When Arthur Kirkland first heard about the demons at the Royal Gate, trying to break in, he couldn't help but start to panic. Demons? Up here? Preposterous. It was ridiculous to believe; geographically, that could never happen.
Above the earth was Heaven, and below the earth was Hell. In between was where the living dwelled. Heaven was the land of angels, the powerful and peaceful beings that protected the mortals that had passed on to a new life. And those mortals were also angels; the only difference was some, like Arthur, were Guardians for a specific family; for instance, he had been granted the duty of protecting the Royal Family of the United Kingdom, his former home and, to him, his true home, no matter where he was located. And now there was a rather large gang of demons, henchmen (and sometimes women) to Satan, wanting to barge in and destroy everything.
With no thought but to stop them, he picked up his bow, checking to see he had enough arrows (perfectly harmless to anyone but demons and the like) and jumped in the air and off the small cliff of clouds his perch was positioned at, spreading his wings and letting himself glide down to where the Royal Gate was. And that's when he looked and saw the demons, Sons of the Dark, as the Guardians called them. Arthur landed as close as he could to the gate and tried to push his way to the front.
When in their demon form, nearly all of them looked similar to humans, as well as identical to one another. Their hair varied in color but was always disheveled in some way; spiraled horns protruded on either side of their heads, either directed down or up. Their skin matched the shade of the moon, lips a rosy, blood red and fangs slightly poking out of their mouths, with their eyes all various shades of red. Where the Guardians, the angels, had beautiful white, feathered wings, demons were bat-like, with three separated points on the top, and felt like leather. But once they transformed into their Beast form, they were faster, stronger, more of a threat, and simply too overcome with blood lust to take them over.
Yao Wang, another Guardian and best friend of the Briton, tugged Arthur forwards suddenly. His long brown hair was disheveled and messy inside his ponytail and underneath the lightly dimmed halo that floated above his head, gold eyes wide as he stared into his friend's green with panic and fright.
"We need help! Get them to go home aru! They no listen to anyone else! Please aru!" He begged, face clearly showing distraught.
"Yao, relax," he soothed his good friend. "I'll handle this, I promise."
"Xièxiè! Xièxiè!" He hugged the Brit tightly before following him to the front of the gate. Many of the Guardians in the crowd he recognized immediately: the quiet Matthew, the boisterous Feliciano and his brother, the cranky Lovino, and many more than he could ever count. But they let the two through quickly, making a small path for the two before they finally reached the gate. Arthur, ever brave and not afraid of their enemies at all, stood tall (or as tall as he could, at his short height) and glared harshly at the most likely hundreds of demons snarling at him. Yao stood beside him, eyes firm but fear still shown.
"You know you are not allowed on these sacred grounds," the Englishman began, placing his hands on two of the bars on the gate tightly. "Leave now, or else we will have to force you out."
"Oh~, he's a fresh thing," the demon closest to him sneered. He took on the appearance of a normal Son of the Dark, but a mask covered his blood red eyes. "You'd be quite delicious, wouldn't ya Feathers?" The rest of his gang cackled in laughter.
Arthur frowned, eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "State your name and reason for attempted invasion."
The demon, most likely Turkish judging by his accent, chuckled darkly. "Alright; you want to talk business, I see. I am called Sadık, and we would like some Angel Blood."
"Tough aru!" Yao retorted. "You not getting any!" He flinched at the glares he received, but otherwise didn't step away.
"You'd be most delicious," he grinned sinisterly, and gave a sniff towards him. "Maybe get some fried rice or eggroll with your blood?" He rudely laughed, followed by more uproars from the group; Yao only pouted with a frown. Arthur grabbed an arrow from the quiver across his back and aimed it through the bars of the gate.
"One more insulting word and I'm running you all through," he threatened, keeping his eyes leveled with the others. Another demon stepped up close to him, and Arthur resisted the urge to barf at the smell. Demons always reeked of Hell and blood.
"You wouldn't dare shoot any of us," he said in a low, seductive French accent, eyes half-lidded. "Alzough I would love to shoot somezing into zat fabulous little ass of yours."
"That's revolting!" He snapped with a light tinted blush upon his cheeks.
"Ah, oui, but you seem to like it judging by your cheeks, non?"
He tightened his grip and pulled the string back even more. "I will shoot you right now if you don't quiet yourself down." A few more angels that were experienced with fighting, including Yao, followed his lead, pulling an arrow against the string of the bow and aiming.
"Oh~, what an angel, willing to shoot a humble, lonely demon longing for love like moi, just to defend 'is 'ome." He sighed; "'ow lovely~!"
"Arthur growled; "Bugger off, you frog;" and let the arrow fly the short distance—
-only to hit the lock on the gate and undo it, dropping to the ground and letting the gate open.
"Wha-?" His bow dropped in shock as the French demon smirked and chuckled. Most of the Guardians in the crowd gasped, others either preparing to defend their home, experience or not, while some prepared to surrender (Feliciano Vargas seemed to have a habit of doing that, even when he was still living) or stepped back, ready to run.
"Ohonhon~! Merci, cher. Merci."
And with a single push to make sure the entrance really was open, the Sons of the Dark attacked.
Angels flew up into the air quickly, attempting to gain some sort of air distance between them. Some of the Demons transformed to make themselves faster and to catch more meat that way, and in no more than a minute, the gold-and-red blood of angels had started to pour onto their haven.
Yao and Arthur managed to escape together, staying closely side by side throughout the attacking crowd. As they passed, they saw too many of their companions being attacked, and the Englishman couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as he escaped upwards: Feliciano cornered by a silent, threatening-looking man that towered over his shaking, weeping (and surrendering) form; Lovino shouting as a Minotaur plowed him to the ground before changing form back to a demon; Matthew roughly being grabbed and groped by the Frenchman from earlier; Toris, Eduard and Raivis being pursued by a tall demon chanting a strange assortment of words in what seemed to be Russian; Elizabeta captured in the talons of a large, black hawk, yet still fighting, even though it was obvious that she wouldn't be staying in their sanctuary. This wasn't a safe place anymore; this was a complete and utter panic-stricken chaotic haven to madness and pandemonium.
The duo stopped at a high point, landing gracefully and running along the platforms to the armory, where the extra weapons were kept. Both were silent besides their panting breaths and the screams that were heard from below them. But both were far from discouraged; they were determined to fight until they could move no more. And when and if they reached that point, they would still try to battle.
But their plan was disturbed when the platform in front of them was no longer leveled but being flung upwards, bringing the two to a glide through the air uncontrollably. Arthur bounced off a little further from Yao, landing on his side as blood started to pour from a wound on the back of his head. With a groan under his breath, he started to get up, but a clawed hand rested sharply on his arm, digging in but not drawing blood and causing him enough pain to stop moving. When he wondered why he had done that (for some reason, demons had a habit of holding angels with both hands), he noticed Yao lying on his stomach start to push his arms on the ground to get himself up. What his friend didn't notice, however, was the monster coming up beside him with a clawed hand by his side. The Brit gasped and opened his mouth to speak, but the demon pinning him down grabbed his cheeks with his claws to push his cheeks together and silence him. When the blond tried to look behind him to get a good examination at who was holding him down, he was once again looking at Yao, the claws now drawing blood from his cheeks as they forced him to watch.
Yao moaned lightly, rubbing his chin as a thin trail of blood dripped down from his eyebrow. The demon stood behind him now, quiet in his footsteps and dark in his motives. Arthur could tell what was going to occur, and whined to get his face out of the hold, but a dark voice whispered into his ear.
"I wouldn't talk if I were you," he calmly yet evilly mumbled to him. The captured angel inhaled sharply, trying not to tremble out of fear and worry. This was it- Yao would die, he would die, their home would perish-
The demon above Yao pulled his hand upwards, stepping back a bit, and slashed down, carving a deep scar into his back and slicing off feathers from his wings. Instincts took over him as he screamed and his wings unfurled, only to be grabbed by the bloody claw and clipped, one by one. His fingers curled into the platform beneath him, his back arched as his shriek of agony echoed. Arthur, who had shouted with him, started to silently weep, tears streaking down his face as he could do nothing but watch, wanting to look away but unable to. Yao soon silenced down, however, into small choked sobs and cries before passing out against the gold.
The angel holding down Arthur flipped him over so he was lying down on his back, the claws nuzzling into his shoulders and his wings spread out on either side of him. The demon above him licked his lips and chuckled. "You're more delectable than I thought you would be," he chuckled. He looked like most demons, a cowlick sticking up from his blue-black hair and his eyes pale red, an uncommon iris color for demons. The Son of the Dark grinned, licked his lips and leaned in close to whisper;