King's Rebellion
Sep. 13th, 2019 01:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_rebel_sonThe moment he set foot in Chaos the attacks came. He knew they would. The Fallen sensed the change in his presence just as the angelic had sensed his presence upon Eve in the Garden. Though in the Garden, his presence was a lot less noticeable on the human woman than the angelic presence was on his aura. They had touched spirits, mingled their energies, and the heavenly mark wove through his own essence down to the very core. He could still feel the touch of that angel on his body and his soul, for a lack of a better way to think about his energy and the Grace that had so intimately touched.
Some would not dare confront him, some he could hide it from, a few would openly support him, but the stronger archangels could feel it at a distance. He had been able to hold his own until they started coming in groups, too often to heal completely between assaults. Moloch had taken the chance to raise riot against his rulership, though the arrogant angel took any opportunity to do so, this would be a quite different rebelliousness to quell. He had transgressed against the very black and white dividing line between Host and Fallen. It would not be tolerated by either side of the war. He was the Morningstar, transgressor of all restraints, this was but another manifestation. At least his daughter had understood, and dissolved into rancorous giggles when she learned of his trespass. Both of his children understood and would hold true the rulership in his absence. He trusted them, and many of the Fallen feared them.
Lucifer had cloistered himself in Pandemonium with intent to heal the ever growing number of wounds inflicted by the other Fallen. To transgress was always his way by choice or circumstance, but he was aware of the consequences. Aware and uninterested. Still, as a lord, he knew strife and war were to be avoided, though hard to avoid when one ruled those who willingly rebelled against God himself. The cloistering had a purpose if only to delay because he knew it would not avoid confrontation forever. Still, it had given him the opportunity to speak with his advisor and children, to plan what was to come and how to proceed. In his own realm, within Chaos, Lucifer had a measure of omnipotence that he possessed nowhere else. He knew the clash was coming to his door but pride always overruled his uncertainties in the end.
“Lord Lucifer.”
He had not moved from where he stared out on the blackness of Chaos, even when he heard Moloch's voice. Of all the Fallen, Moloch was the one who challenged Lucifer most. In the past, Lucifer had wondered if the sins of Pride and Arrogance were not more fitting for this archangel than they were for himself. Moloch believed himself more powerful than God, and now in the Abyss, more powerful than Lucifer. Moloch had not even been expelled from Heaven for aiding Lucifer, but for taking up arms against God while Lucifer was being bound and judged. Even in the midst of the rebellion Lucifer would have only put himself as an equal to God, no more powerful. If a place had existed to banish him to the Lord of Hell might have done so. Instead he allowed Moloch to build his own palace, stir up his own rebellious angelic host from the members of the Fallen Angels. Better to let the enemy wave their banners in plain sight than struggle to follow subverted and hidden acts.
“We will speak with you.”
Moloch's voice was full of demands. The sound alone rustled anger in Lucifer. To challenge him, even in voice, within his own palace was a slight that would come with punishment. He reached out listening to the threads of action and motivations that let him see beyond this moment. This was not the first time Moloch and his loyals had chosen to attack Lucifer since he had returned almost two weeks earlier, by human terms in his own Creation. He couldn't be sure how much time had passed in the Nexus. The room hung on the edge of war.
“Fallen Betrayer, you will address us.”
Lucifer spun on those words, wings spreading and alighting with fire. The growl that came was fashioned of wrath, pressed into a maelstrom by his pride. It was a threat to the others who numbered many, perhaps several dozen or more. The weaker willed backed away from the display and exposed their compatriots from whom the war would arise.
“You have consulted with the Host. We see the marks upon you.”
Even in his fit of rising rage, Lucifer smirked at the commentary. Diplomatic liaisons were the accusations. The suggestion was laughable in the face of what he had actually done while outside the bounds of Chaos. The debauchery and taste of Balthazar's lips still caused his heart to flutter wildly when he thought about it, even now with his anger in control. He could only imagine the fury if the Fallen knew. They might fall to complete madness if it was discovered.
“Tell us who has lead you to this betrayal so we can go forth and strike them down.”
Those were the wrong words. Of all the combination of words, in all the languages, that Moloch could have chosen, these were the worst to speak. Lucifer's whole being went to fire as the sin of wrath took hold of his presence and burned away all other considerations. He brandished his power as a threat, a prelude to violence. Angels instinctively averted their eyes. Several of the angels fled in the wake of the change. But Moloch, he drew sword to clash with his king. A moment of hesitation passed through Lucifer. He could kill these archangels without thought but it would do nothing for his station. To humiliate them and send them crawling back to their brethren in shambles was, and had always been, more effective. He would have preferred to rule by other means but the Fallen, most of them anyway, provided few options for alternatives.
Moloch had not moved. He and Lucifer were locked in a competition of presence as the flames spread farther into the room. It wasn't just Lucifer's wrath that was brought to bear but the whole cocktail of sins and virtues. The King was charging up his inner strength like Godzilla about to blast Tokyo. The other angels stood aside afraid of the energy coursing through the Seraphim. The brightness blinding, and the fire arching over the Fallen Angel as scorching as the pit of fire itself. Too often had they seen this battle and some had learned to interfere in it lead to pain and crippling injuries. It was rare in the conflict between the two angels for Lucifer to bear his presence in threat. Most had never seen Lucifer this infuriated and simply stood in awe of the display. Moloch would move soon, Lucifer could sense it in the air currents.
A heartbeat and then a sword flashed. Lucifer grabbed Moloch's sword arm, twisting it to force the other angel to release his weapon, bones snapped in his arm. Moloch cried out as joints were rendered with the force. The sword clattered to the ground but Moloch had taken hold of the flaming wings, ripping a handful of feathers free. It was the utmost insult in Chaos. To damage wings was the action of God and a show of utter contempt. It was an intolerable affront to Lucifer's pride and crown. Moloch had grabbed a second hand full as Lucifer threw him across the room. More ripped free, burning feathers raining down in the room like volcanic ash. Moloch slammed into the wall with such force his wings shattered and his essence reverberated with the impact. Flames burned the angel that would rebel against his king, leaving Moloch to flee midst agonizing screams.
The others fell upon Lucifer choosing to burn themselves in battle rather than relent. Even in his wrath, thirty or more to one gave some opportunity and advantage to the others. He had been speared by one of the angels. Which, it did not matter. They were ripping out his flight feathers and sought to damage his wings. A grounded angel was vulnerable and took out much of his maneuverability. It was an attack on his person and pride. He cast them aside, many crawling from his presence, a broken wreckage of what had entered the space.
“Out!” a voice bellowed above the din of clashing angels. “Out! Before you are laid to ash and ruin.”
The angels obeyed, if only because they were forced to in their mind. Like rats, they scurried from the room, most wounded but they would heal over time. Free of his aggressors Lucifer assessed his own wounds as he tore the spear free from his shoulder. In the depth of rage he felt no pain and heard nothing but the sound of fire. He felt weary from the injuries and constant need to heal, but the King was still incredibly dangerous.
“Lucifer.” the word came gently once the angels loyal to Moloch were driven from Pandemonium by the guards. Belial stayed at the door, wise enough to refrain from any action. “Lord?”
Belial waited patiently for acknowledgment. His senses were fixed on the feathers strewn about the room. They had taken enough that it might impede his King's ability to fly. His mind drifted to the King, all the flight feathers were gone and one wing lay ragged. There would be no flight possible now. He mused that the other angels were lucky to be anything other than ciders. However, the fact they had not been consumed by fire told the counselor much about his Lord's disposition.
The fire was slowly dying away and Belial stepped into the room without hesitation. In the face of Lucifer's wrath it was important to show no fear and tread lightly with your words. Belial knew what had happened between Lucifer and the heavenly host but he had not pried. The depth of it had caused emotional outbursts that he knew better than provoke. Here it seemed to be laid out again, something that drove this kind of fury was not a petty squabble, brief discussion, or even a one time fling. Belial could see the rebellion, the wrath in full blossom as when Lucifer raised war against God. The advisor could trust his Lord to speak when needed but he was curious about the reason so much fire was levied against Moloch. Lucifer clashed with the other angel enough that it seemed common place and barely an incident. This, this was an incident to find Lucifer in his full, terrifying glory.
Instead of talking he approached and did what none other in Hell, except for the twin heirs, would do. He reached up and brushed blood soaked hair from Lucifer's face. The fires were still scorching but Belial had spent eons with Lucifer. He could judge the Seraphim's power with ample wisdom.
“They will return. Moloch is convinced you have weakened.” He spoke soothingly to the enraged angel but also used his mental abilities to calm the fires and wrath. When Belial had been blinded by God for rebellion, Lucifer had granted him the ability to see with his mind as clearly as others might with their eyes. It was a gift, one of many Lucifer had bestowed upon him since his creation.
“He will never learn the lessons the others have.” Lucifer admitted to his advisor in a low growl.
“It does seem he is destined to remain your adversary.” Belial felt the fires die away and the control reassert itself. It was safe to speak. “The Fallen say you are consulting with the Host of Heaven, that you may seek a truce.”
Lucifer gazed at his companion while feeling his mind reaching out. He did not resist. The Lord of Hell trusted Belial implicitly. Since his creation, Belial had been at his side. Once it was in the awe of creation and now as his reason and eyes in the greater brood of Fallen. Lucifer smirked proudly as he felt Belial's mind come in contact with his, searching for the memories of Balthazar.
“What need is there to speak with...” Belial's words trailed off to silence but the silence was quickly filled with a high, full laugh from Lucifer.
Belial collected himself and wiped the blood away from Lucifer's face with the sleeve of his robes. He had not expected to find affection or love in the midst of the memories about the angel his lord had met. Though, from his encounter with the angel, he had expected the desire and sex. The outbursts made sense now. Belial had been there to know how Lucifer behaved when he was charmed by someone else. “That's not the type of meeting they believe you are engaged in.”
Lucifer appreciated Belial's lack of expectations and his utter acceptance. It was Belial alone that Lucifer regretted being mangled by the hand of God after the Rebellion was quelled. He had been grace, humanity, and dignity. Even Fallen, Belial was the most humane and diplomatic of the angels and had never lost his desire to see what sprang new in creation.
Lucifer could not hide from this angel, had never chosen to keep him out. “They will come to confront me no matter my choices.”
Belial nodded his assent to the claim before embracing the Seraphim. Lucifer returned the gesture as a father would to a concerned son. The younger archangel buried himself in the warmth of his friend, ignoring the blood soaking into his garments. “If any could enact such transgression and rebellion against the whole of the Host and Fallen, it would be no other.”
Lucifer chuckled but he could feel the disquiet within the other angel who went on speaking. “You need to heal. It would be prudent of you to spend that time outside their reach. Thnísko, Amartolósa, and I can tend to their brash foolishness.”
He was going to protest but the other angel interrupted, something very few angels would dream of doing. “I will tell them you are within the realms. Let them search in vain while you recover.”
It was a wise plan in the face of his injuries. He would not need long if he were not constantly harried by opponents. He needed to get back to full strength in order to reassert his rulership and rouse the other fallen to turn on their brethren for challenging his position. Sighing heavily he released the embrace and nodded in agreement. Belial and his children could manage for a time, time enough to recover.
He would need his son to safely make it to the Gates of Chaos. The angels had enacted their purpose. His left wing broken in multiple places and his flight feathers torn out, the Fallen Angel was grounded and unable to fly, and too spiritually exhausted to heal more damage. Lucifer sought his son. Thnisko waited for him with Azazael, his standard bearer. Azazael had been a child by angel standards when he had stood with Lucifer in the rebellion. He had been loyal unto sacrifice since Lucifer waded back into the fires of Chaos to free him when he could not break his bonds. Death was feared by the other angels, especially with Lucifer's presence, even as broken as his current state. As two seraphim rooted in destructive powers, together they could obliterate any angel that might bar their way. It gave them rather free passage to the gates of Hell. Lucifer exited and Death locked the gates. Azazael took up post outside the gate to guard against the Seraphim who might make designs on Chaos if they knew the king was injured or long absent. They would not open the gates unless Lucifer spoke.
He was a pariah of the Host and now, more than ever, a target. The host could potentially see his transgression as a more serious sin against order than the Fallen had. When he was seen as corrupting a human they had tortured him and bound him to the fires again. What they would do in retaliation for corrupting an angel, he could not discern. He could not stay here, in his own creation, and so departed for the Nexus. Even there he would not be able to stay. He would have to return to Chaos and deal with the Fallen before long.
By the time he reached the Nexus, Lucifer's head was spinning from exhaustion and injury. His armor, though technically weightless, felt incredibly heavy. Even a being of his age and power could only endure so much before their conscious waned. He would not die, but passing out in the open wasn't an option. Angels of his own creation could follow and find him incapacitated. He needed to find Balthazar, if he was even here and not within his own creation.
Vague memories existed of the apartment, somewhere. Weakly, Lucifer reached out getting a bearing on the imprints left by the other angel. He could feel the river and smiled to himself as he started walking a different direction, another condensed feeling of his presence. He hoped it was the apartment or, at least, where ever the angel stood now.
He moved slowly and recollected at least one instance of coming around on the ground after passing out. Still, with determination and time he found the penthouse door. The Fallen Angel was barely holding himself upright as he leaned on the door frame. He had intended to just knock but it turned to a slamming of his fist on the door as he fought to keep balance. There were wounds everywhere, some were already healed to fading scars and others still bled freely. Blood was running down his left arm and dripping from various points on his wings where feathers had been torn free. Blood smeared the door where he had knocked and pooled at his feet. Even his essence was dull from the burnout of constant healing and battle. Lucifer called out to the other angel but he couldn't tell if it was voice, or his spirit, or just in his mind. He was too weak to tell the difference. His own angels, the Fallen, could sense his presence even without a call, would come to him. Maybe the same would be true for this angel. Will alone kept Lucifer from falling into unconsciousness. All he could do was hope Balthazar was inside.
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Date: 2019-10-24 04:29 pm (UTC)It was possible. Sin was incredibly loyal to her family despite her wilder side. Then he pauses thinking it over and adds hastily. "She can be physically affectionate, a lot sometimes, but her eyes are elsewhere. Even if they weren't I don't think anything would be more than friendly."
Azazael nods in agreement drinking more cocoa. "In Chaos, almost everything is burning. I think the air might even be too hot for a human."
"I'm used to other angels being jumpy around me and the court. Even the other seraphim tread light around us because Lucifer won't hesitate to fight with them." He was resigned to the idea and really appreciated the protection. As a young, and weaker angel, that worry had saved his skin more than once.
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Date: 2019-10-28 11:51 am (UTC)His cup is empty, and he spends a moment considering whether he wants to make more, before deciding against it and getting up. It takes a flicker of Grace to cleanse it completely (why do dishes when you can just will things clean?), and he tucks the mug back in the cabinet from whence it came.
"Well, I'm glad you've got protection, at least. You seem very sweet. You're certainly welcome to visit me again whenever you like, as long as you've got his permission."
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Date: 2019-10-29 03:07 am (UTC)"It's your protection too." The comment about his sweetness brings a fire red blush to his cheeks. "I'm allowed to come and go whenever I am called. I'll come back when the King's healed if I don't hear from either of you before then."