Queen of Blood II//The Golden Vision
Her nose itched in irritation; the thick incense that covered the room irked her, deeply. It did not provide her any comfort, devoid of all its usual welcoming warmth, it was naught but a cold embrace of futility.
The Reverend Priestess, Mother Maira, made to lift herself up from her submission to God. A wave from her hand, halted her. She was, in no mood to lend an ear to the incessant whisperings of the Reverend Mother. The woman was wise, yes. But, she spoke too much, much of which was nonsensical, useless, worthless to her. Sometimes, her mind, or was it something else? She does not remember, commanded her to commune with the Mother. She had obeyed. It still whispered to her, alluringly so, to commune, to hear, to understand; she does not heed its call. Were the circumstances any different, she would have.
However, time was of the essence.
“I demand communion!” Her words made the room colder, unwelcoming, uncomfortable, uninhabitable. Mother Maira's eyes snapped towards her, even the veil that Maira wore, could not disguise the shock in her eyes.
“A communion, child?” Her voice was a cold whisper, yet it resounded through the room.
Ishtar nodded at her. Maira stood up from the ground and walked up to her. She stood in front of her and locked her gaze with Ishtar. Maira's eyes searched for something within her. Perhaps, her reasons for demanding a communion. Perhaps, her resolve to undergo the ritual. Perhaps, it was nothing but an attempt at intimidation.
Regardless, Maira seemed to have found something in her gaze as she nodded in satisfaction. And, she was thankful for it. She could not and would not admit the humiliation that she has suffered. An entire army, defeated, defeated! The highest humiliation that she had ever suffered in all her years.
“Very well, child. You demand a communion, then the Church shall provide you a communion. Glory be to his blood!”
“Glory! Glory!” The shouts resounded across the room. Voices joined in an unholy orchestra as they praised her forefather. Voices came from corners–from windows–from doors, that she had failed to even take notice of. The words of the Reverend Mother bled life into this dark and frigid place, places before unseen were now visible, priests who appeared on the verge of demise seemed to have been revived. All were alive as their chants faded, replaced once more by the calm silence.
As they faded away, sunlight streamed down into the room, carving out its path through the oppressive darkness. A proverbial light at the end of the darkness. Her eyes took notice of the pool at the center of the room, as sunlight illuminated it. The sunlight hitting it softly, the water shone brightly as if it was golden.
“Walk, child. Walk towards your destiny,” The words went unheard, as she walked in a trance. Her feet traversed across the room, a smooth and surprisingly fluffy carpet beneath her bare feet. Her hands working at the laces and knots of her dress, as she walked towards the destiny of her bloodline.
Her feet submerged themselves into the golden water, causing a shiver to go up her spine. The water was cold, no, it was warm, yes, it was warm. Warm like the embrace of her lover, warm like the forgotten embrace of her mother and father, the passing warmth of her treacherous sisters. Wait! When did I undress myself?, she questioned herself with a start, as her body began to submerge itself into the waters.
“Do not fret, over your clothes, child,” Ishtar's head snapped towards Maira, her body temporarily halted in its dive. Maira held her crimson dress in her hands along with her underclothes, she continued,“I shall take care of them. Now, dream, child. Dream of what is to come, dream of future’s past, dream of those whose blood is paler than yours. Dream of the eternity that is to come. Dream.”
Her eyes closed relaxingly as her body submerged completely into the water. The water was her guide, her Ally, her dream.
Ishtar's eyes snapped open. Loud coughing accompanied her labored breaths. With each cough, her body expunged the water from itself, until there was none left. Oh~ sweet peace. She breathed deeply and fully, like a man who had been choked till near death. Well, she had been choked to near death.
She rubbed her teary eyes, clearing her vision. Her mouth hung open in shock. All around her, was water. Though, she suspected it was something else, something more than just water. For the liquid was pitch black in color with a golden hue. A rather absurd sight. The water stretched as far as the eye could see. However, it was unlike any ocean that she had seen. No ocean would ever be this calm, no ocean would sport such an insidious look, no ocean would lack waves, lack movement, lack life.
She was, fortunately, upon the only ground in this absurd reality. An extremely tiny island, although calling it an island might be far-fetched since the plot of sand was barely enough to hold her, with a date palm at its center.
“You? What are you doing here?”
Ishtar jumped in fright, falling towards the ocean of ink. She snapped her eyes shut and held her breath, waiting for the inevitable splash. A splash which never came. She opened her eyes, only to see that she was floating in the air, a few inches above the ocean.
“A thank you, shall be sufficient,” The voice intoned and her eyes snapped towards its source. The woman was a beauty, a beauty of the kind that would have men and women alike fighting for her hand. She was called, the most beautiful woman to have ever lived but as she stared at this unknown woman? She doubted the accuracy of that statement. Ishtar could admit, in the depth of her heart, that she could not hold a candle to this woman.
“Oh! Thank you! Super appreciate your words!” The woman laughed deeply, her unruly black hair fluttering wildly in the air, her golden eyes twinkling with amusement and mockery?
“Hahahaha! Wow! You have, my heartfelt gratitude, Ishtar! I have seldom had moments of humor in recent times,” As her laughter subsided, she wiped a tear from her eye, sighed deeply and spoke, “And thus, I humbly thank you.” Her words were accompanied by a curtsey. A curtsey filled with naught but mockery.
Wait! Did the woman just read her thoughts? Ishtar opened her mouth to speak but failed to voice her question. Her mouth failing to emit any sound.
The woman tutted at her, treating her as if she was but a child. “No, no, no, we can't have you speaking now, can we? Nope, we can not. Unacceptable,” She made an attempt to speak but found herself unable to move her lips. She could not even feel them! A panic set into her and she flailed her arms in the air, trying and failing to pry her mouth open. Her nails dug into her lips, about to cut them open. However, her hands ripped away from her face and snapped to her side, completely stationary.
She could feel them, yes, but she could not move them. From the reflection in the black inky waters, she could see herself being hoisted in a crucifixion pose. Was this woman going to fucking sacrifice her?!!
“Oh! Calm your fucking mind! There ain't no sacrifice involved here! Nope. Not at all.”
She did it again. How in Celeste’s holy name, did she read her mind?
“I have my ways~” The woman informed her in a sweet and cute manner. A fake sort of sweetness. The kind that puts a bitter taste into one's mouth. Matter of fact, she could already feel an ironish taste on her tongue. Wait! A coughing fit wracked her body as globs of blood flew out her mouth.
“Oh! Oh dear, it seems our time has come to an abrupt end,” the woman shook her head, as if pained by such an event, “It had been a pleasure to converse with your Queenly self. I, always enjoyed conversations with people, who are terribly good listeners. Truly, a most refreshing communion,” Ishtar's blood addled coughs gave the woman pause, “Ah, yes. I had, almost forgotten your plight. You should understand my plight, dearie, tis too rare for me to have such intellectual conversations. Far too rare.”
A sudden burst of pain within her bosom, made her eyes go wide with anguish. Her mouth was desperately trying to scream for mercy, yet the woman's magic held it shut. The woman's reverie broke as a pitiful whine left Ishtar's mouth.
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“Oh, I'm terribly sorry, dear. I do apologize for my ramblings, truly I do, and do so, deeply, very very deeply. Thus, it is with my graceful apologies that I bid thee adieu, ancestor o'mine,” With a smirk, a smirk that resembled her's so hauntingly, she held out her hand and waved. As if a thread had been severed, the magic that held her up ceased and she fell. Fell into the black waters below.
Once again, she was drowning.
Ishtar's eyes snapped open. Her hands traveled across her body, shakily, unsure, troubled, confused. A sense of comfort brewed in her mind, as she found herself as dry as sand.
A dream then, she decided. A rather vivid dream but a dream nonetheless. Perhaps, she ought to delay her communion. Take a while, to gather her wits before taking a dive into the pond. It would certainly be preferable than exhibiting unseemly behavior in front of the priestesses.
She pushed herself off the floor, sighing mentally. It seems, some habits are harder to kill, she shook her head in disappointment. What kind of ruler had nightmares? What kind of ruler slept on the floor? What kind–
She shook her head. There was no point in mentally berating herself. She had learnt better from her father; a ruler who drowns in self deprecation, can never be fit for the realm. She had to prove him right, to prove all her people right, to prove herself right.
“Why the hell, is it so dark?” She mumbled to herself. She made to call for her handmaiden, when a tremor swept her off her feet.
A flash of a fiery light illuminated the room. A chill went up her spine. For the room, was not her's. Where her's was spacious, this one was compact, claustrophobic. Where her's was richly decorated with the finest of silks and carpets, this was barren, devoid of any signs of life. It looked more like an abandoned attic; a layer of dust covered everything. She rubbed the dust between her fingers. No, not dust. It was sand.
She doubted that the room was in the castle, at all. If it was, then her staff required another dose of motivation.
As she made to rise, another violent tremor shook the building savagely. Accompanying it, was a blast of fiery light.
Is that, an explosion?, she questioned mentally. It was far-fetched, yes. But, she knew only explosions to behave in such a manner. Although, an explosion on this scale? It was impossible. And, considering the sand, this was most likely dear sister Blake's territory. A harlot, such as her, could never obtain gunpowder on such a scale. Fuck, Blake knowing about gunpowder itself was far-fetched in of itself. Wisdom had always been chasing her, Alas she had always been faster.
“You are right. It is, indeed, not your sister Blake,” Ishtar jumped back in shock, pushing herself on her feet with her father's dagger in her hand. Another tremor shook the building, the light cascaded down the intruder’s face. She recognised him instantly, although his face looked withered, inexpressibly wise and tired; so unlike the cocky and young face, she had grown accustomed to. Yet there was no way, that she could ever fail to recognise his grating yet warm voice.
“Agony… Agony?!” Ishtar questioned, her mind overcome by shock. How was Agony here? He was meant to be leading the Cardinals against Willow's legions. Had he finally had enough of her? Decided that the realm was better off without her? Had he betrayed her as well??
Agony laughed, although it was laced with a degree of pain and regret. “That is, completely untrue, Ishtar. Even, you know that,” Ishtar nodded until she realized that he had read her thoughts.
Before, she could voice her shock, Agony spoke, “You demanded communion, did you not? Well, here I am. I, shall be your oracle for the night. If, you would have me, that is,” Agony raised a brow. Ishtar found herself replying even before she could think, “Yes, of course.”
Agony let out a smile and patted the sand covered spot next to him. She obliged him and sat, uncaring of the cleanliness of her dress. She had many others, besides, the dress was already caked in sand and dust.
Another tremor, this time, the building itself vibrated to its tune. As if, wishing to rip itself out of its foundations. A flash of light, brighter than the last, illuminated the room and the outside. She could see, a pensive expression take hold of Agony.
“You wish to know of the explosions, don't you?” Agony voiced and she nodded. Her previous questions of his abilities regarding mind reading, forgotten; anything was possible, afterall, in a communion.
“Your blood, is strong Ishtar. Stronger than any other. Stronger, perhaps, than even that which pumps through the veins of the very god's of your period,” Agony sighed as he continued, his voice filled with guilt and another emotion which she couldn't quite recognise, “I.. I had failed, Ishtar. Failed in my duty. Failed at my only purpose in life. I had to repent for those sins, you understand, right?” His hands grasped hers, tightly and she nodded, unwilling to bring him any form of hurt.
“The explosions, they.. they are my repentance. A woman of foreign blood rules the empire, now. A woman, who shares not a drop of your blood yet, she rules fairer than your own descendant. These explosions, this inferno is her wrath. She and, the empire had been wronged. Thus, she exacts revenge. She is like you, you know?”
Ishtar’s brow rose in surprise. The woman was like her? Intriguing. “Like me? Huh. How so?” She asked.
“She does, what you do,” His vague reply irked her. Although, she knew, what he meant. Nevertheless, she pestered him, “And, what is it that she does?”
“Kill mercilessly,”
Ishtar did not respond. For, how could she? Agony had stated the truth. The blunt, harsh, bitter truth. She might delude herself, justify that it was not the same. But, it would be foolish and weak. A ruler did, what she did because if not her, then who? A ruler was meant to take the harsher decisions, to accept its consequences, for if not her, then who? If, she could not come to terms with her vile actions, then how could she expect her commanders to do the same?
She may be a tyrant, a mass murdering warlord, a warmonger. She may be, all of that. And she accepts it, because if not her? Then who? Who shall take responsibility? Her future children? The man she loves? Her commanders? Nay, the burden of her sins, was hers to bear.
“You shall not grace me with a response? Not even, an attempt at mounting a defense?” Agony questioned her, breaking her out of her thoughts.
She shook her head, “I am surprised, that you had such strong feelings on this matter. How come, you never voiced them?”
Agony did not point out, her obvious attempt at diverting the conversation and instead replied, “Because, it is different,”
“Different? Different?” She rolled her eyes, “How so?”
“Because, I commit those acts in your name and in the name of your kin,”
“I, struggle to understand how that, makes it any different,”
“It does, Ishtar, it does. It makes all the difference. Lesser men like Wrath and Malice might accept this lowblood on the throne. But, I never will. The woman could barely manage her duties as a custodian, and suddenly, every fucker expects her to handle the burden of a Regency!” Agony’s crimson eyes burned brightly with rage and deep buried offense.
Ishtar sighed, shaking her head, she responded, “That does not answer, my question, Agony. I could seldom care for this regent. I, however, care much about your thoughts,”
“It is different, because I swore allegiance to you and your blood. It is different, because I and the Cardinals are, forever, your sworn servants. Even, in this war that rages among the stars, we remain loyal to you and your blood. I have committed much viler acts at the behest of your descendants. Acts, that I cannot describe, lest you be revolted at the very sight of my face. But, it was all acceptable, for it was in the service of your bloodline. They do not weigh on my soul, but these sins, that I commit under this lowblood’s rule? They do and always will,” With his rambling ceasing, Agony turned his face away from her, finding the sight of the darkness outside the window, more acceptable and comforting.
Ishtar was conflicted. Time had certainly taken its toll on her poor servant. She wanted to provide him comfort, yet she could not. How benevolent, a master was she; failing to provide comfort to her most loyal of all servants.
She desperately, wished to provide him comfort. Yet, her mind told her that he does not wish for it. Her attempts at comfort, will do naught but make a mockery of his loyalty and devotion. Nevertheless, the thought did little to comfort her consciousness.
Agony sighed, likely having read her mind; she meant it, quite literally. He spoke, “Do not, trouble yourself over my words. They mean little in the grand scheme of things, and mean even less, in the matter of this communion,”
Ishtar nodded with a deep exhale and asked, “Yes, yes, you are right. I.. I wish to know whether my forces in the east will be overrun. Will my dynasty endure?”
Agony laughed, “Did you, not listen to a word that I just said? I, already informed you of the glory of your bloodline,”
“My bloodline and the bloodlines of my sister's are one and the same, Agony. In spite of our differences, it is the one thing that is common between us all. Thus, a woman such as I, can never be too sure,”
Agony hummed, “Your bloodline will endure, as long as you are willing to unmask yourself. It will endure, if you are able to save your mate, lover, husband or whatever you call him,”
“Save him?! Is, he in danger?!” Ishtar questioned in a voice filled with panic. She could not lose him. Without him, life itself would be unacceptable.
“Not yet, but soon, he will be. Find and stop him, Ishtar. He is soon, about to find himself in danger, the likes of which none can imagine. Find him, Ishtar. Find him before the hunter. Find him and do so with utmost haste, or he shall forever be lost to you,”
Before Ishtar, could speak. Agony placed his hand over her forehead and squeezed. With it, Ishtar's world went blank and she was drowning, once more.