Work Text:
People often mix up the god of death and the reaper. The reaper is better described as the god of dying. She is deathless, so cannot be the god of it. The god of death is the god who dies. He does not know he is the god of death. He lives and dances in the planes, followed everywhere by his shadow. They talk and wander and help the wayward. The god of death and his reaper. Eventually he finds out. He sees his image on a temple, despite being a brand new god. He sees the way the grass begins to wilt about his feet. He turns to his shadow, his beloved. And she looks at him, scythe in hand. Sometimes he screams. Sometimes he cries. Sometimes he kisses her as his blood soaks the ground. Never does he remember. Sometimes the reaper cries. Sometimes she takes her scythe upon herself. But she never cuts too deep. For she promised the god of death this service. Death must die to know the world. Death must die to let the world die and be born. She remembers.
She does not call herself the reaper. She is not the god of dying, though she always is and never does. She calls herself the bride of death. Always the bride, never the wife. For that would require him to return her vows.
And so the bride of death finds him again and becomes his shadow. Finding light in the momentary laughter before the blood.