Title: This is the story of you and me
Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. title from Luther Vandross
Warnings: future!fic
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 310
Point of view: third
Her army is dust before him, smoke and ash and the scent of sulfur. Her castle of bone and ivory crumbles at his scantest touch, leaving her dark throne in the midst of rubble. Her banner unravels and the threads settle at his feet.
She stands alone against him at the end, body wracked with shivers as snow falls in Hell for the first time since the beginning.
"Lilith," he says softly, caressing her pale cheek with his bloody handy. "Beautiful, arrogant Lilith."
She glares at him, jaw quivering with held-in words.
He will ask it once. "Where is my brother?"
"Not here," she answers. "Nowhere you can find him." Her eyes flash with hate, rage, one final chance at defiance. She has had supreme power for eons, since Lucifer vanished. She has forgotten the cloying taste of fear.
His anger lashes for her, settling around her in chains. "Lilith," he purrs, stalking closer, circling her. "I am not in the mood. I just destroyed your kingdom. I want my brother. Now."
She smirks. "He isn't here, boy." She stares at him straight on. "He isn't anywhere anymore."
Her army is gone, along with her court. All of her followers are dead or fled. She has no reason to lie—except to cause him pain, vengeance for the destruction.
He rips apart her mind, digging for any piece of information. He shatters her consciousness, leaving her an empty shell, and then he burns her body from existence.
She did not lie. He single-handedly defeated Hell and Lilith did not lie. Standing in the center of the Pit, he screams, throwing outward and upward all the emotions he's held tightly in his grasp for a year, desperation and rage and pain and fear. Hell trembles at the onslaught, teetering on the edge of oblivion—
Lilith did not lie and Hell falls.