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Chapter 3

A few months later…

Amphitrite had never felt like this before. She felt free, relieved from all duties that she had had to assume as a goddess and Queen of the Sea. She had a man who adored her and that meant only her. A new experience, no doubt, and certainly refreshing one. James was a handsome, attractive man, oozing confidence. That was fine, because Amphitrite would have crushed a weak man in a moment – she had no tolerance for weaklings, both human and gods.

She was quite taken with her new life. For more than three thousand years ago, since had been just one of the Nereids, she hadn't felt just like one of the crowd, insignificant and due to answer to no one. She had forgotten how much she liked it. And she liked James too. She was not sorry for her decision to be with him – he was absolutely worth it. Charming, handsome, intelligent, well-mannered and devoted to her, he was everything a woman could dream of.

Every woman.

But Amphitrite was not a woman. While her body resembled quite close that of a mortal woman and her soul was not much different, she had different view of the world, different urges, different needs. She could never be happy in the mortal world. Not for long. She was born a sea creature, a great goddess in her own right and even greater by marriage. She felt the pull so strong that sometimes it took her breath: the pull of the ocean. The pull of Poseidon.

During the day, it was easier to ignore it: she busied herself with different things, as well as with James. During the night, though, it was unbearably hard: she lay awake and listened with heavy heart at the raging sea. She was the only one who knew why it raged and swelled: not because of the strata moving beneath, as the TV explanation read. The hurricanes, the sunken ships, the dead people were not due to some geographical disturbance. It is because of me, she thought. Because Poseidon is searching for me, and he can't find me, and the sea reflects his distress. For the others, the seething ocean meant strength, and fury, and uncontrollable power; to Amphitrite, it meant helpless anger, a shout of hurt, an increasing despair. At the beginning, she had actually enjoyed knowing that she had caused her husband pain – he had been doing the same thing to her for millennia! It soothed her wounded pride to know that no matter how many affairs with mortal women he would have, she was the only one who wielded such power over him – to make him lose control, to make him suffer. Because he loved her, Amphitite had known that even when she had run away. But love had never stopped him from causing her pain.

Anyway, after a while she had stopped reveling in his distress. She did not enjoy hurting him, not really. Not for long. After all, she loved him, had loved him from the start. Yes, she had left him, but that didn't change her feelings. Listening to the sea roaring, her heart went to him. She longed to reach out and caress his face, to take away the pain, to soothe his anguish with the tenderness that he had grown to rely on. She hated the thought of Poseidon feeling rejected and desperate for more than a year, even if he had made her feel this way over and over again. And even then, he had not exactly abandoned her, he had just made her share him with other women. Hundreds of them! Anyway, she knew for sure that if he found out about James and her, he would show no more mercy to James than she had shown to Scylla, for example. Poseidon could never share what he believed was his.

"Hey, what are you thinking about?" James asked, entering the room.

Amphitrite smiled. "About you," she answered almost truthfully and his face lit up. She hated doing this to him – making him think that she truly loved him. She did, indeed, love him, but not the way he loved her. The way she loved her husband. She knew that she would have never looked at him, if Poseidon was faithful to her.

"I've got a business trip to New York in three days," James said. "Do you want to come with me?"

She shook her head. She was not afraid of boarding a plane – she had no issues with Zeus and right now, Poseidon didn't have these either. Besides, what could Zeus do? Blast her out of the sky? That would be no use, since she was immortal. No, she had other reason to be reluctant. New York was too close to Mount Olympus to risk setting a foot there. The city was full of gods and satyrs who would only be too happy if they could tell Poseidon where she was. There was no doubt that he'd be generous to everyone who could help him find his wayward wife. And she could not risk anything going wrong right now. She had no think not only of James and herself, but of another being that would arrive in less than six months.

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A month later…

Poseidon walked in his throne room only a minute before the messenger arrived and he was not happy to see him.

"Lord Poseidon," Hermes greeted him with a small bow.

"Hermes," Poseidon said, trying to keep his voice calm and polite instead of impatient and rude, as it had recently become. "What brings you here?"

"A message, Poseidon, what else?"

Though Hermes' voice was even, the nervous squirming of the two snakes wrapped around his staff told a different tale. The message was not a nice one and Poseidon doubted that it had been delivered to Hermes in a civil way. Good, I could use a little distraction.

"Lord Zeus wishes to see you immediately," Hermes said.

Poseidon lifted a dark eyebrow. "Does he so? Very well, then tell him that I'll come as soon as I am done with a few matters that I must take care of."

Hermes tactfully refrained from pointing out that Poseidon didn't seem very busy. It was a dangerous thing to contradict the Sea God in his current state – he flew into a rage about everything, at virtually everyone who dared approach him. Hermes really couldn't fathom what Zeus might want to discuss with his brother – it was obvious that Poseidon was beyond any sensible argument. Only now, when she was gone, the Olympians really appreciated the calming effect that Amphitrite had had on her husband, soothing his rage and teaching him patience. But now those seemed to have vanished into thin air, just like her…

Had Amphitrite been here, she would have surely invited Hermes to stay for a while and offer him a feast; as it was, Poseidon only snapped, "Thank you for letting me know, Lord Hermes" in a voice that suggested that he was not grateful at all. Hermes quickly left the underwater palace, leaving behind the sea creatures who were desperate in their wish not to get noticed by their angry master.

For a while, Poseidon sat silently, then looked at the empty throne next to his and sighed. The situation was becoming ridiculous! For how long could a single goddess be able to hide from him? And just how crazy would he become if things kept going like this? He did not wish to destroy yet another civilization just because of Amphitrite's unreasonable behavior, but he seriously feared that he might not be able to stop himself. And she was not here, so naturally she couldn't stop him, too. She had made an art out of it – soothing his anger, restraining his fury. Before meeting her, before being with her, he had known only the rough, chaotic power of the uncontrolled sea element, and she had showed him how much sweeter tenderness was. He had been – he still was – wild, prone to quick outbursts, too proud for his own good, but much less so than before. He had grown accustomed to her love and forgiveness, to her unwavering support, to her soothing arms and soft voice. He had become dependent on them, he had taken them for granted. And now that he had lost them, he felt utterly bereft. There was no one to subside his anger during the day; no one to hold him in the night and ease the pain and fears that he cannot reveal to anyone else but her. Just because she couldn't put up with liaisons that she knew meant nothing to him! Sure, he liked, maybe even loved some of these mortal women, but what of that? They would soon grow old and die, while she was his queen, the one he had chosen to be with him for eternity – and she just left him? You'd better pray your little escape was a memorable one, Amphitrite, he thought, for when you come back, there will be Tartarus to pay!

After waiting long enough to make sure that Zeus was irritated enough, Poseidon made his way to Mount Olympus, where the deserted road and palace immediately made him realize that he had fully succeeded: the inhabitants of the sky had concealed themselves, just like their sea counterparts did every day, scared of their master's anger. He was a little disappointed, however, to see that the throne room was empty: he had hoped for a shouting match with his brother to release a bit of his fury.

"He'll be here soon."

Poseidon turned at the voice. "Hera," he said, not bothering to make a bow. For once, she didn't mind. Dressed in rich silk yellow robes, her hair immaculately done, with regal air around her, she looked distraught, nonetheless. At least, to Poseidon she did.

"You managed to enrage him well enough," Hera said lightly.

"Good," Poseidon growled. "I'll come back another time."

"Would you rather wait for him here? We can go to my living room."

Why not? When she was not pissed off. Hera made a nice companion. Besides, she looked the same mess that Poseidon suspected that he looked himself. "Sure."

He raised his eyebrows, when Hera did not call the nymphs and instead filled the goblets herself and gave one of them to him. "What an honour," he said, "to be served by the Queen of Olympus herself."

"Did you hear Father's voice in your dream last night?" she suddenly asked.

Poseidon felt his blood freezing. Very carefully, he placed the goblet back on the table. "I believe so," he said neutrally. "Why, did you?"

Her lovely face paled. "He's getting stronger," she whispered. "Zeus help us, he's getting stronger."

Such displays of fear were not typical for Hera, but they happened from time to time. Poseidon reached for her hand. "It might mean nothing, Sister," he said soothingly. "His power has been rising and fading for the last three millennia."

She shook her head. "It's different," she repeated. "He is getting stronger. Last night I heard him so clearly and I – I was suddenly back there again, Poseidon. A prisoner, crammed in there with the rest of you, with no knowledge, no future, no hope, no idea what it was not to live in darkness. I woke Zeus with my screams."

Poseidon didn't say anything. The experience that she was describing was so coinciding with his own nightmare from the last night… He only hoped that he hadn't screamed.

"He will never succeed," he said. "We won't let it happen. Did Zeus have a dream, too?" he asked. As much as he hated it, the truth of the matter was that if Kronos was able to penetrate the minds of three or more of his children at the same time, they were up for a serious trouble.

Hera grasped the hand that was still holding her own. "Yes, but these dreams never seem to affect him as they do the rest of us. Father can't scare him so much."

Poseidon nodded. It made sense. "He's never been there," he said. "He doesn't know what it was like."

"No, he doesn't," she said with suppressed energy. "No one else can ever understand – only the five of us! Some nights I still wake up in terror even without Father's kind help."

A glance from his dark eyes told her that he, too, was haunted. At least she had Zeus to turn for comfort. Since Amphitrite's leaving, Poseidon had to bear it alone. Unconsciously, she stroked his hand. Hers was cold, but surprisingly tender. As tender as Amphitrite's, Poseidon thought. I must look thoroughly pitiful if Hera shows sympathy towards me. All the same, he felt a little better. At least he had a sister, no matter how difficult she could be.

"First, Zeus' girl and now your boy," she said softly, too distressed to find the energy for anger. "The prophecy is starting to come through. That's what Father is feeding on. Oh why you can never restrain yourselves!"

He didn't answer. "Will you talk to Demeter?" he asked.

Hera gave a harsh laugh. "I am not sure I want to know," she said. "But of course I'll talk to her."

"And will you talk to Amphitrite for me?" he asked, his voice low.

Hera gave him a quick look. Despite her resentment and disapproval of his marital behavior, she could not have the heart to snap at him. She could see that he was really, really hurting. "Of course," she said, still holding his hand. "What do you want me to tell her?"

"Just tell her what I ask of her: that when the romance of the whole running-away-to-hide-from-her-cruel-husband thing wears off, she won't be too proud to come back. That's all."

Hera's eyes filled with tears. That was the story of her own life: always beloved, always wanted, always needed. And ultimately, always betrayed. Yet, looking at her brother's obvious misery, she could not give him the tongue-lashing that he – and Zeus – so richly deserved. She touched his cheek in a swift, reassuring gesture. "I will tell her," she promised and finally sipped at her own goblet of nectar.