AN: ***READ THIS BEFORE THE CHAPTER***

Sorry that this came so late (not as late as some of the chapters but still). I've been trying to rewrite this while also organizing other ideas for a new Tom/Harry story and, to be honest, this was a hard chapter to write. I didn't know how to go writing it, as it is the ending chapter and the shear length of it was daunting (it's literally two to three times the regular length), as I had decided that it would be the last chapter no matter the fact that I still had a lot planned out. Oh, by the way, this is the last chapter for this story. Congrats, you made it through this draft story! As is probably obvious, this story is not perfect and isn't edited in the least, but the edited version will be posted to AO3 and not . It should be under the same title and username if you're interested, but it shouldn't stray too far from the draft story, so you won't be missing anything. Probably. But again, thanks to all those that actually stayed through this. I really appreciate all of you and (almost) every review fills my heart with joy. Carry onwards.

Chapter 16

Chapter Warnings: mass murder, manipulation, this is not a happy ending

"A Wedding Worth a Thousand Lives"

-Year 566 of the Dark Order-

Amun (Matlal)

How did it end up like this?

Amun looked around the once pristine ballroom. The white marble walls and floors, the high ceilings with dangling crystal chandeliers, the linen-draped banquet tables lining the walls laden down with meats and cheeses and fruit and wine; all of it now dowsed in the crimson color of the late party goers.

Their corpses and dying bodies littered the floor. Heavy robes and lacey dresses, tuxes and shined shoes, all ruined and torn.

This isn't how this was suppose the end. So how did this happen?

-2 Days Prior-

-Rebel Movement's Underground Headquarters-

Reilly Everlest

Reilly didn't know what she expected from the boy. Because that's just what he was: a boy.

He couldn't be older than 16, maybe 17 tops, but Reilly knew he was older than that, and that was the unsettling part about it. Only one other person was known for being un-aging, and that was the Emperor.

The immortal, immoral Emperor.

Who was he exactly? The only thing they had on the kid was that he was born around the time the Dark Lord was first rising, before the Dark Order was established and during the end of the Unknown Times, and that he had "defeated" the Dark Lord once. The school book they had gotten their information from hadn't said much about the actual incident, but from what she could gather from it, the boy had been a child, a mere babe, when he had killed the Emperor. Who's to say he could do it again? Who's to say he even actually did it the first time? Wasn't the Emperor still alive? I mean, he was a toddler when the Emperor had been temporarily indisposed, the kid probably had little to do with the occurrence itself.

The thoughts kept whirling around and around in her head; the doubts, the fears, the unknowns. But Reilly knew that when it really came down to it, she had no real choice in the matter. She was desperate. They all were desperate. They were sick and tired of living under the thumb of that despicable tyrant and if some other immortal man came and said he could free them from the Emperor, then Reilly wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

But she had a feeling something was off about all this.

Why had the boy been in the castle? Why did the Emperor have portraits of him everywhere?

Reilly couldn't put her finger on it, but whatever it was, she felt like it could either be their downfall or their savior.

She desperately hoped it was the later.

-Rebel Movement's Underground Headquarters-

Hayden

Hayden's body felt like a sack of bricks.

His chest had a heavy, aching feel to it and there was a faint throbbing in his head that pressed against his eyelids and made it equally painfully for his eyes to be either opened or closed. He had known that it was a bad idea to let that shitty kid do whatever the fuck he did to him, but by the Emperor was the kid persuasive. Or maybe he was just that weak…

Hayden groaned as he tried to lift his head up off the thin pillow, only for him to cease trying when a shot of agony raced through his skull.

"Fucking shitty brat…"

The creaking of the door jolted him into an upright position, something he immediately regretted as the nausea took hold of him and he slumped back down.

"Fuck-" Hayden groaned out.

He lifted his head more slowly this time as he turned his attention to the door.

"Amun?"

The Matlal stood in the doorway, a look of both worry and exasperation mixed confusedly on his face; he appeared like he couldn't decide to be annoyed at the gardener or concerned at the other man's obvious difficulties.

Hayden's head flopped back down on the bed and he gave another pitiful moan. "Amun, get me something, please. Anything. Just make the pain stop."

A huff from the doorway was his only answer as the light tap of the mute's footsteps disappeared down the hallway.

The black man turned around in the small bed and burrowed himself further in the covers. That was the first and only time he allowed that teenage fuck anywhere near him.

Hayden allowed his thoughts to fester with hate for Potter as he waited for the Matlal's return.

Amun came silently back into the room this time. He closed the door gently and strode over to the bed quietly, placing his hand softly on the back facing him and allowing the bigger man to turn over. He handed the vials over and watched as they were quickly downed.

The Matlal's eyebrow rose as the gardener cursed out as the potions slowly took effect.

"Thank the Emperor, but that shit was terrible." Haden stuck his tongue out childishly and turned to the waiting man standing next to the bed. Amun's brow raised higher in question when he got the darker man's attention.

Hayden pulled his tongue back into his mouth and grinned sheepishly as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

"Thanks, Amun." Hayden sat up further, the blankets pooling at his waist as he eyed the Egyptian. "As much as I appreciate your help, why are you here?"

The shorter man sighed and sat down at the side of the bed, his notebook already pulled out, and his quill started flying across the page. Hayden leaned forward and peered over the other's shoulder.

"It's noon and Everlest has already introduced Potter to the permanent members. I was going to let you sleep, but new info has just come in. Apparently the entire harem was destroyed; the only survivor being our Lawnaut who was reporting in during the attack. Everlest has called a meeting."

Hayden glanced over the quick scrawl before leaning away and stretching his arms out, an explosive gush of air passed between his lips as he pushed the blankets further off and slung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Then I guess we better head out." The black man mused. He pulled out a set of pants and shirt from the dresser and went about pulling them over his body before he stopped and turned towards the other man.

Amun's head twirled towards the door when he was caught staring at the other dressing, he could practically feel the heat of Hayden's smirk on his back, but he refused to acknowledge him.

"Let's go, Amun."

-Rebel Movement's Underground Headquarters-

Akira Lawnaut

Akira was, for lack of better words, stunned.

When she had gone in to give her report, she had not expected to come back to the bloodshed and horrifying view of the people she had spent her last few years with lying torn and bloodied across the room. To say she was shocked was a major understatement. She had barely gotten ahold of herself enough to leave again; she could no longer stay there.

She felt horribly like what Jerald probably had been struggling with after the Emperor had tortured him. When she had gotten back to headquarters, she had sat in Everlest's office and waited, staring at the wall vacantly.

Her mind felt like it was both blank and on overdrive. The images of the other harem member's broken bodies played on repeat while she was forced to watch unwillingly to the own torment created by her mind.

Everlest had found her like that. Retelling what had happened was amazingly easy when one was in an out-of-body experience. She felt separated from the words that flowed out of her mouth, like they were told by somebody else about a different occurrence altogether.

Now, sitting in the meeting room, surrounded by people she technically worked with but had no real relationship with, the fracture of the two separate spheres she had been straddling, widened. The harem was where she had belonged. This place, these people, were not what should have been preserved. The harem was supposed to be the safe place; the place where she could rest and talk and live. So why was this place the one that survived?

'It's their fault.'

It wasn't fair. Why did they have to die? They had been innocent.

This wasn't right. She had put herself at risk because she had wanted to save them from the caged life they had lived, but now…

'Your fault.'

They shouldn't have been killed, whatever happened was undoubtedly her fault. She was the one who had betrayed the Emperor, so why had they been punished? They had done nothing!

'Whorish woman.'

The Emperor had found out that there was a spy and he had killed everyone. They had been punished for her wrongdoing. This all had been a mistake. If she had just stayed in the harem…

This was all-

'Your fault.'

-Rebel Movement's Underground Headquarters-

Amun (Matlal)

There was something off.

After both he and Everlest had compared the two different sides of the story, they were left with a hole. A large, gaping hole.

What had happened?

Everlest had thought that the Emperor had done it, but Amun had communicated to the best of is abilities that the Emperor had been just as shocked as they were that the harem had been destroyed.

Amun felt like he was missing something. He was almost certain that the Emperor had known who was at fault, but his mind had been too fuzzy that morning. He remembered the bodies, torn and chewed, the Emperor had spoken about something, but what was it..?

"Perhaps it was Jerald."

Amun, as long with the other 20 members at the table, turned towards Hostem.

"Why do you say that, Potter?" Hostem broke his eyes away from Lawnaut's own blankly staring ones to Everlest's.

"Well, he was mentally unstable wasn't he?"

"Yes, well, that's not a reasonable reason to accuse someone of systematically killing a group of people." Everlest said disapprovingly.

"It was just a thought." Hostem shrugged out and went back to staring at Lawnaut.

Amun wondered if the teen remembered seeing her when the Emperor took her back to his room. He was curious of what the teen had been aware of when he was in his comatose state. Had he known that the Emperor had done horrible things to people while his body rested at the bottom of the water-filled room? Had he been conscious for it? Or oblivious? What of when Jerald had taken him? Was he aware during that? Had he felt it when he-"you really shouldn't cry in front of me."

Amun winced as the fleeting voice flashed in his mind.

"Anyways, I'm sure it doesn't even matter." Amun looked back up to the Hostem, who was pushing his chair away from the table and standing up. "We should be more worried about our strategy to take down the Emperor than about a couple of dead whores."

Everlest slammed out of her chair as well and leaned forward, her hands against the table, as she scowled at the Hostem who had risen from the other side.

"Mr. Potter, I think I speak for everyone when I say that that was uncalled for-"

"And I think I speak for myself when I say I don't care." Everlest gaped at the teen in shock as he stared unwaveringly back at her. "My job is to destroy him, not care about every whore that gets gutted. In case you've forgotten, Miss Everlest, we are planning an attack in two days, so if you are going to continue contemplating that death of a few prostitutes, I'm going to go over our plan again."

Amun watched as the Hostem walked out of one of the doors before turning back towards Everlest, whose face was red and blotchy with indignation.

"Wonder if he's ever not a dick?" Amun gave a disapproving side-glance at Hayden, who raised his hands in surrender.

"Meeting dismissed." Amun looked back at Everlest as she sat back in her seat and turned towards the half-Japanese girl at her side.

"Hey, Amun," The Matlal looked to Hayden as he stood up from his chair and held up a pack of cigarettes. "I'm going to go smoke outside, wanna join?"

It really was just his face that was attractive.

Amun shook his head and waited till the black man left the room before standing up and going out the same door the Hostem had.

-Rebel Movement's Underground Headquarters-

Harry (Hostem)

It was infuriating.

Disgusting, stupid, ugly whore. How dare she survive?! It was an outrage! Despicable! Unthinkable!

Who did she think she was; staying alive after what he had gone through to ensure the death of that bastard's harem? To think there was still one of those worms crawling around, it disgusted him to his core.

Harry sat fuming in one of the chairs in front of the fire in the communal library. The knowledge that he would not be able to control her mind like he had Jerald's weighted heavy on his shoulders. He had had no contact with her, so he had no connection. He would have to find another way to kill her. To rid himself of the filth that Tom insisted on polluting the world with.

But it would have to wait for now.

There was one thing he knew for sure though: he would eliminate every person the Dark Lord had contaminated.

Everyone.

-Rebel Movement's Underground Headquarters-

Amun (Matlal)

Amun found himself standing in front of the Hostem.

The Hostem did have very pretty eyes. Green and gleaming. There was a shine in them that spoke of a willingness to fight at a moment's notice. A glimmer that told of a life prepared for battle.

But so young.

He couldn't have been older than Amun's 18 years. He didn't look like the kind of person that could save them. That could shoulder their burdens.

"Matlal…" Amun's attention focused back on the other teen in front of him.

The Hostem glanced to the seat opposite his own and Amun gave an answering nod before sitting down in it.

"I must say it is nice to have someone my own age here, all these adults make it so stuffy and boring, don't they?" Amun nodded cautiously at the grinning teen, not sure how to respond to his conversational tone and manner. It had been a long time since someone his own age had tried to talk to him, the closest being Hayden, but even then, Hayden was in his mid-twenties.

"But I must say, you are quite young to be a Matlal. I wonder what dearest Tommy was thinking?" Amun's brow furrowed at the name, but the other ignored it and continued speaking. "I must say that it is irresponsible of him to put such a weighted role on your shoulders. Matlal's are supposed to be at least be in their late twenties…" The Hostem trailed off as he regarded the other teen in front of him. "Who ever knows what that bastard is thinking? Definitely not me."

Amun felt faintly uncomfortable hearing someone talk about the Emperor that way.

Even if he was volunteering to help overthrow the Dark Lord, he still feared the man. The Emperor was someone to be afraid of. Someone to be looked at from a distance and even be in awe of. He was to be treated more as a ruthless god that could snap at any moment, a volcano that could explode and kill all of them then he was to be considered an actual person. And to go so far as to bad-mouth him? No one would even think of it.

Except, apparently, this boy. Who was he exactly?

His curiosity and confusion must have shown on his face, for the other teen suddenly laughed and leaned forward in his chair.

"I'm sorry, Matlal, it had escaped me that you are incapable of actually speaking." Amun felt a spiral of annoyance wiggle through him at the confession. "I'd offer to take off that little enchantment, but I'm afraid it's not time for that yet. You'll just have to put up with it for a little while longer."

Amun was taken aback. Could the Hostem really undo the Emperor's own charm? It seemed highly unlikely, but at this point everything about the other teen was a mystery, and for all he knew, the younger probably could.

"Speaking of the Matlal…you know it was me who came up with the idea right?" Amun's attention was once again focused on the smaller teen. "I told him that he needed a person who could stand in if he ever stepped down from his position. He of course was completely against such a role; he could never even fathom the idea of him not ruling his own Empire. We came to an agreement in the end, though. Tommy like to believe that he doesn't make compromises, but he does. That little Standlin proved as much with her little deal." Amun stared at the Hostem as the other trailed off. The name Standlin sounded familiar…wasn't that Armand Crabbe's birth name?

"But she matters little now, her family line is close to being wiped out anyways. It's a petty thing, but no one likes to be locked away, do they? She just made everything more troublesome, though I suppose it will only help us out in the end." Amun was starting to see the similarities between the Emperor and this boy. They both had the infuriating and condescending habit of talking to one like they were nothing more than a stuffed doll for a child to tell their school-born worries to. It didn't help that both also seemed to speak of things that flew well over Amun's head half the time.

"But that's beside the point, really. So, anyways, we agreed that a position would be appointed for a general-to-be, and in the case of an emergency of some sort, an Emperor-in-waiting. So when I kill Tommy, you're going to take his place."

…

…

…what?

"Don't worry, you may not think it, but you've been trained to take over. Maybe not explicitly and not outright, but you were. There are but three people that know Tom: me, you, and the previous Matlal. While it would probably be more beneficial to use your predecessor, I don't plan on letting her live." The words flowed sluggishly through his ears. He could hear them, but they were distant and clouded. The Hostem wanted him to be the Emperor? Him? An 18 year old Egyptian who was incapable of speaking and had been employed in the Emperor's care for 3 months tops.

Why?

"Because, for one, I believe in you." Amun was taken aback slightly, forgetting that he was in fact incapable of speech. They really were similar. "And for two…you're clean."

Amun looked back up at the other teen in confusion.

"Your predecessor broke. That's why he replaced her. He always replaces them after they brake. He thinks it makes his generals more ruthless." The words were spat out, the youthful face in front of him was twisted and full of disgust. "He soils everything he touches. Everything."

'Oh, you really shouldn't do that.'

Green eyes focused back onto dark brown. "But not you. He hasn't gotten to you yet. He hasn't dirtied you, but you still have seen his madness. His insanity. Experience, time wise, is useless. Time just gives more opportunities to destroy you in this profession. You, as you are now, are perfect."

'You really shouldn't cry in front of me.'

Amun's head pounded.

The Hostem stood up from his seat and took two steps forward, towards the Matlal. Leaning down, the younger boy put one hand on the taller boy's shoulder and the other gripped his chin.

"You have to go back for now. It will be hard, but Tommy doesn't like to think Matlal's would betray him. He wants to believe in them. He has to believe in them. Matlal's are supposed to be a part of him. His…human selves, even." Hostem tipped Matlal's chin back further. "I do not want to kill his human self. I want you to live. You don't have to do anything. I don't want you to do anything. I want you to live, and that is it."

Matlal stared up at the other teen. It was weird to see this face in front of him when he was used to seeing it on the walls. The Hostem was a painting. He was meant to be a painting. The fact that this creature had crawled out of his land of paint and canvas was surely a testament that the Emperor was too. This figure of paint had come into the human world to drag its other half back into its plane of existence and out of this realm.

"Matlal," Amun concentrated back onto the Hostem when the other placed both of his hands on his cheeks. "Hate him, Matlal. You are his human self and he's seeking out to destroy you. I can save you. Let me save you. All you have to do is go back to him and wait. I'll handle everything for you. After he is gone, you and you're boyfriend can create an Empire that is worthy."

The Hostem released his cheeks and stepped back.

"I need to go patch things up with Miss Everlest and continue planning out our attack. Our little conversation gave me an idea." The Hostem smiled down at Matlal before turning and exiting out the door they had entered earlier.

Amun sat in his seat, his thoughts racing through his mind.

'If I'm his human self, then what are you to him, Hostem?'

Amun looked back towards the door.

'What are you to him?'

Amun stared back into the fire before his face flared up with heat as he remembered the Hostem's last few parting words.

Hayden was not his fucking boyfriend!

-2 Days Later-

-Emperor's Castle-

Belva Crabbe

Belva sat in front of the vanity, the dress she wore was white and frilly. It was a beautiful thing, something her mother and sisters would have loved. But they were not here. No one was here. Not for her.

For all her bravado towards her own death, Belva was scared.

Petrified.

She was fourteen for Emperor's sakes! A child! A mere babe! She wasn't even recognized as a full member of the empire yet, yet here she sat brushing makeup on her face as she waited in a pool a frills and lace to be married to a man who was ancient and powerful and terrifying.

She wanted to die, yes. But that did not mean she wasn't scared. So when she saw the person reflected back at her from her mirror, Belva felt the dam break as the flood of emotions she had been trying to suppress since her fiancée- her love- had died, flowed forward out of her eyes and mouth.

Her painstakingly down makeup smeared and ran down her face as she pressed her hands against her mouth and eyes, trying to block out the man in the mirror as well as muffle her cries. It did little to calm them so one hand smeared the mascara from her lids across her cheek as she pressed down on her ear.

She stifled her own scream when a hand fell gently on her shoulder. The man neither pushing nor pulling her and just stood there and let her sob.

"The truest little Juliet, aren't you?" Belva pressed her hands harder against her face until the physical pain outweighed the emotional and the sobbing trailed off. She let her hands fall to her lap and stared ahead at the mirror in front of them, her eyes not straying to look at the man-no, the teen beside her.

"You remind me much of your great aunt; she was proud and regal yet felt no shame in her acts of fear. She could run away screaming yet refused to crawl back; always proud she was. Though I suppose in the end, her hatred and pride helped me. Tommy never thought to close in the passageway connecting the outside with the floor below him after it was blockaded in to create his little…aquarium. It made slipping into this wing of the castle so much easier without all those pesky guards to hide from. At least the woman was good for something. You know, she too, thought herself in love."

Belva sniffed as delicately as she could before reaching up and attempting to wipe the smudges of black clean from her face. "I am not in love with the Emperor as she was."

"No, I suppose not. It was the little German, was it not?" Belva's hand stilled in its process of cleaning its owner's face.

"And what do you know of him?"

The dark laugh that met her ear made her recoil, the hand on her shoulder hadn't budged during the entire conversation.

The teen leaned forward, his lips an inch from her ear.

"I know the Emperor had him killed."

Belva expected another batch of tears to well up, but she found that none came. It felt more like the pieces fell into place and clicked rather than the teen's words knocking them down.

She should have known.

Instead of grief, she felt a deep seated anger for the boy standing next to her.

"Why do you do this? Are you trying to punish me for my aunt's sins as you punished the rest of my family? If any she had that is. Who are you anyways? I know your face, I have seen it on the walls; but who are you?"

The teen eyed her shortly before pulling his hand away and standing straight beside her.

"I do not wish to kill you, Ms. Crabbe." He started before pausing. "Your family's death, I assure you was an accident. I do not like killing the innocent-"

"You do not look like you regret it." Belva cut him off.

The teen pulled back even more on himself, a flicker of surprise crossed over his face before it disappeared into a perplexed expression. He tilted his head briefly to side, eyeing her with a new curiosity before shaking his head quickly and standing straight.

"Your death, like theirs, is a necessary in bringing order back into this world."

"You contradict yourself, you said it was an accident yet tell me that it was needed." Belva turned away from the mirror in front of her to face the older boy.

"It is better they died the way they did then to be slaughtered like the rest of the Death Eaters!" The teen's face had twisted slightly out of its confusion and was bordering on anger at the unwanted truth at the other's words, his voice rose slightly as the thing he had been trying to ignore started to be pulled into the light. "Did you rather they die as a family or be hunted down?"

Belva's mouth fell open in indignation at the words and her cheeks grew hot and pink with righteous fury as the teen in front of her spoke of her late family as if they were mere animals.

"Slaughter?! Hunted?! Just admit it; you are just as bad as the Emperor, aren't you? You pretend to do things for the better of this 'world' but in actuality, you are just another dictator trying to control us!"

Any more words she had to say was cut off by the slosh of blood that bubbled in her throat and out her mouth. The two both stared at each other in shock as the red liquid dripped from her lips and onto the white dress.

Belva tipped forward and out of the chair to land on her knees, one hand raised to push at the slash in her throat as her life flowed thickly out of her. Her other hand reached out and grasped the teen's robes, her eyes staring accusingly yet triumphantly up into his own. They said, 'Look at what you did! Look! I was right, see? A monster is what you are. A monster that is no better than the Emperor!'

The teen ripped the fabric out of her grip and stumbled back, before turning and rushing out of the room.

Belva watched from the floor as her murderer ran out. She closed her eyes and slumped fully to the floor. As the world around her descended into a grey buzz in her ears, she thought of her family and didn't try to stop the bubble of relief and gratitude that burst through her. She was glad she would die here. Glad that she didn't have to marry her love's murderer, glad she didn't have to lose her innocence at 14.

Glad this nightmare was finally over.

-Side Room-

Matlal (Amun)

"Where is she?"

Amun could feel the tension in the air, the thick, heavy presence of the Emperor's magic laid on his shoulders like a lead coat.

He watched the older man pace in front of the door the led to the hallway while repeatedly looking back at the other door that led to the ballroom.

Amun had caught a glimpse of it while it was being prepared and it was decorated lavishly enough to get every Pureblood drooling.

"She should be here. Where is that damned girl?" The sounds of the Emperor's feet gliding across the floor stopped. "We're going to go find her, come on Matlal."

Amun focused back on the psychopath in front of him.

'Distract him for as long as you can, Matlal.' The Hostem's parting words floated back to him and Amun, for the first time, wondered on how he was actually supposed to do that. He sincerely hoped that the younger teen hadn't forgotten his muteness again.

Amun felt the trickle of panic spike through him as the Emperor took a step towards the door and he gave a whine to attract the elder's attention. The high pitched whimper that slipped between his lips brought more mortification than relief, though, and he was left standing with a deepening blush of horrified embarrassment when the Emperor turned to look at him.

The look of confused curiosity that the Dark Lord gave him morphed into a voracious grin and his attention was successfully distracted from the problems of his missing bride. Matlal wondered how long he had to keep the other's attention, as the Hostem hadn't actually given him a time to go by, and he wondered how he was supposed to keep the Emperor's attention. The older man was already of a fickle temperament and trying to captivate that attention was something few to none could do-

"I much prefer crying to blushing, you know." Matlal was snapped out of his daze by the voice that came not but a few inches from his face. He really needed to stop being so unaware of his surroundings. "It makes for interesting relations, but unfortunately not long lasting ones."

The Emperor's expression had at some point during Matlal's inner dialogue shifted back into light curiosity rather than hunger and he was watching the young man's face closely.

"You hardly even look like him, it's a wonder that I ever confused you two." Matlal's brow creased at the words, not quite understanding what the other was saying, not that he ever really did, but still. "I know I can get bad, but actually thinking you were him? It's unthinkable."

Matlal held still when the Emperor's hands came up to hold his face, a few simple tweaks of the older man's wrists twisting and turning Amun's entire head.

"It is truly unfortunate that I spoiled you. It'll be disappointing to see you go." The Emperor dropped his hands and took a step back, his eyes still wondering over Amun's frame as if he could find something there that had been hidden in his face.

Matlal was, for the most part, confused. This was of course a normal occurrence for him, but this felt different. The Emperor appeared to be in one of his more sane states, but his words still sounded like they belonged to the wide-eyed fanatic of a creature he usually was.

"Do you want to know what you'll be killed for, Matlal?"

…killed for?

Matlal stumbled a step back away from the taller man before stopping when he noticed that the Emperor had made no move towards him.

"I suppose it is only fair for you to know the…crime you'll be punished for."

Matlal desperately wanted to be able to speak. To be able to question what the other was saying.

"But before that, we need to check on my bride." And with that, the Emperor was out the door and gone.

Amun stood still for a couple of seconds, trying to digest what exactly just occurred, before he too rushed out the door in the wake of his unhinged leader.

-Hallway-

Harry (Hostem)

Harry collapsed in the nearest alcove away from the room, his legs having been unable to carry him much further as they trembled and quaked.

The bloodied knife clattered out of his hands and onto the floor to his side. He tilted his head back against the stone walls and tried to breath calmly before glancing at the weapon at his side.

He quickly looked away and closed his eyes.

He had only meant to stab her in the back; to be done with it quickly and efficiently. But he had made the mistake of speaking with the young girl.

And she had made him pay.

The thoughts that he had been trying to keep at bay, been suppressing with thoughts of punishing his wayward lover, had surfaced.

He was a monster.

Everything his teenage self had despised in Voldemort was what he had become.

A senseless murderer who saw others as nothing more than tools.

Was this who h really was now?

Was he really okay with killing innocent people for his own personal gain?

The answer came shockingly easy.

He was.

The shock he felt at the young girl's words were more from his past learned behavior than his actual thoughts. He didn't mind killing these people. They weren't his family. His friends. They might as well not have been people at all really; they were just Tom's toys.

Tom's toys that had stolen his lover from him.

Tom cared only for his Empire. Tom didn't love him. It was the Empire's fault.

The decision finalized in his mind: This Empire must be eradicated.

Completely.

-Belva's Chambers-

Amun (Matlal)

Amun stood in the doorway to what once was Belva Crabbe's room.

The Emperor's back faced him, the body of the fourteen year old lying at the Dark Lord's feet.

This was the end wasn't it?

This is where all the carefully constructed walls of this frightfully fragile society finally collapsed. It had to be.

This is where the two sides actually diverged. Where the two halves of both of their plans intersected and then veered away from each other.

"No! No, please, you were my last hope!"

For the first time, Amun understood the importance of the Crabbe girl as he watched the Emperor fall to his knees in front of her corpse. As he watched the older man lift her up gently to stare at the gash in her throat. The utter defeat that radiated from his bent back. The same one that ordered the death of a young boy so that he could marry the contract-less fiancée? Was this the same man that raped and slaughtered that girl's younger brother?

It was hardly believable.

"Why?" Amun looked back towards the Emperor. "Why do you let me get so close then destroy everything? Just let me touch you, Harry."

"Why don't you just ask me instead of going through all of this shit that you know is just going to piss me off more?"

Matlal felt his blood freeze at the voice coming from behind him. He stayed frozen as the Emperor's back slowly straightened and he turned towards them both.

"Harry." The second voice might as well have been alien to him. Its hushed awe sounded foreign and wrong on the terrifying and destructive Dark Lord's tongue.

"Tom." Though less amazed-sounding, the tone was gentle and affectionate. Something that felt just as wrong being used towards the Emperor.

The worst part was the expression on the Dark Lord's face. It was a mixture of amazement and bliss. The Emperor's eyes raked over what Amun new was the Hostem behind him. The light beam on his face was discontenting at the least and down-right just plain wrong.

But, just as Amun was coming to expect from the older man, his expression turned a full 180 and his eyes darkened and the smile on his face replaced by a sneer just as quickly as they had appeared.

"You utter piece of shit." The Emperor stood up, the body of the girl rolling unnoticed out of his grasp to slam into the floor. "How dare you leave me and wreak havoc in my kingdom."

A scoff came from behind Matlal's back but he didn't dare move for fear of drawing attention to himself.

"Oh please, Tommy, if anyone's at fault here, it's you."

The snarl that passed through the Emperor's lips would have matched more with a beast then the tall, well-groomed- though slightly bloodied- man. The Dark Lord took a lunge forwards before he stopped at the words that came next.

"Wait! I'll make you a deal, Tom."

The Emperor looked skeptical, though he straightened from his planned attack.

"What kind of deal?"

The laugh that flowed from behind him was chilling and Amun struggled to continue standing frozen. A flinched when a hand reached out and landed on his shoulder.

"If you can find me and catch me, I'll release it." The teen didn't specify what it was, but it seemed like the Emperor understood because his eyes widened and he nodded quickly.

"What are the rules?" Amun felt his brow crease for the second time that day. Were they really about to play a fucking game? This was war, yet they both were treating it like it was nothing but an in-depth rpg.

"You give me a 5 minute head start and I'll hide in the Ballroom."

The Ballroom.

The center of the Rebellion's plan of attack.

The boy was leading the Emperor right into his fucking trap.

The Emperor's eyes narrowed.

Well fuck. Of course he'd be cautious. The boy just offered for them to play a game of hide-and-seek in a crowded Ballroom that was set up to be the wedding celebration of the Emperor and the now dead Crabbe girl.

"Fine." Okay, maybe not that cautious.

"Good." Amun could practically hear the smile in that voice as the previously forgotten hand on his shoulder yanked him backwards.

Lips pressed against his own and the immediate feeling of a draining sensation bloomed inside of his chest. Before he could fully react, his world went black.

-hours later-

-Ballroom-

Amun (Matlal)

This isn't how this was suppose the end. So how did this happen?

The bodies strewn about were being repeatedly joined with fresh ones as both the Emperor's and Rebel people were being flung about by what could only be the dark, repressing magic or the Emperor.

When Amun had woken up, alone, in Belva's room, he had, truthfully, almost decided to stay put and just wait for whoever won to find him and do what they pleased with him. But after a very brief debate with himself, Amun decided that that was an awful idea and had stumbled up and out the room.

The hallways were scorched and in some places the fire continued to burn hotly. It seemed that the Hostem had continued his pyromaniac ways even when just traveling to a different area to fight.

Amun had followed the fire back to the Ballroom before pausing in front of the door. His magic was terribly depleted and he didn't even know how much time had passed since he had fallen unconscious, but he still needed to be there. To witness what would become of his future.

Would the Rebel's actually win and the Hostem grant him control over the Empire- because holy fuck- and the Emperor and his terrible reign defeated? Or would the Emperor's troops win and Hostem be tried and convicted of treason?

It can go without saying that Amun had not expected to open the door and see a complete and utter massacre.

The Emperor seemed to have no care if the people he was destroying were his own men or not. He was tearing through all of them, briefly checking each one for signs of the Hostem before throwing them away and allowing his stray magic to rip them apart.

There were less than 10 people now out of the hundreds that had shown up to the massive ballroom for the wedding of their ruler. It would take him minutes to destroy them all, but where was the Hostem?

"Matlal." The whisper in his ear made him jump and he was only just barely able to hold in his gasp if surprise. He turned to his right to look at the other teen. They were both standing in the doorway and watching as the Emperor shredded the people around him in a ravaged fury.

'Why' Amun wanted to ask. 'Why are you letting this happen?' The teen ignored his silent questions this time instead of answering them as both he and the Dark Lord had habits of doing.

The sudden silence that descended on the cavernous Ballroom drew his attention back.

There were no more people left and the Emperor was facing towards them. His chest rising and falling and the barely recognizable pink of exertion on his face covered by blood and stray body pieces.

"You promised." The words were mangled by the heavy, ragged breath the tall man was letting out. "Release it."

Matlal felt like he was missing something. He didn't know if the knockout had messed with his head, but he was pretty sure that murdering the entire congressional was not part of the deal.

The Hostem stepped forward and from the corner of his eye, Amun could see the smile that was spread across the teen's face. The younger boy continued walking towards the taller man until they were less than a foot from each other.

"It's gone."

The Emperor looked unsure as he reached his hand out and gently placed it on the Hostem's face. Whatever he had expected to happen, didn't, and he let out a breath of air and collapsed to his knees in front if the teen.

The Dark Lord's arms wrapped around the teen's waist and he buried his head into the younger's stomach.

"Don't ever do that again. Don't ever leave me like that again, Harry." The words floated to Matlal faint and muffled by the fabric they had to pass through.

This display had to be ten times as unsettling as the one he had witnessed before had been. He didn't exactly understand what was happening still. He was stilled confused and horrified and terrified by what was happening.

"I won't." The reply came. The Hostem had wrapped his arms around the kneeling man and his fingers ran gently through the old man's hair. "If you promise not to do stupid things for idiotic mortals again, I promise to never leave you."

Matlal looked away from the scene. He was tired still. And drained. His limbs felt heavy and his vision was going bleary, but he could still see the partial body a ways off from his position. The dark skin caught his eye and he focused on it.

'I guess I am alone now.' He thought, staring at the ruined body of Hayden. 'I guess I'm stuck at the mercy of two psychopaths for the rest of my existence.'

Amun fell down as his legs gave out. He felt dizzy and nauseous but he didn't look away from the body of his once-crush.

Finally the dam broke and a rush of tears, something reminding of a time he couldn't quite remember and didn't quite want to remember, and he fell forward and let the reality of the situation set in.

This is the end.

"I love you. Harry."

"Don't lie."

"I love you."

"Don't lie to me, Tom."

"Only you. Only for you. I love you."

"…I understand."

Amun cried harder.