#and I am Hera's aunt so I thought this was fitting

[your-1up-girl]

Once Upon A Dream (Hera x Ventus)

Uhhh....okay so this wasn't supposed to post until the 31st but I must have gotten the queue wrong soooooo. Have an early gift.! I dedicate this fic to the very lovely and absolutely gorgeous @sammilimyy! Why do you ask? Because it’s her birthday (I'm early sorry)!!! I was so inspired by your royal/fantasy AU with Hera and Ven that I just had to write a fanfic for it. Now this is basically inspired by a certain movie from a certain company that shall not be named out of fear they will take this down, but if you know the song then you know the movie. I hope you like it Sam (and I hope that I got it on time for your b-day) have a happy and wonderful birthday!

Word Count: 4339

Pairing: Hera (OC)/Ventus (Kingdom Heart)

Warnings: Nothing but pure fluff! I hope you have a good Dentist Sammi, cuz this thing is gonna give you cavities!!!

It was happening again. This dream she found herself in was coming to her with much more frequency now. Always in this dream, Hera would find herself wandering through a forest where the birds graced her ears with beautiful melodies and the way the light filtered through the trees was practically angelic. In this dream, she would always wear a tea-length dress so it would not drag against the soft grass and dirty the pristine fabric. Said dress was adorn in mute yellow skirt and bodice with pale pink trimming and a bow in the back. It flowed with grace as Hera continued barefoot down the unmade path. A path she has taken several times before.

At this point she would reach a clearing where the trees created a canopy of sorts and the brush and wildflowers bloomed and grew with no outside interference. Standing in the middle of this clearing was a figure. It always looked like the spirit of a young boy. Someone who Hera would guess was about her age but taller than her. He had spiky hair and clothes that looked different from that of what she had seen in the nearby villages of the kingdom. As he turned to face her, she could see the phantom of a smile on his face but never his actual features. Soft music would fill the air as they approached each other and they began to dance. The soft whips of his fingers held her waist as they twilered and glided across the grass. They could never speak to each other but they could laugh. And Hera thought his laugh was better than any orchestra in the world.

Despite never speaking to this boy and only sharing these dances, Hera had fallen for this mysterious stranger. It was a dream, but in her heart, it all felt completely real. This boy was out there. At this point, after they had their dance, the music would end and Hera would wake up to the knocks of her Lady in Waiting telling her to start the day; but this time was different. For just a brief moment, when Hera looked up and faced the spirit, she could see him. It was still in a ghost like form but his features were there and she took it all into memory. The bangs across his forehead, the goofy yet loving smile he wore, and most importantly the shadowy blue eyes that looked back at her. He had never appeared tangible to her once during these late night rendezvous but after seeing him in this apparariton form, Hera knew. She was completely in love.

Hera woke with a start in her bed. The sudden movement had scared her Meow Wow Polly and her friend Naminé who was drawing the curtains to let light enter the room.

“Your Grace, you’re awake.” The Lady in Waiting spoke once the initial shock faded. “I knocked on the door to wake you, but you didn’t respond. Then, when I came in, you had the most peaceful smile on your face that I didn’t want to wake you just yet.”

Hera held her heart as Naminé spoke, remembering the dream once more. “Did you have another dream about him?” Naminé sat on the bed next to the princess as Polly let out a small whine and cuddled back into her owner.

“Yes, I did. We danced like we always do. But this time,” Hera paused as her smile became more giddy, “This time I saw him, Naminé.”

Naminé wore a similar smile at this development, “Really! That’s wonderful Princess. What did he look like?” Hera adjusted herself on the bed so Naminé could begin taking her hair out of the braids she wore to bed.

“Well, he still looked like a ghost of sorts but his facial features were there and not just a blank face. He had the most beautiful blue eyes, Naminé.” A love-struck sigh left Hera’s lips, “It was like looking into the night sky itself.”

“You are absolutely smitten with this boy. Do you think he’s real?”

“Why else would he appear to me in this dream? And remember, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him.” Hera got out of bed and walked out onto the balcony. She leaned on the stone railing and gazed out into the horizon; her nightdress flowing in the early morning breeze. A sigh of doubt escaped her, “Naminé?”

Her Lady approached, “Yes Princess?”

“Answer me honestly, please. Do you think that boy is out there? Am I foolish to think that he could exist?”

Naminé’s eyes softened at her friend's sudden realization that this could all just be a dream. She held Hera close and spoke, “I think that in a world where magic exists and mythical creatures are a prominent part of our lives, having recurring dreams about a mysterious boy is calm by comparison.” This made Hera laugh, “I think he’s out there my Princess. If this truly is love that you feel, then you will both find your way to one another.”

After that, the day continued on as normal. Naminé helped Hera get dressed for the morning. Hera went to her lessons with Eraqus, the king. His lessons involved looking after the kingdom when she eventually came to rule. She had Keyblade training with Young Master Riku, Naminé would always remain close by during these lessons as the Lady in Waiting was very smitten with the Keyblade Master. And on this particular day, she ended her training with Master Aqua. The sworn protector of the Princess, Aqua specialized in magic and was well versed in wielding a Keyblade. She would teach Hera about combining magic into her basic attacks. However, Aqua took notice that Hera was not as focused as usual.

“Is there something bothering you Hera?”

“Huh? No Master Aqua, what makes you say that?” Their keyblades dissipated into the air signalling that they were done for the evening.

“It’s just that you haven’t been as focused as you should be during your lessons. And it’s not just with me, the King has noticed you’ve been more aloof with your teachings. Merlin has taken notice as well and so has Riku.” Hera hung her head in shame, should she tell Aqua about the dreams and the young boy? No, surely she would think the Princess crazy for looking into something like dreams. And falling in love with an apparition whom you don’t even know the name of would get her a lecture from the King. Hera couldn’t come up with a response quick enough but Aqua took the silence as something different. “You seem so worn out. Maybe you haven’t been getting enough sleep?”

At that, Hera’s head shot up, “Yes! Yes Master Aqua, that’s exactly it!” The sudden change in demeanor startled the blue haired Master from her train of thought. “I’m just so tired as of late Master Aqua. I think it would be best if I went off to bed now even. I had my dinner sometime before training so I’m not hungry.” Aqua blinked a few times. Hera seemed...excited to go to bed? It was an odd development in her attitude for sure but it seemed to be an improvement to what it was before so Aqua let it slide for now.

“Of course Your Grace, I’ll send for Naminé to meet you in your chambers to assist you for the night. Sweet dreams Princess Hera.” It was hard for the young girl to contain her excitement and Aqua could have sworn she heard a whispered, They will be as Hera passed.

Naminé carefully brushed Hera’s hair in the large bed of the royal chambers. Both girls wore their nightgowns and were discussing the events of the day. Polly sat comfortably in Hera’s lap, listening just as intently as if she were to join the conversation at any moment.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were paying extra attention to Master Riku’s lessons today.” Hera jested with her best friend; a smirk proudly displayed on her face.

“At least one of us was.”

“Hey! Naminé!” The Princess turned to push the blonde girl as they both laughed in the empty, fire lit room. “He likes you, you know.”

“Oh please, I’m just a maid, he wouldn't like me.”

Hera thought about this for a moment as Naminé worked an intricate updo into the Princess's hair for the night. She could tell her friend was discouraged by this separation of class so she tried to lighten the mood, “If he rejects you, I’ll have him beheaded.” Naminé nearly choked on her own saliva and snorted out a laugh. Having accomplished her mission in making her friend laugh, Hera joined as well.

“As kind as that is, please Hera, don’t kill anyone on my behalf.” Naminé was grateful for the joke and Hera enjoyed the lack of formalities with her best friend. The conversation continued in this matter but before Naminé got up for the night, Hera asked her a question.

“You want me to draw you a picture?”

“Yes, please, if it’s not too much to ask?” Naminé, not wanting to refuse her friend or the Princess, took a piece of parchment from the desk, some graphite, and a flat board to give her some stability and joined Hera back on the bed.

“Alright Hera, what is your request?”

“I want you to draw the boy from my dreams.” Big, pleading blue eyes met confused blue ones as Naminé took in what Hera asked.

“I-Your Grace-Hera, you know that I don’t know what he looks like, yes?”

“Oh, I know. That’s why, you’re going to sit next to me and I’m going to watch you draw as I describe him to you.” Hera grabbed the pillow next to her and made room for her friend and tapped the spot. A small smile adorned the Lady’s face as she made herself comfortable and ready for the long night ahead of her.

~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, in the outskirts of the Kingdom, some yards away from the borders, a young farm boy sat upon the roof of his home looking at the horizon as the sky changed from warm tones to cool blues and the stars greeted him for the night. He came to look out into the sky when he needed to clear his head. And after having a busy day of training, fram work, and running errands, Ventus was in need of a small break. Not to mention that this moment alone gave him some time to think about the spirit girl he saw in his dreams. At first, Ventus just blew it off. Strange dreams happen all the time, take ‘em with a grain of salt. But then, she kept coming back, the same girl, in the same forest, with the same dress, and the same beautiful smile. God that smile. It was barely noticeable with the form that she took in his dreams but Ven was in love with it nonetheless.

He chuckled to himself. There I go again, Terra would have a fit if he could hear me. Falling in love with a forest spirit just because she danced with you in a recurring dream was ridiculous. Right? Ventus sighed and ran a hand through his hair, groaning when he had to pick more sticks out from when he fell herding the animals earlier. That girl made sleeping more exciting yet also somewhat frightening. Why did he see her all the time? Was she some sort of nymph? Was she even real? Would she love him back? And, why did he feel such disappointment if the answer was no? He didn’t even know this girl, and yet? Ventus put his hand over where his heart would be and gripped that part of his shirt. This girl had his heart and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“Ven? Ventus? Where are you?” Terra stepped out of the house to call for the young boy. It made Ven laugh just a bit. No matter how many times Ventus escaped to this spot, Terra never thought to check there. “Come on Ven, you’ll never get to be a royal guard if you don’t get a good night’s sleep!”

“And you will never be a detective if you don’t think to check in the obvious spots for the suspect.” Terra turned to see that Ventus was in fact, on the roof. They both shared a laugh and Ven made his way down. “If you keep yelling then you’ll wake the Tama Sheep and the Electricorn.” They both made it back inside the house and Ventus sat with a warm tea Terra had made. The young blond sat and stared at the tea with a look that was both focused and unfocused all at once.

“Hey Terra, do you believe in love at first sight?”

The brunette sat across from the boy and pondered the question, “I think it’s possible. I think that if someone really is the one then you’ll just know.”

“Hmm.”

“You thinking about your dreams again?”

“Yeah. It’s always with the same girl. She comes to that forest, doesn’t say a single thing to me, just laughs, and we dance. They’re getting more frequent and-” Ventus paused a small smile creeping onto his face.

“And?” With raised eyebrows, Terra waited for a response.

“And...I saw her face.” Ven couldn’t hide the smile or blush at this point and Terra’s eyes widened, not expecting that to be his response. “It was all ghosty and weird like the rest of her but I could see her eyes and the way they had so much life to them. I saw her and I just fell for her, Terra. Even more than I already am in love with her.”

“Does she look like anyone you know? Maybe it’s someone from the marketplace?”

“No, her clothes look different from that of the marketplace or even from the nearby towns. I could be wrong but they kinda look like a type of nobility.”

“Wow, look at you; dreaming about a Duchess.” It never crossed either of their minds as they drank the tea that the mysterious girl could have been a princess. Terra listened more to Ven’s recounting of dreams as it got a bit later. An hour had passed and the tea was all gone and both boys sat at the table trying to figure out what to do about the spirit girl.

“I think you should go talk to a woman who goes by Fairy Godmother. No one knows her real name but she is really good at figuring out people’s dreams. She lives on the far side of Traverse Town near the kingdom borders.” Ven listened closely. “If anyone can help you out, it’s her.” It was discussed that Ventus would take one of the Yoggy Rams and travel there tomorrow morning.

By early morning light, Ventus did just that. It was a long ride but not too tedious. Around mid-afternoon Ventus arrived at Traverse Town and began asking for this Fairy Godmother. Some people lead him to the back of the town where, in the middle of a water well, there was a house that was similar to that of a doll’s but less childish. Ventus carefully walked over the rocks with his Yoggy Ram to the front door and gave it a pensive knock. He waited no more than a minute when a kind looking older woman answered the door. She smiled at him like she was his grandson and enveloped him into a hug.

“Oh hello young man, it’s good to see you. Please, please, come in. Let your Ram drink from the water around my house. I don’t mind. I just prepared some warm milk if you would like some.” Fairy Godmother brought him into the quaint living room and he lifted the milk to his lips taking a sip. It tasted faintly of vanilla and hazelnut; it made Ventus smile. “So,” Fairy Godmother sat across from him in her own plush chair, “How can I help you dear.”

“My friend told me that you could help me with my dreams?”

She lightly laughed and placed her tea cup down, “Yes, he is correct; dreams tend to be my specialty. Tell me everything my dear.” Ventus did just that. From the smiles, to the laughs, and all the joy he felt in between. When he finished, he sat anxiously for the answer. “Hmm, this sounds like a very special girl.”

“She is Fairy Godmother.”

“But you have never seen her before?”

He hung his head, “No I haven’t Fairy Godmother.”

“And yet you’re in love with her.” There was no malice in this question and she asked knowing exactly what his answer would be.

Ventus sighed, the milk long finished as he searched for his answer, “I-Fairy Godmother, I know it sounds crazy to love someone you have never met but, my heart tells me that she is someone who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t have much to give. I am a stable boy who is training for a guard position and doesn't have much control of his Keyblade yet and I can be kinda naive but I love her. More than anything.”

The Fairy Godmother smiled at his answer; it had exceeded her expectations. “That’s even better than what I had expected you to say.” She stood up and went to a bookshelf and handed him a map. A map of the kingdom more specifically. “You see this area?” She pointed to an unnamed forest that was about halfway to the castle and his ranch. “There is no name on the map but people call it The Somnium Forest. It’s a magical forest where people go when they need help in their lives. They say that it feels like time stops when you enter and no one leaves the forest unsatisfied. The inside of the forest, they say, never looks the same for one person.” She held Ventus’ hands in hers, “Tomorrow young man, I want you to go to the Somnium and walk around for a bit. I’m sure it will help you with your dreams.”

Ventus wasn’t sure how a forest would help, but he was willing to try. He gave the Fairy Godmother one last hug and left with his Yoggy Ram.

Returning to the castle once more. Hera walked around the grounds with more disdain than usual. Why? She didn’t dream about the boy. His picture was carefully placed in her tea-length dress pocket (courtesy of a very late drawing session with Naminé) but having the paper wasn’t the same as seeing him in her dreams. It had only been a day and yet it was enough to put her in an upsetting mood. It was to the point that she didn’t want to hang around the castle anymore. That was how she found her way to the library asking Merlin for his map of the kingdom.

“Any place you want to go, in particular Young Hera?” He asked with his usual chipper tone.

“No, just want to explore, get out for a bit.” Hera held her head in her left hand as her right hand grazed over the different locations of the map, pointer finger out. She could go to the castle town? No, that was far too close to home. She could go to the outskirts and explore the hills that acted as the land border on the west side? No, if she was gone for too long Aqua would have a fit. Her eyes noticed a forest and that peaked her interest. “Merlin, what’s this place?”

He adjusted his glasses, “Ah! You mean The Somnium Forest? It’s a place where dreams come true as they say.” He takes a sip of his tea, “People go in there and not one person leaves upset. Forest is magical.”

“A magical forest?” Hera could use some more magic in her life. And even if it wasn’t, having the comfort of a forest setting could give her some semblance of her dream. “Thank you for your help Merlin, could I trouble you to watch Polly while I’m gone?”

“Oh it would be no trouble at all Princess! I love the little thing after all. Come along Polly, let’s see what potions I can make to help Aerith in the garden.” The Meow Wow and the Wizard walked in tandem as Hera packed the map and made her way to the stables. As much as she wanted to leave with no one’s notice, the brunette unfortunately ran into Aqua.

“Oh Princess Hera, why are you heading to the stables?”

“I just wanted to take my Pegaslick and explore for a bit. I’m not sure when I will be back so can you tell Naminé that she has the rest of the day off? Maybe tell her to have some sweets with Master Riku.”

“Princess, by yourself? Are you sure you don’t want me to join you? I could quickly-”

“No, Master Aqua, I’m fine.” Hera didn’t feel good about brushing her Master and protector off but she needed to go to this forest. It was calling her the same way her dreams did.

She got to the stables and had the royal stable boy Prompto helped ready her Pegaslick. “The reins are all good, Your Grace, enjoy your ride.”

Hera took off after a quick thank you and without a second thought. It was difficult to ride while holding the map but after an hour, Somnium Forest greeted her. She got off the Pegaslick and decided to walk the remainder, her companion close to her side.

Upon entering, the Princess did feel different. There was a strong happiness that washed over her. The fresh smell filled her nose and the grass seemed so soft that she took off her riding boots, hanging them on the saddle and continued barefoot. Eventually, Hera found herself walking deeper into the trees but she couldn’t find it in herself to worry about getting lost. A part of her knew that she wasn’t. In fact, the way the trees and flowers created a path. And the light through the trees. Her dress flowing in the soft breeze and the birds. It all made her stop to pinch herself.

“This has to be a dream.” A whisper that she barely heard left her lips but the muzzle of her Pegaslick acted as a reasurace that this was all real. With a new found fervor, Hera kept going.

On the other hand, Ventus was having the same feeling of déjà vu; only he bounded into the forest with reckless abandon. All these trees, flowers, and rocks he rode past were familiar to him. And as he approached a clearing, he knew this was the moment of truth.

They stared at each other on either side of the clearing. Both shook with excitement but neither moved out of fear of breaking this perfect scene. Ventus had to get off his Yoggy Ram but his eyes never once left hers. Carefully, they approached and once they met in the middle?

“You-are you-?” Hera couldn’t speak. So overwhelmed with joy that he stood before her as a flesh and blood person and not just some apparition. Rather she took out her drawing from the dress pocket and held it up. “It is you.”

Ventus held her face and she leaned into his touch. He wiped a tear that fell from her eye and nodded his head. “The boy from the dreams? Yes, that’s me.” Hera dropped the picture and hugged him. Her arms around his middle and his holding her head into his chest.

“I thought you weren’t real. I thought the universe was playing a horrible trick on me.”

“I promise I’m real. My name is Ventus, and I have wanted this moment ever since that first dream we had.” The dropped drawing was retrieved and put back into her pocket.

“Ventus,” What a beautiful name, “I am Hera. Your voice is so wonderful! I’m so glad to finally hear it!”

“The Princess? I’m so stupid for not recognizing you sooner. I must say Hera,” Ven brushed her hair behind her ears, “The dreams don’t do you justice. I didn’t think there could be a blue more clear than the sky, yet your eyes puts it to shame.” Hera blushed and smiled, wiping some tears from her cheeks. “There is just one thing missing to make our dream a reality.” Hera tilted her head. What more could they want? “There may not be music but, may I have this dance?”

He was right, no music played in this forest, but Hera happily accepted his hand as they moved across the grass. The laughter sounded even better than any of the nights they shared.

Off behind the trees, Aqua watched with the purest expression. Against her better judgement, she followed the young Princess to see if she was alright. Once she saw Hera with this young boy she knew everything was fine.

“So, you followed her I’m assuming?” Aqua looked and saw Terra approach as he went to the spot next to her.

“Yes, and I take it that he is yours?”

“Yeah, less ‘mine’. I’m more of his friend slash guardian.” They watched the kids dance and laugh and converse in the clearing. Terra broke their silence again, “Ventus, he’s training to be a royal guard.”

“Is he now?” Aqua smiled as she knew where this conversation was headed.

“Yes, I’m just a stable boy like him but I did undergo some training as well. I teach him everything and he is a very fast learner. I don’t want to overstep my boundaries but, perhaps the Princess could use another personal guard?”

Aqua laughed and didn't take her eyes off of the lovely couple as, "Yes, I'm sure Her Majesty would love that."

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

The Trouble With Love Is

(A Darren x Jeanie prequel)

Warnings- oral sex (f!), fingering, infidelity, swearing, mention of alcohol use

A/N- Jeanie succumbs to temptation on her wedding day From the winter prompts "I’ve been waiting in this cafe for twenty minutes and am fully prepared to fight you over that peppermint latte." and "drawing in the frosted glass" requested by @magic-multicolored-miracle and character chosen by @neuroticpuppy GIF by @vousnavezrienvu

To Hera, wherever you may be 🦚

"My kingdom for a fucking peppermint latte. Chocolate. Peppermint. latte. With a hint of Irish cream. It's so bloody expensive sending shit over here, and I've already been carrying Gordon since we came to university five years ago."

"Ye didn't pay for this posh shite did ye?" Trish applied Jeanie’s makeup.

"No.. John Boy did. You know he's dating Gordon and the Treacys' aunt."

"Jaysus. Well best not think about it now. Too late you're about to say I do. Darren will do it though.”

“What?”

Get you that latte. He's dying for a wank every time he sees ye!” Trish teased. “He's only been getting hard a few years now, and it's all for you.”

“Fuck off! What about Roooosie?” Jeanie dragged out the name with an exaggerated Irish accent. “Ever since she's come ‘round Darren's not given me another thought.”

“Oi! Someone’s jealous!”

“Don't be such a cunt!” The bride took a makeup brush and dusted her friend's face with it. “Help me put my dress on?”

“Shame we've got to cover up these knickers,” Trish made a clicking sound with her tongue. “If I ever get hitched t’Nigel, I'm going tits out. Total slag.”

Jeanie cringed while her friend helped her into her dress, “Nigel Delaney? Nidge Weasel?! You're so much prettier than that, Patricia. Why don't YOU shack up with Dazz?”

“Me?! No way, I like SOME meat on their bones.” Trish grabbed her crotch, “And Nidge has a real porterhouse!”

The girls fell into a fit of giggles and squeals. They didn't hear the young man slip in through the doorway. They too lost in obscene gestures while doing up the endless buttons on Jeanie’s gown.

“What's the craic?” Darren butted in.

Startled, the women screamed. Then laughed harder. “Jaysus, Treacy, give the bride a heart attack! Go on, turn around, I don't want any of you seeing this before I'm ready.”

Darren obliged for no real reason. “You alright? Need anything? Coke? Whiskey? To do a runner?” He sounded strangely hopeful that last bit.

Jeanie’s breath hitched in a way that surprised her. Then, “Actually there is one thing.”

---

Jeanie hugged herself in the frigid dressing room. Earlier, with Trish, she was so toasty from champagne that her body was numb to it. Now she noticed the ice that crept along the glass windows and cursed Gordon’s family for talking her into a winter wedding.

She also didn't want to wear her tartan or cape until the very last second, so she chose to shiver. The clock above her struck 4:45, the wedding was at 5. She began to regret tasking a 19 year old with an impossible mission.

Just then there was a rapid knocking. Jeanie jumped, startled, but found herself enough to let Darren in. She gave up on pretenses about anyone seeing her before walking down the aisle.

Darren caught one look at the bride and faltered. He nearly spilled the coffee he so carefully had made in town. Instead he handed it out to the young woman, his heart raced embarrassingly when their fingers touched.

“You fucking DIAMOND! What took so long though?!”

“Eedjit behind the counter couldn't understand coffee, peppermint syrup, and chocolate. I had to wait so long I thought I was gonna get in a bloody fistfight over this fucking latte.” His face sheepish, “Sorry we don't have Starbucks like in London or overseas. They also didn't have peppermint, so I thought of ginger and nutmeg.”

She opened the lid and sniffed causing her face to light up. “Ohhh, Dazz, it smells like Christmas! Like gingerbread.” She took a big sip, “TASTES LIKE IT TOO!! Thank you!” Jeanie kissed his cheek without a second thought.

The air changed. The atmosphere felt different. Time seemed to slow down. She whispered an apology, but Darren didn't protest. Even when she turned her back to face the mirror.

“Ye look like Guinevere with your hair like that.”

Darren deigned to speak in the weird sacred silence that fell over the dressing room. Without asking, he placed the crown of ivy and holly on Jeanie's head. His fingers twisted around the ribbons that framed her face and wild auburn hair.

Jeanie’s eyebrows seemed to knit together. She looked at Darren in the mirror. He was in the part of his life that suspended him between boy and man. His cheeks and jawline were soft, but his shoulders broadened and curved into muscular arms. Deceptive with his lean body.

“Will you be my Lancelot then? We’ll be the death and betrayal of King Gordon?”

Darren's ears pinked with embarrassment. He pushed his thick wavy hair off his forehead in what seemed like a cold sweat. The green in his eyes intensified the closer he leaned towards the bride’s headband.

“N-no,” he stuttered.

Jeanie smirked. “Dazz, I'm fucking with you. D’you think he'll like it? I did go for an Arwen or Ophelia look.” She bit her nail, “Suicide notwithstanding.”

“Then how about Queen Maeve?”

Darren straightened himself to his full height. He pushed his shoulders back with confidence while helping her belt the tartan around her waist. His hands dared to linger on Jeanie's hips.

The bride seemed lost in thought. She flattened her palm on the lower half of her stomach with eyes glossed over. Like a daydream.

“Maeve. I think I'll name my daughter that one day.”

Young as he was, Darren understood what that gesture meant. What it could mean. But Jeanie would've told Trish and Mary. Then everyone within 50 kilometers of Dublin would know.

Snapping to, with a cheeky grin on her lips and champagne that went back to her head from the coffee sugar rush,, “A queen surely needs help with her shoes. Why not bend the knee?”

Jeanie gestured to the shoes on the floor in front of her. Darren did as he was asked and bent down in front of her. He held the slipper in hand while using the other to delicately lift her foot up. She slid it in.

Darren did likewise with her other side. This time he took a chance by lowering his mouth to kiss the top of her foot before placing this slipper on. Jeanie didn't move.

He kissed her ankle and shin. His large hand curled around her calf. Just his fingertips traced along her skin to the knee where he pushed the fabric aside to reveal it. His lips followed, eliciting goosebumps that pricked her skin.

Jeanie bit her lip momentarily. Her own fingers on the back of Darren's neck combed through the hair at the nape of it. Her body shuttered, but she didn't protest.

Even when he found the plaid garter high around her leg. Darren slipped it down her thigh replacing it with his mouth. He sucked where it was most supple while he tugged her panties down to the floor.

Jeanie's head swam. She let him touch her, probe inside of her exposed sex with his fingers. Fingers that Darren pumped until she was wet under his movements. He moved quickly without really knowing what to look for.

“It's up towards the top,” she instructed. Her voice hoarse with desire while taking his fingers and moving them to her clit. “Just use one. Middle finger. I thought you did this before?”

“No one's shown me. I guess I just mess about. Want me to use my tongue?”

The younger man’s plaintive gaze seemed to egg Jeanie on. You're not married yet. I'm already on my knees for you, let me go down on you. Like a wedding gift. The bride didn't care. She should, it was cheating. But lately, the past few weeks, she became intolerably curious about fucking her fiancé’s cousin. She nodded.

Darren replaced his finger with his tongue. Hungrily devouring the hood of Jeanie’s sex. The tip teased her entrance and traced the slit slowly before it snaked towards the bundle of nerves just inside. He flicked his tongue between sucking again.

Jeanie’s balance was thrown off. She yanked on Darren's hair. He growled in reply, never ceasing his motions.

The woman’s mouth dropped open for the short bursts of air that struggled to become proper moans. She bucked onto Darren's face while he held on to her hips just above the ass.

He pulled her back and forth in a steady tempo that would surely leave him breathless. Quicker with his ministrations and Jeanie mumbled she was close.

Then in sync with a sudden knocking and Trish and Mary asking if she was alright and ready, Jeanie screamed out that she was cumming. Or to them, coming.

She did in that jolt of electricity and lack of guilt. She had only ever been with, loved by, fucked by, kissed, licked, fingered, fondled and touched by Gordon. Would for the rest of her life. She came in spite of herself, or despite.

“This can't happen again,” Jeanie let Darren know while she straightened herself out.

“I best go through the window,” he replied simply. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So the girls don't catch me.”

He scrawled something on the frosted window before climbing out of the window. He turned only to tell Jeanie one last time how beautiful she was, and Jeanie knew that was a loaded compliment.

He left a handprint on the glass and left to join the ushers.

-----

Jeanie hated this song. This bluesy, plaintive Kelly Clarkson song that had no place at her wedding. Still she draped her arms around Gordon’s neck. His hands reached down to squeeze a handful of her ass while they danced.

She laughed a little too loud. Took them and lifted his hold up to her waist. He tucked a curl behind her ear then kissed the lobe. He bit it playfully and the smell of whiskey filled her nostrils while he whispered sexual nonsense in her ear.

Jeanie’s heart raced. Goosebumps pimpled her arms and exposed skin. Cold from the drafty ancient building and turned on from the deep Scottish accent in her ear. She giggled now, cheeks and tips of her ears flush while they gyrated to the beat.

Gordon held her tight. Jeanie's chin came to rest on the crook of his neck which she softly pecked before catching Darren's over her new husband’s shoulder.

Her face became hot under the weight of Darren's gaze. Her mind strayed to earlier as he stood scrawling something in the frosted window of the frozen dressing room before walking away.

RUN AWAY WITH ME

I DON'T CARE WHERE

YOU'LL BE MÉIBH, AND I'LL BE YOUR SERVANT. AS LONG AS WE'RE TOGETHER.

Jeanie's eyes had focused on Darren now on the other side of the window panes. She wrote backwards as best as she could. Her body was still quivering from the adrenaline rush of getting off.

IN ANOTHER LIFE I DO. GIVE YOUR HEART TO SOMEONE WHO DESERVES IT.

But it always belonged to her. And five years later, Jeanie would give hers to Darren in return.

Tag: @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator @rob-private @frogs--are--bitches @messengeronthemoon @karinasmoonlight @maerenee930 @forenschik @bisexualnathanyoung @nightmonsters @falloutby @vonkimmeren @petrichorblue94 @love-is-dirty-baby @inspiremeandsetmefree @wasabimia

[stormyblue90]

Blessed by the Gods

A little oneshot featuring Kassandra and Brasidas and the birth of their first child

Tagging some Kassidas fans: @j3nnt @cafekat91 @frolickingangels @crimsonsun1030 @cogitoire @alethiometry

Warning: Childbirth mention. I know some people are uncomfortable with that sooo...

Otherwise, pure fluff. Also PHOIBE LIVES AU! May write another oneshot to tie into this...not sure yet...

Anxiety filled Brasidas' heart and mind as he paced, it only continued to grow since dawn. He and Kassandra had been expecting their first child and she'd gone into labor just before the first rays of Helios crept over the horizon. Quickly shrugging on a chiton he raced out of the house to wake the midwife and Myrrine.

Once they arrived at his home the old crone of a midwife immediately pushed him out as he tried to head inside. Told him to wait like all the other expectant fathers saying "men had no place" in such a situation. Brasidas tried to convince her, but the woman wouldn't have it. She had a stubbornness to rival most hardened Spartan warriors. Seeing this was a battle he unfortunately could not win, he was forced to stay outside and instead left to make offerings and pray to both Artemis and Hera for a safe delivery and healthy child. Afterwards heading to the training grounds to help train the young Spartan boys there, anything to keep his worries at bay.

However the distractions could only work so long, and other instructors took over, seeing how distracted he was. Brasidas desperately wanted to be by his wife's side in such a trying time. Hours had gone by and it was nearly midday. Kassandra's water had yet to break when he brought back the midwife and her mother, so he wasn't sure how long she would have to suffer.

"Worried about your wife and child?" an old voice said, bringing his anxious mind back to the present.

An elderly man, greatly resembling Brasidas with silvery hair walked over, accompanied by Kassandra's father, Nikolaos.

"Pater? Yes, no matter what I do I can't seem to shake off such thoughts." Brasidas answered. "I've made offerings to both Hera and Artemis that everything goes smoothly, and keep muttering prayers to them."

"Ah I was the same that snowy evening you were born as well." the man, Tellis replied.

"I believe I remember, you couldn't sit still and you were so impatient to return home and made several offerings." Nikolaos added. "Sadly I was away from Sparta the day Kassandra was born, but thankfully I was here for Alexios."

"And you were even worse than I was!" Tellis replied. "Do not worry my son, Kassandra is strong, as will your child be I'm sure of it."

Brasidas nodded, he knew Kassandra was exceptionally strong and undoubtedly so would their child, carrying on the powerful bloodline of Leonidas; however it still didn't quell his fears.

"I only wish I could be at her side. However the midwife wouldn't have it, said it was no place for a man."

"Ah yes, that sounds familiar. Short with pale green eyes?" Tellis asked.

"Y-yes, how did you-"

"Because I remember her. Doris was a young assistant to the midwife who brought YOU into the world. Said the same thing to me. Stubborn then, and more so now."

"That would explain her comment about 'helping bring me into the world so she could just as easily send me to Hades' as she shoved me out of the doorway."

The two older men shared a laugh at that. In truth were anxiously waiting as well, both about to become grandfathers, but still not as worried as Brasidas.

"Phoibe!" Myrrine called out, standing by her now exhausted daughter.

The young girl from Kephallonia, now a teenager and adopted by Myrrine, ran into the room. "Yes? Is it over? Am I an aunt now? Is it a boy or a girl?" she questioned excitedly.

"Yes yes it's over, now quickly go, find Brasidas, tell him everyone's fine and he can return."

Phoibe nodded, and glanced at the midwife and her assistants, busy cleaning, caring for Kassandra, and swaddling the newborns. Quickly she took off to find the general.

She sprinted down the streets of Sparta, Ikaros flying overhead. Phoibe had a few ideas where he might be and she already checked some, her next destination was the training grounds. She did however stop briefly on the way to confirm if any had seen him, and they did say they saw him head that direction.

Once she arrived she asked the soldiers if Brasidas was there and that she had an urgent message for him. Sure enough he was there and Phoibe ran towards the place he was said to be, ignoring the young boys who either called out to her or began to show off. Phoibe only rolled her eyes and their obnoxious displays. How many times did she have to tell them, she wasn't interested in boys; instead it was a few Spartan girls who caught her eye.

Finally she found him, speaking with Nikolaos and who she assumed was Brasidas' own father, judging by their close resemblance.

"B-Brasidas!" she called out, trying to catch her breath as she stopped, leaning over with her hands on her knees.

"Phoibe! Is everything alright? Kassandra! The baby, are they-"

Phoibe stood up and nodded, a huge smile on her face. "Yes! She's fine. They're ALL fine. You can come back now!"

All? Brasidas' eyes widened as he realized what she meant. Tellis and Nikolaos looking to each other, small knowing smirks on their faces.

"Better hurry back home then." Tellis told him as Brasidas glanced towards him, as if wanting confirmation he heard Phoibe right.

Immediately he ran back home, nearly stumbling either on his own feet or from other people in the streets. The crisp autumn air rushing across his skin. No matter how fast he ran he just couldn't return home fast enough. His mind racing with so many thoughts, even more than before now.

Finally, finally he made it back home. The midwife, Doris, who had shooed him out of his own house earlier stood at the doorway. She tossed a damp towel to him, hitting him in the face with it.

"Clean yourself up first young man!" she commanded, clicking her tongue, "You're covered in dirt and sweat and I will not have anyone so filthy hold a newborn!"

Begrudgingly he did as the old crone asked, wiping off the sweat and dirt that covered him. He already knew not to argue with this woman. Once she seemed satisfied, she nodded in approval and let him inside.

"She's been moved back into the bedroom." she said.

Brasidas quickly made his way to their room, heart still pounding from both his run and nervousness. He saw Kassandra, the most exhausted he'd ever seen her, hair disheveled and dark circles rimmed her eyes from a lack of sleep. She was laying in bed, propped up by several pillows, a wrapped white bundle in her arms, cooing softly. Myrrine was by her side, but back turned to him. It looked as if she was holding something as well.

Brasidas let out a nervous breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Myrrine quickly turned to face him and she and Kassandra both looked towards him, huge smiles on their faces. It was then his suspicions were confirmed.

His eyebrows rose and his eyes widened when he saw Myrrine hold a second bundle, this one wrapped in a red blanket. A second baby, twins! He and Kassandra had twins!

"Brasidas!" Kassandra called out, her voice so tired but so joyful as well. "Twins! Can you believe it?"

He walked over feeling as is if his smile reached from ear to ear.

"Time to meet your Pater little lamb!" Myrrine said to newborn in her arms as she stood up, gently handing the red bundle to him, making sure he supported them properly.

"Meet your daughter. Kassandra holds your son." she told him.

"Chaire little one." He whispered, gently stroking the newborn's face. "Pater's here."

Brasidas felt tears of joy prick his eyes as he held his daughter and sat next to his wife on the bed. Not just twins, but both a daughter and son, he hadn't felt so blessed since Kassandra agreed to marry him.

"Now I know why it felt like they were training for the Olympics whenever they kicked. And why everyone said I was bigger than other pregnant mothers..." Kassandra said.

Brasidas laughed softly, "Yes, carrying twins certainly explains everything. I still can't believe it."

"Neither can I." Kassandra replied. "It still feels like a dream and I'll wake up back on Kephallonia.

It was still too soon to tell who the babies looked more like, him or Kassandra. Only time would tell, but it didn't matter who they resembled, he was just happy both were strong and healthy. For now the twins looked identical, pink, and soft. Though it did appear both shared his eye color since their eyes appeared too light to have Kassandra's rich, dark brown.

Brasidas lifted the swaddled newborn, giving her a soft kiss on top of her head, already covered in thick wisps of dark hair, as was her brother's. She wiggled, reaching one arm out of the blanket. It was then he noticed something peculiar.

On the inside of her upper arm, looked to be a birthmark. As he looked closer, he noticed it resembled an eagle in shape. Fitting given Kassandra's famous title.

"Kassandra, look there." He said, gesturing to the mark.

"It... looks like an eagle." She commented. "The Fates clearly have a sense of humor."

"Or she takes after her grandmother." Myrrine added, she too had been born with birthmarks on her arm resembling the stars of Aquila.

"She's not the only one." Kassandra replied as she shifted the blanket around the baby in her arms, revealing the back of his left shoulder.

The little boy also had markings, but instead of an eagle, the marks seemed to make up the constellation of Leo.

"The lion constellation." Brasidas said. "It seems the Fates DO have a sense of humor. Perhaps it's a sign we should name him after your grandfather."

Kassandra laughed as she wrapped her son back up. "Perhaps you're right." Gently she placed a kiss on his head. "Leonidas."

"And our daughter? Like you she seems to bear the eagle of Zeus. he asked.

Kassandra thought for a moment, "Hmm... Perhaps... Zenais?" she offered. "It appears we have been blessed by the Gods."

"Zenais." Brasidas repeated, mulling over the possible choice for a moment, before smiling and nodding. "Alright, Zenais and Leonidas." He leaned over, kissing Kassandra's temple, whispering "I love you, ALL of you."

[agwitow]

Persephone’s Birthday

an excerpt from Born in Between, the short story version of Hades and Persephone’s marriage as it fits into my Legend’s Legacy series

“Persephone Kore Olympiad!”

The young woman running through the field flinched at the sound of her mother’s voice. She debated whether she could pretend she hadn’t heard or not, but quickly pushed the idea from her mind. It wouldn’t have mattered how far away she was. Her mother’s voice would always find her, wherever she was, in the Between. As much as she wanted to continue exploring the dream-shaped fields left by the mortals who brushed against the Between, she knew her mother simply worried about her.

Persephone let the world around her ripple so, that in a mere three steps, she stood on the threshold of her home. What had been a simple two-room dwelling that morning was now a sprawling, multi-storied mansion. She grimaced. That only happened when the other Olympians came to visit.

“Mother? You called?” She stepped inside and let the Between whisper the new layout of the house to her. A ridiculous waste of space with rooms for dozens of guests, three separate courts, and even private bathing areas attached to both the gynaeceum and andron. 

“There you are,” Demeter said, exiting from a small antechamber between the courtyard and a modest throne room. Her hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves, with flowers, sheaths of wheat, and twining vines scattered throughout the loose strands. Her gown was a rich green with golden stitching, and she wore a hammered bronze necklace with pigs and snakes depicted in such detail they almost seemed real.

Persephone’s heart sank. Such finery meant her uncles were coming.

“Where have you been? I told you we had guests coming for supper.”

“I thought I had time—it’s barely past midday.”

Demeter shook her head and the scent of sun-warmed dirt and spring rain on leaves wafted from her swishing hair. “It is your seventeenth year, my love. They will have gifts and well-wishes to bestow upon you. Before the meal.”

She sighed. “Why do they even need to come? This might be my seventeenth year, as we count them, but I’ve watched almost 500 mortal years pass by. I’m too old to be paraded in front of them like…some sort of pet.”

“Persephone!”

“It’s true, Mother. Simply because I might be mortal, they treat me differently.”

“They are not accustomed to thinking about death. It is…not easy for us.”

Persephone crossed her arms and pouted. “Everything dies, eventually. Even immortals.”

Demeter’s lips quirked up into a brief smile before pursing into a frown. “Be that as it may, you are a grown woman now. It would be unheard of to not celebrate. Though, I suppose I could let the cousins know we’ve decided on a smaller affair.”

“No, if my uncles are coming, then I’d prefer our cousins come too. Some of them make me uncomfortable.”

“Hades does have that effect on people.”

“No, I meant—”

Demeter cut her off with an apologetic smile. “We’re running out of time, my love. May I prepare you?”

Persephone blew out a huff of breath before nodding and closing her eyes. It was a strange sensation to have someone else bend the Between around her. When the uncomfortable tingles passed, she opened her eyes and gazed down at herself. Her gown was cut similarly to Demeter’s, but in a pale green with shimmering blue stitching instead. No heavy, hammered necklace encircled her neck, but her long golden-brown hair was braided and piled atop her head like a crown. She was sure there were flowers woven into the braid, but didn’t particularly care which kind, so she didn’t feel the need to go in search of a mirror.

“Ah, my darling daughter, I can’t believe how much you’ve grown.”

She smiled and hugged her mother. Demeter hugged her back so fiercely she felt as if her breath was being squeezed out. After a moment, Demeter took a step back and cupped her cheeks.

Tears swam in Demeter’s eyes. She laughed and pressed a kiss to Persephone’s forehead then stepped back and cleared her voice. “Come, let us wait in the dining hall. The Servers will let us know when our guests start arriving.”

They retreated to the end of the courtyard and passed through into a long hall filled with comfortable chaises, plush pillows, extravagant rugs, and low tables. One of the chaises in the middle of the room was wreathed in flowers and woven grasses. A small pile of bundles wrapped in colourful linens sat atop the table directly in front of the decorated seat.

“Mother,” Persephone laughed. “I thought I told you to only get me one gift this year.”

Demeter smiled. “It’s a mother’s right, and pleasure, to buy her daughter as many gifts as she wants.”

She shook her head with a rueful chuckle and eyed the pile with a mixture of resignation and curiosity. As soon as she’d settled onto her chaise, Demeter placed the first of the gifts in her lap. “Mother…”

“Shh. These are gifts just between us. I have another one, for when our guests are here.”

Persephone sighed and unwrapped the first gift. “Oh! It’s lovely!” She lifted the delicate flower out of a velvet-lined box. Golden petals curled away from the dark stamens and streaks of rich purple stretched out along the petals. She breathed in deeply and got lost in the soft scent of vanilla and distant waves.

“It’s a sunset glory.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Demeter smiled sadly. “It’s taken me a very long time to grow one. They were my favourite flowers back…well, before.”

Persephone’s eyes widened. None of the gods liked to talk about the world they had all fled from. Her mother always said it was too painful to remember. The little she knew about it consisted primarily of the fact that the six who first discovered how to escape to the Between formed the heart of the Olympians. Zeus, Hera, Demeter, Poseidon, Hades, and Hestia. They rescued as many others as they could, but so many more were lost when that world died. Though no blood tied them, they were forever siblings afterward.

Demeter cleared her throat and picked up another gift. “Anyway, open your other gifts, my love.”

Persephone nodded and gently placed the flower back in its box. The other gifts were all lovely and appreciated, but she couldn’t stop her gaze from returning to the box cradling a remnant of a lost world. It was by far the most precious gift she’d ever received.

The last present had barely been opened when a whisper of air brushed past Persephone and stopped beside Demeter. The invisible Servant said something and Demeter nodded. The Servant quickly whisked itself away and Persephone shivered. The Servants were unsettling. They were the memoryless remnants of mortal spirits, gathered up by the gods, once they left the realm of Hades, to do their bidding until it was time for them to be reborn into the world. But she could never shake the feeling that some of them retained something. Some of them seemed to watch with a hunger and resentment.

Her musings were interrupted by another Servant whisking away her opened gifts a moment before the first of their guests were shown to the dining hall. A gaggle of cousins seemed to tumble through the doors, chattering and laughing, while two servants carried their gifts.

“A pleasure, Cousin,” one of them said, barely sparing Persephone a glance before eyeing the hall.

At a gentle nudge from Demeter, Persephone smiled. “Thank you for coming. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

The words were hardly out of her mouth before they spread out around the room. They were more concerned with their flirtations than in celebrating her birthday. She didn’t particularly care—they were not any of the cousins she was close with—but she wished she had the power to smite them. Just a little. Just enough to make them mind their manners.

The next guests distracted her from daydreams of retaliation. From that point on, it seemed as if a steady stream of people flowed into the room. There were cousins from distant lands, and local cousins she’d only ever met a time or two before, and those she saw frequently. She was especially happy to see Athena and Hestia, and disappointed that Apollo had brought yet another of his mortal lovers. But once everyone was there, it was her aunts and uncles who dominated her attention.

“Ah, seventeen, what a lovely age to be,” Zeus declared. He winked and saluted her with a goblet of wine.

Hera snorted and rolled her eyes. “You old sot, do you even remember what it’s like to have been that young?”

“I’m not that old—”

“You are 172. You are old, my husband.”

Zeus huffed. “And what about you, my darling wife?”

Hera smiled and took a demure sip of wine. “I am a mere 61. You were already old when I married you.”

Poseidon laughed loudly, wine slopping from his goblet to splash against his beard. Amphitrite absently patted a napkin against the drip without breaking off the almost-whispered conversation she was having with one of her nereid sisters. “She’s got you there, Brother.”

“Oh, be quiet. None of us are young. Not even our baby brother.” Zeus scowled, though it didn’t seem to bother any of them.

Hestia tsked. “We are not here to throw insults at one another.”

“No, we’re here to welcome our lovely niece to the doddering ranks of the elderly, are we not?” Hera asked with a wry twist of her lips.

Zeus sighed with exasperation. “Hera, she’s seventeen. At least save your scathing bitterness until she’s had a few years to enjoy being an adult.”

Demeter cleared her throat and shot the pair a warning look. “I am glad you could all make it, but I would prefer if you would leave the domestic disputes outside.”

“Apologies,” Zeus replied. Hera merely gave a strained smile.

Demeter shook her head and gestured for the Servants to bring out the food. Platters of meats, fruits, pastries, cheeses, and nuts were piled on the tables. Everything had a faint golden glow, a telltale sign of it being made from ambrosia—the solidified sustenance they drew from mortal worship. Honey-sweet and rich, ambrosia was considered a delicacy. Persephone might have agreed if she was ever allowed to eat anything else.

She envied the mortals for their foods full of interesting scents and colours. Even the simplest of food held a robustness that ambrosia lacked. But her mother was very insistent she never let a morsel of mortal food pass her lips. Doing so could diminish what little divinity she possessed. Though she felt it was worth the risk, her mother certainly didn’t.

“Really, Demeter, couldn’t you have included something real amongst all this ambrosia?” Poseidon grumbled.

Demeter stiffened. “Do you have any idea how much this cost me?” she asked, her voice low and harsh.

“I don’t know why you expend so much energy, Sister,” he said. “Between the food and this place…wouldn’t it be easier to just take what the mortals so freely offer us?”

Persephone stilled, her eyes locked on the food in front of her. She didn’t want them to realize how closely she was listening to their conversation, but she desperately wanted to hear more.

“Shh,” Demeter hissed. “I won’t have you putting ideas into her head.”

“She’s made it to seventeen,” Poseidon said, lowering his voice only a little. “Whatever mortality you felt at her birth must have fled long ago. She is as immortal as any of us.”

“I will not risk it.”

Zeus drummed his fingers against his goblet. “It does seem a little excessive, Sister. You must be exhausted.”

She gave him a tight smile. “I would pay it twice over, to keep her safe.”

“You could always come live at Olympus,” Zeus offered. Hera rolled her eyes but didn’t disagree.

Demeter shook her head. “It is a kind offer, Brother, but I’ve never felt comfortable there. You know this.”

“Pay them no mind, my dear,” a soft voice on the other side of her chaise said. She turned to see Hades studying her with a worried frown. Only then did she realize she’d gripped her own goblet so tightly the stem was bent.

“I dislike being talked about as if I weren’t here,” she admitted, her own voice pitched low so as to not draw the attention of her mother.

His frown slid into a smile so small and mischievous it seemed as if it were binding them together in some playful secret. “There is more fire and stone in you than any of them give you credit for.”

Persephone flushed in delight. No one thought she was anything but a delicate flower, beautiful and to be admired, but also protected. Fire and stone could take care of itself.

“Now, I know the presents will all be opened later in the evening, along with much pomp, but I would love for you to open my gift now,” he said, that little smile still lighting up the hard planes of his face.

She shot her mother, uncles, and aunts a quick glance, but none of them were paying her any mind. She turned back to Hades with a smile. “It might not be the tradition, but it is my birthday.”

“That’s the spirit.”

He pulled a tall, thin box from the pile of gifts and pushed it toward her. The box was engraved in looping swirls, all stained a dark brown, like fresh-turned earth. Her fingers glided across the engravings, picking out the shapes of owls, rams, and snakes. She thought some of the other patterns might be plants, but it was harder to differentiate them.

“There is a gift inside the box,” Hades said, his voice holding the hint of laughter.

“Oh! Right, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, my dear,” he said. “It is…satisfying to see someone appreciate something I made.”

She blinked and turned to face him fully. “You made this?”

A flush crept across his cheeks and the tops of his ears. “I find working with wood is soothing. I, uh, thought some of it might be put to use.”

Her breath escaped her and it took a moment for her to reclaim it. “Thank you, Uncle. It’s a gift in and of itself.”

His gaze darted away, though the colour in his cheeks deepened. “Please, call me Hades. You’re not a child any longer. You’re my equal now.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re an Olympian, Uncle…Hades. I couldn’t hope to be your equal.”

His gaze jerked back to her and she felt like a mouse captured by a hawk. “Do not let anyone make you feel lesser, Persephone Olympiad. You have as much importance as any of us.”

“Persephone, darling,” Demeter said, her voice sickly sweet. “What are you and Hades discussing so intently?”

Persephone pulled away from his gaze reluctantly. “I was admiring the box he…his gift is in.” Some part of her knew no one else would appreciate that he had made it himself. Not when any of them could wave a hand and create something just like it with very little effort.

Demeter glanced at the box, her mouth twisting with distaste for a moment. “I suppose you must be bored and wanting to open your gifts. But I beg your patience, my darling. Our kin have not finished their meal.”

“I know. I was just going to open this one. The others can wait.”

Demeter blinked. “Persephone?”

She fought back her embarrassment. She’d never spoken to her mother like that before, but the words fire and stone seemed to be reverberating through her. This was a celebration of her becoming an adult. No matter how many traditions they adopted from the mortals, she would not forget that, by their own traditions, she was her own person now.

“Very well.” Demeter turned her attention to Hades and frowned. “Though I do not appreciate you encouraging her lack of manners.”

Persephone almost laughed again. Her lack of manners? How many of their kin had barely greeted her before seeking out a seat and wine? They didn’t deserve any more respect than they’d shown her. Any remaining misgivings she’d had about opening his gift early were washed away.

Despite her lack of care about being considered rude, she was acutely aware of her mother, aunts, and uncles watching her. She took a breath and focused on the box. She’d been holding it so long the wood had borrowed some of her warmth. She wondered if Hades’ hands would feel as soft and silky. The thought brought an instant flush to her cheeks and she shoved it ruthlessly away.

A simple clasp held the box closed. She lifted the top and reached inside to pull out the gift. A smile lit her face as she revealed a small, potted pomegranate tree. Three ruby-red fruits hung from its branches, like jewels nestled amongst the leaves.

“Pomegranates? A little risque for a young woman, don’t you think?” one of the nearby cousins drawled. Persephone had to strain her memory to remember the name. Aphrodite. Goddess of Love. They’d only met once before—Aphrodite had little patience for children, and Demeter didn’t approve of how many mortal lovers she took.

“They are not simply symbols of desire,” Hades said, his voice soft and rumbling. Persephone wondered if she were imagining the note of uncertainty in his tone.

“No, they’re also the only fruit that grows in your realm,” Demeter said with open distaste.

Persephone couldn’t help the delighted gasp as she turned to him. “Did you grow this yourself?”

“Ah,”—he shifted uncomfortably—“I know it might seem a foolish gift for the daughter of Demeter—”

“No, no, I love it. Thank you!”

“Hmmf. Just be sure you don’t eat the fruit, my darling,” Demeter warned. “Food from the underworld is even more detrimental to your health than food from the mortal realm.”

If you enjoyed this, you might be interested in my published work, which can be found at: Prairie Owl Publishing ♦ Amazon ♦ Kobo ♦ Chapters/Indigo ♦ Barnes & Noble ♦ Thriftbooks

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[minniethemoocherda]

OMG!!!! Thank you so much @rebelsfromstars for tagging me in a resurrection of a meme from LJ circa 2007!!

Writer’s Meme: Sometimes it’s ok to pimp yourself out. Post a list of your top five(-ish) favorite fics you’ve written, regardless of fandom or the reason you love them. This isn’t about the BEST things you’ve written, but what you LOVE most. Then tag five other people to do the same:

@roninreverie

@ironwingedhawk

@moomkin92

@floralegia

@ignite-the-stars

1. Fractured: Five Times Gobi had to tell Cham to be a better father plus one time he didn’t have to.

I am way to proud of this fic! I put way to much effort into it! For some reason I’ve always loved Gobi and I love stories about Hera’s relationship with Cham as she grew up so I thought, why not combine both of these things into my own story?

2. Five Times Ezra met a force ghost and one time he didn’t.

I’ve always been intrigued by Jedi lineages as they’re like Jedi families so it was really fun to explore this in my own story especially with some under appreciated characters that I adore! Also one of the last chapters was very therapeutic to write after certain events happened near the end of Rebels.

3. Five Times Hera and Kanan met at a Coffee Shop plus one time they didn’t.

(This is the last 5+1 fic I swear!!) I’m really proud of how I managed to fit all of these characters into this au. And it is my only Kanera focused fic which is crazy because those two are adorable!! I need to write more kanera!

4. Watching Her Back

Instances of Bly watching Aayla’s back through the course of their relationship. I’m really proud of how much time I managed to span in just one fic and to show significant scenes in the development of their relationship. And one of these scenes near the end that involves literally sleeping was one of my favourite things to write ever!!!

5. Age

My favourite of the Kalluzeb Drabble I’ve written so far! Zeb living for 300 years compared to Kallus’ human lifespan is such a tragic yet intriguing concept that I loved exploring!!!

6. Katara’s Time

My favourite fanfiction I’ve ever written and the only non-star wars fic on this list. It’s about Katara reflecting on her life as she thinks back on the words of Aunt Wu’s prophecy from way back in the first season of atla “You will have your third great-grandchild before quietly passing away in your sleep."

[shanastoryteller]

Hey so I've loved your Retold Fairytales for some time but I just binged your entire Gods and Monsters and I??? love Styx. A lot. And I'm curious about Hephaestus and Styx growing up as best friends in the Underworld. If you could work your magic when you have the time, I'd love to see a story about them!

Styx does not have a homein the underworld, not really. She has a room in Hades’s palace, of course, anda nook in Hecate’s house.  Charon has acottage by her river, a humble thing for a being of such great power, and she’sshoved her way onto his narrow bed and curled into the warmth of his chest morethan once. She darts through the horrors of Tartarus, and plays in the ElysiumFields.

All of the underworld is open to her, and she’s lived herethe entirety of her existence. But she’s yet to find a piece of it that feelsas if it belongs to her, that doesn’tfeel borrowed.

~

Hecate brings home a baby with no legs beneath the knee andwide, curious eyes.

Styx adores him instantly.

Hecate is a busy woman – her duties in the underworld keepher constantly moving, and she spends much of her time shrouded in her secrets.She is the goddess of magic, and there are things that only she can do, thingsthat other people can’t even know about. She is not a person with much time tospare, and babies take a lot of time.

Hades watches him often, directing the traffic of souls andoverseeing construction with the child held to his chest. Charon fashions asling, and the baby sleeps against his back while Charon ferries souls acrossher river.

Time passes. The baby is not like her.

The baby grows.

~

Hephaestus is a child, and he lives in a dangerous place.His aunt raises him, and she is a busy woman who does important things, and itseems to him like nothing in their home is safe to touch, that it is all cursedor corrosive or even, at time, sentient.

The palace is not much better. Hades always welcomes him,has a warm smile for him, but is too busy to linger. He walks on wobbly legs ofglass that Aunt Hecate fashioned for him, and they allow him to walk, but theypain him too. He cannot run or jump, he cannot explore the edges of the underworldlike he so desperately wants to because his legs are delicate, clumsy things.They are glass, and they shatter too easily.

“Don’t be sad,” a voice says in his ear, and he’s grinningbefore he even turns around. Lady Styx is there, smiling at him. She looks tobe his age, although she is much older, and she has black skin and grey hairand eyes. Her skin is the color of her river’s water, and her hair and eyes thecolor of the foam when it rushes too fast. For as long as he can remember, shehas always had kindness to spare.

“I’m not sad,” he says stubbornly. “Aren’t you busy?” She isa goddess, one as powerful and important as his aunt or Hades. He wants to growup to be just like her.

She shrugs, “My river knows what to do. Do you want to go onan adventure?”

“Yes,” he says instantly. The only time he’s allowed toexplore is when Styx is with him. If his glass legs break, she can carry him,and if anything tries to attack or hurt them, she can stop it.

She grabs his hand, smiling. It’s cold. She’s always cold,the same icy temperature as her river. “There are volcanos in Tartarus. Have Itaken you there before?”

He shakes his head, and in the next instant they’re gone.

~

Styx and Hephaestus manage to get in all manner of trouble,including, but not limited to: accidentally giving Cerberus two extra heads,devising and implementing a manner of torture for Tantalus that is so brilliantHades can’t even get mad at them for it, and figuring out it is possible to surf of Styx’s roughwaters with glass legs, but only if you’re very, very stupid and have thegoddess in question by your side and laughing so hard she forgets that herprimary job here is to prevent you from dying.

When he’d found them, Hades had given them the worstadmonishment he knew how to give: a disappointed frown. Hecate had laughed andtold them to be careful of his legs.

Hephaestus’s childhood had its bright spots. Almost all ofthose bright spots included Styx.

~

Hephaestus looks older than her now, a young man when sheis, as always, a child. He’s gotten quieter as he ages, his dark eyespermanently thoughtful.

“You shouldn’t come here without me,” she scolds, sittingdown beside him. He doesn’t respond, swinging his hammer down on glowing metalwith a boom loud enough that the volcano shakes with it. “You know Hecatedoesn’t like you going into Tartarus alone.”

“You were busy,” he says, not accusatory, just a statementof fact. “Here, cool this for me.”

She sighs, but cool water rushes from her hands and onto thesuperheated metal. It hisses and steams, but when the air clears Hephaestusholds it up and appears to be satisfied. “Must it be in a volcano? We can makeyou a forge in safer part of the underworld.”

“Volcanos are useful,” he says, the same answer he alwaysgives her. “I have more of these to do if you want to stick around.”

Helping him build whatever he’s currently working on ispretty boring. But he’s her friend, and it must be important if he’s riskinghis life by going into Tartarus on his glass legs to do it. “Sure,” she sighsslumping down to sit crosslegged next to him. He pats her on the head, whichshe’s all prepared to be insulted by - she’s a kid, but she’s not a kid – when she sees his lips curled up aroundthe corners of his mouth. He’s making fun of her on purpose, which is stillannoying, but is less hurtful than him treating her like a kid just because helooks older.

~

The first set of legs that Hephaestus makes for himself aremade of iron. They’re not as pretty as he’d like them to be, but that’s allright. He can run in these legs, jump in them, fight in them. He is no longer abeing made of glass, no longer someone who can be easily broken.

Styx is the first person he shows them to. He leaps andsomersaults in them, something he could never do before. She’s delighted atfirst, smiling and clapping, but by the time he finishes, arms out-thrown andbeaming, she’s wilted. She sits hunched and tries to keep her smile in place,but it’s trembling.  

“What’s wrong?” he asks, kneeling in front of her. “Ithought you would be happy for me.”

“I am!” she hiccups, and now she’s crying, big fat tearsthat he wants to wipe away but can’t. She cries the water of her river. If hetouches them, he’ll burn. “I am happy!’

He risks it, tugging the end of his sleeve down to quicklywipe her left cheek, then ripping it and throwing the cloth away as it burns.“You don’t look happy.”

“You’re going to leave,” she says, and he goes cold. “Youhave legs, and now you’re going to leave, and I’m not. I am the Goddess of theRiver Styx, I must stay with my river. But you’re going to leave.”

His heart breaks seeing Styx cry. He loves Hecate, lovesCharon, loves Hades. But if there is one person in this realm he can truly callfamily, it is her. They share no blood, but she’s the only sister he’s everknown. “I’ll visit! You can visit me too. I wasn’t born here, Styx. Hecateisn’t my mom. I was born on Olympus, and I can’t hide in the underworld fromHera forever. I don’t want toeither.”

“I know!” she says, her breath coming in stuttering gasps asshe tries and fails to stop crying. “You’re so smart, and all the things youmake are amazing. You need to go out there, so other gods can see you, so thatpeople can see you. I just – I’m going to miss you.”

He’s a god – a little river water won’t kill him. He pullsStyx into his arms, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as her tears burn throughhis skin. She resists for a moment, then goes slack, throwing her arms aroundhis neck. He says, “I’m going to miss you too.”

~

Hephaestus does not want to cause an uproar. He’s hadfantasies of storming Mount Olympus, of confronting Hera, of doing any numberof foolish, stupid things. But he is not a foolish, stupid man.

Hecate has picked out a volcano for him already, one shetells fits all his requirements and is not in the domain of any other god, eventhe lesser ones. He will go slow. He will build, and improve the lives of themortals. Temples will be erected in his honor, tributes placed at his feet, hisname on all their lips. He’ll build his power the hard way, until they canignore him no longer, until Hera and Zeus have no choice but to offer him aplace at their table on Olympus.

But not yet.

For now, he builds something else, something even moreimportant.

~

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Styx asks, pouting.

Hephaestus’s hands are on her shoulders, pushing herforward. “No.”

She scowls. She can tell they’re by her river, in a bendwhere no one travels through, but that’s it. Her knowledge of the geography ofthe underworld is always in relation to her river. “What about now?”

“Yes,” he says.

She wasn’t expecting it, so it takes her a moment to blinkher eyes open. “Did you make this?”

“Hecate helped,” he admits, “I wasn’t sure what to do forthings like curtains and windchimes. Do you like it?”

It’s a house. A small one, not much bigger than Charon’s.It’s made of obsidian, but not several pieces put together. It looks like thewhole things was carved out of one massive piece of obsidian. The walls are blackand smooth and shining. There’s a large, round bed in the center that’s a paleblue, the chairs in a deep purple, and her curtains are a soft yellow. Thehouse is black, but Hephaestus has filled it with color, given her a rainbowtucked in every space. Copper pots hang in the kitchen, and there are signs ofhis forging everywhere – in the cabinets, the door knobs in the shape of flowers,the singular windchime hanging in her open window, even though there is no windhere.

“Do you like it?” he repeats. “I know you tend to just – endup wherever, but I thought you should have a place that was just yours. If youwant something different I can change it–”

“No.” She swallows and touches her wall, the silver designin her walls that he must have inlaid himself. “It – it’s perfect.” Quieterthen, “You gave me a home.”

No place in the whole of the underworld has ever felt likeit belonged to her. This one does. It doesn’t feel borrowed.

Hephaestus ruffles her hair, “It seems only fair, since youdid the same for me. This realm wouldn’t have been my home without you.”

They’re smiling at each other, and the tension she’d beencarrying ever since she realized Hephaestus would be leaving drains out of her.

He’s older now, almost an adult, and he’s leaving theunderworld. But he’s not leaving her.

“You’re my best friend,” she tells him, in case he’sforgotten.

“Good,” he tells her, “because you’re my best friend too.”

gods and monsters series, part xxiii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

[thesaddaaays]

I used to use this channel all the time to write about reece. The last time I posted was December 2018. It’s now January 2021.

The dates aren’t really important, but time has passed and a lots happened. I got over it. All of it. Every single bit. Reece is with someone else now and so am I. I’m happy. And I’m assuming he is too. That’s all over, it took me a while, long after I wrote that last post, to get over it. But I did. Hard. I never believed that I would but I did, but that’s not what brings me here today. All of that information would of been liberating in any other circumstance; finally beating the reason for content. Finally saying I don’t care about any of it anymore. Finally feeling free and at peace. It’s not that that isn’t true because it is, it’s just unfortunate that something came along and beat it.

This isn’t new. It hasn’t really just happened. But, it is worse now. I moved out a year ago. February 2020. I didn’t actively choose to move out, but I had no other choice if I wanted to be happy. I wouldn’t say I was attacked, but mark, the man who stole my belongings and has given nothing but abuse to me and my mother for nearly 9 years, put his hands on me. I don’t remember it much, adrenaline tends to wipe your memory, but I do remember my mother not trying to split us up, but pushing me off of him as if I was the assailant. As if, she was protecting him. My mum had been how she always was at around that time, mentally unstable. Like every year at christmas since 2011, she goes bipolar and hostile and abusive for around six months. I’d like to believe that’s why she did what she did; but I’m not all that sure anymore. Stephanie wasn’t there, but I phoned her crying and she panicked and called the police. They came, and my mum lied to them. I knew then things wouldn’t be the same, that it was different. I packed a lot of my belongings and left permenantly that night, Steph came and got me, we went to her sisters and that following Friday we arrived back there and packed up my room. My mum was hostile and abusive. Spent the entire time silently following us, not helping, not speaking directly to me and pretending I wasn’t there, and staring at us trying to intimidate us. It was so bad the taxi driver packed the boot quicker than usual because he sensed it. It was awful, I cried the entire way back. Stephanies mum took me in, gave me a set of keys and allowed me to live here.

I can’t remember what happened or how it did, but my mum and I gradually got back on track again, funnily enough round about spring time when she started getting better. I’d go up and visit her, but mark was still always there. I’d consciously decided that my mum would never be able to rid herself of him, she was too lonely and thought too poorly of herself. I knew that ultimatums weren’t going to work, the fact she’d still allowed him close to her and around her after what he did to me stung, and I spent a long time dealing with that turmoil. But I also learned that it wouldn’t ever be any different, and if I wanted to see my mum I’d have to just turn a blind eye to it. So I did. My mum was great, she wasn’t everything I wanted or needed her to be since I moved out; she never got me in anything I liked, food or juice or snacks, she couldn’t even cook me a dinner when I came up. I can count on one hand how many times she actually did. She could barely pry herself away from her soups when I was there, it hurt. But she’s my mum, right?

I started to let myself get sucked back in. I told myself if she did go unwell again at winter that it wouldn’t be half as bad because I didn’t live there. Time passed and it started to look as if she wasn’t even going to have an episode, then the day before my birthday she did. Things happened as you’d imagine; arguments, uncomfortableness and her erratic behaviour. What was new was the fact that I didn’t have anything to help me cope with it. Usually I’d just fall back on the fact I aggravated her. It wasn’t the best thing, but believing I was just rubbing her up the wrong way or annoying her too much made her abuse easier. Her shouting at me and treating me how she did was always horrific, but if I thought I was contributing I could at least use staying out of her way as something that could help me. I didn’t have any of that this time. I didn’t do anything. I witnessed her seek me out. She left me abusive voicemails and didn’t speak to me for five days because I didn’t have £10 to let her borrow for cigerettes. She borrowed £100 off of me and lost it the day she was paying me back, refused to give me the phone bill because she said she deposited it into my bank even though she doesn’t know my bank details, and has repeated it for the second month in a row. She also conjured up her own idea of depositing the money she owed me in my account and that I was to phone her that day and give her my bank details and talk her through it. The day came and instead she screamed at me and kept hanging up. I’ve blocked her number so voicemails will still come through, a few of her either manipulating me again because she needs something or telling me to stay away from her.

Getting a dog I’ve learned was the best and worst decision I made. The best because he lit up my entire life and the worst because my mum has managed to make him a liability due to ignoring the training, and allowed him to bark and disrupt the neighbours so much the landlord continuously badgers me about it. My mums been disruptive herself; causing noise and even taking a hammer to the floor to purposely wind them up. The landlord phoned me and said he was at wits end, and I begged and pleaded for him to give her another chance. I then diplomatically tried to talk my mum into being calmer, which she agreed to do. Turns out it didn’t work because today she phoned me and told me she has to leave, that she’s moving in with mark. She seemed to believe incorrectly that she had until March, but the landlord said she has until Friday. I had to go today with Steph and Hera and clear out my room. She’d let hugo pee all over my stuff, chew my shoes and DVD’s and a lot of things are missing. The disrespect is one thing, but her attitude is another. Even though our phone call was calm, normal and even pleasant, I even had a perfectly placid conversation when I first came into the house. But it changed. She stood staring at us, watched the dog hump Hera continuously and disrupt us, and when I asked her to help and reprimand him she started screaming at me. She then wouldn’t stop with the abuse, it got so bad Steph had to step in, and she still just tried to turn her against me. Calling me names and turning on the tears saying I beat her. I realise now why my aunt and uncle thought so little of me. But then again, she told me my uncle raped her so I’m sure it’s even on the scale of what she makes up about others.

My mum didn’t speak directly to me. She invited Hera in for water or tea or coffee, but not me. She stood in front of me and invited Steph out for a coffee soon, but said nothing to me. She spoke of me whilst I was there and hurled abuse at me, my own mother who’s suppose to be the one person on the earth to protect and look out for me, pretended not to even see me, didn’t care that my partner and friend were there to witness all the horrible things she said. Even though she knew today was going to be the last day she’d see me for a long time, and that she hadn’t seen me for five weeks, she didn’t even put her arms around me once. She barely even looked me in the eyes. She couldn’t even tell me she loved me, or ask anything about my life. I’ve been through a lot with my mum in the past 10 years, it’s been a rough road. But today, today I can honestly say felt the worst out of all of it. I still have feelings, things still sting, and despite how much I tell myself it won’t happen again, my heart still gets broken by her. It got broken when she packed her stuff in black bags and wouldn’t tell me if she was moving out, it got broken when she kept telling me she was moving to Ireland when I was only 17, it got broken all the times she said she was ashamed to call me her daughter, that I was just like my dad, that I was fat, when she called me spoiled and a bitch and whenever she sees fit to scream at me and ignore me for no reason. But today really did break my heart again, and I truly didn’t think it was possible. I phoned my mum not but 3 days ago, crying to her because I’d quit my job and I was scared. This was the first time I’d attempted to contact her since she screamed at me when I asked about her transferring the money into my bank and that had been 4 days before it. I told her why I phoned, and the reason I did is the reason why my hearts broken now, because I miss her and I need my mum. If I had a genie I’d wish for my regular mum so hard, just so I could hear her tell me everything was going to be okay. That I’m strong and clever, that I’ll make it, that she’s been there, and that I’m capable of doing good things. But today for no reason, instead, she told me never to contact her again. So I’ll never be able to ever feel okay phoning my mum again when I’ve had a hard day. I’ll never again get the luxury of phoning my mum when things are tough and hearing her tell me everything will be okay. It’ll never be the same again. She’s ruined it, and I don’t understand why.

My mum saw fit to go out of her way to not speak to me today, but felt it appropriate to leave me a voicemail asking me to get the landlord to contact her because she needs the number for a homeless shelter. Of course there’s a part of me that is worried she’ll need to be in one of those places, the thought alone breaks my heart, but not enough for me to offer this space. But I know she only left that voicemail to make me feel guilty and sorry for her. She didn’t need to say why she needed to speak to the landlord, but she did because she knew it would play on my heartstrings, she knew it could make me feel bad enough I’d give in and phone her back, but I won’t and I didn’t. I lived on egg shells before, but if I’ve learned anything in the past year it’s that there’s nothing I could ever do to avoid my mums wrath on me. I said nothing, did nothing and behaved like a reasonable adult and I am still her enemy now and the worst person to have ever lived. So why be scared to ignore her phone calls and voicemails? Because she’ll send more? She has already. Because she won’t talk to me? She already said she isn’t. Because she’ll disown me and try cut me out of her life? She is actively trying and telling me so. I did what I could to try and avoid the pain and it didn’t work. It’ll always be there. Not having enough money to lend her is grounds enough for abusive text messages and her screaming at me to “shove it up my arse.” So I might as well do what’s right for me now, I’ll get it horrific regardless.

The landlord then texted me, not but at half 6 in the morning, asking me what type of breed my dog is in case “anyone is looking for one” because my mums incapable of looking after him. I told him I’d take him ASAP, it’s just not possible right now. The panic that coursed through me, the stress that I feel, the pain in my stomach and all I want to do is phone my mum and tell her all my problems and have her cradle me. It’s my own fault. It is. I know my mum. I know her patterns, I can tell by one word that she’ll go unwell, I know her better than she does. So it is on me that I had a moment of weakness and put too much into it. It’s hard to believe that not yesterday but the day before my mum was on the phone telling me I was everything great in the world, that she’s so proud of me, that she couldn’t wait to see me and that we were gonna get high and have a laugh. And I cried and let myself feel the comfort from it, when I should have never of allowed it. My mums gone. She probably doesn’t even remember that conversation, and truth be told I don’t know if she’ll come back this time. I don’t know what will happen.

The thought of leaving my dog with them makes me sick. I don’t even know how I’ll get him back. I’ve not slept and it’s 8 am. My heads going 100 miles an hour and I can’t get it to slow down. So yeah, I’d take the pain I felt over reece over this any day.

[studying-inwonderland]

Becoming a Christian Witch

So I’m not here to preach to you.  I have no grounds to tell you how to live your life and what to believe.  And I know that.  But I want to talk a little bit about my journey through faith and what it means to me, where I started and where I am, and why.  So If you don’t care to hear about religion feel free to ignore me, you have that right!  But if you feel like something is missing try it out.

So I was christened/dedicated when I was a baby.  My mom (to my fathers protest) took me to her grandmothers church and had me dedicated to God.  God, not Jesus.   Now if you ask my mom, when I was very little I think 2, I saw Jesus.  I was sitting at a table and babbling, like kids that age do  and then I asked a question and when my mom answered me I told her that I wasn’t talking to her I was talking to the Sad Man. I said he was wearing a bleeding crown and bleeding from his arms.  Now I think I just had a very active imagination and my mom is a niave and hyper-religious freak.  She still swears I saw Jesus so whatever.  I was very religious until about 4th grade.  My mom said that God doesn’t like things that I really didn’t see anything wrong with.  Homosexuality? My hair dresser was a gay man and he was always nice to me and called me a princess and did my hair so pretty with sparkly sprays and nice regal up-do's.  Pre-Marital Sex? My mom had me before she was married and I didn’t think she was going to hell.  And if all it took for it to be forgotten was an “I’m Sorry” than obviously God didn’t care that much and how exactly do you feel sorry for who you are?  What kind of God expects that? Or maybe he just didn’t exist and was made up to make people follow dumb rules.  But either way I thought he must be kind of irrelevant and while I continued to believe in him, I stopped liking him so much.

Fast forward to middle school and my aunt, and my best friends mom, were both Wiccan? and I found this world where spirituality was about self love?  I was amazed and started to, rather appropriatively I’m afraid to say, Identify as a “Wiccan” I thought Wiccan was synonymous with witch, tried to talk to trees (not a Wiccan thing) control fire (not Wiccan) and lived without a deity.  Seeing as Wicca is a religion, with a pretty heavy emphasis on their deities (the horned god and triple goddess I believe?)  I was definitely not Wiccan.  I also had no idea what witchcraft was actually like in the real world, and my parents kept such close tabs on my internet use that I was afraid to do real research. About the only thing I did do right, was learn how to read playing cards and palms. I checked out books on ancient religions from the library, saying that I wanted to be an anthropologist, and read mainly about greek and roman gods and mythology, and a little about Celtic mythology too.  I read bits from the Torah and the Quran in an effort to gain some sort of understanding, thinking maybe I didn’t like the idea of multiple gods.  Some sort of love was just absent from my life.  But nothing fit right.  At this point it was that I didn’t believe in any god at all.

In 8th grade I moved to the Bible Belt.. I started to identify as an atheist/agnostic and stopped caring that I didn’t believe.   I just couldn’t agree with the things my new classmates believed about people.  The racist homophobic bullshit.  Assaulting my friend because she was gay.  And the adults were worse.  Not doing anything about the harassment and bullying?  I got pretty angry and it wasn’t until 10th grade that I got back into witchcraft.

With the help of Tumblr I explored other deities asking questions of more seasoned witches.  I started meditating, charming objects, doing glamours, cleansing rituals, and setting up wards around my room.  I started to collect crystals and trinkets and herbs and oils.  And was more open about it to my parents.  I learned that I can practice without a deity, and that was huge for me and the fact that I hadn’t chosen another deity pleased my parents.  People accepted that I can be whole without a god.  I accepted that I am enough and and that I have power and am beautiful with or without one.  But something was still missing.  I tried to learn more about the gods of my ancestors, thinking that might be a good place to start.  Well, my Native ancestors converted to Christianity rather easily.  And I haven’t found a reliable source of information on what their deities were like before that.  Only some information on their ceremonies.  I’m also Irish.  So I researched Celtic history, and I didn’t really connect to those deities either.  I did really like their symbolism and imagery and did start include that in my craft though.  I tried reaching out to Aphrodite, Hera, Artemis, and Athena.  But it felt wrong.  I looked into Tao-ism, Buddhism, and every pagan religion I could get my hands on.

I was a freshmen in college when I stumbled upon a christian witch.  At first I was skeptical.  The God I had known couldn’t have supported witch craft?  But I got more interested anyway, and continued to research and found more christian witches.  I found out that so many of the “Bible Quotes” that had been being shoved down my throught were actually mistranslations.  That Jesus spread love and forgiveness and that God wasn’t a fan of divination and necromancy... well how many christians read their horoscope anyway?... not witch craft as a whole.  

So from there it was quite a journey.  Turns out God Jesus and I had somethings to work out.  I was mad and uncertain, but after about a year of trying I accepted that I have always been a Christian.. So that was my journey but I thought I’d share it.  Today my practice isn’t much different than it was in high school.  I occasionally divine, accepting that God will either give me the answer or he won’t, through scrying generally (I like smoke scrying) with the occasional use of card reading.  I use prayers to charge my crystals and wards, and when I glamour or do a protective spell it’s coming from God.  I look to Jesus to teach me kindness and compassion, and try to practice forgiveness in my life.

[shanastoryteller]

Hi, I absolutely love your gods and monsters series and I especially love the way you've treated Hera in it (always thought she got a bad rep for no good reason). I know you're super busy, but would you ever consider doing one about when she finally leaves Zeus?

(recommended reading for context: X, X, X)

Olympus has fallen.

It’s marble columns lay cracked andbroken. The sun doesn’t pass over it anymore. Hestia’s fire pit has been emptyand cold for decades, with nothing left on the mountain to fuel it.

Olympus has fallen, yet Hera and Zeusare still there.

~

Ares has tried talking to his mother.He long ago gave up any hope of trying to save his father, but Hera isn’ttouched by madness like Zeus is. All that keeps her there are her oaths ofmarriage and loyalty, all that chains her to the crumbling remains of what theyonce were is her marriage to Zeus, who will only be convinced to leave Olympuson a funeral pyre.

Ares begs. He cries. He does anythingand everything he can to convince his mother to leave, but she only touches hisface with cold hands and presses her cracked lips to his cheek. She won’t leaveher husband.

She won’t be moved by him. So he hasto find someone she will be moved by.

He’s down in the underworld, where hespends so much of his time now. Persephone is often there as well, but she onlysmiles at him, is never angered by his presence in her realm or her husband’sbed.

(“You worry too much,” Icarus tellshim, early on when they are both young and fumbling and in love with the same man.“She is not a jealous woman. Hades loves us all – he simply loved her first.”)

But it is neither Hades nor Persephonewho he seeks today. He goes to the edge of the underworld, ever expanding and changing,because it is where she likes to be best. “Hecate!” he calls out, “I request anaudience.”

There’s a shiver in the air, and thegoddess of magic stands in front of him. He doesn’t know what to think of her,the woman who’s so close to his lover and who raised his brother. He’s neverbeen able to find a title that fits her quite right.

“Ares,” she greets, “to what do I owethe pleasure?”

“Staying by Zeus’s side is killing mymother,” he says. “I’ve tried to get her to leave, but she won’t listen to me.”

Her lips quirk up at the corners.“Listening has never been her strength. What do you expect me to do about it?I’ve tried to get her to leave Zeus before. I failed before, and I will failagain.”

“I know. I don’t want you to talk toHera. I want you to talk to Hephaestus,” he says

Hecate’s eyebrows rise. He’s managedto surprise her. “If he won’t listen to you, why would he listen to me?”

“I haven’t tried asking him,” he says.“He doesn’t believe anything I say of our mother. He’ll believe you.”

“And what makes you think I haveanything positive to say of her? She’s a petty snake – she’s lied andmanipulated and outright killed to get what she has.”

“Yes,” Ares says. “And what does shehave?”

Hecate smiles at him.

~

Hephaestus is startled to discoverHecate in his kitchen. She rarely leaves the underworld. “Aunt,” he says. It’swhat he’s called her his whole life. She’d always refused the title of mother.“Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” she says, and he snaps toattention. “Hera rots away on Olympus for loyalty to a man who has never showedher the same devotion.”

“How is that my problem?” he snaps,stung. Hecate has never brought Hera up to him before. He can’t think of whyshe would do so now.

She grabs one of the apples from hisfruit bowl and bites into it. She looks at him thoughtfully as she chews. Hecrosses his arms and glares. She swallows and asks, “Have you really notfigured it out yet? I raised you to be smarter than this.”

“Speak plainly.” It’s something hesaid often in his adolescence. Styx used to just try and drown Hecate when shebecame cryptic.

“Hera is your mother. She bore you andher blood runs strong in your veins.” He’s about to snap at her again when shesays, “But you are not a son of Zeus’s blood, and he has never been able toforgive you for being a child of his wife but not of him.”

His legs are mostly metal, but hestill loses feeling in them and has to grab for the edge of the counter.“What?”

Hecate’s eyes go distant. “She was sodesperate for a child when she had you. So young, all things considered.”

He sits down across from her, “Tell meeverything.”

~

Hephaestus is reeling even as heclimbs the crumbling, ashy remains of the once great Mount Olympus.

Hera has always seemed unbreakable tohim. As cold and perfect as marble, a mother in name only who tossed him to hisdeath when he was only a few hours old.

It was all a lie.

She went against her very nature as agoddess to conceive him, something she’s never done before or since. Shecarried him and bore him alone, and fought against Zeus to save him when bloodwas still slick between her thighs.

She gave him over to Hecate to protecthim. He grew up in the underworld not because he was something forgotten anduseless, but because he was cherished. He was raised in the underworld to keephim safe, not to keep him away.

She gave him his name, gave him hislife, and has loved him silently all these years.

He could have grown up on Olympus,could have grown up with her. She would have cared for him as fiercely as shecared for Ares. He could have grown up with Ares, could have known his brotherwhen he was small and straining towards freedom, wouldn’t have met him for thefirst time as a brash adolescent sneaking into his volcano.

If it weren’t for Zeus throwing himfrom this very mountain when he was only a few minutes old, he could have grownup with a real family.

He loves Hecate. He loves Hades. Styxwas his best friend growing up.

But it’s not the same. And it’s notfair.

~

Hera is beautiful,even as she’s dying.

Her hair ispiled on top of her head in intricate curls, and her dress is silk. But she’sso thin it looks as if even sitting on her throne tires her. She’s too pale andher skin is bruised, her eyes sunken.

Zeus laysslumbering in his throne beside her. He swings from mania to exhaustion withnothing in between.

“Hephaestus,”she says. Even as the rest of her body deteriorates her eyes are as bright andsharp as ever. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He falls tohis knees in front of her, and her eyes widen. “Staying here and clinging to apower that doesn’t belong to us anymore is killing you. It’s time to leave.”

“I am thegoddess of marriage and family. As long as my husband remains here, so shall I,”she informs him, head tilted arrogantly so she can stare down at him.

“We aren’tthe gods of anything anymore,” he says, “not really.”

She looksaway from him and her lips twitch like she’s not trying not to smile. “No. Isuppose not. But I am still a wife, and with my husband I will stay.”

“Thegoddess of marriage and family,” herepeats, “What of Ares? Of Hebe?”

“Hadeslooks after Ares. Hebe is fully grown, and has been for many centuries.”Something he can’t explain passes over her face. “Someday, all children mustsay goodbye to their mother for the last time. None of us are exempt from that,not even gods.”

He placeshis hands on her lap, palm up. She blinks, looking rapidly between his hands andhis face. He can’t remember if he’s ever touched her before. “Hera of theHeights, of Argos, of the Mound. Hera the cow eyed, white armed goddess ofmarriage and of family. Hera, queen of the gods.” He flexes his hands, and sheslowly places her cold hands in his. “Mom.You once saved me from death by Zeus’s hand. Let me do the same for you now.”

She becomesimpossibly paler and tries to yank her hands away, but he doesn’t let her. “Whatare you – I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let go of me!”

“Hecatetold me. She told me everything.” He kisses her knuckles. “Leave this mountain.Leave Zeus. Come with me.”

She looksto her slumbering husband, a mere shadow of the man he used to me. “I love him.”

“You hatehim too,” he says. “Denounce your status as a goddess and come with me. Mom,please.”

“It wasalways such a thin line between the two with us, between love and hate,” shesays, still looking at him. “He’s mine. I chose him, and I made him choose me.I did this, to the both of us. I should stay.”

Hephaestuspresses her hand to his cheek, and her gaze finally skitters back to him. “I’myours too. Ares is yours. Hebe is yours. Don’t die for you husband. Live foryou children.”

“You’venever cared about me before,” she says. “You shouldn’t bother. Just because Ididn’t throw you down this mountain doesn’t mean I’ve ever been a mother toyou.”

“Maybe thisis our chance then,” he says, “maybe this is our last chance to be something morethan strangers. Come with me, and be something other than Zeus’s bride andqueen.”

~

She’s toosickly to walk. Hephaestus carries her down what remains of Moiunt Olympus inhis arms. When they’re halfway down the skies open and ligntning crashes downaround them. The claps of thunder aren’t loud enough to drown out Zeus’sanguished screams.

Hera hidesher face in her son’s shoulder and weeps.

Hephaestus’smetal legs don’t hesitate or miss a step the whole way down the mountain.

~

Olympus hasfallen.

Only Zeusremains.

gods and monsters series, part xx

read more of the gods and monsters series here