Netta felt as though her world had turned black. She staggered back, only coming to her senses when she felt the too familiar grasp of her older sister's hand as it wrapped over her lower arm.

When she tried to jerk away, Sia wrapped her other arm, tight over Netta's wind pipe. Netta struggled, tried to knock her older sister away from her. All it got her was a tighter hold on her, for a moment rendering unable to do anything but gasp, desperate, for air.

The world came back to Netta as she watched Hera walk up to both of her daughters. She had a look on her face that, for a moment, reminded Netta of a similar look she had once been able to give.

Before she had taken some of Ash's features for her own.

"My darling, sweet daughter - you think that if you kill me that you can stop the great mechanism that was set in place so very, very long ago." Her voice dropped, as did her smile. "Your King knows well how long ago this has been in the making. Its anger, the dying Earth we are all forced to share -" she sighed. "ingredients that would invariably catch fire. You cannot demonize me simply for being opportunistic and resourceful enough to be the one who stands to benefit from the coming frost and the spring to come after."

Netta gasped for air, tried, desperately, to struggle free as her vision began to grow black. Her older sister was always much stronger than her, and now Netta could understand why. She slipped into unconsciousness with barely a whimper.

Hera made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat and, almost as an afterthought, said, "Go to sleep, little fool. When you awaken, it will be between the sharp teeth of your own King."

She was made to be strong, but not strong enough, ever, to hope to rebel. A thrall, a host body to a God -

Netta was not fully conscious as she flopped to the ground, once her sister's grasp had weakened on her. As she slumped to the ground, she felt, for a moment, the beginning touches of sleep.

No. No, not like - not like this -

Ash's voice was like a dragon's blast of fire, seeming to fill Netta with an almost alien will. RISE NEITH, RISE AND BECOME MY HERALD.

Netta heard it all around her, the screaming sounding like a nightmare chorus. She could not find the energy to stir, but felt herself rising from the ground. She managed to rouse her head in time to find that she did indeed seem to be rising -

Like Lazarus, a phoenix -

Or a long-dead King, come to take revenge on those who have challenged him.

Netta felt her arms extending. When she looked down, she discovered that the Witches, two bound and two standing, staring at her. Fear and fascination seemed to be etched into all of their features.

As though they're witnessing the mushroom cloud of a great explosion.

A creature that she knew intimately - enemy, friend, lover, mate, parasite, liege - used her vocal chords to speak. Its voice corroded hers, transforming hers into a rasping growl. "BOW YOUR HEADS TO ME AND I WILL NOT MAKE YOUR TORMENT LEGENDARY."

Hera stepped forward, the expression on her face turned wondrous. "My great King, allow me to apologize to you. I did not think that you would have need of the possession of so - ill fitting a form. Please, would it make you more amiable, to be able to assume a form of your own choosing?"

She did not wait for an answer, simply rose her hand aloft.

In the next moment, Netta felt as she was falling, then felt as something - two rather large somethings - caught her. The feeling of being caught seemed to rouse her, as she felt, simultaneously, what felt like the darkness that had possessed her leaving.

It was as though she was startled awake from a nightmare that felt as though it were covered in layers of gossamer. Netta gasped, twisting, looked up in time to see the face of a great Monster. Its contorted face for a moment stalled her from recognizing it as belonging to her husband.

"A-Ash -"

He looked terrible. It was as though a rage had once, long ago, transformed him into a beast, his face contorted, with heavy, sharp teeth bared. But, oh, how was it possible that as she gazed at the most flawed version of him that Netta was certain that she had never felt as in love with him as she did, then?

And then the ancient King spoke, cradling his most treasured disciple in his arms as he stood, nude. "You think to mock me? I am finished with your talking, I'll only listen to your screaming."

Hera's smile faded slightly, but she seemed to be no less amused by what she was seeing, her eyes seeming to twinkle.

Hera spoke after a moment, as though she had carefully collected her thoughts. "My King, do you think that I mean to mistreat you? That could be the only reason to account for your attitude towards me. I would never clip your antlers," she seemed to find this funny, and gave a tiny, delicate snicker. "I would only ask that you think of your people, think of them and what you can do to improve not just the lot of my kind, but yours."

Ash had been quiet, but Netta could feel his body, tensing with her words. When Ash spoke, his arms wrapping tighter around Netta, pressing her to him, as though he meant to absorb her. "How could you ever hope to entertain the thought that somehow you would have anything of worth to offer me?"

Hera's smile broadened. "But, dear King, you're holding my offering right now."

She already knew, somehow, what Hera was about to say, but hearing the woman say it - admit to it in this manner - felt like the ultimate betrayal.

He spoke, raising Netta so that her face was pressed to the hollow at his throat before he let her slide back so that she could turn to gaze at her mother. "Netta is not some sacrificial offering. She is my chosen wife." The way that the Monster bit that last word out, Netta could feel the emotion in it. How, if even for a moment, the beating heat of his anger was lifted by some softer emotion, almost like a hush.

Hera seemed to think this over for a moment, then tapped her forehead. "Mmm. I see. You've already decided to become permanently trussed to this one? Even if she was just meant to be some means of baiting your power, fanning it to its greatest flames?" When Ash was silent for some time, Hera continued, her voice unchanging from the almost good humor in it. "If you're going to make me blunt, then I can be. I want you to come to me, willingly, and denounce her."

Ash's grip crushed Netta for a moment, before he felt her momentary pain and relented. Ash hissed, his voice sounding as though it just barely retained some measure of humanity in it. "Never."

"Ah, did you enjoy watching Netta forget you ever existed? Or how about her crawling to my every command? I figured that that last bit must have been particularly poignant - I would imagine that she's misused her power with you, on more than one occasion -"

Netta spoke then, angry, unspeakably so, at her Mother. "No."

Hera blinked, surprised by Netta's interest in the conversation. "No?" She did not speak to Netta. She gazed at Ash as though she was sharing in some secret joke that only they could understand.

Ash's anger was black, as though an eclipse had fallen over everything that brought light to the world.

Apparently the look on his face said more than enough. Hera turned, looked at a wary, frightened Sia before she looked back at Ash. She looked as though she was at a loss for what to say next. Finally, Hera said, the smile disappearing from her face, "Drop her."

The first sign that something was wrong came when she felt terror seize Ash. He seemed to shake, then Netta felt his arms simply move from under her, jolting to his sides.

She fell to the floor with, as fear crawled through her mind, writhing. As Netta struggled to regain her footing, standing to stare, in horror, at her mother, Hera spoke. "Come to me."

Ash's voice emerged from his throat, sounding as though it was strangled from out of him. "What is this -"

In spite of the panic that began to claw its way through his mind, Netta felt as he started to walk, pushing past her as though she did not exist.

Netta barely managed to move away from him before he could shove her. She looked over, helpless, as the love of her life walked, as though possessed by an alien will, to her mother. She could feel Ash's rage, his impotent, blind fear. Heart breaking was the realization that he seemed to have fallen into the same trap he once did, so very long ago.

Netta, helpless, extended her hand to him, and spoke without realizing it. "Ash, no - Mother, please -"

Hera ignored her. With a quick, deft movement of her hand, Hera pulled the cord keeping her robe on her. She stood out of the robe as it pooled around her. Netta wished she hadn't taken in the sight of her mother's pale, eternally youthful body. She was like a slyph, every portion of her skin toned, tight.

And Ash's mind seemed to be screaming in protest in unison with Netta's, his disgust and horror at what he was witnessing building. Shared among them was the knowledge of how this would mean, somehow, Ash's imprisonment to Hera.

And Hera means to - she will -

As if in answer to the horror show that had taken over Netta's mind, Hera spoke, her voice light, her arms extended as though she meant to embrace Ash like a lover. "Come here, come to your true mate. With our joining, I will bring a new era for both of our kinds. Together, we shall watch the world - the Human world - burn."

Ash seemed to be trying to vocalize an emotion that felt caught, stuck, between raw fear, anguish and a rage that twisted, burned. He sounded like a great, demented beast that was being tortured. He walked forward in an unnatural march, every muscle tensed, stiff.

Netta watched as it happened, frozen as though she had been turned to stone.

Hera smiled at Ash as he came closer, her voice taking on a huskiness that made Netta's skin crawl. "Come to me, come to me aroused. Come to me, ready to ravish me on our altar."

Ash choked, then cried out, "No!"

Still, Ash came to her, grabbing Hera, throwing her onto the stone altar. As he leaped on after her, Netta wanted to close her eyes. She sensed his fear and sorrow melding with hers, and she felt, in that moment, nothing but a desire to spare Ash from this humiliation and abuse.

Netta fell forward, her legs seeming to fail her as she tried to rush to Ash. As she fell, Netta saw as Ash leaned forward, the movement making it easier to see the wet, wide-eyed expression on his face.

She called out, her mind spinning as she tried to think, to stop what she saw happening. "Wait!"

Hera called out, her eyes fixed solely on the weeping Monster hovering over her. "Stop, Ashwood."

Ash stilled, only a few measures away from touching her body with his own.

Hera turned her head then, gazing at her fallen daughter. When she spoke, her voice sounded flat, annoyed. "What do you want? We are moments away from ushering in a new world, and your interruption is unwanted."

As Netta opened her mouth to speak, it was Sia who actually spoke. As the woman stepped forward, Netta was able to see her sister. And for the first time since they had entered the chamber, Netta truly saw her sister's expression.

The stricken, horrified look on her face shocked Netta, even in her own state of sheer despair. Gone was any cruel lightheartedness or detachment, now there seemed to be an all too naked fear that, for once, seemed to lead credence to how youthful her body looked. Sia spoke, her voice seeming able to barely suppress a tremble. "Mother, how could you want this creature in such a manner? It'll betray you, and then it will fall on me to - to do what must be done."

Hera was silent, regarding her eldest daughter with a cold expression that Netta had once known all too well. Finally, she said, "And, pray tell, what do you think will be your duty to me, as your queen?"

Sia's face seemed to jerk, facial muscles finding difficulty settling on any set expression. The one expression her face most seemed to return to was an almost slack one on helplessness. On the woman, it looked alien, and Netta was struck by a sense of overwhelming pity that took her by surprise.

Her sister looked like a prized pet who has been struck, hard, by its owner. Finally, Sia spoke, her voice sounding odd, strained as though she thought she was submerged in a nightmare. "I - if you're possessed, Mother, it will fall on me to kill you."

Hera laughed. She wiped at a tear on her face, then regarded her daughter. She said, "Kill me? Your queen? Why, dearest daughter, that would fall under treason, would it not?"

"Mother -"

Hera's voice snapped, returning to its all too natural cold, flatness. "Treason. I've killed others simply for standing in my way, what do you think I would do to someone who wants to kill me?"

Sia was visibly shaking, clutching helplessly at her neck. "I don't - I would never want to kill you. What's gotten into you? You let her kill Beryl to prove a point."

"I was not simply making a point when I allowed Beryl a chance to fight for her right to stay by my side. She was proving herself to be more trouble than she was worth to me - and I was interested to see what her King would be willing to do, if anything."

Sia took a step back, a growing look of understanding - disgust - on her smooth features. "You couldn't - you didn't kill my little sister just... because you wanted to test a theory?" When Hera did not answer, Sia's gaze seemed to swim over the room - the still figures of the frightened Witches that had been tied up, the altar, the nude, frozen Ash - before she turned her head, gazing at Netta. In her eyes, Netta saw an almost naive look of disbelief in her eyes.

It occurred to Netta that, in spite of everything that she had seen Hera do to this point, it had never crossed her mind that she had been in any danger. Beryl's death, it seemed, had proven to her that whatever protected class she thought that she and her younger sister had been a part of had never existed in reality.

Had Sia ever felt truly helpless, for any period of her life, prior to this moment?