A/N: Hey y'all! I know, I know, I'm horrible, but the past five (?) months or so have been awfully crazy and they gave me very little time to write. BUT I finally got back to writing and decided to make a comeback just in time for Christmas :) I also started to rewrite this story in my native language (Greek) with tons of changes to the storyline, so if I write something in here that doesn't add up with the rest of the story as you have followed it, you know what to blame.
So, Merry Christmas to those celebrating, Happy Hanukah to all Jewish readers (if there are any) and a Happy New Year to everyone, regardless of religion :)
As always, reviews are welcome :)
31st December 2006
Zappeion Megaron
11:45 P.M.
Nada. Nichts. Zilch. Niente.
He hasn't called. He. Hasn't. Called. Not even once. Neither a message nor a call. Not even a wish. Or the slightest sign that he's alive. Just so I can keep my hopes up that things will get better between us. Eventually. One day.
Or so I hope anyway.
Alright. I get it. If Ares doesn't want to make the slightest bit of effort to win him back, I won't pay him the least bit of attention either. I'll simply pretend he does not exist. And I'll damn well succeed in that.
Just wait and you'll see.
Oh god, who am I fooling? I mean, look at me! Hiding in here, with all that hustle and bustle going on in the atrium. 2007 is about to be chimed in and I stand in here, the very definition of royalty, looking like yet another wreck. Well, I might as well be. Judging my all that alcohol I have consumed today.
It's a miracle I haven't found myself vomiting my guts out tonight yet. And no, before you ask, that's not the language royalty use. But give us a break, will you?
No, for real though, help me here. What should I do? Should I call him? Should I wait for him to call me? And what if he never calls? What if I'll spent the rest of my days stuck in here, staring at this stupid screen?
Well, don't look at me like that, I've never dated Ares before! I mean I don't even know if what we're doing right now can be considered as dating or as anything but...
See? Told you! This whole situation is bloody confusing!
Oh, how I wish I could just call someone... Anyone... But Astris is still very much pregnant, my Three Graces have their own parties to attend and, well... I do not have any friends that I can confide in regarding that issue. I guess you could say that I fear they might sell this story off to the wrong people I guess.
But still.
"Achoo!"
Oh, no, that wasn't me. Wait... So, if that wasn't me... and still sounded close enough... Then...
Great. Just what I needed. Another person in my hiding place. I don't have the time nor the mood for them. But I cannot keep them hiding in there forever, now, can I?
"Who's there?"
A hand pops up from inside a room. Well that's something. Then I'll see the head and then I'll be able to tell you if it's a boy or a girl. But, good for you, I don't have to. I wouldn't keep my hopes up in your place either.
It's Hephaestus. Do you remember him? That good ol' pal of mine? The one that I'm supposedly engaged to? Gatsby personified? Or was he supposed to be Buchanan...?
Whoever came up with that comparison in the first place anyway?
And why the hell does he keep staring at me like I just got him red-handed?
"Well, great," I say, very annoyed as you can imagine. "What do you want?"
Needless to say he looks... surprised. Startled. Like he's just seen the greatest miracle of his life pretty much.
I know I look great in full regalia. Let's move past that.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness," he replies and bows. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"But startle me you did!"
Oh, for heaven's sake, Froufrou, where the devil are your manners?
To hell, last time I checked. And having an jolly ol' time too.
Poor Hephaestus now looks even sorrier than before. "I- I do apologize. I didn't mean to..."
Great. A deja-vu just about now is exactly what I needed. "Why are you hiding?"
"I am avoiding the big crowds," he says. "Like you."
"Ha! I'm not avoiding anyone!"
"Then, if I may, what keeps you hidden in here for most of the evening?"
This is so going nowhere. "Did you know I'd hide in here?"
He shakes his head. "No. No, not at all! I just..."
"Just to make something clear," I cut in. "What we do have is mere blooming friendship. If you give me my space and I give you yours, we can make sure that this will become something more. Besides, neither of us is certain that we will get married after all!"
There! I said it! Finally! Oh god, it feels so damn good to be relieved!
Please don't take that last bit the wrong way. You can see the context.
"You... could try and be somewhat friendlier yourself, then."
Wait... What was that? That thing that he just said?
Calm down, Aphrodite. Take deep breaths. You'll find your way out of it, I'm sure.
"I cannot be kind tonight. If you dare ask me why, I shall never talk to you again. Is that understood?"
He bows but that smile on his face still remains.
Well then. Time to play my one last card. "Excuse me."
I walk out. There is only so much that I could take.
Lesson I learned today: being the top corner in a love triangle is damn hard work.
And don't try to change my mind.
I'm already drunk enough.
Zeus could not believe his ears.
"You're mad," he spat, scanning the three people in the room. "All of you."
Amphitrite dug her nails deeper into her skin. Poseidon had been right. She shouldn't have said a bloody thing. Ares had trusted her, opened up to her, and she had betrayed him in return. Yet, all she wanted was to protect the family from harm. Such an atrocity could not be kept a secret for long anyway. But perhaps she had done it the wrong way.
After all, Hera had always been better at dealing with such things than her.
She was also the only one that dared stand her ground against Zeus at this time.
"Don't believe us if you wish," she snapped. "But unless you drop that sarcastic grin of yours-"
"Hera, please!" Zeus interrupted her. "Do you really want me to believe this? They are siblings, for heaven's sake!"
"Adoptive siblings!"
Amphitrite bit her lip. Sensing her distress, Poseidon put his arms protectively around her. Noticing them, Zeus asked them to leave. This was not a discussion they should make in front of an audience - even if said audience had consisted merely of their informants.
Poseidon and Amphitrite had been all too happy to oblige. Hurriedly leaving the room, Amphitrite held on to her husband's arm as firmly as she could. Once out into the long empty corridor, he asked her if she wanted a drink. Amphitrite nodded. A shot or two of ouzo just about now would be just what she needed.
Inside, Hera thought the same.
Zeus put his hands into his pockets and stared at his polished black shoes. Hera felt uneasy. She knew that, every time her husband did that, she was in deep trouble. But she had no other choice. Too many things had occurred which Zeus had to take care of. Their bankruptcy, Hephaestus, Dione... This... He just couldn't do it alone. He wouldn't last.
Yet, instead of treating her as an ally for a change, he persisted on treating her as if she were the enemy.
"If only you would just say something!" she spat.
Zeus stared at her. "You have evidence, you say?"
"Indeed."
"I trust they are reliable," he said. "Since you believe them!"
"Ares confided everything to Amphitrite one night when he was drunk. That's all!"
"And why do you tell me now?"
Hera gave him a stern look. If he were smart enough, he'd find the answer to that question by himself.
"I must admit, I do admire your sense of timing," he added. "You know about Dione's offer."
The Queen fixed her posture. "Indeed."
"Then you also know that I would be an idiot to turn down such a tempting offer."
She didn't hold back. "You're selling off the family."
It was Zeus's turn to clench his teeth. Approaching Hera, he said, in what may have been a threat: "This family won back the throne because of them. You know that better than anyone."
"It's been twenty-five years, Zeus!"
"So?"
Hera took a step back. "That doesn't mean..." She took a better look at Zeus. "You haven't!"
"There now," he patted on her shoulder. "I trust your fair judgment!"
She wanted to hit him. My god, she despised him! But she couldn't.
He had always been the one to make all of the decisions.
He had been the head of the family. She simply had to follow.
Just like she had always done.
11:50 P.M.
Atrium
Helloooooooooooo world.
Oh no, don't worry, we're still stuck in 2006. For now, at least. Frankly, I have no idea why they brought us all out to the atrium, where the roof is now wide open. It's cold and everyone here has to cling to their coats while they attempt to mingle with people that they never liked and who they will continue to dislike for years. But! Peacock had set out this precedent and everyone must follow! Yes, even the ones that want the evening to be over already.
Which, by the looks in everyone's faces, that includes pretty much... all of us.
"Why does everyone look so stiff?"
That was Hebe. She managed to sneak into the room so she wouldn't have to chime in the new year in the company of people her age. Frankly, I'd have loved to switch places with her, but unless I hide her under my coat - as I have been faithfully doing since she was a tiny little elf - no one will. (Alright, well, perhaps Eileithyia would, but she's still her mother's daughter.) And why do I do that, you may ask? Simple. The girl wants to see the fireworks and it is my duty, as the eldest sister, to ensure that she will. And then I'll give her a good talking to as to why sneaking out in a room full of adults in formal wear is actually pretty dangerous for her. And then I'll hide her under my coat again next year until she's too big to fit in, in which case, sorry honey, but no atrium for you until you're eighteen years old and adorn your very first tiara.
Who made those stupid rules, by the way?
And where the devil is my mother?
I swear, she was here just a while ago. And then she disappeared. Her and Zeus Almighty. Peacock is here, talking to aunt Hestia as if nothing is the big deal. Oh gosh, what if... Is that why I feel so queasy?
Well I can't do it. Not right now. I cannot possibly fathom the mere possibility that the new year might arrive and I'll be in the bathroom, doing what every other person who's had a little too much to drink is supposed to do. I can hold on a little while longer. And then I'll probably do what other people in here have already done and sneak out into the small garden nearby and just... do the deed.
But for now, I need to hide Hebe. And I need to worry about my parents. And Mother's offer. And Ares.
Why, why doesn't he just pick up the goddamn phone!? Why do I have to stand there, enduring Hephaestus's presence in the room, who tries to humiliate me by promptly avoiding my stare? Well, so be it. If the offer doesn't do the magic trick of freeing me from this ridiculous arrangement, our discussion a while earlier surely will. Besides, even in the odd case that it hasn't, I will still have the upper hand in that marriage. I am the future of the Crown, for heaven's sake!
"Ouch, you're hurting me!"
I look down at Hebe. Easy to do that with the thickness of the crowds. "Sorry, honey."
I must have held on to her a little bit too tight. I do dig my nails deep into something every time I am upset. My baby sister's shoulders was probably the "victim" this time around.
"I don't like you when you're upset," Hebe whispered a bit more. "You act all funny."
I tickle her a little, just to the nape of her neck, and she titls her head to indicate for me to stop. She's very ticklish, this one, and unless I stop it soon enough, the entire room will find out our little secret. And then, bye bye little birdie. See ya when you're eighteen - if your mother has forgiven you by that point to let you join them, that is.
Well, at least there will be fireworks at midnight. Just like every other year.
And we're supposed to like fireworks. Aren't we Hebe?
"I want them to be colourful!" she whispers again. "More colourful than ever before!"
"Me too, darling," I reply. "Me too."
Dione stepped into the room. The note that she had been handed by some footman was safely hiding in her purse, away from the prying eyes of the world and Aphrodite's anxiousness. She had read it as fast as she could.
The King would like to talk to her.
In private.
She was hopeful. At long last, Zeus would give her the answer she so longed to hear. He had made up his mind. It was her offer he'd finally settle for.
Yet, facing him, she started to doubt. His shoulders were tight; he was clenching his fists. How awfully easy he was to read... Even after all these years, she could still remember what the slightest gesture signified.
She was still afraid of that determined glimpse in his stare.
He didn't waste a second: "Tell me the truth about your offer."
She stopped on her tracks. What could she possibly say? There was obviously more to that question than he dared reveal.
Zeus crossed his arms. It only made him appear more determined. "How much do you know about Ares and Aphrodite?"
Dione scoffed. So that was it, then. He did find out the truth after all.
"I didn't stop her because I want her to realize for herself what a grave mistake that was," she said. "I know, it was terribly naive of me. But you know our daughter. She's like a child. Naughty, until she realizes that what she is doing is indeed inappropriate."
"Inappropriate?" he snapped. "Is that how you would describe it?"
"We did not come here to discuss adjectives, Zeus!"
He took a better look at her. She just looked so... different dressed like that. Tiaras had always suited her. But that didn't mean they also befitted her.
"You didn't curtsy," he said.
"Why the need?" she replied. "We are on our own, aren't we?"
"I still personify the Crown."
"I see," she nodded. "And it should always come first, shouldn't it?"
"For fuck's sake, they are siblings!"
"Adoptive siblings!"
It was Zeus's turn to scoff. How awfully alike Dione and Hera were at times! As if he had never really divorced Dione at all. As if he had married the same woman, only with a different face and a better political instinct. All they both wanted was to protect the family. Yet their greatest difference lay in their methods. Hera's focus was the family as a whole. Dione's, on the other hand, was merely the individual concerned.
That might have been due to her not fearing scandals anymore. She didn't have anything to lose but a little bit of her dignity and a small amount of her money. The Monarchy, however, was different. One misstep and everything would turn to ashes.
Still, the Oceanides family remained Zeus's only way to survive. They had made sure of it once, nearly thirty years ago. They would definitely secure the Throne for him this time around as well.
If only he played by their rules.
Hera had been right. He was indeed selling their family off. He had thought about it over and over again. Still, no matter the many sleepless nights he had spent tossing on his bed, he always reached the same conclusion.
He ha had no other choice.
"Now," Dione interrupted his thoughts, sounding impatient. "Do you accept my offer or not?"
"On one condition." He avoided her stare. "You make sure that Aphrodite has found someone else."
She drew a deep breath. "In that case," she continued, "you should make sure to keep Ares... otherwise occupied."
"Sleep soundly."
Dione smiled. "Thank you," she said. "I sincerely wish the same for you as well."
Zeus had no idea how to react. Better her than Hephaestus, he thought. At least the Oceanides family would never take advantage of their royal connection. Not in the obvious way that the Petalas family would have done. He knew them. He could trust them.
If only he could hope that he had not just made his greatest mistake.
1 January 2007
Midnight
Atrium
"Three... Two... One... Happy new year!"
Everything goes into a frenzy. Champagne bottles flash open; fireworks explode above; my mobile phone rings.
It's Ares.
I... I don't... I can't... It's neither the time nor the place. There's people all around. Thick crowds that keep embracing and wishing each other all the best. But I just... cannot join them. I'm too confused to do so.
Actually, I have no idea how I'm supposed to feel. Happy? Mad? Or relieved? Or all at once, even?
Mother takes my hand. She asks me if I'm alright.
"I'm fine," I reply. But she knows that I don't mean it.
She clenches my hand and gives me a reassuring grin. "Smile," she says. "You'll make a spectacle of yourself otherwise."
That's the hardest bit.
The crowds are cruel. And so are my feelings towards him.
Damn you, Ares! Why do you constantly have to make everything so bloody difficult?
Army base, Alexandroupoli, Northern Greece
He smashed his phone against the wall.
That's it, then. To hell with her. He had done what was expected of him. He had tried to get her back. She turned her back to him. Alright. He could live with that.
They had always been a mistake together anyway.
But why? Why was it so damn hard for him to stick to his words? He stared at the broken pieces on the floor, approached them and started to put them back together. He turned his mobile phone on again. He'd have called her. Asked for a second damn chance. Perhaps she'd pick it up then. She'd apologize to him a thousand times over, he'd persist that he had been the wrong one all along, she'd burst into tears and get him back into her arms like nothing had ever happened. There'd have not been any fight over babies that shouldn't have been born or weddings that should never take place. Aphrodite would be his again.
And come whatever the hell may.
No. He was too selfish for that. If he tried to call again, he'd display weakness. Cowardice. Aphrodite had apparently made up her mind by now. She had chosen Hephaestus. The weakling. He'd make her happy. He'd give her the adventure she so longed for.
Whom was he kidding? Her fiancé would never. He didn't have the damn guts required to give her what she wanted. Aphrodite liked herself a chase. A game of hide and seek. Without it, love was nothing. She had to come after the men she desired, or else, what was the point?
Ares had been one of her multiple victims. He was aware of it. He knew that he had occupied the most special place in her heart - he had been her greatest conquest so far. She had accused him of being obsessed with her. Well... Same for her.
Maybe she hadn't picked up the phone all that time so that she would spite him. Test him. Perhaps she turned it off this time for the very same reason. Alright, then. He'd go on playing by the rules.
He was but her humble servant, after all.
Private Quarters, Royal Palace
1:00 A.M.
Frustrated by his inability to fall asleep, Zeus turned to the side and stared at the adjacent door. A few years ago, he'd have opened in, stepped into Hera's room, and tried to persuade her to be on his side again. But he knew better than to make such a fool of himself now.
Damn you, Hera, he thought, as he punched the pillow supporting his head.
He had watched her from the minute they left Zappeion. His eagle stare had followed her into her room, as her maid helped her transform from the Queen back into an ordinary woman. First the tiara, then the rest of the jewels, and finally the dress, all neatly handled and stored into wooden boxes and nylon cases. Yet she had refused to remove the expression of her face. She had noticed him, of course. She had felt his eyes on her as he, himself, had been having his own regalia removed only to become a troubled man on his bed, struggling with his thoughts in the early morning. Her refusal to talk to or even look at him revealed to Zeus that it would be a tough few days ahead for the two of them.
Zeus got it. Hera had wanted to teach him a lesson. He had finally understood why she had disapproved of Aphrodite and Hephaestus's betrothal so eagerly at first, until his daughter's behaviour made her change her mind overnight. She loved her family too much to see them sold off like that. Somehow, amidst all that chaos, he must have promised her that he'd protect them from harm - any kind of harm. Yet, be it the alcohol or the exhaustion, he could not bring himself to remember such words coming out of his mouth or the moment he had made himself that promise first before moving on to announce it to his spouse.
Damn you, Hera.
He wouldn't apologize. For his part, he had done his duty by protecting his family and the Monarchy from harm. He had known destitution. He had to live with it for a good ten years of his life, whilst his country was still under a tumultuous dictatorship. True, he had begged for money. But he'd much rather humiliate himself behind the heavy doors of his office rather than to do so over wine and champagne in some Greek tycoon's house in London or New York. His mother had always told him that people may have no control over their weaknesses, but they should choose between revealing them to the world or keeping them to themselves. He held the most extraordinary office in all the land - in every sense of the word. Being a monarch had always been the most solitary position. No one could understand how heavy the Crown felt on someone's shoulders or how fragile it truly was. All it took was a fall. A mere forceful fall, and the hundreds of precious gems that gave the Crown its brightness and significance turned into various shiny stones on the floor. Broken and alone.
He detested that. He had to keep true to his promise - both to the people and to his mother. He wouldn't be the King who'd fail. He wouldn't be the end of the dynasty. He'd abdicate once Aphrodite was mature enough to make as little mistakes as possible - even if it meant following the traditional route and making her wait until his death. His legacy would be one of greatness and to achieve that, he had to be as wealthy as he looked.
Theirs was a dangerous world. It left no room for missteps.
Hera understood that as well. Hence the lack of sleep on her part. They were selfish people, the two of them. If only Zeus had listened to her fair warnings all along, if only he had not acted as that stubborn child he has always been...! They'd have never found themselves enslaved to the Oceanides clan for life, losing Aphrodite from their tight grasp and living in fear of not losing what they spent so long acquiring. Yes, it was tough to be Queen. She constantly had to stand by her husband's side, helping him shine and keeping him from harm. The occasions that demanded her own voice to be heard had very little to do with his own agenda. A Queen was powerless in the presence of a King; yet she was just as significant. The brightest jewel in his collection. His most trusted advisor, for she could see the toll the Throne took on him. Yet Zeus was as stubborn as a small child. He was drawn to shiny things and every time he fancied something, he had to have it at once. That's why he had married both his wives in such a rush. Did he regret it? She hoped so. Only thus could he be taught a lesson.
So, they were back to their familiar ways again. Her wishing to have her voice heard and him acting in spite of her. For the good of the family. For the future of the Monarchy.
"Goodnight, Zeus," she heard her voice whisper in the dark.
Pity she couldn't hear, behind the locked door, her most familiar sound, muttering to himself: "Goodnight."
Nothing else mattered in the present. Just their music.
It filled the room. They were alone. At long last, they returned to the safety of their familiar surroundings. The world outside that door was strange. Dark. Well, of course. No sane person would dance at this hour.
And after such a feast too.
It was over. My god, it was over.
"Ares and Aphrodite are someone else's trouble now."
Amphitrite held on to her husband for dear life. Once again, out of sheer habit perhaps, she felt guilty about something that was not entirely her fault. But she hated to see Hera in distress and she couldn't bear the thought that she had been partly responsible for that.
The Queen couldn't suffer yet another blow to the well-being of the family.
No one could, really.
But Poseidon was smiling. He was cheerful again, after what seemed like forever. She adored seeing him this way. Still dressed in his tuxedo and in full regalia, he was enjoying his drink - "the last one for tonight, I promise" - and tapping his foot to match the rhythm. Amphitrite was not quite sure whether she should join him in the celebration or not. Yes, she was relieved. But she couldn't fathom the exact reason why. Was it because Zeus and Hera knew? Was it because she was tired? Or was it the thrill of the new year? Either way, she knew she shouldn't trouble herself over it. What was done was done.
Even if she wanted to turn back time, it was too late now.
Besides, that night came only but once a year.
Poseidon, noticing his wife's absentmindedness, took her hand and twirled her unexpectedly. His grip on her was strong, almost forceful, and as she twirled in her heavy gown and jewels, she lost her grip on the glass of red wine he had offered her. It splattered. On the centuries-old handmade carpet (one of the dynasty's heirlooms), on Poseidon's fine tux, and on Amphitrite's skirt. They didn't hear the glass slipping from her gentle hands and breaking on the carpet, on the very spot it soaked.
Neither spoke. They stood apart, his hand still firmly holding hers, and stared at the disaster they caused. Their clothes were ruined. As for the carpet, someone would fix it.
Someone else, surely.
It was always up to other people to fix this kind of things.
Poseidon cursed himself for his clumsiness silently. He ought to remind himself every day that he ought to be gentler with Amphitrite. She was his own little precious Pearl, after all.
He remained silent, out of fear for having ruined the celebration. This night, this tradition of theirs, came but once a year. It was their own way to chime in the new year, away from the sneering crowds, the loud chatter, and the prying eyes. It was just their own little thing. And he ruined it.
But Amphitrite's giggles proved him wrong. She covered her mouth with her hand and laughed like a small child that had just eaten all the chocolate.
And suddenly, the old tango tune was replaced by another, finer music.
He loved to hear her laugh. It made him feel like everything would be alright.
She left the spur of the moment lead her to his arms. Closing her in his embrace, he held her close and they began to sway to the rhythm. They shouldn't speak. But they couldn't resist the temptation either.
"Happy new year, Pearl!"
"Happy new year, my love."
The party is over. No more flashes. And no more fairytales.
First goes the cape. The gown looks much simpler now. Boring, even. Anna stands behind me and unzips it carefully. It falls to the floor. I step out of it and take off my heels. Before Anna could even pick it up, I ask her to leave.
I want to be alone.
She nods. For once in her life, she'll put nothing in its place. She can always do that tomorrow. Besides, I rather like this view. The abandoned gown on the floor, rid of all its formidable glory.
Just like it should.
I stand before the mirror. My jewels are back in their boxes. Neat and tidy, waiting for that armed officer to come and put them back to their vault. Until the next time they will have to come to light. If the occasion falls for it.
Nothing remains from that gala. Just my messy bun and my makeup. But they will be gone too, before even dawn breaks.
Say whatever you want; I just can't take it anymore.
The King knows. Father knows!
I could see it in my mother's eyes as she sat next to me. I read it again and again in the text message she had sent me. Try as I might to convince myself that it had all been an awful lie, the words were still there. Unchanged. Cruel.
At that very second, I realized that my wishes would remain hopes. I should feel ashamed. But I did nothing wrong, did I?
I just... fell in love.
What could be so hideous about that?
Why did everyone have to be make feel so disgusted with myself?
And why did I let them?
If only I could somehow turn back time... I would undo everything that reminded me of him, starting from that very night. In London. Perhaps, if one of us had pulled back... If one of us had tried to speak some sense into us, right there and then... Maybe I shouldn't have attended that party at all. It would all be better then.
No broken hearts; no fire within.
No damn pain.
So, why the need? Why cling on to the protection of a stupid mask?
Everything has been destroyed. Hasn't it?
I dig my nails into my hair. I start to pull at my chignon, as hard as I can. I want to destroy it. Hairs and bobby pins fall to the floor, but I don't care. I want to hurt.
Who knows? Maybe I'll finally convince myself that my tears are worth something.
I'm tired. Tired of fighting, tired of screaming into the void...
Ares is right. I'm not strong enough. I cannot stand my ground in the battlefield. I can only act brave when people call me a coward. Well.. that, at least, us two have in common...
That's why it's so damn hard for us to get to the bottom of this. We're both too selfish for our own good.
What we had could have been wonderful. In another life.
I fall on the bed and burst out crying. It'll ease the pain.
That's the way it always is, isn't it? Each tomorrow is a new beginning. Until the sun sets again. Then you start over. Again and again.
Until life has passed you by.
I do not need any blankets. I don't need to keep myself warm. Besides, the sun will rise soon anyway.
If only daybreak would work its magic this time. I wish for it all to just... stop...
There has to be some way out of it.
I just can't take it anymore.
The stars were dark tonight.
It was always like that in here. She missed her home, she longed to go back.
But what was home to her anymore?
Is that what she had been her whole life? A runaway? She was constantly looking for a place to hide, to escape the most vicious, most improbable enemy.
Herself.
A Crown does not make one a King. She had uttered those words right there, in that very room. That night had been as dark as this one. She had stepped in dressed like a Queen. Wearing the same tiara and a deep blue gown.
Oh, how she had loved it so!
It had reminded her of the Cretan sea; of all those peaceful mornings she'd stroll along the empty beach with Zeus in her arms, a baby growing into a toddler.
That year had been 1962. She had just witnessed her husband's ascension. He Greece had now a new King. And Cronus, drunk as he had become from all that wine, had wished to celebrate, in the only way he knew best.
She had locked herself in there, hair askew and out of breath, in search of a refuge. Zeus's scattered toys had filled the room. And he had been sleeping soundly on his bed, at seven years old, blissfully unaware of the grim world outside. She had removed her tiara first, then the light blue sash, and finally the star. Laying by his side, she had taken him in her arms and had begun to sing. A lullaby. The very one she'd sing to him as a baby, hidden in that cottage, crying himself to sleep.
Sleep, my beautiful day and night with the small stars /
Oh, my pretty garden, filled with flowers and jasmines
Yes, that was home to her. Embracing her darling son, she could transform. From scared to brave; from crying to smiling; from vulnerable to impenetrable...
She had held him tight. His little body had become her shield. Keeping her from harm. Teaching her to live again. One step at a time.
Her breathing had synced with his.
What could he have dreamed of that night?
Somehow, she had always wondered. Did her children dream? Did she? Since when? All those cold nights by Cronus's warm skin, she had learned not to trust illusions.
Nowadays in Crete, she took random glimpses of old photos. They flooded the walls and the heavy furniture. A way to remember; a way to forget.
There she is, facing the camera. Cronus lurks behind her, in his astonishingly obvious majesty, his hands behind his back. Like a shadow. Like a ghost.
This is the sole picture she's kept of him.
And she was smiling. Oh, how pretty was her smile! For the first time in her life, she had faced her worst fear. She had stood up against him. To protect her son from harm. Cronus could not touch him with her standing in the way. Slowly, steadily, her other children became aware of her. They followed suit.
It's hard to make up for the years you have lost.
Nights kept her awake now. Since she had arrived here, she could hear his footsteps echoing outside her door. Safe as she knew she was, she pictured him handsome and alive, crawling into her bed and causing her the worst of pains.
Turning her dreams into nightmares. Her visions into reality.
Robbing her from her own self.
Was she going mad? If so, could she blame her?
She had spent the evening trapped amidst a crowd. A vain mob of unknown faces and incomprehensible chatter. Yet, in a funny way, they provided the perfect hiding spot. They wore her out, gave her a headache, forced her to consider...
She took another look outside the window.
Oh, the beauty of the darkness! The faintest glimpse of light was enough to illuminate it, to set it all aflame. To destroy its magic.
Truths and lies. The eternal battle.
She'd see him again. Soon enough. She'd visit him in that house that everyone believed was theirs. Isn't that where he had lived since she had gone away? A prisoner of his own seclusion?
He must have changed. He was certainly older now, if that could ever be possible. His hair must have turned whiter. More wrinkles should be scarring his face.
He was getting older. Frailer.
Just as she was.
They didn't have much time left.
She looked at the picture again. She had hidden it between her clothes in a small suitcase. Just as she had carried her jewels to safety the night they were forced into exile. Thirty-seven years ago. Might as well have been a lifetime.
She could feel his touch on her skin. It was harsh. Cold. Very much like tonight.
But she didn't tremble.
She'd free herself from his grasp. For twenty-three years, she had been trying to forget. Hidden in a house by the sea, buried amongst the trees... Like that mob she so loved to despise.
But it wasn't enough.
Pain ought to be shaken to the core. To be crashed down and destroyed. Only then could light conquer darkness.
She took the picture in her hands. Her wrinkled, tired fingers softly caressed her youthful, paper skin. And then his. She drew a deep breath. Another look into his determined eyes.
Her heart began to beat again.
Out of nowhere, she heard a voice. One she hadn't heard in years. Barely audible at first but steadily growing louder and louder. An echo turning into a scream.
You don't scare me anymore.
It had belonged to her young self. The words she hadn't dared utter back then.
She threw the photo to the floor. It was just a piece of paper. Nothing more. And he? He was just a man. A man who was old and tired. He could no longer hurt her. He wasn't strong enough for that.
She drew another breath. She heard the voice of that woman again. Time had left its mark on her.
"You don't scare me anymore."