I am now beginning to post this story here to . I intended to do so some time ago, but am only just now getting around to it. Please enjoy!

FULL SUMMARY: Alternate Earths have been theorized for centuries, confirmed for scant decades, and not yet understood in any sort of detail. Yet across them all, it was thought, only Humanity existed in sentience upon the physical plane. The truth, however, could not have been more different. From one of these far worlds came the Fallen Angel known to Earth Bet as Anette Hebert, who hid her nature behind the guise of the parahuman Uaibhreach, and the day would come when her daughter would take up the Mantle of Power and continue her works...

NephilemTaylor, FallenTaylor, HeroButNotPRTTaylor, Taylor/femharem (its Highschool DxD, what do you expect?), IndependantHeroTaylor.

There is now a TVTropes page for this story! Please feel free to add any tropes!

For those unaware, the best place to follow this story is Spacebattles (for the PG version) and Questionable Questing (for the eventual NSFW stuff). This is primarly because the forum-style nature of those websites allow you to chat with me and with your fellow readers!

Furthermore, this story now has a TV Tropes page, which anyone is welcome to contribute too. I also hav N, with many benefits, including being/creating a character for any of my currently-getting-updated stories (so this and Nothing Is True, perhaps Because of the War if it gets enough support!) which can be minor or, with higher ranks, be a central character to entire story arcs!

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Raven hair, long and in cascading curls, drifted gently in the warm summer breeze that warmed the studio through its open windows. The long, slender fingers of an artist's hands drummed on a desk of mahogany as jade-green eyes glared in profound frustration down upon the sixteen polished objects resting ever innocently upon its dark surface. They seemed to mock her with their unchanging faces, uncaring and unaffected by all of her efforts these past years, but she learned more and more about them with every attempt. Someday, she would succeed and then…

"Momma!" the patter of a child's bare feet slapping on a hardwood floor and a cry of her title both interrupted and provided warning, and she swiftly spun her chair around just in time to catch the flying body of her five year old daughter, who was giggling gleefully at the 'fun'.

"Taylor, what have I told you about that? Its rude, and you could get badly hurt if I didn't catch you in time!" she scolded her precocious child for what felt like the thousandth time, and said child merely giggled louder before responding.

"But Momma always catches me, because Momma won't let me get hurt!" Taylor chirped back happily, the chastisement going the way of water off of a duck's back. To the young mind cradled in her arms, it was an irrelevant comment because her mother obviously wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. With the speed of only the young or the frenetic, Taylor's attention was caught by the very objects that had been the focus of her mother's ire only moments before. "Mommy, why do those toys feel icky and slimy? I don't like them…"

"They're very special, my little owl." Anette's voice was soft as she ran the fingers of one hand through a head of hair so very like her own. "Someday they'll be clean and Pure, and safe for you to use. Then, they will help you make the most loyal friends you could ever hope for, and you can be a hero like you always wanted."

"REALLY? Like Alexandria and Legend and Idol-long?" her daughter gasped excitedly, clapping her hands happily as she listed her favorite heroes in order of preference. She wasn't to fond of Eidolon, always insisting he looked 'super grumpy' on the television. Her mother laughed and tweaked her nose.

"Eidolon, dear, and yes it would be just like them. Someday, you'll be the greatest hero of all time. Everyone will know the name of my baby girl." Her mother promised, to the delight of Taylor who nodded emphatically in agreement. "Why don't you go pick out a movie for us to watch until your Daddy gets home?"

With a loud exclamation of eager assent, Taylor popped out of her mother's lap and dashed out of the room, chattering to herself about what movie she wanted to see the most in that particular moment. Anette's own good cheer faded as she turned back to her workspace. To the gleaming, polished black stone, surrounded to her eyes by a seething, black-tinged crimson aura of power.

"I'll succeed eventually, you know." She murmured to the distant former owner of the artifacts, and more besides, that she had claimed before fleeing to this world so long ago. An ancient enemy of both herself and a world at large. "When she becomes everything she is meant to be, she'll tear your little kingdom down around your ears and drive you screaming into the Abyss like the worm you are. I swear it."

With that she swept from the room, closing the door to her studio behind her and making her way towards the living room. The time would come where the weight of Creation rested on Taylor's shoulders, but for now her beloved child was just that: a child. And by God she would make sure Taylor's childhood was a good one.

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"She looks more like you every single day, sweetheart." Daniel Hebert, a six foot two inches tall, ranking member of the Dockworker's Union whose wiry and thin build somewhat disguised the powerful muscles contained within his skin, told his wife. He was no linebacker, no broad stone wall of a man, but a life of physical labor in the Lord's Port of Brockton Bay ensured that he was not someone to try and brawl with. Even with the golden age of sail long since over, the advent of forklifts and massive cranes taking the figurative and literal weight off of human workers, it was still not the sort of job where one could avoid performing significant amounts of physical effort for long. The physical prowess of himself and his compatriots, as well as their tendency to take no shit and work in unison with one another in reaction to threats, ensured that only the most drugged-to-the-gills of Merchants were willing to tangle with them. "She'll have to beat admirers off with a stick…or two."

His beloved wife, curled happily into his side where they sat on the couch, snorted softly in amused agreement at the not-insignificant understatement. She might not be the most vain member of her race, hell she wasn't even the most vain by purely human measurement, but it was equally true that she was (literally) inhumanly beautiful. It was only natural, then, that her daughter would take after her when it came to looks. Once puberty hit, it would become even more apparent. No A-Cup angst for her baby girl, oh no! She cackled mentally at the thought before sobering.

"She's taking after me for power, as well. She is going to surpass me, surpass everyone Danny. She's already flaring noticeable, and it won't be more than a year before she blossoms." She told her husbandly solemnly, no pride nor exaggeration colouring her words or tone. Her husband nodded in agreement, having no reason to doubt her claims. He knew how beyond the average parahuman Anette was, and he was entirely willing to believe (parental pride aside, of course) that Taylor would be even more so. "I expect that Emma will be her first Companion when the time comes. They're already inseparable, and I can't imagine Taylor asking anyone else."

"Neither can I, but Emma has never struck me as someone who is going to spend a lot of time on the front lines. She's more of a support-type, I suppose. She's always been Taylor's friend, rather than Taylor being hers." Danny mused, his tone making it clear (as if clarification were needed) that he meant no disparagement to the young redhead. Despite her hair color, she didn't really match the overall stereotypes, lacking a volcanic temper. At least half of the girl's day was spent reigning in Taylor when his daughter was in full-blown motor-mouth mode…or when she was displaying the temper she had inherited from him. Oh, Anette was hardly a wilting wall flower, the very idea was comically absurd, but she was always more forgiving than him. Ironically, given the stereotypes about her race in mankind's myths and legends.

"Taylor will need a rock, an anchor of steel, and Emma already does the job perfectly. She always has." Anette gave a lazy shrug beneath his arm. "I'm just worried that any old 'comrades' of mine, or enemies for that matter, will go after her to get at me. I don't want you two getting caught up in my mistakes…"

"Hey, the minute you said 'Yes' that night, I got involved for better or worse, richer or poorer, remember?" her husband chastised her, voice loving but unyielding as he tilted her face up with one calloused hand to lock their eyes together. "We're a family, angel, and family means that no one gets left behind."

Caught between wanting to roll her eyes at the corniness and Disney quotes and melting from the love she felt for him, she opted to take the middle ground and kiss him firmly. A kiss that soon deepened and things were just beginning to get interesting when twin groans of disgust echoed. The two adults looked over to see a pair of theatrically gagging eleven year olds.

"So gross, you guys! Can't you keep the icky stuff where I can't see it?" Taylor whined plaintively, getting laughter and assurances from both her parents that she 'would understand someday'. "Ugh, as if! Boys are super gross. C'mon Ems, lets go to my room before they start again."

The two pre-teens fled to their 'sanctuary' to the vast amusement of the adults in the room, who returned to their cuddling with soft laughter in their throats. After an hour of gentle kisses and sweet nothings murmured lowly, Danny headed out for a night shift and Anette started to prepare dinner.

Despite her husband's words, she knew what she would do if she ever thought her family might be in danger: draw the enemy away and annihilate them…or die trying. She would be truly Damned before she would let others harm those that she loved, especially if the only aim was to cause her pain through their suffering. A tactic that her (hopefully very distant) enemies were fond of using in their petty and arrogant cruelty. It was as pathetic as it was dishonorable, hardly befitting such ancient and illustrious people.

She resisted the urge to spit on the ground in utter disgust at the very thought of 'those people.' She might not be the Patron Saint of Pure Souls, far from it as a matter of fact, but she was a veritable Archangel compared to those hunting her. Fortunately, they thus far didn't seem to have any idea that she was no longer on her home Earth. Hell, she didn't know if they were even aware that other versions of Earth existed! She herself had only discovered through pure happenstance!

Hearing giggles and squeals of laughter from her daughter's room, she banished such thoughts from her mind and focused on the task at hand. There was little purpose in ruminating on the future, little enough cause to do so, and much to be gained from focusing on happier things, like her family and friends.

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Annette Hebert snarled to herself in frustration as she weaved her way through the Brockton Bay suburbs with speed bordering on the illegal. Her normal grace and calm had evaporated not an hour ago, when she had called her family from the education convention at which she had spent the last three days. Taylor had snuck out of the house and gone flying for the first time ever the night before, in spite promising never to do precisely that when her wings had fully formed a handful of months ago. The result of Annette chastising her in no small amount of fear (nightmarish visions of her daughter dying horribly filling her mind) had been Taylor virtually exploding in fury uncharacteristic without serious provocation. An argument had ensued, and for the first time in her life Annette felt she could understand what her friends and coworkers were talking about when they complained about their children's poor attitudes and behaviors.

She was frustrated with herself, now, more than she was angry at Taylor. She knew how addicting, how joyful, flying could be and she had been born with wings and the power of flight. For Taylor, it would be all the more alluring to take that first flight, to dance through the sky under her own power alone. Her fear, however, that her daughter would have an accident or be attacked had overwhelmed her. As a result, harsh words on both sides had been spoken, and now she was headed back to the city proper with far less restraint than was her normal wont. Sighing to herself, she slowed to a more reasonable pace as she left the more open roads and drew closer to 'civilization'. She didn't want to hurt anyone simply because she was in a rush, and getting arrested for reckless endangerment or speeding or what have you would certainly ruin her chances of getting to her family any time soon.…she supposed following the traffic laws was a good thing too.A flash of Warning tingled through her body, and her head snapped around to see a truck barreling towards her, and her enhanced sight revealed the driver to her. A ravenette with scarlet streaks in her hair, face contorted in triumph and rage in equal measure. She knew that face, though she hadn't seen it in years. Adrianna, one of Lustrum's most fanatical followers, and one of those who had sworn revenge on Anette and her friends when they had left the feminist cape's organization, despite that their departure had Lustrum's seal of approval.She tried to turn her car out of the way, but she knew that she wouldn't make it. She was flatfooted and moving slower than her attacker, and Light spiraled around her as she tried to summon warding magics.

Her eyes widened further in horror as her power slipped away. A ward, someone had put up a ward designed to prevent use of magic!I love you! Her heart, her soul, cried out to her distant loved ones in the final instant she had before the collision. Then the impact came, hurling her car (and her body) across the road. Pain consumed her senses, blackness encroaching on her vision. A flare of scarlet shone briefly just out of sight (or was that simply blood running down her face?) before the door was torn from the frame of the car and she was dragged bodily from its depths. A cruelly smirking face swam into view, framed by shaggy silver hair and with a dagger-like beard, and she gasped in protest and realization as chains curled around her before darkness consumed all in full.When the police arrived, they would find two corpses, one in each vehicle, and a note of intent on Adrianna. Writing the situation off as a classic revenge-by-suicide event, the case was closed without investigation and the apparent victim's family was informed.Young Taylor, only thirteen years old, was now motherless. Her father was shattered, his soulmate stolen from him, but he knew that Taylor would need him now more than ever. She was young, volatile, and growing in power. She needed comfort and assurance, that she wasn't to blame, that her mother had loved her, and that no matter how harsh an argument they might have had, Annette had known Taylor loved her.###############################################A few days after the funeral, which was well-attended by friends of the family, students and colleagues of the deceased, and a scant handful of more random well-wishers,

Taylor rose and shuffled to the door as a firm knock resounded. She opened it to find a UPS driver, looking suitably solemn, with a stack of large boxes on a dolley. Signing for them, and accepting his condolences (he must have been local, to know her mother had died), she opened the first box. Within was journals and three ring binders, all written by her mother, and a search of the other boxes revealed the same. All but one of them appeared to be just blank pages, but even with her nonexistent skills she could feel the magic on them. No, they were not empty, but their contents instead were carefully hidden.Taking up the first , the only one that she could read, she tentatively opened it and began to read.

My dearest daughter, if you're reading this than I am gone. I'm sorry, so, so sorry to have left you and your father, but know I would never have done so if I had the choice. I loved you and your father more than life itself, little owl, but it is probably because of that love that I am gone.I have enemies, Taylor, ones ancient and powerful both. Ones that no one on Earth Bet could possibly begin to comprehend. I'm not from here, Taylor, but instead a world I have taken to calling Earth Trifecta. On that Earth, and I feel in all Earths, the beings described in the Bible are all too real. God, Lucifer, Devils and Demons…all real, with conflicts all too terrible.You and I, we're Fallen Angels, called Grigori by the ancients. 'The Watchers', those who sought to safeguard mankind from its own stupidity, to protect it from Lucifer and his followers. It was this, however, that brought about our Fall in one way or another.Free Will was the ultimate decree of God for Mankind, more free even than we Angels, though we were by no means slaves. It was this Free Will that we intruded upon in our desire to control humans. Our cause was pure, we thought, 'for their own good', but it was Sinful nonetheless. We tried to take their Free Will, to guide them as we saw fit, and we were cast down for it. But He was merciful, in a way, for though we Fell we did not become as Lucifer did. We did not become Devils, Monsters in the Darkness. We were Angels still, though our wings became black and Heaven was closed to us.The other Angels, our brothers and sisters, did not see it this way. War broke out between Angels, Fallen, and Devils. All three sides fighting in a chaotic mess that nearly annihilated mankind, helpless as they were in the midst of our battlefields. Finally, through great bloodshed, an uneasy peace was achieved. A peace that, so far as I know, stands still to this day.There are those working against it however, and I and my comrades worked against them in turn. I am hated by these would-be war-mongers, and I have little doubt that I am gone because they found me…but they will not find you. I made sure of that.Train, Taylor, follow my journals to control and enhance your strength and, when the time comes, bring true peace to your home and mine both. You are special, Taylor, half human and half angel. The strengths, and weaknesses, of both. The heart of both.

You'll change the world, little owl, I promise you that.Love, your mother.

Sniffling in emotion, Taylor hugged the journal to her chest. She had been raised in Faith, as many were to one degree or another in the Western World, so some of her mother's revelations were not so colossal as they might be to others. Even the knowledge of her true nature was not earth-shaking, not really. She could certainly see her mother risking everything for the sake of others, and making enemies because of it. She had done that here as well, and it had killed her.In truth, it would hit her somewhat harder soon enough, but in that moment a fierce desire was born within her soul. A desire to do as her mother bid, to become as powerful as she could and to protect the innocents of humanity, just like her mother had. Brushing away her tears, she squared her jaw mulishly and leafed through the journal to the first page of training. She would dedicate every moment that she had to mastering these books, to do her mother proud.Never once did it occur to her that her mother wouldn't have wanted her to obsess over training. Never once did it occur to her that moderation was, in fact, key. In time, it would be a lesson learned, but not for nearly two years.