My Uncertain Love

Daniel can still remember the day he first met the Dark Order.

He had been fourteen years old at the time, so it was about a decade before even the Shadowhunters came to be. Daniel had not known what kind of danger they would bring back then, but he understood just what kind of monsters they were now.

The fallen angels responsible for sending his twin sister to her death. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

And now, he was almost certain they have returned, the thought making his blood run cold.

SEVERAL HUNDREDS OF YEARS AGO....

*****Daniel's POV*****

The sky was a soft pink that day, and laughter filled the air. He and his little brother Harry had been sent to the Marketplace earlier that day to pick up some bread, cheese and chicken for tonight's dinner. For the sake of preventing Harry from gnawing on bread (the staple food of the eight year old at that time) Daniel was carrying that and the cheese. The pungent smell of the yellow hunk made his nose itch, so he had to force back a sneeze.

Meanwhile, Harry was busy doing chicken impersonations with the very much raw chicken he carried. Quite horrible ones too if he must say, the blonde's high pitched voice as he attempted to give the chicken a voice was like chalk screeching down a chalkboard. The urge to slap the other boy was very evident, but Daniel reminds himself that as they were flying so that could likely knock the youngest out of orbit. Besides, it wasn't likely he'd be able to hit him anyways. Especially not without dropping the delicacies he was holding.

Mother may not be the most powerful between herself and Father, but that in no way meant that he wanted to invoke her wrath. And considering how easily Harry would start crying, he would not be surprised if that led to him getting in trouble.

That did not mean however that he could not tell Harry to stop, even it was highly unlikely that it would work.

"Har, can you please cut it out." He says with a small moan.

His wings flapped agitatedly behind him, a red hue popping up amidst the deep black-blue abyss of them. Out of all the four siblings, Daniel had been the only one to receive Da's power of sensing the lines connecting people and controlling emotions that they brought. Or as Father liked to put it: sensing the ties that bind. He did not have much control of this ability yet, but he was hard at work to learn.

And as he does have this power, it was no surprise that a flicker of his emotions could be spotted in his wings. The red signals the irritation/anger that he feels now. He wills the hue to disappear, not wanting to be angry. The darkness of his wings hid all the occasional bursts pretty well, but if he dwelled on a feeling too much, well, there would be no way to hide them then.

"Bawk bawk bawk BAWWWWWK!" Harry crows in his best chicken voice seemingly not hearing Daniel. So the eldest tries to grab his attention again. Thankfully, he is successful on the second attempt.

"Harry, can it!" He growls out.

Harry huffs. "Fine fine fiiiiiiiiiine. But I'm hilarious, right?"

Knowing that the God awful sound will only continue if he says otherwise, Daniel reluctantly agrees. "Yes. You are a lot of things." Such as annoying. He leaves that part unsaid.

The two boys land right in front of their home a few moments later. Dust swirls around them in a puffy orange cloud as their wings collapse against their backs. Harry waves the offending cloud away with his free hand, the other clutching at his designated basket of victuals that their Mother had them retrieve from the Market Place. Daniel hefts his basket over his shoulder with ease, being cautious to avoid the contents spilling out.

"I can't wait for dinner tonight! What do ya think Mom will make this time?" Harry chatters on like the ever inquisitive little boy that he is.

"If you'd paid attention this morning you would know." Daniel says with an incline of his head.

"Yea. But I was busy eating breakfast, and besides, we both know you're gonna tell me anyways so..." he trails off, giving Daniel an excited nudge in his rib cage.

The eldest resists the urge to groan. He had been out doing battle practice with his father the other day and had managed to bruise his right side when he had a harsh tumble down the hill. Daniel wishes he could say it had happened in an attempt to try out a brand new fighting move, but in reality it was only from tripping over a tree root.

Normally, his father would have stopped him from getting injured, but the archangel had known that learning from experience would be the only way his son could learn not to make the same mistakes. Daniel reluctantly agrees with this, knowing that he now will pay much more attention to detail in the future.

The two boys shuffle towards the door, careful not to drop their baskets. Daniel is just about to push open the door when he hears a voice. It made him freeze in place, right after he had knocked on the door with two resounding thumps of his fisted left hand. Beside him, Harry also froze in place, his wings quivering behind him.

"Veriziel look what we have here: aren't you two boys a little too small to be angels?" A man's voice asks.

"Hmm Hmm hmmm. Yes Arkanekiel I believe they are." The other stranger says with glee.

Daniel yanks Harry in front of the door before turning around. He flares his wings out protectively as soon as his little brother is safely out of view. Blue eyes narrow at the two figures standing before them now, their leering forms silhouetted by pitch black wings.

He cannot put his finger on why he finds these two strange men so disturbing. Perhaps it was their uneven gates, the way he could count each individual rib from underneath their cloak like garments that clung to their skin. Or maybe it was the crooked smiles they gave himself and Harry; smiles that were filled with what looked to be slightly yellowed teeth and puffy gums. Or it could even be the color of their eyes, the pitch blackness of them unnatural on any human, an endless abyss of nothingness that had no light in them. And he need not forget the even greater abyss of their inky wings, trimmings of a dull gray slipping out of them every so often reminiscent of a ticking clock.

No matter what it was that frightened Daniel, he found himself shuddering regardless. Judging by the quivering in the space behind him, Harry was doing the same as he buries his face against Daniel's back.

"We're not angels." He levels the men, no, the fallen angels with what he hopes is a stern glare. "We are nephilim."

He found in a small moment clarity as he said those words that he understood what these men exactly were. Father had told them in his stories about evil angels who had fell from Heaven long ago because they had committed wicked deeds. Their once beautiful physique and wings had become ugly in the process, a sign of the light they once held within their graces withering away into nothingness.

The one called Veriziel barks out a laugh, some flecks of spittle sticking to his lips. There is a manic look in this guy's abysmal eyes, a look of absolute darkness. Daniel feels terror gripping him in a vice, forcing him to meet that gaze head on.

Father did always say not to show fear to the enemy.

"How adorable that you speak to us in that tone little one. We are your elders." Arkanekiel snaps at him, dragging what looks to be lifeless fingers through the matted brown locks of his hair.

"You should treat us with respect." Veriziel agrees. Unlike his companion, this fallen angel is slightly better groomed. His ice white hair is about as albino as it can get, as is the pasty skin he has.

Daniel knows he shouldn't, but he still finds himself opening his mouth to utter a snarky retort. Luckily, his action is halted as the door behind himself and Harry finally swings open. Veronica-their mother- takes in the scene with confusion, that quickly sharpens into a serious concern with the narrowing of her eyes.

Her hands reach out to grab her sons in a vice-like grip before tugging them behind her. Too surprised to know how to react, Daniel finds himself going along with the yanking gesture. He and Harry end up stumbling into the house. While the youngest flounders to the ground Daniel manages to keep upright. He refuses to lose sight of these two fallen angels for even a second. Who knew exactly what sort of dangerous things they could cause.

There was a reason Father told them to avoid the fallen at all costs.

Mother seems to have the same feelings he has. Her fierce green gaze bores into the fallen angels, and shockingly there is no visible fear rolling off of her, though Daniel can see it in the way that the lines connecting her to Daniel and Harry flare with tinges of protection and rage and overwhelming worry. She was afraid, just not for herself.

Daniel understood the feeling. He expresses it now in the careful grip he keeps on Harry's right wing. The bronze feathers there are soft to the touch. As Harry is only eight years old, several spots along his wings were still covered in fluffy down, and plumage that would likely molt away as he got older.

It made the little boy a rather adorable sight to look at, although the upkeep of such new wings was rather arduous and annoying. Harry ended up having to have the most grooming sessions per week out of all the winged members of their family. And as Harry is not well-versed in such practices, it was left to their parents to do the hard work of straightening lopsided feathers and teasing out the rift raff that Harry would get in his wings every time he decided barrel rolling down a hill was a good idea (which was a lot more often then one might think).

Veronica's voice is firm as she begins to talk to the fallen, her hand resting readily on the sword lying on the walk in table. Father had left plenty of his weapons lying around the house, claiming that you never could know when something dangerous could attack you in your own home. Daniel supposed that today his point had finally been proven.

"Hello there. I don't think we've been introduced. My name is Veronica Windimiere, and if I see you lay a hand on either of my sons you can be sure there'll be hell to pay." She snaps icily.

Veriziel raises his hands placatingly. Daniel notes once again how lifeless they seem, and with the sliding back of the dark robes the fallen angel wore he is also able to spot the scrawling black veins on his arms. The way they bulged and appeared swollen gave off the impression that they were most certainly infected. Though there is the question as to what per say the black veins were infected with.

"Now now Ms. Wi-"

"Mrs." She corrects with a growl.

"Mrs. Windimiere, " He corrects. "We are only here to see your husband. We don't....have to hurt you or your sons or..." he licks his lips hungrily, his eyes seeming to darken even more if that was even possible. "Your daughters, but we need to find Remiel. So tell us where he is and we should be on our way."

Daniel feels disgust worm it's way through him at the hungry look Arkanekiel also sends their way. The two were definitely the worst kind of fallen there was: only someone truly sick would thinking that assaulting young children was okay. Fear continues its sauntering down his spine, and he once again has to keep himself from shuddering in terror.

"And I say that you no. You both better get out of here. NOW!" She snaps.

"My my, someone is being difficult. I guess we'll just have to do things the hard way then." Arakenekiel smirks, his wings fluttering behind him despite the lifeless look of them.

Daniel can see the way his mother tenses up even further. The sword she gripped in the hand she held behind her back held a dull gleam in the shadow of the doorway. Her knuckles whiten from gripping the hilt for so long. It would seem that she might have to use the blade, and even though father had taught her how, Daniel didn't find their chances promising.

"I think not." A voice booms.

Daniel peers up from behind his mother to see his father swooping down. Remiel was dressed in casual wear, his blue eyes narrowed with an expression he could only describe as absolute rage. Veriziel and Arakenekiel also seem to recognize that anger, and Daniel feels a grim satisfaction at the way they cower away from his father.