[i]"The populace of this planet [Nemi] have a quaint custom, passed down from their forebears; there, Zeus founded an apple tree, with gilt branches and gilt leaves. Around the boughs of this tree was wrapped Nemesis in the form of a Python, blind and lethal. And for three miles around no thing might grow, but was poisoned root and leaf; and no stone could be placed upon another, but would shiver themselves into shards. And the Rex [king] of this planet is held to speak with the voice of the gods, and at their word is the fate of nations decided.

And any who seek the title are bade to seek out this tree, and climb upon the sun-bleached bones of all who have come before and been found unworthy by the fangs of Nemesis; and then, to seize firmly one bough of this tree, and if the gods are with them, then the branch will cleave from its mother like the daughter who is given to her suitor's hand. They are then to carry this bough before the Rex, and cast it at the monarch's feet, still bearing fruit.

Then they are to fight until only one remains alive, and whosoever lives shall be the Rex; and in the case of mutual destruction, the people of this planet shall mourn for thirty days; then they shall send those youths whose coming of age was on the day of ruin, and one by one they shall be sent to meet the jaws of Nemesis.[/i]

- Sullust, [i]The Histories[/i].

***

No. No! Redana's hands fly to her mouth to stifle a cry. No! This is a [i]horror.[/i] Her muscles clench involuntarily, her instincts telling her to run, to flee, or to strike the queen down where she stands. She swallows it down, but it is all of her discipline, her self-control, not to satisfy the mania that Phobos, daughter of Ares, stirs within her. Thanks be to Athena, quencher of passions; thanks be to Zeus, who holds the chains that bind both guest and host.

She stands, stiff, feeling the blood pumping through her neck and forehead as the queen advances in a passion. She means to say something pleasant despite herself, to weakly thank her hostess for her hospitality, but what tumbles out instead is simply: "What have you [i]done[/i]?" She advances, a fallen fragment of sunlight against an oncoming storm, trembling. "I worried I brought something terrible to this place, but the rot was already here! How [i]dare[/i] you stay here! You have a [i]duty![/i]" Phobos cups her fingers shut into a fist. "If you have [i]any[/i] honor left, [i]Rex Asebeia[/i], then ostracize yourself!"

How dare she? How [i]dare[/i] she? The duties of the monarch are clear! The pursuit of the common good, the mediation with the gods on behalf of the nation... even if Redana disagreed with her mother's stagnant quarantine of humankind, even [i]she[/i] would expel herself from Tellus if the gods had made such omens clear, wouldn't she? No, she can't even imagine her mother clinging to her marble throne, watching the skies darken and the earth crack under the hooves of Poseidon Enosichthon, spitting defiance at the heavens the way that Molech did at the fall of the Atlas Cultural Sphere. But it is a self-fulfilling doom; if the queen of Ceron has fallen so far, then of course, of [i]course[/i] she gathers her strength about her and tries to spit in the eye of Zeus Olympios. A woman in such a state might do anything.

Ice trickles down her spine. A woman in such a state might do [i]anything[/i]. She is freed of the bans laid upon all beings, the ancient laws set by Zeus Aegiduchos over all who strive, for having broken one she is damned, and refusing repentance, may do as she pleases. It is forbidden for her to raise a hand against Redana, just as it is forbidden for Redana to raise a hand against her, but only Redana remains bound. It is forbidden for Epistia to take her mother's life, but...

Redana takes one step to the left, putting herself between mother and daughter. Her throat closes up and the world narrows. The mist's kisses trickle down her neck and she does not flinch. If she lashes out, if she does anything to respond to whatever violence the damned queen may choose to inflict, she is condemned in turn, but... but there are no laws concerning where one may stand. That is given to everyone to choose freely. And right here? Right now?

Redana stands between mother and daughter, and forces her fingers to splay, to not become a treacherous fist. She mouths something, but not even she knows what is trying to come out, and there is no breath in her, not any more. All that is left is the way she grinds her heel against the grass and refuses to look away.