Gramander Oneshots

The Devil's Angel

"Percival, My Lord," his second-in-command spoke, bowed before him as he sat in his onyx throne, grey eyes aflame at having Abernathy interrupt his plotting.

"What do you want?" He asked, voice sharp like a sword and echoing off the walls of the throne room, but Abernathy seemed unphased. After all, you get used to the Ruler of the Underworld's attitude after working under him for over a millennium.

"Well... how would you feel about having a—"

"If what I think is going to come out of your mouth is correct, then no," Percival cut him off, expression less than amused. "You ask me this every year and I refuse repeatedly."

"But Sir—"

"No." He didn't raise his voice whatsoever, but infused it with such a malice that made it seem as if he did, causing Abernathy to flinch and direct his eyes to the polished floor, which was made out of the same onyx of Percival's throne.

Another voice met his ears from behind Abernathy and he watched as Seraphina moved around the man, hands folded before her as a devious smile adorned her face. "Even though I know you most detest the idea of having a Queen, I believe you should take a look at the one Abernathy's picked out this time." Her sparkling eyes and convinced tone made Percival narrow his eyes at the elegant woman.

"What has made you take his side this time, Picquery?" All she answered with was a shrug of her shoulders, the ends of her blood-red dress momentarily lifting from the floor, satin reflecting the light from the torches mounted on the wall. Looking back and forth between the pair's identically hopeful faces, he pinched the bridge of his nose and released an exasperated sigh. The tenseness of the following silence ceased when he hastily stood, demeanour lacking in the enthusiasm department.

"If I don't fall in love at first sight, I swear to myself that I will have you both personally groom Cerberus for a year." Abernathy's face drained of colour at the mention of the three-headed dog, but Seraphina remained confident in her stance, going as far as to excitedly clap. Not even one of Percival's infamous glares broke her incessant joy.

"If you'd please come with me then, Mr. Hades," she spoke teasingly, wiggling her eyebrows and extending her right arm toward him. "Your Queen awaits."

"Remind me again why I keep you here, Picquery," Percival drawled, moving so graciously that it wouldn't be surprising if he was floating, joining her at her side.

"Because your gardens would look absolutely dreadful," she answered half-jokingly, eliciting a rare grin from the man as he looped his arm with hers. The smile vanished the moment he remembered what they were doing and he had to restrain from sighing again.

"Take me to this incredible being, as according to you," he ordered, giving Abernathy who still stiffly stood in his place a farewell nod, before the pair dematerialised. Off somewhere in the distance, Abernathy could hear a ferocious roar emanate from the Cerberus, and an unsettled feeling twisted his gut. He hoped he picked well this time.

***

When they came to, Percival observed his surroundings, brows aloft with confusion. They stood in a field with rows upon rows of violet flowers spanning all the way to the horizon, saturating the air with their floral but pleasant aroma, and the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden light upon everything in sight. "Where are we?" He asked, watching as people traipsed up and down amongst the bushes.

"Provence, France, in a lavender field it seems," she stated matter-of-factly, letting one of her hands brush over one of the waist-high plants. "Abernathy and I placed a tracking spell on the guy we're seeking and it seems this is where he is at the current moment." This explanation would've been fine if it weren't for one word in the sentence that made his blood ran cold.