Divinitas

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Divinitas

Written by Caleyndar
Website: http://cruelangel.net/divinitas

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XD For anyone who's interested, the results for the 2007 Divinitas Fan Fic Comp are up on the website. ^_^

jeazard: Yeah, Aether is... mean. You probably won't like him in this or the next chapter. HAHAHA. Or for a while. XD

MidnightsKeeper: You'll find out who the Principal is in the Post arc, yes. He doesn't appear in the Past arc though... I think. ^_^;;;

cinque: Yeah... I love obsessive possessive relationship. XD Resistance play is fun. ^_^ I'm glad you like the story so far, btw. XD

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069 - Cradle and Grave

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I grew up here.

Ari smirked. And I was born here. Well… perhaps ‘came out to play’ would be a better phrase? Since I have always existed in your shadow.

I wish you had never existed.

“Go to sleep, Gryps. And dream your dreams of beautiful things that you so loved to paint once,” the darker half of the God of Air murmured, walking through the immense shrine at the heart of the Aetheist Temple, where winged statues carved in the image of Aether stood tall and benevolent, with an expression that never graced Aether’s face now.

Nothing had changed. The gold was still as polished and gleaming as it had ever been, and the jewels set into the alter sparkled too bright. In reality, only two or three months had passed since he had left. Chosen amongst all those Elemental Children who resided here, and those hated Children of Fire gathered from the slums for the Sacrifice as ordered by the Tenshi… It seemed a lifetime ago, like stepping back into a former existence where death had already passed.

It was another life though, wasn’t it. If the priests remember him, they did not show it. And surely they did, the beautiful silver haired Child of Air whose silky skin they had tasted too often until he had surfaced like some blood thirsty demon to paint their shrines red.

Ari could remember that too. Hating, hating, hating so, so much those who touched his other half. Touched him, raped him, then patted him on the head afterwards, telling him he was such a good boy. He had wanted to kill them all. And he had, hadn’t he? That was why he wore chains always after that. Death wasn’t an option. Since these priests revered him, on one level or another.

Now they worshipped him as a deity, after Aether’s brief impatient words to say who they were before vanishing into the bowls of the temple. Such a careless god, Aether. Well, expect towards his pretty Phoenix.

Let him play, if he wanted. The other deities were no concern of his. As long as Gryps was unharmed, what did he care if Aether made Phoenix scream so loudly in the night? And Chimaera had learnt his lesson: never touch his precious other self. The youth was still all smiles around him, but you could tell. You could tell it was forced, and their encounters never lasted longer than necessary if they were alone.

Draco… Draco, however, sparked his interest. Draco didn’t fear him at all, found him only an annoyance at times when he shed unnecessary blood. It made Ari want to dig under his skin, worsen that annoyance until Draco couldn’t stand it anymore and rose that ever controlled voice of his and smacked him across the face. Because really, he liked it when others crossed him. It was like an open invitation to play a vicious game of cat and mouse.

But right now, Draco was no where in sight to bother and annoy. And Phoenix was locked away somewhere with Aether lavishing his twisted brand of affection on him.

So why stay? Why continue to wander this childhood prison and place of torturous memories that made his beloved half cringe as if they burned. No one had told them to stay put. No one had barred them from leaving the Aetheist Temple.

They could run away.

The thought made Ari laugh out loud, a sudden echoing sound in the silence that startled two unsuspecting priests as they walked past.

Yes, run away. As Gryps had done before Ari awoke from the depths of their soul. Run away, only to be brought back to be flogged and chained, left alone without comfort to cry until streaks were carved into his dusty cheeks.

But now they could without fear of punishment. No human would dare, ever, ever again to punish them again.

Without further thought, the God of Air slipped away from the temple, long silver hair near-glowing in the sliver of moonlight. His colouring and clothing made people gawk, and the daggers strapped high on his thighs made those who thought to rob him banish their thoughts.

It had been years since they’d last walked this way. Chains had always held him fast in the past few years. And even when Gryps so wanted to leave, and the air swirled angrily around him, rattling the chains like angry spirits, they had held. But they still remembered, there were still things that had stayed the same after all these years. Like crossing this bridge with its secretive whispering stream. It seemed shorter now, less strides to cross. Had it really been that long?

The stables still stood. But then, why wouldn’t they? It was rich, belonged to some nobleman’s family. The one time Gryps had seen him, that man had not even spared him a second glance. Perhaps he thought that the little Child of Air was nothing more than a beggar? Never mind the white finery and white-gold jewellery. See only what you think you see.

They had come here only once. Before Ari made himself known and caused them both to be locked away from the rest of the world. But Ari had been watching, knew this place existed. Remembered touching their first horse here, that dusty warmth that somehow tasted like a home they could never quite recall. He remembered Gryps falling back on his little bottom too, when the horse had shoved its long head forward, eager for a scratch behind the ears, and knocked the unsuspecting youth over. How Ari had laughed. And Gryps had thought it was just his imagination back then, that sweet laughter that had delighted in his fall.

It was easy enough to slip into, these stables from a childhood long passed. It was night, and the stables closed. The stable boys were probably asleep, somewhere up in the loft, oblivious to the youth that walked through their moonlit stalls below.

Well fed and blanketed horses paid him little mind as he walked between them, touching with sensitive fingers to those who poked their heads out to see their silent visitor. The last stall made Ari pause, stopping in mid stride to peer over the half-door.

White. Pure, untainted white, with silver threaded through the short mane and flicking tail. Curled up in the corner, with her ungainly legs tucked awkwardly underneath.

Ari wasn’t sure when he’d developed an attachment towards foals. But somewhere along the lines, he’d likened them to Gryps somehow. Overly cute and in need of protection. And possibly the way the so often fell over. A smirk passed over Ari’s lips.

He wanted this foal. Just because.

With a spell of air, Ari landed silently up in the loft, hair settling around him gently like a curtain of feathers.

The boy didn’t know what descended upon him, whether it was dream or reality. Just that there was suddenly a pair of grinning silver eyes mere inches away from his own, and a soft scentless breath brushing against his lips.

“Are you going to scream? And show your friends how cowardly you are?” Ari asked, nimble finger playing with a short lock of hair that obscured the boy’s wide frightened eyes. The boy tried to shake his head, but managed only a tremble. Ari gave another smirk. “I just want to know… that white foal… where is her dam?”

The stableboy shook his head, finally managing some movement. “I… I don’t know. Think it d-died…!”

Ari raised an elegant eyebrow. “Really? Well, how connivent. I’ll take her off your hands then, will I? And you can go back to your peaceful sleep and pretend I was just some figment of your dull imagination.”

The boy’s eyes widened further, and a desperate grubby hand clung to Ari’s sleeve as he rose to leave. “No! You can’t take it!”

The Griffin of the Dark flared, a beast that was content to play now longing to bite that defiling hand off his sacred vessel. The stable hand seemed to notice, and snatched his hand back as if bitten, holding it close to his chest.

“And pray tell me… why not?” Ari asked softly, no longer smiles. How quickly he’d grown tired of playing. He really wanted to spill this boy’s blood. No filthy mortal ought to live after touching what was his.

“It… it’s a gift. For the P-Princess’ birthday…! I’ll be beaten if it goes missing. Please!” The boy looked on the verge of crying. Chewing his bottom lip, eyes wide and pleading. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

If I did the same, would you think so?

Ari narrowed his eyes, glaring inward towards his own soul. Conscience and unwilling lover, apathetically watching this sad little moonlit scene.

Of course he wouldn’t. Were it Gryps, he would be beside him in a second, pressing kisses to those eyelids so that tears would never fall, and embracing him with protective arms.

Anger flared. Anger at the teasing image, a dream that could never be reality.

Leave it, Ari.

The God of Air sneered, turning his back on the stable boy. “I am the God of Air. A beating would have been the least of your worries if it weren’t for my damned other half. Quit your crying. I won’t take the foal on your watch.” The sneer turned into an unpleasant smile. “I’ll steal it from the Princess instead.”

Wet ripping filled the air, followed by the staccato of blood hitting the wooden boards and splattering on the boy.

Ari laughed. “Don’t go getting scarred for life now, will you?” More strings of blood flew from the silvery grey wings as Ari snapped them open, and with a final sadistic smile, the God of Air vanished from the stable window.

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They didn’t clean him. Didn’t peel away the burnt remains of the outfit Yuu had made for him. Didn’t give him anything but those cold iron chains and shackles that bit into his wrists and ankles, made it almost impossible for him swallow.

How had it come to be this way? A God, dangling two inches from the ground like some common cut-throat thief to be flogged and then hanged.

At least they’re not hanging you by your neck…

Phoenix almost laughed at his traitorous thoughts. And by his wrists were any better? He felt numb. Like he would never be able to use his hands again. His shoulders ached, and his back screamed murder.

If he let his thoughts run, they would turn to Aether. Scream why why why are you doing this, you bastard? But he knew already. Was denying ownership such a bad thing?

Glazed red eyes flickered at the sound of key griding against metal. Heavy rusted clunks of the lock being moved sawed against Phoenix’s ears, the occasional screech retching him from his half-conscious daze.

He did look like a god. Really, he did. All golden and perfect and ever so fine. Pretty, beautiful… why, he even glowed dressed in his ever constant black. Or perhaps that was just his eyes playing tricks with the firelight. Absentminded, disjointed thoughts, these, as his eyes followed Aether as he walked around the room, lighting the torches mounted with iron on the rough stone walls.

Phoenix’s eyes dipped, noticing the long, deeply lacquered wooden case Aether carried under one arm.

“Another deal, Aether?” Phoenix asked before the thoughts had even formed in his head. Couldn’t help it. The taunting, the mocking. Even though his voice sounded like shit, barely audible with that unyielding metal tight against his throat. “What is it this time? A pretty collar with a leash and chain?”

The God of Soul finished lighting the last of the torches, and placed the original back in its sconce. “No, no deal,” Aether said softly, any trace of anger gone, hidden so completely it sounded almost pleasant.

It sent a shiver down Phoenix’s aching back. “Then what?”

Aether smiled, lovingly placing the case down on the bare stone-slabbed floor and trailing a slender hand over its smooth reflective surface. “This? A gift. From my priests. I believe their words were, ‘use it as you see fit, Lord Aether.’ Can you guess what’s inside, my Phoenix?”

The God of Fire swallowed. Or tried to. Something told him he did not want to see what laid inside that case.

Amethyst gazed up at him through lowered ashen lashes. “They gave me this for you, Phoenix. For you and only you. They saw our ‘relationship,’ and thought discipline was in order, perhaps?”

How could words make your heart beat faster? Be slow and near dead one moment, and pounding the next, shortening your breath when not even a finger had been laid upon you.

“Don’t you want to see?” Pretty, mocking smile. Hated him, taking pleasure in pain and hurt. His pain and hurt.

“Even if I said no, you’d still show me.” Disgusted, hateful whisper.

Laughter, echoing around the stone walls. “I might have blindfolded you… then you wouldn’t have seen.” Voice caressing, raising the hairs on the back of Phoenix’s neck. “But I want you to see, Phoenix. I want you to see what they gave me. I want you to see what the priests consented to be used on you… what they wanted to be done to you. I want you to see, and know without a doubt, that there isn’t a single mortal who would save you or accept you… and that I am the only one who can end this torment your find yourself wallowing in.”

He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t, wouldn’t. Even though the mere sight of Aether’s fingers lifting the latch sent a flurry of fear swirling into the pit of his stomach.

And then the lid was tugged open, like a lover easing loose the buckle from another’s belt, and the contents laid to bare.

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End 069

Continued in 070