Notes: Navy = flashback
It was dark. Broken, bleeding ... in darkness that consumed every hope ... but there was
no hope. Not for him. A creation. Not even worthy enough to be a child.
"You are Xaren."
Xaren. How he hated the name. Unwanted, unloved, rejected ... by the only being he
considered his "parent". And that was a lie. The only one who had ever been there was
Xellos ... his creator ... his god. A cold, hateful god. His savior. To be rescued from the
Darkness ... from the hopelessness ... only to discover he had never been rescued. Xellos.
Bitterness welled up in him.
Gloved fingers tangling themselves in his hair, smiling lips raining
down kisses ... capturing his mouth, tracing his jaw, exploring, searching ... feelings and
sensations he didn't know or understand ... but felt good ... and bad ... was this love? His
savior's demands ...
Demands. Oh yes, many demands ... and he had been young ... he hadn't known what to do
when his savior, his creator, had touched or kissed him ... only known how good it
felt ... and how badly it hurt to be taken ... How he hated his savior. It was so dark ...
and he couldn't summon the power to banish the darkness in mageborn light ... couldn't even
move ... he hurt ... He would heal, though, regenerate as he was created to do.
Xellos's perfect weapon ... and perfect toy.
He lashed out at the smiling kisama, only to have his wrist broken ...
only to be beaten ... the pain ... each blow a new agony ... each strike another broken bone,
another torment ... and the Mazoku inside him laughed for joy ... and then to be taken when he
couldn't even make a sound ... couldn't even move ... and the Mazoku laughed again ...
dizzying ... his savior and his god .. how he hated Xellos ... stop laughing ...
Why didn't he come?! Why?! He sobbed, tears spilling over onto his cheeks ... he called
and called and he never answered him. He had abandoned him, rejected him ... Xaren. Unwanted
and unloved. He never cared about him, never bothered to care, left him to Xellos, to the
Darkness, left him to die ...
"He created the Darkness, Xaren."
That wasn't true! It couldn't be true! He wouldn't let it be true!
"He never wanted you, never cared about you, never needed you. You
are trash. Worthless."
Two bloods created him. Xellos ... and Zelgadis. Forbidden, delightful word.
Zelgadis. He was better than Xellos. Anything was better than Xellos. Zelgadis had to love
him, had to want him as much as he wanted Zelgadis. .... But he never came ... never ... left
him to die here in the Darkness ... because he really was Xaren.
Zelgadis, Zelgadis, Zelgadis ... he sobbed the name into the Darkness ... though it hurt
to breathe, he called ... his hope would come, his light ... He would! He had to! Zelgadis
would be his savior. Zelgadis would love him, would want him, would banish the Darkness
forever and ever.
But there was only Darkness ... and no answer ... there never was one ... Zelgadis didn't
love him ... he had left him to die ... just like Xellos said ... there was nothing but this
hell ... it'd be better if he just died ... He wanted to die. The whispers clawed at his
mind ... born of darkest blood, heir to tainted power ... he let the Darkness bear him
away ... why fight? There was nothing for him ... no Zelgadis, nothing ...
Blazing mageborn light banished the Darkness in a flash of brilliance ... leaving sparks
to dance before his eyes. Arms wrapping around him, holding, healing ... hugging him close,
soft, comforting whispers, a hand stroking his hair ... he buried his face in the tunic before
him, sobbing. And the comfort didn't leave him ... didn't vanish like a dark mirage or pain
riddled fantasy ... it was real.
He took a deep breath and the scents assailed him. The smell of stone scrubbed cleaner
than clean, of soap, of Outside, of someone who was most decidedly male ... of things and
places he had never seen or imagined ... All in the scent of the one who held him and
He forced himself to pull away, to look into the face of his savior ... ice blue eyes met
his ... curved depths filled with love. He couldn't stop himself, couldn't stop the hand that
reached out to touch the face ... to prove that is was real, that he wasn't dreaming ... and
his fingers met smooth blue skin, ran over dark stone pebbles outlining the face, tangled in
sharp lavender hair. It wasn't a dream. It couldn't be a dream. Zelgadis.
Strong, gentle fingers tilted his chin up as he was mouth was enveloped in a warm kiss.
He curled his hands in the sharp strands of Zelgadis's hair, holding his savior in place,
wishing the kiss would never end. A soft, husky whisper ... words spoken around the kiss,
around the play of their lips ...
"My own, let me take you away from here."
He broke the kiss, happiness bubbling up inside. All he could do was nod as strong arms
picked him, cradling him, carrying him away from the Darkness, away from Xellos, away from the
dark, hated room that was all he had ever known. He cuddled up to his savior, one hand
gripping the beige tunic, the other curled around Zelgadis's neck, savoring it.
And the first thing he saw was Xellos. Or it used to be Xellos ... the smiling priest's
body was there, but the sadistic torturer was not. Dead. Impaled on a stone spike, the point
driven up though the trunk of his body and through his skull ... blood staining the spike and
pooling on the ground ... the staff was lying in the blood, the stone shattered into
nothing ... he stared at the sight with wide eyes, a broad smile slowly creeping across his
features ... he looked up at his savior, a question in his eyes.
"He tried to keep me from you, my own."
The look Zelgadis gave the dead Mazoku was nothing but hatred. He snuggled up to his
savior, the happiness giving way to pure joy. Zelgadis had killed his tormentor, had did all
this for him.
Then they were on the Outside, out in the light and sun and wind. Out into freedom. He
didn't care. He didn't care where he was as long as Zelgadis held him, as long as he was with
his savior. But it was beautiful anyway, the perfect icing to the perfect cake.
He glanced up at Zelgadis ... his "cake". He smiled, pulling himself up a little,
tentatively kissing a line up his savior's neck, mouthing the stones that outlined the jaw.
Zelgadis paused ... he held his breath, desperately hoping he hadn't gone too far, that he
wouldn't be rejected or pushed away ...
Only to feel his savior's lips meet his own in a kiss, to feel soft grass under his back
as he was carefully set down, arms wrapping around him, pulling him close. His heart soared.
He hadn't been rejected. He was wanted. He was loved by his savior. His father. His
lover. He tangled his fingers in the sharp strands of Zelgadis's hair, holding his head to
draw out what had become a passionate kiss, never wanting to let go ... Zelgadis pulled
back ... for a moment he was afraid again, but the fear was banished as his savior gently
caught his wrists, kissing his palms, then trailing his tongue down the barely visible veins,
He squirmed. It felt good even though it tickled, sending fire though him, igniting the
dormant desire ... He caught Zelgadis's head, kissing him hungrily, not wanting to be parted
from his lips even for the delightful teasing ... not yet anyway ... fingers undid the clasps
of his body suit even as he undid the blood-red brooch and threw the cape away ... two pairs
of hands exploring unfamiliar curves and dancing over newly exposed planes of skin.
Lingering, passionate kisses ... the warmth of just being with his love ... the knowledge that
he was wanted and loved by the only person he had ever needed ... Zelgadis pulled him closer,
kissing him passionately, hands gliding lower ...
And his world shattered into nothing like broken glass at the light.
Faun cracked an eye as the brilliant light of the morning sun decided to hit him straight
in the eye. Swearing, he crawled out of the thicket where he had spent the night, shaking off
the last wisps of the dream.
Stop whining, Xaren.
The sobbing voice of his Other didn't silence. Instead it grew louder, screaming at
We should never have left. We should be home with our glorious Tousama.
His Other snarled at the word, conjuring up images of things that had been. Images of
their oh so glorious "Tousama". Faun choked. Then clamped his mind shut, pulling away from
He hates us, left us to die. Only Tousama cares for us. Papa never did.
His Other silenced, but the wisps of the dream faded slowly. How he hated his Other's
obsession, how his Other had made him flawed in Tousama's sight.
He glared at the stretch of road before him. He would never have to face this if it
hadn't been for Xaren. He wouldn't have to feel so uncomfortable if Xaren had just kept his
stupid dreams to himself. He was the perfected version. He was the
one for whom Tousama had intended this body, this shell. He would not allow to
Xaren to trouble him anymore. He would find their "Papa" and lay Xaren's obsession to rest
once and for all.
Still glaring, Faun stalked down the road.
Quietly in his corner of his mind, Xaren wept. With the dawning of the morning sun,
the dream had been ripped away ... his savior had been ripped away. The dream he wished would
never end had evaporated ... pretty, golden gilt over dark, shameful lies. Zelgadis had never
loved him, never wanted him, never come for him, never cared. He was as bad as Xellos ...
He had never come when Xellos had tortured and taken him, trapped him away in the
Darkness, barring him from the Light. He had never come when Xellos had created the Other
inside him, created it to destroy him. Faun was Xellos's. He was nothing and nobody's. He
wasn't even master of his own shell, trapped inside his own mind, banned forever from the
Light, forever in Darkness ... while the Other controlled him ... and worshipped Xellos with
his body. How he hated this existence. How he wished to die. To end his
nothingness and find peace. But there was no peace ... not for him. Never for him.
If only Zelgadis had come ...
Xaren sobbed, drawing around him the last quickly fading vestiges of his dream ... and
tried to forget.