The title is secretly a hilarious inside joke!
This was originally written as a oneshot, then I decided I wanted to make a chaptered fic out of it, and then I decided to just leave it as a oneshot. The longer story of Remilia and Flandre I wanted to tell will instead be part of a much more involved Touhou fic I'm planning to write sometime after I finish my current bigger project, Heartbeat. Until then, I hope you enjoy this little bit of Touhou!
"Are we going to be like those…things?"
Remilia couldn't see her sister. A cloud had drifted in front of the moon, and what little light made it through the small, barred window was unable to penetrate the thick shadows around them. She groped blindly until her hand met flesh—an arm—she clutched it. "No, Flan," she said, trying to keep the tremors form her voice.
"But we are," came the whisper. The younger Scarlet was completely still against her sister. Remilia shuddered. "Because…" She couldn't feel even a heartbeat. "When a demon bites you, you—"
"Stop it," Remilia commanded, tightening her grip on Flandre's arm, as if she might find a pulse if she searched deeper. "Flan. We're no different. Just because we—" She couldn't say it. "It doesn't change who we are."
"I feel different." Flandre didn't sound too scared now. She idly traced her finger over the collar of Remilia's ruined dress, and found it came away wet. "They're all treating us different."
She couldn't stop her tears now. "You'll never be any different to me," she whispered. "Flandre."
"Remi," said the girl as though in answer. "I think we're demons." Her sister's body heaved with a violent shudder, but Flandre didn't stir. "People don't have wings, right?"
"No." Remilia glanced up sharply as she heard the sound of footsteps, but after a moment she realized they were the hoofbeats of a horse, somewhere far away. "But we are not demons."
"Really?" A chill ran up the elder Scarlet's spine as she caught a glimpse of vibrant red gleaming in Flandre's eyes before it faded away. The girl had turned her face up to her sister, the first time she'd moved in a while.
Remilia stroked her arm. "Really."
Flandre asked, "Then what are we? Angels?"
"Yes," she said before she could stop herself. Why did she say that? Flandre probably didn't even believe in angels, not really.
"Oh." That was all Flandre spoke for a minute. Then, softly, she said, "We must be the wrong kind of angel."
Remilia didn't know what to say to that. She didn't feel angelic, looked in this dirty cell without food or water, their survival without sustenance no miracle but rather another horror to their jailers. And if they were angels, certainly she would be able to see their mother and father again…
As if to remind her of reality, Flandre's slight movement rattled one of the segments of iron chain scattered on the floor. "You're cold, Remi."
Remilia shifted uncomfortably. "I don't—"
"You're cold." Flandre said it insistently, as if Remilia had argued with her, but she didn't move away. "I'm cold."
Cold as death. There was something warm there, but Remilia didn't want to think about that…
Instead, she pulled Flandre closer to her, knowing it would not help, feeling more of that same wetness on her cheek. "I know, Flan. I'm sorry." A single ray of the harvest moon's light fell over them for a moment, illuminating red, before that orb the color of blood was again hidden by clouds.
Flandre hugged her around the waist. "Can we leave this place soon, Remi?"
"Yes." She glanced at the heavy door, the bars in the one window among the stone walls. "Soon."
There was silence again, as though they were the only living souls in the world—if they still counted among the living. Remilia's impossibly keen hearing detected the slight pitter-patter of drops of liquid on the stone floor, then—a rustle as Flandre finally moved a second time—then nothing. Everything was still beneath the blood moon.
Then: "Remi, I feel strange."
She tried to sound reassuring, but despaired of succeeding. "I already told you, Flandre, we're not…"
"No, not that." A hint of fear was creeping back into the girl's voice. "Not what we are. But I feel strange. I feel like I, I…" Her voice caught. "Like I could do things. Strange things. Things like…" She raised her hand, and there was a sudden flash of light like flame that extinguished itself in an instant. Flandre didn't speak again, but Remilia heard her breathing quicken.
She did the only thing that occurred to her. She wrapped her arms around Flandre, kissed her, and let the girl's head rest against her shoulder. "I know," she murmured, and it was all she could think to say. "I know."
"If I can do that…magic…" Flandre's voice was a whisper brushing past Remilia's neck. "Can I do something that will get us out of this place?"
Remilia's hand at the back of Flandre's head involuntarily grasped her sister's hair. "You can't."
"What?" Flandre pulled back from her; searched for her older sister's face in the darkness. "Why not?"
The elder girl didn't answer.
"Did I do something bad?" asked Flandre, reaching out to touch what she couldn't see. Her fingers found the bridge of Remilia's nose, her cheekbones.
"No," Remilia whispered, and then she forced her hoarse voice to be stronger. "No. But you can't do anything like that right now."
"Okay," said Flandre, and she nestled herself back against her sister. She didn't ask why again. She didn't argue. She just trusted. Remilia pressed her lips to the top of Flandre's head, bidding herself not to shake, and tried desperately to think of where they could go, what she could possibly do to make this better. Something, anything, she could do to make it better for her dear Flandre.
Silence fell as thick as the shadow, and for a few minutes she thought her sister might have fallen asleep. But then the girl stirred again, running her hands over a strand of hair that had touched her cheek. "Hm?" Her fingers again came away wet. "Are you still crying, Remi?" Again she reached for her sister, but before Remilia could move or respond, Flandre froze. "Wait…" she said, twisting her own arm before her, feeling something wet covering it. "Why am I—"
She stood, and at that moment, the last cloud moved away from the fully round moon. As all its tinged light flooded the cell, Flandre looked at the bars bent away from the window, at the door ripped from its metal hinges, and finally down at her own skin covered in blood.
She screamed, and Remilia leapt to her feet, too. "No—Flan—" she tried, but the girl screamed again and again. "Flandre! Please! Let me explain—"
"No!" Flandre shrieked, clapping her hands to the sides of her head and sinking to her knees. Gradually, sobs began to shake her shoulders. "I k—k—I did—" She was staring at her blood-stained hands before her.
Remilia set herself. "Flan," she said as steadily as she could. "Look at me, Flan." It took a moment, but slowly Flandre looked up at her sister.
There she saw the same blood, but rather than covering her sister's skin in places, it seemed to paint it. Where Flandre had patches of the liquid, Remilia's hands were all but dyed red. Remilia walked forward into the light, and Flandre could see the blood spattered up and down her sister's dress. "You didn't kill anyone, Flan," she said, her voice broken. "I did."
"Wh-who?" whispered Flandre.
Remilia gazed hollowly at her. "Everyone."
It came just after Flandre had fallen into a fitful but deep sleep. A sudden surge of not just bloodlust, but of an inexplicable power within her that roared through her veins and gave her the strength to tear the heavy door from its frame as though it were paper. The first person she saw, a man in the hallway outside, she killed with a single blow before she had even really registered he was there. The others, she was more deliberate with.
She had stood atop the clocktower, blood dripping from her fanged mouth, her devil's wings spread, and felt the magic coursing through her. She raised her head and roared to the godless heavens, and to all the people in that town, so they would know she was coming for them.
Everything melted into a bloody rage until finally she was alone in a village of torn corpses and the charred remains of those caught in her magic.
Stumbling back was a blur, until finally she collapsed at Flandre's side and cried.
"Everyone," breathed Flandre, and Remilia felt her insides turn to ice as again the girl's eyes were lit crimson. "That's what I want to do, too. That's what it feels like I should—"
Remilia took two strides and hugged Flandre harder than she ever had in her life. Her arms brushed past the colorful gem-like pieces of the girl's wings, causing them to clink softly against one another. "I love you, Flandre." Her voice was muffled against her sister's body. "I love you."
"I know that's not good, either," said Flandre quietly after a moment had passed. "I'm sorry…" She hugged Remilia back. "I love you, too."
They stood there entwined in each other's arms, until Remilia felt the flame of black magic inside her sister subside.
As they parted, Flandre kissed Remilia on the corner of the mouth. "Remi, you're okay, aren't you?"
It was easy to force a smile if that meant reassuring the girl she cared for so much. "Yes, Flan."
"Good." Still gazing at Remilia, looking as if she didn't notice what she herself was doing, Flandre slowly raised one bloodied finger to her mouth and licked it once, twice.
"I won't do anything bad like that," she said.
Now the chill would not leave Remilia's spine.
"I promise," said Flandre, and smiled.
She raised another finger.