Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales again. This week I`ll be sharing an excerpt from my WIP (Work In Progress) Love of the Hunter, an M/M mythological romance.
In today`s excerpt we first meet our storyteller, Apollo, son of Zeus and Leto. In this retelling of the legend of Orion, we discover that Apollo is being mentored by the Titan sun god, Helios, who hates the golden son of Zeus deeply.
This week our word prompt is ‘Court’. Since this is a rough draft there may be some mistakes. I do apologize for any boo-boo you may find.
Please do check out the other wonderful writers after you`re done reading by clicking on the Tuesday Tales link at the bottom. Thanks for stopping in!
My name is Phoebus Apollo. I am the son of Zeus and Leto, born on the isle of Delos a few moments after my twin sister, Artemis. I am as old as time yet as young as a breaking dawn. I am immortal. I am godhead. I am divine. I am alone.
I have been called “the most Greek of the gods” but I do not feel it. Most days I look down upon my thin arms and gangly legs in disgust. I cannot pass a pool without stopping to see if I am older, even by another day. But no, I am as I am. Young and beautiful, trapped in this golden form that so entices and bewitches. Anger flares through me upon seeing my reflection. What unjust fate is it that keeps me from being a bearded warrior like Ares?
I tire of always appearing to be a fey youth. Why can I not be a man in body as well as action? Was it not I who slew the great dragon of Delphi with a hundred arrows at four days of age? When will my chest broaden? When will my voice deepen? When will I look the god that I am?! When will I be treated as the chosen bringer of light and not the apprentice, the fledgling, the youthful romantic? The answer to those queries is, "never”.
Is it the unkind touch of Hera upon me that keeps me in such a boyish form? All who sit in the court of Olympus know the hatred she has for my sister and me. I despair of ever growing older. I despise my reflection. I reach out to slap my face in the cold water. The ripples flare out from my divine touch. When the pool stills I see not myself but the young man I loved and killed. His name is a mere whisper of pain upon my tongue. Never shall I feel for another as I did for Hyacinthus.
I move from the wooded glen and the image of my lover in the water. My bare feet carry me silently and swiftly through the trees that surround the home of Helios. I have been here on this mountain for a long time. My father, seeking to bring back the one who delights those upon Olympus with his golden prose, sent me here to learn the ways of the Titan. One day, Zeus proclaims, I shall be known as the God of Light and Sun. I do not wish to be anything but what I am. I wish only to be left alone, to hunt with my sister when she visits me here, and to recall the feel of my lover`s mouth under mine.
Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
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