He was at his Villa. The night sky glistened with a thousand little diamonds shimmering in the white light of the full moon. Michael stood barefoot on the balcony, wearing only his training pants. Music and laughter rose from the Agora as the celebration continued. He peered down at the merriment, wishing he could join in the fun as easily as the others. 

"You know nothing is stopping you from going down there, right?"

A winged presence appeared in front of Michael. It came closer and stepped onto the ledge of the balcony. Michael looked up. It was his best and most trusted friend - LightBringer. He was dressed in full training gear. Curious... Had they trained together? Michael couldn't remember.

"I wanted to check on you after you left our training session so abruptly," said LightBringer, as if reading Michael's mind. "Why are you here alone? Why not enjoy yourself for a while? All the other Archangels are there." 

"I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen. Better that one of us keeps an eye out." Michael smiled and gestured to the Agora. "You can go if you want, LightBringer. I would not want to deprive you of your own amusement."

"First, do not call me LightBringer," said the Archangel. "Second, others can keep watch. It does not always have to be you."

"The Almighty made me Lord Protector. It does have to be me."

"Good grief... And you dare call me stubborn."

Michael couldn't help but smile again as his friend stepped off the ledge to stand with him.

"You are stubborn," he said. "The most stubborn of us all. But I suppose one amongst us had to be. So why not you, LightBringer?"

"I have asked you not to call me that," reacted LightBringer sternly. "It is my title, but not my true name."

"Forgive me... Lucifer."

Lucifer nodded in approval. A twinkle appeared in his dark eyes. Michael's heart inexplicably skipped a beat when he caught it. Lucifer leaned against the ledge of the balcony and looked down.

"It does look like a nice celebration," he said. "We could go for an hour or so. Just to show our faces."

"You go if you wish it," said Michael. "I must stay here."

"Oh, very well then."

He held out his hands, and two goblets of wine appeared in them. Michael's surprised look as Lucifer handed him one made the raven-haired Archangel laugh.

"What? Just because we are staying up here does not mean we cannot have a drink."

Michael accepted the goblet gratefully and nipped the sweet wine. He wouldn't admit it, but he was glad of Lucifer's company. Other Archangels were close friends, such as the physician, Raphael, or God's Messenger, Gabriël, but it was different with Lucifer. There was a strange connection between them. They could find each other from miles away. One could feel when the other was hurt or upset and would instantly appear to offer support. Sometimes, they even finished each other's sentences.

"Looks like Gabriël has found yet another to amuse himself with tonight."

Lucifer's voice brought Michael back to the moment. He followed his friend's gaze. Gabriël walked along the edge of the Agora, his arm around the shoulders of a petite brunette. 

"He will never change." Michael tsk-ed, disapprovingly.

"Now, now, he may yet surprise you," said Lucifer. "There is more to the Messenger than simply good looks."

Michael knew Lucifer was right. Gabriël was indeed more than anyone believed him to be. His kind, selfless, caring nature was a rarity among the Archangels. If only he would spend a little less time fooling... around. Wait, that... that wasn't right. Was it? 
Michael blinked and saw Gabriël walking away from the Agora - alone. The brown-haired girl was nowhere to be seen. But when he blinked again, she was walking beside Gabriël once more. What just...? 

"Something wrong?" The hint of worry in Lucifer's voice made Michael meet his concerned look.

"I thought I... Hm, never mind."

His eyes must've deceived him. Or maybe it had been a trick of the bonfire's light and the ensuing shadows. Whatever it was, clearly, he was more tired than he thought. Michael turned away from the scene and entered his bed-chamber, leaving his wine goblet on a table in passing. He soaked a towel in the water basin and dabbed his face with it. The cool sensation felt nice. 
Soft footsteps resonated through the room. When he looked up, he saw Lucifer enter from the balcony. The moonlight behind him created an ethereal glow around the Archangel's figure. It was... so beautiful. Michael shook his head, quickly dispelling the daze that crashed over him. What kind of training had he and Lucifer been doing that he was so out of it?

"Michael, now that we are alone," said Lucifer hesitantly, "there is something I have been meaning to say for some time now. I just never knew how."

"What is it?"  

"I have certain... feelings." Lucifer bit his lip. "I want us to be... more."

"More? In what way?"

"More than... being friends and brothers-in-arms."

Michael raised his brow in confusion. What was Lucifer saying? How could they be more than that? 

"Michael, I want to... I believe I... Oh, to Hell with it!" Lucifer covered the distance between them in a few determined strides and took hold of Michael's face.

"Lucifer! What are y-?"

He was silenced by the hard push of Lucifer's lips onto his. Michael's eyes widened. He struggled, grabbing Lucifer's wrists to pry him off. This couldn't happen. This shouldn't happen! But the longer the kiss lasted, the more difficult it became for Michael to believe that. Having Lucifer's lips against his felt oddly... good. Wonderful, even. 
Their mouths separated. Lucifer leaned his forehead against Michael's, eyes closed. Michael wished he would open them.  

"This," whispered Lucifer with a broken voice, as if he was in pain. "I want this."

"We cannot," Michael whispered back at him, still slightly taken aback at what had occurred.

"Why not?" Lucifer finally met Michael's gaze. "Please, tell me."

Michael's mouth opened and closed again. Why not, indeed. No one had ever said they couldn't be with each other. Like all angels in the Vale, Archangels were free to be with someone if they wished. They could even take a mortal lover if they desired one. 

"I do not understand," spoke Michael softly. "Why did you not come to me sooner?"

"I feared your answer," Lucifer admitted weakly. "I feared you would turn me away and hate me for wanting this with you."

Michael stared at Lucifer. He usually appeared so strong, so self-assured... It was the first time Michael considered him fragile. Why had Lucifer never told him any of this? And why, in God's name, had he never noticed Lucifer felt this way for him? 

"I can never hate you, Lucifer," said Michael. "You mean so much to me, and I am at peace when I am around you. I just... never thought that you would want me like that."

A voice in Michael's head suddenly warned him of the danger of following this path. It cautioned him to think this through. He ignored it. For the only reason that really mattered at this moment — following his heart's desire.

"I... I am not good with emotions, as you know. The entire concept of love and intimacy is something I do not understand. Yet despite that, I have always felt this... longing. I am not sure what I long for exactly, but I do know that it only gets stronger when I am around you. Lucifer, I... I believe I want you too."

Lucifer gasped at his words. Michael pulled him closer when he noticed Lucifer's eyes travelling to his mouth. He hesitated for the briefest moment. The voice in his head warned him again. But just like before, Michael cast any trepidations aside. Consequences be damned. 
They kissed. Lucifer's lips tasted sweet from the wine he had drunk. It made Michael crave more. The tip of his tongue tentatively traced those honeyed lips. Lucifer hummed in appreciation. He parted his lips a sliver, letting his tongue dart out quickly. The short push against Michael's tongue triggered a quaint rush of heat through his body. Michael let his fingers tangle into the other Archangel's black hair. If he had been able to press himself even closer to Lucifer, he would have done so. He wanted to feel every part of him. He wanted Lucifer's kisses, his touch, his... God, he just wanted all of him!

Lucifer abruptly gripped Michael by his arms and threw him onto the bed. Michael quickly pushed himself up, but froze when he saw Lucifer remove his padded tunic. His breath caught as the moonlight captured Lucifer's athletic physique. Truly one of God's best creations.
And those eyes... The darkness within them drew Michael in as if he had fallen under a spell that would devastate him once he succumbed. Like Eve had given in to the honeyed words spoken by his silver tongue, Michael would give in to everything Lucifer offered. There was no escaping it.

Lucifer threw his tunic on the floor and climbed onto the bed. He hovered over Michael and kissed the corner of his mouth. His chest was still inches away, yet Michael could sense both their hearts beating fast. Another kiss, on his lips this time. 
Michael wrapped his arms around Lucifer. The sensation of his warm body felt amazing. Familiar, somehow. He trailed Lucifer's back with his fingertips until he felt the spot where his wings were hidden below the shoulders. He pressed the skin concealing them. Lucifer groaned in their kiss. Michael smiled against his lover's lips; he knew that would happen. But... how? 
Lucifer continued to assault his mouth. Michael let it go on for a few seconds, enjoying the fiery passion in their kiss, before he dug his nails into Lucifer's shoulder blades. Lucifer's body spasmed. He pulled away, panting heavily. Lust-filled obsidian eyes locked with Michael's then.

"Do that again," he growled.

"With pleasure," Michael breathed, before pulling Lucifer down on him.

The Archangels kissed each other greedily. Their tongues swirled around each other the moment Lucifer pushed into Michael's mouth. The taste and touch of Lucifer's lips, every sweet but sensual caress he gave, and every sound he uttered fuelled Michael's thirst, making him beg for more. It didn't take long for the rest of their clothes to get discarded, and they lay one on top of the other, completely naked.
In the brief glance Lucifer allowed him to take as he'd stripped, Michael had seen all of him. The sight of his long, thick, erect shaft awoke something deep within Michael. Something he never knew he could feel – an urgent yearning that screamed for immediate satisfaction.
Lucifer moved down, his lips and hands trailing Michael's body. The lower he went, the more Michael's heart pounded uncontrollably. He dared to look down as Lucifer pushed apart his legs. The tip of those nimble fingers traced Michael's member gingerly, all the way up to the head. It stirred every fibre of his being.

"What you said before... I assume you've never done this?" Lucifer threw Michael a seductive glance. 

"I... N-No, I..." The question made Michael too flustered to speak.

"Not even with a woman?" prompted Lucifer. "I don't think I've ever seen you with one."

Michael pressed his lips together and averted his gaze from Lucifer. He should've guessed this would stand between them. Though some had tried to get close to him, the brave and powerful Lord Protector, Michael had never given into any advances. Whereas Lucifer, desired by all in the Vale and the Mortal Realm, was happy to give his full attention to any who sought it. Men or women, it didn't matter to him. He was the temptation no one could resist.
Maybe that's what Michael was to him - temptation. One he sought to satisfy. And one he could walk away from as soon as he'd had him. It had been nothing else with the others. Lucifer had had his fair share of lovers, and very few had warmed his bed more than once. Why would it be different with him?
Lucifer moved back up. He cupped Michael's face, turning his head back to him. His enchanting eyes took hold of Michael. It was so easy to get lost in them. 

"I was hoping no one had had you. No one will ever have you. None but me. You're mine, Michael. Only mine."

The words echoed through Michael, etching themselves in his heart. Lucifer moved swiftly to position himself better between Michael's thighs. His fingers closed around Michael's shaft, drawing a surprised gasp. Michael felt himself harden, moaning in reaction to every firm yet gentle kneading stroke. But it wasn't enough. His body screamed for more.

"Lucifer, please," pleaded Michael. "N-Need you."

"Do you, now?" Lucifer chuckled against Michael's skin in amusement. "And how do you need me, Michael? Do you need me to continue playing with you? Or would you like me to use my mouth instead? Maybe you want to use yours on me, hm? Suck each other off until we have nothing left to spend? Or maybe... you need me to fuck you."

Lucifer rolled his hips against Michael as he jerked harder. Michael whimpered and nodded fervently. He could no longer bear this teasing. 

"Very well," said Lucifer, letting go of Michael. "I hadn't quite expected this to happen, if I'm honest, so I'm afraid I came unprepared. I'll have to improvise." 

He sat back on his knees, spat into his hand a few times, and stroked himself. Michael leaned onto his elbows and watched on in fascination. He swallowed when he caught sight of a pearly white substance at the tip of Lucifer's shaft. The raven-haired Archangel rolled his thumb over the head a few times to make it mix with the saliva. 

"Lie back and fold your knees."

Michael did as he was told and waited with bated breath. Lucifer's arms hooked on his knees, pulling Michael closer to him. Doubt seized hold of Michael. What was he doing? They had barely talked about what being together would mean for them. Maybe they shouldn't be this intimate just yet.

"Lucifer, I -"

But his words were cut short as Lucifer pushed inside him. Michael threw his head back and gripped the sheets underneath him. He bit his lip, trying to endure the initial shock and discomfort as best as he could. But the more Lucifer stretched him, the more it hurt. A strained yelp escaped him. Lucifer instantly held off.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned. "Do you need me to pull out?"

Unable to speak, Michael shook his head. If Lucifer removed himself now, he didn't think he'd be able to try again. They'd gone this far already. Better to see it through.
Michael took a deep breath and closed his eyes, willing himself to dismiss the pain. When he felt a soft caress on his cheek, he opened them and met Lucifer's loving gaze. 

"Look at me," he whispered. "Hear my voice. Feel my touch. Focus on me and nothing else."

Dark eyes captured Michael. The alluring voice beguiled him. And titillating sensations took hold of his core. An inexplicable but comforting warmth spread through his body. Slowly but surely, the pain dissipated, leaving him with the most remarkable feeling of... euphoria. Michael smiled and nodded. He was ready.
Lucifer kissed him tenderly, smothering a light groan as he began to move. The steady swaying motions, back and forth, in and out, made Michael's heart stop and his eyelids flutter. His body responded to Lucifer's, taking all of him in. More - he wanted more. 
The Archangels' naked bodies entangled with each other as their love game grew fiercer. Their beings reshaped as two halves of the same heart, beating furiously and with a greater love than any had ever thought possible. At least, that is how it felt for Michael. 

Overcome with rapture, Michael and Lucifer explored every inch of each other. They refused to let go of their all-consuming passion, and they refused to be the first to give in to the other. Every kiss, every touch, every fierce thrust sealed their vow – you are mine, I am yours. 
By the time they did finally part, the sun had risen. They lay beside one another with heaving chests, sweat glistening on their bodies in the first rays of the morning sun. Michael rested his head on Lucifer's shoulder, laying one hand on his chest. He felt his lover's pulse slowing underneath his palm. Oddly enough, it was perfectly in pace with his own. 

"Promise me we will always be together, Lucifer."

"Only if you promise me we will always love each other, Michael."

"Always, my Morning Star. Always."

Lying in Lucifer's arms, Michael waited for the sleep that never came. For the dream that never began. Slowly, he felt Lucifer's body disappear, his bed, his room, the Villa... all was gone.
And in that final waking moment before darkness gripped him, one lingering thought remained – had that been the dream?

***

Lucifer walked down the dark hallways of his palace to Borgia's room after reassuring himself his blood had indeed taken hold of Michael's mind. He had let events happen just as they had all those years ago, only changing a slight detail about Gabriël, but nothing too important. It had gone perfectly as planned, but at the same time, it was a disaster.
Lucifer hadn't expected the memory to have such a sound effect on him as well. Even after seventeen centuries, after everything that had happened, he would never deny he had truly been in love with Michael. And he was certain Michael had loved him as well. Just... not enough to let him go. 

I can't allow myself to linger on the good times I had with Michael. Those can't compare to all the heartache he's put me through. All the centuries of planning cannot go to waste because of sentiment. He has to pay. 

As he pondered on his next move, Lucifer turned into a corridor and caught Borgia's strike team leaving their commander's room. When they saw him approach, they all bowed. The only woman among them curtsied to the floor and remained there until Lucifer halted before them. He glared at all of them before settling his gaze on Bathory.

"Countess, await my return outside my chamber. We have further business to attend to."

"Yes, my Lord."

She rose and scurried past him. None of the men dared look Lucifer directly in the eye.

"Gentlemen, you may return to your duties." He waved them away.

Gilles de Rais bowed again and left first. The obscure Ripper, ever dressed in his top hat and black coat, simply inclined his head. He followed close behind his teammate, leaving Lucifer left alone with the Impaler. Vlad Tepes III, Prince of Wallachia, had been the inspiration for the monster Bram Stoker had created. If only the author had bothered to learn the truth about the man.
No matter how often he met with Tepes, Lucifer couldn't get a clear image of him. The Impaler had arrived in the Circles about three months after his death, immediately requesting an audience with the Devil. Lucifer, curious at the unexpected and willing arrival of a Fallen Angel, had granted him one. Tepes told him he had come to 'honour the pact', recounting a promise he had made to both God and the Devil whilst he'd been a prisoner of the Ottoman Empire. If either granted him the strength and the means to be free of his captors and take back Wallachia, he would dedicate himself to that power. Even in death.
Tepes had always believed it was by the Grace of the Lord that he'd been able to do the things he had done, even if they had been beyond cruel. Only in death had he understood it hadn't been God who'd given him that power. So he cut his own wings and had come down to the Circles to serve his true deliverer.
Lucifer had always doubted that's what really happened, but until now, he'd found nothing that proved otherwise. The man kept mostly to himself but served him diligently, no questions asked. Perhaps it would have been better to put Tepes in charge instead of Borgia. He still might.

"Was there something you wished to say, Tepes?" inquired Lucifer.

"May I speak plainly, my Lord?"

"Go ahead."

"In my army, when a soldier went rogue and pursued his own desire above that of his Prince, he was tortured and made an example of. If signore Borgia had done what he did under my command, he would have already been impaled and put on display before the palace door."

"Believe me, the thought crossed my mind. But for now, this will suffice to keep our friend in check." Lucifer showed Tepes the little box in his hand. He bowed forward and whispered, "I trust you to keep an eye on Borgia when I free him from his confinement; him and the rest of your troupe. De Rais is harmless, but the Ripper may prove to be a problem as well."

"And the Blood Countess?" asked Tepes.

"She's to leave the Circles for a special task. I will have someone else watching her. If there's nothing else, you may leave now. I must give our beloved general his present."

***

Cesare watched the devastation and horror of the Circles from his window. He usually revelled in the sight of it, but after what had happened, he feared his return to that place. Sure, he nearly always triumphed at everything that was thrown against him by sheer force of will, but the torture was never-ending. Only the briefest respite was granted once in a while. But that itself was torture too, for it sparked hope that perhaps the torment had finally ended. Hope was the most agonising thing to feel in Hell. 

"Enjoying the view, signore?"

Cesare spun around at hearing the Master's voice. How had he not heard him come in? He remembered protocol and bowed deeply. Fear crept inside him as he straightened himself again. Why had the Devil come?

"I have something for you," said the Master.

He placed a small box, no bigger than a matchbox, on top of the paper-littered table and took a seat. Cesare cautiously moved forward. He waited a moment before he took the box, half expecting it to explode or worse. With a fast-beating heart, Cesare removed the lid. He gasped at its contents.

"See this as a reminder that even you, signore," said the Master, "still have something to lose."

A chain made from three braided strands of gold lay in the box's heart. The ruby on the chain stared up at Cesare. He didn't have to turn it around to know the letter 'L' was engraved on the back. Nor did he have to open the jewel to read the inscription inside—Aut Caesar, aut nihil. Either Caesar or nothing. The Borgia family motto and a reminder that he alone would ever be good enough.

"Where did you get this?" his voice quivered as he looked at the Master.

"Where do you think? Now, what happens next is completely up to you, dear boy. From this moment, you will do as I say and when I say. You step out of line again, and I promise you that all the torture you've witnessed in the Circles will be nothing compared to what will happen to her."

"No, my Lord, please." Cesare stepped around the table and fell to his knees before the Master. "Don't harm her, I beg of you. Punish me for my mistakes and foolishness, but not my sister."

The Master lowered himself to Cesare's level. He kept his head low, fearing what would happen if he dared to even glance into those dark eyes.

"Obey me then," hissed the Devil. "Follow my orders. Stay away from Resia and anyone who has Boleyn blood in their veins. Play your part, and after the Final Battle is won, you have my word that you will be reunited with your precious Lucrezia. But if you fail me again, she will suffer the consequences. I promise you."

Cesare was pulled into a haze at the threat. The last clear thing he saw was the sinister grin in front of him. He never even noticed the Master leaving. His mind boggled with horrific scenes—Lucrezia in chains, enslaved, beaten... 

Lucrezia... Principessa...