Chapter Text
Orpheus couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. His goddess had become a grand fool over the many centuries. He had found her some months ago after ages apart. She called herself Ceres, but he knew the truth. The golden sigil between her shoulder blades only gods could see made her true identity more than obvious. The mother goddess and queen of the Heavens, Celestia, walked among them.
To his surprise, though, Celestia’s vessel seemed to have no idea who he was. It should have been obvious. The sigil between his own shoulder blades marked him as Erebus, the god of the night, sleep, and death. Yet she remained none the wiser. She spoke of the gods as if they were some distant thing, as if she wasn’t their ruler.
Orpheus didn’t know what had happened to him after Celestia had banished him from the heavens, dragged into a dark and dying realm for those passing through to the afterlife and rebirth. He didn’t care to know. It had taken centuries enough to free himself from that withering realm, climbing out of the depths and carving a new identity as the man Orpheus, a simple traveler just passing from one location to another. A suitable traveling companion to guide one such as Ceres to her destination, the mountain peak on which the gods were supposed to reside. He doubted many lived there now after the destruction he’d caused trying to steal her heavenly throne.
Even now, Ceres trusted him too easily. She’d invited him into her tent to share some meager warmth and sleep more easily. She was an idiot for not realizing she was inviting an usurper to her throne this close.
He reached out to gently touch her cheek and then pulled away as if he’d been burned. The goddess’s blessing kept her safe even when asleep. It wasn’t so much that the girl was Celestia herself, but rather a part of her torn from the goddess. Much like he was torn from the heavens. He simply didn’t have her blessing.
The goddess incarnate mumbled something softly in her sleep and turned onto her side, facing him. For a moment, Orpheus froze. Had he woken her? But, no, she simply breathed out a weary sigh and let the night breeze lull her back to sleep.
Orpheus watched her quietly and then dared to reach out again, brushing silver locks from her face, ignoring the way his fingers burned as if he was touching fire instead. He was used to pain. He could ignore it for now.
Rather, he was more stunned at how assuming this shard of the great goddess was. So soft, so gentle. Her eyes regarded him with a care that had long since faded from Celestia’s eyes. It was as if she trusted him. Like she actually wanted him around. What foolish notions.
He settled on his bedroll next to her, silver eyes taking in her beauty. It wasn’t fair. Why tempt him with something so far out of his reach? The goddess had never stopped looking down on this traitor, it seemed. It was almost like Ceres was the naive love the goddess felt for him given form.
How would she feel when they climbed to the top of the mountain and Orpheus revealed he was no mortal man? Would she feel betrayed? Would that hopeful light die from her eyes just as it had from Celestia’s?
So be it. Celestia was too kind to rule over mankind, and Orpheus knew it. She was too gentle. If he had to use this shard to unlock Heaven’s gates and give him a second chance to reclaim the throne that was rightfully his, so be it. Ceres’s happiness was afterthought to him, one he couldn’t care less for either way.
Or so he told himself.
His silver eyes regarded her sleeping form with a care he’d never dare speak aloud. They were traveling companions. Nothing more. And, soon, they wouldn’t even be that.
It was what she deserved, he reminded himself. And what he deserved for all the torment she put him through.
But, for now, he was content to thumb through her hair and think of the days when Celestia loved him, and he loved her in turn.