Chapter Text
Heaven's cells were so nice and cozy that Nithael couldn't really complain. So much better than any abyss. Not that she would ever say this to her demonic compatriots of course, but she didn't think they'd actually disagree with her either, so long as anyone from the Dark Council wasn't present.
She also didn't think any of them even knew she was still gone. In fact, the only reason she'd even known about the trial in the first place was because she'd already been in Heaven for business purposes a few days before and... well, Cervial always was a bit of a blabbermouth. How they were still with the Observer for as long as they had was a mystery even to her.
Nithael knew she would be unwelcome, but she didn't care. Maybe it would be entertaining and besides, she still needed a test subject. Might as well take the opportunity, right?
And entertaining it was! And surprisingly dramatic. After the Virgin's testimony, she wondered which other spirits were capable of turning against those pretentious Archangels. But even she believed that Gabriel had already been through enough—for today, at least. As for Michael...
It'll never be enough! Nithael gripped onto a cell bar tightly at the thought of her former boss. At least she'd been able to embarrass her before she put her spell to work. She learned about the backchannels through pure chance and it hadn't been hard to get the correspondence records either since she never really left Communications—a job which partially required her to keep an eye on the written words of leaders, including Michael's.
But angels, it seemed, had very selective memories.
The old bird even still had the audacity to give her orders. Despite her position, she hadn't considered herself an angel in a long time and the only reason she never changed her name was more out of mockery than anything.
Thankfully, not all Archangels were completely useless. She had Gabriel to thank for the idea for a transformation spell ever since his stupidity had gotten him temporarily cast out of Heaven. As far as Nithael knew, he'd still retained his powers during this time. But what if he hadn't?
So, she went to work as soon as she heard the news, but because its completion was recent, she didn't know if her spell would actually be successful until she saw the lack of ashes. But if she'd ended up killing Michael instead, that would've been just fine with her as well, although it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun. And if Haniel and the others weren't going to be grateful of what she'd done, then it was their loss. Even in Hell, hardly anyone appreciated her genius.
Maybe they will after I tell them my plan worked. The thought of finally being respected and perhaps even feared genuinely made her feel giddy, though something told her Satan—the only one who knew of her plan—simply wouldn't allow for anyone to be more powerful than him, even if he did give her approval to hurt his sister. And she doubted Heaven would let something like this get out anyway, which she suspected was the main reason why she was still here, away from the other prisoners.
But why couldn't they have at least stationed a guard near her cell for her to annoy? Despite her comfort, it didn't take long for her to get bored. Now I remember why I rebelled.
At least her phone hadn't been confiscated, but the one she had on her was an old model and she wasn't in the mood to be yelled at by Belphegor again, even though she was older than him and the only reason he was even on the Council in the first place was because he just so happened to be in the right place at the right time during the reign of some emperor or other (after awhile, the centuries just all tend to blur together).
She never did understand why he'd been given the position of Sloth, though. Ironic, since he was an inventor.
"Nithael!"
She could almost hear that French accent of his. I must finally be going mad.
"Imbécile! I've been trying to call you for hours!"
Oh no. That was his voice.
Nithael forced a smile and prepared to apologize—as much her dignity would allow, that is—but her face fell when she saw him. His blond hair was horribly unkempt and his black suit was all wrinkly. She really couldn't help but feel embarrassed by him; just because he represented Sloth didn't mean he had to embody it.
The head guard of the second heaven Galizur trailed after him, and judging by the annoyed expression on their face, it seemed like they were trying to stop him from reaching his co-worker since he arrived and then gave up halfway.
Nithael scrunched her nose the closer Belphegor got, and she soon realized his appearance may not have been due to lack of effort after all. He must've been with Asmodeus right before he got here, she thought as she tried not to gag from the musky stink of lust. It was times like these where she actually envied the angels and suddenly staying in here didn't seem so bad.
But she did her best to ignore it; unless it interfered with any missions or directly posed a threat to Hell, a demon's private life was largely their own business. "Sorry, Belphegor. But my phone was on silent and—"
"Oh, enough with your excuses!"
Nithael withheld a sigh. The interruptions were really beginning to annoy her.
Belphegor then turned to Galizur. "Allons! Let her out!"
The guard shook their head. "In case you've forgotten, demon, I have no reason to listen to you. You're lucky to have made it this far at all."
"Oh, relax. I'm only here to collect my employee. Now if you would please let her out."
"Even if I wanted to—which I don't—I can't. I'm under orders to not release her."
"Orders?" Belphegor asked, confused. "By whom? Wait, let me guess. Michel's, right? Or Gabriel's? Those two have always been so paranoid. Nithael's completely harmless."
The imprisoned demon stifled a laugh.
"Let me talk to one of them so this can get all sorted out. She has a few assignments I've been meaning to give her."
And knowing Belphegor, they likely consisted of just encouraging children to procrastinate. There was a reason why Nithael had stuck with such a young form in the last century or so. Still, she always thought such tasks were beneath her, and she was just itching to get back to influencing world leaders to act like idiots in public instead (not that they needed her help, but at least it was more fun).
Galizur sighed exasperatedly. "You're not going to leave until you get her out of here, are you?"
"Absolutely not."
They frowned, but soon pulled out their phone to call someone.
As they were doing this, Belphegor turned to Nithael. "So what exactly did you do to get arrested?"
"Nothing!" came the defensive reply. "It's like you said, Michael and Gabriel are just paranoid. Can't say I blame them though, what with the failed Apocalypse and everything."
Belphegor didn't seem to believe her, but fortunately didn't press her further. "Keep your secrets, then. I just hope whatever you did has no impact on us."
Nithael gave him her most innocent of smiles. "Of course not, Belphegor! Don't you trust me?"
"Let me think... Non."
She wasn't surprised. Save for a few exceptions, demons didn't normally trust each other. Or maybe it was that they just didn't trust her. That last one seemed more likely the more she thought about it; that was the downside of her being a Fallen Bearer.
Hurried footsteps soon sounded on the reflective floor, and Nithael saw it was Raguel who was approaching them. Her gray eyes landed on Belphegor as she narrowed them. "What are you doing here? And make this quick, I'm very busy at the moment."
Nithael guessed she'd likely been in the middle of presiding over the other trials.
Belphegor crossed his arms. "My supervisee here needs to work, but then I find out that she's been imprisoned for supposedly doing nothing. Now, if you would be a dear and order your guard here to release her so that we may both get on with our lives?"
"He won't leave without her, ma'am," Galizur added.
Raguel's troubled gaze glanced between the three beings. "She told you nothing, then?" she asked Belphegor slowly.
He shook his head. "Unless she was lying and whatever she's done affects my co-workers." He then glared at the little demon. "And she knows the punishment for potential betrayal."
Nithael bowed her head submissively, though the threat did little to bother her in reality. She knew it was an empty one, and Hell wouldn't dare risk losing another demon so soon after Ligur's death and Crowley's defection. Besides, her spell only affected angels, anyway.
Raguel seemed uncertain on what to do. "She must stay here," she replied, though her voice was so low that it almost seemed like she was talking to herself.
"Well, either she did something or not!" Belphegor said impatiently. "Or is an angel of justice really imprisoning demons for little to no reason?"
Raguel shuffled a foot uncomfortably and seemed to be considering her options before holding out a hand to Galizur. The guard warily handed her the key and the judge stepped forward to open the cell herself.
"Just in case," Raguel whispered to Nithael once she was close enough, "I hereby forbid you from telling any of your co-workers about what has transpired today." She quickly took the demon's hand into hers as soon as the door was open, and Nithael immediately felt a sharp surge of electricity course through her.
"Finally!" Belphegor quickly gripped onto his co-worker's wrist tighter than what was necessary, and the smaller demon tried not to wince. "Allons-y. The sooner we're out of here, the better."
For just a moment, Nithael thought she saw concern in Raguel's and Galizur's eyes as she was being dragged away.
Nithael was grateful to be back in her office. Sure, it may have been small and cramped, but it was hers. Here, no one could yell at all or insult her or underestimate her. It helped that she'd recently had soundproof walls put in place and all her former office mates had returned to their duties as field agents.
As soon as she was alone, the first thing she did was made it so her wrist no longer hurt, though she was never one to take the mistreatment personally. They were all demons, after all and the Dark Council was just horrible towards everyone, though Beelzebub was certainly better compared to the rest of them.
It wasn't like she could do anything about it, anyway. After all, she was only one demon.
One demon who ended up taking down the Archangel Michael all on her own. So what if...?
No, it simply wouldn't be possible. Hell's residents were already resistant to Hellfire. She'd have to use holy water instead, but even if the thought didn't make her uncomfortable and it somehow did work, there was no telling if her spell would get her the results she wanted.
But I didn't know if my spell on Michael would work either, Nithael reminded herself.
Suddenly, a large stack of papers appeared on her desk and there was a note from Belphegor attached to it, reading: "Because you're so focused on whatever it is you've been doing, I'm giving you some extra assignments to make up for lost time. Do try to get them done as soon as possible."
She'd only gone through a few of them by the time she realized that all of them were basically the same as always: encourage procrastination.
"This is ridiculous!" Nithael hissed. She had once dripped in gold while flirting with handsome kings and mighty pharaohs, had influenced them on how 'best' to run their country... How had she fallen so far? At the very least, a little variety would be nice. True, she could always file a complaint or make a request to go back to her old job, but she already knew Belphegor would never listen.
Not unless she took matters into her own hands.
And unlike with Michael, she was absolutely sure no one would actually miss Belphegor if he was gone; even his relationship with Asmodeus wasn't anything serious. All it would lead to was a vacant seat on the Council, one that could be easily refilled should the worst happen. With any luck, he'd grow too impulsive and cause his own death. This was why the representative for Wrath was always changing, so there was no reason to think the same couldn't apply to the other Sins.
Maybe I could be on it. Nithael laughed at her own little joke. I always did want to have my own throne.
But fantasies were fantasies. And besides, she would never turn against her own kind, however horrible they were.
But then again, Nithael thought as she set the note ablaze, isn't dreaming just another form of planning?