Raven never knew what hit him. He went up, up, up, arms and legs flailing in flight. Then he crashed all the way to the first floor where he tumbled ass-over-tea-kettle and lay on the hard stone groaning. His body screamed out in pain and indignant shock even as he stared up at his Father looming at the top of the stairs just waiting for Raven to give him another excuse for violence. With his bones rattling and cracking, Raven dragged himself to his feet to stand unsteadily and slowly bring his strange eyes upward to meet his Father’s gaze. “You feel better now?” Raven shook his head. “Goddamn that hurts!”
“Does it? My and you’re half Olympian, think of how your Mother felt,” Ares fumed. “Next time I won’t pull any punches.”
“I can handle anything Zeus or you or any of them can throw at me,” Raven strongly challenged.
“Overconfidence leads to destruction; these Trials are no game, boy. Your Grandfather wants you dead and right now so do I.”
Chapter Six
The Festivities
I
Hera spent days planning the festivities which would herald Raven’s Coming of Age; she wanted everything to be perfect for the occasion. After all, there hadn’t been a Bacchanalia like this one since she set Hercules about his Labors to prove his worthiness to sit at the Counsel Table. Although she’d been rather pissed off at Hercules passing all twelve Labors, Hera was looking forward to the day when Raven took his place among the Olympians and had no doubt the boy would do whatever it took to accomplish that.
Since it had been so incredibly long since such a momentous event took place on Olympus, she decided to forgo the use of her Magick, preferring instead to get her hands dirty and her back sore. To that end, the smile on her classically beautiful face matched the gleam in Zeus’ Dining Hall, which shone from golden ceiling to golden floor, covered in colorful soft pillows just right for falling down anywhere the body desired to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh.
Suspended high above them, several hundred candles floated in the air, lending their romantic glow to the gold walls and leather seated swings hanging from the ceiling. Off to the left stood the massive gold and white marble hearth with its engraved laurels, lighting bolts, Muses, Graces, and more images of couples engaged in various heated sexual positions than the Karma Sutra would ever know. It burned brightly and with much heat, the last thing Hera wanted for those in naked sweaty attendance tonight was to be cold. On either side of the blazing fire sat two long sturdy tables covered with flowing lengths of red silk. Beneath the soft cloth lay every imaginable sex toy one could ever want, from dildos to vibrators to butt plugs to chains, whips, leather masks, strap-ons, cuffs of every variety; hand, wrist, throat, or full shackles encompassing wrists, throat, and ankles. Exotic oils in finely cut crystal bottles sat just waiting to have their contents massaged into the flesh or worked into tender holes to ease passage while letting out the intoxicating scents of patchouli, sandalwood, and dragon’s blood.
In front of the fire, perched on a two-step pedestal of white marble, sat an ornate gold chair with a plush red velvet cushion. This was Raven’s Seat of Honor; he would sit here and they would wait on his every whim throughout the night.
On the other side of the room sat the grand white marble table with its heavy legs carved into fierce lion heads set for ten. It brimmed with delectable treats that were heedless of Mortal concerns as fat and calories. As always, there was more than enough food to keep one of Ares’ Armies gorged for days. There were gigantic bowls of Antipasto overflowing their rims placed at evenly spaced intervals upon the table. Accompanying them were large bowls of truffles, feta cheese, grape and cabbage leaves stuffed with rice, raw oysters on the half-shell, fat ripe olives, tarmasalata dip to go with the garlic and parmesan pita chips and tzatziki sauce along with other golden bowls filled with avocados and almonds, figs, and dates stuffed with walnuts and rolled in sugar. Other platters dripped with garlic and feta stuffed bread, meatballs in a heady red sauce, anchovies and sardines. That was just the appetizers; the main course would consist of several traditional Greek delicacies: Souvlaki, Octopodi Kraselo, Galeos me Skordala, and Mousakka. For dessert there would be Ravari, Halvas, Galatoboureko, Baklava, Galatobeliko, and, of course, mountains of chocolate. Accompanying each solid gold place setting was a sturdy solid gold chalice ready to be filled with Nectar or, the preferred beverage of the night, Tou Krasiou tou Dionysou—the Wine of Dionysus.
Satisfied that no one would leave here hungry come dawn, Hera smiled at her hard work and felt energized even if she hadn’t cooked the food herself. Such mundane tasks were relegated to the Graces but Hera, Goddess of Women and Marriage, oversaw every tiny detail and did do most of the cleaning herself.
“I don’t know why you’ve gone to so much trouble,” Zeus bitched as he walked into the room. “Raven will never pass his Trials.”
Hera turned around to face her Husband, batting her lashes at the old fool. “Raven will pass and even if he doesn’t, tonight is still special. Tonight he becomes a man.”
“What kind of man? That, my dear Wife, is the real question.” He gazed around at the shining room with all of its offerings for the night ahead, both seen and unseen. “Personally, I think you’re just looking forward to getting laid.”
“Some of us aren’t dead yet,” Hera retorted without turning around to look at her Husband with whom she hadn’t engaged in sexual relations in more than five hundred years.
Ever present Staff in hand, Zeus leaned on it slightly as he made his way down the three small steps into the room and then over to Hera’s side. “Going to take the young stud on yourself? Thinking about getting stuffed with an untested cock?”
Now Hera did turn to look at Zeus, she looked him up and down from the hem of flowing white robes to the white hairs on the top of his old head. “Jealous?” she snorted. “Raven is quite handsome in case you didn’t notice.”
“Even Athena has taken note of Raven’s sultry pull,” Zeus scoffed, not liking the dark gleam in his Wife’s eye. “I wouldn’t if I were you; Ares is bound to take offense at Raven sliding in and out of you.”
“Then, perhaps tonight, I will have them both. Just to soothe any tension my Son may feel.” Hera threw her head back and laughed. Even the Goddess of the Gods wasn’t immune to the wickedly wonderful thought of being sandwiched between Ares and Raven. Tonight she could have it without regret or that nagging human emotion that sometimes tugged at her heart called guilt.
“You wish,” Zeus whispered in her ear, “I think the two of them would be the death of you.”
Hera quivered and let out a deep sigh. “But what a way to go.”
“You still have the soul of a whore.”
“Thanks for noticing,” she tittered and walked away from her Husband with an extra wiggle in her full hips, feeling the weight of Zeus’ appreciative stare on her backside.
II
Promptly at 7 o’clock, just as the last of the sun’s rays began fading past Mount Olympus for the day, all of the Olympians gathered in the Dining Hall of Zeus’ Grand Palace ready for a long hot night ahead. Tonight, they cared not for Raven’s Trials and whether he became a full-fledged Olympian, they were only interested in greedily gorging their bellies on the scrumptious treats until they burst and indulging their loins until they could burst no more. Rare nights like this reminded all of them of glorious days long past them. Days when they ruled a good chunk of this world, times when the Mortals bowed and proclaimed them Gods and Kings with all of the trappings suited to them.
Hades and Poseidon were the first to arrive, each preferring to be early rather than late. After them came Athena, then Apollo, Hunter, and Aphrodite who was probably the most excited of all for the night ahead. The Goddess of Love was absolutely aglow with raw anticipation that she made no attempt to hide. Not that she could hide anything below the iridescent gossamer drape of cloth wrapping solely around her breasts and between the folds of her legs. Not that it did any good at preserving her modes
ty.
Eros entered the room with an unexpected and uninvited guest; Onya. All turned to see the Mortal Woman accompanying the God of Love, they stumbled to greet her warmly even as their eyes quizzed Eros. Being the ever gracious host, Hera spoke first and even held her hands out to the new arrival. “Hello, Onya, how nice of you to join this evening.” With a quick embrace of their hands, the brush of skin against skin confirmed the trepidation Hera saw in Onya’s eyes. “Come in, eat, drink, and enjoy yourself.” Catching Thalia’s attention, Hera quietly ordered another place be set at the table. The Grace who brought Good Cheer to All wandered swiftly off to comply with her Mistress’ order.
Onya’s heart fluttered. She’d spent years on Olympus and in the company of the Gods but never in a social manner, and certainly not with all of these gorgeous naked women milling about. This was altogether unnerving. “Thank you…Your Majesty?”
“Hera, my dear, my name is Hera.” While her voice was warm and soothing, her peacock eyes shot daggers at her oldest Grandson who knew the Mortal woman wouldn’t be altogether welcome here tonight. At least not by the Olympian females.
Seeing new adventures for the night ahead, the males began prowling forward to greet her, appraise her, and then tell her how they were looking forward to the evening. Their eyes alight with erotic thoughts and their mouths watering as they spoke. A chance at, what was technically still one of Ares’ women, was a rare thing. Except for Apollo who used to like to frequent Ares’ island while his Brother was away but he hadn’t been bold enough to take this one. The one that Ares called his Little One was the favorite of all his women other than Alena. Until tonight, just touching her could have swiftly resulted in the loss of a hand or an arm.
Suffering the insult of watching the males who were fawning over her now throw themselves at Onya’s feet, Aphrodite pushed her way into the center of the gathering crowd of salivating males. Looking over her bare shoulder at her Son, Eros, she shot him a disapproving glance silently asking why he’d brought the little Mortal woman here tonight. “Move away from her boys, there’ll be plenty to go around later.”
Onya slipped her arm around Eros’ bare waist but Eros did not return the gesture, instead he smiled and laughed. Withdrawing her arm, Onya’s eyes cast down to the marble floor at her feet to catch her reflection in the highly polished stone. A frown crossed her lips and creased her brow when she found she didn’t like the image of the woman staring back at her.
Eros, already vigorously geared up for the lusty night ahead, missed his cues but Aphrodite didn’t. The Goddess of Love shook her head and went to speak but a shadow in the open doorway caught her piercing eyes. The sight stunned her tongue and the others in the room as another guest not on the evening’s list fluttered his translucent black wings in the threshold of the door.
“Good evening, everyone,” the King of Dreams intoned cheerfully as he floated over the threshold of the large hall relishing the dazed looks on all of their faces. The others always tried to dismiss him, they tried not to look at him not just out of the repulsion brought to their divine eyes by his physical form but because they feared that he would see their true thoughts behind the guise of their veiled eyes. He had to power to influence their dreams, to bring them nightmares so vivid they woke in cold sweats with their hearts pounding like a pagan drum. Or, he could give them the sweetest of fantasies, also causing them to wake bathed in sweat with hearts pounding but in a much more pleasurable manner. Either way, when they slept, Morpheus had the power to influence their thoughts and that was something no other God could claim. Therefore, they kept him at arm’s length at all times.
Zeus leaned into to catch his Wife’s ear and grumbled, “What’s he doing here?”
“I didn’t invite him,” Hera whispered back before turning to face the new guest. “Morpheus, how good to see you again.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Morpheus returned with an underlying sneer. “I’m also sure my invitation was, how do they Mortals put it? Ah, lost in the mail?”
Momentarily flustered by his directness, Hera blushed and felt her heart race as her mind scrambled for a polite explanation. Batting her peacock eyes at him and offering up her words in an apologetic tone, “I didn’t think you’d want to attend seeing as you’re…um…well,” weakly she gestured to his transparent form knowing he would be unable to engage in the night’s festivities here in the corporeal world. “Please forgive me and do come in, join us. I meant no offense.”
“You are ever the gracious hostess.” Morpheus plucked a chalice of Nectar from a silver tray carted around by a naked Muse. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. No, not for anything and I have the most wonderful little gift for our guest of honor.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” Morpheus whispered, “I’m sure Raven will love it.”
“No, wait,” Zeus called out as Hera began guiding Morpheus toward the group. “No weapons allowed in here tonight,” he pointed a stern aged finger at the two pouches of dream dust hanging from Morpheus’ slim waist by a fine golden chain.
“Weapons?” Morpheus mused as he looked down at his constant companions. “How can you consider these weapons? They’re only dreams.”
“Leave them outside the door if you want to join the party,” Zeus replied in tone with much authoritative finality. He wasn’t about to risk Morpheus sprinkling that crap on them while they were in the lustful throes of passion. He’d put them all to sleep, at the same time, in the same place, and only the Gods themselves knew what Morpheus would be capable of then. “Outside.”
“As you wish, Lord Zeus,” Morpheus sighed as he dismissed the leather pouches from his waist to leave them outside the open door as required. “Better?”
“No, you’re still here, but it’ll do.” With the great staff in his hand, Zeus motioned for Morpheus and Hera to continue forward and join them.
While they ate and drank, the Muses danced and played their hypnotic music while the Graces wandered around with heavy trays of food. All of them with their delicate female form just as naked as the day they were born, unashamed and natural as the sun as they awaited their own part in the night to come. Hunter was dissatisfied with the lack of attention he was given and he pushed his way into the middle of the gathered Olympians to make an announcement, one his Mother told him to keep quiet about; “The retard spoke for her whore Mother today.”
Apollo choked on his mouthful of stuffed grape leaf, Zeus spat out a hefty spray of Nectar and the others turned white. Hunter was very pleased at their reactions to his bombshell.
Wiping drops of Nectar from his silky white beard, Zeus looked down at Hunter. “What did you say boy? Are you making this up?”
“No!” Hunter protested as planted one hand on his hip and stamped his foot to point at Onya, “Ask her, she was there.” The small boy watched as his oldest Brother, Eros, turned to Onya who cast her eyes to the floor when he asked why she hadn’t said anything to him.
“Is it true?” Eros asked the woman who’d been his companion for nearly five years. She didn’t answer him, she kept her eyes looking at the floor as her face reddened. “Whose woman are you? Mine or his?” Again, she didn’t answer. Angry at her refusal to reply, Eros looked down at his Brother. “What else?”
Now that they were enrapt and he had their full attention, Hunter didn’t hesitate to tell all that he had seen and heard in Ares’ bedroom earlier in the day. “She talked Fae Talk, I din’t understand but I guess she don’t want Raven to be an Olympian, she wants Ares to stop him.”
The others gasped at the news of Dark Fae Magick working itself on Mount Olympus, Morpheus showed a bit of curiosity. “Really, Rose spoke Gaelic? How interesting,” Morpheus nodded as he reached out for a raw clam on the half-shell. “What, exactly, did she say through the baby?” He’d had the sneaking suspicion the little Fey in his bed knew she wasn’t dead. Alena knew her body was very much alive and so was the baby Morpheus claimed Ares killed. For how long he didn’t know b
ut she’d been slyly working behind his back to escape his realm. This evening when he woke and she wasn’t in his bed, he’d gone looking for her and couldn’t find her anywhere. She wasn’t even in the room where Ares’ dreams were mirrored in the Dream World. Then he heard running down the corridor and he flew back to the bedroom just ahead of her, he pretended to wake when she was at the door just to see what she would say of her whereabouts. The tray of food was a nice touch on her part. Standing there looking down at Hunter, Morpheus grinned to himself. Alena was very cunning; if he knew, Ares would be proud of her. Morpheus came here tonight, uninvited as he was, in the hopes of gathering some information and he was being bombarded with it. When he got back to the Dream World he’d have to do something about Alena who obviously stumbled across the room where her own dreams were mirrored. Before that, he needed more information.
“Yeah, pretty good too I guess, especially for a stupid retard that’s always trippin’ over her own fucked up feet,” Hunter crooned with his chubby face turned upward for them to gaze upon. Aphrodite gave him a cross-glance as she munched down on a stem of grapes. Hunter smiled knowing he pissed off his Mother and that there wasn’t anything she could do about it. “Ares talked it back for a while but then he talked English.”
“Is that all she said?” Morpheus interjected, “That she doesn’t want Raven to be an Olympian?” The news was disturbing to everyone but it left Morpheus wondering why Alena simply hadn’t told Ares where she was so that he could come rescue her. It would be a few more moments before he had his answer but it would come when Ares, Raven, and Rose made their entrance.
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