Under the Volcano (Mythklok, Chapter 24)
Title: Under the Volcano (Mythklok, Chapter 24)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bickering angels and a duel
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking. Just a general FYI, these next few chapters are going to be kinda dark.
Notes: This is part 4 of a 6 chapter sequence I’m calling the Volcano Arc. More notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to capslokdethklok.
OK, kids, ready for more?
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal, tikific, where you are welcome to come poke it with a pointed stick. I've also written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.
A quick recap: somebody died, and Skwisgaar is desperately trying to find out whodunit. Shiva got his war, but nobody’s terribly happy about it. Charles has been trying to hide in his office, but keeps getting interrupted by a bunch of supernatural beings and death metal musicians. Wotan figured out that the angels don’t have the four guys they need to cast their super powerful spell, but that may not be enough to help Our Heroes, with the entire Legion staring down their throats.
Under the Volcano (Mythklok, Chapter 24)
One hour ago....
The Pink Cadillac was heading to Valhalla, William Murderface at the wheel, carrying a carpool of angels.
Well, angels, plus a very hung over Nathan Explosion,
"Pele dumped Surtr's ass last night, so I took the dude OUT DRINKING," he moaned, managing to worsen his headache with his own growling.
"They seem to have a volatile relationship," Raziel observed, hanging over the back of the seat to chat with him.
"They're both VOLCANO PEOPLE. Whaddya expect? Owwww, my head,"
"Juscht tell me if you're going to vomit, asch I will pull to the schide."
"No time for that, William. Here we are." And Ofdensen had leapt from his seat before they had even stopped.
"Pleasche wait until the car hasch come to a complete schtop!" Murderface protested.
Sitting beside him, Dick Knubbler smiled. "Safety first, baby!"
Ofdensen and Raziel were already standing in front of Lucifer, who was still pinned to a rock, impaled by Wotan's spear.
"I have a proposal," Ofdensen told him.
"I think you have about 20 minutes before every soul you know is wiped out by the Legion," Satan laughed.
"Maybe. Maybe not. Nathan can read the Book."
"So can I. So can you. I just can't make fucking sense of it. You have a lot to learn of the workings of a clear narrative, Lady Raziel. Now, a real writer-“
"Bite me," the little angel snorted.
"Nathan's figured out a few things. And, they don't know how much we know," Ofdensen told him. "The Book talks about some feat that can only be performed by four angels with earth powers. We need a fourth."
"You need a fourth angel to do what exactly?"
"Absolutely no fucking idea."
Lucifer paused, impressed. "You're going to bluff the Legion?"
"Fucking A," said Raziel. "Are you in?"
"Fucking A indeed, "Lucifer commented, pulling uselessly on the spear. "I'm sorry to be crass, but,” Satan’s good eye narrowed, “what's in it for me?"
"You'll get my husband's spear outta your gut, for one thing," Raziel pointed out.
"And if we pull this off, we might be more favorably inclined towards you," Ofdensen told him.
"What does that mean?" Lucifer inquired.
"I'm a lawyer. It doesn't mean anything."
"Fucking lawyers. Worse than me."
“Look, Lucifer,” Ofdensen told him. “We don’t have much time. Now, you wanna fuck with Michael or not?”
“OK,” Lucifer agreed. “You have appealed to my sentimentality. Now, are we going to need Lord Wotan to…” he nodded at the spear. Raziel unceremoniously strode over and, one-handed, yanked Gungnir out of the rock.
“Holy fuck,” said Lucifer.
Raziel made the “I have my eyes on you gesture” at Lucifer, and, gripping the spear headed towards the Pink Cadillac.
“You!” Ofdensen told Lucifer, who was rubbing his ample gut. “You sit in back with Nathan.”
The gold-winged angel made to join the lead singer, who hadn’t left the back seat during the entire conversation.
“I’m fucking HUNG OVER,” Nathan announced. “I may spew!”
“Oh. Great,” said Lucifer as Murderface put the car in gear.
Right now….
Skwisgaar had been right, the residence was actually within walking distance. Real walking distance. But Pickles had taken them right inside, to the guy’s living room.
Lord Skanda was sitting on the couch, a blonde, who appeared to be a goddess, at his feet. He looked up as Skwisgaar dropped the architectural drawings in his lap.
Pickles and Skwisgaar stood over him, both frowning. “What you ams knows about dese?” Skwisgaar asked.
Skanda leapt off the couch, sending the papers sliding off his lap. The blonde who had been sitting at his feet scowled at them, annoyed. Pickles regarded her. She looked familiar.
“Nothing. I know nothing," Skanda protested.
“Dood! Yer magic stuff is all over ‘em.”
“Maybe we ams takes you to Shivas. And he ams decides.”
“No. No. Not my father. Please.” Skanda looked into their eyes, panicked.
"You don't need to tell them anything!" the blonde told Skanda.
"Sigyn, what ams you doings here anyway?" Skwisgaar asked her, an exasperated tone in his voice.
"Oh, what the fuck do you think I'm doing here, Odinsson?"
"You ams making da bads relationship choice!" Skwisgaar told her wagging a finger.
"You said they wouldn't find out," Skanda whined to Sigyn.
"They can't do anything to you now," Sigyn told him, rising to twine her arm around his. "You know that."
“Husband, what have you done this time?” Pickles and Skwisgaar glanced back to the doorway. An angry goddess, Devasena, stood there, wiping her hands on her apron.
“What I have done, I have only tried to provide for you, my wife.”
"And how will bringing the Eastern Kingdom to warfare and bankruptcy provide for any of us?"
"You don't deserve him! You don't deserve Skanda," Sigyn told Devasena.
Devasena sighed. "I'm beginning to think you're right about that. You know, Lady Parvati requested our aid. All the years I have been in my mother in law's circle, and I alone could not hold my head high and join her."
"Stick to your knitting, bitch," Sigyn told her. She grabbed Skanda's arm, and dragged him out of the room.
“I shoulda given dat dood a drumstick lobotomy when I hadda chance,” Pickles grumbled.
Devasena studied the death metal musicians in her living room. “I have something. I think you will be able to use it. Skanda gave it to me, weeks ago. But I knew. I think I knew such things would come to pass.” She turned and headed for another room.
Pickles and Skwisgaar looked at each other, and Skwisgaar hastened after her. "And what ams your names, my goddess."
She told him.
"Why you ams stay with dat dude, anyway?" Skwisgaar was asking. "You ams one lovely lady!"
Pickles knew he should tell Skwisgaar to cool it, but this was the first time in so long he had felt like laughing out loud, he simply grinned and followed.
“Four angels?” laughed Raphael. “Two of you clowns are Fallen."
“I fucking hate clowns,” Nathan rumbled.
And that one,” Raphael pointed to Samael, “is barely even an angel.”
Murderface, who had quietly driven up in the Pink Cadillac, bristled and fingered his Glock.
"And.... And.... A HUMAN?" Raphael snorted.
“Nathan!” Sariel yelled back to the singer. “They wanna hear your new song.”
Nathan began to growl in High Angelic.
“Stop that!” Michael yelled. “STOP THAT! THIS INSTANT! SARIEL!”
“Hey, dat ams pretty good, actually,” Toki, who had moved nearer the front to hear, told Murderface.
“Brutal,” agreed Murderface, still scowling at Raphael.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Michael told Sariel. “You could kill us all.”
“Michael, quit being such a fucking pussy,” Raphael snapped.
“Silence!” Michael told him.
“You can’t even keep your own aides in line, Michael?” Wotan asked.
“I’m not his aide!” Raphael snorted.
“Michael,” Gabriel said pleasantly, “perhaps the burdens of leadership have fatigued you.”
“My manpower is precious!” It was Phanuel, the Grey angel, speaking for the first time. “Quit bickering like a bunch of old ladies. Do we advance, or do we retreat? Speak, Michael.”
But Michael was nearly knocked over by Pickles and Skwisgaar, who had suddenly appeared in the middle of the field.
“Whoa,” said Pickles. “Sorry, big dood.” Michael glowered, but Pickles ignored him. “Hey,” the drummer shouted. “We found da dood who killed Gannish! It was an angel! He used da Nephilim!"
There was silence.
Pickles leaned over to Skwisgaaar. “Uh. Dood. Yoo need t’ doo yer stuff.”
Skwisgaar blinked, disoriented. He frowned and clutched the bag he was holding - the bag Devasena had given him, along with her telephone number - carefully studying the magic. Then he looked around, praying the angel in question was near the front of the pack.
He didn’t have to look far.
He pointed.
“RAPHAEL!” Michael shouted.
Shiva advanced on the angel Raphael, holding several blades at the ready.
“Goodness, I didn’t know anything about this kerfluffle,” Garbiel tutted.
“Kerfluffle?” Nathan asked. “Even for an angel, that dude is a douche.”
“Explain yourself, angel” Wotan insisted.
“Some of us,” Raphael explained, eyeing Michael, “have had enough with the endless waiting. We felt a little provocation was in order.” He grinned.
Michael was looking directly at Shiva. “I knew nothing of this. Nothing. This I swear to you, Lord Shiva.”
“You cannot control your murderous underlings? It is you who deserve to die,” Shiva spat at Michael. "I will have your head, angel."
"Goodness, Michael, we cannot hear that kind of talk from puny earth gods," tutted Gabriel. "It must be answered!"
"They have Four," Michael fretted. "The consequences...."
"Tsk! Sariel is bluffing!" Gabriel told him. "It is time to lead the Legion, or step aside, for one who can!"
"OK, fuck this angel shit," Sariel growled. He grabbed the sack from Skwisgaar’s hands and tossed it at Raphael. Something rolled out. A silver coin. It rattled on the floor a small distance, and then finally came to rest a few inches from the Archangel Raphael's feet.
"I challenge you," Sariel whispered to him. "By right of Blood Feud."
"Hiding behind Raziel's skirt?” Raphael grinned. “Just like old times."
“No. Just me and you,” Sariel told him.
“Sariel, cease your nonsense. You can’t fight him,” Gabriel said primly. “You are not of the same rank.”
“I’m not of any fucking rank,” Sariel said, not taking his eyes from Raphael. "I'm Fallen, asshole."
“I can just slice him like this,” Raphael boasted, holding out his arms. “In Court Form. When I kill his Court Form, the rest will swiftly follow."
“Raphael! Consider wisely! The rules of Blood Feud do not apply! Lord Ganesh was not a human,” Gabriel huffed.
“I swore Ganesh my vengeance,” Sariel said. “Before he died. Before you had him murdered. Murdered by a bunch of fucking monsters. Because you were too much of a pussy to meet him eye to eye." Raphael’s eyes narrowed. That one had stung.
"I would fight this one," Raphael sneered. "'Tis my honor."
"Raphael!" Gabriel suddenly seemed a bit less effusive.
“Michael, you must decide here,” Phanuel ordered. "And quickly."
Michael looked between Gabriel and Raphael. There may have been a slight smile on his face. “All right. You may have your duel," he told Raphael.
"Raphael! No!" said Gabriel.
“Since you challenged me,” Raphael grinned at Sariel, “I will choose the weaponry.” He already held in his hands two katana.
“Then I will choose the venue," Sariel told him. "My home. Mordland. We meet in 10 minutes.” Sariel turned and started to walk away. He nodded at Raziel, who, after quickly squeezing Wotan’s hand, hastened after him.
They appeared in the gardens at Mordland, beneath the new volcano. “He fights with two blades,” Raziel said quickly and quietly. She was aready holding two katana out for Sariel. "Very fast. Right handed, but ambidextrous in practice. Right hand and arm stronger, and tends to lead with right.”
“You know what I wish?” Ofdensen sighed. He had turned back to his silvery haired Court Form, and he suddenly looked old. “I really wish I was actually a good enough swordsman to use any of this information.”
“Weak peripheral vision. And being a Seraph, he's too fucking stupid to turn his head. Oh, and you probably have better night vision."
"Well. That will be useful if we're still fighting at sundown," Ofdensen grumbled. He took the blades and carefully looked them over.
“He’s good.” Raziel was looking over to where Raphael was quietly consulting with Phanuel. She gawped for a while, wondering why he hadn't chosen Gabriel as his second. Phanuel suddenly looked over at Raziel, inquisitive, so she scowled at him and turned away. “Really good. I almost lost to him myself.”
"Perfect."
She glared at Ofdensen. "He's an angel. Usual angel prejudices. Get into his head."
"There's information that's useful to have." He smiled grimly. He grabbed her arm. “You must promise me…. If anything happens….”
“By my life. By my death. Asgard will defend Dethklok. But you will not fail." She leaned closer, whispering. "For Ganesh, you must not fail."
He suddenly pulled her close, so his forehead was touching hers. He squeezed his eyes shut, and looked as if he was concentrating very hard. She pulled back slightly, blinking. She looked into his eyes, making certain he saw her nod.
He walked over to where Raphael was already waiting, grinning.
They crossed swords.
You could tell the duelists were not human, as they moved faster than any human swordsmen, including the most highly experienced martial artists.
Raziel was right, Ofdensen thought. This guy was good. Too good. He was spending his time avoiding being killed. He ducked away, out of Raphael's reach.
"Are we dueling or dancing, little Fallen?" Raphael scoffed. "I knew there was a reason you always had Raziel do your dirty work."
"At least I didn't have to resort to using Nephilim."
"My pets got the job done."
"But why Ganesh?"
"You haven't figured that one out? I thought you were supposed to be smart."
"On the other hand, I always knew you were an idiot."
"For years, we've waited to move on you. But Michael and that idiot Uriah always wanted us to wait. Wait for what? Now, Uriah is gone, and we still can't get Michael to move.
"So you killed Ganesh?"
"It was the most brilliant move of my career. In one blow, I have crippled the Eastern Empire, and The Dethklok."
"You know, Mr. Brilliant, it's not 'The Dethklok.' You sound tragically uncool."
"You sound like a dead man," Raphael rejoindered.
"You wanted to goad us into war?" Ofdensen ducked as Raphael nearly took his head off. He felt the swoosh of the blade going by. "Then haven't you fucked yourself by accepting my challenge?"
"War will go on after I finish you. If nothing else, Lady Raziel will insist Asgard join."
"Raziel is too smart for that."
Raphael roared with laughter. "I believe this is the first time anyone has ever constructed a sentence using both the words 'Raziel' and 'smart.'"
"But what if I kill you? Then you're kinda fucked, huh?"
"You will never best me."
"But, you didn't account for all your outcomes. That's not being a strategic thinker. See, this is why I am rich and powerful, and you're stuck sucking Gabriel's dick." It was an old taunt, but it never failed. Raphael answered with some powerful but clumsy blows.
Ofdensen feinted, and then retreated once again out of Raphael’s reach, muttering, “Fuck this shit.” He tossed away the katana and drew Vulcan’s sword instead. He barely had time to power it up before Raphael was upon him again.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Fallen? Already admitting defeat?” Raphael chuckled.
Ofdensen grunted. It was fucking difficult keeping away two fucking swords with only one. But he just needed to get this right once.
“What? You in a hurry to get back and suck off Honored Kerfluffle?” Ofdensen asked. That did it. Those guys never changed. Raphael responded with another furious but sloppy rain of blows. Ofdensen took a single step back and struck. One of Raphael’s blades was cut cleanly in half by his white hot blade.
Ofdensen cried out in pain. Raphael had spun, and had managed to rip into Ofdensen's thigh with his half blade. Ofdensen True Formed, and began to whip his wings in the air.
“You said Court Form!” Raphael screamed after him.
“YOU said Court Form,” Sariel taunted. Raphael cursed and tossed his broken blade aside. As quickly as he could, which was none to quickly, he changed to his hulking Seraph Form, beating his wings after Sariel, who was already disappearing into the volcano's cone.
The Seraph angrily tarried on the rim. "Fuck those fucking lawyers," he muttered. He saw Sariel’s blood where it had dripped. He smiled, changed back to his smaller Court Form, and entered the tunnels, sniffing for blood like a predator.
He didn’t see the flash in his peripheral vision, and they crossed swords, and then the smaller angel had vanished up the tunnels again. Raphael could barely see, and the now Court Formed opponent hid easily in the dark. Ofdensen was clearly weakened by the wound, but it was frustrating.
Another attack from nowhere. "I suppose you think you are better than my Nephilim?" Raphael asked him.
"Dunno about that, but I'm pretty fucking sure I'm better than you."
"You are misshapen things, you New Ones. And you most of all, the first."
"The what?" Ofdensen actually paused, though well out of Raphael's sword length.
"You were the template. Didn't you know that?"
Ofdensen frowned. He's trying to get into my head. He struck, and then retreated again, further down into the network of tunnels.
Raphael followed he bloodstained ground, was attacked, and then once again he was alone. It was all right. He crouched down, dabbing a bit of Sariels blood on his fingers. He would wear down Sariel. Even with one sword, in the dark, the weak Fallen was no match for him.
He turned down another corridor. Once again, he was blind sided. It was growing hotter.
"Are you getting tired, Fallen?"
"Bored, more like it. I think I might stop for a smoke." And then he was gone.
Raphael sighted the blood trail again. There was more now. The heart was beating faster, and the bleeding had increased.
Raphael rounded the corner, to a larger, well-lit chamber.
Ofdensen was sitting on the floor, cigarette to his lips, match raised. Blood was already pooling near his leg.
“Any last words, freak?” Raphael grinned, flourishing his sword.
Sariel thumbed a match. "I declare this volcano ... open," he said, flinging his cigarette with deadly accuracy towards Surtr's control chamber.
There was heat. Incredible heat. And fire.
Ofdensen's chest was caught in a vise. Was this what it was like having a heart attack?
And then he was sitting outside, in the gardens at Mordland once again, Raziel's arms encircling him with all her great strength.
They sat a moment, breathing in sync, watching the new volcano erupt.
“You can let me go, you know. You’re gonna break a rib.” She relaxed her grip somewhat, though not all the way.
“Pulled through a fucking mountain, Raziel. How the fuck do you do that?” He shrugged free of her and painfully stood up. Pele’s bright orange lava had already begun oozing from the top of the cone.
“I didn’t think you were going to call,” Raziel said, standing beside him. “I got scared.”
“I almost…. It doesn’t matter. Anyway.”
“What happened to your leg?”
“It’s fine. It made it easy luring him in deeper.” He frowned, but not from the pain. "He said something strange to me in there. He said I was the first made of the New Ones, not the last."
Raziel shook her head.
"Lucifer said something like that as well, when we caught him in Asgard," he told her.
"I suppose you can ask Lucifer. But you and I both know how much value to put on his answer."
He nodded. "You don't know anything about this?"
"I wasn't around Headquarters much those days. You know how I hated it."
"Yeah, it was not a good place."
“You used the sword?”
He held it up. “Vighnesha, Vighneshvara.”
“You know, his people. They come back. It’s what they do.”
“Yeah,” he said, eying the sword. “In a year. Or a thousand. Or ten thousand. He told me about it, once. Or, they don’t come back at all, if they were good. And you know, he was good.”
She found she had nothing to say to this. She encircled his waist with one arm and, for once, he didn’t protest, and they walked together back to the battlefield.
Two gods stood arm in arm, watching the volcano.
"It issssssbasssssed beautiful, like you, my ssssssweet!" Surtr told her.
"Dis is my best work yet," Pele agreed. "We one badass team, yeah?"
"Badasssssss."
The two returning angels didn’t need to say anything. The death of an Archangel is no quiet matter. The angels were together, Phanuel frowning as he talked to them, Michael with a look of terrible sadness, and Gabriel with an expression that was impossible to read.
Wotan quietly pulled Raziel aside. “You didn’t save the head this time did you, dearest?” he whispered.
“Sorry dear,” she told him, smiling.
“Damn. But I’m seeing a couple of others I’d like for my collection.” They looked over to where the angels were assembled. With a final nod from Michael, Phanuel impatiently went to consult with his angelic troops. The Seraph soldiers began to fly away. Michael and Gabriel spoke not a word after Phanuel departed them, but, glaring furiously at one another, finally disappeared.
“Do you think there will be another War of Heaven?” Raziel whispered to Wotan.
“I’m pretty sure about that.” Shiva had approached them, and held out one of his arms. Wotan completely ignored the gesture, and pulled the blue god into an embrace. Breaking the hug after a time, Shiva gripped his friend's arms with all four hands, nodded sadly, and, joining hands with Lady Parvati, began to lead off his troops.
William Murderface had pulled up the Pink Caddy, and Ofdensen was already sitting down inside, his leg propped up. Dick Knubbler was winding what appeared to be a piece of linen cloth around it. “Don’t bleed too musch on the scheat, Ofdenschen,” Murderface called back irritably.
“I need a drink,” said Ofdensen.
“You need a fucking hospital,” Raziel told him.
"Don't worry, Razzy baby! I been in the entertainment business a long time, baby, yeah," Knubbler was saying as he expertly cut the bandage. "You pick up stuff, yeah."
"Bandaging sword wounds?" Raziel asked, disbelieving, as Knubbler finished and hopped back in the front beside Murderface.
“We ams takes cares of hims,” Skwisgaar told her quietly, gripping her shoulder as he made for the car.
“Where are we goin’?” Murderface called back, one arm loosely around a grinning Knubbler’s shoulders.
“I don’t know. ANYWHERE. I’m fucking PARCHED!” Nathan grumbled from the back.
“I thought you were hung over?” Ofdensen asked him.
“Yeah, that too. HEY LUCIFER!” The golden-winged angel moved closer to the car. “ARE YOU FUCKING COMING?”
“Uh,” Lucifer said, uncertainly. “You wish me to come with you?"
“Goin’ drinkin’ wit’ da devil?” Pickles mused, sliding in next to Ofdensen.
“OH FUCK YEAH. TOOOKIII!” The guitarist, having sent his goddesses off with their parents, hastened towards the car. “Dethklok is going DRINKING WITH SATAN!” Toki grinned and jumped inside, and, with several cries of, “Fuck, yeah,” Murderface put the car in gear and roared off with his mad crew to strip clubs yet unknown.
Wotan, having seen off his troops, came to stand by where Raziel was watching the car depart.
"Personally, I think Lucifer would make an excellent sixth member of Dethklok," Wotan laughed. He looked down to the strangely quiet Raziel. “It’s been a great comfort, having your companionship, Lady,” he told her. She squeezed his hand very tightly.
“What is the matter?” Wotan asked.
“I did something terrible,” she told him.
“I certainly doubt that.”
She shook her head. “Before the duel? I told Sariel, if he didn’t survive, Asgard would protect Dethklok.”
“That was the right and honorable thing to do.”
“No! Wotan. I took away his purpose. You don’t understand. We're not like you. He’s had his vengeance. Now, he doesn’t have anything left.”
Wotan looked at her, stroking her hair. “The heart can endure many heavy blows.”
“Not him,” she said sadly. “He’s not like you.”
"King Wotan." The couple looked behind them. The Grey Seraph who headed the Legion troops had remained behind.
The Seraph bowed formally. "I am Phanuel. I am sorry that we were fated to meet under such circumstances."
"Honored Phanuel," Wotan said, nodding. Unlike most all Court Formed Seraphim, who tended to be big as rhinos, Phanuel was nearly human-sized, so Wotan could easily look him in the eye. "And I assume you know my queen, Raziel," the king added.
Phanuel gazed at Raziel for a moment, seemingly speechless. Then he hurriedly said, "Of course. Majesty." And bowed.
"Honored Brother Phanuel," Raziel said curiously.
"I must depart now. I wish peace to you both." And with that, Phanuel winged off with the last of his troops.
"That was weird," Raziel mused. "I mean, considering he was gonna kill us a couple minutes ago."
Wotan kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go home.” And they mounted onto Sleipnir's broad back, and rode off into the sky.
"That's impressive," Wotan commented, watching Pickles and Skwisgaar appear in Valhalla's front courtyard. "You realize, Pickles, that there are few humans who can manage that trick?"
Pickles shrugged, trying to act casual as he was being mobbed by two giant wolves and a tiger.
"Yeah, and he ams not yanks me around, like Lady Raziel," Skwisgaar added.
Wotan laughed. "I've told her to be careful. My girl doesn't know her own strength." The king bade them enter, and they walked the vast hallways of Valhalla for a time, until they came to a large, comfortable sitting room, where they sat in overstuffed chairs beside a warm fire. The animals nosed around for a while and then collapsed into furry mounds.
"I had a couple of reasons for asking you boys up here today," Wotan said, passing out Scotch.
"Is, uh, Charles not comin'?" Pickles asked.
"No. Not right now. And that brings up a point. It seems when my Lady was acting as second during his duel, she promised Asgard's protection to you. Now," he appeared to be studying his glass, "I doubt it's ever going to come about that such a thing would be required, especially while that man is alive...." He trailed off. "But, if you have any need, we are here, the queen and I."
"Dood, yanno, dere may be need," Pickles moped. "We gotta lotta enemies."
"So does any man with merit. Even young Ganesh, who never had a selfish thought towards anyone."
"What ams happens wit' Skanda?" asked Skwisgaar, staring moodily into the fire. "Ands Sigyns?"
Wotan looked pained. "Well, that's an unfortunate matter." He sipped his whiskey, and then glared at his glass. He set it down on a low table, and thought for a moment. "Lord Shiva, due to ancient tradition, requires an heir. He's lost one son, so Skanda is it, at the moment."
"But Skanda...." Pickles began.
"He doesn't deserve his freedom. Yes. He is being watched. Along with Sigyn. But, that's all as can be done for now."
"So, dood, can't we jist kill him an' get Gannish back?"
"Would that it were so simple," Wotan said, smiling ruefully. "Even if such a thing were to occur, there is no guarantee we would see Ganesh again, or perhaps not for a long time. Their afterlife is said to be bureaucratic nightmare, for one."
"Dere's paperwork shit in da afterlife?" Pickles protested.
Wotan shrugged. "It's not, as they say, my department."
"Dat sucks,dood."
"The most tragic thing is that, by his actions, Skanda may have precipitated another War in Heaven."
"Pfft. Dose angels can goes kill each others," Skwisgaar snorted.
"Trouble is, it may make it more dangerous for all of us," the king observed. "Now, Pickles, as far as you know, we are the only ones who know about Aaron?"
"Yeh. An' I didn't even wanna let anyone else know. I know dat kinda messed stuff up."
"Not at all, this was the wise and honorable course. Though, t'would probably be for the best if we kept it just between us for now. We might let Grandma know, if that would be acceptable to you?"
"I t'ink Lady Raz wants t' visit. I t'ink she wants t' hug him a lot, or some shit."
Wotan laughed. "Well, there's probably not much harm in that. You see she doesn't spoil him overmuch. Before we know it, she'll have him dressed in a school uniform and speaking French!"
Raziel alit on the outcropping, curiously watching Sariel. He was sitting, wings out, smoking a cigarette.
"Where do you even carry those things when you're True Formed?"
"Why does it matter to you?"
"It's cold up here. You'll catch your death, without a sweater."
"What the fuck? I'm immortal." But then he started coughing.
"See?"
Unable to catch his breath for a moment, he waved her off. "I was just thinking," he said finally, "I shoulda fucking danced with him, like you said."
"You can tell him that, next time you see him."
"Why do you keep insisting he's coming back? You know that's probably not true."
"You told me about the dream. About my children."
"About your scary fucking half angel toddlers."
"You said Ganesh was there."
"It was a dream, Raziel."
"How do you know it wasn't prophetic?"
"Why? Why would it be prophetic? Anyway, you said you were gonna wait a century or two for having your creepy kids."
She shrugged. "Maybe I need help opening mayonnaise jars?"
He laughed and coughed, and they both looked down the mountain, to the quiet residence below.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bickering angels and a duel
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking. Just a general FYI, these next few chapters are going to be kinda dark.
Notes: This is part 4 of a 6 chapter sequence I’m calling the Volcano Arc. More notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to capslokdethklok.
OK, kids, ready for more?
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal, tikific, where you are welcome to come poke it with a pointed stick. I've also written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.
A quick recap: somebody died, and Skwisgaar is desperately trying to find out whodunit. Shiva got his war, but nobody’s terribly happy about it. Charles has been trying to hide in his office, but keeps getting interrupted by a bunch of supernatural beings and death metal musicians. Wotan figured out that the angels don’t have the four guys they need to cast their super powerful spell, but that may not be enough to help Our Heroes, with the entire Legion staring down their throats.
Under the Volcano (Mythklok, Chapter 24)
One hour ago....
The Pink Cadillac was heading to Valhalla, William Murderface at the wheel, carrying a carpool of angels.
Well, angels, plus a very hung over Nathan Explosion,
"Pele dumped Surtr's ass last night, so I took the dude OUT DRINKING," he moaned, managing to worsen his headache with his own growling.
"They seem to have a volatile relationship," Raziel observed, hanging over the back of the seat to chat with him.
"They're both VOLCANO PEOPLE. Whaddya expect? Owwww, my head,"
"Juscht tell me if you're going to vomit, asch I will pull to the schide."
"No time for that, William. Here we are." And Ofdensen had leapt from his seat before they had even stopped.
"Pleasche wait until the car hasch come to a complete schtop!" Murderface protested.
Sitting beside him, Dick Knubbler smiled. "Safety first, baby!"
Ofdensen and Raziel were already standing in front of Lucifer, who was still pinned to a rock, impaled by Wotan's spear.
"I have a proposal," Ofdensen told him.
"I think you have about 20 minutes before every soul you know is wiped out by the Legion," Satan laughed.
"Maybe. Maybe not. Nathan can read the Book."
"So can I. So can you. I just can't make fucking sense of it. You have a lot to learn of the workings of a clear narrative, Lady Raziel. Now, a real writer-“
"Bite me," the little angel snorted.
"Nathan's figured out a few things. And, they don't know how much we know," Ofdensen told him. "The Book talks about some feat that can only be performed by four angels with earth powers. We need a fourth."
"You need a fourth angel to do what exactly?"
"Absolutely no fucking idea."
Lucifer paused, impressed. "You're going to bluff the Legion?"
"Fucking A," said Raziel. "Are you in?"
"Fucking A indeed, "Lucifer commented, pulling uselessly on the spear. "I'm sorry to be crass, but,” Satan’s good eye narrowed, “what's in it for me?"
"You'll get my husband's spear outta your gut, for one thing," Raziel pointed out.
"And if we pull this off, we might be more favorably inclined towards you," Ofdensen told him.
"What does that mean?" Lucifer inquired.
"I'm a lawyer. It doesn't mean anything."
"Fucking lawyers. Worse than me."
“Look, Lucifer,” Ofdensen told him. “We don’t have much time. Now, you wanna fuck with Michael or not?”
“OK,” Lucifer agreed. “You have appealed to my sentimentality. Now, are we going to need Lord Wotan to…” he nodded at the spear. Raziel unceremoniously strode over and, one-handed, yanked Gungnir out of the rock.
“Holy fuck,” said Lucifer.
Raziel made the “I have my eyes on you gesture” at Lucifer, and, gripping the spear headed towards the Pink Cadillac.
“You!” Ofdensen told Lucifer, who was rubbing his ample gut. “You sit in back with Nathan.”
The gold-winged angel made to join the lead singer, who hadn’t left the back seat during the entire conversation.
“I’m fucking HUNG OVER,” Nathan announced. “I may spew!”
“Oh. Great,” said Lucifer as Murderface put the car in gear.
Right now….
Skwisgaar had been right, the residence was actually within walking distance. Real walking distance. But Pickles had taken them right inside, to the guy’s living room.
Lord Skanda was sitting on the couch, a blonde, who appeared to be a goddess, at his feet. He looked up as Skwisgaar dropped the architectural drawings in his lap.
Pickles and Skwisgaar stood over him, both frowning. “What you ams knows about dese?” Skwisgaar asked.
Skanda leapt off the couch, sending the papers sliding off his lap. The blonde who had been sitting at his feet scowled at them, annoyed. Pickles regarded her. She looked familiar.
“Nothing. I know nothing," Skanda protested.
“Dood! Yer magic stuff is all over ‘em.”
“Maybe we ams takes you to Shivas. And he ams decides.”
“No. No. Not my father. Please.” Skanda looked into their eyes, panicked.
"You don't need to tell them anything!" the blonde told Skanda.
"Sigyn, what ams you doings here anyway?" Skwisgaar asked her, an exasperated tone in his voice.
"Oh, what the fuck do you think I'm doing here, Odinsson?"
"You ams making da bads relationship choice!" Skwisgaar told her wagging a finger.
"You said they wouldn't find out," Skanda whined to Sigyn.
"They can't do anything to you now," Sigyn told him, rising to twine her arm around his. "You know that."
“Husband, what have you done this time?” Pickles and Skwisgaar glanced back to the doorway. An angry goddess, Devasena, stood there, wiping her hands on her apron.
“What I have done, I have only tried to provide for you, my wife.”
"And how will bringing the Eastern Kingdom to warfare and bankruptcy provide for any of us?"
"You don't deserve him! You don't deserve Skanda," Sigyn told Devasena.
Devasena sighed. "I'm beginning to think you're right about that. You know, Lady Parvati requested our aid. All the years I have been in my mother in law's circle, and I alone could not hold my head high and join her."
"Stick to your knitting, bitch," Sigyn told her. She grabbed Skanda's arm, and dragged him out of the room.
“I shoulda given dat dood a drumstick lobotomy when I hadda chance,” Pickles grumbled.
Devasena studied the death metal musicians in her living room. “I have something. I think you will be able to use it. Skanda gave it to me, weeks ago. But I knew. I think I knew such things would come to pass.” She turned and headed for another room.
Pickles and Skwisgaar looked at each other, and Skwisgaar hastened after her. "And what ams your names, my goddess."
She told him.
"Why you ams stay with dat dude, anyway?" Skwisgaar was asking. "You ams one lovely lady!"
Pickles knew he should tell Skwisgaar to cool it, but this was the first time in so long he had felt like laughing out loud, he simply grinned and followed.
“Four angels?” laughed Raphael. “Two of you clowns are Fallen."
“I fucking hate clowns,” Nathan rumbled.
And that one,” Raphael pointed to Samael, “is barely even an angel.”
Murderface, who had quietly driven up in the Pink Cadillac, bristled and fingered his Glock.
"And.... And.... A HUMAN?" Raphael snorted.
“Nathan!” Sariel yelled back to the singer. “They wanna hear your new song.”
Nathan began to growl in High Angelic.
“Stop that!” Michael yelled. “STOP THAT! THIS INSTANT! SARIEL!”
“Hey, dat ams pretty good, actually,” Toki, who had moved nearer the front to hear, told Murderface.
“Brutal,” agreed Murderface, still scowling at Raphael.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Michael told Sariel. “You could kill us all.”
“Michael, quit being such a fucking pussy,” Raphael snapped.
“Silence!” Michael told him.
“You can’t even keep your own aides in line, Michael?” Wotan asked.
“I’m not his aide!” Raphael snorted.
“Michael,” Gabriel said pleasantly, “perhaps the burdens of leadership have fatigued you.”
“My manpower is precious!” It was Phanuel, the Grey angel, speaking for the first time. “Quit bickering like a bunch of old ladies. Do we advance, or do we retreat? Speak, Michael.”
But Michael was nearly knocked over by Pickles and Skwisgaar, who had suddenly appeared in the middle of the field.
“Whoa,” said Pickles. “Sorry, big dood.” Michael glowered, but Pickles ignored him. “Hey,” the drummer shouted. “We found da dood who killed Gannish! It was an angel! He used da Nephilim!"
There was silence.
Pickles leaned over to Skwisgaaar. “Uh. Dood. Yoo need t’ doo yer stuff.”
Skwisgaar blinked, disoriented. He frowned and clutched the bag he was holding - the bag Devasena had given him, along with her telephone number - carefully studying the magic. Then he looked around, praying the angel in question was near the front of the pack.
He didn’t have to look far.
He pointed.
“RAPHAEL!” Michael shouted.
Shiva advanced on the angel Raphael, holding several blades at the ready.
“Goodness, I didn’t know anything about this kerfluffle,” Garbiel tutted.
“Kerfluffle?” Nathan asked. “Even for an angel, that dude is a douche.”
“Explain yourself, angel” Wotan insisted.
“Some of us,” Raphael explained, eyeing Michael, “have had enough with the endless waiting. We felt a little provocation was in order.” He grinned.
Michael was looking directly at Shiva. “I knew nothing of this. Nothing. This I swear to you, Lord Shiva.”
“You cannot control your murderous underlings? It is you who deserve to die,” Shiva spat at Michael. "I will have your head, angel."
"Goodness, Michael, we cannot hear that kind of talk from puny earth gods," tutted Gabriel. "It must be answered!"
"They have Four," Michael fretted. "The consequences...."
"Tsk! Sariel is bluffing!" Gabriel told him. "It is time to lead the Legion, or step aside, for one who can!"
"OK, fuck this angel shit," Sariel growled. He grabbed the sack from Skwisgaar’s hands and tossed it at Raphael. Something rolled out. A silver coin. It rattled on the floor a small distance, and then finally came to rest a few inches from the Archangel Raphael's feet.
"I challenge you," Sariel whispered to him. "By right of Blood Feud."
"Hiding behind Raziel's skirt?” Raphael grinned. “Just like old times."
“No. Just me and you,” Sariel told him.
“Sariel, cease your nonsense. You can’t fight him,” Gabriel said primly. “You are not of the same rank.”
“I’m not of any fucking rank,” Sariel said, not taking his eyes from Raphael. "I'm Fallen, asshole."
“I can just slice him like this,” Raphael boasted, holding out his arms. “In Court Form. When I kill his Court Form, the rest will swiftly follow."
“Raphael! Consider wisely! The rules of Blood Feud do not apply! Lord Ganesh was not a human,” Gabriel huffed.
“I swore Ganesh my vengeance,” Sariel said. “Before he died. Before you had him murdered. Murdered by a bunch of fucking monsters. Because you were too much of a pussy to meet him eye to eye." Raphael’s eyes narrowed. That one had stung.
"I would fight this one," Raphael sneered. "'Tis my honor."
"Raphael!" Gabriel suddenly seemed a bit less effusive.
“Michael, you must decide here,” Phanuel ordered. "And quickly."
Michael looked between Gabriel and Raphael. There may have been a slight smile on his face. “All right. You may have your duel," he told Raphael.
"Raphael! No!" said Gabriel.
“Since you challenged me,” Raphael grinned at Sariel, “I will choose the weaponry.” He already held in his hands two katana.
“Then I will choose the venue," Sariel told him. "My home. Mordland. We meet in 10 minutes.” Sariel turned and started to walk away. He nodded at Raziel, who, after quickly squeezing Wotan’s hand, hastened after him.
They appeared in the gardens at Mordland, beneath the new volcano. “He fights with two blades,” Raziel said quickly and quietly. She was aready holding two katana out for Sariel. "Very fast. Right handed, but ambidextrous in practice. Right hand and arm stronger, and tends to lead with right.”
“You know what I wish?” Ofdensen sighed. He had turned back to his silvery haired Court Form, and he suddenly looked old. “I really wish I was actually a good enough swordsman to use any of this information.”
“Weak peripheral vision. And being a Seraph, he's too fucking stupid to turn his head. Oh, and you probably have better night vision."
"Well. That will be useful if we're still fighting at sundown," Ofdensen grumbled. He took the blades and carefully looked them over.
“He’s good.” Raziel was looking over to where Raphael was quietly consulting with Phanuel. She gawped for a while, wondering why he hadn't chosen Gabriel as his second. Phanuel suddenly looked over at Raziel, inquisitive, so she scowled at him and turned away. “Really good. I almost lost to him myself.”
"Perfect."
She glared at Ofdensen. "He's an angel. Usual angel prejudices. Get into his head."
"There's information that's useful to have." He smiled grimly. He grabbed her arm. “You must promise me…. If anything happens….”
“By my life. By my death. Asgard will defend Dethklok. But you will not fail." She leaned closer, whispering. "For Ganesh, you must not fail."
He suddenly pulled her close, so his forehead was touching hers. He squeezed his eyes shut, and looked as if he was concentrating very hard. She pulled back slightly, blinking. She looked into his eyes, making certain he saw her nod.
He walked over to where Raphael was already waiting, grinning.
They crossed swords.
You could tell the duelists were not human, as they moved faster than any human swordsmen, including the most highly experienced martial artists.
Raziel was right, Ofdensen thought. This guy was good. Too good. He was spending his time avoiding being killed. He ducked away, out of Raphael's reach.
"Are we dueling or dancing, little Fallen?" Raphael scoffed. "I knew there was a reason you always had Raziel do your dirty work."
"At least I didn't have to resort to using Nephilim."
"My pets got the job done."
"But why Ganesh?"
"You haven't figured that one out? I thought you were supposed to be smart."
"On the other hand, I always knew you were an idiot."
"For years, we've waited to move on you. But Michael and that idiot Uriah always wanted us to wait. Wait for what? Now, Uriah is gone, and we still can't get Michael to move.
"So you killed Ganesh?"
"It was the most brilliant move of my career. In one blow, I have crippled the Eastern Empire, and The Dethklok."
"You know, Mr. Brilliant, it's not 'The Dethklok.' You sound tragically uncool."
"You sound like a dead man," Raphael rejoindered.
"You wanted to goad us into war?" Ofdensen ducked as Raphael nearly took his head off. He felt the swoosh of the blade going by. "Then haven't you fucked yourself by accepting my challenge?"
"War will go on after I finish you. If nothing else, Lady Raziel will insist Asgard join."
"Raziel is too smart for that."
Raphael roared with laughter. "I believe this is the first time anyone has ever constructed a sentence using both the words 'Raziel' and 'smart.'"
"But what if I kill you? Then you're kinda fucked, huh?"
"You will never best me."
"But, you didn't account for all your outcomes. That's not being a strategic thinker. See, this is why I am rich and powerful, and you're stuck sucking Gabriel's dick." It was an old taunt, but it never failed. Raphael answered with some powerful but clumsy blows.
Ofdensen feinted, and then retreated once again out of Raphael’s reach, muttering, “Fuck this shit.” He tossed away the katana and drew Vulcan’s sword instead. He barely had time to power it up before Raphael was upon him again.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Fallen? Already admitting defeat?” Raphael chuckled.
Ofdensen grunted. It was fucking difficult keeping away two fucking swords with only one. But he just needed to get this right once.
“What? You in a hurry to get back and suck off Honored Kerfluffle?” Ofdensen asked. That did it. Those guys never changed. Raphael responded with another furious but sloppy rain of blows. Ofdensen took a single step back and struck. One of Raphael’s blades was cut cleanly in half by his white hot blade.
Ofdensen cried out in pain. Raphael had spun, and had managed to rip into Ofdensen's thigh with his half blade. Ofdensen True Formed, and began to whip his wings in the air.
“You said Court Form!” Raphael screamed after him.
“YOU said Court Form,” Sariel taunted. Raphael cursed and tossed his broken blade aside. As quickly as he could, which was none to quickly, he changed to his hulking Seraph Form, beating his wings after Sariel, who was already disappearing into the volcano's cone.
The Seraph angrily tarried on the rim. "Fuck those fucking lawyers," he muttered. He saw Sariel’s blood where it had dripped. He smiled, changed back to his smaller Court Form, and entered the tunnels, sniffing for blood like a predator.
He didn’t see the flash in his peripheral vision, and they crossed swords, and then the smaller angel had vanished up the tunnels again. Raphael could barely see, and the now Court Formed opponent hid easily in the dark. Ofdensen was clearly weakened by the wound, but it was frustrating.
Another attack from nowhere. "I suppose you think you are better than my Nephilim?" Raphael asked him.
"Dunno about that, but I'm pretty fucking sure I'm better than you."
"You are misshapen things, you New Ones. And you most of all, the first."
"The what?" Ofdensen actually paused, though well out of Raphael's sword length.
"You were the template. Didn't you know that?"
Ofdensen frowned. He's trying to get into my head. He struck, and then retreated again, further down into the network of tunnels.
Raphael followed he bloodstained ground, was attacked, and then once again he was alone. It was all right. He crouched down, dabbing a bit of Sariels blood on his fingers. He would wear down Sariel. Even with one sword, in the dark, the weak Fallen was no match for him.
He turned down another corridor. Once again, he was blind sided. It was growing hotter.
"Are you getting tired, Fallen?"
"Bored, more like it. I think I might stop for a smoke." And then he was gone.
Raphael sighted the blood trail again. There was more now. The heart was beating faster, and the bleeding had increased.
Raphael rounded the corner, to a larger, well-lit chamber.
Ofdensen was sitting on the floor, cigarette to his lips, match raised. Blood was already pooling near his leg.
“Any last words, freak?” Raphael grinned, flourishing his sword.
Sariel thumbed a match. "I declare this volcano ... open," he said, flinging his cigarette with deadly accuracy towards Surtr's control chamber.
There was heat. Incredible heat. And fire.
Ofdensen's chest was caught in a vise. Was this what it was like having a heart attack?
And then he was sitting outside, in the gardens at Mordland once again, Raziel's arms encircling him with all her great strength.
They sat a moment, breathing in sync, watching the new volcano erupt.
“You can let me go, you know. You’re gonna break a rib.” She relaxed her grip somewhat, though not all the way.
“Pulled through a fucking mountain, Raziel. How the fuck do you do that?” He shrugged free of her and painfully stood up. Pele’s bright orange lava had already begun oozing from the top of the cone.
“I didn’t think you were going to call,” Raziel said, standing beside him. “I got scared.”
“I almost…. It doesn’t matter. Anyway.”
“What happened to your leg?”
“It’s fine. It made it easy luring him in deeper.” He frowned, but not from the pain. "He said something strange to me in there. He said I was the first made of the New Ones, not the last."
Raziel shook her head.
"Lucifer said something like that as well, when we caught him in Asgard," he told her.
"I suppose you can ask Lucifer. But you and I both know how much value to put on his answer."
He nodded. "You don't know anything about this?"
"I wasn't around Headquarters much those days. You know how I hated it."
"Yeah, it was not a good place."
“You used the sword?”
He held it up. “Vighnesha, Vighneshvara.”
“You know, his people. They come back. It’s what they do.”
“Yeah,” he said, eying the sword. “In a year. Or a thousand. Or ten thousand. He told me about it, once. Or, they don’t come back at all, if they were good. And you know, he was good.”
She found she had nothing to say to this. She encircled his waist with one arm and, for once, he didn’t protest, and they walked together back to the battlefield.
Two gods stood arm in arm, watching the volcano.
"It issssssbasssssed beautiful, like you, my ssssssweet!" Surtr told her.
"Dis is my best work yet," Pele agreed. "We one badass team, yeah?"
"Badasssssss."
The two returning angels didn’t need to say anything. The death of an Archangel is no quiet matter. The angels were together, Phanuel frowning as he talked to them, Michael with a look of terrible sadness, and Gabriel with an expression that was impossible to read.
Wotan quietly pulled Raziel aside. “You didn’t save the head this time did you, dearest?” he whispered.
“Sorry dear,” she told him, smiling.
“Damn. But I’m seeing a couple of others I’d like for my collection.” They looked over to where the angels were assembled. With a final nod from Michael, Phanuel impatiently went to consult with his angelic troops. The Seraph soldiers began to fly away. Michael and Gabriel spoke not a word after Phanuel departed them, but, glaring furiously at one another, finally disappeared.
“Do you think there will be another War of Heaven?” Raziel whispered to Wotan.
“I’m pretty sure about that.” Shiva had approached them, and held out one of his arms. Wotan completely ignored the gesture, and pulled the blue god into an embrace. Breaking the hug after a time, Shiva gripped his friend's arms with all four hands, nodded sadly, and, joining hands with Lady Parvati, began to lead off his troops.
William Murderface had pulled up the Pink Caddy, and Ofdensen was already sitting down inside, his leg propped up. Dick Knubbler was winding what appeared to be a piece of linen cloth around it. “Don’t bleed too musch on the scheat, Ofdenschen,” Murderface called back irritably.
“I need a drink,” said Ofdensen.
“You need a fucking hospital,” Raziel told him.
"Don't worry, Razzy baby! I been in the entertainment business a long time, baby, yeah," Knubbler was saying as he expertly cut the bandage. "You pick up stuff, yeah."
"Bandaging sword wounds?" Raziel asked, disbelieving, as Knubbler finished and hopped back in the front beside Murderface.
“We ams takes cares of hims,” Skwisgaar told her quietly, gripping her shoulder as he made for the car.
“Where are we goin’?” Murderface called back, one arm loosely around a grinning Knubbler’s shoulders.
“I don’t know. ANYWHERE. I’m fucking PARCHED!” Nathan grumbled from the back.
“I thought you were hung over?” Ofdensen asked him.
“Yeah, that too. HEY LUCIFER!” The golden-winged angel moved closer to the car. “ARE YOU FUCKING COMING?”
“Uh,” Lucifer said, uncertainly. “You wish me to come with you?"
“Goin’ drinkin’ wit’ da devil?” Pickles mused, sliding in next to Ofdensen.
“OH FUCK YEAH. TOOOKIII!” The guitarist, having sent his goddesses off with their parents, hastened towards the car. “Dethklok is going DRINKING WITH SATAN!” Toki grinned and jumped inside, and, with several cries of, “Fuck, yeah,” Murderface put the car in gear and roared off with his mad crew to strip clubs yet unknown.
Wotan, having seen off his troops, came to stand by where Raziel was watching the car depart.
"Personally, I think Lucifer would make an excellent sixth member of Dethklok," Wotan laughed. He looked down to the strangely quiet Raziel. “It’s been a great comfort, having your companionship, Lady,” he told her. She squeezed his hand very tightly.
“What is the matter?” Wotan asked.
“I did something terrible,” she told him.
“I certainly doubt that.”
She shook her head. “Before the duel? I told Sariel, if he didn’t survive, Asgard would protect Dethklok.”
“That was the right and honorable thing to do.”
“No! Wotan. I took away his purpose. You don’t understand. We're not like you. He’s had his vengeance. Now, he doesn’t have anything left.”
Wotan looked at her, stroking her hair. “The heart can endure many heavy blows.”
“Not him,” she said sadly. “He’s not like you.”
"King Wotan." The couple looked behind them. The Grey Seraph who headed the Legion troops had remained behind.
The Seraph bowed formally. "I am Phanuel. I am sorry that we were fated to meet under such circumstances."
"Honored Phanuel," Wotan said, nodding. Unlike most all Court Formed Seraphim, who tended to be big as rhinos, Phanuel was nearly human-sized, so Wotan could easily look him in the eye. "And I assume you know my queen, Raziel," the king added.
Phanuel gazed at Raziel for a moment, seemingly speechless. Then he hurriedly said, "Of course. Majesty." And bowed.
"Honored Brother Phanuel," Raziel said curiously.
"I must depart now. I wish peace to you both." And with that, Phanuel winged off with the last of his troops.
"That was weird," Raziel mused. "I mean, considering he was gonna kill us a couple minutes ago."
Wotan kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go home.” And they mounted onto Sleipnir's broad back, and rode off into the sky.
"That's impressive," Wotan commented, watching Pickles and Skwisgaar appear in Valhalla's front courtyard. "You realize, Pickles, that there are few humans who can manage that trick?"
Pickles shrugged, trying to act casual as he was being mobbed by two giant wolves and a tiger.
"Yeah, and he ams not yanks me around, like Lady Raziel," Skwisgaar added.
Wotan laughed. "I've told her to be careful. My girl doesn't know her own strength." The king bade them enter, and they walked the vast hallways of Valhalla for a time, until they came to a large, comfortable sitting room, where they sat in overstuffed chairs beside a warm fire. The animals nosed around for a while and then collapsed into furry mounds.
"I had a couple of reasons for asking you boys up here today," Wotan said, passing out Scotch.
"Is, uh, Charles not comin'?" Pickles asked.
"No. Not right now. And that brings up a point. It seems when my Lady was acting as second during his duel, she promised Asgard's protection to you. Now," he appeared to be studying his glass, "I doubt it's ever going to come about that such a thing would be required, especially while that man is alive...." He trailed off. "But, if you have any need, we are here, the queen and I."
"Dood, yanno, dere may be need," Pickles moped. "We gotta lotta enemies."
"So does any man with merit. Even young Ganesh, who never had a selfish thought towards anyone."
"What ams happens wit' Skanda?" asked Skwisgaar, staring moodily into the fire. "Ands Sigyns?"
Wotan looked pained. "Well, that's an unfortunate matter." He sipped his whiskey, and then glared at his glass. He set it down on a low table, and thought for a moment. "Lord Shiva, due to ancient tradition, requires an heir. He's lost one son, so Skanda is it, at the moment."
"But Skanda...." Pickles began.
"He doesn't deserve his freedom. Yes. He is being watched. Along with Sigyn. But, that's all as can be done for now."
"So, dood, can't we jist kill him an' get Gannish back?"
"Would that it were so simple," Wotan said, smiling ruefully. "Even if such a thing were to occur, there is no guarantee we would see Ganesh again, or perhaps not for a long time. Their afterlife is said to be bureaucratic nightmare, for one."
"Dere's paperwork shit in da afterlife?" Pickles protested.
Wotan shrugged. "It's not, as they say, my department."
"Dat sucks,dood."
"The most tragic thing is that, by his actions, Skanda may have precipitated another War in Heaven."
"Pfft. Dose angels can goes kill each others," Skwisgaar snorted.
"Trouble is, it may make it more dangerous for all of us," the king observed. "Now, Pickles, as far as you know, we are the only ones who know about Aaron?"
"Yeh. An' I didn't even wanna let anyone else know. I know dat kinda messed stuff up."
"Not at all, this was the wise and honorable course. Though, t'would probably be for the best if we kept it just between us for now. We might let Grandma know, if that would be acceptable to you?"
"I t'ink Lady Raz wants t' visit. I t'ink she wants t' hug him a lot, or some shit."
Wotan laughed. "Well, there's probably not much harm in that. You see she doesn't spoil him overmuch. Before we know it, she'll have him dressed in a school uniform and speaking French!"
Raziel alit on the outcropping, curiously watching Sariel. He was sitting, wings out, smoking a cigarette.
"Where do you even carry those things when you're True Formed?"
"Why does it matter to you?"
"It's cold up here. You'll catch your death, without a sweater."
"What the fuck? I'm immortal." But then he started coughing.
"See?"
Unable to catch his breath for a moment, he waved her off. "I was just thinking," he said finally, "I shoulda fucking danced with him, like you said."
"You can tell him that, next time you see him."
"Why do you keep insisting he's coming back? You know that's probably not true."
"You told me about the dream. About my children."
"About your scary fucking half angel toddlers."
"You said Ganesh was there."
"It was a dream, Raziel."
"How do you know it wasn't prophetic?"
"Why? Why would it be prophetic? Anyway, you said you were gonna wait a century or two for having your creepy kids."
She shrugged. "Maybe I need help opening mayonnaise jars?"
He laughed and coughed, and they both looked down the mountain, to the quiet residence below.