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The Sugar Cube Fort	By : sashocirrione Category: Death Note > Het-Male/Female Views: 2334 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 24
- 25
- 26
A/N (Author's Note):
Another little warning for those who are sensitive about rape. This chapter contains a non-detailed rape.
CHAPTER 25: WAR PRIESTESS
Her name wasn't Rem. It was the Scythian word for "Four." She was the fourth child produced by her parents, and the only one who ever lived past age seven. She was precious to her parents. She was especially precious to her father after her mother died. Rem's father never took another wife, knowing how much stepmothers usually abused children other than their own.
Instead, he satisfied himself with a string of meaningless lovers from the settled villages his tribe ruled over, a different one for each seasonal stop on their migration route. Meanwhile, Rem was elevated to a co-head of the household, put in charge of many servants and with two entire flocks of goats in her name, so that if her father died, Rem would be assured of earning a living even if her father's brother took most of her inheritance.
It was the old tales, a mixture of Scythian legend and history, that influenced Rem into keeping the scroll when she found it instead of passing it on to some leader of the tribe. She'd always been interested in those stories, told only by the most prestigious storytellers, because it was history, it really happened, and you couldn't let just anyone repeat it or the information might decay over time. The brave warriors of ancient Scythian history were mostly 13-year-old girls, and Rem was always fascinated by the thought of it, girls just like her striking terror into opposing armies and slaughtering vast numbers of soldiers.
The storytellers sat around huge bonfires at important festivals and told her about the glory days of Scythia, before the rest of the world bred larger, stronger horses that could easily carry grown men. In the glory days, the most terrifying sight in the world was a nude 13-year-old girl clinging to the back of a half-wild pony, her bow drawn and pointed. Mounted, highly mobile archers were an incredible threat to foot soldiers. Boys were heavier and made the small horses less agile, so it was almost exclusively girls who were used. And, in those days, nudity or near-nudity were both quite common in war, especially among barbaric tribes who had no effective armor and needed as much mobility as possible.
Foreigners could not believe that children, girls no less, could decimate their armies so ruthlessly, so they spread stories about the Scythian mounted archers. They were not human. They were sprites or demons. They were soul-eating things that merely looked like human children. That was why their faces were always so expressionless when they killed. The Scythians encouraged these tales. The longer it took for others to copy their methods, the better off they would be.
And, the girls spent their fighting time slipping in and out of cover on the outskirts of armies, taking down opponent after opponent with sure, long-distance strikes, often clinging to the opposite sides of their horses, using the animals as mobile cover, with only one arm, the bow, and the top of their head peeking out. Armies were known to panic and fall into chaos at the appearance of just a few dozen of these girls silently killing from the outskirts. Their careers only lasted a year or two. By fifteen, if not sooner, the girls were too heavy to be optimum warriors.
When Rem found the scroll, she thought she knew what it was. It was a piece of writing, a rare object, and could surely be sold. There was not much writing inside. Even if for some reason the contents were worthless, the paper was valuable. Scribes would spend months carefully scraping ink off of old scrolls in order to reuse them. But, before she even got the scroll home, a god of death had appeared to her and told her its true purpose. Bribank was his name.
Rem had been intrigued by the possibility of following in the footsteps of the girl warriors she was always hearing about, the ones who no longer existed. But, she couldn't read or write. There was no way to use the scroll. Then Bribank told her about the deal. She could trade away half her remaining lifespan for the ability to see people's names floating above their heads. She just had to copy down the marks she saw in the first row. The bottom row would be their lifespans.
Rem agreed. It was a dangerous world she lived in. Her tribe of nomads ruled a long, narrow mountain valley, dominating and receiving tribute from all the settled villages within it as they slowly moved up and down its length with the seasons, following the freshest pastures.
But, their livelihood and safety were not contained just within that valley. There was always the next valley over, and the valley beyond that, and the flat lands, both desert and plain, beyond the mountains, and all of these places held warlike people who hoped to gain more resources. Each tribe, each nation, each empire, fiercely struggling. War was a constant; peace was considered to be an abnormality. If you did not conquer your neighbors, it was likely they would conquer you. Striking first was self-defense, and even other Scythian tribes were dangerous.
Rem was thirteen when she made the deal. Immediately, her vision sharpened. Bribank told her that was a side effect of shinigami eyes. The user received perfect vision. When she got home, she saw every person with marks above their heads. She kept the scroll secret from everyone except her father. When Rem explained everything to him and let him touch the scroll and see Bribank, her father nodded solemnly and said, "Four, you have been chosen by the gods. A god stands by you at all times. Our tribe has been blessed."
Rem's father arranged for Rem to test the scroll, by taking her to see some prisoners of war. Three of the men died soon after Rem wrote down their names, but the fourth lived. Bribank pointed out that there was a tiny difference between the way she'd written the man's name and the way it appeared. Rem tried again, and this time the man died. She'd have to be careful and copy down everything exactly.
Soon, Rem had been introduced as a war priestess to all the leaders of her tribe. A god had revealed himself to her. She was his mouthpiece, and they sacrificed the most succulent fruits to him, some even imported from far places, arriving packed deep within wagons filled with alternating layers of straw and half-melted glacier ice. Bribank was particularly pleased with figs, even though most of them arrived as dried lumps, and he went absolutely insane over pomegranates.
Rem's tribe arranged for her to appear on the edges of battlefields, well-hidden and well-protected. Like the 13-year-old Scythian girl warriors of the past, she spread a terrifying trail of destruction among her enemies. At least half the effect was due to the fear alone. With an unseen attacker who killed without spilling a single drop of blood pulling down one soldier after another, armies more quickly went into disarray and gave up.
It was possible to sometimes avert war altogether by killing off opposing leaders the moment they tried anything, but it could be quite difficult to get close enough to see their faces. The missions to do so were exciting but dangerous, and Rem's tribe considered her too precious to send her out that way very often.
Within a year, Rem's tribe ruled not just their own mountain valley, but also the valleys on either side, creating a nice safe buffer zone. Prosperity was at an all-time high, with even the poorest people eating every single day and wearing warm clothing instead of tattered rags. Rem had never seen so many surviving babies. Their mothers were well-fed and had abundant milk. The goats and cattle were so numerous that they had to cut down trees to create new pastures.
But, their tiny little kingdom was now large enough and prosperous enough to draw attention from similar tiny kingdoms that had never paid much attention to them before. The wars, which Rem had thought would go away forever, simply continued. That was when Rem decided she needed to learn to read. If she could write down the details of death, she could gain more power than simply killing. She could control the course of destiny.
Rem's father bought a Greek slave, a boy only two years older than her, to be her tutor. He didn't look anything like a Scythian slave, and he didn't act like a slave either. He was clean, haughty, and extremely well-educated, speaking five languages fluently and telling Rem all sorts of things she'd never heard before, about history, and religion, and far-off places. His body was slender and toned, and he spent a lot of time applying oil to his skin and hair. His skin was just a few shades darker than Rem's own, and his eyes always seemed to be laughing.
The first time he saw Rem, he said, in her own language with only the slightest hint of an accent, "I truly am among foreign devils. Hair like fire and eyes like the sky. My clan kills demons like that whenever women spawn them. Real humans have brown eyes and hair that is either black or brown."
And, they let him keep that impression. To him, Rem was a non-human, one of the war demons of the Scythian past returned for a few more games. He was never told how Rem really killed. Only a few within her own tribe were even privileged with that information. Rem's tutor was kept in shackles and watched by bodyguards at all times. He was a foreigner, and he might escape with information, however partial, about the war priestess, the girl who must be protected at all costs.
Rem was immensely intrigued with him. He was just so unlike every other male she'd ever met, and, considering his situation, he was entirely brave and fearless. She loved talking to him, being taught by him, and she often stayed up late, huddled with him over oil lamps as the bodyguards nodded off to sleep, as he showed her the right marks and she practiced over and over, scratching them onto scraps of bark. Sometimes when their hands touched accidentally, she felt a kind of spark, a tingling, and she wanted to touch him more.
But, she never did. She was a war priestess, but she couldn't do whatever she wanted. He was still an immensely dangerous foreigner, and, even in the best case, any children produced would face horrible lives once their parents were gone. Racially mixed people were always the first to be suspected in cases of treachery, and it was common, when a war started, to simply slaughter all such people out of hand to avoid problems later. No, their children would only have halfway-decent lives as long as their parents were there to protect them, and after that the children would probably be stripped of their property and, at best, sold into slavery. So, Rem thought about her tutor, but she didn't really touch him, just a few accidental brushes that made her heart beat so much faster. She held herself back. And he didn't touch her, because he knew his hand would get chopped off if he tried anything.
It took two years for the Greek slave to teach Rem reading and writing, and her control over her enemies became very precise. She experimented, and discovered you couldn't control the actions of opposing leaders in such a way as to cause more deaths than would have happened anyway. But, you could make them give orders that would breed mistrust, completely demoralize the army under them, and cause massive desertions. In some ways, Rem supposed she was actually saving lives. Soldiers who ran off and managed to avoid the execution squads searching for deserters probably ended up alive. And, when huge amounts of soldiers deserted all at once, the execution squads were overwhelmed and often deserted as well.
But then, after it became clear that Rem's power had increased as much as it could and she wasn't adding any more tricks to her repertoire, Rem's father acted. Rem came home one day to see her tutor sitting on the floor next to her father, without any shackles or bodyguards. Rem could see an unfocused expression in the teenager's eyes.
Rem said, "What did you do?"
Rem's father simply said, "Poison."
Rem walked over to her tutor and gathered the man in her arms, hugging him gently. She said, "I'm sorry."
His arms snaked around her back. Breathing warmly against her ear, he said, "My beautiful little demon. I knew this would happen. I wish it could have lasted a bit longer. I wish I could have tasted you."
Rem cried in his arms and held him as he became weaker. She was petting his back as his breathing stopped, and then clinging to his warm body as it gradually became cold. Her father had to pry her away or she would have stayed like that for hours.
Rem cornered Bribank privately later, and asked him if there was a way to revive the dead. If so, she would revive her tutor and help him escape back to his own people, even if she had to pay for it with more years of her own lifespan. But, no, there was no way. Death was final, and Bribank wasn't even sure if there was anything after death. Rem was shocked to her core. Shouldn't gods know about something like that? What kind of god was Bribank?
After that, Rem really believed in the ruthlessness of the world even more. It wasn't a fair place, and you had to strike at your enemies hard and fast. The protective buffer zone around her mountain valley grew, as more and more Scythian tribes were conquered by her own, and her tribe even conquered a few little kingdoms of foreigners. But, as always, strife bred strife and there was no true rest, no true safety, even though the prosperity was abundant around Rem, with an entire generation of plump, healthy young children growing up and the elderly leading lives of ease and more forests cut down so there was grazing room for the ever-increasing vast herds.
Rumors of Rem, legends of her, were abundant, and assassins came for her frequently. They rarely got far. But, other threats were moving as well. People were beginning to realize that she couldn't kill without a face. Soldiers with helmets that covered nearly their entire face were immune to Rem, and there were also new intrigues springing up, using proxy leaders and manipulating information.
People were learning that they could keep Rem from causing trouble if she thought someone other than the true leader was in charge. She often wasted her time causing silly, demoralizing behavior in one guy while a different guy actually issued commands to the troops. The two strategies of hiding faces and controlling information were both incredibly devastating to Rem's power.
Then, one of the assassins actually reached Rem, sneaking up on her during a battle, killing all her guards. He was badly injured, crawling toward her as she tried to use a sword to slash off the cloth covering his face. Later, she wanted to kick herself when she realized that she should have used that same sword to stab him in the face. It was just that she'd gotten so used to using her power to kill instead of using physical weapons.
It worked; the fabric was ripped free, and she got a glimpse of his frightened face. One look, and she had his name and was scrambling for the scroll and her pen. She also knew from that look that the assassin was sure he was facing a non-human, one of the demons of legend. It was written all over his face. He was terribly frightened of her, more than anyone should be of another human, even one with special powers. Perhaps that was why, when he slashed at her with his own sword, he took out one eye instead of going for her throat. He had just raised the sword and aimed at the other eye when his heart attack hit him and the sword fell from his fingers. Rem watching him twitching, smiled down at him, and then stepped on his throat.
Even with one eye, she could still kill just as well as before. Bribank told her that as long as she had ownership of the scroll and any lifespan left, she would never need to be blind even if someone got her other eye. If she gave up the shinigami vision and made the deal a second time, her lifespan would be halved yet again, but her eyes would grow back. The shinigami eye deal always included perfect vision. This knowledge gave her bravery.
But, her power was faltering in other ways. Her enemies were learning too much about how to counter it, continually picking at Rem's weak points. She developed a vast network of spies to try to overcome the information flow problems, but it was only a partial help. Keeping her position, keeping her tribe safe and prosperous, was a constant struggle.
Then, when Rem was 25 years old, the Persian army began advancing in her direction, swallowing up little kingdoms like hers as if they were nothing. She managed to slow the advance with quite a few clever tricks, but that only seemed to focus their attention on her more. A huge branch of the army broke off from the main force and headed directly for Rem's valley, and no matter what she tried, nothing stopped them.
Rem retreated up the valley with her tribe and masses of displaced refugees from the settled villages, staying just ahead of the slaughter, hearing distant screams echoing in the clear, sound-carrying mountain air, seeing the rising smoke of everything burned to the ground. She killed again and again before each retreat, but it never helped.
Rem was always the one who was best-hidden, best protected as others gave their lives for her. Her people knew she was their best chance at survival, so they had no qualms about protecting her, but she could see the betrayal in their faces. Many had lost faith in their religion. They keened to their gods in sobbing prayers when they thought she couldn't hear, asking why the blessing had been taken away, asking why, if the blessing had not been taken away, one of the gods still stood beside the war priestess. Had the gods abandoned them, or not? It was all so unclear.
Bribank only grinned. Rem begged him for help. He could go to the army and kill them all if he pleased. She promised mountains of fruit, vast expeditions to bring back more pomegranates than he could ever eat. But, he refused. He was her god, she was his priestess, but he refused to help. He said she had to get out of this problem herself. If the power he had lent her wasn't good enough, she would die along with all her people.
And, that is what happened. Everyone Rem knew was slaughtered except for a small group of people, mostly some of the minor leaders and their grown children. Rem's father was dead, and so were most of the important leaders. It was not a battle any more, but an attempt at escape. If they could just make it over a certain mountain pass they could see in the distance, even though it was choked with snow, they could hide and create a new life. With the power of the scroll, they could quickly create riches wherever they went; they just had to escape from the army first.
The army caught up to them in the middle of an alpine pasture, where a few lost, confused goats were wandering around and bleating plaintively. With a flurry of launched arrows, everyone was dead except for Rem. She ran for the edge of the forest, though she had little hope.
Rem said, "Bribank, do you want to start again somewhere else? We can do it again. I know you won't kill for me, but just distract those behind me so I can get away, or pick me up and fly to a safe place."
Bribank said nothing. Rem glanced behind her. They were advancing too quickly. With a hidden movement and a fake stumble, Rem shoved the scroll under a bush. She didn't want them to get it, and, if by chance she lived, she could come back and retrieve it. Then she put everything she had into running, running for the forest, her heart about to burst from the exertion. Vaguely, she remembered that this pasture was one of the new ones created for their larger flocks of goats. If not for her own actions of having so many trees cut down, she would already be in the forest.
She was almost within reaching distance of the first trees when several strong arms caught her all at once. Men quickly surrounded her on every side and completely immobilized her, but they didn't harm her. All their faces were covered. She tried to speak to those around her, but they only replied in a language she couldn't understand. They laughed among themselves as they talked to each other, their gestures crude. Rem began to get very, very frightened of what they might do.
Then a tall man with higher-quality armor came forward and, in her own language, he said, "Ah, so we have captured the demon at last. It does indeed look exactly like a young woman. From now on, demon, your power will be used for our empire. We will crush the Scythians and many others, creating a glory like nothing the world has ever known. Everyone else will be dead, or our slaves."
Rem tried to decide what to do. If she played along with this man, perhaps she could create a situation where she could escape. But, after that, she would have to flee very far. Her description would be everywhere, and the Persians would surely offer an immense reward for her capture. But, if she killed anyone for this man, he would probably figure out how her power worked and kill her, becoming the owner of her scroll. Playing along with her captor was extremely risky, and would only work if she could withhold information in exactly the right way until the moment for escape presented itself.
Rem said, "You have indeed gained ownership of me, human. But my power is limited. I have killed so many humans recently that I cannot kill for a time. Also, I am the sort of demon who is attached to a place. I cannot kill unless I am within my home valley when I use my power."
The man's face was covered, so Rem couldn't judge his facial expression. Did he believe her or not?
The man said, "You won't be spared the standard treatment for prisoners. You must understand that you are crushed, that we own you, that you have no will. When you understand that completely, then we will know that everything you tell us is the truth."
Rem was terribly frightened. She saw the men forming a line with her at the head of it as men at either side of her forced her to the ground, holding her arms and legs, pinning her securely. She knew what standard treatment for prisoners was. They wouldn't let her up until they were sure she was completely broken, an obedient mental wreck.
It wasn't until the third man entered her that she belatedly remembered her last option, the service she should have asked Bribank to do before the first rape even started.
Rem screamed, "Kill me! Kill me, Bribank!"
And, forty seconds later, she felt her heart stop.
A/N (Author's Note):
Poor Rem. I made her history as a human death note user kind of like Light's is in canon: someone trying to use violent slaughters to create a utopia, succeeding partly but never really reaching the goal, having horrible things happen along the way (including the death of a comrade that caused a hardening of the emotions afterwards) and then being cornered by enemies and experiencing a pathetic death.
Oh, and the idea that the death note would be a scroll in olden days instead of a notebook is something that the canon writer has suggested in interviews but obviously never explored in canon.
Okay, one more chapter to go!
The will-L-ever-figure-out-Rem-is-inside-his-body cliffhanger will be answered, and a bunch of other things will happen that my readers may have thought I'd forgotten about - such as the chainsaw-beheading scene. Yes, I haven't forgotten that stuff!
Also, L still hasn't gotten to the real consequences of not being human. Just like Nu said, those effects take many years to show up. L isn't quite there yet, but he will be (and I guess Gerard and Dolores will be too if they live long enough, but they're not part of the storyline anymore, so who cares?).
- 24
- 25
- 26
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The Sugar Cube Fort