The Mortal God

"I have no jar of sweet honey between my arms," I murmured, my voice soft, "No shy lamb trailing innocently behind me. I offer to you, Queen of the Gods, only what I owe as of now: my mind, and my body."
As if my blood could become ambrosia, and she could see her beloved moon in the grey of my eyes, and not a general's blood dirtying my royalty.
A whisper of the night breeze brushed my name on my skin.
Arke Basileus.
And yet, none had spoken.

~~~~~~~

A pair of silver eyes crinkle at the moon, and shadowy fingers start untangling the golden thread, as fresh as youth.
It is said no man can escape from the Moires; not even princes of Arcadia, not even the Queen of the Gods.
And when Eros shoots his silver arrow, they will glimpse Fate's face.

(Cover found on Pinterest. Rights go to the author of the drawing)