The Deserving (D Gray-Man, evil AU, Allen/Lavi)
Lavi yawned, propping his cheek on one hand and blinking lazily down at the man kneeling before the dais. The man’s drab peasant garb looked distinctly out of place among the marble and gold of the opulent temple.
“The son of the tyrant Cryseor has enslaved our men and sold our children to the Kythian Empire! We call upon your divine might as we rise up against the oppressor! Tell of our victory in the annals of history, just as you glorified our ancestors when Geralt was king!”
Gods, Lavi hated private petitions. He slumped lower in his chair, absently wondering how long this man’s village had scraped together enough money to be able to afford one. There weren’t many offerings lavish enough to grant their bearer the privilege after all, and this unimportant little mortal wasn’t the sort that usually managed it.
He was certainly putting his all into the asking, though. “O Scribe of the Gods and Opener of Doors!” he prayed fervently, dark eyes flashing with zeal and cagey hope. “Write the fate of your followers anew in the blood of our enemies! Open the way to our triumph!”
The words hung heavily in the air, loud in the space beneath the slanted roof. Then another sound rippled into the hushed quiet; a light, airy chuckle that shimmered through the temple with a chime like silver bells.
“A very prettily worded request,” a boy’s voice noted, light and pleasant as the laugh. Reality wavered amid the heady swirl of incense and a young man stepped lightly towards the dais, white hair shining in the candlelight. Blue eyes crinkled merrily as he smiled at the kneeling peasant. “But he’s a god of endings as well as beginnings - how do you know which one you’ll get?”
To his credit, the man on his knees didn’t dare turn away from the dais to face the speaker, though Lavi could have told him that wasn’t a very good idea where this particular visitor was concerned.
“Lord Lavi has honoured our ancestors many times with his benign grace and we have ever been faithful to the worship of his godhood,” the man declared firmly, trembling only slightly. “We have faith that he will not abandon us now in this time of need.”
“Indeed.” Fine calfskin boots echoed on the marble tiles as Lavi’s visitor drew closer, amicable and unthreatening in his staid white shirt and simple black hose. “Such devotion to your god is admirable,” the boy remarked approvingly, circling around the peasant to give him another careless smile. “Especially in times of trouble such as these.”
Lavi stifled a grin as he watched the man blink warily at this unexpected interloper, struggling to put a name to that smiling face.
His guest sighed dramatically.
“There is much toil in the mortal world at present,” he mourned, casually unkind as he reached up with one hand and ruffled his bangs, revealing the blood-red pentagram etched into the fair skin at his temple. The peasant blanched beneath his tan.
Lavi’s visitor drew in closer, pale eyes glinting with something dangerously dark as his voice dropped to a whisper. “Your people have seen their own share of suffering, haven’t they?” he murmured, soft as a secret. “I should know. I’ve escorted many of them to the land of the dead in the last few moons.”
“L-lord Allen!” The man recoiled as if stung, heels squeaking on the floor. He swallowed hard, dirt-stained hands digging into his thighs as he fought the instinct to flee. “Forgive my impertinence, my Lord. I th-thank you for your care of my people’s fallen in their journey into the afterlife.”
Allen shrugged carelessly. “It’s my duty. No need for gratitude.” His eyes flared suddenly red, the pentagram that marked him as one of the chthonic gods pulsing like a heartbeat in the breathless silence. “And I doubt you’ll want to thank me when you see how many there are yet to die.”
Shuddering, the man swiped at the sweat dewing on his brow with a shaking hand. “O Divine Guide!” he cried, earlier conviction now heavily tainted by dread. “Friend of Travelers and Lord of the Paths of Life and Death! Look as kindly on my people as does the God Scribe - raise not your hands against the guiltless who suffer beneath the tyrant! Show your benevolence to those who implore your sufferance!”
“As kindly as Lavi you say?” Allen tilted his head towards the dais and Lavi waved lazily back, single eye drifting half-shut in enjoyment of the floor show he was getting.
Allen hmmed thoughtfully and turned back to the petitioner with a vaguely regretful air. “Now that’s a shame,” he murmured, smiling gently into the man’s stricken face. “You seem to be harboring a rather grave misconception.”
His arm flashed forward, plunging spear-like into the man’s chest with a wet, tearing sound as flesh and bone shredded like paper. The man lurched, eyes bugging in horror as he slumped forward onto Allen’s arm and blood streamed down his torso. A strangled, watery groan bubbled up from his throat like a sob.
Allen leaned in close to one shaking ear. “It’s about time you learned there’s no such thing as a ‘kindly’ god,” he purred sweetly.
Then his arm caught fire.
Lavi shifted slightly in his seat, half of his attention on Allen’s serene expression and the rest on the way man’s skin sizzled and burned, great globs of fat rolling down his face and pooling sickly on the floor. Screams and the sound of licking flames shattered off the walls, vivid as the holy fire dancing around the writhing body hanging limp from Allen’s arm.
Then Allen drew back all at once and the corpse slumped to the floor, hitting the tiles with a meaty thump and a spray of rust-dark blood. The room was shockingly silent in the aftermath of the man’s death.
Lavi straightened with a slight frown. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he observed, not really a complaint. “It’s not polite to kill someone else’s worshippers. And it’s going to take forever to get those scorch marks out of the floor.”
“You could have stopped me if you wanted to,” Allen pointed out reasonably. He shrugged affably, turning his back on the dead mortal to grin at Lavi. “Besides, he became one of my mortals the moment he turned his feet away from his home village to travel here. And it was me he appealed to at the end, I’m sure you noticed.”
“You’re just greedy,” Lavi accused, but he was smiling as he said it.
Blood dripped off Allen’s fingers onto the floor as he inclined his head. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Lavi grinned widely, gesturing for Allen to come closer. “What brings you to the mortal realm anyway, cousin? I don’t often see you here when you’re not working.”
Allen mounted the steps to the dais with a smile and the lingering scent of cooked flesh. “No reason, really. Getting out of Kanda’s way, mostly.”
Lavi’s eye twinkled with poorly suppressed humour. “On the warpath is he?” he joked, and Allen whacked him lightly.
“I didn’t come down here to listen to your bad puns,” he sniffed, hand a comfortable weight on Lavi’s shoulder when he let it linger. Lavi thought about taking dramatic offense to the stains the touch would leave, but it was rather a moot point now - Allen’s hand was dry, the peasant’s lifeblood already part of the permanent stain left by the thousands of dead Allen had escorted to the Underworld. Allen’s red fingers curled slightly around Lavi’s shoulder, comfortable and unthreatening.
Lavi decided to leave the complaint for another time. “Kanda’s really getting into this war thing, isn’t he?” he asked instead.
Allen’s teeth flashed in a rueful grin. “Would you expect anything less from the Warrior God?” He pushed at Lavi’s shoulder and Lavi slid over easily, leaving enough room on his chair for Allen to perch himself on the arm, feet tucked neatly beside Lavi’s thigh. “That warlord of his is going to make a huge mess of the mortal realm if Kanda doesn’t reign him in soon.”
Lavi chuckled. “You almost sound like you care.”
“Not really.” Allen shrugged matter-of-factly. “But there won’t be many worshippers left for him - or any of us - if they all die of starvation because the entire fall harvest is ruined.”
“It’d keep you out of trouble at least,” Lavi pointed out. “All those deaths to take care of?”
Allen rolled his eyes. “Hardly. Whole villages die at a time when there’s a famine - collecting souls in peace time takes a lot more work.”
“Makes sense. I know what you mean about Kanda’s warlord though.” Lavi gestured absently at the desiccated corpse in the middle of his temple with a shake of his head. “That’s the third mortal to pray against him today, and that’s only the private ones. At least half of the offerings this season have been a request for his death.”
“Hmm.” Allen nudged Lavi with one foot. “So are you going to do anything about it?”
Lavi blinked. “What for?” he asked blankly.
“Aside from responding to the prayers of your faithful followers, O Kind and Beneficent One?” Allen smirked ironically. “I would’ve thought you’d be taking this opportunity to irritate Kanda by ruining his carefully planned war. It’s been several ages since you last got him mad enough to try and castrate you.”
“Yeah well,” Lavi shrugged, stretching his arms above his head as he leaned back. “If I overthrow too many of his warlords he might start getting bored with the whole process, and then what would I do for fun?”
“Take up weaving?” Allen suggested, but Lavi waved him off lazily.
“Nah, I think I’ll just stay down here until things implode on their own.” A thought occurred to him and he threw Allen a shrewd look. “Or are you hoping I’ll step in and get Kanda off your back?”
Judging by the somewhat disgruntled tilt to Allen’s omnipresent smile, Lavi figured that was probably a yes. “Too bad cousin,” he smirked, ignoring the fact that he was in imminent danger of sliding right off the chair if he slumped any lower. “But I don’t feel like causing an unholy ruckus right now. Looks like you’re just going to have to make yourself scarce till he calms down.”
Allen sighed mournfully. “That’s a shame.” Pale eyes slanted warningly towards Lavi as he added, “I guess I’m just going to have to convince you then, aren’t I?”
“Me?” Lavi threw his head back with a laugh. “Are you serious, Allen? No offense cuz, but I write history. I decide the future - it’s impossible to make me do something I don’t want to.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Allen said thoughtfully, propping his chin in one hand with a cheeky smile. “I could tell Komui you got Linali pregnant again.”
“What?!” Lavi’s boots squeaked on the floor as he jerked rapidly upright. “You wouldn’t dare!” he exclaimed, aghast.
Only Allen was still smiling, and that rarely boded well for anyone.
“Wouldn’t I?” Allen asked, guileless and lazily self-satisfied. His expression didn’t even flicker when Lavi wrapped one hand around his throat and jerked him forward, knocking off his balance and sending him sprawling to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
“You. Wouldn’t.” Lavi growled, not caring that Allen’s legs were still trapped against his thigh, forcing the other god into an uncomfortable V-shaped sprawl against the front of the chair.
A white eyebrow arched coolly. “No?” Allen asked. “I thought it was a pretty good idea, myself.”
Lavi’s hand tightened warningly around Allen’s pale throat. “Asphyxiation is a painful way for even a god to die,” he snarled, the flicker of candles along the walls suddenly feeble as the room darkened with his rage.
If anything, Allen’s smile only widened. “Yes it is,” he agreed placidly. “Especially without any of the panic mortals feel to distract you from the pain.” He shrugged, the movement made awkward by the way his hands were pressed against the floor to keep him upright. “You can go ahead if it’ll make you feel better though.”
There was a long, pregnant silence as Lavi glared down at his cousin, expression hard and fingers leaving red marks on Allen’s pale neck. Allen stared back calmly, relaxed and patently unconcerned.
Finally Lavi sighed, fingers slackening slightly as the tension in his body eased. “I guess I should know better than to threaten the messenger of the Underworld with murder, huh?” he asked, a grin quirking his mouth in rueful amusement.
“It probably would have been more effective on one of the other gods,” Allen agreed, shifting to a slightly more comfortable position though he made no attempt to escape Lavi’s grip. He offered a sunny, friendly smile. “But I’m rather too used to dying for it to bother me overmuch anymore. Are you going to let me up?”
The question was asked with an idle curiosity, Allen’s easy slump betraying no particular concern over sitting on the floor with his legs twisted painfully around Lavi’s thigh. His skin under Lavi’s fingers was shockingly hot, body still thrumming with energy left over from the petitioner’s death.
Lavi realized that he was nearly half off the chair himself, leaning over Allen’s angled torso in a decidedly predatory fashion. Allen’s face was tilted up towards him, deceptively submissive, and the hot ire in Lavi’s veins shifted abruptly to an entirely different sort of aggression.
Which was so much more fun anyway. “Actually,” he purred, grip tightening again as he pulled Allen’s upper half closer. “I think I kind of like you like this.”
Allen’s eyes flashed briefly, the red flicker there and gone like quicksilver, and Lavi wondered briefly whether Allen was about to attack him.
Then Allen’s smile widened and he cocked his head to a deliberately goading tilt.
“You certainly are mercurial at times,” the Messenger God murmured, hair brushing softly across the backs of Lavi’s hands as he shifted subtly. “Or is this just another way of convincing me to play nice?”
“Maybe it’s both,” Lavi countered, his own expression going lazy in anticipation. He bent effortlessly forward, folding himself nearly in half until his face was bare inches away from Allen’s. “And what good is being Lavi the Many-Faced if I don’t get to enjoy it anyway?”
Allen shifted suddenly, pulling one long leg free only to settle it on Lavi’s other side, calfskin boot pressing warmly into his thigh. Gray-blue eyes twinkled wickedly and Lavi had only a split second of warning before Allen relaxed his arms and let himself drop, letting Lavi’s grip on his neck take his full weight.
Lavi heard Allen hiss at the way his fingers tightened instinctively, wrapped dangerously tight as Allen hung slackly in his grip. Then strong legs flexed against Lavi’s waist and Allen heaved himself bodily off the floor, slim hands wrapping around Lavi’s shoulders for support as he brought their bodies into sudden, heady contact.
“I guess this is as good a way as any to convince you,” Allen observed lightly, casual tone completely at odds with the friendly warmth in pale eyes. His lips brushed Lavi’s in a deliberate tease, breath puffing hot and wicked across Lavi’s skin.
“Oh?” Lavi asked, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you think you’re going to be doing the convincing?” He slid one arm neatly around Allen’s trim waist and held on tight. His other hand stayed wrapped around Allen’s neck.
Not that Allen seemed to mind. “Because you’re the impulsive one,” he remarked, completely reasonable were it not for the slow roll of his hips against Lavi’s. “Whereas I, mmm, am much harder to distract.”
Lavi could feel the heat radiating through Allen’s thin shirt as his hand shifted against Allen’s lower back. “Is that a challenge?” he demanded, doing nothing to stop the way his hair tumbled into Allen’s face when he leaned in.
Allen’s answering smile was enough to take even his breath away. “What do you think?” he asked, the words breathed directly against Lavi’s skin.
And he was grinning as he leaned in to respond, but Allen canted his head to the side in sudden distraction and Lavi started at the swell of noise on the other side of the ornate temple doors. The petitioners waiting outside had been growing steadily louder for a while now, he realized suddenly, but subtly enough that he hadn’t noticed.
Not that there was any chance of ignoring them now, not with the amount of noise they were making.
“Oh, for…” he let his hand slide away from Allen’s neck, supporting the other god’s shoulders as he glared at the door. “What are they doing now?”
Allen tilted backwards over Lavi’s hand to blink at the door. “It has been a while since I killed your peasant,” he observed thoughtfully, hair falling away from his face and putting his chthonic pentagram on stark display. “And judging from the glazed expression you were wearing when I came in, I assume he’d been already praying at you for some time before that.” His eyes flicked back up at Lavi, mordant sense of humour resurfacing with a grin. “They’re probably tired of waiting their turn for a shot at your ‘benevolence.”
“If you’re trying to be funny I’m going to smack you,” Lavi told him absently, wondering how long it would take to fix the doors later if he had Allen fuse them shut. Then realized that doing so would require letting Allen go either way, and he sighed regretfully at the lost opportunity. He unfolded from his doubled over position and sat back, pulling Allen into his lap as he settled them both on the chair.
On the other side of the doors, murmurs were shifting into loud voices and disgruntled arguing, the volume building warningly. The great gold doors rattled slightly, as though several people were pounding on the other side.
“I suspect they’ve all come long distances to petition you,” Allen mused, arms wrapped comfortably around Lavi’s neck as he twisted round to peer at the shuddering doors. “And I doubt they appreciate not having the chance to have their prayers and gifts duly received.”
“Let them wait,” Lavi declared petulantly, hands shifting distractedly over the smooth planes of Allen’s back. “Their whims are not my concern.”
“You are their god, Lavi, that’s why they’re here. And mortals seem to believe their role as worshippers is what grants us sovereignty.”
“Such arrogance,” Lavi sneered. “To think their prayers and gifts can command the gods.”
“Ah,” Allen’s expression was enigmatic. “But without their obeisance, what would we be gods of?”
Lavi shrugged restlessly, glaring at the door. “As long as mortals live, we will be above them. And all the obsequiences in the world can’t force us to honour their petty wishes if we would rather deny them.”
“Well then. I suppose there’s only one remedy.” Allen grinned mischievously, blood-red hand lifting to drift a caress across Lavi’s face. “Shall we give them what they deserve?”
Still wrapped in Allen’s arms, Lavi looked thoughtfully at the heavy doors and pictured the throng of mortals waiting impatiently for their turn to lay offerings at his feet. They were innocents mostly, no more corrupt than the priests who hoarded his offerings and definitely less volatile than the warlord Kanda was using to wreak havoc on the mortal realm. Belief in his ability to improve their lives had brought them here, with costly gifts and contrite faith, far from home and carrying the hopes of entire peoples with them.
Yet what fools these mortals were to trust their wagons to a horse without a bridle.
Lavi glanced up to find Allen staring down at him, calmly waiting for his response. So he leaned back from the cool touch of Allen’s hand, shifting his own arms to rest against the chair back with a dramatic huff. “I assume you’re still going to want me to overthrow that warlord?” he sighed, waiting until Allen had climbed neatly off his lap before gaining his own feet.
Allen shrugged, cheeks dimpling as he smiled. “It’s only fair. And you’re going to want to do something benevolent after this or your mortals are going to start thinking you’re not a very nice god.”
“You said it yourself.” Lavi extended an arm to Allen, highly amused when the other god smiled and accepted it. “There’s no such thing as kindly gods - just lucky mortals.” He tilted his head towards the rattling doors, teeth in his grin. “Those seem to me to be some of the unlucky ones.”
“You know,” Allen mused thoughtfully. “I think you’re right.” Red flared in his eyes again, terrible and deadly as it echoed the pulse of his pentagram. His voice was a sibilant hiss. “Let’s go show those mortals what it means to try and collar a god.”
“Yeesss,” Lavi purred, grinning as he started down the steps with Allen at his side, already anticipating the screams that would come. “It’s time they got what they deserved.”
~owari
“The son of the tyrant Cryseor has enslaved our men and sold our children to the Kythian Empire! We call upon your divine might as we rise up against the oppressor! Tell of our victory in the annals of history, just as you glorified our ancestors when Geralt was king!”
Gods, Lavi hated private petitions. He slumped lower in his chair, absently wondering how long this man’s village had scraped together enough money to be able to afford one. There weren’t many offerings lavish enough to grant their bearer the privilege after all, and this unimportant little mortal wasn’t the sort that usually managed it.
He was certainly putting his all into the asking, though. “O Scribe of the Gods and Opener of Doors!” he prayed fervently, dark eyes flashing with zeal and cagey hope. “Write the fate of your followers anew in the blood of our enemies! Open the way to our triumph!”
The words hung heavily in the air, loud in the space beneath the slanted roof. Then another sound rippled into the hushed quiet; a light, airy chuckle that shimmered through the temple with a chime like silver bells.
“A very prettily worded request,” a boy’s voice noted, light and pleasant as the laugh. Reality wavered amid the heady swirl of incense and a young man stepped lightly towards the dais, white hair shining in the candlelight. Blue eyes crinkled merrily as he smiled at the kneeling peasant. “But he’s a god of endings as well as beginnings - how do you know which one you’ll get?”
To his credit, the man on his knees didn’t dare turn away from the dais to face the speaker, though Lavi could have told him that wasn’t a very good idea where this particular visitor was concerned.
“Lord Lavi has honoured our ancestors many times with his benign grace and we have ever been faithful to the worship of his godhood,” the man declared firmly, trembling only slightly. “We have faith that he will not abandon us now in this time of need.”
“Indeed.” Fine calfskin boots echoed on the marble tiles as Lavi’s visitor drew closer, amicable and unthreatening in his staid white shirt and simple black hose. “Such devotion to your god is admirable,” the boy remarked approvingly, circling around the peasant to give him another careless smile. “Especially in times of trouble such as these.”
Lavi stifled a grin as he watched the man blink warily at this unexpected interloper, struggling to put a name to that smiling face.
His guest sighed dramatically.
“There is much toil in the mortal world at present,” he mourned, casually unkind as he reached up with one hand and ruffled his bangs, revealing the blood-red pentagram etched into the fair skin at his temple. The peasant blanched beneath his tan.
Lavi’s visitor drew in closer, pale eyes glinting with something dangerously dark as his voice dropped to a whisper. “Your people have seen their own share of suffering, haven’t they?” he murmured, soft as a secret. “I should know. I’ve escorted many of them to the land of the dead in the last few moons.”
“L-lord Allen!” The man recoiled as if stung, heels squeaking on the floor. He swallowed hard, dirt-stained hands digging into his thighs as he fought the instinct to flee. “Forgive my impertinence, my Lord. I th-thank you for your care of my people’s fallen in their journey into the afterlife.”
Allen shrugged carelessly. “It’s my duty. No need for gratitude.” His eyes flared suddenly red, the pentagram that marked him as one of the chthonic gods pulsing like a heartbeat in the breathless silence. “And I doubt you’ll want to thank me when you see how many there are yet to die.”
Shuddering, the man swiped at the sweat dewing on his brow with a shaking hand. “O Divine Guide!” he cried, earlier conviction now heavily tainted by dread. “Friend of Travelers and Lord of the Paths of Life and Death! Look as kindly on my people as does the God Scribe - raise not your hands against the guiltless who suffer beneath the tyrant! Show your benevolence to those who implore your sufferance!”
“As kindly as Lavi you say?” Allen tilted his head towards the dais and Lavi waved lazily back, single eye drifting half-shut in enjoyment of the floor show he was getting.
Allen hmmed thoughtfully and turned back to the petitioner with a vaguely regretful air. “Now that’s a shame,” he murmured, smiling gently into the man’s stricken face. “You seem to be harboring a rather grave misconception.”
His arm flashed forward, plunging spear-like into the man’s chest with a wet, tearing sound as flesh and bone shredded like paper. The man lurched, eyes bugging in horror as he slumped forward onto Allen’s arm and blood streamed down his torso. A strangled, watery groan bubbled up from his throat like a sob.
Allen leaned in close to one shaking ear. “It’s about time you learned there’s no such thing as a ‘kindly’ god,” he purred sweetly.
Then his arm caught fire.
Lavi shifted slightly in his seat, half of his attention on Allen’s serene expression and the rest on the way man’s skin sizzled and burned, great globs of fat rolling down his face and pooling sickly on the floor. Screams and the sound of licking flames shattered off the walls, vivid as the holy fire dancing around the writhing body hanging limp from Allen’s arm.
Then Allen drew back all at once and the corpse slumped to the floor, hitting the tiles with a meaty thump and a spray of rust-dark blood. The room was shockingly silent in the aftermath of the man’s death.
Lavi straightened with a slight frown. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he observed, not really a complaint. “It’s not polite to kill someone else’s worshippers. And it’s going to take forever to get those scorch marks out of the floor.”
“You could have stopped me if you wanted to,” Allen pointed out reasonably. He shrugged affably, turning his back on the dead mortal to grin at Lavi. “Besides, he became one of my mortals the moment he turned his feet away from his home village to travel here. And it was me he appealed to at the end, I’m sure you noticed.”
“You’re just greedy,” Lavi accused, but he was smiling as he said it.
Blood dripped off Allen’s fingers onto the floor as he inclined his head. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Lavi grinned widely, gesturing for Allen to come closer. “What brings you to the mortal realm anyway, cousin? I don’t often see you here when you’re not working.”
Allen mounted the steps to the dais with a smile and the lingering scent of cooked flesh. “No reason, really. Getting out of Kanda’s way, mostly.”
Lavi’s eye twinkled with poorly suppressed humour. “On the warpath is he?” he joked, and Allen whacked him lightly.
“I didn’t come down here to listen to your bad puns,” he sniffed, hand a comfortable weight on Lavi’s shoulder when he let it linger. Lavi thought about taking dramatic offense to the stains the touch would leave, but it was rather a moot point now - Allen’s hand was dry, the peasant’s lifeblood already part of the permanent stain left by the thousands of dead Allen had escorted to the Underworld. Allen’s red fingers curled slightly around Lavi’s shoulder, comfortable and unthreatening.
Lavi decided to leave the complaint for another time. “Kanda’s really getting into this war thing, isn’t he?” he asked instead.
Allen’s teeth flashed in a rueful grin. “Would you expect anything less from the Warrior God?” He pushed at Lavi’s shoulder and Lavi slid over easily, leaving enough room on his chair for Allen to perch himself on the arm, feet tucked neatly beside Lavi’s thigh. “That warlord of his is going to make a huge mess of the mortal realm if Kanda doesn’t reign him in soon.”
Lavi chuckled. “You almost sound like you care.”
“Not really.” Allen shrugged matter-of-factly. “But there won’t be many worshippers left for him - or any of us - if they all die of starvation because the entire fall harvest is ruined.”
“It’d keep you out of trouble at least,” Lavi pointed out. “All those deaths to take care of?”
Allen rolled his eyes. “Hardly. Whole villages die at a time when there’s a famine - collecting souls in peace time takes a lot more work.”
“Makes sense. I know what you mean about Kanda’s warlord though.” Lavi gestured absently at the desiccated corpse in the middle of his temple with a shake of his head. “That’s the third mortal to pray against him today, and that’s only the private ones. At least half of the offerings this season have been a request for his death.”
“Hmm.” Allen nudged Lavi with one foot. “So are you going to do anything about it?”
Lavi blinked. “What for?” he asked blankly.
“Aside from responding to the prayers of your faithful followers, O Kind and Beneficent One?” Allen smirked ironically. “I would’ve thought you’d be taking this opportunity to irritate Kanda by ruining his carefully planned war. It’s been several ages since you last got him mad enough to try and castrate you.”
“Yeah well,” Lavi shrugged, stretching his arms above his head as he leaned back. “If I overthrow too many of his warlords he might start getting bored with the whole process, and then what would I do for fun?”
“Take up weaving?” Allen suggested, but Lavi waved him off lazily.
“Nah, I think I’ll just stay down here until things implode on their own.” A thought occurred to him and he threw Allen a shrewd look. “Or are you hoping I’ll step in and get Kanda off your back?”
Judging by the somewhat disgruntled tilt to Allen’s omnipresent smile, Lavi figured that was probably a yes. “Too bad cousin,” he smirked, ignoring the fact that he was in imminent danger of sliding right off the chair if he slumped any lower. “But I don’t feel like causing an unholy ruckus right now. Looks like you’re just going to have to make yourself scarce till he calms down.”
Allen sighed mournfully. “That’s a shame.” Pale eyes slanted warningly towards Lavi as he added, “I guess I’m just going to have to convince you then, aren’t I?”
“Me?” Lavi threw his head back with a laugh. “Are you serious, Allen? No offense cuz, but I write history. I decide the future - it’s impossible to make me do something I don’t want to.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Allen said thoughtfully, propping his chin in one hand with a cheeky smile. “I could tell Komui you got Linali pregnant again.”
“What?!” Lavi’s boots squeaked on the floor as he jerked rapidly upright. “You wouldn’t dare!” he exclaimed, aghast.
Only Allen was still smiling, and that rarely boded well for anyone.
“Wouldn’t I?” Allen asked, guileless and lazily self-satisfied. His expression didn’t even flicker when Lavi wrapped one hand around his throat and jerked him forward, knocking off his balance and sending him sprawling to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
“You. Wouldn’t.” Lavi growled, not caring that Allen’s legs were still trapped against his thigh, forcing the other god into an uncomfortable V-shaped sprawl against the front of the chair.
A white eyebrow arched coolly. “No?” Allen asked. “I thought it was a pretty good idea, myself.”
Lavi’s hand tightened warningly around Allen’s pale throat. “Asphyxiation is a painful way for even a god to die,” he snarled, the flicker of candles along the walls suddenly feeble as the room darkened with his rage.
If anything, Allen’s smile only widened. “Yes it is,” he agreed placidly. “Especially without any of the panic mortals feel to distract you from the pain.” He shrugged, the movement made awkward by the way his hands were pressed against the floor to keep him upright. “You can go ahead if it’ll make you feel better though.”
There was a long, pregnant silence as Lavi glared down at his cousin, expression hard and fingers leaving red marks on Allen’s pale neck. Allen stared back calmly, relaxed and patently unconcerned.
Finally Lavi sighed, fingers slackening slightly as the tension in his body eased. “I guess I should know better than to threaten the messenger of the Underworld with murder, huh?” he asked, a grin quirking his mouth in rueful amusement.
“It probably would have been more effective on one of the other gods,” Allen agreed, shifting to a slightly more comfortable position though he made no attempt to escape Lavi’s grip. He offered a sunny, friendly smile. “But I’m rather too used to dying for it to bother me overmuch anymore. Are you going to let me up?”
The question was asked with an idle curiosity, Allen’s easy slump betraying no particular concern over sitting on the floor with his legs twisted painfully around Lavi’s thigh. His skin under Lavi’s fingers was shockingly hot, body still thrumming with energy left over from the petitioner’s death.
Lavi realized that he was nearly half off the chair himself, leaning over Allen’s angled torso in a decidedly predatory fashion. Allen’s face was tilted up towards him, deceptively submissive, and the hot ire in Lavi’s veins shifted abruptly to an entirely different sort of aggression.
Which was so much more fun anyway. “Actually,” he purred, grip tightening again as he pulled Allen’s upper half closer. “I think I kind of like you like this.”
Allen’s eyes flashed briefly, the red flicker there and gone like quicksilver, and Lavi wondered briefly whether Allen was about to attack him.
Then Allen’s smile widened and he cocked his head to a deliberately goading tilt.
“You certainly are mercurial at times,” the Messenger God murmured, hair brushing softly across the backs of Lavi’s hands as he shifted subtly. “Or is this just another way of convincing me to play nice?”
“Maybe it’s both,” Lavi countered, his own expression going lazy in anticipation. He bent effortlessly forward, folding himself nearly in half until his face was bare inches away from Allen’s. “And what good is being Lavi the Many-Faced if I don’t get to enjoy it anyway?”
Allen shifted suddenly, pulling one long leg free only to settle it on Lavi’s other side, calfskin boot pressing warmly into his thigh. Gray-blue eyes twinkled wickedly and Lavi had only a split second of warning before Allen relaxed his arms and let himself drop, letting Lavi’s grip on his neck take his full weight.
Lavi heard Allen hiss at the way his fingers tightened instinctively, wrapped dangerously tight as Allen hung slackly in his grip. Then strong legs flexed against Lavi’s waist and Allen heaved himself bodily off the floor, slim hands wrapping around Lavi’s shoulders for support as he brought their bodies into sudden, heady contact.
“I guess this is as good a way as any to convince you,” Allen observed lightly, casual tone completely at odds with the friendly warmth in pale eyes. His lips brushed Lavi’s in a deliberate tease, breath puffing hot and wicked across Lavi’s skin.
“Oh?” Lavi asked, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you think you’re going to be doing the convincing?” He slid one arm neatly around Allen’s trim waist and held on tight. His other hand stayed wrapped around Allen’s neck.
Not that Allen seemed to mind. “Because you’re the impulsive one,” he remarked, completely reasonable were it not for the slow roll of his hips against Lavi’s. “Whereas I, mmm, am much harder to distract.”
Lavi could feel the heat radiating through Allen’s thin shirt as his hand shifted against Allen’s lower back. “Is that a challenge?” he demanded, doing nothing to stop the way his hair tumbled into Allen’s face when he leaned in.
Allen’s answering smile was enough to take even his breath away. “What do you think?” he asked, the words breathed directly against Lavi’s skin.
And he was grinning as he leaned in to respond, but Allen canted his head to the side in sudden distraction and Lavi started at the swell of noise on the other side of the ornate temple doors. The petitioners waiting outside had been growing steadily louder for a while now, he realized suddenly, but subtly enough that he hadn’t noticed.
Not that there was any chance of ignoring them now, not with the amount of noise they were making.
“Oh, for…” he let his hand slide away from Allen’s neck, supporting the other god’s shoulders as he glared at the door. “What are they doing now?”
Allen tilted backwards over Lavi’s hand to blink at the door. “It has been a while since I killed your peasant,” he observed thoughtfully, hair falling away from his face and putting his chthonic pentagram on stark display. “And judging from the glazed expression you were wearing when I came in, I assume he’d been already praying at you for some time before that.” His eyes flicked back up at Lavi, mordant sense of humour resurfacing with a grin. “They’re probably tired of waiting their turn for a shot at your ‘benevolence.”
“If you’re trying to be funny I’m going to smack you,” Lavi told him absently, wondering how long it would take to fix the doors later if he had Allen fuse them shut. Then realized that doing so would require letting Allen go either way, and he sighed regretfully at the lost opportunity. He unfolded from his doubled over position and sat back, pulling Allen into his lap as he settled them both on the chair.
On the other side of the doors, murmurs were shifting into loud voices and disgruntled arguing, the volume building warningly. The great gold doors rattled slightly, as though several people were pounding on the other side.
“I suspect they’ve all come long distances to petition you,” Allen mused, arms wrapped comfortably around Lavi’s neck as he twisted round to peer at the shuddering doors. “And I doubt they appreciate not having the chance to have their prayers and gifts duly received.”
“Let them wait,” Lavi declared petulantly, hands shifting distractedly over the smooth planes of Allen’s back. “Their whims are not my concern.”
“You are their god, Lavi, that’s why they’re here. And mortals seem to believe their role as worshippers is what grants us sovereignty.”
“Such arrogance,” Lavi sneered. “To think their prayers and gifts can command the gods.”
“Ah,” Allen’s expression was enigmatic. “But without their obeisance, what would we be gods of?”
Lavi shrugged restlessly, glaring at the door. “As long as mortals live, we will be above them. And all the obsequiences in the world can’t force us to honour their petty wishes if we would rather deny them.”
“Well then. I suppose there’s only one remedy.” Allen grinned mischievously, blood-red hand lifting to drift a caress across Lavi’s face. “Shall we give them what they deserve?”
Still wrapped in Allen’s arms, Lavi looked thoughtfully at the heavy doors and pictured the throng of mortals waiting impatiently for their turn to lay offerings at his feet. They were innocents mostly, no more corrupt than the priests who hoarded his offerings and definitely less volatile than the warlord Kanda was using to wreak havoc on the mortal realm. Belief in his ability to improve their lives had brought them here, with costly gifts and contrite faith, far from home and carrying the hopes of entire peoples with them.
Yet what fools these mortals were to trust their wagons to a horse without a bridle.
Lavi glanced up to find Allen staring down at him, calmly waiting for his response. So he leaned back from the cool touch of Allen’s hand, shifting his own arms to rest against the chair back with a dramatic huff. “I assume you’re still going to want me to overthrow that warlord?” he sighed, waiting until Allen had climbed neatly off his lap before gaining his own feet.
Allen shrugged, cheeks dimpling as he smiled. “It’s only fair. And you’re going to want to do something benevolent after this or your mortals are going to start thinking you’re not a very nice god.”
“You said it yourself.” Lavi extended an arm to Allen, highly amused when the other god smiled and accepted it. “There’s no such thing as kindly gods - just lucky mortals.” He tilted his head towards the rattling doors, teeth in his grin. “Those seem to me to be some of the unlucky ones.”
“You know,” Allen mused thoughtfully. “I think you’re right.” Red flared in his eyes again, terrible and deadly as it echoed the pulse of his pentagram. His voice was a sibilant hiss. “Let’s go show those mortals what it means to try and collar a god.”
“Yeesss,” Lavi purred, grinning as he started down the steps with Allen at his side, already anticipating the screams that would come. “It’s time they got what they deserved.”
~owari