Category: Darksiders I & II

Rating: M

Couples: Azrael/War, Strife/Caim

Warnings: AU, Yaoi, Lemon, Mpreg

Chapter: 8

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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The wedding was set for two months later, as that was roughly the latest where Azrael's pregnancy could be effectively hidden. No one felt like having another Puer Sacramentum over the relationship of Heaven's First Mystic and the Horsemen's youngest member.

Grace was still no fan of her grandparents, though she had grown more accepting of their reasoning, to at least the point they could be civil towards one another. She was however quite the fan of the dress she could wear to the wedding.

"I'm looking forward to putting it all behind us." War muttered darkly, looking over at his lover. "Are you sure we can't elope?"

"Do you really want to lose me again?" The angel looked at him, combing his wings. "It'll just be 'unbefitting conduct' all over again." It was the day before the start of the four-day ceremony that would see them wed in the way of the angels.

"Your brother said it would only be three. Where did that fourth day come from?" The Nephilim demanded, moving through the room to caress his mate's bare shoulder.

"The fact that I am officially their 'firstborn'." The scholar reached over to take the hand in his own. "It adds some ceremony. You did mention I was worth anything..."

"And I stand by that." The warrior smiled down lightly. "Just annoyed they pulled a whole day from somewhere. Did they ever say who would presiding?"

"One of their siblings. Firstborn don't preside ceremonies of their own children." Azrael chuckled. "Scared they'll talk extra slow?"

"Knowing angels, I wouldn't even be that surprised." War smirked. "Come to bed, my bird. I'd like some private time to carry me through the next four days."

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"I take it back, this outfit is worse." War felt like someone robbed Abaddon's closet and had given him the result. "I look ridiculous." He looked over his shoulder at the Fallen behind him. "How are the wings coming along?"

"Almost done." Azazel grinned widely. The mad smith of the Fallen had been ecstatic when the Horseman had requested his aid in making fake wings. If War had to do this, he'd do it properly and that included wings. "Just some last adjustments so they don't fall off half-way through the ceremonies." Aside from Caim, none of the Fallen could be invited and instead would prepare a gigantic party for after Heaven's festivities. Not that War was planning on attending it for very long... "There, done."

"Thank you." The Rider looked at the brass creations. His mouth-corner quirked upward lightly at seeing the constructs move lightly. "I'll tell you all about the performance after we're done."

He took a deep breath, heading towards where the ceremonies would start.

"You look magnificent." War greeted Azrael, looking his lover over. "And here I thought your regular robes were fancy."

"Formal attire." Azrael turned around to look at the Nephilim. His eyes widened when falling on the wings behind his significant other. "You..." The angel reached out slowly, carefully touching the metal feathers. He pulled his hand back when War moved it. "How...?"

"Making Azazel very happy." War took the hand in his own. "Like them?"

"They are wonderful." The mystic smiled widely at his lover. "Can they actually hold your weight?"

"Not for a high-speed chase out of here. But they should be able to keep me aloft." War pulled on the fur draped over his shoulders, before pressing a quick kiss to the angel's cheek.

"I saw that, War. Your wings are not that wide, I fear." Rahab pointed out in amusement, alighting next to them. "Your mother will be here soon, I have been assured."

"Will you finally share who will preside?" Azrael asked, leaning into the possessive hand that had settled on his hip.

"Your uncle." The Firstborn male smiled lightly at the flat glare his son graced him with. "Your mother is dragging him here. Where's Haniel, by the by?"

"Caim is with my siblings." The Nephilim gestured with his head to the side. "I thought all of yours were here?" He had been introduced to the other Angelic Firstborn during the preparations and he hoped he remembered them well enough not to mistake another for them. Then again, they were so seemingly under-dressed compared to the other guests it was hard to miss them.

"Not that one." Azrael's father stated, nodding to the entrance. Only now War realized that a hush had been falling over the gathering. Turning, he first saw Laylah - dressed in a purely feather-dress - and then a giant ball of feathers. It actually took him a moment to realize that beside his soon-to-be mother-in-law was a collection of wings and vague wing-shaped feather-covered tentacles. The form would have dwarfed a Trauma as it floated at roughly angel-height above the floor. Between them and the door, angels actually kneeled the moment their eyes touched the form.

Laylah seemed equally amused and perturbed at that as she turned to the form and said something. In answer, the wings rippled and started to part, revealing a burning light at their center. Part of War wanted to get away - probably his demonic part - when the feathered appendages revealed a form ablaze in holy light. After a bit, the light dimmed to leave a lithe male dressed in what looked to be an elaborate skirt. His upper body was bare save for a few small feathered tentacles wrapped around it.

"You got Michael to preside?" Azrael demanded of his father, spreading his wings to cross the room to join his mother and the new arrival. "I thought he was asleep."

"Your mother nagged him awake." Rahab chuckled.