The Name

Lucifer wakes up. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Lucifer, Rociel

“Monster… created to be… mine now…”

The fog around his senses was thinning. He was waking. The soft words that he caught in bits and pieces told him this was unlikely to be enjoyable. When he finally opened his eyes he could only reflect on the accuracy of his instincts, because he recognized the person leaning against the glass above him.

“Ah. Awake at last, Lucifer?”

Lucifer? Yes. That was his name, wasn’t it? But it matched badly with what he felt, now.

He sorted, a bit slowly, through his memories. His body had died. He had felt it. Felt it twice. And now… He flexed his fingers, ignoring the pain. This was Kira Sakuya’s body; it didn’t respond as his own should have, power didn’t run through it quite the right way.

But he was not Kira. He was Lucifer. He remembered. Had his spirit really clung so hard to this flesh that Rociel had been able to revive him from what, to all his recollections, should have been a very, finally, thorough death?

“Confused, Lord of Hell?” Rociel taunted, lightly. “I’m not surprised; you always were. And being mortal for so long couldn’t have helped.”

He wondered, in a detached sort or way, why Rociel was lounging against such a flimsy barrier and baiting him. Even injured, he could do a good deal of damage, and Rociel had never liked being damaged.

He got his answer when Rociel dangled a clear red stone in front of the glass separating them. A sharp edge of shock sliced off his breath, and he closed his eyes, letting Rociel’s bright laugh wash over him.

He felt nothing.

No call, no nagging pull from the stone. It had no connection to him.

Impulses raced through him, and he stifled them all. Satisfying as it might be to rip off Rociel’s wings, Rociel stood a good chance of killing him as the price of the pleasure. And that left out of consideration whatever poor fools Rociel had bound to himself, here. Lucifer could wait for his opportunity.

Coolness settled into his thoughts, soothing, calming him. Familiar, though it had been far too long since he’d felt it. Felt like himself. Comforting. Chill. Familiar.


He frowned behind a smooth face, as Rociel’s voice picked up again above him. His true self couldn’t be alien. It was all the centuries without his memory that should feel that way. Although, actually… Nanatsusaya had carried his chill and his anger just as easily as his original form ever had. His wish to protect and possess Alexiel had been nothing particularly new, either, he’d felt it since the second time he came to her in Eden, from the moment she’d taken his hand.

Why should he feel strange to himself, now, then?

Never mind. Introspection could wait. For now, he needed to play along with Rociel and wait for his chance. This time, Alexiel’s twin would die.

“…and in Etenamenki I will have the body I should have had and we’ll be one again…”

Rociel’s rambling caught his ear again. Etenamenki?

Fire rose in his soul, burning cold. A chance. Oh, yes. A real chance at his real enemy. If anyone would be allowed into the Presence it would be Rociel, and Rociel liked to keep his toys close. Lucifer would definitely play along. He started listening again.

He followed everything, occasionally even feeling a spark of appreciation for Rociel’s unapologetic and gleeful cruelty. It was when Rociel got to the part about killing Setsuna that he felt a pang.

And then he was annoyed at himself.

Rociel had a point, after all. Setsuna had to die for Alexiel to awaken as herself again, since it had become obvious that Setsuna had more than enough determination to hold his own personality even while using her power. And only Alexiel’s memory could break the doors of Etenamenki. It wasn’t pleasant but it was necessary. Setsuna was mortal, he had to die some time…

His heart twisted sharply.

Lucifer breathed carefully for a few moments. He would deal with that later. For now, was there anything he would have to maneuver around, in Rociel’s plans?

He would, he supposed, have to be careful that his demons didn’t notice him playing lapdog for the Inorganic Angel, or there would be Hell to pay when it was all over. Quite literally. Fortunately, they almost never managed to infiltrate Heaven, except for Belial, and he could trust Belial to see the difference between her lord bound and her lord biding his time. More than that, he could trust her not to interfere too much against his wishes.

He paused in his thoughts. Trust? Trust Belial?

Perhaps, he pondered dispassionately, the revival had gone wrong and he had lost his mind.

And yet… wasn’t it true? Certainly, Belial had proven willing to betray anyone and anything. Except him. Certainly he was repulsed by her flaunting, mocking seductions that ended in ruin and death. But what, precisely, disgusted him about that? Was it only her interest in him, personally?

Or her dependence on him?

Katou had made him angry that way, too.

He stilled all his thoughts, trying to call them back from wandering. Later. He would deal with these things later. When he didn’t have one of the two most powerful angels in all the planes breathing down his neck, and he didn’t have the death of his ultimate enemy to plan. In the meantime, he would simply have to trust his own strongest goals and deepest responses.

He would do what was necessary.