Destiny's Fool

This chapter makes me sad. :( Because it has sad things happening, not because it sucks or anything. ^^;

Read.


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Holy sat on the floor, his knees drawn tightly to his chest, resting his chin on the tops of his kneecaps. His face was half covered by the protection of his arms, his eyes staring back at Scrape.

Scrape reclined on a chair, smiling with his eyes closed up at the ceiling. In his hand was a thick length of rope that stretched from him to a tight leather collar around Holy’s neck.

“What do you suppose is taking him so long?” Scrape said, stretching as though he was totally relaxed.

Holy closed his eyes.

“I suppose it’s almost safe to say that he’s dead, what about you?” Scrape said, as though Holy had responded.

“He’s not,” Holy said softly.

Scrape sat up and tugged on Holy’s collar. Holy turned and glared hatefully at him, but a rising flush in his cheeks showed how humiliating he found his predicament.

“I was told you were proud despite your age and size,” Scrape said, “I really hate pride. I try to throw my own away as much as possible. This is really a good lesson for you. How do you like being my dog?”

Holy’s eyes lit up before the fire died out quickly, replaced by an overwhelming sadness. Holy hid his face again to cover it up, refusing to acknowledge that Scrape had gotten to him.

“Melanie said that I could have you after Gate was dead,” Scrape said. “I’ll give him a little bit longer, but I’m nearly positive he’s already dead.”

Holy stared at him, trying to translate what it meant for him to belong to Scrape.

“Oh?” Holy said finally, “Is that to be it? I’m to belong to you? I would be worried but I wasn’t aware that you were equipped with a dick at all.”

Scrape growled deep in his throat, sitting up and jerking Holy painfully by his leash towards him. Holy yelped and stumbled towards him on hands and knees to avoid any unecessary cuts into his neck.

“You know nothing of my creation,” Scrape said, continuing to pull him closer, glaring at him, eye to eye.

Holy’s eyes met him without fear. “I don’t need to,” Holy said.

“If only I didn’t have to wait until that fool’s death,” Scrape whispered, releasing Holy’s leash enough to give him some slack.

Holy sat back down, Indian style, staring at Scrape, trying to think. The predicament was bad. He was leashed and unable to escape. Scrape was known for fast reflexes and being a step ahead of his enemies.

The key to defeating Scrape was all in catching him off guard. Therein lied the problem. Scrape was paranoid. To the point where he suspected every bad deed of everything every person did.

Holy tilted his head as he stared at him, trying to figure something out. What could Holy do that Scrape would never ever see coming…?

Pride.

That was it. Scrape had decided he knew all there was to know about Holy in the area of pride. The boy had to admit, he did have a lot of pride when it came to being in the face of his enemies. But he also knew he had next to no pride when it came to his love for Gate, which he admitted without fear, even as Gate would abuse him for it.

No one in Melanie’s army had seen Holy, Gate’s lover. All they saw was Commander Holy of the Suit of Water. A cold-eyed boy of sixteen who was lightning fast and controlled his troups, though many of his men could be his father.

What they didn’t see was the way his vice-commander would ruffle his hair, or the way his soldiers would tease him.

Pride. Scrape thought the one thing Holy wouldn’t throw away was his pride.

Holy immediately saw this working to his advantage as he stood up.

“What?” Scrape glared at him, “What are you staring at, boy?”

“I was just thinking how this could be worse,” Holy said, walking towards Scrape, “I suppose, if I was to belong to anyone...”

“I thought you were Commander Gate’s little toy?” Scrape said with a cruel smirk.

Holy realized he’d have to pull quite an act to make this work. He looked away from Scrape, trying his best to look hurt and embarrased.

“What? What is it, little Commander?” Scrape asked, slowly winding Holy’s leash around his hand, careful of his bladed fingers.

Holy resisted the leash.

“Gate…” Holy seemed to be struggling with having to admit what he was trying to say, “He… He left me.”

“Interesting,” Scrape said, looking like he really thought so, “And, why would he bother saving you if this was the case?”

“He’s a man of morals,” Holy said, acting as though this in itself hurt his pride.

“So you would like to be my toy?” Scrape snorted.

“I could never make myself admit it…” Holy looked up at the ceiling, once again struggling to say the words, “But… I’ve always admired you and your work. You’re just so… I don’t know, to me you’re everything that Gate should have been.”

Holy inwardly winced. That didn’t sound convincing. He’d never buy it.

“I see,” Scrape purred, “What else?”

Holy nearly laughed out loud. Scrape was so set in what he thought he knew about Holy, he hadn’t seen through an obvious lie. A lie that, to Scrape, required too much pride on Holy’s part to make up.

“Don’t make me say it,” Holy said, holding his breath a little, blood climbing into his cheeks for a convincing blush.

“Come here, Holy.”

Holy felt disgust rise up in his at knowing what he was about to do, but he forced himself to move forward anyway, subtly swinging his hips a little. Scrape lay across the wide chair, waiting for him to approach, pulling on his leash.

Holy took a small breath and crawled on top of Scrape, laying his petite body across the older man’s, making sure that their hips were close.

“Mmm,” Scrape smirked, “So you love me?”

Holy looked away. “Yes,” he whispered.

Holy’s heart was pounding the whole time, assuming that Scrape would see right through him. However, what Holy didn’t realize, and what Gate could have told him if he’d asked, is that when it came to artforms, Holy excelled. Acting was just one of many talents that Holy possessed that he didn’t even know he had.

“Well, then prove it,” Scrape said, tugging on the leash.

Holy’s body operated on autopilot while Holy thought out his next move. He’d gotten Scrape’s guard down. He had to decide what to do next.

Holy leaned down, kissing Scrape passionately. Scrape, who had never been kissed by anything in his life, thus not knowing if Holy’s kiss was true or not, returned it with lust.

Holy reflected that the first thing he needed to do was take away Scrape’s weapons, which was easier said than done. His deadliest weapons were his fingers.

Holy came upon an idea and continued to kiss Scrape, allowing his hands to sensually lower themselves to Scrape’s shirt, pushing underneath it and lifting.

As he had hoped, Scrape’s arms moved up to allow the shirt to come off. Holy pushed it off, but as soon as it was passed his elbows, he suddenly pushed down, hands shaking, tying the shirt into a tight knot, forcing his arms together. Even as Scrape’s body jerked in alarm underneath him, Holy tightened the shirt to render Scrape’s arms mostly useless, then pressed against them to keep them back and away from him.

“What are you doing?!” Scrape growled.

“I like it kinky?” Holy suggested, his voice totally dry and no longer acting the part. In his hand, he summoned a blade and held it to Scrape’s neck. “Let go of the leash.”

Scrape’s hand released the strip of rope. Holy swallowed and saw that though Scrape’s grip was loose, the leash was still wrapped around his palm.

“Completely,” Holy growled, pressing the blade closer.

“Kind of hard with my arms tied together,” Scrape hissed.

Holy glared and reached up to unwind the leash. As he did, Scrape took advantage of this by leaning forward and biting down hard into Holy’s left side. Holy gave a small pained scream, surprised, jerking back.

In that moment, the blade was away from Scrape’s throat and the man wasted no time in sliding his restraints down to his hands and cutting into them with his fingers, freeing himself.

Holy gave a cry as Scrape pushed him hard. The boy landed hard on his chest on the hardwood floor. Before he could sit up an inch, Scrape straddled him from behind, jerking the leash painfully. Holy gave a cry as he felt the collar bite into his neck.

Scrape then forced Holy onto his back and raised both bladed hands, slamming them next to either side of his head. Each razor sharp blade was nearly touching Holy’s face, one of them putting a small nick in his ear.

“I don’t think Commander Gate will be arriving,” Scrape growled, “Which means you’re mine.”

“No!” Holy tried to push him, but it was of little use.

“Oh yes, little Commander,” Scrape grinned maniacally, “And we’ll see what’s left of you in the very end.”

~:~

Night had fallen during their negotiations with Gate, but soon, Jinn, Kit, Branret and Rose were walking with the Commander as he led them to the place where Scrape had said to meet him.

It was pitch black outside of the city, but they could all see the lit windows on the house that Scrape had said he’d be waiting.

“All right,” Jinn said, “Branret, Rose, go secure the perimeter. Gate and I will get Kit ready.”

Branret and Rose nodded, both of them heading off towards the house.

Jinn turned to Kit and took a length of rope, tying his hands together. Kit watched, though he could barely see, swallowing, a little nervous.

“You look good in rope,” Jinn smirked.

Kit blushed but said nothing as Jinn finished off the knot.

“Heh heh…” Jinn chuckled evilly as he tugged Kit closer by the ropes and dipped his tongue in the boy’s ear. Kit moaned and wiggled to get away.

“Jinn, stop!” he whispered.

“Enough you two,” Gate said from nearby, “We have a job to do.”

Jinn had managed to tug Kit in his lap. “Just tell me when you’re ready,” Jinn said, “And we’ll go.” With that, he continued to circle his tongue in and out of Kit’s ear.

Gate rolled his eyes and continued to watch the house, ignoring Kit’s whimpers and helpless moans.

After awhile, he saw one, then two sparks of light go off on either side of the house.

“There’s the signal,” he said.

“Awww,” Jinn pouted and let go of Kit, who lay back against Jinn’s chest, panting, cheeks flushed. Gate just rolled his eyes again and stood up.

Jinn gave Kit a push, and the boy stood and stumbled slightly towards Gate, who took his hands.

“No matter what happens,” Gate warned, “I’m going to stick to our plan. So don’t assume, even for a second, I’m going back on my word.”

Kit nodded.

“Ready, Jinn?” Gate asked.

“Ready,” Jinn nodded with a small salute.

Gate then pulled Kit along towards the house by his wrists. At first they just walked, but as he came in view of anyone who might be looking out the window, he began to roughly jerk Kit along.

Kit bit back a whine, knowing this was just part of what was going on.

Gate reached the door and knocked.

There was no answer for a long time. Gate scowled and knocked again, his expression one of worry.

Finally there was a loud thump and the sound of footsteps. Scrape answered the door, looking angry.

“I have the Traveler,” Gate said, tugging Kit forward.

“So I see,” Scrape said, looking unhappy. “Alive even.”

“Where’s Holy?” Gate asked.

Scrape stepped back to allowed Gate to see inside. Gate looked passed him, searching for Holy, but didn’t see him. Scrape simply turned and walked inside.

Gate tugged Kit along, following Scrape as he entered a room with a dusty hardwood floor, chipped walls and a chair in the center.

Gate’s eyes traveled down to the floor and suddenly his expression hardened in sudden rage. Kit leaned to see what he was looking at and gasped.

Laying on the floor in front of the chair, sprawled out on his back, was Holy. He was dressed simply in a plain white shirt and blue shorts, but the shirt was cut to pieces and his entire upper body was laced with cuts all over. There was a tight collar around his neck and blood running down from it. His right eye was swollen shut, a black bruise forming around it, and his hair was hacked and cut at all different lengths, pieces of it laying all around him.

He was awake, but crying softly, obviously not able to move very well.

“What did you do to him…?” Gate asked in a low, angry voice.

“Nothing,” Scrape said, picking up the leash, “You interrupted us.” With that, he sat down in the chair, placing his feet on top of Holy’s chest, causing the boy to whimper in pain.

Gate ground his teeth together, making a tight fist. Kit stared at him, then back at Holy, unsure of what to do. They hadn’t expected this.

Suddenly, Gate shoved Kit back and drew his sword, levelling it at Scrape.

“What is it, Gate?” Scrape asked, smirking. He jerked the leash and forced Holy to sit up. Holy cried out in pain, clawing at the leash for release.

Gate’s breathing picked up as he forced himself not to charge at Scrape then and there.

Kit struggled to reach his back pocket with his hands tied, trying to obtain his tarot cards, which he had placed there before they left.

Scrape had lifted Holy up until he was a shield, keeping Gate away from him effectively.

“Well, it seems I have the Traveler,” Scrape said, glancing at Kit, who froze, “I don’t see any reason to keep you or this little Commander here.”

With that, he raised his index finger, tapping the blade on Holy’s neck. Gate growled deep in his throat, but before anyone could move, the blade cut into Holy’s neck and jerked, spilling blood onto the floor.

Kit heard a loud, shrill scream and realized it was his own. He couldn’t make himself stop.

Everything ran in slow motion. Holy’s body fell to the floor with a loud thud and Gate’s feet were running as fast as they could, driving his blade forward as hard as he could. Scrape flipped back and over the back of the chair to escape the blade, but his eyes widened in surprise as the blade went straight through the cloth and padding and into Scrape’s stomache.

Things froze for a moment, Scrape doubled over, Gate standing, tense, holding the hilt of the sword, and Holy, laying still on the ground in a growing puddle of blood.

Everything was broken as there was a loud crashing sound and Branret burst into the room, stopping. On the otherside, Rose came in, walking towards them calmly.

The front door opened and Jinn skidded in, freezing at the scene.

Gate released the hilt and dropped to his knees, then turned and crawled over to Holy. He frantically turned him over and pressed a hand over his neck, trying to stop the blood.

“Holy, please…” he whispered, “I can’t do this without you. You have to hold on.”

Holy’s eyes were open, but he wasn’t making a sound. Slowly, he reached a blood drenched hand up and touched Gate’s face, smearing blood across his cheek.

His hand fell and he mouthed “I love you” at Gate, then closed his eyes. Gate stared at him for a long time, tightening his hand over his throat.

Suddenly, he screamed, pulling Holy’s body close to him.

“Come back!” he shouted, “Holy! That’s an order! You have to come back! I can’t… I can’t go on without you… I love you too, and you’re the only reason I’m alive right now at all, so please…”

“Move.”

Gate slowly looked up, tears running down his face, and saw Desert Rose standing over him, holding her scythe behind her back and across her shoulders.

“I said move,” she said.

Gate numbly let go of Holy and moved back. Desert Rose knelt down next to him and lifted him up by his shoulders.

Kit watched, knowing that Holy had to be dead. There was so much blood on the floor. There wasn’t any left inside of Holy.

Desert Rose closed her eyes as she touched his neck. Kit was sure nothing would happen, but suddenly she began to glow. Around her, the puddle of blood suddenly turned to light and in little glowing balls began to rise. The entire room lit up in the splendor as the blood all disappeared, turned to light.

All at once, all of the light flew into Holy. Desert Rose placed a hand on his chest.

She said something that Kit didn’t understand and suddenly, Holy’s eyes shot open wide, his body twitching as he took a struggling breath. He suddenly sat up, holding his throat and coughing harshly.

“Holy!” Gate cried and ran forward, tripping once before regaining his feet and landing next to Holy, pulling him into his arms, “Holy…”

“Gate…” Holy closed his eyes and held onto him tightly.

Rose stood up, watching them with no emotion in her eyes. Jinn was frowning at her, as though trying to figure something out.

He walked over.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“It’s a simple spell,” she shrugged and turned, walking out.

Kit got to his feet, struggling with the ropes on his wrists. He looked up, tears running down his face, overcome with relief and emotion. Jinn turned and looked up at him.

Kit ran towards him and Jinn opened his arms a little, but blinked when Kit ran right by him, burying his face in Branret’s chest. Jinn turned slowly, a hard, painful, unidentified pang riding up through the center of his chest, and watched them, Branret whispering softly in Kit’s ear, untying his wrists. As soon as Kit was free, he wrapped his arms around Branret’s neck.

Gate gathered Holy in his arms and walked towards the front door, nodding at Jinn as he did.

Kit pulled away from Branret after a moment and walked cautiously over to Scrape, pulling his cards from his back pocket.

One of them shot up and Kit read it.

“The Death Card,” Kit said. Saying nothing more, he held it up and there was a glowing as Scrape disappeared inside of it.

“Jinn,” Branret said, pulling Kit back to him, “We should head back to the inn. We still need to set out tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’ll catch up,” Jinn replied. Neither Kit nor Branret argued. Branret just guided Kit out of the room, continuously rubbing his back. Jinn heard their voices fade and stood there in the center of the room.

Slowly, the elf sat down in the chair in the center room, grabbing the sword and moving it out of the way.

Suddenly, tears flew down Jinn’s face.

“What the fuck?!” Jinn screamed, “Why am I suddenly so emotional?!”

Even as he screamed in anger, tears still rapidly ran down his face, making it hard for him to see. He rubbed at them, wishing they would go away.

“I don’t understand!” Jinn shouted, “I want to go home!! I just want to go home!!”

Jinn stayed there for a long time, eventually crying himself to sleep in the chair. No one came to find him or even realized he was gone.

But for some reason, Kit couldn’t sleep well that night.