Private Tales The Gods don't knock

[Nym]

She hated when he had to leave, but she'd already stalled him as much as she could and now he was scrambling about her room collecting his strewn clothes whilst she watched from the bed. She lay on her stomach, wearing nothing but a dimpled grin as she watched him hop around, pulling on his boots and she threw his shirt at him with a quiet laugh in amusement. When dressed, the Captain returned to her for a final, heated kiss before rushing out of her room, leaving her lost in the silence of his absence and craving more of him.

Their visits were more often than not, tiring. Her caramel skin glistened with a fine dusting of sweat and she stretched and sprawled out on the bed, intending on catching up on at least one lost hour of sleep before she faced the day.

 

[Gerra]

Barely had the Captain left when the door groaned open again, admitting a figure who stooped to enter, lest his head beat upon the doorframe.

Red-gold eyes that smoldered like awakened embers looked down upon the naked form of the princess with a gaze that did not pierce so much as it consumed. Broad lips thinned into an inscrutable expression on a face that might as well have been hewn from black marble. His tunic, several shades darker than his skin, did not announce him as royalty. Nor did the glittering rings upon his fingers, the amulet about his neck, or the ruby studded earrings.

Yet none could mistake Hasuras na-Gerra, god-emperor of Amol-Kalit, prophet of Abtatu, prince among the Hundreds for anything other than what he was.

He arched a brow at sweat-soaked sheets and the lithe form stretched out upon them.

“My, my, you have been busy.”

 

[Nym]

The sound of the door opening again caused Nym's lips to twist into a wry smirk as she assumed Uvogin had forgotten something and she lifted her head. Her smile faded immediately, but she didn't move. She had avoided seeing Gerra since the day she'd almost succeeded in killing him, the last time she'd set eyes on him had been in those cells and the memory brought about a wave of nausea.

She propped herself up onto her elbows and returned his gaze, her jade hues settling on his, trying as hard as she could not to appear as intimidated as she felt by him. It was difficult not to. His comment prompted a quiet huff and she rolled herself over to slip out of bed and she paced boldly to the other side of the room to pull on her silk nightgown and cover her bruised skin. She ran her fingers through her hair to tame the waves a little, but it was pointless trying to look presentable now.

"Most people knock, but I suppose you're not most people.." she glanced to him and pivoted on her heels to go and pour two cups of wine on the table on her balcony. She lifted them both, and wandered back over to him. She took a small sip from one of the cups before offering it up to him, just in case he suspected her of trying to end his life for a second time.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?...." she asked and lifted her chin to look up at him.

 

[Gerra]

“Please,” rumbled Gerra, shamelessly admiring the view, “the pleasure is all mine.”

He held up a hand, accepting the cup. His lips brushed against the enameled clay and he sipped lightly, watching her over the rim, then he promptly plopped down on the bed. It creaked in protest.

“Sit.”

He patted the bed, then frowned when his hand came away damp.

“Have you heard the tale of the adder and the horse? No I don’t imagine you have. It’s an Abtati legend. The adder and horse both wished to cross the Baal-Duru. The adder asked the horse to carry her, but the horse said no, you will bite me and we will both die! I will not, replied the adder. Reluctantly, the horse agreed. Halfway across the great river, the adder bit him. Why, cried the horse, now we will both drown. The adder shrugged and said, you knew what I was when I picked me up.... then they both drowned.”

Gerra took another sip.

“It occurred to me, as I lay face down in my own pond, drowning and stabbed through the chest, that you may not have been entirely convinced of my sincerity.”

A large hand waved to dismiss any forthcoming response. He quaffed deeply from the wine cup.

“Imagine my surprise to find you fucking my Captain. The same Captain who cut off your finger. The same Captain charged with protecting me. Should I assume you are using him to get closer to me for a second attempt? That would be the sane response, I think. Don’t you?”

 

[Nym]

The deep tones of his voice should have been something that soothed, instead it only seemed to reverberate in her bones and shake her core with increasing anxiety. Of course, he wouldn't have forgotten their last meeting, and likely never would, and here and now alone with him she felt entirely vulnerable.

She sighed and climbed up onto the bed, curling her legs in against her and sipping on her drink as she listened. She knew the story had an unhappy ending as soon as he mentioned the adder, and her gaze fell to the wine she swirled slowly in her cup, only to lift again as he recalled his near death.

Her lips parted to respond but she paused as he waved his hand and she remained quiet. As he concluded with a question, Nym let out a quiet huff and nodded "It would be a very sane response." she answered honestly. "But it isn't the truth. By all accounts if I wanted to be any closer to you, Gerra, I'd have sought you out again long before now. He was doing his job, as he always does. And I'm certain he'd do the same again and worse if I dared attempt what I did before.." she looked up with a brief shrug of her shoulder and pulled her nightgown over the bruses at the side of her neck. "We enjoy each other...I have no ulterior motive" her brow lifted, and she stared back at him over the rim of her cup as she drank.

 

[Gerra]

A pained expression flitted across his face at the sight of the bruises, but disappeared as quickly as a desert mirage, making one wonder whether it had ever truly existed.

The half-giant’s fingers reached out, large and rough, calloused by years spent beating hot iron into the shape of his pleasing upon an anvil... and years spent beating his enemies into dust on campaign, but when they brushed against her neck, just above the bruises, they were gentle. The kind of gentleness that spoke of familiarity with handling delicate and fragile things that could break at a touch. Yet fragility did not mean weakness, merely... complexity. The complexity of a rose, of blown glass, of the gears of a clock, or the setting of a gem.

“Where did your fire go?“ muttered Gerra. “Do you not still long to be free. To have me killed. To seek revenge?”

The fingers closed around her throat.

“I could crush you now like an ant.”

 

[Nym]

Nym didn't move as his hand reached out to her neck. Her jaw clenched at the delicate touch and she held his gaze with her usual hint of defiance that'd come from simply being who she was. She reminded herself, however, who he was, and what she'd done, and her breathing hitched slightly.

Her lips parted to answer his questions when his fingers closed around her throat. There was no hiding her pounding heart under his grip, her pulse pitched to frantic. She could feel just how easy it'd be, a simple squeeze and her neck would snap, she didn't wish to test the theory.

"I have plenty of fire.. But I am free." she swallowed, her chest rising and falling with each breath, savouring them in fear of being deprived at any moment. "I've no desire to try again.. You have your captain to thank for that. You treated me better than you had to, even after I stabbed you in the heart. I realised... I didn't give you much of a chance." her jaw clenched again. "I was told you were a monster. And you may be. But I lived my life with monsters."

"I chose to stay because I found a little peace..." she stared back at him with a soft frown, and awaited his judgement.

 

[Gerra]

The grip around her neck didn’t lessen. He could feel her racing pulse beneath his fingertips, a terrified tattoo. Something dark inside urged him to squeeze. It wouldn’t take much, just the closing of his fist to feel her trachea collapse like a wet reed, to hear her lurching gasps as she struggled useless for air. He could watch her flail about on the bed like an upturned beetle, legs kicking. The darkness whispered in his ear, pulled on his heart, reminding him of the pain when her blade drove into his chest. It would be so easy to crush her now. It would feel so righteous. And Uvogin would return to find a half-naked corpse. Wouldn’t that be a message.

But Gerra had received such messages before. Menalus loved to send them.

The thought abruptly banished the darkness in his mind and the pressure on her throat vanished. Instead, he cupped her cheek. In her eyes he could still see the defiance.

“Peace? If I ordered him, Uvogin would murder you in your sleep. We are all monsters here, Princess. Including you.”

 

[Nym]

A glint of fear flashed briefly across her face as he seemed to be considering, whether or not he knew it, she could tell what he was thinking. She'd been in his position many times, and she'd always opted to kill because it was what she'd been told to do. At least the Emperor answered only to himself, he was free to make his own choices, which she hoped would give her more of a chance. She knew fighting would be futile, and she'd always known that her life was his anyway..

A shaky breath escaped her as he released her throat and she dropped her gaze for a moment's relief as he cupped her cheek. Her brow furrowed gently and her eyes settled on his chest for a moment before wandering back to meet his molten gaze.. "I'm aware of that.." she answered with a bit of a bite. "But that wasn't entirely what I meant." her gaze narrowed. Her reason for staying in Ragash was far more complex, in fact she'd found far more freedom here than she ever had on her father's leash as well as enjoying certain affections she'd never expected to enjoy. Medja treated her far more kindly than her own family had..for now, at least, she always somehow expected that may be easily changed. And of course, there was Uvogin, whom he was now threatening her with.

"I've never claimed to be anything else...But then you know something of fathers and the paths they can force upon their children..." Nym's brow arched as she recited word for word what he'd said to her in the cells.

 

[Gerra]

“I do indeed.”

His hand dropped to his side and he took another sip of his wine, a long sip.

“You’re terrified of me,” muttered the Emperor. “And why wouldn’t you be. You blame me for your father’s death, for the situation you’re in now. You might even think I would command Uvogin to kill you.”

He thought about it.

“Maybe I would.”

Gerra’s eyes settled back onto her, watching the rise and fall of her chest with every anxious breath, the sheen of sweat on her caramel skin, the spark of rebellion in her eyes.

“Before we met, I had thought I could settle everything with a marriage deal, you know. So simple, to secure Salitra with a few words and a formal vow. You’d have been just another concubine in the harem. Another political nicety to placate the nobles. I didn’t think you would be so... intractable.”

He grimaced

“And then you stabbed me in the chest.”

His searing gaze locked with hers, hungry.

“But still... when you burn away all else. I desire you. You know it. I can see it in your eyes.“

 

[Nym]

Her eyes remained on him, jade hues slightly narrowed in consideration of his words but she offered no retort. She wouldn't put it past him to request such a thing of Uvogin and her jaw clenched. She was sure the Captain wouldn't want to kill her and yet Gerra would make him do it anyway, he was as much of a prisoner to Gerra as she was..

Nym grit her teeth and looked away from him for a brief moment rather than betray the anger she felt in fear of his hand returning to her throat. She turned back to meet his gaze however as he reminded her of her crime and her features softened with a dreaded realisation of what he wanted.

"My father had no wish to marry me off to anyone, nor would he have allowed it." she answered sharply.. He was handsome, of course, but in honesty he terrified her and part of her did blame him for her father’s death. His hunger for power brought her world crashing down around her regardless of his reasons for doing so.

“I’m flattered.. But I have no wish to become a political nicety..” she answered with a frown.

“Is this why you sought me out? To threaten me then expect me to swoon over your desires?”

 

[Gerra]

“No,” the word hissed from his mouth like hot air from a caldera. “I don’t want you as a some ornament to my collection. I don’t want you as a bride. I don’t care if you bed my Captain.”

His lips twitched with emotion as half-restrained as the half-blood rushing through his veins.

“I want you. Forget alliances. Forget the empire. Let it all burn.”

The red-gold of his irises danced as though reflecting flame.

 

[Nym]

Her mouth fell open just slightly, but she couldn’t find the words to speak and her lips closed again and pressed tightly, locking in her thoughts for another moment and allowing a harsh silence to fall between them as she studied his face.

Forget the Empire? Everything he'd worked for, everything her people and her father had died for, the apparent peace that he'd wished for and he was really about to burn it all down just for her? Did he really expect her to believe that?..

She pulled in a breath and curled a lock of hair behind her ear as she looked down for another short reprieve from his gaze, and she lifted it slowly and let the breath go in a sigh as they locked eyes again, entirely expressionless.

"You can't have me.."

 

[Gerra]

Wisps of smoke curled from the tips of his fingers.

His eyes, filled with that consuming desire, narrowed.

“And why not?”

The half-giant went to take another sip, but found his cup empty. He gestured. A ring on his hand flashed. The wine jug floated over to him on thin air. He poured himself more.

 

[Nym]

Nym drained the last of the wine from her cup as she considered her next answer and her eyes mimicked his and narrowed right back.

"What does it matter what my reasons are, Gerra? You have my answer." she frowned gently. "As.. special, as I feel to hear that you would burn down everything you've worked to achieve just to have me in your bed. I've betrayed my father's memory enough by agreeing to work for Medja, how much of an insult would it be to his name if I climbed straight into bed with the Emperor who usurped him? What would my poor mother think?.." her brow arched and she gave a brief smirk of amusement.

Of course, there was the infatuation of his Captain that she was currently consumed by, her eyes hadn't wandered in some weeks, but she'd keep those reasons to herself, she knew how they'd be met if she voiced them to Gerra. She'd might even wind up with a knife in her throat as she slept.

"I may be young, Gerra. But I'm not as gullible as you might believe.. Just a moment ago you considered snapping my neck followed swiftly by giving everything up for me.." she smiled.. "Why are you really here?" her head tilted.

 

[Gerra]

Laughter, not a sweet sonnet, but harsh and volcanic, like the venting of magma from a troubled mounted.

“Is that what you think? That I would undo everything I’ve worked to build for you? No. What I meant is that I would let it lay neglected. That for an hour I would forget that you tried to kill me, or that the empire is in jeopardy just by me being here. That I would put it all in the balance for a moment of passion. Because the best art isn’t in paintings, Princess. It’s in the fleeting moments of tragedy and joy. That is the canvas on which the gods paint.”

More wine.

“Who cares about your father? None mourn him. His own people spit on his grave. I thought you were a rebel...” he shook his head. “Still dancing to his strings.”

 

[Nym]

Her lips twisted and she refrained from rolling her eyes .. "Hm.. right." she nodded slowly.. "That's truly beautiful..." she mused.

The comments that followed caused her muscles to tense and her skin to warm over that fire he spoke about. She couldn't allow him to provoke her, but she was struggling not to react. Was that what he wanted?

"I do." she frowned, her glare a venomous green.. "And you know it." her jaw clenched and she looked down, her fingers tightening around the empty cup in her hand.. "I never claimed to be a rebel, I was loyal to my family, there's nothing rebellious about it." she looked up, her eyes glassy with anger.

"If there's nothing else..." she huffed quietly.

 

[Gerra]

“Why? He doesn’t deserve your loyalty. He was a butcher and a tyrant. The world is better off without him. I would thank Harrier if I saw her again.”

He drank deeply from his cup. Now that he had the entire jug, he didn’t seem to be showing any signs of stopping.

“And another thing. Uvogin cut off your finger. Tortured you. Do you simply enjoy being beholden to abusers? Yes, that must be it. Without your father here someone has to fill that void I suppose.”

 

[Nym]

Nym laughed at him now, contradicted by the anger blazing in her eyes "And you deserve my loyalty, do you? Perhaps the world is better off without him, but how much better off would it be without you? You said you are all for peace but you won't spare a thought for those you need to kill to get what you want. You're no better, not really." she scowled at him.

He was pushing her now and she seethed as he spoke of Uvogin and insulted her and her father yet again. She snapped at his last words, and her hand shot out like a venomous snake, aiming a punch at his face with a hope of breaking the emperor's nose.

 

[Gerra]

Those rough, calloused fingers wrapped around her wrist - all gentleness gone from their touch - and arrested her blow mere inches from his face.

His eyes shimmered with heat.

He dragged her close to him on the bed so that he looked down into those hate filled eyes. So much venom. So much rage. He knew that fury. Knew it well. Always bridled beneath the surface. Always so close to breaking free.

When he spoke earlier of monsters, he knew himself to be one.

He had met many good men. Most were dead now. Killed by those the world deemed great. Greatness and goodness seldom mixed. And if he had to choose between them, well...

“Without me, this land would crumble back into the pieces it lay in when I found it,” he rasped, his breath hot, his words the deep quake of an angered mountain, the stirred wroth of a volcano, brimming with hideous might.

“Give your loyalty to whom you will. Your bed to whom you please. But do not for a moment compare me to them. Your father was a fat pig, only capable of engorging himself on what lay in front of him.”

Just like Menalus.

“I have a vision. I have a dream. And yes, you are right. Whatever stands in the path of that dream will either join me, or become ash. Do. You. Understand.”

 

[Nym]

Nothing in her face betrayed her fear, she wore a mask of defiance and surety, but as he dragged her closer to him her pulse quickened again and her fist tightened until her knuckles paled. She let out a shuddered breath and pressed her lips into a thin line rather than let another escape.

His voice sent a tingle of anxiety dancing up her spine, but she clenched her jaw and held his gaze regardless, her brow knit as she listened. There was another flare of rage as he continued to throw insult at her dead father and she pulled pointlessly at her wrist, her slender form exuding a venomous animosity.

After Uvogin's words about Gerra, Nym had hoped to settle things with the Emperor, hold a civilised conversation, admit she'd been hasty, try to make amends. Now he'd barged into her room, threatened her, desired her and insulted her.. All thoughts of resolving her strained relations with him were expunged.

Nym allowed him to finish speaking and her eyes narrowed slightly at the gravity of his final statement.. "There he is..." she sneered at him, as though she'd seen through all of his masquerades of feigned kindness and gentle touches. "His father's son.." her head tilted. She'd said it to irritate him, he clearly believed they shared similar familial issues, she'd seen it in his eyes in that cell, and she fucking hoped it stung.

 

[Gerra]

The caldera of wroth that bubbled beneath the surface erupted in a jet of sudden and extreme violence. He hurled the jug of wine across the room with such force that it exploded into a hundred pieces and painted the entire wall in a splash of wine red as blood.

The hand that held her wrist tightened as he struggled with the fury, so desperately wanting to snap her wrist and feel her bones break beneath his grip. To grind her into nothing. His eyes stood wide, his nostrils flared like a rampant bull.

His red hair seemed alive with tongues of fire. His eyes burned like hot coals.

How dare she speak to him. How dare she even look at him.

“Don’t speak of what you don’t know, you ignorant parasite,” he snarled. “After what you did to your own people. Gutted like fucking fish. I should burn you alive right here.”

His hand grew impossibly hot on her wrist, fueled by his fury.

“Right NOW. The gods know you would fucking deserve it.”

As would I.

Burning villages.

Mounds of dwarven dead.

The wailing of women and children.

Rivers of blood.

 

[Nym]

So it did sting..

She'd touched that nerve, his fury shook her and she flinched as he threw the jug of wine to shatter on the wall. Her breathing pitched frantically as his grip burned into her skin and she struggled against his tightening grip, a few soft cries in plea to let go.

Jade pools wide with fear looked up at the sight of his rage, but he continued to probe at her own temper and despite the burning pain she growled through gritted teeth at him. "Then fucking do it. Because that's who you are, just another tyrant, don't speak to me about the people that I've killed, you've killed far more under your own command. At least I was only following orders, you know, like how you get Uvogin to do your dirty work.." she laughed and shook her head despite how afraid she was that she'd pushed him too far.

 

[Gerra]

With a wordless snarl, the half-giant released her and rose from the bed. The wine cup cracked beneath his grip and he let the bloody shards fall to the ground, heedless of the crimson dripping from his hand.

“You think you understand, but you don’t. You’re still nothing more than a puppet. Until you cut your strings, you’ll never know.”

Never know what I know, or how I feel. I had to sever my connection to him. Had to flee to the other end of the world. She still clings to the memory of a dead swine, heedless of the stench. She’ll never understand.

Then the Emperor barged out of her room like a storm cloud, rattling the walls with his passage.

 

[Nym]

Nym had more venom to bite with but she decided she'd pushed him far enough and she bit her tongue instead.

She waited for him to leave before trembling and letting out a shuddered breath, clutching her searing wrist against her chest and giving in to the panic that’d been so eager to break through her stubbornness.

She slid from her bed and onto the floor, and silently cried.