peter protecting lydia
A monster and a maiden, a beauty and a beast.
—Power is never quite as simple as it seems.
Never for him.
He coughed up black blood as Lydia loomed over him, surveying him with a sick sort of fascination. Another heaving cough, followed by heaving panting.
"You certainly are enjoying this," Peter groaned, his dark blood caked around his lips. Lydia kneeled down next to him, slowly, carefully making sure that her skirt didn’t hit the dirt.
"I am," she mused, "and how about you? Are you enjoying your slow, painful death?" Peter grinned back at her, teeth entirely stained black.
"It’s much," another cough, "colder than my first one." Lydia smirked down at him, brushing his hair off his forehead.
"Death was always my favorite look on you," she said, "and this time, it won’t hurt that handsome face of yours." She flicked her finger over his nose, almost fondly.
"So considerate," Peter wheezed. Lydia leaned forward, placing a kiss on his forehead.
"You played well, Peter," she whispered, "but not well enough." He tried to laugh, but only hacked up more blood.
"To lose to you," Peter said, "is a worthy death." Lydia stilled, something like sadness welling inside her for only a moment.
"Give the devil my regards," she replied, waiting for only a second more for the light to fade out of Peter’s eyes.