Alfred shoved open the door of the suite in a daze and sank heavily into the chair nearest to the window ledge.

He had failed.

Mattie was going to die.

With a shuddering sigh, the angel buried his head in his arms. He had thought that the meeting was going well—the demons had initially seemed receptive to his ideas, and when he brought up the hidden entrance that led past the city walls, the other commanders had shown visible interest.

It was just—

"General," the officer addressed Ivan as if Alfred wasn't even there. "How do we know that your consort's information is reliable? With all due respect, sir, his past actions and allegiance make believing him difficult. He would have much to gain from giving us faulty intel. If this leads the troops into an ambush, the losses would be substantial."

Alfred turned to Ivan beseechingly. Alfred had been on the opposing side, still was, in a way. But what he said was all true! Was Ivan not going to back Alfred up, when he most needed it?

Ivan was silent. "I trust Alfred," he said at last, and the angel perked up. "But it is true that we have nothing to go off of but Alfred's word. This would be a gamble."

Alfred's eyes widened. "Ivan, please, I swear I'm not lying—"

"Enough, Alfred." Ivan didn't look at him.

"Then it is decided," the commander said smugly. "To avoid any unnecessary risk, we will be proceeding with the original plan…"

Alfred had blanked out after that. The demons had discussed strategy further, but the only thing Alfred could think about was how he had utterly failed Mattie. Matt was going to die, and it was all Alfred's fault. Even though Ivan didn't want bloodshed—he had said—Mattie was going to die, anyway. When the meeting ended, he had left before Ivan could call him back.

Quietly, Alfred started to cry.

Something brushed against his hair. Alfred shook his head without looking up. He hadn't heard the door open, but Ivan could just fuck off, Alfred didn't want to talk to him—

Fur tickled his cheek.

Alfred raised his head with a soft sniffle. Blini was standing on the table. Her tail swished back and forth.

She meowed at him, intelligent blue eyes probing.

Alfred wiped at the tears dripping down his chin with the back of his hand. "H-hey, girl," he hiccuped. "Sorry, I'm kind of a mess right now, it's not really a good time—"

She swatted at him with her tail and padded closer, until she was pressed up against the underside of his jaw. The Persian nuzzled Alfred and meowed again. Shut up.

"Oh, Blini, sweetheart, you're so good to me," Alfred murmured as he picked up the cat. Cradling her to his chest, he stroked the scarf-shaped patch around her neck, and her belly rumbled with a purr. "You're right, I shouldn't give up. There's still a way for me to save Matt. There has to be, I know it…"


Standing in the hallway, a few paces away from the master suite, Ivan mentally steeled himself for what would meet him inside. Alfred must be so upset with him right now.

Ivan should have lent his consort his support at the meeting, he knew, but the officer's concerns had been warranted, and although Ivan would give up anything to see the angel happy, Ivan could not pay the price for his sentimentality with his men's lives. As general, he had an obligation to ensure the safety of the soldiers under his command, for the sake of their families, the mothers and wives and children they left behind when they joined Ivan on the battlefield.

Surely, Alfred would understand.

Bracing himself, Ivan nudged open the door to the suite.

Alfred was nowhere to be seen.

Forehead creased in worry, Ivan walked to the settee. Did the angel run away somewhere to stew in his anger? Was Alfred in the human world? He couldn't have run off…

Ivan glanced at the clock. It was five. If there was still no sign of the golden blond by six, when they usually had dinner together, Ivan would investigate.


Ivan swirled his spoon in the okroshka—Toris had brought it in a few minutes ago—in a futile attempt to relieve his anxiety. It was six, and Alfred really should be here by now—

There was the sound of something tapping against glass in the bedroom, followed by the creak of doors opening. Alfred stepped out of the bedroom with Blini in his arms.

Ivan relaxed. Alfred hadn't run away, after all. "Fredka, I understand that things didn't go how you wished it to go, and you have my—"

"—Ivan, please," Alfred interrupted. He dipped his head to say something to the Persian that Ivan didn't hear, then set her down on the floor. Blini immediately sauntered out of the room, tail raised.

Alfred carded a hand through his hair. "Um, can we talk?"

Ivan stiffened. Those words always heralded trouble. "If you want," he replied reluctantly.

Alfred looked as uncomfortable as Ivan felt. "I think this would be easier if we were sitting on the settee." He made no sign to move.

"…Of course." Ivan sat down gingerly on the settee. Was this the end, then? Was Alfred going to leave him? Alfred was right to be disappointed in Ivan; what kind of person would abandon his own consort in his time of need? Alfred was going to go to the human world, or return to Heaven, and Ivan would never see Alfred's beautiful smile again, or luxuriate in the warmth of his embraces—

"So I thought about it a lot," Alfred started, perching on the arm of the settee on the other side. Ivan snapped to attention. "And I bounced the idea off of Blini, and she bit me, but then she purred a little, so I think she approved, and I don't really know what else to do at this point, but I can't just give up—" Alfred picked at the velvet fabric. "Sorry, I'm rambling. It's just—ugh." Alfred kicked his legs back and forth. "This is really big, and I should be sure about it but I'm not, and I just have to get it out there before I lose my nerve. Ivan," Alfred turned to the demon, eyes almost iridescent in the twilight glow, "if I give you my halo, will my brother be saved?"

Ivan's breath caught. "What?" He whispered. What was Alfred saying? Was Alfred suggesting

He had heard of how, after gifting his halo to Francis, Arthur was unable to refuse the king's requests; had known—had been grateful, even, on those long winter evenings in the tundra, for how the green-eyed angel's unwavering obedience, unwilling though it was, transformed the tides of war for the Dark forces. Ivan wasn't certain of the precise magical mechanisms involved, but wasn't Alfred essentially offering Ivan his free will on a silver platter?

"Would your officers believe me if I give you my halo? Tell me," Alfred demanded, "would it save Matt?"

Ivan swallowed thickly. "I… It might work. I can make no promises, however."

The angel's pupils flashed white. "The problem is that you and the other demons don't trust me, right? If you have my halo, you can Compel me. I won't be able to lie. The Compel forces me to do whatever you want."

"…Alfred, do you understand what you are offering? The implications of such a decision? I do not know all of the details, but if you give me your halo, wouldn't you be giving up your freedom?"

"Yeah. I know." Squeezing his eyes shut, the former Light general hugged himself. "Ivan, baby, I'm grateful that you let me do what I want most of the time, but I haven't been really free since I was captured and brought to the Underworld. I don't want Mattie to die and I don't know what else I can do at this point."

Alfred met Ivan's stunned gaze. "…Will you hurt me?" A note of resignation crept into his tone. Whatever happened, it was for Mattie. He'd be fine with being hurt, for Mattie. Arthur had made the same sacrifice for Alfred, hadn't he? "Will you make me do things I don't want to do?"

"Of course not," Ivan said instantly. When was the last time his proud consort had sounded so fragile, so scared? "I will never hurt you, dorogoy. I promise." He gently stroked Alfred's wings. "I will always listen."

"All right." Nervously licking his lips, Alfred straightened up. "Take off my bracelets." He held out his hands. Ivan tapped on the golden bands; they expanded, and Ivan slid them off.

Releasing a shaky exhale, Alfred brought his hands over his head and began to chant in the ancient angelic language. Swirling mists of cerulean and gold collected, intensifying in color as Alfred's voice rose.

Ivan's eyes became as round as saucers when a glowing circlet—so bright that it hurt to look at—materialized in the shimmering cloud. Oh, but Alfred's halo was gorgeous. It was radiant, enrobed in pure light, and the sheer power it contained—waves of the divine magic buffeted Ivan's senses.

To be so close to the halo was overwhelming. The demon's survival instincts were telling him to run, to flee, to protect himself from this power that could so easily extinguish all that he was; a much greater part of Ivan was flooded with awe and delight, for it was Alfred's halo, Alfred, who was willing to give to Ivan everything of himself—

"Here," the former Light general plucked the circlet from its place and delivered it into Ivan's hands. "It can take whatever form you want." Although Alfred's voice was steady, his fingers, as they let go of the halo, were trembling so intensely that the warm metal was almost dropped into Ivan's hands.

The moment that Alfred's halo touched his bare skin, Ivan gasped. The halo was scorching. It should have burned him, but the demon felt no pain. Instead, it was as if something irresistible had called out to the core of Ivan's being, pleading to belong. Strands of his magic eagerly wrapped around the halo, unbidden.

A ring, Ivan thought, eyes shut in concentration. I want the halo to become a ring.

The fierce heat died down to a pleasant warmth as the golden circlet shrank in size. Above Alfred's head, tendrils of lavender and ice blue—the colors of Ivan's own magic—were weaving into the mist, around the faint shape of something the exact shape and dimensions of the precious treasure now in Ivan's possession.

"It's just a mirage," Alfred explained at seeing Ivan's frown of confusion. "The real halo is with you now."

Nodding, Ivan slid the simple band onto his ring finger. It was the natural—the only—place for the ring, a symbol of his devotion to Alfred, his beloved, his consort. All demons knew what it meant.

Alfred's expression was impassive as he watched the Dark general put the ring on his right hand. Huh, Alfred had thought that maybe, after two years, maybe Ivan would—

Well, it didn't matter. It wasn't like their relationship was romantic or anything. It was just a practical arrangement, a deal between the two of them, because Alfred had something that Ivan wanted and Ivan had something that Alfred wanted.

The aura surrounding the illusion-halo was vanishing. Alfred's duty was done. Heaven would lose the war, and Mattie would live, and Alfred would belong to his master forever. The angel shifted around on the settee, suddenly hit by the weight and force of what had just transpired.

Fuck.

"Um, can I have my bracelets again?" Alfred squirmed. If one more minute passed with his magic unrestrained, Alfred might do something that he'd really regret later, like pump Ivan full of lead. He'd hate to ruin the suite, and Blini probably would be spooked by the sound of gunfire. The whales wouldn't like it very much, either.

Ivan broke out of his reverie. "Ah, of course, lapochka." He carefully placed the enchanted jewelry back on Alfred's wrists, giving the inside of each wrist a tender kiss.

Alfred smiled wanly. Well, that was that. There was no taking things back. Ivan owned him now, every part of him, and Alfred could never go back to Heaven. He couldn't even leave Ivan, really.

Alfred… didn't want to think about it. Too much had happened already today, and Alfred was tired, bone-weary of making stupid decisions that weren't really his decisions to make in the first place. It wasn't great that all he had were two shitty options. At least now he'd be Mattie's hero. That is, if his brother wasn't so pissed off that Alfred sold out the rest of the angels to save Matt's life. And the other angels, gods—

Yeah, Alfred really didn't want to do any more thinking tonight. He just wanted to be taken care of and held and feel good, drown out the little voice in his head that told him how royally he had fucked up

Alfred dragged Ivan up and hooked his legs around the demon's waist. He pressed his lips against Ivan's. Ivan made a small sound of surprise, then reeled back.

The golden blond blinked. "What? Is something wrong?" Was Ivan not even going to fuck Alfred tonight?

Ivan looked disoriented. "No… It's just… very warm. I feel like there is warmth spreading out from inside me." Ivan's brow furrowed. "Is that normal?"

"Oh, that's just the bond." Alfred waved it away. Ivan had better fuck him now, before that dumb voice piped up again. "My halo is yours, so my magic and soul are yours, too. My magic tends to run hot. It won't hurt you."

Ivan was staring at Alfred with enormous, shining eyes. It was making Alfred feel awkward, how Ivan looked as if it were the middle of a particularly brutal winter and Alfred had just lit a fire in the fireplace. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I—Nothing," Ivan stuttered. He leaned forward and kissed Alfred—fucking finally—then, when they were both running low on air, broke away, panting.

"Do you want me, dorogoy?" Ivan had to check.

"Yeah, yeah."

Alfred's fingers were extraordinarily nimble as they divested Ivan of his clothes. Hastily moving them into the bedroom, Ivan gave a whimper of disbelief, of unimaginable relief, as he fell into Alfred's arms and the comfort of the angel's embrace. The scent of cardamom and apricots enveloped him, and the warmth flowing through his veins was so unfamiliar, so overwhelming, but so wonderful and right that it could have only come from Alfred. Alfred, who was bonded to Ivan, whose magic was now a part of Ivan—

As Alfred's pleasure merged with his own, Ivan's soul called out for joy. Alfred, his sunflower, his beautiful little sun, was his, his, his, and willingly

Ah, a tiny, wicked voice whispered in Ivan's mind. Not quite. Almost willingly. Alfred gave you his halo for his brother, no?