Chapter Text
The attic bedroom is an odd place for a going-away party but Rose doesn’t have the heart to point this out. She smiles when Asmodeus refills her drink. His joke that she should drink her fill of Demonus while she still can is just another unwelcome reminder that her time with the brothers is coming to an end.
She takes a careful sip to avoid further conversation. The Demonus is sweet enough, it shouldn’t fill her with bitter nostalgia for a place she hasn’t yet left behind. Even still, as she tips the glass back and takes another sip, she can only smell the citrus and mint of the gardens where she spent her last year’s share of peaceful mornings. She can only taste all of the memories that associate themselves with the Devildom’s favorite drink. The parties she helped to plan, the celebrations held by her hosts, quiet evenings with Lucifer that the younger brothers don’t know about.
Lucifer himself is notably absent from this party. This isn’t surprising, it’s not the kind of gathering he’d usually take part in, but it does hurt Rose’s feelings.
She thinks about slipping away with the drink in her hand. Maybe the Demonus would be offering enough to get him to talk to her.
All week, Lucifer’s been avoiding her. He’s busy with ending the exchange program, with all of the little loose ends that Diavolo’s left for him to tie up, but not so much more busy than usual. Even during the few moments Rose has been able to steal from him, he’s been absent, acting unlike himself.
It’s the last night of the exchange program. Rose is running out of time to spend with Lucifer and he doesn’t seem to care.
Before she can flesh out her plan to leave the party, Mammon pulls her by the hand into a dance. An upbeat song is playing and Rose giggles as Mammon twirls her around and catches her at the waist.
She loves Mammon, too. The thought strikes through her mind like a flash of lightning. She shouldn’t be dwelling on the eldest brother when he can’t be bothered to make an appearance, when he won’t even deign to make a pact with her. She loves Mammon, too, and he’s been with her from the start.
“Chin up, Rosie.” Mammon taps under her chin with the back of two fingers, making his admonition literal. He speaks just loud enough to be heard over the music. Rose hadn’t even registered that she was frowning at him.
Premature nostalgia, again, crashes through her. No one in the human world was as attentive to her as the brothers. She doubts anyone ever will be. Doing her best to shake the feeling off, she lays a free hand on Mammon’s bicep and sways with him to the music. Rose has never been much of a dancer, but Mammon carries the beat well enough for both of them.
“I’m going to miss you so much.” She completes their loose embrace, resting the hand with the glass in it on Mammon’s shoulder. Mammon’s dancing slows a little, helping her not to spill her drink.
“You’ll miss The Great Mammon most of all, right?”
Rose laughs, leaning her head into Mammon’s chest. She’s spent more time with Mammon than almost any of the other brothers. She loves his easy humor and effortful charm. His joke isn’t a play for a real answer, it’s just his way of deflecting. He knows that Rose has chosen another brother as her favorite.
In some ways, Rose’s relationship with Mammon feels sweeter because of how strictly platonic it is. Things between them are easy and lighthearted, and she’s glad that they’ve settled that way.
“Right,” she says. Deflecting.
“I’m joking, you know,” he says, voice softer. He ducks his head down to speak into her ear. “I can be the bigger man and give that up to Lucifer.”
“When have you ever been the bigger man?”
“Hey!” He lets go of her hand and gently flicks the side of her head with his middle finger. “Watch it.”
Rose giggles, ducking as she tries and fails to miss the blow. “Ah! Sorry!”
Taking her hand again, Mammon pulls her closer. A slower song is playing, allowing them to sway more gently. He rests his chin on the top of her head, likely in an effort to avoid her eye contact.
“You’re a bad liar,” he says, “and a shit dancer.”
“Asshole.” Rose can’t argue with him, so she resorts to calling names.
Mammon chuckles and pulls back, twirling her by the hand again. Before she can come back to him, though, Beel’s hand is on her wrist.
"Rosie." Beel's face is settled into his usual, too-serious expression. He remains stoic as he tugs her gently closer.
Mammon gives Rose's hand a squeeze before he lets her go and she throws a grateful smile over her shoulder at him in return. They'll probably chat again later, after the party.
"Hey, cutie," Rose ruffles Beel's hair when he frees her hand. He isn't dancing, which is probably for the best. The nickname brings with it another feeling of loss. She remembers when she first called him that, comparing his bright hair to the orange peel of a clementine in her lunch box. It had been the first time he'd seen the fruit and he'd consumed it whole.
You are what you eat, after all.
Beel crosses his arms at her. "I haven't gotten to talk to you since we first came up here."
"I'm sorry." Rose laughs. "You've got a lot of brothers and almost all of them want to talk to me."
He's silent for a moment, seeming to assemble each letter of his next words together in front of him before speaking. Eventually, and with much effort, he settles on: "I wish you didn't have to go."
"I also wish I didn't have to go." As a lame sort of consolation, Rose offers him her drink. He takes it from her hands with uncharacteristic grace before downing it all in one go.
When he’s finished, he frowns down into the glass, turning it in his hands. "You're the nicest person I know."
"You only know two human people," Rose chides.
"You're the nicest being I know." Beel confesses this to the ground, suddenly shy. "I'll miss you."
Rose loves Beel, too. Her gentle giant. She loves how honest he is and she loves the plain valor with which he protects his brothers. His physical presence has always been a soothing one, even in the earlier days when none of the brothers knew her very well. Beel was open minded and easily won over by Rose's cooking alone. She'll miss watching his eyes fill with unambiguous adoration at the simplest offering of a snack.
For his part, sweet Beel has always been on Rose's side.
She takes the glass back from him and sets it on a wooden writing desk nearby before pulling Beel into a hug. He heaves a hearty laugh as he picks her up off the ground. He's careful—aware of his own strength—but the embrace is still just short of bone-crushing.
“Okay, okay!” Rose squeaks, kicking her legs as if to get away. She’s laughing, though, so Beel loosens his grasp on her only slightly, keeps holding her off the ground.
“You’re also the cutest being I know,” Beel says, speaking like one would to a stray kitten. Rose won’t miss sometimes feeling like a house pet to the demons.
“Yeah, yeah…” She grumbles, ruffling Beel’s hair. “But you’re the cutest demon I know.”
Beel lowers her gently to her feet, hands lingering on her waist to help her find her balance. His cheeks are pink under soft eyes that greedily take her in. “Don’t let my brothers hear you.”
“Hear what?” Asmodeus’s voice startles Rose as he appears behind her. He reaches to quickly tug the hem Rose’s skirt under the guise of fixing where it’s been raised by Beel picking her up. His sense of boundaries with her hasn’t much improved since their first meeting. “You were almost flashing us.”
Rose darts Asmodeus a dirty look but doesn’t scold him. She doesn’t really mind his intrusions on her personal space as much as she used to, though she’s not sure if it’s because the two of them are closer or if she’s just been desensitized over time.
“I told Beel I’d miss him the most out of all of you,” Rose lies. This somehow seems less offensive than her actual declaration, maybe because it’s blatantly untrue.
Asmodeus gives Rose a cutesy pout. “Why are you lying to my baby brother?”
Beel laughs, shaking his head. He gives Rose a gentle pat on the shoulder before leaving her alone with Asmodeus.
While Asmodeus is far from her favorite brother, Rose can appreciate how much their relationship has grown since her arrival in the Devildom. When they met, Asmodeus was more friendly with her than most of his brothers. However, his friendliness felt too sickly-sweet to Rose and pushed her away more than it endeared her.
Rose can tell that Asmodeus will always be a little jealous of how close some of the other demons were to her, but it doesn’t seem to faze him much. He’s conceded to the fact that his and Rose’s personalities just aren’t compatible. This doesn’t keep him from his overfamiliarity and constant flirting, but his passes at her have been defanged.
“You didn’t really tell him that, did you?” Asmodeus asks, narrowing his eyes at her. “He’ll be heartbroken when he finds out you were lying to him.”
“Drop it,” Rose scolds. “You’re supposed to be nice to me tonight.”
“I’m always nice to you! It’s not my fault you’re a masochist.” He tuts at her shaking his head with mock dismay. “You went and fell for the demon that won’t even come to your party.”
Rose doesn’t have an answer for this.
“Just know I’ll always show up for you, lovely.” Asmodeus takes a strand of Rose’s long hair between two fingers, causing Rose to incline her head closer to his without thinking. “If you ever get tired of Lucifer’s arrogance.”
Rose laughs. “As if you’re any less arrogant.”
Giggling at her bold response, Asmodeus presses a quick kiss to the top of Rose’s head before letting go of her hair and taking a step back. He shrugs, not taking her rebuff personally. “You know I’ll never stop pining for you.”
“You only remind me once a day.”
“You’ll miss me.”
It’s true. She loves Asmodeus. Even if he annoys her, even if they clash. Some part of her will always belong to each of the brothers. Asmodeus has his share.
“I will miss you,” she admits. “I’m sure I’ll realize tomorrow that I’ve taken the constant flirting for granted.”
Asmodeus winks at her. “You will.” His eyes narrow at her empty hands. “Where’s the drink I gave you? Did you drink it already?”
“Yeah,” Rose lies, “I must have set the glass down somewhere to dance.” She turns around, pretending to look for the ‘missing’ glass. Finally, she lets her eyes settle on the writing desk where she left it. There, next to her empty cup, she finds Satan, leaning against the desk. His arms are crossed and his brow is furrowed as he stares at the ground.
Satan, like Lucifer, is not one for loud parties. Yet he’s here for Rose, even if he’s clearly not having a good time.
Rose gives Asmodeus another glance. “I’m going to…” She gestures toward Satan. Asmodeus is gone before she can finish the sentence.
“Hey, you.” She’s careful approaching Satan, as if she might startle him, leaning just close enough to be heard over the music once she’s next to him.
Satan smiles at her when he looks up. The shift in his mood reminds her of storm clouds clearing to reveal a clear sky.
“Hey, you,” he echoes.
“Are you alright? Mammon has the music a bit loud.”
Rose and Satan are much alike. Both of them enjoy quiet libraries and intimate talks over tea rather than drinks and dancing. She’s feeling a little overwhelmed by the music, herself.
Satan shakes his head. “I’m just thinking.”
“Will you step out with me for a second?” She frames it this way on purpose, like she’s asking a favor of him, even though she knows he’ll like the quiet, too.
“Sure.”
Satan takes her hand, leading her past his brothers with head held high. Asmodeus catches Rose’s eyes as she passes. He mouths, “Flirt.”
Rose stifles a laugh. This is a common accusation from him, but not one that holds much water. She is only decidedly romantic with one of the brothers and comfortably platonic with the rest.
When she and Satan reach the stairs and let the attic door close behind them, Rose takes a few steps down before sitting on one of the steps. Satan follows suit, choosing a lower step so that he can sit to the side and look up at her.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
“Not really.” Rose frowns, suddenly feeling as if she might cry. It’s a wonder she’s made it this long without tearing up.
“I can’t believe Lucifer isn’t here.” Satan’s voice remains steady, but Rose recognizes a fragile thread of anger just beneath his declaration.
Satan and Lucifer get on better now, mostly due to Rose’s intervention. She’s argued with Satan on Lucifer’s behalf countless times. And she’s argued with Lucifer on Satan’s behalf almost as much.
This time, though, she has nothing exonerating to say for the eldest brother.
“It’s not as if we invited him, really,” she says. That’s probably it. He wouldn’t ask permission to join a party he wasn’t explicitly invited to.
Rose knows Lucifer frustratingly well. Well enough to make allowances against her own hurt feelings.
“But you wish he were here. He should know that.” Satan bumps his knee against her leg, pulling her back from her thoughts. “Everyone else can tell.”
“I don’t think Beel could.”
“No, he was worried about you, too.”
“Really?”
Satan laughs. “He was pacing in circles around me for the last hour asking, ’Should I take Rosie another cupcake?’ and, ‘What’s wrong with Rosie?’”
“Oh.” Rose frowns. It’s always a hit to her ego when the brothers slip something past her. Even if it’s a misplaced insecurity, it reminds her that the demons are higher beings and makes her feel small in comparison.
“You didn’t get the hint by the third cupcake?” Satan teases. “You humans really are dense.”
Counter-intuitively, the joke makes Rose feel better. The way Satan says this, as if thinking something similar would be unfathomably ridiculous, helps her see that her fears are unfounded.
She laughs. “Everyone’s being touchy with me because I’m leaving! I can’t separate that from the other thing.”
“Well, Belphie has half a mind to run downstairs and give Lucifer a talking to, so we’d better sort it out.”
“We?”
“The Formerly-Anti-Lucifer-League is going to become the Anti-Lucifer-League again if Lucifer doesn't make this up to you so, yes, you and I should come up with a plan to steer our organization in the right direction."
"I have not been, nor will I ever be a member of the Anti-Lucifer-League."
Satan feigns injured astonishment. “But you attended all of our meetings!"
"You only ‘met’ any time you and Belphie had me cornered in a room."
Satan laughs, more at ease now that he's got Rose joking with him. It strikes Rose how different he is from how he was when they first met. During her first few months in the Devildom, he'd been cold and standoffish, barely speaking to her. Rose was stubborn, though, and steadfast in her quest to gain the trust of all seven brothers.
She used to sit in the library with him, pretending to read in tense silence with Satan as she asserted her right to be in the House of Lamentation. Her patience was rewarded tenfold when the walls finally fell, though, because they crumbled to bits. Satan trusted her fully. Sometimes she suspected that he trusted her more than some of his brothers.
In their soft dispositions, they understand each other, just like she’d always known they would.
“Should I go talk to him?” Rose asks. She’s still tangling with the idea from earlier. Part of her wonders if Lucifer expects her to slip away and find him. Such a thing wouldn’t be out of character, he is partial to their private meetings, greatly preferring those quiet moments to sharing Rose with his brothers.
Satan scowls, clearly vexed by the idea. “If he can’t put aside his pride for you for one night…”
Behind them, the attic door swings open, spilling warm light and festive music into the dim stairwell. Rose braces herself to be coaxed back into the party by one of the brothers.
“Hey.” Belphie emerges and quickly shuts the door behind him. He’s also not a fan of loud music, in Rose’s experience. “Levi sent me out to check on you two, I am using it as an excuse to escape.”
Satan scoots down a step, patting the place where he just was. “Have a seat.”
“Are we talking about how much we hate Lucifer?” Belphie asks, sitting on the step next to Rose. “Because I’ve been waiting all night to do so.”
“We’re…” Rose sighs, buries her face in her hands. “I don’t know.”
“Right.” Satan clears his throat. “I’m officially calling the final meeting of the Anti-Lucifer-League to begin.”
“An organization of which I am not a member,” Rose says, giggling despite herself.
“You’ve attended all of the meetings,” Belphie counters.
Rose sighs, doing her best to feign exasperation, but she can’t help but laugh. She loves that she’s found Satan and Belphie’s humor through their stoic exteriors.
Though she’s only really known Belphie for a short time, Rose is humbled by her proximity to his personal evolution. He’s welcomed himself back into the family that he tried to leave behind, allowing Rose to follow him. She loves him for this, even if she doesn’t feel that she knows him as well as his brothers.
Really, if it weren’t for the stubborn youngest, Rose imagines she would still feel like an outsider in the House of Lamentation. It was his meddling that caused her to form pacts with six brothers and it was his plan that forced her to confront the family’s problems head-on. The fact that his original intention was to kill Rose seems silly, now, so miraculous has been their journey from one point to another.
“Let’s talk through it,” Satan says, ever the voice of reason. “Do you want to go to Lucifer?”
Yes, Rose thinks. She’s wanted to go to him all night. Saying this out loud, though, proves more difficult. All of the brothers are protective of her but Satan is especially so. And he isn’t one to refrain from voicing his reservations.
“You sound judgemental,” Belphie scolds. Rose is surprised that he’s taken up her side without her having to say anything. “She’s not gonna answer if you ask her like that.”
“Okay. Sorry.” Satan frowns, ceding lead of the conversation to his brother.
Belphie turns his body more towards Rose, resting a gentle hand on her thigh. His hand is warm, as always. His voice is soft. As a pleasant biproduct of his sin, the demon exudes comfort. “You want to go to him, don’t you?”
“I do,” Rose admits.
“But you’re worried it’s the wrong thing to do?” Satan asks.
“I wish he’d seek me out. Or show me that he’s sad that I’m leaving.”
Earlier in the day, during the exchange students’ final meeting with the student council, Diavolo teased Lucifer for how sad he was that the exchange program was coming to an end. This is the most concrete confirmation she has that Lucifer is going to miss her.
Rose believes that Lucifer cares for her but she’s frustrated at his inability to show her. That’s where the compromise is, in their communication.
Again, the attic door swings open and Levi peeks his head out. “Hey, you three! If I can’t hide in my room, you can’t hide out here!”
“Leviathan…” Rose sighs. She often uses his full name just to annoy him but, this time, it falls from her mouth reflexively out of exasperation. “It’s my party, I’m allowed to sulk.”
“It’s your party, you’re supposed to attend it.” Levi puts his hands on his hips and squares his shoulders. “Come on.”
Of all of the brothers, Rose has found Levi to be the most difficult to connect with. There are a few shared interests. She likes some of the video games he plays and some of the comics he reads. She doesn’t mind occasionally gaming or watching shows with him and the other brothers. Neither of these things, though, are threads strong enough to tie them into a friendship. Even their pact is superficial, with clearly distorted motives—Levi’s envy of the other brothers’ pacts and Rose’s desire to unite the family as a whole.
Rose loves Levi the way one loves an annoying little brother. She can’t imagine the house without him, but she’s never been fully at ease in his company.
“Why don’t you come sit with us?” Rose asks. “If you’re so tired of the party.”
Levi softens a bit at the suggestion. “I mean… only if you want me to.”
“You know what? I haven’t gotten the chance to say goodbye to you yet. Come here.”
Belphie and Satan get the hint and stand, switching places with their brother. Each of them tap Rose on the head as they leave. Neither Satan nor Belphie do well with casual affection, but their attempts are adorable.
“You really want to sit with me?” Levi asks. He’s settled right next to Rose, avoiding her eyes. His confidence comes in waves, causing him either to shout or whisper most of the time. He looks timid, now, shoulders low, face hidden.
Rose shakes her head at him, laughing. "I asked you to, didn't I?"
Levi sighs, loosening his posture and letting his knees fall to the sides, unintentionally crowding Rose's legs. She allows the intrusion, doesn't move away.
"You're gonna get to visit still," Levi says, "I don't know why you're moping so much."
"It's not-“ Rose stops herself. Why should she explain her feelings about Lucifer to Levi? She's had that conversation plenty of times already. Instead, she vents the other thing. "It's not going to be the same, just visiting."
"You don't think so?"
"I know so. A place never feels like home again once you've left it behind."
"Hm." Levi considers this, staring down at his hands as if he hopes to physically grasp the idea, to turn it over and observe it. "I guess that's true."
Levi is one of the elder demons, meaning he was more established in the Celestial Realm in his youth. He speaks as though he knows what it means to leave a place behind.
"Still," he says, finally looking up at Rose, "I'll make sure you always have a place here."
"You will?" Rose doesn't mean to sound surprised but it's uncharacteristic of Levi to take such initiative or ownership over the House of Lamentation. It's more thoughtful than she's come to expect from him.
"Yes." He gives a decisive nod. "You can count on me."
This is a stretch too far. Rose giggles, bumping Levi's arm with her elbow. She jokes, "I'm gonna hold you to that."
They sit in silence for a moment, reveling in something approaching peaceful companionship. Levi stands, having enjoyed his allotted fill of Rose’s company.
“Mammon was asking after you,” he says, reaching for the door. “Are you coming back in or?”
Rose makes no move to stand. “Tell him I’m out here.”
“You got it, boss.”
The door swings open and shut behind her and Rose finds herself relieved to have some time alone. Six brothers have, in their own ways, told her that they’ll miss her. The absence of the eldest brother is even more glaring now that it’s framed by the rest of her evening.
Pride, perhaps, is the most fatal sin of all.