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sssammich · 9 months

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day 30: magic

it is i, completing my supercorptober mission. final story for my sctober. this had a separate prompt that i originally tried to attach to it but that was comedy and this is...not.

if you feel like reading this (along with the other chapters on ao3), then click here to read.

thanks x

crepe AU: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 day 19: hazy, day 22: art, day 24: enchanted, day 30: magic

---

It’s hollow, the victory.

Anticlimactic, even.

She’s not sure how to proceed when the dust settles and the world is looking at them—eyes brimming with some combination of curiosity, disbelief, and horror.

Her magic beamed into Supergirl’s heart as she’d always intended, and she watched the hero dramatically writhe in agony, the electricity crackling through her blue veins until she fell unconscious.

As she stands right above the exhausted and unconscious body of Supergirl—because she’s not a killer (unlike her failed brother), she notes that the fallen hero almost looks peaceful. Her blonde hair has fanned out and her head is tilted slightly to the side, exposing the column of her neck where remnants of the electric blue streaks are still lit up until they finally dissipate.

The silence that engulfs everyone around them—good guys and bad guys alike—is nothing compared to her tempestuous heartbeat thundering in her ears, her pulse a torrential storm as she makes sense of this new world.

The Demon Queen has defeated Supergirl once and for all.

—

Her henchmen act as makeshift pallbearers as they carry Supergirl’s unconscious body from the center of National City and into the portal to her secret lair. Which isn’t so very secret at all, not when it’s located at the top floor of a National City downtown highrise. Why bother hiding elsewhere when she can do so in plain sight?

She hears the screams from the so-called Superfriends as they attempt to run after and rescue their precious hero, but those sounds are quickly silenced when she closes the portal. They yammer and scream every time they do this song and dance, so she’d rather not hear their squawking during her victory lap.

With a flick of her hand, she signals to her henchmen to gently place Supergirl’s unconscious body on the table. Another flick and they dutifully file out of the room with the last of them softly closing the double doors with a soft click.

She takes her decanter from the bar cart and pours herself three fingers deep of her favorite whiskey. Humans may be imbeciles, but their liquor game is quite impeccable.

She does not move from her spot and instead takes one big swig of her drink, the alcohol warmly traveling down her throat and into her belly. She’d finally captured the superhero, ready to mold her into whatever she desired as she attempts to take over the world. She had anticipated this taking a little while longer, but she instead pats herself on the back for her efficiency.

She places her glass back on the counter and slowly makes her way towards the hero. Her hand hovers above Supergirl’s still peaceful face and is about to summon a spell that will wake the superhero, when blue eyes open causing her to jump back, startled at the now conscious woman in front of her trying to get up.

Supergirl groans before slowly pushing herself up into a seating position while she, with eyes practically bulging out of her head, stares in disbelief.

“Ugh, did the power go out?” Supergirl asks, her voice gravelly even as she swings her legs by the side of the table. She is still frozen where she stands as she tries to process how and why Supergirl has managed to wake up.

Horrified, she can only stare at the superhero in front of her. “What?”

Supergirl looks up at her, the blue of her eyes so apparent and striking in the light of her lair that she momentarily forgets who she is, who Supergirl is, and what it is that they’re doing here right now.

Supergirl attempts to stand, arm reaching forward towards her with far too much familiarity. So in a move that’s very much unbecoming of the Demon Queen, she panics , and she waves her hand so that Supergirl immediately falls back asleep, slumping back onto the table with a thud.

—

When Supergirl wakes up for the second time, she has placed her in one of the special holding cells. She’s leaning back in her chair, her legs folded at the knee, and her hands joined together and resting on her thigh.

She’s been sitting right outside of the cell of the sleeping superhero trying to make sense of what transpired earlier. She surmises that the only reason for Supergirl to have prematurely woken up is due to her alien DNA and her demonic magic reacting volatilely with one another. Regardless of whatever confusion she might temporarily feel, she mustn’t let her guard down especially considering that Supergirl is now within her lair.

Silently, she watches as Supergirl rubs at her eyes, languidly stretching. Her arms rise above her head, lifting the shirt that she’s been changed into so that Lena catches a sliver of a tan and muscled midsection. Supergirl then places her feet flat on the ground and sits on the edge of the bed, her face betraying nothing of her thoughts and feelings like she hadn’t just been shot, like she hadn’t just been taken hostage by her demonic nemesis.

Supergirl fully opens her eyes and scans the room, her face finally taking stock of her surroundings. Then, Supergirl turns to look at her and smiles.

“Good morning, baby.”

She stills—her entire body frozen at being called a pet name, least of all by Supergirl. Instead, her face expertly dons a menacing scowl and electing not to say a word. Supergirl must have sensed that when she frowns for a second and then amends her statement.

“Good afternoon?”

Her scowl deepens.

“Good evening?”

She shakes her head in confusion and disappointment before waving her hand. Just like earlier, Supergirl falls back to sleep, slumping back down on the mattress. She sighs and stands from her seat and walks up the stairs back to the main floor of her lair.

—

Supergirl wakes for the third time, and this time she is prepared. (Or so she says.)

The superhero continues to stir and pushes herself up, the motions an exact copy of her movements from the last time.

“You’re finally awake.”

“I feel like a train hit me.” Supergirl opens her eyes more fully and frowns when she glimpses at her current predicament. “Babe, what’s going on? Why am I—”

“Excuse me? I’m no one’s babe.”

Supergirl snorts and shakes her head, but when Lena doesn’t join her, she stops and her face transforms to a confused frown. “Uh? What’s going on, baby?”

“I said—” she growls but stops herself knowing that it’s not much of an upper hand against the superhero if she’s the one riled up. “What are you playing at?” she asks with a frown.

Supergirl’s face scrunches in confusion. “What do you mean? I just woke up. I haven’t done anything.”

She clenches her jaw and her gaze hardens. “Do you think this is a game?”

“What’s going on, sweetheart? And why am I in this weird room?”

Frustrated, she shoots out of her seat and slams her hand on the glass and Supergirl starts, but doesn’t move back. The fright in Supergirl’s eyes surprises her more than the fact that she’s jumped out of her seat, reacting beyond her normal blasé passivity.

“Whatever mind game you’re trying to play, it’s not going to work. You can’t fool me.”

Supergirl rushes forward despite being encased in reinforced glass as she stands directly in front of her. Her hands flatten against the glass until their palms are pressed up to each other save for a few scant centimeters between them. Her tanned face is awash with concern and confusion. “Hey, what’s going on? Talk to me. What’s all this?”

“What kind of fool do you take me for, Supergirl?”

“Supergirl? What kind of weird kinky name is that? Baby, it’s me, Kara.”

She steps back, her mouth agape. With a quick and panicked wave of her hand, she watches as Kara crumples to the ground unconscious.

—

She sulks in her office as it overlooks downtown National City. The idiots over at the DEO are still running around doing their best to look for their fallen hero. Meanwhile, their fallen hero is fast asleep down the hall because Lena isn’t sure what she’ll find when she wakes Supergirl next.

She’s not rattled.

She’s not concerned.

She’s not—

“Your Majesty?”

She glances at Jess, her ever reliable right hand woman, who is standing patiently at the door.

“Yes?”

“She’s awake.”

“Very well.”

She takes her sweet time walking towards the holding cell and by the time she arrives, Supergirl is already waiting for her. She’s leaning against the far wall, her ankles crossed, her arms held over her chest. She waits in the shadows, carefully eyes the steadiness in Supergirl’s body language: broad shoulders are tense, fingers fidgeting against the hemline of her buttoned shirt, brows furrowing as eyes intensely stare at the ground.

That woman is Supergirl, and she knows it.

Yet when she allows the sound of her heels to click against the floor as she walks out of the shadows, the startled jump from inside the cell hints at otherwise. She banishes the thought, though, knowing it foolish to readily hand her enemy power she knows they don’t have.

She doesn’t say anything immediately, and it seems her held prisoner follows suit. Until, of course, Supergirl ushers forward with balled fists against the glass pane.

“Baby, can you tell me what’s going on?”

She immediately scowls at that. “Do not call me that. I am not your baby.”

Aghast, Supergirl steps back, despondency written all over her face. “ Lena. Please.”

At the utterance of her name for the first time in decades —one she barely recognizes as her own after burying it so deeply in the corners of her mind as a last means of her own survival only to be upended so easily by the woman in front of her now.

“How do you know my name?!” she bellows as she pushes forward, magicking away the glass divider between them. Supergirl falters even further until the back of her legs hit the mattress and she’s falling on her back and scrambling to get away. Lena brings a hand up and instantly produces a sickly green dagger—a weapon made entirely with Kryptonite—poised to stab Supergirl if the woman so much as dares to move a single muscle.

Supergirl has her arms up to cover her face, the blue of her eyes completely blanketed with fear, her hands visibly trembling in the loosened fists she holds up against Lena. Yet she utters words that cut and penetrate deeply into Lena’s entire soul.

“Wh—what do you mean? It’s me! Kara! We’re—Lena, you’re my wife!”

—

Pathetic. That’s how she feels as she stares out of her office building overlooking National City.

She thinks about what had just transpired an hour ago—the way in which Supergirl, in all of her arrogance and righteousness to fight with her, has never once looked fearfully at her, has never once looked scared. Until now.

And wife?

Lena can’t stand it. Not when her ostracization and loneliness all of her life has become its own companion, a guarantee and promise to herself that she can rely on—all but gone at a silly notion as someone’s partner, someone’s equal, someone’s beloved.

She is and has none of those.

—

“Explain to me what happened to you.”

She walks in without preamble standing right by the glass pane once again.

Supergirl—no, Kara, she says—takes a moment of carefully eyeing her. Lena responds by crossing her arms over her chest, gripping her own biceps tighter for reasons she can’t quite determine just yet, and throwing a challenging quirk of her brow at the woman in front of her.

“Are you going to threaten me again?”

Her initial response is to scoff, yet when she does, she’s met with a sad and hurt pout in front of her.

“No,” she says, wondering why she would agree to such a thing. She reminds herself somewhat belatedly that she doesn’t have to adhere to anything she doesn’t want to. She’s not the prisoner here. “Explain.”

Kara straightens up slightly, her hands running up and down her thigh as she scrunches her face in thought. “Um. Well. All I really know is that I was sitting in front of my computer trying to finish the article about the Alien Refugee Act that recently passed. I was definitely procrastinating on it even though it meant a lot to me, so you said that I wasn’t allowed to leave the apartment until I had finished it. You promised me that you’d come home as soon as I got done with the draft—which, you know, I don’t love it when you make deals like that but I have to admit is really effective…”

At this point, Kara has risen to her feet and is now pacing, her arms flailing around her as she explains herself. Lena’s mind is reeling as more words come out of Kara’s mouth, none of which make any sense to her at all. Least of all the implications that she and Kara were some type of—

“Anyway, I was just about to type up the last of my notes and complete this one paragraph I’d been struggling with when there was this random surge of electricity that hit me through the tips of my fingers, like the laptop shocked me or something…”

“You felt electricity?” she interrupts, sitting up slightly, but Kara just continues talking.

“Then…then I wake up here and find myself in this weird, uh, room. But then every time I try to talk to you, you keep putting me to sleep.”

Lena raises her hand causing this Kara to wince and jump, defensively putting her hands up as if to stop her despite the glass separating them. Lena has completed the move and Kara crumples to the ground with a slight thud before she can even react to what she’d just seen.

She stares at Kara’s unconscious body, unsure of herself.

With her magic, she levitates Kara’s body back on the bed and tugs the blanket so that she can put it over Kara’s frame, tucking her prisoner in bed. Lena has no earthly idea what compels her to do that. With a final scrutinizing gaze at the sleeping woman in front of her, she leaves and heads back to her quarters.

—

The satisfaction that Lena would have enjoyed watching the DEO and the Superfriends search for their caped superhero has completely vanished when she thinks about the fact that if the woman in her holding cell and any of her story is to be believed, then she herself, the Demon Queen, also does not know where Supergirl is.

If it wasn’t so absolutely uncouth to drink straight from her decanter, she would. Instead, she pours a generous amount of whiskey in her glass and gulps it all down in one go, wishing the burn could explain to her what she currently does not understand.

She calls for Jess who promptly walks up to her desk.

“The woman in that cell is not Supergirl. See to it that she’s returned where she belongs. Then get me Supergirl.”

The words hang between them, the truth of the last couple of days laid bare. She does not look at Jess when she says them.

Despite feeling Jess’s eyes on her, she can sense how Jess straightens herself up before making her way back to the door. Then, Lena glances over her shoulder when she hears Jess speak to her.

“I’ll update you as necessary, Your Majesty.”

—

“Can you please stop putting me to sleep? I have a bruise where I keep dropping,” Kara says by way of greeting and pointing at her forearm where, in fact, she has a couple of mottled spots that count as bruises.

“No. You don’t have any bargaining power here.”

“Look,” Kara says, putting her hands on her hips—a move that most vividly resembles Supergirl—and directing all of her irritation towards Lena. “You’re clearly upset about something, but I can assure you that whatever it is that you think I did, well, I definitely did not do.”

Her face forms into a sneer when she steps forward until she’s mere inches from the glass. “How can you assure such a thing when you’re not aware of the crime you committed nor hold any power from inside a prison cell?”

Kara bites her bottom lip in thought and Lena pretends she does not see, looking away and making a move to return to her seat.

“Oh my god, Lena, did I—did I commit a crime ?!”

She rolls her eyes, an incredulous laugh escaping before she schools her features. Her name spoken so easily out of this woman’s mouth ought to anger her, ought to be a cause for concern that someone just knows her name. The name that nobody has spoken to her in lifetimes, it feels like.

Yet. Here she is allowing it all the same.

“No. I do not know why you are here. But I have people working to return you to wherever it is that you come from.”

“National City.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m…I live in National City.”

Lena’s face remains passive yet her mind is doing its best connecting the dots and filling in the missing details of the puzzle that is this woman in front of her. Supergirl’s doppelganger lives in their backyard.

“Duly noted.”

Kara seems to accept that, though she maintains a wary eye towards her. Then, she takes a step forward to the glass. “Can you tell me who Supergirl is?”

Lena arches a brow, her curiosity piqued.

“It’s just—you kept calling me that. Before, I mean.”

How can Lena even begin to explain the complicated nature of her relationship with Supergirl, the nemesis who had sworn her off and called her a villain; the catalyst for Lena to become who she is now, leaning into the dark forces that Supergirl had callously deemed inherent within her.

“She is…she is a villain.”

Kara stares at her, curiosity written all over her face before she nods. Then, her eyes turn sorrowful. So much so that Lena has to look away, not wanting to see the pity in a pair of eyes that once upon a time looked at her with something akin to love. “Oh.”

“She ruined my life.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. And for what she did.”

Lena narrows her eyes. “Just like that? You don’t even know what I’ve done in retaliation.”

“That’s true,” Kara starts, walking up closer to the glass until they’re face to face once again. “But nobody looks that angry without having been hurt.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re not the first person to look at me like that, believe it or not.”

She doesn’t wave Kara asleep as she’s done all the other times. This time, she turns on her heels and walks away, feeling eyes stare at her until she disappears from view.

—

She’s monitoring the inept DEO fruitlessly chasing leads about their missing superhero. It offers her mind some place to wander as she tries her best to erase the vision of Kara staring at Lena with such pitying eyes; the gaze of a woman who knows nothing of Lena’s past and her future—who sits quietly in her cell staring into nothing as she awaits her fate.

When she returns to her usual spot at the holding cell later that day, it is to Kara already awake and is sitting in bed, the blanket carelessly covering her legs as her back leans against the headboard. She watches carefully as Kara seems to do her level best in not meeting her eye. Lena decides to wait her out and sits in her usual chair and lets the silence do the work for her. Yet it seems Kara doesn’t seem fazed with the silence or the scrutiny.

Lena’s not sure how much time has passed between them, but Kara only stares directly in front of her and doesn’t give Lena the time of day. Perhaps for the best, Lena notes, but she wonders what has happened since the previous day.

“Nothing to say to me?” she asks aloud, her piercing eyes focused on Kara’s every movement.

Long moments pass between them until Kara finally looks at her, her eyes filled with sadness and fear, underlined with ferocity. She might not be Supergirl, but Lena can tell she’s a fighter.

“I miss my Lena. You’re not my Lena.”

Those words take her by surprise just as they strike her heart down, reacting with a small inhale that she knows is too far from Kara to hear or see. For the first time in a very long time, Lena is devoured by disappointment that she knows she will not be able to shake off or get over for years to come.

“No, I’m not.”

—

“We have discovered Supergirl’s whereabouts, Your Majesty.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. She reacted to the Kryptonite as expected. We have taken her and put her in a holding cell for now.”

“And what of the other one?”

“She has been returned.”

“And her memories?”

“Wiped as instructed.”

“Good. That’ll be all.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

—

From a projector in Lena’s office, she watches as Kara walks into an apartment with two bags of take-out, setting them on the kitchen counter.

“Lena? Baby? I’m home.”

Her eyes narrow as a brunette woman saunters out of the master bedroom with a bright smile on her face, wearing an oversized sweater and jeans, and beelines for Kara. She wraps her arms around Kara’s neck and greets her with a kiss.

It is Lena, in another life. It is Kara’s Lena—the one that the Demon Queen does not recognize, can barely fathom to exist. A Lena who is happy and loved.

“Welcome home, darling. Did you get the usual?”

“And the garlic focaccia bites you’ve been craving. Just like you asked.”

“Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite?”

Kara smiles down at her wife, her arms protectively wrapped around her middle. “You’re free to tell me every day of your life.”

They share another slow kiss, basking in the presence of the other. They eventually untangle and prepare for dinner.

The Demon Queen waves her hand and the projector shuts instantly. She closes her eyes for a moment, the image of a happy union between Kara and Lena seared into her memories. When she opens them again, she wipes the solitary tear that has escaped from the corner of her left eye.

She takes a deep breath and walks towards the holding cells.

—

She stands in front of familiar glass, not too different from the one she’d grown accustomed to standing in front of in the last week. The woman inside is slouched on the side of the bed.

“Supergirl.”

The woman’s eyes snap up towards her, cutting blue eyes watching her every move. Calculating. It’s familiar, though Lena aches at the sight of it. Still, she does not show weakness, instead languidly makes her way past the glass that disappears as she walks. Supergirl attempts to get up, but invisible chains keep her down until Lena gracefully leans down, runs a finger down Supergirl’s jaw.

“Demon Queen. You won’t get away with this.”

There is no sign of her old name—their old life—in the way Supergirl looks at her, and Lena sighs in relief at that. This—the anger and the pain and the hatred, she can work with. It is fuel for her.

“You have no powers here, Supergirl.”

She departs soon after, lessens the hold she has on Supergirl’s powers enough to tempt the now captive hero to use her heat vision against her retreating form. Supergirl takes the bait, cries out in anger and concentrates her heat vision even as it gets absorbed into the glass wall.

This, she knows. This, at least, she can handle.

This, she will settle for.

#supercorp #supercorp fic #supercorp fanfiction #sctober 2023 #supercorptober 2023 #samfic #god i cannot believe it's over i've done it #dedicated to:#@lovesastateofmind1

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