Springtime 1681 CE, Paris
It was late evening, and the City of Lights was, as always, teeming with life. Nyx was at a grand masquerade, poking subtle fun at Hera, who though not in attendance, might have scowled at Night bedecked in a glorious peacock colored dress. The deep greens and blues of the silk shimmered iridescently by design, rather than divine will, which only
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Now. Nyx typically had the best taste in everything. So he knew that this strange garb they wore was probably very expensive and very tasteful (even if it showed off more of her chest than any other male should see. The French. Snort.). But by Creation, it was ridiculous!
And then he called him her most handsome beast. It was difficult to argue with her when she smiled so sweetly and when she called him that name, the name that meant that she loved him, and when she was so very clearly happy.
Grumbling under his breath, he looked into the parlor, then back to her.
And grudgingly, he held out his arm. Tonight, at least, she danced only with him. Now that put a smile on his face.
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That was enough to overlook the clothing. Leading her strongly into the dance, he let himself admire his lovely creature of a wife. Were others looking at her? The idea spiked in his head and he glanced around, but the men there were very careful not to look.
And that pleased Erebos. Infinitely.
He had not noticed the attention of the mortal women. He had no need to look their way. As they danced together, his thumb gently stroked her hand. Beautiful little Nyxie.
They were not alone, so he did not smile. But his eyes told the tale of his pleasure. That light grew when she whispered her idea.
"Court you? Right now? If you wish. Then I will."
And with a terribly mischevious almost-smile, he released her hands and reached for her waist to throw her over his shoulder and drag her off to some dark place in this mortal home.
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"You are a beast," she scolded in a whisper, though her expression revealed a bit of barely concealed amusement. "How utterly inappropriate you are! And in front of all these guests..."
She put on a little moue for him, and continued in the same whisper:
"That is not courting, my husband. That completely circumvents the very idea of courting."
He turned her, and she dipped into a low curtsey before smoothly returning to his arms.
"What I was trying to say, O Insatiable One, is that I should like to be wooed. By you."
She looked at him with mock lament.
"You have never wooed me."
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Perhaps he strutted a little more when she reaffirmed his beastly status. But when she mentioned the guests, he looked at her with the patented "By Creation!" look.
"Wife," he whispered back to her. "They are mortal. If we stripped completely of their trappings and copulated on this marble floor, they could still say that it was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. And they would be right."
Let her think on that a few minutes.
Courting. He knew something of what mortals did for this. Mooning at someone's window in the moonlight. Picnics in the park on Sundays. Cakes shaped like hearts and chocolate confections. Writing poetry -- bad poetry -- and publishing it in little flyers that you dropped all over town, with your lady's name listed only as 'N---' or 'M---' or 'L---'. Foolishness, all ( ... )
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This time, Nyx's mouth did open into a little "o" which she promptly shut again as a flush swept over her cheeks, and she raised her fan as they danced, opening it and fanning herself rapidly to hide her reaction. No matter how much of the world she saw, no matter how cultured or sophisticated she might become, her husband - and only her husband - could still make her blush.
It was a bit maddening at times.
Recovering herself quickly, she whispered,
"Don't be scandalous, Ere!" Though the amount of time that had passed before she said it would indicate that she had at least briefly considered the prospect.
But no! There was a point to be made here. And her husband was being so insufferably male about it, of course ( ... )
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But damn. If she wasn't cute.
Glancing around him, he noticed more than a handful of men suddenly find great interest in the cuffs of their sleeves, in the lace that they wore, in the companion they had beside them, and even in the mosiac marble tile at their feet. He glared at them. But at least they stopped looking at Nyx. Damn their eyes!
With resignation, Erebos started to lead his wife to the door. "Then perhaps a walk in the moonlight, Darkling?"
He imagined, if he put his mind to it, he could be very good at wooing Nyx. But he did not understand the purpose behind it. Did he not give her enough attention? Yes, he answered, he certainly did.
She wanted more.
He would do his best to give her more, then.
Women.
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It pleased her to be HisWhen he returned her gaze to her, Nyx looked up at her husband as he took her from the room. At first, she gave him only a small smile, though pleasure suffused the gaze she cast upon him. Once they were out of view of the other guests, moving through the shadowy corridor, she offered him a beautiful, brilliant smile, and kissed his cheek ( ... )
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"Hm," he said, frowning, then shook his head and tucked her hand back into his arm again.
He led them subtuly towards a darker area of the garden, without looking like he was. He didn't care what any observing mortals might think, but he didn't want NYXIE thinking he was doing it on purpose.
Innocent.
That was Ere.
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Oh yes, she did.
She smiled at him fetchingly when he plucked one from the garden and set it in her artfully arranged curls, and her fingers went to skim silkily across his before he withdrew his hand.
But then he stopped, and looked at her, and frowned, of all things. She became distracted from the path they were on.
She looked up at him as he put her hand back in the crook of his arm again, and gave him a quizzical look.
"And what are you frowning at, my husband?"
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