*Jin's POV*

I enter the suite to the sound of Taehyung screeching.
And by screeching, I really mean banshee shrieks which I'm sure he somehow picked up from the damned Seraphim always at our tail. For a second, I think he is in trouble. Despite the endless protection wards, spells and bodyguards always around him, Taehyung always somehow manages to nearly get himself killed almost once a day.
Just yesterday, he'd slipped in his tub and knocked himself out for a good four hours. The amount of healing spells I put on his head should've been enough to save him from further concussions but no, the damned idiot woke up, panicked, hit the bedside drawer in his haste to get up and *knocked himself out again*.
I may be immortal, but Taehyung was going to be the death of me one day. One fine, soon day.
But a quick glance around the suite shows me that everything is calm. There is no screaming - other than Taehyung, no flying spells, no intruders, no nothing. The bodyguards are even as they always are, lounging around the corners, arms crossed over their chest, giving me a quick look of disdain as if I was a smear on their fine carpet.
I didn't mind. I looked at them the exact same way.
"Where is His Highness, King Taehyung?" I ask, using Taehyung's formal title. And he'd been right. The title did sound ridiculous on his name.
Fenrir nods his head in the direction of Taehyung's bedroom, an amused smile on his face.
"His Highness has a guest," he explains to me, one of the few guards who regarded me as a washable smear rather than a permanent one.
I raise an eyebrow, but ask no further questions, heading to the bedroom to inspect for myself what it is that idiot was screaming about.
Another guard is standing by the doorway to his room, the amusement clear as day on the vampire.
And I could understand why.
Taehyung is standing on his bed in only his boxers - which he called his short shorts and sometimes *wore out* - as two frazzled looking men in designer suits try to approach him.
"Taehyung!" A senior-looking citizen, complete with the shock of white hair, mustache and beard, sits on the sofa staring at him with a somewhat amused, somewhat disapproving look on his face. He was a High level Hunter; Taehyung had once introduced him to me, but I'd forgotten his name. I had a feeling it was 'Dumbledore' or maybe 'Gandalf', seeing as how he dressed and looked. He worked with the Parliament of the Hunter Court, an advisor of sorts, perhaps. "You must understand that the coronation -"
"I don't care about the freaking conoration!" Taehyung answers, his voice rising three octaves in the short sentence. He must be really disturbed. He'd said the word wrong.
Then he runs off his bed, making a wild break for the bathroom, before the two men in suits have caught him, tackling him to the ground.
"No, no, no, no, no!!" Taehyung is wild, thrashing like a fish out of water as he struggles out their grip. I vaguely wonder if he'd forgotten he had powers because --
The two men are suddenly sent flying, Taehyung projecting a burst of energy that sends them catapulting off him and into the mounted TV behind them, which crashes to the ground. I frown.
Taehyung could be childish at times, but this…
I step into the room, making my presence known.
And all the inhabitants immediately look up at me.
"JIN!"
Obviously, Taehyung sees me, scrambling up against the ground as he runs to me. I give him a quick once over.
He has small wounds on his limbs - carpet burn, I note. A few purple bruises decorate his shoulder, another peeping out of his hip from the low-riding shorts. Another against the side of his chest. Taehyung receives so many new injuries on a daily basis that I've stopped keeping track. It wasn't worth the effort.
His hair is a light, light purple today, almost white. An aftereffect of his disastrous attempt of conjuring up a spell two days ago. His eyes are wide, panicked. He looks five, not like he had the weight of the world on his shoulder.
The Gods of Luck must *really* dislike him.
He runs to me, hiding behind my back as if I'd offer some type of protection. Against the people who wanted to kill him maybe, but against the people in charge of his coronation, not likely.
"What's going on?" I murmur, letting my voice go dangerously low as I direct my question to the man on the sofa. His focus is on the two men pushing themselves off the floor. They'd obviously had their guard down, not expecting the Aamon to attack them when they were supposed to be helping him. Before the old man can answer, I've shifted my focus to Taehyung, whose eyes are staring accusingly at the two men. "And why aren't you clothed?" I snap, seeing his eyes go terribly wide as they always do when I scold him. Which is an average of five times a day. "Are you *trying* to get yourself killed?"
Taehyung looks at me, attempting to say something as his mouth gapes like a fish.
Then I direct my focus to the old man, still waiting for his answer. "Well?"
"If it hasn't been apparent to you," he answers. It hadn't. "The designers are trying to take Taehyung's goddamned measurements!"
"Why?"
"For his coronation, of course! The ceremony is in two weeks -"
"I told you, I don't *want* a ceremony!" He sounds like a child. A very spoilt, annoying and tired child.
"It's just a formality, Your Highness!" The old man exasperates.
"Stop *calling* me that!"
Okay. I've had enough.
I glance over my shoulder, at Taehyung who still clings to my back like he's waiting for me to throw a spell.
"Why won't you get your measurements done?"
"Because I have to be !" Taehyung snaps. "! Without clothes! Nada! And I don't want a bloody ceremony!"
I resist the urge to close my eyes. I turn to the old man.
"Why does he have to be ?" I ask, my patience feigned.
"Because the measurements must be precise!" It wasn't the old man who had answered, rather one of the two in suits, looking mighty undignified at being thrown around. "This is not just a coronation, Djinn. This is probably the biggest ceremony to grace the Earth! The last Aamon coronation was three thousand years ago and with the stakes piled so high now -"
I hold up a hand, freezing his tongue. I wasn't in the mood for a lecture. "Yes, thank you for the explanation," I say, looking away from his increasingly purple face. I turn back to Taehyung.
I know he sees the look in my eyes, knows what I'm trying to convey. But there is the hard set of his eyes that forewarns me of a hell of an argument about to go down if he doesn't get his way.
I sigh internally. He *was* just getting the ropes of being Aamon anyway. And from the multiple assassination attempts he's had over his head, he must be pretty damn sick of people yelling at him and telling him what to do.
I sigh, feeling myself lose under his gaze.
"I'll do it," I say, speaking to the guests but eyes still on Taehyung. "I'll take the measurements."
And then Taehyung's impossibly wide eyes get impossibly wider, before I turn away, facing the old man.
"Alright?" It was a question, but there was no argument in my tone. Literally take it or leave it.

And now Taehyung was sitting on his bed, wrapped around a blanket I'd thrown around him. Everyone else had left, with the old man finally closing the door behind him.
He looks at me accusingly, as I stare nonchalantly right back, arms folded across my chest. If he was trying to intimidate me, the blanket resting over his head and his hair falling into his eyes was making that overtly impossible.
"I'm not getting for you," he says, voice haughty and - in his state - semi-dignified.
I roll my eyes. "Would it matter to you if I say I've already seen everything?"
And the blush works up his face so fast that I have to look away to avoid smiling. He hurls a pillow at me, and I let it hit my chest, knowing he'd want the satisfaction of it.
"ert!" He accuses, looking as if I was the one in the wrong.
"Djinn," I correct patiently.
"I don't care!" He frets. "You're still not seeing me ."
What was up with him today, I vaguely wonder. He was always childish, but rarely was he ever irrational.
"I don't need to see you to take your measurements, Taehyung," I point out.
"You mean you've been seeing through my clothes the whole time?!"
And then I hear snickers coming from outside, knowing that no matter how much we whispered, we'd still be completely audible to everyone in the suite. I whisper a silencing spell, extending the bubble to just around Taehyung's bedroom.
"I have no such power," I say, my patience with him wearing thinner and thinner each and every day.
The angry look falls off his face almost immediately. It was something I always found amusing about Taehyung. His emotions changed so fast, they were like a cartoon when on his face.
"Oh," he says numbly. I head to his walk in closet, grabbing a random sweater and pair of jeans. "Then why did Hector want my clothes off?"
Hector. Now I remember. The chief advisor to the Victor, Leader of the Hunter's Court. "Because those two men in suits weren't tailors."
"They weren't?" He really should take that stupid surprised look off his face. I could never imagine anyone taking him seriously when he looked like a deer caught in headlights. I threw both pair of clothes at him. They land smack against his face. I hide another sigh. Taehyung had the grace of a walrus.
"As Aamon, don't you think you should be able to tell one species from another by the scent of their souls?"
That seemed to do it, as the sweater and jeans fall off his head, revealing a seventeen year old with a massive pout on his face.
I continue talking before we got somewhere too personal.
"The late King Ezekiel had the ability to not only detect souls but also tell the name, date of birth and specie of each one. It was said he knew the story behind each and every soul he met."
"That's exactly it," Taehyung sighs, looking up at me. The look in his eyes makes me nearly breathless. "I'm not Ezekiel."
I tilt my head questioningly. Was this what his mood had been about? and his insecurity didn't seem to have much correlation however.
"Stand up," I say instead, heading over to the coffee table to retrieve the set of measuring tape, pencil and paper. "Get dressed. I need to take your measurements."
Taehyung surprisingly heeds with no questions asked, slipping the sweater over his head and putting the jeans on. I motion him forward, and he comes, standing about a foot away from me as I unravel the tape.
For a few moments, we are quiet. I take Taehyung's waist, legs, hips, knees and ankles, writing them down on the piece of paper. Normally talkative, it's weird that he says nothing. I presume I must've hit a sore spot.
Once the bottom half of him is done, I stand, placing the tape against his shoulders end to end.
"The men were healers," I say, continuing on the conversation. Taehyung looks up at me in surprise, as he always does when I say something that doesn't resemble a yell. "They needed you in the because they wanted to check the extent of your injuries."
"Why couldn't Hector just have told me? Besides, I have my own healer - you."
I pause to write the measurements down. I move to his neck, memorizing the number, before moving to his arms.
"That's exactly it. Hector doesn't trust me. And you already have a healer. But he needs his own to truly check on you, and you would've said no if he'd told the truth."
Another range of emotions crosses Taehyung's face. Confusion, then realization, frustration, slight anger and betrayal.
"I hate being lied to," he seethes.
"He didn't lie to you," I say. I wasn't defending the old man. I couldn't care less for him. I was defending Taehyung, whether he realized it or not. "The men were here to take measurements. And heal you in the process."
"Still," he argues. "I would've allowed it. If it had been for greater purposes."
I quirk an eyebrow but make no reply. I return to the piece of paper. Taehyung had surely always been lean. I'd seen enough of his body when we were band members to tell him from the back. Yet seeing the numbers on the paper made him somehow smaller, thinner. Weaker.
"And the lengths they'd go to just to heal me are ridiculous. Why doesn't anyone just sit down and talk to me?"
Maybe because you look like a child in a tantrum at all waking hours of the day, I think, though don't say aloud.
I come towards him instead, taking his left hand, and then winding the tape around each finger.
"What are you doing?"
"You'll be expected to wear rings during the ceremony. They will be custom-made to your fitting."
He blinks up at me. "How do you know?"
"I'm very old." His eyes widen at my answer, of which I return with a half smile. "And I also read the book, Taehyung. There is a manual on the ceremony."
"There is a *manual*?"
"You have the attention span of a caffeinated toddler," I say, but nod anyway. "Only for the ceremony. Not for the power."
His face falls at that.
"The healers weren't just here to heal," I continue. "They wanted to ward you."
"I'd be more comfortable with yours."
"You shouldn't trust anyone so completely," I scold. Yet I nod in agreement. At least he took the lesser of two evils. "But you have a point. Once they place their wards on you, with or without your consent, my own wards and spells on you will die."
"Can't I have both on me for like, extra strength?"
"No. The purpose of their wards is in their exclusivity. It would be theirs, and theirs only."
Taehyung's face remains blank, though I can tell he is preoccupied with many thoughts.
"What would their wards do, if they had successfully placed them on me?"
"It would depend on their intentions," I answer curtly. Taehyung was developing a *mood*.
"And yours?"
I blink. Rarely am I ever taken offguard. Taehyung seemed to have an uncanny ability. I look up at him, seeing the hard set in his eyes.
"In the state you're in," I say instead. "No answer I give would appease you."
"Try me."
It looks like he wasn't kidding.
I turn his hand that I was holding - his right - palm downwards, and whisper an incantation. For a brief moment, a flash of fire appears on the skin, shaped in a symbol no one but the children of Lucifer could decipher. "To ward against all types of venom," I explain briefly, taking his left hand after that. Another symbol burns harmlessly against the back of Taehyung's hand. The dead cold in his eyes is gone, but is replaced with a look of childish wonder. I hide a smile. At times, he was so easy to appease, it was ridiculous. "To protect against the Evil Eye." My hand goes higher, pushing the sleeve back to expose his wrist. Another symbol appears. "To protect against nullification spells." I tap his forehead, dead center. "To ward against hypnosis and mind-control." I point to his throat. "To strengthen the muscles of the eosophagus and throat." I tapped his chest, right over his heart. "To strengthen the beating of the heart. And it goes on and on and on. Inform me if you'd like a list."
Taehyung is back to frowning, staring down his body like he expects my spells to suddenly come alive.
"Tracer spells?"
"One against your heart and another against your right lung."
The frown deepens.
"Listening spells?"
"On each ear."
And then he looks up at me. What he is so displeased about, I wasn't even sure.
"And I suppose you can see through my eyes too, huh?"
"Just the right one."
He'd been sarcastic, I belatedly realize.
"Why do you people keep *treating* me like I'm property?"
Again, I blink blankly. I was getting weaker at schooling my features, particularly around him.
"We don't -"
"Yes, you do. Like some purebred puppy you're so afraid to lose!"
"Taehyung, those wards are to protect you, I assure you. You have assassination attempts on you so often -"
"Stop giving me that excuse to -"
"Taehyung, they are there to *protect* you!" I'd burst right then, the bubble of anger popping at his constant prodding. "Do you think this is fun and games? With the amount of times your life falls on the line, I'd expect you to be relieved or maybe even thankful we're trying so hard to keep you alive!"
"The only reason you want me alive is because you want to use me! Everyone wants to use me! If I weren't Aamon, I would be worth nothing! 'Oh wow, a being of such power! Maybe if we could just turn him over to our side, we'd be able to use his power to our liking and start an all out war to vie a place on top of the food chain!!'"
The last three words had been said with enough conviction and anger that a burst of wild power suddenly emanates from him, hitting me squarely in the chest and knocking me back a few feet. Well, looks like his anger bubble has popped too.
There is a microsecond of surprise on his face, before it is again masked by anger.
"Fine," I say, knowing my sudden calm would make him hesitate. "Tell me then. What is it that you want?"
He freezes. I know he can't answer, but I wait.
"To be able to breathe without someone either staring down my neck to kill me or make sure I'm still breathing!!" And he's started yelling again, though it is clear to see that he is scrambling for an answer. "I can't take a step out this hotel without an organization, specie or entity trying to kill me. I'm Aamon, responsible over the *billions* of souls on the Earth and the Afterlife and I still can't figure out a damn about my powers." His hands have rose up to his head, gripping on to his hair like he truly, truly wants to rip it out. I'd say Taehyung was stressed, but it seemed stressed was an understatement. "Courts that wouldn't have given ** about me two months ago are suddenly either my best friend or my worst enemy and everyone who isn't claiming me a rogue is calling me a traitor. I'm forced to meddle in their politics when I have the tact and foresight of a *dead whale*."
He looks up at me then, finally looking me in the eye. His eyes are wet, I realize. They shine against the flourescent lights and his youthful looks suddenly seem infinitely younger. I school my features.
"Look at me! I can't even control my emotions when under pressure and -" He pauses, closing his eyes and taking a deep, shuddering breath. The action makes a tear fall, lone and dangerously blaring.
He opens his eyes right then, and I stare right back at him.
The eyes are dry. The face is back in control. The body language is almost challenging me to say something about his moment's weakness. As always, his quick change of emotions surprises me.
"You're stressed," I uselessly point out, because I knew he was waiting for me to say something.
"A bit."
I nod, waiting for him to continue. But he says nothing, and I say nothing, and soon five minutes of silence passes between us. And then a knock on the closed door has our attention.
"Are you done in there?" Hector's voice has never sounded more relieving.
I break the silencing spell, eyes still on Taehyung. "Quite," I answer, just as the bedroom door opens, and the old man strides in, the previous men in suits still flanking him.
"Thank you for the favour, Djinn," Hector says, purposely mispronouncing my name as he takes a seat back on the sofa. If he saw that Taehyung was dressed, or quite angry looking, he made no mention of it. "Now if you would be so kind as to leave us be…"
"No." I turn to Taehyung, whose eyes are narrowed accusingly towards Hector. "Jin stays."
"With all due respect, Your Highness -"
"Jin *stays*, or he will personally show you the way out."
That shuts him up, though by the look in his eyes, Hector is nowhere near pleased.
"Now, for the coronation, Your Highness -"
"Taehyung."
"… Taehyung, you are expected to acknowledge multiple Courts, know them by name, face, title."
"How many people will be there?" He asks.
"Somewhere around three thousand," Hector shrugs, staring at the measurements I'd written.
And then Taehyung closes his eyes, running his hands through his hair. He looks much older in that moment.
"Three thousand people," he murmurs, heading to the sofa opposite Hector to sit down. He looks up at Hector, a frown on his face. "I don't even know three thousand people."
"You soon will," Hector perks up. "Other than that, you will also be expected to dance with a few representatives of the Courts."
"The Ruler of Forty Legions of Heaven and Hell must… dance," Taehyung repeats, pretty numbly save for the horror on his face. "I can't dance."
Hector frowns, great bushy eyebrows coming together in confusion. "You were a performer before this… were you not?"
"Yes, but *paired dance* isn't the same!"
"We shall teach you the pointers."
It doesn't calm him. Hector prattles on and and, but by the look in Taehyung's eyes, I could still see his thoughts still frozen by the fact that he'd probably have to do some classic waltz with some pretty important figures.
I leave the room, no particular destination in mind. I had literal eyes and ears on Taehyung, so I wasn't worried that something would happen without me knowing. The bedroom immediately lead out to the living room, and to the left, a floor to ceiling window opens out to the balcony outside.
And Jungkook is there, lounging against the love seat with a Rubik's cube in hand. His fingers move amazingly quickly on the puzzle, solving and scrambling it every few seconds.
I head for the balcony, walking past him to lean against the railings, elbows resting on the metal. Jungkook doesn't look up at me, and I don't give him a glance. The Los Angeles view greets me. It should've been amazing.
But the endless buildings, constant stream of people and hustle and bustle only unnerve me. There were so many blindspots out of my view, so many smells wafting around, so many people. Such a distraction. I wouldn't be able to detect an ambush until the last second. And the last second would be too late.
"You're nervous."
I feel rather than see Jungkook nod, his rhythm on the puzzle unbroken.
"Why?"
"The coronation," he says. He hid his emotions well.
"It will be well-guarded."
"The Lycans will be there."
The Lycan Court was the lead organization commanding all Weres much like how the Hunters' Court ruled over their species. What differentiated the Lycans from other species was their 'clan' concept. Each Were belonged to a particular clan, and each clan belonged to an Alpha. Going against the Alpha was a physical impossibility, and once an Alpha lay a claim, no one from his clan could deny him.
If an Alpha of Jungkook's clan came to claim him, no one could stop him. It didn't matter if Jungkook didn't even know for himself which clan he belonged to. The Alpha would know.
"They wouldn't dare cause a scene at the coronation," I say, not even believing my own words. The amount of people wanting Taehyung dead was growing by the day.
"But what if they do? I don't want to leave Taehyung."
Due to a very strange set of circumstances, Taehyung had been the one who raised Jungkook and as such, Jungkook saw him as his foster parent. I can only imagine the fear the young boy was feeling at the prospect of being separated from him.
"Taehyung will fight for you. He is Aamon. If the Lycan are wise, they would leave you be."
"But I don't want him to fight for me." He finally looks up right then, and I am forced to look over my shoulder to meet his gaze. He is extremely agitated. "I don't want him to put his life on the line."
"He would," I say. "As you've always done for him."
Jungkook only stares at me.
"Taehyung is not the type of person to let others die if he can do something about it. You as his child would know."
Jungkook nods. He knew truth when hit with it.
It did little to quell his worries.
I turn to face him then, leaning my back against the railings as I motion him forward. Jungkook rises and stands before me.
I put out my hand, and he instinctively places his hand on top of mine. I pull his sleeve up, exposing his arm to me.
"Bite your tongue," I warn, meaning the phrase in its literal sense.
Jungkook is easily compliant, a world away from Taehyung, as I draw a symbol on the skin just below the crook of his elbow.
It glows for a moment, the ward burning into his skin. Jungkook's hand tightens into a fist and he tenses, but he says nothing. I whisper an incantation, and the symbol glows brighter, a combination of bright orange and black that wasn't unlike molten lava.
He gasps this time, more of surprise than pain. And then the symbol stops glowing, resting on his skin like a burn scar, then it too, fades into the skin.
"A protection ward," I explain, as Jungkook blinks blankly at his now empty arm. He moves it this way and that, as if expecting the symbol to have somehow shifted somewhere else. "It won't stop a claim, should an Alpha try, but it will signal you when he is about to try one." Jungkook looks up at me, eyes wide. "Get away while you can. A claim won't work if you aren't present. In the meantime, Taehyung and I might be able to work a compromise with the Alpha."
"But I'd be able to mentally feel the claim."
"Not with that ward you won't," I explain curtly. "It blocks mental and psychological communication except upon the caster. And your guardian too."
And then he tilts his head, bangs falling into his eyes as he ponders the weight of my words.
"You laid a claim on me," he states, tone light as if it amused him.
I shrug. "It won't supercede the Alpha's, but it will buy you time. Of course, I will break it, if you aren't -"
"No," Jungkook interrupts, grinning up at me. "I don't mind."
And then he heads inside, skipping along in child-like grace, as he enters Taehyung's bedroom.
And is then thrown right out, the sound of a blast accompanying his exit.
Damn it. I run straight into the room, as do five other bodyguard. I manage to slip past them before they converge around the doorway, the five of them trying to fit through the small space at the same time.
Taehyung is standing *right there*, Hector standing behind him, the old man's arm wrapped tight around Taehyung's waist to hold him back. He has another arm outsretched, palm outwards as he mentally restrains something back.
I follow their gaze.
And freeze in my tracks.
What had once been a wall has been torn off in totality, pieces of it now strewn across Taehyung's bedroom, exposing the room to the elements. And outside, floating off the ground like the Holy being it is, stands Hael.
I needed a second to simply stare.
Hael, a servant of Heaven.
As the son of Lucifer, I'd seen angels from time to time when the Court had to deal with the Lord's orders directly and the beings were always those my siblings and I watched with detached amusement.
Blind servants, they had never been given our gift of intellect. An Angel's sole purpose in life was to serve, and we harbored no jealousy for that sort of life.
I had heard of their power, their ruthlessness, their unhesitance to smite those deemed to require punishment. The Seraphim were nothing compared to Angels of the Lord.
"Assistance please," Hector murmurs, obviously pained from creating a shield strong enough to hold the being in its tracks. I had to be impressed. The fact that the Angel itself had been stopped said something incredible about Hector's powers. "Your wards won't hold for long."
Ah. So he was only strengthening my protection spells.
They won't hold for long, though. There wasn't much that could hold an Angel back.
No one had moved. I couldn't blame them. Those unused to an Angel's presence would usually be frozen in fear so much that they wouldn't see the smite until it happened. A being so Holy would invoke that sort of reaction, even towards non-believers.
I take the lead, running forward to stand before it, using my body to physically block its view of Taehyung and Hector.
I see Hael narrows its eyes at me, its hold on its staff tightening. It knew the Son of a banished Angel when it saw one.
"Get out of here," I murmur, talking to both Taehyung and Hector while my eyes never left the being. "Get everyone and leave."
"I'm not leaving you!"
I had fully expected that argument, as Hael moves forward maybe a foot, and breaches through my wards, breaking through the walls like sugar glass. I feel the strain in my mind. Not many beings could break such wards so easily.
"What do you want?" I ask it, using the spoken tongue of the Underworld. My voice has dropped frighteningly low, allowing it to detect the hint of power from my tone alone. If it were wise, it would reply me. If it weren't, then no surprise. Angels couldn't think for themselves.
"Only an audience with the Aamon." Hael's voice reverberates around the room, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once, and I know the sheer volume of it would've surely dropped someone behind me to their knees.
"The Aamon is untrained," I answer, forcing myself to stare into its frightening eyes. "Your revelation might drive him insane."
"Then let him be trained," Hael says, and then extends its hand towards us.
I growl, dropping lower to the ground, bracing for a sudden attack.
"No living soul may enter Heaven," I say. "You as Guardian of the Gates would know."
"Not when it is the Aamon."
"The Aamon is untrained!" I repeat. "Ascension to Heaven would only prove to kill him."
"Who are you to stop me?" And I catch the amusement in its tone.
"If you have a message for the Aamon, then it shall go through me. He does not even know the language of the Heavens."
"Very well," Hael replies, extending its wings. And the sheer size of the thing manages to wrap around the hotel building, much like a toddler bracing itself to wrap its arms over an adult's leg. "A message from the Lord."
And the vibration in the air starts, a distinct and powerful humming that only starts to build in volume and intensity, reverberating off of Hael. I hear Taehyung scream as he drops to the ground on all fours. The sounds to him would've been tantamount to a hundred banshees screaming at once.
"Hell hath no fury like a Fallen Angel. Lucifer's ascension comes hither and if the Aamon does not stop him, the Lord himself will intervene."
I feel the colour drain from my face, my heart seeming to have dropped to the ground. Hael continues, speaking the words I had already thought of.
"And when the Lord descends, the Apocalypse follows."
I unthinkingly charge forward, alight and alive with anger. There was no way that my father would find reason to rise, no reason for the Lord to fall. My mind kept denying it. There was no way. Yet there was no way the Angel would lie. The prophecy had been written long before and angels weren't physically capable of lying either. The fact only proved to extend my rage further.
How dare such a disaster rain down on us on Taehyung's reign? The boy barely knew how to control a vision and he was suddenly in charge of holding back the Apocalypse?
I felt my human form ripple, felt it falling away as I instinctively revert to true form to attack something so powerful. Hael doesn't move, only staring back at me. It felt like he was challenging me.
I feel the wings extend from my back, arching and growing in size so fast that I feel the rips and tears in my skin from the sheer force. My growl has turned into a roar and I feel the talons grow, my muscles ripple as I am suddenly twice my height. I feel my jaw stretch forward, extending into a snout that gives space for my mouth full of fangs.
I was going to rip this thing apart.
I jump, clearing the space between the hotel and the Angel in one powerful burst, hearing Taehyung scream my name.
"Come, Prince of Hell," Hael says, only spiting me further. I could have sworn I saw a hint of a smile on its nonhuman face. "Prove your father right. Prove to him that you are nothing more than his son, Azazel."
And then it moves, the staff on its left hand suddenly pointed toward me.
And shifts into a spear right before my eyes, the blade pointed straight at me.
*Childish,* I muse, before I am thoroughly impaled, the blade going through the middle of my chest and protruding straight out my back.
I hear Taehyung scream again. I hear further struggles, and know it is the bodyguards holding him back before he ran towards me. I look up at Hael.
"Did you really think that your toy would stop me? I have experienced worse from a Fallen Angel."
"I am aware," Hael answers, and it suddenly leans in towards me. "But it is not your place to stop me. The Lord has commanded it."
Hael's hand is suddenly wrapped around my throat, as it pulls the spear out my chest with force. I jerk violently, feeling the blood literally spurt out the wound from the back.
It pulls me forward, till its lips are near my ear.
"Lucifer will meet the Aamon through his son. Tis the prophecy that none may avoid. But it does not speak of who will fight for him. Choose the right side, Prince of Hell."
And then Hael throws me, hurling me backwards as I revert back to human form. I land against the carpeted floor with a wet thump, eyes still on Hael as my own pool of blood spreads against me.
And then it is gone in a flash of light that burned against my retinas.
Taehyung is the first to reach me, screaming my name as he cupped my face in his hands. I slowly pull my gaze away from the space where Hael once stood, looking up, in turn, at Taehyung.
He is crying. He always cries for me, every time I got hurt, every time I revealed just a tiny bit more about what he called my tragic past. He cried more for me than he did for himself. It is strange, because he never cried when we were still together as a group. Nothing seemed to phase him enough to bring him to tears.
Now I see him cry often enough that it is tiring.
Who knew that someone would care so much for someone like me.
Had he not seen my true form only moments before? Had it not scared him? Because it evidently had scared the others, who were only staring at me with wide frightened eyes.
"Stop crying," I say, as a third tear lands against my cheek. "Check on Jungkook. He took a direct hit -"
"Stop moving! You're bleeding pretty -"
"I will heal," I interrupt, gripping his wrist to hopefully bring some sense into him, because I couldn't reach up to shake his shoulders this time.
"You better! Because I am going to personally descend to Hell and kill you if you don't!"
I can't help the wry smile as I force myself up into a sitting position. "I'd like to see you try."
And then promptly black out.

Well, that was embarrassing, I think to myself, as I open my eyes.
It was still night time, from the darkness I could see out the window. But from a glance at the wall clock, it wasn't the same day.
That was strange. I couldn't remember seeing a clock hanging from the wall of Taehyung's bedroom.
I moved to sit up and stop, suddenly finding that I couldn't.
I was chained, I realized, my wrists in handcuffs that were linked to the bed posts. I came to belatedly realize that I was shirtless too, save for the rolls and rolls of bandages, sufficient enough to be a called a cloth, wrapped endlessly around my chest and back.
That pissed me off.
I couldn't dematerialize, couldn't teleport the hell out of there thanks to the bloody handcuffs. They were enchanted enough that I could feel their magic down to my toes. Someone had taken off my shoes too, I fumed. And socks.
Well, at least I still had my jeans on.
This was starting to look more and more like the beginnings of a bad movie.
I jangle my cuffs for a moment to call for attention, before I close my eyes and rested, waiting.
I wasn't in the hotel any longer. None of the smells of the building were here.
Wherever 'here' was, it seemed to reek of magic, of spells and wards long overused. Their residue smelt of the years and years that had passed between one spell to another. I could hear footsteps, heartbeats and breathing. Voices, multiple in discussion.
I was in some sort of Head Quarters. Or perhaps even some Court.
That didn't sound good.
Hector had probably deduced correctly what I was and had labeled me a threat and brought me to the Hunter's Court to be put on lockdown or maybe even undergo a trial I was bound to lose.
Daddy dearest wouldn't be very pleased about this.
I could probably work my way out of the cuffs, but that would only raise further questions. And further suspicion.
I was enough under the radar as is.
Then I hear footsteps, heavy and deliberate and paced. Guards, I assumed. Bringing along someone of status.
It wasn't Jungkook or Taehyung.
A door is unlocked, and I hear the heavy sound as it creaks open.
Several individuals enter the room, with one radiating enough power that I open my eyes.
The Victor. So I was in the Hunter's Court.
He stood by my bedside, looking down at me the same way most Angels do. Fascination, with the poorly hidden desire to smite me.
"Your Highness," I acknowledge.
"Azazel," he responds, eyes bright.
My own narrow at him. Had anyone in the suite somehow understood the language of the Afterlife? "Perhaps you were misinformed. My name is Jin."
"Oh I think not," he says, the air of arrogance starting to seep through his façade. "Hector saw all he needed."
"Hector is a senile old man," I calmly counter. "What he saw was a reimagination of all things he feared, which all Angels can invoke at will."
"He also saw you being smited." I bristle at his tone. He was taunting, despite his calm demeanor. "Speaking the tongue of the Angels, charging headlong at one." He pointedly stares down my bandaged chest, a smirk playing on his lips. "Surviving a head on attack."
"I'm sure Hector has enough dealings with Angels to know one when he saw one," I bite.
"No," the Victor says, agreeing. Angels did not deal with mere mortals. They did not converse, did not communicate, and rarely, if ever, make their presence known. Until now. "But the very fact that an Angel descended, attacked a Hunter stronghold and talked to you is enough to put you on our To Watch List." He leans forward, probably half a foot away from my face to whisper. "And having the precious son of old Lucy would surely bring us to his attention, no?"
That does it.
I break through the chains, directing a strong enough burst of power to the metal that makes them explode, and wrap a strong hand around the Victor's neck.
I feel him freeze, feel him tense at the contact, but the forsaken smile is still on his face. The desire to break his jugular was astounding.
"I'm not sure what you're on about," I warn, though I was. I was pretty sure what this power-hungry fool would want. "But calling forth Satan himself to ask a favour would be pretty high on the list of stupidest things you've done so far."
I constrict my hand slightly, feeling the weapons from the bodyguards surrounding us pointed at me. The Victor's face takes a satisfying purple tinge.
"The Underworld does not deal with the mortals of Earth. You don't understand the ways of the Underworld and you probably never will. There is *nothing* you could offer them that would be worth all the destruction they'll cause upon arrival. Be wise for once, Victor, and reconsider."
I let go, and the colour immediately returns. The Victor straightens, hands clasped behind his back as he stares me down. He was no longer smiling.
I sit up, feeling the strain against my chest. It felt like an idiot had put the bandages on.
Taehyung.
"Where am I?" I say instead, giving a cursory glance to the guards around me. Four, all armed to the teeth. I guess they did see me as a serious enough threat.
"The Hunter's Court," the Victor explains, and I feign surprise. "After the Angel broke through all the wards and attacked, the hotel was deemed no longer safe for the Aamon and his…" He gives me a glance, looking me up and down. "Acquaintances."
"And I suppose the Aamon is safer amongst the people who wish to use him like a puppet." I look up at him, eyes narrowing accusingly. Every Court was fighting for Taehyung to be on their side. They were offering everything: safety, power, status. But nothing was without repercussions.
"The Aamon is safer amongst people he trusts."
*"He trusts no one."* For the longest time, I had drilled it into Taehyung's head. His position and power did not give him the luxury of trust. Not in this world, not in the Hereafter.
"He regards the Court as home. He sees the Hunters as family."
"Maybe one or two individuals here, but he knows your kniving ways. He is no fool."
Our heads shoot up right then, staring at the ceiling as if we could see through it. Something was moving, exuding bursts of power strong enough that it prompts an instinctive need to flee in our bodies.
I whip my head to the Victor, rage building.
"Where is Taehyung?"
"He is here, where he is safe."
"Take me to him," I say, just as the foundations of the building start to rock and sway. The chandelier overhead swings hard enough to risk falling.
"After the episode with the Angel and realizing the danger that an Unknown would pose to the Aamon, the Court has decreed that the Unknown must stay away from the Aamon until he is deemed no longer a threat."
"What Unknown?" I seethe, just as the chandelier crashes to the ground, effectively spooking the bodyguards.
"You."
*"What?"*
I move to stand, and a bodyguard shoots a spell at me, hitting me squarely in the chest. I am thrown against the headboard of the bed, slamming my head against the wall. I turn to him, eyes livid.
He backs away a step, but does not stand down.
Cracks are starting to line the walls of the room, growing longer and more intricate by the second.
"The Aamon is young," I say, turning to the Victor. "He is much like a child. He doesn't have full control of his powers. Make him lose control and the power goes awry."
The Victor doesn't even budge. Him being pompous was only going to lead the whole head quarters to an early grave.
"By this time, he *knows* you are keeping me away from him. And you trying to control his movements will only anger him further. The less he is aware of his surroundings, the more the power will dominate."
Still nothing. The amount of ego up in that head of his would've made Satan proud.
"Take me to him before Taehyung calls on the full power of the Underworld to this building!"
That seemed to do it, as he suddenly grabs me, just as a section of the ceiling falls and slams onto the space where I was moments ago.
"Take him to the Aamon," he commands a guard, throwing me at him. I would've said something scathing in reply, but the Victor was already doing me a large enough favour. "See to it that the building remains standing."
The guard nods, a tight grip on my arm. He murmurs a spell, before throwing me towards a closet. I lurch through, fully expecting to hit oaken wood, when it gives way, and I reappear somewhere else.
A portal. Incredibly stupid to put one in a prison.
He reappears right behind me, crashing into my back and we are sprawling, just as a bookshelf tips at our feet, slamming against the ground. The building was still shaking.
"You are sure you can stop this?"
"Of course not," I reply, squirming to get him off me. "Only the Aamon can stop his own power."
"Then what use is it to meet him?!" He screeches, much like Taehyung, as he hauls me to my feet. I feel my wound stretch. Holy injuries took a little longer than normal to heal.
"Taehyung appreciates a familiar face," I explain curtly, as we break out into a run, the guard still leading. "It may be enough to jolt him back to reality."
"You're risking all this on the mere chance that he may find your face familiar?!" He suddenly disappears, going straight through a wall, and I quickly follow. Another portal. This time, less stable, I note, as I am suddenly horizontal, crashing through the ceiling and landing against the marble floor with a jarring thud.
"Yes," I answer, picking myself up the floor and following the running figure.
"What makes you think -"
"I don't," I interrupt. "But the option of dying under the heat of Hell does not sound very pleasing, does it?"
That seems to shut him up, his lips pressing into a thin line.
"Through here," he says, pointing to a hallway that lead straight into a dead end.
"Another portal?" After the previous one, I wasn't too keen.
"No," he answers, running forward. "Shortcut."
Oh.
And he takes out a Sig Sauer from his coat, pointing the monstrosity of a gun at the wall. He fires a whole round into the wall, each bullet leaving an incredible indent on the concrete.
And then we take a running leap, bracing ourselves as we slam into the wall.
And crash straight through.
It seemed like Hell itself had taken refuge in the room. Everything was on fire, and yet still, the inhabitants of the room don't move. No one seems to notice the two of us crash straight through a concrete wall, and I couldn't blame them.
Along with the fire, were winds strong enough to nearly tip me over. I grip the edge of a drawer by my side.
Smack in the middle of the room, Taehyung levitates ten feet off the ground, encompassed in a cocoon of power that swirls around him protectively. That was where the winds were coming from.
Fire was exuding from him, and he seemed to be glowing a white light, as most Angels in power do.
The combination of the powers of Heaven and Hell in one individual. I was suddenly wary if I could actually stop him.
"Now do you think you can stop him?" The guard beside me asks anyway, as we stare up at Taehyung.
"Not without hurting him." I turn my head, glancing around the room. "Jungkook!"
And the boy whirls his head in my direction, eyes wide, expression frightened. "Jin!"
He tries to run to me, but a column of fire suddenly lights the space between us, breaking through the floor and shooting up towards the ceiling. My eyes widen.
Being caught in that fire would be a memorable event.
*What happened?* I project my thought to him. The roar of flames would make it impossible to be heard.
*He's angry,* Jungkook explains, taking several steps back as the column suddenly widens. That was pretty much obvious.
But at what?
*Did you try calm him?*
*Nothing seems to get through!*
I nod my understanding. I guess I had to try.
*How far can you throw?*
*Pretty far,* he answers, ducking when a random fire shoots from overhead. *In wolf form.*
*Can you change right now?*
He shakes his head. *The place is enchanted. I'm stuck as is.*
I bite back the thought of a profanity.
*What are you planning?* Even in thought, Jungkook sounded pretty frightened. It was no use telling him to leave. He wouldn't leave Taehyung even in death.
*I have no plans,* I answer, looking up at Taehyung.
"You don't?!" I glance over my shoulder. The guard is still there, looking at me incredulously. Looks like I'd said that out loud.
"Shut up," I snap. "I'll think of something."
"THINK FASTER!"
And I push him away, just as column of fire bursts from where he previously stood. The little colour he has left leaves his face as he looks up at the flames.
"You're a really bad bodyguard, you know that?"
Unlike what I'd said, I did have a plan. An ultimately risky, stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless.
I reach up towards Taehyung, an arm outstretched.
By logic, Taehyung was Guardian of Heaven and Hell. And I was the Son of the King of Hell. I should be able to supercede his power in some way.
The flames respond to me, more used to my calling than to the newly appointed Aamon.
I clench my fist, feeling a column of fire combust near Taehyung into nothingness. Risky business, for though I was Prince, I had in all honesty never explored my powers.
*Jin?*
I ignore Jungkook, as the column of fire reappears at my feet, bursting through with enough force to send me flying. Exactly as I'd intended.
I sail through the air, really wishing my wings could appear without me losing my human form, and latch on to the next column of fire I see. It burns straight through my palm momentarily, a fire I felt straight to my bone.
And then the fire solidifies, and instead of burning me, wraps me in a protective embrace. I look up.
Taehyung is before me, so close I could just reach out and grab him, save for the protective white light and hell fire surrounding him.
"Taehyung!"
He doesn't hear me. His eyes are a bright, bright white, aglow with light that blinds to even look at him.
"TAEHYUNG!"
Still nothing. I suppose if there was time for a stupid decision, it would be now.
I lurch forward, feeling myself turn to smoke as the hard mass of my body gives way to spirit form. I assume it would be easier to harm myself when I was so solid. If I couldn't grab him now, maybe another form could.
I breach through the physical shields around Taehyung, and realise I was wrong. The pain as I fought through my own flames and the light of the Holy was enough to momentarily blind me. It looked like no living being was supposed to be able to breach through them.
But being in gaseous form allowed me to at least lessen the pain, as I push through, gritting my currently nonexistent teeth.
And then I'm through, so suddenly that I nearly breach through the other side of the protective bubble.
I solidify, staring into Taehyung's eyes and resisting the urge to flinch back. I could barely recognize an ounce of him in that state.
The air in the bubble was surprisingly warm, calm even.
"Taehyung," I call.
Where was the one I knew so well, who was always smiling, always making idiotic faces? Where was the one whose empathy was so strong he'd rather die trying to save a criminal than live and allow them to die? Whatever had Taehyung right now, it was ruthless, heartless and cold. None of what Taehyung was.
"The Aamon owns the power, not the other way around." I had to get to him somehow. He has to wake up before he killed everyone. "Taehyung, wake up!" I grip his shoulders, intending to shake him, when the burn inflicts my palm, eating through the skin as most Holy weapons would do on a being like me. I pull back, hissing.
"If you don't wake up, you're going to kill everyone! You once told me that that would never be part of you! You're not a killer, Taehyung. Don't prove yourself wrong!"
And then I hit something. I know I do, because Taehyung blinked. His eyes were still glowing a blinding white, but he had responded.
"You're the strongest person I know. Stronger than the Angels, Lucifer and even the Aamon before you. Because you have a set of morals you adhere to. You are kind. You are empathic. And you don't. Give. Up. Come back to me, Taehyung, before you kill us all."
And then Taehyung closes his eyes.
For a moment, I panic. If this power raged on while he slept, then there would truly be no stopping it, not when the holder of the power was incommunicable.
And then he opens his eyes, and looks up at me.
It is his gaze. It is Taehyung's kind set of eyes once more, looking up at me blankly.
"Jin," I hear him whisper.
I give him a small smile, for it is all I can afford.
The power shuts off just as suddenly, the white light, raging storm and columns of fire simply winking out of existence.
And then we fall.
I stare at him as we plummet the short distance, and he quietly stares right back. He was exhausted, I could tell by the expressionless look on his face. I was just as tired, maybe even more so.
We hit the ground, the sound of the impact echoing around the sudden silence of the room. I hear yells and hurried footsteps, Jungkook's voice distinct as he screams our names. Neither of us move. Taehyung is still staring at me. I wonder what he saw on my face. Would the exhaustion on mine be as clear as his?
Someone grabs him by his shoulders, an arm against his back as they attempt to inspect his body for injuries. His gaze is unbroken.
I feel Jungkook near me, who places a gentle hand against the nape of my neck to slowly push me up.
"Are you okay?" He says, leaning me against his chest as I rest my head against his shoulders. It was hard to believe he wasn't even ten yet. I nod.
And then I see Taehyung slowly reach an arm out towards me. His hand finds mine, and I feel it constrict, tightening his hold on my palm.
He closes his eyes, and the hold on my hand loosens. I squeeze right back. I was here. He'd be safe.

"Ares."
"Artemis," I correct, putting the card away as Taehyung scowls, arms crossed over his chest. "Ares is her twin."
"They look the same!"
"The Aamon must be able to tell all souls apart. Besides, Ares has higher cheekbones."
That gives me an even bigger scowl, as Taehyung makes a very frustrated grumble that has a guard flinching and Hector suddenly nervous. Ever since the anger episode, everyone seemed to walk on glass around Taehyung, wary to even make him pout.
Everyone except Jungkook and I, that is.
"Perhaps that is enough for today," Hector says. "The Aamon has had a long day."
"Perhaps yes!" Taehyung cheers, suddenly sitting up, the grin on his face.
"Perhaps no," I reply. "You must memorize five hundred names, faces and ranks by today."
"I've already done two hundred!"
"Then you're nearly halfway there. Step to it."
Taehyung flops down against the bed, muttering curses under his breath, though he dutifully has a stack of cards in his hands, which he goes through carefully.
He'd demanded to be returned to the hotel, as news of him in the Hunter's stronghold would not be met well by the other Courts. Unfortunately, the hotel was well damaged from Hael's visit, and renovation was being done the quickest it possibly could, to appease Taehyung.
Of course, I knew Taehyung as a person would never wield his power around as a way to bully others, no matter how powerful he was or how necessity deemed it. But perhaps he'd been tired of people constantly telling him what to do and dictating his every move. He's made no move whatsoever the past four days we've been here to correct anyone who thinks he is a princess that must be constantly appeased. Maybe he was starting to like the attention a tiny bit.
The Victor sits on the opposite couch, a smile that somehow looked both amused and cunning on his face as he stares at Taehyung. He turns to me, the smile still there. I hear him whisper a silencing spell, the bubble extending to the four of us around the coffee table.
"His rule will be quite amusing."
"That is if he manages to get past his coronation," Hector notes, sipping his tea, eyes still on Taehyung.
I glare at the old man, but refrain from getting up to smack him. Jungkook asleep against my lap effectively stops me. He'd taken the brunt of injuries from Taehyung's unleashed power, and spent most of his days sleeping in order to heal. I'd offered him assistance in terms of extra power to heal, but he'd declined and I'd respected that.
He had however, taken a liking to sticking to my side lately. Apparently the warmth I radiated was soothing against his still healing body. I didn't mind that much, but I admit it was stifling, considering his weight.
"He will," I say. Jungkook shifts in his sleep, and I rest a palm against his cheek to soothe him. "I will see to it."
"What will your father say," the Victor muses, eyes on me. I bristle at that. "His Son Azazel supporting the one who will be responsible for his downfall."
"I wish to have no association with a being so vile," I answer. "If Taehyung manages to kill him, then it will only be an added bonus."
"You seem to have taken a liking to spiting him," Hector says, his tone almost dismissive. "Strange, coming from his favourite son."
I smile, though there is no amusement behind it.
"So what will the Hunters' Court do, now that you know Azazel walks the Earth with the Aamon?"
"A lot could be done," the Victor shrugs.
"I request that you keep this knowledge to yourselves," I say, hard eyes on him.
"And why must that be? Having the other Courts assume we have Azazel on our side will be greatest advantage we could ever have. Imagine that, the Aamon and the Son of the Fallen Angel right under our roof."
"It will also make you a target. Do you honestly think Lucifer will look at all this with amusement? He wields power much stronger than Taehyung could ever hold. He will only want to jump into the game and take everything for himself. I know my father."
"And that is why we have the Aamon," the Victor muses.
"Taehyung would *never* fight for your cause."
"Perhaps. But he will fight for *yours*." The smile spreads into a frightening Cheshire grin, as he rests his chin against his propped up hand.
I narrow my eyes at him. It helped to somehow lessen the stupid.
"Are you willing to take the slightest chance that Lucifer will stand with you? He looks at the Earth like a chess game. Made of chocolate." I had no idea where that comparison came from, but it somehow made sense. "You are all pawns to him, ones he will eat as soon as the game bores him. Why would a Fallen Angel, who wars with God at regular intervals, who has his own *army*, a legion of Djinn and demons willing to die for him and his own kingdom, even think of joining you? What could you offer that he doesn't have, doesn't have the ability to obtain on his own?"
"Why, the Aamon of course," the Victor answers, and the coyness of his tone, the way he saw everything so *lightly* made me want to wrap my hands around his throat once more. "The only person capable of stopping Lucifer's ascension is the Aamon. And we have him right now, fretting on the bed like a child on a bad day."
I feel my power bristle, and I let my human form waver, giving him hints of the beast that was my true form beneath the façade.
"Do you honestly think I will stand by as you serve Taehyung to Satan on *a plate*?" My voice has deepened, undertaking a multitude layer of voices that reflect the extent of sheer power I was exuding. *"I will rip your Court, your staff, your family and then you to shreds before you even lay a hand on the Aamon!"*
It was a warning. I had enough power in me to singlehandedly destroy all that the Victor had built, all that he had worked on. I could raze it to the ground in a day, and I was letting him know it.
*"I give you two choices, Victor,"* I continue, leveling my eyes at him. *"You appease Taehyung. And he will willingly work for you. The boy is kind. He sees you as family, as those who have raised him. And I shall not stop any stupid decision he partakes in your name. But you harm him, you make my origin known, you make a foolish deal with Lucifer and dare to think he would help you, and I shall destroy you, and everything associated with you, before Lucifer can even get to you."*
I blink, solidifying my human form as Jungkook fidgets once more.
"Do I make myself clear?"
The smile on the Victor's face is gone. No surprise. A being as powerful as him was not used to being put in his place. I doubt he'd even been spoken out against.
"Perhaps… he has a point, Your Highness." Surprise, surprise. Hector was on my side. "Prophecies and texts only ever speak of Lucifer as a being of pure -"
"I am aware." All the friendly air that the Victor had previously carried is gone, and he looks at me now similarly to how Hael had. Suppressing the need to smite me. "I suppose the news would be a bit of shock to the public. Who would believe that Lucifer's favourite son would be here on Earth, pairing with the being in charge of his downfall."
I tilt my head at him, smiling lightly.
"Yes," I agree. "Who would believe you?"
Out of the corner of the eye, Taehyung suddenly sits up, eyes wide and mouthing my name. The Victor drops the silencing spell, and our ears are suddenly assaulted with Taehyung's screeching.
"Jin, Jin, Jin!" He runs to me, waving his stack of cards about as his arms flail wildly. I really was looking at the current ruling Aamon, I tell myself. He really was the being who was the Guardian of the Forty Legions of Hell. "LOOKATDISSSSSSS!!"
And he jumps over the couch, flopping down in a heavy landing as he takes a seat by my side. "DOESNTHELOOKLIKEYOU??"
I glance at the card Taehyung is pointing so vehemently at, at the name, face and title.
"Yes, Taehyung," I say, looking up at him, the small smile still on my lips. "That's my brother."
Taehyung's eyes widen to comical length, as he dramatically leans away from me, placing the card an arm's length away from him. He glances from my face to the card a few times, still gawking like an idiot fish. After simply staring between the two, he leans towards me, close enough that I have to lean away. "Your brother is an invited guest?!"
I catch the Victor going back to his relaxed manner, that annoying smile back on his face.
I realise what I must look like, with a child snoozing against my lap and another by my side continuously shoving a picture into my face. It was a far cry from who I was a decade ago. I looked nothing like the feared Prince of Hell I once was.
"Yes," I hear him mutter under his breathe. "Who would believe me."