Fic: Destiny's Troubled Path
Fic for
occhallenge
Title: Destiny's Troubled Path
Prompt: Table 4: Run
Fandom: Charmed
Character: Lena (OFC Claim), Wyatt, Bianca
Rating: PG-13
Summary: (Original Future) Lena can no longer stand by Wyatt's side, but there is nowhere left to run.
Lena ran down the ornate halls of Wyatt’s castle, eyes filled with tears she could not yet shed. She no longer could think of the reasons why she had gone to Wyatt, of her premonition, of this being the only way to save not only herself, but Chris as well. All she could see now was a darkness threatening to overcome, to consume her; darkness in the form of her cousin with a laugh like poison and eyes that seemed to pierce straight through her.
Lena reached her room, grasping at the doorknob with blood-covered hands. The knob responded to her touch, the magic encoded to allow access to only her and Wyatt. “Lena!” a woman’s voice called to her. She shook her head, throwing the door open. A hand caught it behind her, following her into the room. “Lena, what’s going on?”
Lena ignored her, staring around the room in confusion, trying to figure out what she should do next, what her options were. She did not even know why she went back here, all she wanted to do was run and run until she reached the end of the Earth, and then she would keep running until she reached oblivion. Cole tried to speak to her in her mind but she pushed away the sound of his voice, pushed his presence away. She rubbed her hand on her face, smudging blood across her cheek, and then caught sight of the red staining her for the first time. “Oh God,” she whispered, mesmerized and terrified by the crimson coating her hands and arms. “No, no, no,” she cried, rushing to the bathroom.
Catching her reflection in the full-length mirror Lena stopped abruptly, transfixed. She was wearing a tight black outfit with long pants, short sleeves, and boots. Patches of blood had soaked through much of it, along with the stains on her arms, hands, and face. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun, a stark contrast to her face. Her skin had paled recently, not enough access to the sun had diminished the color, and it only made the crimson stand out more. With shaking hands, Lena pulled off her shirt, throwing it to the side, and dragged her pants and boots off. Standing solely in her bra and panties, she threw the tap on. Lena scrubbed carelessly at her hands, rubbing hard to remove it, leaving her skin raw and abused.
“Let the object of objection become but a dream as I cause the seen to become unseen,” the other woman said softly, standing just behind her. Abruptly the blood all disappeared from Lena. She stopped, staring at her clean skin. “What happened?” the woman whispered, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“I… I can’t…” Lena muttered. “I can’t do this anymore,” she finally stuttered out.
“Yes, you can.”
“No Bianca, I can’t!” she roared, turning on the assassin. “I have to get out of here.” She pushed past Bianca and to the bedroom, throwing the closet doors open.
Bianca followed reluctantly. “Lena, just tell me what happened.”
“You know what happened!” she yelled, pulling a pair of worn jeans on and turning to Bianca. “I killed people today, people who didn’t deserve it!”
“I’m sorry,” Bianca responded, lowering her eyes.
“I’m not like you Bianca, I can’t just… I can’t just turn myself off and not think about it like you can. I can’t stay here. He’s going to make me do this again, and again, and I can’t survive that.” She turned away from her friend, finding a pale blue T-shirt and shrugging it on. She pulled on a pair of shoes - running shoes, she needed to be able to run.
“What about everything we’ve been working for?” Bianca demanded. “You’re just going to abandon all of that?! You know what will happen if you leave, what Wyatt will do! He’ll kill you, he’ll kill Chris! And then what will we be left with? We’ll never be able to stop him without you two.”
“I can’t stop him,” Lena said quietly. “He’s the strongest there is. Chris won’t hurt him, and I can’t kill him alone. All I’m doing here is delaying the inevitable. Wyatt will keep wanting more, asking more of me. And if I keep giving in, keep agreeing to it if only to someday, possibly be able to dethrone him, then all I’m going to do is lose myself in the process. Don’t you get it, don’t you see? Halliwells aren’t meant for this! We’re not supposed to be killers, murderers! I’m forsaking everything my family has ever stood for! My mother… my father… they would never agree with this… they would never…”
“And so you let Wyatt win?” Bianca shouted. “You’re going to abandon all of this, abandon the Resistance and Chris and me! And why? Because you’re too weak to do what needs to be done?!”
“Don’t talk to me like that… don’t you dare talk to me like that! Why does it have to be me?! Why can’t Chris do it?! Why can’t someone else do it?” Her voice broke on the last part. “I… I watched Tyler die for this… I killed for this… and I… we’re no closer to stopping him then we were six months ago… I can’t do this for another six months… I just won’t survive it.”
Bianca approached her, putting her arms around the younger girl and holding her close. “It has to be you, Lena. The world needs you to do this.”
“The world can look after itself for once,” she responded quietly before shimmering out of Bianca’s embrace, disappearing from the castle.
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She reappeared on the outskirts of San Francisco, alone and empty-handed, carrying nothing but the clothes on her back and the athame hidden within her arm. She felt the tattoo burned into her wrist begin to quiver, knew immediately that Wyatt had felt her escape, that he was using their blood bond to search for her. She whispered a concealing spell, hoped it would hide her well, and began to run.
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She ran without direction or thought, allowing her mind to retreat and her body to take control. The physical exertion felt good, the chance to move without the watchful eyes of Wyatt upon her liberating. She ran through fields and streets, keeping away from other people. Hours later, her tired legs forced her to stop, taking refuge in an abandoned barn for the night, wondering what the morning would bring.
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“Lena, why?” Kelly choked out, fingers weakening in their efforts to remove Lena’s hand from her throat. Lena stared back stonily, and silently. She plunged her athame into the girl’s heart, making her death as quick and painless as she could, feeling Kelly’s powers transfer to her through the weapon, one more power to add to her stash, one more sacrifice in a war she seriously doubted they would ever win.
“Good work, Lena,” Wyatt said from somewhere behind her, his hand suddenly on her shoulder. “Excellent.” She turned and saw bodies laid out all around the room, a hidden base of Wyatt’s enemies, the resistance witches assembled to dethrone Wyatt and save humanity. And now they lay dead.
Dead by her hand.
She felt sick, completely overcome and ill. She wanted nothing more than to rip herself out of her own skin, sink someplace low, disappear forever, cease to exist.
“Lena…” She turned to the sound of her name, and saw Tyler lying on the ground, Darklighter arrows plunged through him.
“No…” Lena whispered. “No…”
“All your fault…” Tyler hissed. “Monster!”
Lena woke abruptly, gasping and shaking. She wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging her legs and rocking as tears streamed down her face. She calmed down a few minutes later, wiping the tears from her eyes. Tyler had seemed nothing but sympathetic throughout the terrible things that happened, but she couldn’t help but wonder if her sweet Whitelighter had hated her at the end, just before he died. Her father would have told her to stop thinking about it, that the past is only useful so long as it serves as a behavioral guide. After it has outlived its usefulness it should be discarded or else it holds the power to overwhelm the present.
Thinking of her father made her swallow back her tears and stand strong. She wanted to speak to him so badly, she needed his help more than ever before. She was certain that he would know what to do. Lena’s vision went white and suddenly an image flashed through her mind of an isolated island in the middle of a blue sea. Olive trees swayed in the breeze, and white-washed buildings in ruins dotted the landscape. In the center was a brazier with a single blue flame rising toward the sky.
“The island,” she whispered, remembering stories of the ancient home of the Kalos witches, the island protected by blood magic, making it impossible for anyone to find if they were not a member of the family. Her father had spoken of it often when Wyatt became the Source, told her that he wanted to take her and Chris there, protect them. The island was the answer to all of her problems, and she could not believe that she did not think of it before.
Lena was the last remaining Kalos witch, the only one capable of finding the island. She could take the Resistance witches and their families with her, bring Chris and Bianca, they could live in peace and safety for the rest of their lives. They wouldn’t have to worry about Wyatt or the rest of the world, they could survive this.
Strengthened by this decision, Lena remembered the rest of the story, that the only way to find the island was to use a special map that he had kept hidden and safe. Her first thought was that it had to be in the family Vault, but then she remembered that Wyatt had the Vault. He had somehow broken through centuries of magical protections in order to enter the room, to take back the Grimoir Chris had stolen from him. That had been after her father’s death, but he knew ahead of time that the Vault was not perfect, was not impenetrable, he would not have hidden the map there. There was only one place that the map would be safe, but that would require going back to the vineyard, going back home. By now Wyatt had to have noticed that she was gone, was really gone, not just blowing off steam. The vineyard was the first place he would look. But if she got the map… she would be safe, her friends and family would be safe, forever. It was worth the risk.
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Lena ran for hours, not trusting to shimmer because Wyatt might be able to trace the ripple of magic that power created. The sun was dipping once more when she finally stared down a hill at the place she once considered her home. Acres of overgrown grape vines trailed behind a pile of rubble that had one been a stately manor house. She shuddered as she remembered Wyatt destroying the house, blowing it to pieces with Chris, her father, and herself inside. She shook the memory out of her head and let her gaze trail away from the ruins and to the Kalos family tomb just beyond it, crowded by trees. She hurried down the hill, feeling the whisper of magic on the air, the power of her ancestors caressing her as she passed onto their sacred land.
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Moonlight passed through a star cut-out on the roof, casting spires of light throughout the marble mausoleum. Lena felt evil at the periphery of the property, drawing closer, ready to encircle her, and knew she had to act quickly.
Lena stood in the very center, over the circular stone inscribed in Ancient Greek with the words “Enter into The Kingdom of Death with Head Held High”. Just below this stone lay the map, her only chance to live life on her terms. She stepped off of the stone, stood just beside it and held out her hands. She took a deep breath and then the floor began to rumble. She closed her eyes, focusing as the marble below her began to crack. She steadied her power, adjusted its aim, and then the inscribed stone came loose, slid to the side.
She knelt beside the opening, reaching into the small cavern below. Her fingers skittered around the enclosed space, and came into contact with absolutely nothing. “No… no…” she whispered frantically, sending a beam of light into it, seeing that the chamber was empty. The map had been taken.
“NO!” she roared, sending a ripple of magic through the Mausoleum. The windows blew out in a hail of broken glass. She threw the stone back in place and stood, screaming at the sky, angrier than she had ever been, all of her hopes and desperate dreams crashing down on her once again. Her fingers clenched into fists, nails biting deeply into her palms. She spun wildly and stared around the room until her eyes lit on her father’s tomb.
“What am I supposed to do, Dad?” she asked, running her fingers over his name. Alec Kalos. She wished that he could respond, that he could help her. She wanted bother of her parents there, Phoebe Halliwell and Alec Kalos. Together they were a formidable force, and she just knew that they would have answers for her. But Wyatt prevented the dead from contacting the living.
“What am I supposed to do now?” she whispered, the rage leaving her to be replaced with despair.
“You have to stick to the plan,” Cole’s voice whispered gently in her mind. “You have to go back.” A shudder of fear and revulsion passed through her at the mere notion, and tears sprung in her eyes.
“I can’t.”
“You can. It’s the only way, and you know it.”
Wordlessly, Lena turned and left the Mausoleum, walked slowly to the rubble of her former home. She sank down on a crumbled pillar and waited.
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Lena sensed him before she saw him, that terrible power that was Wyatt Halliwell. He appeared four feet away from where she sat hunched over on the pillar, observing her for several moments before approaching her.
“Are you done trying to run away?” he asked, looming over her.
Lena looked up at him and slowly nodded.
“Good,” he said, extending his hand. Lena slowly reached out towards him, knowing that accepting his hand now would mean consequences and punishment later, would mean becoming something dark and deceitful for just the mere glimmer of a chance that someday she might be able to stop him. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand in his, resigned to the destiny that lay before her.