Disclaimer: Weiss owns Nero. Square Enix owns both Weiss and Nero and DOC. I wish I owned Nero, but I don't own nothing, people, 'cept my laptop and my imagination, and those aren't for sale.
He was the dark, the unloved, the fallen; alone and desolate. He was broken dreams and sorrows – where he went, the pall of Night followed, trailing him like a shroud. His kingdom was in Nightmare and shadows, barred forever from the sun, and rightly so, for he was tainted, unclean and a creature unfit to tread the surface of the Earth.
Shadows have no right to love.
Nero knew that. But what is forbidden is also desirable, and Nero, though a Tsviet, was no exception to the rule.
The light drew him inexorably, as a candle flame draws moths at night, only to have them turn to ash, filmy grey in the waning flame. It was – Weiss was – everything he was not; all he could only hope to be but fail at. He wanted it so badly, wanted to be able to feel sunlight warm across his face and the wind against his skin, without the restraints digging into flesh as the darkness within and without roiled in agony. But light tore into his very essence, melting bone and rending flesh. His skin burned in Weiss's presence, even though it killed the younger to be parted from his brother.
He could never be white, could never be perfect, could never be pure, but at least what he could do, was to ensure that his brother would never be sullied, that his sun would never be darkened. Let the blood soak his hands, let the lost souls of thousands rest heavy upon his conscience, let the dark fall upon him and consume him completely, let him lose all hope of redemption – but the pure would not be defiled. Could not be destroyed, because then Weiss would die, and with him, Nero would go.
It struck him as ironic – how things he had only heard of, things so intangible and weightless, little more than dying leaves borne on the wind – could cause so much hurt. Love and beauty, Nero realized too late, robbed the hearts of men. But he was content, because if Weiss was happy, then so was he.
"Yuffie Kisaragi," he smirked, glaring into the wide eyes of a frightened ninja, "How convenient. I was short a few souls, and came to collect."
And then the shadows descended.
A/N: Reviews would be much appreciated. I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense because I wrote it in 20 minutes, and it's late where I am. Plus I was flailing with incoherence over Nero WIN in Dirge of Cerberus just about 5 minutes before Nero muse hit me, so I HOPE it's okay.