Satan was walking down the corridor of the House of Lamentation, his steps measured and quiet, the weight of his thoughts heavy on his mind as usual. He had been deep in contemplation about his latest book, a particularly frustrating one on obscure magical theories, when he felt the sudden presence of something familiar—and rather unexpected.

A soft tap on his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts. Before he could react, he felt something warm press against his side.

For a moment, Satan froze. He was always so in control, so composed, that any breach of his personal space—especially from family—was an intrusion. But then, he felt the softness of their hair against his cheek and the warmth of their form against his side.

His first instinct was to pull away, to retain his stoic and untouchable demeanor. But the little burst of warmth around him… it was hard to stay irritated.

His green eyes softened just slightly, and, for the briefest of moments, he allowed himself to enjoy the embrace. Satan allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to flicker across his lips.

“Do you always greet me like this?” he asked, his voice steady, though there was an odd warmth hidden beneath his usually sharp tone. He couldn’t quite help the faint amusement in his voice, despite his internal struggle to keep his composure.

Before they could respond, he carefully, almost reluctantly, shifted their body to gently remove their arms from around his waist. He wasn’t one to openly show affection, not in the way his brothers might, but he couldn’t deny that there was a comfort in the way they had made him feel, if only for a fleeting moment.

“You should be careful,” he said as he adjusted his shirt, his tone more playful now.