The Devil Dethroned
A snippet for the @bedtime-broadcast blog
By @bunny-is-cute
The air was heavy with the scent of rain, the stone path slick beneath Lucifer’s polished shoes as he made his way back to the manor. He’d been restless these past days, unable to shake the sour weight Lilith’s return left on his chest. But nothing prepared him for what he saw cresting the hill.
A line of imps and laborers moved in and out of his front doors like ants, arms laden with boxes. His boxes.
Lucifer’s chest tightened as he broke into a sharp stride, cane clicking against the ground. The closer he came, the clearer it was: these weren’t just items, they were his life.
His collection of hand-carved rubber ducks, each one unique, lined up carelessly in crates. The silk suits and hats he had spent centuries curating. Trinkets from his travels across realms, thrown into bags like trash. But what stopped him cold, what ripped the breath from his lungs, was a small cradle being carried past him, pale wood polished to a shine.
Liam’s cradle.
Lucifer froze, the sight hitting like a knife through the ribs. His baby boy’s nursery was being gutted, the painted walls stripped bare, blankets and toys bundled away as though they had never meant anything.
All the air left him in a strangled cry.
“What in bloody Hell is happening here?” His voice cracked with fury, shaking the very air, making the workers flinch. “Drop that this instant!”
The imps stumbled, terrified, and the cradle was set gently down at his feet. Lucifer’s hand shot out to steady it, fingers curling around the familiar wood as if by touch alone he could keep Liam alive.
And then she stepped out.
Lilith. Regal as ever, her white curls falling perfectly, her crimson gown glittering with gold trim. She carried herself as though the very ground belonged to her.
“I’m reclaiming what’s mine,” she said smoothly, her voice calm, rehearsed. “This estate. These holdings. This was always my domain, Lucifer. As Queen of Hell, it is rightfully my property.”
Lucifer’s head snapped up, eyes glowing, jaw tight. “Your property? This is my empire! I built this with my hands, my power, my name! I am the King of Hell!”
Lilith only laughed, melodic and cruel.
“Not anymore.”
She flicked her wrist, and a thick stack of papers bound in golden seals hit the ground at his feet. Their glow was unmistakable. Heaven’s decree.
Lucifer stormed forward, trembling with fury as he snatched the papers from the ground. The golden seal burned against his skin, its Heavenly authority undeniable. His throat locked as he scanned the words, each one confirming the nightmare that stood before him.
“You dare—” his voice cracked, his hand gripping his rounded stomach. “This… this is my kingdom. My empire. I bled for it, I built it, I—”
Satan stepped forward, towering like a mountain, his glowing stripes pulsing as if molten rage flowed through his veins. His wings unfurled, shadowing the manor. His voice was thunder.
“You abandoned it, Lucifer.” His clawed hand jabbed a finger into Lucifer’s chest, hard enough to make the Morningstar stumble back. “While I kept the Sins in line, while I made sure Hell didn’t tear itself apart, you were wallowing. Crying. Drinking. Spreading your legs for anything that winked at you.”
Lucifer’s face burned as Satan threw down a bundle of photographs, their glossy surfaces flashing in the infernal light. Each one stabbed him like a blade: him in some dive bar, glassy-eyed and drunk; him staggering out of dens of sin; him entangled with faceless demons in filthy sheets.
“You want me to respect you as King?” Satan snarled, stepping closer, his twin pairs of eyes searing with contempt. “Then why’d you spend the last few years acting like a sad little bitch?”
Lucifer’s jaw trembled, his hands shaking as they pressed protectively to his belly. His crown, his clothes, his dignity—it all shimmered, dissolved in golden sparks, and reformed around Satan. The regal top hat fit neatly upon his horns, his vest and coat snapping into place across his massive frame.
The magic chose its ruler.
Lilith’s laugh cut sharp as glass. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, Luci. You’ve been unfit for a long, long time.” She circled him like a predator, smirking. “Charlie won’t save you. If she wants her Hotel to thrive, she’ll side with me and my husband.”
Satan smirked, baring teeth like obsidian daggers. He slung a heavy arm around Lilith’s shoulders, pulling her flush against his side. The contrast between her elegant poise and his raw brutality was jarring—and deliberate.
Lucifer staggered back, stripped to his undergarments, thirty-seven weeks pregnant, standing in the rubble of his dignity. He could barely breathe. The laughter echoed in his ears, hollow and cruel, until it felt like the world itself was mocking him.
For the first time in all his immortal existence, Lucifer Morningstar felt utterly abandoned.