Work Text:
Linbarrow had grown quieter in the past two months.
For a moment, Angela had thought that the world was going to end. The superior, slain by a terrible beast. The terrible beast, revealed to be James in disguise, slain by Hedwig. Hedwig, returned to her cell, to resume her duties as anchoress. The bishop, fled. Katherine, exiled. The three teenagers, missing, presumably dead. The builders, afraid, packed up and left. The village, beset by strange maladies.
Everything was falling apart.
But even when everything fell apart, Angela still had to wake up in the morning, still had to pray, still had to eat, still had to empty her chamber pots. The world kept on going.
And everything was quieter now. The sisters of Linbarrow, whorish sinners that they all were, had been behaving. There were no more strange incidents. Winter soldiered on, but spring would come eventually, bringing with it new life, and a hope for redemption.
Angela sat in the superior’s old office, pouring over ledgers and accounts. Her office now. It had been scrubbed clean of blood and ash. Every once in a while she would catch a hint of smoke and rancid iron.
A waning light came in through the window, her overlook onto the grounds below, covered in snow. Quiet. Still. Unchanging.
Angela was in charge. Her sisters were behaving. Evil no longer stalked the halls of Linbarrow. Things were quiet now.
It was everything she’d ever wanted.
The numbers on the page swam together. It was hard to focus. She'd been at this too long.
Becoming the Mother Superior involved a lot of responsibility. When she was prioress, Angela assumed she’d been doing most of the work herself already. She’d been wrong. There was so much more she’d never even known about. And she didn’t have a prioress of her own to help her out. There weren’t any of these women she could trust.
But that was a good thing. Work kept the mind busy. The soul from straying. It distracted her from her hole inside of her, an endless emptiness that only grew deeper and wider, until it would eventually consume her, maybe even consume the whole world.
Angela blinked, and stared at the figures before her. She realized she’d done her math wrong, a few steps back.
This was pointless. She wasn’t going to make any progress like this. She stood up, rubbing her eyes, stretching her back, feeling her bones pop. She needed to clear her head. A walk around the grounds might do her some good.
As soon as she got her traveling cloak on, she was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Who is it?’
“it’s me.” Darcy said, her tone full of that infuriating drawl that Angela could never tell she was being made fun of or not.
“What is it this time?” Angela snapped, as she stomped towards her door. Despite her annoyance, she was a little glad. She’d needed a break anyway. And the sisters had largely avoided her, once she’d taken this position.
Which was fine. She was long since tired of their games and schemes and drama. It was nice to not be in the thick of it anymore.
“wait hold on don’t open the door.”
Angela stopped, her hand hovering over the handle. “Why?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.
Darcy coughed, the sound phlegmatic. “sick. margaret’s down too, and adela says she feels a tickle in her throat.”
A spike of fear ran through Angela, and she took a step back from the door. “Plague?” she whispered.
“nah.” Darcy chuckled, though it turned into another cough. “its not that bad, i can feel it. should blow over in a week i think if everyone gets rest and medicine.”
Angela clutched her hand over her pounding heart. Should she trust in Darcy’s assessment? Just a mild illness, sure to blow over? Or would this be their undoing at last? A long awaited divine punishment, ready to finally cleanse the sin at Linbarrow. “I-I see. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Darcy. Please, go get some rest, and make sure everyone else does too.”
“yeah. keep your distance for a bit and you should be fine too i think. moira and i will keep an eye on everyone.”
There was a pause, and for a moment, Angela let herself relax a bit, and believe that everything would be alright, that God had a plan for them, that she’d done a sufficient job of repenting for the sins of this place.
“there’s uh, something else though. hedwig.”
Angela froze, and did her best to clamp down on the maelstrom of emotions brought to mind at the thought of that wretched girl. “What about her?”
“well she needs food and such. but i don't want to risk getting her sick either. think you can handle it for a bit?”
Wait. Was that was this was all about? Some sort of convoluted scheme? The sisters, engaging in debauchery again while Angela assumed them bedridden with illness? Or pushing her to try and reconcile with Hedwig, to convince her to come back out of her cell, so those whores could get their tastes of her once more?
In a fit of rage, Angela nearly tore the door open, to reveal Darcy’s lies and manipulation bare.
But fear stayed her hand. If this wasn’t a trick, then what plague would she invite upon herself by attempting to confront it?
“sorry. I know things are complicated between the two of you, but if im sick and margaret's sick than the other sisters might all be sick as well so you’re the best bet. If you really don’t want to do it i can just thought i’d let you know.”
Angela took a deep breath, steadying herself, calming her nerves. She prayed for strength, prayed for guidance. “No, Darcy. Thank you for handling this responsibility until now. As Mother Superior I must look out for all of the sisters under my care, in their times of need. Please let me know if you or any of the others require anything else.”
There. Show them she could be grateful, and magnanimous. Not just harsh discipline and oversight but care and nurturing and understanding. Reward and punishment. Angela understood that. She could do that better than her predecessor. She could make this place into something better.
She had to.
Every step down the hall towards Hedwig’s cell took longer than the last.
Angela’s hands shook, the platter of food in her hands trembling. She’d been putting this off for too long. What should she do? What should she say? Should she say anything at all?
Was there even anything left to say? Hedwig had made herself quite clear. The fury in her eyes, her hand around Angela’s throat. The words that cut far deeper than any injury Angela had ever experienced.
Hedwig had never loved Angela. All she’d loved was the debauchery of flesh. It had all been a delusion on Angela’s part. To think that Hedwig was different. To think that the connection they shared was special. That it could really be them, together against the world.
The pain burned through her with every leaden step.
But at the same time, time had already dulled it, somewhat. The world Angela knew had fallen apart. It kept going anyway, no matter how monumental the change.
Angela reached Hedwig’s cell. The last time she’d been here, she’d been searching for a monster, terrified she might meet her end. Instead, she’d found what she thought was salvation. Something that could finally fill the emptiness inside of her, where even God’s light could not reach.
But in the end all she got was more emptiness.
There was nothing to say. Nothing she could say. She pushed the plate in through the hatch. Worked the contraption.
She knew she should turn and go. Instead, she lingered.
There was movement inside of the cell. Shuffling. The scraping of a plate against stone.
“Angela?” Hedwig’s voice came from inside, raspy, wavering. “Is that you?”
Angela’s eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest. “I… how did you know?”
Hedwig laughed, in a way that was a little unnerving. Here, in this dark hallway, and the door separating them, Hedwig did not seem like a beautiful shy young woman. Merely a pathetic creature who belonged in darkness and solitude. “Your dagger catches on your robe as you walk.”
On instinct, Angela groped for the blade on her thigh, an ever present source of comfort and protection.
“Also, the others always talk to me now before giving me food. Strange, considering they were all so willing to ignore me before.”
Angela opened her mouth, to say something. Anything. To scold her. To rebuke her. To twist the knife, as thoroughly as Hedwig had twisted it in her months before.
Instead, what came out was, “Are you well?” and Angela was surprised at the tenderness in her own voice. She truly was a fool.
“Am I well?” Hedwig giggled again. Angela could picture Hedwig’s face in her mind, twisted in an unnatural way. “I’m doing great. I’ve never been better.”
Was that sarcasm? Angela couldn’t say. When Hedwig had first appeared to them, she’d been so straightforward and honest. But she’d been corrupted so quickly. “Are you sure? You don’t have to stay in there, you know. You haven’t made your vows in the presence of a bishop. It would still be okay if…”
What was she even saying? Did she even want this? Could she actually stand to see Hedwig again, to let her presence amongst the sisters drag the monastery once more into chaos and debauchery?
Hedwig snorted, full of contempt. “No. No, no no. I don’t think so. This is where I belong. There’s nothing for me outside of these walls.”
Nothing. Another blow to Angela’s wounded heart, fractured and broken. Angela was nothing. All she’d ever be to anyone else was nothing.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, and was surprised to find that her face was wet. She was supposed to be stronger than this. She had to be stronger than this. “Very well. Rot in this hole for the rest of your life.”
Angela took a step away from the cell. She’d wanted to storm off dramatically. But her feet were even heavier than they’d been on the way over here.
“It’s—ah—nice to hear your voice again, Angela. Mmm.”
Those words froze Angela’s feeble attempt at escape. A tug at her heartstrings. She needed to keep going, before—
There was more, coming from inside the cell. The sound of heavy breathing. Soft whimpers. The sound of fingers against wet flesh.
That pervert! That disgusting harlot. Now, of all times, she was… Angela squeezed her eyes shut, and bit down her tongue until she tasted blood.
“Hah…” Hedwig let out a loan moan. “Wouldn’t it be nice if you could just stay in here together with me? We could both be anchoresses. Hehe. Impossible, I know. But I’d bet you’d like it anyway, Angela.”
Fire burned within Angela. A warmth within, bright enough, powerful enough to banish some of the darkness, to show that the hole inside of her wasn’t so deep and all consuming after all. She pressed her back against the door, sliding down to the floor.
“You should address me, now,” Angela said, her voice low. “As Mother Superior.”
“Ah. Y-yes. Of course. Forgive me.” Hedwig whimpered.
Angela hiked her robes up above her leg and found herself, and wished that this would be enough.
She had everything she ever wanted.
But it would never be enough.
