Category: Darksiders I & II

Rating: M

Couples: Azrael/War, Strife/Caim

Warnings: AU, Yaoi, Lemon, Mpreg

Chapter: 15

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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"He'll survive." Gremory stated after checking the Gunner over. "It'll take him a good while to recover, but he will in time."

"Thank goodness…" Fury deflated a bit. "Creator, what did he run into out there that he ended up like that?" She gestured to the unconscious male on the table.

"He got himself in trouble again, no doubt." Death rolled his eyes. "I swear he lives to antagonize us. I could see him kill himself just to do it."

"Are you sure he wouldn't just think us relieved?" War wondered dryly, walking over to the table to look at the second-oldest Nephilim.

"Considering how much leeway he thinks we'd give him, he'd certainly think we'd be weeping or something." The Firstborn muttered, leaning against the table.

A second later, he was no longer there. Instead a wall of force had smashed him into the furthest wall, the air heavy with burning energies.

"That better not have been you being serious." Azrael had exhausted himself to heal Strife, but War's wrath gave him new strength. Certainly enough to use his brother-in-law in an attempt to make another door to the room…

"Azrael!" Caim actually became airborne with his shock, carrying himself back two yards with one wing-flap. "What in Heaven's sake!?"

"Answer me, Death." The room became suffused with the scholar's energies, crackling in the air and almost melting the granite floor beneath his feet as two pairs of burning orange eyes met.

"What do you think you're doing, angel?" Death snarled, only barely keeping from retaliating violently. "You might be War's mate, but don't push it."

"You are pushing my patience, Death." Heaven's finest mystic certainly did not look like it with his face having been warped into a furious grimace. "You are not worth Strife. You are not worth his dedication to you. And at this rate, you are not worth my holding back."

"The only thing he is dedicated to is annoying the living Hell out of us." The Nephilim tried to push himself off of the wall, but the wrath-fuelled mate of his youngest brother was still overpowering him. Behind the angel, the others dared not interfere.

"What of bringing me and War together? What about the Lilith-debacle? What about me entrusting my brother to him?" The Gatekeeper hissed. "What about leaving himself defenceless to give you and War some bloody ranged weapons – and don't try to play it off, I know how much both of you needed those." Not even letting Death get a breath in edgewise, Azrael continued. "What about always, always being the one the Council risked dying? What about nearly dying for War's children!? Is that worth nothing to you?"

Perhaps he would have done and said more, but Azrael was suddenly distracted by the sound of crying coming from outside the room. Gabriel, hearing her mother's furious voice, had completely broken under the stress and was wailing for either of her parents.

The angel promptly deflated, dropping Death to the ground while turning to rush out of the room.

"What do you think that was about!?" Death called after him, stopping him at the doorway.

"Perhaps you should ask your employers for that one." The scholar stated sharply, before leaving.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I know he said to ask them, but are you sure this is both necessary and, more importantly, even possible?" Fury demanded, looking around her. The three unwounded Horsemen had gathered at a lake of lava, the air thick with smoke. Once upon a time, three massive rock-formations had towered over the lake, but now it was flat.

"Whatever else, Azrael was correct on enough marks I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt on the rest." Death stated darkly while carving ancient runes into the ground in front of them. He would need every bit of power and skill he had to summon these souls. "And as such, we need to talk to our 'employers'."

He sat down cross-legged. If circumstances had been even marginally different, he would have asked Azrael to once again assist him like the angel had done eons ago on the Ravaiim homeworld, but considering everything, he would not do it now.

They waited in silence after that, War staring off into the distance while his oldest brother worked his magics. It might have well been hours until the lava started bubbling, a lone voice rumbling. "Tired of the job already, Nephilim?"

"Most assuredly not." Death answered as his siblings came closer. "I had to give you far more autonomy than I normally do, but you will answer me."

"We'll see about that, won't we?" The bubbles came faster, as if the one making them was excited. "I see you discarded Strife? Or has he merely fallen from favour?"

"None of your business." The Nephilim Firstborn found it concerningly telling that the first thing they bothered with was checking for Strife. "Did you send him to die?"

"Ah, you'll have to specify. We send you four on many dangerous missions." A face formed in the lava, looking up at the three.

"More than the rest of us." Fury demanded angrily.

"Of course. We agreed to that with him, after all. Let it not be said that we do not keep our agreements." It almost seemed as if the face was laughing, the sentence interspersed with amused chuckles. "And you know of that now, I take? Shame on you, Death, using your necromancy to find your sibling's secrets."

"Agreement?" War echoed, eyes narrowing in his hood.

"So you don't know?" The plateau they were on rumbled with laughter. "Now I am really interested in what happened to drag that reveal out in the open."

"Just answer the question." Death snarled, more of his energy working on the soul he was holding. "What agreement?"

The sound that followed was like a cracking rock. "The agreement we made with Strife when you joined us."

"Elaborate, damn you." The Firstborn was sweating by now, but he refused to let this go.

"We could not… risk you breaking of one of you died. He was to make sure you would not break, and in turn we'd not risk any of you." It was clear the returned soul of one of the aspects of the Charred Council did not want to make that confession, but weakened by death and time, the Nephilim was stronger. "He would make you hate him, and in turn he'd be the one send on suicide-missions. And look how you repaid his dedication… casting him aside."