The last part of Blood like sunlight, my music-inspired oneshots series for PT. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed for sticking with me and being so patient and kind.


Song: Canvas

Artist: Imogen Heap

Album: Ellipse

Focus: Mytho/Rue

Scenario: In-series soliloquy

Rating: PG (K+)

Warnings: Slight language, creepy imagery

Notes: For My reasons for defying reason, I wanted to write a oneshot with Rue as a midwife hanged for witchcraft and Mytho as her angel. This is an in-series examination of the religion metaphor.

For all the other songs, I tried to go against what sprang to mind immediately. But, for me, Canvas was nothing if not Mytho/Rue. So here's a short, introspective ending piece. Will it be a happy story, a sad story, or maybe…? Well, um, it's one of my fanfics, it's going to be uber-depressing. Duh.


To hold you up and keep you taut

I wanted every second of you, once, every empty stare and mumbled half-thought. I wanted your hollow chest against mine, feel the contours of every rib but nothing under them. I wanted to cover every inch of you with my fingers, press, if only because you couldn't feel it.

I never wanted you to want me. I was always lying to myself. You were a temple, and no one else could worship, but if the statue had descended from its pillar to bow before me, it would no longer be holy.

Still, I tended your altar, offered myself up each night. It wasn't a sacrifice, you shouldn't have mistaken it for one.

I have been a sacrilegious priestess, to twist your words and take your values and sell them to my people as an item at the market. I mistook politics for religion. But I always loved you. Even as I poisoned you, I loved you.

I am a wretch. The kingdom of heaven is for people others die for. When I turned to the occult and used your message to rule your subjects, I forsook myself.

I wanted nothing more or less than you. I deserved nothing more or less than the angel's fall. Sorceresses come from somewhere, haven't you heard? The woods spit out monsters every so often. They never tell you where these monsters come from, but they are always very old, and they will always trick you and bring you down.

Fairytales are nothing more than warnings. Beware of strange women with bargains. Never give yourself over to them and let them smother you.

Strong women are for rocks and fire. Women who need things are witches. You aren't supposed to break them, just kill them. Why do you let me hunt myself?

I wish I could stop dancing.

But the expanse is gray and forever, and strains of music force me to my feet. My arms are wings, and they try to leave my body, to fly out of here. Is it wrong, that after everything, I still want to come and cower before you?

Yes.

You aren't a prince. A prince leaves after he kills the monster. Gallops off into the sunset to take on another.

What's terrifying is, I don't know what you are instead.

I didn't give you myself. I don't have anything to give. I am a priestess, and you are a religion, trying to scare me into living by your laws. Still something in your completeness promises that maybe my sins will slip away from me, in another life, in death, in darkness and skeletons.

I thought my love would be enough to damn me. I'm still dancing. Please take me. I tried to take everything from you, claim me now.

God, you have to let me burn for you. Amen.