National Anthem

by EchoFallsFromGrace

Foxxay 1926 AU. There's a war brewing.

1. National Anthem

1926 AU

Rated T

Word Count: 12,192

"The city won't need you tonight, darling. Come away from the window." Cordelia Goode whispered through the patter of the rain. She tugged on Misty Day's shawl, begging her away from the glass panes. On nights like these, she was restless. It was too dark to see anything through the thick foliage, too noisy outside to hear anyone coming through. She felt blind all over again.

And she didn't want to lose Misty.

Not again.

The swamp queen turned away and walked into Cordelia's arms, a small smile on her angelic face. She interlocked her fingers with the alchemist's lithe ones, leaning into the woman's body. "I wish ya wouldn't worry so much." She breathed out.

"But I do anyway. And I always will."

"There's no need, Delia." Misty shook her head, her hair wild in the heat and moisture of the surrounding swamps, but she didn't argue any more.
She dragged the older blonde to the middle of the room, hands around her waist and they stood there, dancing in place to the victrola playing in the corner. It was the only thing that soothed them both when the wind howled.

"Where are Kyle and Zoe?" Misty asked quietly, eyes closing against Delia's touch.

"I sent them home for the weekend. You know how Kyle hates the storms." Cordelia said softly, her fingers anchoring in the girl's hair.
She froze as thunder cracked outside, and the swamp witch laughed breathlessly, almost nervously, against her neck.

"Hey, I got ya."

Cordelia nodded softly.

The thunder reminded her of her mother. It reminded them both of the commanding blond, the lightning as striking as her words. And with lightning and thunder the witch came. It was almost normal now for Cordelia to jump out of fright or cower by the door when it rang out over their heads, as it flashed outside, throwing shadows across the wooden floors. Fiona Goode wasn't one to be messed with, and they'd both managed to piss her off.

It stormed too often for Cordelia's taste.

"I hate this."

"The storm?" Misty asked softly. "Or the waitin'?"

"Both." Cordelia hid in Misty's neck. "Neither." The necromancer tightened her grip on the older blonde. "I'll be honest. I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Everything." The alchemist whispered. "Being found. Being burned."

The swamp queen raised the woman's chin up so that her blue-green eyes met black. "I can't die. And as long as you're with me, neither will ya."

"You sound extremely sure of yourself, Misty Day."

"I've come back before to save ya. And I will again. However many times it takes."

Cordelia gave her a watery smile and Misty reached down between them to bring the woman's knuckles to her lips, kissing her skin softly. It was marred by ink, blurred where she'd written "RISE" on her fingers, like she did most mornings, trying her best to imitate Misty's own tattoos. The alchemist sighed as she shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips.

The first time Cordelia'd written those words on her knuckles, it'd surprised even her. She'd woken up early and sat up, and seeing Misty sleeping besides her, both their skins marred by bruises and burn marks and memories from the night before, she'd reached for her pen. Delicately, with her tongue sticking out in concentration, she'd written the letters on her fingers, doing her best to copy the font on Misty's permanent ink. She'd laid back down, her front to Misty's back as she let the marks dry, and as soon as they were, the black tendrils leaking into her skin, she'd interlocked her fingers with Misty's and dragged her closer.

Misty had practically broken down seeing them that morning. Soft kisses and arms wrapped tightly around waists weren't enough. She'd whispered an "I love you", her first, into Cordelia's ear as she squeezed her hands, blurring the ink.

Cordelia flinched, her eyes slamming shut as another crack of thunder rang overhead.

Misty raised her chin. "None of that, Delia, none of the flinchin', you're safe." She passed a hand through the older woman's hair. "Remember? You're safe, you've got a piece of me with ya." Her fingers pulled out a red hawk feather from between Cordelia's strands, dark against the blonde, attached with a bow and a few beads. "You've got me with ya, my darlin' firebird."

Cordelia nodded furiously, tears threatening to spill. Misty leaned in and kissed her softly, the ghost of a touch, as the alchemist's fingers wrapped tightly around her shawl, as another flash of lightning illuminated them.

The rain stopped falling in the middle of the night, but Cordelia didn't hear it, wrapped up in Misty as she was.

They awoke with the dawn, water dripping from the gutters, Misty bleary eyed and Cordelia wary, as she always was. The swamp queen dragged the alchemist to her, walking backwards until she felt the door give way behind her. She sat down, tucking her legs beneath her, and leaned back against Cordelia's knee. The older woman always stood.

They watched the sun rise over the swamps, Misty holding her hand in the air so that Cordelia could interlock their fingers. A ritual they'd grown to cherish ever since Misty'd figuratively brought Cordelia back to life.

After the swamp witch's burning, after Misty had saved her from between Fiona's clutches, before the temporary tattoos, the older blonde had been reluctant to step outside. She'd been afraid of her own shadow. She'd become a shut in in the wide open spaces of the swamp. She stayed up worrying late into the night and didn't wake until noon, and Misty'd stayed with her every morning, even though she herself loved watching the marshes wake.

But one day, not long ago, she'd woken Cordelia at the first sign of the sun and kissed her and told her everything would be alright as she pulled the woman to the door. Cordelia had been shaking all over, begging Misty, who would hear none of it. The alchemist had stayed at the doorway, fingers grasping the wood so hard the younger witch thought it would splinter beneath her. And she'd sat down and lifted her hands to the sky, and Cordelia had taken the hint, taken her hands.

And they'd watched the sun come up above the horizon. And Cordelia's breathing had settled down and her tears had stopped and after the swamps were truly awake, an hour later, she'd leaned down and placed a soft kiss in her lover's wild curls.

Misty stood and walked back inside, headed for the victrola in the corner of the room. She lifted the needle and put it in place, and music lifted through the shack. Cordelia smiled at her from the doorway.
Before Cordelia, Misty hadn't known what the device was. And now, she listened to as much classical music as she could. And her favorite would always be the ballet, The Firebird. The first she'd listened to. The first they'd listened to together.

It hadn't been long after Misty had met the coven, the woman still under her mother's care, still at the academy that now sent shivers down both their spines. Not long before they ran from the horrors. Cordelia'd tugged Misty up to her room and they'd sat down, and she'd shown the younger woman her discs, the phonograph. The swamp witch had an affinity for the finer things in life. That was months ago, what seemed like years to Misty now.

She hummed past Cordelia, throwing her a wink, and the older blonde just blushed. The alchemist walked to Misty's side, hating being further from her than she needed to be.

"Get on the bed."

"Oh, are we-?"

"Yeah, I want to get it finished." Misty glanced up at her as she rustled through her cabinets. She stood up straight momentarily to give Cordelia a long kiss and a shove towards the corner of the room. Cordelia did as she was told and sat down on the mattress, her knees to her chest.

Misty made her way over and nudged the older woman. "Lie down, come on."

She hovered above Cordelia, a small grin on her face, and pulled the woman's shirt up and over her head, leaving her bare chested in the heat. She kissed a collarbone and settled down on her stomach, between Delia's legs.

Her fingers traced the beginnings of a tattoo she'd begun along Cordelia's ribs. The blonde had begged her, and she'd obliged. She'd been working on it for days with breaks at a time, the pain sometimes too much for Cordelia's bones. She'd only gotten a few letters done.

Cordelia watched her trace her contours and smiled softly. "My mother will kill me if she sees this."

"Isn't that why you're gettin' it?" Misty looked up. "To spite her?"

"In part." The alchemist closed her eyes. "I want to be closer to you."

Misty kissed her burning skin and reached for the needle she'd dropped between the sheets, the ink bottle not far.

Cordelia hissed against her as she began, but her tolerance grew and soon she was quiet, muscles jumping underneath Misty's touches.

The swamp queen worked diligently for the better part of an hour, living off of Cordelia's breathing. She'd learned, as a necromancer, to cherish every taken breath, and she glanced up regularly, every time the other blonde gasped.

She placed a wet cloth against Cordelia's reddening skin and looked up into dark eyes. "That's it for today."

"You sure?"

"I want ya to be able to move around, Delia."

The alchemist nodded, admiring the new ink on her unfinished markings. She pulled Misty back to her as the necromancer stood and kissed her deeply, her fingers splaying at the dip in the girl's back. She intended to go further, but she let out a gasp as her tender skin burned against her bones.

Misty laughed against her cheek. "Let me get ya some cold water and a cloth. I'll be right back."

"I can do it myself."

The swamp queen quirked an eyebrow at her lover, but grabbed her shawl and an empty bucket anyway. She winked at Cordelia before opening the shack's door and stepping outside. She left the door ajar, not severing the connection between her and the older woman.

Cordelia settled back down against the pillows and traced the outline of her added letters, whispering the intended words into the Louisiana heat. She'd chosen them carefully with Misty hovering above her one night, breathing into her ear as the swamp witch sucked on her pulse point.

She glanced sideways as Misty came back in, a small smile on her lips as she noticed that the woman was humming again. From where she was, it sounded like Swan Lake, Misty's favorite ballet to dance to.

"It's gonna storm again." The swamp queen said quietly, making her way over to the older blonde. She glanced back behind her, a frown on her face. "Sometime tonight, I'm guessin'."

"So you won't have to go out, right?" Cordelia whispered.

"I'm goin' to have to, at one point. There's somethin' brewin'. I can feel it in my bones." Misty shook her head and kneeled by the bed. "And ya know how it gets if I stay away too long, if I don't listen to my gut."

"Yeah, but-"

The necromancer was blunt. "No, Delia." She dipped a clean cloth into the cold water and pressed it gently against the alchemist's bleeding skin. There was an long pause as Cordelia's black eyes bore into her.

"Will ya want to come with me?"

The older blonde shifted beneath her touch. "I hate leaving the swamps." She took a breath. "But yes."

Misty smiled warmly and kissed the pads of her fingers. "Good."

They both turned their heads as there was a peck at the window, and Cordelia tensed underneath Misty's hands.

"Hey, it's okay." The wild blonde kissed her, stood up, and opened the glass panes. A dove flew in, and they both gasped. It was rather unusual to see the bird in the swamps, but they both knew what it meant.

Cordelia sat up on her elbows. "Another one?"

"Yeah." Misty answered.. "From Myrtle, like usual."

"Throw it away."

"I told ya somethin' was brewin'. This might be it." The necromancer protested.

Cordelia scowled. "Her letters never bring anything good. Throw it away, Misty."
"Not this time, Delia."

The swamp queen's fingers crept underneath the envelope's lip despite her lover's earlier qualms. She ripped out the salmon colored letter and her blue-green eyes scanned the letter.

"What does it say?"

Misty glanced up, alarmed.

"She's invited us to the house. Tomorrow."

OOOOOOooooooOOOOOO

The glass shattered against the chimney's brick wall, the deep amber liquid inside dripping into the fire and flaring up into the room, blasting off heat momentarily.

"Where the hell is he?" The alluring blonde paced the salon angrily, heels digging into the rug. "And will you stop playing? Dammit man!"

Across the room, in a dark corner, an older gentleman sighed as he detached his lips from his saxophone. He glanced sideways at the blonde, his lips curling up into a sneer. "You yelling won't change anything, baby doll." He shrugged as his fingers fiddled with his instrument. "He'll be here."

"That's what you said three hours ago." She snapped back. She glanced over her shoulder. "Drink."

"If you stopped smashing them-"

"Did I ask for an opinion? Get me a goddamned drink, you idiot."

The young dirty blonde scowled at her, but did as she was told, moving to the bar by the door. The redhead sprawled on the couch smirked at her over the edge, her legs crossed at the ankles.

Fiona Goode's grimace deepened and she stabbed a finger at the girl on the sofa. "If I were you Kaylee, I'd wipe that smug grin off your face, or you'll be wiping the brandy off the goddamn walls with a goddamn toothbrush." The girl raised her hands in surrender.

"Madison. My drink."

The blonde flicked her wrist easily, and the glass went flying into Fiona's hand as she sat back down, across from the redhead.

Fiona drank deeply, the liquid shining in the fire's light. It reflected just as deeply in Kaylee's eyes as she watched avidly. Both her and Madison winced as she set the glass down rather harshly on the coffee table.

"I'm giving him ten minutes." The woman said loudly. "And then I kill him."

"If he comes back." The man in the corner pointed out, raising an eyebrow at her.

"He'll wish he was dead."

Madison raised her voice as she glanced over her nails. "I don't see why we keep him around. The man's mute."

"Because that idiot of a redhead believes him." Fiona snapped.

"It's easy for him to lie, he doesn't have a tongue." Kaylee added. "You, on the other hand, would do a shit job."

Madison opened her mouth to retort, but the axeman cast her a warning glance as he pointed at Fiona's back. The young witch scowled and turned away.

The academy's doorbell rang throughout the white halls, empty as they were this early in the morning. Fiona raised an eyebrow at the salon's inhabitants, waiting. But Kaylee ignored her dark hazel eyes and Madison looked away, suddenly whistling.

Angrily, the Supreme barked. "Hank!"

From across the academy's first floor, there was the sound of breaking glass and a loud "fuck". They watched as the man trudged into the salon, wiping a now bloody towel against his hands.

"What?" He snapped.

Fiona waved her hand. "Hank, the doorbell. It rang."

"I'm not your dog."

"I'd get the door, if I was you, fellow." The axeman said quietly from his corner. Hank glanced at him darkly and did as he was told, albeit noisily.

The Supreme took another greedy gulp from her tumbler.

He came back moments later, a letter between his hands.

"The mailman? Already?" Madison raised her eyes to the clock above the mantelpiece.

"It was attached to a dove."

"Have you been drinking again?" Kaylee asked sweetly.

Fiona froze. "A dove, you say?"

"Yeah, you know, a bird? It flaps and coos and shits?" Hank snapped.

"Leave the letter, and get back to cleaning glasses." The alluring blonde commanded. He threw the envelope at her feet as he sneered and slammed the doors shut behind him.

Madison flicked it to her with a wave of her fingers, her eyes shining. "Maybe it's the rest of my paycheck."

The older man frowned. "Paycheck?"

"Yeah, for that baby I lifted out of that window in Los Angeles. The man said he'd send me the other half by mail, once he was done cutting up the brat."

"Oh." Kaylee grimaced.

"I agree with Kaylee." The axeman sighed. "A proper man does the entire job by himself. He doesn't get a girl to help, even if she's a witch."

"It ain't from a baby killer, you nitwits." Fiona growled, grabbing the letter from in between Madison's fingers. "This is from Myrtle Snow."

"The old bat?"

"I wonder what she wants." The blonde smirked, ripping at the letter. Her face turned to stone as her hazel eyes scanned the paper. She looked up, her grin had fallen off her face.

"Baby doll?" The axeman stood, and gingerly place his hand on her hip. "Everything okay?"

"The bitch invited herself here for a meeting."

OOOOOOooooooOOOOOO

"Where you going?

Queenie's steps faltered, and she turned slowly to face the voodoo queen standing in her shop's doorway. "Back to the academy. They'll be looking for me."

Marie Laveau sneered at the girl on the sidewalk and crossed her arms. "Girl, you're gonna have to pick a side. You can't be flirting back and forth across town all the time. Especially to a white neighborhood."

"You wanted me to spy for you."

"Are you spying for me, or are you spying for them?" The immortal asked, raising her eyebrows. "Let's be honest, Queenie. You're shifty."

"I know where my loyalties lie."

"Then where do they lie?" Marie waited a beat before laughing coldly. "You don't even know how to answer. And you wonder why I don't let you in on the meetings."

Queenie scowled. "I know where my loyalties lie." She repeated. "With you. They don't give a fuck about me."

"Rightly so. You black, they white." Marie stepped up to her. "They have the supreme, divine right!" She barked out a laugh.

The black girl shifted her weight from foot to foot awkwardly. "They could teach us something."

"They're not interested in teaching you, Queenie. They're trying to make you a slave, all over again."

"I can get secrets out of them. Learn what the others are doing."

"The others."

"Yeah, the Lalauries and the Ramseys. The witch hunters, the racists, and the religious nuts alike." Queenie explained.

"Girl, you know nothing. I don't need a white cracker Supreme to tell me what's going on in my backyard." Marie laughed again, cold as it rung through the almost empty street.

Queenie faltered. "What?"

"I got," Marie's next words came out mockingly. "-Madame Delphine Lalaurie upstairs, locked up, like the crazy bitch she is."

"You what-?"

"She came round the other night while you were out with your sister witches, disrespecting me, talking shit." Marie crossed her arms. "I took care of her. She's sitting up up in a cell, which is better than what she deserves."

Queenie was sputtering. "B-but what did the family say?"

"They've threatened. But they ain't gonna be a problem anytime soon. I have power. They're mortals."

"Do they know?"

"Your precious Coven?" Marie raised an eyebrow. "I guess they have. Myrtle Snow's sent a letter over, calling for a meeting at the academy."

The black girl frowned. "Myrtle? She's been exiled. Fiona hates her, how did she call for a meeting at the academy?"

"I don't know, and I don't wanna know." Marie smirked. "But I'm gonna go, just to see it all come crashing down."

OOOOOOooooooOOOOOO

"This is a big mess, you have to admit." Luke Ramsey sighed in his hands. "I can't believe it."

"You're going to have to, young man." The warlock on the other side of the couch raised his eyebrow. "Welcome to the Coven."

"Oh, Quentin. I do wish you wouldn't call us that." Myrtle Snow shook her head. "We are far from the evil, evil witches that inhabit our high esteemed academy, now but a shell of its former self." She sighed as she reached for her cup of tea. "I had such high hopes for the school, if only Fiona had stayed away."

"Yes, well," Pembroke sniffed from the corner. "She didn't, and that's that. I don't see why you sent out those letters."

"To find out what happened to dear Spalding, Pembroke." Quentin said from the sofa. He let out a shaky laugh. "The man was found dead, for god's sake."

"And most likely, the Coven has something to do with it." Myrtle added. "Fiona would make an unnecessary move. Especially against the ones close to her."

From her seat by Luke, Nan spoke up. "You think she found out that he spied for us?"

Myrtle nodded as she took a sip from her porcelain cup.

"This is bad. This is real bad."

"Luke, please, control yourself." The redhead sighed as the boy began to pace the room.

Pembroke sniffed again. "I'm sure you knew the risks when you left your family for ours."

The young man glanced at Nan, and nodded shakily. "Yes, of course, but I didn't think someone would get murdered. Someone so close."

The room fell quiet as his words fell heavy over its inhabitants. He walked to the young witch's side and took her fingers in his. The clairvoyant glanced up and gave him a small smile before turning to the redhead, the exiled witch.

"Do you think they'll come?" Nan asked quietly.

"I have no idea." Myrtle Snow replied.

PART II

It was raining again, like Misty had said it would, but Cordelia didn't really care. She'd sit as long as she had to, waiting for the necromancer to come home. Like she did every night.

Though she'd told the wild blonde she'd go with her, Misty herself had told her to stay in, knowing she felt uncomfortable, unsafe, when she went anywhere past the familiar foliage. So she'd left Delia to sit on the porch's steps with a kiss and a quick nibble on her earlobe.

And it'd begun to rain not late after that.

Cordelia chewed on a piece of her hair as she counted the seconds and the minutes and the hours, sitting in the darkness. Misty'd left at midnight. It was almost four. It wouldn't take long for her to come home, she always came back before the sun rose.

The necromancer took these little trips three, four times a week. She went into the city and brought animals back to life, people who hadn't deserved it.

And most importantly, she fixed what the coven did, in the safety of her own shadows. It wasn't unknown that the group of witches Cordelia had once called home were a murderous bunch. To make money, they'd do anything. They'd already turned the academy into a speakeasy, and they were adept at finding odd jobs that only witches could do. They lit fires, confused people, helped murderers and thieves escape from the police.

They killed.

Cordelia couldn't be more proud of her blonde savior, trying her hardest to fix their mistakes, going against the set system.

And she couldn't stop herself from worrying. The coven had a target on their backs.

She glanced down as something nudged her foot, and she bit back a breath. Clyde. Misty's favorite alligator. A spry young thing that hissed at Cordelia whenever she got near him. But tonight, he gazed back at her with calm yellow eyes as he felt her worry in his scales. He slowly climbed up the steps, water dripping off his sides, and settled down besides her. A first for both of them.

The swamp queen had told the alchemist so many times that she could understand the reptile, and other animals around her, that it came with the powers. She swore up and down that she'd taught him English and that he had quite the dramatic flair.

And as ludicrous as it sounded, she believed Misty. Things that had happened in private between the gator and Cordelia suddenly came out of the necromancer's mouth. And the older blonde had actually started talking to Clyde on lonely nights, when her lover was out. She was now sure he whispered everything back to the cajun.

She lifted her fingers and traced the spines on his back, and he didn't snap at her, something she'd half-expected. With a shy smile, she fully placed her palm on his back, and he closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep as it poured a few feet away.

He left half an hour later, flicking his rough tail against her knee.
And she spied her wild blonde coming in through the foliage, boots sinking into the muddy ground, her smile growing as she herself noticed Delia, blond and pale against the rough wood of their home. The necromancer dropped her shoulder bag on the steps and took Cordelia's outstretched hands into hers, bringing her close.

Cordelia breathed her in. She smelled like running water and hot summers. "You're home."

"Of course." Misty kissed her jawline softly. "I always come home." She smiled and turned the alchemist around, pushing her through the door, hands reaching for the tie at the top of the older blonde's shirt.

"How did it go?" Cordelia asked quietly, eyes slipping shut.

"Well." The wild blonde answered softly. "It was fine." They didn't do anything this time 'round. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air. Cordelia pulled away to turn in Misty's arms, and gasped out.

"What?"

The older blonde grimaced. "You're tracking mud through my house, Misty Day. Get out and take those shoes off."

"Your house?" Misty's blue-green eyes twinkled as she grinned, watching Cordelia blush to her roots. She kissed her softly on the cheek before sauntering outside, hopping as she struggled with her long boots.
She walked back inside, finding the older blonde already settled on her side of their bed. She gave her a wry smile and laid down across from her, settling for a chaste kiss and interlocked fingers.

They laid there, gazing into each other's eyes, silence sacred to them both. Something they did often. They sat there, and they watched one another. It was enough for them.

Misty felt her eyelids droop, the back of her eyes burning as she struggled to stay awake. Cordelia laughed breathlessly in her ear and nudged her. Taking the hint, the necromancer turned around, letting the older blonde mold her front to her back. Even though she was the taller, the stronger of the two, she loved feeling Cordelia's heart reverberate through her back. She found comfort in the soft, steady beatings. She fell asleep with Cordelia's arms wrapped around her waist, her own fingers around her wrists, keeping her close.

They awoke for the sunrise, Misty watching it, leaned in against Cordelia's knees, her own to her chest. And as the last of the morning birds tweeted, the alchemist glanced down at her.

"You need a bath."

"Pardon?"

"The storm wrecked havoc on you." Cordelia cocked her head to the side. "And as much as I love the earthy smell, it gets old really quick."

Misty scowled up at her. "Are ya callin' me dirty?"

"I'll get the water."

As Cordelia drew the bath, Misty unabashedly threw her clothes into a corner of the room, laundry for later. She stood behind the older woman, playing with the soft skin that showed every time her shirt rode up.

Cordelia nudged her off, but didn't complain as the touches returned. Misty wrapped her in a hug, her hand palming her unfinished tattoo.

"Ya should get in with me."

"No thanks."

"Come on, Delia." The swamp queen drawled out her name, purring against Cordelia's neck. "Let me get ya wet."

"Misty."

The necromancer laughed despite her lover's stern tone, kissed her cheek, and climbed into the tub. She dipped her head underneath the water and came back up, tresses wet and falling down her back. Delia reached for the soap and began washing her hair. The wild blonde, tamed, hummed at the feeling of the woman's nails against her scalp.

Cordelia's voice was soft. "Are we really going? To the academy?"

"If Myrtle's askin' for a meetin', it must be important."

"I don't want to go back there."

Misty turned slightly to gaze up into worried black eyes. "I know. Ya don't have to come."

"She expects me there."

"Ya don't have to come." Misty repeated. Cordelia shook her head, but didn't reply.

She helped the swamp queen out of the bath and toweled her off, her touches lingering on the girl's wet skin.

Misty tipped the woman's head back to gaze into her eyes. "Why would ya make me take a bath now, when today's our gardenin' day?"

"So I can take one with you tonight."

"I knew it."

Cordelia smiled and kissed her, her fingers running up the younger blonde's back.

After getting dressed and throwing on a sun hat, Misty dragged Delia out to their garden by her hips. They puttered around each other, tending to the plants that had suffered during the night, fixing them. Cordelia breathed spells she'd learned long ago, and Misty breathed life. They worked in considerable silence until the sun was high in the sky, until

Misty finally turned to watch Cordelia, question in her blue-green eyes.
"Show me?"

The alchemist turned and raised an eyebrow. "Show you what?"

"The names of the plants. In Latin."

Cordelia blushed and sidled up to Misty's side. She pointed down at a blue flower, her gaze on Misty's as the swamp witch looked down. "Iris giganticaerulea."

"Iris," The younger blonde paused. "Gigantictarantula."

The woman laughed. "Not exactly." Misty frowned, and Cordelia kissed her worries away under the noon sun. Misty, using her strength, easily picked the woman up and plaqued her against a tree, the alchemist's legs wrapping around her waist as she gasped out deliciously.

It took a few moments for Cordelia to pull her mouth away from the necromancer's. "Mist-the plants. First. Gardening."

The swamp queen groaned into her neck, and let her fall back to her feet, her forehead resting on the bark by Cordelia's head as the older blonde kissed her jawline.

"We need to do this now, Misty. If we don't, we'll lose them." Cordelia whispered into her ear. Misty nodded weakly.

With insurmountable self-control, she edged off Cordelia and turned back to pick up her watering can, knuckles white. The alchemist laughed silently behind her and bent down to breathe spells into a dying vine.

She felt Misty's burning gaze on her body, but said nothing.

The gaze reminder her so much of the first time she'd met Misty. She'd been blind then, an unfortunate accident during one of the academy's late night parties, drunks piling through the speakeasy's door like moths to a flame. Someone had bumped into her as she crossed to the staircase, and heavy proof alcohol had gone flying and she'd received it all in her eyes. It'd stripped away at her eyeball, and a few days later, she was blind, her eyes scarred. She could barely blink without it feeling rough.

And Misty had helped. With Myrtle's permission (when Myrtle had been around anyway, before the burning and her exile), they'd brought her sight back, through various spells and her life giving powers. And the first time she'd truly seen the necromancer, Cordelia had fallen in love with the same gaze she was giving her now.

Misty breathed out shakily, and she glanced up, alarmed. "What is it?"

"Clyde's come back. If ya want to go in, I'll distract him."

Cordelia turned to eye the alligator sidling up to them. He flicked his tail at her as he watched her, but said nothing. She shrugged. "I think we're good."

"But-I thought-" Misty's eyes darted between the two. "He doesn't like ya." She added lamely.

"Maybe not, but we have something in common." Cordelia looked up.

The necromancer frowned. "What's that?"

"We both love you."

Misty grinned, the sun shining off her hair, and Cordelia couldn't help but grin back. The wild blonde walked to her side and pinched her hip, her lips against her cheek.

"We can save the plants later."

"You're so bad, Misty Day."

"Only for ya, baby." The necromancer smirked and began to sway to an imaginary dance with the alchemist, who blushed and tried her best to stifle a giggle. The wild blonde buried her face in straight locks. "Hmm, let's work up a sweat."

"I've got enough of the sun to do that." Cordelia whispered back. "But I wouldn't object to that bath now."

Misty took a step back to gaze into black eyes. "You're coming."

"I have to, Mist."

"Cordelia-"

"No, don't 'Cordelia' me." The alchemist's fists landed on Misty's chest. "I have to. Even though I ignore it, even though I try to forget, that was my family. My home."

"-Was?"

Cordelia smiled sadly as she looked up into her swamp queen's blue-green eyes. "Yeah. Was."

Misty's hands wrapped around the woman's neck as she pulled her closer into a searing kiss. One that didn't break until they were well into their home, the door closed behind them and Cordelia pushed up against it. She scrambled to find the ties on the woman's skirt.

"Bath, Misty, bath first."

The wild blonde's voice was tight, a whine rumbling through her throat. "Delia."

"I swear to you, yes," Cordelia's voice was scattered in her ear. "But bath. First-" She let out a high pitched gasp as Misty's hand rubbed up against her, her fingers grabbing onto the girl's shoulders, nails digging deep.

"Ya sure ya can hold out that long?"

OOOOOOooooooOOOOOO

Misty's blue-green eyes were fixed on the blazon above the academy's doorway, her teeth gritted, jaw tight, knuckles white.

It wasn't a simple sigil, like hers, like the one she'd adopted. It was dark red and it had lions prancing and black crowns and the words had been etched into the white wood in swirly letters, complicated. She glanced sideways at Cordelia, who also had gazed up and now stared with such hatred that Misty was surprised the academy didn't catch on fire, didn't shake to its foundations.

Her question was blunt. "What does it mean."

Cordelia opened her mouth to answer, black eyes on the coat of arms, but she was interrupted by a dark timber. She shuddered visibly at the voice.

"It means 'move on'. Something you can't seem to do in this life. Or the next."

"Fiona."

"Hello, Cordelia. It's been a while." The Supreme smirked as she dragged on her cigarette, standing in the doorway. "I see you're still trailing your swamp gator by the tail. Or is that, ball and chain?"

"You're my ball and chain." The alchemist snapped, her voice threatening to break. "Let us through, we're not here for you. We're here for Myrtle."

"So I'd guessed." The Supreme raised an eyes to look up at her emblem, the words Salem Has Burned written in the wood, and she finally tilted her body sideways, barely enough room for them to move past her. "The girls will be happy to see you." Her eyes raked over Misty with disdain. "I'd wish you'd left your dog back at your bogs."

"Is it dog, or gator? Choose." Misty snapped as she thundered past her. Cordelia shot her a pleading look over her shoulder.

She's not worth it, Misty.

The necromancer blinked at her, understanding, but the scowl on her otherwise angelic face didn't leave.

Fiona moved past them, smoldering cigarette in hand. "Oh look, Hank, you've come out of your rabbit hole."

"I didn't come out for you, I came out for Cordelia. Madison saw you from upstairs." He added to the alchemist.

Misty stepped up and pushed Cordelia behind her back, her hands balling into fists.

"Would you look at that, the whole family's reunited. The husband. The wife." Fiona smirked as her hazel eyes landed on Misty. "The mistress."

Hank ignored the quip. "Move aside, girl. This is my wife."

Misty glanced over her shoulder at Cordelia, and seeing no pity, no mercy, there, turned back to spit in his face.

Hank's face contorted with rage. He raised his fist to strike at the swamp witch, but the wild blonde easily moved away and back handed him to the floor. She yanked his head up by the back of his hair.

"Call me 'girl', one more time."

"Misty-!"

The necromancer looked back at Cordelia, who began to shake her head at her, and she let Hank go. He fell back to the floor with an umph.

Fiona sighed, dejected. "You're useless, Hank."

"Which is why you get me to do the dirty work, baby doll." The axeman had appeared behind the Supreme, a smirk on his weathered face, his hands deep in his pockets. She smiled back at him as he let his gray eyes rake over Misty and Cordelia. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Cordelia."

"Save it." The alchemist said. "I'm not here for a chat. I wouldn't ever be here for a chat."

"Such finality." He raised his eyebrows. "It's not because we're enemies that we can't be civil."

"Is that what you tell your victims before you sever their heads from their bodies?"

He bowed mockingly. "My reputation precedes me."

Cordelia looked at her mother. "Is Myrtle here?"

"No. Not yet. She would be late to her own meeting. But the rest of us are here."

"The rest of us?"

Fiona smirked as she led them away from the foyer and into the salon, Hank following a few steps away like a wounded puppy, wary eyes on Misty.

Cordelia's breath caught in her throat and her hand grasped onto Misty's, squeezing tight from behind her back, away from prying eyes. "Marie Laveau. Queenie." The black girl looked away.

"Cordelia Foxx." The voodoo queen raised an eyebrow. "You and your anarchist are here, why am I not surprised? This reeks of the swamps."

"We were invited, just like ya." Misty replied, her chin high. The alchemist gazed at her, begging her to let her do the talking. The necromancer turned away hotly.

Marie continued. "I've also heard that the LaLauries and that Ramsey woman have been invited. And that, I will not tolerate. I will not leave here without a head."

"You already have a head, Marie. Delphine's."

"It's not enough."

"It will be." Fiona snapped back. "You're lucky I haven't gone into your shit headquarters and taken her back already."

The voodoo queen stood threateningly, her black eyes throwing sparks, as Queenie stood too. "You would dare?"

The Supreme was about to open her mouth when the doorbell rang. She turned, annoyed. "Get it, Hank."

The man glared back before moving to do what he'd been told to do.

Cordelia shifted to the back of the room, Misty following her, a protective hand on her hip as the older blonde's body shook in impatience and terror against hers. She glanced back at the swamp queen and whispered "Where's Spalding?". The necromancer shrugged, her eyes raking the room.

"Ladies, the LaLauries, and Joan Ramsey." Hank said coldly as he opened the French doors. Marie hissed in annoyance as the group came in.

At the first sign of the voodoo witch, Louis LaLaurie openly bristled, and his daughters grabbed him by the arms and waists before he could lunge towards the black woman.

"Father, please-!" Borquita pleaded.

"That bitch has your mother!"

"I'd listen to your girl, LaLaurie." Marie snapped. "Or you're gonna be joining her in my attic."

"There will be no bloodshed here. I just had the rug cleaned." Fiona growled, reaching for a tumbler. She held it up to the light and nodded at the newcomers. "To you four, and to you, Joan. God knows it took you a lot of strength to cross the threshold." She cackled before downing the scotch. Louis pulled on his suit jacket, face red from exertion.

Joan crossed her arms over her chest. "Why are we here?"

"You answered the call." Fiona said, putting her glass down. "Simple as that. Unfortunately, the ringleader, isn't here yet. She's late." She glanced at the axeman. "I should have her burned." He grinned, and Cordelia shivered against Misty.

"You're mistaken, Fiona. We are here."

The entire salon turned to the doors where Myrtle Snow stood in all her glory, flanked by Nan and Luke, Pembroke and Quentin. She strolled into the room, ice blue eyes going from face to face, emotions passive. She finally looked back at Fiona. "I didn't think this would work."

"Neither did I, I thought doves were passé, but I must have been mistaken." The Supreme replied easily. "You have some guts, asking for a meeting. You've been exiled."

"So I have. But I am here on a truce."

"You can't make a truce, you idiot, you've been exiled."

"And yet you haven't killed me where I stand. You must be somewhat curious?"

Fiona scowled. She turned to her lover. "We're going to need more chairs. And fetch the girls."

It took a few minutes, but by the time Hank and the axeman were done, the furniture had been removed and chairs added to make a neat circle. Marie boldly sat next to Fiona, who'd taken a seat across from Myrtle, dark hazel eyes watching her intently. Queenie had sat next to Madison and Kaylee, who easily ignored both her and Cordelia, though they blushed as the former headmistress walked by. Misty decided to stand behind her lover, fingers against her neck scratching her skin slightly, relaxing the alchemist.

The LaLauries sat as far as they could from the witches in the room, and Luke made sure to sit on the other side of Joan, not meeting her gaze, his hand in Nan's.

"I won't make a big speech," Myrtle said once everyone'd settled in. "Spalding is dead."

There was a pause.

"Fucking hell." Fiona hissed. "What did you do?"

Myrtle cocked her head to the side, mouth opening in a joyless smile as she laughed breathlessly.

Nan spoke for her. "We didn't do anything! He showed up on our doorstep, and died." Luke glanced sideways at her.

"If you'd like to proclaim your innocence, we'd love to hear it." Quentin added, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't see why we were called." Marie said loudly.

"We're trying to find the source of his death." Myrtle began. "We, at first, quite naturally pointed fingers at the rubble of the Coven," Fiona rolled her eyes. "But we figured it was too obvious. We've convened you all, because a man loyal to us, to the witches since the beginning of his line, has died."

"Look no further than our American anarchists." Fiona scowled. "They've been undoing all our work for weeks now."

"We don't kill, Fiona." Cordelia said. "We save."

"You didn't save the baby, did you?" Madison snarked from her corner.

Misty turned to her. "Ya should be ashamed of yourself."

"So should you." The actress raised an eyebrow. "You didn't get to save it."

"It's hard to bring something back when it's in pieces." Kaylee added with a smirk. Cordelia shivered as the Axeman basically giggled.

"We didn't kill Spalding." Misty echoed, staring down the two girls. "He was nothin' but nice to us." She growled. "If we had killed, ya'd have known it was us, I'd have left ya a nice little note, and a dead Supreme."
The alchemist glanced back at Misty, caution in her dark eyes.

Myrtle shook her head. "We know you didn't do it, chickies. We have a list of suspects, and you aren't on it."

"Who is?" Marie asked.

"You, first of all." Pembroke sniffed.

The voodoo queen raised an eyebrow mockingly. "Me?"

"You've kidnapped Delphine LaLaurie." Quentin laughed. "It seems to us like you're trying to steadily get rid of us all." Louis LaLaurie growled besides him.

"Anyone else?" Fiona deadpanned.

"The axeman."

"Oh?"

Myrtle continued, ignoring his smirk. "We all know Spalding had been in love with you, Fiona, since he came to his post as butler. And isn't the axeman your lover?"

"Are you saying Spalding got jealous?" Queenie asked, grinning.

Fiona stood, and the black girl's smile fell from her face. "I have one more suspect for you, Myrtle." The redhead raised an eyebrow, waiting. "You."

"I beg your pardon!"

"How dare you?"

"Oh my god."

Myrtle stood too, silencing the room. "Explain yourself."

"You don't think of yourself as an idiot, correct?" The Supreme asked, smiling viciously. "So you must have known about Spalding?"

"Elucidate. Elaborate."

"He was double crossing you, and you knew it."

Cordelia's head fell into her hands. "Oh no."

Pembroke and Quentin glanced sideways at the redhead. "You knew?"

"Nan might have said something." Myrtle Snow replied. "Why did you think I didn't allow him into meetings anymore?"

"Which would explain why we didn't get inside tips." Madison scowled.
Nan smiled triumphantly at her.

"Are we going to ignore the phoenix?" Marie snapped. "If I'm a suspect, so is she. She got a vendetta on the Coven, just like everyone else here does."

"It wasn't me!" Misty stiffened.

"Until we get proof, you're on the list, gator girl." Fiona smirked.

"You've forgotten to name the LaLauries." Luke added suddenly. His mother glared at him, and he looked down and away.

"Oh yes. Add them to the list." Marie laughed. "Have we named everyone, or did we miss someone?"

"How do you suggest we go about finding the killer?" The axeman asked.

"Truth serums."

Fiona rolled her eyes. "Oh for fuck's sake, Myrtle."

The redhead cocked her head to the side. "Are you insinuating that you won't take the potion?"

"Oh, I'll take your damn potion." The Supreme took a few steps forward, now nose to nose with the other woman. "And I'll pass your damn test. And you'll burn."

"Fair enough."

"Myrtle-!"

"No, Cordelia, if this is what it takes to find the murderer, then so be it."
The alchemist turned in horror in her seat to gaze at Misty, pleading with her, but the necromancer couldn't do anything.

"Are we quite done stabbing fingers at each other?" Fiona growled. "I need a goddamned drink."

OOOOOOooooooOOOOOO

"Where are Kyle and Zoe?"

"We asked them to stay home." Cordelia said quietly, accepting Myrtle's embrace. "He doesn't like the academy." She laughed nervously. "Neither does she. Not since they ran away from this place."

"Neither do you, baby bird, and yet you're here, in your old greenhouse."

The alchemist bit her lip as she drew back. "I had to come. You sent the letter for a reason."

"I'd expected the swamp girl, not you." Myrtle admitted. "I didn't want to put you through the memories, the misery."

"It's alright." The blonde shook her head. "Someone has died and we need to figure out who did it. Would you pass me that root?"

Myrtle sighed but did as she was told. It took her a few seconds, but she opened her mouth again. "How's Misty?"

"Fine. A little stressed. She's been sleeping well, but...not enough." Cordelia said quietly. "Not lately, anyway. She comes home around four in the morning when she goes out, and you know her," She let out a small laugh. "She's obsessed with the sunrise."

The redhead nodded, watching as Cordelia mixed ingredients together over a small fire, having volunteered to help make the potion, alchemy being her forte. She was lucky that Fiona hadn't thrown away her stores, and even though the nightshade was a little old, it would work. Myrtle would enchant the result, having more power in justice than Cordelia ever would.

"Who do you think did it?"

"Let the potion do its work, Cordelia."

The blonde glanced sideways. "Myrtle."

"The Coven. Always the Coven." The redhead replied quietly.

"You should have told us about Spalding. We could have helped."

"No. You couldn't have. The magick that was used..." Myrtle took a small breath. "Was much too powerful, even for your Misty Day. It couldn't have been the LaLauries, or Joan Ramsey."

"Voodoo?"

"Possibly. But it could easily have been your mother."

"Would an alliance be too much forethought?"

Myrtle shook her head. "Never." She put a hand on Cordelia's shoulder. "You shouldn't be here. I worry for you. And Misty. Fiona doesn't forget."

"You run a risk being here too."

"I've been running risks all my life, little dove."

Cordelia didn't respond, and instead sighed, irritated, at her workstation. "I forgot to bring my plant pouch. I always bring it in town, if I come to town, I haven't much since that one incident. And I didn't think I'd need it today. I'm an idiot." She smacked her palm onto the counter weakly, closing her eyes.

"Incident?"

The alchemist bit her lip. "We went out at night, about two months back. Misty was doing her job and I needed to stop by the apothecaries for some stuff you just can't find in the swamps -don't worry I always leave money- and this car passed by the road, where we were. Madison was driving and Kaylee was hanging out the window, throwing goddamn fireballs while Madison flipped cars over." She took a deep breath. "They didn't see us, but I swore off coming into the city at night." She glanced outside. "And it looks like I'll be breaking that promise tonight."

Cordelia looked down, and after a moment, up at Myrtle. "I've missed you."

The redhead smiled sadly and took the woman in her arms, squeezing her tight. "So have I, but you're safe. Both of you. That's all that counts." She laughed suddenly. "Who knew the swamps could hide a couple so well?"

"It's nice there, you should visit."

"It's not safe. Trust Zoe and Kyle, and no one else. I've told you before."
The blonde nodded slowly. She passed her hands over the potion that was now boiling, muttering in Latin, and turned off the fire beneath it. "It'd be more potent if the ingredients were fresher, but I'm sure you can put quite the spell into it."

"You did fine." Myrtle cradled her head in her hands. "You always do. "She bent over the potion and closed her eyes, breathing her magick into the substance. It bubbled on its own, turning a variety of colors before settling on a deep red. It turned liquid, like wine, and Cordelia couldn't help the frown on her face.

The redhead stood straight. "A few drops will be just enough to work for but a minute. We want the truth, not secrets."

"Are you sure? I could give this entire thing to Fiona."

"Come on." Myrtle turned and led the alchemist out of the greenhouse and through the academy and its white walls.

"Is that-Is that Misty yelling?" Cordelia pushed past the redhead, threatening to spill the potion and ran into the salon. She gasped, alarmed, as Misty stood nose to nose with Fiona, anger and hate and rage in her blue-green eyes, mirrored in the older blonde's hazel ones.

"As soon as this is over, ya stay out of our lives, understood?"

"You can't stop me from walking around my city."

The cajun queen laughed. "Your city?"

"New Orleans is mine." The Supreme threatened.

"Not all. Ya don't have power in the swamps." The necromancer snapped.

"I have power wherever the darkness goes."

"That's what I said." Misty snarled.

"Watch your tongue. I burned you once, missy. I can do it again." Fiona spat.

Cordelia suddenly felt sick.

She remembered the moment like ashes in her mouth. It was after Myrtle's exile, as an added bonus to Fiona's call for loyalty. They'd tied the necromancer to the stake as she cried and screamed and uttered broken sounds, making Cordelia's name out of wrenched sobs. Fiona had made her watch, had held her head steady, fingers grasping at her chin. She'd watched Misty burn. She'd smelled her hair, her beautiful hair, singed to a crisp.

Fiona had held her, punishment for loving a rebel, an anarchist to her system. She'd held her daughter tight against her and let go only when Misty had stopped screaming, once the flames had burned out. And Cordelia, of her own will, heart broken and shattered at the bottom of her stomach, hadn't stood until the embers had died out. She'd walked home, her fingers black with charcoal, burnt rings in her hands. And she'd cried. For so long. She hadn't eaten, she hadn't slept. She longed for the comforting touch the feral blonde could never give her again.

She'd left the academy at night often, wandering through New Orleans, listening to jazz play out from open windows, desperately wishing for a familiar ballet or an opera. Desperately wishing for the pull of the dead witch's arms. Dark thoughts brewed in her mind for so long.

And one night she'd left during a storm, the tears mixing with the rain falling around her. And she'd somehow found her way back to the swamps, only crying harder at the memories, and she'd fallen to the forest floor, Misty's old shawl, drenched, tight around her shoulders. And she'd wanted to die. There, in the comfort of the familiar foliage, she'd wanted to die.

But a light, an aura, had tilted her head up, and she'd stared into Misty's eyes, eyeliner blurred from sleep deprivation and tears and Cordelia'd thought she'd gone insane. But Misty's hair was shorter, barely fell to her shoulders, and her nails were growing, her skin was bruised and parched and she was alive.

She'd brought herself back.

Misty hadn't said anything, had only helped Cordelia to her feet as the storm raged on and she'd dragged her like a guiding light in the night to her shack, a sight the older blonde had only seen once, twice, in Misty's memories when she touched her in the early mornings. And she'd opened her door and dragged Cordelia in, undressed her and hung their wet clothes as the alchemist stared openly, fingers itching at her skin, unsure of what to believe.

Misty'd walked them to the bed and laid Cordelia against her chest, and the woman'd listened to her heartbeat, and she knew the necromancer was truly back, and she'd begun to cry silently as Misty kissed her hair and her hands and everywhere she could reach without undoing Cordelia's grip on her arms, her waist.

And when she'd woken up, the wild blonde was still beneath her, and she'd smiled for the first time in weeks as her fingers traced circles on Misty's new tattoos.

RISE.

Jolted out of her memories, Cordelia's fingers grasped onto Misty's at Fiona's threat (she couldn't go back to that level of pain, she couldn't, she wouldn't survive it again), and the younger blonde squeezed back reassuringly.

I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going anywhere.

"I won't be so easily fooled this time 'round, Fiona." Misty hissed.

"You're an idiot, Misty Day. You will be, if I want you to be."

"Stop it!" Cordelia suddenly snapped. She rounded on her mother. "Take the damn potion, so we can all get the hell out of here."

Fiona regarded her with a hint of surprise in her eyes. "A backbone, Delia?"

"Don't call me that." The alchemist growled.

"I say we hold a party tonight, to celebrate our innocence." Madison called out, desperately trying to break the tension in the room. She massaged her neck, the skin under her scarf, delicately. She knew too well the extent of the Supreme's temper.

"Oh." Queenie's eyes lit up.

"Don't even think about it." Marie snapped. "We blacks ain't good enough for them crackers."

Fiona smirked. "Hell, Marie, if we're innocent, you're invited. The best seats in the house have your names all over them." She turned to Myrtle. "And we are innocent."

"Only the potion will tell." She raised her eyebrows behind her cat eye glasses and sighed. "I was about to call Spalding for glasses, but the poor man is gone. May he rest in peace."

"That's alright, let's just use our new butler. Hank?" The Supreme turned to Cordelia's husband, who'd been watching bleary eyed from the door. "You've been promoted. Get us glasses. Enough for everyone. We're all taking it. Yes, even you Joan."

He opened his mouth to speak, but a well placed look from the axeman and a show of his favorite instrument shut him up rather quickly. He shuffled out.

As soon as he came back, Kaylee stood to help him hand out crystal glasses to the salon's occupants. Myrtle passed behind her, potion smoking, to fill up each glass with but a few drops.

"Drink up bitches." Madison muttered.

Misty's eyes fixed her drink, distrust in her eyes, but she downed the glass as the others around her did too, Fiona barely hesitating, Myrtle finishing right behind her.

"Very well, the question that we will all answer is-"

"Oh no." Marie spoke up, pointing her finger at the redhead. "I ain't answering anything asked by a suspect. Get someone else to do it."
Raised eyebrows went around the room, before everyone turned to Luke Ramsey, still staring down his drink, a look of distate on his face. He glanced up, and suddenly blushed, taking a step back as he realized everyone was staring.

"Mr. Ramsey." Fiona said smoothly. "The question, please?"

"Oh. Oh, I-uh-"

Nan elbowed him and gave him a brave smile.

"Right." He cleared his throat. "Who here killed Spalding, the coven's butler?"

Glances were shared around the room, until finally, Kaylee laughed, Madison following nervously. They were silenced with a glare from the axeman.

"Well this is ironic."

"Oh, please." Fiona snapped. She stabbed a finger at Cordelia and Misty. "It's obviously Kyle, or Zoe."

"They're not even in Louisiana. We sent them to their home in Florida for the weekend." Cordelia snapped. "And this murder happened after they left. Just admit that you don't know what's going on and that it angers you that you don't."

"Well, we'll be going." Marie stood and motioned for Queenie to follow her.

"Sit your ass down." Fiona barked.

"Sit your own ass down, cracker bitch!" The voodoo queen thundered. "We didn't kill your man, we have every right to go. Queenie! Say goodbye to your sister bitches and get your rear in gear." The black girl glanced sideways at Kaylee and Madison, throwing them an apologetic look.

"Don't you dare leave this room without promising me my wife!" Louis LaLaurie snapped.

"Or what?" Marie cackled. "Or what?" She shook her head, still laughing. "You know where I live, Louis, come find me once you have something to offer me for that whale. We're out."

The two left in a flourish, the LaLaurie family struggling to fit back into their coats to follow them out. Borquita threw a soft 'sorry' at the witches in the salon as she closed the salon doors behind her, and Joan gave her son a measured glare, that he didn't return.

Cordelia shivered as Misty whispered in her ear. "Let's go home." The older blonde turned in her chair to nod at the necromancer, who took her hand and stood her up.

"Where are you two going?"

"Home, Fiona." Misty snapped. She gave Kaylee and Madison a measured glance. "And I'll know if we're bein' followed, so don't even try."

Cordelia quickly hugged Nan and Luke, whispering words of encouragements in their ears and after a quick nod at Myrtle, left the salon, Misty in tow.

"Cordelia!" Hank yelled after her. "Don't leave, please."

"She left a long time ago, bucko." The necromancer threw over her shoulder. Cordelia smirked softly, her fingers tightening around Misty's as the younger blonde slammed the door shut behind her. They thundered the downstairs, but Cordelia suddenly held Misty back.

"Wait, there's something I have to do."

She turned, and with fire in her eyes, flicked her wrist up to the sigil above the academy's doorway. The wood caught in flames, and using her finger, she burned out the word RISE above the embers.

PART III

The two looped back and forth through New Orleans, Misty looking back over her shoulder once in a while to make sure they weren't followed, and finally satisfied, she tightened her hold on Cordelia and led her back to the swamps.

The shack was a welcome sight for both women, and they hurried inside, as the night crawled in around them. Cordelia paused in the doorway as Misty turned the lights on.

The necromancer glanced down and smiled. "Hey Clyde. What did ya today?" She paused as he chirped up at her. "Oh yeah? That's good to hear."

Cordelia shook her head, laughing silently. "What did he do?"

"He went to see his sisters down at the bend." Misty smiled at her. She prodded his side with the heel of her boot and he took the hint. He rumbled once and slithered outside at a leisurely pace, golden eyes fixed on Cordelia. Misty's face fell as she closed the door behind him. "And he says ya look concerned. And ya do. What is it?"

"This, this whole thing, Mist." Cordelia passed her hand through her hair, fingers landing on the red hawk feathers in her strands. "That we haven't figured out what happened bothers me. Even if we had, and have, nothing to do with it. I'm not in league with the coven anymore, but I knew Spalding. I grew up with him."

"I understand."

"And that I wasn't able to help hurts me. It's almost like I failed him. And Myrtle." The alchemist closed her eyes. "And the worst part is, that deep inside, I don't want to find out what happened. I don't care, Misty. I don't care."

"Cordelia?"

"Maybe she's right. Maybe I'm no better than them." Cordelia whispered. "Maybe I belong to them after all. Me and my apathy." She continued bitterly, eyes fixed on her wedding ring as she fiddled with it. Misty took her hands in hers and tugged on her until she looked up into her blue-green eyes.

"I've told ya before, and I'll tell ya forever, ya are nothing like them, Cordelia Goode. Do ya understand me? It's not because ya want nothing to do with their troubles, that you're a bad person." The swamp witch snapped. She glanced down at the wedding ring and covered it with her fingers, taking a deep breath. "Ya know," She looked away, and Cordelia narrowed her eyes, waiting.

"No, I don't know." She urged.

"The ring. It doesn't have to mean Hank." Misty said quietly. "It can mean me."

Cordelia stared in wonder at the girl.

She'd been so angry when she'd first came back. She'd been angry at Fiona and the Coven and Hank, most of all. She'd taken to throwing things and raising her voice, not at Cordelia, of course, never at Cordelia, but she'd yell out into the night and kick over rocks, the unfairness of the world coursing, burning through her veins. But now, mentioning her husband, she just gazed evenly at Cordelia, her blue-green eyes calm.

"What are you saying?"

"Forget him. I, I've been savin' this for a while. Since before I was burned." Misty said. She scrambled to the porch and fetched something from a box on the table and walked back to Cordelia, sitting down next to her, knees touching.

She opened her hand and held it up for the alchemist to see. "It's not much. It'll never be as fancy as yours, and I'll have to bring it back to life once in a while." She laughed nervously. "But it can do its job well, I think. I'll wear it, if you'll be mine."

Cordelia gazed down at the makeshift ring in between Misty's fingers. She'd made it of vines and pliable branches, and she knew that once spring rolled around, the dying bud would flower. Every year. She looked up into the necromancer's eyes.

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

"We can't, technically. But I figured," Misty gave her a small smile. "That I make my own rules."

Cordelia leaned forward and kissed her softly, her fingers grazing her jaw. "Yes. A thousand times yes, my sweet, sweet firebird."

Misty smiled against her and wrapped her arms around her alchemist's waist, pulling her in closer and arching her into her mouth. Cordelia's hands played with the curls at the bottom of her skull and the swamp queen couldn't help the little giggle that bubbled out of between her lips as the older blonde grazed a sensitive spot.

She suddenly picked up the alchemist and spun her around, their lips locked as Cordelia yelped happily against her. She put her down softly, her arms tight around her waist and she gazed endlessly into warm dark eyes.

"You witches are funny things."

The two women suddenly turned, Misty taking a step forward to shield Cordelia against the dark voice, the dark character in their doorway.
Cordelia gasped slightly, her fingers tightening around Misty's arm.

"Papa Legba." Misty outright growled at the man.

"I seem to be mistaken. A witch and her dog are funny things."

"What are you doing here?" The alchemist's voice was soft, somewhat fearful.

"I decided to visit." His red eyes grazed over her silhouette, and then Misty's. "My domain is lonely, but for the sound of screams." The necromancer's frown deepened. "Though my new soul is silent. He gives respite to my burning ears."

Cordelia sagged against Misty's back, breathing hard. "You're the one who killed him. You killed Spalding."

The demon's eyes raked back to the older blonde's, and he grinned widely, his canines sharp. "Why, you wonder?" The two opposite him nodded, Misty's movements more confident than her lover's. "For fun."

Misty wrinkled her nose. "That's sick."

"I enjoy watching mortals tear at each other. And you two have disappointed me."

"Disappointed ya?"

"I was expecting bloodshed, but you two being mediators, I didn't get any." He almost pouted at the two witches, his arms wide as he sighed mockingly. "Will I have to wait until you crown a new Supreme to enjoy myself?"

"Is that what gets ya off?"

"Misty."

The demon laughed heartily. "She can bite all she wants, I won't kill her. No, I enjoy you too much. You and your gators." He sobered. "But I'd watch that your tongue gets no harsher, I'm letting you live, I let you leave my realm." The necromancer's blue-green eyes narrowed.
He tilted his head to look out one of the shack's windows. "A poor soul calls me, from the other side of town. A certain Lalaurie."

Cordelia's dark eyes were wide. "Marie wouldn't-"

"Oh she would." Papa Legba purred. "I expect a war out of this Delphine's death. Little Madison throwing fireballs, Fiona and Myrtle at each other's throats as Queenie stabs herself with a fork. Oh yes." He licked his lower lip. "Perhaps we'll have a new leader once the smoke settles?"

Misty said nothing, but Cordelia could see she was digging her nails into her flesh.

"It was nice seeing you again, Misty Day, and you for the first time, Cordelia Foxx. Though it won't be the last." He tipped his hat at them. "And I hope I will receive an invitation on the wing of a dove to your marriage." He laughed deeply as he turned and vanished as he walked through the doorway, the two staring after him.

OOOOOOooooooOOOOOO

The sweltering Louisiana sun beat down on both of them, sweat rolling off their skin in beads, Misty's hand trailing idly in the swamp water as they rowed down the bogs lazily. Cordelia was splayed against her front, her fingers tracing circles against Misty's knee, against the burn scars she'd refused to get rid of, her head back on her shoulder.

The older blonde's voice suddenly broke the silence. "It's hot."

"Then take off your shirt."

"Misty."

But after a moment, the alchemist took the swamp queen's advice, and tugged the flimsy material up and over her head, throwing it for it to land on the edge of the row boat. She settled back in Misty's arms, her back clinging to Misty's own shirt as she sighed softly, content in listening to the necromancer's hums. A wayward hand traveled up her stomach to settle on the swell of her breast.

She let out a soft gasp, but didn't push Misty's fingers away, instead ever so subtly arching into the touch. The necromancer's other hand flitted to cup her ribs, where her new, finished tattoo now lay, messy handwriting and all.

Salem Has Burned.
RISE.

But both were too lazy to go any further, happy with where they were.

Cordelia's voice was but a whisper as she tilted her head up to look at her lover. "What are we going to do once this war starts?"

"I don't know. We'll figure it out once it does. Until then, life goes on." The swamp queen replied softly, and after a moment, added, "We'll do the right thing, I reckon."

"Misty?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."