
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9504416.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      天空の城ラピュタ_|_Tenkuu_no_Shiro_Laputa_|_Laputa:_Castle_in_the_Sky
  Relationship:
      Pazu/Sheeta, Muska/Sheeta
  Character:
      Dola_(Laputa), Dola_Pirates, Boss, Madge
  Additional Tags:
      Self-Sacrifice, Heavy_BDSM, Bad_BDSM_Etiquette, Rape/Non-con_Elements,
      Consensual_Underage_Sex, Rape_Recovery, Rape_Aftermath, Sexual_Abuse,
      Physical_Abuse, Emotional/Psychological_Abuse, Torture, Forced_Orgasm,
      Forced_Marriage, Orgasm_Control
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-29 Updated: 2017-01-30 Chapters: 4/? Words: 17489
****** The Last Sovereign ******
by IsraVasNormandy
Summary
     Muska loses his patience in the throne room, shooting Sheeta before
     she can say the spell of destruction. In the aftermath, the colonel
     crowns himself king and brings the world to its knees beneath the
     awesome power of Laputa's magic and technology.
     Sheeta wakes almost a year later, healed by Laputa's magic, only to
     find herself a prisoner. With Dola and her boys, Pazu, and thousands
     of other men, women and children held as slaves within Laputa's
     bowels, she is forced to make a terrible choice to protect the people
     she loves.
     *Underage warning applies to Pazu and Sheeta, both of whom are under
     18.
Notes
     This is an extremely dark alternate ending to Castle in the Sky. I've
     written Muska as an awful, irredeemably evil sadist. Sheeta's just
     turned 15 when she wakes, and she agrees to marry and play the
     obedient wife in exchange for Pazu's life and relative safety.
     Her sexual relationship with her husband is horribly abusive and is
     not meant to represent what kink should be in any way, shape, or
     form. Everything he does to her constitutes rape. BDSM as a culture
     and practice is not the equivalent to rape or abuse, and only
     consenting, fully-informed adults should engage in any sort of kink.
     You have been warned. I will not entertain complaints in reference to
     the above if you fail to read the warnings.
     That being said, Sheeta will eventually have her justice and a mostly
     happy ending.
     Also, there’s not much we know about the universe in which Castle in
     the Sky takes place (at least from the movie), but in my headcanon
     it’s the same world of Howl’s moving Castle and Nausicaä: Valley of
     the Wind. For the purposes of this story, Castle in the Sky’s events
     occur a bit before Howl’s Moving Castle, and Nausicaä follows several
     thousand years later, after the global war that created the toxic
     jungles and the deserts.
     Therefore, I’ve borrowed names from cities and countries mentioned
     throughout both of the latter works to flesh out this story.
***** Long Live the King *****
                                        
[Sheeta]
===============================================================================
She stared defiantly down the barrel of Muska’s pistol. Pazu’s hand shook in
hers as his lips brushed the shorn hair under her bleeding ear.
“Sheeta, tell me the spell of destruction. We’ll say it together.”
A sob caught in her throat. He was right. She couldn’t see another way out of
this, another way to keep Laputa's horrible power from Muska’s hands. Pazu
shifted, and she felt the cool, familiar weight of her crystal fall into her
palm. Her heart beat erratically. She kissed his cheek softly.
"Val-"
“Out of time!” Muska snarled.
A sharp BANG!Shook the ancient throne room, and Sheeta vaguely registered a
shout of anguish or anger - she couldn’t tell - as pain unlike any she’d ever
felt spread from her shoulder to engulf her entire consciousness.
“SHEETA!”
Pazu’s voice sounded very far away, then. Cold seeped from the vine-strewn
floor into her bones while wet heat spread over her chest, her arm, her belly.
“NO!” he gasped. “No, Sheeta, please-”
There was something important she was going to tell him. Something vital.
Muska’s mad laugh spurred her lips to move, though she couldn’t hear the words
for herself. Her breath gurgled in her throat, and her mouth filled with salt
and rust.
“Stop… him, Pazu.”
The black spots dancing on the edges of her vision coalesced. Everything
sounded far, far, away, and then, she couldn’t hear anything at all.
===============================================================================
 
As long as Sheeta could remember, her Grandmother always told her to guard the
aetherium crystal. In the same breath, she told her tales of incomprehensible
beauty. She told of magnificent palaces glittering with gems and precious
metals. She sang of ladies dressed in robes of silk, of metal guardians who
soared through the sky, of gardens overflowing with bright flowers and
crystalline streams. Sometimes, she walked there in her dreams.
She also whispered stories of solemn horror, of fire and lightning raining from
the heavens - stories of war.
The girl wasn’t sure how long she slept, walking again among those tales in her
dreams, but when she woke, she still remembered.
Pazu. The crystal. Muska.
She sat up sharply and ignored the vertigo threatening to send her back into
the mattress.
Muska shot me, she thought incredulously, and her hand flew to her left
shoulder only to find powder-soft silk. She pressed experimentally at it, but
felt no pain.
“Did I die?” she asked the darkness around her.
A soft glow slowly suffused the ceiling, and she stared around wide-eyed at the
aged ceramic panels comprising the walls. Enormous yellow crystals overhead
cast gentle light throughout the chamber, revealing plush rugs and finely
carved furniture. A glass-doored wardrobe stood against one wall, displaying
shadowed hints of sumptuous clothes.
Pazu, she thought. I have to find Pazu.
Sheeta gingerly slid from the bed and took a few tentative steps. When her
knees didn’t immediately give out, she crossed to the door. She tried the latch
and hissed, pulling her hands away to find the pads of her fingers burnt. As
she watched, the redness faded, followed quickly by the pain. Before she could
try something else, though, it  slid open with a low hum.
“Princess!”
A woman dressed in a green frock stood on the other side of the door, eyes
wide.
“You’re awake!”
“I’m…” Sheeta frowned. “I’m not really a princess. Where are we? Who are you?”
“I’m Madge, Princess Lusheeta,” the woman said gravely, bowing. “Do you
remember what happened?”
“Muska shot me,” the girl said softly. “But I don’t know what happened after
that. How am I not dead? Where’s Pazu?!”
She clung to the front of the woman’s dress with her last inquiry, and
Madge shook her head helplessly.
“After His Majesty killed the general’s troops, he came to Silverton and
blasted the mines. He made us all come aboard and clean this place up,” she
explained in a dark whisper, tucking a stray, red curl behind her ear. “We’re
all slaves, now.”
“But how long have I been asleep?”
“Almost a year.”
Sheeta’s hands began to shake. She tried hard to focus on her breathing and
Madge's sad, but stern face.
“What happened to Pazu?” she said in a measured tone. “Tell, me, please.”
Madge looked over her shoulder at the darkened doorway and put a finger to her
lips. They listened together in tense silence, Sheeta barely breathing, until
the woman quietly closed the door. She bent and cupped the girl’s face in her
work-roughened hands.
“Listen to me, Miss,” she whispered urgently. “Everything’s gone all wrong
since Muska took over. The world’s burning, and I don’t know if there’s anyone
who can stop him except for you. You’re the only other person the scholars say
can use those crystals-”
She took a breath and exhaled slowly. Her hands slid to brace the girl’s
shoulders.
“I’ll help you to see Pazu as soon as I can, but you can’t leave your rooms
without alerting Muska you’re awake.”
“Then what do I do?” Sheeta whispered back, worrying a lock of her hair.  
Madge looked behind her again, then gently nudged Sheeta toward the bureau.
“We have to get you dressed and take you to the tyrant,” she explained as she
threw open the glass doors.
She sorted through the folded fabric rapidly before pulling out a lavish blue
gown sewn with shining rubies, tiny pearls, and finely worked gold thread,
followed by a pile of silken underclothes. Sheeta pulled off her nightdress and
shivered as she stepped into the delicate knickers. Madge helped her knot the
ties over each of her hips before holding out simple linen garment with
comprised of a long band of fabric, two narrow straps, and several small ties.
“I’ve never worn one of these,” Sheeta mumbled, holding it by one end.
“It’s like a brassiere,” Madge huffed, flipping it and holding two of the
straps for the girl.
She slipped her arms through and blushed, holding it to her breasts while
Madge crossed the long, narrow bands of fabric on either side behind, then
under her bosom. She fastened the ends together with a series of small laces,
and Sheeta’s cheeks burned redder as she caught a glimpse of herself in the
polished looking glass leaning against the wall. The garment lifted and pushed
her modest breasts together.
“I think I’ve grown while I was sleeping,” she said sadly. “What month is it?”
“It’s the season of seeding,” Madge quipped, slipping the blue shift over her
charge’s head.
Sheeta obligingly stuck her arms through the long, bell-like sleeves and stood
still while the woman wrapped her waist with gold cording. She pinned it where
the trailing ends crossed with a ruby broach to match the smaller stones
glistening at her wide neckline, then straightened to look her over with a
critical eye.
“We have to do something about your hair,” she murmured, lifting a lock curling
against her cheek. “Your fringe grew out.”
“Later, maybe?” Sheeta suggested.
“I suppose this’ll just have to do,” Madge huffed, sliding a gold diadem onto
her head much like her old red alice band.
She parted her too-long fringe and plaited it on either side to hold the diadem
in place before joining them in the back in a larger braid that fell between
her shoulderblades. Finally, she pinned a diaphanous, sheer gold veil behind it
to trail over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back.
“Madge?”
“Hm?”
The woman met the girl’s gaze and smiled tightly at her upturned expression of
worry.
“Thank you,” Sheeta said softly. “For helping me. I promise I’ll do all I can
to return you to Silverton.”
“Nevermind that,” Madge quipped. “Just stop Muska and take care to stay alive.”
She nodded, and hand in hand, the women left the chamber together.
Outside, the smooth stone glowed with subtle blue light. Their footsteps echoed
loudly around them, and Sheeta wondered how deep within the castle they were to
keep the sunlight from reaching them. The maid gently dropped the girl’s hand
after a while and stepped in front of her. Sheeta barely made out faint murmurs
somewhere ahead, and she almost ran into her guide as she stopped short before
a wall carved with geometric patterns.
Madge fumbled with something Sheeta couldn’t see in the gloom, and an odd,
metallic chime sounded. A moment passed, then an outline appeared in the wall,
revealing a hidden door that seemingly blinked out of existence. The girl
squinted against the suddenly intense light ahead. She heard birdsong and the
burble of a stream, and the voices from before rose in volume.
“Majesty,” Madge intoned, curtseying. “Princess Lusheeta has woken.”
She moved to the side, and the girl in question took a tentative step into the
bright room.
It’s like the garden, she thought as the ceiling came into focus. The outline
of vaulted arches shimmered overhead, interrupting a canopy of green vines and
lush foliage shot with bright sunshine.
“Oh?”
Sheeta flinched at the cool voice, and she resisted the urge to retreat into
the shadows. Muska stood from a table nearby, and the girl’s stomach clenched
at the sight of him. He wore pristine white robes embroidered with gold and
encrusted with dark sapphires and emeralds at the high collar and sleeves. Four
thick ropes of gold draped across his chest, and a rich purple cape fell from
his shoulders to the floor. A crown encircled his head, and on his left hand,
Sheeta spotted her crystal, set into a gaudy ring.
“After so long, my dear. I thought we’d never have our wedding.”
“Wedding?” the girl frowned. “I’m only four-”
She stopped herself and swallowed down the catch in her throat.
“I’m only fifteen.”
“And when our ancestors walked these halls, you would have been a mother,
already,” Muska dismissed. “Laputa needs a queen, Princess, and you’re the only
lady worthy of sitting at my side.”
She bit back a furious retort and clenched her fists in her skirt. Madge made a
subtle cautionary gesture at the periphery of her vision.
“What have you done with Pazu?” the girl demanded, keeping her voice as firm as
she dared. “I won’t do anything unless I see that he’s safe.”
Muska’s cold smile twitched and twisted into something cruel.
“Of course,” he sighed. “You are a loyal little thing, aren’t you? Well-”
He strode closer and bent mockingly as he offered her his arm.
“It’s an admirable trait, I suppose. If it’s directed toward the right people.”
She couldn’t help shivering at the underlying threat. He tucked her against his
side, trapping her hand in the crook of his arm.
“Maid,” he barked. “I’m going to present my princess to her court. See that
Pazu’s delivered to the throne room.”
Sheeta followed his lead through the unfamiliar passageways, staring around at
everything that had changed in the year she had missed.
Where once emptiness echoed everywhere, people bustled this way and that,
unsmiling as they scrubbed flagstones, beat rugs, brushed away at columns and
sculptures - still working to restore the palace to its previous prior
magnificence. She caught glimpses of trees through windows now and then, but
within, the lovely vines and soft mosses had been stripped away to reveal
naked, gleaming stone. Muska led her through a wide arch hung with sumptuous
scarlet fabric, and they emerged onto the landing for a high staircase.
Sheeta marvelled at the gathering below. A hundred noblemen and women milled
about the throne room. The high walls, bare of the twisting greenery she
remembered, towered overhead and shone beneath yellow gems, each like a
miniature sun set into the sparkling mosaic ceiling.  Guards bearing Laputa’s
gold-winged crest stood at intervals around the edges of the circular hall,
looking for all the world like proper soldiers rather than the mercenaries
Sheeta knew they must be. She could not name the dignitaries gathered there,
but she recognized their clothing.
The trim suits and ruffled shirts of a few gentlemen identified them as men of
Torumekia - Pazu’s home country - while the closer fitted breeches and tunic-
like shirts beneath furred caps denoted the Gondoan contingent. She wondered
whether any would recognize her and help her. She had not been rich, but her
family had been well known before her parents passed away.
Still others wore the flowing robes of Pejite or the elaborate, brightly
colored, structured satin trousers and coats of Ingary. Flowing pantaloons and
tunics clothed the gold and dark-skinned subjects of the Sultanates of
Rashpuht. People of Dorok, High Norland and Strangia intermingled with the
others, becoming confused in the sea of colors and upturned faces. The volume
of their many conversations rose as a horn blared their arrival.
“His Majesty, Romuska Palo Ur, and Her Royal Highness, Princess Lusheeta Toel
Ur Laputa!” a crier sang over the cacophony of voices.
The noise faded a little as people chanted ‘Long live the King’ and ‘Gods
preserve Her Royal Highness’ as they bowed and curtsied throughout. Muska led
Sheeta to sit upon a lush cushion at the foot of his throne atop its raised
dais before taking his own seat.
“It’s only been a year?” Sheeta whispered incredulously as the courtiers
settled onto stone pews rising smoothly from the polished floor. “It’s like
you’ve always been king.”
“Magic and technology can do much more than weak human hands,” Muska murmured
smugly. “Now be good. Speak without my say-so, and I’ll have Pazu lashed for
every word you utter out of turn.”
Sheeta licked her suddenly dry lips and folded her hands in her lap.
“Subjects, guests from the kingdoms of Earth, We present Laputa’s true princess
and future queen: Lusheeta,” he intoned, projecting his voice effortlessly to
echo through the hall. “For too long, she’s lived in a healing sleep, and now
she’s risen to take her place at Our side.”
“Gods save Princess Lusheeta,” the crowd called.
Sheeta wondered when and how Muska had implemented the protocol painfully on
display before her.
“Before We hear your treatises and news, We must finally put to rest a most
grievous matter,” he said coldly.
In the alcoves lining the circular chamber, Sheeta spotted servants - common
folk from Pazu’s valley or elsewhere - shifting uncomfortably in the shadows.
“Almost a year ago, on the day We reclaimed our lost city, a fiend followed
myself and Our princess into this sacred chamber,” he smirked as his fingers
curled around Sheeta’s in a mockery of gentleness.
He squeezed, and Sheeta almost whimpered as her bones ground together painfully
in a wordless threat.
“A lowly pirate-turned-kidnapper shot Our beautiful princess when she refused
to yield Our birthright, Our most precious Aetherium crystal, to him. Bring out
the prisoner!”
A set of doors, curved to fit seamlessly into the rounded walls, slid open with
barely a whisper to reveal two guards who escorted a heavy figure between them.
He  didn’t look up. At sixteen, his chest and shoulders had broadened a little,
but the work-sculpted muscles Sheeta remembered in his arms and chest looked
diminished despite his growth. His clothes hung from his frame in tatters. His
naked feet bled. His head hung and his neck bowed as if he expected a blow.
Defeated, Sheeta thought. He looks defeated.
“Pazu, are you ready to face justice?”
The young man straightened and focused on the former colonel.
“Kill me, if you want,” he spat bitterly. “You won’t break the others. And I’ll
never forget what you did to-”
His gaze slid to the left and Pazu’s eyes widened almost comically.
“Sheeta?” he gasped. “SHEETA! You’re alive!”
He lunged forward so quickly the guards had to yank him back by the chain
trailing from his iron collar and force him to kneel. The girl smiled despite
her fear at the joy on his face, and he rasped a slightly hysterical laugh.
“You were bleeding everywhere,” he babbled. “I was sure you’d died, you got so
cold, but- Oh God.”
He choked around a sob, and just as quickly as he’d gained it, all the energy
drained from his limbs.  
“I… I’m so sorry, Sheeta. I couldn’t protect you. I tried, but I couldn’t-”
Worried and confused murmurs filled the chamber and drowned the sound of the
crying boy. Sheeta longed to reach for him, but Muska’s bruising hold remained
tight around her fingers.
“So,” he said gravely. “We have an admission of guilt, and the Princess herself
will finally bear witness to her long-awaited justice. I think… Yes. I’ve
finally decided.”
Sheeta’s belly did a strange, anxious flip, and she felt she might be sick.
“We’ll punish him in the Old Way. Like the worst offenders of my forefathers’
time, he will be given in offering to the spirits of the sky. Pazu,” he turned
his cold stare onto the distraught boy. “You will be cut a thousand times, then
left for the birds to feast upon while you still live.”
Sheeta shot to her feet.
“NO!” she tugged her hand free of Muska’s hold and ran to Pazu’s side.
She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him despite the noises of
surprise and alarm sweeping the court.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered in his ear. “I’ll free you, Pazu, whatever it takes.
Just… Just please wait for me, all right?”
“Princess,” Muska ground out, his face twisted into a furious scowl. “What on
earth-?”
“Please, Your Majesty,” she called in a high, clear voice, silencing the
discord around her. “Please, this boy was my friend, once. Please, as a… As a
wedding gift to me, show him mercy. Or-”
She cast her gaze around at the men and women watching her, seeking a
sympathetic face among them, but the people of the mining town turned away in
fear and shame, and the courtiers regarded her with cool curiosity. Hands
shaking, Sheeta fell to her knees at Muska’s feet.
“If you have to punish someone, punish me,” she said tremulously. “It’s my
fault Pazu followed me here, and it... What happened was a horrible
misunderstanding. It’s all my fault.
The man considered her and the boy with a look somewhere between disgust and
fury written across his features.
“My bride-to-be,” he finally sighed, softening his harsh mouth. “Is she not the
image of innocence? The epitome of kindness?”
Some of the courtiers made patronising sounds of agreement.
“Very well,” the tyrant said softly. “At my love’s behest, Pazu, you will be
given…”
He frowned and seemed to count for a moment.
“Say, an even forty lashes of the whip.”
Sheeta clapped her hands over her mouth and swallowed back her horror.
He was going to kill him. He would have been hurt far worse if I hadn’t.
“When you are healed from your trial, you shall be branded and serve the
remainder of your days as a worker for the grand excavation in the Undercity,”
he finished. “Take him away.”
The girl blinked away tears as they dragged him away. Before he reached the
doors, he regained his senses enough to shout her name.
“SHEETA! Wait for me!” he cried. “I promise, we’ll get out of this, we’ll stop
him!”
Once before, faced with the threat of his torture and death, she had fled. This
time, she could only walk daintily back to her cushion at Muska’s feet and
wait, silent and trembling, as he conducted affairs of state and idly petted
her head as if she were an oversized cat.
I may as well be, she thought miserably. But not forever.
***** Gods Save the Queen *****
Chapter Notes
     A/N: ALL THE WARNINGS! This chapter contains fairly graphic rape as
     well as physical and psychological abuse. Muska’s a terrible, evil,
     irredeemable monster in this tale.
     My characters always get a happy ending, so if you can bear the
     brutality depicted below, know Sheeta will have her justice. If you
     would rather not read that, skip to chapter 3 as soon as you see
     groping.
The month that followed felt like the longest of Sheeta’s life. After her
outburst, Muska locked her in the windowless chamber where she’d woken, only
allowing her to leave to bathe or to sit at his feet if an especially important
dignitary visited. Madge brought meals and spoke with her for a while every
day. Sheeta whispered half-formed plans for escape, for murder, for stealing
back her crystal, but the sombre matron always shook her head and quietly
spelled out the flaws in each idea.
There were hundreds of soldiers, she reminded her, and Muska held not only the
purse strings, but the key to the castle’s every defense mechanism. Sheeta
thought she might borrow a servant’s clothes and sneak out that way, then make
her way to the Undercity herself.
Madge sighed and told her the guards shot anyone they didn’t recognize on
sight. Sheeta thought perhaps they could stage a coup. Surely, she mused, the
miners and other townsfolk missed their homes. But no, there had already been
two attempted insurrections, Madge relayed, and both had ended with blood and a
trip to the poorest towns below to find new slaves.
“Be patient,” the woman whispered, gently combing the girl’s dark hair and
separating out the shorter locks cascading over her brow. She snipped
carefully, redefining her fringe and trimming away the uneven strands left from
Muska’s bullets. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but the only way you’ll get
that crystal back is if you take it when his guard is down. A rebellion could
succeed, but Muska has to die, first, and we have to be able to use the robots
to protect everyone. Otherwise, those mercenaries will tear us all to shreds
and fight over the gold until all that’s left is crumbling rock and blood.”
“You said he never takes it off,” Sheeta murmured while Madge brushed away the
shorn locks and braided her hair again. “How do we get it?”
The woman sighed and pulled the slight girl into her bosom, cradling her head.
“I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “But you have to go through with the wedding.
He’s not going to let you out until then, and the only time I’ve seen him with
his guard down was in sleep. But first, we need to prepare the men to fight,
and you have to learn how all this - Laputa’s robots and magic - work so you
can use them against Muska’s thugs.”
Sheeta gulped and fisted her hands in the skirt of her nightdress. She had been
young when her mother and father passed, but they had told her about love, and
the way wives became mothers. She had seen the farm animals going at it every
spring. She’d thought it a little funny, then, but now, she shuddered.
“You mean, I have to let him..?” her voice broke.
“You can fight,” Madge murmured. “But it won’t make it any better. Do you know
how to keep from becoming pregnant?”
Sheeta paled and shook her head as she climbed into her bed. It felt too soft
under her limbs, and it smelled sterile compared to the sweet, hay-stuffed
mattress and warm, scratchy wool bedclothes she grew up with.
“There might be a spell,” she hedged. “I can ask one of the scholars Muska’s
got locked up in the library. There’s enough aetherium in this place that small
thing like that might work, what with everything glowing at night. There’s
medicine, too. I’ll have the cooks start putting some into your morning tea.”
She tried to steel herself for that inevitability: giving her body to a man she
hated so she could bide her time until they had a chance of winning.
On the night before her wedding, the girl lay in her bath, an enormous, shallow
pool of clear, warm water set beneath a quietly flowing fountain, and stared at
the starlit sky sparkling through the invisible roof.
“Madge?” she called.
Her voice echoed a little, and the maid, who had been washing on a bench
outside the pool, turned to look at her young lady with a sad smile.
“Yes, love?”
“Do you think you could get a message to Pazu?” she asked softly. “Just… I’ll
feel better if I can tell him how I feel before-”
She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat as she imagined Muska’s
hard, moist palms against her skin and cruel gaze sweeping her body.
“It’d help me get through tomorrow.”
“Of course,” Madge agreed softly. “Just be careful not to write your name or
his anywhere, and if I’m caught I can pass it off as a note to my husband.”
Sheeta floated there a while longer, thinking about what she would say, and
left the bath as soon as her friend slipped into the perfumed water. She
towelled her hair and skin methodically, pulled on her nightclothes, and sat at
the small table set on the floor of her bedroom with the tiny inkwell and
small, shabby journal Madge had stolen for her weeks before.
Pazu,she penned and sighed, blacking out the neat script.
I’m sorry, she tried again and crossed that out. I’m marrying tomorrow-
That was even worse. She rest her chin on the heel of her palm, unmindful of
the ink smudging her cheek.
I’m doing as well as one could in this situation. Your boss’s missus is looking
after me.
She paused, but didn’t mark through the lines.
I hope you’re taking care of yourself and healing. You have to stay strong, and
kind, and good. I know you can. I’m going to make everything right, again, so
just believe in me, O.K.? I need you to do that for me, because sometimes, I
forget what I’m capable of, and then I think of you, the captain, and the boys.
They’re fine, too, in case you weren’t sure. I promise, everything will be
well, in the end. I miss you. I love you.
She fell into a restless sleep after Madge tucked the slip of paper into her
brassiere and kissed her forehead. When she came again to wake her, it felt as
if no time had passed at all. She felt like her arms and legs were caught in
shifting, wet sand weighing her down and wrapping her in a dull fog. She
followed Madge to the queen’s chambers to prepare for her wedding and
obediently yielded to her attendants’ directions as they buffed, oiled, and
brushed her into a perfected, alien version of herself. After a year of no
work, the calluses that had always thickened her palms had faded with disuse
and the castle’s healing magic. Her skin, which had always been fair, looked
like alabaster in the mirror. Her blue-grey eyes, which she had always thought
to be her best feature, stared dully out at the world, shadowed by pale
lavender rings. All this, they draped in silk, satin, gold, and jewels so heavy
she struggled to move without tripping over her skirts or train.
Muska declared the day a holiday, even for the residents of the Undercity and
the slaves who resided there. Thousands gathered in the gardens to watch as
four guards bore her on an elaborate, gilt palanquin hung with gauzy drapes and
canopied by carved, floral lattice. She made out the distinctive shapes of
airships through the translucent barrier. The richer folk who’d been invited to
see the wedding and coronation cheered and threw flower petals before the
litter. Enough of them came to gawk one might be fooled into thinking it a
happy occasion, but Sheeta saw between and behind them to the weathered, tanned
faces of the workers. They neither waved nor celebrated. They watched with sad
or angry stares as she went to the alter.
Madge had told her she’d begun spreading the word across the Undercity: Sheeta
was their princess, and she’d fight for them, too.
She breathed in a steadying breath and blinked against the moisture rimming her
eyes. She held her head high throughout the ceremony, calmly recited the vows
binding her to a man she hated, and sat through the lavish feast that followed
and stretched into the night. Everything passed in a blur of color and sound,
until, she realized with a start, Madge opened the door to the Queen’s suite.
Her breath hitched, and Muska gripped her hand a little tighter against his
elbow.
Madge threw her lady a pained look,  but quickly backed out of the doorway and
bowed deeply as the couple crossed the threshold. An enormous bed occupied the
center of the chamber, surrounded by dozens of candles glowing in fixtures of
glimmering amethyst and silver.
The door slid closed behind him and locked with an ominous click. Sheeta could
not help the tremor that slid down her spine. Her mouth felt dry. Her heart
sped erratically. The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she
became extremely aware of every brush of her silk gown against her flesh. His
gaze slid over her in a malicious leer, and she swallowed a sob.
“Are you ready, my queen?” he smirked, his large hands bracing her shoulders
and trailing over her arms.
Her stomach flipped. She tasted bile on the back of her tongue. His fingers
slid to her trim waist, barely touching her. Cold sweat slid over her throat,
and his left arm encircled her smaller body to pin it against his hard frame.
Muska’s right hand worked its way over her ribcage until it lightly cupped her
breast.
“Has anyone ever touched you like this, my dear?” Muska whispered against her
earlobe, catching it between his teeth and releasing it to press kisses down
the pale column of her neck.
“N- No,” she admitted tremulously. “Please, please don’t do this.”
“Beg me,” he hissed, biting at the junction of her shoulder and throat.
His strong fingers kneaded her tender breasts, first the left, then the right,
weighing each before squeezing and tweaking her sensitive nipples through the
layered fabric of wedding gown.
“Please don’t… I’m not ready,” she whimpered.
The tears she had so valiantly fought spilled over her cheeks, and she
shivered. He began hiking up her skirt, and his burning palm found her inner
thigh only to creep higher.
“Please, no!” she squealed as his fingers pressed against the soft cleft at its
apex.
She felt them spreading her, feeling her sex as if debating whether to purchase
a piece of fruit at market. He explored between her inner lips, probing, then
danced to her clitoris.
Sheeta bit into his bicep and jerked away from him. Her knees hit the floor,
and even through the plush rug, she knew they would bruise.
“You little bitch,” he snarled.
She scrambled to her feet and chanced a look at him. Blood stained his sleeve.
A dark flush suffused his face. Sheeta ran to the window and tore at the latch
desperately, but it would not yield. He stalked closer, shedding his sash and
jewels. She crossed to the only other door in the room and cried in dismay at
the sight of a bathroom with a high glass ceiling and no other exits.
“Oh Lusheeta,” he sighed. “I thought you were cleverer than this. Your adoring
husband’s heart breaks for your cruelty.”
She screamed as he jerked her backward by her hair. She stumbled and twisted
only to land in a heap beside the bed. He backhanded her hard before she could
think to rise, and dizziness scrambled her senses as the taste of rust and salt
rushed over her tongue. Her breath came in shallow, panicked gasps. She
struggled to reorient herself and get her feet beneath her, but his hand
clamped around her arm like a vice and dragged her onto the satin sheets.
“No!” she shrieked and tried to duck under his arm, but he slapped her again,
harder, and his knees pinned her skirt, trapping her there. “Get off me!”
“Shut up,” Muska ordered tersely, wrapping his hands around her throat again.
She scratched at him and thrashed, trying to get away. Her lungs burned.
“Pa- Pazu-”
Her lips felt cold.
“You want your little protector?” he sneered as her lashes fluttered. “Guard!
Bring the boy!”
He let go, and Sheeta gasped and coughed, curling in on herself. A door slid
open across the room, and she looked up at the sound of clanging metal.
“Pazu?” she whispered.
She could not believe it. Just weeks ago, he’d looked like one enormous bruise,
and that had been before his whipping. Somehow, she had not expected him to
look so well, but it seemed Muska had kept his word. He still seemed thinner
than he should be for his height, but excepting a few bruises, his skin
appeared unblemished and clean. A small part of her felt relieved, but the
possible logic behind Muska’s summons quickly turned the brief emotion to
dread.
“Sheeta?” his confusion contorted as his eyes traced the red marks splashed
across her cheeks.
He took a step forward, and his guard hit him hard in the back of his knees. He
fell hard to the floor, but kept his eyes on her. Muska sauntered forward and
smirked.
“You bastard!” he snarled. “You keep your hands off her or I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” Muska laughed and kicked him hard.
Pazu doubled over while the guard chuckled meanly over his head. The soldier
landed a blow to his ribs, and the boy gave an agonized cry.
“STOP IT!” Sheeta shrieked, trying to free herself from the tangled bedding.
“You want me to spare him, my queen?” the tyrant smirked, and she froze.
“Don’t listen to him!”
Her gaze flicked from Pazu’s wincing, but determined face to her husband’s cool
stare.
“If...” she took a deep, but shaky breath. “If I do this, you can’t hurt him
anymore. Make him work, if you won’t let him go, but you can’t beat him.”
“Hn,” Muska chuckled and unclasped his cape. It fell around his feet in a
billowing mass of purple, leaving him in only his boots and loose tunic.
“If you do this, I promise not to kill him,” he offered condescendingly,
approaching the bed with long, languid strides. “But, I’ll only cede to your
specific request as long as you behave.”
“Don’t, Sheeta! I’m not worth it,” Pazu shouted, his eyes wide with fear.
“Please, not for me.”
“He’s right,” the king hummed. “He’s not worth it. Still, in the name of
fairness, I’ll not lay another hand on you if you reach the same conclusion.
I’m sure the guards would enjoy him.”
“That’s fine!” Pazu said with a forced smile. “It’s all right-”
“SHUT UP, PAZU!”Sheeta yelled, her hands clenched into fists.
The boy stared, shocked at the exclamation. Muska laughed again.
“Get him a seat, Captain, and you may as well get comfortable, too.”
The light-haired brute cheerfully obliged. He dragged his prisoner to a table
nearby and, despite Pazu’s violent resistance, secured him to the arms and legs
of a heavy, ornately carved chair before taking another for himself.
“Now, let’s play a game,” Muska said softly, turning back to his young bride.
“You do everything I tell you to, when I tell you to do it, my love, and I, or
my guards won’t harm another hair on Pazu’s head for the sake of hurting or
killing him until you decide otherwise through disobedience.”
“Yes, I agree,” Sheeta nodded after a moment’s consideration.
“Excellent,” he smiled in a mockery of kindness as he approached the bed, his
eyes glinting with cruel pleasure. “And you-”
He pointed at Pazu, who had not stopped fighting the rope binding his shackles
behind his head and his feet to the chair’s legs.
“Every time you close your eyes or look away, I’ll punish her in your place.
Understand me?”
“Don’t touch her!” Pazu shouted, his arms straining hard.
Sheeta looked away from him as Muska settled into the plush cushions piled
against the headboard. He beckoned her forward with a curled finger, and she
shuffled to kneel between his legs. He reached for her head, and she flinched
as he slid the veil and crown from her head and began loosening the elaborate
plaits underneath. He moved languidly, delighting in the feel of the soft
strands slipping between his fingers.
Pazu switched tactics, and Sheeta resisted the urge to look his way when she
heard the noise of his thrashing go quiet.
“Please, Sheeta,” he begged. “Please, please don’t let him. It’s O.K. I
promise, I’ll be fine. Fight him!”
Her eyes stung and her sinuses burned. She blinked hard against the moisture
threatening her vision. Muska ignored his audience completely.
“Stand up and take your clothes off,” he commanded lowly.
The girl bit the inside of her lower lip and stood shakily. Her fingers
trembled as they unclasped the heavy jewels hanging around her neck. She pushed
the stiff, straight-armed robe off her shoulders, revealing the sheer white
layers of her slimly fitted gown and gem-encrusted girdle.
Muska smirked. He slipped his hand under the hem of his tunic and slowly,
deliberately stroked his cock when her eyes flicked unconsciously to his lap.
Bile burned her esophagus. She resisted the urge to flinch.
“No!” Pazu miserably cried somewhere behind her.
She loosened the fastenings at the back of the girdle, letting it fall with a
heavy, muted thump. Her hands shook badly as she pulled the ties holding the
sides of her gown tight against her ribcage. The last lace came free, and it
slipped down around her arms and to her feet. She idly mused how light she felt
without it and its heavy train as she stepped free of the pooled fabric. Her
hands crossed protectively over her chest and sex. The guard watching from the
back of the room made an appreciative grunt at the sight of her rear.
“Come here.”
Sheeta moved closer, and Muska pulled her down to sit across his lap.
“You’re shivering,” he whispered, cradling her back with one hand while the
other caressed the length of her leg.
“This is still rape,” she said evenly. “I don’t want this.”
“I think you might be suffering the delusion I care,” Muska quipped. “But
whatever your heart desires, you’ll still beg for it, and you will enjoy my
attentions despite it.”
He pressed his fingers between her legs for emphasis. The pad of his middle
finger circled her clit, and she sucked in her lower lip against a gasp.
“I hate you,” she hissed, closing her eyes.
“Oh?” he whispered, burying his nose in her hair and licked the edge of her
ear. “I don’t think you know the meaning of that word - Not yet.”
He groped one of her moderate breasts, gently at first, but with mounting
pressure as he watched her face. Sheeta stiffened, her teeth digging into the
inside of her swollen lower lip as the discomfort quickly grew to pain. A deep
ache settled into the tender flesh, sharpening as he pinched the nipple and
twisted cruelly.
She finally squeaked, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, and he
laughed, pulling hard. She arched toward him instinctively, trying in vain to
lessen the agonizing tension.
“NO!” Pazu screamed. “GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF HER, YOU MONSTER!”
“Be quiet, pazu,” Sheeta whispered, hiding her face in Muska’s shoulder.
She tried to breathe deeply, tried to separate herself from the clamminess of
his hand as he began palming the other breast. He only kneaded it a little
before brutally pinching her sensitive nipple.
“Does that hurt?” he murmured silkily even as he licked at the salt clinging to
her cheek. “Tell me!”
“Yes!” she cried as his nails bit into the soft flesh. “It hurts!”
“Sheeta,” Pazu begged, his voice breaking. “Please stop him. Please, I can’t
bear it-”
“Oh no,” Muska mocked. “Your little pirate can’t bear the sight of his sweet
damsel in distress.”
He laughed, and the soldier joined in.
“Tell him you like it,” the sneering man whispered into Sheeta’s throat,
alternatively biting and kissing the sweat-glossed skin. “Look at him tell him
you like it when I hurt you. Now, or I’ll have the guard beat him.”
She slowly raised her head and turned to meet Pazu’s tortured gaze. Wet tracks
glistened on his cheeks. Her heart clenched in her chest, and she felt the dam
break. She felt herself gasping, sobbing around the words.
“I- I-” she tried. “I li- like it when he hurts me, Pazu.”
“Good girl,” Muska cooed into her hair, rolling the tortured nub between his
thumbnail and forefinger.
She whimpered and grimaced against the burning, pulsing ache radiating from
that small bit of flesh.
“Now beg me, little Sheeta. Beg your king to hurt your pretty titties. Offer
them to me.”
Her cheeks flushed at the guard’s hearty guffaws, but she cupped and pressed
her breasts together, lifting them for his inspection.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please, my king, please hurt my pretty titties.”
He laughed and crushed both nipples, pulling hard until her soft, round breasts
stretched away from her ribs in pale cones. He mashed them will all his might,
ignoring her high, panicked cries and Pazu’s furious, horrified shouts until
she almost felt numb save for the radiating pulses of agonizing heat. They
bounced back into their usual, pert roundness, and a delayed, deep soreness
spread from each peak.
“What a dutiful wife,” Muska grinned at the slight woman slumped against his
chest, silently weeping. “Now, I want you to give yourself to me.”
“NO!” Pazu roared. “LEAVE HER ALONE! TAKE ME YOU BASTARD, JUST STOP!”
His brown eyes blazed with fury and loathing. Sheeta gratefully took Muska’s
order as reason to flee from his gaze and shifted to straddle the man’s lap.
Muska moved his hands from his cock and balls to the silky curve of her hips,
yanking her forward until her soft, tender nether lips ground against its
turgid length.
“You’re too dry,” he said with a mocking pout. “We’ll just have to fix that,
won’t we?”
He lifted her hips and she stood shakily as he dove between her legs. His
tongue delved into her, and a soft sob escaped her lips. She covered her face
with her hands, horrified and ashamed, biting back sounds of pleasure while he
tongued her cleft and sucked and licked the little bundle of nerves she had
never discovered for herself.
“You wish you were him, eh, kid?” the guard grunted lewdly.
She couldn’t understand Pazu’s answer.
“I sure do. Maybe His Majesty’ll tire of her and I’ll get to try her arse,
yeah?”
“Captain Koto!” Muska barked.
Sheeta had to grip the headboard to hold herself up as her molester shifted to
look around her hip.
“Speak so lewdly of your queen again and I’ll feed your balls to the dogs,” he
spat. “She’s mine, alone, and worth far more than you. You’ll do well to
remember that.”
The girl shuddered and wondered idly if she should feel grateful others would
not touch her thus, or disgusted at his claim.
“A- Apologies, Majesty,” Koto stuttered, bowing deeply. “I beg Yours and Her
Majesty’s forgiveness.”
“Granted,” Muska answered for her. “Remember to tell me if he looks away.”
“Yes, Majesty.”
The king gave no answer and returned to slurping at his young wife’s sex while
she shuddered above him.
“You taste sweet,” he said after a while, licking his lips as he nodded for her
to straddle his lap again. “Kiss me, taste for yourself.”
She settled again, her slick heat against the base of his cock as his thin
mouth devoured her lips. Her stomach churned. His breath smelled of wine, and
his face shone as if rubbed with grease. He laughed when she choked at the
invasion of his tongue.
“Now,” Muska directed, kneading her arse. “Give yourself to me. Take it inside
you, and make yourself a woman.”
Again, she followed his command and rose to align her opening with the head of
his thick rod. She fumbled clumsily, focusing not on the feel of it or his
sweaty hands, but the sound of Pazu’s harsh breaths.
For Pazu, she repeated to herself. This is so he won’t hurt Pazu anymore.
She lowered her weight onto it and couldn’t help a cry as it stretched her
painfully. It felt like she was tearing in two.
“Too slow,” Muska smirked.
He tugged her down hard, and the small woman screamed shrilly as something
within her ripped and her muscles spasmed around the horrible intrusion.
“SHEETA!” Pazu bellowed. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU SUNOVABITCH! I’LL KILL
YOU!”
The girl whimpered, and still more tears spilled over her cheeks, mingling with
snot dribbling over her upper lip. Muska rolled his hips and she forced herself
to lift on trembling thighs before he pulled her down harder.
“Beg me to fuck you, my queen,” Muska rasped cruelly, biting and licking at her
slim, purpling throat as he bounced her. “Beg me to fuck your bleeding cunt.”
“Ah!” she cried, biting her lip. “Pl- Please fuck ma- m- my bleeding cu- cunt!”
He rocked forward and pinned her wrists over her head with one hand as he
yanked her to meet him with the other, bruising her thigh. She squealed with
his next thrust.
Too much, she thought detachedly while he pistoned into her.
Sheeta knew she must be screaming for all she was worth - she felt him stabbing
against what she thought must be the opening to her womb - but she had lost
control of her lips. She didn’t want to feel. She didn’t want to hear. She saw,
though. Muska moved his hands to her throat, squeezing just enough to hurt
without restricting her airway and forcing her to stare at Pazu. He stared back
at her, crying helplessly, lips forming words as if in slow motion between
defiant or pleading shouts. Her mind reeling as it was, it took a while for her
to understand the words he repeated most often in his unbroken diatribe.
I love you.
She hoped it would be enough.
***** The Morning After *****
Sheeta awoke with an unusual awareness of her body. Everything hurt in some way
or another. Her lower lip stung when she wet it where it had split. Dark
handprints marred her arms and thighs, and her breasts twinged horribly with
the slightest pressure. She hurt on the inside - a feeling she was not
accustomed to.
At least she woke alone.
She wished Pazu were there, or Madge. All she wanted to do was sleep some more
and maybe cry.
Sheeta forced herself to swing her legs over the bed’s edge, wincing all the
while, and gingerly make her way to the gleaming bathroom she’d spied the night
before. Each step stretched and pulled at abused muscles. The flaking, sticky
residue coating her inner thighs cracked and chafed. She took slow, measured
breaths.
“For Pazu,” she reminded herself softly. “He can’t break me, and he can’t hurt
Pazu. I can do this.”
Some angel, probably Madge , she thought, had laid out fluffy white towels and
a fresh sponge near the washing area, along with a softer flannel and a basket
of stoppered soaps and oils. A silver tray filled with tea, fruit and biscuits
waited at the edge of the pool. She shuffled down a subtly sloped section of
tile to stand beneath the warm stream spewing from an dragon fixture set in one
wall. The water flowed from its golden mouth. Smooth sapphire eyes watched the
cascade spill over her aching shoulders and tangled hair. Steam obscured her
vision. Without meaning to, Sheeta sank to the floor, her knees pulled to her
chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. She missed her mother and
grandmother.
She missed Pazu, Dola, and the boys.
The girl squeezed her eyes shut and blocked out everything until she could
perceive only the rush of the water around her and the movement of her breaths.
She held back the tears, but without outward stimuli, her mind turned to
memories.
His hands, his wine-soured breath, the slick touch of sweaty flesh, Pazu-
Her traitorous brain honed in on its record of Pazu’s face in all its tortured
beauty. A traitorous thought nibbled at her, whispering suggestions about what
the boy must think of her now.
Sheeta reached blindly for the sponge, stepping from beneath the flood to work
the herbaceous soap into a thick lather. She scrubbed her skin almost roughly,
one arm, then the other, her torso and legs, then back again to repeat the
mechanical movements.
“Ouch!” she winced and looked down at her thigh in surprise.
A rivulet of pink flowed over her skin from a crescent-shaped wound, and she
realized with a start she must have torn off a scab. The girl forced her half-
numbed fingers to release and stepped beneath the torrent to sluice off the
remaining foam. Only when it ran clear did she slide carefully into the pool.
Sheeta sipped her bitter new breakfast tea as she stared at the chips of
aetherium dotting the mosaic underfoot. The fingers of her right hand trailed
over the subtly raised texture, and they gleamed a little brighter.
“Sheeta?”
The girl startled at the sound and sat up too sharply, wincing at the soreness
pervading her lower half. The steam cleared a little, and she made out
Madge's wild, red curls.
“Oh,” the woman gasped as she took stock of Laputa’s new queen. “Oh, Gods, what
has he done to you?”
She knelt at the pool’s edge, unminding of the water soaking her skirt.
Madge gently cupped Sheeta’s chin before wrapping her in a gentle embrace. She
nuzzled into her warmth, and there, pressed against her shoulder, breathing in
the smells of sweet milk, steeping tea, and lavender dusting powder, she
finally let go.
“I have you,” Madge soothed, rocking the traumatized young woman and biting
back her own sorrow. “You’re safe, now. I have you. We’ll make it right.”
Sheeta wept until her eyes stung and her chest ached from her rapid, shallow
gasps. She felt better when her tears eventually ran out - drained, but calmer.
“There, now,” the maid smiled weakly and pressed the still-hot tea into
Sheeta’s hands. “Drink up. I know it doesn’t taste very good, but it’ll help
with the pain as well as- Well, you know.”
“It tastes a little like the willow bark tea my grandmother drank for her
rheumatism,” Sheeta murmured, gulping the liquid. “But I don’t recognize the
other flavors.”
“Queen Anne’s lace, blue cohosh, carrot seeds and neem,” Madge said softly.
The girl drained the cup and sank back into the water until her palms lay flat
on the floor of the pool.
“There are aetherium chips worked into the tiles,” she observed aloud. “You
said before, a spell might work?”
Madge eyed the blue flecks.
“Might,” she shrugged. “I’m told you know the spells.”
“Apéfthae,” Sheeta whispered.
It wasn’t like her crystal, which would glow brightly as it worked, but slowly,
she felt the aches fade until they dulled to almost to nothing. She still hurt
a little inside, but the bruises yellowed and the shallow cuts marking her rear
and legs knitted.
“Well, that’s pretty amazing,” Madge grinned. “Feeling a bit better?”
“Yes, thanks,” the girl smiled shyly. “I really appreciate everything you’ve
done for me. It helps a lot.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.”
The maid led Sheeta to sit on a bench and started towelling off her hair with
efficient, but gentle movements.
“I got permission to take you to the college,” she offered suddenly, breaking
the melancholy silence. “Under guard, of course, but they’re restoring the
castle’s library.”
Sheeta brightened considerably at that.
“I can start working on those robots,” she whispered hopefully.
The maid nodded, and the younger woman rushed through the remainder of her
ablutions. She donned fresh undergarments - gladder for them after their
absence the night before - and a pale yellow shift. After a glance in the
mirror, she pinned her damp locks around her crown and fastened a veil over the
messy coif.
Elated at the prospect of being anywhere other than a bedchamber, the girl
hurried to push open the heavy double doors and started down the hall.
“Lady!” Madge called after her, running to catch up with their new queen and
her harried-looking guards. “Lady, slow down.”
She glared at the armor-clad men, and they shrugged a little sheepishly as they
sped to match her purposeful stride. Without Muska’s shadow by her side, Sheeta
found herself enjoying the beautiful place, again. She missed the plants,
though. The guards steered her around a corner and up a spiralling staircase,
and they emerged in the most magnificent library Sheeta ever imagined.
Like most of the public or bathing spaces, gracefully curved arms extended to a
rounded roof practically invisible at first glance. Here, like in the grand
garden, heavy boughs blanketed by lush vine and leaf interrupted the sunlight
illuminating the towering bookcases, which followed the curve of the walls at
the edges and held pillar-like, decorative cases evenly spaced throughout. At
the very center, gray-haired men stooped over a polished tabletop amidst stacks
of haphazard tomes.
“No, no!” one argued. “That’s clearly a ‘u,’ not an ‘o.’ Get yourself a new
pair of spectacles!”
“Now see here,” his thinner colleague frowned. “I’ve never needed glasses, and
you, sir, are misinterpreting the text. The ink clearly shows signs of
spreading!”
Sheeta giggled and stepped closer as the argument escalated. A few other men
emerged from behind the pillars and bowed when they spotted her, but the pair
seemed oblivious to their audience.
“YOU WOULDN’T KNOW AN ‘O’ FROM BIRD DROPPINGS IF ONE SLAPPED YOU IN THE FACE!”
the portly, maroon-suited scholar bellowed, his bushy white moustache
bristling.
The other poked him in the chest with a knobby finger.
“YOU WOULDN’T KNOW A ‘U’ FROM A PIGEON IF YOU SAW ONE HUMPING YOUR MOTHER!”
The argument stopped making any sense at all to Sheeta shortly thereafter, but
she waited, amused, until one of the uninvolved watchers lost all patience. He
stomped up to the table, cleared his throat loudly, and the two debaters turned
to shout at him.
“What?!” they snapped in stereo.
The brave, robed interruptor nodded significantly toward the young woman, and
the scholars rushed to bow and make apologies. She burst into uncontrollable
laughter.
“Good morning,” she greeted after catching her breath. “I’ve been told I can
study here with you.”
“Oh, well, welcome, Majesty,” the portly one flushed, worrying a squat fez
between his hands. “I’m Higgins, and this is Todd.”
He nodded grudgingly to his opponent, then gestured to the others in turn.
“Merrythought-”
A tall, boyish-faced gentleman gestured as if to doff an invisible hat and
straightened his red bowtie.
“Aptha-”
To her left, a tan old man reminiscent of a wizard swept into a flourishing
bow.
“Rohm?” Higgins frowned and pointed him out at the very back of the room.
The minute man bent at the waist, and his turban wobbled dangerously.
“And Markl,” he finished with on a wizened old man with warm, dark skin and a
wiry, curly beard.
“So, is there anything in particular we can assist you with?” Todd queried,
pulling a chair out at the head of the table.
Sheeta sat gracefully and smiled around at the eager old men hopefully.
“Well,”she said softly. “I’d like to know more about the castle, for one. I’ve
been asleep a long time, and my grandmother’s stories don’t make up for real
histories.”
The scholars gathered around the table, taking their own chairs, and
commiserated in low tones while the young queen examined the subject of the
previous argument. She spotted the contested character and giggled.
“Lady?” Aptha frowned at the noise.
“Oh, it’s just-” she paused as Todd and Higgins gesticulated expectantly.
“Well, it’s not a ‘u’ or an ‘o,’ she explained. It’s the equivalent to an
accented ‘a.’”
“And how do you know that?” Higgins asked grumpily.
Sheeta raised a delicately sculpted eyebrow.
“Why wouldn’t I? My grandmother taught me to read and write Laputian long
before she taught me the Ingarian alphabet,” she said a little defiantly. “I
bet I could teach youa thing or two.”
Markl leaned forward, mischief twitching the corners of his smile.
“I accept your challenge, Majesty!”
===============================================================================
 
 
By unspoken agreement, the workers of the Undercity did not ask after Miss
Sheeta or seek Pazu’s feelings concerning the royal wedding. The first and only
time someone had, the reaction had been swift, violent, and unforgettable.
“Hey kid,” Henri, Dola’s third son, had called upon Pazu’s return to the
workers’ barracks. “What did they want you for? We thought they’d ruin your
pretty face, again.”
His brothers, Lui and Charles, and the rest of Dola’s crew looked up. All the
men shared a bunk together, and after over a year together, they knew enough to
take an interest in the boy’s answer.
“They just wanted me to see something,” he said dully, sitting heavily on his
bunk and putting his head in his hands. “I’m fine.”
“So,” Charles frowned when Pazu didn’t elaborate. “What’s wrong?”
The younger man shook his head. A few of the others made sounds of worry at his
despondency.
“Did you get to see that girl of yours?” Boss guessed.  “She all right?”
Still nothing.
“Hey!” Lui grunted. “If something’s wrong with Miss Sheeta we deserve to know.
You’re not the only one who cares, you punk!”
“Shut up,” Pazu ground out. “Just shut up.”
Boss frowned.
“It’s a fair question, son,” he said gravely. “Though that thug’s still an
idiot. We just want to help.”
Pazu stared around at them all bitterly, and Lui snorted, flexing his muscles.
“Don’t bother,” he sneered, elbowing one of his brothers. “He’s not man enough
to admit how bad he messed up. Probably don’t even care anymore. Else, he
wouldna let that sick bastard marry her in the first place. Right?”
“Uh, bro,” Henri laughed nervously. “I don’t think this is the time.”
“What?” the blond-bearded giant grinned. “What’s he gonna do? I bet he’s so
down ‘cuz she told him she don’t luuurve him anymore. Maybe she’ll go out with
me, now.”
The boy launched himself from his bunk and drove his shoulder into Lui’s solar
plexus with everything he had. All the air left the big man’s lungs in one
great OOF! And they went down together. Pazu straddled Lui and pummelled his
face furiously.
“YOU DON’T HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!” he bellowed, fighting
against the arms trying to restrain him from behind. “I’M GOING TO KILL THAT
BASTARD! I’LL BURN HIM ALIVE! DON’T YOU TALK ABOUT-”
His tirade cut off abruptly as Boss got an arm around his neck. With effort, he
and the others managed to drag him off of Lui, who lay moaning as blood soaked
his face and the floor, face swelling rapidly.
“Hey, now!” the mustachioed foreman hollered. “I don’t know what the hell’s got
into you, son, but Lui didn’t deserve that.”
Charles and Henri bent over the guy, staring accusingly at his attacker. Pazu
stopped trying to bite Boss’s arm and went limp. The others helped him to sit
on the bed again, and the boy fell apart.
“He- They-” he sobbed bitterly. “She was bleeding so much, and he-”
He choked and fisted his hands over his knees.
“They-”
“Come on, son, what happened?” Boss asked gently, clasping his shoulder.
“He raped her,” he choked around the muttered word, and then he was yelling
again. “SHE WAS CRYING AND BLEEDING AND HE JUST KEPT-”
He stood abruptly and the bunkbed screeched as it jumped a few inches across
the floor, stunning the others into momentary silence.
“Wh- Why didn’t you stop him?!” Charles demanded, grabbing the front of Pazu’s
shirt. “Why didn’t you-”
“Don’t you think I would have if I had gotten loose?!” he snarled, pushing the
larger pirate fearlessly. “I’d sooner die than let someone hurt her.”
“THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULDA DIED!” Charles hurled.
“SHE WOULDN’T LET ME!”
He collapsed to his knees, clutching his head.
“I fought so hard, but I couldn’t-” he babbled. “I kept trying to convince her,
to convince him, but she wouldn’t-”
Pazu folded in on himself, a horrible, agonized sound tore from his throat. He
felt himself being lifted, but didn’t fight. The men settled in a loose circle
around the smoky fire barrel in the middle of the room, Boss with an arm around
the boy’s shoulders.
“That sick bastard,” the big man grunted. “We’ll get him, Pazu. Just wait.
He’ll get his.”
***** Beneath the Veil *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter contains more Muska/Sheeta non-con and rape. Proceed at
     your own risk. If you'd rather not read that bit, skip from where he
     comes to her rooms by searching the word "rays" in page. That'll
     bring you to the morning after, and while there's a short bit of non-
     con touching, it ends very quickly.
     If you can get through the rough bits, there's some adorable fluff
     toward the end, and next chapter, we'll have a proper lemon!
Though Sheeta herself commanded no power of her own, she had all the time in
the world to learn. In the mornings, she and Madge joined the old scholars in
the library or the college, and with their support, she slowly unravelled
Laputa’s history: her family’s history. It both enthralled and saddened the
young woman to read their last chronicles, whose authors had penned them at the
conclusion of a catastrophic war among the elite aboard the floating cities and
the millions of poor and slave laborers below. These folk had banded together
against their oppressors, and after almost two centuries of fighting, the
cities, too, became war zones as the decades of rigorous martial ruling had
created disparity and unhappiness. Women, children and the wisest of the men
joined in secrecy to solve the endless war, and slowly their message of hope
for peace spread, and with it, a new of understanding:
There can be no happiness without equality, and there can be no peace when in
every quarter, there is naught but fear to feel.
Shortly after this revelation was entered into the annals of history among
philosophers’ words and wisdoms, two young women, both who had lost loved ones
to the fighting, came up with a terrible, wonderful plan. La’asha Ur Laputa
ascended the throne after the last of her brothers died aboard his warship. Her
dearest friend and protector, who would later become the queen’s consort,
helped her mistress plot what would become the last acts of mass violence,
ending the fighting. After quietly spreading word to anyone who would listen,
anyone who wished to flee, the young ruler aimed her man cannon at not the
earth, below, but the remaining cities. They fell burning into the seas, and
suddenly, the cities of earth found themselves bursting with those who had fled
or escaped and learned, too late, they were not so different from themselves.
Queen La’asha had intended to destroy her city, too, but in the end, one of her
advisors betrayed her. He assassinated the queen in an attempt to take over the
last of the great islands, only for the queen’s consort, her lover and friend,
to strike him down. The loyal lady had not the Touch of Light, as the mages
called the inherent ability to manipulate Aetherial energy, so she could not
command the castle’s power to honor her queen’s last wishes for her country.
With no other recourse, and no desire to live among the people below without
gentle La’asha, she used what control stones she could to seal the city forever
and hide it among the clouds.
La’asha, however, was not the last member of Laputa’s royal family. Her younger
sister and brother both survived and built lives in the verdant hills of the
Gondoan continent, passing the histories onto their descendants, and so on.
Sheeta and her sweet scholars could not locate any texts after the Royal
Consort’s journals, but the rest of the library’s collection more than made up
for that. Though the young queen thought the scholars certainly knew enough
Laputian to make out the titles of her favorite books, none so much as
questioned her, and no one reported her activity to Muska.
Slowly, she began to understand how Laputa’s incredible mechanical and magical
marvels worked together to form a moving, living thing of its own. She learned
to interpret the spiralling square runes scrawled on nearly every surface, and
admired the great capacity the island’s other secrets had for good. One such
place lay under her feet, in the Undercity where Pazu and the other slaves
toiled away in their efforts to finish draining the place of floodwater,
restore the structure’s stability, and uncover the secrets to its construction.
Unbeknownst to them and only recently discovered through the queen’s studies, a
marvel of ancient ingenuity waited: the secret to the castle’s pure, running
water, clean, oxygen-rich air, and temperate days. Lusheeta sighed anytime she
thought of the shadowed glimpses she’d spied through the sparkling pools and
streams cut into the high gardens. She missed that sense of innocent wonder,
and she missed the feeling of discovery with Pazu at her side. Still, she loved
these retreats into the smell of aged parchment and ink, so when they
inevitably ended, she always felt sad.
In the afternoons, Sheeta followed Madge back to her chambers, where her
husband would call on her to share in an intimate luncheon. The young woman
could not help tensing every time he entered the sitting room, but she
stoically sat through every meal.
“I would visit your chambers tonight, my queen.”
Sheeta’s fork scraped unpleasantly against the pale blue crystal plate, and she
blinked in surprise as her mind reviewed the stiltedly murmured conversation
they’d been having. The girl raised her head to examine Muska’s face, but it
only displayed a cold smirk.
“I would ask your forgiveness,’ she said stiffly. “I’ve been feeling unwell,
and I wouldn’t want you to-”
He reached across the table to capture her dainty hand.
“I’ll join you shortly after sunset.”
Her appetite disappeared completely, and she bit back her reflexive protest at
the steely edge to his voice and unsaid threat:  Refuse me, and Pazu will pay
for your disobedience.
She nodded numbly.
Later, sitting at the elaborate vanity in her dressing room, she chided herself
for the hope she had built up over the past weeks. She had too easily shunted
aside thoughts about  why  she now jumped at unexpected noises and felt her
heart speed anytime a man accidentally brushed against her. Madge, as always,
stood with her to help prepare her for the trial to come. Her nimble fingers
made quick work of the elaborate plaits adorning her head, loosening them until
they fell in long waves down her back, which now reached her waist after nearly
a month bathing in Laputa’s healing waters, aetherium chips sparkling all
around her.
“Do you think we could visit Pazu, or the captain, Madge?” she asked softly as
the maid helped her into a diaphanous nightdress that had been waiting for them
upon returning to her chambers.
The garment draped gracefully from its low-cut neckline, clinging where two
triangles of lace-edged silk framed her modest breasts, the edges held in place
by two satin ribbons. It tucked in just below her bust to flow to the floor,
skimming her hips gracefully and partially obscuring her legs beneath the
pooling layers. She looked in the mirror and felt something between shame and
bitterness settle in her chest.
The sheer fabric left nothing to the imagine, but the contrast of the pure
white silk over her darker skin created an illusion of modesty. In the cold of
evening - it always felt cold once the sun set on the impossible island - her
dusky rose nipples tightened to press against the cloth. She was an erotic
vision, even to her own mind, and she hated it.
Sheeta’s memory easily conjured up an image of Pazu, and suddenly she longed to
have him there with her, his adoring, passionate gaze sweeping from her
upturned face to her chest, then over the slender curves of her long graceful
legs. Her traitorous mind took her desire further though, crystallizing and
morphing it until she remembered the feeling of Muska’s hot mouth ravaging her
sex. The brief longing for that fleeting pleasure disappeared rapidly, though,
as other details pushed to the forefront: the chafe of his stubble against her
tender thighs, the bruising grip of his clammy hands on her hips, the
humiliation at knowing Pazu watched her molestation, the feeling of utter
helplessness between Muska’s violence and threats against the boy’s life.
The girl jumped when she felt Madge’s hands on her shoulders.
“Lady?” she whispered, smoothing her calloused palms over her goose-flesh.
“It’s the only time he’s not surrounded by a dozen guards,” she muttered by way
of dismissing the woman’s concern. “If I don’t want him to suspect when the
time comes, I don’t have much choice.”
She tried to step away from the mother of four, Madge’s arms wrapped gently
around her.
“It won’t be too long,” she whispered. “We’ve been gathering what weapons we
can, and we’re learning where all the dormant robots are.”
Sheeta pulled herself free and shook her head.
“It’s not your fault,” the girl murmured back. “It can’t be helped. You should
go before he comes.”
Madge wrung her hands, her thin mouth pursing, before she gave a small nod and
fled to her small, adjoining maid’s quarters. Meanwhile, the young queen made
her way back into her bedroom to wait.
Just before her fear could turn to boredom, the door creaked open, and Sheeta
rapidly stood to greet Laputa’s tyrannical king.
“Good evening, husband,” she uttered softly.
He offered her no greeting of his own as he strode across the rug-strewn floor
to cup her cheek. His hand went around her throat, and his thumb braced her jaw
more forcefully when she didn’t look up. Muska examined her blank gaze with a
small smirk before covering her lips with his and shoving his tongue into her
mouth. She felt herself tremble, and his other hand caught her elbow to hold
her still while he took what he pleased.
The girl gasped for air when he finally pulled away to grip her long hair,
instead.
“You’re so lovely,” he drawled covetously. “Despite your flaws, my dear, I find
myself more and more enamored of your face and figure.”
He edged her toward the bed, and she allowed her body to fall onto the
frankincense-scented sheets when she felt the mattress’ edge press against her
calves. Muska leered at her. She focused her attention on the wall.
“I like you better like this,” he breathed against her throat as he pulled her
to lie more centered on the luxurious bed. “Submissive… Pliable.”
He squeezed one of her tender breasts through the thin silk and smirked when
her nipple hardened further.
“I hate you,” Sheeta answered softly, trying to shut out the almost painful
pressure suffusing her soft flesh.
“And still, here you lie,” he mocked, pinching and twisting the pebbled peak
cruelly, pulling a gasp from her throat. “This could be enjoyable for you, you
know, if only you pleased me enough to win your pleasure. I wouldn’t begrudge
you that.”
With every word, he teased or tormented her teats, wringing dramatic responses
from her inexperienced body until shame brought tears to her eyes and made her
sex ache with heat and moisture. She refused to utter another complaint,
though, and this only served to annoy her harsh lord.
“If you’re so adamant against feeling passion at my hands, the least you could
do is give me your pain,” he hissed, and his fingers brutally crushed her
nipples.
A sharp cry left her lips, and she instinctively tried to jerk away from him.
Muska slapped her across the face. Sheeta heard more than felt her thin
nightdress tear from its deep vee to past her navel, and her husband’s weight
lifted unexpectedly. She looked around in surprise at his sudden retreat, only
to recoil as he shed his robes and nightclothes and retrieved the gold,
sapphire-encrusted scepter symbolizing her station from its display among other
extravagant jewels. He paused to break off a few long twigs from the slim,
potted sapling positioned beneath the dressing room arch and stripped the
leaves off while he made his way back to him.
Fear coiled in her belly, and her hands clenched in the sheets.
He tossed the scepter down beside her, and the sheets made a soft  fwump
beneath its weight.
“If you so much as think to fight me, I’ll have the boy brought just so you can
see him lashed while I fuck you bloody.”
Sheeta forced herself to lie still, repeating spells in her head to slow her
breathing and focus her mind, while Muska began tracing the makeshift switch
over her skin. He started beneath her right ear, and the wood scratched
unpleasantly against her throat, her collarbone, and under each breast before
continuing down to tap lightly against her sex. Watching her face, the king
replaced the rough touch with the firm press of his fingers.
They slipped easily through her slightly dampened folds to find her clit and
rubbed in slow, gentle circles around the tightened nubbin until she felt her
wetness slick the insides of her thighs and make a trail over her perineum and
anus to pool on the sheets underneath her. She twitched unwillingly, biting her
lip against a moan, and  her eyes fluttered closed.
Sheeta heard the strike before she felt white-hot pain bite into her breasts.
Her high-pitched scream echoed through the high-ceilinged chamber. Muska
laughed and resumed toying with her, bringing her again almost to climax before
striking her harder. Tiny droplets of blood beaded over the bright red welts
marking her skin. Her shriek gave way to harsh, shallow breaths.
“I’m going to make you come for me, little slut,” he smirked, speeding his
movements between her legs, one of his fingers dipping occasionally between her
lips to tease  her puffy entrance. “I want to hear you scream for me.”
Despite the horrible, pulsing burn encompassing her chest, his ministrations
quickly brought her again to the brink, but he didn’t slow, and did not raise
the switch. Faster, rubbing in tight little circles, curling against the patch
of nerves nestled inside her.
She felt the building sensation break like a wave, washing through all her
muscles and making her arch off the bedding. The strangled cry rapidly changed
to a shrill scream as finally, he brought the instrument of pain down on her
again, cutting across both nipples in one brutal blow. To her horror and shame,
her orgasm crested a second time, violent in its intensity and leaving her clit
oversensitized and aching.
Muska did not let her rest, however.
Before Sheeta could recover, he tore what remained of her nightdress from her
flushed, trembling body and dragged her up to balance on her knees while he lay
back against the pillows. The man tugged at her curls while wordlessly guiding
her to straddle him backwards with her knees at either side of his head and her
face forced down by his straining cock.
“Take me in your mouth,” he growled and slapped her rear when she didn’t move
quickly enough for his liking.
His young wife hesitantly closed her full lips around the bulbous, reddened
head of his member and nearly gagged.
It tasted pungent, and a sour smell clung to his skin as she awkwardly
stretched her jaw to accommodate more of him, guided by his fist in her hair.
“Move that tongue, and if I feel your teeth, the switch will be the least of
your worries,” he promised breathily.
She obeyed, and the hand holding her down spasmed.  Muska allowed her to ease
the rest of him into her mouth until the tip found the back of her throat,
making her retch. Despite her wordless whimpers, gagging, and trembling, he
kept her in place. Her watering eyes caught movement in her periphery as he
picked up the scepter.
It entered her without warning or additional preparation. The spherical cage of
interlocking gold rings at its end stretched her wide, and each carefully
polished and cut stone covering the intricate metalwork pressed painfully
against her walls until they kissed her cervix. Black spots danced across her
vision, his cock blocking her airway, and just before she collapsed, he yanked
her off to gasp stinging breaths. A twist of his wrist and a short thrust
ground the scepter harder against the bottom edge of her womb. She screamed,
sharp pain rocking her hips forward in an effort to escape.
The motion earned her a sharp slap across the ass and another cruel thrust
before he forced himself into her mouth again.
“Suck it deeper,” he demanded, spanking her again. “And move those hips or I’ll
beat you with it, next. I want to see you fuck yourself, since you find your
husband’s rod so repulsive.”
Tears streamed over her cheeks. She made herself take him deeper, bruising and
burning her throat, and rolled her pelvis. The jewels and sharp edges of the
finial cut her, almost twice as wide in girth as Muska’s cock, and the rounded,
bulging gems climbing the small amount of shaft inside her and against her lips
chafed horribly. Still, she did as he ordered, and in reward, he removed the
hand from her hair to toy with her clit again.
She didn’t expect the orgasm when it hit her. She could only focus on the pain
and humiliation, and the sharp, sudden pleasure felt all the more encompassing
for it. Something viscous and bitterly salty coated her tongue and filled her
throat.
Sheeta coughed violently when he finally finished emptying into her and pushed
her off his softening length. She collapsed onto her elbows, and the man
watched with sadistic enjoyment while she choked around his spunk and as a
little blood slid from her abused opening to the crease of her knee, but he
waited until her breaths evened before issuing his next order.
“You’re wasting all my seed, slut,” he sneered.
She shuddered and struggled several moments to find her voice.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” she managed in a rasp.
The girl wiped some up with her fingers and raised them to her lips.
“No,” Muska stopped her. “What good will it do, there? I want you to deposit it
where it belongs. We do need an heir, after all.”
Sheeta’s hand trembled as she spread her legs, pulled the scepter free with a
muffled cry, and slid her messy fingers inside her aching, burning sex. She
tried to be quick about it, but her husband, anticipating this, issued another
command.
“Finger yourself deeply,” he rumbled, his penis coming to attention again.
The large blue stone adorning his left hand shone as he pumped it slowly in
time to her motions.
She repeated the act, scooping up the cooling semen splattered across the
sheets before touching herself to his directions.
“Rub it into your womb.”
The girl whimpered at the invasive feeling, but her eyes followed the ring.
It took several minutes to satisfy her husband, but too soon, he deemed her
work acceptable and made her straddle him again, this time facing him. Like he
had on their wedding night, the king directed her to impale herself on his
cock, and the intrusion hurt almost as much as then.
===============================================================================
The bright rays of morning brought both pain and an unexpected bit of good
news.
Sheeta woke to find her husband toying with her breasts, and she realized the
sensation of having her bruised nipples tweaked had jolted her from her
nightmares. She lay very still against his smooth chest, impassive while he
cupped her chin and jaw, working a digit between her lips.
“I’m leaving today to meet with the king of Ingary,” he rumbled, forcing her
mouth open and pressing his thumb more insistently into the underside of her
chin while slowly thrusting his forefinger into her mouth, feeling her teeth,
depressing her tongue, playing with her full lower lip while his left hand
continued its painful exploration of her welt-striped breasts. “I owe him a
special demonstration. In the meantime, I’m placing the sentries on full alert,
and I’m activating the city’s siege defenses.”
She barely suppressed a shudder at the pronouncement. Her research had revealed
much about the Laputian builders’ genius for cruelty, which only their
ingenuity and appreciation of beauty rivalled.
“You shall conduct affairs of this household in my absence and in accordance to
the instructions I’ve left with my ministers, but know any attempt at leaving
the castle or its gardens will result in immediate incarceration by the robots
and guards, and anyone sighted or discovered to have a weapon without prior
authorization will face immediate execution at the sentries’ hands. Only my
return two days hence will deactivate the defences. Am I clear?”
Sheeta nodded. She had not contemplated the idea once he informed her of his
plans. He had protected himself on all sides, and any attempts for the Ingarian
nobles to stop him from the ground would result in a swift, brutal example in
Laputa’s remotely-initiated capabilities. With the castle fully operational, a
control crystal could call down fire from hundreds of miles away with perfect
precision.
“I’m to see to business in your stead, and any attempts at escape will result
in my incarceration and the execution of any collaborators,” she muttered
dully.
“Good girl,” he snickered. “Oh, and you’re not to have your marks healed beyond
using a disinfecting salt or applying ointment. I wish to enjoy them when I
return.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Muska spat into her mouth, forced her to swallow, and left her sprawled in the
bed, where Madge found her a half-hour later, shaking and weeping despite her
best efforts.
“I want to see Pazu,” she whimpered after her sobs subsided. “As soon as I
finish meeting with Muska’s advisors. I can’t go to the Undercity, but could
you take him to the kitchens? That way I could see Dola and the boys, too.”
The sweet woman argued out of protectiveness for the battered girl, fearing the
consequences she’d suffer if caught, but the young queen countered her with
perfectly reasonable arguments.
Without Muska in the castle,  she  technically held the highest authority. The
king’s most prominent military leaders would accompany him on his diplomatic
visit, and the majority of the guards would be cowed by the sentries’ increased
presence. The robots, however, would never harm her. Even without her crystal,
she’d learned, they had been built specifically to identify friend, foe, and
members of the royal family on a level she did not fully understand. Perhaps
they memorized faces, or there was another identifier that did not translate
into modern language.
On top of everything else, she also knew where most of the secret paths and
shortcuts hid, so even Madge could not anticipate anyone coming across their
route, or Pazu’s, if Sheeta determined their paths.
Madge helped her mistress to dress in one of the many more formal robes Muska
had commissioned. They debated a short while over how to hide the mark on her
face, which had deepened from red to pale purple bruises shadowing her left
cheek and jaw, and her swollen, scabbed lower lip, but eventually the maid
found an elaborate veil among the queen’s headdresses. Sheeta arranged her hair
in a crown of thinly woven plaits that encircled her head, to which they
fastened the lower part of the peacock-blue veil. It bisected her face,
skimming her nose and resting just below her dark eyes, where a border of tiny,
sparkling gems gave way to a cascading fringe of thin strands of deep green and
purple glass beads over yet more azure cloth. Madge draped the remaining length
of fabric embroidered over Sheeta’s hair, fitting the girl’s favorite gold and
sapphire diadem over top to hold it in place.
By the time they finally departed her chambers, the young woman embodied the
ancient Laputian queens depicted in the glistening mosaics and faded frescoes
adorning so many of the city’s walls, and it seemed to make an impression on
Muska’s council upon her entry into the domed room. The men left behind to
handle things in their king’s absence stood and bowed deeply as Sheeta took her
seat. She noticed even the most zealous and self-serving of Muska’s lesser
advisors eyeing her with a mixture of surprise and begrudging respect. Others,
who she knew to serve only in an effort to protect their homelands, watched the
young queen with unguarded admiration.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting, sirs, and thank you for your patience,”
Sheeta said in a clear, but soft voice once they had retaken their seats. “His
Majesty has asked that I oversee these meetings until his return, and do all I
can to support you in  your individual efforts in addition to the city’s
needs.”
She turned to the man on her left, a swarthy officer with a pointed, black
beard and cold, clever eyes.
“Lord Sylban?”
The most senior member of the council quickly moved to the first order of
business, and Sheeta eased naturally into the role of an administrator. For the
most part, she simply gave her approval for the many ongoing projects engaging
the men at the table, but she paused to more deeply consider the issue Muska’s
minister of health and welfare brought her.
“If I understand you, Lord Nhiles, we’ve lost nearly a hundred workers in the
last month-” she barely stopped herself from saying  slaves , “because of
dysentery ? I’m sorry, but that doesn’t make any sense. Surely they’re using
the city’s plumbing and wells, aren’t they?”
The squat, pudgy man rifled through the papers in front of him, looking
decidedly uncomfortable, before locating what appeared to be a blueprint.
“Well, Madam, no. There were worries the well water had been contaminated with
the flooding, and some were broken, entirely. The engineers haven’t figured out
how to reactivate the plumbing system, yet, so everyone’s been using the lake
water for everything.”
Sheeta rubbed her forehead.
“Despite what their overseers may think, the miners and the rest aren’t stupid.
Haven’t they been boiling-”
The minister’s face reddened.
“Oh, of course. Our guards ration and prepare the water and food, don’t they?”
she frowned beneath the veil, but the man still quailed at her disappointed
sigh.
She rose, walked around to his seat before he could answer, and bent over the
blueprint. She tapped one of the many shining discs of dark aetherium embedded
in the tabletop, and its entire surface glowed suddenly with soft, white,
light, backlighting the document and casting the ink in sharp relief against
the paper. A noise of surprise swept the councilors.
“Here,” she said not unkindly, circling an area of the schematic with a
borrowed pen. “I’ve been researching the city’s planning and history for ages,
now, and that’s where the control runes should be to restore flow to the
fountains and taps through this sector.”
Sheeta paused, her eyebrows pulling together as she digested the rest of the
map. Currently, it seemed they had housed the majority of the male slaves in
the rows of animal pens and previous weapons storage areas, where traditional
bars and gates sealed off access without preventing constant observation. A
note marked a block of what seemed to be small apartments as women’s and
children’s quarters.
“Major Holtz?” she looked up at the bored officer, who stood and saluted her, a
blush coloring his cheeks.
She suppressed a giggle.
“Am I right in thinking your men are missing a lot of training between patrols
in the Undercity?” the queen asked with a tinge of concern. “I know they all
come from-”
Sheeta paused, trying to find a more delicate word than  unsavory .
“Um… Diverse backgrounds, so I imagine they’re a bit difficult to command,
yet.”
The soldier’s shoulders slumped.
“You’ve no idea, Ma’am,” he grumbled. “If we’re not drilling them, we’re
breaking up brawls.”
The corners of her eyes lifted with her answering smile.
“Oh, you must be so very busy,” she said sweetly. “Do you think the General
might consider changing the workers’ housing if you could maintain security and
free up more of your soldiers’ time for drills?”
It was a gamble, but these men didn’t know her, and she felt fairly sure no one
else understood the castle’s workings as well as her, even Muska.
 “Well…” he shifted a little nervously. “I think he might, but it would have to
be a very, very good alternative. There’s been some unrest before, you see.”
“Of course!” Sheeta reassured him. “I just wasn’t sure if you were aware-”
She positioned the blueprint in the middle of the table and turned it so he
could see. A quick examination of the runes and stones beneath her fingertips
allowed her to focus the light in a narrow outline around the current slaves’
quarters.
“Right now, everyone’s living here and here-” she explained, manipulating the
glow to encompass the places indicated. “And your patrols have to split their
time here-”
Several streets glowed at her touch.
“And here,” the girl continued. “But there’s actually a firegate here the
officers could lock with a combination. You could even set a sentry-regulated
curfew from the control panel, there, then you would only need guards outside
the gate, and the workers would still be secure with the robots patrolling the
sector.”
She indicated a symbol in an unbroken wall deeper into the labyrinthine city.
“If only certain officers knew the code…”
The major leaned over the table, muttering to himself, and straightened after a
moment with a broad grin splitting his boyish face.
“If the general agrees to this, Ma’am, you’ll have saved me a load of trouble!”
he said excitedly, making notes in a slim journal he pulled from his breast
pocket. “We’ve been trying to find ways to whip them into shape, and there’s
only so much you can do when you’re that outnumbered and sleep-deprived. Do you
think you could show me how to set it up?”
Sheeta caught Lod Sylban’s frown from the corner of her eye as she nodded her
agreement.
“Of course,” she smiled. “I can help turn on the water, and I’ve been curious
to see the excavation, in any case. My grandmother and mother taught in the
school in our village before they passed, and I always loved the history
lessons.”
“My Lord?” the young officer turned to Sylban.
“Hm,” his fastidiously groomed moustache twitched. “I suppose I could allow it
if Her Majesty agrees to allow me to organize an appropriate escort. After all,
the Undercity’s population aren’t the most cultured of people. We wouldn’t want
to endanger her.”
The queen nodded her head to him in acknowledgment and apparent thanks.
“I would be glad of your protection.”
“Then, of course, we shall escort you tomorrow when we conduct our morning
inspection.”
The remainder of the meeting passed without incident, and Sheeta spend the hour
doing her absolute best not to betray her excitement. The moment the meeting
came to a close, however, and Madge returned to take her back to her chambers,
she felt it overwhelm her. Only the woman’s even footsteps made her walk at a
normal pace, and as soon as her sitting room door closed them off from the
hall, she turned and wrapped the maid in a tight hug.
“They’re taking me to the Undercity tomorrow for inspection,” she whispered.
Madge’s blue eyes widened, and her arms braced the girl’s shoulders.  
“How?!”
“I convinced Major Holtz I could help him make the army more effective and free
up night patrols so they can train more consistently,” she explained under her
breath. “And I didn’t lie, what I suggested is really secure, more than it is
now,  but-”
She grinned broadly, bouncing a little on her toes as she leaned up to speak
into Madge’s ear.
“When I get my crystal back, I can bring down the gate and the walls and
command the robots to go back to sleep, and the workers won’t have to sleep in
cages, anymore, separated out. They can choose quarters and be together with
their families.”
She hugged the woman again, more tightly than before, as she murmured against
her soft shoulder.
“ You  can be with Boss and your boys, and they can see little Susan and baby
Lettie.”
The mother took a moment to process the idea, then pushed Sheeta away to pepper
her face with kisses and gently cup her cheeks.
“Oh, brilliant, wonderful girl!” she breathed, eyes glistening. “Oh, I haven’t-
I thought the next time I’d see any of them would be on the crematory slab
after an accident!”
The woman held her for a short while longer before leaping into action and
dragging the girl into her dressing room for the second time that day.
“While you were with the council, I made one of Dola’s gang - Benito, I think -
play sick so he couldn’t work the kitchens, and one of the foremen owed me a
favor, so I had Benito suggest Pazu, so he’s in there working on dinner for the
workers, now,” she explained in a rush, helping her out of her fine garb and
into a much simpler dress and wrapping her hair and face in a long, pale yellow
scarf to mimic her earlier veil and hide the signs of Muska’s abuse. “I’m going
to leave in a moment with your laundry, and you should be able to meet me just
outside the kitchens using those paths you described. Most of the soldiers are
outside drilling or flying patrols, so it should only be the robots and other
servants, even if you do have to leave them for any reason.”
“Thank you, Madge,” Sheeta whispered fervently as she knelt to the left of her
sitting room fireplace.
The redhead smiled from beside the entrance and shifted the bundle in her arms.
“I’ll see you soon. Just don’t leave your hiding place until I knock, all
right?”
The young queen nodded. The double doors closed, and Sheeta pressed her palms
into the mosaic-covered surface.
It had taken three weeks after her wedding to discover the secret panel hidden
within the floral pattern of smooth, round, swirling stones.
“ Hapoixe .”
With a quiet grinding noise and a little dust, a glowing outline climbed from
the top of one mosaic flower at the wall’s foot to a height a bit taller than
herself, growing to reveal a narrow rectangular outline. The panel blinked once
before sliding smoothly out of sight. Pale yellow crystals embedded in the
ceiling came to life, chasing away the darkness while the smell of sterile air
filled her nose.
Sheeta grinned and set out at a jog, tracing her fingertips over the walls to
activate the lighting behind corners she might have otherwise missed. Two
lefts, straight for several hundred feet, onto a panel that sank down several
levels, then one right until she came to a dead end. She pressed her ear to it,
and several minutes later, Madge rapped on the other side.
The girl’s heart sped, and she eagerly whispered the word to open the door,
exiting into a broad, plain hall lit by narrow shafts cut into the opposite
wall. Scrubbed wooden tables surrounded by wooden stools bisected the space.
Madge’s tense features brightened as the girl stepped from the shadows.
“Come on.”
Together, they turned a corner and walked a short way to an arched door,
through which she could hear the noise of pots and pans clanging, knives
chopping away, and the roiling bubble of boiling liquids. For some reason, she
felt inexplicably nervous. Madge pushed it open, and Dola glanced up from her
place at a messy desk, bent over a ledger, a pair of spectacles perched on her
nose, and her fingers smudged with ink.
“Hello,” she croaked, her withered lips pulling into a slanted grin. “What’re
you doing here? Need some soda fer yer washing?”
Sheeta stepped from behind the taller woman, and Dola straightened to squint at
her.
“Is…” she frowned, and her eyes widened. “Sheeta, is that you under that scarf,
m’girl?”
“Yes,” she nodded and felt tears prick her eyes.
The noise of people hard at work around her paused, and Pazu stepped from
behind a wide, tall stove to stare at her disbelievingly, coal smudging his
brow and cheeks.
“Sheeta?”
The girl ran to him, and the boy clung to her with all his might. Then, she
found herself engulfed in hugs and crows of greeting, and not an insignificant
number of tears.
“Oh, I missed you all so much!” she gasped, accepting the outpouring affection
while keeping one hand securely in Pazu’s warm grasp. “He’s gone, and I’ve been
trying to find ways to sneak around, and with the soldiers mostly outside,
Madge agreed to help me.”
The swarm of exuberant greetings died down as she explained her presence, and
the boys reluctantly returned to their jobs, save for Pazu. Henri took his
place behind the stove with a clap on the shoulder for the younger man, and
then Sheeta noticed the excitement fading in the faces watching her, replaced
by something akin to pity. Pazu, too, had calmed, and his own happy expression
turned grave.
“Sheeta, why are you covering your face?” he asked softly.
Once more, no one spoke. She shook her head, but didn’t stop the boy from
unpinning the plain brooch holding her scarf in place. The soft fabric slid
away from her face, and she winced as his work-roughened hand gently cupped her
cheek, tilting her face toward the light. His fingers trembled, and behind him,
Dola expelled a long sigh.
“I’m fine,” the girl insisted softly. “It’s just a bruise.”
“Just a-”
His fingers jerked away from her skin as if burned and balled up into a fist.
“Just a bruise?!” he looked away from her, his jaw twitching.
“Pazu, please,” Sheeta whispered, covering his clenched hands and gently
loosening his grip. “It really doesn’t hurt. Please, I don’t know how long we
have and I have important news.”
He shook his head, but sat at one of the stools on the other side of Dola’s
desk, pulling her to sit on his lap while he wrapped his hard arms around her
waist. She blushed, but smiled a little when she felt him tuck his face in the
space between her shoulder and neck. She idly thought she should probably be
embarrassed by the very public display of affection, but the other boys
respectfully looked away, and Dola only smiled crookedly.
“I oversaw the council meeting this morning,” she said loudly enough everyone
could hear. “Most of it was just tedium, but when Lord Nhiles told me about the
dysentery and showed me a map of the living level for the Undercity. Tomorrow,
I’m going to help them fix the plumbing so you all can have unlimited access to
clean water, not to mention the baths, but I’m also going to show them how to
seal off the inner ring behind that big wall.”
A few confused murmurs met her declaration.
“I know it’s not much better, but with one access point and a reliable way to
lock everyone away, they won’t need to patrol at night, and you all can have
real living quarters, with private space and everything,” she continued,
dropping her voice into a whisper. “Major Holtz thought it was more secure than
what they have set up now, and he’d be right, but what he doesn’t know is the
combination he sets can be overridden by my crystal.”
Everyone stared at her in amazement, and Madge chuckled.
“I told you we were working on things. It’ll be easier to come up with weapons
with the space and without the mercenary patrols,” she added. “Our lady’s been
spending every morning with those old men in the college learning everything
she can about this place. We just need to build ourselves up, get everyone as
healthy as we can, and we can end Muska once and for all.”
Pazu’s arms tightened around the girl’s waist.
“It’s not fair you have to do all this alone,” he muttered. “I feel so
useless.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Pazu,” Sheeta smiled, running her fingers through his
constantly messy hair.
She wondered, briefly, where his yellow cap had gone.
“I really need your help,” she insisted. “If everything works as it should,
tomorrow, everyone should be a quite a bit happier, but the mercenaries are
going to become much better soldiers with the Major and the general leading
them. Most of the officers are here because they don’t have a choice, unlike
their forces, but with the time to properly train and teach their men some
discipline, they’re going to be less rowdy and a lot happier, too.”
She raised a hand to stop the groans of protest erupting from some of the men.
Dola only smirked.
“My biggest worry in all this was that if we acted too soon and killed Muska
before you were ready, a lot of people would die, even with the robots helping
you. We might still lose, but if we can get the soldiers to be more on our side
than Muska’s…”
“That’s why I like’er better’n you, boy,” the old pirate laughed. “She’s got a
good head on‘er shoulders. This isn’t goin’ ter be a little coup anymore. This
is the stuff of revolutions.”
Sheeta bobbed her head.
“Yes, exactly,” she grinned. “I’m in charge of the council meetings until Muska
returns, and I think most of them like me, already. The Major, at least,
certainly does, and I hope to make a good impression tomorrow, too.”
Pazu frowned.
“So we’ve got to be nicer to the mercs?”
The girl shrugged.
“I’d like it if you were, but some civility would work, just fine. Certainly, I
think they’d lighten up if they stopped thinking of you all like prisoners and
started to know your names, learn your personalities. They’re all terrified of
Muska far more than they want his gold.”
Dola snorted and closed her ledger.
“That’s fer damn sure,” she grunted. “Anyhow, now that business is done, would
you care to join me for lunch?”
“Can we have lunch, too, mom?” Lui piped up, grinning hopefully.”
“No!” the woman snapped. “Get back ter work! We still got ter have dinner ready
for everyone by sundown. Lunch is for clever girls like Sheeta, and Pazu’s
having any because he’s a growin’ boy.”
Dolas sons and crew gave a collective groan, but served up a whole roasted
chicken, vegetables glistening with butter, and fresh bread, anyway. Sheeta
tucked in with more enthusiasm than she’d felt for food in a long while, and
Pazu watched her avidly more than he ate for himself.
“I’m glad you’re all eating well,” the girl said after dabbing her mouth with
her handkerchief. “From how thin Pazu looked-”
She frowned and squeezed his hand.
“I thought-”
“I’ve been missing you too much to be very hungry,” he muttered.
“He’s been hoping we’ll let ‘im starve,” Dola grumbled. “He thinks that
monster’d stop hurtin’ you if he died. He’s tried to pick fights, too. Fool
kid’s gonna get himself shot at the rate he’s goin’.”
Sheeta shook her head sadly.
“Pazu, please, you have to eat and get strong again,” she murmured, leaning
against his shoulder. “Even if you did die, he’d still-”
The girl shuddered and swallowed around the catch in her throat.
“He’d just find another way to make me do what he wants. He’d take one of
Madge’s little girls, or start hurting Dola or any of the boys. He knows me
well enough for your death to stop him. It would just make it harder for me to
get up in the morning, harder to fight in what ways I can.”
She looked up at the boy with a watery smile.
“I love you. You give me hope.”
Pazu stared at her without blinking for several moments before carefully
cupping her cheeks and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“All right,” he promised against her skin. “I just wish I could do more.”
She blushed prettily.
“Um… Do you think you could sneak away during dinner? I’ll be eating in my
rooms until Muska gets back, and there’s a secret passage. I could come get you
and show you the way.”
Madge frowned a little, but didn’t say anything while Pazu flushed scarlet.
Dola laughed a rough cackle.
“Oh, m’girl. I do love yer moxie,” she grinned and stood to load a basket with
several apples, some hard cheese, a thick, salted ham, and a crusty loaf of
dark bread. “Take ‘im now. The only people who pass through here are other
cooks and the servants who eat in that hall where you came in. Just have ‘im
back before ten or so. He has ter clean up from dinner if he’s gonna be off
with you.”
Sheeta wrapped the woman in a hug.
“Thank you, captain.”
With a grin at Madge and wave to the boys, she grabbed Pazu’s hand, looped the
basket over her elbow, and tugged him out the door.
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