How he would escape was up to question. A most important question, and one that Belleza could not guess with any accuracy. And so she waited, and watched, prepared to...to....

To what?

She had vague ideas of stopping him, confronting him, begging for an explaination for the henious crime he had commited. A foolish hope, she knew-but her heart stubbornly refused to accept that he-of all the people she had known-would so coldly sentence Valua, her beloved Valua, to such complete and awful death.

He couldn't have known it would be so terrible, her heart pleaded. He asked you to save what you could, didn't he?

Didn't he?

In that question lay the source of her agony and despair. The question that had echoed within her soul since she had left the grave of her home-

He asked you to save them-

He asked you-

Asked you asked you askedyouASKED YOU-

It was a like a bell, ringing endlessly within her, damning her a thousand times over with each repetition-

Asked you to save them-

She leaned heavily against the railing in front of her, closing her burning eyes in agony. And yet this failure, this torment, was far preferable to the other possiblity....what if he had known?

What if he had meant for this to happen?

It was better, far better, to blame herself-for if it was he who was at fault, she had been nothing more than a fool. A fool, blinded by misplaced, undeserving admiration-a fool whose folly had led to the destruction of a nation, to the deaths of thousands of innocents.

By all the moons, by every god and spirit in this world, let this be a mistake on my part, she prayed. Tell me it was caused because I was not quick enough-not good enough-not forceful enough-to stop it. Let it not have been caused by misjudgement, by a grave misjudgement. For this lies soley on his shoulders-if he never had a care for anyone, anywhere, in this world-

-what meaning has my life, my mission, had? For I believed he meant good! We all did. We thought he was working for something better, greater than what we could create on our own. But if he didn't-oh, by the moons, we have condemned our people to a most horrific fate.

And my life will have meant nothing, for I have only succeeded in destruction.

Please, gods, make the fault my own!

A loud grinding noise jerked Belleza back to the present. The bridge of the Hydra was detaching itself from the rest of the fortress. So that was his last resort, she thought, somewhat amused. She never would have thought of something like that.

Belleza walked over to one of the talking tubes, the one that would allow communications with other ships. She glanced down to the note in her hand, punching in the frequency for the Hydra. She prayed that the information she had gathered had been accurate. A slight crackling broke through the silence that blanked the ship, and she could hear the harsh, labored breathing of a man faintly coming through the talking tube. She frowned-her ship was not close enough get a decent link up. She would have to move closer, out in the open.

As she brought the Lynx into the Hydra's airspace, Belleza heard the man suck in his breath sharply, as though he had been surprised. Belleza strained to listen for sounds in the background, but aside from Galcian, it seemed as though the bridge was empty. A small line creased her forehead. Had he left his crew on the Hydra, or had they already evacuated earlier.

No matter now. Belleza drew in her breath, wondering how to phrase her thoughts. And then Galcian's voice broke in on her musings, seemingly unaware of the line she opened between their ships.

"Belleza....? I thought you had died in Valua..."

His words sucked the air from her with the sudden realization they brought.

I thought you had died in Valua, he had said.

He had sent her to die.

He had sent them all to die.

He had murdered them all without a second thought.

She went still, as still as the dead. Her heart shattered, her soul withered away, her mind collapsed. She was as empty and silent and cold as the dead of Valua itself.

This was all meant to happen, he had planned this from the moment he began, she thought, she knew.

And I helped him. I believed in him. I loved him. I trusted him completely.

The Lynx continued forward. If she didn't change course soon, the two ships would collide. It was too easy, too kind of a death, she thought, but then, any death would be too easy. Nothing in the world could avenge the death of a nation.

At the least, she would accomplish something worthwhile in her life. Her life-she had wasted it, pining away for the love of a man who knew nothing of such selflessness. And now the world would pay for her error, now countless innocents would die as the result of her actions.

Her mouth opened, and she spoke, but she could not focus-did not even really know-what she was saying. It didn't matter anyway. He would not care about anything she could say.

Her last words were spoken acidly, bitterly, devoid of love or caring. They were more for herself, a bitter acceptance of her folly.

"Goodbye, my love."

Her world exploded into flame.

___________
The Lynx came in closer, its course never wavering. Galcian watched, writhing in helpless fury, seeing that there could be no escape this time.

She was speaking. It was not her words that grasped his attention, it was her voice. It echoed mournfully throughout the empty bridge, a voice made heartbreakingly beautiful by the grief and agony of its speaker.

"...I watched as children bled to death in the streets..."

He could see them, their bodies twisted in gruesome postions of pain and fear and death, conjured by the almost melodic, grief-stricken voice.

"Goodbye, my love."

It seemed as if her words would drown the world in the sadness they held. The words were a condemnation, doomed to ring inside of him for eternity. There was nothing, nothing he could do-he had commited too many sins-never would he be able to repent for what he had done with such cold, calcuating precision.

He could think of no rebuttal, no reply to those words. He tried. His mouth opened, speaking the first words he could think of, hopelessly trying to stave off his fate.

"What-" he began, never to finish.

-end

__________

Notes:
Y'know, some of this seems...cheesy. I don't know why. If you know what it is, tell me. ^_^

I meant for this to be dark, but not _this_ dark....at first I thought of letting Belleza die somewhat happily, but as I was writing this if seemed somewhat out of place. So I changed it. It's not because I don't like Belleza-I think she's an amazing, deep, tragic character, and I think her presence is often overlooked (not really ignored) in....well, everything. Especially in fanfiction-she's usually limited to token appearences in which she utters some words of advice and then is quickly shunted away. Although, I do feel a little bad for writing something so depressing and hopeless on her-I like her a lot; she's my third favorite character. ^_^

CC is welcome and asked for. Please tell me if you think my writing sucks and why it does-it makes me improve. ^^;;;;

Shameless Plugs:
Swashbuckler! (a Vyse shrine):
http://www.fortunecity.com/skyscraper/hamilton/1790/vyse.html