The Whore of Babylon

By TudorPrincess

3.3M 101K 8.9K

1750 BC, Ancient Sumeria: When her home city is conquered by a notoriously cruel prince, Eliana's world is to... More

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2 | part 1
Chapter 2 | part 2
Chapter 3 | part 1
Chapter 3 | part 2
Chapter 3 | part 3 [warning: R rated content]
Chapter 4 | part 1
Chapter 4 | part 2
Chapter 4 | part 3
Chapter 5 | part 1
Chapter 5 | part 2
Chapter 5 | part 3
Chapter 6 | part 1
Chapter 6 | part 2
Chapter 6 | part 3
Chapter 7
Chapter 8 | part 1
Chapter 8 | part 2
Chapter 9 | part 1 [warning: moderate R rated content]
Chapter 9 | part 2
Chapter 10 | part 1
Chapter 10 | part 2
Chapter 11
Chapter 12 | part 1
Chapter 12 | part 2
Chapter 12 | part 3
Chapter 13 | part 1
Chapter 13 | part 2
Chapter 13 | part 3
Chapter 14 | part 1
Chapter 14 | part 2
Chapter 14 | part 3
Chapter 15 [warning: R-rated content]
Chapter 16
Chapter 17 | part 1
Chapter 17 | part 2
Chapter 17 | part 3
Chapter 19
Chapter 20 | part 1
Chapter 20 | part 2
Chapter 21
Chapter 22 | part 1
Chapter 22 | part 2
Chapter 23 | part 1
Chapter 23 | part 2
Chapter 23 | part 3
Chapter 24 | part 1
Chapter 24 | part 2
Chapter 24 | part 3
Chapter 25 | part 1
Chapter 25 | part 2
Chapter 25 | part 3
Chapter 26 | part 1
Chapter 26 | part 2
Chapter 26 | part 3
Chapter 27 | part 1
Chapter 27 | part 2
Chapter 27 | part 3
Chapter 28 | part 1
Chapter 28 | part 2a (Micro chapter)
Chapter 28 | part 2b
Chapter 28 | part 3
Chapter 29 - Finale
Epilogue
Author's note: An open letter to my fans

Chapter 18

42.5K 1.4K 155
By TudorPrincess

Stuck.

The word echoed in Eliana's ears, repeating itself until it was nothing but a deafening thrum filling her mind. Another word began to creep in, growing louder and louder, beating in her head as steady as a drum.

No. No. No, no, NO!

'What is the danger?' Samsu was saying.

'You may have to choose, sir. The life of the mother or the child.'

'The child then,' he answered without hesitation. 'Children take months to grow, but new concubines are easily found. Cut it out of her if you have to; I need an heir.'

'No!' screamed Eliana, leaping to her feet. 'You can't! Not Kisha – no!' She thrashed against the chain, trying to snap it, pull it from the wall, break her collar – anything to get to her sister's bedside.

Samsu gave her a mild look and turned back to the physician, 'but before you do, bring this one a sedative. I cannot abide hysteria.'

'Sir,' the physician bowed and retreated.

'Let me go!' shrieked Eliana in a frenzy. 'I have to go to her. You can't keep me here!'

He chuckled, 'I think you'll find that I can.'

'No!' She fought harder against her restraints. 'She needs me!'

'She needs to deliver my son safe and intact.'

'You heartless bastard! If you ever loved your sister, you'd let me go to mine!'

Samsu raised an eyebrow and gave a nod to the Brute at his guard post. He walked towards Eliana, flexing his fingers. She was too full of fire and desperation to care, pulling against her chain, leaning out to meet him in her anger.

He aimed a vicious blow at her face – she ducked at the last second and he struck only air.

She barely had time to register the surge of triumph before the Brute brought his heavy fist down on the back of her head – with a blinding flash of pain, her knees buckled and she fell onto the cushions. Within seconds the Brute had flipped her onto her back, pinning both her arms with one powerful hand, using the other to steady his balance and kneeling across her legs with a weight so crushing she thought her bones would turn to powder.

Still, she fought; heedless of the pain, she writhed and twisted like a snake, thrashing her head and torso. The Brute bared his teeth and laughed at her.

The physician's owl-face appeared above her, a drinking bowl in his hand, his brow wrinkled in concern. 'Sir, I cannot administer the draught while she moves so much.'

'Sedating a whore should not be a three-man job.' Samsu sighed and slid from his bed. He twisted his hand into the hair at her scalp and held her head immobile, pulling it up a little so that the physician could tip the tincture down her throat.

Keeping her mouth firmly closed, Eliana stared at Samsu, her black eyes burning with a hatred deeper than she would have ever known she could feel. She knew that she was fighting the inevitable, that he would have her sedated one way or another, but every moment the physician was here was another moment of life for Kisha – perhaps giving the baby precious time to right itself and come unassisted into the world.

Samsu rolled his eyes and pinched her nose, preventing her from breathing. She held out for torturous seconds, perhaps half a minute or more, her lungs aflame and screaming for air, before her body betrayed her and her mouth burst open to suck in a quick gasp of air.

The physician moved like lightning, tipping the bitter mixture down her throat the moment her mouth opened so that she inhaled as much of it as she swallowed. It burned and stung – she coughed and spluttered as she tried to clear it from her lungs, fighting to free her hands so that she might sit up and force herself to vomit before the potion could begin its awful work.

Samsu saw her intent. 'Hold her until it takes effect,' he commanded the Brute, letting go of her hair and nose and moving to resume his relaxed posture on the bed.

The physician disappeared to tend to Kisha.

Eliana screamed and fought as long as she was able; within minutes, the draught affected her. Her screams became whispers, and her limbs grew as stiff and heavy as tree boughs. The world began to dim and she could fight no longer as the blackness crept over her eyes and slowed her heart rate.

**

Her head throbbed. Torches flamed in their brackets; the dancing light hurt her eyes. She felt like her brain was made of unspun wool, and her arms and legs might have been iron.

A pulse of nausea tugged at her stomach, and a dark shadow seemed to be pressing down on her. Something terrible had happened, but she could not remember what it was.

She lifted her head weakly, looking around. The room was as neat and in order as it always was. Ashan sat on the floor cushions a short distance away, discussing a tablet with... Samsu.

At the sight of him, all her memories came flooding back.

'Kisha!' she tried to shout, tried to stand, but her knees would not support her weight, and the shout was barely a sigh.

Nonetheless, Samsu heard it.

'Ah, karkittu. You're awake, I see. Have you quite recovered from your hysteria?'

'What have you done with Kisha?' she tried to sound strong, but her voice rasped out of her throat as though had been dragged over sand all the way.

'I have not done anything with your sister. I've been here the whole time, watching you sleep, and very peaceful you looked, too...'

'Tell me!' she was almost in tears.

He sighed in exasperation. 'The physician cut the baby out of her, as I ordered. The concubine is dead...'

Eliana screamed – a high-pitched wail of grief that tore from the very heart of her.

'... and all for nothing. She bore another useless daughter – a sickly thing unlikely to live out the night.'

She collapsed, sobbing wildly.

'So, it would appear that I have a marital vacancy. Perhaps I'll take you to fill it.'

'No,' she gasped between sobs. 'Please no – let me see her. I don't believe you! You're just saying it to be cruel. Let me see my sister. Please...' she tailed off, struggling for breath.

'Sir, perhaps it might be best to let her go.' Ashan murmured.

Samsu growled. 'I suppose so. I certainly can't put up with this weeping and wailing all night.'

Ashan moved to her and bent to unlock her chain. As soon as she heard the click, Eliana tried to leap to her feet and run – she dropped forward onto her hands and knees; still her legs would not hold her.

Catching her around the waist, Ashan lifted her to her feet as though she were weightless as a gidim. He offered his arm as support and began to walk her towards the door – each step was an exhausting effort for Eliana as the drug lingered in her body.

As they reached the door, Samsu called after them, 'see you return immediately, Ashan. We still have matters to discuss.'

'Yes, sir,' Ashan called back over his shoulder, stepping through the door and closing it behind them. As soon as it was safely shut, he picked her up in his arms and strode through the darkness to Kisha's rooms, putting Eliana down just over the threshold.

She stumbled her way to Kisha's bedroom, struggling to maintain her balance and avoid the obstacles in the dark.

A light flickered through the door to the bedchamber.

Clinging to the doorframe, she took in the scene.

The only light in the room came from the lamp burning beside Kisha's bed, the orange flame vividly illuminating the sheets so saturated with blood that they were almost black. Mari sat on a stool beside the bed, keeping vigil, clutching a tiny bundle in her arms.

Though the sheets were bloodied, Kisha was clean. She had been carefully sponged off, and her face looked at peace. Eliana approached the bed and tentatively touched her sister's arm. It was already cold, the skin waxen and unreal in the quivering lamplight.

She gave another heartbroken wail and fell to her knees at the bedside, sobbing as she clutched her sister's lifeless hand.

Mari and Ashan exchanged uncomfortable looks.

Eliana sensed them watching, and turned to face them, her eyes blazing with sudden fury. 'Get out!' she cried, 'both of you – go! Leave us alone.'

'Are you sure?' Ashan asked, his voice soft and calming.

'I was chained up,' she hissed bitterly, 'what's your excuse? Both of you were free, and neither of you saved her.'

Mari opened her mouth to protest – there was nothing they could have done, Eliana knew it as well as they did. Ashan caught her eye shook his head in silence – the agony was fresh, and she must blame someone, anyone, everyone for it.

They left quietly, closing the door behind them.

Eliana sobbed herself into exhaustion. When she had no more tears to shed, she climbed up onto the bloodied bed and curled up against Kisha's cold body, as if she might infuse her with some of her own warmth and life.

When she woke in the morning, her gown was stained with Kisha's blood. Numb and half-dead herself, Eliana was too full of grief to think. The first thing her eyes took in when she opened them was Kisha's face – for a moment, she could have been sleeping, but she was too pale, and the metallic-smelling stickiness beneath her brought the reality back with crushing misery.

A small bundle had been placed between them – a tiny, tiny baby. Eliana sat upright, picked the child up and cradled it in the crook of her arm. It struggled to breathe – each inhalation sounding harsh and laboured.

'She still needs a name.' Mari sat on a stool in the corner of the room, watching over Eliana and the baby.

Looking down at her newest niece, Eliana was stunned that she had survived the night. She was perfect in every detail from her littlest toe to the delicate whorl of her ears, but so small, so delicate... almost translucent.

Eliana shook her head. 'Later. I'll name her later. Where's Sarri?'

'She's playing quietly in my room – she's been asking for her mother.'

'And what have you told her?'

'I've given her excuses – mother is busy, sleeping, bathing... anything but the truth.'

Eyes filling with tears again, Eliana thought of these two tiny, defenceless girls alone in the palace, with no mother to protect them and an aunt no better than a slave. They had been robbed of their mother as she had been robbed of hers... only far more cruelly – they lost theirs by their father's word.

'It is for me to tell her,' Eliana said heavily. 'I owe her that much. Help me change my gown – I don't want to go to her stained with her mother's blood.' She glanced down at the babe in her arms, 'it's time she met her baby sister. I only hope that she looks after this little one as well as Kisha did me.'

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