“Now I have found a monster under my skin. She’s all craving and wild, long howls and strong limbs. She paces through my veins, feet hitting the earth like drum beats. I hear her coming when my blood sings. She’s got fire in her eyes and prey in her teeth. Her jaws are like vows, unyielding, iron like her will. I promised her the world. And she ate it whole, hungry still.”
Blood and Circuses || Court of Chaos Event Para || Self Para
"Your Majesty." Alekto's armor clinked softly when she bowed at the hip, drowned out by the roar of revelry that filled the room. She raised her head shortly afterwards, staring at her queen with a fiery intensity that paired well with the gleaming smile spread across her lips. "Congratulations on your marvelous festivities."
Not long ago, Alekto would have given the expected deference toward her ruling monarch with a fake smile and polite, measured words. She knew better than to linger long around Oberon's whims if she actually wanted to enjoy the party, and cared little for the superficial pleasantries of high society. Over a century of service taught Alekto how to stroke his ego, assure his paranoid mind of her unquestioning loyalty, and make appearances as quickly and effortlessly as possible. It was more than the little prat deserved, but she did what she had to in order to maintain power and his good graces. The kidnapped king had always been a means to an end — the path to power and freedom from Naveen and the Seelie, and then the momentary inconvenience which allowed her to comfortably maintain her power and influence. Nothing more.
Titania was different. The Wolf Queen had long since earned Alekto's respect, but now she had her admiration. When it became clear that a shift in leadership would occur in court, Alekto felt shackles break. A ruler that understood war, that understood bloodlust and conquest, that despised the treaty, that would grant a reprieve from Oberon's tantrums and childish whims, that would allow Alekto to embrace the war and militarization brought by the invading human army and the torn Veil without having to worry about a petulant monarch desperate for glory.... it was everything she wanted that Oberon could not, or would not, give her. Alekto had wasted no time in grasping the opportunity to secure a place in the new regime. The second her spies had informed her of the change, and the assurance that Oberon — the incompetent buffoon — would not be returning from capture soon, if at all, Alekto had presented herself before the ascendant queen to confirm her complete, enthusiastic loyalty. She'd brought the heads of three of Titania's political dissenters and jewelry made from bones collected from the fallen invaders as an additional gesture of goodwill and spent the next several months eagerly proving her loyalty with brutal and calculated precision.
It quickly became apparent that Archmage Bone embraced the changes to the Unseelie Court. She enforced them herself when needed, adorning her usual Unseelie attire with more fur and bone and claw as the Wolf Clan's presence increased. Eventually, she'd even taken to wearing a black wolf pelt atop her robes or, more often, the dark cloak which indicated her office as Archmage in their place when she donned her armor.
Some would call it sycophantic. For Alekto, it was a matter of opportunity. Securing her place beside the throne, and all the delicious freedom and power which came with it. Though she would never admit it, and certainly made every effort to address the issue of a kidnapped Oberon, a large part of Alekto hoped he'd stay gone. She kept the avenues open in case he returned to power, of course, and in case some other tumultuous event were to shake the power structures of the Unseelie, but nine months down the road had allowed her the space to settle comfortably into her new role.
As Alekto straightened up, bowing her head upon the queen's acknowledgement and polite dismissal, it was the first time in a very long time that her words to the ruling monarch were genuine.
"I hope you enjoy the celebration, my queen. If you require me, I will be at your service."
Alekto certainly made sure to be proactive with said service. The Magi had adapted well to the unceasing military conditions brought about by the torn Veil. As far as Alekto was concerned, there was still a war going on, and she made sure every faerie under her command was trained and operated accordingly. More disciplined, more aggressive.... and it would be a lie to say that Alekto hadn't indulged herself lately, taking to enforcing the crown with a particular bloodlust in the absence of a new battlefield for the past several months. The stacked necklace of blood talismans and bone currently gleaming at her chest beneath the party's dazzling glamours and flickering torchlight had been one such gratification — made from the hands of the latest captured dissenters. The unnerved expressions from some of the nobility upon seeing it when Alekto made her way through the ballroom were an additional delight.
One such noble recovered quickly enough, addressing Alekto with a smile and a quick wave for the other ladies around her to follow as she approached.
"Archmage Boneeee," the woman purred, clearly deep in her cups already. "How lovely to see you."
"Lady Vervain." Alekto nodded. "Lady Harrow, Lady Cress."
Despite the steady greeting, it took quite the effort to maintain a polite expression even as she recoiled internally at the shoddy glamour cast upon the first woman's gown. What appeared to be an attempt at replicating the night sky crackled and faded with each movement or shift in the light, rendering the effect more akin to splattered paint than anything else. An insult to magick, really, but Alekto was in good enough spirits to bite her tongue.
"I trust you're enjoying yourself," another of the noblewomen spoke up, grabbing a glass from a passing servant and handing it to Alekto.
"I've only just arrived, my lady, but if you three are any indication, I have no doubt that I will be soon."
"Yes, yes, there's plenty of drink to go around," Lady Vervain sighed, waving her hand. "Good, strong sidhe liquor. I fear I lack the stomach for whatever the Wolves enjoy."
The third woman, the youngest daughter of Lord Cress, clearly had a different opinion, if her swaying and the clutched drink in her hand were any indication. It was strong enough that Alekto could smell it at her short distance, immediately recalling Wildlands revelry. The sorceress made a mental note to locate whoever was serving that particular brew before the night's end.
"Tell me, Archmage," Lady Vervain raised a hand as if she was going to grasp Alekto before slowly lowering it, as if she'd abruptly thought better of the decision. "We've been wondering.... is it true that you've been spending all your time experimenting on blood in that dark, isolated manor of yours?"
"Iliene," Lady Harrow hissed, pinching the other woman's arm not-so subtly and quickly turning to Alekto with an apologetic, nervous look. "Please, forgive my cousin, Archmage, she meant no offense. It is only too much wine and too little sense."
Alekto raised a brow, a scoff quickly escaping her lips. "Wine and curiosity are often the death of restraint."
"I only meant to ask, Archmage..." Iliene Vervain recovered smoothly, to her credit, keeping a steady voice and a renewed determination as she straightened herself up. "If the rumors about your...." her eyes lowered briefly, staring at the Lilithian pendant hidden amongst Alekto's other jewelry ".... intensified proclivities for arcane research are true."
The human attack and the taste of war were enough for Alekto's renewed interests in blood magick to resurface among the court, and Titania's ascent to sole ruling monarch opened the path for an open display of just how deep those interests went. Almost no one was surprised that the Archmage was counted among the faithful of the Church of Lilith, of course, but the recent open display had fed the gossipers for weeks. It was amusing to witness, particularly among the more dramatic courtiers.
The sorceress smiled as she tilted her head. "What rumors would those be, love?"
Iliene smiled back, eyes widening in excitement at the opening. "They say that Queen Titania is employing your services in crafting some new, dreadful spell...others swear your estate is closed to callers because you drain humans and fae there, crafting all those pretty talismans for Celestials know what ends. That the tattered Veil and human attack made Alekto Bone invested in synthesizing new forms of magick."
"And what do you believe, my lady?" Alekto raised her glass to her lips, keeping a measured expression. It was all true of course, to an extent. The torn Veil represented a new threat, one Alekto wanted to be prepared for when the humans eventually returned, and an opportunity ripe for exploitation. Access to human blood, untainted by the yoke of slavery or the effects of fae magic unlike the humans typically accessible in Belladonna, meant access to new opportunities to test the limits of blood magick.
What the court did not know where the countless hours poured over building new defenses, and new options among her arsenal, for one specific purpose. To slay Naveen Byrd the second the opportunity to finish skinning the slimy wretch once and for all presented itself.
"I believe—" Iliene took another, deep drink. "That there's a reason you come to a celebration of our victory and the queen's rule dressed in armor as if you expect you may encounter an army just as much as you may encounter a beautiful lover to warm your bed at night."
"It has only been nine months since the attack," Alekto hummed.
"You expect me to believe the fucking Storm Weaver needs armor to protect herself? I imagine half your body is covered in some esoteric talisman or hidden spell. I may be a drunk, but I am not a fool." Iliene laughed and moved forward, decreasing the distance until she could be heard at a near whisper. "You wear this..." she tapped the chestplate with her glass "...to send a message. Just like the rest of us wear our glamours and silks."
The other noblewomen froze, too curious or too uncomfortable to intervene. Lady Harrow let out an awkward cough, gently beginning to pull Lady Cress away as much as she could without seeming impolite.
Amused, Alekto suppressed the instinct to step back or allow her magick the free reign to crackle over the metal just enough to fry the noblewoman's hand or force her to move back. Truly, Oberon's absence had done wonders for her patience and her mood. Irritation and curtness had given way to the delight of being able to exploit the chaos spreading like wildfire throughout Midsummer, particularly here, where Titania's rise had disrupted power and influence throughout the court, and left many uncertain as to where they stood. For the first time in a while, Alekto was interested in playing the game, toying with influence and knowledge to her benefit for more than just a release from boredom.
"Not many are brave enough to act as if they know me this well, Lady Vervain." Alekto's smile took on a predator's edge. The other two ladies quickly found ways to excuse themselves from the conversation.
"There it is," Iliene sighed as she raised her glass. "I mean no disrespect, of course. Why shouldn't you appear as you are — dangerous and sharp enough to threaten anyone who comes too close? It's what any of us would do. You wear it well."
"Then why is it, love, that you come so close? Was there truly so much bravery in the bottom of your cups tonight?"
The noblewoman hiccupped, which was enough answer on its own. It was remarkable that she was still standing without the slightest sway or stumble. Perhaps that was why Alekto afforded her enough respect to indulge her.
"Because all of us, you included, are here to have fun, darling." Iliene grinned. "Unless the rumors that you've been taking yourself too seriously to enjoy a bit of revelry anymore are also true."
Alekto laughed, quickly and genuinely enough that whatever tension had begun dissipated in an instant. "No, but your reputation for incessant audacity seems to have been an understatement." She finished her drink, a wave of her hand sending the glass toward the tray of the closest servant and another bringing a replacement back to her waiting hand. "To answer your question: I am fulfilling my duty as Archmage, and using the available means at my disposal to ensure I may continue to do so as effectively as possible. Blood magick is, of course, a vital component of those means. I wouldn't want people to think I've developed Seelie sensibilities now, would I?"
"Celestials no," the noblewoman scoffed, finally taking a step back. "They seem as if they may be ready to tear Mab from her throne at any second these days at the mere mention of the stuff."
"Perhaps they should. It would save us the trouble," Alekto hummed quietly enough so that only Iliene could hear, earning a wide-eyed smile in response.
"To a hopeful future, then," Lady Vervain said. She raised her glass higher. "And to Queen Titania."
Alekto returned the gesture, electricity crackling around her eyes and fingertips. "Long may she reign."
And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth
Neve smelled Alekto’s magic before she heard her. It was instinct that brought Neve to a crouching fighting stance, her dagger extended in front of her in warning and her teeth bared. But at the sight of the Archmage she blanched. Ten vials of blood still incriminatingly hung in the air around her, now filled to the brim with their precious cargo. Every instinct Neve possessed told her to attack, despite the absurdity of it. But even she, an irrefutable risk taker, knew better. She slowly lowered her blade, wiping the blood off on her cloak with a practiced nonchalance. But, she knew the other woman had seen the moment of terror on her face.
“It’s rude to stare, Archmage” she drawled. With a swirl of her finger the small hovering corks popped back into each vial and fell around her. Neve looked down at Jacque’s still form, still unable to summon much regret. If anything she felt annoyed at the intrusion. Archmage Bone seemed to have a habit of showing up at the most inopportune moments, always dripped with smug superiority. Had Alekto Bone been nearly anyone else, Neve would have cut her down the minute she felt her presence. She was still dangerously tempted to try, despite her rising fear. Instead, Neve collected the vials around her, making effort not to appear remotely frantic as she did it. When she had, she rose.
“It’s a nice evening we’re having,” Neve continued, not bothering to take a glance at the body still sprawled behind her. She could feel the warm blood spatter on her cheeks. Her words were a challenge, daring the Archmage to question the strange situation laid out in front of them. It was, from reading hundreds of pages of Luna’s diaries, what Neve thought Luna would do. There had always been a strange confidence in the court ladies writing that implied she felt she was doing the right thing, even at her most horrible. Luna Crow had been able to justify just about anything if it pleased her.
“Luna,” Alekto purred, a smile spreading across her lips. She took a step forward, looking down at the raised blade with the same amusement one might have when threatened by a child with a stick. Her magick pressed down heavily in the air, less an explicit threat and more a languid stretch. She’d seen the terror, smelt the fear like a predator smelt blood, and she reveled in it. One as powerful as her did not need to threaten. It was there naturally in the way Alekto’s posture was the very expression of ease.
“It’s rude to point a blade at someone. One might take it as an insult. The wrong person might even take it as insubordination. A dangerous mistake in times of war. People are already so nervous with potential spies and old tensions running about…” She shrugged, studying the vials as Luna collected them intently.
Alekto’s smile returned at the mundane remark on the weather. There was something vicious there, a cat toying with prey. Luna was good at masking her emotions, but that terror… it had been far too acute for Alekto to dismiss it. “Indeed. It smells as if it might rain… metallic, like blood.” She raised her hand, crooking her fingers at the dead man. Magick pulled at the remnants of blood left behind after Luna’s siphoning, moving the body like a grotesque puppet until it stood upright, suspended in place by the spell.
“Shame, he was almost handsome…” Alekto approached the corpse, studying his face. She remained alert as ever to Luna’s movements and position, prepared to react at the slightest hint of aggression magical or otherwise, but she allowed herself to give the appearance of turning away from the noblewoman. The sorceress raised a hand, grasping the man’s face and moving it from side to side, determined to memorize every detail.
“Who was he?” The question was casual, spoken without a glance to Luna, but there was an edge to her intonation that made it clear Alekto was asking in her capacity and authority as Archmage, not just as a fellow courtier.
It tore at her heart to see Alekto suffering on her account. Alekto, who had seen Naveen for what he was and had done her best to warn Amity, now back at Amity’s side to rescue her. Not once had she chastised Amity for her foolishness, no matter how much Amity felt like she deserved it.
There was some small part of her that wondered if this was her burden to bear for ignoring her sister for so long. That the Celestials must be punishing her from remaining willfully blind to Naveen’s true nature and all the damage he had done.
As the blood intertwined with the chains, Amity began to feel a searing sensation where she was bound. For a moment, it was bearable. Then it was excruciating and Amity felt tears streaming down her face. If only they could cool the burning sensation. She stifled a scream, not wanting to draw Alekto’s focus from the spell, but she could not help the low groan that escaped from her lips.
Slowly, Alekto drew the spell against the chains. The blood turned liquid against Amity’s skin to slip between it and the chains binding her until it coated the inside of the restraints, all while the rest gripped the chains along their entirety from manacle to anchor. There was, for a moment, desperation in her ragged breaths and the hissed incantations guiding the blood. It took all her strength to force her now shallow breathing into a regular rhythm as the agonizing sensation moved across her back languidly, a cruel painter drawing strokes of an all too familiar image along her skin.
For a moment, she looked up at Amity as the other woman let out a sound. Amidst the concern and pain, deep within the sorceress’ gaze, was a twinge of fear. All she could do to keep the rising panic at bay was to focus on her sister and the task at hand.
Had that not been what kept her alive those two centuries under Byrd’s grasp? Focus, breathe, act. The pain will be dealt with later. Survive.
Only this time, it was not merely her own survival at stake. Alekto knew Byrd well enough, had too many memories of him torturing and killing those she dared to love in front of her (or, worse, making her do it) to leave Amity at his mercy again. Even as she struggled against the part of her that screamed at her to leave, and the aspects of her mind which made her feel as if she were once again a sapling under Byrd’s sadistic power, which made her relive every single agonizing moment in that damned room, it was not the prospect of her own renewed torment which frightened her the most.
Against every selfish instinct and ounce of self preservation, Alekto made a vow to herself in that dark room as blood ran down her back and her magick fought against Byrd’s chains. She would stay and use every ounce of her power to keep Byrd and his chamber at bay if that’s what it took for Amity to be free. Costs be damned.
But then, the chains began to crack. Links corroded beneath the blood, the metal hissing and popping as it twisted and wrestled against the spell. One part of the chains snapped free and left a sizable dent in the wall, falling lifelessly across the room. And the Archmage was back, stabilizing herself against the wall to continue the spell with the renewed, frenzied vigor of a trapped animal that had finally caught a glimpse of hope.
“Keir does know best, after all.” Amity said, attempting for lightness though good humor seemed a stranger to her now. But she was genuinely fond of Alekto’s servant. He was always courteous towards her and never once had looked at her like she was a wounded animal, no matter how she had appeared when she first arrived back at Ravenwood. He always never failed to look in the eye, whereas other servants were so skittish around her that they kept their gaze glued to the floor. When she did manage to glance a glimpse of their gazes, she saw only pity. It infuriated her with a rage she barely knew how to contain. So much now stirred the anger inside her.
“You were always at your best in battle,” Amity remarked. “He never let me forget that I was not. I used to think I was more apt for the healers tent, but-“ Amity sighed, “now I find myself anticipating the fight.” I want to hurt something, someone, anything. To take this rage and forge a weapon of it. “I am unaccustomed to it. But I crave it all the same.”
Amity returned Alekto’s smile, if somewhat weakly. “That we are together again is the one blessing to come from all this.”
“He is nothing to you now,” Alekto responded, venom dripping from every word. “A bad dream, a failure of a man, a pathetic mongrel fit only to be put down, whatever it is you need to do to cast him out of your mind until he is reduced to the powerless wretch he is.” Strange, to occupy the position of offering Amity the strength and support that she herself had so desperately needed after escaping Byrd. It was stranger still to see this angrier, bloodthirstier version of her sister. A version of Amity closer to who Alekto was now.
Some small, wicked part of the Archmage delighted in it. Was eager to see what Amity would do when unleashed. She merely regretted that it had taken so much suffering to bring her sister closer.
“As for battle, I wouldn’t be surprised if your wish is granted soon. The enemy is amassing too fast, their approach too steady, for me to believe they will simply walk away.” Alekto’s voice grew quieter then, though she was relatively confident that there would be no prying ears at this place at this time of night. “Truthfully, I would be disappointed if they did. You are not the only one eager for bloodshed.”
Craved would have been an understatement. Alekto yearned for war. Every fiber of her being was restless in anticipation—a cruel, wicked delight in the ability to cause mass death and destruction roared in her blood. It showed in the electricity humming in her eyes and along her hands, in the darkness within her gaze as she spoke.
But even that could not fully overshadow the relief Alekto felt at the knowledge that her sister was finally free.
“Some claim this may unite the courts and clans. A common enemy which poses enough danger to us all that we are forced to fight alongside each other,” she mused, leaning back against the tree trunk. “I will admit there is a…small delight in the knowledge that men like Balthazar Black must play nice with the Church, and Mab’s reputation as a paragon of virtue may once again come into question.”
Of course, there were unspoken limits to such cooperation. Alekto refused to allow any of her Magi—particularly those which had defected alongside her during the war and the apprentices—anywhere near Naveen Byrd and his lackeys. She had pulled political favors across Midsummer to ensure her mages were kept far away, and she had been fortunate enough to have avoided encountering the swine since All Hallow’s Eve. A small pit in her stomach formed at the knowledge that unless she had damaged Byrd badly enough, such an encounter was inevitable, given the circumstances.
Seeing Alekto like this, even after all this time, still made something within his chest twinge. Even still, even after all the pain she had caused, and the suffering, Harland still cared for her. Always had. That, alone, had been the reason he’d never quite come to killing her, despite the chance to do so on numerous occasions throughout the war, after.
Alekto Bone was a part of him, something Harland could no more cut off than a limb. The pain of it, he thinks, would break him, just as it would break him to know Freya had come to harm. Had the Celestials ever deemed a punishment for him, they would harm them both and be done with him, but Harland knew that was only asking for the slimest of chances.
There she was, though. The Lightning Mage, the Dark Daughter. Alekto. Still, as ever, his child. Defiant as she was when she had been small and furious at losing her seat on her horse, dark curls as angry as she. The pair overlap in his mind, twins to one another, but this one breaks Harland’s heart far worse. The way she speaks, a rasp and a hiss to her words, bellies her pains, her suffering.
Harland knew just how painful iron could be.
He laughs, quietly, when she says she wants the Stranger’s head on a pike, inclines his head in a nod. “Yes, I suppose you do. It is only fair, after all.”
The disembodied voice that escapes from her after her bout of pain, the way that both Thanatos nor Keir flicker at the action, makes Harland on edge, but he, like Alekto, had never known when to show weakness, when to show fear. He, in a way, could never fear her.
There was too many memories, after all, that he had of her as a child. Of her as his.
“It is true,” he begins, voice careful, even, as his gaze flickered to Keir at her shoulder, eyes hardening for the briefest of moments before shifting away. “That I sent Amity, just as it is true that she kept me up to date on your condition. But I received…a letter. And I wished to check with my own eyes that Amity was not…being untruthful.” She wouldn’t, as Harland well knew, but it - he –
Alekto raised a brow, studying Harland and his hesitation. She made a mental note to ask Amity why it was that she had taken such liberties in informing Harland Briar of her recovery, if she had known that he would arrive today. But whatever feelings Alekto had regarding that situation, they were greatly diminished by those which arose from Harland's presence now.
Once more, the disembodied glamour of her voice rang throughout the stable. You believe her to be a liar, then? I find that difficult to believe. You were the one who sent her in the first place. She gains nothing from such falsehoods, and you know this.
Still, despite her anger and outrage, Alekto recognized the way Harland looked at her steward, and the way Keir braced himself and stood taller than before. She turned to the latter and motioned her head towards the door.
"My lady, are you c-" Keir stopped himself immediately, recognizing himself and the situation. Were they alone, he would have certainly had no qualms against voicing his concerns. Before Harland, though, such attempts would only look as if he were questioning his mistress. With pursed lips, Keir nodded, bowed at the waist while muttering a quick apology, and took his leave.
Alekto waited a moment, then returned her attentions to Harland.
I will ask you again. Why are you really here? I am not so unwell as to become foolish enough to believe this visit is merely an attempt to discern Alder's honesty.
Freya blinked, finding no will or words to try and deny the assessment, even if she would’ve preferred being able to knock Alekto back a bit. “Unfortunately,” she said mildly, taking another long sip of her drink, “there is always another bad day demanding my attention before such action can be taken.”
It was quite true; Harland had been poisoned, and Balthazar had seen fit to call her brutal, a harsh thing to hear from someone who only hours ago had let her know that for all intents and purposes he and her father considered themselves engaged. Then she’d had to save Balthazar’s stupid ass after he goes and gets blown up, dragging almost everyone she cared for into the process of healing a man she felt hated her but who kept insisting he cared.
Yes, things were… Not great. She ran her tongue across her teeth, flashing Alekto a look that suggested there were no sufficient outlets, full stop. “There’s a… Small oasis, perhaps.” She said, thinking of Eddie for a moment and hiding her smile in another drink, “but more and more I am being left the one to muddle us through the aftermath, with no real clue of what has actually just happened.” Now Freya frowned, resting her chin in her palm, “I don’t care for it.”
Alekto scoffed. "How reassuring for the Seelie nobility and Harland. Their fragile peace and propriety may be maintained by keeping you occupied and distracted, unable to tend to your needs or desires." The venom in her tone was not directed at Freya in the slightest. Court life was distasteful enough to the sorceress unless she had someone to manipulate or entertain herself with. Were she forced to endure Seelie sensibilities once more, it was quite possible she would combust. Or set something else alight.
It seemed Freya was not too far off from a similar outburst.
"Poor darling, treated like a delicate dove or a useful dog by those around you... it sounds terrible." Alekto tilted her head, the edge of sympathy in her voice genuine for once. "I spent two centuries under that yolk; I do not envy you. Shackles of that nature have a way of dragging one's will into the mud. Makes it hard to see anything but the filth and mire. A shame, truly, you are far too good for such conditions."
"Is this truly the life you aspire to, love?" She smiled, a gleam of something dark and curious in her gaze. "Seelie sensibilities and political crises one after another with no respite save your tiny oasis and stowing away to backwater taverns such as this one? No end in sight to your endless bad days until you burst or simply fizzle out entirely?"
Alekto scoffed. "How reassuring for the Seelie nobility and Harland. Their fragile peace and propriety may be maintained by keeping you occupied and distracted, unable to tend to your needs or desires." The venom in her tone was not directed at Freya in the slightest. Court life was distasteful enough to the sorceress unless she had someone to manipulate or entertain herself with. Were she forced to endure Seelie sensibilities once more, it was quite possible she would combust. Or set something else alight.
It seemed Freya was not too far off from a similar outburst.
"Poor darling, treated like a delicate dove or a useful dog by those around you... it sounds terrible." Alekto tilted her head, the edge of sympathy in her voice genuine for once. "I spent two centuries under that yolk; I do not envy you. Shackles of that nature have a way of dragging one's will into the mud. Makes it hard to see anything but the filth and mire. A shame, truly, you are far too good for such conditions."
"Is this truly the life you aspire to, love?" She smiled, a gleam of something dark and curious in her gaze. "Seelie sensibilities and political crises one after another with no respite save your tiny oasis and stowing away to backwater taverns such as this one? No end in sight to your endless bad days until you burst or simply fizzle out entirely?"
Neve had known she was going to kill the russet haired halfling since she had spied him in the The Golden Lute an hour before. It had been three years since she'd seen that face, with that distinctive scar that ran from his chin to the corner of his right eye. He was a muscular but slight man, a mere few inches taller than Neve. Jaques Ortolan. He was a Fox Clan thief, known to those in the fae cities to buy valuable stolen items too risky to sell within city limits. The last time Neve had seen that face, he had stolen everything she had on her person at knifepoint - including her shoes. Since she had closed her hands around that cursed ring in the Night Market, the question of who to kill to summon the amount of blood magic needed for her permanent glamour spell had haunted her. It was as if the universe had gift wrapped it's answer. Neve had always been one to hold a grudge.
That is how she found herself in the dead of night, stalking through the camp after a stumbling, drugged halfling. She wore her own old tattered indigo cloak and an embroidered black velvet jerkin and breeches that Luna had likely worn to some costume party. It was unfortunately the most practical thing in the entirety of the court lady's vast closet. So, Neve had to make due. She could not understand how Luna had had such a penchant for choosing the most uncomfortable and impractical clothing, with all of those cumbersome layers of petticoats and poof.
Neve's twin daggers were warm and familiar in her hands. Her thumbs traced the ornately carved bone hilts of the daggers as she snuck through the dark camp, a nervous movement so often done that her fingers had worn grooves into the bone. They had been a particularly lucky bit of loot, found in a purse she had stealthily cut from the shoulder of a distracted court lady many years before. Despite the hefty price she could have fetched for them in The Night Market, Neve hadn't been able to bear to part with them. Since then they had proven more valuable than any amount of gold she could have traded them for. They felt like an extension of her limbs now.
She was growing impatient now. The powdered belladonna slipped into the halflings absinthe should've immobilized him by now - just enough of a dose to paralyze without stopping the heart. But, Jaques had charged for last 10 minutes like a drunken bull, seeming to want to push through the poisons effects out of pure stubbornness. It did not even seem he had the ability to locate his tent any longer. Just when Neve had begun to doubt she knew the proper dose of poison to incapacitate a halfling, he dropped to his knees.
With a triumphant hiss, Neve charged forward with near silent footsteps. She stood above Jaques for a moment with an impish grin. "Hello Jaques," she murmured, using her true voice and lifting her hood just enough for the halfling to see her real face before she allowed the glamour to conceal it again. Neve didn't wait for an answer before one of her daggers revealed itself from the depths of her cloak and drove into Jaques heart in a flash of white. Neve kneeled, still wild eyed as she murmured a spell that siphoned blood from Jaques still beating heart into a set of six small glass vials. A small smile remained on her lips, an unexpected peace settling over her at the realization that the hardest part was over.
Another long night had brought Alekto to the fringes of the camp with a restless energy coursing in her veins. She stood near the Veil, staring at its rip until her head began to hurt. Not to mend it, she had certainly spent enough time lately focusing her efforts on that, but to study it. Alekto focused on every detail, probed at its magick sensations and the ways in which her own magick felt in response. There was power here, dripping beyond the surface. If Alekto could learn to harness it, control it…
Alas, that night she was left with nothing but frustrations and exhaustion. She drifted back through the camp while it slumbered, drawn up in glamour simply to avoid unwanted attention. Quiet, peaceful, it was a comforting stroll, in its own way. Alekto took the long way back to her tent, allowing herself to breathe the night air and release some of her pent-up energy through the walk. The tension in her shoulders relaxed slightly and her ever-clenched jaw loosened. The promise of her soft bed and a warming talisman grew ever more enticing.
Then she heard the sputtering and stumbling of a drunkard. Alekto’s attention returned to reality as the man collapsed a short distance ahead of her path. He was too far for her to recognize him, or for her to see the face of the hooded figure which approached, and in another world Alekto would have simply continued on her way. Whatever business the two strangers had, it was not her concern here, so far from the Unseelie encampment. Alekto had bigger worries to deal with at the moment.
Then she sensed blood magick in the air. At once, her magick crooned in her veins in recognition. Alekto shifted, a silencing glamour concealing the sound of her footsteps as she began to approach. The power lingering from the hooded figure was unfamiliar, vague enough that Alekto could not place it with someone she knew. The mystery only intensified her desire to uncover who was behind the hood.
She recognized the clothes first. A smile crept across her features as memories of court brought her the knowledge she sought after. Alekto allowed the glamour over her appearance to drop and pulled the hood of her cloak down. The facade of a lowly squire vanished and she was the Archmage once again, standing tall and proud in her gleaming armor as the dark, suffocating storm of her magick stretched its intensity out through the air, laying its presence thick and heavy in the small section of the encampment in which the other woman and the newly made corpse were.
Alekto merely stood there, a few feet away, watching. Luna certainly had the magickal ability and familiarity to know that the extension of Alekto’s power was enough of a greeting in of itself. Besides, the sorceress was far too invested in examining the siphoning spell before her to wish to interrupt now.
Lightning and Hellfire || Alekto & Balthazar || TFF Event
It was strange, working together and strategizing with fae who were once the enemy. It made paranoia rise to the surface even in the face of impending war. The humans were invading, full-force word had said with numbers and iron and tricks alike. It was no time for petty past grievances or disinclined preferences. All fae were to stand together, defend together, or be overrun.
The plan so far was steadfast and solid except for one thing. The wolf queen and the wolf chieftain would lead the charge forward, both vicious and bloodthirsty in their own rights. Mages to defend and knights to strike, but that didn't account for the back. Humans could be sneaky creatures, strategic and smart, no matter how many times others had tried to convince him of their harmlessness. Even a rabbit could pack a punch when not suspected and this wasn't a circumstance that they could afford such assumptions.
Which was why as they hovered round the map and strategized Balthazar paused. There was a gap left open, left unassumed. One that could backfire painfully if ignored, but capitalized on if correctly managed.
Balthazar leaned back with a wince. There was only one fae that could match him blow for blow power wise, enough to send the humans scattering right into the jaws of the approaching Wolves and knights. Humans tended to be the superstitious sort and a mixture of fire and lightning would be enough to send anyone a'running.
"BONE!" Balthazar yelled as he backed away from the table and strapped his sword tighter to his waist.
Oh how he hated a partnership with the lightning bitch herself but needs must.
"Bone and I will take the back, create chaos and terror. It'll send the humans running right into your swords." he explained quickly, scanning for the unmistakable hair of the lightning bitch herself.
"Get ready to move out, we're taking the rear." Balthazar commanded quickly once he noticed she was in range. "Time to show the humans what real Hell is like."
Alekto glanced down as Black's mutt arrived, examining the wretched thing with neutral acknowledgement and a twinge of disgust, courtesy of the memory of its teeth sinking into her flesh. The thought of the human fools across the battlefield experiencing it firsthand brought a thrill of excitement to her eyes. Like it or not, Black and his hound were formidable adversaries, and would certainly cause unrest among any horses in the enemy's ranks.
"Some humans believe they can eat souls," Alekto hummed, following pace at Black's side. Her hands reached up, bringing the weighted and armored hood of her cloak over her head. Electricity crackled in her eyes when Black's devious little scheme finally clicked. A smile spread across her lips, wide and hungry. For all that she'd restrained herself, all that she'd missed from the battlefield and the ability to unleash her power the way it was intended to be released... it would be a lie to say that she wasn't going to relish every second of terror and pain and death she was about to inflict.
Alekto tilted her head with that same sickly smile, her voice briefly turning into a dissonant, harsh tone as the unnatural tongue of her blood magick spells poured forth, echoing in the wind like a raven's cry. In moments, the sound of thundering hooves and distressed fae sounded in response. "I do so love hearing their pathetic little prayers when they believe an evil deity is in their midst.... I trust this will be equally enjoyable."
Thanatos certainly looked the part as he slowed to a walk alongside Alekto. Towering, surrounded by a shadowy substance that made him seem ghostly and larger than he already was, armored in black steel and blood talismans. His eyes glowed a soft red as Alekto activated the latter, possessing an intelligence beyond any regular horse had any business having as he stared Black down, baring his teeth and pawing at the ground. Alekto reached out through the blood bond, allowing him to feel her calm towards Black and communicating that the roach was an ally for the time being at least. She reached her hand out to him as they walked, stroking his neck gently. "Calm yourself, old friend. You will have your fill of human flesh today."
"As for you, my dear ally..." Alekto turned her attention to Black, fishing out a stray blood talisman and rapidly warping it into a more practical form that could easily fit on the bastard's person without compromising his fighting abilities. It hummed to life as she gently moved a hand over the red gem centered within it, matching the faint glow of a similar talisman located near her collarbone. "I care for my own. Today, that includes you. Put this where you will, it will aid us in communicating with and, more importantly, locating each other in the chaos and bloodshed."
She tossed it at him and grinned. Her magick practically roared in the air before she brought it inward, concealing its presence for the time being. In a single, fluid motion, Thanatos bowed and Alekto swung atop the saddle. She drew her poisoned blade and grasped Thanatos' long mane with her free hand. There were no reins or bridle, nothing that would hinder stallion or rider. The blood coursing in their veins was united enough that there was no need for such things. As they arrived at position, their hearts were practically beating as one.
One moment of silence and Alekto allowed herself a pause. Lightning howled in her veins, contrasting the calm, brief prayer to Lilith she uttered quietly. Human blood would make a fine offering.
Celestials, how she'd missed this.
"Lead the way, darling. Oh, and Black?" Alekto glanced at him, perhaps the closest thing to respect she'd afforded the bastard since the war. "Do try to keep up."
Argos had not expected to return to a battlefield in his lifetime. But, yet again, he packs a rucksack - this time, with no mother to rattle the walls with her disapproval, no father to disappoint - and hauls off to some war camp, his quiver, bow, forearm guards, and light armor strapped on.
He'd not worn it since the treaty, had had to dig it out from a large, oak chest, though his bow was still well-used and still well-loved.
This was fortunate, it seemed, as he was deemed able to train the green buds pouring into the camp. Argos would have protested, but he knew it'd not be listened to, so he did as asked for one of the rare times in his life.
The lads, no more than boys, are lined up, bows and quivers before them, targets beyond. Argos has his own strapped to his left hip, where he can draw from quickly. He demonstrates proper form; those who had experience pick it up quickly, those who do not he fears will die, if it comes down to a fight.
Argos is drawing back his bow, an arrow knocked, when he sees movement from the corner of his eye. He looses with a deep breath inward, hitting the center of the target, before turning.
"That is your marker, gentlemen. See that you go about splitting it in twain or consider yourselves mucking out stalls for the next fortnight. Archmage, what may we do for you?
"I want every mage and apprentice to test their magick against the rift," Alekto commanded. The Magi following behind her quickly bowed their heads. The echoes of yes, Archmage were drowned out by her own voice as she continued: "if anyone's magick is affected, I want it catalogued and explored. No surprises on the battlefield."
She moved briskly through the camp, dispatching orders to the Magi along the way. One by one, the small group following her dispersed to carry out their tasks. They were well-trained enough, though not nearly as battle-sharpened as Alekto would have wished. Even the most seasoned Magi, who had been with her through the first war, still needed to remember their fangs and their wits.
Still, it pleased her to see that even her apprentices adapted quickly. They were talented and powerful, each one of them, and she had made sure to train them with war in mind for this exact reason.
Her mind raced through war strategies, the knowledge she had gained from the rift, and every minute detail of her responsibilities fast enough that her mages had learned to keep up or step aside for someone who could. There was no time to waste, after all.
It would be a lie to say that Alekto wasn't exhilarated at being back on a war front. That she didn't welcome the sound of sharpening blades and training soldiers. Still, she slowed down once the small entourage had been dismissed to carry out their assorted orders. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed, allowing herself a moment to exist as Alekto Bone rather than the Archmage.
A familiar voice brought her back to the present. Alekto's lips twitched back into a small smile at the sight of Argos and the latest band of would-be archers. He was a welcome sight amidst the rush of the camp.
"Lord Caraway," Alekto hummed in response to his greeting, nodding her head in his direction as she moved near him, remaining near a makeshift post delineating the boundaries of the training grounds at enough of a distance to not disturb the shot.
And Celestials, how she relished the unease of the young fae at her sudden presence. The way they shifted and squirmed as she allowed her magick to simmer in the air around her, heavy and dark and powerful.
"I've merely come to observe your work. And the state of our newest soldiers."
“A reprimand, yes, and a decree of some kind,” he says, a flippant hand waving in the air. “But Merring’s son is easily taken care of, if you’ll allow my use of a bow in the woods. A simple hunting accident, and the animals can have him.”
Though Argos had no true, deep love for the animals in the Wildlands, he knew that a poacher would quickly move from animals to his own people. No, he was best left to the Wilds. As for his mother, however –
“His mother is a tittering idiot, just as all the other court women are. As you say, she can be twisted to suit our needs just as well.”
After all, Oberon cared little for traitors. The jester was proof enough.
At Alekto’s comment, a dry chuckle escapes and he grins ever-so-slightly before taking a drink from his glass. “Ah, yes. The famous Archmage and her temper. Tsk, tsk. Perhaps they should learn by now not to make you so angry.” Argos, too, is jesting, but he also knows there is some truth in the statement. When she wanted, Alekto voila be fearsome.
Yet, he still sits here, a hand hovering above her skin, waiting. And he’s rewarded by her leaning back carefully into his hand, enough to be felt but not likely to be mistaken for capitulation.
Alekto Bone did not cede anything, not even in this.
Still, Argos would take what he was given, and gladly. Setting his glass off to the side, he tilts his face, and with raised brow, presses his mouth slowly to the raised skin, kissing up the ridge of her shoulder until his mouth rests next to her ear. His voice is dry when he next speaks, hand cupped loosely around a shoulder blade.
“Ah, yes because I so love hosting balls and simpering, unintelligent women at thr same time,” he drawls, shaking his head. “You must think so lowly of me, darling.”
"I will keep you in mind next time I have a boar in need of skewering," Alekto hummed, smiling. "Though Thanatos does love being able to sink his teeth into something. As do I."
She took a sip from her glass and relaxed back as his ministrations began, propping herself up from the bed with her forearms. "They should. It would spare me the trouble of putting them in their place." Of course, Argos knew as well as she did that she enjoyed it a bit. Though rumors of her ruthlessness were exaggerated, there was a bloodlust within the Archmage. A part that genuinely delighted in the fear and submission, in the violence, in the power of it all.
"As for you," Alekto purred, taking another sip, "if I truly thought that lowly of you I'd have left you on your knees instead of allowing you into my bed."
"I will keep you in mind next time I have a boar in need of skewering," Alekto hummed, smiling. "Though Thanatos does love being able to sink his teeth into something. As do I."
She took a sip from her glass and relaxed back as his ministrations began, propping herself up from the bed with her forearms. "They should. It would spare me the trouble of putting them in their place." Of course, Argos knew as well as she did that she enjoyed it a bit. Though rumors of her ruthlessness were exaggerated, there was a bloodlust within the Archmage. A part that genuinely delighted in the fear and submission, in the violence, in the power of it all.
"As for you," Alekto purred, taking another sip, "if I truly thought that lowly of you I'd have left you on your knees instead of allowing you into my bed."
She gathered her strength from Alekto's words. Her sister had come for her at last. And for the first time in centuries, they would be on the same side. If- no- once, Amity healed they would be limitless. She just had to endure this next part.
"I'm sorry it took me so long." Amity took in a shuddering breath. There was more she wanted to say, but it would wait until they were both safe again. Far from this place. Then she would tell Alekto all of it.
"It was excruciating as if the bonds were made of fire. Then after, they seemed to cool like ice and have stayed that way since." Her teeth did chatter slightly, but Amity had long grown accustomed to the sense of freezing.
She did not ask Alekto if she could get them off. She recognized the look in Alekto's eyes. Alekto would free her or- no, she wouldn't go down that path. It was unspeakable. Alekto would free her and they would face whatever horrors were unleashed together.
"Lucky for you, I'm a beacon of generosity," Alekto hummed through gritted teeth, the veil of humor not reaching her eyes or the electricity that sparked at her fingertips and along her body. She knew what was coming, though she tried to ignore it as best she could while Amity described the shackles.
"Perhaps it's good that I kept my use of blood from Naveen, and that he likely believes you are too soft to truly embrace it." Alekto hummed a quick prayer, moving her hand in a modified Lillithian gesture as she drew forth more blood from the vials along her body and the dried blood upon the wall and floor. She did not stop to think what horrors must have been done for it to end up there. Instead, her focus remained exclusively in animating the spell. The liquid shifted into various hardened spikes, interlacing with the chains in a spiky embrace.
And then Alekto screamed, falling forward and having to catch herself by slamming her hand against the wall beside Amity. Her breath grew ragged as the blood fell towards the ground for a moment before Alekto managed to raise her other hand and regain focus on the spell. Pain seared through her back, every bit as raw and deep as it had been centuries ago. She arched involuntarily against the pain, practically hissing as the sensation dug deeper. Her focus remained only strong enough to hold the spell in place, a feat in of itself with the agony and terror coursing through her body and mind.
"Not again," she snarled, barely audible. "I will not allow him to have his way again."
location: the camp
time: past midnight
closed with @alektobone
Amity felt like she had been put back together, but crudely. As if her bones were jagged pieces forced into place, with irregularities aplenty. Even her magick had a sharper edge, a bite, where it had once felt like the warmth of a candlelight. Her eyes were constantly scanning the horizon never once resting, not even in sleep.
Alekto had offered Ravenwood to her, ensured her of her safety there, warned her that Naveen would be present at the camp, but Amity had made up her mind as soon as she heard the news. She would not be some useless, broken thing to be protected. She could still serve. Even if her hands shook and her palms sweated. So she had donned a glamoured appearance and altered her voice.
She rarely left the tent during the busy hours when people were aplenty and almost never ventured into the social aspects of camp. She preferred to work at night, in the darkness, quietly mending the veil alone or with Alekto or Keir at her side.
It had been a quiet night, the perimeter of camp sparsely populated due to the entertainment offered at the Golden Lute. Amity preferred it this way. Ever since she had escaped Naveen, she had realized she had a low tolerance for others. She was short tempered and easily provoked. There was a near constant hum of anger that seemed to morph into a roar at the slightest invocation and this unnerved her.
She wondered Naveen had succeeded in killing some part of her, if she was to be forever altered now. Her thoughts were prevented from taking a more maudlin turn by the approach of footsteps. Her hand went to her dagger, but she felt Alekto’s presence before she came into view. It was a courtesy on Alekto’s part, she knew, that she had even heard the Archmage approach. Just another concession Alekto had made towards Amity’s frayed nerves.
“Alekto,” Amity called, her hands moving away from her dagger and resuming her work at mending the small tear in the Veil. "I thought you might steal away to the Golden lute. Celestials know you've earned a good draught." Her altered voice broke in odd places, courtesy of the various poisons Naveen had poured down her throat. It pained her to talk, but so many parts of her hurt now that Amity did not pay it much attention.
Alekto felt lighter than she had in years as she moved through the encampment. No, not lighter. That wasn’t the right word. Perhaps more at ease. The sense of purpose and direction and the familiarity of war soothed her restlessness and gave her an outlet she had lacked since the treaty. But then again, she wasn’t more at ease by definition of the fact that she was preparing for war. She rarely left her tent without her armor and weapons. She woke before dawn and often returned well into the night. Most of her time was spent training her Magi for battle and repairing the Veil, and the tension in her body had not disappeared as much as it had shifted.
Alekto Bone was a soldier who had been left without a war since the treaty. Who had been force to mingle with the court and play their games and work as Oberon’s enforcer and torturer while entertaining his childish whims and plugging leaks in his domain. She’d forged her identity on the battlefield and in front line encampments after escaping Byrd. Finally, she had returned to herself.
No, she wasn’t lighter, or more at ease.
Alekto felt more like herself than she had in years as she moved through the encampment. Truth be told, a small part of her was glad for the human threat. Rescuing Amity from Byrd and confronting the insufferable man in the woods on All Hallow’s Eve had made her more on edge. She’d been hungrier for blood, craved more violence. Oberon had delighted in this, of course, as it meant that she had been particularly vicious to those he wished to have tortured.
But as she moved towards a currently secluded part of the Veil’s tear, stretching her magick out long in advance to give Amity time to relax, the parts of her that belonged to the cruel, sadistic Storm Weaver relaxed. She dropped her glamour and allowed the day’s exhaustion to show on her face. Her shoulders dropped and she began slowly rubbing at her neck and shoulders as best she could with her armor on, trying to alleviate some of the gathered tension.
“Keir said the same to me this evening. He seems to worry that I am not allowing myself enough time to rest.” Alekto scoffed, shifting a hand towards a nearby tree. Slowly, the roots stretched up and around themselves, forming a small chair. “I told him I’ll rest when there isn’t an army at our doorstep.”
Alekto studied Amity as she removed her scabbards and dropped her weapons on the floor. It pained her to see and hear how much her sister still hurt from Byrd’s torment, but at least now, she had the peace of knowing Amity was safe. And at her side.
“Besides, you’ve been deprived of my endearing company for over a century.” She smiled while rotating her wrist. Magick wrapped around her body and slipped the top half of her armor off, placing it gently upon the ground beside the makeshift chair. Free of the weight of steel and leather from the waist up, Alekto breathed a sigh of relief and sat down. “It would be cruel to deprive you further.”
Lightning and Hellfire || Alekto & Balthazar || TFF Event
It was strange, working together and strategizing with fae who were once the enemy. It made paranoia rise to the surface even in the face of impending war. The humans were invading, full-force word had said with numbers and iron and tricks alike. It was no time for petty past grievances or disinclined preferences. All fae were to stand together, defend together, or be overrun.
The plan so far was steadfast and solid except for one thing. The wolf queen and the wolf chieftain would lead the charge forward, both vicious and bloodthirsty in their own rights. Mages to defend and knights to strike, but that didn't account for the back. Humans could be sneaky creatures, strategic and smart, no matter how many times others had tried to convince him of their harmlessness. Even a rabbit could pack a punch when not suspected and this wasn't a circumstance that they could afford such assumptions.
Which was why as they hovered round the map and strategized Balthazar paused. There was a gap left open, left unassumed. One that could backfire painfully if ignored, but capitalized on if correctly managed.
Balthazar leaned back with a wince. There was only one fae that could match him blow for blow power wise, enough to send the humans scattering right into the jaws of the approaching Wolves and knights. Humans tended to be the superstitious sort and a mixture of fire and lightning would be enough to send anyone a'running.
"BONE!" Balthazar yelled as he backed away from the table and strapped his sword tighter to his waist.
Oh how he hated a partnership with the lightning bitch herself but needs must.
"Bone and I will take the back, create chaos and terror. It'll send the humans running right into your swords." he explained quickly, scanning for the unmistakable hair of the lightning bitch herself.
"Get ready to move out, we're taking the rear." Balthazar commanded quickly once he noticed she was in range. "Time to show the humans what real Hell is like."
Alekto could smell the battle ahead. Its energy lingered heavy in the air, charged and simmering. She saw its tension across her Magi, who had been directed to their posts and given strict orders to repair the veil and ensure that any human who came too close spent their last moments suffering a terrible death. She saw it in the Seelie who would now stand at her side where once they would have been the enemy. She felt it in herself just as much as she smelt it in the air.
Lightning, rain. A coming storm.
Her place was at the rear. That much was never once doubted once battle orders were given. Alekto’s specialty was mass destruction and terror. Though she certainly could have served as an asset wielding her power to repair the Veil, she worked best surrounded by blood and ripping screams from the enemy’s lungs.
She had taken stock of the war map and had since moved to prepare her mages and ready herself for the coming battle, activating the various talismans hidden within her armor. A deep crimson glow emanated from between and beneath the pieces of steel and leather, mixing the smell of blood into the heavy darkness and electricity of her magick. It lingered heavy in the air, unrestrained, roaring for violence and victory. Some of the talismans remained empty, modified to seek after human blood and rip it out in order to fuel her attacks. Others housed various spells, defenses and reserves.
Black’s voice caught her attention right as her magick reached deep into the steel of her breastplate, drawing up the metal to protect her neck as much as possible without restraining her movement too much. A surprise to be sure, but the look in his eyes told her enough.
Alekto moved swiftly, tying back the front of her hair to keep it from her eyes. Against the part of her that reviled the man, a small smile spread across her lips as she listened to Black’s plan. Hell was precisely what awaited anyone and anything on the receiving end of her and Black’s combined power.
Balthazar was a mad dog. A flaming roach that Alekto would have been still quite willing to put into the ground were it not for the current circumstances. But she was not so proud and hateful as to ignore the fact that out of everyone, he was the best suited to fight at her side. Alekto watched with barely concealed amusement as one of the commanders gathered around the table muttered something about making sure to stay the fuck away from the two of them when the fighting began.
“Any human that doesn’t run will be reduced to ashes,” she hummed with something that was almost akin to begrudging admiration for the roach’s forward thinking. Almost. “We cast a wide assault, herd them towards your swords like sheep to the slaughter. They’ll think the land and the heavens themselves are being brought down upon them.”
And they wouldn’t be too far from the truth. Alekto’s mind already raced through potential iterations of the battle, formulating different strategies with Black’s power and might in mind. Fire was such a lovely tool to work with.
“My swords, my sorcery and my storm are at your side, Black. Lead the way.”
It itched a little as it healed, but Amity knew it was a small price to pay. But the wondrous thing was the way Alekto's magick covered the room, protecting her, shielding her from all the horrors if only for a moment. And wasn't that what Alekto had done for all those years? How she had borne the brunt of Naveen's anger so Amity could bask in his adoration?
He wants me here.
"Then you know it would be wisest for you to run," Amity rasped, tears still flowing freely. "But you've never been the wisest in the room. The cleverest, maybe, and the most powerful certainly." Amity wondered if she would have been brave enough to re-enter such torment for another, but she only wondered for a moment. Of course, she would have come for Alekto, just as Alekto had come for her. It was what they had done for centuries. Sometimes it manifested in the way they pulled their punches. Sometimes it had just been palpable in the room between them. But it had always been there.
"It'll be the last time, Alekto." Amity swore in High Fae. "We will see him again, but only one more time. And then we'll be free."
"And we'll face whatever comes next together." They were brave words for a broken woman who shook so terribly, but Amity meant them with whatever her soul had left. Alekto had always made her braver.
"I will not run from Naveen Byrd." Alekto's tone was icy, dripping with venom and disdain for the man who had caused both of them such anguish. "Not again. And certainly not without you." She knew that now. No matter how powerful she got, how much knowledge and magick and terror she wielded, Byrd would haunt her as long as he drew breath. He would haunt both of them.
Besides, Alekto craved blood.
"Maraigh an nathair agus beidh muid saor." Kill the snake, and we will have our freedom.
Amity's oath caused the healing spell to falter, if only for a second before Alekto's focus snapped back to her work. In her rattled state, it took everything in Alekto to contain herself to merely having her breath catch. "That was all I ever wanted to hear from you for over a century." Finally, Amity saw her. Saw Naveen for what he truly was. Alekto only wished there had not been such a heavy price to pay for having her sister see things from her perspective.
It was enough to quell the part of Alekto's brain that screamed at her to get the fuck out. To focus on restoring as much of Amity's ability to move and sustain herself as possible in order to make their escape easier, even as she felt a chill down her spine and a familiar heat down her back.
"I recognize the chains," she hummed, studying them as the healing spell ceased. There was a new urgency in her voice, which wavered ever so slightly as she felt the heat increase. "But I do not know if he has altered them since he used them on me. What happened when he put them on you?"
