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My Name Is Casey 

Chapter 3

Days passed, one much like the other. Casey continued to struggle against Ba’al, sometimes even fighting him in bed, forcing him to subdue her with kisses and caresses. Not once did he ever raise his hand against her. And the battles they waged only served to make her stronger...mentally and emotionally; strength she had yet to recognize. While she still didn’t understand the power she held over her Master, she did know that she could get whatever she wanted.

When rumors reached her ears about the way several of the Goa’uld in service to Ba’al were treating the harem slaves, she demanded that something be done about the situation.

Amused, Ba’al asked her exactly what she wanted him to do.

"I suppose castrating the bastards is out of the question," she huffed.

"I see no reason to castrate obedient and loyal Goa’uld," he replied.

"Then maybe they need a taste of their own medicine," she muttered.

"Right," she grumbled.

Ba’al had no doubt that whatever ‘punishment’ his Consort dreamed up would be most...entertaining. And would serve to keep the Goa’uld under control. Something far more important to him than their treatment of a group of whores.

Through Gemeti, who seemed to be afraid of her, something for which Casey had no understanding, she sent a message to Tiria. Told the woman that she wished to speak with her. And tried to squelch the feeling of satisfaction that she would be the one in control of their meeting, rather than being the older woman’s student.

The Mistress of Women entered Ba’al’s quarters hesitantly. She'd been in Ba’al’s bed many times, when she'd been younger - her body firm, her face devoid of the mark of time. That she had managed to position herself as she had was due not to her abilities in offering pleasure to her Master, which were considerable, but rather her ability to teach women who were brought into the harem how to submit to their fate...and how to use their bodies to offer pleasure to those who enslaved them. She had been told that Casey would be Lord Ba’al’s Consort. She, like so many others who dwelled within the metal hull of his ha’tak, remembered well the beautiful blonde woman who had so bewitched the Goa’uld. She also understood the methods that could be used to break any slave who dared to dream of freedom, or fought the bonds of the slavery imposed upon them by their Goa’uld masters. Seeing Casey as the nearly mindless creature she had been when first brought to the harem wasn’t anything she’d not witnessed before.

The woman sitting at the table near the window, however, bore little resemblance to that shy, almost frightened woman who had huddled in the corner of her private room for hours after being delivered there by the scientists who had...Tiria frowned. She had no idea what those men, servants of her Master no less than she was, had done to the slender blonde.

Casey smiled warmly, her memories of her 'teacher', while not always the most pleasant, were at least tolerable. And the woman was really the only ‘friend’ she had among those on the ship. She rose gracefully. "Tiria, thank you for coming," she said, taking peevish delight in speaking first. She was, after all, the Consort of Lord Ba’al...which afforded her a status she was at last beginning to appreciate.

"I am yours to command, My Lady," Tiria replied timidly. She had treated Casey no different than any other slave brought to the harem rooms. Would that training now come back to haunt her? Was she to suffer for her audacity, for the times she had so viciously struck out at the beautiful young woman?

"Please, sit. Join me in a cup of tea," Casey said, motioning to the table, set with the finest china, plates of pastries and other treats waiting to be sampled.

The older woman hesitated for a moment, then nodded, and settled into the chair opposite of her former student.

"I want to thank you for all that you taught me," the slender blonde continued. "There have been...lessons...that I needed to learn on my own, but your guidance made it possible for me to do so."

"I am pleased that you found my tutelage acceptable," Tiria said stiffly, still uncertain for the reason her presence had been requested.

Casey cocked her head to one side. Studied the dark eyes of the woman across from her. "You have no need to fear me. What was done...is past." And someday, I might actually believe that, she thought. She could still feel the sting of the slaps, the pain of the punches she had endured. Still, knowing that a word from her could bring Ba’al’s wrath down on the woman, Casey found her desire for revenge stifled by her desire to be a much kinder person than the majority of those around her.

"Then my life is truly in your hands," Tiria replied.

There was no denying that fact. Casey simply accepted it with a slight nod of her head.

"My Lady, why have I been summoned?" the harem mistress asked bluntly.

Well, she couldn’t blame the woman, Casey thought. It had to be...surprising...to have Ba’al’s lo’taur deliver a message from his Consort. She shook herself mentally. She had a reason, and she needed this woman’s help to carry out her agenda against the Goa’uld who served Ba’al. "Tiria, I know how the harem slaves are being treated. I don’t like it, and I want to put an end to the brutality. I need your help to do that," she said.

Tiria was speechless. Never had anyone bothered to concern themselves with the treatment of any of the slaves on Lord Ba’al’s ha’tak. She wondered briefly if her Master was aware of the changes that could take place – all because of his love for the slender blonde. Doubted that the woman who held the place of Consort understood how much power she wielded, over those around her...as well as her Master. It would be interesting to watch the power plays that would no doubt ensue, once those in service of Ba’al realized just how much influence the Consort had over him. Neither would hear warnings from her. She had no intention of speaking her thoughts to either her Master, nor his Consort.

"I want those Goa’uld to understand that treating the harem slaves with such...cruelty...won’t be tolerated," Casey said gently.

"My Lady, those in service to Ba’al have done nothing that Ba’al himself has not done at one time or other," Tiria replied.

Now it was Casey who was shocked into speechlessness. Just before raw, red rage poured over her in an rush of emotion that left her shaking. "Stay here. I’ll be back," she said, her voice raspy with anger. "Help yourself," she added, pointing to the pastries.

Tiria watched as Casey stormed from the room. Couldn’t help but chuckle. Like it or not, Ba’al was about to come face to face with his Consort’s fiery temper. Who would win the encounter about to take place was speculation at best...but her bet was on the slender blonde.

It was only a matter of asking her guards to learn Ba’al’s whereabouts. He was, at that moment, on the planet below them, inspecting the palace that he would soon inhabit. Not taking time to consider what she was doing, Casey ran toward the transport rings.

"My Lady-" one of her guards began to protest.

"You can take me to him, or I can find him myself," she hissed.

Exchanging glances of fear, the two guards hesitantly joined her in the marked circle. In a flash of blinding white light, the three were transported to the surface of the planet. They found themselves in the courtyard between the temple and the palace...both structures still under construction, workmen and slaves could be seen laboring to complete their tasks.

The sound of the rings activating brought Ba’al’s head around in surprise. The architects who stood with him backed away slowly, understanding that for the moment, the Goa’uld’s attention was not on them. He watched as Casey stalked toward him, flames of anger shooting from her green eyes.

She had every intention of knocking the crap out of him. As soon as she was close enough, her hand rose in preparation of delivering the blow that would give him the full brunt of her anger.

He caught her wrist. "Tread carefully, Beautiful One," he said, his voice cool.

"How could you? How could you treat them so cruelly? They’re terrified enough...but to be treated with such...how could you?" she demanded, her voice quavering with emotion.

Her anger he had recognized. He’d not been prepared for the tears that filled her eyes, one stealing down her cheek. "What are you talking about?"

The despair...the fear...that lurked in her beautiful green eyes cut him to the quick. "Never, Casey. I swear I could never...would never hurt you."

Not once in his long life had Ba’al ever been forced to look at his actions. He was Goa’uld...a god. He did as he pleased because there was no one to stop him. Yet, here she stood, a slip of a woman, demanding that he prove his love to her. To prove that she was safe from his rages, his habit of taking his frustrations out on the helpless slaves around him.

Casey whirled around, wrapped her arms around her slender waist, began to pace. "I trusted you," she said at length, glancing over at the Goa’uld who watched her in silence.

"Leave us," Ba’al ordered. Waited until the plaza was empty except for the two of them. "You have no reason to doubt my love for you."

"I have every reason to doubt you," she responded hotly. "I hate you!" she hissed. In that moment, the emotion...so new to her...was sincere.

He blanched, walked to where she stood. Watched with growing concern as she backed away from him when he reached for her.

"I trusted you," she repeated, her voice in a whisper.

"Have I given you a reason to distrust me?" he asked gently.

"You beat them. Raped them. Dehumanized them," she said softly.

He struggled to find the response that would keep Casey at his side, emotionally as well as physically.

"I hate you," she said again, tears rolling down her cheeks.

He stepped closer. Wreathed her face with his hands, relieved that she allowed him to do so. His thumbs wiped away the dampness on her cheeks. "Tell me how to make this up to you," he whispered, unaware of how much control he was giving to her.

"I don’t know," she admitted.

"I love you, Casey," Ba’al whispered, lowering his head, his intention to kiss her.

She backed away. "For now. What happens next week...or next month?"

"I’ve loved you for a very long time," he said. Noted how cold he felt when she moved away from him.

Once again he moved toward her. Reached for her, pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. "Never before have I loved as I love you. Never again will I love as I love you. What I feel for you will not fade," he promised.

She looked up at him, searching his eyes for any lies that might be hidden by his words. "I’m afraid," she whispered.

"Don’t be, Casey. You have no need to fear me, ever, My Beloved," he whispered in reply. "Come, I’ll return to the ha’tak with you."

"I need to be alone...to think about things," she said, pulling away from him once again.

His heart shuddered in his chest. "Casey-"

She shook her head. "It’s strange, isn’t it...that love and hate can be felt for the same person."

"If you still love me, then not all is lost," he said.

"I’m not certain that I love you more than I hate you...at least not in this moment." She walked toward the transport rings. "May I ask Gemeti to find quarters for me? I’d rather not...I’d rather have-"

"Tell her that it is my wish that you be allowed to choose a room for yourself. She’ll show you which quarters are available." Never before had he been faced with such a predicament; his happiness had never been in the hands of another. Yet here he stood, a mighty god, his heart in the slender hands of the woman he loved.

She nodded. "Thank you."

Green eyes brimmed with tears. But she remained silent. Her personal guards had been waiting in the open garden just in front of the wide door into the palace. She quietly called for them, and the three once again returned to the ship that orbited above the planet.

Ba’al took a deep breath. Casey had always tried to ease the burden of those around her when she’d been on his ship before. He’d allowed her the freedom to do so, hoping that she would understand that it was his love for her that stayed his hand.

When Casey had told him about the...situation, he had been amused at her disquiet over the treatment of the harem slaves. Had found her concern endearing, and so typical of her tender heart. If he had known that her ire would turn against him, he would have-

Before the thought was completed in his mind, he was barking orders. Perhaps if he took those guilty of hurting the harem slaves to task, she would understand how deeply he loved her, that he would do anything for her. The latter thought was lost amid the contemplation of punishment for those guilty of disturbing the happiness he had found with his Consort. 

Rarely did a Goa’uld love as deeply as Ba'al loved Casey. But when it happened, the love was deeper than any not Goa’uld could imagine.

She paced the corridors, arms wrapped tightly around her slender waist...a defensive posture against the emotions that warred inside her. Unbeknownst to her, it was a posture that those around her recognized. That she missed the glances of concern...even looks of pity...was due only to the fact that she was too miserable to notice those around her...for the first time since her arrival.

Tiria, informed by Gemeti that Casey was upset, quietly left Ba’al’s quarters. The reason that Casey had sought her company still ringing in her ears, she watched with renewed interest as those who normally took their pleasure within the walls of the harem instead walked on, without even looking in the direction of the women who sat in plain sight of the passersby. Within hours, whispers of what had transpired on the planet began to make their way around the ha’tak. If she had regretted her brusque treatment of the woman before, the harem mistress felt even more so as she eavesdropped on the Jaffa who gossiped in the corridors. Casey was a woman of great beauty. And was capable of astounding compassion. And it seemed that not even the mighty Ba’al was immune to her charms...or her temper.

For his part, Ba’al ate silently, glaring at the empty chair where she normally sat, listening to him as he told her whatever story caught his fancy. Smiling, even giggling at times...such a sweet sound...

As had happened so many times, she had left his side. In a fit of anger, the Goa’uld hurled a his chalice against the wall, unmindful of the stain the wine made on the fabric that covered the cold metal.

Casey sat alone, her legs up, knees tucked under her chin. It was the first time she’d been left alone since she’d been in Tiria’s care. She’d disliked being alone then...was certain she could feel the weight of stares upon her...even imagined that she could hear a quiet whisper. Now, she felt and heard only the silence that filled the room.

The question on her mind continued to poke at her, not leaving her in peace as she vacillated between anger and confusion...love and hate. Part of her furious with Ba’al for his part in her churning emotions. Part of her missed him...longed to be with him.

The quiet poking in the back of her mind became stronger; still unidentified, but at least acknowledged. She had no idea what her mind was attempting to tell her. There were no answers, of that she was certain. Just the confusion that seemed to have been her constant companion since she’d opened her eyes.

Ba’al had asked her what she wanted. She had no clue what that might be. If she demanded punishment for those who had mistreated the harem slaves, would he not be among that number? And as angry as she was, the thought of him suffering left her gasping for breath. That, her heart informed her, was the love she felt for him. What she had to decide, she realized, was whether the love was stronger than the anger...and the fear the entire situation had brought to life.

Ba’al paced the room, growling every so often about the audacity of a mere slave to have brought him to such a state. When he realized the turn his thoughts had taken, he stopped mid-stride. Casey wasn’t a slave. Hadn’t been from the moment he’d realized his feelings for her.

He’d often laughed at the few Goa’uld who bowed to the wishes of their lover...no matter how slight a bending that might have been. Now, he fully understood the desire...the need...to keep the one he loved happy. Not because she might withhold her love if he didn’t, but simply because he wanted to see her smiling...to see the light of happiness in those amazing green eyes.

Mind made up, he charged through the door, strode toward the elevator. He rode to the level of the guest quarters. Gemeti had told him exactly where his Consort was sleeping.

The door opened, and for a moment, Casey simply stared at him. He stepped into the room. "I’m sorry," he said softly.

She nodded her acknowledgement. Remained impassive as she regarded him.

Rising to her feet, she crossed the room, her arms wrapped around herself in a posture of self-defense. "Your promise that you’ll never hurt me."

"I promise," he replied immediately.

She shook her head. "Words are cheap, Ba’al."

He sighed with exasperation. "What would you have me do?"

"I don’t know," she whispered.

He looked around the room. Returned his gaze to her, found her eyes studying him intently. "I won’t sleep without you."

"What is it you want from me?" She asked softly.

With a small, hiccupped sob, she flung herself into his arms. "I do love you," she whispered.

"As much as you hate me," he sighed, holding her close.

"No, I don’t hate you that much," she replied.

He smiled at the impudence the words held. He swept her into his arms, carried her to the bed, his lips already moving against hers.

Once again Ba’al would make love to Casey in the same place that Jackson had made love to his wife. This time, however, that fact was lost on him as the Goa’uld gave himself completely to the slender woman in his arms...the need to show his love...prove his love...driving him to gentleness that surprised both of them.

When the satiated, exhausted lovers fell asleep, they were still wrapped in one another’s arms.

When Ba’al ordered the Goa’uld in service to him to report to his throne room, none in attendance expected the events that followed. While none of the Goa’uld openly sneered at the woman sitting in the throne beside their Lord and Master, the air reverberated with their disdain of one they considered nothing more than a mere Tau’ri slave.

Ba’al watched each of them, his eyes narrowing as he sensed their condescension. Not one of the seven men and three women had been able to do more than offer their abilities and knowledge to the highest bidder...never had any of these Goa’uld commanded their own armies...owned their own ships. They were the lowest among the Goa’uld, their existence in the Empire tolerated only as long as they were needed. How dare they presume to sit in judgment over him! "There have been reports that you are treating the slaves with more brutality than is necessary," he said, his displeasure written plainly on his handsome face.

"We should be concerned with mere slaves?" one of the Goa’uld demanded, his gaze moving to Casey. Rumors of her rant about the treatment of certain slaves had been running rampant on the ha’tak.

"When you serve me, you will be," Ba’al replied.

"I think perhaps you’re thinking with your cock, and not with your brain," one of the others shot at him, daring Ba’al to respond. He wasn’t unaware of just how much Ba’al needed the Goa’uld who served him, at least for the moment. He had, however, miscalculated his own importance to the System Lord.

Ba’al lifted his hand. Rarely did a Goa’uld use a ribbon device on another Goa’uld. He held the offender in the beam of golden light. "I think perhaps you forget your place!" he said, seething with anger at the open insolence.

"For-give...forgive," the Goa’uld begged, willing to do or say anything to stop the pain.

Ba’al frowned. A glance at those watching let him know that they weren’t as...concerned...as they should be. "Of course," he said smoothly. And then killed the host, that man collapsing to the floor.

When the symbiote crawled out of the mouth, hissing and screeching, Casey barely bit back a scream of absolute horror.

Ba’al reached for the zat’nik’tel on the table beside him. Fired once...twice...three times. The creature vanished in a spray of steam and ash.

The other Goa’uld dropped to their knees, understanding that their ability to grovel would see them live for at least another day.

"If any of my slaves need disciplined, it will be I who administer punishment. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" Ba’al asked, his voice cold and demanding.

Murmurs of acquiescence echoed in the room.

"Leave my sight...you disgust me," he spat. Ignoring the fact that he needed the expertise of at least five of the Goa’uld who huddled, face down on the floor.

The Jaffa who had filled the room escorted the Goa’uld away, all of whom cast glances over their shoulders at the slender blonde who sat beside Ba’al. He was the System Lord. She, however, held the power. Not that any of their number would object...nor bring her wrath, and thus his, down on themselves.

Casey reached out, wrapped her fingers around his hand. She smiled when he looked at her. No words were needed between them. Not now.

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