Being an immortal, Cassiel had lived through empires rising and falling. Through rulers who thought themselves gods. Through centuries of men believing their laws held power over things far greater than them.
What was the threat of a mortal king's decree to someone who had seen a hundred thrones crumble and lived to tell there tale, nothing.
But Cassiel's fingers, still curled in Angelus's collar, loosened. Not because he feared the kingdom's punishment but because Angelus did.
And that, more than any blade or decree, was what made Cassiel pause. His eyes flickered with something measured, and calculating.
Then, acceptance, Angelus saw it in the way Cassiel's smirk shifted, becoming something less taunting, more knowing.
Cassiel sighed softly, as if reluctantly indulging a lover's fragile heart. Then, without breaking eye contact, he released Angelus's collar, his fingers tracing lightly down his chest before falling away.
