#who fought against a dictatorship and brought down the ancient and powerful emperor

[enbeemagical]

Fuck this. Mommy issues OC is go. Vent fic because adulting is hard and leaving home is hard but sometimes going home is harder

Content warnings: noncon/dubcon kissing, misgendering, deadnaming, emotional abuse, guilt tripping

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Shadow. Darkness. Night-bringer. Sunset. Twilight. Dusk.

They looked out to the balcony as the day faded, then turned to face the demon within.

He leaned against the wall, fading as their darkness grew. He was beautiful, even now: his fair skin and clothes stained with dark blood, once-immaculate snowy locks tangled around ivory horns, silvered eyes hazy and unseeing.

Yet still he wore a smile.

It unnerved them. Someone dying shouldn't smile like that, shouldn't be sitting with such perfect posture. They'd driven a blade through his lungs and heart... and they realized with a sinking feeling that all the blood on him was too dark to be his own.

"You're not dying." They crossed the room with two long strides and knelt beside him, grasping his collar. "Why aren't you dying!?"

"Oh, darling. You might as well hope to kill the sun itself." Long fingers indicated his own chest, confident despite the weakness in his voice. "I am the light, Shadow. I am all that is bright in the world, and I will return to drive you away like sunrise chases away the night."

"Liar!" Their voice cracked. "You're as mortal as I am, anything can be killed."

"But not by you." His fingers caught in their long, dark hair, dragging their head down. Their lips met his, and, despite themself, they kissed him back.

"I'll be back, my shadow."

The mouth on theirs faded, dissolved into a thousand shimmering particles, and within moments the demon was no more. The light that had made up his body melted into the vanishing sunlight, and he was gone.

They stood slowly, shaken. If he wasn't dead, everything they'd fought for was at risk. They had to find him, end him.

They drifted through the celebration in a haze. Everyone wanted to speak to them, to thank them for doing what they did, for ending his regime. They didn't know what to say. They hadn't ended anything, they'd only given a brief respite. Would it even be enough?

As all celebrations will, it drew to a close, and the people drifted back to their homes, to go back to their everyday lives. Most people's lives hadn't changed too much, not yet.

The newly anointed hero gave one last look at the white stone palace and made a sharp jerking motion with their hand. With a great shudder, the delicate structure reshaped itself into a sturdy, simple building. This one was not white, but age-greyed, beautiful in its simplicity rather than a fairytale creation of spun sugar and mist. This one was real, and true, and lasting.

They turned and left the city. They had to figure out how to truly end him, but before that... They'd left home for a reason. Was home even still there?

People poked their heads out and waved as they passed. Unlit lanterns stood in windows still, a symbol of support for the rebellion. Some doors were splashed with black paint, others bore wreaths of brightly colored weeds, and still others sported brightly colored ribbons tied together with a black strand. Almost everyone wore some article of clothing in black or gray, white nowhere to be seen.

They reached the edge of the city and vanished.

Many miles from the city the air shimmered, and they stepped out at the edge of a small village. It still looked the same as it did seven years ago. Every house was in the same place, the same state, the people looked much the same as they moved about their daily lives.

They looked around the village, and their chest constricted. They took a breath and kept moving.

The door they knocked on was green. That was new. The paint had been blue and peeling last time they were here.

A woman opened the door, her nut-brown skin a match for their own. Her hair was pinned up, her hands floured. She studied them for a moment with sharp dark eyes.

"Phoebe," she said in greeting. "You're home."

They flinched. They'd forgotten that name, it had been so long. "Mother. I'm--"

"Come in." She took a step back, and they automatically followed her. "I can't believe you, leaving for years with no word! We thought you'd been eaten by a wolf, or that soldiers stole you away! A pretty young girl like you, you're in danger alone!" Bread and cheese and a bowl of stew were shoved into their hands. "Here, eat. You look half starved. I'm so glad you've come back, we needed you around here, especially the last few years." Her tone was reproachful, blaming. "Why did you run off, my love?"

They stared down at the stew.

"Sweetie?" Her tone wasn't harsh, wasn't sharp, but her voice... Her voice made their legs tense, their chest tight. They needed to get out before they broke down crying like a child. They couldn't stay here

but they couldn't leave.

The young hero who had fought off soldiers mounted on dragons and stood up to the emperor stood frozen in their mother's house.

"I- I can't." They set the bowl down. "I can't do this, I have to go."

"Wait, what?" Their mother hurried to the door, blocking their path. "Seven years without a word, you show up for one minute to show me you're alive, and now leave again?! I'm your mother, I bore you, I raised you and fed you for twenty-one years, and this is how you repay me?! Sweetheart, please don't do this to me! Can't you see I love you? I've missed you so much."

The tears finally fell, and they choked up, turning away. "M-Mother, I can't, please, I have to go."

"My daughter, light of my life..." She stepped closer.

They flinched away from her touch and stepped towards the door. Freedom was just on the other side, but their feet seemed heavier. They sniffled, rubbing their stinging nose.

She really did miss them. She'd always loved them, and they loved her.

"Mother?" they said softly.

"Yes, Phoebe?"

"How much do you know about the rebels?"

She frowned. "They're a group of violent terrorists trying to destroy the empire. Don't worry, sweetheart, our emperor will stamp them out."

Their breath caught, their hand on the knob. "I'm sorry, Mother. Goodbye." They flung the door open and dashed out.

"Phoebe!" Their mother's desperate wail pierced their heart and dragged at their feet.

Fists clenched at their sides, they spun to face her, tossing their hair back. They hadn't cut it in seven years. "My name is LILAH!"

Their mother stopped short.

"I'm not Phoebe!" Tears threatened, and they furiously swiped them away. "I'm not your light, and I'm not your perfect daughter! I'm sorry, but I haven't been for a long time. I'm Lilah, I'm the Shadow, the Nightbringer. And the Light Lord is dead!"

Her hands were clasped over her mouth. "Phoebe, please, I know you don't mean it."

"I do." Their voice caught in a sob, their arms folded tight over their chest. "I'm not your daughter anymore."

"Then what are you?" she whispered.

"I'm the Shadow that killed the Light."

Their mother stared at them, her gaze cold.

Lilah's shoulders shook as they backed away.

"Come find me when you can accept me as I truly am," they whispered. "Come find me when I'm more important to you than your daughter."

And they fled, inhumanly fast, the wind whipping away their sobs.