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Apr. 5th, 2008 01:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maculategiraffeMore of my old Wonder Girl fic :P
OK, OK, so nobody here gives a shit about Wonder Girl, but comment and improve my mood anyway. *pitiful puss-in-boots eyes*
(I also accept comments along the lines of "nobody cares, post more Lee." Just so there are comments! I need distraction!)
Title: A Matter For the Goddess, OR, Babysitter of Themyscira!
Fandom: JLA/Teen Titans
Summary: Alternate universe. After the events of Infinite Crisis, Wonder Woman took Wonder Girl (Cassie Sandsmark) back to Themyscira to recover from the Crisis and from the death of Superboy (Conner Kent). Four years later, Cassie has built a life for herself on Themyscira. When Diana, still acting as Wonder Woman, brings back a homeless waif to Cassie's adopted home, Cassie is furious, until drastic action by Queen Hippolyta forces her into a closer understanding of her visitor's demons.
Rating: R for language and concepts.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
CHAPTER THREE
"What would happen if you told me to do something I couldn't normally do?" he asked, that night over dinner.
I looked up from picking at my overdone spinach– I never have much of an appetite, especially when I've inadvertently acquired absolute power over a complete stranger and had him installed in my home. He didn't seem to have much of an appetite either– at least not for my cooking. I get along, but I wasn't exactly proud to dump the mess I get along on in front of a guest. I appreciated his not whining, though I guessed I should already credit him with better sense than to bitch, considering that I could tell him to eat his own hand and he'd have to do it.
Honestly, though, he looked like he could use some meat, and I never cook it. I don't so much have vegetarian principles as– considering my natural skill at cookery– I have anti-trichinosis and anti-salmonella principles. Maybe I could get one of the neighbors to fry him a steak or whatever you do.
He was looking at me nervously. Belatedly I registered what he'd asked.
"Like what?" I asked. "You mean like... if I told you to fly, or become invisible?"
"Yeah, or... well, I was thinking of your language." He got a bit more animated when he saw I was interested. "What if you told me to understand it? Do you think I would? Because, I mean, you said I forgot something on command, and I shouldn't have been able to do that, should I? Maybe it... makes things happen."
"I dunno," I said, but I was intrigued. "You don't miss a trick, do you? Want me to try?"
"Sure," he said, putting his fork down. "Worth a shot."
I went over to the bookshelf and grabbed the first Greek-language book I saw, which was Sappho's poetry. Heh. "Here, open it up so we know– okay." He looked up expectantly, the book propped open in front of him. "Now know how to read Greek."
His face changed instantly, interested expectation falling away into pure horror. "I can't!"
"What's wrong?" I said, startled.
"I'm sorry, Cassie, please, I really can't, please, please–" Tears were pouring down his face.
"Jesus Christ!" I gasped. "It's okay, you don't have to! I don't– you don't have to understand Greek! Is that– are you okay?"
He was shaking as he looked up at me. "It– thank you– I'm sorry–"
"Ian, honey!" The same unthinking instinct made me offer the endearment and bend down to put my arms around him, and he leaned against me, breathing hard. "What happened?"
"It hurt," he whispered. "It felt like... it felt like fucking detox, and at the same time I felt... guilty, like I'd fucking killed someone, I felt like I was going to die if I couldn't..."
"Oh, God." I stroked his hair. "I'm so sorry, Ian. I didn't– I had no idea it would do that to you."
"It was my idea," he said, muffled against me.
"I know. We didn't know."
He looked up at me miserably. "Rob used to– when I pissed him off– when I was jonesing– he wouldn't give me– but this was worse, this was– Cassie, please, I don't care what you tell me to do as long as it's something I can do, but please please even if I piss you off really badly don't..."
"Ian, of course I won't, don't be... This is so fucked up. Look, are you feeling up to seeing Hippolyta again?"
He pulled away, looking even more scared than before, if that were possible. "The– the queen? Why?"
"Because I'm not supposed to leave you alone, and I've got a few choice things to say to her about the nature of this binding." I spat out the last word in Greek, and he startled, which gave me an idea.
I said quickly in Greek, "Drum your fingers on the table," and he just looked at me. So he'd only obey if he understood the order– which presumably meant he'd obey the order as he understood it. I guessed that made sense, but... why the hell hadn't Hippolyta explained the parameters of the binding more clearly? And why hadn't I asked before?
"Sorry," I said, switching back to English. "So will you come with me?"
"Do I have a choice?" he asked bleakly.
"Yes, goddammit," I said. "I mean, yes, you do. I just accidentally zapped the hell out of you and you look like death warmed over. You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to, especially not to see the bitch who put this weird-ass voodoo hex on you in the first place."
He was still pale and tense, but for a second I thought I saw him smile.
"Okay," he said. "I'll go."
"Aphrodite's bindings," I informed the queen in a perfectly grammatical Greek sentence I had spent half the walk over formulating, "should come with a sent-to-Tartarus-by-the-gods-for-hubris instruction book."
"Really," she said, lifting an eyebrow as she set her knife and fork daintily down on her plate. She was dining alone tonight, as I usually did, a book propped open by her plate. I hadn't knocked. "It seemed a fairly straightforward binding to me."
"Well, it is not straightforward, my queen," I said, scowling, as she arose and came towards us. Ian moved a little closer to me. "I ordered him to be able to understand Greek."
"What?" The queen looked puzzled. "How could he obey such an order?"
"I had already ordered him to forget something. We thought maybe that was– how the spell worked, that it made a thing happen."
"It is well within the capacity of a normal human mind to voluntarily forget a puzzling incident," she said, as if I were stupid. "Not so to acquire a new language so abruptly. You should not have used your power so. It probably caused him some distress."
"Distress!" I gestured expressively towards Ian, who looked down. "He went crazy! Shaking, crying, pleading!"
"Really," said Hippolyta again, interested.
"Yes, really! He said it hurt! Look at him, all white and hurt still!"
"He looks well enough to me," she said. "The distress ended, did it not, once you withdrew the order?"
"That is not the point," I gritted. "Why did you– you weaved a punishment into the binding? For what need? Why punish him if he cannot obey?"
"It is not a matter of punishment, Cassandra," said the queen calmly. "I am a priestess of Aphrodite, and the bonds of Aphrodite are the bonds of love. Were your father to lay a binding on a young man, it would– and," she added parenthetically and with acid disapproval, "frequently does– take the form of a physical compulsion to do his will. Were Athena to do the same, the binding would make it appear above all things reasonable, rational and intelligent to pursue precisely the course of action recommended by Athena. Aphrodite is goddess of love and desire, and the nature of her bindings is accordingly unique."
"Oimoi," I said, feeling sick, and lowering my voice even though I knew Ian couldn't understand. "Are you saying he is in love with me?"
"No, Cassandra," said the queen disapprovingly. "I am saying that obedience– submission to the will of the beloved– is a natural aspect of love, and to bind to obedience by the power of Aphrodite is to bind to the obedience of love. He does not love you, but his obedience mimics love in that I have caused him to value submission to your commands above all things, even above the love of his own life."
"That is sick, my queen," I hissed.
She ignored me. "A corresponding distress at an inability to obey would naturally follow, although I would not have expected it to be so powerful as you describe. Could you demonstrate for me?"
"No!" I snapped furiously. "You cannot understand. It was– horrible. I promised him not to do it again."
"And yet you come to me seeking advice and, perhaps, remedy," Hippolyta said coolly, "which I certainly cannot grant without understanding the situation fully."
"Cassie?" said Ian softly. I looked quickly back into his worried face. "Your eyes shot sparks again. Does she want to see me naked, too?"
"She wants me to do it again," I told him in English, smiling a little. "Order you to do something you can't do, so she can– see what it does to you. But I won't," I added quickly. "I said I wouldn't."
He nodded. "Will she– do you think she might– fix it?"
"Maybe," I said softly. "She said it shouldn't have hurt you as much as it did. But–"
"Then do it," he said quickly, and when I started to protest, "Just... Cassie, will you–"
"What?" I asked. "Can I do anything to make it easier?"
"Well, earlier, when you–" He blushed. "When you put your arms around me, I felt... it made it.... I'm not asking you to do that again, but if you could be touching me just a little– maybe holding my hand?"
"Of course," I said, my stomach churning, and went to him, taking both his hands in mine. "He is willing, my queen, because he is a brave young man. Watch well. I will not do this again. Are you ready?"
The mantle of Aphrodite descended. Ian's grip tightened as the air seemed to heat up slightly around us. "Speak, Cassandra. And do not withdraw your order until I give the word."
I looked into Ian's eyes. "I can't stop it once I start, not until she–"
"Do it," he said fiercely.
"Turn yourself invisible."
Tears instantly welled in his eyes and spilled over. He was trying to control his face, but it was bone white and anguished, and his hands were so tight on mine that I winced myself with the pain.
"I can't," he said. "Please, I really can't. Please. Forgive me. Please, I'm sorry, I would if I could, I want to, I just, please, oh, Jesus Christ, please, Cassie–" His voice was building to a scream.
"Make him be silent," the queen said briskly, as blue lightning crackled gently in the air around Ian and me.
"Hush," I said softly, looking into Ian's tear-blurred green eyes, and his voice cut off in mid-entreaty as if I'd hit the mute button, his face twisting in agony. In another second he was on his knees, his hands still tightly held in mine, his head bowed low, his nails digging into my hands.
"Enough," said Hippolyta after a few more eternal seconds.
"Ian, don't turn yourself invisible," I said loudly and clearly and so fast it all sounded like one word. He sagged in my grip, shaking silently.
"And make as much noise as you want!" I added, dropping to my knees and yanking him into a fierce hug as the sudden noise of his retching and sobbing hit me like a slap. He wept, choking, on my shoulder while I clutched him to me, wishing my eyes could actually shoot sparks at Hippolyta, who had gotten shorter again and was staring at us pensively.
"That should not have happened," she said.
"Most perspicacious, my queen," I gritted. "Ian, sweetie, are you okay? Say something."
"Something," he gasped, and I didn't know if he was being snarky or just perfectly obedient. "Tell me I'm okay, please, Cassie, tell me I did well–"
I swallowed hard. "You did well. You did– amazing. You were so strong and– and brave, Ian."
"What did he ask of you?" Hippolyta demanded, as Ian sighed softly. "What are you saying that soothes him so?"
I translated irritably, Ian lying still and relaxed in my arms. Hippolyta's eyes widened, and she muttered something under her breath.
"He must be a particularly susceptible subject," she said out loud. "Perhaps more than usually fearful of the displeasure of an authority figure–"
"Oh, you think?" I snarled in English, and Hippolyta poked up an eyebrow at the same time Ian looked up, his face wet with tears. "Hey, don't tell me. Shooting sparks again. Sorry. Not at you."
As I rocked him– that motion must be born into women, I've seen babysitters do it with kids they didn't give a shit about if the kids had bumped their heads– Hippolyta came and knelt down beside the two of us. She placed a hand on my head and I felt a gentle crackling as she used the power of Aphrodite to read my responses. There was plenty to read right then, too. I'm surprised her little Geiger counter or whatever didn't shoot sparks itself.
"You, too, child..." she whispered. "Either my powers are greater than I ever knew, or– I must speak of this to the goddess when she descends."
"What about now?" I demanded.
"Now?" she repeated absently, then looked up at me. "Now you will take him home, and look after him until the goddess arrives. Was that not the charge you accepted?"
"But, my queen–"
"You will not damage him," she said more gently. "Not more than he is damaged already. Go, my child. And if his distress pains you so, instruct him to forget all that has passed here. You will find him willing enough."
"No," I said between my teeth. "He is not an-- an Etch A Sketch, my queen, for me to shake him and undo what has been done."
"What is an Etch A Sketch?" Hippolyta asked, puzzled.
Ian suddenly gave a damp, choked, brief laugh.
"I still don't understand anything you're saying," he said, "but there's a Greek word that sounds an awful lot like 'Etch A Sketch.'"
OK, OK, so nobody here gives a shit about Wonder Girl, but comment and improve my mood anyway. *pitiful puss-in-boots eyes*
(I also accept comments along the lines of "nobody cares, post more Lee." Just so there are comments! I need distraction!)
Title: A Matter For the Goddess, OR, Babysitter of Themyscira!
Fandom: JLA/Teen Titans
Summary: Alternate universe. After the events of Infinite Crisis, Wonder Woman took Wonder Girl (Cassie Sandsmark) back to Themyscira to recover from the Crisis and from the death of Superboy (Conner Kent). Four years later, Cassie has built a life for herself on Themyscira. When Diana, still acting as Wonder Woman, brings back a homeless waif to Cassie's adopted home, Cassie is furious, until drastic action by Queen Hippolyta forces her into a closer understanding of her visitor's demons.
Rating: R for language and concepts.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
CHAPTER THREE
"What would happen if you told me to do something I couldn't normally do?" he asked, that night over dinner.
I looked up from picking at my overdone spinach– I never have much of an appetite, especially when I've inadvertently acquired absolute power over a complete stranger and had him installed in my home. He didn't seem to have much of an appetite either– at least not for my cooking. I get along, but I wasn't exactly proud to dump the mess I get along on in front of a guest. I appreciated his not whining, though I guessed I should already credit him with better sense than to bitch, considering that I could tell him to eat his own hand and he'd have to do it.
Honestly, though, he looked like he could use some meat, and I never cook it. I don't so much have vegetarian principles as– considering my natural skill at cookery– I have anti-trichinosis and anti-salmonella principles. Maybe I could get one of the neighbors to fry him a steak or whatever you do.
He was looking at me nervously. Belatedly I registered what he'd asked.
"Like what?" I asked. "You mean like... if I told you to fly, or become invisible?"
"Yeah, or... well, I was thinking of your language." He got a bit more animated when he saw I was interested. "What if you told me to understand it? Do you think I would? Because, I mean, you said I forgot something on command, and I shouldn't have been able to do that, should I? Maybe it... makes things happen."
"I dunno," I said, but I was intrigued. "You don't miss a trick, do you? Want me to try?"
"Sure," he said, putting his fork down. "Worth a shot."
I went over to the bookshelf and grabbed the first Greek-language book I saw, which was Sappho's poetry. Heh. "Here, open it up so we know– okay." He looked up expectantly, the book propped open in front of him. "Now know how to read Greek."
His face changed instantly, interested expectation falling away into pure horror. "I can't!"
"What's wrong?" I said, startled.
"I'm sorry, Cassie, please, I really can't, please, please–" Tears were pouring down his face.
"Jesus Christ!" I gasped. "It's okay, you don't have to! I don't– you don't have to understand Greek! Is that– are you okay?"
He was shaking as he looked up at me. "It– thank you– I'm sorry–"
"Ian, honey!" The same unthinking instinct made me offer the endearment and bend down to put my arms around him, and he leaned against me, breathing hard. "What happened?"
"It hurt," he whispered. "It felt like... it felt like fucking detox, and at the same time I felt... guilty, like I'd fucking killed someone, I felt like I was going to die if I couldn't..."
"Oh, God." I stroked his hair. "I'm so sorry, Ian. I didn't– I had no idea it would do that to you."
"It was my idea," he said, muffled against me.
"I know. We didn't know."
He looked up at me miserably. "Rob used to– when I pissed him off– when I was jonesing– he wouldn't give me– but this was worse, this was– Cassie, please, I don't care what you tell me to do as long as it's something I can do, but please please even if I piss you off really badly don't..."
"Ian, of course I won't, don't be... This is so fucked up. Look, are you feeling up to seeing Hippolyta again?"
He pulled away, looking even more scared than before, if that were possible. "The– the queen? Why?"
"Because I'm not supposed to leave you alone, and I've got a few choice things to say to her about the nature of this binding." I spat out the last word in Greek, and he startled, which gave me an idea.
I said quickly in Greek, "Drum your fingers on the table," and he just looked at me. So he'd only obey if he understood the order– which presumably meant he'd obey the order as he understood it. I guessed that made sense, but... why the hell hadn't Hippolyta explained the parameters of the binding more clearly? And why hadn't I asked before?
"Sorry," I said, switching back to English. "So will you come with me?"
"Do I have a choice?" he asked bleakly.
"Yes, goddammit," I said. "I mean, yes, you do. I just accidentally zapped the hell out of you and you look like death warmed over. You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to, especially not to see the bitch who put this weird-ass voodoo hex on you in the first place."
He was still pale and tense, but for a second I thought I saw him smile.
"Okay," he said. "I'll go."
"Aphrodite's bindings," I informed the queen in a perfectly grammatical Greek sentence I had spent half the walk over formulating, "should come with a sent-to-Tartarus-by-the-gods-for-hubris instruction book."
"Really," she said, lifting an eyebrow as she set her knife and fork daintily down on her plate. She was dining alone tonight, as I usually did, a book propped open by her plate. I hadn't knocked. "It seemed a fairly straightforward binding to me."
"Well, it is not straightforward, my queen," I said, scowling, as she arose and came towards us. Ian moved a little closer to me. "I ordered him to be able to understand Greek."
"What?" The queen looked puzzled. "How could he obey such an order?"
"I had already ordered him to forget something. We thought maybe that was– how the spell worked, that it made a thing happen."
"It is well within the capacity of a normal human mind to voluntarily forget a puzzling incident," she said, as if I were stupid. "Not so to acquire a new language so abruptly. You should not have used your power so. It probably caused him some distress."
"Distress!" I gestured expressively towards Ian, who looked down. "He went crazy! Shaking, crying, pleading!"
"Really," said Hippolyta again, interested.
"Yes, really! He said it hurt! Look at him, all white and hurt still!"
"He looks well enough to me," she said. "The distress ended, did it not, once you withdrew the order?"
"That is not the point," I gritted. "Why did you– you weaved a punishment into the binding? For what need? Why punish him if he cannot obey?"
"It is not a matter of punishment, Cassandra," said the queen calmly. "I am a priestess of Aphrodite, and the bonds of Aphrodite are the bonds of love. Were your father to lay a binding on a young man, it would– and," she added parenthetically and with acid disapproval, "frequently does– take the form of a physical compulsion to do his will. Were Athena to do the same, the binding would make it appear above all things reasonable, rational and intelligent to pursue precisely the course of action recommended by Athena. Aphrodite is goddess of love and desire, and the nature of her bindings is accordingly unique."
"Oimoi," I said, feeling sick, and lowering my voice even though I knew Ian couldn't understand. "Are you saying he is in love with me?"
"No, Cassandra," said the queen disapprovingly. "I am saying that obedience– submission to the will of the beloved– is a natural aspect of love, and to bind to obedience by the power of Aphrodite is to bind to the obedience of love. He does not love you, but his obedience mimics love in that I have caused him to value submission to your commands above all things, even above the love of his own life."
"That is sick, my queen," I hissed.
She ignored me. "A corresponding distress at an inability to obey would naturally follow, although I would not have expected it to be so powerful as you describe. Could you demonstrate for me?"
"No!" I snapped furiously. "You cannot understand. It was– horrible. I promised him not to do it again."
"And yet you come to me seeking advice and, perhaps, remedy," Hippolyta said coolly, "which I certainly cannot grant without understanding the situation fully."
"Cassie?" said Ian softly. I looked quickly back into his worried face. "Your eyes shot sparks again. Does she want to see me naked, too?"
"She wants me to do it again," I told him in English, smiling a little. "Order you to do something you can't do, so she can– see what it does to you. But I won't," I added quickly. "I said I wouldn't."
He nodded. "Will she– do you think she might– fix it?"
"Maybe," I said softly. "She said it shouldn't have hurt you as much as it did. But–"
"Then do it," he said quickly, and when I started to protest, "Just... Cassie, will you–"
"What?" I asked. "Can I do anything to make it easier?"
"Well, earlier, when you–" He blushed. "When you put your arms around me, I felt... it made it.... I'm not asking you to do that again, but if you could be touching me just a little– maybe holding my hand?"
"Of course," I said, my stomach churning, and went to him, taking both his hands in mine. "He is willing, my queen, because he is a brave young man. Watch well. I will not do this again. Are you ready?"
The mantle of Aphrodite descended. Ian's grip tightened as the air seemed to heat up slightly around us. "Speak, Cassandra. And do not withdraw your order until I give the word."
I looked into Ian's eyes. "I can't stop it once I start, not until she–"
"Do it," he said fiercely.
"Turn yourself invisible."
Tears instantly welled in his eyes and spilled over. He was trying to control his face, but it was bone white and anguished, and his hands were so tight on mine that I winced myself with the pain.
"I can't," he said. "Please, I really can't. Please. Forgive me. Please, I'm sorry, I would if I could, I want to, I just, please, oh, Jesus Christ, please, Cassie–" His voice was building to a scream.
"Make him be silent," the queen said briskly, as blue lightning crackled gently in the air around Ian and me.
"Hush," I said softly, looking into Ian's tear-blurred green eyes, and his voice cut off in mid-entreaty as if I'd hit the mute button, his face twisting in agony. In another second he was on his knees, his hands still tightly held in mine, his head bowed low, his nails digging into my hands.
"Enough," said Hippolyta after a few more eternal seconds.
"Ian, don't turn yourself invisible," I said loudly and clearly and so fast it all sounded like one word. He sagged in my grip, shaking silently.
"And make as much noise as you want!" I added, dropping to my knees and yanking him into a fierce hug as the sudden noise of his retching and sobbing hit me like a slap. He wept, choking, on my shoulder while I clutched him to me, wishing my eyes could actually shoot sparks at Hippolyta, who had gotten shorter again and was staring at us pensively.
"That should not have happened," she said.
"Most perspicacious, my queen," I gritted. "Ian, sweetie, are you okay? Say something."
"Something," he gasped, and I didn't know if he was being snarky or just perfectly obedient. "Tell me I'm okay, please, Cassie, tell me I did well–"
I swallowed hard. "You did well. You did– amazing. You were so strong and– and brave, Ian."
"What did he ask of you?" Hippolyta demanded, as Ian sighed softly. "What are you saying that soothes him so?"
I translated irritably, Ian lying still and relaxed in my arms. Hippolyta's eyes widened, and she muttered something under her breath.
"He must be a particularly susceptible subject," she said out loud. "Perhaps more than usually fearful of the displeasure of an authority figure–"
"Oh, you think?" I snarled in English, and Hippolyta poked up an eyebrow at the same time Ian looked up, his face wet with tears. "Hey, don't tell me. Shooting sparks again. Sorry. Not at you."
As I rocked him– that motion must be born into women, I've seen babysitters do it with kids they didn't give a shit about if the kids had bumped their heads– Hippolyta came and knelt down beside the two of us. She placed a hand on my head and I felt a gentle crackling as she used the power of Aphrodite to read my responses. There was plenty to read right then, too. I'm surprised her little Geiger counter or whatever didn't shoot sparks itself.
"You, too, child..." she whispered. "Either my powers are greater than I ever knew, or– I must speak of this to the goddess when she descends."
"What about now?" I demanded.
"Now?" she repeated absently, then looked up at me. "Now you will take him home, and look after him until the goddess arrives. Was that not the charge you accepted?"
"But, my queen–"
"You will not damage him," she said more gently. "Not more than he is damaged already. Go, my child. And if his distress pains you so, instruct him to forget all that has passed here. You will find him willing enough."
"No," I said between my teeth. "He is not an-- an Etch A Sketch, my queen, for me to shake him and undo what has been done."
"What is an Etch A Sketch?" Hippolyta asked, puzzled.
Ian suddenly gave a damp, choked, brief laugh.
"I still don't understand anything you're saying," he said, "but there's a Greek word that sounds an awful lot like 'Etch A Sketch.'"
