Work Text:
Melinoё is an absolute mess by the time she returns from fighting Cronos. She had been successful—just as she has been night after night ever since she first bested the titan. Though, until she can figure out what exactly she needs to collect in order to stop him for good, her nights must be spent diminishing his power as much as she can. Despite besting him this night, though, it was one of her closer calls. She got messy and one of his spells had nearly taken her out entirely. Melinoё was a bloody mess by the time she managed to utter the words return to shadow now.
She’s scrambling through her drawers for anything to help her heal faster—nectar, ambrosia, anything to help. She’ll heal in time, especially now that she’s back at the crossroads, but she’s not exactly fond of bleeding all over the place in the meantime.
“Gods, what happened to you, princess?” Nemesis’s voice interrupts her searching, as if she sensed Melinoё was already having a terrible day and decided to make it worse. It is incredibly rare that Nemesis breaches her tent, which means it must be something important, but Melinoё doesn’t want to think about what she may need when black dots are swimming at the edges of her vision—and where the fuck did she put her nectar?
“Not right now, Nemesis,” Melinoё grunts, wincing as her searching tugs at her aching wounds. She’s bleeding all over her favorite rugs, which means she’ll have to spend most of her evening once she’s healed over by the river, washing these clean. It’ll be a grueling task, but Hecate is not fond of the witch using spells to do simple chores such as cooking or cleaning—she says doing things by hand makes one appreciate the end result more. Melinoё is starting to get sick of the life lessons around here.
“I wouldn’t be talking, since you look like you’re about to keel over,” Nemesis continues prodding, stepping further into the tent and letting the flap slip closed behind her. She’s almost bumping the fabric ceiling with her height, her bun adding more inches than she deserves. “Gods, what happened to you? The titan put you in your place?”
“If he did, I wouldn’t have this,” Melinoё finds the energy to chuckle, grabbing Z-sand out of her pack and tossing it on her cushioned floor. If she’s going to bleed out, she’s at least going to gloat while she does it. “I just need to find my fucking nec—”
Nemesis cuts her off by tossing a bottle of the golden liquid over to her. Melinoё scrambles to catch it, the bottle nearly slipping from her bloodied fingers and shattering across the blood and rug covered floor. A sinewy crack even runs through her green, inhuman arm, leaking plasmatic ichor that mixes with the crimson blood down her shoulder. Nemesis watches with crossed arms as Melinoё unscrews the lid and downs the liquid, feeling the golden relief flow through her veins, already working overtime to seal her wounds.
“Where did you get this?” Melinoё asks, catching her breath for the first time since she returned to the crossroads. “And why are you bothering me?”
“I wouldn’t complain considering I just stopped you from spending the night bleeding,” is Nemesis’s only answer, though she’s looking anywhere but Melinoё’s piercing gaze which means she’s clearly anxious about something which means she came here for a reason. If she wanted to be the bane of Melinoё’s existence, she would have bothered her in the Fields of Mourning, but the goddess had been strangely absent from her encounters. She has noticed Nemesis joining her in the fields more often, even sometimes dropping down into Erebus or Oceanus as if she couldn’t get enough of the action.
Energy returns to Melinoё as she begins to heal, heading to the corner of her tent where she has access to the water, settling down on the bank and reaching for a rag as she begins to clean the remainder of her blood off of her skin. She’ll have to wash this garment as well, but she’ll wait until she doesn’t have Nemesis staring holes into the back of her neck to remove it. As much as she would like to tease the goddess, Melinoё isn’t in the mood right now. Not after such an exhausting night.
She and Nemesis have, as of late, been seemingly operating on a basis of teasing one another with something she cannot quite put her finger on. Perhaps it is simple desire, though Melinoё cannot be too sure. Nemesis makes a habit out of being impossible to read—one moment she’s demanding the two of them spar until blood is drawn or one of them can no longer get up, the next they’re fighting side by side in the fields as if they were raised to work together. Melinoё does not know what to make of it—nor does she allow herself the time to. She has a task at hand and the pit of curiosity that forms in the bottom of her stomach with each new turn from Nemesis needs to be the last of her worries. Key word: needs to be. That does not mean it is.
As she washes blood off of herself, she turns to peer at Nemesis over her shoulder. “Is there a reason you’ve left your usual post to pester me? Usually, you’re so kind as to wait until I bother you myself.”
She undoes the hinges on the armor around her arms as she speaks, barely looking as removing the armor feels like second nature. Melinoё is, admittedly, a little curious about what Nemesis’s post-battle routine looks like. She wears considerably more armor than Melinoё and the young goddess doesn’t think she’s ever seen her without it. Nemesis looks around as if taking in Melinoё’s tent for the first time. Her eyes linger on the family portrait Melinoё keeps on her wall, a constant reminder as to why she does this all in the first place. No matter how torturous the task, how many times she returns to the crossroads in a bloodied, beaten heap, she needs to free her family.
“You made quite the ruckus when you came in, princess,” Nemesis grunts, walking throughout the small room as if Melinoё has given her permission to nose around as much as she likes—which, she hasn’t, but every time she thinks about telling her to stop, the words don’t quite form. “Hecate asked me to see to you when she saw you come in. I don’t know why she wouldn’t just do it herself, but you know that woman has never been straight forward in her life. And to answer your earlier question, the nectar’s yours. I held onto it in case I needed it out in the field, but it seemed like you needed it more than me.”
“Re-gifting is a tad rude,” Melinoё jokes, feeling much better than she did a moment ago. She turns to face Nemesis, still sitting on the river bank with one ankle tucked underneath her thigh. Nemesis, it seems, is refusing to look at her. Sometimes, Melinoё thinks if she hadn’t been born and raised for this impossible task, they could have been friends. But she knows Nemesis will always resent her for being given what she so begged for. Melinoё has never been able to control her blood, though, she wishes she could. She’s sure Nemesis wishes the same. “There’s something else, isn’t there? You hardly make a habit of actually listening to the headmistress.”
She can’t get over how out of place Nemesis looks in here. Everything is catered to Melinoё’s size and Nemesis is at least twice that. It would make her chuckle if something wasn’t clearly distressing Nemesis so much.
“What’s it like? To fight him?” Nemesis finally asks, fiddling with one of the small trinkets she has on her shelf. It’s just an unlit candle shaped like a skull (Melinoё made it herself), but Nemesis is suddenly looking at it like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Melinoё knows this is simply her tactic to avoid looking her in the eye.
Melinoё sighs. With Nemesis’s attention not on her, she removes her garment and dips it into the water below—not to tease, simply because she hates the weight of blood against her skin. She was born into violence and she resents the constant reminder of it. The constant reminder that all she was born for was to be a weapon—made to bleed herself dry again and again and again.
“Exhausing,” Melinoё answers honestly. “Sometimes, by the time I get to Tartarus, I wonder if it’s worth it. If night after night, I make any change at all. If I’ll ever save them. He gets in my head, makes me feel… worthless. I find no satisfaction in the final blow anymore because I know that when I wake, it is time to delve once more into the depths. It is a thankless, brutal job and I often wonder why you would want such a thing in the first place. Maybe you are more of a masochist than I originally thought.”
“Watch your tone, prin—” Nemesis begins to growl, but then turns, seeing the bareness of Melinoё’s back. She does not turn to give the goddess attention, instead watching the red from her dress bleed into the ghostly glow of the river water. “What are you doing?”
“The washing up, I’m sure you’re familiar,” Melinoё sighs, turning and catching Nemesis’s eyes over her shoulder. “Are there any other questions you have? I’m sure you’ve seen to me enough for the headmistress’ liking.”
Their gazes stay locked on each other, the small tent rife with palpable tension—thick enough for Melinoё to cut it with her sister blades. She waits for Nemesis to huff and leave, stomping away the way she always seems to do. Every single time she helps Melinoё in the fields, this is what she does. She pretends none of it matters, that the two of them are nothing but rivals cursed to accomplish different things, but Melinoё sees right through her. Beneath the rage, beneath the call for retribution, Nemesis is constantly worried about her own worth. If Melinoё can be the one to vanquish Cronos for good, then what good is she for?
“I don’t understand you,” Melinoё hums once the goddess says nothing nor does she move. Melinoё dips slightly into the river, grateful for the cool rush of water against her skin. It’s nothing compared to the warm baths across the crossroads, but Melinoё doesn’t feel like getting dressed again just to head over there, so the river will have to do. She whispers an incantation under her breath to warm up a small section of the water, if only because it eases the aches in her muscles. She continues working the fabric, but the stains remain no matter what she does. Her work gets more and more aggressive as she grits her teeth, wishing she could just tear the bloodied fabric to pieces so she need not be reminded of it. “You help me, you spar with me, you give me nectar, but there is something in you that refuses to admit that you might like me, so now I am forced to sit here while you wallow in my tent. If you have nothing more for me, Nemesis, then I suggest you leave.”
She can’t take her eyes off the blood swirling in the water. Melinoё herself is fully healed, but this blood remains. It remains only to be spilled another night and another and another and sometimes, Melinoё wishes this was not her life. That she was more than a blade. And right now, Nemesis is not helping her frustration.
The sound of Nemesis’s footsteps echo through the tent and she expects to turn around to find the goddess gone, but instead, her shadow darkens the river bank as she peers over Melinoё. Though she chose to be bare, she suddenly feels more exposed than she did initially, shrinking into herself before the fierce gaze of the goddess. Melinoё does not let her catch onto the discomfort, though, furrowing her brow and morphing her expression into one that is more of a challenge than anything.
Surprisingly, Nemesis does not start a fight. Instead, she settles down onto the riverbank on her knees—still towering over Melinoё even with her legs halved, which Melinoё thinks is wholly unfair. She brushes past Melinoё, reaching for the bloodied fabric and tearing it out of her grip. She tugs it aside, resting it on the floor of the tent, away from Melinoё’s reach. “The blood won’t get out unless you get some tonics from the broker, you and I have both done enough laundry in our lives to know that. Give it a rest.”
“You of all people advocating for rest, I never thought I’d see the day. Have you ever even taken that bloody armor off?” Melinoё spits, tucking her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Her body aches, begging for a dip in the pool, but she does not want to expose herself further to Nemesis, whose eyes trace down her form as if memorizing every inch of her skin. Melinoё had thought about inviting her to the baths the other night, but feared she would be laughed out of the crossroads. Now, though, seeing the way Nemesis looks at her, she is not so sure she would be rejected.
Nemesis sighs, reaching to one shoulder and undoing one piece of armor before reaching for the other. They clink to the ground with a resounding thud, echoing against the confines of Melinoё’s contorted mind. This is a side of Nemesis she has not seen, but she says nothing for fear interrupting her would cause her to suddenly snap out of it and leave. She watches as Nemesis undoes her chest panel, pulling the strong armor over her head and tossing it aside as if it were nothing. Melinoё is almost certain it would be pitiable if she were to attempt to lift such a piece of armor, even with her godly strength. Melinoё is a young god, one not often worshiped, meaning it will be centuries before her strength matches that of Nemesis.
“What are you doing?” Melinoё cannot help but ask, the words nothing more than an utterance under her breath. Her eyes follow Nemesis’s strong hands as they undo her gauntlets, more and more armor dropping to the ground below her.
“You need to rest, so I’m proving a point,” Nemesis grunts, almost agitated at having been called out. “That’s the worst I’ve seen you come back—victory or not. Just because Hecate tells you you’re a weapon, doesn’t mean that’s how you get to treat yourself.”
The stroke of kindness from Nemesis is unheard of, though not unwelcome. Melinoё finds her gaze softening as she watches the goddess remove the rest of her armor, dipping her legs into the river below. Melinoё has never been more grateful for the privacy of her own tent. Without really thinking about it, Melinoё scoots closer to her, letting her head rest against the woman’s arm as they both settle down, battle-weary and tired of fighting.
“I fight enough enemies night after night, I do not know why we must seek out an enemy in one another,” Melinoё whispers, a vain attempt at extending an olive branch she knows Nemesis would rather face the fields than accept. But she has to try, because she’s too tired to fight and for once, she needs a friend who understands. Dora tries her best, but it’s been so long since she’s been even close to human, she never quite says the right thing for Melinoё.
“I don’t see you as an enemy,” Nemesis mutters, the next part is under her breath, “We’re not nearly on the same level, I’m much stronger than you.”
Melinoё rolls her eyes, making a vain attempt to shove the goddess, but she doesn’t budge—only further proving her point. She sighs, leaning back on her elbows and stretching out her aching muscles. She wishes godhood came with less pain—physical and otherwise. Her eyes close, relishing in the cool air on her bare skin. She’s acutely aware of Nemesis’s gaze on her, the hairs at the nape of her neck standing on end as the goddess’s eyes ravage her body. It is nothing Nemesis has not seen before—the two of them have lived in close quarters for the entirety of Melinoё’s life. Something about tonight, though, feels different. Charged. Maybe it is the fact that she’s somehow etched a crack into Nemesis’s shield of valor—catching the slightest glimpse at the vulnerable insecurity that bubbles just beneath the surface.
She cracks one eye open and Nemesis looks away immediately, a rush of blood forming in her cheeks at the notion of having been caught. Heat broils low in the pits of Melinoё’s stomach, a desire forced dormant soon waking from its sleep.
“Why tonight?” Melinoё asks, closing her eyes once more. She isn’t sure if Nemesis’s stare resumes. She hopes it does. “You did not visit me in the fields, yet you come to me now and remove your armor. Why now?”
“You ask too many questions, princess,” Nemesis grumbles in response. Just as with any encounter with Nemesis, Melinoё wonders which word of hers will be the final straw. Which one will have Nemesis gathering her armor and fleeing the tent, never to speak of this conversation again. Instead, though, she opens her eyes to find Nemesis staring at her openly—not looking away after having been caught this time. Now, it is Melinoё’s turn to blush.
“And you do not ask enough,” Melinoё hums, matter-of-factly as her gaze levels with the goddess. “Or else you would have asked to touch me by now, which you very clearly want to.”
“I don’t—” Nemesis starts to argue before her sentence fizzles out. It’s amazing how Melinoё seems to have knack for causing the goddess to stumble over her words in a way she never sees her do with anyone else. She feels a small swell of pride at seeing Nemesis flustered. “You’re the one who got undressed, I’m simply… enjoying the sights.”
Melinoё huffs, removing her laurel so she may run a hand through her hair. She sits up properly, her green, glowing arm pressed against the ground as she purposely avoids Nemesis’s gaze. She pulls her legs out of the water quickly, missing its warmth before she stands. “Well, it’s been a late night, I suppose I should be getting to be—”
Before she can finish her sentence, Nemesis reaches out with a hand for her waist, tugging her back with an almost frustrating ease. Her hand almost covers the entirety of Melinoё’s torso, dragging her back over to the riverbank (though, Melinoё goes willingly, she lets Nemesis have this anyway) and tugging her onto her lap.
Melinoё braces herself against Nemesis’s chest, a stilted breath falling from her lips. She steadies herself, legs spread on either side of Nemesis’s large thighs, though she can barely achieve such a feat without stretching. She reaches up, running her fingers through the soft locks of Nemesis’s hair, undoing its bun and letting it fall to her shoulders—the final piece of her armor undone.
“Princess,” Nemesis whispers—a warning, though Melinoё isn’t sure what for.
Melinoё hums, playing absentmindedly with the long locks now at her disposal. “Why do you aid me in the fields? Or Erebus? Or Oceanus? The task is not yours, you gain nothing from helping me, yet night after night, there you are. I think, perhaps, you have a fondness for me.”
At these words, the hand braced at the small of her back tightens, pushing her breasts further against Nemesis’s chest. It does little to deter Melinoё. She watches Nemesis watch her lips. “I think you like me much more than you would like to admit. I don’t think Hecate sent you to me at all, I think you came here of your own accord because you were tired of wanting something from me and decided to take it instead. So, tell me, retribution incarnate, are you going to take it or are you going to make me beg?”
Nemesis lets out a stilted breath, face hovering just above Melinoё’s. Finally, she seems to find her words, “I’m tempted to make you beg, but I’m not sure I have the patience for that right now.”
“You’ve never been particularly good with patience, no,” Melinoё reminds her, only a little smug. Even so, it’s Melinoё that leans forward and closes the gap between them, tilting her head up to capture Nemesis’s lips with her own. She’s thought about it many times, though she knows she shouldn’t—with her task at hand, there was little time to dwell on girlish desires and foolish pleasures, but sometimes, she would allow herself to dream of Nemesis, a world where she could shut the goddess up with a kiss.
Nemesis hums into the kiss, kissing Melinoё back fiercely, hand splayed across her entire lower back as she hugs Melinoё close. The kiss soon becomes open-mouthed and hungry, Melinoё panting into her mouth as excitement tinges at her nerves, eager to get a thorough taste of the goddess beneath her. Her hands tangle in Nemesis’s hair, tugging her down where she wants her as she rises to meet her lips. Maybe it was the rush of her victory that caused her to finally be willing to just take what she wants for once, but either way, Melinoё is grateful she feels brave no.
With ease, Nemesis stands and tugs Melinoё with her, dropping her gracefully onto the cushions before leaning over her, barely breaking their kiss for even a second. Melinoё whimpers against her lips, desperate for more of the goddess, though she seems almost afraid to press down—still lingering around taking what she really wants.
“Gods, you really are going to make me beg,” Melinoё whines as she tugs Nemesis down by the fabric of her red dress. “I’m a god, too, you’re not going to break me.”
“So needy,” Nemesis whispers as her lips trail down her neck, the warmth of her mouth a welcome reprieve to the cool night air seeping in. Despite her complaints, Nemesis lowers herself slightly, a thick, muscled thigh sliding between Melinoё’s legs and spreading her wide, applying pressure against her already aching core. Melinoё can’t help but sigh at the feeling, hands roaming around Nemesis anywhere she can reach, just desperate to be touching her.
Nemesis holds her face with one hand, lips giving her neck plenty of attention as one hand comes to arch her waist. Melinoё leans into every touch, completely pliant beneath the goddess, determined to take anything she is willing to give. All of her muscles feel so tense beneath Melinoё’s gentle touch and she begins to wonder who really needs this more.
Melinoё tugs her face away from her neck, pausing to caress the line of her jaw as Nemesis meets her gaze. Something unsaid passes between them, something Melinoё will ponder for weeks until eventually she knows Nemesis will let her in—she always does, no matter how hard she tries not to. Whatever needs to be said, Nemesis replaces it with an achingly gentle kiss, her hand on Melinoё’s waist sliding down to her thigh, spreading her legs even further apart so she has better access to her dripping cunt.
She lets out a loud moan at the first gentle caress of Nemesis’s thick fingers against her slick folds. Melinoё brings her ghostly hand to her own mouth, not feeling like waking the whole of the crossroads. Nemesis seems to find joy in Melinoё’s suffering, landing teasing touches around her clit as if to see just how much noise the goddess can make. The goddess teases at her entrance and by the feel of it, Melinoё already knows that she could be done with just one finger if Nemesis really tried. She can’t help but buck her hips up into the touch, silently begging for more.
Nemesis does not tease, though, she simply watches, eyes wide and darkened over with lust. Melinoё meets her gaze, a whimpering pant falling from her lips. Nemesis drags her hand away from her mouth so she can kiss her, pressing her first finger tentatively inside of her at the same time. The goddess swallows down her wrecked moan as she continues to press inward, letting Melinoё adjust to the girth of a single finger. Melinoё has never viewed herself as particularly weak by any means, but she pales in comparison to the strength and size of Nemesis and she feels it even more now. It is a pleasant burn around her cunt as she takes more and more of her finger, hips moving in tandem with the goddess’s hand to create a pleasant rhythm.
Desire twinges at her fingertips, scraping down Nemesis’s back though she knows her blunt nails will leave no mark on the goddess’s pale skin. Many times in the battle field, she has tried to strike Nemesis with her weapons just to see what color she bleeds, but the goddess seems impossible to penetrate. Now will be no different.
She bites down on Nemesis’s lip as she hits a particular spot deep inside of her that has her almost screaming. Pleasure thrums through her veins—unfamiliar yet so, so welcome. The only pleasure she has allowed herself are the occasional dalliances with her own hand (her flesh one—the other is too cold), but that was nothing compared to this. She almost wants to ask for more, but Nemesis does not seem content to push her this night, instead pumping in and out with a single finger, stretching Melinoё more than she thought possible.
As much as she wants to hold her own, she can already feel her orgasm on the edge of her senses, threatening to spill over as she can taste years of revenge and rage on the tongue of the goddess above her. So much pain in her mind, Melinoё can sense it, just out of reach, and yet so determined to please. Melinoё would spend hours begging Nemesis for every detail of her mind, picking her apart so she may truly know what makes her tick. That, though, will have to wait.
Nemesis brings another finger up to tease at her clit as she continues fucking into her, driving Melinoё over the edge faster than she would like to admit. She clenches around Nemesis, one hand digging fiercely into her shoulder as she yanks the goddess closer to her, wanting to be enveloped by her completely, not caring if she ends up crushed to pieces. Nemesis complies as much as she can, still keeping herself slightly above Melinoё with a firm hand, though she’ll take what she can get. Nemesis continues fucking her through her orgasm, slowly retracting her stimulation as she comes down, giving her an easy rest.
As she pulls out of Melinoё, she misses the burn of fullness almost immediately. She whines at the loss, brow furrowing as she continues kissing Nemesis almost feverishly. She’s almost certain Nemesis will never allow them to speak of this after this night, so she’s determined to make it last as long as she wants.
“Princess,” Nemesis murmurs against her lips, almost smiling into the kiss, though Melinoё cannot be too sure. Finally, the goddess pulls away, catching her breath as she looks down at Melinoё. “Gods, you’re insatiable.”
“You’ve been holding out so long, what did you expect?” Melinoё teases, staring up at her with stars in her eyes. “I do not blame you, though, you are more like me than you want to admit.”
“How so?” Nemesis asks, sounding gruff as she pulls back, sitting up beside Melinoё. The goddess huffs, sitting up—relishing in the quaint soreness of her legs. Much better than the aches of returning after a night of encounters.
“You have never allowed yourself to have anything you’ve wanted in your long life,” Melinoё speaks assertively, biting her lip as she watches the goddess avoid her eyes. “But if you are as much like me as I think you are, then I know you have wanted this for… longer than you’ll admit to me.”
Nemesis finally turns to look at her, a look in her eyes that is almost soft. “Always so full of yourself.”
Despite the insult, she leans over and captures Melinoё’s lips in another soft kiss. It almost catches her off guard, the soft intimacy of it. After they part, Nemesis stands, walking over to her discarded armor.
Melinoё huffs, forcing herself into a standing position, despite her aches. “Let me help.”
Nemesis turns to her, looking annoyed. Even so, she lets out a stern breath before gently falling to her knees so that Melinoё may fasten her armor for her. She takes a moment to push strands of Nemesis’s long hair out of the way, fastening the straps of her chestplate before getting to work on her shoulder covers. Nemesis just watches her, seemingly holding her breath. When Melinoё finishes, Nemesis stands.
She busies herself with grabbing another garment to pull over her head, not knowing if she has the heart to watch Nemesis leave—not after what they just shared. When she turns after dressing, she finds Nemesis still standing there.
“I help you because if I cannot kill him myself, I want it to be easier for you,” Nemesis admits. “It’s not because I think you’re a lesser soldier than me—though, you do lack the training, but you’re young, so it’s something I’m willing to let slide. It is as close as I can get to the task, so I do it. Besides, I like watching you sweat, princess. I’ll see you in the fields.”
Before Melinoё can respond, Nemesis comes closer, kissing her one last time. Melinoё feels almost drunk—as if she has sipped ambrosia or some of Dionysus’s wine, as Nemesis finally lets her go, looking almost forlorn at the prospect of leaving.
Melinoё watches her go. She knows, despite Nemesis’s propensity for running from anything good for herself, this will not be the last of this. Melinoё will make sure of it.