"Demons"
by Mayetra & Beryll
It was good to be home, Petronius thought as he and his men approached the city gates. Their hunt had been successful and he was in an especially good mood. Today was Fahima’s birthday and he was happy that he would not miss it. It wasn’t everyday your only daughter turned 13. Laughing at a story one of his captains had just finished, he reached out with him mind to check the general mood of the city. Finding nothing amiss, he then reestablished his mental bond with Fahima. Instead of his spirited daughter, however, he found a gibbering mess. He prodded more thoroughly causing her mind to shrink further back, curling into the equivalent of a tight, quivering ball. A weak whimper drifted through the echoing silence of her mind, No more… Please Allah, no more.
He muttered a soft curse, relatively sure what had taken place during his absence. He was angry with himself. He should have foreseen this outcome and done more to prevent it. He had spoken to Anthemios about this before but obviously not sternly enough. He wasn’t overly worried about Fahima; she was a strong girl and would recover from whatever Anthemios had done this time. Still it was a situation that might have been avoided with a little more consideration on his part.
As soon as Petronius and his men arrived back at the fortress, he issued a few last orders before heading to his brother’s villa. Knocking politely, he waited only a few moments before Anthemios answered.
“Brother!” Anthemios gushed. “It is good to see you have returned home. Was your hunt successful?” He appeared unconcerned and as usual didn't pick up on Petronius’ silent disapproval. Instead he continued to babble on with meaningless pleasantries after standing aside to allow Petronius to enter.
“Where is Fahima?” Petronius asked coldly.
Anthemios beamed at his brother. “She is playing with her new friends.”
Petronius wasn't entirely sure what to make of that ridiculous statement. Fahima didn't 'play' and certainly not with 'girls'. He didn't waste any more attention on Anthemios, who was beyond hope anyway. Without a word, he strode down the hall toward the back of the villa where Anthemios had gestured.
The shorter vampire bustled along side, trying to keep pace with Petronius’ longer stride, continuing to ramble on excitedly. “Oh, wait until you see her, Brother. Her social skills have improved vastly and she has become quite the proper young lady. Her manners are much better now and I predict that she will be the little darling of court!”
That certainly didn't sound good.
Petronius entered the well-lit courtyard and surveyed the damage with the eye of a general surveying the wounded on a battlefield. The air was scented with a mix of night blooming flowers, heady incense and perfume. Large, soft, pastel pillows were scattered about the covered area and on them lounged a gaggle of young girls about Fahima age. There were low tables about piled high with fruits, cheeses, breads, sweets and other foods, obviously prepared as part of a birthday celebration for Fahima. A few of Anthemios’ servants sat in one corner playing soft music.
For a brief moment, Petronius thought that Fahima wasn’t present. However, the horror of what exactly had been done to his fierce warrior queen became very clear when he noticed her. She was sitting on a pillow, her face emotionless, eyes blank, and a tiny line of drool leaking from one corner of her mouth. She had been stripped of her armor, which she had insisted be crafted to match his own exactly. Every speck of dirt, dust and grime had been scrubbed from her body. Her hair shone blue-black in the soft torchlight and had been neatly trimmed. Her ragged nails were now smooth and even. All the ground in dirt beneath them had been removed and someone had lacquered them with pale pink polish.
One of the girls was brushing the back of her hair, which fell freely to the edge of her shoulders. The sides of her hair had been pulled up away from her face, held by two small combs. A garland of tiny pink flowers interwoven with pink, blue, and green ribbons rested upon the top of her head. Her face had been painted and while the face paint had been subtly applied, it still looked out of place on Fahima.
A silk undergown of baby blue clung to her newly developed curves. He allowed himself a brief mental grin at the memory of Fahima indulging in a rare fit of tears when she realized that she was losing her boyish figure forever. The outer gown was comprised of several gauzy layers that would shift from opaque to transparent as Fahima moved. It was a pastel green and seeded with tiny pink beads. A pair of blue satin slippers embroidered with green thread and more pink beads covered her feet. Petronius could see that some time during the past two weeks, someone had pierced Fahima’s ears because each lobe held a tiny pink pearl earring.
The entire appraisal lasted seconds. Petronius had forgotten how delicately built Fahima actually was. He reminded himself that his beloved daughter might look like she was made of rare glass but in fact she was more akin to steel.
“Isn’t she just beautiful, Petronius,” Anthemios asked with a satisfied sigh, his eyes resting lovingly on Fahima.
Petronius shot his brother a grim look resisting the urge to strangle a creature that didn't need to breathe. “You and I need to have a long, long talk about my daughter, Brother, but not now.”
Anthemios face fell slightly at the hard tone of Petronius’ voice.
Petronius ignored him and strode toward Fahima, the girl brushing her hair wisely scuttling away.
Fahima shuddered once and a small whimper escaped her as Petronius scooped her up and held her close to his chest, managing not to wince at the cloud of expensive perfume that shrouded her. He carried her from the villa, stopping outside to consider the quickest way to get her back to some semblance of her old self. Coming to a decision, he strode off in the direction of the waterfront.
He pressed her mind gently, seeing if he could get a response now that they were away from the villa. Fahima shivered violently against him for a moment, weakly crying out in her mind, No more giggling… Can’t take it…
Petronius retreated back, now sure that it would take a bit of a shock to draw her out again. He kept his calming presence wrapped around her mind. At this hour of night he quickly found a quiet area along the docks away from the ships and dockworkers. He strode down a long wooden pier until he reached the end and without a second glance at her hideous attire, tossed Fahima into the water.
He waited, arms crossed as she sunk beneath the inky surface. She reappeared rather quickly, sputtering and yelling at the top of her lungs, “Papa! Save me!” Fahima was still seemingly half mad and only vaguely aware of her surroundings. “Not another bath… Please Allah. No!”
Petronius made no move to pull her from the water. His daughter could swim like a fish. As soon as the dress she was wearing became waterlogged and begin to pull her under she would snap out of it. Fahima’s instinct for survival was strong.
She continued to whimper and babble incoherently for a few moments before she began having difficulties keeping her head above water. Her eyes seemed to clear a bit more and she willingly dunked back under. Pet watched, keeping a careful tab on her through their bond, ready to offer immediate assistance if she had any trouble. He wasn’t about to let her drown.
But, just as he knew she would, Fahima returned to the surface, naked, having stripped off the offending clothing. She swam in place, her eyes darting around before finally settling on him. Recognition flared in them, but she still asked, “Papa?”
Petronius tried not to wince at how broken her voice sounded. He reminded himself that the damage to her was not permanent. He grinned down at her instead. “Yes?” he said, presenting the calm confidence she needed now.
“Where were you? I screamed and screamed for you to come.” Fahima was nearly in hysterics, the corner of one eye twitching madly. “They wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t find you.” She reached up for him so that he could pull her from the water.
Keeping his arms crossed, he resisted the urge to pull her to him. “You won’t come out until the paint comes off!” he told her sternly.
“Paint…” Fahima’s expression became one of increased confusion. It was obvious that she had retreated to the relative safety of catatonia by time the face paint had been applied.
“The stuff on your face. You look like a painted doll.” He explained. Give her an opponent to tackle and she would be feeling much better.
Fahima made a gargled sound of horror and shuddered. The twitch in her eye got more severe before she dunked her head back under water.
Petronius sent her a mental image of her face so that she would be sure to wash it all off. He felt another tremor as she realized exactly what had been done to her.
She finally surfaced, gasping for breath, and asked hysterically, “Is it off?” The eye twitch had expanded to include most of her cheek and jaw.
“Mostly. Here, let me help.” He hunkered down and gently wiped the last remain rouge from her cheek. Then he gripped her underneath each arm and hauled her easily out of the water. She was dripping wet and her hair was a tousled mess. “Much better,” he announced with a wide grin.
Fahima, however, was still suffering the aftereffects of the trauma she had endured over the past two weeks. She was shaking uncontrollable, the entire side of her face twitching, and babbling almost incoherently. ‘Demons, Papa! They were demons. They… they giggled… all the time. They never stopped.”
“Those girls?”
“I kept trying to escape, but they were always there,” Fahima continued wildly, seemingly unaware of his question.
Petronius tried to make sense of what she was telling him, unsure if she was lost in some delusion or truly believed that she had been left in the care of demons. “Who?”
Fahima became silent then. The shudders had stopped and for a second, Petronius wondered if she had retreated once more. He pulled off his cloak and rubbed her marginally dry with it before wrapping it around her, sitting on the dock and pulling her into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and probed her mind. She seemed to be trying to make sense of the past two weeks. Everything was jumbled in her mind, but Petronius was still able to decipher most of what happened.
He saw himself dropping her off at Anthemios’ with a strict warning to obey his brother and not give him any grief. That had been a mistake, Petronius realized immediately. His intent had been to keep his spirited child from running wild and creating havoc in his absence, something Anthemios seemed ill equipped to deal with. Fahima had his brother firmly wrapped around her finger and Petronius had not wanted to chance her getting into serious trouble In hindsight he realized that he had effectively trapped her. Had he not given her that order, she would have sought refuge with Symeon. While the younger vampire was a scoundrel, his brother, Gesu, would have kept a watchful eye on Fahima and seen to it that she stay out of any real trouble or danger.
More images tumbled through her mind. Fahima being given a proper bath in a real tub complete with flower petals floating on the surface. She must have been told by Anthemios to allow the girls to tend to her because she could have easily fought them off. The images continued to appear randomly. There was one of Fahima, naked and furious, as several of the girls surrounded her and held up different pastel monstrosities to see which one would ‘go with her skin tone best’. More of the same followed, Fahima constantly surrounded by girls who giggled and primped when they weren’t ‘fixing’ her up.
Fahima suddenly looked up at him wild eyed, drawing his attention. “The demons… Uncle Anthe said they were my friends. But they were evil… pure evil! Always giggling…” Her voice trailed off.
“The girls,” Petronius muttered, more to himself. “I really need to speak with Anthemios.”
The young girl in his lap shuddered yet again. “I disobeyed… I snuck out the window, but they followed… Wanted to know what game we were playing… I didn’t understand. I told them it was no game. They just giggled…” Fahima closed her eyes as though in pain. She opened them a moment later and continued, “Wanted to know what boy I was going to see. I told them I was going to see Symeon, but they wouldn’t let me go. They pulled me back in… said I needed to make myself pretty…”
The face spasm was back in full force. “They tortured me then….” Obviously, she still hadn’t put the images in her mind in any semblance of a timeline because she switched subjects, with a slight whimper. “They took away my armor… said that it wasn’t proper. I was screaming for you! You didn’t come save me, Papa!”
Petronius suppressed a wince. He had told her many times before that he would always come and rescue her. He half expected to see hurt or hate shining in her eyes but there was only mild confusion and love. He realized that nothing could have hurt him more. “I went to slay the raiders. Remember, Luv?”
Fahima’s eyes went blank for a moment, the twitch in her face suppressed. “Yes… yes… that’s right. Papa had to go away. Left me with Uncle Anthe and the demons.”
Hugging her close to him, Petronius said, “I’m back now, Luv.” He pulled back and brightened considerably. “Which reminds me, I have brought you a present!”
Fahima nodded but continued to cling to him in desperation. He could feel that she was afraid to let him go, terrified that if she did, he would leave her again. “Don’t let them get me, Papa! They… they were awful.”
“No, Luv,” Pet reassured her before he placed a kiss on her damp hair. “I assure you, you will never see them again.”
His face was grim as he rose, lifting her with him easily. He set out back toward the fortress. It only took him a few minutes to arrive there. The soldiers were still unpacking and caring for the horses. Most of them called out greetings to Fahima. If they realized that anything was wrong, they kept quiet about it. They respected and loved her enough to know that Fahima wouldn’t want to be coddled by them.
“Have you put it up already?” Petronius called out to one of them.
“Yes, sir, at the gate.”
Petronius turned on his heel and carried Fahima back outside. He looked up along the top of the wall before pointing upward at the bloody, severed head on a pike above the gate. “See, Papa brought you a present. That’s the head of the evil bandit king who kept robbing our traders!”
Fahima looked up, staring at it a moment. Her eyes cleared more than they had since Petronius first fetched her from Anthemios’ villa. A slow smile crossed her face as she realized exactly what she was looking at. Petronius knew that his darling daughter was a solider at heart and full appreciated what he was offering her.
“Can I go with you next time, Papa? I want to hunt bandits too. Please…”
Petronius looked at her thoughtfully. It was the first coherent thing she had said all evening. He knew that she really wasn’t ready to be thrust into a battle, but he didn’t have the heart to disappoint her. She was starting to respond now and he wanted to keep her doing so. He knew that if he had to go out again before she was ready that he would most likely leave her with Gesu, but he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt that she would be. After all she would probably be safer with him in battle than she had been with Anthemios. “A week ago, I would have said no, but considering matters now… I guess you will be able to, provided that you have trained hard and are fit for the job.”
Fahima nodded, a look of fierce determination on her face. It wavered and was quickly replaced by one of complete panic. “The demons! Uncle Anthe said they were my birthday present.” The side of her face twitched violently as she said the word ‘birthday’. “I don’t have to keep them do I?”
“No, Luv, Uncle Anthemios meant that they would keep you company during your birthday, not that you had to keep them.”
Her face twitched again when she heard the word ‘birthday’. Petronius made note of the twitch in her face but brushed aside any concern. In a few weeks, she would forget what happened and the nervous tick would disappear permanently.
The panic had not disappeared. “They still have my armor… and… and my sword.” Panic had grown to horror. “I was going to chop off their heads but Uncle Anthe said I wasn’t allowed!”
Petronius suppressed a chuckle at the vision of Fahima massacring the whole giggling horde of females in Anthemios’ parlor. “I will get your things back for you, Luv, never fear. You won’t have to go back there.”
He carried her back inside the fortress and up to their chamber. He was pleased to feel that while she was still a bit twitchy, she seemed more herself the closer they got to their destination. He entered the room and an idea struck him. “Luv, I think I put my comfortable boots under the bed when I left… Can you get them for me?”
Just as he thought she would, Fahima scrambled down from his arms and wiggled under her side of the bed. A few moments later, she immerged from his side, boots in hand and completely covered in dust and grime. He grinned happily at her, “That is the girl I know and love!” Petronius promptly sent her an image of herself still partially damp and well on her way to being filthy again.
Fahima sighed with relief and began looking for the smelliest, filthiest tunic and shorts she could find. Petronius knew it would be at least a month before he could even consider making her take a bath in the bay. He just hoped she didn’t start to smell to badly before then.
“Why did Uncle Anthe do this to me Pet? Doesn’t he love me anymore?”
Fahima’s question pulled him from his thoughts. “I think some of Michael’s madness rubbed off on him, that’s what I think,” he told her grimly. Of course that wasn't true but it was a good enough explanation for Fahima. “Remember when I told you I would need some whacking if that ever happened to me?”
Fahima nodded at him, settling cross-legged on the bed.
“I think your uncle needs a good whacking now.” Petronius squared his shoulders. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go slay some demons, reclaim my daughter’s weapons and armor, and smack some sense back into my brother!”
“Don’t hit him too hard, Papa,” Fahima said worriedly. No matter how much trauma she had suffered, she still loved Anthemios dearly. “He is my favorite uncle.”
Petronius was amazed at Fahima’s capacity for forgiveness, something that she reserved for very few people. She had a wicked temper when it was roused but rarely did she direct it at Anthemios, Symeon, or himself. “It’s all for his own good,” he told her, but he had already decided that hitting his brother would get him nowhere. He and Anthemios would have a very stern talk and that was all. After which, he would insist that the girls be sent away from the city, never to return. Petronius would not allow the accidental sight of them send Fahima back into another spell of madness.
*~*
Fahima was playing with her toy soldiers putting them through some basic tactical maneuvers when Pet returned. He placed her armor and weapons on the bed and then handed her a long lock of blonde hair before settling on the floor opposite her with the soldiers between them. Without a word, Fahima set the hair on her night table. Later, she would bind it with some leather and secure it to the scabbard of her sword as a trophy.
Pet smiled at her before moving the wooden men around and lecturing her on a new tactical maneuver. Fahima sighed happily; it was good to have her Papa back home with her, where he belonged.
END
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