Category: Darksiders I & II
Rating: M
Couples: Azrael/War, Strife/Caim
Warnings: AU, Yaoi, Lemon, Mpreg
Chapter: 3
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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"I had almost forgotten how good you felt." War mused, his golem-arm stretched out beside the bathtub as his flesh hand caressed his angel's back.
"Likewise." The angel in question was snuggled against his chest, long wings stretched out behind his back to keep most of the long feathers out of the soapy water. "I am still amazed you willingly went through that all."
"For you, I'd plead to Hell's lowest slave." The Rider pulled his lover closer to him. "I am more surprised that your parents even let me know that it was a thing considering their earlier stance on us." He looked in surprise when that statement made Azrael flinch.
"Their stance never changed." The scholar pulled himself free, moving to get out of the warm water. "It seems I am even more of a fool than I ever believed." Reaching for a towel, he moved to one of the windows, looking through the colourful glass. If one was close enough, one could just make out the outline of bridge leading to the outpost.
War joined him, caressing the bare back with one hand. "How come?"
"Everything... everything I ever accused them off was wrong." The mystic snarled, burying his face in his hands. "They cared... they always did. Even... even the Puer Sacramentum was meant to help me."
"How the hell was that supposed to help?" War demanded, guiding his lover away from the window back to the tub. Heaven got surprisingly chilly after the light had faded.
"You were supposed to win." Azrael allowed the other to get him back into the warm water. "My father intended to lose. But it became a draw, he misjudged your capabilities... and when mother saw him like he was and felt the bond between them activated... she got controlled by her emotions."
"That may be the case, but why did they challenge in the first place if they did not mind us?" War pulled his lover into an embrace, reaching for some of the remaining food.
"Because we have a child." Azrael lifted one hand, forming an illusion of Grace when she was little above it. "We did do everything as wrong as could be. They had no choice but to demand a Puer Sacramentum if there was to be any chance for legitimizing our union. As said, my father intended to lose and when that failed, my mother intended likewise after she regained her calm. And if I had just thought about things for a moment, we could have prevented all this." Slamming his hand on the marble floor in frustration, Azrael looked away from his lover.
"It is no longer important." War reached for the hand, cradling it in his. "We are together now. That's all that matters. Let's leave the past in the past, my love."
The angel sank against the chest of the Nephilim. "How can I? You and Grace must have been so hurt..."
"And we have you back now." War wrapped his arms around the angel.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Later that night, War was resting in the luxurious bed beside Azrael. The angel was asleep, but the Nephilim could not quite do it. It didn't help that he was still somewhat hungry. He had fed most of the delivered food to his lover, having been quite upset at how much weight the angel had lost.
"Azrael..." He caressed the sleeping form, trying to wake him up just a bit. "Do you think I could go get some food?"
Still half-asleep, the scholar chuckled lightly at his mate's appetite. "The kitchen is four floors down. Fifth door to left once you get down the stairs."
"I'll try not to scare the cooks." The Rider got up, dressing in his leggings and tunic to leave the room.
The Nephilim walked slowly through the dark hallways. He might be a guest, but that didn't mean he would be at ease just yet.
They were deserted, though he could see guards flying outside the windows. Two floors down, on the same level that he remembered the office of Azrael's parents to be, he stopped as he passed wide open doors.
Standing at the balustrade of a large balcony was Laylah, seemingly staring off into space.
On one hand, he could not stand the sight of her. She had cost him his lover for half a decade and more importantly, his daughter her mother. On the other, according to Azrael she had started it with good intentions and things had just gone beyond her control. For Azrael's sake, he probably at some point should get on friendly footing with her, but not right now.
"Should I be concerned that you are staring at me, War?" The female angel looked over her shoulder at him.
"Not yet." He moved to stand beside her. "Azrael told me."
"I'd be concerned if he did not." She smiled lightly. "He loves you dearly. I hope you did not tire of him already?"
"I was hungry." His voice turned into a light snarl in indignation.
"He mentioned that, yes." The female angel pushed away from the balustrade. "Well, I better not keep you from your sustenance then, Rider. Azrael would not look kindly upon me should I cause you to starve."