Love and Fortune

Author's Note:

This is Chapter 2 of Book 2 of the Love and Fortune series! If you're new, feel free to start at the beginning of Book 1, but know that Book 1 is mostly laidback sexytimes, without much of a gripping plot. If you'd rather start with the action, feel free to jump in at Chapter 13 (the start of Book 2, which is more about adventure and conflict).

This Chapter Contains:

a revisionist history of the Trojan War, jealous goddesses and their machinations, a celestial kidnapping, a call to a modern-day mythic quest, a

very serious

nudist community gathering, Chaos Magic, all the usual haremy indulgence, and a private flight with delicious perks. As always, you've been warned.

Chapter 14: The Call

THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO

The city of Troy was burning.

The war, at stalemate for years on end, had turned suddenly in favor of the Greeks. The trick by which they'd earned their victory would no doubt go down in legend. The victors would write it into the annals of history: a masterstroke of subversive genius. It would be one of their greatest tales of war and strategy.

But in the moment? There was fire. There was death.

"You caused this."

Eris didn't turn at the accusatory voice. Her eyes remained fixed on the carnage, her dark hair and golden robes flapping in the scorching wind. It was a vision of pure destruction -- of discord writ large. And from high above, where she hovered, unseen by all who fought below, she could see it in all its blazing glory.

She shrugged, her lips curling into a small smirk. "And? Wars happen. Mortals bicker. With or without me, cities would burn."

"Without your golden apple, perhaps this one wouldn't have."

That made her laugh. She turned at last to her accuser, the lead in a lineup of Living Goddesses who hung in the ether nearby, their expressions set in varying states of anger and disappointment.

"Oh, come on," the Goddess of Discord said. "Are we still on about that?"

"Ask that to the men fighting below. To their wives and children. You've doomed many thousands. And for what?"

Great Cosmos eternal

, did Eris ever despise Artemis and her self-righteousness.

The Living Goddess of the Hunt wore the leathers and the bow of her vocation. Though her face was stone-hard, there was a softness to her voice that betrayed deep sorrow. That latter emotion stood out all the more in the dark-skinned deity on her right: Zawadi, Living Goddess of Love and Fortune, here all the way from the heart of Africa tonight. At her left, Parvati leaned further into the sternness Artemis showed, her own sharp gaze even more disapproving.

"So many of us have been turned against one another in the years of this war," Artemis said. "Living and mortal alike. Our champions and followers have been divided in a conflict they never needed to be part of. All because you wanted to cause strife and discord. All because of your ridiculous prank."

Eris rolled her eyes. "Am I the one who started it? After you all snubbed me from that fancy wedding? I was well within my rights to have a little revenge. Really, you all should have seen it coming."

"This was a disproportionate retaliation for a mere oversight," Artemis snapped back.

"This war? I didn't even start that. Just tossed an apple. The rest? That was good old human nature... and no small part of your own vanity."

Everyone present recalled the day that had led to the war. It had been intended as a celebration of a beloved devotee as he took a wife. Many of the Living had come to preside, their own followers tagging along to offer gifts and good wishes. It should have represented a special moment of peace. Instead, it had become a moment of division.

Eris had snuck into the festivities, not caring that she hadn't been invited. She was the Goddess of Discord, after all -- the thought of someone like her crashing the party was a frightening prospect to many of its high-strung organizers, who would no sooner have invited a Bedlam Spirit or a Nuckelavee. But Eris had come, and she'd brought a party favor of her own.

The goddesses present had all vied for that golden apple, each one claiming her right to the prize. Eventually, in the interest of fairness, the choice had been left to one humble, mortal guest at the party, surely one without any biases or prejudices. But the Living had all tried to sway him, each one offering to make him their devotee in exchange for his judgment in their favor. In the end, the decision was made, and a goddess of beauty had come out on top.

But the discord Eris had sown that day was far from over. Her golden apple was a seed that had grown into a terrible tree. The goddesses' squabbling had led to a rift between their devotees -- and in time, that rift had sparked a war. Now, Troy burned.

Thinking back on it all, Eris couldn't help but laugh. What a perfect outcome. What a wonderful display of the nature and the folly of the other Living. They'd all been so caught up in their vanity and their pride, they hadn't realized she'd played them all. A humbling like that would do them good, she'd thought in the aftermath. Perhaps they'd learn to take her more seriously from now on.

But Artemis and her companions didn't seem to have seen it that way then, and they certainly didn't see it that way now.

"All you have ever brought is ruin." It was Athena who spoke now, her voice as sharp as her weapons and wit. She wore the bronze plates of the warriors she championed -- many of whom had fought and fallen in the conflict below. "You are a blight on the Living, Eris. You sow chaos and destruction wherever you go. You care nothing for the lives you ruin and the hearts you break."

"Yadda, yadda, yadda," Eris retorted, rolling her eyes. "Hey, at least it was your devotee who ended the war before it really started to drag. Came up with that 'hollow horse' idea. Shouldn't you be down there praising him, not haranguing me?"

"I'll be with him soon. He misses his family, he's known a lot of pain, and he'll have a lot of trials ahead of him before he will know the peace he deserves. But you're not thinking of that. You're not ever thinking of anything but your own amusement."

"And you wouldn't know amusement if it hit you between the eyes, 'Thena," Eris shot back. "Be honest. Were you really enjoying that dull, dry party before I spiced things up? Were you enjoying the world as it was, either? You're a war goddess, not just the wise professor you like to sell yourself as first and foremost. Don't tell me you didn't like all the action once the spears and shields came out."

Athena's eyes flashed with anger. "I'm a goddess of strategy. Of cunning, and cleverness. Not of bloodlust and violence."

"And I'm a goddess of freedom. Of letting go. Of breaking down barriers and letting people be their true selves. And of having some damn fun every now and then. But you'll never understand that, will you? I always have to be the villain, don't I?"

"I have heard enough." Parvati's hard judgment cut through the air, silencing both Eris and Athena. She stepped forward, her dark eyes full of scorn. "You are a danger to the world, Eris. You always have been. Whatever twisted way you see your actions, we of the Living have seen enough of them. I think I speak for all of us as I say this: we want nothing more to do with you. Consider yourself excommunicated from our sisterhood and our ranks. From now on, you should not bother involving yourself in our matters and those of our devotees."

A silence fell. No Goddess around could find words to protest the Living Goddess of Power and Harmony's decree -- not even Eris. She stared at Parvati. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her lips.

"If that's the way you'd have it, so be it," she said. "I'll leave you to your boring little sisterhood. I'll be more than fine on my own. Parvati, I'll bet that even you, in all your vigilance, haven't noticed the little seeds I've been spreading around the world in my downtime. Seeds of my influence, set to grow everywhere they can find purchase."

She looked to the Olympians present. "Unlike you, I've never been satisfied keeping my reach limited to just this part of the world. I've been whispering in the ears of men and women all over the globe. I've made people question the ways of old and seek new answers. Already, little sects in far-flung lands are coming to know me by new names, under new contexts. So if I can't be part of anybody's pantheon?" The goddess of discord grinned. "Then I'll make my own -- where it's all me, myself, and I."

"Such actions sound ill-advised," Zawadi warned. The African goddess's expressive eyes seemed almost sad. "Many like us have tried such ploys for power, only to see them backfire. You'll only find yourself weakened, your energy divided and darkened all along. Please. Think better of this."

But Eris just shrugged. "It's rich to hear that from you, Zee. Haven't exactly committed to any pantheons down there in wild Africa, have you? You've been going it alone from the start. You don't need other Goddesses to muck and meddle with your business. Perhaps neither should I.

"Maybe I'll be stronger without you all," she boasted. "Maybe I'll find devotees who can appreciate my gifts. Maybe one day, when the world really needs me... I'll show all of you what I'm capable of."

"Or maybe," Artemis said, "you'll only bring more ruin. And you'll only have yourself to blame."

The Goddess of Discord stepped back from the others, her smile widening. "We can play the 'maybe' game till the sun burns out. But none of us can know, can we? Goodbye, sisters. You'll hear from me again -- maybe sooner than you think."

With a golden flourish of light, Eris vanished. The remaining Living Goddesses were left staring at the spot where she'd been, their minds a tumult of thoughts.

"We must ready ourselves," Parvati warned. "Or destruction like this could erupt the whole world over."

Artemis nodded, her expression hard. "Yes. We must be vigilant. Today marks one of the worst catastrophes in the human world since the sinking of the city people now call Atlantis. But what's coming could dwarf either."

"We should root out these places where Eris has sown her seeds." There was fire in Athena's voice. "And we must warn the local Living in every such place. We cannot let Eris spread her influence unchecked. We must find a way to counter her."

Zawadi's response was one of resigned weariness. "I hear your frustration, Athena, and I share your worry. But such is not our duty as Living Goddesses. We cannot interfere directly with the mortal world and its courses, no matter how much we might wish to. We can only guide and empower those who follow us. That is the way of things."

"Zawadi is right." Parvati's beautiful face was grimly set. "It would be a desecration of our duty to prevent any Goddess from taking up devotees. That custom is as integral and sacred to our nature as anything. All we can do is trust in our own devotees, and in the other Living. May positive energy prevail."

None could disagree with that. They all knew the truth of it.

They also knew that the days ahead would require their utmost vigilance and strength. The world was changing. But the Living would go on.

"I will watch over my people," Zawadi said, her kind eyes solemn. "And I will do all I can, in the ways I know best. But I fear for the world."

"As do we all," Athena concluded.

And, leaving the burning city behind, the small council of Living Goddesses dispersed into the dark night.

***

PRESENT DAY

The sun was setting over the Aegean, bathing the Greek Islands in golden light. A warm evening breeze blew through the trees -- and around the small beach where the Living Goddess stood, the island of Karpathos was preparing for sleep after another peaceful day of small battles, small victories.

Nike loved her homeland, as she always had and would forever.

The Goddess of Victory stood still and resolute, her bare feet sinking into the sand, the wind stirring her long hair and thin white robes. Her beauty would have been a sight for mortal eyes, but none were around -- and even if any were, they would no more have seen Nike than the wind itself. Invisible, intangible, the Goddess was like a force of nature: a presence that could not be touched, but touched everything. A part of the land and its natural magic.

Nike had no devotees.

That was not for any lack of belief in her, or want for what she could offer. Many in Greece still revered the Olympians -- and everyone, in some way, longed for victory in something. But Nike would never take on a champion, never bestow her gifts on any mortal. Too great was the risk of that person being corrupted; too great was the risk of her power being used for evil.

What she could grant, after all, was something many of the world's cruelest mortals would have gone to terrible ends to have.

She could assure success in any venture, any contest, any struggle. The winner of a war; the champion of a tournament; the victorious voice in a debate -- she could give them all the edge they needed. In any other hands but her own, such a gift would surely be abused. She had seen it happen before. She had seen the ruin it had wrought. She would not allow it to happen again. What the world did not need was more victory for the privileged and greedy.

And theirs, much to her dismay, were always the voices she heard the loudest.

Grant me the power to win.

Whether or not they prayed to her directly, their lust for victory was a constant in her ears. She heard them in the boardrooms, in the halls of power, in the private chambers of the wealthy and the elite. Politicians. Businessmen. Generals. All of them seeking her favor, seeking her power, seeking her blessing. They never cared about the cost or the consequences; only about their own gain.

Make me the victor,

their minds begged her,

and I will do great things. I will change the world. I will make it better.

But Nike knew better. She knew that such people rarely sought to improve the world. They only sought to control it -- to use it for their own ends. She was long since done being the patroness of such people. For them, whatever would be, would be. She would not lend them her advantages.

Nike's gifts came instead to the deserving, though they rarely understood why or how. She granted small victories to the downtrodden, to those who faced oppressive odds stacked against them. To those who desperately longed for just one good break. The young man who needed that job interview to go well so that he could support his family. The woman battling for her life against addiction, who needed the strength to say no to temptation. The child sitting alone in the schoolyard, longing for just one friend to appear. Nike was there for them all, in her own way. She danced invisible around them, feeling their prayers for victory, for success -- and granting them what she could. Didn't the world need underdogs to win, after all? Didn't the world need hope?

Today she had flown over Karpathos, flitting from household to household, blessing those who needed her. She had granted a small victory to a young mother, helping her stand up to her abusive husband. She had helped a meek man find the courage to speak his mind against those who would silence him. She had lent a child the strength to face her bullies. Small victories, perhaps, but victories nonetheless. And in a world where the powerful seemed to grow stronger every day, every small victory mattered.

As long as she existed, this would be her mission.

Taking off from the soft sand, Nike flew. A setting sun and waning moon lit up a world that, for all its rot and corruption and cruelty, could be a beautiful place. Stars twinkled above her as she soared over the sea and land, feeling the elements on her skin.

But then she felt something uncanny. No -- worse than that.

A force was pulling her down to earth, tugging at her essence like some great magnet. She struggled against it, but it was too strong. She was made helpless before she could even think of fighting back.

What in the Great Cosmos was doing this to her? No mortal had the power; no Living Goddess had the intent. Even Eris, the greatest troublemaker of the Living, would never have mounted an attack against a Goddess as beloved and respected as Nike. She rushed to perceive what she could in the short time she had the chance to: the energy was tied to a spell. A magick of some kind. A trap for her essence. And someone had set it with clear, wicked intent.

It occurred to her why.

No! No sorcery like that still existed in the world! All of the authorities and institutions of Earth had long since abandoned any such pursuits. And devotees of the Living were unobtrusive in the use of their own patrons' magic. So who, now, had this power?

She panicked.

Her shriek went far and wide, a sound of fear and despair. She was Nike, the Living Goddess of Victory, the one who granted success to those who deserved it -- and she was about to be captured, bound, and made to serve a new master. What intent that master would have for her was something she dared not imagine. But she knew it could be nothing good. And she had no devotees. No champions who would come to her aid. No one to protect her from the darkness that now threatened to swallow her whole.

Desperate moments called for desperate measures.

"Devotees of all Living." She projected the psychic message with all her deific fortitude, knowing it must be heard by any mortal who could sense her kind -- anyone at all who might just be able to help. "Hear my call. I am in peril! I am in need of your aid. Find me. Free me. Please -- for the sake of all that is good in the world!"

Then, with a final cry of anguish, Nike was gone.

***

Ben never slept alone at the Haven. That night, in Belle's wide bedroom, with its colossal mattress decked in lavish silks and satins, he lay surrounded by plenty of the women he adored. With the window open and the moonlight shining in from outside, the scene was peaceful -- made even more so by the soft sounds of his lovers' breathing as they slept.

He should have been exhausted. The afternoon's physical exertions would have worn most people out. But Ben was a devotee of Zawadi, blessed by magic boons. Little could exhaust him, least of all anything like what he'd spent the back half of the day doing.

Not that it all had been idle pleasure. He'd done his fair share of 'homework' in the library. He had read from volumes that Priyanka and Ruby had passed him, perusing the valuable arcane knowledge within... while one or multiple pairs of unfailing, dutiful lips remained wrapped around his cock.

It was still the Haven, after all.

Sometimes the women switched. Sometimes one eager companion would turn the pages for him, or point to something that caught her own attention on the page. But most of the time, they kept themselves too occupied with his body to offer much more than their presence. Not that he minded that. Magic attunement, heightening his focus more than any man-made drug ever could, meant their would-be 'distractions' were just another thing to pay attention to and enjoy alongside the books.

The experience beat any scholarly pursuit he'd ever undertaken. Back in college, whenever he'd hit the stacks of the library to find study material or references for a paper, it had rarely ever been anything but dull. The old campus building was stuffy and dim, and the studious people who frequented it were about as sensual and vivacious as the furniture. The library's resources had been dry and uninspiring; the learning he'd done among these books had been sterile and boring.