by L M Adams
Where did it go so fucking wrong? Why can’t I be happy with his abuse? I’ve always been happy and content as a masochist slave. Is the fact that I have no tie to Vayrá and the blood ocean the problem? Or am I just searching for any reason other than the fact that I think somewhere in all of this… Lucien got through to me?
Did his relentless love chip away at that black obsidian?
Chip away? I huff, more like took a battering ram to it.
“My emir?”
I jump and turn to see Keyon standing next to my chair.
“Goddess, you’re quiet,” I breathe out and relax in the chair again.
I hadn’t noticed the door opening or him coming in at all.
“You requested more wine, my emir?” He asks, a large decanter in his arms. I’m not sure how he doesn’t topple over.
“Yes, just set it down there,” I wave towards the table beside me. No point in putting it across the room, I’ll probably go through the entire thing tonight.
“Why aren’t you celebrating the Solstice?” I ask as he sets it down with a heavy thump.
The dark liquid picks up the firelight perfectly, yet again making me think of Lucien’s eyes when they smolder low with heat and desire.
“I must see to my emir’s needs first… even as Atum, I am Isis… yes?” Keyon says. He’s so fucking earnest, it’s almost heartbreaking.
“I’m not your prince,” I sigh and let my head fall back, closing my eyes.
“Of course you are, you are the beloved of the Raja.”
“Not anymore kid.”
“Then you have set the Raja to the side?”
I huff, “No…”
“He is no longer your heart song?”
I sit up to look at the kid, “Of course he is…”
“Then you are my emir, my prince.”
“Well…” I suddenly feel awkward discussing the nuances of me and Lucien’s relationship, “I messed up is all.”
He shrugs a small shoulder, “We all mess up, yes? My mother says we learn from our mistakes and the important part is that you grow.”
“Your mother is a wise woman.”
He nods his head about a million times, “She is of Isis.”
“The givers.” I whisper.
He nods again, “You are of Isis, yes?”
“The cursed sons, but yes.”
He shrugs again, “My mother says that family is family, you are family my emir, and your heart is troubled. Is there a way that I can help you?”
And I know he means that, I know that young Keyon would give anything to see me happier, it is how he lives, how he was raised, who he is. It’s who I used to be, tried to be, wanted to be… I try to give. I live my life trying to make other people happy, it always gives me such peace and joy.
But all the things I have to give, Lucien doesn’t want.
“Tell me how to fix a thing when it’s broken.”
He looks very thoughtful for a moment, “Ask a child of Atum for help, they are good at fixing things.”
“Broken hearts too?”
“Hmmm, this I do not know, my emir – perhaps your question should be put to Isis. That is what my mother does when she doesn’t know the answer to a thing.”
“And does Isis answer?”
“They say the ancient ones seldom do,” he shrugs, “But my mother says prayer helps anyway.” He puts his hand on his hips in what I assume is a fair approximation of his mother. “Organize your thoughts, Keyon. A confused heart cannot find clarity.” He wags his finger at me, “Often the answer is within, but your mind is too troubled to see what is in front of you.” He leans towards my chair and whispers, “My mother prays a lot on account of me.”
I chuckle, “I imagine she would.”
He stands up straight again and shrugs, “You are one of us, emir, perhaps Isis will answer a prince.”
I smile, “Perhaps I will give it a try.”
He nods, “My mother says praying never made a thing worse.”
I huff, “Go, enjoy Solstice Eve.”
His young face splits into a grin and he takes off so he can be around the children of Atum in the lion’s den where he wishes for his heart song to be.
I keep drinking and in between bouts of self-pity, my thoughts keep coming back to the conversation with Keyon.
111
Jack – Son of Isis
Deep in my cups I finally work up the courage to give prayer a try, or rather prayer to a new Goddess. I’ve prayed to the Blood King often, but I’m not sure he ever listened. As Keyon says, ‘prayer has never made a thing worse’ – although, strictly speaking, I’m not sure if that’s true.
Either way, I’m out of ideas. I just know I’ve tried my way; I’ve tried it and it didn’t work, and now I have to admit that I fucked up and that I need help.
“Well if I’m going to do this, might as well do it right,” I stand up and stumble as my head swims with the wine.
I take a deep breath turn, and stumble out to the patio, down the stairs and into the private gardens.
Jaevia loved it; the gardens. I hadn’t bothered to notice how beautiful everything is here. I was swimming in too much self-pity to let myself enjoy… anything.
When had I become such a bitter little man?
Under the night sky the barely tamed gardens pull at my heart. A perfect blending of me and the dark life that I live. The purple and blue hues of the flowers seem magical under the silver moonlight. The green grass darker and more mysterious. The gentle bubbling of the stream that runs between the ponds relaxes my muscles. The smell of life and death mixing to be a perfectly balanced bouquet.
The music from the den grows quieter and quieter as I walk deeper into the gardens, until I’m left in this gorgeous bounty of Gaia, under the night sky, completely alone – with the exception of my demons, who never seem far.
I remember being a young boy and loving to ride out into the wild fields and lay in the tall grass beneath the sun. I remember that being a happy time for me. I remember loving to walk in the forests of Calloway, the smell of the earth and of life – I remember that. Why do I shun those experiences now?
When did I start to cling to death so relentlessly? When did I begin to shun the wild outdoors for the comforts of a castle? Was it when I died my first death? Did I shun mother nature because the life here reminded me so much of what I had lost when I became one with the undead?
Was it losing Angelica?
Was it losing myself in a fight to survive a life that wasn’t worth living?
When had I stopped being… happy?
When had I stopped trying to be?
When had I stopped believing I deserved it?
My drunken stroll brings me to the largest tree in the gardens. Perhaps it is the alcohol, but I feel something, both familiar and strange as I stand at the base of the tree.
I look around again, nervously, to make sure no one is here. I know I’m about to make a complete fool of myself... I kneel at the base of the tree, not sure if this is the right way to do this or not.
“Gaia?” I ask and feel horribly idiotic. “Or Isis, or Mother Earth, or whatever you want to be called.”
Are things so bad in my life I’ve resorted to talking to trees?
“Gaia, I don’t know if you’re there…” I sigh, “well, I know you’re there. You’re the mother of the earth for Christ’s sake.”
I run a hand through my hair nervously.
“Listen, I don’t know how to do this, I just don’t… but my name is Jack… or rather Capaneus Nicholas Jackson de la Fountaine Ramzia Knightley. I’m not really one of the children of Isis… well I am, but I come from the bad side, the side that betrayed everyone, so I’m not even sure you’d listen to me. But I’m here anyway… talking to a fucking tree because I’m just that fucking desperate.” I sigh again.
I search for the courage to be honest with my Goddess, which is equivalent to being honest with myself.
“I’m a coward,” I finally wh
isper… admitting it out loud.
“Goddess, I am a coward. All he wanted to do was love me… that’s it, but I was too goddamn afraid to let anyone in that deeply. I was afraid of what he would find… what I would find…”
The tears begin to fall, for no reason at all…
“I was afraid to believe I could have real love because I have sinned so much… so much I choke on the bitter ashes of it with every breath. I’m so afraid of his kind of love, afraid that I will trust it, and get used to it and rely on it and then one day… it will be gone again. I can’t survive that, of Goddess, I can’t survive that.” I take in a shaky breath. “And so, I destroyed it before it could destroy me…”
“But it was a mistake, Goddess it was a mistake and now I would give anything to take it back, to have him look at me like he once did, to touch… touch me like he once did. Goddess help me please.” My wishes and hopes become too big to speak, they fill my heart, squeezing it painfully… I pray she can see my heart, hear it and understand it.
I prostrate myself on the ground, laying full out on the thick grass in front of the large tree, I stretch my arms out to either side of me and I pray for guidance, understanding… but mostly forgiveness.
She’d sent a son of Ra to protect me and to love me… and I squandered it all because I didn’t know how to love the gifts I was given without the bitter heart of a broken man.
“Help me please,” I beg her, I just beg her… I’ve always been good at begging.
“You know, she really doesn’t work like that.”
I look up in shock and scramble to sit up, horribly embarrassed someone has seen me like that.
A pretty woman dressed in all white sits at the base of the tree leaning against it, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her hair is done in long locs with silver beads woven into them, a gentle smile on her face. Something almost ethereal about her, is she one of the Isis’s?
She almost seems familiar.
I clear my throat nervously, “Hi?”
“Hello, Capaneus Nicholas Jackson de la Fountaine Ramzia Knightley,” she smiles again.
“You can call me Jack,” I say for a lack of anything better to say.
“Very well, then Jack, why do you ask the Goddess for answers you already have?”
Oh god, she heard it all. I’m sure a gentle blush creeps up to my face as I look away.
“I’m not looking for answers, I’m looking for… for…”
“Ah, the confused heart… you want her to tell you what you want?”
“No!” I shout, “I know what I want! I want Lucien!” I snap my mouth closed, not sure where that burst of anger came from… or rather that burst of honesty.
“Do you believe he’s hiding in the tree?”
I give her a confused look, “No.”
“Then why are you here, looking for a thing that you know is not?” She returns my confused look.
“I know where he is, I need help…”
“Ah, and you think this tree will help?” She turns and knocks on the tree, “Hello, tree? He needs your help.”
I stand up frustrated and begin pacing, “I was only trying to pray! Everyone says I’ve lost my power because the power of the moon isn’t mine; it was a curse. I’m supposed to be this child of Gaia so I thought… well if the moon goddess won’t answer me… maybe… maybe she would.”
“And what would you like for her to say?”
“I don’t know?!”
“Yes, you do.”
“I want her to tell me how to fix it!” Another burst of honesty.
She laughs lightly, “Is love now like a bookshelf? It comes with detailed instructions on how to put it together?”
“Of course not, I’m looking for a little advice, some guidance, some goddamn divine intervention – whatever it takes to get him back!”
She hums a bit in her throat, “I see that you are truly in dire straits, so I will help… have you tried to get him back?”
“Yes!” I shout, “I’ve apologized, I’ve tried to talk to him, he won’t listen!”
“After a man burns down his house, he cannot weep at the ruins and pray to the goddess to undo what is done. That is not how she works.”
“Well how does she work?!”
“She doesn’t, you do. Gaia only provides all that we need.”
I start to yell again, but something makes me pause… “If you burn down your house, it is up to you to build a new one?”
“Ahh, I believe he understands,” she nods towards the tree approvingly.
I ignore her crazy on the count of her genius, “I have to fix it, she can’t, because I’m the one that burned down the house – she can’t meddle in the realm of mortals… she can only give me what I need to build a new house, wood, stone…”
My mind wanders as I begin my pacing again.
“I destroyed my marriage, what did Gaia provide me? What has she already given me?!” I stop my pacing to stare at the odd woman.
She straightens her dress a bit, “You are a child of Isis, this is true. There is a gentleness to your soul, but also steel. Never be afraid of the steel when it serves you well.”
“You use steel to make swords… to kill, to fight… fight… Jaevia… Jaevia said that… When she cheated on him, broke his heart, when she destroyed their love – she said she knew she’d have to… fight for it. She’d have to fight to win Lucien back and … build something new with him.”
I turn away, now knowing what I have to do. I was weeping at the ruins of our love, wanting it to just fix itself – but it won’t, it’s not possible. What I can do… what I have to do, is build something new, I have to fight for him. I have to show him how much I love him! He doesn’t want words! Words don’t mean shit to man like Lucien, it’s actions, its laying it all on the goddamn line for the ones you love. It’s no holds bars, it’s in for a penny and in for the goddamn pound. It is all, or it is nothing.
Yes, I know what I have to do….
I start to rush back to the palace but turn back to the tree to thank the woman… there’s no one there.
A warm breeze flows over my flesh as I realize who it was. She would understand having to fight for her love, she would understand the burden and joy of loving an Atum…
Desmona understood.
112
Jack - Fight for Luey
The entire world is a blur as my feet move and I follow my spirit and the drums on the air that sing of my heart song. I pass others in the stone and marble palace, gilded with gold and jewels and none of it means a thing if I cannot call Atum’s most precious gift my own.
Smiling faces laughing; people loving, and drinking, and dancing – all wild with abandon on this their solstice eve. All of them sharing their lives and their joys with the ones they love the most. I belong with him; I belong with Lucien. I should have been here for him! I should not have let my stepfather steal another ounce of my happiness, but I had, my goddess I had, and I burned it all down just so I could go on living in a comfortable pain rather than facing an uncomfortable truth.
But no more, all the gods and goddesses of every land and space be my witness, no fucking more.
I hurry to the lion’s den. The large open chamber in the heart of the lion wing that the men and women of Atum take their meals in or have small battles of strength and agility.
The massive doors are open, and the room is bursting with bodies and life, gilded in red torch light. Dark skin over rippling muscles, legs, and arms, and breasts, and oval faces with mysterious eyes. I can smell the magic on the air… all of it smells like Lucien.
Even the relief art chiseled into the golden clay walls seem to come alive, reenacting battles or stories of love and triumph. Perhaps it is odd, but they elevate the stories of love just as highly as they do the stories of conquest and battle.
The people of Atum, Isis and Ishtar – lead with their hearts, all of them – they follow their heart song and the only thing more precious than their relationship w
ith their gods is their relationships with one another.
Of course Lucien is a man of deep feeling, look at where he comes from. Everything is about the connection of flesh and soul, to one another, between each other.
He had no wish to share his body if I would not share my heart… and what did I do? I stirred his base instinct; I poked at it, and prodded it, and played with it as if it was such a thing to be toyed with in the first place.
Lucien comes from the first men… the first men to walk upon the earth, the first to be cursed with rage, the first to only know of peace with love.
He never hid what he needed, he never minced words with what exactly he wanted; he’s always been a simple man and wanted to be loved simply. Not for being the vengeance of god, or the power of Atum, but for Lucien – the horribly earnest, hardworking man who only wishes a good meal, a warm hearth, and a family to love at the end of each day.
By god, if he’s not worth fighting for, who is?
I slip into the lion’s den unnoticed. The party has been going on for some time, and most everyone is deep in their cups.
As I suspected the space is filled, packed to the brim. If either to be around Lucien or because Atum’s party is the best Solstice eve party, I’m not sure – probably a bit of both. Long tables filled with food and drink as people laugh. The center of the room cleared for people who wish to dance. And god do they dance, the rhythm of the drums echo in flesh as they grind skin to skin, needing to meld their bodies into one living thing, one being. All beings search for connection, this is the way they express their desire – all primal, all heat, all sex. Even I notice that gender identities don’t seem to matter, women dancing with women, men dancing with men, two women one man, four men one woman. It’s about the connection, the joy for them. Perhaps it is amazing our possibilities when we stop trying to live in a construct and start following our heart songs.
But there is only one song my heart wishes to sing tonight and that is of a love that finally beat the odds, I hope so anyway. I don’t need to look for him, I already know where he is, I can feel him. His heart and soul are tied to mine, even now, even when everything is so fucking wrong, I still know that he is mine and I am his and she is ours and we are above all others.
