Iris gazed at His Majesty the God-King, who was playing chase with Atlas's daughters. That mighty, beloved figure wove through the temple, and every "capture" drew a chorus of bell-like cries and girlish laughter.
Her bright, gentle smile still bloomed on her face, yet deep in those prismatic eyes a faint shadow of thought flickered, and she sighed softly within.
She too wished she could, like the purification goddess Amaltheia, serve His Majesty in simple, guileless devotion.
But at the pinnacle of cosmic power, where could there be true simplicity?
Mortals say three women make a play.
In this Olympian temple, two goddesses are enough to stage an earth-shaking drama.
Let alone the fact that there are more than a dozen close-attendant goddesses in constant service at His Majesty's side.
And that's not counting those exalted, high-ranking goddesses who often monopolize His time.
Right before her stood Atlas's daughters: the seven Pleiades and the five Hyades, twelve nymph-princesses in all.
They were true sisters by blood, already close and united—far more so than unrelated gods.
Most of them were lively and sweet-tempered, kind of heart, and highly beloved by His Majesty.
Yet even so, these twelve sisters still could not avoid a few petty tensions; now and then they, too, tripped each other up a bit, vying for more of His favor.
If blood sisters were thus, what hope for her and her sister Arke—two "outsiders" of distant stock?
Before His Majesty, on the surface, everyone naturally appeared to be getting along—"you're good, I'm good, we're all good"—a picture of harmony, one big family.
But under that close-knit facade, how could there not be undercurrents?
If the ever gentle and virtuous Clymene were not there to keep order among the goddesses,
and Maia, most elegant and dignified and most beloved of His Majesty, did not smooth things with such care,
it was doubtful they could even maintain this thin skin of friendliness.
Who knew what bullying she and her sister might suffer?
Leave aside those who dreamed of bearing His Majesty's children.
Just goddesses who still fancied the idea of becoming His sacred wife were more than you could count on one hand.
His Majesty's heart was vast.
It was a boundless cosmos that held three realms and three domains and all living things.
Naturally, it could also hold these tiny, love-struck goddesses.
But however large His heart, the very core—the warmest, softest place—was limited.
How much space one could claim there, and for how long—
that depended on one's own ability.
For her own sake, for that unborn child still in the realm of nothing, and for her house's future,
how could she not fight?
How dare she not?
Even as His Majesty's goddesses, their ranks still differed as heaven from earth.
Even as His Majesty's children, once born, the authority and honor they enjoyed were worlds apart.
Look at the greatest goddesses above and below!
They still stake everything and even come to blows for more of His favor.
If minor attendants like herself, who were never especially conspicuous in His Majesty's harem, truly played the immortal, aloof fairy—silent as falling petals, contending with no one—
then they would gain nothing at all.
In the end, their favor would run dry; they would be forgotten in some corner of the temple, fading into a wisp of soul no one in the cosmos remembered.
And besides…
Setting aside all this heavy web of interest and family duty—what goddess did not long for more of His Majesty's love?
Who did not wish that the universe's warmest, fiercest gaze could rest more often on her alone?
Iris watched in silence that supreme figure, all strength and laughter. In the still depths of her eyes, too, burned an utterly sincere, blazing admiration and love.
The temple was full of the finest goddesses and nymphs, but in fairness, judged by beauty alone, His Majesty outshone them all—heroic and breathtaking.
Even without factoring in power, He was still the most compelling presence.
This God-King of supreme cosmic law, Lord of all "nothing" and "something," was flawless from within and without, beyond reproach.
Tall and powerfully built, strong-jawed and handsome, his pure golden hair shone with holy light, and his sharp golden eyes glittered.
His bearing was imperious and domineering, yet also warm and cheerful—two utterly different airs fused perfectly in him.
His vast, towering divinity had a pull stronger than a black hole, and a breadth of embrace greater than a white hole—he drew every gaze as if by law.
He laughed loud in the midst of play, wearing the warmest, most disarming smile. That matchless smile alone was enough to make one's cheeks burn and one's very divine body go weak.
His Majesty was the eternal Sovereign, the all-powerful Lord; the God of gods, Father of all souls; and also an eternal peerless youth (the author quietly adds: and an eternally pure bride-to-be).
In all this cosmos, how could there be any goddess who did not love this brightest, greatest Lord?
To be wrapped, filled, and flooded—from divinity to flesh, inside and out—by His supreme, blazing, boundless nature…
That sense of one's entire spirit sinking into the hottest, deepest wellspring of life, there to melt and ascend…
Taste it once, and you can never go back.
Before that eternal sun, every wavering candle was pitiful and hardly worth mention.
"Got you!"
His Majesty's rich, magnetic laugh rang out; the last moment of the game had come.
The final "lucky one" caught by the God-King was the youngest of the seven Pleiades, and widely acknowledged as the most sultry, alluring of them all—Merope.
Save for her age, nothing about this little goddess was "small." When the second-to-last goddess was caught, she became the game's overall victor.
With a delighted, sultry cry, she ran straight into His Majesty's arms amid her sisters' envious stares.
Those crystal lips, tinted like blue-white light, did not hold back; indeed, she even flaunted herself a little.
She planted them firmly, precisely, and hard upon the lips of the god she loved.
And that was not all.
Those nimble red petals, showing no trace of modesty, pried at the God-King's already loose defenses with fiery enthusiasm.
She gave all the sweetness and heat she had, as if she wanted to melt her entire godhood into His mighty body.
This wild, ardent display finally called Iris's wandering thoughts home.
She watched Merope drape herself temptingly over His Majesty and, deep inside, spat in fierce disdain:
"Slut."
Of course, inwardly she was very jealous.
After all, to make the game more fun, and to encourage the goddesses to hide themselves properly,
His Majesty had set the prize for the last to be caught as—
a private, one-on-one, all-night deep "training session" in divine power with Him!
Plus one small but absolutely guaranteed wish.
So long as it was not too outrageous, it would be granted!
That wish could even be saved up.
With enough wins, many small wishes could add up to one big one.
Now and then, if His Majesty was in particularly high spirits, there might even be a surprise gift.
Such heavy stakes were His Majesty's only way.
Otherwise this game of hide-and-seek would become a dull exercise in "throwing oneself into the net."
Every little goddess would only fight to dive into His arms. Where would the fun of pursuit be?
And chase was what His Majesty loved best.
He truly was hopeless.
Iris watched Merope, now soft as spring water and practically melting in His Majesty's embrace, and judged that the time was about right. She glided forward on light steps.
With subtle ease and the gentlest yet irresistible touch, she slipped that clinging vine of lips and tongue out from His Majesty's arms.
Her smile was tender as water, the beauty of the rainbow in full bloom; her voice, soft and musical:
"Your Majesty, my younger sister from the Pontus line, Absu Naya, daughter of Phorcys, seems to have unwittingly committed a grave error and disturbed the Order."
"She is torn with remorse and filled with fear. She waits now at the foot of the temple-mountain, begging only to plead her guilt before You."
Iris dipped in a slight bow, her phrasing flawless:
"Only, the matter is somewhat delicate and seems… to involve Her Graces the Sovereign of Civilization and Memory and Calliope. It does seem weighty."
"With rights and wrongs entwined so confusingly, she truly did not dare trouble Lady Themis for a fair ruling; thus Iris has taken the liberty of disturbing Your Majesty."
"Your Majesty, what do You think…"
Zeus only smiled lightly. Those all-seeing eyes flicked over Iris once, and He said in a soft voice:
"Let her in."
His tone was mild, yet carried a hint of soothing reassurance:
"A fault of no ill intent is no great crime."
Then, as if his interest were piqued, He added with a playful smile:
"Oh my, I wonder what world-shaking crime such a little inner-sea girl could commit?"
"That she doesn't dare to seek judgment from my dearest, most just Themis, but circled round to come directly to Me instead."
Iris, still perfectly compliant, shook her head gently and smiled.
"Your Majesty is wise. Iris dares not say more; it is best she tell You herself."
"Whatever wrong she has committed, all shall be judged by Your Majesty."
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