Angels of the Killing Hymn

Aftermath

by RoxyNychus

Tags: #cw:gore #cw:noncon #angel #brainwashing #dom:female #f/f #hound/handler #mind_control #sub:female #biting #blood_drinking #body_horror #cw:gaslighting #degradation #drugging #fantasy #graphic_violence #halo_play #hypnotic_eyes #identity_manipulation #memory_alteration #mindbreak #role_reversal #rough_sex #trans_main_character

I float in ambrosia, trying to feel only its warm static on my skin and the oxygen mask fastened over my face. We returned to Vandett Tower this morning. Getye’s remains had spent the train ride wrapped in a blanket and laid in a corner of our car. Imeshan sat with her the entire time, stroking the cloth around her head. Upon arrival, we were hurried upstairs to the clinic before we could see what was done with her body.

After Getye's death, the rest of our deployment was mostly uneventful. There was another token wave of thralls, coming too late to exploit the damage inflicted by the initial assault. One night a seraphim infiltrated the forward trench, quietly killing a few men before we hunted it down. It felt almost gloating. Like the Host had already won their own game by claiming the prize of our sister's life. Everything else was just rubbing in our faces how little our loss had won. There were four of us. Three now. There will always be more Host.

The only incident of note took place the morning before we left. It was the early hours of dawn, the world painted in dim blue-grey. We were spread out across the fire step, keeping watch over the Forest with a handful of soldiers. All was still, save for the snoring of one man in the dugout behind me. My eyes had begun to sting from staring into the white wall of trees. Watch started at midnight and surely had another hour or so to go. The Forest had been quiet all that time. I let my eyes rest a moment. Even after I opened them, it took me a moment to see it.

Standing just within the treeline was a figure. The distance made it hard to judge, but I thought it wore Cratavn's green. It looked too intact to be a thrall. One of ours, then. No doubt dead for days now.

They raised their hand and stiffly waved at me.

I scanned the trees for the puppetmaster. If I hadn't known to look for it, I may not have seen it. Looming in the shadows just behind the dead soldier was the Hierophant. It could have been standing there all night, watching me back. I might never have known had it not revealed itself through its puppet.

Dread and excitement churned in my chest again. Especially when the Hierophant reached its gracile arm out to me, just as before.

I could have gone to it. There were only a few others on watch then. It wouldn't have been hard to sprint to the Forest's edge before they could stop me. To let the Hierophant appraise me with its inky eyes and run its long fingers through my hair. Can it speak? If so, would it praise me for my obedience?

I didn't go to it, of course. I already have a master.

The grate opens beneath me. As it drains, the ambrosia pulls me down towards the tank floor with it. I curl myself upon the warm, sticky metal as it flows down off me. Outside the Proxy is speaking with an attendant, their voices are too hushed for me to hear. I brace for the shower to come on. Still the water makes me flinch, cold against the ambrosia’s lingering heat. I fold in on myself as if to preserve some of the honey-like liquid. The water peels it from my skin.

The clinic door swings open and heavy boots trudge in. Voices raise. It isn’t until the showers cut off a few moments later that I can hear Field Marshal Kabrell saying, “Don’t mistake me, Officer. It is unfortunate.”

The Proxy replies, cool but barbed, “Field Marshall, why do you always seem to hunt me down whenever the Virtues seem to stumble?”

Rising to my knees, I wipe a thin film of leftover ambrosia from the tank door. Kabrell stands inches from the Proxy, their glares like crossed blades.

“Because as invested as Her Grace is in Project Evenstar,” continues Kabrell, “it is a risk.”

“Is it, after three years of operation?” the Proxy counters. “And with the results we’ve gotten?”

A nod from Kabrell. “Yes, your pets are impressive. So long as you only need them to kill something.”

“They captured a Bone Factory.”

“They let an insurgent escape.” Kabrell is stone, shrugging off the Proxy’s steel. “And now one of them is dead.”

The Proxy holds. “Another is ready to replace her.”

“And if another is killed?” Kabrell cocks her head. “It isn’t as if you have a barracks full of them.” The Field Marshall begins to look over the tanks. “And don’t think I haven’t read the early reports. I saw you had quite the time trying to break...” Her eyes fall on me and she approaches my tank. “This one.” Crouching down to meet my face, she studies me. “Truly a beautiful creature. Hard to imagine she was such a terror those first few weeks.”

Was I? I remember little of my enlightenment, and nothing from before it. The Proxy has assured the memories were of no value. She’d pared them away so Her Grace’s truth could replace them. I feel no void where they were. There is nothing to miss, nothing worth remembering. Especially not if I was disobedient then.

The Proxy steps up behind Kabrell, letting more of her annoyance show now that the other woman can’t see it. “That,” she says, “was years ago, Kabrell. You can see for yourself the Virtues are well-conditioned now.”

Kabrell seems to analyze every detail of my body. Taking in every curve, every toned muscle, every scar. I straighten up, drinking in her attention. We Virtues are both our Queen’s deadliest weapons and Her most radiant treasures. My effectiveness and obedience as Her warrior should be matched only by my beauty. That Kabrell seems to doubt the former is soothed by her approval of the latter. Though it does perplex me a little when her eyes wander down to my penis, and she gives a small huff of amusement.

“I’m sure they are,” says the Field Marshall. “Conditioned for simple, static tasks. Pretty attack dogs, nothing more.” She stands, still looking down on me. “We need more, Officer.”

The Proxy collects herself as she steps up beside Kabrell. “We have more. Meanwhile, the Virtues will still be here, winning whole engagements almost single-handedly.” She leans into the Field Marshall’s view. “I’m beginning to think your critiques here are not wholly professional.”

Kabrell is silent a moment. “Officer,” she says at last. “Have you seen what it’s like in the city right now?”

“I’ve read the—”

“No, have you been out in the city?” Kabrell’s tone is firm and flat. “Have you seen the people? Spoken to them? Seen how they live, the desperation they feel?”

The Proxy’s jaw tightens. “I have, Field Marshall.”

The older woman turns to her. “Have you seen it recently?” Lower and sharper, like a dagger hidden in a sleeve, she adds, “Or do you now spend all your time with your pets? As Her pet?”

Another silent stand off between the two, faces calm but eyes like bullets. Field Marshall Kabrell is a handsome woman, her short brown hair swept neatly back and threaded with grey. Even her false eye lends her a weathered beauty. I imagine her on her knees, staring with hollow awe, my light ensnaring her mind. Then she would trouble my guiding star no more. Has her blood aged so finely as her body?

“Lakera,” creaks a voice through the intercom. “Report to the Queen-Minister’s quarters.”

The two hold each other’s glares a heartbeat longer. Then Kabrell says, “I am sorry for your... subordinate, Officer.” When the Proxy does not reply, the Field Marshall turns away. Slowly, like a wolf intending to return to a kill, and leaves the clinic.

***

I find the Queen-Minister at Her kitchenette, pouring Herself a cup of wine. Without looking at me, She points to the sofa. “Down.”

I kneel before it and wait for Her. Water drops jewel the windows from this morning’s rain, and the fire place crackles behind me, its warmth spreading over my back. Anticipation bites at my nerves.

At last my Queen comes to sit above me. Legs crossed, swishing Her wine slowly in its glass. A red, so strong I can smell it where I kneel. Then she unfolds Her leg and sets Her heel on my shoulder. The leather of Her boot crinkles beside my ear.

She says, “Tell me what happened to Getye.”

“She and I had entered the Forest,” I begin. “We’d joined a group of soldiers trying to fight their way up a heavily defended hill, and…” Before coming here, I did wonder what my Queen would ask first: why my sister was dead, or if I’d accomplished the task she’d given me. Perhaps it will please Her to receive both answers at once. “I saw the Hierophant atop the hill.”

“Ah.” The Queen-Minister sips her wine. “We’ll get to it. Getye first.”

I continue, “The Hierophant was raising the dead, I think. For every one we killed, it would revive two more, including our own fallen. We had to retreat or risk being overrun. As we did, Getye was hit in the back. I helped her to the dugout, but by the time we got there, it was…” My throat constricts around the words. “Queen-Minister, it was too late. She’d lost too much blood.”

Her stare is daylight, spreading into every crevice. Exposing everything within. “She was near you, then.”

“Yes, Queen-Minister.”

“Right next to you.”

My eyes sting. “Yes, Queen-Minister.”

“Hm.” My Queen glances into Her wine. Her boot leans into my head, flexing up and down as if to stroke my hair. Until she works the edge under my halo and nudges it upwards. Knocking it askew, the right side of it down over my eye while the left sticks up, a thin section of its top edge disconnected from my head.

I feel a twinge in my body. Every muscle and tendon twitching at once.

“Well then, Lakera.” She takes another sip. “It sounds like you did as I asked.”

“Yes, Queen-Minister.” My halo is still partly on. I have a minute or two.

“Tell me everything.”

“As I said,” I continue, speaking quickly. “I first saw it atop the hill, raising and controlling the dead. It used a second pair of arms to do this. Then it—”

The Queen-Minister cocks Her head. “Have you somewhere to be, Lakera?” She asks. “Slow down.”

Taking in a breath, I do so, despite the icy numbness creeping into the left side of my skull. “It looked down at me, Queen-Minister. It reached out as if to beckon me to its side.” The memory is almost soothing. The Hierophant’s marionette face, the color of fresh cream. Its delicate hand extended towards me. The mystery in its black eyes and its uncanny mimicry, as tempting as that graceful invitation.

Her fine brow twitches. “And then?”

“Then I jo—” Small motes of black, like flies, begin to drift into the left side of my vision. I try to blink them away but they only dart about more. “Then I joined the retreat. There were too many of them.”

My Queen leans back against the plush cushions. “Did you consider going to it?”

“No.” The fire’s warmth is starting to fade from my notice. “N-No, Queen-Minister, I am loyal only to you.”

“Hm.” Another long sip. She’s drained most of the glass now. “And then?”

“That was the last I saw of—” My left hand spasms. A sudden sharp jolt that shudders up to the shoulder, leaving the whole arm numb. It’s hitting me now: the disconnect. The cold void seeping into my body. “That was the last I saw of it for several days.”

I’m about to say more when She adds, “Do you know if your sisters ever saw it?”

“I don’t knnn…” My throat coils in on itself, strangling the word into a choked moan as sensation starts to fade from the left side of my body, like that half of me has been submerged in icy water. I try to clear my throat but all that does is bring a taste like vinegar and honey into my mouth, mixing thickly on my tongue. “I don’t know.”

Her Grace takes another sip, the drink painting a blush across Her cheeks that makes Her all the more radiant. “How many more times did you see it?”

“Once more.” The cold nothing is starting to spread to the right side of my body, drawing violent shivers from my failing muscles. “The day before we llll…”

She raps Her boot against the side of my head. “Focus, Lakera.”

“The day before we left,” I add quickly. “I was in the forward trench that morning.” I push the worlds out through chattering teeth. Dark spots drift in both my eyes now, weaving a thin net of darkness between themselves. “I saw it at the Forest’s edge. Ju-Just standing there.” A tremor wracks me, my head jerks to the left, into Her boot again. I hardly register the pain. “Th-There was someone with it. A s-soldier.”

I almost don’t hear my Queen as She asks, “A soldier?”

“O-One of ourrr…” A rush of motion. Hard impact on my shoulder. I spasm against cold marble. My words are only half-audible to myself as my throat narrows to a pinhole. “One of ours. W-Waving at me.”

“And?” Her voice warbles in my ears.

“Th-That…” I gag and spit up something thick and warm and tingling. It mostly splatters against the inside of my mask and runs down my chin and cheek, sizzling against the skin. “That was it.”

I drift in the void then, feeling myself shuddering into pieces. Watching the dark close its cold, clammy jaws around my head. I am without connection, without grounding, my halo the string holding my divine essence to this body. The string is coming loose. What happens if it’s severed completely? I’m not sure. Neither my Queen nor Her Proxy have let it go that far, yet.

Vibrations around me, accompanied by the sound of boots on marble. Then, light. So bright and sudden it’s like a slap across the face. I snap back together and sputter for air, writhing as the last tremors die out. It takes a moment for the black to clear from my eyes. Once it does, I find myself looking at the Queen-Minister’s boots. As the numbness subsides I feel my halo back in its proper place, level and firm around my temples.

“Thank you, Lakera.” Planting Her heel on my shoulder, my Queen rolls me onto my back. She looms over me, Her wine glass empty. “You have served me well.”

The cold of disconnect disperses as warmth blooms in my chest. A smile starts to spread through the ichor drying around my mouth.

“However,” She adds, “your sister still fell at your side. I cannot absolve you. Not yet.”

My smile hangs in place, my lips too numb to release it yet, even as my hopes crash. Even as I feel the barbs of failure pressing into my stomach.

“That’s all, Lakera.” She walks away. “You’re dismissed.”

***

I lay in bed, listening to my sisters softly breathe. Whenever I feel myself starting to settle, Getye’s face ghosts into my mind, her eyes dull green and unblinking. Staring at me. She’s accusing me, I think. Of letting her die, of not observing the Hierophant enough, of not pleasing our Queen sufficient to make her death worth it. Heaving a long breath, I roll over. Brea is dead to the world, face half-buried in her pillow.

Imeshan, however, stares into the dark of our quarters like myself. Why does she always look so sad? Even while Getye was alive, Imeshan’s face was downcast. Life in our choir isn’t easy, but does she not find bliss in serving the Queen-Minister? Does she not take joy in destroying Her enemies and safeguarding Her realm?

There’s a knock on the door. Brea jerks awake and we all put on our masks just before it opens. The Proxy enters. Trailing in behind her, her eyes aglow with gold and a silver halo around her head, is Sholanan.

The Proxy stops in the center of our quarters. “I understand you mourn for Getye,” she says. “So do Her Grace and I. But the war is not over. Cratavn needs a full choir.” She coaxes Sholanan up beside her by the small of her back. “Your new sister will be joining you from now on.”

Sholanan’s gaze drifts about the room, drawn towards each of us but never meeting our eyes. The Proxy leads our sister to a bed, where she whispers something to her. Sholanan regards her a moment, eyes dull with animal trust, before pulling back the covers and climbing in. Then the Proxy leaves, and we remove our masks and settle back down as the door to our quarters closes.

I, however, remain restless.

Sholanan already looks so comfortable, laid on her side, the thin blankets draped over the slender curvature of her body. The Proxy has taught her this place is her home now, and she has accepted it. The bags are gone from beneath her eyes. No bruises mar her fair cheeks. Her face is without trepidation, now serene as the surface of calm water. A stark contrast from the lost and wounded creature I found in Purgatory. How the Proxy must have lavished her with praise as she approached and finally achieved enlightenment. How Sholanan is still fawned over at the weekly congregations. There’s a reason for this, of course. She’s the new sister. She needs these soft nudges in the right direction.

It’s just hard for my mind not to wander to the way my Queen looked down at me today, her eyes sharpened with disappointment. Perhaps even contempt. How She wouldn’t absolve me, even though I’d done as She’d asked.

I get up and pad to Sholanan’s bed.

My new sister’s eyes flutter open as I approach. As I perch on her bedside, she sits up, dark curls cascading down her shoulders and back. Experimentally, I brush my finger down the edge of them. Her eyes follow my hand, but she makes no move to stop me.

I loop my finger through a section of curls spilling down her arm and lightly play with it.

Again, Sholanan lets me.

I grab a handful, scrunching her soft hair in my hand.

Her eyes are still so peaceful. As if nothing I could do could break the placid trust in them.

Letting go of her hair, I lean in and kiss her. Her lips are supple and sweet. I press into them, expecting her to recoil. For a moment she has no reaction. Then, she starts to kiss back, if a little timidly.

As I pull away, I can’t help but smile when I see the look on her face. Brows knitted, lips parted just a little. It doesn’t help her when I slip off my robes and kick them onto the floor. Her gaze roams over my nude body, still looking so lost. She’s even prettier when she’s confused. Then, with only an initial hint of hesitation, she pulls off her own robes and discards them as well. She’s trying to figure it out, to keep up. Surely this must be something Virtues do.

It isn’t.

Taking her by the shoulders, I lower Sholanan down onto her back, pinning her to the mattress.

Her eyes go between my hands, viced on her shoulders. She watches me loosen my grip just a little and feel my way down, along her collarbones and over her pert breasts to her smooth belly. She’s so soft, the only scars being those small, symmetrical lines from the thaumaturgic surgery, already starting to fade. She’s not hardened from years of warfare as the rest of are. So docile beneath me, her face peaceful even as she struggles to understand why I’m exploring her. This is what Virtues do, isn’t it?

My smile widens.

Next I set a finger on her halo and trace lightly along the flat of it, from her forehead to her ear. She twitches a little. Moving my fingertip up to the top edge, where the silver meets her hair, I run it more slowly along the narrow lip, applying a little more pressure. The halo produces a shrill, quiet hum. Sholanan gives a little squeak as a quiver runs through her. It’s a trick I picked up from watching Getye and Imeshan, and have used on myself more than once. A sudden jolt of pleasure, shooting up from the groin and hitting the brain like a fist. The way Sholanan’s eyes widen suggests it’s quite new to her.

It stirs something in me, seeing her stupid, beautiful face staring up from the pillow. Knowing that must be how I look, knelt before the Proxy or the Queen-Minister. Is this how they feel? When they watch us race to comply with their orders, so eager and obedient, do they get this same thrill? No, that thought doesn't sit right. They're meant to have this power. I'm meant to have it exerted over me. Yet here I am, leading my sweet sister on puppet strings.

It feels fucking good.

I want to pull Sholanan up to her knees, tell her to sing hymns of praise for me. I want her to pray to me, worship me, as if she too weren't divine. That's what stops me. She may be new, but she is still a Virtue.

My mind wanders to back to Kabrell. Her iron composure, tempered by decades of service, breaking down. Learning humility as I flood her mind with reverence, drowning out all else.

My mouth starts to water.

Sholanan blinks, watching my face shift in the dark above her. I brush my thumb over her cheek. Cratavn needs all its Virtues.

Then I keep pushing, lowering my body down onto Sholanan’s. I can’t shake the thrill now, this disturbance of the hierarchy a forbidden fruit I can’t help but keep reaching for. Perhaps there will come a limit. She’ll assert herself and correct me. As I shift, I let my cock brush against her clit. Just a heartbeat of contact so see how she reacts. Her eyes flick downwards, then back up to meet mine, her serenity undisturbed. Feeling myself harden, I seize the chance to take it further. I grind lightly against her, prolonging our contact.

Her breath hitches a little. Nothing more.

Beaming with the rising high, I set the head of my cock against her. Her breath is starting to quicken. She even parts her legs a little, as much as she can with me on top of her. It’s not arousal, exactly. She doesn’t have that blush, that anticipation in her eyes. Sholanan is only preparing to fulfill what she thinks is her duty.

I pause. She’s not going to stop me, is she? I could take this as far as I want and she would put up no resistance, trusting me as her sister that this is simply something we do. Getye and Imeshan sometimes made love, but it wasn’t like this. Both were eager participants. Sholanan just lays beneath me, utterly pliable. She will let me wield the Proxy’s power- the Queen-Minister’s power- over her. She will let me pluck the forbidden fruit and gorge myself on it.

My thrill boils over into queasiness. I shouldn’t do this. I can’t. This power isn’t mine to have. I’m to be laid out alongside Sholanan, compliant for our shared masters. Did my Queen not reprimand me for trying something like this with Brea, some time ago in the showers? Perhaps that strayed too close to taking power over one of my sisters, rather than staying in my place knelt beside her. If that was enough to displease the Queen-Minister, what will She make of this?

Sholanan tilts her head to one side. Then, she brushes her hand down my hip, letting it come to rest on my thigh. Experimenting herself? Trying to offer me what she thinks I want, or what she thinks our Queen expects of her? Either way the sweetness of it almost makes my heart burst. I could devour her. But she is a Virtue, and so am I.

It’s so difficult to look away. So difficult to remove myself from her. So difficult to set this power down now that I’ve tasted it. The most I can manage is to roll off to her side and cradle her against me, her hair tickling my cheek, lithe body fitting so perfectly against mine. She smells of sweetness and ozone.

Sholanan looks sidelong at me, that charming confusion still on her face. Then, she nuzzles into me and closes her eyes. I listen to her breathing soften as she drifts towards sleep, and try to set aside that rush I felt holding another Virtue’s leash. It would have been good, I know. The knowledge that such power mustn’t be mine only sweetens it. I’m still a little aroused, a little hard. Exhaling, I cross a leg over my womanhood.

Soon Sholanan quietly snores into my shoulder. I close my eyes, shutting our her visage. Severing one tie. Lifting a little of my guilt. Holding her like this isn’t forbidden, surely. Getye and Imeshan did it often enough. I walked up to the cusp of sin tonight and then pulled myself back. Draping an arm over her shoulder, I let the gentle rise and fall of her breast ferry me into sleep.

You know the drill, thank you for reading, hope you're enjoying, chapter 8 will hopefully be up tomorrow or Monday!

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