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"Duo's Salvation "Written By: Jewel of Hell Disclaimer: Don't own nothin' but these words Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Gratuitous violence, abuse, torture, language, yaoi, lemon, angels, demons, bigotry, hypocrisy, blasphemy, heresy, sacrilege, and general religion-bashing. THIS IS NOT A STORY FOR THE CLOSE-MINDED. Pairings: 1x2, others Summary: When the Prince of Hell is captured and taken to Heaven, it is up to the Prince of Heaven to save him. But what if he believes Duo is already being saved?
"Duo's Salvation "
God created the mortal world Candora. Eons and eons ago, He created Candora from his celestial realm, the place he could watch over the young people of the world. Humans, elves, nymphs, and many other races called Candora home. There existed a tranquil peace, a time of sublime being, a time of learning and growing. The people all sought to better themselves, and they all loved God. And God loved them, with all His tremendous capacity to love. Love, after all, was the essence of His being. He loved them so much that when it came time to leave Candora, He created powerful beings in His own image to guard Candora's people. He called them 'anguhela,' which meant 'guardian' in the tongue of the ancients. Eventually the name was simplified to angel, which they were known by to this day. Angels guarded Candora with God's gentle benevolence. They punished the wicked and rewarded the good. Over time, however, some angels began to sympathize with the wicked. They turned their backs on God and His love, and left the celestial realm. Out of darkness they forged their own world, a place that became known as Hell. These angels became the first demons, and their wings turned as black as their souls. Duo listened as Oraia, the so-called Bright Lady, blathered on about all this. She seemed to truly believe it, too. Lying on his stomach on the uncomfortable cot she called a bed, chin resting in his hands, he stared into her eyes. They were bright with fanatic zeal, an enthusiasm for her self-ordained task of 'saving the evil demon from himself.' Duo rolled his eyes. Angels were all the same. His apparent scorn didn't go unnoticed, either. Oraia leveled him with that cold stare down her long nose at him she did so well. He couldn't stand the condescension. She believed she was better than him. It was obvious. "Don't mock the truth, boy," she warned, "or I will punish you again." Giving her a cold stare of his own, Duo didn't goad her. The 'punishment' he'd received yesterday for supposedly mocking the truth had been more akin to torture. It was still fresh in his mind, so he held his peace. Listening to her like this was boring as hell—no pun intended—but it wasn't painful. She would eventually get to the point where his disinterest persuaded her he was beyond saving. She seemed satisfied with his silence. Perhaps she chose to take it as acceptance or even obedience. Whatever. Let her. This was his fourth day here listening to her little history lessons, listening to her tell him that demons were evil, loathsome creatures whose debauched lifestyles was pushing them farther and farther from God's grace. And the strange part was, she couldn't really have it more wrong. Duo was a demon, and while demons preferred black to white and lingered in darkness rather than light, he couldn't classify them as 'evil.' Just as night had its place after day, the only difference between them was . . . they were different. Demons did not ensnare innocent souls and use them in hideous, barbaric rituals. Demons weren't any more hedonistic than the next immortal creature. And Oraia never asked him if her assumptions were correct. She was so caught up in her self-righteous fervor, she never paused to ask him if any of it were true. Duo wasn't stupid, though. He sincerely doubted she would believe him if he told her it was all falsehood and gross stereotyping. Demons had no more turned their backs on God than angels. They just had a different set of beliefs. That was all. Rolling onto his back, Duo folded his hands behind his head. "Why do you think some angels decided to just leave God?" he interrupted her. "I mean, if someone has a really good thing, what could just make them decide it's not good anymore?" It was the first question he'd asked her since her lecturing began, and she looked momentarily surprised he was involving himself. Only momentarily. She frowned. "I hope you are not assuming I could even begin to think like a demon," she said a bit frostily. "Why don't you look inside your own heart for the answer? Assuming you could even find it." Duo rolled his eyes. "I'm not that old, Bright Lady. It's not exactly my fault I was born a demon. Don't you even have some guesses?" "Demons are evil, self-serving creatures without compassion or moral compunction," she said, voice at once patient and yet hard. "Evil cannot exist in the presence of light, and God is the essence of light and purity." "Love," Duo corrected her, sitting up now. "You just told me not ten minutes ago that God is the essence of love." "What difference does it make?" she countered, her voice creeping toward ice. "Love, light, purity, they are synonymous." "Demons were angels once," Duo veered the conversation back, "by your own admission. If that's true, then what you're saying is angels have the capacity in them to be 'evil' and without compassion or moral compunction. That makes us the same." And there it was again, that look in her eye that told him she had lost her temper, that he had driven her to critical mass. Her face didn't change, but suddenly he was in excruciating pain. Again. Just like before. It felt like spikes were being pounded into his skull while a giant fist crushed his body. The blood in his veins burned like acid, every muscle twisting with spasms that he felt would break him. "You're making this far more difficult on yourself than it has to be," Oraia said in a deceptively mild voice. "The moment you admit to your evil, we can bring your soul back into the light. It is God's will." And she left, leaving him writhing on the floor. Duo's body contorted, curling into the fetal position as he tried once more to control the pain wracking his body. Reaching into the sky and capturing the sun might have been more feasible. How long would she leave him like this, this time? Maybe being the Prince of Hell had afforded him a comfortable life, because he'd never before felt pain. Of any kind, let alone pain like this. Gritting his teeth, he stubbornly refused to cry out. He would not give in. He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him beaten. All the pain in the world could not make him admit to something that was not true. That thought gave him a haven, an anchoring place that helped him deal with the pain. It did not diminish it—nothing could do that. But he could bear it now.
Heaven was a vast, endless place, a realm of sublime beauty and infinite peace. Right now, however, none of this affected the Prince of Heaven. The observing eye would have agreed that he fit right in, here. Golden-skinned and lean, he had eyes as blue as cobalt glass, gleaming and keen. Right now, however, those eyes were clouded and dark. "How could Father have allowed this?" he asked, his tone too mellow for a demand. The Queen of Heaven looked at her son. "He believes it is our only recourse at this point, Heero," she said quietly. Heero shook his head, causing a lock of his dark hair to fall across his eyes. "And he resorted to trickery to accomplish it?" he challenged. "Demons may be evil, but they trusted us. And we descended just as low as them by betraying that trust. We're angels, Mother. We don't lie, and we don't deceive." Her eyes were troubled. "What choice did he have, my lamb? A demon never would have willingly come to Heaven to listen to us." "That doesn't make it right," Heero insisted. "Father wouldn't have hidden it from me if he believed this was truly the right thing to do." "Perhaps not," she said, "but sometimes we must sacrifice the things we believe in for the greater good. It may be the wrong decision, Heero, but it was for the right reason." "And the fact that you feel the need to justify it makes it even more wrong," Heero said, feeling cold inside. He may agree that demons were evil and their way of life was wrong. That didn't give angels the right to trick, deceive, and lie to them for their own goals. Turning from her, Heero left her room. She called after him, but he ignored her. It didn't take long before he found the one he was looking for. Oraia was in her study, reading. Studying literature and history was her greatest passion, her personal quest. She claimed it would bring not only her but all angels that much closer to God, to understanding Him and becoming one with Him. "Do you have a minute?" he asked, rapping his knuckles once against the doorframe. Oraia blinked owlishly, raising her eyes to meet his. "Heero," she said, setting her book down. "Of course. Come in." Heero walked in and declined to sit. "I had a question my mother couldn't answer, so I would like to know if you can." His voice made it clear this was not a request, it was a demand. She folded her hands in her lap. "Anything," she replied. "Why did you decide it would be all right to go to Hell under the pretense of truce, and while the demons were trusting us kidnap the Prince of Hell?" Oraia blinked again, this time looking genuinely surprised. "I'm surprised you, of all angels, could not understand my reasoning," she said, and she sounded sincere. "Heero, demons are without moral or scruple. What other choice is there?" "By virtue of that it makes this right?" Heero snapped. "That's backward logic, and it flies in the face of everything we stand for! It's the same as preaching that demons are evil, and yet we ourselves are doing the same things we condemn them for doing! How is that right? How is it right that we descend to their level just because they are evil?" Oraia's expression hardened. "This and that could not be more different," she said coldly. "They are not," Heero challenged. "Two wrongs do not make a right." Now she said nothing, merely looking at him. Heero held her gaze evenly, not intimidated by her stare. And it was a somewhat formidable one. After all, the Bright Lady of Heaven was known for it. She appeared to have no will to speak, so Heero went on. "What chance do you think we will have now of bringing demons back to Heaven?" he asked in a quiet voice. "And what will you do if you can't convince the Prince that his way is wrong?" Now she stirred. "He will be dealt with then," she said. Heero glared at her. "What's that supposed to mean? You'll risk another open war with Hell? It has been one-hundred years since the last true battle, and the mortal world was finally settling into real peace. For what, Oraia? For what?" "Any victory of Heaven over Hell is worth it," she said dismissively. Heero's eyes burned. "You sound just like them. Can't you see that? You sound just like a demon, Oraia." Slowly she rose from her chair, a pale white-gold nimbus surrounding her. "Leave me, Heero," she said in a voice as cold as her eyes. "I cannot challenge you, for you are the king's son. But nor do I have to tolerate your disrespect." Cobalt blue eyes clashed with slate gray. Finally, Heero whirled and left her presence. This was wrong. This was all so wrong. How could angels have come to this? They were supposed to be the champions of God, not deceivers and liars. He knew for a fact God never would have condoned such an action were He still here. And yet . . . what could he do about it? He eventually
decided to find his father and beg him to see reason. That may be
his only option at this point.
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