Category: Darksiders I & II

Rating: M

Couples: Azrael/War, Strife/Caim

Warnings: AU, Yaoi, Lemon, Mpreg

Chapter: 22

Copyright: Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me and Food-for-mind

Author's Note: Sequel to Angel of War

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

"Michael." Iaoel moved through the building like a force of nature.

The ball in front of her shifted, her anger and indignation reaching the man in the middle. The sea of feathers parted, tentacles and wings both spreading across the room to form a wall of white.

"What happened?" He knew the tone of voice well. It boded ill. Michael leaned forward, the golden fabric of his clothes pooling out of his secure ball as it opened even further to allow the glowing male to approach his sister. Her face seemed chiselled out of marble.

"The traitors attacked." Her golden wings curled around her form, no hesitation slowing her down as she continued speaking. "Sabrael led them."

The beautifully flowing feather-tentacles froze. "Sabrael. My Sabrael?" Michael's light sharpened, the stone he stepped down on lightly cracking under the intensity.

"Yes."

The tentacles coiled now, like snakes waiting to strike. Michael loved his children, sometimes to the point of spoiling them by the standards of his siblings, but he had yet to find them as trustworthy as his siblings. He trusted his siblings, so if one of them accused a child of something, they usually were being honest.

"What happened?" There was a growling undertone to his voice now, his servants backing away as far as they could without abandoning their posts.

"He nearly killed Laylah in his attempt to reach her sons." Being blind, Iaoel was the only one in the room being completely unfazed at the dramatic increase in brightness as Michael's anger exploded. By this point, had any Nephilim – or even full-blooded demons – been in the room, they would have been actively hurt by being in his presence.

"You know what to do." Without raising his voice, it now echoed in the very building.

Even for his children, there would be no mercy for such a sacrilege.

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

Heaven's greatest criminals were both judged and executed publicly, though very few crimes warranted both. Most had everything happen in private, some had the punishment be a public event and only a few had everything happen in front of anyone who wanted to attend.

One of those few was any form of sacrilege… and attacking a Firstborn outside of self-defence or provable confusion was sacrilege. As such, Sabrael had been brought to the central arena, where such cases were processed. His co-conspirators dodged that bullet, having not committed this crime.

The only mercy he had was that Laylah had survived and both she and Azrael had stated that he had been aiming for someone else, making his sacrilege more accidental than intentional. Not accidental enough however to forgive combined with his plotting of killing essentially an entire lineage.

Azrael had changed into different clothes, sitting near the seats of the Firstborn with three of the four Horsemen at his side. Laylah – even after the healing of the energy-explosion and her brother – suffered from blood-loss still and was confined to the healing-wards. Her husband on the other hand had forgone staying at her side for the moment and was in attendance. Whispers ran across the many rows of seats that he had not looked this furious even at the height of the demonic wars. Many pitied Sabrael for having to face this anger.

Worse still for the foolish man, there was a wide-open space in front of the Firstborn-seats; wide enough to fit a Trauma-sized ball of wings and feathered tentacles comfortably. Michael was going to attend and most likely conduct this trail of his son.

In short, judgement had already been passed before the trail even started. The only question was what the punishment would be.

Finally the Lord of Heaven appeared in the air above, two Orthos circling around him as his guards. The massive beasts landed heavily in the arena in front of where Michael would land as a hush fell over the crowd.

Even balled up as he was, light poured out from behind the wings and tentacles. Shields around the Nephilim activated, protecting the half-demonic guardians of the Balance from the holiness emanating from the new arrival.

War leaned over towards Azrael lightly. "Do these things last as long as your weddings?" He wanted to get his hands on that angel sooner rather than later. Azrael merely shook his head, having a quite good idea what the faith of his cousin would be.

"I did what had to be done!" The chained male screamed, fighting his bonds. "The Nephilim cannot be allowed to return!"

"Who are you to judge?" Michael did not even deign his disgraced child with opening his wings. "Tell me… Are you wise? Wiser perhaps than Lucien, greatest scholar of my children?" He did not give his son a chance to answer. "Are you great? Greater than Abaddon, mightiest of Heaven's warriors, Firstborn included? We both know you are not. So why… did you think you were better than them? Why do you think you know the Creator's plan better than they?"

"His plan is to see them gone! There is a reason Eden happened!"

"The ability for a man to bear child is a gift not even Laylah can give." Rahab spoke up sharply, glowering in fury down into the arena. "It is a gift only given by the Creator. Are you saying he gifted wrong when allowing my flesh and blood to conceive? Has your sacrilege no bounds?"

Iaoel's golden wings wrapped around her brother to calm his ire. "Pride and hubris run strong in this spawn of Phanuel, as they did his youngest brother…" It was cruel statement, doubly so because she refused to acknowledge his Lineage, that by which he was known in Heaven. "Our sister would weep if she could see the damnation of her sons. This was not what she intended her gift to be to you. You disgrace her name by believing it so."

"The fault lies not with Phanuel." Michael interrupted her, opening his wings like the gates to a courtroom. "I ruined her gifts to me, for it is clear that they would never act in such a way if another's blood had flown through their veins. They place too much stock in the line they have to me."

Light poured out over the arena. "Sabrael, you tried to kill a High Secondborn, plotted to destroy a Lineage of Heaven and nearly slew a Firstborn who was saved by nothing short of a miracle and dared presume the Creator was less wise than you. You know the crime you stand accused of… and you know its' price."

"Now just a…" Death knew instinctively that a mere Fall would not be what Michael was condemning his child to. He wanted to be certain that the Nephilim still got their due out of this. Azrael's hand on his arm stopped him… and something in the angel's eyes made him relent.

"Death would be a mercy. A Fall would be a mercy. Oblivion would be a mercy." The disappointment in his voice probably hurt the chained male more than any of those fates. "Therefore, you will live forever. Until the Creator unmakes creation, you will endure, even if the City falls to ruin. There will be no rebirth, nor the mercy of an ending."

Rahab rose from his seat, spreading his wings and gliding down.