You were falling.

Falling, tumbling, collapsing gracelessly down the dais steps as the statue--no, not statue--as the man slowly rose--stone cracking, flaking off his form in thin grey sections--to tower over you.  Breathless, stunned, you lay at the bottom of the steps as he rose to his full height, white-hot eyes fixated on you.  He looked like no one you had ever seen, with short, white hair that fell to just over his eyes, and two thin braids--each feathered on one side--resting behind his right ear, and just over his shoulder.  His body was covered in a form-fitting garment that shone like obsidian, with a neckline low enough to expose an even tighter transparent garment covering his chest and halfway up his slender, elegant neck.  Long, thin twin daggers rested on either side of his hips.

Slowly, graceful as a tiger he began his descent, with every step seeming to grow a bit smaller, his eyes cooling from flame to a clear, lambent blue, rich as the summer sky and heavily lined with graceful black kohl, the smoothly shifting muscles of his body on display under the strange black cloth.  By the last few steps, he seemed just half a head taller than you, and he took one last step before slowly coming to a crouch at your feet, his broad shoulders blocking the view of everything other than him.  

Wordlessly, you examined one another, his eyes roving over your face, while you surreptitiously tried to peer through his black veil without seeming obvious.  From what you could see, his mouth--the mouth against which your own had been pressed mere moments ago--was neither thin, nor full, but perfectly in the middle, with a vulnerable, tenderly curved upper lip that invited all thoughts to disappear.  Crowning this anthropomorphic marvel was a small brown mole hiding the upper curve by the corner of his mouth, and you noticed it moving before comprehending that he was speaking.  

“What’s your name, little lamb?”

Belatedly, you opened your mouth to answer, when you realized…you couldn’t.  You couldn’t do anything.  Coherent thoughts wouldn’t come, and a heretofore unnoticed incipient pressure squeezed your chest. Your limbs felt weak--so weak that after a moment, the world tilted as you could no longer hold yourself upright.  As before, you fell, but this time, it was into the man’s arms.  Head lolling, you looked up to see his eyes narrowed in apparent suspicion.  Without a word, he moved back, holding you at arms length, gaze darting here and there as he moved your unresponsive body to and fro, as if searching for something.  

When he reached your ankles, he found it, muttering something under his breath that you didn’t have to know to understand that it was a curse.  He moved to heft you into his arms, when the twins slipped from around your arm, rearing back, hypnotically moving to and fro as they hissed.  Without a word, he stared at them, unblinking, commanding, fearless.  Slowly, slowly, they subsided, wrapping themselves once more around your arm, tongues flickering here and there against your skin.  

Once more clasping you in his arms, he quickly stood, and strode through the aperture of his chamber, though the chambers of The Smith, The Traveller, The Shadow, The Unburnt, The Warrior, and The Counsel, until he came to the room that housed The Balance, the soothing sound of the liquid falling from his amphora to the lake below inviting you to close your eyes, to sleep.  

The Seducer deposited you at the feet of The Balance--fortunately on his good side.  Reaching his hand under the flow, he cursed again at the sizzle of flesh as liquid met fingertips.  Roaring, he shook his hand, then waited a moment, before putting it once more under the stream.  

Once more, his fingers burned, and he gritted his teeth, making a fist as he glared malevolently at the statue with narrowed eyes.  Again, he put his hand under the stream, and again the hiss of burning skin echoed throughout the chamber.   “Zhāng Yïxïng,” he growled, roughly striking the figure on the chest.  “Do the hundreds of lifeless below not weigh the scales well enough?”  Seconds passed, and the statue remained implacable.  Slowly, cautiously, The Seducer moved his hand once more under the stream.  

Flesh rippled, crawling back over bloody muscle, and exposed white bone, though he gritted his teeth as if the process caused him pain.  Crouching once more, he hitched you against his body, your back resting against the warmth of his chest, your head lolling onto his shoulder, and cupped his hand under the flow before pouring it over your tattered feet, the poisoned scratches over your ankles.  Taking another palm of water, he brought it to your mouth, but you couldn’t coordinate your muscles to drink, couldn’t do anything as you sank deeper into the mental fog, your body no longer under your control.  Growling once more, he reached up and ripped off his veil, exposing a long, livid scar that ran from one ear, over the bridge of his nose, to the other.  Bowing his head, he the water into his mouth before grabbing you by the jaw, roughly forcing your mouth open, his fingers slightly slipping in his own blood.  

The feeling of the long silver band that encircled his penultimate finger was cool against your feverish cheek, but before you could register any other sensations, his mouth was on yours, forcing it open--refreshing, sweet water pouring from his lips to yours.  Lifting his head, he closed your mouth with one hand, while reaching down to your throat with the other, manually forcing you to swallow.  Reaching even lower, he spread his warm hand over your heart, forcefully pushing in a steady rhythm, until power stole back into your body.

Raggedly you inhaled, surprise flashing through your mind as you hadn’t even realized that you had stopped breathing.  Once again, he held his cupped hand under the ewer before bringing it to your mouth, and this time you drank greedily, restlessly moving as your body was assaulted with what felt like a thousand pins and needles.  Reaching up, you grasped him by the shoulder, panting as you stared into his eyes, gripped him tightly.  “More.”

A small, satisfied smile quirked the corner of his mouth as he once more gathered the healing water for you to drink.  “Imperious little lamb,” he murmured, watching as you drank before throwing back your head to heave for breath, your lungs feeling as if they were on fire.  

You both stayed like that for a while, until you calmed, and shame began to burn.  Not knowing what else to do, you pulled away, scrambled to your feet far less gracefully than you would have liked, but you were still getting used to once more having control over your body.  

He remained crouched as he looked up at you, amusement colouring his expression.  “Tell me, lambkin, whose life I’ve just had the pleasure of saving.”

Offended by his straightforward address, you looked down at him.  “What is your name?”

Raising an eyebrow, he smoothly rose until he was looking down at you.  “Baëkhyun.  Now,” he purred as he took a step closer, “Be a good girl, and answer my question.”

Incensed, you drew yourself up, and looked down your nose at him as best you could from your inferior height.  “I am the Queen of Sippar, First of My Name, Sovereign of the House of Erish, Queen of Queens of the Three Lands and the Empress of Two Seas, Commander of the Faithful and Successor of the First People, Empress of the Five Cities of Eridu, Bad-tibira, Larak, Sippar, and Shuruppak, Conqueror of the two Armies, Righteous Lady of Sumerians, Helper of the State and the People, Custodian of the Twelve Noble Sanctuaries, Victorious Conqueror--”

“Custodian of what?” he interrupted.

Inwardly furious, you nevertheless outwardly remained calm.  “The Twelve Noble Sanctuaries,” you answered tightly.

“I see,” he said softly.  “And in what capacity have you awakened me, sweet?” He took another step.

Nostrils flaring slightly at his effrontery, you said, “You are one of the noble guardians of Sippar.  I require your assistance.”  

Now both eyebrows were raised, as if in mild surprise. Slowly, he started to circle, looking you up and down as he moved.  “My assistance?”

“As one of our city’s noble guardians, I charge you to put your strength toward its service.”

“Noble guardian,” he murmured lightly.  “Is that what they’re telling the children nowadays?”

“I am no child!”

“Yes, I can see that,” he said, picking up a lock of your hair and smelling it, before allowing it to slide from his fingers as he continued his circular perusal.  “And what makes you think that I’m going to help?”

“You refuse to protect your city?  Your Queen?  You refuse to help me?”

“I never said that.”

Black spots danced in your vision due to the effort needed to keep your temper. “Will you, or will you not help?”

“For a price…”  He was behind you now, his fingertips lightly brushing the side of your neck.

You stilled, closing your eyes.  Inhaled deeply, before exhaling, letting out all of your anger, and frustration, and yes, fear.  Fear that you had done all of this for nothing.  That you would be the last of your line.  That you would be unable to protect your people.  Taking a moment, you looked inward, thought about just whom you had awakened.  Opening your eyes, you turned to meet his eyes.  “I offer you a queen.”

He came to stand before you, expression mildly surprised, but gratified.

Eyebrows snapping down over your eyes, you glared.  “Not me.”

“Pity,” he murmured, crossing his arms, and giving you a thoughtful once-over.  

“Sippar is in peril.  The queen of Eridu--Puabi--has insisted that I wed her halfwit son, lest she declare war.  Were I to do so, she would only rule through him.”

“So, go to war,” he said dismissively.

“No,” you responded, voice low, firm.  “I will not allow hundreds of thousands of innocent people to die for nothing.”

“Why couldn’t you marry the son, and ignore the mother?”

“Puabi is older than me; wiser.  She has experience on her side, and if I were to go against any of her dictates, then I wouldn’t put it past her to rid herself of me as soon as I’ve produced an heir.”

“So rid her of her own.”  His tone was negligent, but his gaze was rapt, flitting from here to there on your face, as if reading.  

“Hazi is innocent,” you protested.  “I cannot hurt an innocent man.”

Baëkhyun took a step back, looking at you thoughtfully.  “So…marry someone else.  A king, who could protect your city, perhaps.”

“That is also something that I cannot do.  Sippar is still the only governmental matriarchy of the Five Cities.  The only other offer I have is from a grasping old king who would force me into the role of something no better than a concubine.  I will not allow our way of life to fall under my reign.”   

“If matriarchy is so important, then why not allow Puabi to govern?  Bow your head and allow a more experienced queen to rule?”

“Puabi is…cruel,” you said slowly, thinking back to the hundreds of Eridites who had taken sanctuary in your city over the years..  “She taxes her people to the point of starvation, distracting them with fighting pits, instead of giving them bread.  She takes whatever she wants without restitution, and encourages the starving to pass their children through the fire in the hopes of celestial compensation.  Every year, she culls all of the comeliest youths for her harem--”

“That part doesn’t sound so bad,” he chuckled.

Your eyes filled with tears.

“If she treated them well, then I would stay silent.  If she were a good queen, then yes, I would bow my head.  But the torments that she devises…  She has them cut, to ensure that they cannot get children upon her.  They must stay inside the harem, unless called.  And when she does call them…the things that she does…  Many have gone insane from the games that she plays with them--makes them play with each other.  She hurts them until they forget themselves, until they’ll do anything for her.  And the ones who break in other ways she throws away, to fill the brothels that litter the city.”

He was silent for a moment.  And then, “So you want me to…”

Please Subscribe to read the full chapter