Nezzar

Part Two: You Calm My Mind

Nezzar had arrived at Babylon near midnight, a full day ahead of his troops and the first batch of war spoils they transported. He had sent a message informing his officials to forgo the pomp in honour of his return. Something else was feasting on his mind. Nothing he did rid him of those grisly visions of Amytis's corpse. It clung to his mind with a strength he could not overcome, and with it came a certainty that Amytis would indeed end up murdered.

It was confusing, and a paranoid part of Nezzar was beginning to wonder if Hophrah did something to him—a twisted attempt to sully Babylon's victory. Despite killing thousands and seeing death in its most hideous form, not once had Nezzar been tortured with gruesome images of his mother or late father.

Gritting his teeth, Nezzar surged out of the warm pool. He grabbed a towel and dried off his body as he strolled to his main chamber. Amytis would be asleep by now, but that mattered little. He would go to her palace and see how she fared. Maybe if he sees her alive and healthy, the relentless visions would cease.

After shrugging on his robe, Nezzar buckled his belt and grabbed his sheathed sword before marching out of his chambers, wet hair and all. His guards trailed his exit as he made a beeline for his carriage.

"Make haste," Nezzar commanded before knocking the carriage roof once.

Worry tightly coiled Nezzar's insides. The intensity of the emotion was foreign to him, yet he could not brush it off. Even when his father was sick and he had to go off to battle on his own, he had never experienced this kind of worry. The mere thought of his wife dying had left him in a tormented state for weeks, robbing him of the ability to bask in the sweetness of victory. His fist tightened.

Why did the carriage ride feel so long? Impatient, Nezzar glanced out the window to see how far they had come. He must have been mad to commission her palace so far away from the palace. She will be moved back to the main palace by tomorrow.

Nezzar had sent a messenger to stop her palace guards from announcing his arrival. Since he was acting on his paranoia, there was no need to show his weakness to Amytis. Once he confirmed she was in perfect condition, he would return to his palace.

Alighting immediately his carriage door was opened, Nezzar swept his gaze about Amytis palace as he made his way up the steps. Every shadow suddenly seemed suspicious, and every corner was an excellent hiding spot for an enemy. This would not do.

On silent footsteps, Nezzar made his way down corridors and straight to Amytis' chambers. Doing his best to be quiet, he pushed her door open. A thought struck him: an assassin could also easily sneak in. Killing the guards at her door would be easy for a decently skilled one. Shaking off the grim thought, Nezzar shut the door behind him. Instead of approaching her bed, he walked around her chambers, inspecting every shadowed corner and looking into every room and balcony. Nothing appeared suspicious.

Finally able to relax, Nezzar walked to her bed. She slept on her side, her face beautiful and calm in rest. Blissfully unaware of an intruder. Allowing himself to be eaten by paranoia was foolish, but Nezzar couldn't help his thoughts.

Unable to resist, Nezzar shook Amytis awake as he settled next to her. The light from the lamp sitting on the stool to her left had been dimmed by a thin clay dome that mimicked the appearance of a basket.

"Nezzar? Is that you?" Amytis' voice was rough from sleep as she blinked his way. Whatever this feeling was that surged in Nezzar's heart at the sight of her, he wanted more of it.

Kicking off his slippers, Nezzar settled more comfortably next to her and drew in her soft, pleasant scent. "Yes, I have returned."

"Let me see your face." She removed the lamp cover and faced Nezzar once more. The soft light of the light was a halo behind her, and Nezzar couldn't see every detail of her face, still, a mixture of relief, happiness and the need to simply hold her surged within him.