Ereshkigal, queen of Irkalla (allatu) wrote in history_dot_com, @ 2014-12-28 17:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~ereshkigal, ~nergal |
Six [Ancient Times] (tag: Nergal)
Note: Immediately after this thread.
Ereshkigal was livid. She was so angry that she couldn't eat and didn't sleep. There were dark circles beneath her eyes and her lips were compressed in a hard line. Servants scuttled around the corners of rooms to avoid her gaze and attention, because there was nothing soft or winning about the Queen of Irkalla these days.
He'd left. She still couldn't believe he'd actually left. There had been some conversation, but she'd thought he'd been joking. Surely he knew that she could not leave the underworld, so his suggestion that he was going to take her with him was one she'd dismissed with a laugh. And she'd told him, more than once, that if he wanted her, he would have to stay with her. Then he would laugh, and they would make love again.
Six days. Six nights. They had barely left the bed in that time, focused totally on one another. So she'd assumed that he had felt as she did. That the connection went both ways. To find out that he'd left on the seventh morning, before dawn, sneaking out like a thief, was an absolute shock to her system. She cried out in dismay, and nearly fainted. Though she retained her senses, her legs buckled beneath her and she fell to the ground. It took several moments before she could pull herself together and return to her throne.
Then the tears came. They came with a shrieking intensity that was frightening to all who heard it. Ereshkigal screamed and sobbed and demanded the return of the man who had made her heart and body sing. It was then that her son and vizier, Namtar, stepped forward and offered to retrieve Nergal. Her beloved son who couldn't stand the sight of his mother so heartbroken, it was he that made her start thinking. And planning.
As loudly as she protested in Irkalla, no one was there to hear but her children and her servants. No, those that needed to hear were in the Heavens Above. Since she could not go there and make her accusations in person, she would have to send someone. So she would send Namtar, who was angry and worried on her behalf, and would therefore relay her message faithfully and with the intent in which it was given.
Carefully, she crafted her message. She began with a reminder of kinship, and that she was owed loyalty for that. She included a statement of what she had lost, so they would know her desires were not small or fleeting. She made certain to lay the blame at their feet, as they had been the ones that sent Nergal in the first place. And then she made her threats. She knew they would work, as they had worked for Inanna. If those in the Heights Above would give in to a spoiled child throwing a temper tantrum for such intimidation, surely they would do so for a steely-willed goddess fully intent and able to carry them out.
When she was finished, she told Namtar exactly what to say. To Anu, Enlil and Ea he was to say that ever since she was a child and daughter, she hadn't played with other girls or romped with other children. That god they had sent to her, who had lain with her and left her, they were to send again so that he could spend another night with her. Because she had been wronged and was now unclean, she would not be able to judge the dead, as her duty. Furthermore, if they did not send Nergal to her, she would raise up the dead and they would eat the living, until the dead outnumbered the living.
After her son repeated the words back to her, Ereshkigal sent him on his way. It would take some time for him to ascend the staircase to heaven, and more then to find Nergal, but she was certain that her family would not let her be so dishonored. The Beast of Sumer would be returned to her. She settled upon her throne, and did her best to recall all that was wrong with the lover that had abandoned her. She tried to cling to the idea that his arrogance and aggressiveness was off-putting, but memories of their time together kept softening her resolve. She would not, however, relinquish her anger. Livid was better than heartbroken.