Chapter Text
Her ears are ringing. She doesn’t quite know what happened except that she was face down on the floor of the family manor. A sharp sting lances through her right cheek. She gasps and her hand finds her face on instinct, registers how raw her skin feels. Tears well unbidden to her eyes and she looks up in disbelief at her mother.
What she sees is anything but. She sees a monster wearing the face of a woman. A young Lillian Luthor’s usually calm visage is twisted into one of ugly contempt. She radiates cold fury. Lena’s never felt so terrified in her life.
“Mum?” Lena hears herself ask, voice catching.
“You are no daughter of mine,” Lillian responds. Before Lena can say anything in response, to ask her mother what she’d done wrong, she sees Lillian pull out her wand and flick it in her direction before feeling herself launched forcefully into the cupboard behind her. Her back hits the wall with an audible smack, knocking the air out of her lungs. The door slams shut and she is plunged into darkness.
She doesn’t know how long she screams and pounds on the door. She’s crying for someone, anyone, to let her out. But the room seems to be a vacuum of senses from the outside. She can’t see or hear anything through the door and the oppressive void has driven her into hysterics. She tried everything – from ramming the door to attempting to will the door open, but her tiny frame and limited mastery of magic meant that her attempts yield nothing but an aching arm and a sore throat.
Exhaustion threatens to pull her under. She fights it because she is not weak but soon feels herself slipping-
The door opens and light bursts into her vision. The silhouette of a boy comes into view and she catches a glimpse of gold and the deepest piercing blue before she feels herself pitch forward, and the world goes dark.
-
Her vision changes. She’s sixteen and in her room in Beauxbatons, sat on her bed with her back against the headboard. Occupying the desk chair before her with an imperious tenor that obfuscates the chair from throne, is Lillian Luthor.
“Are you clear on what you have to do, dear?”
“If you’re asking whether I'm confident I’ll succeed, Mother, rest assured. I’ve done all the necessary preparations.”
“Ah, but that’s not what I’m worried about. You’ve always been… softer.” Lena clenches her jaw. “Your brother is counting on you. You don’t want to let him down again, do you, darling?” Lillian challenges, voice saccharine.
“I will do whatever it takes to save him.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Lillian’s smile is sickly sweet. “After all, you are a Luthor.”
-
Lena jolts awake in bed. She’s covered in sweat and she’s warm, too warm, under the duvet. She sits up and kicks it off, swinging her legs to the side. Outside her window, an inky expanse of water stretches across the earth. Clouds envelop the night sky save a lone star that scant illuminates the world. At the edge of the water, spires from an ancient institution loom beyond the shroud.
We’re almost there. She sighs. There isn't much point in trying to get more sleep.
With a slight tremble, Lena rises and readies herself for what's to come.