Full Circle

Buffy decided on her own to remove Lutz and all the inhabitants of Lagash to her sacred city, Uruk. The ‘prisoners of war’ were told that they could only take with them one bag of personal belongings, the rest were the spoils for Sharru-kin and his men. Even though the Slayer reached an agreement of sorts with Lutz, she wanted to give the illusion that Sumer had indeed invaded, defeated and destroyed the only city of Morgoth in the east. It was important to her that both Melkor and Marduk think Lutz dead and that she claimed all the people of Lagash as her thralls. While that most definitely wasn’t the case, she did in fact, insist that the Lagashites devote five years to her service before being granted the right to become citizens of her holy city.

When the Sumerians had finished looting Lagash, and all had vacated its boundaries, Buffy personally burned the city to the ground. Seeing Morgoth’s last tie to the east go up in flames delighted the Slayer. It called for a celebration, for their victory was twofold. Not only did the Slayer just strengthen her armies, but Lutz also had provided her with valuable information pertaining to the defenses of Marduk’s realm.

Kit and Kat brought all the mighty Lords to Eridu to celebrate Sharru-kin’s victory. Neither Lutz nor any of the Lagashites attended the festivities. Buffy wanted to inform the other Lords of what she had done before bringing any of them into their company. While the people made with the merry-making, she summoned all three gods and the Oracles to a council in a private chamber within Zabalam.

“You did what?” exclaimed an agitated Luthor upon hearing Buffy’s disclosure regarding the people of Lagash. “How dare you bring a servant of Morgoth into this realm!”

Olofin’s eyes darted to the Maia; he shook his head in warning.

“Calm down, old man,” said Buffy. “What’s the big deal? Bringing Lutz to Sumer is no different than when I brought you to the Deeper Well. It was my call, and I stand by it!” The Maia sank back in his chair, nervously chewing his bottom lip. “Besides, I’ve got some good news for you, Luthor.” He cocked an eyebrow upon hearing that. “Sharru-kin is giving up his claim to the throne of Kish on New Year’s Day, so you can appoint whomever you want to the kingship.” She smiled at the old man. “That’s my peace offering to you.”

“And, er, Sharru-kin has agreed to surrender the scepter,” remarked Luthor incredulously.

“Of course he has. I’ve decided to appoint my sweetie as King of Sumer, meaning all other kings must answer to him.”

“So, you’ve taken it upon yourself to exalt the mortal,” remarked Luthor. “What of Orran? The King of Eridu is supposed to wield more power than the others do. Is it not unjust to demote the rightful heir to throne?”

Buffy snickered. “Orran’s at death’s door. He won’t survive the whole of next year. His descendants will still hold their titles, but Sharru-kin will be the overlord of all the mortals. Are we all in agreement? Shall we see a show of hands?” Everyone raised his or her hand except Luthor. Once he had seen that the others agreed with Buffy, his hand slowly went up in the air. “Good,” she said after the vote. “Now there’s something else that I want to bring up with you guys… ”

“Does this too have to do with Sharru-kin?” asked her youngest son.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” She leaned forward, placing her folded arms on the table. “I know that we all decided years ago that no mortal is to learn the elven tongue, but the Green-elves feel that we should teach our ‘secret’ language to Sharru-kin, and I happen to agree… ”

“No surprises there,” mumbled Luthor.

“Sorry?” She looked questioningly at the old Maia. “Did you say something?”

Luthor cleared his throat. “I said I’m in total agreement with you, Inanna. As Supreme Ainu you’re entitled to whatever your heart desires.”

“I’m glad you’re starting to see things my way, Luthor,” said the beaming Slayer. “You’re absolutely right. Come New Year’s Day, Sharru-kin will take the throne as Sargon the Great, King of Sumer, and I will personally teach him the elvish tongue.”

“Hasn’t she been doing that for the past year?” uttered the old man to Olofin. The perturbed half-elf closed his eyes. Not only was Luthor’s comment uncalled for, he spoke loud enough for the rest of the group to hear.

“What is your problem with mother?” asked an annoyed Anno. “I’m quite tired of hearing your tripe. If you have something to say, for the love of Eru, say it!”

Luthor glanced at each person sitting at the table. “If I speak my mind freely, will I end up being pulverized by our illustrious King?”

Before Buffy could offer a snappy comeback, Mirë answered, “No harm will befall you for speaking your mind, Luthor. I only hope that your words are not said as a mere attempt to provoke mother.”

“He can say whatever he wants,” said the Slayer, glowering at the old man. “You need to keep in mind that you manhandled my women, then barged into my private bedchamber and turned my lover into a boar… I was only reacting to the situation.”

“You thrashed me, breaking my wrist!” shouted the Maia, leaping from his seat.

“You tried to turn me into a hideous beast!” argued Buffy, now on her feet too.

“You destroyed my scepter!”

“You interrupted me and… ”

“ENOUGH!” yelled Olofin, slamming his fist on the table with a loud thud. “You’re both acting like a couple of elflings! For Eru’s sake, put aside your differences once and for all.” The half-elf turned his attention to the old man and heatedly said, “If your words are only some contest of power, then be done with it, Luthor; mother’s will rules.” He then turned to the Slayer. “And you, mother, need to stop brandishing your banner of power wherever you go. We know that you rule over us, but for the love of the Valar, please stop instigating confrontations with Luthor. Enough is enough!” Both Ainur sank back into their chairs uttering apologies.

The half-elf paused, attempting to regain his composure. He then continued in a softened voice, “After Dagor i Thelaith Thrynin, we all decided to remain in the East in order to aid mankind. Our directive for the mortals is still the same: to increase their population and to impart upon them the wisdom that we possess… If they see dissension in our ranks, they’ll soon follow.” He turned towards Buffy. “Do you remember telling me, when I was a child, that old saying from your mortal youth: ‘monkey see, monkey do?’ That applies here. Man emulates our behavior. If we do not conduct ourselves properly, neither will the mortals. Do not let pride be the cause of our downfall. If we don’t stay united, we will inevitably fall.”

“You’re right,” answered Buffy. “I’m sorry. I won’t bring the… incident up again.”

“Nor will I,” added the old Maia.

“Good!” said Olofin with a forced smile. “We’re family here. There’s no need for all this friction. Despite the powers that some of us possess, none here are omnipotent. Where one is weak, another is strong. We must place a greater value on wisdom than strength… ”

“I think we’ve addressed Inanna’s demands,” interjected Luthor. He eyed Buffy uneasily as he rose to his feet. “I say it’s time for us to join the festivities. I daresay that I could use a glass of elvish wine right about now. Coming, Inanna?”

Buffy sat there for a minute pondering Olofin’s last sentence. It was obvious that that comment was directed at her, she was the one that placed a greater value on strength. Were Luthor and Olofin plotting against her? Were they attempting to sway Marto from her way of thinking? Were they saying that wisdom wins battles, not strength?

She rose from her seat, her mind whirling with the conspiracy she saw unfolding before her.

“Yeah, I’m ready to do a little partying,” she replied with a grin.

With that, the meeting was adjourned.

It was only a few days after the celebration when Buffy captured the feys of Lutz’s former lovers in the Orbs of Thezula. As she stared at the glowing spheres, she determined that the time had arrived for Dvalin and his fellow dwarves to return to the Deeper Well. Over the years, they had imprisoned many Maiar, and the dwarves needed to build many sarcophagi to house the trapped souls. With a heavy heart, the Slayer transported all the dwarves of the Deeper Well back home along with the thousands of orbs that had been stored at Hírilost.

Once the dwarves were gone, Buffy’s thoughts turned back to warfare. Before attacking Marduk’s cities, she consulted with many of the lords from the various races, including Lutz.

“Let us strike Eshnunna first,” advised Lutz, “for it is situated in the northernmost regions of Marduk’s territory and is isolated from all the other cities. We’ll be able to defeat the enemy city with relative ease. I have spies there, and if I can inform them of the impending attack, we can wreak havoc from within the walls as well.”

“You’re thinking along the same lines as me, Lutz,” remarked a smiling Buffy. “My strategy from the very beginning was to see if we could pull off a coup d'état in every city. Victory will be so much sweeter if we can have Marduk’s own people turn on him.”

“Then I deem that a quick trip to Eshnunna is called for. We can meet our contacts and put our stratagem into action,” suggested Lutz.

“I agree,” replied Buffy.

“We should leave immediately,” proposed the former servant of Morgoth.

The entire council unanimously agreed with Lutz’s plan.

“I wish to accompany my beloved on such a journey,” offered Sharru-kin, looking hopefully at Buffy. “You will need an escort and I will see to it that no harm comes to you.” She exchanged a look with Lutz, neither was fond of that idea.

“I’d love for you to come, Sharru-kin,” answered Buffy. “But you’ll stand out like a sore thumb. This is… a covert operation, no one can know that we’ve infiltrated Marduk’s city. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here. Lutz and I will go.”

The young mortal king did not like hearing that at all, he feared that the two Ainur would end up consummating their ‘relationship’ while away from Sumer. He wasn’t naive; he noticed the way they ogled each other when they thought he wasn’t looking. A shadow fell upon Sharru-kin’s heart as Buffy bid him and her kin farewell before leaving Eridu with Lutz. The twosome vanished from the council chamber in Eanna to Buffy’s halls in Uruk. After packing some warm clothing, the two headed for the stables.

“Your lover seems displeased at our going alone on this journey,” remarked the Maia as they walked across the courtyard.

“Yeah, well, he’ll get over it,” she replied tersely. The Maia sensed the coldness of her reply and decided that it was in his best interest to keep his mouth shut in regards to her mortal lover.

It wasn’t Lutz’s comment that put Buffy in a bad mood; it was the thought of entering the frigid regions of the north on horseback. She and her companion could not just appear within the walled city, they would have to enter through the main gates. According to the Maia, it was of the utmost importance that the city dwellers witness their arrival by conventional means. Any obvious use of magic would draw unwanted attention to them and alert Marduk of their presence. Since Lutz had visited all the cities in the East outside Sumer, he knew that the safest place for Buffy to teleport them was a forest located a couple of leagues from the wall of Eshnunna.

By the time the Slayer had mounted her horse, her appearance had changed. She no longer resembled the short, blonde-haired mortal woman. Her hair and eyes were dark, like most Sumerians, and she added several inches to her height. She actually liked the idea of traveling incognito. It meant that she could be whoever she wanted to be, which would be a nice change of pace.

Buffy used her magics to transport them to the woods that lay to the southwest of Eshnunna. To her dismay, they’d have to ride in a torrential downpour under thick, dark-gray clouds. The winds blew fiercely from the northeast, sending the driving rain straight into their faces. Their cloaks did little to ward off the cold rain and within a matter of minutes, they were both soaked to the bone. To make matters worse, it had been years since the Slayer had last rode a horse, and her discomfort only increased with each long, miserable, passing moment. The six-mile trek seemed more like sixty under those conditions.

When they had neared the western gates of the city, Lutz finally broke the silence.

“Let me do the talking as men hold more authority over women in these parts.” The shivering Slayer scowled upon hearing that. “We cannot go by our true names, so you can call me Zahir, and you shall be my wife… What name shall I call you?”

Buffy thought for a moment. “Astarte,” she replied between chattering teeth.

“Is that not one of your holy names?”

“Not many know it.”

“Hmm, perhaps we should call you… ”

“NO! That’s the name I want to go by. I will not answer to anything else,” she said crossly.

“Alright, alright. I’ll honor your wish. Astarte you shall be,” he answered in an attempt to pacify the temperamental Slayer.

The gatekeeper questioned Lutz before allowing them entry into the city. The rain continued to pour down in sheets, leaving no question as to why they found the streets deserted. No one in his or her right mind would be out on a day like that.

It took them fifteen minutes to reach the inn. Buffy refused Lutz’s assistance, preferring to dismount from her steed by herself. It was unfortunate that she didn’t take the Maia up on his offer; she leapt off the horse into a puddle that was nearly knee-deep. Cursing under her breath, she sought refuge beneath the canopy in front of the main doors of the inn, leaving Lutz with the horses. Not a second later, one of the doors swung open, and the ostler came out pulling the hood of his cloak over his head.

“Go on inside, miss. You’ll find it much warmer on the other side of these doors.” Buffy didn’t need to be told twice. She dashed through the door, eager to be out of the rain once and for all. The bells attached to the door jingled loudly as it slammed shut. Buffy pulled her hood back and scanned the small vestibule with weary eyes as she waited for Lutz to join her with their luggage. Beyond the archway to her right, she heard a chorus of boisterous voices.

“I’ll be right with you,” came a man’s booming voice above the raucous sounds from the adjoining room.

She let out a sigh of relief when Lutz finally joined her with their belongings a few minutes later.

“Remember, let me do the talking,” he whispered, placing their wet bags on the bench by the door.

“Just hurry up, I’m freezing,” she moaned, trembling from the cold.

A few moments later, the innkeeper appeared behind the reception desk. He gave Buffy the once over before turning his complete attention to Lutz. “What can I do you for this evening, my good man?” he asked in his most pleasant voice.

“We seek accommodations for the night,” replied Lutz, pulling off his gloves.

While the Maia tended to business with the innkeeper, Buffy stood on the worn carpet flexing her feet in an attempt to squeeze the excess water from within her boots. She couldn’t recall the last time that she had felt so miserable. She was cold, wet, tired, her ass and legs ached horribly, and she stunk like wet horse, (which in itself was a very unpleasant odor.)

“This way, please,” said another man who acted as their porter. Grabbing their wet bags, he led them through the door to their left and up a flight of stairs. As they walked down the narrow corridor, Buffy heard the wind howling against the window at the end of the drafty hall. “Here we are, number eleven,” said the man, fitting the key into the lock. “Wash room is down the hall, last door on your right.”

The Slayer looked hard at Lutz and mouthed, “No private bathroom!” The Maia dismissed her words with a shrug of his shoulders.

The porter opened the door, allowing them to enter first. The small dingy room didn’t appeal to Buffy at all. It was dark and dank. The bed, which took up nearly all of the space, was so worn that she could see the depressions in the mattress from its previous occupants. A frayed blanket in a hideous shade of green lay on the bed and matched the curtains that covered the only window in the room. The only bright spot was the roaring fire in the fireplace; the Slayer made a beeline for it.

“Good evening,” said the man, closing the door behind him.

“You didn’t have to be so rude,” remarked Lutz as he undid the clasp of his cloak.

“What?” she asked innocently.

“That look on your face speaks volumes,” he replied, stretching his cloak over the back of the only chair in the room. “The room’s not that bad.”

“Pfft,” she sounded. With her back to the fire, Buffy looked the room over with an expression of utter disgust on her face. “Look at this place - it’s a hovel! Surely, you could’ve found some place nicer, cleaner… more suitable for me!”

“You’ll have to make do for tonight.”

“These people don’t even comprehend the word ‘cleanliness.’ Look at the dust,” complained the Slayer, brushing her finger against the lamp on the table beside the bed. “Ew, it’s sticky,” she whined, vigorously wiping her finger on her wet cloak. “Eru only knows what that is.” She shuddered at the thought.

“It’s probably oil residue,” replied the Maia as he sat on the bed pulling off his wet boots. He found her little diatribe endearing. “I can see that you’re definitely out of your element. You’ve grown too accustomed to those magnificent palaces of yours. Tomorrow we’ll have lodgings more to your liking, I deem.” Buffy groaned in response. After such a wretched journey, she yearned to rest in a clean, warm bed. That apparently wasn’t going to happen. “You know, my dear Inanna, it seems to me that you’re out of touch with the plight of the common man. It might do you some good to be around the lowly mortals for a few days.”

“I’m not out of touch with the mortals,” protested the Slayer, taking a seat on the chair. She started unlacing her boots. “I just prefer to surround myself in beauty. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Perhaps not. But you should spend more time amongst the mortals, you never know, you may learn something from them.”

Buffy chortled at Lutz’s comment. “Yeah, like how to spread disease through lack of hygiene.”

“Humility.”

“Huh?” She looked up at the Maia with a curious expression on her face.

“You could stand to learn a little something called humility,” he answered, pulling off his wet stockings.

She pulled off her boots and placed them by the hearth. “I bow down to no one. I’m a Vala; people humble themselves before me, not vice versa!”

Lutz studied her for a moment before breaking out into laughter. “Spoken like at true king.” He rose to his feet, standing mere inches from Buffy. “Let me help you out of this,” said the Maia, undoing the clasp of her cloak.

“If you’re attempting to seduce me, don’t bother,” she replied with a smirk. “I’m not about to let my naked flesh touch anything in this squalid room.”

“I was trying to be considerate,” said the Maia, placing her cloak on top of his on the back of the chair. “Since none of your attendants are present, I thought that I’d take it upon myself to help you change out of your wet garments.”

“Yeah, right,” she answered, eyeing Lutz doubtfully. “And that’s supposed to convince me that your intentions are honorable and… pure.”

“I never said that,” responded the Maia, a sly grin on his handsome face. He wrapped his arms around Buffy’s waist. “We both know why we’re here alone together. Our attraction is mutual. Why not surrender ourselves to our passions?”

The Slayer leaned in closer, a seductive look on her face. Her eyes slowly lingered on Lutz’s lips before she raised them to meet his enamored gaze. Desire was overcoming the Maia, so much so, that he wanted to throw her on the bed and take her, willing or not.

“I wouldn’t fuck you in this shit hole for the kingship of Arda,” she cooed with an impish grin before sweeping past him. As she dug through her bags, she continued, “I advise you to push those thoughts out of your mind.” Buffy glanced over her shoulder, that same smile still on her face. “Force yourself on me, and I’ll rip your dick off and shove it down your throat.”

A dumbstruck Lutz stood there, mouth agape, as the Slayer stripped out of her wet gown. If her words were meant to deter him from pursuing his heart’s desire then the Vala of Love was sadly mistaken. Her threat only heightened his yearning for her. She was feisty. And he liked that.

Lutz remained transfixed on the spot until Buffy covered her nudity with a long, dark blue, velvety dress. She turned and faced him, pulling a brush through her damp hair. “Are you gonna change or stay in those wet clothes all night?” she queried, sidestepping him so that she stood before the heat of the crackling fire. The Maia quickly turned his back to her in a desperate attempt to hide his arousal. He took his time rummaging through his satchel in search of dry clothes. “I think we should go downstairs and see if these people can make a decent cup of tea,” she continued, unaffected by the Maia’s brusque demeanor. “I think that’s the only thing that’ll warm me up.” Lutz bit his tongue as he changed out of his soaked garments. He knew how to warm the Slayer up, but wasn’t about to risk losing his favorite appendage by demonstrating his affection for her.

Once the Maia had dressed, he offered his arm to Buffy and together they left the confines of their cramped quarters. Her spirits seemed to lighten as they made their way towards the pub portion of the inn. When they reached the archway, everybody in the room stopped what they were doing and eyed the newcomers before resuming their lively conversations. Lutz took the Slayer by the hand and led her through the throng to an empty table in the back corner.

After ordering a pot of tea and some of the inn’s ‘famous’ apple cake, the couple remained huddled together, people watching. As they sat there, making snide remarks about the locals, Buffy came to realize that perhaps Lutz was right - she was out of touch with commoners. Over the years, she had spent most of her time with the aristocrats of Sumer, not the common folk. Was it possible that she could learn something from the simple people that now surrounded her? The Slayer had her doubts. To her, the inhabitants of Eshnunna were nothing but heathens. Not only did they follow the wrong god, they took no pride in how they presented themselves in public. Those in the pub acted like a bunch of uncouth buffoons, carousing in the middle of the afternoon when they should be doing something more productive with their time. She found it disgraceful.

Yet their little stop to the inn paid off in one way: they overheard that the king’s only son lay dying from a grievous wound suffered by some untamed beast while on a sojourn outside the city. Rumor had it that the poor prince would not last the night. Buffy and Lutz looked at one another; both astonished by the news.

“That is indeed good news,” whispered the Maia excitedly in her ear. “With the king vulnerable, we should gather our armies in Uruk and raid the city. The king won’t know what hit him until it’s too late.” Lutz seemed overjoyed at the prospect of war.

Buffy sat in silence while she mulled over the latest turn of events. While she was prepared to unleash her troops on Eshnunna, destroying any that contested her will, that latest news made her reconsider her strategy. Perhaps it would be more advantageous for her to approach the situation in a more god-like fashion as opposed to warrior-like. If she could use the king’s grief to her profit, she could avoid shedding blood needlessly, while gaining command of Marduk’s northernmost city.

“No,” she finally said. “Let’s approach this from a different angle first. If that doesn’t work, well, then we’ll resort to more drastic measures.”

Lutz was crestfallen. “That wasn’t our strategy.”

“You don’t have any children, do you?” asked a scowling Buffy.

“Er, no. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything. I pity the poor bastard. No one should have to watch their child die.” She stared at the dregs in the bottom of her cup. “Some people are ruled by their emotions. It makes them stronger or weaker, depending on the circumstances. Maybe if I turn the king’s sorrow into joy, he’ll be more apt to see things my way.” The Slayer glanced up at the Maia. “If I show him that Marduk has forsaken him… ” Her words trailed off, her lips curled into a smile.

“He’ll change his allegiance to you,” added Lutz, finishing her thought aloud.

“Exactly.”

“But how?”

“Leave it to me, my darling.”

The Maia smiled. “I see the cogs turning.” She chuckled.

Later that night, as Lutz lay sleeping alone in the bed, Buffy sat in the wooden chair staring into the flickering flames of the fire. She was nervous about astral projecting without the water of Ulmo to protect her. She hoped and prayed that no malevolent spirit would claim her hröa while she was away. Her fey then left its house, rising higher and higher until she hovered above the silent city. It seemed like it had been ages since she last felt the freedom of traveling through the air in spirit form. She loved the experience; nothing fazed her including the elements. The Slayer then soared above the dimly lit streets towards the king’s halls beside the temple of Marduk.

While the townspeople may have been sleeping, none in the king’s house seemed to be. Already, the occupants had entered a state of mourning. Buffy could sense the anguish of the people long before hearing the wailing of the women of the household. The prince had died before she had reached his bedchamber. She shot out of the house like a rocket in search of the fey of the fallen young man. She caught sight of his phantom form heading in the direction of Valinor. Utilizing her gifts, she summoned the fey to come to her instead of her brother. She bound the young man’s spirit to her before leading him back to her body at the inn.

As soon as her fey entered its hröa, she opened her eyes. The ghostly form of the young man hovered before her, waiting for further instructions. ‘Do not fear me,’ she said with her mind. ‘I’m your salvation.’ She then pursed her lips together and inhaled deeply; causing the young man’s fey to enter her mouth like wisps of smoke. Having his soul merge with hers was euphoric, to say the least. Buffy spent the remainder of the night comforting the young man within her. She couldn’t help but be amazed at yet another newfound ability.

Lutz stirred awake at dawn. He couldn’t believe that the Slayer had chosen to spend the entire night sitting in the hard wooden chair instead of lying beside him.

“You look tired,” observed the Maia. “Are you up for a short journey this morning?” He got up, pulled the curtain aside, only to see that it was drizzling outside. “Looks like we’re going to have to endure more rain.”

“That’s okay,” she replied, anxious to be on their way.

Within fifteen minutes, they were on their horses, riding through the wet, cobblestone streets of Eshnunna. They were not going directly to the king’s house, but to an associate of Lutz’s first. They were ushered into the stately four-story brick structure by one of the servants of Atif, a respected councilor to the king. Lutz had met the mortal years ago, before his rise to power. Buffy and the Maia were seated on a gold and red striped couch in the front parlor while they waited for the master of the house. Several minutes later, a middle-aged man dressed entirely in black entered the room escorted by another man. When his gaze fell upon his guests, a smile came to his face as he shuffled his companion from the room. He then shut the double doors.

“Zahir, my old friend,” said the mortal, embracing the Maia. “It has been a long while.” He pulled out of the hug, examining his friend with wonderment in his eyes. “You haven’t aged a bit.”

“Well, love has a way of keeping one youthful,” chuckled Lutz, shifting his eyes to the Slayer.

“Ah, yes,” replied Atif, leering at Buffy. “My, she is a lovely one.” He took a step towards her, his eyes inspecting her slowly. “You are indeed the fairest one yet,” he continued in a low lascivious voice. The man then reached out his hand and grabbed Buffy’s breast, causing her to gasp in shock. The stunned Slayer made a move to knock the mortal’s hand from her person, but Lutz seized her before she could strike the man. The Maia wrapped his arms around her, pulling her out of Atif’s clutches.

“I’m afraid that you misunderstand, Atif,” said Lutz. “Astarte is my wife. I do not intend to share her with any.”

Buffy’s eyes darted to the Maia. She couldn’t believe that that mortal thought that she was one of Lutz’s whores.

“Oh, er, I am sorry,” replied the embarrassed mortal, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red. “I assumed… er, well… er, forgive me, my dear Lady,” apologized a stammering Atif. “It’s just… er… ”

“No harm done,” interrupted Lutz, slapping the man affectionately on the back. “So tell me, Atif, what is this news I hear about the king’s son?” he asked, steering the mortal away from the Slayer.

While Lutz talked with the mortal about the prince, Buffy wandered around the room looking at the various portraits on the wall. She couldn’t help but notice that Atif watched her closely from the corner of his eye. It seemed obvious that, in the past, Lutz had dangled his ‘maidens’ before the mighty lord like the proverbial carrot. It angered the Slayer that the man mistook her for one of the Maia’s whores, more so than she let on.

She sniggered to herself. She couldn’t wait until she revealed her true identity to the inhabitants in Eshnunna, especially Atif. Who the hell was he to touch her like that? She was the powerful Inanna Ishtar, Goddess of Love and War, greatest of the Valier, and Deliverer of Mankind, not some simple fair-faced Sumerian woman. She was really regretting her decision to travel incognito. Buffy definitely preferred being who she really was - the Supreme God of the East, who commanded respect and loyalty from all that followed her, not some unknown mortal. She would have to bide her time. For now, she’d have to play the role of Astarte, the devoted and obedient wife of Zahir.

“…What do you say?” Buffy was staring at the portrait of the young man whose spirit now resided within her. “Astarte?” Lutz placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a little shake.

“Huh?” She turned towards the Maia.

“Atif has invited us to join him and his family for breakfast. Hungry?”

She glanced at the mortal who stood a few feet away. “As long as our host keeps his hands to himself,” she said with disdain. “I’m sure his wife would be most displeased to learn of his… groping a woman of noble blood.”

“Now, now, my Lady, I did apologize for that,” replied Atif, wringing his hands nervously.

“Be thankful that I hold no power in your city,” she smirked, taking a step closer to the man. “If thy right hand offends thee, cut it off… ”

Lutz laughed, sliding his arm around Buffy’s waist. “That’s my Astarte. She’s quite the jester.” He gave her ‘the look’.

Buffy rolled her eyes; she’d play along. “Yeah, I’m all with the jest.”

They then experienced one of those awkward silent moments. “How bout that breakfast, Atif?” Lutz said in an attempt to lighten the mounting tension in the room.

“Yes, of course.”

Buffy and Lutz actually enjoyed a decent meal with Atif and his family before they accompanied him and his household to the king’s halls. The Slayer was absolutely thrilled by the number of people gathered outside the king’s fortress to pay their respects. There was no doubt in her mind that she was about to take control over Eshnunna, one way or another.

Lutz couldn’t help but notice the Slayer’s change of attitude. She had been in a foul mood ever since they had left Uruk, but now she appeared somewhat cheerful. The Maia could see the cogs in her mind turning. He knew that something dreadfully spectacular would soon take place, but had no idea of what it could be. He only wished that she would let him in on her plan, Lutz hated being left in the dark.

Only the highest of officials got to express their condolences to lord Tadeusz in person, Buffy and Lutz included. The king was under the impression that Lutz was Atif’s kin, visiting from Nippur. At least, that’s what the councilor had told the guards, allowing them an all access pass to the king.

“My deepest sympathies, my lord,” said Atif, taking the king’s hand in his. “Lazaros was indeed a great young man. What a tragedy that Eshnunna has lost one of such decent and noble birth.” Buffy watched the councilor’s interaction with the king very closely. “If there is anything I can do… ”

“Thank you, my dear Atif. Unfortunately, your words of solace bring me no peace,” replied the sorrowful king. “How I wish to have my only son returned to me… alas, that cannot be… ”

Buffy saw her opening and took it. “Excuse me, lord,” she interjected, stepping out of the queue.

The king’s solemn eyes turned ireful as he fixed them on the Slayer. “It is heresy for a woman to interrupt while two men are speaking!” Tadeusz glared at her while his wife wore a curious expression on her face.

“What?” queried the dumbfounded Slayer. She had never heard anything of the sort before.

“I beg you to forgive my wife, lord,” pleaded Lutz, giving Buffy a severe look before he continued. “Sadly, Astarte disagrees with the religious doctrine of Marduk… ”

The people in the room, both men and women, gasped in shock. They were horrified that one had the audacity to defy the canon that their god had set into law. The Slayer remained undaunted.

“It is sacrilege to… ”

“Oh, come on now,” said Buffy, inching closer to the king. “Don’t give me that sacrilege crap.”

“Take her to the dungeons!” barked the lord of Eshnunna. The king’s guards moved towards her. Things were not going as well as Buffy had hoped. But there was no way that she was about to allow some mortal to treat her like that. With a wave of her hand, she sent the guards flying backwards, knocking several bystanders to the ground in the process.

“She’s a witch!” screamed someone within the chamber.

“The woman is evil!” yelled another.

Amid the confusion, Lutz uttered, “Now, you’ve done it,” from the corner of his mouth. “I thought you were trying to avoid a violent confrontation.”

“I am,” she mouthed to the Maia before approaching the king. When she had reached his throne, she placed her hands on either arm of the chair and leaned forward, only inches from Tadeusz face. “The laws of Amarutu Marduk are null and void,” continued a sneering Buffy. “He is nothing but a pretender. The time has come for the rightful King to claim the throne.”

“You’re… you’re Inanna Ishtar in disguise, aren’t you?” asked a terrified Tadeusz, recoiling in fear.

“The one and only, sweetheart,” she answered with a wide grin on her face. Buffy’s appearance suddenly changed back to that of the short, blonde Slayer, the form that she preferred wearing above all others. Many people frantically fled the chamber when they witnessed that bit of magic; others fell to their knees, praying for Marduk to intervene. They recalled the words that their divine lord had told their forebears: that the day would come when the Goddess of Death and Destruction would wage war against him and his people.

Lutz, Atif and the mortal councilor’s household attempted to keep the armed guards at bay while Buffy spoke with the king.

The hair on the back of her neck suddenly stood on end; one of the guards was creeping up on the Slayer, a dagger clutched in his hand. In one swift motion, she pivoted, grabbing the man’s arm that held the weapon, snapping it in two as she wrenched it behind his back. The man cried out in pain as the momentum allowed her to gain the upper hand; she subdued the culprit with a chokehold. Buffy kicked the blade that fell to the floor over to the Maia.

“That’s some welcome for the Supreme God of the East,” she spat, restraining the struggling man. The Slayer locked eyes with Tadeusz. “Let me show my appreciation for your hospitality.” She then twisted the neck of her captive; a loud cracking sound rang out in the chamber.

“Amgad!” screamed the horrified king, nearly rising from his throne until Buffy threw the limp form in her arms to his feet.

Before the body came to a standstill, she took a seat on the arm of the queen’s chair, wrapping her arm around the petrified woman’s neck. “Tell your men to back down or your lovely… er, wife gets it next,” warned the Slayer, tightening her grip on the weeping woman. Tadeusz motioned to his men; they stopped brawling with Buffy’s companions. “Good boy,” she said mockingly. She glanced at the fallen man on the stone floor. “I didn’t want to do it,” she said softly before shifting her gaze to the king, widening her grin, “but something in me made me do it.”

The chamber was nearly silent except for the muffled cries from some of the occupants. Buffy turned her attention to the trembling queen within her grasp. “It’s okay, sweetie pie, I’m not gonna hurt you,” she said soothingly, stroking the woman’s dark hair. “But I think I’m more deserving to be sitting in this chair right now, you know. My ass is sore… it’s all the horseback riding. I’m just not used to it.”

The queen looked at Buffy with wide eyes, tears running down her face, as she slowly rose from the chair. “Let me help you,” said the Slayer, assisting the woman to her feet. “See, I’m a woman of my word.” She plopped down on the throne as the queen ran to her husband’s side; her hands gripped his shoulder as she leaned against his chair for support. “Hmm,” continued Buffy, scrutinizing the couple, her eyes kept moving from one to the other. “Yeah, I think I do see the family resemblance.” She faced Lutz, her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t tell me that Marduk condones incestuous relationships.”

“He not only condones it, he encourages it. Dear, old Marduk believes that’s a sure way to preserve the noble bloodlines,” answered the Maia with a wry grin.

A look of revulsion came to the Slayer’s face. “That’s so… gross.” She eyed the king and queen. Her expression turned thoughtful. “Brother marries sister and gives birth to a son… so that makes the kid your nephew too.” She looked up at Lutz. “Is that right?”

Before the Maia could answer, Tadeusz said, “Half-sister. My wife is my half-sister.”

Buffy fixed her eyes back on the king. “That is so fucking sick.” She shook her head in disgust. “Incest is an abomination and I will not tolerate it in my lands. Marduk is one twisted fuck.” She looked up at Lutz. “Is his ‘royal anus’ wed to his sister too?” She was of course referring to the god.

“No,” came the reply.

The king then turned to her, his eyes blazing with fury. “You will pay for insulting my god, evil one… ”

“Evil one?” repeated the Slayer with a chuckle. “You’re calling me evil when you’ve been doing the nasty with your sister?”

“HALF-SISTER!” barked a red-faced Tadeusz, spittle flying from his lips.

SMACK! Buffy backhanded the mortal, knocking out a few of his teeth. The people in the chamber howled in despair as the queen attempted to comfort her brother-husband. Tadeusz spit out three teeth mixed with blood; they landed on the dead man at his feet. With a shaky hand, he wiped the trickle of blood from his chin.

“How dare you speak to me like that!” hissed the Slayer, rubbing the top of her throbbing hand. “I will not tolerate insolence from anybody, especially a mortal!” Things were definitely not going as she had expected. Buffy had hoped that she could convince the king to switch his allegiance to her without any violence, but it appeared that that option was nearly out the door. As she attempted to regain her composure, the whimpering sounds from the occupants became more pronounced. “Listen, Tadeusz,” she began in a much calmer tone. “I don’t want to hurt anybody. I swear. But you must not forget that I’m superior to you. I’m superior to your kind. I’m superior to Marduk. I’m the Holiest of the Holies. And it would be wise for you not to forget that.”

She leaned towards the king, her arms folded on the arms of the chair. “I came here with good intentions. I came her with a proposition for you, Tadeusz… ” The king refused to me make eye contact with her. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, god damn it!” she blurted out in rage. It annoyed her that the mortal was being so disrespectful. The lord of Eshnunna slowly turned his gaze to hers.

“That’s better,” she said. “As I was saying… I’ve come with a proposition for you. I, the great Inanna Ishtar, can bring back your only son.” The king’s eyes widened. “That’s right. I own his soul. He’s in my possession. If you renounce your allegiance to Marduk, I’ll bring him back. I’ll make him whole again. You can have your wish come true. Lazaros will come back to you.”

“How do I know it won’t be some demonic creature masquerading as my son?” he whispered, his voice breaking as he spoke. His cheek was turning purple from the blow that Buffy had delivered.

“I’m not the creator of evil, my dear. That’s not what I do… that’s more along the lines of Marduk, isn’t it? Breeding humans to beasts… that’s wrong on so many levels… But that’s beside the point. I am justice. I am love. I’m am the bringer of peace and the slayer of wickedness.” She then licked her palm and placed it on the king’s swollen cheek, instantly taking away the painful throbbing in his face. “I am the healer of the sick. I am the champion of Eru Ilúvatar. I am mother to those reborn. I am the wielder of the Light and the lover of mankind.

“Do not allow yourself to be deceived by the pretender Marduk. He has unlawfully taken my seat as the King of the East. He names me Goddess of Death and Destruction only because he knows that doom is upon him. I will defeat him. He cannot run from fate.”

“I do not deny your powers, Holy One, but you did not answer my question. How do I know that you’re not deceiving me with false promises? Tempting me with that that I desire most, only to… ”

“Give you the shaft?” she said, finishing the man’s sentence.

“Precisely.”

“I’m not a liar,” she responded. “I’m capable of doing things that Marduk can’t do. Where’s your god in your time of sorrow? And how exactly did your son die, Tadeusz? Do you know?” He gave her a bewildered look. “I do. He was killed by one of the pretender’s hybrid beasts.” The people in the room gasped once again. “That’s right. Your son died at the hands of Marduk,” she added, nodding her head. “What kind of despicable lord would do that to someone that they proclaim to love… ” She fell silent for a moment, letting the tension build. “Unless he that you claim to love above all others has forsaken you, that he thinks so little of you that you should lose your only son to me. Is that who you wish to worship, the killer of your kin?”

Buffy grabbed the king’s hand between hers. “Take me to him. Take me to Lazaros and I will bring him back to you.” She caressed the top of his hand. “I will grant your wish, Tadeusz. I promise.”

“Can you really, my Lady?” he asked hopefully, tears spilling from his eyes. “Can you bring back my son?”

“Take me to him.”

The king led Buffy to the temple of Marduk located next to his own halls. A parade of people, including Lutz, Atif and the mortal’s household followed closely behind. After climbing the steps of the ziggurat, they entered the temple where even more people were congregated, waiting to pay their last respects to the fallen prince. The hordes of mourners were escorted out of the Holy Chamber of Marduk, allowing only the king and his train access to the great chamber. Buffy permitted only a few people to join her on the sprawling semicircular dais where the body of Lazaros rested upon a black marble slab held aloft by the horns of four marble rams. As she made her way towards the prince’s hröa, her eyes were drawn to the enormous stone statue of Marduk standing directly behind the table. She was unimpressed by the craftsmanship of the monument. The mortals’ skills did not even come close to matching that of the elves or dwarves.

When the Slayer had reached the table, she looked down at the body of Lazaros. He was dressed in his princely regalia, a sword clasped in his left hand, a magnificent dagger attached to his belt. She pulled the knife from the bejeweled sheath.

“Zahir, come here,” she ordered. The Maia came to her side. “Hold his mouth open for me.” Lutz did as he was told. Buffy held her arm over the dead man’s opened mouth before slicing her wrist with the blade. A stream of blood poured from the wound into the mortal’s mouth. Normally, she would heal the wounds by dripping her blood directly onto the injured areas, but since the prince was dressed in his finery, she decided to heal his body from the inside out. She uttered a spell in Quenya that would speed up the healing process. When the Slayer felt a little lightheaded, she licked the incision on her arm, healing it instantly.

“Behold the powers of Inanna Ishtar!” she proclaimed loudly before the congregation. She brushed Lutz’s hands away before placing her mouth to the mortal’s open mouth. She then released Lazaros’ spirit from her body, a soft white light began emanating from both her and the dead man. The light increased intensity until it flashed brilliantly for a few moments, blinding all the spectators. The light faded from the mortal yet still radiated from Buffy’s form. She withdrew her mouth from his, yet continued to lean over the young man. “Hear the sound of my voice, Lazaros. Awake… Awake.”

The young man blinked his eyes open. Slowly he stirred causing the spectators to shriek. Buffy smiled.

“My Lady,” he whispered in a hoarse voice.

“Rise, my son.” She helped the young man to a sitting position.

“It cannot be!” said the stunned king. “How is this possible?”

“Lazaros,” cried the young man’s mother, throwing her arms around her son’s neck.

The Slayer instructed the woman to back off. “He’s disoriented. Let him get his bearings.”

After a few minutes, Lazaros reached for the knife in Buffy’s hand. “May I?” he asked. She handed him the dagger. The young man looked at the weapon as if it were some sacred relic. He licked the blood from the blade, savoring the taste of the Slayer’s life force. He then leapt off the marble slab, staring at the Vala of Love with awe-struck eyes. He fell to his knees, taking her hand in his. “I am forever indebted to you, most magnificent one. You are, by all rights, the true King of the East and I hereby pledge my love and allegiance to you, o’ glorious Inanna.” He kissed the top of her hand. “Command me, mighty one.”

Buffy kissed the top of the mortal’s head. “Rise, my son.” The young man stood, towering over the Slayer. She placed her hand on his heart and whispered, “Do what you will with the gifts I have granted you.”

The young man turned and faced his parents. He walked up to his mother and embraced her, uttering something in her ear that none could hear. Tears steamed down the queen’s face as Lazaros stepped before the king.

“Do you still doubt the true heir to the throne of the East, father? Has Inanna Ishtar proved that she is a God of her word? Will you convert your allegiance from Marduk to her?” The king eyed his son with disbelief, unsure whether it was really him.

“How do I know that you’re my son? How do I know that you are indeed my beloved Lazaros?” He looked skeptically at the young man. “No son of mine would speak such blasphemy.”

“Can you not look into my eyes and see that it is me, father?” Tadeusz continued to scrutinize the young man, but said not one word. Lazaros let out a heavy sigh. “It grieves me, Tadeusz, lord of Eshnunna. It grieves me that you cannot recognize your own kin by looking into my eyes… The great Inanna Ishtar has bestowed upon me another gift - the gift of discernment.” The young man furrowed his brow. “You never planned to change your allegiance from Marduk.” He took a step towards his father, shaking his head disappointingly. “Then this is a very sad day.”

Lazaros then rammed his blade in his father’s stomach. “You’re a fool, father. Your fate shall be the same as your brother.” He then repeatedly stabbed Tadeusz in the stomach and chest amongst a room of gaping natives. None of the king’s men intervened in the act of patricide.

“Seal off the city,” yelled Lazaros to his men. “I forbid any from leaving Eshnunna.” He tossed his father’s body to the floor. Blood dripped from the dagger that remained clutched in his hand. “Atif!” shouted the new king. “Come forth.” The mortal councilor apprehensively approached the young man.

“What can I do for you, my lord?” asked the councilor.

Lazaros grabbed the man by the arm and pulled him over to the marble table. “You have violated my God and shall be punished accordingly.”

“NO!” screamed Atif as the mortal held the councilor’s outstretched arm on the slab. “Please, Lazaros! I beg of you! Please don’t!”

“If thy right hand offends thee, cut it off!” declared the king before bringing his blade down on Atif’s wrist, severing it from his arm. The councilor let out an earsplitting scream that resonated in the chamber. “Learn your place, Atif. Disrespect my God again and your punishment will be most severe.” He wiped the blood on the man’s cloak before adding, “Get him out of my sight.” A couple of men from the councilor’s household grabbed the weeping man, taking him out of the temple.

The young king then approached Buffy. “Thank you, my Lord. I will see to it that all traces of the pretender are destroyed. Is there anything that I can do to show my devotion?”

“You know what to do, king of Eshnunna,” she answered with a smile. “But as for me… a hot bath and a warm bed is all I ask for. It’s been a long night.”

The young man smiled broadly. “That is but a simple request and one that I can easily fulfill.” Lazaros then called over his mother, instructing her to take care of Buffy.

After a hot bath, the Slayer crawled into the magnificent canopied bed that was readied for her. Exhausted, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Buffy slept the day away, not waking until dusk. She opened her eyes, only to find Lutz lying beside her, his green eyes keenly observing her.

“Have you been watching me sleep?” she queried with a yawn.

“I find watching you sleep more appealing then watching the new king execute the loyal followers of Marduk.”

“Lazaros is executing them!” she said excitedly, rolling onto her side. “Damn, he seems to be one of those take-charge kinda kings. I’m impressed.”

“What happened back there? How did you get Lazaros’ soul?”

The Slayer chuckled. “I’m a Vala of many skills.”

“It would be nice if you had shared your plan with me. That was quite a surprise back there. I mean, cutting of Atif’s hand… was that really necessary?”

“I had nothing to do with that. That was Lazaros’ doing.” He gave her a suspicious look. “He overheard my comment and, well… carried it out.”

“If thy right hand offends thee, cut it off,” he said softly. “Would you have the young king do the same to me?” he whispered huskily. Lutz then placed his right hand on her breast, gently massaging it. “Does my hand offend thee, o’ glorious one?” he queried, mocking the voice of Lazaros.

“You still have it, don’t you?”

“You are an enigma, my dear Inanna. How I relish the thought of being with you, learning from you.” He pulled her into his arms. “But I cannot endure your torments any longer, you’ve made me wait long enough.” He pressed his lips to hers, eager to experience the loving bliss of the beautiful Inanna Ishtar…