/ And the next chapter is ready - part two, after that tiny cliffhanger. It's getting a little AU now, but please enjoy, and as always, feel free to leave (constructive) feedback. /
Burn, Witch, Burn
"You could be my silver spring
Blue-green colors flashin'
I would be your only dream
Your shinin' autumn ocean crashin'."
- Stevie Nicks, Silver Springs
Chapter V: Any Last Words? [Part 2]
"Any last words?"
"Myrt …"
It seemed that for a moment, time had stopped passing, that the hands of every clock in this world had halted, frozen in their position.
Myrtle Snow was the only one who could see the strange figure that had approached the group of witches from behind, slowly and maybe even a little forced, as if walking became more and more difficult with each step taken. Yet, with the interfering person's voice echoing faintly through the air, Queenie and Zoe as well as the Supreme turned their heads to face the unwelcome intruder.
From a farther distance, it could have been difficult to make out who this approaching silhouette was, considering their usual grace and elegance now seemed replaced with a light struggle to remain in her current posture – God knows why that was – yet Myrtle Snow was fully aware who the intruder was, and her heart had skipped a beat the second she had heard her name spoken from this woman's rough voice, the second she laid eyes upon that unexpected visitor.
As if she was frozen, Myrtle did not move a muscle, merely her eyes were focused on the woman in black who slowly walked in between the young witches with the assistance of a cane (which made the impression of a fashionable accessory rather than a necessity), passing Cordelia and giving her a warning look.
"Fiona?"
"Cordelia, darling. I had sincerely hoped you'd be happier to see me alive." A smug, well-known smirk crossed the intruder's lips. "Don't you want to give your mother a welcoming hug?" A sarcastic chuckle followed the smirk and Fiona Goode, wearing one of her form-hugging black dresses combined with a pair of expensive heels, no matter the occasion, and a headscarf hiding her thinning hair, lifted her chin arrogantly.
"Not really."
"As I assumed", commented Fiona and shrugged it off carelessly. She tilted her head slightly, not yet paying any attention to the woman tied to the stake. Her full attention at this point was on her daughter. A triumphant smile embellished Fiona's lips for a brief moment. "Oh, I truly am a powerful witch", she said, "I tricked the new Supreme. Your most profound power betrayed you, thanks to my ingenious ways."
"Fiona, I really don't know why or what exactly you're on about, but we still have a goddamn business to-"
"Shut up, Delia. You have no say in this." Fiona Goode stood before her daughter like a queen would stand before her lower folk. A graceful, beautiful queen. "You see, you seem to forget that I am not dead", continued the older blonde with a light-hearted yet expressive half smirk, "That means you are not the Supreme, but I am. And that means, and I'm assuming you are not too dumb to know what I am talking about, Cordelia, your decreed sentence for Myrtle is invalid."
There was an expression of confusion plastered across Cordelia's face, but it seemed a hint of gratefulness – yes, gratefulness – mixed to that gradually. Indeed, the headmistress of the academy was grateful for her mother's unexpected resurrection from the dead because the burden of having to burn Myrtle Snow at the stake was now taken off of her shoulders. Of course, Cordelia was convinced that her mother was simply going to sentence Myrtle to death by fire again and do it herself, as the reigning Supreme of the coven.
"Fine. Then please, mother, feel free to pronounce another death sentence for Myrtle and do it yourself – that's what you want, right? To undermine your daughter yet again and have the last word, as always. Please, be my guest." It was obvious that Cordelia was displeased by Fiona's presence, their unhealthy relationship once again being what the younger Goode witch saw as an explanation for all of this.
In the meantime, standing motionlessly and quietly at the stake was Myrtle Snow herself, the subject of the other witches' conversation. Her eyes lingered on Fiona – it seemed all the heartbreak was gone within seconds, as if it never had been there to begin with. What was there, however, was confusion. Also Myrtle was confused, shocked and surprised, but most importantly, there was happiness. Unless Fiona would flick her fingers in a moment and set her on fire, of course.
"You have learnt nothing, darling. Try and stop explaining each of my actions with your hatred for me, will you?" With that, the blonde eventually turned her gaze toward the stake, her eyes meeting those of Myrtle's, even though both pairs of eyes were hidden behind black sunglasses. Myrtle Snow knew that Fiona was looking her right in the eye.
"Gentlemen", the real Supreme addressed the two men in suits, "Untie Myrtle from that thing, please, no one's gonna burn today."
This came as a surprise to Cordelia, who now gazed over at Zoe and Queenie. They, too, looked more than surprised.
Then there was Myrtle, who felt as if a heavy weight was being taken from pushing down onto her chest. No one was going to burn that day? The second one of the suited men undid the ropes that clung tightly to her body, once she was free to move again (aside from the smelly liquid covering her), the redheaded witch could not fight a faint smile from appearing on her dry lips – Fiona had come to this place to save Myrtle – that was it, or was it? It must have been, otherwise the Supreme would have never made the effort to find them on time. She would have never asked for Myrtle to be untied from the stake again.
Slowly, the flame-haired woman began striding down the small hill of rocks, only to overhear some more of mother and daughter's little chat.
"This doesn't make sense – where the hell have you been?"
"Stop with your silly questions, I'll explain later – or how about you use your real vision for a change, darling?"
"For God's sake, Fiona, what is going on? Mind explaining it to me right now?" Fiona ignored her daughter's words purposely, merely waving her hand in her direction as a sign for her to stop talking. Rolling her eyes then, Cordelia folded her arms in front of her chest.
"Myrtle – wouldn't it have been a shame for you to be burnt illegitimately? Even I consider that beneath those minute remnants of dignity you still have somewhere underneath that unflattering haircut of yours." Fiona smirked deviously at the redhead once she was stood in front of the Supreme – with that undying urge to pull her into an embrace, yet, as Fiona had just said herself, Myrtle still had dignity.
"Always ready for a flattering compliment, aren't we, Fiona?" Myrtle's comment was spoken just as deviously, almost as if there never had been anything between them – as if their kiss had never happened, as if Fiona had not just saved Myrtle Snow's life.
A chuckle slipped from the Supreme's lips.
"I'll speak to you later, Myrt. Oh, and take a shower, you stink of gasoline." With that, the blonde woman with her walking stick turned on her heels and elegantly strode past Queenie and Zoe, who both had been observing the scene closely. For some reason, Myrtle thought to herself, Fiona's movements did not seem to be as weak as they had been anymore – as if something had given her new energy.
Just moments later, the Supreme had left a group of still rather stunned witches behind – and a more than pleased Myrtle Snow. On the inside, yes, her emotions were running wild, thoughts spinning inside her mind, yet she outwardly appeared calm and pleased.
At this time of day, the sun was already approaching the edge of the horizon tardily. One still inwardly shaken Myrtle Snow, now showered and made up properly, moved along the hallways of Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies as lowly as possible – soon knocking steadily on the door to the Supreme's bedroom.
"Come in."
"Fiona?", Myrtle whispered as she popped her head inside the room, seeing her nemesis relaxing on her bed. She wore a dark satin dressing gown and a glass of red wine was settled on the nightstand beside her bed. Moving further into the room, the flame-haired witch closed the door behind herself and before she could speak or even think any more, she was interrupted by the rough voice belonging to Fiona Goode.
"Come sit", said Fiona rather weakly, patting the space beside her on the edge of the king size bed, suggesting for Myrtle to take a seat close to her.
In all honesty, the redhead was fighting with herself – she wanted to burst into tears, wrap her arms around Fiona carelessly and let her know how glad she was that the Supreme was still alive. On the other hand, she felt like scolding the blonde for doing such a cruel thing to her, making her believe that she had died and then hiding away for so long.
The feelings were stirring within Myrtle.
"I'm glad you're alive, Fiona."
"I'm glad you are alive, redhead." Reaching out to pick up her wine tumbler, Fiona gave the other woman a wry smirk. Somewhere, there seemed to be some warmth hidden behind that smirk.
"Why?", asked said redhead once she had made herself comfortable next to Fiona on the mattress, despite sitting there rather stiffly, a little tensed. Nervous, maybe. Her upper body facing the Supreme, she allowed her blue eyes to scan the woman's facial features carefully through her vintage classes, searching for any possible hint of emotion, anything that could give away what this woman truly felt. Felt for Myrtle. If there was anything to find there in the first place.
"You're asking me why? Haven't you figured it out by yourself yet, darling?"
"Figured out what exactly, Fiona?"
A silence fell between them, the only sound was the now empty wine glass clinking as it was set back onto the nightstand. For a brief moment, Fiona 's gaze lingered on said glass before she locked her orbs with Myrtle's.
"Don't play stupid now, Myrt. You've surely concluded that I don't hate you, haven't you?"