Work Text:
when the moment is perfect
I will fire and forget until we both lay broken
and you know I'll be yours
I just want to be worth it
I.
To belong is to feel at home, no matter the circumstances.
To belong is to feel essential, to be part of something; to belong is to have people looking out for you and caring for you. To belong is to be wanted, to be loved, to be always waited for.
To belong is a bizarre concept, when you're raised to be the higher justice and the Retribution incarnate humans so thoroughly hate. Justice is usually heavy on both the mind and the body, and that's why it is a necessary requirement for every agent of it to be strong, clever and numb enough not to feel any backlash.
This, Nemesis knows by heart. They taught her when she was too young to even form a thought on her own, and now there she stands — tall, proud and already terribly strong. The divine hand, daughter of the Night herself, always ready to unsheathe her sword to punish the wicked.
(Isn't that a wicked act either? the small witch asks, and Nemesis is left dumbfounded.)
She doesn't think too much about it.
The thing is, that old bastard took her mom and she was just left there. The Crossroads are Headmistress Hecate's domain, her home and her headquarters, the place where she oh so gently decided to welcome her and to park her in the fucking corner of the room, away from the cauldron and from everything that's remotely important.
The Crossroads isn't a lively spot. There are people coming and going sometimes — Artemis, Selene, some of her own siblings — but it's a damn dead place, a pocket of shadows hidden before Tartarus itself, and it's so dead that the only thing keeping it alive is the memory of what they all lost.
Hecate tells them about Nyx, about the House of Hades, about the war Chronos has moved against Mount Olympus and about all the amazing gods they have lost to Time. Hecate tells them about the Titan's wicked plan and his cold heart; she tells them about how they were meant to fight back and Melinoë seems too small to be thinking about war and weapons, Nemesis thinks, drinking the sight of a young goddess clenching her fists around both her bigger hand and her own orange dress.
Nemesis halts the thought.
The old bastard took her mom and now she doesn't belong anywhere. Hecate doesn't like her, she favors the little witch and she made it clear when they were very young. Nemesis resents her, the child with mismatched eyes and laurels in her soft hair, and it's a wicked act.
A cloud lifts. She doesn't feel as numb as she should be, as the wielder of retribution and divine justice.
A cloud lifts, something breaks. Nemesis starts harboring negative feelings towards the little witch that's holding her hand.
It's not fair, and it's a wicked act.
II.
The little witch grows and she starts orbiting around her.
She never starts, actually. Melinoë has always been a quiet presence in her youth - the child of Hades and Persephone, Princess of the Underworld, and most certainly someone Nyx would have cherished dearly. Her mother raised the little witch's brother, and Nemesis is pretty sure that she would have raised Melinoë as one of her beloved children as well.
She sighed, contemplating the thought. There could be no version of reality in which Melinoë wasn't there.
Maybe we were destined to share our youth, Nemesis thinks, polishing her sword. Maybe we were destined to cross our paths - and it didn't have to be bloody and messy and full of hatred; it could have been peaceful, an everyday life dotted with friendly spars, banquets and amazing stories read by her mother while they were all bundled up under the covers.
And maybe they could both be daughters, both equals, both loved without preferences. It's fair and it's just; and it isn't real.
The little witch isn't so little anymore, and now she bares her teeth. Melinoë is a weapon, she's Headmistress Hecate's pupil and the only hope they have left to beat Chronos to death — what about me, what about us, what about everyone who's involved in this farce of a place and why is it her that you have chosen — and Nemesis feels the urge to run as soon as the princess gets out of her tent, eyes ablaze and tongues of fire flickering under her feet.
The worst thing about Melinoë is her determination. Her will to obey, to fight, to go; never asking for a break nor indulgence. You're a weapon, and she nods; you need to stop him, and she nods again, and Nemesis feels a little more insane each time. They're talking about stopping Time. Time itself, father of all gods and ruthless tyrant, reborn from the ashes and back on the throne of Hell itself.
And the little witch should face that. Alone. Just Melinoë, her staff, Hecate's words echoing in her gullible mind and nothing more.
"Would you like to spar with me, Nem?"
Nemesis towers over this absolute menace of a goddess with bright eyes and an easy, careful smile, and she wonders how Melinoë still approaches her with this insane amount of whimsical joy.
"Would you like to get your scrawny ass kicked?"
The witch bounces on her feet, energy crackling all over the ground. "Yeah. If you're fast enough to catch me, I mean."
Melinoë goes, not really waiting for an answer. Nemesis follows.
The woods of Erebus are dark and mystical, imbued with the familiar magic of the Silver Sisters. Hecate says that she's not ready yet, so she shaped the training grounds after the first rooms of Erebus.
Melinoë is wielding two short blades and she just can't stay still. She hums, she jumps, she sprints a bit — but mostly, she talks. She's telling Nemesis about her latest meeting with Selene, how she felt honored to be in the Moon's presence, Nem! The Moon herself! and how magic felt a bit too strong in her hands, so she came to her for a friendly spar.
"You can't always rely on magic."
"Why not? I'm a witch."
"Because Selene blessed you this time." Nemesis unsheathes her sword. "You may never know if she will do it again, or when."
Melinoë looks incredibly hurt. "Why not?"
"Listen," Nemesis pinches the bridge of her own nose, trying to find the words she needs amidst the sea of rage mounting inside of her. "I need you to use your brain. We're in the Crossroads, and you managed to meet Selene. Will you be able to reach out to her tomorrow?"
"Maybe?"
"Yeah. Maybe. That's the whole point, dumbass."
The Princess frowns, quickly spinning the two blades with her fingers. She's thinking about Nemesis' words - because she has a goal, or she cares, or I don't give a fuck — and they must have sunk deep into her, because all of a sudden she's charging at her rival at full speed.
"Then let's make the most of this, hm?"
A hit, a fast one that's pointed right towards her chest plate. Nemesis barely parries it with her big, scary sword, and Melinoë is already up and running all over the place, leaving a faint trace of cinder over the fake grass.
"Deal," Nemesis takes a deep breath. "if you can take it."
/
"You said Selene won't reach out to me whenever I need her, right?"
"Mel," Nemesis huffs, barely looking up at her. "it's late. I'm tired."
"I can't rest," the little goddess says, taking her rightful spot at Nemesis' side. "I'm still thinking about what you said. Selene can't always reach out to me, and I need to get stronger."
"I think I finally hammered some sense into that stupid skull of yours."
"Yeah, yeah. You're right." Melinoë slumps forward, curling over herself. "Sparring with you is always useful. Your insight are accurate and I know that you're right when you tell me that I rely too much on my magic. What if my mana is not enough for the whole descent? What if no one comes to aid me? What if no one fucking recognizes m-"
"Your thoughts are running a bit too fast for my liking. I said it's late, Mel."
She needs to coat these words in venom, for her own sanity. And what if they don't recognize you? Do you truly believe those blowhards with no common sense and their heads stuck up their own asses are your family?
Melinoë stops talking. She stiffens, straightening her back, and her mismatched eyes are now focused on the ground.
"I'm sorry. I should go now —"
Nemesis runs on pure instinct. She reaches for the princess' wrist and tugs. "I never said that."
"But —"
"I said it's late and that you're talking too fast."
"So?"
"So be quiet, or slow down, or you can just lay here until your breathing eases. Choose your option wisely."
Melinoë laughs, breathless and stupidly obedient, and Nemesis hates that she saw right through the fake bite she added to her speech. "Alright. Alright, I'll do that. I'll be quiet and I'll just sit here until —"
"You're not being quiet."
Melinoë just nods, then she takes a shaky breath and lies down. She's doing what she's told again and is not fucking complaining — she clenches her fists and slowly releases them, the energy still flowing through her veins like lava, and she does that again and again and again until Nemesis is sure that her fingers are tingling; and not once does she close her eyes. Her gaze is far away, hidden among the stars the Princess of the Underworld has always yearned to touch, and it's so clouded that her infernal eye doesn't sparkle.
"Better?"
Nemesis is not a caring person, but the word is out before she can stop it. Mel nods, gentle and quiet, and she lies still until her chest stops rising erratically and breathing isn't suffocating anymore.
Then Melinoë gets up, salutes her with a warm smile and a kind gesture and finally goes back to her tent. Nemesis is left with a sleepy thank you and the faint smell of ashes and cider haunting her, and she wonders why her tiredness dematerialized.
A cloud lifts. Nemesis takes her sword and ventures alone into the first room of Erebus — the real one, this time.
III.
The mission was clear since the start: stopping Chronos, saving his prisoners and restoring the House of Hades to its original splendor. Nice. Amazing, even. Hecate's master plan, using the youngest goddess among them as a weapon and training her until there's nothing remotely human left in her.
Nice. Amazing, even.
"She will go against her Grandfather." Hecate announces, while they're all having supper together. The Crossroads is quieter than usual, and Artemis averts her gaze as soon as the Witch starts speaking. "Melinoë, come here."
The Princess of the Underworld rests her bowl on the ground, still full of stew and soup, and she abruptly stands up. She follows her teacher's orders and goes to her, as obedient as ever, already bent in a reverent bow Hecate does not deserve.
Fuck this witch, fuck the mission and fuck the princess too.
Nemesis doesn't want to be here. Saving her mom was her goal, the reason why she trained for all this time — and now Hecate was handing her life's mission to someone else.
"Death to Chronos."
Everyone cheers, and Nemesis has to physically restrain herself from throwing the bowl at someone. She leaves quietly, under the timid gaze of the Princess of the Underworld, and the crumb of compassion left in her brain tells her not to lash out at her.
She's a victim, it's not fair. She's been raised as a weapon, not a sentient being. The pain of losing her family became her chain.
Do not follow me, I beg, for I could lash out at you.
Melinoë follows her.
"Nem!" Melinoë's voice echoes through the fake woods, closer and closer to where Nemesis stands. She's tired, she's angry, she's going insane — and if Melinoë wants to be yelled at, she is more than willing to grant this wish of hers.
"Nem? Nem! — ah! Here you are!" The Princess of the Underworld runs to her, oh so light and dreamy, and she wears a sheepish smile when she finally catches up. Nemesis deliberately slows her step, but she doesn't stop. "Where are you going?"
"Not your business."
"Not my business, right," Melinoë chuckles, worried, and Nemesis has to take a deep breath. "but it is. I know you're upset —"
"If you actually believed that, you wouldn't have bothered me. And yet, here we are. Now go."
"I —"
"I said go."
"I won't do something just because you ordered me to." Melinoë's gaze is serious now: her brows are furrowed and her cheeks are tinted red, and there's a faint sign of sadness? Anger? Paranoia? painted all over her features. "I wanted to check up on you."
"I want to punch you. Go away."
"I know." Melinoë takes a step forward, Nemesis takes a step back. She clenches her fists, steadying herself. "I know you want to punch me. I know you want to punch Hecate. I know you're angry, I know this was your task and they gave it to me. I'm sorry."
"Shut your mouth, princess." The venom behind her voice is palpable, and Nemesis speaks baring all her teeth. She hopes that it is enough. "You know nothing. They stripped me bare — they took my purpose and made it your own."
"I know. I'm sorr—"
"I said," Nemesis snaps, taking a step forward and pushing Melinoë aside. "shut your mouth. Go away."
Nemesis does not turn back. In the back of her mind, when the high tide of anger has quieted and shame finally washes over her, she can almost picture her — the Princess of the Underworld she left there, dumbfounded and hurt, with a new bruise on her slender shoulder and another fresh wound on her heart. She can almost picture her — Melinoë standing there, forgotten and ignored, alone against the darkness of Erebus with a flaming heart and the softest of eyes.
Nemesis wonders when her fantasy started getting mixed up with reality. She wonders when she started noticing the princess' solitude, or when it started stinging. She wonders when Melinoë's eyes started shining so brightly under the light of the Moon, or when she started looking at her with that softness in her gaze.
A cloud lifts. The Fates have decided, and the weapon Hecate so meticulously crafted finally takes her quest.
/
Meeting Melinoë during her descent to Tartarus was not what Nemesis hoped. She prayed that their paths never crossed, not once, because she was pretty sure that their choices could never overlap. Erebus was a labyrinth, one she knew and Melinoë didn't.
(Erebus still chose to let them meet multiple times.)
"What are you doing here?"
"Oh, shut up." Nemesis hits a wretch, then another, then another. The princess almost seems offended. "Are you surprised?"
"You should be —"
"I do what I want." Nemesis hits the skull of a wailer with the handle of her sword and it cracks loudly. "And right now, I want to kill these bastards. Are you able to keep up?"
"I'm here for this."
"Then get to work." A kick, a spin, then Melinoë's blade splits the head of another wretch clean open. She winks at her, and Nemesis finds it terribly irritating. "I might even go out of my way to compensate you."
"Is this a challenge?"
"Whatever."
Melinoë dances around her enemies like it's nothing, slashing and piercing and killing with hypnotic precision. Nemesis can't help but look at her rival — she fights because she's a warrior and her arms move on their own, but her gaze can't stop following the princess and her weird, deadly dance, illuminated by the spectral light of her arm and the shades bowing at her.
For the first time in forever, Nemesis gets distracted. A wretch hits her, and it hits her hard.
"Focus!" When Nemesis is back on her feet, Lim and Oros have already taken care of her enemy. The room is finally silent, except for the thrumming sound in her head, and the first thing she sees when her vision finally comes into focus is Melinoë, brows furrowed and face glistening, outstretching her hand towards her.
"You okay?"
Nemesis wants to take her hand and get up. Nemesis brusquely moves Melinoë's hand out of the way.
"You won."
Nemesis tosses her a centaur heart, a thing that's raw and pulsing and maybe it's distracting enough to hide the flush coloring her own cheeks. She finally gets up with a jump, fixing her dress and armor, and never looks into her rival's eyes.
"I won? What?"
"Take that thing and get out of my way. I mean it."
(Their paths are meant to cross again. Again, and again, and again; because her damned sisters hate her and her stupid fucking life. Their paths are so woven together that it's difficult to tell when one starts and the other ends, and Nemesis starts questioning her own sanity once again.)
IV.
"I got these bath salts."
"Interesting." Nemesis is not even looking at her; she's polishing her sword while sitting on the ground of her beloved post. She can see the way Melinoë shuffles on her feet, restless and uneasy, and Nemesis feels the headache creeping up on her until —
"Would you like to come with me?"
That caught her attention. Nemesis takes a deep breath, then finally meets the princess' gaze. She looks determined, despite the redness of her cheeks and the visible anticipation she's experiencing. Melinoë's hair is all ruffled on her forehead and her eyes are filled with hope.
Beautiful.
"Are you insane?"
"I — the baths. I restored them, and I really think that you need a break."
Thank you for bringing this back on familiar territory. The teasing, the never-ending bickering — Nemesis is well versed in this kind of behavior, and it distracts her from having thoughts she doesn't need to have.
"Excuse me?"
Melinoë smiles. "Maybe you'll stop being such a pain. Now come, if you wish."
The Princess of the Underworld goes, not really waiting for Nemesis' answer — the thing is, they both know that Nemesis will always end up following her. She's as deadly as a siren, with her peculiar orange dress delicately swaying in the wind and her naked back exposed, and Nemesis is now lured into her sea.
"Why are you asking me, princess? You have a lot of friends now. You're kind of popular."
Melinoë's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Jealous of your own siblings?"
"Why should I be jealous?" You're here with me, Nemesis wants to say. She bites her words back.
"I'm just messing with you. Now sit there, I'll help you with that armor of yours."
"Eager to undress me?"
"Don't get your hopes up, I'm eager to get in the water. I'm tired."
"Mh."
The silence that follow is familiar and it feels like whispering a secret to someone dear. Melinoë is strangely quiet and Nemesis definitely doesn't need to think too much about the princess and her unusual behavior — especially when she's helping her taking her armor off.
Curiosity, however, is a tough opponent.
"This is weird."
"What?" Melinoë lets out a breathless laugh, and Nemesis knows that she's right. Something is wrong. "Come on, we grew up together. I don't think this is a big deal."
"Oh, shut up. I don't mind." Nemesis finally turns around, drinking in the sight of Melinoë. "You look like a mess."
"Thank you."
"I mean it, princess." A strong hand shoots out, settling on Melinoë's waist. She almost jumps at the sudden contact, and her reaction almost makes Nemesis rethink her next move.
She doesn't. She reaches out with the other hand and gently guides the princess towards the water, placing her between her legs. Nemesis is not built for kind gestures and care — she doesn't even know why she's trying this hard for someone that probably hates her, but there she is, fighting her own nature to make the Princess of the Underworld feel less lonely in this gargantuan task of hers.
Melinoë's crown is warm against her skin when Nemesis takes it off. It's a weird weight to hold, she ponders, trying her best not to think about the softness of the princess' hair under her fingers.
"Now, this is weird. Are you sure you don't want to drown me?"
"I haven't decided yet."
But then Melinoë melts against her, and Nemesis is left speechless.
"Just make it quick."
"Shut up."
Silence. It's not familiar now, it's uncomfortable and charged with words Nemesis doesn't understand. She rests Melinoë's garments on the floor and finally joins her in the water, uncharacteristically close, unbearably worried. Nemesis isn't used to lead: she follows, she listens, she fights. Conversations aren't her forte, but Melinoë is not breaking this weird silence she threaded around them and there's an even weirder feeling creeping up her spine.
"Melinoë."
The princess exhales. She rests her head against the edge of the pool and closes her eyes. "It sounds pretty, coming from your lips."
"What?"
"My name. You rarely use it."
Nemesis is restless now. She knows something's wrong, but she doesn't know what and it's driving her mad.
"You're weird tonight."
"I'm tired, Nem." Melinoë looks vulnerable, terribly so, and for the first time in her life Nemesis doesn't want to fight. "I'm tired. This whole killing Time shit is terrible. I don't know what I'm fighting for — is it Headmistress Hecate? The Silver Sisters? My family? My family, yeah. That's a wild concept, Nem. Who are those people? What if I don't belong with them? I'm fighting and I'm dying every night, suffering wound after wound and insult after insult, for people that will probably be strangers forever to me. They didn't raise me. I don't know them and they don't know me. I'm questioning my own sanity."
"If they don't know you, they will. If you want them to be your family, then they will be your family. Otherwise, you already have a family."
"Do I, now?"
"Yeah," Nemesis speaks in a matter-of-fact way, reaching out for Melinoë's hand underwater. The princess freezes, and they both become fully aware that something that has never been said between them has finally taken shape. "yeah. The Crossroads."
Melinoë squeezes her hand back. "And what about you?"
"What?"
"You. You're in the Crossroads. Are you part of my family too?"
Isn't that obvious? Nemesis wants to say. Instead she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're stretching it."
Melinoë giggles, light and beautiful, and rests her head on Nemesis' shoulder. "Good."
The silence that follow is familiar, warm, and somehow it's still heavy on Nemesis' heart.
Melinoë dozes off, lulled by the soft skin under her head and the gentle scent of the bath salts, but her brows remain furrowed — and it's not a sight that Nemesis likes, so she takes a deep breath, tries her best to ignore the lurking shades, and finally reaches out to smooth them out a bit.
She wonders how they ended up like this, but when Melinoë stirs and decides to snuggle up against her, Nemesis finds herself thinking that maybe it's not that bad.
V.
Victory is an easy feeling to get used to.
Melinoë kills Chronos over and over, chipping away at his resolution night after night — and the Crossroads is celebrating every victory, every night; but the Titan's words are cruel and they soon become knives meant to stay and rot in the princess' heart. Chronos doesn't care about her, about her stolen childhood, about her training and the dehumanization she came to normalize — he doesn't care that Melinoë, his granddaughter, has been raised to be a weapon crafted with the sole purpose to end his pathetic existence.
And there stands Melinoë, phantasmal and resplendent, with her eyes cast downward and her bleeding heart sewn on the sleeve of her dress.
"You did it again, Melinoë. Good job."
"Thank you, Headmistress." Her voice doesn't sound right, wait — "I hope we can make it."
"Of course we can, Melinoë. We're moving onto the next phase of our plan."
"I see. Thank you, Headmistress."
Melinoë bows, saluting her mentor and running straight for the training grounds. She looks distraught, tense; she doesn't stop at Moros' place, she doesn't sing her stupid song with Artemis; she doesn't come to say hello, she doesn't seek advice from Odysseus. It's unusual.
Melinoë is the heart of the Crossroads and she doesn't even realize it — everyone looks out for her, everyone is rooting for her, everyone wants to share a little piece of that bleeding heart roaming free between Heaven and Earth, their blessing, their walking benediction.
For the first time in forever, Nemesis follows her own lead. She prays, picking up the pace, that she's still in time.
/
She finds the Princess of the Underworld halfway through Erebus. Melinoë is badly hurt and she's cornered — fuck that Oath and her stupid will to please the witch, damn it — but most importantly, she looks utterly devastated.
Nemesis crushes the skull of that Wailer with much more force than needed.
"Princess."
Melinoë lets out a shaky sigh and gets up, using Lim and Oros to steady herself. Her legs are shaking, her chest is painted red and there's lots of blood pooling at her feet.
"A punch, right? I can take another hit, Nem. Give me your worst."
"Have you lost your damn mind?"
"What? It's your stupid little game, isn't it? I'm telling you, I accept this challenge. Hit me." Melinoë opens her arms, trying her best not to fall. Her last words are coated in venom — unusual, weird — and Nemesis is left speechless. She looks at Melinoë's nose, bruised and bloodied; at her laurels, now faint in their glowing; at her mismatched eyes that look too dull. The smell of cinder and blood is unbearable, and Nemesis wants nothing more than to take Melinoë home.
"Melinoë. Let's go back."
"Shut up. You don't get to say what I need to do."
"I said that we're going back."
"And I say fuck you. Hit me, before I change my mind and I end up hitting you."
Nemesis' sword hits the ground with a sound thud. "Give me your worst, princess. I'm not hitting you, but it seems like you need to hit me. Come on. Let me see what you're made of."
That seems to shut her up for good. Melinoë's expression changes, shifting from venomous to confused, and Nemesis can't help but notice the feeble shaking of her hands around the handle of her blades.
"Come on, I'm sturdy. I can take a few hits. Let it out."
Melinoë's gaze sharpens, and so does the grip on her weapons. She starts running around — the smell of cinder, the taste of blood, the grace of a goddess that taunts her existence from the dawn of time — and then she charges at full speed, aiming at Nemesis' chest with both blades.
Nemesis closes her eyes, steading herself for a hit that never comes. Instead, when she opens them again, Melinoë is crouched on the ground in front of her, shaking, bruised and bloodied and so terribly human.
"I'm tired of this, Nem."
Nemesis kneels in front of her: it was bound to happen. Melinoë is a princess and Nemesis is nothing more than a warrior, and yet — not like this, not in Erebus, not after a fight. She was meant to kneel in the House of Hades, bowing to the Princess of the Underworld in reverence, the same princess who shared her whole life with her — but now she's kneeling in front of a lost soul, restless and forgotten. Nemesis doesn't like that.
"Get up. Don't you dare take pity on me."
"Shut up, Mel." Nemesis gently grabs her shoulders and helps her to her feet. "Let's go back. You're in no shape to fight tonight."
"I need to continue."
"Look at you. You're a mess and you're not gonna get past Hecate like this, princess."
Melinoë's eyes never looked that haunted. "Then I'll mend my wounds and I'll try again."
"Can you stop being stupid for a whole second?"
"What good am I for, Nemesis, if I can't fight?"
"What the fuck are you blabbering on about?"
Melinoë punches her rival with both hands, hitting her armor and resting her fists there. Her head hangs low and her shoulders are shaking uncontrollably — she's crying. She's crying. "I am nothing more than a weapon. I'm fighting for a family that doesn't recognize me. I'm killing Time every night so that I can talk to a brother who feels estranged to me and who doesn't fully believe the weight of my misery. I saw my father and he refused my gifts, my compassion, my help. He looked at me like I didn't belong there. And my mother — I've never even seen her — but I tried offering Headmistress Hecate a gift and she told me, as stern as ever, that she's not my mother. I am a nobody that fights to be seen, Nem, but my title speaks volumes. Go unseen. Forgotten."
The thing is, Nemesis stopped listening to her as soon as she said the word weapon. She knew. She knew that it was a wicked act to put such a name to someone, to put such a huge weight to a young goddess' shoulders — she knew that Melinoë would have lost it sooner or later.
"Do something. Say something. Knock me out, Nem."
Nemesis wraps her arms around her.
They don't deserve you, they don't know you like we do, you will always belong with us. Oh, how Nemesis wishes that her pride won't get in her way, but her lips are sealed shut and Melinoë will never know how much their existences are bound to be tied together.
Melinoë melts against her once again, sobbing and crying and grasping at whichever piece of clothing she can reach, and Nemesis can't do anything to stop the princess' breakdown. The desperation she feels is palpable and devastatingly real, and Nemesis is too far away to think about the unspoken truth that finally lies bare between them, entwining their fates with a tight knot once again.
If you think you don't belong anywhere, you're wrong. You belong with me as much as I belong with you.
"Let's go home, Mel."
/
Melinoë's tent is warm and mystical and it's very different from her own. There is a faint smell of incense, floral and smokey, and it finally covers the unpleasant smell of dried blood and ashes that seems to be stuck in Nemesis' nostrils, no matter how good the bath salts smelt.
"Now rest." Nemesis leads Melinoë to her bedding, kneeling in front of it to better lay the princess down. "If I see you sneak out I swear that I'll hit you."
"I'll do it on purpose then."
"You never learn when to shut up, right?"
"No, not really." Melinoë finally, finally smiles, and a cloud lifts. Nemesis is stuck with this absolute menace of a goddess, one who bears embers in her gaze and succumbs to the fleeting mischief of young love, and her brain freezes as soon as Melinoë's hand lingers a second too long on her forearm.
The Princess of the Underworld has always been beautiful, but there's something foreign in the way she looks now — her eyes are half-lidded, her touch is too light; her cheeks are flushed red and her hair is still disheveled and damp from the bath. She wears no laurels tonight, but she shines nonetheless.
Nemesis' gaze shifts. She looks at the skeletal arm still holding onto her.
"Princess —"
"My name."
Nemesis is drawn to her in a way that makes her hands go numb and her legs give out. A rival, a childhood friend, someone to spar with; that's what Melinoë has always been to her. That's what she always told herself, because the mere possibility of calling her lover left her speechless, breathless, dreaming about a world that felt too out of reach.
"Melinoë."
"What do you see when you look at me, Nem?"
Who am I to you? The question lingers in the air, and Nemesis gets it. She kneels again, she kneels again, she kneels again — please, don't, let's not complicate this, let's —
"A possibility."
"Please," Melinoë's skeletal hand moves up and down her forearm, light and haunting. Nemesis can't help but bend over, closer, diving face first into her siren's call. "What am I like? Who am I?"
"You're a fucking hot-headed fool who loves to take on challenges way bigger than herself. You're a witch, a terrifically powerful one; you love flowers and animals, you're a bit too kind for your own good and your determination is both the most fascinating and the most infuriating thing about you. You drive me insane."
Melinoë giggles and the sound reverberates like silver bells in Nemesis' chest. "Anything else?"
"I'm Retribution Incarnate, Mel," Nemesis can't win against this opponent — she's powerless, or maybe she just doesn't want to fight this anymore. Her fingers move on their own, tracing the line of Melinoë's forehead with reverent grace, then threading themselves lightly in those ruffled blonde bangs she came to adore. "and I've always thought you deserved better than this."
"Are you going soft on me?"
You've always been my soft spot, Nemesis thinks, instead she huffs at the princess' words and tries to get up — but Melinoë is quicker and she shoots up, looping her arms around her beloved rival's neck.
"You're not going anywhere."
"You're bossy."
"Come on, you love it."
There it is again, the lump in her throat that makes Nemesis want to question her whole existence. "Shut up, princess."
Melinoë doesn't miss a beat. There's a stupid smile on her stupid pretty face and Nemesis couldn't try and stop this even if she tried. "Make me."
"Have you always been this flirty?"
"Have you always been this clueless?"
Nemesis kisses Melinoë like she's telling a secret, Melinoë kisses Nemesis like she guards the key to her whole existence. The kiss is messy, uncoordinated, eager and handsy on both sides — Melinoë's fingers end up in Nemesis' hair, grabbing and pulling and grounding them both, and there's a poor veiled desperation in each and every movement of hers that makes Nemesis' head get lighter by the second.
But Nemesis can't have nice things, because she needs to earn them and this is not the case.
"Wait — Mel. Wait."
She feels a kiss on the corner of her mouth, then one square on her lips. Melinoë tilts her head to the side, careful and curious, and there's a quiet determination in her eyes that resembles the dormant embers of a wildfire. She rests her hands on both side of Nemesis' neck, feather-like and taunting, and looks up at her.
"Let me guess: you want to put this on your pile of ambrosia and nectar bottles, right?"
"I —"
Melinoë's fingers are deliberately slow and steady, tracing the side of Nemesis' neck with calculated intention. The Princess of the Underworld looks hauntingly beautiful while she's laying underneath her, messy and disheveled, and for the first time in her life Nemesis' resolution crumbles completely. Maybe — surely — she doesn't deserve this, but the thought is not enough to stop Nemesis from tracing the soft line of Melinoë's cheeks, her now bruised lips, her jaw — every touch is followed by a kiss, an effort, a kindness returned in full. There are lots of unsaid things and unspoken thoughts hanging between them, but there's action now and it speaks louder than any word — Melinoë clings to her rival once again, mapping her skin with the tip of her fingers and finally, finally tracing her body with both her eyes and hands.
"Did you have a change of heart?"
She reaches for Nemesis' hairpin and tugs. A cascade of black hair fall right in front of them both, earning an annoyed sigh and a defeated little smile from the goddess of Retribution. Melinoë immediately picks up where she left, sliding a curious hand under the fabric of Nemesis' collar and breaking their kiss to watch her reaction.
"Nem." Melinoë smiles, studying Nemesis' expression. "What did you mean when you said I'm a possibility?"
"You talk too much."
Nemesis tilts her head, leaving a trail of kisses on the princess' neck and earning a whine or two. She feels Melinoë's hand in her hair again, gently tugging her upwards, and before she can even think about what to do next they're kissing again.
Nemesis feels it again, the feeling of belonging and being at home. It's stronger than ever, with Melinoë's mouth pressed against hers and her hands desperately grasping at her skin, and it's a feeling so destabilizing that Nemesis almost fears it. Melinoë chants her name like a prayer — her name? Prayed? — and tries her best to undo the mere possibility of their bodies being even an inch apart. She pulls Nemesis' hair and kisses her roughly, senselessly, searching for an answer that does not exist — or does it? — on the skin connecting Nemesis' neck and shoulder.
"Nem, please —"
Nemesis nods against the princess' cheek, sliding her hands down her torso. She feels the coldness of Melinoë's metal belt against her fingers, but there's fire everywhere and it definitely doesn't bother her — Nemesis rests her head against Melinoë's chest, rubbing circles against her hips and wondering if every single choice of her life was meant to lead her in her rival's tent, half undressed, laying on top of her and toying with the hem of her dress. She wonders if she should consider this a prize, a curse or just the fated course of events.
"Don't worry, I got you."
VI.
The flow of time is restored, and Melinoë comes home victorious. She decides that she doesn't belong with her family in the House of Hades; instead, her heart lies in a dark corner of the Crossroads, guarded by the most dedicated of protectors.
"He betrayed your trust," Nemesis whispers, tracing Melinoë's features while she lays half asleep. "he discarded your will and acted like he knew better. What an asshole."
The Princess of the Underworld chuckles, basking in the warmth of Nemesis' touch. "Do you want to punish my brother?"
A scoff. "Yeah. I could."
"It's alright, Nem," Melinoë finally turns around, facing her beloved with half lidded eyes and messy hair. Again. She takes Nemesis' hand in hers, illuminating her face with the faint glow of her skeletal arm, and the picture is so ethereal that it doesn't seem real. Goddess of nightmares, they call her, but she has the eyes of Nemesis' most cherished dream.
"I know he meant well. His actions were… questionable, but he got the job done."
"He didn't, princess. You're still fighting the evil versions of your damn grandfather and the monstrous remains of Typhon."
Melinoë leans over to plant a kiss on Nemesis' mouth. She's smiling, damn her, and Nemesis knows that she's about to get on her nerves. "But I get home to you every night, right?"
"It's the least you could do."
"It's my prize, Retribution Incarnate."
Nemesis frowns at the title. "Your prize?"
"I endured years of training, senseless sparring and fights with you just to win against Time and share my tent with my oh-so-beloved rival. I think I won this one."
"You didn't get to bring your family back — not in the way you wanted."
Melinoë smiles again. Her eyes shimmer with a new kind of sparkle, a new light; it's like she got the answers she was seeking and peace finally belongs to her. Her laurels rest on her bedside table, still royal, still resplendent — but the actual source of light comes from within, and it is expressed by the tender touches Melinoë gifts Nemesis every night.
"You know this is my family, Nem. I will never regret coming back home."
"But —"
Melinoë shushes her and scoots closer, impossibly closer, until there's no space between them and she can comfortably rest her head on Nemesis' chest. "No buts. This is where I belong."
Nemesis nods against her, savoring the feeble smell of lavender coming from the princess' hair. This is where we belong, she wants to say, but her lips stay shut once again. She plants a kiss on Melinoë's forehead, hoping that it is enough for her to understand the enormous feeling they share.
Melinoë nods, then kisses her jaw. It will always be enough.