Category: Darksiders I & II
Rating: M
Couples: Azrael/War, Strife/Caim
Warnings: AU, Yaoi, Lemon, Mpreg
Chapter: 1
Copyright: Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me and Food-for-mind
Author's Note: Sequel to Angel of War
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If there was one thing no Fallen ever wanted to see, than it was one of the Angelic Firstborn hovering just outside a dome of wards said Firstborn could probably very easily bring down in moments... Which was why a good dozen Fallen bitterly regretted not leaving with the others on the errand they had been assigned.
Fury – as the only Rider currently in residence - meanwhile was blissfully unaware of this fact until she noticed how quiet the house had become. Granted, there were periods of silence, but at least the children always made themselves known some way, even if only by the echoes of their wings.
"What on...?" Leaving the room she was in to investigate, it was by sheer accident that she noticed the quadruple wings standing just outside of Death's protective wards. "Who? Wait a moment..."
She could probably figure out the details as to where the birds of the fortress had gone later. "Why are you here?" And how did you even find this place, she added mentally.
"Running some errands." Metatron smiled lightly at her, iridescent robes almost reflecting the glow of her whip. "Is War present by any chance?"
"Why? Has the White City decided that Grace must be taken from him as well now?"
"The White City does not even know I am here." The angel countered coolly. "Not every angel is solely an extension of its' will, as Azrael proved plenty before, I imagine." He pulled a scroll from his sleeve, offering it to her. "I have this for War, please pass it on if you would."
"What is it?" She took it hesitantly, holding it with both hands while not removing her eyes from him.
"I am old, Rider, old enough to have been there when the Codex was written. In fact, I was the one who wrote it myself. Far more often than my hands appreciated, in fact." He snorted lightly. "At any rate, I know it by heart even now. And let's just say... he would very much appreciate knowing this particular passage."
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War had learned angelic script by now, both from looking over Azrael's shoulder when they had sat together as well as when he was Grace's study-buddy during her homework from Puppy.
As such, he could afford to look at the scroll in private after dinner. He had moved up into their former tower-room, sitting on the bed they had shared for over seven years.
His eyes narrowed when he deciphered the words. How... how dare they... Was this some mockery of Heaven? Or...
He almost dared not hope. Granted, this was a string of humiliations, but if true...
His blue eyes trailed to the closet opposite of where he was sitting. It was still full of the scholar's clothes, virtually untouched after the mystic had had to return to the White City.
He got up, crossing the room to open it. The most prominent article was a thick, white fur-coat. After Azrael had gone, Grace had not touched it again.
Carefully he took it from the coat, moving back to the bed.
"Azrael..." Closing his eyes, he buried his face in the white softness. "For you..." For Azrael, he would even risk the mockery of Heaven. But if he found that all this was indeed a mockery, he'd make sure the angels would regret the move.