Say it to me, say it to me [Fic]
PG-13-ish. Violence, some language.
[You knew the precise moment the curse broke. And you knew it was not because God had died.]
It was raining. It had been raining for the last two weeks, nonstop, and Naoya had known it for what it was-a scare tactic. They’d ignored it, pushed on through the blood and pain and feathers, fighting every single step of the way to the Throne. Even though he planned this, Naoya couldn’t quite help but have been amazed that they’d made it this far. Kiyoshi’s power had grown beyond what even he’d expected.
They had not been ready for what was at the Throne. If it had just been Metatron and Sandalphon, if it had just been YHWH, they might have stood a chance. The failure had stung, a burning gash across festering old wound, and Naoya had been bound, blade to his throat, used as a…bargaining chip against the King of Bel.
He’d listened, eyes closing, as Metatron explained to Kiyoshi precisely who they both were, what he’d done, what he was trying to do. And he’d wanted to laugh. It would backfire on them-Kiyoshi had plenty of his own reasons to hate them all now, and all they were doing was losing their last bargaining chip. To be honest, Naoya had stopped listening.
‘YOU HAVE BEEN JUDGED, SON OF MAN, TO BE GUILTY OF CRIMES THAT EQUAL YOUR BROTHER’S.”
For the first time in so many centuries, Naoya’s blood ran cold. No. No. Over all the centuries, over all the plans and ideas and gambits he’d made, he had never once considered this possibility.
He had never once wanted his brother to suffer his fate. It was then that he’d started fighting to get free, trying to stop it, to do anything to halt what was going to happen. He felt the blade dig into his flesh, even as the blast of magic he’d released hit. There was black at the edge of his vision-he’d died before, but he didn’t want to die now, not so close, not with his brother condemned to the same fate.
And that was the single moment when he felt the curse shatter and break, moments before he’d passed out.
[God had had nothing to do with the curse. It that moment of clarity, between death and living, you knew that had broken it the moment someone else had become more of a priority. It began with Abel and ended with Abel and because the curse was broken, you were perfectly fine with that thought.]
He woke up several weeks later, in the makeshift infirmary they’d made in the top of the Tower. The bandages around his neck had itched like anything, and Loki was the one keeping watch over him.
Naoya had tried to say something, and been rather frustrated when he couldn’t. Loki had laughed at him.
‘Let me get your brother, then.’
He’d been afraid he’d say that. But you can’t speak, or at least not well enough to stop Loki, and soon enough he’d gotten Kiyoshi and then gone to guard the door. Looking at Kiyoshi, his eyes puffy and red-rimmed from crying, had broken his heart in a way he hadn’t thought possible.
“Why….don’t you hate me?” Because he didn’t, it was clear he didn’t, and Naoya couldn’t understand that. The problem was, Kiyoshi had called him an idiot and cracked his ribs when he hugged him, and never really answered.
Well, Naoya had though to himself as he passed out again. He could figure it out.
[You knew the precise moment the curse broke. And you knew it was not because God had died.]
It was raining. It had been raining for the last two weeks, nonstop, and Naoya had known it for what it was-a scare tactic. They’d ignored it, pushed on through the blood and pain and feathers, fighting every single step of the way to the Throne. Even though he planned this, Naoya couldn’t quite help but have been amazed that they’d made it this far. Kiyoshi’s power had grown beyond what even he’d expected.
They had not been ready for what was at the Throne. If it had just been Metatron and Sandalphon, if it had just been YHWH, they might have stood a chance. The failure had stung, a burning gash across festering old wound, and Naoya had been bound, blade to his throat, used as a…bargaining chip against the King of Bel.
He’d listened, eyes closing, as Metatron explained to Kiyoshi precisely who they both were, what he’d done, what he was trying to do. And he’d wanted to laugh. It would backfire on them-Kiyoshi had plenty of his own reasons to hate them all now, and all they were doing was losing their last bargaining chip. To be honest, Naoya had stopped listening.
‘YOU HAVE BEEN JUDGED, SON OF MAN, TO BE GUILTY OF CRIMES THAT EQUAL YOUR BROTHER’S.”
For the first time in so many centuries, Naoya’s blood ran cold. No. No. Over all the centuries, over all the plans and ideas and gambits he’d made, he had never once considered this possibility.
He had never once wanted his brother to suffer his fate. It was then that he’d started fighting to get free, trying to stop it, to do anything to halt what was going to happen. He felt the blade dig into his flesh, even as the blast of magic he’d released hit. There was black at the edge of his vision-he’d died before, but he didn’t want to die now, not so close, not with his brother condemned to the same fate.
And that was the single moment when he felt the curse shatter and break, moments before he’d passed out.
[God had had nothing to do with the curse. It that moment of clarity, between death and living, you knew that had broken it the moment someone else had become more of a priority. It began with Abel and ended with Abel and because the curse was broken, you were perfectly fine with that thought.]
He woke up several weeks later, in the makeshift infirmary they’d made in the top of the Tower. The bandages around his neck had itched like anything, and Loki was the one keeping watch over him.
Naoya had tried to say something, and been rather frustrated when he couldn’t. Loki had laughed at him.
‘Let me get your brother, then.’
He’d been afraid he’d say that. But you can’t speak, or at least not well enough to stop Loki, and soon enough he’d gotten Kiyoshi and then gone to guard the door. Looking at Kiyoshi, his eyes puffy and red-rimmed from crying, had broken his heart in a way he hadn’t thought possible.
“Why….don’t you hate me?” Because he didn’t, it was clear he didn’t, and Naoya couldn’t understand that. The problem was, Kiyoshi had called him an idiot and cracked his ribs when he hugged him, and never really answered.
Well, Naoya had though to himself as he passed out again. He could figure it out.