#boohoo ratman BTFO

[littledeathh]

Prompt: abandoned by Mohg

The jewel of the Dynasty.

Varré writhed at your feet. You'd dropped him like a sack of potatoes and now he was lying in fetal position just before the cocoon of the Empyrean.

"Oh, Luminary Mohg..."

You nudged his head with your boot to better gaze upon his Lord.

"Please grant the strength... you promised. I have given... Everything..."

Rage beyond what he'd ever imaged humans were capable of boiled beneath his white mask, but he ignored you.

"Please... My Lord... Please? ...Luminary Mohg..."

He was absorbed in prayer.

A powerful shardbearer, holding the runes of several demigods. Varré had eyed your weakness. Him. If he played his cards right, he could have brought in the single most powerful asset to the Mohgwyn Dynasty.

He became intimate with you, despite his rule of thumb not to get too tangled with the Tarnished he recruited. Most would've lost themselves to bloodlust before long anyway.

He may have brought you to the edge and touched you, but he knew, your allegiance was with him foremost. And not his Lord.

Yet, when he injected his Lord's blood into you, you weren't overcome by bloodlust. This posed a problem. Your self-interest, your identity, remained.

You later learned he'd swiftly returned to the Dynasty Mausoleum, awaiting you to succumb, and didn't bother seeking you out further.

He gently let go of your hand. Nothing at stake.

'You have the sweetest scream. My lambkin...'

The touch of his fingers seemed to linger. A sweet smile graced his sleepy eyes, the only genuine one you'd seen on him.

But there was no goodbye. No message.

His final words echoed in your mind.

'One day you will be elevated, deservedly! Basking — in love. ...Right, my lambkin?'

'He he he.'

From under his breath, he laughed at you.

Your "shining ray of hope", mocking you from the very beginning.

But when you approached the dark corridor, the red hue of your eyes had long vanished.

"Oh dear. A pity it's come to this. My lambkin..."

His heel clicked against the stone as he took a single step forward, out of the deep shadow.

He sneered, voice clear.

"What business does a maidenless wretch like you have here? Did you come seeking violence upon learning my esteemed position, under Luminary Mohg?"

"...You disappoint me." His voice quickly turned dispassionate. "Well, no sense in sparing your life now. I'll take pleasure in ensuring you regret this."

You crouched down and peeled the mask off him. He limped pathetically, averting his eyes. He looked as if he was a puddle of red stuck to your boot.

He made the effort to turn his head to the side to shield his face, despite the light fading from his eyes. He was curled up, his arms uselessly covering the red blossoming on his tarp, gathering into a dark pool.

You probed his chest. His hands were cold.

You balanced the weight of his surprisingly heavy head against your palm, trying to avoid grabbing him roughly by the jaw. Your fingers dug into his soft lips, contorting his eyes into a disgusted expression. He wanted to bite your finger off, but an imaginary wall firmly stopped him from making the move. Even making small groans of pain was taking a toll on him.

With your other hand, you pressed the cold rim of the smooth glass flask to his parted lips, tipping over a small stream of crimson tears against his teeth.

He shuddered, deepening the wrinkles on his tired, aging face. You fingertips pressed back into his lip, and he swallowed.

"I'm going to murder you."

In an instant, he had lunged at you, obscuring the light as he pinned you roughly, grabbing painfully at your wrists as if trying to tear you open with his nails. He could've been foaming at the mouth.

His eyes bore into you, just empty pits now, too dazed to even strangle you.

You grit your teeth.

"No, you won't."

The Great Rune loomed over your head, painting your vision red, showering you in blood. The blessing of the Formless Mother.

Varré's scowl cracked and let out a squeal of madness, clawing his scalp in despair, before pushing you into the ground and slamming your head against the rock as many times as he could muster.

His breath was heavy, whimpering beneath his fingers.

"Oh, Luminary Mohg..."

He wanted to crack your skull, but all he managed was a stream of bitter tears, the tension in his diaphragm pushing out wave after wave of viscous blood.

There were no words to exchange. Feeling sorry for him felt crooked, but pushing him just to see how his Lord discarded him may have been too cruel.

His sobs ran out, loosening old blood encrusted upon his gloves into red streaks on his face as he wiped his tears away.

Bloodshot eyes, blubbering sallow cheeks, without even his mask to shield him. You had never seen him quite so pathetic and broken.

His wailing stopped and a leaden silence fell over his breathing.

"You wretched whore."

He was fixed upon your eyes.

"Is this what you'd kill Luminary Mohg for? This?"

His dead eyes approached your face, half lidded and puffy, dark with grief and years of planning, brought to a halt. You think he knew what he implied.

"Well. I have no words left for you."

A lifeless sigh. "You have brought me to the end of the road..."

His messy hair obscured his eyes, keeping still as a statue. You took care not to touch him as you tilted your face outwards, closing the distance between your lips. For once, it felt raw and human, feeling the softness of his lips and the tingle of his jaw.

He had no verve left to oppose you and stayed quiet, melting into the kiss.

You pulled back. Varré betrayed nothing. He swiftly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

In a ghostly motion he picked up his mask and slipped it under his veil, and finally he looked at you. A dull glance.

He dusted himself off as he got up and shuffled his pockets, pulling out his Pureblood Knight's Medal. With his Lord gone and his plans brought to a standstill, he had little reason to stay here much longer.

Varré glanced at the Empyrean and wondered if it had all been for nothing.

With his back turned to you, he lightly cocked his head in resignation.

"Varré, wait..."

He gripped the medal in his fingers. You truly had some cheek. He turned, blank-faced.

"What is it?"

You wanted to apologise, but the insincerity stopped the words from coming out.

"...Where are you going?"

"Back to my world – obviously..." The words dripped in snark. "What could I possibly be doing here, when you've decided to kill the very person you'd pledged allegiance to?" Your lips pursed.

"I am going back, to my world. To worship Luminary Mohg."

Oh... Of course he would. Hubris overtook you and allowed you to think you could pry him away from his Lord, if only you killed him. But you merely cut Varré off from yours.

You suddenly realised that his objective wasn't necessarily to worship Mohg, but to spread his word to other Tarnished, in their worlds.

It clicked that his plan was to spill all blood for the Empyrean, including that of other Bloody Fingers. Nerijus, Eleonora, the Sanguine Nobles had all attacked you in their invasions.

Everyone under Varré was a labourer.