Witch's Intuition: Coven AU.

Author's note: Set before the show in a world where Fiona isn't ill and Cordelia isn't blind. Stars Fiona and Acantha. Cordelia, Myrtle and The Axeman will be slightly involved, as may Marie Laveau. Delphine, Hank, Kyle, Luke, Joan, etc. will not be part of this story arc and the girls (Zoe, Madison, Queenie, Nan and Misty) may have bit parts but no story arc. [Rated M due to unforeseeable future chapters].

Acantha has always been a misfit. After an incident rendering the Academy no longer habitable, she leaves the Coven, certain she's better off on her own, when she runs into the Supreme, with whom she shares a strange bond. This is her story.

I'd squandered what little power I was permitted at Miss Robichaux's Academy. My more than dubious past and inability- or rather my refusal, to hide and deny my previously questionable ways had gifted me a reputation of being untrustworthy. They looked into my eyes and called me sister, but I knew I would never truly be one of them. Their obvious distain was hidden behind their courteous smiles, but it was not hidden well. I had been accepted into them by the law of the coven, and it read that way on any piece of documented paper found in the building, but their eyes harboured uncertainties and their lips whispered lies as I passed them in the corridors and joined them at the table each evening. The limited power and respect I'd been afforded did not help my situation. It was clear, though it went unmentioned, that even the established, trusted mentors did not look upon on me favourably or as an equal. So it was only natural then that the other girls saw no reason to treat me as such. Cordelia, the Headmistress, had no faith in my abilities- that was clear. And it was fine by me; my hopes and expectations of finally finding a place I could belong were quelled shortly after realising the reality. A bitter disappointment as everything else in my life had seemed to be. I couldn't be angry with the way my situation had unravelled, but I didn't have to be pleased with it either. So I took their pity and unwillingness to be civil. I took their whispered lies and daggered eyes. I took their nervousness and disgust. I took it all with a smile and waited, much longer than any of the other girls had had to wait, until my time finally came, and I was properly rewarded with the power I deserved. But that day never came to fruition. Miss Robichaux's Academy was a mass of charred bones, smoking in the ground before the year was up. If you listened to the girlish titters and hushed accusations, you may believe it was I who had started the blaze. Rumour has it that fire flew from my eyes, like bats from a cave, as my bitter tears turned to glowing sparks; that I'd been scorned one too many times, and in a fit of rage, was witnessed to have been dancing, in a catatonic trance, with a candlestick in my hand, igniting everything I graced until I was encircled with flames; that the smoke had come first, slithering from my poisonous mouth like a noxious reptile ready to devour every set of lungs that roomed here; that I'd contacted The Devil and bargained my soul in return for the ashes of the Academy and the vision of the blaze burned into my mind forever. These are, of course, nothing more than elaborate stories, but I'm not here to convince you of that. I've spent too many of my days trying to convince stupid people of things their inferior brains couldn't help but accept as truths. My skin is far too thick, and bruised with many other, more fatal attempts to damage me, to be truly affected by tainted whispers. I've learned to ride on their elevated tales and reap the rewards; the fear and respect- but I cannot take credit for burning that hell hole to the ground- though I would commend anyone who came forward and admitted to doing so. At this young age my power wouldn't have allowed it. No, my crimes ascend the bounds of mere arson. With the chance introduction of one woman my life changed forever. My potential was finally witnessed and I was finally granted my deserved power.

After the Academy burned we were homeless. The school masqueraded as a legal institution, for which admittance was signed by parents or guardians- for the under-aged, at least. This meant that Cordelia was now responsible for finding the handful of pupils somewhere safe and clean to live, whilst being protected enough to practice magic without attracting any unwanted attention. The Council was, of course, summoned. They spent four days lounging around in our hotel suite, drinking Martinis and trying to point the finger. It didn't take the full four days, however, for Myrtle Snow to gather all her witch's intuition and channel the blame straight at me. The moment she entered the room her dark, sunken eyes popped in horror as soon as they met my face. Later that evening I heard her comforting a distraught Cordelia. 'Don't worry, little bird, we'll find a way to prove it.'

'How can you be so certain? No one's found any evidence to suggest Acantha had anything to do with this. I think you must be paranoid,' Delia sniffed.

'Don't be so blind, child. Don't you see it in her eyes? She has another residing inside of her and it won't be long before it pops right out and devours us whole, with the effort it takes a fat child to eat a fistful of caramel corn.'

Cordelia rolled her eyes. 'She's a 19 year old witch. And not even a particularly powerful one at that. You're too quick to judge.'

'Delia, her name literally means 'thorn'. And in our sides she has thrust herself, and we will bleed, my dear.'

'And even for a witch, you're too superstitious.' Cordelia shook her head, but patted Myrtle's hand, lovingly and smiled. 'I'll admit she's a little different. None of the girls have taken to her-'

'-Well that's evidence enough in itself!' Myrtle proclaimed, standing from the bed and lighting a cigarillo. 'Never doubt a witch's intuition, my little lamb.' She blew a puff of smoke messily into the air.

'And never use the flimsy opinions of a bunch of teenage girls to help decide the fate of one accused of arson. We both know that wouldn't be a valid point to make in front of The Council.'

Myrtle hung her head and returned to the bed, petting Delia's hand. 'You're right, my darling, of course you are. But I worry greatly about the kind of witch we've allowed into our Coven. It's a wonder you all made it out alive.'

I stayed until the four days were up, simply because the room was under the strict guard of Myrtle's albino henchmen, but made the decision that very night that I would be fleeing at my first opportunity. I had decided to accept the thing I'd known long ago; some wolves do not go with the pack. And some witches do not survive in a Coven. The first breath of fresh air that burst through my lungs finally rid the overpowering stench of burning walls and sulphur. The second filled me with a clear idea of where I wanted to go. My feet walked me, steadily, through the streets of New Orleans, all the way to the gated charred remnants of Miss Robichaux's Academy. The gates had been wrapped in yellow police tape, but it now just hung there, blowing intermittently in the breeze. The investigation had been closed. Officials had said there was no foul play, but Myrtle Snow had rebuked that statement on the grounds of them being unable to determine if the candle had fallen, as they had said, or been used as a torch. In the eyes of human law I was never even under question, but in the eyes of Wiccan Law I was already burning at the stake for my crimes.

I climbed the steps up to the black rubble. Areas of the mess were still smoking, others had remained almost intact. The front wall of the house had fallen and revealed the sitting room, singed and mangled by the force of the fire. Portraits of marred, melted predecessors of the Supreme hung, mournfully, wilting in horror and sadness- some torched completely to ashes. It was a shocking state to see the beautiful grand old house. It was as though no one had loved it in its hundreds of years of sturdy asylum. As though it had been abandoned and abused, despite so many women seeking safety and education behind its walls.

I sauntered through the debris, coal rubbing off against my boots as I kicked the fallen ceiling away. I heard the gates squeak and turned to see a woman approaching the house, a look of horror on her face. 'I go away for five goddamn minutes and she burns down my house. Jesus Christ, Delia,' she muttered to herself, through gritted teeth. I walked out through the gaping hole where a wall once stood, down the charred piles of crap to the steps of the house.

'Who're you?' I asked, as the blonde pulled off her sunglasses in order to really soak up the horror of it all. She stepped a black Jimmy Choo or two up the path towards me.

'The Wicked Witch of the West,' she smirked. 'What are you doing on my property?'

I shrugged. 'Just came to see if I could save any of my things.'

'And?' she asked, continuing her lazy sashay down the path.

'It's all trashed,' I shook my head and sighed, sitting on the darkened steps.

'No shit, kid,' she muttered, joining me. She ran her fingers through her hair, sighing.

'If you own this place, how come I've never seen you around?'

She sighed again, this time I knew it was aimed at my entire existence. 'I had stuff to do, a life to live. I'm sorry, who are you?' Her lips pursed and her dark eyes narrowed, questioning.

'Acantha Starling. Witch,' I said, a little too cockily, hoping to attack her investigative expression. I lit a cigarette and blew a plume of smoke in the air, smiling.

'Fiona Goode. Supreme,' she purred deeply, raising her eyebrows. I dropped my gaze and fixed my superior expression to that of abashed idiot. She snorted her laughter into the awkward silence. 'Acantha? Jesus. Your parents didn't give you a chance, did they?' I shook my head, scoffing. 'Where's Delia?'

'Cinnamon Hotel, with the other riff raff,' I snorted, standing up and taking another drag of my cigarette.

'Riff raff? Huh,' she smirked, standing to her feet. 'If I was my daughter I'd be chastising you for being disrespectful towards your sister witches.'

'Those bitches aren't my sisters- by blood or by magic.'

'Oh dear,' Fiona mocked. 'What happened? Did they pick on you?' She laughed and flashed her perfectly straight white teeth. I turned to face her straight on. She was a lot taller than me, but I put most of that down to the ridiculous height of her shoes. Her power bounced off me, radiating from her. I'd never known such power, and I'm not ashamed to say it scared me. But I wasn't about to let her know that.

'They hate me. And I'm not in the habit of changing to fit other people's whims.'

She scoffed back at me. 'Well, as admirable as that is, there's a reason we witches form Covens. Strength in numbers, kid.'

'I don't need a Coven.'

'Oh, you're immortal?' she questioned knowingly, raising her eyebrows with a sarcastic glare. 'Hot damn! What a rarity it is to have an indestructible little darling in the vicinity. What an honour, for a mere old Supreme like me. Thank you for gracing me with your presence, oh eternal one.' I glared back at her. She stepped towards me with force, her fist balled in frustration. 'It's an ignorant and stupid little girl who turns from the protection of a witch as capable as Cordelia to be on her own. Any witch that does that deserves what she has coming to her,' she spat through gritted teeth.

'And what's that?' I hissed back at her.

'I don't know. We've never allowed anyone so stupid anywhere near our Coven. Get in the goddamn car.' She waved her fingers gracefully towards the blacked out BMW sitting in front of the house.

'I'm not going back there.'

'Listen here, kid. You'll do exactly as I tell you. Either out of respect for the one person in this whole wide world who could make your life a living hell, or because I will simply make you do it, against your will, with as much effort as it takes to flick on a light switch. Now, get in the goddamn car.' Her face was inches from mine, her arm outstretched towards the car. Her eyes were hypnotic, physically filling with rage right in front of me. I threw my cigarette into the pile of blackened waste and stomped, childishly, to the car. I'm embarrassed to recount this so honestly, as I was yet to truly understand the respect and reverence owed to a Supreme. I was a childish girl, naïve, and convinced I was better than those around me- even Fiona Goode. But how rapidly that all changed when I started to really understand magic and what having that power meant, all with the help of the reigning Supreme.