#crowley is disguised as polynices the literature tutor

[evilasiangenius]

“Phoenix, wait! I need to talk to Menippos.”

Upon hearing that strident voice and the familiar pounding of running feet behind him, Aziraphale felt something inside of him clench up; it was a day off and somehow the child had found him, despite the fact that their schedules should have disallowed the possibility.

Aziraphale wondered if there was a human word yet for that awkward uncomfortable feeling that a teacher feels when happening upon a student outside of the regulated context of a lesson, and decided that if there wasn’t, there should be a word for such an emotion.

“I should have left the palace earlier,” Aziraphale muttered to himself. “Why did I decide to reread the Bacchae in entirety before seeing it staged...”

The angel steeled himself and put on a mild, pleasant smile before turning to face the child.

“Alexander! What an...unexpected pleasure. And you’re all dressed up for the festival. What are you doing here?”

“Phoenix is taking me to the theater. Or more like, I’m taking Phoenix to the theater. Well, not all the way to the theater, just to my father and his men for the procession before the theater,” Alexander chirped, tossing back a headful of neatly dressed hair that was already not so neat from a combination of rowdy child and wind and something to do with falling blossoms from an olive tree. “I hope it’s good, even if it’s the Bacchae. I prefer the ones about Achilles.”

“Ah, yes, those are certainly compelling stories. Very tragic and action-packed, with all the murders and corpse dragging...” Aziraphale managed a smile, waving in greeting to the old man that watched over Alexander, the one nicknamed Phoenix after Achilles’ tutor, who was still down at the other end of the colonnade slowly catching up to the young prince. “Erm, did you have a question, young master?”

Alexander looked around, and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to get him in trouble because I like him, but have you seen Polynices? The literature tutor.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale paused. His first thought was one of panic: that Crowley had been reassigned, and it would be years before he would see the demon again. But then again, he knew Asmodeus was still loitering around somewhere; anyone of that stature leaving unexpectedly would have set the court ablaze in gossip. His second thought was still a nervous concern: perhaps that demonic master had sent Crowley off somewhere on a short assignment, but then Aziraphale remembered his recent conversation with the demon at the olive grove and in his heart of hearts he yelled Crowley’s name very loudly and in a very frustrated manner.

Crowley!

x