Author Note: I give you the final chapter. It's unedited, sorry.


Disclaimer: All characters (c) Sheepie. You maybe not use them with out my permission.

Warning(s): Adult Situations, Strong Sexual Content, Graphic Violence, Strong Language

Kingdom Come

Chapter 22

I woke, sticky from the heat. The sky from my window was sparkling clear, only a few clouds drifting carelessly by. The gossamer white curtains billowed in the warm breeze that rolled into my room. I pushed the silk blankets down my lap and pushed my self up, my body groaning in stiffness.

For an entire day Deangelo had flown across countries, crossing the Red Sea and over Egypt to the farthest south western corner of the country, where the desert seemed to expand into eternity. As soon as we arrived at the footsteps of Aaru, Deangelo had collapsed from exhaustion. Retaining some of my strength from Deangelo carrying me, I had instantly flown off the handle and called for help. Everything after that was a blur. Imperial guards rushed out, giant, bulking men of Egyptian and African descent, looming wings dipped in gold behind them. They were aggressive and men at first, shouting questions I didn't understand, until finally someone stepped up and ushered us in.

That was two days ago. Deangelo had been carried off, out of my sight. No matter how hard I had argued, or pleaded, they would not let me go to see them. They kept me locked up in this room, telling me to rest. They must have known I was a babe when it came to my wings, because they didn't bother to barricade the windows.

For what I could gather, all the castles of the four kingdoms (well three now, considering Olympus' downfall) floated above the skies, beyond the sight of mortals. Aaru's cloaking device was to carefully remain within the empty confines of the Sahara. Whether they had a barrier of clouds they used for traveling over populated cities, I wasn't sure. We had remained suspended over an empty desert so far, only rolling golden dunes at our feet. No one would come out here, not unless they sought their death.

Someone knocked at the door, and I was half tempted to tell them to fuck off. If they weren't going to take me to Deangelo, then I wanted nothing to do with them. So far, I didn't understand why Deangelo wanted to come here. They had been of little help. For all I knew, Deangelo was dead.

My throat constricted at that thought. I refused to believe it.

I pulled my knees to my chest, hugging them. I still hadn't reflected on how I felt about dying. I don't know how long I had been gone. It had felt like eternity, though I know it had been short. But none of that changed the fact that I had, indeed, been dead. For however many seconds, or minutes, or even hours, my heart had not beat.

Who ever was at the door continued to knock, persistent. I grit my teeth and shouted, "what?"

The door, which was made of warm woods, opened. A tiny Egyptian girl, with silky black hair and a slim, heart-shaped face peeked in. Her wide black eyes blinked at me curiously, and she had a look on her face that said she rather be somewhere else. Well, I rather she be somewhere else as well.

She looked like she had just stepped out of a history book, draped in white cloth. Everything about her was classic Egyptian. She bowed low, her wings pulled tight to her back. They were a simple, pure white. Nothing spectacular about them like Deangelo's, or even the guards I had seen.

"The King wishes to speak with you," she said, voice surprisingly not trembling.

I opened my mouth, prepared to tell her to tell him to fuck off, but quickly closed it. Deangelo would be telling me to stop being a brat right now. I let my legs slide down the bed again and said, "alright."

Her head jerked up in surprise, as if she had expected a fight. I rolled my eyes and said, "I'll be out in a second."

"O-of course," she quickly backed out, closing the door.

I ran a hand through my damp hair, wondering if I had time to take a shower. Then I decided I didn't care if I had time, I felt gross and was going to take one. Period.

I slid out of my bed, stretching my body. My wounds had been healed completely. A man, long and slender, had swept into the room, his black hair streaked with white. I could only vaguely remember him running his hands over me, bathing me in a warmth that I had felt in those moments of death. The guards had had to hold me down, I had been lashing out so violently, screaming for them to bring Deangelo back. Then, I passed out, and when I woke, I was locked in my room.

"Fuckers," I grumbled, stepping into the adjoining bathroom. It was pristine, the floors and walls marble, with gilded edging and a wide, Jacuzzi tub. Next to the tub was a walk in shower with one of the rain showerheads. I guess I couldn't complain about my holding cell, they were some pretty swanky digs.

I washed up and changed into a white linen wrap - it was the only thing they provided me. It dropped to just above my knees and hung slightly low on my hips. I wasn't too comfortable going shirtless, but the only one I had, had been destroyed. I ruffled my hair and walked out of my room, looking at the servant girl.

She looked ready to have kittens. Her hands were twisting together and her face was pale. Did I take too long in the shower? Whoops…

"T-this way," she squeaked out, scurrying ahead of me.

I sighed and padded behind her, quietly observing the hall as we passed. The castle was lavished in ivory and gold. Pillars of marble lined the hallways, open to the desert below. A warm breeze ran through out the entire kingdom and the song of birds could be heard in the distance. I had a newfound ache to be out in the sky and I didn't know how to sooth it.

I closer we approached the throne room, the more guards lined the halls. They were burly, their skin complexion ranging from a deep purplish black to a pale mocha. The guns they held seemed out of place next to the wraps around their tight waists. Each one had large, lumbering white wings dusted in gold. None of them made eye contact with me.

The girl stepped in front of a large set of gold double doors and cautiously opened them, her wings slightly curving around her body as if to shroud her. She stepped forward and instantly dropped to her knees, saying "Sire, the visitor as you requested."

I walked inside, eyeing her strangely. Did she seriously just bow? I wasn't doing that.

I looked up at the king sitting on a throne of gold and velvet and then swept my eyes around the room. Deangelo was standing next to two guards, dressed in a wrap himself with his wings leisurely resting behind him. My heart jumped into my throat and I flung my self at him, crying, "DEANGELO!"

His arms locked around me and he pulled me close, hugging my body against his. As soon as he had me in an embrace though, one of the guards wrenched me off him and pulled me back. I instantly began to kick and twist around, trying to dislodge them. "Let me go you fucking donkey ass!"

"Oliver!" Deangelo yelled, "it's alright! Calm down!"

I stilled, panting heavily and looking up at him, hair falling in my eyes. The second guard was holding his arm, but he wasn't fighting him. My heart pounded in my ear. I slowly straightened up and jerked my arm from the guard's grip, resisting the urge to elbow him in the gut. "What's going on?" I asked, hazarding a glance in the king's direction. The servant girl looked absolutely horrified.

The king had to be in his late fifties with a reddish brown complexion and short cropped black hair that was frosted gray. His obsidian eyes stared at me with a look of superior amusement and disbelief. The wrinkles in his face weren't heavy, but on their way to being deep. He waved off the guard and said in English, accent Egyptian accent thick, "I would like to ask the same thing. We bring you into our kingdom, nurse you back to health, and you attack my guard?"

"He attacked me!" I snapped in defense.

"Oliver!" Deangelo warned.

I bristled like a cat, shoulders hunching in defiance. I bit my tongue though. I would behave, if only for Dee.

"Your Majesty," Deangelo began, gently walking forward when the guard let go. His wings held high, his back straight and his shoulders squared. For a moment, he looked like a king. Then he dropped to one knee and said firmly, "I thank you for not only healing me, but for looking after Oliver."

"Rise," the king said, lifting his hand, which was decorated with dozens of rings, "what is your name?"

Deangelo lifted his head and climbed back to both feet, saying without hesitation, "I am Lord Deangelo Rosetta, and my companion is my husband, and long lost ruler of Atlantis, King Gabriel Rosetta-Nephilim."

There was a collective pause and straightened my wrap, trying to ignore the feeling of everyone staring at me with their judging eyes. Deangelo moved over to me, reaching down and wrapping his hand around mine. Before anyone could argue him on my identity, he kept saying, "I've come to you in hopes of asylum."

"The Nephilim line was destroyed years ago," the king said, his eyes never leaving mine, "When King Saul took over - your father."

There was a bitterness to his words. He ground out King Saul's name as if it were arsenic. The blood between the two kings was spoiled and it gave me little hope in finding sanctuary within Aaru's resplendent walls.

"Please King Amenophis, we can't return to the states. My father is hunting us. He won't stop until we're dead."

"This boy, he can't be Ezekiel's son. How did he survive?"

"I am too!" I snapped, letting go of Deangelo's hand and stepping forward, "damn it, will you listen?"

"Oliver!" Deangelo hissed.

"He snuck me out before his sick father could kill me," I shouted, gesturing back towards Deangelo, "I've been staying with my adoptive parents all this time. Don't you dare tell me I'm not the rightful king. I did not just go through hell and back to have some pompous ass tell me who I am."

Without thinking I triggered my wings, releasing them in a brilliant light that blinded my vision for a second. I gasped at the rush that ran over me, my body almost put off balance by the extra weight. I arched my wings high, turning my head to get a good look at them. My feathers caught the light that streamed in through the tall windows, and like a diamond, they reflected a spectrum of colors. There were even colors I had no name for, ones I had never known existed. They shimmered, dusted with gold and silver. I was afraid to touch them, afraid that they were really made of crystal and if I moved them wrong, they'd shatter.

I sucked in a sharp breath and narrowed my eyes at King Amenophis, daring him to argue with me.

His eyes were wide, mesmerized, and his mouth hung slightly open. He quickly composed himself though and gestured for the thin man on his right to approach. They whispered to one another for a few minutes and I looked back at Deangelo, trying to gage if he was pissed at me for getting lippy with our possible help. He just shook his head, a befuddled smirk on his face.

"There is only one person I know who had wings as beautiful as yours," King Amenophis said, drawing my attention back to him. He nodded his head and said, "it has been a long time since these old eyes have stared upon them…"

Cautiously I took a step forward, lowering my wings to a less intimidating height. King Amenophis smiled up at me, his eyes wrinkling as they warmed up. "I thought I would never see them again. Maybe now, peace can return amongst the kingdoms… King Gabriel."

I smiled, my shoulders slumping with relief. I didn't have much else to use to try and sway him. He looked between me and Deangelo and said, "I will let you stay here for as long as you need. You our royal guests in this castle, and will from this moment on be treated as such."

"Thank you," I said gently.

He leaned forward, saying for just me to hear, "I guess I'm not such a pompous ass after all, hmm?"

My cheeks instantly began to burn. Deangelo saddled up beside me, once more taking my hand. "Thank you."

"An end to King Saul's reign of terror is long overdo, and I am more than willing to help anyone that will step up." King Amenophis said.

I looked up at Deangelo, asking softly, "are we… going after your father?"

Deangelo looked at down at me, his eyes clouded. It was only a few days ago that he had lost his sister. Even if she had brought on her own death, it was still his sister. Now he was being asked to face his father. The thought of rising up against my own - either of them - was unfathomable.

"He needs to be put to a stop," Deangelo said, voice stony.


"But that won't be for awhile. Until you're ready, we won't do anything." He smirked, leaning forward to kiss my temple, saying tauntingly, "you can't even stand up straight with your wings, let alone fly."

I jerked away from him, hefting my wings up, "I can too!"

Deangelo chuckled and turned to King Amenophis, ignoring my glower. Fucker. He bowed at the waist and said, "thank you for your kindness, we our in your debt."

"Think nothing of it," he said, waving for Deangelo to rise again, "now, you may go. Rest. Enjoy yourselves. We will discuss deeper matters later."

I took Deangelo's hand and walked off, trying to keep my wings from trailing along the floor. It was harder than what you would expect.


I rose up from the bed, stretching my limbs lazily like a cat baking in the sun. Deangelo was beside me, a sheet slung low on his waist, barely covering his flaccid cock. I ran a hand up his chest, not trying to entice anything, just wanting to feel him beneath me. I wanted to know he was real, because I was still having trouble believing this wasn't a dream. He reached up, eyes still closed, and took my hand. "Good morning," he groggily said, drawing my hand up and pressing a kiss to my slim fingers.

We had spent the previous day scouting the castle out. King Amenophis had a taste for the archaic, blending modern military strategies with ancient culture. I felt like I was walking in a golden world, it was above me and below me, and all around me, a rich embellishment of Midas' treasure.

After spending the day hunting out secret passageways and gardens, we stumbled into bed, making up for the past two days. Now, fully sated, I just wanted to curl in Deangelo's arms and spend the day in bed.

He tugged me down into him, running his fingers up my bare arm. "What do you say about flying today?" He asked after a long pause.

I paused, looking up at him. His eyes were trained on me, waiting for an answer. A rock lodged its self precariously in my throat and it took a moment for me to get my tongue to work properly, "do you think I'm ready?"

"You got to try some time," he said, pushing him self up to my aggravation. I made a discontented sound and stubbornly tried to hold him down. He easily pushed me off and climbed off the bed.

My eyes reluctantly left the sight of his ass and traveled over to the balcony, the gossamer curtains blowing gently in the breeze. The sky looked welcoming; wide and boundless, it stretched over a hot red desert, begging to embrace me in its cool depths. I never felt a longing for it like I did now. I could feel it running through me, a second heartbeat in sync with my own.

Hesitantly, still unsure, I said, "okay…"

He put on a white linen wrap, looking over his shoulder at me, "I won't let you fall."

I flushed and climbed off the bed, finding my own wrap. I didn't like them, but I was growing use to them. They were a hell of a lot cooler to wear then jeans and a shirt. It had to be in the hundreds. You could feel the humidity in the air.

Blinding white light filled my bedroom as Deangelo extended his wings. He turned to me, catching the light of the early morning behind him, and extended his hand out to me. "Come on, it'll be a great way to start the day."

I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, releasing my wings in my own flash of colorful light. Feathers tickled down my arms as the appendages unfurled and stretched out. I took his hand and slowly stepped out onto the balcony.

"Just concentrate. It's like walking," Deangelo said.

Walking. Just like walking.

Slowly I began to move my wings. It started off as a twitch; small jerks that barely rustled the sand at our feet. I built it up to a heavy beat, beginning to flap my wings until my feet dusted off the ground. I stopped after a few seconds, my muscles protesting at the foreign strain.

"That's good, keep going," Deangelo encouraged, his hands circling my waist. He hoisted me up, lifting me high into the sky as I worked on my own wings.

We floated above the sand for a few seconds, and in an all too familiar scenario, Deangelo let me go with out warning. I began to plunge towards the rolling dunes, letting out a terrified screech. Damn him! I fucking hate Deangelo Rossi!

I flapped my wings like crazy, catching my self and shooting up into the air, barreling forward at Deangelo until I smacked into him. The fucker was laughing!

We tumbled through the air, briefly beginning to fall, until Deangelo untangled our limbs and grabbed my hand, beginning to cut across the horizon. I followed behind him, soaring over the Sahara. It was more exhilarating than I could imagine. It was different then being in Deangelo's arms and flying across the sky. I was doing this. I was soaring over the worlds largest desert. I was kissing the sky and feeling clouds move past me like milk.

Deangelo let go of my hand, flying ahead. We raced towards the sun, Deangelo ahead of me by several feet. He brought us higher, as if we were flying straight to Heaven.

I couldn't help but laugh. All the tension, all the anger and pain that had boiled in me like a festering wound, released as I found freedom. I couldn't say that everything had been worth it. The lives that had been taken and could never be replaced would never been a price I'd want to pay. If I could have changed to the course of things, changed a small detail so that Janet would still be laughing or Ms. Clearwater would still be able to teach, I would.

But I couldn't. I couldn't change what happened. I could only try and prevent it from happening again.

Deangelo stopped above me and held his hand out again. I met up with him, letting our fingers tangle, taking both of his hands in mine as our legs wrapped together. We held ourselves up by our wings only, wrapped in one another as if trying to mold our bodies into one. I let me forehead knock against his, feeling his lips brush mine.

The sun was warm on my back and the air was cool against my fingertips. Deangelo's hair tickled my shoulders as it played in the wind.

"I love you Deangelo," I whispered, lips moving against his.

I knew in that moment, while feeling like a baby bird taking flight, that I would stop at nothing to protect this world. The future was obscure, shrouded by a wavering blanket of shadows. I didn't know what it would be like to face Deangelo's father, but I had to face him. I wouldn't run. I wouldn't turn tail and walk away. I wouldn't cost anymore lives. It was time to take the skies back.

His lips quirked into a tiny smile and he said as he took flight, "come on. Lets soar."

The End

Thank you again for everyone who reviewed! I hope you enjoyed this story. Hopefully this didn't end to abruptly. The story was originally going to be much longer, going into Oliver fighting King Saul, but then I decided it didn't seem real. Oliver doesn't understand his powers, nor is he the Warsong yet, nor can he really fly. So this story will then be branched off into a serious. That means that YES there will be a sequel. Most likely three books. But I don't know when the next one will be out. I haven't decided yet where to take this story, now that I stopped it here. I'm actually going to first look back over this story and revise it a bit. Nonetheless, there will be a followup eventually!