AN:

Ok, so I said one more chapter (plus prologue). Well, I realise this is really late already, but uni is just... yeah... So anyway, this is not the last chapter because I split it. the actual last chapter will probably be really short, but i didn't want to let you wait another week or so. So here you go.

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Reader: Yeah, we'll see... not sure what else to say for now. :) Anyway, thanks for reading and commenting! Hope you're still hanging around and won't find the rest too awful ;)

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So, as always:

Happy reading! :3

xoxo MLE

The Final Fall

That was the last conversation Galynda would ever have with Millifen. Her friend didn't return to help her undress that night, and the following morning, an elderly maid delivered her breakfast. As it turned out, the cranky woman's weathered visage would be the only face she got to see for at least another five weeks. When a footman finally came to escort her out of her room, she was disappointed, although not all too surprised, when she realised that their short trip once again ended in her father's audience chamber.

The first thing she noticed when she saw her father, was how much he had aged in mere weeks. His skin looked ashen and his eyes were sunken in. Breaking off the marriage arrangements with a wealthy and influential city family must have been quite a setback for his grand schemes. For a clock tick, she felt guilty, but then she recalled that perhaps it served him right. She hoped that he looked like this because he felt guilty, too. Yet in her heart, she knew that the chances for this to be the case were slim to say the least.

"Galynda."

He waved her closer and she complied without hesitation. When her father offered her a seat beside his podium, however, she became sceptical.

"Sit," he repeated his order firmly, but not all too harshly. So she sat, her eyes fixed on him, warily.

"Gentlemen."

Her attention was immediately drawn to a small group of six unknown men, who must have been standing amongst the Margreave's staff and counsellors since before she had even entered. They stepped forward, their eyes staring grimly out of their severe and scarred faces. Galynda had no idea what to make out of this and only hoped that the guessing game would end sooner rather than later.

"Five weeks ago, my daughter, your lady in waiting once again requested to talk to me confidentially," the Margreave began to explain. "I sent her away several times, for I was tired of hearing of a matter so utterly pointless."

Galynda bit her lip and cautiously scanned the room out of the corners of her eyes. Even now, Millifen was nowhere to be seen. No matter what had happened between the two women, the she could still feel the bond between them, however fragile it was. She only hoped that her friend, her sister by heart, hadn't gotten into too much trouble because of her.

"But she persisted," her father acknowledged with a certain measure of respect. "Seeing how determined she was, I eventually allowed her to tell her little tale. It was an absurd one to put it mildly, yet anyone who has children will understand what odd things a father's love to his blood will make him do."

Galynda struggled to keep an even expression. Clearly, her and her father's definition of love and varied somewhat. Still, she had to admit that it seemed rather out of character for the old man to waste his time with stories he didn't want to hear.

"Lady Millifen told me of this lover of yours," the Margreave continued, then paused - either for dramatic effect, or because he simply wanted to gauge her reaction, Galynda couldn't quite tell.

Perhaps she was less surprised than he had expected. Five weeks had been ample time to consider all sorts of scenarios and what the grand plan was that her friend had conceived. If Millifen had merely told him about the fact that she had fallen in love and shared her body with a woman, things wouldn't be too bad, she decided. Although the presence of these men gave her an uncomfortable feeling in her gut, warning her that there must be more to this.

"She convinced me that this woman's testimony might help to prove your innocence, or at least provide further clues as to how your unfortunate condition came about. She was able to provide me with quite detailed directions, and touched by her commitment I decided that, as your father, I could not be outdone by her love for you. So I hired a few old friends of mine to retrieve the Lady of the Waterfall."

A small chuckle gurgled up from his throat and a few of the attendants joined in. Galynda began to whip her head around, nervously. How much did they know about Aelphaba? Was she waiting somewhere in the shadows of this room? What had they done to her? Was she fettered and manacled? Were they holding her in some dark cell? No, Aelphaba wouldn't even be able to leave her Munchkinland grove! What if these men had forcefully taken her away, causing her to fall ill, or even die! The cheerful mood of the people around her turned into more than mild amusement at her cost. The glee of the onlookers was not only mocking her, it was choking her. If any harm had come to her love, she would never forgive herself.

With a reverberating harrumph, her father restored quiet in the audience chamber.

"As you can easily see, she is not here. Now let us listen to what these gentlemen have to say to this."

She swallowed hard and clutched the armrests of her chair as the men inclined their heads and the Margreave nodded for them to speak.

"My Lord.

"We found the cave we were sent out to find. Or at least we are rather confident that we did. Every detail was exactly as described – the clearing, the waterfall, the small village nearby; we even found wild vine winding its way up the cliffs. But when we entered the cave, there was no sign of life, or recent occupation."

A small gasp escaped Galynda's lips as her hands flew up to soothe the racing heart beating in her aching chest. How was this possible? These men must have been to the wrong cave, or maybe, they had simply not been able to find the right chamber? After all, except for Aelphaba's living quarters, the remaining passages and tunnels and hollows were uninhabited.

"We discovered one chamber, situated right behind the veil of the waterfall," another man continued and out of the sudden, Galynda's heart almost stopped "Someone had clearly left their mark there, though everything was scattered and covered with a thick layer of dust."

Galynda's hands clawed at the fabric of her dress, long nails digging deep into delicate fabric. None of this made any sense. For just the briefest moment, she considered the possibility that Aelphaba had left her cave to look for her, to be with her –

This minuscule flare of hope was extinguished almost immediately, however, when her memory - not quite gently – once again reminded her of Aelphaba's inability to leave her waterfall. And even if she had found a way to overcome the spell, there was still a great assortment of other, far more ridiculous, reasons this obstinate woman had used to argue that their relationship had no future. Galynda sunk back into her chair, clenching her fists even tighter as the pain became progressively worse.

"Are you all right Galynda?"

The young lady jumped a little and her head snapped up. Her father's expression was a strange blend of severity, concern and annoyance. Was her inner turmoil that obvious? She primly cleared her throat and slowly corrected her posture griping the armrests of her chair instead of the dress to keep herself upright.

"I am fine, Father," she replied quietly and, after adding a brief nod, directed her attention back to the group of men. She noticed some of them casting her uneasy side-glances. They almost appeared to be spooked by her.

"Please go on," the Margreave prompted to break the silence.

The man furthest to the back stepped forward, fiddling with a canvas bag.

"This was the only item of interest we found," he announced rather hoarsely and produced a mighty, leather-bound book from his bag

He stepped up the podium and kneeled before the Margreave, presenting him with the hefty tome. The Margreave inspected the cover briefly, then harshly threw the book open. Anxiously, Galynda craned her neck in an attempt to see, but the armrests of her father's chair blocked most of her view. All she could see was the quickly deepening frown on his strained face. He snapped the volume shut with a loud thud and motioned for the man to pass it on to his daughter.

"Have you ever seen this book before?"

She rose to stand on wobbly legs and reached out with eager, albeit trembling hands. Her eyes were fixated on the filthy cover of the book. It did look like the Grimmerie, but she had never seen it in such a horrid condition, so she wasn't quite certain yet. In fact, she didn't want to be certain, for she didn't want it to be true. She silently sent a desperate prayer to Lurline that this was nothing but some old manuscript someone had intentionally, or accidentally left behind in some cave that just happened to have some resemblance with Aelphaba's. Even as these thoughts ran through her head, she knew that this was nonsense.

As soon as she held the volume in her own hands, the familiarity hit her like a landslide, and she heavily fell back into the chair. She could have recognised this book blindly, simply by feeling its weight. As she gently brushed over the cover, more of the golden embellishments revealed themselves. It was the Grimmerie and there was no doubt about it. They had indeed found Aelphaba's cave, strangely deserted, it seemed. Panic gripped Galynda as she tried to find explanations for how these men had come into possession of an item Aelphaba would never have left behind or surrendered.

"What is this, Galynda?" her father demanded. "What is it with this baneful thing that I cannot read a single word?"

Galynda's hands tightened around the Grimmerie as she thought of an answer. Her reaction had already betrayed her – that much was obvious. There was no denying that she knew this book. At first, she intended to simply speak the truth, but a clock tick later, she thought better of it. Her father was upset enough as it was, and since she had yet to find out about Aelphaba's fate, she decided to play it save.

"Father, there is no need to be so troubled. It's only an old religious text, written by prophets serving a deity long forgotten."

The lie came strangely easily to her, almost as though it wasn't her, but the book itself speaking through her. Nervously, Galynda cast a quick look downward. What else would the Grimmerie make her say? Before she could think much more on it, she already heard herself continue.

"Ancient magic protects its wisdom and being able to read as little as one line is a rare gift."

"Can you read any of it?" her father asked apprehensively.

She bit her lip and in her mind, begged the book to provide her with an innocuous response.

"No," she finally said of her own accord, as the Grimmerie appeared to have forsaken her request. "Aelphaba knew how to read it though, and studied it vigorously."

"If you cannot read it, how do you know it is harmless?" the Margreave challenged and Galynda cursed the perfidious book for not helping her out earlier. She swallowed hard and gave the Grimmerie a chance to change its mind again.

"Aelphaba read to me. The words, although foreign, made me feel peaceful and tranquil. No evil could possibly come from such gentle psalms."

It was true that her heart would rejoice, no matter what Aelphaba would read to her, even if it were the directory. Although the Grimmerie might have put this general assumption to a hard test if they had ever tried this. Whenever Galynda had read the book just by herself, a small shudder would run down her spine. And whenever she had been brave enough to attempt casting a spell, pain would shoot through one part of her body, or another. For the first couple of times at least – the pain diminished slightly with practice.

Luckily her father, albeit not entirely convinced by her lie, put the matter of the mysterious book aside for the time being.

"So is this all you came to report on?" he asked the men, who seemed uncertain about how to reply.

"Yes, my lord," the one who had spoken first finally admitted. "There was nothing else of value or interest to be found. We didn't assume that you wished for us to retrieve a pile of old bones."

"Bones!" the Margreave thundered and about everyone in the audience chamber flinched.

"Yes, bones, my lord," the man nodded. "A hand was still tightly gripping the tome, the rest lay in a jumbled pile all around it."

Galynda's ears had barely caught half of the account. Bones and tome were the only words she could remember hearing. Already, she was feeling faint. Sounds around her were rapidly altering between near silence and an unbearable cacophony of noise. Her vision was equally inclined to focus and unfocus, making her sway in her seat like after too many cups of some strong liquor. She held on to the Grimmerie in the hope it would keep her grounded, but instead, it only sucked her in deeper and deeper. A strange energy had begun to flow from the book through her hands and diffusing in her system. With that energy first came a sense of ill boding, followed by a cruel certainty. When her little heart couldn't take it anymore, she trembling slid off her chair.

When she eventually woke up, she didn't have the willpower to open her eyes. She didn't need to in order to know where she was – she was in her big, feathery bed. The silken sheets and the soft pillows were easy enough to recognise. Further, the smell of Gillikin roses by the window was a sure telltale sign. Those were her last pleasant thoughts before the overwhelming pain struck her.

Exhaling labouredly, she fought the urge to cry out when a dagger bore through her chest. The piercing sensation quickly gained intensity. She gasped, struggling for air and desperately digging her nails into the mattress. In truth, there was no dagger. It was her crushing emotions overrunning her head and every other inch of her body. What had started out as a feeling of weary emptiness had soon turned into absolute hopelessness and desolation, threatening to tear her heart apart. Quite literally. Theoretically, the potion the old witch had given her was supposed to protect her from this to occur, yet this was different. Being separated from her love was one thing; losing her so entirely and absolutely irrevocably was a very different matter altogether.

That she managed catching yet another breath of air was close to a small miracle. The pain by now had become so all-consuming, that her very flash seemed as though it were on fire. She cried out this time, hoping for some relief, but not the slightest sound escaped her strangled throat. If she had to perish, how much longer would it take until this was finally over? As she was still young, she had never spent much time in her life pondering on silly notions about an afterlife. All she could think of now was the dismal awareness that there was no such thing and that all those who had ever told that her loved ones would await her there had been fools, or liars.

Yet she didn't die. After several frightful moments, the first few tears rolled down her cheeks, heralding the torrents that were to come.

She sobbed in quiet, her eyes still closed. She was still hurting, but the salty drops helped her to cope. Bit by bit, they took away the worst of the stinging pain and her heart began to beat stronger in relief. Hours passed, and by the end of the day, all she was left with was woeful grief. It would be with her till her very end, she knew, but she would learn to live with it.

Most importantly, she would live.

Startled by this realisation, Galynda twitched once and opened her eyes. Her frowned stare didn't leave the ceiling for a good while. Too confusing were the thoughts tumbling thorough her muddled head. Why did the notion of her survival suddenly feel so strangely profound to her? She would live to carry and birth and raise her child – that's all that seemed important now, but she couldn't explain why.

The child had never mattered to her before, as it had caused her nothing but trouble and pain. Its very existence was inexplicable, unexpected, and above all, undesired. Even after her pregnancy had been confirmed, she had lived in denial, trying not to think of the wee creature growing within her womb. She had been almost certain that her father would order her to get rid of it and clearly remembered growing more irritated by the day as the demand was never made. Now that she knew of the mission he had sent those men on, this finally made sense. And she was grateful, she found. The relief she felt blooming in her chest the more she considered this, was overwhelming. It almost succeeded in drowning out the infinite sadness she felt at the ultimate loss of her love. Almost.

She pushed herself up to a sitting position, dazedly scanning her room, unaware of the hand resting tenderly on the small bump of her stomach. The old maid who had taken care of her the past few weeks was sitting in a stuffed chair by her bed, knitting. As she watched the woman working on what looked like a night cap, so entirely unfazed, Galynda wondered how much of her struggle had been physical, and how much she had experienced only in her head. She had to clear her voice for the servant to even take notice of her. Once the zealous hands had stopped fiddling with the wool and the needles, an annoyed look was cast her way.

Muttering unintelligibly, the maid wiggled off her chair to pick up a small bottle from the nearby end table, counting three drops of a sanguine liquid as they plopped into a porcelain cup.

"Here," she croaked, passing the drink to Galynda.

The young lady inspected the liquid cautiously. It was tea. The drops had coloured it blood-red. Her over-sensitive nose picked up an unknown smell. The smell of death, her subconscious warned her.

"Three drops, three times a day," the old woman told her. "That should get rid of the problem in no time. Sometimes of the woman, too, but the young and health usually stand a good chance."

Galynda stared at her. She placed the cup on her bedside table and folded her hands over her abdomen.

"I wish to speak to my father."

The maid rolled her eyes.

"His lordship will not see you," she huffed and turned her back.

She headed for the bedroom door. Where was she going? Was she looking for help to force the poisonous tea down her throat? Trembling slightly, Galynda slipped out of her bed, unsure how to defend herself should her suspicions be proven right.

The maid soon re-entered the room, holding a bag in her arthritic hands.

"This contains a purse of money, a few modest clothes and provisions. It's this, or the elixir."

It took the blonde barely a second to decide. Her hear in her throat, but knowing it was the only right thing to do, she snatched the bag away from the maid.

"So this is how it's going to be," the woman sighed, uncharacteristically woeful. "Well, if you're sure, you foolish child, I shall show you the way to the servant exit. His lordship wishes not to see you leave."

"What about the book?" Galynda asked as if she didn't care at all about her father.

"What about the book?" the maid echoed.

"I would like to keep it. Where can I find it?"

"As far as I am informed, the men who brought it here, took it away again. Certainly, his lordship does not wish to retain such a devilish artefact."

The younger woman's shoulders dropped. She had no idea what she wanted with the Grimmerie, but she did know she want it.

"Now come, silly girl," the woman said and turned her back without any further comment.

Galynda followed the old maid, the bag tightly pressed against her chest. When the door was pushed open for her and the maid silently nodded her goodbye, she paused. She wasn't going to change her mind, but it was impossible to take this final step without contemplating her past within, and her future outside these familiar walls. Tightening her grip on her bag as if taking encouragement from a new friend and companion, she bobbed her head towards the maid and stepped over the threshold.

Her eyes never leaving their goal, she briskly marched across the courtyard, towards the overgrown arch. The sooner she was out of there, the sooner she could start her new life. She would forget all about being a Margreave's daughter and her fall from grace. She would start over and then it would only be her, her memories of Aelphaba, and soon, their child. Her life wouldn't be great, but it would be better, she told herself over and over again.

"Wait!"

A strong hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. Not appreciating the delay of what she had hoped to be a quick departure, Galynda scowled at the young man, who she recognised as one of the stable boys. She had never learnt his name, but that hardly mattered anymore now.

"Don't hold me back, I'm no longer wanted here, so I do not intend to linger."

"I understand, my lady, but-"

"I'm no longer your lady," she snapped.

The stable boy scratched his arm sheepishly.

"Of course."

A wry smile appeared on Galynda's face.

"Good. Now that we got this out of the way, please excuse me."

Barely had she spoken the last word, she had already turned around again, determined to leave before anyone else would try and stop her. The young man, however, was persistent and lunged forward, grasping her wrist.

"You wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to your horse, would you?" he said, winking with one eye.

Although irritated enough to huff at him, she already felt her resolve wane. It was stupid and sentimental, but she had to admit that she would like seeing Mauve one last time.

"Fine," she ground out between her teeth. "Lead the way, but hurry if you don't want to lose finger or two."

The foolish boy only grinned and grabbed her hand as though he wasn't sure she would actually come with him.

When they reached her horse's stall, she found the animal all tacked up and ready for a ride.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked with wide eyes. The stable boy was already a few feet away, about to slink off.

"He is yours," he shrugged. "And I didn't see anything anyway."

Galynda took the reins, but hesitated.

"Come on already, you're running out of time! Don't overthink this. No one is going to chase you for the horse. Your father wouldn't risk drawing any more attention to the matter."

"Yes, of course…"

Smiling faintly, the blonde unhooked the chain from the stallion's bridle and led him out of the stall. Her hands trembling a little, her first attempts of mounting the tall horse failed, but soon she sat firmly in the saddle and urged Mauve forward.