Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Idrilla was his everything

His meaning in life - his purpose to live

Without Idrilla, what was he?

THEY defined and shaped his life. From the very start — from the moment the burning fire and battle scored his home, burning and demolishing the place he loved, his place of peace and safety.

From the moment he laid his eyes upon that ocarina, it’s sweet and soothing melody engraved forever into his mind, it’s soft song lulling his mind into ease, protecting him from the pain and wrath of reality.

He would devote his life, strength, love, and purpose to the path of a follower of Idrilla, a Knight of Beauty. He didn’t care what others thought of him, for he knew his truth —- he knew his own desires and beliefs. He would revel in the grace of the Aeon of Beauty, basking in THEIR beautiful, loving, and gentle grace. He gave up everything for THEM, but he didn’t care, he didn’t look back.

His life went on though, his once soft stark-white hair deepened to a dark rose-red from the blood of his friends and foes alike, traveling planets near and far, helping people in the name of his devotion — and only when he once again saw an ocarina —- this time gifted to him from a soul filled with love and gratitude. The moment it was placed in his hand, the moment his eyes connected with the gentle instrument he once again knew true beauty. In his eyes, beauty was not just materialistic, nor was it purely external. Beauty was simply a way of life. The way of finding beauty in everything there was. Nothing was truly without beauty, and though he himself were void of that beauty and gentleness — he upheld and admired the grace it held.

From the twinkling glow of stars in a barren, obsidian night sky, to a mother bird teaching her young to spread their wings and glide the wind of life — the soft crunch of autumn leaves under a boot, following the circle of life —- even the more distasteful things he would find beauty in. Two soldiers locked in battle, past the bloodshed and unforgiving anger, lay pure passion and determination to win, to fight and protect their own loved ones —- fighting tooth and skin to bring home the good news to whoever they may have, whoever they love. Even a mother — fighting and risking her life to feed and protect her young. Past the harsh and cruel reality, there was a mother full of love and determination, giving up so much, and fighting so hard to feed and protect her young. That was what beauty truly was

To him, that was what Beauty was. The simplicity of everything in life — every struggle and hardship, every joyous moment — Everything held beauty, from whatever form it may be, the greatness of Idrilla lay in every corner, every inch, every space taken up in the world was touched by THEIR gracing fingertips.

Everything but himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He sat in the cockpit of The One and Only, slowly and deliberately polishing his armor and lance in the dim light that the ship provided. His life was quite lonely, as he no longer had companions to journey alongside him, spreading the word of beauty and looking for Idrilla. It didn’t bother him much, though sometimes the claws of solitude wrapped around his heart and pained him.

It was a rewarding life — despite the loneliness. He often met people that were blessed by beauty, kindness and grace. He liked to help people too, for it was his duty as THEIR loyal knight. Some people may call him reckless for what he does, or in some sense.. what he doesn’t do, but if you ask him he wouldn’t care much. He would sacrifice anything for the beauty, after all it was his life, his desire, and his path. He was lucky to even be granted the position of a knight of Beauty. He didn’t hold the same beauty as the other knights — not even as the travelers he often comes across. He came from a planet of anger and hatred, void of the beauty he so followed. That tainted him, dragging him down to the depths of that pain he tried so hard to save others from.

Despite his impurities he devoted his life to THEM, and helping others wherever he went. Along his travels he met many people, many friends and companions. For one, his late master. He had been a wonderful person, taking him under his wings — teaching him the ways of beauty and how to live and defend himself. He has always cared deeply about him, and would always be grateful to the knowledge that he bestowed upon him.

He sat there, the motions of routine cleaning habits, listening to the dull hum of the ship and its inner workings. He closed his eyes, his mind drifting to those that he had met along his journey, his mind lingered on one — his old companion. His cleaning motions stopped momentarily as he thought of his old friend before continuing. They had gone on countless adventures together, spreading the word of beauty, and protecting those who needed it. They had been very close, and he often missed his presence.

His absent mindedness led to him pricking his finger at the tip of the spearhead, a single red drop of blood dripping slowly down the sharp metal. He stared at the drop, mesmerized by the deep color of it, the faint red trail it left behind.

His mind flashed, suddenly reminded of the horrors that had plagued his companion. Anger, betrayal, and loss of faith had gripped his companions heart, turning him to nothing but a monster, something not worthy of following the path of beauty. After the horrors his friend had done, Argenti knew he couldn’t let him taint THEIR light anymore, even if he had wanted to keep following that path.

So he stopped him, as much as it hurt him to do — he had to. To protect and preserve his Aeon, his purpose of living. He still remembers the blood. It was everywhere, all over the floor, seeping into the ground, splattered on the fresh bushes and grass.

It covered his friend, head to toe, eyes wide and full of terror — his body mangled and torn, bloody from the wounds of Argenti’s lance. He remembers the bloody lance, scarlet drops falling from the spearhead, remembered the sticky feeling of blood on his hands, on his body — the guilt, shame, and anger he felt. He still recalled the overwhelming smell of iron, filling his nostrils with the horrid stench — making him feel light headed and nauseous.

He still remembered the way his lance stabbed deep into his body. The sickening crunch of his armor breaking, the spearhead breaking his skin and sinking into the unprotected flesh. The way the blood poured out of the wounds, pooling the area below — seeping into every crack and nook.

It forever tainted Argenti. He was a killer.

He killed his best friend. Someone who had trusted him.. and he had shown no mercy, ripping their body and soul apart — forcing his unforgiving blade into the unwelcoming body. He would Forever have his blood on his hands; no matter how many times he scrubbed and washed his hands that blood would never leave them.

Funny how he was looked upon as someone to be respected, someone to be admired and looked up too. He knew the truth was far from that, far from the beautiful fantasies everyone thought of him.

He was supposed to be an elegant rose, and everyone knows the beauty that roses hold. What they overlook though, is the pain that roses cause.

No rose is without thorns. They dig deep into the holder, piercing their skin and causing bloodshed and pain. Of course — no one ever thinks a thorn could ever cause too much damage, that is, until it is too late. Consequently, to avoid this pain, people cut the thorns off roses, simply to save themselves the trouble of any future nicks.

What if you can’t see the thorn though?

Argenti is a thorn.

Disguised as a beautiful de-throned rose. Alas, he is the very thing people cut off a rose to avoid the same pain he causes. Funny how that is, that in the end he causes the pain that people purposefully chose him to avoid.

He will always be nothing but a thorn, never holding the beauty of a rose, yet wielding the pain that the roses natural defense give.

He stood up sharply, letting the lance fall to the ground with a loud clang. He felt absolutely disgusting. He strode to the bathroom, running a burning hot shower, and stepped inside. He just stood there, letting the water burn his skin and run down his body. He wished it could burn away all his sins, take away all his evils and misdoings. He took a cloth, scrubbing his body over and over, his skin becoming red and angry and his relentless scrubbing attacked it. He washed his hair, scrubbing, pulling — as if trying to release the blood from his once pure hair. It was hopeless.

He pulled, tugged, ripped his hair, trying to get the red out as if it were hurting him. Burning and scalding his scalp, the weight in which his sins lay. But, to no surprise, it stayed the same. The same bold red — practically shouting out loud his sins. It was a shame, no matter how hard he tried, no matter his efforts, it would always stay there and haunt him. He could never escape.

Shame and anger filled him — how could he even call himself a knight of beauty? He was a sinner, no better than the monster his companion had turned into — a traitor just as his master had turned from the path of Idrilla. He slammed his fist into the wall, anger coursing through his veins, though, immediately replaced with regret as a delicate bottle containing bath oils fell to the ground, shattering its content onto the ground.

He stared at it, the bronze and gold shimmer mixing with the water as it flowed around the shattered glass. It was beautiful, the colors fluttering as the light shone upon them. He kneeled down, pressing his hand into the mix of oil and shattering glass — suppressing a gasp of pain as the shards cut his hand. He paused — pulling his hand back and looking at it. The pretty colors mix with his fresh blood, creating a beautiful array of iridescent shades.

He looked back down at his wrists, eyes glazing over the old marks and scars scattered messily over them. They were old. Mostly.

Stupid moments of anger, self hatred, fear, and stress. Overwhelmingly so that he couldn’t even focus on anything else but the feelings.

So he did what anyone would do.

He lashed out at himself, freeing himself from the mind consuming anguish. It was beautiful in a sense, the way the lines were set in messy arrays of lines, painting a picture of pure emotion.

It was a mess of anger and passion, maybe not the good kind — but it was, nonetheless. Passion lashing out at oneself.

Funnily enough, despite the reasons for these actions — he quite enjoyed the sharp stinging feeling, the pain it brought to him. It was relaxing, a way for him to release his anger on himself.

Maybe he knew it was only an ounce of the pain that he had caused for others, the pain that he may never be able to repay. It was progress though, although he felt guilty for finding some peace in something that was so morbid, something that he was doing to punish himself for the horrors that he had done.

He still remembered the way the red blood dripped from each march, tracing down the soft flesh.. the flesh that would forever retain these marks, forever changed and altered — it would be obvious to anyone what had happened.

He couldn’t help the way he reached out, digging the pieces of glass in deeper, dragging them around, that familiar red returning to him. The sweet sharp pain coming back to him, focusing on only the pain in his wrists. The glass sharps stuck into his skin, staying deep in place as he let go.

He couldn’t take this anymore.

He stood up, washing his hand and wrist, gently pulling the glass out and turning off the shower. He would clean the mess up later — he simply had no motivation currently. He stepped out, wrapping a soft red towel around his waist as his phone dinged. He glanced over towards it, who would be contacting him at this time…? He picked it up, smiling as he read the contact name — Boothill. His loving partner.

It had been a wonder how he and Boothill had fallen for each other. If Argenti was being honest, he disliked him quite a bit when they first met — finding him as a loud mouthed, brash, and angry person. Soon enough though, he had gotten to know him — and the sweet and loving cowboy he hid underneath his shining armor. He adored him, besides Idrilla, he was the most beautiful thing Argenti had ever laid his eyes on.

He loved his company, soft nights of chatting, adventures, or even just holding each other as they rested — completely comfortable with one another. He didn’t care how they had met, for all he knew was that Boothill was his muse, his love, his second half. He would have done anything for Boothill — almost — anything.

Although he loved Boothill more than himself, more than the ship he rode, or the spear he wields — he could not shake the feeling of pure guilt and anguish. Idrilla surely had sent Boothill to him, sent him to test his will. To see if he could truly abstain from mortal desires. THEY had most definitely sent Boothill, for he was beyond mortal beauty — a treasure that nothing else in this vast universe could ever compare too. He was so much more than Argenti would ever be, so much more than Argenti could ever accomplish.. how could someone like him ever love someone so low as him?

Idrilla had sent the one thing that Argenti would resist to come into his life — to test his devotion and love for THEM. Oh.. and how he was failing. No matter how many times guilt and shame engulfed Argenti’s entire being… he could never ever stay away from him. He was failing his goddess so pathetically — and how shamed he felt. He wasn’t even worthy of THEIR blessing and love in the first place, and now he was only failing THEM so miserably.

He shook his head, looking back down at their messages

~~~

Boothill 🌹❤️

Boothill:
Genti’, guess what?? Yer never gonna believe
the shirt I just pulled off
           [voice message converted to text]

Argenti:
hm? What? Tell me!

Boothill:
well… I jus’ finished a heck of a big bounty! It was worth a forkin fortune!!
           [voice message converted to text]

Argenti:
oh, that’s great dear! How did it go?

Boothill:
er… well … there were a couple muddle fudgers that got a few hits.. but nothin’ bad!!
        [voice message converted to text]

Argenti:
oh.. well I’m glad! Why don’t you come to the one and only? It’s been quite a bit since we’ve enjoyed each others company!

Boothill:
Don’t gotta ask me twice! Send over the coordinates and I’ll be there before ya can say bullet
        [voice message converted to text]

Argenti: (coordinate location)
Argenti: [heart Pom-pom]

~~~

He sighed, turning his phone off and sitting down. He stared at the blank phone in his hand for a few minutes, turning it over and running his fingers over the image of Idrilla on the case. THEY were beautiful in every way, truly befitting of the title ‘Aeon of beauty’. He knew many people in the cosmos believed THEM to be dead; but his faith would not waver.. till his last breath he would search the never ending cosmos for that true beauty.

Ah.. how THEY directed his life. He had no regrets in his choice of path, though. Beauty had helped him In ways nothing else could. Being a knight gave him meaning, a job to fulfill in his life. From the first fateful night he first laid his eyes upon that ocarina — to years of training with his fellow knights, laughing, sparring, and celebrating with drinks as cheery laughs and bellows filled the air long into the night.

He missed those sweet times more than anything. To be fully accepted for what he was, how he felt, what he believed in. He never had to hide who he was, or what he thought. He could simply be Argenti. He didn’t have to be that loving chivalrous knight that everyone knew and loved. Of course — he didn’t hate who he was, but his feelings were duller in that persona, more muffled… akin to trying to hear underwater.

He set his phone down on a nearby table, sinking down into a couch as his gaze turned to outside his ship. Ah.. the endless void that was the cosmos. It was truly a beautiful thing. Not only were the thousands of glittering stars, planets, milky ways, and hundreds of colors swirling around — but the simple beauty of space held wind mind blowing.

So many planets, so many that you could never even count a single percentage of them. The universe held so much life, so many happy family’s and beautiful creatures, billions of growing creatures and life forms. Somehow, everything co-existed — leaving a universe that fell into perfect harmony.

Of course, there would always be evil, deranged, and utterly disgusting people that held no beauty. They would destroy Idrillas beauty domain, tainting THEIR work for their own gain. These were the beings he sought to destroy — to eradicate from this world. To end their existence to ultimately stop this universe's suffering.

Beings like these showed no mercy for Idrillas' hardly crafted beauty. Taking, destroying, and leaving disaster in their wake. These things were disgusting.. and no matter what they were.. who they were.. he would destroy them. He was THEIR loyal knight, and he’d fight for THEIR grace forever.

He blinked again, focusing on the glimmering stars dotting the dark and bleak outside. He wondered when his love would arrive.. he had given him an auto-pass to his ship, so he could just come in when he arrived. It had been a while since he had gotten rest… it wouldn’t do any harm to just… drift off would it?

~
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Dark. It was dark everywhere. Argenti stared out into the abyss, desperately looking for anyone.. anything. He throws out his hand, trying to get a hold on something. He can’t see, so the best course of action would be to steady himself.

He manages to grab something… it’s rather soft. It doesn’t feel completely solid, but it’s the best he’s got. He blinks his eyes, narrowing them as he tries to make out anything. There’s nothing… he cannot even 2 feet ahead of him, it’s almost like his eyes are still shut — he even moves his hand to them to check — blinking at the slight sting of his fingers on his eye.

Right.. definitely open.

He groans. His head is killing him right now. It feels like there’s some bug buzzing obnoxiously inside. He clenches his fists — he would make no progress .. in anything if he couldn’t find his way out. He simply couldn’t just stand here and -…. What..? What was …

There’s a light!

He hurriedly made his way towards the light, it almost felt as if the light were tugging at him, not only at his physical body, but his mind too. Luring him in as the invisible vines drew his body closer towards the blinding shine.

It.. seemed to be getting louder, there was buzzing. Awful, loud, disgusting, obnoxious buzzing. It was everywhere — behind him, above him, on all sides, inside his head. He broke into a run, dashing for the exit, trying so hard to escape before the buzzing drove him Insane.

He was so close…

Almost…

There!

Everything went white.
.

..

….

Ugh…

His head hurt like hell.

He groggily drew open his eyes, taking in his surroundings. It was red. The sky was a dark red, shrouded in deep shadows.. It looked like there was .. red dust floating everywhere . It was so very uncanny — almost like he had been there before.. but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

How strange..

There were vines everything, and by the looks of it — they were rose vines. Their thorns were abnormally long and dark — he would have to be careful not to touch those.. he wouldn’t take chances. The vines were quite small where he was, but he could see them drawing towards the distance; growing in thickness and abundance.

He could quite put his finger on it, but these vines were important, so very important.. he couldn’t explain how or why, but he must follow them.. he must find out the truth. Maybe it was the weird dust in the air, the environment he was in?

Alas, he had made up his mind, it would be to follow the vines! He would figure out just what was so alluring about them. Maybe it was the way they stretched off onto the distance, holding mystery to them. Maybe it was the fact that they were rose vines — roses were often held by THEM.

He stood, gripping his lance tightly, using it to push up off the ground, brushing himself off as he took after the vines, his footsteps muffled by the soft ground. It was quite easy starting off, but as they thicker and grew in masses, he found himself stumbling and struggling to keep his footing. Not only did they grow thicker and longer, but the thorns grew in size. The thicker the vines got, the more suffocating the air around him. They no longer held the beauty he saw.

They were grotesque, crawling with bugs and seeping with thick sap.

How…. disturbing..

Closer, closer, closer, closer

Agh… his head hurt horribly. It was ringing worse, the closer it got to whatever was at the ends of the vines, the worse it got. The ringing was relentless.

Now there was a buzzing. A horrible, intrusive buzzing.

“Come find me, my dear knight.”

That soft, eloquent voice, calling gently out to him. Encouraging, urging him to follow.

It was so… beautiful.

..

What..?

No.

It couldn’t be..

His eyes were wide, motionless as his breath hitched. Could it truly be Idrilla? Had he finally succeeded in his goal? Had he found THEM.. would he finally bring beauty back to the universe?

He had to find them. Now.

He took off running, ignoring the thorns as the tugged at his clothes, the voice in his head getting louder and more intense-

Wait..

Clothes?

Where was his armor?

He looked down, he was stripped of his armor, only wearing a thin black bodysuit. That.. wasn’t how he remembered this?

Whatever.

He had no time to think about this, he had to find THEM. THEY needed him — were counting on him, he would not let them down, he would find them. He would complete his duties as a knight. He had to go through this tunnel of thorns.

And so he did, cutting down vine after vine, his lance striking and slicing through each one with ease. To his disappointment though, the vines grew thicker and tougher. It was harder to break through each second that passed.

“Break forth, Knight of Beauty. I will lend you my strength. Bring my glory to those of the cosmos, my dear.”

Hah! Of course!

Idrilla would lend him THEIR power, then he would be able to reach her faster. He felt himself getting stronger, his arms no longer felt weary and pained, his strength was rejuvenated. Now, with ease he sliced quickly through each vine, although they kept increasing in number and thickness, the ringing in his head had started to ease — surely he must be reaching his destination soon.

So many vines…

So many thorns.

The thorns are so abundant and big now that they are cutting and nicking him at every angle, small beads of blood dripping from the cuts. Nevertheless, he cannot stop — he has almost found THEM. He is almost there, he WILL make it.. he-

He stumbles forward, losing his balance after a particularly intense swing of his lance breaks through the last remaining vines, and tumbles to the ground.

His head is quiet. More quiet than it should be. There is no voice there, there is no ringing…. That must mean- he looked up quickly, eyes looking wildly around for anything .. anything to lead him to his beloved goddess.

He seems to be in a large grove; roses, bushes, vines, and tall grass growing profusely everywhere. He stood up, admiring the way everything grew in harmony. It was weird though.. the sky was still red, dusty dark clouds in the air. If this grove was truly inhabited by Idrilla then he should not question a single thing here.

He glanced around, finally spotting a few crumpled rose petals. He shot up, taking off after them — following them closely. Each soft petal lining its trail, creases forced into the now bent shapes. They reached far into the distance, and it seemed like forever as Argenti followed them, but as expected, the petals increased, forming a thick trail of broken petals.

He then saw a bright light coming from the distance, and without a doubt, the petals were all leading towards the spot. He gasped — almost in disbelief, he had finally found THEM. He had accomplished his lifelong goal, maybe finally his sins would be forgiven and Idrilla would welcome him back as pure.

His heart beat insanely fast, almost as if his heart were about to leap out of his own chest. His legs felt like jelly, so weak they were barely able to carry his weight towards the light. He felt his breathing quicken, feeling labored breaths and his chest heaving. His mind was racing — unsure of what he would see when he reached THEM. Surely THEY would be all he had ever imagined? The kind, loving, and gracing Aeon he had worshiped.

Wait.

Why was there a form standing near Idrilla?

Correction. Standing over THEM.

What in Idrillas name did they think they were doing? How dare they come near THEIR holy presence?

He felt anger and hatred boiling up in his throat, he couldn’t stand anyone standing close to the goddess he worked so hard to find. He would not let anyone take this credit. He had found THEM. He had been the one to fulfill his goal; to succeed in his lifelong goal.

No, no, no

This was not him.

He was not a hateful person, he would be thankful to this person for helping him. He did not hate them. He would voice his appreciation to them for finding his Aeon. He did not hate them. He wouldn’t draw his lance to attack the one who found THEM before he. HE DID NOT HATE THEM.

His hands were shaking as he stepped forward, clearing his voice to speak to the figure, fingers twitching as they fought to not grasp the lance he wielded. He narrowed his eyes, trying to discern who this could be.

Finally-

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

OH.

OH.

The buzzing had returned

There stood his beloved Boothill. Standing over the crumpled and broken body of Idrilla. Her glowing light now broken and dull, her limbs bent in every wrong way, blood pooling around her body as the same red liquid dripped from his hands.

How..

No.. oh please no. Tell him it wasn’t true

How.. why… how could he do this to him..??

“..Boothill..?” Was that really his voice? It sounded so broken.

He took a step forward, reaching out a hand as if to grab Boothill — to understand why he would do this.. why he would destroy the very thing that held Argenti’s life together.

-SNAP-

Argenti’s entire body shivered with discomfort as boothills head snapped backwards to face him. His neck twisting as his features contorted. His eyes a solid obsidian black, larger than normal jagged sharp teeth, thorn like claws on his hands, and hundreds of breaks and cracks in his metal body — filled with blood soaked roses. His gun lay next to win, covered in blood and crumpled — as if someone had crushed it like a can.

He started at

“Oh? Is that you, Argenti” his voice came out too deep, too formal, too.. demonic. “Is that you, my knight?”

Another sickening crunch made Argenti’s stomach hurl as the rest of Boothill’s body turned back around to face him, the bones contorting — sticking out at wrong angles.

Wait-

Bones?

No…- Boothill didn’t have bones-

No.

His train of thought was cut off with the mind numbing screech of buzzing in his head, forcing him to his knees, clutching his head — fingers tugging at his red hair. What the fuck was happening? This couldn’t be his love, right? He would never do this..

His eyes focused on the ground, it was surprisingly soft, despite having small pieces of rocks and other debris. Wait- that wasn’t rocks.. it wasn’t soft. It was covered; completely soaked in blood. The ‘rocks’ were small pieces of bones scattered among the dirt, embedding itself into the red soaked dirt.

He shot to his feet, nearly vomiting — the strong iron stench reaching his nostrils. Every step he took back, bones would crunch disgustingly beneath his once pristine metal boots. His legs were now coated in blood from who knows what — the realization making him sick

“Oh? Dear knight, are you getting queasy from a little bit of blood?” The same mocking voice rang out again, coming from the face of his beloved. “You’d think that after everything you’ve done, everything you’ve seen.. you’d be more acquainted with blood, no?” those cruel black eyes widened, lips curling into an unsettlingly wide sneer.

“Just like your poor , poor home. You never were strong enough to save your family. Your poor parents, were you?”

He saw red,

He froze, his breath stilled as he heard those haunting words. Those memories flooding back to him, the flames, the roars of bombs detonating, guns firing relentlessly — the hundreds of broken and bloody bodies scattering the floor. He remembered the deep seated hunger and feeling of blood and ashes on his body.

Ice clawed at his heart, digging deeper than his lance could pierce. He felt his body shake, horrible memories flooding back into his mind, haunting him once again. Reminding him of his old sins, the people he wasn’t strong enough to save, the ones who would never get a second chance; never see the light of day, never laugh.

His mouth felt horribly dry — he could barely make any sounds. He looked up to see Boothill sauntering up to him, leaving a trail of blood behind him — his once kind face now nothing but a grin of malice. His hand flew up to roughly grab Argenti’s face, jerking it roughly up to look at him.

He let out a strained noise, the sharp thorny claws dragging up his neck, digging into his cheeks — small beads of blood welling up where his soft skin met those cursed spikes. A single hand went to grab at the wrist, trying to pull it away — caught in a battle of anguish, anger, hatred, and sorrow.

“But of course, you should know the feeling of being one to cause blood..” his sickeningly sweet voice rang in his ears “after all, you’re the monster who killed your poor friend”

That did it.

With a grunt of anger, he broke free of Boothills grip, summoning his lance as he held it in front of him, his .. armor somehow on him again.

He would think about that later.

His anger boiled up, threatening to spill as he started with nothing but hatred towards the man in front of him. How DARE he bring that up? He wasn’t a bad person. He wasn’t. He had Idrillas blessing! He did. HE WAS NOT A SINNER. HE WASN'T.

How dare this .. disgusting beast of a creature talk to him like that? He knew nothing of Argenti! He was only doing it to protect his friend and Idrilla. To keep everyone safe, make sure he couldn’t ever hurt anyone again. His friend would never have wanted to hurt any precious soul! He would be glad that Argenti had stopped him before he could.. he would be grateful.

So why..

Why did he feel so guilty?

Why did he feel like the guilt of his death was shackled to his ankles, every step dragging him down to the depths of hell, ready to make him atone for his disgusting sins. Why did it feel like he was nothing but a murderer hidden under a masquerade of lies? A jester in a story full of saints.. he would never fit in. He would always be the one to fall apart, to make the mistake… — to ruin everyone near him.

“Oh. Dear Argenti.. you know it is true, don’t you?” His harsh voice knocked him from His thoughts — his clawed hand reaching towards him.

“No.. shut your filthy mouth.. you.. you beast!” He said, voice now dripping with venom as he met Boothill’s obsidian eyes.

He pointed the tip at him, challenging him to come closer. He took a step forward, leveling his breath as he spoke,

“Fight me beast. You will fall, for Idrilla is never truly dead”

No reply.

Suddenly Boothill cackled; a horrible, staticky, painful noise. He took a step back, raising his hands in mock defeat.

“How cute.” He grins “a fight is what you want? Well, then a fight is what you’ll get.” He laughed, his voice contorting more on the last few words. His eyes seemed to glow, fangs growing more prominent as he stood up to his full height, towering over Argenti. A pair of bug-like Antennae sprout from his head, while spindly yet spike-covered bug legs sprout from the larger cracks in his metal body.

Under his piercing gaze Argenti could not help but stumble back slightly in fear, but he refused to give up — not after failing everyone else he loved. If he had truly attacked Idrilla, then he would make sure this hideous beast would be eradicated, torn from this world. After all, that is what he promised to do as a loyal knight.

“Then let the battle commence.” Were his only words before lunging forward, lance aimed at his torso, trying to rip open one of the cracks.

Boothill leaped back, he had his gun back in his hand, firing relentlessly at Argenti. Argenti alternated between deflecting and dodging bullets with surprising grace, still advancing with increasing speed.

Argenti then summoned a few vines up, tangling them in his legs and causing him to stumble — grinning as the thorns tore at his face, paper cut thin lines fading onto his cheeks and forehead.

“Really? Thought you’d have better balance with all those legs.” He taunted him, moving to make a move on the unbalanced Boothill. “And here you are, with all the big talk… too much for you to handle?” His voice was low, thrusting his lance forward at the other's face.

He hissed, barely dodging it, eyes shooting daggers at the knight. “I wouldn’t be so damn cocky.” He twisted his body, using his spindly legs to trip Argenti; knocking him to the ground as he snickered, raising a leg to pierce him in his gut.

Argenti let out a gasp, losing his breath from the fall and losing his grip on his lance, eyes widening as he stared up at those demonic eyes staring back at him. He felt his blood freeze for a moment — time seeming to move in slow motion, though quickly, he was able to get his senses back, and with years of knight training he was able to quickly recover, rolling out of the way — sweeping his spear to slice off a piece of his leg, watching as the still moving piece fell to the ground, squirming and bloody.

Boothill howled in anger “YOU’LL FUCKING PAY FOR THAT.” He lunged at Argenti relentlessly, teeth snapping and claws swiping non stop. Argenti was starting to lose his balance as he was forced back constantly to avoid the dangerous attacks.

the constant barrage of attacks didn’t end, only stopping when Argenti tripped on a bloodied bone sticking out of the sodden dirt. He jerked his head back quickly, wincing as pain snapped in his neck — narrowly avoiding a claw to the face.

He quickly summoned some vines to grow behind him, catching him safely before he hit the ground. He then took his lance, winding up, and with the motion he was already moving at — threw his spear as hard as he could at his attacker.

Boothill hissed in pain, the spear piercing his metal torso with a sickening crunch, watching the red blood pool around the wound, dripping down the weapon and down his body, only soaking the ground more. He grasped the offending weapon, pulling it out of his body and tossing it to the side as he felt his body cracking more. Bloodied roses spilled out of his body, petals crushed and torn — mixed with pieces of metal, flesh, and wires falling onto the ground in grotesque layers.

There was nothing but pure, unbridled hatred in Boothills eyes as he stared at the winded knight. He crawled forward, blood and roses still cascading down from his body, an unnatural amount for the size of his body.

“You absolute scum. You are nothing but a bottom feeder who brings nothing but death and destruction to everyone.. you will pay.” He rushed forward, teeth bared and eyes narrowed. He grabbed Argenti by the throat, ripping through the vines. He squeezed, watching in sadistic pleasure as blood streamed out of the punctures his claws made and his eyes seemed to pop out of his head from pressure.

He tossed him against a nearby stone wall — as though he were nothing but a ragdoll a small child would play with. Argenti let out a cry as his head crashed into the wall with a sickening crack, and collapsed to the ground in a pile of broken limbs.

Argenti laid there, pain scored his body as if a scorching desert of pain was raging through his body. He felt the sticky warm feeling of blood as it pooled everywhere. He felt the burning sharp pain of broken limbs aching everywhere. Is this what it felt like when he killed those people all that time ago? Did he truly deserve this fate?

Boothill strode forward slowly, staring down at Argenti as if he were nothing more than a disobedient dog who had disobeyed his master. Nothing more than an animal to be punished.

“Oh how far you have come from that overly confident knight have we darling?” Boothills grin widened, only revealing the jagged fangs even more. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as a few thorned vines wrapped around his torso, pulling him down.

His response was nothing short of intimidating — slicing through the vines in mere seconds, leg stabbing Argenti through a gap in his armor, earning a pained cry.

“That was a pathetic attack. Did you really think you would succeed? You are nothing but a failure, for that is what you’ll always be.” He retracted his leg from his body, shaking it in disgust and once again stood closer “while this.. exchange had been fun.. I believe it’s time to end this.” He nearly purred, before raising two sharpened legs, slamming them into Argentis chest, cracking not only the armor, but the ribs and bones under it. The cracking noise was nothing short of horrific, blood going everywhere and Argenti’s pained cries.

It looked horrific too. Blood splattered everywhere, coating the space around them, droplets decorating his face, armor, and dripping off of Boothill’s legs. The only thing that didn’t look tainted was his hair, for the red of the blood intermingled with his striking red locks.

Pain coursed throughout Argenti’s body, leaving nothing but pain and agony in his mind. He couldn’t think — couldn’t comprehend the situation, or the fact that he was dying, two sharp — knife like — legs stabbed through his chest. The only thoughts were the fiery, gut wrenching pain racking his poor body.

He was drowning, burning, being stabbed, crushed, beaten — all at once. His mind a whirlwind of pain, an oven of tears. He couldn’t move his body, even if he wanted to. He couldn’t even writhe his body in pain, he could only gasp in place and take it.

Tears fell down Argentis face, pain consuming him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breath, couldn’t think. His breath was shallowing, his wounds making it impossible to do anything. He was quiet, looking up at Boothill before finally whispering

“Goodbye. I will make sure you pay… I will not let sinners win..”

As he took his final breath — the last thing he saw was Boothill rushing towards his face, thorny claws outreached, shaking him violently.

—

——-

————-

——————

“Ar….ti…..gen….- Argenti??”

He jerked up, gasping for breath as his heart hammered in his chest. What the fuck was that? What.. What happened?

He was in his ship.. and then he drifted off and that happened. Why did it seem so real, why was he so pained by it? It wasn’t as if it were real.. right??

No. No it wasn’t.

Boothill was still here, standing above him looking extremely worried, eyebrows furrowed together as he shook him awake.

Boothill wasn’t that horrid creature, he was his loving partner.

Boothill would never hurt him like that.

“What…? What happened where am I-“

His eyes met Boothills, his lover's gaze was confused and concerned, staring back at him, unsure of what to say.

“I er-.. got ya these..”

He said in almost a reserved manner, arms shifting to move something towards him. Argenti looked down at the movement, heart warming as he saw the beautiful bouquet of delicate roses Boothill held out for him.

They were beautiful. A mixture of deep reds, with full bloomed petals. They seemed to glow in the dim light of the ship, bringing out a warm light. The thorns had been carefully snipped off, courtesy of Boothill, which he greatly appreciated.

“Thank you, my love..” he breathed out, gently taking the roses from the others hands, filling a simple white vase with water and arranging the roses in the vase before setting it on a side table.

He turned back to his lover, pulling him into a warm hug, arms wrapping gently around the other's waist. He felt Boothill’s arms wrap around his shoulders, reciprocating the embrace.

They stood there for what seemed like an eternity, finding comfort in each other's arms. It was as if the rest of the universe faded away, finding clarity in only each other's arms. The comforting arms of Boothill encasing him in a feeling of safety and love.

Pulling away, Boothill began to speak, “Er… are ya good Rosey? Ya seemed abit… outta it when I got here.”

Regarding his question with nothing but a simple nod, he sighed,

“Yes. It was… nothing more than a distasteful dream. Nothing to be concerned about, my dear.”

Boothill wasn’t convinced, but he knew better than to push the other for more answers. He settled on kissing the other's head, grabbing his hand as he pulled him to the couch, settling down and pulling him next to him.

“That so? Well why don’t we cuddle for a bit? Ya can rest.. I’ll make sure yer night frights don’t get ya” he said with a bit of a grin, trying to lighten his mood — gently running his fingers through Argentis soft red hair.

Argenti simply sighed, melting into his lovers embrace, gently holding Boothills waist as he played with his hair, rubbing small circles into his back. They continued this for hours, simply enjoying each other's company, unbothered by the outside world.

Argenti loved this side of Boothill, the soft side that others never got to see — the side only he had the joy of knowing. He smiled, sighing contently against Boothill’s neck, before shifting to look up at him with a smile.

He froze.

There it was again.

The horrible … disgusting beady eyes of the beast in his dreams. They glared down at Argenti from the face of his beloved, taunting him, making fun of him. They knew what he was, they knew what he had done. They wanted to hurt Argenti, to make him suffer.

His grip on Boothills waist tightened, now so brushing that small dent were inlaid in his torso. Boothill twitched in surprise, moving slightly and looking down at Argenti with concern and worry in his now normal eyes.

“.. love… are ya doin ok? Ya seemed a lil’ upset… or sum…. Is eveythin’ ok?” He asked quietly, moving his hand to hold Argentis face and tilt upwards to him. To his disappointment, Argentis only jerked away from his touch, sitting up quickly, his breath now shaky and uncertain.

“Huh. Uh.. yes, my dearest. I am quite ok. I apologize for my behavior, it was uncalled for. If you’ll excuse me though.. I must use the restroom.” His words were brisk and cold, pulling out of Boothills hold and getting up, quickly walking away to the bathroom.

Once inside, he let out a shaky breath, sliding against the door to the floor. His heart was racing, fear and shock alike in his mind. The cold tiles felt ice cold beneath him, the chill creeping past his thin clothes, freezing his skin.

How could that be!? Boothill- that.. that monster… he had been in his dream, not in reality. He woke up, it was simply impossible. There was no way that could’ve happened… plus.. Boothill seemed normal, there was no way the Boothill he had left sitting alone in the couch was the one who had killed him.

Not with the way he held him, talked to him, cuddled him.

No.

It simply couldn’t be true — he tried to convince himself, there was no way that monster could have traveled through his dream.. right?? It was quite literally physically impossible.

Yes, of course. He was being an idiot. Of course there was no way for this to be true. He was being a paranoid idiot, and worrying his boyfriend — how selfish. He needed to get over this for the best of the both.

He shakily stood up, running a hand through his hair, sighing as he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked so old and distressed, what happened to him? Was it the fear of the beast? Those horrific eyes, teeth, screech… the way it fought him, hurt him, tore apart his flesh. Maybe it was the fact it looked like the person that he loves and cherishes the most? The fact that the beast took the shape of the thing he wouldn’t ever want to bring harm to.

Of course, there was the fact that it had ‘killed’ Idrilla in the dream. Which, of course, surely couldn’t ever be true either though. For it was nothing but a nasty, horrid dream. Dreams and reality have not, and never will, merge. That was a fact in itself. He leaned over the sink, elbows planted firmly on either side, just staring at himself with indifference. He needed to get a grip on himself, this behavior was pathetic. He reached out, turning on the sink — splashing ice cold water in his face to clear his mind.

That’s right. He would be fine, he would be ok.

He left the bathroom, smiling as he made his way back to Boothill. Just as he had assumed, Boothill was normal, sitting and staring off into space waiting for him to come back. “Ah. Sorry my dear, I don’t know what came over me there… it was completely inappropriate.” He said with an apologetic smile, hand over his heart.

Boothill jolted at his sudden entrance, turning his head as a smile broke out “Aw, dontcha worry darlin’! Ain’t nothin to worry about!” He chuckled, eyes crinkling with affection. “Ya good though? I’m always open t’ talk if ya need, hun” he muttered, face softening, now with a hint of concern, his eyes trying to meet with Argenti’s.

“Ah.. yes, I’m fine, thank you, my silver cowboy! I am quite alright, thank you for your concern” he smiled, brushing hair out of his eyes as he walked towards the other, metal boots echoing across the ship as he made his way over to his lover.

“How has your journey been going, my love?” He questioned, falling back into his seat — this time only facing Boothill instead of against him. He crossed his legs, filing his hands neatly in his lap, hoping Boothill wouldn’t notice.

Thankfully, he didn’t notice, or if he did — didn’t show it. Argenti let out a small sigh, eyes fixated on his partner as he delved off into exciting and dangerous retellings alike of his adventures, eyes lighting up and hands waving wildly to express more passion into his stories. Argenti listened with content, happy to just hear his beloved talking, happily narrating his eventful adventures.

He truly loved the man in front of him, staring at his every move with pure love and adoration, every smile, laugh, movement — he adored it with every being in his body. Despite this deep-rooted love for him, he couldn’t shake the fear that he felt in that ‘dream’. Every shake of his hand, jerk of his arm — Argenti expected the beast to emerge, that dreaded face — filled with bloodlust and anger — to emerge, to lunge at Argenti, to throw him to the ground, tear his body apart — rip him apart from limb to limb. He expected those horrible beady black eyes to take over, those adorably sharp teeth to become bloody and jagged, for thorn-like claws to sprout from his hands. To see the gorish sight of his cracked open body, roses and blood spilling out. It terrified him, chilled him to the bone to think about, and he hated himself for those thoughts.

He gulped, digging his nails into the palms of his hands, only stopping when he felt the warmness of blood. He shuddered, wiping his now cut hands on his pants, forcing a smile as he watched the other talk, somehow still going on about some IPC raid.

Argenti felt his chest tighten, fears icy claws staring to grip at his lungs, making it hard to breath — very movement he made, the phantom pain came back, every time he opened his mouth, he saw those hellish teeth snapping at his face, every time their eyes met, those lovely red cross-haired eyes voided into an unforgiving black — gone of all emotions. He watched him, trying to press down the incessant urge to attack, to flee, to remove the monster from his beloved and himself.

No.

But he knew that Boothill harbored no ill will, he was fine, he was him, it would be ok. He politely waited for him to finish his story, adding the occasional nod and agreement. Finally, it seemed, he had finished his glorious stories, finally stopping his talking to stare at Argenti. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that he realized he had been waiting for him to say something in reply.

“Ah- sorry my dear! It seems I am quite… distracted today. My apologies for the inconvenience.” He said quickly, jerking his hands back to his sides and smiling — trying to ignore the concerned look Boothill sent him.

“…”

“…”

“Darlin’ I…” he looked conflicted, trying to piece his words together “look.. I ain’t the best at givin advice.. but ya don’t seem alright. I mean.. argh-. What I’m tryna say is if ya need t’ talk… I’m here for ya.” He said, his voice softer than usual, reaching one hand to grasp Argenti’s cold and clammy hand. He held it so gently, rubbing his palms comfortingly. “I’m yer partner… and ya mean the world t’ me…” he trailed off, looking almost desperately into the other’s eyes.

The desperation and pure love in his eyes made Argenti feel horrible, made him feel like an ungrateful and disgusting soul. It made him want to claw the skin off his face and tear his hair out from the roots. Every kind and loving word that spilled from Boothill's mouth made him want to sink in a pit of tar, to let himself drown in despair. How could he — sit here and think that some horrid monster in his dream would appear in his lover, who was currently telling him how much he loved him — how much he would do for him.. it was truly ugly of him.

He forced a smile, squeezing Boothill’s cold metal hand back, hoping to reassure that he was, in fact, ok. He traced around the circular divots in his hands, holding onto his hand for what seemed like an eternity, trying to think of what to say — what would convince Boothill that he was ok, even if he really wasn’t.

He let his hand fall softly from his, resting it in his lap.

“.. thank you for your concern, my dearest silver cowboy.. but it is nothing more than.. night terrors. You could say,” he plastered on a smile as he muttered out the words, his eyes darting up to meet Boothills. “It really isn’t much to think about, though I am deeply grateful for the love and concern.

Boothill opened his mouth, almost as if he wanted to say something, before promptly shutting it — respecting Argenti’s choice. He averted his gaze, not wanting to meet Argentis stare. He had never been great with eye contact, but nothing about this felt correct. “..alright. If that’s what ya want.. then that’s alright.” He finally murmured, giving in.

Argenti beamed at him, pushing himself up, and clasping his hands together happily, “great! Now that we’ve cleared things up, would you like something to eat? I’ve been working on my cooking!” He grinned, starting to make his way to the small kitchen, Boothill following

“Ah… have ya now? Don’t know whether to be scared or proud…” he chuckled nervously, hand coming to scratch the back of his neck “is it somthin’ more than that crusty bread ya seem to love?” He followed up, his voice now carrying more weight, a more heavy question directed towards Argenti’s unfavorable eating habits.. or lack of eating in general.

“…”

“Yes. I have.. actually.” He muttered, leaning down to bring out a pan, “I’ve been experimenting with more recipes in fact!” Now he was collecting rice from the small cupboard along with peas and carrots from the fridge, “granted.. I may not be amazing at them all, this specific recipe I seem to excel at!” He exclaimed, pride evident in his voice as he set down the collected ingredients.

“Have ya now….” Boothill slumped in one of the stool seats, cautiously watching his boyfriend collect and put together the ingredients he had gathered “and… what’s that supposed to be…” he asked sheepishly, trying his best to sound judgemental.

Argenti ignored his undertones, instead turning to heat up a singular flame stove — heating it up and adding some mild oils. He grabbed a cutting board and knife as he turned back - “I have indeed, my dear cowboy! This dish…” he pointed to the array of ingredients, “will be Cosmic fried rice! A recipe our dear companion Trailblazer so graciously taught me!” Argenti had, at first, been skeptical about anything ‘edible’ from the trailblazer — seeing as they had a.. unique.. way of seeing the world! Nevertheless, the food turned out to be absolutely delicious, and he of course had to learn to make it!

They both appreciated each other's presence, Boothill being content to just watch Argenti work — Argenti meticulously made the recipe, following the recipe to a T. He carefully chopped every piece of carrot, making them into perfect squares, each cut sliced with precision. He cooked the rice, then transferred it into the pan to be fried along with the carrots and peas.

He slid the cubed carrots and peas in, stirring occasionally and moving the vegetables around, enjoying the smell as they slowly browned, cooking perfectly into the savory dish he was going for. After some salt, pepper, and other appropriate spices, he turned off the stove, turning around with triumph in his eyes. He placed the pan down, spooning portions of the meal into bowls, handing one to Boothill — who stared at the food, impressed that Argenti had cooked something edible. “See! I told you that I could successfully cook such a beautiful dish!”

“.. to heck with it I s’pose!” Boothill shrugged, digging in along with Argenti. They finished their meal in silence, leftover tension lingering as they sat next to each other, brushing every once in a while. The food was quite good, Boothill had to admit— especially from Argenti’s cooking.

They had finished dinner quite a bit ago, and they were sitting by each other, just finding comfort in one another’s presence. Finally, Argenti broke the silence, “… may I braid your hair, my dear?” Boothill looked at him with mild surprise, then shifted into a grin “sure, I s’pose.. my hair is quite nice, ain’t it?” He said proudly, shifting so that he was facing towards the wall, hair to Argenti, “just don’t tug too hard, hun.. can’t risk losing any” he finished, shifting slightly to get comfortable.

Argenti nodded, the cushions rising slightly as he got up to go get a comb, hair spray, and a few hair ties. Once he had gotten them, he sat down comfortably, his legs crossed as he gently covered Boothill’s hair in a fine mist of spray — gently combing through soft white locks of hair little by little. He made sure to take utmost care in the process, keeping bits from fraying, and being gentle with his tugs. He slowly intertwined his hair, braiding the locks together.

It was calming, simply enjoying this quiet time spent with one another. There were no worries here next to each other, no looming responsibilities or dangers — it was just them. Two lovers who cared about each other most in this world.

Argenti finished the braid, kissing the end before letting it settle on his shoulders. He let out a small sigh, brushing the bangs out of Boothill’s face as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his neck. He than shifted, pulling Boothill down by his waist, holding him close as he hugged him, seeking love and comfort. They remained like this for quite awhile, before Argenti rose, looking at the now sleeping Boothill beside him. He looked so incredibly peaceful like this… no anger, frustration, pain.. just gentleness.

He leaned down, gently kissing his cheek before gently picking him up. With his line of work and the constant armor and lance he bore, picking up Boothill was simply nothing. He brought him to his room, gently laying him down and pulling a blanket over him. He than pulled away, moving to lay in bed too — though something caught his eye — gold, red, and shining. He faltered, walking over to it, blinking in the darkness to see what it was.

It was his cross.

It was a beautiful cross, white and gold, with red roses adorning it. It was a symbol of his faith, his goddess. Everything he stood for.

Yet, it was also a symbol of his failures — his shortcomings of his faith.

He paused, eyes catching the soft glow of the stars drifting in through his shaded curtains. It cast a glow upon the room, filling the room with small doors of light. He stepped forward, fingers tracing every detail and etch of the cross — running over every line. He paused — lifting the small object from its place on the wall.

He held it with gentle, hesitant hands — turning it over and around, unsure of what to think.

Shame. Anger. Hatred.

These were all things Argenti felt towards himself. Especially when he was supposed to be on the path of beauty. He had sworn himself to a life of faith, a life of poverty, a line of lonesome. He had sworn himself to celibacy — sworn himself fully to Idrilla… yet here he was with a lover.

Yes. He truly did love him, yet nothing would dispel the bottomless pit of shame he felt when facing the ugly truth. He was a fake. And imposter. A poser.

He would never truly walk with THEM. He had failed before he had even started.

Everything he had ever done was a sin. Murder, love, indulgence, pain. How could he claim to be devoted to the beauty when he is the farthest from THEIR ideals? He was nothing but a scummy, disgusting, sinner. He always had, always will. He will never scrub the tainted blood from his hands, the love on his body, the pain on his wrists. He had fallen — fallen from the grace of his life’s purpose.

Could he ever repent? Could he ever even begin to be forgiven for his sins of the past and present?

Maybe, maybe not.

That was enough. These thoughts were ugly.

With a short breath he hung the cross back up, his mind clouding with an undeniable, debilitating fear. Vines closed around his heart, thorns piercing his lungs.

His mind flashed with that dream. With the beast, the horrible, disgusting beast. The brutish, beastly, disgusting creature. It all made sense now — now he finally understood. Idrilla had sent that dream to him! Of course. It all made sense now.

THEY had sent the dream to warn him — to show him the consequences of his sins, the faults of his heart. Boothill was a sin, he was temptation, he was a mistake — he was the beast. Boothill made him weak, made him sin — tempted him to do things that were horrible. Idrilla was only looking out for him, only trying to help him. THEY were showing him Boothill’s true self, a destructive, abusive, murderous, ugly beast.

Boothill was a curse to everyone he had ever met, and he would continue to hurt everyone he was around, including his ‘ever so dearest’ Argenti. Argenti was too smart though! He saw right through the man’s disguise. He knew what the cowboy really was, what he was hiding.

Boothill wanted to hurt Argenti, to make him sin, to turn him away from his faith — his goddess. He had succeeded for far too long, but now Argenti was aware, he knew everything, he understood. Boothill was the definition of ugly. He was a horrid, lying, beastly, harmful being who strove only to bring about the suffering of others. But Argenti would let him no longer! Argenti would have to put a stop to it, to prevent him from sinning any longer — to make his goddess happy.

His breath was ragged, filled with pain, fear, betrayal, and a fiery hot, burning anger. Flashes of black beady eyes boring into his skin, bloody flesh peeking out from wounds and gashes, spindly legs crawling - creeping, jagged teeth ripping into flesh, and bloody roses adorning his cursed body filled his head. Stuffed his mind with anger and hatred so debilitating he could do nothing but hate. He would cut out this thorn from the root, prying it from the holy grail of his heart. He would not let this monster rest in his heart any longer — he would not let the beast murder him again. He knew now.

With a shudder he rose, eyes glazed with pure hatred and anger. He summoned his beautifully clean and gleaming lance, gripping the handle tight enough to shatter bones, the tip brushing against the hard floor. He crept forward, the chilling night air seeping into his bones, deriving them of all warmth. His eyes, once gentle emeralds of love and adoration now snakes of malice. He had no mercy in his actions, no regret in his final choice. He was Argenti: devout follower of Idrilla, THEIR most devoted knight. He would not let this scum come between them — he would get rid of this monster.

The only sounds that could be heard were the gentle click of his metal boots on the floor and the tip of his spear gently dragging as he went. The shadows cast along his face, eliciting terror and fear over anyone who would gaze upon the knight. He stalked forward, his striking eyes fixated on the metallic body resting in his bed.he would allow it no longer.

He came to a halt just next to the cyborg — staring down at him with loathing. All he saw was the horrible beats, with beady black eyes, jagged fangs, unruly hair. He saw its mocking grin, his spindly limbs and antennae. He saw the bloody roses dripping from gashes and cracks in his metal body. This was not his love — this was a feral beast, one who wanted to kill hima me everything he had ever worked for. He would make it suffer, make it pay — make it feel the pain he did. He tore the sheets from his body, causing the other to stir from his rest. He looked up, jolting as his eyes met those unforgiving emerald ones.

His breath hitched, shifting slightly as he moved to face Argenti, still groggy from his slumber.

“Eh..? Genti’…? What are ya..” he groaned, rubbing his eyes — voice being cut off as Argenti’s lance breezed by his face, forcing a choked gasp as he jerked back. He pushed himself away from the piercing spear, eyes wide with shock, “Rosey?! What…. What the fudge..-“ he asked with shock, his blood turning to ice as he saw the look in the others eyes. Argenti’s face was shrouded in darkness, his green eyes piercing through the void of black. They were brutal, merciless, and unforgiving — staring deeply into his entire being, ripping apart his soul.

“You.” Argenti growled, pulling his lance back to his side, the gash left in the bed deep enough to pierce through Boothill’s whole body, “you… are horrible. You're a treacherous monster… you are a terrible creature.” He stood to his full height, shrouding the bed in dark, consuming shadows. With a heavy breath he crept closer, “I will make you repent for your sins, demon. You will pay for what you have done.” He growled, staring down at him unforgivingly.

Boothill, now fully awake and clearly confused, backed away slightly, “what…?” He murmured, mixed confusion and hurt in his voice as he stared up at the one he loves, who’s gaze only projected hatred. “You- … what is going on with ya darlin’…” he trailed off, he reached his hand forward cautiously, as if to pull him back to safety. Argenti huffed, lashing out — grabbing the metal hand and using his full force to pull the body connected to it to the left and off of the bed. Boothill crashed to the ground with a gasp, the metal of his body causing a loud clunk to echo throughout the room.

Boothill hissed in pain and shock, stumbling back, hands grappling wildly to find a hold to hoist himself back to his feet. He grabbed onto a plain bedside table, the erratic movements sent all its contents tumbling to the ground, clinking and clattering as they fell to the ground. “Genti’ what in the world has gotten into ya?! Why the fudge are ya attackin me? An’ what do ya mean repen-“ he was cut off with a shout from Argenti, “KEEP MY NAME OUT OF YOUR FILTHY MOUTH” he lunged at Boothill, throwing him to the ground and tumbling down with him. He pressed his hand into the other’s head, pushing it down against the ground as hard as he could, ignoring the way Boothill clawed and pulled at his wrist, trying to pull his hand away from his head.

He finally succeeded, softly throwing him backwards and rolling away, leaping to his feet. He huffed, shocked and confused at Argenti’s violent outbreak — seemingly out of nowhere. His senses were on edge, red crosshair pupils glowing and scanning — focusing on Argenti’s half hidden body.

“…”

“Come out and fight me, Boothill. Prove you are a worthy opponent, prove to me that you aren’t a useless, ugly, filthy bottom-dweller.” The words spilt from Argenti’s mouth, ice and full of poison. There was no love behind those words, his voice only filled with hate. The only sweet, loving, and calming chirp of his voice never to be heard again — replaced by this void of a copy.

Only the whirl of Boothill’s machinery and the short breaths of Argenti could be heard, the silence otherwise interrupted — the outside world seeming to fall away as the two lovers stood apart from each other , tension threatening to break. Boothill stared with shock at those vile words, confused at why Argenti would ever say those things to him.

“Ya don’t know what yer sayin hun…” he tentatively muttered, staying in place, not wanting to move towards him. “… what.. what happened? Ya seemed alright earlier…. I’m here for ya… yknow that right?” He risked a step forward, his synthetic limbs carrying him slowly “I love ya more than anythin’. I’ll always be here when ya need me darlin’” his voice reeked with sincerity, trying to break down his lovers defenses and make his way back into his heart.

There was no response from the knight, only deafening silence as neither of the, said anything. Than out of nowhere, a flash of red lunged at Boothill, throwing him to the ground with a loud crash.

“You serve no purpose other than destruction, heathen. You will destroy everything THEY have worked for, everything in their path.” This was no longer Argenti. “You bring sin upon this world — you cause me to sin. I will no longer let this go on!” There was no remorse in his voice, no trace of love. He raised his spear with as much strength as he could muster, bringing it down on his left arm, crushing and cracking the metal as if it were paper. Sparks flew everywhere as the metal and wires broke and snapped.

Boothill lurched forward — screeching in agony as his arm was ripped apart, stray wires connecting the broken and torn pieces of his arm. He wailed, rolling onto his side, cradling what was left of his destroyed arm. He struggled to push himself to his feet, his arm wobbly as it pushed him up. His eyes were bloodshot, crosshairs glowing wildly as his instincts told him to find and terminate. He couldn’t though — no matter how much he hurt him, this was Argenti. His sweet, kind, considerate, and loving boyfriend… though maybe not anymore.

He swiveled around, stumbling backwards as another attack came, Argenti’s spear sweeping low to knock him down. His voice shook, struggling to get his words out, “hey- what are ya doin?!” silence. “Fight me coward.” Argenti growled, pushing forward once more. “Fight ya?! Fork naw. I ain’t gonna fight ya Genti’! Boothill pressed back, still not willing to get close to the other. “Fight me now or I will exterminate you like a bug. I swear to Idrilla I will pull you from this world. I will let you die here alone, cold and unforgiving like your meaningless life.”

Every word stabbed deeper than any wound Argenti’s spear could pierce, digging deeper than the cold metal shell of Boothill’s faux body. Every word felt like liquid ice was being dripped into the fragile inner workings of Boothill’s being — corroding and freezing every wire and every cog inside him, drowning him in the pressure of endless water. Those words, coming from the one he loved and trusted the most, was like a knife being stabbed into him, pushed into the hilt and twisted without mercy. The realization was worse than anything he had felt since that one fateful day his home had been destroyed, everything taken from him in mere moments. He wanted to cry, wished he could cry. But he never could, never will, Argenti is right, he was only a useless monster.

This time he didn’t block the attack, he stood in waiting, letting Argenti’s final blow take him, spear ripping into his chest, tearing through layers of metal, wire, and gears. He felt the metal pierce his synthetic heart, bursting it as blue blood splattered everywhere, pouring down in waterfalls. The mind boggling pain consumed him, took over every inch of his body, filling every sensor, every touch, every movement. It was all pain, he no longer felt any peace, any relief. He fell, crashing to the ground with a crunch. His eyes were wide, his whole body shaking from the pure and fiery agony. His hands shook as he drew them to the hole in his chest feeling the gaping hole, the jagged and torn metal — the blue blood flowing profusely from the attack. It felt like a million saws were chewing him apart, like every time he moved an inch another beat bit him.

He grabbed the spear, driving the weapon deeper into his body, crushing himself even more. The tip of the blade burst out of his body, protruding from his back. He let out a shaky gasp of pain, no longer able to say anything, no longer able to feel much. He was dying, he knew this, and he accepted it. He would rather die agonizingly at the hands of his lover than alone by the hands of his enemy. He turned onto his side, blood still cascading out of his body as he shuddered, grief overtaking his mind.

He would let Argenti take his last moments, he would rather it be him.

Argenti stared down at him, anger coursing through his veins, looking down at the mangled figure of the one he claimed to have loved. The one he had shared so many dear memories with, the one he had kissed and held, the one he had promised a future with.

…

….

Fuck.

His senses came crashing down on him, realization of what he had done came crashing down upon him, forcing him to his knees. Panic and fear overtook his mind, gripping his heart and lungs with their stinging claws. How could he have done this? How could he have lost control and … hurt Boothill? He loved Boothill, he loved him more than anything, he loved him more than he loved himself.

He had killed him. He had done what he swore he would never do, he had brought unbearable pain and suffering to his lover. His entire body shook with shame, grief, anguish, and anger alike. With shaky hands he took hold of the lance, tugging it out of Boothill’s mangled body — shuddering with despair as the sharp scraping sounded out, the lance coming out, slick with blood. His hands, now covered in blue from his lover, dropped his weapon, letting the bloody metal clatter to the ground — blood dripping off it onto the ground.

He couldn’t stop the tears that fell from his face, the floodgates bursting open as he let out a heartbreaking cry. He pulled Boothill towards him with trembling hands — disgusting murderous hands. These were the devices that brought his pain, yet he was so selfish that he combined to hold him in his arms. He didn’t even fight back. Didn’t struggle. He took it — Boothill let Argenti kill him.

Boothill shifted with pain, turning in Argenti’s hold. His head tilted up, looking at Argenti in a mix of love, pain, and fear, “it’s alright hun…. I-… I know ya were yerself… kay’?” A shaky metal hand grasped his own. “I’ll always love ya… no matter what.” He met his eyes, staring deeper into his soul than he ever thought possible,

“I forgive ya.”

And then nothing.

Argenti wailed, his heartbroken screams echoing through the whole ship, into the vast cosmos themselves. He cradled the cyborg cowboys body close, wishing to feel any last remnants of heat, anything to indicate he had one been alive. Everything ached, his heart, body, arms… everything. He ran his fingers through Boothill’s hair, the lingering blood on his fingers turning the white hair sticky and blue. He pulled him tight to his chest, his tears falling onto the other. He pressed his face into the top of his head, relishing the feeling, and accepting this would be the last time he would ever do so.

He gently laid Boothill down, mind finally calming — he knew what was right, what he had to do. He glanced over to his spear, blood still wet and shimmering — the irony smell oh so familiar. He reached out, holding it tightly in his hands. He had failed everyone. Idrilla, Boothill, himself. He no longer had any purpose left, he was a sinner — not because of Boothill, but because of his own faults. He always let his own mind and his feelings take control of himself, letting his fears and own desires come before rational. He no longer served any point in being in this universe anymore, he no longer deserved to live — not when the one he so dearly loved perished by his own actions.

He had made peace with this, made peace with the fact he was going to die. Maybe he would finally be reunited with his beloved, maybe then they could forget everything, put these tainted lives behind them, and finally be free of mortal sin. Maybe they could finally live without regrets, without fault, without fear and deception.

Yes, that sounded nice.

He was sorry though. He never meant for this to happen, he never wanted to ever hurt anyone, he never wanted to cause pain. He had only ever wanted to help, to uplift. To bring life and joy to everyone in these beautiful cosmos.

He had forsaken Idrilla.

But that was behind him. He will die for those he could not save, and would die for those he would hurt in the future.

He drew the sharp point to his chest, taking a deep shaking breath — he plunged the spear in. Blood gushed around the entrance, bones crushing, veins breaking. The pain was so unbearable, so agonizing. Worse than anything he had felt, worse than any dream he had slept. He felt the spear ripping through his body, tearing flesh apart — blood seeping out of his wounds. He shoved the lance deeper, screaming with pain as he felt it stab straight through his heart. His body shook, the effort to stay sitting was too much — he didn’t know how much longer he could endure it.

Odd.

The lance that had protected him — saving him from danger, had finally pierced him. He had become a victim to the blade he used on others, he was nothing more than a number on its record.

He fell, eyes fluttering closed, against Boothill's limp body — blood of red and blue pooling around the two, mixing into a deep unforgiving purple.

His weakening body heaved Boothill into his arms, fingers shakily stroking through his now blood matted hair. His tears fell onto his beloved, staining both his cheeks and the latters face with tears. He gripped the ice cold metal as if he would come back to life if he held him tight enough.

Like he could just undo what he had done, how horribly he had messed up. How horrendous he had failed his partner. How much.. he had hurt him.

There was a time that Boothill had talked to Argenti — on a peaceful planet years ago. He had talked about his family.

His dear fathers who loved and raised him as if he were their own — who had taken him in when he was left to perish. He loved them, more than they’ll ever know. They will never know how much he loved them, because they were lost forever to that wretched fire.

He talked about his many siblings, young and older. He would tell tales of bright days full of horseback riding, playing in the fields, messing around with the animals, and causing mischief on the ranch. He told of star-filled nights in which he and his older siblings would camp out, singing together, playing the guitar, simply strengthening their bond as siblings, even if not by blood. He would reminisce of watching his younger siblings, how he would try and fail and baking with them, how he would let his little sisters braid his hair, and give him cute hairstyles. How all his siblings would always ask if they could join the older siblings on their escapes. Of course, they couldn’t, but they always asked. He told of bonds that couldn’t be broken by anything but death. Of course, it would be death that stabbed a life through their lives.

He told Argenti about his beautiful daughter. At first, Argenti had laughed and asked who the woman was, only to be corrected that she was adopted. Argenti had found a deep kind of admiration in that. To protect and love such a young and vulnerable child. Of course, it didn’t surprise him. Boothill was very kind and loving despite his outward demeanor. He knew he would do anything for those he loved. It was so clear, from the way he talked about her, how much he loved her. ‘She was only learning to walk.’ He had said. This had broken Argentis heart, the innocent soul, ripped from this universe all too soon. Ripped from his dearest’s hands.

He held his lover tighter, sobbing desperately onto his body — not that it mattered. They were both dying, it would no longer matter, ever again.

How ironic was it, that the red that seeped out of Argenti was the same fiery red of Argenti’s own hair?

The pain, so excruciating and hellish, started to dull, funnily enough, he wanted the pain. Wanted to feel the shame he deserved for killing his beloved — wanted to feel what boothill had felt as the love of this life betrayed him, stabbing him.. stabbed by the one he loved and trusted the most.

He was always a murderer. A murderer to the ones he loved most. He could never keep anyone he loved alive. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own — he was always the one pulling the “trigger”.

With blurring vision, he reached over, grasping Boothill’s ice cold hand, holding it in his own. His eyes meeting Boothill’s own lifeless ones.

“I love you.”

And than there was nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The beautiful bright sun shone down upon a luscious green field. The soft blades of grass swaying in the breeze — hundreds of colorful flowers filling the air with their sweet smell. It was so ethereal — like it had been torn out of a storybook, every detail perfect and bursting with life

Two gravestones lay in the middle of the field — interrupting the field’s quiet peace.

The left grave. It wasn’t very grand. It was simple, a slab of stone, with only the engravings “Boothill, galaxy Ranger” it was a simple writing — his chosen name and the role he had took to erect his revenge. It was below this that they added his faults “in memory of one who couldn’t let go of revenge, and fell to the hands of the one who kept him living”

How sad, but how true it was. How pathetic.

To die at the hand of your lover? The one person he had trusted with his life in all the galaxies, the one person he had loved enough to let him take his life.

Did it matter though? His life was quite pathetic, a person who had thrown away his body and humanity — blinded by the red sea of revenge.

How ironic was it? That that revenge never came, to never have stood a chance.. merely a bug under a shoe.

Oh.. and on the right stood a much more grand stone.

It was delicately carved marble. Rosettes engraved along the edges of the stone, now wilted roses surrounding it.

Elegantly carved writing read — “in loving memory, Argenti: cherished memory of the Knights of beauty” how elegant.. just like the soul it held. “Taken from the light too soon, brave, and gracing this world with his Beauty. May he find his salvation with Idrilla.”

How beautiful was his gravestone. A man of his faith, following it almost blindingly. He would have done anything for his path — his self hatred and guilt would make sure of it.

For if he was not a man of his Aeon.. what was he?

For he had no purpose other than to serve THEM. His means of salvation, his purpose for living..

How ironic was it? For a knight of beauty to see beauty in everything but himself?

Poor, poor, Argenti. So blinded by his love and trust for his Aeon. Of course, it wasn’t her fault though — it was always him, it would always be his fault.

How pathetic of a knight he was, so incapable. He was a knight void of beauty — not worthy of the title.

How perfect the two were for each other. Two stubborn souls so set on their goals it blinded them. While that’s what made their love blossom.. It was also their greatest fault. Their love is the thing that brought their untimely death — their final departure from this world.

Oh, but while it lasted.. how beautiful was it. It was as if they were in a storybook — where the two young lovers fall for eachother, two worlds unable to hold them apart, falling ever so deep in love, their shared feelings making them perfect in each other's embrace.

Those two graves spoke much of their lives.

Boothills life — void of everyone who he had loved, taken from him all too soon, from his fathers who had taken him in, loved him, and nourished him — to his siblings, friends.. his oh so precious daughter… everyone he had ever known.. burned to ashes in moments.

It was so ironic.. how the last thing he had let himself love had been the one to finally take him.

To betray and end his suffering.

The empty tombstone said it all. There was no one who cared about Boothill, no one who knew who he was. There would be no one to clean his final resting place, to leave him flowers.. to talk and tell him about their day. Everyone he loved was dead.

For all his efforts to put himself out there, to make a name for himself, he was nothing but a single star in the sky. One in billions of the same. He was the same as everyone else — nothing more than an ant under someone's shoe.

He was nobody.

And no one cares for a Nobody.

Argenti, on the other hand, had a beautiful stone, with so much love and care put into it.

Funny how the roses were wilted.

No one would ever put more though.

As the beauty was temporary, artificial if you must. Just like his own relationship with beauty.

He could pretend all he would like, to become a fraud of what he believed he would be. But alas, his own loathing of himself turned him away from the path he worked so hard to follow — preventing him from truly being seen by THEM.

He would no longer be seen by the other knights, by his old comrades, by the beauty. He would forever chase the beauty that he would never be granted access too.

What a shame, it is.

His beauty would run out, and no one would ever be there to see it. It would simply leave this world, forever gone, to never be seen by anyone ever again. His flaws, his misgivings would be simply eradicated.

Maybe then his sins would finally be judged.

In the end, two lovers who had failed. Fallen to fault by loving each other. How sad — everyone always says love is the way out, the way of pure happiness.

But no, not for them. It was their downfall — their greatest mistake, and now they would only have themselves to blame.

Their graves were lonely, sitting victim to time. How long had it been since their companions visited them? Had they grieved for the tragic lovebirds? Had they even cared? Maybe they had at one point, grieving over lost souls, taken from them too soon.

But alas, their own lives had taken precedence, journeys and missions overwhelming them.

Maybe they had forgotten? Maybe they no longer cared? Maybe they, too, were dead.

It didn’t matter much anymore, because they couldn’t know either way, for they weren’t even alive.

They lay in the soft earth together though

Forever they would be together, whether they like it or not.

They would be forgotten with time.

Forgotten together in the shackles of death.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A Crow.

Alone on the branch.

It stuck out like a sore thumb among the brown and greens of the trees, the cotton candy sunset in the background.

It was a pretty thing, shiny black feathers adorning its body. The poor crow though, its wings looked deformed, as it had been injured in the past, struggling as it left them unhealed. Someone had tried to help it; the metal rings on its legs making that clear, akin to shackles keeping it down.

Crows are always looking for shiny things, scouring everywhere they could. This crow was looking very intently everywhere, it seemed to be looking to find its shiny.

Ah..

A bright red cardinal perched next to the lonely crow.

He was such a beautiful bird, vibrant, gorgeous red feathers decorating him. The light hit the feathers at such a perfect angle, it was like he was sparkling.

Surely this was his shiny?

They chirped happily at each other, creating a song of love and adoration.

It was beautiful — the two birds admired each other, pressing against each other with love.

It was so obvious they loved each other, how could it not be? When they looked at each other like the other were the brightest star in the sky, the most beautiful ray of sun after a rainstorm.

Their bodies pressed together, black and red merging together, making it hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Despite their obvious differences.. they loved each other more than life itself. They were perfect for one another. Nothing would be able to keep them apart, not even death itself.

It was a strange pair, though. Who had ever seen a ruffled crow and a beautiful cardinal with each other? It didn’t matter to them though, they had each other forever!

They took off together, the branch bouncing slightly, and leaves drifting to the ground in their wake, showering the soft green grass in leaves of red, green, and yellow alike. The crow had a bit of a rough takeover, his wings slowing him — cashing him to stumble, but of course, the cardinal was right by his side the whole time.

They flew off into the sunset, flecks of red and black getting smaller and smaller as they glided off.

They would be happy, living their lives together and carefree.

They could finally leave the shackles and graves of their past behind.

Maybe they could finally start their happily ever after….

.

.

.

.

………

[Fin.]