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Summoned Part Three

Discretion Advised 18 ++

Warning smut of minor characters.

In total, eight golden apples had been given, including your own. None of your fellow beings hung around, either insulted by their lack of an apple or not wanting to outstay their welcome. Lord Morpheus had not always been known as the most hospitable of Gods. For most it was the first time that they had be graced with a visit to the dreaming. 

Without the crowds, the palace was empty, isolated. In the distance, the vivid prairies of the Dreaming seemed almost magical, like the time before the first war and every so often, the winds would carry to sounds of the visitors, the pureness of humanity as it had once been. Yet it gave you no comfort. You were trapped out on the edge of billions of dreams, trapped by wolves, vipers and vultures, ready to attack in one swift movement.  

After all, that is what you would do. You had been a Goddess long enough to know how it worked. The King wanted that; of course, he did; how better to discover his new consort than in a thinly veil battle between his chosen candidates. Why you, though? You prided yourself on your skill and knowledge but were humble enough to know you could not compare to the others. So why was it that you received one?  

The apple still tasted sweet in your mouth; even after a few bites, the taste lingered, swelling magic within you. Yet, trapped here, the apple seemed so insignificant. What use of magic against an Endless being? Before you might have used your cauldron to poison the whole court or to bring about the humiliation of some of the snobby upper-ranked Gods or Goddesses but being stuck here with the icons of war and nature was concerning. You had always prided yourself on surviving; it is why you were still here after all. For how much longer, though, was not certain.   

For the most part, you could cling to the outside of the group. It was not too difficult, the others had a way of demanding attention, and when the King graced the assembly with his presence, it was partially easy. Though he never spoke without good need, he seemed content to simply listen to the gushing's of the other deities. And they sort constant attention from the King.  

Tired eyes scanned the current assembly, all dressed in finery.  

Kratos was a figure you had only known by name before this; he was seven feet of God, his face a stoney canvas of cruelty, which certainly lived up to the rumours. Tonight, his outfit covered very little, it was a low toga, which left little to the imagination, but it dominated the room with his bulging muscles. Much to Indra’s chagrin. The King of Davas, Indra, whose dark skin glistened with the rain that followed him; his physical was not as impressive; yet his power made the skies shiver as he sent lightning bolt after lightning bolt into the air. Much to the dismay of the God of Sparta. 

Aphrodite was Aphrodite; even in her previous demised state, she still retained that air of beauty that allowed her a degree of trespass that no ordinary creature might take the liberty of. Olive skin shinning out against the baby pink of her gown, wrapped in a gold lifted crown, but now she had consumed the apple, she gave off a blinding shine, as was the shell she had been draped over. Which was dangerously close to the throne. You did have to give it to her, though; she had to position her just so that it gave her a rather wonderful outline.  

Next to Aphrodite’s shell Bastet, sat tall, will all the regal bearing which one would expect from a cat, slender and aloof, just as you would expect from a God of the Old Kingdom. Unlike their Greek and Roman counterpart. Bastet exuded royalty, much like the Spring Goddess Ostara.   

Ostara was the most well-known to you; after all, she had many guises, like most deities. She had been known as Eostre and often sorted the knowledge of the cauldron from you or your mother. That was after she had been Persephone, of course. She had finally become sick of Hades and his many nymph lovers, Leice, Minthe and, of course, Theophile, the stupid girl who claimed that Hades loved her better than Persephone, which was the finally straw before she completely abandoning the underworld for life as her own goddess, as the Spring Equinox.   

To see all five of the supreme gods together made the remaining choice all the more questionable. They at least had carved a mark on humanity; they had prestige, power and a pedigree. The rest of you did not.  

Spriggan was the strangest choice, stranger than you; they had spent their entire life in the remote lands of the British Isles. It preferred to peak out from one of the pews, and closets to the King, never talking, just watching.  A tree spirit that was neither man nor woman or at least gave the impression of it. Moss covered its skin, making it impossible to tell its age; wizened like an old man or woman, but what skin you could see was smooth like a child.  

Like you, Puck lingered at the side, or as many knew him, Robin Goodfellow. His dark, mischievous eyes darted from side to side as he strummed lazily at his lute, occasionally stopping to tune the strings.  You had been travelling through the pit of desire that had become London when you stumbled upon the sprite teasing Shakespeare. You had been friends; you even helped him make his name with a simple one of your potions. After all, how better to immortalise yourself by putting yourself in a play by the bard himself and becoming the epitome of fairy kind. That had been before he betrayed you. 

You really wished Puck had kept his mouth shut. Perhaps he wished to deliver you some favour with the King, or perhaps he saw this as an opportunity to direct the other god's attention away from himself and onto you so he could make his move. Either way, it would bring you no end of trouble. You did not like how the burning eyes of Lord Morpheus fell on you so intently they seemed to pierce right into you, more so the way the others glared at you.  

"... it's true...little witchy, tell them it's true," Puck giggled as he twirled around, the material of his ridiculous costume fluttering in the air around him.  

You bristled at the nickname. Narrowing your eyes at this little fiend as he twirled around you.  

"...did the fae really trick this John Dee to allow another man to bed his wife and father her children?" Bastet's voice purred, whiskers twitching in the air.  

"He was only meant to pretend to let the pompous old fool believe he was talking to the angels... but like always, Puck took it too far." You hissed as the fairy pirouetted away.  

"And the meany witch put a stop to it...but I got you back! Did I! I got you back good." You hated the child like glee that filled his voice.  

"If having me hanged as a witch class at that." you snapped.  

"Hung by humans...how quaint." Bastet perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched, amused.  

"That's not the best bit, Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble..." he cackled "I made her and her silly cauldron the centre of Shakespeare's best plays."  

"And in doing so spread the propaganda that condemns many.' You snapped.  

'So, a few little humans died. They breed like rabbits, kill one, and seven more take their place."  

‘’A few....’’ You growled. 50,000 people, men, women and children burned, drowned or hung. 50,103 to be exact. 

‘’This is boring,’’ Aphrodite pouted, ‘’can't we have music? I adore dancing; Fae plays something! I wish to dance for My King."   

The eyes shifted and you were forgot once again as the music filled the air and Aphrodite began to sway. Enticed b the way her hips shimmed. All eyes except Ostara’s, who abandoned her seat to stand next to you. 

"Nicely played, but don’t think this aloof fair maid act will get you somewhere. But it will not work. Watch yourself; those here will not hesitate to get rid of a little thing like you. Watch your back, little one."   

Xx   

The gathering had long since broken up. Ostara's warning, or threat twirled over in your mind. Puck has put you in a stupid position. A dangerous one. One that made walking the halls alone a night dangerous. If they are though you a threat, one that could be easiest gotten rid off, your life would be in peril. But you had grown tired of staring at the four walls of your rooms. You did not want the companionship of the others, not that there was any to take, especially with Ostara and Puck seemingly disserting you. Puck, you could understand, but not Ostara; she had been once your surrogate mother.   

"Good evening, My Lady." the familiar pleasant tone cut through the silence.   

The dark skin elf from the gather stood at the side of the hallway dressed in the same immaculate dress suit. Buttons polished to a soft gleam. The flower still pinned in their buttonhole. 

"What are you still doing here? Will not the King be annoyed that you have not departed with the others?"   

You were aware that some of the Gods had disappeared into the Dreaming to revel in the pleasure of the place a bit longer, but if the King found an unwanted being still lingering in the castle, there might not be a pleasant outcome.  

"I fear he will be even more annoyed if I leave, My Lady; I am Lucienne, the chief librarian and guardian of the Dream realm. Forgive me; I should have introduced myself earlier but did not wish to trespass on the gathering." She smiled.  

Now that was something unexpected. Many creations graced the place, attending to the gods that currently had taken up residence. But not one that was trusted enough to be a Guardian. Now that might be useful information.   

You returned the smile. "You still wear my flower. Has it bloomed yet?"  

"Yes, my lady, it is rather beautiful, and I cannot bear to take it off."  

Pride blossomed within you; you had made it yourself nurtured, tended it, till it was just right before picking it. It was appreciated.   

'Well, with such praise, I hope it inspired you."   

"Indeed, My Lady...it inspired me to start my own account of the King."  

Information that was defiantly intriguing and could be helpful. Any information on the King could make the difference between making it back home or being scavenged for a bit from the vultures that circled above.  

"I am glad; perhaps you can tell me about it again. I do so enjoy seeing the fruit of my inspiration." Even more, if they get me out of here.  

"While you're here, My Lady, could I tempt you to a book? The library is just down the hall, and it has been years since I have had a visitor."  

"I would be honoured."  

xxxxxx  

When you returned to your room sometime later with a book. The missing Shakespeare plays seemed worthy of your reading and apt.   

The leather creaked as you opened the page, your eyes finding the formed ink before a moan halted you. It was not the haunting noise of the wind. Instead, it was gruntal, deep and masculine. Waiting, you heard it again, this time longer, louder, tilting you heard as you listened intently, other noises now filling the air. You knew those sounds, the deep moaning, the rhythmic thud of skin, the groan of furniture bending to the force of thrust.  

Staring out of the balcony, it was dark, as it often was at the palace; even with the shining white stone it was made of, it was hard to decipher where one body ended, and the others started. Your view from your room was obscured by the thicket of ivy clinging to the balcony column, but you could see enough, the giant frame of the Greek god, face twisted in pain and pleasure as he was being pounded from behind. The dark locks of the King Morpheus were just visible in the light. There was another, maybe, it was so hard to tell, thin arms of women, maybe even a sprite, dipping between the two male bodies, roaming and squeezing, and from the shuddering roars that filled the space, they seemed to know what they were doing. As in jerked the God of Strength back and wrapped slender fingers around the thick cock that swayed in the air, jolting with every thrust of the slender but powerful hips of the Dream Lord himself. 

You knew something like this was going to happen. This was very bad. Very. Very. Bad. Gods were jealous beings and power hungry. If the others found out, there would be bloodshed, or God forbid Kratos, and this other being saw you. It didn't even bare thinking about.  

The slick sound of flesh slapping against flesh jolted you directly into the eyes of the Dream King himself; how long the King had his eyes set on you didn't know; his eyes had this strange ability to not be on you but see right through you. His eyes stared across the balcony to where you stood behind the pillar. They were bright but different.... paler somehow than usual.  

His thin lips curved up at the side as his moonlight fingers curled around the thick hips of the Greek God, jolting his back against him, allowing the King to push him down, shoving the war-beat face down and renewing his thrusts with an almost punishing vigour. The muffled cries of the Kratos were all you could hear, and the simpering sighs of the other who wrapped tight around the King’s shoulder as it sucked on his neck.   

You gasped at the sight. Gulping as the eyes shone across at you, you waited for a second for something to happen. You are to be smitted or thrown into the waking world for trespassing on something so intimate. Yet, nothing happened. Instead, the smirk grew to near wolfish proportions.  

Cowering back, you fled down the hall and did not stop till you were safely away from your rooms, but not from those glowing eyes that followed you. 

So what do you think? Got to love dark Morpheus playing games :P I know not everyone is into MxM but I only wanted to use it in this one chapter so to showcase the ambiguous nature of the Gods. Hopeful it was okay. More smut next chapter to come for the reader... maybe ;)

As always please let me know, your comments make my day.

Also- Claiming his Queen fans keep your eyes peels for an epilogue update....

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