Dove Caught in a Burning Bush Ch. 08

This time, a gentle nudge roused the sleeping prophetess, waking her from the comfortable dark that she'd been adrift in.

Crucifel blinked groggily at the not-too-unfamiliar room, body tense in momentary confusion before sighing into the warm skin of Promethiel's chest. He was still wrapped around her, their limbs and wings tangled as the steady beat of his heart sounded against her ear. The heat from their pressed bodies was almost too much to bear, but she nestled against closer anyway, shifting one of her wings over his own to settle across his back.

"Someone is far more affectionate than our last morning together," Promethiel's sleepy murmur stirred the hair atop her head, his arm slipping around her waist to hold her with gentle insistence. "Not going to go fleeing away at the first ray of sunshine?"

She tilted her head to meet his gaze in the warm crimson light, a shiver running her through as she felt his fingers trace serpentine patterns up the indentations of her spine. "It's not yet time for you to be awakened," she whispered, feeling the first flutter of worry in her stomach while her mind instinctually set a timer. "I can linger a few minutes more before then."

It frightened Crucifel to no end how she was willingly laying there, bare in Promethiel's arms, knowing she should be under her own blankets in her own bed, still asleep and not closing her eyes as her brother's lips brushed her forehead in a too-tender kiss. It made her guts twist with such a mixture of emotions, some of them horrifically pleasant while others felt suitably like the shock of ice water.

How many times had she felt herself shattering around him the previous night, muffling cries into his chest as he held her close? How many times had she allowed him to take her as she whimpered and moaned, splaying her legs happily for the archangel, digging her heels into the small of his back to encourage him deeper?

Too many. More than once was already far too many, but Crucifel had been practically drunk on the ardent affection that her sibling lavished upon her.

She'd never felt so wanted in a way that went beyond her role as prophetess or princess, Promethiel wasn't seeking salvation, status or even forgiveness for what they did together, he was monstrously, destructively loving her.

Crucifel leaned into the soft brush of his lips, feeling her feathers ruffle in a pleased shudder that woke the moths in her chest. With their last nocturnal tryst, their true nature had revealed itself to her. These weren't feelings she could be allowed to consider in the revealing light of day, they were night blooming with wings too powdery soft to belong to a butterfly. He'd put starry moths in her heart.

"Crucifel?" Promethiel asked, voice still raspy with sleep. "May I ask you something?"

She swallowed, feeling his wings brush against hers with delicate strokes that were obviously meant to soothe. Was she that obvious? "If you can't now, I cannot imagine when you possibly could," she chuckled uneasily, but nodded. "Yes, go on."

In the rich, flame colored light spilling through his windows, the king was painted in colors that belonged to autumn, or maybe Hell. His auric eyes caught shadow and light together in a way that was almost mesmerizing as he touched the tips of their noses together. "Why did you come last night? I didn't expect to actually find you in my chambers, but there you were," Promethiel whispered, tracing the curve of her jaw with a thumb.

"I shouldn't have been," she replied against his lips, lowering her eyes to study the bedsheets where warm reflections of geometric light shone down through the windows. "I just...I wanted to..."

It was disgusting to admit, wasn't it? That her body had craved his, that her weary mind clung to the tenderness he'd shown her, even if she had every right to tear his eyes from their sockets and break his bones. But it was true, and Crucifel felt her eyes grow glassy with tears that she hadn't known were about to spring.

"I wanted to be held," she admitted, wings sliding down limply to her sides. "I wanted to be held by you, by someone who loved me beyond my role as a shepherd. You love so, so viciously, Promethiel."

The words began to spill from her lips, hushed and quavering. "I wanted you. Your warmth, your hands on me, your mouth, the way you fill me up so that I can hardly breathe with how we fit together. I wanted so selfishly to exist in a way that wasn't tied to my station in the kingdom, but as an angel, a being. Just for a brief moment. And then you did, and now I don't know what to do!"

Promethiel's grip tightened around her waist as her voice broke on that last syllable, his wings curling around them both as he pulled her close with a soft shush. He kissed her teary eyes while she shuddered against him, pressing his lips to each teary eyelid before cupping her face in his palms.

"Your existence matters so much more than you could ever know, Dear," he whispered, a hint of flame on his breath as he traced her cheeks with his thumbs. "Don't you think that you have earned some of that selfishness? Edenara has asked and asked of you for as long as you have existed, and you've given until you bled without asking anything in return."

Crucifel swallowed, her throat feeling tense with emotion as she listened. Of course she gave to Edenara, she was the Prophetess and it was her duty to give her heart and soul to the kingdom. To her angels.

From the day that she was old enough to recognize her purpose, or at least begin learning of it, Crucifel had been nurtured into her role. She was the light that illuminated their path forward, he was the torch that would burn bright long after she'd faded. It was a weighty burden to bear, but one that Crucifel accepted with steadfast determination to see through to the end.

Even knowing that she was walking a road that led to her own loss of self.

Both their purposes, not just Crucifel's, but his too, were at risk here. Promethiel had somehow not lost his third set of wings when he struck down their parents, but surely whatever grasp he had left on his divinity was tenuous. And yet here she was, threatening to tear that last string free just because she wanted to be held and touched by a being who should never have pursued her in the first place.

"I'm ruining you, Promi," Crucifel croaked, feeling the heat fade from her tears as they crawled down her cheeks, only to be swept away by his thumbs. "I want to protect you, to protect everyone so badly, but I can't even keep myself in check!"

"Then don't," Promethiel replied, kissing her firmly before drawing back. "Own those desires, Dear, stop pretending that they're going to disappear just because you wish them away. You break yourself to pieces for our angels every single day, if you want to end your evenings with me reciting poetry between your thighs then it's not anyone else's Goddamn business."

His words were a low growl, but the fire in his eyes was heartfelt, a desperate plea that drew her in.

"I am yours," Promethiel whispered, "whether you want me or not. I am yours, Crucifel."

How dare he.

How dare he make her feel all of these things; the warmth, the love, the pleasure, the pain. How dare he touch her so intimately, cradle her with those same hands that were stained with ichor? Their paths couldn't continue to tangle, not when they were destined to come to a fork further down.

Crucifel squeezed her eyes closed, clenching her teeth as her conflicting emotions waged violent, all consuming war inside of her. She was Edenara's Prophetess and princess, with a duty to serve her kingdom above all else. Her role was to be a catalyst, a candle whose melted wax would seal a great wound even if just for a little while. Extinguished for the protection of her angels.

That was nothing to feel so deeply upset about, it was joyous, but if they kept twisting then that separation would tear them both apart long before any seal did.

"Please, don't," she begged, voice a quiet warning, "don't say things like that to me, please."

Promethiel's own expression shifted darker, deathly serious as he touched their foreheads. "I love you, Crucifel. You are precious to me, but not because of what you can give. I love you because you are a part of me that can never be replaced, My Heart."

With a strangled cry, she twisted in his arms like a wild animal, rolling them over until she was on top of him. He let her, staring up at the bristling prophetess with a fierce sort of serenity. When her fingers wrapped around his throat, Promethiel tilted his chin back to make her furious grip easier, gold eyes meeting her citrine ones as she leaned over him.

"I should hate you!" Crucifel snarled, fingers trembling as she squeezed his neck until the veins in it bulged. "I should have killed you that night, and every night after! I should have put you down like a lyssan dog while their ichor was still wet... If I can't protect you then maybe I should just kill you!"

She felt holy flame billow from between her bared teeth, illuminating Promethiel's face as her ivory hair spilled down around them like a veil. That was fine, no one needed to see her unsightly fury, her pain as she remembered the death of her parents and her brother's betrayal.

Everything else too, a thousand years worth of memories. So many faces that expressed pity or carefully measured distance, with so few exceptions. There was no way to reconcile the two. That bloody, violent clash of adoration and agony.

Her hands squeezed tighter, but still Promethiel didn't fight her, ivory wings twitching flat against the silken sheets before snapping up and closing around hers. He gathered them up, pressing his sister's feathery appendages to her back with his own in an embrace. He then lifted shaky hands to sweep back some of the hair covering her face, cupping Crucifel's cheeks gently.

"You should hate me," he choked out, smiling tremulously up at her. "It's natural...but you can't make me stop loving you."

A sob caught in Crucifel's throat, her fingers digging into his skin. "Stop it," she pleaded, feeling her heart twist and tear into jagged, bleeding edges in her chest. "I can't stand this," she whispered, "it hurts too much."

"I know," Promethiel grunted, "I wish... I could wipe that pain away."

Slowly, her hands loosened their grip, shaking too badly to maintain it. Even now, waist deep in the staining waters of their wickedness, she couldn't bring herself to kill him. Her brother was so many things that made her ill, but he was also a being who'd been there for her when she needed him most. Even after just nearly strangling him, Promethiel was hugging her close as she wept into his shoulder. She knew she couldn't hold on to him forever, but the thought of letting go pained her just as much.

Were these those shattered pieces he'd spoken of? Broken on her shores, always coming back even if he had to bleed for it. And where did the putting themselves back together start?

Crucifel's chest ached, feeling too full of things that cut and burned.

She lifted her teary face from Promethiel's shoulder, glaring up at his face before crashing her mouth to his with a growl, their teeth clicking as she kissed him with a possessive hunger. He let her take that kiss, pulling it back to return it with an equally desperate ardor as he pressed against her, hands sliding down Crucifel's sides and gripping her hips with a similar sense of firm ownership.

Both angels paused as a knock sounded out from the other side of the thick wooden door, breaking off their bruising kiss with matching startled looks.

Promethiel was quick, sweeping three wings and a blanket over her as he rolled onto his side, holding her flat against his chest while she curled herself smaller. Crucifel was safely out of sight when he called out, using the roughness her fingers had pressed into his throat to his advantage in order to create the voice of a disgruntled sleeper. "Yes?"

The door opened with a creak and from her hiding place beneath her brother's wings, Crucifel could hear the voice of the royal advisor, Morassiel, as they spoke to Promethiel.

"I apologize for waking you so early, your Majesty, but there is a summons for you from the Council. They wish to see you this morning," Morassiel said, their voice was its usual calm and cool, but Crucifel could swear there was a particular note of grimness to it. The way that Promethiel's body tensed only made her wonder what news they could have received to warrant such an early meeting.

Her brother took in a shaky breath, as if he was wracked with enough emotion to risk tears. "I imagine they do."

His voice truly was a gravelly hiss from her fury, and he swallowed heavily before running a hand through his hair, looking down at where Crucifel hid against him with a grimace. "I have an apology to make, do I not?"

God's love, what did he do now.

"That would be wise, Your Grace," Morassiel said as they stepped into the room, closing the door behind them for privacy. "Councilwing Zirthil, especially, has all rights to be vexed with you this morning."

"I'm sure, I was quite cruel to him last evening." Promethiel kept his head bowed mournfully, taking a page from Crucifel's book and allowing his long, white hair to spill down to hide his face. This did, however, give the two siblings a silken privacy curtain where Crucifel could stare up at him with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes that he was forced to meet. His grimace did its best to shift into a placating smile, but she continued to stare into his soul with her lips pursed to keep from asking any questions just yet.

"There is quite a bit of damage control that you will have to do at this meeting." Morassiel's voice drifted to the far side of the room, followed by an increase in light beyond the barrier of Promethiel's hair as they pulled the curtains fully back. "You may be king and Archangel, Your Majesty, but to threaten a member of the Council is still a grave offense. Your best bet in this will be to put aside your pride and apologize sincerely for your actions."

Crucifel bristled against her brother, eyes widening as she processed what she was hearing. Threatened? He'd done or said something to Zirthil specifically, one of the most placid members of the Council?

She risked leaning forward, sliding her face closer as she glowered questioningly at him.

Promethiel's golden eyes shifted to the side, refusing to meet hers, wings pressing her ruffled ones back down with gentle pats. His mouth was still frozen in a placatory smile, but was regressing steadily back into a wince as he replied to the advisor behind his veil. "Yes, I will be certain to pack in an appropriate amount of groveling. I don't know what came over me, Morassiel...I just want to protect Edenara. To protect everyone, and I feel like I'm failing while being so close to achieving that."

His voice cracked, rasping like sea over sand, but only Crucifel was aware of how it wasn't emotion that weighed his words down, but the discomfort of a squeezed throat. She was almost tempted to finish the job, but remained still beneath the slowly heating cover of Promethiel's wings and blankets.

Morassiel took in a breath, letting it out in a sigh that sounded closer now, perhaps even beside the bed. "You are almost a year into your rule now, Your Grace, and there is still much for you to learn and adjust to. But I beg that you do not make an enemy of the Council, it would be in your best interest to keep them on your side."

Crucifel clenched her jaw when she felt Promethiel's hand press against her lower back, rubbing at the base of her spine soothingly. The warmth of his fingers against her skin might have been a comfort if he hadn't been discussing what sounded disturbingly like an act of near treason.

"You will need their help as you rule," Morassiel continued, "and you'll find that they are more inclined to listen to and guide you if shown proper respect. I can say with great assurance that your pride will only be hurt in the short term by apologizing."

"Of course, Morassiel," Promethiel breathed, nodding his head. "Please, tell the Council that I will be arriving soon. I will also be handling my own morning affairs, so it may take just a little while longer. But to prepare myself for the day, alone and without the aid of servants, will be my first act of humility."

Crucifel bit down on Promethiel's chest, pinching the skin of his left pectoral as she listened to his drivel. The result, unfortunately, was the feeling of his cock twitching excitedly against her belly as he shuddered. When he glanced back to her under the cover of his hair, her face had turned scarlet and she was trying to hold back a snarl, but the way his lips twisted in barely controlled amusement made her own mouth twitch reluctantly.

Unaware of the silent exchange happening beneath the blankets, Morassiel's voice began to move away from the bedside and back toward the door. "I'll let the Council know you're on your way, Your Grace," Morassiel said, then paused. "And, if you would allow me to speak frankly?"

Promethiel nodded, tilting his head to peer at Morassiel through his hair with what Crucifel could only imagine was a look of utter misery. "Please, Morassiel."

"There is no doubt in anyone's mind of how much you love your sister, especially if you are threatening council members over it, " Morassiel said, a note of wry fondness in their tone that didn't outpace the warning. "But this is beyond her, and beyond you. So please, use this meeting as a learning experience, Your Majesty."

With that, the door clicked closed and the two were left in silence.

Crucifel had been ready to pounce upon her brother, to tear off the blanket and maybe his wings with it. But that last comment stopped her in her tracks so utterly that there was no logical or illogical choice but to freeze still, trapped beneath the weight of his wings and the covers that threatened to suffocate her. She was still upset with him, that wasn't going to be swept away so easily, but Crucifel couldn't help but feel strangely...pleased? That he'd caused some sort of stir on her behalf out of that misguided devotion of his.

Promethiel swept back his wings and the blankets, letting cool air kiss her bare skin while he held her stiffly as though his arms refused to obey him as well. His head was turned away from her, golden eyes wide and his face flushed deep red. The king took a shaky breath, rubbing his throat before murmuring softly, "you won't be satisfied until I've told you what happened, will you?"

"I will not," Crucifel confirmed, her expression and voice a deadpan. "It sounds like you had a full night before coming here."

Her brother tried to smile again, but this time nothing was there to stop her as she pressed their foreheads together and stared daggers at him.

"What. Did. You. Do?"

Promethiel's lips were still twitching as he gave her a pleading look, which only made her frustration grow. "Crime of passion, my Beloved?"

She ground their foreheads harder, ignoring the way that his long, white hair tickled her cheeks. "I'll show you a crime of passion if you don't tell me what you did!"

He sighed, turning his eyes away again as he chuckled weakly.

Crucifel didn't move even as he pulled her closer. It was warm, intimate, and she could feel the tension in his body as her breasts pressed against his chest. Even now, he held her like she was something precious and she wanted to scream for the unfairness of it.

"How about this," Promethiel whispered into her ear, voice rumbling in a soothing purr. "Since I have a meeting to get to and you have a morning mass to lead, we meet back here at the end of the day and I'll tell you both what happened last night and at the meeting today."