This idea came to me last night in a moment of inspiration and I took about four hours to finish it, not wanting to let it fall to the wayside. This is more or less a character sketch of Mila as she gradually grew mad. I wanted to present a potential pathway for her madness, since, unlike Duma, there's not an obvious path for a mostly peaceful, pacifistic dragon to become destructively insane. The OC POV character, Siobhan, is a bit of a blank slate as a result, but she's not really the main character anyway: Mila is. Hope you enjoy. ~Sean
Siobhan smiled as she listened to the clapping of her shoe soles against the polished floor of Mila's temple. In her hands was an equally polished silver platter with gold trim, bearing a lobster hot and ready for serving. This, of course, was a standard task for her—carrying lobsters or some other ridiculously delectable food. The Mother always provided. The Temple's fishing waters were always full, to the point that what should have been a rare delicacy could be pulled from the seas as if it were tuna. The farms were the same, yielding so much grain that barrels of it rotted because the clerics could neither eat it nor give it away fast enough.
The Temple had been this way for as long as Siobhan could remember. She had been born in the temple to one of the clerics and a farmer who had come to the temple to aid in the never-ending harvest. Not having any reason to leave, she had remained there as a cleric herself, even after her parents moved to the capital to retire with Mila's blessings. Now she served as part of Mila's inner circle—the few clerics whose duty was to serve the Mother's needs throughout the day. And as a result, Siobhan had spent far more time in Mila's care than she had in the care of her own parents—more than most, Mila was truly Siobhan's Mother.
Soon the clapping sound of her footsteps shifted into echoing clicks as she entered the Mother's throne room. She carefully stepped toward the divine throne, coming alongside it so that the Mother could take from the plate what she wished. While technically, the entire meal was an offering to Mila, the Mother would generally take only a portion to start, and then the rest would be brought to a long table in the center of the room for the Temple's clerics and priestesses to eat, with Siobhan taking more food to the Mother if she called for it. If they finished it and needed more, then Mila would simply turn the food's state in time back to how it was before being eaten, similar to the way in which Mila's Turnwheel was supposed to function, albeit contained to just one item. It wouldn't do to have the meal in their stomachs to revert to its previous status, after all.
As Siobhan came alongside the throne, she bowed her head and held forth the platter. "Mother, we thank you for your bounty today, and in gratefulness offer it back to you."
This was, of course, a stiff, formal, liturgical little line. Invariably, Mila would reply back with the liturgical response, but then follow with some personal question about how Siobhan was doing. The Mother was deeply interested in the lives of her closest children, the Temple clerics, and took care to know each one's name, hobbies, and desires, not only so that she could fulfill them, but also so that she could be a personal friend to them. Aside from the royal family and the current king, Lima IV, nobody drew Mila's most eager interest than Siobhan and her Temple sisters.
However, this time, Mila did not respond as expected. She didn't give the liturgical blessing, nor did she ask any question of Siobhan. She seemed to examine the lobster as if she was unsure of what to do with it. Peculiarly, she actually picked up parts of it and looked under—for whatever reason. Eventually, the Mother cracked it open and took a hearty helping before she finally looked up at Siobhan. The Mother grinned wide before reaching over and pinching Siobhan's cheek.
"Thank, you Siobhan! You're such a good girl, yus you are." The Mother continued pinching Siobhan's cheek all the while, talking almost as one would to a baby. "Now go take it to the others. Good girl."
Mila finally released Siobhan's cheek, allowing the cleric to descend the staircase to the table. Her face reddened as most of the clerics' eyes were on her, trying to figure out what she had done to get that strange reaction from the Mother. Only the high priestess's eyes were elsewhere—on the Mother herself.
As the clerics ate, Siobhan found herself glancing back to the Mother, who was watching the clerics with unusual interest. Occasionally, the Mother caught Siobhan looking at her, which, of all things, caused the Mother to giggle as she pulled a few strands of hair in front of her mouth.
After the meal, it was traditional for the Mother to give her daily blessing on the land of Zofia before she admitted the most desperate to the Temple to ask for her help. No person of Zofia who came in to the Mother was ever denied if it was possible, though a few—those asking for particular lovers, for example—would instead have their prayers answered in a different way, such as the Mother removing romantic desire for an unrequited love. Smaller requests would be handled by the saints of the Temple with either the Temple's stock or their magic. This was, as mentioned before, to occur after the meal.
Mila, however, had other ideas this day. Almost like a little girl bored with a slow family conversation, the Mother suddenly stood up from the throne and briskly walked toward the exit. The clerics quickly rose from their meal and began to rush after the Mother, but she turned and leaned forward, wagging her finger.
"No, no, no, no, you stay." When the clerics failed to stop, she took a more stern tone. "Stay!"
The high priestess raised her hand and the group stopped, drawing another big grin from the Mother.
"Very good. Now girls, I need you all to stay here right now. I'm just going to go feed the others, and then I'll be right back. Okay? Okay! Bye, bye."
"Others, Mother?" asked one of the clerics from the middle of the group.
"Why yes, Alice. The other Zofians. I need to feed, them, you know. And I also want to check on little Lima, too. I'm going to call him here, and then you'll get to see Lima again. Won't that be fun? You all will have lots of fun playing with Lima. You're all such good little humans."
One of the clerics started to speak again, but the high priestess squeezed her arm to silence her.
Mila slowly began walking out of the room, keeping her eyes on the clerics. "Okay, now, stay… stay… good girls, stay… stay…"
She continued until she was out of sight, leaving a very confused group of clerics.
"Priestess," Siobhan asked, breaking the silence, "what just happened?"
The high priestess's face, unlike the clerics, was not confused, but frightened. "Clean up the meal and get ready to pray."
"But Mother just told us to stay here."
"Do what I said. Mother Mila needs us to pray."
That evening was the first of many in Mila's Temple of the clerics, priestesses, and even the saints all devoting themselves to fervent prayer. The prayers' contents were unusual, not asking for particular blessings, but rather reciting Mila's own history, as if she needed to be reminded. At the end of the prayer session, one of the saints would be selected to offer up one final prayer: "Mila, Earth Mother, while there is time, call the War Father for his aid. Call to wake Falchion to its purpose. We ask this above all other needs, Mother Mila. Amen."
Frequently, the Mother would be in the room while these prayers were said, but she hardly seemed to acknowledge them, instead stopping to kneel by each cleric and either rub their chins or scratch their ears, to ruffle their hair or to baby-talk. But by the end of the session, something seemed to get through to her—often the saint's prayer for Falchion. When this happened, the Mother would rise to her feet, frowning and shaking her head.
"No, no, I know you all. Everything is fine. There's no need to talk to Duma. I'm sorry to have worried you."
And then she would go to bed, and would wake up the next morning as if nothing had happened, treating all of them like children. Or, as Siobhan soon realized, as pets.
This behavior soon replaced the old liturgy. Siobhan was no longer called upon to carry a daily meal to Mila. Rather, Mila would grab something herself and feed it bite-by-bite to the clerics, seemingly ignorant of any sense of embarrassment or lost dignity. Any time a cleric objected, they were talked down to, often receiving more than one rebuke of "no, bad girl!" Siobhan herself was selected to "play fetch" with Mila, as the goddess pranced around the throne room with a ball, trying to get the girl to chase after it and bring it back to her.
Desperate to keep the situation secret, the high priestess intervened to prevent anyone from entering the temple until the problem could be solved. Only King Lima IV would be permitted to enter, if he ever deigned to visit. But that old lich, even when asked, would only ever come if he wanted something.
Unfortunately, he did.
The king, years before, had infamously kidnapped Liprica from among the clerics and made her his queen, the unwilling favorite of a many unwilling wives. While that had been an unusual situation, it had cemented in his mind that at Mila's Temple there were options available for him if he ever found young, pretty, untainted girls to satisfy him. He had never again come to engage in that option—he had a good sized stockpile of women sitting back in the castle, after all—but for whatever reason, he decided that it wouldn't hurt to look.
Siobhan was there when the king arrived, black magic at the ready. The high priestess was careful to ensure that nobody else entered, not even the king's retainers. And if they tried, well, that's what Siobhan's black magic was for. The priestess attempted to greet him, primarily to keep him from encountering Mila for as long as possible. But the king had other ideas.
"Where are the women?" Lima snapped, before he briefly glanced at the priestess's face. "The young ones."
The priestess's face went white. "Your majesty, I thought you were here at the request of the Mother?"
"I am here at the invitation of the old lizard, yes—not that I needed it—but I am not here for her. She might be good-looking, but I have no interest in consorting with dragons."
"Your majesty, that borders on blasphemy!"
"Oh, does it? Well, then I'll be sure to finish my business here and leave as soon as possible—so that I don't have any more close calls. So now where are the girls?"
The priestess fumbled around only slightly. "In time, your Majesty. I'm afraid they're out working, right now, and the Mother is waiting to see—"
"That one," the king said, pointing a gnarled finger toward Siobhan. "Let me see that one."
Siobhan recoiled as the king marched forward, the priestess just barely keeping herself from tugging him aside.
"Please, your majesty, don't worry about her. The Mother is—"
"The Mother can wait her turn if she wants some action. I'm interested in this lass right now." Lima grabbed Siobhan by the arm, holding her staff down as he grabbed her chin and pushed it around to get a good look at her face. "Hmm. She's not bad. I'm less picky in my old age—blinder too—so an average face is something I can work around. It's what's beneath the face that counts." He reached toward her chest before a voice from behind him made him jump back.
"Lima! Ooooh, it's so good to see you. You came good and quick this time. Good boy!" Mila leaned down and reached for his cheek, leading him to slap it aside.
"What the hell, woman!"
Suddenly Mila's smile turned to a scowl. "Lima! Bad boy, bad boy! You sit still."
"What the hell?" he repeated, starting to back away until a look in Mila's eyes made him freeze.
The goddess cupped his head in her hands. "Even after all these years, there's still a lot of little Zofia in you," she said, presumably referring to the first king of her side of Valentia. "I suppose that's what good breeding will get you. And if I remember correctly, some of your children have Liprica for a dam. That's good stock. Remind me, how many were in her litter?"
Lima was visibly shaking as Mila waited for his answer, scratching behind his ear. "L–litter? We don't have—people, I mean, don't h–have l–litters. Just one at a… at a time."
"Not even three? That's disappointing. I wonder if it would be easier if you laid eggs. But I don't think I can breed that trait. Maybe magic…"
Lima shuddered, but didn't say anything.
"Well, Lima, you know how I love to spoil you. What would you like? There's plenty of food, pretty trinkets from the ground—you name it."
As nervous as Lima was, his greed could overcome all fear. "Well, my Mother, you speak of your disappointment with my… litters. Perhaps this is a problem of… overripe mates. If I could have some younger stock—" he paused to step over by Siobhan, resting a hand on her rear, "—like this one here, then perhaps you would have better results."
"Aw, you love each other, don't you? Very well. Siobhan will go with you. Now come on, it's time for you to eat. Come on! Come on! Good boy!"
Lima leered over Siobhan and grinned as he took hold of her, taking the feel that he had tried to get earlier. "Siobhan, is it? I'm going to have a lot of fun with you. I'm sure you're good and fresh."
Siobhan panicked, trying to tear her away from Lima. But although the king was older than when he had taken Liprica, he was still strong enough to overpower a young girl like Siobhan. As tears streamed down her face, she looked to the high priestess for help. Her trusted older sister, however, could do nothing against an act wished by both the king and the goddess, except to cry herself.
As a last resort, Siobhan cried out to Mila, "Mother, help me!"
"Siobhan! Bad girl. You stay with Lima and be quiet. Listen to Mila, Mother knows what's best for you."
And with that, there was no hope left. The day went on, Siobhan sitting in tearful silence as she felt the betrayal of the mother. It would be a year before she returned.
This time, Siobhan did not enter the temple wearing her exquisite silken dress that the Mother had granted to her, but rather an old maternity dress granted by King Lima as a last gift before he sent her away. He had not even given her the dignity of marrying her as he had done with dozens of the women who came before her. He merely used her until her pregnancy made her useless in his eyes, and, wanting to avoid another competitor for the throne among his children, banished Siobhan and refused to acknowledge her unborn child as his own. This left her with one resort: The Mother Mila.
She almost was not admitted, until the high priestess was informed of who she was. Their reunion was perhaps the first genuine care that someone had shown for Siobhan since before her departure, and she found that she needed more of it—even if it came from the goddess that had betrayed her.
"Priestess… where is the Mother? I want to see her."
"She can't… she's—"
"I don't care if she's still mad. I need to see her. She might be made, but she still cares, in spite of it. I know she does."
"I… don't know if that's true anymore. She's worse than before. I don't think you should see right now. It won't help you."
"I have to see!" Siobhan pushed past the priestess, marching down the main hall to the throne room.
"Siobhan! Stay with me. Don't go in!"
Siobhan ignored her and walked in to see Mila lackadaisically sprawled out on the throne, with a half-eaten apple in her hand. "Mother!"
Mila glanced down at Siobhan, who rushed up the floor toward her. The Mother stopped chewing to wonder what was happening. "What does this one need? Or is she bringing more apples?"
"Mother!" Siobhan said, carefully kneeling on the floor as best she could without losing her balance. "I came back. Lima cast me out, and I came to you. You've always taken care of me, and so I come to you again now. Please, Earth Mother, help me."
Mila didn't move, aside from drawing the apple back to her mouth for another bite. "Priestess, tend to this one, and get it to quit making so much noise. You, bring one of the harpists. Let's get some better noise in here."
"Mother? Mother, I need you! Don't you cast me away, too. Mother? Mother!?" The Mother didn't answer.
Suddenly, a group of clerics rushed in, yelling about an intruder. The rest began to scatter, except for a few that ran to Mila, begging for her to rise and do something, but the goddess seemed unconcerned. Through the doors emerged a large man with white hair, laden with massive red armor and a vicious-looking sword. As they ran, the high priestess stopped by Siobhan to help her rise to her feet and move out of the way.
At the sight of the red-armored titan, Mila finally spoke.
"This is Zofian soil. The Rigelian Emperor would do well to state his intentions."
The emperor said nothing, but merely slammed the point of his sword into the floor, cracking it effortlessly.
"The Kingsfang…" Mila muttered.
"The Mother may deduce my intentions," the Emperor growled, "from this blade. You know what it signifies."
The Mother gazed at the emperor for a moment before an insane look entered her eyes. Those near her were close enough to see the irises shrink and the pupils change shape, no longer the black dots of a human's eye, but the slits of a dragon's.
"Indeed!" The Mother said, with a hint of glee in her voice. She stood from her seat and a gust of wind began to blast outward from her. "It means you are in violation of the ACCORD!"
The emperor only smirked as Mila drew her dragonstone. Green energy swirled around it as the room filled with a tempest, blasting aside all but Mila and the emperor.
"Damn you, Duma!" The Mother shrieked.
As the Mother's true form began to show, her power cast aside faithful servants who had stood by her side all their lives. The gusts themselves killed at least a few as they slammed into the walls and pillars of the temple, breaking their bones. Meanwhile, the emperor readied his sword and held it in front of him. Meanwhile, Siobhan stood helpless at the side wall, held in the high priestess's arms.
"Mother, stop!" Siobhan cried, unable to do anything else. "Stop this, please, Mother Mila!" She turned to the priestess. "Someone has to stop this!"
The priestess's eyes were closed. She was praying, but not to Mila.
"I thank you, Father Duma, for sending your servant to help our Mother. When the gods are gone, may we find some replacement for her love—the love of the Mother."
Please give me some feedback in the comments, especially since I wrote this in one sitting and haven't really reexamined it at all for errors or potential improvements. The basic progression (or regression) for Mila is supposed to go sane providing goddesscrazy cat ladylazy woman who forgets to feed her pets, but I fear I may have gone too fast for that to be evident. Also, if you liked this, check out my other stories, "Love is Like Killing," "Hans Must Die," and "Parent Trap." The first two are CorrinxBeruka stories focusing more on developing Beruka's character. "Parent Trap" is a story about Setsuna and her dealing with the problems of the Deeprealms making her miss her daughter's childhood. I know none of those are really in the same style as "The Love of the Mother," but hey, I wrote them, so maybe if you liked this, you'll dig them too. Enjoy. ~Sean