His Mortal Flaw is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are made fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No parts of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or means without prior permission of the author.

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME.

Any pictures or images used here are not mine. Credits to the rightful owner of the references that I used.

...PRELUDE...

  "My name's Riyon by the way..." he reared like it was not the first time he ever introduced himself to her.

        Do you ever wonder what angels' configurations are? They do not appear as heavenly as human thought they are, they only manifest their form to appease humans orthodox. Thus, they cover their eyes with a white taffeta — a symbol of their chastise. To be reminded over and over again of their sacred duties.

       Nonetheless, many angels still had sinned. The gravest of them, who had everything — Lucifer, was condemned in eternal damnation, he was now the ruler of Hell, but the story does not revolve around him. It is about Riyon — the angel who had 'immense beauty of heaven,' who was borne by the Tree of Life solely to guide the mortal whom was first named as Isabella.

       Her beauty attracted many men, so does the danger that constantly lurked around her. She is gentle, kind, and compassionate which led Riyon's belief in turmoil of her undeserving fate. This is where our story started...

       It was that time when people believed in witches.

       Riyon let out an exasperated sigh, as he stood uprightly on the peak of the cathedral. The sky was omitting an ominous insignia as it thunders and lightning happens upon the murky clouds. It was as if it knows what he meant to act and as its consequence the sky cried for his stead and demise, but he likewise knew it was a threat.

       During the sudden bolts of lightning that speared the sky, it was as fast as her appearing at Riyon's side; the gush of wind was the only proof of her arriving. "Do not make any hasty decisions Riyon."

       "I am sent by His splendor." She sang.

       The angels' porcelain skin glimmered under the flashes of lightning. Pia oversees the lingering darkness of Riyon's halo opposite to hers — holy and untainted. Slowly eating away his purity, the holy gleam now stained with obscurity that befalls his awaiting judgment. He could still be saved, if he lets her...

       "Greetings Pia..." Riyon said, not once did he flee his eyes to Isabella — that in this time is named Vienna. She was tied on a wooden stake, surrounded by twigs of wood and the angry mob of people wanting her to burn.

       Vienna's face was drenched with her tears and sweat. He cannot see her because of the taffeta, be that as it may he intensely feel her emotions — her fear, her acceptance, her grief, betrayal and somehow he could see her face. Riyon could feel all of them as her guardian, and to each of her lifetimes, it remained the same.

       "Since when did you stop changing Riyon?" she queries, a fit of nervousness travelled down to her system. She does not want to see another angel fallen or worse thrown onto the pit of Hell.

       "When He denied His child pleas..." He brusquely uttered. Pia stretched her arms to hold Riyon's left shoulder, declaring, "Go home child. Repent for your sins and you shall be forgiven. This is what He wanted me to say."

       However he wanted to believe in His plan, Riyon's feelings started to manifest displeasure, disgust and anger — a sin. Pia wanted to change Riyon's beliefs, no matter how corrupted he was; she wanted to save a fellow servant. "The world was made as it is. No one, not even us — Angels have the right to tamper its balance."

       "Do you also believe that, Pia?" The angel went silent of his remark; Pia will have no other choice if he will continue to deny his duties. She will have to resort to rebuke him over calling upon judgment. She still have sympathy for him at any rate he becomes more stern of his choice; Pia would have to sound the trumpet. And so she fears, "She deserves so much more." He whispered in grief.

       "Whatever that you may think is worthy for her, it is not ours to meddle." She firmly stated, needing him to understand one last time. "We are only His servant. It is our duty to love His creation; however, it is a sin to love only one."

       Riyon turned his head to her way, a conniving smile plastered on his lips, showing the depth on his right cheeks. "Well, Pia..."

       "Since when does being faithful to your partner ever a sin?" he grinned, his hands pulled the taffeta shortly before Pia could even stop him. He expanded his wings whilst its white feathers turning into a black one as he dives to save Vienna from being burnt alive.

       Fast forward and here we are at the present, Asper let out an audible snarl. She kicked the flat tire in annoyance, whilst the rain slowly creeping in under the layers of her clothes. It showed her perfect curves and her nude brassiere under her white tee shirt. "Damn nail!"

       She doesn't know it yet, but he stared at her in longing; his eyebrows a little crumpled just by seeing her state. He wondered what he missed. However, he knew the answer very well for he's devoted himself only for her; and her alone.

       The pavement near where she parked drifted rain into the drain. The small tree swayed under the harsh wind of the rain, and past her eyes are couples who snuggled each other keeping themselves dry under in one umbrella, giggling to whatever they said. She frowned.

       Asper opened her trunk to find the spare wheel she always kept there, and the reflective triangles for precaution she placed them on the road, in result she saw a man staring at her. Her heart flared and her cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

      He wore a black suit, and a white shirt under. His moreno skin complemented his amber eyes so good, his hair neatly placed to its perfection. Riyon always had that firm jaw line; he was like an Egyptian prince.

       Riyon eyes dilated in awe, mesmerized and defeatist. A superfluous feeling resonated thru him again, his heart fluttered blissfully like how he felt when flowers blossom in spring. Beautiful... he thought.

       "Do you need a hand?" He asked when he approaches Asper; holding the umbrella firmly in his left hand, as he shades her body from soaking even more.

       Instinctively, Asper uttered almost impossibly to be heard, "Why?"

       She's mindless — he forced her hand to take the umbrella, his hands warm as ever. She quivered under her coat while her caramel eyes observe him thoroughly. Although her question's imply is different, he answered the way he understood it. "Silly..." He chuckled mellifluously divine. "Help you change tires of course..."

       "U-Uh yeaah!" She squeaked, as she gestures nervously in front of him. "T-Thanks..."

       'I doubt he could though...' Asper believed. Once again, Riyon showed her his perfect white teeth with a smile flaunting the depth on his right cheek, his amber eyes like spectacles of rainbow it smeared those orbs so divine it hunted her so bad.

       So she watches him earnestly...

       "My name's Riyon by the way..." he reared like it was not the first time he ever introduced himself to her. In many lifetimes, it felt different yet right. "Name's Asper" she answers.

       Asper gawked at his back, amidst of everything that happened, here he is, still divine eviternity. "So, what do you do by the way?" He asked. She wondered how long it has been, how long she waited, only to leave her behind with nothing but memories, hope and loneliness. In the end, she was left alone after the promises of forever. She was abandoned.

       "I'm a police officer." She simply answered. Riyon who purposefully slogged slowly to spend some time with her, halted in upheaval. "What?! Why would you even choose to be a police officer?!" Asper wanted to say that she had no other choice, but she reserved it for some other time.

       Asper felt like her world is spinning around again; it felt like her stomach's contents will soon come out to her mouth. "It's dangerous!"

       "A-Asper, what's wrong darling?" Riyon probed worriedly, Asper eyes were turning red from crying inaudibly. He would have never noticed it, if he did not try to peep a sight of her again. He kept on desiring to see her beautiful face; he just could not stop himself.

       Riyon's smile was meant to make Asper feel at ease again, nonetheless it made her frightened. "Nothing's wrong..." Asper resigned, huffing air to her chest trying to calm herself down as she shoves him away to finish what he started. The umbrella forgotten, as she wipes away her tears.

       She turned the lug wrench with her hands shaking to tighten the screws of the wheel before she aggressively pumps the car jack to go down. "I-I just had a bad day!"

       "I remembered I still have loads to do at home." She excused while hoarding the things that she used onto her trunk, not minding the weight. The confused Riyon stared at her at the same time he picks up the umbrella he gave; she's already shutting the car's door at the driving seat.

       "W-Wait! Asper!" His knuckles thumped the car's window, albeit Asper's qualms she still let her window down.

       "Did I say something wrong?" Riyon confused face filled Asper's blurry vision. "N-No, no..." She said, turning her keys. "It was nice talking to you, but I really have to go..." Asper bites her lower lip anxiously whilst she endeavored to relax herself on the seat.

       He nodded understandingly. "O-Okay... will I still see you around?"

       Asper stared at his eyes, "U-Uh yeah... probably..." with that once more, a giddy happiness accentuated Riyon's face. He backed away from her car, letting her go for this short moment.

       Asper glanced at him for a brief second, taking it all in. He's back. He's finally back, she should be happy. Thenceforward, she took her pills before making her car's engine roar and she left Riyon standing there reflected on her rearview mirror.

       In the back of her mind, she hoped he does not have any idea that she remembers everything from her past life. She kept it all of those centuries, wanting to divulge herself from the sleek feeling of safety and bliss she felt every time they'd meet again. He would always find her. And she would always wait for him, but this time all she felt is dejection.

       Like a harbinger of chaos, he once again disrupted her mundane world. Henceforth, she reveries when it all started, past to the loop of misery and heartaches they have endured to delude themselves that their love may work. Ad naseum... how suffocating.

***

Ad naseum – used to refer a fact that something has been done or repeated so often that it has become annoying or tiresome.

Taffeta - a fine lustrous silk or similar synthetic fabric with a crisp texture.

Mellifluous – (of a sound) sweetly or smoothly flowing; sweet – sounding. 

‘…A woman.’

She

lurched, scrubs and batted the clothes with her beaten hands. Each stroke sends

an inexplicably amount of jolting pain as the lye soaked garbs mop up each cuts

on her hands from laundry and cleaning the stables of the Peglers.

The

skin above her knuckles was thin and discolored — pink tinges that shaded her

once soft delicate hands for sketching were all red and purple from abuse.

Well,

if there were any other ways to actually earn coinage without getting her hands

injured and dirty then she would have — however she would have to result in

making her whole body dirty.

A mere

depiction of how poverty resulted in moral disintegration solely to have a food

digested in a growling stomach.

And

she doesn’t want to be a harlot. She does not want her only lucid perceptive

view of life tampered because of the coinage they lacked so much.

“Good

day, Vienna…” greeted Pomela as she stride forwards to do the laundry beside

hers at the river. “Good day to you too, Pomela.”

Pomela

is chatty. Quite a blabbermouth, so Vienna was not surprised when she talked

incoherently. She talked about men, her brothers’ talents and how it’s so hard

to maintain his education but Pomela said that he was the only hope to make

their life actually better. However, the little git was unappreciative, kept

demanding more to what she and her mother could make. “—And did you know?

Starting tomorrow taxes are ‘bout to be paid double?”

In a

violent turn, Vienna faced Pomela in a distinguished hysteria and upheaval.

“What?”

“I – I

could barely pay the monthly tax of two pounds! How – how could I even afford

to earn f-four!” She withdrew, almost breathless. The Peglers gives her four

pences to every pile of clothes she washes, and five shillings for cleaning

their stables.

Of course,

her labor is not on constant sought as they have owned slaves. It’s either

she’d begged another housekeeper of a distinguished families to spare her a chore

to earn minimum of pences.

Vienna

counted how many pence it took to make one shillings. And she is enraged!

Twelve pence equals to one shilling and twenty shilling equals to one pound!

How on earth was she supposed to make four?!

“I

know!” As enraged as she is, Pomela’s face painted in a bright orange. “I might

do it, you know…” Her friend chortled humorlessly. Feigning mental collapse

edged the two.

Vienna’s

heart beats’ pulsated quickly to what she heard. “Y-you can’t mean —” A gasped

escaped her lips, her hands that continued batting the garbs with washing bat

lied loosely to her sides.

Pomela

looked at her with a shattered expression, a choke slipping off of her friend’s

throat as she continues, “I can’t think of another way…” The woman whispers.

“I’ve

been talking to Lilibeth— you know the famous h-harlot.” Pomela ran her shaking

hands to her face. “I-I…” She laughed. “I can’t believe that I’d be soon one of

the girls that we’d disparage to their impudent choices…”

“Let’s

think of another way! You can’t do that to yourself, Pomela.” Vienna panicky

blabbered. She thought of so many dreadful and disgusting things on her mind as

she imagined Pomela deciding to enter that kind of life.

Freezing

waves slaughtered her spine as Vienna remembers how many harlots were—were

killed and battered under their customers. Some laid stone cold soaking with

their own blood upon the ground. Some of them full of bruises and skin

discoloration.

They

can’t even do anything to bring justice to their maltreatment, even though they

chose that lifestyle in poverty that does not indicate that they are not viewed

decent as a human. That they are deprived of an ounce of respect and see them

as revoked of their rights to complain of their circumstances.

Men.

They are just awful and rubbish.

Vienna

plummeted as Pomela slowly shook her head. “I can’t think of anymore ways to

lessen this burden, Vienna. I have three younger brothers. My mother and I

worked hard to make our living less brutal since my father died.”

“And

of course…” Pomela resigns, “My mother’s addictions worsen.”

“BUT.

You can still — you can still make your life better! Just leave your drunkard

father.” Pomela cheered her up, however, Vienna scoffed in a tentative belief.

“The son of the Lord of Peglers—Master Edmond is it? He likes you doesn’t he?”

She knew Pomela is just trying to make it seem that she will be alright by

pressing her that she will have more luck in life.

“If

you keep him interested enough, he might choose you as his betrothed.”

Somehow,

the idea of Vienna living a decent life while her only friend suffers did not

make her at ease all. Shaking her head in disapproval, Vienna says, “That’s

impossible, you know how nobles deemed us. And even if he likes me, I am sure

that I am only fated to suffer from his family.”

Pomela

nodded with a tinge of disappointment lingering beneath her stupor, Vienna

ignorant to her friends’ reaction. “You’re right…” Pomela sighs, nibbling her

lower lips while for the first time they quietly finished doing laundry.

Dreading

days passed and Vienna’s body grew thinner than it already is. The hours of

labor and lacked of rest made her cheekbones depleted; the hollow between her

bones were much more prominent and her garbs loose-fitting, only the corset

made it stay in place.

She

reduced her already charred meal pattern into one. Barely have enough pences to

make two a day. Her father making the situation worse due to his habits.

She’d

have to hide her coinage under the creak of their floor. Vienna was hoping her

father won’t ever find out about it or either they get thrown out of the city

or die in starvation.

Sometimes

when time allows her to, she’d pick up herbs from the forest. When she’s lucky

she’d find some edible mushrooms under trees or eucalyptus or mint for her

bruises.

There

are so many things she wished that were changed, nonetheless of what is it

she’d knew it’s far unattainable than exhausting herself to pay that four

pounds.

“Hello,

Vienna,” a raspy voice hailed. Vienna turned around, only to be flushed with

embarrassment as Master Edmond’s sleepy eyes meandered over her.

The

latter wearing an expensive piece of clothes, his shiny black boots seems like a

sin to step over the dirty and putrid floor of the stable.

She

stood to properly greet him. Embarrassing. Embarrassing!

“Good

day, Master Edmond.” She clears her throat. She smelled okay? So badly.

Mix of

dainty mint, horse feces, sweat, dust, reek off of her. In a conscious worry of

disgust that may flash the nobles face troubled her mind. But, the man appeared

uncaring of her stench.

He did

not came for her — she chanted inside of her. He’s here for the horses… he did not came for you, Vienna.

“Checking

the horses?” Vienna lightly said, “Let me finish cleaning the stables first, or

your clothes might get dirt.”

“Don’t

worry about it.” He coolly said, dismissing the unease that she felt. Specs of

light glistened his emerald eyes, and a ghost of smile on his lips.

“I

came here for you.” Her heart throbbed in nervous? Pain? Trance? She did not

know what exactly made her heart flutter.

Vienna

gulped down the liquid that jammed her throat when she saw his playful smile. “I

heard from the housekeeper you’re here.”

“How

are you, Vienna?” Edmond build leaned one of the pillars of the stable, a quiet

screech was heard. He tilted his head to see her face fully. Worry flaunted in

his very attractive face, “The Queen made the tax double in lieu of winning the

war. It must been hard for you…”

“Well

life is always hard; of course it’s up to us trying to make it a bit better.”

Vienna said, then her eyes drifted away from Edmond trailing the silhouette of the

young maiden of the Peglers — Maurice.

“Edmond…”

Maurice calls, the girl sending her an indifferent look. “The governor wishes

to see us. What on earth are you even doing here?” It took Maurice plenty of

minutes to decide whether she’d let her expensive dress drape over the dirty

floor of the stable.

Of course,

the girl did. Her hatred for Vienna is far stronger than letting her dress be muddy.

She would not let Vienna seduce her brother. What an irk — Maurice thought.

“Is it

forbidden that I visit the horses?” Said Edmond. “No” Maurice answered although

skeptical of the reason why he’s here. He’s not really fond of horses, he had a

terrible fall from it when they were a kid, she could only think of one thing

why.

And

that is— this whore… She shivered. “But, do you smell that? Urgh, I don’t think

that I can last here any second!” Maurice faked gagging, then turned to see

Vienna, “Was it you?”

Vienna

shrunk down as Vienna eyed her with disgust, scoffing as her nose crinkle, “What

a horrible smell!”

Vienna

gulped down every embarrassment she felt, and when Edmond’s jaw tensed she

wished her body just decayed that instant. “Oh please, Maurice…” His eyes

rolled, an irritated snarl showing, “Of course, it’d smell, where do you think

the horses shit? Do you want me to build them a bathroom?”

Maurice

was silenced for a moment, her face and neck reddish as she glared daggers at

Vienna.

“Let’s

go Edmond before we catch whatever disease is in here!” She clung onto her

brother’s arm pulling it. Edmond sighed as he looked at Vienna once again.

“Do

tell me if you need any help…” He reckons before he left her with Maurice standing

and glaring at her.

“Don’t

think that you can marry to a noble just because one talks to you, Vienna. Stay

away from him, you stinking twat.” Maurica spat every word with a venomous indentation.

“If I see

you close with again, I might just do something…”

“I’m

certain you would not like it.” As Maurice leave, Vienna is left with an

agonizing realization. Although, she thought of it numerous of times, convinced

herself over and over again that it became a chant inside of her head every

time that Edmond and her met.

In

discreet— by the forest, she can’t be

with him. He is too high, too far from her league, Edmond’s a noble and she

is just— nothing. She is nothing but a mere daughter of a drunkard fisher who

relentlessly dreamed to be a painter.

Nonetheless

on how beautiful her works are, they were always overlooked, undervalued, ridiculed

because she is…

…A woman.

Somehow,

her little world that her and Edmond built, were just a paradox. The

consequences of being with him were just utterly dire, and she feared when

Edmond choses her he’d fallen.