ISHTAR
THE CELESTIAL REALM
4 WEEKS LATER…
THE CITY OF LIGHT'S COUNCIL WAS NOW IN SESSION.
Seven celestial thrones were occupied by the inner circle since the reign of the first King of the gods. Seated upon the tallest one was their reigning queen, Ishtar Rimat. Seated to her right was her uninterested husband, Demeter Rimat, and king consort; however, he was not her right hand, that place was taken by Azeraphel, a towering man with burgundy midnight hair and the sharpest of features.
Ishtar rose to address the gathering, "This proposal is not just about diplomacy," she began, "It is about ensuring that the balance between realms is maintained. For too long, the human kingdoms have operated unchecked, thus causing their ambition to grow bolder by the day." Her gaze swept the chamber while the council members murmured in agreement. "I have seen it for myself; they are lost, so clueless about what to do with themselves and the realm they claim as their right to rule."
One councilman cleared his throat, "With no disrespect, my queen—"
"Then why—" Ishtar cut in smoothly, "do I have this feeling that whatever comes out of your mouth next will convince me otherwise, Lord Galawing?"
The man's jaw tightened, but proceeded on with caution, "I am merely stating what we all know. The connection to the human realm has long been severed for several reasons…" he murmured, "they may even call themselves victors over the recent rite of challenge —"
The chamber stilled at Ishtar's illuminated glare, the words withered on his tongue when he opened his mouth to speak, then closed again. She let the silence hang, savoring the thick unease, each man lowering their head, causing her gaze to dull back down.
"That is why we need someone among them." Ishtar continued, pushing off the table, slowly striding around the room. "Someone who can act as a bridge between our realm and theirs. They have complied with our request of one celestial ambassador; we need someone quiet," her eyes narrowed.
Azeraphel's lip curled.
"—loyal, and calculated, Someone who will monitor their actions and report back to us when necessary, someone that can influence their decisions to align with the will of Celestia without them even realizing it. This role would require someone both skilled in diplomacy and powerful enough to represent Heaven's might and, above all, loyal to our cause."
The murmurs grew louder at her suggestion. One of the councilors, a tall figure with silver wings, leaned forward. "And who would you propose for such a delicate task, My Queen?"
Azeraphel sat up straighter upon Ishtar's lips, curving into a faint smile. She stopped at one chair on the opposite side of her, "I propose the Prince, Rhyssan'dsnezhniyah Rimat," looking down at her son.
Azeraphel frowned, his lips parting.
At the mention of his title, all eyes turned toward Rhyssand, his expression remaining calm despite the sudden attention. "Me?" He asked skeptically.
"Who else?" Ishtar exclaimed. "You have proven yourself capable in battle, and your… persuasive nature will serve you well in negotiations. Who better to represent Heaven's interests than its Heir?"
Rhyssand glanced at his father, waiting for some form of protest or approval, but none came. Demeter's eyes flicked briefly to his son before settling on Ishtar.
"Do you have any objections, Demeter?" one of the councilors asked, their voice tinged with curiosity.
The King Consort shifted in his seat, his tone carefully neutral. "Who am I to disagree?"
Rhyssand's jaw tightened at his father's dismissal, though he kept his expression composed.
"All in favor, say amen." Ishtar smiled.
The celestial council had reached a decision. "Amen," the room said without hesitation, all except one.
Azeraphel stood, "It is agreed upon on this day," he said, "The Prince… will be sent as the ambassador of the city of light, to the human realm. May this task bring unity and strength to all realms…"
Ishtar's smile widened, "Thank you, hand, and thank you, councilors. Your Monarchy will not fail you."
As the council members began to disperse, Rhyssand quickly approached his Father, "Are you fucking kidding me?" he muttered.
Demeter's expression guarded. "Mind yourself…"
"You could have at least said something—"
Ishtar approached, "Prepare yourself, my son," she sang sweetly, "The human realm is not as forgiving as ours, but I have faith in you that you will prevail, oh, and the bride has been looking for you, must be the before-the-wedding nerves."
"I will check in on her condition, Mother," Rhyssand mumbled out.
"It is the least you can do," She then looked to her husband, "Shall we turn in?"
Demeter inclined his head.
Rhyssand bowed slightly while he watched his parents leave. His mother's words lingered while they walked away, barely catching Azerpahel's figure storming away.
The Celestial Monarchs walked together through the crystal-like corridor, leading to their private quarters. When they entered, the Servants quickly fled the room, sensing the tension. Clearing the halls. The moment the door to their chambers closed, Ishtar walked through their divided chamber; the silence between them was further apart than their beds. Finally, she turned on him. Her eyes gleamed with fury, but there was an edge of something deeper—disappointment.
Demeter leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed, then sighed. "Out with it then."
Finally, she broke it, her voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. "You did not even show up for our son's Duel," she hissed.
Demeter's jaw cracked. "It was not necessary."
"Not necessary?" Her laugh was bitter as it was humorless. "Our son faced an abomination, and you could not evenbother to stand by him, with him, near him!?"
Demeter shrugged, "He lost. What else is there to talk about?"
Ishtar's eyes were blazing. "He did not just lose. He barely survived! And you were not even there to help him rise! To support him!" She took a step closer, her voice dripping with venom.
Demeter rolled his eyes. "You mean I was not there to support you. Gods, how familiar this all sounds 25 years later. You were there at the altar, too, were you not? I remember it vividly—for the only fact when I said I would not stand by you, nor indulge whatever schemes you cook up in Section Four Underground… the one you still believe I am oblivious to, I meant every word of it." he snared "Just like you were there for his Rite. Was your presence not enough encouragement for him? If not, maybe you are not the mother of the year you think you are."
"Oh—bravo!" she spat. "And the father of the year award goes to Demetrezth Rimat! What are his accomplishments?" She held out a hand of five, bending them one after the other. "Let's see…nothing, nothing, nothing, and… oops, I almost forgot— Nothing!"
If his wife was hoping for a reaction, she would not get one today, yesterday, nor the first; in fact, it only made him more disinterested. "You are the one who brought him here."
"I am not the one who made him! It takes two—"
"Cut the shit—" he snarled, "you took my child and remade him against my wishes from the moment you discovered his power—he has been nothing but a weapon in your eyes, and you will stop at nothing to control it." His voice sharpened. "He has never been my child because he never got to be one, because of you—And now you are furious because I did not coddle him now that he's grown? Make up your mind, Ishtar. When did you ever allow me to be a father?"
"You are so full of excuses…Coddle him?" Her voice rose, echoing off the chamber walls. "I expected you to act like you have a family, not be an indifferent spectator! Or is even that too much to ask?"
He pushed off the wall, his anger finally surfacing. "You think this is indifference?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You are so consumed by your anger for me that you cannot see that it was our son who begged me to help me master his gifts, after you drove him away with your need to control him!"
He let out a bitter laugh as well, "Do not pretend this is about him. You have never once cared about him or what heneeds. You care about how he makes you look. Heaven's perfect heir standing beside a prissy, perfect Princess, I bet the council is breathing down your neck as we speak because of the wedding, the rite…what else have you been up to, Ishtar?"
"Maybe if you had been at council half the time, you would know, the council would not dare to question me, for I am nota Princess, I am their queen!" She hissed, "And do not you dare question my love for him! Everything I have ever done has been—"
"For you." He interrupted coldly.
"For us," she hissed in frustration.
His lips pressed into a thin line. After a long, tense pause, he spoke, his voice quieter but no less sharp. "When are you going to stop pretending this farce of a marriage is going to be anything like the fantasy shit you got played out in your head? Huh? What do you think is going to happen after twenty-six years? I wake up one day and say I love you." Ishtar flinched. "You have built this image of what a perfect realm is supposed to be, and you will tear everything apart to make it a reality. But do not blame me when it does not go the way you planned."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The fire between them simmered, leaving only the sound of their shallow breaths in the charged silence.
"I do not know why I married you," Ishtar said, her voice low but venomous.
"You ordered it."
Ishtar scoffed, brushing past him to stand by the window. The moonlight bathed her in an ethereal glow, but her expression was anything but serene. "You think I planned to bind myself to a man whose vision is so narrow he cannot see the bigger picture?"
"I see the bigger picture, I see how you have used everyone for its cause—my son, the council, and especially me. You made sure you were in the center of the canvas, the most important place."
Her head snapped toward him, her gaze blazing. "Our son," she corrected sharply. "And he is destined to reach greatness, something you will never be able to grasp."
His composure wavered, a flicker of anger breaking through. "Greatness?"
She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I do not see you complaining about your secured position."
"I had the highest position!" Demeter clenched his jaw, "We both know I did not agree to this willingly. No one in their right mind would commit to you willingly, not after knowing who you truly are, a power-hungry manipulator," he growled, "who ruins everything she touches. Do not forget who elevated whom. You are nothing more than a lower-class celestial feeding off of the power of the throne, my…throne."
"Who are you to think you are so much better than me?" she shot back. "You are no saint, Demeter. If you are still looking for someone to blame for the consequences of your actions, look no further than your own reflection! You are just a miserable coward who could not stand up for himself or his realm!"
Demeter's aura light around him flared like a silent warning. In a flash, he closed the distance between them. The silence between them crackled. "You wish to know why I am miserable?" he snarled, stepping even closer. With a sweep of his hand, a burst of light burst between them. A chain of divine silver wrapped around their right arms, glowing, binding. A contract. "It is because I am chained to a woman I cannot even stand, let alone fuck— hell, I cannot even have an affair as an escape out of this marriage." It pulsed once, then vanished into thin air. "So yes, Ishtar. I am fucking miserable."
Ishtar stared at him. For a moment, the only sound was their copy-and-paste breathing, their bodies inches apart as their anger spiraled internally. She stiffened, but still did not answer.
"What is your endgame?" he finally said.
She hesitated at first, then said, "Survival." For the first time, her words sounded genuine, stripped of the bravado.
Demeter watched her, "Survival?" He scoffed, wings fluttering slightly, as if struggling to contain his mounting fury. "Is that what you're still calling it?"
Ishtar's expression hardened, "It is what is necessary." Her lips thinning, "Our realm faces threats from all sides. Right now, our biggest enemy is alive and breathing in the human realm, getting stronger every day, so yes, I am calling it survival—" she breathed out.
"And what about the part he plays?" Demeter asked. "What do you call that?"
Ishtar clicked her tongue, "Our son's power…is a gift that has not been seen since the first unity of the gods, let alone first the king, and I intend to use it to protect our realm."
Demeter's eyes narrowed, "Now it is our realm?" he took another step forward, closing the distance between them. "Was that before you took my name and crown or after?"
"Maybe if you rethought my offer—" she was cut off by Demeter reaching out, grabbing her neck, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, his touch no longer gentle but possessive and rough.
"I want no part in it," he growled out.
Ishtar's eyes widened at the sudden contact, her body tensing under his grip. "Let go of me," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "You forget your place, I am your queen—" She tried to pull away, but his hold was firm, his strength overwhelming her.
"Regrettably, you are my wife first." His grip only tightened, "I will not stand by and watch my wife, corrupt my son." his words are a seething whisper. "I could not give a shit about this realm or its queen, but I give a shit about my son; that is the only reason you are still alive."
In that moment, Ishtar's mask of composure slipped. Her eyes softened, and a flicker of vulnerability crossed her face. Just when it looked like she was yielding, she pushed him away with a burst of magic, her wings beating fiercely, creating a gust of wind that sent Demeter back across the room.
"Why wait? You're going to have to kill me to stop me, anyway." She hissed. "So what are you waiting for?"
Demeter's eyes flared with golden anger. "So be it," he growled, his wings spreading wide, the feathers rustling with suppressed rage.
In a blur of motion, they lunged in union, but instead of fulfilling his promise, his lips crushed hers in a passionate, yet violent kiss. Their mouths clashed, teeth clashing, tongues tangling in a battle for dominance. She resisted at first, her nails digging into his shoulders as she pushed against him. But then her resistance melted into a different kind of fervor. His hand reached up, gripping her crown as he tore it from her head, letting it fall to the ground. Her hands moved to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as their anger transformed into something darker, something they both refused to name. She clung to him as if daring him to push her away, her nails digging into his shoulders. He then lifted her onto the edge of the table, his movements forceful and unyielding.
"Is this what you want, Tish?" he growled against her neck, "To remind me of what little control I have left?"
"And so what if it is?" she whispered venomously against his lips.
Demeter's grip tightened; his hands were rough when he pulled her closer, deepening their kiss. "What is it? Speak the words, we both know to be true." His hand slid down, grasping the hem of her silken gown and pulling it upwards, exposing her long, slender legs. "Say that I have failed being a King, a husband… and father."
She broke the kiss, "You can still be all of those things…" she gasped for breath while reaching for his belt, unfastening it with trembling fingers, "And so much more."
His hands still roamed over her body. She arched her back, her breasts pushing against his chest, her nipples hardening at his rough touch. "What a shame…" His fingers trailed down her stomach, slipping between her thighs to find her wetness, claiming his control back. A pity that this was the only way to achieve it.
"…I no longer wish to be either." His fingers plunged into her, her breath coming in short gasps that were part pleasure and part rage. He growled in response, hating the fact she was enjoying this, his voice hoarse with desire. He thrust his fingers deeper, his thumb rubbing her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her body. Her head fell back, her wings fanning the air, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Show me how miserable you are. How deprived. Show me how much you hate me." She demanded, her voice thick with lust.
Demeter snarled, in an instant, his lips found her neck, biting her till the blood came out while withdrawing his fingers, filling her in one swift motion.
Ishtar cried out, her body trembling as she adjusted to his size, then met his gaze. When he retracted, she whimpered, their eyes burning with a mixture of hatred and desire.
"You and I both know you need me to finish this," he bit out, "Your voice is pissing me off—so unless you wish me to give you something to choke on." slamming back into her ungentlemanly, that she quivered, "I don't want to hear another word."
"Fuck you—" she rasped hoarsely.
He seized her throat, "What did I just say?"
She huffs were muffled upon matching his ferocity, her legs tightening around his waist, urging him deeper. She was the Queen, godsdammit. But very well, if it was silence he wanted, it was silence he would have, along with his repercussions.She bit down on his shoulder, drawing blood, ceasing her volume. His control snapped, and with a final, powerful thrust, he swiftly pulled out, his seed spilling into her, claiming her body as his territory. As their climax faded away as quickly as it came, his body shaking, her breath ragged. He then completely let go, causing her to slide down the wall, her legs too numb to stand.
Demeter stepped back, his breathing heavy while adjusting his disheveled robes. His gaze held no remorse as he turned and walked away towards the exit.
Ishtar sat up, her expression showing a flicker of vulnerability, but remained where she was, her body still trembling from the aftermath. "Wait," she breathed out, "Just, tell me one thing." her voice cracking, "Did you ever… love me? Or feel, something, anything other than hatred?"
Demeter stopped in his tracks. The silence that followed was deafening. He turned his head slightly. watching as she forced herself up, her bare feet silent against the marble. "Not once," he said, the word dropping like a stone.
Ishtar's breath caught. Fine. Then. Her voice dropped to a trembling whisper. "If you walk out that door right now… what makes you think I won't make the rest of your life a living hell?"
Demeter blinked, stunned at first. Then, slowly, he raised a finger to circle him. "You mean this isn't it?"
"—I hate you," she choked out, "Just say it then! Say you hate me too!"
His grip tightened on the doorknob, his voice low and biting. "I'm afraid I cannot. I would have to feel something for you first, to share that sentiment. "
With the slam of the door, the chamber fell silent, the only sound the soft flutter of wings as Demeter departed, leaving Ishtar alone once more, as she had always been. Her crown lay forgotten on the floor