. . .

Devotion

. . .

He is waiting, pacing to and fro across the chamber. There is nothing he can do. He had been wondering about it, but decided against any actions. After all, he is bound to serve all gods, the higher purpose. Even if his loyalty is first and foremost to his Queen, he is bound to serve the gods, forbidden from interfering in their affairs.

Thaos is not certain how he recognises it, but there is an almost palpable change in the air as the otherwise empty room is suddenly filled with a presence.

He turns, kneeling on one knee and bowing his head in utmost respect. "My lady Woedica," he greets.

"Thaos." Her voice fills the chamber, his mind, heart and soul. "I see you've been waiting."

"Forgive me, my Queen." Thaos bows his head lower. "I couldn't..."

"No, it's good that you did nothing." Her voice is harsher now, sharp like an adra knife. "No mortal should interfere with the affairs of the gods, whatever those might be. Your world is ours as well, but our world is not yours, as it should be." She comes closer, so close that the hem of her robes brushes his foot.

Thaos raises his head to look at her. And draws in a shocked breath. Half of Woedica's face is cowered in burns, and there is ash staining her clothes, and her once magnificent hair barely reaches past her shoulders and is charred at the tips.

A bitter grimace twists Woedica's lips as she notices his gaze.

"My Queen, I..."

"You could have done nothing," she snaps, irritated. "How could you help, when half of your powers come from me?" Her expression is haughty, but her tone a bit milder. "They could defeat me, but had no power to kill me, as I have no power to crush them. Balance, isn't it? A perfect design." Her mouth twists again, in a brief smile, as she waves her hand impatiently. "Rise. Subservience doesn't suit you."

Thaos obediently gets up. "What happened?"

"What does it look like?" Woedica asks sourly. "They cast me out, denied my authority." One breath, and she is calm again, calm and calculating – always a tactician, always a strategist. "I lost an argument, not a war. This isn't something that cannot be undone. It will merely take some time." She shrugs, seemingly disinterested.

But the blow to her pride must have been tremendous, and she will never forget or forgive it. And some day, she will pay them back, humiliate them as they humiliated her. But not destroy them. The Wheel bounds them all, albeit it is different for gods and mortals.

Woedica looks at him closely. Her eyes are the same, unharmed; bright, cold like adra and ice. Reaching into the very depths of his soul. Thaos knows what his Queen will find there. What she could always find there.

A small smile blooms on Woedica's lips slowly. She reaches out and touches his face, and Thaos gasps, because her hand is flesh, not just an illusion.

"You had no means to aid me," his Queen mutters, and Thaos can feel her voice like a shudder all the way down his spine. "But you can help me now."

The yearning is not unexpected, but still more sudden than he anticipated, sharp almost like pain. She is doing that to him, he knows. Knows that Woedica can touch his soul, ignite his thoughts. Did she not, he would still do her bidding, she can read it clearly in his mind. And still she does, and the Queen's favour is both a blessing and a curse.

"Blasphemy?" Woedica asks quietly, half in warning, half in jest, perhaps.

"You know well that is impossible, my Queen," he answers calmly.

She says nothing, but a corner of her lips jerks up momentarily. Then finally she moves her hand away from his cheek.

"What is it you need?" he asks curtly, but with respect.

"Energy." She needs to give him no more explanations.

Thaos nods. "I'll talk to my acolytes."

"Energy, not souls," Woedica corrects. "Not yet. I'm too weak for those."

He is confused. "But appearing here in the flesh..."

"It's exhausting, but wearing a mortal body has its advantages. I can rest in sleep." That small smile again, half-mocking, half-inviting. "And it lets me draw from your soul something that can give me strength."

Of course. She would not come to him as a mortal woman if she had no ulterior motive. Is it still ulterior if he expected it? He knows what he is to her, has accepted that lives ago. That does not change his devotion.

If Woedica is reading is thoughts, she gives no sign.

"Go to your acolytes," she says instead. "I will rest now."

He bows his head.

. . .

When he returns with a few adra crystals, all vibrating with energy, Woedica is asleep on his bed, hair is disarray, ash staining the sheets. Thaos reaches out to wake her, but hesitates. Takes a closer look at her face. The burns, all scared already – such is her power even now, in this weakened state – start at her temple and go down her cheek, her neck, disappearing under the neckline of her robes.

Slowly he reaches out to touch her other shoulder. Woedica opens her eyes, glances at the crystals in his other hand.

"You did well. Give your acolytes my blessing."

"I already did."

He waits patiently as she picks up the crystals one by one and holds them to her forehead, until all their shine is gone. When the last piece of adra goes dull, she sighs deeply.

"Ah, that's much better."

Thaos kneels beside the bed, to be at eye level with her. "Is there anything else you wish of me?"

Woedica smiles. "Your devotion. As always." She raises her hand, grasping a few strands of his hair, and pulls him down. "The way you think of me... There is power in that, too."

Thaos smiles sardonically. "Over me?"

"This is a world that can literally be shaped by thought, my faithful servant." Her palm moves over his cheek in a brief caress. "A world where the energy of a soul can change reality. Your thoughts are... like charged adra. Real, tangible power I can feed on."

"Won't telling me this discourage me?" Thaos asks, his eyes closing.

"Will it?" Woedica tugs him closer, and when he looks into her eyes he sees absolute certainty. She knows he will remain loyal, that he accepts their relationship for what it is, and will be grateful for any favour she might bestow upon him. "I may be defeated today..." She pulls him down, and her lips brush across his temple. It is no sign of affection; she does not want him to look at her face. As if that would change anything. "But I am still a goddess," Woedica breaths as he carefully lies down next to her. "I need to be worshipped." He can feel her smile against his brow; her words might be soft, but it is an order, not a question. She demands an offering, and all he can give her – has always given her – is himself.

"Your wish is my command, my Queen," he whispers ardently, and he means it.

"Oh, I know that, Thaos." Woedica's hand tightens in his hair when he presses the first kiss against her neck. "That is why I'm here."

Amusing, he thinks briefly, while he is still able to think clearly at all. He will always do her bidding, and that is why she chose him. And yet she still graces him with her favour so that he would always do her bidding.

. . .

"You may stay," Woedica says later.

He lies down next to her, keeping some distance. Woedica moves over, until she can rest her chin on his shoulder, puts one leg over his, and her hand – on his stomach. For a moment she stays still.

"So devoted," she mutters, her breath hot on his face.

Her hand inches down, burning even through his robe, and she softly bites his ear. Thaos grits his teeth. She still enjoys toying with him, and she plays him like a fiddle, always knowing how to upset an how to calm down.

But he says nothing. Perhaps she needs to see that at least her power over him remains unchanged. Who is he to forbid her that?

"Subservience really doesn't suit you." Woedica's hand ghosts over his stomach, then settles on his ribs. "I watched you, closely. You're usually nothing like that."

"Is this some kind of test?" he asks, in a tired voice.

Woedica laughs. "Whole life is a test, Thaos. Some lives more than most."

He does not reply. She does not need him to; it was not a question.

"Tell me something, my... favourite. How does it feel, to know I treat you as you treat your other lovers? That you are to me what they are to you?" Her hand moves over his heart, fingers pressing into his skin; it a possessive gesture, not one of affection. "Does it change things, when they finally learn the truth? Did it change things for that girl whose soul burned so brightly, the one you actually mourned, even if you managed to deny it?"

"No, it didn't." He does not take the bait. Whether Woedica does really see all that in his soul or simply teases him does not matter. "Nor does it change anything for me. There's nothing that could change." He rolls onto his side and leans on his elbow, rising a little, just enough to be able to look into her eyes. "I knew I am nothing but a servant to you when you first took me to your bed." He shrugs. "That... This... This is not why I swore loyalty to you. It's because I understand what had to be done. And that is why I will never betray that loyalty, whether you'll bestow your favour upon me again or not."

Woedica watches him closely, faint interest written over her features.

"Yes. Yes, you will not betray. That is why I took you to my bed in the first place. Because you were already loyal." She smiles. "A paradox, isn't it?"

Thaos shrugs again. "A wheel. That's what life is. Wheels within a Wheel."

She actually looks at him with genuine appreciation. "Years did make you wiser."

He sighs. "Apparently, not wise enough." He realises what a foolishness his love is, that it is a weakness she exploits and that he lets her, without question. But that knowledge changes nothing.

Woedica laughs. "Wiser, and more bitter."

Again, he does not reply, just keeps looking into her eyes. At her face. Her beauty is tarnished, yes, but her eyes are the same. Her spirit is the same, still sharp, harsh and relentless. Still everything he admired back then. It is such a wonder that he still admires her?

Suddenly it dawns on him that not everything is the same. She needs him to get her power back, and he can help her... or refuse her. And she, while considerably weakened, still has enough power to make him suffer, should she choose to. Perfect, tangled, twisted balance. He will forever remain loyal, and he will always respect her, but she is right – perhaps he does not have to remain on his knees. They will never be equals, as they never have, but perhaps he does not have to always be just a servant.

"You're staring," Woedica says, almost softly. Then she snorts. "Is my new face not to your liking?"

He looks at her almost with the same amazement he looked at her with that first night, same amazement he had been looking at her with for years, in that first life.

"You are still beautiful to me, my lady," he says simply, leans down and finally kisses her on the mouth.

She lets him, but does not kiss him back. And then she bites his lower lip; not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make it painful.

"I don't remember asking you for a kiss."

He bears her stare calmly. If she did not want his touch, she would not permit him to stay.

"Ah." Woedica smiles. "As I said, subservience doesn't suit you. This does." Suddenly she flips them over, hands pressing against his chest, thighs cradling his hips. "But don't forget your place, Thaos. Never forget your place."

He looks into her eyes. "I will not forget my devotion, either."

Woedica's shoulders slump; she really is weak, weaker than he has ever seen her. But her spirit is not broken.

"Sit," she commands, hand nudging his shoulder. "You'll have to hold me up."

"Your wish is..."

"Yes, yes. Make a better use of your mouth." And with that she kisses him, all tongue and teeth and impatience.

She is still his Queen. It would not do to make a queen wait.

He sits, then puts his hands on her hips and waist, and she winds her arms around his neck, leaning against him heavily. Her hair tickles his cheek, and her hot breath tickles his shoulder as she lowers her head and bites his neck. She has never been very gentle. But, as always, he is more than willing to accept anything that she might offer him.

Foolish, Thaos thinks, in his last conscious thoughts. Apparently, he is not wise enough yet. And if she keeps on giving him dreams and then eventually making them come true, he might never get wiser.

. . .

When he wakes up, he is in bed alone, and there are no traces of Woedica except for the faint smell of smoke and smudges of ash on the sheets. Thaos inhales the scent – there is a note of iron and adra, something that Woedica has always reminded him of, something he could always taste in her kisses and on her skin. He suppresses a sigh. Foolishness. That is what it is. But in the end, it always proves stronger than him. He does believe in their cause, he is convinced that is how it must be. Why not allow himself some foolishness, when it changes nothing, when it is no risk, when it, in fact, might even serve the cause?

He sits, reaching for his robe, put it on carelessly, just to be covered, then touches his temple. His head hurts. Woedica has taken just a bit too much of his soul energy; not enough to harm, just enough for a little discomfort that will remind him of her until the end of the day. His lips twist into a mocking smile. Yes, his Queen has peculiar ways of showing... affection to her chosen.

"There is much to do," whispers a voice at his ear.

He can feel a warm air current against his neck, like a breath, and a brief pressure, something like a touch of lips. But she is nowhere to be seen.

"Taking on the body of a mortal is exhausting," Woedica says, out of thin air. "I will remain here, for the moment, but in this form rather than in the flesh."

Thaos nods. "As you wish."

"We must talk, Thaos." She is invisible, but the candle flames tremble as she moves past them. "Like two generals planning a battle."

He raises an eyebrow, but does not question the sudden elevation of his status. "Might I at least be permitted to eat first?" he asks, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Just as much as he can allow without showing disrespect.

Woedica laughs; it seems as if silver bells were tolling in his chamber. Her laughter was always captivating, and it still echoes in his soul with the sound of longing.

"Yes, you may. Eat, bathe, make yourself presentable. What is an hour against the course of ages?" Her tone makes it easy to picture her waving her hand dismissively.

"Will you reveal yourself to the other priests and acolytes?"

"Perhaps. I even have an idea what form I'd like to take on." Cool air moves across his shoulder in a caress. "But have no worry, I will remain at you side, no one else's."

"I never doubted it, my Queen."

"I think, Thaos, that I might grant you the privilege of calling me by name. After all, all my followers do that in prayer, don't they? And your, ah... devotion... surpasses theirs many times."

"I will not fail you, Woedica," he promises, as a faithful to his goddess, as a servant to his Queen... and, for the first time, because he can call her simply by her name, also as a man to a woman he desires and loves more than life. More than many lives.

"I hope so, Thaos. I really do." She makes her words sound both like a promise and a subtle threat. "I'd rather reward you for success than punish you for failure. I'd gladly make a place for you among my most faithful servants, as you wished once." Warm air tickles his neck and ear. "Or perhaps I'll take your soul and keep it with me forever. You would like that, wouldn't you?"

There is no point in lying, not when she can see his thoughts.

"I'd like to rest, my Queen," he confesses. "Just to rest." And if she took his soul, made it part of her, rest he would. No thoughts, no memories, nothing but the majesty of his Queen. Perhaps he would not even be aware of it then... but he would also not be aware of anything else. Rest. Peace. Absolution.

"Help me regain my power, Thaos. And when I sit on my throne again, I will grant you peace."