The Alpha and the Omega: Act III | Chapter 4
06 Sep 2018User1355
ACT III - HEROINECHAPTER 4
The population of New Cambria swelled, the lush planet a beacon of commerce and readily-available Quirium. Rivers of credits flowed through Clan Morgana’s coffers, thanks to the shrewd management of Maximilian Ortega. The system of Ts’in Gu was fast becoming a rival of Harma itself, the Kumo Crew naturally sinking their fingers into the pie of the clan’s prosperity- yet on terms far gentler than their usual exploitative demands.
Yet if the population of New Cambria was swelling, other things were not. Arcturus and Aelina remained very much in savage love, falling into each other’s arms night after night yet failing to conceive a child, even as the months became years. Sola Morgana, ever above the swamp of rumor and petty gossip, could ignore the indignity no longer. The woman who herself had ever been fertile on command could only see her daughter-in-law’s failure to further their line as evidence of divine displeasure. It was with cold resolve that she summoned them both to Dinas Wrach. There they would render account to her and her high priestesses in person, for to fail to bear of spring within a warrior-mating was a grave dereliction.
The stink of politics permeated the audience, with several of the priestesses looking on with private satisfaction as the young couple recoiled in horror at the charges of impiety laid before them. They were all wed, some to foreign nobility, each looking upon Arcturus as the portal to greater standing within the clan. He needed only to be made available for warrior-mating once again, and his mate- though much beloved by the man himself- was vulnerable, failing as she had to produce an heir. So too did the opportunity to again use her son as diplomatic leverage appeal to Sola. There was not a woman in the Sanctum who did not plot the end of his union to further their own ambitions.
For hours mother and son battled, voices and tempers rising. Both swore mighty oaths of righteousness, Arcturus refusing to abandon his mate and Sola refusing to further recognize their union. Finally things came to a head, with the Matriarch rising from her throne and laying an ultimatum at her son’s feet: that he either renounce his barren warrior-mate, or call himself “Morgana” no longer. For what seemed like an eternity mother and son locked eyes, hers imperious and his defiant.
At last Arcturus replied, speaking to his mother and her slithering priestesses with a man’s voice. He took Aelina’s hand in his own, mirroring the way that their palms had been ritualistically split open and pressed together, renewing his solemn commitment to the only woman who had ever brought him peace. There would be no need to renounce him as her son, he declared, for he was no son of hers already. A hush spread over the room as Arcturus and Aelina turned and strode away, the ambitions of many dashed in a single moment. Sola’s hold over the man was broken. Their estrangement would send ripples through the fabric of Pegasi itself.
Yet Arcturus wasn’t the only one who would leave New Cambria that day. He had proven himself a natural leader, one who was generous with his crews yet a fearsome man to cross. Dozens of Clan Morgana’s finest ships followed the former heir into witchspace, choosing exile with a man of action over allegiance to a reclusive Matriarch and her useless priestesses.
The exodus stung Sola Morgana to her very core. Gone was the babe in her arms who had given her the strength to persevere as Jyrron’s slavewife. Gone was the lingering part of her humanity that had been preserved by what passed for maternal af ection. All her hopes would now reside in Cadfael and Aeron, yet the hole that had been torn open in her soul remained empty.
Wound had now been met with wound, and the same poison with which Arcturus had filled his own emptiness began to seep into Sola’s. Time marched forward, and her face became drawn and pale, her features angular and bony. Lines asserted themselves upon her features, never entirely disappearing even with the best lighting or cosmetics. The final traces of youthful passion died a slow, suffocating death. The Matriarch of Clan Morgana withdrew from public life, her old energy and dynamism replaced with spinning endless webs of cunning plots from her Sanctum. She ruled the priestesshood of the Crone, and the priestesshood in turn spoke with her voice across a dozen systems. Maximilian was left free to see to the worldly aspects of administration, where his talent for endless wealth creation was put to effective use.
Years passed, and Arcturus garnered fame as a freebooter, selling his services as a mercenary in some instances and a pirate in others. In mocking emulation of his mother he too raided Gal-Cop shipments, arrogantly independent of her Quirium stores, he and Aelina the very picture of horrific- or romantic- Pegasi outlaws.
Sola, too, continued down her own path. She grew ever more dogmatic in her devotion to the Crone, going days at a time without sleep, alone in the Inner Sanctum of Dinas Wrach, waiting for the presence to once hiss its wisdom from the darkness. Yet it did not. Natural light became a rare thing to
ever grace the Matriarch’s skin, and even basic necessities such as eating became an onerous chore, so devoted was she to chasing the divine that had served her so well in her youth. Her temper grew short and her words grew scarce; silver as well as black cascaded from her scalp. Age spots appeared on her chest and hands, but were of no consequence. Maximilian hadn’t seen the former in several years, and hadn’t held the latter in nearly as long. Nor did Sola have the slightest desire for him or anyone else to do so. Her only concerns were of power, one foot in the mortal and the other in the divine realms.
Sola Morgana was getting old, and fast coming to resemble the very Crone that she so fervently worshipped.
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