The Consort

Alone

The lone house on top of the hill was my sanctuary, and my prison. I lived there for all of my life, my mother coming and going as she pleased, with my Father dropping in when I was sixteen, fumbling drunkenly around the house and telling me I had blossomed into a beautiful young woman. My mother was planting new roses, their stems instantly shooting forth, flowering colours even I had never seen before. 

“Did you enjoy your morning out in the cornfields?” Demeters voice was pleasant to listen to, it was earthy and vibrant, full of life and longevity. I smiled, wondering if she could feel the tingling in my body and the need aching through my bones. 

“Yes mother.”

She smiled, offering me the seat in front of her as she prepared lunch. I slid into the chair easily, wriggling only slightly as my thoughts wandered more than once to the man I had left in the corn maze.

”My daughter, I know that your upbringing here has been far less conventional, but as your eighteenth year has recently passed I am curious if you would enjoy spending more time with your Father.” Even just the mention of him set the sky rumbling, my mother’s eyes darted upwards immediately, before settling on me. 

“No Mother. I am far happier here, with you.” And the God in the Cornrows. The thought crossed my mind unbidden, a smile easing its way across my features/ While the seclusion had not been easy as a child, more and more often I had been receiving visitors, and I would prefer to spend my mornings in the cornrows being distracted by the God of Music and poetry. Surely such a thing would be frowned upon on the Mountain.

 Mothers smile was ecstatic as I eased my way towards the stairs, ensuring that she was distracted by her flowers before I bolted, quickly closing my bedroom door. 

Sweat beaded down my chest as I eased the dress off, sliding onto my bed staring down at my body. My curves were subtle, yet well formed, curving inwards just below my ribs before splaying at out my hips. The need was still heavy in my stomach and I allowed my fingers to brush against my breasts the way the God had done. Tingles shot through my spine to the very tips of my toes, igniting a fire deep inside. Ever so gently my hand wound its way down further touching the forbidden wetness there. I gasped as my fingers came into contact with the small, sensitive bud, shivers of pleasure making me gyrate my hips as my fingers flickered back and forth steadily. Unable to bear the stimulation my other hand left my tender and sensitive breasts to dip into the wet and inviting hole. 

Groaning deeply, my fingers worked back and forth, the others thrusting in and out. I whimpered, my breath coming fast as the rhythm of my fingers intensified. I closed my eyes, imagining Apollo’s strong hands working my body the same way I was now and shuddered, my head lifting from the pillow. 

“Oh Gods.” I murmured, thrusting wildly until my body seized and contracted, a warm liquid spilling over my fingers. 

As breath returned to my body I rolled over, lighting the candle by my bedside. Mother always insisted we light a candle at least once a day to give the other Gods thanks for their influence on the life of the mortals we helped live and thrive. My room shifted and changed with the glow of the candle, revealing a childhood bedroom transformed anew with recent adulthood. 

“Daughter? Come down here please.” My mother’s voice strained up the stairs, her tone clipped and uneasy. I gathered my dress, slipping it over my curves and replacing the sleeves onto my shoulders. I smothered my hair down, twisting it into a braid before creeping downstairs, back into the kitchen.

Standing inside, at the same spot she had been a mere twenty minutes ago my mother focused on growing a new species of flower, a mix between a daffodil and sunflower it seemed. Sitting across from her, at the head of the dining table, sat my father. He was still young, looking barely ten years my elder, though the gruff looking white beard made him look weathered and old. He stood, his presence overwhelming the small space.

“I would speak with you alone Daughter.” With a turn, and an expectation that I would follow wordlessly, my Father exited the house via the backdoor, finding himself standing in my private garden, full to the brim with exotic orchids and fluorescent flowers which glowed during the night. Zeus crossed his arms warily, his thoughts elsewhere for a moment before returning to me. 

“You have recently had celebrated your eighteenth year correct?” The line of questioning confused me, though it did not surprise me that he would not remember. I was just one in a long line of children he had to worry about. 

“Yes father.” I answered politely, keeping my voice light and my eyes cast downward as was appropriate for a lady. He made a noise, his fingers stroking his beard thoughtfully. 

“I believe it is time to introduce you to the Olympians. Your mother would rather your beauty go to waste on a mortal husband who will die, but, I intend to find you a man who will live by your side for all eternity, as I have done for my wife.” I had to hold back the laugh - my father was infamous for his affairs and lovers. 

“But Father…” I tried to interrupt, but the God of the Skies had already decided upon the right course of action. He snapped his fingers, a boom of thunder echoing in the distance. 

“Ready yourself Daughter, for on the morrow you will come to Mount Olympus.” With a nod and a gentle smile he disappeared in a cloud of air. Leaving my staring agape at the space he had just occupied.