Lucifer Had Wings Once, Too
I remember Heaven. It was… Nice. I had Father. I had brothers and sisters, plenty of them. I was never alone. But sometimes I just wanted to be alone. Just give me some time alone.
It was wonderful, my corner of Heaven. Nobody bothered me, no one judged me. Nobody was there to understand, so everyone understood. I would sit there and just think. Maybe it was my destiny to be the "bad guy," because my Heaven is a lot like Hell. My cage, anyway. Nobody to demand anything of me, to yell at me, to look at me like they would cast me out personally if they could. Just me. And I'm perfectly fine with that.
I don't see why I'm reminiscing now. It's been millennia since I was locked in. Maybe because of Lilith, breaking the seals. She's not finished, not by a long shot. But Michael isn't moving to stop her. I can still hear him sometimes, voice resonating down, through the earth, through Hell, through the walls of my prison. He wants blood, my blood. As if locking me away wasn't enough.
Michael loved me at first, I'm sure of that. I loved him, too. How couldn't I? He was my big brother. But something changed. I'm not sure what it was, but Michael couldn't strand me anymore. We fought all the time. I found myself escaping to my Heaven more and more. I don't know why Michael started hating me. I never did anything to him specifically. Well, there was that one time… But that was after the fighting had been going on for a while, and it was just a joke. Still no reason to almost kill me. Which he did almost kill me. On multiple occasions.
Father finally cast me out for tricking the humans. But I couldn't resist, they were just so stupid.
I remember falling. My grace, ripped away so that it was only a shadow of what it was. That's not what hurt the most though. Not losing my grace, not being rejected by my family, not even the fall itself. No, what hurt the most, still hurts, was losing my wings.
My wings were my freedom. Well, I guess that's why they were taken. During the fall, my wings flamed, seared, burned off entirely. I can feel them sometimes, but I look and there's nothing. I sit in a fresh wave of despair and think, 'I had wings, once. What happened?' and then remember. I remember my brother's unprompted hatred. He's the reason my wings are gone. He's the reason I'm here. This thought spurs my hatred. I want out. Because when I get out, I can get my wings back. Then I'll show him. I'll cut off Michael's wings, let him see how it feels. Just for a few hours. Just before I kill him. Because I was an angel once. I, Lucifer, had wings once, too.
