CHAPTER 12

Date: June 21st, 110 P.A. / 2114 C.E.

Spirit's Eve…of all the nights Arei had been both anticipating and dreading, which had loomed over her head like an ax, this was the most profound of all. Marie had warned her…Craven had teased her slyly…and Byron had flushed and blabbered about what was expected of her. Perhaps it was fortunate that she could wind up heavily drugged as the twilight fell, or she might have driven herself mad with her pondering…ut such was not the case. Instead, she silently allowed her Handmaidens, a rather colorful snobby group of women, to brush out her long violet hair, to purify her body with baths filled with various herbs and scented oils, including what she would later suspect to be some sort of aphrodisiacs. At any rate, Arei sighed in the warm water as soft, slender hands preened her pale, naked body…feeling her mind turned fuzzy, her awareness and inhibitions slipped away.

Had she noticed really what was going on, she would have been very alarmed…but the entire day had led to this moment where, almost against her will, she had been used as a doll to dress up in increasingly lewd and skimpy outfits hardly befitting of any holy leaders. Fortunately, very few would see her in it, for many were away, attending to their own secret affairs and unions. Indeed, by the time night fell, many of her Handmaidens had departed, making up flimsy excuses to hide what their intentions so obviously were.

Feeling thoroughly drugged, not enough to make her stagger around, but enough to make her talk her mind, Arei began describing in detail what her body was feeling…fiery in her core, throughout her veins…an ache tightening her most unused of muscles. She felt the desire to touch someone, someone male, and so was steered clear of any who fit that description. Marie, frankly used to this type of reaction from the concoction Arei had been exposed to, lead her to Abaddon's empty quarters, wondering just what she would be doing to the girl.

She had had the rumors of course, but still…the girl she now led to a bed was a child sometimes in mind. She was getting increasingly alike to a teenager in attitude, but a pleasant one at that. What if Abaddon accepted the girl tonight? Then what? What would Arei turn into?

Marie especially pondered this when musing that no other kingdom submitted their holy figurehead to this type of ordeal. Marie had speculated that this was due to Abaddon being as humanoid as he was…and though Deoxys and Lucario were similarly human-figured, Abaddon was a neo-god like Ai, and so possessed many very human qualities. So perhaps that was silly…still, was it right, this potential union between mortal and immortal? Perhaps…for Abaddon had never shown a preference for his own race, the beasts. And if there was the slightest possibility of an heir in this manner, then they must try.

Still…was it far to Arei, to be used in this manner?

Marie did not think so…but nothing could be done about it. She was a follower, nothing more. Nothing, she knew, would change….

The woman left the girl there, only half-conscious, waiting and hoping for someone to find her and make the aching she felt cease. She felt hot, wet, open and needy…and she did not like it. Yet, she found she had little strength to wander, to try to find a way to satisfy herself. So, she lay there, drifting in and out of erotic dreaming, all the while barely understanding why. She had been purified in body for the possible union she could only share with her God…but the fact fled from her mind like logic.

Eventually, Abaddon did come…. Throughout the entire day, he had dreaded this night, for once again he knew the Priests would be arrogant enough to try to force a human female on him, placing her prepared and enticing on his bed. He recalled past years, returning to his quarters in hopes to sleep, only to be faced with a female whose purpose there was for anything else. There were times where his mood was such that he might be tempted to engage in some sort of carnal activity…however, he had always been far too disgusted by the sight of his Priestesses defiled in such manners to want to indulge in them. No matter how lascivious, he had left, turning away, sleeping somewhere else, keeping any cravings he might feel under control. For he recalled Christina well.

That night…so many years ago. She had not been heavily drugged, insisting that she needed no encouragement…that she would join with him willingly. She would teach him what physicality was…what closeness was. He recalled her, naked beneath him, her fingers probing his ever more aroused and burning form, stroking at his most intimate parts. He had reeled at that, his breathing and hers ragged when their mouths were not sealed over one another's lips. He had stroked at her slick, soft, warm body, nuzzling her corn-silk hair, her olive skin, her azure eyes staring up at him through a half-lidded gaze. They soon held one another, Abaddon awkwardly forfeiting his already eroded self-control to instinct…the joined, linked, moving together in a mix of bliss and agony, in tandem, to completion….

Afterwards, they had laid there, Christina keeping at bay her body's responses to the pain, Abaddon himself musing on the ecstasy he had experienced in the final moments of the liaison, the way it felt to dwell inside her body. The way she had arched against him, her own body shuddering as she mimicked his peak. Yes, he could see why many men savored the experience. It was indeed highly enjoyable. And yet, Christina's pain had sullied it. Her blood was not upon him. He tilted his head, gazing at her…her eyes were closed, but she was yet awake.

"So, tell me, Christina…was that love?"

It was an honest question. There was no sarcasm to his words, no mocking edge. However, as Christina heard his questioning tone, she laughed, bitterly and amused.

"Oh no, Abaddon…that wasn't love at all. It was a physical high, nothing more. You see, I don't think you can love. I don't think you possess the capacity! You don't have the type of heart required…you could never care about anyone besides yourself. I think this proved it."

He thought on that…and a part of him, even knowing how valid her words were, was not entirely pleased…but he merely smiled. "You are quite brave, human. Tell me, if you will, why then did you allow me to share this night with you?"

She sat up, shivering from the chill. "Why? To teach you a lesson, I suppose. Of what you shall miss…that those who have you do it out of pity. Something along those lines."

"You remind me of Goddess Mew. Such a shame you cannot speak with her. I'm sure you'd try to take me down if you could."

She grinned. "Maybe. I guess we'll have to see."

He chuckled. "You are an intriguing woman, Christina. I can heal your pain, if you'd like."

"No. I will grin and bear it. Though I must say, you offer just proves my point again."

This confused Abaddon. "What do you mean?"

Her eyes met his. "…If you had really cared, you would have healed me without asking…while inside me, I suspect. If you had cared, I would not have shed blood on your bed."

Indeed…she would not have….

Presently, Abaddon had no desire to enter his own room…he did not wish to see Arei displayed out before him like some succulent dish to taste. She was so innocent, so like a child…that see her dressed up as a very adult creature sickened him, as wrong as putting Ai into a whore's outfit. Sighing, he entered, hoping this once that his Priestess had been spared this humiliation. She was so young…and though he knew her history all too well, the idea of her engaged in lustful yearnings did not appeal to him.

Yet enter he did…and was left staring at the being who had taken Arei's place. The very physically mature being was sprawled out on his bed, the flickering firelight of candles accenting the smooth softness of her skin, her hair lush about her shoulders. Her clothes were rather skimpy, transparent, a wrap about her waist and breasts, no more. Both looked as though they could be torn off with ease. He observed the gentle rise and hall of her full chest, how her skin was slightly flushed, her red lips parted…her long legs slightly open, the fabric almost hinting at a peek of her more intimate parts. The shadowing above her eyes gave them an exotic quality, bringing out the fire that burned within them…he felt his skin heat, gazing at her.

Seeing him, she sat up, the top unfolding, falling away, the area between her legs fully exposed to his eyes. It was enough to make him freeze, to make his gut twist beneath his belly, a know of desire coiled and tight. The blood rushed to his face, his head…he backed away fleetly, ordering her to lie back down, not to follow him…though it came out as a growl, harsh and unkind, strained with craving. He left before he could taint her, do anything to her he'd regret…she was innocent in soul right now. No need to change that.

He found Byron on the stairwell, and took him by his robes, slamming his against the wall…his breath was coming annoyingly fast. "Damn you all! Attendant, that is a child in there, and while her body may be mature, her soul is not! I will not sully that girl…so get her into some decent clothing and into her own bed to sleep off the drugs."

The man seemed more perplexed than alarmed, and nodded…a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. That would have infuriated the God, save for he felt too bothered and frenzied to be concerned with his servant's pleasure in his evident anger. He left the man then, going back to his quarters, to his vast bathroom…the cold waters and tiles working wonder on his heated form…quenched any lust he might have felt for Arei, who, in some people's eyes, was apparently not a child…indeed, each month, did she not bleed? Oh, how she'd panicked to him that first time…before he'd directed her to Marie for the knowledge she sought.

And then, gazing in the mirror, he saw why Byron had been amused. For Abaddon, too, bled. His muzzle was smeared with it, a trickle from his nose.