Chapter Text
Come on angel,
Come on, come on, darling
Let's exchange the experience
Aphrodite was having an off month it seemed.
The thing is, Aphrodite was unattainable. Just beyond the reach of most, and even those who grasped her didn’t hold her for long. She was a beacon in dark times, she was the embodiment of the force that guided creation. She was love and with love came infinite beauty. With infinite beauty, men and women fell at her feet, gods would turn to war and the world wanted so desperately to please her every desire. Aphrodite caused mortals and gods alike to become smitten. Aphrodite didn’t get smitten.
But here she was, dumbly standing in smalltown New York, frozen on her feet as she watched a young woman in black grieve alone. Which sounds horrendous, of course, but that wasn’t necessarily her intention. There was a mortal on earth whose love was so abundant, that Aphrodite could feel them sacrifice their own happiness for that very reason. So she was merely investigating, curious as to why she felt this woman above so many others.
When Aphrodite was born, the tide shied away to give her land to walk upon. The wind spirits rushed to meet her, billowing her hair in their gentle breezes. The flora sprouted where she stepped, desperate and eager to bare witness to the newborn goddess. When Sally Jackson was born, it seemed that all-natural elements on earth conspired against her. The wind spirits ripped her parent’s plane down from the sky. The flora her uncle smoked in youth gave him incurable illness to which he recently succumbed to.
The world gave itself to Aphrodite and her beauty- yet here was someone who held as much beauty as she did and the world had shunned her. So Aphrodite decided to halt this in it’s tracks. A mortal who understood Love as much as Sally Jackson deserved the universe. The Goddess now understood what it must have been to be one of her fellow Olympians. The speed that they fell in love with mortal men and women- outrageous!
Now, if only her damned palms would stop sweating. Gods, how should she even start? She had been staring at Sally Jackson for almost five minutes now. Any second now she might turn and wonder-
“Excuse me?”
Gods help her.
“Um…could I help you?” Sally Jackson asked, wiping her eyes, keeping her distance but looking at Aphrodite in…concern? Di immortales, she was sobbing at a funeral alone and she was seeking to help her?
Get it together, Aph, she thought to herself, you’re the love goddess for god's sake.
“I…” her voice cracked and gods she wanted to throw herself into the depths of the Fields of Punishment, crawl into Tartarus herself that was so embarrassing, “I just wanted to offer my condolences. If that’s alright with you, of course.”
Sally’s concern lingered and it didn’t take long for Aphrodite to realize the concern was not directed at Aphrodite’s wellbeing, but rather her own. Sally could see her. The Mist did not exist to her. Aphrodite’s presence would always be masked by The Mist and the different ways mortals perceived beauty. In this moment, however, Sally Jackson was watching Aphrodite’s hair turn from golden to red to black, her kaleidoscopic eyes change when she blinked, her outfits transition from ornate gowns to far more revealing party clothes. Sally Jackson hadn’t decided on the most attractive form for Aphrodite to take. The Love Goddess vowed to fix that soon.
For a brief moment, Aphrodite worried that she was hitting on one of her fellow Olympian’s children. Her godly instincts told her no, however, warned her that this woman could simply see through the Mist and thus any lie Aphrodite could possibly tell pertaining to her own identity.
“Are you an angel?” Sally whispered.
It was such an innocent, naive question that Aphrodite’s heart began to race, her divine brain began to fog over, and all she could focus on was the way that the sunlight was reflecting off of Sally’s hair. Yes, she wanted to agree, she was an angel. And it seemed her brain decided to vocalize this.
“Yours. Your angel,” Aphrodite promised, the words falling from her mouth before she could stop herself. Sally’s face went from concern to disapproval. Then something much more stern, akin to offense.
Aphrodite realized what she had just done. In the most inopportune, heinous time or place to make a pass at a potential lover, she had just…made a pass at a potential lover. Her face, likely in all possible versions Sally could have possibly bore witness to, erupted in a blush so fierce she thought steam might pour out of her ears.
“Did…did you just, hit on me? At a funeral?”
“I. Um. J-Just.”
Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid- BAIL. BAIL OUT NOW.
“Uh, sorry. T-Take this, please, yup. Thank you.”
Aphrodite pressed a card into Sally’s hand and escaped back to Olympus in a swath of doves. In her temple, she threw herself onto her bed and muffled a shout into her pillow.
—
Okay, so that was bad. Definitely not her finest work. If she was going to give Sally Jackson the universe, she had probably better learn the appropriate time to flirt. So, she’d make it up to her! Sally had recently moved into an apartment on her own near the upper east side. It wasn’t creepy that she asked Iris to show her where she lived. She just needed the address, that was all.
Then came the gift-giving. You may wonder, “but shouldn’t Aphrodite have had an actual conversation with her before scouring the globe for jewelry, delicacies, and clothes?” You would be correct, of course, but something about the way Sally Jackson wore her hair when she was at work was doing something to Aphrodite’s divine brain that prevented it from functioning on the near-omnipotent level that it could.
The card Aphrodite had handed Sally contained a number directly to her temple if Sally was so interested. Through…divine vision…Aphrodite discovered that Sally Jackson did not own a landline or any sort of phone. Her schedule was so tightly packed between work and tending to her own home that she never did call Aphrodite. To remind her that she still existed and amend her mistake, Aphrodite began sending gifts as though it were Christmas.
The latest Versace handbag, a make-up kit that always replaced itself and never ran out, a necklace forged by Hephaestus himself (she told him it was for her- the big oaf), outfits that the Charites designed for Sally personally, shoes that were in-line with her Waitressing job’s dress code but provided perfect support to prevent feet-ache and back problems- and Aphrodite was just about to consider sending a necklace that would defend from rain or other sudden splashes of water when an upset Hermes arrived at her door.
Aphrodite, adorned like a southern belle, turned to face him as he entered her temple, dressed as though he had interrupted his work day to come and speak to her. Aphrodite found his khaki uniform unflattering to say the least.
“Good day to you, Hermes,” she smiled, holding still with her necklace in hand, prepared to pack it away in a heart-shaped box. Hermes did not look impressed.
“Twenty packages in a week, Aphrodite?” Hermes asked, before noting her current project. He sighed, “Twenty-one, then, all to the same mortal.”
She was sheepish, despite herself. What did she have to be sheepish over?
“Mind your business, Hermes!” she snapped, uncharacteristically angered by his impudence, “What I send and why is for me and me alone.”
“Okay, but, Aph,” Hermes broke, diplomatically, “She can see my Caduceus. I’m pretty sure she can hear George and Martha too.”
Hello, dear Lady Aphrodite, Martha’s, one of the two snakes adorning Hermes’ symbol of power, voice breached in her head, It is good to see you again.
You wouldn’t happen to have rats on you, would you? George, her counterpart, requested, I am very hungry.
“Why…don’t you just go talk to her?” Hermes asked, leaning against the doorframe to her spacious bedroom, “ Di immortales , Aph, this is getting ridiculous. It’s not like you.”
Aphrodite remembered the fiasco that was meeting Sally Jackson, and groaned. She discarded the necklace and flung herself to her bed. Burying her face in her pillows was something she found herself doing quite a lot these days. Her groan was loud enough, regardless to make Hermes cover his snake’s ears.
“Holy Us, Aph, what is your problem?!”
She admitted to her mistake but her voice was muffled into her pillow, and Hermes stepped closer, settling down on her bedside and tentatively raising a comforting hand but upon thinking twice he set it down.
“Come again? Didn’t hear you-”
“I HIT ON HER AT A FUNERAL!” Aphrodite cried, raising her head out of her pillow.
Dead silence reigned in her temple before the snakes broke the silence.
That is…an odd choice of location to try to woo a lover, my dear, Martha stated.
Yes. I think you can make it up, however, by offering me a rat, George started, only for the Messenger of the Gods to nearly fall off of her bed, bellowing out laughter so loud that she was certain all of Olympus would rush to investigate what was so gods-damned funny.
“So you’re sending her all this because you messed up?!” he cackled, the dramatic irony dawning on him, “T-The Goddess of Love…f-forgot how to fli-” he descended into another fit of mad laughter. Aphrodite turned his clothes into a swarm of bees and threw him out of her temple.
—
Hermes wasn’t the messenger of the gods for nothing. Word spread fast throughout Olympus that Aphrodite was at a complete loss for how to seduce a mortal. She was sure that even Dionysus, trapped in that Camp, had heard and informed her demigod children. What sort of role model was she supposed to be if she couldn’t get a proper word out when flirting?! What love goddess mother couldn’t set a proper example for how to steal a heart?
Athena had made it clear that she would never let her live it down. Artemis concurred and attempted to make some sort of point about the dangers of romance to her. Apollo attempted a limerick in Sally Jackson’s honor. Even Hera, that harpy, approached her one morning, and while Aphrodite anticipated a lecture on cheating on Hephaestus- the same one she had listened to for thousands of years- Hera had simply been shocked.
“Even I’m embarrassed for you.”
That was the last straw.
Fed up with the bastard Olympians, Aphrodite awoke one morning with the fires of love burning deep in her heart. Sally Jackson would be hers and hers alone. It was time to stop hiding behind gifts. She was going to talk to a woman .
Sally Jackson would be working early that morning until late that afternoon. Loath as she was to eat mortal fast food, Aphrodite resigned herself to brave the land that was a New York Denny’s in order to get Sally Jackson’s number. It was late afternoon. Aphrodite dressed like a woman disguised- scarf over her head, massive Ray-Bans obscuring her eyes and a trenchcoat to hide her figure. In summer. Uncomfortable? Yes. Necessary? Also yes.
Here’s the problem with nervous gods. Sometimes their powers get a little wonky if they’re not paying attention. How was Aphrodite supposed to pay attention when Sally was wearing her brunette hair in a messy bun that really highlighted her face and neck and eyes and lips and nose and-?!
“Table- by myself, uh please?” Aphrodite managed to say, her voice dripping with Charmspeak.
All conversations went silent. All patrons and staff sat up straight, set their silverware down, and rose from their seats. Forming a single file line, they all marched out the door and onto the sidewalk, continuing on to who knows where. Sally was the only one who stayed behind, standing behind the counter, hands still halfway through tying her hair up. She watched the scene with confusion and almost fear before her eyes locked onto Aphrodite.
Her disguise didn’t fool her, and she was sort of glad it didn’t. Instead of fear, Sally’s face took on a sort of disappointment? Sally let her hands down and put a hand on her hip and oh my gods how does her abject unimpressment with Aphrodite somehow come off as incredibly hot-
“So. You’re the one sending me all those packages, right?”
Aphrodite tried for a dazzling smile. She was pretty sure it looked incredibly nervous.
“S-Surprise?”
No dice, Sally did not seem moved.
“And you’re the one who hit on me…at a rather inappropriate time, then turned into doves, and disappeared.”
Aphrodite pulled her sunglasses off and managed a shrug.
“I… Yes, that was- that was me,” she admitted.
Sally took her hand off her hip and sighed, then gestured to the counter in front of her, signalling Aphrodite to take a seat. She wasn’t kicking her out! She could still salvage this! Aphrodite sashayed into the seat across from Sally, maybe a little too eagerly, and tried to look much more mature than she felt. Get a grip, Aphrodite, she reminded herself. You’re here to woo the lady, not beg for attention.
“So…can I get you anything, angel?” Sally teased, clearly intrigued but a little awkward as well. Did her eyes just change color in the fluorescent light? Oh gods they totally did. Those shades of blue made the Aegean Sea look like tar.
“Hello?”
Oh lord, Sally asked a question. Aphrodite shook her head, coughing briefly, before murmuring, “Coffee, please.”
Awkward silence. Horrible horrible silence as Sally poured a steaming cup and passed it to Aphrodite, complete with creamer packs and a sugar dish.
“T-Thank you,” Aphrodite coughed. She pointed at the cup and it brewed itself to her exact liking. Sally raised her eyebrow. Aphrodite toasted to nothing in particular, cursed herself, then sipped. More silence.
“You look,” Aphrodite muttered, “Um, very nice today. Very pretty.”
“Thank you,” Sally said, leaning back on the other side of the counter. More silence. Aphrodite met Sally’s eyes after another sip. Sally was staring, eyebrow still raised, and Aphrodite realized she had been waiting for an explanation.
“Oh! Right, um, so…I’m very sorry about what I said-“ Aphrodite forced out. The stool she was sitting on made Sally seem to leer down at her from where she stood, and Aphrodite’s heart fluttered, “It was…inappropriate. I don’t mean to sound disingenuous, it’s just…you’re the first woman who’s made me feel this way in, quite some time. Could we start over?”
Something in Sally’s gaze seemed to soften and she nodded. Her lips curled down as she took on a sort of apologetic look.
“I apologize as well,” Sally spoke, and Aphrodite thought her immortal heart would fail her, “It was rude of me to chase you off without letting you explain. It…hasn’t been a very good few weeks.”
Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes-
“A-All is forgiven! No need to apologize, dear, I was truly out of line…”
“Right,” Sally agreed. She poured herself a cup of coffee and swung around the counter and was now sitting next to her yes this was good yes yes-
“So, the mailman had a staff with snakes on it…” Sally spoke, tone one of disbelief.
“Oh, yes,” Aphrodite coughed, “Um. So you can see my true nature…there's no point in lying to you, then.”
Sally broke her focus with one question, “You’re Aphrodite, right?”
Aphrodite choked on her coffee, unceremoniously spilling it and probably looking like a complete fool. But she made Sally Jackson laugh so it was totally worth it. That laugh was like the first dawn of a new year, full of the promise of something more. Aphrodite would gladly choke on sewer water if it meant Sally Jackson would laugh- not that a woman of her caliber would even ask her to do such things. Her face redder than Dionysus at his drunkest, she squeaked,
“How did you guess?”
Sally handed Aphrodite some napkins from her apron and smiled a tired but relieved sort of smile that might have said she was beginning to find Aphrodite’s utter failures endearing.
“Well…you turned into doves. Doves are your animal, if I remember right…” Sally tapped her chin, “Oh yeah, and, Hermes the Messenger God was pretending to be the Fed-Ex man. His snakes told me.”
Curses!
“Surprise…?” Aphrodite coughed, “We’re all real…!”
“That’s what had me confused…so if you’d be so kind, maybe walk me through this?” Sally asked, and Aphrodite realized just how shocking it must be to be a fully grown mortal woman and suddenly discover your entire life was a lie. All civilization was built upon forces that were so much greater than you and out of your control, and there was nothing you could do about that.
“Right, well, what is it you wish to know first, dear?” Aphrodite asked, “This all must be rather shocking. I would hate to overwhelm you.”
“How is it that I’m the only one who can see the things I see?” she asked, “I…truthfully, I wondered if I was insane.”
“Far from it, Sally. Perish the thought- you’re in fact more sound of mind than any mortal on earth. There is…a veil, we call it The Mist. It clouds the minds of most mortals and hides our various dealings and events. Were it not there- who knows what sort of chaos and anarchy it would wring.”
“Okay, that…makes sense,” Sally sighed, “I suppose. Sorry, but I’m going to need to hear a lot more…”
Aphrodite patted Sally’s hand while smiling as kind as she possibly could, “Take all the time you need, dear.”
So over coffee, Aphrodite explained the history of Western Civilization and Greek Myth, the world of Gods and Demigods and their roles within. Sally was an amazing listener. Any who wandered into the establishment found themselves turned away by a quick word from Aphrodite. Slowly, Aphrodite worked up the confidence to not stutter over her words or blunder quite as hard as she had been.
Then Sally asked her next question and tore that confidence down.
“So…what does the Goddess of Love want from me?” Sally finally asked. Aphrodite’s throat felt like the Sahara.
“I…well, I thought I was quite forward…”
More unbearable silence. Sally looked unreadable, deep in thought or confusion. In the old days, mortals would pray to her, asking for her assistance and begging for romance. So who in Hades would the Goddess of Love pray to? Sally looked her in the eyes, for a moment, then turned away, sheepish.
“I suppose I’m just…confused,” Sally admitted.
“About what?”
“I-I’m, just…Sally Jackson. I work in a diner, I’m a high school dropout…I don’t have anything to offer.”
Oh this sweet humble woman. Aphrodite couldn’t help but reach out and take one of her hands, and Sally Jackson turned red to the roots of her hair. To Sally Jackson, Aphrodite now appeared with jet black hair, green eyes, and a kind face.
“Sally…I’m not here to take anything from you. When I looked at you, I saw…the first mortal woman in history who matched my understanding of Love, who made me feel how most feel about me. I’m here because I wish to give you what you deserve.”
Sally’s response was a whisper.
“And what…do I deserve?”
“The universe.”
—
Theirs was a romance that was a pure whirlwind of emotions and tonal shifts. Even if it started rather slowly, as Aphrodite did her best to properly court the newly enlightened mortal. Aphrodite insisted on pampering her latest lover, while Sally was out of depth receiving such affections. Truthfully, Aphrodite herself may have gone a little overboard at times. She was not very used to lusting after mortals, after all.
Trips to Paris, ornate gifts, expensive dinners, and, usually instigated by Sally, plenty of PDA. Aphrodite was taller than Sally by a full head, giving her the lovely experience of pressing kisses on her forehead, catching her off guard with hands-on her shoulder or burying Sally’s head in her neck.
Sally was not used to such spoiling however and often insisted on spoiling the goddess back. Often would Aphrodite arrive at her mortal lover’s home to find fresh cookies, or dinner already prepared. Candied sweets were quickly purchased on her ride home from work.
There was something so beautiful in the mundane activities Sally Jackson found herself subjected to. Despite deserving to rule the planet, to have any and all mortals and gods fall at her feet and weep to serve her, the two would often find themselves in Sally’s residence, late in the night, resting upon one another and watching late-night television. Aphrodite would come to know all of Sally’s life and what she wished for her future.
Sally wanted to write books, and concoct stories of fiction that would enrapture mortal minds. Indeed, Aphrodite was sure she would be capable of doing so. She offered to send her to college right then and there, or finish her high school and get a diploma at least- but this revealed another facet of the lovely Sally.
“If I’m going to become a writer, finish college…I want to do that myself, you know?”
Aphrodite huffed, “Yes but…you just deserve it now, for all you’ve gone through. You’re a queen among women.”
“Hmm, yes, you’ve mentioned this…several times now,” Sally teased.
“Yes, but you love it.”
“Well…maybe a little bit,” Sally agreed. They found themselves too busy after that to say anything else.
_____
Such a love should have lasted until each and every last star fell from the sky. By no means should it have come to an end a mere six months after it began. Yet here Aphrodite was, ignoring the winter solstice as she reapplied her make-up and wondering how she was going to spend Christmas with Sally. What tipped her off to something being wrong was how fiercely everyone was staring at her. Stares were very common- but these looks were one of exasperation.
“Oh my,” Aphrodite smiled, “Lost in thought, I suppose. What are we discussing?”
Zeus sighed, leaning forward on his throne, “And this is exactly what I mean.”
“She’s truly smitten,” Demeter commented, “It’s…surprising.”
Ares let out a grunt, signaling some sort of displeasure. Artemis flashed her a smug smile. Apollo gave her two thumbs up. What in Hades were these fools blathering on about?
“I asked a question.” Aphrodite pressed, frowning. It was Zeus who replied first.
“You have been shirking your duties, Aphrodite. We have been patient…you’ve spent six months with this woman. Any longer, such a thing becomes dangerous.”
Aphrodite, much like her brethren…had a bit of a temper. Any implication of leaving her current obsess- lover- was out of the question. Her voice dripped with venom.
“How I spend my time with her is my business. I have said nothing concerning any of your relationships,” Aphrodite stood, glancing around the room at each and every one of her non-virginally inclined Olympians. Them forbid she inform Hera that Zeus had fallen for another mortal, “and I won’t have you criticizing any of mine.”
Her eyes went to Zeus first. His stormy blues widened, just the smallest amount. It was all the signal Aphrodite needed to have the satisfaction of having him pinned. Athena, of course, noticed this exchange. Aphrodite could practically hear the gears turning in her head. Aphrodite slumped back onto her throne.
“If only you’d show such devotion to your actual husband,” Hera quipped. Every year with this, Aphrodite thought to herself as she turned her eyes to the ceiling. Hephaestus, surprisingly, was faster to discrediting Hera than she was.
“Buzz off, mother,” Hephaestus groaned, “you don’t care about our marriage.”
It was times like these that Aphrodite recalled not feeling so bad for her arranged marriage to Hephaestus. He was certainly smarter than he appeared, not to mention gentle. And he despised Hera almost as much as she did. Certainly not the worst brute to be shackled to- not that Aphrodite let that stop her.
“Shots fired,” Apollo laughed, simulating the motion of firing a bow, “get it, little sis?”
Artemis rolled her eyes.
“Enough.” Zeus cut in, silencing the room, “Aphrodite. I’ll allow this…fornication… for a week longer. No more.”
He may as well have thrown her heart into the maw of Cerberus. Her fists clenched.
“Bastard!” Aphrodite snapped, “I’ll ensure your future conquests end in failure- and your sham of a marriage remain loveless.”
The room went cold. Zeus’ eyes narrowed and Hera went aghast at the outrage. Apollo was stifling a laugh, as was Hermes. Hades and Poseidon shared a rare look of bemusement between them. Dionysus, fresh off of his probation in Camp Half-Blood and eager to see his wife again, checked the time.
“Father is right,” Athena cut in, “Enough of this. Before we adjourn, I wish to speak of The Prophecy.”
Audible groans. The tone shifted quite suddenly, from cold fury to exasperation, though Hera was still furious. Zeus turned his eyes back to Athena, and waved a hand signaling for her to get on with it.
“Why the Prophecy, uh, sis?” Hermes asked, “Unless Uncle P, Uncle H or Pop has any spare kids lying around, it shouldn’t be anytime soon, right?”
Athena stood. Aphrodite scoffed, preparing herself for the bread and circus that was an Athena lecture.
“Notable events have been occurring in recent times, events that lead me to believe that conflict may be on the horizon. Hermes…you of course, recall the incident concerning May Castellan?”
Hermes' face darkened and his tone became ice, “Watch your tongue, Pallas. Keep her name out of your mouth.”
Aphrodite, though still reeling from the revelation that she had to abandon Sally, felt her heart go out to Hermes. They all knew the story. May Castellan, blessed with clear sight and prophecy, attempted to take on the spirit of Delphi in herself. For whatever reason, the Oracle had been quite finicky in recent times and had not taken a new host in over forty years. It drove May insane when she attempted, and it was said she spouted prophecies ad infinitum, no longer capable of discerning reality.
It was a sore point for Hermes, certainly. It was only four years ago, a blink of an eye to a god. Aphrodite didn’t know why Athena would bring up such a thing.
“No disrespect, Hermes,” Athena quickly mentioned, “but I've heard her voice. Insane or not, her sight is clear. She speaks of events in your son’s lifetime.”
“...get to the point, Pallas,” Hermes snapped, looking away to check his Caduceus, now in the form of a notepad. Athena noted the assembled Olympians.
“Her words align with events that may become the subject of The Great Prophecy. So I pondered their words myself. I trust you all recall the lines?”
“The point, daughter,” Zeus cut in, “we recall the words. Please get to the point.”
Athena tisked and on her fingers, she referred to the eldest among them. Hestia, who quietly tended the flame, Hera, Demeter, Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus.
“A Half-Blood of The Eldest Gods, the prophecy says. Long have we taken this to refer to you, father, Uncle Hades, and…Poseidon.”
A rumble of amusement, as it seemed Poseidon didn’t take that backhanded comment lightly.
“Consider, however…Father, you are the youngest of your siblings, and my uncles still, younger than Hera, Demeter and Hestia,” Athena noted, “Can we be certain this prophecy would refer to you three?”
Oddly enough, this seemed to garner attention from around the room, though no one spoke. Eyes went to Poseidon, Hades, and Zeus. The brothers looked between one another for a moment, before Zeus leaned forth in his seat.
“Are you implying that Hestia, Hera, or Demeter could be the subject of this prophecy? If you recall, your Aunt Hestia and your stepmother do not sire demigod children.”
“Leave my kids out of this!” Demeter snapped, “I’m not letting them in on this tomfoolery!”
“I’m merely pointing out the vagueness in the terminology. By all means, you three, no disrespect intended, are not the eldest of your generation. That title is provided to your sisters. Not to mention…”
Aphrodite watched Athena turn to her.
“Aphrodite is older than us all. She arrived from the moment my grandfather betrayed The Sky, since before the birth of Aunt Hestia.”
Aphrodite scowled.
“You’re saying one of my babies has to deal with this drab little prediction?”
“I am merely pointing out this interpretation. Take this counsel as you will.”
So, any of her children, upon the age of sixteen, could go forth and make a decision to preserve or eradicate the institution of Olympus. To this end, so too could this apply to Demeter. Aphrodite took this in odd stride, all things considered. She took a sly look at Zeus, who was doing all he could to keep the subject off of his latest love interest. Aphrodite could see it now, the pregnancy. The first child of Zeus since nineteen forty-five, and the life they would live with all demigods and monsters knowing them as a child of prophecy.
Aphrodite was serious about her curse. Beryl Grace, Zeus’ lover, would meet the most toxic and selfish of the love in her domain. It would end in tragedy, not only for Zeus but certainly for whatever spawn he conceived with her. Zeus would make certain his child rose to prominence. It was always the children of Zeus. So rare was it her children that found fame or fortune.
It was idiotic, how often they thought they could just tie Aphrodite down when she was the greatest of all Olympians.
It was love that guided Chaos to create the Earth.
It was love that guided Mother Gaea to shape Ouranos, love that brought the Titans, and love that brought the Olympians.
Love was the tree from which every facet of their pantheon fell from.
Something clicked in her, then.
The irony of a perfect storm to strike Zeus where it hurt.
She sent a dazzling, malevolent smile to Athena.
Athena almost looked scared, then.
They all had good reason to even if they didn’t know it just yet.
___
Though she was enflamed by her desire to strike back at those stuffy Olympians- the instant the Solstice ended she was hit once more with the realization that she had under seven days to spend with the greatest mortal she had met in centuries. To that end, all she had were tears. Regardless of the time, she awoke Sally from her slumber early that Christmas morning and fell against her love.
Pathetic. She’d promised Sally the universe, now she could barely provide a week.
“Aphrodite,” Sally gasped, “What’s wrong?”
Entwined in one another on Sally’s couch, Aphrodite sobbed the events of the Winter Solstice to her. Aphrodite was an ugly crier, with three different boxes of tissues being ran through at even the most pettiest of tears. Perfect as she was, Sally, comforted her through it, though did not take the news well. They were both in tears, both simultaneously attempting to draw strength from one another and be the strong one at the same time.
“I’m so sorry, my love…” Aphrodite sighed, “I-I didn’t…they’ve never asked anything like this of me before… I would simply refuse them- but I’m so scared of what they might do to you if I don’t!”
Sally held her close again, stifling more tears.
“I…understand, Aphrodite,” Sally promised, “you said they’re only giving you one week?”
“Yes…more like six days, now…I-I’m so-”
“Shh…” Sally silenced her, “If that’s what we have left…then we had better start using it.”
Oh.
Oh gods.
How the hell was Aphrodite going to give up this woman?
___
It was on the fifth day that Aphrodite made her request to Sally, testing the waters. At the time, yes, she would have simply gone through with her idea herself and returned to Olympus to let her plan come to fruition. But the time spent with Sally, the dawn of the new year approaching them, helped clear her mind. If she was going to go through with this, she would need Sally’s blessing.
“Good morning, Aph,” Sally greeted that morning, preparing breakfast, clearly cheerful. She also looked really good. It was a fact that Aphrodite was constantly rediscovering every time she laid her eyes on her. And of course, she would become so dumbstruck that the most foolish of words would fall from her lips, awkward and untested, “How did you sl-”
“Let’s have a-” she coughed, “Baby! Let’s have one. Let’s have a baby.”
Perfect. Flawless. Not an issue with that delivery at all.
The real shocker was that Sally agreed.
___
On day six, Aphrodite pressed a kiss to Sally’s head as she slept, shifted the blankets over her, and left.
When Sally awoke, she tried to only let it hurt a little.
___
It took Aphrodite seven months to get him just right. But in the end, he was perfect. Athena’s thought-children had nothing on her little joy! He was born in her mortal home, a mansion on the coast of Cyprus where she first walked. She crafted him as Sally perceived herself, but he had his mother’s smile and her kindness. He was created with a full head of black hair, just like her own at that time. She would let Sally choose his name.
“Many of my children grow up and find fame- but also great hardship. Victims of their own vanity, perhaps, or so engrossed in romantic love that they find themselves lost in the end. Not our child, Sally…when I’m finished with him, they will be…different. Strong. I worry monsters may come for them.”
Sally kissed her again.
“If they’re all I’m gonna have left to remember you by, then I’ll keep him safe. On my life. But why different?”
“...consider it my gift to you, love,” Aphrodite claimed, then, “a way of getting back at the gods who drove us apart. Let our love, the product of it, make theirs falter by comparison.”
Because how else was Aphrodite supposed to tell her the true intent of all this? What mother would agree to enlist their child in a war before they were born?
When she breathed life into him, his strong lungs were put well on display. Oh, how he cried, so suddenly with consciousness and soul. She laughed and held him close, soothing him, feeding him, and generally obsessing. Mighty, was the Love Goddess’ care for her children, no matter what anyone said.
“I’ll have to leave you soon, my little one,” she whispered to him, certain that he would never recall these words but feeling important to remind him of such, “never doubt that I love you. One day, you’ll show them all the power of our love. Eros, philia, storge, xenia… nothing could be more important. Or more powerful. If you’re truly the child of prophecy… I've every faith in you."
Her little hero then proceeded to vomit.
“Good talk…”
She changed clothes in a snap and was proceeding to clean off her son’s face when the air shifted. The mostly silence of Aphrodite’s bedroom became replaced with small, almost muted, clicking sounds. Her room felt colder, and the sunrise that slipped in through her window, usually bountiful in color, looked drab and grey. Her overjoyed expression turned sour as she turned, carrying her son gently, supporting his head, to meet the unannounced intruders.
“Clotho. Lachesis. Atropos,” Aphrodite more or less exclaimed, rather than greeted, “Good morning to you.”
Indeed, the Fates themselves were seated on her bedside, staring at nothing in particular but knitting the thread of life all the same. Clotho, the fate of Birth, carried the ball of yarn. Lachesis, the fate of Life, knitted the unreasonably large Chicago Bulls sweater, and Atropos, the fate of Death, held her scissors high and open, waiting for the string to be cut. It was all too gods damned quiet for Aphrodite’s liking before Clotho spoke.
“Take heed, Love Goddess,” Clotho muttered, her voice a cross of air slowly leaking from a balloon, and sandpaper, “to accept the probability of this prophecy being your own…”
“Will bring grave, near unending hardship among the half-blood’s shoulders…” Lachesis murmured, her voice much the same,
“There is one guarantee with this decision, young Aphrodite…” Atropos whispered.
“Speak it,” Aphrodite sort of demanded.
SNIP!
Aphrodite’s heart dropped. The jersey sweater faded out of existence, and Clotho strung another line to her sister to continue onward. Her son, almost asleep in her arms, shot awake and began to sniffle and whimper.
“So tell us, young eros, ” they spoke in unison, “is your love for her great enough to tempt this fate?”
Aphrodite didn’t bat an eye.
“You’re the Fates. You already know my answer.”
When Aphrodite blinked, the Fates were no longer there. Almost as though they had never been.
Sally answered her door the morning of August sixteenth to find a basket carrying their child. Instantly, she swept him into her arms and held him tightly, recalling the months without Aphrodite and how it had been made worth it with her son’s arrival.
“Perseus,” she called him, named for the hero, “Percy.”