II : COWARD

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As far as Taehyung knew, he was the only Fallen Angel in existence.

His kind usually didn't last long after the felling; they were too volatile - and valuable. Fallen Hunters spent their lives training to capture them. They learned to mutilate them, how to harvest and sell their feathers, blood, and organs in the despicable Grey Markets. Other Hunter's were just out to assassinate them - usually on behalf of the angels. Angels, hypocrites to their core, created and hated that Fallen existed. They were also terrified of them. As the legends went, the Fallen turned their rage against those that made them. Taehyung could understand the urge to cut down all the angels. He couldn't deny feeling it himself, but it wasn't what drove him.

He could remember the angels ripping apart his soul, tearing his Grace from inside of him. He remembered the searing, blinding pain as his Grace was stolen and his wings charred and blackened, stained with his sins, or so they taunted him. The loss of Grace, the felling... Taehyung understood why Fallen had become violent, base creatures in the past. The felling caused intense and irreversible shock, shattering the mind and spirit until there was no conscience left. Fallen became slaves to their pain and impulses. The legends of how bloodthirsty and uncontrollable Fallen were came from those early moments, when the loss of self is all a Fallen knows. There is no no honour, no shame, no remorse. Only pain, and pain, and pain, and rage.

Taehyung knew no one believed he wasn't a blood-thirsty monster - a beast, as Jungkook had so bluntly put it. For a long time he had been lost in his rage, cultivating a fearsome and bloody reputation like the Fallen of legend. No Hunter that came for him survived, once he had targeted someone, they never survived. The Fallen Angel Taehyung, at first a pitiable and scorned traitor, became the Blood-Winged Fallen. A thing of nightmares.

Looking back, Taehyung knew he'd only survived because his rage was focused on a single point. Someone that smiled too damn much in his memories, all of it out of balance with the amount of pain he'd caused. It had taken decades for the bloodlust haze over his consciousness to fade, and for him to feel again, and by the angels, did Taehyung feel.

Remorse. Guilt. Sorrow. Heartbreak. Pain. Regret. Hatred.

But then there was Jimin.

Jimin, who he'd saved by chance one night he'd been stalking a ring of Skin Traders in the Grey Markets. The Grey Markets were the home to the scum of the Shadow World. Cambion's were not uncommon, but they made for good slaves to those without morals. The lifespan of a cambion depended on the amount of demon-blood they carried, but usually they lived far longer than humans and aged far slower, their senses were heightened, their bodies stronger and more resilient - for those with evil minds, Cambion's were perfect slaves, or worse. Jimin, pretty and strong, was in danger of being lost to the darkest parts of the underworld.

Taehyung hadn't intended to make a friend, but Jimin was the first creature who'd seen him as a monster but looked at him as if he was a damn unicorn. He had no fear or disgust in gaze, only gratitude, and a determination to survive that Taehyung recognised all too well. It had been twenty years since that night, and Jimin had never wavered in the face of his dark moods.

Jimin was, technically, forty-three human years old. He looked twenty, and acted like he was in his twenties most of the time. His youthfulness had helped lighten Taehyung's heart. He was the first person Taehyung opened up to and trusted his secrets with - and not just some of them, all of them. There wasn't a thing that Jimin didn't know about Taehyung, and vice-versa. Jimin was supposed to be the one that soothed his nightmares and calmed his moods of anger and pain, who accepted him without question and promised to protect him even though he didn't need it. He was the one that had helped Taehyung begin to heal, to not look at himself like he was a monster, or evil, or a disgusting and shameful creature that shouldn't exist. Jimin was the one who had first told him his blackened wings were beautiful, and that his crime didn't fit his punishment.

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