5 • Truths and Wisdoms

“Wear these,” Eros prompted.

Ganymede took the bundle but wondered, “Why? My clothes are undamaged.”

“They stand out,” Eros explained. “The colors come from expensive dyes that will spark unwanted attention, not to mention the style is out of place. Dion, help him.”

“Ta da!” the god himself entered with a flourish.

Eros sighed. “What part of unwanted attention do you not understand?”

Dionysus appeared appalled and drew himself up to his full height. “I am the lord of this venture and shall play the part of benevolent aristocrat, inviting the little people to accompany him to the festivals! You are in my villa, after all.”

Eros’ gaze wavered between deadpan and murderous but he seemed to finally decide that killing Dionysus for wearing a purple shirt was beneath him.

Sure enough, though, upon leaving Mount Olympus Dionysus had knocked Ganymede unconscious so he could withstand the travel and he had reawakened in a much smaller dwelling by the sea. Ganymede had swayed to his feet to look out of the gaping windows to the rocky shoreline. The house was nearly encompassed by trees so the view was fringed with greenery but the air was thicker and smelled different here, infusing Ganymede’s senses.

Now he looked at Dionysus, who was twisting his hips to feel the flow of milky fabric around his legs. An ornate gold pin hammered to look like a bundle of grapes tied the swath of linen upon one shoulder, while a richly violet silk shirt covered the rest of his torso. Looking upon his own garments, Ganymede found a similar set, only the shirt was off-white wool and the toga was brown linen.

“And these,” Eros added when he had finished dressing. The soft leather shoes in his grasp had soles that curved up over the foot with wider straps than the flat patch of leather and thongs that made up Dionysus’ sandals. No sooner had he tied the shoes then he was running through the house. “Wait!”

“Where are we?” Ganymede called behind him. He sprinted up the stairs and swayed to a halt, surprised by how short the staircase was, and then lunged for the next window. This one was entirely overgrown by an olive tree so Ganymede redirected his path back downstairs—

He stopped in sight of the front door, which was open to let the midday breeze inside, and on the threshold sat a slim creature licking its paw. Something in the eyes reminded Ganymede of Dionysus’ tiger, but this animal was much smaller and stared at him keenly instead of the tiger’s lazy gaze.

A man entered, then, who scooped the animal up into his arms. “Hello. Don’t mind Pétra, here. She has claws but her weak spot is her chin.”

Sure enough, the animal lounged in his arms, stretching her neck to give his fingers further access. He smiled at Ganymede and approached. “Let her smell your fingers, and then you can pet her.”

“What is she?” he asked, doing as he bid. His fingers ticked against her whiskers.

“A cat,” came Dionysus behind him. “Not as majestic as my beast, but just as greedy for attention. Oenopion, you received my message?”

“Yes, father,” he nodded, and surprised Ganymede by lowering onto one knee. Ganymede watched, wide-eyed as the god approached his son and grasped his chin to tip it up, and pecked a soft kiss on his mouth.

“Now put the bloody cat down and welcome me properly,” he ordered. Oenopion grinned and Ganymede found himself with a handful of fur as the man stood to embrace his father and god.

He peeked at Eros and went to stand with him. “King Oenopion of Chios,” Eros explained. “Arguably Dion’s favorite because he also likes to cultivate vineyards.”

“King?” Ganymede exclaimed.

Eros shrugged. “It’s all the same. King of an island, king of a city…the only variable is the amount of land you hold.”

“Wrong!” Dionysus whirled around. “What matters is the effect of your influence over that land, no matter how small. How are your vintages?” he turned back to Oenopion.

“They are well,” he answered, still smiling. “The aged wines will be opened this year, and the samples we’ve had have proven promising.”

Looking at him now, Ganymede saw that he did indeed look like his father: the same wiry black hair, but the looser curls hung asymmetrically over one side to be out of the way instead of the mass Dionysus let bounce around his cranium. Oenopion was taller but not by much, and his skin had been baked by the sun, giving him the visage of an older, mortal Dionysus.

Pétra leapt from Ganymede’s arms and trotted silently out of sight. Oenopion noticed and voiced, “Forgive her. She is pregnant and can only stomach so much attention as of late.”

He stepped forward and extended his hand. Ganymede obliged and felt him grip his forearm. “Welcome to Chios, Ganymede, companion of the gods. You are welcome here as long as you like, and your secret is safe upon my lips.”

Ganymede wanted to smile but instead he blurted, “Secret?”

“The common people cannot know who you are,” Eros reiterated. He sent a glare to Dionysus. “Unwanted attention.”

“You are not allowed to rain on my festival, Eros. That is not in your power,” the latter countered as Oenopion released Ganymede’s arm.

“Your festival hasn’t even begun,” Eros scoffed.

Ganymede found Oenopion looking at him, which prompted the king to murmur, “Are they always like this?”

Ganymede shrugged. “Louder, usually.”

He laughed, revealing one of his molars to be missing. Ganymede blinked, unsure what to make of that, but a moment later Oenopion said, “Allow me to give you a tour of my island. Later on, if you have time we can sail to Lemnos, my birthplace—”

“Not Lemnos,” Dionysus intervened. “It is no secret I have a fondness for Lemnos, and seeing your mother would draw too much attention.” He shot a look at Eros, who appeared mirthless.

“It’s too close,” he said bluntly.

The spite in Dionysus’ eyes dissolved, causing Ganymede to ask, “Too close to what?”

“Never mind what it's close to,” Dionysus reworded. “Lemnos is too far from my City Dionysia. There is no point in going north, but a good day or two of sailing might be quite nice.”

Ganymede frowned. “Won’t the sea gods know I’m here?”

Oenopion assured, “The sea is vast and the gods are few. There isn’t much to draw their attention over here.”

“It does not bode well to underestimate them,” Eros rebuked.

“Argh!” Dionysus cried, all but attacking him with wandering hands and playful slaps. “When did you become such an overbearing parent? I am a god and I am telling you I have Athena’s cloak. We’re fine!”

“Her cloak?” Ganymede wondered, and then the familiar voice answered herself, “Yes…I do not recall lending you that.”

Oenopion gracefully lowered onto one knee again while Ganymede bowed at the waist. The goddess strolled into the house with her helm under her arm. Ganymede peeked into it and saw her owl sound asleep inside. “Rise, Oenopion,” she ceded. “Your hospitality is honorable but your father is predictable. Did you really think here was less obvious than Lemnos?”

Dionysus sighed, “As I have already said, I have your cloak, and Gany here has already been wearing it since we left Olympus.”

“What?” he squawked.

Dionysus waved a hand into the air, flourishing his words. “You are invisible to the world—well, to immortal eyes, anyway. Only those who have a thread of the cloak can see you.”

He pushed his hair behind an ear to reveal a resin stud in his ear, glimmering with a pearlescent thread knotted inside, finer than any hair. Eros wore a similar earring, and Athena further explained, “Invisible to all except she who made the garment, and it hardly matters. Don’t you think our father will know where he is when he sees an empty space between you and Eros?”

“Only with you harping about it so loudly,” Dionysus retorted. “Everyone knows you care for him. Your location is giving everything away—”

“I don’t want to wear it,” Ganymede exclaimed.

The gods looked at him. “I don’t want to wear it,” he repeated.

“Aye, we heard you the first time, but why ever not?” Dionysus wondered.

Ganymede did not know how to say it aloud without sounding foolish. “I…don’t want to wear something like this. My scars were hidden for years and I didn’t know.”

“Is it the not knowing that’s bothering you?” Dionysus guessed.

Ganymede’s hands went to his nape and backside, as if trying to find the invisible fabric. “I don’t like the thought of wearing it. I don’t want to hide.”

Dionysus pushed his hands down and said with patience, “Well without it, he will find you instantly. We need to hide you at least for the next couple of weeks until the festival. He is less likely to make a scene in front of so many humans. Everyone else will be able to see you; just be patient and you’ll forget it’s even there.”

But Ganymede was still hesitant. Eros stepped forward, gently but thoroughly shoving Dionysus aside. Taking both of Ganymede’s hands, Eros said, “The king needs time. Time to process his own mistake as well as your rejection, but as soon as he knows you’re gone…well, let’s just keep a weather eye open, yeah? We once told you that he is an adolescent when it comes to making love, but it is time he dealt with a lot of mature feelings. This is only for your safety while he uses this time for himself.”

Ganymede held his gaze steadily but his shoulders hunched when he inhaled deeply. After a long moment he nodded, and Eros draped an arm around him to pull him close. “Let’s go explore. Oenopion knows every inch of his island.”

Ganymede’s arms went around his waist, returning the embrace before he nodded. “Thank you for having us, majesty.”

Oenopion grinned. “A servant of the gods is a welcome guest in my home. You may forgo the formalities.”

And so the day progressed with the five of them helping Ganymede learn Chios. Outside of the palace Oenopion gave them a tour of his grounds. The estate was of course smaller than the gods’ palace but it was quaint and reminded Ganymede of his room; there was a certain…messy decoration to it all that proved it was lived in. He often spent so much time on others that he rarely cleaned his own room.

The villa was nestled on a rocky, seaside hill, so their journey took them downward into town. Rows upon rows of grapevines lined the road that was paved with stones until the whitewashed shops walled the streets. At this hour there were carts and tables staggered on either side selling fruit and wares that Ganymede had never seen. Earthen and silverware caught his eye, clay urns and plates that were unglazed or unpainted and wooden spoons with brittle knives.

As they waited beside a flower vendor, Dionysus was purchasing skewers of salted shrimp and Ganymede turned to find…Athena, but not the goddess he was used to viewing. Instead of the lustrous golden hair that fell like molten gold from her head, it was the color of sand or stone; instead of skin as spotless as a pearl’s surface, he now found freckles above a male figure. She had smaller breasts than many of the other goddesses but elegant curvatures that set her apart from her male siblings.

Her grey eyes found him and she…he smiled. “Women are not allowed in the agora, sweetling.”

He looked around the marketplace with fresh eyes, and she was right. This was odd to him. “Why not?”

“The most intelligent of the gods is a woman. It has become a cultural normality for women to be restricted to the home.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ganymede squinted at her in the sunlight.

She laughed. “It does, in an unequal sense.”

Dionysus arrived with his bounty and handed out skewers. Ganymede stared for a long moment, looking between the humanized Dionysus and Eros before he saw scallops and shrimp on his skewer. Dionysus truly looked like a mortal brother of Oenopion while Eros, like Athena, had adopted Ganymede’s freckles. His golden mass of hair was equal parts frizz and ringlets, making him a lovely youth fallen out of bed.

Dionysus bumped his arm. “Are you going to stare all day or eat? These are actually quite nice.”

Obediently, he bit into a scallop. The other half fell off the stick to land by his feet but the white meat was a unique texture and chunks of garlic stuck to his lips. As he chewed his eyes widened and he pointed to his mouth until he could speak. “It’s hot!”

Eros was removing the shells from his roasted shrimp. “Peppers infuse the oil with spice.”

"Why do you remove the shell?" Dionysus observed. "It's perfectly edible."

Eros grimaced gently. "I don't care for the crunch. I like the snap of the meat just fine."

“This way,” Oenopion called. The streets widened to open upon a courtyard area. Various stone benches were around a fountain where people bent to have a drink. Ganymede watched them put a finger on the underside of the stone mermaid’s chin, causing the jet to find another hole that shot the water high enough for them to drink. Ganymede wanted to try it, so he sipped while men recognized their king and for a long while they waited for Oenopion to make his greetings and listen to whatever thoughts were brought to him. Soon enough he made apologies, excusing himself on behalf of his guests, and they rounded the corner to look upon a harbor. The docks were bustling with sailors managing their ships and cargo while others used oxen, donkeys, and carts to haul new goods to the market.

Ganymede beamed up at the seagulls floating on the breeze, screaming for the innards of fish to be thrown their way—

His sandal caught on something, bringing him to an abrupt halt. A nail.

Ganymede’s smile faltered somewhat before a rough voice broke his reverie. “Can’t risk clumsiness, lad.”

A sailor as large as the barrels he had been carrying knelt beside him and tended to his shoe. Ganymede saw the deft hands work despite cracks of dryness. Though his hands were dry, his bare shoulders and nape shined like dark oiled leather.

“Thank you,” Ganymede said once the sailor pulled his foot off the nail.

The sailor set his foot down and removed the hand from his ankle. The roughness reminded Ganymede of Hephaestus. “Not worth mentioning.”

As dark as his skin was, eyes as bright as the clear sky above them glanced at Oenopion, and with a nod to his king, the sailor returned to work. The king opened his arm to Ganymede, who joined him at the end of the dock. Below was a small mound of coral around which small fish were swimming. Oenopion seemed to have a curiosity for all things alongside wine, since he told Ganymede the names of the fish and gestured to the oyster bed before Ganymede ventured, “Everyone seems…informal around you.”

Oenopion nodded. “My land is larger than the other islands but it is intimate. I cannot say it is from my rule; more so an advantage of my parentage. Early in my reign, I had a problem with sailors and soldiers gambling. It turned into a bigger problem when they took into their minds to claim young women for their winnings but not as wives. Of course I warned them of Hera’s wrath, but brothels are not uncommon. The problem became such that women without affiliation to brothels were targeted. I could not tolerate this, and worse, I feared for the safety of my island’s priestesses.”

Ganymede’s brows lifted. “How did you solve it?”

Oenopion smirked. “I asked my father for guidance, and he said I already had the means to parch the festering waters. The following week, any man who drank wine from my vineyards felt himself rotting from the inside out. Since there is a small aqueduct running from my cellars to the agora fountain—you drank from the mermaid?”

Ganymede nodded.

“Well from her lips used to fall red wine. Now it is water. You can imagine how many consumed her poisonous blood.”

Ganymede was fascinated. “And the fountain is only available to the men…”

Oenopion nodded. “So the women were unharmed. Unfortunately my population was considerably trimmed, but my wine became known as Gods’ Mercy. You can imagine what this intrigue did for my trade.”

Ganymede laughed and peeked behind him. Eros was on the deck of the ship nearest to them, speaking to a young cabin boy while showing him card tricks. Athena stood by while Dionysus was raving over a wheel of cheese a sailor had unloaded from Lemnos.

“It’s hard to see what his anger is capable of just by looking at him.”

Oenopion guffawed and joined him in viewing Dionysus. “He is a connoisseur of all things that create happiness. Anything hindering such pursuits he has a low tolerance and little to no patience for. Have I bored you with my talking?”

Ganymede smiled up at him, shaking his head. Oenopion returned the smile as if relieved. “My children often tell me I speak too much about uninteresting things.”

“I’m older than most children,” Ganymede said offhandedly, and then considered, “Older than most adults, too.”

He turned to reunite with Dionysus and Athena, the former of whom handed him a chunk of cheese after purchasing the entire wheel. “Good, yes?” he chimed happily. “Oenopion, this will go divinely with your whites.”

His son chuckled and lithely followed after them. Eros joined them on one of the king’s personal ships, on which one of his sons was captain. The better part of the day was spent entertaining Ganymede’s fascination with the rigging and cabins; how things were nailed down or else furniture would toss and turn on the sea, how the knots and webs of rigging were strategic and full of specific purpose and not the mess they appeared to be. Athena descended with him into the deepest cargo holds which acted as a nautical stable. Hay and buckets for food and water waited to attend horses but Oenopion informed him that while in the port, the horses were comfortably grazing in the fields.

Athena leaned down every so often to add to Oenopion's tour, whispering small facts or even correcting them, causing Ganymede to giggle in her confidence. Dionysus seemed to have an abyss of a stomach, eating anything he came upon throughout the day, and then eagerly climbing the mountain back up to the villa for the dinner banquet. A woman with hair that reminded Ganymede of Zeus’s rose gold decorations greeted them, and introduced herself as Oenopion’s wife. She proved a kind and attentive host, but with such a demure aura that Ganymede often found himself staring. She was beautiful, certainly, but he could not decide if it was the gender segregation or her mortality that made her…lackluster. Once the servants were dismissed, the gods were free to take on their normal appearances, but Ganymede was used to everyone around him speaking their mind. Oenopion’s wife did not, and her silence was an empty seat at the table.

And then there were the servants themselves. Of course the gods of Olympus often had attendants; he belonged to Zeus, Poseidon was accompanied by his nymphs, Dionysus his satyrs, and most had their animal companions, but being waited upon was something Ganymede found ineffably unsettling. Watching them fill cups, hold plates, offer meat, and then remove dirtied dishes…and go completely ignored... Ganymede wondered if he was this way in a difference palace.

But he was not. Athena always had ears for him. Even Hera was keenly aware of him. Dionysus was never one to ignore a chance for conversation, and Eros did what he liked; relishing his discussions with Ganymede, especially in the presence of Zeus.

Zeus never failed to see him. Well, that was not necessarily true anymore.

Though his spirits took a dive during dinner, they were buoyed back up when he discovered how he was not to sleep in a bed alone. Sacks of feathers and cotton had been tied into pallets for the floor, and Dionysus threw himself onto the cushions with gusto. Eros shoved and manipulated his limbs so he did not take over the entire space, but soon enough the two gods were snoring softly.

Athena sat by the fireplace. Ganymede startled when something flew over his head, but her owl settled on her knee, nestling beneath a wing for sleep. She smiled at him, beckoning him to join her. “My beast never frightened you before.”

He crawled over Dionysus’ sprawled legs to sit cross-legged beside her. “Everything is different here,” he admitted, “but similar too.”

She nodded. “Your nerves are fragile at the moment. How are you finding it?”

Ganymede inhaled for speech but then exhaled, giving himself time to process the events of the day. “I think…I was caught up in the adventure. I don’t…I’m not sure I like certain things.”

Her chin dipped in her consent. “Humans are quite different from gods, whom you’ve grown and lived with, but we are remarkably similar too. Perhaps that is what disappoints you?”

Ganymede sighed, pondering. “There are certain fallacies that don’t make sense to me.”

“Then do not forget them,” she advised. “If there is one thing humans have in common with the gods, it is the dislike of being told they are wrong. Learn and see as you always have. You needn’t understand completely, but know enough to maneuver yourself and keep out of trouble.”

Ganymede frowned, and just as quickly his features opened, because he realized he had not expected to stay long enough to get into any kind of trouble. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. Athena was right, his nerves felt frayed and on edge. Like her owl, he expected an eagle to fly in at any minute.

She read this in him and combed her fingers through his hairline, pushing the tresses off his face. They were curlier than usual, from the ocean’s humidity. “I’m here to keep that from happening to you.”

Ganymede avoided his anxiety by laughing, “I thought you were staying to watch over Dion.”

She sighed loudly, as if wishing her brother to wake up. “As often as he incurs trouble, he gets himself out of it just as easily. You are my charge.”

Ganymede’s mirth settled. “Is it a bother?”

She looked at him sharply. “It? You are never a bother to me, Gany. I enjoy every minute with you. It’s those two who fray my patience.”

He giggled again while looking at Eros and Dionysus. Before he could say anything else she ordered softly, “Go to sleep, sweetling. There will be much more to see tomorrow and the next day.”

So he crawled back to rest in between the gods; Eros rolled over as if sensing him and curled around him. The warmth and contact coupled with the god’s even breathing sent Ganymede right to sleep.

The next morning proved as interesting as Athena had promised, but probably not for the reasons she had meant. Ganymede and the others ate fruit in the villa before going into town for another exploration, but with a fresh gaze Ganymede saw everything as he had not seen it yesterday. The absence of women in the agora was just as foreign, and the seafood was not as fresh as when the naiads brought it up to the palace, still wriggling in their glass bowls slung over their shoulders with netting. Men were dirty and carts kicked up dust even on the paved roads. Ganymede felt himself coughing as well as stopping to rest before he could go on no longer.

Removing his sandals, he found his ankles bleeding from the leather rubbing away at his flesh. A cobbler noticed from his shop and came over with linens to bind his feet and ankles first underneath the leather. Oenopion paid him for his compassion, but the day proceeded at the set standard until they descended one of the mountains to a bay lined with black sand. Ganymede commented on how the beaches around Oenopion’s home were tawny sand.

“This is the only black shore we have,” he explained. “Depending on whom you ask, some will say it is cursed by a scorned lover of Poseidon or that Hephaestus blew soot from his forge which landed here. The children know better.”

Sure enough, a dozen and more children were frolicking in the clear blue waters, naked or almost. A couple fathers were with them, heaving boys over their shoulders to throw them into a shallow wave. For a while, Ganymede sat on the dark sand and watched the sunlight glisten off of their muscles, sparkling off of strained tendons and how water dribbled off of unsteady limbs. He could not remember a god ever faltering.

His eyes blew wide when a low moan blasted against his ear. He turned, flabbergasted, to Eros who was laughing with the conch shell in his hands. Even with his mortal visage, he shined with water droplets. His eyes were the same green that occasionally mixed with the blue waters; seaweed reaching for the sun.

“You’re so glum, old man!” he was guffawing. “Come on!”

Before he knew it, Ganymede was being stripped by Eros and Dionysus and then hauled into the water. “Be careful with him,” Athena warned. “He will burn like a lobster out of its shell.”

It was a moot endeavor. By the time they returned to the villa Ganymede felt raw and he had a slight glow to his skin. Athena rolled her eyes at Dionysus while she moved a pestle around a mortar, crushing things like aloe, mint, and butter together. She applied the salve herself to his face and shoulders until the servants were gone and she healed him instantaneously. With a warm gold cast to his skin, he fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillows.

Their third day in Chios was spent in or on the grounds of the villa. Ganymede found a shady area beneath a row of vines near a cluster of trees and shrubs that stood like spearheads toward the sky. Dionysus and Eros joined Oenopion to harvest, press, and strain the wine of dregs while Athena laid with Ganymede with a pile of books between them.

By the fourth day Ganymede felt himself both getting used to being on the ground but also more foreign than ever. The air felt thick in his lungs, the humidity sticking in his chest as well as on his skin so he washed three times a day and slept the majority of the rest of the week. He no longer questioned certain things like what was eaten in the morning instead of at night or strict meal times, and he no longer felt odd surprise at seeing mortals around him, but then he would feel his eyelids sagging and the next he woke up, he was on a bed that was not his and staring at a ceiling what was not ornate arches and sky.

The end of the week brought a new adventure to them: sailing. Dionysus was eager to get to his festival and Oenopion’s wife was starting to look at Ganymede differently. Quiet she might have been but she was not blind to his symptoms. Before she started to ask questions, they boarded Oenopion’s ship and waved to him on the dock.

From his place at the bow, Ganymede hunched his shoulders when Athena suddenly covered his head with a wide brimmed hat. Oenopion’s son, the captain, joined them and commented how the growing storm was giving them a steady wind and favorable currents. The journey was likely going to be swift.

Ganymede folded the weaved brim of the hat up to glance at the sky. True to the captain’s word, the skies had been gradually covered with clouds over the course of the week, but he could not tell if it was the natural weather pattern or the work of a god.

Having the winds in his hair and caressing his face made Ganymede realize how much he missed these winds. They fiercely filled the sails and pulled at his hat but moved softly over his face, his eyelashes. He leaned on the thick railing of the ship, letting the ship and sea support his weight, squinting when salt sprayed his face.

“Are you sick?” Eros said beside him. Ganymede opened his eyes to find them alone apart from the sailors tending to the sails and deck.

“No. Just being.”

“That sounds strenuous,” Eros jibed.

Ganymede gave him a laugh but Eros’ hand rubbed between his shoulder blades and over his nape. “I feel your heart aching. You miss him.”

Having it spoken aloud made the back of Ganymede’s throat and eyes ache. He did not know what to say. Eros provided, “It’s all right that you miss him.”

Ganymede looked at him. “It is?”

Eros smiled consolingly. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Ganymede looked across the sea once more. “Everyone has given plenty of reasons.”

Eros tipped his head to that. “Only because we haven’t brought your attention to the good reasons.”

He sighed. “I’m not sure it works that way. And I tried to focus on his good points myself.”

“Ahh,” Eros nodded. “But he broke your stamina. Well…if they are more trouble than they are worth, you have every right to walk away…although you don’t feel as if you’re walking away. Merely taking a holiday.”

They exchanged a look, the god smiling. “It seems he has not entirely wasted his worth, but now it is up to him to not royally fuck himself.”

The youth conceded a laugh. “You’re talking about your king.”

Eros shrugged. “I’m talking about my uncle. And when it comes to love, the only superior I have is my mother.”

Ganymede watched the wind tug at his curls, his visage straying between mortal and divine. “Can you do that? Choose?”

Eros grinned in all his golden glory. “What do you take me for, if not a god?”

Ganymede shared his smile but it did not reach his eyes, so he closed them and returned to feeling the sea and sky against his skin.

* * * * * * *

“The first thing you need to know, is that your voice matters. These aren’t Oenopion’s people,” Dionysus said by way of introduction. “Yelling is encouraged.”

Ganymede sent a silent inquiry to Athena, who nodded. “Cities are loud.”

They were not wrong. However what made Ganymede’s eyes widen was the architecture. Chios was a port for trade but dominantly a rural island for cultivation. Athens was…a clash of everything he had ever read about.

Oxen carts occasionally blocked the streets of Chios but the mass of people that slowed their pace down the avenues of Athens was something else. Dionysus kept an arm around Ganymede as he said, “Worry not. My festival dominantly takes place outside of the city. We will only be here for sleep—”

Their heads turned toward a commotion which sounded like an argument. It had accumulated quite a gathering, causing Ganymede to ask, “What is that man unhappy about?”

Athena sighed haughtily. “The jeweler's wife’s lover had the stupidity to try and purchase a bracelet…for her.”

Dionysus threw a smirk back at her. “It’s your city, Minnie.”

Ganymede’s brows reached for his hair before he saw the effect the name had on the goddess. He hopped forward to catch up with Eros and grasped his forearm. The god put the arm around his shoulders, keeping him close while his other arm gestured toward the buildings. “That one there, it’s my temple. I would have preferred pink marble but it’s not like they actually ask us about these things before they build them. And that round one over there is a building for commerce…”

There were quite a few temples of various sizes throughout the city. There were several small shrines to Athena for citizens to come across, but Dionysus winked at him when Eros introduced the next structure as his temple. “Why lemons?” Ganymede wondered at the sight of the potted lemon trees outside of the entrance.

“The yellow flesh smells nice in this otherwise putrid city,” Dionysus declared, no doubt to annoy Athena. “The acid cleanses the pallet before they drink my wine during prayer.”

“We smell the sewers because we are this low in elevation. Let us rise,” she summoned.

And rise they did. The stairs were nothing to Ganymede but in this thick, low-level air, both Eros and Dionysus held his arms as they reached the top of the acropolis. “The rains will wash out the sewage, relieving your lungs before the day is through,” she promised, but as the first drops fell, he stood in awe of her Parthenon. Undoubtedly one of the largest and palest of edifices, it was also incomplete.

“She will be a mathematical marvel when she is finished,” Athena smiled proudly.

Dionysus scoffed mildly, “You might want to give a better impression of yourself to your portrait sculptor instead of focusing on the numbers.”

Ganymede did not understand until they entered underneath layers of scaffolding. The only completed portion of the ceiling was for a massive statue of the goddess looming above them, and…to say it was in her likeness would have been an insult. Though the spearhead, shield, and armor were gilt with gold, the eyes were fashioned too large and too wide. They were black with onyx instead of steel. Her hair was long whereas she wore it short around her ears, and Dionysus put the rest quite succinctly:

“Did the man ever see a woman? It looks like he made a man and added breasts to it.”

Athena closed her eyes and inhaled for composure. “It matters not what it looks like. What matters is what people seek when they come here. This is not merely a temple to me. It is a sanctuary in times of flood or war.”

“Really?” Dionysus said dubiously as he stared up at some of the finished columns. “One good push and one of these will kill plenty.”

“I won’t have this discussion with you,” she finished, but when she turned around Dionysus whispered to Ganymede, “She’s sensitive about her home projects.”

“You’re pushy about yours,” he reminded, to which the god appeared flabbergasted.

Eros cut in before Dionysus spent a good deal of time defending himself. “Let’s get under proper cover and feed this one before the storm arrives.”

As soon as he said it, Ganymede felt how hungry he was, and the sky was just beginning to thrum with thunder as they made their way to the other side of the city. Athena’s abode was a villa set into the mountainside overlooking the city. As hungry as Ganymede was, he was relieved to not find any servants waiting for them. He and Eros dined on fruit and cheeses while Dionysus took over Athena’s kitchen, although whether they were cooking, battling, or arguing more was hard to say. Eventually a plate of spiced meat in flaky casing arrived, and neither Eros nor Ganymede dared compliment its taste for fear of sparking a new argument for whomever did the cooking.

Ganymede settled on the veranda to watch the rainfall over the city. Cast in greys and blues, the city appeared somber while the weather cleansed and played soft music over the tin and clay roof tiles. He looked down to see the commotion of adolescents playing in the alley beneath the cliff face, splashing mud and whatever else in each other’s faces before an older woman yelled at them from her window.

He reached his hand beyond the roof to catch the rain. Within seconds his palm was soaked and the drops slid over his wrist down his forearm while the watery orbs falling from his fingertips mesmerized his gaze.

The rest of the week progressed in a lazy blur. Ganymede observed the occupants of the city with a detached awareness. He watched young men mark women with their eyes, saw older men wrestle for sport and fight for anger. Women also fought but more often than not, they were occupied with some form of craft. Weaving cloth, cooking, even spinning molten glass into beads and hammering the chains for their necklaces. Though men took on the larger crafts such as forging weaponry and armor, Ganymede could have sworn he saw Apollo strolling through a garden in the company of women. He wore a cloth of choral red around his chest and his bright hair had grown long enough to deceptively braid off of his face. The god flashed a smile at him and continued on his way.

“Why would Apollo be here?” Ganymede asked his companions later that day.

Dionysus stood from his divan with a flourish only to be interrupted by Athena. “Music and the arts are his specialty. The Dionysia is just as much a celebration of him as it is of this fool.”

“But he was disguised among the women,” Ganymede said.

Eros shrugged from his place in the large windowsill. “The twins are androgynous and haven’t much of a care for gender. If you think about it, none of us has a gender. Choosing one helps us connect more with the humans.”

“Why are you male, then?” Ganymede asked.

“Because love transcends everyone, so it is embodied in both myself and my mother. It keeps further disparities from rising between men and women. Plus, I made myself in the image of the most beautiful vessel I could manage.”

He knelt down to grin inches from Ganymede’s face, inducing him to palm that smile and shove him away. “We don’t look entirely alike.”

“No,” Eros admitted. “Either Zeus or mother would ruin me otherwise.”

“Mama’s boy,” Dionysus crooned from where he had collapsed back on his divan.

Eros threw his goblet of wine at him. Dionysus licked red from his lips. Ganymede giggled but could not help but ask, “Why am I considered beautiful?”

The room fell silent while the gods contemplated that. Eros and Athena exchanged a long silent dialogue before Eros replied, “Beauty is entirely subjective and it includes aesthetic as well as internal appeal. The most powerful spirits in this world adore you: Zeus and Athena.”

"What am I?" Dionysus whined.

Ganymede gave him a thankful smile but looked to Athena. He found her looking away. Her profile was elegantly sculpted, her eyelashes softly dusting her cheeks. She looked quite young in the fractured light.

Eros continued, “That’s not to say that Zeus cares for appearances while she only values the mind. I can feel what kind of love rests in a being’s heart as well as at what severity it lives. I will admit that feeling the king and his favorite child’s adoration of you sparked my interest but…it became apparent why they cherished you so. You wield every strength we have but lack all of our weaknesses.”

His words hung heavily in the air. Ganymede felt hollow. “But that’s not true. I feel jealousy as strongly as Hera and…anger comes more easily than it should.”

Athena looked at him suddenly. “Right there. That sets you apart.”

He blinked. “I don’t understand.”

Dionysus yawned. “Intelligence is sexy. For some reason it’s taking three gods to say it. You’re ticking off all the things on our picky king’s list without even trying.”

Eros intercepted before Ganymede asked, “He does not actually have a list. Dion means that you keep sweeping the metaphorical rug out from under our king’s feet. And he likes it. You’re adventurous, curious, and erotic. I’m nearly hot for you.”

A laugh barked from Ganymede’s throat before he sputtered. “Erotic? I’m not—”

“You are,” Dionysus and Eros cut off together. The former rolled off the furniture to crawl towards him.

“You’re the only virgin in here. Don’t be fooled—Athena doesn’t care for phalluses, but that doesn’t make her a virgin. You can just say it.”

He was nearly in Ganymede’s lap, and perhaps it was because Ganymede did not really expect him to do it, but he was promptly proved wrong.

Dionysus kissed him on the lips while his hands found Ganymede’s thighs. His thumbs pressed into the inner flesh while the youth’s eyes blew wide and blinked several times. The sensation on his mouth was incredibly soft and tickling…Ganymede did not realize his lips had parted until Dionysus pulled away only to initiate another kiss. Ganymede’s heart vibrated in his chest, suspended as he realized a tongue was sliding along his lips.

He pulled back with a loud smooch sound while Ganymede sat just as frozen as he had from the start. Dionysus surprised him by rising to kiss his temple and then went to sit with Eros on the window.

“I won’t defend you when he comes for your head,” Athena warned, but mirth was in her tone.

Dionysus closed his eyes against the breeze and the fresh drizzle coming through the window. “I’m not concerned. What are my lips compared to his beloved’s? My hands are small and insignificant compared to those that hold lightning. Zeus will be glad for Gany having some knowledge of kissing from a benevolent source. Perhaps you finally have good material to find your orgasm tonight.”

Ganymede felt himself blush from his hairline to his heart, and he doubled over to hide it in the fabric around his legs. The gods laughed at his embarrassment, but then Dionysus startled in the windowsill. Swinging his legs over to step onto the veranda, he shouted, “It’s started! It’s started!”

Ganymede wiped his mouth as he stood and joined him. “What’s started?”

“The parade! They’re marching!”

In the distance, Ganymede could just see the fluttering fabrics on the ends of poles bobbing through the main thoroughfare. “Where are they going?”

Athena answered while Dionysus ran out of the house, “To the amphitheater. The people are paying their respects to Zeus for raining now so the skies will be clear for the rest of the festival. I imagine we are in for a great deal of livery.”

“Come on, turtles!” Dionysus yelled up at them from the street below.

Outside and up close, the parade was a long body of color. Shirtless men had painted their bodies and wore headpieces to look like satyrs along with—

Ganymede’s eyes bulged, “Why are they wearing…”

“The satyr plays are tonight!” Dionysus cheered. “The phallic erectus makes the serious figures sardonically hilarious. It gives the people permission to laugh at their heroes and political leaders.”

Ganymede’s expression was caught between a closed smile and a grimace as he watched the men dance and do tricks with the long wooden erections hanging between their hips. Though the size was largely inaccurate, he could not fault them for their purpose. The ludicrousness of it all soon had Ganymede laughing as Dionysus pulled him into the parade. A woman with a bowl of blue paint adorned his cheeks and eyes before Ganymede realized she was Apollo. Someone else handed him a half mask. Eros tied it for him with a mask of his own already over his green eyes.

Out of the city and across hills they marched, writhed, and danced. It was only when the parade turned that Ganymede could see their destination: a large dais set deep within the earth while rings of seats lifted out of the crater like a rippling cone. The parade encircled the top of the amphitheater before breaking apart as people descended the stairs to find their seats. Ganymede sat between Eros and Athena as he took off his mask to rake his hair back.

“Where did Dion and Apoll—”

Athena pointed to the stage, where Apollo gathered everyone’s attention by playing a massive horned instrument. His music introduced an energetic figure dancing and acrobatically twisting to the center of the stage. From his full mask hung strings of seashells and metallic ribbons, but it was Dionysus’ booming voice that reached them.

“People young and old, let our tales reach your ears. Let our sorrow fall from your eyes and our mirth lift your voice. For today marks the start of one of many sojourns with the gods, an exploration through time, and an occasion to admire the history we share. Listen well and mark our words, for in humor rests truth. In tragedy rests wisdom, and it is our pleasure to bring them all to you.”

He said more to introduce the first story and the language made Ganymede’s eyes widen. His cheeks ached from smiling as the actors costumed as satyrs swarmed the stage. Their acrobatics enclosed Dionysus from view, but when they separated only his mask remained on the stage floor. The crowd went wild for it, but Ganymede suspected they thought it was a clever ruse whereas the actors momentarily stared at one another.

His chin jerked to the side to see Dionysus joining them. “Nothing like a little magic to get their attention,” he grinned. He leaned in close to Ganymede, “What do you say to joining me on stage later?”

His jaw went slack. “I…” he shook his head. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“You wouldn’t say anything,” the god assured. “We could be a part of the chorus to dance and sing.” He winked. “I’ll find the right place, don’t you worry. I’m thinking the day after tomorrow during the comedies…”

Ganymede listened to Athena provide the history of the characters in the play, illustrating why a figure was a source of more comedy or disdain than another. He quickly picked up how the Athenians held both a high esteem as well as extreme discord with the other Greeks, Spartans in particular. When he asked Athena about this she rolled her eyes and shook her head, as if he had touched on a jaded nerve.

The rain lightened but the skies never fully cleared by nightfall. Ganymede enjoyed the satyr plays but returned to Athena’s villa to rest his eyes and eat before Dionysus pulled him back outside to find the city alight with torches that lined the road to the amphitheater. Pots of oil and wicks sat along the stage for dancers and musicians to be seen but in the hills sloping between the theater and city were hubs of festivity. Tall awnings were sporadically set up along the dirt road to protect platters of fruit and roasted fish from the drizzle. Ganymede and Dionysus lingered along a portion of paved road where barrels of wine and inexpensive ale were being uncorked. The flat space seemed to be a gymnasium since rocks set into the dirt marked wrestling areas and occasionally there were bars for gymnastic activity.

Dionysus wrinkled his nose at the amber fluid. “Try it if you like but if barley could piss, it would taste like that.”

“It’s actually quite nice with a bit of fruit,” Eros interjected beside them. Ganymede accepted his glass and noticed the chunks of lemon and orange within before he sipped.

The gods and some of the humans laughed at his startled reaction. “Why—” he coughed. “Why is it…?”

“The fermentation causes carbonation,” Eros laughed, patting his back.

Ganymede recovered and wiped the startled tears from his eyes. “I’m not sure I like that.”

One of the men who had opened the beer barrels reached over with a fresh glass. “Water and wine with a bit of orange. It might be more for your tastes.”

“Thank you,” he said, washing down the scratchy tingles before Dionysus exclaimed, “They’re dancing! Remember what I taught you?”

Wine splashed out of his glass when Ganymede was pulled to the crowd of people dancing in a circle. Eros took it from him and their cups vanished in favor of a long length of fabric handed to them. Dionysus leapt right into the center, spinning to the music. It reminded Ganymede of when they had danced in Dionysus’ room with his satyrs…before—

“Zeus’s cock! Can you believe this?”

Ganymede startled, losing his step in the dance as he looked behind him. Men who were far more than drunk were speaking in such a way that he could not tell if they were angry or boisterous. He leaned toward Eros, “Why did they say that?”

The dance drew them far into the circle and to the other side. “It’s a method of cursing. Apparently whatever he thought was of such a magnitude that he had to use a god’s erection to describe it.”

Ganymede stared bluntly at him before Eros’ visage broke. They laughed together and became swept up in the music. “That’s silly, isn’t it?” he asked when they parted from the festivity to rehydrate. Ganymede lifted the fabric of his attire to dry his face of sweat.

Eros laughed as he drained his cup. “We can’t all be as poetic as Apollo. Have you ever thrown one of these?”

A number of abandoned discuses lay in the dirt, except for the one Eros threw. It skidded to a halt in the roots of a tree on the other side of the field. Ganymede reached for one but it was heavier than he anticipated. Eros demonstrated how to twist his body, to spin in order to gain momentum before he released it. The discus did not go nearly as far, nor did it land gracefully.

As Ganymede watched it roll and roll farther away the man who had first given him his beverage came over to suggest, “You need to release it so the air catches underneath it.”

Ganymede jogged forward to retrieve the discus and try again—

His fingers froze in the air. Heat engulfed his vertebrae like molten fingers closing around his spine. He shivered as the sensation trickled up his nape and pooled somewhere in his tailbone.

“Ganymede.”

The voice hit his heart like a peal of thunder even though he spoke softly. Ganymede was afraid to turn around, afraid of what would face him, but when he did Zeus stood in the dirtied attire of a festival attendant with a soft smile on his lips. Ganymede’s eyes darted around him and landed on Eros and Dionysus on the other end of the field. They appeared to be swinging their legs over the parallel bars, competing with one another and completely oblivious to him.

“Y-You can s-see me?”

The god approached him. It had only been a handful of days but Ganymede felt his height towering over him as if he had forgotten. Zeus’s hand wavered in the air, gesturing as he said, “Your outline is blurry, but yes. Of course I can see you. I’ll always see you.”

Ganymede swallowed and said slowly, “You’re not angry?”

Zeus shook his head. “I was, but no longer. I understand why you left.”

He averted his eyes as Zeus reached forward. He felt fingers briefly touch his hair. He knew Zeus was lowering the hood of his invisible shroud. His chin fell close to his chest but those fingers hooked under his jaw. “May we walk together? I wish to speak with you.”

Ganymede lifted his face but not his eyes. “You needn’t ask me, my king,” he mumbled.

He chuckled, then. “I will not enforce you.”

“Why not? It is within your power,” he said in a monotone.

The fingers on his jaw stilled and left his skin feeling cold. “Are you so unhappy to see me, Gany?”

He scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “Have you been with us the entire time?”

Zeus did not answer immediately, causing Ganymede to look up and find guilt on his face. “Yes. I would never let you wander the human realm alone, even with three gods.”

Ganymede slouched as he stared up at him. “Were you all of those people? Has every piece of kindness I’ve received been from you?”

Zeus scratched behind his ear. “Of course not. Oenopion and his family were more than hospitable.” He peeked at Ganymede glaring at him and defended, “As if I would allow a sailor’s hands to touch even your feet.”

“But would any of them have even offered to help me?” Ganymede countered.

Zeus’s head tilted. “Do you not think so?”

He was far from sure, and voiced this. “I haven’t often seen a difference between the men and boys or women but they fabricate distinctions that don’t make sense to me. They’re capable of such architectural deeds but the streets are dirty. People argue over foolish opinions and lies…”

Zeus’s head lowered in agreement. “I said once that they are learning. The progress is slow but certain. We must be patient with them.”

Ganymede glared at him and the god had the grace to turn the corners of his mouth down. “We. I’m supposed to be one of these people. I can’t connect with them at all.”

“Is that so wrong?” he questioned.

He had Ganymede at a loss for thought. “I…isn’t it?”

“You don’t live with these people,” Zeus reminded. “You live with me.”

“But I’m one of them, aren’t I? As close as I am to the gods I will always be human first.”

“To put it as honestly as I can,” Zeus began, “when you fell from me, my touch ruined you of all that.”

Ganymede frowned, perplexed. Zeus absorbed his countenance before he closed the distance between them and Ganymede stood statuesque as a hand slid down his nape under his shirt. The god’s voice soaked over him like rain, “It would be easier to let you think my eagle left these scars. I should have let him do it, but I have always had this fault. When I want something, I reach for it myself. My fingers carved into you when I stole you.”

His other hand disappeared inside the folds of his clothing, finding Ganymede’s hip and startling him when it wandered over the bone and round flesh alike. “Have you looked at these properly? I can’t blame you for thinking it was the eagle. You were elusive and not all of my fingers could reach you.”

Ganymede’s hands had risen to clench his fabric, but the unimpressive linen flushed deep red. If he had blinked he would have missed the human garment lengthening into a god’s garnet himation. Zeus’s hands traced each scar on his flesh, first on his hip and ass, then up his lower back and across his spine. The hand resting between his shoulder blades marked the last one rising along his shoulder and nape.

“Why me?”

Zeus inhaled the scent of his hair. “It cannot be explained why we want the people we want.”

And then Ganymede stepped away from him. The king retracted his hands easily. “Then that’s it? You have me and then you have someone else?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No,” Zeus said pointedly.

“Obviously, yes,” he challenged.

“I was with no one for all the years you were in my home, Gany, except the once.”

He sighed haughtily and went to pick up the discus, if nothing else than to put distance between them. Holding it tight against his wrist, he whipped around and released it. The air took it far across the gymnasium…and landed it in the branches of a tree.

“Better,” Zeus conceded. The look Ganymede threw at him was pitiless, causing him to say, “You appear to be expecting something.”

“Of course I’m expecting something!” he erupted, finding new anger inside him. “I’m led to believe that you’ve kept me for your plaything only to be discarded, and then—”

“You were never my plaything,” Zeus declared firmly.

“Then why does this hurt!” Ganymede exclaimed. The words hung suspended in the air between them. His lips were parted as if wanting to summon them back into his lungs. He rushed away.

“Where are you going?”

“To get the stupid discus,” he murmured.

“When was the last time you climbed a tree?” Zeus wondered behind him, following lazily.

“I don’t know! Wait—” he whirled around, halting the god in his tracts. “You mean you wouldn’t have known if I climbed a tree while I was here?”

“Well I thought to give you some privacy when you were in safety of the villas...although there aren’t many with trees inside them.”

Ganymede retreated onto his heels, his features opening. “So you haven’t seen—never mind.”

Zeus frowned. “What?”

“Nothing!”

“Gany.”

“You’re possessive! I thought you would have come here because you were unhappy about…others spending more time with me,” he answered strategically.

Zeus’s eyes narrowed upon him. “What would I have seen?”

“Don’t change the subject!” he countered. “You’ve spoiled me against this place! You’ve made it so that I can’t dwell here without quickly growing bored out of my mind! You’ve kept me in a clean palace where I want for nothing so now I can never return here and live comfortably!”

“I’m…sorry?” Zeus tested.

“No you’re not!” he burst. “You’ve probably been waiting for me to pray to you to come and get me.”

Zeus’s eyes lifted off of him, gazing off at the prospect wistfully. “As nice as that would be, you’ve only prayed to me out of fear and desperation. If that is the cost, I never wish to hear your prayers again. Are you truly unhappy here? One word, a gesture, and I will take you from here.”

He sighed, looking afar at the festival and hearing the music. “No, but it’s not what I expected. My memories of this place are entirely different.”

Zeus gazed at the sky as he said, “Well, you were born and raised in a palace not unlike my own. You’ve never known people quite like this.”

Something inside him felt…relieved by this. “Where am I from?”

“North.”

“Define ‘north’,” he requested.

“Northeast.”

Ganymede turned around and reached for a branch—

“Troy,” he finally consented. “North of Chios. North of Lemnos. Troy.”

His cupbearer turned back to him. “I’m not Greek?” His grip slipped off and he lost his footing gracelessly. Zeus was beside him in an instant, holding him steady.

“No, love. You’re Trojan, before Troy was even the stronghold it is now.”

Ganymede brushed nonexistent dirt from his clothes. “Is anyone I know still alive?”

Zeus guffawed, “Oh alive and more. Your nephew, Priam, has quite a family, larger than my own and still growing.”

A smile teased Ganymede’s mouth before he voiced, “Would he remember me? Recognize me?”

Zeus was somber. “He is known by his people and counsel as an intelligent king who never forgets a good man or an honest enemy…I haven’t any doubt he would remember you. To recognize you though, I cannot say.”

This would be when Ganymede would trace the gold veins in the carafe he carried, or reached out to stroke the feathers of Athena’s owl, Semele’s fur. Without these he worried the cloth around him between his fingers until Zeus took his hands in his own, lacing their fingers together.

Ganymede looked up at him. “Were you never going to reveal yourself to me or was this planned?”

He smiled softly, looking over Ganymede as he said, “Spontaneous. While my children are otherwise preoccupied.”

Ganymede’s eyelids dropped to half-mast as he saw how Athena had been called over to judge Dionysus and Eros’s gymnastic ability. Zeus laughed, “You can’t fault them. They can be swept up in their own festival—” Ganymede shivered slightly, “—Are you cold?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t know how anyone breathes with this humidity—”

Fabric enclosed his shoulders. He faced Zeus’s bare torso while he was swathed in garnet. The king’s waist and thighs were still covered by a pale garment but otherwise the warmth of his bronzed skin glimmered in the faint lantern light. As he tied the himation around him, Ganymede was pulled close enough for a kiss to press on his forehead. “The night looks lovely in your hair, don’t mind it.”

His parted lips closed, pressing together. “I can’t keep this,” he said quietly.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Something about expensive dyes.”

“Ah,” he nodded slightly and then, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I am sorry I hurt you still.”

Ganymede’s hair pressed against his chest, his cranium heavy and resting against the god’s heart. “Why did you want her?”

Arms enclosed around him, body heat melting through his shrouds. “Because it was easy.”

The familiar ache in the back of his throat bloomed, turning his stomach so he felt sick. Zeus’s hand found his nape, massaging there gently while his fingertips dragged up into his hair. “Please forgive me. It is difficult to admit that the boy I stole on a whim grew into a beautiful man. I have struggled to know my place in your life as much as you have in mine. You serve but you are not servile. You are not my pet but not quite my companion either. I have had many children and yet you are the only child I’ve actually raised. Nothing I have ever done regarding you has been easy. I suppose I never expected for you to love me much less to ever want me in that way.”

“Is that why you took me?” Ganymede asked, his voice raw. “For that?”

“No. No, never.” Zeus turned his face up so their eyes could meet. “I took you because I am selfish and cruel. Wanton and foolish, and I wanted someone to drag anything good left within me out for my own blind eyes to see. I have failed in the only thing I’ve ever wanted for myself…to not harm you, and yet that’s all I ever seem to do.”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

Zeus smiled, his hand coming around for the pad of his thumb to trace Ganymede’s lips. “And I’ve never deserved you.”

“Then try harder,” he grumbled, turning his face into Zeus’s palm. “I can’t believe I missed you.”

Zeus chuckled in Ganymede’s hair. “I missed you as well. More than you know.”

“You’re not angry with Eros, Dion, and Athena?”

“No…” He stood up straight. “But that makes me wonder why you have never called me by my—”

“Oh fuck.”

Zeus grinned. “Well, so kind of you to notice, finally.”

Ganymede looked over his shoulder at Dionysus gaping at them. Eros sat with Athena on the bars, who appeared mildly surprised but mostly bored. Suddenly Dionysus proclaimed, “You can’t take him back before he sees the comedies!”

“How did you not notice?” Ganymede wondered. He flapped the red fabric like wings. “How could you miss this?”

Eros tapped his nose in agreement. “In my defense, I had a genius to prove wrong.”

“I wasn’t wrong!” Dionysus argued. “My technique is flawless and inventive!”

“That’s how,” Athena murmured.

Meanwhile Eros lethargically countered as he swung off the bars, “I am superior in this, Dion, don’t bother. My father put me on parallel bars instead of giving me toy soldiers the day I saw sunlight.”

“Ah. And was that before or after you tore yourself off your mother’s teats?”

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Eros dismissed as he gripped Dionysus around his waist and pivoted his weight so they rolled onto the ground.

Athena cut in, “You know, it is a comfort that there is an adult among us. It’s only a disappointment that it’s Gany.”

“It’s not such a surprise you missed me, now,” Zeus murmured beside his ear, lowered as he was to put his arms around Ganymede’s waist.

However the youth narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t be arrogant about it.”

“I’ll feel as happily as I want that you were bored without me.”

His gaze turned deadpan. “You're right, it’s not a surprise anymore.”

Zeus’s countenance fell. “It took three gods to replace me and you were still discontent.”

“You know that’s not why I was unhappy, you idiot—”

Zeus was smiling.

Ganymede removed the himation and threw it over the god’s head. “Never mind. I’m leaving.”

Zeus pulled the cloth off, “Gany…”

“Don’t follow!” he pointed a finger at him and then continued on his way.

“Gany, the villa is that way.”

He stopped, and reevaluated his surroundings. The music was on one side and the beer and wine was on the other…they came in with the latter on the right side…

He shot a dagger at the silent gods as he rerouted and marched back to Athena’s villa.

“He could have just acted like he was going back to the amphitheater,” Dionysus voiced.

“He’s lived in the sky his entire life,” Athena provided. “His internal compass is nonexistent.”