(World Thraphis)
The time had come, judgement day. Thraphis was in an uproar and rightfully so, what he had done was treason, and the Kingdom had fallen under attack by warring planets. Kingdoms were clashing, thunder and lightning shook the ground, and the smell of iron permeated the skies. Blood ran red in the rivers of Thraphis tonight and it was Azrael's doing. The strange feeling of contentment settled over him in waves, no remorse was present, and he could breathe easily. The fact that he was being dragged in chains to the throne room made little impact on him, if he were a smarter man, he would be shitting in his pants.
"Azrael!" the loud booming voice of the King shattered his thoughts, making Azrael raise his head, as high as the chains around his throat would allow.
"Yes Father?" he questioned casually.
The King was none other than God of Peace, ironic since everything around them was in utter chaos. King Ramous stared at Azrael for a long silent moment, the heat coming from that intense stare made Azrael's skin crawl, for the first time since entering the room, he finally felt a sense of dread.
"Do not call me Father, you are no son of mine," King Ramous seethed, raising a hand, he stroked his long greying beard in thought. "Do you know why you are here?" he asked.
Azrael assumed the question was rhetorical, but he shrugged his shoulders anyway, "One of your famous midday lectures I suppose but the chains are a new touch." He mused lightly.
The God of Peace brought his staff down on the ground hard, the marble floor underneath cracked, shattering a spiderweb all the way to Azrael's naked foot. There had been no time to get dressed, before the guards of the Kingdom had pulled him from his chamber. Azrael stood rather naked in front of a pretty large number of people. A throng of citizens were still entering the Throne room, he took a moment to let the attention seep into his bones, this is what they were here for after all. Attention. Azrael had no trouble admitting it, he was a jealous man, and he had been feeling sorely neglected. King Ramous had other sons and it was no secret that he valued them above his last son, the son that ruled over the shadows.
Azrael had been iced out, quite literally, ever since he was small. His older brothers were stronger and bright, so full of life. Tanus and Crispin were the Gods of Sun and Air. They were opposites compared to Azrael who was born weaker…darker. It was with his birth that he had killed his poor mother Davina, and for that he had been cursed. King Ramous had never forgiven Azrael for taking away his beloved wife, the contempt he felt for his youngest son was obvious with each glare and criticism he threw his way. It was rumored that Azrael bore a resemblance too close to that of his late mother, which spurred Ramous's hate even more having to look at him. The dark black of his hair, his pale complexion, the violet shade of his eyes were too much for the King to endure, therefore he was ignored most of the time.
"You find your actions amusing Azrael? Do you not see how many of our innocent people have died, because of your treachery?" his father asked, the anger behind his voice barely contained.
Shaking his head Azrael smiled slightly, "These…people" He waved his bound hand around the room, "are not my people father, they are yours. They are Tanus's people. They are Crispin's people. They are not my people and they never will be, you made sure of that the moment you shut me out and cast me into the Shadows." He stated bitterly.
There was a murmur around the crowd, everyone was on edge, after all it was not every day that a King's son put the realm in danger.
"You do not accept responsibility for the safety of Thraphis, you do not accept the responsibility for the safety of its people, you do not accept the responsibility that comes with being a Prince." Ramous stated in acknowledgement, "Then you would be better off dead, would you not? Rather than a liability to our people."
A hush fell amongst everyone around him, Azrael felt his body go numb, death was not a very foreign thought to him. He often sat and thought about what it would be like to die, to no longer have to carry around the constant guilt he felt in his soul, for causing the death of his mother, for being a disappointment to his Father, to the people that he saw every day.
"Father, perhaps you are being too hasty." Crispin announced standing from his chair. Tanus and Crispin both had chairs on either side of the King's throne, where he had none, he usually stood off to the side of the room when there was royal business to discuss.
Crispin had been the only person to show Azrael any sort of kindness growing up. He remembered one time that Crispin had tried including him in a childhood game, in the courtyard. The other kids had purposely not let him join, and after they had taunted Crispin, he had apologized to Azrael but turned away. Even though Crispin did not make any move to stand up for him after that, Azrael had always held that moment close to his heart. It had been the only moment in his life, when someone had tried to accept him, it made him soften slightly seeing his brother stand for him now.
"Cris-" Azrael started and was cut off by Crispin's hand in the air, silencing him.
"Azrael has made a mistake, it has cost us dearly, but he is still one of us. Azrael is still a Prince of this realm; he does not deserve to die." He said looking at his father beseechingly.
The King looked upon his son with keen eyes, even from here Azrael could see the warmth of his love, a warmth he himself had never experienced. The bitter taste of resentment coated the inside of his mouth and raw hatred bubbled under his skin. The warm gooey moment had him seething where he stood.
"Alright Crispin, what would you have him sentenced with, he does have to be punished." King Ramous retorted.
With those words, the King of Thraphis handed over the reins to his eldest son. Azrael's fate rested in his brother's hands and people in the room were silently awaiting the Prince's judgement.
Crispin turned to address him and the rest of the people, he looked at Azrael with the faintest trace of remorse, before he hardened himself for the deed ahead. "Azrael, God of Shade, I banish you to earth, where you will rule over the Phantom Realm, for the rest of your days. You will never be allowed to return to Thraphis, never be allowed to step through the gates of the home you once knew, you will forever be lost to us. You are no longer a Prince of Thraphis, you are no longer my brother." He announced sadly.
Azrael felt physically sick, his heart hammered in his chest, this was a fate far worse than death. Crispin thought that he was doing him a favor by sparing his life, but all he was doing was killing him slowly.
"That is not all." He continued, there was a shocked gasp from everyone, and Azrael saw the look of surprise come over his father's face, "For your crimes of spreading confidential intel to enemy Kingdoms, I sentence you to the life of a mute. Your mouth will be sewn shut; I hope by doing this you will learn to think before you act in the future."
Azrael blinked in shock, his brother was banishing him to earth and taking away his ability to speak. Not in all his life had he thought this would happen when he betrayed his Kingdom. Azrael had just wanted some attention from the family that had ignored him, this punishment was exactly what his father would want, to send the black sheep of the family far away never to be seen or heard from again.
A hysterical laugh escaped Azrael's mouth, "You will all regret this decision." He promised.
"Retrieve the thread of silence," Crispin told a servant who hastily nodded and left. Crispin moved down to stand in front of Azrael, he leaned toward him to whisper in his ear, "I am sorry brother. I hope that you find happiness away from here. You would have never found it staying in this unforgiving place." He said softly.
Azrael refused to acknowledge anything further, he would not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing his fear or hurt. This was the punishment for the crime he committed, this was always a possibility, and he had to accept the consequences of his actions. The servant returned with a long velvet box, Crispin took it, thanked the girl and opened the box. Inside was a long gold needle, beside it a beautiful sparkling gold thread, the thread of silence. Never before had it been used, for it was said once a person's lips were sewn shut by this enchanted thread, it was unbreakable. The person stayed mute forever, until the power of the God who used it, wished otherwise.
"Hold him down!" Crispin ordered.
The guards tightened their hold on the chains, as they jerked him to his knees. Azrael felt the force of the impact grind his bones, gritting his teeth, he jerked his chin up to watch Crispin approach with the needle. "Well brother." Azrael taunted.
Crispin grabbed Azrael's chin roughly, holding his head in place. Forcing Azrael to hold his gaze as Crispin brought the needle to his lips. The first pierce of the cold point popped through his skin easily, liquid fire scorched his soul with each stitch from the Thread of Silence, it felt as if he was being branded from the inside, hell's fires coated his skin. By the time Crispin had completed his task, Azrael's body was saturated in sweat. He had lost consciousness multiple times, only to be brought back to the excruciating pain of the needle, and the sorrow in his brother's eyes.
"The deed is done." Crispin stated, backing away he looked thoroughly affected having administered the act. Sweat coated his forehead and dripped down his face... or were they tears? Azrael could no longer tell, his vision was tunneled, the strain locking his body up. The feel of Crispin touching his index finger against Azrael's forehead was in the back of his mind, "Go now brother, I banish you to earth." And with that it was over. His brother's touch the last thing he would feel from the realm of the Gods.
Azrael felt the ground beneath his knees shift, the chains that once bound him were no longer there, he was being hurdled through the air. The pendant around his neck lifted, he went to grab it, but his hands failed him, he could not move his limbs fast enough. The only thing he had to remember his mother by was the pendant that he always wore, it was a small spiral, glass blown, with his mother's initials on the back. It was supposedly a gift his father had given to her when they first married, he had it specially made from the glass ball of his scepter. One day while Azrael was wandering around the great halls, he had ventured into his late mother's room, finding her dust covered jewelry box sitting on the mantle above the hearth.
Now the last remaining part of his mother floated in the distance, his focus was becoming blurry, and when he hit the grass of the earth the last picture in his mind was of his mother's disappointed face.