Surrounded by their enemies, their soon to be killers, they were forced into a corner. Years of running, hiding, fighting all to end like this, in this pathetic dilapidated old church.
Dalia had been struck down, impulsive as always she had thrown herself forward into battle but was quickly outnumbered and out gunned. Germain strode forward in a blind attempt at defending Dalia and by some meaningless miracle they managed to escape the attack, retreating further into the church.
A tall, thin scornful woman watched this from the bell tower far above the battle. Her deep red skirts swept across the splintered wooden boards as she paced across the window to the door and back, swerving around the dented bell and scattered vines. Bullets and thundering footsteps clattered through the church as Dalia, Germain and the soldiers pushed closer and closer to her. The wrinkled woman's heels clattered more and more franticly as the sound of death grew closer.
Her nails dug bloody droplets out of her palms, though her expression was completely blank. Dark, empty blue eyes staring forward coldly. Furiously.
She clenched a small silver hand gun, flexing her fingers over the cold metal trigger. The feeling felt horribly foreign to her as she seldomly chose to use her power this way. A slight chuckle spilled from her tightly pursed lips. How silly this all seemed. How utterly and completely ridiculous it was. She simply couldn't help but laugh at it all, just as the door burst open.
The barrel of the gun was immediately pointed at Germain's trembling form, her body strained from attempting to hold up Dalia's unconscious body. A glittering silver shield blocked off the stairwell—at least temporarily.
"Aria...please...I think—I think Dali's hurt bad now -now.." Germain whimpered. Arias thin lips twisted into a scowl as she turned back to the window.
"She wouldn't be hurt if not for her own foolishness Germain." She hissed coldly, as if her kindly, frail baby sister could ever truly understand.
Germain sat Dalia against the far wall as aria gently closed the door with a small click. Dalia's breathing was shallow and shaky, a deep wheezing Sound spilling out with every strained breath. Aria spun around to look from her sister to the death march outside. the blazing red torches and shining silver suits of armor parading around on braying horses. A familiar sight for them all.
Aria looked back to Germaine trying to repair Dalia's injuries, likely in vain. The thought of them bursting through the door just like when they were children brought back a sharp sense of Deja vu. The image of the two of them silently slipping into the too tight bedroom, nearly scaring their sister to death, though she'd quickly returned the favor by nearly strangling them to death as their mother drunkenly crashed past the doorway. Aria grimaced at the thought, though it didn't entirely disgust her upon further thought. Actually it was rather amusing really. She's relived such events many times but hadn't quite felt so much passion in any other memory since then.
Roars of violence thundered from beyond the door, somewhat startling aria out of her Deja vu. The door shuddered under the enormous weight of the malice it valiantly shielded them from. Germain hid beneath her bone thin hands, whimpering with fear, though her eyes were wide with an indisputable fury. For once Dalia was much too hurt to reflect the same. Her eyes squeezed closed from the pain and blood loss stealing the vibrant color from her face. All that seemingly remained was aria, And she hadn't the slightest idea what to do about this. Many times had aria been chased, even killed on occasion but this was a death she couldn't evade or come back from. A death she couldn't plan for.
The door splintered down the middle. Dalia's breathing grew heavier still as her filthy blood littered the oak wood floor. Germain hid at her side, rubbing her hands over the wounds on Dalia's stomach, pathetically trying to heal the wounds with what little magic remained.
The door splintered further.
Aria stood looked back at the window, shouts of anger and blood-thirst rang out against the over grown court yard.
The door splintered apart, nearly coming off of its hinges. Aria continued to stare out at the court yard blankly. Whether out of fear or anger or sadness she couldn't tell.
Germain shrieked in terror as the soldiers burst down what was left of the door, storming into the room like a bunch of brutes. Arias hands tightened, wringing together painfully.
Rough hands dragged her down to the floor, pulling her roughly by her clothes And hair until she was knelt down beside her pitiful sisters. Dalia on her right—still dying—and Germain on her left—still crying. Aria could hardly do anything but sigh in disappointment.
Maybe it was just that, disappointment, that she felt after all.
The man who stood before them was rather imposing. Tall and sleek with impeccably shined silver armor and deep golden locks that paired well with fiery red eyes. His skin seemed to glow a faint red in the fire light like a demon, although of course he was not. Aria knew too well what I demon looked like. Perhaps that's why she wound up in this situation to begin with.
He stared down at her angrily. She stared back. His eyes narrowed at hers, recognizing the blank empty expression she displayed. For some reason it infuriated him to see it.
The same face she showed the night they met, the night they engaged and the night they married, the night their son and grandson were born. The night she betrayed him. The night she killed his son. That empty expression that had plagued him all these years. He ground his teeth in anger and despair.
He had to know.
"Why? Why have you done this aria? Why?" He muttered, as if reading from script she responded.
"Why do you ask me this again bailfor. Did I not answer this on that night? Have you not been satisfied?" She said. Her voice was strong but quiet. Her gaze unwavering.
"He was our son. That was our home aria. How could you have done this?" The pain in his voice reverberated through the room, striking through every heart she'd hurt before.
"Bailfor...I have had so many sons. I have had so many husbands and jobs. I have had so many homes and families...what's one child to dozens? What's one lifetime when you've lived a hundred times over balifor?" She said with a gentle smile. As if explaining something simple to a small child.
"Then did I mean nothing to you? Our son meant nothing? Our kingdom? It was all just a fun waste of time for you? A game all this time aria?"
"Oh bailfor. I am 866 years old. Older than your eldest ancestors, wiser than your wisest advisors, and more powerful than your most powerful mage. At one time you understood, you loved this about me. Married me for this. Now somehow you've expected I changed? You expected our marriage? Our son to change me after so long?
You are a fool bailfor, And you fell for a fools trap. That's hardly my fault dear." He stared at her as she said this.
Was he truly a fool for loving this witch? Did he deserve this? His son deserves this? No. The pain had to end he decided with a sigh.
"Aria selphais brownsgrove, you have lived a witches life and now you shall be doomed to die a witches death. Your sisters, equally evil, shall face the same fate on this day. May you reflect on your enormous crimes in death." He said, His voice steely and cold. Aria looked up at him blankly as dozens of voices screamed out in victory. She found herself bemused by this.
Was her head really so valuable? Her death so grand and her crimes so severe? Probably. But why now? Why not 100 years ago when she cursed the royal family with plague? Or when she slept with the kings advisers wife in 3463? Why not when she burned the gardens in a fit of rage or destroyed the city of liction? So many fitting reasons To die. Yet here she kneels, dying over a son who tried to murder the father that loved him.
A sigh escaped from her pale lips. "How utterly pitiful." She muttered, just as the sword came down upon her neck and her life quickly ended.