A/N: Hihi! So, I did a little Heaven building here, not much but a little. Everybody seems to agree on Gabriel's wings being golden and Michael's wings being white, but I've never found a...template, if you will, for Lucifer. His Grace was the brightest and he was the most beautiful, yes, buuuut...that didn't really help me. So, as I was writing this part, this image of him just popped into my head and refused to leave and I liked it :)
I've also realized that Gabriel's fondness of the word 'kiddo' is A) incredibly human, B) that word didn't exist at this point in time, C) he probably didn't pick it up until after he'd been on earth for awhile. I refused to change it because it almost seemed like his signature. You hear that word and you automatically know who's talking. Besides, maybe he's the one that introduced the word to humanity ;)
Anyhoo, enjoy and let me know what you think! Honestly, guys, I don't bite.
He took flight, heading for the Citadel that stood in the center of Heaven, where his father resided. He landed in the courtyard and his Grace rolled out from him like a wave, startling the Angels tending the trees and flowers. Once, they would have greeted him by name, now, they ducked their heads, both out of respect and fear. In the past, he had tried to convince them that he hadn't changed, tried to get them to treat him like their brother, but his efforts had failed. Some of the bolder ones might dare to engage him in a formal conversation, but they were few and none dared speak to him casually.
He paused outside and lifted his face, listening to the choir's ceaseless praising and the sense of love and adoration that washed over him was comforting. He opened his Grace to them, joining them briefly and felt their surprise at his presence. They never faltered in their song and welcomed him. He felt their joy and was surprised to find that it had grown with the realization that an Archangel had joined them. Once, Lucifer had led them but those days had passed and he had begun to fear they would never come again.
With a regretful sigh, Gabriel withdrew from the choir and strode into the Citadel. Lamps burning bright with holy oil lined the walls, bathing the alabaster walls in golden light. He approached the altar in the center of the room. Like the courtyard outside and the Garden that lay deeper in Heaven's center, this room was constantly tended, the lamps kept full of oil and the altar supplied with the sweet scent of incense that rose from the coals. He put his hand on the golden rim, finding it cool to the touch despite the heat it contained.
"Lucifer," he called, his voice uncharacteristically low and grim.
A moment later, a chill swept through the room, like a wind on Earth bearing snow.
"Odd to find you in the Mercy Room, Gabriel," Lucifer's deep, throaty chime filled the space effortlessly.
"Actually, it's quite appropriate," Gabriel remarked without turning around.
Lucifer sighed deeply. "We have discussed this, Gabriel."
"No we haven't," Gabriel replied. "Not this."
"You want the fighting to stop, little brother," Lucifer said. "I understand. I do too. But I will not lower myself and kneel in the mud before a creature that is beneath me."
"If Dad could touch that mud with his bare hands, why can't you?" the retort left Gabriel's mouth before he had a chance to consider his words. Lucifer's Grace flared in a warning and he winced. "This isn't why I wanted to talk to you."
Lucifer came to stand beside him and for the first time in a very long time, he was no longer a threatening presence, Michael's rival, he was an older brother.
"What troubles you?" he asked.
Gabriel couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to see the cold indifference in Lucifer's eyes. "You nearly killed a Fledgling today," he said quietly.
"Why was it outside the garden's protections?" Lucifer asked coolly, incredibly displeased with the idea that any of the Fledglings were not being minded properly…though, apparently not so much with the idea that he had harmed one of them.
"He wasn't," Gabriel replied. "If he had been, he would have been obliterated."
"I shall have the wards examined," Lucifer said, actually sounding concerned but still unapologetic.
"That isn't the problem, Lucifer!" Gabriel exclaimed. This was why he'd come to the Mercy Room. "Don't you understand? One of our siblings nearly died because of you and Michael!"
Lucifer scoffed. "You would do better to take this up with him."
"Michael doesn't care, Lucifer!" Gabriel told him, finally looking at his brother's impassive face. "He never did! Not really. But you…you do. Or at least, you used to."
Lucifer cast a sidelong glance at him, an older brother's silent warning to mind his words.
"Lucifer," Gabriel didn't bother to try and conceal the pleading note in his voice. "It was you! Not Michael. The wards are fine. But for some reason they didn't protect him. I don't know why. His Grace is…different…more sensitive. And he was dying when I found him, Lucifer! His Grace was collapsing!"
Lucifer's gaze snapped around to him and Gabriel was relieved to at least see that his brother hadn't forgotten what that meant, how terrible a death that would have been.
"Please," Gabriel begged. "I won't believe that you want us to be harmed. I won't believe that you don't care but…something—something has to…"
Lucifer glanced away, a troubled look on his face. "Surely, you understand, Gabriel, why I contend with Michael."
"Because you're both arrogant prigs?" Gabriel muttered.
Lucifer ignored him. "You are right. I do not want to see any of us harmed, especially the little ones," his deep, melodic voice was soothing. "But that is why Michael and I cannot agree—why I will not bow before such low creatures! Why should we, who are crafted from the very essence of Heaven be subjugated to creatures born of dust?!"
Gabriel's wings drooped as he listened to his brother's argument, yet again. The same argument he made each time he fought with Michael.
"If we bow," Lucifer continued, lowering his voice once more, "what do you think will become of us? Do you not see that the creatures of Earth fear us? Do you know what that fear will become when it ceases to be fear? I want to protect our family."
"This isn't what I wanted to talk about!" Gabriel insisted. "It's all well and good to want to keep us safe but what about today? Eliyon nearly died because of yours and Michael's fight! What's the point of protecting us if we're all going to die from you two fighting about protecting us!?"
Lucifer slanted his eyes at him.
"Don't look at me like that!" Gabriel retorted. "You know I'm right!"
Lucifer sighed. "You have a point," he said. "Walk with me, Gabriel." He led the way outside. He paused in the courtyard and flexed his wings, stretching them with a sigh of satisfaction. The feathers were such a dark blue that they were nearly black and his Grace, the brightest Grace in Heaven, seemed to glow even brighter by contrast.
"You are right," he told Gabriel. "Our family must be protected. Even from ourselves, at times. The others should not suffer from our quarrel."
Gabriel relaxed, his shoulders dropping with relief. "Thank you," he said with a faint smile, which Lucifer returned.
Suddenly, another immense presence filled the courtyard and Michael landed, his pure, white wings flared to slow his descent. When he looked up, his relaxed expression cooled and he lifted his chin to glare at Lucifer.
"Michael," Lucifer greeted him with a nod.
Michael turned his glare on Gabriel. "Did you really think the Mercy Room would improve your chances of reasoning with him?"
"Don't you have better things to do than watch me?" Gabriel said disparagingly.
"It wasn't you I was watching," Michael returned coolly, his emerald eyes flicking over to Lucifer.
Lucifer's only reply was a slight, uncaring lift of his chin.
"A Fledgling nearly died today," Gabriel informed him flatly.
Alarm flickered in Michael's eyes. "How?"
"Oh, when your little spat got out of control—" he included both brothers in his glare, "—again."
Michael looked thoughtful for a moment, recalling his earlier altercation with Lucifer and when such a thing might have occurred.
"Why was it outside the garden?" he asked.
"He wasn't!" Gabriel snapped. "And the wards are fine."
Michael shook his head. "That isn't possible," he stated. "For a Fledgling to be harmed inside the garden, the protections must be flawed somehow. They must be checked immediately."
Gabriel's amber eyes widened with fury at the implied order. "Why don't you handle that then?" he suggested acidly. "Since if they were damaged, it was because of you two!"
Lucifer dropped a hand onto his shoulder. "I will check the wards, Gabriel," he assured him. "It was my Grace that caused the damage and so, it should be my Grace that repairs it. I will ensure that they are strengthened, as well. The little ones should not have to suffer from our disagreement."
"There should be no disagreement," Michael hissed.
Lucifer's crystal eyes sparked with anger and the air around them suddenly tightened. "Michael," he warned.
"It is Father's will," Michael growled.
"Since when is it your job to make sure he does what he's told?!" Gabriel shouted in frustrated anger.
"I am Heaven's Commander," Michael's voice rumbled with his building wrath.
"And I am the Morningstar," Lucifer responded, his voice low with pride as the chill of his Grace washed over them both. Then, it receded and his expression relaxed. "I came to listen to a brother's concern, not to fight. Where is the little one, Gabriel?" he asked, dismissing Michael.
"In my aerie," Gabriel replied and Michael stiffened visibly.
"You removed him from the garden?" he demanded in a dangerously low voice.
Gabriel snapped around to glare at him, letting his own Grace flare slightly. "Yes! Because it wasn't safe for him there! And don't you dare tell me that it isn't 'proper'!"
"It isn't proper," Michael retorted, then he softened. "But I can see why you would feel it was necessary."
"Well, I'm glad you can see that!" Gabriel bit out acidly.
Michael ignored the jab and strode past them into the Citadel. "Try and stay out of trouble," he called dryly.
"Now you're giving impossible orders to Gabriel?" Lucifer quipped sarcastically.
Michael shot a look over his shoulder. "I was talking to you," he told Lucifer, and for once he sounded like their brother instead of Heaven's Commander. "I have little confidence in Gabriel's abilities in that regard."
Gabriel watched him leave and scuffed his shoe against the flagstone walk. "I miss these arguments," he said sadly.
"Perhaps, one day he will understand," Lucifer said.
"Yeah," Gabriel said dismally, turning to leave. "Because we both know you won't give an inch."
He took flight, heading for his aerie, worried that he had been gone for too long. Eliyon was still sleeping, curled over on his side away from the door. Gabriel sighed with relief and approached the bed.
"Hey, kiddo," he said, patting the Fledgling's tousled head. "I still don't know what to do with you."
His gaze fell to Eliyon's wings and he finally had a moment to study them. They were small and the dark, bronze color seemed swirled, as though it was liquid, almost as unusual as his eyes. He cocked his head curiously, seeing true feathers growing through the soft down.
Eliyon was older than he'd realized.
He scooped him up and laid down on the bed, placing the Fledgling on his wings once more. He opened his Grace and Eliyon's immediately grasped it and he felt a happy tremor shift through him from the Fledgling.
Suddenly, a thought struck him. Is that it?
Ever so gently, he examined Eliyon's Grace again. The glow was brighter, healthier, but still small and close and even connected to an Archangel's, it didn't flare into a flame. Instead, it simply shimmered more, like one of the hot coals in the altar when it caught a draft. Gabriel flared his Grace slightly, prodding it curiously and the little ember did flare then, spearing into him viciously and he reared back.
"Agh!" he gasped, shaking his head painfully. "That…actually…kind of hurt," he muttered in shock. He looked at Eliyon only to find that he was still sleeping peacefully. The only change was that one little hand gripped his feathers and he had once again snuggled into the soft down.
Just like a coal in the altar, a gentle breeze would keep it alive and hot and anything more risked creating a retaliating flame, or snuffing it out completely.
"That's why they couldn't connect with your Grace," he said with slow realization. Then, he shook his head, at a loss. "Now, I really don't know what to do with you!"