Divinitas

Divinitas



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Website: http://cruelangel.net/divinitas



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064: Mortals' Game



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A mortals’ game, Aether had called it in passing. And indeed that was what they played as: two deities, playing with one another with the limits of a human’s power. It was an illusion, only an illusion, and both players and any watchers knew it to be only that. Yet it calmed Phoenix in a way he wouldn’t have thought such a token gesture would have bestowed. He felt as if a smothering weight had been lifted, and perhaps one had been, for the chains that bound him to Aether seemed untied and withdrawn. And with it, the undefinable fear he had felt lifted, and lessened the threat of his Dream being stripped from him.



There was no unseeable pressure, no terrible silent longing to somehow be connected to the God of Soul. Yes, the illusion of freedom could do wonders for those who thought themselves enchained for all of eternity.



However, by no means did this imply that Aether demanded any less attention from Phoenix. From the every first moment Phoenix stepped out of bathroom after accepting Aether’s proposal, still dripping wet from the bath he had taken and only less bare by means of a towel draped carelessly around his waist, Aether had all but ambushed him. And Phoenix had fought back with clawed hands and teeth.



That was the nature their relationship settled into. Predator and pray, with either submission or escape at the end of their play.



Their first night was violent and liberal with the amount of blood spilt. Phoenix learnt the taste of his own blood very well within those first three hours, and knew exactly what his screams sounded like, and what it took to draw one from his raw throat.



Aether hadn’t lied when he said he would hurt Phoenix, nor when he said he would make him scream and bleed. The God of Soul did all these things, and Phoenix received everything Aether gave him, chains binding his wrists and ankles.



When you’re being hurt so much, kissed and made to taste your own blood on another’s lips, made to scream into the mouth that kissed you as a sharp little blade was raked down your back, you didn’t think much. Thoughts were coloured red, and there was nothing but the pounding of your own heart and the panting of your laboured breaths in your ears. But Phoenix had one thought, and that was simply: ‘I love that you do this to me, Aether…’



It might have been brought on by the pain, a thought formed in a state of delirium, but it was true. Phoenix’s body loved the pain, lusted after the way Aether would touch him, fingernails scrapping down sweat and blood covered skin. And it was fine for him to accept it, because he was chained and could do nothing else but to submit to it. There was no war between his mind and his body, because there was nothing he could do… that was their contract, and these were the unwritten rules they played by.



Aether had laid beside Phoenix at the end of those three hours, head propped on one hand, the other lazily dragging the tip of a bloody dagger down Phoenix’s back. The sensation sent shivers running up Phoenix’s spine. He might have moaned if he had any strength left to spend.



“You can go now, if you want,” Aether said, tracing an unseen pattern down between Phoenix’s shoulder blades.



The God of Fire laughed. Or tried to. It came out as a half choked sound, throat still too sore to manage honest laughter. “I can’t even remember how many times you’ve made me come these past hours… but you… you still have your clothes on. Are you satisfied with that, Lord Aether?” Mocking again. He couldn’t help it.



Aether cocked a golden eyebrow. “Don’t you want to leave for your own clean bed?”



“You keep on mentioning that. Do you really intend to kick me out? I’ll never forgive you if you do. It would be very cruel, to kick me out after you’ve cut me all up. How’s my back?”



“Healed. I didn’t do overly much damaged to it in the first place.”



Phoenix made a noise of disbelief and rolled over, chains tinkling prettily. “You really aren’t going to fuck me?” Red eyes stared into amethyst.



“Do you want me to?”



“No.”



“I will, if you like. Tomorrow.”



“Ha, if you can catch me.”



“I will. I will always catch you, my Phoenix. You’ll never fly away from me. You will always be mine.”



A lazy smile.



“Shut up.”





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Three hours, followed by a tenderness left in the wake of pain. It was only then that something devoid of hate bloomed between the two. But in waking hours, sunlight brought to light all cracks and bitter truths, and it would be as if what passed between them under the cover of darkness had never taken place.



Over the following days, Draco managed to bring in tutors, weapons and unarmed combat masters, and even, much to Phoenix’s chagrin, dance and etiquette instructors – though why Phoenix had to know how to use multiple spoons, forks and knives was beyond him. But with this, Phoenix’s typical day settled into a routine of study and training, thankfully devoid of a certain amethyst eyed fiend, as Casimir managed to drag Aether off somewhere for most of the days, ranting on about how if he didn’t move the souls on soon, she wasn’t going to be able to breathe.



Nights however, were always theirs alone. And Phoenix’s quarters became only a place where he kept his belongings, or where he went to take an exhausted nap or bath after an intense training routine. After a week, they still remained as bare in furniture as they had been when Draco first showed them to him.



“Phoenix, may I talk to you?”



The God of Fire half turned, but didn’t halt Chimaera who was dragging him down to the newly completed stables. “Yeah, of course. What is it?” Phoenix ask, craning his head around to look at Draco whilst still keeping pace with the God of Earth.



“Are you alright?” the God of Water inquired, falling into step beside him.



Phoenix blinked. “Last time I checked. My clothes aren’t burning again, are they? Because I do not want to go up to Yuu and tell her I need more clothes because my fire ate them again.”



“No, it’s not that,” Draco began carefully. “Phoenix, I was just approached by one of the chamber maids… she requested more silk to be purchased to replaced the bed sheets in Aether’s chambers, as well has more hands to help her with cleaning and making them. She said they are always soaked through with blood in the mornings when she makes her rounds.”



“Oh.”



Chimaera giggled, letting go of Phoenix’s hand and jumped out in front of them, walking backwards whilst looking like a cat that had gotten into the cream. “Phoenix screams too. A lot. The mice told me so.”



“We have mice in the castle? Ah, well, I should have expected it… Genesis might be sentient, but it is still a castle after all…” Draco paused. “Wait, that wasn’t the point. Why do you scream, Phoenix?”



“Eh, well, I scream when Aether cuts into me, I guess… Or when he twists a blade… or stabs me. And sometimes when I… you know,” Phoenix finished lamely, trying not to go red in the face.



Draco stopped. “And you are alright with this?” the God of Water asked, unable to understand how lightly his comrade was recounting what could only be taken as torture.



Phoenix turned, the blush fading from his face. It was almost disconnecting, how vivid the change of expression was. “And if I wasn’t, what could you do about it, Draco?” Phoenix asked softly, almost dangerously, as if daring the other to judge him. “This is the price I pay for my freedom, so I’m not doll to be directed at Aether’s whims. I can reject him, and I can fight him, and the price I pay for it is my blood and my pain. A doll does not bleed and a doll does not feel pain or scream. I do all three. On some twisted level I love it because I know I’m not a doll because I do these things. I also feel I bloody deserve it for every life I’ve taken to gain my continued existence,” Phoenix finished, an angry note vibrating along the words.



The God of Water was clearly taken aback. And clearly none of it truly registered with him, certainly not on an empathetic level. “I can’t claim I understand,” Draco said finally, frowning a touch.



Phoenix swallowed a bitter laugh – or perhaps a resigned sigh. “Just… don’t worry about it, Draco. Don’t worry about me. It’s not as if any of us can die. Any wound I receive from Aether’s overly enthusiastic displays of affection heals seconds after it’s inflected. If I was still mortal, then you have cause to worry.”



Draco didn’t look at all convinced, but nodded despite it and excused himself after reminding Phoenix of his sword lesson that afternoon.



“Don’t use your mice to spy on us in Aether’s rooms,” Phoenix said with a frown as he continued following Chimaera towards the stables.



“I didn’t!” Chimaera denied with large hurt puppy dog eyes. “The mice were just saying how loud you were and that your screams kept them awake!”



“Ugh. Let’s just not talk about this anymore,” Phoenix muttered, turning red again and feeling more than a little embarrassed with the whole conversation.



The newly built stables were homely and comfortable, a direct contrast to the outside appearance of the Castle of Genesis they were now part of. Draco had also brought in stable hands to take care of the building and accompanying paddocks, even though the only current tenant of the stables was that one foal Phoenix had orphaned. A foal that refused to let Phoenix touch him, and would bite the God of Fire whenever he tried.



“It still hates me?” Phoenix asked, hanging over the half door of the stall they had given the foal, watching as Chimaera bottle fed it.



“He. The foal is a colt, silly Phoenix,” Chimaera chided, stroking the colt’s neck, nimble fingers avoiding still healing flesh. It didn’t escape Phoenix’s notice that the youth had avoided his question.



It hurt. Of course it hurt. To be so hated, to be so shunned. But how else would one react to the one who had murdered one’s mother? He deserved nothing less, but it hurt… because Phoenix wanted to just hold the foal. Just hold it and let it know how sorry he was. To be denied that even… it hurt.



“Does he have a name?”



“Hmm, nothing we can say properly. I suggested Cookies, but he just looked at me funny… I was hungry at the time!” the youth protested when Phoenix also gave him a weird look.



“That just kind of makes it worse, Chimaera,” Phoenix replied flatly, feeling for the colt who was torn between wanting to finish his bottle and edging away from the God of Earth. “Eternal,” the God of Fire said at length. “Because he didn’t die.”



The bay colt paused in his suckling, exchanging silent words. “Eh, he says it’s a stupid sucky name, but he’ll think about it anyway.”



Phoenix smiled faintly. “I can’t ask for more than that.”





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Since the first night, when Phoenix had taken that headlong flight from Aether, the God of Fire hadn’t carried his Divine Weapon unless it was required for an elemental training session. It sat neglected with the other three Elemental Weapons in the Upper Heart of Genesis, held in safe keeping by four giant statues Genesis had created there for the single purpose of protecting the weapons from anyone who might have dared to touch them. These statues were winged, made in the image of the God whose weapon they held in outstretched hands.



The reason for this was simply that life within the Castle of Genesis didn’t require the Divine Beasts presence, nor the magnification of the Elemental powers the weapon provided. And frankly, aside from the God of Air’s daggers, the weapons were more of a burden to carry than they were a benefit, though Phoenix often wish he did carry his long double ended sword all the time, just so he could skew Aether on the end of a blade.



Like now, because the fiend was standing in the courtyard that had been reserved for his sword lesson, smirking at him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here,” Phoenix hissed, stalking past the swords master and planting himself in front of Aether, whose hands were caressing a lovely slender blade, testing its tempered edge against fingers that had so often done such unspeakable things to him.



“I’m taking your ‘advice,’ beloved. I’m taking up the sword to protect myself from your imminent attacks… well, I am taking up the katana anyway. Beautiful, isn’t it?” Aether inquired with a dark smile, showing Phoenix the sinfully single sharp edge on the long silver shinning blade. “A katana, from the island nation of Japan. My weapon of choice. Whilst you go around waving that overly elaborate and bulky sword… I think something slender and graceful like this is much more befitting of me, don’t you?”



“Ha ha. Don’t call me ‘beloved.’ You haven’t the right,” Phoenix said darkly, turning his back and snatching up the two bladed sword his swords master was holding out for him.



He hadn’t expected to see Aether there. The God of Soul rarely imposed himself on Phoenix’s life during daylight hours. And to see his God here, away from the darkness of their nightly relationship, Phoenix couldn’t help but feel slightly hopeful. Which made Phoenix all the more bitter.



“Don’t you have your ‘godly duties’ to attend to instead of wasting your time feeling up that sword?” Phoenix mocked, bringing up the sword similar to his Divine Weapon in an attack stance, and giving a nod to his instructor to begin the counter moves against him.



“Why? Jealous? Rather I be feeling up your’s?” Aether asked innocently, watching with an evil smile as Phoenix faltered, dramatically losing his rhythm and nearly impaling himself on his sword.



“That is fucking it!” Phoenix exploded, throwing aside his restraint and hurling himself at Aether, intent on lopping off that smirking head of his.



Aether’s laughter only further enraged him, and the way he so easily turned aside his strikes as if they mere child’s play. It made him reckless, his attacks sloppy, but gave them more power than there ever was. One blow slipped and grazed Aether’s thigh, tearing the material of his pants and drawing blood.



The sight of Aether’s blood froze Phoenix. The desire to lick it, to lock his mouth around the wound and probe it with his tongue, devouring that rich redness overwhelmed him. Phoenix’s momentary lapse was all the God of Soul needed, and with an ear splitting screech of metal on metal, Aether disarmed Phoenix, pointing his katana at the youth’s throat.



“All you have to do is ask, my Phoenix…” Aether cooed, his free hand dropping down to his thigh and wiping twin fingers through the stream of blood. The God of Soul held them out in a mocking offer, sensually licking them clean whilst watching Phoenix through lowered lashes.



With a growl, Phoenix dropped down in the blink of an eye, leg swiping out and knocking Aether onto the ground. The God of Fire leapt on top of Aether before he had even regained his breath, sending the katana flying. There was the sound of material ripping and a sudden sharp pain on his thigh where the gash was healing.



Aether learnt one lesson that day. Never tease Phoenix unless you want to be bitten.



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End 064, Continued in 065