Chapter Five

We left the archery clearing, but as it was such a lovely day upon the earth, we decided to not yet return to Olympus, and strolled instead through this favored wilderness of my sister's.

Far from where any of her hunting arrows might strike, mind you.

"She is a good sister and loves you dearly," Dax said, hand entwined with mine as we neared a bubbling brook that filled the forest around us with a natural hypnotic calm.

It was beautiful here. One of the reasons Artemis liked its nearby areas for hunting was because it was far from any settlements, which meant fewer opportunities for another Acteon to discover her bathing. It was also a favored spot for us to meet when we wanted company only with each other.

That she had given her blessing, in her own way, for Dax to be here too, meant a great deal.

"I love her dearly too," I said. "As two halves made more whole together, we are often of the same mind. Not to say we have never disagreed or fought. We are in that way like neighboring city-states, sometimes too alike to not devolve into disagreement and—"

A rapid-fire vision assaulted my senses, taking over all I could see. The calm forest and its brook became neighboring city-states, just as I had thoughtlessly conjured, prompting a prophecy of one such disagreement about to erupt.

I saw them squabbling over trade, a misunderstanding, an accidental death that escalates into war, and that war spills over into other city-states, other nations, and—

"Apollo!"

All triggered by something as trivial as a traveling merchant setting up shop in a local's stall.

Mortals.

"Is everything all right?" Dax pulled me from my vision with a squeeze of my hand, and his other hand wrapped around the back of my neck in preparation to embrace me should I need something more to ground my footing.

I did not need protection. I did not need a warrior at my side or a shield in front of me. It did not matter if Dax could hit the center of an archery target to rival me and my sister's talents. Yet he acted as protector of me purely on instinct, as anyone would for a treasured companion. "Being the god of prophecy has its drawbacks," I explained. "I see the potential for war. I must intervene. Now." I pried his fingers from my neck with delicate care and brought both his hands in front of me to lift them to my lips.

"Is it serious?" he asked.

"No more than usual. If only you knew how frequently your cities and nations are on the brink of war that could rival the decimation of the Trojans."

"I think I would prefer to not know that," Dax said. "And I am sorry you do."

"Someone must, for if such devastation can be avoided with the smallest… nudge, I must act. Easier before things escalate, and my fellow gods and I start picking sides again. Shall I return you to Olympus?" I asked, lowering his hands between us, but still holding them, still content to be in contact.

"Will you be long?"

"I do not think so. I will be finished before the sun sets." I nodded toward where it hung in the sky, pulled by my driverless chariot.

"Then let me stay," Dax beseeched. "Return to me here. It is lovely, and I do not mind waiting for you with such breathtaking views as my company."

His handsome face, warm eyes, long locks of chestnut brown, and the figure of him so striking in his short, one-shoulder tunic, made me certain that Dax was the more breathtaking view.

"Then that is what I shall do. Await my return."

I flew off, disguising myself once I reached my destination, and sought to simply guide the wayward merchant to a different stall. A simple thing, but one that would affect the ripples of devastation that could have followed.

Afterward, I had a new vision of the same city-states in peaceful accord. Content that I had succeeded, I returned to the forest. As guessed, the sun was low but not yet set.

I landed a ways off so I could approach Dax from afar and enjoy watching him. He had traveled a bit from where I'd left him, down the bank of the brook, skipping stones and balancing on larger rocks and tree stumps, as he basked in the beauty of a summer eve.

Again, I thought, he was more the beauty than the scenery. His strong limbs and broad shoulders. The curves of his calves and breadth of his thighs. His one visible nipple from how he wore his chiton over one shoulder, showing how pert it was from the coming coolness of night, how ripe to be brushed against with the pad of a finger and brought to further hardness.

My loins ached for him, but more importantly, my heart did. I had to listen to my heart. I had to take my time. If something was to stand between us and any lasting bliss, let it not this time be me.

Dax leapt from one rock to another along the bank, but the second one proved loose. He teetered, pitching precariously forward to plummet into the brook's waters—

Only for a strong wind to blow through the trees. Dax's teetering forward became a topple backward instead, and he stumbled off the rock onto solid ground. He laughed as if he had never been in danger.

But I knew that wind, coming as it had… from the west.

"Show yourself, Zephyrus," I commanded, keeping hidden from Dax behind a nearby tree.

The winged god of the West Wind materialized out of the air with a gentle drop upon sandaled feet. His spread wings tucked in at his sides as he settled.

Zephyrus was beautiful, as all gods are. Yes, all. I too knew the beauty of Hephaestus that some scorned, perhaps because I saw the beauty in mortals that many of my brethren did not. But Zephyrus was beautiful in the way poets praise—or at least half of him was.

The other half I had burned by holding him to Helios's flaming surface from one long dawn until dusk.

He wore a black tunic, simple, unadorned. His hair was black as well, long, and wavy, to hide that scarred side of his face. He had one silver eye, while the hidden one was milky and blind.

"‘Twas my intention to save, my lord god, not harm," Zephyrus said, as he took a knee before me and bowed. The gentlest of the wind gods, I remember once thinking. Perhaps others still did. Zephyrus was a tender spring breeze. Until you loved the same mortal as him, and he would rather see that mortal dead than allow him to be with someone else.

"You think it wise to be in the vicinity of any mortal I court," I seethed, "once fairest of the Anemoi, son of the dawn?"

"Perhaps not, my lord, but I swear," he spoke to the earth beneath him, not daring to meet my gaze, "my intent is only absolution."

More, I assumed, that he recognized the perils present should I lose a beloved again.

Surely, I would scorch all the world and everyone on Olympus to ashes until I too was slain. Not prophecy, simply truth. After bearing my rage once all on his own, Zephyrus knew the fragility of my heart.

"Rise," I said, "or I fear I might stomp you into the dirt until your other half is unrecognizable too. And I do not wish to."

He glanced up at last, slowly stood, and while he held his head high, his wings quivered from being in my presence. Part of me was glad, vindicated, but I could not keep living inside the shell of my wallowing.

"I believe you that your intentions were good, that you seek only forgiveness. Understand, I cannot forgive you."

Zephyrus's wings quivered again, pulling tighter to his back, perhaps in readiness to flee should I lash out like before.

"I also recognize that you might never be able to forgive me for how I chose to retaliate. But I wish you no further harm. I wish for you to heal… in body and heart."

He flinched as I reached for his cheek but did not attempt to flee or pull away. Even the gods cannot heal all. There are exceptions, as one like Hephaestus knows well. But because I caused this damage with the power of my domain, I too could clear it away.

A gasp left Zephyrus at what was no doubt a soothing warmth, as the spot where I touched him glowed like an auburn sunset. The light, the healing, traveled all down the side of him where the burns continued beneath his tunic. But one spot remained a visible scar—in the same place at Zephyrus's temple to match where Hyacinth had borne his death blow.

I tapped there as the glow faded, upon the scar that remained, and Zephyrus reached up to feel it. Because he too had loved Hyacinth, and Hyacinth chose me, he dared take that sweet mortal from this earth with an errant wind that struck a fatal blow with a discus, something I now loathed, when once I had greatly enjoyed the sport.

Zephyrus had worn the scars of my vengeance ever since, but the recognition in his eyes of the scar he would yet have to bear was enough.

Let it be enough now.

"Thank you," he said. He hesitated, as if unsure whether there was more to say between us. When he finally shifted to leave, there was more, I realized, as one question came to me.

"Have you ever… visited him? In Elysian?"

Zephyrus stood still, half turned away, like he still had scars to hide. "Once."

"And did he forgive you?"

A somber smile twitched at Zephyrus's lips. "He did. And in his forgiveness, I felt only grief."

"As did I," I said, recalling when I last saw Hyacinth, and he chose a mortal afterlife over rebirth with me. "I wish only for you to find a love that is returned to you, Zephyrus, not with the force and brutality of a discus, but with the tenderness of your own once gentle breeze."

There at last did I see his wings flutter with a sense of peace. "Thank you," he said again. "I wish the same for you."

He winged away, vanishing just as his feet left the ground. My heart felt… lighter, and with that ease, I peered around the tree to seek out Dax.

Who was gone!

"That was a kind thing you did." He stepped out from behind the tree before further panic could set in, or for me to have foolishly raced down the bank in search of him. He was a remarkable mortal to have eavesdropped on two gods.

But that meant he'd heard.

He knew.

"Zephyrus saved you," I tried to explain.

Dax nodded, leaning against the tree now. "Saved me from a tumble into a shallow brook? Maybe a stubbed toe? Much as I appreciate it, truly, I think I would have survived."

The danger had been minimal, yes, and I felt foolish for not having a response. I'd still feared, and Zephyrus had still intervened.

"The scars he had…" Dax continued. "You did that to him? Because of what he did to Hyacinth?"

I had hoped this conversation would never come, but I couldn't avoid it now. "Isn't it often said by mortals that the gods are cruel? And loving them or being loved by them is a curse more than any blessing."

Dax pushed from the tree. "Apollo, I do not think what you did was cruel. I think it very… human to feel rage with loss. To want retribution when wronged."

"Hyacinth felt otherwise."

"You said Hyacinth might have been reborn to be with you but spurned you for your reaction to losing him."

"Yes. He was afraid of me." I felt the heat in my eyes starting to boil over and tried to turn my head.

Dax caught the side of my face and turned it to make me look at him. "Then he did not love you as you deserve to be loved. True love means accepting all of someone, at their best and worst."

"True love also means wanting to be the best of oneself for one's partner," I countered, "and striving with everything in you to be better."

"Yes," Dax agreed, but then added, "while the other is forgiving when you fail."

It was then that the dam of boiling water broke, spilling forth the tears from my eyes like lava fissures down my cheeks. Would that they could burn me—but no. No. Their heat filled not the endless chasm of my grief, but my heart. My heart and my yearning and all my wasted desires that I had scorned for so long felt… full. Scorn that had caused me to look away from Icarus and fail to save him when he fell. Scorn that had made me punishing and irrational with Aikos, when all I wanted was to have what Dax offered me now.

I swept him into my arms with all my godly strength and crashed my lips upon his. I delved my tongue between his teeth with abandon, pushing him back until the trunk of the tree was our bracing point. I was running too hot, enough that I heard Dax hiss despite the seal of our mouths. The boiling within me was not only my tears spilling but all I had been denying myself needing some means of escape, and I… wanted Dax desperately.

I kissed him harder, too hot, too fierce, too filled with unbridled passion to hold back. Though Dax held me, reciprocated, moaned even, and pressed into the firm crowding of my body against his, he made no attempt to lead. He followed. He let me set the pace, and my pace was a meteor shooting across the sky, blinking in and out of existence in its haste.

I could feel Dax's cock through his tunic and reached up beneath it. His thighs were warm, powerful, and eager to part for me, urging me to continue my trek between them.

I wanted to. I did. I tried. But as my hand began to shake, and my mouth's urgency stilled on his, I found myself unable to reach farther.

"I-I… I'm sorry," I said, feeling the cool stickiness of my tears, slowly turning to steam, and rising from my skin. I needed to collect myself, to either push for more or to remove my hands from him and cease this awful inadequacy. I could feel Dax's panted breaths on my lips, but as much as I wanted him, I could not cross the breach. Surely, he would be even more disappointed than before, and knowing that, I dared not look up but needed to pull away first—

"Shall we return then?" he said, steady, breathless though he was. He tilted my chin up, and his cheeks were flushed and lips kiss-bitten, but his eyes held only bliss. He leaned forward to kiss my lips, lighter than I had kissed his, and then took my hand from beneath his tunic, from the taut surface of his thigh, and brought my fingers to his lips to kiss them next. "To Olympus," he affirmed, "to part ways until you seek me again tomorrow?"

Oh, how I loved him already.

I kissed Dax with the same tenderness he had shown me.

My heart said thank you, while my lips simply answered, "Yes."