Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sonya settled into her favorite armchair, steaming mug of black coffee in hand. She breathed in the delightfully bitter aroma, letting out a sigh of contentment. It was mercifully, blissfully Saturday, and Saturday meant no bullshit. No meetings, no research, no getting dressed. She had a bunch of absolutely delicious garbage on her DVR, a brand new bath bomb, and a bunch of things she’d seen on Tiktok that she kind of wanted to try. The world was her oyster, and the caffeine started to work its magic on her mind.

Now, properly awake, she could…

Check on her approximately 20 DMs?

Oh, fuck.

Clearly, someone had been trying to get a hold of her. Her stomach dropped. Had something happened at work? Or, worse, had some emergency befallen one of her friends?

Her fear turned to confusion when she realized that, rather than the expected massive chunk of messages from a single person, the notifications were split across nearly all of her normal contacts.

Conrad had asked, “Are you okay?”

From Leon, “Just thought I’d check up on you.”

Jesse had sent a hug emoji. Palla wanted to know if she needed anything. Valbar had sent a boomer meme expressing love and support and, speaking of boomers, even Nomah of all people, who barely understood social media at all, had sent a message with way too many ellipses about offering prayers or something like that.

Confused, she wondered if, perhaps, she was the one who’d had some sort of emergency. Too bad she was the last to know.

She scrolled through the messages faster, looking for some clue as to what was happening. The most descriptive messages were from her old coworker, Deen (“I’m sorry that happened. Pretty fucked up.”) and her neighbor Genny’s friend, Mae (“Holy SHIT Sonya do you want me to kill your sisters for you!? I will do it!” followed by a row of knife emojis and then another message sent a few minutes later, “Allegedly! In Minecraft!”)

Her blood ran cold as she started to put the pieces together. Her sisters?

She immediately shoved open her laptop, her hand shaking slightly as she navigated to the biggest social media fundie snark community she was involved in. She didn’t have to wade through sarcastic memes long before finding a post that caught her attention.

“I was today years old when I learned that Marla and Hestia from Witch Power have a little sister. That poor girl.”

It wasn’t until she saw the comments, though, that the pit in her stomach grew into a yawning canyon.

“What? They just said they had a brother in their podcast this morning or did I miss something?”

“NO You’re missing the context, THEY said they have a brother but ‘he’ turned his back on Duma to become a trans or something so she’s actually a girl and WP is being shitty as usual lol”

“OH ok thank you”

“idk guys we probably shouldn’t assume anything about them unless we hear from them and tbh we probably won’t becus if i were them, I would ignore M & H and live my best life”

“LMAO I hope he claps back”

“*She”

“can we stop talking about this poor person ffs”

Sonya set her laptop to the side, her body slow but her mind unbearably fast. She wrestled the temptation to run to her sisters’ podcast to listen to everything they’d said. Maybe having context would help? Maybe?

But… no. It wouldn’t help. Logically, she knew it wouldn’t help. She could already guess everything they’d said. Something about the challenges Duma gives to people, about how only the weak fail in those challenges, about how true strength can only be found in denying one’s own wishes and surrendering to Duma and… Yeah. Just that same shit.

She tucked her legs up under herself on her chair, unsure of what to do next. Her first instinct was to ignore it. People would make memes and jokes and “secret third Witch Power sibling” would be added to the fundie lore icebergs and, other than that, nothing much would change. Eventually, some other influencer in that space would say some wild shit and it would all be forgotten. Maybe some absolutely horrific relationship advice from Berkut and Rinea’s YouTube channel, or some ratings-worthy drama from the new season of Nuibaba’s show on TLC. People would forget, and Sonya’s life would be the same as ever.

But she wouldn’t forget, was the thing.

No, she wouldn’t, and she couldn’t. No one else she’d grown up with had deconstructed as far as she was aware. She was the only one on the outside who knew anything at all about Marla and Hestia. They weren’t the evil, horrible people that everyone else in the fundie snark community knew. She was the only one who knew what a kind, loving person Marla was; how she’d sing her to sleep when she was afraid, and carry her around the house when she was tired. She was the only one who knew the secret doubts that Hestia had carried when they were younger; had stayed up until dawn whispering with her about faith and life and whatever else two little kids could think of to talk about when they were the only ones in the house left awake. She was the only one who knew how much life with their preacher father had fucked them all up, had forced them to turn against their littlest, blackest sheep when, as a teen, she’d started to gently pick away at the eggshell closet that had so completely engulfed her. It was her duty, then, as the only one, to save her sisters. Or, if not them, then… at least someone. Somehow.

She just needed to be…

Strong.

Fuck.

Sonya felt her face crumple. Programming was a hard thing to break. After years of soul searching, it was easy to think that she had her whole life together. She had a great life, a job she enjoyed, loving friends. Hell, even several of the local kids kind of looked up to her. She was so far away from that child who listened to loveless sermons and drowned in the terror of her own weaknesses.

And yet… maybe she wasn’t really all that different after all.

She took a deep breath. What would her therapist say?

She couldn’t be strong all of the time. On Monday, she would be. She would go to work and she would talk to ex-cult members and she would work with local social services and she would do whatever she could and she would be so, so strong. But today…

She went back through her DMs, thanking everyone for their concern and their care and, again and again and again, she read the phrase “If you need anything.” Again and again and again she typed, “Thank you, but…”

Again and again and again, she erased it.

She did need.

Fuck it!

She mentally cleared her schedule of all of the nothing she’d had planned that day. Her solitary hobbies and her trashy TV and her brand new bath bomb could wait until tomorrow. Tonight belonged to her.

That was how she ended up stuffed in Palla’s big white Pegasus SUV with most of her friends. Saber suggested a few of his favorite lesser-known bars in the city, which Kamui compiled into the ultimate bar crawl. Palla passed the aux off to Leon, who blasted a fun playlist he’d curated just for the occasion. Sonya sat squished between Jesse and Conrad, chatting with her about everything and nothing and absolutely not her sisters, while Valbar passed around a big water bottle to make sure everyone was hydrated before the night began.

Once they arrived at their first destination and Palla handed her keys off to Valbar, the next few hours passed in a blur of drinks and dancing. Sonya could barely keep track of all the places they visited, or all the tasty cocktails she threw back. She made sure to dance with each of her friends at least once, and ended up simply flailing around with all of them in a group at least two or three times. It was wild and free and no one worried about anything at all.

She hadn’t checked the clock in forever, but it must have been well after midnight when, at the final bar, a quiet little hole-in-the-wall, Leon suggested they keep the night going with a visit to a nearby karaoke lounge.

“Seriously, man?” Kamui asked, suddenly more sober than he’d been in hours.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re chicken,” Leon teased.

Jesse snorted into his beer. “He can’t carry a note in a bucket, you know that.”

“Well, neither can I! That’s not the point of karaoke!”

Sonya thought for a moment. It wasn’t as if their whole group hadn’t been singing along (at varying levels of awful) to the songs at the clubs they’d visited, but it was definitely a different prospect than singing in front of everyone else individually. Still…

“I’ve never actually done karaoke before.”

“Seriously?” Leon asked, incredulous.

“Wait, we did karaoke at Celica’s birthday party,” Conrad said, “You were there, Sonya.”

“I just watched. Seemed like it was more for the kids, you know?”

Palla, who’d spent most of the night thoroughly white girl wasted and uncharacteristically bold, piped up, “I haven’t either. I’ve done karaoke with my sisters before, but I’ve never gone to an actual karaoke lounge with friends or anything like that.”

Leon grabbed both women by their wrists. “Well, that settles it, then!”

“Wait,” said Valbar, his steady, patient tone reminding everyone that he was the only sober member of their group. “Sonya, do you actually want to give it a try?”

Even in her inebriated haze, Sonya noticed all eyes turning toward her. Oh, yeah. She’d almost forgotten that this whole night was for her. It felt… weird. A good sort of weird, though. “You know what? Fuck it. Sounds fun.”

Leon pumped his fist in victory and led the rest of the group back to the car, and before any of the more reserved members of their squad had a chance to object, they were packed into a small room with a big karaoke screen, a couple comfy sofas, and surprisingly high-quality snacks on call.

To no one’s surprise, Leon went first, singing a pop song that Sonya wasn’t familiar with. He then hyped up Valbar so much that, despite the older man’s sobriety, he sang Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire” with surprising gusto. Jesse went next, and as the group settled into their snacks and drinks, Sonya could understand why Leon had been so insistent on coming here. True, there weren’t exactly any particularly gifted singers in their little group, but in a way, that made the whole thing more enjoyable. No one had to be. They were having fun, enjoying each other’s company, bonding as friends. No one was judging anyone else, outside of gentle teasing which no one really meant. No one was waiting to condemn or hurt or…

Was this what real love looked like?

Sonya thought about the kind of strength that each and every one of her little band of misfits had. It wasn’t the kind of strength that Duma’s faithful preached. It was so, so much more than that. They’d all been through hardships of different types and degrees, but they were all still such kind, caring people. And as for Sonya herself…

She took a deep breath and grabbed the tablet to pick a song.

“You can do it, Sonya!” Palla cheered. Jesse drummed his hands on the table in a drumroll, and Saber and Leon drunkenly chanted her name. Even the others, who were too preoccupied with a big basket of nachos to say anything, radiated a sort of passive support. She had nothing at all to be nervous about.

She navigated through a massive menu of songs, narrowing it down to a handful she knew well enough to actually remember the melody. A part of her cringed as she kept coming back to what felt, in a way, like the most trite, on-the-nose, basic bitch sort of song she could possibly choose, but…

Fuck it. Her friends would support her and love her and hype her up, no matter what.

She grabbed the mic, and the whole room hooted in delight as the first notes of “Let It Go” started to play.

Her voice wavered at first, anxious despite the support. Even with her blood full of liquid courage, she felt a little foolish. But then, that was sort of the point.

By the time she hit the second verse, she was drunkenly belting it out, closing her eyes and just pouring her heart into the song. She could almost imagine summoning powerful magic to her fingertips, turning the private room into a gorgeous ice palace.

She’d been 15 when “Frozen” came out. Back then, she was just starting to test the hinges on her closet door. She’d gone to see it with Hestia, who had heard the music online and thought it sounded good. What Sonya hadn’t been expecting was that that one song would actually make her cry. It had seemed so stupid and childish at the time, but she couldn’t help it. Hestia had made fun of her for getting so emotional, and she’d made some quick excuse, about how inspiring it was to see a queen give up her place in society to find true, ultimate power, about how it was exactly the kind of thing that their father preached, that she was just… caught up in the spiritual fervor of it all. But… in reality, that wasn’t even close to the reason. Hestia probably knew that, but she hadn’t said anything more.

No one movie or song or character could ever have made Sonya who she was, but it had reflected exactly what she was about to do. She was going to become herself. And, contrary to what Marla or Hestia or Jedah thought, it had taken so, so much strength. Not Duma’s strength. Sonya’s strength.

And here she stood, in the light of day. Not isolated or running from anything, but surrounded by people she loved. Who loved her. And, at least for tonight, she couldn’t think of a single thing in her life that she wanted more.