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Warning

This fiction contains yaoi or male/male relationships. If such things make you squeamish or you disagree then I suggest you leave now. You have been given proper warning and all flames concerning such will be promptly laughed at or ignored. And if you want to know my private opinion on the matter go ahead and send me an email you might be surprised by what I would have to say. As for the rest of the reviewers, you are cherished for what you are. Thanks!

Yours truly,

Skeyeta

Malebolge

There is a place in Hell called Malebolge…

Defeat. The words rang in his head like a monotonous bell, a tower striking the toll of midnight, the end of day and the beginning of darkness. And in the horrible reality a stark, fragile wisp of hope threaded throughout his mind. He could not help but feel a little relieved the war had past and with it his purpose in life. He was alone; in all his life he would always be alone.

Midnight blue eyes fixed on the dusty, worn village, pale, sickly yellow adobe houses lining the dirt-paved street. The village was a sparsely populated town, only numbering 2,385 people in all and the one word to describe the village in its entirety was homely. Curious tan faces, peering out from windows, stopping to mutter a brief hello, a cheery smile, and a frantic pumping wave. It disgusted him. This place had not changed for as long as he could remember. He had been a boy then, haunted with nightmares, the dying pleads of mercy lingering on his tongue as he remembered the fateful day his parents were taken away from him in the grim, steel claws of death. Red claws to be exact, Ambient's claws.

This place was not home, he had no home, nor was it where everything had begun. It was not the place his parent's lives were ripped away from him. No, it was the place a savior had taken him. A savior who died for this very, pathetic village, a pointless village filled with ungrateful, sniveling beings. A savior who was forgotten in the war that followed his death and the countless conflicts that destroyed lives, not his life though, his life had already been destroyed. He had died when his parents had he had died at the hands of that cursed red organoid. And in his death he had killed many, walking the soil as a living embodiment of destruction. And so his feet, scuffed boots and thin socks, had brought him here. The place his savior took him as a boy, the place where he would start his life over again, to beg for forgiveness and redemption from a grave.

Meager blades of grass flecked the hill in dots of green, a lone tree towered over a gray slab of stone atop the hill, dark mossy branches thick and formidable daring any disrespectful party to trespass. His feet padded softly as he made his way up the hill, loose rocks tumbling down the hill from his footfalls. He stopped, three feet away from the immense stone that would be passing his judgment. His knees gave way, and he crouched down, hands bracing the ground, fingers curling around the thin blades of grass, dirt embedding in his nails. Black hair swung in front of his face, veiling his eyes from view.

Chalk white words were engraved into the cold, marble stone stating the deceased.

Dan Freiheit

A beloved husband and father,

May you rest in peace.

His pale, slender fingers traced the indented words, his soft voice filling in the silence, adding the rest to the tombs words, "A savior of a little boy who could not be saved." He shook his head, tendrils of dark hair swinging, "They don't remember you. Your death didn't matter, you have changed nothing!" A soft, hoarse laugh escaped his lips, "And I am a fool, asking the forgiveness of a dead man." He shuddered and closed his eyes; long eyelashes closing like the wings of a butterfly, "Can you forgive me? The one you saved who has killed and helped destroy the dream you fought for. Can you still forgive me?"

"Yes."

Raven tensed, whirling around towards the sound of the voice. His eyes widened and he crouched in a defensive position. His face betrayed nothing, his voice calm and slightly suspicious, "Van."

The other boy nodded, short ponytail bobbing and dark brown bangs splayed across the tan skin of his forehead, "I forgive you."

Raven's eyes narrowed and he stood up slowly, cautiously, taking a step back, ready to attack or flee at a moments notice. His voice was curt, "Why?"

Van smiled, a disconcerting look, open and holding no malice, "Why not? It's pointless to keep fighting and I remember him. He would forgive you too. So I will give you forgiveness in his place."

Raven's voice was harsh and grating, "What gives you the right to put words in his mouth?"

Van's expression softened slightly, a sad smile lining his lips, "He was my father." Whatever scornful remark Raven was preparing to say was torn from his mouth, and he stood in contemplative silence. It wasn't supposed to be this way; he should not have been forgiven. He wasn't suppose to be granted redemption from this naïve little boy. His head buzzed with the thick tension clogging the air. Muddy brown eyes watched him and he shifted his weight uneasily, unable to look back into those pure eyes. He bowed his head, admitting defeat, "I'm sorry." He was defeated once again, when would he be granted death from the pointless cycle of life?

A sigh broke his thoughts, Van took a step toward him, "At least you've realized your mistakes, that's more than most people." His head jerked up, defiance glittering in his blue orbs, "My mistakes are my own, don't presume to know them."

"I don't." Raven nodded his assent at the comment. He looked back towards the lone grave, turning his back to Van, and began to walk away. He stumbled in surprise as a hand grabbed his shoulder. Jerking away violently, eyes murderous, he pulled his arm back ready to retaliate but stopped at the look in Van's eyes. The boy's carefree voice registered in his shocked mind, "Why don't you come eat dinner with us." Looking at Van as if he had two heads he answered skeptically, "Us?"

Van fidgeted under the cold gaze, "Yeah, Irvine, Fiona, and me. Look, the next town is far and you can get a free meal this way." He shifted uncomfortable, "As a truce." Raven glanced up sharply, it wouldn't hurt, and he didn't feel like fighting anymore, he had done enough damage. Plus, he didn't have much money, "Okay. But only because I don't have any money." The other boy stared at him with surprise and wonder before leading him down the hill to a small house.

The house, though small, was clean and nicely decorated. Cream furnishings and soft tan hues complemented the dark woodwork and spacious chairs gave the rooms a relaxed atmosphere. Small details such as cups, burnt candles, and fresh potted flowers left the house with a lived in look. He felt disturbed, unsure of what to say or how to act. He could never live in a place like this, not use to such niceties. Clearing his throat self-consciously he muttered quietly that the house looked, well, nice. Van soaked up the praise, beaming, as he began to unconsciously chatter about who added what or who made that. Raven took the seat that was offered to him, darting quick glances for any hidden objects that could be a possible threat to his own physical health and noting the doorways and exits, not to mention objects that could be used to his advantage if a fight should break out. The other boy continued on unawares before halting in his speech and shuffling his feet.

Raven looked up slowly, amused by the uncomfortable expression on the other boy's face.

"Er, maybe I should go tell the others your coming for dinner. Heh, give them some proper warning-" he trailed off, voice dimming before smiling once again and walking off into the deeper recesses of the house, a soft, trilling whistle trailing the air behind him.

Raven leaned back, cushions supporting his back, trying to appear calm. His insides were jittery; he had never been in this position before. Closing his eyes he hummed a tune his mother use to sing to him as a child. Remember, be diplomatic, be polite even if they are, no, were your enemies and could possibly still want you dead. At least this way he wouldn't be the one to start the fight. Smiling grimly he waited for the others to return.

To say dinner was an unpleasant affair was an understatement. The silence hung thick in the air, and the tension was a living thing, making the clinks of silver wear like the shrill sound of nails being rubbed down a chalkboard. The furious glare Irvine was giving him did nothing to soothe his fears of an all out bloodbath. Raven ate slowly, relishing the taste of good food, and carefully watching his drink in fear of poison. To say some people out there hated him and were willing to kill him in anyway possible was slightly wrong. A vast amount more than some people hated him; he was hunted like a dog in most villages after all the slaughters he had caused. He unconsciously shuddered.

Van looked up, surprised at the small shudder that passed over Raven's body. Without thinking he asked a very stupid question, "Are you cold?" Raven's eyes glanced up at his in surprise, for a moment unguarded, and Van carelessly mused at what a pretty color they were, especially when he didn't look as if he was slowly killing you in the most interesting ways with his eyes. A loud clunk brought him out of his musings and he vaguely noted that Fiona was staring at him slightly paler than normal with a curious expression in her eyes. Then he noticed the way she stiffened, he jumped as Irvine's chair was scooted back with a loud scrape.

"Irvine! Where are you going?" Moonbay was looking around at Fiona and Van for help while pointedly ignoring Raven's presence.

Irvine strode out of the room. Van quickly got up and followed. What happened next was anyone's guess since they had moved out of earshot. Raven stared dully at the chair where Van had been sitting before moving his gaze to the darkened room beside the kitchen. He felt a twinge of something in the back of his gut, guilt? His gaze hardened, he had nothing to feel guilty for, Van had brought him here out of his own stupidity. A fake cough made him look up. The one called Fiona was poking her food nervously with her fork and looked at him, a wan smile on her lips. He didn't move, preferring silence to petty, uncomfortable conversation. But it didn't seem as if she was to be deterred. He glanced over at the girl called Moonbay, brown hair worn in thick braids, tan, lean body-hiding muscles; he noticed her eyes were dark. She was glaring pointedly at the wooden table, her gaze confused and obviously upset about something. He let his gaze rest on Fiona, the blonde haired girl, pale skin, and bright, glistening violet eyes.

The girl, Fiona's next words stunned him, "Well, it was nice of you to join us." The small clatter a fork hitting the table made his gaze dart back to the brown haired girl who was looking at Fiona with burning, enraged eyes. Pausing, he looked at Moonbay, cleared his throat and gruffly announced, "Thank you for the food. It was, um, delicious." The other girl's dark eyes turned to him in astonishment and she stammered out a reply of your welcome, not wanting to seem rude. Well, not wanting to make herself look below him he though with amusement.

"So where did you meet Van?" He looked up startled, what was wrong with this girl. Hiding his annoyance he calmly replied, "We met a long time ago," he couldn't help ire that slipped into his voice, "Surely you remember that." She looked at him nonplussed, the infuriating smile still on her face.

"Oh, I meant today, before you got here." His eyes narrowed but he answered her anyway, not wanting to cause trouble by seeming suspicious, "At the graveyard." A smirk slipped onto his face, she couldn't hide her shock at that answer. The conversation was cut short as Van and Irvine reentered. Both sat down and started eating as if nothing had happened. He had to hide a chuckle at their behavior. Silence once again reigned in the kitchen.

He stared wearily out the window, the sharp whistle of the wind, the hiss of the sand hitting the glass, the creak of the windowpane, and the dark, rolling clouds doing nothing to improve his mood. Grimacing, cold, hooded blue eyes peered at Van, his annoyance rising. Someone in this world hated him.

He had never been attracted to anyone in his entire life, well, that was a small white lie. He had never been attracted to anyone except the infuriating, naïve little boy slouched in the couch across the room from him. He remembered the first time he saw Van, running like an idiot from Imperial guards and how, to his own amazement, he had swiftly disarmed the guards for him. He could still hear that annoying voice mocking him in their first Zoid battle, a battle he won. The first battle where he did not kill his challenger could not bring himself to kill his challenger. Van was in every way his weakness, and the exact opposite of himself. He could still hear Reese's voice, laughing, mocking him, "Opposites attract Raven. And the day you realize what you feel will be your downfall." Well, she was dead now, killed in the last battle, and in grim annoyance or unwanted acceptance the bitch had been right.

He looked back out the window, begging the gods for some respite. The sandstorm blew on, tumbling into the surrounding area unaware of his silent plea. He was stuck, stuck in this small house with him.

An annoying voice broke through his sulking thoughts, "So, um, looks like you're stuck here for the next few days." Raven looked up his glittering, cold eyes meeting warm, brown eyes. Like that thought deserved a reply. Van looked around, face remarkably gleeful and hesitant, "Um…so…what do you want to do?"

Raven snorted, yeah someone really hated him.

A/N: Well, I was going to make this a one-shot but it is now divided into 2 to 4 parts. Unsure of how long it will be. Please let me know what you think and to anyone who cares I have a Zoid site up and running (to the lovers of Raven and all unique couplings). You can find it at: http://www.angelfire.com/weird2/skeyeta/

Comments and Reviews are much appreciated! Let me know what you think!