Morpheus's anxiety grew with every minute the Devil remained in his presence. Why couldn't that fiend just leave? 

"Mustn't forget your other guest, Morpheus," Lucifer suddenly said casually

Jolted out of his petrified stupor, the Lord of Dreams stumbled to a big cord behind his throne. After pulling it three times, another maidservant appeared. Not nearly as pretty as the first, but still easy on the eye and far younger.

"Make up a room near the Fallen Angel's," barked Morpheus. "And be quick about it!"

The girl bowed and scurried away. The Countess' demonic eyes followed her hasty departure. Morpheus didn't like the way this creature was looking at his possession. 

"I will walk the grounds to ensure everything is secure," she then said.

"Yes, go ahead." Lucifer waved her away. "Oh, and Countess, a small reminder of our own agreement; care for Joan and see that nothing happens to her or the child. All your beauty will be returned to you if you accomplish your task. If not..."

Lucifer held his hand up and the decay from the Blood Countess's neck crept toward her face. Her eyes widened, and she panted heavily. When the Devil lowered his hand again, the rot disappeared. The Countess' breathing eased as well. She bowed deeply and left Morpheus to deal with her master alone.

"That seems like an interesting way to punish someone," said Morpheus without thinking.

"Perhaps you would like me to try it on you?" Lucifer grinned at him.

"No! No, that... won't be necessary."

"Relax, just a joke. I am allowed to make one from time to time."

Morpheus scoffed quietly. He didn't really see a joker in the Prince of Hell. He didn't see a lot of things in the man. Lucifer was one of the greatest mysteries Morpheus had ever encountered. And for one as old as him, that said something.

"I thank you again for your hospitality toward Joan and aid in the... other matter," continued Lucifer. "Do try to keep all my precious pawns in one piece in the next months."

Morpheus moaned miserably. Months with a pregnant girl, an Archangel he had no control over, that rotting demon and the Devil popping in and out of his Realm simply wouldn't do.

"Oh, cheer up, Morpheus. It's not that bad. If you want to manipulate time, as I know you sometimes do, and speed things along, I won't stop you. All I ask is you give me enough time to prepare for the birth."

"Hm, I suppose I could tweak things a bit," Morpheus mused aloud. "How far along is she?"

"I'm not sure, to be honest. Technically, she should only be about three weeks, but the slight swell of her belly and the way she moves make me think three months, maybe four." Lucifer noticed Morpheus' raised, inquisitive brow and clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Don't look at me like that. We are talking about a child conceived in the Vale, fathered by an Archangel. There was nothing normal about this pregnancy to begin with."

"And you still want me to mess with time? What if it goes too far, and she delivers right here? I am the Lord of Dreams, not the Lord of Babies! I have nothing here for that sort of thing!"

"Just do your part and accommodate Joan. Leave the rest to me."

With that, the Devil ended the discussion. He turned away and left the throne room. Morpheus followed, to reassure himself that Lucifer would truly depart from his domain. Halfway down the entrance steps, though, the Devil halted.

"The Horsemen?" he inquired, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

The Lord of Dreams sighed. "Nearly gone from this Realm. You do realise what you will unleash, don't you?"

"I am well aware of it, yes. I thought you'd be glad to be rid of them?"

"Oh, I am! Yet the Lord Protector said something that made me wonder."

"What was that?"

"Their victims will die empty shells. They'll be no good to any of us."

"I do not concern myself with mortals. I need the Horsemen out and at full strength. They will serve as a nice distraction for the angels. I can't have them interfering with anything else I plan, can I?"

Morpheus's face twisted at the Devil's words. If a distraction was the only purpose for the Horsemen, he feared what it was Lucifer truly had planned for his toys.

"Whatever you're up to, keep my domain out of it, you hear? If you dare bring any filth in here, I swear I'll —"

Suddenly, Morpheus felt a tight, choking sensation around his throat. It burned from the inside. For the slightest moment, he thought Lucifer was doing this to him. But then, from the corner of his eye, he saw her — the Countess.
Her eyes were blood-red, pulsing veins creeping around them, giving her a most terrifying mask. She stepped towards her master ever so slowly, never even blinking. The burning sensation spread through Morpheus's entire body. He was completely paralysed, unable to utter a single sound.

"You will do what I order you to do and nothing else." Lucifer's voice was icy. "As long as you do as I say, I have no reason to invade your domain. But if you threaten me again or lose the girl, her baby, or Michael, then what my lovely Countess is doing now will only be a small part of your punishment. You will suffer for all eternity. And that, Kyrios, is an awfully long time."

Morpheus fell to the floor like a lifeless rag doll. The veins around Bathory's eyes slowly faded. Her eyes still focused on the Lord of Dreams, who tried to regain his composure but trembled uncontrollably. It had been an exceptionally long time since anyone had made him feel this afraid. 

"I will take my leave of you then," said Lucifer. "My dear Countess, you have it all under control, I see. Make sure you keep it that way for everyone's sake here. But mainly for your own."

Bathory got down on her knees, not rising until Lucifer had descended from the steps and disappeared from sight. As she rose, she sneered at Morpheus. He was left on the ground, contemplating how on earth he got involved in this whole mess.

***

The room Morpheus provided for Joan wasn't so bad. Not as cosy as the one she had in the Sanctum, but at least there were more colours. And the bed was comfortable. She even had a small balcony overlooking the garden. The smell of poppies filled the air. It was the only thing that bothered Joan about this place. She recalled her mother's warning, 'Beware of poppies, ma fille. If they trap you in sleep, you will never awaken from the dreams they give'. It had never made sense to her — until now.
She saw Lucifer walking down the path in the garden. He turned and waved goodbye to her, a charming smile on his lips. Joan held up her hand but didn't really wave back. He was so different from anyone other man she had ever met. That previous physical attraction no longer plagued her, but she still found herself connected to him. After all, they were both Fallen Angels who lost everything because they fell in love.
Yet, unlike Lucifer, Joan hadn't been abandoned by her lover. And she would never allow the darkness to take such a hold over her the way it had Lucifer. At least, she liked to think she wouldn't. But maybe it was already too late. Maybe the deal she made with the Devil was the first step down a path she couldn't come back from.

The neighing of horses broke Joan's string of thoughts. She strained her eyes to look through the blackness surrounding the palace. Her breath caught when she caught four figures, each on horseback. No, it couldn't be!
She hurried out of her room, nearly pushing Leonora out of the way as the maidservant brought in some clothes for the wardrobe. Joan ran, not listening to the blonde's shouts, wondering how to stop the legendary Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The baslard at her leg would do little against them, but she had to try. Those things couldn't be allowed to escape to the Mortal Realm.

Suddenly, Joan's path was blocked halfway through the corridor by a growing swell of ivy and poppies. They came together from the walls. Joan ran even faster and jumped through the hole in the middle before the ivy closed it. She somersaulted over the floor, careful not to hurt herself, and resumed her sprint as soon as she got up.
But alas, she met an additional threat around the corner. The Blood Countess grinned viciously when Joan came to an abrupt stop. She tried to draw her baslard, but to her great dismay, she had already fallen victim to the witch's spell and was sinking into the floor.

"Where do you think you're going, little girl?"

"The Horsemen are loose." Joan gritted her teeth as she tried to push herself out of the ground. "Dammit, let me go, you witch!"

"And when you get to them, what exactly do you plan to do? You have no weapons and no powers."

"Come closer, and I'll show you what I can do!"

"Hm, I think not. And stop struggling, stupid twit. You're no match for me."

The broken amulet around Bathory's neck gleamed with a reddish glow. The floor swallowed Joan further, like quicksand. She heard the horses outside. They were getting further away. She had to do something. Anything!
In her rage and frustration, Joan slammed her fists against the floor. The ground quaked. The Countess lost her balance. Her control over the spell broke, and Joan stopped sinking, her body now stuck just above her hips. The stones around her cracked and broke to pieces. Bathory's surprised outcry was the last thing Joan heard before a haze fell over her.

***

If he hadn't witnessed what was happening with his own two eyes, Morpheus would never have believed it. The Fallen Angel hovered several feet above the ground, her figure enveloped by a bright golden-white gleam. He felt the warmth radiating off her, even though he was standing on the other side of the corridor. And her eyes... They were white as snow.
The girl's focus remained on the Blood Countess. The witch cast spell after spell, but her magic didn't affect her target anymore. Bathory tried to move away, but her leg was stuck under piles of rubble. Though Morpheus took great delight in seeing her fear, but he couldn't let this go on. Enough was enough.
He sped towards them and blocked Joan's path. One flick of his wrist and the conjured poppy dust blew into her face. She froze. Her eyelids closed. Her body lay prone and hovered mid-air. The glow around her flickered until it ceased completely.
Morpheus waved his hand, and a stretcher appeared. Joan's body floated down on it. He clapped his hands twice, and two severely underfed servant boys materialised in the blink of an eye. The golden-haired maidservant, who had the sense to warn him of what was going on, also came up to her master.

"Take her back to her room," ordered Morpheus. "Stay there until she wakes and give her something to eat. We'll need to monitor her. I've never had to use poppy powder on a pregnant woman before, so I do not know what effect it will have."

"If she loses that baby, you'll pay dearly for it!" yelled Bathory.

Morpheus ignored her and dismissed his servants. When they were well on their way, he turned to the Countess and smirked.

"Well, my lady Countess, fallen down, have we? I hope you haven't hurt yourself too badly."

"Shut up and get me out of here!"

"Tut-tut, touchy."

Morpheus made his way through the rubble and knelt beside her. She hissed when he freed her from underneath the stones. He offered his hand, but she pushed him away and clambered up on her own. 

"You need to mend that ankle," he said.

"Don't tell me what to do," Bathory sneered back at him. "Just take me to the girl."

"She won't wake up for hours, and my servant will stay with her. Use this time to fix yourself. Or do you plan on walking crooked for the rest of your afterlife?"

Morpheus waited for the Countess to object, but all she did was scoff. Even she couldn't deny that the longer she waited to treat her ankle, the worse it would get. As he helped Bathory to her room, Morpheus thought about what he had witnessed. It seemed Joan of Arc wasn't as powerless as everyone assumed. But one thing was certain — Fallen Angels did not have powers of their own. Which begged the question; were these her own somehow? Or were these powers connected to what grew inside her?

***

After discussing some last points (defences, training for the warriors, stocking the apothecary, putting the artistas to work, etc.), Raphael left Gabriël alone. It had become clear the measure of responsibility Michael's position held. Part of Gabriël wanted to leave Raphael in charge of everything, so he could search for Michael himself. The sooner he was found, the sooner he could return to Resia. Another challenge awaited him there.
But he had to have faith in the other Archangels. They were just as qualified, or even better, at finding Michael than he was. Not to mention, he had to remain here to await Samael's arrival. The Angel of Death had failed to make an appearance so far, which only sparked further questions.

Hoping Samael would still show up sooner rather than later, Gabriël walked around the Villa, trying to find something else to do. He had been there so many times, yet it felt like he was in a stranger's home. His feet took him to Michael's private room. This was the one part of the Villa he had never seen. It seemed wrong to enter without Michael, yet the room could help Gabriël uncover more of Michael's personal life. Perhaps he could come to understand why Michael had held onto the secrets and lies.
Unlike the rest of the Villa, which was meticulously clean, Michael's bed-chamber was a mess. He may have just left in a hurry after receiving Gabriël's message about the Horsemen, but still... something felt off. The bedsheet lay half on the floor; one of his pillows lay a few feet from the bed. The door to his wardrobe stood ajar, revealing some clothes on the bottom.

So he does wear something else besides robes, thought Gabriël.

He couldn't help but smile when an image of Michael in jeans and a t-shirt flashed before his eyes. Why not? He could probably pull the look off. Gabriël opened the wardrobe further. Michael's scent lingered, even though he hadn't been in the room for some time. It made him think of —

No, don't think about that. It meant nothing.  

Yet, despite that, Gabriël still pictured Michael before him. The taste of Michael's lips, the urgency in his kiss, the want in his touch... And then his own response. Though Gabriël kept telling himself he'd only kissed Michael to further his ploy of using the Archangel's feelings against him, he couldn't deny it had felt... good. 
He'd said he wanted to kiss him. And part of Gabriël truly had. Why, he still didn't understand. There'd been something about the way Michael had spoken to him. It'd triggered this deep... connection, maybe? Whatever it was, Gabriël wanted to forget about the whole thing as quickly as possible. But that was easier said than done.

You really love me, don't you, Michael? He sighed and shut his eyes to dispel the haunting memory. You should have told me. Things might have been...

But Gabriël knew well enough that knowing about Michael's feelings wouldn't have changed anything. And really, he couldn't blame Michael for not telling him. He'd kept silent to Joan for six hundred years, so who was he to cast the first stone? He could blame Michael for something, though. Things would've been very different had those rules not been implemented. Not just for him and Joan, but for everyone. Gabriël knew of two other Archangels who had also broken the rules by taking one particular lover on Earth. They were forced to lie only so Michael could keep up his own deception. 
Frustrated, Gabriël slammed the door of the wardrobe. He stepped on a towel, which lay halfway across the bathroom threshold. He snatched it up, and something fell from the creases, landing right at his feet - a single black feather. Gabriël frowned at it. It looked a lot like a feather from an Archangel's wing, but those were ivory compared to the snow-white ones of normal angels. No angel had this colour in its wings. None except —

"GABRIËL! GABRIËL, WHERE ARE YOU?"

Gabriël's heart stopped as Catherine's voice resonated through the Villa. He dropped the towel and rushed out of Michael's bed-chamber, nearly bumping into Catherine as she sprinted forward.

"Cate? What are you doing here? Why aren't you with Joan in the Sanctum?"

"Gabriël, I'm so sorry!" Catherine shook her head in tears as she held on to him. "We've looked everywhere! We tried to – W-We couldn't – Please, you have to do something!"

"Cate, calm down! What's happened?!"

"It's Joan! She's gone!"