Of Vices and Virtues (Morningstar!Ithaqua×Reader)
AN: In which I go insane and finally succumb to the urge to write an unhealthy relationship instead of a nice, safe, and sane one.
Also, to the people who were waiting for this fic, I am so sorry for the wait. I kept on forgetting it existed and also kept doubting myself since this is pretty different from what I usually do. Hope you enjoy it, even if it isn't the best!
Word count: 2.7k words
TW: Blood, violence, general insanity, and unhealthy relationships.
Summary: You've always seen things others couldn't. When you met him, you were enamored by his unique nature. Perhaps you should have taken it as a warning. Perhaps, you should have ran. Instead, you drew closer.
It all started years ago when things were simpler. You were a child, and so was he. He was someone who bore the face of the future king, the Lord of Babel, the sun of the kingdom. You? You were just a simple peasant. No one noteworthy, not in appearance, personality, or skill. How could you be? You were a child.
Yet, when your paths crossed, it immediately changed you two. Your futures, your destinies which never should have merged, crashed together. The moment your eyes met his, it was over. You could never be normal again. After all, how could a mortal stay sane in the presence of a God?
He was your beginning, and surely he would be your end.
The lady who lived in the forest was odd, but kind. She would give you and your family medicine, never asking for anything in return. You didn't think that was very fair, so you gave her flowers. The prettiest ones you could find in the wild, hidden within the crevices of gnarled roots and heavy bushes.
You liked her quite well, which your parents found surprising. You never seemed to like most adults. They all brushed it off as shyness, laughing heartily as you scampered away.
It wasn't quite that, though.
The way you gazed at people with distrust was never on unfounded grounds. Children, for however random and silly adults believe them to be, are far too perceptive for their own goods.
You've always seen things others couldn't see. You knew not to tell, especially when the curling shadows at those peoples feet hissed and snarled silently. It was a warning, seething quietly around the liars with masks. You learned quickly that they were not people to be trusted.
The problem was, most adults held such secrets with them. Their perfect disguises of the kind neighbor and good samaritan were nothing before your eyes. Their performances of being righteous and pure sickened you. It churned your guts and set alight a blaze of fury inside you that you didn't understand.
You couldn't stand it, so you chose to run.
Thankfully, with her, it was never like that. She had the aura of what you think angels would have. It was warm, gentle, and bright, like a bonfire on a cold winter night. It made you feel comfortable, it made you feel safe. Honestly, you sometimes wished she were your mother so you could bask in her presence forever.
Of course, that is not the case, and you like your parents well. They had no roaring shadows, just a light brush of soothing sunlight. It was sweet and inoffensive, just a whisper of heat and kind words. That, too, you appreciated.
It was why you listened to them well, doing your best to be a good child for them. When they asked you for help, you were always up to the challenge. You'd smile brightly, determination glistening within your eyes and your heart set on fulfilling your mission.
Today was one such day, leading you to a cottage in the woods. Your parents requested that you gave the lady of the forest a package. The task felt more like a blessing than a burden. You got to help your parents and see one of your favorite people in the world! How could you not be happy?
Standing before the worn alder door, you carefully shift your bag as you knock. You rock back and forth, humming cheerfully as you wait for her to answer. The sounds of shuffling footsteps can be heard behind the door, making you smile.
When it opens, your smile slips as you stare blankly. Before your eyes stands not your favorite person in the world, but a child. He has wispy, light blond hair, so light it's white. His eyes are like charcoal, both dark and burning as he stares holes into you. It's half a glare and half a stare, more of a glare, really.
For a few moments, you're stunned. Not really at the fact that the lady had a child you never knew, but at the darkness and light that surround him in equal parts.
Children never had such prominent representations of good or evil on them, having been born with a neutral conscience. They were surrounded by barely flickering echoes of right and wrong, never quite lasting.
Yet, here he was, a child with both virtue and vice wrapped tightly around him. It intrigues you, beckoning you forward like a siren's call.
Before you know it, you've taken his face in your hands and tilted it to look closer. At what, you're not quite sure. All you do is drink in his features like a man starved, staring at him with such intensity you'd feel embarrassed if you were clear headed.
You expect him to fight back once you realize what you've done, but all he does is stare back with equal intensity, challenging you. It makes you smile, an odd feeling of pride and a desire to crush that will of his coming from the depths of your heart. It makes you pause in surprise, letting go of his face and stepping back.
"I'm sorry." You say, fiddling with the straps of your bag as you look away. It was rather unlike you to act this way, or to have such a violent thought. You shook your head to clear them of such things.
"Why are you here?" He asks harshly, ignoring your apology. You accept that considering you were quite rude to him.
"I'm here to deliver a package to the nice lady. Is she home?" You look over his shoulder for any hint of her. He blocks your view, his glare intensifying. He looks like he's about to say no when a familiar voice cuts him off.
"Ah! You shouldn't be here!"
You can't tell if she's referring to you or him. In a few minutes, she's taken you inside the house and given you snacks. The boy pouts as the lady of the forest scolds him, warning him not to open the door to strangers.
You chew on a cookie as you continue to stare at the warped shapes of his soul shift around him. It's warmer now, brighter. It's sentient and alive, happily glowing in the presence of the nice lady. You can't blame him, you like her a lot too.
At the same time, you can't help but wonder what it'll take for his shadows to devour the light.
You calmly give the lady the package and thank her for the snacks, brushing crumbs off your hands. She pats you, causing you to smile as you relish in the gentle touch. She tells you to come again, to play with her son. You don't think he'd like to, but you're willing to try.
With a wave and a smile, you're off. You ignore the no longer hostile stare that follows you out.
Seeing as you're no liar, you meet him again. You keep your promise to visit, and thus a tender friendship begins. The boy is surprisingly nice at times. He's simultaneously so ordinary, yet unusual.
He smiles when you trip, but he always helps you up. He hides your things, but always ends up telling you where they are. He says rather mean things, but his actions never match his words.
He's weird, but you like him. Unlike the others your age, he's quite interesting. The shared soft spot you both have for his mother certainly helps, and before you know it, you're friends.
"Why don't you ever leave the forest?" You ask one day, pulling weeds out of the garden. His mother's garden was in need of some help, so you decided to work on it with the boy. He diligently works, even though he hates the sunlight.
"Mother says I shouldn't be seen by others. You're okay, though." You accept the answer easily. You figured that was the case, anyway.
After the official debut of the future king, a prince around your age, you realized a lot more things than you thought you would. You're sure his mother knows you know, but neither of you mention it. For you, it's none of your business. For her, it's a secret she must take to her grave.
You're quite good at keeping secrets. You're sure she knows that, too. You also know her secrets will one day consume her whole, however. They always do.
You wonder how he'll react that day.
Ever since you met the lady of the forest, red became your favorite color. It's the color of her hair, of the ladybugs in her garden, and of the tiles on your house's roof. It's a sweet color, one of pure and good memories.
That changes the day you turn of age.
You watch in horror as she's brought before a cheering crowd, a spectacle for people to watch. He's next to you, his face covered and a cloak hiding his hair. His eyes shake as he stares at the cruel stage, the start of a scene he'd never want to see showing right before his eyes.
Her chains jingle like cruel church bells, hair a tangled mess as she's dragged across the crude boards of the stage. Splinters stab at her feet, fresh wounds and old ones bleeding red as she's roughly slammed into a wooden contraption. She gasps in pain as they lock it in place, the final Wham! of the wood marking the end of her judgment.
You both look on in stunned shock as the blade whistles down at the call of a man- a man who shares the same face as him. Time seems to slow as her eyes meet yours, silently, desperately, asking for help. Help you cannot give. Help you wish you could give.
Your heart screams as it is forced to face how powerless you are. It squeezes and squeezes as if someone were clutching it in their hand, hoping to inflict as much pain on you as possible while you are hopelessly, miserably left alive despite it.
The man's shadow laughs as the guillotine cuts off her life, destroying the warmth of her soul and putting it out. Like a lit candle in the wind, she's extinguished. She's gone.
The once comforting red of her hair is tainted by the ruthless sight of her blood painting the stage.
You vaguely think you hear something shatter, perhaps something inside of you or somewhere around you. You turn to look at him, your hands trembling, when you see it.
It seems to destroy light itself, yet hold it all the same. A black hole that displaces the refraction of light, like darkness that shines bright, it breaks free from the chains of what is perhaps the last of his humanity.
Perhaps it's the last of his sanity.
Glancing down at your own shadow, you laugh quietly as tears slip down your face. It's carried away by the cheers of the crowd and the deafening applause, going unheard. An unnatural smile stretches your face as you turn your head up to the sky.
If his darkness has light, your light holds darkness. With it, you'd both destroy everything that dared make you this way.
"I'll kill them, I'll kill them, I'll kill them." He's trembling in your arms, his body barely able to contain all his emotions. His rage, his sorrow, his pain, his tears, everything, it seems to pour out of him. You can only rub your hand comfortingly in circles on his back, eyes blank as you stare lifelessly at the wall.
He was suppressing himself as his feelings lashed out. You, however, were eerily empty.
You felt nothing, yet everything. It was like all your emotions had been tossed away, as though they'd never been there before. In its place, a cold, cruel rationality took over your mind. It plotted, it schemed, and it had only one goal.
"You will." You tell him. "We will."
It's a promise, and you don't break promises.
The sound of rumbling stones greets you in a familiar cacophony of noise. You revel in it, watching the statue's face fall and crumble. He stands before you now, so different from the sweet boy he was back then. That's partially your fault, admittedly.
You held him that day, when the world had fallen apart. You'd promised him justice, you promised him peace. You promised him the world and everything in it, because that was what he deserved. He deserved it so he could ruin it, since really, did anything matter anymore? When she was gone, she died, you'd never see her alive, you couldn't understand why-
You sighed, shivering as a cold breeze blew through the area. It doesn't matter now. You'd found your peace. You'd gotten your revenge.
Turning your gaze to the figure before the desecrated statue, you smile widely. He does the same, spreading out his arms as he laughs maniacally. He, too, had gained his vengeance.
"The tower shall fall, and new lies will be treated as the word of god. The morning star is the true king!" He sweeps the air in front of him, hand outstretched to you. You step forward, placing a hand in his. His grin seems to grow wider at that, his grip becoming more firm as he pulls you into his arms.
"And you, my evening dawn, will stand by my side. We'll rule the greedy, the disloyal, and the unworthy. The dogs in crowns will remain at our feet, and it will not matter who stands before us." He laughs as he bites your neck, hard enough to draw blood. You only laugh in return, the pain as sweet as the taste of power.
His hair, now pure white like the feathers on a dove, glows in the brilliant light of the sun. His eyes, once a beautifully deep onyx, are like translucent opal. The red you once grew to hate, tainted by blood, is made again your favorite color. It drapes him from head to toe in majesty, deeming him a true god amongst men.
He pulls you up into a kiss, his lips tasting of your blood and dust. The taste of your own blood upon your tongue makes you laugh. Anything is sweet when it comes from him, from his lips, even the underlying tastes of iron and danger, the possessive curling of his claws.
When you finally draw away from each other, your faces are flushed. You both pant lightly, giggling like school children as you hold each other close. His hold speaks of love, of desire, of a feeling so encapsulating, so damning, he'd rather kill you than let you leave his side.
His shadow says so much more.
It curls around your own, protecting it, stealing it, tugging and holding it like it wants to merge with yours. The darkness tries to devour your light, but it's only a pointless cycle where one cannot destroy the other. They're two sides of the same coin, cultivated into a writhing mass of what you're sure anyone else would claim to be insanity.
You hum in joy, resting your forehead against his chest. He needs you as desperately as you need him. He'll never leave you, and you could never leave him. No one could ever take you away from each other.
"You're all I have." He tenderly murmurs, dragging a claw down your spine. You shiver as you look up at him, smiling. "And I am all you have."
"I love you. Only two things will ever have me, and it'll be you and death." You respond, meaning every word. He knows as well as you do that you mean it, and he rewards you with another kiss. It's sweeter than the last, an addicting pull that makes you yearn for more. More and more and more, until you suffocate.
You'll treasure him for the rest of your life. He's your precious partner, isn't he? You should hold him close and treat him right. Isn't that what they taught you?
You smile, something akin to a nightmare, as you turn. He stands by your side as you saunter over to the gilded cage, the traitors shaking within.
"What do you think, mother, father?"
He was your beginning, and he will be your end.
@ithaquakisser, @xiaosmary
