Forbidden Fruit

A long long time ago there once lived an ancient race of winged people called the Icari. They were said to be the most beautiful of all the races of the world. Some say that with their downy wings as white as the snow on the highest of mountains and their unearthly beauty they were even more beautiful than the gods themselves. Legend tells us that the Icari, although a peaceful people, began to grow jealous of the gods and their power. They wanted to be gods too and have millions worship at their feet. They rebelled against the gods and thus began The Great War.
The war raged on for years and both sides suffered heavy casualties before the Icari were finally defeated. The gods offered the survivors a choice, serve the gods or death. The gods stained the snowy wings of those that refused to submit to the gods' rule, black. A reminder of their defeat they were told and then they were cast out of paradise to their deaths. Those that submitted to gods' will, although granted the small mercy of keeping the whiteness of their wings, were forced to hide said wings and live as mortals. They were forced to bow to the every whim of their masters and were forbidden to speak of The Fallen, as the outcast Icari were now referred to.
But this legend is only a half truth. Concocted by the gods to elevate themselves further in the minds and hearts of their followers and to hide the true cause of The Great War. There are very few that survive from the era of The Great War and most are in hiding but they speak of what truly transpired. The Icari lived in harmony with the gods in paradise for many centuries. No one knows for sure what really happened but suddenly the gods became jealous of the Icari. They envied their beauty and scorned the fact that some of the gods' own followers had even begun to worship the winged people as a race of demi-gods. The gods decided that the Icari must be eliminated and that is how The Great War truly began. The survivors were indeed seperated into those that would die and those that would serve but the Icari didn't have a choice. Those that were given a death sentence were marked by black wings and thrown out of paradise to earth. Some died but many survived and managed to quite effectively hide themselves as humans. Those that were forced into servitude were made to hide their wings and told that The Fallen had all been destroyed and that it was forbidden to speak of them from now on. Any who did so would be put to death. This is where our story truly begins.
Seraphim and Hephastian were lovers before The Great War. Even as Icari they were uncommonly beautiful; Seraphim with his waist length black hair, his powerfully built body, ritualistic piercings. And then Hephastian. He was smaller than Seraphim with shoulder length obsidian hair, a slight but well muscled build, and he too bearing ritualistic piercings common among their people. They loved each other passionately and one was rarely ever seen without the other. Then the war began. They fought valiantly side by side protecting each other and their people. They fought hard but it did no good. One by one the Icari began to fall. The gods were dividing the survivors into two groups. Those they deemed would present a threat to them and those that would not. The strongest of the winged people were sorted out, had their snowy wings stained black and banished to earth to live out the rest of their lives as Fallen. The rest would become slaves to the gods. Thanatos, god of death and judgement, stood over the prisoners directing his minions on who went where. A deimos approached where Seraphim and Hephastian stood clinging to each other. Seraphim stroked Hephastian's hair and assured him it would be okay. He eyed the deimos and it took every ounce of his control to fight the panic that now threatened to engulf him as he steeled himself against what he must do. The deimos wrapped its scaled hand around Hephastian's arm and jerked him violently away from his lover.
"Seraphim!" he screamed, reaching out to his love. Seraphim watched the man being dragged away but made no move to help him. It was better this way. At least Hephastian would survive he told himself.
"Seraphim please! You can't leave me!" Hephastian thrashed against his captor but he was too weakened to put up much of a fight. He watched in horror as Seraphim's wings were tainted and he was marched to the edge of Paradise. A deimos cackled madly and kicked him in the midsection. Time seemed to move in slow motion as Seraphim was sent flying over the edge. Tears streamed down his cheeks, his gaze locked on Hephastian's. And then he was gone, plummeting to Earth far below.
"Seraphim!!" Hephastian broke free of his captor and ran for the edge fully intending to throw himself over and join his lover in death. The deimos he stunned recovered quickly though and was on him in seconds. His scaly guard snarled, grabbed him by his hair and dragged him kicking and screaming to the servant's quarters.
Years passed and Hephastian's hope of Seraphim returning to him dwindled. lately a few of the Fallen had taken to attacking the villages and cities of the gods' followers. The morale of the people was low and their faith in their gods faltered. As a result, the gods' power began to weaken. They needed to interfere and so they began to enlist their most talented warriors and train them as assassins. Devil Hunters they were called. Hephastian had been forced to enlist but regardless of his hatred of battle and violence, he flourished in the gods' military and quickly became a favorite of his superiors. He was well liked and his skills unmatched. It was for this reason his commanding officer, a former Icari like himself named Michael, recommended him for assassin training. He did well. He was efficient and merciless having long ago closed off his emotions.
The moon hung low in the sky obscured by clouds. A cool breeze rustled the leaves but nothing else moved. Hephastian crouched hidden in the shadows watching. It was time. He moved stealthily from his perch on the roof and dropped silently to the ground. A side door on the old abandoned church quietly opened and the Fallen he was assigned to kill finally emerged. The figure looked around as if he sensed something but finding no one walked forward and spread his black wings. Hephastian stepped out of the shadows to strike and froze. The clouds had moved on and the figure before him was suddenly and clearly illuminated. He was tall with waist length ebony hair, a powerful build, and silver piercings sparkling in the moonlight.
"Seraphim?!" he whispered. The man spun towards the sound.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
"Seraphim!" he said, louder this time. Tears were flowing freely down Hephastian's face now and he dropped his knife stepping into the light.
"Hephastian!" Seraphim gasped in surprise. Hephastian launched himself at Seraphim knocking them both to the ground in a tangled mess. Their lips met and their hands clawed hungrily at each other, feeling for anything and everything they could; hair, thigh, chest. They made love to each other then and there with wild abandon. It was as if their years apart had never happened. They finally fell asleep within each other's arms, exhausted and spent.
The first rays of morning light came far too soon. When Seraphim awoke Hephastian was already dressed and was staring out across the lake. Seraphim embraced him from behind and softly kissed the nape of his neck.
"I have to go." Hephastian responded, barely keeping the emotion in his voice in check.
"Come back again tonight?" It wasn't so much a question as a plea. Hephastian hesitated.
"They will kill us if they find out."
Seraphim didn't answer but instead merely nodded. He took his lover's face in his hands and kissed his forehead. "Come back to me." he whispered. Hephastian turned to leave and so began the most dangerous game they'd yet played.
They had been sneaking to see each other for a little over six months. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed Hephastian's stealthy behavior and had him tailed. The deimos that had caught him wrapped in Seraphim's arms head thrown back in pleasure had managed to escape and was sure to report his desertion to the gods. When he returned to paradise though no one acted as if anything was different. He knew their time was limited. A few weeks later as he prepared to leave for Earth and Seraphim he felt he was being watched.
"So it is time then." he said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. There was no answer and he hadn't really expected one.
Seraphim, standing shirtless and in a pair of low rise jeans outside the church, could tell something was wrong as Hephastian, clad all in black except for his wings, landed and approached him. He smiled. Neither of them spoke of what they both knew was to come. They entered the building making their way to the spacious room overlooking the lake that had been converted into a bedroom. Seraphim walked to the window looking at the cloudy sky beyond.
"A storm's rolling in." he commented. Hephastian embraced him from behind.
"A fitting end wouldn't you say?" he loosened his grip. Seraphim turned to face him. Light filtered lazily through the window illuminating his perfect skin and well-toned chest. Hephastian leaned in, his mouth finding Seraphim's collar bone. Seraphim's head tilted back exposing his neck to the beautiful black haired angel standing so close to him. Hephastian's tongue snaked its way from parted lips searching, tasting the sweet nectar that was the man before him. They clung to each other tightly in what they knew would be their last embrace.
A figure silently detached itself from the shadows. It was time....