The Moon and The Sun (MoonKnightxReader)

Reaper

[A/N: Hey, my readers! Here is the next installment for you all! I will be uploading another chapter today, which won't necessarily be heavy-plot related, but will be a memory/recap, about a certain test, in a certain hotel room, with certain pillows, and a certain man (or two). Anyways, enjoy, my lovelies! -K🖤]

[🌙This chapter contains swearing and extreme angst.🌙]
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Arthur Harrow clicked his tongue and breathed deeply, almost as if being in this position and predicament was relaxing.

His leg freely dangled over the chasm, swinging aimlessly and to no avail. He was scrutinizing the crocodillic heads of the cane that he faithfully brought with him everywhere, rotating the cane to examine the smallest of details.

"Take a seat, High Priestess. Let's talk." He smoothly spoke, attempting to calm down my already sour and resentment-filled mood.

I scoffed and set my jaw tightly. "No. I'll stand. And stop calling me that." I threatened, hating the way that he effortlessly tossed the word towards me, not realizing the burden and trauma that it carried.

He tilted his head in confusion and his eyebrows knit together in concern. "What? You don't like the title? It's quite honorable."

"It isn't. Not for me. I never was a priestess, nor ever wanted to be. That was my father's dream, not mine." I briskly stated, crossing my arms over my chest.

Arthur hummed, pondering what I had spoke. "Right. You didn't want that, did you?" He observed me, expecting me to respond with a concreate answer. I wasn't going to instigate nor enable him to torture me further.

I stayed silent in return.

"You wanted him. You desired him." His head tilted in the opposite direction and he squinted as if he was seeing right through me and reading my soul. "You still do. He's your husband after all, right?"

Arthur stared at me, unashamed and directly. I felt like I was being interrogated, but to what end?

"Have you considered that maybe you're cursed for a reason?" He inquired, which immediately set my hands ablaze. "Now we're getting somewhere."

The flames from my hands were the only light source in the shadowed chamber, eerily illuminating both Harrow and myself, and creating phantom images that danced along the rocky wall. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Do I?" He questioned, thoroughly unbothered. "Have you considered that maybe it's for the best that you're cursed?" He rested his cane in his lap, patiently waiting for an answer. "Perhaps...both of you are better without the other."

"No." I immediately responded, taking a brave step towards him, my feet just inches from the edge of the chasm. How could he even consider that?

Never had I even pondered the thought.

"Poor (Y/N). You're so far in, you can't see it for what it really is." He chided, an attempt to offer comfort and rationality. "You're aware, aren't you? That you're self-destructive? That you destroy everything you touch?"

His words weighed heavily on me, crushing and manipulating my heart, causing it to break. "I...I'm doing better. I don't mean to destroy-"

"Let's be honest." He interrupted my explanation on my behalf. "You're losing control. Look at yourself, dear." He motioned to my arms, which were now elbow-deep in a scorching inferno.

He was right. I was losing control.

"Have you thought what that's doing to Marc? Or what about Steven?"

"Keep my husband's name out of your fucking mouth." I warned with deathly intention, glaring murderously into his own strong-willed eyes.

"Hm. They're your weakness, right?" He continued, knocking the end of the cane against the rock below him, causing an echoing thud to travel around the chamber. "You're harming them. Marc already has significant mental health issues, (Y/N). Your devolution is causing him to spiral faster."