Hey guys! I know you guys probably thought I gave up on this story or died, but luckily, I am back :) Sorry for the long wait, I never intended to have such a gap between the publication of this chapter and the last. Trust me, I have not given up writing just yet. It's just that I've been really, really busy with school work. I'm a Junior now and the classes I've taken are twenty types of difficult. Sorry guys, I really am. I just can't really handle much more stress, and because of that I've sacrificed a lot of time previously used for writing so that I can relax from the pressures of my school. Luckily, this chapter is longer than the last...And includes a lot of fluff! :) :) :)
QUESTIONS:
¿Betsabe va a reencarnar igual que David que reencarno en simbad? Y ¿betsabe va encontrarse con simbad en su siguiente vida? Ya que David juro no dejar a betsabe ni en la muerte y creo que en la otra vida tampoco la dejará. (Is Bathsheba going to reincarnate the same way that David reincarnates as Sinbad? And is Bathsheba going to encounter Sinbad in her second life? Since David swore that he wouldn't leave Bathsheba in death, I think that he wouldn't leave her in the other life either.): Sorry if I mistranslated the last bit wrong, I'm not as good at Spanish as I should be, having studied it for five years XD For your first question, that's a secret ;) I've been thinking about writing a sequel, and have even begun setting up the plot- but originally yes, the first draft for this story actually had the prologue being a quick summary of Bathsheba's life and her death/reincarnation. Things go differently in this story though. But would you guys like a sequel? I think it's coming along to be quite good, actually. The main character has quickly become one of my favorite OCs, in addition to Badroulbadour from SS and Bathsheba.
Catharsis
By Gold Sparrow
CHAPTER 16: Love
Joab has to watch Tamar in order to understand her. He spies on her little hands, which are quick to pick up foreign objects to inspect. He studies her curious, wide eyes, which alway search for answers. And finally, he considers her pureness, a blank slate of unwritten morals. If Joab didn't know who this naive little child was, he'd think her a perfect example of an orthodox child. Sincere and sheltered, she could easily be persuaded into believing the other species were monsters lurking in the wilderness.
But he does know who she is- who her mother is. It's difficult now for Joab to even lie about his loyalty to the Queen. And, though she is sweet simplicity, Tamar is Bathsheba's child.
With that in mind, Joab tried to convince David to start Tamar's schooling, though without success. He thought he was successful at first. Tamar started sessions with a tutor, and Joab believed his word had finally triumphed over the beast Queen's. Then he learned Tamar was simply studying basic writing, reading and arithmetic; not the key moral teachings of the church. He was furious and didn't hide it from David. He warned the King that, at this rate, Tamar would become like her mother.
David stared at him for a long time, his face expressionless. Then it morphed into a more considerate expression, his face softening. His eyes wandered upwards, examining the ceiling as if it were a beloved face.
"Maybe I want her to be like her mother," He said, a tiny smile gracing his face. The horror Joab felt didn't go away for weeks after that. But what struck fear in his heart was the way David turned back to him, his eyes darkening. He drawled low and threateningly, "Is there something wrong with that?"
Joab denied it, pretended he didn't mean what he said.
Oh, but he meant it, and he fears even more for David. He fears for Alma Torran. He fears, even though he hates himself for it, Bathsheba and her power. For that reason, for that end…
He looks upon Tamar, mindlessly playing with the daughter of a maid, a purity being tainted by her own blood.
...He'll do what is right.
"Little one,
What does it feel like, to be great? I've missed you so much that nowadays it's hard to remember your soul."
-"A Letter to a Friend", hanging in Professor Saul Gibeath's office.
There was a time in Saul's life where he both loved and envied his young student. His love for her was a fatherly love that sprang out of his own loneliness. Saul was alone because he had always saw things. His earliest memory is of watching beautiful creatures float lightly in the air, their bodies no bigger than a butterfly's. They appeared to only be made out of two pure white wings melded together at the ends, no torso or head to speak of. He named them soul. He has never heard them speak, but he often saw them fly through the air, their wings flapping gently. He refused to believe what he saw wasn't real, and he was proclaimed a crazy genius by people who didn't understand.
Saul struggled for greatness, and it was hard. He fell in love, and even had a child once, and his family finally made him feel understood. Yet even that broke apart, leaving him a husk. There is limited courage and limited strength to every person, and Saul hit his the moment his wife died of grief after hearing of their son's death. So he hated. Every person hates at one time or another, though not everyone has limited hatred. Saul has limited hatred. What's one to do when they hit that mark, when they become sick of their own being?
They could die.
But Saul gave up. He dropped his hat, smiled at the suns, and accepted that he played the game of life and lost. Then, loudly, he decided to give up the precious "sanity" that everyone seemed so keen on protecting; spread his hands to soul and let them wash over him with their love. He managed to keep his position as a professor, though he isn't sure how. He hardly cared if he was a pompous teacher or a lousy bum in the streets. All he wanted was to dedicate his life to what he saw, and what he saw was a hungry world. Starving people looking for temporary fixes flock to cities, and sated pigs doll themselves up as churchgoers and mercilessly steal scraps from the poor. There is no fairness, no equality, and the hierarchy of the human social structure became more rigid, more cold, and more sadistic. Saul wanted to help, he truly did, but he knew only someone loved by soul could be the savior, and while he was blessed, he was not that blessed.
It was around the time that he finally finished his masterpiece, the mediocre and poorly reviewed book called The Role of Man, that he met Bathsheba. Oh, he loved her. It was not little Bathsheba's fault that she became the fascination and darling of a madman, but it was her error that she didn't notice the sorrow and pain she brought him. There were others before her who tried to become his apprentice, but they were false prophets who refused to feed their souls with truth. Instead, they all eventually strode down a path of sin and tainted themselves with empty meals, smiling ignorantly at the world around them.
Bathsheba did not.
She saw the truth and knew it; and from a young age had a maturity that fit sadly well on her. She never strayed her eyes with want towards earthly possessions, and nevered sighed in love sickness over a boy. She stuck to a path that was much too straight and narrow, but Saul could find no fault with how Bath listened to her heart, to her soul. What she wanted she went for, and she did not deny herself. Saul loved her, and he envied her, and sometimes, in the dark of the night as he stared at a closet full of old dresses, he hated her.
But when he lost her, when Bathsheba married a man named David, Saul became despondent. He needed his little student to light the way when he was scared, he longed to see her soft smile after a philosophical breakthrough. Which is why, when a letter from little Bathsheba- Queen Bathsheba Jehoahaz Abraham- comes one day, he stares at it for a long time. Then he takes a sip of liquor, hating the taste passionately, and sits still in his desk chair. Does he want to read the letter? Of course. He wants to rip it open and devour its contents. But he is afraid. He doesn't want to read the letter and realize that his Bathsheba has changed, that his promised savior, too, has become lost down the road of ignorance and sin. It's fearful.
Then, slowly, as his lecture hall full of students look on and wait for the rest of his speechI, he dramatically gasps,
"Ah, but she has no soul! Little Bath, what could you want from this wise old man? I have no food for you anymore."
And he reads the letter.
Bathsheba is not a woman with many wants. There are few possessions she needs, and even fewer desires that she craves.
But what she does want, what her heart longs for, she desperately [underlined] needs. The hunger for knowledge, the starvation for it, used to consume her. She'd spend hours in libraries, forgetting to eat and sleep, researching a topic until her body gave out. Her mind is a dangerous thing not because of her astonishing intelligence, but because of it's constant appetite for education.
She wants new. She wants the undiscovered. And if I had never come to her with my deal, if I hadn't made her my wife, she'd still be at that university, studying the other species for the rest of her days. She probably planned to live for centuries, collecting data and studying everything that could be known. I cannot blame her. I once had that same spark, that same desperation to know. It's a strange thing, seeing myself in another person. But Bathsheba never ceases to amaze me, not even now that we've been married for five years.
There is one more similarity between us.
Bathsheba craves something I once craved as well, a greedy emotion that, I'm sure, she's always ignored and suffered with. But she fed it once. She fed it once like how I fed it once too many years ago. She gave into her need and now she has to have a fix every day or else she is distraught.
Bathsheba needs love. I know she's always been fascinated with it, watching it in others and studying it in those close to her. She spent time with her student Nathan and his wife Sara because she saw love there, and she eagerly grew close to them to feel the warmth of it radiate off of their marriage. And her mentor, Saul Gibeath- yes, she knew he loved her and she wanted to love him too, but kept herself always just a little distanced so that she wouldn't be stung by the sweet poison.
[A line started, and crossed out.]
[A line started, and crossed out.]
[A line started, and crossed out.]
[Sloppily, hastily, conflictedly,] And, in a romantic sense, she may have even considered Ugo to be somewhat of a potential...Romantic interest.
She always resisted. She always stayed strong and kept herself cold, kept herself smart.
But then she made the fatal mistake of looking down into her child's face and falling deeply in love.
Yes. More than anything, my Bathsheba needs Tamar.
"Tamar," Bathsheba lightly calls, sitting on a tree stump. From her left, the thumping of feet on wet grass reveals her young daughter. Her feet are dirty and the end of her white dress is splattered with mud, her chest heaving in and out with the force of her running. She does not seem to notice this, her sky-blue eyes sparking in the bright afternoon light. When she runs to her mother, her long waves of black hair follow behind, each strand shiny and clean.
"Mommy!" Tamar squeals, throwing her arms around her mother's waist. Bathsheba smiles down at the child, brushing thick hair away from her sunshine-face before pressing kisses to her forehead and cheeks.
"Hello my love," Bath warmly greets her, kneeling. She can feel the wet grass through her robes, but she's never cared about clothing much anyway. "What are you playing today?"
"I'm playing hide-and-go-seek with Arba," Tamar says seriously. Then she tugs on her mother's arm. "Wanna play?"
"I do," Bathsheba picks up her daughter, swooping down to scoop up her staff as well. In a moment, they're hovering above the ground and flying up, going over the trees.
"Mommy!" Tamar squeals, hugging Bath tightly. Bath laughs, moving to sit upon her staff with her daughter on her lap. Even though Tamar is now five years old, she is still light as a feather. "Wow! I wanna learn to fly!"
"I'll teach you when you're older," Bath promises, before adding, "If your father stops being so overprotective."
"Daddy just loves me." Tamar say with a certain degree of triumph. It makes her mother burst into laughter. "Why're you laughing?"
"Ah, there's Arba!" Bathsheba quietly motions for Tamar to be silent so that they can sneak up on the handmaid.
"Young mistress!" Arba calls, her eyebrows furrowing with each passing moment. Bathsheba feels for her friend. Tamar has a talent for hide-and-go-seek, and causes both Arba and Ester headaches whenever they are made to play. Even Bathsheba has problems finding the little Princess now and again, though she hardly worries for her child's safety. Tamar has proven again and again to have good judgement with both situations and people. Bathsheba creeps up from behind, before gently setting herself down on the ground with Tamar perched on one hip. A small grin spreads over her face despite her desire to stay calm, and she jumps out, throwing her free arm around Arba's shoulders.
Arba gasps loudly (Bathsheba had been hoping for a scream), and whirls around, her eyes wide with shock. Then she realizes her "attacker" is merely a smiling Bathsheba and a wildly giggling Tamar and places a hand over her heart, breathing heavily.
"Oh, Mistress!"
"Sorry, Arba darling." Bathsheba places Tamar down, who runs over and hugs Arba's legs.
"Sorry, Arba! Mommy wanted to play a joke on you- isn't she mean?"
"Hey." Bath eyes her child, and Tamar giggles some more, taking off running back into the palace gardens. Arba fans herself, sighing laboriously.
"You gave me a fright, Mistress!"
"Ah, you don't have to pretend to be afraid anymore." Bathsheba chuckles. "Magician-clones are trained their whole lives to protect Church officials from intruders. You probably knew the whole time where we were."
Arba smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of her head.
"Sorry, mistress. I just thought Tamar would like it if your joke went off without a hitch."
"You thought correctly," Bathsheba looks out at the gardens, watching her daughter gather lilies in her hands. "Thank you for pleasing her."
Hours of screaming, furious pain, and little beadlets of sweat on his wife's face.
That's what it takes for Nathan's child to be born.
He tries, he really does, not to be afraid. But even the best men crumple before their kin, and Nathan is no better. The moment he sees Sara sobbing over a crying baby, he nearly collapses into a puddle of 'I love you's. He embraces his wife and cautiously strokes his child's- his son's- face, shaking his head wildly.
"No." He murmurs, holding back tears. "I won't cry."
"Oh, darling," Sara kisses him, smiling through her delicate, joyful tears. "Have you ever seen such a beautiful baby? Isn't he beautiful?"
"Handsome." He corrects. "I'm sure he prefers handsome."
"Nathan Jr." Sara cooes, patting down the boy's blond hair. Nathan feels somewhat tiffed that his son looks exactly like Sara instead of him. Sure, his wife points out the fact that the baby has his cheeks and his jaw and his nose and his forehead, but his skin color and eye color and hair color are her's.
"We are not naming him Nathan Jr." Nathan interjects, lifting himself up. "I don't like "Junior". It's...I dunno. But he should be his own person."
"But I love your name!" Sara pouts, rocking the boy, her amethyst eyes glowing with passion. She looks tired and ruffled, but still beautiful. His heart melts a little just looking at her, and he feels an intense sting deep in his heart when he begins thinking about the pain and suffering he's soon going to put her through. He knows he should quit it, the Cause. But he can't. He's too obsessed. Too attached. And, he thinks, looking at his firstborn child, he has too many hopes for the future.
"Alright. Something similar then." He finally relents.
"Something similar…" Sara hums, before sinking a little lower into the pillows. Her face relaxes, grows warm and soft. "Ah, I know."
"What?" Nathan holds her hand, unable to keep himself from kissing her knuckles over and over again. Sara's smile brings sunlight into the room, and Nathan feels like summer has come to their little house. Her eyes meet his, and she lifts her hand to his face. Then she sets up their sleeping infant so his face is towards his father's, a perfect view.
"Ithnan," Sara breaths, giggling. "Doesn't it suit him?"
Ithnan opens his purple eyes, and sneezes.
"Daddy!" Tamar gasps happily, her little eyes sparkling. David's face turns from calm and collected to startled in a mere second.
"Hello," The pure King awkwardly greets, kneeling to get eye to eye with his daughter. Tamar giggles, reaching forward to attach herself to David in what's she describes as a "big hug".
"How was your trip?" She asks enthusiastically, prompting him to pick her up. He does so with slight hesitation, making Bathsheba release a small laugh at his plight. He turns to glare at her, but just as he does Tamar kisses his cheek.
"It went well," He tells her, unsure how else to handle her innocent affections other than with gentleness. Bath watches with a certain degree of, though she knows she shouldn't, fondness. She can understand David's conflicting emotions quite well- neither of them expected to love their daughter so much. Whenever David leaves the castle for a period of time he is able to break Tamar's spell over him- but once he returns, it takes little to no time for him to fall back into the child's grasp. It seems to Bathsheba that David is still trying to figure out how to balance being a psychopathic villain and a doting father.
"Can we play?" Tamar pleads sweetly, her eyes big and shiny. It's more effective than any strength spell the way it pierces right through David's heart. Overwhelmed, the Elder looks to her for help, only for Bathsheba to smile evilly.
"He'll do you one better!" She coos in a very motherly fashion. "We'll go on a picnic."
David's face changes from pleading to shocked and betrayed. The child in his arms starts squealing with joy.
"Nathan!"
Nathan whirls around, panic racing through his chest. A desperate call like that (from Jonathan no less) means that they've must've been found out, and that they must quickly destroy all evidence of the cause before the military arrives-
"Jon, you burn the letters-!"
"Nathan, my son is being born!"
Nathan stands very still for a moment, before coughing out a groan of relief.
"Oh thank Illah," He raises his hands to the sky, letting his shoulders drop. Jonathan still looks panicked and shaky, his eyes unable to focus on Nathan's face. "I thought we were doomed."
"My son. That Merab let me have with her!"
"...Isn't she your wife?"
"She only likes me sometimes." Jonathan dismisses Nathan's words, pressing his hands to his temples very harshly. Nathan noties now the sweat running down his neck and the wild look on his face, the fear.
"Well, settle down," Nathan tries, reaching out to clasp a hand on the messenger's shoulder. "It'll be okay, we just have to head over to your house-"
"Of course!" Jonathan jumps back, scaring the brunette. "I have to go the house! I have to be with her while she gives birth!"
"Well, yeah-"
Then Jonathan is off, running like a madman out of Nathan's office and down the university hallways. Nathan watches for a moment before scratching the back of his head and deciding it may be worthwhile to go and be there with his friend. By the time he makes it to the house, he's thankful to learn that the whole "birthing" part is over with, and the midwife gives him a bright smile as she leaves through the front door.
The scent of fabrics and dyes fill his nose as he enters, as well as the familiar scent of ink and parchment from Jonathan's study. Nathan pauses at the entrance to the study, looking in. He's shocked to see the papers and formulas strewn about, but then feels a sad pang of pity in his chest. He remembers just how genius Jonathan is, and how he often forgets it because of the rough life the chocolate skinned man suffers with.
But that pity disappears when he enters the bedroom. What he finds there is the equivalent to what he saw when he entered the room after Sara gave birth- he finds a crying couple cradling their precious child, their eyes filled with the gentleness and love that prove their humanity. Jonathan looks up with blurry eyes, looking dopy and almost comical with happiness.
"Hey, Nathan!" He waves his friend over, laughing over his cries. Usually Merab would eye him with distaste as he entered, but today she's too full of glee to even manage an eye roll, a faint smile playing on her lips. With Jonathan's eyes on Nathan, Merab looks at her husband with an expression so tender and passionate that Nathan hardly knows why she always acts so aloof to the poor, lovestruck sap. It's obvious that she loves him just as much, if not more.
"My baby boy-" Jonathan points to the bundled up baby sitting in Merabs arms, grinning so wide Nathan can see his wisdom teeth. "Do you see him? He looks just like me!"
"He has my eyes," Merab interjects, stroking the child's dark purple hair. "He does, but he's sleeping right now, so you can't tell."
"My boy," Jonathan laughs- giggles. "Nathan. I have a son."
"We can have playdates," Nathan chuckles, slapping a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Hey, what's the kid's name?"
The couple share a look, Merab raising herself up with pride.
"He's named after my father," She explains, showing the infant to Nathan even more closely. "His name is Setta."
We went on a picnic today.
As Bathsheba (and to an extent, David,) promised, they go on a picnic. Tamar can't believe her luck, asking Arba and Ester lots of questions about what one does on a picnic. Amused, the handmaids tells her stories about their own experiences on trips as they dress her. Arba tells of sitting on a mountaintop with her sister as she ties Tamar's hair into two braids, both shiny and black and tied with white ribbons. Ester relates the first date she ever went on with her husband, all while carefully selecting a power blue dress for their young mistress to wear. When they are done, they admire their handiwork and hand Tamar off to her mother, who gently pinches her cheek before setting the girl on her staff.
It was a strange picnic.
Once at the picnic, The parents hardly have to do anything at all to keep their little child entertained. Tamar always has some sort of topic to broach or game to play, and often contents herself with her own imagination and abundant energy. The Queen watches David as the late afternoon picnic continues, sees his face soften bit by bit as he begins to smile more at Tamar's funny stories and silly games.
It was very strange. I felt very strange.
They eat and talk and relax, watching the simple beauty of the meadow they picked and the sparkling waters of the lake they sit next to. When Tamar no longer is able to sit still, she jumps up and begins to collect flowers for her father, promising to make a flower crown for him to wear that is prettier than the one he usually has on.
David rolls his eyes, but lets her do as she wants, watching her from time to time to make sure she doesn't wander too close to the woods- though he can spot the black robes of the royal guard in the shadows, patrolling the area.
I felt hungry.
David assesses his surroundings. The summer day simmers as it draws to a close, coating the meadow in the afternoon sun. The result is a lethargic atmosphere around them, the bright quality of the colors off of the pond and the grass amplified tenfold by his sluggish eyes. David leans against a large tree, his arm wrapped around Bathsheba's shoulders. He closes his eyes, feeling Bathsheba shift to lay her head against his shoulder and rest her body against his.
"Tamar wants a sibling."
It was not a physical hunger.
David laughs, practically feeling Bathsheba's frown through her voice.
"She's an active little one," He hums. "Always running. She wants someone to run with her."
"She has Falan."
"True, but she's not always available."
"It's almost as if you want another child," She quips (accuses). David shrugs, opening his eyes. He sees a flash of blue and black, Tamar running in front of them to cross to the flower patch on the other side of the tree. Her silhouette on the water flashes in his eyes as he watches her go.
It was a need. It felt like something I felt a long time ago, and it hurt.
"Maybe," He murmurs. For a moment, he remembers that he needs a son, but then Tamar's eyes are on his as she triumphantly holds up a four-leaf clover for him to see. He smiles and nods at her, and she skips a bit higher.
David, for the first time in a very long while, is content. If he could pause life at this moment, with his innocent, docile daughter picking flowers and his not-as-cold-as-ice wife by his side, he would. Even though there are plans and he has a duty and what about Abigail, he can't find a reason to change everything. He doesn't feel a need to die.
I made a mistake today.
Shockingly, he can't even muster up the desire to become God. The sensible part of his brain instantly tells him that he must stop this madness. He must separate himself from his family- no, from the two women. He must draw a line between who they are and what they mean and who he is and what he'll be.
And yet, he doesn't lift a finger.
"It's too much effort."
I slipped up.
Yes, too much effort. He blinks once, wondering where the thought came from, but Bathsheba's hand slips into his, distracting him. She threads their fingers together tightly, and leans against him more willingly.
"This is best you've felt in years, admit it."
So many questions, but no answers. Bathsheba's voice, soft and gentle but twinged with reluctant hope,
"Fine. Another child."
I gave in today.
He does not think about the future this child could bring. He does not think about his death. Instead, he happily thinks that his Tamar will finally have the playmate she wants so badly.
And now, I am hungry.
Hey guys! Thanks again for reading, and I'm sorry again about not updating sooner TT_TT I'll try harder! Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter, and if so, please review! Reviews help me work faster...XD
Joab: Tsk, tsk. Joab, Joab, Joab. He may not be the most relatable guy in the world, but I hope you guys can see where he is coming from. Like how David said that his Elders have lost what makes them human, Joab has lived for centuries (I'm pretty sure I mentioned it, but he's actually only a few years younger than David) and has clearly been thinking solely of preserving the Church. Because of that, he sees Bathsheba and Tamar as obstacles who have been "corrupting" David. He definitely sees the world in a different way than the other characters- and I'm trying to present Nathan as a person who provides a different POV as well.
Saul: Poor Saul! He had a hard knock life :( I wanted to make the description of his backstory longer and sadder, but I thought that doing it in any way but quick and somewhat vague wouldn't fit Saul as a character. He's a strange guy, but that's why I enjoy writing him so much XD
Ithnan & Setta: SURPRISE! Hahaha, some of you probably knew. But yes, Ithnan is the son of Nathan and Sara, and Setta is the son of Jonathan and Merab, only a few months apart in age. The ages for them was never given officially, so I decided that they are four years younger than Tamar.
Nathan & the Cause: Nathan is being very shady about this "Cause". I wonder what it is...Hahaha it's probably obvious XD
The picnic: Bathsheba and David are going to have another child! And David is totally falling victim to the same "need" that Bathsheba gave into...Hopefully it doesn't bite him in the ass XD XD XD
Got any questions or suggestions? Something wrong about the chapter? Grammatical errors, something you didn't like? PM me or leave it in the reviews, I will reply and see what I can do to make the story better/clearer for y'all to understand. ILY MY DARLING READERS!
BYE~~~~~~~