Work Text:
It was all an illusion. You should have known all along, after all, it was your lie. Your convoluted plot to bring about the downfall of the world, this deceit, this betrayal. But you knew. You knew it wasn't real. You knew that love can never be an illusion, love is nothing compared to your magnificent plans. But then why does something still nag at you? Why do you feel a reluctance to let go? You’re familiar with betrayal, it is practically a necessity to accomplish your goals. So why is this not the same? You’re an artist, you paint elaborate lies and schemes, but you know not to get caught up in the detail and lose track of the whole. You meant to betray them, to use their love to your advantage, then ruthlessly throw it away. But then why do you feel like you’re the one who was betrayed?