Chapter Text
~170 CE, EAST ROMAN DACIA, ROMAN EMPIRE.
Caelia kneels on the hard stone, letting the darkness swell over her. The night’s air is stiff and heavy, humid with the expectancy of the summer rains. Her sandals scrape the cobblestone of her own altar. She walked through the woods to get here. There is blood on the table. She doesn’t mind how it got there and she doesn’t know. There’s a candle in front of her that no one put there, so she picks it up and sets it between her knees, her thighs tensing around the softenes wax as she strikes her flintstone and presses a light into the world. It gleams on the blood on the table and her rough clothes and her dark hair. She places it back on the table, rearranging it with the slick of blood that pushes it to the side, and Caelia begins to pray.
“My Lady,” she begins, her toes curling against themselves. She knows this is forbidden. It’s forbidden to everyone, and then it’s more forbidden than that. She continues, “I’m sorry I’m late. I couldn’t get past the guards quick enough.”
Her Lady doesn’t mind. Her Lady presses against her body and murmurs that they will pay, one day. Caelia’s Lady loves her worshippers.
Caelia draws fresh-baked bread out of her pocket, setting it on the rickety wood before her and letting the blood soak into it. Her Lady likes the taste. “I brought you a gift,” she says shyly.
The candle flickers, pleased, and the world swells around Caelia. She sinks back into it, craving her Lady’s touch. Her head sinks into the stones like a pillow and her breath adds to the heat of the night. Her Lady’s presence undulates around her.
“Iulia will give birth tomorrow,” Caelia pants, closing her eyes.
Her Lady whispers her approval into every brush of warmth against her body.
“I am to assist with the birth,” she continues, at her Lady’s soft nudge, “Iulia wants me there. I am her best worker. My hands are calloused from kneading her bread. She knows I am reliable.”
Her Lady knows Caelia’s hands are calloused for other reasons. Tomorrow, when her hands are coated in the birthing blood and a baby girl is given into the world, Caelia will press her hands to her mouth and the taste of wetness on her tongue will taste like her Lady. She will wipe the red from her lips as quickly as she can, and no one will notice anyway because the baby girl will be there and crying and alive, and Caelia will hide the shame of her Lady even as she wishes she could run out here, to her altar, and slide her still-wet hands up her thighs and spread her legs wide in full view of the goddess. Caelia will settle for a taste. She settles for a lot of things, these days.
Her Lady curls her hands around Caelia’s head, bringing her back into the present. She’s proud of her, Caelia can tell. That baby girl tomorrow will be one of her Lady’s, and one day she will follow Caelia here and she’ll introduce her to the Lady who has known her since birth. For now, Caelia sinks into her Lady’s touch and lets the heat pool where her fingers brush her neck and cheeks. Caelia pulls her dark hair out of its bun and lets it spill out behind her head, trailing down the steps Caelia took to her altar like a black, gleaming river. It’s dangerous for a woman like Caelia, just the right age and in the outer regions of Dacia, to have a feature so beautiful. Caelia keeps it anyway. Men say they like her hair, leering at her and telling her to wear it down, but she only unties it for her Lady. Her Lady’s fingers scratch against her scalp, and she shivers.
Her Lady tells her to dip her fingers into the blood on the table. She does, smearing it around between her joints and grinding it into her palm like she can get the slickness to stay. She strips in the safety of the night, and thanks her Lady for giving her what she cannot have tomorrow.
When her hand slides between her legs, the name that she cries is the name of her Lady.
***
Iulia names her daughter Rubinia. Her hair is black, but in the sun it shines red. She joins Caelia in the kitchens, adding rosemary and thyme to bread dough and picking lovage for the evening meals. Caelia wipes a bit of dough off of her ruddy cheek, her heart swelling as she watches the girl run around the kitchens. Iulia tells the girl to settle down, but Caelia always lets her laugh, so Rubinia pulls a stool up next to her and helps her with the meal preparation, helps her chop the celery and vegetables, kneads the dough with her. Rubinia looks out the window as she grows, and Caelia knows the girl will be like her. She will trust the gods she is given. She will dance in the forests with the presence Bendis and her mother’s strong arms will remind her of Kotys, and she will look out at the fields and the name on her tongue will be Silvanus. Caelia will teach her the name of her Lady, but that will be later. Caelia and her Lady agree that Rubinia should get a chance to grow up, first. Rubinia’s smile has a crooked tooth in the corner. Caelia loves it.
She grows up a little too quick. She’s only just started really growing, her height’s only just settled and her breasts appeared not too long ago. She still wears her hair down her back like a little girl, even though she isn’t one. Iulia admonishes it for her daily, and she will cry when it is what the man uses to wrap his fist in and keep her from running away. She will cry that her body only just grew in and already it has been marred and abused. She wears her hair up without fail, after that. She tells Caelia and not Iulia. She confesses it’s because Caelia can’t declare her as ruined. Caelia hugs her tight and takes her up the mountain to her Lady’s altar the next day. She breaths her name into Rubinia’s ear.
“Lilith,” she tells the girl, “She is a goddess for women like us.”
Lilith smiles and a wind curls around Rubinia’s shoulders like a hug. Caelia adds her arms to it, before warning Rubinia to only come here at night. She doesn’t mean to scare the girl, but it’s vital that no one discovers what they’re doing. A foreign god, and one forbidden by the Romans. She’d be crucified, left to line the streets with every other criminal. Caelia wants Rubinia to be safe.
To her surprise, the girl nods solemnly, and promises to the altar that she will never tell anyone. Caelia leads her back down the mountain, Lilith rolling down with them. An owl watches from the trees, blinking sleepily before gliding over their heads. Rubinia smiles crookedly, pointing at it.
Caelia’s glad Lilith can make her smile.
***
Caelia dies. Caelia dies and she hears someone telling her she’s in hell. Caelia smiles, because that means Lilith is here, too, and that means Caelia is safe.
***
1800 years later, she takes the name Ruby as her own.