The valley had seen wars, treaties, scandals, and prophecies. But it had never seen anything quite like the war that broke out in the courtyard of Irene's estate one humid afternoon — a war not of blades or feathers, but of words sharpened into nicknames.
Allisiario Dame Daemon leaned against the stone archway, katana at his hip, expression carved into bored disdain. His sister, Ellinaskariya Aangell Irene, perched on the fountain's edge, wings folded neatly, eyes gleaming with mischief. The air between them was heavy, not with tension, but with the promise of absolute ridiculousness and stupidity.
"Storm Cloud," Ellina said suddenly, her voice sweet as honey and sharp as glass. "That's what I'm calling you now. Fits, doesn't it? Always brooding, always sulking, always pretending the world is ending."
Allis groaned. "Storm Cloud? Really? That's the best you've got for me? You sound like a poet who ran out of damn metaphors."
Ellina smirked. "Better than your usual nickname for me. What was it again? Oh, right — Featherbrain. Stupid as hell."
"Because it's true," Allis shot back, rolling his eyes. "You think rules solve everything. You flap around with your council speeches and your angelic superiority, and you forget you're just my twin. Featherbrain suits you."
Ellina gasped theatrically, clutching her chest as if wounded. "How dare you. I am elegance incarnate. I am light sharpened into discipline. And you're… well, you're just Storm Cloud."
"Fine," Allis said, smirking now. "If I'm Storm Cloud, you're Sunburn. Too bright, too loud, and everyone regrets looking at you for too damn long."
Ellina narrowed her eyes. "Sunburn? That's pathetic. You're Katana Boy. Always swinging that blade around like it's going to solve your identity crisis."
"Better than being Miss Perfect Feathers," Allis retorted. "Do you polish them every night, or do they just sparkle out of sheer arrogance?"
Ellina flicked a feather at him, precise as ever. "You're Broodzilla. Half demon, half sulk, all disaster."
Allis barked a laugh. "And you're Rulebook with Wings. You'd probably write a treaty about how to breathe if you could."
The courtyard echoed with their voices, each nickname sharper, sillier, more absurd than the last. Servants paused in their chores to listen. Children peeked from behind pillars, giggling. Even the valley itself seemed to lean closer, curious about this battle of words.
Ellina stood, wings flaring dramatically. "Listen here, Moody McKatana, you think you're intimidating, but you're just a walking thundercloud with bad posture."
Allis crossed his arms, smirk widening. "Says Princess Halo, who thinks her golden hair makes her royalty. Spoiler alert: it doesn't."
"Grumpy Plum Eyes," she snapped, pointing at his bruised-purple gaze. "You look like you lost a fight with a fruit basket."
"Goldilocks of Doom," he countered, gesturing at her shimmering hair. "You blind people just by existing."
Ellina laughed, the sound sharp and musical. "You're Drama King Daemon Junior. Always sighing, always glaring, always pretending you're the tragic hero of the story."
Allis tilted his head. "And you're Lecture Fairy. Every time you open your mouth, it's a damn sermon."
The servants snickered. One of the younger angels whispered, "Are they… fighting with nicknames?"
Another demon muttered, "This is better than any council debate."
Soon, the courtyard was alive with commentary. Children shouted suggestions, angels whispered insults, demons chuckled.
"Call him Sword Nerd!" one child yelled.
"Call her Wingzilla!" another added.
"Sulky Shadow!" a demon laughed.
"Shiny Feather Queen!" an angel chimed in.
Ellina grinned, delighted by the chaos. "See, even they agree. You're Sword Nerd."
Allis groaned. "And you're Wingzilla. Fits perfectly. Terrifying, loud, and impossible to ignore."
The crowd roared with laughter. The twins squared off again, not with weapons, but with words sharpened into playful daggers.
Ellina leaned close, eyes gleaming. "You're Punk Storm. Always muttering, always sulking, always pretending you're cooler than you are."
Allis smirked, leaning closer too. "And you're Nickname Overlord. You think you win because you talk louder, but you're just desperate."
They stared at each other, tension rising like thunderclouds. Then, simultaneously, they burst into laughter.
The courtyard exhaled. The servants smiled. The children cheered. The valley itself seemed to sigh with relief.
Later, as they sat on the fountain's edge, catching their breath, Ellina nudged her brother. "Storm Cloud suits you, you know."
Allis rolled his eyes but smiled faintly. "Featherbrain suits you too."
They sat in silence, the battle of nicknames lingering in the air like smoke after fireworks. For once, the world did not judge them. For once, they were not scandal or prophecy. For once, they were just siblings, ridiculous and real.
And in that moment, Allis realized something: sometimes, the only way to survive the weight of bloodlines and expectations was to laugh. To fight with nicknames instead of blades. To be Storm Cloud and Featherbrain, Katana Boy and Wingzilla, Punk Storm and Nickname Overlord.
Because laughter was a weapon too. And sometimes, it was the sharpest one they had.
That night, on the roof of their home, the stars burned like silent witnesses. Allis leaned back, arms crossed. "So, what's my final nickname, Ellina? Storm Cloud? Katana Boy? Broodzilla? Sulky Shadow? Moody McKatana? Grumpy Plum Eyes?"
Ellina smirked, wings folding neatly. "None of those."
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Running out of insults?"
She hesitated, then softened. Her voice lost its edge, became something gentler, something rare. "No. Just…"
"Brother."