Category: Greek Mythology
Rating: T
Couples: Depend on Myth
Warnings: Depend on Myth
Myth: Lycaon
Copyright: Greek Gods © By Whomever they belong, Plot & OC´s © by me
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She was not entirely sure what was going through her husband's head. She most assuredly was not.
He had come to the rooms she had in his palace and demanded her child, her little Nyctimus. How was she supposed to deny him? He had given her everything: riches, power and most importantly a child she could love…
It wasn't like he loved her. Well, he loved her looks, that much was sure… He kept calling her Elaphina – doe – because of her big brown eyes. Did he even know her real name? Probably not.
Many sons. He had so many sons with several wives and she couldn't help but wonder of how many he knew the name. Most likely of only one or two, if any. Sons, sons… That was all he cared about.
And now he had taken hers. Why did it have to be hers? She didn't know why, but she felt like she should have stopped him somehow.
There were rumors of Zeus visiting the Arcadian King at times. Was he intending to introduce Nyctimus to the god? Oh, Great gods above, what was going to happen to her only child?
Soon she could not take it anymore and left her rooms. She swiftly walked through the halls of her husband, weaving around the corners to the main sanctuary: a massive altar for Zeus.
She fell on her knees.
"Zeus, I beg of you, no matter what happens, spare my child." She prayed. "I fear for him."
She kept up the chant, kneeling on the unforgiving marble. Above her birds circled in the air. She looked up when another appeared and gasped. An eagle!
Was it a sign from Zeus? She hoped so and all but clung to the altar as she continued her prayer. "Spare my child, Great Zeus, spare my Nyctimus. I beg you…"
She screamed in surprise when great clamor rose from deeper in the palace. No…
A mother who wishes to protect her child shall be among the fastest of her kind. In such ways, Elaphina all but flew through the palace-corridors, her long and elaborate dress flying after her like wings.
As she crossed the gardens to the dining-hall the sky darkened, turning near-black. Oh Lynaos, what have you done? Have you truly challenged the King of the gods?
She came to a skidding stop at the entrance, looking at the massive marble table in horror. It was overturned and the many rich foods on its' surface where scattered around the room. A pot of stew had ended up just in front of the door and she had to step back lest she stepped into it.
Lycaon was cowering just a short distance away, as were all of his sons. Except for one.
Her heart stopped for a moment when she realized that her treasure, her precious Nyctimus was nowhere to be seen.
"So this is your conduct?" The voice was deep, like the rumbling of thunder and for a moment she forgot her horror as she looked at the man standing at the other side of the room. He must have been seated in the seat of honor, but now he merely stood, the heavy chair as upturned as the table that separated them. "You would feed me – ME, ZEUS, KING OF THE GODS –your own child?" He pointed at the stew covering a great deal of the floor.
Only harpies could generate such sounds, the guards would later say, Zeus summoned harpies to punish our king and his sons. That was what they said, but it was a simple doe that generated the sound. She collapsed on the spot, her dress drinking the fluids of the stew as a desert the rain as she howled her horror and grief into the room.
Was it her voice, or was it the power of the god before her that shattered the roof? It turned to dust, raining down on the occupants of the room, covering them in flawless white.
Far above them the storm raged and lightning flashed. For a moment her howling was drowned out by the sound of thunder right beside her, and a bright flash blinded her even through her clenched eye-lids.
The room was suddenly so much emptier: only three remained. Lycaon's sons, his pride and joy, had been obliterated by Zeus' fury.
The god pointed at the stew and the flesh melted together again to form her precious boy.
But that was not the end of it all, because before he disappeared he took up a spoon that had fallen at his feet and threw it at Lycaon. It hit him square between the eyes, nearly catapulting him backwards.
Her husband was writhing in pain, something she took ever so slightly pleasure in. But she did not spare him a second glance as she helped her son out of the room. Let the wrath of the gods destroy Lycaon for all she cared.
She never saw the Peahen in the trees she passed underneath. The brown bird looked after her and then over to the dining-hall.
In honoring the one, you dishonor the other. Hera did not like the abandonment of the husband by the wife and she was swift to judge.
Zeus had turned Lycaon into a wolf, menacing to look at, his fur a perfect black and eyes as red as the blood of his son he had spilled.
Hera now commanded him to take as first prey the doe that lived in his palace.
After all, do wolves not hunt deer? Why then should the human-turned-wolf be any different?
Much was lost that day, most of all the innocence of a young boy, who suddenly found himself all alone in the world.
