20.2.0

It was nearly dawn before Dirk relented and let her rest. When it was done, he had sent his two-pronged dagger flying into the throat of the executioner in the dungeon. That man's blood had been the last of the evening. There would be no witnesses to gossip about the queen's present vulnerability.

The game had been almost too pleasant to stop. He had never relished control of her as much as he did this night. He had no doubt that he would eventually teach her to associate the bloodlust with simple obedience to him. He would break her of whatever bizarre hold the demons had on her at the moment - and substitute his own hold instead.

As entertaining a task as it was, he also saw it as necessary. Zyrdicia had not exaggerated the danger she posed to him. That realization drove him to take command of the situation. To his pleasant surprise, he found the harder he pushed her on the matter, the more pliant she was. So long as he used pain to send her careening off into her private nirvana, he could diminish her need to heed the blood's call.

The blood hunger dissipated immediately when she was removed from the source of temptation. Afterward, she was so exhausted she had been scarcely able to stand. When he released her, she sank right back into his arms. The most dangerous magical entity he had ever known clung to him and quivered as he carried her back to his quarters.

Fortunately, at this hour, most of the castle was still asleep. The guards he passed with his limp, nearly weightless cargo politely averted their eyes, assuming the royal pair was merely emerging from a particularly amorous encounter.

20.2.1

Meredith, the king's chambermaid, had ensured that a warm fire awaited for them when they returned from their gruesome work in the dungeon. She had expected they would be back hours ago. She had not dared go to bed herself for fear the fire would go out.

She tried not stare at the king and queen, her eyes fixed on the floor a few feet in front of them. She saw nonetheless that they both looked unusually tired. She supposed it must be a lot of work to slay so many people; she prayed that there was no one down there in custody who was a friend.

The king did not even deign to look at the servant. After the brief encounter with him a few months ago in which he tried to persuade the timid girl to undress him, he had utterly ignored her. Zyrdicia's return had obliterated any passing interest he had once had in tormenting the servant. Meredith was grateful for that, at least.

In other respects, though, the chambermaid found the new queen baffling. Zyrdicia had burst out laughing once when Meredith had been thinking of that strange night when Dirk returned from Bethel's cottage. Meredith was absolutely certain Zyrdicia had sensed her thoughts, and that knowledge made her uneasy. She was terrified of offending the new queen - everyone in the castle knew she was temperamental, unpredictable and absolutely deadly.

Since Zyrdicia's return, Meredith had frequently walked in to turn down the bed while the king and queen were curled up in front of the fire occupied with one another. The royal couple acted as though the girl simply did not exist under such circumstances. That was the best situation a servant could hope for in Castle Blackpool - to be ignored was to stay alive.

Still, Merideth almost wished they would notice her enough to not want her in the room. There was something about their amorous interaction that made her terribly uneasy. Often when she had walked in on them, their bodies had been surrounded by a weird, shadowy violet halo. Even more perplexing, she could not help but notice that when they kissed, they stared into each other's eyes like a pair of unseeing, possessed creatures. Like most northern peasants, Meredith was deathly afraid of magic. After decades of Vector's influence in the region, the commoners knew to fear the dark arts.

Now the chambermaid waited silently to be dismissed. She wanted at least to get an hour or two of sleep before the chamberlain called her to her morning cleaning duties. She resisted the urge to shuffle from foot to foot and stifled a yawn. Servants in Castle Blackpool were expected to be perfectly silent unless addressed. She did not dare to even clear her throat.

The king gestured with his head to a black fur throw blanket slung over the back of a leather sofa. "Spread that on the rug in front of the fire!" he commanded impatiently.

Meredith complied silently. He set the woman in his arms down gently on the soft nest of sable. He glanced up at the waiting servant and added, "Now go see to drawing a hot bath - and be quick about it!"

"Yes, my lord," she curtsied before scurrying out. She glanced back furtively as she left.

The king almost looked gentle as he knelt next to his wife and caressed her cheek. He bent down and kissed her forehead fondly.

20.2.2

In Zyrdicia's present state, Dirk did not trust any of the castle's servants to tend to his wife. Any servant - even Zyrdicia's own - would have misconstrued the situation. Bruised, bitten and covered in the blood of others, she looked as though she had spent the night in a Grox lair.

Given the opportunity, stupid servants would probably spread lies about the queen suffering ghastly mistreatment at his hand - and the equally stupid populace would be only too ready to believe it. As much as the people of the North revered her, there was no telling how they would respond to such rumors. The new, fanatical devotion his soldiers demonstrated toward her divine alter ego carried very real risks for the king.

He did not expect anyone in the world was capable of understanding the genuine affection at the heart of this. All that mattered for now was that she did. It was not often Zyrdicia inspired any genuine tenderness from Dirk. Tonight she had earned it through her submission.

She opened her eyes to regard him, her expression a mask of weary contentment. Surreal innocence infused the expression with a dreamlike softness.

He peeled the layers of leather off her body carefully, paying special attention to her arms and shoulders. The shoulder joints of both arms were mildly swollen. Her neck looked as though she had been mauled. Within a few hours, all that would vanish - maybe sooner.

When he was finished, he wrapped her in the fur. She did not stir when he stood up to remove his armor, though her eyes followed him silently. She had not spoken a single word since they left the dungeon.

Eventually they both bathed, removing the last traces of gore from the experience. The sun was already rising by the time he tucked her into his bed.

He stroked her hair as her head rested against his shoulder, enjoying the perfect sense of ownership the episode sparked.

Her eyes glittered as she looked up at him in pensive silence.

He traced her jawline with the pad of his thumb, thinking. To him, she was at her most alluring when she was like this. There was an inexplicably tranquility to her eyes immediately following a game involving intense pain. The tranquility had an undertone of grateful submission, as though she were relieved, for a little while, to escape the real world and all its petty torments. Wherever the pain propelled her in the depths of her psyche, it was the only refuge where the demons could never reach her. There was more intimacy in taking her there than they could experience through any other physical act. Still, to his thinking, sex would have been a lovely conclusion to it. He heaved a heavy sigh, his expression darkening.

The Edict tended to bother him at unexpected times. Most of the time, the other diversions they pursued where quite enough. After all, she held nothing else back from him physically - ever. She never ceased to amaze him with peculiar and delightful variations, demands and expressions of curiosity. Once in a while, though, the single limitation he faced with her truly gnawed at him. Right now it simply served as an unpleasant reminder that she was not yet fully his.

He leaned over where she lay and kissed her slowly and deliberately, reminding himself how much of her he already possessed. She still tasted of submission. And power. But then, she always tasted of power. For now, that power was very nearly prostrate before him, welcoming its own conquest. When he finally withdrew his tongue, his lips continued to hover a hairsbreadth above hers as he stared into her eyes, savoring his victory.

The beautiful violet pools hid nothing on this night. The blood hunger had stripped her psyche, leaving it emotionally naked and bereft of pretense. Right now needed him in a way she had not needed anyone in over a century. She had no means of escaping the infernal madness without him.

"Please make the blood hunger go away," she murmured, finally breaking her silence.

Her plea brought a smile to his lips. In it he heard her desperation - and her absolute certainty that he could accomplish the task. He commanded softly, "You must trust me and do exactly as I say."

She nodded docilely.

"Does anyone else know of its effect on you?"

"The dragon."

"You may speak of it to no one."

She nodded again. He did not have to tell her that. Anyone at all who wanted Dirk dead needed only unleash the craving, watch her turn on him and everyone else around her. If such a thing were to happen, she might single-handedly decimate Castle Blackpool more effectively than an entire army storming its walls.

She frowned unhappily, "I can't stand this. I want to kill like I used to, and enjoy it."

"Have patience. We will work on it again tomorrow, and every night until the problem is solved to my satisfaction."

"I was afraid you would think I had turned into a monster," she confessed suddenly. The thought that Azriok had turned her into some sort of Sephiroth larvae made her stomach turn.

Dirk's eyes glittered in amusement. She was a monster - the most beautifully diabolic monster he had ever known. And it was precisely what he found so captivating. In his eyes, the blood hunger was just a new feature on a familiar, lethal toy.

He arched a brow and remarked, "The only thing I found monstrous was your effort to rip my arms from their sockets. We shall dispense with that tomorrow."

"Did I hurt you?"

"Of course not," he lied, sneering as though such a notion were absurd. In truth, he could already feel soreness setting in. Her first jolt to get away had been powerful, indeed. His body felt like he had spent the evening on the front line of a battlefield. He would have never admitted it to her, though.

She nuzzled her face against the crook of his neck affectionately. She was still for a long time then. Just as he had come to believe she had fallen asleep there, her voice surprised him.

"I do trust you, Dirk. That's the only reason I allowed it."

"Then procure for me some magical chains from which you can't escape, dearest," he suggested playfully.

"I suppose the enchanter-smith in Lyr who is repairing my armor could produce some. We can go see him tomorrow," she mumbled absently into his shoulder, as though fulfilling the request were but a small thing.

Dirk blinked. His suggestion had, of course, been in jest. He never imagined she would take it seriously. A smug, wicked glimmer lit up his eyes as he held her. The prospects were marvelous. As far as he could tell, she was not only subdued - she was handing him the key to her own cage.

"I'm so afraid I will kill you down there," she murmured, more to herself then to him. "I already killed almost everyone else. I would be so lonely."

"Get me the chains tomorrow, and we can ensure you won't have the chance to try to kill me," he coaxed, his toes curling in delight. He smiled triumphantly to himself, pleased with his own cleverness. "Sleep now. You need the rest."

"But I don't want to go to my dreamworld."

"I will wake you if you start to dream," he assured.

"No!" she protested. Despite her weariness, there was a strange intensity to her voice.

"You're exhausted. You must sleep!" he ordered firmly.

"But I want to sleep in your dreamworld tonight," she announced quietly, her tone disarmingly sweet.

"You what?"

"The demons will never find me in your dreamworld. It's safe there."

Dirk blinked in surprise. He was almost offended at her certainty in characterizing his dreams as 'safe.' The intrusiveness of the suggestion brought a scowl to his brow.

"No," he answered firmly.

"I'm too tired to be teased," she smiled, her tone warm and sleepy. "You can't refuse me this."

"It seems you are destined to learn tonight how very wrong you are. Perhaps I'll let you linger in your own dreamworld when you fall asleep to remind you of that lesson."

Zyrdicia shook her head wearily, her otherworldly eyes dancing strangely in the darkness as she gazed at him. "Impossible."

"And what makes you so certain?" he smirked.

"Because you called me Deesh tonight." She moved one index finger over his lips to silence him before he could reply. She moved her head a few inches against his neck so that her lips were against his ear. She whispered tenderly, "I never doubted that you were worthy of it."

The profession caught Dirk off guard. He was prepared for arguments and petulant demands. He had no immediate reply for this tactic, though.

A note of surreal innocence infused into her tone as she continued, "None of Hell's power comes without price. You are the only mortal I've ever known capable of paying it."

"What price?" he demanded cautiously, uncertain whether to be terribly flattered or to feel duped.

She spoke as though she expected he already knew the answer somehow, a child-like guilelessness in her voice. "The word you claimed a right to use carries such a heavy responsibility."

"What responsibility?" Dirk asked the question through clenched teeth, filled with a terrible sense of dread. Calling her "Deesh" had been an emotional ploy to get her to obey him, nothing more. He had no idea it carried unknown costs.

"Accessing the power of that word binds you to the object you claim to possess. It's a custodial obligation."

Dirk rolled his eyes in annoyance at her foolishness. Her description sounded like mere betrothal. "You became my 'custodial obligation' long before tonight."

"Not like this. To invoke the power of deesh is to promise to - " Zyrdicia's voice trailed off. She did not know how to explain it in mortal terms. The 'always and forever' aspect of eternity was meaningless to a human.

Finally she said, "The last being who called me Deesh sacrificed a piece of his own soul to protect me when the need arose. The word means that much. It has everything to do with Azriok's protectiveness and jealousy. And it also explains why I'll never really be rid of him until I kill him."

Dirk lay silently, turning her words over in his mind. He sensed the implicit warning. She was testing him, reminding him that for all the drama of their play together, all of it transpired only because she wanted it. And now she desired something in return for her acquiescence. Failure to accept this cryptic "bargain" would be an admission that he was unworthy of using the word - and thus unworthy of the level of control over her he had claimed tonight. It would also mean conceding that he was somehow less than the demon who had once owned her. None of the power, pleasure or victories she had ever delivered to him came without strings attached. In the previous months, there had been countless negotiations and deals struck in their personal lives together. Still, he sensed an eerie finality to this latest one.

Acquisition of limitless power required a perversely limitless duty to the power's source: her. Cloaked this way, every act of caring or compassion was merely an expression of a power transaction. She transformed any potential display of emotional softness into one of strength and selfishness. Couched in her terms, affection was a mere currency to purchase an appearance of mastery. Her game's rules eliminated the need for either of them to confront the personal weakness implicit in the devotion to another person.

Dirk sighed resignedly, his eyes moving to fire's dim embers. He was already much too far down this road to deny the journey's destination now. She was an unholy obsession that permeated every breath and pore of his being. Whatever the consequences, whatever the cost, he could never relinquish her power.

No sooner had he made up his mind to grant her request than he felt the gentle nudge of her mind at the fringes of his consciousness, waiting patiently for him to admit her. He sighed reluctantly, then let down his natural psychic defenses as she had taught him to let her inside.

Her presence in his head came almost instantaneously. She suddenly flooded him with awareness, as though she were letting him think and feel through her own mind. She wrapped around him and through him until hardly any sensation could pass through either of them without passing through both. They often experienced such a pervasive union in the height of sexual passion, but never, ever just like this, for its own sake.

In a single breath, he understood her desperate need to avoid the dream demons tonight, her emotional weariness and vulnerability. Following him into his own dreamworld was the one thing that could give her certain respite from her demons. He understood instantly why she had waited so long to demand this of him.

Tonight's events enabled her to want to enter a place where she would have no magic, where all the rules were his. There was nowhere she could be more defenseless.