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One of the first things Alastor had done after the initial rebuilding of the now upgraded Hazbin Hotel was to recreate his penthouse suite just the way he liked it, complete with an extension to a new and improved radio station. Most of the inhabitants of the hotel found it tacky, but it was his quarters, so what could they do besides tolerate his eccentricities?
Standing in Alastor’s penthouse now, Charlie can start to understand why Husk and Vaggie complain whenever they have to go try and search for Alastor.
There are many, many doors in Alastor's room. There's the door to his walk-in freezer— convenience made tangible— a door that deposits the visitor to wherever they need to be most desperately, AKA Niffty’s door, the door to the bayou room, the door to the back of Husker’s bar…
The point is, out of all the doors in Alastor's room, there was only one that was locked. Charlie squints at it as she walks by, like she always does: it's a sort of weird little routine by now, one that’s had months of refining.
Her dad too looks at the door briefly before Charlie pulls him away from it, guiding them deeper into the seemingly depthless penthouse.
“Uh, Al? Alastor…?” Charlie steps up to the door leading to his radio station, “Are you in there? We kinda need you for something!”
When she gets no answer, Lucifer steps up to the door instead, his eyes darkening with impatience. “Hey, Radio Demon! Get your ass up, we don’t have all day! There’s two hostiles outside asking for you!”
Again, no answer.
“Could he be outside…?” Charlie muses. She looks around the penthouse— there’s nothing particularly out of place. There’s still the same faint blue-green glow from his bayou room, the door propped open by a stopper. The door that she knows houses most of his little shadow puppet creatures has the same rickety old rocking chair propped outside of it, keeping it close. And the locked door still has that weird, unfamiliar aura emanating from behind it as it always does.
“I mean… we didn’t ask Niffty yet, did we? We should probably go to see if she knows anything. Or maybe he’s with Rosie? I know they’re good friends, so…”
“Well, you know him better than me,” Lucifer shrugs.
He seems nonplussed by Alastor’s seeming disappearance into thin air, but Charlie supposes she can’t really be that surprised. “Here, I can go and settle down our guests while you go to search for the busboy. How’s that sound?”
“That’d be great, dad,” Charlie smiles gratefully. “Just, um… they are Angel’s employers, so, um, don’t be too… uh, you know.”
“Don’t be too ‘His Majesty, King of Hell’ Lucifer, got it,” Lucifer nods. “Don’t worry, Char-Char, your dear ol’ daddy’s got this in the bag! You can go ahead and hunt down that venison with no worries, ‘kay?”
“Riiight,” Charlie replies awkwardly. “I will. Thanks, dad!”
When Charlie leaves the penthouse— one that, in Lucifer’s opinion, honestly shouldn’t have been built at all, he drops the smile.
The energy in Alastor’s room is, for whatever reason, far too oppressing even for an Overlord of his strength.
He glances at the locked door, noting the weird scent of ozone— a sickly sweet, strawberry slash burnt electronics smell that makes his nose sting and burn the more time he spends smelling it— and the scent of electricity emanating from behind the door. It’s unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and the strangeness of the scent combination makes his skin crawl. Literally.
Lucifer cringes away from the doorway, careful not to get too close to it as he leaves the penthouse suite. The scent of the magic energy surrounding that door, one that smelled closely of apples and perilla mint was familiar enough to remind him of his time in Eden— and paired with whatever it was that laid beyond that door, made for a very effective deterrent to the King of Hell.
Whatever that freaky Radio Demon was doing in here, Lucifer’s sure it’s not anything he wants his daughter getting mixed up into.
When Lucifer finally enters the hotel lobby, he’s met with two of the Pride Ring Overlords— a doll and a moth sinner, both who swivel in his direction when they sense his approach with agitated and panicked expressions. He’s not familiar with who they are, which means they’re probably among the younger Overlords of the city. Then again, he’s not particularly familiar with any of the Overlords, except perhaps Carmilla Carmine and Zestial, owing to the fact that they were the only two he had contact with before his major bouts of depression confined him to the Palace.
“Good day, Your Majesty,” the moth sinner starts with a stilted tone, looking seconds away from shedding his normal sinner form and transforming into his full demon form, “Do you happen to know where the Radio Demon is?”
Lucifer blinks, caught off guard by the other’s aggressiveness.
He turns to look at the smaller sinner by the moth’s side, and notices that she too looks incredibly unhinged— unless her normal sinner form was just That Way to begin with, which he doubts, because he doesn’t typically see sinners spawn with three inch long needle-like teeth and winding yarn like hair with several eyes peeking out from beneath her tresses.
Which means that whatever the damn bellhop has done, he’s pissed off two other Overlords.
Who also happen to be the bosses of one of Charlie’s friends and also possibly reign over other regions in the Pride Ring.
Just fucking great.
Lucifer sighs internally even as he grabs ahold of both sinners, not giving either a chance to protest against the manhandling treatment. “I don’t know where that guy is, but I know he’s not going to be back for a little bit— or at least until Charlie drags him back, so for now, calm yourselves and put your normal faces back on before you start scaring off potential clients.”
“Potential clients?” The doll rasps this time, her one visible eye twitching with aggression.
Her teeth still haven’t gone back to normal, but the eyes in her hair are slowly being swallowed up by the carefully styled tresses of hair returning back to normal. “Potential fucking clients, huh? If the princess’ treatment is so important to her, why the fuck is she keeping around someone like that fucking Radio Bastard around?! What kind of clown motel do you think you’re running here, ya foul-faced cunt—?!”
“Mi muñequita,” the moth sinner starts, a fragrant pink smoke billowing around him with every word he speaks, making Lucifer scrunch his nose up in disgust at the unfamiliar scent, “I’m sure that His Majesty is… blissfully unaware, let’s say, of the sorts of things his daughter’s sponsor gets up to in his free time. In fact, I think we should… lend our support here for when the Radio Demon gets back. Just to make sure he doesn’t do anything bad when we need to talk to him, right?”
Lucifer blinks at the two of them as the doll sinner and moth sinner lock eyes, seemingly having a silent conversation before the demoness sighs and— finally— retracts her needle like teeth, returning to something that looks much more human than any of the other sinners Lucifer’s seen in Hell.
“Right… sorry about my indiscretion, your Majesty,” she apologizes. The harsh glare of her eyes says otherwise, though. “My name is Velvette, this is Valentino. We’re two of the Overlords of the Entertainment District— the Vees, that is, and until the Radio Demon returns, I’m afraid that we may have to take up some space in your… quaint little hotel lobby.” That last part she speaks with a sneer, clearly disregarding the design of the Hazbin Hotel.
“My daughter’s hotel lobby,” Lucifer corrects. “But sure. I do… need to make sure of something, though— I heard from Charlie that you two were her friend’s bosses…?”
“Oh, no, your Majesty, I am Angel’s employer,” Valentino grins, baring his teeth in a way that makes Lucifer wonder if he’s trying to go in for a messy makeout session or if he’s trying to rip him apart with his teeth. Though his words are flat and polite, the snarl he speaks with speaks to his true feelings.
“Don’t worry though, I won’t bother Angie. As mis corazones have reminded me plenty of times, I have no jurisdiction over la putita unless he’s in my studios, and he’s on a vacation sched right now. The only one I’ve got a bone to pick with is the Radio Demon.”
Lucifer narrows his eyes, but he nods anyway. “Fair enough. Can’t say I like the little busboy much either— if you’re here to knock him down a peg, I won’t interfere.”
With that, he turns around and starts to lead them to the lobby, now renovated to look like the lounge of a 1920s themed luxury hotel, complete with a completely refurbished alcohol bar for the little cat demon running it and a little conversation pit instead of a regular seating setup. When they arrive, Velvette and Valentino plant themselves down on the couches and start to talk quietly. It’s really no use— Lucifer can hear whatever they say no matter how quiet they keep, but he supposes he appreciates the need for discretion.
“Fuckin’ figures that cunt’d find a way to get on King Morningstar’s bad side too. I want to stick a buncha needles into his fuckin’ skin and pull them out one by one,” Velvette sneers derisively. “When he gets here, I’m going to pull him limb from limb til he tells us where the Hell he took Vox.”
“Don’t be rash, Vel,” Valentino responds.
Compared to the way he was acting before, now the Overlord sounds eerily calm. Lucifer scowls at the reminder of just how… inhuman the residents down here can get. He’d spent so much time around Charlie and her friends that he’d forgotten just how insufferable the general populace was.
The moth demon continues, “Voxxy can get the first pick of what he wants from the game prize.”
…Aaaand that’s referring to the Radio Demon, no doubt, Lucifer sighs.
He pulls his attention away from the conversation— as much as he’d love to hear more, he knows that if he listens in on a conversation deliberately plotting to take his daughter’s sponsor out of the picture, he’ll have to answer to her next as to why he didn’t stop it. Sometimes, blissful ignorance truly was just superior. Instead, he turns his awareness over to Angel and Husk, who are quietly whispering over at the bar and shooting looks over at the two Overlords quietly conversing in the conversation pit.
“What the fuck is up with Val?” Lucifer hears Angel hiss to Husker, eyes flicking back and forth between where Lucifer stands and where the two Vees sit. “I’ve never seen that guy like this before.”
“Isn’t it better that he’s not acting how he usually does?”
Husk peers back over at the moth demon, whose foggy pink smoke is beginning to spread in the conversation pit area. “Or is that just ‘cause he’s gonna get worse later on?”
“Well fuckin’ duh, he’s definitely going to get worse later,” Angel sounds concerned. “I mean, usually when Val gets mad he gets like, super pissy too an’ starts destroyin’ shit ‘round the set and in his clubs, but like, usually Vox can calm him down. Problem is, where the Hell is that guy? I haven’t seen ‘im round the Tower for like, a month or two now. That ain’t normal.”
“What, so you mean he just up and left?”
“No, but like… he hasn’t been seen ‘in public’ for like, two months now. It’s startin’ to get suspicious.”
Lucifer blinks as he takes in this information— Vox, the Media Overlord, had been missing for two months? He didn’t really keep up to date on who was living in his Ring, but even he knew of Vox— the sinner had managed to carve a spot for himself in just about every niche possible. All the electricity, cable, streaming services— you name it, he provided it. It was practically insane how widespread that guy’s influence spread. And now… he’d disappeared? It didn’t make sense.
Husk passes Angel a drink, which he takes gratefully. “Like, I ‘unno if I’m just paranoid or something, but… Vox is like, the fuckin’ face of Hell’s Entertainment District. When he’s not round for a bit, that’s nothing to worry about on its own… but when he’s not round for a bit an’ Val and Velvette are creeping around, looking for his rival…? I mean… the dots are connecting. If Al did something…”
“If Vox was dead, we would know.”
“I’m not saying he’s dead, Whiskers. But I mean… well, whatever Mister Creepy Talk Show Host did to his other victims—”
“He wouldn’t do that to Vox, Angel,” Husk sighs. Angel gives him a confused look, and Husk just shrugs. “It’s difficult to explain. But if Al had something to do with Vox’s disappearance, then chances are Vox is completely fine. Better than fine, probably.”
Angel squints at the former Overlord. “Husky… wait, don’t tell me…?”
“I’m not gonna say anything,” Husk sighs again, staring down at the glass he’s polishing with a mile-long stare. “Think what you wanna think, but whatever it is you think they’re doing, you’re gonna be wrong.”
As enthralling that their conversation was, Lucifer has to pull away from the two hotel residents’ conversation when he notices the doll sinner sitting next to Valentino disappear seemingly into thin air. “Hey, hold on– weren’t there two of you before?”
“Mmm.” Valentino takes a drag of a pipe that Lucifer hadn’t noticed him bringing into the building before, exhaling a breath of that disgustingly sweet and cloying pink smoke again, before he pulls himself up to his true height, insectoid legs lengthening as his now razor-sharp heels scrape on the floor.
“You’re right, your Majesty— the babydoll’s already gone out to start our friendly conversation with your little busboy. La princessa should be with him already, so you should probably come and collect her Highness before Vel gets her needles out.”
The next second, Valentino is gone in a cloud of pink smoke, and Lucifer is rushing out to the front of the Hotel, intent on getting to Charlie before she gets caught in the Overlord’s crossfire.
“Well, I mean, I don’t mean to make any trouble for you, of course, Miss Rosie, but I’d like to know if you’ve seen Alastor anywhere? Um, there’s kind of been an emergency back at the Hotel that he needs to be here for, and, I was thinking you could help…” Charlie fiddles with her fingers nervously as she sits in Rosie’s parlour, glancing around at the other guests to see if she can spot Alastor’s iconic figure to no avail. “But— but obviously, it’s no problem if you don’t know where he is either!”
“Oh, come now dearie, you know that Al’s here already, don’t you?” Rosie picks up a teacup from her saucer, taking a light sip before she sets it down once more and brushes off her dress.
She flashes a grin at Charlie, beckoning for her with one razor-sharp black nail.
“Come follow me— he’s been readying a gift for his beau, see, and he’s been so very picky about it— you know, I love that man, but he truly is so inexplicable sometimes! He tells me that I’m being irrational with my design choices when I say a rosebud is a shade off of the perfect red, but now, when his designs are even a stroke off, he tears into my best artisans! Literally. If it weren’t for his wonderful company, I daresay I may have eaten my dear friend by now!”
Rosie chuckles at the way that Charlie blanches at her words, “Only jokes, of course, dearie. I don’t eat my friends, and Alastor would only agree to be consumed by his beau anyway. More’s the pity, I say, but oh well— it’s hardly any skin off my back.”
“R-right…” Charlie chuckles nervously. “Um, wait, what do you mean by beau?”
“Oh, did Alastor not tell you?” Rosie turns around with a perplexed expression on her face. “I swear, sometimes it seems as if all he talks about is his dearest muse. Not that I blame him— that delightful young man is truly such a delight to be around, even if their preferred form of foreplay is destroying several blocks of the city streets… Ah, here we are! Alastor, sweetie, the Princess wants to see you!”
“Just one moment, my dear!” Charlie hears a frantic rustling inside the room before Alastor opens the door carefully, looking oddly ruffled. “Charlie, Rosie! To what do I owe the pleasure, hmm?”
“Oh, well, it’s nothing really, just hotel business…” Charlie starts, giving an awkward grin to Alastor, who peers at her with an odd expression. “Uh. You kind of have. Visitors. From the Vee’s district…?”
“Ah,” Alastor sighs. “I was wondering when they would come knocking. Ah, well— I suppose things can’t have gone smoothly forever… Do you need me back on the Hotel premises immediately, or do I have a bit of leeway?”
Charlie’s face scrunches up tightly. “We kind of need you, like, as soon as you can be back. Since, you know, Angel’s boss is here, and he’s kind of an asshole…”
“Ah, yes. Valentino. I’d almost managed to push all thought of that annoying insect out of my mind. I’ll be back in just a moment, then. There’s still something I just need to make sure of…” Alastor says, turning around to go back into the room he’d entered.
“Oh, come now, Alastor, don’t be so uptight! I’ll take care of it, you just go back and manage the details with the in-laws, yes?” Rosie pinches the shorter Overlord’s cheek, her tinkling laughter echoing around the spacious hallway when Alastor bats her hand away with an irritable expression. “Really, I’ll make sure everything goes just dandy. No need for concern, my dear! Just leave it all to me. I’ll ensure you two can middle-aisle it without even a hitch!”
“…It isn’t like that, but fine,” Alastor closes his eyes with a defeated expression. “I’ll come to pick it up sometime before evening. Or if I find myself… otherwise preoccupied, the clambake will come in my place.”
“Alastor! What have I said about calling that lovely little gentleman such rude names?” Rosie chides, frowning at her friend with a playful sort of strictness. “I’ll keep an eye out for your shadow, dear, but please. You must learn to be more polite while addressing him! Kindness may be a virtue, but that’s surely no reason to lose your decorum with your own servant, of all things.”
“I’ll be more polite to him when he stops trying to take what’s mine,” Alastor’s grin tightens before he turns to Charlie. “Anyways. Charlie, dear, shall we depart now?”
“Oh! Yeah, yeah, let’s go!”
The walk back to the Hotel through Cannibal Town is more or less uneventful, but there are questions stewing around in Charlie’s mind as Alastor greets the residents of the Cannibal Town with a familiarity that Charlie herself lacks.
What did Rosie mean by beau? Or in-laws? Did Alastor have a secret lover of some sort that he was keeping hidden from the rest of the hotel? And what was it that he was so worried about getting ‘right’?
“Charlie, dear, you look like you’re turning red from the effort of not prying into my business,” Alastor interrupts her thoughts with a sharp remark, not looking in her direction even as he loops his arm around hers to drag her away from accidentally stepping in a disemboweled corpse left unceremoniously out on the street. “Do tell, what did Rosie say that interested you so?”
“I—! I don’t mean to pry or anything, I mean, I was just curious because I didn’t think you’d ever, um, get a beau or um, a partner or anything of the sort, so I was just wondering…”
“Who it was?” Alastor finishes for her. At Charlie’s awkward nod, the Overlord simply shrugs. “We agreed not to… talk about it much in public. Maybe sometime in the future, I might introduce you, under certain circumstances.”
“Really?” Charlie blinks at the other, before breaking out into a big smile. “Omigosh, I’ve been waiting for this for forever, just the fact that you’ve got a lover means that maybe our goal isn’t impossible at all, since if even an Overlord as powerful as you can fall in l—”
“I think that’s enough, my dear.” Alastor says sharply, cutting Charlie off in the middle of her rambling speech. “I said it was a possibility, not a certainty.”
“Still, it’s wonderful that you’ve managed to find such a match even here in Hell!” Charlie gushes, eyes sparkling.
She turns to him with a big grin, “I mean, there’s been plenty of sinner-sinner relationships before, obviously, like, I think Husk and Angel might be one of them next, but it’s so rare to find an Overlord who’s opened up their heart to someone else! Alastor, I’m so happy for you two!”
“You’re acting as if we’ve gone through with a marriage ceremony already,” Alastor says. “I do thank you for the congratulations, Charlie, but it hasn’t yet progressed to a point of celebration. At least, not yet.”
“Will you let me know when it does?”
Charlie tilts her head in a way not unlike a confused child, and Alastor stifles a sigh as he regards the Princess of Hell. How that insufferable fallen angel churned out someone like Charlotte Morningstar, he would never know. “If the occasion is right.”
The rest of the journey back to the hotel, Alastor tunes out Charlie’s excited ramblings about his relationship prospects and how she’s ‘so excited to show the Hotel residents that Alastor is just as human as they are’, whatever that’s supposed to mean. At two hundred years old, she’s still acting just like an overexcited toddler. Still, at the very least, he supposes it’s at least a welcome interaction: much more so than the confrontation that he knows he’s in for when they near the Hotel.
“I see the guests have already made themselves at home,” Alastor sighs as he nears the Hotel, spying the large cloud of pink smoke that trails in and out of the building crevasses. Vox had told him once about the moth demon’s true form— apparently, it was a form that he most loathed using, despite its formidable power, all because of its perceived ‘ugliness’. It was truly a pity— not Valentino feeling humble for once, no, never that— but the fact that Alastor would never be able to truly fight the other one-on-one because of his own moral failings.
He’d wanted to swat that damn bug out of existence the first time he’d seen him beside Vox, the two of them smiling and laughing together over something inane— and yet.
Even fighting, much less killing someone so much weaker than him didn’t feel like a victory to him. It didn’t feel like he’d made a point. Vox’s association with someone so weak would never be a threat to the both of them, so what would the point be in killing Valentino? It would only indicate that Alastor had something to fear in the stability of their relationship. Which he didn’t.
So for as long as Valentino stayed in his regular sinner form, Alastor would never truly be able to show the full extent of his hatred for the other Overlord.
But right now…
A grin curls on his lips as he looks over the new and improved Hazbin Hotel, its glowing lights shining brightly even through the haze of thick pink smoke. Charlie coughs as they approach, waving a hand in front of her face in a futile attempt to clear the air.
“Oh, god. This smells so bad— what’s going on in there?” Charlie asks nervously, glancing around and flailing around uselessly before she manages to find and latch onto Alastor’s arm with a maddeningly tight grip, attempting to use him to guide her way through Valentino’s smoke.
Alastor simply shrugs and strides forwards with the confidence befitting an Overlord like himself, “It seems that we’re going to find ourselves in the midst of… less than polite company in just a moment.”
As if on cue, a blurry figure jumps up in front of them, her gaping maw open wide in a caricature of a smile.
Alastor manages to maneuver the both of them out of the way before Velvette’s needle-like teeth snap shut, an action no doubt meant to take out one or more of Alastor’s limbs. The rest of her body rises from the ground with an unnatural elasticity, Velvette stretching her ragdoll parts with contortionist capabilities before she opens her mouth wide again, giving a crooning cry before she launches herself forwards.
Charlie screams as Alastor raises the both of them up into the air by his tentacles, just barely avoiding the Overlord beneath them, who screams before disappearing into the ground and reappearing mid-air, reaching for both of them with too-long arms and too-sharp claws.
“Now, now, Miss Velvette, I’m sure we can talk this out—” Alastor starts, raising his voice to be heard over Charlie’s terrified screaming as he ducks and dodges around the other Overlord’s enraged attacks.
With each swipe and scratch Velvette makes, the smoke seems to grow thicker as more and more property damage builds up around the outside of the Hotel. It’s almost comparable to the final Extermination they’d had just months ago— Alastor isn’t sure whether he should be proud for managing to bring out such a feral form in a usually composed Overlord like Velvette or pissed at the fact that he’s going to be the one to have to clean up the mess afterward.
“What is it that you’re so upset about? Surely, you can at least find it in yourself to calm down and hold a proper conversation?”
When Velvette replies, it’s in a horrible, rattling voice that sounds nothing like the composed and suave Fashion Overlord that most of Hell’s Pride Ring is familiar with. The closest thing Alastor can think to compare her with is untuned piano strings, a scratchy, unrefined screech that sounds closer to a banshee’s screams than music.
She takes another swipe at the both of them— Charlie being draped over Alastor’s back in an unceremonious fireman’s carry and Alastor awkwardly balancing her and his cane atop a tentacle— before screeching, “What is there to talk about, Radio Demon?! You fucking kidnapped Vox, you obsessive deer freak! Give him back to us, or I’ll rend you chin to taint and turn your skin into a dress!”
“What the Hell did you do, Alastor?!” Charlie has to yell louder as Velvette starts to scream and wail again, Alastor scrunching one eye shut in displeasure at the cacophony of noises.
“Well, it’s never fun to interact with your in-laws, is it?” Alastor rolls his eyes as he dodges Velvette’s ill-aimed strike once more, launching back one of his own attacks with a tentacle that she simply rips apart with inhuman strength, screaming louder as she dashes forward again.
He scans their surroundings for any sign of Valentino— still no— and internally sighs. It’s no fun just fighting off one of them: the power of the Vees laid in their companions. He’d once mentioned to Vox the pointlessness of gathering allies weaker than himself, and the other had simply said that it wasn’t their power that made him keep them around, but their company.
Company? Well, look at how that turned out— turns out, Alastor was more than enough for him.
“...In-laws?” While he’d been contemplating the futility of fighting Velvette outside instead of just dragging the girl to the ground and forcing her to listen to what he had to say, it seemed that Charlie had come to a realization. “Wait, wait, but she said— but- but— does that mean you’re— is Vox—?”
“Yes, Charlie. Do keep up, my dear.”
“But– but I thought the two of you—?” Charlie cuts herself off with yet another scream when Velvette manages to catch Alastor by surprise, snatching him around the ankle and making him nearly drop Charlie before straightening the both of them. He narrows his eyes, calculating just how much he really needs the limb, but before either of them can react, the thick pink smoke suddenly grows as a grotesque, monstrous figure emerges from the open doors of the Hotel.
“Ah, Valentino,” Alastor grins. “I was wondering when you would arrive.”
Looking at him now, it isn’t hard to see why the moth sinner detests his true form.
He’s tall, but not that tall— rather, Alastor’s actually rather sure that he’s at least a couple dozen feet shorter than his own true form (and Vox’s, at that. Yet another wonder why his companion would ever choose either Valentino or Velvette over his own company.)
But the rest of Valentino’s appearance makes up for it: the beauty that the sinner values and flaunts is instead replaced with an overly insectoid face, two large eyes with multiple teeth replacing the long eyelashes the other Overlord regularly pastes onto his lower lashline to cover his own insecurities. Two slits in his face, one vertical and one horizontal, presumably meant to be his nose and mouth, respectively, pulse with every step the other takes, his long, spindle-like legs digging ditches into the ground as he approaches them.
The smoke around them grows thicker, ensconcing Alastor and Charlie in thick, vice-like grips.
But Alastor has never been one to give up his prey easily.
He wrenches his foot out of Velvette’s tight grip, the other Overlord holding onto it so tightly that she ends up tearing his leg slightly. Charlie’s face grows even whiter than usual when she sees the broken bone ligament and red blood dripping down his leg, but Alastor remains unaffected.
“I suppose this means it’s time to properly begin our conversation?” His limbs lengthen as he cackles in the face of Valentino and Velvette’s twin enraged expressions, both of them lunging for him even as he swerves away gracefully, letting out a satisfied sigh once his transformation is finally complete. He hoists Charlie onto his head, where she frantically grabs onto his antlers before he stands up, towering above the other two overlords with his lips curved into a mimicry of a smile, back arched unnaturally and opening his mouth to prepare to feast—
“Hey! I don’t care what the fuck you all decide to do out here, whether it’s beat each other to death or not, but leave my daughter out of it!”
In a way not unlike a tiny, buzzing fly makes itself known by flying directly into your ear canal and getting stuck, King Lucifer Morningstar bursts out of the front entrance of the Hazbin Hotel with enough fanfare to fool Alastor into thinking that he might have actually had any part of his life together. With all six of his wings out, he flies over and swoops a— highly relieved, Alastor is sure— Charlie off of his head, before flying back inside with a nasty glare sent at Alastor.
The smoke dissipates for only a second before it comes back in full force, both of the Vees glaring back at Alastor.
For his part, he’s glad to play the fool. Alastor grins, letting all his teeth be seen on display as he stares down at the both of them.
“If the two of you insist on such a brutish method of communication, well… let it be said that I tried for the peaceful option.”
“Good evening, ma moitié. Sleep well?”
Alastor kneels by the Media Overlord’s side, gently taking the cyan-clawed hand into his own, careful not to accidentally tear at the long turtleneck sweater the other wears. Vox hums quietly as his screen powers on, his grip tightening as he pulls himself up into a sitting position using Alastor’s hand. He winces at the tight grip, but doesn’t let the pain from that morning’s activities show on his face. He doesn’t want to see Vox upset.
“…It’s evening already?”
Alastor watches with a careful curiosity as Vox reaches up a hand to his eyes and rubs at his gently glowing digitally displayed face, blinking sleepily. He takes a seat on Vox’s bedside, letting the other lean onto him for support. “You let me sleep in way too late. I should’ve been working— by now, there’s like a dozen articles about my disappearance from the internet that I haven’t cleared up yet. Surely by now, Val and Vel have gotten suspicious…”
“Oh, trust me, they did,” Alastor sighs. “It was quite the fuss I had to deal with. Your friends are very argumentative, I’ll have you know.”
They were more cooperative once he’d ripped out a row of Velvette’s teeth and torn Valentino’s wing, but he won’t say that in front of his companion.
Vox squints suspiciously, but he lowers his gaze a second after, too tired to properly argue. He bats weakly at Alastor’s hand, “You better not have killed them. I’ll be upset with you if you did.”
“I’m hurt, my dear! I’d never hurt your companions, even though they do so grate on my nerves. …For the record, I do appreciate how much they treasure you— however badly chosen they may be, at least they’re a pair of loyal dogs. Though of course I won’t fault you for your acquaintances’ poor behaviour,” Alastor reassures Vox, who simply snuggles closer into his hold, worming himself into Alastor’s side and lowering his screen brightness as he ducks his head. “Are you still tired, mon étoile?”
“A bit,” Vox admits quietly. “It’s better now that you’re here, though.”
A small, dark smile worms its way onto Alastor’s face. He’s glad Vox can’t see his expression right now. He wouldn’t want to scare him away again, after all.
“I’m glad to hear it, ma moitié. Did anything happen today while I was gone?”
“Your shadow was here most of the time,” Vox says. “I think… earlier in the day, the Princess and His Majesty came to look for you, but they left. Said that you were prob’ly with Rosie. He stayed with me when they came, but I was really tired. I don’t remember much of it.”
At the mention of Charlie and her father snooping around in his quarters, Alastor’s grip on his muse tightens momentarily, loosening when Vox mumbles quietly in discomfort.
“Is that so…?” Alastor rasps.
When the other demon shies away slightly at the sound of his displeased voice, Alastor quickly makes up for his mistake by running a gentle hand up and down Vox’s back. “No, no, I’m not upset with you, ma bichette. I just need to know… were our guests a little too choosy with where they were looking for me?”
“Al, it’s fine. They didn’t do anything,” Vox shifts in his hold, gently batting away Alastor’s hand like a sleepy kitten as he readjusts his position to make himself more comfortable, eventually settling back into his side. The glow of a blue screen shines brightly in the dimly-lit room as Vox opens up one of his control adjusters. He was still doing work even now— the rest of Hell was lucky to have such a dedicated sinner keeping their media consumption habits afloat.
“Anyway, what’d be the harm if they did? ‘S not like I’m leaving anytime soon. I could use some company.” Vox hums to the little jingle that plays as he closes his console, snuggling back into Alastor’s side once it shuts down.
The sight of it brings a smile to Alastor’s face.
Yes, Hell was lucky to have Vox, but not lucky enough that Alastor would ever allow his muse’s devotion to stray to anyone other than himself.
He would sooner gouge out those gorgeous eyes himself than ever watch them grow dull with disinterest once more.
“Yes, well…” Alastor muses, flicking one of his beloved’s antennae and laughing gently at the disgruntled reaction he gets from the technology demon. “I’d simply rather they not get close enough to potentially hurt you. You know how King Morningstar feels about us sinners, yes? Besides, you’ll always have me. ”
“Yeah, I do,” Vox mumbles softly, as if hesitant to speak. “I… heard he didn’t like you much, y’know? Always wondered why that was… I’d’ve thought that you’d be the first to cozy up to the King if you could. Well— not like that, but befriend him. At least, like, try for a chance to have him in your debt, or something.”
“He… bears an unfortunate connection to someone I dislike.” Alastor narrows his eyes as an unwelcome image of his sponsor flashes before his eyes. He returns his attention back to the prize still ensconced in his arms and preoccupies himself by hoisting Vox up and draping the other over himself, like a particularly heavy weighted blanket. “Though you are correct. If not for that frankly unbearable reminder, I daresay me and the King could’ve been quite the pair of old chums.”
“Not more than me, right?” Vox peers up at him with wide eyes, his hands coming around to wrap around Alastor’s neck as he pulls himself up into a sitting position on the other’s lap.
“No one would ever come close to you, my darling,” Alastor confirms with a soft smile, running a hand down his beloved’s bare back and relishing in Vox’s shiver at the action. “I simply mean to say that the King could make a… formidable acquaintance, if I played my cards right.”
“Well, if anyone could do it, it would be you.” Vox leans forward, tipping his head into Alastor’s neck as he worms himself into the deer demon’s space, his screen dimming as he closes his eyes.
“If you ever decide you wanna try and usurp the throne from him one day, I’ll help you. And I’ll make the rest of them help too, whether they want to or not.” With that last statement, Vox’s voice crackles with the static energy he’s tried to hide behind years of improvement and technological advancements.
Perhaps a better person would find concern with such a declaration. But for Alastor, it only makes his ear flick with amusement as he looks at Vox with fond eyes. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”
“Mm. Anything you want, Al. J’st say the word, I’ll have it done.”
Vox snuggles deeper into Alastor’s hold, and they stay in silence like that for a few ticks of the clock before Alastor decides it’s time to present the gift he’d spent so long searching for back at Rosie’s.
He’d gone back for it after the whole fiasco of a conversation, but it had taken him so long to wash the blood off his hands that Alastor had nearly decided to go back for it a day later. Still, looking at Vox’s compliant, passive self… well. It made something in his chest throb with need— perhaps it was whatever faint caricature of a heart he’d been equipped with in his death, perhaps it was the want to sink his teeth into the other’s flesh: whatever it was, if he let that feeling stay and encroach on his own life for any longer, he was sure he’d go insane.
Well, more so than he already had.
So the solution had been simple to him— a way to bind Vox to himself forever, under the guise of an equal partnership (as if there would ever be such a thing in Hell. Really, had either of them learnt nothing from the years they’d spent with each other after Vox’s Fall?)
Alastor hums as he nudges Vox back to lucidity, the other’s screen flickering as he struggles to keep his eyes open. “Ma bichette, please. Look at me?”
“I am,” Vox grumbles, lifting a hand up to rub at his screen uselessly. “It’s your fault I’m so tired, anyway. Can’t you at least be a little more considerate?”
Alastor snorts softly. “You’ll want to be awake for this, dear. I’ve got something important to show you.”
Vox sighs. “Mmkay.”
He shifts in his spot, letting Alastor sit up and turn to face him with the box tucked behind his back, one hand hiding it from the other’s view. “Close your eyes, alright? This won’t be a surprise if you can see it.”
Vox complies easily, his digital eyes closing as he sits up, patiently waiting as Alastor quietly opens the box and slides the ring onto his left hand before leaning over to Vox and sliding the matching one onto his ring finger, being careful not to nick his claws.
“Open them now,” Alastor commands softly, guiding the other’s view down to the two rings on their hands. Vox blinks as he looks down, eyes wide as he flits between Alastor and then the ring, almost in disbelief.
“You— Al—?” Vox looks at him with a wide-eyed expression, looking elated and confused at the same time, as if he thought it was some sort of dream that would pass the moment he blinked and woke up.
“Well, I can’t have you running away from me again, now can I? Marriage is simply the easiest way to go about it.” Alastor gives him a soft smile, picking his hand up and pressing a gentle kiss to where the ring encircles his finger.
It’s a marvel of craftsmanship, truly: a bright silver coloured band of angelic steel encircles a center encased with mother of pearl embeds and obsidian highlights, with Alastor’s crystalized and frozen blood swimming through. And though Vox can’t see it himself, Alastor knows that this specific ring was one he had commissioned to be permanently stuck once it was on: little pins and needles embedded in the ring had fastened themselves to Vox’s flesh from the moment that Alastor had slid it on, rendering it a permanent part of the other’s appearance.
He holds up his own hand to show the matching one. “You aren’t leaving again.”
“I’m not,” Vox repeats breathlessly, still wide-eyed. It’s such a beautiful expression on him— that mix of surprise, jubilation, the happiness of being tied to Alastor from now until their second death— that Alastor can’t help but lean in and steal a kiss from the other, biting down on his tongue until he can taste that electric fizz of the other’s blood. His actions draw a whine from Vox, who wraps his arms around Alastor’s neck and pulls him back in for another before they pull apart, blood staining Alastor’s lips as he nuzzles into the other’s neck.
“I suppose we’ll have to start planning for a ceremony soon,” Alastor muses, chuckling softly when Vox groans.
“Can’t it be private? Just like, let Vel and Val know or something…”
“I’d rather not have those… friends of yours around at such an event,” Alastor says. “What about Rosie and Husker instead? Would that make up for it?”
Vox blinks. “You’ll let me see Husk again?”
“If it makes you happy, my dear.”
“It would,” Vox confirms. He relaxes back into Alastor’s hold with a quiet sigh, hands reaching up to stroke the deer demon’s ears.
“Hm… alright. Wedding talk aside, are you getting tired again?”
“A bit,” Vox yawns. “Will you stay tonight?”
“I have to speak to Charlie about this morning’s mess,” Alastor tries to excuse himself, but the grip on his jacket grows stronger as Vox digs his claws into his jacket sleeve. His constant smile twitches for a second at the rough contact, but he relents when Vox lets out a small whine, another hand coming to snake around Alastor’s other arm to pull him back into the warmth of the bed.
“Please? I’ll be lonely.”
“Alright,” Alastor sighs fondly. “You’re so clingy.”
“I thought you liked me better clingy,” Vox hums. His hand comes up to interlace his fingers with Alastor’s, eyes lingering on the matching band encircling Alastor’s ring finger. “Do you want me to stop? Would you like that better?”
Alastor glances down at their intertwined hands, before shifting their positions so that Vox is looking up at him with that sweet, devoted expression of his. He looks down at the hand Vox has intertwined with his own, the ring shining dimly in the soft blue light of Vox’s screen. Then, he reaches a hand up to trace his beloved’s screen gently, relishing in the blush that rises on the other’s face.
Want him to stop?
No.
No, Alastor would never want that. He would never want to see Vox’s eyes stray from him, never want him to pay attention to another filthy sinner. All he needs is his muse’s attention all on himself.
All for him. Just for him.
“No. What I want is for you to never lay your eyes upon anyone else but me. Not your little dogs or those sycophants who want what they don’t deserve, not any of your— irritating followers. I just want you. ”
Vox blinks, before he gives an almost sleepy smile and a soft laugh. “You have me.”
Alastor’s eyes flick down to the ring on his hand and squeezes the other’s hand tight. He knows better than to believe what the Media Overlord says, and yet… as a green string unwinds itself from his finger and pulls Vox closer into his embrace, Alastor allows himself a moment of relaxation.
“Good. Because this time, you’ll never leave me again.”