Work Text:
Every day is more or less the same. The mornings and evenings are terrible, but I love the days. That's when I get to go to Calliope's home. My husband says she's my friend. The first day I got to go there, after my husband left, Calliope said something like "Look, we're both adults. We both know you don't need to be babysat. You can sit in my room if you really want to, but I don't think you should need to be entertained. The palace is huge; go wherever you want, as long as you're not swinging doors open." Then she leaned closer, a smirk traveling up her face, starting at the up-turned corners of her mouth, and ending with her dark eyebrows, raised ever-so-slightly. "But please, do me a favour and tell your husband we talk all day. Tell him we're this close." She crossed her fingers. "I'm going to get some new decorations in exchange for babysitting you." I like Calliope. She's one of the few honest people I've met.
Sometimes she tells me what she's writing about. Sometimes she lets me read her past works, as long as I put them back exactly how I found them. But most of the time, I explore her giant home. It is a buffet for the senses. Beautiful colours are all over the walls, no matter where you look. There are so many decorations, made to resemble people, objects, animals, or even concepts, made of so many different materials. I asked Calliope if I could touch them, and she said "Outside of my room, you can fool around with whatever you want. Just don't break anything. Or if you do, don't get caught." I touch things sometimes, but very, very gently, and only if I'm really curious about the texture.
Although I think of the palace as Calliope's, it actually belongs to Apollo. This is easy to tell, as there are many images of his likeness, ranging from small portraits to states several times my height. Many of them were made by him. Apollo is nice. He likes to talk to me about everything in the palace. Everything. I have not had a physical form for that long. I cannot process all of the colours and all of the sounds and all of the writing and all of the things he's saying, and all the technical details of every single piece of art that apparently I should be appreciating. There is so much overwhelming my senses that I end up taking in none of it, except for Apollo staring at me, expecting a reaction. Luckily, it is always the same reaction he expects to see. "Wow. That is amazing." Sometimes he asks me what I think about a certain detail, or what I like about a piece. This question is a trick. My answers do not matter. "That is great. I love this obvious detail about it." I could answer those questions all day, but when they are mixed in with the overwhelming of my senses I get tired very quickly.
Apollo eventually notices this, usually when I stop responding verbally and start nodding along to everything he says. Sometimes he offers to teach me how to make some of the art. I do not respond. He starts walking away, trying to lead me to his rooms of art creation. I do not move. At this point I am always drained. I cannot make things while he watches me and talks at me, especially because he is an expert and I have no practice making anything. Even when he's not there, I don't have the energy to.
This is when he starts to make small talk. He will not stop bringing up my husband. "Does your husband not give you materials that stimulate your creativity?" "You seem tired. Does your husband not let you have a good night's sleep?" A few times he's tried to guide me by putting his hand on my shoulder. I do not like it, so I step away. It feels unnatural. He is thinking too much about touching me. not too high, not too low, not too firm, not too hesitant. He acts as if I am an easily spooked animal he's trying to tame. Then he asks "Does your husband not even allow you to make friendly contact with other men?" It's always about my husband. "It's getting later in the day. I suppose your husband will be here to pick you up soon." "Is it nice getting away from your husband for a few hours?" "What's it like being married to Hephaestus?"
I am not Aphrodite to him. I am Hephaestus' wife. That is how almost everyone sees me. I hate it. Apollo asks all of these questions with pity in his voice, but no actual empathy for me. I do not exist. I am Hephaestus' poor wife. I would never answer his questions honestly. He does not care. He would probably tell my husband what I told him and laugh. Calliope actually sees me as Aphrodite. She brings up Hephaestus, but I am only connected to him in that I have an agreement with her where I pretend she hangs out with me so she can get custom-made items from him. It is nice to work together with someone. I think Calliope and I have a bit of a bond, even if we don't talk much.
At this point Apollo usually gives up for the day and takes me back to Calliope. He knows about the arrangement Hephaestus has with her, but he doesn't know I'm in on the scam. Calliope laughs at how worn out I look after Apollo leaves. Lately she's let me rest in her bed. I really appreciate it. I am so exhausted. I cannot fall asleep in the same bed as my husband. It would be like expecting someone to fall asleep next to a tiger. The last few times she's let me rest in her bed I've even gotten some sleep. I feel safe with her in the room, writing her beautiful poems. Sometimes when she thinks I'm asleep she'll even put a blanket over me. She is so nice. She must really love the items my husband makes. The first time I realised I fell asleep in her room I felt sad because my time away from my husband felt shorter, but once I realised how nice being rested felt the sadness went away.
Sometimes when I wander away from Calliope's room I leave the palace entirely. There's a nice, quiet forest I like to go to. The only sounds I hear are leaves rustling in the wind and birds singing in the distance. I'm shielded from the sun's harsh rays. In that nice little spot, there are many things I can do. I am completely alone. I can cry. I can scream. I can sing. I can laugh. I can do my work. I can curl up under a bush and have a nap, as long as I don't sleep for too long. I tell my husband my clothes are dirty because Calliope likes having picnics in the garden.
I've noticed that my husband will have talks with Calliope sometimes. He asks her how I act, how I seem to be feeling, and if I talk about him to her at all. Calliope always tells him that I'm doing great. Fantastic. We just talked all day. She jokes sometimes to me that she'll start teaching me weird and unnecessary skills, just to mess with him, but I don't think she actually plans on doing so.
Today's a very typical day. Apollo has found me. We're sitting on the ground, hitting marbles at each other and trying to catch them. Apollo does not seem to like sitting on the ground, but he seems to be experimenting with activities we can do that I can engage with more. I appreciate it. I like the marbles and the different patterns inside them. He's talked about letting me play with his hair, but only as a distant possibility. I'd love to play with his hair. It's so long and beautiful, like golden rays of sunlight falling from his head. It looks so silky and soft. I really want to touch it, but I don't because I'm not rude. I can tell Apollo's proud of his hair and is apprehensive of letting me play with it, which is understandable. I usually come to the palace with messy hair, and only brush it if Calliope lets me borrow her brush. I do not want to have nice hair for my husband. He likes to touch my hair, but if it's super tangled he'll stop to comment on it. Then I can leave to pretend to comb it so I get some time to myself.
I am trying to pick a favourite marble out of the marbles on my side. Apollo is arranging his in a gradient. Suddenly I sense someone rapidly approaching the room. I jump up and scuttle back so my back's against the wall. Apollo looks up at me in confusion, like he's about to ask if my husband made me afraid of marbles.
"Hey!" a voice calls. "Whatcha- Oh. Hello." All of a sudden there's a god in front of me, with a big smile, the kind that's contagious. He does a quick slight bow. "Nice to meet you. My name's Hermes. I assume Apollo's told you about me?"
I nod, smiling. I'm not sure why I'm smiling. Maybe it's the way his eyes sparkle. To be honest, I don't think Apollo's talked to me about him, but I must admit I'm not always paying full attention to everything Apollo says.
Hermes' face crumples into an expression of concern "Oh dear." Then the smile is back. He turns to Apollo. "Whatever he's said, I'm sure it's all true." He pulls him into a side hug. "I'm his worse half."
Apollo has a small smile on his face, but he avoids looking directly at Hermes. "What are you doing here?"
Hermes' expression flashes to confusion. "What am I-?" he looks back at me, and a grin creeps over his face. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had a guest."
"I'm Calliope's guest," I correct, not wanting to get in trouble if my husband and Hermes cross paths.
Hermes makes a show of looking right. Then left. Then back at Apollo. "Wow. Did you really talk so much that you scared Calliope away?"
At this, Apollo cracks. He turns to Hermes, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "Excuse me? You're telling me that I talk too much?"
I like watching them interact. I can tell they really like each other. Hermes is leaning slightly forward, staring up at his friend through his lashes, revelling in the reaction he's provokes. Apollo is more relaxed with him, making large gestures with his hands to accentuate his words. He's saying what's on his mind, instead of trying to sound smart, and impressive, and like an expert who has empathy for others who just aren't as talented, like he does when he talks to me. His posture's more natural, not perfectly straight.
Hermes puts his hand to his friend's chest. "Hey, no, no, no." His gaze turns back to me. "I am a good talker. An excellent one. You know, once I was talking to this guy, and he was so enthralled- hooked on every word I was saying- that he listened to me until he physically couldn't anymore. He passed out from exhaustion. It was disappointing, really. I was on a roll at that point, but I know he would have loved to hear more if he was conscious, so I don't fault him."
"Then Hermes killed him."
My eyes dart to Apollo's face to look for any sign he's joking. There is none. His expression is completely neutral. My body tenses back up.
"He had it coming!" Hermes explains, still smiling like Apollo never spoke. "Stealing cows is really bad!"
Apollo leans in closer to Hermes, staring down at him. His eyes narrow, and the corners of his mouth sneak up. "Death-worthy?"
"Oh, absolutely." Hermes bobbles his head up and down. "Definitely. And I think anyone who befriends cow-thieves should be put to death too. They're just as bad. Maybe worse."
Apollo chuckles. He looks at me. Should I be laughing too? I feel like an intruder in the conversation. They're so close to each other that it makes the distance between them and me feel massive, but I like watching them. "This little shit stole my cows a long while ago," he explains with a push to his friend's shoulder.
Hermes' smile is so big it's hard to see his eyes.
"Oh, were the cows okay?" I ask. That seems like the right thing to say.
The two gods burst into laughter, leaning against each other for support. I'm not sue why they're laughing, but I'm glad I can contribute positively to the conversation. Once Apollo gets the giggles out, he starts to say "No-"
"Most of them were," Hermes interrupts.
"He ate one! He was a baby-" Apollo holds his hands close together. "-And he ate an entire fucking cow!" His hands shoot outwards, extending as far as they can.
"I was hungry, and my mom was fast asleep; what was I supposed to do?" Hermes asks. "I have no idea why she was so tired. I personally think I was a super easy child to raise." I wish I had a mom. Someone who'd love me for me and not for what I could give them. Someone who'd want what's best for me. I think if I had a mom she would've stopped them from making me get married. I'd be able to live at her house instead and do things I want to do. Fates, I wish I had a mom. My entire life would be different.
"Is it nice having a mom? I wish I had one," I say. I don't know if it's the right thing to say, but it's what I was thinking.
"Yeah, my mom's amazing," Hermes beams. he walks towards me and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Don't feel bad, though. Even if you had a mom she wouldn't be anywhere near as cool as mine."
I like Hermes. He makes me want to speak with him more to see what he'll say.
"You're closer to being a mother than you are to needing one, anyway," Apollo remarks. I step away from Hermes. I hope I won't be a mother any time soon. My husband talks about me getting pregnant sometimes, and it makes my stomach flip like I'm about to vomit. I don't want to have babies until I'm far, far away from him. I want to be somewhere safe, so I'll be able to be the best mum I can be for them. My husband's house is no place for children.
I take a minute to examine the floor. No one speaks for a moment, until Apollo says "Well, it's probably time for you to head back over to Calliope's." He looks at Hermes. "That's the sad part of her visits. We always have to return her before the end of the day."
I'm pretty sure I know the way to Calliope's room, so I start walking. They follow me. "You have a great night," Apollo says when I'm almost at the door. "'Were the cows okay?' You're so precious. Never change."
I still don't know what's funny about what I said, so I reply "Thank you. Have a good night."
"It was great to meet you," Hermes smiles.
I can't help but smile back. "Thank you. It was great meeting you too. I hope you'll come here again so we can all talk more in the future.
"Definitely. This is my second home." It's funny that I haven't seen him before, then.
I slip into Calliope's room and plunk down on the floor. Suddenly all of the energy's drained from my body.
"Long day?" She smirks.
I nod. "Yeah." This is my least favourite part of my visits, because there's no where to go from here than back to my husband's house. But at least I have something ese to look forward to now.