It's chapter two Mo Fos~ How you been holding up?

Nice response from one little prologue, at least I think. 7 reviews in a day~ I'm liking it :D

I think we're gonna be great friends...~ Oh what a jounry this is gonna be :D

You reviewers give me motivation, really you do~ So keep on doing your reviewing thang,

AFTER You read this first chapter. ;)

"Arthur. Angel of Britannia."

The voice resounded, ringing into his ears; calling his attention. He raised his head solemnly to meet the angel before him.

"Do you know why you are here before us?" Vash asked coldly.

"Yes."

"Your offence is clear to you?"

"It is."

To think only a while ago he had been looking through the water at Alfred's relieved face. He had just saved him from certain death. But now, only moments after he had been brought here, dragged by the others to court with them already knowing he had committed sin. He wished he was among the other residence of this peaceful realm above the other worlds that was supposedly the epitome of holy and sacred. He wished he was not the one standing in this lone spot, the center of attention. He prayed for nothing more that to be part of the on-looking eyes of his brethren, the eyes of untouched inner peace, the ones not being subject to the questioning and judgment of their superiors.

He had wandered off in the paradise that was his world and home, and wandering only brought him this fate. Toris had told him once that he should make sure of where he went, if he was careless only bad things would happen. Arthur never believed him; it was too peaceful; he was too at peace. Now that bad fate had befallen him, he realized he was right. The aspect of this place as a whole was something that every single inhabitant of it cherished more than almost anything; himself included. He truly loved this place and he loved his innocent existence. Although not as much as he loved Alfred. He didn't think he could have ended up this way in a place so pure.

He didn't plan to. Honest, he didn't.

But he couldn't help himself.

He just couldn't.

"Do you care to explain how this came about?" Archangel Emil asked. The Grand Council who was trying him at the moment was made up of the 7 Archangels, the higher up authority in this world and 'Father'. 'Father', or Romulus(though few referred to him as such) who was the head of the council and the lead over them all, was said to be the one The Creator worked through to create them all. Mother was also a big part in the society, but she did not attend such unfortunate things as this. Arthur as of late had begun to doubt such an ideal that their Creator worked through Father. But either way, the high-ranking angles' prestige and stature intimidated Arthur greatly. Though there were many other factors that could also be contributing to that feeling.

Arthur hesitated, if only for a moment before giving his answer. However that moment probably just ruined any chance for redemption. The Creator would most likely be merciful, but even though they were supposed to be holy creatures, his fellow angels held no mercy for him. It was a difference between humans and angels. Humans felt as they wished, angels had different standards, and Arthur failed to hold himself to them.

He shifted his gaze to those around him, his brothers endowed in white like himself. Bright glistening wings protruding elegantly from their shoulder blades, also like himself. Every angel's pride and joy was their wings. His own twitched in their folded position, as if to say they were as uncomfortable in this spot as he was. He then brought his eyes to the white clouds below their feet; he didn't want to look into the accusing gazes he was getting. He began to speak.

"I went to the fountain far that ways from where we are now, where we can gaze down to the Earth. I'm not sure why I decided to, perhaps I wanted to see what was going on down on Earth. I didn't have much else to do at that moment. I gazed on the happenings of a few, without much interest. They were just typical people, living their lives, going about their evenings."

"And then what did you do?"

"I fixed my eyes on the birth of a human boy."

"Why?"

Arthur began to wonder why he was being asked these questions when the council already knew all of the answers. Perhaps it was to make him uneasy, but that didn't seem likely, maybe for a reminder to the others? Maybe; they were scrutinizing him with unfound curiosity, an anomaly that shouldn't have happened; though the Archangels weren't much better in judgment.

"H-He interested me. I watched him for a while." A lie. He watched for a long time; as much as possible.

"What did you do after that?" More vague questions; they needn't be asked, but the accused blonde replied anyway.

"I...I went back every so often to watch him after that." Arthur kept his eyes trained on the ground; Vash's feet were suddenly quite interesting. Everything he was saying was a huge understatement. Arthur went back to the fountain every day, multiple times in fact. He watched Alfred as much as possible, taking in every detail and learning as much about him as the times went by. Whether he was just out for a walk or off doing something far more important, Arthur would watch from above.

"And then something happened to the young man. Did it not?"

"Yes. He was about to walk into a bank that was currently being robbed, as humans would put it, at gun-point." He said. The blonde was innocent to the whole situation. He didn't believe anything involving Alfred being killed was meant to happen. Not everything was pre-set, right? Even he himself was unsure of that.

"And then you sinned, did you not?"

"I did." He admitted. "I intervened and stopped him before the event." How he had managed to get Alfred to hear him at that time, he had no clue. Just like when Alfred could hear him singing to him when he was just a child. He didn't know he could have that much connection with him, even when they were supposedly worlds apart. He felt sick to his stomach knowing that if he hadn't done something he would be dead. He would almost wretch at the thought.

"Though it is a cruel way to go, the boy was to die was he not?" Arthur had a hard time answering this. He didn't want to admit that yes, he was meant to die. He was meant to die and come to the afterlife he had chosen through his life experience. But for some reason, Arthur couldn't stand to see him come so early. At the most he was 19 years old, not nearly old enough to be ready to die. He wanted Alfred to stay on Earth longer, fulfill his dreams. Because Arthur knew, there was no room for those kinds of things here.

"Yes." He said still averting his gaze slightly. However Vash did no such thing and trained his vision right on him, as did others; like Emil and Lukas.

"Yet you stopped this. You have disrupted the works of the worlds. Angels are not to intervene when it is someone's time."

"I know, I-"

"Quiet, sinner. You saved him because you harbored feelings. Feelings you are forbidden to have." Arthur closed his eyes and breathed in; the presence of the archangels' gazes was weighing on him immensely. The resentment in Vash's voice was more than Arthur could endure.

He had never meant to harbor feelings for a human. It just happened. Perhaps it was his fault, perhaps it wasn't. He didn't mean any disruption in the ways things worked. He didn't mean to get into a situation like this.

He just wanted to see that bright smile he had fallen in love with.

"I'm sorry Arthur but this cannot go unpunished. I have two more questions for you." The blonde angel lifted his head at the voice of Father. He was surprised he hadn't said anything until now.

"Do you know what they mean, Arthur? These feelings you have."

He pondered for a moment. These feelings of love. Were they love? Yes, probably. Maybe, he didn't know. He had just given them the name that fit best to him. Love. But even if they were this 'love', as he had deemed them. What did that mean?

"No Father, I do not."

"Then that is once more something you must learn. You have fallen to sin, so now you must pay these prices." He paused for another moment before continuing on to his last question for his lost son.

"Do you regret what you've done?"

...

The tension around him got thick, as if this supposed concept of 'time' which wasn't really existent here had stopped. Was he sorry? The young man he had found so endearing would have died if he hadn't stopped him with what little known connection he had. He was given the gift called life. Who's right was it to take it away from him? Perhaps it was Father's, but Arthur doubted that.

Another sin.

They kept piling up. It was only now that he realized how tainted he had become. He had just doubted those who created his existence! Gave him reason! And here he was disagreeing; he was forming his own beliefs on how things should be done. He was not like his brothers, he wasn't perfect anymore. Perhaps he wasn't perfect in the first place. He was filthy, riddled with sin and lies. He had been withholding the whole truth from them all to be completely honest. The boy wasn't simply interesting to him; he had come to love the simple knowledge that he had something precious to him. Even though Alfred would never even know who he was, where he was, or what he was. He would love him anyway.

"..."

"I see. With your departure I shall say I'm sorry." A pause. "All of you may leave. I don't want you to witness this."

As all his siblings turned their backs to him, he felt all impending doom fall upon him like a giant weight. What was to happen to him? Yes, he had fallen to sin, but what did that forebode? Was he to die? To cease to exist? He very much liked existing. Perhaps he was going to Hell; To the Devil, the ruler of his kind. The lord of the fallen, although he wasn't quite sure what being one of the fallen angels meant.

Father rose from his spot and headed over to a mantle off to the side of the room. The Archangels all gathered around Arthur as Vash and Lukas clasped iron cuffs around his slender wrists. They began to pull him out of the room by the chains linking the two cuffs, and brought him to a commons where there was one large puddle of clear water to gaze into. It was sky blue, and a tranquil surface with no disruptions. It was almost as if it was a hole down into the sky.

Father came soon after they had positioned Arthur at the edge. He handed the large silver saber he had gotten to Vash, who sized it up before coming over to Arthur, who was still facing the wide spread puddle.

Arthur could not see what he was doing, and didn't have a very good idea of what, but he didn't have to wait very long to find out.

Before he knew what had happened the blade struck directly into his joints. The appendages that connected his wings and shoulder blades were being hacked and sliced mercilessly. He bit his lower lip, trying not to scream. But this feeling, it was the most horrible feeling he had ever experienced. He had felt pain before sure, but not like this. He couldn't keep his agony silenced for long, and let his voice go free, screaming with each reverberation of pain in his senses. Burning cold metal continued to slice down into his shoulder blades, breaking into thin bones and slicing at his skin. His body writhed, and his wrists became chaffed as he struggled in his restraints. He dropped to his knees under the pressure of what he could only identify as punishment he deserved.

A sound escaped from his lips, one stagnated and cut off. Cut along with his wings, his means of identifying as an angel. It was as if freedom and mercy had left him, disconnected. It was so excruciating he could no longer speak. He couldn't scream, or groan. Nothing. His mouth laid slightly a gape as the blade finished its job, and his feathered limbs fell to the ground.

He smelled copper. His back felt damp and thick; spattered with blood that ran freely downward; all the way down his spine, and quickly creeping its way even further. Fresh wounds decorated his back, too bloody to see the definite V shape of where his wings had once been founded. Blood openly shed around him. On his white robes, even his laced sandals. He began to heave and cough, red staining his face as well as dripping into the water puddle he kneeled over. However the droplet's of blood didn't even disturb the surface of the water. His now useless wings' white pure feathers were burning into ash and blood right before his eyes. It was turning black as the edges of his vision were at that moment.

Before he faded into unconsciousness, he felt a sharp jab at his back, and a large splash of water.

"Goodbye, Angel of Britannia. You are no more."

Air.

It was all around him.

Forcing it around and giving motion to everything.

It slapped his fair colored face more than he ever felt it would. It was as if there was a raging storm going on around him. Hitting him, slapping him, as if it was angry at him, but there was no such thing. Although it looked like it very well could be. However he didn't know that, he had his eyes closed peacefully and was just coming out of the black recesses of his mind.

Why was this happening? Better yet, How?

The last thing he remembered was his usual surroundings: The white clouds, the warm light; his brethren.

Alfred nearly dying. The trial. Father and Vash with the sword. Toris's pity towards him. Emil's neglecting actions. His bloodied and burning wings detached on the ground. The ever undisturbed puddle of water.

He wished he was like that puddle, never to be disturbed, always to remain a constant. Never turning murky, and disgusting; never to turn sinful, filthy, or all the other things that Arthur was.

He still felt the air lashing out at him from all directions. The strong sound of it whipping past his ears, tossing his blonde locks about in a frenzied manner. Why was it so windy? He managed to open his eyes just in time to squint again and close them because blood had found its way up to his face.

How had that happened? Oh, right, the coughing, and his wounds. He opened his eyes again and took in his surroundings.

He was falling in mid air, amidst a sea of dark menacing blue. The clouds that used to cushion his feet were now high above him and about him, mocking him.

'Now who is above who, you wretched piece of filth? You do not deserve to stand upon us anymore.'

He supposed that is what they would be saying to him, if they could say anything at all. The weight of sin and fault was probably too heavy for the clouds to support. He wanted to apologize for how long they had been made to keep him up above them in the Heavens. Because he had to admit, he was in that state for a while before the trial happened.

He continued falling at a break-neck speed. Why was he falling anyway? He had been thrown out of Heaven yes, but was it literal? Was he just thrown out into the sky?

The sky. He glanced around and saw a formation of clouds off in the distance as he continued to fall below it. It was dark, heavy, and unhappy. Did he make them this way? Before long, he felt the pitter patter of water hit his skin in various spots at once. Were they tears? Were the clouds weeping? Did they feel pity for him? He felt tears forming in his own eyes, and quickly zip past him, flowing above him like the still wet blood riding up his legs(or was it down?) to his heels.

He was still falling...how long had it been now? He would imagine a long time. Was he supposed to fall like this forever? Fall forever out of eternity? Fall forever into sin? Or was he going to land? The next question was: where would he land, if he landed at all?

Hell?

Or somewhere else? Perhaps a place he didn't know about?

Maybe...he would fall to Earth?

No, even Earth was too good of a place. It was not for a failure of his race to go. He did not deserve to roam the Earth. The Earth was for humans, for those like Alfred. He didn't even deserve to look upon it, but he had; in far too many instances. He didn't deserve the privilege of even setting foot on the Earth's crust.

He didn't deserve to even know who Alfred was.

Alfred. Arthur wondered if Alfred felt different now. Did he still have those feelings of being watched? He doubted that. It was no coincidence that he felt that way; it had to be him sensing that Arthur was watching over him. There wasn't much else of an alternative reason.

That brought another thought. 'What is with all the thinking?' Arthur wondered when he had gotten too whiny and questionable.

What if Alfred in truth detested the feeling? Maybe he had lied to his friends? Had lied to Arthur? No, No. Alfred did not know he existed, and he never would. He and Arthur would never meet, they were meant to live in different planes of existence. Never crossing paths, never supposed to converse, or exchange feelings, or interests. Alfred was to go on with his years that Arthur had sinned for. He had more time, and Arthur would prefer in his weakened and stained state to die if it was to give Alfred assurance of that time.

He didn't know why, but he felt happy and sad about that fact at the same time.

He was happy because Alfred would not have to be tainted by such a lowly creature such as himself. His beauty and morality would forever be pure and safe from Arthur's evil and blackened wished, from his pale and bloodied arms.

But, he was also sad because he wished for nothing more than to embrace the blonde human, to have contact with him. He wanted Alfred to know who he was. To know that it was him who had watched over him all those times in his life. He was there for him.

He wanted him to know how much he felt for him.

All throughout his thoughts Arthur became increasingly aware of the pain from the wounds carved in his back. They kept throbbing, pulsating that new unexperienced level of pain all throughout his body. It made him feel horrible, and only reminded him of how everything had betrayed him, his own brothers and sisters, his father, his feelings, and his weak feeble body.

He was so weak.

So weak.

A sudden sensation flooded his senses and he lifted his head to look to where he was falling. A place of buildings; many crowded together buildings, trees, a park, a commons, streets and paths; a society. What place was this? Where? He had all these questions. But he dismissed them all as one realization came across him.

He wouldn't survive this fall.

There was no way he would survive; he no longer had his wings. He couldn't fly.

He couldn't be saved.

Neither from this fall nor from himself.

He saw the lands below him come closer, he was nearing their surface. What would happen to him after this? Death, he guessed. Because there was no way he would survive the amount of pain he would receive from coming into a land that he did not belong too. It would reject him, just like how the Heavens had rejected him, a broken angel with a bloodied identity.

The tallest of the buildings surrounded him at his level as he came crashing to the ground. Amazingly, he had such trajectory to smash in the middle of a sidewalk, right in front of the narrow space between two buildings. One was full of humans, having fun, laughing, drinking something they would call beer. He had managed to notice that much before tumbling his way into the pavement and creating a splatter of blood on the ground, and a fresh new wound from the impact on his torso. He tumbled and rolled into the space before having his right side of his head smash into a cold, rusty metal structure against the building walls.

He dropped limply to the ground on his side, scuffing his skin against it as the motion of his body stopped. Pain radiated and wracked his entire being. He felt blood dripping from his forehead, and possibly even from around his eye. His rib cage felt jumbled, and a rib or two jabbing in the wrong direction, causing more internal pain. The wounds on his back splayed their red contents as freshly as they did in Heaven, though now the red substance trickled from the pavement and was slowly making its way out into the street where he saw people walking.

It continued to pore down on his battered body, causing his blood to spread and dilute about him. It soaked his red stained robes, and plastered his hair to his face. Arthur winced as water droplets irritated his back, and noticed his wrists were still bound by the iron cuffs. He would try and get them off, but it wouldn't matter, he would be dying soon anyway.

He would be dying a sad and pitiful death here on Earth

He didn't deserve to die in such a place. It was too good for him. He didn't even deserve to bleed out on the slippery and slightly dirtied pavement.

He stared blankly out into the streets before him. He watched the feet moving by before him, not even slowing down. He wondered if the humans could see him. For their happiness he hoped not. He would think his current state would frighten them, but whether they saw him or not the crowd that had now started to thin paid him no mind.

The light kept slipping away from his surroundings now. It was getting darker. He couldn't figure out from what. Was it just the sunlight leaving, giving up on trying to shine through the dark and weeping clouds above? Or was it death, slowly taking his sight, his soul, and ripping it away from his pained body to fling back into the tresses of nonexistence.

The darkness kept burning at the edges, growing and closing in, making his gaze and mind blurred.

'If Alfred had died today, would he feel as horrible as this?'

ANGSTY CHAPTER IS ANGSTY.

Oh, at the time I really felt in the mood for some angst, so here you go~! DUNDUNDUN IS ARTIE DEAD?

Let's see...you guys hate me already? I'd love to know~ because at some point you're probably going to.

We'll see~ :)