Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ And He Will Be Known As The Angel Of The Bottomless Pit ❯ And He Will Be Known As The Angel Of The Bottomless Pit ( One-Shot )

The sound of the bell echoed throughout the castle grounds, and before he opened his eyes he knew what was coming next. He opened his eyes to a dirty brick wall in front of him, and the scratches on the wall that had served as a calendar up until an eternity ago. He had stopped marking the days when he realized that it didn't really matter what day it was - he was never going to leave this place, ever. He rolled over onto his back, ignoring the protests of the flimsy cot. He closed his eyes, despite the insistent sound of the bell, and traveled back in time to a place that existed only in his memories.

 

“Shh, shhhh.. They'll hear us!” she half-whispered, half-giggled.

 

They were huddled behind a column near the palace garden and he had bumped against the wall just hard enough to knock loose a small stone. There were soldiers everywhere, news of an attack against the palace on everyone's lips. It was raining, the water poured down in buckets and they were both soaked. But although the sun wasn't shining, it was warm and the rain felt comforting and soothing.

 

The clanking footsteps eventually disappeared and he poked his head around the wall. No one was in the courtyard any more, and as he led her to a bench haloed in shining rain he noticed everything felt just right.

 

The bell continued ringing, and he could hear their footsteps - quick, they were running - along the brick path until his door burst open and his face appeared, followed by half a dozen soldiers. It had the face, body and appearance of a human, but only he knew what lay behind that kind face and warm smile - the mind of a demon.

 

“It's time, let's go.” He said, motioning to the door.

 

He said nothing, having learned long before that words were useless; they did nothing, served no purpose. Standing up, he stalked past him, not bothering to take the sword that was offered to him. Every time they did the same thing, and every time he refused the blade presented to him. He didn't need a weapon; he was the weapon.

 

He soon caught up to him, and walked alongside him, barely keeping up with his powerful strides. It infuriated him that he didn't say a word, but he knew that if he opened his mouth he would be even more furious. They soon reached the door at the end of his hallway, the only one there, and he turned to him.

 

“There's nearly 1000 of them, and my best magician can't even take down half. You know what to do.”

 

He said nothing and descended down the spiral staircase leading from his prison, that man following close behind. They walked in silence; the only sounds were the clanks and groans of the soldiers' armor and their weapons.

 

Outside was bright and sunny and everything he looked forwards to when he was allowed outside. He turned his face upwards, not caring if the warm rays blinded him. A wave of lazy nostalgia washed over him and he found himself back in his comforting memories.

 

They were lying on the grass, the green green grass, lazing under brilliant sunshine and the cloudless sky. No words were spoken; they didn't have anything to say. On days like these, where they could sit and do nothing, no words were necessary.

 

His hand found hers and that was all the moving he was going to do today. The day was young but the sunshine was warm, and it kept him pressed to the warm earth, and he found he couldn't move, no matter how much he told himself he was going to get up.

 

He never thought days like these would end. As a small breeze began to blow, he still didn't move, instead he closed his eyes and felt sleep enfolding him. Dreams of her and their first meeting filled his head; he could remember it so clearly…

 

He had met her in the courtyard on a winter day, nearly five years before he would leave her. He had been experimenting with his powers and had sent a rock flying into the small wall beside where she poked her head out from her watching place. He had frozen, terrified of what her reaction would be, but instead he saw her eyes widen in fascination. As she cautiously started towards him, he felt like a wild beast, slightly bent over the rock pile, and she was small and tiny and moving cautiously towards him. She smiled, and he had never since seen anything so beautiful. Then she asked him a question no one had ever asked him before. He had always been “you”, “him” or “that boy”, a freak without a name, but now -

 

“What is your name?”

 

Someone shoved him and yelled something at him. He turned, murder flashing in his eyes and the offender found themselves being propelled backwards into the castle wall. He turned his face to the sky again but all he saw was a dark grey cloud, no trace of the sun present, no faint glow or silver lining.

 

Giving in to the orders being barked at him - after all, wasn't that the reason he was here in the first place? - He followed a nameless soldier to the main gates of the castle. He could see three mages on the castle ledge, balls of raw power in their hand, and he could already hear the screams of the dying on the other side of the castle wall. He felt his hands tingling and his mind wandering and he was back in that horribly familiar place.

 

His whole body tingled with instinct, to run, to hide, to flee. He was surrounded on all sides by one mass of angry shadowed faces, all screaming accusations. He shivered from the cold night - or was it fear? He couldn't tell.

 

Someone shoved him and he tumbled forwards into the snow, his hands going numb and his fear spiking. A dark figure appeared in front of him and he looked up, expecting to see the end. He stood in front of him, bible in hand and triumph in his eyes. Curses and prayers shot at him from all sides and then suddenly it was quiet. He raised his hand, and in it was a crucifix.

 

“Take this.” He commanded, thrusting it forwards.

 

He stayed as he was, kneeling in the snow. He felt the snow soak through the cheap material of his pants and suddenly he wanted, more than ever, to be far far away from this place.

 

“Take it and you will be forgiven.” He said.

 

Looking up at him, he felt incredibly inferior and he knew he couldn't win against this man. He found himself thinking what this man could do to him, how he could destroy his life with one word. One word, that was all it took to turn an entire village - that up until this point, had been his caring family - against him and all he had. He could have sworn there was a smile on his lips when he uttered the next word shattered the silence and sealed his fate.

 

“Witch!” He cried, turning everything he had ever known upon him.

 

He stopped suddenly, and it was suddenly so obvious to him. Slowly he turned, gazing at the soldier barking orders and insults at him. The soldier backed up a bit and that spurred him on. They were afraid of him. He looked up with rebellion in his eyes and anger in his heart and the soldiers nearest to him flew violently backwards, thrown by unseen hands into the foundation of the ledge supporting the mages and they fell to the ground.

 

Suddenly he became the enemy and as he shouted orders for his captivity or death, he felt himself smiling insanely, drunk with power and freedom. He could beat these people, and do whatever he wanted to do. He felt the pain of regret again, he could have done this earlier, and none of this pain, his or his family's, would have been necessary.

 

He slithered around him, his hissing voice whispering of death and destruction. He glared straight ahead and flexed his hands uselessly against the voice that held him. He couldn't use his powers with his hands tied, if he released energy it would go into the floor and be wasted, useless. Like a mouse cornered by a snake, he could do nothing but wait for his doom.

 

“So, how about it? Your precious little family-” he spat the word out as if it gave his mouth a bad taste. “-will be safe, and you will be safe as well.”

 

“But I'll be separated-”

 

“Doesn't matter.” He sneered mockingly, cutting him off. “They'll be safe, and isn't that what a good father and husband always wants for his family? Or are you so much of an unholy demon that-”

 

“I'm not-”

 

“You are. An evil, unholy demon spawn and you can deny it all you want, but it's true. These unholy powers are what put you in this place and now they can be what save you - and your family - if you let them. Or do you wish to watch them burn, and you can follow after?”

 

“No! I'll do it.” He said, a sickening feeling gathering in his stomach. He had never asked for these powers, he had been born this way, abandoned by his parents, and tossed into a life of pain and suffering. But then she had come along and he knew there was more to this life he led. He couldn't condemn the only person who had treated him with kindness to a fate she didn't deserve.

 

“Swear on your family's safety that you will obey the royal family, and the royal family only.” He had that sinister smile on his face. He was enjoying this.

 

“…I swear.”

 

“Good.” He said, slithering over to the chair and pulling out a knife.

 

For a moment his stomach turned but he only reached behind him and cut the ropes holding his hands together.

 

Looking back now, it was so stupid. He could have easily killed him and escaped with his family, but the thought didn't occur to him then, and he regretted it every moment of every day. He supposed he went along with it to ensure his family's safety, after all, he loved his wife more than anything and she had just given birth and he didn't want them to suffer. He usually dismissed it as an excuse, so now he didn't even know what the real reason was. It was all he could do to remember that day. He was old, but his appearance gave away all but twenty of his years.

 

Then the painful part came. He watched from inside his tower prison, which had been sealed by the mages to keep him from escaping. He watched her tell him something that made her eyes tear with pain and her arms clutch her baby tighter. He knew what he was telling them, and he knew that he was dead to her now, and his son would never know his father. He had that same expression on his that he wore when he began to tear his world apart, shred by shred.

 

He flung a hand towards the gates to the castle and they flung open, streams of soldiers flooding into the castle yards. He needed all the help he could get, he couldn't take all these people by himself, even with his powers. He grabbed a sword off a fallen soldier and braced himself for an attack. Sensing someone behind him, he whirled and the fight began.

 

He didn't know how long it was, how long he spent killing these nameless people, but when it was all over, when all others had fallen, he was standing there. He assumed he thought he would come back now, that this was just a mistake or something, that's why he was standing there unprotected. He turned to him; sweat dripping off his forehead, power exhausted, and bloody sword in hand. As he walked towards him, he smiled crazily again and relished in the cries of protest falling from his lips. He looked pathetic, old and worn out, begging for mercy. He reached him, and in two seconds it was over, his head falling from his body onto the dirty, bloodstained ground.

 

He turned away from him and walked towards the castle gates with a crazy idea in his head. He was going to find them. He was going to find his wife and son and explain to them what had happened that day. Even though he would be as old as they were but look the same as he had nearly fifty years ago, he would find them and explain everything. And as he walked away from hell with a smile on his face, he knew he would find them somewhere. He had a lot of time.