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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 "
Duo bit his finger and drew another mark on the white wall in his blood. The contrast was incredibly stark, immediately drawing the eye. He hated this room. He hated this place. He hated Oraia. She had told him several times not to mar the room's perfection by drawing lines of blood. He did it partly to annoy her, partly to mark how much time had passed since his capture, and partly to add interest to an otherwise horribly boring room. If he ever got back to Hell, he would never tolerate even a hint of white as long as he lived. The marks were slowly taking the shape of a pentacle. It was no accident that symbol had come to be associated with the devil. A symbol that had once symbolized peace and harmony now epitomized evil. Duo felt his lip curling in a sneer and couldn't stop it. He dug his teeth deeper into his finger for more blood and continued his somewhat macabre diagram. He made it bigger, something—anything —to fill the emptiness. Was all of Heaven so empty? Growling low in his throat, he gathered all his impressive power to him. When Oraia came back to continue her preaching, she would be in for a surprise! He didn't care whether he could beat her or not. Under normal circumstances he was sure he could, but here in Heaven? All he wanted was to see her unruffled, to see that veneer of ice crack and splinter. To see some semblance of life, to know she wasn't a heartless stone. He was nearly finished with his pentacle when she entered the room. "Didn't I tell you not to defile these sacred walls with your blaspheming, Duo?" she said in that empty voice of hers. She fit right in here. She was as empty as Heaven. Whirling, he flung every ounce of power he could summon into his attack. Had they been in Hell, she would have been crushed like a bug. Here in Heaven, however, she managed to deflect an alarmingly large portion of it. The crimson nimbus surrounding him flared brilliantly, and an instant later she was surrounded by white-gold. "Insolent wretch," she said, the ice cracking in her eyes to reveal the first hint of heat. "I can see you will not bend in your evil ways. Very well. You leave me no other alternative. As of this day, Duo, you are no longer my welcome guest. I will make you admit your evil and drive it out of you if it's the last thing I do!" There, there was some real heat. Her voice never raised, but her words were impassioned. Duo didn't like them much, though. In fact he felt a tremor down to the depths of his soul. Truly frightened of what she meant, of what she planned to do to him now. She cut into his hold on his power, and because this was Heaven, she managed it. The angry red flickered and went out, and moments later he was once more awash with pain. Duo staggered backward. His back hit the wall and he slid down, smearing the bright red. It took all the willpower he possessed to make his lips curve into a smile. At least, a rigid parody of one. "Is this . . . an act . . . of love, Oraia?" he gasped out. "I should h-have thought . . . of it sooner . . . torturing people t' save them—" Then he could manage no more. Whatever Oraia was doing, she made it worse. Much worse. Duo ground his teeth together in an effort not to cry out. He would not give her that satisfaction. He could not stop the low groans, though, his body bowing forward as though it could block out the pain by curling in on itself. "This will save you, Duo," Oraia said. "One day, when you have seen the error of your ways and repented, you will thank me. You will thank me when you once again walk in the light of God." Duo forced himself to sit up, to look her in the eye. He couldn't stand, but he twisted his pained grimace into another grin. "Like . . . hell I will, you bitch," he spat. That made the ice crack wide open. Anger swept in, though she rigidly controlled it. Pity, Duo thought, because he would have liked to see her start screeching and yelling like a ten-year-old pitching a fit. That was his last coherent thought for a long, long time.
Heero glared across the peaceful expanse of Heaven. He felt worn out and utterly let down. He'd been defeated at every turn, shot down by everyone. Even the other angels he talked to seemed to feel Oraia's self-imposed mission of salvation was a right one. He didn't know whether that made him more angry or sad. And he still didn't know what to do about it. It had been seven days since Oraia brought the Prince of Hell to Heaven, and he knew the demons were getting angry and upset. Who could blame them? They'd been tricked and betrayed. By the very ones they could supposedly trust to the end. Hissing through his teeth, Heero rose from his graceful sprawl. Yesterday, Oraia had moved the prince from an isolation chamber to a different room. She refused entry to all, though none had actually asked her to enter. Heero did not intend to ask. He knew she was in deep conference right now with his parents and several other angels, all trying to decide what to do about Hell. Very sloppy, considering it was their fault they were in this position. Heero descended to the deepest layers of Heaven, a place where lost souls were kept, a place where the wicked could repent. A place most angels didn't go, a place most angels weren't allowed to go. There was a place tightly warded and shielded. Heero approached it and touched the faintly glowing ward. It served the dual purpose of keeping angels out and keeping a demon in. Oraia's power couldn't be rivaled by most of the angels in Heaven. Heero was one of those select few who could challenge her. This ward was sealed off, meaning she wasn't actively holding it in place right now. He could slip inside without alerting her. So that was exactly what he did. He created a small rift in the space of her ward and squeezed through. Many different smells accosted him, but the first and strongest was the unmistakable scent of blood. Heero nearly recoiled, glancing around in alarm. There couldn't be a good reason for that smell— Heero stopped dead, feeling like he'd swallowed his heart. Oraia had from somewhere procured a plain wooden cross. In a sickening twist she had tied the Prince of Hell to it. It wasn't rope holding him to the cross, though. It was threads of power, and they were designed for one thing and one thing only. To cause pain. Heero could see protruding spikes of power from each thread, and those spikes dug into the prince's skin. Long ribbons of blood streamed down that thin, pale body, which was completely naked. Heero had to force himself to breathe. The bowed head raised, and indigo-violet eyes met his. The surfaces were dull with pain. Cracked lips still spread in a scornful smile. "Another zealot come to convince the evil one of his wicked ways?" the Prince of Hell spat. Heero shook his head slightly. "No," he said after a moment. "I'm not exactly sure why I came here." The prince laughed, a horribly choked sound. "Let me guess. You never seen a demon before, and you wanted to witness firsthand Oraia's incredible work." The way he said Oraia made it sound like the blackest oath. "No," Heero said again. "I don't believe in Oraia's 'work' as you call it. I think what she did was wrong." Those eyes stared into his for a time. "That's so comforting," the demon sneered. "I bet you wouldn't have slept well tonight without getting that load off your chest." "I'm serious," Heero said softly. The demon made as if to lunge at him, straining against his bonds. "Then get these damn things off me and let me go back to Hell!" he snarled. "I don't ever want to see one of you self-righteous, fucking hypocritical bigots again as long as I live!" Though Heero didn't approve of the language, he actually found himself sorely tempted to do just that. These threads, however, he couldn't break. Oraia was holding onto them herself, they were not sealed off. Breaking them would alert her, and she would probably bring the whole war council with her. "I can't," he said, shaking his head in apology. The Prince of Hell made a rude sound. "Won't, you mean." Heero hesitated. "What's your name?" he finally asked. Those eyes raised to meet his again. A long pause followed his query. "Duo," he finally said. "Yours?" Asked in that tone, Heero got the feeling the demon didn't care. At all. He answered anyway. "Heero. Would you like some water, Duo?" "For a shower?" the demon said, his dry lips curving into something closer to a real smile. "That would be great. Bring some soap, too." Heero couldn't help it and smiled a little. "I'll bring you something to drink." Before he left the ward he paused and looked over his shoulder. "I will try to get you out, Duo. I swear." The eyes that peered into his were far from convinced, and it was blatantly obvious. "Thought angels didn't swear," was all he said. Heero exited the ward. What was Oraia thinking? Did she truly believe she was doing the right thing? That young demon didn't look evil. Not at all. He just looked . . . different. That was all. Closing his eyes, wishing he didn't feel so confused, he decided he would talk more with Duo. Ask him a few questions, see if he could figure out why Heaven and Hell had come to this. And, if there were any possible, find a solution. o0o 0o0 Duo watched the young angel slip past Oraia's ward. It was a strong one, so that angel had to be strong, too. Stronger than her. At that age, probably very close to Duo's, he could be only one. The Prince of Heaven. And wasn't that an odd thing? The Prince of Heaven coming to him to tell him he didn't agree with his Bright Lady's methods of converting a sinner to the fold? Duo didn't know whether to believe him or not. It would be nice if Heero meant it, because then maybe he could convince him to help him escape this God-awful place. There was something intrinsically different about Heero. A way he held himself that was so different from Oraia it was almost jarring. And that look in Heero's eyes had been so accepting and gentle. No scorn, no fear, no horror, nothing of the sort. Just sympathy and . . . compassion. Something he'd long thought angels were without. Dropping his head to his chest, Duo groaned when the movement caused pain to flare up in his body. These little spiked threads hurt down to his core, dug into every place within him, making it impossible to ignore the pain or drown it out. Every so often they would burrow deeper or twist, causing new rivulets of blood to stream down his skin. Normally such superficial injuries healed quickly. These threads, however, kept his body from doing so. Damn it. There was not a demon in Hell as cruel or vindictive as Oraia, the so-called Bright Lady of Heaven. Duo hated her. Even the Queen of Hell, sometimes called Tovala the Cruel, was not as vicious and spiteful. Tovala, Duo's mother, at least had a sense of humor. A rather morbid one, true, but . . . "Bring me some water soon, Heero," he whispered,
eyes closing. The Prince of Heaven, at least, had provided a momentary
distraction from the ceaseless pain.
tbc |
