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Past and Present Love collide
Category: Uncategorized
The moments are few and far between when a Goddess feels small. Fragile. Mortal. Perhaps only once or twice every few centuries. Minx has only felt small once and it was centuries ago, when she was young. A newborn by God standards. Posing as a Trojan Priestess to the Gods. She'd watched Achilles in battle before and surrendered to the need to know the man beneath the armor. She had thought as a priestess, some reverence might be shown to spare her from man's cruelty. She had been so wrong. Their masculine disdain made them monstrous. Everything her father warned her they would be. But she had chosen this path and she intended to see it through. How else was a Goddess of Love to learn and understand the trials and power of it, if she never experienced it herself? That had been her youthful thought process. She faced the humiliation. Wept at the degradation. But then he came. Her Warlord. Her king. His gentle words soothed the wounds of her soul. Strong hands bathed the wounds of her body with equal tenderness. Achilles taught the little goddess how to be both strong and gentle. Fierce yet tender. How to show the world what it needed to see and how to lower that facade in private. What Minx knew of love, she learned from the mightiest of Heroes.
And now, lifetimes later, she was there again. Small. Weak. The life force leaking from her eternal veins. Goddesses could not die but even they could weaken. And if an enemy were determined and smart enough, keep them enslaved. That was how many Gods had fallen and been forgotten through the Ages. Captured, hidden, broken by cruelty and abandoned over time in their prisons. Perhaps that was why humanity was so fucked now. Because of those Fallen and Broken Gods. Minx believed she may yet find herself among them one day.
Her world had become distant when her body collapsed into the blood pool beneath her. No sensation penetrated the darkness she now found herself in. Not the burning of her wounds or the trickle of life from her veins. No sparks of light. Nothing but memories now as her blood soaked body laid cold and still. What little power she had left turned inward, finding broken vessels and arteries to stop the last drops from leaving her veins. She did not feel the strain of her heart or the slowing of breath in her lungs.
There was nothing but the dream built inside her head. The solace of arms around her. Strong, hard muscles that did not make her feel fear but rather safety. Warmth that chased away the cold like the heat from a fire. That rich scent of his skin that rose over the coppery smell of blood. She felt small but fearless. Because she knew that she was safe. Protected. No harm would come to her in these moments. That's what whispered to her soul. But when her charcoal gaze found that strong face, it wasn't her golden Warlord she saw. These eyes were bluer than the sky on a spring day. Clearer than the purest blue sea. There was softness to them that Achilles never had due to his lifetime of War. His hair was shorter. His face statuesque.
In her minds eye, in this moment, the love of her Past and the flame of her present seemed to blend into one. Perhaps the DJ was more than a Fable. Maybe he was a gift from the Gods put in her path, as she once put herself into Achilles path. The emotions she felt with Charming reminded the Goddess of what she felt so long ago beside the Myrmidon. Emotions and things she never thought she would truly feel for anyone else again. Like a shooting star, she thought it come to pass. Yet in her mind, the two became one. Memories of Charmings arms melding with Achilles to give her that same sensation of being safe and loved. Cherished as if she were infinitely precious.
She was too tired and worn to think clearly. Minx knew she was as safe now as she had been the moment Achilles put his arms around her. She could let go and drown in the darkness as long as she needed. She could surrender herself completely to the darkness and know that when she woke, she'd be somewhere warm and safe. Not a prison. Not a cage. Why? Because through the chaos and the horror, love had found a way. Love curled around her like a shield and cradled her as surely as the arms she dreamt held her. The name was like a whispered prayer from her torn and bloody mouth, as the last bit of power left her, softer than any whisper of a lover before she let go completely and let the Gods Healing Sleep take hold.
"Charming....
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