Wise men would say that the gods were cruel. Wise were also the men who built temples in their honour.
The thing with Immortals is that however much humanity looks them in the eye as they judge us for our number of sins; their own outnumber ours.
So, why are they held in such extreme positions as members of a group of powerful beings?
Power.
Humanity's one fatal flaw is hubris. Hubris leads to wrath and wrath ends up in the battlefields of war.
And war is destruction.
And destruction is death.
And all of that is caused by the simple power moves of dictators in a room with a map of where the enemy lines lie.
The constant power battle between victor and victor leads to the ultimate destruction of both sides of a never truly worthy war.
Such is humanity's power.
What about immortals? They were cruel and ruthless and knew not of eternal love or such fantasies that mortals dream of.
They were icons of our own creation: beings that governed the world by laws that replicate our own just to put the fear of gods in us.
Such is the gods' power.
One such god now sat with one such mortal asleep on his shoulder. One such sinner gazed down at another soul that would be tainted by his touch.
This sinner knew not of love no longer. He was famed for his affairs of the heart and arrows of Eros constantly guiding him to tragedy.
He didn't want that for her.
He had waited, waited for millennia to get a chance with his one true love.
And she had died- at his own hands.
She had died there and then- her blood seeping into his softened hands.
She had died and along with it died a part of him.
That part that knew of love. He knew that no longer.
This sinner killed with his touch. He knew that well. He was no longer governed by the laws of men and the gods but cruelty and vengeance.
In his hands rested the fate of the world- and he would destroy it if she didn't walk on it.
What was the point of it anyway?
He knew how his fairytales turned tragedies always go. He'd kill them and then mourn for a century and find another one to curse.
He swore to stop- to stop letting himself fall in love with another after she had died.
He did that. He didn't fall in love- there were affairs of the body not his heart any longer.
But when she came back- when she came back everything changed.
He changed.
He changed for her ; his hands may be forever stained with blood and his sins but to her they would seem to be full of sunshine and poetic prose. Not hubris. Not wrath.
He changed for another chance.
He changed for his own good.
He changed for her.
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☆｡LEGENDARY｡☆ | apollo |
Fanfictiona story of how the most dangerous thing is to love OR a story in which Ashlyn Roy needs to figure out what to do with her life... but her fate has been written in the stars and up on Olympus, Aphrodite starts to pull strings | apolloxfem!oc | • th...
