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fantasticbean · 3 days ago

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The Nymph and the Sea I

Authors note: Okay so… this is my first fanfic for reals reals. Nothing in here is historically accurate, it is just based in greek mythology for funsies and Roman clearly gives off vibes of a powerful entity, so with that said don’t take any of this plot as genuine facts. I enjoyed writing it so I hope you enjoy reading it :) ALSO there will be smut but for now I’m just trying to develop the characters and the plot SO BEAR WITH ME.

Warnings: Minor Character death, animal death, blood, emotional abuse, toxic “mother” and daughter relationships. It is Ancient Greece people, there will be weird things going on. If I missed something let me know :p

Word count: 4,508 (got a little carried away hehe)

Pairing: Roman Reigns as Poseidon x Maleina (OC) Love Nymph

Chapter I. The Creation

Maleina, the tender-eyed nymph with the glowing purple gaze, was no ordinary creation. Crafted by the divine hands of Aphrodite, she was destined to carry the power of love, a living embodiment of the arrows shot by what mortals called Cupid. Her origins were as divine as her purpose, woven together one fateful night beneath the moonlit sky over Corinth. Aphrodite had long shared a passionate bond with Dionysus, the god of wine and revelry, and that evening, their union became the subject of much divine entertainment. The gods of Olympus, known for their indulgent voyeurism, watched eagerly as the pair gave themselves over to love and lust in a display that was meant to captivate them all.

Aphrodite, ever the showwoman, was determined to leave an indelible impression, to give her audience something worthy of their gaze. As she and Dionysus reveled in their moment, a new creation was born—a nymph whose beauty and power would echo through the heavens. The gods, enthralled by the spectacle, knew that Maleina would be no ordinary being.

Her form was an exquisite masterpiece. Apollo, the god of the sun and arts, nearly fell to his knees at the sight of her—so breathtaking was her beauty that he had a statue crafted in her likeness, one so flawless it would become the pinnacle of artistic reverence. Her hair, dark as the midnight sky, cascaded in soft waves, and her lips, full and beguiling, resembled the finest of Dionysus’s wine—sweet, intoxicating, and irresistible. Her skin shone with the glow of the full moon, luminous and ethereal, and her smile revealed teeth so perfect they could only have been sculpted by Poseidon himself, the god of the seas, whose skill in crafting beauty was unmatched. Even Hades, the god of the underworld, known for his usually impassive demeanor, sighed dreamily as she stepped into the room. Maleina’s presence was magnetic, her beauty transcendent, and the gods, one by one, acknowledged her as Aphrodite’s greatest creation.

And as if to crown her perfection, Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and protector of women, bestowed upon Maleina a final, unforgettable gift: a pair of violet eyes—eyes that held the power to awaken deep love and desire in those who gazed into them. The gods, from Zeus to Hecate, each saw something unique in her, something they had never witnessed before. Her eyes were not merely beautiful; they were a force of nature, a weapon of love itself.

It was the gods’ unanimous decision that Maleina would serve her creator’s will, tasked with wielding the power of Aphrodite’s arrows, binding mortals to the whims of love. But more than that, she would stand apart from the other nymphs, her allure unmatched, her powers unparalleled. Maleina was not just a messenger of love—she was its embodiment, the embodiment of divine passion and desire.

“You’re the embodiment of love and desire Dear,” Aphrodite said once Maleina was wrapped in soft silk gowns “With your gift you’ll grant us a future of many mortals to come and populate this earth but you should not indulge yourself with them.”

Those were the first words Maleina had ever heard: Bring love to others, but never to yourself. As the years passed, the weight of that command grew heavier. Maleina carried her quiver of arrows with grace, yet the burden they represented was one she felt deeply. Her existence was defined by bringing love and desire into the lives of mortals while denying herself the same. She could witness love in its purest, most fervent forms, but she was forbidden to partake, her duty bordering on punishment.

Maleina’s first encounter with love—true, unbidden love—was one she would never forget. It happened when she was tasked with a simple mission: to strike a mortal boy with her arrow, binding him to his childhood friend. She had seen him by the riverbank, his brown hair catching the golden light, his pearly blue eyes reflecting the water’s shimmer. He was a warrior, strong and proud, and wholly forbidden.

Curiosity rooted her in place as she watched him strip off his tunic, revealing a sun-kissed body carved by years of labor and training. Though she was a nymph, created from divine hands, she was still a creature of flesh and emotion. A warmth stirred deep within her, a sensation foreign and consuming. Her heart quickened, her body heated as if Hephaestus himself had stoked a flame within her very being.

Maleina hesitated. Her task was clear, her creator’s command absolute: bind him to another, and leave. But her hand faltered, the arrow never released. She fled, overwhelmed and terrified—not just by her feelings but by what Aphrodite’s wrath might bring. Love and chaos were two sides of her maker’s coin, and Maleina dared not challenge her. The consequences for disobedience were severe, and the goddess’s fury was a force even the gods themselves feared.

That night, Maleina returned to the temple in disarray. The image of the warrior haunted her thoughts, his laughter and form etched into her memory. She sat by the fountain, her feet submerged in the cool water, seeking solace in its stillness. Her sister Liv approached, her rosy cheeks tinged with cold and mischief.

“What’s spinning in that pretty head of yours?” Liv teased, her tone playful as always. Liv was unlike Maleina in every way—a vibrant soul full of theatrics and charm, the life of every gathering. She was a favorite at Apollo’s feasts and often found herself entwined in the schemes of Hermes’s sons. Yet, her teasing was tempered by an innate loyalty to her sister.

Maleina hesitated but finally spoke, her voice soft and uncertain. “Something… strange happened to me.” She leaned her head to the side, her gaze fixed on the rippling water. “I think I got too confident in my abilities.”

Liv raised a brow, her grin mischievous. “You mean you fucked someone?”

“No, you moron!” Maleina hissed, kicking water at her sister, her face flushing with embarrassment. “But it crossed my mind.”

Liv laughed, throwing her head back before leaning closer, her expression both amused and serious. “Well, I’ll be damned. The one who can’t fall in love… fell in love.”

Maleina shot her a sharp glare, placing a finger to her lips. “Liv! Someone might hear you.”

“Fine,” Liv said, lowering her voice but frowning deeply. “But did you…?” she asked again, her meaning clear, sex.

Maleina shook her head. The feeling had consumed her, burned through her in a way she had never experienced. And yet, she had resisted. It felt unfair—no, cruel—to be made a vessel of love and desire yet denied the ability to feel it freely.

Liv’s smile faltered as she studied her sister’s conflicted face. Maleina’s thoughts were a storm of lust, shame, and longing, a war between duty and the desires she had been forbidden to explore.

How unfair, she thought bitterly, to give love to others and never receive it for herself.

“I’ll be fine,” Maleina convinced herself “It won’t happen again. First thing tomorrow I will be done with it.”

“You know,” Liv said with a mischievous smirk, her tone dripping with devilish charm, “the instructions are to never fall in love. It doesn’t say entanglement is prohibited.”

Maleina rolled her eyes, the burden of her overthinking clashing with Liv’s careless temptations. “That’s not how it works, Liv,” she replied, though her voice lacked conviction. Her sister’s words lingered in her mind longer than she’d care to admit.

The next morning, Maleina found herself once again at the riverbank, her target in sight. The warrior stood near the water’s edge, cleaning his sword with quiet precision. His soaked tunic clung to his body, every muscle defined by the morning light. Maleina’s fingers tightened on the golden string of her bow, ready to complete her task.

But then, the rustling of leaves drew her attention. Her sharp eyes caught the movement first—a lion, stalking through the brush, its hungry gaze fixed on the man. The predator crept closer, its intent clear. Maleina’s breath hitched. She saw the warrior turn, his body shifting into a defensive stance. He was prepared, but what could a mortal do against an apex predator in its domain? It wasn’t a fair fight.

Her body moved before her mind could catch up. The arrow meant for the man flew through the air, striking the lion directly in the eye. The beast roared in pain and collapsed, its death immediate.

The warrior stood frozen, his sword lowered as he stared at the lifeless lion. Confusion clouded his features, and his sharp blue eyes scanned the surrounding trees. “Who’s there?” he called, his voice steady but wary. “Show yourself.”

Maleina’s heart raced. She hadn’t planned for this. She could have vanished, dissolved back into the safety of the trees, but something held her there. Taking a steadying breath, she stepped out of the shadows.

Her silk gown shimmered as if woven from moonlight, its deep purple hue mirroring the color of her eyes. Golden cuffs adorned her wrists, catching the sunlight, and her presence radiated an ethereal glow. The warrior’s jaw dropped as he took her in.

Surely, he thought, she was no mere woman. The way her beauty defied mortal comprehension, the way her very being seemed to command the air around her—he was convinced he stood before the goddess of beauty herself.

“Who are you?” he whispered, his voice soft, reverent, as if afraid to shatter the illusion.

Maleina’s lips parted, but she hesitated. Her mind raced with excuses, with answers, but none seemed to suffice. Instead, she simply stood there, her amethyst gaze meeting his.

“My name’s Maleina,” she said, her voice soft and low, like the whisper of a breeze through the trees. The sound ignited a flicker of something unnameable in Marcus’s chest, a heat that spread like wildfire.

“Marcus,” he replied, still unable to tear his gaze from her. It was as if his very soul feared she might vanish if he blinked. “Thank you, for, you know…” He motioned awkwardly toward the lifeless lion, the predator that had moments ago been his death sentence.

“You’re welcome,” Maleina replied, her tone measured and distant, uncertain of what else to say. Her gaze lingered for a beat longer than necessary before she turned, her movements graceful yet hurried. “Well, see you around,” she added, her words rushed as though she needed to escape.

“Hey! Wait!” Marcus’s voice rang out, desperation thick in his tone. He couldn’t let her leave—not yet, not so soon. His feet carried him forward instinctively, heart hammering in his chest as he tried to hold on to the moment.

Maleina stopped but didn’t turn immediately. Her shoulders stiffened as the weight of her actions replayed in her mind. She had already gone too far, broken unspoken rules she had followed since her creation. This was bad, worse than she’d anticipated. She needed to leave and never look back.

Still, she turned, her face unreadable, though her violet eyes betrayed the storm of emotions swirling within.

“A-Are you from around here?” Marcus asked, his voice unsteady yet earnest. For the first time in his life, he felt like a boy again—nervous, uncertain, with his heart thundering in his chest.

Maleina hesitated. She could feel the pull, the dangerous thread tying her to this moment. “No,” she finally said, the word clipped but soft. Her mind screamed at her to disappear, to let the forest swallow her whole before things spiraled further out of control.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she let herself linger just a moment longer, watching Marcus as he stood there, looking at her as if she were the most extraordinary thing he had ever seen. And perhaps, in that fleeting moment, she allowed herself to feel extraordinary, too.

And so, the man Maleina once observed from behind the trees became her secret companion—a bond forged in stolen moments and hidden from the eyes of gods and mortals alike. Marcus, the warrior with a chiseled body and a heart softer than he’d admit, became her solace. He was a man of gentle humor and fierce loyalty, his strength honed not for glory but for survival. Every coin he earned went to care for his mother and younger sister, who lived by the coast of Argos.

Through him, Maleina came to know pieces of his world. She learned of Aria, the woman who had once been his promised wife, whose destiny Maleina had quietly shifted with her bow. Instead of binding Marcus and Aria together, the nymph had paired her with an older artisan from the village, a match that had blossomed into a quiet, happy life. Yet, the knowledge weighed heavy on Maleina’s shoulders. She had altered Marcus’s path, stolen his future in the name of her own selfish desires.

Still, guilt melted away each time they met by the small temple near the riverbank—their hidden haven. It was a place untouched by time, where the only witnesses to their stolen moments were the whispering trees and the murmuring water.

Marcus never questioned her origins. He didn’t need to. To him, she was Maleina, the mysterious daughter of a wealthy merchant, a woman of ethereal beauty and elusive grace who allowed him to share her time. She never corrected his assumptions. It was safer that way—for both of them.

But as the months passed, and their connection deepened, Maleina found herself tethered to him in a way that frightened her. Each smile, each lingering touch, each stolen glance was a defiance of her purpose, a rebellion against the rules set by her maker. She knew Aphrodite’s wrath was as swift as it was merciless.

Yet, she couldn’t stop.

In Marcus’s company, Maleina felt something she had never known—a sense of belonging, a warmth that seeped into her very being. He looked at her not as a creation of divine perfection, but as a woman. And for the first time, she allowed herself to believe she was one.

Everything crumbled like a fragile sandcastle swept by a tidal wave. Nia, daughter of Thalassa and one of Poseidon’s loyal creations, had stumbled upon a tragedy at sea—a sight so harrowing it sent ripples of fury through the realms. Aria, a devoted wife and mother, lay lifeless along with her children, their bodies adrift on the salt-laden waves. The crime was heinous, committed by none other than Aria’s husband, whose heart Maleina’s arrow had forcefully turned. A bond meant to bloom with love had ended in bloodshed, a perversion of destiny itself.

This unnatural tragedy ignited chaos in the underworld, shaking its dark foundations and compelling Hades himself to rise from his shadowed throne. His demands for answers echoed through Olympus until they reached Poseidon’s halls. The Sea God, his rage like a brewing storm, dispatched Nia to uncover the source of this upheaval. Her investigation led her to a secluded riverbank where she found the culprit: Maleina, cradled in the arms of Marcus, her forbidden mortal lover.

It was in that moment that the truth struck Maleina with unbearable clarity. This tragedy was her doing, her defiance of her sacred duty unraveling the delicate threads of fate. The illusion she had so recklessly spun was now collapsing around her, its remnants sharp enough to wound not just her heart, but the very order of the divine.

The wrath of Aphrodite was swift and merciless. Her arrival was a storm of beauty and fury, her golden form shimmering with a light so intense it demanded reverence and fear. Her voice, a venomous blend of rage and disappointment, cut through Maleina’s trembling defenses.

“Can’t you see what you’ve done?” Aphrodite’s words dripped with accusation, her gaze like a dagger aimed at the nymph’s soul. “You’ve disrupted nature’s sacred order. And in Poseidon’s domain, of all places.”

Maleina stood frozen, the weight of her actions crushing her spirit. Her voice, when it came, was small and broken. “I just wanted to know what it feels like…”

Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed, her divine temper teetering on the edge of a violent eruption. She stepped closer, her presence a suffocating reminder of Maleina’s failure. “To feel what, Maleina?”

The nymph’s violet eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Her answer was a whisper, fragile yet heavy with the longing that had driven her to defy the gods. “Love.”

The single word hung in the air, a confession that burned through the tension like a stray ember on dry parchment. Maleina’s heart shattered further as she realized that, in her quest to feel love, she had sown only destruction. The silence that followed was unbearable, filled with the unspoken weight of her punishment yet to come.

Aphrodite turned her back on Maleina, her movements elegant yet unnervingly cold as she walked to her gilded throne. The air in the chamber shifted, heavy and foreboding, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. With a simple snap of her fingers, two guards entered the room, dragging a limp and bloodied figure between them.

Maleina's heart dropped, her knees buckling as she recognized him.

"Marcus!" she cried, rushing forward, only to be stopped mid-step by an invisible force. Aphrodite's power pinned her in place, her outstretched hands trembling as she watched the guards drop Marcus to the floor. His body crumpled, legs dragging uselessly, his face battered and bruised beyond recognition. Blood trailed from his lips, his once-bright blue eyes barely open.

"No, no, no, please!" Maleina begged, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Don't hurt him! This isn't his fault!"

Aphrodite turned slowly, her expression devoid of sympathy. "Do you think the gods care about fault, child?" Her voice was sharp, laced with venom. "This was not my choice, but the balance must be restored. I follow orders as you should have."

Maleina fought against the unseen force, desperate to reach Marcus. "I'll fix it! I'll do anything! Please, just let him go!"

Aphrodite's gaze hardened. "You already had your chance. You chose defiance, and now you will learn the cost of disobedience."

At her signal, the guard nearest to Marcus unsheathed a blade, its edge glinting cruelly in the dim light. Maleina's screams pierced the chamber as she fought with every ounce of her strength, but she couldn't move.

"No! Stop!" she cried, her voice breaking. "Please, I love him!"

The words hung in the air like a fragile confession, but they did nothing to soften the goddess's resolve. The blade descended, sinking into Marcus's chest with brutal finality.

The sound of steel meeting flesh seemed to echo endlessly. Maleina's body froze, her mind unable to comprehend the sight of Marcus's blood spilling onto the floor, pooling beneath him. Time slowed as the guard stepped back, leaving the mortal slumped over, his life draining away.

With a snap, Aphrodite released her hold, and Maleina collapsed to the floor beside Marcus. She gathered his broken body in her arms, cradling him as though her touch could keep him tethered to the world.

"Marcus," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Stay with me, please. Don't leave me."

His eyes fluttered open briefly, the light in them dim but still holding her gaze.

"Maleina..." he rasped, his voice barely audible. "I would... do it all again... for you."

Her tears fell freely, mixing with the blood staining his chest. "I'm sorry," she choked out, pressing her forehead to his. "I'm so sorry."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and then he was gone. His body stilled, the warmth fading from his skin. Maleina clung to him, her sobs racking her body as her world shattered around her.

Aphrodite watched in silence, her expression as cold and unyielding as marble.

When she spoke, her words cut like a blade. "This is the price of your selfishness. Love is not yours to claim, Maleina. It is yours to give, nothing more."

Maleina's grip on Marcus's lifeless form tightened as Aphrodite motioned for the guards. They seized the nymph, pulling her away despite her cries and thrashing.

Her lover's blood stained her hands and gown, a haunting reminder of what she had lost.

The once vibrant and flourishing world of Corinth slowly decayed, the land withered beneath the weight of Maleina’s sorrow. The nymph, the embodiment of love, now imprisoned in her temple by Aphrodite, could no longer summon the power that once made hearts dance with desire. Her soul mourned the loss of Marcus, the mortal whose love she had so fiercely longed to taste, but now, that love was nothing but ashes in the wind.

Years passed in her isolation, a never-ending cycle of grief and longing. The temple walls, once radiant with the energy of her presence, now stood dark and cold, mirroring the void inside her heart. The nymph could no longer perform the duties she was created for, her once-bright purple eyes dull with the weight of despair. Aphrodite, though unforgiving, had left her with one instruction: to heal.

But how could a nymph of love heal when love had been taken from her so cruelly?

Meanwhile, on the shores of Corinth, the consequences of her actions were felt by mortals and gods alike. Without Maleina’s arrows to ignite the fires of passion, the world fell into chaos. Wars erupted over power, hearts grew cold, and the once harmonious relationships between gods and mortals began to fray. Even Poseidon, ruler of the seas, felt the shift—a disturbance in the natural order of things. His domain, once teeming with life and love, now felt eerily empty.

The land that once thrived on the affection and desires of its people now stood as a barren wasteland, much like Maleina’s heart—silent, aching, and devoid of the very essence that kept it alive.

Aphrodite watched from her celestial throne, a quiet anger brewing within her. She had created Maleina to be the ultimate agent of love, but the nymph had betrayed that creation by indulging in emotions she was not meant to experience. Yet, the goddess of love knew that even the gods were not immune to the consequences of love—destruction and creation alike.

The goddess of love and war leaned back in her golden throne, her expression unreadable, as the towering figure of Poseidon entered the temple. His presence was commanding, the air thickening around him as though the very sea followed in his wake. His long, dark hair cascaded like a storm, and his eyes—deep, cold, and endless as the ocean—locked onto hers without hesitation.

The goddess of love had never been one to be shaken, yet she could feel the weight of his arrival, the immense power he exuded.

“Roman,” she said, her voice cool, though the surprise in it was undeniable. “What brings you here?”

Poseidon’s gaze remained impassive, his tone as harsh as a crashing wave. “A proposition,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Aphrodite’s brow arched. “A proposition?” She tilted her head slightly, studying him. Poseidon was a god of the sea, not one to venture far from his domain, and certainly not to the temple of love. His motives were always shrouded in mystery. But today, there was no mirth or intrigue in his eyes, only cold purpose.

He took a single step forward, his tall, broad form filling the space. “The world is drowning in chaos, Aphrodite. The mortal realm is devoid of balance. And your precious creation—Maleina—has strayed too far. Her weakness has infected the world.”

Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed, though she kept her composure. “You speak as if you know what love is. What do you understand of it, Poseidon?”

Poseidon’s eyes flickered with a glint of something fierce—something dangerous, like the deep sea itself. “Love is a force of nature, like the tides. It cannot be controlled, only guided. You have let it run wild, and now the storm you’ve created threatens everything.”

Aphrodite’s lips curled into a thin smile, though there was no amusement in it. “So you’ve come to fix it? Do you think you can restore what I have built?” Her gaze flickered to Maleina’s shadowed figure in the distance, a silent reminder of the chaos that had ensued.

Poseidon’s voice grew colder, his eyes unwavering. “I don’t intend to restore what you’ve built. I intend to erase it. Maleina must return to her original purpose—no more distractions, no more false desires. She will remember who she is. Her love must not be wasted.”

Aphrodite’s breath caught, but she did not flinch. “And what makes you think you can accomplish this?”

“I will take her to my domain,” Poseidon said, his voice devoid of warmth. “I will cleanse her of your influence, restore balance, and let the tides of love once again flood the world. In return, I ask for one thing: permission to wield your power where it has been lost, to guide the broken hearts of mortals back to their true course.”

Aphrodite considered his words, her heart betraying her only for a moment. Poseidon was not here for power or gain; he was here to set things right, in his own ruthless way. He was a god of the sea, and he understood the balance of nature as no one else could.

“Very well,” she said, her voice as cold as the marble beneath her. “But know this, Poseidon: Maleina is no ordinary nymph. She was made for love, but love can break as easily as it can heal. You may find her more dangerous than you realize.”

Poseidon did not flinch. “I am not afraid of what I must do,” he said, his voice firm, unwavering. “You created her to guide love, Aphrodite. I will make her remember her true purpose, even if it means destroying the illusions she clings to.”

Aphrodite’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, her thoughts swirling. She had never seen Poseidon so determined, so utterly cold in his conviction. But in that moment, she realized that he was the only one who could undo the mess she had created.

“Go then,” Aphrodite said, her tone final. “But if you fail, it will be on your head.”

Poseidon’s lips barely twitched in acknowledgment, “I do not fail,” he said, turning away from her, his form already shifting toward the exit.

“Prepare yourself, Aphrodite. The tides are changing.”

And with that, the god of the sea left the temple, his presence like a distant thunderstorm on the horizon. Poseidon was not a god who dealt in mercy or second chances, but perhaps, just perhaps, he was the only one who could right the wrongs of the love she had forged.

As the doors closed behind him, Aphrodite’s gaze turned to where Maleina's last moments were—still broken, still lost in the chaos she had created—and she wondered what would become of the nymph now that Poseidon had entered the picture.

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