/ Another fanfiction for the tragedy between Myrtle Snow and Fiona Goode. This one is going to have more chapters and it is not going to be lemon-y for a change. Please enjoy, leave (constructive) feedback, if you please. /
Burn, Witch, Burn
"You're all a bunch of little toads in a pot
that Fiona is slowly bringing to a boil.
You won't even feel it until it's too late.
I'd rather burn than boil."
- Myrtle Snow
Chapter I: Someone's Gotta Kill This Creep
„This blood is my mother's."
A sharp, stinging feeling shot through the witch's stiff body at the terrifying revelation that was the news of the Supreme's death. Murdered by her very own lover – or rather her easily manipulable puppet. The man who was right there in front of all their eyes, covered in Fiona Goode's blood.
Myrtle Snow had already feared such. However, despite any agony paining her, despite that numb feeling spreading all across her torso and limbs upon learning of her greatest enemy's passing, she stood still and did not dare to show any reaction. Not any reaction that could give away how it truthfully ached within the redhead's chest.
"Holy shit … so she's really gone?" Zoe's voice seemed to return the oldest of the coven's witches into reality, or at least assist her in shaking off the numb feeling for a little while longer.
"Does anyone feel any different?" What else would the pseudo Hollywood starlet Madison Montgomery be on about, if not a possible answer to the question of who would become the next Supreme, now that the old one was dead.
Dead. The thought still had not quite settled yet.
Clearing her throat, Myrtle eventually attempted to speak again, form a simple, yet so very difficult question. Perhaps, and the flame-haired woman was sincerely hoping for it, perhaps there was still a chance.
"Where's the body?"
"In the swamps. He fed her to the alligators." While getting up from the floor where Cordelia was previously sat to see what had happened, what the Axeman had done to her mother, the headmistress responded to Myrtle's question a little breathlessly. Her expression displayed nothing but disbelief, and perhaps deep down, Cordelia felt something comparable to what a person usually felt in a case of bereavement.
For a brief moment, Myrtle Snow felt her heart shatter yet again into even more tiny pieces. She felt any possible chance of saving the dead Supreme crumble slowly.
"Jesus", Zoe commented on how the Axeman had apparently proceeded with the corpse of Fiona Goode after having brutally murdered her. With his axe.
"That's it then; even I can't bring somebody back once they're gator shit."
Misty Day's words rang in the ginger witch's ears for longer than necessary. That was it. Even the witch the power of resurgence was incapable of doing something, incapable of bringing Fiona back to life, incapable of saving Myrtle Snow's heart from breaking. Who would want the Supreme to be revived anyways, besides the redhead? Not even Cordelia would want her own mother to return and cause more havoc among the coven.
Perhaps, it was for the best, after all.
"Okay … so who wants to do this? Somebody's gotta kill this creep." Once more, Myrtle was stripped off of her thoughts, this time by Queenie. This time, the topic was the man who had committed so many crimes in his lifetime – both the first and the second. As it seemed, this very man was destined to die a cruel death yet again. He had to suffer for what he had done to Fiona, Myrtle thought. However, the redhead wouldn't be Myrtle Snow if she did not disagree with anyone's crude and savage behaviour.
Ever since, the lover of tartan patterns had been a woman of words rather than action. It said actions spoke louder than words, and yet, Myrtle disagreed. In her eyes, a sophisticated and classy witch would solve a problem maturely, without smashing another against a wall by magic or slapping them or even stabbing them to death.
"Oh bloody-blood-blood, all day in this place, is that really necessary?" There it was, Myrtle's sorry attempt at calming down the young witches' nerves, attempting to keep them from performing any more criminal actions.
There was something else deep inside the redheaded witch – the wish to see this man beg for forgiveness, beg for mercy – the wish to see his blood spill and mix with that of his former lover. Maybe, even Myrtle Snow was not free of sin and did have a secret desire to take action in the most savage ways. Had she not done just that in order to restore her beloved Cordelia's eyesight?
Yet, why would she wish for such a dreadful kind of vengeance for her nemesis? What was it that Myrtle was feeling deep within, next to the horrific pain that she could so finely play down?
"Yeah, he's a psycho mass murderer."
Madison's not-so-false remark was offered as a response to Myrtle's previous question – was this necessary? The second rate actress was giving the Axeman a disgusted look as she spoke, almost playfully swinging the man's bloody axe in her hands once she had picked it up from the floor. The redhead, who was stood right beside the young blonde, eyed her actions with a sceptical expression in her blue eyes, soon returning to her typical, reserved words-are-superior-to-primitive-actions attitude.
"Is there anyone here of whom that cannot be said?" Myrtle looked around once, eyeing each of the younger witches once. "This poor troubled soul has saved this coven by doing away with Fiona. And as Cervantes once said, 'Where there is music, there can be no evil.'", Myrtle mused eventually, as if attempting to ease the tension that was obviously lingering in the academy's hallway, among the witches of the coven and the Axeman who was, in fact, about to die.
She was also still doing her best to repress the sharp, stinging feeling that had shot through her body first when Cordelia had confirmed whose blood this murderous jazz musician was covered with.
"Cervantes never meant this asshole." It was Kyle's voice that interrupted Myrtle's thought process this time. The blue eyes followed the male's behaviour and his clear intentions through her vintage glasses intently, yet she did not dare to halt his actions, his movements forward to the pained Axeman.
Little words did Kyle speak as he grasped the musician by his collar and dragged him across the floor for a moment before hooking his arms underneath the man's upper arms in order to pull him upward. The Axeman was not yet standing properly when the next thing Myrtle heard was a determined 'No, I'll do it' from Madison, who then stepped forward with the axe tightly clasped in her palms.
The girl did not hesitate a moment to swing the axe and smash it right into Fiona's deadly lover's midsection. A painful groan escaped him as he stumbled backward into the kitchen, blood spilling from the freshly caused wound. A pool of blood was forming on the expensive parquet flooring at this time before Zoe, Queenie and Misty followed Madison into the kitchen.
"We don't need a man to protect us", said Misty as she walked past Kyle, ready to avenge so many women's deaths.
The following events revolving around the Axeman were no longer of interest to Myrtle Snow, who was remaining in the hallway together with her beloved Cordelia.
"Come here, little bird, let me soothe you", said Myrtle as she already reached out to the headmistress of Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies, carefully wrapping her arms around the younger woman. Both of the witches had had something taken away from them that day.
Cordelia had lost her mother. No matter how little Fiona had cared about her daughter and no matter how much Cordelia despised her own mother, a certain piece had suddenly been ripped out of the blonde's heart.
Myrtle, on the contrary, had been liberated from her most hated enemy, from the woman who had made the redhead's life a living hell over and over again, from the woman who had always been better than her and made her feel little. Although that was not everything the flame-haired witch had lost – this immense pain she felt derived from something else, something buried deep inside her chest.
Affection.
An affection that Myrtle was not going to deny, at least not to herself. Not anymore. Was this affection triggered merely by this one heated kiss Fiona and Myrtle had shared a while back? Or did these feelings go way back in their mutual history, their joint past?
What did it matter now, anyways? Fiona Goode was dead and there was no way the most despised Supreme of all time would ever walk through the academy's doors again. Much to the distress of Myrtle Snow. Oh, her heart was broken.
"We have to find our new Supreme soon, Myrtle."
"And we are going to, my dear Delia. With or without your mother, there is nothing that stands in the way of a new Supreme rising now."