WRITTEN FOR QLFC, RESERVE LEAGUE

S4, R10

Beater 1: The Bloody Baron

WC: 1145


"Awiergan…"

The Bloody Baron looked around the hallway, completely bewildered. Awiergan? He had been 'The Bloody Baron' for so long that he had almost forgotten his own name. No one alive even knew him by that name anymore, so who could be calling him?

"Awiergan…"

He drifted slowly down the hallway after the voice, unable to stop himself. It was a feminine voice, and he had a feeling he would recognise the owner of the voice if he saw her. He followed the voice through the corridors and down the stairs.

"Awiergan… My love..."

The baron stopped dead in his tracks.

No one had ever called him 'my love' before, so he immediately knew to be on his guard. Maybe it was Peeves trying to pull a prank on him? He would have to punish the foolish poltergeist.

He put on his most menacing scowl and floated through the walls after the voice. Then, he arrived in a large room that was empty; it only held a tall mirror with ornate carvings on the top and bottom. The baron slowly moved closer, looking around and trying to sense the attack he was certain would happen.

Nothing happened.

And then, he drifted closer to the mirror.

"Awiergan, my love… You're home," a woman's voice rang in his ears, and he stiffened as his eyes landed on the mirror.

In the mirror's clear reflection was a tall young woman with beautiful brown hair, sparkling brown eyes, and an angular jaw. Dressed in a long, full-sleeved gown made of expensive Acromantula silk, she stood in the foyer of a mansion the baron immediately recognised as his ancestral house. One hand was on her protruding stomach and the other on her back; she was happy and glowing.

The baron fell to his knees in front of the mirror, his dead heart almost being revived by the image. Contrary to popular belief, ghosts could stop themselves from floating right through the floor. How else were they supposed to 'walk' on the ground? Ghosts needed to concentrate on not floating through the floor by making a concentrated effort; it had taken the baron a few decades to learn how to do it subconsciously.

"Awiergan… You're home. I missed you so much," Helena Ravenclaw's reflection whispered, absolute love and adoration in her voice. The baron almost wept at the sound.

Oh, how he'd yearned to hear his beloved calling him by his first name. How he had longed to see her offer him her beautiful smile just once more. His deepest desire had been to see her happy with him and round with their child.

And now, there she was!

"Min diere," he whispered, crawling towards the mirror. He didn't even know how this was possible, but all he cared about was getting to her.

He reached the glass and placed his see-through hand on its cool surface. And he craved the warmth only she could provide. He longed to touch her. To hold her. To kiss her. To love her like he had wished to when they had been alive.

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the mirror. "I'm so sorry, my darling. I failed you. I promised you I would never lay a hand on you, and look what I've done. Every day in this accursed life, I lament my grievous transgressions. I have erred, and I must pay for all eternity. Still, I wish for you to forgive me so I can pass on and be properly punished for my sins in the Underworld."

A strange sensation in his forehead made him look at the mirror. To his surprise, a brilliant golden light burst forth and enveloped him in warmth and energy.

The baron clenched his eyes shut as something in his gut tugged and tugged and tugged…

A warm hand rubbed his stubbled jaw, and the baron's eyes snapped open. A gasp escaped his lips when he laid eyes on his beloved. "Helena…"

She looked ethereal. Like a goddess. A brilliant light hugged her body as if the sun itself had enveloped her in its golden arms. Like a child, the baron's hands reached up as if they could bathe in her light.

"Oh, Awiergan," she whispered, her breath caressing his face as she gazed up at him, her eyes filled with love and affection.

The baron's eyes prickled with tears at the absolute warmth emanating from her. "How—how is this possible? Is this real life… or is this just fantasy? Am I dreaming?"

Helena smiled, her eyes shining with adoration. She murmured, "No, my love. This is not a dream. I'm real, you're real… You belong here with me… with us." She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. To the baron's amazement, she said, "Awiergan, meet your heir... our son, Ozias."

"Salvation," the baron whispered, immediately translating the name in his head. He couldn't believe his sins were being forgiven. Tears streamed down his face as he got down on his knees and pressed his forehead to her belly. He kissed the baby bump and murmured, "My salvation..."

"Will you stay with us, my love? Are you finally home?"

The baron got to his feet and cupped Helena's face in his hands. "You are my home, Helena. You are all that I've ever wanted. Needed. I cannot bear to be apart from you any longer. I have been in love with you for centuries, my darling. But I am the cause of your demise. How can you even think of forgiving me when I myself can never forget what I did—"

"Your remorse for your actions is punishment enough, Awiergan. You have repented for your sins. It's time for you to come home."

"Then, I would love nothing more."

"Then, kiss me, my love, and let us join in spirit and be one," she whispered, stepping up onto her tiptoes. Her long brown locks framed her face beautifully, her skin was flushed, and there was a gleam of madness in her shimmering hazelnut-brown eyes.

The baron swooped in and claimed a kiss.

Outside the mirror dimension, his ghost's heavy chains disappeared; what had once been an unyielding weight, shackling him to the mortal plane, vanished as the golden light engulfed him. Slowly, inch by inch, the blood on his clothes began to vanish. The stains that had marked him as a violent, damaged man, lifting off as if they had never even been there.

The baron held his beloved in his arms, in awe of his changing fortunes. He didn't realise that outside the mirror, his ghost was fading from view like his body was the fog that was now fading as the wind blew in. He stayed still with his eyes closed, his hands held up in worship. A statue crumbling with the breeze.

The baron was finally at peace.