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There was a time eons ago when Knowledge was whole. Complete, and guiding, Knowledge held everything in the palm of his hand. He was merely a whisper of light for one cookie’s ears only.
But times change.
That cookie is merely any other cookie.
Sometimes he doesn’t listen.
Sometimes the whispers of Knowledge can only drive one farther away.
And he tried.
Witches, did he try to hold on. Because what is Knowledge when no cookie can hear it? When his pleas are ignored? When the outside world ignores him in favor of something sinister and sweet? It tugs and bites and pulls.
And he could see the frustration on his face.
So Knowledge holds onto himself, desperate, tired, and angry. He chews on his finger, his light feeling dimmer and dimmer. The depravity of the world drives him away. He sinks further into himself. The cookie who once held him is no more, and the tugging begins.
It pulls.
And pulls.
And pulls.
And he feels a gentle embrace around him.
Looking up, he sees a soft blue light that cups his face. He gasps in surprise, allowing the stranger to open their eyes and gasp in return. In his void, he was alone. But not anymore.
For he is Deceit. And he is Truth.
No words have to be spoken for that realization to be made. He feels…different. Incomplete. There is a part of his mind that is missing.
So Deceit reaches up and cups Truth’s face, watching as that mesmerizing, radiant smile shines his way. Every bit of beauty seems to have fallen onto him. Every good aspect of Knowledge morphed into a deity.
Deceit can’t blame himself for only wanting him closer.
He cups his face, his neck, and his shoulders. Truth does the same, intrigue plaguing his mind. Their cheeks brush together and their bodies press against one another. Nothing is ever enough. Deceit pulls back and gazes softly at Truth. Truth gazes back. They smile.
And then he is taken away.
It’s quick.
In a blink, Deceit is holding his most cherished love, and in the next, Truth is no more.
He’s gone.
He’s far away.
He can feel him, but he can’t quite reach him.
So Deceit turns to Shadow Milk.
Time is long in the tree. Shadow Milk does nothing but vent and plan revenge. Deceit is told to stay quiet.
“You were never good before,” Shadow Milk spits at him. “Pretty sure you aren’t going to be useful now.”
Deceit snorts. He’ll show him one day that telling him to shut up is a pathetic idea. But he’ll have to wait until they’re out of the tree.
So he waits.
Things are dark. Loud. It’s mainly Shadow Milk’s voice.
He can see the other Beasts, but not their Lights. Their voices do not carry through like Shadow Milk’s. In fact, they only really speak when they tell him to shut up.
It makes Deceit giggle. It pisses Shadow Milk off even more.
But he sits in the darkness, counting the seconds. The hours. The days.
Time moves slowly, he realizes. Shadow Milk will have moments where he’s mouthy, and moments where he’s plotting to himself. Everything passes in phases. Deceit has started keeping track of these phases.
Moody. Mouthy. Angry. Mouthy. Moody. Angry. Moody. Mouthy.
He thinks about the Light of Truth. He feels for him.
He’s there, he thinks. In the back of his mind. In a corner he can’t reach. His lips part, and he remembers his smile. He remembers the gentle grip on his shoulders as he tugged him closer by the waist. He was beauty incarnate. He was inspiring.
He was everything Deceit is not.
So he waits.
He counts the months. The years. The decades.
He thinks about Truth some more. Is he reaching out for him as well? Does he feel it? The gaping, aching hole in his chest? Like there is something missing.
Because Deceit feels it. Every second of every decade.
Shadow Milk goes quiet for a year. If Deceit didn’t know any better, he’d think he’s dead. But no, he’s just sulking. Rotting.
When he gets up again, he doesn’t shut his mouth until a year later. Then he sulks. Then he’s mouthy.
Mouthy. Moody. Mouthy. Moody.
So he waits.
Deceit sits in his void. His empty, boring void. He had never noticed before how empty it was. Knowledge never seemed to mind it. But Knowledge was whole. Knowledge never had to deal with the gnawing desires that Deceit has to deal with. He never met Truth.
He thinks about Truth.
He yearns for Truth.
Has he forgotten the touch of his hand? His face pressed against his own? His body aching to meld with his light?
It scares him.
Deceit hugs himself tightly.
And he stays quiet.
He chews on his lip.
He breathes.
His mind drowns out Shadow Milk.
He wants Truth.
Truth.
Truth.
If he thinks hard enough, he can feel him. He can press his fingers to his face. He can picture him perfect and clear. He can. He can.
He wants Truth.
He wants Truth.
He needs Truth.
He waits.
Mouthy. Moody. Angry. Moody. Angry. Mouthy.
He desires Truth.
Oh witches, does he desire Truth.
He waits.
He waits.
He waits.
Moody. Angry. Moody. Angry.
He waits.
He waits.
He needs Truth.
He needs Truth.
He waits.
Waits.
Waits.
Mouthy. Angry. Mouthy. Moody.
He counts the decades.
Centuries.
Millenia.
Millenia.
He waits.
He waits.
He claws.
He screams.
And then.
It’s quiet.
And he can feel the shift.
Shadow Milk is looking out, and he follows.
And there he sees it: someone has earned the Light of Truth.
Holding him in his hands oh so tenderly. He’s hopeful. Tired. He’s earned him.
And Shadow Milk laughs.
“Seriously?” he says. “This is whose going to be my replacement? Bah! I mean just look at him! He’s so…mortal.”
“Not anymore,” Deceit corrects.
The cookie who holds Truth does not matter. Just as long as they treat him well. And this cookie looks soft and innocent enough. His smile and laughter match Truth quite well.
Shadow Milk sneers. “I hope the truth fails him like it failed me.”
Deceit sneers right back at him. “Truth–nor Knowlegde–failed you. It was the cookies who asked for such.”
“Still counts,” Shadow Milk says before turning to glare at him. “And zip it. I like you better when you’re pouting.”
“Mimimi,” Deceit mocks.
But his words don’t matter. Because there is Truth. There he is. Maybe this means he’s close to seeing him again. To holding him again. Maybe more. He almost cries at the thought. Shadow Milk looks at him weird.
And then he’s back to counting the seconds.
To counting the days.
The months.
The years.
Deceit watches alongside Shadow Milk. They watch as Pure Vanilla becomes a king. They watch as he goes through war. Nothing matters though, because Deceit can feel Truth with him along the way. He can feel his whispers even across the dangerous waters.
Can he feel him?
Does he know he’s watching?
From here, Deceit can see Shadow Milk’s growing fondness for the wielder of the Light of Truth. He doesn’t voice it, but the softening of his gaze says everything. Perhaps when they get out of here, Deceit can be with Truth once more.
If.
If they get out of here.
It seems like a fairytale. But well, they are being guarded by faeries. And it just so happens to be a moment when Deceit isn’t playing attention.
He feels it first. The closeness. Creeping closer and closer. He thinks he’s dreaming. Until he looks up.
And he sees him.
His body freezes.
There Truth is. In a form closer to his yielder’s appearance. But that doesn’t matter.
Because he’s here.
He’s right in front of him.
He’s as radiant as ever.
And Deceit doesn’t know what to say.
So Truth smiles at him. “I missed you,” he softly says. Voice so small it almost breaks.
Deceit steps closer, fearing that he might collapse any second. “Are you really here…?”
Truth’s arms open, his gaze as gentle as ever. Something he must have obtained from Knowledge.
But he doesn’t need to say anything else. Because Deceit is grabbing him and pulling him against his chest. He exhales, letting his nails dig into his back. Truth feels just as desperate, hugging him tighter and tighter.
“I missed you so much,” Deceit says, pulling back to cup Truth’s face.
“I missed you too,” Truth says, nuzzling into his palm. “It’s been far too long.”
It had.
So Deceit doesn’t reject the hands on his sides. The body against his. The lips against his mouth. He never wants to leave this space ever again. Because he has his Light of Truth right in his arms.
He kisses him. He holds him. He loves him.
He completes him.
Until Truth pulls back and brushes a finger against his cheek. “I’m sorry, my love,” he mumbles, “but I have to go.”
Deceit lets out a pathetic sound at his words. “But I just got you back.”
“I know,” Truth mumbles. “But your friend is kind of getting his ass beat.”
Sure enough, Deceit turns around and sees Shadow Milk losing to the current holder of Freedom.
He huffs. “He can take care of himself.”
Truth giggles. “Even so, this isn’t a goodbye,” he says. “I will see you soon. I’m sure of it.”
Deceit sighs, leaning in to press a few kisses to Truth’s neck. “Do you have to?” he says. “Please. I don’t want to lose you again.”
Truth coos, combing his fingers through his hair. “I don’t either. And I won’t. I’ll make sure of it, okay?”
He has all the trust in the world in his love. He leans in and kisses him, missing the sweet, vibrate taste against his tongue. “You better,” he breathes against him, sighing deeply.
And with one last kiss, Truth is gone again, but he isn’t as far as before. He’s there. He’s breathing. Deceit can feel him.
“Alright,” Shadow Milk grumbles. “Let’s just focus on that half-penny for now.”
Sounds like a great plan.
And once again, Deceit is counting the seconds.