Jaw
For, though he loved her, he had spoken against her.
The long while that they had been lovers, their bodies and hearts crashing together, had opened her to him. At first he was too frightened, and in awe, to look closely at the self she laid before him. As he became more comfortable inside her, he peeked. Of course a short glance at her true self wasn't enough, love sick fool that he was.
So he really looked. What he saw shook him to his core. His Goddess, his reason for living, was less than celestial. In fact, she was quite human.
His resentment did not hit him like a lightning flash. Instead, it crept through his veins like poison. Every time she issued a decree and was blindly followed, every sacrifice lain before her in the good faith of her followers, every man that fought and died to secure her territory sent little pulses in his blood. Liar. Liar. Liar.
He would have worshiped her, in so many ways, in every way, had she been honest.
Instead, when he questioned her, begged her to be honest with the members of her tribe, she simply looked at him sadly. “I cannot admit what is not true. You would be wise to keep your delusions to yourself, lest I be forced to impose my wrath upon you. Leave my bed. I had thought you a man, when you are just a little boy, lost in his dreamworld.”
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For many moons he continued to reside in her land, serve her from a distance, live as his neighbors did. During ceremonies he would see her gazing at him, always so sadly, until he caught her eye. Then her eyes became cold, showing no emotion for him, or anyone, at all.
Things could have continued on this way for even longer, but she forced his hand. Hard times had fallen upon the tribe, and they had not had enough rain for the season to yield enough food for the tribe. Her people had begged of her to ask the Gods to intervene on their behalf.
She readily assented, eager to keep her people happy. She went off to journey, commune with her Gods, get her people the help that they needed. She promised that when she returned, she would have the way to bring the rains with her.
She returned several days later, and though no one else seemed to notice, she appeared to have aged years in the days she was gone. She announced that the council would convene that evening, and the tribe would know the answer from her Gods, what she required from them to appease her and her Gods. She made eye contact with no one.
When the evening arrived, and the community had settled before the council arc , she entered. Her posture was stiff, her lips pressed into a thin line. While she met the eyes of many before her with an icy glare, she did not come close to him.
The air was still and silent when she spoke. “We require a sacrifice. The source waters have been neglected for too long, and they require nourishment. Seven children shall journey to the source, and give themselves to the water. Tomorrow.”
His heart clenched, tremors rocking his body as he fought the urge to vomit. He looked around at the silent parents, stunned and too fearful to utter a word. No. This he could not abide.
He stood. With his eyes directly on her he yelled. “Stop this! This must end now! She,” pointing his finger directly at her, “is no Goddess! She is as human as you and I.”
The people stared at him, their gasps and whispers barely noticeable to him as he continued. “Look! She ages as we do, she battles ailments as we do, journeying to hide them from you. This is nothing but an act!”
As the group of men who served as her protectors surrounded him, he broke down, pleading between sobs. “Do not give her your children, please do not send them away!”
He was thrown into a hole that had been carved into the stone ground, left until his hearing.
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He was expected to lower his eyes when she walked into the room.
The council members scrutinized him, their intent to humiliate him, shame him, worn plainly on their faces. He remembered well, this game of powerful and powerless. The thrill of knowing a soul's fate is in your hands.
The head of the council rose before him to speak. “Your punishment is as follows. For the offense of using your words to damage and insult our beloved Goddess, you will receive the mask. Let it be shown to all as they encounter you, words have consequences.”
She looked on as he was shackled to the stone platform. She looked away as the adhesive was poured onto his face, the birch tar burning his skin. He clenched his teeth to fight off the screams of pain, but could not.
When the mask was finally placed on his face, held there by strong hands while the adhesive dried, her eyes were directed towards him, but seemed to look through him. As he waited, refusing to move his gaze from her, he pondered the actions he had taken against her.
His heart ached at the loss of her love. Anger reeled through him, making his head pound. Finally it was sadness that overtook him.
The future was bleak for this tribe, his extended family. Not a soul would ever speak against her again after what they would witness now. The stain on her soul, for he truly believed she had a soul, it's effect on her, that made him saddest of all.
He was left there, shackled, until the morning. Her men finally came, checking that the mask was firmly affixed. They removed the shackles from him, backing away after they did.
There would be no further actions taken against him. He was free to go. He had no will to arise.
For days, he wandered around the village. He had watched as seven crying parents sent their children off to die. His cries were muffled by his inability to open his mouth, but cry he did.
He had time to embrace his loved ones, the ones who would still touch him. He soaked up the last of his sunrises and sunsets. He did not, however, encounter her once.
On what he knew would be his last day, his nude body weak and wracked with spasms, he climbed upon the stone where he had been shackled before and lay down. He would die here, not ashamed of his actions. He closed his eyes and drifted in and out of consciousness, only slightly aware of the crowd that was starting to surround him.
It was then that he heard her, and opened his eyes. She was close, looking upon him, her hand shaking as she reached towards him. Slowly, she climbed up upon the stone slab, on her hands and knees, hovering over him.
She brought her face to his, her eyes only inches from his. In her eyes he saw love, terror and a final sign that he was right. A tear.
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This short story was originally written as a gift for the wonderful javamomma0921, based on a picture she had shared with me, the one in the banner above. The picture haunted me for a while, so it was the perfect prompt when it came time to write for her. Inspired by her awesomeness, it also seemed appropriate that my first original fic would be for her.
I share it here for obvious reasons. No happiness here, just lies, death and regret.
Nita Skarr/Nitareality
