"Ulcinin. Henceforth, you shall be Ulcinin." 

"What does that mean?" I inquired with the curiosity of an innocent child. 

"Joyful. You bring me great joy, so you shall be Ulcinin." 

I beamed at Mikha'el, my wings twitching with delight. The sensation was odd, akin to scratching a bad itch. 

We were standing outside of a massive stone structure. There was a strange language etched onto the facade. I had been told it was the library, so I could only assume that's what the word read (asolome, I was told). 

"Come here," Mikha'el instructed. 

Confused, but without question, I stepped forward and closed the space between us. Mikha'el laid his open palm on my forehead, the fingers gripping my skull. 

Blinding, searing pain erupted throughout my body. It momentarily felt like I was set aflame, and I thought I was going to die. It was a flashfire though, the burning pain disappearing just as quick as I had felt it. The only place it resided longer was in my head, a dull, stinging ache. 

I had screamed. I stumbled away, clutching my head. All the pain gathered behind my eyes, and I didn't open them until it became a dull stinging ache. Even so I could only squint up at Mikha'el from a doubled-over position, still clutching my head. 

"What was that?" I demanded loudly, not enjoying how high-pitch my voice had become. 

"I named you," Mikha'el said, nodding once, as though I should have fucking just known that. 

I gaped. 

"That name is a part of you now." It occurred to him all at once what he had done, and he brought a finger to his lips. "Oh dear…" 

I straightened and had my very first outburst. "Next time do you fucking think you could have the common fucking courtesy to fucking warn me before you-you-brand my soul?!" 

Mikha'el gave me a grin, his hand dropping away. "Ah, there's the Ulcinin I know and love! I was wondering why you were acting so timid." 

I let out a livid shout of disbelief. No words, just anger ripping out of my throat. To my displeasure (okay, that's an understatement, I kinda wanted to rip his face off right then) he continued to smile at me. 

"That was a very apt description of what I did. I'm impressed you understood that so naturally." 

Panting, I clutched at my chest. The worst of it was over, but my eyes still felt strained, and I was feeling something akin to heartburn. 

"Also, no, I cannot warn you next time. There isn't going to be a next time." He furrowed his brow, turned his head to the side, finger back on his lips. "There shouldn't be, anyway." 

"What do you mean, shouldn't be?" I outright shrieked. 

Words and phrases that would have put the worst sailor to shame exploded out of me. If my first outburst didn't gain attention, that one certainly did. Angels outright gawked at me. I didn't care. I was so blinded by anger I'm still to this day not exactly sure what all I said. It was bad. It was all very, very bad. 

I stopped my (probably) unintelligible ranting punctuated by (loud) cussing when Mikha'el laughed. He laughed. No one else was laughing, not the angels throwing me scornful reproaches as they muttered to themselves, and I sure as shit was not laughing. Then Mikha'el had the balls to wrap his arm around my shoulders, turning me toward the library. 

"Come, Ulcinin, let us read now." 

I glared as hard as I could and said quietly, "You're a bastard. You're a bastard, and I hate you." 

"No you don't, you love me." 

This is the first time since that day that I openly admit he was right. 

He led me up the stone steps (I was still muttering obscenities under my breath) and paused before a door that was a good twelve feet taller than we were. The double-doors were plain blocks of concrete, but the large vertical handles were ornate, twisted bronze, both end caps entwined into balls with ornamental swirling carvings of geometric shapes. I was beginning to notice this; most everything in Heaven was nothing to write home about, but there were gorgeous little details kissed throughout. The lampposts that lined the streets were wrought iron; the flames themselves were kept in globes of twisted, swirling black metal. Buildings were plain and grey, but edged with strips of metals—silver, gold, bronze. Roofs had carved facades, depicting anything from fruit to great battles waged between Heaven and Hell. These all had meaning, I was sure of it, but what it all meant eluded me right then. 

The smell that waffed upon me as soon as Mikha'el threw open one massive door (like it was nothing) overwhelmed me. After getting punched in the face with the smell, I realized it wasn't bad, just pungent; it was the smell of paper. Lots and lots and lots of paper. 

"Sh," an angel said, standing in a rounded desk at the middle of the room. He had blonde hair, much like Mikha'el's, but it was more wavy than curled. He also had green eyes compared to Mikha'el's blue hues, and he was much paler. So pale, in fact, he looked sickly. He wore a long red robe that reminded me of flames immediately. 

For some reason I was immediately intimidated by this one. As Mikha'el led to right up to him, I cast my eyes down. Yet even as I did so, my pride suddenly welled within me. I lifted my head once more, looking at the angel behind the desk in defiance. This angel flicked his eyes at me for a moment, causing me to shudder. However, he looked mildly amused and looked away, back at Mikha'el. Once we stood directly before him (I hadn't realized at first the round desk was raised, and the red clad angel stared down at us), the amused look turned into a deep frown. 

"Mikha'el," the red angel hissed. "I heard you both all the way in here!" 

"Auriel," Mikha'el said with a big shit-eating grin, "this is Ulcinin." 

"I know who he is, you named him right outside the blasted door!" Auriel snapped. "You might as well set off a bomb, why don't you!" 

Mikha'el snorted, looking bored. 

"And you!" 

I damn near shrank away. But for whatever reason I felt like this angel was important. I had never done well with authority—I remembered that much from my mortal life—so I met the harsh green gaze evenly. 

"You can't just go about squawking like that!" Auriel snapped, tossing his hands in the air in disgust. 

"Do you have any idea what he did?" I replied through clenched teeth. "It hurt. A lot." 

Auriel blinked. The tension curled around him visibly disappeared. And when he spoke then and the words were harsh, the tone was the opposite. In fact, he sounded mildly, if not begrudgingly, impressed. 

"Yes, I know what he did." He glared at Mikha'el. "He should have warned you." 

Mikha'el shrugged. 

Dropping all pretenses, Auriel collapsed forward, elbows resting on the desk and burying his face in his hands. "Ugh, I told God this was a bad idea…" 

Mikha'el laughed. Several angels turned to him and shooshed. He paid no heed. 

"You told God?" Mikha'el clicked his tongue. "Ohhh, sounds rather blasphemous, Auriel. I am disappointed in you." 

Auriel glared, even though there were traces of levity in his eyes. "Shut up." 

Mikha'el laughed again. Auriel righted himself and smoothed the front of his crimson robe. Leaning forward he extended a hand down to me, giving a look of displeasure at Mikha'el. "You should at the very least tell him to mind his elders." 

Auriel looked at me. I went to go shake his hand. But at the last second, Mikha'el grabbed my wrist. He was looking at Auriel in a deadly way. 

"No." 

Auriel looked surprised. "No?" 

Mikha'el shoved my hand down. Looking pleased and fluttering his wings a little, he stood straighter. "I don't want you tainting him. I have decided to teach him the old fashioned way." 

"The old fashioned—Mik! That will take eons!" 

Mikha'el sniffed and stuck his nose into the air. "No it will not." 

"You are insufferable." 

"What ruffled your feathers the wrong way today?" 

Auriel's eyes flashed—literally. I gulped. Picking up a black quill and giving a final reproachful gaze at Mikha'el, he flicked his wrist. "Do as you will, Mikha'el. Thank you for the introduction. Good day." 

Mikha'el bowed, though I couldn't tell if it were sincere or mocking. Regardless Auriel ignored him, scribbling furiously on some parchment I couldn't see. 

"Come, Ulcinin," Mikha'el urged, sweeping away around the desk. With a final glance at Auriel, I hurried after Mikha'el. 

I was simply brimming with questions. For some reason the least important was the one that tumbled from my lips first. "Did he call you Mik?" 

Mikha'el shifted his eyes to glance at me, appearing very bemused. "That he did, in fact. We are brothers and are familiar with one another as such." 

"Oh." 

Mikha'el gave me another slanted look. "Why does that surprise you?" 

"You seem very important." 

Now he looked intrigued. "Oh? Explain what you mean, please." 

I didn't know it now, but Mikha'el rarely said please to anyone. He didn't have to. 

"Well, your wings for one," I explained. "I have only seen one other angel with six wings." 

"Auriel has six," Mikha'el replied smoothly, and I could tell he was cooly gaging my reaction from the corner of his eye. I suddenly felt as though I was being tested; I could feel myself flush, wanting to make Mikha'el pleased. 

"That's still only three our of dozens of angels I have seen." 

Mikha'el gave a snort, conceding. "Anything else?" 

"You wear a uniform, but it isn't just that." 

Mikha'el swiveled his head, eyebrows raised, clearly intrigued. 

"There's also the fact how everyone acts around you. They're explicitly respectful, with the exception of Auriel." 

"And you," Mikha'el said with a quick wink. 

I blushed. I really, really didn't like that my guardian angel made me such a blushing, wings-twitching in happiness, mess. Swallowing thickly, I pressed on. 

"Angel's dispositions around you notwithstanding, I noticed the piping on your uniform is the only uniform that bears green." 

Mikha'el looked impressed, and I fucking basked in it. I rose my eyebrows, keeping my face impassive even though I knew damn well my observations had been correct.

"Unless I am mistaken and I just have yet to see others with the green on their uniforms?" 

Mikha'el barked out a laugh, clapping me on the shoulder a few times. "Ulcinin, come now, you know you're correct. You smart ass," he added in a hushed voice, grinning. 

I couldn't help but grin myself. 

"What other questions do you have? I know you have more." 

I opened my mouth to make an observation that he knew me so well already, but he cut me off. 

"Of course I know you; I have been watching you for years." 

Normally that would have disquieted me; it sounded borderline stalkerish. Yet it was somehow comforting. Even so, a thought popped into my head, and I narrowed my eyes. 

"How are you doing that?" 

"Hm?" Mikha'el asked we they turned a corner, plunging further into the bowels of the library. 

"Are you—how do you know what I'm thinking?" 

Mikha'el sounded amused and snapped his head in a curt nod. "Read your mind, yes. I will teach you how." 

I could feel my eyes widen. 

"Rather, you can right now, you just don't know how to yet." 

With that declaration, the final question bothering me sprang to my mind. For reasons I couldn't quite pin down, Auriel made me nervous. Even thinking about him put me on edge. I slowed my pace, and Mikha'el did likewise, until I stopped walking all together. When I spoke I hated how unsure I sounded, and the fact I couldn't pick my head up to look anywhere but the floor. 

"What did he mean?" 

"Auriel?" 

I nodded. 

"Regarding?" 

I took a deep breath, sweeping my head up to lock eyes with Mikha'el. "He said—he seemed rather displeased with you." 

Mikha'el snorted, crossing his arms. "Ah yes, well, as siblings it's my birthright to get under his skin from time to time." 

I cocked an eyebrow. 

"I mean, he is not—ah, it's confusing to you—he is not related to me? No angels are. However we were made in tandem, so he is the closest thing to kin I have." 

"So he's not literally your brother?" 

Mikha'el smiled. "Exactly!" 

I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. "That's not my question though. It didn't sound like he was—pleased—that you have taken me under your wing." I paused. "Pun not intended." 

For a second I could have sworn that I saw Mikha'el look sad. Knowing him as I do now, I know he actually was sad in that moment. But back then it was just a brief flicker, something you wouldn't have even known was there… And maybe it's because he was my guardian angel, but in that moment I saw his true emotion even though he hid it behind a shrug and a smile. 

"I could very easily just poke your forehead and implant all of our knowledge into you. Simply dump everything in. It would be as much strain for me and pouring out a full pitcher of water."

We began to walk again and I followed, silent, as the murmurs from other angels became more and more muffled, lost and buffered by the thick tomes we were getting lost in. 

"For you, however, dear Ulcinin?" Mikha'el tutted. "You would have a headache for days. You would be soup for the first one. I've seen it happen, time and time again." He smiled at me. "I can't do that to you; I can't make you stuffer so." 

My wings did their happy bird-like twitch again. 

He sighed then. "Even so, it is highly unusual for me to teach you through books. Frowned upon. Not forbidden, just highly unconventional."

We had come to stop, seemingly arbitrarily. Mikha'el clasped his hands behind his back and bent at the waist, giving me a rueful, gummy smile that was conspiratorial. "But, you know what I think?" 

I rose an eyebrow. 

"Fuck conventions." He patted my arm once and then righted himself, still grinning. "Besides, it's better this way. You will retain the information better if you have to work for it." 

I grinned. 

Mikha'el held out his right hand. "Book." 

To my shock, a book flew out of the shelf, nearly taking my nose off as it whizzed past my head. It landed with a resounding thud in his hands. I stared at him, bewildered. 

"Welcome to Metatron, the living library Auriel protects."