A/N: A one-shot I just thought up.

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She's supposed to be happy for him on his wedding day. The tears spill down her cheeks. Around her, tears fall. Tears of happiness. Her tears are full of sorrow.

His hair glistens in the light. His eyes sparkle. She walks down the aisle. The music is playing.

She wishes that she hadn't given up, hadn't believed it wouldn't work out. It wouldn't last. Now it's someone else where she should be. Walking down the aisle, her white dress trailing weightlessly behind her like a cloud. Arm in arm with her father. She glances at her as she walks by, her dark eyes full of malice and hatred. She knows what she is thinking. She wishes she were in her position.

She wipes a tear from her cheek.

He doesn't even know she's there. He's only looking at his bride. Her veil covers her nasty face. She's a beautiful girl, a gorgeous and stunning work of art. But with a cold heart. A cold, cruel heart full of anger. This is the only way she knows how to take it out.

This is the best thing that's ever happened to either of them.

She wipes another tear from her cheek.

She feels alone. She feels helpless. A slap in the face. A kick in the shin. A punch in the nose. A wedding. A joining of two people in holy matrimony. The reverend recites the speech.

They were so desperately in love, why did she have to break it apart? Her feelings for him were so strong. Yet something was telling her that it was over. The timing wasn't right. He had to go off and find another girl. This girl. This woman. This beauty. After only seven months they were wedding. A tear fell from her black eye.

She thought that he was heartbroken at their breakup. That was what she heard. He didn't go outside. He didn't eat. He was this close to suicide. Apparently not. She was surprised she was even invited to the wedding. The man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with is now wedding a witch. Not just in the way that she can perform spells and charms. She is a witch.

"I don't think we can be with each other anymore."

"We can make it work."

"No. We can't."

"Why not?"

"It wasn't meant to be."

She left.

A tear slid down her cheek.

Now there is no one. No one left in the world that she has these feelings for. She can't love again. Not this strongly. Her heart throbs as she sees them gaze at each other, their eyes gleaming with the layer of tears. The brightness of the outside is misleading to her emotions.

"You may kiss the bride."

He lifts her veil, revealing her sinister beauty. Her face like a painting, spread over a magnificent sculpture. He closes his eyes and leans toward her mouth. She opens the black holes set into her face and stares at her. Stares at the woman she ripped the heart out of and threw on the ground, crushing with her thick, white heel. She feels his hair as she feels his lips pressed against hers. More tears of joy. More tears of sorrow.

She weeps into a handkerchief.

The stains of her makeup soak the pure white cloth. If white is for purity then she should be dipped in black, covered from head to toe with hatred and cruelty. Maybe then he would see. Then he would know. He can't see through her cloak of serenity. But maybe one day he will.

They finally part. She is still glaring at her enemy. He takes her hand. Her claw. The nails painted to perfection, stretching out into the world and just itching to tear out the eyes of someone. Her. She takes his hand. She lifts up her dress with her free hand. Her free talon. They run down the aisle together. In holy matrimony. They have now bonded into one.

One last tear falls down her cheek. No more crying. Tears of sorrow.