to heaven and hell (mistakes i have made)

1

Xanthous has just turned 19 when he receives the letter.

The paper is white and it seemingly sparkles in the light. Xanthous eyes Elrik, but the latter shrugs, seemingly as confused as he is.

So it's not from Elvinia then. And it can't be from the Fairy Council; last he checked, they used regular parchment, and it didn't smell faintly of cecilias. . .

Sucking in a breath, he unrolls the parchment. In shimmering sapphire blue ink it reads:

Lords Xanthous and Elrik,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I have noticed that some of your peoples have wreaked havoc on Earth, which, you should know by now, is illegal, as Earth is neutral ground.

It is with a heavy heart that I must declare war on you. You may sign below to officially be in war.

Yours,

Azrael.

Xanthous sputters angrily, his hands clenching and crumpling the parchment. "That's not fair! There isn't anything that says Earth is neutral! And that was an accident that happened 5 years ago!"

"We haven't seen any Demons or Angels until they were released though," Elrik points out. "And maybe they were just waiting until you were old enough to lead a war or something."

Xanthous makes a frustrated noise and balls the letter in his hands. He throws it at the wall as hard as he can.

Elrik gives him a softer look and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Love, it'll be fine. Perhaps we can talk about it with them?"

"It'll make me look like a bad leader," Xanthous grits out through clenched teeth. "I—I have to accept it. There's no other way."

Elrik's lips purse. He says nothing else.

Silently Xanthous walks (stomps more like) to the paper where it lays on the ground. He leans down, picks it up, and unballs it.

It's just as pristine as it had been when it arrived. There's not a crinkle to be seen.

It infuriates him even more.

He storms back to the table and snatches a quill. He scrawls his signature, rather messily, at the bottom of the paper. No matter how hard he presses the top of the quill into the paper, it will not tear.

When he's finished with it he tosses it to his messenger, Crowbeth, one of the four witches that had tried to kill him and his friends nearly a decade earlier.

A thin layer of fire covers her skin, casting her in an orange glow, and her dark hair floats above her head, moving slowly, as though she were underwater. Her eyes—irises, pupils, sclera, everything— are a deep inky black that stare blankly ahead. Her wings hang by her side limply.

He avoids looking directly at her. He always does whenever he interacts with the Sinners.

Because this is their punishment. Be servile and obey his every command.

(He hates it he hates it he hates it he hates it he hates it—)

"Send this to that mother fu—Lord Azrael." Xanthous does not stop the resentment from seeping into his voice. He does not look at Crowbeth, though he knows that she'll give him a low bow.

She bows deeply as he'd suspected, and then, standing as straight as a ruler, vanishes in a column of flames.

Xanthous stays rooted in his position, staring at nothing in particular. Elrik, albeit hesitantly, comes up from behind him, resting his head on his shoulder and wrapping his arms loosely around his waist.

"It'll be fine." His voice is soft and his breath sends tingles down Xanthous's spine. He says nothing for a while. "Um, this might be a bad time—" he removes one of his arms, and Xanthous can hear him fumbling with something before the arm reappears. In it is a small velvet box—

OH—

0-0-0-0-0-0

There are groups of guards scattered across the kingdom, always vigilant, always alert.

Xanthous had sent a small group of scouts to see what Azrael's next move was.

There is no news yet.

He fiddles with the silver band on his ring finger.

It does nothing to soothe his fraying nerves. If anything it makes them worse.

Elrik—his sun, his rock, his star— interlaces their fingers and squeezes gently.

"They'll be back," he says in a comforting voice. "Azrael can't have decided their first move already."

"What if," Xanthous begins, thinking aloud, "we strike first, catch them off guard?"

Elrik gives him a look. Xanthous doesn't need it to know that the idea is stupid.

"The best we can do right now is wait, love." Another squeeze. His hand is cool compared to Xanthous'.

"Sire." One of his servants enters the room. Maximus, was it? He can't quite recall their name.

"Yes?" Xanthous keeps his expression neutral, bracing himself for bad news.

"You've received a gift." And indeed they hold a small golden box, wrapped with a neat baby blue ribbon. "From Lord Azrael."

Xanthous takes it, hesitantly, and mutters his thanks to the servant, who gives a quick bow and swiftly exits the room, just as silent as when they had entered.

Elrik gives the box an apprehensive glance. Xanthous doesn't blame him. There's something. . . Off, about this so-called 'gift'.

Why send a gift after declaring war?

And from what little he knows of Azrael, this is highly unlike them.

Hesitantly, he lifts the lid, just a crack, to peek inside it.

Xanthous lets out a choked scream and the box falls to the ground with a thud.

A head— a head— rolls out of it, its gaze empty and lifeless. The blood rimming the severed head still smells fresh and metallic.

("Go," Xanthous had said. "Go and scout Heaven. Report back any possible move Azrael may make."

"Yes, my liege." The Sinner—some fallen soldier from the Righteous Brotherhood bobs a bow and heads out, off to gather the rest of the crew.

It'd be the last time he'd see them alive.)

"Oh my God." Elrik looks just as sick as Xanthous feels.

"They found them," Xanthous whispers, horrified. He swallows thickly. "This—there's no coming back from this Elrik. Whatever—Whatever chance there was for peace is gone."

"We can still—"

"No." Xanthous winces at the harsh tone his voice holds, but he continues on. "This isn't child's play any more, Elrik. This is war."

Elrik says nothing. He tends to do this a lot as of late.

The weight of the war seems to settle heavily on Xanthous's shoulders as he gazes at the decapitated head.

(It wouldn't be the last severed limb he'd see.)

0-0-0-0-0-0

Yeah...another AU. I can't say I'm sorry bc I'm really not

Anyways I've had this AU since. Idk when I got back into TLOS. You can thank my discord server for convincing me to write this lol

Also HUGE thank you to beyond-the-sea-of-stars for being my beta reader and for helping me with the fic title :))