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I looked at her, lying on the grass. Her dark brown eyes now fading and her beautiful, long, black hair spread around her head, like ebony rays of sun. Her hand was covering the place where I had infected her.

That seemed a rather odd word to describe what I had just done. Infection.

It somehow lessened the guilt I had. The remorse for my actions.

I remembered her mother’s request. The last thing she would ever ask of me, she had said.

Bring my child home, Uther,” her voice shaking. “Bring her back to me, please.

The next minute I was on a shore in the North of the Kingdom of Francia. I knew exactly where she was. But still, I had to go the rest of the way on horseback.

The laws of Apparition were very clear and strict; One cannot go any further than the kingdom next to his own. I knew this well because I had helped shape the rules

I didn’t mind this. I was doing it not only for her mother, but also for myself.

Now here I was, a week later, staring at her. She was staring back at me. The hatred in her eyes was still visible, haunting me. I had to look away, it was too much to bear.

I don’t want to go back!” she had said only moments earlier. “I will never go back to her perfect world. She will never see me, or her beloved Diadem ever again!”

Then do it for me,” I pleaded, hoping that our engagement would mean something to her.

“I never wanted to wed you,” she laughed with disgust. “It was an arranged marriage. Arranged by her, of course. I never loved you!

And here I stand, only moments later. Thinking about what I had just done.

Infection couldn’t help any longer. Now I could see the consequences for my actions.

I did infect her, with my quick and hot temper. My evilness and dark soul. I wonder if I ever had any soul in me at all. No wonder she never loved me.

No wonder no one ever loved me.

I looked at my hands and clothes. Pieces of her were covering me. Pieces of her soul, now infecting me. I picked up the blade I had left next to her. It seemed rather small, for the damage it had just done.

No, not it. The damage I had just made. For the evilness wasn’t on the blade, but on the person using it.

It burnt hot in my hand. I felt compelled to drop it again, but I couldn’t let go of it. I felt it vibrate, as if it were alive.

I knew what it wanted. Its work was not over yet. I watched, in horror, as it approached me. The parts of the iron that weren’t unstained by the blood reflected the sun, blinding me for a second. I felt a soft whisper, but there was no one besides me and her. It was the blade, it was calling after me.

I tried, in vain, to push it away, to drop it once more. But now it was as if it was part of my hand, of my body. I tried to run from it, but my legs wouldn’t move.

I felt a sharp pain in my stomach and a tear escaped my eye. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She didn’t deserve this.

The knife finally fell to the ground and suddenly I could move again. I ran as fast and as far as I could, away from the body of my beloved Helena, until I felt my own body weaken. I sat against a tree and closed my eyes.

The guilt for what I had done would never leave me. It would haunt me forever and wherever I went.


A/N: YAY for my first one-shot (and only story set on complete =P). I'd like to thank Broomsticks for betaing this and tell_me_what_the_truth_is (Marina), lovlyrita and WeasleyTwinMom for checking over this and helping me with the edits.

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