The last sonata by Schubert

"You've picked the perfect color for the lips… I can't afford that shade"

That comment came out naturally, as natural was the step forward she made in the other woman's direction.

She would have liked to see those lips again, and also secretly taste them, even if for just a moment, but in that exact istant those lips just met the pills she herself had invited her to take.

It was too late to stop the unavoidable now, and Myrtle wouldn't have tried anyway. The bruises from the stake and the internal ones that were more than forty years old, were begging for revenge, since justice had failed more than once.

She listened to her saying blabbering something about her portrait, but in the sort of mental trance she had fallen in, she couldn't manage to articulate an answer. She just watched her lie down on the bed in her black fur and close her eyes, waiting for death. Perhaps Fiona would have never known that, but they would have shared that waiting together.

What she had said with almost hate some minutes before, was true: no man would have remained by her side in the last hour, but she would have indeed. She would have checked that the Supreme had breathed her last breath, that her heart had stopped: in other words, she would have ensured that her enternal enemy was finally, really, dead.

And also, by the way, that she hadn't died alone.

Because there was a reason why she hated her so much, after all. Because in all that hate, there was also a sort of perversed, latent, paroxysmal love.

And she had never been envious of her, but maybe just jelaous.

An unwilling tear fell on her cheek as soon as she realized that Fiona Goode the Supreme had finally stopped to exist. A sigh escaped her lips, but she convinced herself that it was one of pure relief. She even forced herself to make one of those malicious and satisfied smirk that had always looked so good on the blonde's lips.

"Half of this stuff is hideous novelty but the other half is magnificent" she thought aloud, finding herself stealing from Fiona's jewelry box as to play her a last prank.

What she would have never admitted aloud was that she wanted all those things, hideous or precious, just to keep a last contact with her.

She kept smiling while she left slowly the room and when she told the news of the successful mission to the other witches… She smiled in honor of the truth, of the justice and of a new brilliant future.

Fiona Goode was dead and Myrtle Snow was smiling.

And yet she started to play "The last sonata" by Schubert and not the "Ode to joy" by Beethoven.


Hello everyone! I'm new in the fandom, I've just finished all the AHS series and I particularly liked the relationship between Fiona and Myrtle from Coven... Yes, I ship them LoL This was just some Myrtle's thoughts about Fiona's "death" in 3x08. I hope you like it... Thanks for reading :)