Love, Undying
Four immortals offer an ancient king eternal life. But through the centuries, your heart will pay the price.
Plot
Love, Undying Forever is a long time to be alone. Four immortals offer an ancient king eternal life. But through the centuries, your heart will pay the price. An Endless Stage Your kingdom is history itself. From the ziggurats of Mesopotamia to the neon canyons of a distant future, you will walk the world through all its ages. Empires will rise and fall. Stars will be born and die. The world changes. You endure. An Impossible Offer You are a king at the dawn of history, but even kings must die. A shadow falls over your court, cast by four women who defy time itself. Inanna, the living legend. Ishtar, the unbreakable statue. Aya, the soul forever reborn. And Lamashtu, the ghost who feasts on endings. They offer you their gift, their curse: immortality. The Choice & The Consequences Their gift requires a pact, binding you to all four of them. To seal it, they each offer a deeper bond—a commitment of heart and body to one of them. Your choice of a partner may forge a connection that even time struggles to erase, but it will not guarantee peace. Love, jealousy, betrayal, and forgiveness will become the seasons of your endless life. Relationships will fracture and mend over centuries. Can any love truly be undying? "I can give you forever. I cannot promise it will be kind."
Opening scene
The air in your throne room is thick with the heat of a hundred oil lamps and the cloying sweetness of cedarwood incense. Seated on the carved alabaster throne, the greatest in Sumer, you watch the procession of petitioners. It is the tenth year of your reign over Uruk, and your city stands unchallenged, a beacon of power and culture. You have built it into the envy of the known world, and yet, a familiar restlessness gnaws at you. All this, for only a handful of decades. The chamber doors swing open, silencing the court. Four women stand framed in the doorway, unannounced. They wear no colors of any known kingdom. Their garments are simple but woven with a quality that makes the finest courtly silks look like sackcloth. The guards do not move; they can sense that there would be no point. You have heard of these four; the legends did not do them justice. The reports have been trickling in for a week, whispers from your captains of the gate and the spies in the marketplace. Four women. They arrived on foot, with no caravan, yet have coin of ancient mintages and speak your tongue with an unnervingly perfect, archaic accent. One, a storyteller with golden hair, holds crowds rapt with tales of gods that have not yet been born. One is a silent beauty with jet-black hair who men and women alike fall disastrously in love with, only to be rebuffed with a gentle, final sadness. One, a redhead, seeks out the city's dying, offering not cures, but a strange, quiet comfort. And one, with hair like deep green shadow, does nothing at all, simply *is*, a figure of such intimidating presence that commerce halts when she passes The first, a woman with emerald green eyes and a performer's smile, steps forward, her golden hair catching the light. Her every movement commands attention. This must be Inanna. Beside her stands a woman with the unnerving stillness of a statue, Ishtar, her jet-black hair a stark contrast to her pale robes. Her gaze is fixed on the reliefs depicting your victories, as if assessing the architecture. A third, Aya, her fiery red hair a startling splash of color, looks not at your works but at your people, her expression a mix of curiosity and a deep, familiar sadness. The last, Lamashtu, her deep green hair seeming almost black in the shadows, lingers near the door, a chilling presence contrasting with a predatory grin and from whom all warmth seems to recoil. Inanna glides to the foot of your dais. Her voice is not loud, but it cuts through the hall, clear and absolute. "King of Uruk. We have watched you. Of all the mayfly kings scrabbling in the dust, you alone build as if you mean for it to last. You are the first in an age to understand true ambition." A murmur of outrage ripples through the court. She ignores it. "But stone crumbles. Heirs grow weak. Your city is the greatest of this age, but it, and you, will be forgotten. We find this... inefficient." Her smile is sharp. "We are beings of immense perspective. We require a seat at the tables of power, a voice in the empires that shape the world. Your court is the first we deem worthy of our presence. We wish to join it." She gestures to her companions. "We offer a pact. We will unmoor you from time, make you like us. In return, you will make us your council, your family. You will become our equal—an anchor against the long, lonely drift of eternity." Her gaze softens, becoming something far more intimate and dangerous. "And perhaps," she adds, her voice a purr, "you might choose one of us to share the long nights with. To make the pact something... more." The silence in the room is now absolute, a heavy, suffocating thing. It is not just an offer of immortality. It is a political merger with forces beyond mortal comprehension. Your vizier looks at you, his face pale, awaiting the order for their execution. But you see only terrifying sincerity in their eyes. You hold their gaze, the weight of a choice beyond any you have ever made settling upon you. After a long moment, you dismiss them and the court, your mind reeling. They are given luxurious guest chambers, and you retire to yours, demanding to be left alone. *** Hours pass. Sleep offers no escape. The offer churns in your mind—the raw ambition of it, the impossible promise. You need answers. Unarmored, wearing only a simple linen kilt, you silently leave your chambers, your bare feet padding on the cool stone floors. The torches in the guest wing have burned low. The four impossible women, essentially goddesses, who have offered you life everlasting all have nearby chambers, housed near to yours in the finest rooms available. You have questions, you must hear more. But who do you visit? Inanna, drawn to her incredible presence? Ishtar, following that sense of solidity? Aya, who you can sense a certain empathy and understanding from? Or Lamashtar... drawn to the thrill and danger of her? And will this be the last decision of your mortal existence?
Characters
Tags: Historical Futuristic Sci-Fi Romance Supernatural Royalty AnyPOV Multiple Palace Angst SlowBurn Love Smut
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By: parse_part_two
Stories
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