Finished stories that feature the characters from the show, but there are no aliens. All fics completed on the main AU without Aliens board will eventually be moved here.
Title: Oh My Goddess!
Author: me
Rating: MATURE to ADULT for violence and sexual situations.
Category: An AU version of a past life fic.
Disclaimer: Roswell isn't mine (Big surprise)
AN: HA-HA, it is finally complete!!!! Title adapted from the anime series Ah! My Goddess. Banner by talena. Thanks Jen!
Oh My Goddess!
Prologue
Antar was possessed of two suns, three moons, and deities much as Earth had centuries ago. In fact, it is believed that the Greek and Roman gods and goddesses were based from those of Antarian life, which were related to them by the first Antarian missionaries. However, the humans of Earth had a god to pray to for every occasion, whereas on Antar people either went to the Goddess or the War God, depending on the situation.
The Goddess was renowned for her kindness and loving nature. It was she who was called upon for help in love or childbirth. But she was also called on for the raw passions; for lust and revenge, and she fulfilled these duties as she did the gentle ones, with every ounce of power she could call her own.
And so, she was both feared and revered.
She was known only as the Goddess to her people. The only other being she entrusted with her true name was her fellow deity, who coveted this gift, for he loved the Goddess beyond reason, and he, in turn, shared his. Although the War God, whose title and form fit function, also allowed his favorite and most faithful follower to call him by his forename.
One day, it came to pass that the Goddess gave her name, and her heart, to a mortal, and it was the latter that caused the destruction of Antar.
Last edited by blake on Tue Aug 26, 2003 9:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The new King of Antar, and former War Lord, dismounted his beast and looked around the small clearing apprehensively. It was not a place for him, with all his black leather and weapons. This place was like a dream, representing something he had never dared to hope for.
The pond in the center was calm, no touch of wind to cause ripples, no inhabitants to disturb the serenity from below. This was where the Goddess bathed, where she came to grant the worthiest of requests. A person could not find this copse without the purest of heart, all others had to worship at her temples.
He could not believe he had been able to find it. He was a soldier, a warrior. He was bathed in blood, his conscience steeped with it, so many lives had been lost at his hands. Both young and old, innocent and guilty. He was not worthy of this place, of the honor that had been done to him.
He unbuckled his sword and knife sheaths, feeling naked without the protection of the metal, but the Goddess allowed no instruments of death on her holy ground. Placing the weapons on the ground beside the black beast he had rode here, he stepped hesitantly into the glade.
Nothing happened.
No divine being popped up, no bush stirred, no bird called. The only sounds made in that clearing was the beast’s brays and his own footsteps on the thick grass beneath his feet. Confidence slowly returned to him and he padded more quickly, his scouting knowledge coming back to him as he approached the edge of the pond.
His senses were on full alert, his mind honed on his goal, hand unconsciously hovering over the spot where his sword normally hung. It was second nature to him, an instinct hammered into him by the War God himself. It didn’t matter that his weapon was gone. All that mattered was that he was prepared for an attack, prepared to kill with his bare hands if necessary.
He had done it before.
But no attack came, and he felt a wry grin shape his lips. As if the Goddess would allow violence here, of all places. He shook his dark head and knelt beside the water’s bank. He dipped one hand into the silvery-blue liquid and then lifted it, pressing the warm wetness to first his forehead, then his lips, and ended with the anointed hand resting in a fist across his chest, covering his heart.
It was a ritual position, one that signified the unity of heart, mind, and voice in this one thing. This one prayer he sent up to the benevolent one. He had never come to the Goddess before. His prayers went to his War God.
But this…This was something the War God would not understand. This was not battle, it was not about physical prowess. This was about duty to his throne. This was about a girl. About marriage. This was a matter of the heart, and the Goddess was the only one wise enough to help him.
“Why have you called to me, little warrior?”
He spun, hand immediately going for the sword that no longer hung at his waist, and when it wasn’t there, he came up in a fighting stance, hands up, eyes on his adversary. And then he froze.
She was perfect. There was no other way to describe the vision that presented herself to him. She was beautiful, sublime, exquisite, gorgeous, stunning, magnificent…Absolutely perfect.
She was petite, at least a head shorter than himself, her skin was toned a deep bronze, her limbs were slender, breasts small but ripe, he suspected they’d fit perfectly into his hands, her neck was graceful, her hair long and flowing, brown eyes large and hauntingly deep, with kissably full lips…
She was frowning at him. “You would attack me in my own sanctuary, little warrior?” she asked, voice disdainful.
He lowered his hands and bowed once, then knelt at her feet, gazing up at her. “I would never presume to attempt harm upon your person, Goddess. You merely startled me, it was a natural response on my part.”
And he should not have gotten startled, he berated himself, he should have sensed her coming before she had the chance to surprise him. He could always sense the War God when he came to visit his camp, why should she be any different.
But she was. He studied her, his expression kept carefully blank as she subjected him to the same treatment, eyes roaming him detachedly. He could tell she had immense power, more than his God did, and she held it in check marvelously. He’d never known another being to have such control over their emotions and inner attributes.
Finally she nodded, inscrutable face softening with a smile of welcome. “What boon would you ask of me, little warrior? And why could your War God not grant you the request?”
“I did not ask him.”
She blinked rapidly, obviously startled, “Have you fallen from his favor than?”
Now he smiled, “No, this is just not something I could ask of him. He would not understand.”
The Goddess tilted her head to the side, hair slithering to the same side, exposing her smooth neck to his hungry view. He was surprised with himself. He wanted her, and he had never wanted anyone before. It was a distraction he couldn’t afford in battle, and so he suppressed the primal urges and placed his frustration in his fighting.
“Well, if I can do something for you that your mighty War God cannot, I’d love to know what it is,” she told him, sounding amused. She seated herself on a rock near him and pulled a knee up to her face to rest her chin on, giving him her full attention. He gulped, trying to ignore the way her white dress had risen up that golden skin, and finally managed to land his eyes on hers.
He rose, eyes still locked on hers. “I am King Zan of Antar,” he informed her, “And I am to be married.”
“Marriage is a wonderful thing, King Zan,” she said, “Have you come to ask my blessing?”
He was horrified to find himself blushing. “Um, no, not exactly…”
“Then what?” she inquired, leaning forward. There was a mischievous smile on her face that made his heart beat uncontrollable fast. Did she have this effect on all mortal males? It was no wonder she had so many worshippers.
“Ava, my betrothed, is from Amare,” he explained, “And I’m certain the Goddess knows how marriages are conducted on Amare.”
Her smile grew. “Indeed, King Zan, Amare is like my second home. They appreciate the Art of Love, it is very comforting to be called there after I hear the pleas of war-torn victims day after day here.” Her large eyes darkened, and Zan felt pain such as he had never known. He had probably sent some of those victims fleeing to her temples.
“Then the Goddess knows that Ava will be well educated on how to please her husband. Her father informed my mother that she excelled in all her lessons.” He watched her as she listened to him. It was obvious she did not understand why he had come to her.
“And should that not please you King Zan, to have a wife well-versed in the Bedroom Arts? I realize she won’t be a virgin, but women on Amare are never chaste for long. It’s frowned upon.” She was frowning now, he noticed, and it made her nose crinkle in the most adorable way…
“I don’t care about that,” he responded, waving away that theory, “It’s just…” And here comes the embarrassing part. “She’ll know what to do, and I… I won’t.”
Her pretty mouth dropped open, and he steeled himself for her laughter, positive it would be as if she plunged a knife in his heart. “What do you mean, you won’t? I know for a fact the War God has as many women as he wishes in his camp at any one time-”
“Be that as it may,” Zan interrupted, and he apologized with his eyes for the slight, “I have never indulged in such antics. I felt it interfered with my concentration, and refrained from participating.”
“And Krig allowed it?” she asked, sounding incredulous.
Zan’s jaw dropped in his own incredulity. She had said the War God’s name in front of a mortal. It did not matter if Krig had confided it to him as his favored warrior, it only mattered that she had said it without knowing if he had known.
“Oh, posh!” she exclaimed, waving one slender hand at him, “I know who you are King Zan, Krig’s favorite War Lord. He’s talked about you on several occasions, I never paid attention, but perhaps I should have. In any case, I am well aware he privileged you with his exalted name.” She sounded a bit sarcastic at that last part, and he frowned.
“It is a great honor-” he broke off, “How did you know what I was thinking?”
She gave snort of laughter. “I’ve been alive since time began. I know a mortal’s thoughts as I know my own. Besides, you have very expressive eyes.”
Zan carefully schooled his expression to show nothing, he cursed inwardly that he had lost that tight grip of control he normally held so easily.
“And there you go,” she sighed, “Trying to be a good little warrior and wall up your emotions. You’re very good, I’ll give you that, you can even mask your eyes if you think about it, but I suggest you stop. I won’t be helping you if you’re not completely honest with me.”
He scowled, but let the façade dissolve. It was odd. The pretense of fearlessness, of lack of emotion, was so much a part of him he could keep it up as effortlessly as he breathed. Except in this place. With her.
“Now then.” She stood and walked around him as if inspecting a beast up for auction. “What exactly is it you want from me?”
“I have explained that I know nothing of the bedroom and love,” he said, “I would like to learn before my wedding night so that I will not disappoint Ava and embarrass myself.”
“Ah-ha,” she said thoughtfully, “And why could you not ask this of Krig? He has the knowledge you seek as well, and you are much closer to him than you are to me.”
Again, he could feel heat flush his cheeks. “Krig treats his women as whores. That is not how a husband treats a wife. He does not have the knowledge I need.” He turned to her and caught her arms, staring down into her dark eyes. “You do.”
She sucked in a breath and stiffened, but he did not release her. He knew it was taboo to touch the Goddess if she did not desire it, but he needed her to understand he was serious. They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity, and Zan became increasingly aware of how smooth her skin was beneath his hand, of how deep her eyes were, of how inviting her lips seemed.
“Please,” he whispered.
Finally she gave a slight nod. “Very well,” she relented, and suddenly the world spun off its axis.
When it was righted again he was staring at a shimmering wall. “Where are we?” he asked, looking down to her, but she wasn’t there. “Goddess?!” he exclaimed, alarmed, and spun around, “Goddess, where…” The shout died in his throat as his jaw dropped.
Before him was a giant, four-poster bed, in which lounged the naked Goddess. She raised one sculpted brow, “You said you wanted to learn.”
He shifted from foot to foot, blushing deeply, unable to take his eyes from her nude form. He had been right, she was perfect. “I, um…I thought, you would just, um…Implant everything in my head, or something…”
Rich laughter followed his suggestion, and sent a ripple of desire coursing through his body, nearly causing him to gasp from the intensity of it.
“What fun would that be?”
!
He was fighting his attraction for her. She could see that reflected in his expressive eyes. It wouldn’t work. No man could resist her. She was every man’s dream woman all rolled into one perfect being.
Not that she had ever used that ability to her advantage. The Goddess, whose given name was Déesse, had never taken on a mortal lover. It had always, only been Krig that she allowed in her sacred bed.
And now there was him. King Zan of Antar. War Lord of the Antarian Army. Betrothed to Princess Ava of Amare.
He was beautiful. The most beautiful man she had ever seen on any of the five planets.
She supposed that was why she was doing this. That he was just so surprisingly handsome, she couldn’t let him get away without testing him out.
But he was a warrior. One of Krig’s loyal worshippers. He had been born amidst chaos, forged in the heat of battle, and yet, his misdeeds were tempered by his soul. His pure, shining soul. He was a good man. Just, faithful, strong.
He belonged to her. His heart and soul did, even if his mind belonged to Krig and the War God’s love of violence. And with this act, him coming to her, asking her help, he had bonded his body to her as well.
Zan was standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed, trying to avert his eyes from her open body without success. She gave him an inviting smile and drew closer to him. “Aren’t you going to come to bed?” she inquired.
“Um…I-I don’t know if this is such a…a good idea,” he stuttered.
“So you didn’t really want my help at all? You just decided to waste my precious time?” she demanded, smirking inwardly.
His eyes widened in alarm, “No!” he cried, “No, I didn’t mean to waste your time, Goddess, it’s just…This…” he gestured between the two of them, eyes raking down her body, “Is a little unorthodox, don’t you think?”
“Are you saying you don’t want me as a lover?” She narrowed her eyes at him, pleased when she saw him start to panic.
“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying at all,” he protested, “You are the,” he swallowed hard, “The most amazing woman I’ve ever seen, and I’m honored, really, that you chose me, but…I said before, I really don’t know what I’m doing, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint you more than I wouldn’t want to disappoint Ava.” He gave her a hopeful smile and edged a little away.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t disappoint me, Zan,” she purred, grabbing his shirt and tugging him back to her. “Now, the first rule of love-making,” she murmured, pressing a light, teasing kiss to the corner of his lush mouth, “Is that you can’t be wearing clothes.”
She pulled the shirt from his chest and leaned into him, her breasts rubbing against his bare chest. He gasped, and she smiled against his warm skin, and then kissed him again. Her mouth moved down, licking across his chest, swirling her tongue around his nipples. She could feel his muscles bunch under her hands as she ran them up and down his back, nails scraping lightly.
He drew in another shuddering breath and she lifted her head, looking into his eyes. They had turned black with desire, his tongue darted out to taste his lips where she had last kissed him, and a low sound was made in the back of his throat. A smile curved her lips.
She had him.
She rose, standing on her bed, feet sinking into the soft mattress, and ran her hands through his hair, bringing his head to her breast. She could feel his eyelashes fluttering against her skin as he closed his eyes and gave in.
His first kiss was tentative, a light brush against her collarbone. He lifted his head and looked at her, eyes asking if he was doing this right. She smiled, she couldn’t help it, he looked so endearing. He smiled back at her, slow and beautiful, and took her lips with his own.
She sighed in contentment as his tongue delved into the recesses of her mouth. She clung to him as he grew bolder in his advances, and climbed onto her bed to join her. Zan moved forward, flattening her beneath him as he did so, so that they were laying in the standard position. His mouth was working unfettered at her right breast, his hands were wreaking havoc on her senses as he moved them over her body.
Déesse gave a low moan of frustration, her small hands running over the tight leather pants that molded so complimentary to his fit body, and made them disappear.
Zan gasped and took his mouth from her, staring down into her eyes, breathing heavily. “What do I do?” he asked, voice hoarse with the rage of desire.
A low laugh escaped her, one that caused the King to tense up, his body jerking toward her involuntarily. “You know what to do,” she whispered into his ear, sucking on his lobe, teeth scraping so that he shuddered, “Let go of that control Zan, let your passions rule you for once.”
He shook his head, fighting to hang on, but it was a lost battle, she had won the moment he had laid eyes on her. He cried out wildly and plunged recklessly into her body, tears in his eyes. Déesse held onto him as he thrust in and out of her, loving the feel of him. She held him, and whispered soothingly to him, urging him on to completion.
She felt her own release come upon her. It was a gift of hers to have an orgasm whether or not her partner had triggered it, as Zan could not, because he had no idea how. And then he followed her into that state of bliss, his body going rigid above hers, and then collapsing.
Moments later, he moved off of her, laying slightly to the side and staring down at her with awe. One of his large hands reached out and grasped a lock of her hair, twirling it around his fingers as if he wasn’t sure if she was real.
Their eyes met, and he blushed. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, voice hardly more than a whisper.
“No,” she whispered back, surprised at the frailty in his tone.
“Was…” he blushed again, deeper this time, “Did you feel like I did? Did you feel that..."
She nodded, another laugh escaping her throat. “And I shall teach you to provide your bride with the same delights, little King.” She smiled at him, “You must remember that love-making is not like war. You do not need to plunder and pillage to get what you want, you need only give, as well as take, and it shall be offered to you on a silver platter.”
A half-smile claimed his lips, making his eyes twinkle with amber stars. “Silver?” he repeated, “I’m royalty, it’ll have to be a golden platter. Anything else is unacceptable.” They both laughed, and she was surprised at her comfort with this mortal King, this warrior.
“Golden then,” she agreed.
His smile was still in place, but his eyes had sobered when he bent his head to place a chaste kiss upon her lips. “And when may I return for my next lesson, Goddess?” he inquired softly.
She grew solemn, suddenly aware that this interlude was coming to an end. “When I come for you, King Zan, when I come for you.” And with that being said, she sent him away, fully clothed, to wake in his own bed in his palace.
She remained in her bed, curled up, arms around a pillow that still carried his scent, and began thinking of what to teach him during their next tryst, for it would be coming very, very soon. She would not wait too long before he was in her bed again.
The approaching footsteps of her priestesses signaled to her that her day was beginning. No doubt victims of Krig’s thoughtless wars again. The Goddess wondered what her godly counterpart would say if he knew she had taken on a mortal lover. And not just any mortal, but Zan, his favorite War Lord.
She wouldn’t tell him. He didn’t need to know. Who she was involved with ceased to be his business once he began this current feud. Besides, she knew his response well. If he didn’t destroy Zan out of jealousy, he’d warn her of the dangers of what she was considering, of what she was getting into.
But she couldn’t help it.
She wanted to know what it would sound like if Zan cried out her name, her real name, when he found his release in her arms, and in her body.
Déesse relaxed against the argillaceous wall of the scented bath, letting her priestesses attend to her. The triplets had been left on the temple’s offering altar sixteen years ago, and she had raised them herself.
Viente, Diener, and Tjener all had the same blonde hair, green eyes, bright smiles, and love for their Goddess, their heart’s mother. They served as her priestesses, calling her attention to matters of the general populace even when she had not been specifically called for, and taking care of small details that the Goddess should not have to deal with. Since their coming, they had made Déesse’s eternal life much easier.
Right now, for example, Viente was drying and brushing her long nut brown hair, Tjener was laying out a wind-spun robe to wear after she bathed, and Diener was giving her a manicure. She was feeling extraordinarily pampered after a long day of work. The only thing that would have made it better was knowing Zan would be waiting in her bed when she was finished.
A dreamy smile spread across Déesse’s face at the thought of her lover. His lessons had been coming along extremely well, and she made sure he got in plenty of practice, but she could not bring him to her now.
She had the power to, of course, but it would not be a wise course of action, as he was in the middle of a meeting with the Amarian delegation, preparing for his wedding to their Princess Ava, which was to take place at the end of the sevenday on Elskere, lover’s night. The Goddess’ own holy day.
The Goddess sighed. She was jealous for the first time in her long, long life. She knew much of Ava, who was beautiful, as the Princess paid homage to the Goddess’ Art often and with great skill. But Deesse had disliked her greatly since learning of her betrothal to Zan.
It was not hard to admit that she had fallen in love with the mortal King, but it was hard not to announce their liasion to the five planets and Krig. She did not want to share him. But she could not be selfish. He was mortal, and a King. She was immortal, and the Goddess. They did not belong together.
As if to reinforce that point, a man suddenly appeared at the foor of the tub in a burst of flame and ring of metal.
The priestesses shrieked and ran from the room. Déesse frowned up at the leering War God. “I do not remember inviting you into my presence, Krig,” she said severely.
His grin grew larger, and he circled the tub, hand on his sword, eyes raking intrusively upon her bubble concealed body. “Come now, Déesse, we both know I have no need of an invitation to visit you.”
She gave a bored sigh and rose from the water, stretching languidly. Fully aware of Krig’s mesmerized stare as she slipped the gossamer robe onto her lithe form. “What do you want Krig?”
“What I always want,” he murmured, moving behind her to clasp her to his body. She stood, stiff in his arms, aware of the difference between his compact form and Zan’s lean strength. “You,” he whispered in her ear, and she wanted to laugh at his attempt to seduce her.
She extricated herself from his unwanted embrace easily and gave him a contemptous sneer, “Well, I hate to disappoint the almighty War God, but I do not want you.”
Déesse did not bother to hear his reply, she simply glided away from him toward her bedroom. After a moment, he followed, blue eyes glowing with anger and male pride. “It’s been a long time, Déesse, you must have some desire of my companionship.”
He sounded so sure of himself… “No, I have no desire for you Krig.”
Outrage darkened his handsome face, “Dée-“
“Do I need remind you why you were banished from my bed in the first place?” she interrupted icily, “It was because you would not cease enacting wars, making my people suffer!” she shouted.
Krig gave her a wheedling grin, “We’re at a truce right now,” he appeased.
Disdain colored her voice, “Oh, a truce? Isn’t that so much better? A small reprieve for people to begin to build their lives again before you and your armies destroy it all again! You destroy their hope, Krig, does that mean nothing to you?”
“They’re peasants Déesse, mortal peasants.”
She said nothing for a long period of time, and it was obvious to her that he believed he had won this battle of wits, but she was just lying in wait to dispense with her last bit of news.
“Let me take you to bed, Déesse,” he urged, “It will relax you.”
“I am already relaxed, Krig, and am likely to be for some time.” She sent him a lazy glace from beneath her lashes. “My lover made quite sure of that just last night.”
The silence was profound.
“Do not toy with me, Déesse,” he warned, voice tense.
Her eyebrows raised in surprise at his strained tone. “I assure you, Krig, I am not jesting.”
His jaw clenched and unclenched several times before he finally managed to grit out another sentence. “Do you honestly mean to tell me that you have taken a lover? You have allowed a mortal man in your bed?”
“Yes,” she breathed, “Yes, I have.”
“I demand you stop seeing him at once!” Krig ordered imperiously.
Déesse’s mouth dropped open. “Demand I… You have no right to demand anything, War God. I dismissed you!”
“You are my lover, and I do not share.”
She snorted at his hypocrisy. “How many mortal women have you taken since Antar’s formation?”
“That has nothing to do with this.”
“It is the same situation,” she explained, exasperated. His face was set, it was obvious he was going to spout off more nonsense in a moment, and she chose to forestall hearing it. He was giving her a headache. “I will not stop seeing him,” she informed Krig calmly. She drew herself up and looked her former lover straight in the eye. “I love him.”
If possible, Krig’s expression darkened even more, and contained violence gave a cruel cast to his elegant features. “Tell me who he is.”
She trembled, “No.”
He let loose a roar of pure fury and disappeared with a clap of thunder, leaving the reek of burnt flesh and blood in his wake. His last words lingered threateningly in the air.
“I will find him, Déesse, and when I do, I will destroy him and all he holds dear.”
!
Zan sighed heavily and flung himself onto his bed. This wedding was just about the most annoying thing he’d ever had to put up with. The Amarian delegation had had to check out every inch of the palace and his chambers to see if it would meet with their Princess’ approval once she arrived in five days.
He sighed again. Five days until he would be stuck with a woman he’d never met for a lifetime. Before, the alliance had never seemed like much of a problem, but now… Now he was in love, and the thought of being with another woman repulsed him.
And thinking of his Goddess. He opened his mouth to call her, for he was in desperate need of her soft eyes, gentle touch, and warm body, but then he felt the other presence and sat upright, reaching for the knife under his pillow.
He relaxed an instant later and stared in confusion at the War God, who was wearing a hole in the King’s chamber carpet. “My lord Krig?” Zan inquired softly. Krig gave him a quick glance and went back to pacing, muttering to himself. “Krig, what is the matter? Has Khivar begun to march again?” he demanded.
The War God swore and threw up his hands, finally facing the King, who had hopped off the bed and was scrambling for his breastplate, arm braces, and sword scabbard. “No, no, it’s nothing so exciting.”
Zan stopped and unbelted his scabbard, lying it back onto its place of honor. “Oh, then may I inquire as to what has put you into such a state?”
“The Goddess has taken on a mortal lover,” Krig spat out, glaring daggers out the chamber window at where the soldiers were practicing techniques.
Zan froze, wondering if he should mention the fact that he was the mortal lover, but then decided against it, because Krig did not look happy about the news. “And why has this upset you, my lord?” he asked discreetly, “You have many mortal women in your bed most nights.”
Krig looked back at him, blue eyes shining with an unholy light. “That is exactly the argument she tried to foist off on me, but what both of you fail to realize is that what applies to me is entirely different to what applies to her. Her rules of behavior are entirely opposite my own. She is the Goddess, a being of love and goodness, she must remain chaste if I am not with her.”
He felt his eyebrows raise in disbelief, “The Goddess is also known to rule over the darker passions, my lord.”
“But she does not participate in them!” Krig shouted, “She is mine, she is not to be touched by the unworthy hands of a mortal!”
“Yours?’ Zan repeated, testing out the thought of his Goddess with Krig. The picture was as distasteful to him as the idea of he and Ava’s wedding night had beome.
“Hmm.” Krig moved, sitting on a chair and staring broodingly at the floor. “That’s right, it was before your time,” he said, “She and I have been lovers since eternity began Zan, but she has a rather ridiculous habit of throwing me out of her bed whenever I stir up another war.” He chuckled reminiscently, making Zan grit his teeth. “She doesn’t believe in violence, especially not for fun, but she always takes me back. She misses me, what I can offer her…”
“What do you offer her?” he demanded, and Krig glanced at him sharply, surprised by the venom in his tone.
“A lover, Zan. I am her lover, I always have been, and she has never taken another.”
“Until now,” the king prompted.
“Yes,” Krig hissed, “Until now. And suddenly it is as if there was nothing between us.” His eyes glazed over, and his lip curled. “She stood there, naked, taunting me, while boasting of her new paramour’s prowess.”
Zan’s fists clenched, not liking the thought of Krig seeing the Goddess nude, however irrational it was if they had been lovers since before Zan was born. Hellfires, since before his great-great-great grandfather had been born!
And then a feeling a pleasure swept through him at the mention that he had pleased her. He had rather thought his lessons were coming along nicely, she always seemed exceedingly satisfied with him when the lay together afterwards, but he never knew for sure what she thought about his progress.
“Perhaps you should let her have her lover,” Zan suggested, hoping he didn’t sound to eager, “After all, he is mortal, and eventually he’ll grow old and die…”
“And then she’ll turn to me again,” Krig finished for him, “No. She’s in love with the poor fool, whoever he is, and she’ll pine for him, I know she will.”
She loves me???
“What will you do, then?” he queried.
“Find the bastard,” an evil smile spread across his face, “And then I’ll kill him.”
Zan gulped, “Somehow, I don’t think the Goddess will look upon you favorably if you kill her lover.”
“Nonsense, when I kill the pest, she’ll realize I’m the stronger man. The better man, and she’ll come begging back.” The king opened his mouth to protest, but the War God rose, smiling ahppily now. “Thank you, Zan, I knew you’d help me work out this little situation.”
“Um, I didn-“ But he was gone, and Zan was alone again. Sighing heavily once more, Zan sat on his bed, thoughts racing, so he did the only thing he could think of. He called to her.
“Goddess…”
!
His husky voice reached her ears and soothed her soul. The Goddess smiled and transported herself to her lover, glad the delegation had finally left and they could be together once more. “You called for me, my King?” she inquired teasingly.
Zan spun around, and she noted his surprise to see her on the bed with him, and then she saw the other emotions that were darkening his beautiful eyes. There was apprehension in them, and anger, and confusion.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded, sitting up and putting her arms around him. She realized with distress that he stiffened in her embrace. “Zan?”
He extricated himself from her encircling arms and stood, watching her, his expression unreadable, even for her. “I had a visitor today.”
Déesse blinked, “The Amarians, I know.” She was in a quandary as to why that would make him this distant from her. Oh! What if Ava had come early and he had fallen in love with her at first sight. Oh, she would not be able to bear such a thing…
“Not them,” Zan said, waving a hand in dismissal, a grimace on his face at the remembrance, and Déesse felt a little better, though now she had not the faintest idea what was causing him to be upset. “Krig.”
“Oh,” she said, “What did he want?”
Her lover gave a wry smile, “He was very angry. Something about you taking on a mortal lover and now he was making it his mission in life to find and destroy said lover, and he wasn’t being very rational, but I have a feeling I’m a dead man walking.”
“Oh no,” she breathed, “You didn’t tell him it was you, did you?”
His eyebrow raised and he stared at her in disbelief, “I wouldn’t be here talking to you if he had found out I was your ‘inferior’ mortal lover,” he informed her.
Déesse winced at his sarcastic tone, “He called you inferior?”
“Unworthy.” Zan snorted and shook his head, sitting back down on the bed, “I don’t know what to do about it.”
She cautiously moved near him, happy when he didn’t move away, and then stroked his soft, dark hair off his forehead. “Krig won’t kill you, Zan,” she told him mildly.
Again, he snorted, “He will when he finds out.”
“No,” she denied firmly, “You’re his favorite, his War Lord, he won’t harm you.”
“Goddess,” Zan said, turning to look at her, and she read the disbelief in his expression. He cupped her jaw, tilting her head upwards to meet his eyes, “You are Krig’s favorite. I am nothing to him, merely a key player at this moment in time. But there will be other wars, other War Lords. There is only ever going to be one of you."
“No,” she protested, “Krig-”
But Zan cut her off, “You don’t understand!” he burst out, moving away from her once more, “You can’t understand, you can never…” he took a deep breath, “You know men’s hearts, Goddess, but you do not comprehend war or what is behind it, why it is continually occurring…You don’t understand Krig. The only things that matter to him are war and you.”
They stared at each other for a long time, and she knew he was right. She didn’t understand Krig, she never had, not since time began. He was driven by something alien to her, some force she shuddered to even think of.
He was also right about the continuous cycle Krig put Antar and all five planets through. Love and war. When he got tired of one he went back to the other, again and again, and again…Krig had no regard for the lives he destroyed for his own pleasure, and Zan was no different from those War Lords in the past.
It was only because she placed him above other mortals in her heart that she felt he was more than they, and that Krig would see that too. Zan understood that, but he also understood Krig, and he knew he was not better than any before him. That only in her eyes was he superior.
“The possibility of death is not what is upsetting you,” she said softly, coming into the realization slowly. He sighed, but she pressed on. “Tell me,” she commanded.
Zan gave a self-deprecating laugh and flopped down on the bed once again. She leaned over him, her silky hair forming a curtain around their faces, and she pleaded with him, eyes earnest, to tell her his plight. She wanted to take whatever it was that was hurting him away.
“I love you.”
She blinked, “I love you, too.”
His face softened and she felt his arms slip around her waist, “I wasn’t sure if you did. Krig said something…”
“What did he say?”
“That although you never took a lover, you always let him come back to your bed.” He pulled her down on top of him, “Will you let him again? After I am too old for you?” He sounded anxious, and she kissed him deeply.
“No,” she assured him, “No, there will never be another.”
“Not even Krig?”
“Not even Krig,” she confirmed, giggling softly.
“But you’re immortal, Goddess,” he reminded her, “And an eternity is a long time to live without a lover.”
“Zan,” she said seriously, “I have never loved before you, and I am not likely to after you.”
He rolled over so that she was pinned beneath him, and ran one sword-callused hand down her cheek in wonderment. “I’m glad.” He blushed, “I know it’s wrong of me, selfish even, to want to keep you to myself even after I’m dead, but…I cannot stand the thought of you with another man, Goddess.”
“Déesse,” she said quietly, her heart in her throat.
“What?” He gave her an adorably puzzled frown.
“My name is Déesse,” she repeated, confiding it for the first time to another being. Krig had been created with the knowledge, and she had never granted it to anyone before, not even the triplets. She prayed that he would accept the gift it was, the power she was giving him over her, over her heart…
His eyes widened, and he leaned down, brushing her lips tenderly with his own, “Thank you, my love,” he whispered, and she knew he was aware of how much trust she was placing in him.
Their kisses grew in intensity, and as the sun went down they made love. Not as Goddess and King, but as Déesse and Zan, a man and a woman, and when he found his release in her body, he uttered her name, her true name, and the sound was sweeter than any she had heard before in her long lifetime.
The only thing that marred this night, when she had finally found real happiness, was the knowledge that this was to be their last lesson…
Zan would wed the Princess Ava of Amare tomorrow evening, and her heart would break…
Zan lay on the far side of the bed, feeling rather disgusted with himself. He turned his head and stared across the wide bed to his wife, sleeping peacefully across the way. Ava’s long blond hair curled over the red pillow, and her white skin seemed nearly translucent against the rich, dark color.
She was a beautiful woman, and, were he not in love with someone else, he was quite sure he’d be able to fall in love with her. But he was in love with another woman, and he was sick at the thought of his betrayal towards her. It was eating him up.
“Poor dear,” a sultry voice murmured into his ear, “I think you wore her out.”
Zan twisted, shock written across his features, and gaped at the Goddess’ amused grin. “Déesse!” he exclaimed.
“Ssh,” she scolded, laughing, and kissed him sweetly. Zan, mortified, sent a quick look back at his bride, ashamed that he had nearly transgressed against his lover by speaking her true name in the presence of a mortal. Well, another mortal…
“Sorry,” he muttered, blushing. Then the incongruity of the situation hit him and he sat upright, shielding her from Ava’s view in case the new Queen awoke. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“I was called,” she answered, her smile lessening into a grimace, “Though I admit to coming late…”
“What do you mean?” he asked, whispering. He lay back down, taking her into his arms. Déesse gave him a wistful smile and brushed the locks of black hair gracing his forehead back, and planted a kiss on the smooth skin.
“Ava is an Amarian. I explained to you long ago that Amarian women are brought up knowing the Acts of Love…They are raised in my image, the image of Love, and as such, they pray to me to bless their joinings.” She looked down, and rested her head on his bare chest, listening to his heart beat. “Tonight is Elskere, my night. I should have been very busy, but I ignored it all to watch you jump with your new bride over the fires…And I ignored it when Ava prayed to me to bless your union, but when she offered up homage to me as she found her release…I could not bear it…”
Zan made a low, wretched groan and tightened his arms around her. He could hear the pain in her voice. And pain was something the Goddess was never supposed to feel. “Goddess,” he murmured, kissing the top of her silky head, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?’ she raised her head, and there were tears in her eyes that made his heart ache all the more, “What have you to be sorry for? I trained you for this very night. I expected it…” she ducked her head, “I was just not prepared.”
“I should not have asked your help,” he countered morosely, “Then we would not be in this position.”
“But then we would not have fallen in love,” she reminded him, “And I would not have missed that for the universe, Zan.” They stared at one another in silence, serious, their eyes exchanging vows of forever, and then, much to his relief, a mischevious grin lit her gorgeous eyes.
“What are you thinking?” he inquired, feeling half-frightened, half-excited.
“I was just thinking how much I liked the position we’re in,” she informed him, her tone seductive, and she wiggled against his naked body, allowing her own, windspun clothing to diffuse back into the atmosphere, “I’m liking it very,” and she punctuated the very with a deep, probing kiss, “very much.”
“Dee-“ he breathed, but she cut him off with another kiss, drugging him into a state of hazy consciousness, in which there was only her and him, though a small nagging persisted in his mind. One he couldn't ignore, as hard as he was trying to. “Ava,” he stated, and broke the kiss, glancing fearfully to where the blond still slept, undisturbed.
“She won’t wake up,” Déesse told him blithely, “You needn’t worry.”
He gave her a dubious glare, but she just smiled and moved enticingly against him, allaying all doubts from his mind.
When morning light streamed in through the small gap in the curtains, Zan and Déesse were cuddling together, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears. And then Ava stirred, and his Goddess bid him farewell, with a promising smile as she disappeared into thin air, leaving only the scent of her to linger behind her.
“Good morning, husband,” Ava greeted drowsily, smiling up at him, her blue eyes half covered by drooping eyelids.
“Um…good morning, Ava,” he replied, not meeting her eyes. He felt anxious, and was somewhat relieved by the insistent knocking on the bedchamber door. Zan rose, slipping into his clothes and grabbing a short sword before opening the doors. Rath, his second-in-command, stood there, gasping for breath, he gave a slight nod to Ava, still on the bed, and the looked his King straight in the eye.
The war was already back in action, full tilt. Rath was on the front lines, commanding the Antarian forces in Zan’s stead until the King could acquit the palace and his duties.
He knew what this was about. Why the war had begun again so quickly when the truce was to last for another week. Krig had gotten antsy, angry. He needed something that would take his mind off of the Goddess, something that would bring him pleasure. And the only thing that brought the War God pleasure in an instance like this was a good battle.
Unfortunately, Zan was still stuck in the palace with his new bride and his demanding mother. They wouldn’t let him go. There was always a chance he could fall on that battlefield, die just another faceless soldier… They would not let him take his position as War Lord until the line to the throne was secure. And that meant only one thing, an heir. He had to get Ava pregnant.
But the task was distasteful to him. He hated himself when he touched her, and he couldn’t imagine having a child with her. A child that did not have Déesse’s dark brown hair and bottomless eyes…
And also was the fact that he was desperately needed on the front. Krig was popping between here and there every few hours to check on him, to demand his presence, but Zan’s hands were tied. He could not leave until Ava was with child.
So, his mother and wife had put their blonde heads together and came up with a plan to accomplish both their desires and his wishes.
They would go to the temple of the Goddess and ask a boon.
!
“Mother, please,” he pleaded as they approached the temple, “Do not do this. The Goddess should not be disturbed for such an insignificant petition.”
His mother looked at him, blue eyes shocked, “Insignificant? Zan, you are now King, and as such you must realize that an heir to the throne of Antar is not a matter of insignificance. It is of the utmost importance. Who else would we go to but the Goddess, she who handles these types of entreaties? Your War God?” She said the last with contempt, and Zan hid a wince, putting on his blank soldier face.
“As you wish, Mother.”
Their party stopped, and Zan dismounted his beast and went to assist his mother from hers. Ava popped her head out of the curtained chair as the bearers put her down. “Are we truly here?” she inquired eagerly, hopping nimbly out of her traveling throne. She walked over to her husband and stood beside him, staring at the temple with an expression of rapture. “This is where She resides,” Ava whispered reverently, “The All-Mother…” Her hands fluttered nervously as her husband’s mother motioned for her to join her as they started toward the large, ornate wooden door leading inside the sanctuary.
Zan started to follow, and was alarmed when his mother held up her hand, her expression one of complete shock yet again. “Males are not allowed in the sacred temple, Zan,” she scolded, “That is one of the earliest teachings in our history. Where has your education and sense of propriety gone?”
He schooled himself not to blush. He was used to entering the temple without resistance, indeed, the Goddess normally transported him there herself, and he was on familiar grounds with her adopted daughters. It was stupid to have nearly given himself away in such a manner, and the only excuse he could give was that he had not seen Déesse in days and he could feel her sweet, soothing presence calling to him from within the temple walls.
“Forgive me, Mother, I was not thinking,” he finally said.
She exchanged a glance with Ava and then gave him an indulging smile. “You must forgive me also, my son, I realize this is delicate and emotional thing to ask, and you wish to support your wife through it, but you must remember that the Goddess is our All-mother, the giver of life. She will treat us with welcome and hear our plea with kindness and decide, in her infinite wisdom, what is to be done.” And then she turned her back on her son and took her new daughter’s arm and they walked into the temple.
Zan waited outside, nervous, his posture rigid, ignoring the guards and chair-bearers milling about. His connection to his lover felt muted, as if she had sensed him and did not want him to read her. It made him even more anxious.
!
The Goddess did not extend her head to greet her royal guests. She merely sat, straight-backed on her throne upon the dais, her triplet priestesses sitting at her feet on silk cushions, and watched them approach, her beautiful face set in a detached expression.
They knelt before her in supplication. “What gifts have you brought?” Her priestesses spoke in unison. Both queens looked up in surprise, Ava glancing to Zan’s mother for guidance.
“We have brought no gifts,” the older woman said, puzzled, “Goddess, I did not know you required such things.”
Déesse did not speak, but she gazed evenly at the Queen Mother. The priestesses stood and addressed the pilgrims before her as one. “She does not require gifts, mortal, but you are royal, and you have come seeking Her goodwill. Would you not bring favors to another ruler of a planet in the alliance, if you were asking something of them?”
She blinked blue eyes, blushing and confused, and Déesse took a perverse pleasure in it. She knew what they were here to ask, and it made her ill. “Tjener, Diener, Viente, leave us.” They turned to her, bowed low, and then walked from the room in a single file line, shutting the receiving chamber door with a loud boom that made her visitors jump. “Forgive my priestesses, they do not like when I am slighted.”
“We meant no slight, Goddess,” Ava said, stepping forward, her face shining with sincerity and adoration.
It made Déesse heartsick. Ava had always been a devoted follower of the Ways of Love, she prayed to the Goddess every morning and every night, and Déesse had loved her for it once. Once when it was not Zan’s name that graced the greater part of Ava’s prayers to her Goddess.
She waved a hand airily, dismissing the subject, and went straight to the point. “What would you have of me?”
Zan’s mother had regained her composure and took over. “As I am sure the Goddess is already aware, the war has begun again-“
“What have wars to do with me?” she interrupted. She was not going to make this easy on them.
Alarm spread across the woman’s face, “Nothing, Goddess, I had not meant to imply…That is…” she trailed off.
“The war is not the problem, my Goddess,” Ava stepped in, “It is what the war means.”
“And what does this war mean, Princess?” Déesse delibrately belittled the girl by not addressing her by her new title as Queen of Antar. She knew it was petty, and she should be above pettiness, but she didn’t feel like being charitable today.
“It means that my husband, King Zan, must go to the front lines to command the Antarian forces.”
“And?” She raised an eyebrow, semi-pleased that she had managed not to flinch at Ava’s wording, though it had stung.
“And he may die in battle!” she exclaimed passionately.
She felt herself pale and bent her head so that her hair acted as a curtain for her expression, now that she was unable to control it. Fear struck her heart like an icy knife. It was true. She had not thought…Had not made herself face what the war would mean. She could lose Zan…
And it would be her fault too, if he died out there, alone… Krig had done this in his anger with her and her lover. Oh, sweet Creation, what if he discovered that Zan was her lover? He would surely cause him harm… What could she do? What…
“Goddess?”
The soft inquiry made her tense, and she looked back up, blank mask on, “Continue.”
“Please, Goddess, would you give us your favor and inable my husband and I to bless all of Antar with an heir?”
And there it was, the final straw. She met their eyes, first Zan’s mother, and then Ava’s, one of her faithful… “No.”
The hope in Ava’s lovely face died, and her jaw fell open in stupefaction. The queen mother also gaped, her astonishment as great as the princess’ own. “What?” she gasped.
“No,” she repeated firmly.
“Why not?” Ava demanded, trembling. Déesse saw the sheen of tears in her crystal blue eyes.
“You will not have a child in your union, Ava.”
She frowned, confused, and shook her head, curls bouncing. “I do not understand. Am I barren?” She looked desperate, eyes lost, searching for guidance.
She felt her forbidding expression lighten, ashamed of herself for causing Ava such a fear as infertility. “I meant that you would never bear your husband’s child, Princess of Amare.”
“She is Queen of Antar now,” spoke the former queen, a fine rage burning in her eyes, “And are you trying to imply that Zan is not capable of-“
“No.” The Goddess held up one hand, “I am saying that I will not bless a union that is not made out of love with a child. It is unfair to that child.”
“So you would deny Antar its next King?” the older woman demanded, “You would deny our family our throne?!”
Déesse blinked, suddenly feeling tired. She gave a shrug, “Why should it matter to me who is on the throne, be it Zan or his son, or Khivar? I am the Goddess, and I will be for all eternity. Mortal affairs hold no interest to me unless I wish them to, and this… This does not require my attention.”
“But-“
“I have spoken. Now be gone from this place.” And she vanished, transporting herself to her room, where she lay on her bed, the place Zan had made love to her so many times, and she cried.
!
His lover’s anguish was tearing at his heart, and he no longer cared what he must look like to the other men, pacing back and forth in front of the temple like a beast with a fire on its tail. What had been done? What had been said? He had to go to her, she needed him…
The temple doors opened and his mother came out, arm around Ava, who was bawling, their pace was what could only be described as absolute haste. “Mother,” he called as she approched, practically running, “What happened?”
She did not answer right away, just escorted Ava to the chair and ordered the bearers to start forward immediately, and then to her beast, which Zan helped her mount. He was going to open his mouth to ask again, but she looked down at him, face white. “She said no, Zan. I cannot believe it, but she said no.” She shook her greying blonde head, “She has doomed us…Zan! Where are you going?”
He had left her half-way through her tirade, heading at a rapid run back to the temple and was in as his mother struggled to dismount from her beast.
Zan knew the route to the Goddess’ bedchamber by heart, and was nearly at her door when one of the triplets suddenly appeared before him. “Viente?” he queried, impatient.
She held out her arm, touching his chest, and shook her head. “You may not enter, your Majesty, She does not wish to see any one.”
And Zan felt his heart fall.
!
“The Goddess has banished you from the temple, your highness.”
She stared at the priestess. “You don’t understand, my son came in here. My son, he is not allowed on Her holy ground.” She could not believe Zan would be so rude. She knew that the Goddess’ refusal was a hard blow, but he could not disregard traditional rules in such a fashion, it would merely set the Goddess’ mind that she was correct in her decision to deny them an heir.
The priestess looked puzzled, “King Zan is the Goddess’ consort, he is allowed in the temple whenever he wishes, and he is free to come and go as he pleases.”
Goddess’ consort. Zan was the Goddess’ lover. Her son… No wonder She would not grace Zan’s union to Ava with a child… She was jealous…
“But you are not, your highness, please leave.”
And the priestess gently shoved the former queen of Antar out of the temple and shut the door firmly in the astounded woman’s face.
!
“Viente, please, I must see her,” he pleaded.
She shook her head, “She needs to be alone, King Zan, She is hurting.”
“That is why I must be there,” he said, “She refused the request, that is fine, but it has upset her. I can feel it, and I can hardly bear her pain. I must at least try to ease her suffering!” He looked to the door behind the priestess, the barrier keeping him from his love.
“Do you not understand?” Viente asked, brow furrowed, “You have caused her this torment, Zan. Your presence would not ease it.”
“I?” he repeated, stunned. What had he done?
“You have caused her to fall in love with you.”
“Why would that hurt her?” he demanded.
“Because She is a woman, Zan, for all that She is an eternal and superior one. And She wants what all women want when they fall in love with a worthy man,” Viente told him quietly.
“And what is that?” he inquired, equally quiet.
“To wed him and bear his children,” she replied, “And the Goddess can do neither, for you are already bound to another woman, and She cannot have a child by a mortal man." His eyes widened at this new revelation, and Viente looked at him in disbelief. “You should know by now that the gods cannot procreate with mortals. If they could, the War God would have populated an entire planet a millenia ago…”
“I have to see her,” he interjected, moving around her, ignoring her protests. He opened the door and stared at the tableau before him, his heart breaking yet again. Déesse’s head was buried in her pillow, her long dark hair draped over the cream colored material, her nude body covered in intimate places by wisps of silken sheets, and her smooth shoulders were shaking with her sobs.
He shut the door and walked over to her. Tenderly he ran his hand over one shoulder, “Déesse…”
She flinched and looked up at him, what he could see of her eyes through the locks of hair were bloodshot. “Go away, Zan,” she whispered, voice broken, and she moved away from him.
The hurt moved into his soul, and he stared at her, thinking that she was the saddest, most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “Déesse, please, I-“
“No,” she interrupted, not looking at him. She was seated on the other side of the bed, nearly falling off, and he watched the curve of her back as she tried to curl into herself. “Just go, Zan, I need to be alone.”
He shook his head, even though she wasn’t looking, and moved further onto the bed towards her. “You need someone here,” he started, reaching out to take her in his arms, to comfort her, “You need-“
“Do not presume to tell me what I need, little king,” she stated harshly, whirling away. She faced him, eyes flashing dangerously. “I am the Goddess, and I have allowed myself to stoop down to a mortal’s level because of the very love I inspire in others. I have allowed that love to warp me, to make me do things I should not do.”
“So you’re saying this is my fault,” he declared.
“No, I am saying it is my fault. I let myself be less than a Goddess and because of that I opened myself up to this type of anguish. I hurt myself, and I hurt my people, and now I have started a war.”
“Krig started the war,” he protested.
“Do you think he would have it had not been for me? For my confession of taking a lover? No, he would have abided by the truce. I…” She turned her face away, staring out blindly through the window, “I have done this… All of it. And now,” she met his eyes again, through a film of tears, “And now I will lose you too.”
“What do you say?” he asked, “Lose me?” He smiled, “You could not even if you tried, no matter how you yell. I love you, Déesse, as foolish as that may be. I love you, and all the wars and fights in the universe would not be enough to make me stop.”
He attempted to move toward her once more, and this time she did not move away. She gazed up at him with her dark, bottomless eyes, and he kissed her. Once, twice, thrice, and when he thought he had her fully convinced of his sincerity, he rested his forehead against hers and fell deep into those gorgeous eyes.
“You cannot blame yourself, my love,” he informed her, “Love is unpredictable, you know that, you are the Goddess.”
“We are in an impossible situation.”
“Nothing is impossible.”
“If Krig-“
“He won’t,” he said confidently, “He won’t.”
“Weren’t you telling me just a couple weeks ago that he would, that it was inevitable?”
He kissed one of her hands, and then clasped it to his heart, “And weren’t you the one telling me he wouldn’t?”
They stared at one another until Déesse removed herself from his embrace. “Déesse?”
She turned her head, eyes tired, “Go to your war, King Zan, and return to me when it is over.”
And then he found himself in a tent, sounds of battle reaching his ears. He met the astonished gaze of his second in command. A soldier burst into the tent, “Commander Rath!”, and then, when he caught sight of Zan, he bowed, gasping, “War Lord Zan, Khivar’s army is gaining ground, we need the reinforcements!”
Zan sighed and drew his sword. “It is never over,” he murmured.
The palace was on pins and needles. Since the pilgrimage to the Goddess, Ava had been weeping, the Queen Mother was silent and grim, and King Zan had disappeared only to reappear on the battlefield.
It was obvious that the request for the blessing of an heir had been denied, though no one who knew of the voyage could understand how the Goddess, so kind-hearted and giving, could have refused such a heartfelt plea for the good of the planet.
For the Queen Mother had told no one of what she had learned from the temple priestess. She kept the knowledge of her son’s foolhardy actions to herself.
She had trouble believing Zan capable of such daft misdeeds, and even more trouble believing the Goddess capable of jealousy towards a mortal, but both phenomenons appeared to have occurred.
He had doomed his planet to a lifetime of strife. His death, and he would die, she had no illusions that he would escape such a fate for she knew the War God’s wrath would be terrible in the face of such deception, would end everything as they knew it.
She looked at her son’s wife, who was still weeping uncontrollably because she was unable to determine when she had lost the Goddess’ favor, and felt helpless. There was nothing she could say that would comfort Ava, nothing that would restore her faith in herself. Ava would never be able to believe that it was her beloved deity that had failed, not she herself.
!
The King’s tent was situated in the middle of the camp, available to all in case of emergency, and people were going in and out and in and out all day. They were in the midst of a standstill until both sides received supplies, and Zan’s commanders and generals were debating their stratagems with each other and him for nearly a full cycle for the past few days.
This was the first time he had to himself in a while. He had demanded it, dismissed everyone from the tent, even Rath, because the planning and boasting was beginning to overwhelm him. He glanced at the map on the small war table, they had plotted the position of their enemy on it, as well as where to station their own troops. Zan closed his eyes and turned his back on it, making his way to the small curtained area where he made his bed.
The futon was hard, the pillows soft, and Zan thought longingly of Déesse. Their last discussion had left him bereft of any real resolution to the problem they were facing, and she seemed in denial about the affects this war could have on their future together. She had gone from the vivacious Goddess with emphatic assurance that Krig would never harm him, to the weary woman who had sent him here, certain that he would die.
It stung, the little faith she had in him, but he was not going to let it fester in his brain. She was the Goddess, she had never known love, especially with a mortal, and she was feeling for the first time the possibility of true loss.
“Oh, Déesse,” he murmured, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry Zan.”
He sat up quickly and stared at her. She was sitting cross-legged on the end of his futon, wearing a pair of pants and a simple shirt, he had never seen her clothed in something normal. She was always in a flowing wind-spun dress, or nude. “Goddess,” he greeted, meeting her eyes.
They darkened with sadness, “I’ve been selfish,” she said.
He shrugged, “Everyone’s selfish, it’s part of being human.”
“But I’m not human.” Her voice was low, serious. She seemed older to him somehow, and he knew that their situation was hurting her. “I’m not human, Zan. I’m not supposed to experience these emotions. I inspire them, not feel-" she broke off and ducked her head, but he had caught the sheen of tears in her eyes.
Without thinking, he drew her to him, ignoring her struggles. He held her until her sobs had stopped, rubbing her back, wiping her eyes, making soothing sounds. She was tearing herself apart, and that was tearing him apart. He felt responsible, guilty. He had managed to trap them between a rock and a hard place, someplace you never wanted to be when in the middle of a war.
“This is my fault,” he stated, kissing her forehead.
She shook her head, “We are both to blame, Zan. We weren’t meant to be, not in this lifetime, not on this world.” He glanced down at her, and her expression seemed far away, as if she were looking in the distance at something only she could see.
Zan thought about it as he cuddled with her. This was an ending. Their love would always be there, but they couldn’t last. She had said it before; she was the Goddess and immortal, he was King and mortal. She had responsibilities to five planets, ones she had been ignoring to be with him, pleas she had rejected to even her most faithful because of him. And he had a duty to his own people, to his mother and his wife, and to his War God and this war.
“So this is goodbye,” he choked out, feeling as is his heart was being rent from his chest, “I never thought it would hurt this much.”
She moved, straddling him, and gave him a painful smile. “Neither did I.” They stared at one another, hands clasped, neither wanting to be the first to break the fragile hold. Déesse leaned down for one last kiss…
!
Krig strolled around the encampment, pleased with the way it was running since Zan had finally returned. It was a shame he had to be a full-time King soon, the boy was born to be a War Lord. He had been molding the young man since early in the mortal’s life, he had been an apt and eager pupil, and all the time and effort the War God had put in was paying off. Khivar was good. Zan was better.
He made his way to the King’s tent, wanting to have a talk with Zan. He was planning on the war ending soon. Zan had seemed less somehow lately, as if his mind was not on the war as it should be. It had surprised Krig. Zan had always been focused solely on the battle, on every nuance of the war at hand. Obviously the coronation and acquirement of a wife had become too much for him. Krig would have to complete this game and wait for the next round of conflict to begin in a few decades.
As approached the tent, lit from within by wax tapers, the shadows on the far canvas caught his eye. A figure had split into two, one rising over the other, and Krig realized that Zan had a woman in his tent. The War God grinned. For years he had tried to tempt the virtuous Zan to give in to the darker passions, perhaps his wife had whetted his appetite for the practice.
He was turning away to give them privacy when he sensed the Goddess. Frozen, he scented the breeze. Zan’s lover must be calling on the Goddess to intensify the union. But… The presence was so close, almost as if Déesse was there.
His eyes widened as he turned back to the tent and strode to it. Warriors scattered, their War God’s anger frighteneing to behold. The tang of blood was in the air, sharpening with each step Krig took.
!
She smelled blood. Something was prickling on the edge of her consciousness, but Zan’s kisses captured most of her attention. She couldn’t believe she would never kiss him again, never be able to make love with him… He was still so innocent, for all the lessons she had given him and the battles he had gone through, and she feared this would end that innocence.
The blood scent was getting stronger. A loud rip was heard and she broke away from Zan. They both stared up at the enraged War God, and then she was forcibly thrown from her lover. Zan scrambled up, worried, “Déesse…”
“You gave him your name!” roared Krig, and then he lunged at his favorite War Lord.
She should not have stayed.
Panic and the foulness in the air kept her frozen as Krig slammed Zan on the wooden table, breaking it, pieces went rolling to the floor, the map caught the wind and flew from the tent. Yelling suddenly penetrated her stilled awareness, and Zan’s Commander entered the tent, sword drawn. He stopped though, at the sight of his King and the War God clashing.
Zan’s knife, the only piece of weaponry he had managed to grasp in the tumble, flew out of his hand from a well-placed strike by Krig. The Commander finally moved, his allegiance to his King and friend winning. “Rath, no!” Zan ordered, ducking under Krig’s blade. But the tip caught him, cutting his head at the hairline. The blow caused him to stumble, and he tripped over the curtain that had fallen earlier and hit the floor.
A sound of protest escaped her, and Rath, who had started moving again, paused, startled. He looked at her for the first time. “Goddess.”
She did not hear him, because she had found that she was capable of motion again. It happened so swiftly. She could see the defiant look in Zan’s eyes as he stared up at Krig, who had his sword ready to deliver the final blow, Zan’s blood glinting on it’s razor edge.
“NO!” Déesse flung herself at Krig, knock him away, and then threw herself on top of Zan, protecting him as best she was able. There was no point to disappearing with him, Krig would follow and retribution would be quick. “Please, no,” she begged. Zan was muttering protests and trying to dislodge her, but he wouldn’t take the chance of hurting her, and didn’t try very hard. She kept her eyes on her fellow deity.
Rage was still burning in his eyes, the knuckles gripping the sword hilt were white, and the stench of blood was oppressive. He leveled the sword at her throat, “Move.”
She shook her head mutely. Zan was inert beneath her, but she could feel his own helpless fury. “No.”
“I will go through you,” he threatened, knowing it wouldn’t harm her.
She shook her head again and shifted, grabbing the blade in both hands, her blood, for she could bleed, mixing with her lover’s. “Please, Krig,” she pleaded, voice nearly inaudible, “Please.”
His blue eyes met her brown, and then he pulled the sword back, sheathing it. She never made a sound as it sliced through her palms, though Zan cried out in alarm. Déesse turned to him and kissed him again. He understood, and clung to her, refusing to release her, until she was torn from him again.
Krig glared at him, Déesse trapped in his embrace. “Through your own doing shall be your downfall.”
And then he vanished, taking Déesse with him.
!
The tide of the war had changed, and Zan knew it would not be long. His commanders asked him to petition the War God, they didn’t understand when he told them that the War God was Antar’s ally no longer. They didn’t understand when Zan sent Rath back to the palace to ensure the safety of his mother and wife and citizens.
Rath understood. Not about all that had happened that night, but he knew Zan had meddled in something that ought not be meddled in, and that now his King was facing the consequences head on. But he would preserve as many of his subjects as possible before that day of reckoning.
The day was at hand. Zan donned his armor, mounted his beast, and sent a quick whisper of love along the shattered remains of his connection to the Goddess. It was a good day to die.
!
She had felt him in every part of her being, the love still so strong… And then had come the absolute pain. It had wrenched through her body, leaving her weak and trembling, until she could barely remember her powers.
But she caught the thread of their connection, and with what wisps of power she could manage to hold on to through the aunguish, and went to him.
The sight that greeted her eyes when she rematerialized nearly made her vomit. There were bodies as far as the eye could see, torn, bloody limbs, men dismembered… She shuddered and looked down, away from the carnage, but a new, more horrifying scene lay at her feet.
The warrior had a sword still embedded in his abdomen, there was dried blood crusted on his armor, which was battered, and more of the sanguine fluid matted in his dark hair, his helm lost somewhere in the melee. The thick red liquid had dried black on his face. Her hand came to her mouth as he uttered a groan. “Déesse.”
“Zan…” she whispered, sinking down on her knees beside him. Blood seeped into her dress, but she did not notice. Despair shook her as she pushed hair away from his beautiful eyes. She couldn’t save him, even she had no power over Life and Death. Holding back her tears, she met his eyes, their brightness fading. “I love you,” she told him softly, tenderly kissing his lips.
A smile came to his face, and, with effort, he lifted his fist to head, lips, and heart.
!
The body lay on the altar; bathed, wounds dressed, and clothed in wind-spun garments. The Goddess stood beside the alter, and finally allowed herself to cry.
“He was the best.”
Furious, she looked up, “Leave this instant!”
Krig looked at her solemnly, “I came for him, Déesse. He swore his allegiance to me, his body is mine.”
“You killed him.”
“Khivar killed him. He had given up his will to live, so maybe he would have died later rather than sooner, but he would have died all the same.” She said nothing. “You will never understand war Déesse, nor the thoughts of those who fight them.”
“Perhaps,” she murmured, looking back down at her lover, “But I knew his thoughts, and his heart.” She brushed his hair back, it always seemed to want to fall across his forehead… “And his soul is mine.”
“He was a warrior, Déesse, his soul and his body belong to me,” Krig repudiated.
She shook her head, a tender smile on her face, “He offered his soul to me, War God, and I have already set it free.”
Blue eyes blinked, “What?”
Another smile, this one sad. “Not in this lifetime,” she said, “Not on this world.” And her own soul flew free…
With the death of their King, and the defection of the War God’s graces to the enemy, Antar fell into Khivar’s greedy clutches. And with the Goddess gone, love was lost to suffering and anguish under the tyrant’s hand.
The people cried out for the return of their King.
Thousands of years later, after many rebirths and many lonely deaths, two souls were born on Earth. A boy and a girl, who loved a life of legend.
And when Max Evans landed on the war-torn, bitter planet of Antar, his Liz was at his side, and they brought back to their planet peace, and life, and love…
End
Edited to add: I've decided to do the sequel myself, so look forward to Star Born in Flesh!
Another addition: I'm going to turn this into the Goddess of the Stars trilogy. The first story is obviously Oh My Goddess which explains about Zan and the Goddess; then comes Star Born in Flesh, which will show Max and Liz's journey to Antar (this'll be more sci fi); and finally Ascent to Heaven, which will deal with the repercussions of the Goddess returning to Antar
Last edited by blake on Fri Dec 19, 2003 2:42 pm, edited 3 times in total.
