Based on @kokoorok's Royalteeth Angel AU, and recently dusted off and refined from its lazily-typed script version thanks to this post. Enjoy!
A white-gloved hand reached down to pick a white daisy, then hesitated as it heard those words. The hand’s owner, an angel named Kinger, looked back to see his lover, another angel named Caine, whom he’d been making a flower crown for after giving him a flower necklace. Caine frowned at the ground, the beautiful flower field they were sitting in swaying gently in the afternoon sun.
The thin black eyebrows above Kinger’s uneven eyes furrowed. “I don’t think anybody in Heaven hates you, my dear.”
“Oh?” Caine’s upper gums arched up in a pained wince as he held up his bandaged arm, then nodded at his bandaged wing as his teeth narrowed around his eyes, his breath hissing through them as he fought back pained tears. “I suppose these were just clumsy accidents, then?”
Kinger’s eyes fell to the ground. Indeed, Caine had been physically punished for…an incident during one of his classes. Kinger himself was in the middle of a lecture, and couldn’t heal him…thus, a couple other students took it upon themselves to bandage his wounds. It wasn’t the first time that’d happened – something similar happened after one of Caine’s flying lessons.
It…it killed him inside, every time he saw Caine in that state. Every time he held him as he sobbed after suffering so horribly…but what could he do? He was a child of God. A tutor. A saint. To go against God’s word would be blasphemous.
Probably the same thing he always did. Comfort him. Hold him close. Remind him that there is someone in Heaven who loves him dearly…flaws and all. Sometimes, though, it didn’t feel like enough. He wanted to make the pain stop – to make them see Caine the way he did. To make them understand that physical punishments were not only detrimental, but completely unnecessary.
For now, though, Kinger’s purple robe dragged across the green grass as he scooched closer and wrapped his wings around Caine gingerly, pulling him into a hug from behind. “That’s not because they hate you…they’re just…” His uneven eyebrows furrowed as he looked off into the distance, trying to find his words. “They…just want you to reach your full potential.”
Caine scoffed, more convinced that even Kinger didn’t believe his own words. He leaned back, resting his head on his chest, though wincing a bit at the pressure this put on his injured wing. “Beating on me will help me reach my full potential? Did they beat you to help you reach yours?”
Kinger’s eyes went half-lidded, and a drop of sweat rolled down the side of his wooden face as he looked away. He didn’t answer, though perhaps he didn’t need to. He…had a history of flawless behavior and obedience, so…yeah. Beatings weren’t necessary.
Caine’s blue and green eyes fell to the ground. He would’ve crossed his arms over his chest, if not for his injury. “Didn’t think so.”
Kinger’s lopsided eyes looked down at him in remorse, then he sighed as he softly ran a white-gloved hand across the top of the younger angel’s head. “I…can’t…condone all of Heaven’s policies when it comes to…behavioral correction,” he admitted slowly, trying to be careful about word choice lest he give him the wrong idea. He reached his other hand down to the daisy again and brushed his fingers against the petals. “I know they think it helps shape angels into proper saints—” he picked the flower “—but I wonder about the harm they’re doing in the long run.” He added the flower to the crown and focused on weaving the stem into it.
Caine’s expression dropped before he slightly rotated himself and curled up against the taller tutor, enjoying the feeling of his wing enshrouding him. “…I don’t mean anyone harm. I don’t know why I’m different…I just…am.”
Kinger’s eyes shined in adoration as he held him close with his wing, pausing his work to caress the side of his face. “I know you don’t, love. I can see your difference…and it’s wonderful.”
His eyes fell back down, his gums furrowed as he tried to ignore the blush creeping up on his molars. “You’re the only one who thinks so.”
Lopsided eyes followed his gaze for a moment before he withdrew his hand to resume his work. "They just don't understand. They see rules and regulations, and they expect you to fall in line like the rest of us. But I see your creativity, your wonder, your curiosity, and your passion... and I see them as gifts to be shared. You're not a chaotic blaze to be snuffed out, but a dancing flame in a fireplace. Warm and comforting. Elegant and beautiful. Properly confined so nobody gets hurt, but given the proper space and care to be itself." He paused as he finished the crown with a satisfied hum, his eyes shining with the smile his face didn't have. "And I believe you have the potential to truly dazzle everyone," he added as he slowly lowered the flower crown onto the younger's head, then brought both hands down to gently cup both sides of his jaw. "All they need to do is give you the chance to shine."
Warmth flooded Caine’s artificial heart from his words, his eyes shining and blush increasing as he felt the crown atop his head. He rested his hands on Kinger’s…though he huffed a soft sigh as he felt his arm twinge in pain, his expression falling. “They won’t. They want me to be like everyone else…they don’t see what you see.”
“Then you’ll just have to make them see.” Kinger gently lifted Caine’s bottom jaw by the chin to lock eyes with him again, his own looking a little forlorn. “Don’t let them snuff you out, love. My life would be…quite sad and lonely if they did…”
Multicolored eyes widened at the older angel’s sudden melancholy and drooping wings. He wrapped his smaller arms around his shoulders in a tight hug and briefly pressed his teeth against the side of his wooden face. “We made a promise, remember? They won’t snuff me out. So long as we both draw breath, we’ll always be together. Right?”
Indeed, Kinger remembered the circumstances under which they’d made that promise, and a slight red tint emerged on his face at the memory. A wonderful night, to be sure, though definitely frowned upon in Heaven. A violation of Heaven’s doctrine he wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. He lifted his disembodied hands up and pressed them against the smaller angel’s back, being mindful of his injured wing as his eyes fell closed.
The two embracing angels seemed to shrink as the scene widened, revealing the vast expanse of the flower field. Hundreds—perhaps thousands—of delicate blooms swayed beneath the warm afternoon sun, creating an image of perfect tranquility.
It was an image that would not last.
As the flashback came to an end and the present returned, the brilliant blue sky gave way to dark, crimson storm clouds. The vision of two embracing angels sitting among vibrant blossoms dissolved into that of a lone, short demon standing amidst a field of dead flowers.
The jagged teeth of his disembodied, denture-like head curled into a hateful sneer above his eyes, his small black horns rising with his jaw, as he stalked between rows of stakes. His victims writhed upon them, their screams and desperate cries for help echoing through the lifeless field as their wings flapped desperately. His sneer settled into a smile as he paced, his pointed black tail flicking in silent satisfaction.
‘Good. Scream louder, angelic dogs. Really grab his attention…’
Unfortunately, their screams didn’t produce the results he wanted. He paused every now and then to watch the sky. No parting of the clouds. No ray of light.
His blood boiled with resentment. Figures. These weren’t his precious students, after all.
Caine was many things, but a patient demon was not one of them. With a snap of his fingers, the first stake burst into flames. The cries of the angel tied to it went from fearfully sharp to agonized wails, and he breathed a deep sigh of contentment.
The flames and embers caught onto the dead foliage and carried over to the next stake. Then the next. Then the next. It wasn’t long before the air was filled with the agonized screams of God’s children, and charred angelic feathers flurried in all directions. The brilliant flames cast an orange light across Caine’s sinister grin, soon engulfing the entire field and surrounding him. He didn’t move though—why would he? He was at home among the heat, the smoke, the death, the destruction.
He closed his jaws to relish the blaze’s warmth, feeling his black wings twitch as a loose ember fluttered onto them. The movement returned it to the air, and he was thankful that being a child of Hell made him at least partially flame-resistant. However, his contentment was interrupted when an unwanted memory resurfaced.
‘You're not a chaotic blaze to be snuffed out, but a dancing flame in a fireplace. Warm and comforting. Elegant and beautiful. Properly confined so nobody gets hurt, but given the proper space and care to be itself.’
The memory of Kinger’s words echoed in his mind, turning his mood and expression sour. He opened his jaws to gaze upon the beautiful sight before him.
That old fool…fireplaces aren’t natural for flames—they’re prisons. Brick boxes meant for containment. Isolation. Control. Used for the benefit of the operator—the manipulator. Flames in those boxes are mere tools used for heat. Fed, poked, and doused. Form-fitted to suit the desires of those deemed greater.
But a chaotic blaze. Large, uproarious, all-consuming, and catastrophically destructive. Pouring out gallons of smoke to choke the life out of those its flames cannot reach. Untamed. Uncontrolled. Unrefined.
His smile returned as he lifted his arms up, strengthening the blaze as it roared loudly and stretched towards the sky.
And as the scene zoomed into one of his eyes, it shrank to a pinprick as he hoped the heat would reach far enough into Heaven to set that traitorous bastard, Kinger, ablaze.
Not that it mattered. It would be but less than a week before word of Caine’s slaughter reached Kinger, and he was forced to intervene as a group of scouts investigating the area went missing. He did what he could to buy them enough time to escape…at the cost of not having the energy to hold his weapon any longer by the time they had.
Caine smiled in glee as he bound the angel in his thorny vines, and Kinger slumped on the ground in pain and exhaustion, blood dripping down the side of his face. A blurry object appeared in front of him…that then sharpened to be Caine’s right gloved hand…holding up a lighter. The demon flicked the lighter on as he held his left arm behind his back and slowly approached his bound victim, the flame’s light dancing across his teeth as they stretched into a psychotic grin.
Kinger’s eyes widened in utter horror as his ex-lover drew closer, his hands and voice trembling uncontrollably. As Caine came to a stop mere inches from him, he wanted to beg him for mercy, for forgiveness, for anything he wanted if it meant preventing this! But his voice wouldn’t work. And he could only watch helplessly as Caine’s psychotic smile widened.
“Are you ready to be dazzled, my love?”
