Archive of Our Own

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Michael walked the plains of Hell.

With each step he took, his boots took on more caked on red dirt. Whether it was the natural red of the rocky sands of Pride or the red blood of Sinners, he didn't stop to interrogate.

He was tired. A weariness settled over his shoulders like he had never felt in all of his millennia of existence. He held his wings high, as high as he could despite the soreness in his bones, lest they drop and drag into the red dirt.

The fighting had taken a toll upon both sides as such as had never seen before, not even with the first war.

His brother had clearly learned much since then.

There were lumps in the dirt as he went past. Some were still as stone. Some still shook with the last quivers of life. Here and there a broken wing stuck out from the sands. Perhaps they moved, either under their own power or by the hot winds that blew across the sand. Michael couldn't stop.

He heard a rumour on the winds, a rumour that chilled him to the very core of his existence. He needed to bear witness with his own eyes.

Michael crested a rise in the sand, the firmness under his boot indicated it was a rock formation of some description. It raised him high enough that he could survey the battlefield. He took in the carnage with his blue eyes without blinking. This was where the fighting was the heaviest. This was the vanguard of the King of Hell's personal forces, where they bore the brunt of Heaven's attack. Michael was meant to be at the forefront of that attack if not for a rogue crosswind that buffeted him and blew him to the edges of the battle. There he fought to regain his place in the centre but the enemy distracted his sword. Many demons fell to his blade, just as many angels flew to his side. It had been a slaughter. This had been no glorious fight for honour.

He fought for days without rest, until the rumour that spread like wildfire broke the heart of the defenders.

Even now, Michael didn't dare to speak the words of the rumour aloud, the rumour that made him lift foot after foot in the literal godforsaken hellscape that was the Ring of Pride.

Something unnameable in his heart made him feel like he was drowning under his skin. That same something stared out through his eyes and screamed behind his closed mouth. Something was happening to him that he couldn't identify. Something that he couldn't mirror on his outward features.

He had no time for that. Just as he had no time for rumours. He needed the truth.

Michael of Heaven needed to bear witness to the truth.

Spreading his six wings wide, he leapt from the rise and glided across the battlefield. He needed to see this rumour in person.

Angel and demon looked up at him as he flew over their heads. There was no more fighting now. Sinners and Winners alike had laid down their weapons. If Michael had a thought to spare them, he might have seen in them the same weariness that he felt.

It was senseless. It all felt senseless now. This battle, this war, had been so clear in the beginning, the purpose a burning brightness in his mind's eye. It had been important to lead his hosts to Hell, to eradicate the rot that festered there. He would excise the rot and cauterise the wound as if he were Raphael.

It all seemed so clear then.

Now his mind seemed to be under a fog. Nothing made sense. What was once his path lit with golden light was now darkened and mired in brambles.

Only one thing was clear to Michael and that something was very wrong.

The hilt of his sword was still in his hand, the bright blade still shined with its own truth. The hilt was one that had formed under his grip for his thousands of years, and yet the leather wrapped hilt felt like thorns were piercing his immutable skin.

Michael pushed past that feeling. He had a singular goal right now, and nothing could distract him, not even the heavy ball of dread that weighed down his heart. He ignored the calls from his scattered host, the Winners and other Heavenborn he had taken to battle. He could sense Heavenly portals open over the field and knew that they would be taken care of. For now he flew, flew as far as he could go, and then he landed, his wings no longer able to bear his weight and the weight of the sky above them. Everything felt heavy.

A hoard of demons reeled back as he landed in their presence. Michael took no note of them though he had an impression of demons of various sizes and shapes. Some tall and hulkling, some closer to his frame in height. Only one tried to lay a hand on his person to halt his progress and that one regretted it instantly, falling back and clutching his hand where Michael's holy light burned him. He walked on, the crowd parting before him until he reached partway to his destination and someone stepped before him.

"Sin of Lust," Michael murmured. "Step away, Iblis."

"Prince of Hosts, I go by Asmodeus now." The tall demon filled the path before him, his long tail feathers swaying in the hot wind. "Let them be, Prince Michael. Please."

Michael lifted his head, now giving Asmodeus who was once called Iblis his full attention. "I must confirm the rumour. I must see this with my own eyes." It felt like a compulsion now, a clear burning need that nothing else could slake as if a geas had been laid upon him.

"I know you can cut me down without blinking an eye-"

"-I can."

"Nice. That's just nice. Look, all I'm asking is that you give the grieving family room."

"I, too, am family."

Asmodeus sighed. "Yeah, I suppose you are. Well, let's go together."

They fell in step together. A slight figure in the crowd gestured something at Asmodeus, to which the Sin of Lust responded with a wave. "It's okay, Froggy. We're good."

Despite himself, Michael looked up at Asmodeus.

"Nothing to be worried about. That was just my husband checking on me."

"Husband." Michael turned this word over in his mouth like it was a foreign concept. "A demon hellborn of the Imp variety. Interesting."

"Yeah, that's my Froggy. What, you thought I'd marry for power?" Michael analysed Asmodeus' open beaked smile. It wasn't a smile of amusement but one that promised a threat.

"Yes, I suppose that marrying a lesser demon is a demonstration of your power, or to declare that you don't care about power."

"That could be it. Or it could be that I married for love and love alone."

"What sort of message is that?" Michael paused then said, "I suppose that marrying for love is inline with your Sin."

"I'm not the only one who married for love."

"Love," said Michael. "My brother fell for love. Don't tell me that love is a kindly emotion. If I were to recognize love, love that swayed me away from my duty, I would excise it out."

"Whoa, okay there, edgelord."

Michael stopped and poked Asmodeus in the stomach, as high up as he could reach. "Speaking of love, where is the creature that caused my brother to fall? Where is she? I would have words with her."

Asmodeus shook his head. "The family is grieving."

"All of creation is grieving, Iblis." There, he gave name to the heaviness felt by every soul. This was a dark day on any plane, even on Earth. Perhaps especially on Earth.

Asmodeus drew in a sharp breath. "That is no longer my name."

Drawing in his temper, Michael inclined his head ever so slightly. "My apologies, I remember."

Lesser demons milled about them. Michael felt their eyes upon him and knew that even in a group that none of them could hope to rival his might. He could eliminate them, all of them, with a single swing of his sword. He wouldn't. There was a weight upon all of Creation now, the same weight that weighed down his bones and his heart. He could, but he wouldn't. Creation would despair if more souls perished this day.

Michael wasn't sure how Creation would recover.

That was a thought for another time.

For now, he gestured onwards with his sword. "We still have a ways to go."

"That we do."

They continued onwards. The strata of lesser demons now gave way to the more powerful. The milling Imps and Hounds turned into Succubi and Baphomets, and then Sinners. That last group had the least uniform characteristics of all demons. Michael eyed them as they walked past and knew that many recognized him on sight. The Hellborn were one thing. They couldn't help where they had been born and Michael did allow them an iota of mercy and consideration for that part. Sinners choose Hell over Heaven. He couldn't forgive that. Perhaps sensing that lack of mercy, they too lay hot eyes upon him. Michael could taste their collective sins in the air around them, a cloying taste that made him want to scrape the skin from his tongue and throat.

Of all demon kind, he hated Sinners the most. Each one reminding him of how his brother forced his hand, of how he put his foot on Samael's neck. The gaze of his twin's burning hatred was seared into Michael's memory. Each Sinner was like the first rebellious liar, and he would never forget what that one made his brother do, not even when all of creation collapsed in the heat death of the universe would he ever forget or forgive Sinners for what they had all ultimately done.

Asmodeus and him walked in silence now. They were quite the mismatched pair, Michael thought. He wondered what the gathered demons saw when they laid eyes on him. He wondered why he even cared to spare a thought.

The throng of Sinners gave way to the Ars Goetia. Perhaps it was this grouping of demons that could cause an angel of the lesser choirs grief, but there was still none of them the equal of the Prince of Hosts. Even Samael fell to his might, and Samael had been the strongest of them all.

If he continued to think about Samael in that way, then he held the memory of Samael in his heart. Samael the most joyous of them, the most creative and the most sensitive. Samael before the fall, his twin brother, creation to his destruction.

Never would they ever see another like him.

Without changing expression, Michael carefully sealed the longing for his brother back within his heart. In a well practised inward gesture, he stitched shut the crack from which Samael peeked through before armouring that crack with Heavenly alloys. None should know what lay in his heart of hearts. He had chosen duty over all else and only duty would guide his hand. There would be nothing else bar duty.

Even in this. Duty must be served.

Beyond the milling Goetia were the gathered Sins. They faced the centre not knowing that Michael was at their backs. They only turned when Asmodeus cleared his throat.

"Let me pass," said Michael.

The one called Abaddon and now called Satan turned and stepped forward, his yellow eyes narrowing under the brim of his hat. "Come to finish the job, Taxiarch? You won't find the rest of us that easy."

"No. I will find it an even easier task." The invisible teeth in his sword's hilt bit into his hand as he readied his grip, his wings flared out. "Come forth and try me."

"All right now, you can stop all of this posturing. All he wants to do is bear witness."

"Then he can do so with a sheathed sword."

Michael knew he didn't have to acquiesce to the demand. He was Michael, unique creation of Elohim. He bowed his head to no one.

He sheathed the blade in a single movement, one that he had made many times over the course of his existence.

Satan snorted, his nostrils flaring, but he stepped aside. "There will be trouble if you draw that sword upon the Princess," he rumbled as they passed. Michael only raised a brow in response.

Beyond the circle formed by the Sins, there was a dome of impenetrable darkness. It was taller than the tallest demon and twice as wide. There were swirling night within, shadowy mists that were buffeted by winds contained by the dome.

Princess Charlotte stood before the dome, her hands against the solid surface of the dome. Besides her was the fallen Exorcist, Vaggie, who appeared to be trying to pull her away. Around them were a gaggle of other demons. Michael paid them no mind. He stepped forward and, approaching the princess, spoke.

"Where is King Lucifer?" His voice was not raised above the normal register, his words and tone were even, but still a tremor went through the crowd.

Charlotte jumped and turned, looking at him with wide eyes. "Dad?" she said, hope rising in her voice. Then the differences between his twin and him became more apparent and her outstretched hand dropped. Michael wore his hair long, tied neatly at the nape. The markings on his face and wings were gold, and his eyes were the blue of a winter's sky. The fallen Exorcist stood in front of her, a living shield, but ultimately one in vain even with her spear pointed in his direction.

"No," she said. "It's Michael."

Michael came to a stop an arms length before them. "Yes. I am Michael. I am here to bear witness to the rumour that Lucifer has fallen. Where is he?"

"Don't come any closer," Vaggie hissed.

This was getting tiresome. He gripped the spearhead and without appearing to expand any effort, he slowly used it to force her to her knees.

Vaggie gasped and released her grip on the spear, stumbling back. Michael didn't drop the weapon into the dirt. It was a valiant effort, one that he could admire. He wouldn't disrespect the weapon of one so fearless, but Vaggie was outmatched. He offered the spear back by the shaft.

"I ask again," his soft voice never rising above a whisper now. "Where is my twin's body?"

Michael couldn't explain the slip in his composure. Perhaps it was the long war, and the long days of battle. Perhaps it was Charlotte's face that looked so much like Samael's (or was it so much like his own?). This was his niece, his blood. Something in him wanted to claim that kinship for all they were on opposite sides.

Charlotte swallowed. Michael saw now that her eyes were red and puffy. She glanced over her shoulder, an involuntary movement before turning back to Michael. "He...They're in there. Alastor, my step-father Alastor, he's locked himself in there with Dad's body. I..." She wiped her eyes with the back of a gloved hand. "I can't get to him."

"Hmm." Michael glanced at the dome, then around at the demons gathered with Charlotte. There was a mix of Goetia and Overlords, Lucifer's captains if the Sins were his generals. He then looked back at Asmodeus. Satan had joined him, as did Leviathan and Beelzebub. He knew them all from the old days. He caught Asmodeus' eye and inclined his head in Charlotte's direction.

"Hey, Char Char bear," said Asmodeus to who was very likely his new queen.

"Oh, Uncle Ozzie." Charlotte went to stand under Asmodeus' outstretched wing, Vaggie joining her after a measured glare at Michael.

Then he was alone before the dome. The gathering of demons had wisely moved away from the dome, wary of what Michael intended to do.

Aware of the eyes upon him, seen and unseen, he approached the dome. He laid a hand upon the glass-like surface and pushed. There was resistance but with a little more effort, his hand sank past the taut surface tension and he pushed through. He followed through by walking forward. It was like entering a bubble without it popping. Step by step, he allowed himself to enter into the dome until he fully emerged into the darkness.

It was like a storm within. Michael felt it was very much like being in the worst fury of a cyclone. Tearing winds pulled at him in all directions, all the forces of the tempest wishing nothing more than to shred and cut. Wild static buzzed across his senses. If it were any other storm, Michael would not have paid it any mind, but there was something there, amongst the rage and frenzy, something in the heart of the storm that echoed the empty gaping loss within him.

Michael bowed his head, for a moment allowing himself to feel a little of that loss, that despair. He never regretted what he had done in the name of duty, even as Samael's blue eyes turned red just before he was thrown down from Heaven's heights. He didn't feel that regret now, but a thin sliver of pain cut him from within. It was but a moment then he lifted his head and moved forward towards the centre of the gale. Walking through the storm was the feat of nothing for a being like Michael. He walked until it seemed that he had crossed the breadth of the dome five times over, and he still walked. Crossing stretched space created by grief was nothing new to Michael. He kept on walking in the darkness of tormenting winds.

Presently he could see a dim light up ahead. It was tinged with green and high above, much higher than he estimated the top of the dome to be. As he moved closer, he saw great antlers branching off overhead. He saw the shadows of a giant figure, gaunt for its frame, its eyes were a burning black and black ichor flowing down its pale face. The mouth he saw was gritted in a rictus grin but Michael read despair rather than resistance. This was the first time that Michael had laid eyes on him, but he had no doubt that this was the Prince Consort Alastor.

Lucifer's body was in its arms, held close to a bony chest. He wasn't moving, sheltered from the winds by the antlered demon's body. His gold eyes were dull and open, staring into nothing as his face was lax. Golden blood stained his torn white clothing, dripping from his body down to the red dirt of Pride. A part of Micheal would have liked to say that new growth sprang forth where Lucifer's blood fell, but that was not the case. The ground was gold stained and that was that. Lucifer's hat was still on his head, the crown adorned on the brim still bright gold despite the days of heavy battle. It was a strange detail that Michael noted at the moment. The apple headed sceptre lay at Alastor's feet, broken in two.

Michael stopped his advance and considered the Sinner. For all his contempt of Sinners, here was one who showed faith. He could afford to be compassionate. "Alastor," he said simply. "Look at me."

Alastor betrayed no indication that he'd heard, not for a few minutes. Presently he blinked and lowered his great head, his red and black hair hanging limply like a curtain around his face. "You are not him." Michael was not prepared for the anguish in those words. He closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

"Yes. I'm not. Nevertheless you are needed, Alastor. Duty calls you."

Alastor lifted his head and wailed, an echoing cry of sorrow that the winds tore from his throat. "Duty!" The roar made the ground beneath their feet tremble. Michael once again heard radio static across his skin, emanating from Alastor. "Duty!"

"In the end, there is only duty," said Michael. His hand ached. In his heart, Samael pounded upon the bindings holding him hostage.

Alastor screamed. Black lighting streaked overhead and he lowered his head over the body in his arms. "Duty," he said in a soft voice, black tears streaming down his face. Michael didn't think that anyone else would have heard what he said. Shadowy winds whipped around them in a frenzy and the green light of Alastor's power pulsed.

"Fucking duty. Very well." Alastor climbed laboriously to his feet. He swayed uncertainly before finding his balance and took a step forward. Michael turned and led the way out. Perhaps he needn't have bothered as with each step he took, the wind died down a little. Alastor's immense height shrank little by little until he was only a little hulking, like a spindly antlered tree now instead of a remnant of Earth's megafauna. The dome dissolved around them, the red sky of Pride suddenly bright to Michael's eyes.

"Alastor! Dad!"

Michael stepped aside as Princess Charlotte ran forward, slowing uncertainly as she drew close to Alastor. Lucifer's body was starkly still. Charlotte cried out, her hands going to her mouth.

"So he is dead." Asmodeus drew by his side. He sounded tired as though the same heaviness that weighed down Michael's bones weighed down his. Michael didn't answer him, feeling in his hand the phantom pain from his sword hilt. "Did...Did he at least put up a good fight?"

Michael looked up at Asmodeus in surprise. "I did not kill him. I was blown away from the vanguard."

Asmodeus looked at him, not comprehending his words. "If it wasn't you, then who else was strong enough to kill Lucifer?"

Michael stared at that still body, questions whirling in his head. Who indeed?

Who indeed?

An old fury began to stoke in his heart.

Who dared interfere in the deeds of angels?

A movement to the side caught his attention. Sensing that tact was needed, he kept his eyes straight ahead at the grieving princess, but he saw a demon with a television for a head move away from a hooded figure. Something about that figure looked familiar, no matter that they were wrapped up tightly in a purple robe of lush fabric.

Asmodeus drew his attention once more. "What other power could destroy him? He was a Seraph, almost indestructible." The Sin of Lust seemed to be in a state of shock, he didn't seem to even be breathing, caught unawares by this revelation.

Michael narrowed his eyes. "What indeed?" The same power that could destroy Samael could destroy him, and he, the Taxiarch of all the host would know of what threats there are. He was not easily caught unawares.

For now he watched as Charlotte held on to Alastor's arm, looking up into his face before glancing down at her father's.

Michael could leave now. He had done what he had come to do. He had borne witness to the death of the King of Hell. Heaven would be satisfied with that report alone. Heaven would not care as to Charlotte's fate. Heaven would not care if all of Hell fell into disarray. No, it would suit Heaven's needs if Hell fell to anarchy. A Hell in chaos would mean that there would be no threat to Heaven's safety. It would be the best outcome.

Except that Michael knew that there would not be a Hell if Samael had not been exiled. A treacherous thought indeed, but one fueled by the image of Sa--Lucifer's still body. It was a wonder the Creator did not reach down and strike him for that thought, but then again, They had not done so thus far.

"Lucifer is dead." His voice, soft as it ever was, rang across the battlefield like a crack of thunder. Charlotte turned to look at him, her expression stricken. It occurred to Michael that she was very young. She was out of infancy when compared to the beings around her, born into a war between such ancient forces as Heaven and Hell. Even the Sinner her step-father had more experience than his years.

Asmodeus straightened beside him. "The King is dead," the rooster crowed. "Long live the Queen."

There was silence but only for a moment before the call was picked up by another demon, one of the Sins. "The King is dead. Long live the Queen!" One by one, other demons echoed the cry until it spread across the field and there was nothing but the ringing cry.

Charlotte turned around, looking at all the faces around her, her eyes still bright with tears. She was saying something, her mouth moving. Michael thought it was a protestation and that would not be allowed. Hell needed a figurehead or Heaven would choose one for them. She half turned to Alastor, her mouth opening but something made her stop. It was Alastor, his eyes still dark embers but his inhumanly twisted hand gently picked Lucifer's hat and plucked the crown from the brim. The little golden snake woke and crawled off the hand, into Charlotte's waiting hand and she caught the apple with the other. She closed her eyes and opened them, a different person, no longer a scared child but a woman ready to take her place in the world.

Alastor set the crown on her head. "Long live the Queen," he rasped, static clouding the air around him.

Charlotte lifted her head, facing the support of her people. Charlotte of Hell, first born of the Devil.

Yes. This was the news that Michael would take to Heaven.

He turned to move, his task accomplished when the television headed demon stepped forward.

"Long live the Queen," he declared as he knelt. "And long live the Grand Duke Alastor."

"The Grand Duke Alastor!" This was a new cry, the words shouted out were a much ready cheer. "Hail Grand Duke Alastor!"

Even Michael, for all his disdain of Sinners, could see how the title hurt. Alastor reeled back as if he had taken a physical blow. He had no doubt that Alastor loved Lucifer. That much was obvious. There had been no spy report that claimed that their marriage had been a loveless sham.  No one would shed that much despair for someone that they didn't love. No, Michael remembered reading the proposal contract. This was indeed Alastor's title as Lucifer's widower.

"Hail the Sin of Pride," said Satan.

"Hail the Grand Duke," said Queen Charlotte, half turning to face Alastor. Alastor didn't respond, only bowing his head as his antlers formed his own ducal crown above his head. Michael could feel it, feel Hell responding to its new caretakers.

Just as Hell empowered its new caretakers, it abandoned the old. There was nothing in Lucifer's will that held provision for his former wife, Lilith.

The enrobed figure gave an involuntary cry and doubled over. The hood fell away, revealing long, flowing blonde hair. Tall proud horns shrank as Hell took back some of its prestige. Michael didn't dare fall under the assumption that she was without power.

"Mom?"

Lilith straightened. "Charlie, my darling." Her smile was strained as she reached for her daughter.

"Mom, what's wrong?"

"My Queen, if I may," said Asmodeus. "Hell doesn't need two queens."

"Doesn't need...?" Charlotte must have been more innocent that Michael realised if the concept hadn't occurred to her until then.

"Indeed," he said. "Heaven will only recognize one ruler of Hell." Michael met Lilith's lilac glare with a twist of his mouth.

"You. You always wanted me to fall."

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Michael's hand fell to his sword with the full intention to draw. He only promised not to draw his blade on the Princess. No one said anything about the former queen Lilith.

"Prince Michael." The Grand Duke's static filled words caught his attention. "If you please, this is an internal matter." Alastor still hadn't lowered Lucifer's body from his arms. He clutched him to his chest with a white knuckled grip, his eyes were voids to which only despair stared out. Michael envied him the ability to grieve openly. That avenue was closed to him. Neither of them noticed the glare that Lilith shot in Alastor's direction. Eyes on Michael and Alastor, no one noticed the television headed demon swinging his head between Michael and Lilith, then Lilith and Alastor, and shaking his head, made more room between himself and Lilith.

"Very well." Michael spread his wings, causing Asmodeus to step away. "This is a matter for Hell. I take my leave. There is a truce for now. An envoy will be sent for further negotiation." He beat them once, lifting himself into the air high above them and then he was off, soaring over the heads of a multitude of demons. There was still much to do on the battlefield. He had to gather his host, account for the loss. There was no time for his personal grief, even if it was allowed for him.

There was only duty.

In the end, there was only duty.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

200 years after the death of Lucifer Morningstar

Alastor woke in an empty bed.

This was not new. He had woken up alone in the bed that he shared with his husband for over two hundred years now. Nothing had changed. This was a day like any other. He sat up in bed, in the quiet of his room, though he heard movement outside in the antechamber.

At exactly five am on the dot, his valet stepped through with a tray. "Good morning, your grace!" Nelphus chirped. He was a smart looking Goetia with a long narrow beak that curved gently. Alastor would have said that he looked like an ibis, but he never questioned the man. On Nelphus's tray was a carafe of coffee, a newspaper and notes on his meetings and petitions of the day that his secretary, Stippens, had organised the day before. Nelphus smartly set the tray on his lap, and poured Alastor a cup of freshly brewed coffee, then set the carafe on the nightstand and equally smartly stepped into Alastor's wardrobe where his clothes had been laid out the night before.

Alastor sipped his coffee, enjoying the bitter notes on his tongue before setting his monocle in his eye and perused the newspaper. It appeared that there had been nothing overnight that needed his urgent attention, but if it were anything urgent enough he would have been woken. There were marriage and death announcements, the shocking exploits of nobility and celebrities and it looks like Princess Seir had totaled her very expensive sports car again. Alastor made a humming noise, making sure to inquire about the closeness between the Ars Goetia princess and Prince Dion Morningstar because the last time he checked, they had been very close.

"Has his grace come across the car accident yet?" Nelphus appeared at the closet door, several ties over one hand and a hat in the other.

"Yes. I can't remember, is this Dion's close friend or was that Princess Pursan?"

Nelphus squinted. "I think the queen forbade Dion to see Pursan last week."

"No, I'm sure that was Dantalian."

"I'll have Stippens look it up. Chamberlain would have records."

Alastor hummed again, nodding his head. He picked his coffee again and took a sip. It was still blisteringly hot, just the way he liked it. When the newspaper failed to reveal further news or gossip, he turned to his meeting notes for the day. Overlord report. Meeting with the queen (official). Lunch with the queen (unofficial). Catch up with King Stolas. Meeting with the Sins (remote). A relatively light on the workload day to make up for the following day where he would sit in the public petitions with Charlie.

"Do you need the Overlord report to be rescheduled?"

A tempting thought. Alastor considered it for a flat second before shaking his head. "No, I need to listen to what the Overlords have to say." He raised a brow at Nelphus. "You don't like having the Overlords in the palace?"

Nelphus shrugged, a terribly casual gesture but he'd been Alastor's employ for a decade now. "I don't mind the old ones, but saving your grace, the ones from your century are

rude

."

Alastor flicked through the notes and picked up the paper with information on the Overlords meeting with the tips of his long fingers. He'd barely scanned through it and wondered how he missed Vox's name. "Convey my apologies to the staff and arrange the usual treat for downstairs."

"Of course."

Alastor took a moment to enjoy the quiet of the morning, the only time he had to himself at a waking hour before lifting the tray off his lap to get dressed.

He was out the door by fifteen to six, looking polished and stern in his now customary head to toe black. A gold ring caught the light on his left hand, his cane in his other hand. Nelphus trailed him, the grand duke's case of meeting notes in his hand, his hat in the other. Their destination was a sitting room a floor up where the queen and her family had their casual meals.

Alastor was not the first there, or perhaps Dion was already laying on a sofa as the staff laid out the breakfast settings. The young Morningstar was snoring gently, his hat covering his face. Alastor looked at him, feeling not for the first time the twinge in his heart as he looked upon Lucifer's grandson. Of all Charlie and Vaggie's children, Dion looked most like Charlie, and thus his grandfather. It made dealing with him difficult and frustrating for all that Alastor knew he could be more.

Pushing back sentimentality, Alastor rapped his cane sharply against the wooden armrest of the sofa. "Good morning! Up you get!"

Dion snorted awake, his hat falling away. He stared blurrily at Alastor. "What are you doing in my room?"

"If you would look around, you will observe that you are not in your room. You should thank me for waking you. What if your mothers found you? Or worse, your siblings find you?"

Dion blinked and sat up. It was a low sofa and his knees almost comically went up to his ears.

"You have five minutes to sneak to your room but there's a chance you'll bump into Adelaide in the hallways, or you can join me now."

The young prince scowled. "So bad and bad?"

Nelphus knew better than to react but Alastor could tell his valet was upset. "If you wish to see it that way," Alastor said, his tone even. "There's bacon at least."

Turning on his heel, Alastor took his place at the foot of the table. It was large enough to accommodate their small family, particularly since Merope was far too little to join them yet. Alastor would see her at lunch.

Dion gingerly lifted himself off the sofa and took a few steps towards the door before stopping. "It hurts when I walk," he said in some amazement. "The impact from the floor is vibrating up my skeleton and into my head."

Not missing a beat, Alastor lifted a cloche and spooned bacon and toast onto a setting closest to Dion. The young prince eyed the small mountain of breakfast meats before dropping bonelessly into the chair, picking up crisp slices of bacon with his bare hand.

Alastor sliced into his own meal, picking up egg and bacon with his fork. "A word of advice from an old man who was once young. Draft out your story in your head now."

Dion chewed with insolence. "Yeah, sure. You're the type that was old and boring as soon as they got out of diapers."

Alastor smiled even as Nelphus' hand shook as he poured out a cup for him. "I'm surprised that you think so."

Narrowing his eyes at him, Dion chewed on his bacon, clearly trying to see where the jab was in his words. Alastor wondered where this animosity had come from. He had excellent relations with the young prince as he grew up. Was it indeed the famed insolence of adolescence rebellion? Perhaps it was. For all his actual years, Alastor estimated his age to be around seventeen. He would need a few more years to mature. Charlie certainly did.

Then again, there was Adelaide. She came into the room now, a dazzling sight with Charlie (Lucifer's) pale golden hair and Vaggie's eyes and grey skin. She stepped into the room with military precision, stopping once to assay the situation, then took her place at Alastor's right, directly opposite Dion. She planted a kiss on Alastor's cheek before she settled into her chair. "Good morning, gran-pær." Adelaide was freshly showered. She woke even earlier than Alastor to run practices with the palace guard. Her long hair was still damp as it lay in a long braid against her spine, but her uniform was crisp and pressed. "And what time did you get in?"

Dion sat up straight, glaring at her. "How did you know? Who told you?"

Adelaide laid a napkin across her lap. She took her time pouring her own tea and lifted it to her lips. "You did," she said sweetly. "Just now."

"Like you've never stayed out partying."

"But you see, I was smart about how I returned."

Alastor, who had witnessed

that

tremulous time, would not have attested to that. "Thank you, Adelaide. Now that you're here, you can help your brother compose a suitable lie for your mothers."

Dion stood, flinging his napkin to the table. "I don't need her help, or yours. Mind your own business." He stopped out, or tried to. The young man had to stop and hold his aching head before continuing on with more careful steps.

"Beelzejuice," said Adelaide. "Hell of a hangover. I read that Princess Seir crashed a car again." She sipped her tea, her pink eyes dancing with rare humour. "How are you this morning, gran-pær?"

Alastor managed a small smile. "I could be better but that is life."

"I hear he'll grow out of it. That's what everyone in the guard says, anyway."

Rather than share what was really on his mind, Alastor nodded. "You did, in all regards."

"I like to think I was much better than that."

Alastor only continued to smile.

They were the only ones at breakfast at that hour. They had been the only ones up at this hour for several years now. Alastor liked to think that he had built a rapport with Adelaide. She had Charlie's round face but Vaggie's steel spine. She would make an excellent queen when her time came. Even as she was her own person, she had picked up one of Charlie's tells, the curling of the end of her braid around her finger. Adelaide clearly had something she wanted to ask him.

Alastor wondered how long he would let this go on for. Would he need to reach out...? No, Adelaide set down her cup and turned to face him. "Gran-pær, you're meeting with the Overlords today, aren't you? Can I sit in?"

"Was that all you wanted to ask me?" Oh the pang in his heart. Some traits bred through like this inability to be direct at will. "May I ask why?"

"Well! I wanted to take more responsibility and I thought that it would good for me to see how

you

conducted meetings."

There was merit to the request. "You are welcome to sit in, certainly. What of your responsibilities with the guard?"

"I swapped some shifts around. I'm taking the nightwatch for the first time tonight."

Alastor laid down his knife and fork.

"Nothing goes on, gran-pær. You know you're the first to be told if there's any bumps in the night."

"And you've discussed this with your queen?"

Adelaide winced at his choice of words. "Well, no, but Captain Sabnock will speak with them when he delivers his morning report. He's got full trust in me."

Alastor leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Does he now? Well, the captain knows your capabilities better than anyone."

Adelaide nodded. "I can do this."

"I know you can." As Adelaide beamed at that praise, Alastor knew he wasn't going to sleep a wink that night.

*

Alastor may have been counted among the Overlords some centuries ago, that didn't mean that he liked any of them. It was interesting to see if there were new faces in their roster but the three that came to represent the Pride Ring's Overlords were old hands at the job. There was Rosie, dear Rosie who he didn't see as often as he'd like. Carmilla Carmine was also among their number, clearly holding on to her seat as chairperson with all her might all these centuries. Then there was Vox. Enough said.

These three were escorted to Alastor's office where they were invited to take their seats before his ebony desk. Alastor deigned to stand when they entered, both as a mark of respect for the power they held and for the long years he'd known them all.

"Grand Duke, thank you for seeing us." Carmilla bowed. Rosie curtsied, hiding a wink as she inclined her head. Vox also bowed, his expression unreadable to Alastor. Alastor didn't pay much attention to him. Those days were long gone.

"Representatives of the Sovereign Overlords, welcome, and please take a seat. If you don't mind, Princess Adelaide has requested to join us." Adelaide, standing at Alastor's shoulder, nodded genially at the Overlords.

"Of course, I don't mind at all. I would value the Princess's input." Carmilla bowed at the princess.

Adelaide beamed. "Thank you, Overlord Carmine." She nodded politely at the other Overlords, meeting Vox's calculating stare with a wide grin. It was easy to look at Adelaide and think that she was like her mother at that age.

Alastor sat down first. He waited for the others to also settle into their chairs. They hadn't changed much over the past centuries. Vox perhaps had updated his suit but Carmilla's eyes were no less warm then when he was a humble Overlord. Perhaps they were more careful now as they studied him, cooling assessing and wondering where his weak points were. That was how he took down the old Overlords when he arrived in Hell. They had settled and grown fat (metaphorically) on their power. They had neglected to watch their backs. Perhaps that was how he would go as well.

Rosie sat neatly in her chair, her legs tucked neatly to the side and her hands folded on her lap. She smiled at him, but it was Vox that drew his attention. His head was even more ridiculous than previous incarnations. At least it was solid matter then. Now it was a holographic display that projected his features from a lightsource at his neck. Absolutely ridiculous. He inclined in his chair, ankle crossed at the knee as he looked around the room with a sneer on his mouth. It was possible that he thought that Alastor's tastes in interior decoration were old fashioned and dreary. Perhaps they were. Alastor preferred dark wood furniture. The walls hung with antlers and portraits framed in gilt. In pride of place was a portrait of Lucifer and Alastor, both grinning, hand over hand to show off their rings. A touch of the old jealousy, perhaps? Never mind. Alastor didn't have the energy for that these days. Adelaide opted to remain standing.

"Your grace, if I may," said Carmilla. "We have several items of concern we the Overlords would like to bring up to the palace."

"Of course. I've read your items of concern." Alastor had their itemized list in front of him.

They were not the only ones in the room, of course. There were rare moments these days when Alastor found himself left completely alone. There were guards standing outside at the door. They were to come in at the first sign of trouble. Stippens the secretary sat at a side table, diligently taking the meeting minutes and Nelphus was behind him, ready to jump up and assist. The both of them were remarkable in how they were able to fade into the background despite being clearly in the room, Stippens especially. Alastor had never picked up that knack. He'd always been a front and centre person.

"Excellent. Since you have them, you can send a response to the Overlords at your leisure. There are more important things to bring to your attention."

Alastor leaned back in his high-backed chair, his fingers steepling. He didn't like being being blindsided like this. "Very well, what are they?"

"The first of these are the rumours that an agreement with Heaven has been struck regarding a renewed Extermination event. I hope that you can see why this would be of some concern to us."

Alastor felt himself grow cold. Angels on Pride soil. Again. No. This could not be allowed.

"What? Angels?" If Alastor didn't betray that this was news, then Adelaide certainly did.

"I have not heard of any such rumours. Stippens. Have you?"

The colour drained from Stippens' face. Literally. He was a Sinner with chameleon features. Alastor prized his ability to read two documents at the same time, very efficient. Right now, he was stark white. He had never lived through an Extermination, having only died in the last fifty years.

"No, your grace," Stippens squeaked. "But I hadn't gone out of the palace on my last day off, so I couldn't say."

When was the last time that Alastor had gone out of the palace to socialise? Was it six months ago to see Rosie? Longer than that? Who knows. The work was neverending.

"Nevertheless," Carmilla continued. "The rumour exists and gains traction by the day."

"What do these rumours say?"

"Mostly they say the palace is useless at keeping the rest of us safe," said Vox, his grin no less shark-like for it being a hologram. "From what it looks to me, you're doing what you're doing best - being a useless old-timey freak!"

Alastor pulled at Adelaide's sleeve, holding her back as Carmilla turned, her eyes flashing.

"Vox, I brought you along because of your promise to maintain a civil tongue." Over Carmilla's shoulder, Rosie also displayed her sharp cannibal teeth. Vox scowled and turned his face away. If he wasn't defeated, he was definitely along in his vitriol. Carmilla narrowed her eyes then turned back to Alastor. "My apologies, Grand Duke."

"I find that the more things change, Carmilla, the more they stay the same. What of this rumours?"

"As best as I was able to track the root these rumours down, I have only been able to discover that they have been circulating for about a month."

"I put my own feelers out as soon as I heard them, yer grace." Rosie nodded. "My boys ran into Carmilla's girls on the streets and that's how we got to talking."

"And you?" Alastor flicked his eyes in Vox's direction. The Television Demon started, as if surprised that he was being addressed. "Carmilla wouldn't have brought you along if you hadn't had anything pertinent to add."

Vox straightened in his seat. "Yeah, one of my aides had been stammering about something like this, then another and then it seemed like the whole building wouldn't talk about anything else. Now I know that your queen can't keep a secret so if she's been meeting with Heaven, all of Hell would know about it."

"

I

would know about it," said Alastor.

"And

I

would know about it. Mom wouldn't keep secrets from the

both

of us."

"Of course, Princess," Carmilla murmured.

"Yeah, but would you tell the rest of us? We know where your loyalties lie."

"And what," Alastor said, ice forming in his tone. "Do you mean by that?"

Vox gripped the arms of his chair. "Hey, I just meant you're loyal to the Morningstar family."

"I also have a responsibility to Hell and all its citizens. Including Sinners."

"Yeah? Seems to me that you cater more to the Hellborn these days."

"Vox, if you cannot behave then I invite you to leave." Carmilla's eyes took on a red glow.

"No thanks, I got more that his grace needs to hear. Isn't that right, Alastor?"

Alastor could feel Nelphus vibrating in disapproval. "Carry on your story, Overlord."

"Once I heard about it, I started scanning the recordings. I can narrow down that the rumour started in a dive bar in the Doomsday District. Can't tell you where it came from beyond that."

The Doomsday District. Efforts had been made to clean up the Doomsday District but like roaches the bottom feeders of the city always found their way back Doomsday to deal death and destruction on every street corner. Alastor was not at all surprised that's where the rumour started. That's where he'd start if he didn't want to be traced.

"It's a wonder that you even managed to get any information out of Doomsday considering how often your cameras get destroyed there."

"What can I say? I'm good at what I do."

"Hmm. Evidently. What precisely is the content of these rumours?"

"Well, Alastor, that's how we know they're just rumours. They say that the Morningstar family is organizing a royal marriage between Heaven and Hell and the Exterminations are part of Hell's dowry." Rosie raised a brow. "It sounds like a lot of fear mongering to me."

Alastor blinked. "That is preposterous. None of the royal heirs are of an age for Cha -- her majesty to consider marriage, yet alone revive the Exterminations. Lucifer

died

for those Exterminations to end." A small part of him whispered that Heaven was still recovering from the last war and couldn't afford to send the Exorcists again.

"I mean, I...?"

"Adelaide, no." Alastor softened his tone for her, gentling his eyes as he looked up. "No," he said again, more firmly. He would protect Lucifer's family from this threat, whatever it may turn out to be.

Rosie nodded with a sympathetic smile. "We all know this rumour is ridiculous, but it's doing it's best to harm the palace."

"There is a high level of unrest among the Sinners, Your Grace. A falsehood or no, it is still worth for the palace to investigate."

Alastor nodded curtly. "And this rumour will be investigated."

"I can take a troop of guard out as early as this morning."

"This will not be a task for the Queensguard, Princess," said Carmilla. She raised her brows at Alastor.

"No. Not the guard," Alastor agreed. "We'll discuss this with Sabnock.

"Excellent. There is another urgent matter that may be linked to the rumour."

"Yes?"

"The other concern that we wanted to bring to your attention.  Prince Dion's behaviour is the subject of many conversations regarding the relevancy of Hell's monarchy."

Alastor was glad that he hadn't picked up his cup for a drink. He would have severely embarrassed himself by spraying cold tea into Carmilla Camine's face. As it was...yes. Adelaide was biting her lip. She knew when to let Alastor take the lead.

"The

relevancy

of the

monarchy

? What are they going to do? Storm the palace into certain doom to tear down Queen Charlotte?" Alastor would later admit that he could have handled himself better there. Rosie covered her mouth. Et tu? "The relevancy of the monarchy? Are the redcoats coming soon? Is Paul Revere going to ring a bell up and down the coast?"

"Your Grace, please." Carmilla didn't look amused. "It is a serious matter. You cannot argue that Prince Dion's conduct has had the best show of the royal family's face."

"Princess Adelaide had the same wild days."

"Me?"

"That is true, but for the people to endure a second potential heir with the same disregard of propriety tells the people that the royal family does not consider their comfort.

"

I

caused destruction back in the day."

"Yeah, yeah, so did I. Do you want a medal for having a bad temper?" Vox scowled.

"Be it as it may," Carmilla gritted out. "That was in the past. We have a new cohort of Sinners now, ones who were not privy to any of your destructive urges and

they

are tired of Prince Dion's antics."

Alastor resisted the urge to rub his face. Carmilla was right. If the Sinners were up in arms, then so would the Hellborn. They would just be quieter about it. The Imps and Hellhounds have endured equal abuse from the Ars Goetia but the Ars Goetia were not accustomed to being put upon by a social superior. There would be trouble, if not sooner than later.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." Alastor tried to be gracious as per his station. "I will bring this to the Queen's attention and we will talk to Dion." He was hoping that it didn't come to this but Dion's exploits reaching the news needed to be addressed.

"Excellent. I believe that's the end of our urgent concerns. Please reach out if you need further assistance with any of these."

Alastor stood at the same time as Carmilla. Rosie and Vox followed with the latter brushing his clothes as if dusting the palace off his body.

"Rosie, if you're able to stay, I have..." Alastor turned to Stippens who mouthed

thirty

at him. "Half an hour. We can offer you a car back to the city."

"Aw sure, I can stay." She waved off Carmilla and Vox and Stippens went to escort them out the palace.

"Your Grace, do I have your leave?" Adelaide stood at perfect attention.

"You're dismissed. Tell Sabnock that we'll see him after luncheon."

"Grand Duke. Overlord Rosie." Adelaide saluted in perfect parade ground manner and marched out the door.

"She's certainly changed," said Rosie.

"Very much for the better. Let's take a walk." Alastor held out his elbow. They took a different route out of the palace, aiming for the garden exit through a side parlour.

"You're keeping your hair short, I see. Shame. I missed the bob."

Alastor gave her a little smile. "The bob was for a different man."

Rosie studied his face, also with a small smile on her mouth. She turned to Nelphus about twenty feet behind them. "Get over here, I want to ask you a few things."

Sighing, Alastor didn't protest as his valet jogged up to walk beside them. "Overlord," Nelphus murmured diffidently.

"Now I'm asking you because he won't tell me. How's he sleeping these days?"

Nelphus' eyes twitched. "He...sleeps."

"Uh-huh. And he eats as well?"

Looking relieved at such an easy question, Nelphus nodded. "That's right. His Grace certainly eats, and he eats well."

"And my nose is cool and dry, I've got my regular flea drops and I haven't been scratching the furniture. Really, Rosie, stop bullying my staff."

"Oh you. Just one more question.

What

does he eat?"

"His Grace has regular meals, I see to that."

"So just regular meals, hmm?" Rosie eyed him. "Alastor you need to come by the emporium. I know what you like."

Alastor gave her a bland smile. "It dosen't matter. Everything tastes the same these days."

"Tsk. Alastor. It's been two centuries."

Alastor pretended not to notice the constricted look on Nelphus' face as he hurriedly backtracked to resume his twenty foot distance.

"Has it only been two centuries? It seems longer."

Rosie patted his hand. They walked on the well maintained lawn, a green of soft clover rather than grass, a soft carpet of springy ground cover. It was better for the bees that lived on the estate, young Prince Hector's personal project a few years ago. He'd since moved on to building complicated trebuchets in the back gardens and Alastor hoped that he'll move on from that soon. The bees were now cared for by the groundskeepers and Alastor had it on the best authority that they produced lovely clover honey.

"Yes, it's been two centuries." Rosie's voice was gentle. Alastor would have hated it from anybody else but one of his oldest friends in Hell.

They walked in silence for a moment, Alastor's head bowed. "My meeting is with Charlie. Would you like to pay your respects? I'm having luncheon with the family after. You're welcome to join if you don't mind the wait."

"Of course I don't and it would be my pleasure. Now I haven't been here for a while. You need to show me what's new."

Alastor looked up, blinking. "I don't come down often enough to see what's new." He knew he made a mistake when he saw Rosie frown. He wouldn't be surprised if a daily walk was discretely entered into his routine.

"Sounds like we have an opportunity to do a little bit of exploring then. Show me those roses over there."

"It would be my pleasure to."

Patting her hand, Alastor led the way.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Michael filled his wings with sky and beat them soundly, soaring high above the golden clouds.

It was quite up here, far from the entirely too cheerful metropolis that was Heaven. Up here, he only had the chill air and vast expanse of clouds for company. He could think up here, where there were no other thoughts to distract him. Here he could consider the ever present issue of Hell. The Virtues were looking to him for an answer.

What did his siblings expect him to do? Destroy Hell? It was an absurd proposition. It was well established that Hell was a necessary part of the order of their universe. Destroying all of Hell would be a folly of the highest order, and all for what? A few measly rumours?

Considering how contact between Heaven and Hell had been non-existent for the past two centuries, Michael was wont to question the origins of these rumours.

He tucked his wings in and spun in the air before entering a steep dive. The wind whipped at his clothing and hair and he felt alive. His blood sang in his ears as the wind pressed against his chest.

Here in the sky, he was one with the wind. Snapping his wings out, he soared again. Michael could spend hours up here. He wasn't even Michael here. There was no responsibility, no expectations. He could just fly.

Something caught his eye, a flash of something reflective in the lower clouds. A heartbeat passed and there it went again. He sighed. It was time to be Michael again. Rather than diving down, he made a wind curving descent, gracefully gliding towards Gabriel.

His brother hovered in the air, his wings beating lazily. "Don't shoot the messenger," he called out when Michael got closer.

"Aren't you tired of that joke?" Michael came to a stop, beating his wings beside Gabriel.

"No reason to be." Gabriel smiled, the wind playing with his curls. "The others want to speak with you."

"Of course they do."

"Don't shoot the messenger," Gabriel said again.

"I wasn't going to shoot you."

"You had this look on your face. There it goes again."

Michael took in a lungful of bracing air. "I am not going to shoot you. Or stab you. That has never happened. What do the others wish to speak to me about."

"I think that you already know."

Michael schooled his features. "Very well then. Let us go."

They flew like a pair of shooting stars across the sky, glittering like they shed flecks of light as they went by. They flew first over clouds, then over Heaven's tall spires, both equally matched for speed. They made no attempt to talk as they flew, Gabriel because he had already passed on his message, Michael because he was turning the message over in his head, and the more he did so, the more he felt the fury grow within him, a fury that he was worth to bank. He knew he was going to need it.

They landed near the centre of the city, on the landing of a spire more impressive than others, and together they walked shoulder to shoulder into a hallway lined with golden marble. Directly ahead of them was a set of doors lined with gleaming mother of pearl.

"Just so you know," Gabriel said softly. "I'm on your side."

"You're only saying that because you don't want to be shot."

"Look, it's a saying on Earth for a reason."

"Yes," said Michael in an even tone. "Because messengers get shot. After you."

Gabriel sighed as he pushed the doors open. "Oh look, here's everyone." He went to find his seat at the table.

Michael paused at the door, scanning the room. Gabriel sat at his customary place beside Michael's chair. Uriel was opposite him, perusing some notes. Raphael sat beside them, a large mug of coffee in front of him. He looked serene, which meant that he already had three mugs this morning. Phanuel and Jeremiel sat between Uriel and Gabriel. Phanuel who oversaw the repentance of mortal souls and Jeremiel the judge of souls.

Michael stalked into the room, aware of eyes upon him. He took his seat and clasped his hands before him on the table. He spoke.

"Are we to gather in the face of rumours? Are we to raise arms because there are those who desire chaos and ruin with loose words?"

Jeremiel shifted her weight. "Straight to the heart of the matter as always. Very well. We don't want another Lucifer to rise against Heaven. We need to decide on an action and take charge of the situation."

"We never had a Lucifer in the first place. Hell responded to

our

aggression, our

unfounded

advances against a child's boogeyman that only existed in our imagination. It has been two centuries and we have yet to discover the means of Samael's death, and you want to bring forth fire and brimstone once more?" Michael found that he had jumped to his feet, his chair clattering behind him. There was a crack on the table where his fist had impacted, the crack lengthening down the table.

Raphael calmly removed his mug before the table broke apart. "As much as I enjoy this display of righteous fury, we cannot ignore that there are once again rumours." He took a sip then continued. "Rumours of gathering of forces, of the Radio Demon raising

his

legions."

"And much like before, our seers cannot see any hint of this new rebellion," said Michael.

Phanuel looked at the split table with some disquiet. "Indeed not," he murmured. "Even as the souls of Sinner demons are out of my purview." He looked up at Michael. "You know very well that all leads to Lucifer's death vanished like morning mist. And it is Lucifer, yes, Michael?"

"Was that not what I said? Nevertheless, as Taxiarch of the Hosts, we do not have the numbers for another all out war. I cannot see how Hell is not in the same situation."

Gabriel raised his hands. "We're all very worried, and very stressed. This is a worrisome situation." He paused, tapping his fingers on the marble surface of the cracked table. "Sloppy," he said. "Very sloppy work."

"Excuse me, brother?" Uriel spoke for the first time.

"If rumours made us act the first time, then rumours will make us act once more. Tried and true methods."

Jeremiel leaned forward. "You are suggesting that these rumours are...manufactured?"

"I have no proof, but the signature seems alike." Gabriel spread his hands. "Naturally my first suspect would be Michael-"

"Excuse me?"

Gabriel held up his hands in peace and continued, "Out of all of us, Michael would be the foremost to push for outright war. Yet here he is, actively fighting against that."

"Rumour would be your purview, Gabriel." Raphael took another sip. "And Phanuel would be most out of sorts if further Sinners redeemed themselves into Heaven."

"Now, see, I don't make mistakes with mortal souls."

"Jeremiel's judgement would also be called to question. If a Sinner can be redeemed then there is more good in their soul than rot."

"Please, to the point, Raphael."

"The point is, we all have a motive for wanting a war with Hell."

"Even you, Raphael?"

Raphael shrugged. "Dig deep enough and you will find the root cause of all afflictions. The question I post now is, Michael, as Taxiarch, what do you intend to do? You have sole leadership of the host. Where you go, we must follow."

Michael blinked. He had remained on his feet as he leaned over the broken table. He considered spending some power to repair it, but repair work had always been Samael's specialty.

"I...must meditate on my next steps."

Raphael nodded. "As you should."

"May I suggest that you meditate in the Sanctum?"

Eyes turned to Gabriel, who shrugged. "It was just a thought."

It may have been an off comment but Michael felt like a fist of ice grasped his heart. A random thought from Gabriel had all the weight of the world. The Messenger's duty was to deliver messages. A meditation in the Sanctum was no light matter. He straightened, tugging straight his gold embroidered tunic. "An excellent suggestion. I shall leave immediately."

Michael felt eyes on his back as he left and for the first time in ten thousand years wondered if he was going to be betrayed by one of his brothers.

*

The Sanctum was a short flight away, but the location itself felt like it was an isolated part of the city. He landed on the wide steps and took the stairs by foot. Michael's body felt heavy with each step he took upwards. Perhaps this was a taste of mortality. He had never felt less than when he was climbing up the high stairs. Perhaps this was what waited for him at the end of everything.

Each step was a struggle, each step heavier than the last. The last ten were the worst as he fell to his hands and knees and crawled like a supplicant. It took all his strength to reach the top landing, pulling himself physically before collapsing on the landing, breathing heavily. His wings were flattened on either side of him. Michael tried to lift himself off the hard granite but he grunted as forces pushed him to the floor. He did not hate attending the Sanctum. Michael truly didn't hate anything. He just avoided it unless necessary. He spent centuries avoiding this.

Michael crawled. He pulled himself hand over hand over the floor, dragging his body over the smooth polished surface. It hurt. Michael never felt pain, but this hurt. It was a strain on his fingers to find a gap in the flagstones and use that faint traction to move his body. It took an age, or what felt like an age, to arrive at the open doorway. There was no one there but Michael felt a presence in the moment he pulled himself past the doors. It was tranquil within, with soft flames in oil lamps illuminating the walls. The room within wasn't large and bar the lamps, had no decoration. There was only the veil that separated the outer chamber from the inner. It was woven out of heavy silks. This was no gossamer material.

There was a large rent in the centre of the veil.

The presence Michael felt was beyond the veil.

He crawled his way to prostrate himself before the veil and rested his forehead on the cool granite.

There was a dampness on his face that he couldn't identify. His once trim nails were ragged and torn in some places. Michael hoped that he didn't ruin the sanctity by bleeding over the temple.

Time didn't matter here. Michael opened his heart and cleared his thoughts. What happened happened. He was here to accept the voice of Creation.

"My son."

The voice came from behind the veil. He heard the heavy fabric whisper as it was pushed aside. Light steps approached him. There was a light touch on his shoulder.

With that touch, Michael found himself climbing to his feet. Before him was an angel dressed in the simplest of robes. They had no wings and their eyes were gleaming black orbs where galaxies danced.

"Metatron." Michael bowed. The Voice of the Creator.

"No, none of that. We are all equal creations. You seek a path?" The Metatron drew his arm through theirs, leading Michael to a bench that wasn't there previously. There was a glass flagon of cool water and a plate of dates and figs. Michael accepted the glass and sipped. A date was placed at his lips and he ate. It was like he never struggled to reach this place. "Now, what is the heart of your question?"

How do I prevent war?

That was not the right question. Michael opened his mouth but his tongue felt like lead and refused to move. He closed his mouth and tried again. Again the question would not come out. He tried twice more before clamping his mouth shut.

"Take your time. This is eternity. You have as long as you need."

Michael was going to kill Gabriel.

He closed his eyes, seeking out the heart. No. Of course he didn't want to prevent war. It was unnecessary. War was only a side effect of what was truly occurring.

I need to know why the Morningstar family is being targeted.

This too was not the right question. It felt close, however, close enough that Michael closed his eyes, accepting the inevitability.

"How do I protect Samael's family?"

The Metatron inclined their head. "I am proud of you, Michael. You admitted the truth to yourself and that is a difficult thing to do even at the best of times."

"I could have saved him."

"Perhaps. That is not for me to say. Samael has already been punished. His death was unnecessary and avoidable."

"He still has enemies and I fear that his daughter is a target."

Metatron considered this. "She and her queen consort are innocent of Samael's crimes. Their children as well. There should be no reason why Heaven would target them more than what has already been done."

Michael took a breath. "What is my path?"

"I think you already know that. My question is, how far will you go?"

"How far

do

I need to go?"

A small smile graced the Metatron's lips. "That is for you to answer."

"I think..." Michael paused, the words a struggle to get out. "I think I need to go to Hell." The weight of that admission settled in his core, creating a roiling sense of disquiet even as he knew that was the right choice.

"You are Michael of the hosts. There is no door that is closed to you. I will offer you this advice, however. All you need to ensure that you can protect your brother's family is to listen."

"Listen? To whom?"

Michael blinked and he was no longer in the outer chamber of the Sanctum. His wings batted in the sky above the golden city, almost as if he had never gone through the whole ordeal of the steps. He looked at his pristine hands with the well maintained nails and blinked. He dropped them, spinning to go back to the Virtue's conference room. There was much he had to discuss with his siblings.

*

Michael's announcement was met with silence. Jeremiel leaned forward, the expression on her face drawn back to reveal wide eyes and clenched teeth.

"You are abandoning us for Hell?"

"Of course he's not saying that." Raphael put down his mug, the brew within steaming and near full, meaning this was his fifth mug. He eyed Michael with his clear green eyes. "He's saying that the answer he's looking for is not here."

"This is Heaven. All the answers of Creation are found here."

"And yet, sister, all that's to be found are rumours. Even little Sera has paid for those rumours." Gabriel leaned back in his seat. "And don't worry about Michael. I'm going with him."

"No. Absolutely not." Phanuel rose to his feet. "We are not losing either of you to this folly."

"Are you saying, Phanuel, that you are wiser than the Metatron?" The words came out in an even tone, but Phanuel went pale.

"Michael, no. I'm not saying that." Phaneul's eyes went down to the sword at Michael's belt, then snapped back at Michael's face. "Please don't put words in my mouth."

"Not if you wish to put words in the Metatron's."

"I think, Michael, that Phanuel is more concerned about our safety if we were to go down together, which is absurd because we're to observe for the mustering of Hell's legions, are we not? All the better for me to join you. I am the fastest of all of us. Besides, you need someone there to help rein in your temper."

"I don't have a temper."

Uriel dusted off marble dust from their sleeve. "Of course not." He paused. "So. You intend to go down there, tour the facilities a bit, and return to confirm the existence of a coming war. That is all?" Uriel's yellow eyes pierced through him.

Michael closed his eyes briefly. "No. That is not all there is."

"Samael would not thank you for interfering in his business," Uriel said, their voice gentle.

"Samael is too dead to protest." Michael's voice was dry. "I will find out what was the cause of Samael's death."

Jeremiel shook her head. "Michael, you are not the only one who mourns our brother."

"Then say his name."

She gave a sad smile. "No, I don't think I can."

"Then think about this. Samael is dead and he had been the most powerful of us. Whatever killed him can kill anyone of us. Do not think that you are immune to the type of power they aimed at him. If you cannot think of our brother fondly, then think of your own thin skin and how easily golden blood can be drawn from it."

Raphael gave him an even look. "Drawing blood is easy. Anyone of us can wield a weapon with intent to harm. The ability to kill, that's different and beyond the point. What you need is the ability to look past the instinct to see everything as a threat. If we could find him, I would recommend we send Raguel in your place. He at least knows the difference between a smoking gun and an actual threat."

"I shall endeavour to keep in mind what would Raguel do."

"That, or find him. Now that's a thought. Jeremiel, Raguel is your twin. You'd know best where he is." Raphael held his mug in both hands to take a sip. "You should locate him while Michael and Gabriel have their mission."

Jeremiel looked at her hands before looking up. "That is a good idea. I'm not sure that he's ready to be found, however."

"He's the Archangel of Justice, not the Archangel of sneaking around doing sneaky stuff," said Gabriel. "Out of all of us, you will find him."

Michael cast a glance at Gabriel then looked away lest he attract the attention of the Messenger again. One trip to the Sanctum was enough to last a century.

Jeremiel blinked. "Yes. Of course. I...will start right away."

Gabriel got to his feet also. "And Michael and I should be going."

The others stood also. As Michael looked at them, he felt a pang in his soul, like this was something final.

Very well.

"Yes," he said. "We should be going." He nodded and turned on his heel. There was no need for farewells. He would see them all again.

*

Their arrival in the streets of Pentagram City caused a near panic.

Sinners were a capricious lot by nature but this went beyond the pale.

They had arrived as per normal by opening a portal and flying through. From there, they landed in front of the Heaven Embassy, and that was when there was panic and screaming and now they were all alone on an empty street.

Gabriel whistled. "That took ten seconds flat. I'm impressed."

Michael was not amused. "If there's no explanation within the next five minutes, I'm going to find someone and shake them."

"Is that what Raguel would do?"

Closing his eyes briefly was much better than shaking his brother. At the very least, it meant he didn't sake Gabriel right then and there.

"No. You are right. Raguel would not shake answers out of people." Michael shifted his weight to his back foot and crossed his arms. "Michael on the other hand is not in the habit of seeking out answers."

"So you're just going to stand there until answers come marching up to you? That's-" Gabriel stopped mid sentence and turned. Up the street came the sound of marching boots. "-not how it works. Well shoot."

The small company that marched up were dressed in smart military coats that were bright with gold buttons and braids. They didn't look like any run of the mill militia but looked very official. They were also very well armed. Demons of all sizes and backgrounds marched and kept pace with each other, an admirable feat. Weapons were not out, but there was an impression that could change at any moment.

Michael waited until they drew near and came to a halt with a command from their officer, a tall demon with a long golden braid. He stepped forward, keeping Gabriel at his back.

"I am Michael, Prince of the Host. This is Prince Gabriel, the Messenger. I wish to speak with Queen Charlotte."

The officer stepped forward, saluted, and removed her tall crested helmet. It was almost like looking into the mirror. If not for her colouring, Michael would have said that this was Charlotte. Behind him, he heard Gabriel shift his weight then stilled.

"I am Princess Adelaide, eldest child of Queen Charlotte and Queen Vagatha." Adelaide looked very young to Michael's eyes. She had to be less than two centuries in age, younger than her mother when Charlotte became queen. Her jaw was set in a determined manner for all her youth and Michael knew that she would give her all to her cause. How like Samael she was. Something flickered in her eye and her glare became flinty. "Do you come in peace? You are not here to begin the Exterminations again?"

"No, we are neither here to commence the Exterminations again. My brother and I come in peace. I will not raise my weapon unless in defence. I promise this."

Adelaide blinked as if comprehending the gravity of his promise. She narrowed her eyes. "What do you wish to discuss with the queen?"

"That will be a discussion for the queen and her consort alone."

A muscle rippled in Adelaide's jaw. Michael was strangely excited to see this young woman grow into a warrior and he hoped that he would get that opportunity. She opened her mouth again, then closed it. Michael had the sense that she was going to repeat her query regarding his promise of peace. Good. She had discipline.

"Very well." She flicked her eyes between Gabriel and him. "Our vehicle can only fit ten. Do I have your word that if you fly above us that you will only follow us to the palace?"

"You have my word," Michael promised.

"And mine," said Gabriel.

Adelaide paused then held out a hand. "Make a deal with me. Promise that until you meet with the queen, you will follow only our vehicle as we return to the palace."

Michael looked at the outstretched hand then back up into her pink eyes. "Is the honoured word of a Prince of Heaven not good enough for a Princess of Hell?" Just because he liked her didn't mean that he was going to take things easy on her.

Adelaide licked her lips but her hand didn't waver. Michael could see in her eyes that she knew exactly who he was and that she was no equal to him if matched strength for strength. He could see that she was standing fast despite her growing consternation.

Good.

"If you break your word, then all you would be known for is a liar, but I am responsible for the people on this ring and I will not have their deaths on my conscience if I could prevent it."

Very good.

Michael smiled. "I would be proud to call you my niece. It's a deal." He took her hand.

Power flared around them as the deal was recognised and sealed. Long horns grew from Adelaide's brow and Michael felt his body lift in the air, his wings outstretched. The ground cracked beneath their feet as the very fabric of Hell itself bore witness to the deal.

It was over as soon as it started and Michael released their hands. Adelaide stumbled back, clutching her head, blinking rapidly. Behind her, a slim Imp steadied her by gripping her elbow, his orange eyes hard and calculating as he watched the Archangels. He was older and Michael marked him as the sergeant of the company if Adelaide was the officer.

"All right, lieutenant?"

"All right, sergeant."

Satisfied when Adelaide gained her balance, he stepped back in line with his squad, who had not broken ranks.

"If there is nothing else, we will take to the skies now."

Adelaide nodded, still looking somewhat pale, she saluted and turned away as Michael and Gabriel took flight. "Gran-pær is going to kill me," she murmured, not realising how keen Michael's hearing was.

"Nah," said the sergeant. "Just a light mauling."

That was the last that Michael heard as the sky created a distance between them.

"That was a risk," Gabriel said, speaking for the first time.

"Perhaps. I wanted to push her."

"Well yes, that much was obvious." He paused. "They're scared of us for some reason. I mean, beyond the obvious." The obvious being angels of creation far beyond their comprehension.

Michael shrugged, his winter sky-blue eyes on Adelaide's van. "A mystery indeed."

They flew under the pentagram in the sky, two bright dots that could be tracked easily from the ground. Michael knew they stood out against the red sky and while he was made to stand out with his gold tipped wings, Gabriel's wings were banded with blue and grey. He was meant to blend into the sky until the last possible moment. Still, despite Michael's mild apprehension, they weren't assaulted in the sky. They easily tracked the route of the van as it drove out of the city and followed it over the mountain pass that led straight to the palace. The air never wavered from a dry heat, a truly unpleasant experience, the cool drink the Metatron offered him now a faint memory.

They followed the road for ten more minutes before they came across the sight of the palace. The first view of the palace was one of white, of expansive wings and high columns. The next was green gardens, of topiary and hedgerows.

The van paused at the front gates before being allowed through and driving up the long driveway to the front of the palace.

Michael noted that there was a welcoming committee.

He counted twenty guards in the same colours that Adelaide and her men wore, black tunics with gold trim and white trousers. At the fore of the committee were two demons, one was a broad Goetia with lion's head and mane, dressed in a more elaborate version of the guard uniform, and the other was the Grand Duke.

Michael could see even from this distance that he had changed. His hair was short and his clothes were black and sombre where once Michael knew he was in flamboyant red.

"Ohhh someone's getting a talking to. I wonder what that's about."

Indeed, as Gabriel noted, Adelaide stood before the Grand Duke and the Goetia who was probably the guard captain and her head was bowed even though neither of them appeared to be very much worked up. They spoke for a few more moments, Adelaide's company lined up beside their van, before all three faces looked up at Michael and Gabriel's direction.

"There's our sign- Hey!"

Michael had been waiting for it. He went into a dive as soon as their presence was noted and he sped down towards the ground at an impossible velocity. Gabriel might be faster than him, but Michael had the advantage of his fine reflexes. The ground sped upwards. He saw demons leaping out of the way, and then he snapped out his wings and landed on his feet without slowing the speed of his descent. His landing caused a small shockwave that many demons flinched from. Many demons, except for the Grand Duke Alastor. He stood ramrod straight, his hands neatly folded over his cane, his features betraying only mild annoyance as the other demons around them scrambled to find their composure.

Princess Adelaide coughed in the dust raised by Michael's landing.

"I am Prince Michael."

Alastor inclined his head. "Yes, I remember you." Something twitched in his red eyes before he lifted them to scan the sky overhead, tracking Gabriel's more sensible descent before snapping back to Michael. "Lieutenant Morningstar has reported that she has made a deal with you. Kindly remove the deal that you have with her."

"I cannot. The deal requirements have not been met. I have yet to speak with Queen Charlotte."

Alastor tapped the teardrop shaped head of his cane. "Hmm. Very well." Gabriel landed then, tucking his wings close to his body. "Prince Gabriel? We have not had the pleasure of meeting. I am Alastor, the Grand Duke."

Gabriel grinned, all lively lightheartedness. "A pleasure to finally meet you. I must say, I like what you've done with the place. It must be the work of a minute to maintain the gardens. Very admirable."

"Yes, Lucifer worked hard to create the gardens for Charlie's children. He wanted them to have just a slice of paradise."

"Oh. I didn't know that."

Alastor gave Adelaide an indulgent smile. "Your grandfather wished many things for you and your siblings. He knew you were coming."

"Did he also know he would never meet them?" It was in Michael's nature to prod, to find a weakness.

Alastor's smile disappeared. "The queens are waiting. We must not let them wait longer." He turned on his heel and went into the palace, not waiting to see if they would follow. Michael didn't hesitate to keep pace with the Grand Duke. He could hear behind him Gabriel striking up a conversation with the guard captain and Adelaide but as he drew closer to Alastor, he was struck by the impression that something was wrong. Something was silent about him, and that was it. The air around him was still and silent. That was when Michael noticed the gold band that was still on Alastor's finger.

"Might one ask as to the nature of your visit?"

"You may, but that is best discussed first with their majesties. I don't wish to muddy the waters more than they already are."

"Of course."

"May I ask why the lieutenant was being admonished?"

"Ah, you saw that. Adelaide was meant to discuss her next step with Captain Sabnock and myself. Instead she took it upon herself to go chase rumours in the city. This was done without leave from the queens, myself or the captain."

"Then it was by chance that she came upon us."

"Chance. A curious word. I don't put stock in chance though it seems that's what happened here. Curious that you have chosen to pay your visit at such a time, though. Very curious."

"What do you mean by that?"

"That is best discussed with the queens."

Alastor led the way first up the grand staircase, then through the elaborately ornamented hallways of the palace. Michael had no trouble keeping up with Alastor's long strides and it was clear to Michael that they weren't going to a throne room. That would be on a lower level. The portraits on the walls were that of family. There were portraits of Samael and his daughters. Samael and Alastor. Then Charlotte and Vagatha with their children and Alastor. Alastor and the children, either singular or as a group. Alastor didn't look at them, but Michael did. They may have been part of the background for Alastor, but to Michael they were a glimpse into the lives of Samael's family. There was a pang in his heart that he was not prepared for, a sort of longing for a life that was not his lot. It was a fleeting feeling and Michael paid it no mind.

It didn't not escape Michael's notice that they were being followed by a neatly dressed Goetia with a long beak. He kept a diffident distance about ten feet back but he noticed Michael looking at him and he hurried to them.

"May I assist your highness?"

"Who are you?"

"Ah! I'm Nelphus. I'm his grace's personal valet. Can I offer you or Prince Gabriel anything? I'll ring ahead and prepare."

Michael was about to shake his head when he found himself saying, "Cool water."

"Easily done, your highness. Your grace." Nelphus dropped back, pulling out a device and speaking into it softly.

"Efficient," Michael murmured.

"Yes, I pride myself in having efficient staff serve the family."

"I see that."

And that was the end of small talk for a while. They rounded a few corners and then they were there. It was a door like any other that they'd passed in the palace, if you didn't count the guards standing at either side of the door.

"I hope you'll forgive the casual setting. Charlie wanted to give you a more familiar welcome." Alastor paused. "Is it worth my breath to ask you to remove your weapon before you entered"

"It's not. My sword comes with me. I have promised to not draw it unless in defence."

"Very well." That seemed enough for him. Alastor nodded at the guards and one reached over to open the door.

Within was a comfortable, if richly appointed, sitting room. There was a large sitting area with well padded sofas with wooden side tables in deeply coloured woods of all varieties. A large set of glass doors were thrown open, letting in the dry breeze that seemed less heated than outside and gossamer window drapery danced on the wind. There were books with well worn spines on the walls, several game sets on the shelves and a chess game in progress on a low table to the side.  There was a mini grand piano against the wall. It was a very lived-in room and it was clear that Charlotte, Vagatha and their family spent a lot of time in here.

Charlotte, herself, sprang to her feet as they entered, Alastor gesturing to Michael and Gabriel go before him. Vagatha stood a little slower, caution in her eye.

"Oh!" Charlotte exclaimed. "You look so much like Dad! Doesn't he look like Dad, Alastor?"

No one saw Alastor's stricken expression when Charlie made the comparison, and nothing could have prepared Michael from the large hug she wrapped him in. Michael was not the hugging type. No one looked at Michael and said "Yes, that's the guy I want to greet with exuberance, put it there, fella!" Michael was even less prepared to be picked up by his much taller niece and crushed even more against her chest.

A sound escaped from Gabriel. It might have been a giggle. He was going to shoot him. He was going to find a gun and shoot his brother.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I'm just so glad to see you again." Charlotte put him down on his feet, then spotted Gabriel. "Hello!"

It was to Michael's deep pleasure that Gabriel, closer to Charlotte's height than Michael, was also picked up and given a crushing hug.

"I'm so glad to meet you!"

"The pleasure....is likewise..." Gabriel wheezed out. He was released after five seconds and sagged with relief. Charlotte sighed happily then spotted Alastor and approached with her arms wide.

"Step father!"

Alastor laid both hands on her arms, stopping her. "Charlie, we met two hours ago at lunch."

"I'm sorry, I just got so caught up. It's so good to see you again, Uncle. I can call you Uncle, right? Our last meeting wasn't very fortuitous, but you're here now. Please sit!"

"Queen Vagatha," Michael inclined his head.

"Prince Michael," replied Vagatha in turn, still reserved and cautious. This was where Adelaide got her caution from.

"And yes, you may call me uncle." Michael was amused to see Vagatha's scowl deepen. He may not have anything personally against her, but he would not forget that she had once been an Exorcist.

"Can I call you uncle too, Prince Gabriel?"

Gabriel wheezed, still recovering. "Would be my honour."

"Please, sit! We're all family here." Charlotte threw herself into her sofa with Vagatha beside her. Alastor sat in an armchair, crossing his legs and cradling his cane in his arm. Michael sat opposite Charlotte with Gabriel sharing the sofa with him. Adelaide made her way to Charlotte's left where she sat opposite Alastor in her own arm chair.

"One moment please." Michael turned to Adelaide. "The conditions of our deal have been met?"

She nodded. "Yes." With that, the tendrils of power that bound them were released.

Charlotte eyed them with narrowed eyes. "We will discuss this later, Adelaide."

Adelaide sighed. "Yes, your majesty."

"Now that's out of the way," said Gabriel. "We can get down to business."

"Yes, why exactly are you here?" Queen Consort Vagatha leaned forward. "I can tell that this is far from a social visit."

"Vaggie, is it necessary to get straight to the point like that?"

"Yeah, I think it is."

"It is a task of some urgency," Michael said.

"Indeed. We have heard word in Heaven that the legions of Hell are en massing. We are here to make sure that those are only rumours," Gabriel added.

"That is preposterous." Alastor leaned forward, his red eyes gleaming. "There is no gathering of Hell's legions. We have rumours of Heaven, too. We have heard that you are renewing the Exterminations. This was why Adelaide was in the city, she was tracking down the source of that rumour."

"That explains the reception we received," said Michael.

"What an interesting set of rumours," Gabriel murmured. "It almost seems that someone wants us to raise arms against each other once more.

"Nevertheless," said Michael. "I must lay to rest the rumour that you are raising your armies once more. I will need something solid to confirm that those rumours are just rumours."

Charlotte blinked. Michael couldn't put a finger on it, but there was now a low undercurrent of tension in the room. "What of our assurance that rumours are just rumours? Do I have your word that Heaven is not also considering war with Hell?"

"You have my word as Prince of the Host," said Michael. "There is no force that gathers without my notice."

Michael would later wonder what possessed Gabriel to say his next words. Prophecy was a tricky thing with Gabriel. It was intertwined into his very being. This was part and parcel of his domain. He spoke prophecy like a casual comment on the weather and he interpreted prophecy as spoken by prophets.

"With all this mistrust between us, I would suggest an alliance. It seems that we have a common enemy who seeks the destruction of Hell. There is no greater binding, no greater trust, than that of spousal vows," said Gabriel.

Michael blinked, trying to parse the meaning behind his brother's words when Alastor suddenly got to his feet, pounding his fist on the low table between them.

"I knew it," he hissed. "I knew it the moment Adelaide told me you struck a bargain with her. You want to ruin his grandchildren like you ruined him. Well, I won't let it happen. I won't let it happen! They are too young for you and you will not ruin them. Take me instead."

Michael sprang up, not one to stand down from a challenge but Gabriel beat him to the response.

"An acceptable proposal," said Gabriel. "The Grand Duke and the Prince of the Host would make a strong match."

"Excuse me, what just happened?" said Vagatha, half rising from her seat.

His eyes wild, flashing back from red to black radio dials, his antlers looming overhead, Alastor poked Michael in the chest. "You may marry me but you will pry his ring off my cold dead hand."

Michael grinned. "But I will have you."

Only the Creator knew why he said that.

Michael did know one thing. He was going to shoot Gabriel.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur for Michael.He had the vague impression of Gabriel doing some fast talking trying to convince Queens Charlotte and Vagatha of the benefits of a marriage alliance. Both queens of Hell still looked uncertain. Michael didn't blame them. He was having second thoughts now. It was his indelible nature to rise and meet challenges and by the Sanctum did Alastor stand and make a challenge. Even Alastor was now standing stock still, the full realisation of his decision now fully sinking in. Adelaide was by his side, holding his arm as he trembled, his eyes wide like saucers.Queen Charlotte bit her lip. "Alastor, do you want to go through with this?" Back out back out back out back out. Michael could stand down if Alastor backed out. He could graciously cede the field. He could save the both of them from this if only he backed down. "It has to be me. It has to be me. There's no one else of appropriate rank." Alastor's eyes were unfocused as the words came tumbling out of his mouth in an almost mantra-like quality. "It has to be me."Michael bit out an oath in the privacy of his mind even as he admired Alastor for remaining firm in his decision."It doesn't have to be a marriage alliance," said Vagatha. "And it doesn't have to be completed today. Hell will honour whatever alliance we can agree to.""We have a common enemy, Queen Vagatha. We must maintain a united front.""And this alliance will give Prince Michael a legitimate excuse to stay in Hell, correct?""That is correct, Grand Duke."It also gave him the excuse to stay close to Samael's children. There was no better way to extend the umbrella of his protection over them. As far as he could go . Very well. This was his path. Gabriel's persuasion only sealed it. He was about to affirm his decision when Alastor spoke up."Charlie, I don't trust them to not withdraw. We need them to seal the deal.""Gran-pӕr, I can do this. You don't need to keep protecting me. I'm old enough.""Adelaide, you're so young. If you should marry, it should be for love, child. It should be for love." Alastor wiped her eye with a gentle hand.Michael nodded. "Even if there was an angel of rank new enough to be a suitable match for the princess, they would not have the authority of Heaven behind them. Not one of the Virtues will step down if not necessitated by the Metatron."Charlotte still looked worried and her consort had a look of narrow-eyed suspicion. Finally, Charlotte sighed. "I can see the benefits of a marriage. Very well, we can set the date for next month for the preparations-""Forgive me, Queen, it has to be today," said Gabriel. "This will keep our conspirators off balance and it will not give them time to escalate.""I agree," said Alastor, closing his eyes."That is tactically sound," said Michael, crossing his arms. "Queen Charlotte, will you officiate?""I would be honoured." Then her eyes flicked to Alastor. "The marriage contract!""I think we're good in that aspect, but..." Alastor summoned a thick bound volume and gave it to Adelaide. "Read through that and see if you can spot anything that will prevent this mar- this alliance.""We will need witnesses," said Vagatha."As we will. Do we have your permission to invite a few of our brethren?""Yes, of course." Charlotte rang for a servant. "____ will bring you to a suite where you can prepare. We will be in touch."Which was how Michael now found himself in a well appointed guest suite. There were two rooms, a sitting area and the bedroom to the side. He was sitting very still as Gabriel went back to Heaven to fetch Uriel and Rapahel, if they would come.If he moved, Michael felt that he would fall apart.He was still sitting in that position when his siblings arrived, entering through the open balcony doors in a flurry of feathers.Raphael was the first to stride through and with firm hands, drew him to his feet. "Are you aware of what a marriage is?"Michael blinked, not comprehending the question.Raphael changed tact. "Are you aware of basic reproductive anatomy?""What...what does that have to do with a marriage?""Oh no," said Gabriel."No, this is good. I've brought teaching material.""No, I am here to uncover the conspiracy against us. I'm not here to learn about sex.""Oh he knows about sex, that's good at least.""Okay, let me tell you about the basis of sex.""What? No congratulations? No, do you have the equipment you need to venture into battle, just let me teach you about sex? What do you know about sex, Raphael?""There are times when I am required to solve issues in human reproductive health," said Raphael, very slowly like he was speaking to a dullard. "Therefore, I am familiar with the parts that I was created with. I can create issues and simulations, and I can then whisper solutions to the appropriate researchers and physicians. I am well familiar with stimulating my parts either with or without a partner. "Michael gave his brother a helpless look. "Is that really necessary for me?"Gabriel tapped his chin. "Well, if you don't have sex, that means the marriage is not consummated, that means it's not legal and can be dissolved easily with a simple annulment."Uriel, the traitor, was leaning against the wall with their hands over their mouth as their shoulders shook."That would be counterproductive," agreed Michael. "Oh." He sank down to his sofa. "Not only do I need to marry Samael's widower, I need to be intimate with him.""It would not be a sin, Michael." Uriel had recovered from their unfortunate fit. "You will be married. It will be correct in the eyes of the Creator.""Unless you're concerned about the impropriety of marrying our brother's widower?" Raphael suggested. "There's no impropriety. That's what humans did in the early days. If a woman's husband passes, the next oldest of his brothers will marry her.""I don't think that the Grand Duke of Hell is a woman in need of a social protector," said Michael in the driest of tones."So what are your reservations? Is it because he's a Sinner and a demon? Even if you recuse yourself, there are three of us here in agreement and that's the majority vote to waive the usual sanctions. We need you to be strong, sturdy and willing in just a few hours." Gabriel sat himself on the low table in front of Michael.Michael chose his words carefully. "It has never been...necessary for me to know or need to want...intimacy with another person. Nor has it been necessary for me to be familiar with my own sex.""Oh no," said Uriel.Gabriel turned to Raphael. "All this time we thought he was celibate out of duty and he's just asexual. This one's yours.""Excellent. Shove off." Raphael placed a small stand on the vacated table and a series of charts on it. "Do we know which organs the Grand Duke possesses? No? Very well, let's start with the default typical female organs and we'll go from there."*Alastor was not having a good time. He wiped his mouth and flushed the commode, feeling the cool porcelain against his forehead and sour bile in his mouth."Gran-pӕr?""I'm fine," he rasped out. "Is there anything in that contract?""Not anything that I can find. What is this anyway?""The original marriage contract Lucifer offered me, plus annotations and changes.""It's...really thick, gran-pӕr.""Just skim through it. We cannot let this document be the reason why this alliance is dissolved." Alastor sat back on his heels, tugging free his cravat. The black diamond pin in the tie tumbled loose and hit the tiled floors with a slight ting but Alastor rescued it and tucked it into his cufflink for safe keeping. He looked at his black enamelled cufflink and felt a pang in his heart. "Is Nelphus there?""I'm here, Your Grace. I'm stuck between the silk satin brocade or the silk taffeta brocade."Alastor closed his eyes. "Can you locate the small box on the top right shelf, in the far back corner? I'm after the gold cufflinks.""Gold? Really?"Climbing to his feet, he washed his mouth and face before exiting his bath. His normally organised bed chamber beyond was a whirlwind of clothing. His suits lay on the bed, suitable ties were on the sofa where he read sometimes. Adelaide was perched on the blanket box at the foot of the bed, having made room by nudging some of his shoes out of the way. Nelphus had been swallowed up by the wardrobe with only his shuffling as a sign of life.Alastor leaned against the wall, and sighed. "None of these will do, Nelphus. It cannot be said that a prince of Heaven is marrying a corpse."Nelphus poked his head out. "You only have black suits, your grace.""And shirts?" Nelphus frowned in thought and ducked back in. He produced a crisp white shirt. Alastor couldn't think of when he last wore it. "That will do, I suppose. Are there any...red? Red bow ties?""Oh, just one!" This item was brought out and laid on the bed on top of the white shirt. "It should go well with your hair and your eyes.""Yes," said Alastor softly. "It would. Did you find the box?"Nelphus dug around in his pocket and found the small jewellery box. He popped open the lid. "Oh cute. Rubber ducks.""Let me see." Adelaide peered over Nelphus' arm. "Oh look at them.""They belonged to Lucifer. I took them from him on our first date.""You stole from granddad?""Flirted with. He found it charming. He liked a bit of sass." Alastor allowed himself to look at the square bezels with the engraved duckies for a moment before handing back to Nelphus. "I'll wear those.""Very good, your grace. And I think the tuxedo with the shawl lapels?"Alastor nodded. "Yes, very good."Nelphus paused before stepping closer and whispering, "I've also taken the liberty of adding prophylactics and urm, other things to the nightstand drawers.""I can hearrrr youuu," said Adelaide, having settled back and gone back to the contract.Alastor sighed. "Yes. Thank you. I would have forgotten."Charlie would take care of the ring. She intended to select something from the treasury. All there was left to do was sit and wait.Alastor was glad that there was nothing left in his stomach to throw up. He went over to his sofa and shoved some ties aside to make room for his lanky body. He sat and closed his eyes."Gran-pӕrr?""Yes, Adelaide?""You don't have to do this for me, or for Dion. We can protect ourselves.""Adelaide, if your grandfather was here, I wouldn't have to do any of this. He'd take care of any threat. But he's not here and now I must do my best. One day, I won't be here and I must trust that I will have taught and guided you enough for you to solve your own problems. Until then, I'm here."Alastor folded his hands in his lap and tried to think of nothing. There was only the whisper of cloth as Nelphus readied his outfit and the brush of paper on paper as Adelaide leafed through the contract. He wanted to do more than just sit still while the palace about them was a bustle of activity. Witnesses and guests were hurriedly invited, cars sent out to fetch them from the city and rooms prepared for those portalling in from other Rings. Even Adelaide had a task and that was to Keep Gran-pӕr Sane. Hell of a task for a young woman who was just crossing the line between adolescence and young adulthood."You never talk about granddad.""I find it very hard to speak about Lucifer, sha." Alastor opened his eyes to see Adelaide looking at him. "We were supposed to have more time.""Would he...have liked us? Me?""Oh, my child." Alastor sat up and reached for her hand. "He knew you were coming and he was so excited for you and your siblings. Lucifer had the plans for the palace extensions drawn up long before your mothers were even married and he redesigned the gardens just for all of you. He loved you even before he knew your names."Adelaide gave him a small smile. "You must have loved him so very much.""I did. I still do.""Gran-pӕr..."Alastor patted her hand. "There's nothing in the contract preventing this alliance, is there?""No. It even states clearly that you are free to marry after Lucifer's death and to keep your invested powers."Alastor took a deep breath. "Yes. Of course. He would have written that." His eyes lay on the book in her lap for a moment. "I'll need to tell you about our courtship when I can.""I'd like that, gran-pӕr.""Go find your siblings and make sure they understand what's happening. I'll be fine."Adelaide rose and left the room after planting a kiss on his cheek.Nelphus poked his head out of the closet. "Your grace?""Is it time to dress?""Yes, my lord.""All right."It felt like he was putting on his burial clothes. The collar felt too tight at the throat and the red bow tie looked like a bleeding wound. The soft satin shawl lapel did nothing to ease the severity of his look. Even his hair felt like a constricting band around his head.Nelphus looked over his shoulder at his reflection in the mirror, head tilted to the side."It's hopeless, isn't it?""Your grace! I was just thinking that you looked very distinguished.""You think so?""Yes! Just a little product in your hair, perhaps the ruby lens pince-nez. I think I have a red pocket watch chain and I can borrow my brother's red shoe buckles." He paused. "But I don't think the white shirt is quite you.""No. Perhaps the narrow pinstripe.""I think so too. You need a pin for your lapel.""I'll think about that. Go get the chain and the buckles."Nelphus checked his own pocket watch and then was out the door in a run.Alastor changed out of his clothes to not rumple the pressed cloth and pulled on his dressing gown. He was about to disappear into his closet when there was a knock on the outer door."Alastor? It's me.""Come in, Charlie."Charlie stepped in. Her hair was in curlers and a net, and she too was half dressed with fitted silk trousers under her own dressing gown. "Your guards said you were alone. I passed Nelphus flying down the backstairs.""We've decided that I need more accessories and I'm sorely lacking in anything that's not black.""Oh Alastor." Charlie held out her arms and sighing, Alastor bent into her embrace."I'm fine, Charlie." She looked up at his face, Lucifer's eyes staring out, studying him."Okay," she said, finally. "I'm here for you. Vaggie too. You know that, right?"Alastor gave her a faint smile. "I wouldn't dream of burdening you with my troubles.""Alastor!" She shook him a little. "You're family. You're the only thing I have as a father. Tell me you know you can lean on us like you let us lean on you."Alastor closed his eyes. "It's not that easy, Charlie." She pulled him close again, burying her face into his chest."I miss the old Alastor, sometimes.""He was fun, wasn't he?""He was happier."And what could he say to that?They stayed that way for a few heartbeats as Alastor rested his cheek against Charlie's mound of hair curlers. He pretended he didn't hear her soft sniffles. He pulled away after a moment, offering her his handkerchief. "Come now, there's nothing to cry over. The years haven't been all doom and gloom."Charlie wiped her face. "No." She smiled. "We're going to be fine, Alastor. All of us.""I kn-""Even you. I mean it. If this goes ass up, we're pulling you out of this alliance. You hear me? You, me, Vaggie, we'll think a way out of this.""I believe you."Charlie wiped her eyes again then laughed into the handkerchief. "Oh me. I meant to bring you a few presents and here I am crying.""I don't need-""Oh shut up and sit down." She pushed him onto his sofa and she lowered herself on the blanket Adelaide vacated. Digging into her pockets she pulled out a few small boxes. "This is from the Angelic delegation, they said it's from Michael but I can smell political fuckery a mile away." Charlie opened the box and revealed a pretty bauble on a gold chain. "They said it's a seed of creation, whatever that means. I had Stolas examine it for tracking spells and he thinks there's one, so you may want to leave off wearing it until you know Michael has the sole tracking unit. Then we'll give him something similar.""Quid pro quo?""Yes!""It is very pretty but it's not my style."Charlie giggled. "Right? Anyway, this is the ring you're giving Michael." The ring box she opened next had a plain platinum band inlaid with a ring of red flecked black meteorite around the centre."Oh.""It's the best I could do in such a short time frame. I already had the base ring and it didn't take much time to do the inlay.""Charlie, it's beautiful. I just thought you were going to find something in the vault.""I was! But then I realised the personal touch would be better."Alastor admired the band before returning the box. Charlie held on to his hand."You need something old." Something slipped across her hand then his, sliding out from under her sleeve and under his, wrapping around his wrist. Alastor felt his breath catch as he recognised Lucifer's snake. His hand trembled as he pulled back his cuff to look at the gold snake coiled against his skin, one white eye winking before they both closed. "I want Michael to know that Hell hasn't forgotten.""Oh fuck." The tears came flowing from his eyes like a dam had burst and that was how Nelphus found them when he came back panting and out of breath.*A few short hours later, Alastor found himself in front of Charlie's throne, standing across his groom. He tried all afternoon to not think about how much he resembled Lucifer. The blond hair was the same, as was the height and the slight build. Michael didn't smile, however. He remained stoic all through the ceremony. Alastor remembered Lucifer grinning wide and shark-like all throughout their own ceremony. A part of him was glad of that difference. Alastor wasn't sure what he'd do if Michael resembled Lucifer even more. Perish, perhaps.Alastor tried to pay attention to the ceremony, but he was all too aware of his hands being held by Michael, or was it he that held them? It was hard to tell.He was beginning to feel faint.Charlie had an elaborately romantic speech about love. Her eyes were shining and her smile wide without a hint of the hard look in her eyes when she passed the gold snake to him. Vaggie was by his side and Gabriel stood beside Michael. There was a flash of light, a reflection of light shining off bright metal and there was a ring in Michael's hand. No, he was wrong. The ring was a polished obsidian black with a single blue stone in the centre. There was something odd in the way the stone looked but Alastor didn't have time to examine it. Instead he took the ring Vaggie passed onto him.It was as secular a ceremony as could be managed between an Archangel, the Grand Duke of Hell and officiated by the Queen of Hell, but somehow it was managed. The rings were exchanged, Alastor watching keenly as Michael slid the ring on the finger of his right hand even as he offered his own right hand. Charlie tied a wide ribbon around their wrists, symbolically binding them."And the grooms may kiss each other!"Ah no. Alastor was wrong. This was where he would perish.There was something in Michael's eye as he raised a hand to Alastor's face and guided him downwards even as Michael raised himself on his toes to meet him partway. It was a chaste kiss they exchanged, a cool brushing of lips.Alastor had thought he'd throw up. He didn't expect to be disappointed that was all there was. It was probably just his imagination that Michael's hand lingered as he withdrew back, his blue eyes keen and considering as they looked up at him.There was a feast after. Of course there was. It was as elaborate as Charlie could have organised at such short notice. A blur of faces greeted him and his new husband as they were guided out of the throne room and into one of the ballrooms. It wasn't very large, just the long gallery, but Alastor was grateful for the intimate atmosphere. As the night went on, he realised that there were more faces that he found familiar than not. Rosie was there, seated opposite Raphael of all people, and it looked like she was having a merry time chatting his ear off. King Stolas of the Goetia and King Asmodeus of the Lust Ring had their heads together, their hands clasped in the other. As he looked around, he groaned."Oh no." Michael glanced at him. "Hmm?""Leviathan is talking to Gabriel. The Sin of Envy.""Oh." Alastor watched as Michael turned his head and then tried not to stare. "Is...she normally so...underdressed?""Yes, that's normal for her. Also, wait. Yes, there it is."Gabriel was picked up for the second time that day and crushed into a very warm hug. Michael observed Gabriel weakly struggling for a moment before turning away. "I'm sure he doesn't need help."They were alone at the top table, looking down the length of the banquet table. The meal hadn't been served yet, it was more of a time for socialization. He and Michael were afforded a moment of privacy as they shared a drink together. Michael sipped from his cut crystal glass, his eyes keen as he scanned the room from under narrowed lids. Alastor drank sparingly from his Sazerac. They both stood close, and yet were a million miles away. Alastor knew asking for a cocktail had been a mistake because he had the feeling that he was going to ask for another."You look good."Alastor blinked, his thoughts instantly freezing as he looked down at Michael. He desperately tried to rack his brain for an adequate response. "Thank you. You as well. The cape is a nice touch." The cape was a lovely touch. It flowed behind him like a train and the gold embroidery elevated the otherwise plain white silk. There was also more gold to his tunic and trousers, mostly in the form of medallions pinned to his breast. A gold circlet over his brow finished his look. "Do you like your ring?""I wasn't expecting platinum." Michael lifted his hand to admire the ring. "But it was a good surprise.""Charlie made it herself." Alastor could see that he surprised Michael. He glanced up to look at Alastor's expression, and finding no lie, looked back at his ring."I'm honoured." His eyes flicked to Alastor's throat. "That's an interesting ornament."Alastor's hand went to the glittering pendant he wore under his bow, his grin stretched wide. "You mean you don't recognise the wedding gift you gave me, my husband?"A muscle flickered under Michael's eye. "Oh yes. That gift. How callous of me to have forgotten. What a block I am.""Charlie says I should wear it if we can confirm that you're the only person with the ability to track it."Michael closed his eyes. "I will assure you that will be the case by the end of tonight. I assume that she wants to give me something in turn?" Alastor's smile was his answer. "Very well." He paused then murmured, "I would have backed out if you had.""I couldn't risk the children.""Of course not." His eyes flickered. "There's a very tall woman with an enormous hat coming our way.""That's Rosie, the Overlord of Cannibal Town, one of my closest friends.""She's not going to hug me, is she?"Alastor only had a chance for a smirk just as Rosie came to a halt in front of them. "Well! I leave you for three hours and find that you've had an emergency betrothal. What's the idea, buster?" Rosie tweaked straight his collar then laid her hand on his arm."What can I say? You should have snapped me up while you had the chance.""Hah! As if either of us would survive that. And you." Rosie turned her lively if abyssal dark eyes on Michael, who, to his credit, did not flinch. Instead, he coolly took her hand when offered and bowed over it."Overlord Rosie.""Prince Michael. That's not a name I ever expected our Alastor to be connected with.""I'm sure there is a saying about circumstances and bedfellows that fits our situation.""Hmm, very apt. I think I'm going to need to talk to you before I leave." She slipped her arm through Alastor's. "I need to take Alastor for a walk. Do feel free to look for him in about fifteen minutes."Michael took and held Alastor's tumblr in his hand, his eyes narrowing. "Of course." Alastor could feel the weight of his gaze on his back as they went."Now, I'm sure you'll be wanting to know, but Mimzy couldn't be contacted so she's just going to have to be pissy about missing this fancy party.""Ah." That was understandable but Mimzy's absence still stung, and that was quite unexpected. "And the reason you're dragging me away is...?""It's a bit sudden, isn't it? Especially after what we told you this morning.""Just a friendly talk?""Well, I'm friendly. We just want confirmation while you're sober.""Oh quite." Alastor summoned his cane and held it in the crook of his arm.Rosie led the way down the gallery, nodding this way and that at acquaintances they passed. About halfway down the gallery was a series of doors that led to a rather large balcony. There was a dry wind that brought the scent of roses from the gardens.Vox and Carmilla Carmine were waiting for them.Rosie released him and stood to the side."Here he is, the fucker." Vox came at him, finger pointing. "You said you didn't have any agreements with Heaven and the next thing we hear is that you're getting married to an angel. What. The. Fuck." The last three words were punctuated with a poke to Alastor's chest. He slapped away Vox's hand."Keep your hands to yourself, Overlord, or I will forget that this is my wedding day."Carmilla took hold of Vox's arm, pulling him back. "Keep a hold of your temper, Vox." She narrowed her eyes at Alastor. "I am sure that the Grand Duke will explain if we give him the floor."Alastor rested both hands on his cane, his fingers tensing ever so slightly. "Just like Hell has been inundated with rumours, it appears that Heaven also has the same affliction. Michael and Gabriel have come investigating rumours of their own. Apparently someone has been saying that Hell's legions have been gathering.""How convenient. And you are now allied with Heaven on the basis of rumours?""On the basis of presenting a united front. It cannot be denied that there is a common thread in these rumours, and before you accuse me of turning my back on Sinners, I might remind you that I, too, am a Sinner. That has not changed."Vox pulled his arm free from Carmilla. "Let go of me. Is that all you've gotta say? You've been invested with the Morningstars for centuries and you think you still care about the rest of us ground feeders?""The Sinners are Queen Charlotte's people. She would not let harm come to them if she can help it."Vox pushed his face against his. His projected features turned out to have more substance than just light as Alastor could feel the heat emanating from his face. There seemed to be a solid plane in front of Vox's face, solid enough that Alastor could feel the smooth surface against his forehead. "Don't you fucking lie, Alastor. You've been dead since that battlefield. You'd let us all die in a heartbeat." Vox stepped back, a nasty smirk spread across his face. "Not surprising that you've married the first guy that looks like Lucifer."Alastor threw a punch.His fist never connected. Michael was suddenly there, easily redirecting his blow. He caught him as Alastor lost his balance, slipping his arm around Alastor's waist."It's been fifteen minutes," he said to Rosie."So it has been." Rosie agreed. "Looks like if we want more answers, we'll just have to schedule an appointment with his grace's secretary."Michael nodded. Alastor saw him give Vox a look that burned with blue flame for all that his face remained impassive. "I will destroy you the next time you raise your voice against my husband. Enjoy the rest of the dinner." He turned, his arm around Alastor was like a steel rod. Alastor felt himself shaking and was grateful for Michael's arm even as he hated the need for Michael's intervention."I didn't want you to think back on this day and think about how you hurt your hand on that Sinner's face.""It might have been worth it." Alastor's voice was steady for all his pulse racing.Michael grinned, a glint of white in the candlelit room. "Perhaps the honeymoon?"Alastor managed a weak laugh. He hadn't been paying attention and found that Michael had guided them to a side room. He closed the door behind them as Alastor stumbled towards a plush settee and collapsed on to it. His hands were trembling, a trembling that didn't still as Michael slid his own hands into his."Just breathe. Steady in and out.""You're...being...very kind.""Keep on breathing. We're now bound. I have a duty towards you."Alastor squeezed his eyes. "Yes. A duty."So be it.

Commissioned from the very talented Lots of Love

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

There was dancing after dinner. Alastor really wished that they could just get on with the rest of the evening but Charlie was determined to follow protocol and ensure that he had the full treatment. Even so, with an intimate guest list of around fifty, she rather managed a lively affair. There was enough light, flash and entertainment to distract the eye, to distract Alastor from the butterflies in his stomach. Nothing could distract him from the first dance, and the feeling that something felt very wrong. He knew what it was the moment he led Michael out.

It should have been Lucifer there with him, celebrating their fifth half century together. Whatever was he going to tell him?

Alastor pushed it back, pushed it all back and focused on Michael. He was so different from Lucifer. They looked alike, were the same height, but Michael was steel and sky where Lucifer was fire and light. He moved differently from Lucifer, each step with determined purpose rather than nervous energy. As Alastor led them through the waltz, Michael kept up, his natural grace allowing him to move fluidly, but it was clear he wasn't the dancer Lucifer was. While not a flashy follow, he was perfectly adequate and held up his own.

"How are you holding up?"

There were many ways that Alastor could interpret that and he chose to take it at face value. "I'm fine. My nerves are shaky but they won't get the better of me. What were you and Rosie talking about just now?"

"Oh, you know. Things."

Okay, that was so deliberately evasive that Alastor frowned. "She didn't give you the shovel talk, did she?"

"Rosie didn't. She just stated very clearly that you should be taken care of."

Alastor frowned.

"And the lady with knife points on her shoes? She explained that she had the largest stockpile of Angelic steel apart from the royal armoury."

"Excuse me?"

"And I think Asmodeus and the owl one said something about dark stars ahead of me."

Michael's eyes were twinkling in amusement.

"How many shovel talks did you get?"

"All day? Not counting the servants?"

Alastor had never been so mortified in his life.

"My favourite was when this sprite of a child pushed a heart shaped card into my hand and it had a stick drawing of her wielding a knife."

"Merope, Charlie and Vaggie's youngest."

"She has excellent instincts."

"Don't encourage her."

"There was also this other child who was loping rocks in the garden with his catapult but I think he was just playing."

"Hector was aiming rocks at you?"

"No, you can't aim that well with a catapult. Besides, he only got off a couple payloads into the air before the Queensguard started chasing him." Michael hummed appreciatively. "He'll go far, that one."

"Not if he can't get away from the guards."

Michael laughed. Alastor tried not to stare. It was a bark of a laugh and it had caught Michael by surprise. His stern expression lightened and there was an amused spark in his eye. He had gone from merely pretty to beautiful.

His smile was like Lucifer's.

Alastor lowered his gaze on the pretence of executing some tricky footwork before looking back at Michael. He had allowed the smile to remain on his face, gentling his whole demeanour.

"And who is the scowling youth?"

A further description wasn't needed. Alastor had seen the frowning Dion in the crowd earlier and his oldest grandson hadn't come forward to congratulate him. "That's Dion."

"So that's what I'd look like if I were taller, angrier and surlier."

"He's younger than Adelaide by a few decades. He'll grow out of his moods."

"Don't make excuses for him, Alastor. This must be addressed sooner rather than later."

"I think I know my grandchildren better than you."

Michael merely raised a brow. Alastor had the feeling that the last word hadn't been said on that subject. Instead Michael changed the subject. "Do you think we can escape after a few more dances?"

A burr of unease coiled in his stomach but Alastor nodded. "It's been a long day."

The song came to an end, and the dance ended to applause. Other couples took the dancefloor and Alastor found himself dancing with Carmilla Carmine.

"It's already time for round two?"

"No. I'm not here to fight. I just want to confirm that you know what you're doing, Radio Demon?"

"No. I don't." Alastor let the reference to his old title slide.

Carmilla's eyes narrowed. "You're gambling with all our lives on this. If you're wrong, and this is the first step in Heaven's plan, then they have a staging ground on Pride through Michael. We can fight Exorcists, but Archangels are a different level of threat."

"I know."

Carmilla searched his expression then her face softened. "Or maybe this would be good for you. Perhaps this is just what you need to get out of your rut."

"I am not in a rut."

She smiled and there was a change in partners. This time it was Vaggie in his arms, dancing nimbly as he led them around the floor. "Do you know who I had to trip up to get this far in the line?"

"I cannot be that popular."

Vaggie only smiled. "You're all good for tonight?"

"Yes. I don't want to discuss this with you of all people but Nelphus has arranged a few items in my nightstand."

"Okay good." She had a look on her face like she was trying to hide a laugh.

"What is concerning is that Michael has already been charmed by Hector and Merope."

"What have they done? All I said to Merope was that you couldn't read to her tonight. She seemed to have understood."

"She's barely out of toddlerhood, Vaggie. She drew herself holding a knife in the handmade card she gave Michael."

"We're going to need that one for the wall." Vaggie paused. "We heard about Vox."

"He's nothing I can't handle. He's never been more than a gnat." Vaggie continued to give him a concerned look. "I'm a big boy, Vaggie. I can take care of myself."

"You know you're loved, right, Grand Duke?"

"I cannot for the life of me wonder why."

The song changed, and Alastor found himself dancing with Raphael of all people. "You would not believe who tripped me just now. I have never been so politely pushed in polite society and I've had to execute some tricky evasive maneuvers to avoid a lady with sharp teeth. Is that normal in Hell society?"

"I think this is a special occasion."

"Good to hear. I don't think we've been introduced." Raphael was of a height with Gabriel's, slightly shorter than Alastor, with golden marks on his face, triangular marks that led from his eyes to his chin. His eyes were also gold and his wings were pure white. "I'm Raphael."

"The Healer. I remember my catechism. A pleasure."

"Ah you know of me. That's good." He looked over Alastor's shoulder in thought, perfectly happy to follow Alastor's lead in this set, perhaps thinking of how to pose the question that Alastor could see in his face. "Not to breach or inquire into your private matters but you were physically intimate with Samael, yes?"

Alastor raised a brow. "Yes, with Lucifer."

"Then you should be fine with Michael if you have any questions regarding his situation."

"I...Thank you." In truth, Alastor had been trying his best to not think about any similarities that Michael and Lucifer shared.

Raphael nodded. "And if you have any questions...?"

"I won't ask them."

That brought a quirk of a smile to Raphael's mouth. "Message received." Then his smile faded as he looked into Alastor's eyes. "Oh, my child. Don't hesitate to tell Michael if you need to go slowly."

Alastor...didn't embarrass himself by breaking from Raphael's hold and stumbling away. He swallowed, allowed his feet to follow the steps that by now was ingrained into his muscle memory, and gave a stiff nod. "I'll keep that in mind."

Raphael studied him, face sombre. He kept to himself whatever else he saw in Alastor's face and they parted silently at the end of the song. Rosie being his next partner was a relief. He allowed her to chat merrily at him and he could pretend for just a moment that this was another dance at the Cannibal Town dance hall. This dance ended all too soon and Alastor had to admit to himself that he was trying to put off the inevitable. He led Rosie off the dance floor at the end of that song and when he turned, he somehow caught Michael's eye. He was speaking with Charlie, or rather, Charlie was speaking with him and he was looking at Alastor. There was a question in the arch of his brow and after a moment, Alastor nodded. He turned and headed out the nearest exit and waited just outside the door. Michael joined him presently and Alastor led him down the hallways to his chambers.

The further they moved away from the ballroom, the quieter the rest of the palace got. It was almost suffocatingly quiet. Alastor felt like all his nerves were pulled taut, not from excitement, no, but from dread.

"We don't have to do anything," Michael murmured. "We could just talk."

Best to rip the band-aid

. The thought flitted through Alastor's mind. Instead he said, "We should face this sooner than later."

Michael made a face. "My brothers advised that I may be something called an asexual. Truly, sex means nothing to me."

"Oh," said Alastor weakly. "You're like me." It was worse than he thought. This was going to be horrible. It was going to be two truly uninterested people pawing at each other. Alastor could not think of a more terrible time.

"Oh? Did Raphael also lock you in a room with something called personal lubricant and told you to explore?"

This time it was Alastor who was startled into a laugh. "No, my experience was not so stark."

"I should hope not. I was subjected to anatomical charts."

Alastor had to stop to control his snicker that developed into soft wheezes. Michael stopped beside him, enduring the mirth with faux pained haughtiness. "What a merry way to start this with my new husband laughing at me. Are your rooms far? Do you really want to walk all the way?"

Recovering, Alastor straightened. "Do you have portals as well? I have my own way." He held out a hand, which Michael took. The shadows came when he summoned them. He felt the cool grasp of his shadow self and they sank into darkness.

His rooms where they reappeared were softly lit. There was a tray of finger food on the coffee table in the sitting room and a gramophone played gentle jazz from one of Alastor's favourite records. There was wine and water waiting for them. Michael looked around, noting the mounted deer heads on the wall, the antlers and the various paintings and trinkets. There was nothing of Lucifer in this room, only the cufflinks that Alastor now unclipped from his sleeves. That and the golden snake, but she was another matter. His cufflinks went into a tray for later and he accepted the glass of white wine that Michael poured out. All the clutter from earlier that afternoon had been tidied away, with nary a sign of the chaos of strew suits and accessories. There was even a gentle scent of jasmine flowers, a very subtle room spray. From what he could tell, Nelphus had refrained from strewing rose petals over his bed. He appreciated Nelphus' attention to detail.

"This is the first time I've seen you drink all day."

"I don't like to drink on business."

Alastor nodded as he sipped his wine. "Understandable." He settled in on the sofa as Michael unclipped his cape and sat himself in the armchair, his wings spreading out behind him.

"I believe that the spare leather tray beside mine on the dresser is for you."

"Thoughtful."

"Yes, my valet is."

Michael grinned. "And I suppose that you would declare war on me if I were to steal him?"

There was a bleat of radio static and Alastor set down his glass. "I would prefer it if you didn't steal him. I would not be surprised if he were already gathering resumes of his other valet friends to hand over to you for selection."

"I'm not sure that I need one. I can tend to my own needs."

"Believe me, you'll find that you'll need one."

They fell into a companionable silence with Michael enjoying his wine and Alastor enjoying the record.

"You dance well."

"I should go into the bathroom to prepare."

They spoke at the same time. Alastor gave Michael a slightly confused look.

"I wasn't speaking out of hand when I said we could just talk. What preparation did you mean?" Michael tilted his head.

"I can be aroused, but only when I'm in the headspace for it. I don't think I can get hard tonight, so it's best if I prepare myself to receive you."

Michael's face shifted into several expressions. Alastor saw confusion, vague understanding, perhaps something like pity before his expressions settled back into dawning comprehension and horror. "I'm not going to force you if you are not willing. I thought I was clear about that."

"I am willing. I don't think I can get hard."

"Raphael said something about partners assisting with arousal. I think this counts."

"I..." Words could not describe just how much Alastor didn't want Michael's hands on him. "It would be easier if I prepared myself."

Michael studied him with his steely gaze. It was not unlike being examined under a microscope. Alastor tried to hold himself still but Michael still read him like a book.

"You don't want me to pleasure you."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Everything in Alastor's body just made him want to curl up into a ball and hide. He just sat there, gaze lowered, unable to stop the trembling in his hands, staring holes into the coffee table so that his eyes wouldn't get wet. Michael reached out to touch his arm and the gold snake whipped out from under his sleeve, rearing up with open fangs. Michael froze, not at the threat. No, even this first snake held no fear for the Archangel. No, he held still out of respect for Alastor.

Alastor gently picked up the little snake and laid her in the bowl of nuts to curl up in.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. Let's just talk."

"I'd rather you fuck me and get it over with."

"I'm not here as an instrument for you to punish yourself."

"Aren't you?" Alastor the Sinner lifted his eyes to Michael the Archangel. Michael held steady his gaze. There was a banked fury in Michael's eyes, cold blue eyes burning in the dim lighting of the room.

"Fine." Michael stood. "But after this night, I will not touch you unless you absolutely want me to. Is that clear? I will not be a part of your self-torture." He held a hand out to Alastor and pulled him easily to his feet.

"Understood."

"Go prepare yourself."

Alastor knelt on the cold tiles, forehead pressed against the vanity and his own slicked fingers up his arse. It had been two centuries since he had the opportunity to do this. He tried not to think of Lucifer, of his skillful fingers stretching him, teasing him. He couldn't think of those fingers while laying eyes on Michael. Alastor forced his mind to be blank, to think of nothing as he stretched his puckered hole. His cock hung between his legs, soft and limp.

He deserved this, said a little voice in his head. For all his sins, he deserved this. He deserved this for failing his King.

Alastor distracted himself by adding another finger and grunted at the fullness.

Michael's steps out in the room were a distracting balm. He heard his light steps as they wandered about his personal space, picking up clues to the demon that he married. Alastor tried very hard to remain aloof from the emptiness in his heart, but he was not going to lie to himself and say that Michael wouldn't find anything about him. He would have to deal with that another day. He pumped his fingers into himself a couple of times before finally pulling them out. Leaning against the vanity and contemplating all the missteps that brought him here, Alastor knew he had to get up. He couldn't wallow. He didn't have the luxury. He had to attend to his duty.

The Grand Duke stood. He was a little ungainly on his hooves. The reflection in the mirror looked too tired, too old for this, but he had a duty to perform. Pulling on his robe, he pocketed the bottle of lube and opened the door to the rest of the suite.

Michael was bare to the skin. The soft lighting in the room illuminated him, highlighting his pale blond hair and gold dipped wings. He was well made with straight limbs and porcelain white skin. His hair was still bound up with that ribbon, but that only left his face bare. He stood against the far wall, legs apart, hands clasped behind his back, unintentionally accentuating the muscles in his shoulders, and chest.

He looked just enough like Lucifer that it hurt.

Alastor clutched the front of his robe, frozen like the proverbial deer in headlights. He felt too base to be in such a presence.

Michael tilted his head quizzically and his expression softened. "Get on the bed, please. I'll join you there."

That gentle command was all Alastor needed to break out of his hypnotised state. He reached the bed in a couple of long steps and self consciously dropped his robe. Alastor was all too aware of his scared body and ruined body. Lucifer hadn't minded it, but then again Lucifer had been as broken as he was. Michael was breathtakingly whole and perfect. Even as Alastor had no love or affection for him, Michael was still undeniably beautiful.

Swallowing, Alastor sat on his bed and moved to lie on his stomach.

"No. On your back. Please. Please. I need to see your face so I know I'm not hurting you. Please."

It was that third please that made Alastor turn, resting on his back, exposing himself to his new husband.

Michael dropped his hands and approached. "I will need to touch you," he said. "I won't be able to do this without touching you. Understand that I barely know what I'm doing."

"Yes." Alastor gave him a tight nod as Michael perched on the side of the bed.

"You have a tail," he said, surprise lightening his tone.

Alastor closed his eyes, huffing a small laugh, relaxing just a little. He lifted his knee up as Michael lifted it with one hand and was startled into a quick inhale of breath as a feather light kiss was pressed on the inside of his knee.

"There's...there's more lubricant in the nightstand."

Michael nodded. He kept eye contact as he grabbed the bottles out of the drawer turning only to look at them quizzically.

Alastor, too, gave them a slightly confused look. "F-flavoured?"

"Yes, another time, perhaps.." He looked at the remaining two and raised a brow.

"I'm not familiar with either of them." The one in the bathroom was yet again a different brand.

"Well, just using this one at random." The bottle was perhaps the most utilitarian of the available options and also blessedly unscented.

Alastor closed his eyes when the bottle cap popped open and he shuddered when slicked fingers touched him. Michael's touch was light, curious. He explored gently, dipping in only shallowly before going back to gently circling his hole.

"You should-" Alastor paused and swallowed, his mouth both too wet and too dry. "You should spread some on your cock before you enter me." He tried to keep his hands flat on the bed but as Michael climbed onto the bed and settled between his legs, he found himself gripping the bedspread tightly.

This was all wrong. He knew it. Michael knew it. Yet he still nodded at Michael, giving him the signal to start entering him.

It had been so long, so very long. Every incidental touch made him hunger for more. It wasn't just the weight and girth of the cock in his ass, but every brush against Michael's body, every time his hand left his hips and brushed lightly against his skin, every time his breath feathered over his body.

It was too much.

Alastor closed his eyes.

Michael set an easy pace. He experimented at first with his rhythm and depth of thrust but soon settled into a regular rhythm. His thrusts were long and languid, a gentle rhythm that Alastor felt he could keep up for hours. Alastor didn't know if he had hours. He didn't know how long he could ignore the friction in him, the touch of another living person on his skin, the sound of someone else's breathing.

Tears began to prick at the corner of his eyes.

It was undeniably good to be touched again.

He didn't deserve it.

He didn't deserve any of the good things in his life and he didn't deserve this gentleness.

"Alastor. Alastor. Look at me. Please."

Alastor shook his head, willing his eyes closed and his lips sealed against his voice.

"Alastor, I need to know if you're in pain."

"I'm not," he rasped out immediately. Not physical pain. His traitor cock was attesting to that. He was hard and flat against his too lean stomach. He could feel himself bounce with each thrust. If he wasn't leaking, he would be soon.

It felt good and he hated it.

"Alastor, I miss him too."

Alastor's eyes snapped open and it was a mistake. Michael was leaning over him, his hair loosed from the ribbon and it flowed over his face, glowing like a halo from the lights behind him.

He looked so much like Lucifer at that moment.

Alastor came, Lucifer's name in his mouth. He shuddered from his climax. It didn't seem like it would end and then it did. Then the tears started flowing and he couldn't stop them. He couldn't stop the tears.

*

Michael lay on his back, staring up at the canopy of the bed. He was still nude, the shared bodily fluids of he and his husband were drying stickily on his skin but he couldn't bring himself to go get himself cleaned. Alastor had disappeared into the bathroom about half an hour ago and the shower hadn't stopped in all that time. He had tried knocking but there was no response and the door was locked when he tried the handle. It would have been the work of nothing to break the lock and enter the room but this was a clear request for privacy even as Alastor was hurting.

Michael gave half a thought to dressing and leaving but he rejected it. He had to stay, if only to promote the strength of the alliance. In the end, he sat up and cleaned himself with snap of the fingers. He pulled the sheets over him and sat up in the bed. He waited for the Grand Duke to emerge.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Michael woke to a soft clicking of a door closing and he woke to an empty room. The shower in the adjoining bath was no longer running with water and the bed beside him was empty. He was out of the bed and dressed simply in shirt and trousers with a snap of his fingers, his sword coming to his hand with a thought. He buckled on the belt about his waist and as he passed the door, he noticed the little gold snake was gone. Taking care to move silently, he opened the door as quietly as possible. The hallway outside was empty but he saw a shadow with long ears move down the side corridor.

Regretting not taking the long route from the ballroom, Michael followed after, making sure to keep out of sight.

Alastor had a long stride, and while it seemed that he was in no real hurry, it was also difficult for Michael to keep pace while also maintaining stealth. He lifted to his feet, propelled by his will alone, and glided after.

The palace was silent, though Michael thought he could hear some revelry out in the gardens.

Alastor avoided all parts of the palace where he could possibly run into people at this time of the night. He also seemed to have the guards patrol routes memorised. Where Alastor slipped past without notice, Michael had to perform tricky bits of manoeuvring to avoid notice. Patron saint of thieves and sneaks he might not be, but he could appreciate a little bit of strategic skullduggery.

Wherever Alastor was going, it was down the palace. He made his way down several flights of stairs from the servants' backstairs and then out in the grand entrance of the palace, taking the grand staircase down. There were more guards now, but they paid no mind to the Grand Duke's passage through the palace. Michael worked harder to avoid their notice, sometimes going completely invisible and that felt like cheating.

Once in the main hall, Alastor made a turn to the back of the hall, to a golden gate under the stairs that Michael hadn't noticed before. He wasn't sure why, it wasn't a small gate, but it was large with two outward swinging gates. It was opulent within, lined with polished alabaster on the stairs, walls and ceiling. Michael slipped past the gates, feeling a growing sense of trepidation. The symbols on the gates made it quite obvious who laid beyond them. No where else in the palace had Lucifer's seal. Charlotte and Vagatha preferred their own joint seal on their palace.

Michael abandoned all pretence of stealth. He let his feet touch the ground and walked openly down the stairs. They led underground, but it wasn't dark. Soft light in sconces on the walls lit the way. The passage led underground, but not in a way that made Michael's wings twitch. The ceiling remained high and the passage wide enough that it never felt claustrophobic.

The sound of water came to his ears and he was in an underground garden, but not one he'd ever expected.

The sky overhead was a soft dawn, and a gentle mist coated the ground. He heard something moving on the water and saw a small frog jumping from a lily pad. There were trees with long hanging branches and the scent of evergreen wetlands filled his senses. It was a bayou, he realised. There was a path before him, carefully laid out and taking a winding route into the trees ahead. Michael sensed no danger here and he followed the path. He brushed aside the veil of branches that swept across his path and there he saw his brother's resting place.

Michael had never paid much mind to what happened to Lucifer's body. Why should he? Samael was gone and his body was only a temple to house his spirit. Yet here was his body, underneath his palace, surrounded by an idealised wetland.

Lucifer stood out from the nature around him. He lay on a sarcophagus of fine stone, like a sacrificial lamb on the altar. He was laid out as if asleep, but only if you consider a marionette with closed eyes to be asleep. Was this his own fate? At the end of time, he too would resemble a doll with his strings cut? It was Lucifer, Michael could sense it, for all he looked like a plain marionette in wood, with ball joints and limp limbs and a blank face with painted eyes and red circles on his cheeks. There was a ring of dark metal around his finger.

"He changed in the hours after you left. Back at the battle."

Michael turned to see Alastor leaning against a tree trunk, his hands held in front of him. He must have passed him without noticing him as he moved through the low branches. He didn't say a word, only letting Alastor speak.

"The softness left his cheeks, his hair faded away and his flesh gone like it never existed. It was...quite traumatic."

Alastor spoke with his eyes never wavering from Lucifer's body but his voice had a very faint tremor.

"I...sometimes I wonder if I caused this change in him."

"I don't see how you could have."

Alastor hung his head, his hands clutching each other. "I used to say." He stopped, trying to find his voice. "I used to say that he liked being a trinket for me, one that I could arrange to my own delight."

Michael turned his gaze back to the wooden body then back at Alastor. "I would say that would be unlikely. If he changed, it was because this is what we are."

That was difficult to admit, to give voice in the air. He was a puppet for the Creator, to dance to the Creator's tunes. Even this, this path he was taking with Alastor, this was due to the Creator's will. Alastor didn't respond, remaining silent.

The marionette that was Lucifer, that was Samael lay unmoving on his stone bed. The wood that he was carved in was polished gently. He was well made and made with love. There was no flaw in the wood but a long seam that ran down his side. Michael dared to touch that seam, wonderingly.

"We are twins. We were always told that and we were close in the beginning. I wonder when I turn into a marionette that I, too, will have this seam to mirror this."

"He missed you, too."

"I'm sure he had more complex and stronger emotions than that."

"He did. But he missed you more."

Michael stood where he was, looking down at the remains of his brother. Alastor came up to stand beside him. They were close and they would touch if Michael twisted his hand. He let it stay where it was.

Alastor spoke after a moment. "I don't think I'll return to the room tonight. I'll go do some paperwork in my office. Nelphus will come and wake us at five, do try not to scare him, or steal him away. It is a bother to train up a new valet." He turned to leave.

Michael let him go for a few steps before calling out. "Alastor." Alastor stopped, half turning. He looked tired to Michael's eyes, but he no longer looked very despondent, as if his tears earlier had relieved his pain a little. "We said vows earlier tonight. I mean to keep them. I don't easily forsake my vows. I will walk with you in the darkness of the Rings, and I will hold your name with pride in the highest reaches."

Alastor blinked. He opened his mouth, then closed it and just nodded. He turned away, slowly this time and headed for the stairs upwards. Something flickered in the shadows under the trees as Alastor passed and it looked like his shadow detached itself to join him.

Alone, Michael looked down once more at the marionette and bent to press a dry kiss where his lips should be. "You know," he said as if Samael were there in the flesh. "I haven't seen one face that I expected to see since I arrived. I wonder where that wife of yours is. Keep safe, Samael. I'm going to fix this mess you've created."

*

A few hours later, Nelphus rolled his cart through the door a bit after five. "Good morning, your grace, your highness-" He stopped abruptly, staring at Michael as he cleaned his sword. Unconcerned, Michael ran the cloth along the bright length of his blade. He held it up, admiring the mirror finish.

"Yes? Nelphus was it?"

Nelphus' eyes darted around, his eyes widening even more as he couldn't lay his eyes upon the Grand Duke. His throat bobbed as he clutched at the handle of the cart.

Michael decided to take pity on him.

"Alastor had gone to his office to finish up some paperwork."

"On the day after his wedding?" Michael would not mock Nelphus by saying that he squawked, but that was what it sounded like.

"I admire a man who is dedicated to his work."

"But..." Nelphus gestured at his cart. "I have his coffee, his newspapers, his meeting notes and letters and I've got juice and water for you. He never starts his day without his coffee and papers."

"We can go find him if you like."

"Does he have his clothes? I keep a suit in his office for emergencies but that's all that's there. I'll, uh, just go get some of his things." His eyes flickered to Michael's still naked blade then back at him.

Michael helpfully sheathed his sword. "Well, go on then." Nelphus couldn't have disappeared into the closet any quicker. Michael got to his feet, pulling on his swordbelt. He was already dressed, boots polished and tunic buttoned neatly. The bed was tidied, the sheets freshened and the shower cleaned and dry with a snap of his fingers. There would be no salacious rumours based on the contents of the room if he could help it.

The ring around his finger was a strange feeling. It was hard and cold, an unfamiliar presence on his hand. He was glad for the choice of platinum. Gold would have been too soft for a swordsman and he didn't want it to dent too soon.

Nelphus wasn't long and came back out hastily stuffing a small velvet bag into his pocket.

"Well. Lead the way."

Michael fell into step with the Goetia. He wasn't as tall as Alastor but he still needed to move fast to keep up with his pace.

Nelphus cleared his throat. "His grace is...well?"

"Oh yes. He just wanted to catch up on work lost yesterday."

Nelphus looked dubious and somewhat worried. He led the way through corridors and hallways that were quickly becoming familiar to Michael, who in turn was mapping them to his internal floor plans of the palace. It was a ten minute walk from Alastor's rooms to his offices. They went down a couple of staircases where Michael just picked up the cart, and made their way to what Michael recognised was a more public wing of the palace. "His grace has his meetings here, then?"

"He has offices in the city as well, but this is where he does most of his work."

"It's a rather long trek out for petitioners."

"There's a tour bus that comes out several days of the week. They coincide with audience times with the Queen and the Grand Duke."

"Parts of the gardens are for the public, then?"

"Oh yes, her majesty encourages her people to enjoy her father's creations."

"Generous of her."

"The old king seemed something of a genius." Nelphus snapped his head at Michael, his expression one of chagrin. "Oh, sorry, you'd know that."

Michael gave him a gentle smile. "You never met him, then?"

"Oh no, much before my time. I'm only thirty-eight."

Sometimes it was difficult to guess the ages of angels and demons but Michael expected Nelphus to be much older.

"But my grandfather would have stories of the old Radio Demon. He was infamous in his youth."

"Yes, we met once. I remember that day." An understatement. That day was seared into the fabric of his memory.

Then they were at Alastor's offices. It was just around the corner from the grand staircase to the lower floor. The doors were open and there were already guards at either side. Michael didn't miss the perplexed look they gave Nelphus, nor the quick shrug and shake of the head from the valet. Neither of the guards looked at Michael but he could tell that was a show of self control more than anything.

Michael stepped through before Nelphus and his cart. Alastor was standing before his desk, dressed in what was the spare suit that Nelphus referred to. He was fiddling with his cuffs, staring off into the distance, and looking confused.

"Here he is. I told you I didn't murder him in the night."

Now Nelphus did squawk. "Your highness! I didn't accuse you of that."

Alastor, however, laughed. "Ah, you found me. Nelphus, I'm going to need to trouble you with my sleeves."

"I have your cufflinks right here." The cart was pushed into the room and abandoned as Nelphus pulled out the velvet bag. Michael helped himself to fresh pressed and chilled fruit juice, not trusting himself with coffee at this hour of the morning. He sat himself at one of the armchairs in the office as Nelphus fussed over Alastor, setting his cufflinks, squinting and fixing his hair and giving his coat a quick brush before stepping back and giving his charge a critical look over.

Alastor endured this patiently, trusting Nelphus to his craft before the valet nodded curtly. "My lord is presentable," said Nelphus then went to pour a cup of coffee for Alastor. Alastor sat opposite Michael, accepting the coffee and a sheaf of paper. He took a sip of his coffee and immediately looked like he was at ease with all the world.

"Is this breakfast?" Michael was prepared to be appalled.

"No, just the first coffee of the day. Breakfast is with the family in the blue parlour. We probably won't meet any of the others. I keep earlier hours. Nelphus, do you know if Adelaide did her night shift like she said? I only just remembered."

"I'll ask." But a guard outside poked her head around the door frame and shook her head, saving Nelphus the effort.

"We might see Adelaide at breakfast. She wakes early to train."

Michael raised a brow. "What does she train with?"

"She prefers the trident, a bit of a family favourite, but the morning training is ten laps around the palace grounds."

Alastor seemed much more at ease this morning. He sat at ease, his ankle crossed at his knee, and he looked refreshed, not like he spent the night working. Michael could see Nelphus sneaking glances at his employer.

"And plans for the rest of the day?"

Alastor looked at his notes. "There's a luncheon for all the remaining guests, then dinner with the family later."

Michael waited patiently. Alastor looked up, blinking at him. "I meant your plans."

"Oh. I...have work. There's a couple of meetings that I need to attend, update the other Sins and so forth."

"Ah, the Sins. I should speak with them also. Would you mind if I attended that meeting also?"

Alastor paused, eyes narrowing every so slightly. "What did you have in mind?"

"I think I should address the leaders of the other Rings. I'm sure they have questions. The Overlords of Pride as well."

"You're still looking for those massing legions, aren't you?"

"I am," said Michael simply. "And I think, also the source of the rumours here. What did you say Adelaide was doing? Investigating the Doomsday District? I think I might take Gabriel out for a flyover this morning."

"You're an even larger eyesore than Adelaide is in full uniform. You're not going to get the sort of information by being a living beacon of light."

"Sometimes, the direct approach is more effective."

Michael took a sip of his juice. It was very fresh and very cool, the condensation beading over his glass even as he willed his hand to remain dry. He saw Nelphus check his watch from the corner of his eye and the subtle gesture he gave Alastor. Alastor nodded, setting down his empty coffee mug but pocketed his papers. "Breakfast has been laid out. You need to tell the staff your favourite dishes. They'll try to accommodate." He stood and held out a hand to Michael. His juice was still almost full when he set the glass down and took Alastor's hand.

Breakfast was in a different room from the informal sitting room where they met Charlotte and Vagatha the previous day. Michael didn't blink at the vastness of the palace with its excess of rooms. It was quite typical of Samael's style. He liked making large gestures, much like this palace that he had clearly designed.

"Will you walk with me in the gardens after breakfast?"

Alastor blinked. "Ah. Yes. I think I have the time. Oh, I almost forgot, I did need to show you something in the gardens."

"I should be delighted to view this." Alastor's hand was warm in his, perhaps almost too warm, but it was nothing to Michael who could withstand extremes of temperatures. He gave his hand a squeeze. "Shall we?"

Adelade was indeed at breakfast. She came in a few minutes after Alastor and Michael and stared uncertainly at the newcomer to the table. Alastor, busy with filling Michael's plate, didn't notice the look of surprise, but Michael did. He gave her a slight smile as he slipped the bacon back into Alastor's plate.

"Good morning, gran-pær. Your highness." Adelaide took the seat by Alastor's right.

"Good morning, Adelaide." Alastor still hadn't noticed the extra bacon on his plate as he served Adelaide an omelette that was kept warm under a cloche. "Are you just coming in from the night watch?"

Michael speared an orange wedge on his fork and neatly sliced it into two before putting it in his mouth whole, pulp, pith and skin. Adelaide's eye twitched as she tried to pay attention to Alastor.

"I wasn't on the night watch. I've been grounded, gran-paer. Mother has suspended me from any guard duties." Adelaide didn't pout, but she did display a pair of large eyes at Alastor.

"A very light punishment."

"Yeah." Adelaide sighed. "I suppose."

She still eyed Alastor as he poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and Michael saw her eyes flick towards Nelphus. Michael couldn't see the valet's response but Adelaide's reaction was a raised brow.

"Where did this bacon come from?"

"Would you believe that I never developed a taste for pork? I never liked the greasiness." Michael speared another bit of orange and again ate it whole. Alastor's eye twitched. "Don't worry about me. I eat for pleasure, not sustenance. I do like fruit."

"Evidently. Adelaide, if you're free this morning, perhaps you could serve as tour guide for Michael and Gabriel? They need to be back before eleven. Michael wishes to address the Sins."

"Oh yes, Asmodeus and Leviathan are still here. So that's Mammon, Belphegor and Satan phoning in. Do you want me to sit in? Can I sit in?"

Alastor put down his cutlery and pressed his mouth to his steepled fingers. Adelaide winced. "Oh."

"It's not a no, Adelaide, but you are not my choice for the heir of Pride. Oh, sha, wait." Alastor gripped her sleeve but lightly.

"Okay." It struck Michael then that Adelaide was very young.

"You are going to be queen, Adelaide, and you are going to be a fine ruler. You definitely have my support for when your mothers' name a successor."

"But I'm not going to be your successor."

"No. Pride is not your sin."

"I have pride, I know pride. I wear my uniform with pride.”

"But you don't live it. Pride is not built into your being, and that is a good thing. You're a well rounded person and that is so rare in Hell."

"Pride," said Michael. "Is glaring up from the mud with blood in your teeth, and still knowing you're in the right." He sipped his water. "Pride is sitting ramrod straight as you hold in your spilling insides when you spit your enemy in the eye. You, delightful child, are not ruled by pride."

Adelaide blinked at him.

"Please, not at the breakfast table," Alastor murmured. "But Michael is right."

Wiping the corner of her eye with the back of her free hand, she looked up with a brave smile. "Sorry, it's been an emotional couple of days. Wait. You're working on the day after your wedding?"

"Yes?"

"Do my mothers know?"

"I don't see how this is either Charlie or Vaggie's business."

Michael picked up an orange from the bowl in the middle of the table and just bit into it whole, partly because he did like oranges but mostly to hide his amusement because Adelaide clearly thought otherwise.

"I'll ask if I'm allowed to step out of the palace grounds to escort my uncles." She absolutely did not stare at Michael. Michael wasn't sure if Alastor had noticed. Mortal born and young souls tended to have strange reactions to his eating habits.

"Excellent, Michael and I will be taking--what are you doing?"

Michael smiled and took another bite.

*

They really didn't spend a lot of time in the breakfast room after that. Alastor was by habit a fast eater and Michael slipped another fruit into his pocket. His ring was an unfamiliar hardness still and he was still caught by how it looked on his hand. Michael couldn't yet put into words why he was so charmed by the ring. He wasn't the type to habitually wear jewellery.

The gardens were relatively cool and quiet in the early morning. There were only tolerable days in Hell. Alastor scowled at the sky.

"We'll have acid rain later," he said in a grim tone.

"The gardens are protected?"

"They are, but it's always a strain on the environmental spells. It takes effort to maintain the gardens."

Michael stopped to sniff a rose while Alastor kept his distance from the bushes. "A much appreciated effort." He arched a brow at Alastor who looked at him with some envy. "You don't like roses?"

"I love roses. My mother tended to the roses at church almost religiously. Hell's judgement upon me is that I cannot enjoy roses anymore."

"Church? You were initiated into faith?" Michael wasn't sure why he was surprised. Only those of the faith were in either Heaven or Hell. This Heaven and Hell. He rejoined Alastor, easily keeping pace with him through their walk.

"Yes. Of course. I grew up in the early nineteen hundreds in New Orleans, Louisiana. Everyone I knew was Catholic. Mother and I knew I was different from an early age and she strived to make sure that I knew how to be as normal as possible."

Michael sniffed, breathing in Alastor's essence into himself. He tasted the spice of Alastor's soul. "Your first sin was murder."

"My first sin was in protecting my family from my step-father."

"No," said Michael. "That's not what tainted your soul. It hardened your heart, perhaps, but it didn't taint your soul."

Alastor stopped. "You know, don't you. You know what it takes for a soul to reach Heaven. Even Sera and Emily didn't know. You could have helped Charlie all those years ago."

"Sera and Emily are so very young. At the time, Sera had just reached her fifth century. I did read Emily's report and believe me, group therapy was not going to work."

"Then what will?"

"Repentance, of course. True repentance. I talked to that soul... that friend of Queen Charlotte's? Sir Pentious, I think his name was. He sacrificed himself, and in so doing, repented for his original sin of desertion. You see, he left his men for dead when he was a military officer. "

"And by sacrificing himself, he redeemed himself," said Alastor. "We never had the full picture."

"Of course you didn't. Charlotte’s hotel is still in operation?"

"Yes, it's run by two Sinners, Husk and Angel Dust."

"I could talk to the Sinners there, as a favour to Charlotte."

"She may appreciate it."

They carried on, the day getting warmer despite the early hour. There was no true night either in Heaven or Hell, but there were periods of less intensity.

"I'm surprised that you haven't offered to reach out to my family as some sort of scheme to redeem my soul."

"Redeeming you was never my task. If you had asked I would have arranged it."

"No," Alastor said immediately. "Don't inform my family or my mother about me."

"I'm sure that she would have come to that conclusion since you've not appeared in Heaven, but that is your choice."

"Don't you want to ask my reasons?"

"I'm sure that you have them." Michael raised his brows. "I'm not treating you as a common Sinner. You are the Grand Duke, a major player on the gameboard. By your word, armies rise and fall. You just arranged the next generation of Hell's leaders at breakfast. Having you in Heaven would be a headache for me."

Alastor laughed. It was there and gone in second and Alastor sobered back up. "I'm still not enough," he said softly. "The only reason you ceded the field was because he died. You could have wiped us all out."

"I still can, if I find that you were pushing for war."

"I am not."

"Then I will find the source of these rumours and teach them the judgement of Heaven."

*

They parted ways not long after that. Michael watched Alastor's straight back as it disappeared into the palace, his hanger-ons trailing after him. He then made his way to the room that was assigned to his brethren. He remembered the way through the twists and turns and found them loosely gathered around a table laden with their own breakfast.

Gabriel held out a pomegranate and tossed it. Naturally he bit into it like it was an apple. Tart juice ran down his chin that he wiped away with a negligent hand.

"How many people have you horrified this morning?"

"The regular amount. I'm meeting the Sins later this morning but I'm going to do some investigating in the Doomsday District. Adelaide may come with me. I'm taking you along, Gabriel."

"Oh good," said Raphael, his hands around the coffee carafe. "I was worried you were going to take me for a moment there. Last night went well?"

Michael shrugged.

"No scowl, no simmering righteous fury," noted Uriel. "Looks like it went well enough."

"Well enough," Michael agreed, definitely not thinking about Alastor's breakdown, of his tears, of his resolute determination to punish himself. He considered sharing what he knew about Lucifer's body and decided against it. This would be something he needed permission from the family. "Have any of you heard anything about Lilith?"

"Yes, I found her absence interesting," said Gabriel. "Do you want to broach that potentially sensitive subject with Queen Charlotte, oh wait, no. It shouldn't be you."

"Tell us how you really feel about the First Woman," Uriel murmured.

"It's not the time nor the place."

"You want to know what's interesting? Young Dion's attitude. He seems to hate the Grand Duke for no apparent reason." Gabriel raised his brow. He was delicately spreading cheese across some bread before taking a bite.

"Gossip, Gabriel?"

"That young soul was spitting his vile words all about the place last night," said Uriel. "This would be sometime after you and the Grand Duke's absence was noted." They raised their brows. "It

did

go well, yes?"

"It's consummated." Michael took another bite of his pomegranate, chewing effortlessly through the tough skin.

Raphael tilted his head. "It must have gone well because you're not protecting yourself, you're protecting him. You've connected emotionally."

Michael put down the fruit.

His siblings leaned away.

"I was not expecting that so soon," Michael admitted. "We bonded over Samael."

"Of course you did. I imagine that you'd have lots in common once you start talking about Samael," said Gabriel. He cautiously stepped closer to the table, rescuing his cup of horribly sugared tea. He peered into Michael's eyes. "Guarded, hmm?"

"It's private. For now."

"And how kind are you being to yourself?" Raphael lifted his carafe like a shield between himself and Michael.

"Kind enough." Michael picked up his fruit again. "It's no effort to be around my husband. Alastor is self-punishing enough that it blunts the stench surrounding most Sinners."

"I've barely noticed it," said Raphael. "It's almost unhealthy. I suggest you find out what he's doing to himself that's detrimental to his upkeep."

"Apart from overwork?"

"It's more than overwork. Perhaps talk to the tall lady with the teeth. They seem close." Raphael lowered the carafe. "Michael, if I were any judge of health, I feel that he's starving himself."

"He ate this morning. He ate last night at dinner."

"Then find out what he's denying himself. I say this not as an agent of Heaven but as a physician and the architect of the human body. What he's doing is destroying him."

Michael thought back to the conversation at breakfast. An immortal soul would only think about a successor for only one reason. He thought back to the events of the previous day, when Alastor pushed for the alliance to be bound to him. Self destructive. "You may have something there."

Michael took another bite out of his fruit as he turned his thoughts around in his head.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Adelaide was unfortunately strictly grounded and confined to the palace up to the gates but she still managed to cobble together some resources for Michael and Gabriel. Nelphus was with her and he begged for a moment of Gabriel's attention while Adelaide passed over the package. He pulled out the contents of the envelope and found a couple of maps, a transcript of Alastor and the Overlords regarding the rumours, and a possible list of suspects based in Doomsday. Michael was about to ask Adelaide to point out Overlord Rosie's location on the map when he found her looming over him.

"What did you do to Gran-paer? You need to do more of it."

A dozen inappropriate responses churned in Michael's head. He shifted through them quickly, plucking out the most bland and appropriate for a ten thousand year old entity to say to a young soul of less than two centuries.

"That would be up to him."

"No, you don't understand, he needs it."

Michael maintained a politely blank expression. Perhaps there would be a phenomenon somewhere that would require his immediate attention. He prayed for Gabriel's gift of prophecy to make an appearance.

Adelaide slapped her forehead. "I meant that he's gone from an anxious ball of teeth to deflated balloon overnight."

"Ah. I'm sure the few conversations we had helped with that."

"Just talking?"

Michael maintained his blank expression.

Adelaide stared at him, clearly frustrated. "I just need to know that he won't slip back into his former state."

"You can't control people," Michael said in a gentle tone. "Sometimes you just need to enjoy their company as they are."

That wasn't the response that Adelaide was after. She still looked frustrated and would have spoken more but Nelphus' clearing his throat stopped her, his eyes looking at something above their heads. Michael looked up and saw Alastor looking down on them from a balcony several stories up. Michael spread his wings and leapt into the air, powering upwards with just a single beat of his many wings. He hovered easily at eye level with Alastor, the updraft he created buffeting at his coat and hair.

"I thought I'd see if you had already left."

Michael held up the envelope of notes. "Just waiting on Adelaide. The meeting with the Sins is at eleven? I'll be back before then."

Alastor nodded and Michael was off, twisting in the air in swoop then rapidly gaining height with each wingbeat. Gabriel caught up with him soon after.

"Show off."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"He's still watching you."

Michael grunted, noncommittally.

"For what's it worth, I don't think that Adelaide was asking if you and Alastor had sex."

"That's a relief."

Now that they weren't keeping pace with a groundbound van, they could fly at decent speed and were at the city limits in the space of minutes. Soaring above Pentagram City, they observed the many inhabitants below. They circled once to gain their bearings before making a downward trajectory towards the Doomsday District.

"I think she was asking if you were going to stay."

"Ah."

"Yes."

Less said on that for now the better.

They landed on a rooftop, not the highest in the district because that would attract attention. Gabriel walked over the edge to look over at the streetscape below. There were echoes of gunfire and explosions even this early in the morning.

"Delightful. Think we'll find who we need to find?"

Michael smiled. "Do you really think we came all the way here to talk to souls?"

"Well, I didn't think you were going to join them down there in open combat." Gabriel looked over his shoulder and made a face. "Stop smiling. You look creepy when you smile."

"I have a very lovely smile."

"No one thinks you have a lovely smile."

"I refuse to be bullied over my smile." Michael drew his sword. Gabriel stayed exactly where he was, right until Michael raised the tip and lightly drew it in the air. He held out the envelope to Gabriel. "Just take out one of the maps, the one of the whole city. Keep that in your pocket, I want it back later." Gabriel found the map and held it in his hand as he returned the rest of the envelope. Michael had just finished drawing the glowing Enochian words in the air and he held up the envelope. "Obey me. Show me a soul who can give us an answer." The words burned, as did the envelope, and slowly a face began to form out of mist in the air.

"For a moment there I thought it was going to be a face that we knew."

"That might be too obvious." Michael held out his hand and the misty features shifted and swirled, coalescing into a solid ball of light that settled in his hand. "I'm going to soften him up for you."

"Oh come on." Gabriel's protest fell on deaf ears as Michael dropped off the side of the building.

It was easy enough to find the soul indicated, and Michael only felt a slight amount of guilt as he burst through the window of his apartment. Only slightly. He smelt excess and indulgence in the air in the brief moment he was in the apartment before he grabbed the demon and hauled him out the window after him, beating his wings into the heights of the sky almost immediately. This person was clearly a Sinner with a Jack o' Lantern head on a lanky body. He went from barely awake to screeching in the space of seconds, which bode very well for the condition of his vocal chords.

"Please please please I only lied about the Exterminations! I was paid! Don't killlll meeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Michael dropped him from a great height, a gentle smile on his face. He counted five seconds then swooped down to catch him. He did this a couple of times, the astringent smell of ammonia meeting him after the first time he caught him. Gabriel stepped in and wretched the sobbing mess from his grasp.

"Honestly, brother. He was ready to spill the moment you brought him up here."

"I had to make sure, brother, and now we absolutely know that this Sinner will tell us the truth."

The Sinner blubbered something that was possibly in affirmative.

"That wasn't very clear. Perhaps one more drop?"

"No! Back! Down! All right, we're going to a nice solid rooftop now, and you're going to tell us everything about the person who told you to tell you such lies. I'm sure you had a very good reason for taking money for dishonest work." Speaking softly as he cradled the Sinner, Gabriel led the way back to the rooftop where they first landed.

"There, we're on solid ground now. You're safe now. What's your name?"

The Sinner sniffed. He took a step and his legs folded underneath him. He was still trembling, eyes on Michael as he landed behind Gabriel. "'M Nightmare Jack," he mumbled.

"Well, Jack, you can tell us all about the lies you were asked to tell."

"No. Your real name."

Jack winced and Gabriel shot him a glare. Michael continued smiling.

"albert," Jack said in a soft voice. "i was called albert."

"Thank you, Albert. Now about those lies."

Albert was paid a great deal to spread the word that the Exterminations were back. He'd already made the link between the presence of the seraphim before him and the lies he was told to make and it wasn't hard for him to then make further leaps.

"I didn't see her face," he said, his words tumbling over the other. "She was all veiled and this other demon talked for her. She was tall, so was this guy. He sounded like a kid, maybe a Goetia. He spoke real fancy too. But they paid well and they didn't even bind me to a contact. Guess it wasn't that important and they wanted to play a little prank on the city. Goetia are always so snooty like that. Some people just want to see the city burn." He shrugged.

Gabriel exchanged a glance with Michael. There was not a word of lie that Albert spoke.

"Thank you, Albert. You spoke very well. I'll drop you off at your building so you don't have to walk in public in your underclothes."

"And may I add," said Michael, very amiably. Albert flinched. "Move somewhere else. You don't want this veiled lady to return for you."

"Uh...okay."

"Good lad."

All in all, Michael felt like it had been a productive morning.

*

They returned to the palace with about an hour to spare until the next meeting and Michael decided to take a walk. Gabriel accompanied him but they were soon separated when Gabriel strayed to examine some flying stick insects in a gardenia bush.

The gardens felt like Samael. They were ornate with well maintained topiaries and bonsai-esque trees. Michael hadn't previously thought it was possible to train a hibiscus into what was essentially a ball on a stick, but there we go. It was perhaps too ornate a garden for his tastes but he couldn't deny that it felt peaceful just walking through them.

Michael wasn't alone in the gardens. Gabriel was somewhere behind him, watching insects and probably tracking down the beehives. There were about a half dozen gardeners tending to the plants and the grounds. Guards making their patrols at uneven intervals passed by him once or twice. There was no such thing as a guard round that was untrackable but Michael silently congratulated them on their efforts. They certainly marked his presence. Michael wasn't making any effort at going unseen.

Unlike the young boy that was sulking under a sunflower grove.

The last time Michael saw this boy was the previous day when he was running from the Queensguard. From his fine if scuffed clothing, it was clear that he was no common trespasser, even if one didn't note his silver hair and skin and pale marks on his face as one of the royal heirs. Today he was dressed in a button down shirt with short sleeves, shorts with suspenders and a pair of well made but sturdy shoes. The shorts had dirt on the seat, the shirt was dusted with soot and there were muddy smears on the shoes. Michael hadn't spent a great deal of time around children but estimated the boy's age to be "old enough to know better" and "too young to be an adolescent".

Shrugging and because he had time to kill, Michael approached the boy. He stopped a few feet away, making sure that his boots were in full view of the boy's downward gaze.

"Good morning, Hector. I don't believe that we've been formally introduced."

Hector looked up and saw that he resembled Vagatha quite thoroughly if only for his eyes and the pink marks. Those were Charlotte's, of course. Michael endured the child's examination with serene patience.

"You're the prince from Heaven who's married grand-père."

"I am. My name is Michael." All languages of Earth sounded alike to Michael but he definitely heard a different inflection from Adelaide.

Hector stood. He either was very young or he wouldn't be very tall. He gave Michael an intense frown. "You're short, like me," he announced.

Michael had forgotten how forward children were and he was quite amused rather than offended. "I am. I'm also your grandfather's twin brother."

The little face screwed up in confusion. "Grand-père or...you mean Lucifer?"

"That's right. And we were the same height."

There was certainly a belligerent air to Hector but Michael could tell it wasn't directed at him.

"So you must be very old, then. That works out because Grand-père is also very old.

"Quite old," Michael agreed. What's give or take ten or so millennia of age difference?

"Do you know anything about siege engines?"

"Which era?"

Hector gave him a wide smile. "Roman! Can you help me? They took apart my trebuchet."

"I'll see what I can remember. Lead the way."

Hector's workshop appeared to be an out of the way area of the grounds. It was behind a couple of hedgerows and under a strange looking hut on stilts and consisted of several untidy piles of materials, assorted tools scattered about the grove, and the remnants of a working scale model of a trebuchet. It wasn't destroyed, but clumsily dismantled. Michael supposed that it could be reassembled but it was clear that Hector had moved on from throwing rocks and now had bigger plans.

"I think I understand the torsion of the ropes needed to wind up the tension but I don't know."

"Hmm. Let's see if we can build a small scale model and I'll try to explain."

Michael was careful to not let time get away from him, but still, one of Alastor's aides had to come fetch him. There were many little sketches drawn up on a piece of scrap wood before it looked right to Michael. Samael would have been able to explain physics a great deal better but it wasn't his purpose to understand the workings of the universe, but to use his tools effectively. All of this meant that he knew how to build instruments of war and he knew they worked. He left the know-how to those who were going to build them.

Hence the scale models. He bent over Hector's sketches and preliminary draft work, transcribed as accurately as possible from the plans that were in his head. Hector frowned at his sketches then beamed. "I think I can get my tutors to help with the plans and then we can start building this afternoon!"

"After lunch? I believe that I have the time."

"This is going to be so great!" Hector grinned, his knee shaking from excitement. He jumped off the tree stump that was his makeshift stool and ran off, clutching various mismatched pieces of flat wood to his chest.

Michael turned to the aide who had been waiting patiently.

"Yes?"

The aide cleared her throat. "Well, your highness, I'm not sure that his grace would approve of encouraging the young prince."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. While his highness doesn't aim at the staff, there are close calls."

"That just seems to me that the young prince needs a dedicated testing area."

The aide sighed. "Very good, your highness."

"Is the meeting to be held at the grand duke's offices?" With the aide affirming that, Michael summoned a portal, a circular cut in the air that opened a wormhole between himself and within the palace. He saw the guards at the doors startle and reach for their weapons but Michael waved them down. He gestured to the aide to step through first before following after, the portal closing after him.

Michael straightened his tunic and raised a brow at the guards.

"Your highness," muttered one, hastily opening the door for him. Michael stepped through. Apparently he beat the other Sins as only Alastor was there. The Grand Duke had a glazed look to his eyes as he held a telephone receiver to his ear, a look that he rapidly blinked out of once Michael stepped into the room. He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Yes, Mammon. I am aware. No, I will not be charging royalties. No, I am not giving you permission to 'make a buck' out of the recording of the wedding. No, I am still not letting anyone record me. No, I am not bringing this up in the meeting. Yes, I am aware that I am a boring old stick. Kindly shove that down your gullet. Have a nice day."

Alastor didn't slam the receiver into its cradle though he really looked like he wanted to do so. He leaned back in his chair. "Did you have a better morning than I did?"

Michael shrugged. "I let a Sinner fall to his death several times. I wouldn't say that was fun per se."

"Several times? Was the first death not satisfying enough for you?"

That was such a fun and snappy comeback that Michael grinned. "I didn't kill him. I just let him think he was dying. He admitted to spreading rumours about the Extinctions."

"Is this someone we need to be aware of?"

"I don't think so. I think I scared him onto the straight and narrow and Gabriel just reinforced that with kindness."

"Urgh, kindness." Alastor straightened his notes on his desk before standing. "Shall we? I normally have the meeting here but since there'll be four of us I thought I'd commandeer one of the conference rooms. Leviathan will need a couch, anyway."

Michael offered his arm, well aware of eyes on the both of them as they moved out of the office and into the greater part of the palace, Alastor's arm tucked into his arm. He sensed the Grand Duke was amused rather than perturbed by their height difference.

"You enjoy creating a stir."

"Of course. It's my right."

Alastor looked wistful for a moment. "Lucifer hated the limelight. He hated attracting attention. But he did hide it behind spectacle."

"I'm not surprised. He was never meant for leadership. When you're made for a purpose, we tend to be uncomfortable in positions that go against that purpose."

"Imagine what Hell would be if you had fallen instead," said Alastor, very softly.

"That would have been very bad for everyone," Michael agreed amiably. "I wouldn't have lost that war."

Alastor blew his breath between his teeth. "And isn't that interesting."

Michael shrugged. "It's not that deep. There was always going to be a Hell and a King of Hell."

"Was there really always going to be a Hell?" Alastor wondered. "Would there have been a Hell if humans were not given the gift of free will? It's almost as if certain things were foreordained."

"I'm not privy to the building plans of Creation and I cannot say beyond that."

"It doesn't concern you? That you are just a puppet?"

"In that case, we all are, and I am no more special than a mortal human soul born on Earth. Alastor, you need to understand that we all act within the strict guidelines of how we were created. Even Samael. He was the most powerful of us and the most kind. This is a contradictory state. Being kind is detrimental to being powerful."

"It sounds to me that you are making excuses for why you cannot be kind."

"No, I learned to be kind, but this is a state that I can put aside because it's not conducive to my duty."

"And it all boils down to duty for you." Alastor stopped, closing his eyes. Michael stopped with him. "I don't know if I can trust you. You would put your duty above m- our marriage."

"I have sworn many oaths, and I will keep them all."

"All of them? Even if your oath to our marriage goes against your oaths to Heaven?"

Michael didn't skip a beat before responding. "There were no contrasting oaths. I will walk with you

and

I will be Heaven's sword."

"I don't know how you can do that." Alastor sighed. He looked tired to Michael's eyes even as he rubbed the bridge of his nose above his plain pince-nez.

"As long as our goals align, and they do, there will not be any cause for concern."

That really didn't look like it reassured Alastor one bit and that left Michael wondering as they entered the conference room.

*

The meeting with the Sins went well. He assured them of his intentions to prevent another war and made vague references to his and Gabriel's successful investigation thus far.

He even managed to dodge Leviathan's loving embrace. He'd seen what she could do with bosom of hers.

*

"He's not even a blood relative! How can you put so much trust in him!"

Michael pulled Alastor to a stop as they neared the parlour where luncheon was to be held. They were a little late. Asmodeus and Leviathan were catching up on gossip some ways behind them, the Goetia king Stolas had his hand through Asmodeus' arm, so he wasn't sure if they caught any of that. The passing servants and stationed guards were studiously not meeting Alastor's eyes, which were squeezed shut.

Well.

Michael patted Alastor's hand then removed it from his arm. He moved to continue on into the room without Alastor but he was suddenly gripped tightly around the arm.

"No. Don't. You like causing trouble."

"No, I like poking at troubles. You don't know what needs to be fixed unless you make a stir."

"It will blow over. It's just a phase."

"Is it?"

"Why do you trust him more than grandmother? He's only your father's husband!"

"Alastor was handpicked by my father and he has sacrificed everything for this family." Charlotte's clear tones rang round, even as Michael took another step. He heard the group of Asmodeus, Stolas and Leviathan arrive and also heard their keen silence.

"And we don't speak of your grandmother."

"Why? She loved Lucifer for ten thousand years and we put her aside for the man he was married to for fifty?"

Michael stepped into the room.

Charlotte and Dion looked like twins, they were so alike in height, colouring and features it was almost difficult to reconcile that they were actually mother and son. Right now they stood face to face in the middle of the room. There were guests scattered about in various phases of attempting to blend into the furniture or pretending that the royal family wasn't having an absolute breakdown right then and there. There was food and drink scattered across the costly rug on the floor. The doors to the garden were open, and by which Michael assumed that notable absences had made a quick exit.

Only Gabriel and Raphael noted his entry. Raphael had been out of his seat, as if ready to intervene, and upon Michael's entry into the room, sat back down. Gabriel remained standing, eyes watchful.

"Yes. Where is Lilith?"

Charlotte and Dion snapped their heads in his direction but it was Dion's expression that interested him the most. He was still very young, not even close to adulthood despite that his voice had already broken and settled. He might have some more growing to do, but for now he looked like an ungainly colt to Michael, all long limbs and elbows and knees. The only reason his clothes fit well was because his family could afford his upkeep.

"I had thought I would see her scowling face when I arrived yesterday and here we are, still bereft of her lovely presence."

Charlotte recovered first. She seemed to have forgotten where she and her son were having their fight. "Mom is having a sabbatical. For her health."

"Is that so?" Michael stopped a distance so he wouldn't need to crane his head to look either Charlotte or Dion in the eye. "But it seems that your son has dealings with his grandmother. Isn't that right, Dion?"

"And what if I have?" Michael liked that Dion didn't back down. He stared down at Michael, his hands clenched at his sides. "She's my grandmother, my blood. I can go see her if I want to."

"Dion, you've been leaving the Ring without my permission? And don't you dare say your mama has given you permission because I know that Vaggie has not."

"No, unlike the rest of this family, she cares about me. She comes here to see me."

If Charlotte was angry then, she was furious now. Her form slipped and her demonic aspect emerged with tall horns from her brow and a long black tail whipping out. Her eyes had gone inverse. No longer were they kind and golden but they burned red like the Hell she ruled.

Dion stepped back but he wasn't her target.

"Alastor!"

The Grand Duke appeared at the doorway, his hands resting lightly on his cane. "My queen."

"Don't give me that. You told me she couldn't come to Pride."

"That was what I thought the spell would do. I last checked it six months ago and it was still in place and functioning as expected."

"Mom? You were the one who made her stay away?"

Charlie clutched Dion by the shoulders. "Lilith is not who you think she is. Whatever she's told you, it's all lies. She's the one who caused my father's death."

Michael was ready to fly at that very moment. Holy power suffused his being opening his eyes, the many eyes about his being. The one over his head, the ones at his shoulders and hands, and the ones on his wings. He was ready to lift up into the sky to seek out Lilith of Hell and with his blade, he would teach her to meddle in affairs beyond her for the last time.

Alastor's hand on shoulder grounded him in more ways than one. It was a light touch, and one that should burn his hand, but still he held onto Michael until he pushed back all aspects of his angelic might. Alastor dropped his hand, slipping it into his pocket. No one else noticed, their attention on Michael, but Michael noticed.

Asmodeus cleared his throat. "We're all feeling big emotions here. It would be a good idea to go somewhere more private to continue this very important conversation."

Charlotte lifted her chin. "There's nothing else to discuss."

"I don't believe you," Dion hissed. His eyes were wet. "Grandmother's the only one who listens to me. She says that Alastor is not who he is and that we shouldn't trust him."

"Lilith will say anything to squirm her way back into this family," said Charlotte. "And I'm tired of my mother hurting me and I will not let her hurt my children. You are not to see her ever again. This is your queen's decree."

Dion reeled back as if slapped, but he regained his footing in the next breath. "If speaking with my grandmother makes me a traitor, then I guess you had better slap irons on me now."

"I'll do you one better, you're grounded! Go to your room, young man!"

The young prince glared at his mother then spun on his heel and stomped out of the room.

In the silence that followed, Charlotte released her hold on her demonic aspect and buried her face in her hands.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," said Alastor.

"It's not your fault, Alastor." Charlotte lifted her head, smiling through her tears. "Go get your hand looked at, old man."

Alastor huffed. "I'm younger than you." He bowed. "My queen." He left the room.

Michael exchanged a glance with Gabriel and Raphael and gave them a nod. "My pardon as well."

Outside in the hallway, Stolas had stopped Alastor. "I would be most happy to look over the spell with you. Bindings are not my specialty but I am a quick study as you know, old chap."

"Thank you, I appreciate the offer. Perhaps we could look it over this afternoon?"

"I would be delighted." Stolas bowed then inclined his head as he passed Michael. "Your highness."

"Your majesty." Michael waited for him to go by before catching up with Alastor.

"It's just a small burn," Alastor murmured. "Nothing to be concerned about."

"Of course not. If it were at all serious, I would be dragging Raphael with me. I'm sure I can manage to slap a plaster on your boo boo."

Alastor sighed. "The more I know you, the more I come to the conclusion that you are the largest troll in Creation."

"You can't prove anything." Michael stopped a demon in the servants livery. "Please organise a lunch for two in the Grand Duke's room. Thank you." He let the demon go, glad for having all his limbs after talking with the Prince of the Hosts. "Where's Nelphus? He's normally glued to your shadow."

"He had the rest of the day off after tending to his morning duties. I believe he's taking the young demon he's courting to a club in the Lust ring."

"Then we truly do have privacy."

Alastor raised a brow at him at that. Michael grinned.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It was nice being alone for once. There had been souls all around them since they met earlier the day in Alastor's office. Michael had never known a place as busy and loud as the royal palace.

Alastor's rooms felt like an island oasis.

Michael cleaned up Alastor's hand just as lunch arrived. Apparently word had gotten around and there was a larger than normal bowl of fruit. The smell of seared meat came from Alastor's covered plate, indicating a hearty meat heavy dish as always. Michael tried to subtly discern what it was that Alastor was lacking and as far as he could tell, Alastor was a healthy Sinner demon. He was a little on the gaunt side but Michael couldn't say if that was his natural state or an aspect of the starved condition Raphael diagnosed him as. At least, until he applied some angelic healing on his hand.

That was when Alastor's soul stirred, reacting to his power like a sluggish starved snake. It only took a heartbeat to heal the burn, not enough time for the hungry void in Alastor to sink into him, but even then, Michael wasn't concerned. It seemed to him that Alastor wasn't even aware of the dark void. Instead he played with the little golden snake that twined around his uninjured hand. Michael chose not to examine the dark void just now. Alastor didn't seem to be in a dire condition.

"I am sorry, darling. I did mean to return you to Charlie just now."

The little snake appeared to purr, which as far as Michael knew, was not an aspect of serpent physiology but what did he know?

"And done." Michael gave the newly healed skin a critical look before returning Alastor's hand to him. "It might feel a little sore."

"I would have been better by tomorrow."

"Thank you, o prince. I am agog with your generosity."

Alastor smiled a little. "Thank you, o prince. You are generous beyond words. You really are a rascal."

"And you can't prove anything."

Alastor snorted lightly. He stood and offered his hand to Michael. They had lunch over some light conversation and Michael tried to be as civilised as possible.

"Why fruit?" Alastor asked.

"Well, fruit is delicious. A single peach has a wide range of flavours. It can be tart, sweet and acidic all in one bite, and it's beautifully perfumed."

Alastor pointed with his knife. "And yet here you are, biting into a coconut with your bare teeth."

"How else is one supposed to break into a coconut?"

"There's a method that involves absolutely no teeth whatsoever."

"How dull." He did use a spoon to scoop out the flesh and it wasn't like he just splashed the water all over the table. "I do like meat, but it's always a choice between something tasty and something that's

very

delicious."

Alastor cut him a slice of his steak and held it out on his fork. "This is an excellent piece of marbled beef. Tell me that it doesn't melt into your mouth."

Michael wasn't sure if he was supposed to take it with his fingers but he leaned forward and closed his mouth around Alastor's fork. He could tell he surprised him and there was perhaps something else in his eye as Michael drew back, something he couldn't recognise. He drew back, letting the heat of his mouth melt the well seasoned beef and barely chewed the morsel before swallowing. "Interesting how it's succulent without being greasy."

"Yes, it's particularly good. Would you like more?"

Michael considered this. "One more." This time Alastor took care to spread jus over the meat and spear a small bit of potato to go with the forkful before feeding him once more. Again, Michael saw that look in Alastor's eyes and his Adam's apple bobbed as Michael leaned back. He watched Alastor as he seemed to struggle with some emotion, hiding his thoughts behind the motions of feeding himself.

"I would accompany you with King Stolas but I have a prior commitment."

"More investigating?"

"No, I'll need to wait for other leads to appear." Michael scraped the white flesh, enjoying the succulent tenderness of the young coconut. He'd have liked an older nut too, they had a greater chance of being sprouted. Now that was a delicacy. "I offered to help a sad young man in the garden with his homework."

"You mean Hector? Why was he sad?"

"It seems that the guard did not appreciate the trebuchet. Very plebeian of them." Michael tutted.

"Poor Hector. I try to spend some time with him each week, but he and Merope tend to get overlooked." Alastor stopped, covering his face in his hands. "Oh Merope. I forgot to talk to her today. She's going to be so upset with me."

Michael recalled the little sprite of a child with Charlotte's skin and eyes and Vagatha's hair. "Not enough time today to visit her?"

"I'll see what I can do after the spellwork with Stolas. That shouldn't take long but Stolas has the patience and stamina to play around with spellwork for hours. I'll stop in after lunch and apologise."

"That sounds sensible. I'm sure she'll understand."

"She's the equivalent of four years old. She won't under the slightest. But better I see her for a few minutes than not at all."

That was the last that Michael saw of Alastor for the rest of the day until evening. He found Hector in his work space with rolls of plans and hope in his eyes. Alastor wasn't overstating that the younger children tended to be overlooked. Hector looked very happy that there was an adult who was willing to help with his interests.

"Grand-père tries but he doesn't really have an engineer brain, you know? He helped with the trebuchet but mostly I got Dion or Adelaide to help with the construction."

"And your parents?"

"Oh Mom and Mama don't understand engineering either. Everyone helped when I was into bees but that was years ago."

"You should talk to Gabriel about bees. He loves insects."

Hector looked up, wrinkling his nose. "I was a kid when I liked bees."

"Ah. My mistake."

They worked on translating the schematics to a working scale model that afternoon. Michael plied himself to measuring and cutting craft sticks into the appropriate shapes as Hector diligently glued everything together. The only moment that Michael allowed himself the use of an angelic miracle was when he needed the glue to cure faster, and lo, it did with a snap of his fingers. Hector giggled when he tested the now solid little model, then they worked on the torsion engine and by the time Hector had to return to the nursery they were able to launch a pencil. It bounced off a block of wood and Michael frowned, sure that it would stick into it, but Hector was happy enough. He clutched the little model to his chest and ran off to his rooms before his minders could find him and Michael went to find his brothers.

He'd suspected that Uriel had returned when he didn't see them at lunch, and this was confirmed when he came across Gabriel and Raphael.

"You survived the infamous Hector," said Gabriel.

"He's a delight." Michael looked around and snapped his fingers, creating a shield of privacy within the room. "So. What do we think of Dion?"

Raphael appeared to have imbibed enough coffee for the day because he now only had water by his side. "Now, I'm just a simple healer but it seems to me that someone's playing him like a harp."

"A little too obvious about hating Alastor if you ask me," said Gabriel. "A little too vocal, a little too loud."

"Very theatrical," Michael agreed. "So that's the distraction, what's the actual hand doing in the shadows?"

"Anything from this spell holding Lilith prisoner?"

Michael shook his head. "I haven't seen Alastor since lunch."

Gabriel stood. "I think I should go offer my services now that we're free from socialising." At Michael's raised brow, Gabriel elaborated. "We've been sitting in on Charlotte's more high level petitions. Her judgement is very good but it's clear that Alastor is the power behind policies. I wouldn't call her a figurehead but Alastor does the majority of the workload."

"So if you want to destabilise the ruling structure, you focus your attack on Alastor."

"It's very neat of Hell to organise their structure with a clear weakness." Gabriel raised a brow. "Just saying."

"I've yet to see any evidence of the so-called massing of troops."

"Good thing I've got an invitation from Satan to tour Wrath." Gabriel held up the red emblazoned missive. "I mean, it's addressed to you, but."

"Mail fraud? Gabriel, it's like I don't know you."

"I didn't open it."

Michael took the heavy cardstock and slid the invitation out. It was very official and it said exactly what Gabriel said it held. "And the other Sins?"

"I suspect they're incoming. Satan's just the first off the mark."

Tapping the invitation against his lips, Michael raised a brow at Raphael. "Are you going back soon?"

"I think I'd like to stay. Charlotte seems happy for the attention."

"And Vagatha?"

"Cautious. I think there's too much happening too quickly."

"Understandable."

"For now, we have dinner with the family in about half an hour."

Michael looked down at his clothes and snapped his fingers, adopting a slightly more elaborate uniform to suit the occasion.

Alastor wasn't at dinner, and neither was Stolas, so Michael wasn't too concerned. Gabriel had wandered away after their conversation and also showed no sign of returning. For the lack of anything better to do, he decided to join Raphael in viewing the portraits in what Michael thought of as the family hallway. This was the hallway where Michael and Gabriel had been led to Queen Charlotte's sitting room the previous day.

Michael followed his brother, glancing each way at the portraits that lined either side of the hallway. There were various portraits of Charlotte and Vagatha, of the children in various stages of growth. Alastor was in some of them, a sombre figure in black looming in the background. Michael did stop at one of Alastor and Dion, the latter possibly around Merope's current age and being carried in Alastor's arms. The young Dion was grinning widely and there may have been a slight smile on Alastor's face.

Michael turned his head, viewing the subject matter of the portraits with more interest. Of the group portraits with the children, Alastor always had a hand on a beaming Dion's shoulder. It was only the newest family portrait that they stood quite apart from each other.

Sensing Raphael's presence at his back he gestured at his findings. "It seems that they used to be close."

Raphael gave the subject matter a slow nod. "Another clue for great detective Michael."

"Don't mock."

"Who's mocking? Come on. I have another clue for you."

Michael followed Raphael as they went further down the hall. "I asked Queen Vagatha, who, by the way, asked all of us to call her Vaggie, yes, very casual I know. But anyway, I asked her if there were any portraits of our brother and his groom. She said they were past the sitting room. They're hung there because Alastor doesn't have a reason to go past that door. Even seeing Lucifer in paint caused him such pain. Here we are."

There was his twin. King Lucifer's brilliant charisma shined bright as his porcelain white skin. His grin was wide and shark-like, and his eyes narrow with bright eyed self-assuredness.

Alastor stood behind him, his smile equally wide and toothy, his teeth golden and sharp and. He wore his hair longer and his jacket was a flamboyant red.

The portrait was signed with Lucifer's own seal.

"Don't they look alive?" Raphael murmured. "Our brother looks like he can step out of that painting and start slinging insults and fireballs."

"Alastor says that he missed me." Michael wondered if that moment that he pushed Samael to Fall was the last moment that he had seen his twin in the flesh. It probably was. He wasn't thinking much beyond the righteous fury that enveloped his being at the time.

"I wouldn't be surprised. I miss him too. The ghost of him, at least."

Michael looked up, startled.

"Samael died the moment he fell, Michael. I think you know that."

Michael nodded slowly. "I do."

"Good. Now stop thinking of him as Samael but as Lucifer. Look at that portrait and tell me what's missing from Alastor."

Michael turned back to the portrait, examining it closely. "He looks alive, like you said. He

has

spent two hundred years grieving."

"Look again."

Michael looked. Then he looked again.

*

Alastor didn't return to his room that night. A query with the guards confirmed that all three were still in conference so Michael wasn't concerned that Alastor had run off into the night. He wandered the halls again, quieter now that most of the palace had gone to their beds. He thought about visiting Sa- Lucifer but decided against it when he came across a music room. There was a covered piano in the corner and a disused bar, so perhaps it was more of a dance room perhaps. Michael wondered what the purpose of this room was when there were dedicated halls and ballrooms for social gathering.

The piano sounded in tune when he lifted the cover and pressed a key. He let the note ring out through the room then sat on the bench. He mused over the last couple of days, turning over the information that he had gathered, the clues that Raphael so disparagingly referred to.

Michael wasn't made for this. This was more Gabriel's specialty, Gabriel and Raguel, Raguel who remained missing, out of his twin's reach.

Or so Jeremiel claimed.

Then there was Lilith and Dion. If Lilith's goal was to destabilise Hell, which Michael doubted because her daughter and her family would be in the firing line, then she couldn't have picked a more pointed weapon then the grandchild that Alastor loved. Oh he loved all of them, of that Michael had no doubt, but the one with Lucifer's likeness had been the favourite for a time.

What a cruel and heartless weapon.

Michael was impressed even as he hated the cruelty.

Raphael's addition this evening only further muddied the waters. Michael even wondered if there was any relevance this new revelation had to current events.

Speaking of which, there had been the question of what blew him off course all those centuries ago. Michael had run the simulations in his head over and over. He could fly into the heart of a hurricane and come out without a feather out of place, but a random gust of wind could alter his flightpath? No, that too had to be taken into account.

Lastly, there was no power in the cosmos that could kill Lucifer. Michael had only intended to take him into custody. Death had not been part of the plan. It never had been, and never would have been, if only for that battle.

A sudden movement at the corner of his eye roused him from his thoughts. Something dark scampered away out of the room. Michael considered giving chase but instead waited to see what would come of it and perhaps his patience paid off for once as Alastor appeared in the doorway, dressed in sleeping clothes and a plush dressing gown. He blinked at Michael, sitting in the dark, then went to join him.

"You weren't in the room," he explained. There seemed to be something more that he wanted to say but that was left hanging in the air. Alastor looked tired and there was a slight anxious air to him.

"I decided to explore a bit and found a nice quiet spot to think. Was that your thing that I almost killed?"

"A little shadow minion. It doesn't  have life of its own but its death would have given me the same information."

Michael held out a hand to the Grand Duke who took it and joined him at the piano.

Alastor sat down the proper way, facing the instrument, while Michael had his back to it. Alastor rested his fingers above the lid, tapping lightly against the wood. "Do you play?"

"Badly! My instrument is the trumpet. Well, most brass, actually, but the trumpet specifically."

"The trumpet." Alastor huffed in amusement. "That's playing to type. Do you play more songs that doomsday trumpet in a minor key?"

"A major key, thank you very much." Michael got to his feet and summoned his trumpet into his hand. "Care for a duet?"

"That depends." Alastor flicked up the lid with sure hands and rested his long fingers on the keys. "Let's see if you can keep up."

He went straight into a fast paced song. Alastor was clearly improvising but Michael's practised ear detected a pattern. He tapped his foot to keep time and came in with a big, loud blast of brassy tunes, making his own song dance to Alastor's steps. He saw Alastor's eyes widen, then a slow smile stretched his mouth and away they went.

Where Alastor went high, he went low and melodic, and where Alastor went low, that's when he blared notes in rapid succession. He repeated notes after Alastor and took the lead for a moment, adding a joyous trill to their already complicated melody. They finished together with discordant flourish, and they both laughed.

Michael wasn't sure when was the last time he'd had so much fun. Music was always just another thing he could do, the language of Heaven started out as wordless songs, but when was the last time he just played? Michael couldn't say, just like he couldn't say why the joy that ran through his veins made him cup Alastor's chin and pull him in to kiss.

Perhaps he overstepped, because Alastor went still, but that too passed and Alastor returned his kiss. It was tame as kisses went, Michael supposed. They just let their mouths dance against each other, a caress that didn't go much deeper than that. He finished with a playful peck to the side of Alastor's mouth.

"Are you ready for bed?"

Alastor smiled. It was a little uncertain, a little lopsided, but it was a smile. "I am."

It was just sleep, of course. Michael watched him as Alastor closed his eyes and dropped into a restful slumber. Michael ran a curious thumb along the length of one of his antlers, feeling the ridges against his thumb, the sharpness of one point before withdrawing his hand.

The Alastor of now had a large and impressive rack of antlers. It was not unusual for a powerful individual to display more of their mein than normal, but the question that Michael had was why he seemed to be more whole when his power wasn't as potent.

*

Michael would never admit to sleeping. He was meditating on the mysteries of the universe and sometimes he was so engrossed in those mysteries that he could be caught unawares. He was jostled out of sleep when a small body flung themself up onto the bed and jumped on Alastor. Michael, laying over the sheets beside his husband, was almost pushed out of the bed.

There was a small child sitting on his chest and glaring at Alastor. Alastor was up, of course, no one could sleep through that tiny assault. She was a slight thing with silver hair and Charlie's eyes, quite adorable despite the pinched look of pique on her little face.

"Merope?" Alastor blinked, hands automatically going to steady the little girl.

"You didn't come read me to bed again."

"Oh Merope, I'm so sorry."

"Adeblade said you got married and that's why you couldn't read to me, but you said you'd read to me last night."

"My little love, I'm so sorry. I tried. I really tried."

Large droplets of water began to form at the corners of her eyes. "You don't love me anymore, Pear Pear."

Michael was frankly impressed. He had never heard of Hell's Grand Duke cave as quickly as he did just then. Alastor sat up and wrapped Merope in his arms while whispering promises against her sweet little head. Little arms wrapped around Alastor's neck and loud sniffles came from the vicinity of Alastor's armpit.

Unable to catch Alastor's eye, Michael slipped off the bed and went into the outer room. By his estimates it was still before the time Alastor normally woke up, which meant that it was very likely before it was time for the little Merope to wake up too. Chances were that there was an anxious minder who was looking for the little princess now.

It was early enough that the guard at Alastor's chamber door hadn't arrived at their station as Alastor only required a guard at his chambers when he wasn't there. It was probably early enough that Nelphus himself wasn't up yet. Michael looked out the doorway into the hall and even his keen hearing couldn't detect any anxious adult in the area. Merope probably snuck out without alerting her minders and made her way across the palace without any of the guards on duty noticing.

Michael greatly approved.

Still, someone had to be notified before the whole palace went into an uproar.

Slipping out, Michael closed the door behind him, spelling the knob shut for only Alastor's touch to open and he went out into the palace, making his way down the passages towards main halls. He almost missed it, so intent on his purpose.

Out from a closed door that was not in the residential part of the palace was Dion's voice.

"- how much longer I can maintain the binds remotely. I need to go down to Envy and enforce them in person." A pause. "I've thought of a way. I've created a distraction. No one will notice my absence. I'm supposed to be grounded, what you said worked." Another pause. "I'll be careful. You're sure Vox won't confess? Good. He's been acting strange. I don't trust him. Good luck, Grandmother. We'll see you in your proper place. Mom will understand. She'll understand once the usurper is dead."

Michael was gone from the door, invisible to all eyes that would look for him. It was a familiar condition. He was used to going invisible amongst mortals and it was no different in Hell, watching while the wicked go about their tasks. He watched now as Dion stepped out of the room. The young man looked around then with a snap of his fingers he opened a portal. It looked like it opened outside of the gates of the palace. He stepped through and the portal winked out behind him.

Michael teleported with a thought, appearing at Gabriel's side where he stood on the roof of the palace and looked over the garden in the dark red light of the Pride ring.

Gabriel didn't appear to be surprised. "Taxiarch? You have orders?"

"Messenger, I need you to follow Dion."

Gabriel lifted his head, the glowing white presence of Heaven up high in the sky above them. The pentagram seal over Hell was equally visible. "It's going to be a dark day, Taxiarch. You've got your own duties."

"I do," Michael whispered, suddenly struck. He thought he had more time. "I hear the word of Prophecy."

"If Hell falls, Heaven will follow."

Michael rested his hand on his sword. "I understand."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Michael wasted no time after that. He launched into the sky, deliberately cloaking in the dark. Gabriel lifted off after him, darkness also wrapping around his form. Michael saw Gabriel's quarry nimbly avoid the guard patrols as he made his way to a thicket where he hid his vehicle. After that, Michael lost sight of him as he left him to Gabriel and he soared higher into the sky.

It didn't take long to reach Pentagram City. After that, it didn't take long to crash into V Tower.

At some point he ceased to mask his presence and he became a bright streak, a burning arrow that arched into the very top of the tower. He burst through a wall, his sword out as he landed in a kneeling position and he rose, his blue eyes burning with his power. Outside, the city shook from the shockwave. The top floor of the tower seemed empty, as if they were only used for entertaining.

Alarms began to ring, waking the sleeping inhabitants.

Michael walked forward, his burning blade awake and alive in his hand.

There were no guards of note. The first demons on the scene backpedaled out of the room once they laid eyes on him. They weren't the Overlord Sinners that were the four most powerful beings in this tower. Michael followed them, watched as they piled into an elevator and rapidly descended the tower.

Michael had a more direct path. He cast out his mind, searching for the demon that insulted Alastor on their wedding day and found him several floors down, a sluggish mind rapidly awakening as he was made aware of the situation. Michael looked up and found a camera turned right in his direction.

Michael smiled. He reached forth a hand. "Come here," he commanded. It was filled with his aspect of command.

Vox obeyed. He had no choice. There was an arc of lightning and there he was, his eyes narrowed and his teeth bared in defiance even as he stood in his underwear. "Big man with his big sword, you don't scare me." Never mind the irony that Michael was actually shorter than him.

"Don't I?" Michael grasped him by the throat. His wings flapped once, and they were in the air, bursting through the roof of the tower, creating a different hole from which he entered. "I don't scare you? What a strange concept. I scare my brethren simply by looking in their direction. I am the Sword of Heaven and Taxiarch of the Host."

Vox, to his credit, didn't scream. He gripped Michael's wrist, his legs kicking as Michael lifted them higher and higher. "What are you going to do? Make me hurt? Got news for you, buddy, I hurt everyday. Are you going to end me? I'm already fucking dead. Fuck my life, eh?"

"And yet here you are, at my very mercy. Tell me, Sinner. What do you know about Lilith's plans?"

Vox blazed with electricity, his stupid light projection face flickering as he screamed. The electricity settled. "I can't tell you," he panted. The hands holding on to Michael's wrist spasmed. "I can't tell you and you need to fucking know."

Michael stopped his ascent. He hovered in the air buoyed by his beating wings. He frowned. He could smell it now, the compulsion that was wrapped around Vox. "Go on, talk around it."

Vox kicked his feet once more before hanging lax from Michael's hand. Despite his bravado, he looked absolutely terrified to Michael's eyes. Yet he still maintained complete control of his composure. "You know the fucking feeling you get when the guy you detest most in life is the linchpin to the who shebang? You fucking know that he needs to get off his bony ass to do his job but he's fucking trapped in the past? You work and you work and you work on him but he still got none of the fire he needs to for the fight ahead, and believe me, you can't fight if you haven't got fire in your balls and that queen sure as hell hasn't any fire worth a damn."

"Until we were married and you made him so angry he threw a punch."

"You know the last time he got angry? This guy used to tear the city apart on a weekly basis and now he's some half-alive zombie. He needs to be up and ready for the fight but he just too busy being a depressed fuck to give a damn about the rest of us."

"I thought you didn't care if you lived or died, demon."

"Yeah, well, I got people I care for, okay? She wa-" Electricity buzzed harmlessly over Michael's hand but Vox's body spasmed and shook. The light projection of his face flickered then went dark. It was dark only for a moment before Vox shook himself back to consciousness. His eyes looked unfocused in the projection and a line of drool ran down his projected face.

By then Michael was already making a calm descent back down to the tower. They hadn't been in the sky for long but there was a crowd gathered on the penthouse floor. Michael gave grudging credit to the other Vees. They were gathered in various states of undress but they were gathered and the tall one with the arms reached out for Vox but he was batted away. "No time for that, you need to give him the crystal."

The tall moth demon narrowed his eyes at Michael. "If you say so, amor." But it was one of the women who stepped forward, summoning a purple crystal and holding it out.

"Everything you need is on here," she said.

Michael took it. "Get dressed," he said to Vox. "You’re coming with me to the palace."

"Hey man, do you think you could tone down the light show? It's like, harshing the vibe." The fourth Vee made zen hand gestures in such a way that Michael knew wouldn't endear her to inhabitants of the Jade Heaven.

"Knock it off, Vitality." Vox made a slashing movement at his throat. "Yeah, I'm gonna get dressed. I mean, if you came at a reasonable hour, we wouldn't have this delay."

Michael allowed his grumblings, watching as the Overlord wandered away supported by the tall one.

"So, like, you want coffee?" The demon who handed him the crystal asked, her finger twisting around a strand of her hair.

"No." He looked at the crystal in his hand. It was as long as his hand, and broken off at the base. It was a clean break, a smooth angle that looked like it broke along the crystalline structure. He ran his bare finger along the broken base, feeling the minute ridges and bumps of the surface, his sensitivity so fine that he knew the average human wouldn't be able to detect the rough surface. The rest of the crystal was polished smooth, or seemed like it. It was tapered at the tip, ending in a four angled point, and was much heavier than it looked. Michael couldn't detect any magic off it, even though he instinctively knew that it was made from magic.

The two women were still talking and a part of him was paying attention though it seemed that they were saying nothing of consequence. He got the impression that they tolerated rather than actually liked each other.

"You know, I bet he doesn't even know what she's planning," said the first woman when she noticed that she didn't have his focus.

"Vox can't say anything about the deal he's got with her, but y'know, we're not stupid. Clean living is clean thinking."

Michael swept his sword across the air, making the women jump back. Ignoring them, he rested the crystal on the palm of his hand and infused it with power.

"Show me," he commanded, speaking in his many voices. The crystal lifted from his palm and floated in the air. It showed time backwards, of the pocket it was kept, then Vox handing the crystal to the woman. Then the crystal exchanged hands, Vox receiving the crystal from a demon with marine features, then a webbed hand as the crystal was broken off. Then Michael finally saw why Raguel had been so difficult for Jeremiel to locate.

"Oh hells," he heard Vox say as he came back to the penthouse floor. "I think we just made him mad."

*

The palace was in a quiet uproar when he returned, Vox under his arm like a recalcitrant football. Passing Queensguards and servants barely gave Michael and his guest as they stepped into the entry hall a glance before scurrying along, looking under bushes and in vases for a possibly missing little girl. Michael sighed, knowing that he was partly to blame for this chaos (some would say "fully to blame" if he'd thought to inform someone before haring off into the wee hours of the morning). He reached out and snagged a passing guard. It wasn't even four thirty, so it was likely that no one had thought to check the Grand Duke.

"Is Nelphus up?"

The guard gave him a blank look, probably wondering why he was being asked such an inane question.

"Go find Nelphus and tell him to knock on the Grand Duke's door. Nelphus won't be able to open it." Michael paused, still seeing the confusion set into the guard's features. "Princess Merope woke up the Grand Duke. So go find Nelphus. Tell Nelphus I need the Grand Duke up and dressed as soon as possible. Go."

The guard saluted. "Yes, your highness!"

Michael watched him go, shaking his head. "Green," he murmured.

"That's what you get for hiring young hellborn," said Vox. "You want experience, you get Sinners." Michael had set him on his feet and had a firm grip of his arm.

"I'll pass that on to the captain." Michael lifted his face. "Raphael, I need you."

And his brother was there, steaming mug of coffee and all.

"Hello," said the Healer. "I see you have a friend." He peered into Vox's light projection face. "Oh that's a nasty deal. Might I suggest not doing that?"

"Oh thanks, Saint. I'll keep that in mind for the next soul binding deal that I regret."

"Good. See that you do."

"Raphael, I need you to keep an eye on him. I need to go to Heaven. Gabriel may need you down here."

Raphael paused. His mug, which said "Keep Calm And... Okay Not That Calm" with an image of a flat line, was half-way up to his mouth. "Oh?" he said with deceptive calmness.

Michael dropped the crystal into the mug. "Jeremiel has known where Raguel was all this time. I'm going to speak with her."

"And you will be back?"

"Yes." Michael moved to go when Raphael stopped him.

"And I can promise your husband that?"

Michael tilted his head, confused. "Yes. Of course."

"Okay. Have fun? Try not to burn the place down?"

Michael nodded, then he was out the door and in the sky. He opened the portal and then he was home, flying above in the cool winds that blew over Heaven. He welcomed the skies like an old friend but something felt wrong, like the pristine white and gold of Heaven no longer felt like home.

Perhaps it didn't.

Perhaps home was now beside the Grand Duke, to whom he had sworn to walk beside.

Michael had never belonged to anybody before, not even Samael and definitely not Lucifer. It was a novel feeling. By vow and alliance, Alastor was his, and he was going to keep it that way.

Pushing all thoughts of Alastor to the back of his mind, he pulled in his wings. Michael razored through the sky, swiftly slicing his way to Jeremiel's seat, where she ruled over Judgement in the Eternal City. He moved quickly, quicker than word could get around. He needed to take his sister unawares. He might even have a chance to ask her some questions before he ruled his judgement upon her.

Bursting through the Hall of Judgement, a crowd of Winners and angels scattering out of his way, he slammed right into Jeremiel. A lesser angel would have tumbled and rolled, but not Michael. He flared his wings, halting his momentum on the direct spot he intended, leaving Jeremiel stunned and gasping as she hung from his grasp.

"Michael, have you gone mad?"

"Perhaps, sister. Then again, aren't we all." He paused, examining her. He could hear the gathering of guards at his back, could hear them hesitate as they saw who it was that held the archangel Jeremiel captive. Jeremiel herself looked unsure, slightly scared, and behind that fear was a grain of guilt.

"Tell me, Jeremiel. Tell me again where Raguel is."

Her eyes went wide as she realised that he knew. "Michael, you don't understand. This is necessary, it's a restoration of order. With Lilith in charge, we would have someone we know we can trust. We can't trust Samael's family, they're loose cannons, all of them. We could barely trust Samael to remain where he was."

Michael lifted her up so he could look her in the face. "So you listened to Lilith's lies. When I went down, I saw not a scheming pit of vipers but a family struggling to find themself in the aftermath of the death of a beloved father and husband. Tell me. Were you involved in Samael's death also?"

"Michael, I'm telling the truth. He was never the target. He must have woven a protection over the demon. He took the full blow that was meant for the demon."

A slow and steady breath escaped Michael's parted lips. "This was never about destabalising Hell's government. This was personal from the beginning. You're a fool, Jeremiel. You got involved Lilith's personal jealousies. You didn’t serve Heaven. You served her."

"I passed judgement, Taxiarch! That is my purpose!"

"Judgement had already been passed on Alastor Morningstar. You overstepped your boundaries, Judge."

Fear was fully blooming in Jeremiel's face. Her expression was unbecoming of a high servant of Heaven.

"Taxiarch, please, have mercy!"

Emily flew in, softly landing, a dove to his eagle. She ran the rest of the way, her hair flowing behind her.

"Michael, please let her go."

"Our young sister begs for you, Jeremiel. Do you want to tell her what you did to Raguel?" Michael turned to look at Emily. "Do you want to know what has been done to Raguel, Emily? I assume that you're innocent of this conspiracy, if only because your name has never come up."

"What do you mean? What about Raguel? You said he was walking the Earth." This last was addressed at Jeremiel, still held aloft by Michael's wings.

"Go on," urged Michael, his voice soft. "Tell her."

"I...I've trapped Raguel in Hell."

Emily gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Michael nodded. "That's good. You can tell her the rest. Where in the seven Rings is he?"

"In Envy," Jeremiel moaned. "I trapped him under the oceans of Envy."

"Now tell her what Lilith is using him for."

Jeremiel struggled. "I don't know about any of that. I left him safe in his bounds. He was safe in his cage!"

"He's a battery," said Michael. "Lilith has been using him to power her spells. That was how she pushed me off course. That's how she powered a blow hard enough to kill Lucifer. And now, she is pushing to finish the task of killing Alastor Morningstar. You allowed this to happen, Jeremiel."

Uriel and Phanuel finally arrived. They took in the situation. Older and more experienced than Emily, Uriel stepped forward. "You are certain, Taxiarch?"

Michael watched Jeremiel's face. She was now grasping at his tunic, pleading, begging. "Please, let me help fix this. Please, let me repent. I can repent! I can!"

"When I was with the Metatron, I asked how far I should go to protect Samael's family. I was told to go as far as I could. Sister, your judgement is flawed. You let this happen,

are

letting this happen now. You have sinned against Heaven. You have sinned against your twin. You have sinned against the virtues." Michael paused, and added as kindly as possible, "Heaven is not closed to those who Fall and repent. I'll tell Raguel where you land."

The cloud structure of the ground beneath the hall opened up, as did the floor. Jeremiel's desk stayed where it was, anchored to the firmament of Heaven and not to the ground beneath it. Brick by brick, the floor fell away until Michael and Jeremiel were hovering over the open void. She was beating his chest, clawing at his arm, desperation causing the blows to bruise.

Michael cut off her wings in one smooth motion.

Jeremiel screamed.

She fell.

Emily was sobbing in Uriel's arms.

Phanuel came to join him as they watched the burning star that was Jeremiel race towards the ground. It was a long way down. They stayed there, watching, until she hit the ground. There was a small explosion when she landed, and she lay in her crater, unmoving.

The ground closed up beneath them, as if hiding this terrible thing that Michael had done.

"What now, Taxiarch?" asked Phanuel, his voice soft.

Michael turned. There was wetness on his face and he lifted his hand to find that there were tears flowing from his eyes. Phanuel waited patiently as Michael wiped his face.

"Stay here and guard the gates-" A faint rumble from below echoed up, causing a slight tremor to go through the fabric of Heaven.

"That came from Hell," said Uriel. Unsaid in their eyes were

Raphael and Gabriel are there alone.

"Stay here and guard the gates," Michael repeated. "If I fail to destroy Lilith, she will target Heaven next. Gabriel has spoken and confirmed this."

"Oh well, then." Phanuel placed his hands on his hips. "We're just four down. We'll be fine."

A gap needed to be filled. "Emily. You are kind, perhaps too kind. Kindness will lead you through the judgments and the judgements will temper that kindness with experience."

"What?" Emily blinked her large eyes in confusion.

"I'm bumping you up. Welcome to the Virtues." Michael pushed up on his toes and kissed Emily on the forehead. "You're taking Jeremiel's place."

"Until she comes back, right?"

Emily was so young. Michael didn't say any of the stark things in his head. "Sure. Uriel will show you the ropes. Once the crisis is over."

The powers of Heaven were already taking their hold on Emily, elevating her to her new status. Her wings took on pattern in periwinkle, and her halo grew spade shaped points. She looked older, but only a little bit.

Taking in the changes in her body, Emily bowed. "I will not let my brethren down."

"I trust that you won't." With those final words, Michael was off. He tore a portal to the skies above Pride right then and there, his sword blazing as it cut the air. It was already closing the moment Michael flew through, the very fabric of Heaven fighting against his spell. There was a reason that stable portals were only opened outside the Pearly Gates.

Michael arrived in the midst of chaos. The inhabitants of Pentagram City were racing every which way without a direction in sight. There was no organization, no military presence, nothing to stream the hoards of souls away from the immense being that rose against the horizon.

From his vantage point in the sky, he could see that she was pulling herself out physically from the hole that she had created in the ground. Unlike the neat hole that Heaven made for him to sentence Jeremiel, this was rough hewn and jagged, with sharp rocks and red dirt staining her hands and limbs as Lilith pulled herself free.

She stood tall, stark and awesome against the red sky of Pride. Her long flowing hair flared out behind her and her horns seemed to pierce the very heavens.

The event was being televised and projected onto large screens all around the city, leaving no doubt to the demons just what the violently quaking ground meant. In another moment, Lilith rose to her feet, rising into the air like a behemoth. She scanned her surroundings then started walking in the direction of the palace.

Michael raced ahead. He sped as fast as his wings could carry him, and though he was there in less than a minute, it didn't seem fast enough.

Not when he heard the crackle of Alastor's voice projected outwards.

"It seems I must remind Hell just why the Radio Demon is in charge."

Quicker than he could stop him, Alastor was suddenly visible, growing in size, his demonic aspect in full force as his eyes went dark with radio dial pupils and dark shadowy tentacles erupted from his back. He stepped over the palace walls like they were nothing and marched towards Lilith as his green power signature lit up his being. He was still growing, becoming a giant that matched Lilith in size. Michael was perhaps too fast and too small for him to notice as he came in from a different direction.

"Fuck yeah!" Another voice yelled out from the palace. Michael landed just in time to watch Vox punch the air. "The Radio Fucker's back!" He disappeared in an arch of lighting, zapping along powerlines.

The palace grounds were in just as much chaos as they were when he left not that long ago. The Queensguard were assembling, forming up and piling into vehicles. Queen Vagatha and Adelaide were at the forefront with the guard captain, Sabnock. Michael folded his wings and went to them. Adelaide spotted him first.

"Mama! Michael's back!" Her eyes went wide as she looked at his bare blade.

Michael held it aside, not willing to sheath his sword now that a clear objective was identified. "Has anyone heard from Gabriel? He was meant to be tracking Dion."

Vaggie's eyes went wide. "Dion? He's still in his room!" She glanced around, suddenly stricken. "Charlie! Where's Dion?"

A blonde head popped up in the back of the assembling crowd, the younger two children in her arms. She mouthed "Dion?"

"And you will let my grandson go!" Alastor's voice projected across the Ring.

"That seals it," said Michael. He flexed his wings then had a thought. "Adelaide, Vagatha, the Inhabitants of Pentagram City are in a panic. They need guidance out of the city."

Vaggie snapped her head in his direction, her eyes narrowed. "You knew Dion was up to something."

"Only this morning. Vox and Raphael were supposed to bring you up to speed."

"Vox only spoke in riddles!"

"That's because he had to talk around his deal with Lilith," said Michael patiently. He felt rather than heard the impact of power upon power in the near distance. "I need to go. Alastor has made contact. He won't last long in his weakened state."

With that one statement, everything fell together in Michael's mind.

"What weakened state?" Adelaide asked. "What's wrong with gran-pӕr?"

"Michael!" Raphael came out of the palace. "I just came off the phone with Leviathan! Gabriel's down!"

Michael raised his hand in acknowledgement. He turned back to Adelaide and Vagatha, Sabnock discretely turning his head away. "No time for explanations. I'm needed on the field." Flying was always an excellent way to exit out of awkward conversations, Michael felt as he took to the skies. He followed Alastor's path and came across them in almost no time. He batted in the air, taking in the lay of combat.

Vox had joined in on Alastor's side, slinging arcs of electricity towards Lilith. Rather than engaging in physical combat, Alastor was also striking out with his shadowy tendrils. Now that he was facing Lilith head on, he could see the small shape of Dion on her shoulder.

Hanging from a chain around her neck like a rare gem was Raguel. The Justice looked even worse than from when Michael last saw him. His cheeks were shrunken and his eyes were staring out of blank pools. His head lolled bonelessly, he barely had the strength to hold his head up.

Two hundred years was nothing for an eternal servant of Heaven. But two hundred years of pain and agony would destroy anyone. Michael knew that even if he rescued Raguel now, he knew Raguel had already fallen, the lack of halo around his head was proof of that. Perhaps being destroyed was a kinder fate.

Michael's entire being rebelled against that very thought. Even as Lilith opened her mouth and a tantalising song emerged and Raguel screamed as more life force was drained from his very essence. Michael acted before thinking, millennia of combat experience guiding his movements in the air. He spun and he dived, avoiding Alastor's tendrils as well as Vox's electricity while aiming straight at Lilith's throat.

Her song ended sharply in a gurgle as Michael impacted right in her trachea. She gave out a startled cough, stumbling from the hit. Her hands going to her bruised throat, Michael decided to give her something to worry over as he sliced her artery. Red blood spurted forth, and she clutched at the round, her eyes wide as she finally saw who was attacking her.

Michael grinned. "You never knew your place, First Woman." Then he slashed out again and cut Raguel free, catching him before he could fall. He was off again, speeding away to a safe distance. Raphael must have followed him because the Healer met him partway. Michael pushed their brother, still in his chains, into his arms.

"Michael?"

Raguel's black eyes were unfocused as they trained on him.

"Am I dreaming? Is this another of her tricks?"

Michael laid a gentle hand over his brow. "No, brother. It's I. Raphael has you."

Raguel's eyes closed almost gratefully before they opened again. "The boy," he whispered. "He is ensorcelled. She used my power to weave spells into him."

"Rest easy, brother. We will uncover the rot," said Michael. "Keep him safe."

"I'm not leaving the field, Michael. I'm needed here."

"Then give him to Vagatha's troops. I'm heading back." Alastor needed him.

Even injured and lacking her source of power, Lilith was a formidable foe for the Grand Duke.

As Michael saw when he flew back to the battle. Lilith laid her lilac eyes on Vox.

"I'm calling in my deal, Sinner," she rasped. A long blue chain appeared in her hand, ending in a collar at Vox's neck.

"I knew you were a dud, Vox," Alastor said, shifting his focus. Where he only had one foe, he now had two.

"Yeah, well, if

you

had been paying attention, this wouldn't have been over decades ago!" Vox, still tiny but oh so prominent as he stood above a jagged rise, threw a sizzling arc at Alastor. Alastor avoided this by stepping out of the way. He sent wave after wave of tentacles after Vox but that brought him in range of the trident Lilith wielded in one hand.

Absolutely daft traditional family weapon, Michael thought as he slammed into the base of the trident head, knocking it out of alignment to Alastor's benefit. It was made out of tough stuff, but there was nothing in this Creation that was tougher than him. The base of the trident cracked, creating a severe flaw in its structure. He could force the break wider until the trident head fell away from the shaft, but his attention was caught by a movement from Lilith.

She frowned at him, the minuscule archangel on the tip of her weapon. "You can't help but interfere, can you, Taxiarch?"

"I find, Lady Lilith, that when you involve my family in your plots that I have no choice but to interfere." He turned his head towards Alastor. "Focus on V-"

A scream interrupted him.

"Dion!" Alastor cried, then he yelled again as Vox landed a painful hit on Alastor's side.

Dion screamed again as Lilith grasped him in her hand, having found another source of angel blood to fuel her powers.

Lilith couldn't sing anymore, not with her croaky voice. There were other ways she could aim her power. The cut in her neck had healed allowing her to focus solely on Michael. Purple bolts of fire shot out from her eyes and Michael raised his sword, the blade aimed at the ground, to shield his body. The fire bounced harmlessly off his blade, but Dion screamed as Lilith drew power from him. Michael allowed himself a quick glance at the young prince. Dion was bleeding from the eyes and ears. He was only a century and half old. He didn't have the resources of an angel like Raguel. Michael knew he wouldn't last long. He had to end this quickly.

Behind him, Alastor yelled out taunts at Vox, and those were gamely returned. Good. Alastor was trusting him with Dion's safety. He wasn't aware of Dion's true state. He dove low when he saw the trident coming back at him and this time he slashed out, separating the head and a good deal of the shaft away from the main body of the weapon. This left Lilith with a short cudgel, which she threw to the side.

It was ultimately a useless gesture as that left her guard open.

Lady Lilith, former Queen of Hell, reeled back as Michael flew right into her jaw. Michael heard bone break beneath his blow. She staggered backwards, dazed from pain and shock.

Michael used her distraction to cut her hand off.

He dove to catch Dion in his arms, pulling him away from lax fingers. The boy was barely conscious, a dead weight in Michael's arms. He shifted Dion to his shoulder and flew above Lilith.

Lilac eyes glared up at him, defiance and hate in them even as she clutched her jaw.

"Your own grandson," said Michael. "Is your thirst for vengeance that foul?" He saw it now. If Alastor had fallen, if he hadn't been there, then she would have made her way through her entire line. There were five more angel-blooded in the palace. With their potent blood on her hands, she would turn her gaze towards Heaven. She would have made Heaven eat itself, using the blood of Sinners and heavenborn to power her assault. The great beast indeed.

"He! Kurned! Meh!"

"All because my brother chose not to take you back when you left." The power of a scorned woman. Michael never understood it, might never will, but he knew the patterns having seen it over and over across the millennia. Michael never met the innocent woman in Eden, the one who was made equally but treated like a lesser being. What would he have done if it were he who saw her weeping in the Garden like Samael had said? Michael could not say. That would be a different Michael, one condemned by history. The Michael of the here and now flexed the grip of his sword in his hand. "I cannot let you live."

Lilith's eyes burned with outrage. Michael was faster than she could act. His sword was buried deep between her eyes. Lilith of Hell was dead before she even hit the ground.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Hahaha yes! I'm free!" Vox raised his fists, cackling at the sky.

Alastor hit him in the face.

"Ow! What the fuck?"

"I hate your stupid projection face, idiot." Alastor massaged his hand. Michael was right, it did hurt, but it was also so very satisfying. He was still panting after the fight. It had been a very long time since he'd had to battle on his own terms and he found that he didn't miss the frightening rush of blood that came with the thrill of the fight. That was a different Alastor, one dedicated to hearth and home, one grown comfortable with his domesticated life.

"It's cutting edge technology, you old timey piece of shit!" The crack that ran down the thin glass plate held the projection was oh so very gratifying.

"It's his grace, old timey piece of shit, old chum!"

"Ahem." The two Sinners turned to the one person brave enough to interrupt them. Michael still held Dion over his shoulder, his sword already retrieved. The blood on the blade was burned away by its holy fire. "There is much more to be done, gentlemen."

Then to Alastor's shock, he thrust the unconscious Dion into Vox's arms. "Michael, what are you doing?"

Michael held out a hand, requesting patience. "You will take the prince directly to my brother Raphael. He's coming now."

"Wouldn't you be faster?" Vox shifted Dion's weight, but the boy barely weighed anything.

"His injuries are not urgent." Michael then narrowed his eyes. "And you will

directly

deliver him to Raphael." There was no need for an

or else

because that was implied by Michael's entire being.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going. Good to have you back, Radio Fucker."

Alastor watched Vox's retreating back for a moment before he turned to look at Lilith's shrinking body. Soon she would be at her normal size, the Lilith that loved the Sinners of Hell.

As the adrenaline left his body, Alastor slowly sank to the ground. Michael finally sheathed his sword and joined him on the red dirt. He took Alastor's shaking hand in his. He wasn't even winded.

Alastor closed his eyes.

"At what point did you decide not to go through with your plan?"

"You've been in Hell for three days. Three days. That's all it took you to uncover my schemes that were decades in the making. Three days." Alastor lowered his head as he suddenly found it difficult to get enough air into his lungs.

"But you meant for me to be here, didn't you?"

"Yes, and no. I thought Heaven would send someone, I didn't think the great Michael himself would come."

"And yet, I am here." Michael gave his hand a squeeze. A hot breeze blew over them, playing with Alastor's well ordered coiffure.

"What are you going to do now?"

"For one, I'm still waiting for your answer."

Alastor began to feel a soft warmth coming from his hand. He recognized the same warmth from when Michael healed his burned hand the previous day. "What makes you think that I abandoned my goal?"

Michael smiled. Alastor wondered who else had been witness to the rare show of gentleness from the Sword of Heaven. "You turned away from Lilith when I directed. If you had been set on your path of self-destruction, you would have gone straight ahead and ignored me. You would have thrown yourself at her the same way you've thrown yourself into work, and she would have destroyed you."

Alastor looked away. He didn't want the gentle healing warmth that coasted through his body. He could feel Michael's magic patching up his various cuts and bruises. He didn't want that. He didn't deserve that, but to stop it, he'd have to let go of Michael's hand. Alastor found that he was loath to do just that.

"I had been so tired, so very tired of hurting all the time. I wanted release from that hurt. The family was strong and stable. It was time. Then you came and you followed me into Lucifer's crypt, and you told me it wasn't my fault. I mean. It was. We knew that she meant to target me. Lucifer and I saw you coming for us, then you weren't there, and Lucifer knew that was when she decided to strike. He knew out of the two of us, I would be better motivated to guide Charlie and Vaggie, while he would hide himself away. He knew it had to be him. It still felt like my fault." Alastor felt his body shake as sobs wrecked his breath. He shuddered and muffled his weeping in his hand. Then Michael's wings came around him and sheltered him, hiding him from the gaze of Heaven. "Then you were there, and it didn't hurt so much. I started to feel. I mean, it was disgust, your eating habits are atrocious but you were so kind. It became easier to simply exist. Why are you so kind?"

Michael shrugged. "I honestly cannot say. All I know is that we are bound by vows and that makes you mine. Mine to care for and protect. The vows that bind us are as potent as the ones that bind me to Heaven's rule. You're just lucky that your goals and mine ended up the same."

Alastor quirked a little smile. "Even as events in motion were partially of my machination? It had to be done. Charlie wouldn't have done anything about Lilith. She would have let her mother sit and plot for all eternity. It was important that Lilith be dealt with. I didn't think she would have tried to kill Dion. She almost killed Dion. Oh fuck me."

"Perhaps she wouldn't have been driven to such lengths if I hadn't been here. Perhaps she would have just stopped with you."

"Perhaps," Alastor whispered. "I need to make up with Dion. He was as much my pawn as hers. I almost got him killed."

"I never liked Lilith." Michael said this in a conversational tone like he was discussing cloud patterns, neither forgiving nor excusing Alastor's meddling with Dion. That was his business. He reached out and wiped Alastor's face. "I have always hated her for what she did to my brother. Would he have fallen if he had never met her? I've never been sure on that point. I feel for the naive woman who woke up in Eden but did it have to be my twin? I could never figure out who manipulated who back then." He turned his winter sky blue gaze on Alastor and he was struck again by the feeling of being caught on a rocky outcrop with only sky around them. That was the impression that Michael gave when one looked at him. He was the open sky to Lucifer's sunlit day.

"What," Alastor whispered, awed by the vastness that Michael represented. "What," he tried again. "What gave me away?"

Michael gave him a brilliant smile. "That's what all the villains say when the detective has them all gathered in the parlour. Raphael pointed out that you were missing something in an old portrait Lucifer painted. He didn't know what it meant and wanted my opinion. Did you know that we don't just see in the visual spectrum? Lucifer painted what he saw. He painted layers and layers onto canvas, capturing what he saw. Behind him, he painted the hint of his power, enough that you could get an impression if you saw in the right wavelength. For you, he painted-"

"-My shadow." Or rather, the vast majority of his shadow. Alastor had maintained just enough of his power to avoid notice of his lessened potency.

"Yes. I had been wondering how you were powering his crypt. I see now that you sacrificed your very essence to ensure its perpetuity. Raphael also said you were starving yourself."

Alastor took a long time in answering. Finally he sighed and shook his head. "I'm a cannibal. I habitually eat the flesh of other demons."

"I had been wondering why I felt the sin of gluttony on you."

"I had not partaken in a long time. Most food tastes like ash."

Michael raised a brow. Alastor couldn't read his expression. He flicked his gaze to the size instead of responding, then got to his feet. "We're going to be joined by your family soon. I need to look on Gabriel and Raguel." He reached down and Alastor accepted his hand and was pulled to his feet.

Everything ached. Even with Michael's warm glow healing his hurts, everything hurt. Alastor tried to take a step and stopped. It was like his muscles had been boiled into hard lumps. He leaned on Michael who wrapped an arm about his waist. Together they faced the oncoming convoy.

*

Raphael declared that everybody was going to live. He added that they would feel immediately like dying but that was a side effect of actually being close to death.

Dion, the youngest patient, was whisked off to his home accompanied by Vaggie with Raphael's promises that his condition wasn't serious after a sufficient infusion of healing power and he just needed rest. Further investigation could wait.

Gabriel had been brought up from Envy wrapped in Leviathan's gentle arms. She cooed as she cradled the helpless Messenger close to her bare bosom. "Oh look, he's recovering so nicely. Am I not an excellent healer, Raphael?"

Raphael, nursing his fifth mug of coffee and getting ready to join Adelaide in the city to tend to the wounded, just nodded and ignored Gabriel's pleading eyes. "Oh yes, I'm all jealous of your skills." Raphael just knew what each of his patients needed.

Raguel looked like death warmed over. The best he could do was sit up as he recounted what he knew of his prison. Alastor got the impression that the Von Eldritchs were involved. That was Charlie's mess to deal with.

As was Vox. The Television Demon had been packed into a car heading into the city with Charlie's promises for further investigation. Yes, he'd been in a deal with Lilith, but there was a point that led up to the deal, hadn't there?

Then there was Alastor and Michael. As far as anyone knew, they were the heroes of the day. Alastor wondered how that would go down, the famed Michael, Prince of Heaven, being lauded as a Hero of Hell. Frankly, he was too tired to think about it. He wished his antlers weren't so large. His head felt heavy as he leaned back against the backrest. Michael was beside him, apparently having convinced everyone that their hands could only be surgically detached. Alastor was too tired to wonder what was meant by

that

. They were officially escorting Raguel back to the palace where he'd have a room to rest and recover. Whatever questions Raguel had when he saw the Prince of Heaven holding hands with the Grand Duke of Hell, he held them back. Raguel only had one question. "Where is Jeremiel?"

Alastor only knew of one Jeremiel and he looked at Michael. He wasn't prepared for the grim blankness on Michael's face.

"I had to pass judgment. She's landed a distance from here."

Raguel shuddered. "My poor sister. I'll go to her when I can walk."

Alastor opened his mouth, then closed it. He thought of his own siblings, how he had killed for them, would have killed again if any of them had contacted him for help. Family was different.

"You are certainly more kind than I would be in your place, brother."

A complicated expression fluttered over Raguel's face before he closed his eyes. "Perhaps I just need answers from her."

"She'll be there for a while. You can afford to regain your strength before going to her."

Raguel only nodded and that was the last thing he did before they noticed he had slipped into unconsciousness.

Alastor insisted on checking on Dion and the other children before seeking his own rest. Michael supported him as he made his way to the wing where the rest of the family had their rooms. He was allowed into Dion's room where he sat and watched the youth rest. Michael bent down and whispered into his ear, "Remove the geas now." Alastor swallowed and nodded. It was only the work of the moment to remove the compulsion and then Dion was free. Alastor watched his sleeping face, fighting the urge to brush a strand of hair away from his face.

"I will need to tell Charlie."

"If you must."

"You don't think I should."

"I suggest you make peace with Dion before speaking with his mother. You may not have the chance after."

Alastor's shoulders dropped. "Yes. I suppose that you are right." Charlie would bar access to her children, and she would be fully justified. He would no longer be Alastor, her beloved stepfather, but Alastor, the unpredictable Radio Demon of old.

"Come. Dion needs his rest."

Michael led him back to his rooms. He sat him down in his chair to rest his aching bones.

"Tonight you will show me what you did to maintain Lucifer's crypt."

"I will?"

"Yes, then you will undo it-"

"-No."

"You will unravel the spell," Michael continued as if he'd never objected. "And I will maintain the wetland."

"Bayou. It's a bayou."

Michael tilted his head. "You're from the Americas?"

"New Orleans, Louisiana." Alastor allowed a little of his old accent to slip through. He'd closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair. There was a tug at his foot as Michael pulled off his shoe, then the other. They were both terribly scuffed with the normal high shine now dulled by dust and scratches. Nelphus was going to be disappointed in him.

"Let's put you in the bath then in bed. I suspect that one of the queens will want to speak with you before the end of the day."

Alastor nodded. "Thank you for staying with me."

Michael held his hand. "I suggest you lie."

"Excuse me?"

"The alliance is between the Prince of Heaven and the Grand Duke. If you step down, as I suspect that you're leaning towards, you will no longer be Grand Duke. There will be no alliance." Michael paused. "Although a new alliance can be made. I did just make Emily one of the Virtues. Perhaps she and Adelaide would make an acceptable pairing."

Michael made it sound so reasonable. Alastor visualised it, his young granddaughter forced to sacrifice her youth to uphold a treaty. He only knew of Emily from Charlie's stories of her visit to Heaven. Perhaps it would be a good match. Adelaide could do worse. She was dutiful and she would see this through.

A crackling sound shook him from his thoughts and Alastor looked down to see that he'd snapped the arm right off the chair. Michael was perched on the coffee table, smiling gently with his eyes half lidded.

"I'll think about it," said Alastor, his voice hoarse.

Michael patted his knee. "How do you like your bath?"

Later, Alastor sat in his bed over the covers. He was in a dressing gown and his pajamas but was determined to stay up as it was impossible to not feel guilty for yet another day of lost work. Nelphus had been and gone, keeping the awe in his eyes back to ensure that he and Michael were comfortable. Michael was curled up on the bed opposite him, his back against one of the bedposts. He was leafing through a collection of poems, the only thing he claimed could be trusted to actually read through and not just absorb via osmosis. Alastor tried to read, but the fatigue in his limbs also weighed down his eyelids. He rested his eyes only for a moment.

A dip in the mattress woke him. Startled, Alastor was reaching for his cane before he realised that Charlie had taken Michael's spot. Michael moved to the other bedpost, seemingly not paying the least bit of attention to either of them.

Alastor slowly released the cane. "Charlie, I..." He lifted his eyes to Charlie's face and he froze. She knew. His voice, always ready with a quip or comeback, was stuck in his throat.

He was going to lose it all after all.

Charlie clasped her hand on his knee. "Before we go any further, I'm not accepting your resignation."

Alastor clapped his jaw shut so hard he felt his teeth clip.

"And you are going to take some time off. Maybe a month."

"Six months," Michael murmured. He turned a page

"Six months." Charlie nodded. "Stippens knows your entire workload and we're going to put Adelaide to work on the more administrative side. Dion, too, when he's up and recovered. Do you think I have Raguel too?"

Michael shrugged. "That's up to him. He's Fallen and technically free, for a certain value of free. He might be grateful for the distraction of employment."

"What am I going to do for six months?"

Charlie gave him a pointed look. She'd done a great deal of growing up in the last two centuries. Alastor estimated that she was in the equivalent proximity of her early to mid thirties. Becoming queen had changed her, as did motherhood. Alastor had the uncomfortable feeling that she was looking at him with those eyes, like he was one of her four misbehaving children.

"You just got married. You can start by getting to know Michael. Both Raphael and Gabriel tell us he's a very strange person."

"Very strange," agreed Michael. He mouthed something under his breath as he read.

"Yes, I know. I saw him bite into a coconut yesterday."

"And you could probably go on a honeymoon."

"But what about the children? I barely spend any time with them as it is."

"I'm not kicking you out, Alastor."

Alastor rubbed his face. "It was Stolas, wasn't it?"

"Yes. And no. Stolas reported that there were three signatures that sabotaged the spell holding mother down, but he just confirmed what I've suspected for a while now. Dion? Really? He changed almost overnight. That was very clumsy work, Alastor. And why Dion? If you tell me it was because you thought he was tougher than Adelaide..."

"I thought he would be safe with her, because he looks like you."

Alastor found his hands twisting in his robe. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. There was more coming, he knew. He couldn't have gotten away with it. Not with just a short break from work.

Charlie took a bracing breath. "Alastor, I wanted to thank you, and to apologise. You took on the responsibility for my mother when it should have been my job. I should have dealt with her much sooner than this. And we should have taken better care of you."

Alastor covered her hand with his. "He left you in my care."

"And he left you to us." Charlie smiled at him. "It goes both ways. Speaking of, Michael, I think Alastor has family in Heaven."

"No."

Michael looked up. "Something could be arranged if Alastor wishes it."

"I don't."

"It's always an option."

Alastor shook his head. "I don't think any of them would want to see me like this."

"We shall see." Michael went back to his book.

Charlie rose and enveloped Alastor in a hug. She whispered in his ear. "He may be strange but he's willing to give this a try."

"I know."

Drawing back, Charlie smiled fondly at him.

"Oh, I left her in my sock drawer. I didn't want to bring her with me." Alastor moved to get up, grunting at the stiffness still in his muscles.

"I was wondering why I was hearing a disconcerted hiss," Michael murmured.

Charlie found the little gold snake and draped her around her neck like a loose necklace. "I'll be seeing you at breakfast tomorrow. At eight," she added. "Not your terrible six am meals."

Alastor sighed. "Yes, your majesty."

"And I've told Nelphus not to wake you before seven."

"Of course."

Charlie smiled at him one last time before she let herself out.

Michael set his book aside. Alastor caught a glimpse of the title,

The Collected Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

"The Light Brigade?"

"How did you guess? Come here, I want to see if I can work out the rest of your aches."

"You don't have to." But Alastor was already resting his head in Michael's lap as indicated, without a thought as to why he gave in so easily. He was careful with his antlers, though Michael didn't seem to care. He rested his hands lightly on Alastor's chest. "Now, just close your eyes. I'll wake you when I'm done."

Alastor wanted to protest that he wasn't sleepy or tired, but he yawned and when his eyes closed the last thing he saw were Michael's stunning winter sky blue eyes.

*

Dion was disorientated when he went to see him next. Disorientated but fully aware of who he was. "Gran-pær," he said. "It feels like I'm waking up from a bad dream."

"That will pass," said Alastor, gripping Dion's hand tightly.

"Did Gra- Lilith actually try to kill me?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I should have prevented it before it even got that far."

The conversation petered off after that as Dion's eyes grew heavy. Alastor read to him one of his favourite stories, leaving the book splayed open on the nightstand when it was time to go. Michael was waiting for him outside the door, his eyes blank and arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. The door closing was all that was needed to bring him back to the present, however.

"Where do you go when you do that?" Alastor wondered.

Michael shrugged. "I was checking on one of my simulations. I run battle simulations in my head. We all do something similar. Raphael constantly invents a new way the humans can fix themselves. Did S-Lucifer not do that?"

"I...yes. He did. I just thought he was being easily distractible."

"It can seem that way. I wonder if Charlotte is free. I want to talk to her about your tracking device."

Alastor laughed, his hand going to the crystal on the gold chain he wore over his tie. "Speaking of distractions."

"It's a good look on you, but I think Charlotte should have it. I wonder who gave it to her in the first place."

Charlie did have a free moment, and she looked surprised when the bauble was placed in her hand. "This belongs to your bloodline. Your father made it, a very long time ago. I'm surprised that one of the others still kept it."

"I'd be happy to accept something Dad created," said Charlie, smiling. "Provided the tracking spell has been removed."

Michael raised a brow. "Or I'll give you access to the tracking spell. I'm sure you can see the applications."

"We'll see. What is it? Gabriel said it was a seed of creation."

"That's not inaccurate. It's a simulation of a galaxy, a bit of an elaborate blueprint. My brother had been playing with configurations and he extracted this out to demonstrate his point. I suppose one of our siblings kept it all these years. If you had the resources, you could use this as a plan to create your own galaxy. Technically that's how it's supposed to work."

"Extract it from where?" Charlie asked in an awed voice as she examined the bauble with renewed interest.

"His head. It's a rather barebones blueprint, a draft if you will. You could spend lifetimes exploring it. My brother did thorough work."

Charlie looked up. "That's who you see when you think of him, isn't it? You see Samael the creator."

Michael exhaled slowly. "Yes and he was very talented. He should have kept to galaxies and stars and left politics and policies to the rest of us."

"The ideas that he had that no one listened to."

"The ideas that led to the creation of Hell. The grand design had been set. His war disrupted the plans for the worse and led to the necessity of Hell."

"And humans would be a great deal more malleable if they didn't have free will."

Michael shook his head. "That wasn't the point."

"The point was obedience and Dad didn't follow the mold."

A small smile played on his face. "Where were you when he needed your backbone? I wonder how far he would have gone had you been there on the field beside him."

"And where will you be tomorrow?"

Michael leaned back in his seat, his head turning lazily at Alastor. "I think I'm best suited here. I'll travel for my duties, but there can be no argument that there's a gathering of troops in Hell if I am here. It will give the others room to breathe and for Emily to settle in her seat. I can also be here for Raguel. He'll need a period of adjustment. I don't think Jeremiel will want to see me for a while. If she does, she'll have words for me. Her redemption journey will be a long one. Raguel wants to be there for her."

"You're welcome to stay, of course." Charlie's eyes flicked to Alastor then back.

"You realise that this is merely a flimsy excuse to stay within reach of Alastor."

"I'm not opposed," said Alastor. He lifted his coffee cup to his lips. He settled the cup back onto the saucer and gave Michael a slight smile.

"Hector would be glad to hear you're staying. Alastor, while you're here, can I interest you in grief counseling?"

"I think I'm good, Charlie."

"You know where you can find me."

When they left Charlie, Alastor found himself going down the familiar hallways to his office before he realised and stopped. Michael was smiling at him, having not said a word all the while even though he knew exactly what Alastor's destination was going to be.

Alastor stared down at the familiar carpet. "I don't know what to do," he said, a little helplessly.

"Hector mentioned that the old shack he has his workshop against is your radio tower. Perhaps you could show me around?"

"My radio tower? I can't remember the last time I went in. Sometime before Adelaide was born, I think."

"Hector might enjoy looking around as well. You can watch us as I try not to make a ballista that could explode and kill Hector."

That was what they went and did. Alastor gave a short tour and tutted over his long disused equipment. He had to look over all the components and wiring and many of them had to be replaced due to rust and other corrosion. He took off his coat and hung it on the back of his chair, popped the windows open and occasionally peered out at Michael and Hector. Raguel joined them at one point as he made a slow turn around the gardens. The newly fallen angel looked up with bemusement as Michael assisted the small boy with his hobby.

Alastor leaned out to watch when Michael called out to him. He and Raguel wound up the winch and loaded the javelin. Michael held his hand up and smiling gently, cut through the air to signal to lose the javelin. The javelin shot out, and he seemed to be waiting with a slight smile on his face.

A cry ran out from behind the hedge.

"You shot me! You actually shot me! With a ballista!"

Michael looked up at him and winked. "I would never shoot the messenger, Gabriel. And it's not a ballista, it's a school project."

"A ballista!"

Raguel had collapsed in laughter and Alastor found himself bent over wheezing.

Perhaps everything will work out after all.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

As the killing spell hit, the last image Lucifer held in his mind's eye was of Alastor. It had been the previous night and he was smiling at something Angel Dust said to liven the mood. Lucifer cherished the brightness in Alastor's eyes, the amused glint of his teeth. Then he glanced at Lucifer and his smile softened, gentled in a way that he didn't know Alastor was capable of when they first met.

We'll be alright

, Alastor mouthed.

Lucifer had to trust that.

The moment the spell hit Alastor, he took the full brunt of it onto himself.

There was a bright purple glare.

Then nothing.

It was a lot of nothing for a while.

Lucifer had no way of knowing how long exactly, but he was adrift in a void when he had the first tinglings of consciousness.

He was in nothingness. He had no thoughts, no feelings. He just existed.

Every once in a while he would get a flash of imagery, like the connection between his conscious self and his physical body had been jiggled like a loose wire. He got images of faces in mourning, tears and stone expressions. Lucifer couldn't give names to the face, but he knew that they were important to him.

The void took him again.

Lucifer floated, a bodiless mind. Soon words began to appear. His own words. They said things like

ow,

or

this is weird

, and

I'm probably not dead

.

The only thing he knew was his name, like that was the one point of permanence that was seared into his being.

At a lack of any further information, he decided to sleep. Perhaps things would be clearer when he woke.

They were, a bit. The connection between him and his body was stronger. There was that sad face again, weeping by himself. His hair was shorter than the last time he saw him and his clothing was in all black. Lucifer still didn't have a name for him, but knew that he was important. He wanted to reach out to him, but the loose wire still wasn't strong enough. There was nothing for it. Lucifer went back to sleep.

The next time he woke, Lucifer was much more aware of his situation in the void. His essence had been damaged so badly that even his soul needed repairs. Limited as he was, he still understood just how strong a blow he took. His person would not have been able to survive that, Lucifer knew that much.

Nevertheless, now that he was a little bit more aware, he could actively direct where his healing was focused. The self-healing directive was decent, but largely inefficient without a conscious mind directing repairs. The damage was extensive and it was going to take a long time before he could fully fuse seamlessly with his physical body. He hoped his people were alright without him, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Lucifer did strengthen the cord that tied him to his body. He was lucky that survived at least. It wasn't much, he couldn't take a great deal of resources from the rest of his essence, but it would be enough for him to be aware of his visitors. Maybe he'll keep a list and write thank you notes once he was whole again. He took a peek, and it was his person again. He was alone as always, head bent low as silent tears shook his body.

Don't worry, love,

Lucifer wanted to say.

I'll be back soon. Don't mourn me, I'm not dead.

His person picked up his hand and kissed the wooden palm and left uncomforted.

Wood? Lucifer wondered about that but he had to return to his essence. He knew if he were stronger he would be able to spread his consciousness between his body and his essence but he needed to wait a long time for that. He carried the image of his person with him. His memory cache had yet to be repaired and while he would have liked to put a name to a face, there were other more essential functions to patch up.

Lucifer cradled the image of his mourning person, holding him close to his core as he whispered promises.

Other people visited, most notably two women. Lucifer knew them also and knew they were cherished people in his life. They were sad, but they were also excited. When next they visited, Lucifer knew the cause of their excitement. They had an infant with them. His person was there as well, hanging back and watching over them until he was called closer and the infant placed in his arms. His person cradled the infant naturally, like he was well used to holding the child. Lucifer knew that this was his grandchild and he felt like his heart would burst.

I will hold you soon, little one. Your grandfather loves you.

The years passed. His essence grew stronger. The babe in arms grew up and became a small child. She was soon joined by another sibling. His cherished people were always happy, a stark contrast to his beloved person.

His repairs were going well enough that he could divert focus to repairs to his memory and personality. Lucifer had managed to recover a base structure of both, enough that he could start laying the building blocks to patch the gaps in his essence. It was early days yet and he still didn't have a name for his person, and couldn't wait until he remembered a name he could whisper into the void.

More children joined the older two, another boy and girl. The older two visited with their mothers and they were a little taller with each visit.

Lucifer wondered how much time had passed. All his cherished people seemed happy with their lives, only his beloved remained sad. Lucifer knew he should be worried about this but he couldn't say why.

The repairs carried on. He grew stronger with each completed repair job, an item on the list ticked off. He grew more whole.

Someone new visited.

Lucifer knew him, knew him with his entire being. Twin brother, came the thought.

Michael

. This was a primal memory, one that was encoded into his essence. Twin brother.

His body had been touched before, but this was the first time he actually felt it. He felt the finger that ran down his side, the feeling a reverberation across his essence. It was the first thing he felt for as long as he'd been in this state. Lucifer didn't know if he liked it. Then his brother kissed him and he heard his words.

Lucifer hadn't yet the capacity for indignation and perhaps that was a good thing. Nevertheless the next time he saw his beloved person again, his brother was there with him. His person seemed calmer, still sad but more settled. He knew that his brother had a hand in that. Perhaps he could rest easy now knowing that his beloved person was being taken care of.

Repairs went faster after that, as if the kiss from his brother charged his essence. He still left his memories as a low priority. Of high priority were his powers and his ability to function autonomously once he returned to his body. To that end, the cord also needed to be repaired. Repairing that meant a safer, more complete return.

Once the cord was repaired and reinforced, Lucifer was finally able to turn his focus on his personality and memories.

Then he could return to his cherished and beloved people.

He wouldn't be long now.