#I mean I tried to make her a boring support/healer but everyone else immediately said 'I like how you're breaking the 'good cleric'

[theburiedgay]

"Lol, your d+d group made you be the cleric?"

You don't want to roleplay someone who thinks she's her deity's favorite prophet? Who won't admit why she was kicked out of the clergy? Who's a little too happy to see her teammates grievously injured so she can show off her healing powers? She's my best blorba yet

[bigfrozenfan-fanfics]

Chapter 12 - The Escape

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: each Friday at 6:00 pm CEST dst/UTC +2:00 on (link)

Remarks: all my chapters contain carefully selected music tracks. It’s your own decision if you want to use them or not while reading. The purpose is to musically support the respective mood of the plot. If you can please use a browser for reading (not the Tumblr app) due to the text formatting and music.

Honeymaren had made her decision and she did not care if Yelana or her father would punish her. Elsa had to be warned, at all costs. Even if it meant exposing Northuldra's secrets. She set out on a search and ran all over the camp, and around it. But Elsa was nowhere to be found, and neither was her sister. They had to be together somewhere in the woods. This search could take hours, too long maybe and then it would be too late.

Fortunately, Myrtha ran into her and as luck would have it, the healer knew where Elsa was right now. Honeymaren thanked her briefly and hurried off. Myrtha looked after her, shaking her head.

Some time later she already saw the four large monoliths looming before her when Anna and Elsa turned the corner of one and apparently were about to return to the camp. She saw from a distance how Elsa looked up at the big stones and asked Anna something while gesturing. Anna apparently was about to answer her when she saw Honeymaren running towards them in haste. She paused in mid-word and stared at her in surprise.

Elsa followed her gaze and waved. Honeymaren waved back hesitantly, hoping that she herself was not one of the topics of conversation between the two of them. She shook the imagination off of her mind, for Elsa had promised that her nightly conversation would remain between the two of them. Then she reached the two sisters somewhat breathless.

She bowed briefly to Anna and said, “Queen Anna, Elsa, I ... I have something very important to tell you both and I'm afraid you haven't much time left.”

Both looked at her confused and Elsa asked, “Not much time? Time for what? What happened, Honeymaren?”

“You are all in great danger and must leave immediately.”

“Wait, what? Why in danger?” Anna asked and held on to Elsa's arm, her eyes wide open in concern.

Honeymaren briefly thought about how to explain it to them, but then chose the blunt variant. “There's someone after you. He is chasing everyone from Arendelle.” Honeymaren kneaded her fingers in excitement and took turns looking at them with pleading looks. “He's out for revenge and wants to kill both of you!”

Anna's grip on Elsa's arm grew stronger and she gasped for breath in terror. But Elsa ignored Anna's reaction and made a step towards Honeymaren. She took her hands in hers. “Who, Maren, and why?”  

Anna's head started spinning and she didn't know anymore what she should be more worried about now, the unknown threat or that Elsa was so familiar with Honeymaren and even called her 'Maren'. She closed her mouth and lowered her arm, which now hung strangely uselessly in the air when Elsa had released herself from her grip.

“Revenge for what and why such a hurry? We'll be leaving tomorrow morning anyway,” Anna added. “Can the Northuldra not protect us until then?”

Elsa let go of Honeymaren's hands again and walked back and forth a few steps, brooding.

Seconds later, however, Anna realized it and she slapped a hand in front of her mouth, but immediately lowered it again and said, “He's magically gifted, isn't he?” Elsa's head was spinning at those words.

Honeymaren nodded and then shrugged her shoulders, “Yes, most likely ... I mean, we don't know for sure. All we know is that he's very dangerous and may even have Ahtohallan trapped under a magical fog shell.”

“He did what?” it burst out of Anna a little louder.

“Ahto-who-what?” Elsa added uncomprehendingly and Anna had to grin involuntarily for a moment when she remembered the exact same question she once asked her mother.

Then Elsa suddenly remembered that Honeymaren had mentioned that name once before, when they were both sitting on that beach. She thought about it for a moment. She had to find out what it was all about, because it seemed very important.

Honeymaren's gaze changed from one sister to the other. “I am forbidden to say it, but I have already said too much. Then I might as well tell the rest, right?”

“Go ahead,” Anna and Elsa said almost at the same time.

“He is the son of our former fifth spirit, who was brutally killed during the dam construction. His name is Kolgrimr, and he believes that all your grandfather's descendants must die in retribution for this act. So you must leave here as soon as possible ... please!”

Anna and Elsa looked at each other, then Anna nodded and said, “Then let's go back quickly. I'll tell Kristoff to get the wagon ready for departure immediately. Turning to Honeymaren, she quickly added, “In the meantime, can you please let Yelana know that our plans have changed a bit? We want to thank her for her hospitality before we leave.”

Honeymaren pondered briefly if this might suggest to Yelana that she had revealed secret things, but then nodded to Anna. “Yes, of course.”

Then they walked back to camp together. Elsa put her arm around Honeymaren's shoulder and said, “Thank you for warning us and caring so much about us, Maren. She looked at Elsa smiling and just nodded without saying anything back. She had done what was necessary and right in her eyes. Now all that was left to do was to make the rest work and Elsa would be safe.

~~~

Gyda looked thoughtfully at her son, who was chewing the last piece of smoked meat with relish.

“We should perform the ancient ritual. It will bring you luck and give you the necessary strength and speed,” she finally said. “I still have the old sacred drum and most of the ingredients for it here, I only need a few certain things and they have to be fresh.”

Kolgrimr looked up. “Mother, please ...,” he said with a bored tone and with an incredulously gaze.

“No, my son, there is no excuse this time,” Gyda said, “You know ... I usually did these kind of ritual every time your father ventured on a dangerous mission and he always returned safely. Nevertheless ... the last time we spoke and I begged him to perform the ceremony, he refused. He was so upset and in a hurry. He wanted to warn all our people about the true intentions of that bastard liar Runeard and that was the last time I saw him alive. Kolgrimr, I loved your father so dearly ... if he had accepted my offer ... perhaps everything would be so different now. He only had trusted in his shapeshifter abilities and in the nature spirits when he left. I lost your father, I won't lose you too.” He stared at her and then nodded.

“Good. I'll be back soon,” she said, grabbed an empty basket and left the kota.

In the meantime, Kolgrimr lay down on his fur and crossed his arms behind his head. His thoughts turned only to his plan and he tried to imagine the scenery in the camp and plan each of his steps in advance. He swallowed the last shred of meat, closed his eyes and grinned.

~~~

Meanwhile Kristoff was in the camp with Olaf and kept an eye out for Ryder. He also wanted to check on Sven. His old buddy surely wondered if he had forgotten him; he thought.

He finally found Ryder on the large lichen meadows pasture and watched him feeding a carrot to Sven.

“Hey! Where'd you get that carrot, buddy?”

Kristoff came closer, scratched Sven's head and looked at Ryder questioningly. Ryder just shrugged his shoulders. “From your wagon, of course. Sven sniffed at it and then made me take a look. You must have overlooked the carrot, it was hidden under a blanket.”

“It wasn't hidden, Ryder. I was saving it for Sven on the way home. Now I have nothing left for him until Arendelle,” Kristoff accused him gesticulating.

Ryder made a face. “Oh ... I'm really sorry about that. I didn't know it, and Sven just wouldn't let up.”

Kristoff looked reproachfully at Sven and shook his head. “Buddy, buddy ... that's why I'm the only one who gives you your beloved carrots and no one else. Now you'll have to wait till we get back home.” Sven looked at him sadly and Kristoff made him answer in his unmistakable way, reaching under Sven's chin and miming in a deep voice, “Sorry Kristoff, but the smell of the carrot was just irresistible. Why didn't you bring more of it?”

Ryder laughed out loud and slapped Kristoff on the shoulder. “There you go, pal. Sven doesn't feel well taken care of.”

Kristoff grinned and rubbed the tuft of fur on Sven's head. “Sven, buddy, how could I have known in advance that we were gonna be here so long. Next time I'll plan for such eventualities, of course, I promise.”

Ryder's smile slowly disappeared and was replaced by a thoughtful expression. He sighed. Of course, Kristoff didn't miss that and asked, looking at him, “What's wrong? Was there something else going on with Sven?”

“No, no, that's not it. It ... well ... oh, I don't know if and how to tell you this,” Ryder dithered and Kristoff raised an eyebrow while he kept on stroking Sven.

Ryder looked at him seriously. “If you love your fiancée Anna and really care for her and her sister then you all have to get out of here, if possible today.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Kristoff's attention was now completely focused on Ryder, and he looked at him earnestly and with concern.

“I can't tell you any more, but please trust me, it's in all your best interests ... please.”

Kristoff just stared at him. Ryder looked back with a begging face. So they stood there helpless for seconds and Sven's gaze flitted from one to the other. Olaf, who stood between them at the side, did the same and his head bounced from left to right and back again.

“Alright.” Kristoff put his two big hands on Ryder's narrow shoulders and nodded. “I trust you. We'll leave today.”

~~~

Kolgrimr had already prepared everything in his mind and now it was once again time to let his mind wander and to see and feel what was going on in the camp. He sat up and took up a mediation position. Then he took a deep breath in and out and began to prepare himself mentally. He closed his eyes again and the first images and fragments of thoughts of the Northuldra, just doing their work, slowly took shape in his mind. But before he could really focus, the flap on the kota flew open and Gyda came in, wasn't exactly quiet and immediately started digging around in her things. He angrily pulled a face and opened his eyes again.

“You have disturbed me in my meditation! Couldn't this wait a little longer?” She was stooping down and looking for something underneath one of the furs. “Mother?”

She looked up briefly, but at the same moment found what she was looking for and held up a small wooden pestle. “There it is. It really just rolled under the fur.” Kolgrimr looked at her in annoyance. “What? You can do your meditation later. The ritual is important and I need the pestle to pound the herbs and spices.”

Then she gathered everything else together and put a small pot over the tiny fireplace in the middle of the kota. She sat down on her wooden stool, pulled out her sharp knife from the belt sheath and began to cut some of the herbs, all the mushrooms and other ingredients she had collected into small pieces in the pot with practised handles. She added some water from a leather bottle and then began to crush the rest of the herbs and pieces of dried lichen in her mortar.

“You start the fire,” she said without looking up.

Kolgrimr shook his head, but then did as she asked. The bone-dry wood soon began to crackle loudly and the flames licked around the pot. Gyda added two smaller logs and fetched a bundle of plant stems unknown to him, tied together from a hook on the wall of the hut. She held one end into the fire until it began to smoke, pulled it back and blew on the smouldering spots until more smoke developed.

She finally handed the bundle to her son and said, “Here, take this and wave the smoke in your face. Inhale it deeply.”

While Kolgrimr complied with her request, she poured the contents of the mortar into the pot and began stirring with a wooden spoon. An intense and anaesthetic smell spread through the small room. When the contents began to boil, she took the pot from the fire and poured some of the greenish contents into a small bowl, which she handed to Kolgrimr.

“Drink this,” she said, and at the same time took the smoking bundle out of his hand again.

He drank it and, disgusted, grimaced. Gyda nodded contentedly and fetched her old troll drum from the wall. She looked into her son's eyes and when she saw the first signs that it was working on him, she began to beat the drum softly and rhythmically, murmuring words that sounded so different from the Northuldra language. Meanwhile she slowly circled around him, never letting him out of her sight for a moment. At some point he finally began to sway back and forth, his eyes took on a glassy glow and his breathing went by in fits and starts.

Gyda smiled and her chanting became louder and more haunting.

~~~

They met almost simultaneously in the camp and each of them had a serious expression on their faces. They looked at each other and in the first few moments nobody spoke a word. Each of them had the vague feeling that his counterpart already knew about everything. Eyebrows furrowed in surprise and Honeymaren sighed, “Ryder ...” He was probably absent for a good reason. She shook her head, put her hand on Elsa's shoulder for a moment and said, “I'll go and tell Yelana.” Elsa just nodded.

“Well ...,” Kristoff said, “It all seems to be a done deal, but in case you two know more ...,” and he looked alternately from Anna to Elsa and back again, “... then I'd love to know what the reason for all this is.”

Anna nodded and repeated in short words what they had learned from Honeymaren. She asked Kristoff at the end that he should prepare the departure right now.

Kristoff's eyes had become wider and wider as he listened to her and his hands clenched into fists, but then he just nodded and answered, “Already done, the wagon and Sven are ready at the edge of the forest. What now?”

“We'll wait for Yelana, to say goodbye and then we'll leave,” Anna replied quietly, looked over at Elsa and put her hand on her shoulder for a moment. “Home at last.”

It was only a few minutes later, and Yelana, Myrtha, and Honeymaren turned around the next kota and came towards them. After a short greeting, the healer walked up to Elsa and took her aside for a short talk.

“So you decided to leave us earlier,” Yelana noted, leaning casually on her staff with both hands and looking around. “I hope you were happy with everything and nothing upset you?”

“Yes and no ... I mean, everything was fine and there was no cause for trouble,” Anna said, smiling somewhat crookedly at her bumpy wording. “We all just wanted to thank you for your hospitality and for all you've done for Elsa. Thanks also for putting up with us for so long. I hope we haven't disturbed you all too much.”

“It was our pleasure and you could have stayed as long as you wanted,” Yelana lied, waved away and put on her rare smile.

“Thank you very much, but I have urgent royal duties waiting for me, which unfortunately I only remembered this morning,” lied Anna back. “After all, we have been here a little longer than planned.”

“Then I wish you all a safe journey home. Now I have to get back to my duties. For anything else you may need, Honeymaren is at your disposal.” Yelana just bowed to Anna and nodded goodbye. Then she turned around and left.

Myrtha's conversation with Elsa was also over and she said a heartfelt goodbye to each of them. As she left she waved to everyone again.

“She's really very nice,” Elsa said, waving back.

“What did she want from you?” Anna asked curiously.

“She questioned me about my condition and seemed satisfied with everything. She wished me luck.”

Anna nodded. “The Northuldra really have a good healer in her. She has taken good care of you.”

Elsa smiled as she looked after Myrtha. “Yes, that's true.”

They stood like this for a little while longer, until finally Kristoff clapped his hands and said somewhat sarcastically, “Ladies, the wagon is ready. Shall we?”

Anna and Elsa nodded and Olaf ran ahead.

At the edge of the forest Anna and Elsa got into the back of the wagon and Olaf sat before them on the wagon floor. Kristoff sat in front and took the reins in his hand, even though he didn't really need them for Sven.

Honeymaren, who had come along, now stood there a little bit lonely and looked at Elsa one last time. She suddenly became very sad and pulled a face. What if Elsa never got her magic back and therefore stayed in Arendelle for good? It would be goodbye forever; she thought. A tear came out of her eye and ran down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly so that no one would notice it.

“Ready?” Kristoff asked and looked behind him.

“Yes, we can drive off, Kristoff,” Anna said.

“Everybody take care of yourselves, okay?” shouted Honeymaren and raised her hand to say goodbye when Kristoff let the wagon start to roll.

“You too, Maren!” called Elsa back and waved to her.

“So, Sven, take us all home,” Kristoff called to Sven and he joyfully made a leap forward, which carried Olaf with verve between the surprised sisters and made him laugh out loud.

“I love such carriage rides,” Olaf raved and grinned at them.

When they were almost out of sight, Honeymaren was still standing there motionless, her gaze directed into the distance. Then she sank to her knees and started sobbing unrestrainedly.

~~~

---

I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know, except you are already tagged :-)

Credits : Many thanks to HARU (@ xlayers) for the commissioned fantastic fanart! There will be some more from this outstanding artist in the coming chapters! 

Remarks: Don't be confused that Anna still wears her Frozen II outfit in this fanart. HARU haven’t created the outfit with her new jacket yet and i hope we'll see this one day. But Anna’s wearing it in my story.

Tagging: @karma26 @whether-near-to-me-or-far @annaofthenorthernlights @igotelsapregnanthelp

[vikingsarememes]

pairing: Bjorn Ironside x Y/N

Summary: you are the wife of Bjorn Ironside, the cousin of Harald Finehair and the Queen of both cities, you loved your husband more than anything, however, Bjorn is what Bjorn is, you caught your husband cheating and now, you must make a statement.

warnings: cheating, murder.

word count: 1302

You are not just a queen, you are the queen, supported by king Harald Finehair, married to Bjorn Ironside, loved by the people of Norway, admired by warriors, two summers since you’ve been married, two summers and you gave him a true heir, with another on the way, yet, it was never enough for your beloved husband.

He looks at every other girl in the room, he’d flirt whenever you take your eyes off of him, you weren’t ugly, you were beautiful, everyone praised your grace, you weren’t stupid, you were smart, Ivar the boneless himself valued your intelligence, your company was entertaining, your stories were delightful, but Bjorn… he’s always searching for everything but you.

The two of you married of love, or at least, that’s what it was two summers ago, Bjorn proposed, after divorcing his wife Gunnhild, you told him you’d agree if your uncle, Harald, would, and with your marriage, the two kingdoms were reunited once and for all.

Bjorn was much like Ragnar, curious, never wanting to settle down, he’d get a woman, get bored, and change her like she was a toy, but on your wedding day he swore, he swore that he’d never do anything to hurt you, he swore that you’re his one true love, the woman that matches his soul, so much for keeping a vow that he made to you and to the gods.

You’ve been distrusting him for a while now, wanting anything to prove you wrong, the way he was talking to that slave woman, the way he looked at her, the sparkle in his eyes, you were familiar with that, he used to look at you with the same spark, it was nothing strange when you asked one of your most trusted men Nye the Brave, to follow Bjorn around and confirm your suspicions, and it was no surprise when he returned and told you that your beloved husband was fooling around with the slave.

You could endure many things, but cheating wasn’t one of them, you ordered your men to kidnap them both and tie them for you, they did, you put them in a cave, tied with no escape for two days, then you paid them a visit, with your men, you motioned to Nye to remove their blindfold and gags when they did, Bjorn looked at you shocked and confused.

“Y/N, you came to free us?” he asked, still unable to process why his wife was there, with her guards “No dear husband, I’m the one who brought you here, I hope the men fed you well and treated you like… well, like a king” you smiled sinfully, Bjorn’s eyes were filled with confusion and anger, why would his wife do that to him? She loves him! He loves her too! Part of him does.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded, the woman started begging for forgiveness immediately, but one glare from you, made her as quiet as a rat, “I would ask you the same thing, Bjorn, I gave you everything a man could ever want, yet, here we are, I should’ve listened to Harald’s warnings about you, Ironside, or should I say… Iron dick? I gave you love, a family, wealth, and a kingdom, what else do you need to be given you greedy bastard?” you said, calm, yet agony was already in your voice.

“Y/N, I…” you interrupted “you’re nothing Bjorn! Nothing! You are a man who can’t keep a promise! And a man who can’t keep a promise is nothing! My father warned me about men like you, thinking they are smarter than everyone else like everyone owes them the world, you are only here because you climbed on your father’s reputation! A bad king, a reckless Viking, a neglecting father, and an unfaithful husband, tell me where’s the honor in that?” you spat on the floor.

Bjorn looked down ashamed of himself, you glanced at the slave girl who was sobbing, and motioned for your guards to bring her to you, you examined her well, then looked at Bjorn “tell me, what is that has and I don’t?” you asked as you glimpsed at him again, he mumbled something but you couldn’t hear it “the queen asked you a question” Nye said as he kicked Bjorn in the stomach, your husband fell of the ground grumbling.

“Nothing, she has nothing more than you!” you approved “you’re right” Nye handed you a blade and you stabbed the woman in the heart, Bjorn watching you the whole time horrified, “I told you what I would do if I find you with another” you reminded him of your many, many, warnings, the guards picked Bjorn up and forced him to stand then took off his pants, Bjorn tried to fight them but they were stronger, they were bigger.

“Y/N! This is insane, I demand you to stop! I’m your husband! The father of your children! Think about our son, Torvald, what will you tell him?” he said, panic in his eyes, you smirked and held the knife closer to his private member, “Y/N, I love you” he said frantically, you made a big cut near his dick that made him squeal “here is your only warning Bjorn Ironside, if I ever glance at you looking at a woman, I’ll cut it off whole, and this time, you won’t find mercy from me” your men left him on the floor, to suffer and bleed.

The eyes of his scared, dead mistress haunting him everywhere, beautiful, yet she crossed her lines with you, that you cannot allow, “my queen, shall we help him?” one of your men asked, you shook your head no “take me back home at once, husband needs time to think of his action, I’d kiss you goodbye, but I fear it’s hard for me to lean down with our second child in my stomach” you wrapped your arms around your bump and with that, your guards led the way back to Kattegat.

“My queen?” you heard a manly voice, you sighed “yes Nye?” you questioned, “why didn’t you follow with your threat?” he asked confused “because my dearest friend, Bjorn Ironside is still, the father of my child, and the one to be born, he doesn’t deserve mercy, I’m aware, but what’s at stake is more important, our people rely on this alliance, many Norwaygien’s will die in vain if I start a war” he nodded understandingly, you laughed a little “people dying because Ragnarsson couldn’t keep his cock in his pants, so his wife solved the problem” you laughed again.

You were never fond of violence, if things could be solved with no blood, you’d do it, you truly cared about the people, and your sons’ rights to rule both the kingdoms.

Two days later, Bjorn Ironside returned to the main hall, limping, bloodstains all over his pants “Bjorn!” Ubbe said as he rushed to help him, you were on your throne, with your son on your lap, you carried him and went to your husband “call in the healer!” you ordered, leading Bjorn and Ubbe to your bedroom that once belonged to King Ragnar himself.

The healer came and treated his wounds, he had more than the ones you caused him, your husband passed out of pain right after drinking mead and medicine, when he woke up, his brothers were there, so were you, worried about him “how are you feeling husband?” you asked, he looked at you without replying, you were worried about his state, but didn’t forgive him quite yet, he nodded “what happened Bjorn?” Ubbe asked him, he took a deep breath “my own foolishness brother, my own foolishness” his eyes focused on you as if he’s waiting for your next move.

tags: @youbloodymadgenius​ @lol-haha-joke​

[not-a-space-alien]

In Sickness, part 1: Prologue

This is for you, anon.

Title:  In Sickness

Rating:  T

Word count: 16k words

Warnings: Some violence, medical horror, nonconsensual drug use

Summary:  Hastur enlists the help of Hell’s only healer in a bid for revenge on Crowley.  But no one can decide if the archdemon Maltha is bad at her job, or just a little too good…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Series masterpost 

On AO3

Prologue 

Here is something not many people know: Raphael was not the original archangel of healing.  There was one before him, but few remember what her name was when she was an angel.

Her name now is Maltha, and even other archdemons fear her.

A celestial or infernal being can be inflicted with two types of injury.  The first is an injury to their physical body or corporation, which does not affect their “true” or supernatural form at all.  This is caused by anything that would hurt a human—getting hit by a bus, being shot, bumping your head—but can be easily healed with the non-specific supernatural powers that all angels and demons possess.  A certain angel/demon pair heal their hangovers this way quite frequently.  However, not all ills are so trivial even to an immortal.

The second type is spiritual injury.  This can be inflicted with aural weapons, holy water (on demons), hellfire (on angels), or a manner of occult paraphernalia.  These injuries can heal on their own over time, usually, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t cause a decent amount of suffering, or even death if left untreated.  

Angels and demons generally do not like to acknowledge that they can die.  They point out that they are immortal at every opportunity, focusing on the fact that they do not age or get old and infirm like humans do, not dwelling overly long on the fact that they can be killed.  It makes them uncomfortable to think about, so they ignore it.

This is a habit they share with humans.

It is not often that Death has to reap a supernatural being, but it does happen if no one is around to treat a spiritual injury.  And who exactly is there to treat these wounds?  A garrison of angelic healers, created from the very beginning to serve this exact function.  

It may be unclear exactly why there would need to be angelic healers before creation was corrupted. Injury supposedly should not have existed with just Heaven and the angels and the perfectly, not-yet-fully-formed Earth, but injury must have been inevitable, because there they were.

God does not make mistakes.  He knew the creation would be corrupted, He eventually destroyed the Earth with a flood because He regretted making it, but He is perfect and does not make mistakes.

So healing angels existed before they had anything to heal. They were very bored.

There was one particular healing angel who was very easily bored.  He had expressive, golden eyes, and he was particularly clever and inclined to question.  He was restless because he was told that his job was to heal, and then placed into a realm where no one was ever injured.

The healing angels got their first job soon enough, though.  There was a rebellion in Heaven, and we all know how that went.

Surprisingly, despite their dissatisfaction, there was only one healer among the original lot to fall. He was there because his friends had asked him to come along, but they hadn’t really given him an accurate explanation of what they were doing.

“We need a healer tonight. Something’s going on.  We might get hurt.  Will you come with us?  We need your support.  Please? You’re not going to let us go by ourselves, are you?  What if we get hurt and you’re not there?”

The archangel of healing who would eventually be known as Maltha saw him saunter downwards, and she could see him laugh and try to pretend he didn’t care, that he was fed up with Heaven anyway.  But she could see the fear in his eyes, and he screamed as he vanished from sight.

He had an awful time in Hell.  Even those angels who had used to be his friends mistreated him.  Now that they were demons their purpose was to destroy and desecrate.  What place would a gentle healer have among their ranks?

Showing any sign of weakness in Hell was a death sentence.  Any vulnerability was exploited, with every demon climbing over each other and backstabbing to try and reach the top.  To admit injury and subject oneself to another for treatment would require a level of trust demons were no longer allowed to safely show.

The healer, the one with infernal golden eyes who was so clever and inclined to question, got fed up with his new lot in life quickly.  Like many lesser demons, he was forced to hide in Hell where he could to avoid those who were bigger than him.  It was not an enriching existence.

When God’s creation was finally finished, he saw his opportunity to flee, and he escaped up there despite the fact that no one had given him permission to leave.

He liked the Garden. Everything was green and healthy and alive and interesting.  The humans who lived there didn’t realize it, but the reason the plants never wilted and always bloomed big flowers was because there was a snake living among them who had once been a healer, and he was finally able to do his old job without repercussions.

After the Garden he wouldn’t heal anything for a very long time, however.

The assignment about “getting up there to make some trouble” had been an afterthought to cover up the fact that he had disobeyed orders. He argued with them that disobedience should be encouraged, and they argued back that his specific disobedience was counterproductive, and he replied by simply ignoring them after that.  

The truth was, no one was brave enough to go up and retrieve him by force.  He was in a realm where there were angels, it was closer to the Creator who had rejected them, and by then Hell was safe and familiar.  They wanted to save face by pretending he was supposed to be up there, which was fine with him.  He stayed aboveground and eventually slithered right out of his old job, his original lot all but forgotten with the passing of time.

After the disappearance of those whose lot it was to become demons, Heaven was suddenly much emptier. And the archangel who would eventually be called Maltha walked the halls of her healing clinic every day with a broken heart.  She had held so much love for her charges, the ones she was supposed to heal before injury was even invented.  And now that it had been, she was forbidden from helping them, or even loving them.

One day she could take it no more.  The remaining angels looked on in horror as the archangel who would eventually be called Maltha beat her great black wings to rise up and hover level with the Almighty.

“Why have you done this? You told me I am responsible for the health and well-being of my siblings, and the first time they are hurting you throw them out instead of letting me help them.  And you’ve also forsaken one of my healers, who I loved very much.  If everything you make is perfect, why have you treated your children like trash?”

The number of fallen healers then became two.

And so Maltha arrived in Hell, behind everyone else, when the infernal hierarchy had already been established.  They tried to tell her that healers had no place in Hell, though with less courage than they had when telling the lesser healer.  All the love she had held in her heart rotted immediately; she had fallen trying to defend them, and now they were rejecting her. Her love twisted and useless, decayed into molten hatred, she began a rampage.

It wasn’t long before Satan himself took notice, because he became legitimately concerned that Maltha could overthrow him.  Her celestial charge had been the power of healing and life itself, which no one had wielded with more expertise than her.  And now fallen, her power had warped with her love into the power of destruction and death.  Her healing staff had always been a conduit of her powers, and that was still true: healing power still flowed through her hands, but her staff burned with the black flame of death, the corrupted version of the gentle healing light it had once glowed with.  One blow from this fearsome new weapon was enough to kill almost anyone.

She was enraged.  She was unchecked.  And worst of all, she challenged authority in a way that no one down there had dared to since falling.

Eventually, and partially at the urging of the lesser demons who had no hope of protection from this storm, Satan himself confronted Maltha.

“Maltha, why are you killing your siblings?  Why are you killing my followers?”

“I have no place here. They said themselves I can do nothing of use. This is all that remains for me.”

“You obviously can be of use.  You should come be one of my generals and help lead my armies.”

“No, I do not want to do that.”

“What do you want to do, Maltha?  What would make you happy?”

“I want to heal.”

Satan pacified her by granting her wish.  She was given the position of Hell’s official healer, with a facility in the third circle, and Satan even gave her a few demons to help her and take the place of the healers she had to help her in Heaven.

It wasn’t the same. The clinic stood empty because no demon wanted to show weakness or trust Maltha, especially after what she had done. And no matter how much she trained them, the demons who worked for her weren’t good at it because they had never been healers. It wasn’t in their nature.

Eventually, she returned to Satan with an addendum to her demand.  “I want my healer.  One of my healers fell during the rebellion before me.  I want him.”

“I don’t know where he is, Maltha.  Hell has no other healers.  And no one remembers what another demon did before the fall. We have all changed our names and our appearances.  If you want him, you will have to find him yourself.”

No one would help her find him.  She had no way to even recognize him, because all the angels had become strange and distorted and unrecognizable after they’d fallen, and no one would tell her what their angelic name had been.  She wept because she missed him, and she missed her siblings in Heaven, but eventually she had to harden her heart to survive.

So she gave up looking for him and started her work without him.

When Satan had given Maltha permission to be Hell’s healer, he figured, at worst, that she would sit in the clinic alone because no one would show up.  Eventually, his blanket permission to heal backfired tremendously.  

More demons were now going up to the Earth, either because their fear of the place had faded upon seeing the serpent’s success, or because the demons above them were now commanding them to.  And they were getting into fights with the angels they had been so afraid of.  And they would invariably hide away somewhere on Earth to let their wounds heal slowly on their own, because they would be fools to seek Maltha out.

So she decided to stop waiting for demons to come to her.  She became more proactive.

Her very first patient was terribly surprised to be forcibly removed from Earth and taken downstairs to recover, despite protesting against it.  They did not have a good experience in the clinic and fled as soon as Maltha released them.  Everyone laughed at the first victim, but it soon became clear that this was to be a pattern of behaviour.  As the word spread of what Maltha was doing, demons began to fear being injured not for the pain, but because of the threat of getting a visit from Maltha.

And she would visit.

“I’m going to heal you. Stop struggling.  Lie still.  Stop screaming.  This is for your own good.”