Disclaimer: This was supposed to be a two-part thing. But I decided to totally just scrap that idea haha. I'm still alive! And so is this fiction :) I still don't own them, but I just love to keep them forever. Rated M for the hot stuff. Enjoy this part ;)

Chapter 9: Angels We Create and Lose, Part II

The smell of fresh lavenders invaded Lucille's senses. It gave her temporary relief despite the physical pain that she was combatting. The fact that she could feel anything meant she was alive.

Her eyes were still closed and she felt the constraints on her hands behind her back. She was aware that she was blindfolded and tied to a chair. But where am I? What will she do to us? Is Damien's true purpose coming to light?

She had so many doubts but she feared her last question the most. Damien feels like no trace of the witch but what if his potential is just yet to be released? Her thoughts were derailed as she heard the creaking of wood floors and the feeling of someone approaching her.

"You are truly fascinating, little sparrow. I know your mind is running but I couldn't infiltrate it. It's just empty. It's a white canvas with immense light. I loathe it but I love a challenge." The witch had that to say while moving towards the window, by the moonlight, and contrary to Lucille's intuition.

While your presence is just as empty but a black canvas filled with a strange looming energy that sucks the life out of me. Lucille just let her mind work and didn't speak while the witch just denied acknowledging the weakness she felt closing in with the nun.

Surprisingly, Emmanuelle perceived a mixed aura as she looked out the window and saw the castle from the lavender house. "Tell me, little sparrow. What has brought you to the queen mother and the lord's protection?" Lucille heaved to Emmanuelle's question. She didn't want to give leverage to the witch in any form, even by answering questions. She couldn't let any of her own words be used for their harm.

"So you won't speak? That's very wise of you." She faced her captive. "Or is it? You know, you could extract information unbeknownst to me. That is if you ask the right questions." The witch taunted the nun further. She waited but Lucille's silence was all she got. She smirked and turned to gaze at the castle once more. "Suit yourself, little sparrow. I hope your action is to your advantage as mine has been at the moment."

Lucille felt a gush of cold wind beneath her legs. I need to know this plan and squander it immediately. Our lives are at stake. Her nerves were winning but she did her best to hide it from the witch. It also helped that Emmanuelle was more inclined to talk than to do anything else.

"Little sparrow, you and I are such extraordinary beings and this world doesn't deserve us, in my opinion. It feels like we are twin flames. Do you know what twin flames are?" Lucille's face showed contortions of confusion that the witch enjoyed so much.

"Twin flames are two halves of a whole. Given what we could do, we must have come from one soul. But, unfortunately, we serve different gods. Could you just imagine what we could do if that's not the case?"

"They differ from soulmates which are two souls that are extraordinarily linked. You probably wondering why I asked you." The witch sat by the window sill and smiled tremendously at the castle while the moonlight shined brilliantly on her face.

"Because as I speak now, I feel two souls colliding, wrapped in the shell of pretentious strength but dangerous lust. It's mystifying how their effect on me has changed and I believe it's because of you. I love how they believe they are one flame that could destroy me. What they don't know, they are just my means in creating my fire."

Lucille was not sure about the riddle Emmanuelle just blurted. But she could assume that it pertained to the little family she was destined to protect. The witch was directly looking at the lit room of the queen mother and devilishly smiled in that direction.

Moments before Lucille's consciousness returned to her, back in the castle, Catherine was tucking the sleeping boys on her bed after their scrumptious dinner. "He truly is still a child. No matter how much he physically changed, his innocence is still intact."

Catherine gently swooped the dark locks of Damien off his forehead. Stéphane was caringly looking at them from the table where he gathered their used plates.

"He kept his innocence. But I feel that he lost something very distinct from him. I still can't put my finger on it." He stacked the plates and continued cleaning up.

"Is that so? Have you expressed that to Lucille? Or to Damien personally?" Catherine left the bedside and approached the table to help Stéphane.

"I have not but," Stéphane suddenly froze, looking at the distant window with widened eyes. He gently lowered what he was holding and clenched his fist. However, Catherine was busy setting aside the other plates so she didn't notice Stéphane's state.

After a few seconds of silence, Catherine filled in, still not facing him. "But?" Her effort was still rewarded with silence. She now became curious and lifted her head to see what had become of her husband.

"Stéphane?" He didn't hear his wife call him twice. He was focused on Henry's sudden interest in his demon son.

"You have a precious child here, Narcisse. You must take good care of him. Or else, I'll do the job for you." The ghost sat by the bedside and gently swept Damien's hair just like how Catherine did.

"Don't you dare touch him." Stéphane didn't shout to not wake little Jean but his voice indicated his inner turmoil. His wife flinched at the remark even if they were said under his breath.

Catherine understood what was happening. Without a second thought, she moved to Stéphane and turned him by the arms. She captured his face in her hands and kissed him passionately.

Stéphane got so confused. The ghost just vanished from his vision and was replaced by his everglowing wife. He was still looking at her in the first three seconds of the kiss, trying to comprehend what was happening.

But Catherine's lips worked their magic that melted his composure and invigorated his psyche. He gave in and his strong arms corralled her body within his proximity. He embraced her because his life depended on her, as reality has confirmed.

The dance of their tongues was different. Catherine was leading. It discerned as if the Medici queen was putting a spell on the French nobleman. But Stéphane didn't care. In Catherine, he felt safe.

When the lack of air became very apparent, the couple's lip-locking was slowed and eventually halted. As their foreheads rested on each other, his arms were around her waist and her hands were on his chest. Catherine breathily started.

"You saw Henry again, didn't you?" Their eyes were closed, taking in each second their closeness didn't impose trouble but lingered with a sad undertone. They opened their eyes, almost simultaneously, to let the question sink into their souls' visions.

"Yes. He was prying on Damien. I'm sorry you had to see that." Stéphane defeatedly replied. "Why did you lie to me? You told me you feel better." Catherine was just frustrated that Stéphane's poisoning was still haunting them.

"I didn't lie to you. I do feel better. I'm more aware and in control now compared to the initial onslaught of it." He gentled her face to assure her.

"Then why didn't you tell me that you still see him? I'm your wife and my job is to know what is happening to you." Catherine tried her best to hide the weakness in her voice as a certain uneasy feeling of inadequacy came over her.

"Your job is to be the queen mother of France. Being my wife is just an extraordinary blessing that I'm grateful for every day. Never see that being my wife is a job you have to be good at every time. Never see it as a job at all." He sought the strength buried in her resolve. He felt certain guilt for making her feel this way.

"I don't want you to feel that our marriage is as much of a mistake as it is to this world. I love you, Catherine. In our little paradise, this marriage is everything we never thought we needed."

"Look, we've been through so much and I know how important honesty and loyalty are to you. I'm meant to tell you all these but as always, you beat me to it." He smiled and kissed her once more. Speaking to her gentler, kissing her more tenderly than the previous.

"I love you too, Stephane. That's why being your wife is not an obligation but a chosen destiny for me. It's a part of me now and I embrace every part of me that makes me happy." She wanted to reiterate their secret marriage to him and what it truly meant for her.

"Being a queen mother to France and my children gives me a sense of achievement." She pulled him closer. Only their clothes were the barrier to their warm skin. "But being married to you incredibly gives me the sense of secured happiness I thought I can never find."

"We have both been married before. But we finally figured it out. Which is quite odd, saying it out loud like that." She smiled in bewilderedness. Stéphane was just barely catching on to her thoughts.

"I mean, given how we started, especially to the circumstance around this," While Catherine was talking, Stéphane was suddenly overcome with an intense desire for his wife that her words became muffled in the background.

He snatched her face with both hands and bore a look that waved beyond her existence. She felt a heavy urge to just grab him and release the carnal instinct brewing from her insides. But for some reason, something made her want to squash this desire.

This urge feels inappropriate given our children are here but how could I resist those eyes? Should I just keep talking?

Catherine's butterflies were becoming erratic in her stomach as Stéphane finally lowered his head mere inches to her lips. Their breath hitched close. She struggled to talk.

"It strangely feels like," Catherine fixed her gaze to his blue orbs and lost her words.

"Home?" Stéphane attempted to finish her sentence. But she was thinking of something specific. "Beyond home. We are a dream come true and everything in between."

Stéphane almost lifted Catherine and gave her the gentlest fiery kiss she has ever received with those words. Their kiss matched the heat the fireplace was emitting by their side. It was when his kiss led down to her neck she remembered where they were and why she wanted nothing to happen.

"Stéphane, the kids," She breathlessly begged but she didn't know if she truly wanted him to stop. "Are asleep." He replied as he nibbled unto her ear.

It was difficult for the queen mother to resist the lord chancellor's favorable advances. In stifled breathing, she wanted to be heard. "Stéphane, please. Just stop."

He did stop but was quite baffled. He knew and felt she shared the need for this release. "Do you want me to stop?" His hands slithered on her hips. "Because I think you need help with your bodice. Aren't these contraptions killing you?" He sensually whispered to her ears as he swiftly pulled the string that was tying her corset.

A little air kissed her skin as Stéphane continued to loosen her corset. "Yes, it is killing me but I'll be more mortified if the children see us this way." She hissed her request with a mix of irritation and frustration in her tone.

"Who said they'll see us?" He was relentless and continued undressing his wife. "We can't leave them here alone." She was becoming more annoyed with her husband. "Who said we'll leave them?" At the right moment, Stéphane made Catherine suppress a squeal by capturing her to another kiss while swooping her up.

Catherine held onto her husband as she felt levitated by his strong arm and whisked her away. He brought them to the right-wing of her humongous chamber, just behind her dressing panel. "See, they won't see us and we won't be leaving." Stéphane continued with his mission.

"What if they hear us?" Catherine was still worrisome although she was already helping Stéphane undress. "Then we better be quiet, mon amour." Devilish flirtatious smiles were painted on the couple's faces as they pursued the act of passion, culminating from their steady trust within their matrimony and a poisonous ghost visit.

In their previous marriages, never did they had sex with their spouses in a room where their children were nearby, more so in the same chambers. Also, the exact area where their carnal pleasures were rewarded was not ideal as well. They were surrounded by Catherine's stacks of chests containing her wardrobes and it had a tiny space of floor. It was foreign territory for them, making it more exciting even for experienced lovers. It also reminded them of the thrill they felt in the lavender house on their honeymoon.

He was already playing with her glorious body and gave her immense pleasure as their clothes, piece by piece, dropped to the ground. His fingers worked wonders as usual, and Catherine was just transported to a whole new world. "My goodness, Stéphane. Keep doing that." He obeyed and made fast work. He kept toying her center as he continued to kiss her torridly and gulping every moan her mouth was capable of letting out.

"You better take me now, mon amour. I think I can't hold it any longer." She was borderline begging him to just screw her even if she was still wearing her skirts. He smirked at her eagerness and turned her to her surprise. He didn't remove his finger on her clit as he gathered her skirts to her hip and revealed her perfect calves. She was now facing a tiny window where the moonlight provided the illumination they needed for this pleasurable night.

He rashly lowered his pants and had his eager membrane emerged into the scene. She was so ready for him as she positioned herself to be taken from behind. Without further ado, Stéphane penetrated her wife with utmost gusto. Catherine erected and her back rested on her husband's svelte physique without him leaving her body. Not for one second did his hardworking finger leave her glistening sweet center and continued as he fucked her steadily. He found a way to fondle her breast and make out with her plump lips all at the same time.

Catherine felt like her soul was living her earthly body as the simultaneous stimulations were bringing her to heaven. She swallowed every moan she had to maintain the silence in the room. But they were becoming breathless by the minute of their French kisses. She pulled away to catch some air and simply covered her mouth as Stéphane became relentless but steady in pace. They both felt that their climax was also steadily building up but he wanted to do more for his queen. He came nearer to her ears.

"Where are your furs?" His breath became a new addition to the set of carnal lures. She just hazily pointed at the trunk in front of them. He slowed his pace a little and gently bent them forward to open the trunk. "I know you love them but I bet you'll love what I have for you more." He kissed her ears and just whispered. "Just throw them to the floor, mon amour. I promise you, it will be worth it." Then continued back to his original pace. Catherine was befogged but heeded to his instructions. She clumsily threw the furs on the floor as he continued to ram her.

When enough fur was on the ground, he slowed his pace once more and gently released himself from her. Before she could whimper in protest, he turned her to face him and captured her to a sensual kiss. Again, his incredible finger found its way to its original destination as he ceaselessly kissed her and delicately laid her on the pile of fur. He was now on top of her as their kiss was broken for air. They looked at each other as the moonlight shined on both their faces and form.

Stéphane slowly reignited their kiss as his tip exuberantly rubbed her entrance. Catherine was melting in his ways and naturally wrapped her legs around him. With a little nudge from her end, he finally entered her once more in that position. He kissed her tenderly to stifle the upcoming moan between them. They both felt glorious in each contact. Their bodies banged back and forth in the sea of the finest furs, quieted any unnecessary noise that could awaken the boys, and savored every precious second they had under the magnificence of the moonlight.

The sensation became heavier and unbearable to the mind and soul as their bodies just craved more lust and carnal fulfillment. He pulled her closer. He made her sit on him and took control. Their position was satisfactory but Catherine wanted more. She kissed him torridly while humping him. She airlessly voiced out her request. "Lay down, mon amour. Let me ride you."

He laid on the fur coats by the queen's order and waited for his wife to get comfortable. When she found the right position, heaven came closer as expected. She rode him like the amazing equestrian that she was and his stamina resembled that of a stallion.

Their in-sync movements took them to ecstasy. Every thrust was crafted to reach a common goal. "Stéphane, I'm so near." She mumbled within hearing and he just smirked at her and encouraged her further. "Go on, mon amour. Reach heaven with me." He placed his hands on her hips and helped grind him. They started seeing stars and hearing music in their hazy states. Before they completely lose all senses to reality, their lips collided once more and let their carnal desires be spoken by their exploding bodies. Their climax eclipsed the moonlit space, just like they did in the lavender house.

They sat upright and took in air through each other. Still lip-locked, Stéphane embraced Catherine with all his might despite the equal exhaustion that they were feeling. He feebly brought them back to the furs with her covering him. They finally broke their kiss and panted as they admired their after-sex glow, accompanied by the incandescence of the moon.

"You look divine, Stéphane." The moon reflected on his eyes and Catherine moved closer to him as he sheltered their nakedness with the closest fur to him. "Because I reflect on a goddess like you. I hope I have been sufficed as I'm a mere mortal." He let his nose lightly tinkered on hers as they smiled brilliantly at each other. "More than enough. Seemingly, more than these expensive furs."

He chuckled lightly as she said the words while settling her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder and took in his scent. "I can't believe this happened. This is the first time for me." Stéphane whispered on her crown and left a sweet peck.

She kissed his neck as she expressed his doubt. "Do you expect me to believe you haven't done it on the floor? C'mon, Stéphane. You can't fool me with that, knowing your modest sexual prowess." She thumped his chest like always when he teases and they quietly chuckled.

"I mean, this is the first time I ever feel this content, this happiness. Given that I'm not yet well but regardless of that. For this brief moment, everything is alright. And it is all because of you, Catherine." He took in her being, from her scent to her warmth. There was no place he'd rather be.

"I'm glad you feel the same, mon amour." But Catherine wanted to make her intentions blatant and stern. "But as you said, we are not out of the woods yet. Whoever poisoned you will regret the day he or she decided to cross this Medici bitch. My revenge will seep unto that person's every vein and will curse the day of one's birth."

His wife was dead serious as he felt the icy shiver of her turmoil in her eyes. She has said this plan before but now it was closer to execution. It made him remember how he was on the bad side of Catherine. I never want to be back there. It was hell on earth. He thought. So he took a deep breath and simply pulled her closer.

"You have your ways with threats that I find alluring and terrifying at the same time. But there is an enormous difference from then and now." He gently took her hand and placed a chaste kiss on her soft palm. "I won't run away from you, Catherine. Never again. I will be by your side no matter what happens."

He finally whispered words that he wished his true poisoner might hear and serve as a warning of what was to come.

"So if you will finish an entire vial of poison until that person bleeds to death, then best believe, I will throw the fire on the lifeless body and enjoy every minute of hell with you." Their vengeful nature collided with the most devilish smiles and ignited kisses.

The luminous energy of the moon must have reflected the couples' plan and truly reached its rightful culprit.

The English ambassador was fast asleep as expected. I guess your potions worked like magic, Mother. Her mind conceded as she was gazing at her lover's moonlit face. Ambassador Clarke was indeed beautiful but he was nothing compared to the magnificence of Stéphane Narcisse.

Margot sighed but smirked as her seducing plan formulated in her pretty little mind. "Perhaps if my brilliance of proving who his true poisoner is, he might reconsider a youthful princess than an old queen. You will help me with that. Will you, Clarke?" She enlivened herself by speaking to her passed-out ambassador.

She rose slowly and moved out of the bed silently. She poked Clarke to check if he wouldn't budge. When he did not respond and peacefully slept, Margot just had to congratulate herself. "Ah, very good. Now, let's see why you didn't want me to remove your doublet."

During their foreplay, Margot wanted to undress Clarke to check if he could be hiding any cipher within his clothing. Her suspicions grew stronger when he did not want Margot to even touch the garment. It was thrown over by the window sill and she's been eyeing it throughout their whole ordeal.

"Let's see what we have here." She carefully kept her eyes on his lover while her hands traced anything peculiar within the garment. Suddenly she felt a parchment kissing her fingers. She pulled it out. It was neatly folded with no wax seal. "Well, hello." She said as she opened the paper.

4th of May, 1570

My dearest Clarke,

I hope you are well. Nature has been kind as the crops are thriving.

And it is all because of you. Thank you for killing the unnecessary weeds.
Be careful and come home to me. I'll be waiting.

-Rose

Margot was boggled. "So are you some sort of plant expert like mother suspected? And why is it dated five days from now? This letter doesn't make sense." She whispered to herself. She was trying to figure who the hell was Rose and why date it earlier to thank him for some crops. She was not convinced that this was some random letter. She felt there was something special within it and set it aside.

She inspected further onto his clothes but found nothing special until she reached her hand onto his boots, which had secret pockets. She gulped a nerve as she felt something hard and cold. Her hands blindly caressed the material that resembles what she was afraid her lover might possess.

"Good lord, why do you have a gun?" She carefully took it out and tried to steady her hand. Her shaking was not helping but she made the gun be seen under the moonlight.

She inspected the intricate metalwork and noticed the design that was unusual from the guns she has seen before. "Leaves?" were the words that left her mouth.

Golden leaves resembling vines were crafted and carved onto it. Further observation, and surprisingly by the moonlight, led her to the trigger. A faint silver wording caught the light and sparkled unexpectedly. When she placed herself on a more lit part of the window, it was more visible.

"Weedkiller?" Her face was misshapen with confusion. Why would you name a gun? And why weedkiller? She thought looking at the asleep ambassador then back at the gun until her eyes landed back on the letter.

The area where she transferred pushed the letter on her periphery and showed the most unusual thing she had ever seen. She placed the gun in its initial place but accidentally made a hard thud on the ground. She panicked as Clarke moved on the bed. But the ambassador didn't break his slumber and continued back to his snore.

Margot made a sign of a cross. "Good Lord, thank you," then proceeded to get back to the letter. As she properly placed it against the moonlight, she immediately noticed the shimmer encrusted paper that was not seen in the naked eye. She didn't decipher the context of the words yet as she transferred the letter to and from the light. "This is incredible." She marveled at it for a few more seconds until she finally realized what was written.

"Oh my God." She quietly gasped as she read the contents in shimmer. Under the moonlight, two words glistened in the letter. The word crops were entwined with a silver French fleur-de-lis, the word weeds were eclipsed with Lord Chancellor, and the name Rose had the name Tudor on top of it. Margot was grateful that she inherited her mother's fast mind and pieced everything together.

So the Queen of England wants you dead, Narcisse. And she wants you dead in five days with a pistol. She thought and sighed in worry about what's about to come and how this could be stopped. But she was also riddled with more questions than ever. At least, this murder attempt could be prevented. But why would she want you dead? What did you do to her?

The princess contemplated and another dilemma dawned on her. This discovery is beneficial but it doesn't prove that Elizabeth poisoned you. So why and who poisoned you? She looked out the window, directly to the moon, and whispered, "Who did this to you?"

The moon might have known the answer to the princess' question as the true poisoner looked at the celestial body at the same moment the royal was seeking an answer. "This is going to be beyond interesting than anticipated," The witch then transferred her gaze from the moon and back at the queen's window. She smiled the same devilish way the couple did and released a light diabolical chuckle.

The grating sound made Lucille irked in her seat. Emmanuelle felt her discomfort and turned her back from the moon. "What's wrong, little sparrow? Am I being too loud?" She laughed one more time and went beside the nun. She whispered in her ear. "I'll tone it down a bit because we have company." Lucille did her best to hide yet another shiver and tried to breathe properly.

She was startled when she heard three knocks on the door. The witch started to speak. "Hello. I got what we needed. She seems to be helping them but I think she won't have a chance to do that anymore." Then, the nun heard a smooch sound resembling a kiss and heavy footsteps ensued.

"Well, well, well. I didn't expect that we are going to deal with a woman of the Cloth." Lucille deciphered that the deep voice belonged to a man that was working with Emmanuelle. She noted his intonation and even his smell. He was someone that she hasn't met before. "I heard you are helping them. Why is that? What do they owe you?"

Lucille was terrified as the voice and breath felt so near to her face. "I suggest you speak, little sparrow. You see, I allowed you to be silent 'cause I'm quite patient. But I can't say the same with my friend." After a few seconds, the man placed a dagger on one of Lucille's fingers. Its sharpness was evident and heightened Lucille's anxiety.

"You better speak up, nun, before my boredom takes over me." Lucille started to whimper and tears wetted the blindfold as some fell on her face. "I see, that I have frightened you." He went closer and reiterated the situation once more. "I'm more terrible if you will not speak. So tell me, what do they owe you, and why are you helping them?"

Lucille stifled the sob and carefully opened her shivering mouth. "I met them in Lorraine. Some servants must have gossiped about my abilities. They sought me and I was promised to be a court seer if I help them see the future. They don't owe me anything but they threatened to harm my family if I don't abide by their command. Given the reputation of the queen mother and lord chancellor, I serve them now out of the fear they have imposed in me." She was hoping that her lie was a believable scenario.

"I see. They are truly as greedy as they come." The witch followed up and continued to squeeze more information out of her. "Then, how did my son ended up with you? I left him in the woods for them to find. But for some reason, I'm not able to reach him when I needed to. All I could control was his growth so he would come to me himself."

Lucille's inner thoughts were working twice as hard. So that's why he grew up as fast as he could. Did you steal the youth of your son for your gain? You are a cruel soul. Her thoughts were still protected but she needed to respond quickly.

"We found him after the fire in our monastery and orphanage in Lorraine. Someone must have left him there from the woods. He was just a gentle boy. It didn't occur to me that he could be a son of a witch until now." She covered the extent of her real powers nicely with that statement. But it will take more convincing for her captors to believe her. "Interesting. So you did not see us in your visions? Do you expect me to believe that?" The witch expressed her doubts.

"I know that given my capabilities, I might have a chance to know who he is and where he came from. You see, my visions come and go. There is no certainty in everything I see. If I knew that boy was a demon's son, I would have killed him myself." The words that left her mouth were hurtful to her own heart. Lucille could never hurt Damien even if he was hell's heir. The boy has proven himself an angel and could not harm. But reality dictated that they will only find out what he was destined to do.

The witch was astonished to hear the nun's claim. "So you are inclined to kill? Doesn't your church teach otherwise?" She laughed in amusement and taunted her again. "I knew it. We were cut from the same soul. And you show me now, my son's purpose is becoming more evident." Lucille gave another perplexing feature that fascinated her captors, especially the man.

"What a small world. So you are part of that corrupt congregation?" He scoffed and continued his insult. "You all deserve the tragedy that happened. Your faith is just empty promises and a struggling structure. And your power is nothing but a weak consequence of your meritorious misfortune." He drilled his insults alongside his dagger on the armrest of Lucille's seat, reaching her finger and leaving her with a tiny scar. She winced with the initial sting and felt a drop of blood escaping the wound. She let out a timid cry of pain to show them her submission.

But she also thought that it was the best way to undermine her captors at their own game. It gave her enough insight into how their minds worked. They have spoken enough information that could help why they were doing this. Lucille figured that whoever was working with Emmanuelle hated Catholicism and the monarchy and Damien's true purpose could be invoking the evil side of any human that he might encounter.

But just as she was congratulating herself internally, the voice declared his cruel intentions and showed how rotted he was as a person. "But now that you are here, you will help us to destroy them whether you like it or not." He whispered directly to her ear and a new tear fell unto the ground with his every word. "A poisoned lord chancellor is just the start. Now, it's time to move this bloodbath further." The witch smiled wildly behind him.

"Did you hear that, little sparrow? You won't have to work for them anymore. We assure you that you are going to play on the winning side from now on. So you better get your rest, and I'll see you tomorrow." Lucille was left crying in the lavender house as the witch laughed diabolically and was escorted out by her lover, Admiral Gaspard Coligny.

I don't know when will part 3 come up, but best believe, it will haha. Stay safe!