Fiction: Glorious and Terrible (Penthesileia / Erinyes)

Hello my lovelies,

this is for a gift exchange where I received a story prompt, so I wrote lesfic about the Amazon Queen Penthesileia and the Erinyes / Furies. The prompt read:

"Something gay with Penthesilea and the Furies, swordplay encouraged if you feel up for it. Explicit."

I hope the person receiving the gift will be very happy with what I wrote for them 🥰

Glorious and Terrible

Warnings: Sword play, blood, the Erinyes' punishment is not exactly consensual

It had been an accident. One moment Hippyolyte had fought beside her, strong and ferocious. Penthesileia had hurled forward her mighty spear to attack but it was Hippolyote, her own sister, who was struck by the fatal blow. Grief and rage had overcome her and like her father Ares she had cut through the rows of opponents like a knife through soft cheese. But no matter how many men she slew, it didn't soothe the pain of her sister's death, by her own hand no less. Ares had appeared to comfort her after the battle, silently taking her into his arms as she cried. She didn't dare to face her mother.

"Come to Troy," Ares had told her. "I'll be there and the Trojans can use any help they can get. Fight with me, my beloved child."

Penthesileia had sobbed and nodded and soaked his cloak with her tears and now here she was, in her tent on the road to Troy. She tried to sleep but Hypnos avoided her yet again. The pale light of Selene fell through one of the flaps, painting a silver pattern on the ground. Penthesileia sighed. She turned away from the light, pale as it may be, and as she moved, the shape of a woman seemed to emerge from the shadows of her tent. Penthesileia sprang up at once, grabbing her sword.

"Who are you?" she barked, her sword raised. This was not the first attempt on her life, nor would it be the last.

"I am vengeance. I am fury." came the reply from the darkness. A light flickered and Penthesileia yelped in fright as she saw the whip of snakes in the grim hand of a woman whose hair was licking flames, burning as brightly as a torch. Her skin had an unearthly tint and her eyes were the ominous gold of a screech-owl. Bat-like wings rose from her back and spiked armour glowed in the firelight. She was clearly not human. But Penthesileia felt the warlike spirit of her father surge. Even the undying gods could be hurt. Her grip tightened around the hilt of her sword.