Der Hölle Rache (Odin Sphere, PG)
Der Hölle Rache
by volta arovet
an Odin Sphere Queen Odette backstory with Swan Lake leanings
Rating: PG
Warnings: pregame, game-appropriate violence/situations, knowledge of Swan Lake suggested
Word count: 1900
for newgameplus
There once was a princess who drowned. She sank into the water, watching the light fade away above her, and she sank, and she sank, until her back hit the bottom of the lake. She lay there as her hair twisted and curled in the tangled reeds, and the little fish pecked and tore at her bare arms and back, and her beautiful, white wedding dress grew dark as the lake’s silt floor.
She lay there, waiting to be found, until the silt covered her eyes and the light faded, and then, with a sigh, let go of her body and sank farther still into the ground. It was dark, where she knelt, so much so that she couldn’t see her hands braced on the cold, damp rock of the underground cavern. There was a light in the distance, too far to illuminate anything. She stumbled to her feet.
She ran towards the light, the lace hem of her skirts catching on the rough ground. Her bare feet were battered and torn, and there were invisible things floating in the air, grasping at her hair and arms, and she could not brush them away, no matter how she tried.
Her foot hit a soft spot on the ground, and she stumbled, surprised at the angered squeak she heard from under the ground. She felt for the soft spot and thumped it with her fist, catching the hidden creature as neatly as she did the carrot beasts of home. The creature struggled in her arms, twisting furiously, and when it chirped, it glowed with a strange, soft light.
She hadn’t an ether to soak the beast in, so she remembered the words the old witch has spoken to her, and used a stone to slit it from belly to chin, its shining juice spilling out from the wound and coating her hands. They glowed softly now, enough for her to see that the discarded rind of the creature was purple, and enough to see that the things pulling at her hair were spirits.
“Don’t touch me!” she commanded with a princess’s air. She batted at their fingers, and found that her glowing hands had more of an effect this time. The spirits backed away a bit, humming to each other in a strange, high-pitched language. She hefted her skirts and continued walking towards the light, the green spirits following her like disheveled handmaidens.
As she neared the light, she saw it was from a candelabra, set near a hooded figure. His head raised as the princess drew near, and though she could not see his face, she had the sense that under the hood, he was smiling at her. “I can give you poison, if you like,” he said, in a voice like crumbling earth. “Or perhaps a knife, to coat with it.” He peered closer at her face. “Or perhaps…”
He lifted his chest and removed a cloth-wrapped item from it. It contained a napple, shriveled to the point where even the seed would never produce life again. He held it to his nose and breathed in deeply. “A rare find, a rare find indeed. Would you care for a taste?”
The princess drew back, even as her hand reached for the fruit. “What is the cost?” she asked.
The merchant leaned in even closer. “The cost is simply to see you eat it,” he hissed, voice low and intimate. “To see, and let me remember what it is like to taste.”
“I do not…”
“Leave her be,” a woman commanded. The princess turned with a start and saw a stately woman, her face half in shadow.
The merchant clutched the napple to his chest as he bowed repeatedly. “Many apologies, my queen. I did not know she was yours.”
“You are all mine,” the queen corrected. “All in this land, and all in the lands above, though they may not know it yet.”
“Yes. Of course, my queen. Forgive my presumption,” the merchant said, bowing even more deeply. The queen dismissed him with a wave, and he hurried off as quickly as he could while carrying his chest of treasures.
“Ah, my dear,” the queen said, and ran a blackened hand through the princess’s hair. When she turned, the princess could see that she was not in shadow, but half of her body was dark as night, like coal after the spark of fire had left. “My poor dear. I am Queen Hel, ruler of this land. For whatever reason have you come here?”
The princess curtsied as best she could, her bony fingers plucking at her skirts. “I died, your majesty.”
The queen laughed. It was a soft, twisting sound, like wind rushing through a fire. “Of course you did. But you are so bright, and you cling so tightly to life, so tightly you still hold a bit of that spark within you. Why have you come to this place, then, where spirits are punished?”
“I do not know, your majesty. I only know that I was to be married, and I died, and I found myself here.”
“Oh, my poor, poor dear,” Queen Hel said again, brushing her hand through the princess’s hair once again. Each flex of the queen’s hand made a small sound, like clay cracking in the sun. “Life has been so cruel to you. Shall death, then, choose to be more kind?”
“If that is your wish, your majesty,” the princess said, curtsying again, her gaze trained on the floor.
“It is my wish,” the queen said indulgently, her hand moving from the princess’s hair to down her spine, brushing over each exposed knob of bone. “I will give you a gift. Is there anyone you wish to see in the land of the living?”
“Yes,” the princess said, eyes rising to meet the queen’s. “Prince Siegfried. He was to be my husband. I…”
“Then go to him,” the queen said and, with a wave of her good hand, summoned a tiny spirit, a wispy thing like flame turning in the wind. “Follow this spirit. It will guide you to your prince. You may…comfort him in his loss.”
“Thank you, your majesty, thank you,” the princess said, and then there was no more time for thanks. The flame spirit grabbed her hand and, with a sharp tug, carried her up through the air until she was moving so quickly, she had to close her eyes, and then, with a start, she was in the land of the living.
She was at the lake by the castle. Of course she remembered this place-it was where she had met the prince. It was where she died. She looked down to see her appearance changed to that of a white swan, graceful and strong. There, sitting at the side of the water, was her prince.
“Thank you, kind spirit,” the princess said to the fire spirit.
“Ehehe, tis but a ripe thing,” it giggled inanely, and disappeared.
She swam to the prince’s side and noted how brave he looked in the face of tragedy, how stalwart his shoulders and steady his hands. “Hello, friend,” the prince said, his voice light and sweet. “I haven’t any bread for you, but I have none for myself, either, so do not think me ungenerous.”
She ducked her head and swam closer, marveling at the warmth of the prince’s heart, despite his hidden despair.
“Ah, do you think me an intruder in your domain?” the prince asked. “As much as the castle is my own, the lake is equally yours. I know how quick you are to leap to battle for what is yours, as I am much the same. Pray, let us share the shore, and be content in that.”
She swam to the water’s edge and settled at the prince’s side, resting her head on his lap.
“What strange gift is this?” the prince laughed, doing his best not to startle the swan despite his surprise. “My sweet bird, are you ill? I have never known one of your kind to show affection. What curious spell has charmed you?”
The princess simply sat there, reveling in the feel of the prince’s warmth against her long, pressing neck.
“My dear Odette!” the prince cried, and the princess’s heart soared with love.
“Yes, my love?” another girl answered. The princess raised her head, craning it about to see a beautiful, fair woman walking towards the shore.
“See this strange, sweet swan!” the prince said, motioning to the princess swan. “Do you suppose it has been charmed by our true love?”
“That is not a tale I have heard spoken before,” she said, sitting at the prince’s other side and taking his hand in her own. “And yet, I do not doubt it.”
The princess reared back, flapping her wings in fury, hissing at the girl that had taken her place, at the prince who had forgotten her. “What is it doing?” the girl cried as the prince told her to stay safely behind him.
Have you replaced me so easily? the princess accused, her wings growing larger, more skeletal, matching her arms in the underground world.
“Stay back!” the prince yelled, holding his sword between them.
Have you forgotten me? the princess asked, growing larger still. The skies above her grew dark, and skeletal fish rose from the lake.
“I warn thee, demon, I will not still my sword!” the prince shouted in defiance.
The princess laughed at that, cold and dark, and the skeletal fish darted in to peck at the girl’s flesh, as they had eaten the princess’s while she lay at the bottom of the lake. The prince swung desperately at them, sword passing through each ghost without pause. He turned, instead, to the princess, and slashed once at her bosom.
You would kill me once more? she asked, and the prince grew still, his eyes widening in true terror.
“You!” He gasped. “Od-“
“Do not call me that name!” the princess screamed, and she did not know or care what happened next, save that it stopped the prince from speaking.
The underworld seemed less dark, when next she visited. The skeletal fish remained her companions, and they seemed to charm the green spirits who followed in her wake. She walked with a more assured step, grinding the tiny purple cubsbane under her feet when she needed the light. She walked, unerringly, to Queen Hel.
“Did you enjoy my gift?” Queen Hel asked, charred hand brushing against the princess’s cheek.
The princess curtsied gracefully, her skeletal fingers pinching her skirts with the utmost delicacy. “It was most generous, my queen.”
“And did you manage some comfort from the visit?” the queen asked.
“Comfort was attained,” she said.
“I am glad.” The queen reached out to toy with one of the spirit fish. “Your new companions are quite charming, and you have been very interesting. It is a special thing, to interest me in these days when everything is so terribly tiresome.”
“I am honored, my queen,” the princess said.
“You have the potential. Perhaps one day, when this world becomes too tiresome to endure, you may become queen. It is such a waste to end things as merely a princess, wouldn’t you say, Princess Odile?”
“Odette,” the princess corrected, her eyes modestly lowered. “Princess Odette, your majesty.”
by volta arovet
an Odin Sphere Queen Odette backstory with Swan Lake leanings
Rating: PG
Warnings: pregame, game-appropriate violence/situations, knowledge of Swan Lake suggested
Word count: 1900
for newgameplus
There once was a princess who drowned. She sank into the water, watching the light fade away above her, and she sank, and she sank, until her back hit the bottom of the lake. She lay there as her hair twisted and curled in the tangled reeds, and the little fish pecked and tore at her bare arms and back, and her beautiful, white wedding dress grew dark as the lake’s silt floor.
She lay there, waiting to be found, until the silt covered her eyes and the light faded, and then, with a sigh, let go of her body and sank farther still into the ground. It was dark, where she knelt, so much so that she couldn’t see her hands braced on the cold, damp rock of the underground cavern. There was a light in the distance, too far to illuminate anything. She stumbled to her feet.
She ran towards the light, the lace hem of her skirts catching on the rough ground. Her bare feet were battered and torn, and there were invisible things floating in the air, grasping at her hair and arms, and she could not brush them away, no matter how she tried.
Her foot hit a soft spot on the ground, and she stumbled, surprised at the angered squeak she heard from under the ground. She felt for the soft spot and thumped it with her fist, catching the hidden creature as neatly as she did the carrot beasts of home. The creature struggled in her arms, twisting furiously, and when it chirped, it glowed with a strange, soft light.
She hadn’t an ether to soak the beast in, so she remembered the words the old witch has spoken to her, and used a stone to slit it from belly to chin, its shining juice spilling out from the wound and coating her hands. They glowed softly now, enough for her to see that the discarded rind of the creature was purple, and enough to see that the things pulling at her hair were spirits.
“Don’t touch me!” she commanded with a princess’s air. She batted at their fingers, and found that her glowing hands had more of an effect this time. The spirits backed away a bit, humming to each other in a strange, high-pitched language. She hefted her skirts and continued walking towards the light, the green spirits following her like disheveled handmaidens.
As she neared the light, she saw it was from a candelabra, set near a hooded figure. His head raised as the princess drew near, and though she could not see his face, she had the sense that under the hood, he was smiling at her. “I can give you poison, if you like,” he said, in a voice like crumbling earth. “Or perhaps a knife, to coat with it.” He peered closer at her face. “Or perhaps…”
He lifted his chest and removed a cloth-wrapped item from it. It contained a napple, shriveled to the point where even the seed would never produce life again. He held it to his nose and breathed in deeply. “A rare find, a rare find indeed. Would you care for a taste?”
The princess drew back, even as her hand reached for the fruit. “What is the cost?” she asked.
The merchant leaned in even closer. “The cost is simply to see you eat it,” he hissed, voice low and intimate. “To see, and let me remember what it is like to taste.”
“I do not…”
“Leave her be,” a woman commanded. The princess turned with a start and saw a stately woman, her face half in shadow.
The merchant clutched the napple to his chest as he bowed repeatedly. “Many apologies, my queen. I did not know she was yours.”
“You are all mine,” the queen corrected. “All in this land, and all in the lands above, though they may not know it yet.”
“Yes. Of course, my queen. Forgive my presumption,” the merchant said, bowing even more deeply. The queen dismissed him with a wave, and he hurried off as quickly as he could while carrying his chest of treasures.
“Ah, my dear,” the queen said, and ran a blackened hand through the princess’s hair. When she turned, the princess could see that she was not in shadow, but half of her body was dark as night, like coal after the spark of fire had left. “My poor dear. I am Queen Hel, ruler of this land. For whatever reason have you come here?”
The princess curtsied as best she could, her bony fingers plucking at her skirts. “I died, your majesty.”
The queen laughed. It was a soft, twisting sound, like wind rushing through a fire. “Of course you did. But you are so bright, and you cling so tightly to life, so tightly you still hold a bit of that spark within you. Why have you come to this place, then, where spirits are punished?”
“I do not know, your majesty. I only know that I was to be married, and I died, and I found myself here.”
“Oh, my poor, poor dear,” Queen Hel said again, brushing her hand through the princess’s hair once again. Each flex of the queen’s hand made a small sound, like clay cracking in the sun. “Life has been so cruel to you. Shall death, then, choose to be more kind?”
“If that is your wish, your majesty,” the princess said, curtsying again, her gaze trained on the floor.
“It is my wish,” the queen said indulgently, her hand moving from the princess’s hair to down her spine, brushing over each exposed knob of bone. “I will give you a gift. Is there anyone you wish to see in the land of the living?”
“Yes,” the princess said, eyes rising to meet the queen’s. “Prince Siegfried. He was to be my husband. I…”
“Then go to him,” the queen said and, with a wave of her good hand, summoned a tiny spirit, a wispy thing like flame turning in the wind. “Follow this spirit. It will guide you to your prince. You may…comfort him in his loss.”
“Thank you, your majesty, thank you,” the princess said, and then there was no more time for thanks. The flame spirit grabbed her hand and, with a sharp tug, carried her up through the air until she was moving so quickly, she had to close her eyes, and then, with a start, she was in the land of the living.
She was at the lake by the castle. Of course she remembered this place-it was where she had met the prince. It was where she died. She looked down to see her appearance changed to that of a white swan, graceful and strong. There, sitting at the side of the water, was her prince.
“Thank you, kind spirit,” the princess said to the fire spirit.
“Ehehe, tis but a ripe thing,” it giggled inanely, and disappeared.
She swam to the prince’s side and noted how brave he looked in the face of tragedy, how stalwart his shoulders and steady his hands. “Hello, friend,” the prince said, his voice light and sweet. “I haven’t any bread for you, but I have none for myself, either, so do not think me ungenerous.”
She ducked her head and swam closer, marveling at the warmth of the prince’s heart, despite his hidden despair.
“Ah, do you think me an intruder in your domain?” the prince asked. “As much as the castle is my own, the lake is equally yours. I know how quick you are to leap to battle for what is yours, as I am much the same. Pray, let us share the shore, and be content in that.”
She swam to the water’s edge and settled at the prince’s side, resting her head on his lap.
“What strange gift is this?” the prince laughed, doing his best not to startle the swan despite his surprise. “My sweet bird, are you ill? I have never known one of your kind to show affection. What curious spell has charmed you?”
The princess simply sat there, reveling in the feel of the prince’s warmth against her long, pressing neck.
“My dear Odette!” the prince cried, and the princess’s heart soared with love.
“Yes, my love?” another girl answered. The princess raised her head, craning it about to see a beautiful, fair woman walking towards the shore.
“See this strange, sweet swan!” the prince said, motioning to the princess swan. “Do you suppose it has been charmed by our true love?”
“That is not a tale I have heard spoken before,” she said, sitting at the prince’s other side and taking his hand in her own. “And yet, I do not doubt it.”
The princess reared back, flapping her wings in fury, hissing at the girl that had taken her place, at the prince who had forgotten her. “What is it doing?” the girl cried as the prince told her to stay safely behind him.
Have you replaced me so easily? the princess accused, her wings growing larger, more skeletal, matching her arms in the underground world.
“Stay back!” the prince yelled, holding his sword between them.
Have you forgotten me? the princess asked, growing larger still. The skies above her grew dark, and skeletal fish rose from the lake.
“I warn thee, demon, I will not still my sword!” the prince shouted in defiance.
The princess laughed at that, cold and dark, and the skeletal fish darted in to peck at the girl’s flesh, as they had eaten the princess’s while she lay at the bottom of the lake. The prince swung desperately at them, sword passing through each ghost without pause. He turned, instead, to the princess, and slashed once at her bosom.
You would kill me once more? she asked, and the prince grew still, his eyes widening in true terror.
“You!” He gasped. “Od-“
“Do not call me that name!” the princess screamed, and she did not know or care what happened next, save that it stopped the prince from speaking.
The underworld seemed less dark, when next she visited. The skeletal fish remained her companions, and they seemed to charm the green spirits who followed in her wake. She walked with a more assured step, grinding the tiny purple cubsbane under her feet when she needed the light. She walked, unerringly, to Queen Hel.
“Did you enjoy my gift?” Queen Hel asked, charred hand brushing against the princess’s cheek.
The princess curtsied gracefully, her skeletal fingers pinching her skirts with the utmost delicacy. “It was most generous, my queen.”
“And did you manage some comfort from the visit?” the queen asked.
“Comfort was attained,” she said.
“I am glad.” The queen reached out to toy with one of the spirit fish. “Your new companions are quite charming, and you have been very interesting. It is a special thing, to interest me in these days when everything is so terribly tiresome.”
“I am honored, my queen,” the princess said.
“You have the potential. Perhaps one day, when this world becomes too tiresome to endure, you may become queen. It is such a waste to end things as merely a princess, wouldn’t you say, Princess Odile?”
“Odette,” the princess corrected, her eyes modestly lowered. “Princess Odette, your majesty.”