by She's a Star
Disclaimer: Moulin Rouge? Mine? Yes, right.
Author's Note: This was inspired by the amazing fic Blackened Soul by Bohemian Storm. You all must read it.
This is set after the Duke leaves on opening night while he's walking off in the snow.
Enjoy. Or something.
I know that I am weak.
You may doubt me; you may laugh snidely or snicker to yourself. You know, of course. Everyone knows.
And still everyone doubts that I am aware of my own frailty, my own disgusting weakness.
Believe me, I know.
I can destroy you. I can destroy you all, and still you will laugh, and still you won't fear me. I can take this woman, this diamond, your star, and force her into a lifetime of solitude and misery.
Even she doubts me.
I do not understand her.
I do not know what I feel for her, and it's unnerving.
There have been other women before her. Don't look so incredulous; if you do not believe that most women are not lured in by the prospect of wealth and diamonds, then you are just as foolishly naive as that curséd writer. They have been nothing to me, and I don't believe I ever cared. I was not searching.
And then I met her, and she changed everything. She was beautiful, but that was not it, not really. I had seen beauty.
She was tainted, and tragic, yet still filled with foolish hope, and I saw so much of myself in her.
She hides it well, of course, that she could want anything more than this garish half-life. She effortlessly weaves the facades that have overpowered her: had I been the fool everyone takes me to be, I would have only seen the beautiful temptress with a penchant for diamonds and a hardened heart.
But then I wouldn't be here.
I wouldn't be drawn to her.
I do not know if I love her, and I know that she does not care for me. It is obvious that she is ridiculously smitten with that writer, and I pretend that she was not worth what I gave her, that she is nothing more than a cheap, amoral whore.
And yet I wanted her. I felt as though I knew her.
She is weak, and unlike him. He has a quiet strength, and she will realize soon enough that she can only destroy him.
They can never be together, and will instead spend forever apart.
Or maybe these are only the reflections of a bitter old man, broken and defeated, deaf to the world of thunderous applause that he's permanently left behind.
I could have had him killed. I could have had her in my arms forever. I had the power, the ability to destroy this ridiculousness, this 'perfect love' that will no doubt fade in time.
But I did not.
I left.
I am not as weak as you might think.