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The Subjective Nature of Justice, and Also Deliciousness

_ By Goldeneye _

A commission for Aliclan

The Empire of Seraphia had to be recognised for what it was, argued the scholar Parocles in his dissertation _Deum Natum_an: an entirely new system of government. To merely describe it as an tyranny, or a theocracy, was to miss out on the unique nature of the tyrant, or the religion. In the long and somewhat brutal history of the world, many similar civilisations had risen and fallen (and a lot of them quite recently to this new one), but they had been ruled over by simple men and women with mere political power - a flimsy, intangible thing. Instead, the esteemed scholar claimed, Seraphia must be recognised as a new form of dictatorship, for it was one which the head of state not only held absolute political power, but absolute power in every other regard.

He called it a deiocracy. One nation under one, extremely active, god.

There were several major differences in this god's politics as a result of the immense power he wielded. The Emperor did not need to worry about heirs to carry on his line, as he was immortal and would not give up control of his empire until the sun fell from the sky. Intrigue at court to control the decisions of his Divinity was nigh impossible, as he saw everyone's ulterior motives sitting in their minds plain as day. The same with spies - although at least two dozen had to vanish into the god-being's mighty form before the other nations got the message - and with corruption. International diplomacy became rather more difficult, since the Emperor's patience was generally fairly short, but he didn't seem to mind the various short-lived wars which sprung up as a result, ending inevitably with an expanded empire and an expanded stomach pressing against the straps of the his magnificent battle plate.

However, in many cases things went on as they would normally. The Emperor was far too busy to concern himself with the day-to-day running of his palace, or with keeping his Empire's ever-growing population fed, housed and safe. But he did not tolerate failure by the ranks of civil servants who took on the responsibility. In his eyes, he explained playfully, all were equal, rich or poor, male or female or more, noble or peasant: for all were but nothing next to him. Anyone who upset this order would be reminded of where they stood in very, very definite terms.

As a result of this, as Wreathed Judge Milo Grey stepped out of the litter into the hot desert sun, blinking at the sudden light, he found he was shivering slightly. His official robes, silver silk trimmed with leaves of bronze, would normally feel light enough to allow him to withstand the heat, but today the flowing material seemed to hang on him like iron chains. He managed to keep his dignity, at least, standing calm and sombre but for a nervous twitch of the tail. Milo was a feline, a housecat with fur the deep navy of the night sky and bright, round eyes of an even bluer hue. He was twenty seven years of age, and looked even younger, a slight, youthful figure leading to many officials to mistake him for an usher or underling. He'd grown used to it by now, even laughed at it.

Right now he didn't feel very much like laughing, so instead he swallowed and began walking up the steps. The Imperial Palace loomed above, an edifice which reflected its master in every way. It was quite possibly the largest building on the planet, a sprawling, spiralling array of towers, bridges and cathedral-like halls which somehow retained a kind of elegant symmetry. It wasn't totally clear how it had been built. The days of Goldeneye's ascension to his eternal throne hadn't been that long ago but already they were half-shrouded by myths. Not surprising considering their subject matter.

Up the wide, wide steps for a half a hundred feet, feeling the silent gazes of the Immortals, strange, merciless figures in all-enclosing bronze armour, flanking each end of each step as they watched him. Towards the threshold of the great open bronze doors, depicting in relief two vast Emperors standing tall on hind legs, claws spread regally, and here he was. The open archway led straight to the Imperial Palace's entrance Atrium. It was the largest room he had ever stood in in his life, an expanse of pale smooth stone polished to perfect smoothness and spreading out for a hundred feet in every direction. And this was merely the entrance hall.

He stood in the doorway, shivering a little, and checked the summons for the dozenth time. Yes, it definitely required him to go in via the front door. The analytical part of his mind noted that this was part of a simple intimidation tactic: to overwhelm him with a sense of the Emperor's great power and wealth. The rest of his mind conceded, apprehensively, that it was working very, very well.

But he was an Wreathed Judge, chosen to represent his Divinity's unyielding will. He had followed his duties and given fairness and justice to all. He had never so much as dreamed of taking bribes or performing favouring anyone, regardless of status or power. He had no reason whatsoever to be afraid, surely.

And yet he was. Milo had never met the Emperor, but it was clear from what was known of him that he did not tolerate any failings to live up to standard.

He swallowed, composed himself, and entered.

Milo's placement had been in the courthouse towards the east, in the merchant's quarter. He'd trained in the Imperial University, and received his wreath from the hands of an Immortal, rather than the Emperor himself. He'd never actually seen inside the palace yet, and so this was... quite an experience. A hall cut from glass-smooth sandy stone, flooded with sunlight from golden windows three hundred paces high. Balconies lined the walls, and pillars of bronze as thick as three men were tall supported the arching, cathedral-like roof. And this was just the entrance hall.

The cat's big blue eyes followed the pillar to the ceiling, goggling at their sheer scale. Far above, a mural depicted a boiling mass of fire streaking down towards the viewer, with the faintest indications of leonine shape amidst the flames. The weight of the Emperor's power hung over their heads.

Milo gazed up at it for almost a minute before he realised he was being spoken to. He jumped slightly at the quiet cough, tearing his eyes away to see a duo of palace attendants standing at his side: a slender female lizard of some species he didn't recognise and an dark-feathered, male osprey. Both wore little but simple silk loincloths and leather collars, marking them out as property of the Emperor which was currently being used by him personally, rather than simply property, like Milo and every other inhabitant of Seraphia, which had been trusted to take care of itself for his pleasure. Fairly little was left to the imagination, and Milo restrained his flush as he spoke to them again. "I... I'm sorry?"

"You're Wreathed Judge Milo Grau, yes?" the osprey repeated, smiling a little at the sides of his beak. "We're to bring you to the Emperor's personal receiving chambe-"

He froze, and his smile vanished instantly. The lizard beside him swallowed and straightened noticeably, obviously aware of the meaning of this even if Milo was not. The pause lasted only a second, and then whatever it was had gone. The bird shook his feathers a little and smiled again, his sharp yellow eyes betraying a trace of fear. "Sorry, sir. Right this way."

They turned and set off, walking towards one of the smaller doors at the side, and Milo followed, determinedly keeping his head held high. Internally, meanwhile, he tried to calm the fear churning inside. Personal receiving chambers? Personal? The summons hadn't mentioned him actually meeting with the Emperor himself!

It must just be a term, surely. He'd be meeting with a secretary or similar. Nothing would warrant actually meeting the Emperor. Even if he had been accused of murdering half the jury or something, he'd be dealt with by administration, not the head of state.

He dismissed the thoughts, or tried to, as the two slaves ahead led him down some stairs, along a series of seemingly endless corridors, and to a large set of bronze doors guarded, as ever, by two silent Immortals. They waited for a few minutes, during which Milo tried to smooth the fur on his ears and clean his whiskers - embarrassingly animalistic behaviour, but he wanted to look as neat as he possibly could - and then the osprey gave another slight intake of breath, and nodded. He could go in now.

The doors creaked open and Milo took a breath and slipped in, to face destiny. Stairs upwards, into somewhere filled with light. He squinted and stumbled up the steps, cat eyes unused to such sudden, blinding brightness. And then...

And then...

A chuckle ran around the gallery as the feline's mouth fell slightly open, his mask of judicial calm lost in the bewildering, terrifying realisation of where he really was. A hall so vast it made the entrance look like a broom closet, lined not with pillars but with shining silver and bronze statues of the Emperor himself, almost a thousand feet tall and standing rampant to bear the weight of the ceiling far, far above. He stood in the centre of an avenue fifty paces across, paved with what appeared to be genuine gold. On either side, between the vast feline hindpaws of the mighty statues, an array of marble seats lined the sides. Barely one in ten was filled, and yet there were still more than a hundred pairs of eyes watching him. He recognised high ranking officials, foreign diplomats, a good few creatures which he didn't even recognise the species of. The Emperor's Royal Court, eyes all fixed unmercifully upon him.

The other inhabitant of the room waited, quite patiently, for Milo to turn to see him. He sat sprawled comfortably upon the specially adapted throne, which was more a raised dais with armrests of beaten gold. Compared to the sheer size of this room and everything in it, any ruler should have seemed dwarfed by his decorations, compensating for their own weakness with the oversized depictions.

But not this one. Emperor Goldeneye, the Silver Summer, the First and Eternal, somehow carried a sheer presence which outshone any statue. It was as if you were seeing a star in the night sky, and though it seemed of comprehendible size and magnitude the truth was you simply weren't looking at it properly, for in reality it was vast beyond words. The gryphon lounged elegantly on his great flank, watching his new arrival unblinkingly. Even several hundred feet away, Milo could already tell that the god-gryphon would have stood nearly three times his height, and far, far longer and wider. Sleek, leonine hindquarters merged with a chest bound with flying muscles to power the cloak of silver feathered wings folded snugly against his side, and then avian forelegs leading to grey-scaled claws, cruelly taloned and strong enough to tear stone. His eyes, one purple and one gold as the sun, narrowed just a little in amusement, and he called out to the stunned feline in a voice which carried easily across the hall.

"Milo Grey. Wreathed Judge, ordained to act with the authority of your owner and Emperor... welcome to my court. I've rather been looking forward to meeting you."

Behind Milo, the hidden door, allowing him to walk straight into the middle of the throne room without even realising slid slowly closed again. The click echoed in the silence which had fallen.

Emperor Goldeneye watched for a few more seconds with a slow, spreading smile before he spoke again. "You may approach. Unless you need some help walking?"

Not a single feather moved, but suddenly Milo's legs were no longer Milo's. He started, giving a small mew as, without his own thoughts, his body took one step forward, then another, drawing him closer to the Emperor's divine presence. Telepathic control. The final and surest proof, Goldeneye had proclaimed at his coronation many years ago, of his unquestionable ownership of all things. His raw strength alone was enough to force others to do his will or face certain, painful death, but with this power the choice was removed completely. All were made his. The experience was nothing short of terrifying, and when, an instant later, he was released again, Milo nearly fell over, his dignified mask cracking sharply. The Emperor smirked.

But he had done nothing wrong and he would not be intimidated. Milo swallowed, and straightened his back. "N-no, your majesty. I'm fine." Carefully, he began to walk down the long avenue, aware at every step of the many eyes on him - although he didn't dare break the gaze of the two which lay straight ahead.

The journey seemed to take a long time, and the Emperor didn't seem to blink much. He simply watched, smiling slightly, as Milo drew to the edge of the raised golden dais and bowed to his knees. There was a moment of tense silence. Milo broke it, and immediately regretted it.

"Your... your majesty?"

The Emperor looked at him, and this time far more intensely. His gaze had an almost physical weight to it, far stronger than the many other eyes of the court. He smiled. "Ah, yes. The matter at hand. Tell me, Wreathed Judge Milo Grey, do you remember the case you presided over at eleven of the clock in the morning, upon the third day of the month of Feathersong?"

Milo did, and judging from the sudden, slithering sensation in his skull, the Emperor knew that he did. "... of course, your... your majesty..." he said, slowly. "Defendant was one Leshana Kitsune, a foreign citizen accused of breaking the terms of her trader's license by-"

"That's enough." Goldeneye silenced him again. "Unusual surname. I must visit her kind sometime... anyway. Did you notice anything unusual about the case, little Milo?" His voice had become quieter, with a certain silky edge which was extremely unnerving.

"Unusual? I... um..." Desperately he wracked his brains. "She... she claimed innocence, but that's, that's nothing new. We investigated her claim of being set up by a rival merchant, and found no evidence of any wrongdoing on his part. All that was left was the sentencing. As per your laws, your majesty... five years hard labour. Alsar Prison, I believe."

The Emperor nodded. "I see. All according to the rule of law, as set out by me, was it?"

"Y... yes, your majesty." Milo swallowed, resisting the urge to flatten his large ears against his skull.

"With the authority vested upon you to act in my name."

"Yes."

The gryphon blinked once, with reptilian slowness. And then suddenly his great beak spread into a wide, benevolent smile.

"Well then, there's nothing more to do here, is there? I had reason to believe that Miss Leshana was unfairly imprisoned, and wanted to make sure that there was no corruption amongst the ranks of my subordinates. But you're clearly an honest servant of the Empire. Thank you kindly for your time, Judge Grey. You can go now."

There was a moment of silence, and then the ranks of courtiers exploded into hushed whispers and murmurs, evidently as surprised as Milo was. He stood, barely, his legs feeling like wet sand beneath him as he stammered out words. "You... what.... you... really?"

"Of course!" The gryphon's voice was as silky and comforting as the finest feather bed. "I can't ask any more than what you gave me, can I? To expect my judges to be able to see the truth as I do would be simply ridiculous. Run along, good servant. I'll compensate you for your time."

"I... I... see? Th-thank you." He managed to take one step, then another, back towards the doors and freedom and safety to live his life. "Thank you so much y-your majesty. Thank you. Thank you." Milo's eyes were glazed, and he blinked back the tears of relief as he stumbled away, bowing three times over in his haste. Suddenly his robes felt as light and free as air. He remembered reading testimony from prisoners unexpectedly pardoned, and how much brighter the world had seemed, intoxicated by the joy of relief.

And then from behind him came another word.

"Hold on."

Milo froze. The murmuring from the galleries silenced. For a moment, he thought that he was just surprised, but no, he couldn't move at all. Goldeneye's malign influence controlled his very limbs. From behind him, he felt the floor quiver as the emperor stepped down off his throne and began to pad towards him.

"Silly me. So sorry, Milo, but I just remembered something important. Yes, you had nothing but the best of intentions when you sentenced little Leshana. Yes, the fact that she was innocent is something that it'd be ridiculous to expect you to know. Yes, you are blameless."

Milo felt hot breath on the back of his neck. His muscles trembled against the Emperor's iron mental hold. Goldeneye's voice came from just behind him.

"But I. Don't. Care."

With a shock of casual power, he was released, falling to his knees. The murmuring ranks were silent, and Milo tried to scramble up as Goldeneye slowly circled him. The cat's trembling limbs caught in his robes, and he staggered and fell again. His hands flailed, and suddenly, with a brush of air and speed, Goldeneye's beak was there to grab onto. The great shimmering eyes locked with Milo's. Up close, it felt like the gryphon-creature was looking at him through more dimensions than he should have been able to.

The trembles slowly died, Milo's fear overwhelmed by a new kind of paralytic, choking terror which left him limp, dependent on the beak for support. He could barely breathe, could not comprehend anything but the Emperor's bejeweled, alien eyes.

Goldeneye chuckled softly, not blinking. His breath seeped through the cat's robes and left his fur ruffled and hot. "I have to say, little kitten, you look far better like this. Weak and quivery. Just because I've given you authority doesn't mean I wanted you to have dignity."

"I... w... what do y-you want?" Milo could not tear himself away. "I... If she was innocent, can't you just pardon her? Your... your majesty?"

The gryphon rolled his eyes. "Of course I could. I did, in fact, as soon as I found it."

"You d-did? Then I don't understand the-"

"And then," Goldeneye continued, "later that same day in fact, I ate her alive."

Milo opened his mouth, and couldn't really seem to find any words to put in it. He gave a small noise which made the Emperor's eyes glitter with amusement.

"It wasn't even planned. Her name just came up at a public event, and... well, she squirmed for days, but even that wasn't as delicious as the cruel irony of it. The real world has a wonderful habit of accommodating me, really. I've actually theorised that my sheer weight of power actually distorts the fabric of reality around my whims, making things simply go my way even when outside of my considerable control... but that's not related. The point is, this isn't about making sure everyone gets fair treatment. It's about me and all of you subjects of mine. It's about my possessions."

"I... I don't..." Milo's voice finally returned a bit more solidly, albeit still in a weak, bewildered croak. "I don't understand what you want me for. Please, If, if I... I was wrong... it wasn't intentional! _I can't see minds, I can't command the resources of, of an empire! Your laws, _your laws say that I can't be punished for acting as best I could! Surely I... I can have a-at least a second, a second chance..."

Goldeneye flicked his ears lazily, watching him. The cat felt a bit more of his natural acumen returning to him, and he spoke a little stronger.

"I... I mean... legally, in this case we ought to get the defendant released for her innocence. But... that's not really possible. You, you knew she was innocent when you... when you... er..."

The gryphon raised an eyeridge.

"Anyway," Milo said, "you're not interested in her wellbeing, it... it appears. So I just... I don't understand why you're so... so angry with me. Your majesty. I swear, I, I did nothing wrong by your laws and methods. I... I was wrong, but... that's not a crime, is it? Is it? Maybe... maybe you're above the law - I mean, maybe you have... unique status... but... you can't claim I deserve to be punished for this! S-surely! Or at least, that I shouldn't be instantly... that I should have a s-second chance for it!"

Goldeneye watched. Then he laughed again, soft and hot and washing over Milo with each deep, rumbling chuckle. Like waves against a sandy beach the feline's composure and confidence was simply washed away by the second.

The gryphon lifted his head up and away, sending Milo toppling to the ground. "This is," he said loudly, "actually quite a common delusion for those in Milo's position, everyone."

Who... who is he talking to? Weakly, through the dread, Milo remembered the courtiers watching from the galleries. He parted his lips, trying to speak, but all that came out was a kittenish mew of fear.

"I find it's especially popular amongst those high enough to have some authority, but low enough that they don't interact with me at all. They start to misunderstand the purpose of the law which they uphold in my name. Thinking it's in the name of justice and fairness. In the name of good. That I am somehow... "benevolent" in my tyranny."

Distantly, Milo heard the sound of a few voices in mocking laughter.

"Perhaps we should educate him. Milo Gray, I ask that you keep my laws so that you might keep my empire in order, so that my subjects - my possessions - are kept in the best possible state. I do not allow slavery because only I have the right to own anyone - or rather, everyone. I despise corruption because only I have the right to control and destroy the lives of anyone for my own gain. And because my laws are only there to keep you all ripe and tender for me, I don't care about following them myself in the slightest. I'm not simply above the law, Milo. I am the only reason that the law exists."

Milo tried to mumble something, but his words were not even ignored, simply not recognised as existing.

"Is this unfair? Is it unreasonable? Is it against my own laws? Oh, yes. It is. But I liked Leshana, both before and after she slid down my gullet so delightfully. And I would have wanted to meet her when her life wasn't already so full of suffering inflicted by someone else. My prey is mine, and hurting them is mine." He spoke the word with a burning, religious fervour. "All of it mine."

"This... this isn't right, though. P-please, your majesty, I'm sorry, I... I can't... I just wanted to... to help the people of this world... please..."

"The people of this world do not deserve help. They deserve only to make as good a meal for me as they can. That's what you are, little kitten. Helping to season them." Goldeneye leant down, hooking a talon under the hem of the judge's silk robe. "But equally, you are part of the menu."

He ripped the robe open, tearing it straight through with barely a shred of resistance. Milo whimpered, trying to defend his soft slender body from the terrible knife-edge, but it had no interest in his flesh, just his garments. His smallclothes were in rags as well, his body naked and revealed, like a fruit freshly peeled of its rind. The gryphon towered over him, his presence like physical pressure on the little, shaking cat's soul. Milo was trying so, so hard not to think of the very obvious.

"You're... you're nnn... n-not going to..."

"Not saying it?" The gryphon laughed softly. "I will then. I'm going to devour you. Swallow you whole. Every inch. By now, it seems like most of the planet knows about Seraphia and its predatory Emperor... but not a single morsel seems prepared for the actual sensations of it. You've probably sentenced a fair few to the death penalty in your time - or "lunch", as I call it - so I'll be delighted to be able to give you a first hand experience."

Every word struck him down to the bone. Milo gave the weakest, feeblest moan he had ever heard, a sound which could barely come from a living thing. He tried to rise, tried to avert his eyes from Goldeneye's merciless stare, but his body would not respond. The gryphon drew closer, his nares flaring as he drew a deep breath and took in gallons of the feline's scent. His eyes seemed to physically glimmer with hunger. Milo couldn't bear to watch. He managed to wrench his eyes shut. Goldeneye said something, but he was beyond hearing.

...but rather than sudden wet, all-enclosing darkness, he felt the thick bony surface of the gryphon's beak nudging him towards getting up. His eyes fluttered open, locking again with the Emperor's as if drawn by some mad magnet. Goldeneye smiled lazily.

"Well? You're dismissed, I said."

"W...what?"

"Little kitten, I had to rearrange a diplomatic ceremony, three signings of legislation, and a meeting with my architects just to have this five minute meeting with you at such short notice. Do you think I have time to eat you properly right now?" Goldeneye chuckled, nosing his prey back fully onto their feet. "Fair enough, I could do it now. It'd take less than a second. But where's the fun in wasting all your taste like that? No. Milo, I want you to go to my quarters and wait there until I finally finish all this damn Empire-running business and get the chance to properly enjoy my lunch."

Milo blinked. "You... you're going to... what?"

"Come on." Goldeneye clicked his talons, the sound clacking oddly, and out of nowhere the two slaves of before seemed to have drawn up behind him. The osprey and the lizard. He jumped, and backed away - straight into Goldeneye's soft expanse of chestfeathers. The gryphon giggled.

"Don't worry about it. Give him a loincloth... but nothing else. He looks so delectable like that. Milo, I'll be along soon enough. And relax, sweetling... it's not like you have somewhere to get to."

He thrust Milo forwards and began to walk back to his throne, giving the trembling cat a last teasing caress with the fluffy tip of his tail.

"You have the rest of your life, after all."

***

For all his flamboyancy and casual disregard of all laws of decency, morality, and on many occasions physics, the Emperor was actually a fairly private person. He did not generally hold the traditional feasts and banquets of the Royal Seraphian tradition, although that was probably because no-one was very keen to attend a meal with him. He would often vanish completely for days on end, and in some cases entire weeks or months, only returning every few days from out of thin air - literally - for a few minutes to settle vital matters of state and remind his empire of his rule by devouring the nearest unlucky individual. So to see exactly what lay inside his personal chambers was probably supposed to be a rare and glorious privilege.

Milo did not feel this way. He had not spoken much to the two slaves as they escorted him to the Emperor's quarters. The lizard girl had placed a hand on his shoulder in what he thought was a silent, helpless gesture of solidarity, and mercifully, one of them had given him a loincloth. It was as far from clothing as clothing could be, but at least he wasn't totally naked.

He tried to appreciate the kindness of strangers, but found he couldn't think of much at all beyond what was happening right now. It was ridiculous. It was wrong. It was completely insane.

Well, the Emperor had never claimed to be otherwise.

That was the problem. That was where everything Milo stood for, everything he had spent his life learning to argue for, everything he was, simply fell down like a house built on sand. Goldeneye just didn't care. He was not right, he was not fair, he was not good. But he was the god-gryphon Emperor of an empire expanding over its second continent, and that meant he had decided... this.

Milo sat down against the wall, hugging his knees miserably. He sat opposite a strange tapestry, displaying a stylised rendition of a dozen figures he knew nothing of. A creature like the Emperor himself, but in black, a white wolf, or maybe fox, a bird and a mouse, another bird entwined with some kind of snake in deep ocean blue, a silver wolf and rat, one character - or was it two? the boundaries seemed too blurred - in black and white. They seemed locked in some weird dance which might have been fighting or amorous affection. It seemed a lot like the Emperor himself, in fact - inscrutable, unexplainable and completely distant to his suffering.

A few minutes ticked by.

This was insane.

Now he was repeating things he already knew.

Milo stood up, beginning to pace the room. Come on then, he pounded into his brain. You can come up with an argument for anything, can't you! You're a damn Wreathed Judge! Think! THINK! _There has to be something to say. There has to be.. some_thing! Logically in an infinite universe, there must exist some combination of words and action to reach the truth in the situation. To let you go free, or just get a second chance, even. There _has _to be.

But, he argued, first of all this isn't a decision in your hands. You're not the judge here. Nor the jury. Nor the execu... well, anyway. And secondly... every judicial decision you've made you've based upon the law of the land. Law which applies to you, to the accused, to the witnesses, to the prisons, to the entire Empire. To everyone.

Save one.

I'm not simply above the law, Milo. I am the only reason that the law exists.

That was it, then? More than a decade of study, work and passionate perseverance - almost half his life - was simply to do... that? Not to give fairness to the world, not to protect the innocent and punish the guilty, no, his life had simply been a case of keeping the Emperor's "possessions" in line so he could enjoy them at his leisure?

He came to another room, staring at what appeared to be a bed, strewn with thick pillows and blankets - but the ocean of feathers was about the size of a small garden. No. That couldn't be right. Having power did not make Goldeneye right. Justice was an idea, and nothing, not godly strength or tyrannical rule or telepathic ability, could destroy an idea.

That made him feel a little better, but then he realised that he was still going to be swallowed alive, and he felt even worse. Should he be crying, maybe? He didn't feel like crying. He felt far, far too scared for crying. Crying was useless, his body was reasoning. What he needed was a way out of this horrific, fatal situation. It was up to Milo's mind to provide the solution. And oh gods oh gods he couldn't think of anything.

He'd come to a balcony window, the blast of sunlight on the creamy stone stinging his eyes. On the left lay the palace gardens, walled off to the general public, a lush oasis of exotic green in the hot desert sun. On the right lay what looked like to be a delivery area for carts and merchant caravans, and then an open gate out to the city. He could see the shining forms of two Immortals flanking the space, resolute and unmoving.

You could leap onto that wall.

The drop was barely twenty feet. Milo was young, and as agile as any cat, and the Immortals might be guarding the gates, but they weren't likely to look at the tops of the walls. If he just balanced there when he landed, then crawled along to a safe place to get down, he'd be in the city. Away. Safe.

Safe from the mind of a telepath? He stared at it, at the freedom so close, and so distant. Come on. How far would he have to run to stop the Emperor from finding him without lifting a claw?

Oh, and what would Goldeneye do do if he did find him? Eat him? What a horrific fate! Much better to stay here and just suffer the current ordeal, which was... oh yes, being eaten. What had he got to lose by trying something, anything, that had even the slightest chance of success? How could this get worse?

Another part of Milo said something quietly, so quietly that he barely heard it, and had to focus consciously on the unease before he heard it properly. It said it again.

He could make it worse.

The feline leaned against the wall of the balcony, his limbs beginning to shake uncontrollably as the truth of that sentence began, wave-like, to break over him. Of course he could. He could take longer to die. He could hurt more. He could come back just to die again. He could simply never expire at all, living out an endless existence in the deepest, hottest, darkest corner of the gryphon's rapacious digestive tract. Or other things, things outside of sane comprehension. The Emperor's true nature had a thousand theories and a million rumours, and his only certainty was that he was powerful enough to subjugate and control any living creature on this world he had claimed, beyond all hope of resistance. Who know what he would do?

But it was right there in front of him. And as it was, all his life held right now was the certainty of pain and death. How much he received might vary, but the end would be the same. Whereas with flight, there was a chance of life. Maybe small. Maybe not at all. But maybe, something up there might be kind to him. This was the chance.

Oh, gods and demons.

He stared at the top of the wall below, frozen in an agony of indecision, as the distant Imperial Bell struck, sonorous and echoing, to mark the hour. It struck again an hour later and he was still there, lims locked against the wall, mind locked in an endless cycle of fear and helplessness. The sun grew higher in the sky, and Milo's fur soaked it up as he breathed, almost meditatively and argued against himself.

Another hour passed, Milo stayed where he was. He was a judge, after all. He was used to careful deliberation. But usually he had no emotional investment beyond wanting to do the right thing. This time, the punishment would be horrific. It was the greatest challenge of his career.

Another distant series of bells, and then another. He realised at last that his throat was almost cracked with the dry fear boiling inside him, and tore his mind away from the agony of choice to see if he could find a jug of water or some other drink inside. Milo took a few steadying breaths, settling his thoughts - if only temporarily - and turned to go back inside.

The Emperor was sprawled lazily in the doorway, watching him with intense interest.

"Oh, come on, don't go without making a decision."

Milo's muscles might as well have been wound steel wire for all he was able to move. He gave a feeble noise which he could barely hear.

Goldeneye sighed softly. "I was enjoying that. Was rather hoping you'd try it, in fact. Why else do you think I have this balcony?"

Milo tried to say something, but his throat was so dry that he couldn't even rasp a word if he'd been able to think of any. It was as if every second he had spent along with his thoughts had let the fear feed on them, and suddenly he was more scared than he had ever imagined existing. The enormity of the terror itself frightened and shocked him.

Because he knew what was going to happen.

The gryphon breathed in, very slowly, watching him without blinking. A smile lingered around the edges of his beak, and it was clear that he could practically taste the emotions. They stayed like that for a minute, maybe more, utterly frozen. The sounds of the city hummed in the distance.

Milo managed to break it first, but only with the most massive effort he could imagine. "Please..."

Those mismatched eyes sparkled again, and Goldeneye stood up, padding a few steps forward and sitting down again, next to the feline, back against the balcony wall. Milo, stood fully, barely came up to the lower edge of his beak. He tried again, not daring to step away but cowering from that monstrous, hot, feather presence. "Please... I... I'll do whatever you wish me to to make it right. I was wrong. I'm sorry. I'll... I swear, name it and I'll do it. Just give me... give me a second chance... please. Please. I... I don't..."

He trailed off. Goldeneye was ignoring him, looking instead out over the spreading skyline. "You know," he said softly. "I never really planned on becoming serious about this "empire" business."

Milo closed his mouth, his train of thought so loaded with adrenaline that the comment derailed him completely. "Um," he said, rather weakly. The Emperor chuckled.

"Your world was the first, see. I came out of the space between worlds in a blaze of molten fiery energy, and I could barely figure out how to actually have a body. I was weak, I was confused and honestly, I was about as intelligent as a large insect. But your minds are just naturally intelligent. They fit properly, and you don't even have to try. I took the first little creature to come across me and I nearly bled him dry using him to make my mind work. I learned there were more of you, and all I could think of was being alive. So I came to Alphasiron and I felt so, so many minds, and I started to become me. And that meant I started to become hungry."

He clasped a claw around the little feline, hugging him into the forest of silky heat on his chest. Milo struggled fitfully, trying to get his head out to breath, but it was as if he was barely there.

"I want to experience you. Every part of every one of you to ever exist anywhere. I want to make you mine so much, in every way I can. So I decided right then that I was going to wipe the world out. Every one of you, taken, crushed, eaten, whatever it took to feel your souls properly, in an orgy of greed and spiritual gluttony. Made mine."

Milo had stopped squirming. He felt the Emperor breathing, huge and slow, against him.

"So to start with that, of course, I devoured the city's pitiful ruling class and parliament and declared myself emperor. That's a story for another time, time which you little Milo do not have, but anyway I never intended to let a single sapient being on this planet live out more than a year after I took it for my own. But then... you called me Emperor, god-gryphon, Lord and Master. And I developed a new personality trait, a delightful little thing called ego. And oh, it was so much fun. To just see you fall over yourselves to beg and kiss my toes, just to be allowed to serve me so that you wouldn't squirm for me instead. But it was more than that. I knew most of you didn't believe it, but oh, when it comes down to it, you'd do anything to survive, huh? You'd give me your life so that I wouldn't take it away. And that, I realised, is power. True power. I know you think I'm a monster, Milo. Not an Emperor, not a God-king. Just an vile beast who happens to be the most powerful abomination in this universe and most others. And I agree. So I make you tell me I'm your deity, your perfect ruler, because I know you're lying, and you're lying because I own you not out of some intangible "divine right" or "true royal nature" or some other mortal stupidity. I own you because I have power over you, power I can use without even trying. Power is the truth of the universe, Milo. Not gods, not emperors, not right and justice and truth. Just power. And I have it. And I have you."

He finally realised his unwilling listener, and Milo staggered back, almost falling over the edge of the wall. Goldeneye's long tail was there to catch him, nudging him back to balance. The Emperor giggled, standing up again. "So the point is, little cat... no, this isn't right. You weren't wrong. This goes against all laws of decency and fairness. And I'm not claiming otherwise. I'm just claiming you." He caressed a long, cruel talon along the curve of the feline's blue belly. "You can stop acting like you want to serve me out of awe or respect. You want to serve me because if you don't give me everything in the world to sate my hunger to dominate you, I'll swallow you alive and take my pleasure. You want to serve me, Milo, because I am power, and either I take you or you give you to me. You see?"

"I... I... I see." And he did. He leant against the wall, and finally the fear coiled and cooled into something else. "You are... y-you are a monster."

The gryphon's eyes sparkled. "Oh, yes."

"I... I hate you."

Goldeneye took a step forward, his head leaning down, his body shifting into a slinking, leonine stance. "Oh... you do, don't you?"

"And I-I won't... I won't beg for you. You're wrong. There's... there's more than power. I served something... something else, called fairness. Justice. And... and you think you can destroy all these lives and... and just ignore it?"

The gryphon listened with a smile. "Yes. Because I can."

"No. There's..." he found himself backing away despite his anger, "there's more. There's more to life than the mercy of stronger creatures."

"That's true. I haven't got any."

"You... you think you have power, so that makes everything else meaningless, but... that's just because it works out for you."

Goldeneye shrugged, his shoulders rippling. He had backed the feline up against the balcony wall again. "No, silly. You _just think otherwise because that works out for _you. And you know what else?"

Milo gave a weak, kittenish snarl of defiance, leaning out over the balcony as the gryphon's beak drew nearer. Goldeneye's tongue slipped around the edges of his beak, wet and pink and soft.

"You were wrong about something else. You are going to beg. Because I want it. And I am all that matters."

He looked at Milo, and blinked once.

And the anger vanished, replaced a hundred, thousand, million times over, with terror so vast that it clouded Milo's vision, it filled his ears, it took hold of his very muscles. He gave a yell of primal, blinded fear which crashed and burned straight into a wracking, weeping sob, and tried to scramble away from the monster at any and all costs. Oh gods. Oh gods. No. No. No. No.

He was right up against the balcony wall, and he wasn't even aware of the shift in gravity as his flailings toppled him over it, the warm smooth stone suddenly replaced with air and weightlessness. Milo gasped and choked in horror as he felt himself beginning to fall.

And as his vision cleared in the shock and he looked downwards, he saw Goldeneye, fast as an arrow, sat on the wall twenty feet below, his eyes laughing, his beak wide, wide open. The cat squealed with horror, twisting in the air as he fell, snatching desperately for the lip of the balcony above him, a grip which he never found. He landed, on his feet, cat-like, in just the sweet spot of Goldeneye's open beak.

The gryphon's maw split before the weight like a parting sea of pink, hungry flesh. In an instant, so fast he couldn't even register the slippery transition, Milo was buried up to his knees in hot, clenching gullet. If he hadn't been bending his legs as he entered, he might have slid in all the way, giving the monstrous "Emperor" a meal without having to even swallow.

Milo gave a whimper of overwhelmed dread, wobbling a little. The way the gryphon's beak was pointed at the sky, he was effectively standing with his feet very, very tightly squeezed together, and balance was painfully difficult. He windmilled his arms desperately, toes squirming in the hot, tight embrace in a frantic attempt to stay upright, and Goldeneye's throat rippled in laughter. It came out as a wet, bubbling gurgle. He flexed his neck, just a few inches, and was rewarded with renewed waving and twitching as the feline whined with terror. A long, thick tongue entwined with Milo's legs, somehow squeezing its mass between his clamped-together thighs to properly embrace the flavour. The cat felt it lapping over his fur, drenching it completely in saliva. Tasting him.

He looked down and saw Goldeneye's eyes, golden and purple alike, narrowed in pleasure and almost rolled up into his skull as he focused on the flavours slurped from his prey's blue fur. In the haze of horror and misery, a spark of his anger rekindled at that. The gryphon wasn't just murdering him, he was enjoying it enormously.

"Go... to... the h-hells..." he stuttered, trying to pull a leg free of the squeezing, pulsing, greedy flesh. Goldeneye's eyes refocused, and he raised an eyebrow at his prey.

_Didn't you know, little kitten? I'm the First and Eternal. _The gryphon's voice coiled inside his skull, soft and teasing. It hadn't even touched his ears. Goldeneye had his mouth full, so he simply spoke telepathically. Milo whined, shaking all over at the terrible alien consciousness hovering loathsomely close to his own. He could sense the enormity and the shattered wrongness of it. Goldeneye was worse than a monster. He was an abomination against the very idea of a living thing, and it hurt to sense him.

_Death isn't coming for me, and hell will wait. I'm going nowhere, save maybe to find a new slave to massage the softening bulge in my belly once this is done. _And with that, he swallowed. The flesh around Milo's legs was suddenly solid and muscular, swelling open and rippling up his body in an explosive spasm of pure predatory greed. It was a strange massage, over in a moment but still loud and wet and crushing any twitching resistance by Milo's own weak mortal muscles to absolute nothingness. His legs were claimed, held in hot, heavy, all-encompassing flesh. His tail lashed against the roof of the gryphon's maw, and Goldeneye began to purr through his nares, an odd sound coming from an avian creature.

The anger struggled feebly, but as little ripples and slurps inched the encompassing flesh up over Milo's hips, it was fear and anguish which flooded over it. Milo's snarls of rage and struggle faded to whimpers, to moans, to slow, rising sobs. He clutched at the edges of the gryphon's open beak, trying to push himself out, but his limbs were shaking too much and besides that throat was stronger than his entire body. Goldeneye smirked, and lowered his head so that the feline would be nearly falling out of his beak without the devastating grip of his muscles. He stood perfectly balanced on the wall, paws - big and heavy enough to spread over both sides - lined up neatly while the gryphon worked his meal slowly down his gullet. All this appeared to Milo, upside down, as he twisted and squirmed helplessly in the sinking flesh, staring for a moment under the Emperor's soft-feathered chest. He whimpered, catching sight of a soft, slightly heavy underbelly hanging silently between Goldeneye's hind legs. That was where he was going. It almost seemed to call out to him with its ravenous, rapacious hunger.

Milo squealed with horror, pulling himself back up and bucking desperately against Goldeneye's slurping tongue. His tail flicked wildly, bending painfully at the base as the wet flesh slowly claimed his hips and read. And in a small part of his head not consumed with terror, he realised that the gryphon was right.

"Please..."

Facing towards the ground, Milo couldn't see the Emperor's eyes from his increasingly confined position. And yet he felt certain that they were laughing at him. Every part of the cool, collected machine of logic and reason he had trained his mind into told him that there was nothing to do. There was not a set of words or actions in all the cosmos which could hope to save him from the gluttonous suckling of that fleshy throat. And yet he begged.

"Please, I... I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I swear I'll... I'll do anything for you, just... oh, g-g-gods, no, please, just stop, stop you c-can't... you can't do this..."

Nothing if not consistent, aren't you? Goldeneye purred, his physical voice coming as simply a obscene, growling moan of pleasure at his prey's wriggles and squirms. But I'm watching your mind, Milo. It's delicious. And it knows that it's wrong. I can do this. Nothing will stop me, because I have that power. But still you cling to it, because you want to be something else in life, other than a sinking bulge in my throat and nothing more ever again. Wanting things only makes them happen when you're stronger than reality, little kitten. And now all I want is to taste you and slurp you down. Every last inch.

He swallowed again. The heat rose, claiming Milo's stomach. His arms were starting to fold up towards his head, pushed by the edges of the gryphon's beak. Most of him was by now inside the clenching, pulsing throat, and most of the rest of him was in the mouth, the air hot and humid and every squirm he gave knocking against soft, hot flesh. Goldeneye's tongue snacked up his chest and neck and slathered itself against his face, smothering him in a greedy attempt to lap up every one of his tears. The gryphon gave another purring moan of delight, tasting every inch he could. Saliva was running into Milo's eyes now. He was completely drenched, exhaustedly hot, and almost hyperventilating from terror.

"Nnnn!" he whimpered, gasping for breath as another gulp squeezed his diaphragm and drove the air from his flimsy lungs. "Nn-no, please, please, I... I d-didn't, I didn't mean... please, I swear I'll d-do anything. Just give me... a... second... chance... Nnno, no, no... no... oh, gods, oh gods no..."

My point is proved. _Goldeneye swallowed again, and Milo's arms squeezed against his head, pressed together by the tight confines of the gryphon's maw - but they were nothing to the unbearable pressure and heat which was pummeling the rest of his body into twitching, dripping submission. And now I claim what is mine and has always been. _His tongue renewed its hungry affections on the cat's face, pausing occasionally to entwine with his arms and slurp over them as well. Milo's vision was now framed by a pair of fleshy jaws and the edges of the Emperor's beak. Saliva began to drip into his eyes, but he couldn't move his arms enough to wipe it off. Every movement he made seemed to let him slide a bit closer to the point of no return. His pleas died in his throat, his body seeming to lock up as the terror peaked once again. He was paralysed, a tiny mewing in the back of his throat the closest he could come to crying. "No... no... no..."

Goldeneye gave his neck a slow, rolling shake, letting the muscles of his throat grind and squeeze over every inch of quivering feline filling them. "Mmm..." he said physically, the sound coming out rather muffled from the blockage. You feel so good. The fact is, Milo, there's nothing you could do, nothing on this planet or off it, which comes close to giving me as much pleasure as this. You were made to be swallowed. It's the fulfilment of your whole life. _The gryphon gave a half-swallow, not to take his meal down but simply to ripple his throat over it, crushing every muscle in Milo's body simultaneously. _Hold on a second. _He delicately pivoted his gigantic bulk on top of the wall, balancing with graceful, measured ease, and turned around, facing now towards the city. _Never let it be said I'm not a thoughtful owner, after all. I'll give you a nice view.

Milo cringed at every word, unable to tell if he was crying or if it was just the rivulets of saliva pouring down his face. "No..." he whimpered, pouring every piece of misery into that one tiny word. "Please... just... I'm sorry... Just... give me..."

A second chance? That is the way of the law, isn't it? People change, and can be redeemed. Their sins can be absolved. But my hunger, however... my belly, Milo, will never stop craving you. And I see no reason to deny it.

"Plea-"

And Goldeneye swallowed.

His body was sealed totally, the beak snapping shut in front of his face and plunging him into total darkness a half-second before the muscular gullet rose up and submerged his head in sweltering darkness. Milo's word was choked off, his final scream not even audible as his lungs were squeezed until the pitch black was full of stars. Goldeneye's body dominated him completely, absorbing even his twitches and quivers as it crammed him down into it. He felt his paws squeezing deeper, his body propelled with rippling spasms down, down, down into the depths of the gryphon's body. He couldn't move more than his eyelids and fingers, everything else utterly enslaved to the Emperor's digestive tract.

"Nn..." he managed to splutter, but amidst the distant gurgles and the slow thunder of his heart, Goldeneye might not have even heard it.

Milo's body was slowly bent as he slid deeper into the gryphon, curving to the line of Goldeneye's throat as it twisted to horizontal and neared his belly. The feline's flexible spine protested a little, and his ragged breaths gave way to a moan of pain and despair. The dark flesh squeezed in on him from all sides, and the open air a few feet away through flesh and fat and feathers might as well have been another universe. He had never felt so alone, so doomed.

Still want a second chance, little kitten? Goldeneye said, his voice completely casual. Milo's paws broke into open air, wriggling with relief. The heat was almost painful, and he knew instantly what he was sliding into. The gryphon's immense, engulfing body quivered with laughter. Oh, it is. Can you feel how much it wants to meet you? You know, from the way you squirm I could see you being useful now. But it's too late. Nothing leaves my body alive.

Slowly and tortuously, Milo was slurped out into space as he had entered: painfully and miserably. He collapsed in the pit of Goldeneye's stomach with a slosh, gasping at the hot, viscous liquid almost filling it completely. The stinging began instantly. Evidently the gryphon's belly truly was waiting for him.

Milo surfaced from the pool gasping, spitting out globs of acrid fluid, and tried to push against the walls around him, mad, claustrophobic terror lending him fresh strength. But his body was exhausted with terror already, and the crushing heat had sapped it even more. And besides, there was no way out. The valve which had spewed him into this chemical furnace was sealed tight again.

The cat collapsed, barely managing to keep his head above the surging acids. Now he was starting to hurt. His skin felt raw, his midnight blue fur chafing against his very flesh. Milo leant against the squeezing, churning curve of the gryphon's belly and wept. He tried to speak, to beg for just a moment of respite to prove his worth, but nothing came.

Defeated already? That's fine, little thing. Once again, I predict you'll still beg before the end. And squirm, too. Wriggle for your life. _Goldeneye's stomach sloshed back and forth, a rhythmic motion which Milo realised came from him walking. He knelt, groaning, and screamed a bubbling moan as his skin began to blister and melt. The agony pitched and rolled in time with the gryphon's bloated belly, and once Goldeneye's stomach began to squeeze in on him and crush the fluids into his bloodied skin, it felt even worse. Milo, sure enough, began to squirm, at first to try and get parts of his form out of the searing lake of horror, then simply to somehow escape the pain itself, and magically purge the fiery flames running through every cell in his body by sheer effort of frantic squirming. Now he tasted copper as well as stinging acid. The broken kitten screamed and sobbed, unable to_comprehend this level of sheer pain, every cell pricked by a billion tiny red-hot swords.

Time passed. How long? All he knew was misery. He realised after a few screaming seconds that he hadn't even noticed his sinking below the acid. His lungs were burning simply from the acidic fumes, not from asphyxiation. Goldeneye wasn't letting him die before he squirmed all he could. Before he proved the gryphon right and begged.

Milo slumped in the pit of the gryphon's belly, feeling his bones creak as the flesh squeezed him and crushed. Please... _he thought, with no breath for words. _You're right. You're right. Just let me die now. Let it end. Please. You've taken everything, now just... oh, it hurts, it hurts... please let me die.

Goldeneye caressed his mind, a tendril of thought propping it back to sanity just to appreciate its own agony. Awww, he purred.Didn't take long, did it? See, Milo, I'm just not interested in "letting" you do anything. Your will doesn't exist to me. Just "making" you do what I desire is what I'm into. And I'm going to make you mine.

He twisted something deep within Milo, and burned away his soul with the new heights of torment. The cat screamed until he didn't know he was making sound or simply hearing the roar inside his skull. Slowly, searingly, he died.

The end came hot and burning, not cold, and it did not cease the pain. He wept with his last acid-filled breath, twitching. Milo tried to say something final, something worthy of his life. But all he could hear was his own pain.

He slumped, and the darkness beyond darkness claimed him. Another meal, another life. Another slave to the Emperor's justice. And hunger.

But Goldeneye 's greatest pleasure was in the beautiful spirals of anguish he could create. He was a true sadist, and sadism demands not death, but domination. Death puts an end to that, and why should it?

Milo opened his eyes not in any afterlife, but in the sunlit air of the Emperor's private quarters. He retched, choking out the memory of acid and agony, and fell to his knees, shaking all over. His body still should be burning, but his hands were clean and smooth-furred, his limbs unblemished. He was alive. He was alive? "W... what... what? What?"

A voice answered him, a terrible, dark purring voice which he would have preferred the tones of a demon to. "Oh, little kitten. Didn't you say you wanted a second chance?"

The cat raised his head, still panting, and saw the gryphon's eyes once again. Goldeneye smiled mercilessly, and raised one of his immense hind legs. His stomach spilled out over it, heavy and plump, distended with the still, churning mass of some poor soul sacrificed to it. No, he realised, still reeling at his own life. Not some poor soul. The poor soul of this body was knelt there, staring at the softening bulge.

The gryphon nodded, slowly, a sadistic smile spreading slowly over his beak. "Yes. This is your second chance, little kitten. I was feeling generous, and you gave me a wonderful massage. So welcome to your new duties. No more judgework, I'm afraid."

Milo stared at him. He felt, suddenly, the tight, gripping leather of a collar around his neck. The Emperor smiled wider.

"First order of duty, slave, give my belly some love. It's digesting a wonderful little feline possession of mine, and it would adore a good massage. Get to it. Your only purpose is to serve me, after all."

Goldeneye smiled as the trembling feline hesitated, started to cry, and took a step towards his sloshing gut. It was a good day.

Goldeneye 2016.