It had come out of nowhere, an attack made by a furious Prince outside the gates, they had not been happy that they had been passed over in naming someone as regent in the Morningstar's stead while he was away. The Powers had been a nearly unbeatable force, cutting through them as if they were canon fodder, but slowed down as the Knights of Hell fell into the fight too. The Principalities joined in on the fray, standing at the Power's backs when it came to having their six. Zaveriel and Nisroc wound up back to back, slashing and hacking in sync with each other, as the tap on his back the older angel knelt down, the messenger swinging his double-edged staff over his head, taking the heads off the two demon knights in one foul swoop.

The messengers were quick and lithe, perhaps not as muscularly as their Power companions, but held their own with ease. They were not to be underestimated.

Grigori jumped into the fray, backing against the Principalities and Powers, they had been cast just as their Commander had, and while the others fought with honor (though some might turn an eye here and there) the Grigori had once been on the other side and fought by their own rules, even if it meant fighting dirty.

"Down!"

Zaveriel had drawn his bow, notched three arrows, and gave the command that the Power chief followed in quick succession, bending over on himself. The young messenger flipped over his back, letting his arrows go, and they found their home in three demons' temples. Though the younger angel was a bit on the spazzed side there was no one else Nisroc would rather have fighting at his back, the other was an energetic kid, but he had perhaps the best aim in all the Legions.

"Kokabiel!"

The Grigori fighting at the Power's left turned at the sound of her name, thick black ponytail whipping around as she turned, Semyaza, her captain, was knelt with his fingers interlocked together. She nodded silently and took a running start, stepped into his hands, and was thrown up into the air. She flipped once and dove, her short sword held above her head ready to strike, and she cut her sword deep into the flesh of a Prince. Dumah howled in pain, backing away to grab at her shoulder. Lucifer looked surprised at her sudden appearance but quickly adapted into a fighting style working around the advantage of having her at his side. She was a short angel, but fierce, and spun her two daggers with ease, kneeling in front of him and fighting from underneath.

"Move!"

Nisroc stumbled forward as hands plowed into his lower back and turned in time to see the young messenger get smacked on the side of the head with the butt of a sword. He stumbled back slightly dazed for a moment and swung his blade around to chop the demons head off. It concerned him from there, the messenger didn't seem to recover and every time he looked over the younger was shaking his head as if to clear it.

The battle they fought was long and fierce, but eventually the Princes were cut down; one by one (Kokabiel had taken enjoyment on being the one to behead Dumah) and they retreated.

From that point the head Power kept his watch over the messenger that had fought at his side dutifully. Somehow, he had managed to keep under the Healers attentions, though perhaps it had something to do with the dozens of other needing tending to too, he returned to bind the wound he had procured on his left forearm and he was able to finally speak his piece.

"You took a heavy blow. Perhaps you should get it looked after."

The messenger waved him off, "It was just a knock. I'll be okay." Despite his words the Power reached out quickly to catch him as he nearly fell as he turned to step away. The messenger thanked him softly and moved on to the next, working just as diligently as the other healers tending to the wounded.

Slowly the Infirmary started to empty, other Legions from various choirs heading back to their own homes to rest and recover there, the Powers waited on each other and took leave as one unit. Nisroc had whispered something to the Healer as he made his leave, and from where he was holding himself up on the edge of a bed, Zaveriel could see their eyes turn to him.

"Zaves?"

The little voice startled him from his thoughts, and he turned his head, perhaps a bit too quickly, to see the wide eyes of his greatest friend looking up at him. The fledgling had been hidden deep within the Aerie at the start of the attack, huddled under Gabriel's desk, and must have snuck out sometime during the fight or soon after.

"Hey."

"You're hurt.", she pointed to the side of his head where the feeling of warm blood was trickling down the side of his temple. "You should tell someone so they can help."

"I do believe she has made a good point."

The deep familiar voice of his old commander had him flinching, casting his friend a betrayed look, she giggled and scurried off to see how her master was faring. The young messenger turned slowly, to meet the electric blue eyes of the Healer, he reached out a hand and prodded at the wound on his temple with gentle fingers, but he still flinched at the touch.

"Why didn't you say something?", he was led to one of the empty beds with a gentle grip on his left arm and pushed to sit, and then to lay. The Healer brushed his hair back to examine the wound closer. "You could have serious damage, I would have thought I taught you better to hide an injury, especially to the head."

"What can I say?", he tried to smile cheekily up to his former flock master, "I can be a bit hardheaded."

"If you didn't possibly have a concussion, I would smack you over the head myself. This is no joking matter Zaveriel."

"I'm sorry."

He looked down again, a bit more subdued, as the Healer reached for a rag to dab away the dripping blood and see to the wound more closely then before. Raphael hummed as he examined it, nodding to himself, reaching for some poultice to rub over it and a bandage to wrap around it.

"Does your master know?"

"No."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?", the Healer finished binding it and looked down to him, "At the very least you could have told me. It hurts that I had to find out from another giving me soft warning."

Zaveriel looked down again, "I've never really come for help though."

"Oh, I know, don't forget I was your original master. I know you more then you think I do. You've always been one to try and deal with injuries on your own." The younger angel nodded, and he tapped the underside of his chin until he looked up, "But you are no longer a fledgling. Such things won't be tolerated even if I am slightly more fond of you."

The young messenger shrugged, wincing when it cause his head to throb, and lowered his shoulders again.

"I didn't want to be a burden."

"That's nonsense and you know it. Have I ever said such things about you?"

"Well, no but- "

"No butts, next time I will be forced to tell your master, lean back.", he stared up at his former master as he did as he was told, feeling the blanket be pulled over him and slightly tucked, not breaking his stare, "You mean you won't tell my boss-man?"

"Not this time, no, but I won't be so kind if this should happen again.", and large dark hand rubbed at his head gently, mindful of the ache, but tender in affection, "And in return you will come visit more. I feel as though the only time I see you is when you are either injured or playing tricks on us with that little friend of yours."

"I'm a busy guy, old boss-man."

"Then make time. How busy can you truly be? I see you running all over. You'd best stop in and say hello time to time."

Just because the young angel had moved from under him, to being under his brother, didn't mean his fondness for him as gone with him in the move, Zaves was like his friend Akeelah in that manner. It was hard not to grow fond of him, he was easy to befriend, and his friendship could also turn into a valuable ally if the need arose for it. Just look at him and Nisroc, they couldn't be any more different in personality, but they remained as good friends and wouldn't to have anyone else to have at their back in the midst of battle.

"I didn't know you cared about me so much."

"If I come back around here in the next ten minutes and you are not asleep…"

He left the threat hanging as he walked away, followed by the soft laughter from the young messenger, and true to his word he did return to check on him ten minutes later. It was a sight, the messenger's little friend, their fledgling, had returned to his side and they had fallen asleep on each other. Akeelah tucked under his arm and him resting his head a top hers. He woke him slightly, as one must do when dealing with concussions, and let him drift back off a minute later, draping a blanket over the two of them with a shake of his head.

"Tha's big b'other."

The Healer rubbed a hand over the fledglings braided head, "You are most welcome, little one."