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She first meets him in Egypt.
It’s the busiest she’ll ever be. The humans perfected sin, angering the Lord and leaving Michael on punishment duty. She has seven plagues to coordinate–not to mention the death of every firstborn in Egypt–along with planning the movement of the Third Sphere. There is work to do and she has no time to entertain the frivolous questions of other angels, let alone the whims of a stray demon.
And yet, Hell continues to be a thorn in her side. They send a Duke to scout Egypt and see what the fuss is, as if she’s there for pleasure rather than business.
She notices the evil aura first, darkening corners and alleys following her as she makes her way through the city. Anger and fear grow as the demon’s presence amplifies everything negative to cause a panic. Mostly by merely existing, she knows, but the thing about demons is that they love the chaos they create.
The fact that he lingers away from her is enough to keep her focused on her tasks. She’s worked with all of Heaven watching; this is nothing new or daunting.
Until he moves closer.
He steps up to her left side, watching her hand go to her sword and rest on the hilt, though neither of them falter in their movement. The demon matches her step for step as she continues her count of the houses and streets around her. She notes the children, the elderly, the animals. After her initial report, other angels would be sent to confirm the numbers, but diligence is a virtue, and she refuses to break first to entertain demons.
The tense silence continued for an entire street before the demon breaks.
“So, princess,” he grins. “All this drama for a little idolatry? Seems a bit much, especially for the great Archangel Michael.”
She doesn’t answer, but her fingers tighten on the sword hilt. She doesn’t have to reply. There’s work to do. There’s always work to do. After the affair is done, Gabriel would have a neat stack of paperwork on her desk. One quick strike and she could continue with her duties.
“They’ve enslaved Her favored people,” she answers instead. “The Pharaoh must answer for his crimes and the crimes of his forefathers.”
“Oh, he will,” the other dismisses. “He’s ours. And forefathers are already answering, don’t you worry.”
She glances at him. Bright orange glances back, the solemn color of Hellfire, assuring her that even in death, humanity could not escape punishment. She lets herself smile at that.
Her hand falls from her sword.
An odd demon, the one beside her. Most wouldn’t hesitate at the idea of a fight, even against her, even if it meant going back to Hell bloodied and bruised. This one hasn’t made any move to attack. Michael can’t even see a weapon, let alone the signs of a fight coming.
Still, there is a reason she is in Egypt. Business, not pleasure. There is still too much left to do, and it is the worst possible time for distractions, even if she’d prefer a fight over inventory duty.
“You should leave,” she says. To his credit, he doesn’t look offended by her words, just lets her continue. “In a few days, there will be more angels than humans here. Not an ideal place for a demon.”
“Right, ‘course,” he says easily. “Bad timing. I’ll catch you when there are less angels around next time.”
That was not what she meant, she tries to say. She isn’t inviting the demon for a next time. She was merely suggesting that he leave before some Principality catch sight of him and make quick use of their sword.
He’s gone before she could correct him.
She didn’t even catch his name, she later realizes.
But there are too many demons to keep track of, and she rarely has reason to come down to Earth.
She might’ve been distracted by work in the moment, but she promises herself to remember their opposing sides the next time she encounters a demon.
The two walk step in step, surveying Rome with a disdain that was perfect for a demon and less fitting for an angel.
One meeting turned into two, and Michael forgot her promise of remembering sides. Well, she would reason if anyone asked, she remembers that the two of them are on opposite sides. She just doesn’t let that interfere with creating connections that benefit Heaven.
The two meet on Earth, exchanging information that neither Gabriel or Beelzebub would be willing to share. Michael isn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty, and Ligur takes any opportunity to climb down the ranks in Hell and into Beelzebub’s favor.
Business, they tell anyone who questions them. Not pleasure, she lies, hands properly folded in front of her and looking down at whoever is questioning an Archangel.
“I heard he already killed his mother,” Ligur says. “It’s in Crowley’s reports.”
“A pity. He’s already yours, then.”
Not that she expects anything else. Emperors, pharaohs, kings, they all have the same fate. Power corrupts, and even good intentions die in the face of gold.
Still. A good excuse for the two of them to meet.
The marketplace buzzes as the Romans set up shop and prepare for a feast. The two of them weave around the shopkeepers and customers, never falling out of step. She keeps her eyes forward when Ligur grabs an apple from a stall. There’s no point in reprimanding a demon.
“So, princess, Gabby change your schedule yet? Or are you still thinking of killing him?”
Her hands tighten in front of her, her companion eyeing her and already knowing the answer. The topic came up during their last two meetings. The nickname is just as familiar, if not more, an inside joke more than an insult.
“Gabriel always works for Heaven’s best interest,” she answers diplomatically. A mistake, because she couldn’t stop her next words. “Even if he’s wrong and does not understand that training sessions cannot be in 30-minute increments! He hasn’t held a sword in centuries and thinks he can dictate my schedule? I’d like to see him oversee the cherubim’s training.”
Ligur smirks. “Oh yeah, he’s got nothing on you. Still not sure how he’s in charge.”
She refuses to rise to that bait. “What was Crowley’s reward for that Caligula business? Surely something big.”
Ligur curses, tossing the apple to the side.
She listens to him rant, mentally filing away any important information to pass on to Gabriel later. She has her own information to give to Ligur once he finishes.
Business, she lies to others, but not to herself. She knows the nature of their relationship, and she holds that information close to her chest.
An angel and a demon sit across from each other in what could be called a study if they ever read there. The books were for show, and she wasn’t even sure if the pages inside had words. Needing a more permanent meeting place, the room was a compromise between the two. It was filled with books and trinkets as Ligur enjoyed having clutter, and Michael made sure every book and trinket had a proper place.
Soon, the conversation would turn serious.
At the moment, they let themselves fall into old memories.
“You didn’t even tell me your name before you disappeared,” Michael accuses.
“You never asked,” Ligur says back. “Was the great Archangel Michael distracted?”
“Of course not,” she lies. Time made the memory fuzzy, but she knows her curiosity stayed her hand that day. “It was a busy time. I had work to do.”
“You’re always working. You’re working right now.”
“Diligence is a virtue,” she recites, just to see the look of disgust on his face.
But he has a point. There’s always work, especially for her. Meetings with Ligur always ended in work so she has an excuse to keep seeing him.
There’s a reason they’re meeting today. The countdown to The End is in the final years. Hell currently has the cards, and she needs to know more, needs to know the information that even Beelzebub wouldn’t tell Gabriel in official documents.
After that, they can ease back into jokes and teasing.
“Now, about the AntiChrist–”
Michael doesn’t go to Earth again.
The official reason is that, with the Apocalypse canceled, there’s too much work in Heaven. Re-structuring, Gabriel calls it. No one knows what exactly is being restructured, and it certainly isn’t the current chain of command. All Michael knows is that he’s just as shaken as the rest of them and needs paperwork to distract him.
The unofficial reason burrows itself into her chest, refusing to let her breathe, choking her when she’s alone and has no reason to keep up appearances. They never put a word on it, and she wasn’t sure there was a word to accurately describe it. All she knows is that someone dear to her is gone, and no one else will ever know.
She doesn’t go back to their old meeting grounds, doesn’t go looking for ghosts. Demons don’t have an afterlife.
So, she stays in her office in Heaven, entertaining Gabriel’s need for busywork, letting herself get distracted by the flow of papers and signatures.
There isn’t anything on Earth for her anymore.