Gabriël returned to the Villa. Talking to Uriël had made him realise something; Lucifer believed he and Michael were more than friends. They'd been in the safety of the Nephilim Sanctum when they kissed, so he couldn't possibly know about that. Something else must've made the Devil suspect something was going on between them. And that could've only happened if he stood close to Gabriël — or Michael.
The Archangel quickly changed into his own clothes — which had appeared in Michael's wardrobe — then lay down on the bed. He gripped the pillow and closed his eyes. Michael's scent was all around him. It helped Gabriël as he conjured up every good memory he had of the Lord Protector. Every time they had fought together, laughed together, talked together. He felt guilty when he thought of what had happened at Resia, but forced that feeling aside for his plan to work.
He then thought of the Devil, bringing his face before his mind's eye, clasping the amulet Lucifer had given him in his hand. It had been some time since his days in the cell in the Catacombs, but he sensed the familiar dark cloud in his head. Lucifer suddenly stood before him, a puzzled expression on his face. Time to see how good an actor the man really was.

"Gabriël, wha—?"

"Do you know where Michael is?"

Lucifer stared at him for a few seconds and then clicked his tongue with a scoff. 

"Did you really call me here just to —?"

"You know about us, don't you?"

Gabriël didn't waste a second to set his plan into motion. He had to be bold and dive right in.

"Us?" asked Lucifer. "I'm not sure I understand."

"I think you do," said Gabriël. "That whole thing in the Hell-Fire Club? You didn't only let me see Joan, but Michael as well."

Lucifer's jaw tightened, and his black eyes narrowed into slits.

"I... suspected. Since when?"

"I'm not sure, if I'm honest. Michael and I often found ourselves alone with each other, and after a while, one thing led to another."

Gabriël glanced up. The Devil kept a straight posture straight and stone-like expression, but he couldn't hide the jealousy in his eyes. Nor his fury. To him, this was the final straw. Michael's ultimate betrayal.

"I can't get our last moment together out of my head," Gabriël continued in a stricken voice, pretending not to see Lucifer's anguish. "We had an argument about Joan a few days before my encounter with Borgia. Michael wanted to punish her for her insubordination, but I spoke against it because I... I've always been fond of her. We'd been fighting so much of late, and Joan made me feel better. Loved. I stupidly acted on those feelings, and when you told me what Michael did to you and Margaret, I realised history was repeating itself. I should have done something then, but it was already too late. Even though it broke my heart to leave him, I had no choice. Joan had given me what Michael never could, and I couldn't allow him to take the life of another innocent baby. But then he came to me, and we talked, and... I've tried to do right by Joan, and I do sincerely love her, but I can't ignore the love I still feel for Michael as well. I need him."

The Devil's calm demeanour was completely gone. A dark, threatening aura radiated off Lucifer. His nails dug so deep into his shaking, balled fists, blood trickled between his fingers. 

"You don't actually expect me to believe any of that, do you?" he snarled. "I've been watching Michael for centuries! I've been watching all of you! Never have I seen you two together like that, not even in your own homes!"

Well, well, isn't that interesting? Got you now, Lucifer.

"There is a place in the Vale that is well hidden," Gabriël said. "A cavern underneath a waterfall. It's not on any map, and even Michael's gaze doesn't reach. I told him, and we both agreed to meet only there so nobody would ever find out about us."

"No! No, it's not true!" In a few strides, Lucifer crossed the distance between himself and Gabriël, and took the Archangel by the throat. "You're lying!"

"You said you watched us, so you must have noticed. Why else would you say you suspected? You were Michael's lover, Lucifer. You know what he does to hide his feelings for the rest. But he can never hide the glances he steals in a crowd. Or when he looks at you from upon his balcony. And when he's with you, you can only think about him. How his lips taste when you kiss, his fingers entangling your hair, and —"

"ENOUGH!"

Lucifer squeezed Gabriël's throat shut. He struggled against the iron grasp. Maybe this hadn't been the best idea, after all. He had never seen Lucifer like this enraged, this... unhinged.

"I don't know what your game is, Gabriël, but you can't fool me! I'll find out the truth from Michael himself if I have to!"

The mist in Gabriël's mind cleared, and he was back in Michael's room, gasping for breath. Sweat dripped from his brow, and a wave of nausea hit him. He rolled off the bed and stumbled to the alabaster basin to splash cold water on his face. As he then leaned his forehead onto his arm, he smiled to himself.
The plan had worked. He'd successfully fooled Lucifer into believing he was Michael's lover, and in his furor, Lucifer had revealed he not only had Michael but could also spy into the Vale. Gabriël now understood how Lucifer had planned everything so meticulously. High time to return the favour.
He pushed back and looked into the mirror. Despite the smirk still being on his face, anxiety crept up as well. It all depended on Michael now. He hoped the Lord Protector was ready.

***

Wait. That's all Michael could do. Just wait. He didn't like waiting. It made him restless. And when he was restless, he started thinking and worrying. His fate rested completely in the hands of an unborn child and a woman who undoubtedly hated him beyond measure. 
Michael recalled the person Joan of Arc had been in life. He had found her growing faith in the Lord and His angels extraordinary. So much so that it had even inspired and strengthened his own faith and duty. He had understood Joan's destiny was to stand at his side to lead the charge in the Final Battle. She would have been his second in command. How could it have gone so wrong then? 

"Michael?"

Michael spun around upon hearing a familiar female voice behind him. He recoiled. Joan was looking straight at him, confused. 

"Joan? Is it... you?"

She reached up with her hand and touched his cheek as if to affirm he wasn't an illusion or spectre. They both gasped at the brief brush of her fingers.

"Joan... She did it!" In his joy, Michael lifted her up in a tight embrace.

"Michael, what the hell?" Joan struggled, bewildered at his action. "Put me down right now!"

"Oh, forgive me." Michael quickly put her back on her feet but kept his hands on her arms, afraid she would vanish if he let go. "I just... I cannot believe it worked. You are really here. You found me."

"Found you? What are you talking about? What's going on?"

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"I was talking with Leonora and got tired, so I went to bed. I dreamt I was back in the Vale with everyone, and then this little girl appeared. She took my hand, and the next thing I knew, I was here. Am... Am I still dreaming?"

"In a way, yes. Joan, the little girl is a friend. She brought you here to save me."

"Save you?"

"Yes, I am where you are. I am trapped in the Dream Realm."

The Fallen Angel looked at him like he was crazy. Like she was crazy.

"Okay, I think I need to wake up now." She pinched her arm furiously, wincing every time she pulled her flesh together with her nails.

"Joan, please listen to me," Michael pleaded, taking her hands in his. "Lucifer works together with Morpheus. He is my keeper, just like he is yours. Do you remember the room with the crystal case? When you heard me call out to you? The bell in that case lifts the veil into this void. My body lies hidden in the Dream Chamber, so Morpheus can keep my mind trapped here. It is why you only see me now. Because you are also dreaming."

Joan raised a skeptical brow. Her eyes flashed left and right to take in their surroundings. Under normal circumstances, Michael would say she was right to be this wary, but he desperately needed her to believe him.

"How do I know this is real?" she demanded. "How do I know you are truly Michael and not a figment produced by Morpheus?"

"It is me, I swear it!"

"Then tell me something only the real Michael knows."

Hope at rescue dwindled at those words. What could he possibly say that would convince Joan? There was absolutely nothing between them. Not once in the past six centuries had they ever been alone together, or shared something that had only remained between the two of them. They had no secrets, nothing that he could—oh, wait!

"On the day of your thirteenth birthday, you were walking in the fields near Domrèmy and came upon a sword."

Michael's heart jumped when he saw Joan stiffen. Yes, this was it. Nobody could know about their first meeting except the real Joan and the real Michael. Not even Gabriël. Not even Lucifer. 

"You were hesitant to pick it up at first," he continued, "but when you did, you felt something surge within you. A force. A fire. It overtook your senses so much that you lost consciousness. When you came to, the sword was gone, but you still felt the weight of it. Not in your hands, but deep inside you. You gazed up into the sun and whispered a name — my name. I appeared to you then, fully prepared to have to calm you down. But you instantly fell into my arms, promising your love and loyalty to God and His angels. No one but you has ever surrendered themselves so willingly and so passionately. Your devotion was unlike anything I witnessed in a human, and you held onto it right until..."

Michael fell silent. Finally, he understood. What Gabriël had been trying to tell him the moment they received the sudden order to fall silent on the eve of the battle at Compiègne. What he should have questioned himself all along — why would God sentence his fiercest follower to such a premature death? The way he and the others had abandoned Joan, the way she had suffered and died, deprived of comfort and support... He never should have allowed that. He should have questioned God, as Gabriël had. But he hadn't. And for that — and so much more — Joan had every right to abhor him.  
Michael's breathing became heavier. He sank to the floor, grasping Joan's body for support. Tears stung his eyes. Why? Why had he been so blind to her plight? How could he have done all this to her? And... to Gabriël? His fault. It was all his fault.

"I'm sorry." His voice broke, and he clutched her. "Joan, I'm so, so sorry. You were hurting for so long, and I... I never saw it. I-I should've... And now I've hurt Gabriël as well. He was the one person I trusted, the only one I yet held dear after... I know I can never take back what's been done, Joan, nor can I ever ask or hope for you to forgive me. But I will do everything in my power so you and Gabriël can be together again and for your child to live in peace. I swear it."

His words resonated through the void, carrying the gravity of his vow. When they died, Joan pushed Michael away by his shoulders. He gazed up at her, and a shiver ran down his spine when he caught her icy expression.

"I hate you with every fibre of my being, Michael," she spoke harshly. "For six hundred years, I've hated you more every day. You have done me more harm than good and don't deserve any clemency. Nor Gabriël's. I should leave you here to rot for everything you've put us through. But... that will do no one any good. We need you. I need you, whether I like it or not. So if you want my forgiveness, you'll damn well have to earn it."

"You have my word, Joan. I will not allow anything or anyone to harm you." Michael rose and held her hand against his chest. "Ego voto, quod ero fidelis vobis. Ego filiam tuam et te defendat ab nocere. Si autem dereliquerint in opus noli me morieris in gladio fratrem meum. Hoc est Sacramentum."

Joan's hard expression gradually changed to confusion. She tilted her head.

"Fi... Filiam tuam?"

Michael nodded and smiled. "You carry a daughter, Joan. She led you to me."

"No, that... that's not..." Joan shook her head in disbelief.

"I could not believe it either at first. And yet it is true. I sensed her presence some time ago, and she has since appeared to me. She is extraordinary, Joan. Her powers are like none I have seen in any Archangel before. And she is... beautiful."

The Fallen Angel's eyes filled with tears. Michael hesitated a moment, but then pulled Joan close to him. Their love for Gabriël was their common ground. He had to do it — for him.

"She is so much like you," he whispered. "Except her eyes. She has his eyes."

"Of course she has." Joan laughed in between sobs.

"I can tell you more of her if you like, but there is something else you need to know." Michael nudged her back. "Morpheus has accelerated time in the Dream Realm. The only reason I can think of is to —"

"Speed up my pregnancy," finished Joan. "Damn him. All right, don't worry. I believe I have some friends here who can help. We'll free you and make sure you get back to the Vale. Even if I have to put a dagger to Morpheus's throat and make him."

Michael couldn't help but smile at her resolve. He remembered all the times he had guided her in battle, the times they had trained together in the Vale, and the times she had even bested him in combat... Her strength and perseverance were a force to be reckoned with. If only he had appreciated that more about her. 
All of a sudden, a chill fell around them. The hairs on the nape of Michael's neck stood straight. He turned around, shielding Joan from whatever lurked in the emptiness. This feeling... It could only be one thing. 

"Hurry!" Joan's daughter suddenly appeared at their side and snatched her mother's arm. "He's coming! The bad man is coming!"

"Lucifer... Joan, he cannot find you here. You must leave."

"I can't just leave you to the Devil, Michael." Joan put a hand on Michael's shoulder.

"If Lucifer wanted me dead, I'd be dead. I will be fine. Go, now!"

The little girl carried her mother away through the darkness before she had the chance to object.

"I'll find you and bring you back, Michael!" yelled Joan. "I'll find you!"

With newfound hope and Joan's promise fortifying him, the Lord Protector prepared himself for what was to come. Whatever happened, he would not be brought down so easily. He would fight on to his dying breath.