The gentle scent of the days rain had long ago faded, and yet there was still a hint of its fragrance in the air. A soft breeze blew through the open windows, bringing the sounds and attar of the night beyond in to the room. Just beyond those windows were the vast gardens of the Otherworld compound, their faint scents and sounds mixing against those of Los Angeles. The volumes of books, lining the walls on either side from floor to ceiling were ignored. The comforts of plush, heavy seating were abandoned.
The occupants inside paid it no mind, however. The subtle beauties of Earth were of no interest to either at the moment. Each was preoccupied, but both with very different agendas.
His hands busy shuffling the papers on his large wooden desk, Jonathan sighed. This office was his private space, and one that he usually found solace in. In the weeks leading up to this day, he had felt increasingly sure of his place. Even more certain that the fate of the Fallen would be resolved, and all his hard work would be granted absolution.
That had not been the case. He had realized it only moments after first entering the Summit hall, as the gazes of the messengers fell upon him. He was not of the gift to read minds, but he hadn't needed to be. Despite their lack of expression they were still easily read by those who knew them.
They had been judged before the meeting had even begun.
This hadn't been the first time such a meeting had not turned the results he had desired. For seven hundred years, they had all ended the same. His father, his grandfather, his great grandfather; all Leads of the Fallen, all facing the same disappointment. But even so, Jonathan couldn't help but feel angry that yet again they had been denied.
Now, in the aftermath, he faced another issue entirely.
Yerachmiel had appeared. This was something that, to some, might be considered a benefit. That he was still aware of their fate, that the Angel was still invested in what was happening to them on Earth. But to Jonathan, the fact the archangel had materialized in that hall showed just how thin his patience now ran.
A feeling that was now confirmed, as in the days to come, Jonathan would be faced with a foe unfamiliar. Angels. True, pure Angels would now be determining the fate of the thousands of Fallen on Earth, and do so in the course of less than three months. To Jonathan, it was absurd. If the messengers and the Fallen had not been able to find resolutions over centuries, how three Angels, knowing nothing of Earth and life with humanity would find a just verdict was senseless.
But that was not the focus of the opponent in the room. Micah cared very little for the events of the day, or for the coming of the Angels. News travelled quickly through the community, of the quick downturn of the meeting, and the appearance of the Angel of Earth. Micah knew this was his chance to make his case.
"I understand you have other issues on your mind, Jonathan," Micah said, clasping his hands behind his back. He remained standing in front of Jonathans' desk, as the man continued to fret and ponder the implications of his fate.
"That I do," Jonathan said with a snap. His eyes quickly jumped to Micah, immediately nervous. He knew to cross the son of a messenger, especially in this climate, would be foolish. Regardless of his own tensions.
Micah, however, was unfazed.
"I do not wish to add to your troubles," he continued. "I am fully aware of how the meeting today turned, and of what is to come in terms of the fate of your group."
Jonathans' eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, before he leaned back against his chair. Abandoning the papers in front of him, the frantic plans for the appearance of the Angels, he now granted Micah his full attention.
Micah's lips turned up to a grin.
"The tensions between the Fallen and the messengers are increasing. To a point that I fear may be irreversible. I am here to offer you a possible...option."
Jonathan kept his gaze even on the young man across from him. Tall, slim and dark, he did not have the usual appearance most equated with the messengers. Of light, fair skin, and impeccability. His hair was a shocking black, his eyes dark. The contrast against his pale skin and messenger attire was stark. But despite his youth, he carried himself with assurance, strength and confidence. Micah was young, at only twenty.
And yet, he had already surpassed his father's influence among the messengers of the community. Taking his fathers seat in the sub committee when the patriarch turned ill, Micah was known for his fair hand. With the gift of reason, of course, it would be impossible to deny his influence in most matters.
But there was something more. Something deeper to Micah than merely his presence and stance between two sides that rarely saw eye to eye. He was smart, and strategic. The son of a messenger and a Fallen, he was able to play both sides well. Whether this was to the benefit or determent of either, remained to be seen.
"And what option would that be?" Jonathan finally asked.
"As you know, my father was a messenger. My mother a Fallen. I know this joining is a rarity, but one that both sides seemed to accept with grace."
"Both your parents are well respected," Jonathan interjected. "Regardless of their sides."
"Which is why, I feel my offer is one that could be of benefit to everyone involved."
Jonathan struggled to keep his composure in this round about. He was tired and in no mood for subtle game play. "So again, I ask, what is this offer you speak of?"
Keeping his face impassive, Micah inclined his head.
"I come here to request the hand of your daughter," Micah stated firmly. "I feel our joining can strengthen the Otherworld, and quite certainly gain the Fallen favor with the messengers. And in turn, the Angels."
Jonathan's eyes widened.
Micah grinned at the reaction. "I don't feel I need to remind you of my family's status."
Clearing his throat, Jonathan swallowed. "You do not."
"And as the leader of the Fallen, you in turn pass that status to Harper."
Jonathan remained silent, but his mind was anything but. He knew his position was one of power, but it was also precarious. Always balanced on the tip of a knife, considering the implications of both sides cast to Earth. The messengers were here to observe and judge the Fallen. But in turn, they were also cast out of heaven for this role. Regardless of his power, matched against that of the messengers, it was never equal. There was always a subtle power struggle, even if both sides were actually fighting for the same thing.
Micah took the opportunity to finish. "I am aware of her...less than abstinent stance with regard to human influence. I am also aware that this is one of the largest contributing factors to why you have been declined forgiveness. She is not the only one, of course, but again, with her status, she is one of the more noted Fallen of stray."
"And yet, you wish to marry her?"
Micah bowed his head. "I do. She is....insatiable."
"I wasn't aware you and Harper knew each other well." Jonathan pointed out.
"Not well, no," Micah admitted. "But we do know each other. Our paths have crossed many times, and each time, she has left a mark on me. She has a passion, is vivacious, and exudes a combination of angelic grace and human frailty unmatched by any I have ever met."
When Jonathan had still to respond in favor, Micah played his final hand.
"I am aware that this is coming as a surprise to you, Lead. As I admit my own incentive for this sudden appearance was solely based in the downturn of events after today. I feel my offer is your greatest chance at redemption. As I am certain I don't have to remind you of the unlikelihood of the Angels ruling in your favor."
Jonathan's jaw tensed, and yet he remained otherwise unchanged.
He had known already of Micah's interest in Harper. It was her gift, and her curse, her influence over others, especially men. Of all the talents given to Fallen children, his daughter had been given the most dangerous to their cause.
And she knew it.
As his eyes appraised Micah, Jonathan felt torn. He knew, without a doubt, that Harper would recoil from such an arrangement. Probably with quite an impressive and humanistic display of mortal anger and teenage upset. She had never taken well to being told what to do, and certainly did not care much for the pursuit of redemption. Her belief that the Fallen were more human than Angel was one she was never hesitant to share, and one that despite her eloquence, Jonathan refused to take the side of.
And yet, the offer was tempting. He knew the Angels were unlikely to grant a positive verdict, regardless of how well the next several months went. Impartial or not, human life was not something easily navigated. And certainly not easy to combine with a path to heaven's forgiveness. By joining with Micah's family, it would be the first step in bringing the two sides closer together. And in turn, possibly, closer to a common ground that would find the Fallen absolved.
But his daughter....
Clearing his throat, Jonathan sat forward, folding his hands on his desk.
"I will consider your proposal," he said firmly. "But I cannot grant my permission. Harper is only seventeen. She is not yet of the age allowed to marry. You know the laws."
"I do," Micah nodded. "And I am also aware that her eighteenth birthday falls on the summer solstice. Rather fitting, I thought, since that was also the deadline given by Yerachmiel for the Angels verdict. If it were to fall on the side of disfavor, perhaps our union may alter that fate."
Again, Jonathan's features tightened.
A heavy silence passed between the two, neither relenting.
Finally, Jonathan sighed.
"I stand by my promise. I will consider your proposal, Micah. But nothing can be done until Harper reaches the age of eighteen." Exhaling deeply, he regarded the younger man carefully. "I ask in this time you spend it getting to know Harper. To truly know her. She is, as you said, passionate and vivacious. But she is also stubborn and strong willed. For me to pass her hand this way, I cannot promise her good grace. Therefore, I ask that you spend this time winning it for yourself."
Micah's smile increased, despite the challenge presented.
"I consider it an honor, Lead,"
With a nod of his head, Jonathan dismissed Micah, the latter turning and leaving the office without another word.
Once alone, Jonathan exhaled, covering his face with his hands.