#radaranarael

It had been five centuries now since Metatron had last spoken to his son. In that time, he'd watched Radaranarael rise through the heavenly ranks, till he reached seraph. His son was as glorious as any of the archangels, if not more so.  Metatron's entire being ached with how proud he was of Radaranarael, with how much love he had for his little cake cookie. But he ached with sorrow as well. Radaranarael had missed much.  He had missed Esiel's wedding, and some years later, the birth of his twin niece and nephew, two beautiful little angels with their mother's appearance and their father's eyes. He'd missed seeing his brother be named the new Conductor of the heavenly orchestra, as well. He'd missed his uncle Aziraphale's wedding, a small affair wherein the two had simply made a long-standing arrangement a little more solid and meaningful. Little had changed, except that now there were two more hands in the universe that were graced with thin gold bands. And he had missed his own parents 250th anniversary, commemorating a marriage that had never been formalized but had existed nonetheless. It had been at the celebration that Beelzebub had finally said the Word that Metatron had longed to hear, a Word he now used freely towards the angel.  It had been a difficult five centuries. But never once had Metatron stopped hoping he'd see Radaranarael flying up to the cloud he'd shown his father as a small fledgling.  He had always believed in the prodigal son story, after all. 

"Radaranarael." The blonde cherub stopped, and turned around to face the angel behind him. "Metatron," he answered, his voice cold and impassive. The older angel was giving him a look of mixed emotion. His expression was one of hurt, of love, of not understanding, and almost of disappointment. But it would never really be disappointment, and even if it were, it would never be because of anything Radaranarael did. "Congratulations," Metatron finally said, nodding at the second pair of wings Radaranarael had recently been granted. The cherub nodded. "Thank you." Silence passed between them for what seemed like an eternity. "Well, I must be getting-" "Come see us sometime, why don't you?" Metatron said suddenly, cutting his son off without meaning to. Radaranarael raised an eyebrow. "You haven't visited in years, Rada," Metatron said, hurt showing in his voice. "Your father and I miss you. Esiel misses you." "I'd have thought he was too busy to miss me." "He talks about you every night, Rada. He wants you to be at his wedding. As his Best." "I have other things to do." "You can't take a day off?" "No." Silence passed between them again, and when Metatron spoke, it was laden with pain and sorrow. "What happened, Rada?" he asked, searching his son's face for any sort of emotion. "The two of you used to be so close. We used to be so close. And I hear too that you deny your own father now, who raised you when he could have stayed in Hell and never have been part of your life." Radaranarael's cold expression held firm as he replied in a monotone, "Things change." He turned away and spread his wings in preparation to take off. He paused for a moment, and looked back over his shoulder. "Goodbye, Metatron."