Maiden, My Maiden (SomethingSecret & MadiTheWitch)

[SomethingSecret]

In the ages when heroes walked among men, and gods still shaped the very clay with their hands to make the world, there existed three worlds: Heaven, Earth, and Hell. Heaven and Hell were ever at war, and the Men of Earth would fight for and against the other two realms. Yet never was this balance disrupted, no matter how long time went on. Yet, for as unchanging as these worlds were, things were not so in their respective realms. And in no other realm was this truer than in the land of chaos itself: Hell.

Hell was a land of many independent Realms, a veritable labyrinth of lands that might be connected one day, then far apart the next. The Realms were everything imaginable in terms of geography, from frozen mountain peaks to pits of magma, from hedonistic paradises to endless prisons full of torturers. Each Realm was ruled by a Demon Lord, exactly one, and when that Lord died, another was chosen to take his place. And if ever one Demon Lord threatened to break this fabric, the King of Hell, ruler of all the Realms, devised a system to keep the ever-hungry Demon Lords in check: the Maidens. Clad in white, blind from birth and blindfolded, they were the impartial arbiters of Hell, and the keepers of the Great Paradox, the one law that governed all of Hell that stated that no matter what happens in Hell, Chaos would ever be its master.

Just as every Lord had their realm, so too did every Lord receive a Maiden of his own, to act on his behalf when it came to arbitration of territory between realms. For while a Demon Lord might own no more than one realm, each realm waxed and waned in size and power regardless. And so was the case with Elysium, The Realm of Fallen Heroes. A land of endless golden fields, perpetual sunshine, and sites of magnificent architecture and statues, and its ruler was the Demon Lord known as Vanerius. An eight-foot-tall demon with a man-like shape, often clad in shining bronze armor and wearing a mohawk helmet upon his head when he went to war. Yet today was not such a day, for something else momentous was about to occur: Elysium was to receive its new Maiden. And Vanerius couldn't have been more irritated at the fact.

Standing upon a marble balcony adorned with small hedges and marble statues of heroes, The demon lord leaned back lazily against where the railing and the side of his massive manor met, eyes shut and dreaming. His two long, curved horns wrapped neatly around the projection of the wall, his hand dangling over the edge. His body was strong, fit for battle, though not some hulking mass of flesh. He lay nude, as he often did, baring his every muscle as well as his generous endowments, soaking in the pleasant warmth of the realm into his very bone. He awoke moments later, opened his eyes, revealing the red irises to the faux sun that shone over the landscape, lazily half-opening them to gaze across the endless fields. Today was that day, he confirmed to himself. And yet he could hardly muster the motivation to go and meet his new overseer...

Yet rise he would. His feet tapped against the ground as he removed himself from his perch, stretching as he walked back into his room, quickly fetching a toga and throwing it on. His room was decorated with all the accoutrements one would expect of a great hero: a lion rug, tapestries of battle, and cups and amphorae of gold and silver... After a quick look in a mirror, he then slicked over his dark hair into a fitting shape. Then, he grabbed a spear and a large round shield, carrying them under his arm as he left the room, descending down the marble steps past more statues until at last he reached the bottom floor, where a small gathering of men in armor waited around the main hall, where a large red carpet lay out the welcome leading up to a marble throne with incredibly comfortable pillows resting upon it. It was a long throne, one long enough that Vanerius could easily lean against one side, much as he had been upon his balcony. As he approached, a small, nervous-looking man approached him, with hair that looked as though it had been singed beyond recognition.

"M-my Lord," he stammered. "The Maiden's entourage was spotted close by. They should be here any minute..."

"Thank you, Icarus," Vanerius said. His voice was deep and commanding, without a hint of fear. "I hope you have that parchment ready—I want you to record as much as you can of this first encounter. After all..."

Vanerius turned around, looking to the doorframe.

"This Maiden may be the way forward. And we don't want to miss a single detail..."

With that, Vanerius pat Icarus on the shoulder, stepping up to his throne and then lounging upon it, leaving little to the imagination of his physique. He rested the spear and shield in front of him, in an obvious display of power meant to impress their coming company. Women in simple white dresses awaited with cups and pitchers of wine to be poured for their impending company. Only a moment or two would pass before a man clad in bronze armor entered the throne room, eyes intent and bowing quickly to his master.

"My lord," he said. "Beware—the Maiden approaches."

"Thank you," Vanerius said. "Now be gone. This is not a matter for my subjects..."

The man departed, and Vanerius had time for one last thought before the Maiden entered.

Come now, visionless arbitrator... Come, and show to me your intent...

 

[MadiTheWitch]

Maiden. To the hells and every intricate layer within, she was just that. Maiden. To the Demon Lords, and all who bowed before them, just that. Maiden. To the King of Hell, who created their infernal blood-line, just that.

Maiden.

To herself, not that.

She was a scholar of no name, and no renown. She was a lutanist, a harpist, and a singer—without audience. She was a strategist, bereft of cause. For a Maiden was impartial. She was a ghostly figure of pale skin, white dress, and white hair. Tall for her slender build, she stood six and a half feet barefoot. More in the clicking stilettos of her traditional garb. Blind, covered eyes spoke of her duty. To watch over hell under no guise, no influence, and no ulterior motive.

The caravan rolled down the pathway, either side full of lush golden fields to the horizon. Inside, the Maiden sat with two of her attendants, her black-tinted lips pursed in ambivalence as her long, sharp black nails were steadily filed to perfection under the care of a portly-looking demon maid.

"The land is lush and rich, Maiden…" The demon maid filing the Maiden's nails said, skin a dark shade of violet and short hair jet black.

"I've no interest in the Lord's crops, Rhea." The Maiden spoke with more vim than what was appropriate of her lineage, but Rhea and Cara—a stately, composed demon maid with soft pink skin and long dark maroon hair—were more than familiar with their Maiden's rare eccentricities.

"A fact that will stay between us, I'm sure." Cara settled.

Rhea giggled a sly little laugh, but settled back into the humdrum of filing, cleaning, then filing again.

The Maiden turned toward the window on her right. She couldn't see, of course. Such was the will of the King at the advent of her kind. Yet, she could feel. It was warm, the radiant light shining down was a privilege she hadn't been afforded since entering the convent. Stone walls, candle light, a bleak, cold existence. Utterly boring. Utterly isolated. It was where Maidens became what they were meant to be.

Dutiful, unwavering, and vehemently neutral.

They were delicate things, or so most believed. And there was truth to it. Even through the closed window she could feel the outer warmth of Elysium. She could tell that the breeze was a cool, refreshing one by how that warmth wained as the wind swept by. A Maiden's senses were not just honed, they were incredibly sensitive. Touch, in particular. Maidens were believed averse to all touch, requiring the smoothest silk and the softest beds.

"We're here." Cara declared, just before the caravan stopped and two knocks preceded the opening of the side door.

"We're here-!"

"We know," Rhea interrupted, putting her filing kit away into a large leather satchel at her side.

"Oh, right." The third demon maid—braided brown hair between sharp, short horns of a dark jade color and atop pale green skin—glanced briefly at Cara, the slightest tug at the corner of the stately demon's lip betrayed her nonchalant attitude.

"Have you prepared our Maiden's luggage, Dima?" Cara's voice was thin with an uppity tone.

"Whisked away by the Lord's servants." Dima had a tomboyish energy about her, though her appearance was youthful and cute.

"Good." Cara turned to the Maiden who was still 'looking' out of the window. "My lady? Our Lord awaits."

The Maiden didn't answer. She could already feel it coming from inside somewhere. His presence. A Demon Lord.

Feeling. How odd that Maidens meant to judge and manage without emotion would be able to feel so much. One of many aspects of her existence that she simple did not understand. Yet, it was tradition that she should keep those thoughts to herself, and do as the King had devised.

"My lady..?" Rhea reached out, stopping herself as the Maiden turned away from the window and over to the open door. Ahead, a manor. Large, marbled. A place fit for the heroes that roamed the endless fields, should they ever feel themselves free of their guilt. A hopeless endeavor. Extravagance she was all blind too.

She made her way out, extending to her full height. Cara was the tallest among the maids, hear head still only reaching the Maiden's high cheek. Rhea's pudgy self hardly stood taller than five and a half feet, and Dima was a hair under 5 foot. All three maids formed a barrier around the Maiden, walking at precisely her steady, almost hovering pace. The Lord's servants, warriors, and most loyal watched them ascend the steps to the manor door. The maids clad in dark, form-fitting gowns. The Maiden in her pristine white.

As she entered his halls, she was curious what this Lord was like in person. She knew of him, Vanerius, Lord of Elysium. She'd crossed the very river Styx to reach his realm. Lord of fallen warriors, of myths and legends, of odyssey and Iliad. Yet, she wanted to know more, deeper. He who would gift her a home, safety, and a name.

The doors to his throne room opened, the main hall laid out with a red carpet leading up to his lofty seat. No, she could not see, but she felt him. His gaze upon her. An unfair advantage, for she could not gaze upon him in return.

They flowed gracefully up to him, stopping at an appropriate visit. The Maiden did not speak, Cara clearing her throat as she stepped beside, though just behind the Maiden.

"Lord of Elysium. Bequeathed unto you and your realm, a Lady Maiden marked by King of Sin. To judge, and never see. To know, and never tell. To have, and never hold. Impartial, empirical, arbitrator."

Cara, Rhea, and Dima all knelt before the Lord, a half curtsy in their practiced movements as the Maiden stepped closer to Venarius and spoke.

"A name, Lord, as is… custom." Tradition. A Maiden's handbook.

She'd grown tired of reading it.

 

[SomethingSecret]

Moments after he'd begun to lounge upon his throne, they entered. Vanerius maintained an illusion of being carefree, knowing full well that while the Maiden couldn't see him with her eyes, she surely would sense him, possibly his thoughts as well. Such had been the case with previous Maidens, and he had no reason to suspect they might be different. In their impartiality, the Maidens were so uniform that in his eyes they may as well all have been one entity. Yet there was a wrinkle with this thought, he knew: why then were the Maidens cycled in and out of realms from time to time? He'd always wondered, but never given it much thought... not until this Maiden entered, and Vanerius perked his head up to gaze at his guest, even propping himself up slightly on one elbow.

The maid's attache were of course the first ones to speak. Yet Vanerius couldn't contain the smirk upon his lips as he thought he sensed irritation from the Maiden as she stepped forward, silencing them and instead speaking herself, with a particularly delicious pause as she declared the act he was expected to perform.

"Welcome, servants of the Wicked King, he who is Sin itself. Welcome to Elysium, The Hollowed Land, where the fallen heroes rest. Welcome, indeed..."

All around them, figures lay in shadows in poses not too dissimilar from his own. Some were clung to by the women in white robes, others sat in solitude. All were downcast, staring at the floor with shadowy faces, or stared wistfully out windows, the lights of hope and ambition having long left their eyes.

"I suppose you do need a name, don't you?" he said. "How very like a Maiden to get straight to business. Very well," Vanerius said, rising from his throne, leaving behind his spear and shield. He took a few steps forward, as the nearby servants all fell to the floor, bowing as though he was their god.

Walking forward, Vanerius held his arms to the sides, simultaneously welcoming, yet displaying his power and dominion. Again, however, he knew it was to a faceless audience. "First, an introduction... I am the Forlorn Lord, He Who Heroes Fear to Become, The Fallen Master... these are but my titles, however. I am Vanerius, Lord of the Demon Realm of Elysium, a fact I'm sure you already knew... but then, life is so much better with presentation, is it not? As for the matter of your name..."

He stepped forward, closing the remaining distance between them. The two of them towered over their subordinates, yet the only thing to tower over the Maiden was Vanerius himself, a fact which he relished, visibly grinning.

"What shall I call you, I wonder? Prithee, by this impromptu council shall we decide together... I shall suggest the first name. There is a woman in a small yet beautiful stone structure you may meet as you pass through this realm. She is eternally alone. Do you know why? She has a terrible gift: she can see all that which will happen if events never change. A powerful gift... only, while she was in the realm of men, no one ever believed her. Her name... is Cassandra. Do you think that fitting, Maiden?" he asked, then chuckling. "Will you advise me, only for me to never listen, no matter how truthful? Surely you would be insulted by such a name..."

 

[MadiTheWitch]

There was no mistaking the man before her. If those demon's and spirits dotted all around them were each a flame of vitality, then Venarius was the sun warming the each of the infinite golden fields within his realm. A resplendent, overbearing presence that leered down at her mightily, for he was the only one who could looked at her from such an angle.

Yet, despite how intimidating a force and Demon Lord he was, she needed to be like the cool breeze—carrying the burden of balancing that incessant warmth. The Maiden stood her ground, not bothered by his stare, and did not kneel as all others would for him. It was what she was meant to do, to be. A figure standing in the shadows, waiting, watching. Never at his beck and call, but always there to question, pry, and pass judgment. A tool not of the Demon Lords, but of the Demon King.

Simply put, she served a higher power. Thus, it was her right to stand before the lessers of her true… master.

The word was like dirt in her mouth.

"Not like, my Lord. I am a Maiden, you are a Lord. It is what you are supposed to do, isn't it?"

Presentation. Him, a storied brute. But then, Brutus was as much an orator as he was an assassin. Perhaps Vanerius was adept with both pen and sword as a leader of demons. She'd find out soon enough, though she held many doubts.

Not that she should have. Impartiality, and all, but she'd never wanted to come to a place like Elysium. Warriors and their kind were so often… regimented. Idealists with a singular focus on a single task. Commands, principles, and worst of all: Duty. How she hated duty. Detested those who put duty over logic, thought, and common sense. She had figured he would that way. Too dedicated to the task at hand to think for himself. The gloomy spirits left to ponder on their self-induced demise seemed to indicate he was as she imagined. Yet, meeting him, having the actual Demon in front of her, his energy was altogether different. She could pry, would pry eventually. See into the deep and dark crevices that he kept hidden for just himself. Without reason, however, she could face punishment for prying within his mind. Just his mind. Others were a non-issue. Though it wasn't likely she'd get much. Hers were a mediocre ability to see within a person's mind. Her strengths lied elsewhere, within the confines of her own supremely developed mental acuity.

He was smiling, grinning at her. She could feel the hot breath even from the distance that he towered over her. And out from that grin came a most taunting strung-together tale. And it was more the insult that he would dare explain the significance to her, as if she did not know all that which he could ever fit inside his muscle-strangled skull. Oh, if she had eyes that could see, then they'd surely see red.

"An… Insult?" She thought over her words carefully, but spoke them confidently all the same. "No, Lord, such that you would not fault a spear for failing to block like a shield." She pointed directly at each of his spear and shield, left behind, with precise accuracy.

"It is not the failure on said occasion that proves to be the real issue, but the root of the failure. If you would, perhaps a suggestion?"

She tilted her head back slightly to face him more directly, more for his benefit than hers.

"Antigone. Surely, you know of her? A princess who only wanted one thing, a proper burial for her dead brother. But, fate wouldn't have it so. The King's orders forbade it. But she defied the King, all on her lonesome. She buried the past, and in return, was buried alive. Oh, but the King lived to regret his choice, once sense and reason returned to him. But it was too late, because even when faced with certain death, Antigone took that right for herself as well, and all around him the King's family crumbled as a result." The Maiden paused, staring directly into Vanerius's eyes, yet not staring at all.

"Perhaps a little over the top, I agree, but when men don't listen, a Maiden must make herself heard regardless."

Sheer and utter defiance. To Lord, or King, was the question.

 

[SomethingSecret]

As soon as the Maiden began to answer him, a familiar sensation swept over the Demon Lord. A tingling in his veins, a quickening of the pulse of his black heart. Each word was carefully selected, chosen for specific purpose for each parry, each thrust. For a moment he wondered just what it was that had come over him, as the heat of his fiendish rage began to rise from within him. And as she repeated a tale from the world of his own pantheon, having clearly been more well-versed and more well-prepared for this than he could have ever anticipated based on the dispassion of previous Maidens. His eyes flashed with new purpose, for he knew precisely what was going on. This was a duel, and she had just struck the first blow.

"A Maiden, named after one who abandoned tradition, king, and country..."

He began to circle her, stroking his chin with blackened nails, pulling over bronze-colored flesh which mocked the very heroes who were trapped in his realm. Red orbs glared intently at this new foe, as unblinking as the Maiden's as he maintained focus.

"Do you intend to see me brought low before our King, then? If I will not bow to you, then the Lord of Elysium will surely kneel at last to his Sinful Sovereign..."

Upon reaching her front side again, he lunged forward suddenly, wrapping his hand tightly around her throat, applying just enough pressure that there would be no obstruction, but enough that there was no mistake of his intent, and the danger he surely posed to her. He closed the rest of the distance, his face mere inches from hers, looking down at her and marveling at her unflinching resolve.

"Make no mistake, White Witch," he said. "For though you serve our mutual master, I would sooner bring myself before the Hateful Accord and be punished until the death of the many suns before I let such insolence reign in my court. No matter how badly they may wish to, I can kill you faster than any unholy enforcer can reach us... and yet..."

Slowly, he released the grip upon her neck, taking but a single step back. His hand was back on his chin again, narrowing his eyes at her as though he might at last glean something.

"You wish to be heard," he said, remembering the end of her little speech. "And what you have said has not fallen on deaf ears. No Cassandra will you be. But neither, I think, do you make for an Antigone. And since you know the tales of my realm, there is but one more name I can think to suggest, now. A name which I hope will resonate with the intended effect..."

His lips curled into a new smile, this one proud, confident. Brave, even, perhaps.

"Medea," he said, his voice dripping with the power of his station. "Tell me, White Witch... how fares such a name for this Maiden?"