Title: Lavar
Fandom: Trigun (1998)
Rating: Mature
Relationships: Vash the Stampede/Millions Knives
Characters: Vash the Stampede, Millions Knives
Length: 359 Words
Summary: Knives desperately wants to give Vash the privileged of being a mother, and he's deaf to his beloved brothers cries.
Content notes: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Gore, Depictions of Childbirth
Author's Note: Written for the TRAIN prompt, with some touches of the TWIST prompt.


Vash sits in a corner of a dark room, a pool of his own blood leaking from his womb and all over the floor. Knives is outside digging a shallow grave. His arms move back and forth steadily with each thrust of the shovel into the dirt, the crunching of the soil being tossed aside growing louder as Vash opens the window fully and dares himself to peek outside. His brother's arms are still slick and red, clots of blood and skin sticking to them. The sparking pain in his pelvis rages again, and Vash falls to the floor clutching his abdomen.

Knives looked to his left where the congealing mass of their children laid. Their sons and daughters twisted together in a sulking pile of vines and rotting flesh, tendrils twisting from their waists to connect to the others. The failed children formed a train from when they tried to consume each other for the chance of life. Knives knows they never had a chance. The thought haunted him everytime he pinned Vash to the floor to impregnate him, drilling into his head with each violent penetration, taunting him every time he slammed Vash’s head against the wood to make him stop screaming.

Vash thinks he could leave now if he ran fast enough. If his footfalls stayed silent, Knives wouldn’t even realize until he was long gone. But his body cried out with each contraction of his muscles, raw with exertion from being torn in two over and over again. He closed his eyes, praying that his blood would continue to stain the floor, and he would open his eyes and be faced with Rem. And she would hold him and tell him it wasn’t his fault, that he hadn’t wanted it, that he wasn’t responsible for anything. The space between his legs would be nothing but smooth skin and his abdomen would be empty.

The bedroom door opened. Knives was clean again, water having washed their children down the drain. He swore lightly when he saw Vash’s state and hooked his arms under him to drag him to the bath, promising they would try again tomorrow.