I GIVE YOU A NEW ONE SHOT!
[ONE YEAR]
This takes place one year after Evil and Amaranth finally admitted their feelings, and made love. Finally becoming what they are.
--
The fortress greeted the dawn without sound. Even the light itself seemed hesitant as it bled slowly across the jagged spires, as if unsure whether it would be permitted to remain.
From the highest balcony, Evil stood still, talon hands resting on the cold balustrade, his icy stare fixed on the slow, reluctant arrival of morning. Below him, the land he ruled stretched vast and obedient, a realm shaped by terror, conquest, and his will alone. Once, he had greeted such mornings with satisfaction. The world intact. The gears still turning. No weakness detected.
Now… there was a bed behind him.
A bed that had been a gift, crafted for his favorite creation.
The one who had become his undoing.
The one who, at this very hour, still slept.
He did not.
Never.
Lately, at this hour, he would be at her side. It had since very recently, became his ritual, his quiet reprieve. When their passion stilled, he'd pulled her close, arm locked possessively around her slight frame, her heat pressing into him. His talon fingers tracing reverently through her hair, luring her into warm, trusting slumber. While he lingered as her silent sentinel. A single indulgence, asking nothing in return but that he'd remain their, unmoving, and utterly hers.
But this morning, something had driven him from their chamber before she stirred. A restless pressure in his core. An awareness he could not unacknowledged.
One year...
A meaningless measurement in a realm where time warped and folded upon itself, as easily as one folding a piece of paper, in several different ways.
But The Time of legends did not dull the significance of that span. Still one full cycle since the moment he had fallen, and the weight of it pressed against him all the same.
One year since the moment he had finally succumb. When 'daughter' had became something far more dangerous. The woman he took into his arms and kept.
"Oh, how the mighty fall,” he murmured, voice low, threaded with something almost resembling amusement.
The irony would not be lost on the Supreme Being, should He be watching from above. That the personification of Evil itself would not be undone divine decree, but ensnared by the laughter of a woman he himself had forged.
He had created her. Every inch of her had once been his design. Her form, her power, her purpose. A tool. A contingency. A reflection of himself refined into something more precise, more adaptable.
He had named her Amaranth when he began to understand she was no longer simply an extension of his will. He could have shaped her mind more tightly, carved obedience into her soul until free will wasn't an option. He had chosen not to. He believed it unnecessary.
And doing so, she had become something he hadn't plan.
Something he could not controlled.
Something he could not stop.
He had let her become herself.
And she had become… perfect.
Wickedly perfected, sharpened by her own choices, not his leash.
A weakness.
A paradox.
A slow, insidious infection he had welcomed into his core.
His gaze darkened. Once, he had been unstoppable.
Now?
Now, there existed something in all of creation he feared losing.
“…Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, though the word held no real conviction.
...Suddenly,
her arms slid around his waist. Soft feminine warmth, Interrupting his thoughts.
He felt her nuzzling her whole-self, against his back. Her presence spread through him.
The infection, he had long ago stopped fighting.
“Daddy Dearest,” she murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep, pouting just enough to be indulgent. “You left. I woke cold.” There it was. That tone. Affectionate. Possessive. Utterly unafraid.
He allowed himself a low, amused hum before answering. “Forgive me, My Precious Flower,” he said softly, warmth threading through the darkness of his tone. “..... I did not stray too far… only far enough to miss you.”
She hummed, satisfied, pressing closer.
Only then did he turn, slowly. Savoring the moment rather than reacting to it. His talon hands rose, careful, always careful, cupping her face, with hands that could rend individuals apart.
He studied her. Not with the cold detachment of a creator inspecting his work…
…But with unbridled love. “…Look at you,” he murmured softly. Her crimson eyes met his, heavy-lidded, adoring. His thumb brushed lightly along her cheek, a gesture so gentle it bordered on reverent.
“I set out to create a tool,” he said quietly, his voice threading into something deeper. “A safeguard. A reflection of myself.”
His gaze softened. “And in learning to love…” he exhaled faintly, something almost like a laugh ghosting beneath the words, “…I have crafted my own undoing..." She didn’t question. She simply leaned into his touch, nuzzling deeper into his embrace. As though his confession were nothing more than another form of affection. Of course she would. To her, it was.
"Once," he went on. " I was unstoppable. Now I find myself imagining futures where you are not at my side, and I despise them.”
She turned her head slightly, pressing a kiss into one of his palms, that still cradled her face. “You won’t lose me,” she murmured, voice warm, certain, unshaken by doubt or fear.
“Never.”
Then, she pressed her body forward, into his chest. Basking in his presence, in his touch, in the illusion of safety he had so carefully built around her.
His eyes lingered on her.
There it was.
That innocence.
Not ignorance, no, She was not naive. She knew how the world worked. She committed atrocities with gleeful cruelty at his side. She was wicked, clever, merciless. his angel of darkness, reveling in their shared dominion.
But here, in his arms, she existed in a state of oblivious bliss.
Cherished. Spoiled. Shielded. As she should be. As he wanted her to be.
He had enabled her, indulged her dependency, wrapped her world carefully around himself.
As she melted into him, he pulled in closer, dipping his head, pressing a kiss to her brow, gentle, deliberate.
You should know better, he thought. Because he knew.
He knew exactly what could be taken from him. The Supreme Being would not need armies. Would not need war.
Only her.
Only the knowledge of what she meant to him.
Because, someday, soon...He would need her to be what she was first created to be.
To send her beyond his reach, into dangers even he could not immediately undo.
His hold on her tightened, as he closed his eyes in thought, with fear, with love he had never intended to learn. That thought gnawed at him more viciously than any holy threat ever had.
“My Precious flower…” he murmured against her brow, softer now.
As he uttered those words, she let out a deep sigh into his chest, burying her face even deeper.
And as the dawn crept higher over a world that feared their rule, Evil stood there, holding the one thing he could not destroy, knowing with absolute certainty…
That someday, something else might try.
@Manny @Pete
