A/N : Hi guys so a new story i hope you all like it my very first attempt at a supernatural stuff.

Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots, of angels.

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Coveted Realm Of Archangels

She dipped her trim long index finger in the mercury like fluid swirling in a large china bowl, creating ripples which unraveled a scene wrought with gore and violence. Angels with their swords clashing, wings fluttering and bodies falling. Many lay like lifeless dolls with their wings burnt to ashes and many more still fought each other while roaring fires torched the once lush scenery of the third oasis of Archenheim.

A discord between two of the exalted races of Archangels "The Farthas" and "The Cerwas" spanning over a millenia, yielding affliction, famine and dearth in abundance.

A product of one fallen Archangel's greed and lust, a century old "Fartha Prince" raping a young maiden of "Cerwa" betrothed to the "Cerwa Prince". The desecration of her body and spirit and later on her life wrung out a war among the greatest Archangel brotherhood of the realms.

Her tear fell merging with the fluid and rain started pouring on the battlefield, snuffing out a few fires.

A hand on her shoulder imparted the much needed vigor.

"Our progeny is dying at the hands of each other, and for what an ancient vow of retribution and an instinct to prove who bests the other. This is not how my offspring were destined to populate the Archenheim. This is not my legacy, Liorin." she faced him with fury and distress shadowing her fierce blue gaze. Her wings fluttered open, and her beloved Liorin traced soothing fingers down her glistening gold feathers to comfort her disquiet.

The stunning spiral pattern of the coal black engravings on his hands had always been her kryptonite, wanting to imbibe strength from her weakness, his hands. She held onto them when he caressed her face.

His voice a deep baritone that stirred her desires, and stroked her passion with the whispers uttered at night, calmed her, "How can I ease your dismay, Viviera? I bear this burden on my heart more than you, for had I not blessed Prince Riordak with the mysticals of Archenheim he would have not been blinded by his baser urges.

Liorin's amber eyes dulled, pain and anguish plucking away their brilliance. His wings tucked behind his back. The crisscrossing tattoos on his muscled shoulders tapered down his torso between his stunning wings.

"It is not your cross to bear. He earned the mysticals for his resilience and fortitude. He who is the strongest and most resilient is entitled to them by right and by rules of the realm. A boon of magicks from Mystics, the nourishers and energy forces maintaining the balance in nature." her golden wings rustled, bringing on a mirage of flames.

"But those mysticals,those magicks led him on a path of madness and unfettered greed, to possess what wasn't rightfully his." his jaw clenched when reminded of Riordak's betrayal to the vows of the realm.

Viviera turned away from his handsome warrior unite`, her soulmate bound to her for an eternity. The deity of courage, power and mysticals. Raised from a mere mortal warrior to a deity for his fortitude and bravado, an honor of highest decree from Mystics.

Raising her palms she began chanting in their ancient language, Arhen.

Liorin stood by her side, his firm lips pressed together in a grim smile, a small cleft in his strong chin and laugh lines around his eyes, which roughened with age lended him an old wise air. Her chant a pray to the Mystics of the nature, a desperate plea to end an era of war.

Guardians and deities of the Archangels, Liorin and Viviera bore the burden of a million deaths in the wake of discord.

Her chants grew louder, Liorin braced himself for the torment he knew she doled each time. His unite`, the deity of maidenhood, beauty and ferocity, had a kind heart which bled for her sons and daughters, both of Fartha and Cerwas.

Helplessly he beheld his lover take pain as an indemnity for her calling on the Mystics.

She levitated, her straight auburn tresses began curling, cantillating Arhen channeling the Mystic Deities.

A rush of icy winds reverberated through the throne room, rocking the milky white walls of the Fort of Verhara, home of the Guardians and Deities.

"Greed shall burn, lust shall perish, a youngling, a savior shall rise from the seed of two lovers yet nemesis. A passion thriving amongst the reapers of war, a love growing sheltered from the harbingers of hate. A love like Liorin and Viviera. And yet darkness shall afflict one or the other, feasting on their souls, relishing the taste of an unadulterated devotion. Unless they surrender the one which they cherish above all, an oblation for us " The Mystics who hold the fate of Archenheim , a dying leaf which withers but a bud springs from it's stem. A bud, an offering, a sacrifice. Prepare for we shall return for the youngling, the bud a reckoning for the blood that taints Archenheim. A hetacomb for all the suffering The Archangels hailed on this virgin land."

Liorin caught her as Viviera fell limp, the Mystics leaving her frail. Running gentle fingers on her face, he poured his essence to strengthen her.

"They heard my pleas, Liorin. It's beginning."

"What is, my love?" Liorin's fingers left a trail of glow and energy as he traced her emaciated form in the wake of channeling Mystics.

"The end of the war."

Flaming hot winds blew through the hall of Verhara. A cackle of a melodious laughter rang out behind them.

"The end of the war, you say? Never little sister."

"Siliera?" Viviera gasped, now fully rejuvenated she stood in Liorin's arms to face her only sibling, an elder sister by blood. But blood was only what they shared, Siliera's once handsome features now ragged, a payment for acquiring the Unholies, dark mysticals that bred lust, greed and bloodshed.

Long grey tresses threaded her ebony hair and her wings a brilliant flaming red against her silver silk robe, bejeweled with the crest of unholy Mystics.

Liorin unsheathed his sword gazing at Siliera's face with hatred.

"The two who shall bear the youngling shall perish before the bud blossoms. The unholies shall rise for darkness consumes one and kills the other. And Archenheim would come aglow with towering fires feeded by your children."

Her wings came ablaze. Liorin attacked but Siliera was nothing more than a mirage, her soma protected behind the gates of Fort of Unholies.

Another cackle, "You seek to defeat me, to re-live the glory you reaped by banishing me to the Unholy Fort in The Old War. The honor of becoming a deity attained at the price of my soul and soma separated and chained. You shall die when I rise, Liorin."

Floating towards Viviera her eyes blazed orange.

"How do you rest in his arms? In the lap of your sister's murderer? You suffer as a penance for my tribulations, little sister."

"I rest full with the peace of bringing evil down on its heels. You brought your fall to yourself. Liorin and I were fated to bring your ruin for you had brought sacrilege to the Mystics with your greed and lust."

"Rest in peace you shall but not long. For I shall emerge when they kiss to unfold a future so ghastly that peace would turn a fervent wish and nothing more. None shall remain but my acolytes, the demons who shall bury your Archengels , your children for eternity. Farewell, dear sister." and then she vanished.

They reached for each other's arms. "She rises, Liorin. And with her the demons."

"She is the darkness that shall afflict them."

"What shall we do?" Another tear fell and it rained on the deserted lands of Archenheim.

"Wait. Till they journey to each other and then we shall fight to end the war."

Rullem, North Archenheim

Centuries Later

The clop clop of horse's hooves and the rocking motion of the Royal carriage, mirrored the rhythm of her frantic heart. Her mother's cooing phrases didn't ease her worry, "We need to shield you before "The Farthas" discover you are the maiden destined to bear the youngling, the saviour of Archenheim. The Royal Seer has never faltered, not once."

"Why me?" her chin rose in defiance and her wings twitched with agitation.

This business with shielding her maidenhood was ruining her chance to visit the Fair of Salutations. A Fair held triennially, where the war would cease for one day so The Farthas and Cerwas both prayed to Liorin and Viviera, to ask for mercy and forgiveness for the innocent blood shed in the battlefield.

Born with Royal Crest Of Cerwas, the daughter of Cerwas King Hortheil and Queen Elizabeth, Caroline had never been to the Fair in fifteen years of her life.

"The Mystics have chosen you as the mother of a child who shall end the war, there is no greater honor. It is decreed by Liorin and Viviera." Elizabeth combed her frail fingers through her daughter's golden tresses that curled down her waist.

"But why me?"Caroline persisted her pink lips curved in pout and her aquamarine eyes reflected annoyance. "I shall rather fight alongside father to defeat those filthy Farthas than rest my swollen feet while I breed a youngling in my belly."

"My child, you shall do both. But the Royal Seer insists for your protection. There is talk that the demon faction of Farthas, those who worship Siliera make plans to abduct the chosen maiden." a kiss on her head from her mother lended some calm.

"If I do this, may I go to The Fair?"

Denial forth on her mother's lips caused Caroline to insist, "Please Mother. I go back to train for war in eight sunrises. Please Mother?" she batted her lashes and her mother gave her a quick kiss again in a show of agreement.

"My heart is pleased mother." a term of affection common among the Cerwas.

The carriage halted and Caroline peaked out. The dreary dark and the thick forest ensconced The Priestess's Cottage. A shiver coursed through her, perhaps a telling for her future or Archenheim's.


King Hortheils Castle

"It's ink." her ladies maid and her confidant, Mei'em, frowned as she viewed Caroline's shield "an ink etching of a rose entwined with a snake"on her right wrist.

"What did you reckon it would be?"Caroline inquired and Mei'em shrugged off her ebony hair behind her back. She had five ladies maids but Mei'em was her friend. Mei'em's blue eyes riveted to Caroline's gold and orange feathers, a characteristic she longed for rather than her own brown ones.

"I reckoned an actual shield. A weapon of strongest metal of Archenheim."

"The Priestess said the tattoo shall burn any who dwells the desire to hurt me."

Mei'em uttered a sigh as her fingers grazed Caroline's feathers while she combed her mistress's hair.

"Don't start dreaming about my feathers again."

"I can do nothing but dream. They shine like molten gold floating over an orange fire. It's enchanting."

Caroline smiled at Mei'em's reflection in the mirror, seated at her vanity.

"You are smiling my lady. That means we are going to the Fair."

She grasped Mei'em's hands, "Yes. We are. The next sunrise."

Then laughter rang from the Princess's room, as she and Mei'em readied for the next sunrise.


Skiya, The field of Decade Fair of Salutations,

Near the Border of Rullem, the Province of Cerwas and Berwin, the Province of Farthas.

Skiya was the singular land where the war ceased every three great suns. Located at the outskirting border of Rullem and Berwin. Embellished with flowers and large trees on the Cerwas side and ashes and black sand on the Farthas side. Both lands met at the border, an invisible line etched in the soil, that separated the beauty of Cerwas from the ruinous black of the Farthas.

But none were cognizant to the stark contrast today, the day of salutations. And none dared to sabotage this transient truce, the respect and honor of Liorin and Viviera held above their war, for a day.

Stalls were set, younglings frolicked, maidens played and masters busied themselves with harmless games and flirtations.

"This is marvelous, Mei'em. Look how the younglings play, unworried and joyous."

"It is. My lady. But be careful to exhibit your exuberance your wings flutter when you are happy."

Mei'em adjusted Caroline's robe to hide her wings, "No one is to know you are the Princess. Your mother gave us strict orders."

"Lighten up, Mei'em. Let's go play that game." Caroline gestured towards a game of archery with foolish toys as rewards.

She rushed and her yellow skirt twirled around her ankles. Mei'em followed.


"What is the point of this foolishness? Little sister. I don't find this even remotely uplifting." he grumbled as he led his sister Rebekah to a stall of sweets. His glossy black wings flapped twice a clear sign of his distress.

"Niklaus. Be sporting for once in your life of a decade and seven years. Not every sunrise is about war." she glanced at her brother's troubled eyes, the colour of Blue River that flowed through their barren and charred Province.

"My life is nothing but war, as the future King of Farthas that's all that's of import to me."

"Then why did you follow me?" his sister queried getting chafed.

"You sneaked out here. I had to make certain you came to no harm."

"I can wield father's sword as well as any of my four brother's. I'm of age now, and you still deem me incapable of my own farewell."

"It's a matter of protecting you against the Cerwas, they might attack you if they discover you are the Fartha princess."

"None shall endeavour such folly, brother. We all worship Liorin and Viviera and this sunrise to sunset is theirs. You stay here looking morbid I'm going to buy some ribbons."

Then a group of Archangels began dancing in a large circle, a charming melody began playing. Ribbons from maiden frocks and wings of young masters fluttered imparting a vibrant air, a colourful ensemble of dancers, engaging in merriment for just one sunrise.

That's when his topaz eyes found her. A maiden so ensorcelling, with her pale gold hair adorned with pink daisies and her cerulean blue eyes filled with laughter. He felt his breath clogged. He couldn't avert his eyes, taken aback by her innocence and magnificence.

Unmindful he stepped closer , was nudged back by the dancers and her gaze landed on him. Her laughter faded and her lips parted, as if catching a torturous breath. Unbidden awareness and pleasure suffused his pores, a voice screamed inside him to possess her, hold her close until they weren't two but one.

He was handsome, his eyes raking her form with possession. His wings, so glorious the colour of wet soot. Her heart thudded, and her wings fluttered with an unmatched sense of knowing and yet he was none but a stranger.

He moved closer again, panic surged, instinct yelled for her to run, fly far away from him, without a backward glance.

She turned, flew away but gazed back and saw him following.

Horrified Mei'em tried to follow her, but she couldn't parallel her mistresses speedy flight.


"You can never hide from me." he smirked as he landed under an arch of trees behind her, his wings flapping shut.

It was on the far end of the Fair, near a stream that flow silently and lent life to the growing flowers around it.

With a gasp she turned, her wings fluttered open, a spellbinding mix of gold and orange.

He was even more comely from close, with black ink over his arms. In a snug black leather sleeveless shirt and breeches, he had the look of a warrior.

He noticed her appraising his built and he smirked again. "Appreciate what you see?" Then leaning closer he tucked a loose flower back in her hair.

His hands in her hair, his scent when he neared and his eyes staring down deep in hers, mesmerised her."Are you a fragile Farna?"

That caused her brows to draw. " Do you ponder I look like those simpering female fools? The angels who deem themselves too fragile to fight?"

Both Cerwas and Farthas had maiden and master angels who were born only to breed, the females, called Farnas and the males, Furnes. But sometimes the warriors bore offsprings too, to carry on their family line.

"Then who are you?"

He took a step closer and her back collided with a tree.

"Who are you?"She in turn asked with a defiant tilt of her chin. He traced the line of her soft jaw with one finger and again her wings fluttered open, this time fanning behind her. Enamored by their brilliance, he traced his knuckles over the satin feathers.

"Don't." she whispered as she looked into his eyes.

"Why?" Magnetised, he leaned lower.

"I don't let strangers touch my wings."

"Then tell me who you are so we can remedy this predicament."

"You first." she said with an endearing primness to her voice.

"Very well. I am Niklaus."

"And? Are you a warrior?"

He debated telling her about his Royal status, she had fled from him once, if he revealed he was the ruthless Prince she would flee again.

"Yes. A warrior."

"And who do you serve?" his eyes weaving a spell on her yet again.

"Liorin and Viviera, just like all. So will you at last say who you are?"

"I am Caroline. A warrior for Liorin and Viviera." her shield protected her but her mother had inundated time and again she was to tell no body about who she was.

"Caroline." he made her name sound like a chant to the Mystics, nature's energy beings who guarded and nourished and only took to a body when utter chaos reigned.

His wings fluttered open and cocooned them, presenting a shade against the sunlight that fell on them, through the leaves.

"Shall we go elsewhere. I abhor sunlight." he whispered.

"And if I like it?"

"Then we shall stay like this. You under my wings, with your bewitching golden tresses between my fingers and my lips pleasuring yours" her closeness like a drug intoxicating his soul.

"How typical?" she ushered out of his wings.


"A master who only seeks pleasure and I imagined you to be different." her frock whirled around her legs. She moved away but he grabbed her black robe, it came off leaving her ivory arms bare.

"You imagined I was different? How so?"

"I hoped a warrior thought more of a maiden's bravery and intelligence rather than her body." she snatched her robe back.

"I have no doubt as to your bravery and intelligence. But tis more than your lovely form that enthralls me. It's your laugh and your light."

She shivered again, his voice a soft touch for her senses, "I doubt you are a warrior. You sound like Furne."

His ego bristled against an insult, and her smile translated how she relished that he detested the comparison to a breeder. His frown looked charming.

"Don't look hurt. I jest. However we can settle this with a fight."

She picked up a stick from the ground and going to nearby tree broke off a slim shoot.

She threw one shoot at him and he caught it with an expert twist of his wrist.

"You want me to fight you?"

"Are you terrified?"

He shook his head, a smile adorned his face and two arresting dimples peaked out.

She threw away her robe on one side. They began circling each other. He lunged and she ducked. Then she attacked like she would with a sword and he blocked it. She grunted when she landed another blow and it grazed his arm. She lifted her brows twice, a playful gesture, he wanted to kiss it.

He smiled and attacked and it hit her abdomen. Both engaged in a game of hits and misses back and forth, when she hit him on his head like a patron. He winced and she laughed, a siren's song for his ears. He maneuvered himself such that she hit again and they fell, with her sweet form atop his. She laughed again and he tucked her hair behind her ears.

"I win." still laughing she lay in his arms.

Content to stay such forever he mumbled, "I let you win."

She knew he had altered his stance the last minute, so they would both fall.


"Because I spoke truth when I said it's your laugh and your light."

Her smile forgotten, his eyes weaving their spell again. He kissed her forehead and she closed her eyes savoring the sensation of his lips. She rested her head on his chest, his heartbeat solid, beneath her ears. His wings cocooning her, his arms closing around her.

"Why?" she whispered and he knew she demanded to understand this unique newfound yet poignant bond between them.

"I know not, love. But I know I want to see you again."

She left the haven of his arms and sighed, "I can not, Niklaus."

She said her name and he felt an unfamiliar serenity, however her reply angered him.


"I carry many burdens."

"Look at me." he pleaded. She saw anguish and desire coloring his eyes.

"I heave burdens too but I would shuck them all to know this moment again." he cradled her in his arms. She caressed his face.

"Fly to me here on the morrow. I'll wait for you, love." He besieged and kissed her closed eyelids this time and flew away, soaring on the background of setting sun.


She sat in his arms as their feet dangled in the stream. He kissed her head.

"My Caroline."

She twitched her nose, "Who said so?"

"You when each of the eight nights you said you won't come and yet you fly into my arms."

She let out a small laugh. "I take pity on your poor warrior soul."

"That so?" he kissed her ear and a delicious sizzle ran through her.

His arms around her, he felt an ease like never before. Her scent teased his desire but he knew, they were both too young to live in union, a ceremony that bound two Archangels for eternity.


"Yes." she looked up.

"I go to war on the next sunrise." his heart craved her proximity, bled at the mere thought of departing from her.

"Why now?"

"My brother's taken ill. My father wishes me to lead the new attack. It's my first mission as a leader. Before that I was training and fought behind my brother. I want your ribbon as my favor."

She glanced down, the only ribbon she was wearing, tied her robe. She untied it and her robe fell. His eyes landed on the swell of her breasts and her generous curves encased in a white silk gown.

Her breath hitched as he leaned in. "You are ravishing my love. You stir my desires like no other but we can not unite just yet."

"I know." she muttered when he kissed her cheek, his thumb running over her beauty bones.

She cinched the ribbon on his arm over his alluring markings, the ink of a warrior.

"When shall we meet again? How shall we meet again?" her voice wavered.

"The next blue moon. I know it comes every six months. I would come sooner if I could."

"And if I can not make it on blue moon?"

"I'll find my way to your home. Nothing can keep us apart." the conviction with which he professed it made her hope even when she wanted to shed tears at this separation from her love.

He kissed her forehead, her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, as if remembering every feature of her face with his kisses. She melted in his arms and he edged her closer. He craved to imprint his essence on her and her softness in his mind.

He stood tall and proud, as he readied to bid farewell to his love. He took out a necklace chain with a daisy pendant. He held it out when she nodded he fastened it around her slender neck. She kissed his cheek. Holding her in his arms, he flew high and then halted in the skies. Both lingered in each other's arms, floating before pulling away.

Both turned and flew away with one last longing look at each other. Too distraught to fathom that they flew in opposite directions, him to the Farthas and her to the Cerwas.