The only way for a fallen angel to redeem themself is for a being who truely loves then, unconditionally, to call them by their name. To call them Angel.
"I didn't mean to. Please, I-" The angel girl begged, her hands reaching out, imploring the court to give her mercy.
"The verdict has been given. You, Aimee-Lee, of the House of Raphael, must fall." The judge said, cooler than ice, inspecting her over his half-moon glasses.
"No. Anything but that. Please, I'm begging you!" She cried out, falling to her knees. The judge's eyes softened, but nothing changed. She had entered the House of Lucifer, and had accepted a gift from the hands of Raziel, Lucifer's son. He sat there, watching the girl. He hadn't meant this to happen. He hadn't known. A tear fell from his cheek, hissing as the hot liquid hit his cool skin. He flinched, but did not move.
"Your wings will be taken. You shall be placed into the body of a newborn, and you shall live your life as a human, till the day someone recognizes you. Till the day they call you Angel." Judge Moon reached his hand over the podium, before splaying his fingers. The girl began to scream in pain, as a blindingly blue flame consumed her. Raziel forced himself to watch. He watched as her perfect wings burned. He watched the tears roll down her cheeks. Then, as her body fell, crumbling to dust, he was allowed to approuch.
He gathered the ashes, as he did for every angel who died. He placed her ashes into a pouch, along with her tears. Her angel tears, that froze upon her cheeks, even when she burnt, becoming glass as they fell.
He felt his own fall. He felt the swooping in his stomach, the drooping of his wings, his tail becoming limp. He would watch over her as she grew. He would look after her from afar. And he would try to mend the damage he had done.