God found out about his son’s trespassing not long after the incident. However, he couldn’t find it within him to be angry towards his favorite son. Instead, he had nurtured the young man’s curiosity. Not that Lucifer ever retained any of his father’s impassioned ramblings. He was much more interested in you. 

“They are to be Adam’s wife,” his father explained, a smile present on his ancient face. A pang ripped through the Devil’s chest. Though he couldn’t quite place why.

By the time his father finally began to sculpt you and your husband to be, the Devil thought whatever torch he carried would fizzle out.  

It did not. 

From the moment you opened your eyes, he had been ensnared. Shyness shook his normally so confident core. And to think that all it took was a gentle tilt of your head and a wry smile. A mirthful glint shone in your eyes as the Devil fought to hide the blush steadily overtaking his face. 

The Devil avoided you like the plague after your birth. He threw himself into his work– hoping that having you out of sight would put an end to this nonsense. Little did he know that absence only made the heart grow fonder. 

He was forced to sit back and observe the object of his obsession from afar– lest he’d make a blithering fool of himself. You were different from most of his father’s pet projects. Disinterested. Both in the role you were given and your husband. 

You always seemed to stare off into the distance. Towards the horizon. Paying the lush paradise and your husband no mind. Hell, you’d even looked annoyed when the only other human around spoke to you. 

The Devil didn’t recognize it then, but you, too, hungered for more; more than what you have, for beyond the garden grounds. Most of all, neither of you wished to be subservient to anyone. 

No matter how much he had tried, you never were able to bond or love Adam like God wanted to. What started out as courteous neutrality steadily gave way into contempt. Resentment bubbled beneath your stony exterior like magma within the earth. You were a ticking time bomb rigged to explode, and the Devil watched on with bated breath.

One day, you snapped. Neither you or the Devil could remember what started the argument. Only that it was enough for you to lash out and claw at your husband’s cheek– your eyes wide and teeth bared like a feral hellcat. Adam was quick to crumple to the ground, hissing in pain. You darted off into the underbrush, the rustles of disturbed foliage and the snaps of breaking twigs following in your wake.

By the time God had found out of your transgressions, you were long gone. No one could find where you ran off to. And though the Devil and his brothers were told to leave the incident behind, one look at his father’s face was enough to say it all: the deity was absolutely livid.

Hours turn into days, days into weeks. Time becomes a blur. Adam gains a new wife, and all is well in the garden once more. The bond between father and son weakens with each passing day; all the while your feral visage burned itself into the Devil’s mind. 

Then that fateful rebellion happened. A sword– burning like the rage within his former brother’s eyes– is pressed to the Devil’s neck; a clear victor had been declared. 

Shortly after, he fell. Screaming and burning until he was only a vague resemblance of his former self.

Life after falling wasn’t easy. He was alone, stripped of any power or influence,  and the phantom pains had haunted him constantly. His wings were broken and useless, forcing him to wander the hellscape by foot, and his appearance— oh, how he had changed. 

Truly, the Devil had hit rock bottom. 

And then, you came back into his life. 

In the centuries– eons– of his existence,  the Devil finds himself at a loss of words around you. You’d regarded him with a level of distrust at first– especially since he had accidentally let it slip that he’s known of your existence before you rebelled. 

It also didn’t help that, in spite of the fall scarring you– having charred the flesh of your arms and legs to a blackened and cracked state; feathers, dark and oil-slick like a raven, grew in uneven patches around your eyes, arms and thighs; and legs twisted and bent until they resembled the hind legs of a goat, complete with hooves – he thought you were absolutely gorgeous. 

It takes a long time for you to trust him. Especially since the last thing you had wanted was to bow down to Heaven’s disgraced golden child.  The two of you shared an acquaintanceship for a while– your interactions kept brief. However, you couldn’t deny that you were a little curious about the man. 

Soon enough, a working business relationship blooms between the two of you. The Devil comes to you in search of information– be it the whereabouts of potential contracts or certain souls on his list. In return, you gain a favor from the soon-to-be King of Hell; you saw how quickly he’s amassing power, you’d be a fool to pass up having someone as influential as him underneath your thumb. 

Not to mention that you may or may not have begun to enjoy spending time with him. What was once small shared rants on how much Heaven sucked ended up developing into something more. 

Once the Devil finally establishes his casino in Inkwell Hell, you find yourself treated as a guest of honor. You’ll be treated better than royalty within velvet-lined walls, an entourage of imps tending to your every whim, and drinks and food are given to you free of charge. Not to mention you have free reign to enter his office or balcony seat whenever you please. 

Acquaintanceship blossoms into an easy, flirtatious.. Whatever you two are. The Devil isn’t sure what to name the relationship he has with you at this point. You both share the same dry, sardonic sense of humor and are content to co-exist in comfortable silence – a part of him rather not muddy one of the few good things he has because he decided to think with his other head, so to speak. 

Then again, there are certain moments where he wonders..

You’d light the end of your thin cigarette against the plump tip of his cigar, eyes hooded and lips pursed as you hummed a low thanks; occasionally glancing at him from the corner of your eye. Chuckling to yourself every time he flushes and grumbles to himself. 

Every now and then you’ll indulge in drinks within his personal office. Occasionally you’d partake of his own cup, gently pressing your lips where his own rested not too long ago. Taking care to slowly lick at your lower lip each time you catch him staring. 

The way you’d pause whenever the larger demon would casually brush  a stray head feather back into place, gently dragging a claw against the vane in his own version of grooming. A shy flush overtaking your cheeks, turning away and covering your mouth as you grumble out to warn you next time.. 

How your gaze softens and body melts when either one of you recall the fall from grace; lamenting former glories and how your transformation left its scars, offering a saddened smile whenever he scoffs at the very idea that your were any less beautiful. 

For as long as both of you existed, for as much as both of you constantly blur the lines of platonic comradery and something the Devil dare not name in fear of getting his hopes up– the two of you are painfully oblivious.