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The Hazbin Hotel is now a booming business.
Most of its guests are tucked into their rooms for the night. The only noises that perforates the calming silence are the odd clinking of Glasses from Husks Bar downstairs. He often stays up very late. Husk appreciates the peace and quiet and is usually up making conversation with Angel Dust over a Drink.
The two have been dating for several months now and are a very happy couple.
Then there is the hushed distant chatter of the odd wayward guest that resonates around the Grand Foyer of the Building. Overall, the evening is still, with bright Stars lighting the Sky above.
Although, they are hard to see due to the immense light pollution from the Entertainment District.
A light breeze seeps through the ornate window of Charlie and Alastors Bedroom. Charlie is deeply asleep in Bed, the duvet pulled all the way up to her goat-like Ears. There was a slight chill in the Air.
Well.
As much of a chill as there could be in Hell. She breathes peacefully, her golden Hair free from its usual black Hair Ties. It spills around her Head and onto her Pillow like a Halo.
The coral highlights of her Hair catch the light of the dim lamp on her Husbands Nightstand. Next to her lay Alastor, wide awake and sat up in Bed. He was dressed in his favourite red pin striped Pyjamas, a beautiful two piece set made from a luxurious red Silk with lighter red stripes running from Collar to Cuff and Waist to Leg.
They were a Gift from Charlie, they were made from the silk of a very rare Moth Larvae native to the Ring of Wrath, a wonderful Gift indeed. He was never one for Pyjamas, or even sleeping for that matter - but the soft Silk felt wonderful against his Skin.
Many things have changed in recent times, including his preference for a good nights sleep.
Alastor reads a Grimoire under the light of his small dim Lamp.
He is thoroughly invested in the book, it has a navy blue Leather binding that feels rough under his Fingertips. The hide of some ungodly Ancient Beast he presumed. “The Importance of Demonic Magic and A History of Power in Hell” the book was titled, in large opulent gold lettering - faded and cracked slightly with age.
The pages of the book were ancient and stained, some pages with Ink blots, some with very old brown Blood.
The book also had some old annotations within its pages. Who wrote them? No one knows.
He would ask himself but even he was unsure. There are no records of who wrote the annotations and why. He had asked Lucifer about them, as stubborn as the King was, Alastor appreciated his knowledge on such subjects.
Him and the King did not get along much at all, but their shared love of Books and Ancient Texts was palpable. Unfortunately for Alastor, Lucifer dismissed him as soon as he knocked on his Door. Much to Alastors chagrin.
Typical.
The old King was proud, there was no doubting that - but even someone as prideful as Alastor could understand that it is his greatest failing.
Lucifer was the original Sin of Pride after all. A Seraphim cast from grace with his love, doomed to see only the wicked in Humanity.
There were several annotations that Lucifer himself had written within the Book. Written in thick golden ink with a Quill, clear as day as the scratching on the Paper made it obvious.
Alastor paid them no mind, he would take the written word of a long gone unknown Deity far before he would acknowledge the writings of his Father-In-Law. Although Alastor isn’t so prideful as to refuse to admit that the King had made some rather interesting and knowledgeable annotations.
Only, Alastor would never admit that out loud.
He has his Monocle tucked up by his right Eye, which was the weaker of the two. He adjusts the thin red oval of Glass as he begins to read a Chapter about Shadow Apparition and its history of use by Demon kind. It was a rather interesting Chapter, it spoke of Ancient Demons who had mastered the art of apparition and used it to their advantage, In both Hell and the Human World.
His concentration is broken by the sudden sound of Footsteps - a light padding across the Floor. Alastor’s Ears perk up as he is broken out of the trance that the Book has on him. His Ears twitch and rotate as they seek to find the source of the noise.
Their Bedroom Door opens slightly. A tiny clawed Hand along with a small Head adorned with Blonde Hair and two Blonde Ears with black coloured peaks pops out from around the Doorframe.
Estelle.
His Daughter. Their Daughter. The heir to the Throne of Hell after her Mother. The Grandchild of the Devil himself. The one Demoness besides Charlie that Lucifer and Alastor could get along for.
Her purple Irises find his red ones. She has her Grandmother Lilith’s Eyes, Lucifer had said as he held her for the first time. Sadly for the King, Estelle had Alastors blood red Scelera. Her Eyes were a beautiful contrast between lilac and red.
Their little Daughter speaks gently “Dad?’’ She asks in a contemplative tone.
“What’s the matter, my little darling?” Alastor speaks in a whisper, afraid to wake her Mother who was sound asleep next to him. He motions for his Daughter to come towards him and up onto the Bed.
Wordlessly the tiny Demoness gently pushes the Door open with a slight creak and gingerly toddles inside, she’s wearing her favourite set of fuzzy baby pink Pyjamas with Rubber Ducks all over. A birthday gift from her Grandfather no doubt.
Alastors gaze shifts to his Daughter’s Hand. She has her Fist closed around something, a pinch of worry creeps into his Skin and under his Diaphragm.
He ignores it.
She hops up on her Parent’s Bed. One tiny red Hoof after the other, her tiny little Legs scrambling to find purchase on the Covers. Her Father lends her an hand with the help of his Magic. Alastor summons a small glowing eldritch Tentacle to give her a leg up onto the Bed. Her Fist still clenched, Alastor braces for whatever she has tucked away in her little clawed Hand.
After getting a helping hand she sits comfortably on the plush mattress next to her Father. “Daddy! I lost my first Tooth!’’ She quietly but excitedly exclaims, her little Blonde and black tufted Deer Tail flicks from side to side out of pure excitement, like the world’s happiest Pom Pom.
She opens her palm and shows her Father.
Alastor takes a brief sigh of relief, his permanent smile faltering slightly - this is new to him.
Worry.
Concern for the wellbeing of others. It was something alien to him before. But since Estelle came into his and Charlie’s world five years ago he has found it within himself to allow these emotions to surface.
Alastor of old would have chastised himself for becoming so weak and spineless. Alastor of new understands that these emotions are normal and natural, and most importantly help him connect with his little Girl and beloved Wife.
Sitting in Estelle’s tiny Palm is her missing Tooth. It is rather big and sharp for such a small thing. Pearly white and pointed at the tip with the slight glint of golden Blood at the top.
“Well, well, my dear. Now that is quite the chomper!’’ Alastor whispers. “Which Tooth did you lose, my darling?” He asks.
The little girl stares up at her Father and opens her Mouth, which is still full of very sharp Teeth - she grins up at him with a big toothy smile to reveal a big gap slap bang at the front of her Mouth. One of her Incisors is missing and in its place sits a large gap right in the centre of her front Teeth.
“My, how very impressive, what a brave little Demoness you are!” Alastor croons.
Estelle beams up at her father dotingly, her big Lavender Eyes full of joy and overcome with praise.
The corners of Alastors blood red Eyes crease and his thin Pupils widen as he gazes at his Daughter. He smiles down at Estelle warmly. “Vini la koté ou Papa, chérie.” ( Come here to your Dad, darling.) Alastor mumbles.
Little Estelle gladly follows her father’s words and she begins to shuffle towards him. “D'accord, Papa!” (Okay, Dad!) She sings back. Alastor’s smile widens as he gently lifts his Daughter into his arms and sits her in his Lap.
After getting comfortable in her father’s lap. She turns and looks at the book he is reading. “What book is this daddy? I’ve not seen it on my bookshelf?” Estelle asks delicately. Alastor chuckles, Estelle has many bedtime stories on her bookshelf, such as The Ugly Duckling, The Very Very Hungry Caterpillar and her personal favourite Goldilocks and The Three Hellbears.
But nothing quite of this caliber. Still gripping her new loose tooth in one hand, her other hand skims over the tattered pages. An old book indeed - one her father had borrowed from her grandfather Lucifer’s library much to his irritation.
“This book, my little Deer, is a written History of the different types of Power that Demons in have Hell possessed.” Alastor states. “Demons through out the history of Hell have acquired specific powers over the millenniums of Hells existence, this book answers some of the mysteries of specific Demonic powers, such as Human possession and Soul ownership.”
Estelle looks up at her father and back to the book pages with a twinkle of enlightenment in her eye. Her father is reading about shadow apparition, on the page opposite the text there is an ancient illustration showing a powerful Demon using its shadow to kill its foes in combat.
Just like her dad, she too has this ability.
Alastor was giddy when she first demonstrated her ability to warp shadows, just like him. Part of him was so proud of her, as she had achieved that power at such a young age. It had taken him several years to master his shadow, to get it to do his bidding and will, yet here is his small little darling demonstrating that power so young.
Unbelievable.
Both Alastor and Charlie knew that their daughter would be powerful. But how powerful they were not yet sure. She is only five years old, she has plenty of time to grow into her powers and to learn how to harness them.
Both parents acknowledge that she will need guidance to correctly use these powers, Alastor has plans to begin teaching his daughter when she turns eight years old.
This is essential in Estelle’s development, Powers such as shadow warping can be very dangerous if not executed correctly
Estelle shifts in Alastors lap.
The little fawn looks up at her father and speaks “S-Sometimes.” Estelle stutters. She anxiously begins fidgeting with the tooth in her hand. Alastor looks down at his daughter encouragingly, urging her to continue.
“Me and my shadow steal sweets from the kitchen when no one is looking.” Estelle looks up at her father with fear in her eyes.
Alastor gazes at his daughter and snorts through his nose - he realises that she thinks he is upset at her. “You sneaky little devil!’’ He chides jokingly.
Estelle giggles and covers her mouth. “I won’t tell your mother my dear, you can be sure of that.” Alastor reassures. Estelle giggles again and starts to tell her father about how her and her shadow play hopscotch and build pillow forts together.
Suddenly Charlie stirs quietly next to Alastor, shifting in her sleep - Alastor gently shushes Estelle and looks over at his wife.
Wife.
Good grief.
After all these years Alastor still struggles to comprehend that fact. His Charlie. His strong, Capable partner that changed the idea of Hell and its eternal punishment herself. Well, mostly herself - the only credit he can take is the naming of the hotel. The rest is all her and her unbreakable spirit.
She was right all along, souls can be redeemed. People laughed at her, mocked her and called her a failure and yet she persevered. Alastor used to think that this was pure unfiltered entertainment, he would laugh at her resistance to the opinion of the majority.
Until the day he stopped laughing.
At all of it. Her. The Hotel. Her dream.
It became inspiring, admirable - even attractive.
So that’s when it’s started.
Alastor doesn’t regret a thing, he let himself fall for her and it didn’t matter if he hurt himself in the fall, it would be for her. All for her.
Only her.
Charlie had reciprocated those feelings, with time she recognised that Alastor supported her like no one else could. But she can take care of herself - he knows this, and she does too.
It was all her, standing up to Vox, standing up to heaven. Telling people that she was right - and she was, she knew she was. Her Compassion. It was like a drug to him.
She was so radiant like this, fast asleep - she looked truly angelic, which made sense, she was half Seraphim after all. Her beautiful blonde hair that fell past her waist, her Pearlescent skin. The adorable red circles on her cheeks that their incredible daughter had inherited. Her scarlet eyes that reminded Alastor of Hellfire - burning with her resolve.
Beautiful.
He contemplates waking her to show her their daughter’s little milestone, but decides against it.
He will encourage their daughter to tell her mother about her tooth in the morning, Charlie has been so busy with her job at the Hotel that she needs her sleep, the Hotel has been so busy the past few years. So much paperwork and progress files to sort.
They would both stay up late some nights and sort through it all over a bottle of wine, taking breaks to check in on Estelle while she slept. Alastor leaves her be and continues to entertain their daughter on his own.
Going back to his daughter, he explains what he’s reading to his little girl to the best of his ability.
Alastor continues to read the archaic bedtime story to his daughter, being careful not to wake Charlie.
They reach a chapter detailing the various first Overlords of Hell. Alastor was well versed in his Overlord history, it being one of his favourite reading materials. Sometimes taking inspiration in their cunning and schemes.
Suddenly Estelle lets out a large yawn, her tiny fangs and big tooth gap on full display. Alastor can feel his daughter becoming heavy in his arms. Estelle can feel her eyelids succumbing to their own weight and she starts to drift off to sleep.
He continues to read his book to her for a bit longer, fishing the chapter he was reading. He wanted to make sure she was asleep - she has had difficulty sleeping in the past when she was younger. After finishing what was left of the next chapter, He takes notice that his daughter had drifted off peacefully.
He slowly moves to reach the purple ribbon bookmark attached to the back of the book. He places it in the page that they had read to so that he can pick up where he left off tomorrow night. Alastor quietly shuts the book as to not wake the little girl who is fast asleep in his arms and his darling wife to his side.
He places it on his nightstand, removes his monocle and places it alongside the book. Alastor turns off the small dim lamp - leaving the room in darkness. A blood red hue from the Hellish red moon spills in from the gaps in the long velvet curtains and illuminates the bedroom slightly.
He gently settles into bed with his wife and daughter, protectively placing his daughter in between himself and Charlie, wrapping the covers around her to keep her warm.
He glances over at both his wife and little daughter, thinking to himself about how far they had come, his marriage to Charlie and how their daughter was even possible given the fact that he is a sinner and his wife is demon royalty.
Technically Estelle shouldn’t exist.
He had read so many books regarding demonic child rearing and had come to learn that Estelle’s very existence is the first of its kind. A child spawned between a Sinner Overlord, a former Human and a member of Hellborn Hellish Royalty. Not just any Royalty, the Heir to the throne of Hell - Charlie Morningstar.
Estelle has always struggled with sleep. Ever since she was a tiny baby, helpless in the world around her. She would always settle when either Charlie or Alastor were nearby - or when they would hold her, but it wouldn’t be for long. Eventually the dam would burst, her tiny fists would ball up and she would cry incessantly.
He remembers those late nights when he and Charlie would take shifts, holding her and rocking her desperately trying to get her to sleep, he remembers singing to her quietly, sometimes in Creole French. One night he would sing a Creole lullaby that his mother used to sing to him to Estelle. He remembers that night vividly.
——————
Estelle would not settle. Charlie had asked Alastor to take her and try to calm her. His poor little babe. Alastor scooped his tiny angry bundle from her cot and began rocking her slowly.
That did not work.
He tuned into his Radio Static to mimic white noise.
Nothing.
Only more tears fell from her tiny red cheeks.
Then it hit him. The song his mother would sing to him as a child when he was upset, he began quietly, swaying with Estelle to the hum of the lullaby.
Then he started to sing.
“Fais dodo, mo l'aime mo ti chère,
Fais dodo, dodo sans douleur.
Fais dodo, mo l'aime mo ti chère,
Fais dodo, dodo sans douleur.
Maw-Maw gain gateaux,
Paw-Paw gain bonbons
Yé donne sa à toi,
Si bébé dodo.
Fais dodo, mo l'aime mo ti chère,
Fais dodo, dodo sans douleur.
Fais dodo, mo l'aime mo ti chère,
Fais dodo, dodo sans douleur.
Fais dodo, la lune dans le ciel-la
Fais dodo, li brille pour toi.
Fais dodo, la lune dans le ciel-la.
Fais dodo, dodo jist pour moi.
Maw-Maw gain gateaux,
Paw-Paw gain bonbons
Yé donne sa à toi,
Si bébé dodo.
Fais dodo, la lune dans le ciel-la
Fais dodo, li brille pour toi.
Fais dodo, la lune dans le ciel-la.
Fais dodo, dodo jist pour moi.”
Her crying settled. Estelle let out tiny whimpers, the calmness rolled in waves felt by father and daughter. Alastor turned to the doorway of Estelle’s room, to see Charlie standing in the doorway with a very tired but satisfied smile painted across her rosy cheeks.
Charlie quietly tiptoed over to her husband and newborn daughter and gently lifted Estelle from Alastors arms. She laid the baby in her cot and rocked her gently until Estelle’s whimpers ceased, and she finally fell asleep.
Silence.
Both parents let out an exhausted sigh as they watched over Estelle in her crib. Charlie had risen from her daughters bedside and lovingly rested her head onto Alastor’s shoulder.
Relief at last.
Soon after Alastor opened the door for Charlie, allowing her to exit Estelle’s bedroom first. He then carefully shut the intricately carved door behind them both.
———————
He remembered that like it was yesterday.
He recalls other times when he would play soft slow Jazz music on his Phonograph, but to no avail - Charlie had told him that certain sounds and music can settle upset babies, but their little one seemed to be unaffected and would continue to cry until the red sun rose.
He remembers how tired Charlie had been at that time in Estelle’s life. Sleeping for two hours a night if she was lucky, he was less affected as he was never one to sleep at all in his afterlife, seeing it as weakness. Sleep makes you vulnerable and pitiful he always thought, and The Radio Demon was most certainly neither of those things.
Unfortunately for him, karma had bitten him firmly on his behind as he found himself completely drained raising a child, and sleep was now a most welcome friend. Though he still tries to sleep only if he has to. He will make an exception if he has Charlie by his side.
He ponders if he has rubbed off on his daughter more than he would like, as his own sleep habits are still known to be rather terrible.
Alastor knows that Estelle is at a point in her life where she can sleep on her own. She has her bedroom full of toys, books and her little toddler bed. It’s a crucial step in a child’s development Charlie had said. He agrees. But he still carries a soft spot that lets his daughter sleep with her Mother and Father on occasion, especially if she has had a bad dream.
He reminisces about the day she was born and how happy, but scared he was to become a father. The minute she was placed in his arms he knew what he had to do - but struggled to learn how to do it.
He thinks of Charlie, and how much she had helped and guided him during his first years of fatherhood - she had researched so much about babies and pregnancy to make sure she did everything right, but doing research and being book smart is one thing, unfortunately putting that knowledge into practice with a child is far more difficult than it seems.
Alastor thinks about his childhood, and how happy his daughter is in hers. How he plays with her and “teaches’’ her how to cook on the stove, allowing her to stand on her little duckling embellished step stool, which was another birthday gift from her grandfather, to stir the big pot of Seafood Gumbo that he cooks occasionally and had been preparing for the past few hours, with his supervision of course, and how important it was for him to be apart of her life.
He recalls the times when he catches her speaking little words of Creole French, especially when she has tea parties with her stuffed animals. Asking them if they would like some more tea in their cup with her little Louisiana lilt.
His heart swells with pride and joy at that.
He recalls watching her play by the Grand Fireplace. Upon the tiny little brightly coloured plastic stools sat around a small plastic table there were many of her plush toys. Her favourite “Mister Tiger” was sat next to her, along with Miss Elephant and Mr Hellbear.
Alastor was sat crouched awkwardly on one of the stools next to Estelle, his long limbs pulled into his body. “Konbyen plis te ou ta renmen, Misye Tiger?” (“How much more tea would you like, Mister Tiger?”) Estelle asked her inanimate fluffy friend as she poured some invisible tea into his cup.
Alastor almost choked on his imaginary coffee. Looking over at his daughter and then back down at the small blue plastic cup and saucer in his hand.
Alastor then remembers how his own father had been abusive towards his mother, but despite it all his mother was the light of his life. She treated him like any good mother should and raised him well.
Estelle was named after his dear mother after all.
He would never be like his father. And he would never forget the things his mother had taught him. In turn he wouldn’t forget her struggles either.
With that thought in his head, he kisses Estelle on her forehead, she stirs and smiles in her sleep. “Bonswa, ti bambi mwen.” (Goodnight, my little Fawn.) He whispers.
He summons his shadow to do the same to Charlie, so as not to wake them both, his spectre silently and carefully caresses her jawline and plants a small kiss to the red circle of her cheek.
she smiles in her sleep, too.
Adorable.
Like mother like daughter.
He gently takes the tooth from his daughters little hand and summons a small cushioned maroon box, engraved with elegant antlers and burgundy Garnet gemstones. He places the tooth inside the small container and sets it on the nightstand next to his grimoire and monocle.
He gets comfortable in bed, turning to curl around his little family.
He begins to drift off into a deep, well earned sleep.
”Yes.” Alastor thinks, “Everything will be just fine.”