In Between Our Lies

21. Desire

"We always long for the forbidden things,

And desire what is denied us."

- Francois Rabelaus

For her, this was partially true. Screw it, this was all true. She wanted to be powerful – graceful and kind in all aspects – yet live peacefully. But this was not so. At least, not when he came. Not when he danced into her carefully strung fate, reckless and flawless.

At first, she was intrigued – that was all – no questions asked. Then, as she started to grow close to him – this was not a part of her plan – she started feeling more than intrigued. Affection? Love? Lust? Maybe something even more than all these? Was there some sort of crazy, human emotion she had for him? For a man?

She had her honor to think about; her pride. She was too stubborn – truly a daughter of Zeus in all aspects – to think of telling anyone of her feelings that she had locked up within her stony heart. She couldn't even tell her sisters – though why she would want to was a question in its own – they would shun her. That would surely be a disgrace in her own misery. So she told no one, and no one sought any information of her in this matter.

He consumed everything that was hers – her time, her dreams, her thoughts. She had given herself over to him so completely, yet she was wholly unaware of it. It was as if he had caught her in a net, the way he would catch fish, and she would hope to be free – and it would be whisked away again.

She had always thought that being in love was horrible – it left you vunerable and weak. With love, someone had control over you. With love, someone could hurt you. Love was more dangerous than it seemed – though often people turn a blind eye, because lies are better than the truth. False pretences and affections are better than being stabbed in the back.

But love wasn't at all what she thought it was. It was not what she had expected it to be. It was better. It was worse.

It was frightening and breathtaking.

And he did not know of her secret affection for him – no one knew – and he was content in marrying someone else at first. He did not know she loved him. He did not know he had the highest honor of being the first man she had ever loved. Nor would he ever know. And that was almost worse than loving him.

Almost, but this secret desire was addictive, and he could not know.