#here are the women with ancient anger in their veins and the cruelty of a goddess in their hearts // Ashenah headcanon.

[illithilit]

What color is your aura?

Blurg is Chartreuse

handbooks, spring buds, bamboo, forest ponds, glass, vintage sofas, fairy circles. your essence is chartreuse: curious and thoughtful, you are a surveyor of patterns. you enjoy your introversion; you feel most in your skin when you're alone, autonomous and uncontrolled. your enthusiasm comes through when expressing your passions to your close companions. you are the analyst. you are the detailer. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of moss, honeysuckle, green, and yellow, who share your natural inquisition. you are also drawn to the intense souls jade and fire, who will help you grow and not be so dependent on your knowledge. however, you may struggle to get along with the people-pleasing personalities of pink and yellow who seem too disingenuous.

Orianna is Royal

crown jewels, portraits, satin chairs, masquerades, nebulas, betta fish, secrets. your essence is royal: you cultivate your strengths and know how to be needed. you attract others; you are flattering and bold, locking everything ugly away. you create an image of decadence and confidence, effortlessly. you are the courtier. you are the networker. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of lilac, purple, indigo, and amethyst, who share your ambition. you are also drawn to the dramatic noir and crimson, who will help you grow and speak your truth even if it isn't pleasant. however, you may struggle to get along with the aimless personalities of gold and umber who lack a strong goal in life.

Grazilaxx is Blush

lollipops, warm cheeks, lip gloss, flowers, flamingo feathers, painted nails, heart glasses. your essence is blush: you are outspoken and protect your heart by never offering an apology. you seize your desires; there is a particularity to your passions, and not many are privy to your reasonings. you are protective and extend your heart in a way you will never accept in return. you are the trend-setter. you are the defiant. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of crimson, red, tawny, and coral, who share your aspirational intensity. you are also drawn to the honest souls lilac and cream, who will help you grow and realize you are not always under critique. however, you may struggle to get along with the internal personalities of sky and beige who are too self-effacing.

Luzzireye is Marigold

roller skates, crayons, golden pheasants, sunrises, corduroy pants, sunflower fields, warm summer days. your essence is marigold: you tackle problems head-on and take no prisoners. your biggest pride is the fruits of your labor; you surround yourself with your accomplishments and the people who you can make happy. productive and willful, you cannot ignore something once you've committed yourself to it. you are the strongheart. you are the warrior. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of peach, honey, gold, and amber, who share your love for discovery and ambition. you are also drawn to the astute souls garnet and hickory, who will help you grow and learn to commit yourself to things for the longterm. however, you may struggle to get along with the heedless personalities of amethyst and moss who don't understand your need to champion.

Razzavell is Fire

sunrises, woven blankets, campfires, tigers, whiskey, monarchs, roadtrips. your essence is fire: you are the bold spirit of adventure. you seek out others who can broaden your horizons; a life best lived is one that's vivacious, but also makes a difference. you are steadfastly committed to your values and do not waver from your opinions. you are the inspirer. you are the opportunist. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of coral, bronze, red, and orange, who share your strong opinions. you are also drawn to the contemplative souls jade and chartreuse, who will help you grow and see the fullness of your vision. however, you may struggle to get along with the opinionated personalities of wine and mauve who act above reproach.

Mourndax is Sky

short poems, teacups, clear skies, diaries, dripping icicles, tears, tennis shoes. your essence is sky: you are a hard worker and do not relent on something once you have begun. you are giving to all but yourself and pour from an empty cup; you want to be simple, self-sufficient, easy. you overflow with creativity but throw away your sketches before they're even done. you are the dauntless. you are the venturer. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of blue, navy, periwinkle, and seafoam, who likewise hold themselves to high standards. you are also drawn to the self-actualizing sage and apricot, who will help you grow and relax into your feelings. however, you may struggle to get along with the strict personalities of ivory and blush who seem overly critical.

Amis is Tawny

fall leaves, candles, blood oranges, hawk feathers, ladybugs, clay dust, toadstools. your essence is tawny: you are an energetic force with purpose. there is a genuine care for others that dictates your actions; still, you do not doubt you know best. effortlessly a leader, you extend your wings to watch over the ones you love. you are the protector. you are the consul. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of terracotta, garnet, blush, and beige, who share your strong core. you are also drawn to the open-minded souls periwinkle and peach, who will help you grow and show you how to open your boundaries. however, you may struggle to get along with the internal personalities of seafoam and ashen who are thought-heavy.

Yzare is Crimson

rose vines, blood, apples, velvet, sharp nails, galaxies, dripping jewelry. your essence is crimson: you are the strong, defiant and avoidant. you crave some sort of deviation; to walk in another's footsteps feels mundane, a waste of your time. you are possessive and never look back at the things you've lost or forgotten. you are the rebel. you are the one who will change the world. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of red, blush, garnet, and bronze, who share your impassioned existence. you are also drawn to the confident souls royal and gold, who will help you grow and show that not everyone seeks to break you. however, you may struggle to get along with the slow-acting personalities of navy and umber who never seem assertive about anything.

Ashenah is Peach

shores, headbands, warm hugs, mugs, fruit baskets, blankets, sleeping cats. your essence is peach: you are a gentle, thorough heart who seeks to spread joy. you wish to create a home for others; you are the soil of the garden, hoping others will plant themselves and never leave. your thoroughness is always humble and you scarcely act alone. you are the tender. you are the homemaker. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of honey, marigold, cream, and apricot, who share your want to help others. you are also drawn to the efficient souls tawny and ashen, who will help you grow and stand on your own. however, you may struggle to get along with the shrewd personalities of lavender and honeysuckle who can be too quickly judgmental.

Nethfari is Navy

brush strokes, suit jackets, midnight, comforters, star gazing, arctic waters, starlings. your essence is navy: you are the keeper of your own narrative. you thrive on uniqueness and the unordinary; everything you feel, you feel deeply, and can be dissatisfied with everyday experiences. you do not shy from the intensity of competition. you are the protagonist. you are the indulgent. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of blue, sky, teal, and indigo, who share your depth and enigma. you are also drawn to the creative souls forest and amber, who will help you grow and learn to feel all of your emotions, not just the productive ones. however, you may struggle to get along with the direct personalities of noir and crimson who are too concerned with forcing their perspective.

Asmodeus is Pearl

abalone, perfume bottles, chandeliers, tulle, balljoint dolls, satin, paint palettes. your essence is pearl: you strive for improvement, and see yourself as the grandest project of all. you cultivate a home in what you do; your signature is unmistakable, perfectly you. you know what's best for others before they're even aware. you are the designer. you are the perfectionist. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of wine, amaranth, ivory, and rose, who also act with purpose. you are also drawn to the honest lavender and periwinkle, who will help you grow and see that you can be true to even your flaws. however, you may struggle to get along with the imaginative personalities of seafoam and coral who don't have a strong purpose.

[xliilith]

Lilith —

"Here are the women with ancient anger in their veins and the cruelty of a goddess in their hearts."

[fall3n1]

Here are the women with ancient

anger in their veins and the cruelty

of a goddess in their hearts.

You will beg before her, you will scream; but Hera never flinched from the words of a mortal, so why should she?

Do not stand in her way.

She will burn down your kingdoms,

herself with it, if it meant your ruin.

[chocolatepoetryangel]

"Here are the women with ancient anger in their veins and the cruelty of a goddess in their hearts.

You will beg before her, you will scream; but Hera never flinched from the words of a mortal,

so why should she?

Do not stand in her way. She will burn down your kingdoms, herself with it, if it meant your ruin."

— Medea /// (d.s)

[ekaterinakostrova]

“I can feel this fear in your blood; hear it in your heartbeat”.

“She had to do something. She did not have gold or lands, or castles, or anything she could offer to him so that she could redeem this poor child. He was just a little boy. There was nothing that she could offer to this man.

The air burned her lungs in these icy mountains. The midday sun glided along the mountain ranges, freezing on the adamantine peaks of the rocky cliffs.

She did not know the true horror and fear before. All the nightmares that appeared to her at night could not be compared with such a horrible reality. The loud, horrific cries of children left to die in the mud in cold ground. Cassian told her once, how his people were dealing with the bastards. Some were thrown alive from the rocks, others were torn to pieces by the creatures living deep in dense forests, and someone were left on the ground without the limbs with blood splashing everywhere.... 

They cut off their fingers, and then chopped off their hands and feet, and then set fire to their wings¸ and the children burned alive in the fire.

In ancient times, the Illyrians chose the most powerful warrior among the clan and called him as their leader. They raised their swords to the glory of their new master, respecting the power of one warrior over their lives and families. Centuries have passed, and one family strengthened its power. It became so powerful that influence of one leader was indissoluble and unshakable. The head of the household was called as the war lord.

One clan absorbed another for the sake of lands, and after for the sake of more selfish reasons - power, influence, strength. Strength was everything for all of the Illyrians – the most solid foundation for achieving greater unity and solidarity among all the clans. Those clans were eager to destroy everybody and everything in its path. The leaders of these clans were hungry snakes, ready to devour their own kind.

She watched Kallon. Kallon with a smile of a jackal on his lips. Watched as this man piercing the boy’s back with a black dagger with a gold hilt. She heard as a cry of pain burned the air. Even cattle were slaughtered with less cruelty. Hot blood spattered his face while his boot rested on the back of the boy. He pressed the child to the ground, stopping him from moving. One man’s hand held tightly to the wing, and the other cut the wing from the back of the child. There was so much blood that the man's dark camisole took on a deep crimson hue.

Nausea came up to her throat. She could barely stand. Her hands were trembling, her knees buckled. She looked at the tent, where all the war lords gathered, but not one of them moved while the warrior’s dagger cut the flesh of the child; not one of them attempted to stop Kallon, whose hands separating the flesh from the bones, the wing from the back. The Lord of the Night Court continued his conversation with the leader of one of the clans.

An emotion of disgust froze on Cassian's face.

He had no right to interfere in the actions of one of the members of the ruling family. Cassian was the General of the Night Court, but for the ruling leaders of the Illyrian clans, he remained a bastard.

The fruit of sin.

The spawn.

She felt the tension rise immediately.

Women took their children to the tents. The soldiers silently watching the execution. Nesta was deafened by a terrible, exhausted scream.

Her legs moved instinctively. It was one those moments, when the body moves by itself in order to survive on the battlefield. And for her, Kallon became that rattlesnake. And she was going to chop off its head.

She attacked him with a cry, throwing him aside with the weight of her body. She knew the reason of this bloody scene. All of this was for Cassian. Cassian, who was an insignificant bastard. Cassian, who was the right hand of the Lord of the Night Court. Cassian, who was one of Illyria's most powerful warriors in the history. Cassian, who was a miserable bastard unworthy of life.

“I'll kill you!”

She screamed, tearing apart his leather uniforms with her strong, immortal fingers, ripping apart golden chains and sapphire stones decorating his expensive clothes. She tore the skin on her knuckles and her pale hands were in his dirty blood. She repeatedly punched the beautiful shape of his nose and strong jaw. And for the first time after her rebirth, she was grateful for the strength of her new body.

Excitement seethed and smoldered in her veins as she was tearing the skin on his chest with her fingernails, trying to reach his ribs and then rip out his poisoned heart. His hot blood coated her hands.

“Take this viper away from me!”

Several men grabbed her by the shoulders, and while she was trying to fend off their strong hands, she broke the jaw of one of them.

“Crap!” - Kallon hissed, spitting hot blood on the ground. ���Bastard’s whore!”

Her mind was flooded with anger and pure rage. The flames raced through her body. She could not think, when she cried out words that pierced the air, like lightning.

“Duel,” - she screamed, trying to break free from the grip of the Illyrian warriors. “I demand a duel with the noble as the winner of the Blood Rite!”

His mouth curved, as if she'd said something funny. Kallon began to laugh hysterically. His smile bore a hint of mockery. And then again she saw that sparkle in his eyes. She had already seen this dark gleam in his eyes, when he first saw her with Cassian.

“Whore! You think that if you came out of the Blood Rite alive, you have the right to speak with me as an equal. Apparently your master did not teach how to keep your mouth shut in bed.

The wind stopped. Even the clouds seemed to freeze.

His tone a blade that whispered warning.

“Even if the elders give you a permission to fight with me, I have the right to reject the fight. After all, what will I get in return after accepting your challenge? You know the rules that both opponents have to offer something to the rival”.

She refused to look away. Death whispered in her ear.

“The life of this child, I want your warriors and your people! You will let them go. That is what I want and that is what I’m going to take from you.”

And when Kallon walked to stand less than a foot from her.

Nesta's instincts were screaming at her to grab the knife in her boot, but she forced herself to stay in place. She wouldn't crawl, not for anyone. 

Kallon's face changed, he came closer to her while his warriors held her hands, and then bowed her to the ground, until she was kneeled before him.

“My clan, my people, my lands. And what are you going to offer in return? You have nothing. You might be a nice plaything for one night, but I won't bargain with you for my entire clan if it’s all what you can offer.”

He took her chin between his fingers. Cold knuckles running along her skin. She met his eyes, forced herself to hold her ground.

“Who told you that you have the right to be here and speak? Who told you that you have the right to look into my eyes? You walk among us, eat among us, sleep in our tents. We let the witch to walk among us, made her one of us,” he shouted to the crowd gathered around them.

“It is precisely because of such a vicious leader as the current High Lord of the Night Court. We allow strangers to dictate their rules into our lands. We allowed the bastard to become the General that leads our warriors on the battlefield. So many women and daughters are left alone. We are the greatest army, which is ready to establish its own rules on the lands of Prythian. Illyrians paid its debt to the Night Court from the day when the first clan led by Enalius set foot on this land. These lands, these mountains, these forests belong to Illyria. We spilled enough blood for the Night Court and its ruthless leaders!

Nesta lowered her head and said calmly.

“You are afraid of me”.

The men's hands stilled on her shoulders, she felt their eyes focused on Kallon.

“I can feel this fear in your blood; hear it in your heartbeat”.

Open interest showed on his face.

“A poisonous viper, I had to chop off your head before you stepped on the lands of my clan before you open your filthy mouth.”

“That's right,” she admitted, giving him a teasing grin. She tried to piss him off; she knew too well, how to get a rise out of him. “But the head of the viper spits poison even after it is chopped off.”

He stared at her back.

“She has the right to fight as a winner,” Devlon announced loudly, arms crossed over his strong chest.

Nesta did not dare to turn around. She only felt his eyes on her back. Cassian.

Kallon grinned viciously, and Devlon continued.

“If you think that this girl needs to be taught a lesson, then teach her properly. Show her then. Show everyone, what we should do with those, who dictate their rules to us”.

His eyes narrowed. 

“This snake has nothing to offer me in return.”

Kallon turned around on the heels of his shiny, leather boots. These boots were soaked in the blood of a child, still trembling on the cold ground. His moans still echoing in her ears, still burning the air.

Nesta swallowed.

“I have something to offer you. And my offer will be the most profitable in your life! You have been expecting such an offer for so many decades. You will have a chance to revenge.”

Kallon turned around.

“And what are you ready to offer me?”

“Myself”.

He laughed, the sound full of dark, and then he took a deep breath.

“What for?”

She hissed, rising from her knees, despite the hands holding her.

“I am the one, who took the King’s life. I am the one, who survived in the ageless darkness and the one, who swallowed the darkness of the Cauldron, took it into my veins, into my blood. Steel became my body, and flame became my blood. To own me means to own the world”.

He grinned. His eyes gleamed, but all he said was:

“I don't need Cassian's whore.”

She had to make a decision. She would not have a second chance.

“I'm not his whore,” she shouted. “I'm his mate!”

Kallon’s expression held pure shock. His eyes froze on her face, in the depth of the seething rage of her silver-blue eyes. A wave of whispers swept along the ranks of the Illyrians.

“Such an appropriate lie,” he finally whispered.

“You don't believe me, then, ask the Morrigan.”

She lifted her face to feel the full onslaught of the wind. It felt good on her skin. The sensation made her feel brave, fearless, and she has nothing left to lose by releasing this, by revealing the truth. 

Nesta took more air into her lungs before screaming:

“Tell them Morrigan! Tell them all the truth! You are the one, who tells the truth and nothing but the truth. Tell them what you see! Tell them all, what kind of beast I am! Let them all see, who I am!”

She could imagine it. She could imagine the emotion of horror on Morrrigan's face.

Then she heard the thunderous approach of his steps, the heat of his strength, burning the air around. Her breath caught in her throat. Kallon cast a glance at Cassian approaching them, saw something in his eyes. His own eyes light up.

The men removed their hands from her shoulders: they were a shackle around her upper arms, when they saw the promise of death in the eyes of the General of the Night Court.

She fought the urge to turn around. She fought the urge to see his face.

“You have to decide faster, Kallon,” she whispered, not looking back at Cassian. She could smell him; hear the beat of his heart.

Kallon looked into the eyes of the General of the Night Court, saw something on his face. And that was the moment, when he believed her. His lips curved upward in a feral smile, when he said:

“I accept your offer, Nesta Archeron”.

[viciousheart]

here  are to  the  women  with  ancient  anger  in  their  veins,  and  the  cruelty  of  a  goddess  in  their   hearts.  you  will  beg  before  her,  you  will  s c r e a m.  but  hera  never  flinched  from  the  words  of  a  mortal,  so  why  should  she?  do  not  stand  in  her  way.  she  will  burn  down  your  kingdoms,  herself  with  it,  if  it  meant  your  ruin. 

[flightfoot]

Memories of Godly Selfishness 2 - Tyrant’s Tomb Edition: Chapter 1

I looked around, the dread I’d been feeling since we’d arrived pooling in my stomach. Whatever was about to happen - whatever we were about to experience - I doubted it would be pleasant.

A fragment of prophecy had led us to a familiar-looking rock on a mountain that sort of looked like it had a human face on it, water running in rivulets down its face, almost like it was crying. I hoped it was my imagination. I was almost certain it was not.

Meg, naturally, had the bright idea of cartwheeling over and touching the stony face. She’d collapsed immediately upon touching it. I’d rushed over, attempting to pull her away from the strange coma-inducing rock... and promptly got knocked out myself when I touched her.

Or at least, I presume that’s what happened to my physical body. For me, the world seemed to swirl around before depositing me here, in this palace. Meg was right beside me thankfully, so at least I knew she wasn’t in some other, separate torment.

Meg looked over at me, frowning. “What’s going on? Where are we?”

I gave her a reproachful look. “You touched the weird rock and passed out. I hurried over to help you and got caught in... whatever this is. Seriously Meg, don’t touch strange things! You never know what sort of curse could be on them!”

She stuck out her tongue at me.

I rolled my eyes and looked around. Chastising Meg was clearly not going to do any good, might as well see about getting out of our current predicament. THEN I could go back to impressing on her the importance of NOT TOUCHING STRANGE OBJECTS.

WARNING: GRAPHIC CHILD MURDER AND HUMAN DECOMPOSITION BELOW THE CUT. IT’S THE NIOBE MYTH PEOPLE. IT AIN’T PRETTY.

Judging by the architecture we were somewhere in Ancient Greece. That didn’t narrow things down much. Perhaps the people would give more of a clue?

I looked around the hall. Several handsome young men, ranging from the late teens to the mid-twenties from the looks of them, lounged around, working on hunting equipment.

I could appreciate that. In my mortal form, I had gained a new appreciation for the amount of prep and maintenance work non-divine beings needed to put into their equipment in order to keep it in a peak state.

Some younger women and girls - the oldest appeared to be about seventeen, while the youngest looked closer to Harley’s age, so more like eight - played around with small toys, or wove fine tapestries. One of the older girls who appeared to be about sixteen - slightly younger than my mortal age now - gently talked to a younger girl about Meg’s age, showing her how to spin the thread they would use later.

It all seemed so happy and peaceful.

I knew it wouldn’t last.

Those bright orange robes the young men were wearing - they niggled at my memory. I KNEW those robes. I knew what they represented. But it just... wouldn’t come forward.

My brain seemed to be saying, Are you sure you want to remember this? There are so many other lovely things we could be thinking about instead. Like how you’re going to defeat Python without the protection of immortality! Or what’s waiting for you and Meg at Nero’s Tower!

Those are HAPPIER things to think of? I asked my brain incredulously. Just how bad is whatever happens here?

Er...

My brain went silent.

Well that was a bad sign.

I just hoped whatever happened wouldn’t hurt Meg too badly. From the slightly nauseous crawling feeling of guilt clawing its way through my insides, I guessed this was going to demonstrate another example of me being an asshole. I’d probably deserve whatever would happen. But Meg did NOT.

Meg looked at my expression quizzically. “What’s the problem? You look like you expect to be punched in the gut.”

My mouth dry, I nodded. “I think after this, you’ll probably want to.”

Meg frowned. “This isn’t like with Coronis or Harpocrates, is it? Seriously, how bad WERE you?”

I swallowed down the urge to say I don’t know, but I have the feeling you’ll find out.

Instead I looked away. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I don’t remember. Just... be on your guard. And... whatever happens... just know that I love you. Whatever you think of me after this. Even if you don’t want anything to do with me afterwards.”

Meg’s expression turned alarmed, her eyes widening. “Apollo? APOLLO! What does THAT mean? What could you possibly have done that would make me want to leave you?”

Before I could answer (though I have no idea what I would have said) an older woman swept into the room. With her fine clothes and jewelry and overall regal demeanour, I concluded that she must be the Queen

I felt a stab of hatred looking at the haughty woman - but an even deeper curdling of guilt.

“Ah, my fine children!” she exclaimed, parading about the hall. “My pride and joy! Truly, I am fortunate above all to have so many wonderful sons and daughters! Surely I am more worthy of worship than that nearly barren Leto. She considers herself to be the Titan of Motherhood? HA! With the twelve children I have in comparison to her mere two, I am FAR more worthy of worship!”

Anger boiled through my veins. How DARE she speak of my mother like that! Yet it was muted. I had already exacted my revenge, I was sure. But what did I do? Why was I so afraid of remembering?

Meg snorted. “She’s an idiot.”

I nodded. “Yes. Yes she is.”

She studied me. “So... did you kill her then? Is that what this is about?”

��I...” I WISHED that was all. But I had a feeling that was not. “I... don’t think so.”

“That’s good then... right?” Meg asked.

I shook my head.

She frowned. “Did you do something worse?”

In answer, one of the young men cried out. He collapsed to the ground, revealing an arrow sticking out of his chest. Blood spilled out of wound as he gargled and died. People do not last long when they’ve been shot through the heart.

“Eudorus!” one of the other men screamed, before he, too, collapsed, an arrow having been shot through him, same as his brother.

Some of the girls screamed and tried to flee, but to no avail. The doors out of the palace were locked by a divine force. Others cradled their dead brothers, desperately trying to wake them.

I knew it was useless. Those were killing shots.

The brothers didn’t get to try the doors. One by one they were shot down.

Meg traced the direction of the arrows and turned around, trying to figure out where they had come from.

I turned as well, but I already knew what I would see. Behind us stood myself, golden, glowing, powerful - and very, VERY angry. I watched as I notched one last arrow to bring down the youngest of the sons - just a boy really, about the same age as Will.

“Please!” the boy cried out. “Please gods, please don’t kill me!”

I saw my godly face (how I wished to punch it now) soften slightly, but it was too late. The arrow loosed, the youth falling to the ground, dead. Had his death been a little less painful than the others? I’d like to think so, but I wasn’t sure. He was dead regardless, without a trace of remorse on my divine self’s face.

Meg’s mouth hung open, shocked. “Why... Why would you DO that?”

“I...”

I swallowed dryly, my mouth tasting like ashes. She would not like my reason. I didn’t like my reason.

But this tragedy - no - this cruelty, this evil was not done.

As Queen Niobe (for I now remembered all too well who she was and what was happening here) hugged her dead sons, their blood staining her robes red.

She cried out, “Are you happy Leto, cruel one, now that my sons are dead? Feed your heart and be done, savage spirit! Enjoy your triumph over your enemy! But have you truly won? Is this really victory? I still have seven daughters, more than thrice what you possess! Even in the depths of my misery I have more children than you in your happiness! I still outdo you, even with half my children dead!”

Before when Niobe had yelled this, I had been furious with her presumption, for still not learning her lesson. Now I only felt pity and sorrow. She was an idiot. She was a MAJOR idiot. But she’d already suffered for her idiocy. Her CHILDREN had already suffered for her idiocy. Wasn’t this enough?

Gods, her children...

I shoved that thought out of my mind. This wasn’t over yet. I could think on that later.

Several of Niobe’s remaining children, her daughters, turned and gave her shocked looks... those that weren’t too caught up in crying over their dead siblings, or just too terrified to register much of anything.

That little eight-year-old girl, the youngest of Niobe’s children, ran to the safest person she knew: her mother. She clutched at her mother’s robes, burying her face, attempting to block out the awful, awful world, sobbing incoherently as her mother hugged her back.

It reminded me of Meg, of the few times she’d break down, show some vulnerability. Of when we were reunited in Indianapolis, her sobbing into my shirt, of my hugging her as she confessed how scared she was of losing me.

Another of Niobe’s daughters, the one that had been teaching the youngest child how to spin, walked over to her mother. She put her hand on her mother’s back, seeming to prepare to pull her into a hug... and then she screamed.

Niobe’s head snapped up, her eyes bulging. Her youngest daughter skittered around behind her, attempting to hide from whatever had caused her sister to scream.

The girl fell, revealing an arrow sticking out of her back.

Before she hit the ground, another high-pitched scream rang out. Then another. And another. And two more still.

In less than a minute almost all of Niobe’s daughters had joined her sons in death.

Trembling, Niobe threw herself towards her youngest daughter, the only one not yet dead. All her bravado had left her. What remained was a terrified, mourning mother.

She hugged her remaining child to her chest, attempting to envelop her, shield her as best she could.

“PLEASE!” she cried out, looking back at the cause of her new misery, at the second murderer of her children.

Artemis glowered back, her cold silver eyes nearly glowing. She notched one last arrow.

“Leave me just one, my littlest child!” she screamed. But it was no use. Artemis found an opening. She released the arrow.

The young girl, who only minutes ago was happily learning how to spin thread, had her string cut by the Fates. She screamed as the arrow entered her body, but not for long. In a body as small as hers, it took little to kill her.

Niobe broke down sobbing, clutching the body of her youngest daughter as her robe became stained red with her blood. She grieved and wailed, the stench of blood and other bodily fluids filling the air.

I wanted to wail with her. But I had no right to. I had been partially responsible, after all. I had thought nothing of murdering innocent people, adults and children alike, at the time. Gods, even a few months ago, I’d thought about this and THOUGHT THEY DESERVED IT.

“She- she killed her. She killed the rest of them...”

I froze. Slowly, I glanced back and to the side.

Meg stood there, eyes open wide, pale as a ghost. Her pupils shrunk to pinpricks.

The last time I’d seen her this horrified was in a flashback to when she was six, looking at her father’s corpse sprawled out in front of her.

A Beast had killed her father.

I wondered now - could it not be said that two Beasts killed Niobe’s children?

But... no. I would not pretend that some other person killed them. That neither of us could help it. We murdered them while in full control of our mental faculties.

Meg looked up at me, her face pale and drawn. “WHY!” she screamed. “WHY?! WHAT COULD THEY HAVE DONE TO POSSIBLY DESERVE THIS?!”

“Nothing,” I replied, my voice hoarse. “They did NOTHING to deserve this.”

Meg stared at me. “Then- then why...?”

I swallowed. This wouldn’t make things better. But she deserved an explanation, as terrible as it was.

“The Queen - the older woman - she was proud of having so many fine children. At a ceremony honoring my and my sister’s mother, Leto, she decided that since SHE’D had so many fine children, that she should be worshipped instead. She ordered the priests to stop the ceremony, to take the laurels out of their hair and leave.

Mom was FURIOUS. Worship helps to empower us gods, so preventing that worship could cause her to weaken. Plus, the sheer NERVE of her declaring herself better than Leto, and her children to be better than Artemis and I? She was PISSED. She called Artemis and I to her and ranted about Niobe’s impudence, then asked us to murder all her children that she was oh-so-proud of.

We flew off at once. As soon as Niobe entered the room, we let loose. We wanted her to suffer. All her children were just- just collateral damage.”

“Collateral...?” Meg whispered. I flinched. “COLLATERAL DAMAGE?!”

“That’s how we thought,” I stated miserably, gazing at Niobe, still sobbing over her children’s bodies. Self-loathing filled my voice. “It didn’t MATTER that we killed innocent people - that we killed children. We were GODS. It was- it was DIVINE RETRIBUTION. It was the will of the gods, beyond reproach. In our minds - or in mine, at least - anything we did, the mortals deserved. Or... no. I should say, it didn’t MATTER whether the mortals deserved it. Our wishes, our decisions, overrode everything. Because we were gods. Because we were powerful. Because we had the right to do whatever we wished, so long as it didn’t conflict with the other gods. Murdering innocent people, innocent CHILDREN even? None of the other gods cared. So in my mind at least, it was fine. We’d dealt out our vengeance on Niobe for her insult against our mother. We didn’t care that we’d killed innocents in the process.”

“Artemis.” Meg stated, staring at the body of Niobe’s youngest daughter. The girl’s corpse looked waxy, a pungent smell of decay wafting around the room. I suspected that time was moving forwards at an accelerated speed while we talked. With the way her body - and the bodies of the other dead, children and adults alike, were visibly bloating - I estimated that we had just passed the 24 hour mark. “She killed all of Niobe’s daughters, even- even her youngest! Niobe was BEGGING and PLEADING for her kid’s life, and she just- she just killed her ANYWAY! I- I thought that Artemis was supposed to PROTECT kids, to protect women and girls especially! So- so why would she kill that little girl?!”

That stopped me for a moment. Meg had a point. The Artemis I knew nowadays... I couldn’t imagine her doing anything like this.

But that doesn’t mean she’d never been willing to do this, since clearly, she had. However... “Back in the old days,” I stated slowly, feeling my words out. “Artemis was as vengeful as any of the rest of us. She did more to help than most of the gods and goddesses did, especially when it came to protecting women and girls, but she wasn’t above hurting innocents when someone insulted her. She once unleashed a giant boar to ravage the countryside because a king forgot to give her offerings. I don’t think she considered the innocent people it would hurt who had nothing to do with his slight.”

“And THAT’S the kind of person Reyna pledged herself too? That the Hunters devoted themselves too?!” Meg asked disbelievingly.

I shook my head. “Maybe at one time, the oldest among my sister’s Hunters devoted themselves to her when she was still willing to do that sort of thing. By the standards of the day, this was normal.

But now? I can’t imagine her DOING anything like that now. A few years back, Percy’s girlfriend, Annabeth, was kidnapped. My sister was taken prisoner soon afterwards. Annabeth had been tricked into holding up the sky and was being crushed by its weight. My sister’s captors took her to Annabeth, to this girl she didn’t know, and simply showed her her situation. My sister took up the burden of the sky in order to save Annabeth’s life, trapping herself in the process.

Kronos’s forces had KNOWN she’d do that - known that my sister would sacrifice herself to save an innocent maiden, even though she was a stranger, even knowing it was a trap - because Artemis cared about her life regardless, and could not abide by her death if she could do something to save her.”

My sister had gained the compassion, the empathy, to care about mortals that she had no connection, put HERSELF at risk to save one. When had she gained that level of empathy?

I thought back through the centuries, through my many interactions with my sister and her Hunters. My sister... she HAD changed. She had become a better person over time, as she interacted, gained experience with mortals.

I, like most other gods, had longed professed the belief that gods don’t change or grow. That any differences in how we were, how we acted over time had to do more with changes in how humans perceived us, rather than our changing on our own. After all I’d been through, after how I’d changed from how I once was, I now knew that was false.

I should have known earlier than that. Artemis had changed as well. I just hadn’t paid attention. Or maybe I was afraid to. Because if Artemis could become a better person, then I could as well. At that time, it wasn’t a message I wanted to hear. I’d been trying to convince myself that I was an awesome and amazing person for millennia, after all. I didn’t need to be better! But if I’d thought about how Artemis had become better, that doubt would have come creeping in. So I blocked it out and just didn’t think about it.

Now my eyes were clear. For the first time in four thousand years, I felt like I was seeing the world as it was, rather than simply seeing my delusions. I could recognize the good and the bad, see and understand how different people think, how things might look from a different point of view than my own.

Meg looked at me warily. “And you? Would you have done ANYTHING like this?”

I swallowed, looking back at the corpses. Time had skipped forward some more while we were talking. Fluids were leaking out of all orifices of the corpses. Still Niobe sat unmoved, crying. I didn’t know how she did it. The smell was unbearable, the faces of her kids no longer recognizable. It had probably been a week at this point since my and my sister’s massacre.

I wrenched my eyes away, hoping that Meg hadn’t looked where I had. But it was evident that she’d followed my gaze. She looked nearly as green as some of the dead bodies. I was certain that if we’d been physically here, if this hadn’t been some sort of vision, that we’d BOTH be vomiting up the contents of our stomachs right now.

“I... I don’t think so,” I told her weakly, trying to ignore the decomposing bodies. I failed.

Meg was quiet for a moment. “So if you had met me before this - if you had known about Nero and went to kill him - would you have killed me too? Because I was in the way? Because he was my- my stepfather? Would you have killed all of us in his household, everyone the Beast took?”

“I-” I wanted to say no, of course not, I would’ve tried to avoid killing anyone who didn’t clearly deserve it, especially kids.

But that would have been a lie. Even less than a year ago, I had contemplated killing Leo, Frank, Hazel, and the rest of the Seven merely because they were around, and for some IDIOTIC reason I thought that MAYBE that would please my Father and get me back into his good books. I have no idea what I was thinking then. Nowadays, I could barely comprehend how I used to think.

Would I have killed everyone in Nero’s household, including the children? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think I’d go out of the way to kill them. But if they had attacked me, even if I knew they wouldn’t be able to harm me, even though they might be very, very young, I was afraid the answer was yes.

I may not have gone out of my way to murder children. But I doubted that I would have gone out my way to avoid it either. And if I was well and truly upset? All bets were off.

My silence was answer enough for Meg. Quietly she stated, “You were a horrible person.”

I couldn’t deny it. Not after everything that had happened. Not after remembering Coronis, or the Cumaean Sibyl, or Harpocrates.

But... I lingered on the way that she said I *was* a horrible person. Not *is* a horrible person. It reminded me of how Reyna had talked about me soon after discovering what I’d done to Coronis. How she’d said I used to the god of music. How she’d seemed to believe that as terrible as I’d been, I still had the capacity for good now. How she’d believed that I could be a better person.

Did Meg still believe in me, despite everything?

Movement stirred in the corner of my vision. I looked around instinctively.

Several gods had descended on the scene. One touched the inconsolable Niobe, who hadn’t even seemed to notice the visitors. Wind whirled around her, and she was whisked away to somewhere else.

I tried to identify who the gods were as they picked up the bodies, but it was impossible. My eyes just seemed to slip off them whenever I looked for detail.

The bodies, though... they had no such filter. Their skin had started to blacken, rupturing open in some places. Lifting them up, the skin seemed to slide around, exposing more putrid stench to the already pungent air.

As the gods flew out, corpses in tow, the world dissolved.

Abruptly I was thrown back into my body. Meg stirred at the same time. She glanced at where I was touching her and jumped back.

I threw up. I could hear - and smell - Meg doing the same a few feet away. All of the grotesque gore and decay I’d seen had caught up to me. I’d thought that killing Commodus was terrible? That was NOTHING compared to what I’d been responsible for centuries before that.

The difference was, now I cared.

After Meg and I had finished retching, I looked up at Meg. Tears ran down her face. She looked awful. “What- what WAS that?” she croaked, her throat raw from the stomach acid.

I took a step closer to her, instinctively seeking to comfort her. She retreated several steps. “St-stay back!” she cried, sounding scared. “That’s an order!”

I halted. I had no choice.

Meg had reverted to giving me direct, explicit orders. She felt like she needed to. Because I frightened her.

I couldn’t blame her. If I had been in her situation, I wouldn’t have felt safe around me either. Heck, I didn’t even feel safe around me NOW.

I’d never wished so hard to be someone else.

But I couldn’t change the past. Right now, I needed to concentrate on the present. And that meant answering Meg’s question. “I think that was Niobe’s memory. After we killed her children, Zeus turned all the people of the city to stone so that no one could help bury her kids. She sobbed over them for nine days, only leaving to eat and drink. On the tenth day the other gods took pity on her, transforming her into stone and burying her kids themselves, since she was too distraught to do so. They depetrified the townspeople soon afterwards. Since Niobe didn’t see that part herself, I assume that what we saw at the end was her assumption of what happened. That’s why the gods weren’t identifiable. Someone probably told her what happened afterwards, and that’s what she imagined.”

Meg frowned, “But... if that was Niobe’s memory... then where is she?”

I looked past Meg, at the rock behind her. The rock she’d touched at the start of all this. The rock with a human face. “I think... that’s her. Her spirit was placed in that rock to weep eternally. We just got caught up in a cycle of her memories.”

“She’s- she’s been reliving that,” Meg whispered, horrified. “THIS WHOLE TIME?!”

I nodded, guilt making my insides burn. “I think so.”

“We- we have to help her,” Meg croaked.

“I don’t think there’s anything either of us can do for her now,” I told her gently. “Not as things stand. But- when I’m a god again, I’ll try to help her. I’ll talk to Hades. Maybe he can get her soul to move on, bring her some measure of peace.”

Meg looked at me silently, then nodded.

We stood there another minute, me staring into space.

What now? Where could we possibly go from here?

Meg knew now what a horrible, repulsive being I was. I knew how horrible I was. I honestly wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to leave me, this time for good.

Abruptly, Meg spoke. “I feel like I should hate you.”

“You have every right to,” I told her. “I hate me.”

Meg shook her head. “But... I don’t. As horrible as you were - and you were a terrible person, you REALLY sucked - I still care about you. You’re still - you’re still my adopted brother. But I don’t want to be around you right now. I need some time to - to think about this.”

I nodded, a lump in my throat. It was more than I could have hoped for.

“I’ll give you as much space as I can. But... I can’t exactly leave, Meg. Not until we get somewhere safe.”

She bit her lip. “Just... don’t touch me. Not now. I’ll- I’ll have time to think about this more when we’re at Camp Half-Blood. But for now, I just - can’t stand to be around you more than I have to.”

After a moment, Meg breathed out. Determination shone in her eyes, as if she’d just purged some of the horror and sorrow from herself.

“Let’s go,” she told me. “I don’t think I’ll be able to rest around here.”

I followed her, staying several meters behind, trying to give her space.

She hadn’t disowned me entirely. That was enough for now. More than I deserved.

As we traveled in silence, I contemplated what I’d seen, what I’d learned.

When us gods fought, innocent mortals died in the cross fire. When we punished mortals, we often punished the innocent along with the guilty, even though we were often powerful enough to target our wrath more precisely so that it mostly hit the actual object of our ire.

With Niobe, Artemis and I didn’t have to murder her children in order to punish her, or even really to comply with our mother’s request. We were gods. We could have made her go mad, given her visions of us murdering her children. There was no need to actually do it. Whether it actually happened or Niobe only THOUGHT it happened, the same thing would have accomplished, as far as Niobe’s punishment went. The difference would have been, that her kids, who had done nothing wrong except to have her as a mother, would still be alive. They would not have suffered for their mother’s misdeed - well, no more than having an insane mother would cause them to suffer, at any rate.

We gods had already started to move away from these more extreme cases of wreaking havoc on innocents in recent millennia. But still we were too careless with innocent lives, especially when we were upset.

That HAD to change. I would make SURE it changed.

I wasn’t sure how yet. I couldn’t control what others gods did. I didn’t have Zeus’s authority, and Zeus himself would be unlikely to agree with me.

But I would try.

Never again would I intentionally murder innocent people just to get revenge.

Never again would I allow my family to do the same.

Never again.

---------------

Author’s Note

I'll admit that I had trouble with Meg's and Apollo's reactions during this chapter. Because just... how do you handle watching innocent kids be brutally murdered and then left to rot? Especially knowing that you are partly to blame/that your friend is partly to blame.

I kinda mixed and matched different versions of the Niobe myth, but tried to keep the core of it intact. The details vary a lot anyway. Like, I know that usually the sons are off somewhere else doing some activity together when Apollo slays them first, but I wanted to only write one scene so I stuck them all together and had the massacre happen at once. I'm not sure whether there are versions of the myth like that, but I don't think it makes that much of a difference.

I forgot about Niobe's husband until I was partway through writing so I just left him out. He also dies in all the versions of the myth I know, but sometimes he dies after trying to kill Apollo for killing his sons, and sometimes he commits suicide after finding out his sons are dead. I'm gonna say that in this version that he committed suicide after learning of his children's fate. I don't think it matters much so long as he dies as a consequence of his own actions after learning his kids are dead.

I had trouble finding detailed versions of this myth, so I mostly took details from Ovid, since it was the most detailed version of the myth I could find. That's where things like the youngest son begging for mercy comes from, or Niobe attempting to protect her youngest child.

And in case anyone was wondering why the sons were so much older than the daughters, In every version of the myth I saw, none of Niobe's children seemed to be married yet, though some were of marrying age. Since from what I found, it wasn't unusual for me to hold out until age thirty before being married, while girls were typically teenagers when they were married off, it was WAY more plausible for Niobe's sons to be adults and not be married, than for her daughters to be.

I am planning on writing a second chapter at some point where someone (probably Chiron, but that's not set in stone) talks about some of the GOOD things Apollo did as a god to show that he had some redeeming qualities and wasn't completely terrible, but I dunno when I'll get around to writing that. In any case I couldn't exactly throw that into this chapter since Meg didn't know about any of it and Apollo's not gonna bring it up. Plus, after watching Apollo slaughter innocent people who couldn't fight back is REALLY not the best time to bring up things like him peacefully letting one of his lovers go and transforming her into a nymph to give her a long life, or helping to establish the foundations for Camp Half-Blood. Seems too much like trying to excuse it, especially since these pale in comparison to child murder.

[abaddoned]

here are the women with ancient  ANGER  in their veins  &  the cruelty of a goddess in their hearts.  you will beg before her,  you will  s c r e a m;  but abaddon never flinched before the words of a  MORTAL,  so why should she?   do not stand in her way.  she will burn down your kingdoms,  herself with it,  if it meant your ruin.  

[rosiethrns]

& .   ×   ›   BELLATRIX LESTRANGE.

              here are the women with ancient anger in their veins and the cruelty of a goddess in their hearts. you will beg before her, you will scream; but hera never flinched from the words of a mortal,

                                           so why should she ?

                 don’t stand in her way. she will burn down your kingdoms, herself with it, if it meant your RUIN.

[jaqcarrw]

❝ Here are the women with ancient anger in their veins and the cruelty of a goddess in their hearts. You will beg before her, you will scream; but Hera never flinched from the words of a mortal, so why would she? Do not stand in her way. She will burn down your kingdoms, herself with it, if it meant your ruin. ❞

JACQUELINE CARROW really is the spitting image of PRISCILLA QUINTANA, right? For someone only TWENTY-FIVE years old, JAC has been forced to endure so much. Yeah, that MUGGLEBORN has been scraping by at the sanctuary since JUNE, 2028, working as a LEADER/COMBAT MEDIC AND UNSPEAKABLE in the DIVISION OF HEALING. SHE is a CIS WOMAN and is known to be HARSH and DISTANT but also RELIABLE and PROTECTIVE. Best of luck surviving through this. ⊰ JO, 26, EST, SHE/HER ⊱

Stat Sheet.

Pinterest.

Trigger Warnings: kidnapping, emotional, physical and verbal abuse, manipulation, stillborn mention, parental death ( all within the first set of bullets in *history* )

History:

[ TW: KIDNAPPING AND MANIPULATION ] Jacqueline was born to a happy muggle couple who had the unfortunate luck in running into the pair of death eaters while they were in ‘hiding’ after the war had ended. Alecto was taken with the idea of having a child and while they tried for one, she hadn’t been able to conceive. If she couldn’t get what she wanted that way, Alecto had decided to take it. The death eater caught eye of Jac, a bright-eyed one year old, and her accidental magic– and set her target. Alecto and her husband spent a few months getting close to the family before the other shoe dropped and their daughter was taken right from under their nose. As a toddler, Jacqueline wasn’t the type to whine or cry. She was quiet…confused and though she still asked for her mother and father she was met with ‘we are your parents’. The next three years had gone by with only a few snaps on Alecto’s part and eventually they grew tired of just playing with Jacqueline when she grew into a child.

[ TW: STILLBORN MENTION, ABUSE MENTION, KIDNAPPING ] The pregnancy had been a surprise to the Carrows after failing to conceive before, however that happiness was soon diminished when the infant was brought into the world lifeless. Distraught and angry, Alecto took it out on Jacqueline because some how she was responsible for the out come. It was the first time for her to see such anger out of her mother and though she was left with bruises to match– jac attempted to console her only to be pushed aside. It took them an entire week to find a replacement for their lost child and they’d left four year old jac to fend for herself – when they came back they brought their new daughter who was red in the face from wailing. Jacqueline grew extremely protective and found herself trying to calm the infant’s, who was named valeria, tears to save her from their parents anger. Though this would last their entire life as Jacqueline became a shield for her little sister and took punishment which she didn’t deserve just to keep her safe.

[ TW: ALLUDING TO KIDNAPPING, ABUSE MENTION ] Jacqueline doesn’t know her origins ( like where she was born, who her parents were, etc ) but she had her suspicions since she was young that something wasn’t right and that she was missing something. The connection of child and parent was nonexistent and it was made clear when the slur ‘mudblood’ was hissed in her direction when things didn’t go her parents way but they’d praised her for being pureblood all along. Her mother’s hatred and anger only burned hotter as the girls grew up and jac took the brunt of it– not fighting back for Valeria’s sake. She would bide her time until she would get her vengeance. [ TW END ]

Growing Up:

She was a smart girl and she focused on her studies while her sister lived as carefree as she could ( which jac found smart just as well ). Hogwarts was a breeze. Jac soaked in information probably too quickly and aced her essays and exams which eventually lead into her career as an unspeakable. Even within her first year, in the love/sacrificial magic dept, she made many discoveries and invented spells that eventually helped save the lives of wixen.

Once the whispers of the dark lord and death eaters stirred around, Jac knew it was trouble. Her mother was hellbent on having her ‘most intelligent daughter’ help with their project as she was an unspeakable with knowledge they believed was important.  There wasn’t no room for a ‘no’, so went along with it. She attended the meetings, listened to the schemes, offered advice when she was asked to speak however– she hadn’t realized that they were actually serious in raising inferi along with the Dark Lord. Jac was dragged along to the cave, the cold wind whipping at her cheeks as she stood outside of the cave ( as a look out ) once they began. And when they ended and realized that they had made a mistake-- that she’d made a mistake. jacqueline watched passively as the death eaters fought for their lives-- failing one after the other including her mother. Turning a cold shoulder she apparated away leaving her mother at the mercy of the inferi without hesitation. Jacqueline’s survival was much more important....

She stayed put until she couldn’t any longer, only to see if her parents survived and unfortunately her father did as he was too much of a coward ( they always said one needed to be a little cowardly to survive anyhow ) to step inside. She joined her sister three months later at the strong hold where she poured her talents in keeping those who fought the battles safe as a combat healer and became a leader in no time. Her father is currently locked in the Chamber of Secrets and she gives a whopping zero fucks lmfao

After a recent scuffle ( a month ago ) with the inferi on a mission as a combat medic, Jacqueline went through a checkup with the healers back at Hogwarts and though she had some minor injury during the scuffle-- the most surprising result was that she was pregnant. ( I’d actually would love if the healer that performed the checkup, initially to make sure she was fine and not scratched/bitten, is pretty adamant on her taking care of herself/baby yeno probably wanting her to STOP as she should but she wont because she’s a dumb. BUT HEY potential friend connection please and ty <3 )

As of right now, she is a little over 17 weeks pregnant ( around 4 months ) and she’s still attempting to keep it a secret for as long as she can as she knows that is grounds to take her out of the action where she is needed the most ( and she needs to help put that guilt to rest over unknowingly help the de’s bring this mess into the world ) but girl is showing andddd…walp time is running out..  

Personality:

a no nonsense type of person and is pretty black and white when judging if something is right or wrong ( her standards on right and wrong i mean )

she can’t stand betrayal or disrespect of any kind and isn’t the type to let things slide. meaning u screw her over, she’s going to mess you up big time.

very smart, very clever, quick with her wand and pretty much anyone who stands in front of it will take a beating when dueling/fighting. and talented in healing which is why she took on the position of a combat medic instead of going into the research division like the other unspeakables.

her family is the most important to her- or well her sister. she’s very self sacrificing for them and shields her little sister from any sort of harm. which means she takes the brunt of their parents abuse or really any abuse because she loves her baby sister okayyyyowhigowihegowiheg.

outside of her fam its hard to get close to her outside of her being polite. if you do manage to become friends with her she’s extremely loyal and protective. SHE TAKES EVERYONE UNDER HER WING TBH the mom friendTM but like good luck? she’s like a block of ice.

jacqueline quite realistic and doesn’t dwell on things ( ha. ig inferi is different ) as she see it more as a hindrance to react emotionally to situations rather than take it at face value on with a levelhead. ( which she finds valeria annoyingly NOT doing ) but don’t let her fool you, she might not react outwardly but she is just as explosive as her little sister – perhaps even more so. you talk about blazing a path through their enemies when she finds the opportunity. she bides her time before she strikes tbh

and she isn’t phased a single bit by being ostracized because of her mother and uncle’s actions. she’d much rather just be left alone anyways LMAO. HOWEVER please do try and be frands with her lol eventually she will grow fond ioeghwoeihgwie she’s as soft as she is seemingly cold. haha

[fate-grandorder-imagines]

A Witch’s memories

A/n: I’ve always loved Medea and for some reason I want to ride the pain train right now (which is unusual), so yeah. Have a short drabble of the darkest time in Medea’s life rewritten by me. (You’re allowed to kill me for this)

“Here are the women with ancient anger in their veins  and the cruelty of a goddess in their hearts. 

You will beg before her, you will scream;  but Hera never flinched from the words of a mortal, 

so why should she? 

Do not stand in her way.  She will burn down your kingdoms, herself with it,  if it meant your ruin.”

— EURIPIDES, MEDEA

Those memories and actions would always haunt her, over the divide of death and decades that would follow.

She had seen it coming. Even if she had been blinded by the gods and the burning love for a man she betrayed her whole country for. She had felt the ending creeping behind her back but turned a blind eye to it. Every time he smiled at the princess, young and beautiful, something inside her shattered. And yet she decided to believe in him, believe in their love until it destroyed her in one big blow and she could only hold onto the bloodied shards of their love.

He had broken her heart, twisted her whole being into someone her younger self would have feared and abhorred. She had betrayed and killed her loved ones for him, she had endured burning hatred and allegations for him, had devoted her very being to him. She had done anything he asked for, given him whatever he wished for. And yet he abandoned her - after she had abandoned everything for him.

And she, she had been so foolish to give him permission to do so. To let him trample over her, break her heart and shatter her soul. Until Medea, the Princess of Colchis, Medea, the unfortunate Princess used by the Gods, Medea, the young girl with the bright eyes and even brighter soul no longer existed. Until only the scorned, wicked witch was left with nothing but fiery hatred burning in her veins like liquid fire and a bitterness she never thought could take root.

And if the world already decided to brand her as a witch, why shouldn’t she show them how cold and unforgiving she could really be. If the Gods allowed him to destroy her whole life, to make her feel like her soul and her everything were an abomination that should have never existed, then she would pay him back thousandfold. She would bear this grudge until she died or enacted her revenge, whichever came first.

Hatred and thousand other emotions were throbbing through her veins as she drenched the sparkling, silky dress in poison. She continued to rub the gift on the pretty, golden coronet, ignoring her breathing, that came out hitched and interrupted by convulsing sobbing when she remembered his smile. A smile, so genuinely warm with just the right touch of mischief, that it was able to break hearts. A smile, that she would eradicate from his face until he was nothing more but a broken caricature of himself. 

Mercy was better than revenge. Deep inside herself she knew it. But it didn’t undo the shattering devastation she had felt when he left her, it didn’t undo the sharp pain that seared through her veins whenever she woke up hoping this was just a nightmare, only to realize that it was the cold, harsh reality. She wouldn’t forgive, nor would she forget. The world could fall apart, if only she got to enact her revenge.

And so she watched with satisfaction as the princess got engulfed by fire, burning bright and merciless. Smiled, when the princess screamed in anguish while the flames hungrily flickered over her dress, her skin and waving hair, until they caught over to her horrified father. And laughed with malicious glee when she heard his aghast screams upon discovering his dying bride.

And so, the Witch of Colchis was born. Forged in fire and bewrayment she would walk the path of vengeance until it consumed her entirely.

- Mod Silver

[courtorderedcake]

RIPTIDE 2/13

An Enchanted Forest AU where the dark one was never released into the world in a vessel, thus causing a massive shift in timelines. The ogre wars have ravaged kingdoms, untold destruction spanning continents, rulers displaced. Even as the wars sputter to ash, the safest place to be is at sea, and that’s not very safe at all - as Emma and Killian find out, fates intertwined against all odds.

Rated: E/X - heavy content : warnings of assault, rape, noncon, just everything, I feel like the rating says enough. It’s something.

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS TRIGGERING CONTENT. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Read on Ao3 HERE .

Chapter II : Mist

There are things of which I may not speak; There are dreams that cannot die; There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, And bring a pallor into the cheek, And a mist before the eye. -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When Zelena summoned her to her chambers, Emma was sure she’d been discovered. It had been months since Walsh had forced her into illicit nights of his mouth on hers, and his hands groping ever farther into territory she wished lay unexplored. She knew the consequences if Zelena found out, but Granny’s life lay in her hands. She was the closest thing to a mother she’d ever known.

“Emma. I’ve been watching you, you know.” Zelena sat in the small space of her quarters in a plush emerald chair, upholstered in shimmering velvet and lined in golden embroidery. The cabin was narrow with a small window, filled with the chair, candles that were lit haphazardly, a canopied bed that was built into what might have previously been a small closet, a bookshelf, a cedar chest, and a small table covered in bottles. The door closed behind her, and Emma gulped.

“Yes.”

“I’ve noticed what you think you’ve been hiding from everyone.” Zelena smiled deviously, steepling her fingers. The hair on the nape of Emma’s hair stood on end. “Did you really think you could keep it a secret?”

Emma stared into the crimson haired woman’s eyes. “I don’t know-”

”You should embrace it, like I have. It’s a gift, no matter what weak minded fools say.” Zelena made a dismissive motion towards the door, her mouth curling into a sneer. “Magic is nothing to hide.”

”Magic?” Emma let out a breath of relief, her face contorting in confusion. “What are you talking about, magic?”

It was Zelena’s turn to be confused. She blinked several times, her face falling into a confused and astonished expression. “Emma, my pet, your magic. It radiates off you. Honestly- how could you not notice?”

Emma’s heart began to race. “I haven’t ever… I mean, I don’t have-”

”You healed Snow when she fell from the rigging months back. A fall like that should have broken her back.”

“That was luck, she slowed herself by catching some rope.” Zelena shook her head.

“You’ve conjured sunlight during gray days, and when you sing, dolphins and mermaids come near.”

“Mermaids are always seeking pirates to lure to the grave. And dolphins, well…” She swallowed hard. “They think we’ll throw out fish.” The candles in the room seemed to dim.

“Even right now, you’re messing with the candle light. You could be a more powerful sorceress than me even, with the right training.” Zelena’s eyes seemed to grow greener, glittering like a cat who caught the canary.

“No, I believe you are mistaken. Those are all just coincidences. I don’t even know the first thing abou-”

Zelena shot a bolt of green fire at her, and she flinched, smelling the sulfuric flame that she was sure she’d feel licking her with its acid tongue of pain soon. Her hands warmed, but nothing bit her with a burning sting. She peeked one eye open. The flame rested before her, held by a white light flooding from her palms, flickering in the cabin. All the candles were out, the green light coming from Zelena casting an unearthly shadow over everything, tinging the space emerald. Zelena’s face was a sly smile.

“When would you like to begin your lessons, my darling pet?”

  Between magic lessons, her kitchen duties, and Walsh’s continued violations, Emma was growing exhausted. It didn’t go unnoticed by anyone, with the crew more sympathetic than her teacher, who in turn was much more sympathetic than the rank man in back of her.

Walsh pawed her naked breast, grunting with the other hand in his pants, rutting against her ass. She was used to his usual crassness, but he’d been pushing for more of late, seeking to take her as a woman and man joined. Emma had known for years she most likely would never be a woman who was able to save herself for marriage, but she had hoped she’d at least find someone who made her feel something other than revulsion.

A few women on the ship sought female company after unpleasant experiences like her own. Fewer still sought out the occasional male companion or consort, which generally were more common in the uncharted shores or more exotic and inhibited locales. Zelena did not like such places because they didn’t have the finer luxuries she was accustomed to.

And oh was Zelena ever accustomed to fineries, Emma was finding. Zelena has started her off with mapping and studying where various herbs could be found, along with other sundries, talismans, magickal items, and rare stones or gems. Then she’d had her chart merchant courses to create a route that would keep her coffers and apothecary cabinet stocked, and set Emma up with a book making her various unguents and potions for beauty.

Emma had proved to be moderately skilled, Zelena overjoyed and tasking her with studying more arcane magic. The magic was mostly enchanting swords, creating poisons to wipe on blades, bewitching objects, or summoning the elements to do your bidding. Emma found it easy, and spellcraft or elemental magic easier yet. After weeks of practice, she could create a flaming sword, heal small wounds, or conjure a bright burning light in one hand while a rapier was held in the other.

When Emma had found an aging Bradshaw through word of mouth, dragging his sorry hide on board per Zelena’s request for a man to test poisons on, Emma felt a delight that was almost sisterly. Killing Bradshaw with a painful combination of poisons while spittle ran into his graying beard was not quite just desserts. Emma would have given anything to have poisoned the slaver at his prime, when he had whittled away her skin for a laugh. Zelena was beyond impressed at Emma’s aptitude for cruelty and creating poison blends that caused torment. The next morning, Zelena demoted Walsh with a smirk, promoting Emma to First Mate instead. Emma would swear the woman gave her a motherly look, the unease of her company fading.

Eventually Zelena demoted Walsh, no one particularly shocked other than him, his last line of superiority disappearing. To complicate matters, Zelena had praised Emma, stating she was the most skilled in battle and hinted at making her his replacement. Meri had at first been icy, but even she couldn't stay mad for long when watching Walsh sulk was such a delight. Zelena made it very clear what his purpose was on her ship, her personal dandy to keep her satisfied until someone else could fulfill her needs. A toy, a wind up monkey, clattering around for her entertainment only. His anger was palpable on deck every time she called for him. Emma would feel bad if it wasn’t so ironic. Walsh, caught in the same net he cast for her.

Zelena began to trust Emma with more self study but never anything that could truly threaten her own skill. She was a narcissist, but a realist first and foremost. A threat was a threat, and as someone who coveted her possessions, Zelena kept them close to her chest. Or so she thought.

The first thing to escape her, whether in obliviousness or arrogance, was Walsh seeking Emma’s companionship every morning, and Zelena’s bed chambers every night that she summoned him. She was an insanely envious woman, and Walsh had caused a few women to meet her fury by trying to sneak a poke in at brothels under her nose. Emma suspected Zelena didn’t think anyone on the Oz would dare. Truly, Emma wished she could stop the entire disgusting ritual, but Walsh had been prepared.

“This is going to continue as long as it suits my needs,” he’d said as he forced himself into her mouth. “And if you say anything, to anyone, I will make sure that everyone on this ship thinks you initiated it, as well as killing your grandma myself.”

She hated the taste of him, but she hated knowing how easy it would be for him to convince Zelena that she was the instigator. He’d fallen out of favor with Zelena, and she was quick now to call him on his incompetence while using him for her other needs. Instead, after a bloody battle that left Emma breathless from the use of both her magic and blade, Zelena had praised her in front of the crew while chastising Walsh’s failure to do much more than cower.

As it stood, Zelena had just let Emma gain her trust. That trust factored into the second thing Zelena failed to notice - something even Emma barely noticed herself, at first.

Emma realized it slowly, practicing her craft at night and feeling her magic pulse all through the ship like tendrils or veins. She could feel the ocean and its currents, deep into dark waters, the night air and starlight - elements being broken down further and further until everything was light or dark or electric or an unexplainable force. She could feel that force in everything, moving in and out like the breath of some great invisible beast.

And Emma could reach a finger to touch it, if she just pushed, pushed -

A great pair of yellow eyes stared at her, unblinking, the pupil widening and shrinking as it came to focus on her being. At first they stared at each other, and each felt the other. A light and a darkness, one small and one large, one so very young, one ancient but not yet wise. She felt its curiosity as well as her own before she lost hold of the thread, falling back into her body.

She’d woken up sweating to a ruckus on deck. Throwing on her clothes, she joined a small handful of the crew, including Zelena, who were watching the sun come up and join the moon in the sky at an unnatural pace, blinding them and bleaching the night sky in its radiance before dipping back below the horizon again.

“An omen,” Zelena had said, quietly.

“Of what? When has the sun ever chased a still moon, and then raced forward before stopping? What kind of omen is that?” Emma asked, shivering slightly in the now chill air of the returned night.

“A great power has manifested itself. That’s an ancient spell that even I can’t do. It’s in a relic of mine somewhere. Starsphere manipulation, or something.” She yawned, and stretched. “I’m going back to bed. Since all of you are up, you can begin your day early.”

Emma sighed, and returned to the bunks to get dressed for the day. She blinked when she saw the book she’d been reading the night before by candlelight, realizing the cover was well worn and not the book that she thought she’d been studying. Looking at the text of the cover, she couldn’t help the chill that ran up her spine, excitement thumping in her heart like cannon fire.

“SpellKrafte of the Starspheres”.

  Their latest haul had been a success, a ship taken down and heavy pockets for every one of the crew. Emma had run several men through, including the captain who had tried to shoot her with a shoddy pistol, unable to get off the shot before her sword cut through him like a ribbon. She’d smiled into his face, letting him know that her angel looks held back a demon’s blood lust. In the hold, they’d found wine, cheese, fresh fruits, vegetables, spices, and tea; and Zelena was happy to announce the coffers were full again with the gold and jewelry they looted. There were no survivors this time, simply blood, bodies and fire offered to the sea when they had finished stripping the ship. David, Snow, and Emma watched it sink into the black water, a gift happily given for another day of plunder.

When the ship had sank into the sea, Zelena gave orders quickly before going to her ledgers, and Emma took up for her in her absence. She knew everyone but Walsh was pleased that she was now First Mate, her ease and fair hands left little need for the punishments once doled out by Zelena. David maintained the weapons easily, teaching new crew members when Emma or Snow could not, and Meri, along with Fa, had made navigation a breeze. The new worlds were not so new with their residents among them.

Walsh had taken to punishing Emma for his demotion with his body, pulling her aside in the mornings when she woke to help Granny. His needs had gotten lewder and much rougher, and she found herself escaping into thoughts of her duties as he spent himself. It never lasted long, for which she was grateful; he had given up seeking anything but his own pleasure. She’d open her mouth, let him pull down her trousers or hike up her skirts, and pretended she wasn’t thinking of unfurling sails or making sure the gunpowder casks were dry.

If he thought she was bored, he’d give her a heavy handed smack which caused an annoying bruise she’d have to hide, so she tried to show slight interest in his grunts. He’d spill himself down her throat, on the floor of the store room, or more frustratingly in her skirts, hair, or on her breasts. She hated the sticky feeling of him on her skin as it were, but it was better this than letting him fill her - that was the worst. The apothecaries in a few port towns carried several potent herbs that when mixed just right, created a tincture that prevented becoming with child. Although she used it religiously, the risk of carrying some bastard scared her.

Emma never wanted children, and the idea of bringing a child into this world that had hurt her so badly made her skin crawl. Her hands were covered in the blood of men, death an old friend she helped to feed. A child did not belong in this world. She had, at many times, hidden herself for just a few moments, assuring herself that nothing would happen, nothing could happen, the fear too much to bear in an open space. Walsh would occasionally use that fear, talking about forcing her to marry and stay on shore, and on those days, her anger was palpable while frustration at her situation boiled over.

One of the ways she let off her frustration at the arrangement with Walsh was seeking out companions in port towns, finding dandies, the rare male escort, or a woman of the night. Nothing was truly satisfying, and she hated watching someone try and pretend they were enjoying something they weren’t. Even when slightly enjoyable, there was never any reason to go back or any connection.

They made port that night with coin to spend, and Emma made her way into one of the disreputable taverns where she knew trouble would not find her. Sinking into a chair, she drank heartily and let the conversations flow over her, the different crews shouting and jostling each other, many different songs from different lands weaving together into a comforting lull. Walsh had been rougher this morning; drinking helped her forget a hard day’s work on top of the bruises on her hips.

As some men were lured away by women to drop trousers and coin, one of the older patrons began playing away on an accordion to a familiar sea shanty, the liveliness thrumming in the crowd as more voices joined in. One of the bartenders pulled out a fiddle, and the place came alive with drunken singing and dancing. For a moment, Emma let herself smile into her tankard as she drank the spiced ale, enjoying the way her head spun.

When two uniformed officers crossed her line of vision, the smile disappeared. She could feel the tension settle for a moment, before the taller of the two spoke up.

“A round on me, and my little brother. Tomorrow we leave, and tonight you have the finest ale.” His shout was met with a hearty cry of appreciation from the sailors inside, and the music started up again, louder than before. The shorter brother, still wearing his hat, approached the bar near where she sat. She could hear the coins clink behind her.

A tankard appeared to her left, placed down by the younger brother. Following the arm, she looked up into blue eyes, lit with amusement. “Here you go lass.” She blinked at him, watching trays of ale go around to the other tables.

“A toast!” said the taller brother of the two, shouting again. “To fair seas, and fair weather, as far as the horizon goes!” Glasses clinked, and Emma raised hers halfheartedly. Throwing back the remnants of her first ale, she started on the second. The younger brother still hadn’t moved and was too close for her liking.

“Another toast.” Emma bristled. “To better lives, and futures.” he said, and she tried to make it clear she wasn’t interested in company.

Emma snorted. “Sure, mate.”

“Have a little hope darling.” A chair scraped and he was sitting beside her. “You never know what the future holds.”

She stared at him, seeing the glint of hope in his eyes, and felt pity rise in her stomach. He couldn’t be much older than her, but she knew so much better of waiting for brighter futures. She wanted to scream at him, tell him she had seen what his king sent men to their deaths for; that in ports all over the world, there were men that were once like him. Men that were now broken husks, full of loss.

Instead, she whispered curses softly under her breath.

“What was that lass?”

She smiled sadly. “I said, I wish you good luck, Lieutenant.” she lifted her tankard.

He smiled brightly, tapping her tankard with his. Quickly, Emma drank the rest of her ale before pulling out her chair and leaving through the open door. The night air felt good, crisp and cleansing on her face, and the moon was high in the sky, leaving plenty of light to guide her down the street. She hadn’t realized how much she had drank, her cheeks felt warmed. At this point, holding her liquor and keeping her footing were never problems unless something very strong was involved, even if she felt a little dizzy.

“Hey, hey wait-” he called out to her, and Emma turned around to appraise him. He swayed slightly, and she sighed. Not used to holding his drink yet either. Burying any emotion, she composed herself before he approached. The last thing she wanted tonight was this poor boy trying to keelhaul her; he’d lose a hand and she’d get a lashing from Captain Zelena.

“Yes?” she asked, letting the bite of irritability shine through.

“I know this isn’t good form, but I-” He stepped towards her and she could see under starlight that he’d lost his hat, his jet black hair falling out of his pulled back style. “I wanted to ask you if you’d give me a kiss for good luck.”

Emma sighed. Sailor superstition was rife, but this was ridiculous.

“You don’t want a kiss from me, mate. I’m cursed. You’ve better luck finding a toad to press your lips against.” She turned away again, and he gripped her wrist.

“I may have better luck with the toad, but I’ve asked you.” He looked down at her through dark lashes and she felt flush color her cheeks and ears. “You're beautiful, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.” He flushed, nervously scratching behind his ear. “I may have had too much to drink, and I’m usually not this forward, but I mean it. You’re stunning.” His words were sincere, ringing completely genuine. Something inside her stomach flipped, causing the bite in the night air to lose its teeth completely.

“Fine, Lieutenant.” She pressed her lips against his, and he pressed back. She’d kissed other sailors, men with chapped lips and stubble, but this was velvet soft, while his tongue asked for entry without demand. He turned his head to deepen it and she obliged, her skin licked with heat. She should have ended this instantly, but he tasted like honey, mint, ale, salt of the sea, and a rich headiness that made her dizzy. He groaned into her, and she bit his lip to illicit another. He pushed her back against a building or a wall, she couldn’t tell; she was breathless and a knee was between her legs.

Hadn’t he mentioned good form? Emma didn't care.

He seemed unsure as she rocked her aching core against his leg. Nothing ever felt like this with Walsh or any other man for that matter- there was never this hunger, the fire burning and wrapping her in a tingling blanket of sensation. She wanted more, eyes widening as she let out a moan into his ear, his fingers wrapping around her waist, his other hand stroking the neckline of her corset.

She reached a hand to his buckle, undoing the ridiculously shiny thing, and pushed down the front of his pants. In the lower streets here, it was common to see lovers, paid or otherwise, enjoying each other’s bodies.

“Here? In the street? I can’t; I don’t do this. We can’t,” he hissed, his voice hoarse. She nodded, tugging on his length, unsure of what had come over her. “We - we shouldn’t.” She licked her palm and continued, and he rutted into her hand. “We should go back and get a room,” he moaned the last word, as she twisted up and down his cock. “Oh, Gods, damn it it all!” His hands pulled down her corset, and he sucked hard on a nipple, plucking at the other. Emma felt like she was being lit, like a gun filled with powder ready to fire.

Was this what the whores in the brothel felt when they wailed into the night? What other sprawled bodies in other shadowed alleys moaned about while people looked away? Hot breath in the crook of their neck, a warm tongue laving their collar bone, a coil that tightened when his fingers found her wet and aching? Oh, his fingers!

He curled them in her, whispering how wonderful she’d feel around him, how she probably tasted like heaven. He found a sensitive spot, and she ground down on his hand. His fingers left her and she whimpered, wishing he would keep that sweet pressure on her. He instead stroked his shaft with his wet fingers and slowly, reverently, sheathed himself.

Her body trembled, and they held each other forehead to forehead for a small time. This wasn’t just sex. This was making love, or rather with the love absent, fucking for pleasure. Walsh was sex, and nothing more; this dark haired lieutenant was a push to lunacy; his body pressed into hers so tightly with the brick biting her back, his first movements making them both moan lowly.

His eyes were blown out, as she pushed his hair out of his eyes, feeling the beginning of something low in her belly rising like the breath you search for as you drown. They found a rhythm, rocking with each other sloppily. She let out a laugh that he mirrored with a grin when they fumbled for a moment and she almost slipped. He dug into her deeper, making her toes curl, her noises becoming needy pants on his shoulder as she dug her nails in his back.

“There! Fuck, yes, there!” she moaned. The new angle had him gripping her hips, sinking her body on his with groans of pleasure. The drag of him inside, hitting spots in her that had been so neglected, had that coil in her belly tight once again. Everything was taut, tense and waiting, waiting to feel something she’d been chasing for so long. She’d never gotten this close before. She felt like one of the moths that circled lanterns at night so close to heat.

”That’s it lass, come for me,” he groaned, moving faster, and the pleasure she felt had her writhing. It was euphoric, and then it was more; starlight ran in her veins, pumping through her heart to shoot back to her fingers and toes. She felt her body tighten and spasm as she cried out into his neck. He whispered into her ear how beautiful she was, sweet things that had her eyes feeling glassy, kissing her and keeping her on a sword’s edge that caused her thighs to quiver. It continued as he took, burying himself as deep as he could into her body, letting out a shuddering moan as he pulsed.

They panted into each other’s shoulders, tightly gripping each other. She snuggled into his embrace, her skirts shifting, and his cock softening. He kissed her temple as she adjusted herself with a shy smile. In this moment, drunk and soft, body sated and held tight, she let herself be vulnerable. Hazy thoughts of blue eyes, dark hair, reddened lips, and the golden buttons of his uniform that pressed into her skin broke down long standing walls. If she believed in fate, this moment would be destiny.

“See. You never know what the future holds,” he whispered into her ear, tucking back a blonde strand of hair. He let her down carefully, pulling himself from her and tucking himself back into his trousers. He helped her pull up her corset to her surprise, and pressed soft kisses to her neck. 

“You shouldn’t go.” It crept out of her lips before she could stop it. He blinked slowly like waking from a dream.

“Shouldn’t go? Where?”

Her voice was a harsh whisper. If she could save one person from the hell of dying for the King’s greed, she’d try. Especially this man, so young and full of life, who believed in good form and telling her she was beautiful.

“You shouldn’t go to whatever hellscape the king is sending you to. He only sends men to their death. It’s not my place, but please -” His hand covered her mouth, and the moment was broken. A cloud covered the moon, darkness falling over them.

“What you say is treason,” he hissed, slowly releasing her and moving back a step. She shook herself, walls coming back up with no effort, meeting his eyes. “You shouldn’t say such things.”

“Do not trust your king. You’ll die if you listen to his lies. ” She watched his face harden with resolve.

“You know nothing about me, our king, or our mission.” His eyes darkened like the sky above. “We seek to end the last encampments of ogres. We’ll be saving people and children that these foul creatures kill. We will be heroes and free men!”

Emma was about to speak, to tell him about real freedom, but a voice broke the silence.

“Brother!” Someone was shouting, and he pulled away to look. “There is ale still to be drank and the night is young!” Her heart hammered in her chest, and she steadied herself. The spell was shattered, and not every man could be saved. Even this one that quickened the beat of her heart insistently. Pulling her cloak up over her head, she moved from him, pushing him aside. To her surprise, he moved to catch her arm, his footfalls behind her. They broke into a run through the town’s smoky corridors.

“Wait!” he called after her, but she knew her way through the alleys and back streets, twisting until she was back in front of The Emerald Envy of Oz. She made her way to the gangplank.

David stared at her coldly. He earned his nickname, Charming, by his expressionless face in battle and his quiet demeanor that hid a sharp tongue. She nodded at him in greeting, straightening her skirted breeches and corset under her cloak. David cocked an eyebrow, and she blushed red in only the way a sibling can embarrass you and make you angry at the same time.

“It’s not what it looks like.” She stomped up the gangplank.

David grunted. “It never is.”

“Some Navy fool shipping off tomorrow for his first bloodbath wanted a kiss.” She threw herself down on a crate, folding her arms.

Another grunt, and a snorted laugh. “So he won’t be making it to see the waters, dear sister?”

She grinned salaciously. “He’ll live, for tonight, at least. And he’s in much better spirits. I gave him a bit more than a kiss to comfort him when he dies for his King.” She winked, and watched her brother’s body stiffen, ears beginning to flush.

His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “Things I didn’t and never want to know. Disgusting. Hopefully he dies, so I don’t have to slit his throat instead.”

Looking out over the waves, she sighed suddenly defeated. “He will. If he survives, he’ll wish he was dead.”

Her brother came to sit next to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. They sat together listening to the waves until the stars began to fade, letting words that were unnecessary between them go unspoken.

  The smell of gunpowder was acrid in her nostrils as Emma boarded the small merchant ship, landing with a thud. She pulled out her rapier and lit a fireball in her other hand that glowed with an unearthly shimmer of white light. The man before her looked horrified, and his knees shook as he fumbled to pull his own sword. He never got the chance, her rapier making quick work and spattering blood as she moved through the crew with little difficulty.

A sword nicked her shoulder, held by a portly man who sneered at her. “Witch! You pirate witch, I’ll see you hanged like the filth you are!”

Emma felt her shoulder throb, her magic pulsing in time with the pain. It flickered, and she tried to focus on parrying the saber this man kept slamming down towards her. She gritted her teeth, trying to hit this man with a blast that would knock him from her and give her some distance. Her magic wouldn’t comply, though. She tried healing her shoulder and ended up searing the wound.

“Emma! Get it together!” Zelena shouted, her own sword clanging as she took on a fight of her own.

The portly man slammed down over and over on her rapier, his saber blade much heavier, and Emma saw the strike coming in slow motion. She put both hands up, reaching deep and let go, her magic uncontrolled and wild. The man was blasted back, hitting a broken piece of wood with a wet smack. To her horror, her uncontrolled blast had also thrown a few of her crewmates.

She ran to help them as part of the merchant crew launched a boat with as much as they could carry. Zelena screamed orders, but with no dinghy to give chase immediately and both ships locked together, it was fruitless. When the rest of the merchant crew was dead, Zelena grabbed Emma by the hair and dragged her below deck.

“What was that? Control your magic! You could have killed us, and our haul would be cut because of your pure incompetence!” Zelena was livid, eyes shining. “You will be training with me at night as well as every afternoon, until you can wield your magic with pinpoint accuracy through any type of pain or distraction.”

Emma could only gulp and nod, Zelena’s rage practically turning her green.

The members of the merchant crew that escaped turned out to be a blessing in disguise, however.

Word spread of a female run ship sailing the sea with no quarter. One that had a witch with magic white as swan wings, an archer that could shoot a single snowflake, a quiet swordsman who didn’t mince his charming words, and a crazed captain that would spill anyone’s blood to get her pretty things.

  News spread quickly, like wildfire through dry wood or a storm over rough seas.

It wasn’t a fortnight gone when they noticed the dot on the horizon, a fast moving ship in full regalia seeking nothing other than to end the threat posed. A navy frigate. Meri had spotted it while whittling a wooden bear in the crow’s nest whistling down to Fa. She and Fa seemed to share a code made of looks and small signals, practically reading each other’s minds. Emma wondered often if they had taken each other as sapphics, or common wives, but never cared to ask.

Emma still helped Granny in the morning, met with Walsh to her growing disdain and frustration, trained with Zelena, tended to her duties, kept the books and logged their goods, trained again with Zelena, did final nightly inspection, and then collapsed in bed for a few hours of sleep. The practice had Emma lit like a candle at both ends, unable to stop the flow of magic through her body. Her body felt worn, and magic crackled in her fingertips every morning as she chopped vegetables and fruits or kneaded dough.

Granny had taken to needing more help, to the point that David had started helping her clean up at night, occasionally with Snow keeping him company. Watching her brother bonding with someone else was a highlight for Emma. She loved to hear his low laughter as Snow talked to him, her legs swinging from her seat on the counter while she ate an apple.

Granny knew that she was struggling as well, and begged Emma to push Zelena to pick up her granddaughter who could help and fight as well - but Zelena wasn’t receptive to anything but fighting off the coming assault.

Several mornings to Emma’s delight, either her magic or the smell of onions on her skin had warded Walsh from some of his fouler acts. He’d also been less rough, and she held out hope that he was finally growing bored of her and her disinterest. As long as he had Zelena to stick his cock in and stay in her favor, he still got his special privileges. Emma did dread him ever saying anything about these forced trysts, and knew that if they did end, she could be in danger of blackmail or worse.

Zelena was unaware of anything but the coming battle. The fear consumed her, and she studied the Navy ship’s pattern as well as books on its form. It would have at least sixty guns, a large crew full of experienced forces, and have a sturdy build for defensive maneuvers. She’d laid out what spells she’d need, and Emma and her worked non-stop to make a working defense.

The first step was an invisibility powder and a protective charm. Then, they’d enchant the cannons for accuracy and to fire on their own. Finally, they needed to enchant weapons so they could hold an enchanted flame or freezing shock. Zelena didn’t want this fight; normally offensive, there was nothing to gain from battle, which left her on the defense. She wanted to scare these Navy men. Let them see the witches and the women with the flaming weapons. Let them see the men who served, and the grace they wielded a sword that chilled an enemy to the bone. Emma mixed satchels of herbs, gunpowder, and magical poultices which created smoke that would bring on sleep or paralyzation.

When the sun rose in reds and purples, Meri whistled to Fa, a loud and high pitched sound that twisted at the end. Fa ran to Zelena, waking her.

“Captain, there’s a second ship. It was following closely behind the first.” Fa gasped, hands on her knees.

Zelena’s reply was graceful and eloquent.

“Shit.”

  They held their breath as the Navy ships approached, obviously confused. A ship disappearing was unheard of unless sailing in shipwrecked waters, and a ship as large as The Emerald Envy of Oz didn’t just lift off the face of the sea. That was, of course, part of Zelena’s plan. The ships stopped at a small, anchored dinghy, a dummy sitting prone in its curved hull. Zelena nodded to her crew, and they watched with weapons ready as the navy sent a small boat to survey the anchored decoy.

Emma waited for Zelena’s signal, biting her lip.

A man stepped into the dinghy, hauling the dummy up, and he waved a handkerchief. Zelena saluted Emma, and Emma took a deep breath. She felt every muscle in her body tense, and the crackle of her magic rose up through her hair, wind swirling around her.

The dummy exploded, blowing the man to smithereens, and spurting strange purple goo that covered both navy ships. It stretched like tentacles, the consistency of thick molasses. Terror swept through the crews, some men stuck in the concoction, others trying desperately to get them free while getting stuck themselves. Emma laughed with wry amusement when a high ranking official jumped off the side of the ship to escape a blob. Other men tried to hit the substance with anything they had around, finding it able to hold even the heaviest barrels in its viscous grip.

Emma’s hands filled with light again, and Zelena watched with ecstatic glee as she raised them while performing the enchantment, gold spreading to their cannons. It was done. Leaning back against the mast, Emma took deep breaths as sweat beaded her brow. Zelena in turn cast a quick charm on their weaponry, lighting them with her signature green flame. Emma pulled out her own rapier, letting it light green, and joined the line of her crew.

As their ship moved closer to the goo-covered frigate and its companion, Emma smiled at the names scrawled on their hulls, now obscured. The Jewel of the Realm, now the Ew th Ream in its jellied form, on one side and the larger ‘Feared Avenger’, its own letters also covered by goo, making it the Red Ven. Without a nullifying charm, they’d be stuck for days like this.

When they were close enough to the larger ship, Zelena gave Emma one last signal. With a wave of her hand, their cannons began their enchanted firing and the invisibility charm fell. Shouts and screams of pure horror filled the air, the Navy unprepared for this level of an ambush. Her fellow crew mates answered with a roar of war cries, enchanted blades shining in the sun, as they flew to board each of the ships. Emma landed on the Jewel of the Realm with a roll, expertly avoiding the goo, and slashing the first man that ran at her with ease. Parrying attack after attack and letting her sword start fires on the deck as well as on men’s uniforms, she showed her teeth in a wide leer. Men ran terrified, the captain shouting desperately.

Shoving her rapier through another man, she set her eyes on who she assumed was the captain of The Jewel and smiled a predatory grin. The captain was tall, had sandy, coppery blonde curls, and was broad with a muscular build. She had the vague sense she’d seen him somewhere before, but that didn’t matter in this moment. She headed towards him when an attack caught her off guard. She parried back, and her attacker spun, going high. Blocking with her rapier, she aimed a hard kick in his gut, and he fell to his knees. She went to cut his throat, tipping his chin up at her with the point of her blade, when he glared up at her. Neither of them could hide their shock.

“You!?” he said, blue eyes wide and angry. His mouth pulled back into a sneer. The lieutenant she had shared her body with, had warned of death, a self fulfilling prophecy.

“Me,” she said sadly, and let the point of her rapier press into his neck. A small dribble of blood ran down to pool in his collarbone, blooming red in his shirt. Every muscle in her body felt frozen, her mind screamed at her to end his life.

He closed his eyes, and she took a step back, arm raised and unsteady. Emma lowered her wrist, unable to fight a feeling of wrongness.

The captain barrelled in to her with a roar, and she was quickly under him. He had her shoulder pinned and blue eyes that were so like the dark haired man met hers. The brother. He groaned and paled as he looked at her face, his weight crushing her. She looked down and saw her rapier buried deep in his thigh, blood gushing in spurts from a wound that meant certain death.

“Liam!” The dark haired man pulled the giant off of her, rolling him on his back as the sandy haired man turned white. She watched as they held hands, the dark haired man cradling his brother’s head. “Stay with me, stay with me brother. Please, stay with me.”

“Killian, I…” His head lolled, and Emma could see the large man go into shock. His blood coated her hands. For the first time in many years, it made her feel sick.

Emma moved to his side, and ignored the man called Killian’s rage filled protests at her approach. She was vaguely aware that not only was this wrong, it was sheer lunacy on her part. Her body moved out of her volition without regard of why. She pulled her rapier from the bigger brother, Liam’s, thigh. Throwing it aside, it clattered against the deck as she held pressure to the soaked thigh below her hands. Emma felt a blade press against her neck, Killian against her back. Ignoring it, she focused on her magic, knowing she would need to pull from that golden thread to heal something this bad.

“You killed him, you killed him you bitch. I’ll cut your neck and send you straight to hell you demon -”

The spark ignited in her hands as Killian rasped in her ear. White light poured out of her hands, and she pressed on the wound harder, ignoring the bite of the steel. Liam groaned, color returning to his face, his chest heaving with slow effort. The hand at her neck fell away as the man’s wound closed into a faint scar.

She felt the sobs against her back as Liam’s eyes fluttered open. Killian scrambled back to his brother, hugging him tight, as the battle slowed around them and her crew began retreating now that the point had been made. Snow gave a bird call, and they began to return to the Oz.

Emma picked up her rapier, wiping it on her pants, and went to walk away. A hand grabbed her wrist, and she looked down to see Killian’s tear filled eyes.

“I don’t know why you did it, I don’t know how you did it -” He gulped down another sob. “Thank you. Thank you, for -”

“Fuck off, and quit the Navy. You got lucky this time.” Emma pulled away from him, and both brothers stared at her as she carefully swung back onto the Oz’s boarding planks.

David, Walsh, Fa, and Merida poured the prepared potion on the Avenger, releasing its sticky hold on the Jewel. There were minimal casualties, besides David losing part of his finger, and a nasty gash that Fa had on her cheek. Zelena had killed most of the naval crew, and those that had bailed bobbed in the water as she took up her mantle at the wheel. Emma steered the Oz away, and the Avenger followed. Commandeered for their use the sailors watched helplessly, swimming towards the Jewel to be fished out of the water. The Oz and crew now controlled a fleet.

The former captain of The Feared Avenger flopped on the Jewel’s deck, wet and raging mad. He had caught a glimpse of one attacker, a woman glowing gold as she flew through attackers without quarter. A demon from his past sent to punish him and test his worth.

  Captain James Nolan’s dear little sister was a pirate, and she had magic.

[pure-egotism]

“Here are the women with ancient anger in their veins and the cruelty of a goddess in their hearts. You will beg before her, you will scream; but Hera never flinched from the words of a mortal, so why should she? Do not stand in her way. She will burn down your kingdoms, herself with it, if it meant your ruin.”

[callistoscurse]

19

19: Is there a certain quote you live by?Well I live by "there's no point in anything so I migh aswell do it" but that's not really a quote right?A quote I like alot is "Here are the women with ancientanger in their veins and the crueltyof a goddess in their hearts.You will beg before her, you will scream; but Hera never flinchedfrom the words of a mortal,so why should she?Do not stand in her way.She will burn down your kingdoms,herself with it, if it meantyour ruin" By medea :v Ty for the ask!!!

[cavldroncakess-blog]

❝ Here are the women with ancient anger in their veins and the cruelty of a goddess in their hearts. You will beg before her, you will scream; but Hera never flinched from the words of a mortal, so why would she? Do not stand in her way. She will burn down your kingdoms, herself with it, if it meant your ruin. ❞

JACQUELINE CARROW really is the spitting image of SONAM KAPOOR, right? Only TWENTY-FIVE years old, SHE (CIS-FEMALE) is so young to be fighting so many. Yes, a little bird told me that they’re siding with THE NEUTRALS in the imminent war, which is an intriguing stance for a ‘PUREBLOOD’. I’d watch out for them though – they might be PROTECTIVE and RESOLUTE, but they’re also HARSH and ALOOF. ⊰ JO, TWENTY-FIVE, SHE/HER, EST ⊱

INSPO: pinboard and stats page.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: kidnapping, emotional abuse, mentions physical and verbal child abuse, mentions of manipulation, stillborn mention, parental death.

QUICK FACTS: former slytherin, healer/combat healer @ st. mungos, a virgo, dating dorian, and currently 17 weeks ( 4 mos ) preggo.

CONTINUE  ⤷

[viciousheart]

here  are to  the  women  with  ancient  anger  in  their  veins,  and  the  cruelty  of  a  goddess  in  their   hearts.  you  will  beg  before  her,  you  will  s c r e a m.  but  hera  never  flinched  from  the  words  of  a  mortal,  so  why  should  she?  do  not  stand  in  her  way.  she  will  burn  down  your  kingdoms,  herself  with  it,  if  it  meant  your  ruin.