Jealousy
By Rupert Brooke
When I see you, who were so wise and cool,
Gazing with silly sickness on that fool
You've given your love to, your adoring hands
Touch his so intimately that each understands,
I know, most hidden things; and when I know
Your holiest dreams yield to the stupid bow
Of his red lips, and that the empty grace
Of those strong legs and arms, that rosy face,
Has beaten your heart to such a flame of love,
That you have given him every touch and move,
Wrinkle and secret of you, all your life,
—Oh! then I know I'm waiting, lover-wife,
For the great time when love is at a close,
And all its fruit's to watch the thickening nose
And sweaty neck and dulling face and eye,
That are yours, and you, most surely, till you die!
Day after day you'll sit with him and note
The greasier tie, the dingy wrinkling coat;
As prettiness turns to pomp, and strength to fat,
And love, love, love to habit!
And after that,
When all that's fine in man is at an end,
And you, that loved young life and clean, must tend
A foul sick fumbling dribbling body and old,
When his rare lips hang flabby and can't hold
Slobber, and you're enduring that worst thing,
Senility's queasy furtive love-making,
And searching those dear eyes for human meaning,
Propping the bald and helpless head, and cleaning
A scrap that life's flung by, and love's forgotten,—
Then you'll be tired; and passion dead and rotten;
And he'll be dirty, dirty!
O lithe and free
And lightfoot, that the poor heart cries to see,
That's how I'll see your man and you!—
But you
—Oh, when that time comes, you'll be dirty too!
Jealousy is an ugly emotion. Those who are powerful enough to look above it; very few in number.
Berenice wanted to scream. She tried to make him angry at her. She told him of the many reasons that should make her a subject to his hate and yet...
She had seen it firsthand. The many wives of her father, who sent distasteful looks at her mother, The Queen.
Her father had fallen in love with her mother.
(She had dreamed of love.
Her father had called love just another name for tragedy.)
Then, he continued to break her heart. But, never once, he loved those he married for ambition.
(He broke their hearts as well.)
Sleep was a foreign concept.
A storm brew with his every breath. His tiredness and growing restlessness with it, only adding to the fuel.
He was with the men of their army, helping them train, talking, getting to know their names when the toll of using his powers continuously for a week --consciously and unconsciously --hit.
He staggered forward only for two of the men to catch him, breaking his fall. He blinked the dark spots in his vision and rubbed his forehead.
A sharp pain in his gut brought him down to his knees.
He could feel the worry building around him. He could feel the small tremor of the ground as the royal guards, adorned in heavy golden armor, marched their way forward and around him.
Before they could help him to his room, an oppressive aura of power pushed them away from his slumped form.
The goddess of violent storms smiled, pleased, when they all bowed to her, whispering prayers in her name.
Paying little mind to it, she looked down. "Stand up, brother. Unacceptable of you to fall on your knees after creating a storm worthy of my attention."
The magic behind her words washed over and Percy found himself trying to step up.
The goddess flashed him a grin before helping him up with small effort. He was not light but to the immortal he was like a feather, she supported him as he walked with her towards his room.
The servants around them came to a surprised halt as they passed the hallways. With wide eyes, they stared with pure awe and fear before bowing their heads in respect to the sea goddess.
The four guards walked behind them, not far away. He could hear their heavy footsteps and the sound of metal.
He was aware of his powers like he had become on very few occasions before, the tremors of ground, the heartbeats, the moisture in the air, the rise and fall of every tide. The feeling left him tired but also a little drunk on the power.
"Let me take control of the storm. You, brother dear, must rest."
He fell into the realm of Morpheus.
"He would make an amazing god." Kymopoleia looked up. She was sitting at the foot of the bed, distracted and making droplets of water dance on her fingertips.
Upon noticing who said those words, the sea goddess seethed. "You are not wanted here."
The Olympian tutted. "Watch your tongue, little one. You are only a minor goddess."
Kymopoleia glared at him. "You have been following him. I can sense the storm you have tried to brew in our family with your interference."
"I can do whatever I want."
"Why are you here, Apollo?"
The sun god smiled, "Ah, I sensed distress." He moved to sit on the bed. "I can help."
Kymopoleia moved, standing up and didn't even let the god of healing lay a finger on her unconscious brother.
"Return to your duties, sky god. These are not your matters to interfere with."
Apollo smiled, effortlessly charming. "Cousin, I understand you do not want to see him like this. I can help." Things seemed to be going his way even when they were not. "You are trying to protect him from the god of healing. Do you really think that would do him any good?"
Doubt planted itself in the goddess's mind. She glanced at the demigod.
Apollo stepped closer to her, "I can help you too."
"Help me?"
"My dear cousin in destruction, don't you want a brother with a domain of storms who can be your family?"
"I- yes but-" She looked considerate and confused, she stared blankly ahead.
"Family forever. A loving brother with the power of storms. A mortal who is loved by your father." Apollo circled around her; he was an invisible predator hiding behind a facade of innocence. "He would make an amazing god." Apollo repeated, "Family forever."
"Yes-" As if breaking a spell, the goddess then snapped, "No!"
The sun god stayed clam. "No?"
"You will heal him, and you will stop giving me false visions of the future."
"You don't get to order me, little one. But I'm feeling rather... merciful today. I will let it slide this once," he grinned, "For Perseus, of course."
The sun god disappeared in a ray of sunlight and appeared beside the resting demigod. He brushed his long hair out of his face and leaned close to the half-blood's ear.
Kymopoleia saw his lips move, muttering a blessing that she could not hear.
They both left after that, but the storm goddess failed to see the crown of white laurels Apollo left for the son of Poseidon.
*
Apollo is here! What do you expect to happen next?
Vote and comment <3