Disclaimer: Characters from RotG aren't mine. Story is mine. Anything remotely similar to another person's story is completely coincidental
~Stone Cold~
The sensation of small knives jabbing across maintained with each step she took. The Morrígan was perfectly aware of how cold it was underground; she absolutely thrived in it. Most of her….followers willingly agreed to the ambiance with earnestness. To be honest she wasn't so sure if it was the natural born crows that cawed this or the homunculi saying it. They all started to look the same to her.
The Morrígan's hand caressed the stonewall near where the throne stood. She stared blankly at the carving that held a look of horror before her. The girl and her goose were in an eternal state of motionless reticence. The Morrígan had a lapse of emotion for a brief second and nearly broke her impassive mien. She remembered how she caught the girl and entrapped her into the wall with a spell. The goose was much more resistant and even slammed itself into the wall as though its weight would be enough to free the girl. The Morrígan found that behavior quiet unsettling and subdued the abnormally large bird with ease and repeated the spell and sending it into a stony prison.
The image showed of the two terrified beings as they gesticulated into a stance trying to protect the other from an unseen force. Obviously that unseen force was the Morrígan when she casted her spell at the time and each one tried to avoid the blast. The spectral boy came soon after with a fierce look of vengeance swelling in his eyes.
The Morrígan almost envied that look.
She knew what it was like to have everything you had so foolishly cared for taken from you by someone most unworthy. The boy was much harder to fight with his ability to fly and emitting light from his staff. If he had fought her now, why the Morrígan might've lost with her lack of power. By the Mother Goddess, how she hated this time era she was forced to survive in.
Most troublesome indeed. The Morrígan winced and turned away. Looking back to the past was something that needed to be done leisurely but not often. The shade of black insisted on that. It helped during her one pathetic moment of thoroughgoing weakness. The first time in her existence she felt fear. It was appalling for a war goddess like herself to show that kind of emotion.
Most unheard of indeed. It was then the shade spoke to her again. Telling the Goddess of Death that she had a way to stop that fear. The very fear that would eat her away from the inside if she did not control it. The shade claimed that removing the problem would assert that things would return to normal for the people she once followed. Yes, the throne would become hers and hers alone if she followed the shade's words to the letter. Only of course the written language wasn't invented in Erie yet, but she digressed.
It didn't take long for the Morrígan to get her way. Precise planning was her forte after all, strategies were easy for her to outline from years of perfecting battlefield tactics. All it took was the right time to act. When the moment came she proceeded with a maneuver to assure that the battle would give her the upper hand. In the end the battle ended with several casualties on both sides but her side ended up being victorious. What she gained was the Ancestral Earth-Mound of her people and the land she so rightfully deserved. Or at least that is what she thought
The battle may have concluded but the war is far from over. When the Morrígan passed by a tattered tapestry and slashed it with her clawed hand with little to no remorse.
"Unfortunately that is true, my old friend." The Morrígan thought then spat aloud. "Despite all that warring someone still evaded my grasp. The fire arrow escaped. Damn the coldest reaches of the Otherworld of that outcome. The fire arrow eluded me and succeeded at reaching its target."
The four treasures of her people were taken away. The Morrígan searched through the land to find them both only for the fire arrow to dodge at every chance. It always slipped from the goddess' grasp.
The worst of the whole chase was that the Morrígan had to witness mortal after mortal choosing a new god instead of her. She saw the world turned with every rise and fall of so-called grand civilizations. They all thought to have held great seats of power but it was a petty excuse. She knew the truth that none of them lasted longer than a few millennia or so.
Such pathetic creatures, the human race is.
None of them knew the first thing about ruling an empire longer than 3,000 years. The time each kingdom lasted only for it to diminished as time rolled on. Humans would simply say 'nothing is perfect' and start all over. That didn't suit the Morrígan at all.
Real power is a birthright and honor to hold. The race she came from was born to rule and took Eire as their own land with ease. If her people could see the world now the Morrígan would be certain they would all die a second time. Oh yes, those humans needed to see the error of their ways. They couldn't just imagine something to get better; it was a necessity for them to realize how false that fanciful, petty time was.
Facing the true reality was the only way to go. A pure world where one being of great power ruled all society over. They needed guidance and to be submissive. Subjugation was what needed to be done. To be feed their thoughts and feelings so they did not need to think. Just like worms feeding on a corpse, humans would seek only nourishment while their unquestioned leader could do the rest. That ideal world will be perfect, once those False Gods are removed and no longer trying to get in the Morrígan's way.
"Mistress," General Aingeal called out. The Morrígan snapped out of her morbid thoughts and twisted her direction toward the crow. Her cursed eyes peered at the black bird. "What is it?" She strode to where Aingeal stood.
"We found another being trying to defy you, Your Grace." The crow bowed with her beak almost touching the floor.
Do I wonder what you will do to that poor soul? The Morrígan smirked; she was use to the shade's sarcasm by this point in time. "Bring it to me. I'll see to it that creature gets the retribution it deserves."
"Of course," Aingeal bowed before taking off.
"Even with the promise of life these dwellers from later times have resisted me." The Morrígan thought dully. "Can they not see the great new world I promise them?"
They do not like what they cannot comprehend, Goddess of Death. The shade shifted in the Morrígan's shadow and took the form of a leering but seemingly animalistic form. It rested casually on the side of the wall. Cleary they do not grasp the glorious vision I-you had come up with.
"Indeed they do not," the goddess agreed. She paced back and forth with her previous resentment slowly returning. "Those little fairies have been wasting their time lounging about like they own this country. Some have even-Mother Goddess forbid-correlated alongside with those fickle Worshipers. It's sickening to think about it."
The sounds of struggling could be heard when the Morrígan saw several crows dragging a struggling body forward. It was a small bipedal creature with fur all over its body. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"My Mistress," Aingeal landed by the Phantom Queen's side. "We found this….Bòcan," she spoke the name with such distaste as if it were a disease. "Was found trying to rally supporters for the False Gods."
The Bòcan groaned in pain when he fell to the ground. "The Bòcan has a name, ya know." After hearing that remark the crows around him poised their claws, aiming for his chest.
"Wait," the Morrígan ordered, the claws were lowered slightly. "Let us hear what this traitor has to say first." The Bòcan sat up to rest on his knees while the goddess stepped closer. "Tell me, of your reason for treason, little Fae."
"Forgive me, Great One." The Bòcan muttered.
The Morrígan narrowed her red eyes. "An admission of guilt will not save you from punishment."
"Not to sound rude," the Bòcan smiled rather self-righteously. "But I wasn't talking to you." His ember eyes directed toward the wall behind her. The Morrígan turned to see what the Bòcan was looking past her. The wall held the carvings of several legendary figures. Each one held an object that was a symbol of power for the Tuatha Dé Danann.
The Stone of Fál was positioned with high decorum while the warrior beside it did his best not to directly touch the sacred rock; only a High King was worthy to behold such an awesome monument.
The Spear of Lug was seized in the hand of Lug himself as his image was poised for a incoming battle the artist did not make with Lug holding his spear directly. The carver had left the onslaught of adversaries to the viewer's imagination and which direction they would come from.
The Sword belonging to Núadu was in his hand while a shield was clasped in his other one. He stone-gray eyes held deep determination while he took a battle stance.
Last but not least of the four treasures and warriors was the one who stood in the middle. The Great King of the Tuatha Dé Danann; the Dagda. He stood with his arms holding a club and beneath his feet stood the Cauldron, it overflowing with delicious food from the hearth. If the Morrígan was a tiny proportion of the woman she once was then those images would have given her clouded feelings of discomfort and melancholy. She remained silent before speaking in a fervent voice.
"The dead are nothing but shadows from the past. Reminders of the true despair this world still faces." The Morrígan turned to the Bòcan with a fierce look. "And I am to change it to the right image that suits me."
The frowned; he had expected a comment like that. "That is what I feared you would say." He glared darkly at her. "You wish to make the world better but you do not think of others and what they feel. Three weeks ago you had taken children all over for whatever purpose you have in mind. One of them was a boy I knew very well."
The Bòcan had left the safety of his home in Kildare months before. He no longer had forests to hide and to run away from predators. The village seemed to be safe to rest until the cold settled in. On a cold evening when Segel, the Bòcan, felt like he couldn't last much longer a human child found him hiding in the tree trunk near the boy's house.
Much to Segel's surprise the boy took him in and had Segel rest near the fire. The Bòcan was too weak at that point in time to even wonder how the boy could see him. For several days at a time the boy would help Segel get his strength back with food he had 'barrowed' from his grandmother and even made a little bed out of downy pillows for the Fae to sleep upon. This kind act made Segel promise to watch his little master and assist him in anyway he could.
Sometimes without anyone's notice, he would slink around the house and find objects that the boy and his family may have misplaced. Once he did Segal would carry them from the misplaced spot and brought them to obvious spots where the people could find them again. He wasn't sure if the boy knew of this until a week he had started his little Lost & Found operation a small slice of pound cake was hidden near the hearth on one late night.
When his young master had been spirited away in the night, Segel vowed to find him once he saw the kidnapper's calling card; a sole black feather. Segel had heard whispers from wayward Fae that the one called the Phantom Queen had returned. The Leprechauns warned the other Fae that she was a force to be reckoned with and said that avoiding her wrath should be encouraged. Segel didn't care for this before joining a group of resisting Fae that wanted to cease the wicked goddess' mistreatment toward their collective homes. Their losses never outweighed the triumphs that turned out well.
In the end only Segel and a few others remained after their numbers dwindled from previous battles. They were gathering new recruits when the crows came and attacked when they narrowed down Segel as the leader the birds took him to the earth mound awaiting punishment from the Phantom Queen herself. Segel would silently agree to his fallen comrades inquires that she was indeed a frightening site to behold.
"Such noble words," the Morrígan sneered a minute after Segel's outburst. "Noble words for such a folly. Those men no longer live. That time has come to an end. Despair will be the only feeling inside everyone's hearts." The smallest of smirks treaded her face. "And so will you." Seconds later Segel felt every part of his body hurt when he was slammed to a wall. When he fell over he saw carved images etched onto the stone. His eyes widened in horror when he recognized a few of the pictures as his old partners in the resistance movement. Hundreds of other carvings of petrified beings could be seen, including one of a human girl riding on a large goose.
Segel heard dark laughter and turned to see the Morrígan above him with malevolence. "I think it is time for you to be reunited with your former equals, Bòcan." All Segel could do was cower before his image appeared on the wall with his fallen brethren. The Morrígan smirked in satisfaction. One less nuisance for her to meditate over.
"Mistress," Aingeal called out with another crow near her. "This officer has returned from reconnaissance. He claims to have seen the False Gods boarding into an metal animal transporter." She took a step forward for dramatic effect. "They seem to be heading to the human capital, Dublin, Mistress."
The Morrígan took in the news with a calm demeanor and ordered, "Have him go back to Dublin. I believe a certain sprite could still be residing there. We cannot have him forget whose country this rightfully belongs to."
"Yes, Phantom Queen." Aingeal bowed and escorted the other crow toward the secret entrance of the earth mound.
The Morrígan turned her gaze back to the stonewall where the four treasures were present. Her eyes momentarily soften while she peered into the stone eyes of the Dagda. She placed her hand on the carving's cheek before recoiling it from the cold surface. The goddess screeched out and slashed the face repeatedly until it was ripped clean off from the wall. She seethed as the dust in the air settled in and faded.
The Morrígan closed her eyes then took a deep breath. Once she opened them again her eye eyes glowed. Her shadow that danced in the light of the hanging torches from above morphed into the form of the shade. Together in the Morrígan's triple voice spoke, "Soon the end for them will come, 'Darkness…will the others fall withone remaining to rule over all!'
The reciting of the Prophecy ended with a loud clamor from the Phantom Queen as her roar echo across the chamber. She may have gone by many names and took many forms she is and always will be the Morrígan. And even if those False Gods want to admit it or not, her powers grow stronger and are greater than they could ever imagine.
Q-A: O-O Remember that last word forever! Or at least for the rest of the story since it's one of the biggest themes my story has. :D Super sorry this isn't as long as my other chapters but I'm working on one that's pretty long, so I figured this one could balance it out. Plus it's pretty cool to see the antagonist's point of view like this for once. And another O.C., XP Yeah I keep spewing those out don't I? Please don't worry though, Segel has a point in the story and it'll bring back in a later chapter.
Keep on Writin' and Rockin'