The homunculi were half-alive versions of her every sin. She was the representation of the sins they were named for, for she was human. Companion fic to Sins.
She dragged them out into the sky and the sun from the darkness, and they kicked and screamed even before they took a breath. She did not give birth to them, for one could not give birth to one's own faults.
Envy. She envied Trisha Elric, envied her for holding Hohenheim's love when Dante could not. She envied the human woman for bearing his sons, forgetting the fact that she, too, had borne a son for him, a son who had never acknowledged her as Mother.
The envy turned into jealousy into hatred, and she viewed Trisha as Eve and herself as Lilith, for Trisha was a wife to Hohenheim and mother to his sons, while Dante was only a lover and a /dirty secret/, a past that Hohenheim didn't want to remember.
And so she waited in the shadows of the darkness, and envied and /hated/.
Greed. Dante wanted and wanted and wanted all of Hohenheim's love; hoarding the affection she was given deep in her heart, locking it to prevent the love from escaping. But she never realized that by locking up her heart, she was unable to return Hohenheim's love, and was only able to take and take and take and never /gave/.
Dante never knew that love was not unlimited and eternal, and so she took and took and Hohenheim gave and gave until he had nothing left to give and nothing to want to give.
And so he left, and Dante cried behind him, for she was greedy, so greedy, and wanted more even though he had nothing to give.
Gluttony. She was not a glutton for food or drink, for they were simply needs of the living and unimportant. Dante wanted the Philosopher's Stone, even though she already had many fragments, broken pieces of red in her hand, so much like pieces of a broken heart.
She sent Greed and Envy out to collect them, gathering the pieces and binged on them like a glutton binged on food and drink. She crushed them into powder and poured into champagne, and laughed for this drink cost far more than diamonds ever would. Cleopatra was nothing next to her.
And so she drank, and watched her body's ageing slowed, and then sent her sins out to collect more.
Lust. Dante lusted after everything she shouldn't. When she was in her original body, she lusted over a man twice her age, seducing him with sweet words and peeks of pale white flesh. She won him over with lust and manipulated the lust until it changed into love even as she fell further and further into her own trap.
She lusted for Hohenheim, and caught him. She craved for the Philosopher's Stone, and had that in her hand. She lauded her victory, and cast her eyes out for more to lust for, and found nothing.
And so she had everything taken away.
Pride. She had never knew defeat, had always denied that she could lose. Dante placed herself above mere humans, for they would never have the power she wielded so effortlessly. She placed herself above the homunculi, for she had a soul and they had not.
But the higher you are, the harder you fall.
And so she was defeated by a mere human boy and a mindless drone without a soul.
Sloth. Dante never did anything of her own, preferring to send the homunculi to do her bidding. She stayed in the background, plotting and planning. The Sins were her eyes and mouth and ears and hands and legs, the body while she was the /soul/.
But Dante had never realized that the body was needed by the soul while the soul itself is a burden and something that the body had never needed. She refused to acknowledge that fact, and controlled the homunculi with false promises and fake smiles. She refused to admit that she was nothing without them.
And so it was only fitting that she was killed by one of the sins she never admitted to have.
Wrath. She was angry, always angry, in a rage even as she smiled and spoke in gentle tones. Dante raged over Hohenheim leaving her and taking away the Philosopher's Stone, and raged over alchemy for taking her son (although he had never acknowledged her as Mother) away from her and giving back a monster in his place. She screamed in anger at Greed's defiance and the various failures that the homunculus made, punishing them in vicious ways.
Her anger was aimed at everything, at the Elric brothers for daring to live, at the homunculi for daring to defy her. Dante's wrath was a whip, tied to her hands with spider silk, lashing at everyone around her. It was a whip that rebounded back to her every time she struck out, for the resentment of those who suffered her anger was far more dangerous than any whip could be.
And so it was ironic that the one homunculus she did not raise was the most like her.