Severus charged out of Hogwarts castle, still covered in blood from his Dark Revel, the life as a death eater, the mortality that moments ago had left him. Blood spilled across the grass and he shuddered at his own wake, the premonitions and the memories flooding through him.
The memories were flooding through him in half shot visions, her face smeared in blood, smirking, the infant screaming on a battlefield dead and burning.
She had killed it. She had killed it. She had stomped this child and burned it and scattered it to the four winds.
He remembered laughing at her wasted time.
Her sword spun in the most beautiful dance he'd ever seen.
Blood and blood and blood and blood….. He was sick of blood.
He found himself screaming into the night air, tears spilling down his cheeks, pain and fear and anger all melding into one solitary sound in the dead night.
Who are you?!
"She was built to be a wargoddess. You know that."
He didn't look back, seeing Byanei's reflection clearly enough in the water.
"Leave." For all the emotional turmoil, his voice was solid.
"She will never love you the way that I do. All she knows is hate. It sickens you to remember, now. She will not have improved, if anything, she will have become worse. She has killed already."
"She is what she is," he sighed, turning to look at her. "And she feigns nothing else. You condemned your sister for her lover, Byanei, and the fates will never forgive you that."
"I do not need them to," she whispered. "The only forgiveness I seek is yours."
"You have what you want," he snarled, turning away. "The human race rendered desiring at your glance. It was fitting for her to give you."
He stood, silencing her with a glare, and she suddenly realized that the curse could not affect him, knowing it was there.
"Ranistaka would see you dead, and with right, and I will aid her in any way I can. If you touch her, I will see to your fate far more thoroughly than she did." He started walking towards the gates.
"She cannot love you! Why do you waste time?" she screamed after him.
He laughed, heartfelt and throaty, but oddly menacing, as he turned. "She does. And nothing you do can make me believe otherwise. You, Byanei, moon goddess, third daughter of Lunasa, with the blood of an elf and the fae, are, in your own way, far less redeemable than all the world's blood on your sister's head could make her. What excuse do you have?"
He turned for the last time, striding confidently toward the gates, his hand controlling the sword he hadn't consciously realized was at his side. It was habit.
"Arawn, you fool," Byanei hissed, trying to control the angry tears.