Chapter Text
Ballister was not a bad guy. Contrary to popular belief, and as opposed to what all the other Gods thought (and what the Director had everyone believing), he really wasn’t the villain of this story. Quite the contrary. He knew there were reasons (stupid reasons if you were to ask Nimona) why the other Gods thought he was the definition of everything bad, dark and evil. That small detail of being Blackheart, God of Death and ruler of the Underworld didn’t really help matters, either (especially when everyone seemed to conveniently forget he didn't take the position willingly). He himself thought he was not so bad. He was reasonable and when he got angry it was always for a good reason, which was something a lot of other Gods couldn’t say for themselves. He didn’t fancy himself a benevolent god like Valerin, Queen of the Gods and ruler of Olympus, and he could admit to himself he was sometimes a lot to deal with. But all that did not mean he was Evil incarnate like some (the Director) would like you to believe.
He might not socialize much with the other Gods (except for the Queen and maybe even the Squire when strictly necessary) but it was better that way. They were all kind of dull, even idiotic, anyway and Blackheart was an asshole but that did not mean he wanted to engage in unnecessary strife.
So he wasn’t very sociable and spent most of his time in his Kingdom or visiting his friend, the oracle Blitzmeyer if he wasn’t overseeing business topside. And that is how he prefers it.
That does not mean however that he can’t appreciate a good party (when he's forced to attend one as may be the case). And no matter how much he and the other Gods do not get along, wine is wine and it all gets forgotten in favor of getting blackout drunk.
Which is why this year is the first time in almost 500 years that he’ll attend one of those parties, as this year’s party only happens once about every 1000 years in honor of the festival of the 'Golden Sun'. It’s a very important and unique event in honor of the All-Mother Gloreth, and so Ballister really couldn't say no without seeming suspicious. He did not want to add fuel to the fire in matters regarding his supposed dastardly plans so when it turned out it was his turn to host he had no way of getting out of it.
Ballister hated it. Divine parties tended to be rowdy affairs and he was already dreading the clean up in the aftermath of such a big and important one. A bunch of wasted and virile Gods all vying for attention could only possibly end one way.
At this time the party was already in full swing. And it was proving to be a success. Everyone who was someone was in attendance. From the lowliest satyr to the most powerful Gods in Olympus. Well, almost everyone.
Ballister was just about to pour himself some more wine and maybe go flirt a bit with a pretty redheaded music Nymph who’d been giving him sly little glances most of the evening, when he notices the Director arriving with her ‘protégé’. The Director was the Goddess of Fertility and the Harvest, which means that the man, the very attractive and unreasonably golden-glowing guy with the somewhat anxious expression, had to be the God of Spring.
Ballister knew exactly who he was, even if they had never directly interacted. It was hard to not know who he was when rumor had it he was born from one of the beams harvested from the 'Golden Sun' in one of the first festivals, and seeing as he was the God of Spring the Director had sort of adopted him.
Looking at him now Ballister thought he did look particularly Springy. Actually, if anyone were to ask him, he'd even say he'd thought it was impossible for anyone to glow so damned much.
In spite of all that, Ballister was a little bit intrigued.
As far as Ballister knew, the Director was really protective of her charge and it was very probable this was the guy’s first time at this kind of party. It was his first time partying with the big boys. Now, Ballister normally didn’t associate with the Director's circle, knowing it could only end badly for him. He went out of his way to avoid them as much as possible but there was something about this God that was calling to him. Something that told him he could prove to be excellent company. Ballister’s interest was piqued, and he was never one to swallow his curious nature.
Having made up his mind, Ballister approached the two with a casual air about him. In one hand he was holding a cup with dark red pomegranate wine, the other held a bunch of ripe sweet grapes. The Director smiled tightly as he approached them. Her lips thinned and apprehension shone in her bright kohl rimmed eyes.
"Blackheart! So nice of you to host this Golden Sun’s festival.” She said sickly sweet. “Nice party, everything looks wonderful.” Her disdain for him was obvious in her voice, and it was evident she was lying through her teeth. Of all the Gods she was probably the one that hated him the most (along with Todd, but that was a different matter altogether). After all, her job was to bring life and his was to end it. It wasn’t necessarily personal (at least on his side), but they were not very compatible. And he hadn’t really done anything to endear himself to her. Furthermore, the Golden Sun festival was part of her worship and he could see she wasn’t happy about it being hosted in the Kingdom of the dead.
Still, Ballister was nothing if not a gracious host, and he wasn’t in the mood to engage in a battle of wits with her, no matter how much he normally enjoyed them. He smiled at her and did a small courtesy. Right now, he was more interested in her companion and he figured getting her angry at him was counterproductive to his present endeavors.
“And I’m incredibly happy to have you. It’s been a long time since the last time I attended one of these delightful little events and so I thought ‘what better way to come back than to socialize a little?’ after all, it was my turn to host.” He responded cheerfully, smiling while showing all his teeth, just as Nimona had taught him.
He then turned his attention to the other God in their little group as if just then noticing his presence. “Pardon me but I believe I have never seen you in attendance of one of these before and no one has seen it fit to introduce us” he said, throwing the Director a scathing side-glance. “I am Blackheart, God of Death and ruler of the Underworld, but you can call me Ballister,” at this he ignored the Director’s lifted eyebrows and calculating stare. “And who might you be?”
The Director pulled herself to her full height and stepped a little closer to her charge. “This is my protégé, Ambrosius Goldenloin, God of Spring. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you before, but this is the first time the two of you have attended the same event.” She said coldly. “Please behave yourself Blackheart, he is very important. We don't want you corrupting him.”
At that a flash of fury crossed the God’s face before his expression smoothed out into one of detached politeness. “I can speak for myself and I’m sure there is nothing to worry about, Ballister here seems like very polite company, and even if he wasn’t I’m not some defenseless child, Director. " His tone was neutral, but Ballister could see the fiery and righteous anger shimmering underneath.
It made Ballister smirk.
“He’s right, you know. I am a good host. And I have nothing but respect for all my guests. The only thing I care about is showing them a good time,” he said, opening his eyes a little wider and letting the light shine on them in that way he knew made him look innocent and endearing.
The Director scowled and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘that is what worries me’ while giving Ballister a death glare that even he was impressed with. He ignored her and gestured to his wine and the imposing spreads of food arranged in tables all over the room. “Can I offer you anything to drink or eat? You must be hungry at this time of the evening. And the food looks amazing if I do say so myself.”
Indeed, the banquet was stunning. There were all sorts of foods from all over the world. Ripe fruits and lush vegetables. An array of salads in every color imaginable. Plates piled high with different cuts of meats from various animals. Pitchers full of liquids, from fizzy ales to juicy wines and tangy alcohols. Sweets in every shape, size and color decorated some tables along with beautiful cutlery and decadent floral arrangements. It made the room seem like a chaotic painting and it all came together in a heady aroma that permeated the air and made your head spin.
The Director barely paid it any mind. “Thank you, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to refuse.” She said curtly and proceeded to take her charge tightly by the wrist like you would an unruly kid and drag him across the room as far away from Ballister as she possibly could. He did not miss how Ambrosius threw him a couple of glances even as he was forcibly hauled away.
Ballister couldn't stop a mischievous smile from taking over his lips. He might be a gracious host but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy himself exerting his power over the other Gods and making them uncomfortable. It was payback for everything they did.
It was a well-known fact that anyone who ate or drank even the smallest morsel of food from the Underworld would be forced to stay in it for all of eternity. They were all simply too proud to acknowledge it, but watching the lot of them avoid the food spread all over the room while trying to pretend they weren’t doing so was too much fun. Even Valerin squirmed uncomfortably from time to time when she got too close to a table.
Ballister took a sip of wine and ate a couple of grapes feeling how their juice stained his lips. He contemplated the room. Yes, he enjoyed playing the magnanimous host, but he would be glad when it was all over and done with. His patience for the other deities was running thin and he much preferred his solitude. He would enjoy the rest of the party and then he was gladly going back to his duties and usual activities.
When he glanced around again, he found a pair of startling amber eyes watching him from the other side of the room. Funny how he hadn’t noticed before, it was the brightest pair of eyes he had ever seen. As bright as the sky in full spring or as the clearest lake in the heat of day, but there was something dark in them too. Something stormy that made them look deep as the ocean and cold as a glacier reflecting the sun. Those eyes watched him with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. There was a strange sort of fire burning in them that made Ballister feel warm inside.
He turned away. Not understanding what exactly he was feeling. A sudden spark ignited inside his chest.
He continued to drink his wine and enjoy the party, eventually putting the God of Spring out of his thoughts and not expecting to see him again.
But it seems as if that wasn’t the end of their story yet. Apparently, Destiny and the Moirai had decided that their paths were now irrevocably intertwined, and they would meet again. Under what circumstances and to what end those meetings would be, remained yet shrouded in mystery even for the all-seeing eyes of Fate.
Somewhere, Nimona was cackling with a mischievous fire in her eyes.