It was something akin to a court martial, standing before the Council of Archangels with two Power's at ones side, the others standing at attention behind you, the archangels eyes boring into you with a burning anger. It was not something that had been enacted among them in many eons, the last having been the Morningstar himself, it was not a position that anyone wanted to find themselves in.

Zaveriel glared right back at him.

There was no remorse for his actions against their human allies and those they had in the underworld as allies, no remorse for his cruel attack on another angel, two angels. There was no hint of remorse as he stood before them, shoulders taught with tension, chin raised slightly in defiance, his only regret was allowing himself to be caught so quickly.

Michael stared him in the eye, his own gaze as hard as brick, there was no place for such attacks against each other in this new Heaven they were trying to make anew. The younger angel stared right back, refusing to back down, refusing to quail under his intense gaze, and it was something that struck a nerve in the oldest archangel.

Zaveriels aim was so well tuned because of his training, when the messengers had been dispersed throughout during the war he had fallen under the Warriors, he had caught on quickly and slowly began rising through the ranks. He had once been under Nisroc's command, a Power who stepped down from the position as soon as he was welcomed back into his role as a messenger. His was a dangerous opponent to stand against and he had abused his trainings for personal vendettas.

"Do you know why you stand before us today?" Michael's tone was harsh, the anger he felt at his teachings being used in such a way lit a fire within him, despite the intention there was no right in attacking those you know don't stand a chance against you. It was not something he was going to tolerate.

The young messenger nodded stiffly.

"I want a verbal response."

"Yes. Sir."

Michael slammed his hand down on the table, making the others around him jump in surprise, despite Gabriel being the young angels master it fell under his discretion due to the severity in the situation. Even the Power's seemed unsettled, though they made no step backwards, but the young messenger merely rolled his shoulders and maintained the oldest archangel gaze.

He stood from his seat, "You attack two unarmed angels, set harm to two humans, and nearly decapitated a demon. All who sit as our allies. And yet you stand before us as though you couldn't care less."

Zaveriel raised his chin again, anger glinting in his own eyes, "I care, Sir, I care that I was stopped before I finished what was set out to happen. I only did what others wanted."

The Archangel narrowed his eyes at the challenge presented to him without being spoken, the messenger was daring him, daring him to lay down punishment for his crime. It was true, his words, there was no fans among the host for those particular individuals. Most would rather see them on the end of a sword and preferably their own.

"I want your staff.", Zaveriels jaw set dangerously, "And your bow."

"Sir."

Michael met his challenge head on, lowering his own chin in return to the others defiant uplift, arms crossing over his chest as he stared the younger messenger down.

"You have given up your right to have them attacking those who stand as our allies unprovoked."

The young messenger handed his weapons off hotly to the Power's standing at his sides, glaring at the Archangel in defiance, and Michael narrowed his eyes at the continuance of the challenge.

"And you are confined to your quarters until further notice."

Zaveriels fists tightened at his sides, "How long."

"Until I say."

He turned to look at his master for his own input to which he nodded stiffly in agreement with the other archangel.

The youth nodded stiffly at the command and the two Powers at his side turned to escort him back to his quarters lest his never make it. Michael sat back heavily in his chair, rubbing at his eyes for a moment, and turned an impressed glance to his younger brother.

"Brother, I commend you, how do you manage to keep him in line so easily?"

Gabriel hummed, turning to look over at him for a moment, "With the threat of sending him to see Raph if he doesn't cool it."

He turned to look at the brother sitting on his left, Raphael met his gaze, an eyebrow raised, arms crossed loosely at over his chest. Anyone who managed to reign in that menace was someone to be revered.

"How does he still obey you despite being under the Messengers charge?"

The Healer hummed deeply, "He has felt the sting of a switch more then once in his lifetime."