A new year had come.
And the celebrations were just beginning.
Music echoed through the main foyer of my mother's palace as we watched the auditions for those wanting to take part in the events. A band was playing on one side of the room, one we'd already booked a whole year in advance. Drums played in rapid succession, strings plucked in sharp time, a tambourine jingling enthusiastically, followed by a DJ who was working with exotic sound effects that added a modern twist to ancient tunes.
Meanwhile, a few belly dancers were practicing on the other side of the room, shaking their hips and twirling their bodies in ways that made mine ache at the thought of making an attempt. A few flexible individuals were showing them up by bending themselves into pretzels and knots. The act that currently had my mother's attention captured was a beautiful muscular male bending backwards from a gold pole in the center of the room, his body arched back while a katana sword was in his mouth.
The festivities were grand and already in motion, for the new year was a massive celebration for my people. The introduction of a new year meant changes; it meant a fresh start, new beginnings, new goals. Basically, new year-new me was the motto of the celebration.
I glanced sideways at my mother where she was perched elegantly in her seat, her body angled forward to show interest in the male, who shot toward the floor with the sword in his mouth, only to stop a good inch from it, narrowly avoiding impalement, which only made my mother's dark skin speckle with goosebumps of excitement.
Somehow, I doubted she was interested in this male for his abilities, but I kept that to myself, knowing she'd smack me if I said anything.
But, my mother was a grown beautiful goddess, she was free to do as she pleased.
I just wished she didn't do it in front of me all the time.
The goddess Nephthys was also the goddess of death. She was a proud and beautiful goddess, on the petite side, with dark mocha skin and black hair she currently had styled in tiny braids that she wore hoisted up in a long ponytail down her back. She wore a white crop top with long transparent sleeves and high-waisted black jeans with a pair of spiked white heels. Her makeup was always done to perfection with sharp winged eyeliner that went both ways, heavy dark eyelashes, gold and blue eyeshadow that set off her fiery colored eyes, dark perfectly done eyebrows.
She brought a whole new meaning to makeup in our world. Even her own sister coveted her abilities.
"Wonderful! Bravo!" I snapped out of my stupor to see she'd risen to her feet to clap her hands. I rose with her, clapping automatically as well. The male swung his sword out and bowed very low, a sign of ultimate respect that seemed to butter my mother up even more as a smile spread across her red lips.
"And your name, youngling?" She asked. The male rose, but only enough so that he could look upon us with reverence.
"Amonon, your Majesties. I am absolutely honored to have entertained you. It is my hope that you will choose me to join you in celebration of the new year to come," he said, his voice a deep rumbling baritone that made my mother smile. I expected her to extend an invitation to her quarters later tonight, to further inspect his skills, as she told two other performers earlier in the day. But much to my horror, she turned to smile at me secretly.
"I don't know, what do you think, darling?" She asked. I tensed, feeling a wave of embarrassment that she'd turn this on me. She wasn't doing this out of some pure feelings of hiring the male. Good gods, she was trying to get me to invite him into my bed. I cleared my throat, retaining some semblance of professionalism as I faced the entertainer and inclined my head.
YOU ARE READING
The Broken Soldier (malexmale)
RomanceHe is the god of battle. And yet, he feels powerless. He is a tired, weary soldier with a heart made of glass. He will do anything to make those around him happy, do anything to make them look at him with a modicum of respect. Even if it means playi...