Long, long, long ago... Post-Creation, Pre-Olympian Era
Nyx did not approve.
When Styx had begun seeing more and more of the Titan, appearing on the surface world, of all places, Nyx had not approved.
When Styx had brought her beau, Pallas, to meet her and Erebos in an official capacity, Nyx had not approved.
And when Pallas had asked permission to marry her daughter Nyx had not approved ( Read more... )
When Styx had begun seeing more and more of the Titan, appearing on the surface world, of all places, Nyx had not approved.
When Styx had brought her beau, Pallas, to meet her and Erebos in an official capacity, Nyx had not approved.
And when Pallas had asked permission to marry her daughter Nyx had not approved ( Read more... )
Pulling her again from the blasted plant, he took her injured hand into both of his and turned it into the moonlight. The tiny drops were black in the light, but he knew their true color. Gently, his fingertips brushed the liquid aside, and he brought her hand up to his lips to kiss the breaks in her skin.
"Not everyone is as lucky as we are, Nyxie," he murmured against her palm. She was resistant, but he pulled her to his chest anyway and tucked his chin over her head. His little wife.
Sighing once, he scooped her up into his arms (and though she half-heartedly flailed, he ignored it), then walked to the nearest bench, where he sat down with her. His arms were steel, keeping her from sliding out of his lap when she wanted to.
"Do not run away, Nyx," he murmured, his voice turning softer. "This marriage will happen. Whether you want it or no. Do not make it hard on her. Do not make it hard on our family. There is little reason to do so. If Styxie were here, she would tell you to stop trying to swim upstream."
He did not try to soothe her with his words. His hands stroked their paths down her sides, against her hips, and up to her stomach. As he felt her will to leave his lap drain away slowly, he let his hands explore all-too-familiar territory, territory that never, never would be uninteresting to him.
"Give your blessing," he said in her ear. "Give it. There are other ways. They are not as easy, and all end in roughly the same place. For this, the easier path is better."
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Her eyes rose to his, and she knew that she had lost. It was unbearable, was this. The entire situation. His lack of support, her inability to make anyone understand what should be, her lack of will when he touched her.
"What if he will not make her happy, Ere?" she said, trying to regulate her breath even as she shifted under his hands to allow him better access to her. "Not for long... not forever."
But she knew it didn't matter. She knew that ultimately, he was right - at least in saying that her resistance would only cause pain... that this would happen regardless of her wishes.
His words in her ear, his breath on her neck, sent a shiver through her skin and throughout her.
"I only want her to have the best," she breathed, her hand sliding inadvertently to the side of his neck.
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"I know you do. Right now, Pallas is that. Anything - anyone - else would hurt her, and possibly others. Pallas is who Styx needs right now, who she wants, and who she should have. Do you want to take that from her?"
With a sigh, he tightened his arms about his wife's waist, kissed her hair, and shook his head.
"If Fate, as you mentioned, has other plans, they will come to fruition when the time is right. Now it is time for Pallas and Styx. Do not try to change that. It will not go well. He will make Styxie happy. He already does. Faith, my love."
When she opened her mouth again, he met it with his own, kissing her long and deeply. He loved his Nyx, but sometimes she could be downright difficult.
Kissing always made it easier.
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"I do not like it, my Ere."
She nipped his earlobe.
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Obligations of hosts.
Dragging himself away from her, or rather, dragging her away from him, he stood carefully, and shifted uncomfortably. This would be . . . fun.
"I am sorry for that," he said sincerely. "Some things are not for us to like."
But when he put his hand out for her to take, his eyes promised that later, when the guests were gone, they would finish what they had begun.
And Erebos always. Kept his promises.
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She did not want to go back into that room, to smile, to feign interest and approval where there was none. The Titan and his parents, Styx and a smattering of her siblings (though Lachesis and Atropos were notably absent - Clotho could never be kept from a family gathering under any circumstances).
"Make my excuses for me, Husband. Tell them I am overwrought with joy, or maternal pride, or some such." Once again she waved her hand.
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He waited a beat. Another. Then frowned once and turned away, heading back toward their temple. He was disappointed in her.
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It had to be Erebos'. Way. Every. Time.
There was No. Other. Perspective. Nothing else. To Consider.
There were Two. Ways.
Erebos' Way. And. The Wrong Way.
Already, she would have to accept this farce of a marriage. Already, she had been unable to make him understand without having to reveal the work of Fate what was afoot. Already he had teased her into thinking she would have a viable means of getting out her aggression, and now he wanted to go tend guests - and on top of that, he wanted to frown at her?!
An acorn pegged him - hard - in the back of the head. The trajectory made it impossible for it to have fallen out of a tree, and well they both knew it.
When he slowly turned around to look at her, her arms were folded and she shrugged her shoulders at him.
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Slowly. He turned.
An eyebrow shot upwards, but he did not say. anything. Or show anything in his face.
Just as slowly, he crossed his arms over his chest. And stared Nyx down.
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"These gardens are tricky, Ere. Sometimes it seems as though the flora has a mind of its own."
She shrugged again, almost innocently.
"I understand that plantlife can become very agitated around stubborn, oafish gods who infuriate their wives. Try not to take it personally."
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If she would not do her duty, then someone needed to pick up her slack.
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She would never win with him. Never. And she knew it. It had always been this way - and it always would be, wouldn't it? Such was her lot.
Frustration upon frustration layered on top of each other, until finally, the very sight of the temple, of the gardens, of the Underworld itself was too much to bear. Nyx's wings sprouted out of her back, and silently, she took off, ascending out of the Underworld and into the mortal realm for a while.
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Now she was really beginning to irk him.
He took long strides into the temple, greeted their guests again, and did what his wife would not.
But he was displeased. Very. Displeased. that he had to do this alone. His wife should be here.
Hopefully, Styx would not take offense.
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