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fandom-necromancer · 5 years ago

Text

1151+1153. “Shut up and kiss me.” “Stay with me forever.”

This was prompted by the awesome @anxiousmessofaperson! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: mentioning of severe injury, temporary character death (both for an android))

An android’s processor was always active. Always running millions of tasks, calculating and pre-constructing. And the processor of an RK900 was the most advanced ever created. That allowed him to analyse their planned tactic for today’s mission over and over again, thinking of all possible outcomes and complications, and simultaneously preparing his partner a coffee. He gladly helped the human and would likely do anything for him. Unfortunately, Gavin Reed had only ever asked for a coffee. Nines had joined forces with Tina for that reason, but even his best friend wasn’t able to have a serious talk with him. Still, they would not back down. If Nines could be anything then persistent.

He continued to let two sugar cubes fall into the thermos and started stirring. He should get back to them, but he decided to linger as he overheard Gavin and Tina speak to each other. Apparently, he had taken too long for the human and he had decided to pass the time with a chat. ‘Did you ever think of dating an android?’, Tina asked, and Nines immediately had his hearing amplified. ‘Hah! Why are you asking?’ Of course, Gavin would evade the question and laugh it off. ‘Found someone?’ ‘Maybe.’ Nines could practically hear her smile. He knew a specific receptionist had caught Tina’s eye. But that was their secret. ‘But don’t you chicken out now. Would you?’ ‘Pff… You know, I would have given a clear no just a few months ago. But with the revolution and all… Maybe? I don’t know, I would have to know one for that first, I guess.’ ‘Hmm… You know Connor?’ ‘Are you shitting me? Plastic Detective sent by my brother’s phcking empire? Hell no. Never. I mean, he looks alright and all that but… Hey, I would also have a buy one get two deal going whatever his relationship with Hank is. And… no, I’m a disaster myself, I don’t need another one.’ ‘What’s with Nines then? You know him, too. And he basically has the looks of Connor but sharper.’

Needless to say, the coffee was forgotten by now.

‘Nines?’ It stayed quiet for some time. The laughter: ‘Come on Tina! That’s Nines.’ ‘And?’ ‘Have you seen the tin-can? He’s all cold calculation and his missions. Hadn’t I known him pre-deviation, I would have said the thing’s still a machine.’ ‘He has a lot of emotions, Gavin and you know it.’ ‘Yeah, anger and fury and an overall sense of not-my-phcking-problem. That’s not emotions, Tina, that’s a defence mechanism. It’s not like he could feel anything that is nice, it’s not like he could be earnestly passionate. And it’s not his fault, I mean, he wasn’t built for that. But I need someone who, you know, wants to be with me because of these feelings, not because it’s what I want.’ ‘I think he likes you a lot.’ ‘Maybe. But it’s not like he would suddenly shout “I love you, shut up and kiss me! Now!” He’s a machine for all it’s worth, Tina. He doesn’t feel anything.’ Nines had to concentrate a good fraction of his processing power to keep his LED on yellow and his hand from crushing the brushed steel of the thermos in his hand. ‘A machine that’s phcking late. Tell him I’m in the car once he decided to re-emerge!’

Nines shook out of it, screwing the lid on and walking out to Tina’s desk. ‘Oh god, Nines, you heard all of it, didn’t you?’, Tina rushed to say. ‘Shit, I’m so sorry! He’s just embarrassed, I’m sure. He knows you feel a lot. And he’s wrong. I just… I was too quick to ask him something like that.’ ‘No’, Nines interrupted her. ‘He is right. I would never shout that.’ ‘But only because you are shy and thoughtful, and he is brash and aggressive! Don’t lose faith, he is just an idiot. But I know the only reason he is like this is because he thinks he isn’t worth you. Give him time and he will be convinced you mean it!’ ‘If you say so. I’m sorry. We have a mission. And I’m late. I should go.’ He left for the front door and Tina watched him walk away. Only then did her gaze stray to her desk and a familiar thermos stand on it. ‘Hey, Nines, you-‘ She looked for the android, but he was already gone. ‘forgot something…’

They pulled up to an abandoned Cyberlife store amidst the abandoned district of Detroit and Gavin killed the engine. ‘Ready, tin-can?’, he asked joyfully. ‘Of course, Detective.’ ‘Oh, so we’re back to “Detective”? What did I do wrong this time?’ ‘Nothing major’, Nines answered as neutral as he possibly could. ‘You just talked.’ ‘Watch out, toaster!’, Gavin mocked, holding a hand to his chest. ‘It sounded almost like you had a sense of humour!’ Nines stayed silent and exited the car. ‘Oh wow’, Gavin sighed, following his partner. ‘So, we are particularly pissed together. What’s happened? Someone hurt your simulated robo-feelings?’ Nines looked the man dead in the eye. ‘Only some prick I thought was my friend.’ Gavin squirmed under his gaze, but like so often laughed to hide it. ‘What, you have friends?’ Nines looked away. ‘You know, sometimes I question that myself… Let’s go, we have work to do.’ ‘Yeah, fine, how do we do this?’ ‘We have worked out a plan together. You know how, Detective.’ ‘Okay, okay! Goddamn, whoever it was who pissed you off, I guess he won’t live long.’

They climbed through a broken window and slipped into the store. It was completely empty, the pedestals for androids on display were barren and only a lone dead android laid in some corner. Well, his torso at least. Where the rest was, not even Nines could reconstruct. They strode through the shop, Nines taking to whichever corner he hadn’t looked at that was also farthest from Reed. They suspected a Red Ice lab somewhere around this shop. All their evidence led to a graffiti that was used as a marker for it on the outer wall. ‘Hey, Nines, has this phcker been moved recently?’ The android decided to ignore the undignified way the Detective referred to a dead body – he had done far worse today – and knelt down in front of the unit. ‘Yes’, he pressed out. ‘Figured. His clothing is raised up. He has been dragged.’ Nines nodded and scanned the body’s shoulders. ‘Fingerprints’, he murmured. ‘Belonging to Axel Bernhardi. Was at the station once already. Attempted theft of an android. Served community service for three months.’ ‘Great. Any clue to-‘ ‘The android has been moved recently’, Nines interrupted and Gavin grunted. ‘Fine. Any clue to where he is then?’ Nines inspected the android’s clothing closer. ‘The body had been pulled from two directions. First up, then from the back into the direction of the wall.’ ‘What?’ Nines stood up and pulled the android away, unveiling a narrow whole with a ladder underneath. ‘Phck, is he still there?’, Gavin whispered and after a quick scan Nines nodded. The human took out his gun and was about to climb down, but Nines held him back. The Detective might have been a total idiot today, but Nines wouldn’t let him slide ass first into danger. He pushed off his white Cyberlife jacket, wriggled himself into the narrow space and scraped along the walls downwards. He heard Gavin following him but concentrated on climbing and listening to any noise from underneath him.

They found back on solid ground in a room that had been excavated by handheld machines. It was newer than the building above, likely dug just to house the lab. They stood in front of a curtain made from milky plastic sheets. Light flooded from behind it covering everything in a cold glow. Someone was moving behind the curtain, Nines suspected it to be Mr. Bernhardi. He held his finger to his lips before taking his own gun and taking position in front of the curtain. Gavin stood behind him ready to jump on his notice.

Nines counted down from three with his right hand, then they both entered, shouting: ‘DPD, away from the table!’ The red-haired man was shocked to the bone and stared at both of them speechless. Thankfully he stepped back from the table and another step into the room. Only then did Nines have the chance to scan the room and regretted his manoeuvre immediately. The first thing he noticed was an escape route dug into the water drainage system of Detroit. The second was a big red button on the wall. The third that the man was side eyeing the button and the fourth that it led somewhere behind them. All of that was detected in the same second Mr. Bernhardi decided that attempted theft wasn’t enough to his folder. He jumped to the side, pressed the button and darted out of the room into the sewers. Gavin reacted fast enough to shoot but missed and Nines had reacted even faster than Gavin had, throwing himself on the Detective as behind him the bomb went off. The impact made them scoot across the floor and ripped apart Nines entire back hull, but the human was okay, Gavin was okay. And he himself was okay too. Technically. For the next few seconds. Enough to realise the structural integrity of the room was failing. He picked himself and the Detective groaning underneath him up and ran to the escape route. The room would collapse every second now, but the sewer system would hold out. He managed to get himself to the edge of the room as it collapsed and Gavin had recovered enough to pull him out after him before the rubble slid into the canal. ‘Oof, that was close…’, Gavin panted, adrenaline still flushing his body. ‘Hey, tin-can, you okay?’ No. The seconds that Nines had been okay had run out now. The little rivulet in the canal was quickly more Thirium than water and Nines couldn’t even begin to process the damage warnings coming into view. ‘Ga…vin…’ ‘Shit! Nines!’ The human was immediately next to him. ‘Nines! What’s wrong? Hey, Nines!’ The android wasn’t capable of clear thoughts anymore. All he knew that there was so much damage, so much, so much. He felt the Thirium depleting and his systems running burning hot as a result. He knew he would shut down soon and he wasn’t sure he was repairable. There were so many warnings and notices… He didn’t want to stop existing. There was so much left to do, so much left to say. Despite everything he still wanted to tell Gavin what he felt and hopefully the human would allow it. Gavin… Where was he? Was he still there? Had he left him behind like the useless piece of plastic he was? Was he off chasing the criminal, Nines’ death only a footnote in some report? Maybe repairing him would be too expensive. But Gavin would want that, right? They were a good team, right? ‘Ga…vin?’ His hands searched for purchase and they grabbed something, although Nines didn’t know what that was. He hoped it was his human. ‘Stay… with… me…’ He heard laughter over thick static and held onto it. ‘Heh, for how long, toaster. Come on, get your ass up, we have a criminal to catch!’ Nines imagined how it would be to simply do that. It would be wonderful. Gavin sounded scared. Why was he scared? Too many questions, too many thoughts. Only one that counted: ‘Ga…vin… stay… with… me… forever…’

[Warning: Core temperature critical.] [Commencing emergency shutdown.] [Unit deactivated.]

The machine above him was busy. Multiple arms fastened to an enormous joint in the ceiling moved back and forth, getting rid of old bent metal and torn plastic and gathering new parts for assembly. Under Gavin’s dull gaze lights flickered and wires were reconnected, Thirium-tubes were sealed and refilled. Gavin saw it all and noticed nothing. He was too deep in his thoughts, the only thing he really felt the android’s hand in his.

Tina had told him everything.

Every talk she had with the tin-can, every carefully selected detail Nines trusted her with over time, every little thing Nines liked about him and every minute gesture he had failed to realise as Nines being friendly to him. Tina had told him Nines liked him. Had a crush on him. Kinda. It was weird to think of the android in such ways. He had never shown any signs of affection towards him. Or maybe Gavin had just never bothered to look for them. If he was being honest, he couldn’t really believe it. The android was… Even if Nines had been a human, he would have been way out of his league. He was a functioning person; he didn’t look out for a new disaster to dive into and didn’t create them if he didn’t find one. He was kind, in his own way. He never spoke or emoted much. But…

God, Gavin had taken his extremely slow pace, his careful steps as a sign the android wasn’t interested in anyone at all. He had even told him he didn’t feel anything, that he was simulating everything and… “Stay with me forever.” Shit.

‘Hey… errr… tin-can…’ He took a few breaths, following the mechanic arms. There were fewer now. Nines back was nearly fully restored. ‘I don’t know if you can hear me. But I’m sorry. For all that I’ve said. I just… I never thought… I… I’m a huge idiot, okay?’ He couldn’t keep his composure and a part of him hoped Nines couldn’t hear him. ‘I am a dumb, dumb human, who only understands what someone wants if they push it into my face so hard it hurts, and you were so gentle with… with everything. Phck I didn’t notice any of it and you were trying so hard to be perfect when this asshole right here can’t handle perfect and I should phcking go, because you don’t deserve someone like me and-‘ ‘Gavin.’ There was an impossibly faint pressure on his hand from where the android was squeezing his. Gavin couldn’t do anything but stare at the smile on Nines’ face. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t talk, he could only stare. ‘Shut up and kiss me.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #why am I recently like Fluff: have a sentence Angst: Here have a novel #I guess I'm stressed so I can write this one better at the moment #there will be fluff days coming again I jsut don't know when #and it's kinda fluffy in the end?#Me torturing my favs AGAIN #Gavin: he will never shout he loves me buhu #Nines: No I will not #Nines: I will whisper it most tender when I've come back from the dead tho

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darkpoisonouslove · 5 years ago

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“Life at The Ancestral Manor”

Summary: Griffin wanted to share her future with Valtor but in agreeing to give him her life she also agreed to give it to the way things happen in his home of tradition that his mothers are making sure will be upheld. Can she hope that relationship will be allowed to grow and develop when she needs to put her everything into surviving each day they try to make her something that she’s not?

Mentions of death, murder, self-mutilation, arson, cults, coma, physical and emotional abuse, parental abuse, sex, sex toys, not consented to stop of birth control, alcohol abuse, cooking deer meat in detail (which was oddly disgusting to me so...) and strong language. Also, there are mentions of Bloom x Darkar and Bloom's portrayal isn't very flattering although it is just a reimagined version of the events in canon (plus, a few details that weren't there).

I had the mighty need to see Griffin and Valtor living with the Ancestral Witches for some reason the other day and I set out to write it. Well, this is what came of it. A lot of super fucked up stuff because it is the Ancestral Witches. Also, it is super long again because, of course, it is.

"That was delicious, Griffin," Valtor praised as he wiped his mouth with his napkin after he was done with his French toast.

Griffin smiled at him gently as she was careful not to let any venom seep out of her and poison him. "I'm glad you liked it." At least he appreciated all of her efforts. She was an early bird but that didn't make her love the fact that she had to rush to the kitchen and get started on breakfast instead of curling up into Valtor's side and greeting him with a kiss when he woke up. Of course, she didn't have to when there were people she could fall back on to do it for her but that meant never being allowed in the kitchen again and she'd fought too hard to earn her own agency of choice to let that happen.

"It certainly exceeds a number of other meals I've had," Belladonna said, her voice smooth like the surface of ice under your fingertips and just as cold, killing the compliment before it could even turn into such.

Griffin forced the smile to keep stretching her facial muscles when her mother-in-law's golden eyes found hers despite the discomfort that caused her. That was as much as she could hope to get from the woman who killed animals in cold blood for fun and had taught Valtor to do it, too. Or rather it was all she hoped there would be to her condescension.

"Rather simple, but we all have to resign to the limitations when you have to do it all yourself," Belladonna continued, making Griffin let the breath she was holding out of her nose as slowly and inconspicuously as she let her own pride slip out of her hands and shatter on the floor without even a sound to mourn its pitiful end. She couldn't make a scene at breakfast. It would just ruin her whole day when they made it their mission to make it hell. "I don't understand why you insist on doing it when the help is right here to do it for you but it is your choice and we all respect that," Belladonna kept stuffing ice cubes in her heart to make it freeze over like her own and have water flowing in her veins instead of blood. Even all the tea in the world couldn't warm her now and it was just Valtor's warm presence at her side that kept her from dying in the embrace of the hypothermia that was her mother-in-law's weapon of choice.

"I enjoy it, Mother Belladonna," Griffin said, her voice cutting lines in the thin ice separating her from the freezing water below that she was skating on. She could let her righteous anger sharpen her as much as she wanted as she tried to cling on to everything she loved and not let it sink in the cold indifference that was being forced on her but there was no escape from her frozen prison when Belladonna was taking away all of her sources of joy with ease as the fight was on her territory.

She couldn't help but catch Lysslis' smile of belittlement when it was designed to draw her attention to her and get in her head where it would start taking apart who she was to make space for who they wanted her to be. She'd need all that luck Zarathustra had wished her when she and Ediltrude had learned the three witches were to be her mothers-in-law. Having to force herself to cook every day because she would lose her kitchen privileges otherwise was draining every spark of happiness she was getting from the activity already but she wouldn't let them win. It had barely been half a year after she and Valtor had gotten married in the dead of winter and she still had more fight in her even if the heat of summer was not helping when she was home from school and trapped in their killer company.

"Simplicity is trending right now so if anything, Griffin is just staying up-to date, mother," Valtor took her side–quite literally as they were sitting opposite of his mothers at the long table in the dining room–and she would kiss him if she could. Currently though, she couldn't even catch his hand under the tablecloth since his mothers were watching them restlessly like the stars never stopped looking over all of the planets and they would see it instantly which would just pose a problem to the two of them as the three old hags didn't approve of witnessing displays of affection.

They didn't approve of affection in general and had only taken her as a daughter-in-law after DNA tests that had confirmed a child of hers and Valtor's would have an excellent genetic makeup making her nauseous in the process as they'd erased her humanity with one quick swipe over her being. The tests and the fact that she had golden eyes like all the other women of the Ancestral Manor. She'd literally been picked for her body and it had felt like she'd entered medieval times instead of her new life as Valtor's bride. But if anything, it had only stated loudly how much she loved him to go through all of that and be with him. Even his mothers had looked impressed by her determination and hadn't even allowed themselves to insinuate she was a gold-digger.

"Of course, she is," Tharma said, her voice crackling like static like it always did. She always felt like she was about to explode and Griffin was pretty sure that it was like that because that was exactly what was happening. The woman–Griffin would only truly believe any one of them was human when she saw their corpses since none of them seemed to have aged for the past twenty-five years which might have just traumatized Valtor more with the promise of their curse hanging over his head for an undetermined amount of time–didn't even have the proverbial short fuse and could self-detonate on the spot if it weren't for her sisters to keep her collected with their icy gazes and creeping terror. "That is what has kept this family afloat for centuries and every member needs to keep to it." Meaning that they would throw her out the moment she couldn't catch up with their impossible standards.

"Yes, mother," Valtor said, the response automatic at this point but that didn't seem to upset any of his mothers. It seemed to please them rather–nothing better than turning your child into a robot keeping to your every command–and win Valtor and her the opportunity to focus on each other for the time being. "What are you doing today?" Valtor asked, pulling her away from the dreadful reality of their presence and into what was left of her own life, of their life.

He always cared and stopped to ask how she was doing even when his mothers had already piled two hundred other more pressing things on his shoulders. Although, in their eyes everything was more pressing than love and it was a joke when that included "the family reputation" when they didn't even have a definition of family. And if they did, it was distorted by all the shards of cold that were the only remains of their souls.

"Ediltrude and Zarathustra are coming over so... trying to stay sober would be a good start," she said, doing her damnedest to keep her eyes on him and not on the warped reflections of them that his mothers' gazes were when they shared the same eye color but the emotions that came through in the gold were vastly different.

She hated herself for slipping into the anxiousness their presence loaded her with like she was nothing more than yet another weapon they could yield to hurt him like they'd done their whole life by turning what he loved against him and making him hate it. They would interfere anyway so she had to make the most of it and focus on him. Him and what the day had to offer once she managed to free herself from the net of their scrutiny.

"You know how hard it is to refuse Ediltrude to drink with her." Valtor and Ediltrude had hit it off that first Christmas and she'd never gotten to meet his mothers at the appointed Christmas dinner which had given her one last holiday free of their presence but there'd been retribution from them towards Valtor that had kept him from seeing her as well. "Even when it's eleven a.m." That wasn't going to be her saving grace either and she could only hope for a miracle to keep the alcohol away from her and Ediltrude away from it.

"I'm sorry, dear," or a curse, "but you're going to have to reschedule," Lysslis grabbed at the chance to ruin her plans so viciously that it was bleeding toxic glue on her to get her stuck in the place they wanted her, in their own garden of misery they'd personally grown just for her in some sort of sick gift that did everything for them and nothing for her. Nothing good that was. "Today will not be possible," Lysslis said and Griffin was surprised she'd given her the opportunity to speak a few sentences before she'd let her own tongue slither out. But of course, that way it was Griffin's words that ripped into her when she'd allowed herself to believe she could have something her way in the home from hell.

"I thought you didn't have any urgent work today, Mother Lysslis," Griffin let herself play dumb when she'd double checked with their personal assistant. Mandragora was an oversized pest that completely deserved her name when she started screeching the moment someone who wasn't her bosses poked her the wrong way–or any way, really–but she wouldn't allow herself to lie to her if it concerned her and her mothers-in-law's dealings did since they insisted on holding all their meetings at the mansion as if offices didn't exist. But apparently they weren't too old to retire but were too old to work outside the mansion.

"Exactly," Belladonna said and Griffin could only hate herself for how helpless she was against the way her blood froze at a single word from the woman. "There will be nothing to distract us from the presence of your mismatched friends," she said and Griffin couldn't even draw in all the breath she needed when the ice needles of Belladonna's gaze on her would poke holes in her lungs if she allowed them to expand past their normal movements. "I will never understand how someone with your poise and grace can stand to be around people who are so... unrefined."

The trap clicked closed, holding both her heart and her tongue and threatening to pluck them out if she dared let them run free but she couldn't just keep sitting obediently like a dog while Belladonna threw insults of her friends in her face like they were treats she'd deserved for good behavior. She had to stand up for herself and her friendship.

"That's okay," she let the honey drip from her lips sweet like a topping they'd all hopefully choke on to go with her steely gaze that would've cut through anyone else but only had the ice of Belladonna's biting back into it in a warning that was more a red flag rather than a courtesy even if her rage was already burning white hot and Griffin hadn't even started. "You're busy figuring out so many other things. We've got this one covered for you, Mother Belladonna," Griffin said, looking right into the molten abyss that her mother-in-law's eyes were as if it wasn't absolutely suicidal and wouldn't doom her to a terribly agonizing death. But she needed to let her know just what she meant with that.

Belladonna had just sisters and a son she'd done her best to break and mold according to her own vision while Griffin had the twins who were her sisters in everything but blood and her husband she loved enough to accept even as he came packaged with three sociopaths because that was what love was. But of course, there was no way for Belladonna to know that when all her friends were fake and the best she could hope for after her own husband's death–or murder–were the business partners who only stayed in contact with her out of obligation. She was sure no one would stick around which just posed the question how genuine any sisterhood between her mothers-in-law was. And they could all hear it echoing loudly around them even if Belladonna would love to crush it under a block of ice just like she'd handle her.

"Speaking of meetings," Lysslis saved her–not before Belladonna made it clear that had Griffin been anyone else other than Valtor's wife, she would've stuffed her in the fridge and served her in small pieces at her annual reception celebrating the foundation of the family business year after year so the guests would be infected with her agony for life even if they wouldn't know it–although they definitely weren't speaking of meetings but rather of a killing match at this point but Griffin wasn't quick to relax before she learned the price of the little miracle she'd let her have. "I will have you inviting your mother to come shopping with us next Saturday," she was quick to inform her what suffering she'd traded her current predicament for and her tone was so casual as she knew she'd set it up perfectly to make Griffin sacrifice what little time she actually got to spend with Valtor in the name of an activity she hated even when she was with her friends. Of course, she'd pick Saturday even when they could go shopping literally any other day of the week.

"Of course, Mother Lysslis," she agreed so readily that it made her sick of her own pretense. Or rather the lack of such when she knew she didn't have any other choice but to leave herself at Lysslis' hands now since Belladonna was still mad at her and Tharma was normally angry on a good day and neither of them would hold back Lysslis' wrath was Griffin to unleash it. All she had left was to hope she'd manage to stand her ground while going around stores that were far off from the plane of existence of a high school teacher since they'd let up a bit on trying to dictate her choice of clothes after the preventive measures she'd taken in regards to that. "If I may ask who "us" includes so that my invitation will be the most accurate version of itself?" Griffin prodded carefully even when she knew that kind of sneakiness would never work with Lysslis.

"The three of us, you and your mother, of course," Lysslis said, the metallic rays of her mind piercing through Griffin's heart easily when it was so softened by the hope she'd let fill it that she'd only have to stand straight under the burden of Lysslis' cunning and manipulations.

Great. It was bad enough when she was being buried under all the insecurities Lysslis managed to dig out without even damaging her manicured nails in any way to get her to bend to her will. Having all three of them against her when they made her head spin with how fast they had her in and out of different outfits was a battle she wasn't sure she'd be able to win even with her mother by her side.

History was more Valtor's area of expertise but she could find herself in need of turning to it and making it repeat. They'd left her alone the previous time when she'd set the wardrobe on fire–all the clothes they'd bought that afternoon had been lost by the time Mike had arrived with his firemen and she'd only mourned the money that had been wasted instead of going towards something productive–and they hadn't tried to order her around directly after that. They'd instead taken a stealthier approach, mostly leaving Lysslis to handle her by fishing out her fears with her teeth hidden behind the warpaint that her blood red lipstick was.

She used them to decorate her attitude of supremacy while she decorated Griffin however she wanted to when the shadows she'd grown in her mind were twisting and turning it as they tried to snap it in half and Griffin was too busy trying to free herself from them to have any energy left to spare on keeping Lysslis out of her head as well. There was no way she could handle all three of them when they sank their claws in her and tried to rip her apart to stuff the pieces of her in whatever clothes they deemed appropriate. So another arson might be due. Even if the only reason Tharma hadn't slapped her for endangering the mansion had been that Valtor had stepped in front of her and gotten slapped himself.

Despite their constant verbal abuse and mind games, they'd never allowed themselves physical violence before that. And after it, too, as Tharma had spent the next week suspended in her room and the glaring empty space on Belladonna's right had somehow only reinforced the idea that she was an all-powerful monster not to be messed with. The lack of reaction on Valtor's part towards the bruise forming on his cheek had been what had made her break down in their bedroom, though, and lament her choice until he'd picked her up and carried her to the bed where he'd told her to never stop defending her agency when it wasn't her that was hurting him. It had never been. And she'd worn his fierce love of her like her armor against Lysslis' attempts to convince her that it was all her fault.

It had worked that time. She could only hope it would work again even if that left her heart too malleable and easy to manipulate.

"It would be nice to spend some time with her," Lysslis said and Griffin would have been afraid of how easily the lie dripped from her lips if she weren't used to it. In fact, assuming that everything that came out of her mouth was a lie was the best way to deal with Lysslis and avoid falling for her traps. It might have been unfair if it weren't true ninety-nine percent of the time and the fact that even Tharma and Belladonna were mindful of her and double checked her story when she'd done something on her own just confirmed that. "We haven't seen good old Emalyn in so long," Lysslis shook her head as if in regret. And perhaps it was.

Perhaps it was regret that they had to socialize with a lowly middle class retired nursery teacher. Emalyn was everything that they weren't and knowing Griffin carried her genes was only looked over because the DNA tests overrode it in importance by proving that those were the perfect genes to combine with Valtor's and somehow that made Griffin's genetic makeup desirable all of a sudden.

And to call her mother old as if they weren't ancient even though they didn't look the part? That was an insult Griffin would never swallow if her mom hadn't warned her not to get into fights with her mothers-in-law on her behalf after they'd made a remark about taking all the expenses on the wedding since, apparently, Emalyn and that dead husband of hers were no good to even pay for their daughter's wedding–which had been far bigger and much more expensive than Griffin had ever wanted it to be but she'd had no say on the matter as they'd insisted that a new marriage in the family had to be a public affair–and Griffin had been ready to rip they heads off. Emalyn had stopped her, though, and reminded her that it would only hurt herself and Valtor and her mom could never want that for them which had proven that she was the only mother either of them had despite allegedly having four.

Griffin mirrored that smile Lysslis gave guests when she wanted them to know that all that they were was met with contempt. She'd learned how to reflect it even if some of the effect was lost when she could never hope to have been capable of pulling it off without seeing it first. "I'm sure she shares the sentiment." She most certainly did considering the depth of the resentment thriving in the shade of the words.

"Now that that's settled," Tharma stepped in and drew her attention away from where Lysslis looked proud that Griffin had picked something up from her instead of being offended, "we can talk about dinner."

"Is there anything special you would like for dinner, Mother Tharma?" Griffin asked, her stomach trying to do a somersault that would send all of the food she'd just ingested back up her throat to make space for whatever Tharma would want of her now but Griffin held it back. She couldn't let them now she got sick whenever they made their requests that ranged from mildly offensive through awful to horrendous. Especially when she was sure they suspected. She couldn't give them the confirmation herself.

"Valtor will have some good news for us tonight so I thought we should celebrate," Tharma said and Griffin did her best not to clutch at her fork since she was pretty sure she would snap it in half even if it was solid stainless steel. Which was exactly the same reason that she didn't try to catch Valtor's hand to help him drain off some of the pressure Tharma had just piled on his shoulders if there hadn't been enough of that already. "And a special occasion calls for a special meal, doesn't it?" Tharma asked as if they were kindergartners whose brains hadn't developed enough yet to make a simple connection if it weren't pointed out to them. And also to let the dread set deep inside Griffin's body when she'd most certainly have her cooking some animal they had caught.

"You know that Argulus is our best client so you need to be at the top of your game," Belladonna reminded Valtor as if he hadn't been working at the company ever since he'd turned eighteen. By now he would have most certainly learned that even if his mind weren't as sharp as the diamonds they were selling but she just had to nag as if Valtor hadn't renegotiated contract terms with Argulus before. They were practically friends and even if loyalties weren't really a thing in their business, she was sure that Argulus would at least try to resolve any potential issue before going elsewhere for his precious diamonds.

"Yes, mother," Valtor agreed, his tone snappy when his patience was starting to give way under their distrust in him even after they'd stolen his youth and replaced it with preparations to become the head of the business and he'd been doing the job for years. "I always am." Valtor seemed to have had the exact same thought and she wanted to smile at them sharing a mind but that would be misplaced and would most certainly get stained by his mothers' intolerance of their happiness if they saw it. And they would.

"Hardly true half of the time," Lysslis was quick to cut off his unexpected bout of confidence like it was a flower she'd decided to pluck off for decoration of her table. Except she didn't like flowers and it had been completely unnecessary, not to mention far heavier a crime when it was her own son she'd hurt. But of course, she only cared about that in a backwards fashion where she was prouder when the damage she'd done was bigger.

Griffin had to do something since she couldn't watch him like that. He already looked like a sunflower that had withered prematurely and she needed to stop them before they could do more damage. Even if it meant drawing their attention to herself.

"I can cook his favorite-"

"Roast leg of venison," Tharma interrupted her before she could even suggest that she did something her husband would enjoy even if the dinner was supposed to celebrate his success and the order was clear in the tone that allowed no objections. Not that she could have any–as much as she hated to admit it–since they certainly knew their game better than she did. She wouldn't be caught dead going near the stuff if they weren't making her. "Sliced venison tongue salad as an appetizer and venison liver crème caramel for dessert will complete the menu to perfection," Tharma said, looking at her like she expected her to throw up on the spot. Which, frankly, sounded like an appealing option.

"Yes, of course, Mother Tharma," Griffin agreed as she did her best to hold in her disgust–especially when it came to the dessert idea–but she might have started turning green since Tharma looked pleased. Though, that might have been how quickly she'd relented when she knew she didn't have an alternative. She rarely had any other option but to do as they wished. As if they were giving her the occasional treat for being such a well-trained lapdog and if the cooking adventures that awaited her hadn't made her sick already, then that thought was certainly helping.

"Valtor, don't forget there's also a delivery coming in today," Tharma turned to him, a look of warning striking him to remind him it was all very secretive and had to remain that way. Which was why the deliveries were made directly to Valtor's office and personally to him instead of to the house where either the personnel or a random guest could get their hands on the forbidden knowledge of what was in Tharma's box. Well, the deliveries were for all the three witches.

"Don't worry, mother, your products are in good hands," Valtor allowed himself the indiscretion which to Griffin was amusing but Tharma didn't seem to appreciate the threat of having the insides of her words exposed even if it was too late for that. Valtor had already told Griffin it was their ozone cosmetics that were proving to be the fountain of their youth. That and the countless souls they chewed on slowly year after year and consumed the energy of everyone around them to sustain themselves. The perfect crime indeed. "Have I ever forgotten before?" Valtor asked and she had to catch his hand to let him know she was proud of his continuing bravery after they chewed into him every time he displayed it. She couldn't care less that they'd notice. Let them see.

"Of course not, Valtor," Tharma seemed to agree which meant that there was more. "You'd never fail to listen when I remind you." There it was. And of course, she'd steal everything he deserved the credit for. They weren't just energy vampires. They sucked out entire lives and they'd been doing that to Valtor under the guise of raising him ever since he'd been born.

"Go now," Belladonna urged, her gaze cutting into the space between the two of them to indicate that she was in a rush to separate them. Heaven forbid they actually got to enjoy any of their time together when they weren't locked in their own bedroom.

"Yes, mother," Valtor didn't try to protest since it would only get them both snowed in under an avalanche of critiques and he wanted to save them from that. "Have a nice day," he barely spared at his mothers before turning to her. "Goodbye, Griffin," he said as he made sure to catch her gaze and let her know how much he loved her since saying it out loud would only draw the dirt of their disapproval to it. "Make the best of the day," he said since he knew very well that she much preferred to be at work instead of stuck at home with his mothers all day–he'd been through that hell and knew it even better than she did–and kissed her cheek, his lips letting so much tenderness soak into her skin even though the contact was brief.

"Have a nice day yourself," Griffin wished as she squeezed his hand. She knew how much he overworked himself when she was the one massaging all the stress out of his stiff muscles every evening while his mothers were resting all their burden on his shoulders.

"Well, now it will be," Valtor squeezed back to let her know he'd gotten the message. "Even if it doesn't want to," he said before letting go.

Griffin smiled at the optimism that needed just a ray of encouragement to come out from under the years of trauma and bad experiences his so called family had buried it under and completely on purpose at that. But they hadn't managed to smother it in all the cold they'd given him instead of oxygen. It was still there and she was ready to shine on it with all of her love to see it grow and reach for the cosmos since it was strong enough to do that. Especially with her faith in him to support it.

"You should start on dinner, Griffin," Belladonna said, her cold breath making the surface of Griffin's eyes freeze over to keep the sight of Valtor's retreating back out of them and it sent chills down her spine.

"Of course, Mother Belladonna," Griffin agreed and quickly slipped out of her chair and towards the kitchen. She didn't have to object when she was perfectly content with finally being out of their sight as their eyes were like molten lava just waiting to erupt and swallow her to bury her in a cage of obsidian. Even the nightmare waiting for her in the kitchen was a better option than that.

Once in the kitchen–that was suspiciously empty even though there was always personnel in there but, of course, they wouldn't let her have any help when they'd set out to torture her–Griffin made it her first order of business to pull a deer leg out of one of the freezers. They should have probably been kept in a different space altogether considering there were a lot of them–and all were full of hunting game–but her mothers-in-law liked to keep their trophies nearby. And in this particular instance it made her job easier since she only had to get the meat to the table where she could leave it to thaw while she looked for recipes.

She was no expert on cooking meat and the one time she'd cooked deer meat, all three old hags had complained it was overcooked and stiff. She could ask them on how she was supposed to cook what they wanted but after the humiliating experience of having them lecturing her about it the previous time even though they hadn't cooked a thing in their lives and the kitchen was her territory but they'd still trumped her when they knew how well cooked venison was supposed to look and taste, she would sooner die than let them coach her again. Which would still happen if she didn't pull the three-course dinner off so she needed to do her research. Fortunately, that was when the internet came to her rescue.

Of course, they'd give her tasks that would send all of her day to hell. The total time she'd need for all the dishes if she decided to cook them separately was about nine hours which would still leave it ready in time for dinner but would make her unwilling to set foot in the kitchen ever again which would mean that they'd won. So multitasking it was.

That would have been much easier if she was actually acquainted with cooking any of those dishes and also didn't prefer to cut out their tongues and cook them instead of the deer tongues she was left with even though they still made for a better company than her mothers-in-law. Not to mention that the leg she'd gotten was too big for the recipe she'd found and she needed to switch it with a smaller one. At least the kitchen was well stocked so she had the ramekins she needed for the crème caramel. Products and utensils were not the problem, really. No, what was the problem was that it was all set up against her.

The crème caramel was the cherry on top truly since they knew desserts were her pride and specialty and were doing their best to turn that against her. Succeeding, too, unlike her who wasn't even given the chance to come out of that fight victorious since, apparently, the liver for the crème should have been soaked in milk from the previous evening. They were setting her up for failure and she was starting to lose it long before she'd made it to any of the actual cooking.

She considered calling her mom but that would definitely fall under procrastinating. Especially when she went on a long rant about how unfair all of it was even though she'd known it would be like that when she'd said "I do" to Valtor. Besides, there was enough time to call her after she was done with that cooking disaster to proceed to the shopping disaster that was showing on the horizon like an antipode to the sunrise she loved dearly.

She had to call the twins to tell them not to come and, hopefully, convince them to stay on the phone with her and keep her company while she cooked even if distractions could prove to be counterproductive. It was the only way for her to handle what was supposed to be one of her favorite activities and she could only count on their love for her to override the fact that she was going to wake them up at least an hour earlier before they would get up now that it was summer vacation. But she needed them to keep her sane like they'd done when her father had died.

Griffin shook her head to make the horrifying memories drop out of it and shatter against the floor as she called Zarathustra. It was the lesser evil since she was probably awake but still doing her best to catch a wink of sleep anyway and could spare Ediltrude the early awakening and Griffin her sister's wrath for the aforementioned crime.

She held her breath as the phone rang and it was yet another reminder that her dear mothers-in-law were killing her but she pushed the thought down to suffocate instead of her. The universe seemed merciful at least in that regard as Zarathustra picked up and even though the call ended up waking Ediltrude, they both agreed to stay on the phone with her and talk since their meeting was so rudely canceled.

"They really denied us access to the sacred ground?" Zarathustra asked, her disbelief far too real considering she knew how the three witches operated but that just made Griffin love her more and be that much more grateful that her friends were so genuine and never made her wonder whether they truly liked her or were just faking it. She could count on them to take up any problem with her they had to her and it was the most comforting thought at the moment. "That is so disgustingly privileged." Zarathustra scoffed and Griffin could practically hear the disdain forming curses in her head over the speaker phone.

"Believe me, I know," Griffin huffed. "This is my home, too, and I should be able to invite my closest people here," she said, still somewhat surprised that she could think of the mansion as home when she hated so much about it. But it was Valtor's home, the only home he'd ever known, and he'd told her that her presence made it livelier when there were more plants around and the aroma of oregano tea and cookies was luring towards the kitchen. She wanted to be where he was and be his home, and have him be hers, too. "But no, our friendship will sully their décor, I suppose," Griffin said, nearly grateful for the rage over their treatment of her relationships as it would help her get through the meat. Quite literally since she needed to make holes in the leg for the garlic cloves.

"Griff, they're just trying not to go broke since they'll need to restock their liquor cabinet after me and trust me, that shit is expensive as hell," Ediltrude joked, trying to brighten her mood since she could most certainly feel the energy vibrating and brewing inside her even through the phone.

It was enough to scald a normal person but there was no one who fit the description around since her friends were on the other end of the line–and also disaster personified so they were safe on all accounts–the personnel was gone and her mothers-in-law were ancient demons Valtor's father had somehow managed to summon from hell. Most certainly by mistake or ignorance. Nobody would want to be married to a monster like any one of them as Lysslis' husband had proven as he'd filed for divorce just a week after the wedding.

"They're the ones who are way too much expenses on my life," Griffin said as she impaled the meat with the knife. No point in stalling. She had to get to it if she didn't want to be kitchen bound all day like some modern version of Cinderella. Only it was the evil mother-in-law and her sisters against her. Not that that made the fight any easier for her. Quite the opposite, in fact, and all she had left to do was stab the meat with her outrage like she'd completely lost her mind to it. She probably looked like a psychopath so, again, good thing that no one was around. She was pretty sure her mothers-in-law would leap at the chance to have her drugged on her prescribed meds if she gave them a reason to think she needed a psychiatrist.

"Are you sure you should talk like that while in their kitchen?" Zarathustra asked and made her want to scream since she knew how fierce both of the twins were. If they were scared of the witches, then she had to be, too. And she was, but she really didn't appreciate being reminded of that when she had to share living quarters with them. It left her feeling like fish out of water in her own home. Especially when she knew they were well aware of her hatred of them and returned it but still tolerated her when she was the wife they'd needed to buy their son anyway.

"It's my kitchen, Zara," she did her best to cushion her voice as she snapped. It wasn't her friend's fault. No one was at fault except for Belladonna and her sisters. "After Valtor and I got married, we got ownership of the mansion, remember?" Griffin said, trying to convince herself more than anything else.

The mansion could be hers on paper but it still bowed to them completely and so did she when she was more a part of the interior rather than a human being with her own mind and right to making choices. She wouldn't truly be the Mistress of the Ancestral Manor until they were gone even if Belladonna had officially passed the title down to her and despite herself, she wanted to be. She wanted to be if that meant that they would be free of them. Maybe then she could even have a child when she was free of the terror of what they would do with it. Perhaps even a girl and not the obligatory boy to continue the family lineage and find himself a housewife to take care of the precious mansion passed down from generation to generation and binding every next one in its old-fashioned and offensive traditions. Once they were gone, she could set her own rules. If she'd manage to outlive them and the stress they were burying her under as it was far more than six feet on top of her at this point and it'd barely been half a year since the wedding.

"I hate to break it to you, sister, but you're still under their reign," Ediltrude said as she'd sensed her thoughts and was trying to keep her grounded which was not just useful but necessary considering the fight that awaited her but right now it felt good to be in a fantasy. In a world she'd made up where she could have a daughter with beautiful golden eyes that were just that. Beautiful eyes and not a sign that she bore the makings of a Mistress of the Ancestral Manor, a wife. She would be the heiress and own the place. She would be the one who could bring the change the mansion needed and drag it out of the past to forge her own future, one that wouldn't be owned by a breathless, soulless house and the old witches it had made.

"Yes, that was a clause in the contract," Griffin said to grasp at tangible things and the legalities of their deal were the most palpable thing she could think of when they left her with the presence of her mothers-in-law which would last for heaven knew how long. Though, hell would probably be more in place in that sentence. "We have to take care of them until death finally manages to pry life out of their claws." There were chills running through her that weren't coming from the cold meat in her hands when she wasn't sure if even death was stronger than her enemies. And that was a very disturbing thought considering it had taken her father away when he'd always been the most secure heart in her life. "So for the next 30-40 years." Or so she hoped. She could just pray it wouldn't be more even if she weren't religious. She'd never been, and her encounter with her now mothers-in-law had only solidified that position.

"Aren't they, like, ancient?" Ediltrude asked, the pages of her magazine rustling when she probably used it to demonstrate her confusion in a grand, dramatic gesture. And here Griffin had sworn to be careful not to end up with another drama queen as a friend after Ediltrude and Hagen–and herself, too, but that did not go into the current train of thought–only to find herself married to one.

"Yeah. They can't be under seventy at this point even if their magical cosmetics take off twenty years," Zarathustra joined her sister and Griffin was grateful that they were doing their best to provide some comfort but she knew it wasn't up to them when the three witches were in the picture and the cosmetics weren't the only magic at play there. Good diet–despite their passion for hunting, they were careful with the cholesterol that could prove to be the one gun to end them if they didn't control it which, of course, they did very closely–and eating souls were giving splendid results so far. Well, splendid for them.

"Oh, they are," Griffin said, her knife almost flying out of her hand at her own theatrics. "They are seventy-three. At least Belladonna is and I'm still not quite sure whether they're triplets or not." They never disclosed anything personal but that had come out during the transfer of the mansion to the only result of terrifying her all the more when she'd learned she'd been far off in her guess of the woman's age. "But I'm not really sure they're mortal," Griffin confessed and it was so much scarier to hear the thought out loud even if it had been plaguing her mind since she'd learned their age.

Really, they didn't look older than fifty despite their white hair that Griffin could think of at least two purposes for. One, make them look like apparitions to increase the natural terror they awoke in whoever was standing in front of them and two, clash with their painted faces and nails and their designer clothes to tell you they were of age but still had far more class and beauty than you could ever dream of. And it worked on both accounts leaving you with the need to scream but you had to mute yourself somehow because that would just give them more life power and would hand victory to them.

Ediltrude laughed. "Come on, Griffin. The women may be vicious witches – I mean, reindeer meat? Who even eats that nowadays? And knowing that they caught it themselves... Oh, wow, okay." Griffin heard her moving in the armchair she was sitting in, the leather one that definitely did not fit with the rest of the interior of their living room but they both loved and she knew why when she'd found herself dozing off in it more than once since it was that comfortable. "I am starting to see your point," Ediltrude said in that voice that was slightly slowed down from her normal speed of speaking when her mind was racing. "How the fuck are they still hunting at that age?" she asked when she finally did the math that threw you for a loop when it ended in an infinity symbol that stood for their eternal life.

"I'm telling you," Griffin sighed. "They're not human," she said, any thought of stabbing them with the knife she was holding dying out when she wasn't sure she wanted to murder her own hope that they would be the ones to die some day. She wouldn't be able to handle the result of her experiment and the consequences of it. Even if they didn't do anything to her for the attempt on their lives. They would've already done it with the knowledge that it hadn't been an attempt at all when they weren't mortal.

"Well, Lysslis did have a violent reaction to Ediltrude's cat," Zarathustra said as she tried to prove to her that there was fear in her mothers-in-law, too. And it would have worked if the reason for that hadn't been that the cat had snatched a photo album out of Lysslis' bedroom. The way she'd looked around had suggested she was hiding it from her sisters and Griffin supposed that was because it was full of old pictures.

Lysslis wasn't the sentimental type even if she managed to look the part but she certainly was one to keep dirt on her sisters which made Griffin suspect that the album was old and contained evidence from their youth. Evidence that could support the rumors that the three of them had made their way into the manor with deception by having gold injected in their irises which had left them blind and in need of lenses that replaced their lost sight by sending electrical impulses to the brain with the coded visual information.

She wouldn't have trouble believing it at all. She'd seen their ambition taking lives–literally–and was sure that it went as far as mutilating themselves as well. Everything for the metaphorical crown.

That, of course, did not help convince her that they were people and only did the opposite instead even if it brought them down a little on account of them not having all the characteristics of a Mistress of the Ancestral Manor but that hardly mattered when they'd proved that they were the most fearsome women to ever have that title. And Lysslis was cold-blooded enough to keep proof of their monstrosities against her sisters, though that did hint that she was afraid of them. But on the other hand, who wouldn't be? Even monsters could fear other monsters. Especially when they were the same as them.

"Though, they were looking at the snakes like they were moving belts," Zarathustra said like they'd shared the same inner musings when Griffin knew that hadn't been the case. The twins had insisted that it wasn't possible when she'd told them what claims were going around when it came to her mothers-in-law.

"Hush, my babies are still traumatized," Ediltrude scolded which wasn't unexpected since she'd forbidden the topic after she'd had both snakes wrapped around her like they were trying to suffocate her which hadn't really been their intention and had hidden their heads under her hands. They'd gotten scared when they'd felt the thoughts the three old hags would've loved to make true and that only Griffin and the twins had been standing in the way of. As if Ediltrude would ever let anyone hurt her snakes. She would sooner kill than let anyone lay a hand on them or on her sister and that was one thing Griffin could always guarantee no matter who Ediltrude was facing.

"She's cuddling the snakes, isn't she?" Griffin asked as she already had a mental image that she was sure was absolutely precise. It was the other typical characteristic of that leather armchair as it was the usual place where the snakes liked to lounge. Especially if Ediltrude was there–or Zarathustra or Griffin, really–and they could climb all over her.

"Yep. I have a completely insane sister," Zarathustra said and Griffin could see her shaking her head at the sight of Ediltrude cooing at the snakes and stroking them. It was an odd image but one that Griffin was used to by now and had found herself replicating even if she hadn't liked Ediltrude's very idea of pets when she'd had to room with them from the get-go in their college dorm. They'd grown on her, though, and she'd found herself happy to feel them slithering over her the first time the twins had visited the mansion and Ediltrude had thought it appropriate to bring them with her to cheer Griffin up. It had even worked as the snakes had seemed like absolute angels compared to the three she now lived with when she knew the ones curling into her wouldn't hurt her.

"Oh, shut up, Miss I'll-just-go-and-join-a-cult," Ediltrude threw at her sister and almost made Griffin rub at her temples before she remembered she'd just been touching the deer meat and that was definitely ill-advised. She couldn't help the impulse when a fight between the twins was brewing, though, and them focusing on each other was definitely the first and only sign of that as their squabbles only needed so much to kick into motion.

"We agreed to never bring that up again," Zarathustra screeched angrily and Griffin could imagine the way her whole body was moving forward, ready for a fight. Something both twins were always prepared for which made for an explosive atmosphere. Something she'd gotten her fair share of when they'd been roommates. "It was a mistake, okay? You of all people should know enough about that," Zarathustra kept it up and Ediltrude would bite the bait and start harping on, too, in a second and she would lose them to their argument. She had to do something.

"Come on, you two, break it off!" Griffin cried out and it was more desperate rather than authoritative but that was all she could manage at the present time. "I need you to keep me company through this hell of a day, not send each other to hell," she said when she knew that would get them back to her. They were good friends even if they crossed the line sometimes with their teases that went from mischievous straight to cruel faster than a rally car accelerated.

She was picking up Valtor's car figures of speech which was just another thing they would prod into if they knew so she had to be careful not to give herself away.

"Sorry, Griffin," both twins chimed in at the same time which she was sure left them glaring at each other but they kept to the truce she'd called and she was grateful to have their support when there was not much of anything else keeping her focused and stopping her from melting into a puddle of self-pity under the judgment of her mothers-in-law's golden eyes that she could see in her mind perfectly now that they'd taken the time to so helpfully engrave it there.

Dinner took about all day despite her decision to work on the dishes parallel to each other and she ate lunch in the kitchen like she was their servant but that was not correct. She was more of a slave, really, and she was getting tempted to start looking into ways to get away with poisoning them, the only thing that was stopping her being that that wasn't her. Her parents hadn't raised a murderess and she wouldn't let her alleged new mothers make her something that she wasn't, make her like them.

There were rumors that Belladonna had killed her husband for cheating on her which Griffin knew weren't true as much as she hated admitting it. Belladonna certainly wouldn't have tolerated cheating despite how cold and uninviting she was–which was fair enough since that didn't give anyone a pass for cheating–but that was a problem she would have resolved before it had even become such and far more delicately, for certain. A little bromine in his drinks every day and there was nothing to worry about which might have been just the perfect solution from another point of view as well but that was none of Griffin's business and she really didn't need, nor want to go there.

No, what had most certainly seen the three sisters–she was sure Lysslis and Tharma were in on it and might have even helped–committing murder had been the fact that they'd wanted to raise Valtor a certain way and getting rid of his father had been necessary to make sure he wouldn't interfere with that. Which had probably also been the reason behind Valtor's grandmother "falling" off the balcony in the light of day. If they hadn't posed a threat on Belladonna's plans for Valtor's upbringing they probably would've still been alive–her husband at least–and following her agenda just like everyone else was.

Remembering she was one hundred percent certified living with murderesses was not helping her relax when the exhaustion was flaming in her muscles so she dragged herself over to the library to pick a good book to crash on the couch in there with. It was the one place that she adored in the mansion–other than her and Valtor's bedroom–even if Lysslis was often there herself.

There were so many books gracing the shelves with their elegance and knowledge or countless worlds waiting to be explored and it was the richest room in the mansion. It was a dream come true to have a library that size and Griffin took all the chances she got to enjoy it.

She found a book of poetry that seemed to predate even her mothers-in-law–and that was magical in a whole another way as it was proof that they hadn't been there from the start so maybe they wouldn't make it to the end either–and curled up in its embrace. The words were caressing her tenderly–especially when she imagined them in the context of her and Valtor's love–and managed to unwrap some of the day's tension from around her to let her get more comfortable. Almost to the point where she'd fall asleep but that thought was ran over by the sound of Valtor's car pulling over at the driveway.

She laid the book down on the table carefully, letting herself lose the page as all that mattered was finding her way out of the room as soon as possible, and ran down the stairs to greet him. They usually didn't let her do that when they held her hostage in the living room and watched her like she was the wild game they were hunting that day. They didn't want her going out in the rain–concerned about how any potential illnesses would reflect on her ability to bear children, no doubt–but it rained so often over the mansion that she was starting to hate it when she couldn't do any gardening even if it'd used to be a relaxing sound to read a good book to while sipping tea which, really, made perfect sense as a lot of things weren't at all as enjoyable as they'd used to be.

She got the upper hand that evening as she rushed to the door before they could block her way as they came from the study. It was supposed to be Valtor's nowadays but they had no qualms about coming and going as they pleased and rummaging through the documents. They'd even spoiled the surprise when he'd reserved a quiet villa at the seaside for them since they hadn't been able to spoil the vacation itself. At least not to the point to which they'd wanted to.

Sarah stepped out of her way and rather enthusiastically, too, instead of with fear like she avoided the old witches that still acted like they were her bosses when she was officially working for her and Valtor now. It could also have something to do with the fact that she was getting starry eyed at the sight of her and Valtor together as she seemed genuinely happy about them–though, that could be because they treated her as a human and not just as the help–and even congratulated them on their happiness every time she found the occasion.

Griffin opened the door and was met with a bouquet of white gently greeting her eyes as if Valtor had known she would be the one to meet him this time. It must have been some powerful intuitive cue since that was a rarity and he couldn't have predicted it any other way.

"For the woman of my heart," Valtor said as he grinned at her and handed her the gardenias.

She could feel their sweet scent reaching her even when her fingers hadn't even caressed the blossoms yet. It wafted through the air to encapsulate her in itself and entered her brain to pull forward memories of all the previous times he'd brought her flowers–not just gardenias–that were just as exquisite as the bouquet itself.

Griffin took the flowers from him and stepped away to let him in. "Kept safe and sound," she noted as she felt the plastic container that was undoubtedly full of water under her fingers. It was like a small plastic vase hidden under the bouquet wrap to keep the flowers fresh.

"Vanessa knows what she's doing," Valtor said as he took off his coat and let Sarah put it away.

"She certainly does." Unlike that daughter of hers. "And you do, too," Griffin praised as deserved. He'd learned her tastes–though, Vanessa probably knew just as well and would have had him covered anyway–and knew just how to make her day which she really appreciated after the day she'd had. "Come here, man of my heart," she said as she pulled him towards herself, careful not to damage the flowers after he'd found the time in his busy schedule to get them for her.

Her lips were on his and his body pressed into her finally felt like she'd come home after she'd been kept on edge all day like only his mothers could do to her when they shook her sense of self to the very core and made her doubt everything she was and knew. Everything except Valtor and her love for him. That always came out victorious regardless of what schemes they were running–and they'd done their best to separate them by pushing various ghosts of the past in their way until they'd realized that their futures were entangled together and there was no one who could do anything about it–and she trusted she could draw strength from it any time.

Valtor did, too, as he let himself sink into the kiss and pull her deeper in as well when their tongues were dancing together like they sometimes did in the privacy of their bedroom where it was just the two of them in the universe and the rhythm of the music that wrapped around them to keep the happiness of those moments safe and protected. His hands were on her waist and holding her close to him like he always did. It was the most reassuring thing to know he wanted her with him always. Especially when she wanted the same.

She wanted to be with him, for as long as the stars would shine on them when they climbed on the roof at night to watch them. She knew their love would be endless like the string of words of the countless books in the mansion's library was. The two of them had a long road ahead that nothing could block even when they were bound to returning to the manor no matter how far they'd managed to get during their latest car ride but it still felt like home when she was with him.

"Somehow that didn't sound too sincere," Valtor murmured when they parted even if the words weren't supported by the ecstatic beating of his heart under her palm. "I might need more convincing," he cupped her cheek, the softness of the touch begging to have more added to it and she couldn't refuse even if she'd wanted to. And she could never get mad at him just because he was looking for excuses to draw her into another kiss even if he didn't need them when she would give him all the love and all the tenderness he wanted. It was something she wanted to do with her life and nothing could make her doubt that no matter how many slippery slopes she had to climb to get to him.

Griffin leaned in again but she'd barely felt his lips against hers when Belladonna's voice made for a crack between them and shoved an entire replica of Antarctica in it forcing her to pull as far away from the cold as possible which left space between her and Valtor as well.

"If you're going to have sex tonight, at least do keep it down," she said, her voice even like it was gliding on a solid foundation of ice and not their private and intimate experiences but that couldn't phase Griffin anymore. "You make more noise than a gathering at the patio," Belladonna added her finishing touch of humiliation, the burning gold of her eyes scorching at Griffin's skin when she looked at her to let her know that one was directed exclusively towards her.

"I guess it's time to use that ball gag you bought for me," Griffin said as she turned her head towards Valtor but let her gaze seep towards her mother-in-law out of the corner of her eye. Hopefully, she'd drown in the lack of shame in it.

It had felt like she'd been engulfed in flames the first time she'd gotten reprimanded about her loudness by her witches-in-law which had coincidentally been about the wedding night since she and Valtor hadn't even gotten a proper honeymoon on pretext that it wasn't the season for holidays–as if there weren't a ton of places where it'd been sizzling hot at the time–and the manor needed to get acquainted with its new Mistress which wouldn't have been a problem if they'd let her move in before the wedding but they'd insisted that that wasn't possible since she wasn't an official part of the family yet. She'd felt like a criminal caught red-handed and it had left such a profound acrid taste in her mouth that she hadn't been able to eat until they'd forced her to because she needed to stay healthy.

She'd been throwing up most of the first week of her married life and had thrashed in bed in the midst of her nightmares–not just because of the severe meddling in their private affairs, but also because of the control they were trying to exercise over every aspect of her life while giving the illusion they were passing everything in her hands only to overwhelm her more with the care for the household and make her beg for their help–instead of sleeping serenely in Valtor's embrace. They'd both ended up sleep deprived and exhausted in the middle of the work week and she'd sworn she'd never let them get to her head like that again. She'd play their game if that was what they wanted and she was going to win it.

"It would seem so," Valtor said, his arm snaking around her waist to keep her close when that gave him not just courage, but safety. Quite literally since he'd admitted to her that they hadn't allowed themselves to be as cruel to him after they'd learned she was a part of the picture as they'd been before that. Probably because they didn't want her to know about the monstrosities they'd committed against him before that and she hated to think of his suffering so she didn't when she knew he didn't want to talk about it either. She would gladly listen if he wanted to talk, though. So far he hadn't but she was there for him if and when he decided to share. "If we can't soundproof the bedroom," Valtor noted and it was a clear accusation or at least retaliation despite how casually it was thrown out there. They'd raised him in their image, after all, and deserved their own venom spat in their faces so that it would leave his system and free him of itself when it could never be useful for anything except paralyzing him in its drops like an insect caught in amber.

"The mansion needs to remain authentic, Valtor," Lysslis said, her words far closer to a hiss than she normally allowed them to get. But it was no wonder considering how touchy a subject change was when applied to the manor.

Lysslis–and her sisters, too–were hellbent on keeping the house as it was which she was sure had nothing to do with the fact that all of the previous owners had only done the necessary construction work to preserve the visage of the building and had avoided altering it in any way. They were just using the pretext of that to keep the manor the soulless home that it was and keep all of its inhabitants trapped in that paradox. It was just their hunger for control and power masked as care which was their trademark but that didn't make it any less grotesque.

"And it would be much easier to put up with the noise if it were an occasional occurrence but you two insist on fucking like rabbits," Tharma said, not missing a chance to stab at their active sex life to kill it.

She seemed to have difficulty getting over that time she'd walked in on them having sex in Valtor's office but it was her own damn fault for not knocking and barging in like she owned the place when she never had, all the decisions she'd ever made for the company falling over it through the channel of Belladonna's temporary reign while Valtor still hadn't been of age. She'd been absolutely scandalized and Griffin suspected that it had something to do with the fact that Valtor would forfeit work to have carnal fun which just added to Tharma's incomprehension, she was sure, since the woman was the only one of the three sisters who had never been married, and she'd been furious that they'd put her in a position in which she didn't have the upper hand when she was so hopelessly lost.

"We've raised you to be a lion, Valtor," Belladonna said and Griffin was surprised by the precision of the comparison when Valtor was the alleged king of the world but it was the lionesses that had made him who knew how to hunt and set the rules of the game. He was nothing but an oversized kitten on a leash in his mother's lap. "The least you can do is make sure the company and the family name get their next heir if you insist on imitating street cats," Belladonna didn't let the opportunity to express her own disdain with their priorities slip through her fingers that could be nothing short of ice cold when that was what her heart was.

"Thank you, Sarah," Griffin took the time to show her gratefulness for having her flowers removed from the scene–especially when she saw how quick Sarah was to make her escape and it was completely understandable that she didn't want to get caught in the upcoming storm–because she was sure they wouldn't handle the intensity of the argument that was about to plow into them. And even if they could, she didn't want to stain them with the ugliness of her reality when they were meant to brighten the bedroom with their beauty and weave a fantasy of another life around her with their sweet scent. "Contraceptives do tend to prevent pregnancy," she said as she turned her gaze on Belladonna now that the bouquet wasn't threatened with withering away under her fierce attacks towards every part of Griffin's life when she tried to bend it to her will.

"Perhaps you should rethink taking them," Belladonna said and the wording was all wrong when it wasn't a suggestion. It was an order at best and a threat at worst and Griffin had learned enough by now to know that it didn't matter which option it was as she had to be scared of both and of the way one would inevitably turn into the other if she let it.

"Perhaps you should rethink whatever horrid idea just started forming in your head." She could practically hear the thoughts in Belladonna's mind moving slowly but surely like an iceberg waiting to sink her tiny boat when it broke it in pieces upon collision. "If you switch out my pills and get me pregnant without my consent, I swear to you you won't see even the outside of this house ever again and I won't give a single fuck about the goddamn contract," Griffin spat out, clutching tightly at Valtor as all she had left to do was pray that she'd made herself clear enough, pray that she'd scared the monsters because she didn't know of another weak place of theirs that she could hit and it would be the end of her if she'd failed.

"Well, if that child has your character, it will at least be worth the wait," Belladonna said, letting her know she'd won the fight and she could breathe freely. For now. Hopefully, even until she herself decided to go through giving birth. "Not so much if it's like Valtor who never dared stand up to us."

She looked at him as if her words weren't piercing deep enough and she needed to hammer them in his heart through his eyes so that she could break them, too, and make him unable to see anything beautiful in the world ever again. She was just being a fucking bitch now since she knew damn well they'd abused him into obedience every time he'd tried to exhibit something else and Griffin would gladly remind her that but Valtor's grip tightening on her waist stopped her.

"Argulus and I did strike the deal, mother," Valtor said, his voice firm as if his eyes weren't trying to bleed tears when Belladonna's words had cut deep into his soul. He still cared about her approval which was masochistic and practically suicidal when he would never get anything but freezing water on his enthusiasm about any activity of his that just made it sizzle out and the steam carried away a part of his soul with it. It was painful to watch the best proof that Belladonna did not love him, did not know what love was at all, since she could see what she was doing to him and there was no reaction from her.

Not a normal one at least since she observed him like he was an experiment and she was waiting to see how long he'd need to crack under the crushing lack of praise from her.

Now that she was married to him, Griffin was a guinea pig, too, serving as a test subject to see how much you could break someone by torturing the love of their life, the only thing holding her in place was Valtor's arm around her when she knew she was his support just like he was hers. She could help with his burden and he could help with hers when they chose to carry them together and didn't do it because they were forced to.

"Excellent," Tharma said, the word like a whiplash echoing around them when it was so out of place. "Then all of your wife's work won't have to go to the garbage," she said, making Griffin nauseous even though she was used to the irresponsible waste of resources that the manor was a home to.

She had absolutely no doubt that they would've thrown out the dinner they had her cooking all day in the case of failure to punish both Valtor and her and then would've nagged at them about the meat they'd had to sacrifice when hunt was becoming harder throughout the years. Yet, they always came back proud of the murders that never dwindled in number just like they only used their old age when it was in their interest.

"He and his wife will be coming to dinner tomorrow evening," Valtor ignored the remark when it couldn't possibly ruin his mood more than it had already been but his words made Griffin's head snap towards him.

"Valtor, Faragonda and Hagen are coming tomorrow," she reminded gently as she didn't mean to scold him even if she felt near tears herself. There was no way she'd be allowed to have her "unrefined" friends over when there was a semi-business dinner going on and so instead of having people she loved over she would have to stand the company of another rich-and-proud-of-it couple in her home which she was used to by now as there was someone over for dinner at least twice a week but in this particular instance she was even less thrilled about the company.

"I'm sorry, Griffin," Valtor said as he looked at her, the ice of his eyes begging for her forgiveness which she would've granted far easier if she weren't struck in place by the lightning bolt that the realization that her gardenias were an apology and not a romantic gesture was. "You know Argulus insists on sealing the deal with a dinner and they'll be out of town for the next two weeks."

Of course, they would be. Bloom was probably flying to cloud nine at the idea of another expensive vacation. Or rather was carried there by Argulus who was a slave to her every whim which was the least he could do after taking her away from her family and changing her until she wasn't herself anymore. Though, it was arguable how much you could be changed without your own agreement and that had left Vanessa and Mike blaming themselves for not giving her a better life, for not giving her the life that Marion and Oritel would have sponsored had they been alive to raise their own daughter.

Griffin was sure they were turning in their graves thanks to the spoiled brat Bloom had become after she'd met Argulus who'd revealed her origins to her and had made her pursue the family fortune until she'd finally taken her claim over it just a month after the two had gotten married which was a bit of a coincidence too suspicious to be one to everyone with half a brain but, unfortunately, one half of Bloom's had been full of her newly found funds and the other one of her husband so that hadn't registered. And while that was a good enough excuse in that particular instance, it did nothing to justify the fact she'd stopped visiting Daphne at the hospital and had left Mike and Vanessa help her fight through the coma she'd been sent in by a reckless motorcyclist that had hit her on her way out of Argulus' office after a fight with him about her sister.

Griffin couldn't believe that was the same girl she'd held in her arms when she'd still been a teenager herself but Marion had trusted her enough to let her hold her baby. The future had seemed so bright before the coordinated attack meant to take out the entire family that had left the two girls orphans instead but at least they'd found their way to a loving home only for Bloom to turn away from that because of that vulture that her husband was.

The only thing that had Griffin keeping her mouth shut was that she'd only met Valtor through his connection to Argulus and her connection to Bloom. That and the fact that she didn't want to upset Mike and Vanessa who would inevitably hear Bloom's complaints were Griffin to say anything which left her begrudgingly accepting that she had to go through that dinner the next evening. Really, the only worst thing would have been having to stand Diaspro and all of her greatness now that she was doing whatever she wanted with all of Erendor and Samara's fortune after Bloom left Sky and he was led right back into the trap of Diaspro's arms around his neck.

"This can't wait," Valtor said, his voice quiet but it was the apologetic tone that pricked her all over like it was trying to see where she'd bleed from first. He was terrified of her reaction when the memories of his mothers' outbursts were playing in his mind and she hated the fact that she'd given him a reason to make the connection when she herself had quite the temper and enough pettiness to go for revenge instead of resolving the conflict.

"You'll just have to cancel your appointment, honey," Lysslis said, staining yet another pet name with her venom. She knew damn well Griffin would never be able to stand Valtor calling her any of the ones she'd used. And she'd used them all. She'd made sure there wasn't something special that only he would call her and he'd have to resort to her name which everyone else used as well. Lysslis thought she could diminish their bond like that but her name would always sound differently coming from Valtor's mouth when all of his love for her was woven in it. None of his mothers could ever sully that.

"We'll have to plan the menu so the help can get to it right away tomorrow morning," Tharma said to remind her that her cooking was good enough for her common-folk friends and even the three Mistresses of the Ancestral Manor were resigning to it to fulfill her wishes but her meals weren't refined enough for their high society guests. And after she'd spent all day cooking their requested dinner. It was crossing the line which would mean something if there were any lines for the three of them.

"Let me play you something, Griffin," Valtor caught her hand and held all of her anger as if it was his doing and his responsibility. His eyes were begging her forgiveness and she couldn't take that away from him when they'd already taken everything from both of them. It wasn't his fault her plans were abolished yet again. She'd known that business always came first even when he didn't want it to and he just wanted to make things right for her which she appreciated but didn't want to burden the notes with his guilt which would undoubtedly warp the melody.

"I would love to hear anything you have for me," Griffin made sure to emphasize the last word and was happy to see it reached his heart and he read into it, his shoulders falling out of the stiff embrace of the stress that had been wrapped around them to leave him able to play the piano with all of his skill and that was an ocean she could float in forever.

They headed towards the living room, still entangled as they were when they pushed past his mothers who, surprisingly, did not try to object but followed them there. Of course, they wouldn't let them have a private moment anywhere outside their own bedroom even when they had to plan the dinner the following evening.

Belladonna looked at her as she was settling down next to her sisters to tell her what she'd heard many times echoing in her head after the woman's gaze shouted it inside her brain. You chose to be the next wife of the Ancestral Manor.

But she hadn't. She'd only ever wanted to be Valtor's hence why she was next to him on the bench in front of the piano even if she had no business there since business had nothing to do with their relationship much to her mothers-in-law's chagrin. And if letting the manor and the three witches that controlled it claim as much of her time as they could get their claws into was the only way to spend the rest of her life with him, then she was ready to pay the price. Because she didn't even want to try to imagine a life without him. She could do it, she knew. But it wouldn't be real. It wouldn't be a life. Just existence.

She laid her head down on Valtor's shoulder knowing that he wouldn't mind. And nobody was asking his mothers, the sounds of the piano shutting them up when even they didn't allow themselves to interrupt art when it was engraved all over the manor and was practically a part of it. And their love was the purest form of art as they kept weaving it together despite all the sharpness in its way as the melody proved when it filled the emptiness of the mansion around them and drowned out any scorn coming from his mothers to let them grow together despite all attempts of his mothers to turn them into something they weren't. They were in love and that was their home.

#winx club #winx griffin #winx valtor #griffin x valtor #covenshipping #ancestral witches #winx belladonna #winx lysslis #winx tharma #winx ediltrude #winx zarathustra #winx bloom #winx darkar #bloom x darkar #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing

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skvaderarts · 5 years ago

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Soliloquy Chapter 4:

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Otherwise, you can read the new chapter below. Enjoy!

Notes: I continue to be humbled by your support and kindness! The comments I continue to receive and the warm reception that the community has given me make me feel warm and fuzzy inside! A special shout out to SkylarMorgan1899 on Tumblr for keeping me going through a long night of writing by giving me someone who I know is always happy when I make something new. You're the best and this chapter is for you! Looking at you too, Mallovarwen! You guys rock!

Chapter Four: Deviation

The silence that lingered in the space between them held a physical presence. In a way, it was like hitting a reset switch on their entire interaction, stopping everyone dead in their tracks. Vergil and Magnolia raged a silent but passive battle, some conflict unknown to Nero holding their collective silent attention. As the young devil hunter straightened out his coat and realigned his stance, he couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going on here. What had gone on here in the past to lead to this moment? Vergil shifted his sheathed blade into his off-hand and craned his head slightly to the left, beckoning the answer to an unasked question. Magnolia sighed as her hands flopped uselessly to her sides and Nero could tell at that moment that the woman standing before them meant no further harm.

“... Soul Scrying is a bit closer to Necromancy than I tend to lean and you know that.” She said tiredly, her voice almost a whisper. Or perhaps she was actually whispering. Nero did possess better hearing than the average person, after all. It was entirely possible.

Vergil took a step forward, seemingly more relaxed now that she wasn’t doing whatever she had done mere moments ago. Things seemed to escalate wildly and unpredictably into left field with the eldest Son of Sparda in play, and he was becoming more and more aware of this. The woman before him showed her age at that moment, a lifetime of unsaid worries displaying in her body language. She and Vergil both shared a predilection for aging extraordinarily well, but in the simple act of shifting her center of balance and slumping more to one side against the railing of her front steps, she aged a decade in an instant. Vergil approached the bottom of the steps, resting his hand on the first segment of the wrought iron railing. He then looked up at her, the state of calm calculation that was often so closely associated with him fully returning for the first time since it had abandoned him in the underworld with Dante earlier that day.

“If I wanted a Necromancer, I wouldn’t have come here,” Vergil stated in a very matter of fact way, belying deeper emotions,” Although I do not know the extent of my request at this moment, I can’t imagine that it extends past your limitations.”

“And those limitations are there for a reason,” She replied as she folded her arms across her chest. Nero caught a glimpse of what seemed to be tattooed skin ascending her arms as her baggy sleeves exposed a small portion of lower arms. “It isn’t often that someone goes looking into the beyond without plans to take something from it.”

Nero heard her words, but he was too focused on the markings on her arms. There seemed to be symbols of some sort mixed in between what seemed to be a crescent moon and an eye on each arm respectively. Although distinctly different from V’s tattoos, Nero couldn’t help but wonder if they functioned in a similar way. Then again, he had no idea how the mysterious devil summoner’s powers worked for that matter, so he couldn’t exactly compare them beyond noting the obvious fact that they were both attached to the bodies of beings with questionable abilities. And what was this talk of Necromancy and Alchemy? Wasn’t that what that idiot Agnus had been up to back at the Order of the Sword?

“I am more than aware of the fact that someone cannot bring something back that is fully claimed by powers outside of our control,” Vergil stated almost solemnly,” But I am also aware that your ancestors have had dealings with souls that span every possible segment of reality. And that they kept meticulous records.”

Magnolia scoffed at the statement, seemingly somewhat amused. “Yes, well they took a much more liberal approach to the Trinity of Realities than I do. And that time has long since passed. But on that note,” she glanced from side to side as if to check for onlookers,” … This is a conversation better had inside over a cup of tea, don’t you think?”

Vergil paused for a moment before giving a single nod and starting up the steps. Nero started after him, realizing after a moment that the older man wasn’t going to politely ask him to come along. He seemed to expect him to be proactive and independent, even when he hadn’t the slightest clue what on earth he was getting himself into. But regardless, he hurriedly followed them through the threshold of the front door, catching up just as Vergil stepped through the doorway. This seemed to be a conversation they needed to have in private. Apparently, the entire neighborhood knowing what they were here for wasn’t something anyone was comfortable factoring into their plans. Understandable.

The just shy of middle-aged women showed them to their seats in the living room and then stepped out of the room into the kitchen. The narrow profile of the townhome made for a living space that wasn’t terribly over-furnished as it would make things claustrophobic, so the room consisted of two contemporary, almost mid-century modern chairs that were positioned with their backs to an open bay window. They faced the matching love seat across the room from them, a circular coffee table covered in pleasant-smelling herbs and candles spanning the space between them while a small arm table sat between the chairs covered in a few well-worn books. An open birdcage sat near the corner of the room between a large potted fern and the fireplace that didn’t seem to work since it was bricked up and a piece of framed minimalist art was leaned against it. All in all, it was a comfortable space.

Or at least it would have been if it didn’t force Nero and Vergil to sit so near to one another.

The second their bodies had made contact with the plush upholstering of the couch, both of them had migrated as far in either direction as they possibly could. Vergil opted to watch the hallway between the kitchen and the front door while Nero idly turned a sizable leaf over in his hand, taking care not to break it off of its host plant. Thankfully, Magnolia returned a moment later with a tray in hand. She sat it down amidst the plants and candles on the coffee table, removing the lid of the silver tray to display several croissants, various preserves, butter, teacups, and sugar cubes along with a small metal container that presumably contained some sort of dairy product. Everything seemed fresh, as though it had been made from scratch just moments ago. The mixture of smells was intoxicating.

“You're both lucky,” She let slip a small, genuine smile,” You caught me just after I made these. I like to treat myself in the evenings. Help yourself.”

Nero didn’t hesitate to go for one of the croissants. He wasn’t a tea person himself, but he imagined Kyrie would love this if she’d be present. Maybe he could bring her by sometime… “Thank you.”

Magnolia laughed as Nero completely skipped any toppings and helped himself to the buttery roll, nearly eating it in one large bite. “So, if I bake you more of these, can we call the incident with the stairs even, then?” She asked playfully. Nero didn’t hesitate to nod in agreement. He was keen on any agreement that got him quicker access to these delectable butter coated rolls. What the hell did she put in these? Liquid addiction?

Vergil watched their interaction absent-mindedly from over the cup of tea that he was in the process of fixing. Part of him couldn’t help but be slightly entertained by the younger man’s behavior when placated with treats. He was certainly more polite towards Magnolia than he was towards him, although that could have just been because he now knew she was powerful enough to throw him down a flight of stairs without even touching him. Still, their interaction affected him in a way that he could not place. Or maybe he had repressed it. Perhaps it reminded him of some long lost memory from a lifetime ago.

“Your bloodline traces itself back to Vigrid, does it not?” Vergil inquired, seemingly trying to remember something that he had forgotten.

Magnolia nodded. “Better than Noatun. Neither place is very ideal, but I’d like to stay as far from Fimbulventr as possible. Thankfully, I haven’t had reason to go to either place in my lifetime,” She turned to Nero, taking a sip of her tea,” Where are you from, then? I don’t get the impression you were reared in Capulet. Count yourself lucky!”

Nero shrugged nonchalantly and took a brief respite from suffocating himself with pastries to answer.” Fortuna Island.”

Both Vergil and Magnolia stared at him in blank, abject horror as if he had just cursed them and everything they stood for. Magnolia shot Vergil a glare and smacked him with her ceramic teaspoon, shaking her head in disappointment. “Don’t look so surprised! You’re supposed to be his father, after all! What on earth possessed you to raise him on that godforsaken island?!”

Vergil sat the now empty teacup down and sighed uncomfortably. “... I didn’t… If I had known Nero was there in the first place, I would have never-”

Seemingly mid-sentence, Vergil suddenly remembered that he was sitting next to Nero and he stopped, turning to make eye contact with him. There was something more to the look in his eyes that the younger man couldn’t quite place, but it held his attention regardless. “... I would have never left him there.”

Nero felt himself swallow hard in discomfort. Now he could place the look in his father’s eyes. It was regret. Sorrow even. And it wasn’t an emotion that he would have ever associated with his Vergil until this exact moment. Until the moment he had seen him express it, regardless of how subtle. Nero wound his fingers together and looked back down towards the tray of food on the table. He suddenly felt an intense, all-consuming desire to look anywhere but at the eldest Son of Sparda.

Vergil looked at him quietly for a moment before releasing a silent breath and turning back to Magnolia. The look of pain-filled comprehension in her face spoke volumes. “... What are you hoping to achieve by asking me to look into this for you, Vergil? I can’t change the past. You know that.”

He leaned across the space between them, illustrating his point a bit further by getting closer to her. “I remember reading something about the properties of some arcane timepiece used by your ancestors to offset time. It delayed the process of dying, even after death. You should know better than most that death does not make a soul irretrievable. It just makes it slightly more… difficult.”

Magnolia sat back as if to process Vergil’s words. She nodded to herself before taking a final sip of her tea and setting the cup back on her tray. Nero remained quiet, listening in as he idly consumed yet another croissant. He still hadn’t looked in their direction, however. She sighed and quietly laughed to herself at the preposterous situation she had somehow gotten herself into. “Admittedly, a soul hasn’t been fully processed until it has been claimed by an afterlife. Purgatorio isn’t the best at its job on a good day, and if this is one of your relatives, I can only guess they might... hit a hiccup processing the paperwork, so to speak. I doubt they’d notice if someone slipped out of the waiting room.”

Nero scoffed at the comment, unsure of why the mental image of being stuck in a waiting room in between heaven and hell was so amusing to him. Maybe it was how clinical and utterly boring it seemed. After all, he highly doubted that they had any magazines down there to read or anything. Or up there? Where the hell was Purgatorio in relation to the human realm? Could they go there? What even was it? “So you’re saying that we can, what, just call the underworld or whatever and just ask for someone’s soul? Is that how you got out of there?”

Vergil shook his head, not at all willing or ready to regale his son -or anyone for that matter- with exciting tales from that horrific chapter of his life. Magnolia stood up and gestured for the pair to follow her upstairs. They did as she requested, following her up two stories of dark stairs into the attic. On one of the last steps, Nero tripped, nearly falling backward down the stairs. Before he could catch himself, an unseen force braced him, pushing him forward where Vergil grabbed him by the front of his coat. The older devil slayer shook his head slightly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were magnetically attracted to stairs, child.”

Nero pulled free, trying, and more or less succeeding in suppressing the chuckle he almost let loose. “You know what- it’s not funny!”

Vergil had turned away from him and the younger man could almost swear he had just seen Vergil snicker. No, that couldn’t be correct. Vergil didn’t have a sense of humor… did he? It was an almost unfathomably creepy prospect to the younger devil hunter, so he pushed it aside and decided to return to the matter at hand. He followed them up into the attic as a light flickered on and he was greeted to the sight of what seemed to be a workshop of some sort. Several windows that were inlaid into the back of the roof let in cool air and plants, bottles, beakers, Bunson burners, and books littered the space in neat piles. The plants were in small pots, some suspended on racks, and some hanging from the ceiling. Nero wandered aimlessly through the surprisingly spacious room, taking in the sights. “So um, did you catch me on the stairs just now? And what do ya do for a living, again?”

The middle-aged woman was in the process of climbing down from a step ladder with a large book in tow. She pushed aside several pieces of lab equipment and brushed the table clean before sitting the book down and opening it. She flipped through several pages, speed reading as she searched. “I’m an Apothecary. I sell herbal remedies for things like the common cold and stomach pain, mostly in the form of teas and water-soluble powders. And I see you noticed that I did that. I’m surprised. You couldn’t have seen me do that.”

Nero approached to get a better look at the book. “Yea, well I could feel it. Reminded me of when I fell down the stairs before, except that was a push instead of a pull.”

Magnolia nodded, impressed. “You catch on quicker than your father. Maybe you won’t make a mess of things quite as often, either. Shouldn’t be too hard, all things considered.”

Vergil shot her an unappreciative glance from across the room. He was examining another bookcase on the far side of the room, but unlike her, he didn’t require the step ladder to do so. Magnolia gestured towards the book in his hand. “I think it’s that one. That’s the one I’m searching for, right there. Bring it. Quickly!”

In the blink of an eye, Vergil had placed the book down on top of the already open book on the table. Magnolia barely paid his rapid movement any mind, but the same could not be said for Nero. Although he didn’t say anything, he still found himself wondering why Vergil had felt the need to use his teleporting ability to do that. Showoff.

After flipping through several pages of the book, she pointed towards one of the symbols. “This one. This is the one I need. I’ll ask that you stand back a ways, please. Thank you.”

With that, she proceeded to pick a few leaves off of several of the plants in the room. She pointed towards a few of the plants nearest to Vergil and Nero, instructing them as to how many leaves she needed and how best to handle the plants so as to not harm them or themselves. After gathering everything, she placed everything into a bowl and returned to the book, preparing the next step. She seemed to read several paragraphs before stopping for a moment to pour a clear liquid into the bowl and stir. “Terribly sorry, but which one of you is closest to the person we’re looking for? Biologically, that is.”

Nero and Vergil drew a blank, glancing at one another before turning back towards her. Nero shrugged dubiously. “Actually, I kinda think we’re about even there.”

A look of confusion crossed Magnolia’s face before she stopped and turned to stare at Vergil, disbelief clouding her large grey eyes. She then turned to Nero, noting the discomfort they seemed to both share. The brown-haired woman then shook her head, returning to the bowl. “... Vergil, what… what happened to this child?” Her voice was a pained whisper, her eyes betraying the worry she seemed to be trying to conceal.

Vergil shifted uncomfortably in place before sighing. Nero looked up at him tentatively. He needed this clarified as well. It had never been made clear how V had met his untimely end. Vergil seemed almost distant when he spoke as if the matter weighed heavily on him and he did not wish to speak of it. Now that the youngest descendent of Sparda thought about it, that was probably the case. Although he didn’t understand anything about their relationship (or if they even had one) he knew enough to be able to tell that this was a sensitive topic that Vergil seemed to want to avoid at all costs.

“... I split my soul into two parts and stored one half within him. During the remerging process he…” Vergil trailed off for a moment before letting out a displeased sigh,”... He turned to dust and was dissolved in the blast... unfortunately, he was completely destroyed.”

At that comment, Nero turned away from Vergil and folded his arms, peering out of the window. Somehow he had known that his father had been the source of what had been killing V. He could just feel it. After all, aside from being kinda frail, he had been fine for most of the time that he’d known him until suddenly, everything went downhill. But now he had conclusive proof and he wasn’t sure what he felt about it. It was too soon to come to conclusions, but he knew he wasn’t happy about it. But what had Vergil ever done that he was okay with? Helping destroy the Qliphoth? He had caused that, but at least he had fixed that in the end. His feelings towards the older man were complicated, to say the least, and at this moment in time, he didn’t really know how to feel about anything.

Magnolia stopped stirring and sat the bowl down in front of them both, gesturing towards the now dark green slurry. “Better to be safe than sorry then. I need a bit of blood from you both. I have to be sure. There is a knife behind you if you need it. I don’t know how clean it is since I use it for the plants, but still. It’s something.”

Before Nero could turn to look at the blade, Vergil had unsheathed Yamato and removed the glove on his off-hand. He then used the razor-sharp blade to slice open his palm, dripping a steady stream of blood into the mixture. Magnolia and Nero both stared at him, slightly concerned that he had gone mad. “I said a few drops, Vergil. Did I not say a few drops? I was very clear.”

She looked to Nero for a second opinion and he nodded, still slightly taken aback by his father’s lack of hesitation. Vergil gestured towards Nero. “Hold out your hand.”

Nero raised an eyebrow. “Look, you’ve already cut my ar-”

Vergil gave him a look that could cut stone, instantly silencing him. Nero smirked to himself. Good to know that he didn’t want her to know that. He would save that as a bargaining chip for later. He then removed the glove on his right hand and held up his arm. It wouldn’t be the first time he had been cut by Yamato’s blade. “Look, just don’t hack my hand off or I’m going to beat your crazy old ass to-”

Before he could finish his threat, Vergil was finished. A dull throb traveled up his arm as blood trickled down from his hand and onto his fingertips. Nero positioned his hand over the bowl and gave his palm a tight squeeze before he began to heal. Within seconds the wound had reclosed and magnolia had resumed stirring. She set the bowl down and reached over, yanking a hair from each of them in tandem. Nero rubbed his head in discomfort while Vergil shot her a look of absolute disdain. Magnolia snickered to herself. “Oh, come of it then! I know how touchy you are about your hair, so I wasn’t going to ask now, was I?!”

Vergil folded his arms, clearly done with her shit. “Is it ready or not, Magnolia?”

Magnolia added the hairs and gave the bowl a quick stir. Within seconds, the mixture glowed a vibrant red before turning black. Then it turned bright purple, a faint pulse flowing through the liquid. The woman poured the mixture into an hourglass-shaped vessel and turned it upside down. The once thick liquid seemed to come to a stand still, dripping slowly into the bottom compartment of the glass hourglass. With that, she stood back and she nodded, a pleased look on her face. Nero looked between her, Vergil, and the glass, his interest peaked.

“Good, we’ve done it!” She exclaimed almost gleefully. The two men looked at her blankly. More explanation was in order.

“How does it work,” Nero asked passively, reaching towards the glass container. Magnolia smacked his hand to reprimand him, causing him to curse under his breath and retract his hand. No touching. Duly noted.

“Magnolia...” Vergil was clearly running out of patience Either that, or the suspense was getting to him.

“How do I put this in a way that you lot will understand,” She said as she glanced between them and the glass. She snapped her fingers, a metaphorical lightbulb coming on in her head,” This hourglass works as a sort anchor. I was able to verify the integrity of the soul we were searching for. We have until this hourglass runs out to finish preparations. If we’re not ready by then, that’s it. I’d give us 72 hours, tops.”

Vergil nodded, seemingly absorbing the urgency of the task ahead of them. “What do you require then?”

She gestured towards the book, Vergil seemed to be able to read the pages, but they were written in a strange symbolic script that Nero couldn’t decipher. Magnolia flipped the page and pointed to one of the diagrams. “I’m going to need quite a bit more blood, a few more hairs from you for starters,” She gestured towards Vergil and he glared in distaste,” And I need an item close to the person who’s soul you are trying to invoke. That part is essential. This will not work without it. I cannot stress that fact enough. I trust you have something?”

Vergil shook his head and Magnolia groaned. Nero searched the inner compartments of his mind palace, trying to think of something. And then it hit him like a brick wall. “... I still have V’s book, Vergil.”

For one single solitary second, Vergil actually looked pleased. It was a fleeting thing that you’d miss if you blinked, but Nero caught it nonetheless. He turned to his son and nodded, internally glad that this was not something he needed to go mad trying to figure out. “Excellent. Where is it, then?”

Nero shifted uncomfortably. See, that was the catch, wasn’t it? “It’s at my place...In Fortuna.”

The eldest Son of Sparda Nodded, considering Nero’s statement. “It doesn’t take that long by car. The ferry ride is the issue.” Nero stated simply.

Vergil looked at Nero as though he had just told a joke. He tilted his head to the side and leaned in to look at his son closer. At that moment, he really took in their family resemblance. It was quite stark, wasn’t it? “We don’t need a ferry, child. Have you forgotten that we have wings?”

Nero smirked in remembrance. How had he forgotten that? He didn’t even need to be triggered to use his! Magnolia stepped forward and gestured towards the hourglass. “Well, however, you're getting there, be back here within 48 hours. I need that long to prepare everything. Hurry along, now. Go!”

Vergil begrudgingly nodded and headed towards the stairs with Nero in tow. They made their way down the stairs and out of the front door, taking the stairs two at a time. As they hurried along the dark street, the van came flying down the street, nearly crushing them both. Vergil briefly considered stabbing Nico but decided against it. She hadn’t done anything especially egregious to him quite yet. But she was indeed pushing it.

As the pare boarded the van, Nico turned to them looking for an update. “I was starting to think that she’d killed you both in there! What the hell took so long?!”

Nero flopped down in the passenger seat as Vergil headed towards the back of the van. After the ride here had nearly cost him his life, he wasn’t keen to ride in the front again. “Nico, I’m gonna have to explain all this another time. Right now, we’ve got to head back to the office and get Dante. He’s going to lose his shit when we tell him what we just did. But we gotta hurry.”

She nodded and floored the gas, sending the vehicle rocketing forward towards the intersection. “You don’t have to tell me twice!”

The van shot up the street at top speed, headed in the direction of Dante’s place. There was absolutely no time to lose. They couldn’t screw this up. There was too much at stake.

Thanks so much for reading this everyone! Again, I stayed up all night, so I hope I didn’t spell anything too wrong. If you see anything feel free to let me know. The next chapter comes out on Wednesday, May 13th, so stay posted! Things are about to get CRAZY!

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