FIC: This Isn't Heaven (But It's Close Enough) Chapter 1 (Rated: R)
Title: This Isn't Heaven (But It's Close Enough)
Pairing(s): It's probably going to be any and all combinations of Angeal, Genesis, Sephiroth, Zack, and Cloud. You'll understand what I mean in a while.
Warnings: Character death...kind of, Cloud being forced to do...something unpleasant
AN: This bugger has been driving me insane for awhile. I don't really know where it spawned from. Maybe from reading too many greek legends.
The gods demand a sacrifice.
The head priest twisted his way through the barracks, the home of the slaves. The sad, thin people cowered in fear, silently hoping they wouldn’t be chosen. The man halted, holding up a hand to gesture to the guards wandering the area. A blond boy, blue eyes averted in the hopes that wouldn’t be noticed, was snatched up. He struggled, earning himself a smack to the face for his troubles.
The priest examined the pitiful form in front of him. “What is his name?”
“Cloud Strife, my lord.” The priest forcefully grabbed the boy’s chin, titling the face to get a better look. This Cloud was good looking, even with the dirt and bruises covering his pale skin. The priest nodded once.
“He will do.”
Cloud breathed slowly, feeling strangely unafraid. The sun shone through the slats of his cell. It was a beautiful day outside, betraying the bloody act that would happen later that day. His blood would be spilled in the hopes that the gods would spare this civilization. But, the blond didn’t feel a sense of panic. In fact, he felt quite the opposite. It was like there was comforting presence there, wrapping him up in blanket of calm. It was comforting, giving him the strong feeling that everything was going to be okay. There was a sound, then the door swung open.
“It’s time.”
Cloud was forcibly led through the streets by his bound wrists. People gathered to view the unfortunate soul who was this month’s victim. The priests had gathered on a raised platform that was decorated with strange symbols. The teen was pulled up the steps. He stood, eyes fixed on the ground. The ritual commenced, the priests began chanting a strange, guttural language. Now Cloud was starting to become afraid. He didn’t want to die like this. Didn’t want his life to end in a bizarre ceremony to appease a god he didn’t worship. He shifted slightly. The guard standing behind him gripped his forearms in an attempt to stop him from making an escape attempt. The head priest turned to Cloud.
“On your knees.” Cloud was shoved onto his knees. The blond started to tremble. He had been forced to do this, among other things, to one of the foremen who supervised his work. The ritual called for the sending of a soul to the god’s realm. The momentary blankness that came from an orgasm was a glimpse into that realm. The priests believed that the death of their sacrifice at this moment would ensure the entrance of the soul. The man gently carded Cloud’s hair. “Don’t be afraid. Just do as I say.” His voice was silky, cruel. “This will all be over soon.” Cloud opened his mouth when instructed.
The act was quick and brutal. Cloud gagged as tears leaked out of his eyes. The obscene moans rose in crescendo above his head. He nearly hyperventilated when a knife was placed to his throat by an unseen person. At the same time the priest reached completion, Cloud’s throat was cut.
The crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief. Once again, their lives were spared.