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Love has always been an abstract concept in Aphrodite’s mind, that went beyond his common understanding. He was able to comprehend many different ways of expressions and sensations regarding different emotions since a young age. He knew what anger was, what despair, fear, power felt like. He knew tenderness, he was acquainted with happiness, with desire, with lust. But love sounded like a myth, a foreign conception which he has heard of, and nothing more.
With his curious cerulean eyes, many times in the past he observed his master in secret, the one in charge to look after him, in his training with utter admiration. It was then he discovered how adoration felt like, since such feeling only grew stronger and wider day after day as Aphrodite made that act part of his routine, genuinely thinking his presence there was unnoticed, concealed. It inspired him, planting into him a desire to grow as strong and to be recognized for it. By him.
There was something beautiful about Saga’s way of fighting, way of speaking, way of gesturing. Something he was perhaps too young to define. And yet, that was also when he got familiar with the sense of beauty, and not by his own appearance as the ones who surrounded him eventually did.
‘Aphrodite’ was a name given to him, not chosen by him. Great was his surprise, in fact, amidst researches to find that ‘Aphrodite’ was the name of a goddess. ‘The goddess of love and beauty’, it said. He didn’t quite think of himself as someone deserving to be named after such a figure, but what intrigued him the most was the former description. ‘Love’… He knew nothing of it, nor he would give it much thought.
‘It must be felt rather than explained’, some would answer upon his inquiries.
At a mature age, it was becoming clearer what devotion felt like, and that was possibly the closest feeling to love Aphrodite had ever felt. To serve the Patriarch, to serve his former master in the highest position could give him nothing but pride and pleasure. It was an honor; to be recognized by him was the proof his prayers as a child who had so recently gotten to that place had been heard and his efforts recognized. No one was more loyal to Saga than him, no one served him as well and efficiently as he did. No one was closer to him than Aphrodite.
And yet, as he grew a little older, there was a weight in his chest that managed to grow heavier with him, clutching and suffocating his beating heart. There was a distance between him and Saga which couldn’t be shortened, that wouldn’t disappear no matter their proximity. Saga’s words of appreciation never once failed to flatter him, to fill him with the truest sense of happiness he’s ever felt, to the point they’d overflow from his crystal blue eyes. But it wasn’t enough anymore, and the guilt for even possessing such a thought was hurtful, it felt like treason.
Was this how greed felt like? To want more than words, more than subtle gestures… It was driving him insane, this craving that could not be soothed and furthermore repressed.
The timbre of his voice moved Aphrodite, the way he spoke his name… He felt like a moth drawn by the flame wanting to get burnt if that would at last indulge his desperate desire. But the reason within him would speak louder than his heart, and he would frequently and uselessly search for indulgence that were nothing but an illusion, a temporary solution to momentarily quench the burning passion within him.
‘Passion…’
He had seen the Patriarch crumble and arise from the ashes of his despair so many times, and no matter how privileged he was for being the only to witness such moments, nothing was ever able to soothe the anguish he felt for not being able to cross the iron wall which was kept between them. Saga wouldn’t let him near, but Aphrodite refused to leave him alone with his poisonous, consuming thoughts.
The changes in him were remarkable, though Aphrodite still managed to spot bits of Saga’s personality that he remembered from his childhood, when Saga was responsible to look after him, to mentor him. Those moments were scarce, but heartwarming. A bittersweet nostalgia. Nevertheless, he was proud of Saga’s growth as a ruler, and his unwavering loyalty only grew stronger day by day. Aphrodite had reached the place he wanted to be, but… why did he feel like it would not suffice?
If only he was enough to satisfy all his master’s needs…Perhaps…
Would such day ever come?
‘You’re indeed beautiful, Aphrodite’ these words which had come out all of a sudden echoed in Aphrodite’s mind, enough to numb his body from the rigid pressure the pale fingers made against his cheek.
Those dark blue eyes who were gentle and patient before, now red in despair and dripping with a mild insanity. It was one of the few times Saga had gotten so close, to the point he could feel the warmth of his body, the gentle breeze of his breath. Aphrodite’s expression was serene as ever, unfazed by his master’s abrupt change of mind. He had never been so bold before as to dare touch Saga, but this time he barely could prevent his own urges.
In a gentler motion, in contrast to Saga’s gesture, Aphrodite’s hands cupped his cheeks, his thumbs sliding down his skin beneath the warm and humid path his tears had formed down his jawline.
“Your wishes are always an order, master,” his voice was ever respectful and honestly sweet speaking to him. “Please tell me what I can do for you, to ease the exasperation in your heart.”
The Patriarch’s expressions softened under the warmth of those soft palms, but a vocal answer never came.
It was amidst the satin sheets of the Patriarch’s bed, between delighted sounds and entangled bodies, the melody of it all, of Aphrodite’s pant breath which suddenly his heart felt loosen. His slender fingers were dragged around his muscular back in straight patterns between cries of pleasure and pain, and Saga’s previous aggressive and violent performance grew calmer, as a beast that’s been appeased, until everything came to a gradual closure.
Not a single word had been exchanged from the beginning to the end, but this time the sensation of fulfillment remained. It lasted, and Aphrodite could feel it, almost touch it, as the calm and drowsy sound of Saga’s breath filled his ears in a silent melody that brought him a knowledge which he had been searching for a very long time.
His fingers threaded by those dark locks, gently and with extra care not to wake him from such a peaceful slumber whilst his lidded cerulean eyes admired his master’s countenance, admired by how he had unconsciously searched the warmth of Aphrodite’s alabaster chest to rest his face over.
Perhaps that feeling that threatened to burst before was… love. The one he had read so much about, the one he sought for so long, was before him since the beginning. In many, different forms, but…
It was still love, all the same. Reciprocal or not, that was love.
Saga was never the flame, but the moon who guided his path all this time with his special, silvery cold light which in he basked delightfully; more profoundly and utterly indulged than by any burning blaze that’s ever crossed his way.