CW/TW: Non-graphic death. AGAIN REMINDER, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE A JENNETTE FAN/LOVER AS THE LANGUAGE USED IN THIS FIC IS CONSIDERED FOUL.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The resounding cheers of her people, of their people, made Athanasia's tears all the more beautiful as she wept for a day that had come at last.
If only Jennette had lived like she was dead in the Ruby palace, just as the Athanasia from before had done. But even then, where did that get Athanasia? Nowhere.
She had died a miserable death at the hands of Claude, her father- loveless to the core- and for a poisoning she hadn't even done.
That Athanasia, from before- had not plotted a single thing in a day of her life, the poor child.
People who had been tricked by her beautiful outer appearance scream at her, pelting rocks at her as she's led up to the guillotine.
Jennette sees Duke Alpheus, Ijekiel beside him, and she mouths, help me. They do not move.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Their faces were unmoving under her silent pleas. Ijekiel doesn't feel remorse for Jennette, having been forced to be her companion whilst growing up with her.
He hadn't ever time for himself until he had gone to the Academy in Arlanta, and even then, she continued to send letters, reminding him that when he returned to Obelia, he would be faced with her in his home.
When he had thought of her inserting herself into the Imperial family, and claiming her right to the throne, he found himself gripping a gold banister and retching up his stomach contents into the nearby bushes.
Hunching over that day, he blankly stared into the world that would become Jennette's and his very being seemed to roil with discomfort and disgust.
She could never be allowed to take control of Obelia, she could never be allowed to become the Empress regnant of the empire.
She would ruin them all.
Likewise, his father standing beside him with an untouchable expression within his golden eyes, feels that the jagged pieces have fallen into place for their empire and family.
And they move further away until their silver hair blends away into the monochrome crowd, and they disappear. A tear falls from her eye, and she knows, she will never see them again.
The end is the beginning and the beginning is the end of Ariadne's thread that she has spun from the silk of time, do not look further down that abyss for it will swallow you whole and never spit you out.
For everything and everyone has their own destiny. It is the only thing that will take it from being null.
The bitch's dress sparkles under the light, the dark mourning outfit contrasting to fath- to uncle's- no, to the emperor's golden uniform.
