Chapter Text
‘One foot in front of the other, eyes straight ahead. Don’t look at them, don’t connect. Breath.’
Sarah spoke to herself within her head, coaxing herself through what she knew was a nearly impossible task. Not physically; she had killed countless times before. The act of ending Nicte’s life would be nearly effortless. No, the wound from this day would be mental, the kind of wound that you can’t help but pick at, the scab that itches, the blister that begs to be popped, the ulcer on the roof of your mouth that you can’t help but run your tongue over again and again. This would be a wound that would fester and leave a lasting scar on Sarah’s soul.
The Biddies spoke to her the whole journey from her office to the hanger, reassuring her with every step she took. ‘
You can do this, Sarah.’ ‘We’re with you.’
‘Share it with us.’ ‘Let us share the load.’
Sarah shot her thoughts back, wielding her authority over the collection of women. ‘No. This is mine to bear. Mine alone. I must stand strong.’
She walked at the head of a flying V formation, the Biddies fanning out behind her, dressed in custom red uniforms for the occasion. They had all taken the hint and turned silent, all of them going as far as to protect their thoughts to give Sarah space within her own mind.
Sarah Alder walked into the large aircraft hangar, uniform blues pressed firmly and her medals in pride of place on her chest. She became acutely aware of the tip of her scourge bumping against her calf as she walked, the feeling of her baby hairs tickling her neck and the rough scratch of her uniform against her clasped hands. The beating of her heart roared loud in her ears and she was increasingly cognizant of the hundreds of eyes watching her every step. She had never felt more pressure in her career than she did right now. The only time she had felt this amount of weight resting on her shoulders was after her own sister's execution.
Nicte was tied to a post in the center of the hangar, hands shackled and a collar on her throat. She remained stoic, her face a mask of indifference to the proceedings around her. Sarah, however, knew from the way she held her hands that Nicte was scared, terrified. She had been claiming to face her death with no fear, happy to sacrifice her life for the cause but when she was faced with her own imminent proof of mortality she was obviously filled with dread. Terrified of what came next for someone like her.
Alder walked towards Nicte until the dias blocked her progress, the click of her boots the only sound in the crowded hangar. As she began to curve to the right of the platform she allowed her eyes to finally look at something other than what was directly in front of her. She tracked over the faces of her cadets, her soldiers, and she knew she had to remain strong for them. They all needed the boost of defeating the Spree leader, especially with the Camarilla rising from the ashes to haunt them again. But it still didn’t make her job any easier.
Her gaze lingered on the Bellweather unit, the three witches who finally brought the Spree to justice. Abigail looked suspicious, a darkness hanging over her somehow making her face look harsh. Tally looked like she was barely holding it together, the tremble of her lip a dead giveaway for the state of her emotions. Raelle looked disgusted, not even trying to hide her contempt for the proceedings.
Alder continued her path around Nicte; she corrected her course to once again walk through the center of the hangar until she stopped in front of President Wade, offering only a stiff nod that scarcely concealed her rising fury though she refused to allow her emotions free reign just yet. Kelly nodded her head back solemnly but this would not be enough to calm Sarah’s swirling anger.
General Alder understood that Batan’s death would not aggrieve Wade and would be celebrated by many around the world, including her own officers but the President appeared to have started her celebrations early. Not only had the President authorized the first official execution of a witch in centuries but she didn’t even have the decency to respect the proceedings by wearing back.
It seemed that President Wade was making some strange throwback to Catherin of Aragon's funeral by wearing a ‘joyful yellow’ coat and her blatant disrespect for the decorum expected of decent people made Sarah’s blood boil.
Anacostia couldn’t even hold her gaze, she stared resolutely forward instead of engaging with her mother. It appeared even Petra wasn’t happy with the President’s choice of clothes as the look she gave to Kelly as she nodded was not one of approval or respect. This intrigued Sarah but she didn’t have time to unpack that whole thing and instead focused on the task at hand.
She turned to face Nicte, the intense eye contact speaking more than words could ever say. There was a flicker of vulnerability on Sarah’s face if you knew what to look for and Nicte gave the nearest hint of a smirk as she spotted it, her lip curling just enough to let Sarah know that she saw.
The voice of Tara, who had been with Sarah the longest, reached reassuringly through the link. A wave of love and solidarity through the bond, surrounding the words. “Okay Sarah, just like we practiced. You know what to say.”
“I take no pleasure in ending a witch's life. But this woman is no mere witch.”
Visions of herself and Nicte from their brief relationship so many years ago flashed through her mind, the way the sun made her eyes look nearly black, the crinkles at the side of her eyes when she smiled, the way it felt to brush her lips against Nicte’s own. But still she spoke, forcing the pain she was feeting into her words and allowing the passion she once felt for the leader of the Spree and the hurts that she felt for the subsequent betrayal to mingle and multiply.
“Nicte Batan is a murderer. Her crimes against the citizens of the United States cannot go unanswered.”
Within her head the images morphed, changing from summer days and walks around Salem town into scenes of carnage caused by the Spree, 30 years of bloodshed, forced suicide and pain. Images of the first ever balloon attack, the first mass murder of over 100 people, the scenes at the bottling plant where the soldiers turned on each other. She found herself choking up but she pushed through.
“With her death, we send a signal to Spree cells around the world that we will hunt them.”
She looked around at the somber but eager faces of her soldiers, knowing that she would be forced to step down at the end of the day, hoping they would be ready to take up the mantle.
“We will find them. And we will end them!”
Sarah took in the feeling of her soldiers stomping their feet for her one last time; it was a feeling she would miss greatly when everything was said and done. She paused momentarily when she realized that the Bellweather unit were not stomping along with everyone else but she put it down to the stress from their mission only days before.
Sarah reached to grasp her scourge and pulled the weighty leather into her hand. She mentally chastised herself for picking up her favorite scourge but it was too late to turn back now. The whip had never felt less comfortable in her hands than it did in that moment and she knew that she would never be able to wield this particular scourge ever again.
“She will not be burned, because even our most rank, vile enemy deserves better than that.”
Alder knew when she said these words that images of thousands of burning witches would flash through her mind, this was one of the reasons she had practiced this speech so much over the past few days. The screams of countless witches filled her ears and the anxious knot in her stomach grew heavy.
“With three strikes,” she paused.
The General noted the tightness in her chest, knew it stemmed from the overwhelming feeling of dread over killing a woman who she once thought she loved, but she dismissed it. This was no time to indulge in sentimentality or allow her body's reaction to the anxiety coursing through her veins to make her deviate from her task.
“Nicte Batan will meet the Goddess.”
Alder swung her scourge, a figure 8 that left the tip glowing orange behind her back. She kept a length of the leather looped and held in her left hand, not needing the extra length until she released her killing blows.
She stalked towards Nicte, every move calculated and controlled.
One step.
“One for the heart.”
Another step.
“One for the head.”
A final step.
“And one.” She allowed the rest of the world to melt away, it was just her and Nicte now. And really isn’t this where they were always heading from the moment that Nicte first smashed her bottle in Liberia? Sarah took the anger she had felt for every dead witch, the disgust for every despicable act Nicte ever orchestrated, the hollow feeling that had followed her since Nicte’s betrayal and channeled it into her heart, drowning out the feelings within her that cried out for her to stop.
“For the soul.”
She narrowed her eyes and drew her arm back, preparing to throw the death blow, knowing that nothing could stop this now.
Nothing except….
“Stop!” Every eye in the hangar turned to look at the source of the voice, including Nicte and Alder.
Without whipping her arm forward Sarah’s scourge could not reach Nicte, it harmlessly swung like a pendulum behind her back, tip still glowing brightly.
Sarah narrowed in on the voice, shocked to see that it was Tally who had thrown caution to the wind and interrupted the proceedings. The knower looked terrified, breathing heavily for a moment before she stepped towards the center of the hangar, her sisters watching her with dismay and fear.
“What are you doing?” Alder asked, still standing like a big cat ready to strike.
The iron fist she had on her emotions was slacking now, she had built herself up to the singular moment, thrust her whole self into her swing and now she felt like the rug had been pulled out from under her. She did not know why Tally had stepped forwards, why she would even want to delay Nicte’s demise but seeing the cadet for which Sarah had so much admiration moving to stand between herself and Nicte was causing her to crack under the pressure.
Alder straightened, looking at Tally with wide eyes. Panic quickly overtook all emotions as she frantically began to mentally run through their bylaws.
The displeased voice of President Wade came from behind Sarah but she remained staring at the redhead before her, barely taking in Kelly’s words. “General Bellweather, I do not know what this is, but do something about it.”
Petra sounded, for the first time in her life, unsure of herself. “I... can't. I've never seen a witch invoke it before. This is between the two of them now.”
With the confirmation that no one was going to intervene, she thought through possible ways to circumnavigate Tally’s claim but came up empty. Sarah’s hands became clammy and she corrected her grip on her scourge, needing something to grip onto as the world shifted on its axis.
If she thought the idea of killing Nicte was painful, the idea of killing Tally was infinitely more so. She could feel tears prickling in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. The weight in her stomach threatened to drown her on dry land as surely as her mother had been drowned during the Trials. With more concentration than earlier, she pushed the weight away from her mind to focus on the problem at hand; saving Tally Craven. She just had to convince Tally to drop her claim or failing that, get President Wade to ignore Tally’s claim.
Alder finally shook herself from her silence. “Craven,” She said softly. “I don't want to hurt you.”
Tally remained standing strong but the pain and anxiety was written all over her face. “You're going to have to,” Her gaze hardened, the fire that Sarah had seen so many times before burning behind her eyes. As she spoke she dropped her eyes to the floor, almost as if looking into Sarah’s eyes was painful to her. “Unless you want to tell everyone why we are really here.” As her eyes came back to rest on Sarah’s own once more they were accusatory, a depth of disappointment present in her eyes that had never been there when looking at Alder.
The pain that flared through Sarah’s heart at seeing that within Tally’s eyes was sharper than the cut of a Camarilla’s blade, harsher than the rasp of the hangman’s noose and icier than swimming for the puritans. The General knew at that moment that Tally would not back down, she had made up her mind and nothing was going to change her mind unless she was forced to.
Sarah began to retreat towards President Wade, praying that Kelly’s bloodlust for the leader of the Spree would work in her favor. She would not, could not, fight Tally. Even with them shielding their thoughts she could feel the unease from the Biddies, refusing to be compliant if it meant seeing someone they considered one of their own struck down.
Sarah took two cautious steps backward, not yet taking her eyes from Tally’s. She moved carefully as if retreating from an apex predator. As she turned her body she left her head till last, keeping her gaze locked on the knower until the final second.
The moment that Sarah’s eyes left her, Tally swung her scourge, the tip humming to life. It whirled through the air, cutting a deadly arc, the glowing tip slicing a gash across Alder’s cheek. She barely felt the pain from her cheek, it was merely the final straw that broke her.
Tara’s voice once more appeared in her head, she had been with Sarah the longest at 5 years and as such she was always in the forefront of decisions being made. ‘ You don’t have a choice, Sarah.’
Alexis, a nerd when it came to bylaws and tradition of witch culture jumped in. ‘ You know that Wade can’t overrule this. Not now that blood has been spilt.’
Ever sweet and helpful, young Devon sent her support through the bond. ‘We will help you.’
‘No. I can’t, I…’ Even within her own head Sarah sounded panicked, her voice shaking in a way she would never allow to be heard out loud
‘ You must. And we are going to take the burden.’ Tara insisted, acting more like a parent in this moment than someone 300 years Sarah’s junior.
Gretta, Tara’s closest friend and the second senior most Biddy, spoke up. ‘You don’t get to choose for us this time, Sarah.’
Sophie, a quiet but deeply loyal girl added her opinion into the mix. ‘We are a family, and we will face this together.’
‘Thank you, thank you all.’ Sarah replied and the 7 girls knew it was time for them to be silent once more.
Sarah felt as the link between her and her Biddies opened once more, nothing but unadulterated rage came surging through. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the anger fill her up, turning her blood to fire and her heart to stone.
She turned back to Tally looking all but feral, the anger radiated from every pore. The two looked at each other, both breathing hard in an amalgamation of fear and anger. Sarah turned until she was square on to Tally, the tension in her neck and shoulders not letting up, even as she straightened her spine.
Alder swung her scourge, meeting Tally’s own weak shot in mid air. They both retracted their weapons to swing again but Sarah was quicker. Spinning her body to increase her momentum she threw her whip, knocking Tally off balance and sending her falling backwards. The look on Tally’s face made it clear that she knew she was out of her depth. It was a rigged match at the core of it; Tally never truly stood a chance and they both knew it.
Sarah had over 300 years of practice and easily overwhelmed Tally’s nine months of basic training. She backed Tally up before forcing her to drop to the ground.
Surprising and impressing Sarah, Tally skillfully rolled over her back until she came up on her knees, swung her scourge around her head and clumsily threw it out towards the advancing general. Sarah’s hand flicked out to grasp it in mid air, gripping it a scant half inch from the glowing tip. Tally’s face spoke a thousand words in that moment, a mixture of shock, disbelief, terror and hopelessness
There was a beat between the two of them as they absorbed the events that were happening. Alder wished in that moment that she was anywhere but where she was. She found herself almost thinking that it would have been better for her to just die with her sister all those years ago than to have to be the one to snuff the light of Tally’s life from the world. But she couldn’t go back, no matter how much she wished to, and so she must continue.
She wrapped the pliant leather around her elbow and hauled the redhead to her feet. Alder used Tally’s own scourge to reel the knower in, knowing that if Tally released her scourge the fight would be over. She continued until Tally was held tightly between her hands.
She momentarily noted how good it felt to have the knower so close, if the situation were different this could nearly be called an embrace. The thought was quickly whisked away from her by the biddies and instead replaced by a fresh wave of fury spurring her on. She swung her head, knocking it into the knower’s own skull, a sickening crunch ringing out in the near silent room.
Tally dropped to the ground, sprawled on the concrete dazed and in pain, thoughroughy defeated and hopeless. Alder threw Tally’s scourge to the floor, stepping back slightly as she realized that now she had won she would have to kill Tally…
‘ It’s almost over.’ Gretta, sensing that Sarah needed support at this moment, spoke up.
Mona, one of the newer Biddies joining just before Devon, sent her own reassurance. ‘ We’re with you.
Tara, always the most pragmatic of the Biddies, tackled the issue head on. ‘ Swing true, make it as painless as possible for our girl.’
‘ One for the head, Sarah.’ Devon’s distress was palpable through the link, not having quite got to grips with protecting her feelings yet. She didn’t want to see her friend suffer unnecessarily.
Tally looked up at Alder with fear and confusion, she knew her death was coming and there was nothing to do to stop it. The knower’s head was spinning, was this really the right decision? She was losing her life for a mass murderer, a terrorist but she was also losing her life for the truth, for Nicte to have a second chance.
“And one for the head!” Alder spat as she prepared to make the killing blow.
Once more she drew her arm back, once more preparing to throw the death blow at a woman that she knew given the right scenario she could have come to love, once more wishing she didn’t have to.
“Nooo!” For a second time her scourge arm stopped short, as a voice rang out in protest. This time Raelle Collar rushed forward to stand between Tally and Sarah.
Rae spoke the words with conviction, a hatred glowing in her eyes.
Abigail quickly joined, coming to stand beside Raelle; a united Bellweather unit all willing to risk their lives for each other. The youngest Bellweather completed the declaration.
Sarah looked around in astonishment. Never in nearly 300 years had a witch called for right of proxy but here were not one, but three witches declaring it for another without a second thought. Sarah felt a like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she would not have to take Tally’s life from her today. She would fight each of the Bellweather unit if she had to, and do it gratefully because eventually one of them would overpower her and release her from her duty.
Gregorio joined the group, a quiver in his voice.
Greg moved to pull an overwhelmed Tally to her feet, keeping a steadying arm around her back until she was steady again.
M came to stand beside their coven, and that was the tipping point. Witches from all over the hangar came to stand for Tally. They had been there many months now and every single person who met Tally couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love with her, whether platonically or otherwise. When push came to shove at least 75% of the witches at Fort Salem would give their life for young Tally Craven. She was the best of them, willing to see good in even the darkest witch. She had chosen to join despite her dispensation because she believed she needed to make the world a better place and that resonated with so many of the soldiers.
Sarah was utterly flabbergasted, never had she seen such a sense of unit within her soldiers. She could nearly cry with relief that Tally’s life would be spared, thanking the goddess, the christians god and any other deity that would listen for sparing the girl.
Raelle spoke now, addressing the collection of witches with a maturity and conviction beyond her years. “Nicte is guilty of every crime she was accused of, but the world needs to know why she did what she did. Tell them.”
Sarah breathed hard, her inner turmoil a broiling pit. She wanted to confess, to wash clean her sins before her children but she didn’t know if she had the strength. After nearly 350 years of life Sarah was tired; she didn’t want to be the strong one anymore.
Luckily it appeared that Sekhmet coven held the strength that she now lacked. Tally continued to tell the sorry tale of the start of the Spree. “Nicte was a soldier, just like us. Until the General betrayed her, and tried to erase her from history.”
Tally flung the words out with vitriol, a fury that burned bright, clearly coming from a place of deep pain, and Sarah could feel her mask slipping as she realized just how much she had let down those she swore to protect, Tally most of all.
Tally turned and spoke her next words directly to the still bound form of Nicte. There was pain, hatred and understanding singing from her words. “She started the Spree, and plunged us into twenty years of war; witch against witch.”
Abigail took her turn now, speaking calmly but precisely. “If Nicte is executed, it's one less witch in the world.” She locked eyes with her mother who was visibly shaken. “And that's just what the Camarilla wants: for us to keep killing each other, while they sit back and watch.”
Tally walked towards President Wade, pleading with her to reanalyse the situation. “Nicte should pay for her crimes, but not like this.”
She fixed Alder with a look that could have broken the earth in two it carried enough weight. “And she is not the only guilty one here.”
Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat, Tally’s words piercing through her thin veneer of control and shredding it to tatters. A single tear raced its way down her cheek, the first time she had cried in over 200 years.
The voice of President Wade rang out, unfeeling and uncaring. “General, if you don't do this, we will just carry it out ourselves.”
Sarah looked at President Wade and then back to Tally. She didn’t know what to do.
Everyone always expected her to have the answers, to know what move to make but she still felt like the 17 year old girl who watched her twin slaughtered before her eyes. A large part of herself never matured past that point and she wished she had her mother with her now. To hold her, to pull her face into the crook of her neck, to place a kiss upon her hair. Her mother always knew what to do, when to pick the apples at their sweetest, when to stay and when to run and she would know what to do now. But Sarah didn’t.
She felt adrift on the open sea, alone with no land as far as the eye can see with only a piece of driftwood to keep her afloat.
She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and turned to see her sweet daughter beside her. Anacostia, who was always too good for the army, who was sweet and kind and far too forgiving but who loved fiercely.
Sarah shook her head. “I…. no.”
“General…” Ana started and stopped, realizing in this moment that it was her mother who needed her not her commanding officer. Her voice shook as she spoke her mothers name. “Sarah.”
Alder took a shuddering breath and swallowed the lump in her throat, then nodded her understanding to Anacostia. Her daughter nodded her support and then stepped back to give her mother the floor.
Tara and Gretta having been within not only Sarah’s but each other’s heads for 5 years has reached a point that they could finish each other's thought trains and this was exactly what they did now.
Tara started with, ‘We love you Sarah. ’ ‘Even now.’ Gretta finished off.’
‘We will be with you, ‘till the end.’ Sophie promised.
Devon spoke in a confident voice, a sense of surety in her words. ‘You can do this.’
‘We are with you.’ Sweet little Poppy supplied.
When Alder spoke for the final time as the General of the United States Army her voice trembled with emotion. Tears tracked their way down her cheeks but she didn’t care. These soldiers, her sons and daughters, her children deserved to hear what she had to say. They deserved her apology.
“My fellow soldiers... I am sorry I brought us to this place. Our Ancient Enemy has taken advantage of the conflict between us to fester and spread like an infection that threatens to kill us all. On my watch.”
Taking a beat to compose herself she thought about why she did what she did; when she found the reason she spoke it verbatim.
“I was worried... that I was leaving you unprepared for the future. But you are more ready to face it than I ever was.”
She paused to take a breath, looking round not at the soldiers she had helped train but at the people she had helped grow. The ones she would leave her mantle to, not Petra or Wade but Anacostia, Izadora, Verger and the newest name on that list, Tally. Tally, who had tears falling from her own eyes, even after everything that Alder had done she still cried for the woman she grew.
“Do not make the same mistakes I have. And please, never forget... that we are also human.”
Sarah turned, holding her head high as she faced President Wade and the other dignitaries and high ranking officials. Petra walked towards her, her eyes glistening with unshed tears
The General reached to pull first one then the other epaulet from her shoulders, then the patch which held her military medals. She looked at them in her hands for a moment, truly feeling the pain of everything she was giving up. Before she placed the bundle into Petra’s hands.
When Sarah looked back up, the tears had begun to fall from Petra’s eyes too, glistening on her cheeks in the dim light of the hanger.
Petra held strong and made a solemn promise to the now ex-general “We will meet the Camarilla with storm and fury.”
Before Sarah could respond, Tally’s voice rang out clear and true. “With storm and fury.”
And in a show of solidarity and respect, each and every soldier within the hangar also took up the mantra. “With storm and fury!”
The once General Sarah Alder, now once more just Sarah Alder, turned to face her children for the final time. A smile on her face despite the ache in her heart. Her children would protect the world now, they would take on the mantle and destroy their ancient enemy in a way Sarah never could. She was not born for this, she was born to a poor family in Europe. At 17 she could never imagine that over 300 years later she would be stood where she was now but she wouldn’t change a second of it, not for the world because she knew, even in her missteps, that she did it with the wellbeing of witchkind in her heart.
Mona’s comforting voice broke the silence, the pain she felt evident in her voice but putting on a brave face for Sarah.
‘That’s it, Sarah. Keep walking.’
She coaxed.
‘Don’t look at any of them.’
Poppy instructed.
‘Do not look at Tally.’ Tara reaffirmed.
‘ Don’t look back.’ Alexis directed once they were past the dias in the center of the room and closing in on the hangar doors.
Devon offered a helpful suggestion, ‘You can fall apart when we get home.’ They only had to get back to their barracks and then they could fully absorb everything that had happened.
‘We just have to get home.’ Gretta added, almost as if she wasn’t sure if they were going to make it home at all.
Just as Sarah took her first step out of the hangar she suddenly found herself stepping back inside the hangar again. She stumbled for a moment, completely thrown by the scene in front of her but kept walking.