Cry of Cassandra

3 | Apollo

I tapped my fingers across the solid golden marble table before me, carefully carved with each god or goddess' picture where we always sat, depictions of our greatest triumphs and symbols surrounding each face.  I lazily traced a carving of me slaying a fearsome snake, competing with Poseidon for Hestia's hand, gaining my powers; all carved out of sapphires and citrines by Hephaestus. 

I was bored.  Everything was always the same up here on Mount Olympus; the jealousy, the feuds, the greed.

Every.  Single.  Time.  

I sat in the same golden throne I always did, generously embedded with the same fire opals, the same sun stones and the same amber, a velvet burnt-orange cushion generously filled with the same usual white crow's down.  I listened to the same gods and goddesses tell the same stories in the same exact way. I let out a quiet sigh, little more than a puff of air.

Olympus was officially boring, I thought to myself, drumming my fingers along the table as I let out another tiny sigh.

I had done everything and been every where there was to do and be here.  It was to be expected of a deity my age, I suppose.  I wondered what the older ones like Zeus and Poseidon did...Hades, of course, was rarely seen up here on Olympus.  I couldn't blame him with the way the other Gods and Goddesses would ramble on about the same story again and again.

Hades and Hestia were the only two Gods that tended to keep to themselves more than anything else, much to the other's derision.  

Every time Hades would visit, usually having been dragged along by his wife, Zeus and Poseidon would preen, rubbing his face in how they were the respective rulers of the skies and oceans, while Hades merely ruled the dead.  He would merely send the a small, secretive smile, infuriating them, ruby-red eyes twinkling in amusement as he smoothed a hand over his midnight-black beard, seemingly a poor attempt to cover his humor at their words.

I had always felt that Hades was the strongest of the three, but was happy where he was.  If he had truly cared, I'm certain he could have easily overthrown his brothers, rather than listen to them bragging of the powers and conquests.

Hestia rarely visited, preferring to keep to herself, tending the hearth with a cup of tea and a good scroll at hand. Every time she visited, Aphrodite would moan about how she could be so beautiful if only she did something with her hair and clothes.

Hestia would merely send her an indulgent smile, eventually letting Aphrodite give her a makeover, only for her to abandon the new look on her return home.  I didn't blame Hestia, she was beautiful as she was.

She had unruly mahogany waves, that seemed to come alive most when she was curled up with a scroll or tablet, a steaming mug of chamomile tea resting on the mahogany table next to her as she reclined. by the fireplace.  The shadows leaving the brown hair to appear darker, like fresh ink, while the fire would bring out the auburn, gold, and copper highlights.  Her amber eyes, large and Doe-like, would gain flecks of gold in the fire's light, the preferred grey of her robes perfectly contrasting with her tan skin.  She had even been courted by Poseidon and myself, once upon a time.

Bored, I thought it would be amusing to see what the mortals on earth were doing.  The ancient one, Helios, could easily do my work for one moon's time.

I decided to see what was happening around Troy as I hadn't been there in a long while. 

I landed by the river Scamander, where a minor river god guarded a small plot of land jealously, immediately changing to my favorite human form without a thought.  I had selected a form before leaving Olympus, making it a simple task - it  seemed to be a general favorite of the ladies, always a plus.

I was now tall, at over seven feet, with broad shoulders and a lean waist.  My hair was wavy and a dark, rich copper, with hints of blonde and gold no matter the light - one of the perks of being a God.  My eyes were the color of the Aegean sea, my skin a light bronze.  I had chosen peasants garb the moment.  Sensing someone coming from the Trojan palace, I made myself invisible.

After a few minutes, I saw a young woman slowly make her way down the hills of Troy to the river unescorted, eventually emerging from behind a grove of lemon and orange trees. 

She reeked of royalty, yet she didn't act like one.  Intrigued, I drew closer to her pink garbed form, curious.  

Then, my breath hitched.

A/N: what do you think happens next?

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