[Host…]

Asterius barely glances at the System window as they enter the cottage. It had been a quiet walk back, there wasn’t much to say when the whole of Celestia was staring at your back, watching your every move, just waiting for you to slip. For just a moment Asterius even felt the heavy judging gaze of the Primordial Creation, though it is not the true god of this world that has him so on edge.

No, it was the displeased golden gaze that almost burned into his back. The warning bells in his head are drowning out his thoughts, and there is a slight shake in his hands that he can’t stop.

Cadyern’s smug smirk had quickly morphed into a frown as they walked. Whatever good mood he had been in, quickly souring as they left, and Asterius was too busy being concerned about what he knew was coming to offer any false comfort.

[System promised to warn Host before it happens again-]

‘I know System,’ he thinks as the door closes behind them, plunging them into the darkness of the living room. The only light coming from the diluted sunlight escaping from the covered windows. ‘I know what is about to happen.’

There’s the distinct sound of running feet and chiming bells. Asterius has just enough time to look up as he gets an armful of happy seraphim.

“Master!” and Pluma is so over excited the poor angel is stuck in a cross between his True and Vessel forms, human shaped body with six small fluttering wings, white feathers where ears should be, and a golden lion tail swishing in the air. “Master you’re finally back! I’ve been waiting-,” Pluma cuts himself off, big blue eyes blinking in confusion, “Master?”

Asterius does his best to smile, but by Pluma’s frown, he isn’t doing a very good job, “It's okay Pluma, but I need you to go back upstairs for a little bit.”

Pluma stares, face shifting into worry as he glances around, “But-,”

“Listen to your Master,” Cadeyrn chides, walking up beside Asterius and nudging the angel forward.

“I want to help-,”

“Pluma,” and the angel turns towards him, puppy dog eyes in full effect. They don’t work now, the overwhelming fear driving off any feelings of guilt or heartbreak, he can deal with them later, once he’s sure Pluma is away and semi-safe. “Please go upstairs, that’s what will help me the most right now.”

Pluma looks like he still wants to argue, but the angel nods. A little shudder working its way through his small frame, there is a sad fear in his eyes, a look that betrays the fact he knows what’s about to happen. Still, he puts on a brave face, giving Asterius a wobbly smile and another quick hug. Then turns around, leaping into the air and shifting to his griffin form, flying up and into the darkness of the second floor.

[Host!-]

There’s a loud echoing knock at the door, both Asterius and Cadeyrn tense from the sound, both slowly turning to stare at the front door. They already know who’s there, but the System still informs him anyway.

[Sanctus is here.]

Asterius takes a deep shuddering breath of his own, keeping his hands clasped tightly together, to hide the shaking he still can’t stop.

“I’ll get it,” and Cadeyrn moves forward, slowly opening the door.

As the System promised, there is a familiar angel on the other side, his red-gold wings stretching out behind him so wide that they block out the blue of the sky.

He doesn’t even look at Cadeyrn, golden glare fixing itself on Asterius, “Starling,” he greets, voice perfectly even. Asterius almost wishes the angel was less put together, at least then he would know what he is thinking, but he plays along, matching the neutral tone.

“High Seraphim,” he greets back, hoping the fear doesn’t leak into his voice, “Is there something you need?”

Sanctus smiles, something fond and cruel, walking to the house like it is his, “Must I always visit my favorite god for a reason?” and Sanctus drops his overcoat casually on the back of a chair, strolling right up to Asterius with a hum, “but if you want a reason,” and Asterius’s chin is tilted up so he’s looking Sanctus in the eyes, “then blame that demon of yours for his little stunt.”

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Cadeyrn closes the door with a loud snap, face blank, but his brightly glowing red eyes, tell a different story of his uncaring front. “If I have displeased you with my actions High Seraphim,” he says calmly, walking up and positioning himself behind Asterius, hand reaching out and carefully closing around Sanctus’s wrist, “then your quarrel is with me, not the FateWeaver.”

Sanctus hums, eyes flashing molten as the temperature spikes, hot enough to burn, Asterius flinches, but his jaw is held tight, Cadeyrn tenses behind him, but does not let go of Sanctus’s wrist. The angel huffs, amused annoyance, and lets Asterius go, Cadeyrn releases him in turn.

“I would be careful with your words Cadeyrn, I have no power over your life, but-,” and he reaches forward, Asterius flinches back, but stills, allowing the hand to touch his cheek, “I do have power over your god.”

It is a threat, plain and simple, behave or there will be consequences.

“But I am not here to scold a demon for acting out of turn, I’m sure you just didn’t know any better yes?”

Asterius can hear Cadeyrn grit his teeth, but the demon still manages a muttered, “Yes.”

The angel smiles, white teeth glittering in the dim sunlight, “Good, then Starling I have a request for you.”

“A request?” he asks carefully, startled by the sudden turn of events, he was so sure Sanctus was here to punish him for causing a scene, for making him look bad, or whatever other reason the High Seraphim deemed enough.

“Our Maria is quite convinced that she has a guardian angel.”

[Guardian angel?] The System questions, and Asterius isn’t sure he should feel happy that it's just as confused as he is. Angels were mentioned of course in the original novel, but the only angel that had any weight was Sanctus alone, another red flag Asterius really should have noticed sooner.

“I know of no such angel.”

“Oh no, I wasn’t implying such a thing,” and Sanctus chuckles like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard in a long while, “A garden angel is a purely human idea,” and it sends a chill down his spine the way he says “human” not like a curse, but more akin to an annoyed dog owner speaking about their pet. “It is a truly ridiculous notion, but she will be our empress and she is so very young, it wouldn’t do to tarnish her dreams would it?”

This conversation is getting more and more strange, but still, he asks, “And what would you have me do?” Because he has no idea what Sanctus thinks he can do to help here. Make up some story about her meeting this fictional angel later?

“It is simple Starling,” Sanctus says, cupping Asterius's hands like a mock prayer, “You will tell her what she wants to hear, you will give her the hope that she so desperately craves, and you will tell her who her guardian angel is.”

“But…,” he says carefully, even more lost on the grand plan Santus is trying to rope him into, “there is no guardian angel.”

Sanctus chuckles again, “Come on little Starling,” he teases, voice light and a tad disappointed, “you are the brilliant star that I have raised myself. Surely you can understand what I am implying with my pretty words?”

And slowly realization does dawn on him. Sanctus grins the moment it shows on his face, blank mask cracking to shift into disgusted horror, “You." he breathes and he wishes his answer was wrong, but he knows he's not, "You want to be the guardian angel."

“See?” he coos, cupping Asterius’s face and tugging lightly on his pointed ear, causing his earring to make a muffled chime, “I knew you could figure it out, my Starling is so bright.”

“But why-,”

“Starling,” and he’s so close, too close, but Asterius can’t back away, the fear coiled too tightly, “You are the God of Fate, surely you must know that this is your part to play. Your demon’s little stunt was quite the shocker, especially to poor Maria," and his skin crawls at how he describes the female lead, at the warning laced into the sentence, "Thankfully, your little tricks of teaching her humanity have only backfired on you, she sees you as nothing but a villain now.”

And what cruel irony was this? Fate finding its way? The plot correcting itself? Or just a cosmic joke by the primordial Creation? Did it matter why at all? It was still the same outcome, Asterius was the villain, and he would always be the villain.

“But Starling, even if you are the villain to everyone, even if the heavens themselves abandon you,” and Sanctus leans down, bumping their foreheads together lightly in a gesture that would normally be read as fond and enduring, it is only chilling now, knowing his words are a deadly promise, a threat of what was to come, “I will never leave you.”

So this was the truth. Asterius never really was the villain, just a puppet for Sanctus's agenda. A scapegoat to pile on the blame, a convenient target to rally the Celestials behind to strengthen his power.

“But-,” and he has to force the words out, “If I am the villain, why would she trust me to not lie?”

Sanctus smiles, and Asterius wishes he never asked, because it is the first true look of cruelty Sanctus has ever worn.

“Oh, little Starling, I wasn’t talking to you,” and he’s even more confused and desperate, who was he talking to if not him? There was no one else here-

And suddenly it all makes sense, this entire conversation had never been about him, not really, from the very beginning it has only ever been a threat. A threat not meant for Asterius.

“Maria won’t trust you. You are the villain in this fairy tale,” and Sanctus gently pets his hair, smile fond and indulgent, “and what a tragic, beautiful villain you will make, I can’t wait to see your performance.” And he sounds almost giddy at the idea as if he truly cannot wait to see Asterius force himself to be the villain for the sake of both the plot and his own twisted entertainment.

“But no Starling, Maria will not listen to you now, she barely heads my words. But why wouldn’t this goddess full of human morality ever have reason to doubt the words of an imprisoned demon seeking help?”