Pretty traitors.
That was my first thought when I saw you too take arms against one another. Supposedly in my honor, but I'm convinced that it was avarice and bitter jealousy that prompted you to spear each other through the hearts, rather than righteous anger. Yes. You two were selfish. So heartbreakingly, infuriatingly selfish that it made me want to weep and wish to scream. In that moment, I felt such a flare of hatred that I had never before experienced.
Pretty traitors.
I realize now that it was me who was the selfish one. I cared more about my plans and sweet-natured schemes then I did either one of you, though I had told myself time and time again that it was in our benefit. So we could live and love together. And so when I saw you both- not comforting one another, or drying each other's tears- but clutching swords with white-knuckles hands that should have moved towards one another with love, rather than hate, I snapped right in two.
Pretty traitors.
Dark hair gleaming in the sun that soon neither one of you would be able to taste without hurting, eyes shining with a bloodlust that went beyond simple need. It was the hunger for vengeance. For pain. Lips curled up into snarls and smiles filled with anticipatory violence and malice. Pale, unnaturally fair skin dripping with the red of spilt blood.
Pretty traitors.
That was when I went dark. It was that one thought. It wasn't a long, slow descent into evil. It was instantaneous and sudden. Fueled by you two, my pretty lovers.
Pretty traitors.