FF7: "Mary's Alabaster Jar"
Fandom: FF7
Title: Mary’s Alabaster Jar
Pairing: Mama Strife/Vincent Valentine
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: angst, dub-con, dark content, strong religious overtones
A/N: Inspired by a conversation with artimusdin . Yet more to blame on her. :D Also inspired by this quote from the wikipedia entry on Lucrecia: “Fearing for his life, Lucrecia exposed (Vincent) to stagnated mako, causing the being known as Chaos to be absorbed into his body. Though his life was saved, he was left in a feral madness.”
Summary: In the darkness of Nibelheim, a prayer is answered.
Mary’s Alabaster Jar
ShinRa Mansion settled directly over the old worship grounds for Hel. Ulfhilde Strife was positive they had done it on purpose, destroying the old religion and replacing it with their own. The people of Nibelheim had been only too eager to accept their new god, adoring ShinRa for the gift of technology and running water.
They had followed ShinRa like sheep instead of the wolves they should be.
Holding her skirts up and walking toward the mansion, Ulfhilde scorned them all. Let them have their materialistic, earth-bound god; she would pray to those whose strength went deeper than the earth and the metals and the grave; Ulfhilde was no fool.
Midnight was coming. The rest of the town huddled in their dens of wood and stone, afraid of what lay beyond their safe homes. The solstice was coming, the nights long and deep. Ulfhilde was alone in the dark, and she was happy that way.
The dark and the cold was Hel’s territory; it was not safe, but safety meant little when you were destined to die, anyway.
No matter what the building housed, it had been Hel’s place of worship first. The door was unlocked, hadn’t been locked in years. Ever since the last of ShinRa’s scientists had left, the building had been abandoned. Breaking in the first time had been easy, and each time had been easier still.
Ulfhilde could hear monsters prowling in the dark, but she walked fearlessly forward. She walked to the center of the room where the stone altar had been before. Her skirts rustled around her as she knelt.
The room was cold, but she ignored it, closing her eyes and praying quietly. Power rumbled throughout the mountains, and even if everyone else looked away, Ulfhilde knew enough to pay her respects.
She prayed and the power swept through her, so fierce it took her breath away. She had never felt it this intensely. Hel’s icy touch brushed against her soul, and she shuddered. Something was coming. She felt it with every heartbeat.
Ulfhilde prayed, throwing herself into each word. She prayed for guidance and strength and she told herself to find a Nibel wolf in the morning to slaughter. Something with this amount of force demanded a sacrifice beyond a simple rabbit.
Then she heard a snarl behind her and thought dimly that Hel’s brother was already here.
Hands grabbed her and yanked her away from the altar's resting place. Ulfhilde immediately reached for the dagger hidden in her skirts, her other hand an open palm ready to break her attacker’s nose --
And Hel touched her again, cold and powerful.
Ulfhilde went limp.
The thing above her snarled and its crimson eyes glowed brightly in the dark. Its beautiful face looked almost human but its eyes were maddened like a wolf caught in a trap, more than ready to bite through flesh and muscle and bone to get free. Its hands held her down, one feverishly hot and the other deathly cold, and then Ulfhilde closed her eyes.
The creature tore at her clothes and spread her legs. It hurt but she gritted her teeth and bore it. The creature seemed mindless, driven by the most primitive of urges.
And by Hel’s hand.
Only when it howled its release did Ulfhilde open her eyes. Those crimson eyes had lost their madness and stared simply with horror. Ulfhilde stared back, her chest heaving. She felt blood and semen trickle down, smear on her thighs.
Before tonight, no man had ever touched her. Ulfhilde had been proud of that.
She was even more proud now.
With a pained howl, the creature pulled away from her. She watched it vanish into the dark.
Slowly, painfully, Ulfhilde hauled herself to her feet. She reached between her legs and pulled back bloodied fingers. Carefully, she smeared the fluid onto the wood where the altar had once stood.
“Hel’s will be done,” Ulfhilde told herself, staggering from the mansion. She pressed her bloodied hand to her belly. She had been loyal and she had been faithful and she had been rewarded.
Nine months later, her gift was born.
She called him Cloud.
Title: Mary’s Alabaster Jar
Pairing: Mama Strife/Vincent Valentine
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: angst, dub-con, dark content, strong religious overtones
A/N: Inspired by a conversation with artimusdin . Yet more to blame on her. :D Also inspired by this quote from the wikipedia entry on Lucrecia: “Fearing for his life, Lucrecia exposed (Vincent) to stagnated mako, causing the being known as Chaos to be absorbed into his body. Though his life was saved, he was left in a feral madness.”
Summary: In the darkness of Nibelheim, a prayer is answered.
Mary’s Alabaster Jar
ShinRa Mansion settled directly over the old worship grounds for Hel. Ulfhilde Strife was positive they had done it on purpose, destroying the old religion and replacing it with their own. The people of Nibelheim had been only too eager to accept their new god, adoring ShinRa for the gift of technology and running water.
They had followed ShinRa like sheep instead of the wolves they should be.
Holding her skirts up and walking toward the mansion, Ulfhilde scorned them all. Let them have their materialistic, earth-bound god; she would pray to those whose strength went deeper than the earth and the metals and the grave; Ulfhilde was no fool.
Midnight was coming. The rest of the town huddled in their dens of wood and stone, afraid of what lay beyond their safe homes. The solstice was coming, the nights long and deep. Ulfhilde was alone in the dark, and she was happy that way.
The dark and the cold was Hel’s territory; it was not safe, but safety meant little when you were destined to die, anyway.
No matter what the building housed, it had been Hel’s place of worship first. The door was unlocked, hadn’t been locked in years. Ever since the last of ShinRa’s scientists had left, the building had been abandoned. Breaking in the first time had been easy, and each time had been easier still.
Ulfhilde could hear monsters prowling in the dark, but she walked fearlessly forward. She walked to the center of the room where the stone altar had been before. Her skirts rustled around her as she knelt.
The room was cold, but she ignored it, closing her eyes and praying quietly. Power rumbled throughout the mountains, and even if everyone else looked away, Ulfhilde knew enough to pay her respects.
She prayed and the power swept through her, so fierce it took her breath away. She had never felt it this intensely. Hel’s icy touch brushed against her soul, and she shuddered. Something was coming. She felt it with every heartbeat.
Ulfhilde prayed, throwing herself into each word. She prayed for guidance and strength and she told herself to find a Nibel wolf in the morning to slaughter. Something with this amount of force demanded a sacrifice beyond a simple rabbit.
Then she heard a snarl behind her and thought dimly that Hel’s brother was already here.
Hands grabbed her and yanked her away from the altar's resting place. Ulfhilde immediately reached for the dagger hidden in her skirts, her other hand an open palm ready to break her attacker’s nose --
And Hel touched her again, cold and powerful.
Ulfhilde went limp.
The thing above her snarled and its crimson eyes glowed brightly in the dark. Its beautiful face looked almost human but its eyes were maddened like a wolf caught in a trap, more than ready to bite through flesh and muscle and bone to get free. Its hands held her down, one feverishly hot and the other deathly cold, and then Ulfhilde closed her eyes.
The creature tore at her clothes and spread her legs. It hurt but she gritted her teeth and bore it. The creature seemed mindless, driven by the most primitive of urges.
And by Hel’s hand.
Only when it howled its release did Ulfhilde open her eyes. Those crimson eyes had lost their madness and stared simply with horror. Ulfhilde stared back, her chest heaving. She felt blood and semen trickle down, smear on her thighs.
Before tonight, no man had ever touched her. Ulfhilde had been proud of that.
She was even more proud now.
With a pained howl, the creature pulled away from her. She watched it vanish into the dark.
Slowly, painfully, Ulfhilde hauled herself to her feet. She reached between her legs and pulled back bloodied fingers. Carefully, she smeared the fluid onto the wood where the altar had once stood.
“Hel’s will be done,” Ulfhilde told herself, staggering from the mansion. She pressed her bloodied hand to her belly. She had been loyal and she had been faithful and she had been rewarded.
Nine months later, her gift was born.
She called him Cloud.