She heard the words.
The king is dead.
She heard Vita say.
Words are slow and distant. Exhausted and falling. Mikoto listened as she silently stepped away, Vita moved directly across from her, near the front opening, and sat down opposite her. Crossing her legs, and leaned forward. She leaned to her right and put her arm across the top of one of the clay pots. Her eyes tracked the movement of the fish. They were casually swimming around the circular edge.
Mikoto barely opened her eyes, nothing more than slits. She sniffed a couple of times, smelling the fear and desperation. Her mouth opened slightly, and she exhaled through her mouth. Each movement is deliberate and precise. She listened to the hearts beating around her. Aya and Gallum are close to the firepit. Smelling the worry and tasting the residual heat. The white ash and faint smoke spiraled to the ceiling. Hearts beating faster together like one heart. Their smells linger stronger, giving a sense of concern and worry. The small one whimpered, seeking comfort from the rising anxiety. nuzzling closer between them. Nya sitting on a bench, slowly sharpening a few blades on the wet stone. Her heartbeat is steady, her smell intimidating and controlling. The blades moved across the whetstone in a steady stroke. Her little one leaning against her back, purring like a satiated kitten.
Heard him coming, gloating and arrogant. Others chased him, patting him on the back, egging him onward. Among them, something was off. It was scared, terrified. Muffled sounds of terror. She opened her eyes. He was standing in the doorway, uninvited and in a sadistic way, taunting her. An arrogant sense of entitlement swirled around him. He stepped to the side as two men dragged something into view and tossed it to the ground. It hit the ground hard and painfully. Wild hair hiding what? who she knew. Her smell filled her nose and mouth. An ache filled her chest. Hate welled from her belly and filled her throat.
Trembling in fear, tears streaming from her golden eyes. She raised her head slowly and saw her. Her Eyes opened wide, her face marked and scratched. Her tiny cheeks were painfully red and gagged. The tight leather bit at the corners of her mouth. Hands bound tight. Fear is followed by happiness. She lunged forward and jerked back by a tether tied around her tiny waist. She gasped in pain. Tears rolled.
The air turned heavy and hot.
The son of the king took a step inside, his smile growing, eyes thinning in hate. "Mine," he whispered with a slow nod of confidence. He stood behind the little one and dropped to his knees. Putting his hand on her hip. She cowered. Eyes wet and begging. Muffled chirps and strained unspoken emotion across her face. He snatched her neck, forced her face down, leaned over, and dragged his tongue along her small spine. Her face twisted. Bound hands stretch towards Mikoto.
The air turned frigid.
White mist rose from warm bodies, and a thin layer of crystal ice formed on the still water. Vita never moved. Eyes watching Mikoto.
"I will take her," he growled, reaching underneath his loin cloth and jerking his hand. "I am king now… I do as I please.." he grinned, eyes bulging. "I will take what I want… you or her…" his smile getting bigger. "Or both, I will decide. I am king now."
A warrior slipped inside. Hoping to get a better view. And didn't get it. A wet thud and blood sprayed from his neck." You are not invited here." Nya spoke, bringing her hand down, picking up another blade, and sharpening it. she showed no fear or care. He fell back, his hand tight on the wound, as life spilled through his fingertips. His back hit the wall, and he fell out of the doorway. The other warriors scrambled to help the dying warrior. The king stopped his hand as he looked at Nya.
She cocked her head, a single streak of black paint across her eyes, black as night, still sharpening her blade. The little one was sitting next to her, staring through him. Cold and unafraid. Nya smiled, "anyone else who comes in uninvited will not leave alive." She raised the blade and ran her finger along the edge. A sliver of blood trickled from the wound. She licked the blood away and placed the sharpened blade in a line of others, maybe twelve or more. She sighed, taking another to the stone, and slipped it across the surface.
Vita held her emotions in check. Waiting for Mikoto to make her move. She'd watched the blade fly, burying deep inside the warrior's throat. The spray of blood, painted the walls, plants, and across her face. She ran her tongue along her lips, watching the ripples on the water as the blood droplets disappeared beneath the surface. With a tilt of her head, fretting her brow, a faint image seems to appear on the water's glimmering surface and slowly fade away. She leaned closer, looking into the water. The edge of her mouth curled, listening to the near-silent footsteps of the hunter coming behind her.
"I am sorry, but he is our king…." Aya spoke, trying her best to show no emotions. A slight hitch in her throat. The edge of the blade touched her throat. Vita quickly grinned. "Oh, little one…" she whispered, "if you only knew. I bet you would still try."
She liked Aya. Knew that despite hating the son of the king. She served. Vita leaned back, rolled her head, and looked into Aya's eyes. "why don't you do something?"
Aya pulled on her lips, barely shaking her head. She watched what was happening between the son of the king and Mikoto. The son of the king is arrogant and bragging. How he handled the little one burning inside her. each micro-movement of her face told Vita. If the moment came… she would kill the son of the king.
"I can't," she said.
"Why?"
"She is unclaimed."
"Unclaimed?"
Aya nodded. "she has no name. No mother or father. She has not been introduced to the village. She is a burden. No one to take care of, to support her."
Vita nodded, "I see." She grinned. "So, naming rituals? Gives the little one power of protection. The mother gives birth, and the little one leaves and comes back. And the mother gives the little one a name to say yes, she is mine."
Aya nodded. "The father is not important."
"True," Vita grinned, "the best eight and a half minutes of his life, and he leaves… how modern." she laughed." and Mikoto Misaka is the deadbeat dad?" She chuckled. "Oh, you will not hear the end of that one.." arching her brows. "I will tell the wolves everything." She knew Mikoto could hear her. Her growling grew louder.
Vita wondered. Who was the mother then? If Mikoto was the father. Then who was the mother? Where was the mother? She eyed the little one, curling tight into a ball. Her tiny body trembling, arms begging. Mikoto was still as death, looking. She looked over at the thin layer of ice over the water pots. The one with the fish was untouched. No longer swim around the edges. They had stopped and lingered near the surface as if they couldn't breathe. But they were not stressed. They lingered as if watching the son of the king and, particularly, Mikoto.
"Large golden eyes, wild mane of hair," Vita thought, "scales and skin.." she muttered under her breath. She thought of the dragons in their human form when they came to this world. A chill rolled over her, letting her breath out slowly, turning to white mist and fading. "Scales? Fish and dragons, water?"
The air turning colder.
She yelled a warning, running through the crowd as the villagers separated, opening a pathway. Rae was coming. Emerald's eyes were wide and aggressive. She had on her hunter's outfit. Heavy leather from the neck to the top of her knees. Sandaled feet barely hitting the ground. She held a large, heavy-looking, serrated club, screaming inaudible the son of the king's name. Warriors rushed towards her. She lowered her body and swung downward. Striking one, blood exploding from his chest to his belly. She twisted and turned before another warrior could react. With a heavy thud and his head disappeared like a crushed melon. Blood explodes in the air and scatters the villagers.
Another warrior, curved iron axe held high, screamed a war cry. Froze, shuddered, and collapsed in a rain of blood. The curved axe dropped. Rea's serrated club was buried between his legs. She yanked it back and rushed forward.
The warriors gathered themselves, formed a wall of blades, and stood their ground. Each taking turns, they surrounded her. She held her serrated club in her left and reached over her should, pulling out a long dueled-edged sword made from the shell of a bug. Black, glistening, and deadly.
A warrior yelled, bringing his wooden blade high and bringing it in a downward swing. She parried, swinging the black sword, spitting the wood at the handle and his head from his neck. The body dropped, the head tumbling along the ground in a fountain of blood.
Gullam took a breath as Aya left her side. She held on to her hand until the last moment before hesitantly letting go. Besides being a hunter, she had another role: protector of the royal family. It came with the responsibility of the children of the king. It was the only way the queen would allow Rae to become a hunter. She picked up her little one, patting her on the back. And walked her over to Nya. She looked at her as she sat her down. Nya nodded with a smile. The look in her eyes was the same as if going on a hunt. Brutal, cold, and decisive. No emotions, no cares. They did not punish one for doing their roles.
Gullam's role was to protect her family. The ones she loved. And she loved Aya. She walked over to the wall and pulled down a short, beautiful, unstrung reflex bow. she placed one curved end on the ground, easily bending until she pulled the sinew tight and let it slowly expand. Its curved design allowed it to have the same deadly punch as larger bows of the same design. Compact, deadly, and great for close fighting. She bent down and grabbed a handful of arrows. The tips, black and sharp, made of bug shells. She notched one and stepped to the side of the firepit, pointing towards the front of the longhouse. She looked past the son of the king and at the backs of the warriors surrounding Rae. "I hope he doesn't get in my way," she whispered. Nya grinned with a nod. "We can only wish."
Kea snarled upper lip raised, nostrils wide, teeth bared in an unnaturally wide gap. Horrific, feral even. in waves of heat pulsating, hate and anger radiated from her entire body. Her ears, straight and pointed, flicker back. Feline eyes were wide and shimmering in the shade of colors. She was no taller than Rae, yet both were reacting in tandem. Violent and aggressive. She stalked forward, leg brushing Mikoto's shoulder. In her hand, hidden by her side, was a long steel blade. One of the sheaths on Mikoto's armor was empty. She must have taken it when he approached. Another slow stalking step, her muscles taut and coiled.
The joy he felt seeing the life of his father leaving his body. hearing his mother scream and her collapse on his chest. He caught the disdain in Rae's eyes. She did her best to hide her mournful cry. Tears slipped through her Inside. "she must be breaking…" he laughed to himself. "Time to take what I want." He quickly rose from his single knee position, showing his respect no more. Why? he was dead. Nothing but an empty shell. The surrounding others gawked at the disrespect as he turned in a huff and walked away. A few others followed. Once outside, they laughed and slapped his back. Making his way through the gathering crowds.
The king is dead! one of them yelled with his fist, punching the sky. "Long live the king!" A crowd of fists struck at the sky. "Now!" he said, "to take what I want!" he grinned. He jerked his head towards a small hut. The warriors standing outside the door nodded, turned around, and opened it. He yelled inside. A loud sound of struggling, and two warriors walked out, dragging a tiny figure. A wild mane of hair, golden eyes tearful and fearful. Her hands bound. Mouth gagged. She fought and struggled, pulling away. A warrior, tired of the commotion, smacked her head, and she dropped.
"That'll keep her quiet." He laughed. The villagers watched, horrified at the sight. But no one helped. He was the king now… and she was unclaimed.
He turned into the rows of longhouses. The news of the death of the king had reached them. Many of the villagers stood in front of their long houses, weapons in hand, watching as the new king and his warriors paraded by. Their eyes were hard, and they glared in protective packs, standing in front of their little ones. He ignored them, his destination in front of him. He licked his lips, anticipating his first action as king. Each breath, each beating of his heart, filled him up. He felt a surge of want and the release that would follow. His smile got larger, thinking of the unclaimed little one. It wasn't his fault. This was the way of things. He didn't care if she wasn't a member of the tribe. He didn't care if she didn't know. Too bad, he thought. I will reap the benefits. She ignored and disrespected me. He would make her beg for his mercy. His eyes glazed over, bringing his hand to his crotch and rubbing himself. What will he make her do? He chuckled.
His destination was in front of him. Its thick, heavy wooden doors opened wide with ornate hand-carved Ranmas hung above the front door and around the stone base. The front area was clean and sparse with vegetation. Wooded tubs filled with water, herbs, and other plants lined the frame of the longhouse. one corner of his lip curled as he thinned his eyes, stepping into the doorway. And there she was. Sitting down, her long messy hair covering much of her naked body. He narrowed his eyes thinner, seeing her. she was a mess. Her long hair disheveled, dirty, grime-filled, and matted like a wild animal surviving a storm. She moved, lifting her head, wet, heavy strands parted. He saw glimpses of her perfect porcelain skin and remembered the look of defiance in her eyes as she defied him. The stench of foulness did little more than annoy him. He remembered how she smelled of wildflowers. And he spoke. With a nod, the warriors dragged her around and tossed her in front of him and Mikoto. The little one, trembling in fear. "MINE," he said with every ounce of arrogance. He heard himself speaking, threatening. He didn't care. Now he was king. And he gets her or both. He sneered. He felt the cold ground underneath his knees. The hot, trembling flesh of the little one underneath his hand as he pushed her down. And the growing need in his palm as he reached into his crotch. "If you don't…" he said, voice hitched, feeling his rising desire building. "I will take her now. And every time I take her, I will think of you." He leaned closer, reached out, grabbed a handful of the little ones' wild mane of hair, and yanked. She gasped, whined, and muffled chirps.
"My queen?" Vita spoke. The son of the king looked over, smiling at the acknowledgment. "She is thinking of me, king." He said, "she will be your queen if you like…" looking over to Vita. She leaned forward, her throat against the sharp blade. "not you," Vita spoke, not looking at him. "She is my queen," she said. The son of the king scowled, fretting his brow. "She is no queen." he said. "you are such a fool." Vita said. "all you have to do is say it. And I will carry it out. all you have to desire it, and I will carry it out."
The temperature dropped.
"All you have to do is give her a name. Any name," she whispered.
Mikoto had listened to him and watched him as he walked toward them. Him and the others. Confident, arrogant, and ugly. His father, their king, had just died. No more than a few heartbeats ago. The body is still warm. He'd bragged to the other males following his lead. Like drunken college, frat boys looking for more free beer and girls too drunk to say no. the way he spoke, and the way they laughed dug deep inside her. Like an itch, she couldn't scratch. He had said he would once the king had died. The son of the king was on his way to take her. With a silent breath, she smelled the tension in the air. A warrior stepped inside the threshold. She heard the blade whizz, the thud, and the sound and smell of blood spraying, seeping through his fingers.
"He's dead," little misaka coldly answered. "nice throw, by the way." Mikoto nodded.
"I don't think Vita is going to hurt Aya." She shrugged. "Probably not."
"Probably! Hell, I know, there isn't anyone in here she doesn't like," she laughed.
With a nod of his head and those other warriors stepped in a tossed her to the ground like trash.
"Oh, fuck.." little misaka slowly spoke. "This is not goooood….. grrr" Little misaka growled. A match to a fuse, more like gasoline. "Time to kill. Take him now!" She roared. Her tiny body shook with rage, and the black vein spidered up her torso. "Shit!" Eyes wide, raising her chin up, "no!…. no!…".she fought. The rage rolled through her tiny body.
Mikoto felt warm, becoming hotter. She leaned towards the little one, reaching her hand and touching her cheek. The son of the king yanked her head back. Mikoto's nail brushed along the leather gag, and it broke. She jerked her head and struggled against his hold. Chirping louder and louder. Her golden eyes begged her.
"Do you want to be mine?" Mikoto whispered in a tired voice. The little one chirped louder. White mist turning thicker like a morning fog hovered around them, the room colder and Mikoto's body hotter. Little misaka grimaced, veins bulging through her alabaster skin. Her eyes blacken, and her fangs grow larger,"Noooot, tired enough!" Her voice echoed.
She heard Rae screaming his name and smelled the hate in her voice. On the way, she swung her serrated club. She listened to the sickening thuds, the spray of blood. Bodies falling to the ground. The grunts of life leave their bodies. Heard the pulling of the bowstring and the twang and hiss of the arrow. And its impact on the back of a warrior. His gasp, his pain, and his death. Blood and chaos were beginning to fill the air.
"Not a good thing if you're about to go rogue!" Little misaka screamed.
"All you have to do is give her a name. Any name."
The little one bucked wildly, fighting the teether, keeping her away. Mikoto slipped her hand along her cheek line and into her wild mane. She curled her fingers tight, grasping a handful of hair.
The little ones' cheeks bloom bright red, eyes screaming wide, chirping followed by verbal grunts. "A name?" Mikoto whispered, her eyes spiral colors of blues and red flakes peeked underneath, leaving long streaks fading into black. Going rogue?
"Figure it out!" little misaka yelled, fighting the change. The blackness returning and taking over.
"ma…" her mouth twisting to make the sounds. "ma…."
Mikoto smiled, bringing her closer, pulling her to her. She felt her tiny breath across her cheek. The excited nuzzle of a young to parent. The son of the king yanked harder. The determination to fight off what he was losing. He sneered, muscle taut, the leather teether straining and stretched.
Mikoto ran her nose through her wild mane, taking in her scent. Dense jungle, grasses, and waters. The springs. She had been spending a lot of time in the springs. She remembered the first time. They had bathed together and washed her hair. The smell of her shampoo buried deep in her mane.
"Tell me your name?" Mikoto whispered. Her fingernails slipped under the teether. And it snapped.
"All you have to do is give her a name. Any name." An unfamiliar but familiar voice answered.
Mikoto sighed," I see…" closing her eyes.
"Ma…" the little one's mouth twisted, mimicking, "ka.."
"Maka," she said.
A loud wind pulsed followed by an explosion of wood, flesh, and blood. Mikoto stood near the collapsing hole in the front of the longhouse. Bodies were strewn about like leaves in a storm. Her loud growl shook the ground. Mikoto Misaka, glowing in bluish-white sparks, streaks scattering along the ground, screamed in a voice that shook the trees.
"I will protect it. I will defend it all. Everything, everyone, will be by my blood and venom, by my will. I will rule. I will protect. Everything is mine. I will claim it all. I claim it all!"
Cracks shot through the dirt, shaking trees and splintering the branches. The breeze tossed and swirled, dust and debris rising.
All of it, it is mine. Everything, by my blood and venom. By my will, it will be! I will rule. I will protect everything. What I see is mine!" her voice burst forth and flood over them.
Mikoto Misaka, the voice faded as she thought of what she had down, eyes watering glaring up at the sky, the roar of the wind fading. Tears fell from her eyes. Her naked body tensed, the words pouring out like a dam breaking. "What am I doing? I can't… I just! Anastasia! Help me!" she cried.
"It ok.." little misaka said, each breath heavy and tired. "Hey. Just think of it as claiming you're right as queen, going to sleep, and having Vita run things." She chuckled, slumping to the black ground. "Then again, that might be a problem?" she joked.
Mikoto exhaled a single breath, the claim rolling over everyone in an invisible gentle wave. over the ground, moving over the trees, and slipping over the lip of the garden spreading out to the horizon. She gasped for breath, hands falling onto her knees, "not again," anxiety building, heart and head pounding like heavy drums., watching the tears drop on her hands, without waiting or saying anything. She spun and ran.