Golden Blooded

6. Sent Off.

It was the night. He left at morning time.

Alfred sat beside the window of his room, looking up at the stars. His wings ached for movement- for flight, but that couldn't be answered. They were still chained. Not tightly, of course. He could still extend them, almost to their full length. The real problem was that the chains were too heavy for long distance flight. Not unless he figured out how to get it off, which he'd already tried, and failed, to do.

The door opened, slowly. Someone who was very good at being very quiet walked in. He didn't even turn around.

"Hello, Arthur," he said, resting his cheek on the window.

"Hello, Alfred," the other responded, before walking over and sitting opposite from him, "your leaving tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"You know the plan, correct?"

"Correct."

"And relay that back to me," he said. Alfred looked over, meeting the firm, green eyes of his fellow general.

"Behave well. Get new cuffs and get the wing locks taken off. Find my sword, which should be part of my stuff, steal information, and take off to the Northwest until I get to the mountains, and then turn Southwest. Heaven Proper will be in my path. Tell them everything I know."

"Good," Arthur nodded, approvingly. Alfred smiled like a young child, falling into that little bit of affection from the elder angel, before seeing his face stiffen.

"You only have one chance," he said, looking over, "and remember my warnings. Always be loyal to Heaven first. Don't give demons the time of day. Hell will fall to our might, but only if we are loyal to Heaven."

"Yes," he replied, so quickly it might have been a programmed reaction, "I know. I will be loyal to my last breath."

"Good," he sighed, "considering your traitorous bloodline, I worry for you."

Alfred went stiff, his wings snapping against his back.

"There is no need. I will never do what my mother did."

"Good," that seemed to be all he could say through the night, "take care. One day I'll see you again, at your full strength and burning this castle to the ground."

"I hope it so," he smiled brightly.

Arthur stood up, walking out of the room as quietly as he came in. The room seemed warmer after he left, but maybe that was just him. He rubbed his arms, standing up. He looked over to Emma's door. She would already be asleep by now- he knew she stuck to a very tight sleep schedule. Maybe he should copy her.

Eventually, he decided, collapsing on the bed. He curled in on himself, not ready to accept the facts. If he went back to Heaven, at all, ever, his head would be split from his body before he could even blink. His patriotism hid that from him, made it shroud in darkness. Only the evil voice in his mind could whisper such a thing, and that was what had made him deem it evil.

He dreamt, that night. It had been a long time since he'd dreamt. Almost four or five years. Dreaming was a child's thing, and most times he was too tired to dream.

He saw himself in the arena, where he was meant to prove his might as a General before a crowd of great, non-General, War Heros. He remembered he had considered himself a General War Hero, like the great Michael, even though the title had never been given to him. Wouldn't ever have been given to him- he threw the evil voice out of his mind, the serpent losing it's grasp on his soul for the moment.

They were bringing out a Dark General for him to fight. Dark General Batukhan Ulan, Dark General Braginski's predecessor, to be exact. He remembered the Mongol being tall. He also remembered the pity in the old General's eyes as he was pitted against a child, only twelve.