fallen angel - n.h.

i. - somethin' like yer guardian angel

✖️- i. -✖️

PROLOGUE
3rd person narrative p.o.v

• n.h. •

"Fuck." His fingers ran through his hair in nervousness.

He was summoned by the court of Archangels. It was expected after almost being dead for 50 years-half a century. A second assignment, to go into the mortal world and ally with a human battling with his or her demon(s). But despite that, he knew he was in trouble. Nothing too unusual.

"Your semi-centennial assignment shall be to a young girl-"

"What fer?" His eyes were wide, ignoring the fact that interrupting an Angel beyond his rank was intolerable. In his fifty years as an Angel in Heaven, he was still the 22 year old man he was when he died.

This was the same troublemaker who walked into his death with a glint in his eye, a bloodred smirk to match.

The Archangel Raphael's beyond human features did not reflect his displeasure. "Your will is God's, Angel. Understand that without question you do as He wills it be done." The voice was strong and clear.

"Guess so." He shrugs, feeling little towards the idea. "Yeh. So I just watch over the girl." His voice showed his reluctance towards the idea.

However long this will take. A month maybe?

Archangel Gabriel interjects, as if reading the angel's mind. His voice rose. "Do not take this lightly Angel. God-"

"Why doesn't He tell me Himself then? It would be nice if He were around once in a while. It's always about God to you guys. God this God that. Dear God, yev all got daddy issues." The Angel rolls his eyes, was daring, challenging those who were in highest favor with God. Who had lived eons while he would be just a seventy something year old man on earth if he was alive.

If he hadn't been killed.

The Archangel Michael rose to his full stature, large as a Greek column in the Parthenon, even grander. "Do not be blasphemous. In the fifty years since you rose to heaven, not once have you shown clear devotion to Our Father. We pitied you, we saw to it that the soul of your murdered body would not fall to Death and Evil forever. God rose you up as His child. Now we shall see to it that you will no longer enjoy what our Father hath wrought to you. I suggest that you shall do this without challenging our authority." He tips his chin up, eyes narrowed at the small Angel below him. The small Angel below him who scratched his chin quizzically with a crease in his brow, the little dimple at his chin shown.

I hardly believed in God to begin with. Never had reason to.

Archangel Raguel, the overseer of harmony amongst the angels, stands as Michael sits. "Niall Horan, you are assigned to be the Guardian Angel to Imogen Lowell." An image of a beautiful young face, about his eternal age, flickered at the forefront of his mind. The Angel withheld a gasp at how fleeting the image had shown with little preamble. "You will show her what love is."

Wait.

"Love?" The young Angel wears an expression of confusion. "You've made a mistake. I can't exactly do that fer ya. You all know what happened to meh? Of course you do I mean-I never-"

"Of course. We know everything." They all calmly speak as one court.

Fuckin' creepy.

They continue. "You are aware of the Love Lines, are you not?" Archangel Haniel, keeper of secrets, asks.