Chapter Text
Michael sat at the dinner table, staring at his plate, while his twin asked God if he loved them. What a stupid question, hadn't he figured it out yet? All of his antics, from the rebellion to the demons running around the Earth, were hushed up and forgotten, as if nothing had happened. And Uriel's death... They forgot about it, too, as if everyone had forgotten that Lucifer wasn't holy and that this return to Hell for "love" was just a paltry achievement, since he was supposed to stay there from the start.
A dull pain pierced his shoulder and the archangel clenched his teeth, cursing now, because appearing weak in front of his father was the last thing he wanted at the moment. God hadn't given him any worthwhile tasks anyway, except for paperwork and dealing with his brothers and sisters, which was getting boring for the hundredth time from the same words and the same decisions.
And already sitting all hunched over these piles of papers, Michael wondered, why there are no more battles, no training or small skirmishes with at least someone, has his purpose outlived itself so? Have all his purposes outlived themselves so? At first it was his part with creation, which was no longer needed anywhere after the creation of everything, then there was fear, which was immediately a bitter pill, because he could not do anything with it, except to drive everyone away from himself and then a goal appeared where fear was an extension of his hand, his shield and his weapon.
The battles were pleasant, Michael felt free and light when he held the sword and soared through the enemies, getting every hidden fear from his opponents to keep an advantage over everyone. But then even this goal began to outlive itself and first the battle disappeared, and the archangel killed on the orders of God and then even that stopped.
In a way it was good, I didn't want to relive Sodom or the murder of the firstborn, there were no problems with adults, there was a reason to kill them, but with children there was a pang of conscience, because children were the few who could approach him in heaven, and not immediately run away like from a leper. But an order from God is an order and Michael still feels how warm children's blood flows down his hands and drips onto the sand with this disgusting sound. At that moment, his shoulder only reminded him of itself more and the spasms made him tremble and squeeze his fork with his hand like a vice.
- Michael? - God's voice called somehow distantly. The Archangel could not understand how much of the conversation he had missed since the moment he listened, and was not immersed in thoughts, which tied a nervous knot in his lower abdomen.
- Yes, father, - clearing his throat, the dark gaze tore itself away from the plate and rose to the face of the creator.
- You look thoughtful, could thoughts remain after dinner, - the god looked calm, but Michael saw in those eyes that it was not a request at all and that it was necessary to concentrate on this dinner. However, the archangel thought that such a game was not worth the candle, he could listen to what a vile, cowardly and pathetic archangel he was even without Lucifer and Amendiel, who made himself a sick wing and did not deserve to be his father's right hand. He heard all the whispers of his brothers behind his back when he passed them and with each year these voices pressed on his head more and more, that there were thoughts that on a beautiful day the skull would crack and everything would become quiet. The miracle did not happen.
- Of course, I can do it, - answered Michael, finally concentrating again on what was happening around. Not much had changed, but his nose wrinkled on its own as he noticed that Amendiel's man had overdone it with wine and was the only one who could relax in the presence of the god.
- Michael, why are you unhappy about something now? You didn't have to come, - Lucifer glared at his brother, still too angry that his twin had stolen his life and wanted to ruin everything, like a lopsided gremlin.
- And I didn't know that now I shouldn't be invited to family dinners. After all, I wasn't the one who started the riot and didn't turn my nose up at the family like cholera, - the voice sounded in response with pressure and it was clear that the angel of fear was deliberately pulling out the truth at the most inopportune moment, just to cause pain.
The devil let air through his teeth and looked at Michael, sorting through the gears in his head in order to hurt him more in response. Amendiel looked at the twins and then at his father, who didn't get involved in the argument and the elder didn't understand why he was silent, hadn't he gathered them for a quiet dinner and a family reunion? However, he understood that if the two were not stopped, they would again leave new mental scars on themselves. - That's right, because your family turns their noses up at you! Nobody needs you, you just walk around and confuse everyone with your appearance and your fear. Would anyone even talk to you if it weren't for dad, huh? I don't think so, - said the fallen one and looked pleased with his attack, because he knew that the words would go under the skin perfectly, he remembered his twin's weak spots even now.
- Lucifer, - called out Amendiel and looked amazed by such a tirade, yes, it was true in his thoughts, but not at all what could be said at dinner in front of his father.
- And what am I wrong? I'm one hundred percent right, even my demons wouldn't get along with him, - the fallen one proudly turned up his nose and looked at his older brother, showing that no, he would not change his words one bit.
Michael froze from the direct attack and stared ahead, trying to throw these words out of his head. The truth is much more painful to face when it is thrown in your face like that, and the pain from it is completely different from physical pain, something that you can not survive by gritting your teeth and calling yourself a weakling, it is much deeper.
- How dare you, Samael! How dare everyone say such things. I have wasted all my energy and time on this family, and in return I get nothing. Not a drop of fucking respect. Not a single positive word. You could say. Thank you, Michael, for not letting the creatures of chaos kill us! Thank you for doing all the dirty work on Earth! Or, for example, thank you for toiling in heaven like hell. I have not heard anything like this, or have you all forgotten that I do not just scare everyone with my mojo, - Michael rose from his chair and rested his hands on the table, so that his fingers were pale from such force that they were squeezing the unfortunate tree.
And the archangel himself looked truly angry and it was clear that the patience that had lasted for a millennium had snapped with a deafening bang. The anger continued to boil and it was difficult to restrain himself from turning the table over or throwing it at the twin and the temptation was burning too much inside.
Lucifer was not convinced by Michael's words and his menacing pose, believing that he had touched the most painful nerve now and it was fun to watch the reaction.
- Maybe because you did more evil? How is that possible? - the smirk did not leave the devil's face, seeing how the twin was shaking with anger and his face became serious when the pudding flew and Lucifer dodged at the last second so as not to be smeared in dessert.
- This suit is worth more than your miserable life, - the fallen one was indignant because of Michael's childish act of throwing food, but the words did not reach him, because he bit his lips painfully so as not to throw something more dangerous in the direction of his twin.
The desire to do this was very strong, but the black wings opened and carried the archangel away, until he tried to smash Samael's head for real and at the same time not pay attention to the god and his damned orders and words.
- Ah, look how he always ran away like a coward, - Lucifer grinned again, but did not receive a single answer, except for a heavy sigh from the older angel.