I'm still working onBattle for Bloodbut a story I read caught my attention and kind of sat in my head for a while so I decided to go with it and explore a different relationship dynamic. With permission from Goldeniangel (one of the best on this site), I've taken her storyWitchand I'm putting my own spin on it. I'm moving into more unfamiliar territory with the non-consent themes here but the dynamic intrigues me and I liked the struggle between seeking revenge or justice that the original story explored. Suggestions and constructive criticism is welcome.
As always, enjoy and comment—no story was ever better without receiving criticism.
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Anna eyed the group of men she had been tracking for days. They had moved faster than she thought they would after their bountiful pillaging added so much weight. They hadn't taken hostages though, something she knew all too well, so that hadn't slowed them down. Still the camp was expansive. There were at least 50 of them judging by the number of fires going. Her father had taught her that trick, though for them it was never more than a game to play with passing groups of merchants or gypsies.
She was perched in a tree near the periphery of their camp letting their sounds and smells cover her imperfect stalking skills. There was a powerful clarity of purpose in her movements. At the edges of this resolve was a terrifying abyss of pain and grief. She could feel it there, lurking in the corners of her consciousness, waiting for her focus to waver for a moment so it could swallow her up again.
She shifted her bow. She had her father's daggers strapped insecurely inside her belt as best she could. She knew her only hope to get anywhere was to pick off a few, something she reasoned she might be able to do. She wasn't the best shot but it was better than her knife skills. After someone raised the alarm, the aim was to throw herself into them and wreak as much havoc as she could before someone ran her through. If she could kill one it would be better than nothing.
Part of her warred with this obvious suicide, but it was overlaid too heavily with her determination to stamp out the pain she carried with her, and this was the only way.
There, her chance was coming her way. There were two of them, drunk and singing, stumbling along. She might get lucky and be able to pick off the two of them without having to leave her perch. She ran her fingers over her bow, feeling the soft familiar grain. She felt a pang in her heart like a stab wound as she remembered her grandfather stringing it for her the first time.
Anna shook off the memory. Now was the time to focus, to seek what little revenge she could. They had left her entire village a pile of desecrated ashes. They could not just walk away unscathed.
She notched an arrow and drew back the bow, feeling a bit uneasy as her legs clenched around the large branch supporting her. She lined up her shot, aiming for the man who had fallen and was laughing maniacally at his companion's drunken jig. She saw with perfect clarity the sick smile on his face, his yellowing teeth and drunken slobbering. She aimed her bow for his heart and drew in her breath.
Suddenly, Anna felt strong arms wrap around her from behind, pulling her against a very hard chest, a man's voice whispered in her ear "Not so fast, pet." Before she had time to understand what had happened or fight back, she felt her body fall backwards, her bow clutched uselessly in her hand. The black air swallowed her up, squeezing her body even as she fell into its infinite grip.
The shock of falling and the fear that gripped her brought her back. She tried to wrench the arms around her body away from her, kicking out with her legs. Whatever had her barely registered her struggles. Then the world flew back up at them. Anna found herself back in her family's home, kneeling in the ashes on the floor as she tried to catch her breath. It felt like all the air had been forced from her lungs. She gasped and looked up, her eyes flying around what had once been a familiar room.
What had just happened? One moment she was in a tree, days from here and the next she was kneeling in her kitchen? Who was that man? Her brain swirled with dizziness and confusion as she knelt on the floor, her legs untrustworthy beneath her.
"It can be a bit startling at first, I know," the man's voice came from behind her. Anna whipped her head around, her body shifting more slowly, still trembling from the strange fall from the tree.
She took in the creature in front of her, for he was no man. His face was too perfect, his voice had a low undertone that made it sound strangely cavernous, and he seemed to almost glow in the dark room. This was a god. Which one, she couldn't be sure, but she was smart enough to know when the divine was before her. She took in his dark waving hair, straight nose and dangerously angled jaw line. He may have been handsome if not for the inhuman quality of his face.
She should have lowered her eyes, bowed, or shown some other signs of deference but something akin to dread had begun to rise in her mind. The focus she had managed to cling to with her intentions for revenge was slipping, leaving the sea of grief free to begin to wash over her. She had never intended to return to this rubble that had once been her home and this god had just forced her back.
"Why did you do that?" she demanded. Her voice came out hoarse and harsher than she had intended. The panic edged into her words even as she tried to keep herself under control.
The god before her surveyed her with piercing blue eyes. Perhaps he was also surprised at her lack of decorum. "I did not wish for you to die today," he said simply. His voice ran in waves through her body.
"Why is that up to you? I am not one of your followers. I have not pledged myself. I am not entailed to any god or any practice. You cannot just interfere with my life when it pleases you." It came out as a rush. She felt a rising tide of emotions and tried to quell them. She needed to get out of here, back on the trail, start again.
The god gave her a half smile and cocked his head, looking much more human for a moment. "That is true," he began. Anna tried to suppress the desire to scream at him to talk faster. "But sometimes it is not up to you."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Anna screamed at him, feeling her lungs burning again with unshed tears.
The god looked her over once more, seemingly amused by her temper.
"I own your death."
Silence filled the burnt out room. Something wasn't right. The words all made sense individually, but together their meaning was lost. Anna looked up at his angled face, trying to read something in the implacable expression, some clue as to what was going on here. Panic and anger drained away and fear pressed in.
Speak wisely
, a small voice muttered.
"I don't..." she trailed off. He didn't move. She cleared her throat and lowered her eyes, folding her hands in her lap. "I don't understand what that means."
"Just what it sounds like."
Her eyes flew back to his face. "Are you mocking me?" She practically shouted.
Shouted at a god. Again. Something had definitely broken inside her head. She reigned in herself in. She was just some inconsequential peasant girl and she was talking to a god. Despite all evidence to the contrary, she could still hold on to some semblance of reality. She lowered her eyes again and struggled to breath evenly. "Please, sir, I don't understand. I'm afraid I cannot bear your taunting me. I beg you to explain." Her voice shook. She had been so close to ending her grief, emptying her body of the tormented emotions that wracked her soul with unyielding pain. She had accepted the relief of death and now here she was, back in the house that had served as her family's tomb.
"I mean," he began, his tone betraying no emotion, "that long ago one of your ancestors made a deal with me. She traded me nearly everything she had to offer in exchange for great power. Despite the fact that she was quite clever she missed a rather ambiguous part of the deal, which gave me influence over all parts of her body, including the life growing within her. Since that day I have owned a part of each female descendant from this woman, though with each generation my influence is less. As you are the last of the line the only thing still owed to me is control of your death. As it does not please me to allow you to throw yourself into a suicide, I have interfered to claim what is mine. I shall choose when you die, not you, nor anyone else. Have I explained myself properly?"
Anna kept her eyes down. Her brain struggled to work through this new information. She beat back the panic that rose in her chest. It had been the last thing she had, the last thing she had to offer her murdered family. She would give her life for some small bit of revenge, whatever she could manage. Instead she was back here, back where she had been helpless to save them the first time they needed her. What else did she have? She could not carry on living without seeking to avenge her family. Nothing had taken away the bottomless pit that had opened inside her when they had perished until she had left to track down their murderers. How could she simply give up the fight? She couldn't. And it would mean her life, which he wouldn't allow her to give. Helpless once again. Her kneeling body shook as hopelessness set in.
"I'll take my leave if that is all." His voice rang through her thoughts. That undertone rumbled through her again. She dared to look up again, her panic roaring through her once more. He couldn't leave yet!
"No!" she shouted. "You can't leave me like this!" The desperation in her voice stung her ears. The pain and fear clawed at her throat, seeking to suffocate her words. He just looked at her, as if her turmoil was no more interesting than a spider climbing a wall. How could she convince him when she couldn't even form a coherent thought? "Why won't you let me die?"
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Because it doesn't please me to allow it now."
"But I have to do...something. I cannot simply continue on."
"And why not? You have your life to offer your family as vengeance against those who would blot them out. Continue to live in defiance of what they did." His tone had not changed. She couldn't tell if he was mocking her or genuinely trying to convince her to go on living.
"I cannot!" Anna shouted back. "I am already dead inside. I have no heartbeats left to count except to see those who did this punished. I have no thoughts but to the savagery I have witnessed against those I loved. I have no life left in me. Do not force me to keep breathing simply for your amusement. I cannot breath without pain and to deny me the only way to stop this torment would leave me in a state much worse than death."
Still the figure before her did not move. He let the silence ring out again. Anna prayed he would agree. What could a god possibly care about the life of some broken peasant?
"No." The word thundered through the room.
Anna leapt to her feet; tears she thought had long stopped flowing streaked through the soot on her cheeks. "You cannot do this! You cannot leave me with nothing. You cannot keep me alive when my soul is putrefying inside my body."
"I assure you, your soul is still very much intact." Anna still couldn't tell if he was teasing her again or not. She halted suddenly. Through all the grief and anger some reason managed to burrow through to her, something better than begging, something that hadn't occurred to her before this moment.
