers. Now the most they could do was steady him while they walked. Belphie pushed through because this was important. Finding everyone was important.
Then he was reminded of what he saw when he and Beel fell… and he collapsed to the floor.
For the longest time, Belphie could only move when there was an emergency. Like when Beel needed him. Or… when Beel needed him… Yeah that was basically the only thing that could get him to stand. But beyond that… Belphie laid in bed in a near catatonic state. When he wasn’t sleeping, he stared up at the ceiling with barely blinking eyes. When it became clear that the youngest was not going to take care of any of his bodily needs, his brother’s did it for him. Granted most of it was Beel but even then there were some days he couldn’t or some tasks he wasn’t equipt to complete. He tried. Oh, he tried. But after the fourth time Beel walked into their room in the last twenty minutes with an empty plate that had been meant to be Belphie’s breakfast, he just bit his lip with a self loathing expression, dropped the plate, and sprinted out of the room. That was the first time all month that Belphie got out of bed and ran after him.
Needless to say, after the breakdown Beel had over that issue, feeding duty was left to someone else, usually Asmo. Belphie wasn’t quite sure why they bothered doing this. He wasn’t contributing anything to the family. He was pretty explicitly doing the exact opposite. They should all be working on helping each other overcome their new curses, not acting as life support for him because he was too lazy to roll over so he wouldn’t get bedsores.
But they did it anyways. Every single day. He’d been up there for so long and interacted with everyone else so little that…
…Honestly he kinda forgot about Satan.
Belphie spared the energy to tilt his head in the demon’s direction as he entered. The last time he had seen this guy was when the sloth demon ran in to stop him from hurting Beel. That was also, incidentally, the first time he learned about his ability to force people asleep. Belphie’s feelings on him were… mixed.
“I need your help,” Satan said.
Oh, he talked now?
“Why?” Belphie asked, his voice scratchy and rough from neglect.
“I really wanna hit things,” Satan said. Belphie now noticed that he was shivering slightly. “But the last time I did that, I hurt Beel and that made me want to gouge out my own heart and overhand throw it into a sea of lava.”
“Good,” Belphie said. “Don’t hurt Beel.”
“Can you put me to sleep again so I don’t hit things?” Satan asked.
“Sure.” Belphie isn’t sure why he agreed. He felt like he should be angry at him. But what he’d been able to hear of his rampages were sometimes indiscernible from Beel’s and it made hating him seem a little hypocritical.
He scooched over so Satan had more room and the demon laid down next to him. Belphie put a hand in his hair and their eyes both begin to droop. This was taking a little bit more effort than usual. He’d grown since the last time he did this. His mind was more complicated.
“… Do you love me…?”
Belphie blinked.
“What??”
“You’re the only one who hasn’t said it yet…” Satan clarified, sleepily. “Except for… Lucifer .”
“Yeah well Lucifer’s an ass so that tracks,” Belphie murmured. It now occurred to him though that he couldn’t fall asleep without answering that question. Damn it. Okay.
Belphie realized that he probably didn’t know enough about Satan to make that kind of decision… Then again, he didn’t know Beel for very long when he knew he loved him. So Belphie made a decision for someone else’s benefit because, honestly, this was the only answer Satan deserved. “Yeah, Tan, I love you.”
Belphie felt his mind quiet and he slipped into sleep.
The next time Belphie saw Satan, he was different. He was cool and collected and talked in quick roundabout ways. He was shockingly intelligent and had a sharp tongue to go with his sharp mind. He never asked Belphie again if he loved him and Belphie knew from the moment he saw him that this would be the case. He wasn’t a kid anymore. Belphie realized he just slept away his brother’s entire childhood.
He got up every day from then on out.