Disclaimer: I don't own her. The bastards who cancelled Our Show do. The bastards. Rated PG, I guess, for vaguely adult themes. For the 'Defining Moments' challenge.
Given Away
By Andraste
The attendant entering the room surprises Pa'u Zotoh Zhaan out of her meditation - has time passed so quickly, or has the coup not occurred as smoothly as planned? It is no matter. One way or another, they had to find her here eventually.
She has spent her last night in the inner chamber of the House of Sanctity as she spent her first, in prayer and meditation. The many nights between were filled with more trivial pleasures, but spiritual pursuits were always the ostensible reason for her presence here. It is ironically appropriate that she return to them now.
The Goddess has a thousand names, a thousand faces, and tonight Zhaan prays to her in the aspect of Meleen, who guides the dead to their rest. She prays for Bitaal, because she loved him, and loves him still as his empty shell lies cooling on the floor.
"Pa'u Zhaan -" says the acolyte, stopping short as he sees the body.
"Please, Talaras, have no fear," she says, surprised at her own eerie calm, "my crime was not without purpose. By morning, the death of the Spiritual Councilor will be merely one sign of Delvia's liberation." He is startled, and she cannot blame him. No-one expected their leader's favourite student and lover to betray and murder him. She did not expect it herself.
When the dissenters first asked her aid she turned them away, certain that her beloved had the best interests of his people at heart, whatever rules and traditions he might cast asside. They asked her again, when the Peacekeepers came. Although she felt the first stirrings of disquiet within her heart, still she refused. Then those 'security forces' took her father - no rebel, merely an old man who spoke his mind freely - to slave on an asteroid. Bitaal's excuses for holding office long beyond his term, for bringing the black-clad Sebaceans here, began to seem less reasonable. When he thought that he could allay her concerns with a few meaningless reassurances, she saw him clearly for the first time. Her love and respect for his wisdom had made her blind and foolish. Bitaal was arrogant. Overconfident. Dangerous. He had taken his power, and Zhaan, for granted.
"On the contrary," says Talaras, his body language becoming hostile, "in the morning you will find that you are not the only traitor here. One of your own turned your co-conspirators in to the Peacekeepers before they could raise an open revolt. There has been no revolution. Merely ... a martyrdom."
Zhaan feels the grief and madness that she pushed away at the moment of Bitaal's death reach up to choke her. They will take her away, to somewhere more bleak than any asteroid, where she cannot see the sun or feel the earth. Enslaved as her world is enslaved. To no purpose.
The Goddess has a thousand names, but there is no aspect that will listen to a woman who has killed her love and lost her soul for nothing at all.
The End
Given Away
By Andraste
The attendant entering the room surprises Pa'u Zotoh Zhaan out of her meditation - has time passed so quickly, or has the coup not occurred as smoothly as planned? It is no matter. One way or another, they had to find her here eventually.
She has spent her last night in the inner chamber of the House of Sanctity as she spent her first, in prayer and meditation. The many nights between were filled with more trivial pleasures, but spiritual pursuits were always the ostensible reason for her presence here. It is ironically appropriate that she return to them now.
The Goddess has a thousand names, a thousand faces, and tonight Zhaan prays to her in the aspect of Meleen, who guides the dead to their rest. She prays for Bitaal, because she loved him, and loves him still as his empty shell lies cooling on the floor.
"Pa'u Zhaan -" says the acolyte, stopping short as he sees the body.
"Please, Talaras, have no fear," she says, surprised at her own eerie calm, "my crime was not without purpose. By morning, the death of the Spiritual Councilor will be merely one sign of Delvia's liberation." He is startled, and she cannot blame him. No-one expected their leader's favourite student and lover to betray and murder him. She did not expect it herself.
When the dissenters first asked her aid she turned them away, certain that her beloved had the best interests of his people at heart, whatever rules and traditions he might cast asside. They asked her again, when the Peacekeepers came. Although she felt the first stirrings of disquiet within her heart, still she refused. Then those 'security forces' took her father - no rebel, merely an old man who spoke his mind freely - to slave on an asteroid. Bitaal's excuses for holding office long beyond his term, for bringing the black-clad Sebaceans here, began to seem less reasonable. When he thought that he could allay her concerns with a few meaningless reassurances, she saw him clearly for the first time. Her love and respect for his wisdom had made her blind and foolish. Bitaal was arrogant. Overconfident. Dangerous. He had taken his power, and Zhaan, for granted.
"On the contrary," says Talaras, his body language becoming hostile, "in the morning you will find that you are not the only traitor here. One of your own turned your co-conspirators in to the Peacekeepers before they could raise an open revolt. There has been no revolution. Merely ... a martyrdom."
Zhaan feels the grief and madness that she pushed away at the moment of Bitaal's death reach up to choke her. They will take her away, to somewhere more bleak than any asteroid, where she cannot see the sun or feel the earth. Enslaved as her world is enslaved. To no purpose.
The Goddess has a thousand names, but there is no aspect that will listen to a woman who has killed her love and lost her soul for nothing at all.
The End