Chapter Text
Chapter One: The Truth Beneath the Rose
-Within Temptation
I'm hoping, I'm praying
I won't get lost between two worlds
For all I have seen the truth lies in between
Give me the strength to face the wrong that I have done
Now that I know the darkest side of me
It was a velvety black night- the kind where only the faintest light of the stars above could shed illumination on the ground below. The silver and pink light from galaxies unhindered by human light pollution and free of dark-grey clouds flittered through the air into a tall round chamber with honeycombed walls and no ceiling- except for that of the sky. Inside each cubby was a small, round object of pure light. They seemed suspended, as if in water, bobbing gently to a nonexistent current and letting loose a gentle tinkle like wind-chimes whenever they bumped the side of their small containers. All around the chamber, the ghosts of children laughing, of barbecues long gone, of smiles since passed, and the slow delight of pure happiness hovered. It was a Sanctuary, one of the many located in Heaven, where the souls of the dead lived inside themselves, eternally happy and blessed.
A lone woman stood in the center of the Sanctuary, her curly coffee bean hair falling in glossy waves down her back. She was clothed in smoky blue garments that shimmered like silk, and wore battle-scarred silver armor. Protruding from her back where enormous wings with feathers that looked softer than swan down- partly translucent and seemingly able to contain no color and yet every color. Creamy cedar colored skin showed wherever the armor and cloth did not cover and a slightly dented iron helmet with a tail of blue horse-hair was tucked wearily under her arm.
She made no action, standing there amid the souls, with only the slightest flitter of a half smile on her bitter tinged lips. A flutter of wings echoed behind her, but she made no move to turn, only standing calmly with her back to the new arrival. She knew whom it was, she could feel his Grace greeting her own, welcoming their bonding together. She did however, address a question- though not specifically to him. Her child was intelligent, he would understand.
"It is very peaceful here, would you not agree?"
The angel who stood next to her was of strong build with golden armor that shown too bright to look directly at. A golden cape flowed to his ankles while bright wings of the purest white shimmered on his back. He considered the woman carefully with his head tilted slightly to the side- seeming to adhere to her as a superior despite his own grand stature.
"I suppose," he grunted noncommittally, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. The woman smiled once more, this time of more amusement than much else. That was Michael. Always uncomfortable with the topic of humanity. Despite his decision to trust his Father and protect humans, she knew he was secretly confused on why God insisted upon their deliverance. Most angels were, considering the sin that stained humans to be far inferior to their own Graceful selves. She understood their sentiment, but she did not accept it. The angels and humans were both equally good in their own ways, even if they had yet to acknowledge that fact themselves. She respected Michael for his loyalty, however, for even though he questioned the orders inwardly, he was never lenient on those who disobeyed them, and never once faltered in his own guidance over humans. He may never appreciate humanity, but his obedience would suffice. It was all she and the Father could ask, in truth.
"Are the Garrisons at full strength?" She asked to change the topic. While she was more than comfortable at staying silent and in personal peace inside the Sanctuaries, she knew she was among the few who enjoyed the presence of human souls. Michael, bless him, was the type of angel who enjoyed the peace before the storm of battle. He was never content if there was not someone to fight, someone to save, or something to accomplish that would bring him one step closer to achieving his Father's will. She understood him perfectly- having been the only other being present at his creation. He was, after all, her child.
"Beyond so," he replied easily, clearly more comfortable with this new line of conversation. "Though I cannot fathom why it is the Fallen would attack now, or even their motivation to bring the battle to us to begin with. They cannot hope to conquer Heaven, so why must they try? What do they hope to gain?"
She remained silent at his questions, knowing they were in part rhetorical, but also understanding Michael was sending her a type of plea. He was afraid as to why the demons would attack when it was blatantly clear that this was one battle they could not win. Why waste the troops, the energy, and the resources? Why?
She knew of course. She had seen this coming long before any of the other Prophetic Angels had, and she had hidden the vision from them. There were some things no one, not even an angel, could hope to avoid. Angels considered Fate to be a weak source applying only to humanity and their short existence; but she knew Fate allowed the attitude to exist partly of amusement and partly to make her frequent trips to Heaven more unnoticed. But Fate was ever more powerful than her children could being to imagine. If a Command of God was passed down to Fate, she became the third most powerful being in the universe, below only Death and God themselves. Her will could change the fate of an angel, even an Archangel. The Lady wished her children would learn their humility, and thus she knew why this particular destiny had been arranged. It would be unpleasant, most undoubtedly so, but necessary. She would willingly bear the worse types of punishment for her children, thus she could not refute this decision.
"My Lady?"
She sighed softly, hearing the question hidden underneath. He had seen her deliberations in the silence, and he wanted to know what it was she knew. She could not tell him, however. Michael was an intelligent son, but he could not understand what it was he needed to be taught. No one could, not really. Not even herself, though she may understand better than most.
"You know the outcome. You know why they are here." She knew he was trying his best to keep the accusatory tone from his voice, but his attempts were met with failure.
"I do." There was no point in an attempt to deny it, Michael had seen the look on her countenance. It was useless now to try and deceive him, even if angels could lie. "I understand perfectly."
"But you will not tell me." It wasn't a question. The disappointment in his voice was audible. She sighed, almost frustrated with her son. This was why she was still here, and not with the Father, wherever he may be. Michael was not yet ready to lead Heaven. He wanted the perfect army, where all were obedient and loyal much like himself. He wanted to command the Host of Heaven as a Garrison, and not as a family. He wanted to "protect" humanity by destroying Lucifer and freeing them from sin while annihilating half the planet . He wanted to drag the Fallen back, fighting, and force them to return to their old positions as obedient as they should have been from the beginning. He wanted to force down that individual spark in angels so as to make a perfect army. While his wishes were not lying with malicious intent, his ideals were not the ideals he should be trying to uphold. He was her son, and the Lady loved him, but it was clear to her that Heaven needed her guidance in order to properly function. Her angels needed her. And it was why this destiny grieved her so much.
"I cannot tell you, Michael, because there is nothing that can be done. I cannot change this fate, no matter how much I wish I may."
Michael snorted. "Fate is weaker than us. We are supreme beings, we can create and destroy as much as we seek."
"Pride," she chastised gently. 'Pride is dangerous Michael. Never forget why angels fall."
"No angel has fallen in the past three billion years," Michael argued. "There is not need to worry of Pride, it does not effect us. My Lady, if you have seen what the others have not, why have you not told us?"
"Because only I and the Father need to know," she replied in a clipped tone, allow some of her frustration to shine through. Her eyes flashed dangerously and Michael looked suddenly hard pressed not to take a step back. "And you will respect thus."
"As you say," he sighed in a resigned tone. She glared at him, but let the moment pass. She could talk to him of it later. A cold silence fell between the two angels as they stood tensely in the chamber, the moon and starlight filtering through the slight transparency of their feathers while the sweet, haunting memories of the souls invited them to join in the everlasting peace. The Lady let out a content sigh, allowing her Grace to drift through the memories, bringing a trill of happiness to each soul she touched. She would not understand why none of her children could seem to find peace in Sanctuaries. What was more comforting than the touching of another person's soul, and leaving them with a lingering content that filled one's own Grace to the brim with joy? While she did this in part to store power for the battle to come, drawing off the belief of the souls around her, she had no other pastime she enjoyed as much. Human souls were so unique, it was amazing to feel the thought processes and the individuality that they possessed. Angels had only the slightest of freedoms. For the most part, they were bred soldiers. Scholars, writers, poets, engineers, inventors...none of these were the occupation of angels. It made her sad, in a way, to see such uniformity among sentient beings. She understood angels were proud (far too much so) of their functioning, but it irked her that they could be so blind in the ways of art and science, even after watching humans since the Dawn of Humanity.
An irritated look on Michael's face caused her to comprehend he had asked her a question. She blinked and returned to herself, chiding her mind for having drifted from the subject at hand. Demons and the Fallen were gathering at the gates. Now was the time to prepare herself, not to wander down strange half-light paths of echoing thoughts.
"I am sorry," she apologized sincerely, "could your rephrase your question?"
Michael sighed. "I wanted to know if I should add any more Seraphs to the Fifth Garrison. The Garrison is composed mostly of cupids, and while they provide a useful aid on Earth, they are hardly fit for battle."
"They are the most capable archers you have," she mused as she considered his words, only half paying attention to her gentle reprimand. "If you stationed them correctly, they should prove most useful to your field troops. No, I believe Mariel will be enough to keep them from demonic harm, though I imagine she is hardly pleased by the promotion."
Michael chuckled for the first time, making the Lady's lips twitch in her own smile. An angel's laugh was rare, but when it occurred, it always rung out with a sincere and sweet force before fading like the ring of a bell- leaving a happier moment behind. "Hardly. Last I saw, she threatened them all with instant death should they decided to approach her."
"They are somewhat overly fond of physical contact," she agreed with another hidden smile. Her teasing was gentle enough to convey her true affection for her cupids, though she could name some angels who would be more than willing to "reprimand" a few for their interesting way of showing love.
Michael's laugh had just begun to fade when both mother and son winced as one- feeling a sudden loss ache through their insides like fire.
"Serphil." the Lady spoke softly, instantly locating the missing link in the spiritual chain connecting her and her Grace with the other angels.
"The first casualty," Michael agreed as his voice trembled in anger. Searing pain flared through the link as a blonde haired, slim figure suddenly appeared and crumpled before them. Michael caught her before she landed on the ground, her wings crumpled awkwardly to the side, feathers glued with drying blood. The Lady felt her heart leap into her throat, knowing this was the beginning of the end. She pushed aside the growing fear and apprehension, not daring to wish the future could be avoided.
"Hester!" Michael spoke the blonde angel's name as he tapped her forehead with his fingers, healing the stab wound in her side. "Where?" His single word was terse. She could see the tension in his strong shoulders as he waited impatiently for Hester to answer.
"Eastern gate," Hester gasped as she stood up. "Serphil..."
"We know," Michael interrupted as he exchanged a look with the Lady. Hester bowed quickly to the both of them, always remembering her edict, even in war.
"I must go to the Third Garrison, unless you have new orders...?"
"No," Michael informed her quickly, "Go. Good luck, and make haste."
Hester nodded and bowed once more to the Lady before vanishing in a flurry of wings.
Michael turned to her, and she saw the insecurity in his eyes, though he hid it well. She smiled softly, knowing what he would ask and knowing her answer would not please him. Still, Michael would be well in the end. He needed to trust her, his soldiers, and himself. If there was ever a profound flaw in the Archangel, it was his lack of trust.
"Can you tell me nothing at all?" He begged slightly, eyes pleading.
She shook her head and carefully strapped her helm in place, pinning her chocolate locks to her back. She stepped forward, catching the hurt in his eyes, and drew his head in as she kissed his iron-clad brow. Her thumb caressed the wing design on his helmet as she stared at her son with the love and pride only a mother could have for her child.
"Have faith."
And then she was gone.