Trigger Warning: Sexual assault and violence.
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Her eyes opened with a snap, breath coming fast in her throat. Fear gripped her, sweat springing from her pores.
She could find no cause for it as her eyes darted wildly around the room. Ilya was still quietly sleeping atop her…
No. Something was wrong. His eyes were open, and his breathing was fast.
"Ilya, what is it?"
His hands snaked up her sides, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head. Bracing himself against her, he reared up, and when his face was revealed in the moonlight it sent a stab of terror to her very core.
"Ilya?" she whispered.
A sneering grin twisted his face, and contemptuously laughing eyes stared down at her.
"I must say, my dear, I never thought your body to be so beautiful."
"What is this?" she cried, struggling against him. She should have been able to free herself easily, but his strength was overpowering hers. "What is happening?"
Leaning down, he nuzzled her neck with lips that had a sticky hot touch. "Later, little angel. First I wish to indulge myself with this lovely form of yours. I've never had the pleasure of one of your sort before."
"No!"
This times her screams as he plunged inside of her were of anything but pleasure.
Weeping, she was curled on her side, face to the wall. Wicked gouges marked her skin, her body liberally striped with weals and deeply furrowed scratches. Internally, as well, she felt battered and bruised, and her wrists felt as if they had been crushed.
"What is the matter, my dear?" he asked, sitting in the chair, his nude form still illuminated by the moon.
But it was not moonlight that reflected red from his eyes.
"How is this possible?" she sobbed.
"Why, you made it possible, morsel," the voice, so loved, rough with scorn and derision.
"What have you done with him?"
"Oh, he is in here, somewhere. He would have to be, you know, for what we have planned for him."
"How…how…my Father…saved us through Ilya. My Father healed me!"
"They don't make your kind for brains, do they? No, let me tell you what happened. You happened. Your vulnerability in this delicious human form happened," he said, running a lascivious hand down her back, over her buttock. She shuddered and tried to wriggle from his touch. "And we helped you get what you desired. Your precious Father Ilya Gavril. Is this not what you wanted, little angel? To know him Biblically? I believe we had this discussion."
"I don't understand!"
"Then I will explain it to you. To be honest (for a change) I've rather been looking forward to this." He slid the chair across the floor until his knees touched the bed. Reaching out, he grabbed her arms and jerked her to face him. "As soon as we saw your attraction for each other we have been fostering it. You, as a warrior, have never been exposed to the intrigues my kind are capable of. A gentle hint there, a seed planted there, and you eagerly lapped it up.
"Nothing works quite so well as vanity and pride, together they are such a useful combination, don't you think? You defeated me so soundly time after time, your triumphs so pure, your will so strong! Why once you even lopped my head from my shoulders, that must have been a real thrill. And the inferences that of course you were meant to be together, it was all part of your divine plan. You were special. You were not bound by the rules that enslave the rest of mortal flesh and mortal desire. Only you could be of use to him, guide him, protect him.
"And he…" he freed one hand and ran it down his chest, to grip between his legs. She tried to turn her face away, but he held her fast. "He's a lot more passionate than even we had suspected. Oh how he longed for you.
"Did you know," he whispered conspiratorially, clenching his fingers in her hair and forcing her to look as his other hand began to move in a distinct rhythm. "He would do this while lying in your bed? The very thought of you, your breasts, your thighs, pressing against the thin little mattress where he lay stirred his manhood, until he could do ought but relieve the ache!"
"Be silent!"
"Needless to say," he said with a chuckle, shoving her away to slam against the wall and leaning back in the chair. "Neither of you would be led down the path by mere desire of the flesh. Oh no, we had to be ever so delicate with the both of you, for you were so very, very virtuous!" He laughed, and she wanted to stop her ears from Ilya's voice being so used.
"When it seemed that your damnable virtue would win out, and you left him the first time, we arranged a very simple little bug, a mere illness, to infect him when he was out of the confines of the chapel. He does so love to chop wood when confused, doesn't he? We could not touch him while he was inside these foul walls, but the grounds around this weak little church were another matter entirely.
"As expected, you flew to his side and became such a nursemaid to him. Tending him and healing him and caring for him. It was very sweet, you know. I was moved. I really was. Anyway, you made him all better and the two of you were off to a swimming start.
"But of course nothing is ever that easy. Your father here has something of a martyr complex, and he is one of the best at denial I have ever seen! He sensed the danger you represented to him, and so tried to send you away himself, as it seemed that you were perfectly content in your own little martyrdom of unrequited love. He spoke to the starosta, who was incredibly useful by the way, and the two planned to send you away again. Even to yoke you to that buffoon of a smith's son. Oh, that would never do.
"So we delayed the replacement from Kyiv, and played on his jealousy. Nothing was by chance. Including him seeing you with that dolt in the village. The imbecile was easy enough to manipulate, he is a lamentably good person, but his heart and his loins did so pulse when you were near. A little nudge to the fool's covetous nature, and that was all we needed to spark the oh so pure father's jealousy. When that idiot put his arm around you, I very nearly we would have the father on wrath alone, right then and there!
"Still, he controlled himself and stormed back to his little chapel, sealing himself inside where we could not touch him. But the seeds we had planted had found fertile soil, and bloomed beautifully into a fit of jealousy! It drove him from the protections of these walls, and into the churchyard, where we had him."
"No, you didn't, fiend! I came! I fought—"
"Of course you did! You had to! And bravo, by the way, you were so magnificent! Soaring in, sword ablaze, wings spread and hair your golden banner, to drive out the evil that afflicted your love! Ah, I was moved despite myself. We knew you would come and do exactly what you did, little angel. The stage was set, and you took your cue like a true professional."
"But…the Sword of the Morning Star…"
"Just a prop! Lucifer leant it to me once I told him of our scheme. We had no intention of killing you, not you, our finest tool. Neither did we have any fancy of actually being able to take the father. No, no. Neither of you were weak enough yet. Neither of you had opened the door wide enough for us to enter. You were both still too pure. Your God's voice had been clouded to the both of you, but you could still hear Him, and you still heeded His words.
"No, little angel. You followed the script to the letter, as did he. You faltered, believing I could actually strike down a mortal myself, which you know is strictly impossible. We cannot kill with our own hands, only arrange for accidents. You forgot that all either of you needed was to hold true to the only power that could save you both, your God. "
"No!" she shrieked, shaking her head violently from side to side, hair thrashing around her. Once more, although she knew it was useless, she attempted to transform into her other shape, but it failed yet again. She remained delicately human, and vulnerable.
Upon realizing the desires of her flesh, the true embodiment of being a human had become hers. She could be injured, and bleed. She needed food, and water.
But these were nothing to the grief and sorrow she was slowly realizing to be the legacy of her and Ilya's love for each other.
"Oh but yes. You were so incredibly lovely, so very brave, as you sacrificed yourself for him, throwing yourself upon my cursed blade. But what was this? Was it for nothing? Was the evil demon merely going to spare you long enough as he killed the man you loved?
"Enter the true hero of the piece, Father Ilya Gavril. So pious, so righteously determined, so strong in his faith. So exquisitely foolish.
"The litany of exorcism was truly spoken, and it actually did hurt quite a bit, as did that stupid sword, which I will make you both pay for later. But his heart was not full of God, but of you. That was when it was my turn to take center stage. I ranted and raved and gibbered and slobbered which of course gave him all the confidence you both needed to believe me truly vanquished by the Almighty.
"But it was not so, the play-fighting was done, it was time for the true climax of the play, and the final wedge we needed to take hold of those dark roots we had planted and had grown so well and so quickly through him. He still had a chance to escape us, but we did our work well. The foundation of his desires had been laid and he had no thought of turning away from it.
"He made a deal. And as you know, my kind are experts at deals. Your kind, not so much. You don't make deals. Ever. You are very much more straightforward, no tit for tat, no this for that. Once your wretched Son is truly accepted that's pretty much all that's needed. No further bargaining required or wanted. Your God does not work that way. And your beloved father forgot to say a few things during his pleading. Like specifically invoking your God.
"What he offered was not a prayer to your Lord, but the terms of a deal, with no particular party named. That left it open to any interested party. And we were very interested. We took him up on his offered deal, and healed you. It had to take a very defined set of words for us to be able to affect you in such a manner, but he used them. That pretty much gave us carte blanche. Once the words were spoken, it was only a matter of time.
"At that point all we had to do was sit back and wait, which is good because he brought you inside this pathetic hovel. We couldn't even watch! But we didn't need to see to know when he broke. He took you, and as he lay in your little bed afterward, so content, so blissful in his finally having you, not once did he think of his God, or of repentance, or of contrition.
"He was not sorry for what he had done, and was full well ready to do it again as soon as he woke. And yet, he knew. He knew how wrong it was, the vows he had broken, the promises he had shattered. He knew, and he did not care.
"He admitted to himself how he so loved you, and desired you, and finally turned to you. And in doing so, turned his back on his God, his faith, and everything that protected him against us. The holy wards on the church shattered, and here I am!"
All she could do was lay there and moan in despair and anguish.
"Now I say the words and they are truth. We have won. He is ours, and his seed will bring forth a devastation for the faith of your God the likes of which have never been seen before. Shall I tell you how?"
She was beyond listening, consumed by guilt and shame. He didn't care.
"One of his descendants, and I will see to it that there are many, many descendants, will eventually change his name as he leaves the lands of Kyiv behind and moves to another. It is not this descendant that is so special. He will be born and he will grow up and he will fall in love and he will marry, and of his loins will be produced a son of Hell to walk the firmament.
"This son will be a fine, strapping lad, but prone to all the regular sins, of course. But what a charisma he will possess! He will be strong and handsome, and his words will lend him influence enough to gain the ear of the rulers of the land he lives in. And those rulers will be seduced by him, and foster decadence and create a land where the commoners are so crushed by their debased yoke that there will be revolution!
"It is this revolution that will spark the widest extermination of the followers of Abraham the likes of which have never been seen. Faith will be ruthlessly oppressed, covering continents and lands which have yet to even be named. There will be war, and there will be death, and the unsaved souls of man will be reaped and laid to rest never knowing the call of your Christ, to lay there until Judgment Day, when those never given the choice will be offered one.
"'So?' you may think. 'On Judgment Day all will see the true glory of God and have no choice but to see His love and His grace'. But not so fast. You know well that on that Day the dead will rise and they will be as they were when they yet lived, and when they yet lived, there was no fear of God, but fear of believing in God. Billions will close their eyes and turn away from the clear evidence before them. And then they will be ours.
"Is it any wonder that the great Satan himself was so interested in this plan? Now, my little angel, I feel the heat rising within me again, and I will quench it within your womb. You will be the first to bear his child. Who knows? Perhaps it is through you as well that the son of Hell will be brought forth! Such a delicious irony!"
He stood from the chair, and lowered himself on top of her, wrenching her arms away and forcing her legs apart.
"Now, call me by my name," he breathed in grotesque mockery of what Ilya had implored her only a few hours prior.
"No!"
"Call me by my name!" he commanded.
"Czernobog!" she howled.
She thought herself far too dominated by her bewilderment and misery to be affected by any further physical administrations of the demon who wore the skin of her beloved.
She was terribly, terribly wrong.