The Taste Of Divinity

Ε Ν Τ Ε Κ Α

After he abandoned Hera on the sunless patio, Aidoneus returned to the grand hall. Anger painted lightnings on his veins, making them jut out against the jagged, battle worn flesh. He'd left the fragments of his heart behind, ashamed to admit that he still cared, that he still hadn't learned.

He cut through the sea of bodies, barely grazing a hand or two as he did. They stepped back, lowering their gazes as he passed. Whether it was out of respect or fear, could not be said. And it did not matter. Not for him. He cared for nothing other than satisfying his greed.

The imposing figure sitting on the throne of gold caught his eyes and immediately dropped his signature smile. It seemed that his intent was written plainly on his sharp features, on the strict line of his carved lips, on the muscle twitching on his jaw, on his protruding veins and golden eyes.

The lights flickered and the music stopped abruptly. Apollo's spirit returned to his body the second the notes slipped from his grasp and he opened his eyes. The smoke that had dulled his senses dissolved. He'd felt the tension in the muses' aura and the strain in their touches. They whispered to him, with voices that trembled from fright. Was it their voices that trembled or the earth? Hades could not answer, lost in his frustration as he was.

Perhaps, hours later after he'd gotten what he wished, he'd lie restless on his bed and remember that moment and the fright he'd caught in those parted mouths and realise that he had been the one responsible. Perhaps, the memories would never cross his mind and dreams would crawl to him, instead. Peaceful dreams for once, perhaps.

Dreams of her and the glistening lips he hadn't yet kissed.

Dreams of the moment when she'd lie beside him on his bed and welcome him into her arms, naked and utterly spent.

Yes, perhaps he'd dream.

"Father-" Apollo opened his mouth to complain, oblivious to the havoc surrounding him but Zeus, the loud-thunderer, held up his hand and stole away the protest, stole away his voice. Frustrated, Apollo turned to leave, the fragile, pale fleshed girls running after him, their long himations catching on their bare feet and almost making them trip onto the marble.

It was not long after that act, that the mighty King of Olympus ordered his subjects to clear the room. And they did, scattering away like leaves taken by the wind while the infernal King stood unmoving, tall and proud as a cypress tree.

"Not you, Ganymede." The silver haired man called out once the room started to grow empty, his loud, baritone voice booming across the Palace walls. "It's not every day my brother decides to grace us with his presence. Fill a cup for him and then you may leave."

"There's no need," Aidoneus objected, noticing the Trojan prince standing quietly in one of the dark corners, holding an oenochoe and obediently pouring its contents into a kylix. "I don't plan on staying for long."

"Nonsense." He waved his hand, dismissing his words. "If you had time for Hera and her tantrums you can spare a few moments for me."

Moments later the kylix, filled to the brim with nectar, sat in his palm. He did not drink from it. He merely moved the contents of the cup around, observing the golden trails left behind. They reminded him of spilled ichor and the colour of Persephone's hair as it was kissed by the glowing sun.

Even now, he thought soundlessly, she haunts me.

During the whole exchange, Zeus remained quiet focusing on his brother's wandering eyes, waiting for something to leave his lips while wondering what the voices living side his head whispered to him. It was peculiar, the patience that had taken over him. Zeus had never been patient or quiet. The stentorian roar of his laughter alone brought earthquakes and his fury thunderstorms. When he loved, the skies gasped and cried out. Even as a child, when his survival depended on it, he still cried and scream, provoking his fate. And yet, now he sat lifeless, the jewel of a temple carved from ivory and draped in bronze and gold.