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The summer wind whispered through the marble colonnades of the temple atop Mount Theros. The crimson sun lit the ivory pillars the colour of ambrosia and converged on the tall statue of a desirous beauty, which many envied. The Prince knelt at the altar of Aphrodite, eyes closed, seemingly unaware of the surroundings. The Gods called him Kaveh. As he knelt, dusk gilded his skin in gold, his robes falling like molten ivory across the stone floor. He was blessed by his mother- a favourite of hers- with hair as golden as the blazing sun, and skin smooth and beautiful as the velvety waves of water, his eyes but two crimson pools that held the stars of the heaven and lips the colour of the softest pink blossoms.
Kaveh’s voice, low and solemn, carried a prayer no one heard but the goddess- and perhaps, someone else, hidden just beyond the pillars.
He was called The General- a man of Sparta-born fire and Athenian wit, known across the kingdoms not just for war, but for the rare way he hesitated before drawing blood. His build was tall, muscular and strong, just like a fierce warrior. His gray locks of hair were left carelessly untidy, and his eyes reflected the colour of the forest. The General’s skin carried multiple scars, each with a story to tell and he carried his sword with him everywhere- a long sword engraved with the symbol of Ares.
He stood at the edge of the sanctum, watching the Prince. Not just with hunger, but with the tortured patience of a man cursed to want what he dared not touch. But he was on a mission- a mission requiring far beyond the mortal strength he possessed. He was about to challenge the Gods themselves.
The Prince rose slowly after his prayer, gaze fixed on the statue of his mother.
“Do not hide behind the pillar anymore,” he said, turning slowly, his voice not surprised, only soft. “Alhaitham.”
His name felt like something sacred on the Prince’s tongue. Alhaitham’s heart raced for a moment before he schooled it, and he stepped into the light, olive-bronzed skin aglow with the dying sun. “I should not be here,” he murmured.
“That is true,” Kaveh replied, elegant and graceful, as if it flowed within his blood. But even he couldn’t deny the flutter in his stomach as the gray-haired general revealed himself.
“You belong to the Gods,” Alhaitham said, stepping closer, carefully yet helplessly.
“And yet you watch me like one,” Kaveh said, tilting his head. “I will be honest, I did not expect to see you here.”
The General paused his movements, his features carrying a hint of longing that was hard to miss.
“How could I keep myself away?” he asked, in a small whisper.
The golden-haired prince’s eyes softened, and he finally dared to take a step closer.
“Do you wish for something?” Kaveh asked, hopeful.
Alhaitham took a breath, then closed the space between them in a few purposeful strides.
“Permission,” he answered.
Kaveh’s lips parted, a trembling exhale escaping. “For what?”
“To forget who I am. Just once, to forget duty, to forget the war. To let you be not the oracle, nor the blessed vessel, but just… you.”
The Prince’s gaze faltered- partly out of fear but also because his heart, like the sea far below, was swelling. The words hung heavy in the silence of the temple, fanning the twin flames.
“You wish for brevity I am not sure I possess,” Kaveh whispered.
“My Prince…” Alhaitham urged, taking his hand, two calloused hands providing a gentle touch Kaveh had not ever known. “You are brave- far braver than I. You have been a brilliant son and a servant to the Gods above. But I know your heart desires more… let it desire… My Prince.”
Kaveh looked up at him, affection taking over his person. The blessed child of Aphrodite could not lie anymore- not to the Gods, not to himself, and especially not to the man standing in front of him.
“But I do not wish to harm you-“ the Prince spoke, in a final attempt, but the General pulled him closer, their persons pressed in a torturous manner, causing him to gasp softly.
“You could never harm me,” Alhaitham whispered. “Never- in any lives, in any form.”
And like men before him who’d defied the gods for love, the General leaned in, lips pressed to the Prince’s- salt and heat and the breath of ancient myths binding them.
Their bodies writhed desperately, as if parched for each other. Every moment was sacred, every touch was searing. Beneath the moonlight, the twin flames burn brighter than ever. The Prince and the General- defying the Gods in their very house of worship.
Alhaitham’s hands traced Kaveh’s gentle curves, his lips stealing the gentle Prince’s every breath. Propriety was long forgotten as he held his lover with intent and purpose. Alhaitham memorised Kaveh’s divinity, and the Prince as a willing participant. He pulled the General closer, deeper- as if to say he wasn’t allowed to pull away. Alhaitham calls Kaveh’s name with a plea, and the latter responds with equal worship.
They kiss again, slower; marking each other 's. As the night deepened, their bodies lay tangled, Kaveh’s hands in Alhaitham’s hair weaving gentle patterns. Everything and nothing was said, but a declaration of love was already made.
But even in the aftermath, as they lay wrapped in silken robes beneath the temple’s arches, stars spinning above them like a divine omen, Kaveh knew: the Gods were watching.
And they did not take kindly to stolen nights.