Chapter 11
Aurelius
Michael teleported us to his island with a puff of angelic energy.
As we needed a remote place where both angels and demons could participate, he and Lucifer agreed to lend us their precious little island for my wedding festivities, but they had a few rules. A barrier around the island to protect us from the eyes of humans agreed with my own vision, but they also insisted on teleporting each of the guests in, so that none of us knew the precise location of the island and could not bother them in the future.
When we appeared at the edge of the island, I was completely unprepared to be thrown over someone’s shoulder.
“What’s the meaning of this?!” I screeched.
“Don’t wiggle too much or you will destroy your precious wedding clothes,” the person holding me said.
That voice, I knew it.
“Gabriel, put me down!” I pounded my fists on his back, but he had no intentions of letting me go. In fact, he was moving forward, jogging away from the scene with me like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder.
Fortunately, the love of my life teleported in with Lucifer just a second later.
“Abaddon, save me!” I yelled, and the demon’s eyes widened. He immediately sprang forward.
“You want this precious demon?” Gabriel said dramatically. “Then you have to stop us from stealing such a gem!”
The demon charged at the Archangel, but I was already being tossed up into a flying angel’s arms. All the jewelry on me rattled as I was swept away by Tirael, the traitor. I glared at him.
“I’m sorry, this is just a game,” he said, then dropped me from up high, making me instantly panic, only for another angel to catch me.
“This is your own fault. You were the one who told us you wanted to experience as many wedding traditions as possible,” Michael teased.
“I didn’t account for the bride-snatching tradition. And why am I the bride?” I sulked, but stopped struggling.
“I would love to try this with Abaddon. It would be so funny, but… Oh, shit!” Michael barely avoided the shadow suddenly hanging over us, predator’s wings spread wide. Michael bolted, but Abaddon gave chase. The Archangel might be swifter while flying straight, but there was a limited space on the island so when he had to circle back because of the magical barrier, Abaddon caught up to him.
“Raphael, a little help!”
With the healer distracting Abaddon, Michael was able to get away with me.
He took me to a clearing where a group of excited angels waited. He put me down on a beautiful throne-like chair. I fixed my clothing and cleaned off the invisible specks of dust, acting as if I always planned to end up here, and took a fetching pose waiting for my savior.
Abaddon appeared a while later. Disheveled, a bit crazed, but I was happy to notice a lack of blood on either him or Raphael. I did not want the repeat of the cave scene; someone losing a limb at my wedding wasn’t exactly how I wanted it to be remembered.
“I have come for my bride. Give him to me,” Abaddon said.
“I’m not going to just give him to you. You have to take him,” Michael grinned. “And for that you have to beat me…”
I could see my lover ready his claws, eager to beat the Archangel to a pulp.
“…beat me in a dance battle!” Michael finished quickly, sensing the danger. “Both of us get to pick a dance style, and the crowd will decide who won.”
“Dance with daggers,” Abaddon said immediately.
I was pretty sure he was a master of it, as I remembered him mentioning practicing this kind of dance with certain cultures during his travels on Earth. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one to know that tidbit, as Michael only nodded and an angel appeared with two sets of beautiful ceremonial daggers. As music flowed around us, so did Abaddon. His dance was a breathtaking marriage of fighting and the joy of moving your body to the rhythm. A dangerous little spectacle that made my heart pound at each glint of the bare blade so close to skin.
Michael wasn’t half bad himself. At least he knew how the dance should look, but he didn’t have the needed focus; his movements were too stiff, too by the book compared to my lover’s unrestrained and often improvised steps.
Abaddon won that round, and the crowd clapped.
“Well then, as you are so graceful, you surely won’t have a problem with ballet,” Michael made his choice.
I tried not to snicker as Abaddon was put in a tutu and ballet shoes. We didn’t really have time to make him dress in a complete costume, but I liked the touch of flamboyance the tutu gave. The Lord of Desolation sighed deeply and took the opening pose. Music from Swan Lake started playing, and I had the greatest time watching Michael and Abaddon trying to outdo each other, the two large men taking dainty steps.
I knew that ballet was one of the dance forms that was extremely hard to master and that ballet dancers were up there with the most hardcore gymnasts when it came to paying for their art in blood and sweat. But the truth still remained that ballet often looked pretty. Lofty. Delicate. And while you could argue the first description fit Abaddon, the other two did not. I loved the contrast.
When it came to choosing a winner, more of the crowd clapped for Michael. Yeah, objectively, he performed better, but I clapped much louder and harder for Abaddon because I was not impartial and I was proud of it. That was my lover, my soon-to-be husband, performing ballet for me! Michael seemed to understand my delight.
“I guess you won both rounds according to the most important person here, so I will have to let your bride go,” Michael moved aside with a swoop of his hand, leaving the path to me open.
Abaddon took the opening immediately and scooped me up in his arms.
“I can walk,” I grumbled.
“No. I will carry you everywhere. You’re not leaving my arms. I don’t trust that someone won’t steal you again.”
He was so precious I had to kiss his nose.
Abaddon
I thought after the whole bride snatching business we would be allowed to finally go to the site of the ceremony but alas we were not so lucky.
The angels had their chance to be nuisances… now it was the demons’ turn.
“Halt!” Lucifer stopped our procession. “If you want to pass, you must prove your dedication to your bride.”
I stepped forward.
“Bring it on.”
“Not you, bride,” Lucifer snorted. “I’m talking to him.”
Aurelius blanched when the Hell ruler’s gaze bore into him.
“Put me down!” he hissed, no longer content with being carried in my arms.
For a brief moment I contemplated just leaving, but Aurelius would kill me if the big ceremony did not take place, so I resigned myself to this charade and put my huffy lover down.
The demon representatives unsubtly herded me behind them, separating me from Aurelius, who stood in front of the five demons proudly.
The shaking of his hands was almost imperceptible. It reminded me of when we were discussing the preparations and Aurelius said ‘I want to get a good grade in wedding, something that is both normal and achievable’. I suspected it was one of those Earth meme curiosities, but even if I didn’t know the context, the words still showed how nervous Aurelius was about this.
Lucifer, Beelzebub, Hellion, Azazel, Malachite.
“I will be gracious enough to let you pick who you want to start with,” Lucifer decided.
That may not be the mercy he wanted it to be, considering the nerves eating Aurelius up. His gaze scanned the crowd, jumping between the familiar figures.
“Azazel,” he said, picking the Archdemon who he had the least personal connection to and wasn’t afraid of disappointing.
“One of the traditions is to pay for the bride. I suppose livestock is more traditional, but I will take gold,” Azazel extended his palm imperiously.
There was a lot of gold on my lover. Trouble was, each shiny material, embellishment, or jewelry was picked to compliment Aurelius’s wedding outfit and I knew parting with any of it was unacceptable to my lover’s exacting vision. I prepared myself for trouble but had to blink in surprise as Aurelius remained calm and smugly reached into his sleeve, producing a pair of golden bangles.
He had backup jewelry. Of course.
Good God, I loved that ridiculous man.
Appeased by the golden offering, Azazel nodded. Beelzebub was chosen next.
“Let’s get it over with,” Aurelius muttered under his breath.
“As the groom, you must appreciate the bride’s friends and family. Go on then, pay me compliments. And if they are good enough I will let you pass.”
Beelzebub’s smugness was palpable.
“You are an exceptional individual with a unique array of skills,” Aurelius said with a wide, too wide, smile. “I just love how you don’t care how you come across. And your style? A bold choice. You are smarter than you look.”
Beelzebub soaked the insults thinly veiled as compliments like a sponge.
“Hmmm, I can see that you are trying and that’s admirable,” the Archdemon fired back. “I suppose I will accept your effort.”
With that exercise in passive-aggressiveness we moved onto the next target.
“I thought you would choose me first. This would be much funnier that way,” Hellion pouted. He produced a fake mustache from his pocket. “Wear this.”
The sparks from Aurelius’ eyes promised retribution as he snatched the prop from his friend’s (frenemy’s?) hand. I couldn’t help but huff a laugh at the sight of my lover with a hilarious, curled mustache. Fortunately, my indiscretion was covered by the reaction of the rest of the welcoming party and the gawkers; hoots of laughter were coming from all sides.
“Lucifer,” Aurelius said through gritted teeth, trying to hurry things along.
“We are here to judge your character, but to be honest, I don’t trust myself with that task. Thankfully, as we all know there is one foolproof way to discover if someone is good at heart,” Lucifer said dramatically, the crowd eating his impassioned speech up. “Bane! Come here!” A fluffy ball of white launched itself at Lucifer. “If you can convince Bane to like you, I will give you my seal of approval.”
Everyone crowded around Aurelius and the fox, expecting some cute interactions. I knew from my visits to Michael and Lucifer’s place the fox was easy to please and unafraid to climb you like a tree to get some scritches, so I didn’t expect any trouble with this task.
Then I saw the fear in Aurelius’ eyes.
“Good… good doggy… good foxy…” Aurelius said as Bane tilted his head curiously.
A drop of sweat started making its way down the demon’s temple as he swallowed hard and slowly crouched down to be on the animal’s level. Aurelius extended his hand towards the fox but flinched away as the animal reacted by perking up.
He was afraid of the little thing, yet he still pushed himself to befriend Bane. For me. He was doing this for me.
The fox looked confused, but he waited patiently for Aurelius to gather himself and try again. Seeing the extended hand, the fox wriggled forward and pressed his snout into it. The demon’s body froze. He looked deathly afraid and I couldn’t stand it.
I pushed to the front and called out to my intended.
“It’s alright, I wouldn’t let anything hurt you,” I said and Aurelius took a shuddering breath. “Did I ever tell you how I domesticated a wolf pack?”
I launched into a story from my past, one of the tales I kept close to my heart. But for Aurelius I was willing to make an exception for the first time in my life and share the tale even with people I didn’t know. Just like I hoped, the story distracted and calmed Aurelius and with time Bane made his way into his lap and curled up, content. Aurelius’ trembling hand stroked his fur.
“Well, that seems to be a firm ‘yes’. You are a good egg, Aurelius,” Lucifer said softly and picked up his sleepy pet.
A sigh of relief left Aurelius’ lips but his brows knitted together again with worry as he looked at the last person standing in his way. Malachite. The one demon whose approval really mattered to him.
“Hug me,” Malachite said.
“What?” Aurelius startled.
“Hug me,“ Malachite repeated, opening his arms. “That’s all you need to do for me to know you are perfect for my Abaddon.”
He had his arms full of a young ascended demon a second later.
We all pretended not to see how Aurelius’ eyes looked misty as he hugged Malachite for all he was worth.
I needed to hurry things along because that mistiness seemed to be spreading.
“I came here to marry. If anyone else stands in my way, I will kill them. Come, Aurelius.”
My lover threw the fake mustache away with vicious satisfaction, stomping on the offending item for good measure.
We stepped onto the path hand in hand, ready for the last step.
Aurelius
You would think I would remember my own wedding in 8K quality, but the truth was a bit different; I hate to say it, but the entire ordeal passed in a kind of haze. The enchanting evening took on a dreamlike quality for me. It might have had something to do with the atmosphere I created on the island by using beautiful fairy lights, magical flowers, and other decorations that would make any human who saw them think they got lost on a fantasy movie set, or walked into a fairy ring and were transported to the fae realm.
Now, with my faulty memory, I regretted not hiring one of the human photographers I had my eye on to document the ceremony, even if we would have to scramble their brain after they finished the job. But alas, I decided photographing the evening would inevitably lead to immortalizing drunken escapades of the guests or other embarrassing events so I only arranged a photos session at the Manor before the big day.
But even with my spotty recollection there were a few points that had perfect clarity. The first one was me climbing the steps to the stone platform set in the mountain’s side in the middle of the island while watching Abaddon ascend in rhythm with me from the other side, each of our steps perfectly synchronized. Behind my lover Lucifer followed and on my side, Hellion had the uneasy task of keeping my flowing train from touching the ground. In many cultures it was traditional for the bride to be escorted by the family, but I didn’t have one now, maybe not ever, so instead we had our best men escorting us.
In the middle of the platform waited a person important to both of us, the only man who really could give us our blessings, Malachite. He nodded solemnly as we neared and took our place. As the wedding was a show and there were hundreds of eyes on us, we decided against facing away from the crowd. Instead, we stood in a triangle-like formation, me and Abaddon facing each other, the fairy lights flickering around us as Malachite spoke.
“We are gathered here today to join Abaddon and Aurelius in matrimony. If anyone has anything to say against this marriage, you can say your piece now and face consequences later.”
Resolutely, no one voiced any objections, not even the rude trickster, Beelzebub. It might have something to do with how three Archangels hovered menacingly over the demon who stood with his arms crossed, pouting at not being allowed to create chaos.
“As no one objects, let us proceed. This bond you will create today is a thread that will bind you forever. Please, say your vows to each other.”
The next part was a blur again, but I have practised my vows so fervently I had all the words forever etched in my brain. And as nobody told me what a fool I made of myself by tripping over my words, I had to assume I said my part perfectly, even if stress was eating me from inside.
“I want to learn about your past and experience the echoes of it every day with you. But I want to know what the future with you feels like even more. I promise you, Abaddon, that I will stitch us together so tightly no one, no force in Hell, Heaven, or beyond, can separate us, can break the connection between us. I am yours, forever.”
That’s what I assume I said. Fortunately, my brain turned back on for Abaddon’s response. After the wedding, each time I let my mind drift, I inevitably returned to those words—an impassioned speech from my calm, cold lover—and I often found myself sporting a silly smile on my face.
“Aurelius, you have changed me. I had always thought myself a stone in the river, large enough to never be moved. But you have flowed me with your care, your curiosity, your smiles, your happiness, and I found myself accepting the embrace of the flowing river of your ever-changing presence. It was a sip of water that allowed me to not only exist, not only endure, but live again. Aurelius, I promise to live my life to the fullest with you, forever.”
We cemented our reunion with words of confirmation, with beautiful rings, with a long stripe of ceremonial cloth winding around our hands. We shared a tender kiss after Abaddon lifted my veil. We twined our arms with each other to drink tea. The mix of various traditions was more relatable to the angels and demons who weren’t raised in only one culture and I thrived having an option to say yes to life with Abaddon again and again, in so many ways. But truly, it was the vows that were the most important part for me, and everything that followed was only an afterthought. Even when Abaddon placed that softest of kisses on my lips, it was just a bookmark to save the page, a promise suspended in time until we could be alone to fulfill all of our desires.
But before we could consummate the marriage in our wedding bed (and no, I did not want to follow the tradition of having a witness there, or to have a group of jeering people escort me to be deflowered), we needed to bring the celebrations to a conclusion first. The next hour was a whirlwind of well-wishes. Only people of Abaddon’s rank could give us gifts, as my lover decided it would be unprofessional to expect gifts from people who worked for him. But even without a ton of offerings I was so happy I could burst. Finally, I put a ring on it and no one was going to go after my man! Well, they could try, but now I had a legit excuse to go apeshit on anyone that put moves on Abaddon. Everything was just perfect.
That is until a few hours later when the cake had been wheeled in. It was a monstrosity of decadence, a product of hours spent testing every manner and debating the presentation of this culinary marvel. It came out magnificently, a true work of art. I couldn’t wait to taste it! I beamed at Abaddon as we held the handle of the knife together to cut the first slice. Perfect. Everything was so perfect.
Then the towering cake wobbled, as a group of unruly guests rammed into the table.
It fell onto me, and I was too shocked to move away. I blinked. Then blinked again. Someone’s ‘oh shit’ carried loudly through the sudden silence. I had cake on my face. On my beautiful wedding clothes. Sure, I was planning to change into something less cumbersome and better for dancing as the night progressed, but there was cake on my wedding clothes. A bundle of what looked like five demons—no, scratch that, there were at least two angels in the mix—lay on the floor and stared at me with wide eyes.
I had a knife in my right hand. I had cake in my left hand. I needed to throw something and Abaddon was holding my right hand in place. So, I threw what I could.
The cake sketched an arc in the air and smacked straight into a surprised angel’s face.
The ensuing epic food fight would be, in the end, what went down into the annals of history. It wasn’t quite what I wanted my wedding to be remembered by, but oh well. Any press is good press, as they say. At least I made sure nobody would forget my wedding for a long time.
“Did you see the look on Hellion’s face when Zachariel caught the bouquet?” I snickered, remembering the look of horror on my friend’s face and his insistence he and Zachariel were absolutely not going to be the next to marry.
“I admit, his expression was quite entertaining,” Abaddon agreed with me as we made our way out of the teleportation chamber at the Shadowcrest Manor.
Ah, finally free from the spectacle, just the echoing, silent Manor around us.
I leaned against my husband (husband!) as we walked to our bedroom. I didn’t care if it was my room or Abaddon’s; I just wanted to share space with him every night, every hour of the day, to be as close as possible, and then a few orders of magnitude closer.
I looked at a particularly ugly sculpture of a cherub we just passed and realized something.
“Wait, our rooms are the other way.”
“That’s because we aren’t going there. Not yet.”
I blinked up at my lover but allowed myself to be steered forward. The trouble was, I was pretty exhausted, not only physically, but mentally, and I didn’t know if I even had enough strength left to consummate our marriage with the vigor the experience deserved… and here Abaddon was dragging us somewhere, instead of running straight to bed with me. Suspicious.
My eyebrows climbed high on my forehead when we came outside and I saw the walls filled with paintings. As I was frowning at the frescos, Abaddon left my side and returned before I even noticed. He carried paints and brushes with him.
“Abaddon, honey, I know this is important to you, and I will forever cherish giving our marriage space on your wall of memories… but maybe you could paint that tomorrow,” I offered.
Abaddon swallowed, as if he had any reason to be nervous with me, when I accepted him so completely.
“I’m not going to paint. You are.”
I stared at the paints and brushes Abaddon pushed in my direction, uncomprehending.
“What?” I said very intelligently. “Wait, no, you cannot mean… This is your wall!” I gestured wildly, doing a 180 from a lethargic exhaustion into a frenzy. “You paint here. It’s your memories. You’re the artist. It’s your art. It’s… it’s you,” I said helplessly.
“And now you become a part of me.”
A gentle hand guided a paintbrush between my frozen fingers.
“I want to fill this section together with you. We don’t need to decorate the entire wall this instant, but I want you to put on the first stroke right now.”
I clutched at the paintbrush, my knuckles going white.
“But what if I ruin it? I’m better at sketching, not painting. Something like this needs to be planned. What if I make a wobbly line? A smear? The wall isn’t as forgiving as paper! There’s no undo button like on my tablet!”
“There are no mistakes, only happy accidents,” Abaddon quoted with a straight face, and the tension suddenly discharged from me, like electricity passing into the earth. The thought of my husband watching Bob Ross painting his happy little trees and taking his advice to heart made me giggle.
“Yeah, well, I’ll be even happier when I don’t have any accidents,” I said. “Okay, you want me to put something there, anything, right? A few lines which will become the base of a pattern signifying our union,” I mused, ideas unfurling slowly in my mind like flowers.
I glanced at the paint colors and spotted gold. There was no doubt I had to use that one; gold was my signature color, after all. As for Abaddon, either black or purple would do. We were still clad in our second set of more informal clothes that kept to the theme of black, white, and red, so I decided to use black this time, as it would work better than purple with the other hues from this color palette.
Colors chosen, I just had to figure out the shape of what I was going to paint. A simple concept would work best, so I didn’t have to fear not doing it justice. Abaddon twined his fingers with mine as I contemplated my choices. The sight of our dark and light skin contrasting as our fingers intertwined gave me an idea.
Two lines wrapped around each other, intertwining gold and black, dancing together in perfect step with each other, just as we did earlier today. I dipped the brush into the gold paint and put it to the wall, creating a wavy vertical line. I let it set, then I switched to black, creating a line that mirrored the golden one. The loops were intersecting, forever joined, even when they pulled apart. It wasn’t much, just the beginning, but my heart soared at the privilege I had been given. Those two lines were more precious than Mona Lisa, than the diamond dress Marylin Monroe wore, than anything.
When I looked at Abaddon, I saw not even an ounce of regret for letting me deface his holy ritual. He was just as proud of those two lines as I was.
Suddenly, I wasn’t tired anymore. I wanted to curl myself around my husband, to test what else we could intertwine together. Hungrily, I pulled him into a kiss. Who needed a wedding bed? I could confirm our marriage anywhere.
And later…
Everywhere.