Everything was alright.
Alexander was fine, Wilbur was fine—everything was fine.
It was almost like someone had flipped a switch, everything just fell into place and seemed to work out in the end, it was magical. Both Hester and Alexander couldn't explain it, even as they walked up the stairs to the main floor of the house—it started to really feel like home.

"Hello mate," Hester said cheerfully, Wilbur getting hastily up from the floor drawing barreling over to hug Hester.

"I missed you too." He said calmly

Rubbing Wilbur's back, even as he clinged on to Hester's leg like a lifeline squishing his face into the cloth of his pants and cloak that wrapped around him. He heard Alexander from behind him put his bag and axe away, weaving around the two of them trying to get to the ladder, Hester was about to let him go but,

Wilbur grabbed him as he walked by, the cuff of his sleeve pulling on it as much strength as a child could muster, none. Alexander turned, him seeming to be just as startled as Hester was. "Why don't you stay down for a bit?" Hester said quietly, looking at Alexander—Wilbur had clearly missed both of them greatly, Alexander stared slightly confused for a moment then said.

"I would like that very much."

And just like that.

Everything was perfect.

Hester started on making food immediately, as Alexander stayed with Wilbur to watch him. They were all in the same cramped room, but finally they were all together in it, physically and mentally Alexander was acknowledging Hester and in turn so did he, and Wilbur—Wilbur seemed over the moon to finally have company with him again, he went to bed with Hester and in the morning he was gone—Hester will make sure it never happened again.

The evening was spent telling stories and having warm food as the wind blew whipping around the house. The cold weather seemed to angrily bite at the walls but inside the fire crackled flickering with wood, worked far too hard for just to be used now—but it seemed all worth it. The flames ricocheted off the glass windows and the eyes of Wilbur, making the yellow honey colour turn into a brilliant orange as Alexander sat next to him, obeying to every single command Wilbur wanted, even as Hester half-heartedly joked about him becoming spoiled.

"Hester, where did you put all of Wilbur's drawings?"

Alexander asked simply, cutting short a comment Hester made to tease Alexander's 'unhealthy addiction to reading' as he put it. "Uh, should be right over there," He said, not even glancing behind him, pointing towards a table, then reiterating "Under the book, I think."

Alexander found them immediately, shuffling through the loose parchments cross legged on the floor with Wilbur looking over his shoulder like a vulture—until making a sound of protest when he went past the one he wanted Alexander gave the drawing and was about to put the rest away when something caught his eyes on the page—a small circle with a sword in the middle, and with two very detailed wings to each side of it—it didn't look like something Wilbur could draw but Alexander still couldn't help but be in a slight amount of awe of the details in it.

"Wilbur, how did you make this?" Hester heard Alexander ask, still marveling at the drawing, he must have traced it, there's no doubt about that—but Alexander was more interested in where he found it. He had seen the symbol somewhere—but he didn't think it was on the cover of one of his books, he would most likely have remembered the name of it, if it was.

Alexander leaned his head ever-so-slightly as Wilbur looked at the page for a moment then bounced off to the other side of the room next to Hester, who almost paid no attention as he cleaned up the dishes from the meal they had. As Wilbur searches for something next to Hester, he finds whatever he was looking for and proudly hands it to Alexander, smiling wide that he could find it all on his own.

It was a dark green envelope with an unbroken purple wax seal with lo-and-behold the same exact symbol, a sword with two small wings on the sides of it, except—how did this get here? Alexander thought very confused.

"Hester, do you know where this came from—?"

Alexander said but never got to finish, the question died in his mouth as he saw Hester's eyes.

It showed nothing but pure and true fear.

"That's. . ." Hester started breathless, looking pale like he was about to throw up.

He grabbed the envelope violently Alexander recoiled back at the speed he took it from, looking on in horror, Wilbur and Alexander both heard Hester rip the envelope in two—four—six small pieces and threw it in the flames as it turned from a pristine white to a black and then finally gray turning to ash. Alexander swears he saw the seal with the symbol on it vanish instead of melt, but it was probably just his eyes deceiving him.

"Hester, what was that for?"

Alexander said slightly confused and a little annoyed at being out of the loop for whatever reason, Hester replied seemingly numb.

"That letter,"

Hester said quietly staring far behind Alexander—looking to an invisible horizon.

"Was from Lady Death, she wants to meet me."

His eyes burn into Alexander's skin, scorching him from the outside in.

"And I say no."

And just like that.

It all came crashing down.

«»«»«»«»«»

. . .Thumb—thumb—thumb, The Angel's eyes shot open from the noise, it sounded like knocking but for one terrifying moment he thought it was cannon fire, he doesn't remember the dream he was having, only that it was a nightmare.

The Angel turned his head to the other side of his pillow, it was small but it was his, unlike some of his other family members, he closed his eyes again trying to get to some sleep then,

Thumb—thumb—thumb, this time the Angel gritted his teeth in annoyance. This time giving up on sleep entirely and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness blinking away spots from his vision as the light from the moon seeps into his room as he lets his mind wake up. His brain, not understanding and being muffled by sleep—or lack thereof, silently lifts the sword he kept next to his bed and walks up to his door, pushing his ear to it trying to hear breathing, nothing, looking down trying to see any light coming from below, once again nothing.

Getting very frustrated and cranky now the Angel swung the old oak door open and was about to slice through whatever poor unfortunate soul decided to wake him at this hour.

He was bruised, tired and stressed. It seemed like less than a week ago he had just become an Angel, and he was already sick of it. If anyone decided to bother him they might as well put their own head on a steak just to save the trouble.

He poked his head from his room and saw no one, not a single person in sight, it was the middle of the night everything was dead at this time, the whole world resting and once it was daytime—Taunts and teasing the Angel until he snapped.

He hopes it's soon.

He looks up and down the hallway—it being empty other than different doors on either side of the walls for the older people of his family, one side ending in a window letting the stubborn moonlight coming down and coating the area in the soft blue, the other side going downstairs and the rest of this Gods forsaken mansion—or as the Angel prefer to think of it Hell hole—it had a nice ring to it.

Stepping out still not backing down from the sick individual wanting him to lose his mind, his bare feet stepped on something crunchy the noise reverbing across the hall, looking down seeing a letter he could barely identify from the darkness, dark green with a wax seal with something he couldn't quite make out in the darkness, what a lovely trick this will be, the Angle thought wanting to burn the letter right then and there, but still fool heartedly cracked the seal open walked over to the window and read the letter by the moonlight. He started to read it

I hope you have been doing well Angel, I would be pleased to see you at the blackstone pagoda, if everything works out I hope to see you there.

Do not be in fear, Angel.

The Angel stared at the parchment, his brain seeming to shut off to the very small and lackluster amount of words on the page, the idea of this being a trick being swept away by a wild desperate hope, that he could see her again, he could talk to her again—it seemed too good to be true.

But he still had to try—had to at least try and see her. Technically it wasn't a restricted section of the garden anymore he had already been there right?

Quickly getting shoes and a candle he descended the old wooden stairs and walked through the giant rooms until making it to the garden sweeping through the rows and rows of herbs, ascending the stone stairs leading to the same place he would never admit but felt like home

And there she was.

Standing in the middle of the pagoda seemingly glowing with her tan skin and impenetrable black hair with dark gorgeous eyes, Death didn't seem to notice the Angel walking through the flowers weaving in and out—until he stepped on one, the stem snapping from the impact Death slightly moved her eyes away from the moon, her stoic appearance stayed even as the Angel froze with terror at what he had just done.

"It's ok,"

She said gently.

"Come closer to me, Angel."

«»«»«»«»«»

"Come back to me, Hester." Alexander seemingly demanded, having a death grip on Hester's shoulder, shaking it. Hester was numb to everything.

Even as Wilbur cried loudly and pulling at Hester's feathered wings Alexander loosened his grip slightly as Hester began surveying his surroundings, and yelped as Wilbur grabbed and twisted a feather Hester flapped them subconsciously to the ache he now feels in them stretching them and feeling the fire behind him.

"Are you feeling—?"

"I'm fine."

Hester said doubtfully, not even trying to secure the lie, after everything, he was still being hunted. He thought they might have given up by now—never checked the place for his remains or never thought he could make it out alive at all; it didn't seem to matter. Because he was free now, apparently not.

"I'm not going back to her,"

Hester said simply, boldly even as he splintered from the idea of being able to see her. Alexander nodded wordlessly agreeing to the statement, a silent promise was made between the two. Even as Wilbur clung to Hester like a life line it was still a distant feeling.

"I'm never going back to her."

Alexander sighed dramatically like thinking of some horrible idea they had to follow through on.

"I suppose you could stay a little longer."

Hester would have been worried if it wasn't for the small smile Alexander made when looking at Wilbur and him, he clearly enjoyed both of their companies even after the week of nothing but hatred building up, all it took was one simple talk about it. It still confused both how easily their relationship was rebuilt like a bridge over water, stronger than before, and made to last.

Hester just hoped it would last long enough.

Alexander had no idea what he was getting into. He had to tell him.

"Mate," Hester started holding Wilbur gently, all still sitting on the wooden floor. "It's going to be dangerous keeping me around, y'know?"

"You say that like you haven't tried to stab me before—"

"You tried too as well!"

"Fighting and defending are two very different things."

"Oh, thank you I really had no idea at all."

A beat rang out, as the two enjoyed each other's companionship, the night—even after the note crumpling in the flames behind them, seemed not too much of a problem with them by each other's side, nothing seemed like much of a problem now.

"You're welcome."

Alexander said softly as he got up from the floor, turning away he said it not looking to Hester or Wilbur "And, thank you too." He climbed the ladder to his room and latched the trapdoor closed. Hester paused, his eyes drifting to the alive and crackling fire—nothing would survive long if it was tossed into it. Yet that barely stopped the feeling of dread welling up in his stomach like stones on his chest.

He went to bed, trying to stop the persistent and recurring nightmares coming back up to swallow him whole as he drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

Death was waiting for him.

She never got a response.

And she was starting to get desperate.

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Art by Raiain⛈️🍇 on X
WELL GET READY-but honestly, I'm very excited for the next few chapters! ( ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠) I feel like no matter what though I just can't get Wilbur's character right, I don't know, maybe it's because he's so young? Or that he can't fully articulate himself yet, I don't know, main gist sorry If Wilbur's a little clunky as a character lol
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