The Lord of Oceans sat, reaching his awareness out to the depths of his realms. Within himself, he felt its churning seas and crashing waves while his brothers bickered before him.
"The time has come for you to take your bride."
"I've no interest in an ignorant child."
"She is not a child, Aidon."
"I've no interest in an ignorant woman."
"How do you know she is ignorant?"
"Our sister raised her. I know."
"Of course. You know so much, Aidon, slinking about in that dark realm of yours, visiting only when summoned here. You've never even met the girl, and yet you simply know that she is an ignorant child. Your omniscience amazes me, truly. Would that I could have drawn the short straw myself and gained your land of shades instead of this one. My knowledge would be far better for it, it seems."
"...Tread lightly, little brother."
On and on the argument went, ebbing and flowing like the tides the Ocean Lord ruled over, until finally Aidon acquiesced to the wishes of their king. Soon Aidon strode by, his heavy footsteps ringing in the Ocean Lord's ears.
"Brother," is all Aidon said by way of goodbye, and the Ocean Lord caught only a short glimpse of his sibling's face through the openings in his helm. He could not remember the last time he had seen his brother's face clearly—or if, indeed, he had ever seen his brother's face clearly. A tired sigh made the Ocean Lord return his focus back to his king.
"What am I going to do with him?"
"Leave him be?"
"A lord must have an heir."
"A human lord, maybe."
"All lords must have an heir."
The Ocean Lord shrugged, put a date between his teeth, and bit down. The fruit's soft flesh burst against his tongue and brought him an immense pleasure. The food on the mountain was always better than in the banquets of the sea.
"Marry that poor girl off to another family," the Ocean Lord said, grabbing another date, "create an alliance. Those northerners could use another flower goddess."
"I will not ignore the demands of prophecy, Poseidon."
"Then you have your answer."
"So it seems. When did you become so even-tempered and wise?"
Poseidon only smiled in answer.
Kora tugged on the end of her dress, despairing at the texture of the rough, homespun fabric between her fingers. Aphrodite stood before her, beauty among beauties, dressed in soft silk that served only to accentuate the curves of her body. She was the epitome of femininity, and Kora felt like a bag of dirty wheat in comparison.
She did not belong at court among illustrious lords and ladies, clearly. After all, it had only been a day since she learned her father was not simply a lord, but indeed the king of their worldly sphere. Suddenly she'd been whisked away to court by her newly-discovered father, seeing men and women she had only previously heard about in stories. But they weren't just stories anymore; they were flesh and blood people, as real as the humans she interacted with every day. She saw Ares boasting with his great axe and mane of fire; she saw Athena, feathered and fierce, regaling her students with tales of hard-won battles, and many other immortals besides. The chamber was alight with raucous laughter and conversation. She felt incredibly out of place.
Rather abruptly, the chatter lowered to a low rumble and then stopped entirely. Kora traced Aphrodite's eyeline, saw the man who had caused everyone to cease their conversations and stare. And he stopped what he had been doing too, it seemed; stopped walking mid-stride, even. He appeared to be looking at her, just as she was looking at him. Caught.
Stars above, he is tall, thought Kora. It was true. Even for an immortal, he was tall, and his helm served to make him look even taller. Almost immediately he appeared in front of her, his great size threatening to swallow her up. Looming; he was looming over her. For the first time that evening, Kora felt irritated instead of embarrassed. How dare he? She gathered her courage, prepared to spit out the most acerbic insult she could think of.
She looked up at him and her words turned to ash on her tongue. Through the visor of his helm she saw a single, sharp blue eye; an eye so brightly blue she thought it almost glowed—though it had no twin that she could see.
"You are Demeter's daughter," he said. His voice was deep and somewhat muffled through the helm. His words surprised her; her father hadn't officially announced who she was at court. For all anyone knew, she was yet another forest nymph the king had taken a special liking to. She could easily pass for one, with her unkempt hair and sack of a dress; and the queen had treated her as such too, illegitimate child of the king though she actually was. Everyone seemed keen on ignoring her, glancing only occasionally in her direction with vague disgust, and generally treating her like one might treat a rather large but benign insect.
Yet this stranger knew she was Demeter's daughter.
And she felt stupid, because she did not immediately recognize who he was; humans rarely spoke of him, and when they did, it was always in harsh whispers and curses. Even still, he was looking at her, assessing her, it seemed.
"Y-yes, my lord—"
His harsh gaze pierced through her eyes and into her skull, making her feel exposed and, worst of all, seen. Truly, deeply seen. She could almost feel him inside her mind, rooting around for weakness; and within herself, she saw him, unarmored and as vulnerable as she. He grunted, a quick, short sound of unexpected pain and annoyance, and she shuddered in response. It was in that moment that she realized the man who stood before her was the Lord of the Dead, and she stumbled back, alarmed, only to be caught and steadied by his gloved hand on her arm.
"Well met. Excuse me."
There he left her, in the hall of immortals, without another word, and the lords and ladies that had ignored her for a better part of the evening now swarmed around her like wasps. Where she had once been a wilting flower in their presence, they now saw a fertile blossom, ripe with nectar—and naivety to exploit. All around her, Kora saw predators; Ares's newly piqued interest particularly frightened her. Of all the immortals, she knew him to be one of the most taciturn and quick to anger.
"Why would our dear uncle bother to speak a word to you?" Ares asked, stepping closer. His mane of fire grew brighter, illuminating his ash-gray skin. The veins of his thick neck bulged out. He did not look human, or even close to it.
"Idiot. She's yet another sibling, can't you see?" Athena remarked. This close, Kora could see flecks of gold in the black feathers that stemmed from her arms. "At least this one isn't some horrible half-breed."
"I...I don't—" It was too much; the immortals were crowding around her, each more incredible-looking than the last. They were all so close. Panic started to rise in her. She couldn't breathe.
"Stars above, why don't you all leave the young lady alone?" The voice was a woman's, soft but commanding. Kora immediately knew that it was Aphrodite, and gave praise to the stars silently for her good fortune. "'Tis bad enough that she had to deal with that boor of a man already. Give the girl some space."
The immortals listened, though Ares winked defiantly at his ex-lover. His wolfish grin made Kora slightly nauseous, and soon she found herself mercifully being sat down on a bench in the outer garden, with Aphrodite rubbing her back soothingly, almost absent-mindedly.
"They're all children, the lot of them. And they wonder why the mortals make fewer sacrifices every year? Please. Absolute children," she said. She took Kora's hands in hers. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"Thank you, Lady Aphrodite."
"Please, just call me Dite. Honorifics have never suited me."
Kora looked down at the hands holding hers and saw that they were perfect. Her skin was a honey brown that shown almost like gold, smooth to the touch and clean. In comparison, Kora's hands were rough and mannish; calloused from her time spent tending gardens and helping her mother in the fields. She immediately removed her hands from Aphrodite's kind hold. She did not want to soil the Lady of Love and Beauty.
Aphrodite smiled sadly at her, but did not protest.
From her bench, Kora looked out to the garden, viewed the immaculate statues of the immortals. Kora searched and searched and searched, but—
"You'll not find his likeness here," Aphrodite commented, her voice light. "He does not consider himself to be of the mountain."
"The mortals are right to fear him," Kora said. She crossed her arms. "He is...so cold and...large."
Aphrodite laughed, and the sound was wonderful but confusing. Kora's ears burned.
"Why do you laugh, Lady Aphro—I mean, Dite?"
"Because, darling, young Kora, you have so much to learn." Kora felt Aphrodite's perfect hand cup her cheek. She had to concentrate to keep her mouth from hanging open.
"The mortals have many reasons to fear many of the lords and ladies in that room," she continued. "They are capricious and petulant, and very often too powerful for their own good. Ares revels in war and destruction and treats the mortals as mere toys for his games but so, too, do the others. Poseidon is as gracious as he is hateful, and you can never be sure what he will be most like on a given day. The Master of Death, brutish as he is at times, is none of those things."
Kora wanted to believe her. Intimidating as she was, Kora felt that she could trust the Lady, certainly more so than the other immortals. But when she thought of Death's Master, all she felt was a frigid dread. His glowing eye burned within her mind, cold as ice and yet as blue and bright as a searing flame.
Kora held herself tighter. She was glad he kept no statue on the mountain.
She hoped to never see him again.
