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My own power would keep me bound, and once he held it, I'd speculated that I'd not be able to regain it unless he relinquished it. Closing my eyes, I cast my mind out, checking the many wards I'd put in place.
The barrier, spanning the globe, would separate the peoples of magic from the humans. And the bubble over my valley, that regulated not only passage in and out, but their environment, granting them a temperate climate instead of the harsh polar weather. All of it was in place. Orcus and I were positioned at the exact magnetic north of my planet, harnessing the very fabric of magic I'd used to craft the world for our work. It was not easy, what I'd asked him to do, though he was nearly my equal in power—I'd made him to be my match, after all—our powers did not mix easily, and this would take both.
Once I was settled, arms floating out from my body, Orcus slipped his hands up through my hair to cradle my head.
“Open, princess,” he prompted.
Perhaps someday, following his orders would be simple, something I'd do without thought, but that order, so deceptively simple, initiated an internal battle fiercer than any he and I had ever waged. Tentatively at first, I reached my power toward him, the blue green of my magic appearing around me as tendrils. I focused on opening myself to him, on connecting. Another part of me, however, a baser, and perhaps more powerful part, resisted, whipping the tendrils of power away from him.
I was a god. I'd created this world, and him with it. What was more, I'd created him to be my opposite, my exact balance, and my very nature rebelled at the notion of offering myself to him. What we were doing disrupted the natural order I'd created so carefully. But that was the entire point, so I struggled.
With effort, I harnessed my power. Vaguely, I was aware of his hands wiping sweat from my brow and massaging my temples. I lost track of time, and eventually there was nothing but the feeling of his hands where they grounded me, and the battlewithin. I'd fought Orcus for years, wielding my powers against him, and it was not ready to be mastered by him. He wiped tears from my eyes and hummed to me when I wailed, my screams echoing through the cavern. He never spoke past the initial command. He could feel, I think, the struggle within me.
It was a test of endurance in the end, that of my will against the magic I held. For perhaps the first time ever, I proved myself worthy of the power I'd been granted as my birthright. When my power’s resistance finally broke, it flowed out of me, rushing to fill what it saw as the empty vessel that was Orcus. What I failed to expect was the corresponding rush of Orcus’s magic, and how it flowed back into me. Where my magic was vibrant and energetic, nearly bursting out of me with its exuberance, his was slow and intentional, molasses weeping out to impart its rich, deep flavor. It was dark, of course, but I was surprised to find how it didn’t suffocate me.
It filled me, seeping into the space opened by the absence of my own, and somehow finding crevices that I hadn’t even known existed within me.
In the space of a few seconds, they settled, the initial rush of the power exchange slowing to a churning equilibrium. Our magics danced inside me, inside him, between us, a slow, swirling mass of the purest power. I could feel them both. I held them both, and I opened my eyes with a gasp, blinking his face into focus.
During the time I’d fought my battle, I’d imagined Orcus would be annoyed at the length, but now his mouth fell open, and his hands trembled where they held me. A tentative touch brushed along my magic, gently nudging it to replace the light of the lanterns in the room. Their fires snuffed out, replaced with a glowing teal light that pulsed in time with my heartbeat.
“Mine,” he whispered. A ghost of a smile crept onto his face, and his eyes sparkled with the reflection of my magic. I felt him explore it, explore me, with the softest touch—no, caress. His physical fingers slipped through my hair, cradling my scalp, the fingers of his magic skated over my body.
Perhaps it seemed odd, a goddess with knots, but I can assure you, I’ve plenty of stress, and each firm press felt like a revelation. With deft fingers, he was unraveling a thousand years of worries.
And yet, I knew what was to come. With each knot he teased out, a new one formed. The slow realization hit me... this was part of my torture, my punishment. He wanted me languid and pliable; to lull me into a sense of complacency so he could break me all the quicker. It was an odd realization, because it brought with it a sense of peace. After all the wrongs I'd committed, unwittingly or no, I would atone for my wrongs, emerging at the end with a new outlook, and hopefully, a people who'd forged their own path.
“Relax.”
It was a command. One which he emphasized with his fingers and magic. I squeezed my eyes shut, dragging in a deep breath and willing myself to do so. After all, if I wanted to make things right, to truly atone for my wrongs, didn't Iwantto submit to his punishment? Didn't I want him to break me as quickly as possible? For a thousand years of war, people had died at my whim, waging a series of wars for my enjoyment at the triumph. It didn't matter that they'd all be reborn without my influence over the period of my sentence, they'd still experienced the pain I'd caused.
I wanted whatever he would bring me. Somewhere within, Icravedit.
He was right; I was his.
In Which the Lady Wakes in a Location Most Unfamiliar needs fn
Once it was done,I descended into nothingness for a time, until eventually, vaguely, I realized I could sense my body. The cool water buoyed me up, and my dress had dried. I tried twitching a finger, but the connection was so tenuous that my body didn't respond. Similarly, when I attempted to reach out using my magic, it resisted my direction, slipping through my fingers with a playfulness that reminded me of a pixie’s. I could almost hear the giggles, see the finger wave as it skittered away.
I retreated from my physical body, and found that wherever I was, I had some semblance of a body here. Soft blankets and a plush mattress enveloped me, and I yawned, stretching in the bed. For the first time, I experienced the hazy confusion of waking from sleep, because somehow, I'd slept. For the first time in my life, I'd experienced something I'd seen my people do so many times, their fragile, mortal bodies needing respite for the inundation of life's sensations.
I'd never needed it, always assuming it was for those weaker than I. And, after all, it looked entirely boring. Nothing happened whilst one slept, I'd thought, or worse, things did happen, but one would miss it. I was a goddess. I couldn't afford to miss anything. At first it was because I didn't want to miss a second of my entertainment playing out, but as I'd increased my people's autonomy, it had been because every time I diverted my attention they'd do something foolhardy. Couldn't they see that if they crossed that mountain pass, they'd be trapped before winter was over? Especially not when there was another not two weeks south that would be preferable?
But of course, they couldn't. Or perhaps they'd make a discovery while I was averting a crisis elsewhere, one that would lead to technological advancement on the scale which I was not yet prepared to deal with. Couldn't they see that if they forged ahead blindly, they'd end up exactly like that poor planet Earth?
They needed me, I'd thought. Needed my guiding hand to set them back on track. On the slow, steady path of advancement that would lead to a more sustainable future. In hindsight, of course, I could see what hubris that was.
The surrounding room was dimly lit, so it didn't hurt my eyes. The bed I lay in had a large canopy, swathed with deep greencurtains. Beyond them, the light of candles flickered, and the sounds of a popping fireplace told me I wasn't alone.
Sweeping the curtains aside, I saw I was in a room that looked as if it had been carved from the cavern where my body floated. In front of the fire, a pair of high-back chairs sat with a table between them. The table held a flagon, a pair of goblets, and a cloche. After scanning the room, I decided that while Orcus was obviously around; he wasn't currently in the room with me.
I padded across to the table, removing the cloche to find a steaming bowl of chowder, a hunk of thick, crusty bread, and a dainty cupcake.
I frowned, immediately suspicious. I was a prisoner, and he fed me my favorite foods, complete with dessert? It had to be a trap.
The flagon proved to be wine, which smelled like a vintage I adored. It was all too perfect. While the room didn't adhere to my personal preference, it appeared designed to comfort me. One wall was covered by floor to ceiling bookshelves, with books looking to be arranged by age. Farthest left, I could see some of my favorites from Earth, near the middle, more modern books from Earth that I didn't recognize, and to the far right were a selection of books written by my own people. In front of the shelves sat a large, dark wood desk. It was neatly adorned with a bunch of moonflowers, a selection of papers, writing implements, and a typewriter. Flipping through a notebook I found, I could see that all the pages were blank, though some had patterns swirling at the edges. Opening the drawers revealed an array of journals, sketchbooks, and sealing waxes. Perhaps I'd be given homework as part of my rehabilitation. Did Orcus not know that I adored study?
He could mean to use it against me,orhe could always use it as a reward. Yes, that must be it. This room was designed to tempt me, an incentive he'd dangle over my head for good behavior. It was smart, really. Though I shouldn't be surprised, he'd been made to be cunning.
