Hypermnestra
by Nyx
warning: PG-13 for language.
*
Hypermnestra was one of the Danaides, 49 daughters of Danaus. They were
sent to Egypt to be married to Danaus' rival's 49 sons, but were secretly
ordered by their father to kill the sons after they were married. All of
the daughters killed their husbands except for Hypermnestra, who presumably
could not find it in her to kill.
*
I hold the knife over his heart, this man (creature? Wraith?) that I have hated for so long. He cannot fight me anymore; his muscles have atrophied from years of trusting in the dark arts to keep him safe, and now that he cannot fall back on them he is helpless. When he learned of my whereabouts, when he returned to kill me and finish the job he started on everything I ever loved, he didn't know about the traps I had set. It took me years to discover his weakness, years of hiding and trying to find where he hid. As the hours melded into days, weeks, months, I carefully pored over every old text I laid hands on. And I finally found it. And so I set the trap.
He lies before me, on the floor; he's ancient, and looks even worse. The dark arts have eaten away at his body as anger has eaten away at my soul. His magic is gone forever, and now there is only one thing to do.
"You killed my parents," I say in a perfectly normal tone of voice, not wanting to let the agony I've felt slip in. "You killed my children." He stares up at me with awful, empty eyes, not giving me the benefit of an answer. "You killed my husband. You killed Harry, you sonofabitch!" My foot contacts with his ribs, and he gasps - a short, sharp little gasp that is quickly suppressed. I kick him again. "You killed too many people, Voldemort," and this time he looks at me, faintly surprised. "I'm not afraid of saying your name anymore. God damn you, Lord Voldemort - you're going straight down to Hell." I raise the knife, thinking of all the years I've been alone and wishing, dreaming, that this moment would come.
And my knife hand slowly falls to my side. I can't do this. I can't turn into what he is.
"Go," I say, and I know that my voice is infinetly weary. "Go, and never come back. Your powers will not return to you." In my heart I know that it's true, that he will forever be this powerless husk of a man, but my mind screams. Are you crazy? You trap him and then let him go?
But I cannot kill.
*
Disclaimer: Harry and Voldie aren't mine. I just borrowed them; they'll
be put back right where I found 'em.
Sequels: Nyx does not do sequels.
Feedback: Me like. Me hungry. Feed me back. Nyxfics@hotmail.com
Note: The myth of Hypermnestra is, as far as I can tell, Greek, though it
might be Roman (they get mixed up in my head sometimes). For anyone who's
interested, I'd suggest the book "Women of Classical Mythology: A Biographical
Dictionary" by Robert E. Bell for all your female myth needs.
Congratulations! Someone guessed my handle! Yes, indeed, in Greek mythology Nyx was the goddess of the night and mother of light. Ain't it grand?!
~Nyx~
the gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day
is crept into the bosom of the sea
-shakespeare, henry VI
www.geocities.com/nyxfics