Y/n was pushed off to the side, and immediately told by childe to stay back. The average fatui did as he was told as he took cover underneath a table.
All the harbingers were immediately jumping into action and all y/n could do was watch from his safe spot.
And honestly,
He was more horrified of the harbingers than of the assassins. Because, as he watched them, he knew that there was no turning back. Blood splattered, bones were crushed, heads were lopped off. The cloaked assassins stood no chance against the fatui's strongest.
"Kill them all!"
"Don't back down!"
"Fight!"
"We have to win!"
The slaughter was evident. The winner was already decided.
And, truth be told, y/n wanted them to escape. He wanted them to escape death. But .. he also knew that he would be the one who had to go after them, and when he would fail to do so, then he would be the one facing the blades of the harbingers. And he doubted that Arlecchino would be able to protect him.
He moved farther under the table. His eyes darting around as the cool, marble floor started to turn red with color.
He tried to escape himself. Not physically though. No, he tried to escape into the depths of his mind. He didn't want to see this anymore.
Didn't want to be here.
Didn't want to be average and be put into this situation.
"Please make this stop. Why? Why did they even come here in the first place?"
He grabbed his hair and tucked himself by bringing his knees close to his chest. He tried his best to block out the sound of flesh tearing and screams filtering through the air.
It wasn't until a body landed in front of the table he was hiding under that he was forced back into the reality that was before him.
His eyes landing on the now unlocked figure before him.
He blinked once.
Twice.
A third time.
"M - Mikhail? Why? W - why are you here?"
Before him was the body of his older brother.
Getting onto his knees, he carefully crawled out from beneath the table. His hand reached out shakingly. His fingers, his lips, his heart. They all trembled the moment he placed a hand on Mikhail's cheek.
"Why?"
"Y - y/n? Is that- is that you?"
His eyes darted to see the paling face of his brother. He's still alive! He could still live! Yes! This all just has to be a misunderstanding-
"I'm sorry .. I thought .. I thought I could protect you."
"What- what are you talking about?"
Mikhail lifted a shaky hand towards y/n, to which y/n had hastily snatched with both of his own hands. His palms clamping tightly onto the fading strength of Mikhail.
"The day .. that Arlecchino showed up .. it was all .. set up from the beginning. The Doctor, he knew of you already. So he set this whole thing up. He wanted to .. create a sort of social experiment. It was- already well known that you were weak, y/n. Nothing could hide that. And Dottore thought that if Arlecchino, that bitch who ever so diligently trained you back then, made you her second in command ..., then he could find others just as weak as you are, so he could have more test subjects to use."
Mikhail winced, but he managed to gather enough strength to continue.
"Your whole life was set up y/n. Your weakness was planned from the beginning .. all to further Dottore gains in his research, to which .. the other harbingers agreed upon. Their reason .. always being for the greater good of Snezhnaya and the Tsaritsa," Mikhail spat blood, his eyes narrowing in anger as his voice broke and shook, "it was all a load of bullshit! Why do the weak have to die for others gain? It was all.. so unfair .."
Mikhail's breath started to slow, "I- I wanted to save you. If I couldn't save anyone else, then I at least wanted to save you. Dottore's plan, Pierro's orders, the other harbingers playing along to weed out the weakness within the fatui .. what was so wrong with wanting to save .. at least one person?"
"Mikhail, I-"
Y/n stopped himself when he felt his brother's hand go limp within his grasp. His eyes widened. His breath hitched. His heart kept skipping every other beat.
If only he wasn't a below average fatui.
Maybe then he could of changed this whole outcome.
He leaned down. His forehead pressing against his brother's chest. The smell of blood entered his nose. Filled his lungs. And stayed.
The harbingers will pay.
He closed his eyes for the final time.
And when he reopened them, things were bound to change.
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end.
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