Author's Note: I do not own anything from Bayonetta.

Chapter 12: Reconciliation

"Daddy?" A small girl was standing at his doorway again, her voice small. Balder turned, a small smile on his face.

"Cereza." He gestured to her, and she climbed onto his lap, curling up against his chest. "You know Mummy would have a fit if she found out you were up and about at this time at night."

"I saw them again…" She was starting to cry, and his eyes hardened. "The ghosts…"

"The ghosts are back, you say?" He glanced up at her room, sensing several denizens of Paradiso lingering around it. "Do you want me to scare them off again?"

"They scare me, Daddy…" Cereza looked up at him, her small face streaked with tears. "They scare me more than you can think!"

He chuckled. "I can think about a lot, my dear child. Now, lets go and sort this ghost problem, shall we?"

Adjusting her in order to get a grip, the former Sage stood up, and walked back up the stairs, his features not displaying the annoyance he was feeling. Couldn't they see that the prophecy was a sham? And why wouldn't they leave him alone?

Placing her down outside of her bedroom, he smiled at her. "Now, until I come back out, do not enter this room. Understand?"

"Yes, Daddy." The girl nodded, her eyes focussing on the door. Rolling his eyes slightly, Balder pushed open the door and stepped into Purgatorio.

A trio of Joys greeted him. "Sage Balder, bearer of the Right Eye."

"What you all want?" He growled. "I have quit being the Eye, I am not a Sage any more and I certainly do not want anything to do with Paradiso, at least until Cereza can look after herself!"

"We come with a warning." The middle one stepped forward. "Of events that have not yet come to pass."

"What warning?" He stood at attention, his eyes narrowed. "Tell me, first sphere seraphim; what did you see?"

"Tomorrow the world you know comes to an end." The one on the left answered.

"We warn you of this, and hope that you take note of it." The one on the right finished. "We believe the child holds great potential. Do not let her fall."

Balder reflected on their words, his mind trying to piece it all together. Closing his eyes, he tried to not explode in emotion as he realised what their warning truly contained.

"I will do anything to protect my daughter." He opened his eyes, staring at them gravely. "What must I do?"

"You must do what the clan expects you. But Cereza's safety must be ensued, no matter what." The middle one nodded. "We will watch over her."

"Thank you." He whispered as they faded back into Paradiso, and he let the mortal realm take him again. Standing immobile for a few seconds, he felt someone tugging at his leg.

"Daddy?" Cereza called up. "Are they gone?"

"Yes." He snapped back into reality, turning and picking up the small child. "My dear, sweet Cereza…"

"Yes?" The girl stared quizzically at him, her head tilting.

"You are destined for great things." He began. "No matter what happens, I will always be watching over you. Always be with you, in here." He poked her chest. "Even if I go, I will always love you."

"Daddy?" Cereza leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. "What's wrong?"

She was too perceptive. He smiled as tears began to fill his eyes.

She always made him proud.

"Nothing, my child." He swung her around, letting the sound of her joyous screams fill the air for what could be the last time. "Now, let us get you back to bed."

…

What a strange dream…

Bayonetta painfully awoke to a strange, yet familiar, place. Her stomach and arm ached, her head was pounding with a headache and her shoulder was screaming at her. She grimaced, letting tears fill her closed eyes as she sat up. Beige architecture, green plants and the scent of Paradiso assaulted her senses as she opened her eyes. It was only once she stood back up that she truly realized where she was.

"I know this place…" She examined a wall, gently caressing it with one hand. "I've been here before."

She had been here for most of her life, and had never wanted anything to do with this place again.

Vigrid. Instead of it being nothing but a pit of death and destruction, the walls were gleaming with power, and the vegetation was bright green with its health.

Her arm fell limply to her side as all feeling was lost. Biting her lip, she tried to shake some feeling into it, screaming in pure agony as white-hot pain scorched her body. Tears fell from her eyes as she regained movement of it, her mind revelling in the small victory. She let her own sobs become the only sound in the small clearing, feeling nothing but pain.

The sound of a male's cries reached her ears, and then she remembered that she had a 'sidekick' with her. Twisting around, she found Balder lying on the ground, his glaive still sticking out of stomach, moaning in his unconscious state. Dropping to her knees, silently praising both Jeanne for making her take that advanced first aid course and the fact that she now had something to distract her, she began to assess the puncture.

For certain, the Prophet had not hit anything important. The glaive had sliced through nothing but flesh and skin. Frowning to herself, she figured that he wouldn't want his Right Eye to be dead, and that killing her father well before she was supposed to would probably change the present to the point where his plans couldn't be enacted to easily.

Or was it after? She thought. Time travel is confusing…

Turning her attention back to the wounded man in front of her, she mentally prepared herself, then tore off a long strip of her hair from her suit. Biting down and holding back the cry of anguish, she lifted the sage and tucked an end underneath him, making sure it was reachable when she set him back down. Grabbing the glaive, she quickly wrenched it out, and to her relief it came out cleanly. Tossing it to the side, she grabbed the strip and began to tighten it around his stomach, applying much needed pressure to the wound.

Tying it off, she began to softly chant as small healing energies passed from her hand to the wound. Damien was the far superior of the three of them at magic, but both her and Jeanne had figured out the basics of healing spells from his teachings. Well, if you could say he was teaching them. She had definitely rubbed off on him on teaching methods, unlike Jeanne.

But it was those basics that was going to keep him alive. She wished he was here to heal him properly.

Her own body ached and roared in rebellion, but she quenched the pain away. She needed to heal him first. He was the one in danger of dying first.

The Left Eye began to scream warnings at her, and she heard faint voices approaching them. Cutting off her healing spell, she carefully lifted the Sage, biting down a scream as her shoulder burned in agony, and carried him into the building beside them. Luckily, it was long abandoned and was emptier than Luka's lollipop stash at home. Dashing out, she grabbed his glaive and tossed it in next to the Sage, running in after it and closing the door silently.

Casting a light concealment spell, she listened in on the pair of female voices as they discovered their previous location, trying not to cry out as her shoulder began to flare up again.

"…well, it looks like someone was here at least. The Elder was right."

"This blood looks recent. With any luck, we should be able to find them."

"You really think they are just going to be able to be found like that, with little effort?" The first voice argued. "If the giant energy spike is anything to go by, they probably have cast a concealment spell, and a good one at that."

"So, what you are saying is…?" The second voice asked.

"We need to be there for Lady D'Arc's trial. Saying nothing was here will allow us the time to prepare ourselves."

Those words caused a sinking feeling to form in her stomach. Swallowing, she glanced back at the unconscious man.

"And now I know when this is…" She whispered, dread filling her. Turning her attention back to the voices, she tried to continue listening, only to find they had left.

Smiling slightly at her luck, she waved away the spell and returned her full attention to the injured Balder. Making sure he wasn't going to bleed out, she turned and began to explore the empty house. The room she was in was obviously the living area, or meeting space. Three hard benches surrounded a small firepit, each leading to a room. The first room contained the kitchen equivalent from the 1500s, and the second contained what looked like a washroom.

The third contained a staircase leading both upwards and downwards. Glancing back at the sleeping man in the living room, figuring he wasn't going to wake up and kill her anytime soon, she decided to head up first. The first room contained a sign with 'Keep Out' written in Enochian, so she decided with a small smile that would be her first visit.

Unlocking the door and opening it, she found it contained what looked like a small study – a desk, a small library, and a chair. Her curiosity piqued again when she saw a journal open on the desk. Judging by the dust that covered everything, the journal had been left there for a long time. Approaching it, she read the words printed on the page, dread beginning to fill her.

The time has come. They have found us. I don't know how. I don't know why.

My daughter cannot stay here. They already got to Balder; the Lumen discovered and took him almost a week ago. The Umbra will find her, and I do not know what they will do to her. It's not safe for her, and it is not safe fo

The passage ended in an abrupt spill of ink. The cold feeling was beginning to increase. Bayonetta began to breathe heavily, and she ran out of the room.

The next two rooms were simply labelled 'Cereza' and 'Balder and Rosa'.

Tears began to fall from her eyes. This was her childhood home. This was her home. Her wounds were beginning to throb, and pain was filling every sense she had. Her arm dropped down limply as all feeling left it.

Balder. Go to Balder. Make sure he is all good.

She dragged herself downstairs, trying to focus on the one thing she knew she could do.

Get Balder into a bedroom. More comfortable. Then heal him.

One thing at a time.

Grabbing the Sage, she began to carry him up the stairs. Her shoulder screamed in agony, and more blood dripped from her arm as she began to feel the pull of unconsciousness. What it would be to just fall asleep and-

FOCUS!

Kicking the door down, she placed him onto the dust covered bed, trying not to stir up anything.

Breathe. Heal Balder.

She placed a hand onto his forehead, concentrating on her magic. Now she was uninterrupted, she could properly, to the best of her abilities, heal him, biting down any pain she was feeling.

…

"She's this way!" Damien whispered to himself, Loki nodding in confirmation on his shoulder. Twisting his body into a dive, he plummeted towards the ground, his eyes narrowed and his face grave. His thoughts had not strayed from the battle between his sister and their father, and he had surmised he wasn't dead since he was still in one piece.

Stop thinking about that. Khepri chided. Focus on what needs to be done.

Landing heavily, he stayed in a crouch as Loki jumped off his shoulder and transformed back into his human form. He looked around, noting how grandiose the building seemed to be. Purple and pink designs wrapped around the walls, and the floor was made of pure obsidian.

"I can sense her, mate. Well, an Umbra Witch and hopefully the one you are after." The young man flicked a hand of cards out, glancing around in the small clearing. "And something else too."

Ahh, the knight in shining armour… So much for the former 'mighty' Lumen Sages…

"Show yourself!" The winged man sprang to his feet, Shuraba flickering into his right hand. He held it in a reverse grip, trying to find the origin of the voice in his head. "Face us!"

Why should I? You are not worthy of my attention, or my time…

"I just want Jeanne!" He desperately cried out. "Just let her go!"

"And why would the Infernal do that?" A voice called out from behind them. "Impudent mortal. You know better than to demand from an Infernal. And of all people, you should know that."

"You!?" Damien turned to see the flickering blue spirit of the Prophet behind them. "What have you done with my sister!?"

"The same thing I did to your father." The Prophet smiled, then grew thoughtful. "Although, I've never tried this approach before."

"What?" Loki stepped forward. "What on earth are you on about, mate? All you ever do is speak in half-truths and metaphors; if I didn't know any better, I would say that you are hiding something!"

"Loki." The name dripped distastefully from the spirit's mouth. "Why do you bother with these troublesome mortals? Can't you see the error of their ways? And how they have ruined this planet with their mistakes that you have personally enabled?"

"Because it's better than enslaving them!" The boy argued. "You speak of control, yet without free will, nothing can progress! That is why we split into our two selves in the first place!"

"Troublesome puppet!" The Prophet glowered at the defiant boy. "You offer me nothing except your sovereign power. Now return to me that power, or you will suffer and I will take it regardless. You should know this inevitability. And if you don't, I just told you."

"No." Damien stepped between the pair, pointing the katana at the spirit's chin. "You aren't getting anything back to continue your little scheme you've been creating."

"You know nothing of my schemes, puppet. You really think I'm making it up as I go along? Now, get out of the way!" The Prophet screamed, insanity tainting his words. Damien clicked his fingers, and a small, golden portal opened beneath Loki.

"Woah!" The young man screamed as he fell down and out of the small alcove they were in.

I'm sorry, little one. Damien returned his attention to the increasingly angering spirit in front of him.

"How dare you!?" He bellowed. "How dare you!? Disobey me!? You are nothing but a broken puppet, just waiting to be destroyed!"

He returned his look with defiance.

"You mortals do not know when to quit!" The Prophet snarled and clicked his fingers. "I am the greater power; why must you keep resisting?"

A blue portal snapped into existence behind the winged man, its force pulling all objects near it in, making him slam the Shuraba point first into the ground in order to keep his position, his wing, hair and cloak flapping heavily from the forces.

"You will find nothing but the immense pain of your past waiting for you!" The Prophet glared in hatred. "And if your sister can forgive Balder, then all you three need to do to escape this is for you to forgive him too!"

The words struck him. His eyes widened as his mind whirled.

Forgive Balder?

He… couldn't. Not with what he had done.

He had no intention of forgiving the man as long as he lived.

"Now, goodbye!" Floating forward, the Prophet gave a swift kick to the katana, causing it to come loose and sending Damien flying back and towards the portal. "And good riddance!"

The winged man roared in defiance as he was sucked into the time vortex, then all went silent as it collapsed onto itself.

"Now, that's that." The spirit turned away and sighed in frustration. "Where could you have put my 'better' half?"

…

Bayonetta watched her father sleep, her mind mentally exhausted and her body burning with pain.

Far too many things had happened, all at once.

The man who was so desperate to kill both Loki and her was a pale shell of her father. A shell broken by a lie from the Prophet.

"You killed my clan. You murdered my wife and child!" Those words haunted her more than she could imagine. The images of her father, a powerful man, openly breaking at the lie, constantly replayed in her mind's eye. Bayonetta didn't know what to do about this. Hell, she didn't think to tell him the truth as soon as she possibly could.

She didn't know why she was so forgiving. He was going to unleash the witch hunts in two days. And then everyone Bayonetta had known would be dead, and the events she had dubbed the 'Fall of the Clans' would happen, and the world would be nearly destroyed at his command. Then during the next five hundred years, he would kidnap Jeanne, kill Antonio, kill tens of thousands of people all for nothing and mentally and physically torture Damien into the man he was. She should hate him. She had every right to hate him.

Yet she couldn't.

She had seen it in his eyes. She had seen it in his memories. He was a lost, desperate man. All he wanted was revenge for his family, not the assimilation of the world. Hell, if she was being truthful, the man just wanted to die, so he could be with his family.

If only he knew… She thought bitterly. If only he knew about me, and the truth…

She finally decided not to tell him the truth. The Prophet's warning played through her mind, and she had surmised that if she did tell him, he would think that she was lying and she would be dead within seconds.

Did that mean he killed Mummy? She suddenly realised what was implicated from all of this; her father had unleashed the witch hunts, and from what she remembered Balder was near where Rosa had died.

She was beginning to panic. There was no way this Balder would kill Mummy; he would kill himself before he had done that. Her breathing was becoming erratic, and she tried to slow it down.

She began to sing to herself, trying to calm down. A song that her mother had only sung once ever to her reverberated in her mind, and she chose to let it flow from her tongue.

"Moon river, wider than a mile,
I'm crossing you in style, someday.
A dream maker, you heartbreaker
Wherever you're going,
I'm going that way.

Two drifters, off to see the world,
There's such a lot of world to see.
We're after the same rainbow's end, waitin' 'round the bend,
My huckleberry friend, moon river, and me…"

…

Balder awoke to the sound of a very familiar voice singing a very familiar song. A song that had played during their wedding, her favourite song.

It couldn't be.

She was dead. Maybe this was a dream. Maybe this was the afterlife, and he was about to be invited into the ranks of Paradiso. He hoped that was true; that way he would be out of this nightmare and be with them once more.

He was in his old bedroom, except he could smell the layers of dust around him. That alone was enough for him to realise he wasn't in a dream. He couldn't stand dust. Neither could she.

He wished this all was a dream, and he was going to wake up any moment with Cereza jumping onto him. But no girl came, and no laughter from his wife followed it.

Shifting slightly, he grunted in pain as it flared in his stomach. Confused for all of two seconds, he remembered what had happened. Right. He had been betrayed by Loptr from trying to seal his vengeance on the Umbra. He wondered who was singing, and whether they had saved him.

He wished they had not. The afterlife, hell any afterlife would be better than this accursed existence.

"R…r-rosa?" He croaked out, swallowing instantly at the painful dryness of his throat. The voice stopped, and he really wished it hadn't had. He quite enjoyed that voice, and he missed her singing that song. This was just as good, and the pang of sadness and nostalgia briefly overwhelmed the pain he was feeling.

"Please, don't speak." The voice's owner became far more apparent as she continued to speak, and his anger rose with every word. "You need to rest."

"Umbra Witch…" His voice contained enough venom for her to get the picture and scope of his feelings. "What are you doing to me?!"

He turned his head, and saw her sitting on a chair, staring at him in exhaustion, pain and…

Relief?

"I'm healing you, you dolt." She answered, frowning slightly at his actions.

"Healing me?!" He recoiled, ignoring the flare of pain. "Cease your foul practices, witch!"

"Foul practices?" She answered, amusement lacing her tone. "Are the healing arts all that bad? They are saving your life."

"The 'healing' arts are forbidden in your clan." He growled. "Even I know that."

Her frown returned, and her eyes began to water.

"Stupid witch…" He continued. "Why are you saving me?"

She didn't answer.

"Umbra Witch!" He bellowed, his anger winning out over his body's cries. "You will answer me!"

She still didn't answer. She appeared to be panicking slightly, with her breaths fast and laboured, and her body tensing up.

"Why are you saving me!?" He hissed. "You killed my brothers. You let my wife die. You slaughtered a defenceless little girl. What is a Lumen Sage to y-"

"Shut up!" She yelled, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Jesus motherfucking Christ, for once in your goddamn life, just shut the fuck up and let your body heal!"

He conceded that she was right. If he wanted to live, getting his body agitated was not the right course of action. Glaring, he closed his mouth and let silence reign.

"You know what, Balder?" His ears perked up. She knew his name. That alone was far more interesting than anything else that had transpired recently. "I think I prefer you this way; you actually shut up and follow directions for once."

"I do as I please." He snarled. "And how do you know my name?"

Silence reigned again.

"Umbr-"

"You are the last Sage. It's not hard to figure out which one you are." She answered quickly, but the hesitation was enough for him.

"Do not lie to me, witch." He let mock disappointment lace his tone. "The Umbra did not keep records of the Lumen, and they certainly will not remember the one whose life they tore apart!"

She didn't answer and opted to glare at him in silence.

"At least give me your name, witch." He sighed to himself as he felt the pain creeping up on him again. He knew that he would fall unconscious again, and if he was being honest, he would rather that than to deal with the witch.

"Bayonetta." She answered after a moments hesitation, and Balder rolled his eyes as his body began to shut down into sleep.

"Of course, you lie." He began to drift off. "You cannot help it."

His last thoughts were of Rosa and of Cereza as he remembered them, and he silently mourned into unconsciousness.

…

The witch kept her head low as the guards walked her into the throne room. She could feel their hate for her; it was almost funny how much they had for her. It was only twenty years ago when they bowed down with reverence to her. Now, she was simply scorned. Was it rightful scorn for her? From their point of view, it was correct.

She knew the truth. They had no reason to scorn her.

The chains and shackles weighed down on her feet and wrists, and her Umbran uniform was dirty and greyed with dust. She felt inadequately prepared for this, and the gathered witches obviously shared the same opinion.

"She is here, madam." The head guard spoke, and the Umbran Elder nodded.

"Good. Now leave us." The normally sharp voice was dulled with pain. The guards murmured amongst themselves in surprise, but they followed her orders and walked out, leaving only the witch and her Elder remaining.

"You asked for me?" The witch asked, her voice small in the large room. The Elder nodded.

"Rosa." The Elder nodded. "I have a task for you."

Rosa tilted in her head in curiosity as she waited for the Elder to continue.

"This afternoon, a massive influx of energy was recorded from your old home." She began. "Two sentrarchs discovered a pool of blood and the signs of two bodies existing, but reported that no one was there nor that there was other evidence of someone being there."

"You think whatever caused the spike is still around?" Rosa narrowed her eyes, beginning to understand what her superior was getting at.

"I want you to investigate." The Elder nodded. "You know better than anyone here the contents of your home; you would know if anything was out of place."

"I understand." Rosa hesitated, then looked questioningly at her. "But why me?"

"Rosa." The Elder stood up and walked towards her slowly, her voice soft. "Of all of us, you are the strongest witch. And of all of us, the most expendable."

"I'm not the strongest wi-" She argued, but the Elder held up a hand.

"We both know you threw the fight when we fought for this stone." She held a hand over her Umbran watch, gesturing towards the dull red jewel holding the Left Eye. "You are the most powerful Umbran in recent history. If whatever is there is able to defeat you, we will regard whatever is there as a threat to the Umbra and take suitable measures to see it eliminated."

"I understand." Rosa knew there was no lies in her statements, only truths. "I will do my best, Madam."

"Good." The Elder placed her hand onto her mouth, and then placed it onto her forehead in a traditional farewell. Rosa's eyes widened at the gesture.

"But… why?" She gasped out, her voice cracking. "You've done nothing but hate me for twenty years!"

"I was talking with an old friend, and he revealed an important truth to me." She smiled at her, tapping on her forehead. "The prophecy? The chaos you have bought into this world? It's all a lie."

"I know." Rosa looked at her in hope. "It's the reason why I allowed it to happen."

"And we thought you as a mad woman when you told us." The Elder's smile dropped. "We have treated you and your daughter horribly for nothing."

"You didn't know any better." She shook her head. "I forgive you."

"We will make preparations for an apology-" The Elder began.

"Don't change how you treat her." Rosa held up a hand. "She will suspect something, and so will everyone else. And I do think there's a small sliver of truth to the prophecy; my daughter's abilities are far greater than an average Umbra. That cannot bode well."

"Understood." The Elder smiled again, then gave her a curious look. "Don't you have something to be doing?"

Rosa smiled and sprinted out.

…

Balder awoke to the sounds of pain. Opening his eyes to darkness, he frowned as the sounds became clearer to him. It was the sharp inhales from a hyperventilating person, followed by short gasps of relief.

"What in the blazes is she doing?" He pushed off the quilt covering him, feeling pain flare up in his stomach as he did. Grunting, he clicked his fingers and summoned a small ball of light and the room filled his vision. His old room, no their old room.

"And of course, I am shirtless." He rolled his eyes, stopping when he saw the makeshift bandage wrapped around his stomach. That was her hair, torn from her own head. He knew that was painful; Rosa had used her hair to bind a cut on his shoulder once. Hell, they had met the same day that had happened, and he could not forget the pain that she had endured just to make sure he had healed.

Who on earth was this witch? And most importantly, why did she care so much?

He stood up, clutching at his stomach. Letting the room spin as he reorientated himself, he saw his coat sitting on his chair, and his glaive leaning on her dresser. His boots were sitting at the edge of the bed, but they were not of his concern.

The pained whimpers were his main priority.

Slowly, he walked out of the room, leaning up against the wall for support. Letting the light guide his way, he finally arrived outside of his daughter's room. Resting slightly from the exertion, he listened in to her cries, frowning at her.

What in the blazes was she doing?!

He pushed open the door to see her holding her left arm, and bloody bandages surrounding her. She whipped around, her eyes glistening, her cheeks wet and her face pale. Her glasses lay discarded on the stand beside her, and her shoes were placed neatly at the end of her bed, just like Cereza used to do.

"Balder?!" Her voice was strained. "You shouldn't be up! You shouldn't be her-"

"Well, I am now, witch." He refused to call her that name she had given him. "What the hell are you doing?"

She didn't answer, and a small needle tumbled out of her left hand as it went slack. His frown turned into shock, then into realisation.

"Remove your glove." He commanded, and she shook her head furiously. "Remove it now!"

Biting down a cry of pain, the witch pulled her glove away to reveal an ugly cut still gushing blood, half of it bound. Kneeling, and ignoring the painful ripping in his stomach, he tenderly grabbed her hand, his Eye telling him all he needed to know.

She had been cursed. In three places, to be exact. Her forearm was obviously the oldest, from their first meeting. Her stomach and shoulder were the most recent, from the battle they had just fought.

It was a wonder she was still alive.

"What have you been doing with this?" He glanced up at her face, and his resolve began to slightly crumble. She looked scared, like a lost little girl.

"It doesn't heal." Her voice trembled with the pain she was visibly feeling, and he couldn't even begin to imagine the agony she was in. He was lucky that the Prophet had specified him and Loki as the only two unable to be affected by his glaive, otherwise they would both be dead.

"It won't ever." He picked up the needle and began to pull out the string trying to stitch the wound together, shuddering in disgust at her supposed 'plan'. "My blade was cursed, as a deal breaker with the Prophet."

"C-cursed?" Her sharp intake of air was all he needed to know about her reaction.

"It's cursed with time. Whatever it touches will stay in that state forever." He began to let his Lumen magic flow through his hand as he began to heal it. "With any hope, I should be able to fix it."

"Why…?" She shakily asked, looking at him with surprise.

"You saved my life. For reasons I will never understand or know because you refuse to tell me." He looked at her with apprehension. "So I will now return the favour."

He then looked down to see the cut re-slice itself open, cursing under his breath in shock. "If I can."

"That's why I was using the needle." Her voice was quiet as she reached in pain for the glove. "To try and keep blood from spilling."

"Smart, but not wise." He helped her place the glove on and began to tighten it around her wrist using the discarded ball of string. "This would've killed you well before the blood loss would have."

"I just want it to stop… Can't you do anything, Balder?" She was pleading with him. The man who had tried to kill her.

Why was she trying to plead with him?! It made absolutely no sense!

"Who are you?" He asked again, leaving her shoulder and stomach under her own hair. They would provide enough tension to keep herself from bleeding out.

"C- Bayonetta." She quickly replied, but he noticed the small, almost comprehendible slip.

"Why must you lie?" He looked her in the eye, and she looked away. "Why must you refuse to tell me the truth? If we were not enemies, and had met on friendlier terms, would you even consider telling me your name?"

Silence reigned as she mulled it over, her eyes still leaking tears of pain.

"No."

He grabbed her by the throat and threw her against the wall, eyes blazing.

"What is your problem, witch?!" He hissed as she began to beg. "You claim to know me through records only, but you obviously know me personally, if not closer than that! And why won't you tell me your godforsaken name?!"

"Please, Balder…" She tried, but he wasn't having any of it. He had had enough.

"You will tell me the truth, witch." He summoned his glaive and poked it at her shoulder, causing her to scream in agony. "Starting with your name, and then how you know me!"

She was sobbing from pain, and something he couldn't quite identify. His glare hardened, and he pushed the glaive back into her. Her screams doubled to new heights, and a small, dark part of him relished in her cries. She deserved this. They all deserved this.

Her pain was nothing of the sort he personally knew.

"Tell me, Bayonetta." The name dripped out like venom from his mouth as he continued to torture her. "Tell me! Now!"

"No…" She cried between screams. "I can't!"

"Then why did you kill them!?" He bellowed, driving the glaive almost fully into her wound. "Why did you kill my wife and child!?"

"HEY! You- Balder?!" An extremely familiar voice that was in complete shock carried into the room. The glaive fell to the ground as the Sage turned to the doorway in shock. Bayonetta fell to the floor, dazed and in tremendous pain.

"Rosa?" His voice was but a whisper to the witch standing in the door. His hands were shaking, and tears threatened to fall from his eyes. "They- He- Your-"

He swallowed, and he reached out hesitantly "He said you were dead… He said you were all dead…"

To his surprise, she had figured out what was going on. Flinging herself at him, she grabbed onto him in a tight embrace.

"They told me no one survived." She was crying into his chest as he returned the embrace. "They told me no Lumen Sage walked the Earth any longer…"

The pair stayed together for what seemed like an eternity, until a thought came crashing into Balder's head.

"What of our child?" He pushed her back, his eyes full of worry. "Where is Cereza?"

"She's attending the throne ascension ceremony right now." She smiled wanly at him, and his eyes softened at her, and a huge weight appeared to lift from his shoulders, then came crashing back down onto him.

…

Mummy was here.

Bayonetta stared dully at the ground, pain everywhere as tears spilled from her eyes. She didn't think that this was ever possible.

Mummy, Daddy and Cereza. All one family again.

"Bayonetta!" Balder's voice interrupted her, and his face appeared in her swimming vision. "Bayonetta! Please!"

"Hurts…" She whispered, and Balder visibly relaxed.

"She's still coherent. That's a start." Balder turned to his wife and gestured to her. "The string!"

"No time!" Rosa leaned down and got a glimpse at her face. Her mother nearly recoiled in shock, but managed to keep herself together. Reaching onto her hip, she tore three strips of hair from her leg, more hair immediately rushing to fill the exposed skin. Crying out softly in pain, she passed two strips to her husband and worked as one to tie the bleeding shoulder tightly.

"It's going to be ok." Batonetta heard her whisper. "Hold on and relax. You've been a brave girl."

She began to cry, her sobs and wails filling the room. The Sage flinched, and they could all see the guilt beginning to fill his form and eyes.

"Move her onto the bed." Rosa turned to Balder, who was refusing to meet her eye. "She needs the rest."

"On three." Balder grabbed her shoulders, and the pain was enough to send her into the dream realm once more.