A spy of the old school.
She was of average height, but possessed that sort of deceptive build that had made most of her past subordinates and protégés wonder, for a second, whether their superiors were serious in assigning her as their commander. The look in her eyes often killed the doubt, and if that didn't work, the strength in her grip did the trick.
She followed orders to the dot, accomplishing them always ahead of schedule. She wore none of her medals, and never spoke of her achievements unless she was required to: her life was recorded in her battle scars, and none but one man saw them. Their story together soon became another road joined in the map that was her body.
She played her part in the betrayal without hesitation — it wouldn't be the first heart she had dashed against a stone. When a series of small and unfortunate events closed the door that was her only exit, she took it with grace.
She was buried in an unmarked grave, and he was the only one who mourned her.