A/N: Little thing I came up with one day. Honestly, I built an entire ship and story(s) over Reiko's little flashback when he was plotting with Goro. Mild slashy themes although they can be ignored. Set in MKX comic-verse. R/R would be much appreciated.
"There won't be any goodbyes between us. There won't be anything anymore. You and I weren't made to last anyway. Bonds of lust are rarely, if ever, deserving of remorse. I will not ask for forgiveness for what I'm about to do, I have no need for such a thing. I have no intention to apologize either. I know of what you plan. You tire of Mileena's unstable reign. I cannot disagree but do not think for even a bare second I will be handing over the throne I intend to sit upon either. I care not if Mileena claims legitimacy by blood. I alone am Shao Kahn's protege. The title of Kahn'um belongs to me. Not you. Not anybody else.
There was a time when I would have supported you. When I would have stepped back and watched you ascend the throne. Perhaps I would have even been one among the many faithful supporters you have garnered in Mileena's court. That time rests in a grave now. Back at the mountain range where you struck down the earth giant with a solar beam, defeating him when I was unable. At that time, I would have believed with all my being that you were god. Do you remember?
There was a time when I would have laid down my life to protect you under some sort of warped delusion. That time is blind now. Just as you were in the caverns underground when you first showed me your weakness. At the time, I wanted to believe you meant to, that you trusted me enough. A warrior's weakness is, after all, as fatal to expose as their back. But I know now that was only me looking through my kaleidoscope, embellishing the image through opaque gems. The torch I bore was a funeral pyre to send off the fractured eras of our past. You bled. At that time, I could not believe I was witnessing a mere mortal. Do you remember?
The time is now for me to sever our ties. They were weak anyhow as I'm sure we've both become aware. No remorse, no regrets, no hint of sorrow. The time for tears never existed at all. Not for us. Even now, I cannot believe I ever allowed you to deceive me with laurels wreaths and roses, red as the blood you drink. Still, perhaps I never would have opened my eyes to my own blindness had you told me before, those simple yet replete words. Had you taken the hand when it was still outstretched. Looking back now, those follies were as superfluous as this letter. And so now, I remain with only this left on my tongue: you don't need to remember. Not anymore."
A fire crackled at the heart of the village square, a large funeral pyre for the old regime. Books, artifacts, tapestries. All unnecessary glorification of the brief Dynasty of Mileena was set ablaze, transforming her marks of legitimacy to ash.
Inside the dimly lit room, a large, imposing figure stood reclined against the earthen walls. He held an ivory parchment in his hands, still new but musty from never having touched the light of day. The torch protruding from the wall beside him illuminated the small strict typeface written in deep red ink along the paper. His calloused fingerprints grazed the dark spot marring the header of the letter. It was of little consequence though, he knew it was his own name that laid covered by the blot of ink. He refolded the letter as he had found it just as the sound of fluttering wings neared the entrance of the room. The Kytinn woman entered the room, silent as a gnat, and picked up the stack of books set by the entrance without needing to be told. More food for the fire.
"Do you wish for this one to take that as well?" She asked in her chittering voice, nodding her head towards the paper she could see him holding.
"No..." He raised the letter to the torch positioned beside him and set the paper ablaze. "That won't be necessary." The flames ignited the thin parchment with ease, eating away until only a few pieces of legible words surrounded by smoldering embers remained in his palm. His gaze did not raise again to meet the black, fractured eyes of the insect queen. Instead, it lingered on the name that seemed to taunt him where the closing was on the black rimmed paper: Reiko. He tilted his hand ever so slightly, scattering the remains to the ground.