The twins talk. Bombshells drop.


"And this is the library!" Alfred swept out his arm to gesture at the room. "My reading nook is over there, right by the window. I'm running out of space for my books, though, so Ivan's gonna get the carpenter to make some more shelves at some point—"

Matthew zoned out as his twin prattled on about the pros and cons of barrister versus modular bookshelves. Alfred had insisted on taking Matthew on a tour of the castle after breakfast, and it was approaching early afternoon, at this point. They had made their way around half of Ivan's castle—which was huge—by Matthew's generous estimate. The castle was really very beautiful, with tastefully decorated rooms and a pleasing, subtle sense of order.

Matthew was getting too hungry to appreciate how organized and well-run Braginsky's castle was, though. Alfred and he had done a lot of walking, and fruit wasn't all that filling.

As if on cue, his stomach growled. The violet-eyed angel blushed. Alfred blinked.

"Oh, it's lunchtime, isn't it? We can head down to the kitchens next, and ask Toris for something. Feliks will probably be there, too; you don't know him, but he was one of my guys way back when. Ivan actually bought him from a brothel, I was so pissed when I found out, but it ended up working out! Who'd have thought, right? Haha. Oh, and we have to say hi to Tino! He'll be out at the shooting range at this time of day, and after we chat with Tino, we need to go to the pond and the sunflower garden and the greenhouse Ivan built for me, there might be strawberries ready—"

The library door creaked open. Matthew shivered at the sudden gust of chilly air.

"Hey, Ivan! How was the talk with Francis?"

The demon closed the library door behind him. "Gilbert will be arriving tomorrow evening. Matvey will be going with him."

Matthew froze. "What? General Beilschmidt?" He had seen the crimson-eyed commander before, on the battlefield. Matthew had been at a distance—Arthur was usually the one who dealt with the close combat. Still, the scene had engraved itself in Matthew's memory with haunting persistence: the Dark general dripping—saturated—with angelic blood, laughing as he swung his sword like a madman.

To be leaving the relative safety of Braginsky's castle, for thatgods, Matthew was going to belong to Beilschmidt, wasn't he?

A wave of horror washed over Matthew; it soured into confusion, then resentment, when he saw his twin fling his arms around Braginsky. Alfred was happy at Matthew's impending enslavement?

"Amazing!" Alfred leaned up to give Ivan a grateful kiss on the cheek. "That's a great idea, thank you so much, Vanya."

Ivan lightly ruffled Alfred's hair. "Ah, one more thing before I go." He directed his attention to Matthew. "I do not want Fredka in anyone's bed but mine. Therefore, you will be keeping Gilbert company when he arrives, Matvey."

Ivan frowned in concern when the honey blond immediately blanched. Alfred's brother looked about a second from keeling over.

"Cool! Gil is awesome! He's really nice, you'll see tomorrow, Mattie," Alfred chirruped, oblivious to his twin's distress. "And Gil knows what he's doing. He'll make you feel good."

"Feel good— I—" Matthew sputtered, face whiter than paper, when he finally gained control of his faculties again. How in Heaven was it possible for someone to miss the point so completely? Alfred never failed to astound him, even after almost three hundred years. "Alfred, why am I sleeping with Gilbert at all? I've seen him maybe twice my whole life. We haven't exchanged a single word!"

Alfred nibbled at his lip. Oof, yeah, Matthew didn't know anything about life in the Underworld. "Well," the golden blond started slowly, "the demons have these ancient codes of hospitality. One of them mandates that hosts offer their honored guests a companion for the evening. It's why I was given to Ivan in Francis' palace."

"What? That's rape. Sanctioned rape! And it's just a part of demon culture? People are okay with this? Damn it, Alfred, this is the kind of shit we were trying to stop by going to war with the Underworld—"

"Since the king abides by the rules, we all must," Ivan interjected sharply before Alfred could open his mouth to reply. It was best if his consort did not spend any time recollecting his earlier days at the castle. "Do not dwell on it, Matvey. It will be over before you know it." Ivan smiled thinly. "Who knows? You may find it enjoyable."

"You bet your ass Mattie's gonna enjoy it." Alfred glared at Ivan. "Gilbert's not colder than an icicle, and he can actually show some self-restraint, unlike someone. He never broke four headboards in less than two weeks. In fact, he fixed the bed when it started squeaking, once, and he taught me really cool German battle cries to scream instead of his name—"

The door slammed shut so forcefully that the hinges visibly rattled.

"Huh. Why'd Ivan leave like that? He didn't look very happy," Alfred commented, tone mild as he brushed snow off of his shoulder. "Was it something I said?"

"Alfred," Matthew sighed. "You're a fucking idiot." The honey blond shook his head and slumped to the ground in a dead faint.


"Ugh…"

A finger jabbed his cheek. "Psst, are you up?"

Matthew cracked open his eyes. Alfred was sitting next to him on a pillow, a fluffy cat on his lap.

The violet-eyed angel put a hand to his throbbing skull. "What happened?"

"You fainted! Like one of those damsels in Artie's fairy tales, haha. You hit your head, but not too hard. I had to ask some of the guards to help me carry you here, 'cause you're kinda heavy, Matt. Have you been putting on weight?"

"What? No!" Matthew huffed. Was Alfred calling him fat? "I'm the same as I've always been. Where are we, anyway?" Matthew peered curiously around the room, which was filled with pillows and cushions of all shapes and sizes. He experimentally squished the pillow underneath him. It sank briefly before bouncing up again.

Alfred shrugged. "The Orgy Room. Francis unironically demands that every castle has one. No orgies have been held here as far as I know, but it's really comfy!"

"…The Orgy Room. Is sex the only thing demons think about?" Matthew gingerly set down the pillow he was about to toss away from him.

"Yeah, pretty much." Alfred petted the cat in his lap. "I think that's why things are so backwards in the Underworld. The tech is sooo outdated, and the infrastructure sucks, too, but also I think it's just 'cause Francis is king, Francis doesn't really care about that kind of thing, he's more into—"

"Alfred," Matthew interrupted his brother's ramblings as he suddenly remembered why he had fainted in the first place. "Am I going to be raped tomorrow?"

"Well, yes, but no. It's not rape if you want it, so you just have to want it. Consent is important! Ivan taught me that." Alfred smiled brightly.

Matthew stared at his twin.

"Al, you're crazy," he said finally.

Alfred's smile cracked. "Don't make any trouble, Matt. Please? Pretty please with cherries on top? I'm trying to keep you from getting hurt, and having Ivan be punished for not adhering to the demonic codes isn't gonna help with that." His smile returned. This time, there was a dangerous edge to the grin.

Matthew swallowed. Alfred was warning him. He rarely saw this side of his brother, the manipulative, calculating side, but when it came out—

"Alfred," he hissed. "Exactly what kind of fucked up game are you playing here? With Braginsky? And what is my role in it? Why am I here, Alfred?"

The other angel settled deeper into a cushion, a petulant expression on his face as he played with the Persian. "This is Blini," Alfred announced at length, holding up a pink-toed paw in a wave.

"Blini says hi." The cat meowed indignantly. Don't use me as a distraction, Servant.

"Alfred F. Jones, drop the act and spill."

The former Light general pursed his lips. He was quiet for so long that Matthew almost gave up on an answer. "Why didn't you deploy it?"

Matthew lurched back in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"The missile. Our last resort. Why didn't you launch it?"

"I—it wasn't ready."

"Don't lie to me, Williams," Alfred snarled. He jerked his head up, eyes blazing. "It was ready. I checked. Everything was in place. You built everything according to the schematics I gave you. Great job, by the way. The only thing it needed was the activation command. Your fingerprint."

"…"

"We decided that we'd use it if we needed to." Alfred shoved Blini away from his legs and stood up, ignoring the cat's yowl of protest. "We needed to. So why the fuck didn't you launch it? We talked about it, Matt. We discussed it with Arthur and ran through all of the scenarios. Straight at Ivan's castle, because Francis would just go on with the war if we took out either of the Beilschmidts or Antonio, he's too close to them. Francis would wage a personal vendetta against Heaven if one of them died, but he'd probably surrender if Ivan were hit. Ivan is too valuable for his loss to be brushed over, and most of the demon soldiers are here, anyway. It was the perfect plan," Alfred spat, trembling with fury. "You promised. You fucking promised you'd do it. You said we could trust you to do what needed to be done, so why didn't you—"

"BECAUSE YOU WERE HERE, YOU BASTARD!" Matthew shouted. "The spies told me that you were here at Braginsky's castle, and I couldn't fucking bomb my own gods-damn brother, no matter how much of a sociopathic asshole he is—"

"It was your duty to, you had one task to carry out for Heaven, Matthew, one fucking order to execute—"

A timid knock sounded at the door.

As Matthew panted for breath after his outburst, Alfred straightened up and shot a brilliant grin at the brunet who poked his head in the room. "Hey, Toris, what can I do you for?"

The Head Housekeeper's brow furrowed. "Is everything all right? Master Braginsky asked me to check in. I heard yelling…"

"Never better! Just a little spat between brothers. Nothing to worry about. No need to mention it to Ivan." He winked.

"…If you say so, Alfred." Toris shuffled in place. "Master Braginsky wanted me to inform you that dinner will be in an hour. Your brother is welcome."

"Got it. Can you get some food from the human world for Matt? I think he wants something other than fruit. Maybe something French?"

"Ah, of course. Takeout from your and Master Braginsky's favorite café?"

"That'd be awesome! Thanks so much, dude!" Alfred gave Toris a thumbs-up.

Toris smiled, looking considerably more relaxed. "A pleasure, Alfred," he said warmly. "Apologies for interrupting your conversation." The demon stepped back out into the hallway.

"…"

Alfred carded a hand through his hair at the soft thump of the door. "That was close." He adjusted the sash around his waist. "I don't think Toris overheard anything, but…"

"Hold on a sec, Al. Favorite café?"

The golden blond flopped face-down onto a large cushion. "It's nothing," he said, muffled by the velvet. "Ivan and I sometimes eat out together, is all."

"What is going on between you two? Do you like Ivan, Alfred?"

Alfred rolled over. "Did you know that elite demons like Ivan and Gil don't marry, Mattie? They take consorts. Equals."

"And you're Ivan's consort."

Alfred laughed. "Supposedly. He says." The angel's gaze was fixated on the ceiling. "But I'm really just a warm body to hold in bed. A fucktoy for him to relieve stress." His voice was bitter.

Matthew chewed his lower lip, contemplating. Alfred was smart—really, really smart. The stuff he did with technology had practically revolutionized Heaven, and Alfred had a knack for numbers and languages. But the gods had been fair: they had compensated by making Alfred dumber than a rock in certain crucial aspects, one of which Matthew suspected he was currently witnessing.

Alfred liked machines. He was good with them; mindful of them in a way that he never was of people. It was entirely possible that Alfred had missed some things. "I don't know, Al. I mean, the way he looks at you…"

The skepticism was clear as day on Alfred's face. "I've lived with the guy for two years, Mattie. I think I know what I'm talking about."

"Alfred…"

The blue-eyed blond was no longer listening. "We lost," he muttered dully, tracing the patterns on the ceiling. "And I'm not dead. So this is the rest of my life now. I'm a traitor. I deserve this."

Silent tears soaked the fabric beneath the angel's cheeks.