Work Text:
Deceit was dead.
The sky was painted bright orange as the birds travelled south, the leaves on the ground painting the world in shades of brown and red and yellow and Deceit was dead.
He'd found him under an old oak tree. The wind had blown some of the leaves around him on top of him making it look like he'd been lying there for days.
He'd found him and he'd screamed. Falling to his knees, sword falling into the leaf pile with a wet thud signalling that it was now muddy and needed to be cleaned later but that didn't matter because he was here on this muddy hill while the cold autumn wind chilled his skin and ruffled his hair and Deceit was dead.
A liquid as yellow as the leaves surrounding him dripped from fangs bared in an effort to look the part. The colour so bright it seemed to almost glowing where it was dripping from shiny white monstrous fangs and two deep holes in an arm with veins as black as the night would be if all-stars were to be smothered by the clouds that were gathering in the distance.
He'd found him before the sentence 'Deceit is dead' could be applied to their situation.
He'd found him just when he'd pierced his skin. Leaning against the old oak tree as if he was posing. The picture looking too serene. Too peaceful for him to realise what exactly was going on until Deceit slumped against the tree and it had all come crashing down.
He'd ripped the snake's head away from his arm after twenty seconds of poison shooting through the fangs and into the blood flow.
He'd taken five minutes to go fully under and ten more to stop breathing.
But nowhere he was. A brave man who had been too proud to admit his defeat in the courtroom. A proud man who had been too brave to hide his feelings from him any longer than necessary. A dead man.
A man he held in his arms a dozen times. Warming his ever freezing body and feeling his own heart melt a little when the hat came off and he had the privilege to kiss the crown of the snake's head like one would kiss a trophy they'd just obtained. Still careful like it would shatter if they pressed too hard. Still loving and sweet and soft and all things good.
But Deceit was dead.
And he didn't know what to do other than brush the red and yellow and brown off his body and lay his head on his lap. Other than stroking his hair and look out over the rolling hills sprinkled with trees that were shedding their leaves as if it was a race.
And he'd read the words the other had written for him before coming here. And he'd known that this would be how he'd find him.
But to see him do it. To watch him go and for there to be nothing he could do about it made something inside of him cracking. Something fragile yet unbreakable earned a crack deep within him and he knew that no amount of glue or sticky tape would fix it.
Because his hat had rolled away from him and was laying a bit further away.
Because he looked so vulnerable like this that the fangs looked cute instead of threatening.
Because his own venom was slowly turning all of his veins black and he watched it creep up his neck and infect his hands that were no longer hidden by the gloves because he'd taken them off and rolled up his sleeves to...
Because the wind blew leaves onto the both of them and the picture they painted looked almost as if it should be the poster for a sad movie; a tragic love story.
Because Deceit was dead.
And even with all the power, he possessed in this realm, even with his ability to bend reality to his will here and with the wind picking up and storm clouds rushing towards them turning the bright yellow into a muddy mustard colour and the red into brown and the brown into black, even with all of this power Roman couldn't undo harm a side had inflicted.
He couldn't take away the venom that was soaring through Deceit's blood. Infecting every part of his being and destroying his body up until the point that recovery is impossible.
He couldn't breathe life into the snake's lungs because the poison destroyed all functions.
He would not be able to accept that
Deceit was dead.
And while a freshly made Deceit woke up in an unfamiliar room, looking around curiously and wondering about what type of clothing would make the best impression on the other sides he was yet to meet, Roman sat on a stormy hill under an oak tree as the last bird left its nest to travel to the south, black clouds covered the stars above and the final leaf was tucked lose from its branch to float down gently, the wind blowing it far enough for it to land on a cold chest.
And Deceit was dead.