Blood.

Red. Dark. Metallic scented. Blood.

It's everywhere.

Drops and puddles of it on the cold cemented floor. There's hand prints and scratch marks on the door when she tried to escape. There's also some on the wall and she can't help but smirk knowing that particular spot right there, at the corner near the hinges of the door, weren't stained by hers.

Amara looks up. Her arms were cuffed up, the metal bruising and tearing the skin. A pale sickly yellow was left on what used to be a healthy honey colored flesh. There's already dried blood marks on her arms. She tried to stand up to relieve the pull on her arms and shoulders but her body felt heavy. Her wings were soaked with sea water and she can't help but wince at the dry, grainy feeling of it as it dries up. Not to mention the scratches and wounds it has. She could already imagine her wing looking off white with splashes of deep red and light pink. What she wouldn't give for a shower.

The door creaks open. There's that ear-splitting squeak of protest of the rusted hinges. May be she could break the door this time.

"Well hello there, my dearest angel!"

The woman in a dark pencil skirt and bright formal suit comes in, she was quite aged, probably on her mid-fifties. Her gray hair that was streaked with white was in a elegant bun. Her symmetric face powdered and she had applied an eyeliner and dark red lipstick. A man in a light colored casual suit followed her in, this one was much younger, probably just in his late twenties or early thirties. His face all perfect angles and his body muscular. But despite his put together attitude and almost spotless face there's a light mismatch of color on his left cheek and a white bandage on both of his hands. She can feel a devious smile tugging her lips.

"My dear Sorin, you look well." Amara teased, her voice breathy but it doesn't diminish the effect.

He looked away and hid her arms. He almost turn tailed and left but was stopped by the elder woman.

"Ah, Mother! I would say I'm delighted to see you but I really prefer the mice" Amara remarked, fiercely meeting the eyes of her mother

"You think, you're so smart," her mother's brittle thin voice echoing in the room, her eyes looking down at her "but all you are is pathetic."

"Pathetic, is letting your shallow bigoted mindset rule my life."

"You could've picked any angel in our realm, a mortal would've been better than that scheming devious snake!"

"Death is kind and gentle. He is loving and every good thing you could never be." Amara spat out.

"Death is corruption of life. Like he has corrupted the mortals. Like he has corrupted you." Her mother insisted with steely eyes, coldness radiating to her blue eyes making it paler almost silver.

"He took care of me -- comforted me when I couldn't save that mortal child!" Amara could feel the flame of anger and resentment growing in her veins "He loved me when you could never have" she finished darkly

"I suppose you still insist on not telling us his weakness then?" Her mother asked dryly

Weakness?

Amara would've laughed aloud if only she wouldn't risk puncturing a lung. Angels can heal themselves but the cuffs on her hands were restricting her to do so.

"I have nothing to tell." Amara smirked, her warm brown eyes turning dark, challenging her mother to make a move.

Without a second thought, her mother lunged at her, hands strangling her neck. Amara headbutted her. Her mother's head fell on her shoulder, unmoving.

She looked at her without remorse before turning her head to Sorin who was pale-faced and was watching everything happened.

She smiled at him sweetly, "I think you better call the medic, don't you?"

Sorin ran pathetically and out of the door. His mind clearly fogged and unfocused as he barely managed to swing the door open without slipping on the blood.

With a huff and grunt, she tried to rearrange herself. If she was wrong about this, she have to suffer another three days before her lover realized something awful had happened. And no matter how unfairly hot the image of him wreaking havoc to free her, there's really a lot of good people in her realm and a beginning of an inter-realm war is not how their reunion should be. And so with great difficulty she managed to maneuver her mother, supporting her weight as she try to stand up and have her hand touch the shackles on her wrists.

The shackles broke and disintegrated like stardust and Amara can't help the sigh of relief that leaves her as she carelessly let her mother plop down to the cold floor.

With an inhale she could feel her body healing the major internal injuries, it was a tortuously slow process given her blood loss but she had to keep moving. Amara sauntered weakly to the door that idiot Sorin left open and unattended.

She managed a weak smile before she sprinted out of the dilapidated shack and weakly flew to her lover.


Death could confidently say that he could hardly be surprised anymore. He had lived a long life. Seen how empires were built and how they fell. He's also seen the stupidest way mortals die and live. In conclusion, he has seen it all and nothing could possibly stun him.

Then again there is that beautiful angel called Amara that have managed to take his breath away just by looking at him. There's a fire and rebellion in the softness of her skin and the warmth of her eyes that he can't just look away from. So, really, he shouldn't be surprised when she have managed to shock him yet again only this time it wasn't as pleasant.

She was in his bed. Her red fiery hair a tangled mess when it was usually curly and braided back. There's dried and fresh blood on her skin and tattered soiled white dress, bruises in almost every area but judging by how some of the cuts were closing, she was thankfully healing. But that doesn't mean he wasn't worried and panicking internally as she talks casually about how he should take her to the place where he gets his mattress because it's comfy of all things!

"You're early," Death eloquently says causing her to stop her rambling and laugh out loud

"Oh, lord, my rib!" she groaned in pain as she try to stop laughing leaving him gawking at her.

"I'm sorry," she wasn't, judging by the mirth in her eyes "My mother has locked me in a dilapidated shack and kept asking for your weakness for almost a week now, I had to escape."

"She what?!" he exclaimed, his brain finally catching up causing him to move across the bed into his bathroom to acquire his healing kit.

"She's an idiot really and that spineless Sorin even tried to force himself on me --"

"Tell me you killed him."

Ah there it was. Amara thought as she looked at him softly. His alabaster skin was glowing at it soaked in moonlight, from the floor to ceiling windows where she entered. His dark eyes which was always thoughtful was surprisingly darker and murderous. His thin lips was in a straight line. And she remembered why she fell in love with Death.

While almost every book described him as calloused and uncaring he was far from being so. He was introverted and mostly closed off, sure, but he felt strongly for everything even though time should've crawled in his heart and made it a rock. He loves fiercely, cares fully and now. Now, she knew if she wasn't there in his sight the whole realm would quake in his anger.

"I didn't, " she softly said as she reached for his hand ignoring the pain on her side as she does so, "But I managed to scratch his face, dislocated both of his wrists and made his knuckles bleed before my mother got to the room and restrain both my power and my arms. I think I have terrified the man that he can barely look at me."

"I'll kill him. I'll kill both of them" he stated as he went to her side, methodologically applying salve on some wounds and bruises and gently righting her on the bed so she could sit up without crushing her wings.

"Now, now, I don't want to share realms with such disgusting creatures when I finally move in here, you know how I get." she chastise playfully earning a small grin from him before he warned her that he's going to have to fix her dislocated wing. A distraction really so she wouldn't see the blush on his cheeks at the implication of her living with him. Living with Death isn't really something people or anyone would've considered a good thing. Having an angel look forward to it was not far from... heart fluttering.

He cleared his throat and realigned the wing forcefully.

She cursed in the air and almost fell to the floor if not for Death supporting and holding her body from doing so.

"You have to lay on your stomach so you wouldn't do more damage on your wing." he muttered, giving her a new set of clothes "The rest should be taken care of your normal healing, I'll be on the other room if you need any assistance."

He breaths out then turned to leave

"Wait!" Amara shouted "Can't we -- sleep together? Just sleeping?"

"I -- well -- your wings- "

"Is a great blanket." she finished with a huff her eyes turning almost amber in amusement, "Is Death scared of a little angel?"

He walked towards her, and leaned close, caressing her soft cheeks, his voice thick with unspoken love "You terrify me so,"

"Stay." she said pleading "Stay with me."

"Always." he reassured her before turning away to let her clothed herself.

He removes the black tunic that he regularly wears in his home, Amara gaped at the muscled paper white skin. It was always covered with long sleeves and that lengthy robe that hides the ripples of muscles and makes him look thinner than his usual lean form. Maybe, that's where the mortals and the angels gets that sickly, boney figure they represent him as, she distantly thought as she finished clothing herself. Instantly, she smelled the scent of old books, parchment and ink with the hint of cinnamon; it smelt like home.

"Do you know, you smell like home?" she asked suddenly as Death was just laying down on his side of the bed.

"I -- uh -- well... no." he answered lamely.

"Well, you do." she insisted as she lay down on her stomach, moving closer to Death until she can rest her head on his chest and his arms were around her.

"I love you, Amara. From the heights of heaven until the depths of hell." He promises

"I love you 'till death do us part" she smiled at him playfully.

"Really?" he asked unamused

"It means forever. I don't think Death will want us to part. Don't you think so?" she said wriggling her brows causing him to bark out a laugh.

"Yes, I think he doesn't want this to end."

"Good. Now, sleep."

And for the first time in thousands of years, Death felt so much alive.


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Thanks for reading! Comments and constructive criticism are welcomed. This was inspired by a prompt in which Death says to a character "You're early. " and I was like why not? Since I didn't have the inspiraton to write anything else.

All characters, mistakes, events are from my head. I wish I could say I thought this through but I didn't. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.

Love lots!

#angels #death #Happyending #shortstory #lovestory
© Drei A.