A/N: To all my amazing lurkers and readers, I apologize for my long absence. Starting back up at University has been taking my soul. I will try to update weekly if I can.

Also, I'd like to dedicate this story to TryingNotToLoveYou, the author of two stories, "Broken" and "Eternal". Her passionate, beautiful, ethereal writing has inspired me to write this story. Yes love, I haven't forgotten about you! :)

Trigger warning: This chapter does contain coarse language and heavy drug usage. Please read at your own discretion.

Anyway, this is a long one, so…enjoy, my loves!

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The Diadem of Zeus

She did not know how much time had passed between her entrance into the car and their final destination. All of it had been much like a dream; you could feel it and hold it in your hands, but when your eyes opened to see out into reality once more, the breathless dream was gone, replaced by a crumbling patchwork of reality. Her heart had slowly begun to feel cold, frozen down to the reddened bits at the bottom, juxtaposing strangely with the warm night air. She took a final, deep breath of wind through the rolled down car window, grasping her backpack with quivering fingers as the Maserati was slammed into park. There were wide gates before them that sat agape, with strings of mismatched lights coiling up into their bars – a prison that always stayed open. The driver could not pull forward into the driveway any further, for the lines of shining, beast-like muscle cars filled every inch of the pavement leading up to Athena's house.

With not so much as a look toward the driver, Christine shoved her door open and climbed out, swaying for a moment upon her platform boots. She shut the door softly, running a hand along the side of the car, her fingers brushing the trident emblem with light curiosity. How she longed to pry it from the side of the car, to ruin something that dared to be so flawless and beautiful. It did not belong here, in this small moment of her life. Nothing lovely or smooth should ever be put in front of her, lest she prick her finger upon it and watch it turn to ash.

The Maserati faded from behind her as she stalked up the driveway, relief and adrenaline flooding into her veins once she glimpsed her friend – Athena, the queen – perched upon a white sofa outside, next to the large stretch of pool that glowed with lights lining it's cemented floor. There were throngs of people everywhere; leaning against their cars, swimming naked in the pool, lounging at the long metallic table that was piled with elegant glasses and assorted liquor bottles. Christine smiled, brushing a hand absentmindedly through her curls. She would surrender to the night soon enough.

She could feel the heads turn, the burning eyes upon her as she made her way through the crowd. She would not sway her path to look at them, for her heart could not stand another compliment, another an empty sentence trailed by a looming, vulgar expression.

"Christine! Oh, you made it!" Athena called out, her sweet voice cutting through the music and the murmurs of the glittering society surrounding her. Her light blonde hair was braided with lavender strands, pinned upon her head while darker dreads fell down the curve of her back. "Come here, come sit…" she patted the empty seat next to her on the leather couch. Christine skipped over to her happily, knowing that the table by the couch was already filled with immaculate white lines.

"I've missed you!" Christine exclaimed, settling onto the couch and wrapping her arms around Athena. "Thank you for letting me know about the party…but I might have dropped by anyway." She set her backpack onto her lap, unzipping it in a blur of anxious, quivering fingers. Athena smiled, her golden teeth striking the bright lights that illuminated the high walled yard. Clipped pieces of succulents grew out from the walls, blocking out the dull gray of the cement. It was very much like a prison – with gleaming lights, topless women, and of course…enough cocaine to drown in.

"Oh my god, you wouldn't believe the amount of shit I've had to deal with this week. There's been moving trucks everywhere, and I mean everywhere, Christine…" Athena puffed on a small joint that she held between two fingers. Christine nodded, barely listening as she slid off the couch and over to the glass side table, helping herself to a line. She threw her head back, feeling the soft tangle of her hair fall down her back. "Moving trucks come and go," Christine replied nonchalantly, snatching a strewn drink to clear her throat. "Besides, I'm sure no one is ever going to move into that black penitentiary, you know the one in the cul-de-sac…didn't someone die there?"

"Yeah, an overdose…but seriously, someone moved in there. I'd fucking know, I've been watching those damn trucks unloading all week! So irritating," Athena shook her head, watching Christine snort another line. She stayed kneeling, as if in prayer, her head thrown back again to catch a glimpse of the stars. Her blood began to run rampant, and her heart swelled with a sudden and immense feeling that tonight, out of all the nights in the world, she would reach up and scrape those very stars…with cocaine shoved under her fingernails and lining the insides of her lips. Christine let out a small bit of breathless laughter.

"Who cares about moving trucks, Athena? You live in one of the most private neighborhoods. Nothing to complain about there."

Athena leaned forward, shaking her head at Christine. "Christ, slow the fuck down, Christine! I'm not sticking you with a needle again, by the way…way too fucking dramatic for me. Christine!" Athena huffed, noticing the distant glaze in Christine's pale eyes. "Are you even listening?"

Christine laughed. "Listening to you bitch about needles and moving trucks. Not what I came here for."

Athena smirked, uncrossing her arms as she stood up from the couch. "Come on, let's play a game. You need to get out of your head. Your eyes are glazed over as if you're already dead."

"I wish I was dead," Christine sniggered, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. She stood up, grabbing Athena by the hand. "Oh poor me, I live in a mansion, and there's been moving trucks blocking my driveway…moving trucks! Can you believe it?"

Athena shoved a fingernail into the underside of Christine's wrist. "Shut up, already…just let me bitch to you for once, okay? I listen to all of your bullshit."

"I don't talk about my bullshit anymore. It doesn't matter."

"Well, maybe you need to…you're going harder than usual."

Christine disentangled her hand from Athena's, but still followed through the open double doors of the house. "Are you going to play therapist like my manager? Or just try to finally be my friend?"

Athena sighed loudly. "Okay, no more arguing, all right? I'm guessing you had a shitty night. So let's enjoy what my entourage has to offer. And come on, you'd like a game…it will take your mind off things."

Christine shrugged, ignoring the men who eyed her as they made their way inside. The ceilings were sky high in the vast, open living room…complete with random pieces of abstract paintings that covered the walls. Athena led Christine over to the long, bright pink sectional…already taken by a few people that Christine distantly recognized.

One was a model she had partied with before. The poor girl looked like she hadn't eaten in months, but she smiled as Christine walked up and sat next to her, draping an arm around her shoulder.

"You!" The girl shrieked, her voice shooting up an octave. "Where have you been, lady?"

"Oh, just playing the role of drunken, fucked up diva…the usual," Christine replied, kissing the girl on the cheek. "I haven't seen you since we both threw up in the pool!"

"Yeah, a mess that my housekeeper laid into me for," Athena complained, sitting opposite of Christine and the skeletal model. Another person lay with their feet up on the sofa, a man that Christine had never seen before. He had long dreadlocks that were pulled back into a bun, and he eyed the three women curiously, taking slow drags off of his cigarette. "Hey, Christine," he commented lazily, watching the smoke unfurl up into the air. "You decided to grace us with your presence, I see."

"Sorry, I don't remember you. Not at all," Christine quipped, while Athena and the model let out a stream of uncontrolled giggling.

"Christine, you're so cruel!" The model laughed, standing up from the couch. "Let me get us all some drinks…Athena's got a new game!"

"Yes, so I've heard…does it involve doing lines until we fall into the pool?"

"It could possibly," the man replied, reaching out a hand for Christine to shake. "I'm Zane, Athena's friend." Christine shook his hand quickly, eager to release it and draw another line upon the mirrored coffee table. "Pleasure," she responded, her eyes falling away from his as she dug inside her backpack. Her phone was vibrating, but she merely pushed it aside for a blue pack of American spirits. She pulled one from the pack and stuck it in the side of her mouth, eyeing Zane while extending a hand. "Do you have a light?"

"Yeah, here," he reached out with a silver lighter, calling a tiny flame to light with the flick of a finger. She leaned forward to light her cigarette, then immediately pulled back – she wanted nothing to do with this Zane, in fact…his presence was irritating her otherwise euphoric mood.

The model – Hazel – Christine remembered, came back to the sitting area with glasses and a large bottle of whiskey. She set a glass in front of each one of them, filling it halfway with ice-cold, dark brown elixir.

"Okay! Now we're ready to play," she added happily, sitting down next to Christine. Athena smiled, sliding from the cushions and pulling a small sack of glimmering white powder from a case underneath the couch.

"It's for safekeeping!" She snapped as the others laughed, undoing the rubber band that was tied around the baggie. "I have tons of people over like, four days out of every week. I can't have them digging into my private stash! Jesus," Athena narrowed her eyes, using a small spoon to scoop out a pile and line it up on the table.

"Okay, here's the game; it's simple. Kiss or dare. You either take the dare that's given to you, or you have to kiss any body part called out by the person that names the dare. Everyone got it?"

"Oh god, seriously, Athena? This is the game?" Christine looked at Hazel, and both began to laugh again, leaning into each other while gasping for breath. Athena kept her face calm, adjusting a braid that was coiled into a heap on her head. "You're laughing now, Christine…but just wait your turn. You might have to kiss some random guy's dick. Wouldn't be the first time, though…"

"Well, you're the one who taught me," Christine countered, smiling wickedly over at Athena. "Fine, fine, let's do it…trust me, there are few things I wouldn't do. So these lips won't be kissing anything tonight."

"That's what I'm counting on," Zane said slyly, taking a sip of his drink. "I'll go first."

The game began as a senseless conjunction of words, with laughter echoing every line that Christine snorted. She began to feel as if she were out of her own body, flittering around the ceiling with wings of gold. There was nothing she wouldn't do. The dares began to get reckless as time went on, and liquor glasses were emptied and refilled. The mirrored table was filled with residual cocaine and constant pale lines, like tiny serpents that bit instead of kissed. Then came the dare that Christine had been waiting for – something that absolutely no one would have the backbone to do. She knew Athena sat brewing, across from her…mad at her careless behavior, upset about the fact that she hadn't called in two weeks…Christine could almost feel the hatred burning in the air. But she loved it, oh, how she loved it, this soothing hatred…

Did Athena not know that she lived off of it's fruitless nature?

"Christine, I dare you to go to the black penitentiary, the one filled with all the shit from, yes, I'm saying it, those damn moving trucks. I dare you to climb into the backyard, swim naked in the pool, and steal the crown of thorns from the statues head."

Christine laughed, leaning her head back into the sofa. Music swirled in the background, but it was trash compared to what she played in her mind…useless and senseless words mixed with melodies that meant nothing.

"Athena, how the hell do you even know there's a statue? Did you watch every minute of the move?" Zane chuckled, downing the rest of his drink. Athena smiled widely, nodding enthusiastically. "You better believe it. If someone moves into this neighborhood, you best believe I'm gonna spy at what they have in their house. Gives a good inclination to how much money they have," she shrugged. Zane laughed loudly, and Hazel giggled, squeezing Christine's knee with her hand.

"Christine, you're not going to do it, are you?"

Christine stood up, feeling as if there were great angel wings ripping from between her shoulder blades, knocking everyone and everything to the wayside. "A crown of thorns," she repeated, raising an eyebrow at Athena. "And you're sure there's one on a statue outside?"

Athena smiled, her eyes glittering dangerously. "I saw them move it into the backyard. And oh, Christine…those walls are about eight-ish feet. So have fun climbing them."

"Fine," Christine replied carelessly, raising her chin like a proud lioness. "Are you guys coming with? After all, how will you know if I swim naked or not?"

The four of them made their way through the crowds in the house, passing couples on top of each other, clouds of dark smoke, and liquor glasses filled to the brim. They entered out into the night air through a side door – what was it with these beautiful side doors that could take you secretly into the darkest of nights, with no one to judge or scream out your name?

With Christine in the lead, the small throng walked down onto the blacktop, cutting across two other houses until they came face to face with the obsidian cement palace that sat in the middle of the cul-de-sac. All the windows were dark, save for an upper balcony that was flooded with light. There were two large, wing-like structures that served as a driveway gate – Christine wandered up to them, pressing her face in between the bars.

"I'm gonna have to go in through the back, over the wall," Christine whispered to the entourage behind her, stifling their laughter with their hands.

"Don't go, Christine…someone died in there! I bet it's haunted," Hazel said worriedly, grabbing Athena's hand for comfort. Christine ignored her, making her way around the left side of the gates, plunging herself into thick darkness.

She knew the others wouldn't follow her, nor would they have the nerve to climb the wall with her, to make sure that she did in fact take her clothes off and swim naked in a stranger's pool. But she wanted to spit in their faces, to show them there was nothing she wouldn't do…to let them see how truly reckless she was, deep down inside.

And the crown of thorns would prove that, if it did indeed sit on the head of a statue.

She made her way along the wall, feeling thick ropes of leaves and vines in her hands. Christine discovered that the farther back the wall went, the more unruly the shrubbery became. She knelt down and unzipped her platforms, leaving them a few spaces from the wall. With bare feet in the cool grass, she shivered with pleasure, finding a foothold in the vines and began her ascent up the wall, hoping desperately that the vines continued on the other side.

She made it to the top of the wall and peered over the edge, her hands gnarled into the wreaths of ivy. It was a very modest space, but big enough for a rectangular pool that stretched out, lit from the cemented bottom. The house itself was quite breathtaking from the back – with a large open kitchen area that was, to her dismay, very well lit. She eyed the far corner of the yard, noticing the biggest statue of them all…Zeus, carved of a light colored stone, with veins and hands that ripped away at his clothing. A gleaming, silver diadem of thorns rested upon his chiseled, curly head…shining like a beacon across the glistening surface of the pool and misted grass.

Christine closed her eyes, and imagined her wings opening – they could take her anywhere. She swung a leg nimbly over the side of the wall, but her bare foot slipped upon the unnaturally smooth surface, causing her to topple from the safety of the vines, and into a large rose bush at the bottom.

She winced at the amount of thorns that pricked into her skin, but did not betray a single sound; she would not give the others any indication of hardship or pain. As she rolled out of the bush, she stood up slowly, looking up from where she had fallen. Christine thanked an unknown entity – certainly not God – for the tasteless and gaudy rose bush that saved her from shattered both hips.

She darted across the grass, her bare feet sliding and slipping on the moist tendrils that seemed to kiss her every inch of her feet. She reached the statue with ease, looking over at the outdoor kitchen area for movement, or any kind of alarm…yet there was none, only a strange, eerie silence.

She took another deep breath, climbing up onto the statue carefully, her feet finding a nice hold in the brawny arms of Zeus. She reached up for the crown of thorns, pulling it from his head and settling it atop her own. She smiled, shaking her head at how easy the task had been – and surely, the others would never forget her brazen courage. She would have bragging rights forever…

Christine dropped down from the statue, reaching up quickly to touch Zeus on the arm. "Sorry," she whispered, patting the crown that nestled into her scarlet curls. "It's mine now, Zeus."

Just one more task, one more and she was home free. Christine began to rip off her clothes, tossing them into a pile near the statues' feet. With only the silver crown upon her head, she slid into the pool, breaking through the glass-like surface with grace and ease. She swam the entire length of the pool underwater, already imagining the awe on her friend's faces, and the pure mound of snow awaiting her nostrils back at Athena's place…

As her head broke back through the surface, her ears were filled with a deep, echoing growl. Her eyes flew open, and she found herself face to face with a large Dalmatian, whose black ears pointed upward like horns upon a monster. All she saw were it's teeth, and it snapped at her, causing her to flee back into the center of the pool. Yet every direction she moved, the Dalmatian mimicked her movements, chasing her from one end of the pool to the other. Christine's blood was racing, pounding inside of her head with a nuanced sense of fear – how would she get out, how would she get her clothes and climb a smooth wall with no vines while a great spotted beast nipped at her heels, seeming ready to maul her at any second?

"Leia," a soft, masculine voice called out, and Christine's heart shuddered as the beast turned upon its heels, heeding to the call of the voice. The voice itself was different; low, with a bit of a rasp…and she turned her head slowly, treading water in the center of the pool, forgetting that the crown still perched upon her head…and she saw him, standing in the bright light on the edge of the outdoor kitchen, the spotted beast laying down by his feet.

He wore tight black slacks and a tucked in shirt of grey satin, his figure striking against the fluorescent beams of light. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal skin that was covered in dark ink, in shapes and forms that she could not make out. The sides of his head were shaved, just above his ears, with polished hair that was pulled back into a knotted bun. Half of his face was covered in a pale shell of the moon – or so it seemed, upon first glance. She noticed that it was a mockery of the other, uncovered side of his face…that which was devilishly handsome, with light hazel eyes that glittered, and a mouth that was pressed into a firm, hardened line. She could not breathe. She did not even notice the crown of thorns slip from her head, sinking all the way to the bottom of the pool.

…

A/N: Well, my darlings? What do we think? As always, emotions, feedback, or comments of any nature are so very precious to me. Thank you for reading. Love, L.