Fleur screamed. The sound was heart wrenching, a cry of pain, of betrayal, of loss from a creature so pure striking deep into the hearts of those who fought on the battlefield. Yet Fleur didn't care. She couldn't care. For all she could feel was pain. It hurt. It hurt so much. She collapsed to her knees, white dress staining with the bloody mud of the field, sleeping forward as she released another agonised cry, glowing, otherworldly blood dripping from the remains of her wings. Her halo glimmered weakly, as she slumped forward onto her hands, the shorn locks of her once long, ethereal silvery blond hair scattered nearby, dull and lifeless, the remnants of a hard fought battle. A battle she had lost. A shadow fell over her, a monster, a demon, shroud in darkness and fire and madness and blood, a towering over the broken form of the angel. The Demon laughed, a cruel, malevolent sound, as she raised her dark blade over her curving horns, eyes blazing with unholy fire as she prepared to smite the fallen angelic general. Fleur gazed back at her enemy, eyes brimming with pain, yet she pushed it away, defiant to the last. The blade fell… And stopped. The Demon froze, a gurgle of pain released from its lips as it tilted its head down to the pulsing blade emerging from its chest.
“T… Trai.. tor.”
The dark aura disappeared, the cursed form of the once great queen visible once more, as her dark blade slipped from her grip, her body slumping to the side. As Fleur collapsed forward, into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness, the last thing she saw was a pair of accursed horns, emerging from a familiar head of raven hair. And those beautiful emerald eyes.