Title: Golden
Fandom: League of Angels: Fire Raiders
Rating: general
Length: ~200 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: just a tiny little thing but it's been so long since I managed to write much anything at all. Thanks for running this community and providing an opportunity!
Summary: There are many things he doesn't remember.


He doesn't remember his name. It's one of many things that have been lost to time, but one that unsettles the rest of the princess's war party more than most. The others—the living; he doesn't let himself dance around it—have taken to calling him the Death Slayer, a superstitious kenning that allows them to not name the taboo of what he is, so they can go on happily without considering it.

He wonders if he would have disdained that in the past. It seems in character for the person the others believe him to be: demanding, relentless, cold not only to the touch.

But he's not so certain. There is a warmth he feels, sometimes, as he watches the others in between battles: the glow of Mirabelle's feathers by firelight. The way Atalanta tosses her hair back as she prepares for another round of sparring with her knight friend. The bright peals of laughter from the little blue witch as Pyrona turns some unwary soul into a sheep.

It's not precisely a memory, but it's more than a simple emotion, a thread of vibrant life leading from his stopped heart to some golden moment in the past, out of reach.

For a chance to bask more purely in that golden warmth, he would march with the princess's warriors into the pits of hell itself.