Adonis

Olympus dulls me to abberation.

Aphrodite has chosen to remain alongside her dreadful husband, Persephone guards her virtue as if it were a jewel of the rarest quality, and the appeal of the heavens' golden streets have worn off considerably for me.

What seemed so captivating and magnificent to me a thousands years ago, now seems bland and... lackluster. The sole reason I've spent my last few hundred years inhabiting the boorish realm is because I wished to indulge myself in Aphrodite's beauty-- to ravage her wonderful body and reap the release of her inexhaustible pleasure.

But upon her sudden epiphany, she left her lovers behind --my person included-- and began a relationship with Hephaestus anew. The right to immerse myself in the delight of her lavish breasts was taken from me-- I could no longer claim her as my own as I did several a time in the past.

Why a goddess in her likeness would choose such a terrible fate for herself perplexes me! The god and wielder of the forge may be quite skilled in the art of craftsmanship, but aside from his talents, what can he spare which is worthy of such an exquisite enchantress?

I possess looks which are unsurpassed among the gods of Olympus, I am adept in hunting for sport-- only the fair haired Apollo has ever been compared in handsomeness which rivals my own-- and yet, she chose the grotesque, repulsive company of her husband in place of my own!

I would have felt slighted had it not been for the eager companionship Persephone was willing to provide. As far goes the beauty of goddesses, her own is not modest. She has many a time been distinguished aside the matron of love and beauty-- perhaps the sole title is that which attracted me to her person in the first place.

But the actual partnership with her was not pleasurable. In fact, her innocence and slow ways of character irritated me to no end, her sweet, gentle looks could not pacify my anger when I gazed upon her delicate figure. Overwhelming her beauty may be, but the child is awfully sheltered-- dim-witted almost-- in her naive and innocuous thought.

A man of my standing is deserving of conspicuous allure-- a creature whom harbors keen-wit and loveliness unparalleled-- a goddess whom heats the ichor swimming beneath my veins. I've not yet chanced upon an individual whom possesses such qualities, but I can feel the sensations of excitement and adventure warring within my gut!

The taste of exploit lingers the air I breathe, I can feel it in the marrow of my bones-- an unexpected undertaking is soon to chance upon me! I am a hunter by nature, and the seemingly endless passage of time has grown rather monotonous while spent in the company the likes of Olympus' dwellers. An alternation in the pace of my existence would be much welcome, and I've no doubt such lovely vision will soon be introduced to my charming person.

I lightly pitch my apple upwards, extending forth my hand to receive it as gravity beckons it back, bringing it up to my lips to steal a fraction of its sweet mainspring. Leaning against the warm tree bark, luscious, saccharine liquid trills down my chin and onto my chest, further enhancing the friendly kisses Helios' rays are bestowing upon my splayed out legs-- the only portion of my body which is not shielded by my mother's slight, cool shade.

I pettily graze my fingertips atop her concrete roots, allowing my thoughts to venture in the direction of my conception. Gods and mortals alike have no recollection of the first few days succeeding their birth-- but I have heard the tales and rumors surrounding my inception.

My mother Myrrha was a woman of great beauty-- men from lands across the entire globe traveled to her father's kingdom to attempt their chances at gaining her hand in marriage. Challenges were held to whomever could spar the best, whomever could throw a spear the farthest-- whomever was superiorly skilled in the craft of delivering blunt arrows in the most precise of fashions. And to gaze upon my mother's comeliness was the ultimate reward.

Yet, her astonishing charm was both blessing and curse-- for it should have been celebrated naught. Word of her grace spread throughout the lands, her seemliness was compared and elevated to that of boundless beauty herself-- Aphrodite-- and the association was not pleasing to her ears.

She called upon her friends misfortune and shame, and brought atop my mother's bosom harrowing disgrace, wishing and planting within her the sinful seed of lust-- of which fruit should not have been shared in passions with her very father.

The dishonor of such union brought forth my creation, and upon revelation of my existence within my mother's womb, her father --the king of Cyprus-- rejected her and banished her from the kingdom she was born into.

Haunted by her repugnant actions, Myrrha fled, pleading with the gods that they alleviate her suffering and transform her into a tree. Fate smiled on her, granting her, her wish and converting her veins to sturdy roots, her bare torso into a trunk, and her lavish strands of copper into useful bushes of myrrh-- a spice which was not lacking in the homes of Ancient Greek inhabitants.

Time passed, but the gods had not forgotten my existence. For several months the child within Myrrha's hollow bark grew-- developing into a babe of extraordinary beauty-- inheriting her vast winsomeness, and though unknown at the time, her father's fervent fondness for the hunt as well.

As Fate should have it, the ninth month came to be, and the bark of Myrrha split in half for the birth of her unsought son. Coincidence made it be so that Aphrodite passed along her path just as the babe's wails began to escalate, capturing her interest and summoning her to the tree's threshold.

Her eyes rested upon the divine beauty the infant withheld, and her gut twisted with lust and desire for the child's future form-- deciding for herself that he would one day become her favored lover, one whose vigorous embrace she would one day prefer in place of Ares'.

Beauty may have been her dominant capacity, but keen wit also took residence within her mind. She knew she could not keep the child, lest the leering eyes of gods and goddesses came to rest upon the beautiful being, and they too decided they wished him for themselves.

Thus, she journeyed into the hideous depths of the Underworld and called upon the presence of Hades' queen. If she were to raise him and keep him within the safety of the Underworld's bounds, Aphrodite would cause her husband to fall for another-- thus freeing her from her bondage to the darkest realm.

The former quickly ceded to the agreement, eagerly hoping for her impending freedom. She was but a child in woman's clothing however, for she grew capricious as time relented to my growth, and as all those whom beheld my beauty, fell in love with me. She'd smite any whom dared approach me, including the Cocytus nymph Menthe, a creature of keen attractiveness.

She had chanced upon us on one sole occasion -- I had been between loving her when her shriek disrupted our activities-- and it was enough to transform my lover into a small plant, one I could no longer satiate my needs with.

My time in the Underworld was dismal-- I longed for the warm caresses Helios offered mortals, I wished to prance along the blades of grass which grew by Demeter's dictation, and I thirsted for the feel of Aphrodite's generous breasts beneath my lips. A woman whose beauty even I --a man Persephone denied her identity to-- had heard of through manuscripts existing within Hades' hidden library.

It was not until I tasted adventure outside the barren realm that I realized hunting was a sport far more fulfilling than physical pleasure. The domains of Hades made known to me the wonders of a woman's body, but Gaea's planet enlightened my path to hunting's rushes of excitement-- the satisfaction from which even Aphrodite's anatomy paled to.

And though in all my wanderings and chance voyages I have received countless recompense and prize-- the greatest of my exploits is not the fervent affair I once shared with the goddess of love. It was not the day I won the hand of Helen of Troy-- nor the approval of the fair princess Cassandra. It was --and surprisingly so-- the expression of pain and torment I educed from the Lord of the Dead when upon happenstance he would find Persephone writhing beneath me.

It was in the hard set of his lips and rigid composition of his lean form when his eyes would discover the tip of my nose caressing her neck-- the smooth, ivory legs of his very wife enveloped around my bare torso-- fervently pleading with me to end her pleasured agony.

That is true reward. To see the eldest of the gods-- the blessed, ripe fruit of the primordial Kronos, the firstborn of the mightiest wielders of power-- in internal, physical suffering because of my superior countenance and inexorable allure, that is gratification.

Perhaps that is why I dismissed not the irritating company of the russet haired goddess, and it is quite possibly the sole reason I prolonged the interaction for longer than was necessary-- I wished to regard his pained aspect as frequently as Fate would indulge me.

And indulge me they did...

For even Zeus --in all his glory and greatness-- granted me a portion of my time spent in the arms of Aidoneus' unrequited lover. It was not his touch she thirsted for, it was not his love for which she appealed to the highest throne-- rather it lay in the excitement which swelled in her undersized bosom, it percolated to regions below as the river Styx flows around the cursed kingdom, rupturing her sacred streams when her emerald eyes would rest upon my handsome figure.

Pitiless is not a fitting description for myself, yet I reluctantly admit that had I still been mortal, my impulsive rationale and impassioned copulations with his wife would have condemned me to the depths of Gaea's igneous core-- I would not have lived to embrace his wife had bedeviled crimson swam beneath my veins.

And I suppose in such manner so did the impassive nature of his character save me. Had the beauty of Hera enraptured my interest --which is not say it has not, yet I am not foolish to that extent-- Zeus' ill temper would have incinerated my likeness in front of the very gaze of all Olympus, as Ixion served a good lesson.

Seldom times I've reflected upon the risk of my ventures, and more often than not I find myself contemplating the various courses of a future which may have taken place had Aidoneus chosen to rival my investment in Persephone's threshold. Would he have sent me to the depths of his darkness-filled realm? Would he have delivered me into the heinously-gaping mouths of his famed hellhound? Or would the torrid profoundness of Tartarus become known to me?

In retrospect, I toyed with my very Fate in tempting his ire, but the deplorable god never enacted against me-- he simply increased his reclusiveness and sheltered himself in his study, laboring himself to exhaustion to distract his mind from the dilapidated state of his illegitimate marriage.

I took pride in that knowledge-- that it had been I whom breached through the linen of Spring's innocence, that his own potency was rendered useless in face of my golden looks. His union to the product of Demeter's fertility was not recognized in the eyes of Hera, for though it remained unknown to the inhabitants of those outside his realm-- their juncture was a farce, it was not a consummated espousal.

It was an obvious fact to me --and irritatingly so-- that Persephone did not crave his intimacy as she did mine. She knew not how to navigate the ways of coupling, she was far too inexperienced-- and it often times inspired my frustration and impatience. Her embrace would never compare to Aphrodite's, whom by her mere presence, aroused the dormant lust within me.

And I do not know whether or not to consider myself fortunate for being caught in a rivalry existing between two ravishing women, because while one pleased me in many ways, the second gave me immense satisfaction-- for her husband's jealousy fed the prideful hunter in me, nursing him into a blood-thirsty beast whom hungered for more and more mounds of creamy flesh-- to never be satiated until the heart of the dark king lay vulnerable upon his palm.

No adventure would match the usurping of the throne of ebony! What power could not be gifted to me if I occupied the seat of his authority? All deformity and malicious existence would belong to me-- all ugly truth would adorn the splendid crown atop my head!I would harbor the handsome countenance of Hades slave to my word, so that he may suffer at the foot of my sovereignty, and ensnare the lovely figures of Hera and Aphrodite so that they may worship the perfection of my specimen.

If my hunter's nature led me to victory at seizing his authority, would I not in some manner be oppressing the all-mighty Kronos as well? Aidoneus is, for all intents and purposes, the mature harvest of Time's seed-- the consecrated fruit of all his vigorous children-- his lusty firstborn.

Wealth would be mine to rule! Rubies, diamonds, sapphires, and invaluable gold --which are all as abundant in the Underworld as pebbles on the desert sand-- would belong to me! Now, would that not be a sight? The most handsome man in existence occupying the seat of power which reaped most reward, the man harboring hunting skill unmatched wielding Aidoneus' ancient potency. Truly, that would be an adventure unparalleled!

The sound of footsteps on the golden roads disrupt my ambitious thoughts, summoning my attention to the dark figure approaching a sudden, blinding explosion of light a mere few feet behind my mother's shade. The tall silhouette of the former strides with determined purpose, coming to an abrupt halt as the ball of incandescence dims into the figure of Apollo's golden handsomeness.

The man cloaked in darkness coalesces a bubble of intense power-- I can detect the stench of Death's abilities as a velvet pouch appears on his extended palm, seemingly heavy with the weight of unknown payment.

"Greetings, employer of the light. The Underworld sends its warmest regards."

The voice of Death is steady --raspy-- and laced with an undertone of a thousand dying hisses. Its faint blow of air envelops the light, teasing the golden strands decorating Apollo's beautiful countenance-- twirling them softly as if Death wished to caress him, to lather him up in saccharine so he may be predisposed to whichever command dances atop his tongue.

A leering smile flirts with the corners of the sunny being's lips, stretching out into a grin promising carnal amusement.

"Hades is no place of warmth, Thanatos. But I am certain calefaction exists within its boundaries if one is inclined to intimate embrace. Would you not say so, taker of life?"

Death presses his lips together, growing perhaps more reserved. Flirtation among gods is not uncommon, our physical allure and perfection are difficult to resist-- and Apollo in particular, harbors no qualms about seeking out pleasure from members of his very gender. I myself have many a time succumbed to the flames of need with the likes of Ganymede, Poseidon, Dionysus, Eros, and even Hypnos-- Thanatos' twin brother.

Death himself -- however cruel he may be-- is not an unseemly man. His voice is chilling as the breeze carries it to my ears.

"Indeed, and so is the fondle of torture of sweltering nature."

It is Apollo's turn to grow quiet, having not expected his cold reply. It is not until he is handed the velvet pouch carrying recompense-- diamonds and various other precious stones, probably-- that he speaks up.

"You summoned me?" he asks, undoing the laces maintaining the pouch from spilling its contents. Angling it downwards, he spills at least sixteen ounces of treasured jewels-- gold rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and the occasional shimmering precious stone, sapphires and rubies and diamonds-- atop his palm.

He lifts a brow, unable to look away from the small treasure.

"Veritably, your presence as healer is requested in the Underworld. Lord Hades issues substantial bounty for the curing of a child beneath his custody, and I am compelled to inform you that if you so wish for higher compensation, it shall not be denied from you."

Apollo jostles the jewels in his hand, scrutinizing their considerable value, highly likely pondering over his options. Finally, after what seems like hours of suffocating silence, he answers.

"Will his lover be present?"

The corners of Thanatos' mouth dip in mild vexation, preventing him from uttering a suitable reply. Apollo grins at his silence, placing a firm hand atop his sturdy shoulder.

"Oh come now, Thanatos. Surely you know I say so in jest, your master is not here to hinder your honest agreement. You know as well as I do that Samantha is a creature of monumental comeliness, even you can not say it is not so."

"With the respect of a loyal subject to the throne of ebony-- I reluctantly agree. The queen is a woman of great beauty. Now, tell me your answer, Apollo. The child suffers increasingly as we speak."

Both men grow quiet, and the one belonging to the light nods slightly.

"Very well, I will accompany you to the depths of Hades, but I request further compensation."

Thanatos nods tersely, fulfilling the message his lord sent him to deliver.

"Name your price, son of the light. My master denies you nothing."

Apollo gestures for his companion to create a teleportation vessel, following him closely behind as the latter does as asked.

"A golden bow and arrow enchanted by Hecate for Artemis is all I request."

Death replies affirmatively, closing the portal behind them, darkness consuming their figures as they walk further into its welcoming embrace. The silence which follows their departure prompts my ambitious mind, leading me to wonder whom the maiden with fairness in abundance is, and what she is doing entangling herself with the terrible Hades.

If Apollo -- whose standards of seemliness are incredibly steep -- decides the woman is of enjoyable countenance, why would such loveliness be wasted on a man whose favored leisure is the constant passage of time? Why would unsurpassed beauty be spent on he whom controls the waves of aimless and meaningless souls?

He must have taken her against her will-- corrupted the sanity of her pristine mind for his own twisted purposes! She is in need of saving-- she requires the assistance of a man my stature, someone whom she can place her trust upon! And if her existence in the shadowed palace persists, why would it be so? What business does the abhorrent Lord of the Dead have with such woman?

Has Hades finally rid himself of Demeter's insufferable child? Has his patience -- as my own has -- drained considerably while concerning the russet-haired brat? And if it has, how has he chanced upon a woman such as Apollo regards highly?

I bring the apple to my lips, stealing from it another fraction of its succulent fountain, a reminder of the taste of Aphrodite's release-- the fruit of one of our many nights of adoration. If I am to venture away once more, I must be assured I will return to Olympus with the hand of Hades' infatuate-- a woman whose beauty will be added to the long list of names of my past paramours-- and will surely further strengthen my name as a lover and hunter. Taking a third bite of the fruit, I come to a decision.

Come early morrow, I will set out to rescue the fair Samantha.