/ This really took me ages and I am so sorry. Hope you'll enjoy it, anyway. Please feel free to leave (constructive) feedback. /

Burn, Witch, Burn

"The supreme art of war
is to subdue the enemy
without fighting."
- Sun Tzu

Chapiter VII: Just Keep Your Mouth Shut

"Myrtle, would you finally talk to me? Fiona doesn't speak a word to me about what happened, which I didn't expect any differently, but you? Aren't you usually so eager to define and pinpoint everything, despite all the metaphors you always use to confuse me? Now you're not even using met-"

"Delia."

The fireheaded fashionista turned her body to shoot her non-biological daughter a more or less unimpressed look. Two days ago, Myrtle Snow had been sentenced to burn to death at the stake before the real Supreme, Fiona Goode, saved her from her unfortunate fate. Followed by the scene visible to the public witch eye, another more private and more confusing scene had followed in the bedroom of Fiona's.

Uncertain whether the conversation the redhead's had with the Supreme had eventually taken an unexpected or expected turn, Myrtle was, all in all, satisfied with the occurrence. However, neither Fiona nor the Guardian of Veracity in the Vernacular dared to speak a word to anyone involved - mainly Cordelia, their daughter.

Their daughter?

The immediate thought caused for Myrtle to uphold her thin eyebrows for a brief moment before shaking her head and it off of her mind - for the time being, at least. Most definitely, it was an idea that deserved to be taken care of later on.

"Myrtle, please - you both act like you're keeping a state secret from me."

Cordelia's dark brown eyes, matching those of Fiona's, exuded what could be identified as either confusion or rather a mix of uncertainty and aggravation about the situation. The whole secrecy affair between her mother and Myrtle was slowly driving her wild - something was definitely going on.

For a moment there, the headmistress of Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies considered using her ability of second sight - she would, if Myrtle did not spill the truth within the following five minutes.

"With all that's happened in the past few weeks, I'm merely a little thoughtful - as for Fiona, I wouldn't know what's bothering her, my dear."

The redhead had concern in her eyes, concern that was covered by her huge vintage glasses. After remaining still for a split second, Myrtle turned back to the kitchen counter in order to put a pair of freshly cleaned mugs and plates back into the cupboard above the sink.

Two mugs and two plates?

A deep frown found its way onto Cordelia's forehead, pupils scanning the older witch's exterior closely. From her gloved hands along her arms, over her fluffy-haired head, down her petite frame that was, as per usual, wrapped into high quality fabrics swirling voluptuously around her curves. Cordelia tilted her head to the side, a question mark written across her pale face. Was Myrtle's behaviour different? Aside from her exceptional silence - it appeared to be the woman's aura that gave away an alteration in things, that betrayed her usually so reserved self.

"Are you sure, Myrtle?"

"Naturally, dear." The older witch's voice was determined, and her expression seemed to speak the truth once she had turned to face Cordelia again. The blue of her eyes shone brightly, a gentle smile on her lips - the headmistress was convinced that there was something off, whatever exactly it was.

"If you say so."

It was that very moment that Cordelia had enough. Her curiosity and aggravation got the better of her as she stepped forward, lifting her right arm and resting her fingers firmly atop the redhead's shoulder. Almost immediately, the witch's vision became blurry and her hues shut off their ability to see in order to display Myrtle Snow's past in front of her inner eye.

Cordelia could see the former head of the Council enter Fiona's room. The scene skipped to Myrtle sitting on the edge of the Supreme's bed, the two witches talking about all the confusing and terrifying things that had occurred, and all of a sudden, Myrtle bent over. What Cordelia saw next shocked her even more than the fact that her mother was still alive. The Supreme and the Guardian of Truth shared a moment of utmost affection and immense passion - a kiss. Both participants looked less surprised or taken aback than Delia would have expected, especially whilst she herself was greatly taken aback.

Moments later, the blonde witch broke from her vision, retracted her hand from Myrtle and she stared at the older woman with utter surprise, shock, confusion, and somewhat dismay written clearly into her dark brown eyes.

"Since when has this been going on, Myrtle?"

The woman who had just been addressed stood there still, a hint of anger visible in that fold between her eyebrows. After all, Myrtle Snow had every right to be angered by Cordelia's unwanted action - but then again, the day of revelation had to come, sooner rather than later. A heavy sigh slipped through Myrtle's thin lips, and she lowered her eyes in an almost defeated fashion.

"A few weeks before Fiona's ... passing, I discovered her inebriated into oblivion on the chaise longue in the Ancestry room. We argued - you know what she's like - and then, well, she kissed me, and-"

"Is that why you wanted to burn at the stake?"

"Oh no, Delia dear, she's not that bad of a kisser."

Myrtle knew exactly what her successor to the position of the academy's headmistress was actually on about. However, as stubborn as the flame-haired woman was, she was unwilling to admit just that. To admit the truth about how intense and almost embarrassing her feelings for Fiona Goode really were - for a woman who had treated her like a piece of scum for the most of their lives.

The suggestively lifted eyebrow of Cordelia's told the older witch exactly what she was thinking, and how she was judging Myrtle's previous response.

"Fine, you've won. The real reason why I wished to die was, in fact, Fiona. I am aware that this is something utterly confusing to you, my dearest child, but her apparent death had her lifelong nemesis - me - in a state of utmost horror and pain that I felt like drowning in a never-ending vortex of sorrow."

There suddenly was a silence falling between the two women. Myrtle Snow felt her own cheeks flush and turn a soft pink tone.

Cordelia, at this point, couldn't quite comprehend the situation - she understood every word that the flame-haired witch had spoken, but her brain did not seem to grasp the meaning like it was supposed to. If that was because she was so shocked about what she had seen and what Myrtle had just explained to her, or whether it was because to her, this utterly unusual bond between her mother and Myrtle appeared to make no sense at all - she was unsure.

"Are you saying that you have feelings for Fiona?" The headmistress of the academy questioned Myrtle with an underlying suspicion, almost as if she was convinced that something about the situation was not quite right and could not be the truth - perhaps the vision she had seen was merely a trick? Impossible. And her suspicion seemed to be muzzled once the Guardian of Veracity in the Vernacular responded to her question.

"I do. Now if you'd excuse me, little bird, I have other businesses to-"

"Cordelia?"

Both witches, the one who had just been addressed by a new voice in the room as well as the redheaded fashionista instantaneously turned their heads in the direction of where the voice had come from.

"Zoe," the blonde woman began, putting on a smile that hopefully covered her confusion and unwillingness to be broken away from this crucial conversation with one Myrtle Snow. "What can I do for you?"

"There's a few things I'd like to discuss with you - and Queenie." The young girl appeared a little nervous, probably realising that she had intruded in a more or less serious and most importantly private talk between the two older witches. "About the Council." With those last three words, Zoe's eyes locked on the redhead - knowing that she might not be too keen on giving up so easily what had been hers for so many years. Then again, Myrtle Snow had lost her position as the head of the Witches' Council the first time she was convicted to burn to death.

Myrtle Snow, despite being expected to speak up once Zoe mentioned the Council, remained quiet, merely lifting an eyebrow at the girl. Yet, this simple gesture caused for Zoe to swallow, a hint of nervousness sneaking into her mind.

"It ... it can wait. I'll just come back later, if you wish, Cordelia."

"No," responded the headmistress dryly, almost sharply, before looking back to Myrtle, leaning in close in order to whisper to her.

"We're not done here. Just keep your public affection to a minimum for now, if you will?"

"I wouldn't know why that should be a necessity, Delia," protested the flame-haired woman aloud as she lifted her chin, folding her arms before her chest dramatically, "And if it were to cause terror for every soul involved, they'd get over-"

"Myrtle. Just keep your mouth shut about it."

With that, Cordelia turned away from her mentor, from her substitute mother and friend, her full attention now drawn to Zoe Benson, who had been watching their confusing and secretive disagreement with wide eyes. Moments later, Myrtle Snow was on her own in the kitchen again.

A sigh that she had kept repressed all the while speaking with Cordelia eventually slipped through Myrtle's lips as she turned back to the sink. Her blue eyes staring right into the sink, yet more into empty space, after all. Now it was her turn to be confused - why would her beloved Cordelia's reaction be this ... negative? Why would she not be happy that Myrtle was alive and happy? Suddenly, a rather specific thought came to the mind of the Guardian of Veracity in the Vernacular. What if Cordelia was very plainly not accepting of the idea of having two enemies that had despised one another and fought for more than forty years of their lives forming a bond this different, new, and unexpected? Another question remained unanswered, however - why?