actually it’s not as uncommon as one might think. fairies are so small that angels tend to underestimate them, and everyone knows the fae throw the best parties.
fairies know better than anyone how to tempt an angel. of course an angel has a lofty cause, of course it does, but does it pursue that cause every moment of every night? of course not. so what’s the harm in shrinking down for a few moments, and simply observing the festivities? sometimes that is all that happens, unless one of the fairies gets it in mind to invite their guest to the dance.
the music is so raucous the whining protest of the halo is drowned out, forgotten. the angel takes the fairy’s hand, gets swept up in the dance, in the beauty of its fae partner. its fae partner offers it fae food and it eats. it drinks.
it doesn’t notice until the dance is winding down that its halo, its purpose, power, connection to the divine, its holy essence given form, has slipped off at some point–weakened by fae liqueur–and vanished. it has a sinking feeling it was stolen, by its fae partner or someone else it knows not. its fae partner leads it off to faer little fairy bed and the marriage is consummated. it’s part of fairy society now. without its halo, it’s trapped in this realm.
it’s not so terrible. it’s always getting invited to parties, where the fairies all touch its beautifully soft feather wings and dance with it, passing it around, each new partner kissing it passionately. when it’s not partying or hungover it wants to be a good wife to the fairy it married. it learns how to cook fairy cuisine. it takes an interest in fairy fashion. really so much more beautiful than those drab robes it came here in. iridescent, delicate as a cobweb, gauzy, glittery, covered in tiny flowers and vines, every piece a celebration of the beauty of nature. its fae wife brings it home a new gown every day and it wears these gowns to its parties. joy fills its tiny body to the brim, a joy it never knew in all of its years of service.
it can hardly remember what it used to be anymore. it can hardly remember what it was trying to do. its head is so small, it can’t comprehend the scale of its holy mission. when it tries to think about it, it’s like every single thought vanishes into a hole and it has a blank expression on its face until its fairy wife waves a tiny hand in front of its face, offers it a drop of cordial. it comes to again, knowing only that it forgot something.
sometimes as it is going about its days, it catches a godly glint in the corner of its eye, and its heart flutters and it whips around. in these moments it has the distinct impression that the neighbors have been passing its halo around behind their backs this whole time, laughing, sometimes tossing it back and forth like a toy when it’s not looking.
but whatever it was is gone. “probably just some fairy glamour? a glittering bug?” its fae wife comforts it with a kiss. it forgets it saw anything at all.