Saint Seiya Fan Fiction ❯ Of Betrayal and Things Less Savory ❯ Of Betrayal and Things Less Savory ( One-Shot )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Author's Note: This is a fic I wrote when I was under a lot of stress. It contains seriously graphic images. Please, if you don't like that sort of thing, or don't want to read it right now, turn back. I will take criticism gladly, if you care to flame, I would appreciate something more constructive, but please don't say I didn't warn you. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the guy at the end, and he's not all that special. I like him, but I'm weird. The tortures are more or less mine, unfortunately, but who wants to claim those?

Of Betrayal and Things Less Savory

Seiya hadn't been feeling well all day. His temperature had been steadily rising for hours by lunchtime, and he doubted he could stomach anything. The fact that his throat was too dry to swallow anything didn't help either, so he decided he'd just go lie down. His body protested to this, but it was protesting to everything, so he ignored his aching form as he curled up on his bed, very ready for sleep. Before long, he was forced to rise, though, for his whole frame was shaking from the cold that he alone could feel.

“How do you catch a cold in Greece? During the Summer?” He whined as he curled up under his new-retrieved blanket. “And a fever no less.” He continued to mumble into his pillow, wincing each time he tossed, searching for a position that didn't obstruct his breathing. Before long, though, he found one good enough and drifted off to blissful release.

Then, he heard a soft growl. He could tell there were words and someone was trying to speak to him, but he couldn't focus on who, much less what they were saying. He tried to curl up tighter, but a strong hand ripped his covers away.

“Get. Up.” He heard a familiar, menacing voice rumble, causing him to whine incoherently as he borrowed down in the bed, hoping to find the sheets without the bother of opening his eyes. That was a mistake.

Before anything else could register, Pegasus found himself on the floor by the window, the wall behind him cracking from the impact of his body against it. His eyes went wide in surprise as he yelped as best he could with the wind knocked out of him. The figure before him swayed and split; Seiya's vision proved unable to focus. Then the young Saint's ears caught a phrase that panicked him slightly. He was underestimating his danger, of course.

“PHANTOM DEMON”

Pegasus closed his eyes again and brought his hands up across his chest in defense, but now he was falling into blackness. Someone was pounding on him mercilessly. He could make out flashes of red between attacks in the darkness.

“Marin?” He asked timidly, his head swimming as his breath was taken from him by a savage blow to the stomach. His sister's voice merely laughed as a final, especially hard kick sent him into the ground.

He lay there for several minutes, light spreading slowly above his eyes, vainly hoping the pain would subside so that he could breath again. He'd landed in sand, but it had felt like concrete. He was covered in a fine coat of it, and the grains were irritating wounds he didn't know he'd had. Roan eyes fluttered open to survey the damage as the aching muscles below them screamed. Seiya found he was covered in somewhat circular burns that had seared his skin and left his clothes in tatters. He fell back into the sand, the warm sun burning his tender skin further.

He closed his eyes to blot out the fiery orb's cruel beams and strong arms lifted him gently from the ground. He smiled at the well known, friendly embrace with relief. Shiryu would never do anything to hurt him. Then the arms began to tighten their grip. Pegasus' face scrunched in consternation as his wounds began to bleed from the pressure. Before he could say a word, he was unceremoniously dunked into a pond of icy brine. The salt stopped his bleeding, but further aggravated his burns as he gulped for air and found only water. A fine trickle of crimson had escaped him, tainting the small pool, but did nothing to warm the liquid. Strong arms drove Seiya's back against the sharp rocks at the bottom. He could feel them bite his flesh and had to resist crying in distress as two hands rammed his chest downward still, forcing what little air he had been able to hang onto to come out in a gurgled mess of pain.

Pegasus had reacted to his new situation by grabbing hold of the right hand of his friend and assailant. Seiya's legs were at first held down by the Dragon's left knee before becoming pinned beneath a rock that seemed to have crushed the youngest Saint's shins.

As the brunette's flailing grew weaker, Shiryu's left hand slowly moved upward until the Dragon had grasped Pegasus's throat in an iron grip and thrust his head back, exposing the now bruised neck. The black haired boy then took hold of his leader's brown locks with both hands, placing his knee upon the smaller boy's chest, and jumped back. Shiryu pulled him out of the water, dangerously bending Seiya's legs against their rocky constraints the wrong way. Pegasus sputtered, desperately gulping air, before being plunged downward once more. Dragon's knee replaced itself on Seiya's chest, snapping the wiry boy's breastbone and causing Pegasus to aspirate.

Pegasus coughed under water as Seiya's dearest friend began the work he'd been up to from the start. Shiryu delicately lifted Seiya's eyelids, exposing his sight to the burning salt. Then, the Dragon used his thumbs to caress the orbs. In slow, circular motions, Shiryu patiently applied pressure little by little.

Pegasus lay there, wondering why he had so suddenly been turned upon. `Shiryu would do anything for me,' He thought desperately to himself as he let his hands slacken from around Dragon's arm. `Why would he do this to me? What have I done?' He thought wildly, desperately searching for an answer while Shiryu's short nail began to dig into the side of his eye socket. He just wanted it to be over!

And, once the pressure seemed more than he could stand, and his lungs even lacked the strength to scream for air, merely pleading piteously in the back of his mind, the hands removed themselves with a final squeeze of his neck and his chest and legs were no longer compressed. He didn't even have the strength to rise to the surface for breath. He just wanted to stay where he was in the darkness.

But that wasn't to be. Metal slipped around him and lifted him gently from his would-be watery grave. He shuddered at its touch, terrified to see how this nightmare reality had altered his gentlest friend. As the chains brought him above the surface, he sputtered, coughing up a coppery mixture of water and fluids, then moaned slightly in fear at what new torture would be done him. His body ached, especially his shins which he could already feel swelling and his sore chest. It even hurt to breath, but large gulps of air were needed if he was to stay conscious and breathing at all.

Shun smiled at these audible signs that Seiya was all right. His smile grew when he heard Pegasus was afraid. Now reassured, Andromeda jerked his chains, binding his captive so tightly, it seemed to Seiya his body wouldn't be able to stand the strain. Pegasus gave a strangled cry as his wounds bled a new. Then, with a satisfied smirk, the Nebula chains were willed apart by their owner that their cargo's limbs might be pulled perpendicular to his body. Seiya screamed against this misuse as his muscles strained and tore.

“Why are you doing this to me? Shun?!” His voice was hoarse, his throat scratchy from it's earlier ill treatment and dry despite the water. The only answer he was given was the loud “crack” of his shoulders being pulled from their sockets. His hips, too, were yanked from their proper place before he was allowed to fall, Shun's laughter in his ears.

He landed upon rocks his time, his back nearly broken by the impact. He lay still, not wanting to move for the anguish of his burning joints and lungs and skin. A cool touch graced his arm, causing him to jump as it gently lifted his wrist.

“Hyoga, is that you?” Seiya asked submissively, like a dog expecting to be hit, but too hungry not to whine for a bone in hopes of some small mercy.

“Shh.” The voice was amused and familiar. Seiya sighed, almost made giddy by the soothing cold sweeping over him. His arms were arranged slightly splayed from his body, and his legs were gently readjusted for greater comfort.

Pegasus shivered slightly after awhile, and once more made a small sound of consternation before his hand was brutally twisted, snapping his left wrist. His moan of misery caused a peal of laughter from the Swan as Pegasus' arm was frozen slowly from finger to shoulder. So followed his right arm, then his legs. Once his limbs were trapped in their prison of ice, his torso was left exposed and vulnerable. Seiya, far too weak to fight back, surrendered to his doom.

Seiya's body shook violently from the cold, causing his poor, tired muscles to once more renew their entreaty. His teeth chattered so fiercely that they began to hurt. His eyes watered, crystalizing his lashes. Piercing pain in his lower chest brought soothing warmth as his blood flowed over his side. Tears streaked his stretched and frozen face, melting the sheen of blood that had frozen there and scalding his cheeks with their heat before freezing themselves.

Again and again the knife of ice pierced his unprotected trunk. At last his body numbed, and the final blow was struck. Pegasus now found himself alone, bleeding on the rocks, frozen and ready for death as his last few tears stung his cheeks. But he wasn't to be released yet.

A presence he recognized to be Athena came near him, bathing him with her aura and lighting his own cosmo. Her staff traced along his extremities, bringing wonderful warmth. Slowly it melted the ice and the air no longer bit his lungs, allowing him to breathe more easily. His muscles relaxed and he almost smiled despite his continued suffering. At least his goddess still wanted him. He would face anything for her.

Without warning, an electric shock racked his body as his hand was crushed against the rock below it. He cried out in alarm, realizing it had been her staff that had done the damage. In an instant, all semblance of hope and composure were lost. He wept openly, feeling his already damaged wrist mangled beneath another crushing blow. Slowly the rhythmic strikes worked their way up his left arm.

“Athena. . . What did I do?” He supplicated pathetically.

“Nothing. That is why you must suffer.” Her voice was unmistakable, though lower and crueler than he'd ever heard it. Salt continued to stream silently from his mutilated eyes once she began on his right arm. Each stroke brought a greater level of pain. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming, but the tears remained; tangible reminders of his affliction.

She came around to his right leg, varying her rhythm so that he couldn't become complacent in his agony. She took special care in crushing his knee, first grinding her heel into it before actually pulverizing the knee cap. He bit through his tongue keep silent, choking on the stream of blood that flooded his throat and having to fight to keep himself from breathing it in to stop the pain. If he had seen her sneering expression while she scraped her shoe along his face to dry his tears hard enough to leave a bruise, his heart would have been pierced and his struggle would have ended.

As she started on his final leg, tears turned to despair. She worked her way up, each hit more jarring than the last, but he was meeker even than a lamb led to the slaughter. He couldn't help but think that if even Saori had turned against him, he deserved whatever he was getting. He gave into the intensity of his wretchedness. He relished it in a twisted way, his muddled mind struggling to function while his body struggled to give up.

At last the staff struck his hip, and Seiya knew that death would soon follow. The ghost of a smile touched his chapped lips as he prepared for what he expected to be the final blow. The staff came down, but not on his head as he had hoped. It struck lower. Much lower. He grimaced and his eyes teared once more against his will. He had thought himself to be beyond pain. He had been very wrong. After three hits, what energy was left in him escaped in a scream that died on the soft breeze. He wanted to curl into a ball and make the world go away, but his broken shell wouldn't let him.

As suddenly as the attack had begun, it stopped. Seiya lay shattered and bleeding on the rocks, Saori towering over his tattered form with an evil smirk as she raised the staff once more.

“Please. . .just end it.” Pegasus entreated, gaining yet another malicious grin from his tormentor. She brought the staff down more gently upon his wounded stomach, prodding the holes left by Hyoga's frozen blade. He groaned as the metal pressed into his wounds one by one, twisting about within him and tearing him open bit by bit.

“No. I'm rather enjoying myself.” She laughed at his feeble attempt to hold back a yelp that was swallowed anyway when he choked on his own blood. The staff was then jammed under his rib cage, jarring the bone fragment that had snapped off earlier to cause him greater agony. Once again the metal turned, pulling upwards against his bones through his already tender skin. His ribs fractured with a soft crackling sound under the unique pressure.

Finally, when there was no longer any way he could maintain consciousness, she stopped, pulled back and bent beside him. Laying the staff beside her, she cupped his face in both of her smooth, delicate hands. At first she massaged him gently, taking special care of the cheek she'd injured earlier. Then being made aware that he would stay conscious, she began stroking his cheek more roughly. He whimpered a little at the ill-treatment, but remained still.

She dropped his head, then readjusted herself to kneel on his chest, bringing a wave of fluid from below into his mouth. He no longer sputtered, just gurgled softly, waiting for it to pass, and knowing he'd not be allowed to die so easily. She bent over him. Her voice was whispered in his ear, her breath hot against his cheek, her words were caustic to his soul.

“You've failed us all for the last time, Seiya. Now, you receive your punishment. Justly served, if late in coming.” She crooned, snickering as his labored gasps turned to sobs. She had him where she wanted him. She rose, standing on his stomach, stepped backwards onto him before leaping over beyond his right side. One again a groan from her champion brought a satisfied smile to her lips. Now the staff's edge was a blade, and she swung it down between his slightly splayed legs and up his body, slowly bisecting him.

He lay there, helpless, lost, alone, and confused as his body was cleaved in half. He accepted it in some part of his tired, swimming mind, but railed against it and fought for life in another. His body, however, did not have the strength to raise any verbal objection. So, quietly he lay, barely breathing, hovering on the knife's edge of life and death when at last her staff came to his neck.

“Goodbye, Seiya. And good riddance!” Then true darkness came. But it was broken by a loud beeping.

`Death has an alarm clock?' He thought tiredly, his body trembling. `Wait a minute, alarm clock?'

“It was a dream!” He nearly screeched as his eyes shot open to stare out the window at the glorious sun. Upon sitting up, he roused himself completely from sleep with the realization that his covers were no longer on him, and there was a sharp pain in his chest.

“Did you have pleasant dreams?” An unfamiliar male voice asked gently. Seiya turned to face the speaker, who stood at the foot of his bed, holding his covers. Pegasus's head was spinning and his body was still not anywhere close to full strength. He couldn't ward off the shadowy figure as the Saint was taken by the shoulders and pushed back into a reclined position. Now Seiya's head was held against the pillow as well, with a grip like a vice. His mind, still groggy from sickness sleep, was muddled further when star-bursts of teal and purple shot through his vision from the shear pressure of his attacker's hands.

The intruder made soothing sounds while he gently stroked the center of Pegasus' bare chest with his free left hand. The young warrior winced, not understanding why such a simple motion could cause so much pain, until his assailant's black-gloved fingers were shown to him. The fabric was damp with a definite crimson sheen.

“What did you do to me?” The boy queried, his soft voice cracked and rattling against his sore, dry throat.

“I gave you a special gift. You have caused so much trouble for masters other than mine who had the same goals, and were sleeping so soundly, I thought I'd best deliver it now. Out of respect for your position as leader, I'm letting you taste my little present first. If you prefer for me to move on to the others now, and come back to you. . .” The voice was smooth like velvet, or a snake in the sand. At least the new comer released Seiya's head, backing away from where the young man lay, a pejorative smile dancing across his shadowed features.

“Don't you TOUCH my friends.” Seiya menaced, holding back a cough. His throat was itching badly, but now was not a good time for it.

“Very well, you first. You hero types are all the same. Hold still now, or I will have to find someone else who's better suited for my offering. Like perhaps your lovely young goddess.” Pegasus said nothing, gritting his teeth as he stilled his body as best he could. His heart was racing; his breathing rapid and shallow. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to think of something he could do, anything! But his head pounded and that noise was driving him crazy!

“Yours will be a quick end, don't worry. Nothing like those lovely visions. That beeping is from within you.” Seiya's eyes shot open, almost pleading with his new attacker, but the man went on, smiling faintly at the cowed look on his victim's face. “I literally hold your life in my hand. And as much fun as this has been, I'll have to cut it short. Your friends will be in here soon, and I don't want to ruin the surprise by having them see me yet.” The figure continued gently as he replaced the covers, hiding the angry red scar he'd created.

“That would be too bad indeed.” The man, done arranging the poor, horrified boy as if for sleep, sat beside Pegasus's right arm and brushed a lock of coffee hair from the Saint's forehead. “It would take half the fun out of this.” The tormenter's smirk was reflected in large cinnamon eyes. The man sat there for several minutes, his presence making the weakened Seiya tremble. Rage and abject terror freely intermingled within his battered mind. The images of his sufferings rose again before his mind's eye, so real he felt them once again as sharply as he tasted the bile rising in the back of his throat for believing them. He let his eyes blaze, openly showing all that he was feeling. His hatred, his guilt, his fear, all merged into one force of sheer will and emotion. His heart poured from his eyes, its heat shining on his cheeks, its fire burning into the shadowed monster who tormented him. The creature of darkness lost his facade of confidence, and turned his eyes from the pure light of the champion's gaze. A thing of such malevolence cannot be bathed in the radiance of true feelings without being burned.

Seiya stared with some satisfaction at the averted face, enjoying the hiss of pain that rang in his ears. But Pegasus had spent what little energy he had in that final, futile attack. It's purpose had been served, though. He had won. He lay back, exhausted, aching, but satisfied, to await whatever would come.

`This is for my friends.' His scattered thoughts managed a single coherent train, blocking out all unwanted memory. `For Saori. For you. I'm sorry, guys, this is all I've got. . .'

“Good night, little one.” The man snarled, attempting to regain his composure. His now haughty smirk turned to a leer a second before he made a hand motion, then crossed his arms. Whatever the intruder had done, it caused Seiya's body to be racked by throes. His chest heaved, shooting pain throughout his weak form until he was immobilized by the agony, but no air could enter his lungs. He settled down into the covers, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the bile rise again, but more coppery this time. He realized then that there was blood in his mouth, and a single tear slid down the course on his right cheek before he allowed himself to be taken by the torment away from his body at last, relaxing into death.

The figure wiped the liquid gently, almost affectionately from the boy's face, then rearranged the blanket over the still form. The man's handsome face flickered with something he'd never felt, some unidentifiable emotion, hovering between fear and guilt. He'd seen enough of the boy's eyes to last him a lifetime. Something. . . something about these Saints was going to be far different from his other kills. A flash of black cleared the scene from before his orange eyes, then he was once again composed. He stepped back from the bed appraisingly, like a painter examining his masterpiece. Then with a somewhat shaky nod of approval, he vanished without a trace.

Shiryu tiptoed into Seiya's room later that day to check on his friend and found the boy sleeping peacefully. He decided it best to wake up the young leader so that Pegasus could get some food. It wasn't until Dragon had shaken the younger Saint that the blood from his wounds seeped through the covers and spilled from the corner of Pegasus' mouth, alerting his dearest friend of his demise.

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So, please tell me what you think. I really considered not posting this, but the more I played with the idea, the more I wanted to. If you think I shouldn't have, I'd be more than willing to take it down. Just thought I'd share it in case there were deranged people like myself out there who like this kind of thing.