Dove Caught in a Burning Bush Ch. 06

She didn't know how to respond, feeling suddenly bare beyond nakedness.

When all six wings were done, Crucifel's fingers felt raw but there was a certain satisfaction in seeing how Promethiel's feathers shone like white opals in the light. Satisfaction, and an extra helping of respect for the servants who usually took care of their wings for them during baths.

What remained was standard fare, washing the rest of her body with her wings curved around herself as a privacy curtain. It was all quick work, and when she was finished Promethiel moved closer to her, kissing her on the forehead before lowering his lips to her ear.

"Wait for me in my chambers in the evening, or don't, but know that I will be thinking of you either way."

Crucifel didn't reply, yet again her tongue seemed to have twisted into a knot in her mouth as her yellow eyes widened in shock.

He didn't wait for her reaction either, pressing one more soft kiss to her temple before stepping out of the baths to dry himself and dress. As soon as the door closed behind him, Crucifel let out a long sigh.

"I am a fool to end all fools," she whispered, crossing herself as she sought to snap the wings of each butterfly fluttering in her stomach.

Wretch, beast, leech, murderer.

None of them were incorrect descriptors. He took the titles without complaint, wearing them as a cloak that he could wave dramatically or duck beneath as appropriate. It was a dragging weight at times, but if lost in a blizzard, even a sheep would find the fur of a wolf tempting. With what was at risk, he couldn't afford to feel guilt or second guess himself.

And truly? He would never regret his love for Crucifel, not ever.

Even now, with ichor on his hands and the pain he'd caused her with the murder of their parents, he could think only of how much she meant to him. And he knew that it was only because she meant so much to him that he'd been able to strike down the beings who had given them life.

It wasn't his only option, but it had been the right one.

The utter peace that Promethiel had felt when they slept together in a quietly breathing tangle went bone deep. His six wings, even in their smaller, inactive state, made sleeping on his side difficult at best and uncomfortable at worst. But he barely noticed the discomfort, so enamored had he been by the scent of her hair and the feel of her body pressed against his.

He knew it was a risk, trying to entice Crucifel back into his embrace so soon, not even a full day after finally having her. His invitation had been open ended and vague but even if she were to just sleep in his arms again, that would be enough.

Hells below, he would even sleep like a dog on the floor and give her the bed if that was what she wanted.

His beloved was a hard one, and it would take time to break through completely, but he was more than willing to work for it.

Promethiel had expected it would perhaps take several years for her to even be willing to entertain his advances, maybe even decades or a century given his violent deposition of their parents. But, it had been nearly a year to the day since his coronation, and finally Promethiel could say he knew the sweet agony of having Crucifel so close, of feeling their bodies connected in such a mortal, fleshly way.

He wasn't going to let her go, not ever, and if he had to spend the rest of eternity wooing her over and over to keep her safe, then he'd do just that.

The Archangel felt a tremor of something wonderful and terrible within him.

It was madness wasn't it?

Like a rabid mongrel wandering in endless circles, gnashing and wailing at the air, at the same well worn struggle over and over.

He'd be her wolf, clawing at her door until it was worn thin, her walls crumbling around him until there was nothing to stop him from devouring her whole, keeping her safe and sound in his jaws.

"Is all well, Your Majesty?"

Promethiel looked to his advisor, a short angel with tousled silver hair and deep amber eyes.

"My apologies, Morassiel," Promethiel said, smiling contritely. "I was lost in thought. Nonetheless, you know I agree wholeheartedly with you that the demons have become far too bold of late. The one that invaded my sister's chambers was a particularly troubling incident."

The Archangel was still furious about that, enough that a small spray of embers left his mouth on his next exhale.

"Edenara has lived in peace far too long, and with the passing of the crown the beings in the wastes are thinking now is the best time to test the limits of the new ruler," Promethiel hissed, leaning forward in his throne. "But they'll learn quickly enough that I am not my father nor my mother. I won't just end them, I'll kill them properly. I'll take their flame and brimstone and burn them down to their bones."

Morassiel shifted their jaw, but nodded, wings ruffling in unease. "I fear it will only get worse before it gets better, Your Grace," they said, "they have always been a problem for Edenara since the founding of the kingdom, and every year their numbers seem to swell. The seal your parents placed around the kingdom is weakening, and they know."

Promethiel's jaw twitched, but he kept his expression one of quiet consideration.

"The Seal was never going to last forever, everyone has known this from the beginning," he replied. "I am eternally grateful for the sacrifice made to create it and the previous seal, but the sheer loss it would take to form a new one large enough to protect the entire kingdom is a weighty prospect."

It was too much damned loss, not just personally, but on a wide scale that would cut deep.

Far more than he was willing to give for what amounted to a cloth pressed over a gaping wound, but it was what had kept the demons out of Edenara for so long and was so romanticized by the masses that it'd become the golden standard of security.

"There are other ways to keep malevolent beings at bay, ones that don't require some sort of grand gesture of mass altruism." The Archangel stood from his throne, making his way toward one of the massive panels of stained glass to stare out over the palace gardens and the city beyond, taking in the ethereal vista of Edenara's landscape until it met the sea on the eastern side. "What I would like to see is a more proactive deterrent. Something that will strike fear into the hearts of anything and anyone who would wish us ill."

Promethiel wanted to claw an instinctual fear into the celestial wastes beyond his lands, and if it meant drenching the stars in blood then he would paint the borders of their new Heaven red so that the baleful eyes of all that sought to harm them would pass over in terror.

"And what do you suggest, Your Grace?" Morassiel asked, a note of careful concern in their voice.

"The first step shall be to gather intelligence on our enemy," the king spoke over his shoulder to his advisor. "We must know what we're up against. If we can scout out any nearby strongholds then we can better prepare a plan for how we aim to engage the scourge lying in wait at our borders once the wall falls."

With the neglect that Edenara had given to its mindfulness beyond their borders for so long, Promethiel could only imagine how many demons and other beings had set up shop just outside. All it would take was a healthy strategy and bravery on the part of his soldiers, but they could do this. They could make the kingdom inhabitable without the need for the Seal.

Morassiel, ever the Devil's advocate despite their angelic nature, broke through his thoughts.

"While this is a possible route to take, if all else fails then we should remain prepared to refresh the Seal, Your Majesty," they said, tone steady. "The angels of Edenara have known relative peace since the very first Martyrcost transfiguration, many have relaxed into the idea of continued peace."

Promethiel's smile was serene as it reflected back at him, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Then we shall remind them that their holy flame is not simply for lighting their hearths."

He turned away from the window, striding back over the marble floor to his throne with his wings folded tight to still the angry quiver running up his spine, sitting down once more. "In the meantime, I shall consider the idea of creating a new seal as a final resort, but I am not keen on the idea of sacrificing the angels I have sworn to protect. It is a measure of absolute desperation."

Morassiel nodded, "I understand. But if it comes to it, know that the angels of Edenara will stand with you to the end. It does warm my heart that you would fight so hard to avoid another Martyrcosting, but take heed that it is an act of great love and selflessness, not condemnation."

Promethiel felt a twinge of revulsion deep within him.

Not toward the beings who had and were willing to sacrifice themselves to create the Seal, but toward the absolute waste of so many souls that would happily go to something worse than death.

Every angelic being within his borders had always known that they might have to make such a choice someday, but now that it was looming upon the horizon, he wasn't sure how many would actually be willing to take up that permanent transfiguration. Or should even have to.

His father had been right about one thing that night, something had to be done before literal Hell broke loose and spilled into Edenara.

"How much longer do you think the current seal will last, Morassiel?" Promethiel asked, tilting his head at his advisor with a look of consideration. "Did my parents ever give you an estimation of its lifespan?"

Morassiel shook their head, frowning apologetically, "No, Your Grace, I am afraid not. They did tell me that it would take a great deal of sacrifice to create the next one, but they never told me how long theirs would last."

Promethiel swallowed down a tongue of flame, feeling his throat growing hot from the effort it took to not spray the ornately carved armrest of his throne with frustrated fire. "I see, thank you for your honesty," he murmured, inhaling slowly before exhaling with only a small puff of smoke.

Typical. The flagrant willingness to toss away their subjects' lives but unwilling to elaborate on information that could save them.

All while jabbering about noble sacrifice and the greater good. He wouldn't be surprised if they simply didn't know nor even had an estimate aside from 'a very long time.' The felled monarchs would rather have an untold count of their subjects calcify to consecrated stone once again than admit to themselves that they needed to do something more to prevent the need altogether.

"This may be a matter to bring before the Council," Morassiel ventured, gentle with the suggestion but not shying away from it either. Ever pragmatic, but that was why they had the job they did. "I know that you and Iorifrei have not seen eye to eye as of late, but he is a very wise angel and his word on the matter could prove invaluable."

Promethiel felt a twinge of annoyance at the thought of going crawling to the council head for advice, but he couldn't deny the truth in Morassiel's words. Even if Iorifrei thought of him as an inexperienced whelp of a ruler, the older angel had been alive for many megaanna. He had seen both war and peace beyond Edenara, even witnessing the fall of Heaven itself, if anyone could grasp the situation they were facing then it would be him.

"Very well," Promethiel said, carefully flattening out the sneer from his tone. "You are right, Iorifrei has always been a valuable ally. It may be wise to see what he and the rest have to say on the matter."

Morassiel nodded, "I shall arrange for messengers to be sent out as soon as possible."

Promethiel hummed in agreement, tracing the golden eyes on his throne with the tips of his fingers. "In the meantime, I want you to find the best minds in Edenara in the matters of defense and strategy. And... Morassiel, may I ask you something. Not as your king but another angel?"

Morassiel tilted their head curiously, seeming surprised by the request but nodding in acquiesce nonetheless, "Of course, Your Grace."

Promethiel took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing, "if it came down to it, would you truly be willing to become part of a new Seal? Would you think that it was worth it?"

Morassiel studied him, their gaze slipping to the side as they mulled over the question. It didn't take long before they seemed to make up their mind on what to say. "That is a very potent question indeed, Your Grace. The Seal was created with the willing sacrifice of so many angels, and through that sacrifice we have been allowed to thrive in relative peace for thousands of years."

The advisor paused, their amber eyes narrowing in silent determination, then continued. "My life belongs to Edenara and the angels who live here. If merging into a new seal is what I needed to do, then it would be done without hesitation."

Promethiel had all the information he needed from that response.

At least at face value, Morassiel was yet another among his ranks who believed wholeheartedly in the necessity of his parents' Seal. Of continuing it.

God afar, he wanted to snarl and grab their shoulders to shake them, ask if they truly thought that this was the beginning and end of the matter of their very soul. Did they really believe there could only ever be wave after wave of lives fed into a temporary relief valve?

"I see. Thank you for your bravery and honesty, Morassiel," Promethiel replied warmly, letting a smile grace his lips despite his inner urge to spit flames across the throne room. "Both I and Edenara are lucky to have your counsel and strength of will."

No matter how much time passed or how many angels were effectively erased by martyrcosting, the problem would never be solved by just putting a cloth over their gilded cage. But he couldn't even be angry at them, could he? Morassiel was a good angel, willing to selflessly give up their sense of existence as they knew it. Every single one of them needed a lesson in greed, of self preservation. There was no one to play nice for but themselves anymore.

Morassiel dipped their head, bowing dutifully. "Thank you, Your Grace. It is an honor to serve you as it was your parents before you."

Promethiel let his own head tilt forward briefly in what felt like an appropriate display of respect toward the memory of his parents, feeling anything but. They were snakes, serpents, the both of them, just with polished scales. He straightened, wiping away the dark thoughts like a smudge on his consciousness. "Well, we still have a full day ahead. You are dismissed for now, Morassiel, go in peace."

The advisor bowed again, their wings swooping low to brush the polished floor before taking their leave to continue their own duties.

Promethiel leaned back in his throne, staring at the countless gilded constellations of eyes and stars carved into the ceiling before closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, holding the air in his chest then exhaling slowly. It had been a long day, and it wasn't even noon yet.

The only lure keeping him marching steadily through with any lightness in his heart was the possibility of tangling himself up with Crucifel for a few hours at the end of it, tasting her and hearing those delightful gasps that she'd made the previous night. Promethiel doubted she would be waiting for him, but even the thought of another night spent holding her made his chest ache longingly.

Alas, there was nothing he could do to speed up the day. Archangel or not, he as of yet had no sway over time itself to such an extent.

So he continued on with his duties; meeting with petitioners, several of whom were nobles seeking to curry the favor of Edenara's newest king, attending a ceremony for a new batch of the guard that had begun their training and listening to reports on the state of the Seal at various major points throughout their border. It was mercifully standard fare, if not a bit dull, but if anyone could say that they had no room for complaint, it was the angel that'd literally killed for this job.

Finally, after hours of meetings and no small amount of patience or lulling smiles, he was granted some time to himself once more.

Promethiel had thought that he could escape the day without receiving word of the Council's reply to Morassiel's summons, but the universe had a knack for jabbing him through the bars of his cage. The beings on the Council had been in their position since long before his creation, their countless years meant that usually the members of the prestigious circle took their sweet, sweet time with damn near everything. But of course, they would choose today to not drag their heels.

So nearly in the free, only to have his gem encrusted leash yanked back by a messenger of Morassiel's that had arrived just moments ago. He'd been achingly close to being able to go see if Crucifel had accepted his invitation, and all the sweet things they could do together.

He wanted to scream.

The messenger bowed low, "Your Majesty, the Council has arrived by your request. They await your presence in the Septematrium."

Promethiel stood and smoothed out his robes, snowy hair falling around his shoulders, "Very well. Thank you, Prisamon."

Prisamon nodded and exited the throne room, leaving Promethiel alone with his lingering frustrations. The Council had come, and he couldn't very well refuse them now that all seven were here.