The Penultimate Peril
Title: Goodbye
Genre: Tragic (Did you expect anything else from me in a prompt that says death?)
Characters: Rabastan Lestrange, Rosalind Bungs, Charlie Weasley, Lord Voldemort, Vasilis Komnenos, various Bungs, random death eaters galore
Rating: PG-13, for character death and stuff
Word Count: 2494 words
Summary: Rabastan is about to realize the seriousness of his actions.
Author's Notes: Subject Line shamelessly stolen from Lemony Snickett's A Series Of Unfortunate Events, which I do own (all 13, yes). Written for my Rab/Ros Prompt Table: #12. Death. I tried my very best not to make it too depressing because I love you.
Oh, and when you start asking yourself: "Why, what happened?" The answers to that question are: "Use your imagination" and "You don't really want to know".
Bellatrix was stretched out on a lounge chair in her home. She was inspecting her nails, quite bored, when the door opened behind her. She sat up and looked around. She smiled as she saw her brother-in-law come in. He looked exhausted. She beckoned him in with an almost eager hand. This, in itself, was surprising.
"How did your mission go?" she asked, just the slightest bit of jealousy in her voice. After all, she was the loyal servant. She should have been singled out for some important mission.
"Satisfactorily," was all Rabastan had to say on the subject. "And what have you been doing in my absence?"
"Just one raid," Bellatrix replied with a small smile.
"Ah. Where is Rodolphus?"
Bellatrix rolled her eyes contemptuously. "Still mourning."
"Mourning?"
"Yes, with Evan."
"You'd be mourning too, if you had any heart," Evan said as he came in. He nodded to Rabastan and went to stand by the fireplace. "Till ran to Rod the moment you arrived."
"What are we mourning?" Rabastan asked as he sat down, sighing from exhaustion. The mission had been difficult and wearisome.
"Death. Murder."
"It isn't like you to talk in riddles, Evan," Rabastan frowned.
"Remember Uncle Vasilis?" Evan asked. He waited for Rabastan to nod sleepily before continuing. "The Dark Lord wanted him to join us. Help gather forces in France and Greece and Russia and all the places he's been..."
"And he wouldn't because Aunt Ophelie's husband is a Muggle," Rodolphus said as he joined them. He looked worse than Rabastan felt, which was saying something.
"And?" Rabastan asked, his voice steady. However, he already had a clear idea of what had happened.
"The Dark Lord sent us to provide him with some leverage."
"We went to take the Muggle and Aunt Ophelie. But Alphonse was there. Who the fuck knew that kid was such a duelist?" Rodolphus hung his head. "Had to kill the lot of them."
Bellatrix laughed cruelly. Evan looked at her, disgusted. "Well, congratulations, Rabastan. You've exceeded my expectations. I thought you'd have bolted from your chair and been halfway there by now," she teased, looking at him with her dark eyes.
"Whatever for? You've killed her," he didn't bother to pretend not knowing who Bellatrix was talking about. Everyone knew the affair he'd had. "Even if I did care for her, the effort would be useless now."
Rodolphus looked at his brother quietly. Evan was the first to break the silence. "Well, I, for one, genuinely liked her."
A piercing scream ran through the house and filled every corner, crack and crevice.
Rabastan entered the room together with his brother and his brother's wife. The room was dark and somber. Six or seven other people were already inside, including the Dark Lord himself. They all wore their masks, so it was difficult to tell, but if Rabastan had to guess, the one by the fireplace was Rookwood and the one nearest to the Dark Lord was his father. The others...possibly Dolohov, Evan and Nikolai. He pondered momentarily at the odd mix of people in the room before Voldemort began to speak to the fireplace. It was only then he noticed his Uncle Vasilis' head looking steadily back at their master.
"One last chance, Vasilis," the Dark Lord hissed. "You may regret this decision."
"You've already killed all of them, what more could you do to me?" Vasilis growled. "Your cowardly assasins were lucky enough that Ophelie was not there or they'd be the ones dead! They only murdered those that could not fight back!"
Rabastan looked intently at the fireplace. So Ophelie was alive?
Voldemort laughed softly. "You have that much faith in your children?"
"My children were taught by the best."
"Very well. No, you do not have to fear for their lives. I will not waste my time running all over the world for you. You are not worth it," Voldemort told him. "I had just hoped you would become our ally. Is this your final word on the matter, then?"
"It is," Vasilis answered.
"All right. So I have no use for her anymore," Voldemort leaned back and steepled his long fingers. Vasilis' eyes widened as he wondered what Voldemort was talking about. Bella giggled with delight. Voldemort turned to Rashnu, who was nearest. "Rashnu, go and fetch the child."
"What child?!" Vasilis demanded. He watched as Rashnu returned with their prisoner.
"Grandpere!" she screamed.
The Dark Mark hung over the house. Bags from Diagon Alley lay forgotten on the front steps. Dolls and new toys seemed so frivolous in light of what had happened.
"REIA!" Vasilis bellowed.
Reia's hands were tied behind her back with coarse rope. Her hair was disheveled and her light green dress was dirty and torn. She was very young. Rabastan did the math in his head. She was Rivalen's age. She was three.
"Grandpere!" she screamed again as Rashnu handed her over to Voldemort. There was a flash of silver. Dear Merlin, he's going to bleed her.
"I'll do anything you want!" Vasilis declared. "Don't touch her! I'll help you, I promise! Just don't! DON'T!"
Voldemort smiled. "Far too late, Komnenos. I have found others who can be just as useful to me as you -- and far more willing. This was merely a last attempt to give you a chance, but you have wasted it. Rabastan."
Rabastan automatically stepped forward without giving it a thought. He heard Vasilis in the fireplace. "Rashnu? Rabastan? Rabastan, is that you? Merlin, don't do it, Rabastan! I beg you!"
The knife was offered to him. Rabastan looked at it. "With all due respect, my Lord, she is a child."
"And you do not kill children?" Voldemort turned to look at him.
"She is innocent, my Lord. I can track him down and kill him for you," he pointed at Vasilis' head in the flames.
"Yes! Yes! Kill me!" Vasilis pleaded.
Voldemort returned his attention to Vasilis. "You know very well Rabastan is no match for you. Besides, you are a pureblood; descended from a line of kings, no less. No, I do not kill purebloods unless completely necessary. This one, however," he tugged on Reia's hair. "The child of a half-blood and a blood traitor can be sacrificed with no regrets."
Rabastan couldn't bring himself to take the knife from his master. Voldemort looked at him then beyond. "Bellatrix."
Bellatrix stepped forward eagerly. "Yes, my Lord?" The same pleadings came from the fireplace, except replaced with Bellatrix's name.
"Make Rabastan kill her."
Bellatrix looked at Voldemort for a moment before turning to Rabastan and drawing her wand. "Do it, Rabastan," she ordered. At that moment, Rabastan knew he had no choice. If he let Bellatrix possess him, she'd draw it out and torture the child. Rabastan took the knife from his master's hand. One precise stroke and it was done.
The house stank of blood and death. It began in the main hallway and...who knew where it ended? A body on the stairs. A body in the library. A body in one of the hallways.
There was a strong knock on the door. Ophelie couldn't be bothered to open it. But, perhaps, it was her father. She forced herself from her position on the stairs, where she had been crying over her husband's body and stood up shakily. She padded to the door and opened it. It was not her father. "This is not a good time."
"I am sorry. I know this must be a difficult time for you. I'm here to help you with...anything. Arrangements, perhaps?"
Ophelie opened the door wider to let Rabastan in, shutting the door carefully behind him. He noticed she cast several spells in French and Latin before stepping away. "No, no, Charlie's already on his way from Romania. He will--" there was the crashing of china in the kitchen. "Nasi!" she cried, running towards the kitchen. Rabastan was alone in the hallway for a moment. He looked at the body on the steps. No blood. At least the Muggle had died quickly.
He decided to follow Ophelie towards the kitchen and see what help he could do there. On the way, he saw Sevastien's body on its belly. His eyes were open and his mouth was frozen in a silent scream. His position suggested he had been running away when it happened. They had not even moved the body. Rabastan closed his eyes for a moment before picking Sevastien up and setting him down on the side of the corridor. As a last thought, he took his cloak off and covered the body with it.
He continued down the hall towards the kitchen. Three corpses accounted for, including the one he had had a hand in creating. Her body, for the moment, lay in the Rosier backyard. Nikolai and Evan had taken the body for a proper burial after the Dark Lord told them to dispose of it. Two were alive: Ophelie and Nasi. That was one more than he had hoped. Three more were missing. Alphonse, Rosalind and her son.
He finally reached the kitchen after what seemed like forever. Nasi was at the table, holding a towel against his hand, which was bleeding profusely. Ophelie was sweeping the remnants of a broken teapot and teacups up. She seemed to have forgotten she had a wand on her. Rabastan stepped forward, pointed his wand at Nasi's hand and healed it. The boy muttered a soft thank you. Rabastan turned his attention to the broken glass.
There is no greater sorrow for a parent than to outlive their child. Another body in the library.
There was another knock on the door. Nasi promised he would be more careful as he tried to make tea again. Rabastan escorted Ophelie back to the main hallway. Ophelie saw Sevastien had been moved. She was thankful and she told Rabastan so. The door opened to admit Charlie, who hugged Ophelie tightly and punched Rabastan in the face.
"Charlie!" Ophelie exclaimed.
"He's one of them!" Charlie reached for his wand. Rabastan was faster. He had his wand pointed at Charlie before Charlie managed to retrieve his from his robes. Ophelie muttered a quick protection spell on the doors. The Muggle police need not know about this.
"Charlie?"
"Rabastan is one of the Death Eaters. The people who work for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The people who killed our family."
"Rabastan?" Ophelie turned to him. Rabastan tried not to think about how Charlie said 'our family' and pulled his sleeve back. The Dark Mark was clear upon his forearm. Ophelie staggered backwards. "You--"
"Yes," came a voice from behind Rabastan. The tip of a wand pressed against the back of his neck. "Put your wand down. You very well know what I can do from this distance. And how quickly."
The voice alone was enough to bring Rabastan to submission. He dropped his wand arm. There was moment of hesitation before he spun around and hugged her.
"Av--" her curse was cut off by the surprise. He held her tightly and she fought back her tears. She had, for years, ached to feel that touch again. She leaned into it before she fully realized what she was doing. She suddenly opened her eyes and her senses came flooding back. It took all her willpower to push him away and point her wand at his head. "You bastard."
Behind him, Rabastan felt Charlie's wand press against his back. That was irrelevant. He was just relieved she was alive. She was alive. Dear Merlin, she was alive. Rabastan closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. "I thought you were dead," he whispered.
"I am dead," she replied. "You fucking killed me when you did that!" she screamed and pointed into a room with an open door.
"Oh, bloody hell," Charlie muttered and Rabastan felt the wand against his back falter for a moment. Bloody hell was right.
Two bodies lay on the floor. One was on his belly: Alphonse. His wand was still gripped in his hand. The back of his head was bloody. The Killing Curse had not been used here. The other body lay on its back. Three-year old Ruslan gazed blankly at the ceiling. Rabastan could not fully describe what had happened to the child, for words could hardly begin to describe the horror. The best description he could give was: "Dolohov."
"You bet," Rosalind stepped towards him. "Where is my daughter?"
"She's...dead."
Rosalind's scream was more painful to Rabastan than the Cruciatus. Rosalind screamed in pure anguish. She took a step back and lowered her wand. She clutched at her chest and gasped. She pressed her hand against the wall and looked like she was about to faint. Nasi came from the kitchens, clearly having taken the distance at a run. Nasi stepped forward to catch her as she fell, but Rabastan got to her first. She sobbed angrily as they slid down to their knees. She struck his chest feebly with her fist. He didn't feel it. All he could feel was this tragic emptiness.
"Who," it wasn't a question; it was a demand.
"Bellatrix," he answered. "Dolohov. Possibly more," he answered. He left out Rodolphus and Evan. He couldn't hurt her more with the knowledge that they were involved as well.
"My daughter." Again, a demand.
"Me."
She screamed again and slapped him. She scratched at his face angrily. She got on her knees and hit him blindly, striking anywhere she could. She kept screaming. He heard Charlie mutter something behind him. A wand against his head. Someone took Rosalind away. He stayed on his knees. His eyes couldn't leave Rosalind. He didn't know who had their wand against his head, much less where his own was.
"You don't know what you've done," Charlie muttered from behind him. The voice was too far away to be the one holding a wand against his head. The witch beside him, then, was Ophelie. He was screwed. Charlie might have hesitated but Ophelie had been raised differently. She wouldn't have a problem blasting his skull apart.
"I'm sorry. I really am." He wanted to explain that he was the best option; Bellatrix would have tortured her first, but the words did not come.
Rosalind was still screaming at him. She was struggling against Nasi, who held her against him firmly. Then, as if something came over her, she stopped screaming. Her body went limp. "Let go of me, Nasi," she said. "Please, Agapi."
Nasi released her slowly. She took two steps towards Rabastan and dropped to her knees. She took his face gently in her hands and looked him straight in the eyes. She leaned closer, as if to kiss him, but she only whispered: "Do you understand the gravity of what you've done? You've killed your own daughter."
Genre: Tragic (Did you expect anything else from me in a prompt that says death?)
Characters: Rabastan Lestrange, Rosalind Bungs, Charlie Weasley, Lord Voldemort, Vasilis Komnenos, various Bungs, random death eaters galore
Rating: PG-13, for character death and stuff
Word Count: 2494 words
Summary: Rabastan is about to realize the seriousness of his actions.
Author's Notes: Subject Line shamelessly stolen from Lemony Snickett's A Series Of Unfortunate Events, which I do own (all 13, yes). Written for my Rab/Ros Prompt Table: #12. Death. I tried my very best not to make it too depressing because I love you.
Oh, and when you start asking yourself: "Why, what happened?" The answers to that question are: "Use your imagination" and "You don't really want to know".
Bellatrix was stretched out on a lounge chair in her home. She was inspecting her nails, quite bored, when the door opened behind her. She sat up and looked around. She smiled as she saw her brother-in-law come in. He looked exhausted. She beckoned him in with an almost eager hand. This, in itself, was surprising.
"How did your mission go?" she asked, just the slightest bit of jealousy in her voice. After all, she was the loyal servant. She should have been singled out for some important mission.
"Satisfactorily," was all Rabastan had to say on the subject. "And what have you been doing in my absence?"
"Just one raid," Bellatrix replied with a small smile.
"Ah. Where is Rodolphus?"
Bellatrix rolled her eyes contemptuously. "Still mourning."
"Mourning?"
"Yes, with Evan."
"You'd be mourning too, if you had any heart," Evan said as he came in. He nodded to Rabastan and went to stand by the fireplace. "Till ran to Rod the moment you arrived."
"What are we mourning?" Rabastan asked as he sat down, sighing from exhaustion. The mission had been difficult and wearisome.
"Death. Murder."
"It isn't like you to talk in riddles, Evan," Rabastan frowned.
"Remember Uncle Vasilis?" Evan asked. He waited for Rabastan to nod sleepily before continuing. "The Dark Lord wanted him to join us. Help gather forces in France and Greece and Russia and all the places he's been..."
"And he wouldn't because Aunt Ophelie's husband is a Muggle," Rodolphus said as he joined them. He looked worse than Rabastan felt, which was saying something.
"And?" Rabastan asked, his voice steady. However, he already had a clear idea of what had happened.
"The Dark Lord sent us to provide him with some leverage."
"We went to take the Muggle and Aunt Ophelie. But Alphonse was there. Who the fuck knew that kid was such a duelist?" Rodolphus hung his head. "Had to kill the lot of them."
Bellatrix laughed cruelly. Evan looked at her, disgusted. "Well, congratulations, Rabastan. You've exceeded my expectations. I thought you'd have bolted from your chair and been halfway there by now," she teased, looking at him with her dark eyes.
"Whatever for? You've killed her," he didn't bother to pretend not knowing who Bellatrix was talking about. Everyone knew the affair he'd had. "Even if I did care for her, the effort would be useless now."
Rodolphus looked at his brother quietly. Evan was the first to break the silence. "Well, I, for one, genuinely liked her."
A piercing scream ran through the house and filled every corner, crack and crevice.
Rabastan entered the room together with his brother and his brother's wife. The room was dark and somber. Six or seven other people were already inside, including the Dark Lord himself. They all wore their masks, so it was difficult to tell, but if Rabastan had to guess, the one by the fireplace was Rookwood and the one nearest to the Dark Lord was his father. The others...possibly Dolohov, Evan and Nikolai. He pondered momentarily at the odd mix of people in the room before Voldemort began to speak to the fireplace. It was only then he noticed his Uncle Vasilis' head looking steadily back at their master.
"One last chance, Vasilis," the Dark Lord hissed. "You may regret this decision."
"You've already killed all of them, what more could you do to me?" Vasilis growled. "Your cowardly assasins were lucky enough that Ophelie was not there or they'd be the ones dead! They only murdered those that could not fight back!"
Rabastan looked intently at the fireplace. So Ophelie was alive?
Voldemort laughed softly. "You have that much faith in your children?"
"My children were taught by the best."
"Very well. No, you do not have to fear for their lives. I will not waste my time running all over the world for you. You are not worth it," Voldemort told him. "I had just hoped you would become our ally. Is this your final word on the matter, then?"
"It is," Vasilis answered.
"All right. So I have no use for her anymore," Voldemort leaned back and steepled his long fingers. Vasilis' eyes widened as he wondered what Voldemort was talking about. Bella giggled with delight. Voldemort turned to Rashnu, who was nearest. "Rashnu, go and fetch the child."
"What child?!" Vasilis demanded. He watched as Rashnu returned with their prisoner.
"Grandpere!" she screamed.
The Dark Mark hung over the house. Bags from Diagon Alley lay forgotten on the front steps. Dolls and new toys seemed so frivolous in light of what had happened.
"REIA!" Vasilis bellowed.
Reia's hands were tied behind her back with coarse rope. Her hair was disheveled and her light green dress was dirty and torn. She was very young. Rabastan did the math in his head. She was Rivalen's age. She was three.
"Grandpere!" she screamed again as Rashnu handed her over to Voldemort. There was a flash of silver. Dear Merlin, he's going to bleed her.
"I'll do anything you want!" Vasilis declared. "Don't touch her! I'll help you, I promise! Just don't! DON'T!"
Voldemort smiled. "Far too late, Komnenos. I have found others who can be just as useful to me as you -- and far more willing. This was merely a last attempt to give you a chance, but you have wasted it. Rabastan."
Rabastan automatically stepped forward without giving it a thought. He heard Vasilis in the fireplace. "Rashnu? Rabastan? Rabastan, is that you? Merlin, don't do it, Rabastan! I beg you!"
The knife was offered to him. Rabastan looked at it. "With all due respect, my Lord, she is a child."
"And you do not kill children?" Voldemort turned to look at him.
"She is innocent, my Lord. I can track him down and kill him for you," he pointed at Vasilis' head in the flames.
"Yes! Yes! Kill me!" Vasilis pleaded.
Voldemort returned his attention to Vasilis. "You know very well Rabastan is no match for you. Besides, you are a pureblood; descended from a line of kings, no less. No, I do not kill purebloods unless completely necessary. This one, however," he tugged on Reia's hair. "The child of a half-blood and a blood traitor can be sacrificed with no regrets."
Rabastan couldn't bring himself to take the knife from his master. Voldemort looked at him then beyond. "Bellatrix."
Bellatrix stepped forward eagerly. "Yes, my Lord?" The same pleadings came from the fireplace, except replaced with Bellatrix's name.
"Make Rabastan kill her."
Bellatrix looked at Voldemort for a moment before turning to Rabastan and drawing her wand. "Do it, Rabastan," she ordered. At that moment, Rabastan knew he had no choice. If he let Bellatrix possess him, she'd draw it out and torture the child. Rabastan took the knife from his master's hand. One precise stroke and it was done.
The house stank of blood and death. It began in the main hallway and...who knew where it ended? A body on the stairs. A body in the library. A body in one of the hallways.
There was a strong knock on the door. Ophelie couldn't be bothered to open it. But, perhaps, it was her father. She forced herself from her position on the stairs, where she had been crying over her husband's body and stood up shakily. She padded to the door and opened it. It was not her father. "This is not a good time."
"I am sorry. I know this must be a difficult time for you. I'm here to help you with...anything. Arrangements, perhaps?"
Ophelie opened the door wider to let Rabastan in, shutting the door carefully behind him. He noticed she cast several spells in French and Latin before stepping away. "No, no, Charlie's already on his way from Romania. He will--" there was the crashing of china in the kitchen. "Nasi!" she cried, running towards the kitchen. Rabastan was alone in the hallway for a moment. He looked at the body on the steps. No blood. At least the Muggle had died quickly.
He decided to follow Ophelie towards the kitchen and see what help he could do there. On the way, he saw Sevastien's body on its belly. His eyes were open and his mouth was frozen in a silent scream. His position suggested he had been running away when it happened. They had not even moved the body. Rabastan closed his eyes for a moment before picking Sevastien up and setting him down on the side of the corridor. As a last thought, he took his cloak off and covered the body with it.
He continued down the hall towards the kitchen. Three corpses accounted for, including the one he had had a hand in creating. Her body, for the moment, lay in the Rosier backyard. Nikolai and Evan had taken the body for a proper burial after the Dark Lord told them to dispose of it. Two were alive: Ophelie and Nasi. That was one more than he had hoped. Three more were missing. Alphonse, Rosalind and her son.
He finally reached the kitchen after what seemed like forever. Nasi was at the table, holding a towel against his hand, which was bleeding profusely. Ophelie was sweeping the remnants of a broken teapot and teacups up. She seemed to have forgotten she had a wand on her. Rabastan stepped forward, pointed his wand at Nasi's hand and healed it. The boy muttered a soft thank you. Rabastan turned his attention to the broken glass.
There is no greater sorrow for a parent than to outlive their child. Another body in the library.
There was another knock on the door. Nasi promised he would be more careful as he tried to make tea again. Rabastan escorted Ophelie back to the main hallway. Ophelie saw Sevastien had been moved. She was thankful and she told Rabastan so. The door opened to admit Charlie, who hugged Ophelie tightly and punched Rabastan in the face.
"Charlie!" Ophelie exclaimed.
"He's one of them!" Charlie reached for his wand. Rabastan was faster. He had his wand pointed at Charlie before Charlie managed to retrieve his from his robes. Ophelie muttered a quick protection spell on the doors. The Muggle police need not know about this.
"Charlie?"
"Rabastan is one of the Death Eaters. The people who work for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The people who killed our family."
"Rabastan?" Ophelie turned to him. Rabastan tried not to think about how Charlie said 'our family' and pulled his sleeve back. The Dark Mark was clear upon his forearm. Ophelie staggered backwards. "You--"
"Yes," came a voice from behind Rabastan. The tip of a wand pressed against the back of his neck. "Put your wand down. You very well know what I can do from this distance. And how quickly."
The voice alone was enough to bring Rabastan to submission. He dropped his wand arm. There was moment of hesitation before he spun around and hugged her.
"Av--" her curse was cut off by the surprise. He held her tightly and she fought back her tears. She had, for years, ached to feel that touch again. She leaned into it before she fully realized what she was doing. She suddenly opened her eyes and her senses came flooding back. It took all her willpower to push him away and point her wand at his head. "You bastard."
Behind him, Rabastan felt Charlie's wand press against his back. That was irrelevant. He was just relieved she was alive. She was alive. Dear Merlin, she was alive. Rabastan closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. "I thought you were dead," he whispered.
"I am dead," she replied. "You fucking killed me when you did that!" she screamed and pointed into a room with an open door.
"Oh, bloody hell," Charlie muttered and Rabastan felt the wand against his back falter for a moment. Bloody hell was right.
Two bodies lay on the floor. One was on his belly: Alphonse. His wand was still gripped in his hand. The back of his head was bloody. The Killing Curse had not been used here. The other body lay on its back. Three-year old Ruslan gazed blankly at the ceiling. Rabastan could not fully describe what had happened to the child, for words could hardly begin to describe the horror. The best description he could give was: "Dolohov."
"You bet," Rosalind stepped towards him. "Where is my daughter?"
"She's...dead."
Rosalind's scream was more painful to Rabastan than the Cruciatus. Rosalind screamed in pure anguish. She took a step back and lowered her wand. She clutched at her chest and gasped. She pressed her hand against the wall and looked like she was about to faint. Nasi came from the kitchens, clearly having taken the distance at a run. Nasi stepped forward to catch her as she fell, but Rabastan got to her first. She sobbed angrily as they slid down to their knees. She struck his chest feebly with her fist. He didn't feel it. All he could feel was this tragic emptiness.
"Who," it wasn't a question; it was a demand.
"Bellatrix," he answered. "Dolohov. Possibly more," he answered. He left out Rodolphus and Evan. He couldn't hurt her more with the knowledge that they were involved as well.
"My daughter." Again, a demand.
"Me."
She screamed again and slapped him. She scratched at his face angrily. She got on her knees and hit him blindly, striking anywhere she could. She kept screaming. He heard Charlie mutter something behind him. A wand against his head. Someone took Rosalind away. He stayed on his knees. His eyes couldn't leave Rosalind. He didn't know who had their wand against his head, much less where his own was.
"You don't know what you've done," Charlie muttered from behind him. The voice was too far away to be the one holding a wand against his head. The witch beside him, then, was Ophelie. He was screwed. Charlie might have hesitated but Ophelie had been raised differently. She wouldn't have a problem blasting his skull apart.
"I'm sorry. I really am." He wanted to explain that he was the best option; Bellatrix would have tortured her first, but the words did not come.
Rosalind was still screaming at him. She was struggling against Nasi, who held her against him firmly. Then, as if something came over her, she stopped screaming. Her body went limp. "Let go of me, Nasi," she said. "Please, Agapi."
Nasi released her slowly. She took two steps towards Rabastan and dropped to her knees. She took his face gently in her hands and looked him straight in the eyes. She leaned closer, as if to kiss him, but she only whispered: "Do you understand the gravity of what you've done? You've killed your own daughter."