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Melinoë approaches her on unsteady footing, and Nemesis isn’t sure what to think.
The Crossroads is quiet this time of night, Shades and Gods and adversaries alike having retreated into the darkness, and only a few flickers of green still fade in and out around the clearing where Nemesis sits. It amazes her constantly, how you’re never truly alone down here. The grays and greens of the foliage around her hang ominously over her head, shifting in a breeze she cannot feel, while she draws her blade across a whetstone, over and over; a practiced reflex. Nemesis rolls her shoulder idly, wincing at the familiar feeling of her overexertion. Sleep has evaded her as of late, chased away by a restless energy in her muscles and a whirlwind in her head. She almost does not notice the Princess of the Underworld’s approach. (How foolish, to have let her guard down like that.)
Speaking of never being truly alone…
“Nemesis,” the voice startles her, and she’s lucky her hand misses the sharp edge of her sword. She hisses in irritation, and looks to meet the eyes of her disruption.
Melinoë stands a few paces from her, having somehow materialized from the shadows, and is leaning against a withered and gnarled willow tree. Moonlight reflects in the bracer on her right arm, and against the circlet in her hair. She looks genuinely pleased to see Nemesis here, which is slightly worrisome.
“Thought I might find you here,” she says, which is quite worrisome, but she moves to stand before Nemesis’ crouched form and continues to speak. “Can’t sleep?”
Nemesis scoffs. “You know I don’t need to. Neither do you, really. Waste of time.”
Melinoë frowns. “Just because you don’t need to, doesn’t mean it’s not good for you. You’re a fighter, you should know better than anyone.” she puts a hand on her hip. “You’re allowed to be good to yourself sometimes.”
True. Nemesis turns her head away, unwilling to relent, and instead studies the bough of a dying tree. “Did you need something, Princess?”
“Well,” Melinoë’s tone softens, perhaps at the nickname ( ugh ), and she’s hesitant. “Speaking of being good to yourself: Listen, Nem, I know the two of us have perhaps gotten off on the wrong foot lately, and I’ve been thinking-”
“Never a good start,” Nemesis is smirking, perhaps in an attempt to mask the flare of alarm at the other woman’s words, but Melinoë sends her a pointed look and keeps going. “I wondered if you’d like to maybe… take a break. Get off of your feet for a bit. Up at the Hot Springs. With me?”
The offer is… unexpected. Melinoë and herself have never exactly gotten along. The Headmistress herself had separated the two of them often when they were younger, back when they couldn’t help but go for each other’s throats every time they argued. That open animosity had staled with time and age, and Chronos had thrown a wrench into everybody’s lives recently anyway, but they had never truly reconciled in spite of it all. They had simply kept each other at an arm’s length. Nemesis had a churning, guiltful resentment that she harbored, and although it wasn’t exactly Melinoë’s fault, it was much easier to take her anger out on the Princess than on the fates themselves. Nemesis felt robbed, and she figured she was allowed. It didn’t help to watch Melinoë return home after a run, mismatched eyes bright with the thrill of battle, and to know she couldn’t be part of that fight.
There’s a part of her, though, that yearns to know Melinoë better. That aches to be more to her than a worthy adversary.
Nemesis meets her gaze. She gets to her feet, and Melinoë takes an instinctive step back, always intimidated by their height difference. Nemesis glares down at her, and is silent for a moment. The world is bathed in quiet blue light around them.
“Sure,” she says, “why not?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Hot Springs remind Nemesis of the ocean.
It’s been a long, long time since she’s seen the sea. Lifetimes upon lifetimes have passed her since then, since Rhamnous, but the smell of the salt and the roiling blue-green put her mind at ease, just a bit.
This is in direct contrast to Melinoë, bouncing her weight from foot to glowing foot, who is staring right at her and making her extremely uneasy. Nemesis speaks, desperate to fill the silence.
“Go on then, I'm not looking.” The Princess frowns, confused, before realizing she’s supposed to be taking her clothes off. “Oh!” she exclaims quickly. “Yes, alright, you do the same,” and Nemesis whips her head around as Melinoë’s hands reach for the belt of her tunic.
This leaves her with the task of wrestling against her plates of armor, something she is accustomed to but always frustrated with. She removes her gauntlets, pauldrons, boots, and finally rips her chestplate from her gambeson. She takes care of her boots and the gambeson quickly, and almost turns to face Melinoë, and with heated cheeks remembers she probably shouldn't do that. Instead she turns to step into the spring.
Nemesis’ eyes fall closed as she slips into the water, letting the heat and the steam fill her body and lungs. Few pleasures come close to this one; it had always been one of her favorite ways to unwind after a fight. She leans back into the stone seating, tilting her head towards the sky and exhaling. In the shallows the water only barely reaches her chest, but she lets herself enjoy it, flexing and relaxing her calves and knees.
She opens her eyes when she feels Melinoë settle in beside her, but keeps them on the stars that blink above their heads. Were she less hypervigilant, she could fall asleep like this.
For a while, the only sounds are the hiss of the water and the rustle of leaves. Eventually, Nemesis speaks.
“You’ve gotten stronger,” she says, surprised by her earnestness. “I can see it in the way you hold yourself.” she tilts her head down to look at the Princess after moments pass without a response, and nearly flinches.
Melinoë is looking up at her, eyes wide and expression open, and she looks… mortal. Her face is bare of makeup, greenish tinge to her lips gone, and without her circlet she looks almost human. Save, of course, for the glowing green skeletal arm. Her eyes, intensely fixed on her, burn brighter than ever. Condensation collects on her throat, and the waterline laps at her collarbones. Nemesis has to look away.
“So have you,” she says. Nemesis scoffs, feeling mildly placated, but doesn’t push it.
“You think your magic tricks are gonna be enough to get you all the way to Chronos?” Usually this is somewhat of a jab, but there’s a desperate tinge to Nemesis’ words, now. She’s fought alongside Melinoë before, offered help where she could, but it never seems to be enough. Nothing ever seems to be enough. Melinoë sighs beside her.
“I don’t know. Hecate says I’m improving, says I’m accomplishing something of ‘great import’, but lately I just feel frustrated.”
Nemesis laughs, if only tensely. “You can say that again,” she rests her arms against the rim of the spring and studies the night sky once more.
They’re quiet again. Nemesis is moments from dozing off, when Melinoë puts a hand on her knee under the water. She jolts upright, meeting the woman’s gaze, and she looks apologetic. The green of her arm glows in the light, and under the bubbling water it looks almost like an apparition. It feels real, though. Nemesis swallows nervously.
“Nem,” Melinoë won’t stop staring at her. “I’m sorry.”
“Fuck off,” Nemesis shakes her head. “I don’t need to hear that from you. I’m not a child.”
Melinoë’s hand tightens on Nemesis’ knee, and she persists. “No. I know that. I'm apologizing for what I can't change; for time I can't rewind. I’m telling you I know it isn’t fair. And that if it were up to me, you'd be out there too. You’re a brilliant soldier, and you’re more capable than half of the Olympians I've encountered, and Hells if I know what Hecate’s plan is for me. I’m saying I’m just trying to do the best I can.” The stars blink above them. Nemesis closes her eyes.
“You’ve every right to hate me. I’m sure I'm a constant reminder of your perceived failure. I’m only saying you haven’t failed, Nemesis. You must understand that.”
“I don’t.” Nemesis tells the night sky. Melinoë bristles beside her, “But-”
“I don’t hate you, Melinoë.” Nemesis sighs. Lets her eyes blink open. Stares down at the object of her equal torment and attraction. “I tried, for a long time. When we were young, I'm sure I did. It was easier than trying to understand you. Easier than trying to explain my frustration.” she scoffs. “Shit load of good that did me.” the Princess blinks up at her, unsure, and Nemesis tries to grapple with a proper explanation. “It was never really about you, is the thing. It was me, feeling like a dog with a lame leg, useful enough to keep around but not strong enough to do the work. Me, feeling like what I was offering the headmistress wasn’t enough. Me, stupidly jealous of a girl just trying to get her family back, which I couldn't comprehend because I couldn't see past my own sword.” she lets her hand fall atop of Melinoë’s, watches the water ripple around the glowing green of her skin.
“Let me make it up to you, Mel. I want you to understand” She can hardly believe her words. Hardly believe she’s allowed this.
“I understand. ” Melinoë says hurriedly, turning on the stone seat to face her. “I knew it was never truly about me. But I hated you to look at me the way you did. I much prefer the way you look at me now.”
“Oh, yeah?” Nemesis raises an eyebrow. “And how’s that?”
“Like you want me.” Melinoë says. And then blinks, as though she hasn’t meant to.
Oh . Well.
There’s a beat of silence. Melinoë’s hand retracts, but Nemesis holds it against her knee. Her heart is racing, she’s sure of it, and she feels foolish. She feels like an animal caught in a trap.
“Well. I've never been very discrete, have I?”
“You-” The princess opens her mouth, cheeks and chest flushed from the steam, but Nemesis is tugging her forward, her other hand coming to grasp her hip, and she pulls Melinoë to straddle her thighs. The other woman gasps, hands flying up to clutch at Nemesis’ shoulders, and Nemesis has to take a breath to process just how much smaller Melinoë is. She rests both hands around her waist, realizing her fingertips touch, and she swallows.
Melinoë’s mouth is close to hers. They’re both breathing hard.
“You can tell me to stop.” Nemesis murmurs. The woman in her lap is trembling, and water beads in the space between their bodies. She’s so warm.
Melinoë’s face is lit by the glow of her arm, by the glow of the Spring. She looks like a Shade like this, shrouded by steam. She undoes Nemesis’ hair, lets it spill to her shoulders and into the water like ink. Melinoë simply shakes her head, face set in an expression of clear determination, as though she’s heading out to fight, and she leans forward to press their open mouths together.
When Nemesis stooped low enough to imagine kissing Melinoë, usually after doing something to piss her off, it was exactly like this. Melinoë comes alive under her hands and against her lips, surging to meet her and grasping at every solid inch of Nemesis she can reach. They fight with tongue and teeth, Melinoë wrapping a hand around Nemesis’ bicep and whining into her mouth when the muscle jumps under her fingers.
She squeezes Melinoë’s waist, testing, and the Princess makes another muffled noise and breaks the kiss, panting.
“Nem,” she breathes, “I want-” Nemesis cuts her off, broad hands coming up to trace the swell of her breasts. “I know.” she says, because she does. “Can I-”
“ Please,” Melinoë surges to kiss her again, pliant under her hands, and Nemesis can’t deny either of them this anymore. Can’t rationalize pretending she doesn’t want it. She cups one breast roughly, her hand dwarfing the scale of her figure, and kisses her hard and fast. Melinoë moans openly against her mouth, hips jerking tightly in her lap, and her small hands scrape at the muscles of her abdomen. Nemesis hisses in pleasure, biting at Melinoë’s lower lip, dizzy from the steam and the woman beginning to grind down against her thigh. Eventually, it’s too much to keep kissing, and Melinoë wraps her arms around Nemesis’ neck and buries her face against the woman’s throat. She's moving her hips back and forth, and Nemesis feels lost in the tide of her.
“You’re so-” Melinoë’s teeth sink into her neck and she cuts off with a groan, bucking up senselessly against the weight of her. “Oh, Styx,” she breathes, and she feels Melinoë’s laugh against her skin.
She lets the heat wash over her for a while, the two of them moving roughly against each other, until Melinoë breathes “touch me, please,” against the shell of Nemesis’ ear, and she has to stop herself from holding the other woman tight enough to bruise.
Nemesis, helpless to stop this and desperate to give Melinoë whatever she wants, does as she’s told and slips a hand between the Princess’s legs. The water is still so hot, everything around them is hot, but Nemesis presses two fingers against her and Melinoë cries out as though she’s been branded. Belatedly, Nemesis flinches with how badly she realizes she’s wanted to hear that sound.
She starts with one finger, lets Melinoë get used to it, lets herself get used to it, and Mel takes it. Sinks down onto her hand and whines something about “damned calluses” and bites at Nemesis' throat and takes it . She has to remind herself to breathe, drowning in the feeling of the woman against her chest, around her finger. She adds another, slowly and carefully, but Melinoë is eager and determined and it makes Nemesis’ chest surge with something like fondness. It isn't long before she’s trembling, arms wound tight against Nemesis’s broad shoulders, hips jerking roughly and voice caught in her throat. Nemesis turns her face to Melinoë’s ear, breathing hot and fast, and whispers, “You got it, Princess. Come on.”
And Melinoë falls apart for her.
She wails against Nemesis’ throat, body pulling bowstring taut, and Nemesis holds her through it. Melinoë fists a hand in Nemesis’ hair as she comes, and a sharp tug makes her hips jerk reflexively. Nemesis steadies her with a free hand and kisses her jaw until Melinoë is trembling from overexertion and begins to writhe in her lap. Nemesis pulls her fingers away slowly, and Melinoë watches with rapt attention as she licks them clean.
The air feels cooler than her skin now, which is slightly concerning, but she can only stare mutely at Melinoë, both of them trembling with equal parts arousal and disbelief.
“Gods, I…” Nemesis’ voice is rough, and the words die on her tongue. This is all so hard to believe, the absurdity of the woman in her lap, one she should surely hate, and yet.
And yet Melinoë’s touch is feather-light on her chest, and she shivers despite the heat radiating from the two of them, and Melinoë is grinning openly at her.
“You,” she says breathlessly, “are quite good at that.”
“Yeah, well,” Nemesis tries to hide her smile. “Don’t say I never did anything nice for you.”
Melinoë swats at her playfully, splashing water droplets that run down her chest. Nemesis stares.
“Shut up, you’re insufferable. I can feel how affected you are.”
Nemesis feels her face flush and she clicks her teeth, turning to look at the bubbling water. Melinoë sets one small hand against her jaw. “We’d better get dressed. I imagine everyone should be waking soon. It's a miracle we’ve been left alone this long, truly.” Nemesis squints at the dark of the woods beyond them, and Melinoë grimaces. “I guess we might not be. I shudder to think.” and the two of them can’t help but laugh.
“Let me return the favor sometime soon.” she says earnestly, as they stand on unsteady legs. “Please?”
Nemesis catches her in a biting kiss, and then pushes her away towards her discarded tunic.
“I’m holding you to that, Princess. You owe me.” and Melinoë smirks back at her. Nemesis’ hair is unwound and plastered to her shoulders and back, and she stands shivering in the dim light of the pool for a moment. She lingers, content to cross her arms and watch Melinoë dress before her in the faded blue-purple of the dawn, and thinks that perhaps she's finally getting what she deserves. This must be some sort of retribution in and of itself, shouldn’t it?