- Title - The Angel's Fallacy
- Author - Chronos Mephistopheles
- Note - This story is based off a wonderful picture by nijunni called The Angel's Fallacy. Go look at the gorgeous picture and give nijunni your praise! The prologue is also written by nijuuni, so don't praise me for it! I've modified the beginning a little bit, so that's the reason I reposted the prologue with the oneshot. I'm sorry.
- Pairing – AkuRoku
- Rating – T for Teen
- Warnings - MxM, shonen-ai, cursing, hints of smex, and it is my first ever pure AkuRoku. I hope you all enjoy.
- Prologue –
The Book of Sora Called
Origin
1 The world is divided, a landscape of both beauty and beast. As Angels, we must only walk the steps of those born of sacred hearts. We must stray from the style of the wicked.
2 Reapers are the fading and the forgotten, damned to walk the earth and feared upon by the eyes of the living, damned to harvest life, hearts--all without remorse, and damned to remain as empty souls void of love and compassion with no other possession than a wicked skull.
3 We are not Reapers. We are Angels. We are the saints to lead the future to the Doors to Light, and so must seek guidance from our beloved, wise priests, and the scripts of the Words of Angels.
4 Priests are blessed with a forgiving nature, with strength to resist the darkest seduction, and with wisdom to nurture the gift named Purity. Priests are courageous, with the bestowed task of lighting the path to divinity with the Cross chained to the heart.
5 Never will the two worlds twine as one.
6 Never will the 'hearts' of Reapers be granted the gift of love.
7 Love will never come to those who have sinned.
Thus saith the Angels.
- End Prologue -
- Begin story -
Night. Of the darkest night. Shadows creep in the darkness, lights a tiny flicker; barely scaring it away. A church, of the gothic era, stood in the dark. Of oversized proportions stained glass windows barely glinting in the shadows, a large towered church bell in the center. Inside, the pews were of solid oak, the floors marble and alabaster. Small pillars lined the edges, casting shadows on the detailed oil painted walls. Seraphim, cherubs, and innocent children watched the priests and faithful followers of the church. A huge painted heart resided in the center of the domed roof.
Farther in the church were cemented walls, bland, dull, lifeless. Doors were nonexistent in the back, priests have no privacy. There were twelve rooms, eleven priests. The empty room connected directly to the main hall; candelabras and candles lined the thin wood shelves. Each candle symbolized someone dear to the church; each flickering flame recognized keeping the passed in everyone's thoughts.
The church worshipped Kingdom Hearts and the seven princesses, symbolizing the seven virtues: Aurora as Love, Cinderella for Temperance, Snow White as Faith, Alice as Justice, Jasmine for Courage, Belle for Prudence and Kairi as Hope. The stained glass windows depicted the princesses, beautifully realistic. According to the Words of Angels, the seven princesses were protected by the angels, seraphim, holy knights, Keybearers. These keybearers were what mortals strived to be: to accept themselves for whom they are and when they pass, maybe they could be an angel too.
But if one turned away from themselves, denied what they were, that person became a Reaper; a being without emotion harvesting the hearts of those who are just like themselves. Reapers are described as young boys, generally dressed in overly large black cloaks carrying top heavy scythes. Each mortal was controlled by their heart, like a puppet. The heart strings dictated a person's actions and reactions. The Reaper's scythe acted as a pair of scissors, cutting the heart strings and stealing the very object that kept the puppet alive. If one was pure, the heart was returned to Kingdom Hearts and possibly gifted another life. If one was corrupt, the heart was destroyed and the puppet body became a Reaper.
One Reaper wandered the Church That Never Was; this Reaper was one of the oldest and wisest of them all. The mortals referred to him as Roxas, the Alter of Sora. Roxas was cold, lifeless, ruled only by reason and the whim of stealing hearts. In pictures painted along the walls, Roxas was pictured with unruly light brown hair, almost blond and a small stick like frame carrying a scythe two times his size. The Words of Angels claimed that once your heart had been chosen by a Reaper, the Reaper became visible to you. This belief was proven when Ansem the Wise barely escaped Roxas's scythe twenty years before hand and survived to paint a portrait of the Reaper.
The man proceeded to remove himself from the church, leaving the thirteenth room empty and free for the Reaper's use. And Roxas used it. There were times when the priests would wander toward that last room and see a flutter of the curtains in the closed window, or the bed sheets would be ruffled and wrinkled.
One who frequented the Thirteenth room was Axel, an eighteen year old priest with large ambitions that usually led him into sin. Axel wore the obligatory robes, a large contrast to his hedgehog-esque fire red hair. His form was long and thin, mimicking the descriptions of Reapers. The young priest would sit in the room with the Words of Angels at hand and read scripts aloud.
It was the middle of the week where Axel found himself sitting on the bed once again reading from the Words. Whispering Scripts to himself, a black shape appeared in the window. Acid green eyes flickered up toward the window, not seeing anything there but the beginning hues of sunset. Shrugging it off, Axel leaned back onto the bed, springs squeaking, random spikes brushing against the plain white walls.
"I would appreciate it if you move." The voice was young, sounding like the voice of a fifteen or sixteen year old boy. Axel shot up in the bed, the springs squeaking, and slammed the Words shut. His eyes scanned the area, not seeing anything but the plain walls of the church and the now opened window.
Axel pocketed the Words in his robes, standing to his full height. "Who is there?" The bed squeaked, and Axel turned to glance at the bed. He could feel his eyes widen as he noticed a divot in the mattress. There was something there. Something his mortal eyes could not see. "Are you a Reaper?"
"Maybe," the voice gave a chuckle; the sound had no feeling, almost forced. "But don't worry; I'm not interested in your heart." The divot spread, the Reaper probably lay down. "You're not far enough gone."
"Gone?" Axel moved to sit on the bed, next to the shape; his mind was screaming at him, get away, get away! It's a Reaper. Reapers kill people like you. Standing at the edge, Axel could almost see the figure of the resting Reaper.
"Consumed by darkness or dying." The voice was very nonchalant, "But don't worry Priest, I don't have to retrieve yours for a while."
Axel knelt by the bed, watching the bed shift as the Reaper probably turned his head toward the priest. "Are you…?"
"Your wise man named me Roxas."
"Roxas," Axel murmured, closing his eyes. "Do you look like that –"
"Painting in the hall?" Another forced laugh, Roxas scoffed. "Ansem over exaggerated my blade. It's miniscule compared to it." The Reaper sat up in bed, the sound of springs and metal scratching against concrete greeted Axel's ears. A faint pitter patter made its way to the window once again, the curtains moving out of the Reaper's way.
Axel watched as Roxas slipped out the window and the invisible force closed the glass.
.:.:.
The next day Axel awoke to the sound of sobs echoing in the hall. Quickly the teen dressed and rushed to the pews. Rows and rows of church supporters sat, all praying to the Princesses. Some bawled, others supporting one another as they wept, but most howled toward the heavens. Spotting a fellow priest, Axel fell in line. "What happened?"
The older man, Xigbar, glanced Axel's way before leading the teen to the head priest, Xemnas. "Saix passed away yesterday, just after sunset." Axel slowed in his hurried pace, ignoring the older priest shooting glares his way. Roxas fled the thirteenth room during twilight, and Saix died sometime afterward. Roxas was the only known Reaper in the town. Roxas killed Saix. There was no doubt.
Axel stopped completely in his tracks. The Reaper spoke to him nonchalantly and less than twelve hours after killed the second highest ranked priest in the church. Either Roxas was desensitized to the death and act of killing, or the Words of Angels was honest. Reapers do not feel.
Axel pivoted in his shoes, his lithe form sneaking easily outside the large church doors. Down a dirt pathway and passed a couple log cabins, Axel found himself facing Ansem the Wise's abode. He didn't knock nor greet the man sitting in a wood chair. "Why would Roxas kill Saix?"
Ansem the Wise was almost a century old, but his loyalty to the Princesses kept him young while his body continued to age. He had the mentality of the wisest man in the world, but the body of forty-year-old. Glassy eyes met the determined gaze of a young priest, and a sigh fell from chapped lips. "Axel, why are you not mourning the loss of your fellow priest?"
Axel plopped himself down on the floor, crossed his legs, and propped his head. "How about this question: do Reapers feel?"
"You know as well as I do that the Words say – "
"I do not care what the words say." Axel's voice was sharp. "Do Reapers feel?"
Ansem and Axel's gazes met, the older man turning his eyes away. Ansem knew to pick his battles with Axel, all the citizens did. "In general I belief Reapers do not feel." Ansem reached for his copy of the Words, opening to a specific page. "However I have reason to believe Roxas does." Clearing his throat, Ansem mumbled out, "Confession 21:6. I am Alpha, he is Omega. I am the beginning, he is the end. I will freely give emotion from the spring of the water of life to the one who is thirsty or suffers in drought." Ansem closed the Words, meeting Axel's gaze once again. "Through the Angel of Twilight, Sora gave those Words to the first priests when introducing his Alter. The Words say Roxas suffers from a drought of emotion, and all who know and speak of Sora say the Keybearer is not cruel in his judgment. Roxas feels, there is no mistake of that."
.:.:.
It wasn't until Saturday that the priests saw any form of proof Roxas visited once more. Axel hovered around the thirteenth room, trying to spot any confirmation Roxas was inside before he barged in. Axel needed to talk to him. Need. The pyromaniac priest grit his teeth and stepped inside. "Roxas?"
The screech of the window lock being undone met his ears. Curtains flowed out of the way, a small tear appearing in the fabric. "Why are you here Axel?"
"Curious are you?" A hum greeted his ears, neither agreeing nor denying his possible emotion. "I have a serious question for you Roxas."
"Are you ever serious?" The voice was chiding, mimicking the sound all too well. "I don't have to answer it do I?" the Reaper questioned from his spot on the windowsill. Axel could almost see him if he squinted enough. The faint amount of shade caused by his immortal, invisible form stretched across the ripped curtain sloth.
"I would prefer it if you did." The bed squeaked and a clatter of something falling to the floor hinted at his position. "Do you really feel?" He paused before Axel caught his courage and continued. "Can you feel? Did Sora take your heart from you?"
Silence met Axel's ears. Not even the thoughtful hum was there. If Axel closed his eyes, he would think he was a soundless room, a vacuum of some sorts. Did Roxas even hear the question? His eyes floated back to the window, seeing the sun's light blanketing the dirty hole of a town. It probably hadn't changed much since the town was first founded, or when Roxas was first assigned here. The Reaper was probably bored with his not-life, stuck in the tiny lifeless town without anyone to speak with or things to do.
Axel wanted to be the one Roxas spoke with. He wanted Roxas to be able to confide in him. It was an irrational thought, an irrational thought that would lead him to his death. This was the temptation, this was the lure. Did Roxas entrap all his victims with this same curiosity? Or was it just Axel?
Axel did not know how long he stood there. It could have been minutes, it could have been an hour, but the time seemed to flow all too fast and all too slow at once. Once the oranges and yellows began to decorate the sky, Axel sighed and left the room, eyes closed in despair. The teenager retired to his room early, collapsing on the dirty gray cloth of a bed and let himself turn into a pile of teenage angsty mush. As the last vestiges of coherent thought slipped away, Axel heard the sound of springs squeaking and metal scratching against the floor before his world went black.
.:.:.
After dinner Sunday night, Axel ignored his habit of reading in the thirteenth room and lay on his bed. In his hands he played with matches and thin parchment paper. He hadn't caused fire damage to the church in almost a week. It was a record that he wanted to keep. Last time Axel set the church on fire (one of the neglected pews in the back), Ansem threatened the priest with his heart being stolen. That Roxas would not hesitate to steal from one who was so wrapped up in sin. Fire was sin. Passion was sin. Anything worth living for was sin. Axel loved to sin. Not for the fact he was sinning, but the act of it. There was a kind of adrenaline in sinning that Axel craved for at times. But the consequences were something Axel couldn't imagine. Living without feeling, without emotion. It was incomprehensible. Axel lived off emotions, that was all he had left. Emotions, fire, and the Words of Angels.
Axel sat up in bed, glancing at the hallway. There was no point in visiting the room, if Roxas was there, the Reaper wouldn't answer his questions. A god doesn't answer to a mortal.
With a huff, Axel buried his face into the bed, mentally screaming in emotional overload. If he never met Roxas, none of this confusion would have occurred. Axel would never begun doubting the Words of Angels, never begin doubting the passages of the Princesses, or the stories the Keybearers told.
A scratch sounded on the floor, slightly different than the ones Axel was used too. Axel peeked open an eye before flinging himself off the bed. Standing before him was a boy about his age with unruly brown hair, bright glowing eyes and dark robes. In his arms laid an overly large scythe. Axel couldn't help but laugh nervously. "You said Ansem exaggerated."
An upturn of the lip suggested a smile, but the rest of Roxas's face was neutral. "I lied."
"Ah." Axel's gaze watched the scythe, the hook gleaming in the fading sun.
The Reaper stepped closer to Axel, the end of the scythe scrapping against the floor, causing a horrible screeching noise. "I have something to confess." Roxas's smile seemed to widen, the look not matching his eyes. "You should have a suggestion for me. Priests are the ones with knowledge. Did Sora say in Origin 4 that priests have the task of leading us down the path of divinity?"
Axel nodded his head slowly, not following Roxas's train of thought. The Reaper let go of his scythe, the sound of metal crashing on the ground met his ears. Some part of Axel wondered why no one else could hear that. The thought fled when Roxas knelt before him, eyes glittering with something Axel had never seen before. Was that? Did Roxas feel? The Reaper climbed into his lap, the feeling was like ice, a large block of ice sitting on him, arms wrapped around his neck sent his nerve endings on fire. It was cold.
Cold breath reached Axel's ear, sending shivers and tingles down his spine. "I think I'm feeling something. Don't you?" Roxas pulled away just enough to meet the red head's gaze. The glance wasn't for more than a second before icy lips enveloped Axel's in a kiss.
Axel could only sit in shock. Roxas, a Reaper, was kissing him? How… different. Axel adapted to the cold feeling, ignoring the warning shivers down his spine as he closed his eyes and deepened it. The Reaper tensed in his arms and groaned when the priest pulled him closer. Thin hands, calloused from the scythe, buried themselves in ruby locks and tugged.
This was wonderful. Axel had never felt this feeling, this emotion. What was it? Was there anything in the Words that described it? No… the scriptures could never come up with the words to describe this emotion. It nothing short of perfect. Even as the Reaper began undressing him, even as he was surrounded by ice, Axel was happy. Axel was free. Axel –
Axel felt loved.
Axel lay there in the afterglow, the pressure of Roxas resting on his form a fuzzy detail in his mind. Exhaustion was catching up to him and Axel wouldn't be awake much longer. Roxas moved, shifted; his form pushing himself off Axel and toward his robes. The Reaper dressed Axel before dressing himself, blue eyes filled once again with a different emotion.
Axel was barely able to shift his gaze to follow the Reaper. Roxas gingerly picked up his scythe, wincing slightly before meeting Axel's gaze. Twig like arms lifted the sharp heavy object into the air, the top just barely reaching the ceiling.
Roxas was going to kill him.
Axel couldn't move. His body wouldn't move. He felt betrayed, in all meanings of the word. Why would Roxas do something like that? How could he live with himself – that's right. Roxas isn't alive.
"Axel," Roxas's voice was soft, hesitant even. A complete contrast to the forced laugh of earlier in the week, "I do feel. I do." Acid green eyes widened just slightly. He recognized that emotion now. Regret. "Axel, I kill because I care."
And Roxas let the blade fall.