Inheritance - a sequel to Shelter

Disguises No One Knows - Multiple POV

The Very Distant Past

Ganymede

"Come on," Eros coaxes, tapping a gilded knucklebone against his knee. "This is how you play the game. You did say you wanted to play, right – that Zeus wants you to make friends and learn the ropes?"

Ganymede frowns at his lap. He sits cross-legged in the grass on the opposite side of a dusty patch of dirt from Eros. If it were his choice, he'd rather make friends with anybody other than the love god. According to Zeus, Eros and Ganymede are in the same boat: outsiders brought into the Olympian fold by one of the twelve and Aphrodite and now, Zeus have been anxiously trying to help them fit in.

"Yes," Ganymede says under his breath, glancing up from under his lowered eyebrows. He hates how small being around Eros makes him feel. Standing, Eros barely rises to Ganymede's chest. His black hair with its unshorn ringlets, his limbs juvenile and undeveloped, and his large white wings only serve to make him look even younger than his height. Ganymede, with eighteen mortal years behind him and a handful of love affairs before his abduction, finds it hard to believe that this barely pubescent youth knows the first thing about love, let alone holding dominion over it.

Eros folds his arms over his chest, drumming his fingers impatiently, and though Ganymede refuses to meet his eyes, he can feel their gaze, red as blood, burning like poison upon his scalp.

"Look, if you want to be my friend, you have to play the game. It's not hard to throw a few bones, is it?"

Ganymede sighs. At least when the game is over he'll have an excuse to leave. He tosses his last three knucklebones onto the dusty patch. His stomach lurches as he calculates his score. It feels like he's trying to digest a solid knot of disappointment.

Eros crows, fluttering three feet in the air before swooping back and snatching the bones for himself. "I win!"

Ganymede glares at him. "Yeah? Great. Congratulations. You may have won all my knucklebones, but you sure didn't win my friendship. I'm out of here." He climbs to his feet and dusts off his legs. The idea he's going to have to return to Zeus and admit he failed at making friends gives him pause. He stands with his back to Eros, considering his options: give it another shot, or retreat.

"It isn't all that big a deal you realize?" Eros whispers, directly at Ganymede's back. His wings wafting his nectar-sweet breath across Ganymede's cheek, gentle as a caress. But his voice burns like acid. "Zeus choosing you, I mean. He may be the king of the gods and all, but he's clueless to the matters of the heart. You're little more than a trinket to him, a toy – a passing fancy. You've been brought to Olympus and gifted with immortality in order to preserve your youth and his desire for you, and nothing more. He hasn't given you dominion over squat. You may as well be a walking, talking doll for all the worth you have amongst the Olympians."

Tensing, Ganymede clenches his fists at his sides, all his built up frustrations and fears about his own worth rising up inside his chest like a geyser of righteous indignation. He whirls around, meeting Eros face to face. "What doyou know? Maybe you're the one who is only a trinket. Maybe you are only a symbol of the 'love' you claim power over. I don't see you enjoying the fruits of it. Maybe it doesn't matter to me what worth I have in the eyes of the other Olympians because I have enough love within myself all on my own. Enough even to share with others andthat is why Zeus treasures me. Yes, it may not last forever, but life on Olympus lasts a hell of a lot longer than it does in the mortal world and I intend to make the most of it. I love Zeus and that is enough to prove my worth to myself. Keep your fancy knucklebones and your creepy insinuations and enjoy the love they inspire. I will not be your friend."

Eros

Ganymede stalks away, brushing hard against Eros's right wing and displacing several feathers as he rushes past. Eros clenches his teeth, his face hot, his heart seething. How dare this upstart 'prince' turn his words around! He grasps his bow and reaches for an arrow. From behind, a warm hand touching his wrist stops him. The gentle contact sends a flood of comforting warmth running down his arm and to his heart. Mother.

"I think that will do," Aphrodite says, her voice soft and low. "Save your anger for the bigger targets. They'll be heading this way before long."

His eyes burn, brimming with tears. He drops his bow, turning and burying his face in her embrace. He likes having a mother, someone who loves him without reason and readily offers her company and comfort. He hadn't understood the concept of motherly love before she arose from the sea and adopted him on sight. Still, even as he relaxes against her bosom, allowing her to smooth his displaced feathers, he considers the plan.

"I don't understand," he sniffles. "Why must I break up a love like theirs? It came about organically without any outside influence, like I did." He drops his voice to a low whisper. "You're asking me to break myself in doing this, Mother."

Another voice answers, deeper than Aphrodite's but no less feminine. "If their love is true as you say it is, it will not break and neither will you. Not by this action. Not permanently."

Aphrodite relaxes her arms, allowing him to draw back enough to meet the speaker. He turns, drawing his wings so he can sense Aphrodite's presence at his back. A girl about the same height and proportions as his form gazes at him with the focused sharpness of a hunter. He recognizes her pale blue eyes, and though they haven't ever exchanged words, he knows her at once.

"Artemis," he says. His voice sounds somehow louder than usual and restrained at the same time. Artemis raises an eyebrow before his eyes are drawn to the refracting light behind her. Another goddess appears out of thin air. She stands beside Artemis, though he can't quite make out her face. It keeps changing as the light around them shimmers and chases, twinkling like dewdrops on a spider's web before winking out and beginning again.

The new goddess's voice sounds gruff to him, grating in his ears like pebbles being crunched underfoot. "If you do not suspend this bond, far worse will befall the world at large. The Fates do not take efforts to cheat them lightly and Zeus has already fallen to their curse. It is a matter of time before he brings his own destruction raining down upon us all unless a champion rises who is capable of bearing his mantle."

Eros opens his mouth to speak before the light distracts him again. It pulses like a current, tracing a dome in the air around them. When he focuses again on the goddesses, another has shimmered into being, one he remembers from the days before the Olympian gods: Hecate. She slips an arm around the faceless goddess's waist, her solid black eyes fixating on him.

"Nemesis speaks the truth, Eros. She involves herself with Olympian politics only when the imbalance of power posits a genuine threat. Truly, as you yourself rose from the void of Chaos, you understand why the evolution of conscious beings, mortal and immortal alike is worth saving. Do you yourself want to return to the disordered darkness?" He shakes his head, his heart racing with a terror he cannot explain. "Apollo will never rise to his full potential until he has been tried. He must be battered to the point of losing everything before making the choice of rising up and claiming his birthright or succumbing to loss. But, even then, we will have bought ourselves time. It is possible, if Apollo cannot manage it, another savior will have risen in his stead."

He hates hearing such arguments but he cannot deny the wisdom in them. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth, bolstered by Aphrodite's support at his back. They're waiting for him to answer, to swear he will carry out what they ask of him. He takes a deep breath, weighing his options against the judgement he feels in the numerous eyes the goddesses have fixed on him.

A silver flash.

His heart drums against his ribs as a myriad of color floods the dome all around them. Iris stands before him, his favorite goddess after Aphrodite. Her presence always seems to calm him. Her warm brown eyes, her no-nonsense attitude mixing with the playful wafting of her butterfly wings seeming to buffer the heaviness of his decision and to help keep his heart aloft.

"It is vital that you hit your marks, Eros. I understand how hard it is. My sweet-natured Zephyr," she sighs, her chin trembling. "It pains me to no end at seeing him hurt, a blight put upon his character. But as Hecate has foreseen, and I too ... the destruction that will come if we do not act ..." She clasps Eros's hands in her own, squeezing them as if both offering and asking for support. "The action we ask of you is the only path we have found to effectively buy us time without breaking the laws set by the Fates."

His chin trembling, Eros nods. He squeezes Iris's hands back, agreeing without words. A love god intending to destroy love may mar his reputation for eternity, but out of love for all conscious minds – the variety of intelligence among so many beings; the emotional range of passion they inspire in one another and pass on through generations – he will accept the title of villain if it will spare a return to Chaos.