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ofathcns · 3 years

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The Courting of Narcissus

Alternately titled “Dionysus, again?!”

Rated PG-13 for mentions of wink wonk

Ft. Mentions of @dorianxagapetos, @mylesxdelian, @kairosxevander, @elenepetrakis, @penelcpes

There is more to do in Elysium, he realizes. He is not an anomaly for keeping up with his training, but he does take longer than the rest to actually enjoy his afterlife. Sometimes he goes to heroes, other soldiers touched by gods, and he requests a match simply because no one has come to him. He finds the people of Elysium lounging, drinking wine in various stages of undress. More than once he’d stumbled upon poor Achilles and Patroclus, sometimes even joined by who he believes to be the lover of Apollo himself. It’d been the hero who’d slayed Hector who had told him to find a lover or two of his own.

It is not as if courting in Elysium is quite a thing, but there are many of them there without their lovers, Theseus thinks Achilles got rather lucky in that department. His dear Pirithous is still lost to the Underworld and Ariadne…

He tries not to think of her.

Helen was granted Elysium, she is there somewhere and it does cross his mind to perhaps try wooing her now that they are older. In life he’d wanted to marry her simply for the status. She’d been too young when he and Pirithous had gathered her up the first time, she was meant to stay with his mother, have a happy life in Troezen until they were ready to marry. But even as a youth, he’d been more interested in doing whatever would get Pirithous’s attention. And his attention was kept with their adventures, with challenges.

If he were to ever step foot past the threshold of Helen’s door, it’d be to apologize profusely for the folly of a lovestruck boy.

So he set his sights on people he saw decently often. Wrestling with Odysseus got heated, combat felt more...There was a tension there that he couldn’t quite ignore and perhaps Achilles really was onto something.

Of course, being king of Athens, being a hero, he cannot have just anyone as a lover, he needs a challenge, he needs an equal.

And what bigger challenge than someone in love with themselves?

He doesn’t mean for it to happen, but it does.

People forget that Narcissus is a hunter, or perhaps they simply see him and are so taken by his appearance, that they do not think to fear him. But the moment that Theseus first lays eyes on him, he is perhaps a little afraid of him. He’s truly beautiful basking beside a pond, a basket of fruit beside him. It is ridiculous, he has fought many man, he has fought many beast, and yet there’s this apprehension coiled tight in his gut and he finds himself speechless.

Aside from rattling off his titles.

Which don’t seem to impress Narcissus in the slightest.

And so Theseus, ears burning just a little, hurries back to his training grounds and tells Asterius all about it. The beast seems to give just a solemn nod as he recounts the exploit and if he weren’t so embarrassed, he’d have gone to Achilles.

“I am a king, Asterius! And yet I looked at him and I felt like a boy again!” His companion nods again, arms crossed over his chest as Theseus paces the field. It’d been like looking at Pirithous again for the first time, Ariadne even and perhaps Achilles really is onto something, he is absolutely lonely but he refuses to acknowledge such a thing out loud. So instead he sighs and stops in his tracks before the minotaur.

“You will try again.” The beast says in his somber, thoughtful way.

So he does. Not once, not twice, but several times he approaches the most beautiful man he’s ever laid eyes upon without feeling like he is making any progress. Until one day one day Narcissus asks him if he’d like to go hunting and of course, he jumps at the chance to perhaps finally show off a little. It doesn’t quite go well the first time, but it doesn’t go...Terribly. It’s a lot of traipsing through the wood. Some days they don’t see anything, other days it’s a deer, a pheasant, a rabbit in a snare.

They talk on days when it seems they won’t find anything, though often Theseus just finds himself listening. It takes time, he wants to meet all of Narcissus’s stories about his life with tales of his own accomplishments, but he finds the other will not listen to his boasts. If he does, he doesn’t seem all that impressed and at first it is frustrating and then one day, it isn’t. He is a king, he brought democracy to Athens, he doesn’t need to boast, and he finds that he actually likes listening. There’s something about his voice that he finds just as pleasing as his face.

The first time Theseus kisses him, it is to shut him up. They are among the many flowers that surround Narcissus’s home, the ones named after him, and he doesn’t know if he does it because he’s been watching the other man’s lips move or if he wishes to get him to just stop talking.

Achilles and Patroclus had a fair point, he did need someone. But the hunter was often visited by another, and not just any other person, but Dionysus himself. It spoils something for a few days, when he first glimpses the two. Dionysus had stolen Ariadne from him and now he was in the home of the man who he had affection for. He waxes about the matter only to Asterius and when Achilles asks him how the impossible is going, he simply smiles and tells him that not everyone could find their Patroclus.

It isn’t a deterrent for long though, he’s a hero, he’s a king, and there’s many more kisses to be had. They have them, he stops wondering if the other man is simply entertaining him, it does not matter. It does not matter until he is back at home alone or with Asterius gazing out at the water and then Theseus thinks about Phaedra, about Hippolytus, Aegeus even. And when he is done thinking of them, when he is done mourning them for the day, sometimes he thinks of Athens, the kingdom he’d let down.

It never lasts, those moods. He is good at picturing his worries upon the shores and mentally watching the Aegean wash them away. He likes to think it’s both of his father’s telling him not to worry.

He doesn’t worry the first time he has Narcissus. The hunter’s house is full of mirrors, there is not a single room that their reflections aren’t watching them. And watch them they do as muscles ripple and lips collide again and again and again. Time is a funny thing in paradise, he does not know how long they go about such a dance and Theseus does not care. For he has the most beautiful man under him, sometimes over him, and it is hard not to get wrapped up in such a thing in what could be a matter of weeks, months, years even. He has never cared much for aesthetics, it’s a trivial thing, but seeing the two of them together is so pleasing and he thinks Narcissus thinks so, too.

Things change, Patroclus and the Spartan prince Hyacinth that is often with him leave Elysium, leaving Achilles alone. Theseus watches the world with him; they keep an eye on Corinth together or he views it through one of Narcissus’s many mirrors as they lounge amongst the flowers. They banter about it, about the gods, about magic, about how funny mortals dress nowadays and how unfortunate this whole thing must be.

But when his father comes to call upon him, the god of the sea himself, the thought of himself and the hunter, the phantom feeling of him coming undone under his hands, it isn’t enough to get him to stay. Theseus jumps at the chance to do right by Poseidon, but he makes a point to say goodbye to those he’s met in paradise.

First is Odyseuss, the man who is always up for a story, a tale of the sea, or his clever wife. It’s one last sparring match, one last story, and he wonders what the other hero would do in his shoes. If he would seek out his Penelope, if he would continue his adventures. But he does not ask, instead he goes to see Bellerophon, his brother. They talk and they drink and muse about their father, their many siblings. He promises to tell him tales of them if he meets any of them again.

It pains him to leave Achilles when his house is already nearly empty. Theseus still half expects to see Patroclus flanked by Hyacinth, but there is just aristos achaion. Much like Odyseuss, they spare a final time and Theseus promises to return to him, ensuring him that he will do right by Patroclus, even the Spartan prince he’s so fond of. They embrace the way men do, hands clapping at shoulders and he is on his way.

He is half expecting to be met with the sight of the god of wine, and yet it’s just Narcissus and his many mirrors. Somehow, he thinks that makes it worse, makes it harder. He tells him he is leaving, that he is going to Corinth to put a stop to all of the madness there, he thinks. That Poseidon himself had asked him to go.

What feels like the most important part, is that Theseus tells Narcissus he will miss him. With his hand upon his face, he tells him that he will miss him, that he’ll return triumphant. He’s a king, after all, he’s a hero, and he will do what heroes do. It is a fleeting moment, but wasn’t all time in Elysium fleeting? The kiss he gives the other man isn’t. It is perhaps firm and desperate and leaves him wanting. He leaves quickly, not because he doesn’t want to hear what the other man has to say (and he imagines it is a lot), but because Narcissus is perhaps the one who could convince him to stay.

It is just a way to pass the time, their tryst. Narcissus will still have Dionysus, he will still have whoever else comes to call upon him, and he will be just fine ‘living’ amongst his hall of mirrors. But even as Theseus tells himself this, he finds himself already missing the other.

When he goes to say goodbye to Asterius, the beast regards him the same way he always does. “You will return, Theseus.” Is what he tells him in that steady baritone. Not ‘King of Athens’, not ‘Son of Poseidon’, but he calls him by name. For he is his friend, and Theseus responds by embracing him the way men do.

Except as they part, the minotaur presses something into his palm. It’s a narcissus, colored gold, petals soft and familiar. It’s from the hunter’s own garden and something in his chest seizes at the sight of it.

“Do not forget us.” Asterius states, voice perhaps a little far away.

“How could I ever?” He smiles up at the beast, closes his hand carefully around the flower, and then he turns towards the sea. He’d press it when he got to Corinth, he thinks. There it would sit on a mantle and wait for him in a way he wished Narcissus would.

#self para.#narcissus.#patroclus.#penelope.#hyacinth.#helen.

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littlesparklight · 4 years

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Six Little Lights

The first sketch of a fic for the beginnings of the six children of Kronos and Rhea. Mind the distress, brief mentions of imprisonment, references to metaphysical vore, etc.

Hestia gets five days before Gaia and Ouranos whisper poison, true poison, but poison nonetheless, in her father's ear. She has five days in the sunlight, reaching for the warmth of it, as some innate part of her is drawn to it. She nearly falls into the hearth because the flames entrance her and she cannot yet capture or control them, protesting when her mother catches her and pulls her away. Five days in the light, in the warmth of her parents' arms, with her mother drowning her in kisses, sleeping curled up on her father's knees. Five days she will later consider both some of her most treasured memories and the purest, most cruel torture, for from them she understands what might have been.

What never would have been allowed to be, both by Gaia's contrivance and her father's pride and fear.

There's only her and Kronos in the room when it happens; a moment of sitting in a patch of sunlight, a puzzle before her, made of the world. Pieces slipping into place, and then the shadow of her father cutting out the sunlight. Greater than it should be, but Hestia misses that until she looks up, smiling, expecting nothing but the kind presence and supporting hand of her father. He towers - more than he should - his eyes are terrible - no warmth there - his hand is too big - it closes her within the prison of his fingers and she is too startled to scream.

Later, much, much later, when Rhea is holding her for the first time, rocking her like she is a tiny child and whispering into her hair, her voice raw enough it's cutting the air, Hestia finds out Kronos had pretended ignorance when Rhea couldn't find their firstborn daughter.

*** Demeter has a couple hours before darkness swallows her. She spends them in her mother's arms, soaking up ambrosial milk, and smiling at the blooming myrtle by the window. She asks what it is, and though some part of her might already have known when Rhea names it, the name of the plant settles in her mind like a gift. It's important. She watches the swaying leaves from the safety of Rhea's soft, rounded arms. The shifting greens of them, the delicate blooms nearly glowing in the sunlight; the scent from the flowers seem a near physical thing, and Demeter is so entranced her mother falls asleep long before she does.

She does not fear when the door opens and a towering god comes in, for what does she have to fear? The Titan is as unfamiliar as he's not as he strides across the floor; the closer he comes the more familiar he becomes, and Demeter is reaching for her father when he stops by the bed. He smiles at her, but his eyes are dark. So very, very dark, and he's also in the way of her view to the window. She's about to ask him to move, or maybe to pick her up and carry her to the window when he reaches for her, scooping her up gentle as anything in a hand that is... much too large, she's sure, he wasn't this large just a moment before.

She doesn't get a chance to ask why.

Demeter screams right before the darkness snaps her down, right before there's something hesitant and un/familiar reaching for her in this nowhere place, and it's only later, a lot later, that she finds out Rhea had awoken thanks to that scream, and Kronos had asked her where their newborn daughter was. They'd gone looking, husband and wife, and Rhea had shaken in the same grief that is now guilt as she holds her daughter after getting her back, her mother whispering apology on apology that she should've gotten suspicious before he managed to swallow her.

Maybe she should have, and maybe Demeter is a little slow to embrace her, but Demeter finds in herself only a slowly boiling anger for her father. He's the guilty one, here.

*** Hera's first moments are with the scent of the sea on the air, the sound of a river nearby, and watching long, thin willow branches with their oval leaves dance in the wind as she lays between her mother's shaking knees. She does not know why her mother is shaking as Rhea fights to stand up so soon after birth, why her voice is shaking, her hands are shaking, shushing her when Hera is not crying, asking her to be quiet, please be quiet, Hera, darling. Quiet.

She's not making a sound, not after her first attempt at asking, but the repetition frustrates and confuses her, and when Rhea attempts to swaddle her, her hands still shaking, which makes the procedure of it take a lot longer, makes the fabric catch and chafe against her, Hera starts to fuss. Her mother gets more upset, Hera gets angrier, and finally she twists, still quiet, kicks away from Rhea's hands and staggers to her feet, running off towards where some of the longest of the low willow's branches reach towards the ground.

She runs right into a pair of legs, and Hera looks up at a giant, at his furious expression, the swell of his essence, and screams for her mother.

Her mother doesn't reach her in time, but she can feel her reaching behind her, can feel a swipe, a punch against the god's - her father's - chest just missing her dangling feet, and she tries to match, to copy, but he ignores them both. The darkness isn't as scary as Hera thought it might be, but the fussing of other hands, these not shaking or jostling her, are welcome still.

Later, with autumn sunlight on their heads, honey scent on the air, and her mother's arms around her, Hera and Rhea both cry. Later still Hera will be angry and not be quite sure for why, but right then and there, there are only tears and the warmth of her mother's arms around her. She does not mind the shaking, not immediately so, anyway.

*** Hades is born with his mother's screams in his ears.

She curses, threatens, swears the most terrible vengeance of earth and sky that she could hand him - no. Not him. This is not about him, Hades understands, just as one set of hands, gentle, soft, desperately clutching at his flesh so hard even divinity cannot keep it from bruising, are swept aside for another pair. Not a pair; just one hand. Monstrous in size, it traps him, and Hades is too small, too slow, too weak and unformed in power to fight, both for himself and his screaming mother. He still tries, though, and the unformed wave of power almost allows him to slip up, tearing gouges out of the hand grasping him. It only clutches tighter, and he cannot help the gasp of pain. He regrets it as his mother cries again, can feel her reaching for him and be pushed away, and who is doing this? Who is allowed to do this?

Where is his father?

He only understands that his father is right there, that it's his father doing this when, faced with a roiling darkness reaching for him, Rhea begs Kronos not to swallow his firstborn son. His father only laughs, and then there is nothing. Nothing but a vague sense of not being alone, of hands and essences reaching for his, larger than he is but barely any less formed.

Later, when his mother is crying too much to so much as whisper, her hands on him shaking as she feels out his features, still wavering under her gentle grip, Hades understands his birth was the first time Rhea was chained down for. She'd been locked inside after Hera's birth, but to ensure she wouldn't be too troublesome after she'd birthed her and Kronos' fourth child, Kronos had had her chained to the bed.

He's not yet strong enough to fight and defend himself, his siblings, his mother, but Hades vows he will be.

*** Poseidon is aware of crying before he's even fully out in the world, and he's screaming in confused, protesting defiance for it. He's not something to cry over! There's a hand that catches him, gently pulling him out the last little bit, and the gasping cries and hiccuping tears turn to pleading. Pleading in among a metallic jingling, jarring into clanking every other moment.

Poseidon falls quiet, frowning up into dark, narrow eyes. Twists around in the huge hand to see chains, to see his mother trying to reach for him but unable to, so tightly do the golden chains hold her. The room is fairly swathed in them, in fact, to chain down a goddess who ought not to be able to be chained, her nature against such things. Poseidon yells once more and bites the nearest finger, but that avails him little. He's too small, too soft, too weak. And if his mother cannot protect him, he will have to do that himself.

But he cannot do that yet, and so Kronos swallows him - but at least the landing is gentle, though he quickly squirms away, deciding he will need no help. It's not a decision much changed later, though a lot less later than for his other siblings, when Rhea reaches for him. He lets her. He holds her by the shoulders and lets her touch, leaning down to kiss her brow, but they are perfunctorily gestures. She could not protect him, and they both know it.

*** Rhea gives birth to Zeus on Crete, far away from Mount Othrys and hidden in a cave as deep as she can go, wishing it was deeper still. She gets out of the palace thanks to Metis, who had repeatedly reassured her it would be best to wait for as long as possible near to birth before they got her out of there. Rhea is a little ashamed to admit she thought Metis had decided to not go through with it, that it wasn't worth the risk, before the door opened and Metis had helped her up as the first contraction shook her. Metis leaves as they stand on the last beach before endless sea, telling her she will find Gaia and tell her Rhea needs her advice, and then she leaves.

This, too, has reason; if Kronos figures out Rhea had help, it's better no one is with her to find that help. If he figures out it's Metis, better Metis not know where she is.

So Rhea goes to Crete by herself, and hides away in a cave like a shaking hind, terror for the child she's bringing forth, terror for her husband wracking her limbs. Terror and anger. She will not let him touch her again, as soon as she can make sure he does not know her son lives, and where. She gives birth silently, and she's nearly scared out of her wits when Gaia reaches up through the earth to catch her newborn - a son, her Zeus, her bright and darling youngest. He's smaller than he should be, but she and Metis had worked on that too. Confuse things by having Zeus born a month earlier.

Rhea takes her baby in her hands and does not dare to give him her breast while Gaia gives her a small stone, as large as Zeus is, and tells her how to prepare it, to give it to Kronos wound up in lies he will believe.

She has to leave her baby there in the darkness, and she does not want to. She sings him asleep, peels his tiny fingers away from her one large one, sets him down on part of her discarded clothing and leaves, but - and whether that's luck or Gaia taking mercy, she meets a nymph partway down the mountain.

Zeus will not grow up alone, without guarding hands and kind intent, and Rhea stands tearless on the beach of the southernmost tip of the land they call their own, far away from precious, sunlit Crete and her even more precious son, hidden away in the middle of mortal noise. It's there Kronos finds her, and she curses him once more, curses him as he takes the swaddled stone, lunges at him with her knees still shaking. Misses the stone, dodges the hand he reaches for her.

Unburdened, she flees.

Not back to Crete - she can afford to be found, but her son cannot if her husband finds out he has been tricked, and he will be distracted with her, this way.

Rhea returns to Mount Othrys only much later, closer to when Zeus is ready, closer to when the curses she's hurled on Kronos' head four times have will be fulfilled. He will suffer as she has suffered, and he will regret doing this to her, to their children.

#greek mythology #greek gods #hestia #demeter #hera #hades #poseidon #rhea #zeus #lightart

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intelligentdumbass · 4 years

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The Walls Have Fallen

(Not sure what this is, I guess Pollo’s talking to himself? Pretty experimental)

If I sing, would anyone listen? Would anyone bother with a song of this god in a foolish war?

’You knew how everything would end.’

I always do.

‘Yet you still kept up the game of pretend’

What else would’ve I done? Would you have rather let them rot?!

‘But isn’t that exactly what you did? When your silver arrows pierced the heart of the Grecian camp?’

He refused Chrysies’ ransom!

‘That is not all, what of the things before it even began? Do you still remember your twin sister, upon seeing the army do her wrong, suggest on giving them an impossible task?’

I thought he wouldn’t dare! We thought he’d never agree to such an awful ask!

‘But he did; all for a change in the wind, but this is not all of what you immortals did. Don’t act like it never happened. You always remember, even if you wished to forget. It could’ve ended quicker, but it didn’t.’

But I did wish for that, for it to stop!

‘But you didn’t let it; you couldn’t’

That wasn’t my fault!

‘But not exempt from blame either; you lot never are. Even now you still smell the blood; hear their cries, and see the desperate look in their eyes, and by the reach of the tenth year, you were desperate too.

“Trojans!” you yelled “Rush on the foe; do not let yourselves be thus beaten by the Argives!” all the while as Pallas urged the Achaeans forward whenever she found them slacking.’

I know; it was foolish for me to hope.

‘Well, I suppose there was a brief point in the war, where both sides were glad, for they thought they could finally rest, when Paris declared,

“…Hector, your scorn is as sharp as an axe that a shipwright wields at work, and the rebuke is just. Still, do not taunt me with what the goddess of love has given me. If you would have me do battle with Menelaus, bid the Trojans and Achaeans take their seats; let the victor, who proves to be the better man, take the woman and all that she has, and the rest to swear to a solemn covenant of peace.”’

I remember that, that and so much more. You’re right; I haven’t forgotten anything at all. Oh, if only the peace Paris spoke of was meant to be!

The gods were sitting on their thrones and gazing down upon the earth.

“Well?” Zeus’ voice thundered across the halls. “We must consider what we shall do about all this; shall we set them fighting anew or make peace between them?”

Hera couldn’t contain herself. “Dreaded son of Cronus, is all my effort then, to result to nothing?”

He frowned. “My dear, what harm have Priam and his sons done that you are so hotly bent on sacking their city? Of all the inhabitants under the stars of heaven, there was none that I so much respected as Ilium with Priam and his whole people.”

“Some of my own favorite cities are Argos, Sparta, and Mycenae. Sack them whenever you are displeased with them. Even if I tried to stop you; I would gain nothing from it, for you are much stronger than I am, but I will not have my own work wasted.” Her voice was stern as they locked eyes. “I am a goddess of the same race as yourself, and am honorable not on this ground only, but also because I am your wife, and you are the king over the gods.”

She continued. “Let it be a case of give-and-take between us; the rest of the gods will follow our lead. Tell Athena to go and take part in the fight at once, and let the Trojans be the first to break their oaths.”

And Athena eagerly went, and Pandarus fired his bow in my name.

‘Why were you so silent?’

I was in Pergamus and there was nothing that I could’ve said to sway them.

Hera wouldn’t be the only one upset, some of the Greeks themselves would complain for their work to have been all for naught. They didn’t come here to toil for some woman they never met; they were here for the glory and the prizes that they would get. For those men, Helen was merely an excuse, to give reason for what they have done. It would also be easier then, for Agamemnon to quell everyone’s frustrations of having to fight for him, when they all get their large share of wealth.

‘Are you mad?’

…Not at my fellow immortals, no. They were only doing their job; they are their patrons after all.

‘But aren’t you as well?’

What of it?

‘Hah, I suppose you must’ve just loved the royal family that much.’

Oh fuck you.

‘Am I wrong? Want me to name them one by one?’

You know that’s not all it was, at least not just that type of love-

Apollo briefly snaps out of his internal monologue when Athena enters the room, but before she could say a word, the god was already gone. He now sits down on the ground, back leaning against one of the many oaks in the garden.

‘…Are you sure you’re not mad?’

I just need time for myself.

‘That’s what you’ve been saying for the past 4 months’

Okay fine, maybe a little bit, but I still try not to be. Even then, in the midst of the war, I tried not to fight them.

‘Like when Poseidon and Artemis insulted you and Hera hit your twin with her own bow?’

I meant when Athena and I were on good terms; proud of our men, and watching them duel while we were vultures perched on father’s high oak-

‘“Idiot, you have no sense, and forget how we two alone of all immortals fared hardly round about Ilium for Laomedon.”

“So you would fly Far-Darter, and hand victory over to Poseidon with a cheap vaunt to boot. Coward, why keep your bow thus idle?-”’

I’d have no respect for myself if I were to quarrel with them because of a pack of miserable mortals-

‘But you already have, and what good did it do you?-’

Ares fought to oppose Athena; Aphrodite intervened for Paris and Aeneas.

I cared for the whole of Troy.

I went before their horses to smooth the way, carrying the Aegis, the Achaeans were afraid. I gifted great strength to Hector, the shepherd of my people, as he gladly sped forward, killing all that stood in his way. I destroyed the Argives’ wall as easily as a child that kicks down a sandcastle on the beach.

Nothing escaped my gaze, for as long as they fought on the plains, Ilium’s walls stood tall, the Greeks frustrated and in a daze. Not even Patroclus could get in, as I beat the helmet off his head, and undid the fastenings of his corset, his shield falling down to the ground.

I was not helpless; I am not useless, and I do not regret a single act.

‘If you believe this to be so, then why do you feel the need to say all of this? Whom are you trying to convince?’

…who else?

I think the answer is obvious.

#Apollo #Iliad #Trojan war #greek gods #greek mythology #Not sure what i just did #soliloquy???#Well it is what it is #MyWritingShit #idk #experimental

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khadij-al-kubra · 6 years

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Persephone & Hades AU...

For your consideration, and bearing in mind that the original myth is not really all that toxic at all and is not a show of Stockholm syndrome...

The “””Kidnapping””” of Persephone:

Logan as Hades-

Bespectacled Ruler of the Underworld

Takes his job very seriously (wears a black and blue necktie with his long silky black robes)

Cold pale skin and intelligent grey eyes with slicked back black hair. Looks scarier and meaner than he actually is. (although he can have a bit of a temper if pushed and will have loud sharp outbursts of “FALSEHOOD!”)

Very logical and methodical in how he rules the underworld and keeps the souls passing through organized. Like he’s got the judgement thing down to a T! But despite his cold demeanor he’s actually very generous and kind at heart. He just recognizes the importance of his work and in remaining just yet impartial

Sucker for dogs, hence why he has a three headed one. He just wishes he had more time to play with Cerberus, but alas ruling the dead alone takes up a lot of ones time.

Has a sweet tooth and often indulges in jams made from the pomegranates that grow in his realm.

Is on decent enough relations with his brothers (Emile as Poseidon and Deceit as Zeus), although he STILL thinks that Deceit cheated in their straw draws, but let it go because he’s actually best suited as the more organized brother for ruling the dead.

Is secretly very lonely. Once in a blue moon he’ll sneak up to the surface for fresh air and sunlight. One day he spots a certain someone in a flower field who takes his breath away. (can you blame him, i mean that smile! )

Patton as Persephone-

Supreme flower child! (flowy sky blue clothes, grass green eyes, sun-kissed freckly skin and wheat colored curls, barefoot, flower crown)

Loves gardening, animals, and helping his father Demeter (Roman) with the changing seasons. Loves Roman to bits....He just wishes he wasn’t so overprotective. Like come ON dad, i’m a grown god, i can look after myself. I don’t run off on my own THAT much!

Is protective and loving towards most all forms of life and tries to see the good in each and every soul, both mortal and god/goddess #momfriendtothemax

Unless given reason to feel otherwise. Then...weeeell at the least he’ll give you a stern talking to but at worst...lets just say you DONT want to get on the bad side of someone who can grow massive and sharp thorn bushes and effect earthquakes when pushed too far. XO

Sometimes gets bored with the same old routine with Roman and wishes to get away and see something new from time to time. Maybe have some quiet time to make his own floral crafts and garden peacefully for fun and not work.

Often sneaks off when Roman is busy and goes wandering along dirt paths, sit under or climb a tree, or frolic in the flowers.

Roman as Demeter -

God of the Harvest, but like, EXTRA in all ways shape or form. (”we can top last years crop no problem, MORE WHEAT STALKS!” “No dad, we can’t, then there’ll be too much in this region and not enough for the next.” “LONGER SUMMER!!” “No! Bad idea dad! That’ll throw the seasons off”)

Often dresses in flowing gold threaded and sunset colored robes, but will change ensemble to match the seasons.

Enjoys watching the goings ons of the mortals, they’re just so entertaining! Especially is fond of traveling thespians and will bless the harvest of wherever they perform in.

Loves his son more than anything and has him help in godly duties because it keeps him close so he can keep an eye on Patton MUST KEEP PRECIOUS BAB SAFE!!!

Stubborn (but will never own up to it)

Virgil as Charon-

In charge of Ferrying souls across the River Styx

Doesn’t mind his job all that much but is #done with soooo many of these complaining, noisy and often rude or entitled souls. (like, NO dude, i don’t care who you were ruler of in the living world. Its two coins for passage like everyone else buddy!)

Really just wants a nap (often tries to hit up Remy a.k.a. Morpheus but he shows up late ALL the time)

Is actually very compassionate and gentle. He tries to ease the fears of souls who he sees are younger or were genuinely good in life or died in unfair ways.

Lives for the dark skull & bones aesthetic

Master of snark

Plays chess with Logan when either of them have some rare down time

Click the cut for full story

One day Roman and Patton are off doing their nature godly duties, and Roman is nagging his son about the proper way to harvest corn. (”Yes father, i know how to do it. you’ve only told me like a hundred times” “well i just want to make sure to remind you and that you don’t cut yourself on the sickle”)

Patton sneaks off one day to pick flowers since it’ll probably be the last bloom before autumn sets. Suddenly he sees a curious crack in the ground and ambles over to it to take a look. (”what sort of creature could’ve made this deep thing?”) He leans in too far however and pulls an Alice in Wonderland.

Turns out that crack was made by Logan. Apparently he’d become so deeply smitten by Patton that he went to his older brother Deceit/Zeus for advice. (Yes he was a dick and a little shit at times-although took his duties seriously when need be-and tricked many of his lovers into bed, but Emile didn’t have nearly as much love experience as their elder brother & Logan was desperate)

Deceit had actually been pleased when his too serious brother told him that he’d fallen for the spring god. His advice to Logan had been to simply kidnap Patton and either bed him then woo him or woo him and then bed him. Logan, of course, didn’t listen because that was the stupidest idea ever! (”what under earth was i thinking? This is the guy who turned himself into a cygnini in order to copulate with a woman behind his wife’s back.”) Besides, he was too painfully shy and socially awkward to try wooing. (He worked with the dead for crying out loud, not the best circumstances for practicing social skills)

He did however create a crack in the ground so he could sneak peeks at Patton from below the earth and admire him from afar. However, he’d been called back on an emergency and forgot to close one particular crack up before leaving again.

So sufficed to say, he was fairly shocked when he suddenly heard screaming above him one day. He looked up to find one Patton falling towards him and just caught him in his arms in time. (BLUSH CITY ON BOTH PARTS)

Patton thanks Logan but is admittedly miffed at him when he learns Logan was the one who’d made that crack in the ground. “What were you thinking leaving a big hole in the earth like that? Some poor oblivious mortal or animal could’ve fallen into it and gotten hurt!” “Apologies I-it was a foolish oversight on my part. i-I certainly hope you are uninjured?”

After a while Patton forgives him when he sees how truly sorry this (admittedly) scary and stern looking god is. (lest we forget he’s one of the big three) And Logan is honestly just trying not to show how flustered he is. i mean Patton is there in his realm! They both realize the crack is far too high up for Patton to get back out through right away. So Logan offers to have Patton stay in his palace until he can fetch his assistant Virgil/Charon to help Patton back up the next day. IN HIS OWN QUARTERS, OF COURSE! Logan says blushing, trying to be a gentleman. Patton agrees, promising upon Logan’s request to only follow one rule: “You must NOT eat anything”. Strange, but okay. Besides, it’ll be nice getting a break from his father. And it’s just for one night, right? (WRONG!)

Patton ends up having to wait longer than he realized because both Logan and Virgil are super busy with ferrying and judging souls. So he wanders around the Underworld. (of course he is marked with untouchable safety from almost everything as a guest of Logan)

One night however Patton finds himself stumbling upon a sparse garden. He’s surprised that anything is capable of growing down there in the realm of the dead, but even more shocked by the poor state of it. “Really, just look at the se rose bushes. They’re so brittle!” (it’s not Logan’s fault. He’s a busy boi. plus the god of the dead doesn’t exactly have a green thumb) Really the only thing flourishing down there is a single Pomegranate tree. The fruits on it look so red and shiny and juicy and...well...whats the worst that could happen if he eats just a few seeds?

Of course if you know the myth, it means now Patton cant leave. Because, well, greek god realm rules. Sufficed to say, Patton is pretty miffed that Logan hadn’t thought to tell him why he shouldn’t eat the darn fruit in the first place. Logan is greatly frustrated at Patton because a) he didn’t listen, and b) he actually has a point there and he does NOT like being wrong. Still, nothing to be done about it now.

Over time they cool off and apologize to each other. Patton’s still kind of mad though because now he can’t go home at all if he wanted too, but he recognizes that Logan wasn’t forcing him to stay on purpose. So he get’s over it and tries to make the best out of the situation. At least he can finally get away from Roman’s nagging for a while.

* Meanwhile in the living world, a frantic and angry Roman raises hell. “WHERE IS MY BOOOOYYYYY?!?!?!?!?!?!?” (Thebes did not have a good crop that year)

While in the Underworld Patton starts talking to some souls, listening to their stories and offering kind and comforting words. Which as it turns out makes them more at ease and willing to go for judgement as they pass on. Logan’s fondness for Patton grows as he witnesses these acts of compassion and kindness. He also comes to respect Patton when he sees just how fierce he can be in the face of those who’d been cruel or unjust in life. ”I’m sorry, you did what to how many people!? and NOW you’ve got the nerve to demand entrance into Elysium young man!? Logan, hold my flower.” “Fret not Patton. I have your bougainvillea.” (art link for this scene)

Meanwhile Patton cant help but notice that, although he’s stern and serious on the outside, Logan is actually a very gentle god deep down. (he picks up on this from the soft tone of Logan’s voice as he speaks to souls being judged who’d suffered in life, or the way he reassures the more anxious ones with facts and logic about the afterlife that set them at eases “it’s not all punishment and Tartarus you know. Statistically few souls on the grand scale are malign enough to enter there. The Asphodel Meadows are quite pleasant, I assure you.”)

Logan works so hard and tirelessly at his often depressing job, but never acts mean or harsh unless a soul is nasty or rude or was truly evil, and Patton gains an admiration of him for that. (besides, he is actually quite handsome and beautiful in a cold distant way, like the stars and moonlight on a midsummers night) Patton also sees what a softie Logan can be when he’s playing with Cerberus. (”Who’s my excellent tri-headed canine? Who is a good demon dog?”) Patton gushes and of course Cerberus and Patton LOVE each other. Watching Patton play with the big dog becomes Logan’s newest favorite thing. (”By the gods Virgil, it is too precious to process!”)

Sometimes Patton will keep Logan company when there’s a lull in souls. He’ll tell Logan about all the different places he’s seen and what mortals are like when still alive. Logan meanwhile will often go into rants about the fascinating bits of knowledge he’s accumulated over the years from souls who’ve lived full lives. Logan enjoys having someone who enjoys listening to him (not that Virgil isn’t a respectful listener, but Logan sometimes wonders if he only does is because he’s his boss) And Patton really likes being able to share his own opinions and ideas without condescendingly albeit gently being told, (“no, no, my silly sweet boy. This is the right way to do it. Now eat your cereal, you need the fiber sweet pea”) Having picked up some of the mortal’s sense of humor, Patton is very much a fan of word play and LOVES making puns. Logan is...less than amused by them. However, the first time he makes Patton laugh with a clever quip (about Virgil or one of the more disgruntled souls) he swore the whole Underworld actually lit up. He treasures every time he can make that precious god laugh and smile.

Heck, even Virgil warms up to Patton and actually becomes VERY protective of the spring god. Patton sees through to his anxious softie center and enjoys talking to Virgil who is a very good listener. Meanwhile Virgil finds Patton’s sunny disposition refreshing and his warm presence calming. Patton will often keep Virgil company, but can’t always bring himself to follow when he has to ride across the River Styx. The memories and voices coming off the water just make him too sad.

Virgil ends up playing wingman for Logan. He tells Logan how Patton’s been a bit down in the dumps and recommends Logan cheer him up with a present. “That is an excellent idea Virgil, but what? What could possibly be good enough for that sweet honeysuckle?” “Well you’ve spied on him enough times- and don’t try to deny it boss- what does he like?”

Sufficed to say, Patton LOVES his surprise underworld garden that Logan had worker rigorously on creating for him. He knows it couldn’t have been easy. Of course, being the god of the dead, Logan cannot maintain the garden and Patton is more than happy to have free creative reign over it. He giddily catches Logan in a big hug, and is pleased when a blushing Logan returns the heartfelt embrace, pressing a tender kiss to Patton’s forehead. Then he takes a blushing Patton’s hands in his.

”Patton, my honeysuckle, sunshine of my heart...I cannot contain it any longer. For so long you’ve been the object of my affection, but over the course of our time together down here, although the circumstances had been less than idea, my love for you has only deepened. Would you perhaps...although I am not worthy of you...would you consider marrying me, and ruling the Underworld by my side?” By now Patton is blushing like crazy and in tears because, although he’d been mad at Logan for getting him stuck down there at first, he realizes that he’s come to deeply love the dark god too. Logan worries that he’s crossed a line but then Patton beams and looks up at him with tears in his eyes. “Oh Lo-lo, my brilliant beautiful lobelia blossom, I-” BAM!

Cue a properly pissed off Roman crashing down to the Underworld. He’s also got Deceit/Zeus with him by the ear. “AHA! So THIS is where you’ve been keeping my precious boy!” “Deceit, you told him!?” “He got it out of me. Sorry, not Sorry. I may be the ruler of the gods, but Roman is quite -ow- convincing when angry.”

Roman rushes over to Patton and they embrace, because although it was nice having time to himself Patton did miss his beloved father. After Roman fusses over Patton-“Are you alright? Are you hurt? have you been eating properly?” “yes, yes, i’m fine father. I promise!”- Roman unleashes verbal hell on, well, the god of hell. He reprimands Logan for kidnapping his son, but Patton quickly comes to Logan’s defense saying that it wasn’t his fault and the whole thing had been an accident, not a kidnapping. When he hears the whole story Roman does calm down a bit, and is admittedly happy to see Patton so happily in love as well. (he may be a helicopter parent, but the god of the harvest is quite the romantic at heart and loves seeing Patton so happy. Even if he doesn’t think the doom and gloom Logan is good enough for his precious little sunflower)

But upon finding out about the pomegranate sees he practically begs Logan to release him so that Patton can come back to the land of the living with him. (besides, he does still need him to help with the seasons and crops) Logan apologizes, saying it’s impossible and there’s nothing he can do. He just doesn’t have that kind of power. Then all three hear Deceit clear his throat.

“Ahem. God of gods speaking, and if you’re all done blubbering, i may have a solution.” So he tells them that there may be a loophole he can work around. He’ll give Logan his blessing to marry Patton, who will also be allowed to go back upworld with Roman, but on the condition that Patton spends part of the year co-ruling the Underworld. He tells them that for the number of pomegranate seeds that Patton ate, he’ll be obligated to spend a month with Logan. “Well darling, how many seeds did you eat?” They all look at Patton expectantly. Technically Patton only at 3 seeds, but heckitty heck, he really wants more time with Logan than three months. And frankly, he enjoyed the idea of getting some time away from Roman too, bless him but he cannot face so much nagging again!

He lies and says six. Only six seeds. Because it’s not like anyone was there to see him or could know. Weeeell maybe the all seeing god of gods, but Deceit just winks and smirks at Patton, pressing a finger in secrecy to his lips behind Logan and Roman’s backs. So it’s agreed that Patton will spend the summer and spring half of the year in the Living world with Roman and the fall and winter half ruling the Underworld with Logan.

Before he goes back up with Roman though, Patton and Logan are wed. It’s Logan’s first and only time back to Olympus (he forgot how bright and noisy it was up there!) and all the greek gods and goddesses bear witness to their union. Even Virgil is granted a short vacation to be the witness of honor for his two favorite immortals. As it turns out the months apart end up being good for Roman as well as Patton. He gets a lot more work done now that he isn’t constantly fretting (actively anyways) over Patton or keeping him out of trouble or from wandering.

When they consummate their marriage for the first time, hoooboi! Logan’s so bashful but respectful (never having been with any other being before, mortal or immortal) and Patton thinks its adorably sweet. Having been topside, well, lets just say Patton snuck off every now and then when he could to “frolic” with a few naiads and mortals he found sweet or lovely. So he ends up being a thorough teacher to Logan. Turns out they’re quite compatible in more ways than one ;)

Patton ends up being a fantastic co-king of the underworld. Heck, he’s even incorporated the new job into his aesthetic (he always wears a crown of flowers and bird skulls in the Underworld) and, as it turns out, can be even scarier than Logan! Only when some foolish soul makes him mad or gets on his bad side. So none do. And with the souls being more behaved it takes the pressure off of Virgil and Logan a LOT. But for the most part Patton remains a sweet, kind and benevolent co-ruler to the dead souls, and balances out Logan’s stricter judgements quite well. Logan now has a bit more breather time to read and play with Cerberus since he’s not the only one in charge of the whole Underworld anymore. And he and Patton LOVE spending time together in Patton’s dark yet flourishing underworld garden!

Patton is always so happy to go back to the Living world with Roman when winter’s over. Of course he hates leaving Logan and misses him. Logan doesn’t do a very good job of hiding his sadness and tears, but understands. He does get a bit clingy their last nights though. (he becomes a kissy snuggly fiend) Virgil always promises Patton that he’ll take care of Logan while he’s gone. But Patton is a child of the earth and he does tend to miss the sunshine and his father. So he get’s back to work with a newfound exuberance, making the flowers grow, spending time with Roman and frolicking about the world. He always does his best to bring back a new scroll or star map for Logan, who treasures every gift and is slowly building a library for himself.

Sufficed to say, the decades pass by, Logan and Patton attentively fulfill their godly duties, and remain happily and devotedly in love with one another.

Tag List: @altruistic-skittles @thekeytohappiness-is-you @canadian-crofters@icecoldparadise @the-pastel-peach @justisaisfine @bluebloodstains@purpleshipper @patchworkofstars @axyzel @hissesssss @beautifully-terribly@pink-and-purple-flowers @jynxlovesluck @thatsanswitch @6tick6tock6@hanramz-the-fander @azlinne @helplesscreator @thestoryofme13 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @accidental-sanders @moonstone-fox @smokeyrutilequartz@phlying-squirrel @madly-handsome @puns-and-patton @notveryglittery@eequalsmcscared @safesandersides @lizziepopanime @anxiously-unsatisfied-world @ab-artist @unikornavenger @queer-human-being @grey-lysander @asofterfan @fangirltothefullest @tinkslittlebelle @allsortsofgeekery @fuck-my-life-i-want-food @ironwoman359

#KDsWriting #Persophone&Hades AU #logicality #sanders sides #sanders sides au #Logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #persephone #Hades #sanders sides fandom #famders #greek gods au

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xkatgrey-blog · 7 years

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I don’t normally rp on tumblr so here is some info from jcink rps where I’ve wrote as her in case anyone is curious:

The personification of beauty itself is the Goddess of Love, Pleasure and Desire. Born off the coast of Cyprus when Cronus castrated his father Uranus, she is the oldest of the reigning Olympian Gods and predates human life, even time itself. She emerged fully formed, without having had a childhood. When Olympus discovered Aphrodite, the Gods threatened to tear the world apart in possession of her. So, she was given to Hephaestus, the ugly god of fire and forgery, with whom she could pose no threat for the moment Zeus first lay eyes on her he knew and understood how dangerous love could be and that union between her and War or his ambitious brothers could never be allowed to happen. It did not stop her, however from seeing pleasure and love outside her bedroom and falling into Ares’ arms time and time again.

FRIENDS //

Aphrodite: More often than not, Aphrodite has frenemies rather than real friends. Her spiteful and vain behaviour can be off-putting to many. However, it is possible for Aphrodite to have genuine friendships and once she is your friend, she is fiercely loyal and protective. But that is, of course, if you can get to that point. Many don't.

Katherine: Kat doesn’t have many friends, at least those that are girls. Her vanity and self-confidence have always repelled other women around her. There were the catty girls jealous of her beauty, and the tomboys whom could care less about appearances that dismissed as her a vain Barbie. But though filled with love for herself, Kat (and Aphrodite for that matter) is a little bottle of sunshine. She’s friendly, bright and seems to light up every room she enters. She’s fun-loving and mischievous, always down for making trouble. Kat is a doting and caring friend once you take the opportunity to befriend her.

Aphrodite: Anyone who says they're prettier than her. and she's serious about this. She was instrumental in causing the Trojan war simply because wanted to be named the prettiest goddess on Mount Olympus. Another time she cursed the mother of Adonis to bed her own father all because her father said she was prettier than her. In the original Beauty and the Beast tale, Cupid & Psyche, she asked her son to make Psyche fall in love with a beast as punishment for men saying she was the second coming of Aphrodite. So, say that to her face, at your risk, she won't let it slide and you will face consequences like being impregnated with your father's seed because that's how she rolls. She is not a Goddess you want to be on the bad side of, her epithets are Tumborukhos Gravedigger and Androphonos, Killer of Men and her origins are as a war goddess.

Kat: I’m sure Kat attracts a lot of ‘hater’s she won’t apologise for loving herself, being confident and being sexually free. She probably has a long list of bitter ex-lovers.

LOVERS //

Aphrodite: Aphrodite's sole function is to make love so it's really easy to add your name to this list. She embraces sexual freedom, desire and sex. She is not a monogamous with many on Olympus being her lovers and father to her children including Ares, Hephaestus, Poseidon and Dionysos. She rarely engages with sex with mortals who aren’t trained in the art of love as they’re usually a disappointment as a single kiss from the Goddess of Love can be enough to make them come undone. As well as lust, she loves. Aphrodite's entire existence is unbridled love so it's easy for her to fall head over heels. Once she falls in her love, her love is eternal and she would do anything for those she cares about. For those wishing to court, a relationship will have to realise that she can never be solely one’s person.

Kat: Like Aphrodite, Zayna embraces sexual freedom and has always had a higher libido than her partner. She’s experimental and enjoys sex, the fun of it, the games, the desire. Despite that, she rarely if ever, engages in casual sex. Not because she feels there is anything wrong with that but whatever happened to the art of seduction? A drink in the club and “let’s fuck” doesn’t cut it for Kat. Even when she doesn’t want love she wants chemistry and hands and mouths desperate to touch each other. So, most of her sexual interactions have always been serious with love involved. Kat has no gender preferences and she often loves several people at a time

Previous post as Aphrodite: (my posts here won’t be as long lmao but just in case you want a feel for my writing.)

“Does he?” Aphrodite questioned playfully, unable to deny the alleviation to her ego at his acclamation of her beauty. She always revelled in every descriptive to her beauty, never shy nor humble. And there was no reason why she should be; she was the most beautiful woman to ever draw breath. It was she who defined the very meaning of the word, not these new, upstart Goddesses. Mortals and the undying alike fell in love with her at first sight, worshipping at her feet. The slaves that chose to serve her all willingly offered themselves to her, they loved her so.

The thought that Hera or worse, that wretched Athena would dare to believe themselves more worthy of the title was an outrage. What did either of them know about the art of beauty? It could not be denied that either of them was pleasing to the eye, but none of them knew the ways of love and beauty like her, she who had dedicated her life to its idolatry. Athena knew only of politics and warfare and Hera, who enchained herself to Zeus, could not know beauty as she. Perhaps her schemes, the lengths that she was willing to go to to keep her title as the most beautiful may be seen as superficial and trifling to Ares but to her, it was not, hence her need to be declared to the most beautiful Goddess.

Beauty held the joy and meaning in life. Beauty inspired the words of poets, impassioned by their lover's grace or nature’s artistry. Beauty was the artist’ brush, the paint upon the canvas. Beauty gave life to bard’s scrolls, gave birth to the knowledge that Athena so coveted. And it existed only by Aphrodite's influence. Athena and Hera were driven by vanity; she was driven by given right. To let either Goddess take what was owed to her, even knowing it was nothing more than a ploy to create discord by Eris, would have been subjugating herself to either one of them, allowing them to claim what was hers by right. Them, fledgeling Goddesses, offspring of Zeus and Cronus.

Aphrodite was near primordial, born from nature’s sea and the castration of Ouranos, primordial god of the sky, created before time itself. The audacity of either one of them to insult her so was a slight that she could not have ignored, as much as heart beat for Ares. She had already lowered herself by joining Olympus, bowing her head down to Zeus and his wife Hera, to follow their command as her sovereign. She had enchained herself to Hephaestus, she who was born to be as wild and free as her mother, the sea, unmeant for the entrapment of marriage. All of which she had done to have Ares, even if only in the forbidden way that she could. Offspring of Ouranos immediately made her an enemy of Zeus to be cut down and killed. He and his children had slaughtered all of her siblings in their usurpation of the heavens. She could not have had Ares, without first making a public declaration of subjugation, to rid herself of her unfortunate Titan association. Hers had been joining Olympus and kneeling to Zeus and Hera. But she could allow no more. She loved him. But wars came and went, civilisations fell and from their ashes, others rose. Sparta and the Achaeans would be defeated but they would recover and rebuilt. She would not lower herself for one nation, even one beloved by Ares.

“Tell me, what is it you like about her?” Her fingers gently traced circles into his cheek as she smiled flirtatiously, desiring further praise. She took his hand, with her other, bringing it to her lips, “Her lips?” She licked one of his fingers and enclosed her mouth delicately around it, sucking on the digit, as she might the appendage between his legs before moving his hand further down. She extended her neck, guiding his fingers slowly down the length and to the back, shivering slightly at how sensitive her skin was there. Exposure of the neck, nearly always, aroused a man. It was strange, not an overly sensual place one would assume, not as obvious as the breasts and below. But it was because of its rarity, really seen behind hair and dress that exposing the neck could be a subtle means of seduction. Not that man knew anything about the art of seduction; they thought to strip themselves of all their apparel was enough. She knew better, “Her neck?”. Her voice was low, breathless, desirous.

“Too stout, perhaps? Gaia has crafted prettier necks, I’m sure.” She drew her hand lightly across her neck and collar bone, seeking his firm denial and insistence as he so claimed that he would give that there were none more perfect than hers. She lowered herself to kiss his lips before drawing back, raising herself so a sitting position so that her entire form was on display for him. She gently pushed her long hair back, before taking his hand and moving it slowly up her torso until it groped her breast, “Or, her breasts? Do they please you?”

It was likely that Hera and Athena would rain fire to her favourite mortals if they could hear the words that she spoke in praise of Ares’ beauty. But regardless of whether she named Ares the most beautiful creature, above them and even herself, that was inevitable already. Both would join with Sparta, their fury at Paris and her impassioning their desire to see Troy fall. And while Troy may not have have been one of her favourite cities, her son, Aeneas was a Prince of Troy. Her son was already at risk by them, incurring their wrath further could no more harm, “I can, I dare them to try,” She argued playfully with her lover and her fingers delicately, slowly, began to trace his muscles, as if in worship of his beauty, “I cannot bring my tongue to make false noise and lie about the glory of your beauty, for the sake of mortal lovers or cities” She held him, above all things.

She smiled when he touched her cheek with the palm of his hand, every gentle caress from her love was always to be appreciated, particularly when he was war, not built for gentle touch. It made it all the more special, all the more sacred to her and she leant into his palm, closing her eyes for a moment, “Then anyone who claims to see differently is without sight. It is truth that guides my words, not love.” She protested earnestly, eager to insist on his beauty, although she knew it a truth that love always tended to make the receiver look more beautiful to one’s eyes. But that was not what drove her words, his form was perfect, of that she was sure. None others she loved were more beautiful than her, only him.

And she could only worship him and offer him the world if he would take it. They could possess it together; him, her beautiful warrior conquering lands and leading battles, and she, his beautiful Queen at his side. It was not as if she was being entirely sacrificial by offering him the chance to station his legions his Cyprus so that he could take other neighbouring nations. She stood as much gain by his victories. They would be shared victories after all. Cyprus was renowned for its navy. She could lend them to Ares’ efforts, “You will win.” Aphrodite insisted matter of factly as if convinced of Ares’ inability to lose at war. Her fingers softly ran through his hair, “There is no risk I would not take, no outcome, that I would shy from, to please you. And, my love, I have the ambition of my own, it could be a joint endeavour.”

But talk of conquering the world was delayed. Apollo’s servant interrupting them from their shared bliss. She did not want to discuss the impending war just then. She wanted to stay in her lover’s arms, share ambitions and desire before feeling his touch on her again. It was not as if Sparta would have their forces in Troy by the ‘morrow. There was a great span of land and sea between the two regions, plenty of time for them to prepare war strategies only after they had at least spent a day in the each other’s embrace. Could they have that at least? But evidently, not. Apollo’s servant stood firm, demanding his response from the Goddess of Love until he’d finally heeded her dismiss, but not before loosening his tongue in War’s presence.

Apollo's words having the effort she had feared as Ares instantly drew away from her, dressing himself in his armour, his sword returned to him, “You are leaving?” She asked before she would respond to what he had said. His anger was not completely without cause, her purpose had been to seduce him to side with her and Troy, but she would not have gone so far as to distract him while his city succumbed to plague and death. As blurry as the lines sometimes became when the two were at opposing sides, she knew that there was a line and she could not hurt him so.

“I seem to recall that it was you who initiated our lovemaking.” It had been him who has pressed her to the wall first and said how much he wanted to fuck her. She did not allow her temper to flare, “do not act like I tied you down and forced you to lie with me for so long.” And before he could claim that she was aware of the stakes and developing war while he was not, she continued, “Nor were you ignorant of this war developing, you chose to spend hours fucking me while Sparta and Troy always held the potential for ruin.”

And as for the temptress remark. She raised herself from the bed and walked over to him, her hand lightly tracing the handle of his blade, “I cannot wield a weapon such as you, I fight with the only weapons I have available to me.” She could not lift a blade or throw a javelin but she had a weapon of another sort, her beauty. Most of her lovers were warriors or great men, whom she could influence through seduction to do as she desired. She could conquer a nation in a single night, a single glance, shorter than battle or war campaign that he could surely do, “I will not deny that I called you to me with the intent to ask for your alliance in this war, but I would not have used myself nor you in this way. My love for you, as you say, refuses me to do so. You are my equal, not a mortal or lesser God to be manipulated for my desires.”

“My son is a prince of Troy, and to side with Sparta would dishonour my promise to Paris, I cannot change my allegiance, that was already predetermined, though it grieves me deeply to move against your city.” She would not side with the land that would result in Aeneas’s death. She was a fierce protector of her children, demigod or immortal. She always loved them ferociously, even willing to sacrifice her life in an attempt to ensure their safety. Her children, she loved as much as she loved Ares. They were her heart. She would have to protect her son in this war, with her life, if need be.

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