The burning hands of Mars

red sex - vessel 

Whoever manages to trigger your rage has already won the game.

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Anger is nothing but a silent sleep until the burning hands of Mars come and awaken it in fire.

Mars's hands are to Zora the letter she holds between her trembling fingers. The paper crumples slightly under the pressure of her strength and nearly tears. The black lines forged by her mother blur as her eyes fill with burning tears.

The office has fallen into a suffocating silence. Outside, Zora can't even hear the players warming up anymore. She can't even hear the coach approaching her and asking if everything is okay. She can't even hear the irregular beating of her heart.

She only hears the anger roaring in her stomach, in her chest, in her heart. She only hears her anger screaming at her to get out of here, to let it escape, to let it burn.

Zora swallows back tears burning her eyes. A drop of sweat runs down her spine. Her skin itches, burns. Her breathing is panting, suffocating.

How many times has she found herself in this situation? Faced with her mother's perfect calligraphy? Faced with simple words, a simple sheet of paper turned into a gun pointed at her head?

She doesn't even take the time to ask herself questions. To wonder what could have driven her mother to do this. To wonder how far her mother is capable of doing any of this. The hands of Mars chose to silence these questions. For now. 

Zora stands up when she feels Coach's hand on her shoulders. She pulls away from his touch and walks toward the office door without saying a word. She doesn't even look at the stadium, the players, the sun; she takes the steps three at a time and heads for the exit.

It's as if everything is in slow motion. Everything is distorted: the sounds, her perception of distance, the Coach's shouts behind her, which she chooses to ignore.

All her life, Zora let herself think that no, her mother would never do that. It turns out, yes, she would. And she did.

All her life, Zora fought against herself, letting her anger grow and feed on swallowed tears, faked smiles, and buried, forgotten pain. She let herself think that she would never break, never let her anger drive her.

It turns out that yes, she would. And she did.

Anger won.

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The front door of the manor bursts open with a crash, shaking the walls of the hallway. Zora enters, the letter still burning between her fingers, her breath ragged, her eyes bloodshot.

"Where the hell is she?" Zora finds herself screaming, her voice echoing and disturbing the quiet of the house.

Her quick steps lead her to the kitchen, but she finds no one there. Upstairs, not a soul. In the winter garden she finds only the sun welcoming her. Then she heads to the living room and opens the door so violently that it slams against the wall and knocks a painting over.

Her mother and Viktor's parents, sitting around the living room table, jump and turn their heads toward her. Her mother stands up and puts a hand to her mouth, noticing the state her daughter is in. "Darling, what's going on?"

Zora lunges at her, grabs her by her perfectly ironed shirt, and pushes her against the wall. Her mother gasps as her head hits the wall. Zora raises her arm and shoves the letter in her face. "What the fuck is this? Uh?" she says through gritted teeth.

Behind her, she feels her uncle approach and place both hands on her shoulders. "Zora, calm down, come here-"

She turns her head towards him. "Don't you dare fucking touch me!" She screams. Her uncle jumps and takes a step back.

Zora turns back to her mother and hands the letter even closer, the paper now pressed against her face. "Uh? Answer me! What the hell is this letter?"

"Zora, please calm down-"

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down !" she yells, the words almost inaudible between her lips. "I'm fucking tired of you telling me what to do."

Behind her, her aunt's voice chills her blood. "She was going to find out sooner or later..."

Zora's entire body freezes. She slowly releases the pressure on her mother, who seems to be breathing again, and turns, her body trembling, toward her aunt.

Hands in her hair and on the verge of tears, her aunt looks at Zora. Her eyes smells of pity. And Zora hates pity. Feeling weak, dispossessed. She hates this. She hates it even more in front of her family. 

"What do you mean?" she says in a short breath. Her uncle sighs and sits back down, taking his head in her hands. 

A tear rolls down her aunt's cheek. This tear is like a slap in the face for Zora. Crying is forbidden here. Why is she crying?

"Zora, I'm so sorry, слънце..." her aunt manages to say.

"What do you fucking mean?" the words escape her mouth in increasingly loud cries, and a second tear rolls down her aunt's cheek. "Someone fucking answer me!"

"I suggest you sit down," her mother's voice has turned cold again. She regained her composure after being thrown on the wall. She walks in front of her, straightening her shirt and her untied bun.

Zora hates her. Hates how she still looks perfectly composed in front of her broken daughter. hates how she doesn't even cry.

Her uncle and aunt take her mother's words as an escape and begin walking toward the exit. Zora turns to them. "Don't you dare leave," she threatens. "Everyone seems to know how she's going to ruin my life except me, so you might as well be here to see the show," she adds with a nervous laugh.

"We had to have this conversation sooner or later, so we might as well do it now," her mother adds.

"Just fucking talk," Zora says, her voice cracking at the end. "Just tell me what could possibly justify fucking forging a letter and destroying my dream."

Her mother takes a deep breath. "I did this to protect you, to protect us."

Zora looks at her mother, a tired smile on her lips. She feels anger laughing deep inside her, spasms of nervous laughter shaking her feverish body, until she bursts out laughing. 

She turns to her uncle and aunt. "You hear that? She did this to protect me!" she says with a smile as fake as it is sharp. "How lucky I am to have her as a mother." Then she turns back to her mother. "But protect me from what, exactly? From being happy? What in the actual fuck, do you think protection means?"

"Zora, you don't understand what's at stake," her mother answers, trying to remain calm.

"Then make me understand!" Zora screams in her mother's face, the laughter quickly disappearing and replaced by eyes the color of her rage.

Her mother looks at her and takes a step back. "Before your father died, he incurred debts. Significant ones. He made bad investments and liquidated half our fortune. The other half, he lost it while gambling."

Zora closes her eyes. She wishes she could shut her up. Take away her voice so her mother no longer has her father's name between her sickening lips.

She hears her cold laughter echoing. "Yes, Zora. It's about time you discovered the truth about your father, whom you admire so much. He wasn't the caring dad and the super Ministry agent, Zora, no, he was just a lost guy who enjoyed to put the safety of his family and his heritage on the line for the simple pleasure of gambling and seeing prostitutes-"

Zora grits her teeth so tightly her head threatens to explode. "Don't talk about Dad like that," she threatens.

"Like what, Zora? Like the truth? Because it is the truth. Your father almost brought our family down, and I was left to hold the boat alone. It's the truth, whether you like it or not."

"Stop talking about him!" she screams, and finally feels tears rolling down her cheeks. Hot, burning tears on her cheeks and landing between her lips, leaving a salty, bitter taste of realization.

Her mother shakes her head. "I was there to make up for his bullshit. I was there to protect you. Where was he, huh?" she adds, her voice cracking at the end. "At the club, drinking and fucking sluts!"

It's her mother's turn to shout. Zora shakes her head and covers her ears, refusing to let her mother's words sink in. Not this. Not now.

A few seconds pass, and Zora raises her head. "What does this have to do with me?" she says in half-words, almost inaudible.

Her mother sighs, takes a few steps to collect herself, and sits back down on the couch. She seems to take a few seconds to think before speaking, and then finally begins.

"When we discovered the debts your father left us," her mother begins, her voice less confident than usual. "I had to save us. It was either I gave up, the scandal would be public, we would lose our money, our reputation, our connections. Or I would find a solution to save our family and our legacy."

She turns to Zora's uncle. "We tried to find several possibilities, but I wasn't really helped," she says, her tone laced with reproach.

Zora's uncle looks at her and sighs. "Sorry I was grieving for my own brother," he says coldly, shaking his head.

Her mother suddenly straightens. "And you think I wasn't grieving? Uh ? Anyway, Krum men are nothing but cowards."

Her uncle says nothing.

"I tried several solutions. I used all my contacts. Nothing worked. Until I spoke with the Vassiliev," she said, finally looking into Zora's eyes.

The Vassiliev.

Vasilyev. Vassiliev. Vassiliev.

Just hearing that name, Zora feels like she's suffocating. She takes a step back and places her hand on the edge of the fireplace. She holds on, trying desperately to get air into her lungs.

Her head is spinning. All the dots of her miserable life seem to connect at once. Everything seems to make sense.

Debts. Vassilievs. Engagement. Important papers. 

Zora feels like she's falling. Falling without ever landing. A great emptiness envelops her and plunges her into an endless fall.

She shakes her head and holds onto the edge of the fireplace a little tighter. "No, no," she says between shaky breaths. "No, you didn't do that, no..."

"I had no choice, Zora."

"No, no, no, no, no, no," Zora keeps saying tirelessly. She lowers herself slowly until she lands on the floor with a dull thud. "Why? Why would you do that ?" 

"The Vassilievs agreed to cover the debts financially and keep your father's secret. They were good friends of his. Our ancestors knew each other well. In exchange, he wanted to forge a bond. A secure, lasting bond between our two families. They had money, power. He wanted something they lacked: a secure, long-term alliance, to unite two of the oldest wizarding families. He wanted you."

Zora says nothing. She still feels herself falling, the fall unattainable, and she knows the shock will only be more painful. Her fingers itch. Her voice no longer follows her. She wants to speak, to shout, to scream, but no sound comes out.

It's like she is starting to disappear, leaving only the sound of injustice and betrayal after her. 

Behind her, her aunt is in tears, sobs wracking her body as her husband tries to comfort her.

"Stop crying, you've never done anything but fucking cry in this whole thing anyway," her mother snaps at her.

"Lilyana," her uncle says, shooting a dark and threatening look at her.

"I can't believe you sold me out, you-" Zora finally manages to get out.

"I didn't sell you out, Zora. I made the decision I thought was best to keep this family together and ensure a decent future for you, for all of us," her mother firmly interrupts her.

Zora finally stands up. "A decent future? You're kidding, right ? I no longer have a future, thanks to you."

She steps closer and leans toward her mother, her face inches from hers. She takes a deep breath. "If you think for just one second that I'm going to agree to your plan, be quiet like a good girl, and obediently marry off their son, I'm afraid you don't know me at all."

Her mother holds her gaze. Then a flash of pity crosses her eyes. She raises her hand to rest it on her daughter's cheek, but Zora grabs her wrist before she can. "Oh, Zora, darling, I'm afraid you have no choice."

"We always have a choice," Zora spits and straightens up. "I'd rather see our family drown in scandal than sell myself to the highest bidder."

Her mother sneers coldly. "You've always been selfish, Zora. Just like your father."

Zora clenches her fists and draws on the last of her strength to keep it from ending up in her mother's head. She feels her nails digging into her skin until she feels nothing but the pain in her hands and the metallic smell of blood.

"I'd rather be selfish if it allows me to keep my dignity."

"Such beautiful words, darling," her mother replies, standing up as well. She walks around the sofa and opens the cabinet behind it.

The sound of the key and the creaking wood makes Zora shivers. She knows what's inside. Her prison. She might as well be locked in it right away, she tells herself. Lilyana grabs a sheaf of parchment and throws it at her daughter's feet.

"Yes, sometimes you do have a choice," she says, closing the cabinet. "Only this time, you don't."

Zora laughs and spits on the pile of paper. "What are you going to do? Lock me in my room? Kick me out of the house? Go ahead, I'm just waiting for it."

Her mother sits back down, one leg over the other, and looks at her as if what she's just said hasn't just shattered her. "The contract was signed so that the year you come of age, you'll sign it and agree to marry Alexei. You turned eighteen last year, nineteen in a few weeks. You have to sign it now. It's been long enough."

Zora grabs the papers, tears them up, and throws them into the fire. Her mother just rolls her eyes. "I knew you'd do that. They were just copies." She pauses and sighs. "I tried to get you to accept it slowly, you know. It didn't work. Now I have to use force."

"I'll never sign those papers, do you hear me? Never," she replies, yelling the last "never" that echoes through the now silent house.

Outside, the sun is gone. Nothing lights up the large living room anymore, which seems to be plunged into darkness. As if everything outside had gone out with her.

Her mother stands up and this time, it's her turn to approach her daughter, her footsteps loud and her gaze threatening. Her heels click on the floor. God, Zora hates that sound.

"You know the Vassilievs' reputation, don't you?" her mother tells her. Zora doesn't respond; she just sniffs and wipes her cheeks. 

Her mother doesn't deserve her tears. 

"The Vassilievs have controlled the magical and muggle world in Bulgaria for decades. They run most of the media, work with magical government in Europe and Africa, own factories and have connections in just about every field. Including Quidditch."

Zora swallows. She feels the fall approaching. Getting closer and closer. 

"I'm only going to tell you once, Zora. If you refuse this contract, you'll break our promise to the Vassiliev. And they value promises. They won't be happy. They'll publish your father's scandal in every media. We'll lose everything. Money. Reputations. Connections—"

"If you think I care about your money and your fucking connections-," Zora interrupts.

"They'll take everything from us, absolutely everything. You'll ruin my life. Your uncle and aunt's life. Our positions in the ministry. You'll ruin Viktor's life. The Vassiliev are the main financiers of the national team. His position will be reviewed."

She pauses. Lilyana studies her daughter's face. Hard features, thick dark eyebrows, long eye-lashes. How she hates this face. The same as her father. The man who nearly destroyed her life. 

She studies her angry face, her brows furrowed, her eyes swimming in tears and reddened by grief. Her hair a mess. Always. She sighs and runs her hands through it, trying to style it properly. "And since I know that you're only interested in your own little destiny and that you won't hesitate to ruin our lives, know that if you refuse, your name will be blacklisted from all professional Quidditch teams. And I heard that from the Vassiliev themselves."

There it is, the fall. 

There it is, the long, agonizing fall.

Where the impact shatters your every bone, take every breath until there's nothing left but your soul to destroy. 

Then silence.

A silence so loud it fills her with an emptiness that takes up too much space.

The anger is gone with her entirely. All that remains is the shadow of a girl who was doomed from the start.

It's almost laughable now to have spent so much time chasing a dream that was nothing more than an illusion from the start.

"I tried, Zora. Try to get you away from Quidditch, to prepare for your future life. But you're so stubborn and-"

Zora raises her hand to tell her to quiet. She stands with difficulty, feeling her legs waver. She feels like she might die under the weight of it all. 

She feels the trap closing in on her, and she can't do anything. Reality is becoming clear to her now. If she wants to continue playing, she must accept the pact with the devil.

Eat or be eaten. Sell her soul or watch it sink.

She stands up in the silence and walks over to the cabinet with the portrait photos. She grabs the one of her and her mother and smashes it on the edge of the piano. 

The glass shatters with a deafening noise that breaks the silence. Like a noise announcing the end.

Or the beginning of the end.

She sniffs and turns to the photo of her playing Quidditch. She picks it up and shatters it too. This time, the glass only breaks halfway, resilient, as if it weren't ready to shatter completely.

She walks past her mother again and turns to face her, staring right into her eyes.

"Congratulations. You just killed your daughter."

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