From his throne he gazed down upon the world of men, a fierce penetrating look which no mortal eyes could hope to endure.
Darkness cloaked his empire, broken only by the crystal fire of starlight and the silver radiance of the moon.
The form he had assumed for what lay ahead was tall and commanding, one which would have made a powerful impression at the court of any king on earth. Yet beneath the semblance of mortal flesh veiled even from immortal sight lay the true deity. Even his queen did not know his true face, or the depth of the power which was his alone to command.
Nor did any on Olympus know of the exhaustion which had long ago claimed the soul of their king. Indeed he took care that none should ever glimpse the truth, that there was nothing in the immortal realm which could stop the flow of thoughts that would not let him rest. He was so weary of it all. The endless unchanging flow of eternity, where little occurred to amuse or slake his thirst for something, anything to mark the passage of centuries.
In spite of endless strength, power and the highest place among the gods, he had never discovered the one thing which could bring him joy. And so eternity had continued on, relentless, unchanging and stifling. Yes there were the duties he was expected to perform, the careful use of power and the pleasure of receiving the sacrifices and prayers mortals offered up in his name.
When it had happened he did not know, but there came a moment when he had turned to the mortal world for an answer. What had led him to look there he could never afterwards recall. Perhaps it was the need to find something unique to satisfy this unfulfilled longing, or the increasing number of thoughtless petitions which mortals had been sending for what they considered the greatest and most illusive thing of all. Their songs and tales were filled with this common thread, one which countless bards and musicians never tired of repeating.
The quests of heroes, eager to receive the gift of immortality. Many a passing thought, framed in ignorance and foolish desire had been carried to him upon the wind. Words spoken in moments of passion, joy and triumph, strengthened by the invocation of his name, had lent them power and the right to be formed within his mind. Let this moment endure forever. May this victory be remembered for centuries.
How often when such fragile prayers were formed had he longed to answer with words of scorn or condemnation. To say that if they truly knew what it was they desired, then mortals would learn to be content with the time the fates had ordained. But he had learned enough of mortal desires over the centuries, to know that even if he had answered such frivolous petitions with outright rejection or silence humanity would always strive to attain the impossible.
He was not the only deity who sought to grasp and comprehend the unending current of forever. All immortals sensed even sought to tame the relentless flow of eternity, but none ever fought against the siren urge to surrender, to resist the temptation to ignore, question or seek to struggle against the insistent pull of the inevitable. He had been content to let its current take him where it would for untold centuries, never wanting or needing anything to alter his course.
But there had come a moment when he became aware of something stirring within the core of his essence, and though he tried hard to ignore it in the end it would not be denied. Then his eyes had been drawn to the mortal world. He saw how they lived, each life no more than the slightest breath of wind, or the brief flicker of a flame to his eyes. Yet each mortal life was filled with vitality, a desire to attain glory and leave an honorable legacy for the next generation to treasure. To a mortal each moment was precious, each triumph and sorrow a living experience to be reveled in and savored like the finest of wines.
There was none of that tenacity and thirst for any immortal being to experience. Instead each god or goddess seemed content with their place on Olympus, only turning to mortals when in need of amusement. . These moments of reflection had led to the birth of something within his essence, a hunger which no power or wonder of the immortal realm could assuage. And as he watched he began to long afresh for the passion and strength of the human spirit to become a part of his existence.
And that desire had led to thoughts of a being he had long considered an enemy. The surprising realization that Prometheus had surpassed the gods in his insight into the human race. For by gifting them with fire, he had helped to lift them from their simple lives, offered humanity the chance to learn and flourish as never before. In that moment of realization he thrice damned Prometheus for his choice to gift men with the sacred fire of Olympus.
And yet he understood what had prompted that decision. For how had he or any other deity used such a mighty tool before Prometheus's choice? With the exception of Vulcan, all under his rule saw fire as something to which only immortals had a right. Mortals had used it, harnessed its power to create and nurture.
But still he cursed the day that gift had been given. For if it had never been bestowed he would not now feel this great emptiness and desolation. It had driven him to seek, to use every power at his command to discover and satisfy this craving which remained a constant awareness beneath the flow of his existence.
And so he had descended from Olympus, to walk amongst mortals in constant search of something he could not name. He had taken his pleasure with many women, reveled in their beauty and grace, only to cast each aside when they did not fulfill the void within. Each conquest had been different, his approach and seduction planned as carefully as a general devises a strategy to ensure the victory of his warriors. Courtier, soldier, prince, these and a thousand other forms he had taken. Close observation of the mortal world, not the squandering of power which could be used for far more appropriate things had assured him every conquest, and he had enjoyed each to the full.
But still he sought, knowing that his fellow Olympians often visited the mortal world for amusement, but without truly understanding what it was they were desiring.
Even he had not yet discovered the answer, until one evening when he entered the city of Thebes, and met the princess whose wedding he was to approve on the morrow.
Semele.
She of all Cadmus's house was most glorious, most passionate, a unique and intelligent woman who deserved so much more than she was receiving. He had met her only once, and yet the memory of that brief encounter had remained with him, one of the few moments of interest which shattered the monotony of his existence. In Semele he had discovered half of the answer he was seeking. He desired someone who loved and followed the siren call of power. But deeper still ran the need for a consort who would not just desire, but learn to revel in all he would offer, instead of calmly accepting each gift with haughty arrogance.
Resolutely he forced himself to think only of the work ahead. For discerning the workings of fate was no easy task, one which would require all of his concentration and skill to perform on the morrow.
And before he could prevent it all that he had sought and desired for so long poured forth. Thoughts born of desire and the hope that he might in this mortal princess discover the way to quench the longing which had driven him to the mortal world again and again.
May the omens I read on the morrow speak against this joining.
May she be meant for another who can bring her joy and fulfillment.
Let her not be destined for Athamas, but for me.
Note from the authoress: Hello to all of you reading this story. Sorry for the delay on this chapter, but life has been busy and this story was really giving me trouble.
I meant to start incorporating elements of Handel's version of Semele into this chapter, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get anything written.
Sorry to anyone wanting more from Semele, I hope to go back to Thebes in the next chapter, and she will of course play a huge part in this story.
Where this chapter came from, I'm not quite sure, but once I got started I really began to enjoy writing from the point of view of Jupiter.
I'm sticking to the Roman names for the gods as that's what Handel did for his opera, probably because they are easier to sing.
I love receiving feedback for my writing, and as this is the most complicated story I've posted and I'm curious about what you the readers think reviews are always welcome.
