this blog is gonna be on hiatus for a while, in case you couldnt already tell... im sorry!!!! i just havent really enjoyed writing recently nor have i had any inspiration to write in a while. at this point it all feels like such a hassle and more of a chore than a hobby i enjoy so... for now we are putting this on the back burner.
Why don't you finish your book never fade away? It has been a long time. Don't replace Jerome with Jeremiah. Many authors do that and that sucks.
1. i hate jeremiah so that would never happen
2. honestly i just fell out of inspiration w that story. i have no idea where to take it anymore and i stopped watching gotham long before it ended... if i ever got back into the show im sure i’d come up with something but honestly i just don’t care to work on something i no longer have passion for
(oh, finally it’s here bitch! u want some sadness?)
The next morning came and went smoothly, Genevieve continuing her typical routine of breakfast, walking Bambi and Tex, and then going to the gym to work out a bit and to keep her volleyball skills up to par. When she finally returned home it was already late afternoon, so she showered and made herself some lunch. Her aunts were off at their magic academy, and Ambrose and Sabrina were still out hunting for Herod's crown, so Genevieve had the large Spellman house all to herself. After finishing her lunch and cleaning the dishes, she went to curl up on a couch in the family room to watch some TV before night fell and her family came home. About an hour into watching reruns of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Ambrose burst through the front door in a hurry. "You being chased?" she called.
"No time to talk, cousin," he yelled back down, rushing down the stairs to the basement, "I've got something very important to study!"
:Have fun," she responded, voice softened. She pointed her attention to Tex, who was seated at the end of the couch where she was relaxing. "Y'ever wish you were a witch, Tex?" Genevieve said to him. "'Cause I'd love to know what's going on right now."
A few minutes later, Sabrina came in, seemingly worn out from trying to keep up with Ambrose. "Hey," she said, "You wanna come with us to the carnival? We're leaving in a few minutes."
Geneveive's mouth opened but nothing came out; she wasn't sure what to say in the moment. "Ah-" she started, nervous. "About that… I think I'm going on a date with your friend."
Sabrina's brows furrowed and she smiled a little, confused. "My… friend? Which friend?"
Genevieve struggled again to find the perfect answer. "Mmh.. Uh.. Y- You know the one," she responded, vaguely.
"Wh- Caliban?!" she yelled in awe, eyes widened once she realized to whom her cousin was referring. "The one who's trying to take my throne?!"
"Don't yell at me like that!" she defended herself, "He kept pestering me and bothering me and I wanted him to go away so I said yes!" Genevieve shouted back.
"Why the Heaven was he so intent on it?"
"Beans, if I knew, I'd make it stop!" Sabrina sighed in defeat, setting down her purse and kicking off her shoes before joining her cousin on the couch.
"Well, maybe it won't be the worst thing in the world. I mean, me and Nick and everyone else are gonna be there, so at least you won't be alone. Plus, I know he won't be looking for the crown if he's with you."
"I guess," Genevieve conceded, shrugging. "I just wanted him to get off my case. It's one date, okay? Just the one. I'm sure I can scare him off by the end of the night."
"Aw," Sabrina laughed, "Don't say that! You're a catch, ‘Vieve. Of course he wants to go on a date."
"Are you encouraging this?" They both giggled. "Nah, it'll be fine. It's no big deal."
—
Sabrina was already dressed and prepared to go out, so she waited in Genevieve's room while she changed into something other than her pajama pants and a large sweatshirt. "I can't believe you're going on a date with Caliban," Sabrina repeated, exasperated.
"Ew, gross, don't say it like that," Genevieve called from the bathroom where she was changing and deciding whether or not she would wear any makeup. "You make it sound like a big thing."
"Sorry." Genevieve stepped out of the bathroom, with just a layer or two of mascara, some concealer, and a bit of blush on her cheeks and nose. She had also changed into a white dress with small navy polka dots and a washed out jean jacket. "So did he say if he would pick you up?"
"Um, you know what? I have actually no idea," she admitted, sitting down on the edge of her bed and putting on a pair of socks. "I guess we're meeting there. I don't know."
"Okay. Well, Nick and I are gonna meet up with everyone soon, if you want to come with."
"Oh, I'll be fine. But thanks, Beans. I'm gonna let Bambi out for a few minutes and feed everyone," Genevieve decided.
"Alright," Sabrina said, getting up and leaving her cousin's room. "Well, we'll keep an eye out for you."
"Thanks. See ya soon."
—
Thankfully, it was not one of the nights she needed to feed Rhiannon, because Genevieve was not particularly in the mood to have to throw a live mouse into the ball python's tank. For Tucker, she went to the kitchen and grabbed a handful of blackberries, romaine lettuce, and snap peas, threw them on an old plastic plate and set it in his tank for him to munch on as he saw fit. She changed Pico's water and put a few chopped up grapes and strawberries in a small dish in his cage. She called for Bambi to follow her downstairs and let the dog outside while she put food in her bowl and got her fresh water. When Bambi barked at the door to be let in, Genevieve was startled to find Caliban standing there as well. "Oh. Hi, Caliban."
"You look a little surprised to see me," he observed.
"Well, you did show up sort of unannounced," she told him, letting Bambi inside and allowing him in, as well. "I thought you'd just find me at the carnival."
"Sweetheart, I may be a demon," he smirked, "But I'm not completely without my manners. It would be disrespectful of me if I didn't escort you."
"Oh, respect?" she wondered, setting Bambi's bowls down on the floor and going to wash her hands. "I didn't know that was something you were worried about." There was a hint of mock doubt in her tone. He smiled a bit more genuinely at this.
"There are a great many things you don't know about me, Genevieve."
"Well, then that makes two of us." Once she had slipped on a pair of shoes and made sure that she had a handful of cash in her pocket, she turned to face him directly and actually give him her attention. "We're stopping to get coffee first, because I'm about to fall asleep."
"Whatever the lady desires," he agreed. They both left the Spellman house, Genevieve yelling a goodbye to her cousin before shutting the door behind them.
—
"Can demons have coffee?" she asked as they stepped inside the small cafe.
"We can have anything we wish," he told her, "But I can't say I've ever tried the drink before."
"That's tragic. Do you want some? I'll pay."
"There's no need to spend your money on me. I'm made of clay, I'll be alright."
"Wow," she said in mock wonder. "Do you have any other personality traits?" He smirked (which seemed to be his default at this point), and Genevieve rolled her eyes. She turned and gave her order to the barista, handing over a few of the singles from her pocket and going to wait at the other end of the counter for her drink. When Caliban wasn't right behind her like she was expecting him to be, she turned back and saw him ordering as well. He pulled out a wad of cash from his back pocket and her jaw almost dropped as he turned and gave her a knowing wink. "You did not just,' she muttered, clenching her teeth and lowering her voice to more of a whisper, "make that money!"
"And what if I did?" he asked, enjoying seeing her get riled up.
"That's terrible!" she chastised. "That's like… cheating."
He gasped. "Have I done a bad thing?" She narrowed her eyes at him.
"You may not care about doing bad things, but I do."
"As you wish," he conceded. Once their drinks were ready, they headed out onto the street and in the direction of the carnival at the edge of town near the forest.
—
Once they made it to the entrance of the carnival, Genevieve was on high alert for any sign of her cousin or her friends. "So, Genevieve Sawyer," Caliban started, "How did a mortal like you come to end up living with the Spellmans?"
"Well that's kind of personal," she told him, refusing eye contact. "My dad and Sabrina's mom were siblings. They took me in when…"
"When what?" he asked, voice soft and genuine.
"Um, my dad… died, and I would have been put into foster care. But Hilda and Zelda offered to become my guardians instead."
"Well what about your mother?" he asked. He had a feeling he may have been crossing a line, but he decided to ask anyway.
"Let's not talk about it," Genevieve shot it down.
"I apologize if I've upset you," he offered. He seemed like he meant it.
"It's fine. You didn't know. I just… don't like to talk about it," she explained. She quickly changed the subject. "How's the coffee? Are you a fan now?"
He chuckled, taking a sip. "I'll admit it's not bad," he said, looking down at her, "But I'm still partial to the blood of the damned."
Her eyes widened and she grimaced. "Ew!"
He laughed at her expression. "I'm only joking, darling," he reassured, still smiling. She scoffed and nudged him with her elbow.
"Not funny, you punk.” She took another sip of her own drink before continuing. "You don't really— "
"Of course not!" he exclaimed. "Must you always think the worst of me?"
She smiled playfully. "Well you don't give me much of a choice," she teased. The sun was beginning to set and the lights of the carnival became more vibrant as time went on. In the crowd of people, she spotted Sabrina's white-blonde head walking beside Nick. "Oh, look!" she pointed out to Caliban. Speeding up to them, Genevieve poked her cousin in the back, startling her.
"Oh! Hey, Geneieve!" she greeted. "Caliban."
"Your highness," he replied, bowing. Genevieve noticed a growing tension between him and Nick, and before things got out of hand, she interrupted.
"'Sup, Nick?"
"Hey, Genevieve. How's it going?"
"Pretty good, I guess. How ya feeling?" she asked him, silently praying she wasn't stirring the pot.
"Better, actually. Thanks to Sabrina." They smiled at one another as he put his arm around her shoulder.
Genevieve didn't notice, but Sabrina did. When Nick wrapped his arm around her and made a lovey-dovey expression, Caliban looked longingly down at Genevieve.
"Where's everyone else?" the older cousin wondered.
Sabrina looked around. "Uh, Harvey and Roz are walking around somewhere. Theo and Robin are on the ferris wheel."
"Who's Robin?"
"New boy. They really hit it off."
"Aw," Genevieve gushed, "I'm so happy for Theo! Good for both of them." She finished the last few sips of her coffee. "Where are we headed?"
"Carousel?" Sabrina offered.
"Yeah, I'm down. You wanna go?" she asked Caliban.
"I'll go wherever you decide," he answered.
She let out a small scoff. "How very noble."
—
Something was off at the end of the carousel ride and Genevieve had no idea what it was. Caliban's entire demeanor had changed and when the ride ended, She decided to give Sabrina and Nick some space while she tried to figure out what Caliban was up to. She gently grabbed her cousin's arm. "Hey, we'll meet up with you guys in a minute," she muttered. Sabrina nodded in understanding. Once they were on their own again, she turned to Caliban. "Okay. What's up?" she interrogated. He was glancing around all over the carnival grounds, barely looking at her. She snapped her fingers in his face, gaining his attention. "Hello? What is going on?"
"Something's not right," he responded cryptically. "Someone's here who shouldn't be here."
"What does that mean?"
"It means it's not safe for a mortal to be here for much longer. You should go home."
She glared up at him, eyes narrowing. "Oh, you think you can just boss me around, now? What's your deal, dude?" Instead of giving a snide remark, he grabbed her face in both hands and looked her dead in the eyes.
"Genevieve. I'm not joking. Or lying. You really need to leave."
"No!" she shouted. "You don't get to tell me what to do, you spoiled little jerk! I came to this stupid carnival to have fun with my friends. You're not ruining this for me." She sighed out an angry breath and shook her face out of his hands, stepping back. "What is your issue? First you pester me until I agree to give you the time of day, and then all of a sudden you want me gone?"
"I don't want you gone. I want you safe, believe it or not. You're upset with me now but you'll understand later. There's really no time to explain, sweetheart." He tried to grab her hand, his face sincerely apologetic, but she pulled away with a disgusted look on her face.
"No. Don't touch me." She paused as if to say something else, but decided against it; turning away from him abruptly and storming off into the crowd.
"Genevieve," he called. "Genevieve!" But rather than turn around, she flipped him off and kept walking.
—
Genevieve had gotten halfway home before Herod's zombie showed up and attacked Nick and Sabrina. She was too far away to hear the yells from the carnival grounds, instead caught up in her own thoughts and grievances. Stupid piece of shit, she thought. I can't believe I let myself get played like that. Who does he think he is? 'Go home, Genevieve'-- Man, fuck off!
Meanwhile, her cousin and her cousin's boyfriend were fighting for their lives from an undead evil ancient king. They tag-teamed spelling him and beating him up with whatever they could get their hands on, but they were fighting a losing battle. Sabrina was thrown to the ground, and suddenly looked up to see the boy her cousin was currently pissed off at. "Caliban! Help me!"
"Beautiful as you are, I am tempted," he sneered. "No. I think not." His face dropped.
"What about Genevieve?" Sabrina yelled at him.
"I've taken care of her. This crown is my priority." And without another word, he transported himself back to Hell.
—
After Nick went back to the Academy, Sabrina strolled right into Pandemonium and up to the bastard who had played her cousin and cheated in their quest. He was smug, wearing the crown and strutting like he actually ruled the place. "What does my lady think?" he asked. "It's just temporary until I win the infernal crown, of course." Before he could get another word in, Sabrina smacked him.
"We could have died!" she shouted. "Why didn't you help us?"
"Help you?" he repeated. "This is a competition. I was watching you. Closely. When I didn't have my eyes on that cousin of yours— "
"If you were watching me, did you know King Herod was coming for his crown?" Sabrina asked, ignoring his backhanded comment about Genevieve.
"My lady, everyone knows King Herod is a guardian. I assumed you would kill him. … Or he would kill you." He swiped some droplets of blood from her tip. "Or perhaps, you would kill each other. A true monarch knows strategy." He then spoke up loud enough for the whole throne room to hear. "Now, you didn't answer my question! The crown suits me, don't you agree?" Sabrina right-hooked him so hard that the crown came flying off of his head.
"The first round's yours. Enjoy it. It's the last one you'll win." He was desperately trying not to lose his pride. "And I swear, I'll slice your throat ear to ear before I let you have my throne." She seemed as if she was done, but decided to add one more thing. "And if you ever come near Genevieve again, I won't have to. Because she will."
—
After Sabrina had showered the blood and grime off of herself, she threw on her p.j.'s and headed to her cousin's room. Genevieve was laying on her pillow pile in a corner of her room, cuddled up with a blanket and Tex laying on her chest. Bambi was snuggled up against her side. She had traded in her dress and jacket for sweatpants and an old t-shirt; she rubbed her makeup off half-heartedly and tied up her hair on him of her head. "Hey, Vieve," Sabrina greeted softly, slowly entering her room.
"Hi," she muttered. "Your stupid friend is a piece of shit."
"He's not my friend. And I know he is. He cheated on the challenge tonight. Left me and Nick pretty much for dead just to get that stupid crown."
"I wanna punch him."
"Don't worry. I did. Twice," she winked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Let me get a few hits in next time."
"They're all yours." Sabrina then knelt to the ground and laid down on her cousin's free side, putting her chin on Genevieve's shoulder. "You gonna be okay?"
"I'm so mad at myself. I can't believe I let some piece-of-trash, lying, cheating, dirtbag play me." Sabrina said nothing, just rubbing her cousin's arm in an act of comfort. "If I ever see him again I'll hurt him."
"I know," Sabrina muttered. "You have every right to."
—
While the rest of the Spellman household was preparing for the Hare Moon, Genevieve spent the day curled up in bed, cuddling with her cat and dog and reading books. At some point in the late, late afternoon, a familiar woosh of heat interrupted her lazy day. "How dare you," she began, setting her book down and picking up Tex, holding him close to her chest. "How fucking dare you show up to my house like you're wanted here." She stood up and walked closer to him, while he backed away from her rage-filled frame. "You complete jackass. You are such a piece of shit. You almost get my cousin killed? And you don't do a damn thing to stop it? You- what, you try to get on my good side, and seem so inconspicuous, just so you can spy on my family and cheat on that stupid fucking contest? And then you show up in my room the next day like this?!" She was shouting now. "Don't you even think of saying a God-damned word to me, Caliban! You skeevy little dirtbag!" She set Tex down on her bed so that her hands were free. "Get out of my room, get out of my house, get out of my life!" Genevieve threw her fists at him, hitting anywhere a punch would land. His chest, his arms, his face; she was going blind with rage. She continued moving toward him in her assault until he was backed up against her wall. The punches kept coming.
"Genevieve, stop!" He shouted, trying to push her off of him. "Let me apologize— "
"NO!" she screamed. "Don't order me what to do! You don't get to apologize to me! This is beyond apologies! I don't give a fuck what you say to me, nothing will ever, ever cover this!"
"I know!" He screamed back. Her punches slowly stopped. "I know. Nothing I say will fix anything I've done."
"Then why are you here?!"
"No apology will ever be fit for you, but please, please let me say my piece anyway." She said nothing, so he continued. "I am, truly, genuinely sorry for betraying your trust. And I am sorry I left your cousin defenseless last night. There is no explanation I could give that you would see fit to accept. I will spare you the details of the reasons behind my actions. But please, Genevieve, please know that I never wished to cause you any pain. From the moment I met you, I never wanted to harm you. Knowing I have done so is the heaviest burden I will ever carry."
"Are you done waxing poetic now?" she asked, arms crossed, face void of emotion. He nodded slightly. "Good. Get out of my house."
"Gen— "
She cut him off. "You have done enough, Caliban! Leave!" He looked at her longingly, with the saddest eyes she had ever seen, and conceded.
"As you wish." He threw his arms up and was once again enveloped in a spiral of hellfire. When it dissipated, he was gone. In his place was a large, bright yellow sunflower. She picked it up apprehensively. Genevieve wanted desperately to throw it in the trash, or to stomp on it, or to shred it with a pair of scissors; in the end, she placed it gently on her desk and went back to bed, throwing the covers over her head and silently crying.
When Sabrina was 8 years old, her life got a little more unusual. Being a half witch raised by her two aunts and cousin (all full-blooded witches) in a mortuary was not a common experience for most children. But things became different when another cousin, from her mother's side of the family, came to live in the Spellman house. Her mother, Diana, had a brother, William; WIlliam married and had a daughter just two years before Sabrina was born. She was named Genevieve Sawyer, and she and her paternal cousin had been very close to one another their entire lives. When it was heard that William had been shot and that Genevieve's mother was not fit to parent, the girl's cousin and family immediately stepped up to take her in and be her legal guardians.
Despite Genevieve's unfortunate circumstances, she never lost her bright personality or kindness. She seemed to stick out like a sore thumb in the Spellman house from time to time, but it was a welcome change of pace for everyone who lived there. For the next eight years after she had gone to live with her cousins and aunts, she had grown into a compassionate, driven young lady. Growing with her were several pets she had acquired over the years. Genevieve had a special love for animals and so had adopted many. She had a spotted turtle named Tucker, whom she had rescued from getting run over by a truck one morning. She also had an orange tabby cat named Tex, a green budgie named Pico, and a blue pit bull terrier named Bambi. The latest addition to the family was an albino ball python, whom she was currently in the process of naming.
"Genevieve. I mean it this time," scolded her aunt Zelda. "No more pets. You have barely enough space for them all, and I won't allow any more of this."
"No more, aunt Zelda. I got it. This guy is the last," she affirmed, gesturing with the snake which was slithering over her shoulders and down her left arm. Her aunt shuddered.
"How you can allow that thing near you is beyond me."
"She's sweet!" she defended. "She's just curious."
"She stays in your room only. If I see a snake slithering about my house I won't hesitate to kill it."
"She won't go anywhere. Promise."
Once her aunt had finished scolding her and left her room, she turned her attention back to her new friend. "What do we call you, huh?" Genevieve said. She set the snake down on her bed and flipped on her record player against the wall to fill the silence, and an old Fleetwood Mac album started spinning. "Well," she said, "I have to take Bambi and Tex on a walk, so I guess we should put you in your tank, huh?" She moved the young albino to the mostly empty tank and placed the lid over it, promising, "I'll get you some decorations while I'm out." Then she put on a pair of socks, laced up her shoes, and grabbed two harnesses and leashes from the footboard of her bed, heading downstairs to find the only two of her pets that were mammals. "Morning, aunt Hilda," she greeted the small blonde woman.
"Oh, g'morning my love! Are you taking Tex and Bambi on a walk?"
"Yeah, once I find 'em."
"Well you'll eat first, won't you?" She pointed to the table. "Some toast for you."
"You're the best," Genevieve said, sitting down to take a bite of it. The toast was covered with peanut butter and sliced bananas; simple, but a favorite of the girl's. She finished eating quickly and was off again in search of her cat and dog, finding them in the family room. Tex was lounging on the couch and Bambi had seemingly been banished by him, staring at the tabby from the ground. "You wanna go on a walk?" she said to them both, her voice increasing by about an octave. Bambi's ears perked up and her eyes widened; Tex hopped down from the couch and over to circle Genevieve's legs. "Hey auntie," she called into the kitchen, "Do you know where Beans went?"
"Yes," her aunt called back, "I believe she went to go see Harvey, Roz, and Theo?"
"Okay. Thank you!" She then strapped both of the harnesses onto Tex and Bambi and put them on their leashes, and then made their way outside to their usual walking route. About halfway through their walk she and her two companions made a detour to go to Harvey's garage, where Genevieve had guessed their band would be practicing and where her cousin had gone to find them. Heading around behind his house, she found the garage door unlocked and entered in to find the four of them seemingly discussing something important.
"'Vieve," Sabrina greeted as soon as she saw her cousin. "What's up?"
"I was walking Tex and Bambi," she responded, holding up the two leashes attached to both animals. "What's up with you?"
"Sabrina's trying to take us to Hell," Theo told her.
Genevieve's eyebrows raised and she went to take a seat on the couch closest to her. "Why?" she asked Sabrina.
"Nick." She said his name sadly; she knew her cousin missed him a lot and felt guiltier every day she left him trapped there. "I think I found a way to get him out."
"But, like… He's still…" Genevieve trailed off, not knowing how to formulate her thoughts exactly.
"Yes," she responded, knowing what the girl was getting at. "A flesh Acheron. But I might have a solution for that too."
—
Sabrina had brought the five of them through Dorian's portal to Hell with an incantation, where they landed on a cold, dark beach, coughing up the salt water that had gotten into their lungs. "Wait, so… Hell is a beach?" Harvey asked.
"The Shores of Sorrow," Sabrina whispered hauntingly.
Theo stood up and pointed out at the water. "Guys. Look. What are those?" There were tall wooden structures standing above the waves, and from them came pained groans and wails. Hands were reaching out, desperate to grab whatever would come close to them.
"They're the souls of the damned," called a deep, unfamiliar voice. The group turned their heads to look for the source, and saw a large sandcastle and someone walking out from behind it. He had blond hair and was wearing a flowing white shirt that he had left unbuttoned. "They drown as the tide rolls in. Over, and over," he said, looking out at them, "For all eternity."
"Bummer," Genevieve whispered to Roz.
"Hi," Sabrina greeted him as the group approached him. "We're looking for Lilith." He didn't respond. "Uh, Madame Satan? S-Queen of Hell?" The boy looked pointedly at her, on the verge of a smirk. "She's in Pandemonium, if you happen to know the way." He turned his head and pointed left. Sharp jaw, Genevieve thought.
"All blood flows to Pandemonium." Sure enough, there was a large rock through which blood was flowing, that seemed to turn into a path further up the beach. "Follow the blood-red road where it flows, and there you'll find the throne of Hell," he instructed, still pointing.
"Thanks," Sabrina said. He pushed his hair back from the wind blowing on the beach, smirk still present. What does he know that we don't? her cousin wondered. "And you are?"
He seemed as if he were about to respond, but decided against it. "Never step off the road," he advised. He looked at their feet then. "It's clever you're wearing dead men's shoes. Though… any demon worth his salt can smell mortal flesh a mile away."
Genevieve's brows furrowed. "Ew." The boy glanced at her and then turned back to his project.
"Come on," Sabrina said, "Let's go."
The four trailed behind her, but Genevieve stayed still for a moment. "Hey! I like your sandcastle," she called to the boy. He looked back at her, intrigued. "Bye!" she waved. He lifted a hand in return, and she was on her way.
—
The journey through hell had been… adventurous, to say the least. Between the field of crucified people beating eaten by crows, to the forest with a magical flower and a bloodthirsty tin man, to a horrific mock-high school classroom, Genevieve and the others were exhausted, scared, and ready to go back to earth. After being rescued by Lilith's helper, a man dressed in a bellhop's outfit and being seated at some hellish feast, she and Sabrina began a conversation about getting Nick out of Hell and taking care of Theo's uncle's soul as well. The Infernal Kings weren't recognizing Lilith's newfound authority, so she struck a deal with Sabrina- the throne for her boyfriend and her friend's uncle. Sabrina, of course, agreed, and the process had begun.
—
"Infernal court, I bid you welcome," Lilith greeted from the throne. The three demonic kings stood before her in wait. "The city of Pandemonium has an honored guest. May I present to the hordes, Sabrina Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer Morningstar." Sabrina walked to stand next to the woman and looked around the throne room. "In his absence, she has come to officially declare me Queen of Hell. Isn't that right, Sabrina?"
"Yes, that's right," she told them.
"This is treason! Heresy!" the Kings protested. "Lilith is a concubine, not a queen. We do not recognize her. She was Lucifer's whore. The realms are in chaos, and the Earth, the Pit, the Heavens, the Cosmos, they all reject Lilith's claim to the throne."
"And who do you propose would rule?" she shot back.
That was the million dollar question, it seemed, because the Kings got a nefarious look in their eyes. "All hail Caliban, Prince of Hell. Molded from the clay of the Pit itself, native son of the inferno, born to restore and rule our dark domain!"
"Hello again," said the supposed Prince Caliban, in yet another open top. He maintained the smug look on his face that he was wearing at their last encounter.
"Uh, hi?" Sabrina said, mildly confused.
"What is this?" Lilith questioned.
"This is salvation," he told her. "Since the Dark Lord's desertion, the Nine Circles of Hell have been breaking down. I, Caliban, will restore stability and do what Lucifer failed to do… conquer the earth. Remake it as our Tenth Circle, and enslave the tribes of mortal and witch."
Before anyone else could get a word in edgewise, Genevieve spoke up. "No? You most certainly will not!" she said. He raised his eyebrows at her. "Dude. You're… you're not even a real person." Her brow furrowed. "Someone gets one good blast with a hairdryer and what happens? You dry up and crack?"
"I'm afraid that's not how it works, darling." He stepped closer. "Though you are clever for that." Yet another smirk. Smug bastard. Closer. And closer.
She glared at him. "Thanks," she deadpanned.
"You are pretty, for a mortal," he said to her. "Maybe I'll have mercy on you." He lifted a hand to beside her face and toyed with a strand of hair that had fallen out of her braid.
"Don't touch me." She slapped his hand away, and he stepped back.
Sabrina and Lilith had been whispering to each other from the moment that Caliban revealed his plan. But now, she was seemingly comatic; her eyes and Nick's were both glazed over in red and they were both catatonic. But when her senses came back and her eyes returned to normal, she had adopted a newfound confidence. "No, we won't," she said to Lilith. "I am Sabrina Morningstar," she announced to the hordes, "And that throne is mine. By blood, and by birth."
"Here we go again," Harvey muttered. Genevieve chuckled.
"Yours to give me, you mean," Lilith interjected.
"No. Mine. To claim." She sat on the throne herself, and her cousin had to admit that she looked rather regal.
"We do not accept this!" the Kings argued. "The witch lives on Earth. She cannot possibly rule Hell."
"You've obviously never been to high school."
"You are a child, not a queen," another King shot.
"I am a young woman." Right on, her cousin thought.
"You cannot fulfill your father's duties."
"I can," she insisted, looking at Lilith. "With Lilith as my advisor."
"What?"
"Isn't that what kings and queens do when they're too young to rule?" she argued. "They appoint a…"
"Regent," Lilith offered. "Yes. As a matter of fact, yes."
"Then you, Lilith, are my regent."
"I dispute this." Caliban, of course.
"Okay, Dirt-Man," Genevieve said. She had begun to harbor a deeply personal sense of loathing for him, especially because of how he disrespected her cousin's authority and was a raging narcissist.
After an attempted challenge for the crown, Sabrina dismissed the court and he and his clique left Pandemonium. She and the rest of the group, along with Nick and his tongue, followed Dorian's instructions and used the flower and the incantation to return home.
—
Sabrina had royally fucked up— no pun intended. After fumbling her first soul retrieval and getting locked in an industrial freezer by her second, she was beginning to lose hope. And she was running out of time. While Lilith was out searching for the wayward queen, the clay prince decided to go on his own adventure.
—
Genevieve was occupied in her cozy, bright room when a gust of spiraling flames interrupted her peace. She had been lying in her bed, reading a book and accompanied by all of her pets (which was a rare occurrence). Pico had nestled onto Tuck's shell and they were both napping. Bambi was curled up against her side and Tex at her feet, and the new snake— whose name, she decided, was Rhiannon— was also curled at the end of the bed. "Quite the companions you've got," he spoke deeply, disturbing the silence.
"You!" she said, sitting up and starting all but the python. "What are you doing in my room?" she asked, exasperated.
"Here to see you, of course," he told her, sitting down on the edge of her bed. Genevieve
was still perplexed.
"...Why?"
"You amuse me, mortal. And you've caught my eye. Your friend may be the Queen of Hell—"
"Cousin," she corrected.
"Your cousin may be Queen, but it's you who's really captured my attention."
"I… Okay," she responded, brows furrowed.
"No one's ever spoken to me as boldly as you have. Especially for a mortal. If I wanted to punish you, in fact, it would be well within my rights. Even your cousin could not do anything about it; laws in Hell differ than on Earth."
"So, what. You're here to kill me? Because I threatened your ego?" Genevieve rolled her eyes and got up, Bambi following after her. She grabbed Rhiannon and carried her over to her tank, flipping the switch for her heater and closing the lid. She then grabbed Tuck, as gently as possible to allow him to keep napping, and put him in his tank as well.
"Of course not," he chuckled. "You're much too interesting. It would be a shame for your potential to go to waste."
"Potential," she said, disinterested. Walking to her door, she slipped on a pair of shoes that sat against the wall. "For?"
"For you to align with me. You may not like me much now, but I'm sure you'll grow to."
"For me… I'm sorry, what? You expect me to betray my cousin for someone who wants to literally enslave my people and take over the Earth?" He said nothing. "No!" she waved her hand at him, signaling for him to leave. "Be gone. Or... whatever you say to banish demons." She left her room and headed down the hallway and to the stairs, but Caliban was not far behind. Neither was Bambi.
She made a pit stop in the kitchen to make herself a sandwich before she left the house. "Do you think me unreasonable?" Caliban asked, leaning against the counter while she worked.
"Well, yeah. Actually I do."
He grabbed her hand before she could continue. Making sure to never break eye contact, he pleaded, "Please. Let me prove you wrong." She pulled her hand away.
"Why are you so dead set on this?" she groaned. "I said no!" A frustrated laugh left her lips.
"I'll make you a deal," he pressed. She returned her attention to her sandwich and refused to look at him. "Submit to me, and I will abandon my plan to enslave the tribes of Earth." Still, silence. Genevieve pretended that he wasn't even there anymore, slipping Bambi a piece of turkey in between the two of them. Once again, Caliban brought his hand up and grabbed her chin; she couldn't turn away.
"You won't get the chance," she spat. "My cousin is the Queen. Your plan will never happen." He opened his mouth to argue, but in a split second, decided against it.
"If that's truly how you feel, then I concede. But know my offer still stands." Genevieve shrugged, straight-faced, unsure how to respond.
"Will you leave now? I have somewhere to be," she told him, putting her sandwich in a baggie and walking to the kitchen table where a backpack was hanging off the back of a chair.
"Will the lady allow me to escort her?" he countered. She threw her food, a water bottle, and a sports drink into the bag as she considered it.
"Fine, I guess." She slung the backpack over her shoulder before kneeling down to scratch and kiss Bambi's head. "Bye, Bambi!" she said, her voice having gone up at least an octave. The blue pit thumped her tail and opened her mouth in a typical pit bull smile. Without a word, she stood up and passed Caliban to go retrieve her sneakers which were sitting by the front door. He followed, attentive to her every move. She locked the door behind her on her way out and began walking into town.
"Where are you headed to?" he asked her.
"The gym. I coach junior high volleyball."
"Is that a mortal sport?"
"Yeah. I played for a long time."
"Why did you stop?"
Genevieve stayed silent for a beat. "When I was still in high school, a few colleges wanted to recruit me for their teams. I would have gone to any of them, but…"
"But what?"
"Well, I don't really know what I want to do with my life. I didn't want to just up and leave my family with no plan. So after I graduated this spring, I decided to take a gap year to figure out what I want to do."
"Have you figured it out yet?" he asked. His tone seemed genuinely interested.
She stayed quiet for a while longer. "No," Genevieve admitted, dejectedly.
"Maybe you should work with animals," Caliban offered.
"Really? Why?"
"You seem to like them enough, you've got several as pets."
"Yeah, that's fair. But I don't think I could ever be a vet," she claimed.
"Then don't. Try something else."
"Like what?"
"You're the mortal here, not me," he chuckled. "You know more about your options than I do." Genevieve let out a little laugh as well. "Think about it," he advised her.
"I will. Thank you, Caliban."
—
Sabrina didn't return home until well past midnight. As she walked through the front door and quietly closed it, her cousin broke her silence from the stairs. "Where you been, Beans?"
Sabrina nearly jumped, startled. "I was— Oh, Aunties," she muttered, finally facing all three of them.
"Well, do you care to explain yourself?" Zelda questioned. Sabrina glanced at Genevieve, who was leaning over the top of the banister and mouthed I didn't say anything.
"Oh, I'm sorry I missed your first day at the Academy," she apologized. "I had this prob-"
"How many secrets are you keeping from us?" Zelda interrupted.
Hilda piped up in typical good-cop fashion. "You didn't happen to go to Hell, bring back your father, the Dark Lord, and stick him in the bowels of the Academy without telling us, did you?"
"Putting what's left of the coven, not to mention the entire world, in grave peril, just so you can see your boyfriend."
"That's not why I did it," Sabrina argued.
"Oh, God. Here we go again," Genevieve muttered as Tex jumped up onto the bannister beside her. She gave his head an absent-minded scratch as she watched the scene unfold.
"Oh, I know why you did it. Cassius delivered a stack of books with rituals about soul transference… I thought the Dark Lord was bad. I thought he was dangerous, but Lilith preserve up from his demented, lovesick daughter."
"Aunt Zelda!" Genevieve shouted. "That was so uncalled for!"
"I couldn't just leave Nick in Hell!" Sabrina defended herself. "Every second he was down there, he was in torment. Aunties, every second he was in pain."
"We know, darling," Hilda tried to comfort.
"And it's my fault." Her cousin began to tear up with the thought of Nick's suffering. "He did it for me. I couldn't just… wash my hands of him." Hilda stepped off of the stairs and went to Sabrina to try to comfort her. "I owed it to Nick to at least try and get Lucifer out of his body and into someone else's."
Zelda had begun to abandon her condemnation of Sabrina's actions, instead demanding that she come up with a well thought-out plan. "Whose? Where do you expect to find another vessel strong enough to withstand being turned into a flesh Acheron for the Devil himself?"
In a moment of perfect timing, Ambrose and Prudence appeared in the front hallway with a raggedy, bearded man at their feet. "Aunties," he greeted. "I'm home." It was evident in his tone and lack of breath that he was exhausted. "Any chance of a cuppa?"
Genevieve went downstairs and followed her cousin and Prudence into the kitchen. 'Whatcha want, 'Bose?"
"Something to help me sleep, finally," he rasped. "Thank you, cousin." (They weren't really cousins, but it was how they had referred to each other since Genevieve had come to live with them those 8 years ago.)
"You too?" she asked Prudence.
"Yes, please."
—
The next night, Sabrina returned home and immediately headed to Genevieve's room to de-stress from her arduous day. "That jerk Caliban challenged me for the throne," she sighed, laying down on Genevieve's bed. "Again. Legally, this time. And I had to accept it."
Her cousin took a deep breath. "Wow. He's really not letting it go, huh?"
"No. I wish he would, though."
"Well, what was the challenge? What do you have to do?"
"We're both supposed to search for the Unholy Regalia. It's a Hell thing," she explained at Genevieve's confusion. "The first item is Herod's Crown."
"H- King Herod? Like 'kill the babies' Herod?"
"That's the one."
"Jesus," Genevieve exhaled. "...No pun intended." She had been sitting on the floor with Rhiannon, watching as she explored the room, but stood up to sit next to her cousin. "Beans, you've got a lot on your plate right now. Are you sure you're gonna be okay?"
Sabrina considered her question for a moment. "No. Actually, I'm not sure. But I have to do this." She shut her eyes tight for a few seconds before opening them again and sitting upright. "And I have so much homework on top of this."
"You know what? I don't have anything to do tonight. You go to bed, I'll do your homework tonight." Sabrina smiled softly at her cousin.
"Vieve, you don't have to do that—"
"I know. But I want to. You need to rest. Besides," Genevieve said, "I already got through all of those classes once. I can do a few assignments tonight."
—
It was about eleven o'clock that same night and Genevieve was on a productive streak- in terms of getting her cousin's homework taken care of. She had advised Sabrina to talk to Ambrose the following day about looking for the crown and, subsequently, the rest of the regalia. In the midst of her focus, a gust of heat hit her and she could sense a presence in her room. She didn't even bother to turn around from her desk. "Go away, Caliban."
"I take it you've heard about my challenge, then?"
Genevieve set her pencil down and stared at him. "Do you have any idea the shit Sabrina's been going through, lately? I know you don't care, because all you want is power, but she's an actual person with other responsibilities and an entire life that she's dealing with on a daily basis. You're made of clay and you're from Hell, I get it, you must not have any sense of empathy, but this is taking a toll on everyone. You are such a raging narcissist." Caliban's smirk had dissipated by now. "Get out of my house, Caliban. I'm busy."
"You're wrong," he said. He was uncharacteristically quiet. "I can be empathetic." He sat down on the edge of Genevieve's bed, and Tex had allowed him to pet his head. "I do have emotions."
"Showing them from time to time might do you good." He said nothing, focusing his attention entirely on Tex rather than making eye contact with Genevieve. "Why are you here?" she asked, adopting a gentler tone. She felt as if she had been hard enough on him to get her point across. "Don't you have a crown to find, or something?"
"I've not yet located it. I was wondering if you've considered my offer?"
"Of course not," she scoffed. "I don't think you're gonna win. Beans may be busy, but she's smart. And talented."
"Well, she is the Dark Lord's daughter."
"Regardless. No, I haven't considered it. Is that all?"
"I hear there's a carnival in town."
Her brows furrowed momentarily. "What do you care?"
"Would it please the lady to accompany me? Tomorrow night?"
Genevieve went stiff like a deer in headlights. "Um… sure, okay. I guess?"
"You seem confused," he observed.
"Yeah, I- I am. A little. Surprised. Why do you wanna go to the carnival?"
"Is this not how mortals court each other?" he asked, standing up to lean against the desk she had been working at. He seemed his usual self again, another smirk crossing his face. "Or would you rather skip the formalities?" He winked, grinning down at her. Though she was still sitting, it was obvious that he was taller than she was.
She scoffed lightly. "Fine. I will go to the carnival with you tomorrow," Genevieve conceded. "Are you done now?"
"Are you sure you wouldn't have me spend the night?" he teased.
"Don't push it, Dirt-Man."
"As you wish," he told her, and threw his arms up, creating a vortex of fire and returning to the pits of hell.
—
Genevieve finally retired to bed at about quarter till 1 in the morning. Rhiannon was cozy in her tank and Tuck was in his; Pico was sleeping in his cage and Tex was curled up at the foot of her bed. Bambi was laying with her back to Genevieve's, but the blue pit had been awoken by a sudden presence appearing in the room. In the dark, Caliban had returned once more to the girl, this time having astral projected. Bambi's head stuck up, sniffing at him. He put his finger up to his lips and whispered to the dog, "Shh." Bambi was convinced and went back to sleep, leaving the boy to himself. He walked around until he was facing her, and he knelt down at her bedside. He rested his head on one arm while his other hand brushed some stray hairs away from her face. She looked so peaceful he was almost afraid to touch her. "Sleep well, darling girl," he whispered. "And forgive me for what I must do." Without another word, he kissed her forehead and promptly returned to his physical body in Hell.
are you going to write more for hopeless wanderer?
planning on it! don’t know where i want the story to go next bc when i was writing i didn’t have much of a plot but if i figure out what i want to happen then i’ll get on it
Can you make 'Soft' into a series? I really like the plot with Jerome!!
hi love!
if i ever get back into gotham i’ll def consider it. i just reread it for the first time in a while actually lol
as of rn im really not in the right place to be writing for gotham just bc ive fallen out of touch and it takes me a while to get back into the swing of things
do you still write for gotham? are requests open? i love your writing 💘
heyooooo
so. it’s not that i dont write for gotham exactly, more that i haven’t been into it for a while. i ever do pick back up on it i’ll make a post of course!
and on a separate note requests are ALWAYYSSSS open!!!
thank u sm for the support it means the world to me
absolutely none of u want this but you know what?? im fucking posting it anyways bc i LIKE IT
so here’s part 3
If the bond between the sons of Ragnar hadn't already been split after avenging their father, then they certainly were the moment that Ivar picked up his axe and launched it into Sigurd's chest. But when Ivar offered that his brothers remaining were welcome to join him on his journey to continue conquering more land and searching for the princess he had met not long before, something stirred in Hvitserk's heart. He was willing to look past the atrocity that Ivar had committed, if only for a while, if it meant that the dream he had been having could finally be answered.
When the youngest Ragnarson happened upon Floki and Helga planning to leave with their stolen child from Andalusia, he was half surprised that he was able to convince them to stay around for him. He was honestly devastated by the fact that he'd murdered his own brother, and Floki knew this better than anyone: one look at Ivar begging them to stay with him was all that he needed to know that Ivar would crumble without the one person who'd always been there for him. "My heart is broken," he whispered, voice hoarse from sobbing.
Floki hugged him tightly. "It will repair," he promised. "Think of your Liusaidh. Ivar the Boneless, scourge of the world. You will survive this."
—
"The Saxons are in disarray. This is a good opportunity. We have the resources to make a permanent settlement," Ubbe reasoned.
"D'you agree, Ivar?" Hvitserk silently hoped that he wouldn't, but his tone remained impartial.
"I don't want to disband the army. In fact, I want to continue the war against the Saxons while we are still in a position of strength! My suggestion is that we go back north, to where we defeated Ælle. We should establish a permanent camp, as you say," he gestured to Ubbe, "But near the coast. From where we can raid wherever we want."
"Our father's dream," Ubbe argued, using a half eaten chicken leg to punctuate his point, "Was that we wouldn't be just raiders. That we would behave in a different way."
"You're not listening, Ubbe. We- we have to have a stronghold. If we go north, we are closer to our own lands, and shipping routes… we can build an impregnable fortress."
"Where?" Hvitserk goaded.
"I've heard of a town. Called York." His brothers, clearly interested, stopped eating for a moment to listen. "It is built on a major river and it is not far from the sea. And I think that… we should take it."
Ubbe dissented. "No. It would seem like a withdrawal."
"Yes. Yes, it would," Ivar concurred, "But it is only tactical. Surely you understand, Ubbe, if we establish ourselves in the middle of the country, then we are surrounded by enemies! In York, we are near our home. Right, Hvitserk?"
Hvitserk glanced at Ubbe, hopeful. "I agree with Ivar. We should go north, and take York."
"That's good," Ubbe said, fake cheerfully, and left the tent. Hvitserk and Ivar shared a look.
"What about your Princess in Inis, Ivar?" Hvitserk prompted. "York is not near that other coast."
"No," he admitted, "But that is why we are going to Inis first, and then taking York."
"What do you mean?" he promptly spat back. "You just said— "
"I know what I said to Ubbe. But, brother, we are going to raid the other kingdom first, take what I am seeking, and then return to York. And…" he paused for a brief moment. "I am sure there is something you would like from Inish as well. The princess has plenty of sisters," he suggested.
Hvitserk wouldn't show it, but the thought of that excited him. He wondered if the girl that kept appearing in his dreams could possibly be one of the sisters Ivar mentioned.
—
"They're coming." Liusaidh woke up early in the morning, gasping for air like she hadn't breathed in hours. She had burrowed into Caridwen's side in the middle of the night during a particularly loud thunderstorm. The mac Neíll children all loved the rain, of course, but it was somewhat of a ritual for them to all gather in Caridwen's room when there was a midnight storm.
Niamh, on the other side of Caridwen and not moving a single inch, called out muffled by the covers, "What are you on about, Lius?"
"Vikings. They're coming. I— I had a dream about it. They're in England and they're coming to Inis."
"Don't be ridiculous," Brigid called from the other end of Caridwen's bed. "Vikings don't want to come here."
"I'm not kidding, both of you! It was like a vision; like I could see it happening in real life, but sped up very fast."
Labhraín was only half awake at that moment, but understood perfectly what Liusaidh was describing. "She's right," she whispered, voice hoarse. "I'm having a dream like it."
Caridwen, now fully awake and aware, sat up and got out of bed, walking over to her nightstand and pouring a jug of water into a bowl to wash her face. "Well then," she mumbled, "I suppose we should tell someone?" Brigid nodded.
"We should tell Morrigan, she knows all about these things."
"What do I know all about, you wee rascals?" Morrigan asked, entering into Caridwen's room to prepare them for the day.
"Liusaidh and Labhraín have been havin' the same dream about the same wee Vikings comin' to the island," Brigid told her. Morrigan nodded.
"Well then, wains, I'd say we'd better figure out what it all means then, wouldn't you?"
—
The princesses all trailed alongside or behind Morrigan as she led them to the drawing room in their section of the castle where they would all have their lessons— though, for today, instead of learning embroidery or music or writing, they'd be learning how to interpret the youngest mac Neílls most recent dreams. As the five young ladies took seats all around the room, Morrigan instructed Liusaidh and Labhraín to sit in front of her and relay their dreams in as much detail as they could recall.
Liusaidh went first, informing them about how she saw their beloved home, billowing in smoke, being plundered and pillaged by Viking raiders; how she saw her sisters all being pulled away from one another, while one group fled to safety and the other was lead to the Viking ships; how she could clearly see the face of the Viking boy that they had met in England not so long ago, and how he was the one dragging her away from her destroyed home.
Labhraín, still mildly bothered by Liusaidh's own dream, was then instructed to share her own. It had been recurring for several nights, and always the same: the same bloodied Viking man charging at her, always running away, but never fast enough, and being captured and dragged away to their heathen ships. Morrigan nodded understandingly upon hearing both dreams while the other three sisters waited with bated breath to hear her conclusion. "Well, lasses, it seems we have some mystics on our hands. Those are purely prophetic dreams if I've ever heard 'em— and I have, best you believe. What we're to do now is tell your Ma and Da all about what you've been seein', and let them decide how to deal with it."
—
As it turned out, the girls' parents decision on how to deal with it was to simply not deal with it at all. Despite all Morrigan's attempts to convince the king and queen that their daughters' dreams were truly seeing the future, and that they had much to fear, they couldn't be made to believe it.
"Girls," their father began, "I know that you believe that your dreams are tellin' the future. But I can promise you, with all I know, that it's simply not gonna happen! Your dreams are just the results of having too active imaginations, and from bein' at each other's sides all the live-long day. Lord above, you'd think the two wains were more twins than the actual twins," their father muttered to their mother, who simply nodded in response. "Now go to your studies please, all of you. Thank you for letting us know about your concerns, lasses, but there's nothing to worry about."
—
The next morning, Ivar and Hvitserk took off with a small band of men — enough to do damage, but not enough to make the rest of their great army less powerful— and headed off toward the opposite coast to sail to Inis. They'd informed Ubbe at the last minute, telling him of their plans to capture the kingdom and steal away a princess or two, and he was less than pleased with the idea. "You can't just raid an entire country on a whim, Ivar," he'd scolded, "These things have to be planned. What if you don't take enough men and get everyone killed, huh? This is a horrible idea. And what if the Saxons push us out while you are one?"
"The Saxons could not push us out no matter how hard they try; even if I take some men away for now. We are still stronger than them in every possible way, Ubbe. Have faith, brother! We have a plan. We know their kingdom does not have a very strong army. It will be an easy raid. Like when father sacked the monastery at Lindisfarne so long ago. There is nothing to worry about; and we will be back before you can even miss me," he smirked smugly, patting his oldest brother's cheek.
And so, despite his protests, Ivar and Hvitserk headed west to Inis, to capture the kingdom of Tara and, perhaps, even some princesses.
—
Within a week of Liusaidh and Labhraín's dreams first recurring, there had been news that Caridwen's betrothed, Alfred, was deathly ill, that the kingdom of Wessex had been taken over by Vikings, and that a band of "rogue" Vikings were heading west. Caridwen, who hadn't seen Alfred in close to three years, was devastated. There was no news that he had died (yet), but his mother Judith claimed that he wasn't showing signs of recovering any time soon. The two young royals had exchanged letters back and forth rather regularly after they'd first met one another all those years ago, and she was distraught that he was so ill and so far from home.
Her mother and father were concerned as well; not only for Alfred's health, but also for their daughter's future. "If Alfred doesn't survive, who will be left for her? His brother? Christ in heaven, Danu, it's not that I want to send the girl away, but we need this alliance."
"All we can do for now is pray, Aéd. We can't start makin' arrangements for the wain before anything even happens. Have faith that he'll be alright. If only for Caridwen."
Eoghan and his younger sisters, minus the eldest, were more concerned about the whispers of rogue Vikings and that they were coming west. Out in the forest once again, climbing trees and picking berries, they discussed their theories.
"Labhraín and I told you all that Vikings were coming. We had dreams and everything, but you didn't believe us."
"You don't even know that they're coming here, Liusiadh," Niamh called up to her sister, sitting on a tree branch and whittling a twig she'd found. "Y'have one dream and all of a sudden think you're a mystic; sweet Jesus."
"Niamh! You watch your words talkin' about the Lord!" Eoghan chastised her. The two of them were sitting below the trees on a quilt that they'd brought from the castle.
"Aye, Niamh, you shouldn't swear," Brigid called from beyond the bushes, picking berries. "Because when you swear, our Lady in Heaven, she cries her tears; and then make rain." She appeared in the clearing with the rest of her siblings. "Isn't that right, Eoghan?"
He stared at her for a moment, baffled, before slowly nodding. "Aye… so it is, Brigid. So it is." Brigid, pleased with his assurance, nodded once and smiled before hopping back off to pick more fruits.
"I think you're all dense as rocks for not believin' our dreams," Labhraín called. She was sitting on a tree branch opposite Liusaidh, weaving together flowers that she'd picked on their way to the forest. "Even Morrigan said so."
"Eoghan?" Liusaidh called to her brother. "How long d'you suppose it would take some Vikings to reach our coast from Wessex?" Physically, she was trying her hardest not to appear bothered; but the shaking of her voice betrayed the steadiness of her face.
"Week, week and a half maybe, Lius," he told her honestly. Eoghan was never the type to lie to someone for their own comfort. "But there's no way to know for sure whether or not these Vikings are even trying to come to Inis."
"Aye, not until they show up right on the coastline," Brigid deadpanned. "'Course, by then, it's too late. Y'know, because we're already trapped."
"Christ, Brigid! D'you have any damn empathy for your sister at all?" Niamh yelled. Eoghan, peeved with her profanity, launched an elderberry at her forehead. "Catch yerself on, Eoghan," she shot at him.
"What's your problem lately, Niamh?" Labhraín asked.
"Just gets me angry that you're all actin' as if there isn't something wrong when there clearly is." After a beat of silence, she continued. "Our oldest sister's bein' married off to a wain she met one time; and if that wain dies 'cause he's sick, then Da will make her marry his older brother, who might as well be an old man. And no one seems to care except me, not even Caridwen. And here you and Liusaidh are havin' dreams about Viking raids! And no one's been battin' an eye at any of it! It's pretty damn disgraceful, if you ask me!"
"Take a deep breath, dheirfúir. You'll pass out," Brigid reminded her through a mouthful of elderberries.
"Brigid," Niamh started, eyes closed and eerily calm. "I'm this close to launchin' you off that cliff." Brigid backed up a pace, eyes widening for a moment.
—
They came in the early hours of the morning.
The two youngest, still plagued by their possibly prophetic dreams, awoke a while after the witching hour, and found their way to one another in the castle's dim hallways. It was Liusaidh's idea to take the horses out and ride to clear their minds; while Labhraín didn't agree at first, she eventually caved. The girls left without stirring a single person in the castle from their sleep.
They were too far inland from the coast to see the ships landing on the shore or hear the hollers coming from aboard.
The sun had only just begun to rise on the day that their futures would be altered forever.
—
"This is the place, Ivar? You're sure?" Hvitserk asked. They were just moments away from reaching the shore.
"Exact place? No, Hvitserk, I am not sure. I have never been to this place before, have you?" he snapped. "If it is not here, we will find it. But I know it is the right country."
"I can only hope, Hvitserk muttered. When the ships were beached and the castle was in sight, the rogue band of Vikings poured out onto the sand; and once Ivar's chariot was prepared, they headed toward the place where he prayed to the fates that his Liusaidh would be.
—
After the girls had calmed themselves during their walk in the forest, they returned to the open field to find their horses gone. "Maybe they got spooked by a snake," Labhraín tried.
"There are no snakes in Inis, fool. Remember Naomh Pádraig?"
"Something else, then. A bear, maybe?"
"I hope not." They shared a solemn look and took off back toward the castle. "I'm sure they went home, though."
"We should hurry back, then. In case anyone sees them without us and thinks we're in trouble."
Once the walk was purely downhill, the girls were shocked at the state of their castle home. There were ships surrounding the coast, the gates were destroyed, windows were smashed, almost everything outside, was turned over or broken, and — there were Vikings. Real life Vikings. Everywhere. They were frozen on the spot, unable to say or do anything out of pure shock, until one Viking took note of them and pointed them out to the one who seemed to be the leader. He was riding a chariot pulled by a white horse, and was the only one not running around and wreaking havoc, so he must have been the one in charge. He took off uphill toward them and they ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction, their bodies working faster than their brains.
—
Ivar called for his brother. "Hvitserk!" he yelled, "There are two of them. Maybe one is the girl from your dream!" It was obvious that Ivar was making fun of him, but his curiosity piqued and got the best of him; he followed his brother's chariot as fast as his legs would move towards the ones Ivar was chasing after.
—
He was gaining on them and they were running out of options. They still had not reached the top of the hill, and the girls' legs were going weak on them. Labhraín tripped over a well-hidden rock, which put Liusaidh plenty of paces ahead of her. She almost stopped when she realized that her sister had fallen, but the chariot was getting too close. "Keep running, Liusaidh!" Labhraín called, and she obeyed her sister. She took off parallel to where she'd fallen, hoping to deter him from getting to her instead, and it seemed that her plan worked. The man in the chariot, wearing a heavy-duty metal helmet, took one look at Labhraín and went after the youngest instead. He was gaining on her faster and faster, and was getting closer and closer, until all Liusaidh could do was look straight ahead and pray to God he was farther away than he sounded.
Her prayers were not answered in the way that she was hoping. All of a sudden, the white horse and chariot were running up ahead of her and came to an abrupt halt, blocking her path. She was met face to face — well, face to helmeted face — with the man who had been pursuing her for so long. "Hello, Liusaidh. It is so nice to see you again."
That voice, she thought, it sounds so familiar.
He took off his helmet. It was the Viking prince she had met all those years ago in Wessex — it was Ivar the Boneless. "You are so tired from running," he observed, and suddenly she was too aware of her panting breaths and heavy legs. She noted that he was speaking in English to her. "Why don't you come up here and sit down?" he offered.
"Níl aon slí," she spat at him, glaring daggers. "Bastaird Lochlannach."
He smiled condescendingly. "Well. I do not know what you just said, but I can tell that it wasn't very nice. Am I correct?" She remained stone cold. "I don't want to hurt you, Liusaidh. But you need to come with me willingly, or we will have problems." Still, she refused to move. He entertained her defiance for a moment, but was fed up with it very quickly. "You know," he started, "It would be such a shame if anything happened to your other sisters back at the castle. My men are there now, making sure they don't do anything… irrational. But if I were to give them permission… Well, I'm sure you wouldn't be too happy to hear what would happen to them— "
"Stop," she interrupted him in English. "Don't… don't hurt my sisters. I'll go. Just leave my family alone."
"Very wise. Come on, then," he gestured to a small, bench-like seat next to him on the chariot. "It isn't very Christian to keep your guests waiting, is it?" Begrudgingly, she accepted his outstretched hand to pull her up into the chariot, and sat down uncomfortably next to him. He refused to let go of her hand, instead bringing it up to his mouth. "You know," he began, the horse heading back to the castle and the shoreline, "I have been very excited to see you again since we last met. Do you remember? In Wessex?"
"Yes," she hoarsely whispered. "I remember."
"That was the last time my father was alive. Did you know?" She shook her head. "King Ecbert pawned him off to be killed. My brothers and I began planning our revenge as soon as we heard. And we finally got it, all these years later."
"Why did you come here? We had nothing to do with your father's death."
"Oh, I know." He released her hand and brought his own to smooth over her hair, like he was petting her. "I did not come here for revenge. I came for you."
She was speechless, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why?"
"You know, I never forgot about you," he told her, seemingly changing the subject. He smiled down at her. "I always knew that I would find you again one day."
—
While her sister took off in the other direction, Labhraín realized that the man on the chariot was not the only one chasing them. There was a man coming after her on foot, sword in hand, blood splattered on his face; she got an overwhelmingly unsettling feeling of deja-vu.
He seemed to feel it, too, because she could swear that she saw his eyes widen in realization when he saw her face. If it were at all possible, he began running toward her even faster. She stumbled over herself in a rapid attempt to stand back up and began running as fast as her legs would move her. She periodically looked back over her shoulder to take note of how close he was, and he was rapidly gaining on her. The hill still had yet to peak, and she was losing energy.
She misjudged a crucial step and stumbled again, and her exhaustion caught up to her as the Viking did. (She realized now, what was so familiar to her — this was her dream. This was going to happen all along. She couldn't escape it.) She could hear him breathing heavily, getting closer and closer, footsteps pounding on the ground. He grabbed her arm roughly, once he was within reach of her, and pulled her toward him.
He brought his sword to her back to keep her from trying to escape and brought his other hand to grab her face now. He said something to her in what she could only assume was Norse, a bone-chilling smile on his face. At her terrified and confused expression, he repeated himself in English. "It's you."
"Níl aithne agam ortsa." She tried to shove him off of her and escape the pressing sword, but he held her tighter in response.
"Ah," he warned. "We've already defeated your people. It will be best for you to obey me. Come," he ordered, and she glared defiantly instead. He adopted an evil smirk and ran his thumb over her lips; she felt half tempted to bite, but decided not to. He then abruptly grabbed the back of her head and brought his sword to her neck, eliciting a small gasp, and maneuvered them both so that he was behind her, hand guiding the small of her back and sword still ready to slice. "You are a stealthy little thing, you know?" he mumered in her ear. "You have been showing up in my dreams at night for quite some time. I was beginning to think that I would not ever find you."
"What do you want from us?"
"Oh, I don't care for anything your kingdom can give me. I only wanted you. And now that I've gotten when I came here for, I will go back to England with my brothers, and we will take over York."
"Alright," she tried to reason. "You've gotten me. You've gotten what you came here for. Then you must leave immediately and not harm my people."
"That's not my decision, pretty girl. You will just have to hope that your sister doesn't anger Ivar. He is in charge of all of this," he gestured to the scene before them. Hundreds of violent Viking warriors running amuck and causing panic in the streets of Tara.
A thousand more questions ran around her head, but she took a deep breath — the sharp metal of Hvitserk's sword pressing into her throat — and remained silent, tilting her chin up just a hair. If she was going to die, she would die with all the dignity she could muster.
—
They all four returned back to within the city walls not long after the two girls had been captured. It was evident that Hvitserk had not been lying when he said that Ivar was in charge of the army, because when he entered into the crowd of violent foreign invaders with Liusaidh at his side, they all fell silent and watched him closely, as if they were a pack of hunting dogs and he was their master returning with a fox. He stopped the chariot briefly, yelling something out to his warriors, and they all turned back the way they came and headed back to their longboats.
Liusaidh and Labhraín shared a panicked look when the two men who had seized them led them into the castle instead. "Dúirt sé go raibh grúpa fir ina ngiall," Liusaidh informed her sister, refusing to speak English in front of the two men.
"An gceapann tú go ndéanfaidh sé iad a mharú?"
"Níl — níl a fhios agam," Liusaidh croaked, a heavy tear sliding down her cheek.
Ivar interrupted their conversation. "I hope you are not trying to plan an escape," he threatened, grabbing Liusaidh roughly by the hair and forcing her to look at him.
"We're not!" she cried, scalp burning sharply.
"Good," he responded, "Because it would not end well." He released his hold on her and lightly tapped her cheek. Ivar abandoned his horse and chariot and instead grabbed a pair of very heavy-duty metal crutches. He also grabbed two short spare ropes, throwing one to Hvitserk, and tied Liusaidh's wrists together, leaving enough on one side to pull her along with him like a very tragic leash. Hvitserk did the same to Labhraín's wrists, tying them so tightly that she gave a weak yelp when he tugged on them. He said nothing, nor did he make any attempts to loosen then, only smirking darkly.
They entered into the castle, quickly finding where the Viking warriors were keeping the rest of the royal family hostage. They were in the girls' music room; Caridwen, Brigid, and Niamh were still in their simple white cotton nightgowns, same as Liusaidh and Lahbraín. Their father and brother were both wearing soft cotton trousers, one pair brown and the other a dark grey. Eoghan's tunic was a shade of white like his sisters' clothes, and King Aéd was wearing a deeply dyed red one. Their mother, also in her nightgown, had managed to also throw a deep green cloak over herself, dreading to be seen by such heathen invaders in her sleepwear. Ivar spoke to his men, surrounding the family with swords pointed and ready, in their native language, and the men backed away. "Your highness," he began, mock-bowing before King Aéd and still holding onto Liusaidh's rope. "We are very sorry to disturb your sleep. My most sincere apologies. But we got what we came for, as you can see." He lifted Liusaidh's hands with the rope, and Hvitserk did the same. The two girls looked pleading and sorrowful to their family, but understood that it would be much too risky for any of them to make any sudden movements. "So we will be on our way now. — And, don't try anything when we leave. I have made a promise to sweet Liusaidh here that I will not kill any of you, but if you try to hurt me or my brother... my hand may slip," he threatened. He then barked an order to his men to leave the castle and head back to the longboats, and he and Hvitserk turned and headed back the way they came, leaving the mac Neílls to their own devices in their ransacked castle. They stayed put, too afraid to move a finger (for Liusaidh and Labhraín's own safety, they could hardly claim to understand the thought process of these heathens), as the girls were dragged back outside.
The four of them exited the castle doors and, when Hvitserk shut and barred them, one of Ivar's personal guards presented him with a lit torch. "What are you doing?" yelled a panicked Labhraín, both at Hvitserk and Ivar — whoever would listen. "You said you wouldn't hurt them!"
"I said we wouldn't hurt them. If they can't escape the fire, well… that's not our fault. Hvitserk! Set it."
—
Liusaidh and Labhraín were dragged away by a handful of Vikings, becoming too fidgety for just one person to keep a grip on them. Thrown onto Ivar and Hvitserk's boat — the biggest one of the fleet — they could do nothing but watch their castle home go up in smoke as they sailed away from the shore and due east.
Neither of them had the will or the energy to protest as their ankles were bound and another rope was tied to connect their wrists to their feet. Ivar hobbled on his crutches to take a seat at the edge of the boat next to Liusaidh. His gloved and rough hand ame up to stroke the side of her face and brush through her hair. "You will forget about them one day. And you will learn to be happy with me," he promised, but the promise to her sounded more like a threat.
—
At the back of the boat, Hvitserk had seated himself next to Lahbraín. He brought her a spare blanket, placing it around her shoulders as she couldn't do it herself. He placed his palm on her cheek and brushed a tear away. "I am not a bad man like you think," he told her in a low whisper. "You will understand that eventually."
