Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, the OC of Arei (who was originally the creation of Meriah), or the quote by Alfred Lord Tennyson.
A.N.: Hello again dear readers. As you can derive from the summary, this is yet another Mewtwo fanfiction from me…and one, suffice to say, that should hardly be called 'new', all facts considered. Hints for this story have been on my profile for years…but now, after struggling for longer than I care to admit, it's ready to be posted. The next chapter will have a rundown of its history…for now I'm not going to bother you with it.
At any rate, many thanks to Louisa and Dark Magician Girl Aeris for their help…I love you both so much!
Enjoy the prologue!
P.S.: 1.) Try to pay attention to the dates; and 2.) the psycho-blabber/quotes that begin each chapter convey the theme of that entry. If necessary, warnings about content will be posted in the A.N..
- H O L L O W -
- H O L L O W -
Date - February 7th, 112 P.A. (Post Apocalypse) / 2116 A.D. (Anno Domini):
When will 100 summers die,
And thought and time be born again,
And newer knowledge, drawing nigh,
Bring truth that sways the souls of men?
Here all things in their place remain,
As were all order'd ages since,
Come, Care and Pleasure, Hope and Pain,
And bring the fated Fairy Prince.
- Alfred Lord Tennyson, "The Sleeping Palace."
…A fat and elderly Pidgey preens itself on the windowsill of my cell, running its pink, blunt beak through the white and brown feathers of its wings, its wide, dark eyes staring into the dimly illuminated room I am trapped within, spying me humbled and in solitude. The bronze light of sunset silhouettes its form in the slit of an opening that acts as a portal to the outside world, and which is nowhere near wide enough to push even my leg through, as small and thin as I am.
One should understand that I haven't tried to escape in such a manner. I don't have any desire to risk my modesty to the guards that patrol the courtyard around the prison; who lurk in the halls beyond the locked and heavy steel door that I'd been led through hours before this point. However, though we are essentially separated by these firm barriers, the walls don't stop their hisses and taunts from reaching my ears.
'Traitor'…'witch'…'whore'…. I am being called all of those things; being charged with those treasonous labels.
It arouses only so much emotion in me now.
My anger evaporated soon after I realized that no one was listening to my pleas. Once I had realized how utterly ensnared I was, that fury had been replaced by a calm, dark sort of acceptance of what was happening, of verity mingled with sorrow. Pushing my simple meal to the bird - a chunk of white bread - I silently muse on those derogatory labels.
'Traitor' is false, of course. I haven't had treacherous thoughts since before I was placed in my god's services - it was an unavoidable alteration of perspective. Certainly since then I have had my doubts; my scoffing, sarcastic moments in which I'd expressed my less-than-worshipping opinions of my high lord. But he had always been amused by this, while others had gaped at my words.
Yet I am still loyal. I have not done what they've accused me of…!
…As for being a 'witch'…this is preposterous. I am not a Holy Child…I'm completely human. And while there are those in my race who do possess extra-sensory abilities, I am not of that rare category. Besides, even if I were, I would not have tried to bewitch my superior! I am not a creature of personal ambition, unlike some I could name! Furthermore, my god is extremely powerful…I highly doubt I could have seduced him with "sorcery."
I assume that label has something to do with the final insult: 'whore.'
I actually do take offense to this last slur…mostly because it was true a couple years ago. However, I chose prostitution as my occupation for strategic reasons, not out of perverse inclinations. A slut can slip into places no one else may go…she (or he, I suppose) may slit her lover's throat as he sleeps naked in her bed, or coo him into revealing information that could proves useful to her fellows. It's almost laughably easy…as long as you act the fool, people will give you a surprising number of whispered secrets. Persuading them to drink heartily helps lubricate the process and erases their dire mistakes.
A shame really, that I never got the chance to try my hand at it. Then I truly would be a guilty heretic.
Yet I was a pleasure woman, not a spy, and despite the label, pleasure for myself was uncommon - although I sometimes did cling to the connection to sooth stress and get to sleep. Most of the time though there was only discomfort and some amount of pain in the task of satisfying another individual.
Perhaps it's fortunate then that my heart had already been too embittered to be effected by the things my body was inflicted to.
…But as I stated, that was in the past. I am no longer poly-amorous.
A more apt description would be that I'm now a lover to a single person. Of course, since he and I hid our relationship fairly well (though I suspect there are dozens of beings who know the truth…I know of one entire group who does in certainty), I am certain others think that I've fallen back on my "old ways." The idea is ridiculous for more reasons than I can list.
But I'm certain this term has only come up because I've had a child.
My heart twists as I think of my son…my little Jonah; my sweet, little dove. He's the infant I never should have been able to have, but by some miracle was blessed with. Does his father hold him now as the twilight falls? Or is my partner pacing, trying to find a way to save me from the death sentence I'm likely facing? He promised me he would keep me from meeting such a fate. I am his wife, his mate, the mother of his child…he refuses to allow me to die because of some human folly.
But how successful, how persuasive could he possibly be, against hundreds of people who think him to be ensorcelled?
I wondered…if we told the truth, he and I - revealed to the public our union - would we face this disaster? Or was it inevitable either way? With the Council of Priests, the Rebels, and the blindfolded people all against us…could we find salvation through exposing to them all that we shared…?
No. They wouldn't accept it - there are too many regulations that have been too long imparted on these people to avoid having us be torn down by them if we spoke out. A High Priestess serves her god in any way she can…including giving him an heir, in my sole case. But no more than that…otherwise she, a mortal, becomes equivalent to a Goddess like Ai. And no one wants more power to be given to a mere human, no matter what her status. Ironic actually…because as I stated before: I have no desire to rule. I am not a tyrant.
I'm just a doomed empress.
By Jehovah…I have not even told my husband that I love him, have I?
The thought sickens me as much as my supper has done to the gluttonous bird that has eaten my offering. The avian pokemon sways against the stone before growing still, its eyes turning waxy. Within a few more moments it ceases to breathe and dies…as I suspected, my meal was poisoned. I have long since emptied out my pitcher of water onto the floor in suspicion of similar toxins. I yearn to quench my thirst and hunger, but if I am to die, I will do it under the gaze of my mate. Perhaps, by some slim chance, I'll be able to tell him how much I care for him. He has already made it clear that the feeling would be requited….
I…I can be well certain that our relationship was not entirely of lust and manipulation. What we shared was far too intimate for that. Certainly it began shallow enough - a beneficial friendship made that inevitable. Still…he had been happy…passionate at times, as had I.
Perhaps that was enough….
Sighing wearily, I let my mind wander on memories of us and of our little one; of all the moments that we had spent together, both the good and bad alike. Abruptly, for the first time in hours, the desire to weep rose in my tight throat and burning eyes, but I held it at bay. If I was to cry, it wouldn't be now. I had known this fate was coming, after all…one way or another, I couldn't have escaped it: for no Priestess has ever lasted beyond two years in this realm. Could I truly believe that I might possibly be the exception of that rule…?
Mewtwo believed so. But I….
I know it will take a miracle for my life to be saved….
…I hear people at my door. Judgment, and not of the divine kind, has arrived.
I pray for us now.
A.N.: Well, who's intrigued? Be kind and review.