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Iris knows of blood, unfortunately. He knows of its warmth, its metallic taste, its maroon shade, its consistency and viscosity. The ties that it creates between people. Killers, mercenaries, bounty hunters, spawncampers, but also family, ancestors, relatives and mothers.
He supposes that he owes it to those ties, the ones connecting him to his monster of a mother, to find the stomach for it. After all, it was her who shaped and moulded him, to make him take after her. She took away his decisions from him all of his life, so Iris thinks that it's time he repays that in kind.
He's tried before, you see. He's tried his best to be the person she wants him to be, and despite it all he has tried to stay gentle. He knows now that he was being naive. It is this weakness, this blood tie with her, that he must destroy. Because if he does, he will not have to feel this way anymore. He will not have to constantly be on the lookout for threats, he will not have his thoughts plagued by what he did to her, he will finally be free. He wants to be free, he deserves it.
And he will get it.
When Iris returns to the Tower, it is on his own terms, not hers. He makes sure to be as quiet as possible as he tiptoes into her bedroom, being careful to not wake her. Once a place that protected him from getting hurt, he now sees it for what it is: a gloomy prison. He notices his clenched jaw. No use delaying the inevitable.
Iris holds his breath as he towers over his mother's sleeping figure. Even in her sleep, she is despicable. Thrashing around, sweat building up on the forehead, quick and shallows breaths. All of which are signs of a nightmare. Ironic. He stares at the dagger in his hand, one that he "borrowed" from Lillium.
Just one thrust. One thrust and he would be free of thinking about her, of fearing her. He gently sits at her side. Tears welling in his eyes, he covers Madam's mouth with one hand as he stabs through her heart with the other. He takes the dagger back almost immediately, unwilling to let her take yet another thing away from him.
As the dagger comes back out, she gasps. It sounds like music to his ears. Surprisingly she doesn't fight back, as if she had expected this to eventually happen. She instead tries to reach a weak hand towards his face. Iris swats it away as if burnt, but Madam doesn't give up. She brings her other hand up and cups his cheek with her hand. His breath hitches in his throat. Another ploy at getting his sympathy.
"Hello, dear." Her sheets had started to get stained.
He immediately starts to feel nauseous. He peels her hand off of him.
"You don't get to call me that."
She starts to laugh uncontrollably. "I'm still your mother, you know. No matter what you think of me."
Iris finds his dagger lobbed right under Madam's collarbone before he can even form a thought. Blood sputters out of her mouth, covering her perfectly white teeth. Blood stains her white night robe, and his image of a perfect family. Her laughter does not subside, it becomes louder, despite the halo of blood forming around her. He feels bile coming up, and forces it back down.
"I'm proud of you. You've finally done it," she mutters out while the blood builds up in her throat. Upon hearing this, Iris feels some of his resolve crumble away. He breaks out of it, and shakes his mother by her shoulders.
"What? Done what? What reason would you ever have to be proud of me?!" Iris' voice comes out shaky as his vision gets clouded by his tears. Madam's laughter gets interrupted.
"Because you're carrying on our family's traditions. You've killed me. You've now become a true Iris."
When he hears those words, Iris forgets everything. He forgets about who she is, because he needs to save her. He cannot let her. He cannot let this be. His eyes search around the room for a pen, a piece of paper, anything. But it is too late. It doesn't take long for him to see the stillness in her eyes, the coldness in her hands, her quiet. Not even a Rose could fix what he has done. Her blood is on his hands.
"No! NO! You can't do this to me! Come back!"
As Iris puts his cheek onto her chest, his sobs become louder. Even in her death, she made Iris do her bidding. She made sure that he had no one to turn to, no one to call his own, his family. In his effort to destroy the monster, he had become one. The type of monster who never apologised, who had the same moral disorder, who only sought its own gain. No matter how hard he tried, it would be her blood that he would bleed.
After all, he is his mother's son.