Song listened to: 'Soldier' by Fleurie.

"We thank you for joining us."

It was not often that the Council of Archangels asked others to join them, not often that they were invited in the Council Chamber and the door shut behind them, it was not something anyone wanted to have happen as only those who had wronged Heaven in the most grievous way was pulled to the Council. The last had been the Grigori, and their curse bestowed upon them, there was some who still avoided the Prince as best as they could.

One brave soul raised their chin, a Blacksmith, still covered in the soot of the furnace where the Holy Weapons were forged, "We weren't given much of a choice in the matter."

Among them, in total, sat six representatives for the different factions. Akeelah sat in for the Choir. Salathiel stood in for the Blacksmiths and Armors. Malachi stood for the factions. Zaveriel was there to represent the messengers. Oren the Healers. And Nisroc the Warriors.

They sat at a circular stone table, as to suggest that not one of them sat at the head as though above any other in any way, and the Archangels watched them all silently.

Michael sighed, figuring that if no one else would begin this meeting, then he would be the one to step up to the lead.

"No. You weren't. To rebuild we must also rebuild among the people. We need to broach the subject."

"Of the war that was not ours to fight?", the others nodded at Malachi's accusation and they bit back there protest, it was of course as true as true could be. They had all been victims of a war that they had no part in. Michael closed his eyes as he nodded in agreement, "Yes."

"What's there to talk about?" Zaveriel was not holding back, not for his master, and not for the others. This was something that they wanted to broach, a wound they wanted to reopen, despite it being left to fester, and allow to spill out everywhere. "You guys started a war that you expected us to fight for you. And only now are you bringing it up because your guilt eats at you about it."

Silence rang loud over them, from the left of the Power, the littlest one looked between them all and shrugged.

"We refuse to get close enough to the Prince and Healer to allow them to tear us apart."

It was the first admission for the afternoon, and all eyes turned to look at the young one as she sat twiddling her fingers. As if taking her lead, the messenger chimed in again, looking his master in the eyes.

"We are waiting on bated breath for the moment our Master to abandon us again."

The Blacksmith nodded in turn, resting his fists on the table, "We refuse to be ordered to create a weapon that could kill another master, again."

Malachi followed, "We are not mindless soldiers, not all of us, and we will not be treated as such again.", Nisroc agreed to much of the same. They had been treated as though they were only there to do the bidding for either side, and they were so much more than that. They were people with personalities and minds of their own. Not created to merely stand in line on the battlefield. "I refuse to cut down my brothers and sisters where they stand for where they chose to be sorted."

"You locked us up in the prison after Luci was banished.", they turned back to the fledgling, she was staring ahead at her hands, none had suspected that was the horror they had faced. They had all faced horrors unimaginable, but the choir even more so, having been under the disgraced ones tutelage only gave them scorn and suspicion. There were many actions taken against the Choir that would be regretted for some time. "Sometimes it still haunts us in the dark of the night." Nisroc and Malachi looked down to their own hands, shame clouding their features, as though they too remembered the begging that had fallen on deafened ears back then. Remembered how they had struggled so as the elders were torn from their fledglings side, the fledglings resorted into the factions, it was how her flock had been taken from her. "Sariel's annoying, but they did bad stuff, she doesn't trust you. We hadn't done anything, but we were treated like criminals." She looked up at Michael, the one who had stood tall as they were shackled and thrown away without the key, the one who had rained down on them with fire and rage, as though they were at fault for what had become of the Morningstar. "I watched them do bad stuff to Jeremiah. But he wouldn't scream, like I know he wanted to, because he knew I was watching. That's why he doesn't fly anymore. His wings healed wrong because no healers would come see them after they were released. The Healer looked down in shame, it had been he who had told his flock to keep away from the prisoners, they had earned their punishment, for merely existing.

"Things can never be as they were before."

Zaveriel was quite, subdued even, as he spoke his final piece, to which the others nodded along with in agreement. It was true after all, one could rebuild all they wanted after a war had torn through, but things would never be as they once were. It was the cost of fighting a war one had no part in, trust being stolen as a casualty, and without the foundation of trust under it all, the structure could never really rise again. There would always be a fault line.

"We don't trust you." He looked between them all "How can we trust you when we don't know you anymore?"

"Sir." For the first time since their meeting had begun, the Power finally spoke up for himself, instead of continuing his watching from afar. He crossed his hands before him on the table and heaved a large sigh, "With all due respect, may I speak freely?"

"Always, my friend."

"You have destroyed a heart. We are all broken, and so tired, continuing on because it is all we know. Sometimes it is better to pretend the hard time did not happen to allow yourself to continue to exist."