A/N: Thanks to pika318 who encouraged me to keep writing for the revenge girls after Sieben Stunden. This one is about Aohigeko, so expect the usual.

Disclaimer: I do not dare to own Sound Horizon. I'd ruin it.

Sechste Frau

Watching her wandering around the castle that used to be my home, I wonder if I should find another way to do this. After all, she was just like I was a few months back. He didn't love either of us, he just needed us as an outlet for his rage and lust. I was his sixth wife; she was his seventh. That made her my little sister, in a way.

I would have laughed at that notion, if I could. What kind of older sister would I be, if I were so jealous of my little sister? Jealous of her for taking my place, for holding my husband's attention, if only for the moment, for just being alive. But still, she would be my sister once her corpse joined mine in that forbidden room, and so I would save her. Even if I don't know her.

When I was alive, I used to wander around the castle in his absence too. I would go around all the rooms and wonder why my husband did not love me. Now that I'm no longer living, I know why. I love him still, and because of that, I will do this.

-o-o-o-

When I first married the Count, he was very kind to me. Constantly asking if I was cold or hot or sad or happy, I was taken with how considerate he was. Perhaps this was why, even though our marriage was arranged, I couldn't help but fall in love with him.

And yet, I could always tell that he didn't love me. I wanted him to love me, so I would often take strolls in the castle grounds near the stables when he was due to return. I would be rewarded with his kind gaze and courteous smile when he came in on his horse, and the usual pleasantries, but I never got more than that. Nor did I ask for more, for what kind of lady blatantly expresses her wishes?

He once asked me why I was taking a walk in the middle of the night, the first time he came back late. I didn't have the courage to tell him that I was waiting for him, so I replied that I was unable to sleep. After that, he never seemed to ask why those bouts of insomnia coincided with his absence, and I never dared to tell him how much I missed him.

It was my love for him that blinded me to those moments of violence that would take him. Sometimes, in those moments of rage and lust, he would lash out at me, but I never saw it as a personal attack on me. I always took it as a temporary loss of sense, because he was always going on those hunts and raids. I didn't realise that it was sorrow and madness that were behind those sudden changes of mood.

Months passed, and still I could see nothing of love in his kind gaze. Every time I wandered the castle in his absence, I wondered if the reason for that was because I was his sixth wife. Was it because I was the sixth, not the first, that he did not love me? Was it because he married me out of necessity, not out of love? Did he still love his first wife, who died of illness?

I chose to pretend not to notice that he didn't truly love me, but it was difficult. As the nights of the season passed, I loved him more and more. And as the never-returning season went by, I never noticed that his changes of mood became more and more frequent.

Finally, on the night that I could no longer pretend not to notice that he didn't love me, I told him that I loved him more than anyone else. With tears in my eyes, I expressed the depth of my feelings for him.

On that night, my favourite white Kleid turned crimson.

-o-o-o-

It was not difficult for love to turn to hate in the face of circumstances like these. While singing of my reason for coming to this fateful border, I hated him for taking away my life. More than that, I was sad because he was sad. He was my beloved, even if I wasn't his.

And finally, I understand why he was so hateful when he killed my sisters and I. He did it out of rage, wishing to punish us for not being that one person he loved, but at the same time, he was giving us what was denied to him. When he killed us, he was sending us to meet the woman he loved, something that he couldn't reach, no matter what. And that only served to fuel his hate and sorrow.

Even if it hurts me to do so, I will grant his desire. Sadness can never be healed by hatred alone. And so, I will end him.

I drifted down to my "little sister", the seventh wife. And I whispered into her ear, "In that forbidden room with the golden key, there lies a wonderful treasure…"

I knew that once I said those words, there can be no turning back. The girl, her interest piqued, scurried off to that forbidden room. I drifted along behind her, but hung back a safe distance. I had already seen the forbidden room once, when I was killed. Vaguely I wonder what I would look like, now that I'm dead.

Yes, once you've inserted that key, just turn it… They will soon appear – our corpses and impulses!

She screamed, long and loud. I don't blame her. I caught sight of myself hanging from the ceiling through the door. My white Kleid wasn't even red anymore, it was now a rusty brown. For a moment, I wished I was alive, singing in that favourite white Kleid again, instead of hanging in the room like a slaughtered animal.

Again, I hate him. And yet, I still love him more than anyone else.

The door to the forbidden room swung shut once more, and she hurried away, her face almost as pale as mine.

-o-o-o-

Now, watching my husband shouting at her to hurry up, I don't feel afraid for her at all. I'm sure that she will be saved, that we will all be saved. But the ways in which we attain salvation are different. For me, it is forgiveness which I must give in order to find closure, and it is that which is hardest to give.

My heart aches as those men swing their swords and hack at my husband. Or at least, I think my heart does. I no longer have one. It's strange how I can still feel pain when I'm watching him bleed from multiple wounds.

It hurts knowing that in any afterlife that we'll exist in, he'll still love someone else and not me. It stings to know that by bringing death to him, I should be pacifying the part of me that wants to forgive him, not the part that wishes for revenge. Sadness can never be healed by hatred alone, and so I will choose to be rational instead of impulsive. I will not rejoice because he dies with me.

Still, as I watch him take his last breath, I cannot help but feel satisfied.

A/N: And this is the end of Aohigeko's short story. It's kind of schizophrenic, but since this is Aohigeko, and I always found her to be kind of torn between love and revenge, I thought she might be not quite right in the head. I feel really depressed now, actually, but I wrote this last week, so I'm just posting it up as this week's upload.

Anyway as a side note, I do have a poll with some SH stories hanging in the balance up on my profile, so if anyone wants to they can go take a look and vote.

And as always, I would greatly appreciate reviews.