#sir Aziraphale of the table round

[worrynoodle]

This moment.

I'm assuming he can't see very well through the helmet, because when he locks eyes with Aziraphale he looks taken aback for a moment before his eyes soften.

His eyes completely betray him, no wonder he wears the glasses.

[snarky-synesthete]

Now Complete: "A Warrior in a Garden"

My reverse-bang piece for the Good Omens Fairy Tale Minibang is complete at four chapters! The final chapter includes the beautiful art that inspired the fic by @smollsmule, but I'm going to let them post that first. (If you want to see it, check it out in the fic!)

Also, omg Smule, these tags are so kind:

"someone who actually put in the research" LOOK. I can't NOT get it at least close to historically accurate...although the idea of historically accurate Arthuriana is almost a contradiction in terms. I feel like I'm sort of twirling my hair like "omg thank you, you noticed...!"

[worrynoodle]

Agh! Can I get this as an alternate book cover?! This is stunning!

saints

[hanahanumana]

Sir Aziraphale of Table Round

"I am here to speak to the Black Knight! .. Is that you under there Crowley?"

[aziraphales-library]

I read a fic ages ago and can't find it anywhere

Az is a Knight going to save a princess that ends up being crowley, and its just crack and funny. I cant really remember a lot of it but some of it goes like "fear not for i aziraphale am hear to rescue... oh for fucks sake" then crowley says "well you took your time" 😂

Think it was on a03, if anyone can find it I'd be very grateful 🙏

The only one I kind find similar to this is...

The Lady and the Knight by die_traumerei (E)

Sir Aziraphale of the Table Round has been dispatched, along with the rest of the knights, to find holy relics. (He's seen them, they're not all that.) In the midst of his questing, he comes across Crowley, now in the guise of a fine lady. A quick rescue later, they're sharing dinner, a few bottles of wine and, inevitably, a bed. Normally it's too dangerous for them to be together, but on this one night, under particular protections Crowley has laid, who can resist temptation? Definitely not the angel who gives into temptation at every turn, I can tell you that. Featuring love confessions, plenty of sex, bitching about their bosses, and the fact that Aziraphale named his horse Crowley, which goes over better than you'd think.

- Mod D

[yeahthatswhatimtolkienabout]

Okay so, I'm getting increasingly confused over the timeline of when Aziraphale and Crowley have met over the ages.

Since I'm writing a S3 fic with lots of flashbacks, I figured that I needed to have a concrete and canon timeline so I don't end up accidentally writing a meeting when there shouldn't be one (ie when Crowley was asleep in the 14th century), and I cannot for the life of me find one that has S2 in it so I present to you:

The Nice and Accurate (hopefully) Timeline of Aziraphale & Crowley and their many meetings throughout the ages.

By Yeahthatswhatimtolkienabout.

Pls let me know if I've missed anything.

Before time was invented - God created the universe.

Before the Beginning - Our dynamic duo meet for the first time, as Crowley creates a Nebula with Aziraphale's help.

After The Beginning (the bible never gave dates for this kinda thing) - Crowley saunters vaguely downwards towards hell with the others who are cast out.

4004 B.C. - Eve is tempted by the Demon Crowley (in snake form) to eat the forbidden fruit. This is the first time we see Crowley in his demon form and the first time he (as a demon) meets Aziraphale, well - that we know of anyway.

3004 B.C, Mesopotamia - OI SHEM! Aziraphale and Crowley meet and watch as Noah gathers the animals two by two onto the ark.

2500 B.C, Uz - Aziraphale and Crowley work together to save Job's children from being killed. Aziraphale lies to heaven and fears he will be taken to hell. Bildad the Shuite is a babe.

33 A.D., Golgotha - Aziraphale and Crowley witness the crucifixion of Jesus. Crowley remarks that he 'showed Jesus the kingdoms of Earth'.

41 A.D., Rome - Aziraphale tempts Crowley to Oysters.

537 A.D., the Kingdom of West Essex - Knight of the table round, Sir Aziraphale encounters Crowley as the Black Knight. This is where the 'deal' is first raised.

1301 A.D - 1400 A.D - Crowley sleeps through the 14th century.

1601 A.D The Globe Theatre, London - Aziraphale and Crowley meet at a production of Hamlet. They have been participating in the 'deal' for some time now.

1650 A.D - Aziraphale does the apology dance for the first time.

1793 A.D, Paris, France - Aziraphale is about to be beheaded, but Crowley intervenes and saves him.

1800 A.D Soho, London - Aziraphale opens his bookshop and Crowley successfully prevents him from returning to heaven at Gabriel's orders, by fooling him with some mannequins.

1827 A.D Edinburgh - Crowley and Aziraphale meet Elspeth, a body snatcher, and are caught up in her endeavours.

Aziraphale then does not see Crowley until...

1862 A.D London's St. James Park - Crowley asks Aziraphale for Holy Water, as a 'just in case'. Appalled, Aziraphale leaves.

1941 A.D London - Aziraphale is caught up in a bait and switch with some Nazis. He is rescued by Crowley. One thing leads to another and Aziraphale is a magician in a show, the Nazi's become Zombies and to cut a long story short, it ends with the pair dining together.

1967 A.D Soho, London - Crowley meets Lance Corporal Shadwell and plans to steal Holy Water from a church. Hearing of this, Aziraphale appears to him in his Bentley and delivers a flask of it to him.

2008 A.D Soho, London - Crowley and Aziraphale meet to discuss the Antichrist and plan to become his godparents to raise him as a 'normal' child, neither influenced by heaven or hell.

2008 A.D - 2019 A.D - Crowley disguises himself as Nanny Ashtoreth and Aziraphale, as the Gardener Brother Francis, and the two try to influence Warlock.

2019 A.D - The events of the first season of Good Omens happens, our pair prevent Armageddon and live happily ever... wait what, a second season?

2020 A.D - 2022 A.D - Lockdown happens. This is where the 'Lockdown' video takes place.

2023 A.D - Pain, otherwise known as Season 2, happens.

I really hope this helps some of you with fic planning and stuff. I was getting really confused over when they met and when certain things started happening, that I needed a record for myself - then thought I should share it!

Edited to add: Thank you for the comments, pointing out some things I've missed! I've added lots of them in now. I've only really included events where the two have met (either in show or in book), and have not added in the bits that Neil Gaiman has added (such as the Wild West scenes etc). If there is a script book for S2 and they are in there - I will come back and add them in.

For a timeline that goes over other significant events in their history, please check out the amended version by @graviitron - they've added some cool bits in there, so thank you! 🥰

[drconstellation]

Once and Future Royalty

Just, stay with me on this one. I know its going to look crazy at the start, but trust me, I know where I'm going.

It all started with the 537AD scene in Wessex in the opening montage of "Hard Times," S1E3. Yeah, the one where Aziraphale is supposed to be a knight of the Round Table and Crowley is role-playing the Black Knight, and they are both so super-squeaky shiny clean - not a speck of dirt or mud on them. wtf! It looks out of place, unrealistic, and was bugging the crap out of me, like a stone in your shoe. It just didn't fit. I mean, why put a myth, a legend, into that sequence? Oh, OK, yeah, the preceding stories from the Bible, like the Garden of Eden and the Flood, aren't "myths" as well, you say? Hmm. In the context of the Good Omens AU, being a biblical based story, they belong there far more than the legend of King Arthur.

King Arthur, who supposedly united Britain under his rule during the late 5th century and early 6th century, was shown to have the divine right to rule by wielding the mighty sword Excalibur. Some stories tell of Arthur pulling Excalibur from a stone. Some tell of him receiving Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake. Either way, it was bestowed upon him by divine grace. Despite his triumph in battle, he left no heirs, as his queen, the fair Guinevere, was barren. She had a long-running love affair with the greatest knight of the court, Sir Lancelot, but despite this being an open secret in court Arthur would not put her aside. The knights of the Round Table in the court of Camelot were near-paragons of Christian virtue, and there are many tales of their search for the Holy Grail, the cup from the Last Supper of Jesus Christ.

In the end, mortally wounded in battle, Arthur was taken away for healing, and never seen again. It was said he would return when Britain was at it most direst hour to save the day once more. A "messianic" return.

The Once and Future King.

Now, I'm no Arthurian novice; I drank up all of T. H. White as a teenager, read the Dark is Rising multiple times, Marion Zimmer Bradley's interpretation and what ever else I could lay my hands on for a good couple of decades. And there is LOTS of King Arthur stuff around. You are not left wanting for anything new to read or consume. And I'll bet there are a fair few of you also out there who know a quite bit about the legend as well. Oh, and I can't tell you how many times I have watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I still walk around quoting it day-to-day, like the good little Gen-Xer I am, having grown up on that stuff. So I really should have listened to my intuition when bits of Monty Python kept popping up in my brain in response to other parts of GO I was thinking about. (Staaay, I said, stay with me here....)

I kept chewing away furiously on the Wessex problem, growling in feral frustration at it, but also kept reading and sorting out some other ideas and metas at the same time. Eventually I found the key in a tiny little post, about a small detail in the 1941 Blitz episode S2E4, of all places. I wanted to slap myself with how much was staring me in the face so obviously once the door opened. And the damn beauty of it is, that I already written about some it, out of context, without knowing the why.

OK. Where to start this journey...hmmm, back to Monty Python, because, guess what - the Wessex scene is actually riffing off one the more famous skits out the the Holy Grail. The scene is a masterpiece of political satire, from start to finish, but the relevant part here is this sequence:

In case you missed the salient points: Arthur claims he is king by divine providence, because he was given Excalibur by the Lady of the Lake. Dennis the peasant protests this waterlogged method of determination, mentioning ponds, watery tarts and a moistened... well, I hope you get the idea about where this is going.

Meanwhile, in 537AD, Wessex, as the mist swirls around them:

"It is a bit damp," complains a shiny silver Aziraphale.

Yes, Excalibur would be a bit damp after it emerged from the Lake. (vidavalor! Get your mind out of the gutter! I'm trying to have a serious discussion here! Please! And I wasn't even going to go anywhere near what the sword in the stone is really meant to be referring to...it's not even relevant to the discussion at hand, I swear! Well, there is going to be sexual relations mentioned but - oh, never mind...)

Right. Where were we. Lets leave those super-clean elite pretendy knights to swim off through the swirling mist back to their dry homes to write and file reports to head office, along with Patsy and the hired Igors, and Dennis can keep playing in his lovely muddy filth after he finishes protesting being repressed by the divinely-deluded Arthur. I've got a bit more to say about what Aziraphale and Crowley might represent here later but you need some more context first, so lets move on. I just needed to show you the first bit so you can see the Arthurian theme stretches across both S1 and S2, and will likely appear in S3 as well. More about that towards the end.

Ah, before I forget...another ref from the Holy Grail we need to cover:

This GIF, unfortunately, doesn't have the full exchange between the peasants, which is this:

P1: "Who's that then?" P2: "I don't know. Must be a king." P1: "How can you tell?" P2: "Because he doesn't have any shit on him."

Ah. Er. OH!

Have you made the connection?

Who have I been emphasizing as being unusually clean in their Arthurian setting? That's right, Aziraphale and Crowley.

What's this implying? That they are royalty. Celestial royalty. Maybe not kings, but how about princes? You know how we've been discussing whether Crowley was a once at least an Archangel, and there is even a hint that he was a fallen prince of Heaven given during the replay of Gabriel's trial? (Not the prince, but a prince - a seraphim) And that Aziraphale may have once been Raphael, and may be again in the future? Once and future royalty. To me it adds weight to the past discussion, and helps to explain the assumed authority expressed in these two scenes here: On the left, Aziraphale takes control inside the book shop as the angels and demons argue who is going to punish Gabriel and Beelzebub (finally found it after several months!) and on the right, Crowley is shouting at the assembling demons in the street that they are "out of order."

Onward, Patsy. (I hope you're still with me.)

1941, the Blitz part 2, minisode.

We've found Excalibur! On to Camelot!

[Edit note: I've added a few GIFs and screen shots into the sequence of parallels above because I was thinking over a few things since I posted and felt this actually sat better. To try and explain, as they don't exactly match as I would like, in the Holy Grail movie, King Arthur and the knights he has gathered rock up at the foot of Camelot and gaze up in awe at it. "Camelot!" Arthur declares to the party. "Camelot!" Galahad echoes in excitement. And a third "Camelot!" comes from Lancelot. What do we get in GO? Aziraphale leaps out of the Bentley (Crowley's black horse) and declares "The theater! Sophocles! Shakespeare!" I swear, if you put the two side by side, they would match. It's not just a reminder of how much time Aziraphale has seen pass by, or that we are seeing a tragedy play out. But damn it, I could so just see Aziraphale attending a Sophocles performance in Athens back in the day...]

Camelot was King Arthur's castle and home of his court. In S2 of GO the Windmill Theater is established as our court of Camelot where our 1941 Blitz-era Arthurian drama is to play out, involving Furfur and the zombies.

Yes, poor old Furfur. Two's company, three's a crowd, as they say. Now we know we're in Camelot, we need to be reminded of the central tragedy of the Arthurian story, that ultimately led to the golden kingdom's fall. Lady Guinevere, Arthur's queen, famously loved Sir Lancelot, and the two were passionate lovers. It was essentially a love-triangle at the top, with Arthur being jilted, but he wouldn't/couldn't discard his queen. Where do we see this playing out in 1941?

Furfur, pleased with himself for catching an angel and a demon in the act of consorting together (with the help of the zombies,) barges into the backstage dressing room, and confronts the lovers with their crime. But who is playing who in the Arthurian love triangle? I would say Furfur is clearly caught in the role of Arthur here. Consider the following exchange:

FURFUR: Hmm, well, well, well… What have we here? AZIRAPHALE: Sorry, have we met? FURFUR: Oh, no, you never had the pleasure, but… we have, haven't we? CROWLEY: Have we? FURFUR: What do you mean "have we?" You know we have. We were in the same legion. Just before the Fall. Doing dubious battle on the plains of Heaven. Remember? CROWLEY: I remember going into battle, I don't remember being there with you. Sorry. FURFUR: I was right next to you. We did loads together. You use to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat. Anyway, whether you do or whether you don't, it doesn't matter. I'm here to inform you, as a representative of the Higher Powers of Hell, that you, Crowley, are in breach of the Infernal Code. Consulting and collaborating with an angel, Fell the Marvelous, aka… [opens book] Azirapalala. Azirapapap. Aziphapalala. AZIRAPHALE: [annoyed] Aziraphale

Furfur claims a past intimate relationship with Crowley, which Crowley spurns offhandedly. Crowley is playing Guinevere here, jilting Furfur/Arthur, which leaves the demon-smiting Aziraphale standing in for the handsome hero Lancelot (with his French connections, no less), and doesn't he make us weak at the knees when he drops his voice an octave in dominating disgust. (Is it suddenly getting hot in here...? Phew!)

Interestingly, looking back in S1 at 537AD Wessex, though, I would say that Crowley was Lancelot as the Black Knight, a role that Lancelot sometimes played in the legends, and Aziraphale would then be the fair maiden Guinevere. It certainly plays into Crowley's long term role of playing the knight who comes to the rescue of Aziraphale's princess in distress. Excalibur was no where in sight, perhaps still beneath the waters of the lake. Nor Arthur. Perhaps it was still too early in the story then...

I had originally suggested in my very first post that Furfur was given a stag as his demon avatar because he was wearing horns for being cuckolded by Crowley. But I wasn't quite thinking about it in context with the Arthurian legend! The stag is also often associated with royalty, plus while wandering around the medieval bestiary website that someone linked to, it interestingly notes that the enemy of the snake is the stag and the stork (Shax's avatar.) Ah ha!

So how can we extrapolate this knowledge into a possible appearance of the Arthurian theme in S3?

Will we see the love triangle of Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot come back into play and cause more chaos? I'm wondering if it might have something to do with the Fall.

Or will our lovers bring down a divinely-appointed ruler via their committed behind-the-back defiance of expected propriety?

Will Excalibur appear from beneath the waters, perhaps in another form, to declare a new king?

Could it even be a combination Jesus/Arthur, King of the World, returned? And they turn out to be a very naughty boy, disappearing into the night clubs of Times Square, New York, and that's how they lose him? (Social media viral sensation, anyone?)

I wouldn't be half-surprised if Greasy Johnson's name turns out to be Arthur, actually.

And no, I haven't forgotten that Adam's dad was named Arthur as well.

Bring on S3!

**Bonus**

If you've made it this far and you're thinking:

Let me leave you with this last connection.

In the back stage change room, remember Furfur delivers these lines:

FURFUR: What do you mean "have we?" You know we have. We were in the same legion. Just before the Fall. Doing dubious battle on the plains of Heaven. Remember?

On the first level, he is referring the Great War in the Good Omens AU.

On the second level, Furfur is paraphrasing Milton's Paradise Lost.

On a third level, I can (and will in a future meta) connect this back to the training initiative paintball fight at Tadfield Manor in S1.

And even deeper on a fourth level, if you do know the Holy Grail movie well, you'll remember there is an odd little subplot in it, that infers that the whole King Arthur and his knights thing is merely a full-on violent cosplay that is murderously rampaging across the countryside in the present day with the police in hot pursuit. It's a strange juxtaposition between reality and dream, and you aren't quite sure what it is real or not. The ending is bizarrely and abruptly surreal as the two story lines collide in the heat of battle, as the police turn up and arrest the combatants. A bit like this:

[sboochi]

okay but Arthur and Merlin canonically existed in the GO universe! we know this! in the S1 historical montage, during the medieval vignette, Aziraphale describes himself as "Sir Aziraphale of the Table Round". they hung out!

There's gonna be a flashback in part 4, so things will make *a bit* more sense!

Aziraphale remembers Arthur ofc, he asks Crowley if it's really him because he's so shocked!

Arthur, on the other hand, is having the weirdest day of his life and isn't used to Aziraphale in modern clothes! Give him a minute and he'll recognize him too lol

(And!! Canonically Crowley was the Black Knight, who did appear in Merlin, so that's another thing to unpack soon!)

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 24

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 24: The Middle Ages were called the Dark Ages because there were too many knights.

Wessex wasn't really that great a place to be fomenting, honestly, but after getting kicked out of Ireland after that whole debacle with Pádraig, he was in a bit of a pickle. He needed some results and fast, preferably kind of close to Ireland so he could tell Hell he was working on figuring out the "no snakes or demons allowed" thing but far enough away that they didn't expect him to do something stupid like storm Rí Laighín. And King Arthur was doing half his work for him, annexing kingdoms left right and centre and leaving disillusioned and dispossessed sons of nobility in his wake. Whole island of out-of-work knights, just needing some direction.

He took up as The Black Knight mostly because there were already a few Black Knights out there making trouble and he could recruit them and pretend it was all his idea. Before the year was out, there were fifteen Black Knights under him, popping up to harry the Pricks of the Round Table whenever they bothered leaving their pretty little walled city of Camelot. It worked out pretty well for everybody. Crowley miraculously kept the knights and their squires and servants fed and watered and sheltered, the knights were organized so they mostly hit pricks who really deserved it (a twofer for Crowley: making the rich feel pain so they curse God and making a life of crime and sin appealing by smoothing off the rough edges), and relatively few farmers or whatnot got caught in the middle and could be tempted with something else later.

And then Sir Aziraphale showed up, and Crowley realized that any souls he'd secured for Hell had probably been counterbalanced by the angel's securing souls for Heaven. Just lucky they hadn't met at the points of each other's swords, and wasn't that a sobering thought. He didn't even like carrying a sword, mostly had a human do it rather than touch the blasted thing himself. He certainly didn't want to do a replay of the War nearly 5,000 years later with someone he actually pretty well liked and respected. And he definitely didn't want to do it soggy, foggy, damned damp old Wessex.

And it wasn't even like they were having fun, like they did sometimes; their jobs weren't all bad, but they were still jobs. Crowley wasn't exactly a fan of sleeping in fields, and neither was Aziraphale. Crowley might be good at logistics and politics and could wrangle a group of rich angry fratboys and their households, but that didn't mean this was his idea of a good time, and he knew Aziraphale hated the kind of court politicking, child-rearing assignment he was probably on right now. He'd probably volunteered to go hunt The Black Knight just to get away from some wailing kid for five whole minutes.

Really, it would be in their best interest if they called it even and went and took a holiday in Vichèi or something instead. Anything would be better than setting up a tent in yet another sodding field.

But, well. The angel had gone and called him the wrong name, and he'd gone and offended the angel's sense of propriety, and look where they'd landed. Camping in another bloody field, the both of them, and not even the same one. If Crowley'd played it better, maybe they'd at least be trading work gossip and tips on where to find decent lager now that the Romans had gone and taken all their wine with them. But nope: instead he had to babysit some Medieval frat boys, not that any of them would know what the Heaven he was talking about if he called them that, and try to convince them not to launch an attack on Sir Aziraphale in the morning on the strength of "because I said so." Yippee.

Crowley really did not like fomenting. Or Wessex.

[quillomens]

Book Omens Week Day 3: Historical

I'm catching up since I thought the week was cancelled. Haha. I THINK I'll have day 4 up today, though! It continues from this one.

Summary: The first time they got married was only a few hundred years after the Garden. It wouldn't be the last.

HERE ON AO3

Over the next few days, watch out for: ancient Sumer! The Round Table! Leo da Vinci! Piracy! Two Very Lazy Immortal Beings! Paperwork!

----

Sixty years and some change after their second unfortunate meeting, Crowley happened upon the angel while prowling a sort of  cave-village puttering along in Mesopotamia.   

He didn’t panic this time.  He’d been sent to the settlement because an angel was there, so he hadn’t been quite so startled this time around.  He also slinked up slowly, watching (and tongue twitching beyond his lips every now and then), which helped his reptile brain report, “This is that Eastern Gate fellow.”   

So instead of panic and discorporation, Crowley was able to slide up, smooth and cool, and say, “How’s it going there, oh, Angel of the Lord?” 

The angel jumped, which was very gratifying.  About time an angel was nervous about him.  

The angel’s currently dark brows drew together before his expression cleared.  “Crawly?” he asked, and then, before Crowley could correct him, “No, it’s Crowley, isn’t it?” 

Crowley was gratified again.  “It is.  And you’re Aziraphale.”  He tried to sound casual.  Maybe he’d asked around.  Maybe he just knew things.   

Aziraphale turned his eyes back to the foul-smelling but good natured mortals as they went about their business.  The two of them were visible, not not…noticeable.  Nothing interesting here, please go on about you pre-historical business.  “It’s been some time.” 

“’Bout 60 years.”  Crowley had spent nine of them doing punishment paperwork and other, less enjoyable, things for so quickly wasting a corporation.  But the last fifty hadn’t been so bad, back on earth.  He was finding Earth highly preferable to hell, and didn’t understand why most demons bellyached about assignments on the first floor (so to speak). “What brings you here?  Spreading a little miracle or three?  Light of grace and all that good stuff?” 

“Observing, mostly.  I’m rather between assignments at the moment.”  The angel glanced over.  “You?” 

“Oh, sent here to kill you, I reckon.” 

One brow rose alone this time.  The gray-blue eyes were a little incongruous with his current coloring, but who was Crowley to point out glass houses?  “Oh?  And how are you planning to do that?  Another epic bout of clumsiness.” 

Crowley probably should have scowled, but found himself grinning instead.  Not bad! Most angels were painfully boring.  ….At that, so were most demons.  “Maybe.  Want to stand near a handy fire for me?”   

The angel made a show of considering it before settling on, “No, I think not.  I don’t need any more paperwork or nasty notes.” 

Crowley would (pretend to) kill for a nasty note.  Bet there were no boils and papercuts in heaven.  

“Ah, well.  Guess I’ll just slink downstairs then.” 

Crowley didn’t move.  They kept standing there, side by side.   

“Did you know,” Aziraphale said after several minutes of oddly comfortable silence, “that they’ve started little pairing ceremonies?” 

Crowley shot him a look.  “What now?” 

“Well, you know how some of the animals pair off for life?  And others don’t?  Humans are similar, yes?  Some pair off, like Adam and Eve, others don’t.” 

“Rrrrright.”  Crowley scratched at a flea trying to set up house in the long fall of his hair.  “Hell’s undecided on that one.  Seems to fit with a sort of heavenly chastity on one side, but the way two people can make each other miserable?  Full marks.” 

The angel gave him a censorious frown.  Crowley spread his hands with demonic innocence, as if to say, “Above my pay grade, good sir.”   

Had the movement been invented and imbued with meaning at the time, Aziraphale would have rolled his eyes.  As it was, he just said, “Well, be that as it may, they’ve created this little ritual for it, and it’s rather sweet.” 

A minor miracle caused every flea in the vicinity to go up in tiny flames.  

“Ritual?  What, skulls and blood and feet of newts?”  Crowley tried to look pleased, though the whole concept actually made him a bit queasy.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that “feather of demon” or “eye of serpent” would one day be popular for these “little rituals” of the humans’.   

“No, no, nothing so disturbing.  Just a sort of speech and a promise.”   

“Oh.”  Crowley wrinkled his nose.  He was fond of a good nose wrinkle these days.  Couldn’t pull that off as a snake.  “Sounds boring.” 

“It’s sweet!” Aziraphale argued.  He looked decidedly put-out, as if the opinion of this semi-random demon was of some importance in his angelic brain.  Then he clearly came to a decision and, without so much as a “Mary may I?” wrapped his hand about Crowley’s wrist and pulled him into the bustle of humanity. 

Crowley should have protested, maybe popped a little hellfire, but he was so surprised by being touched without an intent to cause pain (it had been so long) that he shamedly just let his enemy drag him on.  

They stopped in front of a woman – older, heavy set, stripes on her stomach and gray in her hair.  She wore little in the heat, but she had several necklaces of shell and bone, painted with red clay, that were unique among the humans.  Someone of importance, then?   

She clearly recognized the angel and greeted him with a smile and a fair approximation of his name.   

“Hello,” he said back, his smile warm but his voice officious.  “Lovely to see you again.”   

“It was only this morning,” she said, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes that Crowley wholeheartedly approved of.  “I’m not so old as all that.” 

“Of course not!  You’re a lovely young woman.”  Crowley shot Aziraphale a look.  He thought perhaps the angel was being sincere.  Still figuring out aging, was he?   

The human chuckled warmly. “Now then, young charmer, what do you require my help with?”  

“I would like you to show the pairing ceremony,” Aziraphale motioned to Crowley, “to my,” he stopped a moment, frowning.  Crowley watched with some amusement. My enemy was hardly the way to introduce someone without causing suspicion.  After a beat, he settled on, “companion.” 

The human’s eyebrows rose in a riot of wrinkles.  “The pairing ceremony?” 

“Yes.  I told him it’s quite lovely, but he has his doubts.” 

Dark eyes glanced between them.  “I hardly think it is appropriate to perform the ceremony for someone who isn’t certain.” 

“Oh, I’m certain enough,” Crowley drawled.  Clearly it existed, since they were talking about it. 

The old woman eyed them again, gaze assessing.  Then she raised her shoulders dismissively – he'd seen that a few times now, wasn’t entirely certain what it meant to them – clapped her chapped hands, and said, “Might as well!” in a cheerful voice.  

Aziraphale gave Crowley a smug look.  Crowley stared at him, annoyingly unblinking.   

(Later, Crowley would miss those early days, when his eyes hardly merited comment.  The woman had looked at them, of course, but passed on readily.) 

The woman motioned to a young man, who jogged off to gather a few supplies.  She chatted easily with Aziraphale as they waited, and offered a handful of figs to them both.  Aziraphale took them immediately.  Crowley was more hesitant, but gave in when Aziraphale bit into one with clear enjoyment.   

And here he thought angels didn’t eat. 

They were so delicious (he hadn’t properly had figs; they were sweeter than he  that the boy was painting a stripe of clay on his forehead before he realized they’d started.   

“Wait-” he started to say, but the woman shushed him and Aziraphale sent him a look for interrupting.  He fell silent, listening to the simple words.  The gist was all about support – looking out for the other person, working to keep the other person safe, providing comfort. 

It was lovely, though he was loathe to admit it.  A nice idea, having someone to depend on and spend time with.  He couldn’t remember much about heaven, but hell certainly wasn’t known for its comradery.   Shame it wasn’t real- 

The woman took his hand and placed it on top of the angel’s.   

Crowley jumped as if burned – expecting, really, to be burned, that was the rumor – and saw Aziraphale flinch as well.  But. 

Nothing happened. 

The skin was unusually soft, given angels didn’t work, but beyond that, it was just a hand.   

Their eyes met briefly, yellow to gray. 

“And may you protect each other until the end of your days,” the woman said, taking their two hands in her strong, leathery ones.   

Crowley saw, in Aziraphale’s eyes, the moment the angel realized what he had. 

This was not a demonstration. 

It was a ceremony. 

He couldn’t help it.  Crowley threw his head back and laughed, startling the woman, the demon, and several people in the vicinity with the underlying hiss he hadn’t learned to control yet.  It was an inhuman laugh, and an inhuman smile, and the angel frowned at him, but he couldn’t help it.  It wasn’t real, not truly.  They weren’t human, and human ceremonies didn’t mean anything in heaven or hell, but- 

An angel bound to a demon just to make a point? 

Hilarious! 

Aziraphale sighed deeply, the old woman barked a laugh (“It’s unusual, but some people react like this,” she assured Aziraphale gently as he looked like he might throw up if his corporation would let him), and Crowley grinned, broad and toothy and wild.   

(As long as hell didn’t know, as long as hell never found out, he should be just fine.) 

@book-omens-week

[greeneyed-thestral]

I, Sir Aziraphale of the Table Round, am here to speak to the Black Knight.

[snarky-synesthete]

New Fic: "A Warrior in a Garden"

Ineffable Arthuriana? A post-Black Knight episode? Crowley starring as Morgana la Fey? King Arthur getting his crusading ass absolutely rocked? Incredibly beautiful art for the final chapter? What more do y'all want??

The first three chapters (of four) are up and ready right now - the final chapter drops tomorrow!

Thank you so much, @smollsmule, for letting me reverse-bang your delicious art. I'll reverse-bang anything you make, just say the word.

[sobbingeternally]

Ineffable Inktober Day 8- "Silver"

Sir Aziraphale of the Round Table, awarded Sainthood by the church for his multitude of miraculous victories. Champion of the downtrodden and of the fallen. Mysteriously disappeared in battle in 539AD after stepping up to challenge the Black Knight and free the region from his tyrrany. Neither were seen again.

[theroundbartable]

Can't believe I haven't done this before.

Good omens | BBC Merlin crossover.

If you ever wanted to know how Aziraphale became a knight.

[aziraphales-library]

I adore your page! I'm looking for some good jealousy or over protective fics ❤️❤️

We have LOADS of fics on the tags featured in the masterpost: #jealous aziraphale, #jealous crowley, #protective aziraphale, and #protective crowley. Remember to check those first!! Here are more to add to the collections...

Mine by Zakani_Donovan (T)

Crowley is a bit protective. And jealous. Always has been, always will be. Aziraphale had liked it, to a certain extent. This time, however, she found it a bit ridiculous. Once she caught on, that is.

House of Horrors by Sivan325 (T)

Crowley will not admit it, but it was Anathema fault in a way, she dared him. He took Aziraphale with him.

Occult and Ethereal Pine Trees by NebulaEyes (T)

Aziraphale thought that perhaps things would change after the Apocalypse, and he so desperately wanted to tell Crowley his feelings, but didn't know how. Just when he was about to simply speak, a woman came in, and it appeared that she and Crowley had a history. Crowley goes off to help her, and Aziraphale misunderstands. How does his bookshop help him understand just how much he had misunderstood the situation?

Le Morte D’Aziraphale by Ultramarine316 (T)

During his time with King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, Aziraphale winds up in an awkward situation and asks for Crowley’s help extricating himself, but the other Knights don’t respond well to The Black Knight suddenly appearing and carrying off their (Fair Damsel) Sir Aziraphale. Hijinks ensue.

Curious about the unknown by IneffableCliche (G)

Aziraphale finds some interesting books and Crowley insists a lot that he must read them. Erotic literature will be the key that leads the angel to sin.

Like Sleep To The Freezing by WaitingToBeBroken (T)

A decade after their fight, Crowley wakes up to a new world and a different angel. What is he to do but don his human disguise and follow him to a certain discreet gentlemen's club? And if Aziraphale doesn't seem to recognise him, well, that's all for the better, isn't it?

He was going to leave after ensuring his angel was fine.

- Mod D

[myfairstarlight]

For Every Question Why - Chapter 5

AO3 Link. Previous / Next.

Rated: T Chapter length: 4k Chapter summary:

A demon gets a proposal of some sort and takes a few decades before coming around to it.

*all additional notes on ao3.

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Unknown.

Truth be told, God has lost the plot a long time ago now. The Cherubim was only meant to get demoted to Principality after refusing to participate in the War, mind — almost — wiped clean to become the proper soldier She needed them to be. They were never meant to Fall, however. The Seraphim, on the other hand, was the one supposed to Fall… but Aziraphale crossed paths with Lucifer first and everything went away from Her plans as soon as the former Prince of Heaven’s eyes settled upon the mischievous and tactful cherub. She could not understand why, or how and She could not bloody grab the two offending angels in the middle of the War to right things up the way She originally intended.

Besides, She got curious. Terrible thing She is, curious. Free Will hadn’t been invented just yet, only a seed had started to grow within Lucifer, and only him, and yet, two other angels defied Her, albeit unconsciously. She wonders if what She had planned would still happen, just… a bit tweaked because of these two.

To Her greatest entertainment, the Ineffable Plan has become truly ineffable, out of Her reach, out in the wild. The end goal shall remain the same, She surmises, but the journey there? Oh! She is quite eager to witness it all, see when Her gentlest demon and Her brightest angel will finally properly meet under shades of grey.

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Kingdom Of Wessex. 537 AD

Astrophel treads through the damp land, grumbling under his breath. He usually does not resort to extremes, but he truly, deeply hates this place and the fact Hell specifically told him he needed to be a knight for this assignment. The armours are such a pain to walk and move in! Especially when you can't see much.

(Well, the demon does wonder how humans even see with those helmets anyhow, not that it changes a lot for him. He wonders if he should take credit for this in his next report…)

He’d rather indulge in the comfortable dresses the women are currently wearing, all loose tunics and intricate embroidery that feels heavenly under his fingertips but no! He has to foment dissent in damp lands! What a waste of—

“Behold, Dark Knight! For I am Sir Janiel of the Round Table seeking an audience with thee!”

Astrophel groans. “Janiel, dear, really?”

A muffled giggle answers him before he hears the distinct sound of a helmet’s visor getting lifted. When the angel speaks again, it is clearer, “Oh, cheer up starlight.”

“There is hardly anything to be cheery about.”

“I’m personally having fun! Did not know swordfighting was so entertaining!” the angel gushes, in childlike wonder, promptly followed by the sound of his blade slashing through the air.

Astrophel smiles wryly. He supposes it can be entertaining when the battle they fight in has nothing to do with them and the swords cannot permanently kill them. He doesn’t recall what Janiel did during the War, but he reckons, as a Seraphim with a status almost rivalling Archangels, he must have been away from the battlefield most of the time.

“I can hear that,” he says. “So you’re the positive influence I’m supposed to crush.”

“And you’re the evil I’m supposed to thwart, maybe I should have guessed.”

“Perhaps we should have.”

Since there does not seem to be anyone else in their vicinity, Astrophel snaps his fingers, getting rid of the heavy armour around him so he can freely stretch. He hears Janiel take a sharp intake of breath before the angel speaks up again:

“So we're just cancelling each other out, all our efforts for nothing.”

“At least you sounded like you're having fun, I am not,” Astrophel huffs. “Although it has been entertaining to defeat some of King Arthur’s arrogant knights who thought they’d easily get to me because of my blindness.”

“So Sir Leon and Percival’s injuries were your doing.”

Astrophel grins innocently. “I can neither confirm nor deny, they never introduced themselves, just were so convinced they could take down the Dark Knight, the poor dears. I suppose I’ve been doing terrific work around here, after all, not that this is my usual method.”

The demon feels the worry and guilt increase around Janiel’s aura at his words.

“Oh, dear, do not feel bad, I made sure I didn’t induce life-altering injuries.” He may even have healed them, just a bit, he then proceeded to purposely hurt himself so he could heal it back so Hell does not question the miracle. “Nothing your angelic presence cannot soothe.”

“This is the first time our Assignments overlap, don't they?” Janiel points out.

“Well—” Astrophel was ready to argue except he couldn't. Janiel is right, they might have circled each other since the beginning of time, but they never had missions that required them to directly face each other. A part of him wonders how this has not happened sooner, however.

“What if…” The angel’s voice is much closer now, a hand nudging Astrophel’s arm. “What if… we do nothing and report to our sides these assignments as a draw?”

“... Are you suggesting we lie?”

“You say that like it’d be the first time? It wouldn’t necessarily be lying anyway, it’s the truth, we just cancel each other out so what’s the point? See it like a mutual arrangement. It’s not like they’re checking anyway and it means less paperwork for us too.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable!” Janiel repeats with offence. “How is that different from you asking me to take credit for something you did?”

Astrophel falters. The angel has a point, somewhat. Not completely, though.

“It’s… risky.”

“Any riskier than what we’ve already done?”

“Yes! You’re suggesting we willingly collaborate!”

“Which, again, we’ve already done before.”

“No, before either Heaven and Hell were collaborating or our assignments just happened to be in the same area but did not oppose each other so we’d end up accidentally helping each other. We’ve never been put against each other, they’re obviously expecting something.”

“Accidentally!?” Janiel huffs, apparently deciding to focus on that part of the argument. “Oh, that’s brilliant! When it benefits you it’s all good but I suggest it and suddenly it’s too dangerous!”

“Because what you suggest puts you in danger!” Astrophel argues. “I asked you to take credit for me saving lives I shouldn’t have, that’s of no consequence to you but if they ever hear you’re willingly letting a demon get away with things—”

“That’s assuming they’d ever find out, they never did about the Bet, you know,” Janiel interrupts and the demon wants to scream at his carelessness. “They don’t check, they don’t care, they won’t know if I don’t want them to. You're overthinking this.”

Astrophel sighs. Still so confident, so arrogant, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little endeared by Janiel’s stubbornness and faith that everything would turn out alright. It makes him wonder once more, are there truly no consequences for a Seraphim disobeying orders or is Janiel just an expert at getting away? Astrophel got promoted and yet, in exchange with grander power, it feels like Beelzebub and Satan are a more prominent presence breathing down his neck now.

“If you can’t see how truly dangerous what you are proposing is, then I shall keep saying no until you see sense,” Astrophel answers eventually and almost chokes on Janiel’s disappointment and frustration.

“You’re really annoying sometimes.”

“Thank you.” The demon even bows. “Now if you don’t mind, dear, the Dark Knight is expected someplace else. This conversation never happened!”

“Right,” Janiel grunts.

“Right!”

Astrophel hurries away before he feels compelled to stay back because he’s well aware Janiel never easily takes no for an answer just as Astrophel always struggles to not say yes.

But this is too important. They grew too reckless, too comfortable. Heaven and Hell are finally pitting them against each other and Hell is somehow aware of his… closeness to Janiel in some way. Perhaps it’s because he was made a soldier, but Astrophel can’t understand why Janiel cannot see this blatant warning test for what it is.

So if keeping a safe distance, for now, is needed to be sure the angel doesn’t get into trouble and until Janiel gets over that stupid idea of an arrangement the way he did about changing his name, then so be it.

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Constantinople. 547 AD.

While Astrophel is on friendly terms with Death Incarnate, he cannot say the same for Pestilence, which is perhaps peculiar considering how the two are so intricately linked. The demon just has never had to supervise plagues since they were led by Heaven before compared to Death following him almost wherever he goes. The Plagues of Egypt were another rare instance in which Heaven and Hell put their differences at rest to collaborate but Astrophel (or Janiel, for that matter) were not assigned to that particular event, no, Lord Beelzebub had the utmost honour of taking care of that particular request and they were pretty proud of it as well. Pestilence truly rose roughly around the same time, originally a Heaven creation, now a Hellspawn, and their power amplified for the assignment.

So here he now stands, in Constantinople when he should still be in Wessex — following King Arthur’s death, chaos spread across the land as Anglo-Saxons, helped by the demon’s influence, tried to take over now that the leader of the biggest line of defence is gone, and that is without mentioning the rise of witches hidden across the kingdoms, slowly but surely making their mark, to Hell’s delight, but for now Astrophel had to leave all this and trust his knights — and Janiel — to handle the situation for this new assignment was a direct request from Mara.

It should only be a few days, she said, then he can go back to causing trouble in Britannia. He’s not sure why she even needs some help, demons don’t ask for help, demons have too much pride for that, and yet. But oh well, it allows him a change of scenery, away from stuffy armours he traded for ample tunics to survive under the harsh sun of Constantinople. And he has more questions for the other demon anyway.

It turns out, she has some of her own.

“Playing babysitter to Pestilence is a bore,” she says as both demons hover over the city, letting Pestilence do their work. “I get they’re still sorta young so we need to keep a close eye on them but really, they know what they’re doing, they don’t need supervision.”

“Mm. So why request my presence? Pestilence sure does not need two demons over their shoulder. Hopefully, they did not see me or they’d probably take offence and throw a tantrum.”

Mara lets out a long breath. Annoyance pulses darkly around her. “Turns out Heaven finally caught up and is sending more than one angel on Earth like us. One keeps popping up where I’m assigned and she’s a bitch.”

Ever since the Jesus debacle, Hell decided to send other demons to Earth. They would not be permanent agents the way Astrophel is, Mara, for example, is still primarily in the Torture Department but is sent out to the surface for assignments specifically regarding human suffering and once the work is done, she must go back to Hell until the next available mission. Astrophel would serve as a supervisor if needed although very few demons have asked for his help or expertise. Again, demons are prideful things.

He did tell Janiel about that new development somewhere in between Caligula and Pompeii, most probably while very drunk as well.

“Only took them a few centuries to realise,” Astrophel muses, he wonders briefly how he’s never encountered any of them before, though. Judging by Mara's tone, this has been going on for at least a few decades. “If you’re asking for Hellfire—”

“Hah, I wish, can’t start a war too early though, would spoil the fun,” the other demon says, disappointed. “No, I was wondering how you did it— fool an angel into trusting you.”

“Huh?”

“That Seraphim, remember? Lord Beelzebub had requested I survey him. I was so impressed by how tightly you control him to the point he purposely messes up assignments so you have less work to do! And he genuinely thinks he can make you an angel again. I’d laugh at his naivety if I wasn’t baffled you managed that. So what’s the secret?”

Never before has Astrophel wished this hard that he could stop time to his whim like a certain angel so that he can gather his thoughts and be prepared because he has trouble grasping what Mara just dumped on him as if it was nothing. Is that how Hell sees his… acquaintance with Janiel? As if Astrophel is the one leading the march? Is that why he got a promotion? That can't be right, over the years he's specifically followed Janiel's lead, as an excuse to… as an excuse to still do good and, well, because he still worried over the angel whose free spirit should have landed him in hot waters — or rather, fires of a Hellish kind — and yet.

He cools his face into an annoyed expression as he huffs. “You do not want to know, dear, or you end up with a clingy angel who keeps babbling about righteous deeds in your ear.”

The disgust growing inside Mara is so blatant that it takes everything in Astrophel to not grimace at the stench of it.

“Yeah, maybe I’m better off just annoying her until she runs back to Heaven. Well, I called you here for nothing.”

Astrophel hums. Quite the contrary, this has been a productive discussion, just not the one he expected to have.

So. He is aware he probably should not take a fellow demon’s word as the gospel of truth but everything does line up with what he knows — Mara was tasked to spy on Janiel, reported to Beelzebub, Beelzebub told the findings to Satan, shortly after, the whole Jesus thing happened and despite playing right into Heaven’s plan, Astrophel still managed to tempt Judas despite Janiel always hovering near, confirming their suspicion and subsequently promoted Astrophel, believing it the best course of action in this battle against Heaven. After all, if the adversary already lets their guard down, why not take extra precautions on your side and take advantage? It is a basic tactic.

Of course, Hell has no way of knowing Astrophel embellished a lot of his reports, but the conclusions drawn from the facts as presented line up perfectly. But if Hell noticed… It is only a matter of time until Heaven does too. And he doesn’t think Janiel is aware of that if Mara’s observations are to be believed. Seriously, purposely messing up assignments to not inconvenience him? Did the angel think him incapable? Have their assignments overlapped before and Janiel consciously sabotaged himself, Astrophel just was not aware of it until today?

What is that angel thinking?

Astrophel holds in a sigh, he can already hear his angel’s voice in his head squealing with triumph as he makes a decision. It would make it easier to keep an eye on the angel and would reduce the paperwork on both sides. Janiel has always known how to get what he wants from him anyway.

“Janiel is my problem, by the way. Be sure to tell the others if they ever see him not to engage with him and report back to me immediately using my crow. Less paperwork for everyone.”

“Your crow,” Mara repeats. “I thought your animal was an owl?”

“Claimed another bird with the promotion,” he explains. “You got a billion moths.”

“Mm. Fair.” Jealousy and admiration lace her words. “Don’t you worry though, no other demon ever gets close to that loud angel. He smites any demon on sight, except you. You’re his special project.”

“Well, I must make him mine as well, then.”

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Kingdom of Mercia. 584 AD.

Astrophel is enjoying the banquet in honour of King Creoda when she feels the familiar essence of a certain angel slivering to her side, a slender hand finding its place on her waist.

“Lady Aster,” the soft feminine voice purrs in her ear as she feels curls tickling the side of her face. It seems Janiel is already a little tipsy. “Pretty name, starlight.”

“Astrophel can be a mouthful,” she answers, handing over a cup of wine, out of habit. “Fancy meeting you here, Lady Jane.”

She can hear the smile on the other’s face as the angel grabs the offered cup then links their arms together and says, “Mine is less creative I admit. King Creoda mispronounced Janiel and I went along with it.”

“It is better than Bildad, I’ll give you that. Where did that even come from? I never asked.”

Janiel giggles. She giggles. Oh, she truly is drunk. “I may have stolen the identity of one of Job’s friends. He had just left the land at the time. At least here it’s just me, myself and I.”

Astrophel hums and takes a moment to appreciate the proximity, perhaps not very subtly tilting her head so she can get a better whiff of the angel’s sulphur-free scent. It is amusing how much more carefree with affection they both are when they decide to embody a woman’s trait, she’s not sure what to take from it. It is less amusing to realise they also are ignoring their last argument.

Like they are wont to do.

“Mm. New assignment, then?” she asks.

The angel takes a long sip. “Yup,” she confirms, popping that last letter. “Same thing that I did with Arthur, just decided another approach. The battles have calmed down so I figured my blessings would be better used at the castle this time. What about you?”

It sounds almost casual, but there is an edge to her voice, apprehension, and worry.

“I’m off duty, actually, I wanted to talk to you,” Astrophel replies, and Janiel drinks her wine wrong because she splutters and starts coughing. “Are you alright dear?”

The coughing continues for a couple of moments, forcing Astrophel to untangle their arms so she can avoid her wine being spilt.

“Tiptop,” comes the strangled answer when Janiel manages to find a moment of respite. “You want to talk?”

Her tone has turned suspicious, cautious, she probably caught on fast about what the demon wants to talk about. Astrophel also suspects she miracled herself sober.

“Stop time for me once again darling, would you?”

Almost immediately, the chatter all around them ceases, allowing Astrophel to concentrate on Janiel’s shallow breathing.

“I meant to ask, don’t you have to report to Heaven whenever you do that?”

“You're asking now?” Janiel almost laughs. “But no, I don't have to. It isn't exactly a miracle, so it isn't included in those. Call it a Seraphim perk. Anyway, you were saying?”

“About that Arrangement—” She marks a pause at Janiel’s subtle intake of breath, a hopeful thing. “I changed my mind.”

“Really? … What changed?”

I learned you’re being a reckless idiot alone so I might as well join you so if they ever find out they can blame me for being a bad influence, not you. “I reconsidered… You’re right, the extra effort and paperwork feels pointless.” She leans against the table, putting down her cup. “But that means from now on, we tell each other everything.”

“Sure,” Janiel agrees easily, perhaps too easily, even.

Astrophel frowns. “... Just like that?”

“I mean, I was already doing that.”

“You really should worry a bit more about the implications here.”

“Eh, you worry enough for the both of us.” Astrophel could strangle her for that. It is probably meant as a joke but it rings a bit too close to the truth. “If this is about you being a spy during the War, I know, by the way.”

The demon had suspected. “You truly have that much faith that I won't take advantage of this Arrangement to benefit my side?”

“Of course, I trust you.”

That uncomfortable and warm feeling deep within her soul makes an appearance again and Astrophel squirms, crossing her arms below her breasts with a shuddering breath.

“Just like you trust me to not report to Heaven,” the angel continues, her slender hand landing on the demon’s shoulder. Astrophel shivers as the coldness of her rings grazes her skin. “This isn’t about either of our sides, it’s about you, and I, and enjoying our time here on Earth.”

“For as long as it stands,” Astrophel reminds her, despite herself. Their time is limited, before the next War, after all.

Janiel does not say anything in response. Instead, she snaps her fingers and life resumes its course around them. Astrophel straightens up, taking it as her cue that the conversation is over but Janiel’s hand remains on her shoulder, keeping her in place.

“So, what now, starlight?” Before Astrophel can reply with her usual words, Janiel continues, “You’re not going to leave after this agreement, are you?”

“Jani— Jane!”

Her protest falls on deaf ears as Janiel drags her away from the banquet table, away from the crowd. Astrophel finds herself in a garden instead, wherein the angel gently guides her near a pond.

As they sit on the grass, Janiel suddenly decides to lay on her lap, her face chasing the demon's hands until the latter takes the hint and starts carefully braiding her curls. The angel's hair feels, well, heavenly between her damned fingers, silky to the touch with the warmth of Her Grace.

Astrophel smiles despite herself. This is the closest to Heaven she could ever be again, and somehow, she's content with that. Keeping Janiel close and safe is all she needs.