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Heirs to Power: Reloaded

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Summary: Two of the oldest Powers of the Universe are about to resurface, and two different and secret wars are about to change.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Cartoons > He-ManBigHeadFR15523,20886713,2463 Aug 089 Dec 08No

Prologue – Snake Hunting, Slayer Style

Author: BigHead
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me. Just the general idea, and even then, I might deny everything.
Summary: Two of the oldest Powers of the Universe are about to resurface, and two different and secret wars are about to change.
Warning: Crossovers ahead. Yes, Plural.
Rating: PG-13 to PG-16; for mild cursing, violence, and demonic horror content... in other words a bit more grown up then the series...but only cause I don't have to suck up to censors. (Hey, I copied Tenhawk, blame him!)
Author's Notes: The older version of Heirs will continue to run when the muse decides to cooperate. But this? This was too good to pass. Blame the prologue in both stories and the small differences between them.
Timeline Changes: Mix and match of timelines enforced. As a reference, this should the beginning of S3 for Buffy and for SG-1? It’s about one year after Sha’re died, end S3, but before the last episode of the season.
Feedback: Most certainly welcome.

Prologue – Snake Hunting, Slayer Style
(Burn, baby, burn!)

Giza Plateau – the distant past

Ra was fleeing, the resistance had grown too heavy, and the power some of the warriors had was such that not even the might of the Jaffa warriors or the Goa’uld was capable of defeating for the moment. Perhaps they were the so-fabled Hok’Taur? All around him, near and far, the Tau’ri ‘army’ fought the remains of his own army, their numeric superiority enabling them to defeat even the superior weapons of his soldiers. Besides, the Asgard had once again left their corner of the universe, and the Ha’tak that was serving as his personal ship for the moment had caught the signature of one of their ships closing in fast. The last thing the mighty God wanted was to pick yet another fight when he was barely leaving this one alive, so he ordered their immediate departure. However, the prize he was currently carrying was more than enough to pay for this defeat.

Looking over his shoulder once again, he spotted the damned *girl* closing in fast, and he cursed in his native tongue once more. Another bad strategic decision, killing the girl’s companion didn’t serve the intended purpose of making her stop and grieve for him, instead it seemed to fuel her anger and fighting ability even further. He had five bodies of his own personal guard to prove the point, and the three remaining ones were following him closely. His First Prime was killed almost a fortnight ago, and with the remaining battles that followed one after the other, he hadn’t nominated a new one. This was another mistake he was paying for.

Nevermind, he would flee for now, and he *would* be back, and the Tau’ri would pay the price of their betrayal.

If only he could distract the Demon Girl for enough time.


She had no name, but the one her teacher had given her, almost ten seasons ago. Slayer, he called her, and Slayer she was. Called by the Gods to fight against their own brothers and the demons that committed unspeakable acts of evil. Her teacher taught her, followed her, helped her, and most of all, he cared about her when no one else in her life did.

He had died trying to protect the two swords and her, killed by the very own God called Ra.Slayer couldn’t do a thing then, she was too busy fighting the God’s minions to help defend him. Ra had fled with the swords, but then two of his guards had paid the price, leaving the sand to dry their blood. She had even taken the time to kill the two demons that rested in their bodies, as her teacher had taught her.

This was almost two days ago, and since then her knife, swords, fists and rage had taken even more revenge from the God’s own.

She just hoped she could finish them all before Ra decided to flee. Now, while she prepared her last hopeful strike she wondered, why didn’t he call his flying chariot?


Ra stopped for a moment, the sand shuffling below his feet. He didn’t even have time to collect his Queen, but he hoped that his hidden Al’kesh transport would serve to bring her to him once her healing sleep was over. Another thing to blame the damned Tau’ri. He was a God, he wasn’t supposed to be running away from those pesky slaves!

He was so distracted with his inner ranting that he only noticed the attack when it was already too late. The guard to his right was hit by a flying jar, which broke easily against his armor, covering him in some sort of liquid. Ra took some splashing from the substance, and his nostrils were suddenly assaulted by the smell of oil. The armored guard was protected by his head gear, so he didn’t know what was it, and that was his downfall.

The Goa’uld started yelling him to stop, but it was also too late. The Jaffa turned in a single motion towards the Demon Girl standing to a distance and primed his staff to fire. The crackling energy in the emission head was enough to ignite the oil, and suddenly he turned into a torch. He stumbled backwards screaming, and he unwillingly touched Ra, and the oil on the Goa’uld also ignited. The false God instinctively used his hand device on his servant to throw him away, lest he cause more damage to him. Ra quickly doused the fire on himself, while his remaining guards stood between him and the Demon Girl.

The Jaffa warriors tried to hit her with their own staffs, but she was too quick for them. She sidestepped one shot and nimbly dodged another, and in the meantime she threw another jar on one of them, thus blocking his ability to fire his staff and ending with the same fate of his now dying companion.

Ra, even with the burns fueling his rage, turned around and started running to the Chappa’ai platform, a hundred yards away. He quickly reached a decision and left the swords fall to the ground. Maybe it would give him just enough time to go through the Gate and he could always come back with reinforcements to retrieve them from the girl’s dead hands, and to conquer the planet all over again.

Or maybe she would be a nice host for his Queen.

Yes, maybe this loss wasn’t so bad, after all.


The trick with the oil had worked better than she wanted. One of the Jaffa was dead or dying, the two others weren’t able to use their flaming staffs on her, and Ra was fleeing to the Chappa’ai, leaving his prize behind. The Slayer ran to the warriors still covering their God’s escape, her knives leading the way. The blades were sharp and reasonably well made, but she could as well be using stale bread to attack them, because they didn’t have the slightest chance of piercing their armor. Her only chance laid a few feet behind them, the bundle of cloth and leather that Ra fought to have but left behind in exchange of his own survival.

She closed in on the Jaffa, and one tried to hit her with his Staff, and even with the uneven footing the sand provided, she managed to jump over it. Instead of turning back to face them, she ran a few more feet, and rolled the last three until her hands closed on the bundle, one of the knives tearing the strips of leather in one single cut. She smiled deviously when her hands grabbed both swords, one in each hand. She had never touched them before, her teacher had forbid it, saying that their power could as easily destroy her as their enemies. However, once her hands had curled around both weapons, an incredible feeling of fulfillment shone through her soul.

One lone voice spoke in her mind, telling her to trust the power imbued in the swords, and to raise the one currently in her right hand. She did as asked, and the voice told her to say one single sentence to the heavens in her own language.

Ni’sha adur Grip’Thahak!”

In that exact moment, the tide of battle between the people of Earth and the Goa’uld invaders was changed forever.


Ra was waiting for the two last chevrons to light up when he decided to turn back to the battlefield. The Demon Girl had just grabbed the swords, as he had planned. However, instead of using them straight away against his Jaffa guard, she raised one of them to the sky. He didn’t hear what she spoke, but the energy field that emanated from the sword a moment later and the glow from the now engaged Gate turned the night into day for a few moments.

Once it disappeared, in place of the small girl stood an adult woman, dressed in strange armor. His guards stood mesmerized for a moment, but they were well trained in the arts of war, and in that particular moment in time, both their experience and their blind faith in their God were the determining factors in the outcome. The woman was more surprised than they were, and they took the opportunity to fire both their staff weapons at point blank range, never mind one of them turning into another human torch at the same time. In any other being, the twin blasts would leave behind just charred bits and pieces of whatever it was. On her, the magical protections in her armor took most of their force. Most, but not everything.

It was a mortal blow, assuredly. However, she still had some moments to live, and the blast propelled her almost to the escaping Goa’uld’s feet. Using whatever strength left on her, she turned around to him, still holding both swords. That’s when he realized his mistake, he should have fled though the Gate as soon as it engaged. Ra engaged his forcefield and waited.

With a mighty heave, she thrust her sword, aiming to the false God’s chest. The forcefield, able to withstand a small nuclear explosion, shorted out almost instantly, but the mere moment it held was enough to turn the killer blow into just a severe wounding one. The sword penetrated the Goa’uld just below the clavicle, entering almost to the hilt. Both the host and the false god screamed as one, and instinctively, he engaged his wrist device, throwing the woman several feet away, almost back to the point where she was blasted. However, the sword stayed buried on his body.

Too wounded to do anything else, he ran trough the wormhole, disappearing from Earth.


Once the battle finally wound down, the human survivors searched the battlefield for any of their own that still lived, while also killing the wounded or dying Jaffa and the snake demons still living in them. Fire was mostly used in every case, and thankfully no one was enslaved by the remaining demons. A child found the warrior woman bleeding badly, her arms and legs bent in odd directions. She ran away, screaming for an adult. The three men that came to help looked to one another, they knew her life could be measured in heartbeats. The oldest of them came close to her and bent down to hear her last words. She spoke briefly with him, gave him the other sword still clutched in her hand and took her last breath in this realm.

He stood up and turned to his companions.

“She said to bury the Chappa´ai, and to post warnings about its dangers. She said that someone will come looking for her, to know what happened. A…Watcher, she said. We are to give the sword to him, and to say that it is magical, and it has a great power for good, that in the future, the Heir to its powers will find it, and the tide of battle might once again be changed forever. She also said to have no fear, the sword’s sister will find a way back home, when the time is right.”

“Do you believe her?” one of the others asked.

“She helped us when she was just a little girl, and she killed more Jaffa than a hundred of us combined, and she dared face Ra. I believe we should honor her wishes, and do as she asked.”

“What about her?”

“She died a warrior’s death, we should give her a proper funeral, I think.”

“Then let’s go, brother. There is much to be done.”


Time moved as it should, one season giving way to the other. The wounded land and its people started once again believing in peace, and with the belief came growth. As the Slayer had predicted, a man came two seasons later, asking from town to town what had happened with the land and the people, and if they knew anything about a small girl and his older companion. Slowly but surely he was finally directed to the three men that knew of her death.

He met them in one of their houses, and he was invited to seat and take some refreshment from the heat.

“Tell me, are you the one called Watcher?”

The stranger looked at them warily, but nodded. “It’s a title, not a name. I am Ishumar.”

“Well, Ishumar, I believe we have stories to trade. We want to know what you can tell us about Slayer, and we want to tell you about her last days on this Earth, and the deed she asked of us.”

Ishumar nodded, and started talking, and the conversation stretched far into the night. The next afternoon, the Watcher departed, taking with him a sword that would change the world forever.
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