Chapter Text
This time, the day off was inevitable. With no ghosts to kill, no paperwork to do, and no heavenly duties to pay attention to, Ramie found it unavoidable.
Yet as he got out of bed, as he sat down across the vanity, he weighed his options.
As of a couple days ago, before the revolt, he would have expected his children to sleep further past sunrise, but Ramie now knew better. Still, he assumed they’d be lazing around somewhere, chattering or completing some meaningless task disguised as meaningless fun.
Yet as he left his room, Ramie found that his sons were once again nowhere to be found. There was another plate of breakfast on the table, which wasn’t very new.
Ramie had learned that Esteriel clearly cooked for him and his brother not just for breakfast, when they were bleary and tired, but throughout the day. Urethaniel also kept his brother on a high pedestal, stating that he really did know how to cook well.
It was true, Ramie supposes. Although they had no flaws, no real reason to eat, his son was an acceptable cook. Ramie had never noticed it before, more focused on making him an acceptable soldier. In the end, what did it matter? They’d simply be better off not eating at all.
Ramie ended up finding his soldiers in the garage, large door wide open as the chilly winter air poured in. They both wore much too thin clothing, enough for moving but not enough for covering. In any situation, a parent must have told their children to cover up when dressed like this around Christmas.
Ramie stayed silent.
Urethaniel noticed him first, grinning. He had a cardboard box in his hand, just one of them, and balanced it as he nodded towards his father.
“Your Highness. Did you already eat?”
They didn’t need to eat. No matter how much he stressed this to the boys, the fact that at the very least he didn’t need to eat, they seemingly always forgot.
Every meal, no matter how late or early he arrived, there was a plate waiting for him. And, well, wasting food must be a sin right?
Ramie nodded.
The jovial expression that crossed Esteriel’s face was almost mocking, in a way Ramie felt taunted. But then it wiped away quickly, and Esteriel turned to his brother. “What’s in the box?”
Urethaniel opened it, his own face taking on an apathetic gaze as he closed it back up. “Just old clothes.”
He threw the box towards his older brother, perhaps a bit too strongly, but Esteriel catched it casually. He placed the box in a corner, right next to the open door, where wind still blew leftover leaves from autumn inside.
Ramie watched, hands behind his back, and suddenly cleared his throat.
“Ah, what exactly are you two doing?” He asked quietly, watching the leaves whirl across the floor. His sons continued to toss around several things that can’t have been light. Urethaniel shrugged.
“We had a day off, so we decided to partake in some spring cleaning, your Highness.” He explained, shoving off some dust from another box before he opened it.
“Spring cleaning?”
“Ah, yeah…” Esteriel looked almost sheepish. “It’s a human term. It’s winter now, so we’re a bit late, but it qualifies for year round I suppose.”
“We have all our stuff down here, instead of up in heaven, since it’s all clutter up there. Although, we should have gotten rid of it all sooner.” Urethaniel sighed.
He opened another box, immediately went to close it, but something shining inside of it glinted in the light, and Ramie somehow found his hand shooting forward. Just before Urethaniel could throw the box, Ramie peered inside.
“Your old harp.” He said stoically, as stoically as he could, as he reached forward and grabbed the old thing. It still shined, just a bit more dull than he remembered, he could almost visualise the tiny hands that used to carry it.
He remembered that day, when he demanded the boys learn an instrument. One day, they would lead souls up to heaven with their melodies, and they needed something to lead those lives upwards with. Esteriel immediately leaned towards the trumpet, even though he was a bit displeased at the idea of more pressure and more learning, and…
Urethaniel took his sweet time.
He remembers being irritated, annoyed that he was taking so long to pick an instrument. They were young, they had time to learn. They didn't have time to waste.
But yet, he let him. Perhaps a tender feeling he couldn't quite name. Even as Esteriel advanced, Urethaniel couldn't get the hang of just one instrument.
He remembers when the boy found his harp for the first time.
It was with his father, as Ramie dully urged the kid to just choose something. He was uncharacteristically stubborn, and it wasn't surprising to know where he got that from.
Ramie was losing his patience quickly. No matter what he held, he could see the look in Urethaniel 's eyes. The one that suggested no, he didn't want this. He needed something he'd be connected to.
Yet every time Ramie felt irritated, he couldn't help but remember the way that Urethaniel's eyebrows still scrunched up every time he'd fail at another musical instrument.
The way he'd look intently at his brother, already getting the hang of his talent.
He was pouting again, eyes glued to the floor, when Ramie finally showed him his instrument.
It hadn't actually been an offer, but a way to show him. It had been ages since Ramie actually played the harp, usually staying up in heaven and letting the lesser angels touch the disaster that was earth. But maybe it'd persuade Urethaniel, since he was so young. Truthfully, Ramie was at a loss of what else to do.
He hadn't been expecting the way his youngest angel's eyes lit up, watching the strings, watching the way his father weaved his fingers.
“Can I play that one?” He asked suddenly, as the melody faded out, so full of enthusiasm that it shocked his father. Gone, was the inanimate expression, now he only saw excitement.
Ramie was an angel of high power. Meant for greater things, made to manage greater things. Yet even he couldn't deny his youngest just this one thing.
And Urethaniel had been ecstatic, a natural at an instrument that was truthfully hard to learn so young. He was beyond jovial when he first got his own harp, small enough just for him. That day, he thanked his father so joyously it was like the boys didn't remember they were being forced to do this.
And now, several years later, here he was. Throwing it away this casually.
Ramie held it in one hand, staring, and then Urethaniel simply snatched it away.
It was disrespectful, at the very least. Ramie should have been offended, should have snapped at his son to show some courtesy. But Urethaniel had such a look of disdain on his face, looking at the harp.
“It’s hella old. No point in keeping ancient things around.” He shrugged, closing the box and tossing it to his brother. Like a supporting part of his childhood didn’t reside in there. Ramie tried to regain composure, tried to school his expression back to stoicism. But the look on his son's face was foreign, uninterested.
“You-” Loved that harp. “You admired the harp, a lot.”
“Yeah, well, I was young. Nowadays it’s my duty, no use in getting attached.”
Esteriel didn’t question the hostility, didn’t even turn his head, simply placed the box down in the corner with the rest.
And Ramie watched, as they dug up several artifacts and objects that the boys used to hold close to them as the few things they truly owned. He wasn’t even aware they owned so much, but here they were.
Eventually, Esteriel turned to his father.
“Your Highness, are you cold?” He frowned, gesturing to the door that was still wide open. The boys were still largely uncovered, and yet didn’t even seem slightly bothered.
Ramie was one of heaven's most powerful. He was to be feared. He didn’t get cold, temperature had no worldly effect on him.
Yet Ramie nodded, keeping his hands folded behind his back.
“I’ll be going inside.” He declared.
For some reason, he actually felt oddly cold.