Category: Darksiders I & II

Rating: M

Couples: Azrael/War, Strife/Caim

Warnings: AU, Yaoi, Lemon, Mpreg

Chapter: 6

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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Caim only reluctantly followed his brother to the outpost their parents had controlled since time immemorial. The white-winged scholar set down on the stone pathway leading up to the tower. His black-winged brother touched behind him, his wings twitching at the sight of the guards filling the airspace.

Apparently the demons had started pushing Heaven's boundaries, attacking a small outpost on the very edges of the White City's sphere of influence. Considering this outpost held the largest collection of relics and two of the remaining angelic Firstborn, he could see why security had been upgraded. Not that he liked having to deal with a small squadron worth of unFallen angels.

"Will you calm down?" Azrael looked in amusement at his sibling. "No one's going to stab you."

"Did you tell them that?" Caim stayed close beside the other male. "I'm a Fallen, Azrael. I do not belong here. This is the epitome of purity."

"I'm sure we all know even Firstborn are not without their sins." The voice of their father came down from a nearby tree. The elder angel was sitting on one of the thicker branches, looking at his sons. "Your mother sends her greetings, but there were matters that required her attention so she'll only be able to join us later if you stay that long."

"No problem." The two angels on the ground watched his touch down beside them. He was in full armour, the silver segments glinting in the source-less light that characterized Heaven's domains. Azrael rearranged his robes as they followed him. "So how much planning did she put in already?"

"Enough to make me think your input is almost redundant." The Firstborn smiled lightly. "She thought she'd never get some grandchildren."

"You do remember that two children is not a good starting-point for that?" The mystic answered dryly.

"One child." Caim reminded his brother. "I am dead."

"Considering Azrael still frowns upon necromancy; no, you aren't." Rahab spoke as they arrived in his office. "Take a seat while we wait for your mother."

"I am Fallen." Said Fallen hissed sharply, refusing the offered chair. "You are a Firstborn."

"A Firstborn who had only two children in his life." The silver-armoured male countered while Azrael watched them both. "Not to mention your mother did remind you that we had no hand in the whole concept of 'Falling'."

"That does not change the fact that you should still abide by it." Caim gestured around them. "You cannot expect us after eons – literal, eternal, bloody never-ending eons – to just ignore the laws you are meant to represent."

"Haniel, it might surprise you, but we stopped representing those long ago." Rahab rose from his seat, towering over his angry child. "When the later generations went wild with them and turned them into a doctrine we never intended when we first wrote them. When we found that one of our brothers... When one of our Creator-given brothers cast our eldest, one of only two of our children from the Legions for being the smart-ass idiot he always was."

The two warriors were face to face now, energies rising up with their heated emotions. The mixture of pure and tainted filled the air with a scent of noxious gasses.

"Are you certain? It certainly did not seem like that to me." Black wings spread, raven feathers standing in stark contrast to the white ones of his father.

"What did you expect us to do? Come down in Hell to find you? Cause a rift in the city by dividing the Firstborn at the height of our war with Hell? We did quite often point out that the greatest are also the most restrained. There are images we need to uphold, child, as you ought to remember."

Neither spoke after that, though Caim turned away. "Azrael said you kept my things."

"Some of them. Small things that would not be missed during the purge-burn." The firstborn walked away, heading for a small space of un-occupied wall. "Including some of your works of art."

Caim frowned at that, glaring at his brother when he chuckled. "Of all things, you saved those?"

"Your books hardly had sentimental value to us." The Firstborn dragged a single finger in a complicated pattern over the wall, not reacting as the stone melted away and revealed a large white-wooden chest. "If it helps, we only saved those of your last century or two and not those from when you were a small boy?"

"Because I burned those when I passed my first century." The Fallen hesitated to head for the chest, even as his father returned to his seat. "You did keep showing those to everyone who visited on family-business."

"They were adorable."

"They were atrocious." Caim slowly crossed the room, opening the chest while kneeling down beside it. Fabric of some of his clothes... Despite his father's claims, there were some books in there... Some trinkets... and of course those thrice-accursed art-projects. In hindsight, he had to admit they were not that bad. "I used to draw uncle Michael as a collection of squiggly lines."

"Heaven's artists take days to represent him." Rahab answered dryly. "He is not the best subject for art these days."