Summary: After yet another night of intense passion, Amphitrite finds herself rising surprisingly early- meaning she has plenty of time to reminisce and to indulge in her favorite morning ritual with her husband.
Characters: Poseidon x Amphitrite
AN: Another fun one shot!! Couldn’t get these two out of my head since chapter 3 of Love & Other Lies (chapter 4 is next, I promise!) so enjoy a more in depth look at their relationship <3
Word Count: 2700+
Read it on Ao3!
The heavy scent of sea salt and sin still hung in the silent, pitch-black air of the royal bedchambers, the hidden sanctuary deep beneath the sea no longer lit by even the faintest glow of candlelight. They’d all burned out hours ago by now, the soothing scent of lavender long since disappearing into the night as the Lord and Lady of the seas remained quite preoccupied with one another’s company. Amphitrite had little sense of precisely when hypnos had lulled herself and her husband into its embrace rather than one another’s, but she was certain of the hour approaching now.
She could sense it, as surely as she felt the weight of her husband’s sleeping form in her arms. The sea was beginning to awaken.
Deep below the waves, there was always something awake and aware, in search of either prey or protection. But above the depths where Amphitrite herself resided, she could feel the shifting energies as the first of her subjects steadily awoke from their slumbers, and others began to hide from what was fast approaching.
The Ocean Queen smiled to herself, her gaze resting upon the all too rarely peaceful form of her husband. Sunrise would be very soon.
With eyes naturally well-suited to the undersea darkness, Amphitrite found it easy to study Poseidon’s sleeping form as he rested by her side, even with the total lack of light. The way their pale, sandy-colored sheets draped across his tanned olive skin, littered with faint scars she often requested her husband remind her the stories of as they laid side by side awaiting sleep. Amphitrite had done the same only hours ago as they finally collapsed onto their wedding bed, just as exhausted and satisfied as ever, tracing an old battle scar along Poseidon’s shoulder– if only to see the way his chest puffed up with pride as he regaled his wife with the familiar tale.
“You’ve forgotten this one already, my jewel?” Poseidon had wondered aloud as he drew his love into his embrace, each of them still basking in the afterglow as well as the warmth and softness of one another’s body. “I’m surprised at you.”
At the time, Amphitrite had only shrugged and smiled as she pulled the covers over herself and her husband, stroking his silky, pin-straight hair as he rested his head upon her breast and began his story. With the way Poseidon had stared at her lips, Amphitrite recalled briefly thinking some of her husband’s ichor was still lingering on her pointed, pearly teeth.
The way he kissed her brought no clarity.
…It had been the sound of Poseidon’s voice that drew her to sleep, as it so often did. Whether it be an old war story, an account of the day’s events, or one of Poseidon’s endless diatribes about his most favored four-hooved creations… Amphitrite could not help but find herself soothed into restfulness by the sound of that smooth, lilting voice. The content simply wasn’t of her concern– she knew all his stories by heart. Of course, her dear husband needn’t know that.
Recalling the memory now as she laid in the dark, Amphitrite lightly trailed her fingertips along Poseidon’s shoulder— following the arc of the scar she had asked about hours before.
The goddess’ piercing eyes followed the same arc as that particular scar lead up, just barely onto Poseidon’s chest, near his collarbone. Hesitantly withdrawing her hand so as not to wake him, Amphitrite trailed her gaze up the column of his throat, so often hidden from sight and decorated with heavy silver jewelry. Now, it was instead decorated just as Amphitrite saw fit. It was undoubtedly true that her husband vastly preferred to drape himself in silver. …But laying here, the Lady of the seas found herself inclined to believe that the subtle golden stain of ichor lingering on his throat suited him far better.
Finally, trailing upwards, the goddess’ gaze rested upon the relaxed, sleeping face of her love. Amphitrite was intimately familiar with each and every detail… and yet she found her husband just as strikingly handsome as the day they’d first met.
…They were so young back then.
The two of them had grown so much, both together and apart, that at times Amphitrite struggled to recall precisely what they’d been like before. Which one of them did their shared mannerisms originate from? Had she always loved the smell of lavender, and Poseidon had taken notice? …Or did she begin loving it only because he gifted it to her so often? And yet, Amphitrite recalled the first time they’d been introduced with as much clarity as what she saw before her eyes now.
The very first time the warring Olympians had been able to visit Oceanus’ palace to rest and recuperate, the excitement buzzing throughout the halls that Amphitrite paid no mind to. The sea goddess would have left to escape the noise if Hera, only newly considered a dear sister of hers back then, hadn’t insisted Amphitrite stay to meet her siblings— as well as the newest addition to their group, Zeus. Amphitrite recalled wondering why Hera never called him her brother, even if they’d just met— she supposes she knows why now. She had just been about to ask Hera about the matter when the shorter goddess linked their arms, eagerly escorting her to socialize with the siblings Hera had missed so dearly.
At the time, Amphitrite puzzled over the fact that Hera led her right past Hades and Hestia— given how highly she spoke of them, it seemed more than a bit unusual. Instead, Hera brought Amphitrite directly to her younger brother so she could introduce them. …The moment Poseidon turned to greet them, Amphitrite should have known. Damned goddess of marriage. Amphitrite could find it in herself to despise Hera’s matchmaking if only it wasn’t always eventually proven right.
…His eyes had been the first thing Amphitrite noticed. Intelligent, overconfident, and… strikingly blue, as the ocean on the brightest and hottest summer day in a year long since past. The very essence of her beloved home, captured in those eyes.
Poseidon’s features, still young and unmarred by time and tragedy, were angular and elegant— far closer to Hera’s than to any of his other siblings. Amphitrite faintly recalled wondering if the handsome young soldier standing in front of her had lined his eyes with makeup, or if his eyelashes were simply that thick and dark. During their eventual courtship so many years later, she would come to learn the answer was both. His cascading, inky black hair- almost blueish in its depth- had been so much shorter then, falling only to his shoulders rather than its current floor-length glory. …It was amusing to think that Amphitrite found it excessive back then, but utterly adored it in its current state.
Carefully, Amphitrite captured one of the cascading locks that fell across Poseidon’s face with one of her long, painted nails. …It really was beautiful worn this long, even compared to the admittedly flattering shorter styles he’d been forced to adopt during their youth. Tucking it behind his ear, Amphitrite expertly avoided allowing the strand of hair to be caught in any of the many silver earrings decorating it, left in their shared haste to fall into bed together. The goddess smiles to herself in the darkness, the face of her love finally unobstructed.
There he is.
…As vehemently as he liked to deny it, strands of Poseidon’s brows and beard were beginning to appear lighter now. Subtly enough that it could be denied, but still noticeable whenever he and Amphitrite were close like this. Amphitrite was all but certain that once it reached his hair, the seas would be in no way calm for some time. For now, though… it was something she could admire in their quiet moments, the subtle touches of silver– moonlight over a dark sea– only bringing further attention to his handsome features.
In the centuries passed since they’d first been introduced lifetimes ago, Amphitrite still found it difficult to say that those features had aged much at all. Poseidon had grown into them, certainly, but in so many ways he never ceased to resemble that young soldier.
Admittedly it was now, deep in the embrace of gentle sleep, that the resemblance was most uncanny.
Poseidon’s shapely jawline, prominent cheekbones, perfectly angled brows, dark lashes, and invitingly plump lips all remained just as they had been so long ago. Only slightly altered by the furrow of his brow that seemed to linger even in sleep. Perhaps a consequence of the stresses of ruling over such a tempermental domain for so long, perhaps only the result of his own wicked temper. …Not that Amphitrite could speak on such things.
Of course, there was one thing that would always remain, constant and comforting, no matter how many centuries had passed. The Goddess of the Seas smiles, a warmth stirring in her chest at the very thought of what’s to come— a rare indulgence, given the early hour she’s found herself unexpectedly awake for. Within herself, Amphitrite could sense the sea’s continued awakening, the moment at hand fast approaching.
It was time.
Reaching out, Amphitrite smoothed the furrowed brow of her husband with the pad of her thumb, catching and brushing away another lock of inky, dark hair with the same motion. The Lord of the seas stirred from his sleep at his wife’s gentle caress, pulled even further upwards from the depths by the brush of her lips against his own. Even captured by the spell of Hypnos, Poseidon chased Amphitrite’s addictive kiss, pulled as though by the tides. Subtle though it may be, Amphitrite is graced with a glimpse of a boyish, cocky grin that seemed much more suited to the face of that young soldier she met than the fully matured king whom she now shared a bed with. Mercifully, that smile remains as Poseidon’s dark lashes flutter open.
By the gods, just look at those eyes.
Even in the utter darkness of their bedchambers so early in the morning, Amphitrite found herself utterly captivated. As they fluttered open, Poseidon’s eyes were still tinted a deep muted shade of blue. Though not quite the endlessly dark, all-consuming black they had been as the pair drifted to sleep. The Lady of the seas grinned as she studied the eyes of her husband– she hadn’t missed it yet.
Poseidon groaned almost inaudibly as he stretched his well-used muscles– as effectively as he could without so much as bothering to lift his head from the pillow he’d claimed for the evening. Rather, he pressed his face further into it as he rolled his right shoulder, simultaneously wrapping his muscled arm firmly around his wife, pulling her close and soaking in the warmth of her body against his. Poseidon’s voice emerges from his throat as more of a groan as well, a deep baritone as his voice is dragged low in his chest from the weight of sleep.
“…It’s still dark out, jewel.~ We don’t need to be awake for hours.” Poseidon drawls, the smug grin on his lips still lingering as his warm hand pressed against the bare skin of his wife’s back. “…Unless you’ve something else on your mind, Amphi?”
“Later,” Amphitrite mutters the promise against her husband’s lips. She lingers, only breaking the steadily deepening kiss once she was good and ready. Amphitrite relishes the way Poseidon chased her lips a second time. “…I’d like to watch the sunrise this morning.” She whispers as though she’s making a confession, her hushed tone seemingly enforced by the veil of darkness surrounding them.
The momentarily hungry expression on the face of Amphitrite’s husband near instantly dissolved into something unspeakably tender– typically reserved exclusively for his doting wife and their precious children. “…It’s been some time, hasn’t it?” Poseidon questions softly, lowering his own voice to a whisper.
“…We’ve just been kept so busy lately.”
“I know.”
“…I’ve missed it.”
“I know.”
“So, may I?”
“Always.”
As Poseidon whispered this final affirmation, he gingerly took hold of his wife’s hand, guiding it to cradle one side of his face. “I’m yours to view, my jewel.” Amphitrite’s husband cooed softly, turning his head to press a tender, lingering kiss to his wife’s palm as he refused to break her gaze.
“However,” the Lord of the seas began again, taking on a playful tone. “If you can possibly find it in your merciful heart to forgive me for neglecting you in such a way, my love–” Poseidon reaches over, brushing one of Amphitrite’s thick curls behind her ear before motioning to their nightstand, where several candles lit the night before still rested. “…I’d appreciate the privilege of viewing you properly.~ …I presume you’d not prefer I be squinting to admire you through the darkness?”
Amphitrite snickered, fondly rolling her eyes both at her husband’s words and at Poseidon’s steadily widening grin– the one he always had when he was trying to make her laugh. Still, she obliged his request, momentarily leaving his embrace so she could sit up properly and relight the lavender scented candles on their bedside table.
“…It’s a privilege, is it?” The ocean queen questioned with a smirk, glancing down at her king lounging in their rumpled sheets– all pulled out of place from the previous night’s activities.
“Everything you give to me in our marriage bed is a privilege, my jewel.~”
“That it is.” Amphitrite hummed approvingly, lighting the last of the candles as the scent of lavender steadily creeped into the air once more. “Is that alright?” She questioned with a glance over her shoulder, finding Poseidon’s eyes lingering on her.
“Utter perfection.” Poseidon praised, not entirely remarking on the much more practical lighting their bedchambers were now cast in.
With no need for any further words, Poseidon simply opened his arms to invite his dearest Amphitrite to return to his embrace. She accepted his invitation eagerly, sinking back into the plush comfort of their marriage bed as her husband wrapped his strong arms and their soft sheets around her bare form. Yet Amphitrite pulled Poseidon closer still, wrapping her arms around his neck and toying with his hair, pressing their bodies together until she was practically nose to nose with her dear husband.
“..Has it begun yet?” Poseidon questioned after a minute or so, smiling fondly at the rapt attention Amphitrite was paying him. Her momentary silence provided him the answer he sought before her voice had the chance.
“Yes.”
Amphitrite paid no mind to how breathless and quiet her voice sounded as it spilled from her lips, nor to the way her husband softly chuckled at the obvious adoration laced within that single word. There was nothing that could steal her attention away from what was in front of her. The thing she adored most about her infinitely beloved husband.
Ever since she and Poseidon had begun their courtship, Amphitrite found herself openly laughing at those who dared to compare their lover’s eyes to the color of the sea. Whether they be god or mortal, the color dim or bright, gleaming blue or stormy grey– they were all wrong. Laughably wrong. In truth, there had only been one soul in all of the vastness of eternity who’d been given eyes that were truly the shade of the sea, as far as Amphitrite herself had ever seen or ever known.
Not a single one of those poets and pompous romantics had ever been blessed with this sight.
It still stole Amphitrite’s breath from her lips, no matter how many times her husband allowed her the joy of watching it each morning. …Watching as the impossibly dark shade of his eyes was steadily invaded by ripples of a deep red hue, slowly giving way to glimmers of vibrant orange, fading out into softer shades… then finally cut through with brilliant, gleaming, golden yellow. Those gentle ripples shone bright as the sun as Poseidon’s eyes reflected its light in the very same way his waters did in that precise moment.
On the first morning after they’d been married, Amphitrite had awoken Poseidon to walk along the beach with her as they watched the sun rise. Tired though he was, not to mention far more uncoordinated in the dark than Amphitrite, he had obliged without question. That had been the day she fully discovered this treasure of hers.
Each morning of their honeymoon after the first, and any morning since, neither Amphitrite nor Poseidon make any move to leave the comfort of their bed and rush to the coastline when she asks him to let her watch the sunrise.
As far as Amphitrite was concerned, that’s not where the sunrise is.
Summary: After yet another night of intense passion, Amphitrite finds herself rising surprisingly early- meaning she has plenty of time to reminisce and to indulge in her favorite morning ritual with her husband.
Characters: Poseidon x Amphitrite
AN: Another fun one shot!! Couldn’t get these two out of my head since chapter 3 of Love & Other Lies (chapter 4 is next, I promise!) so enjoy a more in depth look at their relationship <3
Word Count: 2700+
Read it on Ao3!
The heavy scent of sea salt and sin still hung in the silent, pitch-black air of the royal bedchambers, the hidden sanctuary deep beneath the sea no longer lit by even the faintest glow of candlelight. They’d all burned out hours ago by now, the soothing scent of lavender long since disappearing into the night as the Lord and Lady of the seas remained quite preoccupied with one another’s company. Amphitrite had little sense of precisely when hypnos had lulled herself and her husband into its embrace rather than one another’s, but she was certain of the hour approaching now.
She could sense it, as surely as she felt the weight of her husband’s sleeping form in her arms. The sea was beginning to awaken.
Deep below the waves, there was always something awake and aware, in search of either prey or protection. But above the depths where Amphitrite herself resided, she could feel the shifting energies as the first of her subjects steadily awoke from their slumbers, and others began to hide from what was fast approaching.
The Ocean Queen smiled to herself, her gaze resting upon the all too rarely peaceful form of her husband. Sunrise would be very soon.
With eyes naturally well-suited to the undersea darkness, Amphitrite found it easy to study Poseidon’s sleeping form as he rested by her side, even with the total lack of light. The way their pale, sandy-colored sheets draped across his tanned olive skin, littered with faint scars she often requested her husband remind her the stories of as they laid side by side awaiting sleep. Amphitrite had done the same only hours ago as they finally collapsed onto their wedding bed, just as exhausted and satisfied as ever, tracing an old battle scar along Poseidon’s shoulder– if only to see the way his chest puffed up with pride as he regaled his wife with the familiar tale.
“You’ve forgotten this one already, my jewel?” Poseidon had wondered aloud as he drew his love into his embrace, each of them still basking in the afterglow as well as the warmth and softness of one another’s body. “I’m surprised at you.”
At the time, Amphitrite had only shrugged and smiled as she pulled the covers over herself and her husband, stroking his silky, pin-straight hair as he rested his head upon her breast and began his story. With the way Poseidon had stared at her lips, Amphitrite recalled briefly thinking some of her husband’s ichor was still lingering on her pointed, pearly teeth.
The way he kissed her brought no clarity.
…It had been the sound of Poseidon’s voice that drew her to sleep, as it so often did. Whether it be an old war story, an account of the day’s events, or one of Poseidon’s endless diatribes about his most favored four-hooved creations… Amphitrite could not help but find herself soothed into restfulness by the sound of that smooth, lilting voice. The content simply wasn’t of her concern– she knew all his stories by heart. Of course, her dear husband needn’t know that.
Recalling the memory now as she laid in the dark, Amphitrite lightly trailed her fingertips along Poseidon’s shoulder— following the arc of the scar she had asked about hours before.
The goddess’ piercing eyes followed the same arc as that particular scar lead up, just barely onto Poseidon’s chest, near his collarbone. Hesitantly withdrawing her hand so as not to wake him, Amphitrite trailed her gaze up the column of his throat, so often hidden from sight and decorated with heavy silver jewelry. Now, it was instead decorated just as Amphitrite saw fit. It was undoubtedly true that her husband vastly preferred to drape himself in silver. …But laying here, the Lady of the seas found herself inclined to believe that the subtle golden stain of ichor lingering on his throat suited him far better.
Finally, trailing upwards, the goddess’ gaze rested upon the relaxed, sleeping face of her love. Amphitrite was intimately familiar with each and every detail… and yet she found her husband just as strikingly handsome as the day they’d first met.
…They were so young back then.
The two of them had grown so much, both together and apart, that at times Amphitrite struggled to recall precisely what they’d been like before. Which one of them did their shared mannerisms originate from? Had she always loved the smell of lavender, and Poseidon had taken notice? …Or did she begin loving it only because he gifted it to her so often? And yet, Amphitrite recalled the first time they’d been introduced with as much clarity as what she saw before her eyes now.
The very first time the warring Olympians had been able to visit Oceanus’ palace to rest and recuperate, the excitement buzzing throughout the halls that Amphitrite paid no mind to. The sea goddess would have left to escape the noise if Hera, only newly considered a dear sister of hers back then, hadn’t insisted Amphitrite stay to meet her siblings— as well as the newest addition to their group, Zeus. Amphitrite recalled wondering why Hera never called him her brother, even if they’d just met— she supposes she knows why now. She had just been about to ask Hera about the matter when the shorter goddess linked their arms, eagerly escorting her to socialize with the siblings Hera had missed so dearly.
At the time, Amphitrite puzzled over the fact that Hera led her right past Hades and Hestia— given how highly she spoke of them, it seemed more than a bit unusual. Instead, Hera brought Amphitrite directly to her younger brother so she could introduce them. …The moment Poseidon turned to greet them, Amphitrite should have known. Damned goddess of marriage. Amphitrite could find it in herself to despise Hera’s matchmaking if only it wasn’t always eventually proven right.
…His eyes had been the first thing Amphitrite noticed. Intelligent, overconfident, and… strikingly blue, as the ocean on the brightest and hottest summer day in a year long since past. The very essence of her beloved home, captured in those eyes.
Poseidon’s features, still young and unmarred by time and tragedy, were angular and elegant— far closer to Hera’s than to any of his other siblings. Amphitrite faintly recalled wondering if the handsome young soldier standing in front of her had lined his eyes with makeup, or if his eyelashes were simply that thick and dark. During their eventual courtship so many years later, she would come to learn the answer was both. His cascading, inky black hair- almost blueish in its depth- had been so much shorter then, falling only to his shoulders rather than its current floor-length glory. …It was amusing to think that Amphitrite found it excessive back then, but utterly adored it in its current state.
Carefully, Amphitrite captured one of the cascading locks that fell across Poseidon’s face with one of her long, painted nails. …It really was beautiful worn this long, even compared to the admittedly flattering shorter styles he’d been forced to adopt during their youth. Tucking it behind his ear, Amphitrite expertly avoided allowing the strand of hair to be caught in any of the many silver earrings decorating it, left in their shared haste to fall into bed together. The goddess smiles to herself in the darkness, the face of her love finally unobstructed.
There he is.
…As vehemently as he liked to deny it, strands of Poseidon’s brows and beard were beginning to appear lighter now. Subtly enough that it could be denied, but still noticeable whenever he and Amphitrite were close like this. Amphitrite was all but certain that once it reached his hair, the seas would be in no way calm for some time. For now, though… it was something she could admire in their quiet moments, the subtle touches of silver– moonlight over a dark sea– only bringing further attention to his handsome features.
In the centuries passed since they’d first been introduced lifetimes ago, Amphitrite still found it difficult to say that those features had aged much at all. Poseidon had grown into them, certainly, but in so many ways he never ceased to resemble that young soldier.
Admittedly it was now, deep in the embrace of gentle sleep, that the resemblance was most uncanny.
Poseidon’s shapely jawline, prominent cheekbones, perfectly angled brows, dark lashes, and invitingly plump lips all remained just as they had been so long ago. Only slightly altered by the furrow of his brow that seemed to linger even in sleep. Perhaps a consequence of the stresses of ruling over such a tempermental domain for so long, perhaps only the result of his own wicked temper. …Not that Amphitrite could speak on such things.
Of course, there was one thing that would always remain, constant and comforting, no matter how many centuries had passed. The Goddess of the Seas smiles, a warmth stirring in her chest at the very thought of what’s to come— a rare indulgence, given the early hour she’s found herself unexpectedly awake for. Within herself, Amphitrite could sense the sea’s continued awakening, the moment at hand fast approaching.
It was time.
Reaching out, Amphitrite smoothed the furrowed brow of her husband with the pad of her thumb, catching and brushing away another lock of inky, dark hair with the same motion. The Lord of the seas stirred from his sleep at his wife’s gentle caress, pulled even further upwards from the depths by the brush of her lips against his own. Even captured by the spell of Hypnos, Poseidon chased Amphitrite’s addictive kiss, pulled as though by the tides. Subtle though it may be, Amphitrite is graced with a glimpse of a boyish, cocky grin that seemed much more suited to the face of that young soldier she met than the fully matured king whom she now shared a bed with. Mercifully, that smile remains as Poseidon’s dark lashes flutter open.
By the gods, just look at those eyes.
Even in the utter darkness of their bedchambers so early in the morning, Amphitrite found herself utterly captivated. As they fluttered open, Poseidon’s eyes were still tinted a deep muted shade of blue. Though not quite the endlessly dark, all-consuming black they had been as the pair drifted to sleep. The Lady of the seas grinned as she studied the eyes of her husband– she hadn’t missed it yet.
Poseidon groaned almost inaudibly as he stretched his well-used muscles– as effectively as he could without so much as bothering to lift his head from the pillow he’d claimed for the evening. Rather, he pressed his face further into it as he rolled his right shoulder, simultaneously wrapping his muscled arm firmly around his wife, pulling her close and soaking in the warmth of her body against his. Poseidon’s voice emerges from his throat as more of a groan as well, a deep baritone as his voice is dragged low in his chest from the weight of sleep.
“…It’s still dark out, jewel.~ We don’t need to be awake for hours.” Poseidon drawls, the smug grin on his lips still lingering as his warm hand pressed against the bare skin of his wife’s back. “…Unless you’ve something else on your mind, Amphi?”
“Later,” Amphitrite mutters the promise against her husband’s lips. She lingers, only breaking the steadily deepening kiss once she was good and ready. Amphitrite relishes the way Poseidon chased her lips a second time. “…I’d like to watch the sunrise this morning.” She whispers as though she’s making a confession, her hushed tone seemingly enforced by the veil of darkness surrounding them.
The momentarily hungry expression on the face of Amphitrite’s husband near instantly dissolved into something unspeakably tender– typically reserved exclusively for his doting wife and their precious children. “…It’s been some time, hasn’t it?” Poseidon questions softly, lowering his own voice to a whisper.
“…We’ve just been kept so busy lately.”
“I know.”
“…I’ve missed it.”
“I know.”
“So, may I?”
“Always.”
As Poseidon whispered this final affirmation, he gingerly took hold of his wife’s hand, guiding it to cradle one side of his face. “I’m yours to view, my jewel.” Amphitrite’s husband cooed softly, turning his head to press a tender, lingering kiss to his wife’s palm as he refused to break her gaze.
“However,” the Lord of the seas began again, taking on a playful tone. “If you can possibly find it in your merciful heart to forgive me for neglecting you in such a way, my love–” Poseidon reaches over, brushing one of Amphitrite’s thick curls behind her ear before motioning to their nightstand, where several candles lit the night before still rested. “…I’d appreciate the privilege of viewing you properly.~ …I presume you’d not prefer I be squinting to admire you through the darkness?”
Amphitrite snickered, fondly rolling her eyes both at her husband’s words and at Poseidon’s steadily widening grin– the one he always had when he was trying to make her laugh. Still, she obliged his request, momentarily leaving his embrace so she could sit up properly and relight the lavender scented candles on their bedside table.
“…It’s a privilege, is it?” The ocean queen questioned with a smirk, glancing down at her king lounging in their rumpled sheets– all pulled out of place from the previous night’s activities.
“Everything you give to me in our marriage bed is a privilege, my jewel.~”
“That it is.” Amphitrite hummed approvingly, lighting the last of the candles as the scent of lavender steadily creeped into the air once more. “Is that alright?” She questioned with a glance over her shoulder, finding Poseidon’s eyes lingering on her.
“Utter perfection.” Poseidon praised, not entirely remarking on the much more practical lighting their bedchambers were now cast in.
With no need for any further words, Poseidon simply opened his arms to invite his dearest Amphitrite to return to his embrace. She accepted his invitation eagerly, sinking back into the plush comfort of their marriage bed as her husband wrapped his strong arms and their soft sheets around her bare form. Yet Amphitrite pulled Poseidon closer still, wrapping her arms around his neck and toying with his hair, pressing their bodies together until she was practically nose to nose with her dear husband.
“..Has it begun yet?” Poseidon questioned after a minute or so, smiling fondly at the rapt attention Amphitrite was paying him. Her momentary silence provided him the answer he sought before her voice had the chance.
“Yes.”
Amphitrite paid no mind to how breathless and quiet her voice sounded as it spilled from her lips, nor to the way her husband softly chuckled at the obvious adoration laced within that single word. There was nothing that could steal her attention away from what was in front of her. The thing she adored most about her infinitely beloved husband.
Ever since she and Poseidon had begun their courtship, Amphitrite found herself openly laughing at those who dared to compare their lover’s eyes to the color of the sea. Whether they be god or mortal, the color dim or bright, gleaming blue or stormy grey– they were all wrong. Laughably wrong. In truth, there had only been one soul in all of the vastness of eternity who’d been given eyes that were truly the shade of the sea, as far as Amphitrite herself had ever seen or ever known.
Not a single one of those poets and pompous romantics had ever been blessed with this sight.
It still stole Amphitrite’s breath from her lips, no matter how many times her husband allowed her the joy of watching it each morning. …Watching as the impossibly dark shade of his eyes was steadily invaded by ripples of a deep red hue, slowly giving way to glimmers of vibrant orange, fading out into softer shades… then finally cut through with brilliant, gleaming, golden yellow. Those gentle ripples shone bright as the sun as Poseidon’s eyes reflected its light in the very same way his waters did in that precise moment.
On the first morning after they’d been married, Amphitrite had awoken Poseidon to walk along the beach with her as they watched the sun rise. Tired though he was, not to mention far more uncoordinated in the dark than Amphitrite, he had obliged without question. That had been the day she fully discovered this treasure of hers.
Each morning of their honeymoon after the first, and any morning since, neither Amphitrite nor Poseidon make any move to leave the comfort of their bed and rush to the coastline when she asks him to let her watch the sunrise.
As far as Amphitrite was concerned, that’s not where the sunrise is.
Do you have an ao3 where you post your stories or snippets? Would be a lot easier to bookmark because your greek mythology stories are awesome and i love reading them. Your latest one is so adorable <3<3
I do now!! 💖
I've totally been procrastinating on this, but since someone specifically requested it, here you go! All of my official works now have a home on ao3- I may find a place to post snippets written for asks and such later, but for now things are set up.
You can find my profile here!
And just for convenience, here's direct links to True Love & Other Lies We Enjoy Telling Ourselves as well as Restless, Rainy Nights! Hope this makes my work much more accessible 💖
Do you have an ao3 where you post your stories or snippets? Would be a lot easier to bookmark because your greek mythology stories are awesome and i love reading them. Your latest one is so adorable <3<3
I do now!! 💖
I've totally been procrastinating on this, but since someone specifically requested it, here you go! All of my official works now have a home on ao3- I may find a place to post snippets written for asks and such later, but for now things are set up.
You can find my profile here!
And just for convenience, here's direct links to True Love & Other Lies We Enjoy Telling Ourselves as well as Restless, Rainy Nights! Hope this makes my work much more accessible 💖
hi! just wanted to pop in and say that i adore love & other lies!
would love to hear more abt your other fics if u have them or alternatively if u have any zeus/hera fic recs! (Feel like they’re def very underrated 💔)
AAAA Thank you so much!! 💖
I’m so happy you’re enjoying Love & Other Lies! Hopefully chapter 4 will be coming down the pipeline soon, though I might end up putting out one more one shot before that, we’ll see! I had a lot of fun taking my time writing Restless, Rainy Nights. 😅
I actually have a lot of future fics planned at the moment— oneshots, multichaps, and little “collections” of one-off fics connected by themes or overarching stories included.
I’ve talked in depth about several future fics/WIPs here, if you’d like to hear about those!
The WIPs mentioned in that post are:
Empty Throne in an Empty Palace
Love & Other Lies Chapter 4
the one where Hera puts Ares to bed (now known as Restless, Rainy Nights)
(Won’t You) Stay For Dinner?
But… I suppose I can share a few new fics I’ve planned since then 🤭
“To Watch The Sun Rise” is a planned short and sweet little one shot about Poseidon and Amphitrite just being disgustingly in love and sharing a quiet moment together. It specifically calls back to a detail I mentioned about Poseidon’s eyes in chapter 3 of Love & Other Lies!
“(Re)Introductions” is one I don’t want to spoil too much of, since I’m not sure when it’s gonna come down the pipeline. …But for now I can share that it’s going to be a fic analyzing my take on the dynamic between Aphrodite and Hephaestus long after their separation, working towards being much more amicable with one another.
“Confessions” is the WIP title of an Ares centric fic I wanna work on someday! Specifically about a long heart to heart discussion he has with his uncle Hades during a very big turning point in his life. 👀
“On Separation and Shorelines” is the rough title of another Aphrodite and Hephaestus fic I’ve considered writing. Their dynamic is so incredibly complex and I have a lot of thoughts about it how it changes over time. I’ve surprised even myself with how I’ve come to view those two as characters— and I look forward to digging into their dynamic because I love them both individually and want to see them improve.
Summary: Late one night, centuries upon centuries ago, the Olympian royal palace fell silent with sleep. Two of it's residents remained wide awake, though. An infinitely patient queen, and her equally headstrong little prince.
Characters: Hera & Ares
AN: The WIP formerly known as “the one where Hera puts Ares to bed!” I wanted to write a fun little one shot as a break from Love & Other Lies, so here it is!! Big shoutout to @cerseimikaelson for being by my side as I worked on this!
Word Count: 2500+
Ares had long heard whispers from gods and servants alike that he had been born stubborn. At times, as he explored the grand halls of the Olympian palace, overhearing those words wounded him. Though, he found such wounds suddenly all too easy to forget whenever he found the strength to question his mother about the truth of the matter.
“No.” The Queen with her gentle smile would reassure softly each time, taking her son into her arms and placing him upon her lap. “You, my little lion…” Ares’ mother would coo as she cupped his small face in her hand, “you were born strong.”
…On evenings like this however, though it may be with only her deepest affections, Hera would hesitate far less to admit her son was indeed stubborn.
The King and Queen’s bedchambers practically glowed with warmth and comfort in the light of the roaring fireplace as it fought the late autumn chill that hung in the air. The heavy velvet drapes were pulled aside, leaving only sheer silk hung over the cool glass– allowing the icy moonlight to cast itself over what of the room the fire’s glow did not warm. Though the moon hung high in the heavens and the halls of the palace fell still and silent, the royal marriage bed laid untouched.
Instead Lady Hera rested on the loveseat she’d selected for her bedchambers centuries ago, wrapped in her blue velvet dressing gown, soaking in the warmth of the fire with a half finished tapestry draped over her lap… and a wide awake little prince sat at her feet.
Sparing a glance down at Ares, Hera could see the temptation of sleep weighing on her young son. Every so often, as he stared into the crackling fire, Ares’ head would drift to rest on his mother’s leg for a short while before he forced himself to sit back up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his small hands. It was nearly impossible for Hera to believe just how big he was getting now– that she couldn’t cradle him in her arms as she did during his infancy.
…Perhaps that’s why she found herself capable only of finding joy in this quiet night with her youngest son by her side.
“Ares?” His mother lilted, reaching down to run her fingers through his head of thick, dark curls. The little prince made a soft noise, not even having noticed his mother had paused work on her tapestry, and Hera found wide burgundy eyes blinking up at her. “Wouldn't you much prefer to wait in your room, dear?”
At first Ares only let out a barely audible hum, shaking his head as he forced himself to sit up straight, folding his hands in his lap as he’d seen his mother do. Hera clicked her tongue disapprovingly. Use your words. “..No, mama,” came a hushed, determined voice rather obviously clouded by sleep. “I’m not going to bed.”
“I didn’t say you had to,” that same gentle voice reminded him. “I only asked if you would prefer to wait for your father in your room instead. I’m sure you would be more comfortable.” Hera’s voice was even and calm, as though she were reading to him by his bedside the way she usually did. Ares fought to keep his eyes open as his mother spoke, fingers carding through his hair and pushing his curls out of his eyes.
“I’m not tired.” A yawn forced itself past the boy’s lips as he reached up to cover his mouth with his hand like he’d been told to. Hera chuckled, merely raising an eyebrow at her son. “…I wanna wait with you, mama,” he corrected himself.
“…And so you will,” Ares’ mother relented, fondly sighing out her son’s name as she reached down and scooped the small boy into her arms. Hera held Ares close as she placed him just next to her to rest, wrapping what she had finished of her tapestry around his body as she would with a blanket. Though it draped only over Hera’s lap and stomach, with Ares’ legs tucked next to him on the loveseat it hid nearly all of his body. “…He may not be home until first light, baby.” The goddess cooed, pulling Ares close to her with one arm before returning to her tapestry.
The young god frowned, trying once again to rub the sleep from his eyes with a tiny balled up fist as he stared over at his mother, not speaking. Ares could wait. Surely the night was almost over by now, he’d been up so long– Helios would begin his journey any moment, and then Ares’ father would arrive to put him to bed.
Blinking his eyes to fight the gentle temptation of Hypnos, Ares instead fixed his gaze upon his mother’s hands as she worked. Hera’s slim, elegant fingers moved with practiced ease as she selected a new color of thread for her needle, a vibrant shade of green, and threaded it before beginning a new group of stitches. She worked efficiently and easily, never slipping or needing to redo even a single stitch as her hands moved in that familiar, practiced rhythm.
Glancing over what of her work his mother had finished, as well as what she had sketched on the bare canvas, Ares began to recognize this particular tapestry.
He had been there the day his mother planned it.
It was just at the end of summer, when the afternoons were still hot and yet the night grew cool– only a few days before his mother had brought him with his siblings to say goodbye to aunt Persephone and present some gifts to aunt Demeter.
…Ares had thought that’s where his mother was taking them, but instead they all traveled for quite a long while, not like they did when going to visit each summer. Enyo had complained, but… Ares really didn’t mind. Once they arrived on the mountain, and their mother told them they were allowed to play however they pleased so long as they remained in her sight, neither did his sister.
That was another day their father had been busy. And rather than sit in the palace entertaining the young twins as the older children attended to their lessons, Hera had brought them all out for the afternoon. Out to that mountain, blanketed in lush clover and wildflowers Ares and his twin sister had trampled in their excitement, rolling around as the dew cooled their sun-heated skin.
Ares remembered how Hera called them over, insisting they rest in the shady recess she had led them all to with such confidence– as though she’d been there before.
Ares and Enyo could roughhouse just as well in the shade as in the sun, so neither had paid any mind to their mother’s request or to her work as they rushed to be closer to her. Ares recalled overhearing Hephaestus still reciting and practicing the poetry their mother had given him that week, dutifully attending to his studies even as he was meant to rest. …It had caught Ares’ attention that his elder sister wasn’t doing the same, though— Eileithyia was just as devoted to her studies and daily lessons as Hephaestus, if not more.
That's why he had wandered over, curiously peeking over his elder sister’s shoulder with a furrowed brow and a small pout— wondering what she was assisting their mother with that Ares had not been invited to.
On the left side of the fabric stretched out before them Eileithyia drew simple, hesitant shapes— blocking out rough silhouettes and occasionally referencing her mother’s work or looking to her for approval. She found it each time as Hera praised her work, stroking her hair and giving her an affirming nod before returning to the right side of the canvas. There, Ares’ mother drew stark clean lines, effortlessly outlining the shapes of trees and flowers with as few strokes as possible, hands moving with the confidence of one who had done this countless times before.
“What’re you drawing, mama?”
“Look up, baby.” She had instructed Ares softly, motioning with her eyes for him to gaze out into the valley where he and Enyo had been playing, out at the view from where they sat. Even from what little Hera had sketched with Eileithyia’s eager assistance, the lines on the canvas were slowly beginning to form the very same view.
The next time Ares blinked open his eyes after recalling the fuzzy memory, he was puzzled to find that Hera had already finished the section of green stitching she had only just begun after he sat by her side. …She had finished several sections of the same color, in fact. In the short time Ares had closed his eyes– not sleeping, he was not falling asleep– the outline of one of the larger trees had slowly taken shape.
Ares didn’t move at first.
It was comfortable here, his head resting on his mother’s shoulder as the fire warmed their bodies… faintly, he could even hear the noise of a cool autumn rain beginning to drum on the glass windows. …Ares’ mother liked the rain— the sound of it sometimes had her joining Ares and his sister during their afternoon naps.
The young prince didn’t close his eyes, even with the sound of the rain drawing him in. He just… kept staring at his mother’s hands, how quickly she worked as she flipped part of the tapestry over to secure the end of one of her threads. She’d finished another section. Another group of leaves in the olive tree.
“Mama?”
Hera smiled at the sound of her son’s small voice, soft and sweet from his sleep, as she carefully secured the last of the green thread she’d been working with for well over two hours by now as her son rested beside her. “Yes, my dear?” She questioned in a lilting tone, “…Have you waited long enough? Is it time to rest yet?”
“…No.” came a small protest as Hera tucked her needle into the bare canvas, setting it aside. Ares’ mother knew she wouldn’t be needing it again– not tonight.
“Really, now?” Hera wondered aloud as she tenderly wrapped her arms around her son, pulling the small child into her lap. “May I ask why not? ...I know I’m already feeling dreadfully tired myself,” Hera whispered, feigning a small yawn.
Ares made a small noise at that– a tiny, curious sound. “Really?”
“Oh, yes. Mama’s very tired, dear. …Perhaps we could wait for your papa in bed, just so mama can rest?” Hera’s fingers ran through Ares’ curls once more, seemingly guiding his sleepy eyes up to view her face rather than study her hands.
His mother’s brilliant blue eyes looked upon Ares with nothing less than infinite patience and adoration, her subtle smile gleaming with a warmth even greater than the fire roaring beside them. Unable to summon any words, the small prince simply nodded and rested his head against his mother’s chest as she took him into her arms and stood from the loveseat.
Ares clung tightly to his mother, one tiny hand fisted in the soft fabric of her blue dressing gown, the other lightly grasping at one of the curls that fell over her shoulder and down the length of her body. …His mother usually wore her hair up for bed. But not tonight. Idly, Ares ran his small fingers through it just as he often saw his father do. Hera’s flowing curls gleamed like silk in the increasingly distant firelight as she carried Ares across the room– his hair wasn’t quite as shiny and soft as his mother’s, the thick curls favoring his father’s side instead.
The sharper, far less natural gleam of the golden pendant that hung from his mother’s neck drew him in within an instant.
The pendant swayed gently from side to side under its own slight weight, the seamless golden chain slipping free from where it had been pinned snugly beneath Hera’s dressing gown, always worn directly against her skin. Of course, Ares recognized his father’s own seal– as well as the pendant his mother wore almost each and every day– but… she usually removed it once it was time for bed. …Ares thought that was just fine, though. He hadn’t taken off the scarf his father put on him that morning until after dinner time, even once he’d come back inside from playing. Reaching up with his left hand, the young god hummed softly as he traced his fingertips over the familiar pattern– a single thunderbolt emerging from clouds.
“…He’ll be here when you wake in the morning, little lion.” Hera kissed her son’s forehead, whispering her words into his hair as though she were sharing a secret.
Shifting Ares into one arm, Hera pulled back the luxurious blue bedding that draped over the sturdy, intricately carved marble frame of her marriage bed. Carved into the floor of her palace. Into Olympus itself. Immovable and eternal, unless you were willing to split the mountain in two. Leaving her husband’s side of the bed untouched, Hera laid her son in the center of the soft sheets before joining him herself– keeping her dressing gown on to warm her from the cool autumn night, even as she pulled the heavy blankets over the both of them.
When Hera opened her arms to her young son, an unspoken invitation, he took it in less than a moment. Curled in his mother’s embrace, Ares let out a quiet breath as he finally allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Away from the woody scent of the fire, the familiar comfort of fresh linen and the faint remnants of his mother’s evening tea flooded Ares’ senses, only adding to the warmth blooming in his chest.
…Yes, he could wait for his father here. He could wait here as long as he needed.
His mother said nothing as Ares’ tiny hand gently closed around her pendant once again, gingerly holding it in his grasp as the young prince rested his head.
Tracing his thumb along the smooth metal, Ares soaked in the silence, broken only by the now distant crackling of the fire and the gentle drum of rain. The warmth of his parents’ bed. …The weight of his mother’s arms wrapped around him, there to comfort him through the night even though Ares had heard the messenger that had arrived earlier in the day request both his mother and father’s presence. Heard his mother’s disappointed sigh. His father’s firm refusal. Then their hushed goodbyes as he insisted on leaving alone so Hera could stay.
That was hours ago, but now, only the sound of a gentle roll of thunder drifted through the air as Ares himself drifted below the spell of Hypnos. Even as he relaxed, his hand remained tight around the pendant clutched between his fingers.
Yes, he supposes his father was there to lull him to sleep after all.
Summary: Late one night, centuries upon centuries ago, the Olympian royal palace fell silent with sleep. Two of it's residents remained wide awake, though. An infinitely patient queen, and her equally headstrong little prince.
Characters: Hera & Ares
AN: The WIP formerly known as “the one where Hera puts Ares to bed!” I wanted to write a fun little one shot as a break from Love & Other Lies, so here it is!! Big shoutout to @cerseimikaelson for being by my side as I worked on this!
Word Count: 2500+
Read it on Ao3!
Ares had long heard whispers from gods and servants alike that he had been born stubborn. At times, as he explored the grand halls of the Olympian palace, overhearing those words wounded him. Though, he found such wounds suddenly all too easy to forget whenever he found the strength to question his mother about the truth of the matter.
“No.” The Queen with her gentle smile would reassure softly each time, taking her son into her arms and placing him upon her lap. “You, my little lion…” Ares’ mother would coo as she cupped his small face in her hand, “you were born strong.”
…On evenings like this however, though it may be with only her deepest affections, Hera would hesitate far less to admit her son was indeed stubborn.
The King and Queen’s bedchambers practically glowed with warmth and comfort in the light of the roaring fireplace as it fought the late autumn chill that hung in the air. The heavy velvet drapes were pulled aside, leaving only sheer silk hung over the cool glass– allowing the icy moonlight to cast itself over what of the room the fire’s glow did not warm. Though the moon hung high in the heavens and the halls of the palace fell still and silent, the royal marriage bed laid untouched.
Instead Lady Hera rested on the loveseat she’d selected for her bedchambers centuries ago, wrapped in her blue velvet dressing gown, soaking in the warmth of the fire with a half finished tapestry draped over her lap… and a wide awake little prince sat at her feet.
Sparing a glance down at Ares, Hera could see the temptation of sleep weighing on her young son. Every so often, as he stared into the crackling fire, Ares’ head would drift to rest on his mother’s leg for a short while before he forced himself to sit back up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his small hands. It was nearly impossible for Hera to believe just how big he was getting now– that she couldn’t cradle him in her arms as she did during his infancy.
…Perhaps that’s why she found herself capable only of finding joy in this quiet night with her youngest son by her side.
“Ares?” His mother lilted, reaching down to run her fingers through his head of thick, dark curls. The little prince made a soft noise, not even having noticed his mother had paused work on her tapestry, and Hera found wide burgundy eyes blinking up at her. “Wouldn't you much prefer to wait in your room, dear?”
At first Ares only let out a barely audible hum, shaking his head as he forced himself to sit up straight, folding his hands in his lap as he’d seen his mother do. Hera clicked her tongue disapprovingly. Use your words. “..No, mama,” came a hushed, determined voice rather obviously clouded by sleep. “I’m not going to bed.”
“I didn’t say you had to,” that same gentle voice reminded him. “I only asked if you would prefer to wait for your father in your room instead. I’m sure you would be more comfortable.” Hera’s voice was even and calm, as though she were reading to him by his bedside the way she usually did. Ares fought to keep his eyes open as his mother spoke, fingers carding through his hair and pushing his curls out of his eyes.
“I’m not tired.” A yawn forced itself past the boy’s lips as he reached up to cover his mouth with his hand like he’d been told to. Hera chuckled, merely raising an eyebrow at her son. “…I wanna wait with you, mama,” he corrected himself.
“…And so you will,” Ares’ mother relented, fondly sighing out her son’s name as she reached down and scooped the small boy into her arms. Hera held Ares close as she placed him just next to her to rest, wrapping what she had finished of her tapestry around his body as she would with a blanket. Though it draped only over Hera’s lap and stomach, with Ares’ legs tucked next to him on the loveseat it hid nearly all of his body. “…He may not be home until first light, baby.” The goddess cooed, pulling Ares close to her with one arm before returning to her tapestry.
The young god frowned, trying once again to rub the sleep from his eyes with a tiny balled up fist as he stared over at his mother, not speaking. Ares could wait. Surely the night was almost over by now, he’d been up so long– Helios would begin his journey any moment, and then Ares’ father would arrive to put him to bed.
Blinking his eyes to fight the gentle temptation of Hypnos, Ares instead fixed his gaze upon his mother’s hands as she worked. Hera’s slim, elegant fingers moved with practiced ease as she selected a new color of thread for her needle, a vibrant shade of green, and threaded it before beginning a new group of stitches. She worked efficiently and easily, never slipping or needing to redo even a single stitch as her hands moved in that familiar, practiced rhythm.
Glancing over what of her work his mother had finished, as well as what she had sketched on the bare canvas, Ares began to recognize this particular tapestry.
He had been there the day his mother planned it.
It was just at the end of summer, when the afternoons were still hot and yet the night grew cool– only a few days before his mother had brought him with his siblings to say goodbye to aunt Persephone and present some gifts to aunt Demeter.
…Ares had thought that’s where his mother was taking them, but instead they all traveled for quite a long while, not like they did when going to visit each summer. Enyo had complained, but… Ares really didn’t mind. Once they arrived on the mountain, and their mother told them they were allowed to play however they pleased so long as they remained in her sight, neither did his sister.
That was another day their father had been busy. And rather than sit in the palace entertaining the young twins as the older children attended to their lessons, Hera had brought them all out for the afternoon. Out to that mountain, blanketed in lush clover and wildflowers Ares and his twin sister had trampled in their excitement, rolling around as the dew cooled their sun-heated skin.
Ares remembered how Hera called them over, insisting they rest in the shady recess she had led them all to with such confidence– as though she’d been there before.
Ares and Enyo could roughhouse just as well in the shade as in the sun, so neither had paid any mind to their mother’s request or to her work as they rushed to be closer to her. Ares recalled overhearing Hephaestus still reciting and practicing the poetry their mother had given him that week, dutifully attending to his studies even as he was meant to rest. …It had caught Ares’ attention that his elder sister wasn’t doing the same, though— Eileithyia was just as devoted to her studies and daily lessons as Hephaestus, if not more.
That's why he had wandered over, curiously peeking over his elder sister’s shoulder with a furrowed brow and a small pout— wondering what she was assisting their mother with that Ares had not been invited to.
On the left side of the fabric stretched out before them Eileithyia drew simple, hesitant shapes— blocking out rough silhouettes and occasionally referencing her mother’s work or looking to her for approval. She found it each time as Hera praised her work, stroking her hair and giving her an affirming nod before returning to the right side of the canvas. There, Ares’ mother drew stark clean lines, effortlessly outlining the shapes of trees and flowers with as few strokes as possible, hands moving with the confidence of one who had done this countless times before.
“What’re you drawing, mama?”
“Look up, baby.” She had instructed Ares softly, motioning with her eyes for him to gaze out into the valley where he and Enyo had been playing, out at the view from where they sat. Even from what little Hera had sketched with Eileithyia’s eager assistance, the lines on the canvas were slowly beginning to form the very same view.
The next time Ares blinked open his eyes after recalling the fuzzy memory, he was puzzled to find that Hera had already finished the section of green stitching she had only just begun after he sat by her side. …She had finished several sections of the same color, in fact. In the short time Ares had closed his eyes– not sleeping, he was not falling asleep– the outline of one of the larger trees had slowly taken shape.
Ares didn’t move at first.
It was comfortable here, his head resting on his mother’s shoulder as the fire warmed their bodies… faintly, he could even hear the noise of a cool autumn rain beginning to drum on the glass windows. …Ares’ mother liked the rain— the sound of it sometimes had her joining Ares and his sister during their afternoon naps.
The young prince didn’t close his eyes, even with the sound of the rain drawing him in. He just… kept staring at his mother’s hands, how quickly she worked as she flipped part of the tapestry over to secure the end of one of her threads. She’d finished another section. Another group of leaves in the olive tree.
“Mama?”
Hera smiled at the sound of her son’s small voice, soft and sweet from his sleep, as she carefully secured the last of the green thread she’d been working with for well over two hours by now as her son rested beside her. “Yes, my dear?” She questioned in a lilting tone, “…Have you waited long enough? Is it time to rest yet?”
“…No.” came a small protest as Hera tucked her needle into the bare canvas, setting it aside. Ares’ mother knew she wouldn’t be needing it again– not tonight.
“Really, now?” Hera wondered aloud as she tenderly wrapped her arms around her son, pulling the small child into her lap. “May I ask why not? ...I know I’m already feeling dreadfully tired myself,” Hera whispered, feigning a small yawn.
Ares made a small noise at that– a tiny, curious sound. “Really?”
“Oh, yes. Mama’s very tired, dear. …Perhaps we could wait for your papa in bed, just so mama can rest?” Hera’s fingers ran through Ares’ curls once more, seemingly guiding his sleepy eyes up to view her face rather than study her hands.
His mother’s brilliant blue eyes looked upon Ares with nothing less than infinite patience and adoration, her subtle smile gleaming with a warmth even greater than the fire roaring beside them. Unable to summon any words, the small prince simply nodded and rested his head against his mother’s chest as she took him into her arms and stood from the loveseat.
Ares clung tightly to his mother, one tiny hand fisted in the soft fabric of her blue dressing gown, the other lightly grasping at one of the curls that fell over her shoulder and down the length of her body. …His mother usually wore her hair up for bed. But not tonight. Idly, Ares ran his small fingers through it just as he often saw his father do. Hera’s flowing curls gleamed like silk in the increasingly distant firelight as she carried Ares across the room– his hair wasn’t quite as shiny and soft as his mother’s, the thick curls favoring his father’s side instead.
The sharper, far less natural gleam of the golden pendant that hung from his mother’s neck drew him in within an instant.
The pendant swayed gently from side to side under its own slight weight, the seamless golden chain slipping free from where it had been pinned snugly beneath Hera’s dressing gown, always worn directly against her skin. Of course, Ares recognized his father’s own seal– as well as the pendant his mother wore almost each and every day– but… she usually removed it once it was time for bed. …Ares thought that was just fine, though. He hadn’t taken off the scarf his father put on him that morning until after dinner time, even once he’d come back inside from playing. Reaching up with his left hand, the young god hummed softly as he traced his fingertips over the familiar pattern– a single thunderbolt emerging from clouds.
“…He’ll be here when you wake in the morning, little lion.” Hera kissed her son’s forehead, whispering her words into his hair as though she were sharing a secret.
Shifting Ares into one arm, Hera pulled back the luxurious blue bedding that draped over the sturdy, intricately carved marble frame of her marriage bed. Carved into the floor of her palace. Into Olympus itself. Immovable and eternal, unless you were willing to split the mountain in two. Leaving her husband’s side of the bed untouched, Hera laid her son in the center of the soft sheets before joining him herself– keeping her dressing gown on to warm her from the cool autumn night, even as she pulled the heavy blankets over the both of them.
When Hera opened her arms to her young son, an unspoken invitation, he took it in less than a moment. Curled in his mother’s embrace, Ares let out a quiet breath as he finally allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Away from the woody scent of the fire, the familiar comfort of fresh linen and the faint remnants of his mother’s evening tea flooded Ares’ senses, only adding to the warmth blooming in his chest.
…Yes, he could wait for his father here. He could wait here as long as he needed.
His mother said nothing as Ares’ tiny hand gently closed around her pendant once again, gingerly holding it in his grasp as the young prince rested his head.
Tracing his thumb along the smooth metal, Ares soaked in the silence, broken only by the now distant crackling of the fire and the gentle drum of rain. The warmth of his parents’ bed. …The weight of his mother’s arms wrapped around him, there to comfort him through the night even though Ares had heard the messenger that had arrived earlier in the day request both his mother and father’s presence. Heard his mother’s disappointed sigh. His father’s firm refusal. Then their hushed goodbyes as he insisted on leaving alone so Hera could stay.
That was hours ago, but now, only the sound of a gentle roll of thunder drifted through the air as Ares himself drifted below the spell of Hypnos. Even as he relaxed, his hand remained tight around the pendant clutched between his fingers.
Yes, he supposes his father was there to lull him to sleep after all.
everyone in the notes we are all holding hands. everyone who hasnt worked on a wip in weeks or months or years, its okay. we are going slow but we are going
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