Date: Mon, 9 Feb 2009 18:33:20 -0500
From: M Patroclus <thephallocrat@gmail.com>
Subject: The Exile, Chapter 5

I have returned to writing after a break of some hours. I was relating my
encounter with the Queen of Fermanagh, and the magic of seduction that she
wielded. In recalling this event, I felt a strange stirring within me as I
lost myself in the memory of her power, and for a moment I felt that I was
under her spell once more. I wanted to seek her out and to serve her even
now, after so much time has passed. I have always believed that I escaped
from her magic unscathed, and yet now I fear it is not so. Perhaps there
has always been a part of me, buried deep inside, that has remained her
willing slave, a tiny piece of my soul that has been corrupted by her
forever. This thought so troubled me that I could not continue with my
account.

Seeking to clear my head I took a long walk through the royal complex. I
felt restless, as though I needed to search for something but could not
remember what. At last I entered one of the libraries, a small and
comfortable chamber with walls full of books on every subject. I had an
idea that perhaps I would look for information on the kind of magics used
by the women of Fermanagh, to help ease my mind, but was interrupted by the
revelation that the room was already occupied.

There was girl in the room, a servant who had been dusting the
bookshelves. She gasped at the sight of me and feel to her knees
immediately. She seemed so young and frail, barely more than a child, but I
realized with a start that she must surely be near the age that I was when
I was exiled from my people. I could not believe that it had been so long,
for I felt so very much older. But then perhaps it is only that so much has
happened since then. I did not know how best to judge how much I had
aged. Is time a constant flow, a river moving always at the same pace? Some
days run slow, and others impossibly fast. At times the events I have
related in my tale thus far seem like only weeks past, and at other times
they feel centuries removed. The fault is surely in the perceiver, I would
think. Perhaps time is constant; human beings, as always, are not.

The serving girl was pretty, very pretty indeed. I studied her with an
eager eye, seeking deep within myself if any part of my soul resonated with
desire for her. I imagined she was Valessa standing before me once again,
that she had commanded me to please her, but beyond her beauty she was
nothing at all like that dreaded Queen. There was no confidence or power in
her movements, no arrogance in her eyes, or cruel mirth in her smile. The
shaken girl bore my gaze fearfully, her bottom lip trembling with fear that
she might have displeased me. Valessa had never feared anything or
anyone. It was, in the final account, what made her so dangerous.

At last I was satisfied that I felt nothing. It was not a perfect test, to
be sure, and yet it made me feel somewhat more myself. I thanked the poor
girl, and apologized for startling her. I gave her my blessing and sent her
away. There were no books on the subject I sought, or at least none that I
found in my cursory search, so I continued my walk, glad to take in the
fresh air and explore corridors and rooms in the complex that I had never
yet seen. While I wandered, I considered how best to continue my story. It
is all too tempting to skip past a few events, to leave out a few details,
and move on to happier, less complicated parts of my journey. It would
certainly be easier. The problem is that there are perhaps no words to
fittingly describe my capture by the Queen, for the brief time that I was
under her power seems like the memories of another man. It is not a
pleasant period to recall, and yet I have resolved to omit nothing
important from my story, and for good reason. My predecessor left nothing
out of his own account, and in this as in so many things I have sought to
follow his example faithfully.

I have returned now, and am prepared to relate what happened next. But I
beg you, mysterious reader, to understand that I must cover many events in
but a few pages, and that the best I can record is but a pale, meager
shadow of what really occurred. Your imagination must do the work that my
words cannot.
_______________________________________________________________________________

If I write that I was hers, utterly and completely, it is not an
exaggeration. What chills my blood even now, in remembering, is how
willingly I would have died for her. I would have jumped from the castle
towers or impaled myself on my own ancient silver sword, had she commanded
it. At her instruction, I, who had no desire for the flesh of women, would
have mated with her again and again if only to bring her pleasure. Her face
was burned into my vision, so that anywhere I looked I saw her laughing at
me, calling for me, commanding me. She had won, and I had surrendered to
her completely.

And yet now I think it must not have been so. When a nation conquers
another, squashing their defenses and bringing them forcefully under their
own rule, they themselves by their own cruel, violent action plant the
seeds of resistance in the conquered people. This resistance may be hidden
for years, even from the eyes of the people themselves, but in the end it
will always rise up as a rebellion to claim its freedom once again. Though
it seemed my every thought was for her, the truth is that some part of me
must have retained its independence -- the part that had looked on Damon
with desire, the part that had thrilled to be held by Valen, the part that
had decided to risk exile than to consummate a marriage of lies. This must
have been the case, but at that time I did not know it.

I felt a strain at my crotch, and knew that I stood erect with desire
merely because she wished it so. She smiled at me, and I felt joy at the
sight like I had never known. Her eyes smoldering with an inner fire, she
slowly robed herself again and ran her fingers through her hair.

"I'll give you this much credit, Pilo," she said, "You are a stronger man
than most. You really thought you could resist me, and for a moment I
almost thought you could."

"Never, Your Highness. No one could resist you."

"I'm certain more than ever that my husband sent you to be a spy," she
laughed and turned towards her pillows again, "he should know better by
now."

"It is so, Your Highness. He wanted me to find out about your connection to
Broxbourne."

She spun to look at me. "So he knows enough to be suspicious. I shouldn't
be surprised. Well, let him squirm. There's nothing he can do to stop me
now. Tomorrow we shall meet with the Ambassador and settle it all. You, my
dear, have delivered the final piece of the bargain into my hands."

That was the sword, certainly, and at the mention of it I felt a spark of
hope deep within the fog of her magic. It was gone as quickly as it had
come.

"You sought to reclaim the sword, did you not?"

"Yes, Majesty. I loved it and desired it above all things," I said.

"And now?" she asked, her mouth forming a flirtatious pout.

"I only desire you."

"Well said," she said, laughing, "Dress yourself, Pilo. But don't get too
comfortable in your clothes. No doubt you will not be wearing them long."

I had scarcely covered my body again when Tolo returned, bowing
respectfully to the Queen and glaring at me challengingly. I had bore him
no ill will before, but now I saw him only as a competitor to Valessa's
favor. I would fight him or any other man who would come between me and my
lady.

"The Seeress is ready, Your Highness," he said, "She awaits your pleasure."

Seeing him again, I knew my initial rush of recognition had not been
wrong. The shape of the nose, the shade of the eyes, the whole set of the
mouth was familiar. Though I hated him immediately as a rival for the
Queen's attention, I could not but admit that he was far more handsome than
his brother. It was as if those features I had found appealing in Cedrick
had been but half-formed, and in Tolo they had found their final
completion.

"The second test, Pilo," the Queen said, lowering herself to her pillow
again, "The test of potential. Tolo, bring her in."

The people of my village often live to old ages, but I had never seen
anyone who seemed so ancient as the woman Tolo showed into the Queen's
chambers. She was stooped and withered, her head covered with the faintest
wisps of ragged white hair. She leaned heavily upon a walking stick and
muttered to herself continually. She turned to face me, and I saw her skin
was sagged and withered; she seemed only a few steps removed from the dry,
mummified remains I had seen deep within the ancient Anatherian tomb. When
she smiled, she revealed only a handful of yellow, crooked teeth.

"What`s this? Who's here?" she muttered. Her eyes were milky white and well
past their use. She gestured towards Tolo, "This one we know, the slave who
will not always be a slave. And our lady Queen, our daughter of power." She
gave a grotesque curtsy. "But who is this other? This other?"

The Queen sat forward, intrigued. "He is our newest servant, Seeress. Read
him for us. Tell us his potential."

"She can see the future?" I asked, but the old woman snorted.

"Fool! None can see it. Does not exist. Is a book that has not been
written. But one may guess at some of the words, mayhap... yes, we can
guess at a few of the words. Yes! Not what you will be, but what you might
be! Come, come. Let me read you." She hobbled to me, sniffing me curiously
and exploring my body with a withered hand. I was repulsed by her
appearance and by the smell of her rancid breath, but I dared not move lest
I offend my Queen.

"What's this, eh? What's this? Two souls! Two princes!
Impossible... Amazing!" She cackled loudly, a sharp, unpleasing sound. "Two
souls! One stolen, and one with a hole in it! How can this be?"

"What are you saying?" the Queen asked, "What do you mean, two souls?"

But the Seeress ignored the question, for she had discovered the amulet
that hung about my neck.

"What's this? What's this?"

I looked at the amulet. It was simple a circular medallion at the center of
which was a brightly-colored red gem. The whole piece hung from a simple
silver-linked chain. I had worn it since Errold had pressed it into my
hands outside the tomb, begging me in his madness to take it. It had not
since then occurred to me to take it off. For whatever reason, I had grown
accustomed to its presence and let it be.

"It was a gift from... from someone I knew. I don't know where he got it."
I explained.

The crone sniffed at it. "Remove! Makes things muddy. Get souls mixed
up. Remove."

I obediently lifted the chain above my head and slipped it into my pocket.

"Bye bye, Prince," she said to the amulet, and then, looking at me,
"Yes. Much clearer now."

The Seeress took a deep breath and rolled her unseeing eyes up towards the
ceiling. I felt her presence then. It was similar to the sensation I had
felt when Damon had entered my mind, and yet not as pleasant. Where Damon
had slipped delicately and touched sensually, the old crone reached in
recklessly and without care or discretion.

"Ancient blood. Hmph! Royal! But what's this? What's this? Yes... A black
spot. An empty spot. There's a worm in this apple, eh?" She tapped my chest
and cackled again.

"Honored Seeress," the Queen said, "Please explain. What are you talking
about?"

The woman spat. "No. No. No explain, too much. Read now. Read his
potential."

"Yes," the Queen said impatiently, "that was why I brought you here."

"Your hand," the old woman ordered me, "Give me. Give me!"

I presented her my left hand, which she slapped away impatiently and
gestured for my right. I gave it to her, and she held it tightly while
tracing the lines of my palm with one finger.

"What's this... What's this..." she muttered to herself in a drone.

"Your Highness," I pleaded, nervously.

"Hush now, Pilo. This won't take long," the Queen replied.

The woman seemed to have entered a trance, her head moving in a gentle
circle and her muttered incantations picking up in speed and
intensity. Abruptly she stopped, her whole body frozen.

"No. No." she said, "NO!"

Her body stiffened as she screamed and she fell to her knees, releasing my
hand.

"Awaken, sleeper! Awaken and see the truth of all things!" she shouted in a
voice so unlike her own that I did not at first believe it had come from
her at all. "The land shall split asunder and may yet be rebound as one!
Oh, awaken! Blood of the ancients, throne of antiquity, healer of old
wounds! Uniter! Unifier! Awaken and hold us all in your palm!"

The crone had gone mad, pounding her hands against the floor and shouting
more words that I could not make out or do not remember well enough to
recount here. The Queen summoned guards from the corridor, stoic looking
amazarii women, who gathered the Seeress and pulled her, still shouting,
from the room. She left behind a heavy silence that in the aftermath of her
outburst seemed all the more powerful.

"You amaze me once again, Pilo," said the Queen at last, "Never before have
I seen such a reaction from the Seeress. Royal blood? Why, yes... I think
you pass this test. Did you hear, Tolo? Royal blood!"

Tolo turned a dark shade of red and squeezed his fists in silent rage. I
burned with pleasure to hear my Queen's words of praise, and only gained
more satisfaction in seeing my competitor's reaction.

"Now, now, Tolo. Do not fear. I will give you a chance to redeem
yourself. The final test is for you both." She summoned more amazarii
guards. "I will see you both very soon. Take them to the pit."

We were led from the room. Leaving her presence caused me pain that I
cannot describe, but I recognized the same anguish in Tolo's face and knew
he felt it too. Our eyes met briefly, and for a second I thought I might
have spied compassion in the handsome man. But then they narrowed into a
cruel, threatening gaze, and I knew he planned my death by any means
necessary. With only a slight surprise, I knew I felt the same. We
maintained a tense silence as we traveled the hallways of the Queen's
palace.

The pit turned out to be a large circular room with a sunken area in the
middle, curved like a deep bowl, with raised seating around the edges. The
purpose of the room was clear; indeed, as we entered two amazarii fought
without weapons in the sunken center. Tolo and I, along with our escorts,
watched the duel. There were slaps and punches, and surprisingly acrobatic
kicks -- but for a time neither opponent gained much ground over the
other. At last, one of the woman managed to pin the other into a hold about
the head and chest, after which the captured woman conceded. They broke off
from fighting and embraced, kissing each other on both cheeks.

One of my amazarii guards nudged me. "You see? We do not fall prey to
grudges and meaningless violence like you men. We fight not from base
animal instinct, like you, but to defend ourselves and our sisters and to
become masters of our art. These women fight to hone their skill, and they
do honor to each other even as they struggle."

We were silent for a time while I considered this. At last Tolo said,
spitefully, "I will do you no honor in what is to come, stranger. I fight
to win."

I am slow to anger, but under the Queen's power I was almost another man
entirely. I could not stay silent any longer. "Your brother sent me to kill
you," I said, a sadistic smile playing on my face, "and now that I've met
you I understand why. It will be my pleasure."

He flinched at this, but said nothing.

We were stripped, predictably, and forced to rub a kind of grease on each
other's bodies. This, we were told, was to make the wrestling more
difficult and therefore more entertaining for the Queen. Tolo stood like a
statue as I spread the slick substance across his smooth body, giving no
indication that he knew or cared that my hands were brushing past intimate
areas. I knew it, however, and as my hands traveled across his back and
chest and past his groin (where he showed another sizable advantage over
his brother) to his legs, I felt a stirring of desire within me so at odds
with the spell that had me bound that for a moment I felt like two
different people entirely, sharing one body.

The effect was only further enhanced when it came his turn to grease
me. His motions were brusque and rough, and yet my skin tingled with
pleasure at his touch. It was then that I knew my first brief moments of
freedom from the spell of the Queen. That part of me which had never truly
been conquered by her magic showed itself, and gave me hope.

When she entered the room, however, that part vanished back into
hiding. She had changed her dress, but looked just as stunning as my
imagination could devise, having been focused only on her since the moment
she had captured me. She was flanked by scores of amazarii women who filled
the room as eager spectators. Their faces were studies in cruel beauty as
they grinned and sneered at us, two naked men in the pit before them.

"This is the test of strength," the Queen announced, "The rules are simple:
the first of you to pin and subdue the other is the victor, and shall share
my bed tonight."

We were on each other almost before she gave the signal, our hands and arms
straining to gain a hold. The grease worked as intended, for it was nearly
impossible to keep any kind of grip on Tolo without him slipping out of my
arms. He was perhaps a bit taller than me, but we were evenly matched in
terms of muscle and strength. I would not be able to win by sheer force
alone.

After a few unsuccessful attempts at grappling, we spun apart and circled
each other warily. The amazarii surrounding the Queen cheered and laughed,
taking bets as to the winner. I heard laughter and taunts from the women
regarding my hairless body. My face burned at their jests, and for a moment
I felt a stirring of my old self again. But in this distraction, Tolo had
launched at me, and I had no chance to further summon willpower against the
Queen's magic.

We began to grapple in earnest, the grease beginning to give way enough to
allow us to lock up for long periods of time. We sought to outlast each
other in pure stamina, pausing on occasion to catch our breath, still
holding on to each other tightly. In one of these moments, as I gasped for
air and rested my body against his, I noticed how closely our posture
resembled an embrace. My body pressed against his intimately, my face near
his neck, my hands clasped to his arms. My sacred organs even rested gently
on his leg, like lovers after union. How closely violent hatred can
resemble love! Both rooted in passion, they are more related to each other
than we usually bring ourselves to believe. I had no sooner begun to enjoy
the intimacy of the brief reprieve than Tolo began his assault again.

I felt myself weakening, and I could not breathe fast enough. The muscles
of my legs and arms burned with the strain, and I knew they would give out
all too soon. Tolo had obtained a superior position, standing above me and
using his whole weight to entrap me. The grease and sweat had been rubbed
off sufficiently that I could not pull myself from his grasp.  I looked
into his eyes and saw them tighten with what I then assumed to be
determination to win, but suddenly his legs collapsed slightly beneath him
and, his position thus weakened, I was able to twist my body in such a way
that he lost his balance and fell to the ground. At that point it was easy,
and I had him pinned within moments. After struggling uselessly against me
for some time, he relented and I was named the victor. As the amazarii
began to cheer, I eyed Tolo suspiciously, hardly believing I had won.

"Well done," the Queen said, and her women fell silent, "Well done,
Pilo. You have earned a great honor this day. You shall be my new consort."

Part of me thrilled at this announcement, yet another part, weak but
gaining strength, felt ill at the thought. I looked at Tolo, whose face was
mixture of confusion and despair as he turned from me and walked away.
____________________________________________________________________________________

Bathed, dressed in robes much like Tolo's, and awaiting the Queen in her
personal bedchamber, I paced back and forth restlessly, at war with
myself. Valessa had told me she would join me shortly, and yet now some
time had passed and she had not come. I felt like I was being torn into
pieces, and pounded the walls and cried out in confusion and frustration. I
raged that I should be trapped so beyond my will, raged that she had not
come as I longed for her, raged that I could not escape and angry with
myself for wanting to. I was many things at once.

"The Queen commands your presence," came a voice that startled me, and
turning I saw that an amazarii had entered the room while I had been
distracted by my torment.

"I thought she was meeting me here," I said.

The amazarii tossed her hair impatiently. "It is not for you to
question. The Ambassador has demanded an audience this evening. Surely you
realize such affairs of state take precedence over... recreation." She
gestured dismissively at me.

I noticed she carried the clothes I had been given by Valen's servants that
very morning, the ones that had been taken from me before the bout with
Tolo.

"The Queen commands you to wear these."

I took them from her. "Give me a few moments and I'll change."

She stood waiting, and only after I gave her a signal did she realize that
I would not change my clothing in front of her. She rolled her eyes and
left the room. As I took off the flowing robes, I pondered this turn of
events. An insect of some kind crawled across the floor nearby, but I,
foolishly, was lost in my thoughts and ignored it. The Ambassador had to be
a representative from Broxbourne, that was certain... but why the change of
apparel? Could it be the Queen did not wish for the Ambassador to see me
wearing her livery?

My thoughts were interrupted suddenly as Damon, appearing miraculously like
the angel I had named him for, spoke to me, saying, "Master! I'm here!"

For the second time I collapsed into tears before him, but this time the
tears were of untainted joy and relief. He looked at me, bewildered, but I
could only smile and weep.  Damon had implied, when I first had encountered
him, that the beauty of his form was but a reflection of the beauty of my
soul. I had not understood what he meant until that moment, for in looking
upon him I suddenly saw myself through a stranger's eyes - the eyes of a
man under the power of the Queen. Seeing him, I knew my true self and loved
it, knew that I was not the Queen's slave but Markis -- Markis the former
Priest, Markis of long dead Anatheria, Markis the exile. Damon, thinking no
doubt that he had upset me, crossed to comfort me and I eagerly took him in
my arms and kissed him.

In that kiss all my confusion and doubt vanished.

"Listen," I said, breaking away, "I need you to take a message to the
King. I don't care how he gets it. Tell him that an Ambassador from
Broxbourne meets with the Queen this very evening. Tell him I will try to
escape, and that I'll need protection if I manage to get out of the
palace. Bring me word back from him, if you can. You have enough power for
that?"

He nodded, "I think so. But I grow weaker."

I could hear footsteps; the amazarii guard was returning.

"Later, I promise!" I said hurriedly, "Only hurry, now. Hide yourself."

"Yes, Master," he said.

"Damon... thank you."

"For what, Master?" he asked, but I merely waved him away.

He transformed and was gone, and seconds later the guard entered the room
again.

"I'm ready," I said, as casually as I could.

When the amazarii guard brought me into the Queen's audience chamber, a
heated discussion was already taking place. Valessa, strung arrogantly
across her throne, was glaring unhappily at another woman dressed all in
white robes. This woman was easily twice Valessa's age, her face wrinkled
and wizened but, compared to the Seeress, still quite young. She was
flanked on either side by soldiers in armor I recognized only too well --
suddenly I recalled where I had heard the name Broxbourne before. My heart
sank as, finally, I began to put the pieces together of what was going
on. The armor was the same as that of the soldiers I had fought and slain
outside the tomb, the same as the officer's who had ridden off with Errold.

"We made a deal, Mighty Queen," the woman in white said, her voice
strained, "You were to turn him over to us as soon as he came into your
hands."

The Queen clicked her tongue. "We`ve been over this, Ambassador."

"The man is a criminal, a murderer who must be tried by a court of
Broxbourne. He slew several of our soldiers and interfered with a matter
important to the Archbishop himself. More, he is a thief. He stole two very
valuable magical artifacts that belong rightfully to His Excellency."

"The Archbishop's petty desires for revenge do not concern me," Valessa
said casually, "I have the sword, as he requested, I really think that
should satisfy him... Ah, Pilo. You've come. You can see, Ambassador, here
he is in the flesh."

The Ambassador gave me only a moment's glance. "Yes. The demand is for both
the sword and the man. He's too dangerous to be left roaming free."

The Queen's laughed rang through the room. "He'll hardly be roaming here, I
assure you. I have taken him under my power, and he will serve me
faithfully until he's dead. Take your sword, and tell His Grace that his
criminal has already been sentenced."

"I fear you overestimate your power," the Ambassador replied, "the Creator
punishes arrogance."

Valessa rose slowly, her jaw sit firmly in defiance. "Bring the sword," she
called.

She motioned to a nearby guard, who produced my ancient silver sword,
looking as perfect and beautiful as Damon ever could. The Queen took it,
and examined it curiously.

"A fascinating weapon," she said, "Tell me, why does your Archbishop desire
it so?"

The Ambassador sniffed. "That is a private matter."

The Queen's eyes flashed with fire. "For months I have been providing
Broxbourne with gifts of gold, and, more importantly, of ancient artifacts
from our vaults. This blade, too, is from ages past. The Archbishop has
suddenly developed a strange obsession with history."

"His Grace's interests are academic," the Ambassador replied, "And
regardless, it is the price for our help. Waging a civil war is no small
thing. Turn over the hairless man and the sword at once, or we shall have
to reconsider our pledge of support."

"Then I would insist that you return my gifts," Valessa replied, "All of
them."

The Ambassador looked struck by this, and made no reply.

"The sword you shall have, but not the man," the Queen announced, "He is of
much more value to me than to His Grace."

"Very well, if that is your decision. His Grace shall determine the
consequences of your refusal. But give us the sword." She paused,
hesitating. "And the amulet."

Without thinking, my hand traveled to my neck to feel for it, but then I
remembered I had taken it off and put it in my pocket. Valessa appeared
furious.

"That was not part of the original agreement. You add condition after
condition, and strain this alliance."

"It only recently came to our attention that he possessed that amulet as
well," the Ambassador said, "If you desire our help, you will meet our
demands promptly."

The Queen rose, annoyance written clearly on her face. "One does not make
demands of a Queen," she said, "You will receive the sword and the amulet
when and if I wish it. Come see me in the morning, as we had originally
planned. We will discuss it then. Good evening, Ambassador."

Still holding the silver sword, the Queen strode purposefully from the
room, leaving the Ambassador sputtering furiously behind her. Only then did
the Broxbournean woman look at me, meeting my eyes with a look of disgust
and hatred. She turned sharply and left, her armed escorts following behind
her.
____________________________________________________________________________________

"The arrogance of that woman!" the Queen said, storming into her bedchamber
angrily, "She has no idea who she is dealing with."

"Patience, my Queen," said one of her advisors, an imposing and clearly
high-ranking amazarii, "Remember, we need their help."

By now Valessa had caught sight of me, and a small smile played across her
face. In her hands she still held my silver sword, and it was agonizing to
see it so near and yet so out of reach.

"Well, let it rest for tonight," she said, "We will deal with her
tomorrow."

Her advisors nodded and began to filter from the room, throwing lewd,
mocking looks in my direction. By then the Queen had also seen Tolo,
standing a few feet from me and looking thoroughly unhappy.

"Tolo," she said, smiling, "Don't look so sad, my pet. Here, take this."
She handed him the silver sword, and my heart sank seeing it in his
hands. "You may guard this tonight. You see? You're still important to
me. I'll send for it, and you, in the morning."

He nodded and joined the others in exiting the room, until I was left alone
with her. She looked at me curiously, inquiringly, and I felt terror in the
pit of my stomach. For a moment I feared I would fall under her power once
again, but I thought of Damon and it gave me strength.

"There's something different about you, Pilo," she said, "Are you nervous?"

"I am anxious to please you, my Queen," I said.

"Come here," she said, sitting on her bed, "Sit with me."

I did so. Her hands roamed over my bare head.

"Tell me about my brother-husband. What did he think of you?"

"I couldn't say, Majesty."

"I know him. No doubt he found you as fascinating as I do myself. I don't
know why he let you out of his sight."

I felt a pain in my heart, remembering the tender moments Valen and I had
shared the night before. I struggled to keep my face blank but some small
sign of my affection must have showed.

"What did you think of him, Pilo? You cared for him?" she was smiling
sadistically, thoroughly enjoying herself.

"I thought him the best of men," I said, truthfully, "An honest, noble
man."

The Queen's laughter was truly hideous, and went on for some length of time
without stopping.

"Oh, Pilo, you are so adorable. How can you be so capable and yet so
innocent? You think me a monster."

"Never, my Queen!" I protested.

"Well, not now, of course. Now you are mine. But before, you thought me a
cruel, heartless woman. Admit it."

I nodded, feigning as much reluctance as I could.

"I know so. And perhaps in many ways I am what you thought. But not so much
as Valen would have you believe. At least I do not hide my sins like my
hypocritical brother. Oh, yes, Pilo. He is not so noble as you think. I
want you understand this, and understand why I plot the way that I do."

I nodded, not sure what to say. My eyes traveled the room uncomfortably,
and I noticed a small but heavy looking statue of a nude woman. It sat on a
small stand quite near the bed, just barely out of reach.

"What has Valen told you of our history? Of the time before the Rule of
Two?"

"Only that the men and women of Fermanagh have always been at odds," I
said.

She pursed her lips, "That is an extremely politic way of putting it,
especially from a man. Long ago, long before the Rule of Two, women were
treated cruelly in this city," she explained, "You have no idea how bad it
was, Pilo. I have read the accounts, and I can barely imagine it. We were
property, worse than animals. We learned to fight back - the amazarii were
born. If my warrior women have hatred for all of your sex, it is for good
reason, I assure you. We also learned the magic of seduction, learning to
entrap men to aid our cause. We fought bitterly, and at last we were
granted our own sovereignty and basic human rights. But the men have never
forgiven us. They treat us as cruelly as ever if they can. And Valen allows
it."

I shook my head in disbelief, and inched closer to the statue.

"Reports come to me of all that happens in our city, Pilo. Do you know how
many women are raped in this city every day? How many by Valen's personal
soldiers? He has ordered the rape, torture, and worse of my women in the
service of what he calls the greater good. You thought me heartless, but I
love the women who are my subjects. I would do anything for
them. Anything."

Her eyes flashed again the way only hers could do, and I knew she meant it.

"The only way to restore peace to the city," she continued, "is to
subjugate the men once and for all. Only when they are stripped of all
power can the violence and madness that corrupts the heart of Fermanagh
stop. You understand, don't you? Valen is the true monster. I have
entrapped you, yes, I have humiliated you before my women, but ultimately
you shall be my consort and live a life of luxury and pleasure. Those
unfortunate women who are dragged into the King's service have only pain
and misery to look forward to. Valen keeps his consorts in cells, and
allows any of his men to come to them and abuse them as they please. So
tell me -- who is truly the cruel and heartless one here?"

I tried to imagine Valen allowing such a thing. "No," I said firmly, "It's
not true. It can't be."

Valessa paused, her eyes watching me suspiciously. "You grow a little too
confident, Pilo. Your attachment to my brother is greater than I
thought. Renounce him, Pilo. Tell me how much you hate and despise him, for
my sake."

I said nothing.

"I command it!" she said, her brow furrowing.

"No," I said softly.

She took a gasp of breath. "What did you say?"

I rose slowly and faced her, my voice growing with defiance, "I said no."

She rose as well, her face reddening with anger. "You cannot defy me! You
are the property of Fermanagh! You are mine!"

"I belong to nowhere and to nobody," I said, "I am Markis the exile, and I
defy you, mighty Queen."

She launched herself at me as if to strike me, but I caught her hands and
overpowered her easily. I pinned her to the bed and she struggled uselessly
against my strength. She raged wildly, like the trapped animal she was, but
to no avail.

"I don't understand," she said, tears trickling down her face, "I don't
understand."

"Listen to me," I said, "The women of this city may well have been treated
terribly in the past. You have a right to defend yourself.  But every
person holds responsibility for the evils they do to others, no matter what
evils have been done to them. Violence does not excuse violence. You would
revert this city to the barbarity of its past by reducing men to slaves and
animals -- practicing on them all that was done to you. Revenge is a strong
temptation -- but it is a base instinct that makes us all more like animals
and less like the angels we could be."

I released her and stood away from the bed. She sat up, her body tense and
ready to defend herself.

"I have only to scream once," she said, "and my guards will come in and
kill you. I promise, I will do it."

"No, my Queen," I said, my hands finding the statue of the naked woman,
"You won't. I'm sorry."

The heavy statue struck her head with a hallow thud and she collapsed
unconscious onto the bed. I checked her wound and her pulse; she would
live, and hopefully I would be long gone before she awoke. I kissed her
gently on her soft round lips, and then with only a moment's hesitation
slipped out of the room.

**Thanks for reading! As always, your feedback, comments, or questions are
welcome and appreciated. They really help me stay motivated. Please enjoy!
thephallocrat@gmail.com**