Work Text:
Like with all the Almighty's prophets, Michael wasn't quite sure what to think of Moses at first. Though she'd briefly kept an eye on him when he was a child, she didn't officially meet him until he spoke to Her for the first time.
And what she saw was unimpressive, to say the least. He's Hebrew by birth, was raised by Egyptians, and now spends his days tending to sheep. More than that, he feared public speaking. How could he possibly be the Deliverer if he wouldn't even be able to give Pharaoh Her message?
He apparently shared her sentiments. "Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?" he asked. "I am the nephew of the man who slaughtered their children."
The Lord, always one to prepare for everything, reassured him by providing him with proof of Her presence; Michael herself was most impressed by the staff turning into a snake.
But there was still the problem of his speech.
"I have never been eloquent," Moses told Her. Neither in the past, nor now. I am slow of speech and tongue. How can I possibly—"
"WHO MADE MAN'S MOUTH?" The burning bush's fire grew as the Lord spoke, making both Moses and Michael duck their heads and shield their eyes. "WHO MADE THE DEAF, THE MUTE, THE SEEING, OR THE BLIND? DID NOT I? NOW GO!"
Michael helped Moses up as the fire returned to its initial smaller size, and the Lord spoke again, this time in a more motherly tone. "Oh, Moses. I will be with you when you go to the king of Egypt. But Pharaoh will not listen."
"Then send someone else," the former prince replied, his voice barely a whisper as he kept his head down.
The fire briefly grew once more, which seemed to be the Lord's way of sighing. "What of your brother Aaron, then? He can speak well, and I'm sure he'll be glad to see you when I send him your way. You shall speak to him and put words in his mouth, and I shall help you both speak and teach you what to do."
Finally, Moses relented and started down the mountain. Michael stared after him, wondering why the Almighty didn't just make Aaron Her messenger instead.
"Because Moses is both Hebrew and Egyptian," She replied; Michael almost forgot She could hear her thoughts so long as she was on holy ground. "Now go with him, Michael. Help him preform all my wonders."
Egypt hadn't changed much since she'd last seen it—Hebrews were still getting mistreated, the Egyptians were still living in their own little world, and the only thing that changed was who was in charge of the land now. Apparently the old Pharaoh had died, and his son Radames had succeed him.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Michael remembered how close the two had been, so hopefully that bond would be enough to let Her people go.
"Moses!" Radames greeted his cousin warmly once they'd entered the throne room while the rest of the Egyptians looked on warily. Though the prophet returned the greeting, Aaron and Michael kept their distance.
"Your Majesty." A man dressed in priestly robes approached them, eyeing Moses with visible disdain. "I don't mean to interrupt this... heartwarming reunion, but Moses here is still a murderer. Such a crime is punishable by death."
"Be still," Radames said, holding up a hand and his gaze sweeping through the crowd. "Pharaoh speaks. And as the Morning and the Evening star, I hereby absolve my cousin Moses of all crimes and welcome him home as a prince of Egypt." To a nearby scribe, he added, "So it is written, so it shall be done!"
The gathered Egyptians applauded, though Michael wasn't entirely sure all of them were being genuine.
"Moses!" Aaron whispered to his brother, an annoyed expression on his face. "Remember what we came here to do."
"I haven't forgotten," came the reply. To Radames, he said, "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Radames, but I really must tell you something."
More like Aaron needs to, Michael thought, glancing at the older man.
"Of course, of course!" Radames clapped Moses' back. "Whatever it is you have to tell me can be said during tonight's feast. One so great, it shall be held in your honor!" As the crowd cheered, the pharaoh finally took notice of the prophet's companions. "Oh, and your servants are welcome to join us as well, I suppose."
Aaron's eye twitched, and Michael rested a hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be okay," she told him.
Moses glanced back at them apologetically and opened his mouth to speak, but was led away by Radames. "Now, where exactly have you been all this time?"
"I should've just stayed home with Miriam," Aaron muttered before quickly following his brother.
Michael was about to go after them, when she saw a young Egyptian woman approach her, and the gold jewelry she wore told her this must've been Radames' wife—or at least one of them. Her green eyes seemed to shine brighter with each step, and there was a strange, vaguely familiar scent coming from her.
"Welcome!" she said, stretching out her arms and smiling widely. "I am Kiya, Pharaoh's wife. I hope you enjoy your stay here."
"Thank you," Michael replied, though some part of her suddenly wanted to get away from Kiya as quickly as possible.
"While the men catch up, why don't you come with me? I'm sure there's much for us to discuss. Oh, unless you wish to do something productive instead?"
No one needed to tell her what 'productive' meant. Am I really being threatened right now? I just got here! But she didn't want to test it. "It would be an honor to spend time with a Royal Wife."
"Oh, wonderful! Let's go to my chambers, shall we?"
"Now, what brings you to Egypt?" Kiya asked. At her insistence, she sat Michael in front of a mirror and began doing her hair.
"Just visiting." Michael decided to keep her answers as simple as possible. It wasn't her job to reveal the true purpose of today.
The only response was a hum, and Kiya simply kept brushing. "Your hair is so pretty. You should let it down more often."
More often? "You say it like we've met before," Michael said, laughing to hide her nerves.
Kiya's smiled, and Michael saw her gripping onto the hairbrush tightly. "Perhaps we have, in another life. And you just look like someone who likes to wear their hair up."
"Well, you're not wrong, but—Ow!"
Kiya had pulled onto her hair too hard, and Michael had to resist the urge to glare at her.
"Sorry," said Pharaoh's wife, though she didn't sound apologetic at all. "Although, I would think the commander of the Lord's army would be able to withstand any sort of pain."
Michael sat there in silence, staring at Kiya—or whoever she was—through the mirror. "Now," she said through a grin, gripping onto Michael's shoulder tightly in one hand and producing a flame in the other, "let's talk about why you're really here."
The demon's name was Nithael, and Michael was surprised she didn't immediately recognize her as a fellow Bearer. Then again, unless it was Lucifer, it was rare for her to interact with the Fallen ones in general.
The two were currently sitting at the foot of Nithael's bed, and the demon was acting like she hadn't just threatened an Archangel twice in one day. After popping a grape into her mouth, she asked, "So God finally decided to listen to Her people's cries, eh?"
Michael curled her lip. "She always listened!"
"Well then, why did she wait until now to do something about it? Come to think of it, why doesn't She just talk to Radames Herself instead of sending a mouthpiece to do it?"
"The Lord works—"
"—in mysterious ways. Yes, yes. I know."
Who did this demon think she was? Obviously she had no obligation to care for anything about Heaven, but that didn't make it any less annoying.
Soon, Michael. The Archangel was currently trying to stop herself from smiting her then and there. Soon. "She's here for them now, and that's all that matters."
Nithael shrugged. "If you say so."
Michael was about to respond, until the door opened and in came a little boy; he seemed to be no older than six.
Nithael's face immediately lit up upon seeing him and welcomed him with open arms when he ran up to her. "My son," she explained to Michael, who was surprised to hear so much affection in her voice. "His name is Ahotep." To the child, she asked, "Aren't you supposed with your tutor?"
Michael looked on, fascinated. "I've never seen a cambion before." But then, she didn't think demons in general wanted anyone to know where their offspring were.
"Hush!" Nithael hissed, covering the boy's ears. "He doesn't know what I am! No one does, and I intend to keep it that way."
"Y-yes, of course." Michael expected the demon wanted to keep her identity a secret, but the fact that she seemed so defensive about it came as a bit of a surprise.
Nithael's anger quickly disappeared when she looked at her son again and kissed his cheek. "Now, I believe we should both be getting ready for dinner soon."
Aaron said the words before anyone could touch the food. "This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, has to say: Let my people go."
Radames stared at him as though he had grown another head. "You want me to what?"
"Let my people go." Aaron repeated the words with fierce determination, and Moses joined in this time.
"Is that so?" Radames retorted, looking mildly amused. "And who is this god that I should obey him?" Eyes fixed solely on his cousin, he asked, "Is this why you came back, Moses?" He actually sounded hurt.
The prophet nodded. "I wish I could say I'd come back under better circumstances, Radames, but surely you can see what you're doing to my people is wrong." He took off his ring and slowly handed it to his cousin. Michael guessed it had been a gift.
When Radames took it, she could see various emotions warring on his face. For once, she almost felt pity for him. But eventually, he clutched the ring in his fist and glared at Moses with a fire in his eyes.
"Your people?" Pharaoh stood, slamming his hands on the table. "You didn't even know you were Hebrew until the day before you were exiled! Tell me, would you have cared for these slaves if you never knew you were one of them?"
Moses flinched and his eyes were downcast.
"Yes, I thought so," Pharaoh said, sitting back down. "In fact, since you're so determined to be one of them, you're welcome to join them in their work."
Before either Moses or Aaron could say anything, Pharaoh nodded to his guards and said, "Escort Moses and his friends out. Oh, and cousin? Here's a message of my own: tell the slaves that their workload has been doubled. All thanks to you."
It was then Michael decided that Moses was the worst prophet she ever had the displeasure of knowing.
Moses returned to the palace the next day, Michael and Aaron at his side. "Let my people go, Radames."
This time, Pharaoh laughed. "Bring me proof of this god of yours, and perhaps I shall consider." He clearly wasn't expecting Moses to actually take him up on it.
Moses briefly glanced back at Aaron, who nodded. "Behold. The power of God." Though he'd stepped away from it, the staff stood in place before slowly transforming into a cobra. The snake hissed threateningly at the Egyptians as they all backed away.
All, that is, except for Pharaoh. "Is that all?" he asked in a bored tone. "My priests are able to do the same thing."
Said priests nodded and smiled smugly, though they stood behind the throne.
"And it'll take much more than a snake to convince me. You're wasting your time here, Moses. This conversation is over."
He's wrong, Michael thought as Pharaoh turned away. Knowing God, this is only the beginning. The real question was, how far was She willing to go to get what She wanted?
First it was the river of blood.
Then came the frogs, lice, and flies.
The livestock then died, followed by the Egyptians developing boils.
Hail and fire then rained down from the sky, and then the Lord decided to bring back insects in the form of locusts. After that, came the cloud of darkness.
One by one, the plagues came, though the Israelites were completely unaffected by it all. And still, Pharaoh's heart was hardened.
But where the king of Egypt was stubborn, Moses was persistent. By the time the third plague came by, he even began going to Pharaoh without his brother's help. So at least one good thing had come out of all this destruction.
"I will never let your people go!" Pharaoh hissed once Moses appeared before him in the cover of darkness. From the torch lighting his face, he looked a little worse for wear these days, with bags under his eyes. "Aren't you getting tired of this?"
"Aren't you getting tired of all this misfortune befalling you?" Moses retorted. "Let my people go, and it will stop. A kingdom should not be built on the backs of slaves."
As always, Pharaoh refused.
He will decide the final plague.
God? Michael frantically looked around for the Creator, but no one was there besides the two bickering men. But she heard Her voice clearly. What did She mean Pharaoh would decide the final plague?
The Archangel shook her head. Whatever it would be, she wouldn't be able to prevent it. And if the king became the cause of his own downfall, then so be it.
"Michael?" Nithael cautiously approached her, a lit torch in one hand while she held her son's hand in the other. "You're still here?"
"So is Moses." Michael glanced at the prophet.
"Isn't that the man who did all this?" Ahotep asked loudly, clinging on tightly to his mother.
The two men finally took notice of them, and Michael saw Pharaoh's expression soften when he looked at his son.
"He wanted to see you," Nithael explained as she and the boy made their way towards him. Glaring at Moses, she asked, "But yes, is this not the man who's responsible for all our suffering?"
"It would cease if you would only let the Hebrews go!" Moses said. "Please, Radames. Think of your son."
Pharaoh's eyes went from his cousin to his son and back again. By the time they reached Moses, there was nothing but contempt in them. "I am. You Hebrews have been nothing but trouble. My father had the right idea about how to deal with your people."
"Radames..."
"And I think it's time I finished the job."
"Radames!"
The Lord's words came back to haunt Michael as she stared at Pharaoh's son. He will choose the final plague. There would be a great cry in all of Egypt, such as never had been or ever would be again.
There was a frantic knock on the door, and Michael cautiously went over to open it. Must've been some Israelite who didn't have lamb's blood with them.
But it wasn't. "Nithael?"
The demon rushed insidew a sleeping Ahotep wrapped in a blanket in her arms—at least Michael hoped he was only sleeping. "I came as quickly as I could without being detected. Why didn't you tell us the final plague was going to involve Azrael?"
"Would your husband have listened?"
She ignored the question and layed her son on a nearby bed before turning to Michael with pleading eyes. "That doesn't matter now. And I don't care what happens to me, just please make sure Ahotep is safe." By now, she was sobbing and gripping onto Michael's robe.
A wave of pity washed over the Archangel, but... "I'm sorry, Nithael. But I can't help you. How do you think it would look like if I helped a demon?"
The sobs ceased. "You're worried about your already stellar reputation?" Nithael growled. "Look, all I'm asking is to hide here until Death passes. And if anyone asks, I'll just tell them I snuck in."
Michael sighed. You're not giving me much of a choice here, are you? "Fine."
"Thank you." She then went over to be with her son, but immediately let out a scream as soon as she touched his face.
Michael rushed over, and her heart sank when she saw the boy wasn't breathing. "He must've died on your way over here."
"He was innocent!" Nithael cried. "Why get him involved in a war that has nothing to do with him?"
Michael wanted to comfort her, but what could she say? "Um... this isn't your fault."
This proved to be a poor choice of words. By now, Nithael was laughing hysterically. "You're right. It's not my fault. It's yours!"
What?
"If you hadn't caused the Fall, none of this would've even happened! No sin, no upcoming war... And don't even get me started on your so-called benevolent God!" Hellfire appeared in her hands as she spat out the last word, and Michael immediately backed away. She knew the demon was wrong, but there didn't seem to be any reasoning with this grieving mother.
Thankfully, Nithael stayed where she was. "Oh, don't worry. I'll still leave you for Satan to deal with when the time comes. But know this, commander. This is far from the last time you'll see of me!"
And with that, she was gone, taking the corpse with her.
Michael sighed as soon as she was alone. She was used to demons having a vendetta against her, so this time was no different. Hopefully this wouldn't come back to bite her later.
When Radames finally let the Hebrews go free, Michael thought that would be the end of it.
Until she saw the Egyptian army coming their way. Worst still, there was nowhere to run to. We can either take our chances with the army or the sea. But they've come too far for their journey to end now! There had to be another way to get out of this situation.
She was soon proven right. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Moses plant his staff in the shoreline, and the waters rose up, parting the Red Sea and creating a path to the other side. Michael was amazed. Maybe I was wrong about him after all.
Behind her, she heard the whinnying of horses and turned to see a tornado of fire between the Israelites and Egyptians. Thank you, God. Sighing in relief, Michael joined the Hebrews in crossing over to the other side. Her people were finally free, and now everything was going to be fine.
Michael decided to accompany Moses one final time as he climbed up to Mount Sinai. According to him, the Lord had one last message to give him, a set of laws that would help guide Her people to a new life.
Commandments, She called them, and they included such things as not taking the Lord's name in vain, or forbidding worship of false idols over Her. The words were carved on two sets of stone tablets, and Moses watched on in amazement with each word that was written.
Michael looked on in silence, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong back at camp. It's probably nothing. She'd summoned Gabriel just before she got here and had put him in charge of watching over the humans. He would've been here by now if anything happened.
And besides, the Egyptians were gone. What could possibly hurt them now?
Once all ten Commandments were all written out, Moses—his hair and beard now white—thanked the Almighty and both he and Michael climbed down the mountain together.
But there was still that uneasy feeling she couldn't shake off.
"Michael! Moses!"
And Gabriel's frantic voice only made her feel worse. He was shaking by the time he reached her, Moses' friend Joshua at his side. "What took you both so long?" the angel asked.
"What do you mean?" Moses asked.
"You were up on the mountain for forty days," Joshua explained, and Michael and Moses widened their eyes at this. "I think everyone is beginning to get worried."
"It's more than that!" Gabriel took Michael hand and dragged her along with him.
"Gabriel, calm down!" Michael snapped as they went down the mountain. "Just tell me what's happened!" The more they descended, the more she heard music and singing.
Maybe the Hebrews were just celebrating their freedom? But why would Gabriel look so panicked if it was only that?
And then she saw it: there, in the middle of camp, amongst the singing and dancing and feasting, stood a giant golden calf.