Chapter 2

It was a calm and peaceful midday in Mount Olympus as Aphrodite hummed harmoniously to herself, brushing her silky blonde hair as she leaned against her soft and velvet bed. In front of her was an open view of the goddess Artemis' garden; the greens and vibrant colors of the vines and flowers stretching out around the palace pleased the eyes. Her soft and flawless skin touched bed linen, and her short dress exposed her beautiful legs.

She was on the brink of closing her eyes and allowing herself to dream of sweet nothings and pleasure, with the gentle brushes of her hair making her surrender to sleep. Just when she had put down her brush and made herself comfortable in her bed, a deep, rich voice echoed inside her head, a voice that she had never heard of before, and yet it did something unusual in the pit of her stomach.

The words of a man echoed inside her head, the sweet and honey prayers of this mortal sending a different kind of buzz down her spine as she sat up, the sleep clearly gone from her senses.

It felt amazing. She had never heard of prayer as sincere and genuine as this one, as she was used to hearing the same conventional words by men who only wanted to take her to bed and seek pleasure with her body. But this one was accompanied by sincerity, adoration, and a deep, silky voice.

“Oh my,” she gasped as the heat shot down to her core, and she blushed as she continued to listen to the faint echoes of this mystery man flooding her senses.

She stood from her bed, the linen that covered her body falling to the white and golden marble floor as she walked outside the garden, barefooted, trying to reach the voice as it grew louder and clearer with every step she took in a specific direction.

Aphrodite found herself stepping down the last few steps of the palace before the green grass stretched out in front of her, gods and goddesses alike doing their own businesses in the vast plain field. Beyond them was the edge of Olympus, a gateway to the mortal world below them.

She did not want to go any further into the field; she did not want to be interrupted by annoying gods who flirted with her and tried to insist on taking her to bed.

But here, the man's voice became more explicit, and it only took a second for Aphrodite to realize that he was dragging himself to a trial to prove his love and devotion to the goddess.

It only sparked even more excitement and thrill within the goddess’s senses.

She could not stop when she stepped down the last stair, running towards the edge of the cliff as her soft feet touched the fine grass beneath her. She stood by the edge of Olympus, and in front of her was the owner of the voice, a handsome young man, crying out to her.

Aphrodite could no longer tune in to his words as she was lost in the beauty of the mortal; his face was flawlessly sculpted, as perfect as the gods she lived with, but he looked more gentle, more human. His arms, protruding from his white chiton, were two perfect bulges and veins that told her he was a productive and active man who had shaped his body well. Aphrodite could only imagine how strong he was for mortal strength.

“Aphrodite, sweet and true! I, Michail of Athens, stand before you with praises and a troubled heart! I adore your beauty for it blinds me, it ignites the fires within me, and I can no more restrain the beating of my heart and singing of my songs…show me your love and your sweet, sweet, angelic face!”

Aphrodite was ecstatic.

“Please, my love, show me your beauty! Show me your mercy! Show me you!”

The man remained in the scorching heat of the sun, fat beads of sweat falling to his forehead, and the redness of his once pale skin was evident even from above Mount Olympus. He seemed determined to stay there and starve himself until he could no longer take it.

To show his weakness in front of her, to show his determination and pain just to see her in person – Aphrodite could only shudder in pleasure. She wanted to see more of this man and how far and long he could push himself to devote himself to his goddess.

“I will not leave, my queen!” The man cried out. He was already slurring his words. “Even if I have to die here, I shall not give up. I have only started my journey to see you. I will not stop until I come face to face with your beauty!”

Was this mortal serious? Was he truly committed to wanting Aphrodite to come to him, allowing herself to show her majestic form and watch his mortal body crumble and kneel?

Oh, she could only imagine the possibilities.

She watched as the man remained on the ground, the heat of the sun painful for a mere mortal such as him. Aphrodite wanted to come to him, to see where he goes, what he would do…the probability of restraining herself from showing her true form to him excited her; it was like playing a dangerous game, but with a sweet and pleasant consequence.

“Aphrodite,” a familiar voice snapped the goddess out of her reverie. It was a voice she despised for so long that it always irked her. “It's good to see you out of your bedroom. You don't often leave that cramped space; I've been beginning to miss you.”

Aphrodite could only hold a hand up to silence him, stopping him from trying to put an arm around her shoulders.

“Shut your mouth,” Aphrodite snapped in her sweet, soft voice, but it held so much agitation. “I do not have time for your games. Allow me to enjoy the sweet prayers of the mortals below us; it is so much better than talking to you out here.”

Aphrodite missed the look of annoyance in Apollo’s voice as she returned to her bedroom, her chin held high and ignoring the cat-calls she received from the gods that lingered in their vast playing field. She did not have any time to entertain their selfish wants. 

“This time,” she thought, “I should reward myself by caving into mortals' prayers and worship. I am putting myself first.”

She always said that to herself. “Self-love,” as the goddess of beauty would put it.

She yearned for the following day that she would find the same mortal once again and witness what he would do next. Something about him intrigued the goddess; he was unlike any other. And so, she spent the rest of the hours lounging in her quiet bedroom, her head filled with thoughts of the same mortal who captured her heart.

***

Aphrodite was pulled out of her sweet daydreaming when the goddess Iris could be heard padding inside her bedroom, the soft slap of her feet against the marble floor echoing inside Aphrodite’s almost empty room.

“Aphrodite!” Iris exclaimed, which jerked the goddess to sit up, blushing from her intense imagination.

“What is it? Is everything alright?” Aphrodite asked worriedly, hoping that Iris would not notice the red that began to fill her cheeks and neck.

“Everyone is looking down at the mortal who is on the brink of his death!”

“What??”

“Come quick!”

This had sent Aphrodite's senses into overdrive. Here she was, picturing the perfect moment where she would show herself to him, the two falling into a harmonious bond. But from what Iris had reported to her, the mortal was even ready to go beyond just torturing himself; he was ready to end his life for her.

She could not help but feel a slight tinge of excitement shooting to her core – a beautiful sacrifice it would be indeed – but her heart and mind cried otherwise. She still wanted to be with the man and get to know him.

She reached the edge of their home, making her way through the gods and goddesses until she could get a good view of him. She could hear him still crying out, but his words were no longer registered in her brain as she watched the mortal's body sway a little, eyes dropping and skin forming into several blisters that told her he was close to losing himself.

“Aren't you going to save your little mortal?” Apollo appeared next to her, his voice hinting at mockery and amusement.

Aphrodite ignored him.

“Just let him be. He wouldn’t even stand a chance with you, anyway. Come be with me instead, I can give you lots and lots of beautiful and handsome seedlings.”

“Are you going to save him, Aphrodite?” Another voice piped in. It was the goddess Hera, her voice soft and gentle like a mother would talk to her daughter.

Aphrodite didn’t have to answer as she fled away from Olympus, rushing down towards the earth below them into the mortal realm. She watched in panic as the man’s body fell to the ground, his head hitting the soil with a hard thud. 

“Wait!”

At Aphrodite's speed, she could not stop herself immediately before her body collided with the man's, the harsh impact pushing her to the ground on top of the mortal.

The mortal groaned in pain as his body pushed deeper into the rocky pavement, the back of his skull only grazing the sharp stones. It only worsened his state.

Aphrodite watched in alarm as she studied his face, not realizing the close proximity of their faces from each other. The mortal still had his eyes closed and had yet to witness the goddess he eagerly awaited.

“Are you alright, mortal?”

Aphrodite asked, and her voice seemed to have increased in pitch, making sure she sounded soft and gentle and trying to keep her panic at bay.

She watched with bated breath as the mortal slowly opened his eyes, and her breath was immediately taken away at the beauty of his wide brown eyes, staring back at her worried blues.

She could feel his breath fanning her face, and her hands were resting against his chest, unable to move since their harsh collision. The mortal's blistered hand rested against her waist while the other limply rested on his side.

“Is it…Is it really you?” The man whispered as his brown eyes studied every inch of Aphrodite’s features.

The goddess had no words; she could not seem to muster any coherent word just by staring at the beauty in front of her.

“It’s me,” she whispered back.

And as she felt his weak hand grip her waist a little tighter, she could feel the familiar heat return to her body once again, and it only made her crave more of him.