Cybele, the Great Mother.
Belle had read about her. A little. Nothing much. A goddess of this world—reality—whatever she should call it. Worshipped by the Romans who had likely borrowed her from . . . was it Asia Minor? It meant she wasn't Greek and there weren't lots of myths written down about her, the way there were about their other gods.
Attis-Anari had been surprised Belle knew Latin. He thought of it as a minor language spoken by a minor people, a small tribe from somewhere north and west of the lands where the Great Mother had held power. He'd never heard of Rome.
Belle wanted to believe she was wrong. She'd laid out what she'd learned from Attis-Anari, giving TJ everything she was certain of. Then, she'd outlined some of her suspicions. TJ didn't see it. Same data, different conclusions. She thought Ancients, and maybe that was right. Maybe Belle was seeing shadows in a room full of light.
She had to wonder when she first saw the old woman. When the Ursini ushered them into the room where Cybele waited, her faith in her own conclusions waivered for just a moment.
Cybele was ancient (in the more regular sense of the word). If Belle had met her on Earth, she would have believed anyone telling her the woman was over a hundred years old—over two hundred. There were machines and monitors hooked up to her and her wheeled chair. Very little of it resembled the few bits of medical machinery Belle was familiar with, but she recognized the slow, steady beeping that measured each beat of her heart. It was hard to connect this woman with the stories Belle knew.
"Please," the old woman said, her voice a thin whisper. "Sit down." She gestured to chairs. Human-sized chairs. They looked antique. Ones Cybele had used in younger, healthier days?
Belle translated for TJ. The two women sat. Ursini brought in small bowls with tea—real tea, or something much closer to tea than the stewed leaves Destiny sometimes had—and of plate of dumpling-like pastries. They were purplish-black with a bland flavor. Their interior had a greenish paste that tasted a bit like cashews.
"The food is safe for humans," the woman—goddess?—told them. "Please, eat up." She studied her two guests. "You are human, aren't you?" she asked. "Not . . . something else?"
Who's afraid of who? Belle wondered. "Human," she said. "But, you're. . . ." she mimicked the woman's pause, ". . . . something else. Aren't you? Attis-Anari said you've lived her for centuries. Millennia."
The old woman nodded then leaned back as if that small gesture had exhausted her. "I appeared about your age when I came here. The Ursini could not even work bronze when I met them." She gave a weary sigh. "They made tools of copper, flint, obsidian. I taught them everything I could, but ages passed before they had anything you might call technology." She glanced at some of the wires and tubes hooked up to her. "It was even longer before they had anything that could help keep me alive."
"A Goa'uld sarcophagus," Belle said. Her hand shook slightly on the bowl of tea. She put it down and looked Cybele in the eye. "Were they ever able to make one?"
"You know of those?" Cybele said. She was a little surprised, nothing more. "No, they never built one. This body is dying, and there is nothing more they can do for it." She put down her own tea and sighed again, studying Belle and TJ. "My child, Attis-Anari, told me a bit about you. The Goa'uld do not rule your people, do they? You rule yourselves and have developed your own technologies."
"And we prefer it that way."
"Egeria," Cybele said. "Do you know that name?"
Egeria. Belle hadn't expected to hear her mentioned. "A Goa'uld queen. She believed in . . . symbiosis. That it was possible for her people to have willing hosts, to . . . share with the humans they possessed."
"Indeed. Egeria was a radical. She would have been executed if she were not a queen. But, a queen's life is one of the few things my kind hold sacred. A matter of biology. Those of us who can reproduce are too few. The need to keep them alive is written into our very being."
"You're a queen," Belle said.
The old woman smiled wistfully. "You sound like a judge passing sentence. Yes, I'm a queen. But, my children in this world die. They swim in the waters where they were spawned, blind, deaf, barely alive. If they take hosts—"
"They die," Belle said. "Attis-Anari told me. That must make life difficult for you."
"Egeria was my friend," Cybele said. "Her thoughts were radical, but I had some sympathy. I allowed my host times of freedom. I let her keep those she loved. I even protected them."
"Did you?" Belle thought of her father, willing to erase her whole mind, her memories and personality, to 'protect' her from Rum. "In legend, Attis was the name of Cybele's consort."
"Yes, my host's betrothed. I let her spend time with him. I even grew fond of him myself. Enough to name some of my children after him. It was hardly rebellion against the System Lords, what I did. But, it was enough when Egeria fell. I fled. I was captured. The System Lord who cornered me had been carrying out experiments with the gates. He threw me through one of them, and I found myself here.
"I'm not like the other lords," Cybele said. She sounded like she believed it. "Not anymore. To survive, I had to teach the Ursini, to help them lift themselves out of darkness. They are my children as much as Attis and his siblings. When this host dies, I will die with her. My Goa'uld children will follow soon after. But, I hoped to preserve the Ursini. The enemy who is coming for us will destroy this world, but I have done everything I can to help a few escape. You understand? I'm not like the System Lords. I care for my people."
Belle remembered Regina telling her how reasonable she was being, that she was helping Belle when she imprisoned her. She remembered Hook pretending to be her friend when he broke into her cell, all so he could get her to betray Rum. "Is there a reason you want me to believe that?"
"Egeria was my friend, for all her madness. She would want me to explain this to you."
Belle balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "Attis-Anari thinks I'm a goddess, Bellona, the Roman goddess of war."
"Does he? I am old. The difference between my host's mind and mine has faded over the years. The memories I hand onto my children blur. My host believed in such things. I suppose he does, too. Egeria would have wanted you to understand this, to give me your permission for what I'm about to do."
"You don't have it."
Cybele smiled wanly. "I didn't expect it. Egeria was always a dreamer. But, I wish you to understand, for her sake. You are a treasured slave, not a beast of burden. I will ride you as gently as I may." Her hand slipped over a button on her chair. A horde of Ursini flooded into the room.
TJ jumped up, shocked but ready to fight. The Ursini leveled their weapons at her, metal tubes that ended in sharp, needle points. Belle didn't know what they did—she was sure they Ursini wanted them both alive, two potential hosts instead of just one—but they might be willing to kill to protect their Great Mother.
They didn't point them at Belle. She was the chosen sacrifice in this little drama. They weren't giving her a choice between living and dying. Instead, they just piled on her, forcing her to her knees. She struggled, trying to break free. She remembered again when Regina captured her, forcing her into a small cage. She remembered being held down against the small cot in her cell as the guards clamped manacles around her wrists. Two Ursini reached out for her head, making her bow.
Belle knew about this. The Goa'uld didn't like to face their victims when they took them, didn't like to see the mix of horror and hate on the faces that were about to be their own.
Chitinous hands pulled her long hair away from her neck. She could hear TJ shouting at the Ursini to leave her alone. Then, Belle felt cold fingers caress the back of her neck. "Try not to be afraid," Cybele whispered.
The pain was sharp and quick, like the bite of a wild beast. Belle felt Cybele inside her, felt her curling into her thoughts, her mind, touching her memories. Rumplestiltskin, Belle thought. It was a hope, a prayer, a whispered farewell. She felt Cybele reach out for the image in her mind. Curious. In her own, cruel way, compassionate.
Rumplestiltskin. Memories, knowledge, understanding of what that name meant flooded through the intruder in Belle's mind. She felt her mouth open. Cybele began to scream.