Work Text:
bonus
A Mother’s Rage (and Mourning)
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Istaroth screams.
The loop was broken. The loop was broken. The loop was broken. The loop was broken. The loop was broken. The loop was broken. The loop was broken. The loop was broken. The loop was broken. The loop was broken. The loop was broken. The loop was broken. The loop wasbroken. The loopwasbroken. Theloopwasbroken—
THE LOOP WAS BROKEN.
Barbatos is GONE.
“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” Istaroth roars to the beings below as she attacks. There’s the twin travelers, Morax, the other current Archons, as well as that human bard. “THEY WERE MY CHILD!”
“WE LOVED THEM TOO!” The blond star, Aether roars back in anger and distraught. Clashes of blades, elements, and powers began to merge as they continued to succumb to a battle of emotions and rage, “WE UNDERSTAND YOU!”
“YOU DON’T!” Istaroth howls, “YOU ARE MERELY THEIR LOVER ,” She glares at Morax, “THEIR FRIENDS,” She scowls at the multitude of others, especially the human bard, “AND THEIR NONSENSICAL CHILDREN WHO THEY KEEP ON PROTECTING!” She screams at the two blonde beings, “YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND ME!! BARBATOS WAS MY CHILD!” She wails, “I CREATED THEM! I HELD THEM! THEY WERE MY—!”
Istaroth gasps, stopping as she realises, “I. . .created them. . .”
‘Was it my fault?’ She cries, letting herself topple down, and she does not care to see who held her.
‘Was it my fault?’ Istaroth asks herself, sobbing, ‘That Barbatos is this way?’
That Barbatos is a loving, determined being?
“They were my child. . . !” Istaroth wails once more, and she sobbed loudly when she saw that the person who held her was the human bard, crying as well. He looks so much like my child—! “I held them—! They were my baby. . . !”
Istaroth, in her blurry vision, sees Morax bow. In Liyuen custom, it’s a bow of intense mourning, and she howls in pain, knowing that the god is crying as well, and the others soon follow in their own solitude. Joining their cries. A heart-shattering melody of tears and sobs echoing the domain.
“My baby did not deserve this. . . !” Istaroth bawls, feeling the blonde girl, Lumine, her granddaughter in other lifetimes, hold her, “My child did not deserve this!”
Istaroth hears her cries merging with Focalors, the crier she is, who loved Barbatos the moment they comforted her, with Buer, the little child who grew attached to Barbatos the second they met, with the Tsaritsa, who used to be Barbatos’s best friend, with Murata, who cherished Barbatos in her own way, and with Beelzebul, who finds comfort in them.
She hears her laments merge with Morax, whom Aether was holding while he wails as well. His sobs are loud, and painful, but nothing like hers.
Istaroth keens, she wants her child back. Give them back.
“Bring Barbatos back to me.” Istaroth whispers, crying, “Bring them back to me.”
Please.