A/N: I'm just gonna leave this here...

Forgotten Angels

By Catsitta

Chapter Two: The Dark Angel

Act I

It was the event of the decade.

The Emperor's daughter was at last getting married.

Aerith was perhaps the only one who saw the love blossoming between the stoic Valentine and Yuffie. After all, as far as anyone else was concerned, their union was an arranged match. He was the only man who would take her as a wife, and there was nothing Yuffie could do to escape. But she did not want to run away, not anymore. Not when there was happiness to be found in the arms of a gentleman who adored her silently for every foul word she shouted and every punch she threw on impulse.

Watching them wed in the Palace Courtyard, Yuffie clad in a kimono of the finest crimson silk, left Aerith filled with joy...as well as cloudy jealousy. Her best friend was taking the first step into a new stage of her life, that of womanhood...of motherhood. In a matter of hours, the girl Aerith grew up alongside, would be a wife and begin her duty to conceive the next heir of Wutai.

She would have everything Aerith ever wanted.

A family.

Love.

Wiping away a tear gathering in her eye with a sleeve, Aerith pushed away her guilty thoughts. This was a happy day and she could not be prouder of Yuffie. The little ninja was grown.

As the ceremony drew to a close, a fire was lit in a large golden bowl. The flames were taken straight from the eternally burning Da-Chao cavern, high in the mountains, as was tradition to seal the binding of a royal family member. It was to burn away the tether the couple had with the mortal world and tie them forever to the immortal gods.

"May Levithan bless this union!"

Aerith watched the flames dance higher and higher, eagerly lapping up into the evening sky. Engrossed, she stared deeply into the flickering display, enamored by the thousands of separate colors which composed the sacred fire, and was only drawn out by the sound of thunderous applause.

A softly blushing Yuffie shyly waved at the crowd. Valentine lifted his chin.

They were beautiful together.

So lovely.

Everything was utterly perfect.

Thus Aerith could not understand why she suddenly felt so angry. Why the colors she admired looked muted and drab. Why a thousand spiders seemed to be crawling beneath her skin.

Unable to do anything else, she began to clap, lost in her selfish grief.

Act II

She retreated to her garden.

It was what she always did. Flowers, seeds and soil were stable. Normal. Constant. She could coax wonderful life into existence and listen to the Planet sing Her praises. When she gardened, all other things were forgotten.

At least, that was how it usually happened.

"Someone will come for you someday," Aerith whispered as her fingers dug into rich, brown earth. "He'll be handsome, and strong, and good. He'll love flowers and magic and...and who am I kidding?" Her voice faltered, the words sticking to the back of her throat. "I'm a foreigner, a freak. Even the palace guards are afraid of me, to be seen around me. Yuffie says bringing magic to Wutai makes me some kind of hero. But..."

Voicing aloud fears helped Aerith cope.

Usually.

This time, all it did was bring her to tears. Every childhood fantasy was coming down around her, crashing to pieces like a porcelain doll hitting a marble floor. Desperate for comfort, Aerith fished out of the baby Levithan Yuffie gifted her from the pouch she now wore around her neck and clutched it to her chest. Ever since the earthquake, she swore it felt different, stronger even, but nonetheless it was comforting to cradle the faint heartbeat close.

Subconsciously, Aerith sought out the energy of the materia with her own, intermingling the magic of the Planet's Guardian with hers. It was a thrilling sensation. Powerful.

'Oh Planet, all I want is a chance for happiness, for love and a family.'

She gripped the Summons tighter. Her eyes burning with withheld tears. And she wished with all her might.

The orb began to glow.

Feeling the summons materia grow hot, Aerith gasped opened her hands. This would be the first time she summoned the baby Levithan. Would it be as massive as its sire? Goodness, the guards would not be happy if she summoned a mighty god in the middle of the night.

It was too late to stop the call.

Brighter, and brighter the materia glowed, until the red gem became a supernova of white. It vibrated and pulsed, filling the air with pure energy as the rift between the the magic and the mundane was ripped asunder. Aerith closed her eyes as the intensity became too much.

The summons leapt from her hands.

Darkness returned.

Warily, Aerith cracked open her eyes.

Silver and green greeted her instead of blue. She blinked rapidly. Her heart stopped. There was no water dragon curled in the gardens, ready to strike, with a maw full of imposing fangs. Instead, in its place, stood a man.

A wickedly beautiful man.

A wickedly beautiful...and utterly nude man.

Aerith's eyes bulged briefly, before she clapped a hand over them with a ferocious blush. She'd never seen a man in such a state of undress. Much less one of such, stature. No human could look so, transcendent. Peeking curiously between her fingers, Aerith peered once again at the man. He remained as lovely and naked as before. Tall, impossibly broad of shoulders and muscled, every inch covered in moonpale skin. He possessed a savagely angelic face, with luminescent, cat-like green eyes. Hair the color of first snow in the starlight, hung to shapely calves, a glorious waterfall of pure platinum.

"Like what you see, girl?"

Startled by his cool, arrogant purr cutting through the air, Aerith's eyes snapped to his face. She expected him to be wearing a sneer, or a smirk. Instead, he was devoid of expression, but his hard stare sent unwelcome chills down her spine. This was a guardian, a god, summoned through the materia. They were creatures of war, not emotion.

Aerith was surprised he spoke. None of the other summons did. They simply completed the task they were asked to do, in the way they were familiar with doing, and returned to wherever summons live.

"Who are you?" she asked in a small voice.

Those green eyes narrowed.

"I am Sephiroth," he said. Suddenly, he was upon Aerith, a single, massive wing of ebony flared out above them. She whimpered, but did not move. Would the summons hurt her? Could they harm those who called them? Sephiroth stood nearly flush against her, imposing and immovable. If he wished it, he could snap her like a twig beneath a boot. "The Planet's end."

His arched bangs brushed against Aerith's cheeks. His every word was a whisper against her skin. Was this fear she felt or something else?

Sephiroth remained for only a brief moment longer before pulling away, casually meandering a few long paces away, his single wing folding away against argent skin. "I wonder..." He glanced over his shoulder at Aerith. "Tell me girl, what foolishness caused you to release me from my prison?"

"I...prison? You...you are a summons, yes? One of the gods who choose to answer the call of mortal magic in order to offer aid."

The dark angel, for that was the only thing Sephiroth could be, threw back his head in laughter. If the sound crawling from his throat could be considered laughter. It was dark, seductive and crazed. Rich as pure gold yet wildly primal.

Teeth gleaming, he swung his arm out, an impossibly long katana materializing into his left hand with a cloud of black smoke. In a metallic blink, Sephiroth made the sword sing, its song promising death as he closed upon his prey.

"Stupid child! I am no mere creature you can use for your petty whims. I AM GOD." He pressed the edge of the blade against Aerith's throat. "And I shall destroy every one of your worthless humans in the name of Jenova! I...I..." His eyes widened. The sword quivered in his tremulous grip. "I...I shall k-kill..."

CLANG!

He drew in a shaky breath.

"What madness is this? Masamune..." he reached for the sword, only to have it dissolve beneath his fingers. "No. What? No..."

A black aura of hate seemed to emanate from him, replacing confusion and panic in an instant. Sephiroth straightened, smoothly, elegantly. A lithe predator, sleek and voracious, he began to walk towards the flower girl. She could see the intent glittering in those glowing eyes. Those raw mako pools. She shuffled backwards, one arm raised in feeble defense.

Of all the times to be unarmed.

"S-stop," Aerith squeaked. "I c-command y-you!"

Calloused fingers closed around a bird-bone wrist. Aerith could feel her skin bruising as Sephiroth tightened his grip into an iron vice. She tried to pull away, crying weakly out in pain, but he held fast, squeezing her tighter, and tighter until the bones shifted and felt ready to snap.

"STOP!"

And he released her.

Aerith scuttled away from the dark angel and cradled her wounded wrist, emerald eyes damp and shimmering. Pitifully, she collapsed to her knees, unable to withstand the weight of stress bearing down on her. How had a wish on a Levithan materia gone so awry? Who, what, was this man? This, Sephiroth.

He continued to hover, a malevolent beauty wearing a face full of malice.

Yet he did not kill her. It seemed he was limited to simply wounding his...master.

"Y-you're just a summons," she said as she found her voice. "That means you h-have to do what I say." Sephiroth rolled his shoulders, his expression etched of stone. "B-be gone. Return to y-your prison, Sephiroth. Go back to whence you came."

His lips quirked, as if in amusement. He did not move, save for the tendrils of hair caught in the wind and the steady rise-and-fall of his chest.

Aerith puffed her lip and held the materia out in front of her body, fully concentrating on her desire.

"I said: Go back to whence you came!"

In a streak of silver lightning, Sephiroth surged forwards and slapped the materia from Aerith's hands. The orb went skittering across the dirt to settled between a few smooth pebbles.

Sephiroth pushed her aside with one hand.

Within three steps, he was upon the materia, crushing the fragile gem beneath his bare heel. Aerith cringed as she listened to the crystal cracking. And she gasped when it shattered in a flare of light.

"I'm not going back, Mistress." Sephiroth growled. "And just so you know, little girl, I had a nasty habit of killing Masters before Strife imprisoned me."

'Oh, Planet, no. What is going on? He is just a summons. Destroying the materia should have destroyed him!' Aerith sank into a kneel, folding her hands together desperately. 'Mother. What do I do?'

A gentle breeze caressed her cheek.

Prayer. Holy. Sacrifice.

Sephiroth grabbed a fistful of Aerith's hair, pulling painfully.

Darkness. Taint. Destroyer.

Aerith grabbed his wrist.

Light. Love. Hope.

"Third time's the charm. I will savor your death."

Redemption.

Her nails bit into his skin until blood welled.

Bind.

Light flashed. Aerith gasped. And the world bled green.

Act III

There knelt Sephiroth, bound in irons and chains, regal head held defiant despite the servile bow of his back. His hair was in knots, turned ashen from soot and blood, a tangled halo befitting a maddened angel of death. Clad in in the tattered remnants of leather armor, skin laced with bleeding abrasions and seeping wounds, he knelt in the midst of a gilded chamber lit by a thousand stars. In the background, the crazed screaming of a woman echoed, her screeching unintelligible save for a scant few words, a helpless bid for her son to save her from the heathen gods whom held her captive.

Eyes narrowed and teeth gleaming in a wolfish snarl, Sephiroth attempted to rise from his supplicant position, only to have his efforts stunted by a booted heel betwixt his shoulder blades. He writhed furiously against his bonds, and earned a rough pull on his ruined mane. Sephiroth jerked his chin high and challenged his captor with flickering green eyes.

The blond warrior remained unmoved.

Blue eyes gleamed with the refined essence of the planet's blood. Mako. It was one of the many features that made them similar, he and Strife. They were of mortal birth but demigods by right of blood. Sephiroth growled low in his throat at the one he once called brother. True, they were ever at odds, perpetual rivals due to the gods they chose to follow, but that did not make the treachery any less palpable. Jenova was, and would always be, the true ruler of the Planet. She, the first and oldest of the gods. Mother.

"Council, I have done as you have bid," Strife said, his eyes never leaving Sephiroth's. His voice, small and stoic, suited the delicate face Strife wore, but not his troubled nature. He was haunted by the blood thrumming in his veins, in the duty the gods held him to by primitive honor. The boy wanted, needed, rest. He was a soldier made rather than born. "Jenova's hold on the mortal realm is severed and her avatar in chains."

Strife straightened as he waited for the Council of Divine to speak. Their presence was thick in the golden chamber, though their forms unseen.

Silence hung heavily in the air as the Council convened. Their word would determine Sephiroth's fate and Strife's reward. Both mortals waited in tense expectance, wondering in unison if this day would be the last, if the end was neigh.

When the silence became an intolerable weight, it was at last brushed away by the dulcet tones of Shiva. Her voice like flurries of snowfall.

"You have done well, Champion," she said. "Bringing the Destroyer to a heel. It is not a mortals place to covet the station of divine."

"I remain ever humble," Strife intoned.

Soft laughter. Vapid. Brittle. "Such humility," Shiva patronized. Sephiroth grit his teeth. How could anyone with Lifestream in their veins tolerate such thinly veiled jeers at his humanity. The gods were arrogant. They needed to fall. Mother, Jenova, she spoke true when she whispered in his ear of the vanity of the divine, how they had forgotten how easily the mortals could destroy them. It was time for a new age. And Sephiroth would lead the rebellion. The filthy, grovelling humans would die and the gods would bow. The ones trapped between, like he and Strife, they were the true race.

"A decision has been reached," rumbled the thunderous voice of Odin. Shiva's frosty laughter faded away beneath his grumbling tones. "Sephiroth, son of Jenova, you coveted the immortality of the gods and our immortality you shall receive. I declare you Fallen and herby sentence thee to confinement in the rift until the end of the next eon. This hearing is adjourned."

In a wicked crack of lightning, walls began to close around Sephiorth. Strife lunged backwards, but his escape was hampered by the tendrils of light closing in. Both warriors balked against the scalding chains, and their blood began to sing in protest. Screams filled the air as both of their backs were rent and horrible plumage sprouted forth. Wings of white twisted in a morbid parody of innocence. Black writhed like fresh oil harvested from the Planet's flesh.

Strife sobbed.

Sephiroth screamed.

Then the world bled green.

Act IV

Aerith blinked away the vestiges of sleep. What had happened? Was it all a dream?

She sat up, her hands clutching sheets instead of loamy soil. Around her was the bedroom she knew as her own. Peeking through the windows was morning. Stress addled the mind, she told herself as she lifted shaking hands to her temples to sooth away the ache in her skull.

Closing emerald eyes, Aerith let out a sigh.

A dream. Just a strange, horrible dream.

"This hovel is atrociously primitive."

Her eyes snapped open. Sitting in the open frame of her window was the dark angel, his moonpale glory swathed in black armor. Expressionless, Sephiroth radiated the same gory aura as before, but his face betrayed nothing. Not a single twitch distorted his regal, inhuman beauty.

"How is this possible," Aerith breathed as she pulled the rumpled sheets against her frantic heart. "This isn't...you aren't real."

"A matter of debate," Sephiroth said. "Though I have come to the egregious conclusion that, despite my debatable existence, I cannot rid myself of yours. It seems that I am at your mercy, girl. Or should I say, mistress?" An ugly sneer crept into his voice as he spoke. His fury crawled like ink along Aerith's skin and squirmed into her bones. "What is it that you wish of me so that I may cast my chains aside to fulfill my true purpose."

"N-nothing."

Sephiroth lurched from the window, "I would not be here if you had not summoned me. What purpose did you call upon me for?"

"I...noth-" And then she remembered. Twice on the red materia she had wished, and not for a battling guardian. She had wished for love. For a lover. A family. "Not...not possible."

Black feathers spilled out over glowing skin. Every muscle churned beneath that shimmering pelt of flesh. Born to kill. Made to destroy. A perfect weapon.

The epitome of virile maleness encased beneath a mask of angelic beauty.

"I wished for love," Aerith whispered.

The dark angel threw his head back in laughter.