Category: Darksiders I & II

Rating: M

Couples: Azrael/War, Strife/Caim

Warnings: AU, Yaoi, Lemon, Mpreg

Chapter: 19

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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Within a week of being declared fit enough to start getting back to his normal levels of activity, Strife and Caim joined the communal breakfast with Caim having a Mark peeking over his collar. The Fallen were thrilled, much to their Commander's embarrassment. Said embarrassment was being made worse by jokes coming from the Archangel's side of the table, who enjoyed the flustered countenance of his elder brother.

"Mother is going to enjoy this." Azrael chuckled, gesturing with his fork at the fresh Mark on his brother's neck. "It was one of her questions for you after all."

"Please don't tell her." Caim buried his face in his hands. "She won't leave me alone if she finds out."

"You do remember we have Iaoel as an aunt right?" The unFallen Elder angel laughed now, taking some of the food on his plate. "I can bet you that mother has her watch for things like that."

The Fallen groaned at that to general laughter and chuckles. "Strife, we're breaking up again. I don't want to deal with this."

"We can elope?" The Gunner smirked at the male he had claimed for his own sometime during the prior night. "As a Fallen, I think that is a thing we can do."

"Then she'll never let me live it down." Black wings twitched as their owner looked at his nieces. "You two better hope she'll have calmed down by the time you two get someone."

"From what I see, I think she'd need at least ten more children of her own." War dryly pointed out, causing his eldest to snort tea through her nose, coughing rather violently.

"Speaking of that, how come she only has you two?" Fury looked at her two in-laws. "She's had eons."

"Mom's as good as infertile." Azrael sighed. "Basically, as an Archangel of Fertility, she's expending so much fertility to the rest of Creation she needs to give conscious effort to keep some for herself."

"Which is quite hard, according to her." Caim shrugged lightly. "Something I cannot tell in earshot of Gabriel." One of his mouth-corners quirked up at the insulted sound coming from his youngest niece.

All of them blinked when a scroll appeared in front of Azrael, breaking the comfortable atmosphere.

"What does it say?" Death demanded after the angel had read it.

"They have found one of the angels responsible, though he has refused to speak until the sending of this letter." The scholar darkly stated, hand tight around the fragile paper. "They summon the Horsemen to deal with him personally."

"I guess we know what to do after breakfast then." The Firstborn snarled.

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Metatron greeted them at the gates to the City. "Where are the girls?"

"Back at the fortress." Azrael greeted his uncle. Only the Horsemen and the two elder angels had come to Heaven. "Why?"

"Michael offered to watch them while this is happening." The Angelic Firstborn stated, briefly looking at the Nephilim. "Not to insinuate that your fortress is less secure, but..."

"Given recent lapses..." Death dryly finished his statement. "Where is the angel?"

"In prison, obviously." Metatron gestured into the city. "Follow me."

"I'll visit mother." Azrael spoke up.

"Leaving the gruesome stuff to me?" War chuckled lowly, briefly pulling the angel closer.

"Of course, because after the Ravaiim homeworld, I can still get queasy." The scholar chuckled softly. "There's something I want to discuss with her, and I cannot assure you I will not blast that man to the Land of the Dead beyond even the reach of Death."

"I'll join you." Caim briefly stretched his wings in preparation of flight. "Where is she?" He turned to his uncle.

"My residency. If you will follow me then, Horsemen?" Metatron spread his four wings to take off after his nephews flew into the city.

"How long until we get there?" Strife summoned Regret, equally recovered from her run-in with the creatures of their homeworld.

"A few minutes." The angel took to the air. "I will take the liberty of summoning roads for you, otherwise it'll take us hours on the quickest road." He turned to the city as well, leading the way as rocks formed from thin air underneath the horses' hooves.

The Nephilim followed him at a quick canter, leaving quadruple trails in the air behind them. It was indeed only a few minutes until they reached the prisons, which were located near the barracks of the City Guard. Uriel and several of her Champions were waiting for them.

"Still nothing?" Metatron lead the way inside, wings wide with anger.

"No, my Lord." Uriel followed just a bit behind him, only briefly glancing over her shoulder at the Horsemen. "Lady Iaoel has been summoned."

"Give us a go first." Death stated, the twin forms of Harvester bouncing on his hips. "We'll get him to talk."

"In a way that does not involve Necromancy?" The Angelic Firstborn seemed to be unfazed at the mention of the arts of Demons. "We want him to be able to stand trail."

"Oh, don't worry about that one." War assured his in-law as a massive door was opened. it was made from the crystal angels used in the field, though this was far more translucent. Inside the room was one male, clad only in a pair of leggings and chained to a chair. "Just don't expect him to have all limbs."

"We'll have to live with that then." Metatron allowed him first entry, gesturing Uriel away.

With the arrival of the Horsemen, the courage of the angel failed. By the time several of the other Angelic Firstborn had arrived, he was short three limbs and was answering any questions with inelegant blubbering. All except the one as to who had thought of the plan to slay Azrael's children.

"Perhaps I can assist." Iaoel, sole surviving aunt of Azrael, coldly stated, moving forward. "Second Sight has its' uses after all." One of her hands slammed into the prisoners forehead. "Show me." Her nails broke his skin as he groaned in renewed pain. His eyes rolled back in his head as the Firstborn tore through what mental defenses he had left. "Sabrael. Sabrael has betrayed us."

"I do not know him." Death's eyes narrowed.

"He... he is the head of Michael's personal guard and one of his elder sons." Rahab snarled. "One of the few we had trusted with your location outside of our siblings." War's father-in-law made to say more, but suddenly lurched forward with a cry, clutching his shoulder while collapsing. Light burned in his eyes as his energies burned.

"What in...!?" Fury almost jumped back.

"Creator." The third brother of the Firstborn knelt next to his sibling. "It's his angelic bond with Laylah... but I have never seen it so active!"

"Move." The female Firstborn joined him on the ground. "Let me in, Rahab. Let me see."

Metal creaked as the armoured male held his shoulder so tightly that he might well bend the pauldron on that shoulder.

"They have killed her." Iaoel breathed in horror over a groan of the man she was still holding. "Creator. They killed her... to get her sons." By the time she had shot up, both War and Strife were already moving outside. "Metatron, follow them!"