A Petition

“Father!” Lust’s voice cut into the silence of the space, feeling like an affront to the placidity, even to the speaker. The room was dark, the stars asleep, yet she knew that her Father was present. Justice had not robbed her of that.

“What is this?” The impossibly deep voice rumbled, “The shell of my daughter returns to me. Who has emptied you of your kingdom?”

Lust took a step forward and tripped on something unseen, falling to her hands and knees.

The sky came alive, and the room gleamed in her Father’s majesty.

“Why do you bow?” He asked, standing before her, “I sense much change in you, a shift.” His eyes darted away, then, “Something is amiss. What has transpired?”

“I am beset by Luck,” the immortal complained at her Father’s feet, “At every turn she feasts on my misfortune. And Justice,” she spit after saying her sister’s name, “has performed an egregious act.”

Her Father’s eyes returned to her, the weight of his gaze causing her to catch her breath.

“I can see,” and he could, she could tell, “an even trade, measured well, and within the prescripts,” his bushy eyebrows twitched, “and yet…”

“She cannot be allowed to…”

Lust’s Father waved a hand and she was silenced. He would not hear her petition, not while he was thinking. The power of his thought dwarfed every power in creation, and Lust dared not utter a sound lest she be pulled into his stream of conscious.

“Your kingdom belongs to someone else,” he said, his voice shaking the universe, “the mortal under your sister Justice’s eye. It is his by right.”

Lust opened her mouth, but could not disagree.

“But it is empty, unguided. A mortal cannot hope to shape the yearnings of the world. It would destroy him.”

Lust’s father snapped his finger with the sound of a thousand thunderbolts. Beside her appeared two other sisters, Desire, face bloody and exhausted, and Luck, her eyes closed, a satisfied smile on her face.

“Yes!” The gaunt sister shouted, “your misfortune is exquisite! Give me more!”

“Daughter,” his voice lifted the avatar of fortune off her feet, “release your hold on your sisters and disperse their unbalanced luck. It is a burden they may have earned, but should not carry.”

“But Father,” she whined.

“Now.”

A wave of a bony hand and both Lust and Desire felt the weight of bad luck vanish from their souls.

“Thank-you, Father,” Lust said, still on her knees.

“You should not thank me yet,” he said, mischief in his rumbling voice, “things can’t stand as they are. Your kingdoms must be cared for. Creation will suffer if left in its current state.”

“Then you will intervene?” Desire rasped.

“No,” he said with finality, “the mortal has his rule by right. But in order to restore balance, you will return to your role, but not as it was. Now will have to serve.”