K9Thefirst1
Remember the daughter Porta killed in her first appearance? Harry and I have been chatting about things regarding her over PM. Furthermore, in the year+ since her, Porta, OLD and Reivana and Stab's first appearance, their circumstances have been clarified and fleshed out in my head. So have some backstory to display the value of what was lost (spoiler: none), plus some info on the father of the twins. Remember: He was chosen for his obvious health and genetic preference of physical strength, not for his personality, and
certainly not for his intelligence.
The Duchess
Location Unknown…
He came from a long line of seamen. From the days of the oar through the capture of wind. From the rise of steam to it's fall to diesel, his family lived and died by the sea. Centuries of the work was clear in the breeding of his body – body hair to ward off the Atlantic chill, and easily attained muscles to work the sails or pull the oars. It was why, out of the few who survived in that storm that sank their freighter,
she picked him from the sea. He didn't have family to go home to. Dad died at sea when he was a boy, and mom floated from boyfriend to boyfriend, whoever had the money to fund her addiction, with no regard to how the boyfriend
du jure used his fists, or on who. He didn't mind. It made him strong, as he proved again and again on the docks and in the bars all over the world, proving his masculinity just as he did in just as many brothels. Or in any place he could get away with it, if none were available.
As mother dearest taught him, no woman was capable of knowing what she
really wanted without a man in her life to tell her. So it was refreshing to find a woman who understood her role in that regard. Unlike so many uppity broads he educated in the end, she dressed as was appropriate for her Sex, and never lied when he asked. Sure the horns and albino coloring was weird, but with T&A like her, there was no point getting hung up on it. And when his manliness put a bun in her oven, it was all the more proof that he was a
Man.
Now if only he could find a way off this island and get back to civilization. The bitch with the weird vocabulary but sexy bod was getting to big with the kid to be hot, and no amount of streaking on her part was going to help. But that giant tin can, what was he called (because no way was it a woman like everyone else here, to muscly), Ocean Liner Demon? Whatever he was, he was a real bastard, a genuine piece of work. Always cockblocking him when he was trying to score with the other broads around here, and the
one time he tried to lay down the law on the tin can (a crack to the jaw, it had always worked before), he wakes up in a hospital bed with a broken nose and the molars of his lower right jaw pulled out.
If he didn't leave before the bitch gave birth, he'd have to –
ugh – '
be a dad.'
A Year Before Blood Week
Just as he feared. He just couldn't get away, and now that she wasn't weighed down with the kids – TWINS! He knew he was manly and a good lay, but
damn! – the bitch would be able to keep up with him if he ran.
Sure, she was hot again, and eager for more. That was just expected after all. But whenever the brats cried she'd get up and go to them, even if they were in the middle of fucking! And no matter how hard he tried to force her to stay where she belonged like a good girl she somehow managed to slip through his arms. Almost as if she, a
woman, was
stronger than he, a
man, was, or something gay like that.
Five Months Before Blood Week
He had
had it with these little shits! The slut had the
nerve to say
he had no say in whether or not they fucked or not! The
Hell should he care if she had 'a duty' or some shit! Didn't she know that
he was the man here? Dumb bitch needed to learn her place, and the brats –
especially the smaller one with the stupid hat – would be the perfect way to do it.
Step 1, kill 'em.
Step 2, rape the bitch 'till she loved it.
Step 3, leave her crying for his dick as he got out of here.
And with that plan – if it could be called such – he raised the knife up; ready to plunge it into the tiny body of his youngest daughter, who was crying as if aware of what was going to happen. Which would follow soon after by the older daughter, who laughed giddily at the sight of the knife, as if eager for the bloodshed to come, uncaring of the fact that the blade would be coming for her as well.
And then the dainty hand of Ancient Atlantic Gateway Princess, she who would one day be known as Princess Porta Abysseum Atlantia and Empress of Abyssinia, Elder Princess of the Abyssal Fleet, lifted the taller man up by his jaw, crushed it, and pulped his cranium against the far wall of the nursery.
------
Five Days Before Blood Week
The children rolled and played in the tiny play pen the Princess had crafted from driftwood. The time had finally come – Her sisters decided that they were ready to exact their insanity upon the world, to plunge the Abyss into Total War against the humans. Millions were set to die on both sides, and all of the appeals to greed and reason that Gateway made were for not. The Princess couldn't even option out of the madness as a Conscientious Objector. Sub-Continental and her Science-Obsessed minion looked at her in a way that promised something unspeakable if she did not participate.
Gateway left her quarters only when absolutely required. She wanted as little to do with the madness outside of her own – thankfully tiny – role in it. Instead she spent her time away examining her options to weasel out of as much of the war as she could, and tending to her little ones. They were approaching their first birthday, and they grew at the speeds typical of little ones. But they still needed protecting from the corrupting influences of their atrocity-lusting aunts. Ocean Liner Demon stood by her side as per usual, barricading the door with her bulk. If Central Atlantic genuinely wanted to get in the Liner couldn't hold her off, but her sisters were thankfully apathetic for their 'craven' sister.
"They'll need names Your Highness."
"Hmmm… Yes Demon… I suppose so…
Despite being Royalty, there was always the risk of disease of treachery, as their father proved, and so Gateway had held off on naming the twins until she was certain they were likely to survive, and so that she had some sign of their unique personalities to work off of. The youngest was, disappointingly, not gifted with the Divine Right to Rule. Any Abyssal could tell that she was a mundane member of their race. Most assuredly a powerful Aircraft Carrier, but tragically that was all that she would ever be. Perhaps once a settlement was made with the humans she could be educated and find occupation in the government if she proved talented, but as things stood in the present, the smaller and younger twin would never see Rulership in her future, unless events radically changed the circumstances.
But the elder daughter? Who apparently gained their late and unlamented (save for the bedchamber duties) father's physical strength and energy? Such a success! Looking at her with Other Eyes, she
glowed with the Divine Right of the Abyssal Elder Princesses! And not even a year old she was running about and climbing things while her sister was apparently more content to lay on her back. And sadly, the younger did not receive her father's physical strength as Gateway had hoped, nor any of his… Strong personality. When her twin smacked her tiny fists against her, the carrier did not fight back or even resist, instead she only cried.
'
It's regrettable that the older twin finds tormenting her sister so amusing. But such are the sadistic ways of children. In time she will no doubt grow out of it and into the dignity of her station.' she thought to herself, willfully – foolishly – ignoring the eight glaring examples of how wrong she was that were her own sisters.
So then… Names…
The Princess looked to her younger daughter. A daughter with promise indeed, but tragically denied promise of true greatness by an accident of birth. A daughter that looked forward to being overshadowed by her greater sibling. A daughter in need of strength to find her own path, to find her own place in her mother's realm. Gateway stroked her chin in thought as the crying tot was rolled around by her laughing sibling. Then she recalled a book she had read, before Blood Week, before finding that man, even before she found her aide Ocean Liner Demon. A name of a mighty fortress, impregnable, and unsundered even by gods save by a deluge of the ocean itself. A name meaning 'Iron Prison,' which to the Princess could be taken as both an acknowledgement of her predicament, and as a challenge to overcome it by her own merit…
With a warm smile, Gateway lifted the babe from the pen, holding the sobbing tot in her arms and bouncing her to calm her tears.
"Angband," she said, "This one shall be Angband."
The elder twin was much put upon that her favorite toy was taken from her, and made her displeasure known with loud shrieks and grabbing fingers reaching up for her mother to return the stolen property that was Angband. Gateway just smiled and leaned down to brush the babe's soft hair on her head.
"You, little one, shall not be named by me. Like me and your aunts, you are of a breed of Abyssal beyond the peasants of the fleet.
You were born to
rule. You represent a region or aspect of this world connected to the sea. Neither of us know what your place is daughter and heir, but I do not doubt that it will be of a glory worthy of your rank. When you are of age, and prove yourself, you will earn your name in a display of your
Power.
"In the meantime daughter, you shall be called Duchess. A title recognizing your royal nature, but not of your equality with your family. But when we know what place or aspect of the Sea you embody, you shall know your true name."
The Grand Meteor Seamount
Regrettably, but not unexpectedly, Gateway's sisters proved unable to withstand the onslaught of humanity, and – unlike her – they underestimated their will to live and protect what was theirs, and their capacity to fight back. But the Elder Princess of Man's Lust for Gold, Land, Trade and Empire, had anticipated the need of having to face off alone, and had planned accordingly. When Middle World Ocean washed up on her shores with the Humans in hot pursuit, she wasted no time in faking her death and de-assing the Azores with her fleet to a base of operations she had prepared beforehand.
All that was left to do was build up her forces (and build and build and build and build and-) and prepare for the day when Man's temper would cool enough to tolerate her and hers long enough to make peace and an alliance.
In the meantime, her daughters grew and grew rapidly.
2007
Gateway looked to her eldest daughter and heir, her expression one of uncomprehending befuddlement: Just at the end of the hall, Duchess was laughing cruelly at the still living crab she had pulled the claws and legs off of.
2008
Gateway was angry, Angband was crying over her broken arm and the knife in her gut, Demon was comforting the girl and containing her obvious fury, and Duchess took clear sadistic pleasure at being the cause of it all.
Yes, Gateway was angry. But she was also concerned. Maybe it was the series of events. Or maybe it was a trick of the light. But add a few arms and Duchess looked uncomfortably like Sub-Continental Ocean after cornering one of the peasants while bored. Or add unsightly amount of muscle and she looked like Central Atlantic when she had defeated an opponent in the ring, and was playing with her victim before finishing the job.
She was supposed to be
free her sisters' sociopathic dumbassery dammit!
2009
Duchess and Angband sat in their desks, Gateway before them, the scenario written out on the board before them.
"Now then, you have suffered a defeat, and you are pursued and outnumbered by the enemy two to one. You have heavy and light units, but most are moderately or heavily damaged. You only have five submarines, with one having taken damage resulting in her electric drives making far too much noise to be stealthy submerged. Neither side has air support. The enemy commander is known to be short-tempered, and is highly emotional, and likely has taken your fleet's actions in recent months as a personal affront. The sea is calm, with a dense fog bank ahead. It is pre-dawn. How can you extract victory from the scenario? Duchess."
The older twin scratched her head, then scoffed.
"Trick question."
"Explain."
"
Obviously this can't happen. The human fleet would've been crushed. I charge ahead and kill them all!"
"You and your whole fleet are wiped out. Angband?"
Duchess slumped back in her seat and stewed in impotent rage. Though it didn't show on her face (much), Gateway was equally frustrated with the girl. When she first planned these classes, she had assumed that Duchess would be just fine while Angband would struggle. Sadly, the younger Elder Princess apparently inherited more than just her strength from her father. The carrier twin, on the other hand, was a quick study, and was a shoe-in for command. Angband nervously stood up. She wilted at her older sister leaning in with a snarling glare,
daring her to speak. But after turning to face their mother, and seeing her nod, Angband stepped aside, stood up straight, and spited her sister to speak.
"W-well, I would have the submarines hang back to try and blend in with the enemy fleet, and sacrifice the damaged sub to lead their screening forces away from the main fleet. Then, I would lead the enemy into the fog. There I would arrange my fleet like Hannibal at Cannae: My light and heavily damaged heavies in the center with me, and the remaining on the flanks. That done, I would slow down and let the enemy catch up. With the personality of the enemy commander, he would see my fleet as weak and out of position, pushing his surface group head on. With my flanks staying at the same speed, my center is directed to increase speed to match the enemy's approach. As the enemy fleet presses, the center moves forward and flanking, while the flanks close up from behind. The enemy fleet thus encircled, then my submarines are to begin torpedoing the nearest targets of opportunity while the surface units fire at will. Within half an hour the enemy fleet ought to be either destroyed, or unable to continue the fight."
Their mother is silent for a moment, and just as Duchess takes in a breath to crow and belittle her sister, the Princess begins to clap and offers her youngest child a small smile.
------
Ocean Liner Demon marched through the mothball fleet and into the yards. The Foreman had contacted her directly and informed her that Angband had need of her. Without telling Her Highness.
Had anyone a decade previous told her that she would be genuinely concerned for a damned warship, they would find themselves to be a red smear on the floor. And the walls. And the ceiling. …Actually, if anyone said the same now she'd still leave them as a smear. But though she didn't recognize it, she still had a soft spot for the Ag-Class carrier (though an outsider perspective might pin that on it being hard to enforce one's prejudices on someone when one had changed her diapers). All of them, especially the Imps, did in fact. Her gentle nature was a stark contrast to the rest of the Abyss, and that seemed to invoke an urge to protect her in their black, atrophied hearts. Which was why the demon honored the request without thinking, whereas with anyone else she'd have told the Princess about the meeting out of spite if nothing else. She wasn't sure what to find when she reached the bottom of the pit Gateway's shipyard portion of the throne sat, but it wasn't the young carrier curled up in the fetal position, face buried in her knees, sobbing, and with work crews scurrying over her hanger and the side of her head.
"Angband?"
The Princess' Daughter sat up with a jerk, a gasp escaping from her lips at the sight of the Demon. With hurried motions, Liner Demon ran up to the girl and kneeled, tenderly turning her head to get a better look at the injury.
"It-it's nothing. I-I-I tripped and-"
"The thing about lies is that they only work if they're believable."
Angband closed her mouth and averted her gaze while her Mother's second looked at the left side of her head. And the chewed-up ear the imps were working on repairing and reattaching to the exposed skull. The Demon looked at the hanger off to the side to see that it had been bashed in, with the right eye missing entirely. Liner Demon tilted Angband's face to meet hers, her eyes glowing from the eye slit in her helm.
"Tell me who did this. So that I can kill them."
"N-no! Don't! Mother would-"
"Would forgive me because she's more forgiving than I am, and because I am her pet psychopath and everyone knows it. In fact, it's hard to be a credible psychopath without killing people in a blood rage from time to time."
"
It's her sister."
Liner Demon jerked her head to the Foreman, who took her gaze with the apathy only an engineer could manage.
"
You heard me. Her sister. Every so often she gets it in her head that Angband here's getting to uppity and decides to 'reeducate' her through the use of teeth and fists. After the stabbing thing she got smart – shocking I know – about the kind of damage she could get away with. This is the seventh incident, and frankly I'm getting nervous about always covering for the shitstain's bullying."
Liner Demon nodded and began to stand.
"Right. One dead Elder Shithead a la Lyons coming up."
"NO! You can't!"
"Sure I can," the Demon replied pleasantly, "It's very easy you see. The key is to ring your hands around the neck at the base of the skull like so, then
squeeze until the head-"
"No! You can't kill her and you can't tell mother!"
"…And like that you've lost me."
The little carrier got up and wrapped her little arms around the Demon's waist, looking up to her hidden eyes with a pleading expression, fat tears welling up on her cheeks.
"Please don't Demon! I-I know it's my fault she's always angry. I-if I just didn't do so good, then mother wouldn't praise me so much, that's why she's always mad!"
"No, it's because she's a short-sighted sociopath and you make yourself an easy target because you don't make a fuss. As a long-sighted psychopath I am obligated to frustrate such people with great joy and pleasure."
But alas, such sound logic could not stand against the teary, youthful face, looking ready to burst into tears at any time. And for a flash of a second, the past century was gone, and she was staring at another face, painted in the livery of a hospital ship.
Don't go sister… You'll get hurt…
And deep in the Demon's chest, a shriveled raisin of a heart twitched. And she was defeated.
"…If your mother asks. I am powerless to deny her."
The carrier nodded. And the pair descended into silence as Liner Demon held Angband close while the work crews carried out their repairs. Seeing how Angband barely flinched as the welders worked with clear familiarity of the pain, the Demon found yet another coal of hate and self-loathing to add to her fire to berate herself over. But in time the repairs were complete, and – in a shocking turn of events – the Demon led Angband to her own room to spend the night, rather than the quarters she shared with Duchess. And that night she talked with Her Highness about the training arrangement. Angband was a carrier after all, while the
shithead Other Twin was a budding Royal. Would it not be better for their training to be separate? So that Angband could further in her studies under the tutelage of Mordorrim and the other remaining carriers, while she focused on bringing her clearly struggling
Hellstain heir up to speed? In fact, it would be best is they just had separate rooms entirely. To better encourage their diverging interests and educations.
Gateway considered this. And agreed. And for once Ocean Liner Demon cursed the implicit trust Her Highness had in her. All she had to do was say something to the effect of 'what brought this on,' and like that she could have been given
casus belli to [censored for content].
2010
Building up one's forces for the inevitable return to the war on the clear victor's side was long but productive work – Provided that one knew to take the effort to pace oneself. Therefore, between reading the intermittent reports from her spies and saboteurs in the neighboring fleets, progress reports from her engineers both downstairs at the yards and on Antillia in the oil plants, and checking in on her Fleet and their crews as they trained, Gateway would work to feeding her intellect with knowledge. Sometimes it was history (to better refine her strategies and their contingencies), other times it was law (to better refine her plans for her Post-War government), other times it was Cultural works such as literature or treatises on Art (to glean ideas for cultivating her Post-War culture), or the sciences (for ideas on how to better her fleet and her industry, it was where she got the idea for the Bio-Oil after all). And all of these from books collected and shared with her from a recently built Re-Class named Reivana, who to Gateway's great pleasure was far more interested in books and knowledge than fighting.
At present, the subject at hand was the last of that aforementioned list that was the focus of her current book. Specifically, Psychology in Minors. It wasn't exactly the most relevant, and she had her doubts on its accuracy, but it was still worth looking into. Particularly when the author went into psychosis and sociopathy. At first, she expected a comedy considering that she lived with eight of them… But then things started striking a little too close to home.
…
in the case of the developing mind, children do not see dolls as inanimate objects, or animals as baser beings. Rather, they are living, sentient people that they have total or partial power over. In case studies of dozens of individuals exhibiting psychopathy, sadism, serial killers, and spree killers, it was commonly found that – as children – they commonly displayed their psychoses on toys and small animals. Things such as dismembering dolls, or torturing animals in cruel and unusual ways.
For the first time in a long while, the Princess slammed a book shut without marking her place and threw it as far away as she could manage, on her face was an expression of stunned horror, pure and unmitigated.
The crabs.
The fish.
The toys when she was a baby.
The time she stabbed Angband.
The Duchess, that worthless imbecilic daughter undeserving of a name, was too dangerous to be permitted to live, Gateway recognized that now. But how to do it? One does not simply go kinslaying and not expect an uproar.
Spring, 2012, The Royal Quarters
In the viewing orb, Duchess and a coterie of various ships were gathered around in the Mothball Chamber deep beneath the palace. And given the volume they were speaking in, you'd think they
weren't plotting treason.
"
It's been years, every day she tells us we'll take back what was ours and still
she sits her fat ass on that chair and doesn't do anything!" said a Chi-class cruiser, which got a great sound of agreement from the others.
"
Our sisters died defending our rear as the Princess cowardly ran from the humans, expecting us to make good on their noble sacrifice and avenge them. Instead we cower in the depths, hidden away like feeble meatbags while our Sisterfleets fight on nobly, laughing at us and our so-called 'glorious' Princess!
"Her Royal Laziness, rather than taking up the cause of her sisters, spits on their efforts at glory for our race and leaves their fleets to squalor! It's time that we take action, because it's obvious that our Princess lacks the courage to do anything!"
The crowd roars in approval and raising their firsts in approval. And prominent among the innermost ring stands Duchess, all sadistic smiles and bloodlust in her eyes as she addressed the crowd.
"
My useless Mother and cry-baby sister need to die, and I vow to spill it myself!" the Demi-Abyssal declared, to the clear joy of her audience, "
And then? We retake my Birthright the Azores, and from there Iberia, and then ALL of Europe! A black flood to extinguish the Meatbags once and for all!"
For a few more moments the crowd in the orb cheered louder than ever before a wave of Gateway's hand froze the image and dispersed it.
The Princess was slouching back in her seat with an expression of utter boredom, her head resting on one cheek on a fist, Ocean Liner Demon standing beside her, arms crossed, and looking on apathetically.
"You know Demon," the Princess said, disappointment evident in her tone, "They were all going to die just by the fact that they were plotting treason. That is a given. But the fact that they were spouting their drivel in my own Palace, the
one place that I would have heard of their plot? I am
insulted."
"Shall I arrange a firing squad? Or can I go on a spree? Please tell me I can go on a spree."
Gateway raised an eyebrow at the Demon and held her gaze. After a few moments Liner Demon sagged in clear disappointment.
"Tempting. But it just seems like such a waste... Furthermore, this needs to be handled with finesse. There's no telling how many others in the fleet share their views but are smart enough to keep it to themselves. Furthermore, we need solid evidence that their viewpoint on the Humans is foolishness, otherwise I'll just be playing into their narrative of me being craven rather than wise and prudent, and because of that I can't afford to hold a trial. Even if the number of those involved
wouldn't make the process tedious, it would give them a platform to spread their drivel. And of course, that worthless waste of resources is involved, and no matter how justified I can't just kill her over what amounts to a difference of politics."
Liner Demon stroked the chin of her helm as she considered that, watching as Gateway stood up and leaned over the table before her, and the map of the Atlantic it displayed. Her Highness waved her hands over the display in arcane patterns, causing the map to shift to various locals and showing current intelligence of Human activity.
"These children want a brawl Demon?" she said, "Then a brawl they shall have. But
where… It can't be on the coasts, I can't afford to have the humans of the major powers have fresh wounds… Perhaps an island… But it can't be just any island…
Yes!"
Liner Demon looked over the shorter Princess' shoulder as she moved the map to a small island. It was transparent on the map, indicating that it was hidden from mundane eyes. And the tiny figures on brooms circling it showed that it was protected by magical folk.
"St. Brendan's?"
"Yes! It's the
perfect target!"
"How so?"
"Because it's a
magical Island! That means that the inhabitants are not only in possession of disproportionate firepower, enough to crush a fleet if they combine it with mundane weaponry, but it's hidden and isolated from the mundane governments of the world, where the
actual power lies. It's likely that they don't even know about it, or if they do they can't actually acknowledge it themselves. I have been hearing rumors that the magical guardians at the island have been dwindling in numbers in recent months. Soon enough the whole garrison will leave due to being so undermanned.
"No one else has bothered after Central Atlantic got rebuffed sending her fleets to die against it. Frankly had she kept it up I think she might have made landfall, but if there's one 'good' thing about her it was how easily bored she got with things that gave her a fair fight. When these International Magical folk leave, the island will be wide open for invasion. And if I'm right about the locals and the sum of Mundane and Magic working together, any fleet foolish enough to attack is going to die brutally. And wouldn't you know? I have
plenty of fools in need of dying."
"And you think your older daughter and her little friends will buy this?" Liner Demon asked. Gateway did not turn toward her Second, she just smiled cruelly at the island, and what terrors it no doubt in store for her blood-lusting sociopath of a useless daughter.
"Frame it as a challenge Demon, and idiots with dreams of bloodshed and glory will line up to die faster than a stockbroker for an office window after the Crash of '29. Furthermore, the Duchess is no doubt so eager for a landed title and a realm of her own to rule, that she'll be
desperate to attack and invade. On top of her own personality plaws, such a prize would make her not bother to plan. As for me? I dispel the notion of me being unwilling to fight, I get to wipe out an entire faction of my fleet plotting treason under my nose – and any number of fools too weak to resist peer pressure or secretly harboring treasonous thoughts, and I get rid of a mistake that I should have aborted. And even if she crawls back here after her failure, I get a fig leaf to kill her without being accused of Kinslaying.
"And
that," she said, turning to Demon fully, a proud grin on her face, "is how you deal with traitors like a professional."
The Demon hummed in thought as she looked at the map, stroking her chin.
"I assume that the treason is the final straw then… And not what the Feckless Wonder does to her sister."
"Demon?"
"Just, considering that you can see everything you would have known about her beating up Angband."
"Angband? What has she been doing to my Angband?"
Liner Demon jerked her head to the Princess, and was silenced at the horrified expression on her face.
"…You, didn't know?"
"
Didn't know what Ocean Liner Demon!"
"…Huh. Remember when I suggested separating the twins?" The Princess only nodded in affirmation, "You didn't think that was odd?"
"Well, I had assumed that you were talking as an Advisor. I cannot have my Power strewn about every inch of my Realm Demon, only on the vitally important parts.
Now tell Us what that sub-human barbarian was doing to Our baby!"
And that was how Gateway Princess learned the story of her heir brutalizing her youngest daughter, and the conspiracy to keep her from finding out about of it. As the story was told, Gateway remained quiet, but in a rare moment of vulnerability, she did not hide her emotions, swinging from horror to rage to sadness and back as her most trusted minion disclosed what had been going on without her – the
smart Elder Princess – finding out.
"And that's when I recommended keeping the two separated as much as possible. I had expected you to question my interest out of the blue, but when nothing happened I suspected that you knew, just didn't care."
At that, the Princess seemed ready to give a scathing dressing down to the Demon, only to visibly deflate and slump into the nearest chair and bury her face in her hands and began to sob.
How could she have been so blind, that she didn't connect the dots that her Blood-lusting sociopath of a spawn had been doing to her actual daughter what their aunts had been doing to her? How could she, who saw the consequences of starting a war of genocide against the surface-dwellers a light-year away, miss what was happening within her own halls?
What did it saw about her, that the daughter she actually liked hid her problems involving the daughter she had grown to hate as passionately as any of her sisters?
The Useless daughter should have been disposed of years ago, and had either Angband trusted her enough, or if Liner Demon or her own engineers not bought-in to her propaganda enough, to
speak up about the goings on, she would have crucified that monster years ago…
But they
didn't and that hurt more than anything else.
'
Where did I go wrong…?'
*-*-*-*
Actually, the English Channel is
full of wrecks, especially from WWII. I remember seeing a documentary about someone building a commercial tourist submarine to provide tours of the area.
.