#a bit of setting the scene a bit of lore info dump plus a sprinkle of prophecy and dread

[johaerys-writes]

WIP Wednesday

I have been working on As Fate Would Have It, so here's a sneak peek from the next chapter!! We have some Thetis POV, and sort of an intro into the next arc of the story 👁👁

The nymphs’ tittering laughter echoes lightly across the beach like windchimes. Few of the oceanids are strangers to the Trojan shores—the Dardanelle straits are rich with fish, and the Trojans generous with their sacrifices—and many of them have seen Priam's sons and daughters first-hand. They know of Hector's piousness and his famed skill with spear and sword, and of his brother Paris' love of wine and women.

“Helen, Zeus' daughter, is known the world over for her beauty and her glib tongue,” Cymothoe says, her usually placid blue eyes dark like stormy seas now, “but young Paris must have grown to be handsomer and glibber still to have been able to convince her to leave behind her husband's bed and her daughter. I hear she's but a baby in the cradle.”

“Ah, but he wasn’t acting alone, my lady," Hermes says with a knowing smile. "It was—"

"Aphrodite," Thetis finishes quietly for him. "Aphrodite acted for him."

The nereid's laughter and excited chatter dies down as they all turn to stare at her. Thetis has been silent all along, frozen and numb as she listened to Hermes’ tidings, but now the words rise like waves to her lips. 

“Lady Hera, queen of the gods, and the wise Athena offered that boy power, wisdom and riches beyond counting," she continues, "but it had been Lady Aphrodite of the white sea foam that promised him Helen’s hand. Is that not so, Lord Hermes?”

The god’s winged foot, which had been tapping impatiently on the sand all the while they have been talking, now stops its ceaseless motion. His flashing coal-black eyes focus on her in a hawk-like stare. “Quite right, my lady, quite right!” he exclaims. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you know this; after all, it was at your very own wedding that the seeds of strife were first planted among the goddesses.” 

The reminder brings bitter memories to her. Thetis had been but a young goddess then, but already Zeus and Poseidon had been clamouring for years for her hand. When goddess Themis of the white hands had delivered to her the prophecy—that she would bring forth a son, of strength mightier than his father—all attempts at courting her or claiming her by force had swiftly been abandoned. No god, no man wanted a child whose fame would come to eclipse their own. 

All but one.

How small and unassuming he had seemed to her when he had arrived to the shore she dwelt, with carriages filled to the brim with precious gifts, all the wealth he had gathered after sacking the city of Iolcus. A king of men in his own right, but of modest fame, from a small kingdom. But he was favoured by Zeus, and that alone had been enough for Peleus Aeacides to summon the courage to ask for her hand. 

Thrice she had refused him, and thrice he had returned, each time bearing gifts more rare and priceless than the last. And when Zeus, the king of the gods, had made it clear that she had no other choice but to submit to the man's advances, only then had Thetis finally accepted.

The wedding had been an extravagant affair, with every god, nymph and lesser spirit bringing gifts and paying their respects, wishing them every happiness—everyone, except for Eris, goddess of strife, who never received her invitation. She had been the one to plant discord among the three goddesses, and disagreements such as these never reach a happy ending. Not for anyone.

“Menelaus," Hermes continues, "much distressed by his queen's abduction, has already sought counsel with his brother Agamemnon. Night and day they have been talking, rumour has it, and not a few of those nights have been spent with the king of Sparta crying on his poor brother's shoulder," he adds with a mocking little laugh. "But not all of this time has been spent lamenting. Atreides are a proud and stubborn folk. It is said they are preparing—” 

“War,” Thetis whispers. “A war unlike anything mortals or gods have witnessed before.”

Silence falls among the sisters. They all look at each other uneasily, the full magnitude of the situation now dawning on them. After all, they all have sons and daughters, either in Greece or Troy, that might get caught in the crossfire. The waves fall quiet, not even the sea birds along the rocks making a sound.

Hermes clears his throat. 

“Yes. Well. You are not wrong about that,” the god says, evidently miffed that Thetis stole from him the pleasure of breaking the big news to them for the second time.

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