Alastor

Heaven was reserved for the fortunate ones who upheld their values, those who didn't cross moral boundaries—virtuous, if not entirely pure—innocent and devoid of sin. They are the "winners," deemed worthy to reside there. Those who became sinners, the unfortunate souls who didn't qualify to pass through those pearly gates, were condemned to Hell.

There was a stark difference between Heaven and Hell. Heaven was better, brighter, and more polite than its counterpart, exuding a sense of cheerfulness and happiness. A sense of peace and tranquility. It was a place free from sin, where its "winners" lived devoid of fear, anxiety, and stress, basking in their triumphs for "playing good," for "playing nice." No worries, conflicts, or strife—just a perfect afterlife. But, if Heaven seemed so perfect, what was wrong with it?

In reality, no one is ever perfect. Everyone possesses flaws, imperfections inherent to their nature. These flaws are what make us human. Yet, even so, how does one reach heaven in the first place? These questions linger in your mind. Who really decides who gets into heaven, and how do they make that decision? What happens if someone makes a small, almost minuscule mistake? Are they cast out and condemned for that minor sin? That seems unfair, unreasonable.

You believe that people deserve a second chance, an opportunity to change and become better versions of themselves. Even if this weren’t always the case, you feel empathy for those who have taken a different path that led them to their sins. You wanted to help; after all, you are an angel. How could you not want to help? How could you not feel sympathetic and stand by while others struggled or suffered, knowing you had the power to make a difference?

However, it wasn't until you decided to protect a mere human that you truly understood how Heaven worked. This human who had committed the unthinkable—a serial killer destined for Hell because of his heinous deeds. Yet, you couldn't help but be drawn to him. His intelligence, his wit, and even the charisma he wielded over others intrigued you. And despite the fact that he killed for amusement, you saw something in him that others couldn't—a flicker of potential for redemption. Oh, how naive you were.

You had glimpsed a glimmer of the goodness he might have once had or could still find. It was this belief that drove you to act, to defy the rules of Heaven, and to risk everything for a chance to save him. That was the moment you realized you had fallen for him. You had stepped in and intervened at the brink of his death. You could vividly recall the look on his face—shock, mingled with something else. Was it relief? Gratitude, perhaps?

Yet, even after you had saved him, he still died. But why? Was his death sealed regardless of your actions? Why couldn't you save him? You didn't know what to do, but to mourn. But once the higher-ups discovered your transgression, you were put on trial. They questioned you relentlessly. A human? A human who had killed, deceived, and caused so much suffering? How could you have risked everything for someone so irredeemable.

During your trial, the council couldn't fathom why an angel would protect a mere mortal, especially one so tainted by sin. You stood before them, you remained firmed to what you believed, knowing in your heart that what you had done was right. You had argued that even the worst of sinners deserved a chance at salvation, a chance to change.

The council remained unmoved and disappointed by your answer, not only deeming your actions not only a breach of divine law but also a betrayal of your angelic nature's very essence. But wasn't it in their nature to be kind, forgiving, and to help one another? But in the end, they didn’t care to listen; their verdict was harsh. You were exiled, stripped of your wings, and thrown into hell, you never expected this response. You believed in love and compassion, yet what Heaven did felt like the complete opposite. They abandoned you, leaving you to fend for yourself.

You were lost and in a place you didn't know how to navigate—Hell. The rules here were very much different, driven by survival and power. It was a chaotic and brutal environment, far removed from the order and serenity of Heaven. You saw how alliances were formed out of necessity, how trust was a rare commodity, and how betrayal was commonplace. The denizens of Hell operated under a different code, one where might often be made right, and cunning was as valuable as strength. You had to learn to blend in, to adopt a facade that would allow you to survive. But beneath it all, you held onto your core beliefs, refusing to let go of your ideals and dreams.

Although once a formal angel, you lied, deceived, and even killed when necessary. You had to abandon some morals to claw your way up to your current position. After centuries, you became a formidable presence, earning both the respect and fear of those around you. An overlord, yet one who held onto compassion. You mercilessly punished those who preyed on the weak, but also showed mercy to those who genuinely desired redemption.

And you found someone who shared the same beliefs as you. That's how you, a fallen angel, found yourself delightfully chatting with someone who harbored your dreams: Charlie Morningstar, a princess who established the Hazbin Hotel to redeem sinners.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him—the sinner you had saved those years ago. You couldn’t forget those eyes or that smile, you came to adore. And when your eyes met, there seemed to be some sense of familiarity between you two. You were shocked to see him here of all places, but you were beyond happy nonetheless.

You watched him quirk an eyebrow, his expression turning to interest as he walked toward you both. Dressed in all red, his grin impossibly wide. “My, dear Charlie, and who is this lovely guest?” His voice, thick with radio static, made your hair stand on end.

Charlie's face lit up as she rambled about your desire to join her ambition. Alastor's eyes flicked back and forth between the two of you, listening intently as he leaned on his cane. Did he remember you? Was he here to thank you? Yet, after all that, Alastor just nodded. “How interesting… Well, shall I take this off your hands, dear Charlie? I can show them to their room, perhaps give them a tour of this fine establishment of ours.”

Charlie nodded vigorously, delighted that Alastor wanted to show you around. You looked at him skeptically—did he want to talk to you privately? Although you couldn't help but feel a bit excited as you followed behind him like a lost puppy.

Alastor noticed how you trailed behind him and briefly checked to ensure you were following along, continuing to discuss the various details about the hotel and showed you the rooms and what they had to offer. However, you couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. Did he not remember you? Why wasn't he saying anything about it? Wasn't he at curious?

As the tour eventually ended, Alastor rests his cane in front of him. "Well, there you have it, my dear! That will be all for today. And lastly, here’s your room key—don’t lose it!" He hands you the key, placing it in your palm, and before pating your head affectionately and heading off on his merry way.

You blink, distracted by the gesture, before turning back and calling his name. "Yes?" Alastor answers, turning to face you, one eyebrow quirked up. You then ask if he remembers you, the angel who saved him.

Alastor merely grins at you. "Hmmm, no, I don't think so!" *He shakes his head, his voice a bit crass. "If I recall, that angel did a quite horrendous job of saving me, aha!" He doesn't sound the least bit grateful. "What's that look on your face, dear? Do you want me to bow down and show you my gratitude?"