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Well, there isn't a happier Teddy on the planet right now!
Title: Crown of Thorns
Word Count: 450
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character Death, Angst
She stood on the broken battlements, and looked out onto a dawn that was washed in the blood of the innocent and damned alike, and wondered what it felt like to be alive on this last, terrible night.
“It is done. He is gone. The Light has prevailed.” The voice behind her was as familiar as her own, as old as time. She could not remember when she didn’t know the Baron; she could not remember her own bloody death. She only remembered that she died in a violent bath of jealousy and thirst for power, and before she could celebrate her freedom from her murderer, he had joined her in this eternity, after taking his own life. The Baron had always been a selfish bugger.
She was at least happy that the Baron had murdered her while she was still young enough to be considered a lovely ghost. She had always pitied the hags and stumpy old men ghosted at ripe old ages, the best of their lives already behind them.
A small frown marred her lovely features. Helena Ravenclaw turned to the Baron. “Did they find Mother’s diadem? They asked me, the Living Ones. I told them where it might be found.”
The Baron glided up close, and she recoiled slightly. If they had been alive, she would have felt his hot breath on her shoulder. “It was destroyed, along with the other trinkets. Along with his empty, soulless carcass.”
Helena had never heard him sound so bitter, even in life.
He raged, “At what cost? My Slytherins, taught to hate in the name of purity! Babes in a Children’s Crusade, fighting a war their mothers and fathers should have finished years ago? Death, greedily charging through the houses of our Founders, searching for the pieces of his soul?”
It didn’t touch her. It shouldn’t touch him. They were, after all, spirits of age and maturity. Living had been a pastime so many years ago she could not remember what it felt like to be hungry, or come panting beneath a man… or die. Why should he?
“You sound angry, Baron,” she murmured serenely.
“I am angry, Helena!” the Baron spat. He gestured. “Look around you! Look at the waste! They have life and love and passion to get, and what do they do? They squander it, fighting meaningless battles for pointless glory! They died for nothing more than a trinket, like your mother’s crown of bloody thorns!”
He wept. “My Slytherins! Why were you lost to the Darkness? Have I taught you nothing?”
Helena looked at the man who had once hoped to be her lover, her husband. “You taught them how to kill, dear Baron.”
Title: Crown of Thorns
Word Count: 450
Rating: PG
Warnings: Character Death, Angst
She stood on the broken battlements, and looked out onto a dawn that was washed in the blood of the innocent and damned alike, and wondered what it felt like to be alive on this last, terrible night.
“It is done. He is gone. The Light has prevailed.” The voice behind her was as familiar as her own, as old as time. She could not remember when she didn’t know the Baron; she could not remember her own bloody death. She only remembered that she died in a violent bath of jealousy and thirst for power, and before she could celebrate her freedom from her murderer, he had joined her in this eternity, after taking his own life. The Baron had always been a selfish bugger.
She was at least happy that the Baron had murdered her while she was still young enough to be considered a lovely ghost. She had always pitied the hags and stumpy old men ghosted at ripe old ages, the best of their lives already behind them.
A small frown marred her lovely features. Helena Ravenclaw turned to the Baron. “Did they find Mother’s diadem? They asked me, the Living Ones. I told them where it might be found.”
The Baron glided up close, and she recoiled slightly. If they had been alive, she would have felt his hot breath on her shoulder. “It was destroyed, along with the other trinkets. Along with his empty, soulless carcass.”
Helena had never heard him sound so bitter, even in life.
He raged, “At what cost? My Slytherins, taught to hate in the name of purity! Babes in a Children’s Crusade, fighting a war their mothers and fathers should have finished years ago? Death, greedily charging through the houses of our Founders, searching for the pieces of his soul?”
It didn’t touch her. It shouldn’t touch him. They were, after all, spirits of age and maturity. Living had been a pastime so many years ago she could not remember what it felt like to be hungry, or come panting beneath a man… or die. Why should he?
“You sound angry, Baron,” she murmured serenely.
“I am angry, Helena!” the Baron spat. He gestured. “Look around you! Look at the waste! They have life and love and passion to get, and what do they do? They squander it, fighting meaningless battles for pointless glory! They died for nothing more than a trinket, like your mother’s crown of bloody thorns!”
He wept. “My Slytherins! Why were you lost to the Darkness? Have I taught you nothing?”
Helena looked at the man who had once hoped to be her lover, her husband. “You taught them how to kill, dear Baron.”
