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hollowfaith · 13 days ago

Note

26. the one where you have the date your soulmate will die on your wrist.

soulmate AU prompts.

The numbers on his wrist are always flickering.

"It's a natural side effect of angels," his mother had said. "Those who are immortal will never see their time stop moving."

She's delighted, of course—soulmates are rare even in the celestial realm, and to be tied together by fate alleviates some of the loneliness that eternity brings.

"I've asked your father to let me search through all the angels," she informs him, "When we find your partner, we'll bring them home to meet you."

Privately, Aurelius thinks it's all a waste of time. What greater honor could there be than to serve God? The brilliance of Heaven, the glory of Light, and the endless peace that came from ensuring He reigned unchecked—that would always be more meaningful than pledging himself to another.

But he is a dutiful angel and an obedient son, so he says nothing of it. God Himself seems to take his side, because although his mother searches and sweeps, she never finds the soul destined to match him.

At least, not before her death.

In the aftermath of their latest war against the demons, he cradles her head against his shoulder, and she reaches out bloody fingers to cup his face one last time.

"You'll need to find them yourself now," she frets. "The happiness I never found...I hope it can be yours."

But of course, his mother had never loved his father. Or more accurately, she had tried, but the current divinus imperator had always valued her strength instead. They weren't soulmates, only paired together after the divinus's previous partner died. Even now as the angels fought, he stayed safely in Heaven to oversee their advance, never having been blessed with enough gifts to take to the battlefield himself.

"You will need to accommodate for her absence," he tells Aurelius when the latter returns to report. "I've already told her angels to follow your command from now on."

The battle was won, but the war is still ongoing. His father's voice seems to turn the room still, and the motionless body of his mother in his arms exacerbates the sensation. Aurelius looks down mutely, wondering what she'd say if she could speak.

She never used to stand by when her father ordered him around.

"This is an unprecedented threat towards Heaven," his father continues, "All the celestial realms have joined together against the insult. We will put together a delegation after this round of skirmishes is over—"

The familiar voice drones on as Aurelius adjusts his grip. It is only a husk he's holding now—his mother's soul has long ascended to join God—but her weight is tangible, as is the serene expression on her face.

"What are you going to do with my mother?" he suddenly asks.

His father stops speaking, looking faintly annoyed. "What?"

"Her body," he continues. "Can you not—"

"Leave your mother with me," his father cuts him off. "I'll take care of her."

Aurelius doesn't answer. "Take care of" in his father's words inevitably means to consume, like he's done so many times with so many others to absorb their powers. He finds it mockery that the man who's used his mother all throughout her life still persists after her death, like a dog gnawing its favorite bone to pieces.

"I don't think you need to do that," Aurelius replies. "Mother was always closer to me. I gather she'd prefer to stay at my side even now."

He turns to leave, but finds his way blocked by his father in an instant. "Aurelius," the divinus warns, and reaches out for the body.

A burst of flames sends his fingers withdrawing in a hurry while his son calmly stares him down.

"You misunderstand, father," he says. "I don't want to claim mother. I just want to give her body the rest it deserves."

"Where else would she rest but with me?" his father tries a smile, but the curves are all wrong from being out of practice. "She must be heavy. Let down your burden—"

"—and let God bear weight for all your sins?" Aurelius finished. "But that's the quote of a heretic, father."

His father stares at him and suddenly, Aurelius realizes how novel it is to act his own way for once. He looks at the woman in his arms one last time—before setting her on fire.

Angels are divine, but without an immortal soul in their bodies, flesh is ultimately flesh. He isn't fool enough to attach feelings of sentimentality to this shell—no, not when the stricken reaction of his father is more lively at the moment. Even as the divinus rages, there is little he can do against Aurelius because he is simply too weak.

Holy flames are potent and pure. His mother is consumed within minutes, leaving the flickering remnants lapping at nothing and his father's furious tirades ringing in his ears. Aurelius raises a hand to inspect his wrist—the one with the numbers, still flickering erratically.

Time never stops moving, his mother's voice echoes. With a laugh, Aurelius flies away before his father recovers enough from the shock to retaliate.

—

There have always been multiple instances of "Heaven" in the universe. People have different faiths, and what they believe in ultimately guides where they go after death. Aurelius knows this, but he's never been to the holy realms of other lands. The "delegation" his father mentions sends him far into the East, where he's welcomed by a warrior in intricate armor who looks equally at a loss at the sight of his flawless three-piece suit.

He ends up focusing on something more familiar instead—Aurelius's four golden wings.

"I am Erlang Shen," the immortal introduces himself first. "Shortly after this, I'll be taking you into the heavenly court. The Jade Emperor and Queen Mother of the West have prepared a banquet to welcome your delegation. Due to the close seating, I am wondering, in the case of wings..."

Guessing his meaning, Aurelius dismisses them with a thought and has his other angels do the same. "Is that better?"

Erlang Shen gives him a quick bow with hands cupped in front of his chest. "Your consideration is appreciated."

Aurelius nods back, but privately wonders what he's supposed to eat. Food wasn't a concern for angels back in his world, but it seems the gods here relished in their feasting. He at first looks forward to the wine, but finds his interest peaking when Erlang Shen starts describing certain fruit.

"The peaches of immortality ripen every 3,000, 6,000 and 9,000 years. Coincidentally, you've come in time to partake of the most potent pickings, said to bestow eternal life and a rank equal to the Sun and Moon."

As Aurelius raises his brows, he remarks, "I suppose they're coveted for their gifts."

Erlang Shen laughs. "Indeed, but they are freely shared among the gods. Besides that, we've recently employed a very capable guard—"

"Sir! Sir, it's a disaster!"

Erlang Shen holds out an arm to stop Aurelius's progress as a heavenly soldier dashes their way, nearly out of breath. "Collect yourself before our guest," the immortal scolds. "Speak clearly."

The soldier only darts a glance at Aurelius before gasping back, "That monkey's gone mad and devoured all the peaches!"

To the angel, the change is immediate: every single hair on Erlang Shen's body tenses, and he politely but tersely excuses himself while asking Aurelius to wait in place. The final sentence from the soldier is both flabbergasting and funny: Did Heaven also play host to divine monkeys? Don't tell him this was a pet of the Jade Emperor gone rogue on a snack break.

—

Long story short, there is no banquet that day or in any of the weeks that follow. In the midst of the chaos, Aurelius and his angels bear witness to a living, breathing, cursing monkey with a cudgel that beats everyone—even Erlang Shen himself—back before the Buddha intervenes and traps him in the palm of his hand. Aurelius keeps his eyes and ears open the entire time: strength is what they need to defeat the demonic threat, and while Erlang Shen seemed a promising candidate at first sight, he lacks the ferocity and creativity of his furry opponent. Inviting the Buddha was out of the question—he was an existence above Aurelius's own and too deeply involved with matters of the Western Paradise.

So then.

Looking at the monkey now crushed under a hand turned mountain destined to serve as his gaol for the next 500 years, Aurelius approaches the Jade Emperor to act as his intermediary.

And makes a bold request.

—

"Five years." Sitting on his own golden cloud as they fly across the skies, the (temporarily) freed Sun Wukong levels Aurelius with a stare before he snorts. "You couldn't get me any more than that?"

"If it takes too long to eradicate the demonic threat, I'd be seen as incompetent," Aurelius replies. "My father isn't so patient."

“Your daddy can’t take of it himself? Isn’t he ruler of your Heaven or someth—hISS.” The monkey pauses mid-sentence to scowl at his wrists, where two gold bracelets are fading from their recent glow. “What did I say wrong?!”

“Our Heaven has no emperor, much less any ruler like yours,” Aurelius says while adjusting a ring on his finger. The Goddess of Mercy had granted him and Sun Wukong both with these artifacts so the angel could keep him in check, because gods forbid he finished causing havoc in one Heaven only to wreck another. Twisting the ring on his finger simultaneously tightened the bands on the monkey’s arms, causing him a jolt of pain. “There is only one God above all, with us angels as his divine army. To imply otherwise is blasphemy and must be rebuked.”

“So when were you planning to tell me all this?” His companion is less than enthused, rubbing his wrists ruefully. “I fight with these hands. They couldn’t have placed these restriction bands somewhere else?”

“Your hands caused the most trouble, so it makes sense to keep them in check,” Aurelius points out. “I’ll give you one of the holy books after we arrive so you can familiarize yourself with our faith.”

“Wait, what? I didn’t say I wanted to convert—hey!” Sun Wukong catches a stray golden feather as Aurelius flaps his wings and puts on a burst of speed. He rolls his eyes—if it wasn’t for not knowing where to go, a single somersault would’ve had him leaving this angel in the dust ages ago.

"Brat can't even respect his seniors," he complains to the other angels following behind him. They look at him blankly, then flap their wings to catch up to their leader ahead.

Wukong has to bat away their stray feathers next and scoffs—were these angels cats? They kept shedding on him!

Still, flying slow-mo's better than being stuck beneath a mountain anyday.

His nimbus puts on a burst of speed before joining the rest of the flock.

—

"You're late."

"I was observing the candidates."

"For a month?"

Inside a eerily reminiscent open hall wreathed by clouds and perfect blue skies (why did Heaven hire the same interior decorators everywhere?), Wukong surreptitiously stretches his limbs while eyeing father and son speaking to each other a little further ahead.

"There were complications." Aurelius folded his arms. Namely, Heaven had tried to cook—pardon, refine—Wukong in a furnace, which took 49 days of constantly burning fires that just ended up making his eyes permanently glowy by the end of the all. "Moreover, time passes differently between the realms. You were aware of this when you let me go, father. The fact that the realm still stands in my absence is testament to the existing strength of our holy host."

"And yet, when I ordered you to find an army to supplement our ranks, you bring back a single soul. A monkey," the divinus's voice is harsh on a good day, but it sounds particularly grating now. It hits the perfect register to irritate Wukong's ears, and he gets distracted in the middle of waiting around.

Crack. He pauses to look down, realizing his errant tail's broken one of the floor tiles. Oops.

The man they call divinus looks over, but Aurelius simply moves to stand in front of him, blocking Wukong from sight. "I assure you, his strength is enough to rival all of Heaven's armies. I personally witnessed him singlehandedly taking down their forces—"

"He fought against Heaven?" the other's voice is rising again. "Of all the things you bring home, you chose a heretic?"

One of Aurelius' eyebrow arches. Even from Wukong's angle, it's easy to catch the twitch of a vein in his forehead. Meanwhile, he surreptitiously pulls out a hair and drops it over the cracks, where it transforms back into a tile as good as new.

"You asked for fighters, not followers. I bring you one with the strength of 100,000 angels, and yet you censure the very thing you seek."

100,000? I dunno, I think I could beat 500,000 if I tried, Wukong muses. He'd just risk balding slightly afterwards if it meant bringing in clones, that's all. Come to think of it, how many demons did he want me to beat up anyways?

The Goddess of Mercy had framed this as a journey to gain merit and atone for his misdeeds; honestly, Sun Wukong wanted to point out that releasing him for beating people up to beat more people up seemed to be missing the point, but whatever.

Footsteps catch his attention next; he looks up to see Aurelius striding quickly his way, hand reaching out to take his own.

"What," Wukong begins, but gets no further than that when the angel suddenly goes airborne. He has just enough time to glance back and see Mr. Divinus Imperator's smoldering expression before his own nimbus flies in to cushion him from below. Aurelius lets go then, and Wukong sees a glimpse of something funny on his wrist, like a row of squiggly lines, as he falls back onto his cloud. It's incomprehensible to him, so he assumes it's just more angel mumbo jumbo stuff.

"Your old man looks furious," he remarks once they're out of sight from the hall.

"That's on him for losing his temper," Aurelius remarks.

The monkey snickers, earning a look from the blond.

"Is that funny?"

"Nah, I'm not laughing at you," the Monkey King clarifies. "Just thought your comeback wasn't bad. I thought you were the goody-two-shoes type?"

Aurelius' gaze on him turns dubious. "I am an angel," he says by way of the obvious. "A paragon of goodness and light."

"A paragon-two-shoes who pisses off his dad for kicks?"

He gets a wrinkled nose for his language, but his wrists don't throb as a consequence this time.

"He has neither skill nor ability to match his position, and for that he lacks my respect," Aurelius states simply.

Wukong gives a low whistle at the admission. "Then why don't you just take his place?" He's only half-joking, but Aurelius considers it seriously before shaking his head.

"It would upset the order of things."

Now it was the monkey's turn to raise a brow. "Aren't you doing that anyways?"

Aurelius' lips thin into a line. "I have no interest in disturbing the status quo, much less recreating your little masterpiece in my home."

"Hey, I had a bone to pick with the entire celestial court. You just hate your dad."

"Whether or not I hate him, he is permitted to exist," Aurelius retorts, then stops. "We're here."

Wukong follows his gaze to look: they've stopped over a field of flowers bordering a little creek. A patch of trees that barely qualifies as a copse is on their right, and straddling the border between forest and meadow is a quaint little wooden cottage.

"Is that—" Wukong starts, and stops. "I mean—am I living here?"

Aurelius nods and crosses his arms again, refusing to make eye contact. "Since you're a temporary guest, we didn't make any permanent changes to Heaven. I've had them create an approximation of your home."

"My home—what, you mean Flower Fruit Mountain?" Don't tell me those rolling hills are supposed to be mountains. Annnnnd there's flowers, sure, but where's the fruit?

"The woods are filled with apple trees," Aurelius says before Wukong asks. "Not the immortal kind. Not the knowledge kind, either—God keeps those in His own orchards now."

"Ooookay." Wukong doesn't know the story behind those and decides he won't ask. "Peaches are more my thing but yeah, I get it. Guest, guesthouse, I appreciate the thought of a roof and all, so thanks for that."

"Did your old house not have roofs?" Aurelius wonders out loud.

"Technically, it was a cave. Hidden behind a waterfall curtain and everything." Aurelius stares at him until Wukong waves a hand. "I don't need one here, all right? It's not really home anyways, so don't worry about it."

The angel purses his lips and says nothing. Wukong wonders if he's off on one of his sudden moody spells again, but the next second Aurelius turns away instead, only tossing back, "Get some rest. I'll regroup with you tomorrow."

Then he flies off, leaving him alone.

Sun Wukong looks at his new "home" for the night before opening the door to peek inside. Surprisingly, it's bigger on the inside, but the design choices are foreign to him—the Heaven here liked its straight lines and sharp angles much more than the sweeping roofs and curved furniture of the Middle Kingdom. The floor beneath his feet is wood—which he appreciates, since stone would be much colder—but there are tabletops made out of marble and chairs with metal legs.

Sharp and precise are the words that comes to mind. He wonders whether Aurelius was in charge of furnishing the place...

Anyways, it's late. After sorting out the space more or less to his tastes, Wukong rolls onto the bed and pillows his head with his arms to stare at the ceiling. Interestingly enough, there's a skylight in the roof that gives him a convenient view of the stars, saving him the hassle of peering through architecture with his newly refined eyes.

Heaven here is as quiet as Heaven anywhere. He closes his ears and listens more closely—perhaps the notable difference is the frequency of rustling—wings, mostly, from the angels on patrol. It's a soft shurring sound, all but drowned out by the babbling stream closeby. The smells are different too, with the flowers outside his hut sweet but unfamiliar, and of course the tangible absence of peaches anywhere in sight. If only he saved one of the pits to plant later...

He pointedly doesn't think too much about the rest: screams, fire, fights, blood. Night is a time for quiet contemplation, and for once Heaven cooperates with his thoughts to lull him to sleep.

—

The next morning, a half-awake Sun Wukong opens his door, steps outside, and gets a face full of water for his efforts. He blinks and looks up: there's a curtain of water raining down from a lone cloud in the sky...positioned right in front of his entrance.

"You don't seem like a morning person."

Wiping droplets off his fur, Wukong sidesteps the makeshift rain curtain to squint at Aurelius half-hovering in the air above him. He's still wearing his three-piece suit, but maybe a new set this time? The tie's a different color. Either way, it's pretty copy and paste.

"Is this how you wake up guests?" he asks instead.

Aurelius just nods at the raining cloud. "It's a waterfall," he explains. "Like the one from home."

It takes Wukong a second to get it, and then he's staring at the "waterfall" himself with a critical eye. "...huh. Why don't you add the entire cave with it too."

"That would block the windows, and then you'd have no light," Aurelius answers seriously. He's also studying the screen of water, seemingly unsatisfied. "It's a bit thin. I'll add a few more clouds."

With a wave of his fingers two more float down from the side, but Wukong's quick to somersault on his roof and wave Aurelius down. "Hey hey, buddy. It's fine. It's convenient for morning showers sure, but I don't actually need a curtain of water in front of my door. Makes some things more troublesome than they should, you know?"

Aurelius stares at him again, then dismisses all the clouds altogether, leaving only a wet patch of grass in the area in front of Wukong's house.

"Today we fight the legions in the south," he says briskly, "They've been causing the most trouble recently, so father wants them quelled first."

"Right, so are we getting breakfast on the way?"

"You still need to eat?" Aurelius blinked at him. "When you spent 49 days in that furnace—"

"Not by choice," Wukong snaps back.

Aurelius absorbs that knowledge. Then he reaches out a hand towards one of the trees until it glows. Seconds later, a healthy crop of bright yellow apples ripen to full maturity before flying off the branches and floating in the air in front of the monkey.

Wukong stares at them dubiously. He's made his own food before, of course—out of hair—but what were these made of? Light?

"Am I going to get full from these?" he asks.

A familiar crease appears between Aurelius' brows again. "These apples of Heaven are said to cure all ills. These may not be your favorite peaches, but they're substantial enough."

"Huh. All right." Wukong grabs one and takes an experimental bite. The crunch is definitely different, and the flavor both tart and sweet—but it's good fruit, and probably the best apples he'll ever eat in this lifetime. In short, he can't complain.

"Do you have anything to drin—"

A ball of water emerges from the stream and floats in front of his face.

"Were you this much of a hassle back in your Heaven?" Aurelius demands.

"It's not 'my' Heaven," Wukong corrects, "and even if I was, it wasn't like they could do anything about it. Have an apple." His tail grabs a fruit out of the floating batch in the air and tosses it at the angel, who halts its trajectory mid-air before it hits him in the chest.

Well that's no fun, Wukong muses, but feels some satisfaction when Aurelius sighs and joins him with a crisp new crunch.

—

Actually subjugating demons isn't very hard. They crawled out of Hell, you beat them back, a portion respawned, repeat. By the time lunchtime's come around and Wukong's run his cudgel through successive smackdowns, he's even starting to get a little bored.

"Is this how you handle demons in your world?" he asks off-handedly.

"How else would you do it?" Aurelius asks.

"Well, in my place they just zap 'em once and that's it. Or convert them into disciples—you know, as mounts and stuff."

Aurelius seems repelled by the thought. "God created beasts of burden to serve Man. We angels have wings to give us flight—"

"—I know, I know, and they're probably faster too," Wukong nods along before biting down on his orange (isn't it neat, a fruit named after a color?). This one was even tarter than the apple, but much juicier. It was just a little annoying having to peel the skin off before you could eat the thing. "But have you ever considered how vulnerable it is to wear those things around? What if some demon grabbed one and ripped it straight outta your back?"

He can sort of relate, having a tail that practically yells, Cut me off! Fortunately, it's as tough as the rest of his body.

"Must you be so negative?" Aurelius retorts. He's inclining on a tree limb this time, waiting as he watches Wukong dine.

"Considering I've got 495 years of confinement waiting for me after this, then yeah—I think I've got enough reason to complain a bit." Spitting the orange pips into his palm, Wukong starts flicking them at the same spot on a tree hundreds of feet away just for fun. "Any chance of renewing my contract on this gig?"

"With your skills, I doubt I'll even need the full five years," Aurelius replies.

"We decimated most of the southern forces today. If we can head into their base and find the leader, then I'll be able to seal this entrance to their realm."

"So accepting my lot's the way to go." Wukong grimaces, but doesn't complain. Buddha was an existence so incomprehensively vast that he wouldn't be surprised if the god could seal him beneath Five Fingers Mountain even here, if he wanted.

"You're tenacious, so I'm sure you'll do fine," Aurelius remarks.

"Are you trying to cheer me up? How old are you, anyways?"

"I'm only stating an observation," Aurelius pauses, before adding, "102."

"Hah! Still a kid after all," Wukong slaps his thighs, bemused. "So what'd you do for the ol' 100th?"

"Pardon?"

"Your birthday. It gets old after a while, but celebrating the first 100 are still all right. What's the custom here?" Wukong begins to talk to himself. "Can't be longevity noodles if you hardly eat. God's blessing? Chanting prayers extra loudly?"

"My mother sought me out," Aurelius recalled, "...and sang me a song."

"Sounds a lot nicer than your dad," Wukong observes. "Do I get to meet her too?"

"She died before I came to find you."

Wukong pauses with his mouth open, orange slice inches from his lips. "...Sorry for your loss."

"You didn't kill her, so there's no need to apologize." Aurelius stretches out a hand, and his trusty spear Ithuriel materializes in his fingers instead. "When you're done with that orange, we'll finish the rest of the demons off."

Wukong looks at the fruit in his hand, then at the untouched pile behind him, and makes a mental note that Aurelius maybe liked to hold grudges a tiny bit.

—

The southern demons are vanquished, then the east and the west. As they trudge through the icy mountains of the north, Wukong can't help asking between rubbing his nose, "Why are there so many demons in the first place?"

Ahead of him, Aurelius strides through snow without a look back. "God issues trials to test his flock."

"You'd think those would be for the humans," Wukong scoffed. "But you angels are the one cleaning up the mess. Ow—hey!" He rubs his twinging wrists. "That's not blasphemy, it's just stating the facts!"

In spite of himself, he has started reading Aurelius's promised holy book—mostly because the armbands don't let him wander off too far from the angel and there isn't much to do while they rest between bouts of demon-killing.

He quotes from it now: "Thou shalt not waste God's blessings in vain."

Aurelius is less than impressed. "Your bodhisattva put them on you. It has nothing to do with my God."

"Hey, she's not 'my' anything, you know—"

"Godless and a heretic, how pitiful you are."

Wukong's got some nice choice of retorts to throw back, but the angel turns before he speaks to hold out a hand. He stares at it suspiciously and asks, "What?"

"A storm's rolling in. Take my hand so we don't get separated."

"You're so bright, I'd have no problem picking you out in a snowstorm," Wukong points out. Divinity were walking light beacons—sometimes it even hurt his eyes a little, to see so many shining souls wandering around Heaven.

"It'll keep you warm."

"I'm not afraid of the cold."

In the end, Aurelius simply grabs the hand himself and traps it between his fingers. "You've been dragging your feet since I've said this was the last place we need to go," he says. "Any more delays and we'll lose the best chance to attack."

Wukong doesn't deny that, but neither does he acknowledge it openly. "Hey, who was the one who decided to sneak in on foot?"

"It's not sneaking in, it's approaching them horizontally." Aurelius squints at the clouds above them, already scattering snowflakes to swirl around their heads. "We'd stand out too much if we came in from above."

"Not if we go fast enough," Wukong pointed out. "You know, I could transform into a fly and slip in first."

The grip on his hand tightens. "Just stay close. The faster this is finished, the more time you have to yourself before you go back."

"I thought angels weren't supposed to lie," Wukong scoffs and stands his ground. "That agreement was pretty clear from what I heard: we clear the last demons and I go back, even if it's before five years. End of story."

"You really don't want to return," Aurelius states.

"Who would?" Wukong laughs. "Look, I'm not trying to sabotage whatever it is you've gotta do. I just don't wanna do what I have to so soon, get it?"

He tries to shake himself loose, but Aurelius pulls him closer with a petulant tone. "I didn't lie."

"What?" Wukong looks up doubtfully. "You don't look like the type who talks in riddles. 'Last demon stronghold' means the last of the demons are here, aren't they? Don't tell me you're gonna let a stray one run off just so I can justify a longer breather before getting imprisoned again."

"Even after killing every single demon today, you still have plenty of reasons to stay the full five years," Aurelius says in exasperation. "Perhaps I didn't explain it clearly enough. The Angel-Demon War has gone on for as long as we both existed, and will keep going until the end of time or Judgment Day—whichever comes first."

Sun Wukong stops trying to wrestle with Aurelius' fingers to hear him out.

"We have wars every 100 years, when the Gates of Hell open and spawn their kind into the mortal realm," Aurelius continues. "You've seen it yourself. Killing them isn't permanent. Even within a fight, they can revive multiple times until they run out of energy. And as long as humans give into their vices, demons will always find a way into this world."

"Are you saying," Wukong says slowly, "that you're fighting a pointless war?" One that repeated every century?

"It isn't pointless." Aurelius mutters in a tone that Wukong's learned to recognize as 'I'm insulted, but not enough to pick a fight about it.' As far as things go on the Angel Anger Scale, it's two spots above 'I'm judging you for saying something truly incomprehensible' but just below 'I am going to zap you for your cheek, so please shut up now.'

"Quelling them gives the mortals peace for another hundred years. If they're virtuous enough, the next demon uprising can be crushed faster than it ever forms, but this one's been particularly nasty." Enough that they had to call in outside help. Something must have tainted the realm, but it isn't a thing Aurelius can look into while busying fighting off hordes of the wicked.

"The degree of malice needed to support this many demons is suspect. What I'm saying is—there's no reason for you to go back after this. Stay the full five years if you wish. I'll investigate after we clear the last of these strongholds—there should be a bigger culprit behind everything. "

Not a person, but a prevailing mindset. Whether it was greed, gluttony, or all the rest, blatant expressions of sin were hard to miss.

"Still, that'll be less hassle than what we're doing now. You can spend all your days sleeping if you prefer."

"Not on your life," Wukong shoots back. "I should just stop sleeping now and make it up in the 495 years afterwards. Might help the time pass faster."

Nevertheless, a part of him relaxes and squeezes back the hand holding his own, feeling an odd sense on comradeship. It's nothing like what he has with his monkeys—not by a long shot—but it probably is the warmest he's gonna get in this part of the universe.

"Guess I should be glad that my strength impressed you enough to vouch for me," he remarks casually. "I was only expecting to work, not get bonus vacation time too."

Aurelius only makes a noise of impatience in exchange. "Hurry up, the snow's falling faster."

"Hey, I could turn us both into flies," Wukong offers. "Speed won't even be an issue in that form, trust me."

"Please don't."

Wukong guffaws and looks down at their joined hands instead. As the snowstorm intensifies, it ends up being the most reliable point of reference in the blinding white, along with the flickering pattern on Aurelius's wrist.

"What're those symbols on your wrist, anyways? They never stop moving."

"Numbers," Aurelius replies, then amends, "It's nothing important, just a personal thing." He's distracted by a buffet of wind the next second, and forges forward in the vague direction of the demon camp. The mention of the dates remind him of his mother's last words again, but there's no time to entertain her wishes right now.

Next to him, Sun Wukong's expression turns thoughtful before his mutters are swallowed by the gales. "So it's numbers for you too..."

It was a little funny. This Heaven preferred straight lines in constructing their buildings, but their numbers were so round and curved. Meanwhile, things were perfectly reversed in his half of the world: rounded buildings, blocky numerals. His old master would probably be lecturing along the lines of opposing forces and yin and yang by now, but it's been centuries since he last listened in on those lessons.

He wondered if it reflected the nature of their celestials, too. The immortals in his Heaven were forever speaking around in circles, and no one could get to the point—probably why he got tricked to be Keeper of the Horses in the first place, then excluded from that peach banquet despite watching over all its fruit. (Sending the heavenly maidens to pick them for the party and spill the beans while he was on-duty? Kinda stupid, but also pretty rude if you asked him.)

In contrast, Aurelius and his Heaven is incredibly direct, and maybe a little too literal. All the questions he asked, he got answers back. Not to say Aurelius lacked depth or tact—he just felt the same, inside and out. And frankly, Wukong's thankful he doesn't have to spend extra brain cells guessing second or third meanings with every sentence out of the angel's mouth.

"You're lagging behind again," Aurelius barks at him from ahead.

Wukong wants to say something along the lines of, snow + short legs = fail, but then the snow on the ground starts parting for them of its own accord, making it easy to trudge a path forward.

Oh yeah, and he's got that side to him too. Though it was janky whenever he tried to show it.

The yapping delays them enough that the first of the northern demon's forces are moving out by the time they pounce, but it's nothing a few extra clones can't handle. The usual bloody brouhaha occurs, and in the aftermath Wukong's zipping on his nimbus through the decimated battlefront before tracking down the shining golden soul sitting on a rock in the middle of the bodies.

Aurelius has Ithuriel resting over his knees as he carefully cleans off its tip. Sun Wukong lands beside him with a fancy somersault and flashes him an OK sign.

"Checked the grounds, everyone's dead or dying. Helped along a few who were taking too long."

Aurelius nods, already used to his post-battle reports. "I've sent a signal to the legions. The rest of the angels will take care of purifying this place and sealing it off from human entry until the miasma clears."

"Couldn't you clear that with a wave of your hand?" After all, Aurelius was powerful enough.

"Demons are naturally attracted to sources of negative energy," Aurelius replies. "If any try to emerge from Hell again, they'll likely choose here instead of another location. It'll make it easier to post sentries and stall their efforts rather than try guessing where they'll pop up next."

Wukong listens, interested. "Didn't your father tell you to 'cleanse' the place thoroughly?"

"You really think my father knows better than me for these things?"

"See, this is why you should take his place." True to his rebellious nature, Wukong can't help stirring the pot. "Let him live a little. Can he really say he's ruled without someone trying to ursup the throne?"

"Sun Wukong." Aurelius stops cleaning his weapon and—in one abrupt motion—swings it to point at the monkey's throat instead. "You are a formidable fighter whose strength I respect, but your suggestions are thoroughly atrocious."

Laughing, Wukong's tail wraps around the handle of the spear and easily pushes it aside. "Who told you to take everything I say seriously?"

"I chose you, so I naturally have faith in your words." Aurelius sounds annoyed as he withdraws his weapon. "Don't bring up those things while other angels are in earshot. They may serve me, but their loyalty ultimately lies with father. I would need to fight all of Heaven first before he lets me touch him."

"Oh?" Wukong's heart leaps despite himself. "You know, I have some experience with that."

"Please don't."

"Hahahah!"

—

As usual, the divinus imperator finds fault with his son and lectures him after Aurelius makes a successful victory report. Watching as a literal fly on a holy pillar, Wukong's fairly certain that Domindick (or whatever his name was) is just jealous of being overshadowed by both wife and child. Actually, it was interesting that angels could start families in the first place—didn't God just make more whenever He wanted?

But no, there was something called a soulmate system in place, so sometimes they paired up—except Aurelius's parents weren't soulmates at all, but matched by the divinus himself so he could have powerful offspring to boss around—which kind of negated the point of soulmates in the first place.

Honestly? He wonders why a kid who was born from cheating the system even bothered following any rules. Maybe that was the difference between "people" and "beasts."

Born from the essence of Heaven and Earth, Sun Wukong had always done whatever the hell he wanted, following his heart and instincts. Aurelius lived life out of a rulebook, sticking to tradition even when it wasn't ideal. "People" liked order, rules, categories—at least that's as much as he's seen, both in Heaven and on Earth. They were forever closing themselves into convenient boxes, opening flaps now and then to speak to each other without ever really letting anyone in. It's why after two stints in Heaven, he still thinks home at Fruit Flower Mountain's best.

—

"I want to take a trip."

"I'll be busy today, but I can accompany you tomorrow."

At his desk, Aurelius is busy working on documents when Sun Wukong walks in with his latest request. Because the armbands restricts his distance from the keeper of the ring (Aurelius), the two of them are stuck traveling anywhere the other wants to go. Aurelius's demands are rare outside of asking Wukong for assistance in battles, so he's content to accompany the monkey wherever he wants to travel around Laetitia. Whether it's taking a dip in the volcano on Nioqu, flying into the frozen canyons of Unt, or backflipping between mountains at Esecoo, the angel's always catered to Wukong's whims, sometimes using the time to take a nap on the clouds or finish more paperwork while the monkey king exhausts his excess energy.

"This is going to be a longer trip than the others," Wukong says, resting palms on the edge of Aurelius's table.

The angel looks up, golden eyes flickering in thought. "...did you want to track down the missing primate tribe in Lylai? I thought the king of the birds agreed to do it for you. They'll send me a message when they find any clues."

"I don't mean longer in time, but distance," Wukong explains, and gets straight to the point. "I want to visit Flower Fruit Mountain."

Aurelius stops twirling the pen between his fingers.

"It's not against the rules while I'm in your 'custody,'" Wukong goes on. "And it's not as if I'll stay there—I want to leave some instructions for the elders at least, for—for while I'm indisposed." He coughs. "They won't know what to do otherwise."

Aurelius rests his pen on the table. "Your kind stopped dying after you erased their names from the Underworld. 500 years is long, but it's not forever. A monkey clan can survive that long on its own."

"A lot can happen in 500 years. You haven't even reached 150, so how would you know?"

The familiar brows crease. "Traveling between realms will take too long. I can't fly quickly enough to bring you there and back without abandoning my duties—"

"I'll take us there," Wukong cut in. "I know the way from the first time you brought me here. My somersaults can do it in an instant."

"...the same somersaults that trapped you in the Buddha's palm?"

"You don't know how many universes Buddha can fit in there," Wukong grumbles, then gets serious. "This is the only favor I want to request. I won't ask for anything after this, so—"

"Our relationship isn't built on favors."

Aurelius's voice turns Wukong cold, but the angel continues speaking as he straightens out his desk, stands up, and puts on his customary gloves and coat.

"Despite our current arrangement, I view you as my equal. You insult me by implying I hold any authority over you." The angel glances briefly at his ring before slipping his glove on; like magic, the golden band appears around his finger outside the leather a split second later, always ready at hand.

"Any instance where I 'punished' you for in the past were for perceived slights against God. I have no need nor interest to insert myself into that list."

Stepping around his desk, the blond offers Wukong a hand.

"I am here to help you as you've helped me. How do you propose to take me along on your 'somersaults?'"

3 Minutes Later.

"I refuse to believe that this was your only solution."

"It's one I've always used. Hasn't failed me yet—can you breathe in there?"

"Even if I couldn't, I won't expire from mere air loss."

A tiny Aurelius is tucked into the folds of Wukong's collar, his hands clutching on the monkey's clothes as the latter grins at him. Shrinking him was Wukong's idea to bring him along, though he spares the angel the indignity of being tucked into a pocket.

"Which way's the closest to my universe?" Wukong asks after the miniature settles down against his chest.

"You're taking me there and you don't know?"

"Hey, I'll recognize the way once we leave your world! Just show me the exit point first." Climbing out Aurelius's window, Wukong sets off on his nimbus according to the angel's instructions.

Behind a cloud, another angel flies out, staring at the retreating monkey with blank eyes. Once he's out of sight, the figure turns and flies towards the highest point of Heaven to report.

—

The eldest monkey in the clan nearly falls to his knees when Wukong descends upon them. Then he collapses again, when Wukong tells him he's only here for a visit, and won't be back until 500 years pass.

"My king, we'll do our best to await your return," the elder monkey murmurs while wiping away tears, "but without your protection, I fear..." He trails off, looking skyward.

If Heaven hadn't even shown the strongest of them mercy, then what could be said for the rest of his kind?

"Do your abilities allow you to cast a protection on this land?" From Sun Wukong's collar, the tiny Aurelius flies out and finds a perch to sit on the monkey's shoulder. He pointedly ignores the chittering cries of the monkeys around them at his sudden appearance.

"My circles of protection don't get that big," Wukong replied. "Even if I did, who's to say it'll still have an effect when I'm imprisoned?"

Mini-Aurelius summons mini-Ithuriel and spins it idly in his arms. "A valid point. Fortunately, I have a solution that might work."

"My king, who is... Is this a celestial?" the elder monkey stares at Aurelius with doubt, while the smaller monkeys jump at Sun Wukong's heels with undisguised curiosity.

"What is that?" "Who is he?"

"He has golden hair like us, but why doesn't he have hair anywhere else?" "They cut off his tail too, scary!"

Wukong pats the head of the nearest little monkey before digging out a handful of apples and oranges. This he throws into the crowds, sending the chittering mass scampering after them.

"He's an angel," he says to the elder monkey after a while. "Without him, this trip wouldn't have been possible."

"Unlike you, I'll be free the next 500 years," Aurelius continues. "My solution should still be effective even without me here."

"My king..." the elder monkey trails off again, but the worry in his eyes is evident. Do you trust him?

Having given that trust to Heaven and been burned both times, Wukong understands what he means, but smiles and pats the older monkey's shoulder in response. It's all right.

"Yeah?" he answers Aurelius. "Spit it out, I'm listening."

—

It's Aurelius himself who casts a divine barrier over Fruit Flower Mountain. Supplemented by Ithuriel's powers, the shield would repel demons and last the length of Wukong's prison sentence, though he promises to come back and renew the protection after 100 years.

"I suppose I can make it a personal trip after quelling every demon war. The times line up nicely." the angel remarks as they fly home. This time he's riding on Wukong's hair, holding onto the furry strands for support as they tumble through the skies.

"Then you should stay for the party I'll throw after I'm free," Wukong tosses back, to which Aurelius promises, "I'll bring my best wine."

The monkeys had offered him their own too, of course—brewed from peach blossoms blooming right on the mountain under the instruction of their one and only king. There's a gentle sweetness to it that makes him sleepy like a late spring afternoon, and the angel finds himself easing into a nap as he folds his wings around himself and settles into Wukong's fur. There's no fear of falling off while he wills his body to stay—telekinesis was helpful even when unconscious—so he only tells Wukong, "Don't raise a fuss bringing me to my desk."

—

Wukong doesn't wake him, but the trumpets do.

A row of angels blow on them to announce their arrival, forming a path in the skies leading to Aurelius's corner of Heaven. But it's the divinus imperator standing at the end of it that finally jolts Aurelius to his senses.

Sensing hostility, Wukong steps back but feels the ens of a sword poking him in the back. "Any ideas what's this about?" he mutters to the angel on his head.

"No, but I'll take care of it." Standing up, Aurelius leaps off Wukong and turns back into full-size in the process.

The Monkey King's already been condemned once for his actions against Heaven. Any sign of similar rebellion was prohibited severely by the Jade Emperor's court.

"What brings you here, father?" Aurelius asks first.

Dominic just smiles at him and shakes his head. "Such a shame."

Aurelius wrinkles his brows.

"To think, the child I raised in Heaven with my own hands...turned his back on me so soon."

"Don't beat around the bush." With a flap of his wings, Aurelius sends the angels around him backwards, creating a clearing around them.

Dominic visibly frowns at the arrogant display, but resumes soon enough. "I've inquired with the Jade Emperor's court. That heretic monkey you've brought to our world is nothing but an imposter and a blight. He's consorted with Death's officials and even sworn brotherhood with demon kings—to say nothing of his charges of thieving, looting, and killing."

The crease on Aurelius's forehead deepens, but he stands his ground. "His Heaven has already judged him. It isn't our place to interfere."

"It is when you've brought that stain into our holy kingdom," Dominic replies. "I had my suspicions when you two finished off the demons so soon, but they were confirmed when one of my angels spotted him sneaking away this morning. To think you went along with him..." he shakes his head again. "Conspiracy from my own blood and flesh...this is a betrayal against not only me, but our God, Aurelius."

"Conspiracy?"

"Yes. What was done once can be done again. You and him aim to overthrow me by joining forces. In return, you promised to help him protect his clan!"

Aurelius looks up, incredulous. Wukong's speed was faster than himself, to say nothing of the other angels. How could his father have gotten news of their trip before they even came back?

"You're good at making stories up, aren't you?" Wukong speaks up. Refusing to stand in Aurelius's shadow, he steps out from behind the angel until they're shoulder-to-shoulder, lips drawn into a snarl. "If he listened to even half of my suggestions, who knows where'd you be by—"

"Where are you getting these claims from, father?" Aurelius interrupts smoothly before Wukong talks himself into a pit again.

"I don't know about the rest, but my third eye can confirm it saw both of you before I departed for this realm today."

At the new voice, both Wukong and Aurelius look back in surprise.

Erlang Shen is flying towards them on a cloud, his extra eye in question staring at them both unblinkingly.

"The Jade Emperor sent me as an emissary to see how all was faring after the divinus imperator raised concerns," the immortal continued, coming to a stop on Aurelius's other side. "Imagine my surprise when I spotted both you and that monkey on Fruit Flower Mountain while flying past."

That made sense. It had taken time to speak with the monkeys, fix the barrier, and join their feasting afterwards. If Erlang Shen had seen or heard any of their actions during that time, it would've been obvious what Aurelius and Wukong were doing.

"I'm not sure how the imperator jumped to those other conclusions," Erlang Sheng added in a lower voice. "Excuse my impertinence, but there's a strange air around him—something heavy and dark. It's different from yours...not one I expect to see from a celestial."

Erlang Shen was prized for his vision—not only able to see long distances, but through deception and illusions as well. Although Aurelius shares no such gifts, he takes in the immortal's description and observes his father again. Dominic has been unpleasant to him since birth, so much that he's grown numb to the man, but the ugliness in him sticks out like a sore thumb after the outsider's description.

From his other side, Wukong snorts. "Do we need you to tell us that? He's been a jealous git since day one."

Jealousy... Aurelius minds slowly connects the dots. Envy. Greed. Gluttony. Sloth. Wrath. Lust. Pride.

No matter which sin he thought of, each of them seemed to fit his father to a point. He craved power he lacked, coveted the strength of others, did nothing to earn his place, raged at him endlessly and never could forsake his pride. For a human to fall into temptation was disastrous enough, but imagine an angel born to lead them?

No wonder we've had to fight off so many demons. Father's ambitions have swallowed him whole, and Hell is rejoicing as a result.

"The divinus is right," Aurelius extends his arm, and Ithuriel materializes with anticipation into his hands. "There's indeed a blight in Heaven."

Both Erlang Shen and Wukong grow alert at his actions, but Aurelius only points the singing spear at the angel opposite them. Immediately, Dominic summons a flock of angels to flank him from behind.

"Traitor," he hisses. "Heretic! You would raise your weapon against me—me, who was appointed by God Himself?!"

"What God giveth, God taketh away," Aurelius retorts. "You've forgotten your scriptures again, father."

"You—!"

Ithuriel's song rises to a screech, and a second battle against Heaven begins.

—

"When I came to visit, I wasn't expecting to get drawn into an all-out war, Aurelius!" Erlang Shen kicks aside an errant flock of angels with his foot, then whistles for his hunting dog to tackle another group out of the way. "My job is to hunt down demons, not beat up celestials!"

"Maybe if you kept your eye shut once in a while, it'll cause you less trouble!" Wukong retorts from above. Spinning his cudgel, he sends another assortment of angels tumbling back through the skies. "How many of these are there?!"

Off on one side and between them both, Aurelius waits for Ithuriel to finish its latest song before replying with a number that makes the other two blanch. "Most of them are scattered around the world doing their duties. I can't guarantee that my father won't recall them back just to deal with us, however."

"You couldn't have picked a different day to fight him?" Erlang Shen cried.

"You really think he would've let us leave after that?" Wukong retorts. "Next time, bring an army with you too!"

"Woof!" Erlang Shen's dog barks.

Wukong just snorts. "You don't count."

But it's true that they're stuck in a hard spot. As a celestial of a different heavenly court, Erlang Shen is bound by the laws of karma not to kill the angels here. The restriction goes double for Wukong, who's already in trouble for the last mess he caused back home. Meanwhile, the angels themselves are bound by celestial law to the divinus's will, so unless Aurelius defeated Dominic and took over the position himself, they would blindly launch themselves at him and his allies over and over again.

In a lull during the fighting, the trio find themselves standing back-to-back while angels surround them on all sides. None of them are hurt, but neither have they made any progress towards Dominic, who's retreated back to the heavenly hall while his army tires them out. Meanwhile, the angels around them only grow in number, their flapping wings crowding against each other as they press in with swords, spears, and whatever weapons they can get their hands on.

"They're not giving us a chance for a breather," Erlang Shen pants while his dog snaps at the angels' feet with little effect. They don't seem to process the pain or recoil at all.

"I've been in worse situations," Wukong scoffs, but even he's feeling the heat. A bead of sweat drips off his forehead before he turns to Aurelius. "There's an idea I wanna try, but it's gonna mean Erlang plays backup while we pull it off."

Despite their endless stalemate, Erlang Shen just shouts, "Don't worry about me! I've dealt with a more annoying bastard than these guys, too."

"Do as you need," Aurelius says, with only enough time to spare Wukong a glance. But it's one he already knows.

I trust you, the eyes say.

Next second, the flood of angels rush in and swallow them whole in a ball of white. The rustling, restless mass of wings and robes writhes and squirms in place like its own living thing.

Then it bursts from within, scattering the angels asunder. They've been knocked backwards—by Wukong and his clones, each wielding cudgels to beat them away. A second later, Erlang Shen and Aurelius join in the fight, taking advantage of the clearing their ally's made to advance further.

Meanwhile, one angel sent flying in the aftershock keeps beating his wings to soar higher and higher, aiming his sights at the heavenly hall.

Dominic is pacing back and forth restlessly when the flapping of wings make him look up with a start.

"Divinus." the nondescript angel lands on the ground in a perfect one-kneed bow, hand over his chest. "Reporting from the battlefield, the intruders have joined forces with the Divine Son to push back our angels."

"Did I ask for an update?" Dominic snaps back. "Why aren't you with the rest?"

The angel looks up, eyes as blank as the others. "I thought it my duty to inform you of their progress, divinus."

"Since when have I asked any of you to think for yourselves?" Turning on his heel, Dominic starts striding towards the bowing figure. "Return this instant, or—"

Now!

The angel leaps straight into the skies before somersaulting forwards, hands closing around a cudgel that materializes mid-air to strike at Dominic's skull. The divinus quickly blocks with his own sword, slashing through the angel's wings before he backs away in a hurry. Dawning realization darken his eyes in fury. "You tricked me."

The "angel" loses his form and shifts back into Sun Wukong, who's shed a few hairs in the wake of his "wing" injury. "Those things are a real liability," he mutters under his breath.

The heavenly hall (where he broke a floor tile) is the same as he remembers: open roof, blue skies, and pillars stretching out every couple of feet. It's also annoyingly accessible to anyone who bothers to fly in, which is why Wukong sighs when Dominic all but summons a mini army of angels the next instant to block his way. Fortunately, the divinus wouldn't run from here—something about divine authority needing his presence to be valid, and the seat at the end cementing his position blah blah. Aurelius's explanation had been a little rushed, but basically the guy needed to stay if he didn't want his son stealing his throne during his absence.

"Y'know, I've been on my best behavior," Wukong begins, "but compared to your son, you really treat your guests like shit."

He lifts his cudgel, and Dominic raises his voice in turn. "You can't kill them! You'll be punished harder instead!"

"Yeah well, unlike you, I actually have guts." Wukong swings, but it's not at the angels. Instead, a precise blast of compressed air shatters the two rows of marble pillars before him, sending their pieces flying amongst the heavenly host and Dominic as a storm of stone fragments. And brains.

No one notices the tiny white pebble resting on the end of his weapon that shoots forward with Wukong's strike. It mixes into the airborne chaos, dodging wings, limbs, and fragments with skillful twists and turns until the path to Dominic is clear. The divinus is hastily rubbing dust out of his eyes, but he's still too slow to react. First a golden spear grows out of thin air, then the rest of Aurelius's body, as he sheds the pebble transformation to stab his weapon through Dominic's shoulder. The momentum sends the older angel falling backwards until Aurelius's weapon is pinning him against the marble.

Looming over him, Aurelius bends down to rest a foot on the other man's chest. "It's over, father."

Dominic stares up at his son in disbelief. Then his expression twists—first into a snarl, then into a smile. "You're not the only know who knows how to play tricks," he whispers.

A bad premonition hits Aurelius, and his head whips back—

"Gerroff!" So many angels have piled themselves on top of Sun Wukong that their very weight forces his head to bow. More grab at his shoulders, his arms—pulling his limbs around like a puppet until he's raising his cudgel in front of him. "I said, get off—!!"

Aurelius moves to help, but he's tackled by angels in turn. They wrap their hands around his hands, their wings around his face—blinding his vision, muffling his voice. They urge his weapon down until it cuts through flesh, bone, and muscle—finally tearing through his father's quivering heart.

And yet after that, he hears a sickening squelch that isn't from his spear, and his father's voice as faint as a leaf's in the wind.

"As you've already taken my strength, I'll claim yours in turn."

By the time Aurelius knocks all of the angels aside and breaks himself free, his father is already dead: slaughtered by the one spear in Heaven capable of killing angels and demons alike.

The other end of the heavenly hall is silent.

Leaving Ithuriel in his father's corpse, Aurelius flies through the broken-down remains of the sacred space to the pile of feathers and bodies on the other side. His throat is too tight to talk, so he just uses his thoughts instead: moving the blank husks of his father's angels out of the way, now more like dolls without their owner to command them.

Closer to the scene, he catches the stench of blood. It isn't Wukong's own, but those of angels. Two are still impaled on the end of his cudgel, while a third bleeds out peacefully on the side from the same wound in her stomach. Wukong couldn't have done this himself, Aurelius knows. But his father could tell his angels to take those hands, and plunge the weapon into waiting victims, just so—

"You can't kill them! You'll be punished harder instead!"

Still, it's the quiet that bothers him most. There was no one Wukong would stay silent for this long, so Aurelius assumes he must have fainted—was this the punishment his father meant?—but as he goes to roll the unresponsive monkey on his back, the rapidly cooling body raises alarm bells in his head.

"Are you all right?" He shakes him gently first, then harder. "Wake up—Wukong."

Aurelius tries prying open the eyelids next, then testing for breathing. His hands glow with healing light, but touching the body does nothing beyond diffusing it throughout the limbs. The angel is incredulous. He's revived people from the dead when they were only pieces, but when he tries in Sun Wukong's case, he can't sense the soul anywhere. What he has now is equivalent to an empty husk, a body that once housed an immortal.

A body as still as his mother's.

Aurelius's brows knit before he feels a sharp pain in his wrist. He glances down, expecting to catch an overlooked injury. Instead he sees the always flickering numbers on his skin slow down before etching their permanent forms into his flesh.

He finds it ironic. Losing a companion is already difficult, but now he's lost the soulmate he's never met, too. All that aside, it still doesn't make sense that Wukong's soul would just vanish—

"Woof woof!"

At the sound of barking, Aurelius looks up: it's Erlang Shen and his dog, finally freed of fighting angels with the divinus gone.

"You succeeded," Erlang Shen sighs and holds out something in his palm. "I collected Wukong's hairs for him. Where is he—"

He pauses then, taking in the sight of blood, bodies, and the still figure resting by Aurelius's side.

Realizing that the cudgel's still stabbing through the two corpses, Aurelius fixes Erlang Shen with a serious look. "He didn't do it."

Erlang Shen's gaze shifts towards Ithuriel at the other end of the hall, then back to Aurelius. He can more or less inference what happened himself. "Removing that divinus was the correct choice."

"I thought Wukong struck his name off the registers of the Underworld," Aurelius couldn't care less as he moved on. "He shouldn't have died. Do the murders negate his immortality?" Even if they weren't his fault.

Erlang Shen comes closer to inspect Wukong himself. "No, it wouldn't. And Heaven wouldn't punish him for such an obvious setup."

Something else then, had to be at work.

"Where do the dead go in your world, if not Heaven?" Erlang Shen asks.

"Hell," Aurelius replied without missing a beat. The Land of the Damned, where demons trapped mortal souls to suffer for eternity.

Erlang Shen narrows his eyes. "And where do dead angels go after defying the will of Heaven?"

"Their souls are destroyed on sight. But I didn't get to capture my father's before it left his body. Unless it destroyed itself, most likely he'd go seek refuge with those very same demons." It was something that he'd have to look into later.

Erlang Shen's lips thin. "Do you know what the Goddess of Mercy decreed for Sun Wukong's additional punishment?"

"No."

The voice is curt, and Erlang Shen almost winces—the golden eyes on him feel like they could burn a hole through his skull if they wanted.

"I overheard it while she was proposing it to the Jade Emperor. If Wukong ever hurt another celestial before his 500-year-old trial was up, his strength would be sealed and his abilities reduced to that of a mortal. Even if you can't kill him, stealing his soul's ridiculously easy then. It's just that no one in our world dares to claim it, but yours..."

Aurelius sits up straighter. "Are you saying his soul's in Hell?"

"Where else do your mortal souls go, if not Heaven?" Erlang Shen echoes his own words again. "You might as well check if your father's is there too. I can't think of anyone else who could steal Wukong's while we were both distracted—"

In the middle of his sentence, two soft clanks interrupt the conversation. Both men look down to see the golden armbands around Sun Wukong's wrists have fallen off.

"That's to be expected too," Erlang Shen explains. "They were created to contain an immortal soul, not his physical shell. These aren't half as handy without the right person in them. When Nezha revived with lotus roots, his plant body ended up being much more useful than—"

But Aurelius isn't listening. He catches something on one of Wukong's wrists and lifts it up for a better look: flickering square patterns that carry a certain degree of familiarity.

"What's this?" he asks.

Erlang Shen only glances at them. "Ah, that's what we call the divine match. You use them to find your zhiji—I suppose that's soulmate in your world. The numbers are supposed to show their death date, but if they don't stop like these, then his partner's probably immortal. It's because—"

'—those who are immortal will never see their time stop moving." Aurelius finishes for him. "These are numbers?"

"They're written differently in our part of the world. You have that tradition too?" Erlang Shen's relieved—it saves him an explanation. But his tone grows curious next. "Wukong never mentioned his other half was an immortal. Heaven might've treated him better if he did—or perhaps, thrown him out from day one. I wonder if he stuck around so long because he was searching for them..."

"I don't think anyone told him what they meant," Aurelius says slowly, and turns to show his wrist too. "He asked me what mine were."

"Ah, that's..." Erlang Shen's voice sinks a little at the unmoving digits on Aurelius's wrist. "...My condolences."

"It's today's date." Dropping Wukong's hand, the angel places his arms under the Monkey King's body before lifting him up. "They actually stopped...just now, before you arrived."

Erlang Shen looks at him, speechless. "...huh?" he finally manages.

"My mother has looked up every angel in this realm to find my match, all without success." Turning, Aurelius starts the slow walk towards the throne. With some hesitation, Erlang Shen follows behind with his dog.

"It got to a point," Aurelius continues. "where I begin to think it was a myth, and now I wonder if it's just coincidence. After all, why would my soulmate be from another world? But that's something I can confirm myself after we find Wukong again."

"You think that Wukong's—" Erlang Shen stops spacing out to look up in surprise. "No wait, you said we?"

"The leader of all the angels and your own Monkey King expired, all while you were here to visit," Aurelius says. Coming to his father's body, he doesn't hesitate to step on the corpse on his path to the throne. "How do you propose to explain things to the Jade Emperor without implicating yourself?"

"But I didn't do anything." Erlang Shen's eyes narrow. "Are you threatening me?"

"I am telling you what any sensible ruler would think," Aurelius says. In front of the divinus' seat, he pauses and turns around. "I will also need someone with a working brain for the next part of my tasks, and you're the best candidate to assist me."

Unfortunately, most angels in Heaven were...out of their minds, to put it politely.

"I am here as an emissary!" Erlang Shen protested.

Aurelius sits down. A glow suffuses the throne before the changes are instant. Broken pillars recover their pieces and begin rebuilding themselves from the ground up, while the fallen angels suddenly rise from the ground to circle around the hall. Pure light shines down from above and illuminates Aurelius in gold before a crown of light materializes on his head; it's only there briefly before fading from sight. Erlang Shen is left gaping as a heavenly chorus fills the air from the angels opening their mouths to sing, drowning him in music as beautiful as it is arresting.

"Heaven has acknowledged me as the new divinus," Aurelius says when the celestial strains die down and the angels have dragged the dead bodies away. "As its representative, I humbly request your assistance in recovering Sun Wukong's soul from hell."

The weight of authority rests in his voice. As the new commander of Heaven, Aurelius holds about as much status as the Jade Emperor back home. Besides realizing that he should've left before the angel took a seat, Erlang Shen senses that it'd be unwise to refuse him now. Resigning himself to fate, the immortal sighs. "What do you need?"

Aurelius smiles. "First, lend me an army."

—

The annals of Hell would record the year that the new divinus ascended the throne as the worst nightmare of their undying lives. Although there was no direct violence—no demons were attacked, and nothing was destroyed, for Hell still needed to exist to punish the wicked—the legions of two separate Heavens marching through their realms was enough to send half of the demonic population into a frenzy, and the other hiding in their homes lest they were blinded and burned by holy light.

Perhaps the most terrifying moment of all wasn't when the new divinus picked out a soul to save, but a second soul to punish. It was unfit for Heaven, but too good for Hell, and so the divinus would be dealing with it personally. For generations on, the older demons scared the younger devils silly with threats of the exact same thing.

Throughout it all, only the ruler of Hell was laughing and smiling during the visit. He even proposed that Hell take an equivalent tour of Heaven, an idea that the divinus shot down but was accepted by the foreign three-eyed immortal at his side, who proposed that Morningstar lead a delegation to his realm's Underworld one day to meet their Yan Wang for tea.

So all in all, it was a successful trip, with no one miserable except the second soul that the divinus stuffed into a tiny bottle and threw into his jacket pocket—but no one cared about him except to say good riddance.

—

When Wukong wakes, it's to the warm kiss of sunlight and the soft song of birds. His memories are fuzzy—he vaguely remembers getting overwhelmed by angels, then flashes of red mixed with pain. There's the quiet sound of turning pages; he turns his head and sees Aurelius sitting in a chair by the window of his hut, reading a book.

He half lifts his body—a little harder than expected, since it feels heavier than usual—and rubs his eyes. Considering that the two of them were fighting a literal angel army the last time he was conscious, this scene is probably a good sign.

"You bested your old man, huh?" he croaks.

The page turning stops. It occurs to Sun Wukong then that Aurelius must be skimming the text, or not reading at all, because no one flips pages that fast.

The angel looks up to meet Wukong's eyes, who's struck by the depth of the golden irises staring back at him. They seem brighter yet deeper all at once, giving Aurelius a sense of distance even though it's the same face he's seen for months. He realizes he's distracted, but then notices that Aurelius hasn't spoken at all. Before he could ask again—

"Yes. Twice." Rising to his feet, the angel strides leisurely to Wukong's bed. "I keep him around to pick on from time to time. Last week I put his soul into a clump of grass and threw it into a pig pen so they could trample him into the mud."

Wukong can't tell whether he's serious or not—then again, he doesn't think Aurelius ever jokes—but eases himself into a sitting position next. "Bad luck for the grass, I guess."

Aurelius smiles briefly, then settles down to sit on the edge of his bed. "It took you longer to recover because your soul was in a vulnerable state when you were dragged to Hell," he explains. "You woke up after it finished healing. Do you still feel uncomfortable anywhere?"

After Wukong confirms he's well, the angel settles back in his seat with a more serious expression.

"I need to show you something."

The armbands are back on his wrists, but Aurelius removes one temporarily before resting the arm besides his own. Something like a light show plays out before their eyes: the numbers flickering on their wrists pause and glow in sync, before settling down to scroll through numerals at the same rate.

"That's neat," Wukong begins, before looking up. "What's it mean, exactly? We got the same heartrate?"

In response, Aurelius floats over a cup of hot tea and a plateful of peaches to hover in the air by Wukong's bed.

"I'll explain, but you should refresh yourself first. You've been asleep for months."

—

Three peaches and God knows how many cups of tea later (it's not his fault the thing keeps refilling itself), Aurelius is still talking and Wukong can't find a spot to speak his piece.

...he doesn't know what his piece's even supposed to be at this rate, honestly.

"It doesn't mean we need to stay together forever," Aurelius goes on. "It only means—at least to me—that if you need someone you can trust on your side, I will always be an option."

Apparently his punishment's been halved as well? 250 years instead of 500, because Aurelius argues he has a right to shoulder half for a soulmate if he wants. Except he can't exactly be put under a mountain because he's busy overseeing Heaven now, so they did an equivalent exchange by taking away 250 years of blessings from his life to repay karma with virtue, blah blah—

"You don't have to do all that just because—because we're this," Wukong finally sputters, all calm and cool and completely not awkward at all.

"I would've tried even if we weren't," Aurelius says simply. "You helped me first. It's not about repaying favors—" he speaks quickly, before Wukong gets other ideas. "It's because you're you."

A stone monkey who obtained immortality, who fought for his kind, who faced off against Heaven and all but won, only to be crushed for his ideals and yet keep going. For an angel who'd lived all his life obeying orders, Sun Wukong was an abnormality, a contradiction that should have been destroyed as soon as he rebelled.

For what was more absolute than Heaven?

Yet now Aurelius thinks, but what is more absolute than the free spirit who strives on despite being crushed again and again?

"In all my life, I've never met a soul like yours," Aurelius finishes. "I want to spend the rest of mine getting to know it better. Naturally, that means eliminating obstacles to our time."

"You're going to see plenty of other things in your life," Wukong finds himself suddenly interested in the scenery outside the window. "Don't just focus on me. You're barely over 100 years old."

"Time passes faster in my world," Aurelius observes. "I'll catch up eventually."

"That's not how it works."

Aurelius laughs. It's a nice sound, and Wukong finds himself turning back in spite of himself, just to see what it looks like on his face. He expects it to make the angel look younger, but the softened features don't lose their maturity. A gentle serenity suffuses them instead—calming and relaxed.

Privately, Wukong admits that it's not the worst thing in the world seeing this face for the rest of his life, either.

Probably.

—

When the five years are up and Aurelius brings him back to the Jade Emperor's court, Wukong makes him promise not to visit him while he's stuck under a mountain, because that's just damned embarrassing.

When 245 years pass and he's finally freed, Aurelius greets him first anyways in all his messy, unkempt glory. Then he cheerfully whisks him away to get cleaned up before bringing him to Flower Fruit Mountain for their promised post-punishment party.

Sun Wukong discovers that his alcohol capacity's as excellent as ever and that he really likes Aurelius's brewed wine, while Aurelius himself gets drunk for the first time on the Jade Rabbit's liquor—blame Erlang Shen, who sent a bottle he'd snagged from Chang'e's palace during the Moon Festival from the year before. Somehow he's befriended them both and it works out, sort of.

When 250 more years pass, Wukong has to leave again—this time to help a Tang monk fulfill his mission to obtain scriptures from India. He makes Aurelius promise not to distract him, but the latter shows up briefly in the crowd when he returns to the capital after his mission to clap with the rest.

Later on, when Wukong ascends to Buddhahood by his own merits, he's exasperated but not surprised to see a certain blond angel waiting to congratulate him up in Heaven again.

His (former) master walks to his side, bemused. "Wukong, who's this?"

"An angel," Wukong explains. "...my angel, I guess?"

It wasn't like anyone else was gonna claim a guy with his status. Turning towards the sound of Aurelius's wings, he greets the other with a grin.

"Sooooo, how boring did things get back home without me for the last 16 years?"

—

Even in the end, Aurelius can't tell whether he's completely found happiness.

Joy is a concept, not an object or thing. It's less owned than given, more gained when shared. It comes and goes, but even when absent, the memory of it is enough to keep him warm. He's happy whenever he meets his soulmate, though. And it doesn't affect his duties to God, his kingdom, or the angels and humans who look to him for guidance.

Humans would probably consider this perfect. For now, he's satisfied with calling himself content.

In any case, they both have an eternity to figure things out.

—

Footnotes:

This AU takes place right after Sun Wukong wrecks havoc in Heaven but obviously before he gets put under a rock mountain for 500 years. According to this page, Wukong would've been approximately in his late 400s and already immortal from previous cultivation training (although the peaches augmented this further). It was also noted that he served in Heaven twice, first as a Keeper of the Horses for a decade and then as guardian of the immortality peaches for over a century.

Time is a bubble in both worlds. It is said that the 49 days Wukong spends being refined in Laozi's furnace were 49 "heavenly days," which equates to a far longer time on Earth, even closer to years/months. I headcanoned the passage of time in Jade Emperor's heaven to be slightly slower than Aurelius' heaven, so he was gone with the delegation to the East for just "a month" by his time measurements.

Meanwhile, time in the mortal world passes much slower than the celestial one in both worlds, which explains how Wukong and Aurelius could go to Flower Fruit Mountain and back within the span of a few hours..

Can't remember if Wukong needs to eat (in JTTW he's always looking for food for his master not himself), but I know he chooses to well enough, so I just ran with that idea. Plus he likes peaches so yeah, lemme indulge the lil guy.

This version of Aurelius was fortunate enough to have his mother live for 102 years instead of dying right at birth; therefore he grew up mellower in comparison. However, as Dominic kept them both busy fighting for Heaven and commanding different divisions of angels, mother and son didn't have many chances to meet.

The "soulmate" connection I explored in this AU was more mental/emotional than physical; I wanted to see if they could vibe that way and I think in the end it sorta worked out. but my god they would not stop yapping in my head the entire time

every time i write a drabble a random song gets put on loop to help me get the right feels (has no relation for plot); u can thank 10+ hours of as fate has decreed + with glory i shall fall + chains of oath, echoes of promise for this one yeah i love wuwa music

You can imagine season 2 in your head this already got way, waaaay away from me hahaaha h elp

#sunsage #𝔔𝔲𝔢𝔯𝔶 ࿐ answered #𝔉𝔞𝔟𝔩𝔢𝔰 ࿐ drabbles #religion tw #death tw #cannibalism mention #long post #for all these AUs i'm putting Klaus magically in a box *salutes*#YMMV with wukong characterization b/c i took him out of canon at a pretty early point but he talks like later wukong oops 🙇‍♀️#'write a soulmate AU' 'OK' *writes 90% plot with 10% soulmate stuff and no romance*

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