elowynsoup

[elowynsoup]

AO3: Paarthedox - Unveiling Venus - Chapter 23 -Scene 2-

Sylvia stood in the hallway, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her lips pressed into a thin line as she called out to Aisha. “Aisha!” she called, her voice heavy with impatience. "Come out here, now! I'm waiting for you!"

Aisha paused just outside the kitchen, clearly reluctant to enter. The air was thick with tension, but she didn’t budge. “I’m not in the mood to deal with her,” Aisha muttered under her breath, as she stood firm, eyes glancing back to much more worried ones.

Then, Duncan walked into the kitchens with an annoyed look. “Sylvia’s looking for you. She’s getting upset,” he added with a slight grumble, his tone barely masking his annoyance at Aisha’s discomfort. Aisha didn’t take kindly to Duncan’s interference, but she glared at him and stepped forward.

Duncan rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Just go. She won’t wait forever.” He left without another word, leaving Aisha to face the inevitable.

Aisha’s footsteps echoed through the hall as she approached Sylvia, who was already waiting with an expression of feigned concern, her eyes narrowing when she saw Aisha's attire. “Oh, Aisha,” Sylvia said with a fake sigh, almost exaggerated in her tone. “How you’ve let yourself go. This is completely unacceptable. You’ve been running around like some lowly servant with that dress. You’re a lady, not some common kitchen hand.”

Aisha, though irritated, wasn’t intimidated by Sylvia’s constant stream of criticism. Instead, she decided to turn the tables, responding with a quiet, pointed jest. “Oh, Sylvia, you’re really one to talk about appearances. I’d be careful with those dresses if I were you—someone might mistake you for the person who tried poisoning us.” Her voice was light, but the words landed heavily.

Sylvia froze for a brief moment, a flicker of shock passing over her face before she composed herself, quickly shifting back into her role of the victim. “What are you talking about?” she said, her voice soft with faux innocence, though the subtle tightening of her smile betrayed her. “You know I would never—”

Aisha didn’t let her finish. “I’m sure,” Aisha interrupted, her eyes sharp. “But I won’t allow you to play any more games with Aida and Aiyla’s food. Make sure it’s clean, and make sure you don’t play any of your usual tricks.” She stepped forward, her gaze unwavering, as she continued, “If anything happens to their meals, I’ll make sure everyone knows what you’ve been up to.”

Sylvia’s face softened, and she let out a small, almost fragile-sounding sigh, the hint of tears in her eyes. “I’m only trying to help, Aisha,” she said, her voice now taking on a tone of victimhood. “You don’t know how hard things have been for me, for all of us. I’m just doing what I can, for the family. I’ve been trying to make sure everything runs smoothly, and you just keep thinking the worst of me.” She lowered her head, her shoulders slumping as though burdened by the weight of an invisible hardship.

Aisha’s expression remained unchanged. Sylvia’s little act was transparent to her. She wasn’t buying it—not for a second.

“I’m not buying your act, Sylvia,” Aisha said flatly. “I know what you’re really capable of.” She gave a small, knowing smile, her words blunt and direct. “But don't worry. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.” her face hardening with the weight of the truth, she finally spoke. Her voice was low, but the words came with certainty and a biting edge. "You poisoned him," she said, her gaze unwavering as she locked eyes with Sylvia from across the room.

Sylvia’s expression faltered for just a moment, a flicker of shock passing over her face. She quickly masked it with a forced smile, but Aisha caught the shift. "What are you talking about?" Sylvia’s voice came out too calm, too controlled. "I loved Gwen. I would never—"

"Don't lie," Aisha interrupted, her tone sharp. "I know how he got so sick. You fed him those damned herbs, just like you tried with us. I saw the way you played with his health, just like you're trying to play with ours." Sylvia's eyes widened, but only for a second before she quickly regained her composure, her hands smoothing over her dress. She tilted her chin up, the mask of innocence slipping easily into place. "You're mistaken, Aisha," she said softly, but the lie was heavy in her words. "I loved Gwen with all my heart. He was my husband. I did everything I could for him. You must be confused."

Aisha’s face twisted in disgust at the audacity of the woman standing before her. "You're not fooling anyone, Sylvia," she spat. "You think you can just pretend like nothing happened, but I know what you did. You killed him." Sylvia took a step back, her eyes darting to the door as though searching for an escape. But there was nowhere to run. The truth hung in the air like a thick fog, and Aisha wasn’t letting her hide from it. "I didn’t poison him," Sylvia said again, this time her voice shaking slightly. "Gwen… Gwen was already sick. He was weak long before—"

"No," Aisha interjected firmly, taking a step toward her. "You poisoned him. You wanted him gone. You wanted everything for yourself. You thought his death would give you the power to control everything. But it didn’t work. And it never will."

Sylvia opened her mouth to respond, but the words failed her. Instead, she looked around, her fingers fidgeting with the edges of her sleeves. Aisha watched her carefully, every inch of Sylvia’s unease confirming the truth Aisha had known all along. Sylvia was a master manipulator, but she was no match for Aisha’s clarity and resolve.

"You can keep lying all you want, Sylvia," Aisha said coldly. "But I know what you did."

. . .

Sylvia’s eyes flickered with a flash of anger, but she quickly masked it with a tight smile. "You’ll regret this, Aisha," she said through gritted teeth, her voice low and venomous. "You’ll all regret questioning me." For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension thick between them. Aisha could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but she didn’t look away from Sylvia. She wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. Sylvia had shown her true colors, and now it was time to face the consequences.

Finally, Sylvia turned away, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor as she stalked toward the door. "We’ll see," she said over her shoulder, her voice dripping with a false sense of calm. "We’ll see." Sylvia’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she quickly masked it with another sigh, her head tilting slightly to the side in a falsely gracious manner. “Well, you’re welcome, Aisha. I’m just doing what’s best for the family, that’s all.”

She stepped back, her tone softer now, giving the impression of resignation as she added, “You should be grateful. I’m trying to help.” Aisha didn't respond to Sylvia’s latest words. She simply turned on her heel, giving Sylvia no more than a casual glance over her shoulder. “I’ll make sure Aida and Aiyla’s food is properly handled,” she said, her voice light. “You don’t need to worry about it.” And with that, she turns and walks off with Duncan following in pursuit.

[elowynsoup]

AO3: Paarthedox - Unveiling Venus - Chapter 23 -Scene1-

They walked in silence, their steps muted against the thick rug that lined the wooden floors. The closer they got to the window, the more her nerves prickled, but Nemo remained unbothered. When they finally reached it, he gave her a brief glance before carefully shaking her off and stepping forward. Aiyla watched as he fiddled with the small latch holding the window shut, his fingers nimble as he worked against the stubborn metal. A second later, with a sharp, protesting creak, the window yawned open, and a gust of freezing air slammed into them like an unforgiving wave. Aiyla immediately recoiled, pulling her arms tightly around herself with a shiver.

“Ugh—Nemo!” she whined, her voice bordering on petulant as the cold bit at her skin. “Couldn’t you have warned me first?” She shot him a glare, though it held little bite.

He barely spared her an apologetic look, instead chuckling under his breath. “You complain too much,” he mused, leaning casually against the window frame. “You’d think you’d never felt cold before.”

“I haven't—at least, not like this,” she retorted, teeth chattering slightly. “Unlike you, I don’t spend every second of the day outside with a brush glued to my fingers. You practically live in the open air. I swear, you’d probably paint through a blizzard if you could.”

At that, Nemo grinned, but it was faint—just the slightest twitch at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe,” he admitted, shifting his attention downward. Aiyla followed his gaze to the ground below, where a pile of hay still remained, waiting for them like an unspoken invitation. Nemo nodded toward it before motioning her closer.

Aiyla let out a long sigh, a puff of breath curling in the cold air, before she hobbled toward him. “This is stupid,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. Still, she obeyed, despite the prickling nerves in her chest, despite the deep-set discomfort lacing her bones. She positioned herself carefully at the edge, feeling the sharp bite of the wind against her cheeks, and cast him a wary glance. “You better not let me break something.”

“You’ll be fine,” Nemo assured, though there was a sliver of amusement in his voice. With a careful hand, he helped her shift her weight, and after a lingering moment of hesitation, she took the plunge.

The fall was not graceful.

Aiyla landed hard, her body colliding with the hay in an uncoordinated sprawl. But it wasn’t the rough impact that had her gasping—it was the searing pain that erupted from her ankle the moment it hit the ground. A white-hot agony flared through her leg, sharp and unforgiving, sinking its teeth deep into the bone. She sucked in a ragged breath, her hands fisting into the hay as she bit back a strangled noise of pain.

Above her, she heard the quick shuffle of movement before Nemo followed suit, landing far more elegantly than she had. It took him only a second to notice her curled position, the way she clutched at her leg with a strained expression. He was beside her in an instant, hovering, his usual nervous energy returning with full force.

“Aiyla?” His voice was quiet, uncertain. He didn’t quite touch her, but he was close enough that she could feel his concern radiating off of him in waves.

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to take a slow breath through the pain. “I’m fine,” she ground out, though her ankle throbbed viciously in protest. “Just… give me a second.”

He hesitated, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t press. Instead, he lingered, offering her a moment to gather herself before they continued onward.

Nemo’s expression shifted the moment Aiyla winced, his usual quiet apprehension sharpening into something more urgent. He knelt beside her, his eyes flickering between her face and the obvious swelling beneath the delicate lace of her gown, the leather of her boot stretched uncomfortably tight against it. His fingers hesitated just above her ankle as if debating whether or not to touch, but he pulled back with a frustrated sigh, clearly torn between his worry and his natural inclination to keep his distance.

“You shouldn’t be walking on this,” he murmured, voice tinged with unease. “It looks—really bad, Aiyla.” She shifted away slightly, not in rejection but in stubbornness, as if moving from his concern would somehow ease it. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, though the sharp pulse of pain disagreed. Nemo didn’t seem convinced. He reached forward, his grip uncertain yet firm as he caught her wrist and held her back before she could attempt to climb off the hay mound alone. His fingers, warm against the cold seeping into her skin, tightened ever so slightly.

“You shouldn’t—just let me help, alright?” he stammered, struggling for confidence as he eased her weight against him. Aiyla swallowed her pride and let him guide her down, his hands awkward but careful as they steadied her footing. He exhaled sharply once she was on solid ground, and though he didn’t say it, she could tell by the way he adjusted his waistcoat that he was nervous—perhaps more than before. His gaze flickered toward the large, closed door just ahead of them, the door that led into her mother’s bedroom, untouched for years.

Aiyla’s stomach twisted the second she realized where they were. A lump formed in her throat, a tension that crawled up her spine and wrapped around her lungs, making it suddenly difficult to breathe. The candlelight flickered along the door’s edges, the brass handle dull with age but still so familiar it sent a shiver down her arms. She wasn’t ready—she hadn’t been ready the last time she stood before it, and time had done little to soften the fear that gripped her now.

Nemo must have sensed it. His eyes darted back to her before he reached out again, hesitant but deliberate, his fingers curling briefly around her wrist in silent reassurance. The warmth of his touch grounded her, stifling the panic beginning to bubble in her stomach. She hated how easily fear crept up on her, how the memories of this place could still control her after all these years.

“Are you alright?” Nemo asked softly. It wasn’t just a question—it was an offering, a way out if she wanted it. But Aiyla knew she couldn’t turn away. Not now. She forced herself to nod, even as her hands trembled at her sides.

“Let’s just—get this over with,” she muttered, straightening despite the ache in her ankle. Nemo hesitated for a moment longer, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod before reaching for the door handle. The metal was cold beneath his fingers, and as it creaked open, the weight of the past seeped into the air around them, thick and suffocating.

[elowynsoup]

Hebe - Fruitful Binding

[elowynsoup]

AO3: Paarthedox - circling thoughts scene - FRUITFUL BINDING

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62547289/chapters/160087774#workskin

Hebe sighed deeply, her breath escaping in a puff that hung momentarily in the cool air of her chamber before dissipating. She nestled deeper into her plush velvet bed, its rich fabric contrasting with the soft, pale skin of her arms.

Yet despite the comfort, an unsettling sound began to invade her serene space—the distant cawing of Artemis' ravens, their cries sharp and persistent. They pierced through the calm of night, each caw reverberating in her mind like a harbinger of something amiss.

Confusion bubbled up within her as the cawing continued, relentless and foreboding. With a heavy heart and a gaze filled with resolve, she slowly lifted herself from the cocoon of blankets that enveloped her like a protective shroud. The silk curtains draping around her bed were soft to the touch, whispering secrets as she parted them. She moved them aside just enough to peer out through the opening, her heart thumping against her ribcage in anticipation.

Through the soft gloom of twilight, she glimpsed a figure soaring gracefully overhead—Apollo, her brother, gliding like an arrow across the night sky. His presence brought a flicker of warmth to her chest, as her fondness for him surged forth. Yet the joy was short-lived, overshadowed by the cacophony of the ravens still caressing her ears, stirring an unsettling worry deep within her.

"Is Artemis well?" The thought crashed into her consciousness unbidden, thick with anxiety. There was something disconcerting about the frantic nature of the birds, a warning in their cries that made her heart race faster. She could feel a tightening in her chest as the prospect of danger loomed at the edges of her mind. Despite her concerns, she knew she could not venture from her chamber—the rules were clear, shadows of her impending duties weighing on her heart. The guards outside her door served as both protectors and prisons, but even pondering their presence failed to ease her unease.

As she lingered in that moment, her thoughts turned once more to the arranged marriage that awaited her. Just days away, it loomed large and intimidating, swirling emotions inside her like a tempest. An unsettling mixture of excitement and trepidation danced in her chest. "Should I really be worrying?" she questioned herself, though she could not shake the doubts that clung to her like mist. Even with the vague contours of what lay ahead etched in her mind, the weight of it all felt like a great stone pressing upon her spirit.

Memories of what she had learned from Aphrodite washed over her—the grandeur of the wedding ceremony, the significance of the tokens shared. Yet, even those gentle reassurances could not quell her sense of foreboding. This day, rich with traditions and expectations, felt like a whirlwind that threatened to consume her whole.

Laying back against her soft pillow, she allowed the thin silk curtain to fall back into place, encasing her in the quiet of her chamber. She turned onto her side and began to chew the inside of her cheek, a habit formed from uncertainty, reflecting the turmoil swirling within her. The atmosphere felt stifling, the air thick with unresolved questions and unsteady emotions. The cawing of the ravens persisted outside, a chaotic soundtrack to her introspection, yet she knew she had to find some semblance of peace amidst the brimming chaos in her heart.

Breath by steady breath, she concentrated on the sound of her own heart, attempting to drown out the birds’ cries. Gradually, like the lifting of a fog, her breaths became steady and rhythmic, each inhale soothing the turbulence within. A gentle calm began to envelop her as she nestled deeper into the blankets, seeking solace in the familiar embrace of her bed.

Before she knew it, the edges of her consciousness blurred together, and sleep began to wrap around her like a tender embrace, drawing her away from the anxiety that weighed heavily on her heart. The cawing of the ravens faded into the distance, replaced by the gentle lullaby of her breathing, soft and steady.

In the sanctuary of sleep, Hebe found her escape, unburdened by the weight of expectation and fear. Here, in this dreamscape, she was undefined by titles or roles—simply herself, a being unafraid, allowed to drift freely among the stars like Apollo in the night sky.