Chapter Text
Thank goodnessss, Crowley thought. I thought the fourteenth century would never end. He yawned and stretched until his scaly body was at stretching capacity. Once his body was warmed up, he coiled himself into a tight spiral and sighed. He wondered what had happened in the last two decades since he had gone to sleep.
Crowley had gotten sick of the war and all that multiple pope business, as if one wasn’t bad enough. They never got the stories quite right, especially those regarding him. The Catholic Church had them convinced that he was doomed to crawl for the rest of his life after he had tempted Eve, but that was obviously wrong. He even had witnesses to prove it. He had already Fallen, so what else could the Almighty really do? Well, She probably could do a lot, but Crowley wasn’t going to press his luck.
On top of that, he hadn’t seen Aziraphale in a while. Truthfully, that had been the kicker. After inquiring about a possible Arrangement between the two of them and being aggressively rejected by the angel, he hadn’t seen him much. Thankfully, after a few centuries, Aziraphale finally came around and agreed to a small deal. If either of them was sent to the same place to cancel each other out once again, only one would do both blessing and tempting, only if they were extremely careful. Or, if circumstances were most dire, a rescue was in order.
This came in handy during the First Crusades when Aziraphale had almost joined the raid against the Seljuk Turks. He was told that a group of people were going to visit the Turks and the angel had thought they were meeting for dinner. He was excited by the new cuisine. Crowley had to step in before the army had left and rolled his eyes as he saw Aziraphale standing with a fork in one hand and a knife in the other with the biggest (and hungriest) smile on his face.
After that, he hadn’t seen the angel. He had missed their banter and the occasional soft touch. People rarely interacted with Crowley because of the bad vibes he gave off, but that never seemed to bother Aziraphale. His heart had ached to see him again, but after the rejection of even a friendship between the two, Crowley was worn out. To be truthful, he had longed for much more than that, but it seemed that Aziraphale just wasn't interested. He feared that the angel would never end up being his angel. But could Crowley blame him? He was a demon, after all. Hereditary enemies and what not. He just hoped that one day Aziraphale would be able to look past all the labels and see him for what he truly was: a fool head over heels in love with someone who hadn’t confirmed nor hinted at their affections. After all the overthinking and analyzing, he decided the best thing to do was to just go to sleep.
He originally went to sleep in his human form, dressed in a decadent robe that he had custom-made. However, since his stone house kept the temperature inside quite cool, a decade in to his two-decade sleep, Crowley transformed into a snake so he could bury himself in the extravagant pillows and blankets. He wasn’t afraid to admit that he liked the finery of life and Satan forbid he ever be out of style. Now, though, he was starting to get uncomfortable and even a bit peckish.
Crowley morphed into his human form and blinked a few times. Getting used to eyelids after being a snake for a while was always a weird experience for the demon. It was just like relearning to ride a bike: not difficult but annoying. Once he got his bearings, Crowley sighed and walked to look outside the window, his robe lightly brushing the floor as he went. How much has changed in twenty years? He wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but what he did see definitely wasn’t it.
Outside, a massive crowd was gathered around an extravagant wagon with a man in equally extravagant clothing stood atop. He seemed to be yelling something. “Might as well check that out,” Crowley muttered before performing a demonic miracle to dress himself. His ensemble was a dark puffy tunic trimmed with dark blue with equally dark blue tights to accent. “Not terrible, but what am I forgetting?” Crowley hissed a little while he thought and then realized. “Of course,” he said as a delightful pair of dark spectacles with a rather sharp nose hinge sat on his nose and hid his reptilian eyes. Then, like he was always there, he appeared outside with the crowd and listened curiously to the incredibly excited man.
“Come one, come all to this holiday ball,” the herald bellowed in the jolliest of voices. “For snow shall fall outside the hall!” Crowley rolled his eyes. He hated rhyming. He did invent it, but he didn’t know that it would catch on as fast as it did. He hoped the obsession with fitting words in phrases eloquently would be over soon.
“This grand old day will be filled with cheer and we hope that you all would be here!” He opened a scroll that featured a lovely painting of the palace up on the top of the hill. Crowley snorted. “That’s new,” he chuckled.
“On Christmas Eve, in a fortnight, we want you to go to that height! A party is held by the king alone and he wants you to dance in the room of his throne!” The herald was starting to get light-headed, so he took a breath. “One more thing, it’s all we ask, but please, oh please, do wear a mask!”
He stopped and smiled at the crowd, waiting for something like a cheer. When he realized that most of the people didn’t understand what he had said, the herald rolled his eyes and sighed. “The king is holding a masquerade ball for the whole kingdom in celebration of the Christmas season. On Christmas Eve, a fortnight from now, everyone should come to the castle dressed in a costume and mask and dance the night away. That is all.”
The herald held onto the wagon as the royal steeds departed back towards the castle. The townspeople were muttering with excitement and glee. Crowley, on the other hand, just stood alone. He assumed that Aziraphale was behind this ‘masquerade ball’. A time of cheer where people could dance and be merry, and undoubtedly with lots of food? Seemed right in the angel’s wheelhouse, if you asked him. Crowley wanted to show up just to see if his acquaintance would be there, but would it be too risky? Would it even be fun? Crowley wasn’t one for social gatherings since he was always surrounded by demons during his visits to Hell, but if he knew his angel-the angel, what am I thinking- he would be there and any time with him would be better than none. Before he could make a solid plan, his tummy rumbled with a sound only a tummy twenty years without food could make. He felt almost as hungry as Aziraphale during the Crusades. This ball would just have to wait.
“Right,” Crowley grumbled. “Whose Pope do you have to tempt to get some beef stew around here?”