Chapter Text
Humans cannot deny the gods what they desire.
That fact was woven into the very fabric of the universe long before you were ever born. It is a fact you are reminded of time and time again; when the crops fail it is because Hestia was angered by what you chose to grow. When a person is struck by lightning, it is because they spoke ill of Zeus, calling upon his ire. When the weapons of the village guards break, it is because Hephestus did not bless them.
And when the sea retreats from the land days before a message is sent to the temple, all know it is Poseidon who must be appeased.
“You know that we love you, right?” Your mother whispers as she holds you close. Her hands shake terribly as they run through your hair, making sure you look presentable as a bride offering, but not too beautiful to stand out. You nod, frightened, understanding intrinsically that these were the last words she could give you before you were sent to accept your fate.
When your mother is forced to close the door behind you, you can hear her weeping from beyond the wood.
Your father helps you into the temple cart you used to see ride past the fields as a child, his hands a familiar roughness. They tremble, but are strong, a man who had never been burdened with true fear until today, “If you are not chosen, you will be allowed to come home,” He tells you, reassuring both you and himself.
When the cart begins its trek, your father holds your hands and runs along, until a rising stone makes him trip and let go.
You see your younger sister and brothers as they run through the fields, calling your name, scared and grieving. You see one of them collapse, their hands clasped in prayer, and you know that their words will go unanswered. They disappear when the cart travels over the next hill, leaving you to shiver, alone, with only the judgmental look from the temple representative.
It takes three hours for you to reach the temple of the gods. While larger cities must have one dedicated to each god in the pantheon, your village was small and relied on fishing and farming. The only offerings that could be given by the village were the things you could grow or cultivate, though the gods made even that difficult for humans.
Once you arrive, there is no time wasted, as you are almost dragged out of the cart and into the temple halls, “You’re late!” The head priest hisses between his yellowed teeth, and you wince in pain as his grip bruises your upper arm.
He mutters under his breath as he ‘guides’ you inside, only halting his rapid walk when you are brought to the rest of the girls selected as bridal candidates. Fifteen names had been pulled from all the girls in the village. Fourteen of them, you notice, awkwardly, are all daughters from the wealthier families in the village, as they wear beautiful, clean and newly made togas.
You receive unkind looks for your clothing and hair, which was wind-swept and unkempt. The dress you wore was the one your mother wore when she married your father… it was also the cleanest and prettiest clothing your family owned.
Flustered, you a brought to stand at the end of the line, furthest away from the village chief’s daughter, but closest to the altar, “You could have been more presentable if you were going to come late, girl,” The head priest hisses against your ear, giving you an unimpressed once over before shoving you in place and stepping to the altar.
The crowd murmurs and your cheeks burn hot with humiliation. Your clasp your trembling hands in front of you and keep your head down meekly, wishing you could turn in on yourself to escape the piercing gazes from the priests and fellow bridal candidates.
Yearning for the fields and your homespun clothing, you clench your eyes shut and give a quick prayer to the god of mercy, hoping they will heed your request.
“Good, it seems we are all gathered now,” The head priest speaks and you flinch, peeking from beneath your lashes as he clears his throat and prepares the scripture of Poseidon. You see the way his hands shake and hear the tightness in his voice as he begins to speak the words of appeasement.
The temple is silent. Not a word is whispered as the priest chants, his eyes staring down at the scriptures, lest he mistakenly lands his gaze upon the god being called upon. The words filter through your ears as if in a fog, but you can feel the oppressive presence of them slither over your skin. There is no wind outside, and no seagulls flying above. The world feels as if it goes still, and you know, instinctively, that something dangerous and wicked this way comes.
The stone altar cracks as the head priest utters the last words of the chant and the ground begins to shake. Light blinds you, a piercing crack of something akin to thunder deafens you, and fear makes your legs go weak. You hear the other girls cry, though you are preoccupied as the trembling earth causes you to lose your balance and fall to your knees.
A man steps down from the sky in front of you. You do not notice. If you had, you would have realised your mistake and immediately begged for mercy.
Your hands break your fall, rocks dig into your palms and knees. You’ll be bruised after this, you note weakly, though you suppose you should be grateful if that were the only injury you would receive. The restless shifting of the earth halts, suddenly as if surprised, which is when you notice the ugliest green boots you’ve ever seen right in front of you.
Freezing, you stared silently, your blood running cold. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, drowning out the sound of the other woman as they cried, afraid of the man who had just appeared. Fear rises like an ocean’s high tide in the centre of your chest, and it feels difficult to breathe as you try to remember if any of the priests wore ugly green boots.
Oh gods, you’re going to die… that, or you’re going to be violently ill.
The screech of metal being pulled through stone breaks through the spiralling of your mind, and you jolt in surprise. The man – Poseidon, you presume – is holding his arm out towards the cracked altar, allowing a large, golden trident to fly into his hand. The moment his hand wrapped around it, he slammed the end to the ground, and you ducked your head lower.
From the corner of your eye, you saw the priest fall to his knees into a deep bow, “L-Lord Poseidon! We gratefully thank you for answering our prayers!” You winced as the old man shouted, though you understood the fearful desperation in his tone. Out of all the gods, Poseidon was the cruellest and most brutal – and he hated humans, “My Lord Poseidon, we beg of you to heed our request-!”
“Enough,” A shiver wracked down your spine when the god spoke above you. Never in your life had you heard anyone respond so coldly to the head priest. Biting your inner cheek, you remained where you were, too close for Poseidon not to have noticed your presence – and too close for your comfort, if he became angry and decided to cut off the necks of everyone here.
Trembling, you tried not to whimper as Poseidon stayed before you, and wondered if you could risk trying to move away from him, “Your request has to do with the dried harbours outside your… village, I take it,” The disdain in Poseidon’s voice was clear for you to hear, and you bit your lower lip to hold back the offended words that ached to leave your throat, “You’ve gathered the offering, I take it?”
The head priest swallowed so thickly you could hear it from your distanced position, “Y-yes, of course, my Lord! We of the temple have brought before you the fifteen women whose names were cast down from the heavens as suggested brides,” Poseidon frowned in disgust, his blue eyes turning to the whimpering huddle of women on the other side of the room from him.
He seemed to completely disregard you, who was kneeling in front of him, likely having caught sight of your worn clothing and dishevelled appearance and ignored you, “Did I not inform you that I would take the finest treasure of this village as my offering? What in all the heavens and on earth made you believe that a bunch of weak, whining women were that?”
The priest stammered and turned pale, trying to think of an excuse but unable to come up with one. You could sense the air change and clenched your fists, only to suck in a sharp, pained breath when you broke the skin of your palms. The priest gave you a dirty look that you could see from the corner of your eye, but you were more concerned with the sharp blade that was suddenly pointed at your neck.
You startled, accidentally pricking the vulnerable skin against the sharp point, blood trickling from the wound, “A-ah-!” You gasped, instinctively raising your head to try and pull away from the deadly weapon. Your eyes locked with Poseidon’s, your blood running cold as you realised your mistake too late.
The moment your eyes locked with his the world seemed to narrow and go silent for the god. The universe seemed to shift into place, a click before the machine began turning once more. You were just like any other human Poseidon had come across – weak, filthy, and pathetic, a mere blip in the story of the great fabric of time and space that would never leave a permanent mark.
And yet, when he looked at you, Poseidon felt as if the breath were stolen from his lungs. You… there was something about your presence, about the quality of your soul that Poseidon could barely see, but wanted. Many a time had he heard from Zeus, Apollo and the other gods of that momentary spark that started an obsession, the maddening moment where everything made total clarity as Poseidon knew what he should do.
It was the fates that pulled the strings that brought you before Poseidon. He was certain of this. Whether he liked that his fate was toyed with did not matter – in the grand scheme of things, your story was meant to intertwine with Poseidon’s. There was nothing else he had ever been more certain of. For he is a god – and the gods are perfect beings destined to rule above humanity.
You were his. This was a simple fact in the god’s mind.
Tears sprung into your eyes and you trembled weakly, unable to bow your head or break away from his stare, “M-My Lord, please for-forgive me for my impropriety,” You whimpered, trying to hold back from crying as you desperately searched for a way to get out of this mess, “I did not mean t-to gaze upon your beautiful vis-visage on purpose, my Lord Poseidon. It was an accident.”
You could hear the head priest cursing you out under his breath and despaired on the inside for being so foolish. Never would you be able to forgive yourself if you cause the destruction of your village if you gained the god’s ire. Fearing for your family, you pleaded with whatever god could hear you that Poseidon could show mercy, just this once, for your terrible mistake.
Your words, however, pulled a small smirk from Poseidon, the god shifting his position to squat in front of you, “Oh? You think I am beautiful, mortal?” He asked, his tone mocking you as he pressed the tip of his trident more firmly against your throat. He watched, enraptured as the tears shining in your eyes spilt down your cheeks, “Do you presume that your words of flattery will save you from being speared like a worm, girl?”
“N-No, my Lord!” You cried desperately, but your voice never became louder than a whisper at the looming threat of Poseidon’s weapon, “I-it was merely an observation, Lord Poseidon. I understand that-that I was wrong to meet your gaze,” You were shaking so hard that Poseidon had to pull his weapon back just slightly, trying to ensure you didn’t accidentally stab yourself.
How pathetic, you were shaking like a mouse in front of a giant cat, he mused, waiting for you to continue with your excuse, “Is-is it not true that the sea is as beautiful as it is deadly?” You dared to ask, your mind trying to find anything that would flatter the deadly god, even if you knew you were digging a deeper grave for yourself.
Poseidon hummed lowly, studying your terrified expression for a moment more before he pulled his trident away from your neck, “Well, I suppose even a mouse can be charmed by the elegance of a snake, no?” You couldn’t even feel relief that Poseidon seemed to have no intention of killing you, though that was short-lived when he grabbed your jaw with a rough hand.
You flinched and instinctively tried to pull away, which had Poseidon tighten his grip on your chin until your jaw creaked beneath his touch, “What a homely little thing you are,” Poseidon muttered, more to himself than to you, his expression bored as he turned and tilted your face this way and that, “Tell me, woman, are you one of the candidates chosen to be my bride? Or are you just an unlucky priestess who fell before the greatness of her god?”
Nausea filled you and you wondered if you should lie and say you were not one of the women chosen as a sacrifice to appease him, “I-I am one of the brides, yes,” You whispered, ashamed when your answer made Poseidon scoff. Part of you was offended that he would react in such a manner to your declaration, though you suppose, compared to the other girls, that you were much shabbier looking in your second-hand years-old dress.
You held your tongue. Insulting the god would do you no good, no matter how much your throat stung from the unspoken words. Several moments passed where Poseidon continued to study you, his grip on your chin bruising the tender skin. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, because the next thing you knew, Poseidon had stood up – though he still held your chin like you were a naughty dog that required training.
“Her,” Poseidon spoke, his voice so deep it felt like it would rattle your bones. The head priest seems confused before he notices that Poseidon is squatted in front of you. He gripped your chin tightly, holding your head up so he could stare into your gaze with piercing sea-blue eyes, “I will choose her as my bride.”
The head priest seemed as astounded with the god’s choice as you felt, “Of… of course, my Lord Poseidon!” Unluckily for you, the old priest was quick to react, bowing low and grovelling gratefully to Poseidon, “We shall hold the richest ceremony to bind you and the bride together in marriage. Please give us a few days to-“
Poseidon snorted and waved off the head priest’s offer, his lips quirking into a sneer, “There will be no need for that,” The blond said sharply, releasing his hold on your jaw to grab your arm, noticing the bruise that was already there and holding you with surprising gentility, “I will be taking my bride back to the home of the gods now,” Saying this, Poseidon snapped his fingers, the sharp sound followed by a crack of thunder as a bridge of light formed above him.
Your heart leapt into your throat, and you tried to protest, remembering the tearful, frightened expressions of your family. You were ignored, however, as Poseidon simply lifted you beneath his arm, carrying you like a sack as he took his first step onto the bridge that would carry you both back to his home.
“The tide will return by dawn tomorrow,” He spoke, his words bringing relief to the temple and the women that were huddled together, witnessing as Poseidon made off with his chosen bride. The ominous tone of his declaration seemed not to dawn upon any of them, as they were more interested in watching you squirming and struggling to try and free yourself from Poseidon’s hold.
With another crack of thunder, the god and his mortal bride disappeared. Within an hour the town was alight with cries of jubilation, drowning out the grief-filled weeping of your family as the day turned to dusk.
The following dawn, the tide came back as Poseidon had promised, flooding the village and all within it.
The only land left untouched was that of your family.