and death shall have no
DOMINION
Lightning split the night-black sky, flashing crashing jolts of electricity that cut through the dark just long enough to remind her the dark stretched on forever. Thunder rolled through her, shaking her bones and setting her teeth to chattering. Rain poured down, drumming on her skin and pasting her long, tangled mane to her neck. Cold rain, running down her body in rivulets, mocking little caresses that echoed the feel of his lips on her shoulders, her spine, her hips, her sides. She bared her teeth at the vicious rain, snarling as the wind whispered her name with his voice, breathy, aching, wanting. Dom. It ripped through her, tearing her open until she screamed, wordless agony lost in the roar of thunder as she fell to the ground.
Her sides heaved, spotted skin stretching as her ribcage expanded and contracted, fighting to draw breath even though the world was ending. Again. It had been so long, she’d almost forgotten the world was always only ever ending. Stupid, stupid girl, letting roses grow and climb and crack through all the lessons learned in a youth spent doing nothing but surviving. Forgetting the roses die and leave behind only thorns that catch in flesh and cut and tear, piercing through hide and leaving blood running down skin and mingling with rain, just another sacrifice to the ever-ravenous earth.
He was already dead when she found him, his neck twisted at a grotesque angle, empty eyes the same rich, dark brown as her father’s staring blankly into the sky. Her heart, her breath, her Benedict. She’d laughed when he told her his name meant blessing, but he was exactly that. A blessing from his own benevolent gods, sent to welcome her into a world unlike anything she’d ever known. Safe. Vibrant. Filled with the kind of peace she had never even dreamed of. He’d won her jaded heart with a grin that dared the whole world to just try not to join in, the carefree charm of a heart unbroken by endless tragedy, and the sparks that danced along her skin every time he brushed against her. God, how she’d wanted the life he’d offered her, love, happiness, a home where she wouldn’t have to fight every day to keep herself and her loved ones alive. Four years not fighting every moment just to survive. And he'd been there every step of the way, coaxing her deeper and deeper into complacency. So stupid, to forget. But the world had reminded her, stealing him away with no warning, no lingering feeling of foreboding, just fucking gone. Her Ben. And their babies.
God, her babies.
Ragnar, tall and strong and steady as the drummer blood that ran strong in him, sleek liquid black like his father with even the same lopsided star on his forehead that made her heart melt into a puddle and coaxed a silly grin onto her face every time she brushed her lips against it. He didn’t have the fire of his namesake, the desperate hunger for life she’d seen in her baby brother’s eyes as he fought to live in a world that didn’t want him. Her son was the quiet, solid presence of the mountains, and those cruel bastards had taken him back. She’d found him not far from his father amidst the ruin of their home, and had known him by the shape of his legs, the growing-boy scent of his skin that was part hers and part Ben’s and part something uniquely his own. She didn’t see her Ragnar’s brown eyes empty. The mountains had taken his face, crushing him beneath rocks shook loose by the quaking of the hungry earth. No brush of lips against lopsided white, no kiss goodbye for her very first baby boy. He was just…gone.
Maybe she should thank those fucking mountains for taking him quickly. He didn’t suffer. Neither of her boys suffered, their breath stolen away between one moment and the next. But her Aya. Oh god, her Aya. Her tiny dancer, still so small. Only a few months old, all gangly legs and awkward grace and bright green eyes shining out of a tiny, spotted face like her momma’s. Dom hadn’t recognized the cries at first, drowned out by the screams of the few of her friends unlucky enough to have only been mortally wounded by falling rocks instead of mercifully slaughtered or swallowed by the damn earth. Her little girl had never screamed like that before, had never even felt more pain than a bump or a bruise or hurt feelings. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to forget the sound of her daughter’s screams.
Her body knew before she did. It wasn’t until she saw her Aya’s face, saw the incomprehensible agony in innocent green eyes, saw the rock crushing her back legs that she understood. Her tiny dancer would never dance again. No matter how she struggled, no matter how she flailed and clawed at the ground with her front legs, she was already lost. “Hurts, Momma,” she’d pleaded, eyes dull with pain. So Dom had made the hurting stop. And she’d watched and sobbed as the light faded from those shining green eyes forever.
When her throat was raw from hours of singing her Aya’s favorite lullaby, its melody transformed from soothing to desolate by the weight of her grief, when her little girl’s body was cold and her tears had run dry, when the sky had clouded over and taken up the mantle of her grief, heavy drops of rain falling from dark grey stormclouds, Dom finally stopped rocking her baby to sleep and forced herself to her feet. The dying screams of familiar faces had faded without her help. She had given all the mercy she had in her broken heart to her baby girl. The others were gone. Dead, gone, all of them gone. And she was not.
And death shall have no Dominion.
It had never felt like a curse before. A vow, a prayer, a mantra she chanted in her head to keep going when she had nothing left. Never a curse. But now, those words rang through her head with every heavy step, her hooves beating the earth like a drum, pounding out a slow steady rhythm as the rain fell down, washing away the past just like the cold, bitter sea had done so long ago, another lifetime left in the dirt. Friends, family, home, four short years wiped out in an instant.
Dom walked aimlessly, growing colder with each step, grief seeping through her skin, down down down into her bones. She couldn't stay, couldn't watch the vultures and the wolves and the wildcats devour everyone she loved. So she left them behind, walking until she couldn't walk another step. She didn’t notice the familiar silhouette of the willow tree, didn’t realize she was walking back to the lake she’d called home for a few short months while her body had recovered from starvation and her soul had recovered from the loss of her people. She didn’t see the place someone she used to know had given her as her own, not until the lightning flashed again and hit the tree in front of her, scorching the trunk and sending one of the two sprawling branches crashing to the earth beside her as thunder shook the world again.
Even then, Dom only looked up, blinked grief-dulled green eyes at the fallen limb, and collapsed against the trunk of the tree, her body remembering the spot that fit her just right. She stared out at the water through a curtain of long, weeping branches lashing in the wind and lowered her head to the ground. It was only right that the whole world should mourn. Even the trees and the sky and the lake. She closed her eyes, ignoring the pain of wounds caused by the earthquake and the falling rocks, and willed the lightning to strike again. To fucking dare. And death shall have no Dominion.
Her sides heaved, spotted skin stretching as her ribcage expanded and contracted, fighting to draw breath even though the world was ending. Again. It had been so long, she’d almost forgotten the world was always only ever ending. Stupid, stupid girl, letting roses grow and climb and crack through all the lessons learned in a youth spent doing nothing but surviving. Forgetting the roses die and leave behind only thorns that catch in flesh and cut and tear, piercing through hide and leaving blood running down skin and mingling with rain, just another sacrifice to the ever-ravenous earth.
He was already dead when she found him, his neck twisted at a grotesque angle, empty eyes the same rich, dark brown as her father’s staring blankly into the sky. Her heart, her breath, her Benedict. She’d laughed when he told her his name meant blessing, but he was exactly that. A blessing from his own benevolent gods, sent to welcome her into a world unlike anything she’d ever known. Safe. Vibrant. Filled with the kind of peace she had never even dreamed of. He’d won her jaded heart with a grin that dared the whole world to just try not to join in, the carefree charm of a heart unbroken by endless tragedy, and the sparks that danced along her skin every time he brushed against her. God, how she’d wanted the life he’d offered her, love, happiness, a home where she wouldn’t have to fight every day to keep herself and her loved ones alive. Four years not fighting every moment just to survive. And he'd been there every step of the way, coaxing her deeper and deeper into complacency. So stupid, to forget. But the world had reminded her, stealing him away with no warning, no lingering feeling of foreboding, just fucking gone. Her Ben. And their babies.
God, her babies.
Ragnar, tall and strong and steady as the drummer blood that ran strong in him, sleek liquid black like his father with even the same lopsided star on his forehead that made her heart melt into a puddle and coaxed a silly grin onto her face every time she brushed her lips against it. He didn’t have the fire of his namesake, the desperate hunger for life she’d seen in her baby brother’s eyes as he fought to live in a world that didn’t want him. Her son was the quiet, solid presence of the mountains, and those cruel bastards had taken him back. She’d found him not far from his father amidst the ruin of their home, and had known him by the shape of his legs, the growing-boy scent of his skin that was part hers and part Ben’s and part something uniquely his own. She didn’t see her Ragnar’s brown eyes empty. The mountains had taken his face, crushing him beneath rocks shook loose by the quaking of the hungry earth. No brush of lips against lopsided white, no kiss goodbye for her very first baby boy. He was just…gone.
Maybe she should thank those fucking mountains for taking him quickly. He didn’t suffer. Neither of her boys suffered, their breath stolen away between one moment and the next. But her Aya. Oh god, her Aya. Her tiny dancer, still so small. Only a few months old, all gangly legs and awkward grace and bright green eyes shining out of a tiny, spotted face like her momma’s. Dom hadn’t recognized the cries at first, drowned out by the screams of the few of her friends unlucky enough to have only been mortally wounded by falling rocks instead of mercifully slaughtered or swallowed by the damn earth. Her little girl had never screamed like that before, had never even felt more pain than a bump or a bruise or hurt feelings. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to forget the sound of her daughter’s screams.
Her body knew before she did. It wasn’t until she saw her Aya’s face, saw the incomprehensible agony in innocent green eyes, saw the rock crushing her back legs that she understood. Her tiny dancer would never dance again. No matter how she struggled, no matter how she flailed and clawed at the ground with her front legs, she was already lost. “Hurts, Momma,” she’d pleaded, eyes dull with pain. So Dom had made the hurting stop. And she’d watched and sobbed as the light faded from those shining green eyes forever.
When her throat was raw from hours of singing her Aya’s favorite lullaby, its melody transformed from soothing to desolate by the weight of her grief, when her little girl’s body was cold and her tears had run dry, when the sky had clouded over and taken up the mantle of her grief, heavy drops of rain falling from dark grey stormclouds, Dom finally stopped rocking her baby to sleep and forced herself to her feet. The dying screams of familiar faces had faded without her help. She had given all the mercy she had in her broken heart to her baby girl. The others were gone. Dead, gone, all of them gone. And she was not.
And death shall have no Dominion.
It had never felt like a curse before. A vow, a prayer, a mantra she chanted in her head to keep going when she had nothing left. Never a curse. But now, those words rang through her head with every heavy step, her hooves beating the earth like a drum, pounding out a slow steady rhythm as the rain fell down, washing away the past just like the cold, bitter sea had done so long ago, another lifetime left in the dirt. Friends, family, home, four short years wiped out in an instant.
Dom walked aimlessly, growing colder with each step, grief seeping through her skin, down down down into her bones. She couldn't stay, couldn't watch the vultures and the wolves and the wildcats devour everyone she loved. So she left them behind, walking until she couldn't walk another step. She didn’t notice the familiar silhouette of the willow tree, didn’t realize she was walking back to the lake she’d called home for a few short months while her body had recovered from starvation and her soul had recovered from the loss of her people. She didn’t see the place someone she used to know had given her as her own, not until the lightning flashed again and hit the tree in front of her, scorching the trunk and sending one of the two sprawling branches crashing to the earth beside her as thunder shook the world again.
Even then, Dom only looked up, blinked grief-dulled green eyes at the fallen limb, and collapsed against the trunk of the tree, her body remembering the spot that fit her just right. She stared out at the water through a curtain of long, weeping branches lashing in the wind and lowered her head to the ground. It was only right that the whole world should mourn. Even the trees and the sky and the lake. She closed her eyes, ignoring the pain of wounds caused by the earthquake and the falling rocks, and willed the lightning to strike again. To fucking dare. And death shall have no Dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
