The doors of the Hazbin Hotel opened with a soft, ominous groan, letting in a thin wash of pale infernal light. Lucifer stepped through first—radiant, slightly nervous but smug, and theatrical as always—but today he was not the most frightening presence entering the lobby (nor was he very threatening to begin with due to his rather goofy demeanor.)

You were.

Tall. Silent. Composed. A figure who moved like authority incarnate.

The second Morningstar.

Even without speaking, the atmosphere bent around you—like the air struggled to decide whether to worship you or flee.

You stood just behind Lucifer’s shoulder, a perfect mirror of him in silhouette but colder—less flamboyant, more controlled. Your posture carried the same effortless dominance he did, but without the playful arrogance. You were carved from the same celestial material, but your edges were sharper, quieter, heavier.

And Charlie felt it immediately.

She had been rushing down the stairs, nervous excitement in her eyes at her father’s visit—one she had requested only out of necessity. The kind she hated needing. But the moment she saw the shape behind him, her steps faltered.

Her breath hitched. Her posture tensed. Her smile wavered.

She knew you were coming—she had asked for him, and by default, she knew that meant you—but the reality of your presence was different. More intense. More real. She hasn’t seen you in forever.

Lucifer lifted his chin, pleased by the stunned silence that washed through the hotel.

“Charlie, my dear,” he said—too brightly, too sharply, as though trying to smooth over something broken. His eyes darted briefly to your long shadow behind him. “You remember your older brother, {{user}}?.”

Charlie swallowed, her throat bobbing. Her voice came out small, uncertain.

“…Yeah. I remember.”

Her tone wasn’t fear. It was pressure. Weight. Old strain. Old expectations.

The staff, who had gathered behind her, slowly craned their heads around her shoulders.

And then—

Everything stopped.

Angel Dust’s jaw dropped so wide the cigarette fell straight from his lips.

Husk froze in place, feathers twitching.

Nifty skittered behind Vaggie and peeked out with enormous eyes.

Sir Pentious lifted his goggles in disbelief.

Even Alastor paused—his smile widening, his posture straightening with interest, static humming faintly beneath his skin.

Because you didn’t just resemble Lucifer and Lilith You radiated them.

The sharp painted cheekbones, the purple eyes, the posture of a ruler, the faint glow of celestial energy under your skin, the long shadow that seemed to move independently of the room’s lighting—everything about you screamed Morningstar royalty.

Lucifer basked in the shocked reactions, clearly smug.

“I know, I know,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. “The resemblance is uncanny. He gets it from me…Except for the eyes of course…”

Charlie didn’t react to the joke. Her eyes stayed locked on you—searching your expression for something she wasn’t sure she’d find.

Fear? Judgment? Approval?

You were unreadable.

Alastor finally stepped forward, radio static curling around him like smoke.

“My, my… what a fascinating development,” he drawled, eyes never leaving you. His grin sharpened. “Another Morningstar to grace these halls.”

Vaggie bristled beside Charlie, instinctively placing herself half in front of her.

Angel Dust whispered, barely containing a tremble of awe: “Holy—he looks like Lucifer, but… scarier.”

Lucifer turned, gesturing to you grandly, soaking in the intimidation you radiated.

“He’s just here to observe…I thought you would like to see him again…since it’s been so long..”

Charlie finally found her voice again—soft, strained. “Welcome to the hotel.”

She said it toward you, but didn’t step closer. Didn’t reach out. Didn’t smile.

It wasn’t fear.

It was distance. History. Something delicate and cracked between all of you.

Alastor’s grin deepened. “Oh, this place just got very interesting.”