Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6206440.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
  Fandom:
      Original_Work
  Relationship:
      Original_Male_Character/Original_Female_Character, Original_Male
      Character/Original_Male_Character, Original_Female_Character/Original
      Female_Character, Original_Male_Character/Original_Non_Binary_Character,
      Original_Female_Character/Original_Non_Binary_Character
  Character:
      Original_Male_Character, Original_Female_Character, Original_Non_Binary
      Character
  Additional Tags:
      Succubi_&_Incubi, Minotaur_-_Freeform, Witches, Werewolf, Wererat, Rat
      Man_-_Freeform, Wolf_Man, Ram_Men, magic_transformation, Magic
      genderswap, Genderswap
  Series:
      Part 1 of A_Nation_of_Glass, Part 1 of Lord_and_Master
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-03-09 Chapters: 1/? Words: 2827
****** And Starwards Drifts the Stricken World ******
by Niconsernetta
Summary
     Her attempt failed as Misery’s eyes widened in horror, “You hid
     Ronové as a woman didn’t you?” Naamah gasped in abject horror taking
     silence for an affirmative. “Lilith! Ronové is the incubus son of a
     minotaur and you hid him as a woman! What were you thinking!”
     “Asmodeus turned out alright.”
Notes
     This work was originally posted on the blog at: https://
     niconsernetta.wordpress.com/2014/10/28/and-starwards-drifts-the-
     stricken-world-rough-draft-false-start/
      
     [Creative Commons License]

And Starwards Drifts the Stricken World by Niconsernetta is licensed under a
Creative_Commons_Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives_4.0_International
License.
Based on a work at https://niconsernetta.wordpress.com/2014/10/28/son-of-the-
captain-commander-fragment/.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://
archiveofourown.org/works/6206440/chapters/14218480.
Icy winds tore through the shallow valley and ripped at his clothes like angry
harpies as he stared wide eyed at the opening in the earth, a sense of
wrongness so evil, so profound he wanted to turn tail and run screaming into
the woods like a pup. Anger at the cowardice kept him rooted to the spot though
no bravery or indignation could make him enter the long corridor that smelled
of rich earth and old death; uncomfortable scents that reminded him of the
fieldwork he had done during World War II, the hidden Nazi laboratories had
given off the same vibe and the old alpha remembered the horrors found within.
But the thought of a laboratory on American soil, in the United States, it was
unthinkable and he blamed the paranoia of the Cold War for the existence of the
place, they had not focused on destroying the cult as they should have done at
the time.
While the Olympic Peninsula held an unusually large population of witches, many
of which were questionable at best, it was highly unlikely that one witch would
ruin the celebration of the entire coven it wasn’t unheard of. And Behemoths.
This, however, was not the work of a Behemoth mother because she would’ve dug
her den closer to a large city where there were murderers, drug addicts, and
rapists enough to feed her kit and no one could have gotten within ten miles of
the hole alive. In any case, Behemoths didn’t smell defiled so the unholy union
of science and magic wasn’t their work.
So that left witches and since their entire coven had been there for the
celebration when the ‘earthquake’ hit and tore the ley line he had three
hundred suspects. The transdimensional interstate system was the primary mode
of transportation between the Inner and Outerlands with designated “off ramps”
supported by gates constructed in standing stones shaped like a megalithic ‘Ω’
that had become the Greek’s Omega. That in itself was strange, tampering with
the larger lines usually resulted in death and smaller lines resulting in
serious injury and only three witches were dead… but someone had ripped a line
intentionally in the middle to redirect traffic. It would take the entire coven
to do that or a ridiculously strong creature to do that but they wouldn’t land
in the woods of Washington, they’d announce themselves.
Insofar no ‘Warden had been alerted but a team had been assigned to scour the
woods for anything unusual;’ they had only caught an unorganized band of
wolfwere teenagers hunting for sport, human teenagers partying and getting so
drunk they were a danger to the safety of the woods, and a rapist who the
police had been looking for. With no other alternative they called a Kazahan to
take a look.
While not particularly strong physically the direct descendants of Lade Kasaha
had control over the animals most considered to be vermin so that no one had to
actually go into the hole and suffer nightmares from hard experience. It really
was for the best, besides there were a whole lot of rabbits in the woods if you
knew where to look.
The Kazahan was thorough and careful, a tender thing as quiet as the mouse with
the attention span of a hunting cat. She flinched violently, eyes wide she
whispered harshly, “It is a gate, an unnatural one someone has constructed, I
can’t tell if it has been opened. The name on it is Andromalius.”
A foul wind ripped up the corridor and with it the fresh scent of blood, she
flinched bodily and toppled backwards onto the snow, stone dead. His balls
jumped into his throat as he watched her head come completely free. He turned
to run but hadn’t made it a step before he fell to the ground dead.
                                     -ooo-
The old man frowned thoughtfully at the rabbit that lay mutilated on the floor
before him, only recognizable because he had personally minced it into tiny
bits a minute ago. He ran fingers through the snow white, neatly trimmed Van
Dyke and turned goat slitted blue eyes back to the construct carefully carved
into the limestone of the cavern. His eyes carefully studied the three thousand
runes carved into the rock, if even one of them was even marginally incorrect
the gate would not allow passage through it.
They were perfect, each line a mark over the magnetic chalk he had used; the
witch had worked tirelessly to ensure the gate would be usable in the future as
long as the entrance was accessible. He could smell the man’s sweat and see the
practice trail on the ground, he would reward the man. As much as he would have
preferred having the woman here or even a witch in general he needed the human
male to get to Seattle. Not the most intelligent creature in the world the man
was blindly loyal to the witch woman and the witch woman was all but obsessed
with the cause as her mother and grandmother had been. Her obsession had given
Shax a human skin to wear to their meeting.
Her fingered his three piece Armani suit, absently noting the black fabric
matching the charcoal of his skin, a skin he would soon hide for the next
nineteen to twenty years. He spared a glance at the human marveling at his
attention to detail within the cavern and the care taken to ensure that no one
would be able to spot the differences between Tobin Veloce and the High Ram
Tobin Veloce. An honorable man that the Ram could respect, “Lord Shax,” with
the accept of the Great Steppe.
“Excellent work, Tobin. Wait for me outside.” The man left without a word,
resolute in his silence, as Shax examined the face on the silver Rolex on his
left wrist. The timing had to be exact despite the radical difference in time
on each side of the gate. Thirteen seconds later the almost audible click of
magic as the limestone hollow between the arches shone like liquid crystal.
The door opened as a point of intense white hot light, a starburst of brilliant
blue before the throne room came into full view. He swept into a low bow before
the mistress of Andromalius’ Court. Rightfully, the succubus was a concubine
but Andromalius had declared Lilith his wife and to argue with the Bull was
suicide. Regardless of custom Lilith bore Andromalius a son which had
solidified the union between Andromalius and Belial making the child and the
army of the child could call a threat to the Crone. If one looked at the true
motivation behind the kidnapping which caused the San Fransisco Incident one
would hide such a child too.
Out of respect and modesty he kept his eyes averted from the blonde woman as
she held her son for what could be the last time. She coddled the baby to her
breast, tiny arms reaching from the swaddling to wrap fingers around the three
she held in offering. He made no comment on the scent of tears; succubi might
be sex crazed fields that drained their victims dry but one would be a fool to
believe that they did not adore their children as Behemoth females did.
He stepped completely through the barrier and held his hands out, her arms
shook visible from what could only be agony as she placed her son in Shax’s
arms. His young master blinked up at him slowly, hard intelligence in those
eyes as Shax stepped backwards and Lilith’s glamour fell into place. The full
body glamour would hide Ronové as a female until he grew too strong for the
subtle spell.
The paleness of his skin flushed to a more human hue as the tiny tail
evaporated into invisible nothingness; the physical attachment of the spell
settling as a coin around his neck as those impossibly grey eyes expanded to
make the entirely too oval pupil. However no small or large magic could make
the pupil round, they would draw women in and repel men as the eyes of the son
of a succubus were meant to. Shax scowled, Ronové would have to beat the women
away with a stick in fifteen or so years.
Turning his back on the gate he strode purposefully out of the cavern, the babe
held to his chest firmly but delicately, not watching as the earth rolled in
waves to conceal the gate. He exited the cave and adjusted his bundle knowing
that Tobin would follow him to the car they’d left three miles away on the
road. A three miles passed in comparable silence during which Ronové slumbered.
Tobin secured the babe into the car seat and started the vehicle, turning on
the heater, before turning to the Ram. Shax reached out, “This will not hurt.”
                                     -ooo-
Tatia cradled the child in her arms, the little demon black haired and
beautiful, absolutely perfect. Her true child, the one she was meant to raise
who had been far too holy to touch and guard with her own soul, hers only after
his true mother had given birth to him. The only baby she could, would ever
love wholeheartedly. The mangled corpse of her own child proof of this.
She examined the silver coin, marveling at the seamless magic hidden as a
common spell of protection already marked with Ronové’s pseudonym ‘R. Gillian
Caderi’. The swaddling itself also bore an unusual spell to preserve the scent
of his mother, never to be diluted or dirty it had been essential for
separating Lilith and Ronové. Both young incubi and succubi as well as calves
were very much attached to their mothers and home to the point where separation
anxiety was a common cause of death for newborns.
All she had to do now was raise the child that Daniel would foolishly accept as
his own or he would die in an accident or end up going missing. That Tobin
would take care of, the scum she had married to be in the position she needed
to be in to be on North America’s Governmental Coven. It allowed her a certain
liberty of motion and legal freedom that called for more believable cloud among
the ‘Warden’s organization and Ronové’s entire existence depended too absolute
secrecy. Letting the ‘Wardens in on the plan meant more loose ends to tie p,
more people the Crone could use to find Ronové. As it were only one person had
all the information to find Ronové and Shax was silent.
Well, she wouldn’t put the knowledge past Asmodeus. She knew well of Asmodeus
as all of the Stonewater Coven did. “Tobin, does Asmodeus know much of Ronové?”
the child turned her head to look at the woman who spoke. “Would Asmodeus know
where we are and where we are going?” the though chilled her to the bone.
“If Asmodeus knows anything the book keeper won’t make a move until odds are in
their favor, they’ve always been a shrewd gambler with no tell, Lady Tatia.”
                                     -ooo-
Their leg ached with the dull radiating throb that could only mean that it was
going to rain later on tonight as if that was anything new. They hated that
arrogant bastard more and more as the days wore on and moving the company to
Portland where it rained almost as much as Seattle or the United Kingdom didn’t
improve their mood. Why would anyone attack a five year old and remove their
leg only to replace it with the leg of a rooster, then once the normal leg grew
back proceed to throw said seven year old into a thousand foot deep canyon.
After repeated trauma their leg never healed properly, the pain could be
managed by a brace, proper exercises and the like but when it rained they
needed a cane. It hurt entirely too bad to do much more than lay on their bed
or couch and watch bad B movies on the flat screen TC on the wall. If things
were going well and the woman was on this level their mother would be over.
Now unsettling news was coming from home, news that involved attacks on
children both Behemoth and Talifil alike. It made them worry, only the Crone
had the man power or the balls to make such open movements. No one else would
waste troops on attacking the Black Lake or actually charging Andromalius’
holdings looking for Ronové of all creatures. It was a ridiculous but, where
did Shax move the baby? The clever bastard was smart enough to use positively
ancient means to get to a level where he could move around discretely, where he
could hide in plain sight.
They learned all for the way back in their chair, eyes glazed with far sight,
they would get an unpleasant visit later today but they doubted the big man
would do anything to them now. Not after what they had done to their worthless
father. It had been centuries in the making and vengeance had been long and
horrible but the message was clear: no one got a leg up over Asmodeus, no one
got away with bullying or harassing Asmodeus.
The heavy door on the other side of their office swung open unceremoniously and
they groaned out loud at the disruption. Only one creature ever dared to
disrupt the brooding Asmodeus, the normally genial creature was a terror when
enraged. But then it had been Samael who had flown the young Asmodeus from the
bottom of the canyon and defend them ever since.
Unusually destructive Sam had been relegated to the menial duties of managing
the damned, read humans that had passed on, in hell, read a rather
uncomfortable level of the Connectivity that humans were frequently getting
stuck in. As a kind of rehabilitation before rebirth. Sometimes there were
accidents that were people who had crossed without dying. In which case they
would end up in the office of Asmodeus.
They put their feet up on the desk, letting some of the custom glamour leaking
showing their nature as the monster child of the succubus Naamah. The wings
were a bit much but they really did accentuated the curly crimson coat that
covered their body.
A young incubus really should learn how to use his natural ability to his
advantage even if he was born genderless. A lesion their mother taught them
very well, intimidating humans was like an unspoken racial requirement.
Something someone would have to tell Ronové, teach Ronové, and they were
family.
“I don’t belong in hell!” the man was already screaming in the hallway,
fanatics were always Uncle Sam’s favorite, fun to torment. Unfortunately
Asmodeus cared very little for anything or anyone that was not Uncle Same,
mother and her sisters, and the family on their mother’s side.
“Of course you don’t belong in hell. This is a business, you understand? You
have been placed in hell entirely by accident and because I don’t give a damn
I’m taking you to someone who does.”
“Lucifer?” Samael drug the human through the door.
                                     -ooo-
She stretched across the chaise elegantly, eyes narrowing in pleasure as her
back gave a satisfying crack. Her eyes never left the depressed form of her
sister, all but bawling into her tea cup as Naamah retold the horrors of being
unable to protect a child. But then raising Asmodeus had been a nightmare until
Samael had made efforts to defend the child. Then there had been the whole
incident with Sarah, all in all Naamah was convinced she was a horrible mother.
Who knew that female demons had the same worries as other mothers? “You raised
Asmoedus while despite harassment form Micheal. I remember when I had Fury, I
was convinced that he was going to die when he lost his baby teeth. And then
when Catastrophe attacked my Cruelty every day for a century, now nothing
surprises him.”
Naamah gave the blonde Behemoth a watery smile, Misery’s red eyes flashed as
she eyed Lilith. “Cruelty is a fine specimen of the male form.”
“As is Andromalius and thus so Ronové will be. Hiding him was his best chance,
dear. It demonstrates your love for him as hard as it is to be away from him.”
Lilith blanced at her sister’s words trying to hdie her face in the darkness of
her own hair.
Her attempt failed as Misery’s eyes widened in horror, “You hid Ronové as a
woman didn’t you?” Naamah gasped in abject horror taking silence for an
affirmative. “Lilith! Ronové is the incubus son of a minotaur and you hid him
as a woman! What were you thinking!”
“Asmodeus turned out alright.”
“Asmdeus chose male as a default go to, within minutes of their birth they were
switching genders. They are genderless at the core but Ronové,” Naamah shook
her head and groaned, “Cluster fuck.”
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