Fic: Thrones and Angels
Aug. 13th, 2009 12:17 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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spn_summergenTitle:Thrones and Angels.
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rodlox (keenir)
Recipient:floranna
Rating: PG
Prompt: Castiel and Uriel, before the shit hit the fan.
Summary: Another day, another task to perform for their commanders. This time, though, Uriel and Castiel are sent to question one of the universe’s most powerful entities.
Spoilers: Vague ones for this current season – if you know who the SPN angels are, you won’t be spoiled. ;)
Author’s notes: In most texts, the Thrones are the highest form of angels, though some put the Seraphim between them and God.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Revelation means an unveiling, a revealing. It is how commands are given to beings Created from light itself.
And Castiel was granted revelation less than an hour after he and his unit had cut the legs out from an attempt by the Frost Giants to create a base of power independent of both Heaven and Hell. By how humans measure time, it was only two days since the Fall of Anna. But that was immaterial to any concerns, for one reason.
For the soldiers of the Heavenly Host, downtime was few and far between – but then, they had not been Created to take breaks or to go on vacations. Their purpose was to perform the will of Heaven, and so they do. From the highest Thrones to the lowest Angel, their reason for being was obedience.
Which was why Castiel and his squad had been sent here, to this place on Earth that was remoter than any isle known to humans.
Having extinguished in battle the burning guardians of this island, Castiel and Uriel alit on the onyx shoreline, nothing but their angelic cadre flanking them, the glass-flat sea behind them and, ahead, once-neatly-layered rocks that were now as jutting and scattered as a poker player’s nightmare shuffle. In there, Castiel knew, are the illegal golems.
“Letsapot!” Uriel shouted the name of the one they were here for. There was no point in trying to surround or ambush this individual: it was a Throne, the highest form of angelic being.
With startling abruptness, Letsapot answered, “You are here. Why?” Thrones were silent. Even to the extensive senses of an angel of Castiel’s type, Thrones were preternaturally silent. They also steadfastly refused to use human bodies like Castiel and Uriel were presently hosted within.
Castiel kept his wings tucked in, refusing to give in to the urge to flatten himself on the ground like sunlight on marble, and he forced himself to look up. He and Uriel were angels, created to be the sharp end of the Heavenly Host’s right hand…and that sharpness could be snipped out of existence by a Throne -- or at least a loyal one. Letsapot being Fallen, Castiel wasn’t sure if it could still do that.
The nearest eye was half a meter above Castiel’s forehead, just one of a dozen eyes ringing the Fallen wheel. Another eye was lazily watching Uriel.
“You are to give an account,” Uriel told it. “Should you refuse, we -”
“Depart,” Letsapot the Throne interrupted.
“Not until you confess to what you were doing.”
Feeling buoyed, encouraged by Uriel’s presence and example, Castiel added, “We know you’re experimenting with golems.” And not common run-of-the-millhouse golems either; these were more sophisticated than most mobile security systems.
“Yes,” Letsapot said.
The admission was unexpected; Castiel wondered if his surprise was a colored expectation from how long he’d been fighting demons. “That can’t be done without sacred words.”
The wheel tilted, rotating enough for another eye to stare down at Castiel. As if to say, Before I Rebelled, I was one of the supports for the Holy Seat of Him. Where do you think I found the words? “Yes,” was all it said.
“We have orders,” Uriel said. And we will carry out those orders.
“Yes. I am aware. You must obey the formalities.”
Uriel wondered if this Throne was holding back, or if its majesty and power had been lost when it Fell; such a figure should have no more difficulty crushing his danwei – his team, his tight-knit band of brothers, his comrades-in-arms – than a mountain would in crushing a human. Uriel knew that Thrones only looked small. “That’s right,” he agreed.
“You seek an explanation? That is why you were sent.”
“We’d prefer your cooperation,” Uriel said to the only Throne to have ever survived the Rebelling. “But if you refuse…” Uriel leaving the warning hanging like shattered church stained glass.
“Your willingness to risk perishing does you no credit.”
“None?” Castiel asked.
Uriel didn’t turn, but Castiel knew a part of Uriel was glaring admonishingly at him.
“It is your purpose,” the Throne reminded the angels. “My labors here are related to that principle.”
Uriel stood aside to let Castiel ask what needed to be asked.
“So you’re making an army?” Castiel asked. “Golems to fight and die for you?”
There was the rush of winds around them, ruffling their wings. Castiel and Uriel hoped that that was how Thrones laughed. “Were that my aim, I would require no words more complex than breath.”
“Then what is your aim?”
“To fufill the terms of what sparked the Second Rebellion.”
“Second?” Uriel repeated, echoed by Castiel, with puzzlement throughout the danwei.
“The Great Rebellion,” Letsapot clarified.
“Lucifer disobeyed,” Uriel said.
The air around them went deathly still.
“It’s true,” Castiel said.
“Yes. Though Lucifer was not the spark. Think, soldiers of the Host. What commandment caused Lucifer’s actions?”
“To bow to Man.”
“Yes,” the Throne confirmed. “That all orders must bow to the things of clay.”
‘All orders.’ Beings of light like the angels, of ice like the vanir, of fire like the jinn, of smoke like the demons, of water and immortality and every other element.
“So you are trying to make golems more human?”
“All things of clay must be worthy of His Commandment,” was the legalese answer of the Throne Letsapot.
“They are worthy,” Uriel said, “by virtue of His Saying it.”
That ruffling wind again. “He made humans. Humans make golems. Master and slave are never equal – if they are, then humans are His equal.”
Castiel’s dander went up, dangerous spikes of reflexive anger and conscious disagreement, but his was a pale shadow of Uriel’s.
The wind quieted down, and Letsapot said, “You have had your audience and received answers. Depart now, or assist me.”
“And if we do neither?” Castiel pressed, feeling a surge of support-approval from Uriel and the others in their danwei.
“If you feel you must fight me,” the Throne informed them, “then you have already lost.”
“Then you’ll come peacefully?” Uriel asked.
“You were sent to be answered. Go relay the answers before you rashly act.” And as soon as that was said, the Throne was suddenly radiant and glorious and terrifying.
The Throne was clearly in full and faith-filled servitude, Uriel thought to himself, motioning in the glare for Castiel and their unit to return to their barracks. Therefore, in light of the Obedience, there was nothing else for the angels to do here. Nothing yet, anyway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“We have to have faith, Dean. […] And we’re killed if we don’t have it.”
--Anna.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End
Author’s note: “Letsapot” means “Obedience.”
Author:
rodlox (keenir)Recipient:
florannaRating: PG
Prompt: Castiel and Uriel, before the shit hit the fan.
Summary: Another day, another task to perform for their commanders. This time, though, Uriel and Castiel are sent to question one of the universe’s most powerful entities.
Spoilers: Vague ones for this current season – if you know who the SPN angels are, you won’t be spoiled. ;)
Author’s notes: In most texts, the Thrones are the highest form of angels, though some put the Seraphim between them and God.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Revelation means an unveiling, a revealing. It is how commands are given to beings Created from light itself.
And Castiel was granted revelation less than an hour after he and his unit had cut the legs out from an attempt by the Frost Giants to create a base of power independent of both Heaven and Hell. By how humans measure time, it was only two days since the Fall of Anna. But that was immaterial to any concerns, for one reason.
For the soldiers of the Heavenly Host, downtime was few and far between – but then, they had not been Created to take breaks or to go on vacations. Their purpose was to perform the will of Heaven, and so they do. From the highest Thrones to the lowest Angel, their reason for being was obedience.
Which was why Castiel and his squad had been sent here, to this place on Earth that was remoter than any isle known to humans.
Having extinguished in battle the burning guardians of this island, Castiel and Uriel alit on the onyx shoreline, nothing but their angelic cadre flanking them, the glass-flat sea behind them and, ahead, once-neatly-layered rocks that were now as jutting and scattered as a poker player’s nightmare shuffle. In there, Castiel knew, are the illegal golems.
“Letsapot!” Uriel shouted the name of the one they were here for. There was no point in trying to surround or ambush this individual: it was a Throne, the highest form of angelic being.
With startling abruptness, Letsapot answered, “You are here. Why?” Thrones were silent. Even to the extensive senses of an angel of Castiel’s type, Thrones were preternaturally silent. They also steadfastly refused to use human bodies like Castiel and Uriel were presently hosted within.
Castiel kept his wings tucked in, refusing to give in to the urge to flatten himself on the ground like sunlight on marble, and he forced himself to look up. He and Uriel were angels, created to be the sharp end of the Heavenly Host’s right hand…and that sharpness could be snipped out of existence by a Throne -- or at least a loyal one. Letsapot being Fallen, Castiel wasn’t sure if it could still do that.
The nearest eye was half a meter above Castiel’s forehead, just one of a dozen eyes ringing the Fallen wheel. Another eye was lazily watching Uriel.
“You are to give an account,” Uriel told it. “Should you refuse, we -”
“Depart,” Letsapot the Throne interrupted.
“Not until you confess to what you were doing.”
Feeling buoyed, encouraged by Uriel’s presence and example, Castiel added, “We know you’re experimenting with golems.” And not common run-of-the-millhouse golems either; these were more sophisticated than most mobile security systems.
“Yes,” Letsapot said.
The admission was unexpected; Castiel wondered if his surprise was a colored expectation from how long he’d been fighting demons. “That can’t be done without sacred words.”
The wheel tilted, rotating enough for another eye to stare down at Castiel. As if to say, Before I Rebelled, I was one of the supports for the Holy Seat of Him. Where do you think I found the words? “Yes,” was all it said.
“We have orders,” Uriel said. And we will carry out those orders.
“Yes. I am aware. You must obey the formalities.”
Uriel wondered if this Throne was holding back, or if its majesty and power had been lost when it Fell; such a figure should have no more difficulty crushing his danwei – his team, his tight-knit band of brothers, his comrades-in-arms – than a mountain would in crushing a human. Uriel knew that Thrones only looked small. “That’s right,” he agreed.
“You seek an explanation? That is why you were sent.”
“We’d prefer your cooperation,” Uriel said to the only Throne to have ever survived the Rebelling. “But if you refuse…” Uriel leaving the warning hanging like shattered church stained glass.
“Your willingness to risk perishing does you no credit.”
“None?” Castiel asked.
Uriel didn’t turn, but Castiel knew a part of Uriel was glaring admonishingly at him.
“It is your purpose,” the Throne reminded the angels. “My labors here are related to that principle.”
Uriel stood aside to let Castiel ask what needed to be asked.
“So you’re making an army?” Castiel asked. “Golems to fight and die for you?”
There was the rush of winds around them, ruffling their wings. Castiel and Uriel hoped that that was how Thrones laughed. “Were that my aim, I would require no words more complex than breath.”
“Then what is your aim?”
“To fufill the terms of what sparked the Second Rebellion.”
“Second?” Uriel repeated, echoed by Castiel, with puzzlement throughout the danwei.
“The Great Rebellion,” Letsapot clarified.
“Lucifer disobeyed,” Uriel said.
The air around them went deathly still.
“It’s true,” Castiel said.
“Yes. Though Lucifer was not the spark. Think, soldiers of the Host. What commandment caused Lucifer’s actions?”
“To bow to Man.”
“Yes,” the Throne confirmed. “That all orders must bow to the things of clay.”
‘All orders.’ Beings of light like the angels, of ice like the vanir, of fire like the jinn, of smoke like the demons, of water and immortality and every other element.
“So you are trying to make golems more human?”
“All things of clay must be worthy of His Commandment,” was the legalese answer of the Throne Letsapot.
“They are worthy,” Uriel said, “by virtue of His Saying it.”
That ruffling wind again. “He made humans. Humans make golems. Master and slave are never equal – if they are, then humans are His equal.”
Castiel’s dander went up, dangerous spikes of reflexive anger and conscious disagreement, but his was a pale shadow of Uriel’s.
The wind quieted down, and Letsapot said, “You have had your audience and received answers. Depart now, or assist me.”
“And if we do neither?” Castiel pressed, feeling a surge of support-approval from Uriel and the others in their danwei.
“If you feel you must fight me,” the Throne informed them, “then you have already lost.”
“Then you’ll come peacefully?” Uriel asked.
“You were sent to be answered. Go relay the answers before you rashly act.” And as soon as that was said, the Throne was suddenly radiant and glorious and terrifying.
The Throne was clearly in full and faith-filled servitude, Uriel thought to himself, motioning in the glare for Castiel and their unit to return to their barracks. Therefore, in light of the Obedience, there was nothing else for the angels to do here. Nothing yet, anyway.
“We have to have faith, Dean. […] And we’re killed if we don’t have it.”
--Anna.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The End
Author’s note: “Letsapot” means “Obedience.”
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