History
As a child, Asariel cherished all things good and bright, devoting her time to sharpening her battle skills to serve her kingdom. She trained with the fiercest of warriors, quickly proving herself to be one of the greatest sword-wielders that Heaven had ever seen.
When she was reaching adulthood, the Holy Wars struck her life with such a blow that she can still feel its tremors today.
She was going out for a brisk morning flight when she first saw Morningstar leading his army of fallen angels. Her first instinct, her only instinct for some time, was to fight back against the evil-doers, to finally prove her worth to her kingdom. When the bell tolled for war, she was among the bravest warriors holding up the front lines.
She was just as good in the thick of battle as she was in the relative calm of the training fields. She fought with a fury that all other dragons lacked. The first time she fought, however, she nearly threw up when a fallen angel's dark, red blood sprayed onto her. She spoke to her friends of this, and they assured her that she would grow numb to all the death.
But she didn't.
In fact, as time went on, it only grew worse. She would memorize the faces of the dragons she slew, and those faces haunted her as she tried to catch a few hours of sleep every night. Their voices lamented after her as she accepted whatever rations were dished out to her. They weighed down her razor-thin, light rapier, making it impossible to fight anymore.
The war was showing no signs of stopping. Every day she spent fighting was agony. Asariel had weighed it out in her mind so many times, she fought over the same arguments again and again, but she finally came to a conclusion. There was one path to end this war. And that was to join Morningstar's side.
So she stopped fighting for Heaven.
Once her treachery was made known, she was cast out of heaven. The angels and archangels of the holy kingdom were, at first, shocked to realize that one of their comrades had revealed "her true self" and joined the evil side. But then, their will hardened and the forces of holiness pushed back against the evil-doers harder than ever before. Within days, the war was over, and Morningstar and his followers were banished to the Fortress of Ends, doomed to a life of mortality and constant danger. In this icy landscape, they took refuge in a clan ruled by a dragon named Nahash.
And there Asariel remains, wondering if she had done something sooner, or done something different, if her life living with the devil could have been avoided. If she could have still been in heaven.
But what once was such a pressing thought is now but a passing feeling, drained of all emotion and care.
So it wasn't in the beginning, but is now, and ever shall be. A hell without end, Amen.
Personality
Most would expect for a fallen angel, so used to living a life of sunshine and flower-scented air, to be bitter and furious for being cast out of heaven. At first, Asariel was both of those things. She hated the cold, hated the way it stole into her bones and gave her lethargy that she had never experienced before. She hated the evil ways of Morningstar and his followers. She hated... everything.
But as time wore on and memories lost their luster, her emotions dulled. She didn't feel anything. And if she did feel something, it was quiet, more of a forgotten memory than an emotion.
She began to speak less and less. Her thoughts became controlled, crystal-clear things. Strangely enough, here in this bitter hell, Asariel's mind was more at peace than it ever had in her whole life.
Where it only used to be black and white, spots of gray began to appear. The colors blurred together, much like the line between good and evil. How would one classify evil, exactly? Or good, for that matter? Do good and evil even exist? After her time spent in the Fortress of Ends, Asariel has come to the conclusion that neither good nor evil exists, just smears of gray that can't be understood.
Another belief of hers that was shattered upon being cast out of Heaven was her idea of destiny. She used to believe in it fervently, taking comfort in the thought that everything is predestined. Now she believes, no, now she knows, that choices rule everyone's lives, and fate is just a curtain to hide behind.
In a way, she finds irony in her past. In her war years, her heavenly comrades had assured her that one day, she would grow numb to the terror of war.
And in a way, she has.
History Snippet
Her sword whistled through the air, trailing blood and destruction. A pearlcatcher screamed as his throat was slit, and he plummeted down, down, down, until he was lost from view. A small lump formed in Asariel's throat as she remembered his battle-scarred snout, his sparkling, electric-blue eyes. But, soon enough, more dragons converged on her.
And she was forced to watch another dragon fall.
And another.
And another.
Her soul cracked a little bit each time she saw one of her enemies fall. Even though they no longer lived as neighbors, each one of them was still close to her heart.
As she battled, she thought about the discussion she had with herself last night. The option to switch was becoming more and more tempting, calling out to her much like Morningstar's silky and persuasive voice.
Another dragon fell beneath her sword. She was young, younger than Asariel, and she stared
with shock at the deep wound slashed across her chest. And then, she too fell and joined the corpses.
In that moment, Asariel snapped.
And she became one of Morningstar's soldiers.

Poem and bio written by AwkwardAngel





“People couldn't become truly holy, he said, unless they also had the opportunity to be definitively wicked.”
― Terry Pratchett, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch