Golden Blooded

2. Preparations.

He was fed lychees and sugar beets. It surprised him that they knew how to feed angels- that they needed a lot of sugars to stay alive and well. They moved him, in his cage with wheels attached, pulled by a cockatrice.

The cockatrice's tail lashed behind him, the head bobbing. He could only see in front of him- the rest of his cage was covered in dark cloth. The sounds of creatures moving alongside him made him nervous. His claustrophobia continued to bother him as he tried to get in a comfortable position. The kennel was too small- his back was on one side and his foot reached the other. His wings were cramped against his back.

It continued for days- during the dawn, they set up camp and slept, and during the night they moved. Nobody spoke to him, but they did give him food and water when they set up or downed camp.

Eventually, there was the sound of horns. They had arrived somewhere, but he couldn't tell where. There was a lot of clanking, and voices, and shouting. The cockatrice's long reins were held tightly by a tall demon he swore he'd seen before.

The cage was moved. He growled, wiggling around in his confines. Onto a small wagon he went, before the place he could see out of his cage was tied down with the same fabric. He was engulfed in darkness.

Looking down at his golden shackles, he clenched his fists. If he had his magic, he would be able to light this place. If he had his magic, he would be able to escape. These shackles kept his magic at bay.

It didn't take long before the wagon stopped moving.

The fabric was pulled, and quite suddenly he was able to see all around him. Large, embroidered curtains of blue and gold and silver. Curved windows that went from the floor to the ceiling, covered in clear glass. The floor was tilted with gray and white tumbled marble.

A throne was before him. It was ornate, the gold managing to look both like a spiderweb and a floral garden. Big, wooden beams rested behind it.

On the throne sat the superfluous King of Demons, his golden hair waving to his shoulders, a blue and red crown atop his head.

"King Bonnefoy," the Dark General said, kneeling before his king. Alfred's face twisted into a snarl, looking at the king, "I have brought something for you."

"I can see that, General Braginski," the King's face lit up into a smile as he stepped down from his throne. He touched his general's hair gently, and the angel scowled at the affection displayed.

The King stepped up to his cage, and the angel spit at his feet. The demon took no offense, instead reaching into the cage. A spear at the back of his head warned him against biting or grabbing.

His hand was gentle and soft, rubbing his hair before it moved down his cheek.

"Arthur was right," the King said, "the generals are chosen for both their beauty and their skill."

"Arthur?" Alfred whispered, his eyebrows furrowing, "As in... General Arthur?"

"Yes, I know you know him, and that you were close," the King said, "he gave me his life for you."

"No."

His eyes watered, shutting tightly before he bowed his head. General Arthur had disappeared months ago, without a trace. If he'd been captured- then that would explain why his High General stopped talking about him. He'd been disgraced, no longer allowed to be mentioned.

"Yes," the other laughed, "you didn't know? It's a good thing we got a lot of information out of him."

"What information?" he grumbled, his eyes dull.