Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air in Throne felt wrong. Back home, on Mykos, worlds away and years in the past- the air was clean. The smell of flowering duskwoods carried by far-off winds tempted from Nyave’s earliest memories. Before the queen burnt the forests, harvesting generations unplanted orchards for her palace of vanity. Just like she would have harvested me, Nyave thought. She tucked her orange shawl up over her mouth and nose. Even the ashes of Mykos smelled better than this.

Throne is unmistakable. The city of six hundred million souls, and half again as many bodies, reeked to high heaven. Considering that it is high heaven, or at least it once was, this wasn’t a terribly difficult accomplishment. It‘s not just one smell, Nyave mused, it’s the scent of people from across the multiverse cooking, brewing, fighting, and… making waste everywhere. Even on the deck of a floating ship high above the chilly, misty streets, there was no relief. Sometimes she imagined that it smelled a little bit like hope. The Yamga bobbed gently on its tether over the night-locked side of the city. Nyave couldn’t sleep.

Nyave had already checked the engines, the sails, every mechanical part of the ship and everything in working order. It Helped to have something to work on, something to focus on and shape with her hands. Work distracted from the dreams. Just over a month ago- Nyave gripped the deck railing. Barely more than a month had passed since Allison saved her life. That day, everything turned upside down. Years of studying to be a worthy handmaiden to that monster, Imperatrix Om. Years that would have ended, with my life, a tribute to her greed. That day, when I helped steal this ship and left home for good. Nyave shivered and looked down at her hands. She’d paid Allison back twice over, playing getaway pilot from Om herself. Since that day she’d grown to trust the strange Hero and her demonic companions. Trust didn't get rid of nightmares, though.

But also, that day, Nyave had met… her.

The glowing guardian of justice had plummeted out of the sky, just managing to latch onto the side of the ship. Nyave was even more amazed when Cio, a hijacking devil, called out to the angel as if they were partners in crime. 82 White Chain Born in Emptiness Returns to Subdue Evil. In all the nightmares replaying that moment when they came face-to-face with royalty, Nyave kept hold of one safe memory. As Queen Mottom summoned a storm of withering magical hatred, Nyave had held on to White Chain’s hand like an anchor. Her stone hand was ice-cold, but somehow felt just as alive as a human. Even in the terror and adrenaline of the moment, she couldn’t help but notice the gentle strength of White Chain’s grip.

White Chain was on the deck too, resting. At least that’s what it looked like. Allison and Cio were sleeping in the same room belowdecks while Princess, the other devil, tirelessly lifted weights through the night. The Angel sat cross legged at the prow of the ship, facing the multi-tiered center of the city. She hadn’t moved an inch even while Nyave had paced up and down the deck. Nyave pulled her shawl tighter around her and wondered if angels could dream.

The sons of white flame do not sleep. They do not eat. They especially do not dream. But sometimes they sit and rest. And sometimes they drift. White Chain felt herself falling out of her humanoid form, out of the material world. The blind eternity of the void expanded beneath White Chain’s ethereal wings. Ghostly structures, reflections of dead gods, loomed from the pallid landscape.

His voice was audible, even from here. A clarion of truth tuned to the frequency of insanity called from deep in the void. Metatron lives. White Chain glided through shadowy remains of ancient temples and petrified angel souls, unthinkingly drawn by the archangel’s voice.

Train the girl. Prepare for a war. Return the key to its rightful heir. Restore order to the multiverse. That is what matters, that is what is real. White Chain’s hue shifted from pink, to purple, to solemn blue. This is the right thing to do. This is justice. Then why does it feel like these humans-

“BROTHER”

The grating, familiar voice shattered White Chain’s thoughts. Before her unfolded the spiny, skeletal figure of 6 Juggernaut Star Scours the Universe, speaker for the thorns.

“Here to report your progress?” Juggernaut Star’s unmoving face stared down White Chain. “Your charge has been meddling in the affair of the demiurges. It would be unfortunate if you happened to lose control.”

“I have it under control, brother,” White chain met the fallen angel’s gaze. “The girl may not have earned that power, but for now she is its bearer. I will keep the key safe.”

“War is coming. The girl will perish, and so shall you if you mistake defending her for defending the key.”

White Chain bowed her head. She looked up at Juggernaut Star’s face and for a shadow of a second, saw something that wasn’t a thorned skull.

“LEAVE US. Return to you work, deviant,” Juggernaut Star turned away from the look in White Chain’s eyes. There was a rushing feeling, the uncomfortable stuffiness of physical form, as her soul began to ebb back into reality. The cold fire seeped back into her statue vessel, animating it by parts until White Chain could raise her hands to her head. She tried to forget who’s blood might be on them.

The Yamga was coasting into a new dawn. It must be another day. Gleaming mists rose from the city. White Chain straightened her back and began to re-center herself. She’d need a clear mind for the days ahead.

“Wisdom. Restraint. Emptiness. Wisdom. Restraint. E-“ She noticed something out of place.

A warm, orange cloth had been carefully laid across White Chain’s stone shoulders.

Chapter Text

Only one person aboard the Yamga knew any human first aid. Cio had a very specific knowledge of human anatomy, and Princess saw them as pieces of meat that happened to be cool enough not to eat yet. White Chain, as any angel, knew how to protect people from harm but was somewhat inexperienced in putting them back together afterwards. Allison had been a lifeguard at a public pool for one summer, five years ago. Besides, she was the injured one. Nyave had spent years studying disciplines from devil-tech mechanics to herbs and medicines to cross-species anatomy. She was not a healer or a doctor, but she had to do something.

So it happened that part of Nyave’s morning routine was tending to Allison’s injuries. Cio had slinked away to brood in the early morning, so the cabin was quiet as the ship sailed lazily into dawn. Allison slept restlessly, curled up under a twisted pile of blankets. The hazy sunlight made her bone-white hair glow gold. Ragged shadows fell across the girl’s- she was just a girl, wasn’t she- pale face. In the middle of the scar tissue, the key shone. That tiny bit of starlight embedded in her forehead that started this whole mess- is that really the kind of thing that makes people into heroes?

Nyave opened her makeshift first-aid kit and sat down next to the bed, letting her eyes shut for the first time in hours. Visions of raging devils and spiteful empresses flashed for a second on the back of her eyelids. Please, just a minute of dark and weightlessness before a new day. A noise- a short gasp from the bed. Allison was awake. Her bright eyes scanned the room as if she wasn’t sure it was real. They met Nyave’s gaze and relaxed into reality.

“Good morning, Allison,” Nyave reached down and brushed aside one of many stray, white hairs. “How did you sleep?”

“Better than you, looks like,” Allison’s eyebrows arched in concern, “you don’t have to lose sleep waiting for me to wake up every day.”

“I could always send Princess in to watch you. They don’t need to sleep,” Nyave reached into her pack and set a bandage roll and small jar of disinfectant on the cluttered bedside table.

“Ok, no thanks. Seriously, thank you. I don’t know how I’m going to pay you back for this,” She smiled. Their demonic companion was several things, “subtle” and “not intimidating to look at” were not among them. “Ow”

“You should be worried about yourself. White Chain‘s just going to get more nervous until you’re back on your feet. Speaking of which, you’re looking a lot better,” Nyave said as she lifted the bandage from the bridge of Allison’s nose and applied some of the ointment. It was true. The claw marks Cio had gouged across her face had faded to scabs and were fast on their way to just becoming scars.

“White Chain? Nervous? Are we talking about the same person?” Allison slid her legs over the side of the bed.

“You mean you can’t tell? Sit still I’m almost done.”

“I’ve barely gotten out of this bed for like a week, and she’s totally unreadable anyway.”

“And finished,” a clean bandage lay across the center of Allison’s face. “Nine days since your heist. I’ve been trying to move the ship so it feels right.” That was another thing about Throne. The broken sun meant day and night only happened if you were brave enough to make them yourself, traveling from shadow to light side of the disc.

“Isn’t that fucked up? We don’t even know what time it is…” Allison didn’t finish the sentence. Neither of them knew if they would ever see their homes again. They made eye contact, and Nyave gave a tired smile.

“The view is beautiful, though. As long as you don’t inhale too deep.”

“I know right! That’s the first thing I noticed when I got here,” Allison broke the tension, but there was still something unsaid hiding behind her eyes. Nyave put the first aid kit back in her bag and hopped onto the bed beside her friend.

“How did you end up on Throne in the first place?” Nyave’s warm, brown eyes reflected the light on Allison’s forehead.

“I was with Zaid, and… A lot of stuff happened. I think that asshole spiky angel was there. Before I knew what was going on I was here. I basically fell out of the sky onto White Chain.”

“Asshole spiky angel? Wait, White Chain was the first person you met here?”

“Yeah and she was a bit of a jerk! Well. She was herself.”

I don’t think she’s really been herself for a while, thought Nyave. She said:
“Angels are strange.”
The statement was certainly true. She didn’t know exactly what to expect but she hadn’t suspected one of the mythical guardians of the multiverse to be… like her.

“Definitely. She did save my life a few times, though,” Allison cracked her neck and stretched out her bandaged arms.

“I think we’ve both nearly died a few too many times to comfortably count,” replied Nyave. Just nine days ago, she’d nearly had her face torn off by a red devil before being barely piloting the Yamga away from a duel between two demiurges intent on destroying Allison and everything she cared about. Odd how she hadn’t felt afraid jumping in to action- it was the nightmares afterwards that really made the memory fearful. She wondered if Allison felt the same way. Heroes probably didn’t care about fear.

“Ha! I’ve lost count!” Allison smirked at Nyave. “God that’s a fucked up thing to lose count of…”

“Your training might be a good thing, then,” Nyave laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“I’m still not sure about it,” Allison’s hand closed into a fist. Nyave could the muscles tighten in her shoulder.

“I’m sure you can do, Allison. Besides, you have to.” Exhaustion created into Nyave’s voice.

“I know. I know I can, and I know what I need to do. It’s just something feels different.”

“I’m sure White Chain will do her best not to break all the bones in your arms,” Nyave offered.

“Not with her, me. She told me the tri-something mantra to focus on: wisdom, restraint, emptiness,” Allison ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m definitely not wise, and…” she trailed off.

Nyave bit her lip, looking out the window at the dawn city.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be empty of. I’ve been through all of this ‘cutting myself into greater shapes’ and ‘seeking thrones’ shit and I barely even know how to be myself,” she turned to Nyave, “We all barely even know each other.”

“We have time to learn.” Nyave extended a hand to help Allison up. “I’m not your handmaiden, but if you ever need to talk to another human I will be here.”

“Well actually,” Allison took her hand, ready to stand, “I don’t know who else to say this too.”

“Yes?” Nyave tilted her head, disheveled curls leaning to the side.

“Nyave, I think I’m a lesbian.”

“What? Is that an earth thing?”

Allison told her. A tension lifted.

“Oh! I think I might be too.”

Chapter Text

No one can out-brood Cio Cioelle Estrella Von Maximus (the 3rd). At least she liked to think so. Calm introspection does not come naturally to devils, so her sessions of isolated fuming at the general state of things were often marked with swearing, doodling, and fidgeting. But Cio worked hard at it, and that’s what counts.

Cio was perched on the Yamga’s mast, staring over the aft to the dark side of Throne. Grey smoke from her latest cigarette drifted away in the ship’s wake. It swirled and disappeared into smog. Her clawed fingers tapped an irregular rhythm on the wood.

She was clearly brooding. Why couldn’t that damn angel take a hint and go stare forlornly into the distance on literally any other part of deck. The blue glow from the top of White Chain’s head and joints absolutely did not fit the romantic aesthetic of the twinkling lights of the eternal city. And running her hands over that orange scarf? Distracting, couldn’t she tell that Cio had already filled tonight’s sentimentality quota? Apparently not. Well, there’s only one thing for it.

“Bugger off, tha. Can’t you see I’m moping here?” Her heart wasn’t in it.

The angel spun around, eyes scanning. Her expression shifted, becoming an unreadable mask. The pair held eye contact for a moment before either spoke. Cio raised one eyebrow.

“I apologize,” White Chain started, awkwardly shoving the scarf into a fold of her ridiculous baggy pants. She turned to walk to the prow of the ship.

“‘Tis fine.” Cio valiantly surrendered herself to the possibility of conversation. Sometimes it’s better to be alone with your troubles with a friend. At least she wasn’t one of those confusing humans. “What’s got tha up so early?”

White Chain hesitated again. “I’m... preparing.” Technically not a lie.

“For what?” Asked the blue devil, evidently not satisfied.

“What do you want?” The question almost surprised White Chain as she spoke it. Cio inched down the mast, her mouth stretching into a sad kind of smirk.

“I think I just want to be happy,” she said, taking another drag from her cigarette. Her yellow eyes cast down, down below the deck of the ship.

White Chain had raised a hand to her chin in contemplation. Happy. Compared to the scale of universal wars, god-kings, and the cold eternity of law holding out against limitless chaos, happiness was something she’d never really had room to acknowledge. It was a thing that happened to people. But it wasn’t for angels. Happiness was not counted in the fate of worlds. Maybe the rogue angels, the petal knights, felt happy- those who turned their back on the worlds and sold their strength to petty criminals. They appeared to have fun, reveling in the new flesh in ignorance of the higher calling of Metatron’s thorns.

She didn’t even know their name. The four-armed petal knight she’d fought mere days ago. White Chain had wanted to shatter their armor, nearly banishing that pathetic deviant. She stared at the thought. Thinking like a thorn. White Chain didn’t know what she wanted now, but she didn’t want to be one of them. It’s just that working with them is the only way, she scolded herself. Fortunately there was a chance to spare the rogue angel. She was lucky that Nyave- A cloud of tobacco smoke drifted into her face.

“I said What Do You Want?” Cio was eye to eye with the angel, her expression quizzical. “By Aesma it’s like talking to a statue,” She muttered.

“I do not want anything,” replied White Chain. “I have a purpose, and I will fulfill it.” The light of dawn broke over the ships bow.

“I thought tha couldn’t lie,” Cio smiled glumly at her.

“Angels cannot lie.” White Chain looked away.

“And I’m sure tha’s purpose has lots to do with sniffing stolen lady clothes,” the devil prodded.

White Chain looked concerned. “That was…” What was it? A gift? An offering?
“I was given it,” She concluded.

“There’s no such thing as a free scarf. Famous devil saying,” Cio said, leaning forward. This was more fun than brooding. “Spill your guts, heat-eater!”

“I don’t have a heart to give, Cio,” White Chain’s glow wavered. “I do not know why Nyave would-“ her jaw stiffened, the feeling of the faintest hairline fracture threatening to form. Cio’s expression was insufferable.

“Almost makes me wish I hadn’t given up on fanfiction,” the devil taunted. She opened her mouth to continue, but White Chain raised an accusatory finger.

“You should be concerned about your own admirer. I do not need you interfering with Allison’s training.” Cio yellowed.

“What do tha know about it?” Cio snapped, her distracting venture torn apart. “Maybe I should brood alone from now on.”

“My masteries do not extend to interpersonal relationships, but you have not been subtle, Cio.” White Chain thought of Cio staying each night in Allison’s room, her worry, her erratic behavior.

“At least tha can tell! At least something’s happening, even if I can’t be assed to say what it is! A devil I am, but tha are the one wearing a mask!” Cio lept to the deck, frowning up at the confused angel.
“What do I want? I want something, and I just might have found it. What do you want?”

White Chain looked down at her. The sun reflected off Cio’s glasses in a pure-white gleam. A shadow loomed over the two of them.

“Girl problems, huh?” The growling voice of Princess J. Moonshine shocked the pair. The red devil’s smug grin showed a disturbing amount of teeth. Cio and White Chain whirled about to face them, mouths already open in indignation.

“I do not understand what you mean-“
“Piss off the edge of the wheel tha-“
“-and if we were talking about that it would not be your-“
“-seduced hundreds, and I never-“
“-gave me the scarf-“
“-haven’t even had that body for a week and tha mock us about ‘girl problems’“

The righteous fury subsided.

“Damn. Some problems,” Princess chuckled.
“I’m gonna go make breakfast. Catch ya later, nerds.”

White Chain and Cio looked at each other as the hulking devil walked belowdecks. They both seemed to sigh, tempering the tension that hung in the air. Cio flashed a nervous smile and White Chain nodded.

“Obviously it’s girls that have problems with us.”

“Someone should make sure that they serve more than just raw meat this time.”

“Ah. Yes. I’ll handle it,” Cio said. She followed Princess, leaving White Chain alone on the deck.