FALLEN ANGEL: MARRIED TO THE DEMON KING

Arella leaned on her broom, looking out the window at the rolling hills beyond. The sun was setting on the horizon. Even after one hundred years in the human realm, the view of the sunset always brought a smile to Arella's face.

A century after being banished to the human realm was enough for Arella to get used to her life. Time in the human realm moved slower than it did in the angel realm. Either that or she felt the movement of time more acutely seeing as she had no official work to do. Her days had passed by in peaceful bliss, seeing as she mainly mediated some human squabbles, chased of the occasional demon or bandit, and simply built an unremarkable life in the cottage.

If she squinted her eyes enough, she could see the castle walls that had replaced the little village she had landed in all those years ago. The king of the small kingdom was the great-great-grandchild of Jim. He usually came crying to Arella when the duties of a king were getting too difficult for him. Arella was quite proud of her achievement of helping such a small village grow to the kingdom that it now was.

The Shadow Hound, still her silent and ever watchful companion, lounged by the hearth, its six legs curled up beneath it, as she swept dust from the floor. It had not grown older in appearance, but its once persistent menacing glow had softened somewhat. Now, its presence was a very comforting shadow that hung around wherever Arella went.

Arella twitched her wings at the base.

She sometimes wished that she had taken the offer to make her small cottage even bigger when some of the previous kings had asked. However, it would have been a pain to clean, and the last thing she wanted were servants.

Staying close to her angelic power over a long period of time would not be healthy for any human. Although her powers could heal, too much of anything was poisonous. Especially for weak and fragile humans.

Nevertheless, she had grown used to the human realm, and she could even say that she had grown to like it. Here she lived on her own terms.

At the very least, she did not have to see Abbadon's ugly face every couple of years.

Still, she did wonder how her parents were doing. Not once had she gotten a letter from them or from her brother. Although she did like the fact that she had not listened to the incessant whispers of how she was weaker than her brother and how she could never measure up, she still did miss her family.

"It is almost time to harvest from our little garden, Echo," she addressed the Shadow Hound, who looked up at her with a disinterested look.

Although he never helped her to harvest the meagre vegetables they grew in their backyard, he was the first one to dig his snout into the basket of tomatoes.

Arella walked out to the back garden, stretching out her wings in the process. Since the little village had grown bigger, she had gotten the chance to fly ever so often. If anything, she flew too often to places where she could walk.

She raised her hands up in the air, stretching her body just as she was stretching her wings. The leaves on the trees had begun to turn that beautiful brown color that she adored. Winter was almost upon them, and with it came the spiced wine that she absolutely loved to drink. "Yes, we should be harvesting tomorrow, Echo. Isn't it exciting?" She walked to the garden and touched one of the bright red tomatoes.

The Shadow Hound let out a huff from inside the house, just loud enough for her to hear.

Just then, there was a loud knock from the main door. Arella turned her body, surprised by the knock. It could not be the king, for he usually barged into her cottage like it was his palace. She walked back into the cottage, tucking her wings behind her.

Echo had stood up and was facing the door as he let out a low growl. "Down boy." Arella rubbed the crown of his head as she walked past his spot.

She raised her hand to fix the halo above her head just before turning the knob. Who would venture this deep into the woods when it was becoming late evening?

She opened the door to find a striking figure standing outside it. The visitor was tall, wearing white robes that had gold thread spun into the cuffs of the sleeves and the collar. The gold glimmered faintly in the setting sun. Their pristine white wings were tucked neatly behind them, and their silver eyes seemed to gleam upon seeing Arella.

"Arella of the Angels of Water," the angel's voice was low and calm, just like how Arella remembered it. "It has been a long time."

Arella could feel her eye twitch, "Solan of the Angels of Wind." She greeted back, "It has not been long enough." She crossed her arms over each other, suddenly conscious of the dress she wore. It was a far cry from the angel garb she wore while in the heavens. However, it was her most comfortable.

It was also the dress that showed most cleavage and settled just at mid-thigh.

Such an outfit in the heavens would be considered scandalous. She saw how his gaze settled on her chest.

"What brings you here, Solan?" Her words brought him out of his reverie.

The Angels of Wind were considered Heaven's messengers. They would deliver the messages from higher up, and such messages were considered binding on whoever received them.

Just as Arella suspected, he held out a sealed envelope with a golden crest on it. Arella's stomach twisted. She wished he was here to give her greetings, but he was not.

"I come bearing a decree from the Council of Angels." He stepped forward into her space, which caused Arella to take a step back. This gave him the opportunity to walk into her cottage.

"Of course you do." Arella muttered. "Let yourself in too, why don't you?" She continued to grumble as she snatched the envelope from his hand. She broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

Her eyes quickly scanned the words, her expression shifting from confusion to disbelief to outright horror.

"You have got to be messing with me."

"It is no jest." Solan said absentmindedly. His gaze had landed on the Shadow Hound, and there was a look of disgust on his face.

The letter was brief, as if its shortness would make the situation better.

By the will of the Council of Angels, Arella of the Angels of Water, of the House of Camael, is to hereby be betrothed to his infernal majesty, King Varziel of the Delmon Realm. This is part of the celestial accord to ensure lasting peace between the angel realm and the demon realm. Preparations for the union will commence immediately. You are to present yourself before the Council in three days' time.

"Marry the demon king." Arella muttered.

Then she looked at Solan and said, "Marry the Demon King?" Her voice rose up to something akin to a shrill, "Did everyone in heaven collectively lose their goddamn minds?"

"The accord is delicate," Solan tried. He knew well of Arella's explosive temper: "The war between our realms has reached a tipping point. This might be the only way to prevent a catastrophy."

S/T:

Arella: It would seem that the angels have all collectively lost their minds. I would like to tender my resignation. Also, can you all please shove that proposal up your asses?

Charles (Jim's great-great-great grandson): Okay, that was better, but can you say it with fewer curse words? Perhaps smile to show that you mean no harm.

Arella: (Glares at him) Are you the one being forced to marry a demon?

Charles: (Shakes his head out of fear.) (He makes a zipping motion over his lips and throws away the key.)