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hadesfangsmoon · 1 year

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A Greek Tragedy

Fresh Water and White Quartz

The palace was made of quartz and stone, wide tall and white pillars on either side of the entrance. A large sloping roof above the entrance, covered in vines. There was a large intricate pattern of quartz on the floor that led to the door and behind that door is where the throne of the king lay.

But there was an open hallway before the door of the Kings throne room, the walls made of pillars as it allowed in natural light. Northern guards every were you looked in this hallway of pillars that led to the kings entrance. It was a very open area, many servants sat on the quartz stairs. Speaking in whispers and fond giggles as they walked.

The ocean crashed against the rocky ledge of the beach not too far from the clean palace. Letting in the fresh sea breeze and the strong smell of salt and warm sand.

The palace sat on top of the tall mountain, a ledge on the left side of the palace. Leading to a steep drop to where the ocean was, full of sharp peaking rocks and shallow water. The entrance to the kings throne room was simple but grand, covered in lushes green vines and plants, and rough with sharp rocks. It wasn’t the safest place to build a palace, but it was the prettiest place to put it.

He stood not to far from the front of the large palace doors, it was piercing and intimidating, made of wood and well-shaped metal that was made to last. Quarts and white stones that were shaped into oceans and sea nymphs around the door, telling a story that many could tell you by heart.

He would complain it was a long way to get to the palace, the steps too many for his liking but the charm of the place made up for it. But not for all of it. The quartz was smooth under his leather and worn shoes, he wasn't one for wearing shoes mostly barefoot and free. But his father had insisted he wore shoes, he sighed at the uncomfortableness of the leather that rubbed at his pale skin, leaving bright red marks on his flat and slim feet. The sun burned his sensitive skin, leaving his skin pink and uncomfortably dry. He winced at the mix of discomfort on his body, his hand rubbing at his red and freckled shoulder.

“Are you alright My Prince?” Mumbo asked, formality dripping in every word he spoke. It was weird, Mumbo hadn’t called him ‘My Prince’ in years. A puzzled look replace Grian's irritated face and Mumbo chuckled.

Guards and servants stood behind him and Mumbo. Holding gifts of ‘appreciation’ from his father, the Guards, and servants wouldn’t stay with him. He was not a king, but Mumbo would stay. He was Grians chosen companion, he had to come. He will admit it would be lonely without Mumbo, he could not leave him with his father and The Palace to keep him company.

Keeping himself busy with new projects and barely leaving his workroom and forgetting to take care of himself. A thought Grian hated. He took a deep breath and sighed “Yes I am fine, shall we enter?” Grian looked at Mumbo, his face still and flat. The black-haired man nodded and Grian walked in front of him. His movements were strong and held purpose, his hands behind his back as they walked to the door.

Grian watched as the Guards of the northern opened the door to the palace. Their spears were shiny in the slow sunlight, a soft green fabric tied to the bottom of the socket of the spear. The shaft was smooth and shiny with wood oils that cost more than the shoes he wore. Their armor made of thick and well carved leather, thin pieces of metal shiny on their leather armor. The doors opened and the warm smell of wood and flowers filled his senses.

The intricate pattern of quartz led his eye to the throne. The king in his late 40’s sat on the quartz throne, Gold and silver clashing with his mortal skin. He was covered in animal furs and jewels of many, his hands and neck shiny with gold, and his body dark and broody with animal furs. His hair was white and eye dark, the other covered with a scar, he looked wise yet clever.

The king stood out on the white and gold throne. ‘It was not made for him’ Grian thought as he looked into the king's eyes. Soft rugs layered the floor of the throne room, rugs meant for messengers when they spoke their news to his feet or desperate people who came to grovel at his feet for help or money.

The kings face held a look of mischievous and remembrance, full of old stories full of adventure and war. His posture was straight and strong, ready for Grians entrance at any moment.

“Prince of Opus, son of King Menoetius who is a son of King Actor of Opus. We have been expecting you, please come forward.” The king’s voice boomed throughout the room, his hands raised as he spoke. His arms were strong and tan, his voice commanding and strong like a General ready for war and bloodshed. Grian bowed his head and Mumbo fully bowed.

“I thank you on behalf of my father and myself, I’m glad that I can learn from such a respectful king. I’ve seen the kingdom and it's impressive, I wish to rule like you.” Grians words were sweet but not desperate. Respectful, and mindful as this king was known for disliking the desperate and stuck-ups. The king smiled and Grian walked forward, Mumbo walked not too far behind him their steps strong but cautious. He stood in front of the king, his chest buzzing with anxiety.

The five Guards and Six Servants walked behind them, the Guard's steps heavy and the servant's hands full of precious woods and soft gold's. “We have brought gifts out of appreciation and gratitude. Please, take them.” The six Servants placed the precious woods and soft golds on either side of the king's throne, the golds catching the sunlight and the wood’s shining with their expensive oils. “I take the gifts and you with open arms. “The king hummed and looked at Mumbo.

“I see you have broughton a chosen companion,” Mumbo quickly straightened up and kept his eyes facing the floor. “Y-yes, I am Mumbo Jumbo. I hope you do not mind my presence.” He spoke, his voice still formal but strangled and nervous. Grian would have laughed at him, but he was nervous as well, his throat tight as he waited for an answer from the king. “We will be sure to get him a room,” he looked at one of the servant girls near the entrance of the throne room and nodded.

“Now please I have someone I want you to meet.” The king spoke, and two northern servants from the king's court moved two thin and white curtains, these curtains were behind the king to his right side. The curtains where loose and very delicate, long as they laid on the smooth quartz floor. There stood a man,he wore a peplos which was uncommon for a man to wear but it fit him well. He couldn’t see him clearly, still behind the thin curtains as the king spoke. “This is My Son Scar, born from a Godess of the ocean.”

Once the prince stepped out Grian could hear the soft murmurs of his servants and guard fill his ears as they looked upon the demigod. Grian looked at the kings right side to lay his eyes on the prince, and his body shook with loud whispers and old memories as his eyes widened.

‘Him’ his heart spoke and the fates sang, the start of the underworld’s fire flickering in his soul as he stared at the half-Nymph. ‘Him’ it whispered as all the breath in his lungs was taken away. He was the one. Grian could not deny it, the gods had said so.

His tan skin glistened like the ocean on a sunny day, his wonderful green eyes reflected the rivers of the forest, his exquisite curves that shaped like the waves on a beach. His face soft and height tall, giving him a strong yet young look. Grian couldn’t explain it but he was perfect. To every line on his body and wave on his dress. Scar was perfect.

To perfect for Grian. He had a sharp and short-built body with a soft round face. His eyes were as black as the goddess Nyx's domain, his pale skin unkind and red. Face always wrinkled in stress and seriousness. His hair was frail and dark blonde yet framed his face perfectly. But he was not like Scar, of course, he wasn’t. Grian laughed at his own stupidity, Scar was a half-nymph, and he. He was only mortal, and Scar was a demigod.

Scar stood there, the perfect image of a Demigod. Hair as free as his youth, and face free of any stress. His neck was adorned in gold and soft oils. Hair shiny and smooth like a waterfall, Grian wished to touch. The prince smiled at him. His face split like water as he smiled at Grian, his smile as warm as a spring stream. “It is nice to meet you Prince of Opus.” His hands folded over one another as he stood next to his father’s throne. Grian felt like he was on another plane of existence as he stared at the prince, the king's words muffled in his ears as the king talked.

There was a sharp pain on his foot as he looked down. It was Mumbo, his foot digging into his toes, Grian sighed quietly and listen to the king's words. His eyes moving back to Scar, he watched him as Scar talked to a brown-haired woman.

“You will be seeing a lot of him for I will be teaching you both.” Grians head snapped up at those words, “I expect you are tired we shall eat later, so there is no need for a long introduction now. Please let one of my servants take you to your rooms, and your servants and guards will be sleeping in my servant’s sleeping quarters for the next few nights.” Two servants and a guard came from the left side of the throne briskly walking towards Grian’s servants and guards. One servant from the right side of the kings throne, the woman Scar was talking to.

“T-Thank you My King your too kind!” Mumbo bowed yet again, Grian quickly following after, his head tilling into a bow. But his eyes trailing back to Scar as he did so. The prince smiled at Grian for one last time before leaving behind the thin white curtains, a young brown-haired woman stepped in front of him and Mumbo, swiftly bowing. “I am here to show you to your rooms.” Her face was covered in freckles and her eyes were hazel and bright as she looked up at Grian and Mumbo.

She stood up and straighten her posture, “Dinner will be done in two hours, for now, the King and Prince suggest you rest up or look around the palace. You will be here for a year or two, so you might as well get a head start of remembering the palace.” The woman’s words were formal but teasing in a way. “Now follow me. ” The women steps were quick and precise as she led the way, her words filling in the awkward silence.

“You will be seeing me often for I am the personal servant that was assigned to you, request from the prince.” She had a spark in her eyes as she spoke, her voice full of command, Forcing them to listen to her every word.

“Then shall we have your name?” Grian asked finally regaining consciousness, Mumbo huffed and made eye contact with him as they walked behind the Servant. Mumbo gave him a look of ‘We will talk about that later.’ Grian sighed and gave him a smile asking Mumbo to ‘Give him a break’ and Mumbo rolled his eyes. Grian had won this time.

The servant in the red dress took a quick turn to the right as she started to talk again, “I am Pearl, you shall be seeing me every morning, noon, and night before meals and you can find me in the woman’s servant quarters.” Her accent was heavy in away, different from other northern Greek accents. Pearl stopped at the beginning of a hallway.

Two doors and an archway at the end of the hall, a dead end. “The room on the right is for your chosen companion and the room in the middle Is for you, My prince. The archway is where the beaches are and grass fields are where the soldiers and guards train. More information about your classes and the palace will be discussed over dinner.” She said and bowed, her red dress complementing her dark freckles. Pearls peplos was long and simple, her hair was held back with a piece of ribbon, and seemed to be the head of the servants. But Grian wasn’t sure yet.

“No that will be all, Thank you.” Grian looked at Mumbo questioning him, but he shook his head, “Alright,” She looked at the both of them, her hazel eyes shining with something neither Mumbo nor Grian could put their finger on. “I will grab you two for dinner later.” And walked off, her steps dull under the cold quartz. Grian hummed at the cool sea breeze, the now-setting sun warming his and Mumbo’s faces.

The sky was orange and yellow, leaving a kind hue on the quartz pillers. Mumbo listened to Pearl's steps, making sure she was out of earshot. He turned and stared down at Grian, Mumbo’s face concerned but disappointed as he looked down at Grians tired and nervous face. Mumbo frowned as Grian said nothing, his silence the only answer to Mumbo's unsaid question. Mumbo Huffed again and sighed. Defeat slowly washing over Grians face.

“Now, are you going to explain yourself?” —

(I originally had this idea on @bluiex blog.)

Yes, Grian and Scar have the same kingdoms as Achilles and Patroclus. This looks smaller in here then in my Words Doc lol. I was in a weirdly good mood this week. I’ve got a Scar and Bdubs scene in the works.

‘No Face’ Haley Heynderickx

Words: 2096

#scarian #fanfic #greek mythology au #Mumbo is here #Scar is in a dress #I got some weird motivation writing this. It was very interesting.#greek tragedy au

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