Chapter 8

Circe watched through her mirror with delight as the lovers were reunited. For her revenge to reach full penetration, she would have to have the two fall back in love, to depend on each other once again, for the betrayal to be full when she and he were torn apart.

"Oh dearest child of my most bitter rival," she spoke to no one in particular. "Are you starting to long for his touch? Remember those sweet, stolen kisses, so private, so virginal, in the gardens?" Her voice swooned, sickly sweet as she stood up, feeling her very blood boil, her anger raging out of nowhere.

No, she thought to herself. Not out of nowhere; out of the wrongs done to her by the former Queen, the wrongs done to her by Hippolyta, that the new Queen, Diana, must atone for.

Her slender fingers, tipped with long, sharp, purple lacquered nails, cast over a goblet of sea water as she began to chant. It appeared that the love birds were not reuniting in an emotional way that they she had opened, certainly not fast enough for the inpatient witch. She had been waiting for centuries to get her revenge, she had waited so long that the original target of her revenge had died and she was left having to extract it from the original target's progeny. Never mind, the child of Hippolyta, rumoured to have been sired by Ares himself, was a matter of two birds with one stone.

Circe worked a spell, a love spell, not to blind the two to their problems, to the past violence between them. No, Circe was devious. She knew that the knife would cut deeper if, rather than forgetting their past sins against each other, Diana and Arthur forgave each other. If they forgave each other, and rekindled their romance, only to be torn apart... Circe couldn't help but laugh out loud as she thought about the heart break the young Queen would suffer through.

Circe cast the spell, her shimmering eyes fluttering shut as her full mouth spoke the words required to set the spell in motion; something designed to be so harmless, designed to be, in fact, quite helpful, was going to take on a much more devious meaning. It wouldn't be a love spell, merely one that would remind them of their happier times, of the passion, if any, the two young lovers had shared in the past. He would forgive her trespasses, and she would forgive his, casting them off, perhaps, as desperate acts of war, a war neither of them really started.

One part of Circe hated to provide such a balm to Diana's soul, having so enjoyed watching the young Queen languish and suffered under the memories of the atrocities she committed, and the hatred that Arthur possessed for her. But, she would remind herself, the temporary relief of pain and anguish would make the final outcome, the broken hearts, that much more broken, her revenge would be that much sweeter. The higher the fall, the harder the landing.

When someone you love betrays you, you have nothing. You have no one. Nobody can be trusted anymore. And that's the most alone you can ever feel. Circe knew exactly how that felt, and soon so would Diana. She had been the favoured devote of Ares; she had even desired to bear a child for the God of War, but Hippolyta, with her axe and shield, had stolen her God from her.

Her heart ached, her eye burnt, as she thought about the humiliation she had suffered. Hippolyta, brash, brazen and blood covered, fresh off the battle field. She had prayed to Ares, and to her own patrons as an Amazon, the Goddesses Aphrodite, Artemis, Athena and Demetre, for a child as a result of her battle field bravery.

The popular rumour that Hippolyta told everyone, including the girl child herself, was that Diana was carved by Hippolyta's own hand from clay, and that the Goddesses so blessed her mother as to be able to bestow life upon the clay form, the spirit of the child Hippolyta had been pregnant with when her first spirit was killed, prior to her resurrection as the Amazon Queen.

Circe had been loyal; she had prayed and worked her magic for the benefit of Ares and his cult. She had gifted some of the stronger members of the cult with near invulnerability, and yet the Amazon was always favoured. And when Circe wished to bear a child, the honour was given to the barbaric sword slinger.

She watched Arthur swimming gracefully, watching the blonde swim as naturally as, well, a fish. He was incredibly graceful, and with his blonde hair, shimmering like gold in the murky water, he almost reminded Circe of the love she had lost in the God of War. "Oh, this just gets better," she swooned, drawing a finger along the mirror, caressing along Arthur's shoulder. "Oh yes..."

Her laughter echoed through the chamber, her revenge, as cold as it was, would be had. The sexually charged sorceress snapped her fingers, summoning one of her handsome boy toys she kept around. "Summon Triton, will you," she said with a smirk. The beautiful slave nodded and disappeared out of the temple.

When Ares had shunned her for Hippolyta, she began planning her revenge on the Amazons. She had dug through and discovered that the eldest son of Poseidon, a God named Triton, had once asked for Diana's hand. She slighted him, turning him down. Conveniently enough, he still held a flame for her, and a grudge against her former fiancé.

It turns out, the little would be under water Romeo had killed Triton in order to secure his position as Poseidon's favourite and champion. She called in her last favor from Hades, the God of the Underworld, and had his nephew returned to the land of the living, now owing Circe a favour, extended even further when she offered him the Amazon Queen.

"I just love when a plan comes together!" she tittered, laughing maniacally as she waved her hand, dispersing the images from her magical mirror.