Broken Wings – By Lady Kirkland
He didn't know any better, following the trail of silken white feathers. He may have been an adult but his curiosity was one of a child's, a never-ending curiosity. He bounced through the forest, picking up each feather and thinking to himself 'These'll make a nice gift if I can use them properly…'
"These look like a swan's feathers…" he said to himself quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence of the forest around him. Soon though he began to see thick, viscous blobs of a red substance decorating the feathers and, just as he went to pick the newest feather up there was a scream of agony from somewhere further into the forest. Any normal person would have bolted and run for safety, but not him. Not Alfred 'The Hero' Jones. He looked up, sapphire eyes wide as he ran towards the source of the scream while following the white feathers in the process.
'Oh God, oh God!' the American thought to himself in a state of panic, seeing puddles of blood and drag-marks of blood staining the green grass all around him. No doubt there had been a fight or something. Soon he burst into a clearing and watched in awe, fear and almost rage at the scene unfolding before him. Three Demons, all of them with their raven's wings flared and their horns glowing a crimson red as they laughed at the limp and broken figure in the middle of them. Each Demon took it in turns to kick and claw and bite and punch the figure that lay before them on the blood-stained ground, each movement one that caused agony and pain to erupt across the victim's body. Alfred's eyes were already wide but they went wider when he caught a glimpse of the victim. Two, silken and soft white wings lay broken and covered in blood while a boy was crying and sobbing in agony. An Angel. All of them looked up when Alfred yelled at the Demons to stop, taking out his revolver and shooting at them until they hissed and disappeared back into the maw of Hell. The Angel still lay sobbing and crying into the ground, his wings twisted at sickening angles and lay limp at his sides, there were bruises and cuts and gashes all over his being, his legs and arms being more abused than anywhere else. His white suit was ripped almost to shreds and his bright blonde hair was matted with blood.
Alfred slowly approached the Angel, fear and wonder in his eyes at seeing one.
"Are… Are you… okay?" he said shakily, kneeling down next to the Angel and causing him to flinch. Slowly, when he was sure Alfred was not a risk, the Angel shook his head.
"Can I help you then…?" Alfred asked, hesitantly placing a hand onto the Angel's shoulder, making the Angel recoil away in agony.
"N…. No…." the Angel replied, his voice quiet and his accent clearly British. He sounded familiar, Alfred thought, too familiar.
"C'mon, please let me help you…" Alfred all but begged.
"F… Fine… H… Human…." The Angel said, forcing himself to sit up and only causing him more pain. Alfred was quick to help the Angel and sat him up carefully, minding where the broken wings were. The Angel kept his head bowed, concealing his face as Alfred carefully used his shirt to bandage the wings up and using bark strips as splints to steady the broken bones.
"What's your name?" Alfred said gently, wincing when the Angel hissed in pain.
"A… Arthur…" he answered slowly, hoping Alfred wouldn't recognise him.
"Well… I'm Alfred." Alfred replied, finishing bandaging Arthur up and standing, wiping the blood off his hands, "There… Just don't go flying…"
"You seem very calm, Alfred… About seeing me attacked by Demons…" Arthur said, standing too but still he kept his face concealed and his head bowed.
"Well… I guess there was just no time to panic…" Alfred mumbled before changing the subject slightly, "So who were those Demon-dudes?"
"Their names where Francis, Gilbert and Antonio. Three of the worst Demons an Angel could ever encounter…" Arthur said softly, rubbing a bruise on his arm absently.
"Oh… They sound familiar…" Alfred muttered, "Anywho, why don't you show your face? I wanna see what you look like…" Alfred said quietly. Arthur sighed, knowing how Alfred could pester him and slowly raised his head. Alfred's eyes widened to a crazily-wide level,
"A-Arthur?!" he said, stepping back at realising that this Angel was indeed his friend, "N-No way! Y-You're an Angel!?" he cried in disbelief as his mind slotted the Demons' names into place. Arthur sighed and nodded, a large cut on his cheek and his forehead bleeding badly. Alfred was speechless, he could only stand there and watch as Arthur stepped away from the American, trying to keep both their sanity intact.
"B.. But.. W... What...?!" Alfred said, sinking to his knees as he tried to come to terms with Arthur being an Angel. Arthur slowly approached, his wings dragging along the ground.
"Alfred, just calm down..." Arthur said softly, kneeling slowly despite the wrenching agony that burned across his being, and set a hand on Alfred's shoulder. Alfred slowly looked up at Arthur, his eyes wide and shining with fear and wonder at the same time.
"Y-You're an Angel..." he said numbly, "You... Are an Angel..." he started to laugh, "That's it! I knew it! I've gone mad!" he stood and laughed more, turning away and dropping his revolver to the ground. Suddenly he turned back to Arthur and, with serious eyes, he said, "Please tell me I'm mad."
"You know you aren't." Arthur replied simply, slowly standing and was caught as his legs gave out. Alfred caught him quickly, holding Arthur close.
"My God..." Alfred muttered under his breath, running one hand gently through the blood-stained feathers of one of Arthur's wings, "Ok, you aren't in a decent condition to be going off by yourself." he said, carefully picking Arthur up and carrying him back to his Jeep.
'This isn't happening...' he thought, his heart pounding, 'Arthur, the guy that practically hates everyone, is an Angel. And Francis, Gilbert and Antonio are Demons. What. The. Hell.' Alfred gently set Arthur in the passenger seat of the Jeep, draping a blanket over his shoulders and soon driving off.
"Where are you taking me?" Arthur asked quietly, arching his back as his wings folded against his back despite the pain involved in doing so.
"My home. You can't go off by yourself cos you're only gonna be in danger of being attacked again." Alfred replied. Silence settled over the American and Englishman as the sun began to set.
Three hours passed and Arthur had slipped into a peaceful dream, one where he was flying free over the City of London and completely unhindered. Alfred kept driving, his mind still processing the information that A) Arthur was an Angel and B) three of his friends were Demons. Minutes went by and soon Alfred pulled up outside his house, getting out and carefully picking Arthur up. Approaching the front door, he knocked sharply with his foot for he knew his brother, Mattie, would be home. Sure enough Mattie came to answer the door, the young Canadian's eyes going wide at seeing first the state of Arthur and second, the broken wings. Alfred nodded, muttering a "He's hurt. Move it." before Mattie stood aside and led the way up to the spare room in the house. Alfred was gentle for once and lay Arthur on his side on the spare bed as Mattie ran off to get better bandages and disinfectants.
Moments later Mattie came back upstairs, holding a First Aid kit in his shaking hands. "A-Alfred! I h-have the s-stuff!" he said, laying the box on the bed as he set to work quickly, cleaning up Arthur's wounds and re-bandaging his wings with better splints to keep them in place. The whole evening was a blur as Alfred and Mattie worked through the night to keep Arthur alive, all throughout it Arthur being unconscious or asleep.
The next morning Alfred and Mattie were asleep and curled up against the bed while Arthur lay on it, his wings draped over the edge of the bed. Arthur shifted ever so slightly and that instantly woke the brothers up, Alfred sitting up and Mattie following seconds after.
"He's wakin' up..." Alfred said softly as he told Mattie to go and make some tea for the Briton. Arthur soon enough woke up and forced himself to sit up, only to collapse back down again. Alfred was automatically beside him and helping him to sit up as Mattie came back in with a cup of tea for him.
"Here..." Mattie said softly, pushing the cup into Arthur's hands. Arthur nodded slightly and sipped at the tea, his wings still against his back as he drank steadily. All of them sat in silence as Arthur finished his tea, handing the cup back to Mattie with a quiet "Thank you..."
A few more moments of silence passed until Alfred spoke next.
"I think... maybe we should call your brothers..." he said quietly, wincing as Arthur's head snapped up with a glare.
"Absolutely not!" he half-shouted, clearly angry at the suggestion.
"Why?! You need help and we can't provide it!"
"Because my own brothers, given the chance, would leave me for dead!"
"Like Hell they would!"
"They would!" the argument continued for a while until Mattie, sweet innocent little Mattie who barely raised his voice, shouted for them to shut up.
"JUST STOP IT!" he yelled, standing and rubbing his temples. The bickering men stopped arguing suddenly, their eyes wide at Mattie shouting.
"Mattie.. Calm down dude..." Alfred said, resting a hand on his brother's shoulder. Mattie nodded, taking a deep breath before speaking again.
"We're going to call your brothers, Arthur, ok? We'll call in the family..." Mattie said calmly. This time Arthur agreed, nodding slightly before being forced to sit down.
'They were calling in the family? Everyone? They'd need a bigger house to deal with an inevitable fight then in that case.' Arthur thought almost bitterly, his wings twitching as he could only sit and wait.