The Wicked's Confessional

Title: The Wicked’s Confessional
Summary: Satan…Lucifer. What if there was more to his fall? What if there was more to him? I warn you, this contains an interpretation of religious beliefs…don’t read if you don’t like.
Warnings: Religious themes…R for now…may get booted to NC-17 later if the series continues…
Disclaimer: I don’t own the Catholic Religion, but I do own most of these interpretations.
Comment: Nobody is going to read this…oh well.


I look upon the world above as I wonwhatwhat I have done. I am the Fallen Princecifecifer, first of God’s created angels. Long ago, I sat beside my father, like a favored son, glowing and loving toward my precious Creator. He would smile, and perhaps shift a length of my chin-length black hair back behind my ears. All of this was long ago, shortly after God had created His universe and His pet creation, Humans. He went back to the source of His original power; a neutral being that makes up the energy the world is created from. He calls this creature father, and the creature calls itself the Null. It was nothing in the beginning, and it will be nothing in the ending. The Null is simply a mass of invisible and untouchable energy. Chaos and peace, murder and rebirth, all came from the Null, whose only agent is God. You may understand my Creator’s existence, but you know nothing of mine.

My Father was once a child, blue of color, paler and almost silver upon His body, striking azure in His hair, bright ice for His white-less eyes (for you see, God and I are the only angels with no white in our eyes, since we are the only who constantly keep ourselves in true form. Other angels appear humanoid, not in their true glory), and a bright electric color of blue for His feather wings, all ten pairs. A long time ago, He had been no taller than a normal ten-year-old boy, curious, and wandering about the wonder world He had created. However…Humans cannot comprehend any of my Father’s true thoughts and plans…and He desired to create a race made in His image even more closely than His beloved Humans. He returned to the Null, and asked for more power.

From my Father’s first attempts, I was born. I was innocent, in a younger, teenaged form, for by now, my Creator’s body had aged to a young man. I remember my first look into the vast throne room of Heaven…

It was bright. Almost too bright, and the world hurt my eyes. I slowly sat, from where I had been laying upon a white marble alter, and peered around slowly. I saw my Father sitting at the throne, legs crossed, watching me with softly glowing blue eyes. I stared at Him, tucking my legs behind me, and tilted my head like a child. My throat tightened, and I swallowed. My voice, now a deep alto, near a baritone, and yet a tenor at the same time, was nowhere near it’s current register, and was soft, like a child’s.

“Where am I?” I murmured, voice near silent and extremely weak. God smiled, and stood, moving toward me with a walk that seemed to float. He wrapped me in His arms, and I curled into Him, closing my eyes, feeling warm, and safe.

“You are in heaven, my precious son.” His voice was a calm whisper, yet it roared like thunder in my tender ears. I looked up at Him, and tilted my head curiously again. “You are the first of my race of angels. I shall call you Lucifer.” I blinked, and looked at Him still, unsure of anything. Years may have passed during our silence, but I did not know. He smiled somewhat, and pulled away, waving His hands, making the air in front of me into a mirror. I stared at myself.

My body was lithe, although muscular. My eyes were completely black, white and all, with chin length black hair, soft, almost white skin pulled tight over muscles, and nine pairs of black things behind me. I was clothed in a dark midnight robe, which had a split running down the back to accommodate the flowing black shapes. I reached behind me, and grasped one, tugging it. I yelped, and dropped my hand, whimpering, and looking back pathetically at the thing.

“Now now, my son, do not do that. Those are your wings. They are extremely sensitive…it seems you need to be taught of your own strength, as well.” He gently soothed my self-inflicted pains by petting the wounded area, and I looked up at Him, a smile pulling across my features as the mirror dissipated. I felt the warmth and love literally oozing from my Father, and I closed my eyes, bowing my head in respect.

I miss the warmth I felt long ago, for now, in this place…in Hell…I am alone, surrounded by blood and monsters…monsters I created…my children…

More of my brothers and sisters were created as the years slid by. At first, I welcomed them and felt a sibling love for each, and for many centuries, wide-eyed angels would follow me as I taught them the ins and outs of the jobs our collective Father had showed me I was to do, and to teach those that followed me to do. They were taught to be guardians, to sympathize to Human ways, or to protect Heaven and all of its wonders. Angels were taught to guide the Humans, both through life and afterlife. I stood beside my Father’s throne, and all was well within my world. I was the second-most powerful creature, and I was the beloved of my Creator. I needed nothing more than his glowing eyes focused upon me, with a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. However, my golden service under my lord was to grow bitter, and black.

I was guardian to the most powerful man in the world, a Macedonian who had the powers to control all the world, and the capabilities as well. I sat beside him as he turned fitfully in sleep. He was approaching his final judgment, and the fever pained him. No man but he could see me, and I smiled regretfully to him, siphoning his some of his pain, taking it for my own. My chest stung, and he sighed, rasping coming from his throat, trying to thank me, and I shook my head. No thanks was needed. I could read it in his very soul, and he shifted, trying to find comfort in the heat of the bed’s cocoon that sat about him. I closed my eyes, as more soldiers were admitted to bid their beloved ruler a tearful goodbye. As the last man exited, he breathed deep once, and passed.

His soul looked at me with curious eyes, and he asked of my true purpose in his deep voice. I smiled somewhat, and tilted my head, replying of my presence’s meaning. Realization flooded his eyes, and I smiled. This one would at least reach Purgatory, an amazing feat before the Son was reborn, his religion, and the final idea of morality spread through the world. Humans have the right principal…just haven’t quite grasped the full idea yet. I was guiding him to the Gates when I felt the itch in my mind, a soft, tickling sensation really, and I instantly was beside my Creator. I stood beside Him, looking at Him curiously, and then my eyes fell on the newest angel. I gritted my teeth, but forced myself to relax as God smiled at the young child.

Recently…it seemed my beloved Creator had inched me aside…I received less of His affection and consideration…and it stung me, for He didn’t even seem to notice any of it. Some may say it’s selfish of me to think that way…but His impassiveness toward me was like a cancer, and it burned. No longer did He smile when I looked up at Him with the childish innocence of an angel. He just looked at me, as if I were for granted, and would turn away. I could feel His eyes crawling over me, picking out the defects and faults He had made in my creation…all the things He had improved as He created more and more angels. I rarely looked Him in the eye anymore, for that would betray my true feelings of Him. Contempt. Longing. Abandonment.

I looked in His general direction, and He studied His newest creation, a soft smile upon His face. “This is my newest son…Michael. I want you to take him under your wings.” I forced a bitter reply off my tongue, and forced a warm smile to touch my lips, although it didn’t reach my eyes. The young angel was looking at me in innocent curiosity, and my fake smile caused him to flinch. He shifted uneasily, and God looked over at me curiously. I rubbed my face.

“Forgive me, but I was fond of my latest charge. His death has saddened me, and caused me to drift away in melancholy thoughts. I am Lucifer, little one…Michael.” He nodded, and his blonde hair shifted into his face, clear blue eyes staring up at me. He had four wings, white, unlike mine, and I looked away, wishing this assignment done, or never given to me. I smiled, irritated, as God gave me His explanation speech of this son’s purpose. I nodded, and turned from my Creator, moving in a fluid stalk past the boy, keeping my back to my Creator as I spoke.

“Well, my lord, I must return to my chamber. I will do your bidding until you create a new folly for me to tend to.” Before He could reply, I was gone, the blonde boy scuttling after me, trying to keep up with my quick, long-legged pace. I stopped briefly outside the throne-room to look down at a sobbing red-haired angel. He curled tightly around himself, bitter tears rolling down his cheeks, and I sighed. He was the newest Angel of Death…no angel that took that position, other than me, had mentally survived the horrors they saw. Angels were good and innocent by nature…death, and the nature of it, was foreign and terrifying to them. I closed my eyes, offering him comfort by touching his shoulder, taking his mental anguish into me. He looked up at me, and stared at me, eyes widening at recognizing the Dark Angel. I must have been a horrifying and impressive sight to any young angel.

I now stood at an even seven feet, with tight black pants, and a tight black shirt. I was clothed in black armor, with two sword hilts, on my left hip, and on my back, between my wings, and wore a cloak that covered the front, rather than the back. The swords were impressive, forged by God Himself. The one on my hip was Blessing, a short, white-silver sword, about the length of an ankle to a knee on an average height girl, straight, broad, and double-sided. The handle was gold, and carved in a hooked shape. The sword upon my back, Wraith, was a jagged blade sword, the size, and length of a broadsword, black in color, with a silver handle, carved with double hooks. They were the twin swords I used in defending Heaven, God, and my charges. Demons, Men, and Angels alike trembled in my presence. I continued walking as bewildered and reverent eyes stared after me. Michael followed me, and I walked into my simply decorated chambers, in my favorite colors of black and red.

I gestured about to a chair, and he sat as I sunk into my own comfortable recliner. He stared at me, fidgeting nervously, and I began the task of explaining duties and things expected of the young creation. He listened aptly, and was smarter than I took him for, comprehending quicker than any of his predecessors. I continued, my voice turning into almost a drone, and I looked at him in boredom. “Any questions?”

Normally, they wouldn’t reply, but he…

“Yes…If we Angels are supposed to be impassive to Humans, why are we supposed to love them?” I blinked.

“…Impassive to their ways…judging and disapproving to their wickedness…but not their true good.” I had never been questioned so, and I stared at him. He continued to fire off questions e, ae, and for many long nights, even after I finished his training, he would come and we would debate over questions of faith. I fancied Michael, and I admit, he was beautiful. Angels were not impervious to sexual desires, no matter what sort of celibacy they claimed. It was only Angels themselves that tried to impose ‘priesthood’ amongst themselves, and I laughed at them silently. I myself currently had no desire to lay with any being, except perhaps Michael, but he was too sweet and innocent to contemplate such things. There was one other I thought of laying with, but she was locked far away, the favored of my created sisters, to me at least. She was the Earth Angel, Gaia, overseer of all events upon the Human plain. She knew all as she gazed into her crystal globe, and she and I had been quite a match, wit for wit, word for word. She was an extremely interesting conversation partner, with a spice to her calm attitude.

I sprawl now, one leg over my throne as I stare into the endless abyss before me…my ‘Fall’ is what troubles me the most…

I couldn’t stand my Creator any longer. He felt so cold to me…so impassive…at the time, I didn’t realize it was from the pain of His beloved Humans’ and their sins…and now that I reflect upon it, I couldn’t care less. I don’t care. Damn Him. It pained me, to see He and I so distant, and all of the Angels knew it. There was tension between us, like one was ready to explode and spring upon the other. We were an even match in power, but He had followers, where I had not. I stood before Him one day, our eyes matched, my…my…-hatred- for Him burning in my eyes. He seemed shocked, and pained, and asked me in a sorrowful voice, “What causes you such anger, my Lucifer?”

“The reasons are no concern of yours, God. I, however, have come to offer myself to be placed in a new position.” I saw Michael out of the corner of my eye, and his eyes were pained, and shocked. I spied Gaia as well, and her face was blank, looking at the ground sorrowfully. God seemed hurt, and spoke in a soft tone. I barely recognized that all of the Angels now stood in the room.

“What position is that, my…” I cut him off before he could finish.”

“You need someone with experience with death and sin to run the place you send souls when they are too wicked to enter Purgatory. They clog the waiting room, do they not? I have come to offer to run such a place, so that none of these weak willed fools will be forced to do the same.” My words were cold, and dripping cruelty. God swallowed, and looked at me. He did not understand my anger. I glared at him impatiently. He was pained, and thought for long moments.

“…Very well, Lucifer. I shall appoint you as the Hell Angel…but I warn you…it is nothing like Heaven there.”

“Good.” I turned, and walked out, shoving several Angels out of my way as I disappeared to the mouth of the Wicked Plain. God stared after me, and a tear came to His eye. Perhaps His beloved child was not as mature as He thought…

I stood before Hell, before slowly going inside. The interior was dark, and a twisted mirror image of the world above. Black and decay surrounded me, and I swallowed, disappearing to the throne room. A black crystal throne sat upon a raised dais, behind a black alter. I exhaled deeply, and stared down at a pond sized puddle of crimson…and I balked when I realized it was blood. Not just any blood. The blood of the innocent. I inhaled deeply, and smelled the brimstone humans were always preaching of…so this is how true Hell was. Torture for the unforgivably wicked…Contemplation amongst the innocent murdered for the rest…

I ran a hand through my hair, and felt my wings stiffen when I realized there were eyes upon me. I turned slowly, and a grouping of demons crouched behind me. They were winged, and seemed almost serpentine, but with human forms. They trilled at me curiously, and the smallest of the group crawled forward to me, nuzzling my hand with its muzzle. It was a Fear Demon. The kind that chooses its prey based upon the terror they smell within the victim. I kept myself serenely calm, and the small one licked my hand like a puppy, trilling and purring at me. I raised a hand, and scratched the base near the horns that sprouted from the demon’s head. It purred, and the rest came forward, trilling, barking, purring, and whining for their own dose of attention. I patted and scratched each one in turn, walking over to the throne and sitting in it, as the demons crawled over with me, making themselves comfortable around the throne, the smallest resting itself in my lap.

The blood pond grew bigger by the day, and I eventually saw more and more souls wandering and weeping through out Hell. Demons flocked to me, pledging their allegiances to me, and I just laughed and waved my hand dismissively at first. But as I heard more and more of God’s creations, I grew bitterer and bitterer until I was accepting all of the pledges of loyalty to me. The Demon race had heard of my defiance and my anger…and they knew who to come to.

One night, God sent a messenger to speak with me about the Demon alliances I was forming. I sent the Angel back after I let the Incubi keep him for a week. They broke him, tore out his wings, and raped him many times. I felt anguish in my mind…and I turned away. God wanted me to be independent, and He wanted me to bow down to him submissively…I declared my hatred upon Him…and our worlds have since slipped into war. The Angels that fell and joined me became high-ranking Demon lords…and I created my own monsters, much as God created his Angels. Many things have happened since I fell…but those are tales for another time.

If you ask me later, I may be inclined to tell you of Michael and Gaia, what happened to them? On the other hand, perhaps, I will tell you of the pretty black haired angel curled in my lap Thanatos…or maybe of Damoah, my son. Just ask me…and perhaps I will tell you of more of those in my world…Just ask.

Fin.

Authoress’ Note:

Lucifer appears in his own story as well as Hellsing…If I can ever be bothered to, I’ll write something with him in it. I may even continue this storyline…just ask. Otherwise, it stays as is. I just started writing, and this came out. So…yeah…God/He/Him/His/Angels/Demons/Humans are capitalized for a reason…So yeah…feedback appreciated…moo. If anyone reads this…I doubt they will.