Escape was futile. Margaret knew she wouldn't make it far. Even if she made it out of the icy, gloomy palace, she would still have to pass the Nine Circles and the Mortal Realm. She only knew the very basics of fighting. If the demons in the Circles didn't catch her, the Horsemen certainly would. She would have to wait until she was brought somewhere else or until the angels got to her. But would they even think of looking for her here? And... did she even want to leave?
Lucifer had been angry with Samael for bringing her to the Circles, but he seemed glad of her presence now. He'd arranged for new clothes to be brought to her; a jade dress with a tight bodice laced in the front. It wasn't something Margaret would choose for herself, but she felt strangely comfortable wearing it. Powerful almost. She had been given some high-heeled sandals to match, but she threw those aside and explored Lucifer's chambers barefoot.

She was surprised to find everything so... un-hellish. The fireplace was lit but didn't illuminate the room enough on its own. Several candelabras stood spread around, their tiny flames providing light and warmth. The few paintings on the walls were not of massacres but intriguing, beautiful images of entwining bodies captured in their love-making. The furniture was of the richest wood and ornately decorated. These were rooms fit for royalty.
Margaret poured some wine into a crystal goblet and sauntered to a bookcase in the far corner. She squinted to read the titles.

I know these stories. None of them have happy endings. They're all about quarrels, lost love, and death... Curious.

Though Margaret's memories were slowly returning to her, it would be some time before she could make any sense of the muddle inside her head. Yet there was something that jumped out. Something she couldn't deny, no matter how hard she tried — she had loved Lucifer unconditionally.
Every time she remembered something about him, Margaret felt a piece of the puzzle falling back into place, nearing completion. It was extraordinary that her heart and body seemed to remember that love so well after eighteen centuries.

A click resonated behind Margaret, and she turned around to see Lucifer walk into the room. He locked the door and dropped his robe on the floor. From the moment she'd laid eyes on him, she thought him to be the personification of Don Juan. Every single movement, every single word uttered, dripped with temptation. She caught sight of Lucifer's naked skin where his black shirt opened at his chest and had to ground herself to prevent from dropping to her knees as heat suddenly flushed through her lower body.
Lucifer sat at the edge of the bed, leaning forward and hiding his face in his hands. Margaret regarded him closely. She did not see the monster Michael had made him out to be. She did not see the Devil, the Prince of Hell, or even an evil man, but someone who wore the scars of his past and was nearly crushed by loss. There was no denying the darkness inside him. But it was no more present than what she had recently seen in Gabriël. If there was any chance...
Something moved Margaret towards him. She didn't know if it was the memories, her instinct to care for someone, or the overpowering desire to be with him. The sensation was remarkably similar to how she'd felt with Michael. Only this time, it was far more intense. 

"Did something happen?" Margaret leaned against a bedpost, maintaining some distance in case Lucifer did not want her near.

"I just executed someone who betrayed me," he replied. "It pained me to do it. He was... a valued servant. I trusted him. I keep making that mistake somehow."

"It's not a mistake to put your faith in someone. Not everyone betrays your trust."

"Plenty do."

"Not me."

Lucifer looked at her and smiled weakly. His obsidian eyes glistened in the faint light of the surrounding flames. Margaret inconspicuously clenched her legs together. What was happening to her?

"No, not you," said Lucifer. "You never hurt me. If anything, I hurt you. I put you in danger and failed to protect you from Michael."

"What happened then was not your fault." Margaret quickly sat beside him and took his hand in hers. "I remember more every minute, and you were as much a victim as I was. Michael is the one who tore apart what we had. He destroyed us because of his spiteful jealousy."

"I let it happen. I couldn't stop him."

"That doesn't matter anymore. We're together now. And Michael is gone. I don't want to know what you've done to him; just tell me he won't come between us again. Tell me I can stay with you."

"Stay?" Lucifer straightened and stared at her in disbelief. "You wish to stay here?"

Margaret nodded, sudden confidence flowing through her.

"No, I won't allow it," he said. "I won't allow the darkness to corrupt you."

"Well, can you leave, then?" wondered Margaret aloud. 

"Not for long, no."

"Then it would seem I have no choice."

"Marina, please think about what you're saying," implored Lucifer. "You are too pure for this place. If you stay here, the Circles will consume you. You can still return to the Vale. It's not too late."

Margaret raised her hand, showing him the bracelet he had given her on their wedding day.

"I will not break my vow to you, Lucifer. I promised to be your wife and to always stand by your side. Always."

Lucifer sat quietly, appearing at a loss for words. He took Margaret's hand, his own bracelet glinting in the candlelight, and lay her palm against his chest. Her fast-beating heart instantly matched the fierce, steady cadence of his.
Their eyes locked on each other and drew them closer. Lucifer caressed Margaret's cheek. Closer still. The tip of their noses touched. She felt his breath against her mouth. Her lips kissed his, hesitant at first, then more assured. They eased into each other, letting their eagerness and passion take the reins. Lucifer's tongue traced Margaret's soft lips. She opened her mouth to him, allowing their tongues to meet. Margaret unwillingly recalled her kiss with Michael. He had responded to her initially, but not like this. Not with this much lust, not with this much... love.
Not wanting to linger on what had almost happened with Michael, Margaret quickly discarded all thoughts of the Lord Protector. She let Lucifer push her back onto the bed. He trailed his hand down her neck as continued to devour her lips, fingers brushing her skin ever so softly. His touch tickled, like being stroked with a feather. When he came to her bosom, he expertly unlaced her bodice and picked at the strings of her dress.

Suddenly, Lucifer drew back, hissing in pain. His expression darkened as he scowled at the pendant lying between her breasts. It emitted a peculiar blue gleam. Margaret stiffened. She'd completely forgotten — the pendant carried Heaven's Fire. This was what Michael'd used to 'protect' her and defeat Lucifer. What had burned him then, and what burned him now. 
Margaret yelped as Lucifer suddenly ripped the pendant away, got off the bed, and flung it straight into the fireplace. The flames hungrily devoured the jewel. Fear crept inside Margaret as she hastily covered herself and sat back up. Lucifer's head snapped back to her. A storm brewed behind his dark gaze. 

"Did... he touch you?" he asked, his voice quivering in anger.

"W-What?"

"Did Michael ever touch you?"

Margaret bit her lip. Should she tell her husband of what happened in the Villa and how Michael turned her away before he drew the wrong conclusions? But what if, in doing so, Lucifer turned out to be the very monster Michael warned her about?

"Margaret, answer me," insisted Lucifer. "Did anything ever happen between you and Michael?"

"I... I went to him after Gabriël left." The words spilled out of her. "I wanted to... be with him. Ease his pain. Make him forget. But he turned me away. That was the first time he called me Marina."

She didn't know why she added such an insignificant detail. Maybe to prove Michael really had done nothing. 
God, why did she go to him that day? If Michael hadn't turned her away and they'd slept together after all the horrible things he'd done to her... Margaret would never forgive herself for even thinking of him in that way.

"We kissed, but nothing more," she added in a small voice. "I swear it."

"Since when did you feel attracted to him?" asked Lucifer. "Before or after the attack at the Gates?"

"Why does —"

"Before or after?"

"After. Definitely after."

Lucifer sighed and gave a small nod as he placed his hands on his hips. He seemed relieved at her reply. His expression softened as he gazed back into Margaret's smaragdine eyes.

"My blood was mixed into the poison used on Gabriël. Your subconscious and heart must've recognised our bond and tried to seek me out. Your attraction wasn't to Michael but to my ethereal presence in the Vale. My physical body wasn't near, so you turned to the only other person I shared an intense bond with and whose powers were connected to my own." He then chuckled and licked his lips. "I'm just realising you weren't the only one influenced by that. It just affected him differently. Maybe both of them, even."

Him? Him who? Michael? Or was he speaking of Gabriël? Margaret was afraid to ask. She was even afraid to beg for his forgiveness. 

"Marina, I'm not angry with you." Lucifer sat back down beside her, appearing to have read her mind. "I can't even be angry with Michael. Nor for this, anyway."

"That doesn't change that... we could've..." She swallowed. "Lucifer, I —"

"Don't." He cut her off, cupping her face in his hands. "Don't apologise or say anything else. Michael is gone. And we're here, together. At long last." 

Before Margaret could speak, Lucifer captured her lips. Everything melted away with that kiss. Her fears, her worries, Michael... None of that mattered anymore. She lay back down on the bed. Lucifer's mouth trailed kisses down toward her breasts, once again out of the confines of the dress. Margaret gasped when he took her nipple in his mouth. He licked and sucked as she whispered his name, hand raking through his hair.
The heat Margaret had felt before once again built inside her. It shot through her every time Lucifer's teeth grazed her breast. Faintly, she became aware Lucifer's hand travelled up her thigh, pushing her dress to her waist. She trembled at the titillating caress between her legs.

"You're soaking wet, my love." Lucifer breathed against her skin as he released her breast and threw her a sideways glance. "Are you so eager to have me inside you?"

Unable to utter even the simplest of words, Margaret nodded. His slender fingers delved between her folds. She moaned when he pressed her clit in a fast, circular motion. Memories of the lonely nights in the Vale where she'd done this to herself after being haunted by a fierce, faceless lover in her dreams flashed through her mind. She'd struggled to understand the who and when, but now she knew. Now she remembered that lover had been none other than the man she was currently with. Her husband. Her Lucifer.
He swiftly moved on top of Margaret, fingers abandoning her folds so he could place his hands on either side of her body. As she welcomed his mouth on hers, Lucifer pushed up against her. The bulge in his pants struck her core, driving Margaret mad with desire. She pulled at his clothes, nearly tearing them off. He grabbed her wrist and gave her a look — that look.
The corners of his mouth turned up in a mischievous grin, his dark eyes sparkling like onyx and filled with all-consuming lust. It triggered another memory. Their wedding night... Margaret saw herself entangled in her bedsheets, with Lucifer giving her that same sensual gaze seconds before he had made her his. Inexperienced, she had let him take the lead in their love game. She wouldn't allow that now.

Using all of her force, Margaret turned them over. She straddled Lucifer's hips, pinning him down on the bed, and tore open his shirt. Her husband smiled broadly as she used her lips to trace every inch of his chest. As he had done with her, Margaret lingered around a nipple. She took it between her teeth and bit down, drawing a sharp hiss from Lucifer's lips. Such a sweet sound it was. One she was eager to hear again.
Margaret fumbled to loosen Lucifer's pants, but he seized her wrists and rolled her back onto the mattress, reclaiming control. He waved his hand and two shackles appeared from the wall; the bonds closing around Margaret's wrists. She gasped in consternation as the chains dragged her further until her head rested on the pillows. Her eyes darted from the shackles to Lucifer, who removed what clothes remained with a snap of his fingers. 

Oh my God...

Margaret thirstily took in the sight of Lucifer's naked body. It had been so long since she'd seen him, yet she remembered every taunt muscle, every lean curve, every exquisite part. Her gaze rested on his thick, erect manhood. How could she have forgotten how big he was? How had she ever handled all of him? And how had she ever got it into her head that she wanted Michael instead of this striking dark Casanova?
Lucifer leaned back in and tore Margaret's dress and undergarments off her body, scattering them around. He hovered over her. His dark eyes sucked her in, placing her under an enchantment. Stimulated by her yearning for him, Margaret opened her legs, allowing Lucifer to lower himself between them. His tip nudged at her entrance, and her entire body fluttered in anticipation. Lucifer brushed his lips against hers and whispered, "You're mine, Marina. Only mine."

Margaret drew in her breath as Lucifer pushed into her, burying his shaft to the hilt. He paused a moment, allowing her to adjust to him. As the pain wavered, Margaret gazed back into Lucifer's eyes. She wanted to put her arms around him, but the chains prevented her from doing so. She was completely at his mercy — and he knew it.
Lucifer retreated almost completely out of Margaret and then pushed back in. Always the same motions. Fiercer. Faster. Their bodies fit perfectly together and seemed to remember the movements, sensations, and responses. It was like they had never been apart.
Margaret gripped the chains for support. She folded her knees more and tipped her pelvic, allowing Lucifer to go deeper. She moaned loudly and threw her head back. Waves of pleasure rippled through Margaret as she met every thrust Lucifer gave. She shivered as she neared her high. So close. Almost... 

Suddenly, Lucifer pulled out of her. He drew back and flipped Margaret around, making her kneel onto the bed on all fours. She cried out when he slammed into her from behind, instantly striking at the sweet spot that made her see stars. Her walls clenched around his shaft, but Lucifer continued to pound in on her. Their hips banged against each other, creating the most erotic sounds as flesh struck against flesh. 
Then, Lucifer sat back on his knees and tugged Margaret onto his lap, forcing her to spread her legs further. The abrupt change of position surprised her, especially since he once again did it right before the knot building inside her gave way. He truly was a cruel Devil.
The restraints tightened, but Margaret barely felt the pain. What else but euphoria could she feel when her husband relentlessly pistoned up into her? She arched her back a little, leaning her upper body back. Their mouths found each other as Lucifer turned her face sideways by her chin, and their tongues danced around, fighting over control. His thrusts grew wilder, but he never once lost his momentum. He kept going, grunting and growling like an animal until...
Margaret cried out when Lucifer's fingers rapidly rolled back and forth over her clit. Her juices squirted, and she was finally lost in sensational ecstasy. The shackles around her wrists disappeared as her body convulsed. She writhed against Lucifer, the aftermath of her orgasm hitting her hard. He carefully lay Margaret back on the bed, but remained inside of her.

"Don't give in to sleep yet, my love," he whispered in her ear. "We have years of catching up to do."

His lips brushed against Margaret's neck. She smiled weakly. She still couldn't fathom finally being reunited with the man she truly desired. The man who had abandoned the Heavens for her. Lucifer was hers again. Hers alone.

***

The gyrfalcon soared through the sky. It dived and rose, trying to impress its mistress. But Anne Boleyn, who usually looked at her bird companion with affection, could not even muster the faintest smile. The majestic animal settled gracefully on Anne's shoulder, giving her a comforting nudge with its head.
The Nephilim leader had gone up to the battlements of the Castel Sant'Angelo, wanting to be alone for a while. Salomé and Cosette had been brought to the Castel just before dusk, already prepared for burial. One great pyre had been built for them and Juan. The other Nephilim had stood by the survivors of the attack at Resia, sharing their grief and giving them the greatest respect. But it all meant nothing to Anne.
Olympe hadn't spoken to her since their fight. It hurt Anne that she couldn't comfort her dearest friend. But what could she say to offer solace to another when her own heart was overwhelmed by sorrow? She cried silent tears for all the lives destroyed these past hours; Coraline, who had lost her mother and sister, and her leg too, and was still fighting a fever; Cosette, who had been violated horribly by those monsters; little Remy, who had seen too much at such a young age. And she cried for the one that hurt the most. Life would never be the same without her foolish yet brave and charming Spanish friend.
Footsteps sounded behind Anne. She turned, expecting to find her husband. Instead, she saw Isabelle Romée.

"Pardonnez-moi, ma chère," said Joan's mother. "Je voulais juste voire si tu allais bien."

"Aussi bien que possible." Anne hastily rubbed her tears away.

Isabelle nodded and came to stand beside her. The gyrfalcon tilted its head and looked curiously at the old woman, clicking its beak before flying away.

"It is a terrible loss you have suffered," Isabelle said sadly. "I am sorry."

Anne remained silent at the offered condolences. She had heard so many already. Too many.

"Gabriël told me you saved my daughter and took her in when she fell. I owe you a mother's gratitude for that."

"You owe us nothing," said Anne. "I was unable to keep Joan with us. Anything that happens to her now is just another consequence of my mistakes."

"Joan has always had a mind of her own," said Isabelle. "She left the safety of the Sanctum to do what she thought was best to protect the man she loves. I doubt there was anything you could've done to stop her. I have faith in Gabriël. He will find her. You have your own to think of now, ma chère. Go to them."

"I can't. All of this... it's because of me. They blame me. Olympe lost Juan because of Borgia's vendetta against me. I... I can't..."

The quiver in Anne's voice caused her words to fall away. Isabelle took her hand in hers.

"Be there for your family, Anne, even if they do not want you near. If you allow this to break you apart, Borgia wins. Don't let him. Henry could not break you, so Borgia can't either. Show that scum the perseverance and fighting spirit you are renowned for. Show him your light."

Anne looked into Isabelle's kind, motherly eyes. Perhaps the old woman was right. She couldn't falter now. She had to be there for her family and —
The gyrfalcon's high-pitched squawk cut through the silent night, and Anne immediately drew the dagger at her hip. She looked for her bird and found it circling Michael's statue at the top of the Castel. Hurried footsteps had Anne pivoting on the spot. She exhaled when she saw her husband running towards her, several Nephilim following close behind.

"I was watching you from the other side of the battlements when I noticed Gyrie's behaviour, so I gathered everyone I could find on my way to you." Thomas passed Anne her weapons.

"You know how I feel about that name, Thomas," she scolded.

"I have to call that bloody bird something. What's...?"

He fell silent as a portal appeared at the top of the fortress. It closed after only a few seconds, meaning someone had either left or arrived. Considering the current situation, the latter seemed more possible.
Thomas quickly made his own portal, and Anne followed him through. They recoiled when they saw the Impaler standing before them. He lowered his hood and held out his hands, showing them he held no weapons. With him stood a girl of perhaps seventeen years. Her hood was drawn back to reveal a youthful face with delicate features, yet her clothes were ragged.

"Lady Anne, Lord Thomas, apologies for the intrusion," said Tepes.

"What in God's name are you doing here?" Thomas sneered and drew his sword. "How did you even get here?"

"I'm sorry, but I have no time to explain. Please, you must take the girl up to the Vale at once."

"What? Why? Who is she?"

"I am Anastasia Nikolayevna Romanova," said the girl. "And I can speak for myself. Sir."

Anne quickly stepped forward, taking charge before Thomas lost his temper with the brazen girl. He was used to Anne's wit and sharp tongue after so many centuries of marriage, but he didn't accept it from anyone else.

"Why are you here, Anastasia?" she asked, throwing a cautious glance at her husband.

"My teacher... He risked everything to set me free."

"Your teacher? Do you mean Rasputin?" Anne turned to the Impaler. "And you?"

"I am Michael's agent in the Circles. I am the one who warned Gabriël of the attacks on the Sanctums. Rasputin discovered this and asked me to help Anastasia escape for his silence. He believes she shows promise for the Vale, so please, get her there."

Anne opened her mouth to speak, but Thomas beat her to it.

"You don't seriously expect us to believe all that, do you? You were part of the force that attacked our homes!"

"I don't care what you believe. Just take her and prepare yourselves. An attack is imminent."

"An attack? What are you talking about?"

"Yes, Impaler, what are you talking about?"

Thomas and Anne spun around. Standing there, with a devilish grin plastered on his face, was the Borgia Bastard.

"I've suspected you were a fucking traitor for some time now, Tepes. So did the Master. I will enjoy watching the Hellhounds tear you apart." His grin widened. "Just like that filthy monaco."

Anastasia screamed. Anne moved quickly and let loose an arrow. Borgia dodged it and moved to attack, but was surprised by Anne's gyrfalcon as it swooped past him. He waved his sword furiously to kill the bird, but it moved swiftly and stayed well out of reach.
Sudden shouts from the battlements below and the ensuing sound of clashing swords stilled Anne's heart. The Castel Sant' Angelo was already under attack. There was not a moment to waste.

"Tepes, take Anastasia up and warn Gabriël," she ordered.

The Impaler nodded and took hold of the girl. She kicked her feet, screaming at him to let her go, but Tepes quickly passed through the portal Thomas conjured, dragging Anastasia with him.

"Thomas, make sure our family is safe."

"No, Anne, please..."

"Thomas, go!"

Her husband pressed his lips together and balled his fists before vanishing through another portal. Anne took a deep breath and faced her arch-nemesis.

"He is mine."