Sowing Betrayal
There had been a time long ago when he cared for humans. But sometimes, it feels like it was all just a dream. A cold, unforgiving dream. Amaimon-centric

A/N: This idea spurred from the fact that in one of the extra pages of the manga it said that at one time Amaimon was thought of as a deity/god. I assume he was a god of harvest, but who knows? Anyway, this only my second time writing in first-person so please go easy on me (and the fact that it's Amaimon of all people) ^^' As usual, constructive criticism is very much appreciated!

Warnings: slight AU-ness (it's not canon but it doesn't really break the ANE universe) and violence/gore. Also some angst. So basically, the usual warnings that apply to a bored/angry Amaimon. Oh, and some religious references.

Rating: T+

Genre: Tragedy, Angst, Supernatural

Disclaimer: I do not own Blue Exorcist

"In all known time there has never been a greater monster or miracle than the human being."

Assiah was exciting.

It was populated by these strange beings brother called humans. And we could walk and live here too, if we took one of their bodies as our own. I don't really remember when I got my host, but I've had this body for a while now. It doesn't fight against me anymore and sometimes I even forget that it wasn't mine to begin with.

At first, when I had just learned to possess a human body, it was really painful. It hurt. I still had the human's memories, dreams, aspirations (everything that made humans human and demons monsters)—but those faded away a long time ago. The pain though, never really ends. Sometimes, I can still feel the host's conscience ghost over my (his) limbs, weakly pulling against me. Whenever I feel even the slightest tug I bite my nails, grounding myself in the physical, human world.

It works… most of the time.

Most demons have to fight against their hosts all the time, to keep control over a body that doesn't belong to them. That's why falling asleep is the most dangerous thing a demon can do. Even though my host rarely fights me anymore, I still can't fall asleep easily. I guess it's just a habit now, or the sugar.

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Brother told me that the longer a demon inhabits a single body, the more likely the human's soul was to be tainted. It's a strange thought because I don't really know what souls look like (brother says they taste divine; I've always been fond of real flesh) but if I had to guess I imagine my host's soul is probably black. I've asked other demons and they say souls taste sweet—very, very sweet. Like candy. I'll continue to eat lollipops instead since they are a lot less noisy and don't complain when they get eaten.

The host also takes on the demon's appearance. I don't remember but brother says my host used to have black hair. And brown eyes. I think he picked him out for me. He said that the host was 'someone who wouldn't be missed.' And I believed him 'cause brother's always been smarter than me.

He's always liked playing with his food, creating a wonderful 'play' for his little humans to perform in. And then when they outgrew their usefulness or became boring he'd throw them away. It just seems like too much effort. Besides, if they were going to end up dead anyway why not kill them with your own hands? Mind games require too much patience; I like the feeling of blood against my claws much more.

…It's something we still disagree on, even after all these years.

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I didn't really know what I wanted to do when I entered Assiah for the first time all those years ago, following after the second strongest Gehennan king. Brother had a different name then. Not Mephisto Pheles. Or Johann Faust. I asked him what I should do. He told me to travel the world, so I did.

Assiah was a lot quieter during that time. It was also darker and colder. But, it wasn't bad. There was still war and murder and disease, but the atmosphere was different. There was... hope. Despite everything, despite having such short, fragile lives, all the humans I saw were happy.

They were happy in their poverty. Happy to be poor and uneducated. To do back-breaking labor day in and day out. And then, at the end of the day, they would get on their knees and pray, thanking God for everything he had given them. Thanking Him for pestilence and war and a bad harvest. Thanking Him for their short, agony-filled lives even when another relative (perhaps a brother, sister, mother) died of some air-borne illness. They whispered these prayers even at their death beds, holding onto flimsy wooden crosses as the shadow of death loomed over them.

...It was, and still is, very confusing.

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I went somewhere new. Where people were even more superstitious and believed in many gods instead of one. It's where I realized that humans were interesting.

It was also where I realized humans could be just as cruel as demons.

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Even when I paraded around in human flesh I just couldn't experience 'emotion'. I didn't get sad when something died or 'fall' in love when I gazed into someone's eyes (demon or otherwise) for a long time. And brother wouldn't explain these emotions to me. So I decided to do my own research. I guess that's why I was drawn to that village in the first place.

It was a quaint little hamlet, hidden between two lush mountains. As fortune would have it, many demons made the crags and towering oaks of the mountains their homes, causing problems for the humans in the village. Hobgoblins would often streak through the grains of wheat, ruining their harvest and stealing the few surviving bushels.

Many people in the village began to starve. They cried out to their gods, especially to those of harvest and prayed for relief. It was funny because the times that they were really praying to something the 'deity' was always a demon. And demons don't help humans for free, usually. I watched with slight interest as the demons that had made the village their home drifted away, either too tired of the humans' cries or bored by the slow decline of human life. I stayed, however, watching my kin destroy the village.

…Even now I don't really know why I stayed.

I watched as whole families disappeared, swept away by both plague and pestilence. Watched as little human children were left alone, destined to die as their parents did, starved and without hope. It was then that I began to notice the difference between these villagers and the ones I had seen before.

They were not happy in their suffering. They did not accept their fate; they tried desperately to overcome it, building irrigation systems in an attempt to revive their harvest. It did not work; it was obvious that it wouldn't work, not without rain. But, every day, the few remaining villagers with enough strength tilled the barren fields, looking up to the sky for even a drop of rain.

I stopped keeping count after the third month of drought.

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Watching humans die became boring, at least when I wasn't the one directly causing it.

The whole village was nearly decimated at this point. Only a handful of families remained. While those who had not died immediately during the drought moved to neighboring villages, a few remaining villagers stayed, stubbornly set in their ways. They said something about 'honor' and 'dignity' but I only saw foolishness. Why stay when everyone around you is dying?

Yet, there was something… noble (I think that is what humans call it) in their disparity. They never gave up, even when they were inches from their death beds. It reminded me of how demons who fought against me would continue to fight even when it was obvious they would die. Even when they had lost limbs and appendages and could only speak with gurgled gasps. It was strange, but I silently wished that I too could find a reason to live. Being a demon could be dreadfully boring, after all…

Eventually, whether it was due to sheer boredom or the emotion humans call 'pity' I told my familiars to stop their attacks. The hobgoblins and other earth-bound demons returned to their forests. Those who wouldn't heed my word were quickly dispatched and sent back to Gehenna. I then made the clouds release their rain and returned the strong breeze needed for the crops to thrive. Soon, it seemed that the villagers' bad luck had finally ended and that fall they had a bountiful harvest. It wasn't long until people started to make up stories to explain why the wind had started blowing at just the right angle or why the rain had hit at exactly the right time.

They made a small shrine in the center of town, offering a portion of their harvests. I didn't take any of it; I cared little for human trinkets. Slowly, more and more people began to believe in the deity that protected their harvest and eventually, festivals were made in my honor.

They called me Amaimon.

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Winter was a slow time.

Few crops grew at this time and only a handful of wheat fields remained, but the villagers continued to send me prayers and gifs at my shrines. It was strange; I had never been thought of as a benevolent spirit until then. Surprisingly, my urge to murder and kill decreased. I was content with killing off those of my domain and other lesser demons who stepped too close to the village. And, for a while, I felt what humans call 'content.'

On a whim I decided to appear to the villagers. Revealing myself in the middle of the square, many froze on the spot, taking in my inhuman eyes and dangerous claws. Silence followed. It seemed they were not prepared to find out that the 'god' they had prayed to was, in fact real, and most certainly did not have the appearance of a benevolent spirit.

"I am who you call Amaimon." I said, turning towards the two closest humans. They were two siblings, the only ones brave enough to venture towards me. I saw their parents huddled in the crowd, crying for them to run from me, but too frightened to move forward. The children did not heed their words.

The young girl gave me a huge grin, offering a flower from her basket. "You're the one who made it so flowers could grow again, right?"

I nodded. She gave a happy laugh, tugging at the boy's hand beside her. "See, I told you! Amaimon's real!"

She offered the flower again, nearly shoving it into my clawed grip. "You can have this. I have lots at home, thanks to you!"

I took the flower, carefully holding it between my thumb and index finger. The boy spoke up this time, looking shyly at the ground. "T-thanks for keeping the village safe. I saw those… monsters. The little green and red ones that used to destroy our harvest. You're the one who kept them away."

It was definitely not the response I was expecting. Fear, hate, anger, these were human emotions that I had grown accustomed to. But, these little humans who I could break with a flick of my wrist had wrapped themselves around my knees. I knew that the smiles on their faces equated to happiness, but it was strange to know that I was the cause of it. I almost went to gently pry one of the children from my leg until an angry voice cut in.

"Let go of them, demon!" The father yelled, brandishing a pitchfork. I eyed the weapon with only a tinge of annoyance. I stepped forward, balling my hands into fists only to have the two children pull at me again. This time, I was slightly annoyed.

"D-don't hurt him! Please!" They cried in unison, looking up at me with wide, naïve orbs. I took one last glance at the man; he seemed particularly weak and not even worth killing.

I gave a cold glare to the crowd, folding my arms. "I… mean no harm. For now."

The children took this as good news and went to hold my hand. I gazed curiously at them, but they continued to smile. I didn't know human children could be so… odd.

Already, the crowd had split into two, leaving a large gap for me to walk through. The children followed at my side, chatting animatedly to me about mundane, everyday human things. I took a quick turn to the right, depositing the humans to their parents. The mother gave a thankful nod, but the father continued to glare at me when he thought I wasn't looking. I returned the flower to the girl, explaining that there were plenty of flowers in Amahara, my domain in Gehenna. She gave a slow nod, processing my words.

"Okay! I'll give you something that's not in Gehenna next time!" She cheered, stumbling over the pronunciation of Gehenna. The boy nodded in agreement.

I then disappeared into the surrounding forest, leaving the crowd in a sea of gasps and whispers. What I didn't know was that the village elder had already sent word for an exorcist.

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I visited the village from time to time, receiving gifts from the two children. Most of my shrines had been destroyed and reduced to ash at the reveal of my true nature. Not that I minded. Prayers were annoying things to listen to, after all. I continued to watch over the village, partly from sheer habit and partly because I had nothing better to do.

The children explained human games to me and offered me sweets, something that was definitely lacking in Gehenna. I was particularly fond of the chocolate. One evening, I even participated in a game of 'hide and go seek.'

The two ran through the fields of wheat, giggling as I watched them with confusion. At first, I didn't understand the rules and waited where they had left me. It was only later that I realized you were supposed to 'find' them. I tried again and counted to one-hundred (the girl told me that it was of the utmost importance that I did so) before searching for them again.

I let them run away, taking slow steps as I followed them through the field. This 'game' continued for a while until the children had to go home. Both children had given me 'hugs,' declaring their affection for me, making me promise to visit them again tomorrow. It had grown dark and I returned to the forest, making my home in one of the large life-giving oaks.

It was the only time I had ever felt 'happy' without killing or fighting.

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One day in the spring, the village was empty. I knew immediately what had happened. Seals and barriers were set up around the village, barring me entry. I took to the field of wheat where I often played with the children, finding an exorcist there.

He immediately doused me in holy water, whispering a few sutras. It burned my skin and I growled, eyes narrowing into slits. I attacked him immediately, not realizing that the two human children were there. They had probably snuck away from their parents, wanting to save me from some horrible fate. But now, they saw the real truth. Saw me for who— what I was: a demon. They looked at me wide-eyed and fearful as I shifted into my demon form, lizard-like tail ripping away at the grains of wheat. The transformation did its intended affect; they ran away crying. Never once did they look back at me. I killed the exorcist quickly (tore him limb from limb until nothing but his bones remained) and without pleasure before leaving the village forever, to return to Gehenna.

I knew now that humans who weren't boring could only be cruel. I did not want to experience any emotion again, other than excitement when I fought and killed. It was easier, this way. Demons had no need for human emotion. As brother said, true human emotion was only a weakness. It was the easiest way for a demon to be killed.

"Hmm? What was that, Amaimon?" Mephisto questioned, floating towards the restrained Earth King.

The demon gurgled out a reply, claws reaching violently for the violet-haired man. Mephisto chuckled, waggling his finger patronizingly. He took a few steps back, just out of reach of the demon skewered on metal spikes. Amaimon hissed again, cerulean orbs narrowed to slits.

"Now Amaimon, didn't I tell you that I wouldn't let you leave until you curbed your desire to harm Rin Okumura? While I appreciate that you don't seem as hell-bent on attacking him, I didn't mean for you to redirect your anger on me. I'm just trying to help you, really."

"…Liar." He grounded out bitterly, nearly biting his tongue from the incomprehensible pain. Inside one of Mephisto's dimensions a few minutes could feel like a century and vice-versa. The green-haired demon had no idea whether an hour or a millennium had gone by, trapped in his darkened cell.

"I would make you apologize for that comment but you're obviously still not in the right frame of mind. I'll visit again later." Before Amaimon could respond, the Demon King disappeared, leaving nothing but a flash of gaudy smoke.

Eyes tipped to the single flickering light above him that mocked him so cruelly (which was, of course, no accident), tears began to drip from his cerulean eyes. The liquid traced the contours of his cheeks until they dropped into the dark abyss under him, making no sound. Not even a hollow tap to fill the aching silence of his prison. He did not know whether the tears came from the pain of the spikes or the memories.

Reaching up once more, he strained to touch the warm light, claws outstretched. Until, even that too faded away, leaving the demon with only broken memories and darkness.

A/N: Poor Amaimon T-T I don't know why I like torturing characters so much… anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this little oneshot! Sorry if Amaimon's a bit OOC; I tried to keep him IC, but I do realize that some of his actions may not appear so.

Review?

-Isis