Title: Last Ascension (2/4)

Characters: Leo, Vincent, Gilbert, Zwei/Echo, Lotti, mentions of Elliot and Oz

Pairings: Elliot/Leo, Oz/Gil, Vince/Zwei, Vincent/Gilbert

Rating & Warnings: M for smut (incest), non-con, dubcon, mentions of (kinky) underage sex, metaphysical (and very physical) angst

Kinks: non-con, dub-con, bondage, voyeurism, mind-control

Summary: In the midst of his grief over losing Elliot, Leo wants to ruin everything once associated with the Nightray Dukedom. Including its last Heir. AU. Post-Retrace 70.

Note:

NOT part of the Borderlands series.

And, for the curious, I consider Zwei to have a female-to-male transgender identity, with Echo being a persona Zwei created inspired by his former female self. That is why I refer to Zwei as "he" and Echo as "she."

But Vincent still screws them both. :D

Disclaimer: Jun Mochizuki and Square Enix own everything, except the lyrics.

Lyrics: "Sin" ~ NIN

Chapter 2

i'm just an effigy to be defaced
to be disgraced

Vincent walked toward Gilbert's rooms, following the calm strides of his master. The blond gave a sideways glance at Echo by his side, silent and obedient as always. Zwei, the Baskerville's male self, lurked beneath the surface of that feminine exterior, and Zwei was the one who asked that if Vincent were to take Gilbert, whether Zwei could be the one to control him.

"Please, Vincent, please," Zwei had begged as he clung to Vincent while they lay together, slumped against the legs of the divan the last time the Baskerville emerged. Zwei rested his head on Vincent's chest, his pale white locks against Vincent's open silk chemise and said, "I can direct him to act perfectly. You'll enjoy it too."

"Oh shush, you." Vincent propped his chin on top of the youth's head, resisting the urge to wrap a hand around Zwei's neck. "This is a time between Gil and me only." The thought of Zwei possessing Gilbert made him seethe, and it was only the fact that he was the one manipulating Zwei – and Echo – that soothed his thoughts. Vincent depended on the Baskerville to choose devotion to him over the rest of the clan, if things ever went south.

Alternative plans immediately came to mind when Leo offered his brother…. Immediately, he wondered why. Was this a token of appreciation? A selfless gesture of sympathy? Or some sort of plan that Vincent was not aware of?

He had spent so many years assessing people and using Baskerville and Pandora alike to meet his ends, and even now, with that sweet goal of oblivion close enough to touch, he feared that everything he had worked so long for would be snatched out from under him. Vincent wanted to refuse Leo's proposal outright – what kind of person did the child think he was, that he would be pleased to claim his brother like plundered war spoils?

Lotti met them as she emerged from the doorway to Gil's bedroom. She rubbed a hand against Vincent's chest and said teasingly, "I prepped him for you. Not that it took too much trouble."

What was this tramp doing here? He restrained from snapping at her, even bowing to let Leo enter before him, as a servant should. Leo glanced indifferently at the huddled form on the bed before seating himself in the plush wingchair by the fireplace, directly across from them. He propped one heeled boot over a knee and lazily raised a hand to signal Vincent to approach.

Seeing Gilbert's humiliated, uncovered body made hot anger, white and cold, toward Lotti wash over Vince and for a moment, Demios lifted her head in his mind in silent inquiry. One sharp glance at the door, and he heard Leo make a disapproving tsk under his breath.

What kind of gift was his master presenting? Vincent thought viciously. He wasn't about to be used to entertain some child's whims, as much as he was committed to the Baskerville Heir.

Resentfully, he pushed that anger down and instead redirected his attention at comforting his brother. He touched his cheek and saw Gilbert visibly shudder at the contact, pleading for him to go.

"Brother…" Vincent couldn't deny the pain in his voice and Gilbert gave him a hesitant glimpse as he started to undo the ropes. "Gil doesn't need to be afraid," he assured him. "As long as big brother obeys, everything will be fine."

For a long time, Vincent suspected something unauthentic about the loyalty instilled in the Baskerville clan toward their Glen. How often did meetings with the Baskervilles turn into commiserating sessions, where one or another would tremble and break at the mention of their Master not being in the world any longer? Lily had cried the most, poor child, though Vincent suspected that despite her display of stoicism, Lotti had been pained the most by his loss (Vincent understood, in a way, having the same reaction toward Gil so often).

But as their misery became repeated and looped into an endless, unchallenged cycle, Vincent wondered at how such a cycle of relentless grief could perpetuate itself. He yearned for Gil, certainly, but he had outlets and motivation to distract him and halting that circuit of pain now and then. But the Baskerville obsession paralleled that of his brother's preoccupation with that Vessalius brat.

Vincent knew this devotion to be one and the same. All those years Gil pined for Oz Vessalius were lies (and the very existence of the boy, too, was nothing but a lie). Whatever relations his brother and the blond-haired brat had shared once Oz returned stemmed from falsity. If only Vincent could get Gilbert to understand that Gil's love had been warped and misplaced in a whelp who never deserved it….

He wanted to appeal to his brother's higher senses and not use the base compulsion for loyalty that was instilled within all Baskervilles. He wanted to remove Gil from his brainwashing, now that he had no need to pander to it anymore. Yet, with the Baskerville Heir watching in the room, Vincent had no idea how to get the truth across.

Better to pander to that forced compulsion, for the moment, and secure Gilbert's loyalty, and then after, later, when they could be alone…

Vincent's heart ached at the thought. After all these years of deception to save his brother, he wanted to stop lying for once.

He sat on the bed. "Gil," he whispered. "Master has come to accept your forgiveness."

Gil retreated to the furthest corner of the mattress, not even looking in his direction. Raw, torn blisters lined his wrists from the hours of being tried with rough ropes, and his clothes were in complete disarray. Gilbert reached down to yank the sheet up and wrap it around him. Both of them pretended not to notice that Gilbert huddled in a desperate attempt to hide his fading erection, or the mingled scents of sex and Lotti's perfume that lingered in the air. "Who?"

"Master Leo, brother. We serve him."

If Vincent could guide Gilbert to that certain headspace, Gil could be saved. He saw it happen before, when Gilbert had visited him and his compulsions provoked him to scream how he'd kill anyone to protect his master. Vincent needed to tap into that desire to do anything for his most beloved person once more.

"I... I don't-"

He had to be careful. Did Gilbert want to be touched? Vincent took a chance and eased his fingers against the curve of his spine. "Brother has to stay loyal," he said, as a tension between fear and threat entered his voice. "Master Leo wouldn't like it if Gil betrayed him. Like he had betrayed Master Glen."

How easily Gil slipped into his replies; he was typically so curt and grumpy in Vincent's presence. Maybe Lotti had shaken Gil up more than Vincent wanted to admit. "I didn't betray anyone," came the whisper.

"Yes, you did. You strayed and never searched for your comrades, did you? Instead, you became the plaything for Oz Vessalius, even after you realized Jack lived inside him."

"I'm not…"

"Hush, brother, Master isn't angry. He knows you simply made a mistake."

"A mistake…" His dark hair hung in curling tendrils over his eyes as he met Vincent's.

"Vince," he said, "I remember… but there's so much…"

He extended his hand. "Brother, come here." Gilbert stared, not making a move.

"Your wrists," he pointed out gently. "They're chafed. Let me put something on for them."

No response.

Is big brother afraid of me? Why are you afraid? There's no reason. Everything I do is for you, don't you understand?

A smile graced Vincent's features. Sincere. Soothing. Kind. Gilbert had to remember how he could be all those things for him. Despite these lies. "I never wanted to see you hurt," he confessed.

"I got hurt no matter what you did," Gilbert replied sharply, facing away. Vince paused, dropping the pretense as Gilbert continued, "And it'll only become worse, won't it? I'm sick of these games. I-I won't stand for them."

"Gil-"

"Give me the salve. I'll put it on myself."

"Gil shouldn't be embarrassed," Vincent pointed out. "Lotti was the slut that used him."

The hunch in his spine deepened as Gilbert hugged himself. "Don't."

"We shouldn't pretend this didn't happen," Vince said softly. In an even quieter tone, barely above breathing: "She's a bitch and always has been. I don't think Leo allowed her to do what she did."

"R-really…?"

Vincent used Lotti's anger and frustrations to his advantage. An old interrogation tactic, he recognized from Pandora: the good officer, bad officer routine. Vincent found it calming to find himself on the good side.

"Shhhh, but we don't need to talk about her anymore. Please, Gil, give me your wrists." Again, he offered his open palm, but didn't move any other part of his body any closer. A safe distance.

Carefully, Gil grasped Vincent's hand, child-like. Vincent recalled all of the times Gilbert had blown gently upon a scrapped knee or wrapped up a scratched elbow after roughhousing. Protective and kind, that was all he was toward Vince, before his mind became tarnished and those memories sunk to the depths of his thoughts.

Now, Vince was the one who soothed his brother's wounds, mentally and physically. He took the salve from the side table and fresh wrappings. He rubbed the circumference of Gil's wrists in an even, circular motion, his forefinger pressing slightly to feel the racing of his brother's pulse.

Gilbert, head lowered, made not a single gesture to indicate any reaction to Vincent's caresses as he tended to one wrist, then the other. Soft, clean cloth enfolded them both, and afterward, Gil let his wrists drop into his curled lap. Any sign of his previous arousal was masked by the rumpled folds of the sheet and Vincent wondered, achingly, what his brother was feeling.

"There," he said lightly. "Does big brother feels better?"

"Yes. Thanks." Casting his glance downward through lowered eyelids, Gil's face retained that slight blush from their touch.

Vincent eased closer to Gil's side until he brushed against the outside of Gil's hip.

"Vince, why is Leo here-?"

"Master Leo," Vincent corrected. "Why shouldn't he be? He's only your Master." Slowly, Vincent sat propped up with his legs stretched out before him, making sure to place his right arm on the bedspread behind Gilbert.

"But he's sitting there. What does he-?" Gilbert must have realized how foolish he looked not to ask outright and said in a louder voice, "Leo, why did you bring me here?"

"Please." Vincent gripped Gilbert's knee through the bedsheet, causing Gilbert to face him, eyes widening. "Don't be so rude. You are his servant. You should know better."

"But, it's just Leo. I-I-"

"You're a Baskerville. We have to obey, brother." Vincent had the upper hand in this situation: after all, he was not one of the Baskerville-possessed, cursed to obey every word from their sacred leader. He edged closer to Gilbert and let his fingers splay over his brother's knee, before starting to message it. "You can't disappoint him again, Gilbert. Like you did with Master Glen."

"Master Glen…" he recalled, the sorrow in his voice an anchor in Vincent's chest. "I never meant to leave him…."

"You didn't. You're loyal. You've only acted in the name of loyalty." Vincent's left hand traveled upwards, pressing into the firm muscle through the layers of cloth and clothing. The movement made Vincent angle himself toward Gilbert until instead of sitting side-by-side, his body gathered around his brother. Gilbert, consciously or not, sank back into a supine position, letting Vincent's right arm snake around his bowed shoulders. Soon, Vincent was spooning his brother on the bed as he continued to talk, rubbing circles above his knee. "Big brother never wanted to hurt his master. You shouldn't feel ashamed or guilty."

A necessary seduction. A means of sacrilege in order to seek redemption. He wasn't going to cause his brother any more pain. A part of Vincent knew he was being selfish, so very selfish, but he yearned for relief. To grasp for everything before utter extinction.

Gilbert's gaze locked onto his as he responded, his voice becoming fainter as he continued his affirmations. Whether Gilbert was reacting to his touch or to his words, Vincent couldn't be certain. "Yes. Vince, you're right. I'm not… I shouldn't… feel guilty."

"Because Master Leo is going to forgive you for failing Master Glen."

"Master… is… going to forgive me…"

"Yes, he'll forgive all of your misdeeds."

Vincent watched as sweet relief seeped into his brother's expression. That old mind-control was triggered; Gilbert regressed to that basic set of commands that had been implanted in his head. Gilbert would serve his master. He would please his master. Only by pleasing his master would he gain any sense of self-worth.

And even when your mind is torn and broken, I will embrace you, Vincent thought. I will nurse these fragments of yourself and give you whatever joy I can.

The next words came slowly, patiently, as Vincent watched the transformation grace his brother's troubled features, taking away all of the grief and replacing it with blissful release.

"Master wants you to swear your loyalty again."

"I… I will swear my loyalty."

"Master wants you to obey his every command."

"I will obey his every command."

"Master wants you to reject everything of the Nightray house."

"I reject everything of the Nightray house."

"And dedicate yourself, mind, body, and soul, to the Baskervilles."

"And dedicate myself…" Bright awareness flickered in Gilbert's dulled expression. "Vince, I never cared about the Nightray title. I… Master understands that, right?" Gilbert said, urgently. "I only wanted to save-" A road block. Gilbert rolled onto his side, breaking Vincent's hold. Golden eyes clenched tight.

Oz. The brat.

Gilbert uttered the abomination's name. The shadow of Oz Vessalius haunted his brother and he repeated, voice raw, "I left Oz. I left-"

"Shhhh…" Vincent guided his brother into his arms again, though Gilbert continued to face the wall. Vincent wrapped his hands entirely around him, his silk gloves feeling the heat of Gilbert's bare chest, his hips aligned against Gilbert's own. But despite their bodies being in touch, Gilbert's mind struggled far from Vince, torn over that ridiculous, stupid rabbit. "Oz Vessalius was never your master."

"Oz-"

"Is a sin. You know this. His very existence is a sin." Like mine, brother, but you hold no such feeling in your heart for me.

A strange hiccupping noise escaped Gil's lips. "I only wanted to stay by his side."

"I understand. But Oz is your mistake."

Gilbert argued, "He's not, he's Oz, and I-"

"Don't let the sin tempt you," Vincent said fiercely, holding him closer as his brother tried wiggling out of his grasp. I will drive this demon out, I will banish all thoughts of this monster from your head, Vincent thought determinedly, firmly locking his arms around Gilbert.

"He is your sin. Oz is your sin, your curse. Forget him. Master wants you to forget."

A wild cry. Gilbert gripped Vincent's forearms, head bending forward, legs kicking out.

"Shush, shush," Vincent bore Gilbert's thrashing; roughly, he managed to roll Gil flat onto the bed and held him down using his body, clamping Gil's arms to his sides. "Brother, brother-"

Gilbert wouldn't look at him. As if he was the monster. Stuttering sobs escaped Gilbert's lips. "I'm- I'm sorry," he hiccupped.

For what? To who? It didn't matter.

"It'll be all right," Vincent assured. "Please don't be sad. Master Leo understands. He is all-forgiving."

Several minutes passed as Vincent lay on top of Gilbert, restraining him as Gil continued to murmur and sob into Vincent's shoulder. Again and again, Vince said the words, "Oz is your sin. Master Leo forgives you. Oz is your sin. Master Leo forgives you," until the very syllables seemed to blend and lose meaning.

xxxxxxx

A slow throbbing inside Gilbert's head began, born from the strain of emotion that came from lack of air, from deep, wretched sobbing that yanked the air out of the lungs, from clinging too tightly, fisting against the sheets, from the pressure of Vincent's body – too hot – on top of his ragged, half-clothed self…

And with the pulsating pain there seemed to be another Gilbert inside the Gilbert who sobbed, questioning the plague of feelings that stormed across the ruins of his mind.

"I… I didn't mean to leave him…" (Leave who?) "…I-I-I didn't want to fail anyone…" (Oz… Glen… Leo…Elliot?) "I only… I-I- tried so hard, so very hard and it… I don't…I had to… I…" (What? What? What? Do you even know? Do you even know the truth?)

A vision (a memory) of an old woman (an enemy), her bone-thin fingers stabbing at his forehead and Gil is only a child…

(See the truth, see the truth, and stop this stop this stopstopstopstop)

"Oz is your sin."

A cough, a gag. "Oz… is my sin…"

(See the truth, you're better than this, you're more than this, you're)

Whispers of breath and the cadence of the crone's creaking voice: "Do not forget this… and bear this in mind…"

"Master Leo forgives you."

"Think for the Master…. Do your best for the Master…"

"Oz is your sin."

(Gilbert listen to me, listen to me, this is me, I am you, we have to fight, to fight to)

That adamant voice, that second Gilbert, was smothered by the twining recitations of the crone's incantation and his brother's lulling mantra.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

Gilbert's voice came out in a rush, low and hoarse as the confession spilt out in a torrent of damning words: "But his head was in my hands and I never knew, I never knew the truth, does Master understand this, I never knew, it wasn't my fault, oh please let him forgive me, forgive me, forgive me-"

"Master Leo forgives you."

Waves of grief washed over Gilbert to the point of nausea. His limbs grew slack, his head reeled onto the pillows, weighed down as if by some invisible force. His voice dried up and withered in this throat, too exhausted to carry the confession on any further. Gilbert became aware of Vincent looming over him, suspending himself over Gilbert as he rolled onto his side and let the sobs rock through his tired, injured body.

Oz is my sin, he thought, and the agony was rooted not over any feeling for Oz, but that of a parishioner's sense of betrayal against a higher being, even as he was performing contrition before the priest.

The sheer emotional toll began to wear upon him. He wanted to curl up and sleep.

Vincent stroked the remaining tears from Gilbert's cheeks and trailed a tip along the bottom of one swollen eye. "Be at peace, dear brother…."

xxxxxxx

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"I'm sorry, Leo."

Final words. A plea.

Leo witnessed Gilbert's confession in silence, letting the remorseful words slam against him like an oncoming wave, and Leo, helpless, floundering, was swept into a turbulent mental ocean of memory. The phrase triggered a moment of sitting in a darkened room and hearing the snip snip snip of Vincent's scissors…

"I'm sorry, Leo."

Elliot shouldn't be sorry, Leo thought bitterly. He should never be sorry.

And when Gilbert screamed it was as if Leo was screaming too, but at the same time it was also Elliot's not-scream: the suffering, stilted silence of that still-warm body, drenched in blood over the hard stone floor.

"…forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, forgive me…"

There was a crease in the back of the white suit coat of Elliot's school uniform, caused by the way the young Nightray thrust his bent elbows back as he kicked over tin canister by the parlor fireplace where the ashes of dead fires were stored. They had just returned to the Nightray manor upon hearing the latest attack from the Headhunter. Two servants had died during this incident, and Gilbert instantly packed up and left the manor the very next day.

Black dust and soot poured out over the wooden flooring and Elliot cursed, "He's a coward, Leo! Vincent said that Gilbert left the manor because of the Headhunter!"

The fall as Elliot collapsed onto the divan and put his head in his hands. "Vincent said Gilbert didn't want to be a Nightray anymore…"

Ever since then, whenever the topic of Gilbert came up, it was always coupled with a new round of disappointment. Gilbert moved to a disgraceful part of town of ill-repute, refusing the Duke's money. Gilbert discarded all markings of nobility, running around like a homeless tramp in a trench coat. Gilbert vowed to serve as a valet – a lowly valet – to a Vessalius boy.

Leo read the concern and disappointment between the anger of Elliot's words. Gilbert was being a fool. Gilbert disgraced the family. Gilbert never appreciated the value of his rank.

And then there was Vincent, off in the corner, in consoling agreement. "Big brother doesn't understand, Elliot." "I'm sure Gilbert will stop by the manor soon, Elliot." "Yes, my brother can be quite preoccupied over such unimportant things."

One adopted brother had spurred Elliot's rage, but the other one fed it, causing the rift that Elliot ached to cross but could not because of stupid pride.

Leo, in the first blooms of love, disregarded Elliot's complaints about Gilbert and the sly words from Vincent. In his own way, Leo attempted to make amends, trying to show him that, perhaps, there was something more to the Vessalius boy that warranted Gilbert's loyalty. That was why, upon discovering Oz's identity as the Vessalius noble, Leo offered him a handshake and later assured Elliot that perhaps there was more to the young boy than he assumed.

But the result of all of this? In the end, did it matter? No, because Oz wasn't even human but a tool used by Jack Vessalius. The thing probably never had real emotions to begin with. So Gilbert had dedicated himself to nothing, and Vincent had fostered Elliot's hatred over nothing, and Leo tried making Elliot befriend nothing and even love was nothing, nothing, nothing-

"Master Leo forgives you…"

No. Leo wanted to yell. No, I don't forgive you, Gilbert, you bastard. No, I'll never forgive you, or your lying brother for anything! I will make you suffer for love like I did, I will make you realize what it means to lose everything, and I will. Never. Forgive.

The thought made his whole body tremble. His fingers gripped the curved ends of the chair he sat in. Outrage over this cheap, provoked groveling began to ferment in the boy's glistening eyes.

Suffer and weep, pathetic idiot, Leo thought as Gilbert curled up on the mattress. Vincent murmured soothing words and Leo wanted to slap them out of the blond's mouth. Manipulative whoreson. You claim to serve me, but I know you want to serve your cretin of a brother instead, the one who hurt Elliot so much and never even realized the extent of such hurt because he was obsessed over that abomination….

xxxxxxx

Feeling his brother's sounds reduce to a mere panting of breath and occasional sniffle, Vincent clambered off of Gilbert and took a clean rag from the table to wipe his face. How broken and terrible they have all become, lying cold in a bedroom haunted by memories and despair.

After the tears were wiped away, Gilbert's face retained a blank expression directed toward the canopy drapery. Vincent trailed a hand upon his cheek. His brother, who had been strong and pure and noble as a child, who saved him from so much and suffered throughout the years, was reduced to this, weeping for a boy who was never a boy at all, clinging to the rules branded into his mind. Gilbert became nothing but a doll that so many people played with until he broke. It wasn't fair; Gilbert had been so much better.

This is all my fault. If Vincent never existed at all, Gilbert would never have had to leave the sunshine…

Hesitantly, a question.

"What did Master Leo forgive you for? I…I don't understand. Why are you serving him?"

To become nothing, Vincent answered silently.

"Master Leo absolves the wicked." A sad smile as Vincent lay down on his side next to his brother and grasped a lock of his hair. "All I want is never to leave my brother's side," he lied, curling the midnight strands between his fingers.

"Since I'm a Baskerville," Gilbert said, his voice sounding almost wondrous.

"Yes," Vincent affirmed. He glanced up and saw Leo's scornful look.

The boy had his fists pressed against the armrests of the chair. Vincent caught the wash of color over Leo's cheeks, a malicious glint in those magnificently-colored eyes. Was it caused by rage? Grief? Lust?

A vicious rasp. "Ruin him."

Vincent protested. "He swore."

"I didn't hear it." A sheen of cruelty graced Leo's lips. "Gilbert," he said smoothly.

"Master?" Gilbert sat up immediately and started to scramble off the mattress.

"Stay there," Leo barked. The man froze.

"Vincent." Leo cocked his head to the side, a crooked smile curling alongside his face. "Make him ours."

For a brief moment, Vincent wanted to reject his command. Ever fiber of his heart throbbed against this. Vincent glanced at his brother, who had become so damaged from his trauma. Anything else and his brother would become more than broken, Vincent feared. Push a bit further and Gilbert would cease to be Gilbert entirely, not even shards of himself but only the dust and ashes of a man….

No, Vincent didn't want to do this.

Vincent tightened his hold on Gil's arm, easing him onto his back. "Master…?" Gilbert whispered. "What does he want?" He looked at him with wide, golden eyes. Eyes that scrambled for anything to hold onto, anything to trust, because Gilbert didn't even trust his own thoughts anymore. How innocent, how dear that tiny flicker of hope was in Gilbert's eyes.

A hollow reply. "Only for you to please him."

To himself, Vincent justified: No matter what I do to you, it wouldn't matter in a little while. We are so close to attaining the Will of the Abyss, and once that is done, everything will revert to the way it should have been: without me.

He had to believe in Leo's promise. Vincent had to have faith in his inevitable extinction.

That was the only way he could even…

The tangled sheet covering Gilbert came away by Vincent's gentle hand. The front of Gilbert's trousers remained undone, the waistband slipping down those smooth, narrow hips. A few strands of fine hairs danced in a trail from the base of his navel to down beneath his drawers. Vincent's eyes rested on that spot, and then rose up, slowly, along his chest to meet his older sibling's gaze.

The hope spluttered away, replaced by anxiety. "Vince?"

"Shush, big brother," Vincent whispered. "He commands this." A firm hand followed the path his eyes had made and Gilbert's breath hitched as Vincent leisurely pressed his lips to the hollow of his collarbone. Gasping, Gilbert arched his neck to expose all of that delicate flesh for Vincent to taste.