Joan waited outside the Hospitium, in the shadows of a giant willow tree. Three days had gone by since she last saw Gabriël, and she had grown more restless every day. Raphael had placed him in a closed ward the moment they arrived at the Hospitium, while Michael sent one of his winged lions to stand guard at the entrance of the building. It never stopped pacing and growled at everyone who wasn't a part of Raphael's staff and looked at Joan several times, its eyes taking in the slightest move she made. The beast made her uncomfortable, but couldn't make her leave. 
The only thing that kept Joan from attempting to get into the ward was her promise to Gabriël right before arriving at the Hospitium. He had begged her to keep calm and to do everything Michael asked. Joan had done her best, and Michael stopped asking questions, but she wasn't convinced the Lord Protector had a change of heart. If he even had a heart...

As she waited, Joan's gaze remained on the doors of the eighteenth-century building. Though the Hospitium was built in the neoclassical architecture of that age, it was heavily decorated with influences from every era. Raphael had (perhaps mistakenly) allowed the artistas to use the Hospitium's exterior as their personal workshop, as long as they did not disturb any patients; Baroque, Gothic, Expressionism, even Modernism and Egyptian had found their way here. It was a funny sight for such a serious building.
Finally, Joan saw Raphael leave the ward, dressed in his usual white physician's attire. She felt her heart skip a beat at seeing Gabriël was with him. He looked well enough from this distance. She walked toward them with hurried steps, but the lion growled and spread his wings to block her way. Raphael rushed over and waved his hands at the beast.

"There's no need for that anymore. Go back to your home. Go on, shoo. Shoo!"

He pushed a wing away as if it was made of feathers instead of stone. The lion roared indignantly and then flew away. The physician huffed before turning to Joan.

"Joan! A pleasure to see you," he greeted her warmly. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Not that long," she lied. "I came to see if visitors were allowed today. Maman told me last night that there was a chance."

"I won't be allowing visitors here because there won't be anyone to visit. He's all cleared."

He gestured for Gabriël to step forward into the sunlight. Joan smiled and meant to greet him. But she recoiled at the sight of him. Her smile wavered. Gabriël had definitely lost some weight during his stay. And his skin was still ashen.

How can they possibly think he is well enough to go home? He looks worse than he did last time he was here.

"Gabriël..." she hesitated. "You look... um..."

"Terrible, I know," he finished. "But in my defence, I've been cooped up in a dark room for the past three days. And don't get me started on the food here."

"Now, Gabriël, be nice," reprimanded Raphael.

"Easy, Rafe." Gabriël grinned back at him. "Just kidding."

"Hmph, well, you're in good company now. I trust Joan to accompany you home. And remember; one vial, half of it on the wound and the other half to drink, every three hours. I will check up on you soon."

Raphael handed him a large satchel.

"I won't forget," said Gabriël.

He hugged his friend, and Raphael went back inside the Hospitium, but not before Joan noticed him hiding a worn expression. Was he worried? 
Joan fought the urge to hold Gabriël in her arms, and he shook his head, as if he had read her mind.

"Not here," he whispered. "Do you mind if we go find a bite to eat? I really wasn't joking about the food here."

"Sure, anything you're craving?"

"Anything but rice pudding. I swear I'll start the biggest food fight in history if I see one more bowl."

Joan laughed. A little part of her wished the Agora would be filled with rice pudding.

***

Michael summoned Raphael to his Villa. His winged lion had returned, which meant that Gabriël was no longer at the Hospitium. He waited patiently for the physician to arrive, preparing for his training with the newest recruits. He was just walking out of his bedchamber, strapping on his pugio, when Raphael stumbled into the parlour.

"Sorry, I came as quickly as I could," he said, taking a deep breath. "How can I help you?"

"You sent my lion back to me. I assume Gabriël has left then?"

"Yes, he has. I saw no reason to keep him any longer. He knows how to take the antidote, and I have Isabelle preparing more as we speak."

"I wish you would have consulted me first."

"I do not need to consult a military man regarding medical matters. Now, if there is ever an attack on the Hospitium, God forbid, I shall gladly ask for your counsel."

The Lord Protector couldn't help but feel a sting in his pride.

"Fine, I shall trust your judgment on this," he relented. "Is someone accompanying him?"

"Yes, Joan is with him."

"Joan? Why did you send for her?"

"I didn't. She was already waiting outside the Hospitium."

Michael hurried up to his balcony. He gazed at the path to Gabriël's house to see if they were on their way, but he couldn't see them there. He turned to Joan's house, but he only saw their horses. Finally, he found them in the Agora, eating with Margaret.

"Michael, can you kindly explain why you are checking up on them?" inquired Raphael behind him.

"It is of no importance." 

"I don't believe you."

Michael sighed and bit his lip. Should he address his concern? The physician could be a bit of a scatter-brain, so he might not even know what he was talking about, but if he did, his advice would be valuable.

"Raphael, did you... notice anything about them?" asked Michael as he turned to him.

"Them, who? Joan and Gabriël?" Raphael shrugged. "What's there to notice?"

"I am not sure. Lately, I feel they have been closer than usual. You mentioned Joan was already there when you walked Gabriël out?"

"Yes, but that means nothing. Joan came to see if she could visit her friend. You came to visit him; should I be worried you are closer to him too?"

"Do not ridicule me," Michael snapped. "This is no laughing matter."

Raphael's surprised look had him groaning in frustration. If the physician had noticed nothing, then perhaps he was overreacting after all. But why did he have this feeling gnawing at him then?

"Did you find out more about the poison used on Gabriël?" inquired Michael, pushing the thought to the back of his mind.

"Nothing that we didn't already know. A mixture of deadly night shade root, valerian, datura, and Borgia's signature poison. That your blood saved him after what happened three days ago only confirmed my suspicion that demon blood was also used. Though, which demon, I dare not say."

My blood, Michael thought miserably. My blood did nothing.

"No doubt Borgia put his own in it," he said, angrily slamming his hands on the balcony.

"I'm not so sure," said Raphael. "Borgia's blood would be potent, yes, but there's something different. I don't know what it is yet, but we'll find out."

"Come find me when you do. This poison can be used against any of us. I need to know everything about it. I hate to admit it, but for the first time in a very long time, I fear for us all."

***

For Joan, time crept too slowly. They had spent far too long on the Agora, but she knew why Gabriël had wanted to stop there first. Michael was already far too suspicious to her liking and it surely would have alarmed him more if they had disappeared immediately after Gabriël was discharged from the Hospitium. Then again, their visit with Margaret had been pleasant. Joan felt more at ease, and Gabriël seemed like his old self again after just a few minutes in some much needed sunlight. Still, she kept a close eye on him.
Her mother had told her what had been used in the poison that took Gabriël down. The concoction by itself was dangerous enough, but demon blood had made it even more potent. Of course, the Borgia Bastard was the prime suspect, but Raphael had doubts about that. He kept his research to himself, so Isabelle could tell Joan no more. She wondered how much Gabriël knew of it.

After saying goodbye to Margaret, they silently walked to Gabriël's cottage. Joan tried not to think about how Michael could be watching them. If he was, he would see nothing out of the ordinary. They were doing nothing wrong by merely strolling side by side. Of course, fate had to throw temptation on their way.
Gabriël's breathing had grown heavier, as if he had run a marathon. Joan made him stop so she could feel his brow. Warm, but no fever. It was just the effort of going such a long distance after spending days in a room. She should have thought of that and arranged a carriage, but she knew he would have refused it. If there was one thing all the Archangels had in common, it was their pride. They hated being weak or anyone seeing them as such. They took on their task with great vigour, and failure was never an option.

Joan stood behind Gabriël, took him by his shoulders, and straightened his back against her body to help clear his lungs. It was a trick she had learned on the battlefield from her beau duc, Alençon. He had seen men suffocate in their armour, not from a blow or a wound, but simply because they had forgotten how to breathe in the heat of battle.
When Gabriël was finally breathing normally again, he turned around to thank her, taking one of her hands. That simple gesture sent shivers down Joan's entire body. Gabriël seemed to realise what effect his touch had on her and quickly released her hand.
A thump sounding like a footfall had them both startled. Joan feared it was Michael, witnessing their brief interaction and coming down to detain them. Instead, she saw Spiritus and Thirza leave a copse of trees. She smiled at the sight of them.

Clever horses, she thought gratefully.

Thirza knelt before Gabriël so he could mount her unaided. He stroked her silvery white manes as she rose.

"What? No special treatment for me?" Joan looked at her own horse, and Spiritus shook his head, making Gabriël laugh.

"Oh ha-ha, hilarious," she said playfully, climbing onto her steed.

They soon reached Gabriël's cottage, and Joan quickly leapt off so she could help him. Thirza shook her manes, looking for a reward. Gabriël grinned and accompanied her to the stable, where he took a sugar cube from a pouch. He gave one to Spiritus as well.

"Hey, don't spoil him. It'll be all he wants if you keep doing that," Joan called out.

Gabriël patted Spiritus on the neck and said, "Don't you listen to her; you deserve it."

Joan rolled her eyes as she followed him to his home. Before he closed the door, she looked up at the sky.

Threaten me all you like, Michael, she thought. I'm done listening to you. The only voice I will listen to now is my heart. And my heart is Gabriël.

***

The moment Gabriël closed the door, he pushed Joan back against it to kiss her. He had not meant for it to happen so abruptly, but he couldn't wait even one second longer. The thought of feeling her lush lips on his once more had sustained him during those three torturous days in that little darkened room Raphael had insisted on keeping him in. Now that he was finally free and with Joan, he refused to hold back. 
The kiss grew more intense, more urgent. Nothing else mattered. All that existed in the universe were the two of them. After what seemed like hours, Gabriël cupped Joan's face and broke their kiss so he could look at her. She seemed so fragile and yet so strong at the same time.

"I'm sorry," he said, slightly flustered at his own action. 

"Don't be."

Gabriël pulled Joan to him, needing to feel her body. His heart raced in his chest. He had to calm himself. The tiny voice of his conscious cautioned him not to rush into this. Not with her. But the maddening desire within him was threatening to complete control. He had to have her in his bed right now.
Gabriël looked down at the young woman in his arms. Joan met his lustful gaze and leaned in to kiss him again. He opened his mouth and traced her lips with his tongue. Parting her lips to accept him, Joan grasped his shirt in her hand, pulling him even closer to her. As the kiss deepened and their tongues twirled around each other, something primal rose in Gabriël. He sensed a strength within he never knew he had. It was so... invigorating. And it urged him to continue.
His hands moved to Joan's hip, then her thigh, to gather the fabric of her dress. He lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, prompting him to press her against the door. A sudden gasp made him draw back, though. Gabriël held still, afraid he had somehow hurt her, but then he realised what had happened. In the heat of the moment, he had ground up against her, pushing up to her core. Despite the layers of clothing between them, Joan felt him — his yearning, his arousal. It was getting more difficult to keep it contained.

Clutching her body to keep her pinned against him, Gabriël carried Joan through to his bedroom. He dropped her on the bed. She unwrapped her legs from around him when he put his hand on her knee and caressed down towards her foot. He gently slid her sandal off and kissed her foot, stroking back up her calf as he did. When the other sandal came off, he started on her dress. Joan sat up and allowed him to take it off her, her thin linen underdress remaining to cover her.
Gabriël drew back, sat on the edge of the bed, and anxiously began removing his boots. Hearing the fluttering of cloth, he looked up in time to see women's undergarments falling to the floor. His heart skipped a beat when he caught sight of Joan's naked body; she was breathtakingly beautiful. The dreams he had of her these past centuries really failed to do her justice.

In one smooth move, Joan straddled him. She took his shirt with both hands and pulled him towards her for a kiss. Tentative at first, but growing more passionate as they eased into each other. Gabriël felt every inch of her heated body through his clothes. It stirred him even more. And he could tell she was stirred as well as she ripped open his shirt with impatient hands, the fragile linen fluttering in pieces to the ground.
Joan put her hands on his shoulders and suddenly swayed her hips, moving over the growing bulge in his pants. Gabriël uttered an animalistic groan at the friction. This woman was going to be the death of him. He snaked his arm around her to keep her in place while distracting Joan with another kiss so he could let his hand travel down her body between her legs. She recoiled, pushing against his shoulders, eyes wide, at the mere stroke of his fingers against her folds.

"G-Gabriël, wh-what are you - oh. Oh, my..."

He smiled at seeing Joan's eyelids flutter as her words slipped into a moan and manoeuvred her lower body closer. Though he held her firmly, he allowed her to ride against his hand as he expertly rubbed the little pearly gland between her folds. Joan dropped her head onto his shoulder and tangled her own fingers into his hair, desperately seeking something to hold on to as Gabriël placed fervent kisses on the side of her neck. It wouldn't be much longer before she was completely overcome. But he didn't want that to happen like this. 
Gabriël removed his hand, grabbed on to Joan and swung her around to put her back on the mattress. He knelt between her legs, thirstily eyeing the wetness dripping from her. That would have to be for another time, though. Seeing her panting, cheeks flushed hot and pink, was more than he could take. He had to be inside her.

"Joan," Gabriël's hushed voice flowed over with eagerness, " I need you to be sure. We can't go back to what we were after this."

"I never said I wanted to go back," she said, reaching up with a trembling hand to caress his face.

"If I hurt you... Just tell me to stop and I will. I promise."

Joan's hooded eyes suddenly held a curious expression. Peaceful, yet excited as well. She opened his pants and slipped her hands underneath the waistband. The tip of her fingers sent shivers through his body as they stroked over his skin. Gabriël hurriedly pulled his pants off himself when Joan couldn't go any further than his thigh. They were both naked now, their bodies only inches away from each other. He positioned himself at her entrance but hesitated as a daunting realisation invaded his mind.

She's your best friend. She was your charge. You were supposed to keep her safe. And now... you're condemning her. 

Joan suddenly sat up to wrap her arms around his neck and kissed him softly on the lips.

"I want this, Gabriël," she whispered. "I want you. Don't think about anything else and just be here with me. Please... let me feel you."

Her words cast all doubt away. Joan pulled Gabriël down with her. As he kissed her back, he pushed into her. She yelped and gripped the sheets as he sheathed himself, making Gabriël pause as he recalled she hadn't done this before. Not voluntarily. In a way, he was the first man she surrendered willingly to. The thought of that inexplicably aroused Gabriël even more. 
He examined her face, forcing himself to remain still as he'd promised he would stop if she was in any pain. But feeling her walls clench around his throbbing member was making it very difficult for him.
Finally, Joan nodded she was all right, and he began to move, taking in every reaction. Her eyes closed, and she bit her lip as she arched her back. Gabriël savoured every way she responded to him and dipped to kiss Joan's neck. Her hands trailed his back. He groaned as her nails suddenly dug into his skin at his next thrust.
Encouraged by his lover's increasing moans, Gabriël moved faster still, and Joan answered his movements with her hips. He had never felt so powerful before. Something inside him urged him to let go of all restraint.

"Go on until she completely gives herself to you. Ravage her utterly. Only then will she be truly yours. Only then will you possess her."

Joan suddenly tensed and shuddered underneath him. She tilted her hips, allowing Gabriël to thrust even deeper. He caught her lips for a feverish kiss, cutting off her startled gasp as he hit that sensitive spot inside her. Their tongues met like before, trapped in a fierce tango which Gabriël was adamant in leading. Then, Joan broke away and cried out his name. It was the most amazing sound he had ever heard. Gabriël pounded in on her relentlessly, helping Joan ride out her high as he pursued his own. So close. Closer.
With a guttural grunt, Gabriël at last spilt his seed inside her. His arms trembled, and he lowered himself, careful not to cause Joan any discomfort with his weight on hers. He rested his head on her breasts and panted heavily, his heart thumping furiously. Joan wrapped her arms around his sweating body to steady him. 
Gabriël's mind reeled when he became lucid enough to fully grasp what had just happened. What he had done with her. What she had done with him. 
Finally, after six hundred years, Joan was his.