Chapter Text
Fear.
It was a feeling Lilith had grown accustomed to, one she had learned to manage and even leverage for motivation — and yet she had hoped it would dissipate somewhat in the aftermath of recent events. Not so. It seemed that things would never be easy for her.
She had wanted this throne, yearned for it, for so long, and yet she never imagined her ascension would require the entrapment of the fallen angel she had once loved so dearly. How painful it had been, the realization that he had never intended for her to rule by his side. The betrayal, the... humiliation. And the sudden freedom from his control — as mortifying as it was exhilarating. But here she was, alive, in control, Queen.
For now.
Not many mortal days had elapsed since the coup and thus she found herself in a period of adjustment, longer than she liked. Of mourning, which she had not anticipated, which snuck up on her in the strangest times. Maddening, the idea that she still cared for him — and even worse in her weakest moments, when she visited his prison and found herself daring to consider, impossibly, freeing him. Fortunately, each time the poisonous memories flooded back quickly enough to return her to her own mind, outweighing a troubling, primal need she could not shake — a need for the security of having someone else in control, the anchor of someone to please.
Of course, she was not the only weak link in the equation. No, the witches — specifically her former master’s half-witch daughter, whom she was, for the moment at least, no longer keen to kill — would not remain content to abandon Nicholas, poor Nicholas who had willingly, with a clear mind despite his guilty conscience, given his life for the greater good. But knowing Sabrina, there was little chance that things would be left alone.
And given Sabrina’s recent displays of great power, things could easily get... messy.
She told herself that was what brought her to the mortuary the night of the new moon — the fear of losing her throne, coupled with a desire to avert what was perhaps inevitable chaos. It wasn’t wholly false; after all, she had plenty to deal with in hell without earthly beings meddling. Yet it wasn’t the full truth. Not when Zelda was involved.
She was High Priestess, now. A title self-proclaimed until Lilith had given her seal of approval, an act the demon queen had treated as perfectly ordinary and inconsequential (after all, she lacked alternatives). But the truth was that Zelda had managed to capture and hold her interest. Her eagerness to serve, irritatingly present before — and all too similar to Lilith’s own — had mellowed, perhaps shattered by what had transpired with Lucifer, and by the trauma suffered at the hands of that vile, pathetic excuse for a warlock. An uncertain leadership had filled the void, a leadership fueled by Zelda’s determination to protect and empower the coven. For that, Lilith was grateful.
But they did not yet trust each other.
Certainly Zelda wanted to believe again, to believe in something, someone, after what had happened. And it was clear she had a certain... interest in Lilith, an interest that Lilith in her more honest moments acknowledged was mutual, though still required considerable unraveling. But while Zelda was beginning to find an anchor in Lilith and her newly founded Church, former misdeeds were not easily forgotten.
For her part, Lilith typically cared little for trust — but logic told her again and again that she could not maintain her position and hard-fought power alone. It was impossible to walk this path without allies, without a partner. The truth was, she needed Zelda. She needed her on her side, needed to be able to rely on her. Oh, how she disliked the feeling, the vulnerability of it. But if it was here to stay, it was high time it became mutual.
She appeared in the mortuary without warning that night, sketch of a plan in her mind as she assumed the familiar form of Mary Wardwell. Despite spending so much time in the woman’s body, she always found herself disoriented and unbalanced in the first moments of assumption, caught by something akin to claustrophobia as she adjusted to the sharp restriction of her senses, the odd feeling as she moved the woman’s limbs, stiff but surprisingly flexible.
Once adjusted, Lilith found a somewhat cruel enjoyment in surprising the witches by the simple act of appearing without a summons. Tonight she caught the sisters in the kitchen after a late meal, Hilda chattering away whilst washing the evening’s dishes, Zelda smoking a cigarette over a stack of documents, ignoring her sister entirely.
The hell queen leaned against the doorframe, observing the witches silently for a moment before making her presence known. When she finally spoke, she delighted in the way Zelda’s head snapped up, at the splash in the sink as a startled Hilda dropped a plate into soapy water.
“I do hope I’m not interrupting anything...” she started — empty, self-satisfied words said solely to fill the stunned silence.
Zelda was out of her seat before Lilith finished, scrape of her chair’s wood against the floor sharp and unpleasant. “What’s wrong?”
Lilith walked toward the table, holding Zelda’s eyes for a beat before glancing toward Hilda. Both witches were holding their breath. “Must there always be something wrong for me to visit?” Lilith asked, feigning innocence until Zelda’s tense swallow forced her hand. “I’m afraid we do need to talk. It’s about Sabrina.”
“Sabrina?” The sisters asked simultaneously, Hilda’s voice a good deal higher than Zelda’s, their eyes connecting in concern.
“And Nicholas,” Lilith added, running her fingers along the back of the chair typically reserved for Sabrina. She looked pointedly at Zelda, hoping to find understanding in the high priestess’ eyes. But Zelda was unreadable, and Lilith found herself studying her face, her jawline, thoughts drifting despite the circumstances.
Perhaps Zelda noticed the queen’s wandering eyes, or perhaps she was preoccupied by the many unknowns suddenly thrust upon her. Either way, there was a pause as she cleared her throat before responding, “What have you done with her?”
There. There was the lack of trust. Not that Lilith could much blame her, given their history. “Nothing has been done,” Lilith said pointedly, only softening her voice slightly as she added, “Not yet.”
“Do say what you mean,” Zelda responded, a flash of something — regret? — crossing her face as the words left her mouth.
Lilith raised an eyebrow, appreciating the honest response. “I’m afraid Sabrina seems to be... plotting something that would unleash the very chaos we came together to avert. Now, it is not my own—"
“She wouldn’t.”
It was Hilda’s voice this time, a whisper of disbelief that drew both Zelda’s and Lilith’s eyes.
“I’m afraid she would,” Lilith responded, tilting her head with a wry smile, sighing. “The boy has quite the draw, it seems.”
The High Priestess looked at her then, a piercing stare that sent a tingle down Lilith’s spine as she met her eyes. “We will speak to Sabrina,” Zelda responded with authority, struggling to contain panicked fury.
Lilith pursed her lips for a moment, stepping closer to the kitchen table and visually tracing its edge, feigning deep thought to buy herself precious seconds with which she scrambled to form the appropriate response. When she looked up she met Hilda’s eyes first. “You know Sabrina better than anyone,” she said slowly, finally glancing at Zelda so as to gauge her reaction. “I do not mean to encroach on your territory, but I’m afraid this plan may already be in motion. I'd like to keep my eye on this house for a while, if you would grant me that privilege.”
Zelda held her eyes, nostrils flaring just slightly as she considered the request. Lilith offered the slightest smile, hoping the witch was pleased by her effort to obtain consent.
“How,” Zelda responded finally, more of a statement than a question. Suddenly she seemed to remember the dwindling cigarette in her hand, reaching to stub it out.
“Fire,” Lilith said matter-of-factly, motioning to the candles burning on the table and window sill. It was then that her eyes caught a shadow on the wall, a shadow in the shape of Lucifer’s beastly form. In the space of a second she swallowed a gasp of panic, heart in her throat as she turned toward the origin, nearly sighing with relief when she found the source: a hideous yet innocent antique statue. Calm down, calm down... Masking the rush of relieved adrenaline with a fake smile, she added, “My window to this world, it seems.”
Zelda narrowed her eyes, as if reading her racing thoughts. But then Hilda mumbled something, something Lilith did not catch but Zelda seemed to, the witch turning to her sister and silencing her with a glare. Lilith watched them, waiting. “Well?”
Zelda took a breath, one hand moving to her hip, dominant. “And how long have you been watching us through the flames?”
“I haven’t.” The words came immediately, the urge to defend herself superseding a witty response. Quickly she regrouped, swallowing and studying Zelda’s delicate features. “Things are... different now. I will not without your permission.”
And there it was, finally, the shift in Zelda’s expression Lilith so desperately wanted — Zelda believed her. Swallowing against the urge to celebrate, Lilith simply allowed herself a deep breath as she awaited the response she knew she had earned.
“If you will agree not to hurt Sabrina, you have it,” Zelda said evenly, eyes flitting to Hilda for a split second, long enough to see her sister nod. Then, to Lilith-- “What you spoke of must not occur.”
“It is agreed, then. Thank you,” Lilith almost purred the words, utterly pleased with herself. “Should you need me, simply light a candle and speak my name.”
The sisters nodded, Hilda’s nod much more eager than Zelda’s almost imperceptible gesture, more a pursing of the lips and shifting of the eyes than a nod of agreement. Unable to read the reaction, Lilith scanned the room until she found an unlit candle, igniting the wick with a wave of her hand and stepping carefully around the table to face the witch. This close, she could see everything Zelda was usually so good at keeping hidden, including glimmers of desire in the witch’s eyes. Oh... Lilith's own desire was not to be trusted, not yet. But to command Zelda’s attention this way... oh, how she relished it.
“Until then,” Lilith murmured, eyes locked on Zelda’s lips as she handed over the candle, reluctantly breaking her gaze as she turned toward the hall.
Zelda my darling, this is only the beginning...