Hey! Quick note! This Chapter is dedicated to anissa32, Abi2, and xXMika-ChanXx. Thank you for reading this, as well as "Master's Eyes"! Your support is greatly appreciated! And thank you for stroking my ego, Anissa, by choosing some of my works as favorites!
And for everyone else who has been reading this regularly, I wish I could mention all your names, but there's so many! I promise that I will later on, but seeing as I'm at work, it's probably not the best thing to waist anymore time writing XD Thank you again for the continued support!

Chapter 10
Hell's Whispered Warning

Sandalwood and sulfur filled the room, the familiar scent pervading Zechs' senses. Groaning, he slowly lifted his head from where it had fallen on the table, cheek sticking for a moment to the loose pages of his latest mission report. Swiping at them, embarrassed, he pulled the papers away and stacked them up, trying to gather his thoughts as he looked around for the cause of the sweet, yet acrid smell.

"Overworking again, Milliardo?" came the sultry voice from behind, hot lips brushing against his ear. Jumping, Zechs eyes jerked open and he spun to face him, only to be greeted by empty space. He hated when the man did those things! Giving a frustrated sigh, he went to turn away when a movement caught his attention. Turning fully towards it, he watched as the shadows shifted and came alive, taking the form of a tall, muscular man who seemed to draw the night in around him, his mere presence threatening to obliterate the surrounding light. Large wings of obsidian unfurled, stretching out the length of the room as he continued to solidify. As usual, when he appeared in such a way, Zechs felt a mix between arousal and exasperation. Deciding to settle with the latter, figuring it was safer in his tired state, Zechs rolled his eyes and reluctantly stood.

"Honestly, Trieze, will you ever get over the flashy entrances?" he deadpanned, giving a little stretch. Familiar laughter danced as the general of Hell's army shook the shadows off like water, demon wings tipped with red folding against his shirtless back. Mouth going dry at the image of the man he once—no…he still—loved, Zechs closed his eyes in an attempt to block him out long enough to gather his bearings.

Trieze would have none of that, though. The moment those beautiful orbs of blue closed, he was behind him, long clawed nails brushing over his hips as lightly calloused hands rubbed the Prince's lean midsection.

"Do I annoy that badly, my sweet angel?" the demon wondered amused, black eyes sparking with mirth. Once again, Zechs jumped, quickly pulling away to gain some distance, refusing to let himself be touched by the person he still hated (or so he told himself). After all…Trieze had used the world for his playground…. Grimacing angrily, he turned to face him, crossing his arms over his chest. Grinding his teeth in a mix of aggravation at himself and at his ex lover, he watched as Trieze tilted his head, an expression of sadness playing across the general's features as a fang lightly brushed across his lip.

No matter how much Zechs tried to hate him, the truth was that he couldn't. Swallowing hard, he attempted to hold up his quickly crumbling resolve, turning his face away from him. Despite both of their desires, there stood to be no plausible way for their relationship to ever be salvaged. Between them stood more than just a mere war waged by mortals. Instead of Oz and Earth Sphere politics, or even death, there now stood the solid brick wall of entire gods between the two. Idly, his fingers came up, brushing over the back of one shoulder as he traced the outline of what looked to be tattooed on white wings. Tingling danced through his nerves as a single feather in the drawing twitched, slipping out of his back to trail to the ground. They were no longer just people with differences of politics…they were creations with differences of wars spanning far beyond the ancient generals own memories….

"Didn't I just banish you yesterday?" he finally demanded with a weak sigh, looking up to him tiredly. Trieze tilted his head to the side, unfazed by the cool words. Instead, his brows furrowed at the exhaustion he saw there, his arms aching to reach out and take the ephemeral man into his arms and soothe away the sorrow that played in icy orbs—kiss him senseless as he had done in the days Hades had released him to wreck havoc on the world with Oz.

"You can't banish me," he replied quietly. "I'm not a devil." Zechs heard the concern and he grimaced in disgust at the need it made him feel.

"But you are a demon," he emphasized, running his fingers through his disheveled, rumpled mass of hair. Trieze moved closer to him slowly, the distance between the two seeming to disappear faster than he was walking. Lips moving up in a smirk, he caught Zechs face between two fingers, forcing him to make eye contact. Zechs froze at the smoldering gaze he saw, breath catching at the desire that lit those black eyes and almost gave them the barest hint of the old green he was used to seeing. It killed him inside, to see them such a dark shade, as it reminded him of the fact that Trieze no longer had his own soul. Whenever a being relinquished their soul, for some reason, their eyes were what changed the most, all color draining and turning the deepest tint of night. It made him hate the general's creator each time he saw them, for it provided a painful reminder as to what stood between himself and his old lover.

Zechs was a creation of a God who let them roam freely…Trieze was a creation of one who kept them in chains. And no matter how much Zechs loved him, Trieze was always far more loyal to his purpose than he was to his emotions, and he knew the General of Hell's army would never turn his back on them for the Prince, just as Zechs was unwilling to turn his back on heaven. Besides, Zechs knew he had far too much to make up for after the war and his own stupidity. His own hands were stained in blood, and he was forced to realize this every night as he looked at the outline of his wings and the crimson color of the inner feathers….

All thoughts were banished suddenly, as Trieze took his hand, slowly bringing his shaking palm up to his lips. Searing a kiss across the delicate flesh, he drew a finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue along the rough, calloused pad of Zechs' thumb, causing the white haired man to whimper. Swallowing hard, Zechs watched closely as he relinquished the digit, slowly bringing it towards Zechs' with a slight smirk…then brushed the over the side of the white haired man's lips.

"You drool in your sleep," Trieze whispered huskily, eyes amused and voice low with mirth. Zechs fumed at the laughing expression etched on his ex's face, and giving out a low growl, he pushed him away violently and headed back to the bathroom. Once his back was turned and face implanted fully into sudsy palms, Trieze allowed his hard demeanor to soften, and he let his longing show. Eyes trailed across the gentle arch of his back, wincing as he saw the red stained feathers and realized that he had also caused that. Down his stare roamed, to the hard hips and thighs, taking a moment to linger appreciatively on his ass. Sighing, he crossed his arms and ran his nails across the golden soldier's cuffs hooked a few inches below his shoulders, fighting off the driving need he felt to go to the white-haired angel and pull him hard up into his arms. It was sad, but no matter how badly he wanted to go back to him, Trieze knew that his angel was off limits.

The stain of blood permanently in the prince's wings served as a constant reminder to the pain the general had caused him, and inside, he knew that no matter what, he could never bring anything more to Zechs than more pain and death. That truth tore him up inside and made him feel sick. Never in his long life had he wanted anything as badly as he wanted him, nor had he felt emotions so strongly. It killed him, but he refused to make Milliardo ever feel a need to hide behind a mask again….

"Trieze…?" Zechs breathed, voice pained. When he had rinsed his face off and opened his eyes, he could see the distinctive loneliness and sorrow in the general's expression, and he couldn't stop that name from sliding past his lips, spoken with the reverie of a prayer. That longing, that need that he saw, nearly had him crossing the room to pull him close to him again.

Instead, it was Trieze who moved against his better judgment, pushing past the bathroom door to grab the hand towel from the sink and press his body up against Zechs' back. Unable to protest, the closeness rendering him speechless, Zechs let Trieze dab the water from his face and the top of his hair, relaxing at the familiarity of the touch. A small smile graced his lips, and he let relaxed back into the general as the cloth was set down and strong arms twined around his waist. Pressing his own hands over his wrists, he stared at the handsome face in the mirror.

"So why are you here?" Zechs wondered quietly, not really wanting to know the answer. Moving to rest his chin on his shoulder, Trieze took the risk and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, earning him a gentle, loving nuzzle. Relief flooded the general. Even if he could never have him back, he needed this time with him.

"Lucifer and Hades have a problem" he whispered, body stiffening the barest degree as he mentioned his creator and his employer.

"What's that?" Zechs asked, feeling a pang of disappointment. Why could Trieze never come on his own?

"Death is about to be unleashed, and Hades is not pleased," the general murmured, a flash of fear dancing behind his stoic guise as he pulled away. Blinking, confused at the uncharacteristic emotion, Zechs turned to face him, feeling a hint of trepidation forming in his stomach.

"So why did you come to me? Do you need a favor from Heaven?" Zechs demanded.

"No," Trieze replied, slowly withdrawing more as he drew himself up, visibly closing back in on himself as the proud demon took the place of the caring man.

"Then what?" the prince demanded, tattoo shifting on his back in irritation as his own wings ached to come out. The nervousness of the other triggered his own fear, his body attempting to go into fight or flight mode. Literally.

"Hades doesn't know I'm here," the General explained, "So I don't have long. Just avoid the four pilots at all costs. The goddess of memories has been provoked, and according to one of the oracles, Death is going to break from Hades chains." Brows furrowing at the warning, Zechs leaned back against the bathroom counter. Gods, but he hated the Greek pantheon and all their drama! In the short time he had known of their actual existence, he had grown a strong disliking for them all. You would think they had nothing better to do than torment each other, enslave mortals, and eat babies or something…or, in the case of Zeus, have enough children with anything that moved and/or once moved, to repopulate China 10 times over.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked curiously. While Trieze was known to break direct orders if it suited him, he never did so without a reason.

"Because…" the general whispered sadly, shoulder's slumping and black wings slightly moving to wrap around himself. "I want you to live long enough to be happy…even if it's not with me."

And with that, Trieze was gone, leaving behind the smell of sandalwood and sulfur, and Zechs' breaking heart.