In The Bleak Midwinter

Our goddess, heaven cannot hold Her,

nor the Earth sustain.

Heaven and Earth shall flee away,

when She comes to reign.

Tiffany had stopped shivering. She hadn't been able to feel her hands for some time. And her mind was wandering, growing sluggish; she felt herself drifting along with that damn chant, as the pitch rose until the singer’s voice became almost girlish, more like a woman singing than men chanting. She didn’t need 8 years of medical training to know all of those things were bad signs.

She was dying.

All the while, the device between her legs whirred, keeping her on that horrible edge even as her body failed.

“Well, you don’t look so hot, sweetie.” The voice rang out unexpectedly in the cold air, a feminine lilt with a hard edge that sent shivers down Tiffany’s spine. “That’s alright; I’m not 'so hot' either.”

Hallucinations. Hypothermia. Tiffany blinked, trying to focus, as her grandmother stepped in front of her, smiling with a quiet viciousness. Then, the woman wavered, and Tiffany saw her niece, smiling with the gleeful wickedness of youth. She wavered again, and...

Me?

Tiffany saw herself, but her face… She was certain she had never had that savage, inhuman look of impersonal cruelty. She couldn’t imagine any human ever had.

With that, the image solidified.

“Not a hallucination, no. And yes, I can hear you think. After all, I’m here because of you.” Tiffany’s doppelganger paused. “Or… I suppose I should say you’re here because of me. Sorry to say it, dear, but you’re the civilian casualty in a war between me, my sisters, and a lot of old men.”

Who… The very presence of this woman seemed to compound the effect of the drugs, the cold, the device still tormenting her flesh, and Tiffany cried out despite herself as the device pushed her to a peak, then ran a shock along the dildo inside her to pull her back. The woman didn’t seem to mind; she waited patiently until Tiffany stopped crying, and their eyes once again met.

“I’ve had any number of names, dearheart.” The woman smiled, and Tiffany had never seen anything look less cheery. “Most recently? Morrigan. Hel. N’ldlooshi. Famine. But here, today?” She paused, considering. “I suppose I’m just Winter. And I’m supposed to be you.”

Winter paused, as if she expected a response, but Tiffany was too focused on her fight against the machine between her thighs, as it quickly pushed her to yet another denial.

“See, you’re supposed to have all the traits that draw me: Uncaring; emotionally cold; sexually frigid.” Winter gestured at the circle of symbols surrounding them. “I’m supposed to be drawn in by the similarities, to take you as a host against my will. And then I’d be here, trapped in a failing body. Helpless. Again.” Winter hissed out the last word.

It doesn’t… matter. Tiffany had given up her attempt at bravado; she whimpered as the machine worked on her, fighting past her weakened will.

“It does! Don’t you see? The men who did this to you, to me, they’re men. And like all men, what were they thinking with?” Winter let the question hang, the answer assumed.

“My dear girl, even now, the one man who is supposed to be watching you, who should know I’m here..." Winter scoffed. "He's busy fondling himself and watching a recording of my sister’s humiliation.” 

Winter scowled at that, then continued.

“I can see your mind, dear, I know. You’re not ‘frigid,’ you’re private. You’re not cold, you’re introverted. You’re not uncaring, you just hide your emotions so you can work. You don’t fit!" Winter's voice rose with every phrase, until it sounded like nothing less than icy wind shrieking through trees. "One of them just wanted you to, maybe from revenge or desire, and the others saw how you looked and thought with their cocks instead of their brains. They're men, so they got it wrong."

Winters voice dropped to a whisper, and the wind in the winter night fell still with her, the snowflakes falling straight down.

"So I’m here, like they intended, but I'm not trapped." She said. "No body, but power.”

At that, Winter gave Tiffany an appraising look, as she groaned in agony, feeling her last dregs of strength fading.

“And you’re here with a body, if you will pardon my bluntness, with very little energy and time left." She finished softly. "So, we each have something the other needs. We just need to find common ground. Me, well... I want revenge. And you?”

Tiffany heard the question, just as the device accelerated, pushing her to the final peak of denial. Overcome, she hung in the frame, practically unthinking. But Winter seemed to get the response she needed.

Tiffany’s body arched, she shrieked, as Winter reached a single manicured nail between her thighs, pushing the vibrator out of the way to run her finger along Tiffany’s flesh. Tiffany’s whole world exploded, as all the pleasure from the denied orgasms came onto her, filled her, pleasure becoming pain and circling back to pleasure again. Pleasure, more pleasure than a human could normally handle, pooling up from that slight touch. And with the pleasure came vitality, and a cold, cold power.

After an eternity, or no time at all, Tiffany stood from where she’d crumpled on the ground, the shards of metal from the device scattered around her, covered in frost. Standing, she looked around herself. Something about her surroundings drew out an icy smile.

“Finally.” Said Tiffany, with Winter’s voice.