"Are you alright, Your Majesty?"

Jupiter slowly shook her head from left to right, a movement so small that only Caine was able to pick up on it. In turn, Jupiter felt more than heard the tinniest growl emanating from behind her. Neither of them were okay. Neither of them could do much about it.

So much for being an all-powerful Queen.

The news had come while they'd been spending an otherwise idyllic afternoon at Stinger's: finally, after weeks of searching they'd uncovered Balem's body beneath the refinery's wreckage. At least, that's what the crew had assumed at first glance. It took them a few minutes to realize that the mangled thing they'd found was still breathing.

"How does anyone survive that?" Jupiter had asked, head planted between her knees. Perhaps not the most politically sound position—showing such weakness in front of her… subordinates? Employees? Space-staff?—but it was either that or throw up all over Kiza's shoes. Her friend and her friend's adorable sandals didn't deserve that. Besides, they all knew what Balem had done to Jupiter. No judgment there.

"Implants, Your Majesty." Stinger had said, his face lined with anger if not surprise. "Most Entitled have them. The inserts that connect us to our weaponry? Same basic concept. Only these activate when the body goes into shock, releasing a steady supply of ReGenX into the bloodstream. So long as the Entitled doesn't die on impact then it's a near failsafe for survival." Stinger let out… not a hiss. A buzz; like an angry bee's wings slicing through the air. "Lord Balem didn't hit bottom then."

"And he had enough ReGenX hoarded in his implant to survive the last few weeks," Caine added, his own frame shaking.

"Is that the implant you've been pressuring me to get?" Jupiter asked the floor.

Caine's body stilled. "I… yes, Your Majesty. It is."

"Fantastic." Jupiter had risen then, pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail. She'd snatched at the mountain of reports pertaining to this resurrection.

"Well, at least we know it works. So what exactly are we going to do about it?"

It turned that there was actually very little for them to do. Jupiter had assumed that Balem's survival would mean the return of his wealth which, frankly, she could have cared less about. Credits and a wardrobe of pretentious clothes? Let him have it. The only things she'd planned to fight for were his seeded planets and, oddly enough, Chicanery. The rat splice had come running to Jupiter after Balem's supposed demise, essentially begging her for a position—if you could term clipped words and expressions layered with complex meanings as 'begging.' Jupiter had been fully ready to send him on his way when Caine, looking very much as if it pained him to do so, quietly reminded her of two things: that few had been capable of saying no to Balem Abrasax… and that a splice without a master was a pitiful thing indeed. All it had taken then was for Jupiter to note the sweat stains growing underneath Chicanery's arms for her to reluctantly say yes.

All things considered, she'd grown kinda fond of him.

So yes, Jupiter would have fought… except there wasn't anything to fight for.

"The refinery's surveillance was unparalleled, Your Majesty." Chicanery had said. He'd pulled a face then, still grieving for its loss. "I fear that it had to be. Harvesting is a lucrative but seedy business. All sorts will attempt to, ah… water down the ReGenX, if you will. To increase profit. Not that your family has ever attempted such a thing! Still. Standard procedure dictates that manufacturers record the process, so that they can defend the creation of their product in a court of law. The refinery's systems were particularly specialized given… well. Given Earth's crop." Chicanery sighed, not liking Jupiter's darkening expression. "What it means, Your Majesty, is that we recorded your entire confrontation with Lord Balem, including the part where he confessed to murdering Lady Seraphi."

"Plus trying to kill her again, sorta. Trying to kill you," Kiza had added. She shrugged. "An Entitled and a Recurrence? He's screwed."

Chicanery grimaced. "A crude way of putting it, but yes. Lord Balem is very screwed."

So here they were.

Jupiter shifted uncomfortably on her throne, a chill running through her that had nothing to do with the ship's cooling systems. 'Court of law' had been going a bit far. There were no true courts in this empire—at least none that resembled a democracy. No, as far as her people were concerned, the Abrasaxs were the only law the universe had or needed. So what were they to do when an Abrasax broke the one decree that they couldn't overlook, the killing of an Entitled?

Why, send him to the rest of course.

Kalique had looked the very picture of grief that day, tearfully claiming that they couldn't possibly force her to punish her dear, elder brother. In truth she'd been snatching up what hadn't directly passed to Jupiter with one hand while blowing her nose with the other. Titus was no better. At least he hadn't bothered to fake any tears. He'd shrugged before the media, cooling claiming that the Abrasax Balem had harmed should be the one to declare a sentence. Since the death of his mother was largely the reason behind this fiasco in the first place, her recurrence would just have to have that power instead. The fact that Jupiter received an obscene number of flowers two days later with a note—Consider this an almost wedding present—made her think that Titus was really planning to enjoy seeing Balem prostrated before her.

Jupiter just wished she was half as excited as he was.

"It will be quick," Caine murmured. In the long minutes they'd been waiting he'd slowly been edging closer, offering a solid comfort at her side. "They will punish him and then you'll order his execution. Simple. I can get you back to Earth in time for your family dinner."

Jupiter gave something approaching a smile. The thought off food made her stomach churn though.

"Caine…" There were guards lining each side of the throne room and Chicanery stood just a few feet away. Jupiter lowered her force to a just breath, relying on Caine's ears to pick up her words.

"What if I can't kill him?"

"Your Majesty doesn't need to kill him personally."

"No, I—" Jupiter swallowed. "I mean what if I don't want him executed at all?"

Caine's eyebrows jumped. It was the most shocked expression she'd seen on him in a while.

"You… don't?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Jupiter hissed.

"… you nearly beat him to death with a pipe."

Okay. True. Though defending herself from an oedipal-psycho out to kill her in turn was a little different from this. Sitting on a throne. Decreeing who lived and who died. It made Jupiter feel like a god.

I create life… and I destroy it.

It made Jupiter feel ill.

Some of this must have read on her face because Caine broke tradition and dropped straight to his knees beside her. Only Chicanery seemed to notice, giving an anxious twitch to her right.

"Think about what he did," Caine said, low and urgent. "Your family. Earth. He should have died when the refinery fell. That's all you're doing now. Finishing a job."

Jupiter gave a shaky nod as Caine rose quickly to his feet again.

The doors were opening.

The hall was ridiculously long and it gave Jupiter plenty of more time to think as Balem and his guards approached. She knew she had to get her emotions under control. Stinger had confirmed that Balem had healed fully in the time since his rescue and—captured or not—he was a danger. The last thing she needed was his flouncy hands and smug expression goading her into doing something she'd later regret, manipulating her. She'd keep her head down, her voice indifferent, and get this over with in time for dinner. Just like Caine had said.

Except… as they got closer Jupiter realized that they weren't marching Balem towards her.

They were dragging him.

At first Jupiter couldn't tell why. Half standing from her seat, she stared at the approaching figures: two winged guards, three times the size of anyone else there, tugging a limp Balem between them. Even with his head bowed and a good distance still between them, Jupiter could tell that this was a far cry from the Balem she knew. He was naked, his hair lank and covering his face, his body shaking so hard that they could all hear the rattle of his chains as they brushed the glass floor. Jupiter couldn't see any injuries though. There was just a red sheen to his body, almost like a rash.

Then the smell hit.

Jupiter threw both hands over her mouth and nose, gagging horribly. Beside her Caine paled until his skin became nearly translucent.

"Apologies, Your Majesty." One of the guards called. It jerked Balem when his legs tangled and Jupiter thought she heard a small cry come from the form. "We'd meant to hose him down a bit more before bringing him to you but he kept passing out under the spray. Didn't want to present you with a drowned corpse, now did we?"

The other guard chuckled—or the approximation of a chuckle, like rocks tumbling through a dryer—and Jupiter shakily sat back down. She jumped when Chicanery appeared at her shoulder. Even naturally pale as he was, he now made Caine's current pallor look like a tan.

"Your Majesty—" he began.

"What is—?" Jupiter gagged again when her words forced that smell back down her throat. It was feces and urine, no doubt of that, but overlaid with a sweetness that made her whole body tighten.

"Here." Caine returned—when had he left?—and gently pressed a patch into the bare skin of her arm. Jupiter gasped in relief as a purple mist sprung up and she breathed in a lavender scent. Chicanery greedily leaned into the field to breathe there as well.

"Your Majesty," he coughed. "It's scaphism."

"Dumb it down for the human girl."

"Torture," Caine said simply. He stood outside Jupiter's little space air freshener thing and his hands were twitching like he too wanted to cover his nose. "It's an old form. I think you've used it on Earth. The Punished is set between two hollowed trees, everything but their chest exposed, and left to rot."

"Rot?" Jupiter pressed.

Chicanery grimaced. "That sweetness you smell is honey, Your Majesty. It's painted on the Punished to attract all manner of insects which, depending on what is indigenous to the planet, may sting, bit, burrow, or actively feed on the victim. They are also forced to ingest a mixture of milk to… stimulate the bowls. The waste attracts more insects until…"

"They're eaten alive," Caine finished. "Or they die of disease. Or sunstroke, if they're lucky. Starvation, if the captor decides to stop the feedings. There are a lot of options."

"Oh."

Jupiter could see it now. The guards had nearly traversed the hall and the 'rash' along Balem's body was clearly no rash at all. It was a massive patchwork of stings, scratches, bites, and sunburn. As he came closer she could make out portions of his flesh that had literally been eaten away. A spot on his back seemed to move—like something was still buried under there—and Jupiter prayed that it was just a trick of the light.

"All your technology," she whispered. "And this is what you do to people?"

"He got off easy. Couldn't have been out there for more than two days." Even Caine didn't sound convinced though.

"Your Majesty!"

Jupiter jerked when the first guard hailed her. It tossed Balem directly before her throne.

She looked down at the quaking figure. Balem had yet to lift his head, but he seemed to be rubbing his cheek against the floor, emitting a rhythmic whine from the very back of his throat. It had really been the perfect choice, Jupiter thought. Not the torture itself—for she would bet Balem that had never experienced pain like that in all his thousands of years, the first hour alone must have broken him—but the humiliation of it all was genius. To take a man clothed in starlight and strip him bare; a man who crossed the expanse of space and confine him to a log; a near immortal left to stew in his own waste; a so-called god who viewed all other creatures as beneath him… and allowing those same creatures to feast on the young, flawless flesh that he coveted. Forget the first hour. Balem probably broke in five minutes flat.

"Did he scream?" Jupiter found herself asking. The question was more of a horrified certainty, but the guards took it as genuine interest.

"Oh yes, Your Majesty," the second one said, all eagerness and fluttering wings. "For a while at least. Voice gave out at the end of the first day, but I bet you I can get it back if you'd like."

She'd thought the brown leather about his waist was a belt. Instead the guard unfurled a whip as long as its wielder was tall. It appeared to be normal leather, until a button along the handle shot out a thousand tiny spikes. Jupiter didn't need anyone to tell her that the green she saw shimmering along the tips was poison.

"Not enough to kill, Your Majesty," the guard reassured. "It's a potent cocktail though. Adds an extra zing to the proceedings if you will, along with a dose of paralysis. Unless Your Majesty would prefer him writhing. Your wish is my command." The guard turned a dial and the lime green faded to a mossier coloring.

"My wish," Jupiter said slowly. "Is to know why you started without me."

Both guards stilled. "Your Majesty?"

"Why did you torture him without me present?"

They looked between one another and then the first guard grinned a toothy, perhaps sheepish grin. "Our sincerest apologies. We were simply warming him up for you. I assure you, Your Majesty, there is still much to we can do for your entertainment."

But Jupiter's expression was ice cold, her body still as marble upon her throne. To all present she looked exactly like a queen who was furious that they'd denied her the beginnings of this pleasure.

Caine knew her better.

He passed behind her and as he did he turned his head, speaking so that only she could hear:

"Twenty-five lashes, Jupiter. At least."

The sound of her name made her eyes sting—almost as much as the number itself.

Jupiter rose slowly from her seat, choosing to ignore that her legs had turned to water. She ignored the trembling figure at her feet too.

"I am displeased," she said and both guards winced. "You have 'warmed him up' enough. I had hoped to engage in… other activities, but you've made that impossible." Just behind Chicanery two other guards shared lewd glances and Jupiter did her best not to scream. "Give him twenty-five lashes and then leave me. I want time to play with him alone."

"Of course, Your Majesty." The second guard bowed, but not before Jupiter caught the look of disappointment on his scaly face.

The first gazed at Balem like he was a particularly tasty piece of meat. "And when should we return for your sentencing?" He asked.

Shit, shit, shit.

Jupiter tried waving a languid hand. "I'll send a servant to fetch you. I don't know how long I want with him."

"Understood, Your Majesty."

While this was going on the second guard had approached Balem and pulled out a series of disks. Placing them on the floor, Jupiter watched as a set of metal poles rose up, complete with manacles at the top and spaced about five-feet apart. The guard grabbed Balem by the scruff of his neck and strung him between the poles with as much care as you'd chuck laundry onto a line. When he stepped back Jupiter's stomach dropped.

Oh shit.

She'd thought—hoped—that Balem had passed out during their conversation. He'd certainly been still enough. Now though he hung, just as limp, but with a gaze peaking out beneath a fringe still matted with honey. Anger, fury, madness… any of these Jupiter could have dealt with.

Begging was another matter entirely.

For Balem's eyes were begging, as surely as the guard was now lifting his whip. Jupiter wasn't this creep's mom, but hell, she'd have to have been carved out of stone to ignore that look. Whatever remnants of Balem's dignity that survived his fall, torture had eaten it away along with his flesh.

"Puh—puh—pluhees—" Balem's lips were almost too swollen to speak. Jupiter knew what he was saying though. They all did.

"Would Your Majesty like to count?" the guard asked sweetly.

Jupiter had to turn her head away. "… One," she whispered.

The crack of the whip was followed by a high-pitched squeal. So much for Balem's voice being gone. Jupiter didn't need to look at the guard to know he was raising his feathers in a satisfied preen.

"Two."

Jupiter's eyes found Chicanery's as Balem gave another hideous cry. The lawyer was standing resolute, though whether it was because he'd grown used to seeing such displays or because he actually enjoyed seeing his former master like this, Jupiter didn't know. Caine for his part was watching her. He might have hated Balem as much as any splice, but he hated his queen's reaction more. Caine's gaze jumped to the prostrate form guiltily.

You have to watch, Jupiter.

"T-three."

Jupiter managed to look at the floor that time and her jaw clenched at the flecks of blood there. When she spotted bits of skin mixed with the droplets she heaved, quickly turning it into a cough.

"Is the scent field too strong, Your Majesty?" Caine asked.

"Yes… yes a bit."

"Allow me to adjust it for you."

Jupiter wanted to kiss him when he leant over her arm and fiddled uselessly with the patch. His broad shoulders blocked the scene through lash four.

When Caine stepped back though there was nothing left but for Jupiter to look.

Balem was openly crying now, tears and snot running heavily down his face. She hardly noticed though, what with his back in the state it was in. Even turned from her Jupiter could see the flaps of skin hanging in ribbons along his spine. The skin around his wounds seemed to quiver and Jupiter could just make out rivets of green spreading out along his limbs like veins. Whatever poison the guard was using was obviously causing pain throughout Balem's whole body, as if his back weren't enough on its own. She watched his chest heaving, jumping up and up like a jack-rabbit, and Jupiter knew with certainty that if this went on she wouldn't need to call for an execution. Balem had been strung up crucifixion style and at the rate he was succumbing to shock, he'd quickly suffocate himself.

"Five," the guard whispered, ignoring Jupiter entirely. She didn't know how they were only on lash five. Balem's back already looked like raw meat. There was nowhere else to strike.

Except that the guard seemed to realize this as well. With sickening relish he pivoted and lashed the whip across Balem's front. Jupiter realized what was about to happen a second before the spines cut into his genitals.

"ENOUGH!" Jupiter shrieked.

Her own shout overlapped with Balem's scream and their chest heaved in time. Jupiter was so focused on his torn form that it took her a moment to notice the stares.

"Your Majesty?" the guard questioned. The others shifted uncomfortably.

"That is…" Jupiter sucked in a fortifying breath. "I grow bored of this." She said, imbuing as much indifference into the words as she could. "You've done enough. Leave the rest for me."

"… as it pleases, Your Majesty." The guard's expression soured. He passed by Balem and as he did his spiked tail whipped out, catching Balem's pale ankle dangling inches off the floor. It tore the skin about two inches across and that tiny cut—so insignificant in the larger scheme of it all—nevertheless made Jupiter seethe. She made sure to turn the full force of her glare on the guard as he attempted to hand her the whip.

He spluttered when she wouldn't take it. "Your Majesty?"

"Didn't you hear?" Jupiter hissed. "I said I want to be alone with him."

"But—"

"Out!" Jupiter swept her hands violently to encompass the whole hall when the rest didn't move. "All of you, you heard me, GET OUT."

At that they tripped over feet, wings, and tails to reach the doors. Jupiter stood tall amongst the chaos until the last had run the length of the hall. Then she scrambled down from her throne on shaking legs. Only Chicanery and Caine remained to see her stumble.

"I must say," Chicanery said faintly. "That was perhaps the most benevolent use of the Abrasax temper that I have ever seen."

"Get him down, get him down," Jupiter ordered.

Caine was already there. He snapped the chains around Balem's wrists with ease and caught the lithe body when it fell. Balem was having none of it though. With a strength and a scream that shocked Jupiter he tore himself from Caine's arms, hit the glass floor, and managed to roll back towards the supports. One hand grasped weakly at the metal beam, tugging, almost as if Balem were trying to hide himself behind the thin strip.

"Doh, doooh," he growled.

"Don't," Jupiter finished. "Don't touch him."

Not knowing what else to do, three of them stood in silence while the fourth heaved against the floor, alternating between whimpering and bleeding. It took Jupiter an embarrassingly long time to get her own breathing under control and to finally signal to her advisors.

"Right. Okay." Jupiter spoke softly, even though Balem's eyes had glazed over; he didn't appear to be seeing them anymore. "Caine? Do me a favor? Head back to Earth and… and tell my family I'll be missing dinner."

Immediately his wings folded flat against his back, allowing him to hide them under any decent-sized jacket. He produced a well-worn cap for his ears and a thick choker to cover the brand on his neck. Jupiter tried not to think about how the accessory, plain as it was, reminded her of Balem's high collars. The Entitled's own neck was bare now, long and lithe as a swan's. Irrevocably bent.

"Your Majesty." Jupiter jumped when Caine put a hand to her elbow. His eyes were a roar of emotions now, but Jupiter thought that one mixture in particular—perplexity infused with pride—dominated. She'd seen it enough in the months they'd known each other. It was the look he gave her whenever she did something not quite queenly (which happened a lot) but was probably a good thing nonetheless. Like when Jupiter defended the many splices around her as company rather than slaves, or chose boots over slippers because they were easier to run in, or treasured her cousin's crappy Christmas gift even though there was a staggering amount of wealth waiting above her head, right among the stars…

Or how she might deliver mercy upon the one person least likely to deserve it.

Not that Caine said any of this aloud.

"I'll have Stinger prepare a bedroom," he said instead.

Jupiter understood his line of thinking. She wouldn't be able to face her family and their ignorance for a day at least, but she was already shaking her head.

"I don't think I can stand the smell of honey right now," she admitted.

Caine sucked in a breath. "Of course, Your Majesty. A hotel then? You'll… ?" Want to be on Earth.

Jupiter nodded. "Yes. That's great. But try to pick something within my price range, yeah?"

The joke fell flat. Not that Jupiter expected anything less with Balem curling into a motionless ball behind them.

With a final stroke to her arm Caine activated his boots and was sailing out across the hall. Jupiter turned to Chicanery who was already typing away at a padd.

"Mr. Night, you'll—"

"Find a way to pull you out of this legal hole, Your Majesty? Spare Lord Balem an execution without losing you standing across the entire galaxy?" His twitching face snapped up, one hand still tapping away. "That is what you want, yes?"

"You disapprove?"

"It's not my place to approve or disapprove," he simpered. "Merely advise." As Chicanery passed her by though, Jupiter saw him nod—a subtle acceptance. It was probably the closest thing to a real opinion that she'd ever get out of him.

Within a minute he too was gone.

Which just left Jupiter alone with Balem.

He was still curled in on himself, looking for all the world like some beaten, feral beast rather than the god-like entity she'd grown used to. He'd curled himself into a similar position when she'd struck him down with that pipe, only that time he'd lifted his head, spewing words when blows eventually failed him. If Jupiter thought that seeing him reduced to such a state permanently would feel fulfilling… she was very, very wrong.

"I did community service once," she said softly. Balem flinched. Slowly, Jupiter straightened and pulled the silk shawl from her shoulders, stepping lightly towards the bowl in the corner of the room.

"This was back in high school," she continued, still almost-whispering. "It was a requirement for everyone. Go out and complete… ten hours? I don't remember. Not too much. But I got assigned to a retirement home and I absolutely hatedit there. I was already helping my mother—" Balem flinched again, "—out with the houses after school, so it wasn't the labor that bugged me. It was the people. It felt wrong there. Not because they were old, and not because they needed help either. It was because they were old and they needed help and they just wouldn't accept that."

Jupiter took the bowl in hand, approaching Balem once more. When she was just a few feet away she set everything on the floor and breathed a few times through her nose. Then she dipped the edge of her shawl into the ReGenX.

"I wanted to help them," Jupiter said. "With bathing, eating, walking… whatever it was. But their pride always got in the way. Some of them outright resented it—resented me—for trying." She help up the dripping fabric and Jupiter's eyebrow rose. "Are you really going to let me compare you to a group of stubborn Earthlings?"

When she edged even closer Balem's whole body went stiff and then he gasped, hyperventilating through the pain. He shook, a few tears still escaping down his cheeks, and Jupiter thought she could hear the grind of his teeth. Balem didn't move though. Not away. Probably he couldn't anymore. Whatever the reason, Balem held still as Jupiter pressed the ReGenX into the torn skin of his back.

"There you go," she murmured, unconsciously. "Easy, easy."

It was slow going. Jupiter could only cover a few inches at a time and she had to return her shawl to the bowl continuously, filling the ornate piece with blood and tattered fragments. She almost wished for one of those spray-cans Stinger kept on hand, but Jupiter didn't think that speed was something they needed right now. Balem was slowly relaxing under her hands as his back was knit together, and then as his arms lost their hideously red hue, then his legs. By the time Jupiter ran the fabric over his genitals, Balem was healed enough to gaze at her under hooded eyes. By the time she finally reached his swollen lips, Balem was almost lounging on the floor beside her.

The first thing he said was, "It cost you thousands of lives to heal me."

Jupiter reared back, something like fire roaring up behind her eyes. "Not very smart of you to remind me of that now," she snapped. "Not in the position you're in."

"Position?" Balem tilted his head, not quite looking at her. "What more can you do? You've already condemned me to a life of torture, have you not? You've denied me my execution. So tell me, Mother." Balem listed forward, staring at Jupiter's feet. "How much longer before you grow tired of our game? How much ReGenX will you waste in putting me back together?"

Jupiter stumbled away but Balem seemed not to notice. Or not to care. (Or perhaps he wasn't surprised). The longevity of his words sent a prickle down Jupiter's spine and she sat back up with a new, frightening determination.

"I'm not going to torture you," she said. Not anymore. "And I'm not your mother."

Looking away, Jupiter pressed the intercom wired into her neck.

"Caine? Yeah, I—… yeah. I'm okay. Really. Listen, get another room at that hotel, okay? We're gonna have a… guest. Right. No yeah, I will. Seeya."

Signing off, Jupiter turned back to Balem. He was still poised on the floor, but the position now showed itself to be just as much of a shield as his curled ball had been. Balem's hands were shaking erratically against his thighs and he had his chin tilted upwards in a childishly defensive pose. He wasn't staring through Jupiter anymore, but his eyes were filling up with a cautious reverence that worried her just as much.

With a sigh Jupiter carefully wrung out her shawl and draped the dry half across Balem's shoulders. Leaning over him, she made sure to tuck the ends safely beneath his arms.

"I'm not your damn mother," Jupiter told him.

And as she worked, she heard it: "… I know." The words were barely a whisper, far softer than anything that had come from his ravaged throat before.

"Mother never did anything like this."