Category: Darksiders I & II
Rating: M
Couples: Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC
Warnings: AU, Disturbing Imagery
Chapter: 58
Copyright: Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me
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"Do you think they'll come?" Zeruch placed around the plain, too restless to stand still.
"There is little reason for them not to." Azrael was seated on a rock nearby, folding his arms neatly in front of him. "After all, the message did say we wanted to talk about Death's conduct towards me, which could be considered a grave insult and might even provoke hostilities with the Charred Council."
"You were too friendly to send a message directly to the Pale Horseman instead of the Charred Council, Azrael. He was out of his jurisdiction to... threaten you." Abaddon leaned against a boulder near where Azrael was seated.
"He just wanted his brother." Gabriel countered, looking at the General beside her. The two scholars were beginning to wonder if it had not been a mistake to ask the short-tempered male to come. "And Azrael can always send a message to the Council should they not heed this one."
With a grumble, Abaddon let it be and watched his adopted son still pacing around. The two warriors had taken the news that Death was apparently Zeruch's older brother quite interesting.
The young male's wings were ruffled and twitching; his face had a nervous look. He wondered out loud: "How long do you think it will take them to arrive here?"
"Not long." Gabriel answered, looking further down the plain, "I would even say that they have arrived."
At the other side of the grassy expanse, a portal was shimmering into existence.
"Indeed." Azrael got up from his seat, walking over to his son and lover. "I would say so as well." He briefly rested his hand on Zeruch's trembling arm. "Hail, Horsemen!" He raised his voice, greeting the three riders approaching them.
The other three people followed the Archangel's example and hailed them, though Abaddon's Hail sounded the most annoyed, while Zeruch couldn't remove his eyes from the Horsemen.
Death neared the group of angels. "Greetings Azrael, Abaddon and...Zeruch..." Mentally he cursed the scholar for bringing his son with him. Behind his mask, he raised one eyebrow at the female also present. Who the Hell was that?
"Death, Strife, Fury." Azrael bowed lightly. "Thank you for arriving on such short notice." He looked at the Horsemen. "But I deemed it better we get some uncomfortable... misunderstandings out of the way before they start trouble."
"I'd have expected you to jump at the excuse to complain to the Charred Council." Strife duly answered, eyes narrowing a bit as they passed over the younger angel.
Zeruch moved in discomfort when he noticed how the Horsemen were looking at him. He wanted to blurt out all the questions he had, however he managed to contain himself.
"I can assume you want an apology for my conduct?" Death asked in a flat tone.
Abaddon muttered darkly behind Azrael. "Damn right you are."
"Actually..." Azrael threw a light glare over his shoulder at Abaddon. "It is I who must apologize to you, Horseman." He turned to Death, bowing deeper this time. "My sincere apologies."
Strife and Fury blinked in surprise, looking from the Archangel to their brother. From what he had told them, the Firstborn had been in the wrong, not the angel. Had they missed something?
Death stared in surprise at the bowing angel; "What do you mean? I was the one who falsely accused you and attacked you." Never in his wildest dreams had he expected this.
"But it was I who was being dishonest with you, Horseman." Azrael looked up again, folding his hands in front of him. "Because of my fear of people overhearing, I could not tell you that you had it right the entire time." He looked at his son, gesturing for the young warrior to step forward. "Zeruch IS a Nephilim."
Obeying his father, Zeruch stepped forward. He studied the Horsemen; the only one he really recognized was the female and the name of the White Horseman.
Death was speechless, it was like his brain stopped working. Is it really possible that his search was over? He finally found his youngest sibling? Alive and well?
"I found him with Vulgrim many millennia ago. Taking him in, I failed to find his family and took him as my child." Azrael told the Nephilim, throat tight with his emotion. "Until now, that is."
Strife got of his horse, walking slowly towards Zeruch. Taking off his helmet, he reached for the warrior's face. "It is you... brat."
With a grin, Zeruch replied back: "Yes... Stwife" His eyes were gleaming with tears of happiness.
Strife made a face. "You still did not grow out of butchering my name?" His face became a grin and he hugged the youngest Nephilim. "I'm sorry I let them take you, baby-brother."
Fury also got off her horse, walking over to her two brothers.
"It wasn't your fault, Strife. I thought I would never see you again due to your wound." Looking up, Zeruch saw his sister approaching them.
Like a zombie, Death stiffly dismounted his horse. He wasn't sure, if this wasn't a dream.
"It was a damn close call, let me tell you." Strife told his brother as he moved aside to let Fury reach him.
"Creator, what did they feed you in Heaven!?" The female exclaimed as she looked him over. "You're bigger than all of us!"
"I probably ate Azrael's pantry completely empty... and he has a wonderful cook. She always looks sad if you don't at least take seconds." He chuckled at the memories. He then gave his sister a big bear-hug. "Missed you too, sis."
Death neared them until he was a few paces from them. He waited until Zeruch was finished hugging Fury.
"No shit." Strife looked Zeruch over. "Man, you are bloody overfed."
Fury giggled lightly at that, one hand still on her brother's arm.
Zeruch then noticed his eldest brother standing near them. With an awkward smile, Zeruch whispered: "I want to say sor-"
Cutting Zeruch off of his attempt to apologise, Death shook his head and hugged his long lost brother. "No need", Death's voice sounded hoarse and less stable than normal.