Mortem Appellationis | Demon!England

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Inches from your face, his breath washes over your cheek and down your neck, warm and reassuring. It smells of Earl Grey tea, his favourite, and reminds you of the many days spent with this man. Roaming London, walking together hand in hand, popping into a café for a quick bite to eat, or simply at your home, lounging together on the couch as he held you close—like today. You’re safe, at home in his lap. There’s nothing to worry about, nothing at all. You’re supposed to be here, resting against his firm chest and held tight around the waist by his arms.

You’re content, you’re happy, you’re completely at ease…

But this is a fragile lie.

Today is your last day, the day you die because you so foolishly made a deal with a demon—but you aren’t going to die because this demon is malicious. You’re going to die today because this demon, the Demon of Pride, loves you, and demands your love in return as your price to pay for accepting his deal so long ago. Today is the day he will mark you as his—but as everyone knows, a demon’s intimate touch is poison to a mere mortal.

Your arms are pinned to your sides in his grasp, but you don’t mind. Arthur is nothing but gentle as he handles your delicate human body. His fingers dance over your exposed skin as his mouth finds your neck, nipping and licking and working on the skin, a smirk finding its way to his lips as small mewls and sounds of pleasure escape your throat. He shifts beneath you to roll, so you find yourself pinned down beneath him on your bed, wrists held above your head with one of his hands as the other trails down your chest and slides across your stomach, causing more wonderful shivers to dance down your spine. His lips, when they meet yours, taste of the same Earl Grey tea, but mixed with the unmistakable metallic and iron taste of blood as well.

You don’t recoil.

You’re used to this—he always tastes of blood.

It is in his nature to drink the mortal lifeblood, for he is a demon. But Arthur is a creature whose sole purpose is to make others’ lives a living hell, seeking out the selfish and greedy and raising them up—only to bring them crashing back down again when he demands his price. He is a being of malicious intent; in the past he promised humans their greatest desires fulfilled, but after the deal was made and their wish granted, he took his reward from them mercilessly. Whether it be their body, their soul, or their blood, he seized it at once and vanished in a flash, leaving the human behind with little regret as they collapsed to the ground, either writhing in unbelievable agony or completely silent, a husk of their former self.

Every deal ended in a death.

Even though he loves you, yours is no exception.  

On November 17th, 1892, Arthur began his next hunt. But instead of finding someone whose deadly flaw was greed or pride or gluttony, he found you: a young girl living alone in a great big house meant for a happy couple and their children, but left empty once its owners had abandoned this world for the next. Your parents were dead when Arthur discovered you. They had long since passed from illness. You had no siblings, no relatives, no friends, no one to comfort you. You were simply a young child left out in the streets to fend for herself, sometimes wandering back into your former condemned house during the cold winter nights for shelter.

The day you found him, he was in your backyard, amongst your parent’s dying garden. You tried all you could to water the poor flowers to keep them alive, but your child self did not understand the necessities of the plants, and they ended up wilting as the cold of winter crept closer, coating the vegetation in frost. But you found him that day, leaning against the oak tree that grew beside the roses, which were always your favourite. His smile was so tempting and earnest, and his emerald eyes so beautiful, and his voice so alluring…you couldn’t help but trust him. So you approached him with wonder in your eyes.






“What are you doing here?” you asked the strange man, looking him up and down with round, innocent eyes.

“Hm?” His beautiful emerald gaze landed on your small form, and the blond man smiled. “I am here because I sensed a lost soul, young one,” he answered you kindly, in a very trustworthy tone. He had a compelling aura about him, and you wanted to believe him when he continued, “I am a being who seeks out the depressed, little one. And I have a feeling you are quite the sad child. I am here to make sure you are safe throughout your life and have everything you could ever want. Fate regrets what it has done to you, love, so He sent me to cheer you up.”

“He has?” you said excitedly, eyes sparkling.

“Indeed,” he replied, smile widening. “Your parents have left you for the next world, so will I guide you through life so you can see them again.”

You stared at him in wonder. “Are you an angel?”

He chuckled. “Not quite.”

“What are you, then?”

“Just a friend of Fate, young one.”

You looked him over once more, and something caught your attention. “What happened to your wings? Why are they so…red?”

“I prefer the colour of crimson to the colour of white. After all, red is the colour of mortals, and I simply adore the human race. They are what keeps me feeling…alive, one might say.”

You were confused by his answer, but you tried not to show it. “Oh. What’s your name?”

“Arthur, child. My name is Arthur. And what is yours?”

You tell him yours eagerly. “Are you going to help me find somewhere to live?”

“I can do whatever ask of me. The only thing I require is for you to shake my hand, and give me something in return when this is all over.” He extended his hand to you, flexing his fingers invitingly. “So, what do you say, love? Will you allow me to heal what Fate has done to you?”

“Yes!” you said happily, and bounded over to him to grasp his warm hand. His hands were larger than your own, and engulfed your smaller one with ease.

Arthur shook your hand once, then released you, a smile curling up his lips, though this one didn’t seem as friendly as the first. “Brilliant. Now…what shall we do first?”






You were just a naïve child back then, it wasn’t like you could’ve done anything to stop him. You were gullible and innocent and extremely too-trusting. But you were also lonely and depressed and at odds over what to do, and with Arthur around, your life grew better. He used his supernatural abilities to restore your condemned home into something more liveable, as well as conjure up hundreds of pound notes and coins for you to use in everyday life. He acted as your guardian at first, claiming to be a friend of your parents’ in the eyes of the community and raising you somewhat patiently. He taught you how to survive in the city of London. And his very presence, to your young eyes, was magical and wonderful.

And even as you grew older, you still thought him to be your saviour. You were intelligent enough to recognise him as a demon once you surpassed the age of childlike innocence, and yet you still wished for him to stay with you. You had no choice in the matter, due to your deal with him, but you didn’t care. You wanted him to stay with you and watch over you and care for you—and eventually, you wanted him to love you, despite its consequences.






Arthur originally intended to consume your soul. Something about your spirit was extremely mouthwatering to him, so bright and pure he couldn’t help but step into your life and make a deal. Usually, he never went after the young, for the guardian angels of human children were especially vicious—like that one bloke, Alfred, who smacked Arthur around with his unnatural strength (even for an angel) when Arthur attempted to make a deal with a young boy named Peter.

But for some reason, you didn’t have an angel. Perhaps it was because you were so broken, you had given up on believing and your angel faded away? Or maybe you never had enough faith to begin with? Whatever the case, you never had an angel—which made it all too easy for Arthur to lure you into his trap. But then…he made a deal with you and agreed to help you restore your life into something much better than how it was then, and he ended up acting as your guardian and protector.

At first, he was full of utter disgust at the thought of actually raising you. He never initially wanted to commit to something so extensive—and to live with and protect a human child filled him with disdain and contempt. He would certainly be made fun of by his fellow demons if they ever found out—especially the idiot Demon of Lust, Francis. Arthur would never hear the end of it from him. And yet, as he watched over you and you grew under his care, he was surprised at how easy it was to tolerate your presence. Unbelievably, you weren’t like the other humans he had encountered over the years. You were quite the opposite, in fact.

You were kind and gracious, unlike the past mortals he had made deals with. You were not selfish or envious of others, nor were you gluttonous and lustful. You had enough pride to make you confident but not enough to dub you as arrogant or egotistical. You did not sloth about. You hardly ever demonstrated any of the Seven Sins, which astounded Arthur. He expected you to grow up and at least be hateful of the people who had walked past you on the streets, but you never sought revenge. On the contrary, you were pleasant toward everyone, even those who bullied you when you began school.

And though Arthur found himself boiling with rage whenever he saw you pushed about by your classmates, you would always plead with him to leave the subject alone and ignore the troublemakers.

You confused him beyond measure—you were kind, the exact opposite of those he hunted. And yet something about you drew him to you. Was it because you were so pure, it made your soul that much more appealing? Or was it due to something else, something he refused to acknowledge?

When you were younger, around the house, Arthur would keep his wings open. He’d allow you to stroke them—lifting you into his arms and watching through puzzled green eyes as your fascination with his wings showed clearly on your pretty young face. You’d run your little fingers through the soft crimson feathers and giggle as they tickled your fingertips, and at your laugh, Arthur would find some strange unidentifiable emotion rise up within him. He’d study you with confusion, wondering just what it was about you that left him feeling so strange.






“Arthur! Arthur! Please let me see your wings again!” you begged him, struggling to keep up with him as he paced ahead of you down the hall.

“Again?” he asked, coming to a stop in the living room and turning to face you with an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, again! People like me don’t have wings, so I want to touch yours as much as I can!” You reached out and tugged on his arm. “Please, Artie?”

He stiffened at your touch, that strange surge of emotion coursing through him once again. He shook his head and pushed the feelings aside before he answered with a sigh, “I suppose you can. But don’t go ripping out the feathers again!”

You squealed in joy and practically launched yourself into his extended arms. He lifted you up and and held you against his chest as you reached out to brush your fingers gently through the crimson feathers of his large wings. “They tickle, Artie!” you giggled, but continued to run your hands over the wings. Arthur watched you closely as your eyes shone with excitement and fascination—why were you enjoying this so much? Why did you like the feel of his feathers? His face showed his confusion, but you were too preoccupied with his wings to notice. “They’re soft, too!” You let out another tiny laugh and removed your hands from his wings, pulling back to look him in the eyes.

Arthur was quick to wipe the bemusement from his face. “Well of course they’re soft,” he said matter-of-factly. “They’re covered entirely in feathers. Why wouldn’t they feel soft?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. Why are your wings red instead of white like the other angels’ are?”

Arthur sighed again. “I told you, love, I prefer the colour of mortals. And I am no angel—”

“You are to me!” you said happily, and suddenly leaned in to give him a tight hug.

Arthur froze at your words, but you were leaping down from his arms and dashing away before he could say anything in reply. His emerald eyes moved slowly to watch your form retreat into the kitchen, and he couldn’t help but let the smallest of genuine smiles cross his face. “No one has called me an angel before,” he muttered aloud. “And I can’t honestly say I hate the sound of it.”






Arthur had been so worried, back then. You did things to his stone-cold heart, making it feel warm—which was a foreign sensation and one he could have never predicted he’d ever feel in his entire immortal life. Why would he? Why would he ever feel emotion such as that? A sense of affection and possessiveness for a human child? A need to protect a mortal like you? A strong urge to drink the blood and devour the body of any person who ever harmed you in any way? Why did he feel those things about you?!

If he wanted someone to love, he could’ve easily popped down to Hell and picked a bride from the thousands of demons down there—no one would refuse the Demon of Pride, Lucifer’s own son. And yet he had to go and accumulate these emotions for a mere human? He’d be struck down instantly if his father ever learned of this, not to mention hunted by the angels if their Lord was ever informed. He’d be an outcast from both Heaven and Hell, and then what would he do? Roam Earth forever and live amongst the mortals for all of eternity?!

Arthur had despised the way you made him feel, and yet he couldn’t get enough of it. The affection you showed to him and the sense of warmth you gave to his still heart was so addicting, he could never get enough of it! And those emotions only grew as you grew older as well—from a young child to a teenager, and eventually into a young woman. You grew in maturity and grace and beauty, making you even more appealing in Arthur’s eyes. The sense of affection and protectiveness grew into something akin to what he remembered mortals called love, and he dreaded the realization.

Everyone knew a demon’s touch was poison, after all.

But what could he do? His father was the Devil, he was the manifestation of the Sin called Pride, and he wouldn’t rest until you were his. For if you weren’t, that would damage his pride—and he couldn’t have that.






Today was the day you allowed Arthur to claim his reward. You knew what he wanted, and you told him he could have it. You loved him, after all.

But as you lay beneath Arthur on the sheets, you can’t help but allow a tear trace its way down your cheek.

Arthur is quick to notice and wipe it away. “What is it?” he whispers to you.

“I’m going to die today,” you respond softly, closing your eyes.

He is silent for a moment, then murmurs, “…I know.”

You lay there for a moment, wondering if your decision to allow him to have his way with you is wise. After a minute, you decide even if it isn’t, you have no ways of stopping him. Arthur is used to getting what he wants, and he wants you. Even if you were to beg him to, he wouldn’t stop. Because he is a demon, and demons do not truly experience love, you think to yourself. Then you open your eyes and ask quietly, “Will you miss me?”

He lowers his head and rests his forehead against your own. “Of course.”

You swallow with difficulty. “Will you visit me?”

Arthur winces. “…No.”

You’re hurt by his answer. “Why?”

“Since when is a demon welcome in Heaven, love?”

You shut your eyes again. “I won’t be going there. I fell in love with a demon.”

Arthur is silent once more. “I…doubt that they will turn you away. It is my fault you are here with me  in the first place.” He pulls away to look you in the eye. “I am sorry, my love,” he says in a whisper. “But I cannot stop even if I wanted to. I—”

You place a finger to his lips. “Arthur, I fell in love with you. I want you to continue, even if I end up dying in the process. I…have lived a happy life with you, and I am ready for its closure.”

Arthur gazes at you for a moment, then he nods. “Of course.”

Then he lowers his head and buries it into the crook of your neck, nipping and biting and licking at the skin, causing you to arch against him in both pain and pleasure—for his fangs burn like fire against your flesh. His touch is poison like the legends say, but you don’t care. You simply love him too much to. This demon who raised you after your parents died, this demon who cared for you until you grew into an adult, this demon who, to some extent, loves you back as best as he can.

Arthur loses himself in you, causing your mind to nearly go blank out of enjoyment—though the pain is never far behind. And even though you know he can’t get enough of the taste of your skin, you can feel him flinch every time a pained sound emerges from your throat. But you reach up and bury your fingers into his unruly blond hair and attempt to soothe him through your actions.

“I love you,” you murmur into his ear as he leans down to kiss you.

“And I love you,” he whispers.