The relief that slammed into Liliana was staggering, robbing her of breath even as it stole the strength that had held her up. She’d been running so long on hate and spite that knowing it was finally over sapped the bit of energy she had. Her head hung low, her thick hair hiding her face in silver and black curtains, thankfully, as the crazed grin that spread across her face was not an appropriate reaction to have right now.

Not that it really mattered. Her father had already burst out of the room mere seconds after the scream had reached them. His speed would’ve been terrifying and humbling if Liliana could feel anything other than intoxicating relief. Liliana’s hands came up and wiped at her face, coming away wet with tears she hadn’t realized she’d been shedding.

‘Come on! We’re going to miss the best part!’ Polaris called from his position by the door, his wings half spread and his tails flailing wildly in his excitement. A small giggle escaped Liliana as she shook her head. She rubbed roughly at her face, scrubbing the tears and the grin from it. She adopted as worried an expression as she could, but it was difficult to fit a mask in place when she wanted to scream in excitement and simultaneously collapse to sleep for a week straight.

But nothing in this world was going to stop her from seeing Imogen in chains. She needed to have that mental image, something to keep her warm on winter nights. So Liliana stood, tossing her hair back and forcing her face to obey, widening her eyes and letting her mouth open slightly as she rushed out of the room. If she was rushing in excitement and not fear, well, no one had to know that but her and Polaris.

It was a wild, reckless sprint through the manor, the both of them skidding on the ground and hitting walls as they tried to get to Imogen’s room in time to see her. Servants were either running away from the screaming which grew in volume the closer they got, or running towards the sound in curiosity. Liliana had no qualms with shoving servants out of her way, and based on the yelps and shouts, she knew Polaris was using his teeth to get them out of his way.

Their movement slowed to a halt as they reached the corridor that Imogen’s room was in, the crowd of guards and servants too thick to shove aside easily. It didn’t stop Liliana as she started shouldering away those who did not move out of her way quickly enough. Their cries of indignation died away when they caught sight of Polaris following behind her, teeth bared in threat to anyone who even looked at Liliana.

Liliana cleared most of the gathering crowd just in time to see the first Inquisitor emerge from Imogen’s room, the man’s clothing ruffled and the new scratches on his face already healing. Liliana’s father followed afterwards and for the first time in her memory, she saw him looking confused and uncertain.

“What do you mean, you found the culprit? There’s a mistake, surely,” the duke said and Liliana coughed as the air became thicker. Her father was losing control of his aura. The Inquisitor whirled around, his eyes flashing, and Liliana felt her knees weaken, her arm whipping out to wrap around Polaris’ neck to hold herself upright. One aura was hard enough to handle, two at a time was too much.

“Control yourself, Duke Rosengarde before I do it for you,” the Inquisitor hissed out a warning, and the feeling of his aura increased but it felt more focused than her father’s, Liliana’s knees strengthened even as her father’s seemed to buckle. Liliana watched in wide-eyed delight as the Inquisitor used his own aura to control her father’s. She hadn’t even realized you could do that with an aura.

“Yes, of course. I apologize for my slip in control,” the duke said through clenched teeth. The Inquisitor glared at him for a moment longer before retracting his aura. The entire corridor breathed in relief and Liliana realized belatedly that many of the servants had fallen to the ground, unable to stand with two auras competing.

“But surely there must be a mistake of some kind. My wife cannot possibly be the culprit. Why is she in chains?” Frederick seemed to regain his tongue at the same time as he regained control of his aura.

“A confession of guilt is enough to convict. You know the laws, Duke Rosengarde,” the Inquisitor spoke and Liliana had to cover her mouth to hide the grin. It had worked! It really worked!

“Confession? What are you talking about?” Frederick Rosengarde asked, eyes wide in shock. Liliana soaked up the expression. Seeing her normally unflappable and emotionless father lose his composure was almost as satisfying as seeing Imogen in chains.

“Ask her yourself, she was very forthcoming and detailed in her admissions of guilt,” the Inquisitor said as he motioned with a hand. Seconds later the last two Inquisitors emerged. Imogen was held tightly between them despite the manacles wrapped around her wrists.

Liliana had to clap another hand to her face to muffle the wild laughter that wanted to break free. The tears on her face were from joy, but anyone looking would hopefully think it was despair. Imogen’s normally perfect visage was ruined, her hair wild and half undone. Her priceless dress was ripped and singed, her skin held welts and cuts that were slower to heal than the Inquisitor’s own wounds. She still fought, struggling ineffectively against the man and woman holding onto her, screams emerging from her as if she was some wild beast caught in a hunter’s trap.

“You can’t do this! I’m the Duchess! Unhand me! I’ll have your heads, all of you!” Imogen screeched, teeth barring in what was probably meant to be a ferocious way, but only served to make her look unhinged.

“Imogen, what is the meaning of this?” Frederick asked, approaching his wife. The Inquisitors stopped, barely seeming to notice the struggles of the noblewoman in they held.

“Frederick! Frederick help me! Kill them!” Imogen turned wide, panicked, golden eyes to her husband.

“Is it true? Did you try to kill Liliana?” Frederick asked, his tone slowly growing more icy as he spoke, though the thread of disbelief was still there. Liliana held her breath, awaiting the answer.

“Yes!” the word sounded like it was being dragged out of her mouth, but it unlocked the floodgates and more words tumbled out after it.

“That disgusting little bitch was a threat to my position! My power! She deserved to die, but she couldn’t even do that right! I poisoned her, hired bandits, assassins and still she couldn’t just roll over and die like the animal she is. I poisoned her food, but the stupid servant couldn’t guarantee that the filthy bitch drank it, so instead her useless whore of a maid died.” Imogen spat the words and Liliana felt familiar rage filling her, tinged with sadness.

It was stupid, but some small, minuscule part of her had hoped she was wrong. That it wasn’t her stepmother trying to kill her. It was an irrational hope, when she knew Imogen was trying to kill her. But she had never been able to kill that small bit of hope that her stepmother didn’t hate her enough to kill her.

But stronger than the sadness was the rage. It filled her, boiling her blood and burning her from the inside out. Fueled to higher heights by Polaris’ own hate and rage rampaging through their bond. The admission of how Imogen really felt about her, the easy way she spoke of how she’d made Liliana’s last year a living hell, incensed her. The words she’d used to describe Astrid tipped Liliana over the edge.

Imogen opened her mouth to continue spilling her vitriol into the air when a loud crack sounded out. Liliana started the sudden, unexpected movement, having shocked her enough to keep her from launching herself at her stepmother. The duke’s hand was still raised and Imogen’s head was tilted sharply to the side, blood dribbling out of her mouth.

“Take her away,” Frederick said, his voice frigid. He stepped back, summoning a handkerchief to clean his hand as he looked at his wife in disgust.

Imogen did not rouse from her shock, head still hanging to the side as she was slowly dragged towards the crowd. Liliana stepped aside with the rest of them, but as her eyes met Imogen’s, the woman went from docile to rabid in seconds.

“You! You little bitch! This is all your fault!” Imogen snarled and spat, struggling against the hands holding her as she tried to lunge at Liliana.

“I spent years trying to crush that spark of light in your eyes, yet still you refused to end your life! If you’d just killed yourself like I wanted, this wouldn’t be happening! Why won’t you just die?!” Imogen hissed, and Liliana took a step back, not entirely prepared for the hate in Imogen’s eyes and voice. She’d never in her life had someone look at her like they wanted her dead. No. Not dead. Imogen wanted her to suffer, to beg and plead for death. She could read it in her molten gold eyes.

“M-Mother?” a voice called out, broken and confused, and Liliana’s head whipped to the side, her hands falling from her face.

“No,” Liliana breathed as her eyes found Alistair, standing at the end of the corridor, the path now clear, with the servants and guards pushed against the walls. She’d hoped he wouldn’t see this, hoped against logic and reason that somehow he’d be spared this pain.

“Alistair! My darling boy! Help your mother, like I raised you to,” Imogen’s head whipped to stare at her son, an almost insane light to her eyes as she crooned her words to Alistair. The boy took a stumbling step back, head shaking, and Liliana could see his heart breaking in his tear-filled eyes.

“I don’t. Is it true? Is what you said about trying to kill Liliana true?” Alistair asked and Liliana watched as his he began to shake, tears spilling out of his eyes as he spoke.

“Did you try to kill my sister?!” Alistair demanded.

“Why does it matter if I did? She’s not your sister, Alistair. She’s a dirty half blood, a threat. Don’t you understand Alistair? I did all of this for you. For us. So we could be here, be happy together. So I would have power. She was a threat to your power, to my power. So I was getting rid of her for us!” Imogen tried to convince her son of her logic. With every word, Liliana could almost hear the sound of Alistair’s heart shattering, disbelief etched into his face even as tears streamed down it.

“No.” Alistair said, shaking his head, hands raising to his ears as if he could block out the words his mother spoke.

“Alistair! You will obey your mother! I raised you to listen to me, so obey me and get these degenerates off of me!” Imogen’s voice was raising into a screech again, and Alistair stepped back, face torn between fear and despair as he stared at his mother.

“Silence,” a voice called out and with that Imogen’s screeches were cut off abruptly, though her mouth was still open. Her mouth moved, taking a moment to understand her ability to speak had been removed. Her struggles increased when she realized what had happened, but it was like the woman was fighting against brick walls.

“We need to leave now. If anyone wishes to speak to Duchess Imogen Rosengarde, they may set up an appointment with the royal family,” the female Inquisitor, the one who had silenced Imogen, spoke up to the crowd. With that, the two Inquisitors moved forward once more.

“Mommy?” a small voice called out and Liliana turned her head, heart breaking even as she did. Her eyes finally fell to two small children holding onto the skirts of an older woman, a nanny. Beatrice and Blaine Rosengarde, her two half siblings. Liliana had never met them in person, had never been allowed to or seen a reason to seek them out. But now they stood there before her for the first time, and they looked frightfully young. Too young to understand anything that was happening, too young to see their mother being dragged out in chains.

“Get them out of here.” the duke ordered, turning to the nanny, anger clear on his face and in his voice.

“Mommy!” Beatrice cried, trying to run after her mother, who was being dragged out, the Inquisitors not caring enough to stop for any more dramatics. The little girl tripped in front of Liliana and, without thinking, she swooped down and plucked up the toddler before she could hit the ground.

“Let go! Mommy! I want my mommy!” the little girl beat her small fists against Liliana as she struggled to follow her mother, Blaine was held in the nanny’s arms as he wailed his own confused tears into her embrace. Liliana only tightened her grip and held onto her younger sibling, her heart breaking.

She’d done the right thing. The only thing she could do. But she hadn’t been prepared to see the fallout. For seeing a child crying for her mother. For knowing she had ripped a mother away from her children, the way her own mothers had been taken from her. Because Imogen might have been the villain in Liliana’s story, but to Blaine and Beatrice she had just been their mother. The person who gave them warm hugs and wiped up their tears.

“I’m sorry,” Liliana whispered to Beatrice, knowing the girl wouldn’t understand. Not today. One day, perhaps soon, she would. She’d understand that Liliana was the reason she and her twin grew up without a mother. Liliana was certain the servants would ensure the twins knew the story, and with how disliked she was by the manor servants, she was certain the tale wouldn’t paint her in a favourable light. Maybe they’d hate her. She’d expect nothing less. She wouldn’t fault them for it, either.

She’d made the right choice. But it didn’t mean there wouldn’t be consequences, and as Beatrice stopped struggling and began to cry, Liliana finally understood. Sometimes doing the right thing didn’t mean no one got hurt. When the villain was captured, someone would hurt. Because everyone was something to someone. And sometimes, the hero in one person’s tale was the villain in someone else’s. There wasn’t always a ‘good’ choice to make, just one that would mean the least amount of hurt.

Liliana held onto her half sister, stroking her back even as the girl’s tears soaked her dress. Her eyes inevitably traveled to her father, who was watching her with an unreadable expression, and Liliana knew this wouldn’t be the last time she made her half siblings cry. By the time she was done, she’d have them left without any parents.

Would it be better for them? She thought it would. Not having to grow up with a narcissistic mother like Imogen, who only saw her children as pawns to use for her own power, unafraid of scarring them if it guaranteed their loyalty to her. It would be better if they didn’t have to learn of their father’s cold negligence and lack of care towards his own children, unless those children became something that could grant him more power. But would they ever realize their life without their parents would be far better than the life they’d have with them?

Liliana doubted it. Doubted they’d ever really understand. She knew with a certainty bordering on precognition that her half siblings would never forgive her once they learned what she’d done, what she was going to do. She would be stealing their parents from them, perhaps not killing them, but ensuring they wouldn’t be around for them all the same.

As her heart ached with this knowledge of the pain she would be responsible for, she handed Beatrice back to her nanny. Liliana stepped back and slumped against a wall, hand raised to rub at her chest as if she could massage away the pain. She knew she wouldn’t change her course. Couldn’t change it. For all the pain she knew she would cause, for all she knew how it would break her own heart to see Blaine and Beatrice cry for parents she’d rob them of, she couldn’t stop.

Her anger, her satisfaction and glee, it was gone. Washed away by the tears of two small children who were losing her mother. All that was left was a bone deep exhaustion that wanted to drag her down.