The Warmth of the Morning

Son of the Morning.

Light Bringer.

The Morning Star was never a fan of the morning. Sequestered away in his empty palace, time had become nothing but a vague construct that meant little to him. The time would pass anyway, there was no need to uphold any semblance of a routine, simply because there was no reason to. He never followed any schedule even when it came to meals. Besides, more often than not, the meals consisted of a morsel he'd procure from the fridge that he'd unceremoniously shove in his mouth before returning to his "important business" i.e, duck making and self reflecting on all his life choices.

Although that was the case, he still felt an animosity toward the red light that shone through his curtains in the early morning. A not so helpful reminder that not only was it another day in hell, but it was another day in the hell he created. It meant another day closer to the yearly slaughters from heaven, another day alone without his wife or his daughter. Another day that he had to tolerate his eternal existence on this plane.

That was the case for what felt like, and actually was, centuries. But all it took was one phone call and some mild violence for that all to change.

After the death of Adam and the rebuilding of the hotel, Charlie had asked for Lucifer to stay in the hotel. It was not only a change of scenery, but the olive branch they'd both needed to make up for lost time. It was an opportunity he knew he didn't deserve to reconnect with his beloved daughter. He jumped at the chance.

Charlie was his everything. She was his reason to try. She was also the reason that he willingly, yet sometimes unsuccessfully or ungracefully, woke up at the ass crack of dawn every single day. Lucifer loved Charlie more than anything, but unholy hell did he hate his new schedule.

Shortly after moving in, Charlie had assigned work schedules to all the staff members of the hotel, which now included Lucifer. He was given the important task of securing the perimeter of the building while the hotel residents started their day. The princess' priority was the safety of the residents, especially after the attack from heaven. So, that meant that he was basically an extremely fancy security guard.

He had gleefully accepted the request from Charlie, how could he not? But, boy howdy, did the hours suck.

That is where the king of hell found himself that warm morning.

Lucifer was on the roof of the hotel, on the flat portion between his apple tower and the radio tower that flanked each side of the establishment. He sat on the ledge with his feet dangling off the side, trying to blink the exhaustion from his eyes as the red sun began to illuminate the Pride Ring in a crimson hue.

He looked over his ring, the section of hell that was his to run. He faintly heard the screams from the city below, the explosions and violence that was already starting to echo out. Did sinners ever tire of blood and violence? Lucifer was not one to judge, he was the king of hell after all, the deadly sin that brought sin into the world in the first place. But, come on , it was barely five in the morning and the heathens were already going at it. Not even a coffee first?

Lucifer was still skeptical of Charlie's dream. He had once had the exact dream, but he had long smothered that part of himself, purely for his own sanity. What has dreaming done for him in the past? Besides, sinners did not want to be redeemed, but if anyone was going to make them try, it was going to be his little girl. He couldn't help a small smile to grace his tired features at the thought.

"Why so wistful, sire?" A far too chipper voice quipped over radio static.

Lucifer hated that he was startled at the sudden interruption. The king turned to face the Radio Demon, the grin stretched wide over his face. He was dressed as he usually was when he decided to visit the king in the morning. He was in his typical dark red robe that sat atop his equally red pinstripe sleep clothes. He held a brightly colored mug in each hand.