—dancing in white lies
They are both prisoners. She is the heart of the hearth. He, the mighty kind of darkness – condemned.
However, her jail is chosen and by result an option; his is mere coincidence. He is bitter and she is, too, though her tears are silent and dried by his hands.
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His cold breath chills her cheek, her breathing is ragged. "Hestia," he murmurs softly, "why do you deny me so?"
She is a maiden and he has a wife, yet they are together.
Because they are one in the same.
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The next council meeting, on the solstice, Hestia is invited – but only out of courtesy; always because of pity.
Zeus walks in – making an entrance, as always. "Have you been enjoying your life, sister?"
"Enough," she manages.
Zeus gives a curt nod, satisfied that all is well and nothing is disrupted – besides his brother's unwelcome presence here. "Very well. You do understand, sister, that this shall be the last meeting of the Council that you may attend with your Olympian status still intact? Giving up your seat for my son ensures you without power. You are aware of this?"
She sighs and gives a half nod.
He had warned her about this.
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"Hello, sweet." The voice causes her to jump. He must have been lonely today; his wife must have denied him.
"You have not visited for a while." Her tone is bitter and she wonders why, briefly, she is leading him on. She does not love him. How can she give away her heart to a man who takes pleasure in mortal suffering? No, she does not love him.
He hums. "Did you miss me, sweet?"
He kisses her and she chokes out, "No," but he's still kissing, kissing . . .
And darkness overtakes her, claiming his prize.
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Hestia of the hearth is a liar.
The forbidden romance that she is star in is her greatest passion. It stalks her thoughts and has plagued her mind. She says that she does not love him.
But she is the craftiest of liars.
Do not let her façade of innocence deceive you.