Summary: You try to offer a reward to the machine that kept you entertained as it descended deeper and deeper into Hell… too bad you underestimated its own desire.
English is not my first language, I apologize if it is not understandable.
To do this, I had to use the translator.
The last circle of Hell was silent, although it wasn’t the typical silence that came before a battle, nor the heavy silence that lingered when everything was dead. It was an imposed silence, supernatural, an absolute halt of the movement of time, of the natural flow that usually existed in that abyss. Everything was frozen by a single will—yours, the will of the entity that had paused Hell itself in order to speak to a machine in the best possible way.
The snow floated in the air without falling, suspended, as if an invisible hand had frozen its descent halfway; nothing dared to move, not even the wind that should have been freezing.
And at the center of the scene were two beings who didn’t seem affected by what was happening around them.
You, raised, imposing, even in the more compact form you were currently using instead of the one you were accustomed to, observed the machine standing before you. Your body, composed of the void of the abyss, made you a more striking figure within the deserted, pale circle of Treachery. Some tendrils of your form shifted slowly, revealing a bit of your current state.
And just as you were observing the machine, it was doing the same with you.
V1 kept its visor fixed on your figure; the yellow glow of it reflected the faint radiance of your own expressionless eyes. The eight bright yellow protrusions, similar to wings emerging from its back, were raised higher than usual—probably still on alert, though you didn’t know if it was due to the stillness you had imposed or simply your presence, now visible to it. The metal of its body had a few dents, and it still held in its hands the gun it had used to defeat the archangel for the third consecutive time, but curiously, it hadn’t been used to end your life.
It didn’t matter; that follower of the Father was going to die anyway. His end could have been taken from him by any being after V1 had left him alone. The ruthless cold of Betrayal could have buried him, or perhaps some machine or demon might have taken advantage of his vulnerability to attack him. You wouldn’t deny that seeing Gabriel and V1 fight again the way they had before was truly entertaining to watch, although of course the victor had been obvious from the start—there was a reason Hell kept V1 on a pedestal.
But even so, you still had the question of why V1 had spared the follower of God. After absorbing so much blood during its descent, had a feeling of pity toward Gabriel been born? Did it hold some affection for him? Had it grown bored of him?
There were too many questions and not a single answer, although you decided not to satisfy that curiosity of yours— it was for the best. You instead chose to take Gabriel with you. It was something ironic for anyone: that you had saved his life. The God he worshipped so much hadn’t saved him—another had. And that “other” was you.
Maybe—if you were lucky—he would be of some use to you. Just as V1 was Hell’s favorite, you could have the archangel, although after those embarrassing defeats, you doubted his fragile pride would ever recover from them.
You narrowed your eight eyes as you continued keeping your gaze fixed on V1. Its posture had changed a little now; it no longer seemed as alert as it had been at the beginning. Maybe it was because you hadn’t attacked it so far, or perhaps it was because it had already recognized you. Some tendrils curled calmly in the air as you prepared to speak.
“You have already gone through everything Hell has to offer…”
Your voice came out just as deep and resonant; the very layer of Hell seemed to tremble slightly because of it. But V1 didn’t seem surprised at all. It didn’t take its eyes off you, even if it had to lift its visor a little more to look at you properly.
“And you have reached the end of the path.”
One of your eyes focused on the gray, motionless landscape surrounding you. Beneath your figure and V1’s, there was a thin layer of ice; beneath both of you, some sinners were buried. Although it depended directly on how treacherous they had been in life for it to be deemed necessary to bury them alive in ice—or at least that was what Hell had told you about its last circle.
“I am impressed by everything you’ve managed to show me.”
Then you made a brief pause as you thought carefully about your next words, trying to consider possible future consequences that could implicate you in things you didn’t want to be associated with…
. . . .
What did it matter anyway? V1 was trapped for life in a loop of constant eternal suffering where he was both executioner and victim, and that was only because he had caught the attention of Hell itself. You wouldn’t care if that sadistic madman tried to claim you had defiled his precious gladiator—he didn’t truly have any real strength to take reprisals against you, because you surpassed him in everything.
“I suppose it would be appropriate for me to give you a proper reward for all the entertainment you’ve given me.”
“So go on, ask me for whatever you want.”
There was a long and even uncomfortable silence between the two of you. V1 had tilted its head slightly, camera-like, as if it didn’t understand what you had said, and meanwhile you waited patiently for its response…until you realized that V1 didn’t speak. Like the vast majority of machines created during the war, V1 didn’t have a special box that allowed it to modulate speech. Some machines had it, but they almost always chose to discard it for more efficient resource management.
You let out a brief exhalation—more theatrical than natural for you.
“I’m sorry… I forgot that little detail about you…”
And as you said that, a snap of your fingers echoed followed by a vibration in the air. There was no visible change in V1, but you had clearly done something to it. The yellow light of its visor seemed to intensify a bit more as it remained still in place—it was no longer just observing you, but also evaluating you.
The tendrils, the dark particles that drifted off you as if you were made of fire, despite your divine form being as cold as its metal… the dead, pure white of your eyes that could easily be mistaken for the monotonous white of the snow in the layer of Treachery. Every part of your body was impossible and incomprehensible, your form surely held every secret of the universe—secrets you were certainly not willing to reveal.
And yet, despite all of that, you were right there, in front of it, offering it anything it had never dreamed of but could now allow itself to think about.
“What is it that you desire, V1…?”
What does it truly want? More blood? More power? A larger —or even infinite— arsenal of weapons to entertain itself with for a while before moving on to the next?
There was no doubt you could grant anything it asked of you. If you could freeze an entire layer just to speak without interruptions, then by default you could do more—much more.
.
. .
. . .
“I want you.”
You made your luminous eyes blink all at once when you heard that… you hadn’t expected it, not coming from that machine built by mortals, and even less from an efficient and seemingly unchanging killer like it. That’s what it wanted? It wanted you?
You weren’t going to mock what it said;if anything, you would ignore it and ask the question again. There was no way the machine wanted you as a reward, because you weren’t actually part of what could be considered a reward… Had one of Gabriel’s blows really affected its system? Or had Hell taken possession of V1’s body and was pretending to be it just to annoy you?
Once again, there were too many questions, and you didn't plan on getting an answer to what the machine was asking for. Did it really think it could have you? Was it stupid?
“Think your answer through.”
You murmured in a lower tone than usual, as if you were truly tempting it to take back the decision it had made.
“Very few have this kind of privilege…you have an entire world of possibilities, machine.”
“You hold so much power in the palm of your—”
“I want you.”
This time, V1 had been firmer,or at least that new voice box you had given him made it sound as though he had used a firmer tone—it wasn’t a repetition but a confirmation of something you still didn’t fully understand.
You were trying to decipher it—a machine, of all things, had said that to you, and because of it you kept going over it again and again. Maybe you had misheard, or maybe those very words held some hidden meaning, a trick or a secret code, something that had to be deciphered by you.
Your body began to slide forward, some of your tendrils shifting a little more—almost restlessly—while others curled against the ice on the ground. Your form leaned in further to speak even closer to V1’s visor, even though he could hear you perfectly well from his previous position.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
You stated with a sharp, almost tense voice, like a string on the verge of snapping. Your eyes narrowed almost as if you were frowning while you stared directly at the machine, and it wasn’t falling behind either, keeping its gaze on you and you alone. Of course V1 had noticed the blade-like edge in your tone, but it also registered another change—it wasn’t a sound or a movement from you; it was in temperature.
The layer of Treachery was, in itself, the coldest layer its systems had been able to register so far a sterile environment, yet one so hostile that its processors had to work overtime just to maintain basic functionality… but this new cold was different. Very different.
The cold had intensified, but it wasn’t because of the air or the snow… and V1 felt it—for the first time in its existence, it truly felt it. Its internal systems quickly calculated the temperature drop, adjusting the ventilation; a faint squeal slipped through one of the vents in its cooling systems. It was operating within margins, but barely.
Your closeness was dangerous, but not because it considered you a threat… but because of the reaction you provoked in it. It was as if you were heating up its system, even though the environment around you was the complete opposite a ridiculous warmth, almost organic in a way. Its systems also detected that the accumulated blood inside might be the reason its temperature was rising.
You kept watching V1 in silence. You knew exactly what it was going through, but you didn’t say a word about it.
"I'm going to keep watching you."
Your voice was still low and sharp, then you relaxed your posture—slowly, almost theatrically—uncurling your frame until you regained your full height, though your gaze never left the blue machine.
"Until you decide something appropriate."
And not even a second passed before your figure vanished not fading, not dissolving you simply disappeared, as if you had never been there at all. You left no trace. The gray tint vanished with you, as though it had followed you in your brief departure. Snow began to fall again, slowly, and the air resumed its work, shifting the frost and deepening the cold.
V1 was alone now. The warmth in his system still lingered, and he couldn’t shake the sensation that you were watching him… from everywhere. You were keeping your promise. You were observing him. The ice beneath V1 trembled faintly, and a few meters away a hatch began to rise from the frozen ground. It was time to leave.
_______________________________________
[5-S: I Only Say Morning]
You weren’t entirely sure how you had ended up on the machine’s lap. Things had happened far too quickly—even for someone of your nature, whose existence could be measured in eons. All you could do was curl forward slightly as you heard the silent laughter of Hell, mocking you, whispering that you had grown soft because of its gladiator…
As if... You weren't as obsessed as him to go modifying such vast areas of your own being just for V1 to run through them in one go. The guy literally even created the secret level you were currently in when the machine was just in the Circle of Lust, fighting the corpse of Minos... but no... you're not the soft and crazy one, it's the other guy. It's Hell.
And yet, despite Hell’s silent laughter—mockery that only you could hear—everything in this level was relatively calm… Too calm for your liking.
The large bonfire in the middle of everything briefly illuminated the small area where you both sat. The machine had spent the entire time fishing—an obvious fact, considering the sun was already setting. It didn’t need many more fish to finish the level again.
You watched the fire in silence, and the machine said nothing either. Despite having granted it full capability to express itself, it chose not to, and you found that perfectly fitting… No useless words. No foolish, absurd questions to answer. Only the crackling of wood in the fire… and the two of you.
“Have you thought about what you desire?”
You asked, your voice sounding like the echo of a thought—soft, yet impossible to ignore. Your gaze remained fixed on the flame dancing before your dead eyes before you shifted it toward the machine’s yellow visor. A long silence stretched between the two of you, so long that you prepared to repeat the question when the lack of response dragged on far more than necessary.
And that was when the answer finally came…
“I want you…~”
You immediately interpreted the machine’s words as confirmation that it still hadn’t put any real thought into what it desired. Your eyes lowered again as you could only shake your head—more a gesture of resignation than mockery… because someone else was already laughing hysterically at what V1 was wishing for. You shifted slightly on its lap, your form and a few of your tendrils barely brushing against the machine’s bluish metal.
“I suppose I’ll keep waiting until you decide on something real.”
But then you felt it a hand that clearly wasn’t yours… but the machine’s… sinking into your body…
The laughter echoing in your mind came to an abrupt halt, so suddenly that it almost confused you. Your gaze had been fixed on the fire when you told the machine you would continue waiting until it made a real decision, and when you felt its hand sink into you…If you’d been human, you would have snapped your neck with how fast you turned to look at it.
And it didn’t stop there V1 practically buried the Feedbacker, with no apparent resistance, all the way up to the elbow, as if your figure were a liquid space disguised as a solid shape…
You moved quickly, abandoning your calm state, and faced the machine head-on. One of your hands rose to grasp the back of V1’s camera-shaped head. It wasn’t a gentle gesture it was a warning, and a very serious one.
“What are you trying to do, machine?”
The machine didn’t answer you with words. Its visor was fixed on the white of your eyes, until the lower eyelid lifted, creating an expression that reminded you of a smile… a playful, complicit, shamelessly satisfied smirk…
(For anyone who didn’t get it, V1 just grabbed what would essentially be your ass… good night.)
Summary: You spare Gabriel’s life… and accidentally give him an existential crisis.
English is not my first language, I apologize if it is not understandable.
To do this, I had to use the translator.
Gabriel remained on his knees; his wings were spread wide in a desperate attempt to appear more imposing than his battered body allowed. One of his hands pressed tightly against one of the many wounds V1 had inflicted on him, trying to keep more blood from spilling out. Despite everything, his gaze stayed fixed on the machine’s figure.
Until V1, instead of delivering the finishing blow—the final strike that would send him straight to his grave—did not execute him.Instead, V1 slowly lowered its weapon and withdrew from the scene.
There was no resistance left in him.
His body fell to the ground, as if it had suddenly remembered it could no longer hold itself up. In those last moments of consciousness, Gabriel wondered if the Father was truly gone, if He was dead, and then, with bitterness, he wondered what would be the first thing to claim his life. The blood loss caused by V1's weapons? The brutal cold that scourged the layer of Treachery? Or the absence of the Holy Light that the Holy Council had ripped from him?
A part of him understood that he deserved such a slow death. He had inflicted more suffering than many sinners ever warranted. He had crossed lines; he had allowed himself to believe that he did it in the Father’s name, that it was the right and proper thing to do.
And now, with no strength and no purpose, all he could do was wait for death while the snow slowly buried him.
His body began to relax, little by little.
“I suppose this is my end…” he thought, as the lack of fresh air began to suffocate him.
And then, a clear and steady voice echoed in his mind.
“No, you will not.”
The Archangel sat up abruptly, and the snow covering him scattered from the sudden movement. Air filled his lungs all at once, choking and disorienting him at the same time; he coughed hard, feeling his throat burn as he waited for the pain that should have racked his body after moving like that.
. . . .
The pain… was gone.
Though his body still trembled slightly, he couldn’t stop himself from slowly moving his hands, feeling along the parts of his body that his armor allowed him to reach. The wounds… had they disappeared?
That couldn’t be possible. Just moments ago he had been dying, and now…
Gabriel forced himself to stop thinking about it, because first he needed to focus on locating the source of the voice that had spoken to him; it wasn’t familiar, but it most likely had something to do with his sudden recovery.
He searched for the mysterious voice with his gaze, but found nothing. Only mist and frost remained to accompany him, silent accomplices to his apparent delirium. Perhaps, he thought, he really was losing his mind at last—imagining things that existed only in his head and were not truly there… yes, that could be it… There was no other explanation, right?
But… his wounds were no longer there.
His hands once again explored his body. There was no blood, no dents in the sacred metal of his armor, no burning, no throbbing. Nothing. As if V1 had never touched him.
He couldn’t understand it; he was far too confused by everything. There was no way he could be perfectly fine now if just moments earlier he hadn’t been… unless… No. Impossible. They had taken the Holy Light from him, and even if he still possessed it, it could never have healed him like this.
Gabriel tried not to dwell on it any further and instead attempted to stand, but he wasn’t able to. Not until he felt it—deep within himself—a subtle warmth running through his body, rising from the tips of his feet and spreading until it encompassed his wings entirely.
The Holy Light was with him again; faint, but he could feel it growing stronger with every passing moment. The emptiness he had felt before was now being filled by the Father’s Light.
Gabriel’s breaths were slow and drawn out, trying to steady his racing mind after this new revelation. He sat up with deliberate care, and the words slipped from his throat without thought—tinged with more hope than he intended.
“Father…?”
Only silence answered him; yet something in the air had changed. It wasn’t anything visual, but he could sense it deep within his being.
Something was wrong…
And suddenly, everything went black.
The abrupt shift in his surroundings made the Archangel dizzy again, causing him to stumble and collapse to his knees—but this time his hands caught his fall. The ground beneath his gloves felt unlike anything he had ever touched; there was no snow or frost accompanying him anymore, yet the air was far colder and denser… and something—he couldn’t tell what—was watching him from somewhere…
Gabriel pushed himself upright again, aware of how visibly he was trembling, though by this point he didn’t know whether it was from the lingering dizziness or the biting cold of this place… or perhaps both. Carefully, he grasped the hilts of his swords—Justice on his left, Splendor on his right. The familiar weight of them brought him a small measure of comfort.
Gabriel’s body shuddered.
The unfamiliar voice spoke again, causing the ground beneath the Archangel’s feet to tremble slightly, though he still couldn’t understand what the voice was trying to say to him. The feathers of Gabriel’s wings bristled, an automatic, instinctive reaction from his body… as if it were warning him that something completely incomprehensible was approaching.
“Father…?” Gabriel repeated, clinging to that small spark of hope that, surprisingly, had not yet left him.
But the answer he received was nothing he expected…
“Why do you keep speaking his name?”
“You know perfectly well that he is gone.”
The tone was dry, direct, without a single filter. That voice cut through the air, the metal, the flesh. It echoed through his bones like an inescapable verdict.
The archangel tightened his grip around the hilts of his swords as he spoke again.
“Lies!” he shouted into the void. “Show yourself—now!".
He demanded while pointing one of his swords at a random spot. There was no visible enemy, and yet... the cold was growing ever more intense. He felt it seep into the exposed parts of his armor, such as his neck and abdomen.
“Oh, Gabriel…”
“You take one step forward and five steps back…”
Even though the unknown voice carried not a single trace of emotion, Gabriel could have sworn that this being-whatever it was—was mocking him.
“But if you want me to show myself… then I will.”
The archangel held his breath as the darkness surrounding him lit up for a brief moment… but not in the way he expected. There were eight glowing eyes.
Four on each side.
They were impossibly large and luminous, white like the heart of a star. There were no pupils—or at least none Gabriel could see—but their gaze weighed heavier than anything he had ever witnessed in all his long years of existence. He couldn’t distinguish the full body of the being before him; the brightness of those enormous eyes consumed almost all of his attention. But he couldn’t deny that if there was a body attached to them, it would be colossal.
Colossal enough to make the titans of old look small beside it…
Not Minos’ corpse.
Not Sisyphus’ decapitated body.
Nothing came close to this.
Gabriel realized his breathing was erratic, as if he had just run a marathon; the beating of his heart pounded in his ears like a frantic war drum. He also noticed that his hands had dropped his swords long ago, leaving them lying on the ground of that strange place…
The ground trembled slightly beneath his feet. Gabriel tried to step back, tried to force his body to do something, to react, but it refused to obey him; all he could do was hunch in on himself when he heard the voice speak again.
“You are smaller from my perspective than from the other one…”
Gabriel swallowed with difficulty, still trembling before that immeasurable presence. His body refused to cooperate; his legs barely responded, his hands tingled from the cold, and his head felt heavier with every passing second.
But his mind was still working—barely, but it worked—though his thoughts were simple, fragmented at best.
That unfamiliar voice.
His restored Light.
The sudden change in his surroundings.
The immensity before him.
The power that being radiated…
Gabriel’s voice came out as barely a whisper—rough and dry.
“What… are you?”
There was a brief, uncomfortable silence; Gabriel waited for the answer he would receive, though he was also struggling to keep himself composed.
“It’s difficult to explain… in terms you would be able to understand.”
The answer was, at the very least, unsatisfying, but Gabriel decided it was best not to insist any further; he was in no condition to argue. He could barely stay on his feet, and the last thing he wanted was to offend that being.
Gabriel lowered his head, staring at his gloves, noticing how they were still trembling.
“So… how should I address you?”
“I do not have a name.”
The archangel lifted his gaze from his hands upon hearing that answer, though it was certainly not what he expected.
“But for now… you may address me as [Your Name].”
The word felt strange on his tongue. Reckless. As if that name didn’t do justice to what stood before him.
And yet, he had no choice but to accept it. There was nothing else he could do.
“[Your Name]…” he said slowly, testing the weight of that title; Gabriel felt as though he were pronouncing something wrong. As if he didn’t deserve to—as if he were not worthy enough to speak that name.
“Were you the one… who returned my Light to me?”
“At last, an interesting question.”
A chill crawled up Gabriel’s spine. Your voice still carried no emotion whatsoever, and because of that, the archangel couldn’t perceive it as something natural…
Gabriel swallowed hard; he felt dehydrated, hungry—sensations he never would have imagined, never thought he could even experience. His head began to ache the longer he stared into your glowing eyes. Everything felt so strange and overwhelming to him, and the silence only seemed to grow louder, as if it were an enemy whose arrival he had failed to anticipate.
But deep down, he knew that wasn’t truly silence. The entity before him was merely... watching. And it did so with the calm of someone who had all the time in the world.
For Gabriel, it was torment.
“Yes…”
“It was I who returned to you what was taken.”
Gabriel lowered his gaze again; they had just confirmed what he’d been dreading. He could feel it within himself—the unmistakable proof of his Light’s return, that divine spark the Holy Council had torn from him as punishment for his defeat at the hands of the machine. And now, he stood before this intimidating presence, one that made him shrink without so much as a single movement.
“So… it was you…”
He murmured softly; the air was growing denser, and speaking cost him more than it should have. Yet despite that, the place made his voice sound perfectly clear.
“…Why… did you do it?”
Gabriel’s wings, already tense, bristled violently when your glowing eyes suddenly drew closer to him, momentarily blinding him. He felt his chest tighten, as if the very space around him were being compressed just enough to keep him from breathing.
“You are a specimen… interesting to observe…”
The archangel’s mind buzzed violently at your words; the air was slowly beginning to slip from his lungs, yet he still made his best effort to answer you.
“Interesting…?” he repeated, not even knowing why he did so. His voice came out weak, and yet you heard him perfectly. You always did.
“There are some questions I will not answer, Gabriel.”
Gabriel felt a tight knot in his throat. The way you pronounced his name unsettled him in a way he couldn’t begin to describe. It wasn’t mockery, but it wasn’t tenderness either; it was attention…
Attention from something that should not be giving it to him, and that unsettled him even more.
The air remained heavy, and his wings trembled despite being folded against his back, as if they wished to cling to his cold, numb body. He wanted to speak—he needed more answers—but he also knew, deep within his very being, that every question he asked would bring him one step closer to losing his sanity.
And yet… Curiosity was beginning to itch at him.
“What… do you plan to do with me?”
Silence returned, but this time it wasn’t deafening… It was contemplative.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
The archangel did not answer immediately after your words; only the faint, ragged sound of his breathing replied to you.
Gabriel was gasping without realizing it, as if the very oxygen were farther away than it should be; his breath was swallowed by that endless, dark expanse. His mind clung to any thought, any logic, any truth that could make him react, but every time he formed something, it unraveled inside him, as if reality itself rejected it.
Gabriel struggled to hear.He struggled to think. His mind was dimming little by little, and although he wanted to resist, he no longer knew if he was truly dying… or merely delirious.
“[Your Name]…” he called, weakly, his voice nothing more than a trembling thread.
Maybe he wanted to cling to your presence. Maybe he wanted to beg for more time. Or maybe he simply didn’t want you to leave him alone.
But what he received in return was what finally stole the last bit of air remaining in his lungs.
“Rest, Gabriel…”
“You’ve earned it.”
The archangel’s body collapsed immediately onto the ground of that place.
_________________________________________
When Gabriel woke up, he did so with such a violent gasp that he practically choked for a second time on his own breath. He coughed, wheezed, and searched for air as if emerging from the deepest part of an ocean.
His body trembled faintly, but it was warm—warm enough that the cold he had felt before might as well have never existed.
With effort, he forced himself to sit up, until he realized that his hands were touching something soft… Was that soil he was touching?
His gaze lifted from the ground, only to witness a green landscape stretching as far as his eyes could reach. Trees, gentle hills, and an open, clear sky with no clouds in sight.
Was he… on Earth?
There were no ruins of what humanity had done to it, no scattered machine bodies. It was a different Earth—one he had not seen in a very long time.
Beside Gabriel, Justice and Splendor lay resting—clean, untouched, as if everything he had lived through had been nothing but a dream… or a nightmare.
You were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps you had left… or perhaps you never truly did.
Warning: Possessive and protective behavior from Gabriel. The reader is pregnant.
English is not my first language, I apologize if it is not understandable.
To do this, I had to use the translator.
The sun was shining warmly on the streets of the small town, bathing the landscape before you in golden colors as you made your way slowly towards the fair that was being organized a few blocks from the heart of the place. Your prominent belly made it difficult for you to see your feet, which on more than one occasion during the journey drew a frustrated sigh from you. In that advanced state of pregnancy, the simple tasks you used to do had almost always become a total challenge for you and your bulging belly.
But even when you couldn’t see your feet, that would never stop you from going outside—especially not when Gabriel was away from you, busy with his duties as “The Will of God” or “The Judge of Hell” and blah blah blah; you never understood why he had so many titles, and with such ridiculous names…
You slowly shook your head; you shouldn’t be mocking or saying that the titles Gabriel had earned were ridiculous… After all, he is your husband and the father of your child. He probably earned those titles through great effort, and there you were, saying that what might have taken him years—or even longer—meant nothing just because the title sounded silly when spoken aloud.
A long sigh escaped you as you wiped a bit of sweat from your forehead and continued walking at your slow pace, courtesy of the extra weight you carried. At least you were glad to have some time to yourself; it was one of the few chances you had to enjoy a moment of freedom without Gabriel’s constant and almost suffocating supervision. And as you kept moving forward, you couldn’t help but drift into your thoughts again, recalling the surreal turn your life had taken.
Leaving the city, where you had been working hard as a simple office worker, had been a difficult decision after all the effort you put into leaving the rural area where you grew up. But it had been inevitable; the pregnancy had forced you to abandon everything—your career, your apartment, and, though it was hard to admit, your independence as well. You remembered with a certain bitterness having to sell most of your belongings simply because you couldn’t take them with you; it had hurt more than you wanted to admit.
When you arrived and knocked on the door of your old home, your mother was the first to greet you. There had been a clear look of surprise on her face when she came face to face with you, and that same expression—one you still remembered—always managed to bring a small smile to your lips. Life in that small town hadn’t changed at all since you left, but unlike that little place where you grew up, your life had changed—irreversibly so.
Before Gabriel, your life had been simple—normal. You were just one among the great crowd of the city, another citizen who woke up early to go to work, another person who sometimes forgot her umbrella or her coat when she was in too much of a hurry to leave; you were just another trying to get ahead in life. But then he appeared—an archangel. At first, you couldn’t understand why someone like Gabriel, with such a divine presence, had taken an interest in you. You weren’t even the most devout daughter of the Father—you were an adult, skeptical about that kind of religious belief. From the very beginning, everything about it felt surreal.
You couldn’t deny that Gabriel’s invisible presence always watching you was unsettling. He was always there, following you everywhere, though at least he was respectful enough not to follow you into the bathroom or when you were changing clothes. Eventually, you got used to feeling him near, knowing he was always watching from somewhere—and there wasn’t much you could do about it.
Although things escalated too quickly between the two of you in a short time, not even in your wildest delusions did you ever come to imagine or think about marrying an archangel, a figure that in the Bible was described as a being of purity and holiness... and even less about having sex with one.
You thought everything would go back to normal after each encounter between you two; sure, now you were married to a damn archangel, but surely that wouldn’t affect your life in any real way… until you started feeling unwell, and with that came the news that you were pregnant. Your body was now carrying a hybrid between human and angel. Just thinking about it overwhelmed you, plunging you into a whirlwind of emotions. What would it mean to raise such a child? What role would you play as a mother in a situation so far from ordinary?
You shook your head to chase those thoughts away; you had already accepted that your life would never return to normal, and though that realization sometimes depressed you, you also knew you weren’t completely alone. The town was a peaceful place, as quiet as you remembered from your childhood, and your family was now closer to you. But Gabriel’s presence—usually invisible and almost omnipresent—had left an emptiness in his absence. That very absence, however, was what had “allowed” you to be there, walking and about to reach your destination.
The laughter and chatter of many people gathered in one place began to reach your ears as you continued walking at your slow pace. You welcomed the distraction; the lively energy of the townsfolk made you feel less lonely, even though no one knew the truth behind your peculiar situation. You had learned to live with Gabriel’s demanding routine and his brief absences for divine duties that, according to him, were never interesting to talk about… But still, that day you had decided to go out, taking advantage of your time alone.
As you looked around at the colorful stalls and the familiar faces of the people passing by, you couldn’t help but take a deep breath of fresh air; you were savoring the freedom—however temporary—of the moment. You knew Gabriel probably wouldn’t be pleased to find out you had gone out during his absence, but for now, you preferred not to think about that.
The fair was full of life, yet you still felt Gabriel’s absence deep within your being; even though you enjoyed your time alone, something inside you remained on edge, as if waiting for his return at any moment. You knew that once you were back in his arms, he would watch over you even more closely—almost to the point of suffocation with his protection…
_________________________________________
The festive atmosphere of the fair faded from your mind as you walked as fast as your current state allowed; your hurried steps left behind the laughter and the vibrant colors. You knew you had crossed an invisible line after spending a brief moment with an old high school friend—it had been a mistake, one you would regret having made. You could feel the weight of Gabriel’s watchful gaze burning into your back; it was heavy, and you could swear it scorched. The further you walked away, the tighter the tension in your chest grew, mixing with your quickening heartbeat and the faint movement of the baby within you.
You were a safe distance from the fair when you felt large, firm hands settle on your shoulders. The physical contact alone was enough to make you stop immediately—you didn’t dare turn to face Gabriel. His grip wasn’t harsh, yet it carried a clear message: there would be no escaping his scrutiny.
He remained silent for a few seconds, as if assessing what he had just witnessed. You could feel his presence so close that the air around him seemed to grow thicker. Gabriel’s stillness was as intimidating as any shouted reprimand; you knew he wouldn’t leave you in peace until he had an explanation.
“Is it customary in this town” Gabriel’s voice was low and tightly controlled, sending a shiver down your spine, “for your old acquaintances to take you by the arm as if they had any right to do so?”
You swallowed hard, not daring to turn on your heels, yet you answered softly, trying to keep your voice calm.
“Gabriel… Samuel is just a friend from high school. It’s nothing—just a conversation between old acquaintances. I didn’t think he would…” Your words trailed off as you felt Gabriel’s grip on your shoulders loosen only slightly; the tension still lingered, as if he were processing every movement, every breath you took.
Gabriel straightened a little behind you, and you could feel his breath brush against your ear, making your skin prickle at the sensation.
“Nothing, you say?” he replied, his tone laced with disbelief and possessiveness. “That man should not have dared to touch you. And you… should not have allowed it.”
His voice was soft, but you could hear the clear undercurrent of danger beneath it, as though beneath that composed calm of his, a storm was waiting to break. Gabriel remained behind you, his hands still resting on your shoulders—a reminder of his protective, yet suffocating presence. You tried to steady yourself with a deep breath before answering, though you couldn’t help but frown when your own voice came out trembling all the same.
“Gabriel… there’s no reason for you to worry. The father of my child is the one standing beside me, not him…” You knew that sometimes you had to appeal to logic, no matter how flimsy it sounded—after all, Gabriel was deeply loyal, and that loyalty, though overwhelming at times, was your best chance of diffusing the situation you had found yourself in.
A silence settled between the two of you until Gabriel finally seemed to calm down, though he didn’t remove his hands from your shoulders. Instead, he gently guided you to turn around so you could face him. You had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze, the height difference between you forcing you to look up. His helmet remained as expressionless as the first time you saw it. He was still clad in his armor—a clear sign that he truly had been attending to his duties. After all, he would never appear before his superiors wearing the clothes you had made for him.
You did, however, notice the absence of Justice and Splendor, which brought you a small sense of relief, knowing he hadn’t come in a fit of rage to harm your old friend. Still, you were well aware that Gabriel was strong enough to kill a grown man with nothing but his hands—or with a single, forceful blow.
“My dear…” he began, his tone now softer, almost syrupy. “You don’t understand how much you mean to me—or how much our child means to me. I won’t allow anyone to approach you that way. And I will never let anyone threaten the family we’ve built.”
Gabriel then moved one of his hands to your belly, caressing it with a tenderness that starkly contrasted the intensity he had shown only moments before.
Your gaze dropped to Gabriel’s hand resting on your belly as you tried to calm the unease growing in your chest. For a moment, you allowed yourself to rest your head against the metal of his breastplate, recognizing the sense of safety his presence brought you.
Gabriel, satisfied with your quiet submission, wrapped his arms around you in an embrace that, under any other circumstance, might have been comforting. As you held onto your husband’s embrace, you felt his hand move to your head; his fingers tangled gently in your hair—a habit he had developed long ago.
“Let’s go, my dear” he murmured softly against you. “You don’t need the fair when you already have everything you need with me.”
You didn’t argue. You simply let him guide you, knowing that this was your life.
Warning: Gabriel acting a bit strange with a sleeping reader
English is not my first language, I apologize if it is not understandable.
To do this, I had to use the translator.
The door shut with a dull thud behind you; more from the weight of your exhausted body than any real intention.
The day had been complete chaos. One of those days where fatigue clings to your bones and every thought narrows down to "I just want to sleep."
There was no dinner, no shower— you didn’t even bother to change out of the clothes you’d worn all day. You simply dragged your feet across the floor, dropping your things in the first empty corner of your room.
Your bag landed on the ground, your coat half-hanging from the back of a chair. Even taking your shoes off seemed like too much work; they remained awkwardly halfway removed.
You collapsed onto your bed, crumpling the blankets beneath you. You didn’t bother to move them to cover yourself properly— you simply lay there, sprawled across your soft mattress.
And as your breathing grew slower and deeper, sleep began to wrap around you with its warm, quiet embrace.
The silence in the room was thick but comforting, broken only by the faint hum of household electronics and the distant murmur of the city.
You barely stirred, already drifting into the world of dreams, hugging a pillow far too big for your body.
And it was in that moment— between the small, vulnerable space that existed between your dreams and your silent room— that the atmosphere changed drastically.
A glowing shadow took form in the doorway, barely touching the ground, until a full figure emerged.
Gabriel was there.
Standing at the edge of your bed.
Watching you.
A soft glow bathed the room, cast by Gabriel’s halo and his blue wings, gently caressing the walls, the floor, and the face of the one he couldn’t stop looking at.
The slow but steady rhythm of your breathing caused your chest to rise and fall.
The faint furrow in your brow, as if even in your dreams you still had things to do.
A rebellious strand of hair falling across your face, brushing the corner of your lips…
You were…
Human.
So imperfect, so fragile— and yet, something about you had ensnared him from the very moment his eyes first met yours. He couldn’t recall the context, or the excuse, but he remembered how everything around him had blurred the moment he saw you, how his heart began to beat erratically and his breath caught in his throat.
He shouldn’t be here.
He shouldn’t be watching you sleep like you were some kind of hidden miracle.
It made no sense.
He wasn’t supposed to feel anything.
Not for a being so… fleeting.
But he couldn’t help it.
His gaze traced every line of your face, every unconscious movement you made, as if trying to memorize you— fearing that if he looked away, even for a second, you might cease to exist.
"What is this that consumes me? This longing that stirs within me with no reason, no logic?"
I have faced and slain thousands—those who dared defy the word of the Holy Council. I am the righteous Hand of the Father, the Will of God...So why do I falter now at the sound of a mortal's peaceful breathing?
Gabriel's brow furrowed slightly as he continued watching you from the edge of your bed.
Why you? Why do you ensnare me so effortlessly, without a word, without even looking at me? What power lies within you that even I— anointed in the Father's Grace—cannot resist?
He moved, taking a slow step forward, careful not to make the floor creak beneath his weight and reveal his presence.
The soft light of his halo illuminated your face as he leaned slightly over your sleeping form, eventually lowering himself to one knee beside your bed.
A trembling sigh escaped his throat.
"Why did the Father make them so small?" he muttered to himself, the words more of a breath than a question.
From this new angle, he could see you more clearly—details hidden by distance and the shadows of night now came into view.
The faint circles beneath your eyes.The slow, gentle rise and fall of your chest with every breath.
His gaze dropped lower… to your slightly parted lips.
His breath hitched, a shiver running through him.
His hand—that hand which had wielded a sword with unwavering conviction countless times—now rose to brush his trembling thumb across your lips.
A fleeting touch.
Delicate.
Unnecessary, yet utterly irresistible.
His wings twitched behind him, a restrained movement that betrayed the turmoil within him.
He knew what he was doing.
He knew he shouldn’t.
He knew it all too well—
SNORE.
A sudden, raspy snore shattered his moment of reverie like a bell crashing to the floor.
Gabriel flinched, jerking back with a sudden, sharp sound as he moved too quickly; one of his wings even struck one of your shelves.
He froze on the spot.
Holding his breath, watching your sleeping face for any sign of movement.
Moments passed, each one endless for Gabriel, but you didn’t move. To his immense relief
He finally exhaled, the breath shaky and quiet. Still on one knee, he could feel his heart—or whatever was closest to one in him—pounding beneath his armor. His shoulders dropped slightly, tension giving way to a quiet, flustered surrender.
The blush on his cheeks, however, remained.
And so did the aching flutter in his chest.
He didn’t dare speak.
He simply looked at you for a few seconds longer, as if your very existence were a sweet kind of damnation.
And he knew.
He had to leave.
Now.
Before he did something else foolish.
But a sudden movement froze him in place again.
He watched as you shifted under your blankets, your brow furrowing slightly; a shiver ran down his spine.
Without fully opening your eyes, you rolled over, still half-asleep.
The cold air seeping in from the open window had stirred you awake.
With dragging steps, you got up and made your way toward the window to shut out the night breeze.
Your movements were sluggish, driven more by instinct than awareness.
By the time you reached it, Gabriel was already gone. He wouldn’t let a mere mortal see him in such a state.
Just as you were about to return to your bed, you noticed something you weren’t expecting to find.
There, resting beside your bed, was a long feather—faintly glowing with an ethereal shimmer.
Pale blue, with soft iridescent highlights that shifted subtly depending on the angle.
You bent down to pick it up, holding it between your fingers for a moment, examining it with a hint of confusion.
“Again...?” you murmured softly as you stood up.
“This is the fifth one this week.”
You turned slowly back toward your bed, but not before placing the feather on your nightstand—right next to the others.
Then you settled back into the warmth of your sheets, and with a soft yawn, let sleep take you once more.
He was watching you from across the room, arms crossed and that mechanical eyelid furrowed. In your arms rested a soft—and damn adorable—version of him.
You were cradling it like some kind of treasure, pressing your cheek against its face while letting out quiet little giggles.
You had kissed it.
Three times.
He had counted.
V2 felt a crackling jolt of electricity run down his spine. It was annoyance, yes—but also a ridiculous sting of jealousy he never thought he’d feel toward a scrap of fabric and cheap stuffing. He had seen everything: how you sat them beside you while eating, how you tucked it into bed before going to sleep, how you gently stroked that… that crude imitation of himself.
He had protected you, saved you more times than you could count. And this was your way of repaying him?
Without saying a word, he crossed the room with determined steps. He looked you straight in the eyes, grabbed the plushie, and yanked it out of your arms. Before you could protest, he flung it somewhere across the room without a second thought.
Then, without wasting time, he threw himself at you, hugging you tightly and pressing his face against your neck—a possessive, almost theatrical gesture.
You didn’t need a copy when you had the original right there with you. And he wasn’t going to let you forget it.
At first, rather than jealous of the attention the plushie version of him was getting, Gabriel seemed fascinated—he even asked to see it up close.
You handed it to him without a second thought. He held it gently in both hands. His eyes studied every detail: the white and gold chestplate of his armor, the pauldrons, the loincloth... even his wings were there—small and fluffy.
His own wings fluttered slightly behind him, almost unconsciously.
Cute, chubby, and soft.
A part of him couldn’t help but find it… charming.
After a moment, he returned it to you carefully. That’s when he noticed how lovingly you hugged it, how your lips kissed the plushie’s face with affection.
Something stirred within him—subtle, but uncomfortable.
He didn’t quite understand it, but he didn’t like it.
It wasn’t jealousy—or at least, he wouldn’t admit it easily—but the way you looked at that tiny version of him was starting to bother him more than it should.
He said nothing; instead, he moved to sit beside you on the couch. He watched you in silence as you pressed the plushie to your chest, so distracted, so excited.
That’s when his hands slid gently around your waist, pulling you effortlessly into his lap.
He heard you murmur his name, but he didn’t respond.
His arms wrapped around you completely—firm, warm—while his face rested softly against your shoulder.
The plushie ended up trapped between the two of you.
You were his. And no cloth replica could ever change that.
You didn’t even have to say anything—just holding that plush version of him was enough to trigger something inside V1.
And it wasn’t anything remotely cute.
He didn’t understand why that piece of fabric had your attention.
It didn’t shoot.
It didn’t bleed.
It didn’t do anything remotely useful.
And yet, you were cradling it in your arms like it was the eighth wonder of the world.
A soft, squishy version of him?
Seriously?
He looked at you, then at the plushie, then at you again.
And without warning, V1 lunged forward.
The sound of ripping fabric echoed through the room. The poor plush didn’t even get to exist properly before its head was torn clean off its shoulders.
He held it up like a war trophy… and then, without a shred of mercy, threw it out the window with enough force to make sure it never came back.
Mission accomplished.
Dominance restored.
He turned to you with the same intensity he’d used to destroy his stuffed double, and before you could say a word, he launched himself at you with all the grace of a washing machine falling from a second story.
“V1, get off me!”
But V1 had already declared victory. There was no room for rivals in this house—not even the plush kind.
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