Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?
French translations: ((example))
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Padma, too, had noticed everyone's strange behavior, and had taken to the air herself, the twins on either side of her, wings almost as dark as their sister's keeping them aloft. Cocidius and Lucifer had done…something, and their shapeshifting abilities had expanded, making it easy to learn the new trick. Sweeping her hand out in yet another large arch, she forced everyone not wearing an amulet of their army to the ground with an invisible wall of pure gravity, pushing and pulling at the same time. Fred and George let loose streams of fire from their outstretched hands, roasting those that hadn't died under the pressure of her attack.
They seemed the most at home when channeling their sister's flames through the Marks and the rings, and Padma knew that it had a lot to do with the latent Elemental blood in their veins. That blood had awoken in their family once again through Virginia, and calling on her heat was the most natural choice for them, although they could wield the others as well with the rings' help. The twins had stayed at her back since they had met up after the gods' appearance, and the only reason they hadn't been with her before was because they had each led small divisions of the Brotherhood's warriors in, invisible in the fray.
They would be with her for the remainder of the battle, though, living or dying beside her, and an aching filled her chest at the thought of their deaths, causing the next that died at her hands to do so much more painfully than most. They noticed her sudden streak of cruelty, of course, but said nothing as desperate Death Eaters tried to hex them out of the sky. Fools. They were still wearing their amulets, as were the Slytherins, and the shields in them had been activated long ago. Every member of their army had been given amulets to ward off their more…destructive attacks, but they were hastily made, considering the numbers that had had to be forged.
So they saved them from the Elemental unleashings, but not from common curses or the Dark Lords' attacks like the Slytherins' amulets did. But more care and time had gone into the Slytherins', and the others were lucky to have any at all. But they'd been forced to do something to protect them, or they would have died along with the Death Eaters. And they were dying alongside them, just not from the major releases of Elemental power. They were falling in loads before the Dark Lords, however, which she could sense even though she couldn't see them. Three were to her right and on the ground, another not a hundred yards from her.
Then, with a suddenness that almost knocked her from the sky, Draco and Blaise slammed mental shields into place so quickly that she very nearly screamed from the instant, wrenching loss. Something had gone horribly wrong, and she reached for Virginia only to meet the same unmovable resistance. The twins were paler than usual when she looked up, fading freckles looking darker than they had in weeks, and she knew that they were thinking the same thing even without confirming it through their Marks. They needed to find the others, and preferably as quickly as possible. They turned to where they'd felt them last, but stopped before they'd even really begun.
Because the gods, who'd stayed in their silent ranks as if having a conversation that no mortal or immortal ear could hear, suddenly sprung into action. The opposing forces met in a cataclysm of light, dark and white alike, and the aftershocks of it knocked everyone to the ground hard. One of her wings was yanked on viciously, the other snapped underneath her as she slammed onto her side on something that felt like a metal mountain, and something else just stopped her head from cracking into it next. Looking up, she saw that Fred had managed to cushion her fall by grabbing her other wing and throwing his arm out.
His fingers were curled around part of the metal…whatever it was that she had hit, and he was a good six feet above her, his arm obviously ripped out of socket from the force, but he still held on until he saw that she could brace herself before he let go. Her head was lying on George's stomach; he'd somehow managed to roll underneath her at the last second to save her skull at the expense of his own. His eyes were glazed as they met hers, the thick metal underneath them actually dented where his head was resting, and she scrambled off of him immediately, her broken wing hanging uselessly as it started to reknit itself.
"Oh gods, George, you know I heal faster than you do." She murmured as she knelt next to him, and she felt more than saw Fred crawl up to them from behind, his eyes scanning everything around them, his injured arm cradled in his lap. It wasn't a metal mountain that they were on at all, but a giant's helmet. Her Lord's fury filled her, but it stayed in the background for the moment.
The noise around and above them was deafening, and instead of gawking, most seemed to become even more crazed as they drew themselves to their feet, the rage and battle fury of the gods infusing them from head to toe. Purebloods all over the field were bursting into wandless brilliance, a side effect that lasted only until the battle's end and one that had not been witnessed since the last Great War between the gods. She could not help soaking it in for a moment, but not even such a sight as that was, like a blanket of landed, multi-colored stars, could keep her attention from the wounded young man in front of her. Nothing could for long.
As she started a rapid healing, she couldn't help but feel more than a little guilty. He had done this for her; they both had. But why? You know why, she told herself sternly. They are our liegeman; they had no choice. Then why did she so desperately want a different answer to that question? And why was it so hard to see straight when she noticed his bright red blood staining her hands, or when she saw and felt just how bad the injury was? And why, as she turned to Fred to heal him as well, did her stomach get the strangest flutterings deep within it whenever their eyes met? Why did she want so badly to touch them both, to see them both smile?
Because, she answered herself once again, you had to go and fall in love with them, and that was a very stupid thing to do.
"Padma?" Fred's voice drew her out of her study of the different shades of blue in his eyes, and she felt her cheeks heat up before she could stop them. They were in the middle of a battle for their lives, for Merlin's sake! What the hell was wrong with her?
"Sorry. Here." She said, keeping her gaze firmly trained on his shoulder as she laid soothing hands on him.
The healing came as easily as it always did, and she focused entirely on her task, trusting him to watch for any approaching danger. His shoulder snapped back into place painlessly, the torn muscles and ligaments obeying her silent directions like chess pieces obey verbal ones, and he was sighing in relief a minute later, experimentally flexing his arm. George was rising to a sitting position behind them, looking hale and whole once more, and there were so many things that she wanted to say, but she couldn't. They caught in her throat like broken glass, and she launched herself skyward, her own wing long healed, unable to look upon them without sobbing.
They followed immediately, trying to reach her through the Marks, but her heart's desires were something that she simply couldn't put into words just yet. Be it fear of rejection or fear of losing them to the fight that night, she didn't know. All she knew was that she would see that they survived it no matter what. But right then, they needed to find the others, needed to find out why they'd suddenly blocked themselves like they had. She was nothing but a blurred streak shooting through the air, and she sensed the invisible shields that sprung up right in front of her not a second too soon, barely having time to throw her arms up to protect her face.
There was no cushioning that impact, and it would have killed her had she been mortal. As it was, her left side was shattered, a red fog was encasing her vision, and she was plummeting for the ground, which was so very, very far below her. Throwing her link to Cocidius open wide, she did the quickest healing of her life, abusing the bones and muscles so badly that she knew she wouldn't be able to walk without constant agony for at least a week. But the important part was that everything worked once again, she was on the ground, and rage was blocking any trickles and spurts of pain she might have still felt. Who dared to cast her from the sky?
The fury she was feeling was odd, something that seemed so much like her, but so much different at the same time, as if she were suddenly sharing a body and a mind with another person. Or as if she had just been split in two…It was just strange. But she felt no warning from Cocidius, so she knew that no one had possessed her or anything of the sort. The indignant ire that filled her to the brim made her heart harden and her eyes narrow, made a chilling blank area form inside of her that would not flinch before anything. She felt regal, supreme, all-powerful…And she was not pleased, not pleased at all. Turning slowly, she saw Fred and George landing behind her.
"Are you alright? What..." Fred's words trailed off as he and George met her eyes, and both dropped to their knees. Cocking her head to the side, she wondered why it didn't seem odd for them to be doing such a thing. Part of her felt as if she'd seen them do it a million times, while the other half argued that she'd seen it only once, maybe twice before. What in the bloody hell was going on?
"Oh, Pad-maaaa…" A voice sang out from behind her, twisting her name into something that sounded foul and lecherous.
Something in that voice drew her attention, though, and she turned to face it slowly. Fred and George rose at her slightest prompting through the Marks, and they turned to see three figures arranged in much the same way that they were, two flanking the one in the middle. All three had low hoods pulled down over their faces, and all three were tall and slender. They moved forward a bit, and Padma could sense the shields they had thrown up around them, and knew that she could break free. But there was no point, because she knew who stood before her, and she'd been hoping to run into one of them. And the center figure was most certainly a Dark Lord.
"Yes?"
"Such a cold greeting from you to me." The Dark Lord replied, winding ever closer in small, almost imperceptible movements. Its shadows flanked it dutifully, and she stopped the forward progress of them all with an invisible shield of her own when they began to get too close.
"You thought to receive a warm one? All the more a fool that makes you." Padma said evenly, the old, steadying sense of the earth solid underneath her feet, as comforting as the feeling of the twins at her back.
"What else should I have expected? It's only right that you treat your family kindly." The voice hissed from inside that shadowy cloak, and one pale hand drew the hood back slowly as the next words escaped its lips. "Isn't that right, sister?"
"You're dead." Padma said blandly, half of her completely unaffected while the other half was reeling in shock and screaming, 'Parvati!?'
"No. Well, not anymore, at least." Her twin replied, and Padma studied her features as she continued speaking. She was completely mad, that much was obvious with barely more than a glance, but she was also graying, as if she wasn't fully alive. That or Dagda didn't care much for her. "I was dead, thanks to those fucking sociopath friends of yours, but my Lord brought me back."
"Did He, now?" Padma asked, beginning her own slow circle around the three standing before her, ignoring the battle raging on all sides of the shields surrounding them. Parvati's face scrunched up in a move that Padma remembered so well it was practically ingrained in her mind, and she inwardly cursed. She'd thought herself rid of the treacherous slut. Okay…that had been the weird part of her rearing its head. But then why did it feel so right to think it? As if she would have usually, but something had been missing and now it wasn't…She was confusing herself, and she really couldn't afford it at the moment.
"Are you trying to say that He couldn't?" Parvati demanded, and the whine in the latter part of the sentence was definitely her sister's. Great.
"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" Padma asked, because if there was one thing her sister loved, it was gloating, even if half of what she was gloating about was only her own delusions. One thing that was not a delusion, however, was the dark power rolling off of her.
"He did." Traces of the pout still lingered, and stronger traces of the madness became apparent every second. "He was searching for His forth Dark Lord, and He found my soul lingering where they'd killed me. He knew a bit about me, since you are not the only one in our family that inherited a bit of the Sight, and I had gone to Voldemort after I had a vision of killing you. I knew where to be, and thought I knew how it would end, but I did not See the two Slytherins' interference. It mattered not, though, for my Lord sensed the power of my hate, sensed how black and festering it had become, and He twisted me into what I am, imbibed me with all the powers of a Dark Lord, or if you wish to be more specific, a Dark Lady."
"But you cannot be the forth." Padma argued. "The Lady said four 'ill-begotten bastards' would be our opponents, and you are no more a bastard than I."
"Maybe in my last life." Parvati agreed, and in a movement that was almost too fast for even Padma's reflexes, her hand shot out and toward her twin's face, sharp claws extended maliciously.
Padma might have only barely avoided that first swing, but two could play at that game. Her leg shot out so fast that not even Fred or George would have been able to avoid it, but Parvati somehow did. Had she been her normal self, it would have shocked her, but this new…cold half of her didn't shock easily. Or really at all. And again, it felt so natural that she didn't even think to fight it. She just stayed in that clear space that it had made inside her mind, and blocked Parvati's fist as she tried to drive it into her stomach. She seemed to have plenty of time to stop each swing, but her sister did too, and they were getting nowhere.
"You're fast, jaaNataa ekuu, but are you fast enough?" Parvati taunted, the Marathi nickname spilling from her lips, meaning to wound. But it didn't throw her off balance, and she saw the disappointment in her sister's eyes before she could hide it. ((wise one))
"I suppose we shall see, dushhTa ekuu." Padma threw back in her face, the cursed word slipping from her lips with ease, and she realized that it was because it was true. ((evil one))
"You have killed as many or more than I." Parvati objected, stepping back and letting a few feet of empty space distance them again.
"Yes. But what were your reasons? Mine was the preservation of our people and those that I love. But you…you wish only to preserve yourself, even if your preservation has you looking like that." She stressed the last word, hitting her sister where it had never failed to hurt. If Parvati had any trait to rival her ignorance, it would be her vanity. As expected, her twin recoiled the slightest bit, one hand that had lost its honeyed coloring rising to her cheek before she snarled and lowered it.
"Shut up!" Parvati screamed, and Padma laughed. "You still think you're better than me, don't you?" Parvati spat out, and Padma wondered if she could even count the number of times that she had been asked that question by the girl standing in front of her. Probably not. And that part of her that had only recently manifested itself bit back as she had always wanted to do.
"Yes." She hissed, stalking forward a step and watching Parvati pace backwards. "Yes, I think I'm fucking better than you, Parvati. I always have been and I always will be. You've damned your soul for eternity to futilely try, once again, to be better than me. But the sad truth is that you will never be better than me, or even my equal, no matter what sick power your precious god has given you."
"Fuck you, Padma." Parvati said bitterly, and she lashed out again in another of those oh-so-quick movements, but Padma was better prepared for it that time, and the dagger never made it to her throat.
Her fingers clamped around her twin's wrist hard enough that she heard bones snap, and she threw the other girl away from her before falling into a defensive crouch as one of the hooded figures dove at her. She hit the ground and felt them pass over her, followed a split second later by George, and when she looked up again, they were grappling in the slushy red snow. Fred was fighting with the other anonymous figure, his eyes dark and fierce, and she had to turn away in order to keep an eye on her twin, who was holding her wrist and glaring for all she was worth. Sliding her boot daggers from their sheathes, Padma waited.
It didn't take long for Parvati's wrist to heal, and it took even less for her to work herself into attacking again. She charged her and swerved at the last second, hoping to trick Padma into following the first movement, but she had spent too many hours on the practice field with Draco and Blaise to have made such a foolish mistake. She caught the foot aimed at her head and rolled, causing Parvati to crash to the ground roughly, her momentum working against her. Padma leapt clear as soon as her feet hit the ground again, and she watched her twin pick herself up, shaking her head once to clear it before meeting Padma's eyes.
"You're all going to die, you know." Parvati said, wiping a thin line of blood from the corner of her mouth away. "You have no idea who the other two of my kindred are, or what they are capable of. They will kill the two Slytherins, and Virginia will be the Lord's slave."
"Two brand-new Dark Lords won't be a match for Draco and Blaise." Padma replied calmly, and she didn't like the glint in her sister's eyes.
"So says you." Parvati said slowly, as if savoring every word. "But can they kill each other?"
"What the fuck are you talking about, Parvati?" Padma snapped, itching to throw one of the daggers. Or both. She wasn't picky.
"I'm talking about mirror images, dear sister." Parvati said, her tone bordering on gleeful. "Blood of their blood, flesh of their flesh, and identical to them in every way but one. But illusions can be cast, and leather made to look like feathers. I ask you again: Can they kill each other?"
"They have no siblings."
"None that you knew of." Parvati corrected, waggling her finger back and forth like their old nanny used to do.
"You lie."
"No. You just hope that I am." Parvati seemed to be on a roll, and she turned her eyes to where the twins were each straddling one of her shadows with a blade at their throats, the hoods somehow still hiding their features, before looking back at Padma. "Tell them to release them."
"No."
"But don't you want to know how your friends came to have such marvelous brothers?" Parvati asked, and Padma let loose a slew of curses inside her head. Damn her!
"Release them." Padma said, and Fred and George flowed off of them in liquid movements, returning to her side immediately. The hooded figures stood, staying where they were, and she asked what Parvati knew that she wanted to know.
"How could they possibly have brothers?"
"Well," started the obscured figure to the right, "that was Lucius's doing."
It stepped forward a bit, and lowered its hood with the same slowness that Parvati had, as if revealing their faces had been part of the show, part of the game. She could understand why when she saw the impossibility before her. She had studied the old pureblooded bloodlines too extensively not to recognize him immediately even if his face hadn't been famous. But as it was, anyone who knew anything about their world knew that face, with its sharp, familiar cheekbones and its full, sensual lips. No other family had that color hair, not even the Black's, and those eyes…There was absolutely no mistaking them, and the implications of that made her rage very nearly explode.
"His and mine." The man continued, a knowing look on his face, as if he could sense hers and the twins' hatred of him. "But, how rude of me. I haven't even introduced myself." As if he needed an introduction.
"I doubt that will be necessary." She managed to get out from between gritted teeth, but he moved forward and bowed mockingly anyway.
"It is a true pleasure to meet you, Lady Patil. I am Jeran Zabini. Might you know where my son is?"
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Marcello had split from Sebastian and Melody, leaving them on the ground when Draco had put him on the massive Horntail he'd been riding and told it to play nice with him, before his silver-haired friend had completely wasted an entire section of Death Eaters in less than five or six seconds. The huge black beast had turned to regard him, and for a moment, he'd worried that Draco had misjudged his control over the dragon. He should have known better, though, and the dragon had simply narrowed yellow eyes that would have looked more at home on a cat's face at him before all of those muscles had bunched under scale and they'd shot into the air.
He'd ridden dragons before, but he'd never been suicidal enough to try his luck on a Horntail before. He'd never even seen anyone that could keep their seat on one except for Draco and Blaise, and he'd always declined their offers to let him try. They'd said that he would be safe enough if they told the dragon to behave, but he'd never had enough of a death wish to take them up on it. Which is probably why Draco had placed him on this one in the first place. That was definitely one way to conquer a fear, he supposed, and it was most certainly the way that they usually went about it. If you were terrified of it, then you absolutely had to try it at some point or another.
Shaking his head, he guided the dragon with the same gentle commands that he would have used with any other, and was quite surprised when they worked. It was more about body language than anything verbal, a tensing of muscles and applications of pressure on certain sections of the scales. He was seated on the dragon's shoulders were the dip formed a natural perch, and it bore a harness even though Draco rarely used one, which let him know that the other hadn't planned on riding the entire time. He was still slightly shocked that the dragon was being so docile with him, but it was nothing compared to his shock when a sibilant voice blossomed inside his head.
'I comply only for him. Do not think too highly of yourssself.'
Sweet Circe, was that the fucking dragon speaking to him? He was suddenly extremely thankful of the harness, as he probably would have fallen off otherwise.
'I wasn't.' He replied the way he would have to any person speaking with him mind-to-mind, not even sure that the great beast would hear him. But it did.
'Good.' It said as it let loose another stream of fire, roasting everyone in its path. 'For I bear only royal blood willingly, and you, for all your purity, are not that. And watch my left ssside underneath your knee. The massster only had time to ssstop the bleeding and patch it up quickly.'
It said nothing else, for which he was both grateful and slightly disappointed, and he glanced down past his left leg. A section the size of a horse's entire body looked as if it had been blown out of the dragon's side, because there was a large area of fleshy pink scales that testified they were new. He knew that they wouldn't be as tough as they usually were until they'd turned black to match the rest, and they would be sensitive until the dragon's own quick-healing skills did that. Such a major healing should have drained Draco, but he'd looked more than active and healthy when Marcello had seen him last. He had looked…almost godlike.
The red eyes, the eyes of Cocidius, those he had seen before when Marcus had tried to rape Virginia. But the wings had been new, and so had the overwhelming desire to fall flat on his face in supplication. Supplication of what, he had no idea, but that hadn't changed the fact that he'd already been on his knees, swamped with a feeling of fealty and devotion, before he'd even thought about it. It wasn't as if he'd never kneeled to him before, because he had numerous times, but this had been…different. The dragon roared, the deep sound vibrating underneath him, and its kindred echoed it in kind from all over the field.
Then they were diving and exhilaration filled him from head to toe. He loved flying on dragons, and he'd never been on one as swift as this Horntail, because for all of its size, it was quicker and more agile than its smaller relatives were. That jet of fire made a wide arch around them, and the screams of the burning Death Eaters were just one set of wailing voices lost inside so very many others. Many of those that survived met their deaths at the end of his wand, and the majority were burned so badly that it was probably a blessing. The dragon also picked off a few more, swallowing them whole in the blink of an eye.
Those of their forces, however, were all still standing, because the dragons were creatures of the element of fire, and their amulets protected them from the bursts of flames, just as they warned off the dark creatures from thinking of them as food. They did another sweep of the area, and he could feel the dragon's jubilance at the killings. He didn't have any squeamish problems with causing another's death himself, but he didn't take such joy from it either when it wasn't all that personal. And war, when you were on the battlefield and the enemies were all nameless faces, was not personal. The slaughter at Nor Gorgun had given him pleasure; this was just…necessity.
It was after the third dive that he saw her, and his heart caught in his throat. No, no, it couldn't be her, except…Except that it was. Reining in the dragon urgently, all four of its clawed feet hit the earth and caused it to tremble, but it couldn't match his shaking hands or his thrumming heart as he spelled the harness undone and slid down one of those long forelegs with practiced ease. The dragon regarded him almost curiously for a moment, before its head snapped around and Blaise and five Dementors came out of nowhere, killing everything that stood in their way. The dragon bugled low in its throat and Blaise turned to face them.
As soon as those crimson eyes swept over him, the same feeling he'd had around Draco caught his breath and dropped him once more to his knees. Those bruised-looking lips twisted into a parody of a smile, one black-nailed hand beckoning for him to rise, and he did so on shaky feet. Blaise ran one hand over the dragon's snout lovingly, and did nothing as a huge forked tongue darted out and licked his hand and arm free of blood and thicker things. The dragon looked almost orgasmic, it's eyes rolling back in its head as if just the meeting of its tongue and Blaise's flesh was enough to send it into fits, and Blaise made a subtle hand movement.
One of the Dementors immediately responded to that minute gesture, and it was gliding up the dragon a split second later and seating itself in the harness. A wave of its own hand had the leather straps rethinking their idea of wrapping around it, and they fell obediently back to hang loose on either side. Blaise barely so much as glanced up at it, and it nodded once before spinning the dragon around expertly and letting it take a few running steps before it was airborne once more. Then those vivid scarlet eyes were back on him, and he was kneeling again before he had any conscious thought of doing so. Blaise looked slightly puzzled.
"What are you doing?" He asked, and Marcello couldn't really say, so he stayed silent. "You will explain this later." Blaise stated after a moment of looking right through him, and Marcello nodded.
Then Blaise was gone and one of the Dementors had stayed behind, apparently to guard him. With a jolt, he remembered why he'd landed in the first place, and he spun around frantically, searching for that head of dark hair and the telltale staff of ivory. How long had he been distracted? There was no way to tell, and the fighting shifted constantly. Heading in the direction he'd last seen her, he unlatched his own staff from its place across his back, letting the Dementor worry about any trying to get at him while he worked. Using his wand, he had the staff breaking in two within seconds, and he slid the wand inside before slamming the two halves together again.
They fit together once more seamlessly, and the only thing that made his staff any different from hers was that it was solid black and made of marble. That and the foot long blades at each end. Giving it one experimental swing, he looked up in time to see someone try a Patronus Curse against the Dementor. But instead of chasing the Dementor off, the misty boar seemed to feed it, and Marcello realized that the stories were true. Once a Dementor had charged itself up during what to it was a feast, they were unstoppable. Patronus Charms were the only real defense that people had against them in the first place, and when those no longer worked…Well.
Enormously glad that he was on the Dementor's side and had an amulet on in case it forgot, his staff slammed into one Death Eater's head as the Killing Curse left the other end of it. It was like holding a giant wand, and it had always been his favorite weapon. He'd drilled with it so many times that it was like a part of him, an extension of his body just like his arms or legs. He loved the way that it sliced through the air, he loved the way that it sounded when it smashed into someone's skull, and he loved the feel of it permeated with his magick, marking it as his and only his. Slamming one end into the trampled snow and earth, he used it as leverage.
A running step and then he was spinning, and the Death Eater behind him was quite surprised to find his legs wrapped around its neck. A vicious twist was all it took to hear bones popping, and he was back on his feet and stabbing another before the lifeless body even hit the ground. The Dementor was feeding in a way that he'd never seen before, not even getting close to its victims and yet still managing to perform the Kiss. And it wasn't just picking off one at a time, but all of those in a fifteen-foot radius. Streams of some different colored foggy substance were being sucked towards it as if it were a black hole and they'd wandered much, much too close.
Then it just stopped, the last of the misty shit disappearing into it, and it actually sagged for a second, nearly falling over. Before he knew what he was doing, and could therefore tell himself not to tempt fate like an utter fool, he was at its side and supporting it weight, which wasn't very much, as if it had hollow bones like a bird. Motherfucking Merlin, he was practically hugging a fucking Dementor! Where had his bloody sense gone? But it didn't try to latch onto him, didn't bring those ghastly lips close enough to make him panic. Draco and Blaise might have been okay with something like that, and he'd even seen Virginia let one kiss her cheek once, but he wasn't.
No, it just rose to tower over him again gracefully, and the shadows inside its hood swirled, giving him the impression that he was being judged. Turning away, he leapt over several bodies before entering the fighting again, and he did nothing so presumptuous as try and motion the Dementor to follow. It hadn't tried to kill him for touching it, and that was good enough for him. He was really going to have to talk to Blaise about what made an acceptable guard and what did not. It was creepy enough being around one for most sane people normally, but what he had just seen that thing do was anything but normal, and he told himself that he would not touch it again.
He fought his way deep into a cluster of some of the more rough fighting, swearing he'd just seen a flash of pale ivory. The Dementor shadowed him, not doing…whatever the fuck it was that it had done before, and in the midst of all of the clashing blades and swift death that surrounded him, the chilling cold that it gave off was almost comforting. It stayed at his back, doing what it had been told to do and keeping him alive, and he absently thought that he should just shut up about the 'acceptable guard' thing, since Blaise obviously seemed to know what he was doing. Time passed immeasurably, but finally, eventually, he saw that white staff flashing.
And suddenly, not two hundred yards in front of them, he saw Draco, Blaise, Virginia and Padma rise up until they'd touched the clouds. A portal opened, a giant diamond that wavered and pulsed in the night sky, and then a figure of more beauty and majesty than he had ever thought to behold materialized out of it. Golden hair the color of the very sun spilled over lithe shoulders that still managed to convey power with every movement, and those familiar red eyes looked like two brilliant spots of blood, even from so far away. Recognition filled him a second before worship, and the divinity cloaking the air was like breathing in the scent of home.
God after god followed Cocidius, and he was stunned when he realized that he (and everyone else) had dropped to the ground, weapons forgotten along with the war. All that mattered was their first glimpse of the gods that they'd been blessed enough to have in millennia. Then the sky split open again, and he wasn't really sure what happened, but everyone was suddenly fighting again, and he felt completely reenergized as he rose to his feet. His soul felt lighter than it ever had before, and he knew, with a startling clarity, that he was not alone, that the gods did care for him, for he was pure and followed the old ways, and they cherished those that cherished them in return.
He swung his staff hard, hitting three Death Eaters in the face with one swipe, and one of the vampires was on them in seconds, coming out of nowhere. Leaving them to the pale predator, he worked his way to the girl who wielded that pearly staff with such accuracy, easily picking her out now. Coming up on her, he saw others of their forces fighting near her, but none that knew her enough to know that she wasn't supposed to be there, except for Narcissa, Silana and Armynel, but they were busy and surrounded by a wall of vampires three thick at their backs, their honor guard. Her back was open to him, though, and he used all of his stealth to creep up on her, before turning his back to hers and spinning with her when she tried to see his face. All she got was an eyeful of the colorful ribbons braided into his hair.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Lycelle?" He demanded harshly, letting all of his displeasure color his tone, and he could feel her stiffen as she recognized his voice, even as she twirled that length of ivory and knocked another Death Eater unconscious.
"I had to come. Everyone I love is fighting here tonight." She called back after two more fell before each of them. Her words sounded carefully chosen, rehearsed, and it only heightened his anger.
"Yes, but they have all passed their sixteenth birthdays, and they are of the age of consent! But you, you are too young—"
"Do not stand there and call me young!" She spat, turning her back to the fighting as she spun around to face him, her eyes shining with something besides battle lust, something that he couldn't understand. Throwing a temporary shield up around them, he knew he had to at least try to get her to leave before she got herself killed.
"Lycelle…"
"No! I was old enough to fuck, was I not?" She said in a low, strained voice, and he just stared at her for a moment.
"That has nothing to do with this." He said after a moment, knowing he was on shaky ground. How was he supposed to tell her that she was one of the maturest people he knew, and still convince her that she wasn't old enough to be in the middle of a gore-soaked battlefield?
"If I can fuck, I can fight." She argued, and he would have said something else, but there were Death Eaters trying to break through his shield, and he lowered it before they could so that they wouldn't catch him by surprise.
The bladed end of his staff sliced one's throat neatly, and he shot a curse through it a second later, taking out the one behind it, and then the one behind that one…Time blurred again as he concentrated fully on keeping both himself and Lycelle alive, the Dementor moving in and out of the fighting like a dark ghost. Gods, did they never stop coming? His eyes went to the sky once more of their own will, and that was the only reason he had enough time to throw himself on top of Lycelle before the lines of deities collided with each other. The shockwave blasted over them, pushing them into the wet ground with the force of a train, and his vision went black.
When he could see again, there was something…strange growing inside of him. It kept building and building in intensity, until it slipped his skin and he was glowing like dark green sun. He stared at his hands in wonder for a moment, before Lycelle touched him with one hand that looked like a slice of moonlight, and he lifted his eyes to hers. She was shining as brightly as he was, a soft cream color, and he had never seen her look more beautiful. She blushed, a faint rosy glow infusing her milky radiance, as if she could see what he thought somewhere in his eyes. He distantly knew what was happening, but he couldn't be bothered with thinking on it.
He had never felt so powerful, so strong. And there was a spark of divinity within him that had never been there before, making him feel invincible and ancient. And furious. Springing to his feet, his staff was swinging out almost of its own accord, and a dark jet of light shot out from it, channeling his new wandless energy in a thick beam that he found, to his delight, he could keep going for almost twenty seconds at a time. Getting bored with that quickly, he dampened the power and went back to cracking heads open and slicing vital veins. His and Lycelle's backs were pressed together once again, and he had no time or inclination to argue with her anymore.
She could fight; he would give her that. And with the divine rage invading every cell, he couldn't think of much else but the battle. It wasn't until they'd killed a few werewolves and made it past some of the worst fighting that he saw it. At first, he wanted to deny what his eyes were witnessing, but he couldn't. If the Dementor hadn't been guarding him, he would have fallen during the space of disbelief that was strong enough to knock his concentration to shit. Because he knew that face, that form, those eyes. He also now knew who Slytherin's traitor was, as impossible as it seemed, and that traitor had just planted a knife in its lover's back. Literally.
He had to find Draco and Blaise.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
"Hello, brother."
Virginia didn't know what to think as the two look-alikes' gave her boyfriends an impossible title. Brothers? How? And her lovers' tight mental shielding wasn't helping her confusion. She didn't like the sudden, caliginous light in their eyes, didn't like how it clashed with the utterly blank expressions that they had donned. Because that made her think that it might be true, that they might seriously be standing before siblings that she'd had no idea that they'd had. And if so, had they known? Surely the melding of their souls through the Marks would have revealed something like that. And she couldn't ask now, not with them locked away inside their own minds.
Then she had a very simple revelation. She would just ask Cocidius.
'My Lord?'
'What is it? Speak quickly, beloved.' He replied, and she could feel Him tensing for battle.
'These…These clones, are they truly my lovers' brothers?' She felt Him turn His attention to the two she spoke of.
'Yes.' That one word cut through her like a knife. 'Now, brace yourself. I cannot shield you from this.'
That was all the warning she had, and she barely had time to reach out and pull her lovers to the ground with her before the explosion of divine power crashing into divine power flattened everyone on the field. She braced herself against it and vaguely felt her boyfriends' arms tightening around her as they used themselves to shield her from the flying debris and the crushing backlash of energy. Then it was over as quickly as it had begun, and her Lord's battle fury filled her to the brim and more. It did not cloud her thoughts, but stayed dormant until she was ready to call on it, and it made everything startlingly clear, like His presence always did.
Then her lovers were rising and extending pale hands to her, and she took them unthinkingly. It was only when she had her feet underneath her again and her eyes met hers that she froze. Because there was something new in their familiar, black-ringed eyes, and it seemed to trigger something inside of her. It was as if she'd been split in half and somehow put together again all at once. It was glorious, exalted and august, and it was felt so right even though it was the strangest feeling that she'd ever experienced. A small noise drew her attention, and her head snapped around to where the Dark Lords were also rising. Let the games begin, part of her taunted.
"And who are you to claim such blood-ties to my lovers?" She found herself demanding before she'd even thought about speaking. Those identical eyes that had so disturbed her at first didn't even faze her that time, and she met their cold gazes unflinchingly, even as the battle began raging around them again. She knew, somehow, that nothing would try to attack them while they were all together. "Speak!"
"Do not think to command us, fire witch." The one that moved and spoke and looked so much like Draco said, and she laughed.
"I will do as I please." She said, and she could feel her boyfriends smirking languidly at her haughty tone, could feel their approval and support, even without the Marks open. "Now answer the question. Unless you cannot?" She said the last coyly, and watched anger wash over their faces. Voldemort stayed still, seeming to enjoy the exchange, and she ignored him for the moment.
"We are flesh of their flesh, blood of their blood." Both of the look-alikes replied in unison, and it was inexplicably odd to see them pull that perfectly synchronized trick, a trick that her lovers used so often.
"Sounds flaky to me." She said smoothly, even though she knew it to be truth. She wanted to get a rise out of them, for anger always made the words flow faster when managed correctly, and she succeeded. The annoyance on their sculpted faces increased, and she knew that her lovers' amusement was increasing as well.
"Shut up! You know nothing." The Blaise look-alike said acidly, and the real thing took a step forward, contained violence boiling just under the surface and ready to explode.
"Then by all means, do enlighten us." Her boyfriend crooned, and his mirror image snarled.
"You." He hissed, and Blaise merely cocked an eyebrow. "You are weak. So much power, but too weak to do the smart thing and join with us. You hold fortunes that should be ours, magic that should be ours, and you are not even using either to support the side that you know will win. For nothing can beat back the darkness, no amount of light."
"Whoever said anything about beating the darkness?" Blaise asked, a glazed look settling over those crimson eyes that did not bode well for the one he was thinking about killing. "We fight for the darkness, for our Lord and the Great Lady. We fight for the void and for our love; we fight for purity and old honor. We fight to make our people great again, and all you do is fight to destroy them by elevating a fucking mudblood to rule." He said, a cruel edge in his voice that would send most people screaming, and Draco continued for him with that easy symmetry that they'd always had.
"We would kill every witch and wizard walking this Realm ourselves before seeing the sickness that you represent make them into brainless slaves, before seeing you taint the water and foul the soil until nothing grew or lived at all without your blessing." His red eyes were blazing and freezing at the same time, the black rings around them starting to swirl, and his voice was like a poisoned dagger dipped in liquid velvet.
"Not a very nice way to address your kin, Draco." His mercury-haired look-alike tsked, a severely unpleasant smile winding across his face.
"State your claims to our bloodlines and get it over with." Draco said, rolling his eyes. His counterpart sneered.
"Fine." Those rusty wings beat the air once, twice, before settling again. "Our father, Lucius, he and Jeran agreed to participate in a sort of…experiment."
"Really." Draco replied, not phrasing it as a question. His look-alike nodded.
"Oh, yes." He agreed, his smile somehow turning even nastier.
"They, along with Voldemort," the other continued for him, glancing at the third Dark Lord as he spoke, "wanted to create something new. Something that had never been tried before. They succeeded, as you can see."
"And just what are you, then?" Blaise questioned, nothing but mild curiosity on his face. He and Draco had both sunken deep into those dark, unfeeling places that they'd built within themselves long ago, and she had retreated to her own as well, although that strange part of her didn't seem affected anyway.
"Well, to understand that, you have to know how we were made." The other Draco said, moving the smallest bit closer.
"Three months after Voldemort was resurrected," the other Blaise started, "when you two first refused to join him upon your majorities, he had an idea. He asked our fathers, and they agreed. They brought our mothers in one night, drugged and insensible, and they fucked them stupid, or so we're told." He said, watching them closely for any reaction as the other Draco picked up where he left off.
"We were conceived that night, and as soon as they could feel the new sparks of life, they called on the Low Lord and Dagda. They…infused us; they made us what we are. We grew quickly, and our mothers gave birth to us before the night's end. We were left in Voldemort's charge, and he has raised us, taught us the true path. We equal you in age, though we have barely seen two and a half years."
"You lie. Rapid growth and development to that degree is not possible." Virginia said, and they just looked at her. Then she saw something, something forming in their eyes that she couldn't help but recognize. Hellfire. That could mean only one thing, since she knew that none of the High Kings had given them the gift.
"Demon spawn!" She and her lovers exclaimed as one, and they could feel Cocidius's disgust as He heard their words and felt their thoughts, as He confirmed with one glance through them what they suspected. The two look-alikes laughed, and it was not a very nice sound. Not at all.
"Oh, so now you believe." They taunted in unison, and she knew that her lovers' patience was wearing thin in a deadly way. They seemed to sense it too, because they scooted just a little bit closer before they spoke again. "We are you, just you as you should have been instead of you the way that you've actually turned out. We are not quite human and not quite demon, but a mix of both that has never been seen before."
"And a mix that will never be seen again." Her lovers replied, their voices so bland and dull that one would have just thought from hearing them that they were completely unaffected.
She knew, without any metaphysical help but through long hours of just watching them, that that was not true. They didn't like this, any of it. No one could really find out that they had demonic little brothers and not feel something, be it disgust or repulsion or fear. But they feared nothing, she knew that and it scared her, because people who are not frightened when faced with anything you can throw at them are not the most careful people, either. And her lovers were careful, but usually only when it came to everyone's safety but their own. She thought that that was the reason they had been together since birth.
Sort of like the gods' way of keeping them safe. Because if they hadn't had the other there with them all of those long, tormented, twisting years, who would have looked out for them? Who would have stopped them from turning their magic against themselves and ending their agony? Who would have dressed their wounds and healed their souls? No, she knew that they had been put together for more than one reason, and that was just one of them. They were soul-twins; that much was obvious to anyone who truly knew either of them, and it was what made their relationship with her possible, what made it function as well as it did.
Because if they didn't know each other so well, if they weren't almost the same person after so many years so forging themselves together in order to save what was left of their souls, then the dark blood in their veins would have driven them to bloodshed over sharing a mate eventually. But Draco hurting Blaise would be like him carving out his own heart and eating it, and Blaise hurting Draco would be just the same. Spells and magick and plain, age-old love had molded them into the creatures they were, had tied their spirits together until they had a bond that surpassed simple brotherhood or friendship, one strong enough to let them love her just as much.
So no, you didn't get one without the other, but then, how could you and who would want to? One would be nothing more than a wraith without it's other half, just as Fred would be lost and broken without George. Both had sunken claws and teeth into her soul, and she'd long ago given her heart freely to each. Their love for her had grown over the months until it shone as clearly in them as their love for each other, and she knew no greater gift that she could have been given by god or man alike. She would do anything for them, even if she had to save them from themselves. And seeing the looks on their faces then, she realized that she might need to.
"So you think."
The imposters' voices brought her out of her thoughts and back to the blood-soaked field and the rushing figures that swarmed around them on all sides, bleeding and crying and dying. Voldemort took a step forward, something glittered on his chest, and both of her lovers' eyes narrowed in on whatever had just sparkled in the moonlight. Then Blaise hissed and Draco stiffened, and she looked harder. It was one of their amulets. How the fuck had he gotten that? When they'd done the spell to make them unbreakable after Pansy's abduction, they had also made them impossible to remove from anyone that was unwilling to hand the piece of jewelry over.
"Ah." Voldemort hummed, as if he knew exactly what had drawn their attention. "Curious, are you?"
"Who gave that to you?" Draco inquired, and she knew how hard it was for him not to attack and be done with it.
The Marks were still shut, but somehow, she was still able to read their emotions as if they weren't. It was weaker, but working all the same, and she suddenly seemed to understand; it was like a sort of enlightenment. They had forged their own soul-ties during their time together, ties that were overshadowed by the Marks most of the time but there all the same. As soulmates it was expected, but with the Marks, they'd never thought to check and see if they had. She knew now, though, and she knew something else. She was almost positive where that pendant had come from, and it was her fault that Voldemort had been able to get it.
"Hermione." She said aloud before she'd even considered moving her lips, and the soft, dangerous smile that lit up Voldemort's face was all the confirmation that they needed. Her lovers turned their attention to her even though they kept their eyes on the enemy, and even that new (yet somehow old) part of her couldn't stop her from feeling guilty, because it felt guilty too, but in a way that had more to do with oaths and allegiance than love and affection, although that was there as well.
"What?" They both asked, and she knew they asked more than one question with that single word. Like, 'how did Hermione get one of our amulets?', and 'how the hell do you know that?', and she didn't want to answer either, because it made her feel slightly nauseous, as if she'd betrayed their trust even though she knew that she hadn't and never would. But paranoia was paranoia, and without the Marks open, she couldn't stop it.
"It's Hermione's amulet." She said with certainty, trying to keep her voice even. Had that odd part of her not been as embarrassed as she was, it would have kept her arrogant and sure of herself. But it was, and both halves of her were waiting for the looks she knew she would receive when she explained, but there was no preparing for it. All she knew was that if they looked at her the way that she'd seen Blaise look at his mother that day at the Manor, as if they'd never seen her before and didn't like what they were seeing at all, she knew that her heart would probably shatter on the spot.
"And why," Draco asked ever-so-slowly, "would that mudblooded whore have had one of those?" So much meaning in a single sentence. Her lungs clenching, she took a deep breath even though she had no real use for breathing besides simple pleasure in the act anymore, but there was no pleasure in that long, indrawn breath. Her decision on the matter had complicated things horribly, because with that amulet, Voldemort had just gained more protection from their power than she even wanted to think about. And if she blamed herself this badly, what would they do?
"Because I gave her one." She left Padma out of it, since there was no reason to drag her into this mess, too. They looked at her, only briefly, as if she'd sprouted a second head, but the look changed into something that she hadn't expected before they turned their eyes back to the others. Understanding.
"You still trust too easily." They said neutrally, but there was no condemnation in their voices, and she was more grateful than she could say. It was a pardon, of sorts, their way of letting her know that they did not blame her. And with that release of guilt, all of her arrogance and determination came back threefold.
"You do not care that her foolishness will keep you from killing me? You have made these charms quite powerful, and though you could break through them if they were worn by someone weaker, I am not weak." Voldemort said, the slightest trace of disbelief in his words, and they simply stared at him a moment before replying.
"No."
"Then you are fools as well." Voldemort stated, and the clones to either side of him grinned cruelly in agreement.
"We shall see."
And then, without any warning what so ever, her lovers threw the Marks open and attacked. The link stretched wide, and she could feel Padma and the twins, could feel them fighting their own battle and moving closer to them at the same time, and she could distantly feel Pansy and Anton through the new ties they'd begun forging with them and through the rings. Like a siren's call, Draco and Blaise's release of dark magick was like an irresistible beacon to them, and all five came towards it like drowning victims that needed air desperately. The suddenness of the attack actually caught the others off guard, and all three Dark Lords fell.
But they were not eaten up by the dark flames like anyone else would have been. Instead, they threw them off after a moment and rose, calling on their own power. Then the look-alikes were airborne, Draco's going for Blaise and Blaise's going for Draco. She didn't have time to wonder at that, though, because Voldemort's attention was all for her. Meeting his eyes, she saw how badly he craved revenge for her poisoning, for her insolence. Draco and Blaise were both fully occupied, and she knew that she was on her own for this one. As soon as she thought it, it was as if she could feel the wheel of fate turn ever-so-slightly.
He came at her fast and hard and she threw up one hand, not to block him with magick, but to catch the fist aimed at her face. As soon as she had it, she kicked out with one leg and twisted sideways and to the ground, dragging him down with her. Her boot knife was in her hand and in his stomach seconds later, and she heard his hiss of pain before she felt an answering stab to her own abdomen. Adrenaline rushing through her, she opened herself up to that divine rage that had been waiting for her to acknowledge it and set it free, and she was suddenly looking through a different pair of eyes; her Lord's own.
She saw Him locked into battle with Zeus, felt Him wondering if He had the power to beat a High King, and felt His brief shock when it was easier than He'd ever imagined. Zeus crumpled before Him and became the first to fall from the sky and hit the battlefield before bursting apart as if He'd exploded. She felt the aftermath from both her own body and from her Lord's, felt His attention turning as Jupiter came at Him. Then she was herself again, His power cloaking her like a familiar second skin, and not three seconds had passed in reality. The earth was still shaking from Zeus's impact, and Voldemort had been knocked away from her with it.
She knew that the High King wasn't dead, but He was vanquished all the same, and that vanquishing gave her Lord power, which in turn gave His Chosen power. That power healed the wound in her stomach in seconds instead of the usual minute or two since it had been made with pure silver, and that power pulled her to her feet again and gave her the speed to block Voldemort's next, rushing attack. Instinct chose the wall of flames, and instinct saved her when he went right through them thanks to that damned amulet. She had just enough time to throw herself backwards before he would have crashed into her.
She watched him soar right over her as if in slow motion, and she seemed to have all of the time in the world to reach out with one hand and gut him. But he seemed to have all of the time in the world as well, and she only got one claw to slice through him before he flipped sideways mid-movement. And, she realized with a start, he'd gotten her, too. A long cut wound down her face from her temple to her chin, and the sudden flare of pain brought with it a burning fury. That other part of her that had been mostly in the background rushed forward and fit around and inside of her soul as if it had always been meant to do so, and she screamed.
Her lovers echoed her, and she wondered if they were experiencing the same thing. The tingling Marks told her that yes, they definitely were. Their sudden shouts threw the others briefly off track, and they all attacked simultaneously. They moved as one, thought as one, and they'd done so before by opening the link so wide, but it had never been as perfect and flowing and unconscious. She felt her claws rip into the side of Voldemort's face at the same time that theirs ripped into those faces that looked so very much like the other's, but for the eyes. As one, they lashed out again and knocked their opponents to the slushy ground.
Leaping on top of hers, she wrapped one hand in all of Voldemort's dark hair and pulled up at the same time that she brought her fist down. Bone slammed into bone and she felt his give underneath hers, saw his lip burst open and heard his jaw break. His own shot out a second later and got her in the side of the throat, but she wasn't concerned about that. She was concerned about her boyfriends just discovering that their look-alikes each had one of their amulets, too. That she had nothing to do with, but it didn't stop it from being a very, very bad thing. If their Elemental magic wouldn't work, then that cut them off from half of their options.
And fighting darkfire and hellfire with darkfire and hellfire was never a wise idea. She saw their future narrow down as Voldemort threw her off of him and hit her again, saw them run out of choices, saw their defeat, and all because of objects that they'd made to protect ones they'd trusted. But the betrayal of that trust, the willing hands that had handed over their destruction, had just signed their death warrant. She felt her boyfriends acknowledge that fact, and their fighting grew all the fiercer for it. But hers didn't. The rage actually died away, replaced by an eerie calm that burned as hot as her anger had.
With one decisive kick, she knocked Voldemort a few feet away and grasped her opportunity for all it was worth. She had no idea if it would work, she had no idea what would happen if it did, but she knew that she was out of options, because she could feel her Lord, and He was surrounded and trapped, unable to help her. The High Kings of Heaven, but for Dagda, had teamed up on Him when they'd seen Him cast Zeus from the sky, and He couldn't fight them all at once. The Dark Kings were embroiled in fights of their own, and could not aid Him. That really left them with only one choice, and she felt the Isisian Charm slide from underneath her skin.
"I wish for the Lady, I wish for Twilight's Pride!" She whispered desperately as she threw a third of the charm at the ground, and the hard metal shattered when it hit not because the ground was hard, but because her wish had been made.
There was a ferocious scream from above her, divine and fearsome, and she turned her eyes to the sky just in time to see Isis cast down one of the traitor gods as she began to glow more brightly than before. Then the world was spinning, shifting, and Virginia was not on the battlefield, but in a place of no light and no sound that had become too familiar to her for her not to know where she was. The void. And then the darkness around her changed, moved, and she felt the brush of the Lady for the first time in months, since She'd first submerged Herself. It was rapture, ecstasy, and she cried out wordlessly in entreaty.
"You have a choice." That purring voice said, getting straight to the point, as if She knew that even where they were, they didn't have much time. "Many paths lay ahead of you right now, paths I have told you about in parts before and that you have Seen yourself. Time and destiny collide and rush forward like never before, and it is time for the First Born to decide the future once more."
"The First Born?" She managed to choke out, and a laugh like silky velvet slid over her skin, if she even had skin where she was.
"You, my child, you and your lovers and your forth. Touched by deity at your births, touched by me. As the Fake Ones were marked with demon spirit, you and yours were marked with mine. Many visions show themselves to me, and I knew there was something special about you four, something that called to me. Through my touch, you are First Born, the first among your people for much too long."
"What Draco said that day on the pitch…" Virginia thought to herself, but thoughts were turned into words in this place, and the Lady heard her as clearly as if she'd spoken aloud.
"Yes. He knew not why he spoke such a thing, only that it was true. But now, now you must make your decision, just as they must make theirs. And so must she." With that last word, Padma appeared next to her, suspended in the living darkness of the Lady, her eyes shining with the same bliss that Virginia felt.
"What decision, my lady?"
"I can give you the power to destroy your enemies. I can give you the key to your success. But everything comes with a price, and yours will be an eternal one." She told them gently, yet firmly, and they stayed perfectly still as She continued speaking. "I took Cocidius as my Consort, but that will change this day if you accept your true fate. He will not simply be that to me anymore, and with that change, you will be accessible to me in ways that weren't possible before. The four of you will be my Chosen as well."
"Y-Yours, my lady?" They asked, and that laugh wrapped around them like an embrace.
"Yes, mine. Mine and his. But you two, because you are female, can commune with me in ways that the two princes cannot, the same way that their connection with Cocidius is a bit deeper than yours due to their sex. You can become my vessels, my eyes and ears and hands on earth. You can become my living representation, my voice and my true children. But the price is that you will never be free of it. You will walk the earth until the day that it ends, until the day that the planet finally dies and there is no more life left for you to look after. Only then can I call you home, only then may you Pass."
Her addictive voice drifted off into nothing, leaving Virginia and Padma with their thoughts. Did they want that life? Eternity in concept was one thing, but the Lady spoke of eons and eons of walking the Shadow Realm, eons and eons of watching those they grew to care for grow old and die again and again, and there would be no escape. But…Draco and Blaise's faces drifted through her mind, and eternity suddenly didn't seem nearly so horrible. She felt Padma having the same thoughts, but the faces in her mind were different, different and very familiar, framed by red hair and splattered with a light brushing of freckles across alabaster skin.
"We will serve." They said together, and as the words left their lips, they seemed so right that both parts of them cried out with joy. The Lady actually howled, a thrumming, primal sound that they felt to their cores, and Her next words were so pleased that they almost brought them to orgasm just hearing them.
"Then embrace yourselves, my beloved stars, embrace both halves of what you are and know true Sight."
They did as She said, how could they not? And as soon as those two halves truly melded together, they did See. They Saw the past, the present and the future; they saw all and nothing. It was like a slideshow started in their minds, and she could feel that neither she nor Padma had expected what they were Seeing. They Saw the six of them together, many, many times before this life. Saw them standing side by side in cities long fallen to dust. Saw them unleashing the elements on an enemy horde millennia ago. Saw them covered from head to foot in blood and gore, leading an army that ripped its way through an invading civilization that history knew nothing of.
There were flashes of battle and peace in so many different places and on so many different worlds that they couldn't begin to keep track of it all. They knew the memories were accessible when needed, however, and it gave them both a sense of comfort. Then they Saw the twins, just the twins, Saw them fighting for them time and time again, and they always healed them afterwards, loved them and soothed the pain when the death and slaughter began to weigh on their souls. And they knew why the twins fought for them, why they had been created for it before time began. They knew why it had been so important to Cocidius that they Mark them, now.
Because their power, their true, unleashed power, Elemental and Dark alike, where they held nothing back, could heal a world...or destroy it. It was a fine line that they walked, and the twins did everything in their power to ease the burden, just as the four of them eased theirs. They were as much a part of them as they were of each other, and had been from the very beginning. Then, as the centuries and millennia sped past and they watched themselves change and die and live again and again, two more shadows joined with theirs, making them eight and whole in an entirely new way. She caught a glimpse of their eyes, of honey and hazel, and she knew them instantly. Pansy and Anton.
No wonder they'd been drawn so strongly to bond with them through magick the last few months. Then the images picked up speed, and they were nothing more than a blur for a long moment, messy and smeared together. Then, like a window being wiped free of mud, they Saw clearly again. They Saw Fred kneeling over Padma and shielding her unconscious form while Pansy distracted Parvati, they Saw George shielding Virginia while Anton dueled the Dark Lord. They Saw Draco and Blaise, Saw them falter as some sort of divine illusion grabbed a hold of them and made the leathery wings of their opponents morph into feathers before their eyes.
Blue and silver turned crimson and black-ringed to match theirs, and with the illusion came confusion, confusion spells stronger than any they'd ever felt before, and suddenly, the one they were cutting up wasn't an enemy, but a beloved. Draco looked down the sword he'd just shoved into the fake Blaise's chest as if it had come alive and bit him, while Blaise's eyes were glued to the gaping wound in the fake Draco's throat that he'd just made. They fought the magick even though they couldn't feel it at work on them, fought it because they could not believe what they were seeing to be true, fought it because there would be no return from madness for them if it were.
They reached out for her for confirmation, reached out for her so that she could tell them they hadn't just landed lethal blows to one another instead of their counterparts. But she was not there, she was with the Lady and unreachable, but they didn't know that. They just knew that her body was empty, and both stopped fighting the confusion spells immediately when they thought of what that must mean. She watched them start to sink to the ground, watching the glow from their skin start to die and fade, and she screamed against it, tried to reach out to them, but the last thing she Saw as the image changed again was the internal agony in their eyes.
Then she was staring at herself, and realized that she was looking into a mirror. But it wasn't really her, just the 'her' in the vision, and when it pulled back a bit, she would have gasped had she been able to draw breath in the void. For she was clad in a traditional wedding gown, but for the fact that it was midnight black. Her hair looked like spun rubies lying against it, and the veil was a silver so metallic that it looked like spilled mercury. The elaborate runes stitched all over the black cloth like stars were done in the same shocking silver, and her face was glowing with a sense of happiness and utter joy that rocked her to her core and back again.
Then the vision shattered, as if a hammer had slammed into the imagined mirror, and the Lady's voice permeated all.
"You have made your choice. Now come with me, and we shall witness them make theirs. We shall witness a new dawn."
It was like rising and falling all at the same time, like rushing headfirst through a tunnel and not having any idea of where you're going or how to stop. There were no brakes but for the Lady's will, and their trust in Her was complete, or they would have been screaming and panicking at the sense of crushing pressure to either side of them, the sense that if She let them go, they would be dead in seconds. Then they were back in their own bodies, mostly anyway, and she bolted out of George's arms so quickly that he nearly fell back and out of his shield. She burst through it, the Lady's will moving her this way and that.
'As promised, here is what you need to win.' The Lady said, mind-to-mind, and a moment later, a wild, savage Harry Potter was snapping at her heels like a crazed dog.
He had a collar on and not much else but skimpy, patent leather straps, and there was a clear engraving across the band of gold around his throat. Grabbing him by it and making sure to keep those clacking teeth away from her skin, she nearly dropped him when she read what it said, and then she started laughing. 'Voldemort's Royal Pet.' Oooh, that was just too much. Still snickering, she drug him with her as she went to her lovers', both of whom were just getting back to their feet, obviously sensing her return, which gave them strength. Feeding Anton and Pansy power through the rings, she gave her boyfriends her full attention.
As soon as her eyes met theirs fully, both shuddered and fell back down. Distantly, she felt Cocidius suddenly convulse, felt the Lady asking something of Him. He said yes to whatever it was, and a second later, His eternal flame burned so brightly that it blinded even the other gods. That something that they'd all felt in the ether, that something that they'd thought had to do with Dagda and a weapon to kill gods, became remarkably clear. It had nothing to do with Dagda, and everything to do with Cocidius. He held a new power in His hands, in His soul, a power that had never before been seen by any, and she knew instinctively what it meant.
Cocidius held the power to truly kill a god. Cocidius held the power of life or death over beings that had never even remotely had to consider that type of fear. But she wasn't the only one to sense the sudden change, and that fear became known to the other deities with a rush. They all fell back from Him in waves, until He stood alone and proud in their center, His face lit with wonder and wisdom. Then she was looking through a different set of eyes at the Lady's prompting, and she felt her lovers leave their bodies as well. She saw their spirits hover before their Lord, saw them kneel and reach for Him. He embraced them, before telling them almost exactly what the Lady had told her.
But there was more.
"But that is not all, precious Chosen." Cocidius's husky voice rolled over them. "For thee knows what blood runs in thy veins, and it is time for thee both to choose that destiny if thee wish it. I will not force it on thee, but the question is this: How far does thy ambition stretch? Does thee wish to rule?"
"Rule, my lord?" Her lovers questioned, and their golden lord gave a slight nod. "Rule what?"
"The Shadow Realm."
Silence. Then, "All of it?"
"Yes. It is thy birthright if thee wishes to claim it."
The world spun and changed yet again, and she was back in her body, her fangs in Harry's neck, his blood filling her mouth. She felt him make his choice, felt him fight the Bane enough to scream 'Yes!' inside her head loud enough to hurt. Everything after that happened so quickly that it was blurred, yet as clear as day. She passed him to her lovers, who filled their mouths as well, and they passed him to Padma, who was just suddenly there. Moving not just of their own accord but also of their masters', they took destiny by the throat and carved what they wished in it. She was on Voldemort in seconds, her lovers were on their clones, and Padma had taken down Parvati in the blink of an eye.
Lips pressed to lips, the blood of the Needed One thick on their tongues, his choice made it deadly with the power of foretelling. It reminded her of the last poisoned kiss they had shared, but this time she shoved her power and her Lord's and Lady's in after it, shoved it down and down until she felt it ripping into the shriveled thing he passed off as a heart. Half of her stayed there, straddling the Dark Lord as she killed him oh-so-slowly, and the other half rode in Cocidius as He moved from His isolation in a blast of energy, going straight for Dagda. The tainted god tried to ward Him off, tried to slow Him, but it was useless.
Divine hands wrapped around divine flesh, and Cocidius sucked the energy straight out of Him, sucked it out through His hands and into His skin. But it wasn't enough, wasn't close enough, and His lips met Dagda's and brought Him His doom. Dagda and His Chosen screamed and screamed as they died, and the two that were tied to demons tried to use those ties, calling up the lower demons as one would call an old friend or a lover. But Draco countered them, setting free the demon mark on his hand that was usually concealed by glamour spells, and she felt the Deep Lord that owed him respond to the summons, felt it rein in those that would have come to try and free them and that would have wreaked utter havoc in the process.
Voldemort convulsed underneath her, the last of his life pouring into her, and through her, into her lovers, Padma, Cocidius and the Lady. She could feel the energy of the ones that they were draining as well, and she reveled in the power, reveled in the unimagined strength that filled them until they felt as though they would burst. Then Cocidius reached up, just before the last of Dagda slipped away inside Him, and ripped the High Crown from His head. The sky screamed and the earth split underneath their feet, Voldemort slumped lifelessly beneath her, and the Dark Royals roared in triumph. And she felt something growing inside her.
It was like a huge, hot wave of flames, flames that couldn't be quenched. She found herself next to the other three who completed her suddenly, and then the four that completed them. All eight joined their minds, joined the power of their rings, and together, they knew what to do. The power rushed out from them like an explosion, widening and widening like the ripples on the surface a pond when a rock is thrown in. It swarmed over everyone on the field, sparing no one, but it didn't stop there. They felt it hit countless numbers of witches and wizards, avoiding muggles, felt it slam into them, washing away corruption and sickness.
And still it rushed out, touching that piece of the old magick inside them and…connecting with it in a way. So many affected, and it took less than two minutes before rushing back to them. It engulfed them again and filled them with power, almost feeding them in a way, tying them ever closer together. They were vibrating with the amount of magick they were holding, and she absently realized that the very earth was trembling. She felt giddy and ethereal, high on a magickal rush unlike any she'd ever experienced, and she felt plugged in to something huge, like she was a tiny dot in the center of a web connected to so many more tiny little dots.
A feeling of unity with all those thousands upon thousands of others engulfed her, a feeling of protectiveness that was shadowed with eternal duty, and she didn't fight the strange binding. Suddenly she realized what the other part of her was, realized that it hadn't just appeared, but that it had been buried inside her until it was time fir it to be released. A mighty roar shattered the heavens, and Dagda burst apart in a shower of ashes that were blackened and smoking. The last of the Bane's influence left the gods and the Death Eaters alike, Dagda's death cementing what hers and the others' strange release of power had started and clearing away the remnants of that foul touch from their hearts and minds.
"All hail Cocidius!" The first round of divine voices shouting that cry brought her back to some semblance of normalcy, and she watched wordlessly as her Lord was given a wide berth again, but this time out of respect and awe rather than fear, although that was still there, too.
"All hail Cocidius!" Again, the cry was taken up, that time with even more vigor, and the all the gods, but for the Kings and Queens, fell to their knees in the air, one by one, and with them fell the humans and dark creatures that stared up towards the sky in astonishment.
She could feel that they were still all connected by that invisible web, an invisible web that spanned the planet, connecting witch to wizard to witch to wizard in a way not felt in ages. Then, in a move that stunned even her Lord but surprised the Lady not at all, the three remaining Kings of Heaven strode forward, Jupiter and Odin and Amun-Ra, and they kneeled at Cocidius's feet with Heaven's High Queens beside them. The High Royals had never kneeled, and doing so meant that they considered themselves lower, weaker, and it was utterly unheard-of. Then, in a fluttering of sweeping black wings, Lucifer was there and shining in all of His glory, and the sun crested the horizon the slightest bit behind Him.
"Let us be one Court, one Kingdom, as we were always meant to be!" He cried in that voice that could seduce the coldest heart and then break it just as easily. "All hail Cocidius, High King of Heaven and Hell!"
"All hail Cocidius, High King of Heaven and Hell!" The other gods chorused, and the Dark Royals dropped to their knees as Lucifer did, until every deity in the sky was spread out at her Lord's feet.
Goosebumps spread over her skin, and with a rushing force, the Lady appeared in the air high above them, more felt than seen. It was as if the night sky had solidified and taken shape, and ripples of Her presence ran out through the ether so strongly that even the mortals felt it and recognized it. They went from their knees to their faces in seconds, Her majesty sweeping over gods and men and creatures that were neither or both. Draco and Blaise took to the air, shooting up until they were perched on a fallen giant, and they turned their faces skyward as if hearing a silent call. Cocidius turned His attention to them, and His voice reached every corner of the frozen field, traveled along that invisible web, and every person with magic in their veins heard His words, felt His words.
"Thy Sovereigns were stolen from thee long ago, but I return them to thee! The First Born walk the Realm again, and they will rule thee all! Behold my Chosen, my children, my voice on earth! Behold thy High Kings!" His voice swept out around and through them, rose the worship in them until it was nearly unbearable, and when He pulled it back, her lovers were high in the air and spinning, their bodies fractured with dark light as if they had so much inside of them that they couldn't keep it all inside.
"All hail the High Kings of the Shadow Realm!" Two voices cried, and she only recognized them for her own and Padma's after she had stopped speaking. Thousands upon thousands of voices echoed hers, and the words rose and fell like a hymn all over the field and through that mystical web.
She felt their rebirth, of sorts, felt Cocidius fill them with the stolen power of the four Dark Lords until it melded with their own and made them into something new, something different, and something much more deadly. They were Dark Lords and Elementals, a mix that shouldn't have been possible, and they were something else as well. Kings, her mind whispered to her in a low, sultry whisper, your lords and your loves. Then the Lady was there, filling her as never before, and everyone near her and Padma started backing away, their eyes torn between them and her lovers. A word slid through her mind, a name for what they were. Her boyfriends could go Godridden. But they were Ladyridden.
They felt Her start to move, felt Her swirl down and down until She stood before Cocidius, nothing but shifting shadows to mortal eyes, even though the mortals could feel what and who She was. And Virginia and Padma rose as She fell, until they practically floated in the air before Draco and Blaise, who had stopped their mad spinning and watched them with feral, imperial eyes. They knew not what they were doing until, wonder of wonders, they felt the Lady, the Pride of Twilight and the Mistress of the Void, drop to Her own knees before Cocidius and bow Her noble head. They mimicked Her immediately, falling to theirs gracefully before their High Kings, and Cocidius's surprise and shock hit them hard.
"Rise, Lady, for you need never kneel." Cocidius said, holding out a hand to all of those shadows unflinchingly. And Virginia knew, then, why the Lady loved her Lord. It was because He'd never flinched away from Her, never turned in fear from all of Her darkness. He loved Her, and She loved Him, and She would be His Queen, taking the place that had always been reserved for Her.
"As the Kings are your voice and mind in this Realm, I have chosen mine as well." The Lady said, and had anyone been able to find the sentience to speak, they would have fallen silent. As it was, no one could talk yet anyway. "Wind and Water, Ice and Lightning, they have agreed to become what they were born to be. And so have Fire and Earth, Flame and Gravity. They will be my High Priestesses, the first Night Brides to walk this Realm since the last Shadow Kings fell." Her words had barely died when Draco and Blaise pulled Virginia and Padma to their feet, and it was their voices that broke the silence that time, that acknowledged the parts of Virginia and Padma that they had only recognized themselves minutes before.
"All hail the Night Brides, beloved of the Dark Lady!"
Virginia and Padma echoed them with their own cry, and a mixture of both was shouted back to them from every throat, from every pair of lips.
"All hail the Shadow Kings, beloved of Cocidius!"
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Well, there you go! The last installment of this story will be posted a week or so from now, so watch for it! Thank you all so much for reading this story, and pleasepleaseplease review!