Chapter Text
Wriothesley didn't question the Heavenly Principles.
Perhaps, he should have. But that would have gone against everything he was taught ever since he was created. It was against the rules that people kept repeating to him. Rules that he heard more often the higher he climbed in ranks.
'Thou shall not question the ways of Heaven.'
'Do what thou are ordered, that is thy job.'
'The Primordial One's will is absolute. Thou must spread their holy influence to the fools and the ignorant.’
And other bullshit rules like that.
Thus, Wriothesley never questioned the Heavenly Principals, even if everything they told him didn't make sense. He wouldn't question their logic even if it felt like he spent most of his days masquerading in the wrong body.
It was unheard of for angels to be dissatisfied with their physical manifestations. They were perfect beings of divinity, made with the care and love of their creator's own hands. Yet, Wriothesley couldn't help but feel wrong whenever he caught sight of his reflection. He tried to wear bigger robes so he wouldn't be able to notice his big chest. When that didn't work, he ripped an old robe and used its material to tie it tightly around his chest. It made him feel a little better but he still didn't feel right.
He tried to cut his hair once, after he got too frustrated by its length. He couldn't bear to hear every woman in Heaven compliment his hair for how long it was compared to everyone else's. By the time he felt good about his appearance, he came to the realization that he cut it too short. His God was not pleased by his actions and ordered Wriothesley to never do it again. As his hair started to grow back, he felt the need to cut it again but he didn't want to defy the Heavenly Principles. Instead, he opted for braids and buns and other hairstyles that didn't allow his hair to spill around and remind him of its existence.
Despite his best efforts to adjust his appearance, he was left disappointed at every turn. The others didn't want to help him. They called him silly when Wriothesley asked them to refer to him as a man, they said he's weird when he told them to call him ’Wriothesley’.
Moreover, they kept repeating to him that he was a pretty woman and perfect the way he was, there was no need for him to change that. They argued that his Creator gave him a beautiful name, one fitting for the most serene angels, and he shouldn't wish to rename himself.
After all, the Heavenly Principles were perfect and they could never be wrong in their judgment. If they told Wriothesley that he must obey then he had no choice but to follow their commands. If they reassured him that his body was perfect and there wasn't any mistake when he was created, then he couldn't argue with them.
He couldn't question or doubt the Heavenly Principles. Because they were all-knowing, his words were meaningless and these feelings of wrongness were just the demons trying to get into his head and make him betray the Gods.
Or so he was told by his peers.
And they were right, weren't they? Phanes never gave them a reason to doubt their words. They were full of love for their people, they never harmed anyone. The Primordial One wanted the best for the world.
"▇▇▇▇▇▇ it's time to go down," an elderly voice called out the moment he entered the great hall in a hurry. Wriothesley huffed at the sound of that name. He insisted many times to be addressed as ‘Wriothesley’ but his people ignored him every single time. He finishes braiding his long, white hair, attempting to smooth out the pesky tuffs on top of his head – frowning in dissatisfaction when they sprung back up every time – and makes his way towards his elder.
"I'm here, sir!" he announced the moment he reached the angel's side, wearing a smile that could reflect the sun despite his dissatisfaction with the name he keeps getting called. "What is my commission for today?"
“You're late,” the elder replied with annoyance. “You're going down with Boethius, he will explain your job to you," he stated and went back to calling other angels for their job of that day. The angel wasn't surprised by his rude behavior, the older angel was infamous for the fact that he hated to repeat himself, it was useless to ask him questions of the mission if he already told Boethius their purpose for today. Besides there was no one to blame but himself for being late.
Wriothesley's icy eyes swept the place until he finally found Boethius. He was humoring some angels in the corner of the room. It was hard to miss him, his presence attracted attention wherever he went. He was a well-built, tall man with thick, shoulder-length golden hair. His eyes always seemed to carry a natural suave charm that had many of Heaven's ladies swooning at his feet. Wriothesley did not understand the appeal. If anything, the man was kind of an asshole – Heavens forgive his crude words.
The other angels giggled at something Boethius said and bid their farewell just as Wriothesley made his way to them.
"What's the deal?" Wriothesley crossed his arms over his chest. He could feel the start of a headache the moment Boethius' eyes were on him. The man in front of him was the last person Wriothesley wanted to work with.
"Some girl that murdered her family in cold blood for her own gain, her soul is tainted beyond salvation," Boethius answered disinterestedly, which irked him further. Did nothing matter to this guy? "We have to execute her and make sure she gets to Hell, that's the order."
Wriothesley put his annoyance aside and nodded slowly as he digested the information. Nothing different from his usual orders, just another person who selfishly took the lives of other human beings. Those people always filled Wriothesley with dread. He didn't understand how they could be so inhumane and take away someone's life. Life was a gift given from Heaven. Anyone who took away that gift was a twisted soul that made Wriothesley sick.
"Cass, give ▇▇▇▇▇▇ her spear," Wriothesley was rudely interrupted from his thoughts by Boethius' voice calling out to someone. Wriothesley recognized the angel as the one who was usually paired with Boethius in his missions. His body was not as bulked nor was he as tall as his partner, but his eyes were kind. The type of kind that could put you at ease by just looking at them when you woke up from a nightmare – not that angels could experience nightmares. In Wriothesley's opinion, Cassiodor was way more handsome than Boethius. Besides his golden heart and attractiveness, Cassiodor was also one of the few angels that was supportive and respectful of Wriothesley's identity. He doesn't know why the man was on his side when all of his peers thought he was crazy, but it was nice to have someone who didn't find him bizarre.
Rumors surrounding Cassiodor were ones shrouded in mystery. Allegedly, Cassiodor was forced to take leave from work after a gruesome injury. The details of said injury were hazy at best, but most were able to conclude that an altercation had happened between Cassiodor and Boethius ending up with the former wounded from their own angelic weaponry. The entire thing was a very unfortunate accident, therefore Boethius was forgiven as he did not intend to harm his friend.
The event scared the entire Heaven, as lots of angels thought it was impossible for them to get harmed. They weren't wrong, it was impossible to harm angels – until now at least. No one knew what to do with this information.
“I told you before not to call him by that name,” Cassiodor chided Boethius which rewarded him with a tiny smile from Wriothesley. Boethius grumbled something under his breath, clearly displeased by it and Wriothesley had to hold back from smirking triumphantly at him. "Be careful down there," he added as he handed Wriothesley the spear. His gaze was filled with concern and Wriothesley couldn't blame him for his fear after the injury he suffered.
"Thank you," Wriothesley answered with a tender smile, taking the spear with delicate fingers and looking Cassiodor straight in the eyes. That seemed to put the other angel at ease. He almost wondered if his own eyes had the same effect as Cassiodor's.
"Let's go already, I don't want this to take us longer than needed," Boethius interrupted them, yanking Wriothesley by the arm.
Wriothesley scowled at him, pulling his arm back from Boethius’ grip and following the angel. "Jeez, alright." he grumbled, carefully fixing his sleeve.
They made their way to the platform – the one they were using to travel from Heaven to Earth – and climbed on it, waiting to be sent down with the rest of the angels. Wriothesley has always been really curious about how the platform worked, he had tried to pinpoint its mechanism once but came empty handed. When he questioned someone older about it, they said it worked using Phanes’ will. Which made no sense because he was quite sure it was a machine that worked like any other, but he let it go. He was determined to find out one day what was behind this machinery, but not today. Today he had to go to work.
Wriothesley had a few more minutes to think about this mission before they were being sent down. He decided that he would be the one to do the execution and when he raised his suggestion to Boethius, the angel agreed in the same dull tone that made Wriothesley's eye twitch. He knew he had more experience than Boethius, despite them being in the same rank. Everyone knew that Wriothesley was Phanes’ most trusted higher rank, therefore they never argued with him. They always praised him for his loyalty and faith, completely oblivious to the doubts Wriothesley always tried to push away. All that praise just to be treated like an idiot when he had different feelings from the others. It wasn't like he was the only angel that dreamed of a life where he wasn't trapped in this body, right?
The platform started glowing under them, signaling that it was time. Wriothesley hated this process, it always made his wings feel tingly. The way the light was caressing his body made his skin crawl. Other angels described this feeling as something pleasant but to him it felt like a violation. Despite that, he got used to the feeling as his visits to Earth increased.
The glow became brighter, enveloping them. For a moment, he couldn't feel anything under his feet anymore. He felt stranded as he couldn't see anything beside the blinding light in front of his eyes. Then his feet hit the ground once more, splashing water around as he ended up landing in a puddle. Blinking a few times to regain his vision, he looked up at what looked to be an orphanage. The place looked like it came straight out of a scary movie. Fall came earlier this year, the trees already lost their color, making the nature around them look dead. The night was approaching rapidly and the only noises around them came from the patter of rain and the angry wind. This place was so devoid of life compared to Heaven. His home was clean and pure, bad weather was a foreign concept to him. The sun was always out in Heaven, he loved basking into it even though he couldn't feel the rays of the sun – nor the droplets of rain – on his body. Angel bodies were shielded, they couldn't be affected by outside forces. The rain was supposed to soak them and their feet should've been muddy but Wriothesley and Boethius were unaffected.
From the looks of it, the place was located very far away from the city, which made it a perfect place for committing a crime without drawing too much attention. Judging by the sorry state of the yard, Wriothesley doubts the orphanage had many visitors. It might take days for anyone to find out about the murder, maybe even weeks.
A tremble wrecked Wriothesley's body as realization that their target might have murdered someone from this orphanage hit him. The children? Their parents? Both options sounded just as horrible. No matter who this monster was, Wriothesley was ready to send them to get the punishment they deserved as he marched to the door of the orphanage.
The door creaked open and they went inside. The building was dark and silent, their glowing bodies being their only source of light. Wriothesley pushed the door closed behind them as he made his way deeper inside, not wasting his time waiting for the other angel. There were photos of children on every wall, all of them smiling and laughing while they looked at the camera.
Except for one.
He stopped in front of a photo of a young girl. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was dressed in a stunning blue dress. However, she wasn't smiling at the camera. Her eyes looked tired, like she went through a lot. Wriothesley felt sympathetic for her.
Boethius nudged him to move and they went deeper inside the house. He couldn't help but feel uneasy at how silent this place was. Just as he opened another door expecting more silence, the image before him made him want to throw up.
The bodies of two adults laid down in front of them, their blood spilling all over the floor from the knives stabbed in their chests, they were undoubtedly dead. No matter how many times he saw mortal blood, it still made him feel sick to the stomach.
A noise caught his attention and his gaze went to something – or rather someone – that he failed to notice when he entered the room. A young boy was sitting with his back against the wall, exhausted and barely alive.
But no sight of their target.
Did their target run away? Not likely, they wouldn't have been sent here if this was the case. So the murderer was still in this house.
"She has to be somewhere in the house, let's go find her," Wriothesley said, turning to look at Boethius. Before he could complain that the man was just staring at the child and doing nothing, he spoke.
"No need, that's her," Boethius stated, pointing at the young boy. Wriothesley looked back at the child and frowned. The boy couldn't be older than sixteen mortal years, his black hair and clothes were now dirtied by blood. His neck had three big gashes across it, something that should've killed the young boy instantly, but somehow he was still alive. Confusion painted Wriothesley's face.
"Huh?" he answered cleverly. After double checking the boy he spoke again. "Our target is a woman, this is a young boy," the angel remarked.
"That's our target," Boethius argued exasperatedly. "She wouldn't be able to see us if she wasn't."
And he was right. The boy (girl?) was staring right at them with his icy blue eyes. He didn't look scared though, he looked calm. Almost like he was waiting for this moment.
Wriothesley stared back at him, hesitating, as if he didn't know what he had to do. He did know what came next, but he was unsure, confused with the situation.
He never executed a child before. After all, they were pure and full of love and care. What exactly could have made this child do something so violent?
For the first time in his life, he felt the need to get answers from his target.
Wriothesley gripped the spear in his hand and approached the child carefully, as if he was approaching a wild animal, trying not to scare him and make him flee. Although, the child didn't even flinch. Instead, his eyes were burning through Wriothesley's body. Once he was close enough, the angel crouched down in front of the boy and placed his spear on the floor, holding out his hands to show the child that he was harmless. That was far from the truth though, given the reason why he was here.
"Young lady–"
"Not a lady," the child interrupted him with gritted teeth. He could see the hatred for that word in the child's eyes.
The reaction surprised Wriothesley, a feeling of understanding flashing through his eyes.
"Young boy," he corrected himself and the child relaxed once again. "Why did you kill your parents?"
"They are not our parents!" the venom in the boy's voice had taken him aback. So much hatred in his voice. "They were selling all the children to the black market, it was the only way I could save my siblings!"
Wriothesley's eyes widened in response. Hearing the reason of the child left him speechless. Was he lying? It didn't sound like it. If what he said was true then these children were victims of some fucked up individuals and this boy had tried to save his siblings from them. Did Heaven know about their condition? They probably didn't, otherwise they would have been sent to deal with the parents themselves.
"I know you're here to kill me," the boy mumbled. "Just do it already. After all, you could at least end my suffering if you failed to protect my siblings."
The words stung Wriothesley. It was not the first time he witnessed people losing faith in divinity but to see such a young boy doubt Heaven's love was heartbreaking.
“We weren't aware of what was happening” he tried to assure the boy, although his words didn't sound convincing even to himself. “We would have saved you if we knew about your situation. Heaven always delivers justice no matter–”
He was interrupted by the child's laugh. It didn't sound right, it was cold and full of mockery. “Is this what they tell you? If Heaven cared about me, I wouldn't have needed to deliver justice myself.”
“You're mistaken…” Wriothesley pleaded with the child to listen to his words, but the young boy wasn't having it.
“Kill me!” the boy snapped, grabbing a hold of Wriothesley's spear and bringing it to his chest. The alarm went off in Wriothesley's brain as he grabbed his spear before the child could plunge it into his little heart. His own heart was beating wildly in his chest while the kid was staring at him, full of hatred. Hatred for what his parents had done to them. Hatred for Heaven.
A child knowing that his end was coming and accepting it with open arms, even begging for it. They were supposed to execute a child who still had an entire life ahead to redeem himself, a child who was already heavily injured. A child they have failed.
Wriothesley felt sick.
This couldn't be right. They couldn't kill a child for doing something he thought would save his siblings from two monsters. Wriothesley felt anger for the two people that were already dead. If they were still alive, maybe Wriothesley would have killed them himself. He would have driven his own spear through their filthy and wicked hearts. That would have guaranteed that they end up in Hell where they belonged, but because they weren't killed by an executioner like Wriothesley, that meant they will be reborn on Earth and live their lives unbothered while this child was supposed to end up in Hell in their stead. Such disgusting people, stripping such pure souls of their innocence. The child did not deserve to die for something like this.
But... the Heavenly Principles were never wrong. He couldn't doubt their judgment. They were right in everything they said. There had to be something bad about this child.
So why did he feel so wrong? Why did he feel like he couldn't do what he was asked to do?
He had to do his job, he had to.
But as the young boy stared at him with those blue eyes, eyes that were devoid of the pureness you'd usually see in a child, he felt too weak.
Heaven gave second chances to people who did worse, so why did they not give this child one?
Wriothesley felt like he couldn't move. This was wrong, so so wrong. Maybe Boethius mistook their orders. This child couldn't be their target.
He just couldn't.
"Get out of the way," Wriothesley was grabbed by the shoulders and tossed aside, wrapping his wings around his body to shield himself from the impact. "You're taking too long, I'll do it," Boethius scowled at him before turning back to the boy.
Wriothesley could feel his blood run cold. The scene playing in slow motion in his mind as Boethius’ spear got close to the young boy. He snapped in action before he could think, grabbing his spear that fell on the floor next to him and flying to the child with all the speed he could muster. With a blow from his own spear, he knocked Boethius' weapon across the room.
"Are you crazy?" Boethius snarled at him as Wriothesley got in front of the child, shielding him from the danger. He didn't understand what came over him but he couldn't let this boy die. "Are you defying our orders?"
Wriothesley didn't have time to defend his intentions as Boethius' spear flew back into his hand and he thrust towards him.
“Wait–” Wriothesley tried, blocking Boethius’ spear before it could pierce him. Pure adrenaline poured through his blood. “This can't be right–”
“It is right!”
“This is just a child! Our orders must be wrong!” He tried to argue to no avail.
“Our instructions were clear,” Boethius snapped, ignoring Wriothesley's attempts to explain himself.
Everything felt like a blur, the spears knocking against each other, Boethius' angry sounds as he tried to get to the child. Wriothesley didn't let him.
“The people he killed are child traffickers, he was just trying to–”
“She is a murderer!” Boethius interrupted him and thrust his spear forward again. Wriothesley was caught off guard and didn't have enough time to react.
Pure pain came from his wing as Boethius successfully cut through it with the spear. Pain, something he never felt before. It made him lose his balance a little, but he gritted his teeth and pushed the angel back with the handle of his spear. Blood oozed out of the wound but he didn't let it distract him.
“Did you forget what happens if you defy orders?” Boethius scowled as he regained the balance on his feet. “No matter, I will punish you and finish our job,” the angel spit out with pure hatred.
“You have to listen to me!” Wriothesley insisted, desperation clear in his voice. Boethius just sneered.
“You betrayed Heaven and our Creator!”
“I didn't,” Wriothesley implored. The hatred the other angel was emanating was starting to scare him. Boethius didn't even give him an opportunity to clarify his point, too determined to finish their job and defend Heaven from ‘traitors’.
At this point he wasn't only doing this to protect the child but also to protect himself from Boethius’ unforgiving blade.
The other angel charged forward, spear in hand, ready to punish Wriothesley for his disobedience.
A gasp left his lips and the child behind him screamed. Wriothesley felt his hands tremble as he stared at the scene before him.
His spear was impaled into Boethius' chest, his blood spilling on the floor and mixing with the one of the child's dead parents. Boethius fell and Wriothesley scrambled after him. Falling to his knees next to him and shaking him to try to keep him awake.
"No, no, no, no-" Wriothesley kept repeating, praying that he just happened to be the first angel who ever experienced a nightmare and that he didn't do what he thinks he did.
He killed one of his people. He killed an innocent being.
The young boy behind him fell unconscious from blood loss, his eyes closing to the image of pure white hair turning grayish.
Wriothesley killed another angel.
He didn't protest when he was found and hauled out by two angels. Still too shaken by his own actions. Wriothesley would never regret protecting the child's life but he couldn't forgive himself for doing it by taking another's. He didn't know what happened to the young boy after they left but he hoped he was fine. Wriothesley wouldn't be able to live with the guilt if all of this resulted in not one, but two deaths.
They threw him inside a cell, muttering something about his judgment being soon. Whatever that meant, it didn't scare him. No, instead he felt disgusted with himself. He curled in the corner of the cell and wept.
Angels were happy creatures, so why was he crying? Was it because he was ashamed? Sad? Or was it because he felt guilty for all of this mess? Angels couldn't get dirty so why were his clothes and hands stained with blood? Boethius' blood that he frantically tried to stop from spilling. But to no avail, in the end Boethius died by his hand.
Now that the adrenaline finally wore down, he could feel pain in the wing that got pierced. No one bothered to treat his wing, the blood now dried on his feathers adding to his discomfort. It was an antagonizing feeling and it only served as a reminder of what Boethius must have felt the moment Wriothesley drove his spear through his heart.
He winced as he wrapped his wings around his body, desperate for a way to shield himself from everything. More tears fell silently from his eyes as he replayed the images again and again in his mind. He felt guilty but he also felt so goddamn angry. If only Boethius listened to him, heard what he had to say. If he didn't attack Wriothesley then maybe this wouldn't have happened.
He curled more into himself at the sound of approaching footsteps, trying to make himself look as tiny as possible. Clearly, it didn't work because the person stopped in front of his cell.
“You want some grapes?” Wriothesley's head snapped up in the direction of the person the moment he heard the familiar voice. Cassiodor greeted him with a tiny smile that wasn't reaching his eyes. Wriothesley figured it was fair, after all he was covered in blood so he couldn't blame the other man for being skeptical around him. Despite trying to hide it, there was some fear in those deep, blue eyes. “No?” he questioned, bringing a perfectly ripe grape to his lips and eating it.
“No…” Wriothesley managed to answer after a moment. He didn't think he could eat anything without throwing it all back out.
Cassiodor didn't press him. “I like what you did to your hair, it fits you.”
The statement confused Wriothesley, but instead of focusing on that, his mind had another question. Why was he here? Well… he was Boethius’ friend so he probably was here because he didn't know why his friend hadn't returned and Wriothesley was locked up while looking like a mess. His heart squeezed in his chest just recalling the memories of what occurred.
“I'm sorry,” Wriothesley averted his gaze, he couldn't look Cassiodor in the eyes. He knew it wasn't considered a polite thing to do but he didn't want to see what look Cassiodor might have on his face. Those kind eyes weren't supposed to grieve.
He heard the other man sigh before he spoke again. “What happened there?”
Wriothesley paused, not sure if it was safe for him to share this information with Cassiodor. He couldn't really trust Boethius' friend. But… he was also one of his people and the Heavenly Principles always said that Wriothesley should trust them with his entire heart. How much more damage would it cause if Cassiodor knew, anyway? He will still get punished and there will be rumors circulating in Heaven. It's better if Cassiodor gets his source right from Wriothesley instead of some gossiping angels.
“I couldn't execute my target,” Wriothesley started, purposely leaving out details of the boy. Cassiodor didn't need all the information after all. “I… I tried to defend them and Boethius got angry,” he gulped at the memory. “So we fought and I tried to defend myself, in the end I…” killed him was left unsaid, but Cassiodor caught what the sentence implied.
“Boethius was always–” Cassiodor paused, trying to choose his words carefully. “–passionate about his missions.”
Silence filled the space between them as Wriothesley turned Cassiodor's words inside his head. He failed to understand why the angel sounded so sympathetic with Wriothesley after he just told him he killed his friend.
“Are you not afraid of me?” Wriothesley asked after some time. Cassiodor looked way too calm and it was driving him crazy.
“No,” before Wriothesley could argue and tell him that he should be, the angel continued. “Heaven is not what it used to be, not anymore,” there was a hint of melancholy in his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper but Wriothesley still caught his words. He had no idea what they meant. What exactly changed in Heaven? “They will choose your punishment tonight,” he carried on as if he hadn't just said something that filled Wriothesley's head with so many new questions.
He didn't reply to that, he didn't feel like he needed to. He already knew he would get punished.
“Are you sure you don't want some grapes?” Cassiodor was trying to lighten up the mood, he knew he was. Even though he knew his intentions, the question still managed to make the corners of Wriothesley's mouth twitch into a faint smile.
“No,” Wriothesley shook his head. Despite his amusement, Cassiodor's words were still ringing in his head. He wanted to ask the other man what he meant by them, but before he could so Cassiodor interrupted his thoughts.
“I will take my leave now,” Cassiodor announced.
Wriothesley nodded, the tuffs on top of his head bobbing with his movement, deciding to let Cassiodor go despite his wish to make him stay and answer his questions. “See you,” he replied, even though he didn't believe they would see each other again.
“Yeah, see you,” the smile on Cassiodor's face was sad, Wriothesley really didn't understand what had he done to have the angel's pity. Maybe Cassiodor's soul was just too pure for him to be upset at anyone. He couldn't tell.
After Cassiodor left – not before placing a small bowl of grapes inside Wriothesley's cell through the bars – he started pondering again. The shame he felt for what he had done now pushed behind as questions kept spinning inside his mind.
The child's words about how Heaven failed him, Cassiodor's words about their home not being the same anymore, Boethius being so ready to kill him for doubting their Creator. Nothing made sense anymore and it made him feel distressed.
So many things happened in one day and all of them felt so contradictory to everything he was taught from the first day of his creation. The only thing that made sense right now was his punishment. He felt guilty for his doubts, there had to be something that he was missing, Phanes couldn't be wrong – that's what everyone else around him said all the time. They would never harm them or lie to them. Their creator was the most trustworthy being in the entire universe, if they wouldn't be able to trust them then who should they trust?
Minutes turned into hours as Wriothesley stared at the same wall, contemplating. He wouldn't have noticed that the hour of his punishment was approaching if it wouldn't have been for the darkness creeping in the cell as the sun started to set. He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He just couldn't pinpoint what wasn't right.
His train of thoughts stopped abruptly as he heard the echo of footsteps nearing his cell.
It was time.
He stood up just as two angels with spears in hand came into view. His wing throbbed at the action, making him remember his injury that was very much still there. He completely forgot about it for the past hours but now that he was moving his wings again, the pain came back. It was still a feeling that he was not used to.
The two angels dragged him out of his cell, ignoring him when he hissed in pain because of the rough treatment. Still, despite trying to act nonchalant, Wriothesley could sense their fear. Whether they feared him or what was about to happen, he didn't know.
Heaven was silent around them. No one in sight anymore. The lack of people made the place look even more peaceful than before. He was guided through buildings the color of clouds on a sunny day embedded with gold, bloomed flowers and trees full of fruits. Wriothesley would have felt like he was on a night stroll if it wasn't for the two spears pointing at him as they made their way towards the biggest building in Heaven.
He always felt lucky to have such a beautiful home. The pureness of this domain couldn't be compared to anything else. The Earth was dirty and Hell… well, he never saw Hell but he knew it wouldn't compare to the beauty of Heaven. A place full of evil and corrupted souls couldn't be anything but ugly and disturbing.
Wriothesley remembers his first days of his life, how exciting it felt to learn about Heaven and later about Earth. He consumed every bit of knowledge he could get his hands on. He had always been a curious angel and as years passed his thirst for knowledge just intensified. But, while he had a lot of knowledge of Heaven and Earth, he lacked knowledge of Hell. Not because he wasn't curious, but the Primordial One didn't really allow them to research information about it. That alone raised a few questions in Wriothesley's head before. Was it really so bad to know your enemy?
Soon, Heaven's grand palace came into view and Wriothesley's thoughts quiet down. No matter how many times he saw this building, it never failed to leave him awestruck. It resembled the style of the temples dedicated to Gods that were scrambled around Earth, except it was way more magnificent. Just like the rest of the buildings in Heaven, it had intricate carvings made out of gold that glowed in the light of the moon. It was a shame Wriothesley couldn't admire it now.
He was led inside quickly, the angels escorting him seemingly in a hurry. Were they late? Was that why they were rushing?
The moment they entered the great hall, Wriothesley understood why he hadn't seen any angels on the way here. It appeared that everyone was here, the hall erupting in whispers as they saw him. He felt ashamed to be watched by so many people, people that knew what he did. Suddenly, he felt like a puppy in a cage being expected to do tricks to entertain everyone.
Only one of the Seven Archons was present in the room. He didn't expect any of them to show up, as they were Gods – lesser than their Creator but still Gods – that had their own responsibilities. But their busy schedule didn't stop Focalors from showing up. He wasn't really surprised by her presence either, after all she was known for her love of drama. His case must have caught her attention. However, she didn't say anything as he was brought in the room, her mismatched eyes were just staring at him silently from her smaller throne – which was sat right next to a bigger throne, the one that was reserved for Phanes.
“On your knees,” one of the angels next to him finally spoke, using the back of his spear to hit Wriothesley in the legs. Wriothesley grit his teeth and complied, getting down on his knees.
A ray of sun surrounded the throne in front of him and Wriothesley bowed his head hurriedly. He knew the rules, one mustn't look the Heavenly Principles in the eyes, it was a form of respect. Everyone in the hall followed Wriothesley's action. They couldn't see Phanes but they could feel their presence.
“▇▇▇▇▇▇,” their voice resonated in the big hall, commanding power and control. Wriothesley didn't dare interrupt them, despite the discomfort that name gave him. “My dear, ▇▇▇▇▇▇.”
The endearment didn't bring him any comfort, it only served to raise the hairs on his arm. Unconsciously, he lowered his head even more.
“They told me you defied my orders and killed one of your kins, is that true?” Phanes questioned him, despite knowing the answer already. Wriothesley wasn't sure if it was a trial for them to test if he'd tell the truth.
“Yes, My Lord,” Wriothesley answered truthfully, he wouldn't dare to even try to lie to the Primordial One. It wouldn't do him any good.
There was a pause from Phanes, then they sighed loudly. Wriothesley winced at the sound and his wings dropped. “How disappointing, I had great expectations from you,” Phanes said. “All that potential, wasted,” a ruffle of clothes as Phanes shifted in his throne. “Tell me ▇▇▇▇▇▇, why did you do it? Why did you kill one of your brothers?”
“I…” Wriothesley stared at his own bloody hands, as if they held the answers to Phanes’ question. “I couldn't complete my mission, Boethius tried to do it for me but I stopped him. We fought and in the end I killed him,” the way he phrased it sounded way more brutal than when he was recounting the events to Cassiodor, but he gave up on trying to sugarcoat them. For a brief moment, he wondered if Cassiodor was somewhere in the room. He didn't see him when he came in.
“You never had trouble completing your orders before, what made you hesitate now?” the questions were driving Wriothesley crazy now, he already confirmed that he was guilty. Why was he being asked so many questions?
He had to answer them, Wriothesley was still going to get punished but maybe he could do something for the child if he told them the truth.
“The child was a victim of human traffickers,” Wriothesley started. “He killed his parents to save his siblings, it didn't feel… right to execute him for that. He deserved another chance,” just the image of the child and his words were enough to ignite some anger inside Wriothesley's body. That child and his siblings needed protection from Heaven.
“That child was a murderer,” Phanes stated, displeased by Wriothesley's words. Wriothesley stilled at that. “Do you dare to doubt my judgment and demand of me to give a second chance to whoever you find fit? Whatever her reason was, murder is murder.” Wriothesley grit his teeth together. Why was no one listening to his words? He thought Phanes would understand his reason, see that something was wrong with executing a child for getting rid of two monsters. The child still had time to redeem himself. “That is why I sent you to execute her but you–”
“We failed to protect him!” Wriothesley interrupted, his gaze snapping to Phanes. He realized his mistake too late, lowering his head back down quickly the moment the back of a spear hit his head. “I apologize, My Lord–”
”Enough!” the strength of the command made the floor under him shake. All the angels in the room tensed up. The damage was irreversible. “I was considering being gentle with my punishment for you. You would have been sent to Earth to live as a human.” Wriothesley squeezed his eyes shut, the anger he felt leaving his body and being replaced by shame. “But seeing as you broke three important rules in one day, I will have to revise your punishment.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Wriothesley's breath caught in his throat as he waited for the verdict of his destiny.
“Wriothesley,” the use of his chosen name should have brought him euphoria, but it was said with so much malice and anger that it made him feel worse. “Your actions have disturbed the order of Heaven, therefore I shall find a punishment suitable for your actions,” they glanced at Focalors, asking for her opinion.
“I think a life in Hell would be a suitable punishment for this behavior, My Lord,” Focalors spoke for the first time since the whole thing started, her eyes blinking lazily as if she didn't just suggest a punishment worse than death.
“Ah, a suitable punishment indeed,” a sinister grin spread on Phanes’ face. “Thank you, My Lady.”
Wriothesley froze. Fear gripped at every part of his body as he was grabbed by the same angels that brought him here.
“Now take her out of my face and my domain, throw her in Hell!” the God demanded and just like that Wriothesley was hauled up and dragged away from the great hall.
The other angels that were present in the room followed them whispering between each other as Wriothesley was taken to the gate that connected Heaven and Hell, also known as the purgatory. Souls that were waiting to be cleansed and left inside Heaven were screaming and hitting the barrier that kept them on the other side. The action was futile as the only people that could pass it were angels. Wriothesley stared in horror at the hole he was about to be thrown into. He knew there was no coming back once he was inside.
He felt a distinct pair of eyes on him and he glanced around, hoping to see Cassiodor, just to be met by mismatched eyes again. Focalors was observing him but she kept silent. A small smile played on her lips. She almost looked pleased by what was happening. It made Wriothesley's stomach twist.
He didn't try to fight as he was thrown in the hole. He was unable to use his injured wing as gravity pulled him down. He didn't scream, the souls around him were already doing it for him. They tried to grab him as he fell but they failed to touch him. All he could feel was pure agony as the darkness enveloped him. Even as he was falling to his demise all he could think about was one thing.
Was the child alright?
The first thing Wriothesley felt when his consciousness returned was pain. Not only from his wing but his entire body and mind. Everything hurt.
The next thing he felt was coldness. Which was odd because based on the stories of Hell, he would have expected to feel like his skin was melting. But instead the cold enveloped his body, making him wrap his wings tightly around himself to warm himself up. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious. Was it hours? Days? Or maybe even weeks? He had no sense of time.
His eyes were squeezed shut and his hands were covering his ears. Wriothesley knew exactly where he was but he didn't want to accept it. Couldn't accept it. Maybe if he denied it enough he would wake up in his bed and realize everything was just a bad dream. Except angels couldn't have nightmares and the pain in his body was very much real.
“What should we do with them?” a whisper reached his ears and his body froze. Someone spotted him. This was very bad.
“Eat them?” Wriothesley's heart started beating faster in his chest. Was he really going to be eaten by demons as soon as he stepped foot in Hell?
“Don't joke about that!” the other person replied. Wriothesley lowered his hands from his ears to hear them better. “We don't eat angels!”
The angel didn't know if he should trust their words. Everything could be a ploy to make him let his guard down and then attack him. But if it truly was a joke, he wasn't sure he appreciated their humor.
“Then let's take them to Lord Neuvillette, he will know what to do with them!”
The name didn't ring any bells in Wriothesley's head. But it was expected, his knowledge of Hell was limited after all.
“Alright,” Wriothesley could hear them approaching him and he didn't know what to do. He had nothing to defend himself with. He had to think fast, he had to–
Wriothesley pushed himself up and started flying as fast as he could. Adrenaline pumping in his blood as he got far away from them.
He didn't make it very far. His wing throbbed and he fell down just a few steps away, groaning loudly. Within his panic, he forgot completely about his injury. He felt antagonizing pain from his wing, his actions most likely worsening its condition. Wriothesley sat up and caressed his wing softly, trying to soothe the pain he felt. It didn't help.
“Now, why would you do that?” he heard an angry voice behind him and he belatedly realized that the creatures caught up with him. He turned his head to get a glimpse of them and was left speechless when two small creatures with colorful hair made their way to him. “Hold still!”
He flinched when one of them grabbed his injured wing, but he didn't have the energy to fight them off anymore. He stared at what appeared to be a small girl with pastel blue hair. She looked very human-like compared to her friend with cyan skin and light brown hair. Yet, they both had some kind of horns on their heads. What were these creatures? He had never seen or heard of such species. Their appearance reminded him of bunnies, very odd-looking bunnies.
“This doesn't look good,” the girl with pastel hair finally spoke after analyzing Wriothesley's wing closely. “We need to get this treated,” she frowned, her antennae twitching. “Uhh.. lady..?”
Wriothesley stared for a few more seconds before realizing that the girl was asking for his name. “It's–” he caught himself before he could answer with the name the angels always used on him. “–Wriothesley,” he tried, observing the girl's reaction carefully. “And I'm not… a lady.”
“Okay, monsieur Wriothesley!” the little creature didn't even bat an eye as she corrected herself. It left him dumbfounded. To Wriothesley it was everything. It was the second time in his life when someone called him by his chosen name – well third, but the second time didn't count because it was said to mock him – and all he could feel was pure euphoria. He couldn't stop the giddy feeling that spread through his body. He felt affirmed. “I am Sigewinne and this is my sister, Sedene.”
“Uh… hi,” Wriothesley replied awkwardly as his gaze swept between the two cute little creatures. He was in Hell, right? Yes, he could still hear screams in the background, he was one-hundred percent in Hell. But then why were these sweet girls here? Were they just pretending to be cute to fool him?
“Your wing needs medical treatment,” Sigewinne continued, placing a finger under her chin in thought. “I think I can treat it back in my infirmary in Lord Neuvillette’s palace,” her pink eyes stared at him, her expression akin to a puppy asking for treats. “Please come with me!”
Wriothesley inhaled sharply, his instincts screamed at him not to trust a word they were saying. But what other choice did he have? He can either get killed by them or die here on his own after being discovered by another creature. Both could bring his demise but only one of them could also ensure that he lives. Despite everything that happened, Wriothesley had no desire to give up and die yet.
“And Lord Neuvillette might know a way to help you,” Sedene added. Wriothesley considered that. He wasn't sure if this Neuvillette could send him back, after all he was sent here as a punishment. The Heavenly Principles’ words were final and no one would go against them to take him back to Heaven. But… there was something else that he wanted Neuvillette to help him with – if he could.
“Alright,” Wriothesley nodded and stood up. His legs felt a bit wobbly but he managed not to fall face first on the ground. The girls rushed to his side and each grabbed one of his hands. It made him almost coo because of how adorable they were but he held it back. They may be cute but they were still creatures of Hell. He regained his focus quickly, following the little girls to this Neuvillette.
He felt like he should know this name, but his mind was blank. Regardless, this man was probably very powerful if these girls were sure he could help him.
Just like that, Wriothesley was led towards what might be his undoing or his saving. He hoped for the latter, he desperately wanted to be able to trust someone after all the puzzling moments that he had experienced.
Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't doomed yet.