‘I need your help,’ Zeus said to me, violet trails dribbling into his long white beard. Despite being my junior by several centuries, he had the appearance of a stern grey-haired elder; the gods take the forms that fit them best. ‘My father, Kronos, is wicked, and he must be destroyed,’ he finished.
I laughed. ‘Kronos came to me saying much the same thing about his own father once. I wonder, when do you think one of your children will come knocking at my door?’
The jovial grin melted from Zeus’s face and his jaw hardened. Outside, storm clouds filled the once-bright sky like growing bruises, lightning threading between them. A low rumble swept over the scene. My peacocks clucked with dread and my cats hid behind the furniture, but I sat unmoving.
Zeus pushed himself out of his chair but did not step away. He loomed over me, his expression as dark as the sky. ‘Very well. If you will not assist me, at least do not hinder me. But I will not forget your insolence once I take my place as king of the gods.’
‘Give your wife Hera my regards,’ I said sweetly.
Zeus stormed out of the seaside house in every sense of the word. Rain and lightning lashed the sky.
One day my friend Zephyrus blew into my house, wild-eyed as he shared the news that Zeus emerged victorious from his battle with Kronos. He’d exiled his father and formed a new seat of power on Mount Olympus.
Those who had served Zeus faithfully were rewarded with places as members of the Dodekatheon, the pantheon of the twelve gods. There were only five at the time, but Zeus was certain he could fill the remaining seats quite handily. The elder gods who opposed him would henceforth be known only as Titans. It was a cunning name: grand enough that none to whom it applied could complain, and yet one that set them apart from the new gods. Zeus would deal with each individual Titan differently; those who defied him would be exiled or destroyed, while others would be allowed to persist in some diminished capacity.
After his victory, Zeus went down to the deep sea, where the blood of his grandfather Ouranos had fermented for centuries. Through the alchemy of the ocean and his own divine magic, the severed parts of the primordial god became something beautiful and new. Zeus whispered instructions to the deity who took shape from that ancient crime, telling her who she was and what sort of power she would wield. She would eventually join the Dodekatheon on the peaks of Olympus, but she needed to find someone first.
She drifted with the tides for a while, startling the schools of brightly coloured fish who were the only witnesses to her brief divine childhood. She watched the swaying fields of seaweed and grew out her hair until it was long enough to match. Shekicked her way towards the glittering water’s surface with limbs that had knitted themselves into long and shapely legs, and with her first breath of air she whispered her own name: Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty.
Aphrodite made her way to the island of Cyprus and stepped out of the sea. It was night, and the beach glowed white beneath the light of the full moon. Undulating hills mimicked the curves of a woman’s hip, and the scent of jasmine floated on the night breeze. I’m sure Aphrodite imagined that there would be attendant nymphs waiting for her with linen garments and scatters of rose petals, perhaps musicians softly strumming their instruments in the moonlight. Instead there was only me, bearing a cloth and a particularly miserable expression.
Not bothering to disguise her disappointment, Aphrodite took the cloth from me and used it to dry her damp hair, careless of her nudity. When she was done, she considered me. ‘You must be my new servant.’
I said nothing. Like the other elder gods, I had to accept my place in Zeus’s new order, however much it rankled.
Aphrodite continued. ‘It’s Zeus’s will that we share influence over the realms of desire and beauty, though I’ll be taking the lion’s share, of course. It seems you defied him once, so he decided to make his own love god. Youmustunderstand.’ She smiled in a way that might drive other gods wild with passion but left me feeling vaguely nauseous.
I remained silent.
Aphrodite wrapped the towel around her head and placed her hands on her hips as she considered me, moonlight gilding her naked body. She took a step towards me, then another, close enough that I could feel her breath like the hot night air. I could smell her skin, touched only by water and moonlight,begging for other caresses. I was not sure whether she would kiss me or eat me alive.
As it transpired, she did neither. Instead, Aphrodite brought her mouth close to the shell of my ear, and whispered, ‘Zeus believes that familial ties ensure harmony. I think he wants me to make a marriage alliance with you.’
Terror sunk its claws into my heart. Aphrodite stepped back suddenly, leaving me swaying into the space she left. ‘But if you’ll forgive me for saying so, I’d prefer a less miserable spouse.’ Her laughter was light and musical. ‘I think I’ll adopt you as my son instead.’
My lip curled. ‘I am not your son.’
‘Oh, but you are now,’ she said. ‘Unless, of course, you want to face the wrath of the Thunderer.’
All the air had drained from my lungs, and I found myself friendless in the shadow of a tyrant. Though I was older, my strength was no match for that of Zeus. Rumours had reached me about the fate of Nereus, the old Titan sea god who had protested the claiming of his ocean realm by Zeus’s brother Poseidon. Zeus’s lightning bolts had scorched Nereus so thoroughly that the sea god fell into charred ashes. Lacking the strength to maintain his physical form, Nereus dissolved into the waves that had once been his home. Now he existed only in clusters of sea-foam and the flow of tides, and no longer knew his own name.
Aphrodite was new to the world but wily. She knew that the threat of Zeus’s wrath might have compelled me to this beach, but it would not ensure my compliance for the rest of eternity. So she tried another strategy.
‘Something new is coming, you know,’ she said conspiratorially. ‘Zeus told me about it. It’s called humanity, a race of mortals to entertain and worship us. Won’t that be such fun?’
I felt a flicker of curiosity. Gods love nothing more thannovelty, and being the object of worship sounded intriguing. Seeing her chance, Aphrodite added, ‘If you’re not interested, I suppose I could ask Zeus to assign you to a different god. I’m sure Hestia wouldlovehaving someone to help her tidy the house.’
I couldn’t have that. I knelt and offered fealty to Aphrodite at once. And as I did, I dreamed of small ways to revenge myself against the Olympians.
I was always careful throughout the intervening centuries. I never broke my promises and nothing could ever be traced back to me with any degree of certainty. But I found certain ways to resist my subjugation.
For a goddess of love, Aphrodite was remarkably unlucky in matters of the heart. My so-called mother was married to the ugly blacksmith god Hephaestus – a hasty move on Zeus’s part when the competition for her hand threatened to turn to bloodshed. But Aphrodite fell in love with the handsome war god Ares, and had more than a few other affairs besides. They all ended poorly.
Zeus, king of the gods, experienced similar ill fortune. His endless affairs incensed his wife, Hera, who could hardly keep track of all the nymphs and goddesses he bedded. Yet he couldn’t seem to help himself. I suppose he told himself that sensual indulgences were the prerogative of a king. Zeus liked to believe that he controlled his appetites, even when all evidence suggested it was the other way around.
I gave no hint of my role in all this, and kept my arrows close. I had learned from Kronos and Gaia what a double-edged sword love could be, and I did not hesitate to use it for my own purposes when the situation demanded.
If love was a weapon, I would wield it well.
