Virion's grip on the porch railings tightened as the hooded figure approached. The undead army stood at attention, forming a path for their leader. He sighed defeatedly before setting out to greet them, there was nothing more he could do at this point.
He chuckled dryly as his footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. How ironic that the castle he'd once fled from, leaving behind thousands, would be where he, alone, took his final stand. The grand doors flew open as though they were tent flaps in the breeze.
"How nice of you to greet me upon arrival my love," the smile he had longed to see was nowhere to be found in the shadow of this twisted parody, "it's been far too long."
Virion's steely expression did little to hide the rage rising with every word formed on her stolen lips, "Flattery ill behooves evil incarnate Lord Grima, then again, it isn't as though you've ever uttered anything of value." He turned on his heel, gesturing for her to follow.
His 'guest' scowled before manifesting another warped grin and latching onto him, "Now, now is that any way to speak to your wife?" she whispered, slowly creeping up to his ear, "No wonder she left you."
Immediately, he detached himself from the cold embrace, careful not to harm her, "You are NOT my wife!" His icy glare did nothing but encourage her laughter, "You're simply the thief who's manipulating her body!"
"Oh," she smirked, slipping past him and onto the porch, "and what are you going to do about it?" The ever present smile faded as she plopped into one of the seats, "This castle…no, your entire dukedom is barren," her gaze fixed on the empty cups and piping teapot, "You new I was coming, so why didn't you rally your forces, or leave with them?"
"Would there be a point? " Virion remarked while he fixed himself a cup.
"Heh…what none for me?"
"Why are you here?" he deadpanned, before blowing on the steam.
"To kill you of course."
Virion withheld a hopeful smile as she stirred her own tea with plenty of sugar and cream, "I've noticed your…pattern; our bonds are strong, you can't control her."
"Yet, but I will. She's quite restless, now especially. Then again I'm certain you can see that spark fading. So I turn the question to you," she took a sip and peered over the porcelain, "Why are you here?"
"To release my wife," he smiled when her eyes brightened. Virion stood back, now poised with an ancient tome. "I am devoid of the exalted blood, but my skill in magic should suffice!"
Suddenly, the floor around them glowed a bright gold and white, revealing once hidden markings decorating the tiling, "YOU WRETCH!" Gravity was irrelevant in the face of its power. Grima fell to her knees, clutching at her hair and convulsing in pain, "AAGHHaha, heheh."
"No…"
The light continued to flare as she rose to her feet, "I can barely recall when last someone used that on me," with a flick of her wrist the spectacle was gone, "beautiful, but now useless. Did you really think that could kill me."
Virion's legs buckled and dropped him to his knees, drained of magic, "Never… I just want her back."
"Hmm, no."
He grit his teeth, "Why! You're wide awake! You have your power!" his voice broke amidst his yells, "just release her." He lowered his head, his resilience carried away with his tears, "Please…"
"…Not all of it."
"Please."
"Not yet."
"Please."
Grima raised her hand gathering the little energy needed to end him, to end this resistance, to end these…bonds.
"Ma-Mother!" All attention was directed to the little boy who padded into the room.
Not missing a beat, Virion pulled him away before he could reach her, "Morgan no!"
His son struggled against his hold eager to reach her, "No! Mother!"
Virion's eyes dilated as she approached, before he could make a dash she pierced his leg, "Hngh!"
"Father?" Morgan gazed up at him, blissfully unaware of the danger.
"Morgan…run," his strangled panic only added to the dark one's amusement.
She stooped down and began to smoothe back Morgan's hair, "How sweet of you to come see your mother. Did you miss me?"
"Don't you touch him!" he snapped, dragging them away. "Morgan, you have to run she's not..!"
"Be silent…"
"Father? Father!" Morgan jumped to his feet as he felt the warm blood soaking his vest, "Mother we need a healer father's…" he bit his tongue.
Grima stroked his cheek with her blood she stained hand, "My sweet baby boy," she smiled, ignoring the tears that cascaded down her cheeks, "Your father is merely sleeping and he needs his rest, but, let us leave."
He hesitated to speak, chilled by her singsong tone, and settled for a simple nod.
"Good." She stared at Virion's trembling form and outreached hand as she led them away, "A boy needs his mother."