NB: This is for those of you who've asked for a bit of Sebastian's history. This was a difficult write. I hope it is marginally satisfying. Oh, and I hope you're not wedded to any particular theology, because with this story I've likely guaranteed myself a catered trip to Hell.
Hey guys, you know what would be awesome? It would be awesome if some of you who've not spoken up would leave a review or send me a PM. I try to do something new with each of these vignettes, and I'm not always sure that they work. As a writer, I want to get as much feedback as possible. So please, take a minute to tell me what you like about this series so far, what you don't like about it, or if you think I shouldn't quit my day job. Thanks.
As always, I am eternally grateful to those of you who have left reviews, faves, alerts, or PMs. You are too kind.
He'd been called Sariel then – when the world was new, before Eve partook of the forbidden fruit, before Eden had been forever closed to the children of men, before the Serpent had conspired against Creation to salve his wounded pride, before the Serpent had become a Serpent even. Prior to abandoning his angelic name for a demonic one that was now uttered in hushed fear, he'd been called Sariel. And even then he was excruciatingly beautiful. Whispers followed in his wake, the other inhabitants of Heaven admiring his glossy ebony hair and eyes like fire. Angels typically had hair the color of sunlight; Sariel was unique in this regard, and his singularity left his name on many angelic lips. But these were not whispers of desire or envy. Angels cannot feel such things, or at least they should not have, back then, back when the world was new. No, these were whispers of celebration, of camaraderie. They felt an inexplicable swelling in their chests when he passed, a rapturous joy when he stopped to speak. Sariel was one of the Seraphim, after all, those most beloved by God, the only ones allowed in the Presence. And he was beloved by all.
Heaven had been a glistening city crafted in eternal light before the Fall, before Satan's scheming had given the divine realm need for gates and gatekeepers. Gleaming towers rose magnificently into the sky, their crystalline surfaces shimmering pale pink in the light emanating from the Throne, their apexes beyond the range of even angelic eyes. The sky resembled an eternal dusk, bathing the city in soft hues of orange and gold. White-winged beings flitted to and fro as they conducted their business. These denizens were as luminescent as the structures surrounding them. Indeed, Heaven was a bustling metropolis populated by perfect citizens, a city whose collective heart beat in synchrony with that of the God who made it.
Sariel returned to the place he'd designated as his home – for even angels need dwelling-places when they are not about their work. It was just outside of the city, a low structure crafted from the same pearly stones that made up those radiant towers. He'd built it himself, taking a great deal of satisfaction in placing the stones precisely where they might best catch the effulgence of the city's center. He'd called a 'labor of love', and when he completed it, it resembled something akin to a human's greenhouse. Sariel had even amassed quite a collection of the Earth's flora. The Seraphim had been asked to oversee Creation in its nascence, and during one of his few forays to the world of man, he found himself spellbound by the dizzying variety of blooms. There were flowers of brightest pink and deepest blue, colors that were perhaps too harsh for the Eternal City, but Sariel loved them anyway. They'd been made by his Lord, after all. And all his Lord's creations were sublimely beautiful. On Earth they'd been stunning, no doubt, but here in Heaven when cultivated by an angel in the light of the Throne, they were like precious jewels sparkling in the sunlight.
A lone figure stood before his favorite of these plants, the hellebore, and absentmindedly ran one elegant finger along the outer rim of a pale lavender petal. Sariel beamed. Lucifer was perhaps the most resplendent thing he'd ever seen, and as a Seraphim, Sariel was privy to the whole of Heaven. Like all the other angels, Lucifer's hair was gold, but unlike them, his shining curls seemed to glow from within rather than simply reflect the city's incandescence. Indeed, his whole body seemed emit a light unique to him—Sariel could pick out its particular hue amongst a multitude of dazzling heavenly creatures. Lucifer seemed taller than the others too, and his wings were longer. Everyone said that he was the most beautiful of all God's angels, and that every minute aspect of his form was lovingly crafted to perfection. But Sariel wasn't everyone, and Sariel loved his eyes most of all. They were a pale purple, precisely the shade of the hellebore petal that he now caressed. In fact, he had domesticated that particular variety of man's plant simply because the color so perfectly matched Lucifer's eyes. It was like having a part Lucifer with him even whilst he was away.
Sariel strode forward and wrapped his arms low around Lucifer's waist, placing his forehead against the other's back between his wing joints. He sighed contentedly, inhaling his lover's scent, relishing his proximity.
"I've missed you," he said, satisfied merely to be with his beloved.
"Hellebore." Lucifer's attention remained on the flower under his fingertips. "This is deadly to those humans."
"Perhaps, but we are not human." Sariel was looking over the other's shoulder now, his chin resting in the crook of his companion's neck. Lucifer continued examining the hellebore.
"Yes, but it makes one wonder, does it not?" His voice had lately developed a hard edge, as if it concealed dark thoughts that one should only speak in the shadow lands just beyond the city. Sariel could not determine exactly when the change occurred and he felt a pang of guilt for not having been more attentive.
"Wonder what, my love?"
"Why our Lord would fritter away His love on creatures so weak." There was a hint of a growl in the words that the brunette did his best to ignore.
"It is not for us to pass judgment on His works, Lucifer." He said in as mollifying a tone as he could manage. "Besides, the color of this particular flower is magnificent, whether it is poisonous or not. Isn't that reason enough for its existence?"
"Why not violets, then?" Lucifer queried distractedly. Something was upsetting him, Sariel knew, but he was fearful of incurring the other's displeasure so he did not press the matter.
Lucifer could be fickle; Sariel knew this too well.
Because your eyes are not the color of violets. "Perhaps I'll acquire some the next time I venture to Earth," he said, hoping that his cheerful tone would ease the blonde's mood. He placed a swift kiss on the back of Lucifer's neck. Lucifer smiled, but Sariel could not see that his smile carried a malice entirely incongruent with his beauteous countenance.
"When I sit on the Throne, you shall have all the violets you desire, and you will not have to venture anywhere to get them," he said with a fierce determination. He slipped out of Sariel's arms and turned to face him, his hellebore-colored eyes flashing from underneath flaxen ringlets. He placed a palm against the brunette's cheek, causing a delightful warmth to spread throughout his body.
"The Throne?" Sariel could not hide his alarm. Indeed, even the feel of Lucifer's fingers sliding along his collarbone could not distract him sufficiently. "You said you only wanted to make Him see reason." The pleasantness quickly dissipated, and the dark-haired angel shivered at the intensity of the look he was now receiving from his lover. "I don't wish to challenge the Throne…" Those words were cut short as Lucifer's lips crushed against his. Angels generally have comforting touches, but the heat sweeping through Sariel's skin where Lucifer's body was pressed against his was nothing like the gentle warmth that divine beings should impart. This was a searing fever that caused his breath to come in shallow gasps and his skin to tingle in a manner not entirely unpleasant. Lucifer wound his long fingers into dark, silky hair, tugging it back roughly and sliding his lips along Sariel's neck as he pushed him against the wall.
"I want to have you, in every conceivable way." Lucifer whispered heatedly. Sariel then realized that the feeling now taking hold of his divinely-wrought flesh was no longer love. No, this was what humans called lust, and it was as powerful as anything he'd ever felt. There was a potential for destruction in this feeling that frightened him, unfamiliar as he was to the world of such ardent emotions.
"Lucifer—" He had something important to say, something about sin and judgment, but he found that he could not form the thoughts coherently. "We can't."
The blonde pulled away, his lips swollen red from the kisses and love bites he'd left along Sariel's neck. This only made him more attractive. "Yes, I'm aware that we cannot truly satisfy our desires. Pleasure is yet another gift denied to us and given to those humans. They are nothing but a poor mimicry of angels made for the benefit of His amusement." Lucifer was angry now. One might say that he was wrathful. The brunette reached out to comfort him, to offer a soothing word or two, but his hands were batted away so forcefully that he felt a resultant sting in his preternatural flesh. "You are a coward, Sariel," Lucifer mocked, his words now dripping with venom when moments earlier they'd been like honey. "You hesitate to stand against Him because you're afraid." Sariel moved to contradict him, to explain that he loved both Lucifer and his Lord, that he could never choose between the two, but once again he was rebuffed. The blonde spun on his heel and stalked out, but before he left, he paused in the archway long enough to spit, "How could I love so craven a being?"
Sariel stared after him, his thoughts whirling wildly as a terrible heaviness settled in his chest where lately a burning desire had been, prompting him to swear that he'd make himself more resolute for his beloved's sake. He placed his fingers delicately to his mouth, remembering the feeling of Lucifer's lips as they met his. And then he knew that he was experiencing heartache. How like a human he'd become. He wondered idly if he would perish if he should eat all of the hellebore he'd so carefully cultivated - for that is what he wanted every time Lucifer left him so abruptly. In those moments, Sariel wanted to die; of that he was certain. He could endure anything but the crushing weight of his own sorrow. This was the first time he wished he was human, but it would not be the last.
In retrospect, Sariel should have known that their relationship would not go unnoticed by the Lord, but he'd been so thoroughly enraptured by their love that he did not realize how far he'd fallen until the two were Summoned before the Presence. He bowed reverently before the Throne as he always had, but he did not hear the rustle of silk and feathers that would have attended Lucifer's own show of humility. He chanced a glance at his companion and was staggered to find the other angel still on his feet, his wings stretched wide and his head held high. Even in defiance, Lucifer was positively radiant as he stood erect in the exceedingly bright light of the Throne, his eyes fiery amethysts as they looked unflinchingly upon the Presence. Sariel did not think that God Himself could be so breathtaking. And then he closed his eyes in shame for having put his lover above his Lord.
"I have Summoned you here to explain yourselves." God's voice was a deep rumble that swept through Sariel's whole body. It reverberated in his chest as if it had originated within him all along. He'd spent too much time away from the Throne of late, he thought. How he missed the feeling of bliss that typically accompanied that voice. He then inhaled sharply, for he'd just noticed that he could no longer feel the blissfulness of the divine presence.
"You want us to explain love, my Lord? Are you not the architect of it? Shouldn't you, in all your infinite knowledge, understand love perfectly?" Lucifer spoke haughtily as Sariel watched the proceedings from his knees, horrified at the various emotions that were now rampaging through his psyche.
"Your love is a corruption, Lucifer. It is covetous and tainted with lust, and therefore unwelcome in My Kingdom. You cannot love Sariel more than any of the others. It is unacceptable."
Sariel felt the rush of a thousand heartbreaks. He would be commanded to stop loving Lucifer, he knew. And he was uncertain of his ability to do so. Maybe Lucifer is right. Maybe angels should be free to love whomever they choose, however they choose. And then his heart stopped beating altogether for what seemed like an eternity. He'd blasphemed.
"You give them love, pleasure, and dominion over a new world which they will only bring to ruin. Yet you deny us when we have served you so diligently for so long. Why do you place them before us, Lord?" Lucifer had drawn his wings around him protectively. His face was contorted by anger and pain, and instead of wanting to rebuke his fellow Seraphim for daring to question God, Sariel wanted nothing more than to hold him close and kiss the sorrow away. He would have died a thousand deaths to never see that look on his lover's face again. "Do you not love them more than angels? Are you not guilty of the same inequities that you so readily charge against us?"
"It is not for you to question my actions. You are not Lord of Heaven."
Lucifer scoffed. "I recognize no Lord here, only a hypocritical tyrant." The blonde turned his back on God and walked away in a rage, leaving a kneeling Sariel alone in the presence of the Almighty.
He felt tears gathering in his eyes, and as they spilled over and down his cheeks, he realized that this was called crying. He'd never felt so hopeless in his long life. When had Heaven ceased to feel like home? Why was their love so wrong? Were not angels created to love? He'd become lost in his own despair when he felt gentle fingers curl under his chin and lift his head. He stood to find himself face to face with the Lord.
"My beloved child, this will be difficult for you most of all." Sariel looked into the Maker's eyes, eyes that radiated with pure power, and he knew then that the he'd already turned his back on the Throne too. Nothing could keep him from Lucifer's side, not the whole of Heaven, not even God Himself. God wiped the tears away from Sariel's face and wrapped His own wings around the broken angel. Yet there was no comfort to be had in this embrace, since the one that Sariel longed to embrace would no longer be satisfied with mere gestures. Lucifer would want him to choose a side. Lucifer craved freedom. Lucifer would aim to remake Heaven into a place where their love would not be forbidden. Lucifer would have war.
"My Lord, why can't we love like the humans do?" He spoke uncertainly, crushing his face against the Maker's chest, tears spilling forth uncontrollably. Perhaps, if he could reason with God, everything would be set right once again.
"Because it will only bring you pain. Were you capable of tears before you loved, Sariel?"
"No." His voice cracked. He now knew the heavy price that Lucifer's love had exacted from him.
"And that is why Heaven cannot allow romantic love. You must be unbiased; it is a requisite for all who do the Will of the Lord."
"You mean we must be unfeeling slaves." Sariel felt himself growing hot with anger. True, he'd been sad on account of his feelings for Lucifer, but he'd been happy too. In fact, he'd never felt more joyous than he was when in the other's arms. Their love, he reasoned, could not be completely without merit. The Lord's prohibition of it was therefore unreasonable.
"Are you not content serving me? Do you find your work unsatisfying?" The Maker posed the question gently, like a father to a child.
"I cannot be content without him, my Lord." Sariel broke their embrace then, knowing that the path he'd take could never again be un-taken. He'd defied God. He'd fallen from grace.
"The choice is yours. Even angels have free will. But take heed, my child. Lucifer loves his pride more than you."
"You're—"
"I'm what? Wrong, Sariel? How can I be?" The angel walked away then, turning back to take a final fleeting glance at the Lord he'd worshiped so devotedly. "Your heart will be shattered when all is said and done. I hope he is worth the wound." Sariel never spoke to God again.
War had come, just as he'd known it would. Lucifer gathered an army of angels. Some had likewise found God's injunction against love between them to be cruel. Some detested the fact that God loved the humans so blindly. Men were adored despite their imperfections, but angels were cast from the sight of the Almighty if they were not obedient in every regard. Many of the angels were simply lured by Lucifer's promises of a free Heaven wherein they would not be deprived of Earthly delights. And when the war ended, Sariel found himself being flung from Heaven by the archangel Michael himself.
He fell for an eternity, the inertia of his descent causing his body to erupt in flames and his wings to ignite. Watching the immaculate white feathers turn to cinders was more agonizing than the sting of the conflagration itself. They did not burn away as he'd imagined, but rather they remained attached to his body like a twisted black skeleton of the magnificent wings they had once been. He knew that they would never again be white. The former angel closed his eyes as he fell, and when finally he found himself upon the ground of his new domain, he opened them reluctantly, fearful of what he might see. The sudden influx of light made his retinas burn, and he squinted against the harshness which was so unlike the soft glow of the Eternal City. A gentle wind blew past his ear; he could sense the barrenness of the landscape although his eyes had not yet grown accustomed to the haze. Remnants of black plumage danced in the wind. Apparently, all the fallen angels' wings had undergone the same transformation as his. He reached forth to catch one such charred feather, realizing to his horror that his skin was no longer luminescent, and that his hand was tipped with long black claws. Sariel wrapped his fingers around it, surprised to find that it felt much softer than it looked, and as his eyes became fully acclimated to his surroundings, he found himself holding a strand of unruly black curls and gazing into mischievous brown eyes. Alexandra had been blowing in his ear while he slept.
"I thought demons didn't sleep." She said as she curled herself into his side. The night breeze swept in through the open window, making her bare skin pucker in the resultant chill. He pulled her closer to keep her warm, one hand still slipping through her hair, the other sliding up and down her back. Sebastian felt suddenly out of sorts, as though he'd fought an eons-long battle, the memory of which was lingering just outside of his consciousness.
"Your insatiable appetite is taking its toll on your humble servant, I'm afraid," he said smoothly, albeit a bit distractedly. He felt inexplicably sad, but could not determine why this should be when it was clear that he'd spent several of these last hours partaking of his master's flesh.
"My appetite? You're kidding, right?" she huffed sarcastically and threw an arm over his chest, her fingernails lightly tracing patterns in his skin.
"Yes, this is all your fault. Had you not been so taken with that vampire, I would not have felt compelled to demonstrate to you my superiority." A hint of a smirk played at the corner of his lips.
"I wasn't taken with the vampire. I wanted to see if you could handle competition."
He curved a finger under her chin and brushed his lips against hers. "It could hardly be considered a competition."
Alexandra laughed. "My apologies for comparing you with such an irredeemable lout, as you put it. Honestly, he wasn't that bad. A little forward, perhaps." A moment passed before she continued, "Sebastian?"
"Hmm?"
"You woke with a bit of a start. Were you having a nightmare?" He could hear her concern, and it caused a slight pull in his chest where his heart ought to have been.
"It's unlikely. I cannot dream. And if I could, I have no doubt the contents would be limited to my current contract. And as much as you might frighten other people, master, there is nothing at all nightmarish about you to me."
"I can fix that, you know."
Sebastian smiled indulgently and drew her closer still, but as he kissed her he felt a momentary iciness where their lips met. And there it was, briefly, but doubtless present his mind's eye – a cascade of straw-colored curls dazzling even before the splendor of the Throne, and a flash of eyes as beautiful and as deadly as hellebore.
And then the image faded, leaving nothing behind it in the way of memory.
'H' is for 'hellebore'.
