I am aro ace so please forgive this entire chapter. I tried, really I did.

Chapter 9: O'er stony mountains cold and grey

Uriel didn't even bother reporting back this time.

"I can't believe him," she said to Kelev, as they emerged from the rift between Above and Below. "He must have left as soon as he woke. Does he even know what became of Azrael?" Of her? Of course he could have heard it from the staff, but the fact that he hadn't stopped to speak with her stung. They needed to find him before he did something foolish…

"He cannot possibly have recovered in such a short time," she went on, surveying the area they had emerged in. The Dark Lord's stronghold lay nested in high, jagged mountains, but Kelev took off across the steep surface and found the path with ease—of course, he must have been here before. She followed without delay. "Could he not have waited if he truly wanted to try again? Could he not have seen to Azrael's recovery first? Ever has he been a being of action, but he is also a tactician and a leader. What could possibly justify such impatience?"

Kelev whined sympathetically as he ran. She hated to drag him back here so soon, only days after his escape, but his sense of smell would be invaluable in finding Abaddon. Again. And he had not hesitated to follow her when she had prepared hastily to leave; with her until the end, then, or at least until she had to send him away.

Uriel herself had no desire to be here. She would never allow another to fetch Abaddon, but the thought of returning had carved a pit in her chest she'd done her best to ignore. She was a warrior of the Hellguard: her strength must last far longer than that.

"…I have never disobeyed a request Abaddon has made of me, official or otherwise," Uriel remarked out loud. He expected unquestioning obedience, and she knew none who withheld it from him. "I suppose it never occurred to him that I would start now."

Kelev stopped suddenly, causing Uriel to nearly pass him by; he stood on alert, ears pointing forward and listening intently.

"Wh—"

He barked viciously, cutting her off, and darted away—over a boulder, around a cliff, yowling like the hellhound he appeared to be. Snapping to attention Uriel followed, sword in hand, rounding the corner and—

Stopping at the sight of not one, but two black beasts, one sporting a rider swathed in red.

Silver hair. Black blade.

"Horseman!" Uriel exclaimed, surprise seeping into her voice.

He hadn't even waited for her greeting; his blade came down as she spoke and too late Uriel realized who his target must have been, but Kelev was ready for it. He dived aside and vanished into the darkness, leaping over a break in the cliff and disappearing from sight.

War's mouth pulled back in annoyance, and Ruin snorted in agitation: all three of them, horse, rider and angel waited, but Kelev did not appear again.

Well, Uriel thought, War was certainly neither angel nor demon. But she'd never thought of Kelev as a coward…

"…You are alone," War noted, apparently deciding that the hellhound would not return. Or else that Ruin would hear it before it drew too near…

"I came here in search of something," Uriel said. War tended to appreciate sincerity. "I had no intention of starting a fight."

"And your quarry travels alone," War guessed.

Uriel brandished her blade at him before she could stop herself, but though Ruin pawed restlessly at the ground War only narrowed his eyes. "Heaven's business here is Heaven's alone! I suggest you return to yours, Horseman."

"Our business is the same," War said, causing Uriel's heart to sink. "The Charred Council has no more desire to see Abaddon face the Prince of Lies than Heaven does."

Spies, Uriel thought bitterly, but did not say; Heaven had its spies as well, and the Charred Council would not be half as competent at its job without them.

"He will fail," War went on, perhaps mistaking her expression for suspicion, "and tip the Balance in Hell's favor when he Falls."

Uriel bristled, despite having thought the same thing. "Abaddon would never—"

"All in Hell's clutches Fall eventually. The Prince of Lies would not give up such a valuable servant." War's grip on Chaoseater relaxed, but otherwise he was stock-still, and Uriel knew he stood ready for an attack if she lost her patience. "We would prevent that, one way or another."

One way or another.

"You won't kill Abaddon," Uriel declared.

"Not if he can be persuaded."

And War was nothing if not 'persuasive'. But, Uriel thought uneasily, none had yet managed to alter Abaddon's course, either through counsel or force.

"But otherwise?"

"We will uphold the Balance," War said, in a tone that left no room for argument.

Uriel's grip on her blade tightened. "I will go with you."

"No."

Her eyes widened. "You know what he wants! If anyone can persuade him, I can!"

"And if not?" The line of War's mouth thinned. "Would you fight your liege? Could you strike him down, even for his own safety? Knowing what must await him in the White City?"

That was true. No matter what horrors he would face in Hell if captured, he still had little to look forward to at home. Too valuable to demote, but no matter the official consequences he would always carry the stigma of having broken the law for love. Without the glory of unexpected triumph, he would return having broken his word twice over, and nothing to show for it.

It was unfair, Uriel thought. If she brought him home now, his otherwise shining record would be stained irreparably. If he succeeded, all would be forgiven, and they would call him a hero and sing of him forever…

War shook his head at her silence.

"Return home," he said. "We will find Abaddon if we can."

Uriel's thoughts returned to the present. "You'll kill him! I know he won't be convinced."

"Then let him serve as an example to the rest of your kind."

Steeling herself, she rose a little higher in the air. "You'll have to kill me first, Horseman."

War was entirely unconcerned. "So be it."

When he pulled on the reins Ruin reared with a mighty cry, flames bursting from his hooves, and at the very peak of the impressive show Kelev struck.

He leaped with a snarl, claws outstretched, and bowled the great warhorse over. Its rider was thrown clear from the saddle, and once on his side Ruin could do nothing to defend himself from the hound tearing at his flesh.

War hastily pushed himself up on an elbow, and seeing Ruin's predicament his eyes blazed with sudden rage.

With a cry Uriel dived, swinging her sword, but the horseman roared and knocked her away like an insect. Her sword tumbled uselessly from her grip.

"War!"

No use. War was blind and deaf to all but his companion's danger, and no prophecy would protect Kelev from him.

He had a blade, but Uriel had wings; she shot forth and collided with him, but he was sturdier on the ground than Samael had been in the air, and there was no time to waste gaining speed—

A gauntlet clawed at her collar and War yanked her over his shoulder, barely noticing as her wings slammed into his head on the way. Unable to regain her feet, Uriel grasped—at him, his hand, anything—

—And pried Chaoseater from his grip as easily as though he were a child.

War actually let go in his shock, Ruin temporarily forgotten. He looked about as bewildered as Uriel felt when she scrambled upright, his mouth falling open in disbelief.

He was wide open, and Uriel was never one to let an opportunity pass her by.

Chaoseater cracked across his skull with more strength than Uriel was capable of, and with one last astonished look its rightful wielder collapsed in a heap.

Uriel could not help but stand there and stare at him dumbly, almost not believing what had just happened.

A whine behind her brought Uriel back to reality, and she turned to find that Ruin had finally thrown Kelev off, concern and anger lending him the strength to struggle upright. And behind her, War stirred already.

"Run!" she cried, and shot off, back the way she came and then down their original path. Kelev was not far behind her, she could hear, but she dared not look upon the Horseman and rekindle his fury.

Instead, she turned her gaze to the black weapon she now carried. It had been neither luck nor strength that freed it from War's hand.

"If this is how you treat your owner," Uriel told it, "I hate to think what you might do to me."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, someone laughed.

At least this time Abaddon appeared where he intended, and not in Samael's throne room before a very inhospitable host.

The healers had done their work well as always, and with such a hardy constitution it was not long before he had regained consciousness despite all their attempts to keep him from it. Aching but determined, there was little that could keep him confined to a bed if he had a mind to be elsewhere.

Azrael had not awoken.

Swathed in bandages and unusually still, the sorcerer had seemed much smaller than Abaddon remembered him. He was not generally in danger of physical attack when he went to battle, and though this was far from the first time he'd been so grievously injured it certainly was the first time it had happened on account of Abaddon.

He hadn't wanted to go to Hell, but by the Creator he'd done his best once there.

Abaddon had written his note and left after that. The sooner he finished the better and… knowing Uriel was safe had been enough for him.

Now he flew low among the mountains, knowing better than to repeat Azrael's mistake of arriving right at the Dark Lord's gates. He knew to remain hidden, but beyond that there was nothing resembling a plan forming in his mind. Without Azrael there was no reason for anyone to believe he'd come for anything other than a fight. He could not battle his way to the Prince of Lies all by himself. Abaddon knew he had to keep his purpose secret for any hope of success, but otherwise he despaired of what to do.

Alone in Hell Abaddon was feeling particularly honest with himself, and he cursed his inconvenient pride. Return with a jewel in hand. Now for his dignity as much as his feelings.

One thing was for certain: he did not want to be seen until he decided what to do. So he kept low, and split his attention between keeping an eye out for stray demons and considering his options.

Some time after his arrival (he was tragically familiar with the lay of the land here, he thought, but such familiarity came with living for so long) there was an unfortunately familiar sound behind him. Startled, he darted to the side as he turned around; he'd had quite enough of the hounds of the Pit, thank you very much, but he couldn't afford to ignore…

There was a hellhound as expected, a black brute of a beast with patchy fur, but trailing after it in the air was something not remotely of Hell—all gold and silver, glowing with the familiar light of Heaven.

Uriel!

"Don't!" she called, as his gaze returned to the hound. He stopped himself and watched as she let herself fall, felt every muscle go stiff when she wrapped her arms around the demonic beast.

…What?

He longed for demonic blood, but Uriel was still, and the dog made no move to harm her. Reluctantly, Abaddon instead went down to greet them—no use in running from her now.

He stopped midflight when he caught sight of the weapon in her hand.

"Is that—?!"

"Abaddon!" Uriel left the hound's side to meet him, black blade in hand. Abaddon wanted to say something, anything, to head off the wave of ire he would no doubt face if he gave her the first word, but his mind was filled with bewildered questions instead. If he was curious about the dog, that was nothing compared to his feelings about how she might have obtained Chaoseater, of all things.

Once before him Uriel hesitated, looking conflicted, but Abaddon watched as she summoned up her courage and spoke:

"Did you believe I would remain behind as you ran off to endanger your life pointlessly? Again?"

Abaddon shook his head. He hadn't known what to think when he wrote that note, but it had seemed necessary at the time. "I had hoped…"

"I followed you the first time on the Assembly's orders," she said. "But now I come of my own volition. How could you?! After all I have done to bring you home safely you simply leave the moment you are able?"

Abaddon found himself setting his shoulders back, raising his chin in a gesture reminiscent of defiance even as guilt squirmed in his gut. "My decision has not changed."

"Could you not wait even a day? Could you not spare a single moment to speak with me, or any of the others who have been waiting anxiously for your return? Did you have to leave right away?"

"Perhaps I was irrational," Abaddon conceded, silently grateful when Uriel did not cut him off right there. "But as I said, my decision has not changed—I am still determined to see this through, and the quicker we see the end of this the better."

Uriel puffed up indignantly, in that way she always did. "I simply wonder if you realize how absurd you appear. Not a single thing you have done, from the moment you asked leave to marry me, has made sense to anyone else."

She deflated then, apparently at a loss, and suddenly Abaddon ached for her. He… would not trade places with her, he decided, would much rather be the one given a choice in the matter.

He let himself down on the ground—it felt solid and reassuring, a much better place to have the conversation than in the air—and she followed, regaining her words as she landed.

"We would have been together forever anyway," she said. "Is my friendship not good enough for you?"

"Above all else, your friendship is what I cherish most!" Abaddon said fiercely. "But though the law states that it is not the emotion, but the confession which is a crime—willful dereliction of duty!—and that remaining silent is the noble choice, I cannot say that it is a choice at all. The decision has been made for me, and that knowledge sours what would otherwise have been a source of silent joy."

He'd had other, less forbidden loves, Abaddon remembered bitterly. Though they had all ended equally unfulfilled, none of them had inspired this terrible, heart-stopping feeling that kept him awake at night, and invariably followed after his softer thoughts.

"I won't stand it any longer," he said. "I'll get rid of it, or lose everything trying. You may call me selfish if you wish, but if I do nothing I am certain it will swallow me until I revile our White City, and the lot I have been dealt, with all the passion I had once used to defend it."

"Is the weight of that anguish equal to the weight of what you will endure should you fail?"

"Yes," Abaddon said. "If I am to become an enemy of Heaven, then I would rather regret something I did than something I did not do."

A muscle in Uriel's jaw tightened. "You are proud, and will not admit that you have walked into a trap of your own making."

She didn't have to be so blunt about it. "That is true. I can no longer return until I have succeeded, for fear of losing the respect others once held in my word."

But, he didn't say, he couldn't quite bring himself to see it as a flaw. Let it not be said that Abaddon did not keep his word!

Uriel made a strange expression, and if Abaddon had not known better he might have thought her… bitter.

"That is why I am not here to take you back," she said. "I am going with you."

Abaddon's mouth fell open, and a cold lance of fear shot through him.

"Do not argue! I was content before all of this! I never cared about that which lay between us; I was happy to stand by your side, and serve you as your most trusted lieutenant. I wanted nothing more. But now if we return to Heaven we shall be two bitter angels who cannot find happiness in each other, or even the memory of each other should I return alone and leave you here to fail. I am going with you, and we shall meet our fate together, whatever it may be."

In an increasingly common occurrence something in Abaddon's chest tightened. If there was one thing he did not want, it was to be responsible for Uriel's life as well.

She stepped forward, her face set obstinately. "I don't suppose you have a plan?"

Abaddon was still so taken aback he could not help but answer honestly. "No." And then, to change the subject: "Where did you get that?"

Uriel scowled, but looked down at her blade as though she'd forgotten it was there. Despite its rough material Chaoseater appeared to gleam in the infernal light. "I was accosted by the Horseman War on my way here; he had also come searching for you, and we came to blows over how to handle all of this. I believe it knows we are on our way to meet the Prince of Lies and wishes to accompany us—it turned on War when I snatched at it, and here it is."

"It's a demonic blade," Abaddon reminded her.

"I know that! Merely carrying it has taken an enormous effort." She scowled even deeper. "But my own sword is now out of reach, and anything that affords us an advantage is priceless at this point."

That was true, but Abaddon was not looking forward to eventually returning it to its rightful owner. It was frightening enough to know how close Uriel must have come to dying on its edge…

He turned his attention to the hellhound, patiently waiting where Uriel had stopped it. "And that?"

Uriel turned around, and the hound was at her side in an instant, looking at Abaddon with stony eyes.

"This is Kelev," Uriel said. "He was a servant of Lilith. I ran into her on my way to find you—"

Abaddon tensed but said nothing.

"—and he helped me escape. Now he is a friend. And I do not believe he is actually a demon," she went on without pause, and Abaddon remembered briefly that many at the healing wards had spoken of Uriel's 'infernal new pet' and her vain attempts to defend it: "Because quite frankly he seems much smarter than that, and mere hellhounds are rarely beasts of prophecy as he is."

"What kind of prophecy?"

"Kelev cannot be killed or defeated by angels or demons. And before you ask, I point out that he once belonged to Lilith, and the Prince of Lies is probably going to recognize his own dog." She shook her head. "Kelev bested Samael through the element of surprise, but if the Dark Lord allowed Lilith to keep him without creating some failsafe for this exact circumstance then he is an utter fool."

Kelev did not look like a friend to Abaddon—it stared at him with a look that told the archangel exactly what the hound thought of him and his decisions—but if it had faced Samael on Uriel's behalf, then Abaddon probably owed it his life.

And Azrael's.

"If you trust it, then I will," he said. "But it is true: we will need a plan, and we do not have one."

Uriel frowned thoughtfully. "Kelev ought to know of some secret way into the fortress. If we remain unnoticed, we could simply make our way to the throne room and leave him to deal with the other inhabitants while we obtain the jewel."

Abaddon growled, but made no argument. They had no other ideas. "That will do for now. Let us go, then, and may history judge our choices."

And so one became three: Abaddon took off, and with one last affectionate rub of Kelev's head Uriel followed, and together they made their way to Hell's most infamous citadel.