HERA OLYMPUS II
On the first evening of the weekend, the distant rumble of the city, usually a comforting hum, now sounded like a death knell. I slipped through my bedroom door, offering a silent, desperate plea to the Amazons guarding my bedroom door not to tell anyone. My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate for escape. Sneaking into Arthur's room, I inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of sandalwood and leather a balm to my frayed nerves, a phantom embrace in the empty space.
I lingered in his bathroom, the cool marble beneath my fingertips a ghostly reminder of his touch, the faint scent of his soap a cruel taunt. After cleaning myself, I donned one of his tunics, the soft fabric, a comforting weight against my skin, a tangible link to his presence.
Lying on his bed, the intense heat of the sun, the thoughts about Aphrodite, Athena, the gods, pressed down on me, the oppressive humidity mirroring the storm brewing in my soul. A few hours later, I was finally able to close my eyes and sleep. I was led to dream of the life I always wanted, the present I always wanted to live...
…
I stood in the throne room of Olympus, a spectacle of breathtaking, almost overwhelming grandeur. Full of guarding kurets, nymphs waving huge leaves to cool the throne, as usual. Towering marble columns, their ends capped in gleaming gold, stretched towards a ceiling painted with scenes of heroic battles, the colors vibrant and alive. The sunlight, filtered through the high windows, turned the polished marble floor into mirror, reflecting the splendor of the room.
The huge throne itself, crafted from ivory and plated in pure gold, its back was high rounded at the top, had six majestic steps, each one gleaming like a promise. Two golden dragons, one statue beside each armrest, their scales shimmered with an inner light, guarded the throne, their eyes fixed on some distant, unseen point, their expressions impassive, yet menacing. The air hummed with power and divinity.
Arthur sat upon the throne of Olympus, in the divine palace. Even in the dream, his gaze was dead, his expression unreadable, his face a mask of cold indifference. His skin, bronzed by the sun, stretched taut over his strong, handsome features, the lines around his eyes etched deeper than I remembered. Dark, unruly hair cascaded over his shoulders, framing a face both beautiful and severe, a face that haunted my waking hours.
He wore a magnificent golden crown, its runes etched with diamonds that pulsed with a soft, ethereal light. A withe and gold gi, embroidered with golden dragons, flowed around his powerful frame. He observed Aphrodite, his chin resting on his hand, his expression one of cold, detached judgment, his eyes like chips of ice. Two amazons held her, her struggles weak against their implacable grip, her body trembling with fear.
— Hang her in front of the people! — Arthur's voice boomed, echoing through the vast hall, making Aphrodite jump, the sound was resonating with a terrifying finality. — Let all witness the consequences of an attempt on the life of my queen and my heir. — He gestured dismissively, a flick of his wrist sealed her fate, and the amazons dragged Aphrodite away, her feet scraping against the marble floor, the sound grating counterpoint to the silence of the hall.
— NO! ARTHUR, FORGIVE ME!! — Her cries echoed, raw and desperate, the sound tearing at my heart, a visceral pain that made me want to scream.
Blood stained her garments, the coppery scent stinging my nostrils, a sickeningly familiar smell. Her face was swollen and bruised, a testament to her torture, her eyes wide with terror. She could barely stand, her weight supported entirely by the amazons, her body slumped in defeat.
— Son, you have done well. Even though she was your wife, she crossed the line! Treat the queen that way?! — a voice purred, full of approval, a chillingly calm tone in the face of such brutality.
Queen Andromeda applauded, stood beside me, her presence radiating like a physical force, her eyes glittering with satisfaction. Her crimson dress, edged with gold, shimmered in the light, the fabric whispering against the marble.
A delicate crown of flowers rested upon her head, its fragile beauty a stark contrast to the ruthlessness in her eyes. Rubies glowed in her hair, at her neck, and in her ears, each gem a tiny drop of blood in her splendor. She was radiant, a regal beauty, yet her heart was as cold as Arthur's.
I stood beside the throne, in a white robe, my neckline and sleeves adorned with gold jewels, each one a tiny weight pulling me down.
Arthur's large and warm hand reached out and gently caressed my stomach, a touch that sent a shiver down my spine, a mixture of longing and fear. I place my hand over his, a soft smile gracing my lips, a fragile mask over the turmoil within. — In a couple of days... — I whispered, my voice filled with anticipation and hope.
Arthur looked at me, a smile transforming his features, a smile that I rarely saw, a smile of pure, unadulterated joy. His touch, warm and reassuring, sent a flutter through me, a feeling of security and love that felt both real and impossibly distant, a memory of a happiness that might never be.
As we spoke, the massive gates of the throne room swung open, and three noble children, radiant with youthful energy, rushed towards us, their laughter echoing through the hall.
— Don't run into the throne room! — a gruff voice barked, shattering the fragile peace.
Butler stood at the foot of the throne steps, his black gi stark against the opulent surroundings, a shadow in the golden light. His hands were clasped behind his back, his gaze stern, his face etched with disapproval.
The children slowed, their exuberance checked, their laughter dying in their throats. Stood together, bowing their heads, their small bodies trembling slightly. — Forgive us, Great Sovereign... — they chorused, their big and cuddly eyes wide and pleading.
They were Arthur's children undeniably. Their golden eyes, pale skin, and a chock of white hair were a blend of his features and mine, a living testament to our love, a love that now seemed so fragile, so threatened. A girl and two boys, their faces filled with an innocent charm, their presence a beacon of hope in the gathering storm.
Arthur sighed with a tired expression, a flicker of warmth in his icy gaze. — Sigh... Sure... Come here...
The children surged forward, their pent-up energy released, their small feet pounding against the marble floor.
— Grandmother! — The eldest, a miniature version of Arthur, raced towards Andromeda, his face alight with joy, the same face Arthur had with Cassandra.
The girl, my image in miniature, her deep snowy hair streaming behind her, ran towards the throne, her eyes fixed on Arthur — Daddy! — she cried, her voice ringing with delight, a sound that pierced my heart.
The smallest of the three, his tiny limbs moving with surprising speed, latched onto my leg, his grip surprisingly strong. He was so small, so precious. A wave of tenderness washed over me, a bittersweet ache in my chest, and I scooped him up into my arms, his small body warm and comforting.
He wrapped his arms around my neck, his soft breath warm against my skin. — Mommy, — he whispered, — we've finished today's practice...
The three of them were my children... With Arthur...
— You're breaking the rules, child! — Arthur grumbled, though a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes, a fleeting glimpse of the man I loved. — You can't touch me when I'm on the throne...
— Mother said that daddy's way of showing love is by pushing, — the girl giggled, throwing her arms around Arthur's neck, her small body pressed against his. — So, I love you too, daddy...
Arthur's eyes widened, a blush creeping up his cheeks, a rare display of vulnerability. A warmth spread through me at the sight of his unguarded joy, a warmth that chased away the chill for just a moment.
...
The scene shifted, the images blurring and reforming like magic. I found myself in the private training room of the King of Olympus, a space of polished cedar and imperial brown marble. Five marble pillars in a row with spacing between them, the room emanated strength and discipline.
Weapons of all kinds lined one wall, from slender spears to deadly arrows, each one a symbol of power and danger. Small windows high in the walls allowed shafts of sunlight to illuminate the room, dust motes dancing in the golden rays. I sat on a bench, my hand resting protectively on my surprisingly huge swollen belly.
Arthur, wearing only white trousers, stood before me, sweat glistening on his powerful muscles, his body was extremely well defined, his muscles, his veins... Wow... He leaned his sword on his shoulder, his gaze fixed on me, his eyes were unreadable, were dead.
— Do you think he'll be as handsome as you...? — I asked, my voice soft, laced with affection.
He rolled his eyes, a playful smile tugging at his lips, a smile that made my heart melt. He crossed the room and stood before me, his presence filling my vision, his majesty radiating outwards. — What did you come here for?
I struggled to my feet, a movement that was increasingly difficult, my body heavy with the burden of pregnancy. I reached out, my fingers tracing the contours of his body—a liberty I would never dare take in waking life, a touch that was both forbidden and desperately craved.
— What do you want...? — he asked, his eyes flickering with a mixture of amusement and something deeper, something that made my heart yearn for him with and intensity that was almost painful, a yearning that echoed the ache in my womb.
He was so tall, so imposing, a tower of strength and masculinity. I had to stretch on my tiptoe to reach his lips, my body swaying precariously. I placed my right hand on his cheek, the rough stubble scratching against my skin, the other on his hard abdomen, feeling the heat radiating from his body.