8 • Troy

It was the tingle that woke him: the gentle caress of fingers across his forehead and through his hair, but it was not Apollo’s face he expected to see.

“Lord Apollo?” he said weakly.

“Shh, beloved. You took quite a shock. I am a dab hand at medicine, but you need to stay still.”

Ganymede blinked dreamily as he realized Dionysus’s face was next to Apollo’s, leaning as he was over the back of the sofa. It was Apollo’s lap on which he lay, but Athena was on his other side, her fingers in his hair. “What happened?”

“Apollo knew something was wrong,” Athena voiced quietly.

“But she pulled you out of there,” he picked up. “None of us are quite as invulnerable to father’s lightning as she is.”

“There…” Ganymede uttered, slowly processing. “Where is…?”

“I’ve restrained him,” Dionysus provided.

Ganymede’s vision cleared somewhat. “Restrained?”

A wavy lock of hair fell over his warm eyes when Dion tipped his head to the side. “Perhaps not as harsh as that, but I’ve called on an old friend to keep him occupied.”

Ganymede looked to Athena. “What does that mean?”

His lashes fluttered against the tickles of her nails on his hairline. “Hypnos has him in a controlled slumber. Zeus went willingly into it once he awoke and realized what he’d done.”

“He…” Ganymede tried to remember but his recollections were spotty. “He was talking in his sleep…but a storm…”

The siblings were silent as they gazed upon him. It was Dionysus who uttered softly, “Personally, I think this is Apollo’s discourse, but I’ll say it if no one is willing.”

Athena nodded gently the same moment Apollo chimed gently, “I don’t mind.”

“Your what?” Ganymede worried as Dionysus and Athena left them.

Apollo smiled benevolently at him, his own hand replacing Athena’s. “I know you’re afraid of me. I am sorry for it.”

Ganymede’s heart bobbed in his chest. “I…I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

“Mmm,” Apollo hummed deeply as if considering that. “I knew you would fear me but…in my experience, trying to outmaneuver foreseen things reaps bad luck, so I did not put forward many efforts to change your opinion of me. I knew you would be intelligent, so I chose to let time handle our relationship.”

Ganymede blinked softly at him. “You mean…prophecy?”

“Oh, prophecy is such a…dramatically specific misnomer for it. But to make it easier for you, yes.”

Ganymede frowned slightly. “You knew me? Before knowing me?”

Apollo grinned…and yet his eyes glistened with tears. “Yes. It is quite my fault you have scars on your back, but we won’t talk about that now.”

Ganymede was puzzled as he slowly felt the sensation return to his hands and feet. “My mother is a titan,” Apollo began. “A generation above my father. That is why I have the strength to carry this ability. However the one who gave it to me was Zeus himself.”

Apollo’s warm, turquoise eyes watched him absorb that. “It is not a singular ability, however my mother’s strength allows me to be the one who endures it. My father…has been cursed in so many ways. In moments of weakness, these curses find him again, such as when he sleeps.”

If Ganymede’s organs each had a string tied to them, they would have been pulled from his body, so far did they sink inside him. He rubbed the bottom of his sternum agitatedly. “It’s my fault.”

“I truly doubt that,” Apollo said softly, as if to tease him.

“I asked him to sleep with me,” Ganymede pushed. “I wanted…to dream together.”

The corner of Apollo’s mouth lifted as the backs of his fingers stroked Ganymede’s temple. “I know why Eros adores you so.” Ganymede’s lashes, moist with guilty tears, lifted inquiringly, but Apollo did not elaborate.

“He…he was dreaming of Troy,” he grimaced as he tried to contain a sob. “He won’t let me go now.”

“You wish to see Troy?” Apollo said on a lighter note. “I could take you.”

Ganymede shook his head. “He won’t let me see Priam.”

“He is your lover, not your keeper,” Apollo teased, “and after bringing a storm into your bedroom, I am sure he will eagerly escort you to your city.”

The tears fell freely, unbidden. “My city?” Gany sobbed.

Apollo chuckled warmly over him as he caressed Ganymede’s hair. “You are a prince of Troy, dear one. I know I may not be your first choice to pray for aid, but I will always hear you.”

Tears welled beside his nose before they slid off his face as Ganymede turned into Apollo’s body. “I’m sorry for being cruel to you.”

The god lifted him into his embrace. “You’ve done no such thing.”

Ganymede felt warm and light in the god’s arms. “I’m sorry for not trusting you.”

Apollo only chuckled before his voice lowered. “You’re not cruel yet.”

Ganymede blinked as their hug loosened and Apollo helped him sit up. “I don’t ever want to be cruel.”

Apollo said no more on the subject. “Rest and then go to him. When you are ready, I will take you to Troy.”

The god stood, leaving Ganymede cold by comparison, but only as long as it took Dionysus to appear and push him back down to lounge across Ganymede’s body.

“Umph,” escaped his throat as he landed on his back once more. “You’re heavy.”

“Don’t be rude,” Dion complained on his chest. “Let me listen for a while.”

Ganymede could only guess Dionysus meant his heartbeat, or perhaps he meant to keep Ganymede still for him to rest. Either way, it was a long while before he opened his eyes again. When he did, it was a different hand that stroked his temple, another pair of grey irises looking back at him.

Ganymede blinked, realizing he had slept—

Zeus shook his head gently, his hand burying in Ganymede’s hair and to keep him from rising. “They said you were asleep…?”

“I was,” he murmured. Ganymede felt movement on his diaphragm and looked down to not find Dionysus, but his kitten, bigger and gently flexing its claws on his ribs. “I am in control again, so Hypnos released me.”

As Ganymede’s eyes swept back up to his, however, Zeus’s own darkened. “I’m so sorry, Gany.”

“I understand,” he tried to say, but Zeus shook his head, swallowing thickly. Ganymede reached to hold his hand, to hold his attention. “Apollo told me. I’m sorry I asked you to sleep.”

Zeus’s expression changed as he closed his eyes to kiss his hand. “Don’t apologize. My lack of control over my power is shameful.”

“You could do better,” Ganymede agreed, earning a short burst of air that might have been a laugh under better circumstances. “Apollo told me his ability comes from you. And Athena can wield lightning, so she saved me. I’m all right.”

Zeus leaned his head against their clasped hands, taking a moment to gaze at him. “The best of my children are cursed with my abilities. Apollo’s foresight is far superior to my own… The moment I was born, I asked my mother not to swallow me. I knew, already, the fate of my siblings and what was to become of me, even if I misunderstood the particulars. It was this that saved me. Saved…Apollo carries this burden far better than I.”

Ganymede’s fingers extended to brush over his brow. “I hope I am not scorned…”

Zeus peered at him inquiringly as he elaborated, “I do not care about Rhea or Cronus. When you slept…you were dreaming about Troy… What is going to happen with Troy—?”

His breath hitched in a gasp as silent tears spilled down Zeus’s cheeks. He could only close his eyes, unable to answer. “I...” Ganymede tried but he was not sure what he wanted to ask. “Is it because of me?”

Dark lashes swept up as Zeus fixed his eyes upon him. “I will not breathe life into something that has not happened.”

Ganymede’s throat felt dry. “Apollo said avoiding prophecy brings bad luck.”

But Zeus had begun pressing a trail of kisses down his wrist. “I have always walked my path, whether is was paved with luck or not. I will not do otherwise.”

A tsk tsk lifted his head to look at Dionysus in the doorway. “How reckless. And people think me nonsensical. Now come eat something before I vomit on this depressive subject.”

Apollo’s voice was heard in another room, “You could have phrased that more elegantly.”

Dionysus sauntered out of the room as he retorted, “I wonder how humans would react if they learned the god of the arts can’t cook.”

“I don’t want to hear that from the one who burns half of everything he makes,” Apollo exclaimed.

“It’s a learning process! I do things the proper, extended way. I can’t excuse my mistakes as ‘art before its time’.”

“They are not excuses!”

Zeus sighed as he scooped the cat off of Ganymede’s body. “We must go before they devolve into something more annoying than this.”

The cat blinked groggily up at him from the crook of his arm as he held his hand out to Ganymede. “Like what?”

Zeus sighed, “Dion has a unique talent at getting his siblings drunk.”

Ganymede giggled as he scratched between the kitten’s ears. “What are we doing today?” he asked as they strolled to the veranda.

“Nothing,” Zeus announced. “You are to rest.”

“I’m feeling better.”

“Regardless. I want you to be thoroughly idle for the next few days. We can take the time to see what sort of training this one can manage.” He lifted a brow at the needle-like teeth biting his finger.

Ganymede felt rejuvenated after he ate, and began learning the behaviors of the young cat; which proved either energetic or lethargic with not much variation in between. The sun provided an easy tool to make the creature calm down. The rusty fur glowed on the dock while Ganymede swam in the sea. When he perched on the dock, she roused long enough to paw at his fingertips, but otherwise she reclined beside a likewise napping Dionysus.

Zeus chuckled in the evening when the cat nestled into Ganymede’s neck, the youth’s eyes wide against the tickling softness.

Ganymede was glad for the enforced leisure during the coming days, however. He awoke with Zeus’s lips upon his brow, kissing him and gently blowing cold air to relieve the dull ache behind his eyes. He made his fingers cold as he held Ganymede’s nape to turn his head for more access. The lazy mornings turned into lazy afternoons while Ganymede lounged with his legs sprawled over Zeus, whose warm baritone read him tales of Apollo’s heroes from Athena’s collection.

The nights were filled with laughter as Dionysus reenacted monologues with his brother’s music behind him. Ganymede fell asleep to firelight softly dancing on his eyelids, with Dion’s voice singing his lullabies and Zeus humming underneath.

“How are you feeling?” Zeus purred before Ganymede opened his eyes. He was not in a mental place to voice a reply as he exhaled, gathering the energy to point to his forehead. Zeus kissed him.

He pointed to his lips. Zeus kissed him there too. Ganymede burrowed against his chest, fading back to sleep as a hand crushed his hair fondly.

By the time he pulled himself from bed, it was midday, and his cat came chirping into the room with each step. Zeus rotated from where he was setting up the kindling and logs for the night’s fire.

“Phil,” Ganymede yawned, scooping her up. She wriggled free to stand on his shoulders, earning a laugh from Zeus when she leapt onto the bed to curl into his leftover warmth.

“And all the king’s soldiers and all the king’s men, could not remove the kitt from her bed. Let’s have lunch.”

They walked hand in hand to the parlor, Ganymede’s head swiveling. “Where is everyone?”

“Working for a change,” Zeus remarked.

Ganymede smirked, “What about you?”

He turned appalled eyes on him as he landed on a divan. “Scolding me while I’m on holiday?”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever actually seen you work,” Ganymede laughed. He stood beside the table to bite into a slice of bread piled with tomatoes.

“Because I attend to it while you rest or are otherwise occupied.”

“Is it that bad?” Ganymede said around his mouthful.

“Not so much bad as it is boring and necessary,” Zeus replied. “Athena graciously reprieves me of most of the legality. It’s become more and more rare that she asks me to step into human affairs; we both agree that would negate the point. Humans have learned to manage themselves, and every war or foolish law or social struggle would not be a paving stone toward their progress if we interfered so much.”

Ganymede settled in a chair at the table, realizing how hungry he was. “What do you do, then?”

Zeus considered that. “Mostly I am the guardsman on the bridge that separates godly and human dealings. I’m not very good at it.”

Ganymede chuckled. “What do you mean?”

“Would you believe I try to keep gods from meddling in human lives?”

“No.”

Zeus laughed. “No, I can’t manage that far. So I settle for maintaining that certain spheres of influence remain where they are.”

“Spheres of influence?” Ganymede pressed, gulping water and then picking at the plate of figs.

“I know it’s difficult to believe but there are others…more powerful and charming than myself.”

“Oh boy.”

Zeus’s head jerked. “Don’t sound unsurprised.”

Ganymede giggled, suddenly seeing how Zeus and Dionysus were related. “Do you mean the titans?”

“Yes, the titans,” he sighed, his head falling back onto the back of the divan. “And the monsters, and the cosmos…the only ones I needn’t worry over are the dead.”

“I thought certain titans liked you.”

“Certain. And ‘like’ is a generous kindness,” Zeus refuted. “A great number of them merely tolerate me. The rest…”

“In Tartarus?” Ganymede guessed.

Zeus raised his head. “You know of Tartarus?”

That gave him pause. “I think I heard about it as a child.”

“Quite a memory,” Zeus appraised, “but in truth, there is a great deal in the universe ready to knock our marble off course. So many strings tied in a knot holding us here, and I am the overseer of the strings.”

“This sounds like a lot,” Ganymede murmured.

Zeus chuckled as he stood to move to the table, “From a wider view, yes, it is. But just as a king manages his court more than the kingdom, I manage my family, who oversee everything else. Distribution of work is marvelous.”

He popped an olive stuffed with garlic into his mouth, observing Ganymede until he admitted, “I keep waiting for you to request Troy.”

Ganymede looked up from spreading preserves on his bread. “I thought we were waiting for me to feel better?”

“We are, but there has become a difference in recovery and growing lazy like a cat,” he smiled. “You need only say the word, but I need you to remember that I cannot go with you. It will be Apollo escorting you, and he will be the closest to call should anything happen.”

“What would happen?” Ganymede said pointedly.

“I don’t know,” the god admitted, taking a moment to pull on a lock of his hair that had coiled in his sleep. “Thus my concern. As my own is an example, visiting family is hardly a guarantee of safety.”

“I can’t imagine a king personally blessed by a god would think to betray him. If I’m with Apollo, Priam won’t hurt me.”

“I’m not concerned about him,” Zeus surprised. “His sons are ridiculous. The eldest has the most honor to him but the second one…”

“Didn’t you say Priam had several children?” Ganymede laughed.

“Oh yes. So many grand-nieces and nephews to squabble over Zeus’s favorite.”

Ganymede eyed him, sure it was almost a pout in the god’s mouth. “I’ll stay with Apollo the whole time,” he promised, “except for when I’m with Priam. And if I’m really in danger, I’ll pray to you.”

Zeus was visibly pleased but his eyes were apologetic. “I’ve made it a practice to not intrude on my son’s city.”

“I think he’ll understand if I’m in danger.”

They both looked up at the new voice intercepting, “If any danger so much as turned its head in your direction, then it would be rather embarrassing for Apollo’s city to be the center of the western world.”

“Good day, Pos,” his brother said.

“Mm,” he hummed in response as he bit into a kumquat. “You must be careful bringing food from our gardens here.”

“You needn’t tell me,” Zeus hushed as Poseidon landed in a chair opposite him. Ganymede’s heart retreated against his spine, uncomfortably sitting between them.

“So off to Troy, then? It’s rather unusual, returning stolen goods.”

“You select your wording to offend me,” Zeus warned.

Poseidon argued, “Things were easier when he was merely your cup bearer. Now he is my guest, your paramour, Athena’s ward, and beloved of so many of your children. What next?”

“You always were the most vocal with your complaints,” Zeus disregarded.

“No, no, I’d never usurp that crown from Demeter,” Poseidon smirked.

“Do you have anything serious to discuss with me? Otherwise we will leave you to the palace you are suddenly quite fond of.”

Poseidon scrubbed a hand over his jaw, the long beard shrinking to an even scruff in its wake. “You’re leaving early. I only came to see you were keeping your end of the deal.”

“Everything is better than we left it,” Zeus promised as he stood and held out his hand for Ganymede. The latter looked at him but did not dare voice anything about the cat in his bed—

“Not that you deserve it,” Dionysus’s voice rang as he entered the parlor.

Apollo came from the other side, Ganymede’s head turning to see the cat safely in his arms. “Spontaneity is the vivre that drives joyous pursuits. My city is ready.”

Poseidon stood from the table. “Then I am left with an empty palace once again.”

“You might think to give it to your wife, and resolve your bitterness,” Zeus threw back at him, while Ganymede heard the god’s whisper in his thoughts, Since he does not have a city to occupy his time.

In an instant, he was asleep.

It took longer for him to wake, but he was on his feet, and in a very different place. The sea was on the horizon, less than a morning’s ride away. On the side of the sea, it was like Greece: blue with white, arid stone and flat, tawny and green fields slowly rising into the other side, which was lush with rolling forestry.

“Got your bearings?” Apollo greeted while Ganymede blinked groggily.

“Where are we?” he voiced, feeling Zeus’s hand on his back.

“Outside of Troy,” Apollo promised, a giddy smile on his face as he began to stride through the trees from their small clearing. Sunlight dappled Ganymede’s face as he followed. “I wanted you to see it from this perspective first.”

Ganymede did not understand what that meant, and sent the silent inquiry to Zeus. It was Dionysus beside him who answered, “He’s showing off.”

Still confused, Ganymede turned back around the same moment his shoe landed on inclined dirt instead of soft, flat grass. Zeus stabilized him as he stared up at the towering, cold grey stone.

“I built it!” Apollo boasted.

But Ganymede squinted against the stone that almost reflected sunlight and surveyed the land leading from the sea to the piled ring of soil around the wall…and then the drop on the other side. With an uncomfortable push in his stomach, he realized it was a war trench, like so many he had heard Ares speak of. Soldiers would come from their ships, ride across the acres, and then fall to their deaths before ever touching the wall. Men on foot would tire out on the incline, and likewise perish.

“Uh…” Ganymede breathed, stepping forward to peek over the edge. Usually Ares spoke of sharpened poles at the bottom of these trenches…but this one had filled with water. The mote around Troy was a suspicious grey, and smelled of bad moss.

Dionysus guffawed, startling him. “Mosquitoes and dirt don’t interest him, you nincompoop. The glories of Troy are inside, not in the choleric drain outside of it.”

But Ganymede went back to Zeus and peered up at the top of the wall. He could see the teasing of rooftops on the other side, and nothing else. It was distinctly quieter than Athens was.

He peeked at Zeus, unwilling to tell Apollo that he did not want his first impression of his home to be how men died outside it.

Zeus took the hint and tactfully said, “Gany is spoiled by your arts of music and display, not war. I am rather surprised you started from the…literal and figurative, bottom of sweet Troy’s accomplishments.”

“Because this is the beginning!” Apollo elaborated. “This is what separates Troy from everything else! In the center of sea and land, it was subject to ocean and land malice, human and nature alike. This wall was all they needed to flourish and thrive!”

“That’s redundant,” Dionysus murmured.

Apollo ignored, “This week marks the anniversary of their peace with the north!”

“Every week marks a peace with somebody,” Dionysus moaned. “Everyone wants a fight with Troy.”

“And they don’t get it,” Apollo declared victoriously, “because of this. Armies have marched through these fields and turned around. This wall in itself has ended wars or cut them short. Troy is the fulcrum of the world, and as long as Troy is at peace, so is the western world.”

Dionysus sneezed, puzzling Ganymede until he chimed, “I am so sick of your ranting I have become mortal. Either we enter your bone head of a king’s wine cellar, or I will perish right here.”

Apollo was appalled. “No one invited you!”

“Could we go inside? Please?” Ganymede intercepted.

“No one invites me anywhere,” Dionysus chuckled, “but I am the life of the party. It may be your city but they’re my vineyards stocking the barrels.”

The two bickered while Zeus drew Ganymede back within the trees. “You’re sure? Remember, I cannot go in with you.”

Ganymede was visibly apprehensive. “Not even in disguise?”

Zeus smiled, grateful but sad. “These people are more aware of godly presence than anywhere else. The most I can manage is a breeze on your face.” Ganymede leaned into the palm cradling his cheek. “You may be with the…more incorrigible brothers among my children.”

Ganymede glanced behind him where the gods’ voices were arguing. Zeus continued, “But they both know how dear you are to me. And you are almost as precious to them. Remember that you are a prince here. Apollo will protect you.”

Ganymede huffed, “I feel more exposed than royal.”

“Then don’t be royal,” Zeus said, catching Ganymede in perplexity. A soft, white shawl was pulled from the air as if from the very sky, which he draped over Ganymede’s head and shoulders. “You walk among gods, and you may hide like one. With Apollo and Dion’s help, only those whom you wish to see you will do so.”

Ganymede exhaled a shaky breath, holding the fabric around him as Zeus kissed his forehead. “You are my beloved. Do you know that?”

His eyes softened even as they sank in their sockets. He nodded. Zeus gently cradled his nape. “I would remove this city from existence if you came to harm in it. Know that.”

The hardened glare he wanted flashed in Ganymede’s eyes. “That would mean killing Priam. No, I’ll be fine.”

Apollo interjected, “And you’re not touching a single stone of my city if that’s how you’re walking about it!”

Zeus smirked, “Only making a point. I love you, Gany.”

He lifted Ganymede’s chin for a soft kiss. “I love you too.”

“You will return to me this time tomorrow, and tell me every pleasure you had. I hope there are more than you can remember.”

Ganymede felt the weight in his belly ease with the promise of tomorrow. He nodded as he watched Zeus place a hand on an oak’s bark. His head jerked up as red leaves drifted down from the blushing foliage. In a haze of green, the red was startling. “If you look for me, you will find me.”

Ganymede nodded with more confidence. “Tomorrow,” he murmured.

“All right, love bird, enough of this dreary sewer drain,” Dionysus’s voice sliced through his attention. Ganymede looked back, but Zeus was gone. “Close your eyes, we’re going to the fun stuff.”

It was all the warning he had before the god’s hand slid over his eyes, and then lifted off to reveal a bustling bazaar around them. Ganymede quickly moved out of the way of a donkey lugging a cart through the stone street. He bumped into someone, and whirled around to apologize, but felt Dionysus’s arm curl around his shoulders.

“Lovely little trick of mine: I call it the second glance. We’re not invisible, you see, but the spell is such that…”

He winked at a young man passing by, but the street was on a hill. He looked away to watch his footing, and when he looked back at them, he frowned as if seeing nobody at all. Dionysus finished, “They’re free to see us once, but no more. Hold on to me, darling. You’re precious goods.”

He put Ganymede’s arm in his and held tightly while they moved along the contrastingly noisy streets. Perhaps it was the shawls over their heads that drew attention, but true to the god’s word, vendors and everyone else soon lost interest.

“Where is Apollo?” Ganymede asked.

“Right there,” Dionysus answered. He had not realized someone was walking ahead of them, but Apollo turned around from the top of some stairs. Ganymede blinked, realizing he was using his own spell. A normal, sun-weathered face was who he saw, until he blinked and Apollo’s young radiance was visible. Dionysus seemed to read his thoughts and said, “The fool has used up some so many of his usual masks. Commerce would grind to a halt if anyone recognized him.”

As they climbed higher and higher, following Apollo’s path, Ganymede’s reaction to Troy was how it was much like Athens — only stacked. Athens was flat around the acropolis compared to this place, growing upon hills. Ganymede rather felt like he was walking up a giant tortoise’s shell; so many stairs and broken stones made the going uneasy like the very city was moving underfoot.

But it was beautiful. The stone street was lined with pink petals, the flowering trees growing right out of the walls. Gutters carried runoff and filth quickly downhill, whereas it had loitered in the streets of Athens. If a street was not fragrant with cooking honey, silver smoke wafted over their heads from a blackened dish mounted to the corner of a building. From one, Ganymede smelled clove, from another rosemary, and then he was distracted by pots of lemon trees and wild basil.

It struck Ganymede how there were women here. Not necessarily walking along the street, but the homes were open to the street; windows looked directly overhead, so servants and matrons going about their business could be seen. A wife shouted down at her husband, who was doing a poor job of haggling by her standards. Another berated her brother for not bringing enough wares to his stall.

The distinction among them was that the respectable women were in their homes, with their hair either tied behind their heads or covered. The prostitutes were among the men, their hair perhaps only half-braided while men flirted by putting flowers behind their ears or gifted apples and oranges to them.

As Ganymede passed by, a man approached one of them with coin in hand, but as a child’s arm revealed itself around her leg, the man stopped. He bent down and playfully pulled the coin from behind the little boy’s ear instead, with the order to buy her flowers from the vendor next to the brothel.

“I feel your heart, love bird,” Dionysus chided, but warmly. “I understand. We care for them all, but must leave them to all of the sharp corners and soft beds that life offers. Look there.”

Ganymede did, and saw the bright, polished brass circle mounted on the corner of a building. Apollo chimed, “The suns lead to my temples or to the palace.”

But Dionysus had not been pointing to that. His finger took Ganymede beyond it to the palace suddenly above them. He had been so preoccupied with watching his feet, that the royal home was suddenly right before them. Ganymede realized the stone of the street now had blue tiles running along the sides. The lapis lazuli fed to the frame around the gates of the palace. Made of the same bright stone, the palace was also decorated with blues and purples; long, rectangular flags of tyrian purple fluttered above the gates.

Ganymede stared at the dark wood that was almost as imposing as the walls below. Polished brass made an ornate frame around the doors—

“We don’t use the public door,” Dionysus smirked.

Ganymede knew to close his eyes and found himself in a training yard. He immediately felt out of place as men stood in the saw dust while two sparred in the center. The smaller man wore a helm and the larger wore only his sandals and undergarment around his waist.

“We are not seen,” Apollo murmured beside him. “I won’t take you to personally see Priam until tonight, but I thought you might like to see the measure of him first. It’s been a long time since you were boys.”

Ganymede stared at him, and then ogled the men sparring. “That’s Priam?”

Dionysus laughed but only for his ears. “No. The old man is Priam.”

Ganymede felt dumbfounded as he stared at the man without armor; the only thing distinguishing his age was the silver in his brown hair. A knowledgeable body wielded the sword and shield, but Ganymede just as quickly felt a shadow eclipse his thoughts. Ganymede was by no means a boy, but he remembered Priam not being much different than himself in age. Ganymede had the body of a man grown, even a strong one, but nothing like this. Not hardened by age or war or government.

“He looks smaller clothed, don’t worry,” Dionysus seemed to read. “He does this to show off. And to put his sons in place.”

Ganymede looked at the younger one. “He’s fighting his son?”

Dionysus murmured with an odd, smug chuckle. “These are all his sons.”

There must have been twenty men in the courtyard. Apollo picked up, “The one he’s fighting is Paris. His second eldest. He is marvelous with a bow but gets a little arrogant over a sword when he does not have the skill to match his words.”

Ganymede balked. “Everyone here — how old are these people?”

Something in Apollo changed. It was another moment before he admitted, “Right now…humans live long lives, and are given the leisure as such.”

Dionysus reiterated, “He can’t admit that Paris has a baby face. The twelfth kid down the line looks older than him.”

Apollo sighed, disregarding that and led them into the palace. “Paris was born prematurely. His growth has been different from the others.”

“That doesn’t excuse Priam’s favoritism,” Dionysus countered. “Or Hector’s for that matter. It’s hard to tell a bad grape from the batch sometimes.”

“Bad? Bad how?” Ganymede wondered.

It was Apollo’s turn to laugh. “I’m surprised at you, Dion. Paris is just as spoiled as you were.”

A look of disgust flashed on Dionysus’s face. “Do not compare me to a boy whose head is filled with leaves.”

“Then do better to behave in my house,” Apollo chimed merrily. Ganymede was wondering if he should pray to Athena for her guidance instead of Dion or Apollo’s.

“What’s happening tonight?” Ganymede sidetracked.

Apollo answered, “We will attend the feast. You will watch the court, the family, simply observe, and then I will take you to Priam’s personal chamber.”

“He won’t…take that as an intrusion?” Ganymede worried.

“I’ve already told him I have someone for him to meet. He is eager to meet you, but I have not told him it is his uncle.”

“You think…you think he’ll know me?” Ganymede asked as he peered around the thin columns lining the corridors. It was smaller than Zeus’s, of course, but the teal stone underfoot glistened. The palace’s interior was darker with colors than the outside. Ganymede was not sure he liked the teal over Zeus’s peach.

“I think it would be better for you to introduce yourself,” Apollo amended.

Ganymede was skeptical with how much he agreed with that, but followed Apollo to a spacious room with both an antechamber on one side, and a bedroom on the other. “These will be your apartments for tonight.”

“Ours, you mean,” Dionysus declared as he flopped across a divan.

“You’re only here because there’s a feast happening,” Apollo said pointedly.

Dionysus only replied with a chuckle as he seemed to be settling in for a nap. Ganymede went to the bedroom, which thankfully looked out over a garden instead of the city, but he could not sleep. He could only nibble on the food or minutely marvel at the temples when they took him later in the afternoon.

He was too nervous about meeting Priam. What if he was remembered? If he was not? Was Priam like Apollo? Or Ares? Was he king of the center of the world because he was loved, or feared? What would Ganymede be to him? Someone he had to host or someone he genuinely missed?

All at once, Ganymede felt the feast fall upon him. Dionysus helped him dress in their rooms, trying to soothe him under the promise that his second glance would be over them the whole time. “If someone’s boring, just walk away. They won’t even remember you,” he japed.

Ganymede, however, was staring out the window, feeling very much that Troy was not home. Home was far away, across the see and in the sky…

He blinked, and then squinted. Far outside of the city, in the wild forests, was a red treetop.

And then another.

And another.

The clouds slowly moved over the sky, revealing an orange sunset flooded with pink that made the clouds seem purple. Ganymede closed his eyes against the softest rustle of wind through his hair.

“You ready or what?” Dionysus said, his tone suggesting this was not his first time asking.

“I’m ready,” he replied.

The feast was already well underway when they arrived. Ganymede preferred it that way. The doors were open and the room was full of people sitting and standing, so their entrance was not noted. Dionysus handed him a glass with a gold bottom. “Here, look like you belong.”

“I don’t belong,” Ganymede retorted, and then realized the truth of that.

“Sure you do,” he countered. “You’re as well dressed as Aphrodite over there.”

Ganymede looked down at his clothing, realizing he was wearing a luxurious lapis blue himation with gold pins and belt—

His head jerked up, his eyes finding the goddess instantly. Aphrodite seemed merely patient, and raised her glass to him as it passed to her lips. Ganymede instinctively began to bow, but faltered and discretely lowered his head instead. She looked away and he was free to notice she was sitting at the king’s table. With odd clarity, Ganymede knew she was sitting next to Paris. He was beautiful, with short black hair that was not quite curly, a shapely mouth, and distinct brows. Next to him was an older, larger version of himself, and then a man with silver hair.

Hector and Priam.

Perhaps it was because his silver was mixed with light brown like Ganymede’s, while his wife’s was silver and ebony, but Ganymede’s eyes went immediately to her. She had given her sons their ink tresses and bold features. They were beautifully fierce…but as she gazed at Priam, something soft was between them. Ganymede recognized love when he saw it. This entire party, and he chose to sit with his family.

Ganymede exhaled relief and followed Dionysus to sit down. Suddenly ravenous, Ganymede ate freely whatever Dionysus gave him. Once he was satiated, he nibbled simply for something to do while he observed. The royal family was distinguishable by their features as well as the gold pin they each wore on their shoulders: a golden lyre with a sword passing through it.

As the feast wore on, the family slowly dispersed. Hector wandered, chatting animatedly with everyone like he knew them intimately. He was handsome in a way Paris was not, but Paris was beautiful in a way Hector was not. The elder also had a talent for monitoring his brothers, especially the youngest two: a pair of twins who were the only ones with their father’s light hair.

He caught one under each arm as he both warned and teased in their ears, “Try not to knock over everything, eh?”

Rosy cheeked, they dropped back to the floor, running after one another—

“Hello, Ganymede.”

He froze, knowing her voice even if she was in disguise as she slid into the seat next to him. “My Lady,” he replied, not daring to name her with so many ears around.

“You’ve come a long way,” she commended. “No longer the terrified servant.”

“What can I do for you, my Lady?” he asked, hoping his impatience was not untoward.

She eyed him like she was nowhere near fooled. She slowly moved her glass so the contents lazily swirled around the vessel. “My son has spent a great deal of time with you.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “Yes, my Lady?”

“But he is not with you now. Where is he?”

His lips parted as he shook his head. “I do not know, my Lady. I have not seen him for…weeks, actually,” he realized. “Is he all right?”

Aphrodite stoically gazed at him, possibly estimating his sincerity. “He is my son. Of course he is all right.”

She did not say any more, but nor did she leave. Ganymede felt prompted to say, “May I ask, what has brought you to Troy?”

She turned back to him, but when she did not reply, he explained, “Even Apollo comes disguised. I only wonder…I don’t mean to sound rude, my Lady.”

Aphrodite laughed, her voice warm and lovely enough to turn heads despite being quiet. “I am not the patroness of Troy, no, but Zeus is not the only one with favorites.”

Ganymede’s eyes involuntarily flicked to Paris, who stood with young men about his age. His gaze kept turning to Aphrodite restlessly. “Oh. You and…um.”

He shook his head, realizing just how invasive it was what he asked, as well as how much he did not want her answer.

Aphrodite laughed merrily, earning more looks and a lingering stare from Paris. “No, not that kind of favoritism. Sometimes I just like to spend time with beautiful things. Although there is a sort of mentality to a forbidden lover that has always appealed to me. Goodness, you’re full of assumptions.”

Ganymede had looked away indignantly, but she read him more easily than a book. “I meant nothing by way of your relationship with Zeus. How hypocritical of me to inspire an end to love when I am its endurance and my son its beginning. I meant the sort of love you will never experience. The kind of love that can end as swiftly as it begins. The reckless, mindless love that is simultaneously pure and devotional.”

Ganymede stared at her, absorbing her words. “Zeus and I are not like this?”

Her gaze fell on him and it was difficult to tell whether her eyes were onyx or amber or turquoise. Ganymede could only guess he saw through her disguise better than anyone, and how her beauty was ever changing.

“No, dear swan,” she purred. “It isn’t and it is. Your love is of the greatest kind…but even evil is measured in greatness.”

He frowned, exhaling stubbornly, “Why do you have to be one of the gods who doesn’t give a straight answer?”

She giggled, “Because I have to test what mettle Athena has made. It’s rather a delight, seeing you here.”

“You said I didn’t have family living,” he remembered.

“I said nothing of the sort. I said they did not matter. When you live among the gods, what care should you have for mortal pleasures?”

“That’s a little hypocritical,” he countered. “If pleasure is a flesh pursuit.”

Her glass paused on her lips. “Watching your life will be very interesting.”

He sighed again. “I don’t want this existential conversation—”

“You are saved from it,” she finished, looking up at Paris arriving to their table.

“Good,” Dionysus said from Ganymede’s other side. “I despise being ignored.”

She smiled. “I only wonder how you managed to be silent for so long. Yes, dear?”

Paris looked between the three of them, appearing immensely confused and uncomfortable by it. “May I invite you back to my table, my Lady?”

“No, I rather enjoy wandering,” she refused, but slid her hand down his forearm. “Look ladies in the eye when you mingle with them, instead of looking at me. They will control their husbands and help your princely pursuits.”

Ganymede heard a scoffing sound and glanced at Dionysus’s head resting on his fist with extreme boredom. He looked back around when he heard, “Do…do I keep seeing you? I should remember you; you’re dressed like a royal guest. I hope you do not take insult at my ignorance — perhaps you were late this evening?”

Dionysus cut in, “A keen mind never takes insult from the comments of an idiot.”

Paris blinked, huffing a proud laugh, but when his lids shielded his gaze, his lashes lifted upon a confused face that looked between him and Ganymede. “I’m so sorry, of what were we speaking?”

Aphrodite squeezed his hand. “Go away, darling.”

Puzzled but polite, the young prince left them. Dionysus moved his tongue over his teeth while he watched the man leave. “I could pitch him into ecstasy without a thought.”

“You won’t touch a single foolish curl on his head,” Aphrodite warned charmingly.

“Just saying, it’s not a conquest if they’re easy.”

“And as I’ve said, he isn’t a conquest. He had the courtesy to invite me, so I obliged in coming.”

“Why does a lover have to be a ‘conquest’?” Ganymede sidetracked. To his relief, Apollo was moving into the seat opposite him.

“I quite agree! What fun or true pleasure is there if the party is divided into a greater and lesser? If love is a war, let it wage on the bed with laughter and conversation as the weapons. This division has put the sexes at such a toxic impasse. Don’t you miss the days when women mounted as readily as men?”

“Stars, yes,” Aphrodite moaned, her temple on her fist much like Dionysus’s.

“The fault has been a dichotomous pairing between men loving their own cocks more than their lady’s nethers, as well as a crippling self-deprecation,” Apollo considered.

Ganymede groaned, “Why are we talking about genitals?”

“I agree. They hardly matter,” Dionysus proclaimed. “How many lovely ladies have you adored, charming Aphrodite?”

In answer, she smiled warmly. Dionysus continued, “And I think we’d each agree that genitalia so often amounts to the quality of the brain on top of it. He’s a fine example.”

His jaw settled into his hands as he ogled Hector walking by. Ganymede stared between them. “You like Hector?”

“Who doesn’t like Hector?” he countered like it was an insult. “He’s far better than that ponce.”

Aphrodite noted, “We have rather different tastes. Sometimes one’s intelligence is not in their brain so much as their instincts.”

“From one slut to another, your taste is rubbish,” Dionysus retorted. Aphrodite guffawed.

Ganymede sent a pleading look to Apollo, who smiled with a glance sideways. Ganymede followed it to the king leaving the banquet with his wife. “Ready?”

Ganymede nodded nervously. “Give my regards to your nephew,” Dionysus chimed.

As Apollo led the way through the palace, Ganymede worried, “What about the queen?”

“They leave together but he reads into the night,” he assured. “I’m taking you to his study.”

The room in question was rather like Zeus’s rooms. High in the palace, the wide doorways and multiple windows presented a view as if they were suspended in the night sky. The wind moved the drapery and crackling dishes of coals cast pillars of orange up the walls in between book cases. There was a desk for writing as well as a table messily piled with maps, wooden figures of ships and chariots.

Ganymede looked at the terrace running around the room. He peeked at Apollo reading a document weighed down by a miniature bronze statue of himself on the desk, and then stepped outside. Above was the great splash of stars and color Zeus had put there. How long ago was that? It felt so recent yet Ganymede knew it was possibly years ago—

“My lord Apollo, welcome. I would have greeted you better—”

“There is no need. Anonymity was key for this night. Raise your eyes.”

Ganymede’s feet moved on their own, coming to a halt inside the room as similar amber-green eyes lifted from where Priam knelt on the floor, locking with Ganymede’s.