Chapter Text
I don't know who my mother is
But I creep for you
Moments in change
I'm still chasing
I'll be home soon
— Mothercreep by FKA Twigs
Apparently, time doesn't exist in this space, only stone walls and torches attached to them that are slowly losing their flame, making the room feel more oppressive than when she first came in. No, thrown into, was more like it. There are no windows or crevices that would allow sunlight in, therefore she doesn't know how long she's been chained to the floor. Hours, days, a week, it doesn't matter. 'No sense in keeping time if I'm going to rot in here', she muses indignantly. The first few times she tried everything to get out: twisted her wrists, pulled the chains with all her might, prodded the metal plates that attach them to the floor, used her blood caused from abused wrists as lubricant to free her hands out. The last one raised concern from the outside, enough to bring healers into her cell to try to alleviate her wounds, only for her to bare her sharp, grotesque teeth and snap at them.
Eventually all that struggling caught up to her, the dried blood caking between her wrists and rusty metal cuffs indicating hours have passed. She's been dozing on and off since, her sense of time hindered from the lack of variation in her surroundings. 'So, this is how I meet my end'. A less than dignifying conclusion for the former, no, should-be empress of Outworld. Chained and isolated in a prison cell, no exposure to the outside world, and no indication of getting out...not that she expects to. At this point it would be merciful to just end her existence on the spot, no point in prolonging the inevitable to make a statement.
Her sleep is disturbed when she hears footsteps steadily approaching in her direction. 'Who is it this time?' A servant? A guard doing their rounds? Nevertheless, she adjusts her position as best as her chains let her, opting to kneel as the chains are too short, and glares at the door with raised fists.
She doesn't expect Sindel, of all people.
“What do you want?" Mileena snarls at the queen with all the venom she could muster. She tries to rush forward, but the sting from her wrists brought back pain from her escape attempts earlier, so she settles with a death stare.
Compared to the prisoner, Sindel is more composed. If she feels the slightest bit disturbed, she's doing a good job not showing it. “Take ease, child. I am summoning you here for a chance of redemption.”
“I am certainly not a child!”
“In Edenian standards, and at the moment, you are.”
The fallen empress can only glower at the Queen of Edenia. Mileena has heard of her before; esteemed and benevolent, Sindel rules over Edenia with an iron fist, but is admired by both royals and commoners alike, none who would deny her altruistic acts to preserve the kingdom after the needless violence the inhabitants went through.
The half-Tarkatan struggles from her shackles, introducing new wounds from doing so. “Let us not make this conversation longer than it needs to be. You’re here to execute me—”
“I said no such thing.”
Mileena scoffs. What game is she playing at? “I don’t need your mercy. Kill me, for I can finally join my father!” She tries to take a step forward, only to be halted by her shackles. She lets out a defeated grunt.
Sindel crosses her arms, examining the prisoner before her. “Mileena, is this what you really want?” She continues to look at Mileena with creased brows, who reverts her gaze to stare at the wall, avoiding the queen’s line of sight. “It must be confusing, to be created for the sole purpose to kill—”
“That is nothing to pity about.” Mileena retorts. “I was created by my father to take my rightful place to rule over Outworld!”
“For what, Mileena? If Shao Kahn did not foolishly wish for someone who barely knows the kingdom she is tasked to rule, you would have chose a different path—”
“What path is there that is more glorious than to rule Outworld?”
“If the aftermath that you have caused under your rule is any indication, I say an unpaved path would have better suited you.”
Mileena could do nothing but scowl at the queen, her canine teeth gritting to the point of subtly piercing the skin around it. She stops struggling from her shackles.
“…Why do you spare me?”
Sindel contemplates for a moment. Surely executing her for her crimes is justified, or at least, a life of exile would have sufficed. Irrational, unforgiving, ruthless. These are the traits that should not fit to any ruler. They describe of a murderer, blind to reason, seeking nothing more than a thrill that barely lasts longer than the agony they inflicted on their victims. With the agility and combat prowess of an Edenian and the brutal might of a Tarkatan, Mileena is a monstrous result of a selfish wish to gain power.
But there is a thought that Sindel cannot fully process. In a different, albeit morbid perspective, Mileena is another victim in the hands of Shao Kahn. Mileena can defend her ‘father’ however she wants, but Shao Kahn would have no doubt dispose of her at the moment she proved useless. He could easily order Shang Tsung to recreate another, stronger than the one before, and the cycle repeats. Shao Kahn would never consider Mileena as his ‘daughter’. She is as expendable as his henchmen.
Mileena has done many things in the name of her father’s approval, even after his passing. Her very existence was created to appease him.
“Why?”