Coming Of The Season: Designs
To be honest, he'd planned to be much more pro-active about his inquiry into this newly-found daughters life. And then, Elle showed up. That was really his only excuse. But really, who could blame him? What was more distracting than the goddess of chaos?
Elle and he were an on-today, on-fire tomorrow deal, and he loved it. She was the perfect taste of bitter that stuck in his mouth, all burnt flesh and and destruction in her eyes. He let his fingers trail up Elle's thigh and ignored her completely squeal of glee. The only one who looked slightly disturbed or shocked was that girl, Nathan's daughter, and she was new. He studied her for any signs of the above-it-all attitude of the above gods - the ones who had always been named above him. His lips twisted as he wondered what 'gift' he would bestow upon the girl. He tapped his lips. Perhaps thought? She looked like she could use some. There were too many air-head goddesses these days. Like Maya. Powerful, for sure, but not a brain cell to be found.
He glanced over at the girl, squeezing a little higher on Elle's thigh. She looked preoccupied with her meal, biting at her lip... Almost nervous. He raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. Goddesses were usually self-entitled, and always so self-assured. It was refreshing to see one with respect for her elders. Very easy on the eyes as well, but then again Nathan would hardly admit to fathering an ugly child. He rolled his eyes internally and diverted his attention back to Elle, who was chattering on about some kind of war she'd struck in the British Empire the other day. That would have explained all the shades they'd received from there in the last week. He'd have to talk to Nathan about getting Elle on a leash. As much as he enjoyed her wild spirit, it always made him pay in some way.
"It is now time for the gifting ceremony." Peter announced in a loud voice, smiling reassuringly at the girl who bit at her lip harder, eyes stony and sharp. Even stranger, Sylar mused to himself. "The three gods of old will show the goddess the three domains - sky, belonging to Nathaniel, the king, ocean and it's mountains, Samuel and the earth - Sylar. When they have shown her their domains, they will gift her with one thing that shall help her in her purpose." He cleared his throat. "And then she will be crowned."
Sylar watched carefully as Nathan took his daughter's hand, took in the way Noah's mouth twisted and the way Angela's smirk stretched wide as the two vanished with a bright blue flash.
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Claire couldn't believe it when she opened her eyes. God of the skies, they called him, and he certainly was - she was standing on diamonds - no, burning spheres of rock. It was beautiful and magnificent, and for the life of her she couldn't breathe.
"It is beautiful." She heard Nathan say from next to her, and pursed her lips.
"It is," she remarked lightly. What does one say to the father she never had?
"It gives the mortals rain, does it not?" Nathan sighed. "But Noah would know more about that than I."
"Noah is my father." She said tightly.
"I didn't say he wasn't." But it was what was unsaid in his booming voice that Claire resented.
"It's beautiful." She said again, and refrained from saying anything else because what was the sky without the earth?
Nathan sighed beside her, and then said quietly, "I gift you with forgiveness and mercy, so that you might one day forgive me."
Her heart clenched and all in that one moment she wished to curl into a ball and sob, hug him and destroy him. The sky, stars and him faded before she could do any, and left her on a huge rock in the middle of a seemingly endless ocean.
She turned, and met Samuel's eyes - brown like the earth, but something liquid in his mouth that the earth would never possess. He was a liar - she remembered the stories about him, Silver-tongued Samuel, who had used his mouth and clever words to steal his wife, the sea nymph Vanessa away from her family and by his side. She drew her eyes away from him, and looked out at the ocean.
"Hello Claire," he said with a warm, affectionate smile that she mistrusted immediately. "Welcome to my home."
She could taste the salt on her tongue as she gave him the standard praise a god was entitled to.
"Samuel of the sea and mountains, I thank thee and give thee praise." She said, bowing. She had not done this for her father, she realized with a start, and he hadn't asked it of her, something that immediately made her just that much more receptive toward him. She had a feeling that men such as Samuel lived for the praise, and would ask - in a way that was less than nice.
Ruthless Samuel, Bastard Samuel, she remembered all her father's names for him and bit down on her tongue.
"The sea is powerful, and it brings both joy and destruction." His eyes glinted. "Tread carefully, Claire, for it can bring you both as well, goddess or not." Her eyebrows jerked upward, eyes narrowing. She had not expected such a thinly veiled threat, not even from him, but she guessed that was what came from being the daughter of the king of Olympus. Biologically, anyway.
"I will be sure to do so, Uncle." She said, baring her teeth in a poorly covered snarl. "It was nice of you to warn me." He barked out a harsh laugh, and said, "I wish you all the very best in your tenure, my dear, and I think..." he hesitated, before smiling without sincerity, "that I shall gift you with wisdom - I think you'll need it to keep that temper of yours in check. After all," he said, eyes mocking, "you're only a real god among the flowers."
And with that, Samuel faded and she was left in darkness.
The last domain; earth. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the dim lighting of what was clearly the land underneath every other land.
"Not beautiful; no. But it is what keeps us grounded." A deep voice spoke from next to her. "Not your flowers or your father's clear skies."
She felt her temper rise slightly as she snapped at one of the oldest gods in creation. "My father has no skies. He gives the mortals wheat and bread." Apparently Samuel's wisdom wasn't working - she didn't think speaking out of turn with a god known particularly for his ruthlessness was wise. She bit her lip and stared at the ground.
"Both of your father's tempers then." His voice was deep and amused, running up and down her spine. She shivered and glanced around the domain wonderingly.
"How do you live down here?" She asked, looking with distaste into the darkness. "There isn't any... Light." She frowned, running her hands up and down the walls of earth, trying to summon some flowers or well... Even weeds would be an improvement.
She felt a tingle in her palm, and frowned determinedly as she willed the flower her father had put in her hair earlier to sprout.
"It's useless. Nothing grows down here." She heard him say, but it only fueled her determination. She closed her eyes, placing her hand on the spot of earth in front of her. She felt nothing at first, but then, slowly, she felt warmth grow. When she removed her hand, there was a pale white flower with a yellow center.
She smirked at the God of Destruction triumphantly. His eyebrows were raised almost comically high on his forehead.
"That's not supposed to be possible..." He said, his mouth set in a tight line.
"Why not?" Claire asked, stroking the flower's petals. "This is earth, after all."
"This is in the Underworld's domain, princess." He said, and she could see his lips twist in the darkness. "Nothing grows here. That was how I made it." She could feel his eyes on her skin, like a feather's touch, but darker and deeper, staring into every inch of her soul. "You seem to have broken my rules," he said softly, eyes alight with curiosity. "Special, aren't you?" He practically purred, taking a step closer. She took a step back, and was trapped.
"I gift you with strength of endurance. Flower children like you will need it - especially in Olympus." He turned abruptly, and Claire found herself in the throne room of Nathan's palace, Sylar, Nathan and Samuel sitting on the gold thrones in front of her and the other gods clamoring on either side of her.
Nathan stood, and out of thin air produced a crown of golden leaves. She bit her lip, and then, as if he could read her mind, Noah stepped forward, and without a word, took the crown from Nathan. She sank to her knees in front of him, and she emblazoned the moment in her mind because that was the single bravest thing she'd ever seen anyone do.
Even for a god, going against Nathan was signing your own sentence.
She felt him place the crown on her head and the sirens begin to sing. When she looked up, her father was smiling and Nathan was snarling.
"She is crowned, now and forevermore, Claire of Olympus; daughter of both Nathan and Noah of Olympus and the goddess of the harvest."
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Down below...
Sylar was warm and sated. Hair tickled at his neck and he grumbled, pushing Elle off him and out of the bed. She groaned, and zapped him with a miniature lightning bolt in retaliation.
"Bastard." She murmured, and he smirked, folding his arms behind his head.
"Not what you said last night." He quipped back, closing his eyes. "Now get out."
"Mmmm." Elle groggily slipped her himation around her body, eyeing Sylar as she did so. He was long and lithe, the candles by his bedside brushing over his body in a way that made him perfectly... Delectable.
She slipped her chiton back off.
"Elle..." He murmured, and she was surprised, because he rarely ever called her by her name. "Don't you have something to go set something on fire?"
She laid a kiss on his shoulder, then bit at the joining of his shoulder and neck, placing her knees on either side of his hips and grinding down. He growled, and then she was on her back and she laughed up at him, quieting when she saw the darkness in his eyes.
He kissed her, slowly and deeply, and then he was inside her and the candles went out.
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A few hours later, Elle was gone and there were problems that needed to be dealt with.
Namely, Nathan and his propensity to leave his toys around.
The doors swung open, and Sylar stepped into Nathan's throne room. He gave a mocking bow. "My king."
"What do you want, brother?" Nathan asked, smile indulgent and relaxed.
"Nothing too big, I assure you." Sylar paused for dramatic affect. "I want the Fates out of my realm."
Nathan stood, all false cheer gone, replaced with a snarl. "Know your place, Gabriel." He hissed, and Sylar tensed for a fight. "You have no right to demand that of your king."
"I have all the right in the world, Nathan. You were there when we swore on the river Styx - we would move them every turn of the century between our three domains. They haven't moved from mine in the last millennium." Sylar's eyes narrowed. "And since you are indeed," Sylar smirked, "the king, you cannot dishonor your promises. What kind of example would that set?"
"Examples are only set when people have knowledge of proceedings." Nathan sneered. "And since mortals and gods alike know nothing, and I doubt Samuel is eager to share, you are left alone." Nathan smiled again, the image of justice and righteousness.
"Get out of Olympus, Gabriel." He said with the same forced joviality. "You never did know how to play our games."
Sylar clenched his jaw and turned his back on Nathan, striding toward the exit. He flicked a finger and the golden doors opened.
"I think you'll find I make an excellent player." Sylar said tersely, and the doors slammed shut behind him.
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Sylar had always been aware that Nathan was a - as Peter had very aptly put it one drunk night, a 'prick'.
He had never been negligent of his duties as a king, however, which was why he had been surprised by Nathan's refusal to take the Fates into his realm. The Fates - the Moirai - were the most powerful beings after their father. They created life - they planned it and stopped it, and that kind of power... That kind of power, though intoxicating, should never be in one realm for any extended period of time.
They disrupted things.
Especially the souls.
Sylar clenched his fists, staring down at the earth below him from the top of Mount Olympus. It was green and fresh, as it always was.
There. He closed his eyes, and he was down on the earth, in the shade of a particularly large olive tree.
"Don't you dare look out your window..." The girl was, Sylar had to concede again, beautiful. Unaware as well, he thought, watching unapologetically as she stood in the small pond and tilted her head back toward the sky, humming under her breath and unbeknownst to her, revealing an expanse of sun-kissed skin that he devoured with his eyes.
Claire brushed back a strand of golden hair darkened to brown by water from her face and sighed at the sunlight, a dazed smile on her face. A plan was forming in his mind - a plan that would give him what he needed - leverage. He watched as she took a step forward and the water level dropped to her hips, revealing round breasts and the impression of hipbones that he wanted to run his fingers over. It was time to make an entrance.
"Claire, goddess of spring." He said, slipping out of the shelter of the tree. "What a happy coincidence."
The girl spun around so quickly that drops of water splattered everywhere around the tiny pool.
"Lord Hades," she said, eyes wide. She turned her back on him, obviously in some desperate attempt to preserve modesty. "Indeed..." He heard her struggle and stumble over her words. "What a pleasant surprise."
He had never cared for pleasantries.
"Rise," he said, "out of the water." She turned slowly, and her eyes were hot and angry. She smoothed her long hair over her breasts and slowly stepped out of the pond and out of the pool. Brave girl, he thought, as her chin stayed firmly upturned in challenge.
He never let his eyes stray from her face, though he had to admit he was tempted. He waved a hand and her chiton appeared over her, achieving some pretense of broken modesty.
"Is this normally how you address women, my lord?" She asked, lips pursed and he felt like laughing at her prudishness.
"No." He said flippantly. "I have to admit that usually the chiton stays off."
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Claire seethed under her breath as he invited her to sit next to him on the stone bench under the olive tree he had stepped out from behind of. He was so - She felt like slapping him, she couldn't even muster up a word to define him.
"I am sorry about my abruptness." He said, and Claire's mouth would have dropped open if she hadn't refrained herself. She'd never heard of a god apologizing before - especially not to measly goddesses.
"I merely wanted to discuss something with you." He continued, and Claire's frown deepened.
"With me?"
"Yes." He smiled at her, and his brown eyes sparkled. "I would like to beg your assistance.
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Peter liked his quiet mornings in the park. Few mortals were around at the time, and no one questioned his disguise; a simple peasant boy with a flute. He hummed a few notes quietly under his breath and played them out in a simple melody that had been sticking around his head since Claire's crowning. It was a jaunty, happy tune that he was sure the mortals would love for their celebrations.
"Emma!" The panicked voice made his head snap up, and he was just in time to watch a girl of about 21 years stumble and fall headfirst into the stream. He was there before he could think, holding her broken arm gently between his hands.
She looked so frightened and small, already shivering from the cold water of the stream that he took pity on her and sent a bout of healing energy through her arm, enough so the broken bone turned to merely a bruise.
She stared up at him with wide, confused eyes. "Th - thank you." She stuttered, but her voice sounded strange and unnatural, almost as if from disuse. He held her arm a little tighter, concentrating and - oh. His expression softened, eyebrows drawing together in sympathy. She was deaf.
Almost as if she could hear his thoughts, the girl drew her arm away, expression suddenly cool and closed off.
"Thank you," she said again, and her voice was hard as she turned then she turned back, and said, "I do not like insensitive eyebrows." With both her hands and her mouth.
Peter stared at the girl as she walked away, stopping his eyes from lingering on her hips as he transported himself back to Olympus.
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"Is this all your work, then?" Angela placed a hand on Lydia's shoulder, and the goddess of love shrugged, looking out at the earth from the balcony of Nathan's palace.
"You realize it's hardly my choice." She said carefully, lifting her hair so it fell over her shoulder, gleaming in the daylight. "My designs come from the Fates."
"Oh pooh." Angela said, eyes narrowed. "That may be true to a certain extent, but not all of it falls to them. I am quite confused with some of your choices, I have to say."
Lydia let out a soft, tinkling laugh, eyes dark and knowing. "Oh, it's hardly a choice, mother." She said, eyes turning dreamy. "It's all about the desires."
AN: So, if you haven't already noticed, there will be a lot of sex - in the rest of this story, there will be more than what you read of Elle and Sylar up there; there will be actual smut. In detail. This is Greek mythology, even if I am replacing the characters with people from a TV show. So please be prepared for a lot of sex if you are going to continue reading.
I just thought I should warn you. I really hoped you enjoyed this last chapter, and please tell me how you feel and give me some feedback if there's any particular character you want to see a little more.