Notes: This is the sister fic to "Blackened Soul". I know this was done quickly after that fic, but I already had this half written and it's fairly short. If you can't figure out whose p-o-v 'Blackened Soul' was written in, this will tell you. :)
At What Cost?
The night is more black than I have ever seen it before. Even the stars are hiding, fearful of my wrath. The lights of the Moulin Rouge are dark, the entire brothel in a state of mourning. They mourn for my lost love, they mourn for Satine. They mourn a sister, a daughter, a friend and I was left alone. They have each other for comfort and I am cold and isolated.
It is raining, the streets of Montmartre are slick with water. I try not to fall as I stumble into the street from the hotel, my fists clenched and taut at my sides. My mouth is set in a hard, grim line and my tears have dried on my face. Now is not the time to cry, I can cry again when my work is done, but not until then. I refuse to cry until justice has been served and I will not rest until I brought it down upon him.
I search the dark street for some kind of weapon. I find nothing, not even a stick or bar I can use on him. I am not very strong, I know that and I fear my anger will not be enough to overpower him.
I have had to wait many days for this. Someone has been sitting outside of my room, their back against my door. Toulouse? Satie? The Argentinean? I do not know and for the moment, I do not care. All I see is the Duke, his sickening smile dancing before my eyes. He is my mission of the moment. I need to finish the fight he started and I need it tonight.
For so long I have wondered if it would be right. Do I have the liberty to seek revenge on a man? Is it my place to condemn him? These thoughts have wandered through my brain, day and night, making it impossible to sleep. I did not know who to ask. Who could I ask? This is a question of life and death and I do not know a single person qualified to answer.
She came to me in the haze of absinthe, telling me that my wish for revenge was a beautiful thing. She described to me all the ways I could end the Duke's life, using great detail. She is a bloodthirsty thing, the fairy is, but I listened to her. I laugh, I hope to tell the Duke before he dies that his fate was decided by a tiny, green hallucination. I wonder what he will think of that?
The Gothic tower rises high above me from where I stand in the street and I pause in the rain, staring up at it. I see the balcony on which he held my Satine, kissing her neck until she told him not to. He hurt her that night and I will never forgive him for that on top of many other things. He has destroyed all I believe in and in turn, I will rip him to shreds.
I am determined to end this tonight and I push the door of the tower open, staring at the dark, brick walls. The building is dank and menacing, a cage for a woman like Satine yet the Duke had wanted to keep her there. Her brilliance could have turned this place into a beautiful building, but he wanted to hold her there against her will. He had wanted to keep her in a cage and I had wanted nothing more than to set her free.
I heard a noise somewhere in the building and I follow it upward. Someone is in the highest peak of the tower, most likely the Duke. I assume he will be eating, probably alone and I will take him by surprise.
My footfalls are soundless on the stairs and I see a sliver of light where the open door leans into the room. There is a whispering sound, like a dying man making a final promise and I frown. The Duke should be alone. That was my plan.
I enter the room and watch in horror. The Duke is indeed whispering promises. He promises money and women, promises a new and beautiful life for me. He promises many things to the man holding his throat, but the Argentinean does not listen. He struggles in the strong grasp and tries a final tactic to save his life. It does not matter. If the Argentinean does not kill him, I will. I want to kill him. I would prefer if the Argentinean freed his soul from his mess.
He whispers a promise of a new love for me. I stiffen, my heart slamming against my chest. A new love? Could he possibly be serious? Is he truly insane?
I see rage flare up in the Argentinean and he twists his hands, snapping the neck of the Duke. My hand flies to my mouth and I watch the Argentinean step away, letting the corpse fall roughly to the stone floor.
"Oh no." I whisper, staring at my friend.
The Argentinean turns to me, fear evident on his face. He relaxes visibly when he sees me, but my horror remains. I tremble with fear for my friend. He has sacrificed himself for my cause, my mission.
"Oh no." I whisper again. "What have you done?"
His eyes tell me the answer, but he does not speak. He thinks he has done something for the good of the world, but I am terrified. In killing this man, he has delivered himself into evil. I know this, because I can see he enjoyed it. He had killed the Duke, but at what cost?
At What Cost?
The night is more black than I have ever seen it before. Even the stars are hiding, fearful of my wrath. The lights of the Moulin Rouge are dark, the entire brothel in a state of mourning. They mourn for my lost love, they mourn for Satine. They mourn a sister, a daughter, a friend and I was left alone. They have each other for comfort and I am cold and isolated.
It is raining, the streets of Montmartre are slick with water. I try not to fall as I stumble into the street from the hotel, my fists clenched and taut at my sides. My mouth is set in a hard, grim line and my tears have dried on my face. Now is not the time to cry, I can cry again when my work is done, but not until then. I refuse to cry until justice has been served and I will not rest until I brought it down upon him.
I search the dark street for some kind of weapon. I find nothing, not even a stick or bar I can use on him. I am not very strong, I know that and I fear my anger will not be enough to overpower him.
I have had to wait many days for this. Someone has been sitting outside of my room, their back against my door. Toulouse? Satie? The Argentinean? I do not know and for the moment, I do not care. All I see is the Duke, his sickening smile dancing before my eyes. He is my mission of the moment. I need to finish the fight he started and I need it tonight.
For so long I have wondered if it would be right. Do I have the liberty to seek revenge on a man? Is it my place to condemn him? These thoughts have wandered through my brain, day and night, making it impossible to sleep. I did not know who to ask. Who could I ask? This is a question of life and death and I do not know a single person qualified to answer.
She came to me in the haze of absinthe, telling me that my wish for revenge was a beautiful thing. She described to me all the ways I could end the Duke's life, using great detail. She is a bloodthirsty thing, the fairy is, but I listened to her. I laugh, I hope to tell the Duke before he dies that his fate was decided by a tiny, green hallucination. I wonder what he will think of that?
The Gothic tower rises high above me from where I stand in the street and I pause in the rain, staring up at it. I see the balcony on which he held my Satine, kissing her neck until she told him not to. He hurt her that night and I will never forgive him for that on top of many other things. He has destroyed all I believe in and in turn, I will rip him to shreds.
I am determined to end this tonight and I push the door of the tower open, staring at the dark, brick walls. The building is dank and menacing, a cage for a woman like Satine yet the Duke had wanted to keep her there. Her brilliance could have turned this place into a beautiful building, but he wanted to hold her there against her will. He had wanted to keep her in a cage and I had wanted nothing more than to set her free.
I heard a noise somewhere in the building and I follow it upward. Someone is in the highest peak of the tower, most likely the Duke. I assume he will be eating, probably alone and I will take him by surprise.
My footfalls are soundless on the stairs and I see a sliver of light where the open door leans into the room. There is a whispering sound, like a dying man making a final promise and I frown. The Duke should be alone. That was my plan.
I enter the room and watch in horror. The Duke is indeed whispering promises. He promises money and women, promises a new and beautiful life for me. He promises many things to the man holding his throat, but the Argentinean does not listen. He struggles in the strong grasp and tries a final tactic to save his life. It does not matter. If the Argentinean does not kill him, I will. I want to kill him. I would prefer if the Argentinean freed his soul from his mess.
He whispers a promise of a new love for me. I stiffen, my heart slamming against my chest. A new love? Could he possibly be serious? Is he truly insane?
I see rage flare up in the Argentinean and he twists his hands, snapping the neck of the Duke. My hand flies to my mouth and I watch the Argentinean step away, letting the corpse fall roughly to the stone floor.
"Oh no." I whisper, staring at my friend.
The Argentinean turns to me, fear evident on his face. He relaxes visibly when he sees me, but my horror remains. I tremble with fear for my friend. He has sacrificed himself for my cause, my mission.
"Oh no." I whisper again. "What have you done?"
His eyes tell me the answer, but he does not speak. He thinks he has done something for the good of the world, but I am terrified. In killing this man, he has delivered himself into evil. I know this, because I can see he enjoyed it. He had killed the Duke, but at what cost?