A/N: Okay, I have a lot to say. This is an angelic AU Weiss Kreuz fanfiction. Oh god, it sounds cliché already, doesn't it? It's not, I promise! Also, being of the non-Christian variety, I don't really know much about god and heaven and all that. So, what I don't know, I'm just making up. Tough cookies. The one thing that someone should know while reading this fic is the hierarchy of angels, since I use it. Yeah. It is as follows, from highest, most powerful angel, to lowest, measly angel. Seraphim, cherubim, thrones, dominions, powers, virtues, principalities, archangels, and angels. That is what I have learned off the internet. It could be wrong. For the sake of this story, that is how it goes.
Also (are you still reading? Probably not, but I hope so), I'd like to apologize for any confusion or butchered character personalities (coughcoughManxandSchuldig). Besides that, this fic is kind of on hold right now, as I am stuck for thoughts (I know the ending, but not the middle) but I thought I would post this first chapter anyways, and see what kind of reactions I get. The end.
Oh! It's not the end. I almost forgot. The whole inspiration of this story came to me while I was reading Paradise Lost in English class (heh heh now we all know what I really think about during school), so the titles come from phrases from the original story and the prologue part is done in Paradise Lost-style, mockingly.
Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss. I know nothing of God or Christianity, except for what I learned in Sunday school when I was five. All we did was color pictures of Jesus. I'm just making it up as I go along, folks.
In the beginning, God created the world. And it was good. He ruled the Heavens and Earth with patience and understanding, and the angels served Him faithfully. One day, however, the highest angel, one of the pure Seraphim, led an army of traitorous angels against the all-powerful God. He smote the rebels viciously and sent them tumbling down, away from His grace, into the dark and flaming pits of Hell, where they were to spend an immortal eternity in suffering. The leader, however, was not content to burn forever. His name was Ran.
So the story tells us, so the angels believed. But we all know that most things are not as they seem, and most stories have a untold secret.
Lifetimes passed, mortals thrived, and the black-winged traitors remained captive in their prison, separated from He who had made them. Eventually, He left His Heaven, disappearing for years as he was wont to do. Some angels theorized that He vanished to sleep, others believed that He assumed mortal form to travel throughout his creation. Heaven was left in the charge of the capable angels, and all was seemingly at peace. But beneath the tranquility ran undercurrents of darkness, and the threads of hateful conspiracy would soon be revealed.
And so this story is one of war and bloodshed, love and desire, but above all, redemption. It is the tale of one's struggle to find the truth against overwhelming odds and to rise above the corruption of Heaven. So it begins.
Darkness Visible
In The Shadow of Flames
Ken brushed his bangs out of his eyes and leaned against the doorway, surveying the scene before him with a small sigh. Papers were strewn all over the office, and most of the drawers along the wall of file cabinets were halfway open. The large room was a chaotic mess that all seemed to spiral in towards the center, where a mahogany desk sat amid the clutter. The surface of the desk was clean and polished, and a young boy sat behind it, scribbling furiously in a worn book. Ken cleared his throat and tried again.
"Uh...Omi? Are you busy right now?" There was still no response from the boy. Ken rapped his knuckles against the door frame and coughed loudly, trying to raise the boy's attention without really intruding. It was never a good idea to bother the Angel of Death while he was working.
"Oh! Ken! I'm sorry, I didn't notice you there!" Ken smiled as he watched a piece of paper hover in the air above Omi's head before floating down to the desk. Omi snatched up the paper and began scribbling in his book again.
"Is this a bad time? I can come back later..."
"Oh, no! That would be terribly rude of me, I called you here to talk, after all! It'll just be a minute, I promise!"
Ken shrugged and made himself more comfortable against the door frame as Omi continued to write quickly in the book. Steps echoed hollowly from the marble corridor behind him, and a breeze ruffled the feathers on his wings as someone passed by the office. Time dragged by, but Ken didn't notice its passage. When you've been alive for centuries, a few minutes don't make a difference.
Omi finally put down his pen and stretched with a happy sigh, relieving his cramped wings and legs. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he had taken a break, but there was no time for one now. Death papers could come fluttering in at any minute. There was always so much to do...
"Oh, Ken! Sorry, I almost forgot!"
"It's okay, Omi. What did you want to talk to me about?" Ken asked, smiling patiently.
"I was wondering if you had seen Manx today...I sent her on an errand yesterday, but she hasn't returned and Nagi needs a messenger."
"Sorry, I haven't seen her since she took off yesterday."
"Oh...rats...none of the lower angels are appropriate for the job..." Omi trailed off, shooting Ken an odd glance from beneath lowered eyelids.
Ken threw both hands up in the air in a parody of surrender. "Fine fine, I'll do it. What does Nagi need?"
"Thank you, Ken! I'm not sure, you need to ask him about it." A piece of paper appeared above Omi's head and the angel quickly returned to his job. Ken laughed softly to himself and left the office, heading down the marble hall. He despised messenger duty, but he was willing to do it today. He couldn't have anyone growing suspicious. He may have said he didn't know the Archangel Manx's whereabouts, but he had lied. He couldn't just come out and say that she was conferring with fallen angels for him, planning to blaspheme against God, now could he?
He arrived at the door marked Angel of Life within a few minutes of leaving Omi's office and knocked on the door. A small monotonous voice greeted him.
"Come in, I've got a job for you."
Ken rolled his eyes before entering. How did they always know that he would say yes?
People streamed by Manx's bench, oblivious to her presence. The park was crowded today, but it didn't matter to Manx. Normal humans couldn't see her unless she wanted them to, and even then it was a challenge to get a human to pay attention to her. Perhaps that was the reason why angels stopped making frequent contact with earthly beings. It was so hard to get them to listen. These days, Manx spent more time watching humans than talking to them.
She drummed her fingers on the bench impatiently. It was so like Ken to be late. Here she had been running around all day talking to people for him, putting her angelic status on the line for his information, and he had the gall to come late. Just because he was a Dominion didn't mean he could walk all over her. If he was going to show up late, he could go get his own information. Maybe she should tell him that. Stand up for herself.
"Hey Manx!" Ken called, appearing suddenly in a flash of light. He grinned cheerfully and gestured for her to make room for him on the bench. She slid over and tucked her wings behind her, leaving him plenty of space.
"Why are you late? If you're going to show up late, you can get your own information," Manx said tersely, crossing her legs and scowling.
"Whoa, calm down," Ken said, looking at her as if she was a rabid dog about to bite him. "I'm late because I was covering your job, delivering a message for Nagi."
Manx stared at him incredulously before bursting into laughter. "You, delivering a message of joy?! That's great! How'd it go? Did you trip over yourself and say your lines backwards?" She continued to giggle, earlier anger forgotten.
"Hey...that's not funny..." Ken said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Actually..."
"What'd you do? Come on, you can tell me!" Manx turned an innocent, wide eyed look on Ken. He blushed and looked away.
"I tripped over my robe and ripped it," he said quickly, running the words together. Manx's jaw dropped for a few seconds before she collapsed in laughter again. Ken rolled his eyes for the second time that day and made himself comfortable on the bench.
"So, did you talk to Yohji?" he asked once she had stopped laughing. Manx straightened up on the bench and grimaced.
"Yeah, I talked to him, and he hit on me. I swear that guy will never change." Ken fidgeted and waited for her to continue. His entire scheme rested on her answer. If Yohji had said no...well, Ken would still try. Nothing could stop him from trying. But if Yohji said no, Ken would fail.
"Relax, Ken, he didn't say no. He wants you to tell him the entire plan before he agrees fully, though," she said, frowning. "I don't think he quite trusts me. Then again, I don't blame him."
Ken let out a relieved sigh. "When does he want to meet, then?"
"If your schedule is clear, you can go over to his place right now. I've got to be getting back, though, I'm sure there are messages for me to deliver." Manx handed him a piece of paper with writing on it. "I assume you'll want to walk there, so here's the address. And watch out. As I said before, he hasn't changed a bit." She winked and vanished before Ken could reply.
He looked down at the address. She was right, he did want to walk, and it was only a few blocks away. Ken shoved the paper in his pocket and rose from the bench. He made his way out of the park and started in the direction of Yohji's apartment, letting his mind drift. New Orleans was as familiar to him as the hallways of Heaven, and he enjoyed letting his feet do the walking while he thought about the people around him.
Ken had found that humans were so different from the angels God had modeled them after. Religious humans had always revered angels, respected them and tried to emulate them. Many were even envious of God's Heavenly servants, but Ken found himself feeling the opposite. Humans were so free, their lives their own. Their futures were undecided. They could be free with their emotions. Ken had never had that freedom, he had always wanted more. Perhaps he would have that chance.
Yohji's apartment was one of many in a more upscale neighborhood of New Orleans. Ken easily found the apartment number he had been given and rang the doorbell, shifting from foot to foot anxiously while staring at the patterns in the carpet. Just because Yohji had agreed to a meeting didn't mean he would agree. If he didn't say yes, it would be just him and Manx. If they didn't succeed, he would fall. Well, he would probably fall even if they did succeed, but that was a different story.
"Yo, Kenken. I must say, its been a long time," Yohji's voice broke into his thoughts. Ken looked up, startled. Yohji was leaning against the doorframe, his body posed seductively. Ken was suddenly even more nervous. He had forgotten just how lustful the other angel could be.
"Uh, hi Yohji," he said, gulping loudly afterwards.
"Why don't you stop wearing down the carpet and come in?" Yohji backed up from the doorframe and gestured for Ken to come inside. Ken walked in hesitantly, closing the door behind him. Yohji's apartment was luxurious at first glance. Ken found himself in a large living room, with a door leading to the kitchen on one side and a hallway leading down to other rooms on the other.
"Have a seat, Kenken," Yohji said, sitting down on the large leather sofa that dominated one end of the room. Ken sat on the other side, scooting back so that he was as far away from Yohji as possible.
"So, Kenken, I have two questions for you. I want to know why you need my help, and I want to know what you plan on doing, in detail."
"Well...it's like this...Manx and I can't do this on our own. We're not strong enough, and we don't know our way around Hell. You've...uh..."
"Been there?" Yohji asked, completing Ken's sentence. "Yeah, I've been there alright, and I don't really want to go back. Why should I?"
"Don't you want revenge? I know that you fell for the same reason Ran got sent into Hell, I know that the same person is responsible for your torment as his. If you help me free Ran, you can get back at the one person you hate." Yohji didn't respond. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up as Ken continued desperately. "Don't you want to free Schuldig?"
Yohji paused with the cigarette half way to his mouth, his eyes locked on Ken's. His gaze was intense. Ken wanted to look away from the anger burning in those eyes, but he didn't. He couldn't.
"You shouldn't smoke, you know, it's bad for your health," Ken said finally, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. Yohji stared at him a few more moments before snorting disdainfully.
"It can't kill me. So, tell me what our plan of action is." Ken felt his spirits lift at this statement. With Yohji on his side, maybe he could really pull this off.
"Well, I'm sure you've heard the news about God being away," Ken began, and when Yohji nodded, he continued, "So basically, everything He made is weak and deteriorating. That includes the barriers to Hell."
"Yeah, that's all fine and good, but what about Crawford?" Yohji asked. He regretted it as he saw Ken wince at the mention of the Seraphim's name. But the question had to be asked. Crawford, as the second highest ranking Seraphim, had taken control of Heaven when Ran had fallen into Hell. He was also the one responsible for Ran's descent.
"He doesn't suspect anything, if that's what you're asking. And by the time he finds out what we've done, Ran will be free."
"So we're going to spring Ran from Hell and then hope he is willing to protect us from the wrath of Crawford? Even if we do get Ran out, there is no guarantee that God won't wake up and send us all back down there."
"I know, I know. But I'm willing to take that risk," Ken replied bitterly, "If I can't get Ran out of Hell, I want to be there with him."
Yohji nodded and snubbed out his cigarette on an ashtray on the coffee table. "I can understand that. And hey, I can't fall any lower than I am now. Nothing to lose, as they say. When're we going to pull this off?"
"Well, Manx and I need a few more days to get it all finalized," Ken said, leaning forward conspiratorially, "But it should be soon. I'll find ways to send you messages."
A lecherous grin spread across Yohji's face. "Why don't you bring me messages in person? I've missed seeing you"
"I'm sure you've missed Manx, too, so I think I'll have her deliver messages." Ken smiled good-naturedly. Yohji was right, though. It had been too long since they had talked.
"You wound me. So, how's life been treating you?" Yohji asked, making himself comfortable on the couch.
"As usual, you know the routine. Deliver messages, save children, guide the wayward souls, all that boring stuff. It all seems so...pointless now." Yohji watched as Ken ran a hand through his hair. His friend seemed distracted, lost. Yohji thought he knew what part of the problem was.
"Hey, if you ever get tired of doing the angel thing, you can join me here. The city of fallen angels is a great place to be. You're a Dominion, Ken, don't forget that. You serve God of your own will."
"Yeah, I know..." Ken picked at his sleeves, not meeting Yohji's eyes.
"If you ever get tired of Crawford's bed, there's plenty of room in mine." Ken's head jerked up, his eyes narrowed.
"I am not sleeping with that...that...bastardly deceptive prick!" he hissed, friendly mannerisms forgotten.
"Don't get your panties in a twist, Kenken," Yohji replied, "I simply wasn't sure. He's a manipulative creep, and he gets what he wants. I just figured that after centuries of wanting you, he'd have you." Ken relaxed again and unclenched his hands. The mere mention of Crawford was enough to make him twitch. "But my offer still stands. You're welcome to stay here whenever you want."
Ken smiled slightly at his friend. "Thanks, Yohji, but I'm hoping I won't have to take you up on that. Things will change when I get Ran out."
Half an hour later, Ken was walking down the hall towards his apartment. Heaven was nothing like the stories told. All of the angels worked and lived in one grandiose marble building. Many, like Omi and Nagi, rarely saw the rest of Heaven. Even the most pure human soul was not allowed in the angelic headquarters. The last one that had gotten in spent decades wandering the hallways, looking for an exit. The place was immense and ever- changing.
The angels had their own apartments, which lined several long corridors and were arranged by rank. Seraphim, like Crawford, had their own separate wings of the building. Ken finally reached the door of his apartment and stepped inside. They had no use for locks in Heaven.
The small room was dark and warm when Ken walked in. He chose to leave the living room lights off; he was familiar enough with his apartment to find the way around in the dark. He flung his jacket in the direction of a chair and navigated around the random piles of stuff littering his floor, heading for the kitchen.
"Now why would the Dominion Ken spend the day in the city of fallen angels, I wonder?"
Ken paused at the deep voice that rang out from the couch, his breathing becoming rapid. He turned towards the sound, trying to make out the figure on the couch in the darkness. Crawford was sitting leisurely, barely illuminated by the glow of appliances from the kitchen.
"What are you doing here, sir?" Ken asked, trying to sound polite and keep his nervousness out of his voice. He didn't do a very good job.
Crawford rose from the couch and stalked towards Ken, who had to fight the urge to run. "Do I need an excuse to drop by and visit? I thought we were friends, Ken."
Ken didn't reply. For a minute he thought Crawford was simply going to walk past, but Crawford stopped right in front of him. Ken flinched when the Seraphim reached out and touched his cheek, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. Crawford's face was cold and calculating, and Ken thought he was going to die under his harsh gaze.
"Don't avoid me, Ken," he said, letting his hand drop. Ken stifled a sigh of relief as the other angel made his way to the door, but quickly became nervous again when he stopped at the doorway. "Don't forget what I said before, either. Someday you will be mine." With that he was gone, and the room instantly felt lighter. This time Ken really did sigh, and allowed himself to sink down on the couch.
There were some days that he really wished he could die, he thought miserably. Ken eyed the door. Maybe he would invest in a lock, but he doubted a lock could stop Crawford.
"Ha! I made the most matches! I win!" Schuldig crowed, throwing up his arms triumphantly. He smirked at the man sitting across from him. "Wanna play again?"
"Your victory hurts God," the angel replied, firelight flickering dangerously across his pale features.
"Alright! Another game!" Schuldig yelled, scooping up the scattered cards from the black marble floor. He glanced over to where the third occupant of the room was sprawled on the floor, leaning against the wall. The torches, placed at even intervals around the bare room, cast a harsh glow against the Seraphim.
"Hey Ran, wanna join in?" he asked, his voice echoing off the ebony walls. Ran looked up at him and then rose to his feet, stretching his back and wings. His footsteps bounced against the walls as he made his way to where Schuldig and Farfarello sat on the ground, miscellaneous cards scattered between them. "I've been kicking Farf's ass, man! I must be the best card player in the world!"
Ran looked mildly skeptical. "What are you playing?"
"Go Fish! Sit down and I'll deal you in!" Ran obliged, settling himself on the warm floor of their cell. After hundreds of years of imprisonment, one would think that he would be able to call the dungeon home. But to him, the cell seemed only temporary. Someday, he would make it back to Heaven, back to the real home he had lost. He looked around the prison while Schuldig shuffled the cards. The entire room was black marble, the only entrance a heavy iron door. Ran knew that two angelic Thrones stood on the other side of that door. Normally, Thrones would not be a problem for a Seraphim like Ran, despite that fact that his power was lessened by his fall from grace. If only he had his sword, the holy sword that was granted to all the Seraphims. But it had been stolen from him by Crawford when that bastard had him framed. With that sword...
A sharp cry interrupted Ran's thoughts. He focused back on the present, a slight smile forming at the sight before him.
"Don't you pull out my feathers, you sick bastard!" Schuldig said, glaring at Farfarello, who was holding a handful of black feathers and grinning. Schuldig lunged at him and Farfarello threw the feathers in his face, cackling. Ran picked up the deck of cards and began dealing them out.
"Why don't we ever play something besides Go Fish?" Ran asked as Schuldig returned to the game. Schuldig scooped up his hand of cards as he answered.
"Like I've told you before, Farf doesn't know anything else...hey, don't put that in your mouth!" Schuldig reached over and yanked a soggy card out of Farfarello's mouth. Farfarello attempted to bite his fingers. Ran ignored them and studied the cards in his hand.
All of the cards had chewed edges; some had bloodstains. One of the cards was so worn he could barely make out the symbols. Most of the wear on the cards had come from Farfarello. The cards had been around for years, maybe decades. Ran could still remember the day Schuldig had got them. The persistent Archangel had stood at the door of their cell for hours, begging the guards for something to do. Schuldig had made wild promises and had become so annoying that the guards finally relented. Schuldig played cards constantly. If no one would play with him, he played solitaire. Ran had a feeling it was the only thing that kept him sane.
Too bad they hadn't had a deck of cards to keep Farfarello sane. The once- bright angel had gone crazy shortly after their imprisonment, even going so far as to gouge out his eye in madness. None of it would have happened if it hadn't been for that damn Crawford.
"Come on Ran, it's your turn," Schuldig whined, bringing Ran back to the game. Ran studied his cards again and made his move as Schuldig leered at him. "Were you day-dreaming? You know, I can make those dreams reality for you..." he purred, giving Ran a seductive look. Ran didn't even bother to respond.
Servants hurried out of Crawford's path as he made his way into his private chambers. He had an entire wing of rooms, but most were used for meetings and business matters. His private rooms were off-limits to everyone, even his servants. Everyone except Ken, of course.
He wasn't sure when he first knew he wanted Ken. Ken was perfect, Ken was innocent. Ken was everything the angels were supposed to be. Crawford wanted to break him. He wanted to see Ken cry, he wanted to see him suffer. He wanted to be the cause of it all. What would the precious angel look like with his spirit broken, his free will gone? Crawford would find out. He just had to wait. Everything was in place. He had gotten rid of Ran, and no one else would dare oppose him.
Crawford entered his spacious bedroom, mind still dwelling on Ken. He unbuckled his sword belt, removing it from around his waist. The sheathed sword was placed upon the rack on one wall of the room, next to another sword. The two weapons were identical in everything except color. One red, one black. Crawford ran his hand across the black sword lightly.
"I've taken your sword, Ran, and I'll get Ken," he said aloud, even though he knew his words would never reach Ran. He smirked at the sword and turned to finish undressing. Crawford would get Ken. He just had to wait. It would just take some more time. And he had all the time in the world.
Ken laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. He had long since given up on sleep. There were too many things to worry about, too much running through his head. He and Manx had set the plan, they knew Yohji would help. But there was one issue that he still needed to resolve, and it was something he had to do on his own.
Ken knew exactly where Crawford kept Ran's sword. Crawford had shown it to Ken a few days after he had framed Ran and sent him to Hell. He could still remember Crawford's arrogant smirk and the way he had looked at him, despite that fact that centuries had gone by.
He had to get that sword back. There was no way Ran could hold his own against Crawford if Ken didn't bring him the sword. It would be easier for Ken if it was just Ran's sword he intended to take. But he wanted both. If Ran had both his own sword and Crawford's, he would be unstoppable. Crawford wouldn't be able to touch him.
Ken rolled over onto his side as he considered the situation. He could sneak into Crawford's rooms while the Seraphim was away, but only Ran's sword would be there. Crawford wore his sword constantly. He only took it off to sleep. That meant that Ken had to sneak into the room while Crawford was sleeping. Crawford wasn't stupid though, and he posted guards in front of the doorway at night. Somehow, Ken would have to find a way to get in while Crawford was in bed.
If you ever get tired of Crawford's bed...
Ken's eyes widened. He hadn't thought of that before. If he spent the night with Crawford, he could steal the swords while the Seraphim was asleep. But was he willing to give himself to Crawford in order to free Ran? How far was he willing to go for Ran? The answer was simple: as far as he needed to go. He wouldn't tell anyone else about it...He couldn't. Not even Ran. If Ran did find out, he would be furious. That didn't matter to Ken, though. Even if Ran was upset with him and never wanted to see him again, Ken could live with that. As long as Ran was free, Ken would be content.
Ken would give anything for Ran, even himself.