War and Justice
The curtains in Nathaniel’s office swayed lightly, shadows moving across the floor. His chair gave under his weight, leaned back to accommodate the way he sat, elbow resting on the arm, chin pinched pensively. The pile of books from yesterday was still here; today’s files sat on the opposite end of the desk, blank pages covering the center, directly in front of him, a quill nearby.
Last night had been different. His whole body felt different, changed, as if it’d been opened up and stuffed with something he couldn’t recognize. Maybe it was the lack of confrontation, or how he hadn’t said anything he was supposed to, acting like a completely different person to prove a point that Aiden would probably never even get. Worse, a point Aiden probably already knew about, but refused to acknowledge in front of him, because tormenting him was what Aiden had been sent out to do. That was his mission in Paradise.
Who had sent him and why? Unfortunately, Nathaniel had no access to that kind of information, but Charmaine might. Picking up the quill, he wrote a quick note on a blank page and sent it off with a flick of the wrist, watching it vaporize right before his eyes. If she wasn’t busy, then she’d be here soon. Actually, no, scratch that; she’d be here regardless of what she had to do today, because she always made time for him.
Not too long after, there was movement outside, a disturbance on the sandy stone path that traveled along the side of his office, half-obscured by the thin curtains that ebbed and flowed in the gaps between columns. The sound of wings flapping, a delicate descent, and Charmaine hovered into view; the hem of her dress touched the stone path, hair blowing with the breeze. Blue eyes fell on his face as she approached, watching him through the curtains.
“What troubling news requires my visit?” she asked, voice light and casual despite the contents of her greeting, her way of being friendly. It’d taken him a while to get used to it. When he’d first been promoted, she’d intimidated him terribly. Now, those were fond memories. Leaning back on his chair, Nathaniel bounced the quill between two fingers.
“Do you know who assigned me to Aiden? I know that has nothing to do with you, but maybe you can help me find out. There are thoughts in my head that I’d like to put to rest before they make a mess of things. I haven’t been able to think properly this whole week.”
“You mean since The Bleeding,” she corrected, taking the seat across from him, legs crossed under the massive skirt of her dress.
“The Bleeding isn’t affecting me anymore; this is something else. This is me unable to focus unless I know whose brilliant idea it was to assign Paradise’s most complex case to Paradise’s most short-tempered man.”
“First you’re heartless, now you’re short-tempered? I’m starting to believe Mr. Yorke is a bad influence on you, Nathaniel. You even look different. There’s… something about you I can’t quite put my finger on, but that wasn’t always there.”
“Yes, I know. Trust me, I feel it too—just how noticeable is it? Because I’m not in the mood for a scandal right now. I think Salus would kill me, to be honest.”
“Oh, it’s only apparent up close, so if you keep your distance, you should be fine. There’s no need to alert Salus; we both know he has enough on his plate as it is. As for your curiosity, maybe you could get Jay to read you the file; I’m sure whatever you need to know will be in it.”
“Oh my god, the file. How didn’t I think of that? It’s so obvious.”
“It seems your thoughts are very much clouded, after all.”
For the first time, crossing The Court’s main chamber prompted eyeballs to stare at him for longer than a second. What used to be complete disinterest had morphed into curiosity. The seraphim slowly turned on their axis as he walked past, judgmental, studying him like a lab rat. Thankfully, they remained silent.
In the back of the room, burning in holy fire, Jay hovered around, tending to their business. His approach immediately captured their attention, eyes wide, glancing him up and down. The lack of an envelope was immediately noticed.
“You’re early.” Jay’s voices were spectral, not always in unison. “You’re… different.”
“Yeah, I didn’t sleep last night,” Nathaniel confessed, although that most likely had nothing to do with what Jay had referred to. “I was hoping you could help me with this particular assignment. I’ve been running into some contradictions. They’re pretty minimal, but still scattered here and there, which feels uncharacteristic of Salus. He’s never assigned me such a chaotic case before.”
“Lord Salus isn’t overlooking this assignment; it was the gods themselves who appointed it to you.”
No way.
“Do you know which one it was?”
“War and Justice both.”
Of course it’d be the most controversial pair out there; what did he expect? War taking an interest wasn’t exactly a big surprise, considering Nathaniel’s career, but Justice getting involved was new, and a little worrying too, because he didn’t know what to expect from her. He was a man of action, not deliberation; he received orders and carried them out. This was the first time he’d looked into one of his assignments, only because it was so bizarre.
“Lord Salus is only involved as far as you’re concerned,” Jay explained, voices much better synchronized than a moment ago. “The reports reach him first, then pass onto War and Justice for further analysis. Any inquiry you might have can be sent to them, as I’m certain they will answer it, albeit in their own way.”
“Right.”
What was their angle? Justice’s involvement led him to believe Aiden really was a test, sent to teach him a lesson, which meant War probably expected it to be gruesome. Then again, War might only have gotten involved to annoy his sister, seeing as the two of them couldn’t go two minutes without getting on each other’s nerves.
When humans perished as a result of their own wrongdoings, Justice didn’t send them to Paradise for reassessment—this was a place of rest. If their time on Earth hadn’t been particularly charitable, but they hadn’t hurt others on purpose either, then they were simply sent back for a second run. Or third, or fourth and so on. If they needed to pay for their actions in blood and tears, however, they were sent to The Abyss for repentance and a trial, where Justice would hear their pleas and decide whether they deserved a second chance. Where did that put Aiden?
Instead of going back to the office, Nathaniel decided to cross the valley. Yes, the files on his desk needed managing, the preparations for tomorrow’s meeting hadn’t even been touched, and last night’s report hadn’t been written yet, but he couldn’t focus on any of that right now; not when Aiden’s assignment involved two of the gods and was easily the biggest event of his entire career. Perhaps the professionals of The Resort had gotten a hold of Aiden in this meantime and were sitting on critical information, something that would explain who he was and why he’d been chosen.
Nathaniel arrived early in the afternoon, under the warmth of the sun that filled him with life, wind blowing through his hair as he landed. It was easy to forget how good revitalization could feel when most of his time was usually spent indoors.
At the reception desk, he was told that Aiden should be leaving the circle of sharing, and as he turned to his right, Aiden was the first thing his eyes fell on, walking hurriedly in his direction. Aiden had spotted him first. The tension in his shoulders, the setting of his jaw and the slight scowl on his forehead were good indicators of his mood. Utterly calm and emotionally prepared to swallow all his feelings, Nathaniel walked in his direction, noticing what were probably the other members of the circle of sharing slowly trickle into the hallway. Aiden must’ve stormed out.
“This isn’t a fucking resort, is it?” Aiden spoke as they met, openly vexed.
It immediately rubbed Nathaniel the wrong way; the only ones who’d ever spoken to him like that were his superiors, but he very consciously let it slide. They were in public, after all, and the fact that Aiden wasn’t screaming was already fortunate. Aiden stopped a little too far into Nathaniel’s personal space.
“This is a fucking mental hospital.”
“This is a place for you to relax and take care of yourself,” Nathaniel explained, remaining perfectly calm. “You said you were lonely and bored, so I brought you company and activities.”
Residents casually passed them by, an indication of how low-key their conversation was and would hopefully remain. An angel followed in the back of the group, tall and bald, with a beard and glasses. The clipboard in one of his hands suggested he was the mental health professional who had led the circle of sharing. Nathaniel desperately needed to talk to him—alone.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too, but I just went to a fucking therapy session, dude. In a group! I’m just here to play tennis and spend time with you, not get fucking psychoanalyzed in front of everybody else.” The rant was definitely directed at Nathaniel, but fell on deaf ears as he watched the angel come over. The man noticed him promptly; it was impossible for Nathaniel to blend in. Still, no outward acknowledgement was displayed besides a fixed stare that he held in return.
“Then do something else, Aiden; you don’t have to be part of the circle,” he commented absently, forgetting that the moment he’d said it.
The angel passed him in silence, offering a nod. He reciprocated with one of his own, despite an intense need to excuse himself and pull this man aside. Had Aiden participated in the circle at all? What did this angel know?
“That’s not the point!” Aiden shouted, piercing through his head like a spear.
That got a look out of him, instinctive and shocked, with wide eyes that quickly focused down on Aiden. Instead of meeting brown eyes that looked back at him, however, Nathaniel saw Aiden take notice of the angel nearby, a difficult sight to ignore. Aiden motioned to him, speaking loudly to resume his point.
“This guy! He tricked me! He brought me here under the guise of a council meeting, not fucking therapy.”
Nathaniel’s heart damn near stopped with the way Aiden had referred to this celestial; he could feel the size of his own eyes, blood draining from his entire body. He’d never been so sorry before. Like a general whose squadron had just disrespected another general, he wanted, more than anything, to apologize for even allowing Aiden to exist. Aiden was still his responsibility, despite everything.
“Aiden—” He didn’t even know what to say, letting the name drop and his mind go blank.
“It was a council meeting,” the angel explained, calm and centered. His approach caused the others to circle him. “But I realize that the word council might have different connotations for you than it does for us, and for that I’m sorry; it was not my intention to mislead you.”
“Oh, sure, so playing tennis with me and having lunch together had nothing to do with your little plan to analyze me all day.”
“Aiden, behave,” Nathaniel warned sternly, in the only way he could think of to de-escalate the situation without getting physical, except, of course, it just made Aiden angrier.
“Richard is a fucking liar!” Aiden shouted. It took the entirety of Nathaniel’s self-control not to deck him right in the face. The lack of respect here was simply unacceptable. “Don’t tell me what to do if you’re not gonna listen to what I’m saying!”
“I apologize for coming across that way,” Richard cut in, “but it was simply a fault in communication. The circle of sharing is a safe space for those who’d like to air out grievances that would otherwise not come up in conversation. You said you had a lot to talk about; that’s why I suggested the circle. There were no ulterior motives in that invitation.”
“I meant I wanted to talk to you, not a bunch of other people who I don’t even know! I thought…” Aiden faltered, eyes wide, a hint of color on his face. He thought what? A tut and Aiden shook his head, resuming the scowl. “You could’ve just told me other people would be there.”
“I’m sorry,” Richard reaffirmed, placing a hand on Aiden’s shoulder. Something buried deep inside Nathaniel’s chest really hated to see that. It just really hated looking at it. “Perhaps we could continue that conversation in my office later today. I promise there won’t be a group waiting for you this time.”
Aiden scoffed in response, but there was a tug on the corner of his lips and a comedic eye roll that made the inside of Nathaniel’s chest twist. What did Aiden have to say to Richard that the public couldn’t know? What did Aiden think was happening there? Was there something happening? His throat closed.
Richard was just doing his job; taking Aiden to group therapy, offering him a private session, trying to disguise it all as just two friends having a very deep and uncomfortable conversation in Paradise—there was nothing there. Nathaniel didn’t know what he thought was happening, but was clearly reading it wrong; Richard was an ally. Richard was pure. Still, when the hand on Aiden’s shoulder pulled away, his lungs breathed in a little easier.
“You know where to find me,” Richard concluded, taking a step back. A quick glance up at Nathaniel, a nod, and the angel left.
Despite everything, Richard’s departure cleared out the strange feeling in his chest, allowing his shoulders to relax and his pulse to resume normalcy. Weird and unnamed, not something he could recall ever happening. At this point, that was just another abnormality added to the list of bizarre sentiments that surrounded his every interaction with Aiden. It was probably nothing.
“Thought you’d be coming over after five,” Aiden remarked, voice back to normal.
“Yeah, I was. Aiden, listen.” Here, Nathaniel lowered his tone to keep the conversation between them, just above a whisper. “You can’t talk to authorities like that. I know he wronged you, but that’s no excuse; we practice respect in Paradise.”
Surprisingly, his blood didn’t boil during the lecture, and he didn’t feel like strangling Aiden to drive the point home. Maybe it was the atmosphere in The Resort, or how Richard had kept his cool the whole time, but he found himself perfectly centered.
“I know, I just—I lost it, okay? We spent all day together and I thought he was a friend. I lashed out. I thought he was already double-crossing me.”
“He’s an angel; he’s not going to double-cross you. We all hold your best interest at heart.”
“Yeah, well.” A pause, and Aiden seemed exhausted all of a sudden, shoulders shrugging lifelessly. “I don’t know if that makes it any better, to be honest.”
“What do you mean?”
“If everyone’s supposed to like me, I won’t be able to know if they actually do. Like, how can I tell if you’re just talking to me because you have to, or because you want to? I can’t; there’s no way to tell. It—it kind of makes things impossible for me.”
“Why not always assume that everybody likes you? It’s not necessarily wrong and saves you the trouble of second-guessing everything that happens to you. You’ll be able to focus on something else then; something that actually matters.”
Aiden gave him a look. Unreadable, of course. When had he ever successfully gotten a hold of what Aiden felt? There was no one worse at it.
“Okay.” Aiden nodded, small, with eyes that held the stare and, for the first time, didn’t search his face for the truth. “I can do that. It’ll make me feel irresistible, but you know. It’s probably true.”
A scoff in lieu of laughter from his part, because that was actually pretty cute. “Now I’m not so sure I gave you the right advice.”
“You never do, but I still like you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Good for you.” A smile, sharp and wicked, but that still spread this warmth across his chest somehow.
On a whim that sprung out of nowhere and took him by storm, he wanted to take Aiden’s arm, pull him close and whisper in the one inch between them, noses brushing, if he didn’t want to get out of here. Leave the public eye and escape out the back door, past the pools and tennis courts, across the meadow and down the hill, where they were no longer observed and he could hold Aiden flush to his chest, breath catching, a shine in Aiden’s eyes. It was strong—stronger than anything he’d ever felt, buried deep in his heart, so genuine it overwhelmed him. He’d never been swept by an emotion so fierce, so inordinate, caused by somebody else. Maybe once, actually, but that had been different; this was something else. This washed him ashore, let him gasp for breath and immediately pulled him back in, dragging him across the sand, deep into the ocean. In his chest, in the air that he breathed, there was an urge to draw Aiden away from the rest of the world and keep him.
Lightheaded and shaky, Nathaniel decided it was time to go.
“You should see Richard in his office.” He pushed the words out with effort, putting a quizzical look on Aiden’s face. His head tilted just a bit to the side, like a puppy, and Nathaniel’s chest ached, breath coming in short. He had to leave. “You know, while he’s still available. I have to go.”
“I thought you came here to see me.”
That just about killed him.
“Yeah, but I can’t stay. I’ll be back tonight,” he explained, speaking in a hurry, turning to leave. “Just try not to sleep with him.” That last comment spluttered past his lips so fast that his brain never even caught it.
His thoughts scattered in a million pieces. The files in his hands brimmed with interlacing words and moving numbers, incomprehensible because every half-sentence brought him back to Aiden, safe in his arms, squeezed tight against his chest; cedar wood in his lungs, the ocean at their feet. The hand on Aiden’s shoulder, Richard looming over him. He should’ve stayed this morning, played tennis with Aiden and walked him to lunch, listened to him talk about his passions and favorite trivialities, the low of his voice like a serenade, the warmth of his eyes like a hearth in the bed of his chest.
Was Richard going to be Aiden’s psychologist? He should probably send Richard a letter, if that was going to be the case, asking for reports on each session and inclusion in every discussion that involved Aiden, since he was responsible for him. Yes, he was going to do that, and cleared out some space on his desk for the letter, adding in a respectable apology for Aiden’s behavior earlier today; he was still getting used to trusting everyone around him. It was a foreign concept to him. Wrapped in a golden envelope, the letter was delivered to Jean, who did most of the transport between the two sides of the valley, instructed to deliver this one directly to Richard’s own hands. Would Jean walk into the two of them being intimate? He doubted Richard would put that in today’s report.
Outside, the golden hour bathed the clouds in light and shone on the surface of the water, spreading across the tiles in his office. It had no doors, only two parallel walls on the front and back of the room, columns in place of the remaining walls and long curtains in between them, fluttering with the breeze, thinner than air. Today’s files had been pushed to the corner of his desk, only going to be assessed after the meeting. Right now, it was far more important to get ready for that than anything else. If Charmaine caught him slipping a second time in front of the board, he’d definitely be forced to retire, which was the last thing he’d ever want to have to live through, because defending Paradise was what he’d been born to do. He’d built his entire life around it.
As Paradise’s spokesperson, Charmaine was in constant communication with The Abyss. Whatever decisions she made had to go through the board first and the lords second. Nathaniel’s position as Lord Salus’ Representative was supposed to remind the board that Paradise’s safety was their priority, so he formulated his thoughts around that, a neat little list to help him remember his speech.
The sky was a concoction of varying shades of blue, purple and orange when Jean came back with a letter for him, politely knocking on one of the columns. The fact that the sun had just gone down told him he still had time to finish tomorrow’s preparations before stopping by The Resort again. With a brief thank you, he opened the letter.
To Nathaniel, Archangel, Legatus
Mr. Yorke never made it to my office today. I suppose the misunderstanding from earlier put him off and I apologize for that. I heard from Ophelia, the fencing coach, that he spent most of his afternoon with her instead. From her account and what you’ve told me, it’s clear to me that Mr. Yorke has a very difficult time trusting others and opening up to them, which may make Ophelia the most inconspicuous physician on the case and the best to treat him. It might be fruitful to refer to her for future communication.
Best regards,
Richard, human care, M.D.
Why did Aiden skipping his meeting with Richard bring wind to his lungs? Nothing would’ve happened. Aiden was his own person, anyway; he could do whatever he wanted. A thorough analysis on him was what really mattered right now, overdue at this point, and seeing Richard earlier would’ve sped up his checkout from The Resort, but Nathaniel supposed that an undercover evaluation with Ophelia would be just as well. It might even be the better option, so Aiden wouldn’t get distracted. He’d send her a letter right away if he weren’t headed to The Resort in only a few hours.
By the time he was done with tomorrow’s preparations, the moon had long come out, crescent and brilliant up above, peering from behind the clouds to color Paradise in sparkling silver. With files stacked on his desk and books still in piles on the floor, he crossed the office for the stone path outside. The moment he stepped under the moonlight, his eyes fell on the three interlacing halos that he knew so well, and the big, puffy red dress that almost looked burgundy in the dark. A ways down the path, Charmaine stood patiently, watching him come down to meet her.
“Are you going to make a fool of yourself tomorrow?” she asked as soon as they met, accompanying him along the path.
“No, of course not; that was a one-time occurrence. You know that’s not how I operate.”
“Considering how unpredictable you’ve become throughout the week, I’m not so confident I know that anymore.”
A tut, an eye roll, and that put a playful smirk on her face. “Did you figure out who assigned Mr. Yorke to you?” she asked.
“Yes, and before you say it, it wasn’t Salus—it was the gods.”
“Oh, I know it wasn’t Salus; he’s as worried over this as you are. I don’t know why, and I don’t plan to know, but everything suggests a good reason for that. Perhaps Mr. Yorke is part of a much bigger plan.”
If Lord Salus was panicking, then this was infinitely bigger than he’d thought and his unusual concern was completely justified. He should worry.
“Did Loquela tell you that?”
“I’m not at liberty to say,” Charmaine answered with a half-shrug and a pointed glance, coy in a way that told him he’d shot straight for the money. At this point, it really didn’t surprise him just how much closer she was to her lord than he was to Salus. He’d never really learned how to pursue a healthy friendship, after all.
“Which god was it?” she asked, icy blues pearly white in the moonlight.
“War and Justice together. The fact they’ve been reading my reports is so nerve-wracking that I haven’t managed to write another one. It’s already overdue, and I don’t have time for it tonight; I just know I won’t be able to get it done. For the first time in my life, I’m going to miss a deadline.”
“Always worried about the little things, always taking it all so seriously. You’re one of a kind and we love you for that.” The tone of her voice was light, unconcerned. “Everyone’s missed a deadline or two, Nathaniel; don’t worry yourself sick. I’m sure Salus will understand. I don’t know about the others, but Salus will.” She talked as they followed the path down the hill, going for a leisurely stroll rather than flying off to their respective destinations.
“Remember when you were just another angel with a dream?” she asked. “A frail little thing in the military, swinging a spear around with a much better chance of hurting himself than actually throwing it. Who knew you’d become the next Heracles? Well, you did, I’m sure, but I have to say that, watching from the sidelines, nobody thought you’d make it. You’ve really surprised us. How quickly you proved yourself, and how fiercely the gods trust you to carry out such monumental projects now. In a way, it feels like we met only yesterday, but also like I’ve known you my whole life.”
“We’ve been working together for a pretty long time now. You’re family to me.”
“It must be why I feel like a mother.”
A good-humored scoff left him, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
“Just promise me you’ll focus tomorrow; I can’t afford to have you embarrass yourself again. At least, not this time. Loquela will be there.”
That was odd. The whole point of the board was so that the lords didn’t have to come all the way down to intervene.
“Why?”
“Because there’s going to be another war.”
“It’s been three months—”
“I know,” she cut in, harsher, louder, turning to shoot him a look, icy and sharp. “Trust me, I know that better than anyone.”
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