Saint Seiya [FIC] Rhadamanthys x Kanon - " Into the Abyss" - chapter 5
I posted the new chapter on my LJ last night, but I was too tired to do anything else. ^^;
Here I am now to post it here too. :3
Rating : NC17 in further chapters.
Warning : Naturally, there are quite some spoilers about the Hades arc. ^^;
Mini-Summary : Rhadamanthys and Kanon finally meet again! *0*/
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FIC : Into the Abyss
Author : Sagakure
Fandom : Saint Seiya (Knights of the Zodiac, Cavaleiros do Zodiaco, Caballeros del Zodiaco, Chevaliers du Zodiaque).
Pairing : Rhadamanthys x Kanon (also, Saga x Kanon; also everybody x Saga).
Rating : NC17 (For angst, mature content, and possibly bondage/bdsm. Don’t read if it’s not your cup of tea).
Warnings : Set post-Hades war. Kanon survived. (See chapter one).
Disclaimer : I do not own Saint Seiya. Saint Seiya is (C) of Masami Kurumada, Toei, Shueisha, Akita Shoten and quite probably some more people. No copyright infringement or disrespect intended here. This is a work of fanfiction, done completely for fun. No profit is taken out of it.
Thanks : To Dani, for being a wonderful beta! :D
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Past the ice fields of the Cocytus, spread over the three first spheres on the way to Giudecca, lay the great cities of the north-west, where the higher rank specters dwell.
Kanon never made it that far the previous time… Even this time, he wouldn’t have been able to come that far if they didn’t take a boat to the valley of agony, which was itself not that far from the ice pits and the great waterfall of blood. The three specters had been useful, after all.
But the reason why nobody would expect him to be wandering in that area was precisely because it was such a well guarded place that trying to sneak into it was suicide.
Suicide wasn’t any new to him, though.
For years, he had yearned for death to free him from his miserable existence. And now that he had almost succeeded and died, it strangely felt as if it was an unwelcome feeling after all. It puzzled Kanon, but he shrugged the thoughts away. It was too late for this.
He was tired of running away. All his life, he had been running away from himself, and from his destiny. It was perhaps finally time to embrace it.
He thought he had finally accepted it when he came back to Sanctuary and put on the Gemini armor, but he was wrong. He still had hope then. Hope that he’d be free once he was done for and they didn’t need him anymore. He was wrong.
He was never but a shadow with no right to freedom.
It was time to prove that even as a shadow, he could still have some utility.
He shook the veil of tears off his eyes, and marched with decided steps towards the city, the beginning of his plan unfolding in his head.
*** * *** * ***
[Into The Abyss - Scene V] - “Hope or Despair?”
After a while walking without interruption, the human body starts to do its best at trying to convince the brain that it cannot take it any longer and will collapse anytime. Part of a saint’s training focuses on learning to ignore or manage those warnings. Because if you push it far enough, there are always more reserves. And when you truly run out of energy and pass out, your cosmo will back you up.
After a whole night and day walking non-stop again, Kanon could feel that truth in every muscle of his extenuated body. He did his best to focus on concealing his cosmo as much as possible, while sneaking from sides of cliffs to rocky formations, through the darkest paths and along the very edges of each sphere. It had taken him hours and hours, but he could finally see the first buildings of Tolomea, now that he was past Antenora and its great dome. He didn’t dare walking into the streets yet, instead keeping on the outskirts of the built areas. Most mansions had land around them, and were large as well as far apart from each other. This was after all the area inhabited by the most powerful specters, and all was arranged so that the core of it would be more similar to the human world, and more pleasant to the eye than most areas of the Underworld.
He decided to wait until the night to sneak into the city. In the meantime, he hid and kept an eye on the border, trying to get a better idea of how often the specter patrols passed.
A shiver ran through his body, and a wave of disgust reminded him of what he was about to do in a few hours. He realized that for once, he was genuinely scared, but there was no turning back now. He had considered carefully every single idea he had, and none of the others would work. There was no other way. Alone, he couldn’t do anything for Saga. To be more exact, alone or not, he couldn’t do anything himself. And the constant feeling of utter powerlessness wouldn’t leave him alone, making sure he wouldn’t forget that he couldn’t help them in any way, especially Saga.
The only chance, as tiny as it might be, the very only last hope, resided in the possibility of getting someone to help… someone who actually could make a difference.
He went once again over the little things that combined together had caused the idea to spark in his mind. The look in Rhadamanthys eyes a few times when they fought, the worry in the judge’s voice when Minos broke his hand or when he was attacked, the way the judge reacted when he tried to kill himself to take them both out, and especially, the words Rhadamanthys had whispered just before Kanon lost consciousness completely…
“I wish we could have met in a time or a world with no wars, and where I would have been able to touch your body without trying to hurt you.”
It wasn’t much, but, Kanon was used to subtleties, and he was sure that he had felt something in the judge’s cosmo, when his fingers touched the gold saint's hips just before he fell unconscious… something strange, unexpected, and that the other wanted to hide form him.
Desire.
Barely concealed lust.
He didn’t want to believe, at first, but little by little, all those little things came together in his mind like a puzzle, and he realized it was his best chance.
He really hoped he was right. Although a tiny part of him hoped that he was wrong, that the specter didn’t actually desire him in the least, but he quickly silenced that little voice. He had no choice.
The other wanderers and servants that he met on his way there -- and that he questioned about the charges the specters filed against the gold saints and the sentences that could possibly ensue -- all confirmed the version of the group of specters from the previous night.
Either his plan would work and he’d be able to help Saga, at least a bit, or it would fail and he’d be at Rhadamanthys mercy. There was no way he could fight the judge in that state, so it was a dangerous bet. But considering that it was his very only chance, he didn’t mind taking the risk.
After all, even if the chance of success was ridiculously low, it had to be tried. And if he failed, at least he’d share the fate of his comrades. Maybe he’d even be able to see Saga.
With all the energy of his despair and loss, he hoped that it would work and the judge would accept his proposition. Even if that meant that he would be completely lost. It didn’t matter, now that he had taken his decision. It was futile to continue keeping hopes for himself, as his whole life seemed to have proved so well. If he was really to be nothing more than a shadow, then he’d go with it all the way, and perform his task as he was expected.
There was no reason to dwell on what could have been, now that the path was clear before him.
But if that was the case, then why did the tears refuse to stop running down his face? He hugged himself and let go, burying his face on his knees and sobbing silently, huddled up against the rock.
For all his broken hopes, and all the ones he knew he wasn’t allowed to have anymore.
*** * ***
Empty eyes stared into nothingness.
The hand came down in a swift movement, slapping him across the face hard yet another time. But he didn’t move. He didn’t even make a sound. He was used to humiliation, and if they wanted to hurt him, they were going to have to do better than this or the earlier whipping.
The specter sighed in frustration and turned around for a second, as if making up his mind to leave. Instead, he spun around fast, and slammed his fist as hard as he could against the Gemini saint’s jaw, making the chair tumble to the side and fall with a loud noise.
Still tied tightly to the chair, Saga was as silent as ever, his head tilted lightly to the side and his eyes locked on a point on the wall. Blood trickled down his chin, uncared for. The man crouched by his face and seized him by the chin. No reaction. Just the same cold and empty stare. The gold saint’s behavior was giving the specter urges to gouge his eyes out.
“You find it very funny, don’t you? We’ll see how long you’ll keep this resistance up when Lord Minos arrives. His patience is not nearly as great as ours, and his arguments are also much more convincing…”
The name rang a familiar tone in Saga’s ear, and not a pleasant one. He didn’t get to meet Minos before, but he heard things of him. Things far from being reassuring.
But it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t speak. He would never speak.
The man stood up and kicked him hard in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him for a moment. By the time he got his breath back, the specter had left, leaving him in the dark, still tied to the chair fallen in the ground.
For the first time in hours, Saga allowed himself to let out a whimper, now that nobody could hear it. He’d better sleep. That body tired terribly fast, and he’d need the energy for later.
Laying his face down in the mass of blue hair spilled on the tiled ground, Saga closed his eyes and ignored the cold and the discomfort of the rope biting into his skin streaked with lash marks.
He was well used to humiliation, having spent a good thirteen years of his life prisoner of his own living nightmare. If they wanted to hurt him, they were going to have to do a lot better than this.
But he had no doubts that they would try their very best.
*** * ***
Night had fallen about one hour ago, and things were looking as peaceful as they could look in hell.
A cloaked shadow dashed from an alleyway to another, passing behind the domestic dependencies of the mansions, and sliding along the tall walls that encircled most residences. The smell of food would occasionally catch his attention as a painful reminder of his hunger, but he didn't stop.
From time to time, he’d cross another scared creature in the shadows. Homeless people, perhaps? Was there such a thing in that city?
He had assumed all wanderers were kept out of the cities, but then again maybe the guards only worried when roaming dead and such tried to enter? The poor wretched beings that cowered in the obscurity and tried to conceal themselves behind the darkest corners of the streets were as human as him, and could pass for anything but a treat.
Maybe former servants of the specters? Or rejects of yet another category of that society that he didn’t see before? There was a lot about the underworld that he still didn’t know or understand.
He stopped another time to catch his breath, leaning on the wall. Poorly protected by the thin greek sandals he was wearing, Kanon’s feet hurt in the freshly fallen snow. He hit his left foot against the right one and vice-versa, to make the chunks of ice and melting mud fall off, and sighed. His left hand was throbbing in pain. The lack of care in the past days -- added to a few bad falls while hiding from the enemies and the additional damage caused by his wrestling with the fence while lost in the horror of the previous night -- had worsened its condition a lot. He clutched it to his chest, and clenched his teeth. The pain was seeping through the hand all the way into his forearm. Collateral damage of some sort, perhaps? All he hoped for was that it wasn’t an infection.
It wasn’t very far anymore. Soon, he’d know if there was any hope for Saga, or if only despair was left.
He looked down and mentally chastised himself for wondering if there would be any for him. There wasn’t, and it wasn’t necessary that there were any anyway.
But it was just so hard to give up running away when it's all you've done all your life.
The fingers of his good hand pressed into the wounded one and drove a choked whimper out of his lips, the pain spreading like a net of searing light, and successfully taking his mind out of his previous thoughts.
Putting an end to his rest, Kanon started walking again in the direction from which he could perceive a familiar cosmo. Even though he was concealing his own as much as he could, he could perfectly feel the cosmos surrounding him, coming from each of the mansions, the guards in the streets, carriages passing by and such. And somewhere in that direction, he could feel Rhadamanthys’ presence, more and more distinct as he got closer and closer to the source of it.
Stopping suddenly in his tracks, Kanon froze in the middle of the street. He had identified where the feeling was coming from.
Right in front of him, beyond the light poles on the other side of the street, stood a large Victorian architecture mansion, behind a barred gate and tall walls equally decorated in a sober but elegant british style.
So this was how the place that would become his personal hell looked like.
*** * ***
Sitting on a large light-brown leather couch that followed one of the angles of a richly furnished room, Rhadamanthys ran his eyes over yet another piece of paperwork.
One would hope that a place like the underworld would be free of bureaucracy. Far from it. There’s a hell for judges and bureaucrats too, after all.
He sighed and went back to his reading, but couldn’t quite focus in it. He had a strange feeling that started at the beginning of the night and just wouldn’t go away. The re-organization of the Underworld was talking longer than it should, and although he wasn’t required to do so, he was hoping that giving a hand to the paperwork would speed the thing up at least a little bit. It was always better than stay waiting every day.
Minos had found more interesting things to do in the meantime, and Aiakos had a tendency to follow him, but Rhadamanthys felt compelled to do something to be of use. If anything, in hopes that this might take his mind off the problem that had been obsessing him lately.
The fire burning underneath the thick mahogany chimneypiece projected reflections that danced on the ceiling and seemed to give life to the dark wood that covered the lower two-thirds of all walls of the room. Putting the papers down on the glass table just in front of him, the judge rubbed his tired eyes and flexed his shoulders, deciding to take a break. He pulled his tie loose, and let his back sink into the soft cushions of the worn-down couch.
The boredom was killing him, and it was having the very opposite effect than the one he hoped for. His mind must be really playing tricks on him, because he could nearly feel Kanon’s presence in the house.
A knock on the door brought him back from his reverie, and Alphonse, the old butler, slid his head in through the opening of the door, after hearing the judge’s monosyllabic answer allowing him to.
“Milord, many apologies for disturbing you, but we have a problem.”
The problem had apparently snuck in through the domestics’ entrance, where the gate was unlocked, crossed the garden and forced his entry into the mansion through the kitchen. After the two women cleaning the dishes from dinner had taken him for a vagrant or a beggar and failed in stopping him, they fled and called for the butler’s help. After this point, the invader revealed his face, which just so happened to be the very same than that of the man in that morning’s paper. When a panicked Alphonse tried to explain to his master that “that Saga of Gemini” was in their kitchen, Rhadamanthys stared at him as if the old butler had suddenly sprouted a second head.
The judge knew better, and the first thought that crossed his head made him nearly fly down the stairway to the ground floor, storm through the dining hall and into the kitchen dependencies.
“That was fast.”
Rhadamanthys could have recognized that voice among a thousand others.
There, leaning against a chair by the kitchen table, stood his ex-nemesis, playing with a small salt dispenser that he rolled back and forth between his fingers.
A predatory grin on Kanon’s lips gave him the look of a feline about to play cat-&-mouse.
Rhadamanthys wondered if the man had gone insane, or if it was all just a façade to instill courage in himself or perhaps try to impress his adversary. The gold saint did have a tendency to act as much as possible as if everything was always under control, Rhadamanthys remembered, rethinking of the moment when Kanon faced all three judges of the Underworld at once, claiming he could beat them all easily.
The electricity in the air was almost palpable. Frowning in disbelief, the judge assumed a more imposing posture and strode across the space separating the two men. The light behind him projected his shadow over part of Kanon’s face, but he could swear he saw a flicker of fear show on the ex-marina’s features for a second.
“Did you come to surrender, now?!” - There was something in the judge’s voice akin to anger.
It was the same tone his voice had during their last battle, when he saw Kanon give up all his chances, remove the gold Cloth and pull a suicide attack.
“Oh no… I came to offer you something much better than that.” - Kanon’s eyes held a tempting light in them, and yet his voice sounded wrong, almost dead.
They were no more than a foot and a half away, now, and in one swift move, Kanon reached for the judge’s hand. Thinking that the gold saint was about to open the hostilities, Rhadamanthys almost countered with a punch to his head, but his fist stopped in mid air, and he froze when he realized what Kanon was doing.
A light blush over his face, the ex-marina held the judge’s hand open, pressing the palm against his lower belly, and parted his lips slightly, his breath uneven in apprehension. A shiver ran through his body, but he quickly controlled himself, and slid the Rhadamanthys’ hand over his body, leading it to his hip.
Rhadamanthys was mesmerized.
He didn’t understand what Kanon’s intentions were, and yet he couldn’t tear himself out of his fascinated state, as if he was hypnotized by the sight of his hand over that slim waist, the feeling of having Kanon so close to him without the armor to conceal his forms, the warmth of his skin...
“Are you going to judge the fallen gold saints?” - Kanon’s voice was trembling slightly.
“All three of us will. Why?”
“I… I have a proposition for you, Rhadamanthys. All I want is a fair judgment for Saga. All over the Underworld, I heard specters saying how his judgment will be an act of revenge rather than one of justice. All I’m asking for is justice. Real justice, not biased one. And in exchange, I offer you what you’re burning in desire for.” - The blush spread wider over the gold saint’s face, and the unsteadiness of his voice worsened yet a bit, but his words were formed slowly and with apparent calm. There was a poignant desperation in his voice, that he tried in vain to hide, but that showed fully in his eyes.
“What?” - The judge couldn't believed what he just heard.
He must be dreaming. This must be yet another of those daydreams he had lately. Either that, or he was terribly misunderstanding the other man’s words. He realized too late that the fire burning in his eyes when his hand had touched the gold saint’s waist was a little too obvious for someone as used to manipulation as Kanon.
“I can see it… in your eyes. When you look at me. And even more, when you touch me.” - And for further proof, Kanon pressed the other man’s hand tighter against his waist, and crossed the few inches left between them, bringing his face just underneath his former enemy’s. “See?” - He teased, his breath tickling the specter’s chin.
The judge mentally berated himself for having been so obvious. Granted, Kanon was terribly tempting, and the idea that all of his recent fantasies could be fulfilled right away, possibly right over that table, made it all the more diffulcult to resist, but he mustn't allow the saint to see the extent of the effect he could have over him. Letting him know how accurate his assumptions were would give him the advantage, and that, the judge couldn't allow.
Rhadamanthys narrowed his eyes, his gaze hard, determined to see where this was going.
The gold saint continued, slowly - “I could be all yours. If you accept my proposition, I’ll be…yours…to do as you please, anywhere, anytime. I'll belong to you.” - Kanon licked his lips nervously, and the image of those soft, slightly wet lips so close to his face almost drove Rhadamanthys out of his mind for a second. Quickly retaking control over his senses, the judge pulled his hand off his former enemy’s hip, and raised it to touch the man's face with a possessive gesture.
“Hmm…a slave? Would you really be willing to give up your freedom for it? Do you realize that you would belong to me until the very end of times?” - The judge got closer and closer, leaving Kanon no room to back off, until he pinned him against the table, his hand strongly holding the gold saint’s face, at the base of his jaw.
But Kanon couldn’t let intimidation stop him. He had to make sure, and he had to go all the way.
“Do you accept or not?” - Almost letting the bitterness and despair show in his words, the ex-marina couldn’t prevent the shaking in his voice, and for the first time, Rhadamanthys saw fear in that face for sure.
“If I do…. It will be on my terms. I will not tolerate insubmission. Not even the slightest. You are to obey to my every command, and you are to do so instantly.”
The judge continued - “Slaves are a relatively common thing in the Underworld, you know? Especially pleasure slaves. I’m sure you understand what I mean, and what you would have to do.”
Kanon’s face was livid. The judge was still holding his jaw, while running the fingertips of his other hand over the saint’s belly and chest, toying with the holes from the scarlet needle that in his clothes still sported.
“If I accept your deal, you are to be my slave and stay here forever, if I wish so. Are you truly going to give yourself to me completely?”
“Yes…” - The gold saint’s eyes were cast down, a flush of shame mixed with dread covering his face from ear to ear.
“Prove it. On your knees.”
Kanon slid to the ground in a liquid movement, and swallowing his shame, kneeled at the judge’s feet. The humiliation added to all the weariness and worry made him short-breathed.
It was one thing to fight Rhadamanthys, even in that state. Fighting to the death wasn’t something that frightening, considering all that he already lived through.
It was what was about to happen that frightened him. All the unknown and self-abasement that felt so close that he could nearly touch it.
Not to mention the fact that the judge had no reason to act honorably and stick to any agreement. Considering the state of the gold saint, if Rhadamanthys wanted, he could very well have his way with him by force, and then drag him to the camps afterwards. But Kanon had nothing left to do, and he came there assuming that Rhadamanthys was, as he thought, a man of honor. He just hoped that what he had to offer would interest the judge more than a brutal one-night stand.
Lowering his head, Kanon closed his eyes in shame and let go of all that he had left, whispering in an almost inaudible voice. - “Do as you please.”
The rapturous sensation that invaded Rhadamanthys when he heard his former enemy’s words was stronger than any sexual excitement he had felt in years, or perhaps even longer.
Squatting down to put himself at the other’s height, the judge lifted his prey’s chin and smiled hungrily.
“We have a deal, Kanon.”
He couldn’t quite tell if it was joy and hope that he saw in the gold saint’s eyes, or sheer horror.
******
[To Be Continued]
[Next Scene : “Time To Learn Your Place.”]
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Sagakure, January 13th, 2006
Here I am now to post it here too. :3
Rating : NC17 in further chapters.
Warning : Naturally, there are quite some spoilers about the Hades arc. ^^;
Mini-Summary : Rhadamanthys and Kanon finally meet again! *0*/
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FIC : Into the Abyss
Author : Sagakure
Fandom : Saint Seiya (Knights of the Zodiac, Cavaleiros do Zodiaco, Caballeros del Zodiaco, Chevaliers du Zodiaque).
Pairing : Rhadamanthys x Kanon (also, Saga x Kanon; also everybody x Saga).
Rating : NC17 (For angst, mature content, and possibly bondage/bdsm. Don’t read if it’s not your cup of tea).
Warnings : Set post-Hades war. Kanon survived. (See chapter one).
Disclaimer : I do not own Saint Seiya. Saint Seiya is (C) of Masami Kurumada, Toei, Shueisha, Akita Shoten and quite probably some more people. No copyright infringement or disrespect intended here. This is a work of fanfiction, done completely for fun. No profit is taken out of it.
Thanks : To Dani, for being a wonderful beta! :D
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Past the ice fields of the Cocytus, spread over the three first spheres on the way to Giudecca, lay the great cities of the north-west, where the higher rank specters dwell.
Kanon never made it that far the previous time… Even this time, he wouldn’t have been able to come that far if they didn’t take a boat to the valley of agony, which was itself not that far from the ice pits and the great waterfall of blood. The three specters had been useful, after all.
But the reason why nobody would expect him to be wandering in that area was precisely because it was such a well guarded place that trying to sneak into it was suicide.
Suicide wasn’t any new to him, though.
For years, he had yearned for death to free him from his miserable existence. And now that he had almost succeeded and died, it strangely felt as if it was an unwelcome feeling after all. It puzzled Kanon, but he shrugged the thoughts away. It was too late for this.
He was tired of running away. All his life, he had been running away from himself, and from his destiny. It was perhaps finally time to embrace it.
He thought he had finally accepted it when he came back to Sanctuary and put on the Gemini armor, but he was wrong. He still had hope then. Hope that he’d be free once he was done for and they didn’t need him anymore. He was wrong.
He was never but a shadow with no right to freedom.
It was time to prove that even as a shadow, he could still have some utility.
He shook the veil of tears off his eyes, and marched with decided steps towards the city, the beginning of his plan unfolding in his head.
*** * *** * ***
[Into The Abyss - Scene V] - “Hope or Despair?”
After a while walking without interruption, the human body starts to do its best at trying to convince the brain that it cannot take it any longer and will collapse anytime. Part of a saint’s training focuses on learning to ignore or manage those warnings. Because if you push it far enough, there are always more reserves. And when you truly run out of energy and pass out, your cosmo will back you up.
After a whole night and day walking non-stop again, Kanon could feel that truth in every muscle of his extenuated body. He did his best to focus on concealing his cosmo as much as possible, while sneaking from sides of cliffs to rocky formations, through the darkest paths and along the very edges of each sphere. It had taken him hours and hours, but he could finally see the first buildings of Tolomea, now that he was past Antenora and its great dome. He didn’t dare walking into the streets yet, instead keeping on the outskirts of the built areas. Most mansions had land around them, and were large as well as far apart from each other. This was after all the area inhabited by the most powerful specters, and all was arranged so that the core of it would be more similar to the human world, and more pleasant to the eye than most areas of the Underworld.
He decided to wait until the night to sneak into the city. In the meantime, he hid and kept an eye on the border, trying to get a better idea of how often the specter patrols passed.
A shiver ran through his body, and a wave of disgust reminded him of what he was about to do in a few hours. He realized that for once, he was genuinely scared, but there was no turning back now. He had considered carefully every single idea he had, and none of the others would work. There was no other way. Alone, he couldn’t do anything for Saga. To be more exact, alone or not, he couldn’t do anything himself. And the constant feeling of utter powerlessness wouldn’t leave him alone, making sure he wouldn’t forget that he couldn’t help them in any way, especially Saga.
The only chance, as tiny as it might be, the very only last hope, resided in the possibility of getting someone to help… someone who actually could make a difference.
He went once again over the little things that combined together had caused the idea to spark in his mind. The look in Rhadamanthys eyes a few times when they fought, the worry in the judge’s voice when Minos broke his hand or when he was attacked, the way the judge reacted when he tried to kill himself to take them both out, and especially, the words Rhadamanthys had whispered just before Kanon lost consciousness completely…
“I wish we could have met in a time or a world with no wars, and where I would have been able to touch your body without trying to hurt you.”
It wasn’t much, but, Kanon was used to subtleties, and he was sure that he had felt something in the judge’s cosmo, when his fingers touched the gold saint's hips just before he fell unconscious… something strange, unexpected, and that the other wanted to hide form him.
Desire.
Barely concealed lust.
He didn’t want to believe, at first, but little by little, all those little things came together in his mind like a puzzle, and he realized it was his best chance.
He really hoped he was right. Although a tiny part of him hoped that he was wrong, that the specter didn’t actually desire him in the least, but he quickly silenced that little voice. He had no choice.
The other wanderers and servants that he met on his way there -- and that he questioned about the charges the specters filed against the gold saints and the sentences that could possibly ensue -- all confirmed the version of the group of specters from the previous night.
Either his plan would work and he’d be able to help Saga, at least a bit, or it would fail and he’d be at Rhadamanthys mercy. There was no way he could fight the judge in that state, so it was a dangerous bet. But considering that it was his very only chance, he didn’t mind taking the risk.
After all, even if the chance of success was ridiculously low, it had to be tried. And if he failed, at least he’d share the fate of his comrades. Maybe he’d even be able to see Saga.
With all the energy of his despair and loss, he hoped that it would work and the judge would accept his proposition. Even if that meant that he would be completely lost. It didn’t matter, now that he had taken his decision. It was futile to continue keeping hopes for himself, as his whole life seemed to have proved so well. If he was really to be nothing more than a shadow, then he’d go with it all the way, and perform his task as he was expected.
There was no reason to dwell on what could have been, now that the path was clear before him.
But if that was the case, then why did the tears refuse to stop running down his face? He hugged himself and let go, burying his face on his knees and sobbing silently, huddled up against the rock.
For all his broken hopes, and all the ones he knew he wasn’t allowed to have anymore.
*** * ***
Empty eyes stared into nothingness.
The hand came down in a swift movement, slapping him across the face hard yet another time. But he didn’t move. He didn’t even make a sound. He was used to humiliation, and if they wanted to hurt him, they were going to have to do better than this or the earlier whipping.
The specter sighed in frustration and turned around for a second, as if making up his mind to leave. Instead, he spun around fast, and slammed his fist as hard as he could against the Gemini saint’s jaw, making the chair tumble to the side and fall with a loud noise.
Still tied tightly to the chair, Saga was as silent as ever, his head tilted lightly to the side and his eyes locked on a point on the wall. Blood trickled down his chin, uncared for. The man crouched by his face and seized him by the chin. No reaction. Just the same cold and empty stare. The gold saint’s behavior was giving the specter urges to gouge his eyes out.
“You find it very funny, don’t you? We’ll see how long you’ll keep this resistance up when Lord Minos arrives. His patience is not nearly as great as ours, and his arguments are also much more convincing…”
The name rang a familiar tone in Saga’s ear, and not a pleasant one. He didn’t get to meet Minos before, but he heard things of him. Things far from being reassuring.
But it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t speak. He would never speak.
The man stood up and kicked him hard in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him for a moment. By the time he got his breath back, the specter had left, leaving him in the dark, still tied to the chair fallen in the ground.
For the first time in hours, Saga allowed himself to let out a whimper, now that nobody could hear it. He’d better sleep. That body tired terribly fast, and he’d need the energy for later.
Laying his face down in the mass of blue hair spilled on the tiled ground, Saga closed his eyes and ignored the cold and the discomfort of the rope biting into his skin streaked with lash marks.
He was well used to humiliation, having spent a good thirteen years of his life prisoner of his own living nightmare. If they wanted to hurt him, they were going to have to do a lot better than this.
But he had no doubts that they would try their very best.
*** * ***
Night had fallen about one hour ago, and things were looking as peaceful as they could look in hell.
A cloaked shadow dashed from an alleyway to another, passing behind the domestic dependencies of the mansions, and sliding along the tall walls that encircled most residences. The smell of food would occasionally catch his attention as a painful reminder of his hunger, but he didn't stop.
From time to time, he’d cross another scared creature in the shadows. Homeless people, perhaps? Was there such a thing in that city?
He had assumed all wanderers were kept out of the cities, but then again maybe the guards only worried when roaming dead and such tried to enter? The poor wretched beings that cowered in the obscurity and tried to conceal themselves behind the darkest corners of the streets were as human as him, and could pass for anything but a treat.
Maybe former servants of the specters? Or rejects of yet another category of that society that he didn’t see before? There was a lot about the underworld that he still didn’t know or understand.
He stopped another time to catch his breath, leaning on the wall. Poorly protected by the thin greek sandals he was wearing, Kanon’s feet hurt in the freshly fallen snow. He hit his left foot against the right one and vice-versa, to make the chunks of ice and melting mud fall off, and sighed. His left hand was throbbing in pain. The lack of care in the past days -- added to a few bad falls while hiding from the enemies and the additional damage caused by his wrestling with the fence while lost in the horror of the previous night -- had worsened its condition a lot. He clutched it to his chest, and clenched his teeth. The pain was seeping through the hand all the way into his forearm. Collateral damage of some sort, perhaps? All he hoped for was that it wasn’t an infection.
It wasn’t very far anymore. Soon, he’d know if there was any hope for Saga, or if only despair was left.
He looked down and mentally chastised himself for wondering if there would be any for him. There wasn’t, and it wasn’t necessary that there were any anyway.
But it was just so hard to give up running away when it's all you've done all your life.
The fingers of his good hand pressed into the wounded one and drove a choked whimper out of his lips, the pain spreading like a net of searing light, and successfully taking his mind out of his previous thoughts.
Putting an end to his rest, Kanon started walking again in the direction from which he could perceive a familiar cosmo. Even though he was concealing his own as much as he could, he could perfectly feel the cosmos surrounding him, coming from each of the mansions, the guards in the streets, carriages passing by and such. And somewhere in that direction, he could feel Rhadamanthys’ presence, more and more distinct as he got closer and closer to the source of it.
Stopping suddenly in his tracks, Kanon froze in the middle of the street. He had identified where the feeling was coming from.
Right in front of him, beyond the light poles on the other side of the street, stood a large Victorian architecture mansion, behind a barred gate and tall walls equally decorated in a sober but elegant british style.
So this was how the place that would become his personal hell looked like.
*** * ***
Sitting on a large light-brown leather couch that followed one of the angles of a richly furnished room, Rhadamanthys ran his eyes over yet another piece of paperwork.
One would hope that a place like the underworld would be free of bureaucracy. Far from it. There’s a hell for judges and bureaucrats too, after all.
He sighed and went back to his reading, but couldn’t quite focus in it. He had a strange feeling that started at the beginning of the night and just wouldn’t go away. The re-organization of the Underworld was talking longer than it should, and although he wasn’t required to do so, he was hoping that giving a hand to the paperwork would speed the thing up at least a little bit. It was always better than stay waiting every day.
Minos had found more interesting things to do in the meantime, and Aiakos had a tendency to follow him, but Rhadamanthys felt compelled to do something to be of use. If anything, in hopes that this might take his mind off the problem that had been obsessing him lately.
The fire burning underneath the thick mahogany chimneypiece projected reflections that danced on the ceiling and seemed to give life to the dark wood that covered the lower two-thirds of all walls of the room. Putting the papers down on the glass table just in front of him, the judge rubbed his tired eyes and flexed his shoulders, deciding to take a break. He pulled his tie loose, and let his back sink into the soft cushions of the worn-down couch.
The boredom was killing him, and it was having the very opposite effect than the one he hoped for. His mind must be really playing tricks on him, because he could nearly feel Kanon’s presence in the house.
A knock on the door brought him back from his reverie, and Alphonse, the old butler, slid his head in through the opening of the door, after hearing the judge’s monosyllabic answer allowing him to.
“Milord, many apologies for disturbing you, but we have a problem.”
The problem had apparently snuck in through the domestics’ entrance, where the gate was unlocked, crossed the garden and forced his entry into the mansion through the kitchen. After the two women cleaning the dishes from dinner had taken him for a vagrant or a beggar and failed in stopping him, they fled and called for the butler’s help. After this point, the invader revealed his face, which just so happened to be the very same than that of the man in that morning’s paper. When a panicked Alphonse tried to explain to his master that “that Saga of Gemini” was in their kitchen, Rhadamanthys stared at him as if the old butler had suddenly sprouted a second head.
The judge knew better, and the first thought that crossed his head made him nearly fly down the stairway to the ground floor, storm through the dining hall and into the kitchen dependencies.
“That was fast.”
Rhadamanthys could have recognized that voice among a thousand others.
There, leaning against a chair by the kitchen table, stood his ex-nemesis, playing with a small salt dispenser that he rolled back and forth between his fingers.
A predatory grin on Kanon’s lips gave him the look of a feline about to play cat-&-mouse.
Rhadamanthys wondered if the man had gone insane, or if it was all just a façade to instill courage in himself or perhaps try to impress his adversary. The gold saint did have a tendency to act as much as possible as if everything was always under control, Rhadamanthys remembered, rethinking of the moment when Kanon faced all three judges of the Underworld at once, claiming he could beat them all easily.
The electricity in the air was almost palpable. Frowning in disbelief, the judge assumed a more imposing posture and strode across the space separating the two men. The light behind him projected his shadow over part of Kanon’s face, but he could swear he saw a flicker of fear show on the ex-marina’s features for a second.
“Did you come to surrender, now?!” - There was something in the judge’s voice akin to anger.
It was the same tone his voice had during their last battle, when he saw Kanon give up all his chances, remove the gold Cloth and pull a suicide attack.
“Oh no… I came to offer you something much better than that.” - Kanon’s eyes held a tempting light in them, and yet his voice sounded wrong, almost dead.
They were no more than a foot and a half away, now, and in one swift move, Kanon reached for the judge’s hand. Thinking that the gold saint was about to open the hostilities, Rhadamanthys almost countered with a punch to his head, but his fist stopped in mid air, and he froze when he realized what Kanon was doing.
A light blush over his face, the ex-marina held the judge’s hand open, pressing the palm against his lower belly, and parted his lips slightly, his breath uneven in apprehension. A shiver ran through his body, but he quickly controlled himself, and slid the Rhadamanthys’ hand over his body, leading it to his hip.
Rhadamanthys was mesmerized.
He didn’t understand what Kanon’s intentions were, and yet he couldn’t tear himself out of his fascinated state, as if he was hypnotized by the sight of his hand over that slim waist, the feeling of having Kanon so close to him without the armor to conceal his forms, the warmth of his skin...
“Are you going to judge the fallen gold saints?” - Kanon’s voice was trembling slightly.
“All three of us will. Why?”
“I… I have a proposition for you, Rhadamanthys. All I want is a fair judgment for Saga. All over the Underworld, I heard specters saying how his judgment will be an act of revenge rather than one of justice. All I’m asking for is justice. Real justice, not biased one. And in exchange, I offer you what you’re burning in desire for.” - The blush spread wider over the gold saint’s face, and the unsteadiness of his voice worsened yet a bit, but his words were formed slowly and with apparent calm. There was a poignant desperation in his voice, that he tried in vain to hide, but that showed fully in his eyes.
“What?” - The judge couldn't believed what he just heard.
He must be dreaming. This must be yet another of those daydreams he had lately. Either that, or he was terribly misunderstanding the other man’s words. He realized too late that the fire burning in his eyes when his hand had touched the gold saint’s waist was a little too obvious for someone as used to manipulation as Kanon.
“I can see it… in your eyes. When you look at me. And even more, when you touch me.” - And for further proof, Kanon pressed the other man’s hand tighter against his waist, and crossed the few inches left between them, bringing his face just underneath his former enemy’s. “See?” - He teased, his breath tickling the specter’s chin.
The judge mentally berated himself for having been so obvious. Granted, Kanon was terribly tempting, and the idea that all of his recent fantasies could be fulfilled right away, possibly right over that table, made it all the more diffulcult to resist, but he mustn't allow the saint to see the extent of the effect he could have over him. Letting him know how accurate his assumptions were would give him the advantage, and that, the judge couldn't allow.
Rhadamanthys narrowed his eyes, his gaze hard, determined to see where this was going.
The gold saint continued, slowly - “I could be all yours. If you accept my proposition, I’ll be…yours…to do as you please, anywhere, anytime. I'll belong to you.” - Kanon licked his lips nervously, and the image of those soft, slightly wet lips so close to his face almost drove Rhadamanthys out of his mind for a second. Quickly retaking control over his senses, the judge pulled his hand off his former enemy’s hip, and raised it to touch the man's face with a possessive gesture.
“Hmm…a slave? Would you really be willing to give up your freedom for it? Do you realize that you would belong to me until the very end of times?” - The judge got closer and closer, leaving Kanon no room to back off, until he pinned him against the table, his hand strongly holding the gold saint’s face, at the base of his jaw.
But Kanon couldn’t let intimidation stop him. He had to make sure, and he had to go all the way.
“Do you accept or not?” - Almost letting the bitterness and despair show in his words, the ex-marina couldn’t prevent the shaking in his voice, and for the first time, Rhadamanthys saw fear in that face for sure.
“If I do…. It will be on my terms. I will not tolerate insubmission. Not even the slightest. You are to obey to my every command, and you are to do so instantly.”
The judge continued - “Slaves are a relatively common thing in the Underworld, you know? Especially pleasure slaves. I’m sure you understand what I mean, and what you would have to do.”
Kanon’s face was livid. The judge was still holding his jaw, while running the fingertips of his other hand over the saint’s belly and chest, toying with the holes from the scarlet needle that in his clothes still sported.
“If I accept your deal, you are to be my slave and stay here forever, if I wish so. Are you truly going to give yourself to me completely?”
“Yes…” - The gold saint’s eyes were cast down, a flush of shame mixed with dread covering his face from ear to ear.
“Prove it. On your knees.”
Kanon slid to the ground in a liquid movement, and swallowing his shame, kneeled at the judge’s feet. The humiliation added to all the weariness and worry made him short-breathed.
It was one thing to fight Rhadamanthys, even in that state. Fighting to the death wasn’t something that frightening, considering all that he already lived through.
It was what was about to happen that frightened him. All the unknown and self-abasement that felt so close that he could nearly touch it.
Not to mention the fact that the judge had no reason to act honorably and stick to any agreement. Considering the state of the gold saint, if Rhadamanthys wanted, he could very well have his way with him by force, and then drag him to the camps afterwards. But Kanon had nothing left to do, and he came there assuming that Rhadamanthys was, as he thought, a man of honor. He just hoped that what he had to offer would interest the judge more than a brutal one-night stand.
Lowering his head, Kanon closed his eyes in shame and let go of all that he had left, whispering in an almost inaudible voice. - “Do as you please.”
The rapturous sensation that invaded Rhadamanthys when he heard his former enemy’s words was stronger than any sexual excitement he had felt in years, or perhaps even longer.
Squatting down to put himself at the other’s height, the judge lifted his prey’s chin and smiled hungrily.
“We have a deal, Kanon.”
He couldn’t quite tell if it was joy and hope that he saw in the gold saint’s eyes, or sheer horror.
******
[To Be Continued]
[Next Scene : “Time To Learn Your Place.”]
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Sagakure, January 13th, 2006