Chapter 1: the woods
Chapter Text
BLEED OUT FOR YOU
PART I - the woods
Trudging into the depth of woods, Zelda muttered a curse under her breath.
She had been regretting that decision since she accepted, moved by some inexplicable loyalty she felt the need to nurture toward the new deity she was supposed to worship.
Lilith was different from the Dark Lord: although the First Woman had always been Zelda Spellman’s first choice as the goddess to worship rather than Lucifer - who seemed to care only for his male devotees - everything had changed.
Because Lilith had the crown now, that was true, and was Queen of Hell, hence rightful receiver of the Coven’s prayers - and hers as well -, but the demoness was also the one who helped the misfortune descend on her family, not to mention her relentless work to beguile Sabrina back into her deceiver father’s arms.
Zelda was practically obliged to hate her guts, despite all. And so Zelda made sure that Lilith knew she was worshipped simply because it was right, but not for gratitude or respect born from actions because there had been none, except relieving her niece from the infernal throne, which was the object of the First Woman’s desires for millennia anyway.
There was no reason to think Lilith hadn’t acted the way she acted if not for egotistical purposes. The fact that, in the process, Sabrina had been freed from duties that were simply too big for a half-mortal teenager, was a pure coincidence.
Zelda disliked that woman but felt also it was right to be respectful because, after all, she was the one they worshipped. Their relationship had to remain professional, a collaboration between sovereign and priestess: while Lilith was queen in the infernal realm, she was one on earth, directly answering to her in exchange for protection. With the Dark Lord, they had powers too, and that was the main reason why she was stumbling in the woods at midnight, following as the demoness strode deep into the forest, apparently unbothered by her struggle.
She liked to think Lilith didn’t care, that she was there only to find a solution to their current situation, simply to have a reason to complain in her head, so when Lilith turned around almost instinctively, reaching out to offer her hand, one of her boots perched on top of the fallen trunk they needed to climb over, Zelda merely glared at her and tried to do it by herself, refusing help, risking falling off in her much less appropriate choice of shoes.
Lilith winced, hardly resisting the impulse of rolling her eyes, and huffed annoyedly as she actually took in the powerless witch’s pride.
“Why did you bring me here?” Zelda snarled, heaving a small pant when they finally reached a clearing and the demoness seemed to slow down.
At the pale light of the moon, further dimmed by the treetops gently swaying in the cool breeze of the night, the altar was barely visible.
“Here’s the place where Lucifer fell,” Lilith exhaled, voice thick with unshed emotions battling within her, millennia of memories creeping into her mind like billions of howling ghosts. She blinked as if awoken by her daydream and tightened her lips into a bittersweet, patronizing smile, “I bet you know the story.” She almost purred, head tilted to the side.
Unexpectedly, Zelda found herself staring at the subtle movements of her hair, dark curls swinging in the late-night wind.
“I do.” The witch confirmed, her eyes dropping on the swirls that Lilith was tracing on the coarse surface of the altar with her fingertips.
Grazing at it almost affectionately, her hand moved on the ancient rock for a while, until she stopped, her nail tapping at it, blue eyes, almost iridescent at the pale moonlight, snapped up, locking into Zelda’s gaze.
“Devoted Zelda, reading her Satanic Bible every night before bed.” She smiled, her voice just slightly leaning toward a mockery.
Lilith had all the rights to mock her for being so dedicated to such a vile deity - all those centuries wasted since the first time she started praying solely to Lucifer as her father wanted.
“I changed my habits long ago.” She said defensively, crossing her arms over her chest. Frowning, she kept staring, vaguely realizing that the witching hour was almost upon them and keeping that information somewhere in the back of her mind.
“Oh, I know.” Lilith asserted, her blood-coated mouth carrying one of those sardonic, everlasting smirks of hers.
Zelda sighed annoyedly. For a moment, she thought of the possibility of Lilith summoning her in the middle of the night and claiming her presence in the woods because she had something to discuss of being just an excuse, a sickening way to prove the power she now owned over the army of little earthly witches that had no choice but to worship the same woman that, once, had merely been considered the Dark Lord’s concubine.
“Why are we here, Lilith?” She scoffed, “I have more important things to do than strolling in the woods at night... like for instance find a way to get our powers back. If I’m not mistaken, I thought you said you would help.”
“I bet you didn’t know, however, that this is the place where I healed Him.” Lilith began to walk slowly around the altar, her head bobbing gently up and down, completely unaffected by the witch’s words. “Despite being created by the False God, I healed the fallen angel with magic when He wasn’t yet the great Satan, Lord of the Underworld, King of Darkness.”
Zelda narrowed her eyes, utterly confused. She was aware of the inaccuracies of the unholy scriptures, she knew there were flaws in their books, the same she intended to rectify, but that information changed practically everything: Lilith was indeed the First Witch, making all the witches her descendants in some ways, but unlike them, who used to get their powers from the Dark Lord, Lilith had magic of her own, of an entirely different kind. That was why, perhaps, she was immortal and able to create life and do all those miraculous things that made Lucifer keep her near, at His services, for all those millennia.
Perhaps… perhaps, even if not of angelic nature, Lilith could transfer her powers onto them as well. But then again, why hadn’t she done it already? No, Zelda couldn’t get ahead of herself, she needed to know everything.
“I can only partly see where this is going, Lilith. I need you to be more specific on this.” She said, managing to keep her voice straight despite the sheer confusion washing over her. Zelda wasn’t fully sure it was only the wind to make her shiver.
Lilith’s smile dropped suddenly, her eyes darkened. Her whole face, wearing the usual mask of strength and superiority, was now dismal, carrying the tinge shadow of fear. Lilith was remembering . She was picturing those days after her creation, what she did, what she felt; she was seeing it all, flashing before her eyes and she was genuinely, unexpectedly scared. And was it regret, that sparkle chasing the other sorrowful emotions on her face?
“To this day, I have close to no clue about the origin of my powers, but I obtained magic and taught myself how to use it.” The brunette sighed, eyes bright in the dead of night. “I offered my help so I was hoping we could find a way for you and your Coven to obtain and grow magic from within you, without the help of a deity supplying it. Like me.”
“Lilith, you turned into a monster.” The other replied, almost automatically.
“That I did.” The demoness nodded, a hint of a bitter smile tugging at her lips.
Seeing her like that, made the witch’s heart clench. Never once in her life, she’d thought about questioning the First Woman’s choice about becoming a powerful demon, the Dawn of Doom, but now that she could see the desolation flaring in those eyes, Zelda was starting to reconsider: power always had a price and maybe, just maybe, Lilith was regretting that choice despite not being able to go back. If she could, would she?
“I’m sorry.” She muttered hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s the past.” Interjected the demoness. “I’m free now, all my sacrifices have been repaid. At the moment, I’m trying to make it up for all the wrongs I’ve done. Starting with you- your family and your Coven.”
Drawing a long breath, Zelda unfolded her arms from her chest and approached the demoness. She couldn’t help but notice how, despite the similar height they shared, Lilith seemed taller, cloaked by that aura of power and regality shining around her.
Zelda had always thought her magic was powerful, but now that it was nurtured by the infernal realm, it was glowing out of her, extending iridescent fingers outside for everyone able to grasp them and feed on it. If only they could find a way to do that, all their problems will be solved: a way to gather magic and powers and grow them thanks to Lilith herself, in constant communion with their deity, something that had never occurred before.
“Do you think it’s possible?”
“It’s worth a try.” Lilith murmured.
Once again, the demoness reached out with her hand and, this time, Zelda took it, fingers almost naturally interlocking as Lilith guided her close to the altar, putting their connected hands in the middle of it.
Immediately, a sparkle of electricity sizzled on the inanimate rock.
“What-?”
“The witching hour is upon us.” Lilith breathed in, tilting her head backward toward the dark, celestial vault. “Perhaps whatever entity provided me with power when I most needed magic, will hear our prayers and bless this union.”
“Union?” Zelda replied dumbly, her eyes wide in shock, waiting for the next sparkle.
“Between the infernal realm and Earth.” Lilith confirmed.
Zelda lifted her gaze ever so slowly. Still peering up at the sky, Lilith appeared ethereal, her touch scalding over her hand, and yet her fingers weighed nothing at all over hers. Caught in the waiting for something miraculous to happen, the witch helplessly thought she was simply majestic. She swallowed, considering the idea of abandoning those thoughts, but instead, she dwelled in those, sure that, after all, nobody could have ever exposed her nor the inconvenient thoughts in her mind.
Lilith sighed, her chest expanding beneath her leather coat as she breathed in the cool air.
Zelda wondered if she was truly shielded from her diety’s mind-reading, especially when their hands were linked, when the demoness looked down and a smirk bloomed on her lips; improbable, but not impossible.
“And if this succeeds-” Lilith started, but gasped when another sparkle, stronger and brighter this time, sizzled on the altar and webbed, for a second, over the whole surface, discharging into the ground. “If this succeeds, then it’ll mean that-”
“I would start praying louder.”
Both their heads snapped up, frowning at the source of that unfamiliar voice.
A boy was standing on the small hill a few feet from them, a wide, patronising grin plastered on his mouth. “I don’t think anybody will come to your aid, witches.” He snarled.
Instinctively, Lilith and Zelda unlocked their hands, ready to fend for themselves for any possible attack coming from the intruder.
The redhead didn’t have much magic in her, but she tried to focus her powers nonetheless. Frowning, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the unnatural light coming from behind the boy’s shoulders, she tried to recognize him, and when she failed, she tried to take him in to determine his intentions. Then, she saw it: the blond hair, the dark clothes, the crossbow draped over his back and, if she squinted her eyes, she could also see the faint outline of angelic wings contrasting with the light. They were-
“Witch Hunters.” Lilith scoffed, a mocking tone hanging from her lips. “Really? I thought we were past that.”
In a blink of an eye, a light flashed into their eyes and blinded them for a split second. When the gift of sight came back, the boy was inches away from them.
“The war has just begun.” He grinned. “We were defeated, but now we’re stronger.”
“Alliances have formed already?” Lilith scoffed dismissively.
Witch Hunters were dangerous creatures: shielded against dark magic by their blessed amulets, there was very little a witch could do against them. And yet, somehow, despite being magicless and vulnerable, Zelda felt safe.
In a moment, she watched Lilith extend her arm and, despite not being close enough to physically grab the boy by his neck, he startled to choke. Body in tension, constricting under the crushing pressure of an invisible grasp, he chuckled a laugh.
She didn’t like the situation. Yes, Lilith seemed to have everything under control - what was a single Witch Hunter against the Queen of Hell? - but there was something wrong with it all: why then, why there and how did a Witch Hunter find them, claiming to be stronger after the massacre happened only months ago when Sabrina first discovered her destiny as the infernal herald?
“The enemy of your enemy is your friend, witch, isn’t that what they say?” The boy struggled, her voice coming out strangled from his mouth.
“Witch? I’m not a witch.” Lilith let out an unimpressed giggle. “Not only that, that’s why I’m able to kill you, boy.”
Zelda watched with the corner of her eye the delight blooming into the demoness’s face when he started to actually choke, blood and spit gathering at the corner of his mouth as he struggled to breathe, still.
“We defeated the great Satan.” Lilith went on, tilting her head to the side as she squeezed, making his eyes bulk out. “Tell me, boy, who do you think will stop us?”
With his dying breath, the Witch Hunter smiled. A smile that made Zelda shiver.
“The old ones are coming.” He croaked, his smile growing in size. “You will be doomed, demon.” Practically purposelessly now, he weakly reached behind his back to retrieve his bow. He was dead before he could even touch the wooden tiller.
The horrendous crack of the vertebrae in his neck, as Lilith snapped it with her mind, however, was nothing compared with the inhuman shriek that echoed through the night only a fraction of seconds later.
Zelda had barely time to register it coming from Lilith before being pushed harshly to the ground. Shocked and confused, heart thumping like a mad horse into her chest, she tried to instinctively cushion her fall with her hands and landed on the cold ground padded with dead leaves.
Short of breath, she hastily rolled over her back, but fear pinned her to the ground.
In horror, she saw a dagger shining at the silvery moonlight, its blade covered in fresh, dripping blood. The girl yielding the weapon - platinum hair floating in the wind, bloodstained eyes and a crossbow draped on her back - raised her arm again, and Lilith, half writhing in pain as she tried in vain to reach the wound between her shoulder blades, half turned toward Zelda from when the demoness pushed her away, could do nothing to prevent the dagger from plunging a second time into her body, right in the middle of her chest.
Another feral scream, though muffled this time, with a growl of pure rage coming from the depth of her throat.
Another crack of bones when the girl’s neck snapped, leaving her head hanging behind her back at an awkward, macabre angle before her lifeless body fell to the ground.
With her, Lilith, too, fell.
On her knees, trembling hands pressing over the flow of thick blood gushing out of the wound, the Queen of Hell stood breathlessly, eyes wide in disbelief and pain shaking her fragile form.
Zelda took a moment to stir from her dazzlement, her empty mind getting flooded with all kinds of contrasting thoughts and emotions; fear, for the most part, but also dread and something entirely different that she couldn’t nor had the time to grasp or discern.
Messily pushing herself off the ground, she hurried to an injured Lilith, adrenaline and panic taking a toll on her limbs and making her trip more than one time in the short distance between them. When she arrived, Zelda wasted no time to drop to her knees as well, scared, frenzy eyes boring into Lilith’s bleary ones.
“You’re bleeding !” She stated obviously, her voice quivering unexpectedly. “Why aren’t you healing?”
“Witch Hunters’ blades are made to break in the flesh.” Lilith stated, a painful chuckle shaking her body. “I still am the First among Witches, hence I suffer the effects of blessed silver.” She explained, the last part of the sentence coming out in a wheeze before Lilith began to sway and, a moment later, she collapsed forward.
Zelda promptly caught her, instinctively cradling her back and head against her, wincing when she felt the hot stream soiling immediately in her hand. She didn’t know if Lilith had simply no strength in her, if the blade was suckling life away or if she simply had decided to abandon in her hold, but the demoness fell limply against her, almost relaxing into the unexpected embrace.
The witch felt her heart constricting despite its mad thumping, and fear rising into her throat and throb inside her head, almost painfully, clouding her eyes.
“You knew she was coming,” She swallowed, a strangled sob hardly contained beep in her throat, “why did you push me away, you could’ve killed her right away, and instead-”
“She would have come for you.” Lilith coughed, her whole body quaking. “Even if you had powers, you wouldn't stand a chance.”
Feeling her grow even heavier against her shoulder, Zelda leaned forward, gently laying her limp body into the ground. Blood was pouring already into the dirt from the wound in her back, while the gash in her front, still loosely compressed by her own folded hands, kept soaking into her clothes.
Trembling, Zelda reached out and pushed away Lilith’s hands to press into the wound herself, wincing in sympathy when the demoness let out a weak lament.
“You didn’t get a better one, apperently.” She tried to think of something, but nothing came to mind: they had just been attacked by Witch Hunters and Lilith had been injured. Lilith had been injured because of her, because she was a simple witch - with no powers no less - and instead of think for herself, instead of on unleashing her violence, her feral nature against her enemies, she’d think of Zelda’s safeness first and got hit in the process; twice, and it was bad.
The redhead swallowed thickly, her sight becoming even more blurred than before.
“But they’re dead?” Lilith asked all of the sudden, eyes wide open, unblinking, searching right, left, for any sign of foreign life.
“They’re dead.” Zelda confirmed, but her voice came out strangled.
Silently, she watched the demoness closing her eyes once, allowing herself to rest just for a split second, before staring up into the black sky without really seeing.
Swallowing a wretched sob threatening to erupt from the depth of her, Zelda dabbed the back of her free hand on her mouth, eyes searching around frenziedly though she was already aware that nobody would have come there, that they were alone, that she was alone, facing that catastrophe.
She scoffed in frustration, feeling completely lost, regret and guilt and hopelessness chasing each other inside her head and chest in rapid succession and she would have screamed and yelled and unleashed all her wrath if she could, but the soft, strangled laughter coming from beneath her got her completely puzzled.
“Well, what an unfortunate way to go.” Lilith coughed again, her crimson lips getting spotted with fresher, redder coating from the corners to the cleft in the middle. “I was created from the dirt and I will die in the dirt.”
Puzzlement got fastly replaced by anger when Zelda pressed deeper her hand against her chest. The obnoxious wet noise of drenched fabric being compressed and new thick blood cascading from it into the ground made her shiver.
“You are not dying, Lilith!” She countered, as firmly as she could muster, even though her voice trembled desperately.
Lilith blinked wearily, as if she was struggling to keep her eyes open, a strange pallor overcoming her skin while her body jerked because of powerful shivers.
“I’m as old as time, Zelda,” she smiled tiredly, a shuddering breath coming from her slightly parted lips, “don’t you think I should know?”
Dread knocked the wind out of her lungs, her eyes started to prick, her breath came shallow and uneven, her stomach began to cramp.
“I can help.” She wheezed. “I can heal you.”
Lilith shook her head softly. “You don’t have magic.” She pointed out.
“I have some,” the other retorted stubbornly, wiping the cold perspiration gathered on her upper lip, “Allow me to try at least.”
Tension held. The witch peered down into those unfocused pools of blackness where the familiar blue had almost completely disappeared and, despite the situation, she was stunned by the intensity of the demoness’s gaze.
Her brow pinched, the tip of her tongue ran over her lips, she coughed and licked the fresh blood away.
She kept staring and heaved a small sigh, head tilted to the side.
“Zelda, you’re crying.”
The redhead didn’t flinch away when Lilith reached out to touch her face, willing to collect the salty drops off the underside of her eyes but ending up smearing warm blood on her cheek.
Zelda gulped down a sob. “Allow me.” She insisted.
Trying to ignore the muffled whimpers that Lilith wasn’t able to conceal anymore, she slid one hand under her neck and looped her other arms around her waist, warning the demoness to press on the wound on her chest while she scooted closer. Zelda swallowed thickly when she realized that the brunette’s hands had hardly any strength left.
Just like she did when Sabrina was little and afraid of a nightmare and helplessly clung to her while she shivered and whimpered, utterly spent, Zelda held Lilith close to her and tried with all her might to summon all the bits of magic left in her - and a part of her, she prayed for some connection with Lilith’s so that the beaming could succeed: she needed to get her somewhere safe; she needed to get them both some place quiet and protected where she could find a solution to that mess.
“Lilith, stay with me.” She murmured, shaking her limp form. “Lilith?”
When the demoness blinked blearily at her, she unconsciously held her tighter, her fingers widening and digging into her soiled tresses to better support her head. Her heart sank when she saw that red mouth twitch into the ghost of a smile and, hopelessly, she returned it. “Think of home, I’ll get you there.”
Chapter 2: the cottage
Chapter Text
PART II - the cottage
Lanuae Magicae
Zelda braced herself to be transported into Hell.
At one point, she even thought they would find themselves in the Wastelands, or back in the woods where the False God had thrown her to Earth after being banned from the Garden; she even thought that, in the throes of pain and confusion, her own mind would have overpowered Lilith’s and they would find themselves home at the mortuary, with her family in their pajamas looking shocked at the Queen of Hell bleeding out on the carpet.
But no.
Nothing of that: Zelda had thought about millions of possibilities, but none of them included a secluded cottage in the depth of the woods, cold and dark and lonely as they come.
At first, the redhead witch held her breath as she instinctively held Lilith’s limp form closer to her chest. Underneath them, instead of the dank soil of dried mud and dead leaves, there were the soft bristles of a carpet. The moonbeams seeping through the half-closed window were barely enough to discern the outline of furniture, the empty fireplace, and the stony silence that lingered in that house, which made Zelda believe it was either empty or altogether abandoned.
“Where are we?” She inquired, brow furrowed as she whipped her head right and left, ready to explain the absurd situation to whatever mortal would have come down the stairs with a gun in their hands. None of that happened.
Instead, Lilith heaved a shaky sigh.
“Mary Wardwell’s cottage.” She mumbled, swallowing thickly. She winced, then shook her head. “I- I don’t know, I just-”
“Okay.” Zelda shushed, her heart clenching a bit as she took in the surroundings: that place was indeed cold, and dark and lonely and not even her own but of the woman from whom she stole her appearance for months, and yet, Lilith deemed it home. Millennia of existence and that was her home. “Lie down.”
Vaguely remembering that Sabrina had hinted about her teacher’s brief vacation out of town to pay a visit to some distant relatives, Zelda blindly pawed at the couch to tug a few pillows on the floor.
Still sitting on her haunches and completely untroubled by the stains of blood she was surely leaving everywhere, she settled the pillows on the carpet and gently guided Lilith to lie down on them. She made sure the demoness looked at least comfortable and threw the tartan blanket over her shivering body.
“You should go back to your family.” She heard Lilith croak.
Frozen in the action of standing up to search for something useful in that place and retrieve some valuable loot, Zelda frowned and shook her head slightly, puzzled.
“I can’t just leave you.” She whispered, stating the obvious.
“The Kings of Hell will fight against each other for the throne.” The First Woman sighed, heavy eyes closing surely of their own volition. “They will come to you: killing the Coven who betrayed the Dark Lord will likely be the last challenge to win the crown... they're too dumb to pursue the Regalia. You must be ready.”
“You are Queen, Lilith.” Zelda stated stubbornly. “There won’t be any challenges nor any race to claim the infernal crown because you won’t-”
“Don’t lie to yourself.” The other countered, unwavering, unlike her voice.
Choosing to ignore the remark, Zelda stood up on shaky legs and ventured inside the empty cottage. Flicking the lights on, she rummaged through the bathroom cabinets and retrieved the first aid kit, rubbing alcohol, bandages, she yanked towels from their racks and grabbed the pair of scissors from the drawer in the kitchen on her way back.
Dropping to her knees by Lilith’s side, she settled everything within reach on the carpet, bearing in mind to find a way to light up the mantelpiece as soon as she got the wound on the demoness’s back patched.
Zelda was so deep in her thoughts - listing over and over all the things she needed to do - that when she noticed that Lilith had her eyes closed, dread started to spread in her chest. A rivulet of dried blood stained a corner of her mouth, her skin pale under the dim light of the lamp nearby, and, for a moment, the thought of Death coming to collect yet another life crossed her mind with vibrant reality.
Then she saw the subtle movement in her neck, the shuddering rise and fall of her chest under the blanket, and Zelda allowed herself to breathe.
“I’m alive.” Lilith murmured. “Still, you shouldn’t trouble yourself.”
Deaf to the Queen’s words, Zelda carefully unpeeled the blanket off her body. New blood had gushed out of the wound, her clothes were drenched with it, and the carpet was bearing a growing puddle of crimson liquid. She wondered how much could a woman - demoniac or not - still take.
“I need to try.” She said sternly, though the witch was uncertain to whom she was talking to. Grabbing the scissors - the dried blood on her own fingers making her grip slippery on the metal - she started to cut through the leather jacket with surgical precision: first one sleeve, then the other, and in the end the tight burgundy dress she was wearing underneath, until the fabric hanged purposelessly over her body, staying on merely due to gravity.
“You're aware that the tip of the dagger is still inside?” Lilith coughed, the smile on her lips everlasting, which made the redhead shiver. She knew that, of course she did, and she was already thinking about how to get it out before treating the injuries.
Concern was eating her from the inside, while Lilith… she seemed calm. It was almost as if the demoness was waiting for an old friend to come and get her, the death she’d delayed for millennia finally arrived and she was not scared. Lilith was ready. Like she knew something that remained obscure to the High Priestess.
Perhaps the pain was becoming too much and she only desired Death as mercy: the fact that she wasn’t screaming meant very little.
“I know.” Zelda cleared her throat. “I need to patch the wound on your back first, or you’ll bleed out before I can even attempt anything.”
Drawing a sharp breath, she leaned over the demoness and gently prompt her to unlatch her hands from her wound - she was hardly pressing down anyway - and then, ever so carefully, she slid one arm under her neck and the other on the small of her back, trying to pull her up.
Lilith groaned in pain and the witch tried to be quicker, straightening her back and pulling them both into a sitting position. She felt her eyes pricking when she felt Lilith helplessly leaning into her, her limp body growing heavier on Zelda’s chest as she settled her head on her shoulder, brow pressed on the crook of her neck.
How weak she must feel to simply stay there, resting on her chest, breathing unevenly on her exposed clavicle. How much in pain she must be to allow a witch - one that should’ve been an old enemy nonetheless - to take care of her.
Where did her bite go, where did her strength disappear? Was really death coming for her? No, not under Zelda Spellman’s watch.
Determination flashing over her face, she wiped away some dampness that had gathered on her cheeks, and settled Lilith in a way that she wouldn’t need any extra support from her arms or hands, completely resting against her chest.
Quickly, with precision and care, she unpeeled the ruined clothes off her back and started to clean the wound with what she had. With shaky hands she removed the dirt from the raw edges, relieved that it only seemed a superficial cut; she wiped away the dried blood and applied some butterfly stitches to curb the heavy bleeding. It worked, and Zelda felt her heart leap when only a few stains of red seeped through the thick bandage she applied on her back to protect the wound.
Swallowing sand, she tilted her head back in utter dismay when she reminded herself that the hard part had still had to come. And what if the situation was truly hopeless? What if she couldn’t help her in any way?
Zelda had never dealt with blessed silver, before. Zelda had never dealt with an injured demon, before. Zelda was acquainted with keeping Death at bay, only she knew how many babies she’d saved during her career, but never before it had felt so important: m aybe it was because of the dynamics, maybe it was because it was about their Queen, maybe because if she didn’t succeed in saving her, all the Coven was doomed, but Zelda felt utterly lost, she felt scared, she felt lonely.
“Don’t blame yourself.”
Zelda blinked a few times when Lilith’s voice lapped her ear. She didn’t even notice she was clinging to her quivering body, her arms looped around her soiled middle, her head carelessly resting atop Lilith’s into an unforeseeable embrace.
“I need to save you.” Zelda stirred, one of her hands trailing up until she cradled the nape of her neck, gently supporting her head. “I need to try.” She echoed herself, stubbornly.
Leaning her back down, she frowned, struggling to ward off the unsettling heat that settled low in her chest when she tugged off the remaining clothes off her chest, the fabric bouncing purposelessly around her waist.
Swallowing, blindly grabbing the tweezers and hovering her hand over that bloodied chest, Zelda paused. Breathing slowly, she watched Lilith’s eyes flutter open, bright with tears and yet scarily glassy beneath, fading of the ancient light that used to sparkle there.
“You’re the first person who doesn’t leave.” She breathed out. Another cough quacked through her body and fresh blood spilled from her mouth.
Hurriedly, Zelda wiped her lips with the back of her hand, their gazes locked together.
“I won’t leave.” The words came out on their own volition. Zelda felt her cheeks aflame when Lilith, despite all, gave her an exhausted smile.
Bracing herself, the witch asked pointlessly if she was ready, and plunged the tweezers into the wound, working hazily to pull the silver shard off her flesh.
Tears spilled from Zelda’s eyes and Lilith’s agonizing screeches died into the night.
Lilith had lost consciousness a moment before she'd removed the tip of the blade.
If she had to think about those moments, Zelda couldn’t discern reality from her imagination. It was all so confused and blurry and her movements hadn’t been her own: almost as if she was looking at someone else eradicate the offending shard from the wound, rummage through the old cookie tin to retrieve needle and thread to sew the bloody, raw edges of the wound back together, she wondered how could a human-skin enclosure could bleed so much and still affect the demoness underneath; in haste, Zelda had patched her up, wrapped a tight bandage around her chest, and sponged the dried blood off her skin before pulling the blanket up and light the fireplace in hope Lilith would stop shivering even in her unconscious state.
Zelda was scrubbing the blood off her hands right now. Unable to stop the stream of angry, frenzy tears that were still streaming down her cheeks, she kept rinsing her fingers under the scalding water, scratching at the underside of her nails, her eyes frantically turning over her shoulder to check if Lilith was still breathing.
Even now, she could smell the metallic tinge of blood in her nostrils. She could feel its warm thickness sticking to the palms of her hands.
She wasn’t cut out for that. It was Hilda, the caring one of the family, she the one to comfort the wounded and the desperate ones.
Zelda wasn’t sure she could handle death well. She'd realized she feared it long ago but made sure to forget it, masterfully concealed behind her mask of authority and hash solemnity - here she had no mask because she had no strength left in her to keep it on her face.
Only five minutes before, she’d sobbed, unable to stop, hysterically, as her thoughts wandered to her sister, panic rising in her when she noticed there were no phones in that damn house to warn her family about Witch Hunters and the possible turmoil that would’ve unleashed in Hell if she failed to keep the Queen alive.
But then she had gasped, an invisible grip knocking the wind out of her lungs: she couldn’t have her dead. No matter how hard she had to try, Zelda couldn’t let her die. Because she was her deity, she was the Queen of Hell, she had the knowledge that would possibly save them all, because… because it was Lilith and she simply could not die and leave Zelda there, all alone, to face the impossible.
There was so much blood.
If she thought of it right now, Zelda believed she could actually lose her mind.
Fastening the robe she’d stolen from Mary Wardwell's wardrobe because she couldn’t stand wearing her blood-soaked clothes anymore, she grabbed the glass filled with fresh water and cautiously lowered herself down on the carpet.
Lilith was laying still, head tilted to the side on the pillow, lips slightly ajar; her breaths had turned into weak wheezes as she rested, not yet roused once after hours. Her bare shoulders kept shaking and the stained bandages peeked out from the hem of the blanket as a wicked reminder of what had just happened.
She almost looked peaceful, and the thought sent a wave of dread right into her brain: the First Woman, Dawn of Doom, self-made demoness was a creature of chaos, and not once in her life she’d seen her at peace. Not even when she’d posed as Sabrina’s teacher, feging meekness and compassion, there was an aura of brutality around her, which was the same that Zelda had felt and found fetching about her. It was gone now, completely.
Zelda swallowed a strangled sob when she noticed that the sweat she’d wiped off her brow only minutes ago had come back more copious than before, perspiration resting like dew on every inch of her exposed skin, seeping through her damp tresses and mixing with the remains of dried blood.
Carefully, she tried to slither her hand under her head and support it while she brought the brim of the glass close to her lips. She didn’t want the demoness to get dehydrated after the amount of blood she’d lost, and that was only one of the things she was concerned about: starting from the unnatural pallor that teetered toward green, or the bluish hue of her lips - both painfully visible after she'd sponged away the make-up -, to the fact that her breath became shallower by the minute.
“Lilith?” She called softly, hoping that she would come back to her senses, now. She was proven unsuccessful. “Lilith, you have to drink something.” She tried again, tilting just slightly the glass so that the water would touch her lips.
No reaction. No reaction whatsoever. The only thing that she obtained was a new thread of blood coming out the corner of her mouth.
A wretched sob erupted from the depth of her chest and, feeling completely lost, she let desperation take over.
The glass flung into the fireplace and broke into pieces, the water sizzling on the log, evaporating instantly into white smoke while the fire roared and stabilized once again.
It wasn’t supposed to go like this.
Lowering Lilith back into the makeshift bed, feeling suddenly utterly spent, Zelda followed; with her forehead resting on the demoness’s chest, breaths fading into the blanket, the witch allowed herself to finally cry. Hot, copious, salty tears weighing on her lashes and spilling on the coarse fabric.
It wasn’t supposed to go like this because she was the one who was supposed to get stabbed and not the other way around.
Because while Lilith was valuable, Zelda was not. Zelda was replaceable, Lilith was indispensable. Lilith needed to survive this because Zelda could’ve never lived with the guilt of being the cause of her departure.
It wasn’t fair. If she hadn’t asked for the demoness’s aid, if she hadn’t acted so stubborn and hard to get all the time, if only she had been more careful, attentive, less caught up in her purposeless admiration, none of that would’ve happened.
Lilith got stabbed because of her. Lilith got distracted because Zelda had no powers, because she hadn’t been quick enough to acknowledge the danger, and now- now the demoness was the one walking on the thin line between life and death.
“ Please- ” She hiccupped, crumpling the blanket into her fist. She didn’t even know what she was begging for, but she didn’t want Lilith to die, plain and simple. Why? It didn’t matter. She couldn’t just go, not like that.
Zelda needed more time. Time to elaborate, time to find a solution, time to tell her, just in case, because nobody deserved to be born, live and die without knowing each beauty that there was to savor.
She was tired; exhausted, to be precise, and not only physically. Because now that she was so close to losing everything, her emotions seemed to scream inside her, and the ones she struggled to keep inside, hidden, the ones she tried to forget with very little success, were now even louder than the others.
“Lilith, please-” Before she knew, she was breathing hard into the blanket, her body quaking with her sobs. “You can’t-” Desperately, she nuzzled her face into the soft fabric, feeling incredibly helpless and exposed.
What if she died, then what? Zelda could pretend and denied all she wanted but if her hour had come, there was nothing she could ever try to stop it. And then she would be alone.
Alone in that house, mourning the goddess she betrayed all those years ago and, lately, she kept afar and felt the urge to despise. Alone in the world, to face the responsibilities of dozens of lives depending on her. Alone to face the unknown of a new Era where Lucifer had fallen again, this time rejected by his own subject, where magic disappeared and hope was lost.
Zelda was alone and only Lilith, the First Woman, once banned from her original home, could understand her fear. What if she went, then, what would become of her? Mortals, witches, nor even demons were created to remain alone.
She promised Lilith she wouldn’t leave her, but what about her? Lilith didn’t promise the same. She had to make that promise. Zelda needed to know, she needed to have the certainty that Lilith would stick around.
“You can’t leave.” She muffled another broken sob into the blanket, her hand fisting tighter at the fabric. “You can’t leave me.”
She couldn’t pretend anymore. She couldn’t feign hate when there was loyalty and respect, where there was genuine admiration and trust.
Since the first time she knocked at the manor and revealed herself, Zelda had seen right through her and found the inexplicable urge to belong to something: the infernal throne, Hell, the crown, those were her rights, but Lilith sought for something more. She wanted and needed people around her, people who could understand her.
With the Coven, with her , Lilith was stronger. She knew that; even when she had the Witch Hunter in her grasp, she kept referring to their collective victory over Lucifer, never just her own; like the throne of Hell just didn’t belong solely to her.
Zelda understood. Zelda sought power herself, but it all was meaningless without somebody to celebrate your victory with. Her family was great, but they didn’t understand. Lilith, on the other hand, did.
They were one and the same, and for that reason, they sought each other. Feigned hate, tolerance, but neither one of them could deny the captivation between them. At least, Zelda couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Lilith arrived into her life unexpectedly, but now that she was in, Zelda didn’t want her to let her go. She had been a fool, like always. History repeating itself: pride overcoming emotions and Zelda wasting valuable time in meaningless deeds, letting the important things slip through her fingers like grains of sand.
Zelda kept sobbing, unbothered by the tears streaming down her face freely now, and she barely registered the deeper breath that shook Lilith’s body beneath her.
Like a touch of a feather, she felt something weighing on her head, soft fingers winding through her hair.
“Zelda, you don’t have to cry.”
Slowly, she lifted her head from the demoness’s chest. Blinking away warm tears, she couldn’t suppress another sob when she saw Lilith’s hooded eyes peering down at her, the phantom of a smile blooming on her chapped lips.
“You’re awake.” She stated, her hand reaching instinctively up as she scooted closer, closely inspecting her face. Her palm felt cooler against the First Woman’s scalding cheek, but she was relieved that when her thumb wiped the sweat off her upper lip, it didn’t form back right away like before.
“For now.” The other replied tiredly.
“It’s not fair,” Zelda wiped her face angrily with her other hand, shaking her head slowly. “I- I thought I had time.” She should’ve been ashamed of looking so broken and hysterical in front of her Queen, but in reality, she didn’t care. She didn’t care one bit if Lilith was seeing her crying - and crying over her among all things: it was time for her to know. Because, if not now, then when?
“Time for what?” Lilith frowned, her body quaking with another coughing fit that Zelda tried to quench with soft shushings, her hand splayed reassuringly over her chest, pressing down on her wound in the hope to give her some relief.
“Why?” She inquired, her voice trembling. “It should’ve been me.” She stated, her jaw clenched as she tried to suppress the string of whimpers that threatened to escape her mouth. “You cannot die because of me.”
“I would happily die for you, Zelda.”
When the cold, limp hand, reached out to touch her cheek, the witch instinctively leaned into the touch, covering her hand with her own. She didn’t know if Lilith needed something to cling to, what she did know was that she herself needed something to cling to… but not just something, Lilith. And so she did, she clung to her hand, to her touch, to her very voice.
“I had to save you because you’re not replaceable.”
“There’s so much I need to tell you.” Zelda swallowed hard, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks, thick with unshared secrets about to be revealed.
“It will be alright.” Lilith croaked out, her voice dimming away. “Just- lay with me, for now? It’s getting cold.”
Zelda nodded against her hand. Carefully, she lowered herself down and did the unthinkable: she scooted closer and held Lilith; the same person she claimed to hate, the same she begged and prayed not to leave her alone right now.
“Lilith?” She breathed into her hair, her lips moving against the shivering skin of her neck. “Promise me the same. You owe me that.”
She felt her hand being grasped into a weak hold, pulled over the demoness’s chest, right over the subtle, uneven beating of her tired heart. She didn’t specify what the promise was about, but was it necessary?
“I promise.” She murmured, head tilting toward the witch. "I won't leave you alone."
Lilith was still smiling and Zelda, after watching her fall asleep, smiled too; because despite everything, she knew Lilith always kept her promises.
Notes:
There it is, hope you enjoyed the story! Please leave a comment to brighten my day 💖
Chapter 3: nothing to lose
Summary:
Bonus Chapter
Chapter Text
PART III - nothing to lose
Puncturing the corpse with an ice pick, Zelda winced at the nauseatingly sweet scent of decay. She’d shoved the tool into the second angel’s throat, the girl, and was gathering the thick liquid in an empty jar that she’d found in one of the cabinets. Her hands were getting soiled with the tacky substance, but she didn’t care, too busy begging for the blood to still be useful.
It was known that the blood of an angel had to be extracted from an alive subject, that it should’ve been consumed or put to use as soon as it was drawn, but that was the best option she had, and Zelda was already grateful for the shriveling cadaver - those bodies that the False God gifted to his warriors to walk the Earth were made to rot and disappear quickly in case of death - to have enough to fill the jar halfway.
She’d left Lilith sleeping. She’d tucked her in by the fire, cupped her face, and stared into her eyes, telling her to rest, that she would be back in no time.
Lilith had wrapped her fingers around her wrist so tightly that the witch knew it would bruise - and she was glad for it because it meant that she was getting her strength back, that she was keeping her promise, that she was feeling better.
The demoness smiled, nodded, and with a shallow exhale she laid her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, heavy with fatigue.
She didn’t want to leave. Zelda didn’t want to break her own promise, but she had no other choice: because Lilith was better indeed, but the healing process was taking too long, and she looked too weak.
Pandemonium and Hell aside, there were pressing matters that couldn’t be brushed off, starting from the lack of magic in the Coven, the appearance of those angelic witch hunters, and finishing with the fact that they had announced the arrival of a new enemy, that they called ‘the old ones’, to face.
They were doomed; without protection, without hope. They were in desperate need of a deity… no, not just a deity, they were in desperate need of Lilith as their one true Queen.
The trip to retrieve the angelic blood was necessary to speed up her recovery. Or, at least, it was worth a try.
Satisfied with the amount of dark blue liquid she’d gathered, Zelda closed the lid and watched, mesmerized, as the mortal body of that girl dried out beneath her eyes, dissolving into dust and leaving nothing but a faint imprint on the ground - a humanoid shape with wings protruding from the shoulders. It lasted a few seconds, then it, too, faded into nothing.
She clutched the jar to her chest protectively and moistened her chapped lips with the tip of her tongue. Standing up, she drew a shaky breath and thought about the road, the cottage, but she felt it within her that her magic was too weak, and her desire not powerful enough to boost her energies.
Zelda contemplated the idea of starting to run into the woods and get to her destination by foot, but then her mind filled with thoughts of Lilith and her desire to be by her side, keeping the promise, made something sizzled within her, something that tasted familiar, like magic. Forcing herself not to dwell on it too much, she clung to that desire and mouthed the words:
Lanuae Magicae
Zelda had never felt the rush in her veins of beaming from one place to another. For her, it was just a practical way of moving, a traveling occurrence with no peculiarities.
Apparently, that was the night for novelty: as she moved through time and space, her body undergoing the omnipotent fingers of the magic remained, Zelda felt a tingle spreading from the depths of her to her limbs. She wondered what it was since it certainly wasn’t the first time she teleported from one place to another, following her desire to be there, but then she realized that, perhaps, it was a more unique than a rare occurrence, for her, desiring to be reunited with a living being rather than be transported into an inanimate location.
She gasped at the thought, and her brain was flooded with questions that were not meant to be answered. She got distracted like any schoolgirl learning how to move through magic, and also due to the lack of strong magic running through her blood, she found herself stumbling on herself, dead leaves and crunchy twigs swallowing her feet up to her ankle.
Instinctively, she clutched the jar, lips pressed into a thin line of disappointment for the failure as she mouthed profanities under her breath, though there was no one that could hear her.
Sighing, she made peace with her current inability and began to trudge toward the cottage which, luckily, was not far from where she landed.
She was happy to have made it - she was happy to be able to go back to the cottage and occupy the rightful spot she claimed by their Queen’s side and try out the solution she’d found while watching over a sleeping Lilith, who seemed so peaceful even in her agony.
Before she knew, Zelda found herself rushing toward the door, gaze locked to the faint orange hue coming from the window, the light coming from the mantle unstable against the opaque glass.
Without many ceremonies, she pushed the door open and let herself in, her eyes immediately searching the place - the log was not consumed, the air was nice and warm, the glass of water on the coffee table empty, which meant that Lilith drank from it, the blanket draped across the lump of the demoness’ body, still laying on the red-stained carpet in a fortress of pillows.
Zelda smiled, her heart easing at the sight, for some mysterious reason she did not want to investigate.
“Lilith, I’ve got it.” She announced, excitement leaking from her voice even though she was whispering, lest startling the brunette if she was soundly resting as she should have.
In haste, without even looking, Zelda toed off her shoes and strode toward the Queen, falling onto her knees and sitting on her haunches.
“I’ve got the blood,” She said, putting the jar on the coffee table and grabbing the wet towel to clean her hands off the goop from the angel’s cadaver, “I think it’s usable, it’s worth a try, and-”
Her voice trailed off when she noticed the sheen of perspiration on her forehead.
Some dark locks of hair were stuck to her face, her throat, her cheeks were flushed and shallow, erratic pants were escaping her parted lips. The muscles of her neck were twitching unevenly, and there were running droplets of sweat trailing down the exposed chest, her arms, soaking through the white bandages that poked out the blanket.
Lilith was writhing, her fingers grasping desperately at the coarse fabric, hooded eyes moving in rapid movements, incredibly alive for a woman who was startling unconscious.
Zelda stared at her, almost transfixed, wondering how was it possible for the situation to worsen in so little time, but then again, she’d just witnessed an angel’s mortal body disappear within moments, and Lilith - wedged inside a mortal body or not - was still one of the False God’s creation, afflicted by His wrath because of her chosen demoniac nature, cursed for her rebellious spirit, but still on of His creatures.
Perhaps she had been bound to have a relapse and her healing had only been an illusion, the quiet before the final and fatal storm.
Now more than ever, that little fortuitous trip into the woods to retrieve the dark blood could be their only hope to save her.
Blinking herself awake from her state of puzzlement, she leaned down on the demoness and cupped her face, gasping at the searing hotness that met the palms of her hands.
“No, no, no! Lilith-” She called, shaking her gently, “look at me.” She ordered, her voice losing all authority in its unsteadiness. She gulped down a dry throat when the Queen of Hell emitted a lament, struggling to open her bleary eyes, so dilated that the blue was almost completely gone.
“You’re burning up.” She said. It wasn’t a question, and even if it came out more like an accusation, Zelda was shaking with fear and anger toward herself: how could she let this happen? She tried her best but, as always, her best wasn’t enough.
“Lilith, please, I-” She swallowed a whimper, angrily wiping her eyes on her sleeve, and closed her hands into tight fists to lessen the quiver.
Forcing herself to breathe deeply, she reached out the jar and unscrewed the lid, dipping two fingers into the tacky liquid until her pads were coated with it - it was still warm, somehow, and it didn’t smell of iron, nor copper, like any other blood.
Zelda fought the gag reflex when the mawkish smell entered her nostrils, deciding to hold her breath when she rested her soiled fingers on Lilith’s mouth, gently smearing the divine substance on her bottom lip.
She genuinely begged for it to taste better than it smelled, or for Lilith, at least, to have a different reaction, and she must've had contrasting feelings about the blood, because she moved, and Zelda watched carefully when the tip of her tongue poked from the narrow crack of her lips, licking the thick substance clean from her mouth.
She released a shuddering breath, feeling her heart return to pump in relief when she saw movement in her throat as she swallowed.
“Lilith, drink this.” The younger witch offered, but it came out more like a plea.
She slid her other hand under her neck, fingers entangling within the damp mane of hair, and gently helped Lilith lift her head off the pillows so she could swallow easily. She grabbed the jar, leaving black imprints of her fingers on the outer glass, and brought it to Lilith’s waiting lips, tilting the jar so that the blood would pour in her mouth, a small, controlled stream to leave her time to assimilate it properly.
“Please-” She swallowed, not really sure what she was begging for, nor who. Clenching her jaw hard, she tried her best not to let some frustrated tears escape her lashes.
Zelda watched the First Woman gulp the angelic blood until only a light glaze remained stubbornly tacked on the inside of the jar and discarded it without looking.
Unblinking, unbreathing, she counted, she waited, and only when she saw Lilith take a deep breath, her chest expanding slowly under the blanket, she allowed herself to sigh in relief, her whole body, suddenly spent, collapsing forward, her forehead resting atop of the demoness’ blanket clad chest.
Lilith didn’t seem to mind or notice, and the redhead just stayed there for a moment, breathing hard against the coarse fabric, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, strong enough to lift her too and mimic her own breathing.
With that relaxing motion, however, she also felt the heat radiating from the body beneath hers.
The angelic blood - given that it would work in the first place - would’ve taken a while to kick in; three hours perhaps, or six, or thirteen, or perhaps even three days, Zelda couldn’t be sure. It was always a lottery, and in the meanwhile, in the absence of other magical remedies within arms’ reach, she would have to do with the mortal once that, she remembered, had been just as much efficacious when Sabrina was little; just like with the blood, it couldn’t hurt anyway - she had to try.
Slowly, she lifted herself from Lilith’s chest and peered down at her face: she was still sweaty, but her wheezing had reduced considerably, and, at last, she found herself smiling helplessly when the demoness, perhaps alarmed by the loss of the foreign weight on her chest, opened her eyes and the bleariness in them was gone.
Zelda let out a wet sob, and rested an ice-cold hand on her face, hiding behind her own palm. She rubbed her forehead, pinched her nose, and sniffled hard, her whole body shaking as she collected her thoughts: Lilith was conscious, at least, perhaps the blood was already working, perhaps that relapse was just the way her body was trying to fight the poison and the bleeding.
Zelda leaned down, thumb stroking the demoness’ cheekbone to draw her attention. She bit hard the inside of her cheek when she watched the faintest shadow of a smile blooming on Lilith’s parted lips, and slipped her other hand under her neck, carefully lifting her head up - she felt heavy in her palm, and Zelda tried her best not to give anything away, but most of all, tried her best not to cry.
“Lilith,” She wheezed, “Lilith, do you think you can walk?” It was a question, yes, but a negative answer was not contemplated. To be honest, rather than a question, it was another prayer, a plea for the demoness to gather enough strength to get up and walk, for as impossible and difficult and exhausting it might’ve sounded because it was vital for her to do it. “I need to bring your temperature down.”
Lilith took a small intake of air to talk, but no intelligible sound came from her mouth. After a few attempts that had Zelda’s heart shrink with dread, she saw her bobbing her head up and down.
Sighing in relief, the witch hastily pulled the blanket off her body, her eyes raking over her shivering form, clad only in perspiration, half-soiled bandages, and the underwear she’d decided to leave on when she discarder the ruined dress before leaving to venture in the wood, if only to preserve Lilith’s modesty, not that Zelda ever thought she needed such attention.
With no little difficulty, she managed to pull the limp body of Lilith into a sitting position, and quickly grabbed her arm to throw it over her shoulder, offering her own neck to support her dangling head.
Zelda didn’t exactly know how she managed to stand up, dragging Lilith with her, everything was hazy, her brain solely focused on the next step as they moved around under the redhead’s guidance in the unfamiliar environment, her only goal to reach the bathroom she’d already looted when she was in desperate need of something to stop the bleeding that threatened the Queen’s life.
Zelda wasn’t used to carrying weights, she wasn’t fond of manual labor, and yet, as she practically carried most of Lilith’s weight on herself, she wasn’t tired, nor annoyed. She grabbed hard on the slender wrist of the demoness to secure her hold, terrified of dropping her, while her other girded around her bare waist, the skin hot under hers, helping her walk, encouraging her to take just another step, just one more.
Once she got there, she let her eyes roam around the room and decided to ignore the mess she’d left behind only a couple of hours prior when she’d rummaged through poor Mary Wardwell’s house. Carefully, she made Lilith perch on the edge of the empty bathtub and cupped her face, helplessly smiling through her teary eyes when the demoness blinked at her confusion.
“We’re almost done, Lilith.” She murmured, and her heart leaped when the other one nodded, though slowly and tiredly, but at least showing some receptiveness.
Helping her lift her legs over the edge of the tub, Zelda did her best to guide Lilith to lower her body into it, a hiss coming from her mouth when her unnaturally heated skin came in contact with the chill surface of the china.
Swallowing, she put the plug and turned both the taps on, trying to regulate the temperature of the water to a mild warmth which however tended toward coldness.
Clear water started to pool at the demoness’ feet, and when it reached her waist, Lilith started to squirm in discomfort, both hands flaring up to grip at the edges.
“It’s alright.” Instinctively, Zelda covered her closest hand with her own, gently rubbing her tense wrist and arm, shushing at her like she would do to a baby while the water kept rising, engulfing her body in its cool grasp, the muscles in the demoness’ body spasming and contracting at the painful contrast. “It’ll pass soon.”
Soon enough, Lilith relaxed. Whether it was because her body was growing accustomed to the different temperature of the water or because it was too tired to fight it, it didn’t really matter.
Zelda shut the water and blindly tugged at another towel from its racks. She dipped it into the tub and started to rub it on Lilith’s arms and on her neck, minding not to touch the bandages just yet. Her eyes never tore off the demoness’ face, watching every twitch of her lips, every slight movement of her lashes as they fluttered close, listening to the shallow breathing coming from her mouth, feeble, but somewhat regular.
Relieved at her apparent calmness, Zelda made sure the bandages were soaked through before reaching for the pair of scissors to cut through them, gently peeling them off her body and freeing her skin. The redhead winced in sympathy when Lilith whimpered, and carefully wiped the clotted blood from around the stitches which, luckily, seemed to have completely worked in stopping the bleeding, as for the one on her chest, so for the twin one on her back.
As the clear water turned into a faint pink, Zelda imposed herself not to look at Lilith’s naked form, yet she failed. Not only that flesh suit she was wearing made her an exceptionally beautiful woman even then, but it made her even more human under the witch’s gaze: not the monster with green complexion and skulls in her eyes, but a woman, needing care, vulnerable and exposed and desperate and lonely… just like her.
The witch moved on the back of the tub and pulled out Lilith’s hair, lets getting completely wet, letting the tresses hang over the edge; the demoness was in desperate need of a complete bath, but the witch couldn’t have her stay with wet hair throughout the night, so Zelda simply grabbed the closest brush and started to untangle the curly locks, pieces of leaves and dirt shedding on the floor.
When she was satisfied, she wrung out the towel and ran it across Lilith’s face, making sure to barely moisten her lips and forehead before discarding the cloth. Eager to know if that cold bath was working, Zelda rested her much cooler hand on the demoness forehead, and then shifted lower, on the temple, her fingers wrapping naturally on the back of her neck - yes, she was hot, but it was definitely better.
Zelda smiled, letting out a wet sigh, but nothing could prepare her when Lilith squirmed gently and, in a twilight sleep, she leaned completely into her palm, as if to seek further contact.
Her heart skipped a beat at the thought that either of them might know a lot of tenderness in their lives, and it was surprising, at least, to realize that only a desperate circumstance had finally brought two souls together that were so similar already. Lilith has always been the one they had always needed, the one she had always needed, and it took an almost fatal event to open her eyes… Was it possible that it was also the other way around? That Zelda was the one Lilith had always needed? Was it really so absurd?
Sure, she had to make sure Lilith survived before wondering all that.
Pressing her lips together, she stroked her cheek, tracing the sharp bone with her thumb to pull Lilith out of her state of drowsiness. And forced herself to smile, hiding the turmoil in her chest once again when she was greeted by the piercing blue eyes, bright with fever.
“Come on, you’re getting all pruny.” Zelda murmured, reaching blindly between her feet to pull the plug off.
When the water had drained almost completely, she gently maneuvered the demoness's arm to rest over her shoulder once again. “I’ll take you to bed.”
“Lilith, I need you to stay up on your own for a moment.”
Squeezing her slacking shoulders in her firm grasp, Zelda helped her find some balance. They’d managed to reach the bed, and they were both sitting on it, the witch perched on the edge, the demoness swaying on the mattress, heavy-lidded eyes, and short breath for the effort of leaving the bathtub and walking to another room. She had a moment of rest while Zelda dried her skin with a large towel, her body completely sagging on top of the redhead while she tried her best to get rid of the excess of water without dropping her nor leaving her exposed to the coldness more than necessary.
“I feel dizzy.” Lilith slurred, and the other barely caught her wincing before her body trembled with a weak coughing fit that had her hiss in pain, the sudden, involuntary jerks of her shoulder causing her skin to pull at the wounds.
The demoness swayed even more, her muscles giving in as she surrendered to tiredness and hurt, surely eager to simply lay down, but Zelda held her firmly against her, hoping with all her might that the fever wouldn’t raise again.
“Just a minute,” she begged, pushing on her shoulders again, “Lilith, please, while a bind you up- please .” She swallowed, quickly grabbing the new bandages when the demoness exhaled slowly, detaching from Zelda.
She was struggling to stay upright, she moaned and whimpered whenever she tightened the wraps around her arms to protect the wounds and when she was done, Zelda barely managed to catch her before she could fall backward, gently guiding her limp body down until her head and shoulders touched the stack of pillows propped against the headboard.
Zelda took a few deep breaths, pressing the back of her hand to her nose and lips, her gaze stubbornly glued to the other’s face.
“Are you in pain?” She asked, waiting for an answer that she most likely knew already.
“No.” Lilith croaked out.
The witch knew she was lying, but chose not to argue with the statement, glad that the demoness had been able to utter something intelligible.
Releasing a sigh of relief, she leaned over to switch on the light on the nightstand and rearranged her legs, bending them beneath herself and leaning against the bedpost, across from Lilith.
She’d stripped her completely and draped the quilt over her legs - again, preserving the long gone modesty of the demoness - leaving her wrapped chest bare and uncovered to prevent the fever to rise up once more for the excessive warmth, but far too soon she noticed that Lilith was shivering.
Hooded eyes twitching under the dim light of the lamp, she had her face turned to it, as if to soak up that minimum source of heat available.
“Cold?” She whispered, but the demoness simply pressed her cheek into the pillow, without saying anything. “Lilith, are you cold?”
A small huff; Zelda watched her swallow, then cracked an eye open.
“Yes.” She admitted, her face an unreadable mask.
Without commenting on her stubbornness even under those circumstances - was it really that hard to ask for help, for her? But then again Zelda should’ve known, since she was the first doing the same - and carefully crawled on the bed, the soft mattress dipping under her knees and hands as she approached; lowering herself by Lilith’s side and throwing an arm around her waist, she scooted as closer as she could get, hoping to provide some comfort and warmth with her own body.
“Better?” She asked, cheeks growing hotter by the second.
The last time she held Lilith, the demoness had requested it, this time it had been her own initiative. Before leaving for the angel’s blood quest, they had both enjoyed that closeness, it wasn’t different right now: Lilith’s breath grew heavier, her body as well as she relaxed in the half embrace, and Zelda, from her party, found herself looking at her face as she dozed off, glad for her higher position that granted a complete visual, and rested her temple against the headboard.
She’d been through this already, thought that everything was going to be alright while she held Lilith, and she had had a relapse. What told her it wouldn’t happen again? Despite the blood, despite the bath, it was all uncertain and frightful.
Hardly suffocating a whimper, she felt hot tears streaming down her cheeks once again. She wasn’t really sure why she was crying, but she felt relieved that Lilith had drunk the blood without feeling worse; she was happy that after the bath, although a mortal method, had successfully brought her temperature down and made her feel better; she was feeling a fuzzy, different warm feeling at the thought of holding the Queen of Hell while she slept; and she was also terrified that all her effort were going to be vain.
What was the point of knowing that Lilith would have happily died for her if, in the end, she would have died for real? It would be just another wasted chance, faded into nothing because of pride and fear.
No, Lilith couldn’t die. She couldn’t leave her alone in that world that had only cruelty and harshness and sorrow ahead for her. Lilith was the only one who could truly understand it, even though she’d refused to acknowledge it for too long.
Perhaps both busy surviving, minding their business, quenching their more than legit thirst of power; too busy hating each other to realize how much they needed each other, one to claim the throne, the other a prestigious role in the Coven.
And yet, right now, there wasn’t a Queen, nor a High Priestess. Stripped of their titles, of their privileges, they were both walking the Earth and facing Death like any other creature.
Zelda knew she was not invincible, of course, that despite the gifts bestowed on her kind was bound to wither and disappear, but she’d never thought the same faith for a creature like Lillith: now, just like everyone else, she was facing the most challenging of trials and, the worst part, was that she wasn’t even sure if Lilith was willing to fight, merely holding on because Zelda was trying so much. Lilith has been ready to die for her, and now she was trying to survive simply because Zelda had asked her to, but she had also accepted her destiny... if dying was lined up for her.
That was the one thing Zelda wasn’t willing to accept herself.
Zelda looked down at her, her heart swelling and clenching at the same time for something totally unknown.
Painfully vulnerable, beautifully human. She might’ve been the First Woman, a monster, the Queen of Hell, but right now she was simply a person, a woman, fighting for her own life just like everyone else.
More tears gathered at the corner of her eyes, spilling down her chin without the witch bothering to wipe them away, and a few of them even seeped into Lilith’s hair, seemingly unnoticed.
Zelda woke up to a featherlike touch to her cheek. She frowned, hating herself for having fallen asleep without even noticing, and drew a sharp intake of breath, eyes narrowed as she took the surrounding in. The lamp was still on, the small alarm on the nightstand read almost five in the morning, which meant that she’d fallen asleep for nearly three hours.
Three hours in which Lilith had slept within her hold, obviously doing her good and granting some strength back since Zelda found herself looking into the familiar blue eyes, the slender hand of the demoness touching her face, thumb stroking across the trails of dried out tears on her cheek.
Lilith looked calm, she was silent, and the tenderness of the gesture made Zelda’s heart leap inside her chest.
“Lilith?” She murmured, a shadow of a smile appearing on her lips. She quickly grabbed her hand, fingers wrapping around the slender wrist to keep her near her own cheek without getting her tired. Fingers intertwined with hers to check the naturally heated skin, thumb pressing carefully on the thin web of veins to feel her pulse - slightly labored, but strong and even. “How do you feel?”
“Better. Stronger.” Lilith nodded, shifting against the stack of pillows to find a more comfortable position. She huffed and locked her gaze with Zelda’s, smiling. “You should really stop crying, Zelda. You’ve been sobbing in your sleep for hours.”
She did that often, waking up to a soaked pillow almost every morning. It had gotten worse after Sabrina’s teenage rebellion that had made her feel unfit as a parent - or a tutor -, after the Blackwood affair, after the fall of a lifetime’s beliefs, after she was untrusted with the futures of dozens of people that had lost everything. Everyone always expected something from her, demanding guidance... the truth was that she often wondered who might’ve minded her, for once.
“Did I wake you?” She winced, apologetically.
Lilith weakly shook her head, easing her hand out of the witch’s gentle grasp. She turned her head over and kept gazing at Zelda.
“I need to ask you something,” the demoness wheezed, “and I need you to be honest with me.”
Zelda swallowed through a dry throat. Shifting slightly so she could better look at her, she nodded, her hand covering her own when Lilith rested in on her lap.
“You can ask me anything.”
“Why wouldn’t you accept it?” The demoness frowned, blinking rapidly. “My death, why wouldn’t you accept it? You’re strong, your niece is capable even though she’s still young, you would have found a solution.”
Zelda exhaled, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips.
“Because it wasn’t right.” She simply replied. “It wasn’t right, and it wouldn’t have been the same. Not without you.”
There was a moment of perfect stillness between them. Lilith was staring at her, clear puzzlement written on her face, and Zelda was staring back at her, waiting for a reply that, perhaps, would’ve never come. Did she make the implication clear enough? Did Lilith know what she meant?
“You despised me.” The demoness stated, no room for question.
Zelda couldn’t help but smile at that: the First Woman, Dawn of Doom, Mother of Demons, now Queen of Hell, and other pretty titles that she didn’t really care to enlist, only resembled an innocent child at the moment, not really able to grasp the tangled mess of biases and sentiments.
“I did.” The witch confirmed. “But did anyone tell you that hatred is a sincere form of admiration?”
Lilith blinked at her, not completely convinced.
“That’s twisted.” She commented.
“You haven’t walked the Earth long enough, Lilith.” Zelda murmured, unconsciously drawing spirals on the back of her hand with her thumb. “We’re witch women, we’re entitled to be complicated and twisted.”
“You didn’t really answer my question, though.”
The redhead nodded. Taking a small breath, she closed her eyes for a moment, as if temporarily escaping Lilith’s demanding gaze was what she needed to gather the needed courage to just open her heart - it was time, after all, there was nothing more to be afraid of.
“Because we’re similar. I couldn’t accept that you’d die without knowing what it feels like to be part of something, to be important, to belong, to have others caring, to be loved.” She sighed. “If there wasn’t hope for you, how could it ever be hope for me? All those millennia and you’ve never known happiness.”
“So that was you being selfish?” Lilith inquired, but there was no bite in her voice. “I’m not judging. I’ve spent my whole life trying to survive, self-preservation is key.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Zelda rebuked promptly, almost as if she was expecting such a response from a demoness who had never known anything else in her whole existence. Quite frankly, the witch couldn’t even blame her. “That was me realizing that I’ve finally found someone who shares my experiences.”
Lilith seemed to consider, white teeth pricking at her bottom lip.
“Although life has been cruel with you and you’re not to blame for your misfortune, I made my own fate the day I fled the Garden.” She paused. “You said I’ve never known happiness, that I’ve never had someone who cared for me, but you’re wrong, because I was loved, once.”
Zelda tensed at that, refusing to let her think that any of the things that happened to her was her fault - she had been right to refuse her first husband, she had been right to seek for another place for herself that gave her more opportunities; what had happened next was no less a misfortune than Zelda’s own life.
“What you and Lucifer had was not love.” She said dryly.
“I’m not talking about the Dark Lord.”
“Oh.” That was… unexpected. Fool of her to think that over the millennia she’d never had another, never sought someone better.
“Mary Wardwell had a man. A kind man.”
She took a moment to think, then. It was recent. It was a fresh wound. Zelda’s stomach turned just to think about the punishments she surely had to endure for her betrayal. But still, it didn’t change her point.
“Did he know who you were?” She wondered with a small voice. “Knew your story? Or your true face? Did he know your dreams and hopes?”
“No.”
“As I said, you’ve never known love.”
Lilith paused, her gaze wandering around the room for a moment, perhaps remembering the place that had been the stage for another charade that, for a while, she thought was what others called ‘true love’.
“But if I survive this, I might?”
“You will survive it.” Zelda replied, her voice low but firm, both of her hands reaching up to cup her face, green boring into blue as if to make sure the demoness understood and truly believed those words. “And you will know love, it’s a promise for you as much it is for me.”
Lilith swallowed a cough, her face scrunched up in a tired wince before her mouth curved into what resembled a smirk.
“Is that an attempt to courting, Ms. Spellman?”
Zelda was glad to see some of the old smugness back, so she couldn’t do anything else but return the comment with a broken smile.
“If you weren’t so insufferable, I would have done it sooner.”
“Why is it always my fault?” She quipped, reaching up with her own hand, fingers deftly wrapping around Zelda’s wrist, anchoring herself there. “I never thought this day would come: I have to be grateful for the creation of the False God because those Hunters of Him gave us the chance to drop our masks.”
Zelda nodded slowly, struggling to ward off new tears which, however, carried a completely different set of emotions. She got lost in the soothing circles Lilith’s thumb was drawing on her skin.
“I, for one, was already grateful,” She murmured, “He created you, after all.”
They peered in each other’s eyes for a long time, seemingly unable to move, or not willing to, afraid that they might ruin a sort of invisible and unsummoned spell that had been cast upon them.
Daring to draw a shaky breath, Lilith swallowed, biting the inside of her cheek.
“So, what now?” She wondered, barely above a whisper.
Zelda shrugged and imperceptibly scooted closer.
“Perhaps,” she said, “we could try that union between Hell and Earth you talked about early tonight.” It was her turn to breathe and her teeth went to prick her bottom lip. “But not just between realms, I suppose.”
Her heart skipped a beat when Lilith nodded, a faint smile blooming on her mouth. It was shy, uncertain, and yet her eyes were bright as ever, eager, even.
“We’ve got nothing to lose, right?”
“No.” Zelda confirmed, leaning into her, their faces so close that their breaths mingled, for a moment. “But everything to gain.”
Without tearing her eyes off of the demoness’s, she carefully brought her face even closer and, ready to catch any sign of rejection or reconsiderations, she touched her lips with her own.
It was merely a brush at first, a ghostly touch to taste the waters, and she let Lilith initiate the proper kiss, their mouths moving together in tandem, no more hesitant, but savoring the shared victory of overcoming Death.
They got lost in each other for a long moment, that was, until a sparkle of magic sizzled between their lips, an unforeseen jolt of electricity that forced them to part.
“What was that?” Zelda inquired, alarmed, pressing her fingertips to the seam of her mouth, where Lilith’s taste lingered, alongside with a tingling sensation that she did not recognize.
“Magic.” Lilith replied with a smile.
Zelda released a sigh. Was it the angelic blood granting the Queen of Hell her rightful powers? Was the witch being mistaken for a vessel for the stolen magic? Was the mysterious deity that had bestowed Lilith her magic at the beginning of days accepting their union and was blessing them with a new source of energy?
Zelda didn’t know, neither did she care.
Not now, at least. What mattered for the moment was that Lilith was safe, the rest would’ve been delayed for further discussions during more suitable times.
Pressing her forehead to Lilith’s she peered into those blue eyes and, for the first time perhaps, she felt right.
“It’ll be alright, then?”
The demoness nodded, slender fingers digging into copper hair as she kept her there.
“With you? I know it will.”
Notes:
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