Disclaimer: I own the Sisters Grimm. NOT! I own Diana and Moth's back-story. Though, her I own.
Inspired by/Based Upon: A character from my epic-fic in the works. And the Iron Fey series, a bit, that specific part about the Ice Realm (Fae) and the Summer Realm (Faerie). Oh, and me trying to write another addition to my OneHundred Challenge, and failing to try to keep this in the song limit and keeping the theme.
Summary: "'Should I really? Should I throw everything away?' Her life was wonderful before he left her at the altar; it all spiraled down from there." OneShot
Rating: T
"Finnick and I sit for a long time in silence, watching the knots bloom and vanish, before I can ask, 'How do you bear it?'
Finnick looks at me in disbelief. 'I don't, Katniss! Obviously, I don't. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking.'"
~Mockingjay
The vial in her hand seems like the heaviest thing in the world. She looks through the clear, supposedly harmless liquid in it and contemplates her idea. At first it gives the impression of being stupid, until she realizes how much pain it would save her from.
She crawls up in a dry corner. She stares at the dirty walls, the floor covered in murky, brown water, the rusted iron preventing her from escaping.
This is not a place for royalty. Not a place for a princess.
Impressions of her life start to flood her mind. She remembers being princess of the Ice Realm, her in her wedding dress about to begin the wedding that would never happen, her little sister's toothy grin...
It starts to drift to worse memories, Oberon dying, framing Cobweb, Puck leaving her at the altar, seeing him with that Grimm girl.
Her life was wonderful before he left her at the altar, everything spiraled down from there.
She lets out a cry, tears falling down her face.
How did this happen?
The question has been ringing in her head for weeks. Although she knows the answer, she had poisoned Oberon, but what led her do doing so?
Sure, she knows she wanted to be Queen, still does, but only a complete monster would take the life of another just for power. What scares her most was that she doesn't even feel that sorry about it.
I really am a monster aren't I?
A voice comes in her mind to reply to her question.
No, you don't. You're still a good person.
She tries to keep on repeating that sentence in her head. But another sentence speaks louder than the first.
Yes, you are, you deserve this fate.
She lets out a scream and covers her ears, to try to stop that voice from speaking again.
"No! No! Make it stop! Please, somebody!" she shouts, obviously in a great deal of pain. But no one comes to help her, for nobody cares. She puts away the vial, and closes her eyes, which causes clear tears to start falling down her face.
Obviously, she finds no comfort in sleep as nightmares flood her dreams, which causes her to wake up, and once again her eyes land on the vial with the clear liquid inside. She uncaps it and brings it to her lips. No, not just yet. She puts back the cap on and lets it roll around the floor. But then again, would anyone care if she died right now, right here?
They won't, they might even be happy because nobody cares about her.
Nobody cares about her anymore, although she knows it's true she refuses to believe her. Someone must still care, her sister must still care, her parents; although dead, must still care. But why would they? Her parents are most probably ashamed while her sister has probably already given up on her because of the many broken promises she has told her.
She lets out another scream, these memories are torturing her. Once again no one comes because nobody cares.
She stares at the murky water on the floor, back at a stranger.
Who are you? she thinks
She can't recognize the face. Who is this person? She thinks once more. This person doesn't have her extravagant, pale, blonde hair or her beautiful brown eyes or her clean, porcelain skin, not even her magnificent blue wings.
No, this person has dirty blonde hair, covered with dust, her brown eyes are bloodshot, her skin dark due to the layers of dirt, her wings torn.
She splashes the water, making her reflection ripple away.
Once again her she looks at the vial in the corner.
Wait. Please, just wait.
"Hi, my name is Diana. And who might you be?" says the girl, recently thrust into the cell with her.
"Moth."
"Ah, you're the one who poisoned Oberon?" she nods, tears starting to streak down her face. Diana seems taken aback. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. Don't worry, at least you've got some company now."
"I regret it so much." she says, hiccuping. Diana gives her a hug, and she thinks that maybe, just maybe, right now, someone cares.
It all ends though when Diana is brought out of the cell a few weeks later. Diana actually made her reconsider her thoughts about the vial. But now that she is gone, now that there's no one who cares anymore...
A few more days pass and she realizes that even if she had a friend for at least three weeks she knows that maybe she was just pretending. She was a worthless little peas-
She prevents herself from finishing the sentence.
I'm trying to change...
But will anyone care if she does? Will it matter?
Do you think anyone will care if I die? Do you think I deserve this fate?
I don't think so.
Her eyes land on the vial in the corner.
Tomorrow, I'm doing it tomorrow.
She examines the vial in front of her, endless questions in her head. Right now, she's sort of glad the guards didn't notice she had it enclosed in her palm when she was thrown in the cell. She looks at the clear liquid, and thinks about her next decision. She knows that this is supposed to be her last resort, but the memories, the experiences, the nightmares are making life so painful. The regret, the past, the murder she committed...
But she'd be released in six more years!
But she knows she couldn't live like this for six more years. Escape is impossible, every time she tries the iron burns her skin making her collapse in agony.
She looks around the room again, memories of the past few days start to flood her mind again.
Nobody cares.
Should I really? Should I throw everything away just like that? I don't want to die, but I deserve it.
Please, I don't want to die yet, should I really? Should I? Should I?
She crouches down to the ground and writes words in the dust.
She lifts the vial to her lips and takes a small sip, and although not immediately, she drops down dead.
I'm sorry... is Moth's final thought
"Hey Moth! Hopefully you haven't forgotten me yet, it's me Diana!" the aforementioned girl says, passing by different cells to reach the one that she previously stayed in. "Moth? Moth?"
She goes to the cell and finds shattered glass and a dead body on the floor.
Diana drops her things and screams. "Guards? Guards!" she calls. "You need to help me! Moth is dead!"
She peers through the iron bars and sees Moth's final message written in the dirt.
"Forgive Me."
AN: I never knew I could write so dark. Do you like it? Hate it? Want to smash your computer for letting you read something so horrible? Love it?
Now you know how I say I have this epic fic that I'll publish as soon as I get book 9? Well, Diana is going to be a minor, but important character in it. And this is an important backstory to a very important character. If Moth seems OOC, then well, it's because she's sorry about stuff and all that.
In short: Moth is having a terrible life in jail, and since she thinks that nobody cares about her, she commits suicide with poison that they didn't notice she had. She's also getting close to complete and utter insanity. Look at it this way, have you ever read the Hunger Games? You know how the victors want to die because the memories of their past are haunting them? Imagine that happening to Moth.
If you don't think Moth would commit suicide and wait six more years with those thoughts, nightmares, and regrets, I'm sorry.
Review.
-A