"Gasping for air." For A Little Drabble Do Ya!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Posted as in impromptu drabble/photo prompt yesterday, so I'm a bit late.   A triple drabble.

Like a river of molten lava, the train of the Countess de Mormont’s gown cascaded down behind her; the narrowness of her waist
accentuated by it. She stared out the window of her private balcony to the courtyard below where her fate awaited her.

“It is time Madame,” Illya Kuryakin spoke softly, so as to not startle her.

“Just one moment more please? It’s such a beautiful day isn’t it?”

“That is debateable. Now if you please.” The Russian gestured with his arm.

His visage was cold, not unusual for him. His heart had been hardened today, perhaps more so than ever.

He’d broken his own rule, ‘never let anyone in’ but he had with Elizabeth de Mormont of Luxembourg, ever so briefly. Though it was a mistake; he knew it could never be, and now she would be lost to him forever.

She followed the guard who was waiting at the door, taking each step slowly and deliberately.

Illya remained behind and watched from the balcony. He forced himself to do so.

And there he saw the Lady face her end for her crimes. Beheaded by an axe wielding executioner, as per her final request.

At the last second he turned away, he didn’t need to see it, yet he found himself gasping for air.

She betrayed her people and murdered her father. This was their justice, and though the UNCLE agent wanted to hope against hope that she was innocent, in the end she wasn’t.

Illya pulled his communicator. “Channel D- overseas relay.”

“Yes Mr. Kuryakin,” Waverly answered.

“It is done sir.”

There silence. “Come home young man. I know this was most difficult for you. We’ll talk when you return.”

“Unnecessary sir. I am fine. Out.”

Seconds later his communicator warbled.

“Kuryakin here.”

“You okay tovarisch?”

“Yes Napoleon. I am fine.”

“Liar.”

“I am good at that, am I not?”

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I found dark inspiration in this one.