Little God

Little God

Desires streamed around the columns and corridors of the temple complex with the force of a river in spring, spilling from windows and doors to rise high on the breezes from the sea below before the north wind caught them and carried them to Melis.

He kept his wings at his back, his hands at his sides, his feet above the well-trodden paths around the temple complex.

The scent of food from the vendors outside the temple sent a wave of new, more mundane desires through those leaving the temples or doing business in the area.

Stomachs rumbled with sudden hunger. The cold evening air made others long for the warmer clothes they’d left at home, fooled by the sunny afternoon into forgetting that Autumn approached.

…that scarf looks so pretty with my hair, he’d be sure to notice me then…

“My home and the fire call to me, Skoris.

I can’t stay, though I wish I would.”

…haven’t the coin for a hand pie, but damn those smell good…

“Not so many steps around this blasted temple for those of us without good shoes.

That’s what the gods ought to grant us.

I’ll fuckin’ ask them myself, I’m serious.”

…visited every shrine in there.

I even prayed to The Fair-Shaped twice.

Ankirra will definitely like me now.

She has to—unless The Prankster has his way. Did I leave anything for him? Fuck, I forgot…

Melis glanced toward that one, a figure weaving through the crowd heading away from the temples instead of back into them to leave the offering he’d forgotten.

Melis forgot him in turn, continuing on as he had been, following the long, low wall that surrounded the complex and glancing more than once to the images painted onto the stone.

The Bringer of Storms and Lightning.

The Fair-Shaped.

The heroes turned to stars or lesser gods.

The Father of War and the One Beneath the Waves. Ever-Pregnant yet Ever-Birthing Harvest standing with the eternally young Green. Green with her talons dripping blood. The Silent One. The Ever-Present. Vengeance and her children. The noble wolf’s head atop the shoulders of The Hunter. Owls and hawks, wolves and deer, bears feasting on berries or dressed as Indulgence.

Most of the elders appeared several times, in human-like forms or represented in some other way: swords, shields, a basket of grapes, fish, rabbits and eggs.

Once or twice, the bright yellow and black of a bee hovered above the others, the paint fresh and new.

Or, instead of the stinging wasp, a laughing boy would lurk in corners, or a gorgeous youth with breasts and a cock would beckon temptingly.

More often, an older handsome man or a lush beauty with curves to rival The Fair-Shaped grinned cruelly down at the other gods, bees resting in the palms of their hands, readying to fly out at a moment’s notice as though even other gods were not safe.

Maybe that was why the other gods seemed to glare back though their paint was faded with age.

Melis paused, pulling at the hem of his short tunic until he caught himself doing it and stopped.

Humans carried on around him, a few stumbling before righting themselves and glancing back to the empty spot in the path that had somehow tripped them.

Melis tried to share a grin with the figures on the wall, but The Ever-Present glowered back, and the tired god of Home, Family, and the Warmth of the Marriage Bed crossed their arms, unamused.

The wind whispered more dreams.

Higher on the cliff, the walls of the palace loomed, white and bright.

Wishes came from inside shops closing for the night, scraps of dreams of more money or softer, personal yearnings for food or bed that all humans had.

Sometimes, they dreamed of what might be done in that bed that was not sleep.

Sometimes they dreamed of it with someone they were not married to, if they were married.

Sometimes they dreamed of marriage. Sometimes, they did not wait for their eyes to shut before they imagined their ideal lovers.

Melis had found humans to be fairly obsessed with the activities of the bedroom.

He’d also found many of the elder gods to be afflicted with the same fever—another touchy subject, particularly with the eldest and most powerful of gods who often behaved exactly like the humans they looked down upon.

And lusted after.

And admired.

And cared for as they might care for their own children.

And sometimes became so deeply devoted to that the humans were granted immortality so a god wouldn’t pout for all eternity.

No one could pout like the elder gods, not even the human children Melis had observed.

The elder gods were a strange lot.

But so were humans, who seemed to exist in a constant state of wanting.

Well, perhaps not constant.

But it felt that way, yearning calling to Melis no matter where he stood in the human world.

Proximity to a temple hardly mattered; there was longing behind every door in every house and in every breeze.

It spoke to Melis now, trying to disguise itself as resignation.

Melis bit back what he might have said in answer, scoffing lightly instead and ignoring the human who turned to look for the source of the sound before shrugging and walking away.

The human wanted to be home to fall into the arms of their new husband.

Melis smiled to himself at the simple, pleasing wish before catching sight of the smirk on the painted face of The Fair-Shaped as Mother.

All-Mother looked entirely too smug, as if she held knowledge she should not.

Melis didn’t feel hunger, but like those humans behind him around the food stalls, there was a tremor in his stomach, a rumble.

“A craving,”

Storm-bringer and War had both said, sneering in the face of Melis’ confusion.

“If you haven’t known hunger for yourself, you have no place creating it in others, little wasp.”

Indulgence, heavily furred, lying on a bed of petals with roasted seeds at their lips, had smiled.

They do not like to feel powerless, Indulgence thought in a voice like falling rain, knowing Melis would hear.

For that, they do not like you.

But they don’t know what love truly is, so pay no attention to them.

Indulgence, curved and fat and ripe, had many lovers and equally as many beloveds.

Melis didn’t understand but didn’t need to; desire to Indulgence was the sweet taste of honey and the sting of the bee, but a sting Indulgence enjoyed.

Even Desire Unfulfilled was an aspect of Melis that Indulgence welcomed, moaning and bewailing disappointment and their broken heart with abandon before some new fancy caught hold of them.

Indulgence had always been Melis’ favorite.

Harvest turned her back on him.

The Ever-Present continued to glower, as he always did.

Bloodthirsty War sulked and stared longingly at The Fair-Shaped, who did not think of War even absently.

She longed for mirrors, birdsong, and mattresses of feathers, for mouths, or fingers, and legs spread for her. Life-Giver as she was, she did not and would not yearn for Battle. Not even Melis could make that happen.

Not that he would tell War that.

Fucker deserved what he got.

Which was a dry cock and a bed empty of the one he lusted after.

War might speak of love, but physical need was as far as his longing extended and Melis had no interest in answering it. Perhaps he could make The Fair-Shaped want War, but he saw no reason to.

He had a million other wishes to consider anyway: rumors and prayers in the wind, curses muttered low as if even a lesser god wouldn’t hear his name invoked.

Those cursing their fate were fortunate Melis was not inclined to wrath.

The wall around the temple complex ended at last, and the path beneath him began a slow incline to the highest point in this city.

If Melis had chosen to feel it, he would have been shivering at the cold in his simple tunic of linen.

The sky darkened; Night busy at work crooning to the moon as it rose.

Unaware of the song above them, humans around Melis ducked into homes and lit fires to keep the world warm and bright. Behind walls, they fought and fucked and shared meals. Some sat alone, content, others gazed out windows toward the sea, waiting for someone’s return. Still others looked up to where the stars were beginning to shine and wished to not be so alone.

Melis didn’t see what the stars had to do with it.

Most lonely humans could have fulfilled their own desires by simply speaking to one another, which couldn’t be that difficult.

Most human wants and needs were the same: food, shelter, pretty things, friends, affection, and, for most of them, sex.

Melis didn’t need the first three, and didn’t have the last three, but he could have if he wanted. Humans could do the same if their desire was so great. At the very least, they could make offerings to the right god about it, instead of pleading to The Warmth of the Marriage Bed, or to The Fair-Shaped in her aspect of Physical Pleasure. Even Merriment, a lesser god, got prayers of gratitude for friendship and affection, as if Melis wasn’t right there.

“They put you on their friezes so as not to offend you,”

Night took a moment from serenading the moon to whisper to Melis.

“It doesn’t mean they love you or even understand you.

I bother most of them too, except in the summer when they welcome me—or really, the absence of Day.

The only ones who welcome me are lovers.”

Melis flicked a hand up toward the moon, smiling to himself at the nearly inaudible chime of bells as the moon returned some of Night’s admiration.

Something the moon could have done at any time, but perhaps it enjoyed the attention.

Some needed to be prompted to share what was in their hearts.

Others shared their hearts freely yet received no answer.

Melis, have I angered you? Or is it as they whisper, that I am your favorite and you keep me this way because my yearning pleases you?

Melis, child of the wind, is this what you have chosen for me in your wisdom? Is my loneliness meant to mark me as yours? I will be the priest of Desire if you wish it.

But only tell me if it’s meant to be Desire only or Desire Fulfilled?

I thought this one loved me, Melis, but they were like the others.

Is it not you I have angered, but some other god?

Melis of Many Forms, am I to be forever alone? I confess, I find myself wishing it was true that you favor me so this is not divine punishment for something I have unwittingly done to offend you.

I… I thank you for the gift of wanting.

The keenness of my feelings serves you so I will try to be grateful.

But I cannot help but dream as I cannot help my hurt upon waking alone again.

I only hope this hurt at least pleases you, One Who Reunites Souls, Melis of Passion and Longing, Desire in All Its Forms. In which case, I thank you again, Melis, for your favor.

One human daring to call Melis by his proper names.

One voice low and husky with pain while thanking Melis for the loneliness causing that pain.

Melis could have blushed like a human, and was not entirely sure he didn’t, because this one voice he had not answered.

He hadn’t thought he’d have to, he defended himself sharply as he reached the gates of the palace, although there was no one to witness his internal wriggling.

And… perhaps it had been pleasant to hear his proper names spoken, even in whispers in private prayers.

Desire could have desires too, Melis decided with some irritation, and hearing his real names was not a dream that should bother anyone.

Feathers ruffled with irritation at gods who might judge him, Melis muttered under his breath and moved through the sliver of space between the closed gates.

The palace itself was nothing to the homes of some of the gods, but remarkable for the world of humans, although not for the reasons other humans might have imagined.

The palace had the signs of a considerate ruler who cared for his people.

The halls were clean.

The walls draped with well-tended greenery. Fountains of clear water splashed gently in several locations, as they splashed gently in all the fountains in the city. Where not lit by the light of the charmed moon, corridors of white or painted stone were illuminated by oil lanterns. Soldiers, already in cloaks though Autumn had only begun to stretch out her arms, kept watch in pairs throughout the grounds, some petting contented guard dogs to pass the time, others telling stories.

Servants were still at work, although not many.

Most were settling in for the night in the kitchen to enjoy a nibble of cheese or some wine from the well-stocked cellars.

Melis listened to the longing thoughts of one attending to the needs of one of the ladies of the house, who was apparently beyond lovely, perhaps even as beautiful as her brother, the king.

The servant was in awe of such a family, surely favored by many of the gods in their temperament, wisdom, and looks.

Then, almost in the same moment she thought it, the servant stopped to mourn the fate of such a house, gifted in all things except matters of the heart.

There was some hope for the lovely sister, but though the king had found lovers and sought a suitable match with someone of noble blood from any of the nearby cities, no one had chosen to stay with him.

At first, rumor had supposed the young king capricious, as the young could be.

Then, those abroad had whispered that the king must have some flaw, some misfortune or streak of heartlessness that had repulsed potential partners and sent his current lovers fleeing.

Now, with his city prosperous and thriving and his people ferociously defending him, a new story was carried on the wind: the kind, handsome, thoughtful king had been cursed, stung by The Prankster, Melis the Cruel, to be alone forevermore.

King Antero had angered Many-Formed Desire, the wind whistled.

He had beheld Melis’ true face and turned from him, and Melis in his fury had doomed the king to want but never know the other part of his soul, or to receive the kind of love he had offered so many.

Melis stopped to stare down at the shrine below of one of the palace’s many fountains, unsurprised to see Mother and Harvest and The One Beneath the Waves honored so prominently in a palace on a cliff above the sea, in a kingdom where the people were plump and well-fed.

It was the small, winged figure set among the greater gods that stole his breath.

The face had not been carved, but wings had been cut into the stone with feathers that looked as light as a dove’s.

Equally detailed was the tiny stone crown of roses resting on the figure’s head, crooked and playful instead of straight and dignified the way the other figures wore their crowns.

The carver had given the figure a massive phallus.

Melis ducked his head to consider the bulge beneath his tunic.

Some expected a big cock on their god of Desire.

Others did not. Melis was depicted as young and old, virile and handsome, curving and fertile, or purely a mischievous youth who had nothing of note between his legs because he’d never fucked or been fucked and thus didn’t understand the consequences of his actions. Each form was heavy with expectation and some judgment.

Too beautiful, King Antero had mourned to himself, they fear I will be unfaithful.

Not beautiful enough.

Antero’s thoughts had held a trace of bitterness tinged with wry amusement.

I do not live up to the stories they tell of me.

That had been a lie told by one of Antero’s potential betrotheds.

Melis had heard the truth as the betrothed had stewed to himself on his way out of the city.

The betrothed had loved another he could not have, someone themselves already in love with, or at least enamored with, King Antero.

The would-be betrothed had wanted to wound the king, and wound he had.

Melis had heard it all and not answered.

Not the betrothed and not the king, although he had eased the suffering of the innocent third party, coming to this sea-cliff city to ensure the short, pretty human had found someone new to gaze upon fondly.

Someone not the former-betrothed and also not the king.

If the king had gazed back at that short, pretty human, then Melis could have blessed their union.

Human rules about who could or couldn’t marry kings were inconsequential; if a person found part of their soul in another, even a mortal, even a god, then they should reach for each other.

And like gods, if kings wanted to be with someone, they would find a way.

But gods could be as cowardly as some humans, and it was easier for them all to blame Melis.

One would think they’d know not to mess with someone capable of making even bloodthirsty conquerors and fearsome gods go weak-kneed and stupid.

Then, when he did that, because that was his role, people were angry about that too.

“‘You don’t know what you do to people,’”

Melis quietly mimicked several of his more powerful immortal brethren, adding a haughty scoff at the end. “Ha.”

Several of the guard dogs raised their heads as Melis passed, following the rustle of his feathers and the sound of his voice.

He waved them off to dreams of meaty bones and puddles big enough to splash in.

“I do my work as I am supposed to.

They’re the ones too afraid to go after they want—or to listen to why they will never receive it.

War pestering someone who doesn’t want him, perhaps because it means he will never have to bare his soul.

Storm-Bringer wants too many, too recklessly, tearing open their chests to gaze at their hearts without ever offering his in return.

The moon wants to be eternally wooed.

Fire and Invention wants to love and tells himself he has, he is, only to leave broken hearts behind him.

The Fair-Shaped adores everyone but keeps her heart to herself—and there is no reason for her not to, since unlike the others, she has never lured another with the idea of love.

And when she rejects them, it’s even worse.

As if she ever claimed to rule over hearts! She certainly did not, though she might fuck who she pleases.

They know this and yet when she doesn’t swoon for them, somehow I am the cruel one, the one who is blamed.

I did this to them because I am a foolish youth who doesn’t know anything about anything.”

“A king smart enough to keep his city free of battles and conflict, and apparently pretty enough to make storytellers tremble with longing, cannot find someone to love him, and that is my fault?”

Melis continued to grumble, letting Night hear him, not that Night cared about Melis’ guilt.

“I cannot answer every wish, and even when I try, people often remain unhappy.”

Melis passed slowly through an empty throne room.

“This king is certainly capable of great devotion.

He honors the stinging wasp even as he is stung.

He offers to the gods as he should, even to me, the smallest of them. If other humans do not love him, that is their foolishness, not mine.”

Well, Melis would show them.

The stories of this king’s lonely heart and the prayers from his people on his behalf had traveled the world, reaching deep beneath the mountains and high into the clouds.

After one too many sneers from The Bringer of Battles and knowing looks from The Fair-Shaped, Melis had stormed away from her palace and fallen into the wind.

The wind, guessing Melis’ decision before Melis had, had carried him here. So, fine. Melis would look upon the legendary king for himself and determine if there was someone in the world to equal him.

Frankly, he was surprised that neither Storm-Bringer nor The Fair-Shaped had taken King Antero to their beds.

Antero was looking for more than a fuck, but that sort of detail wouldn’t bother a god.

Not the elders, anyway.

If Antero was as perfect as the stories, his words, and his voice suggested, the elders might even fall for him… as much as the older gods could fall for anyone but themselves.

They weren’t allowed to touch him.

The strength of Melis’ anger made him pause, although he hadn’t spoken it and no god should know his thoughts unless Melis allowed them to.

Nonetheless, he modified the tone of his thoughts as he continued on.

He’d meant that he wouldn’t let the elder gods near the human king, not that he meant to take Antero himself.

A ridiculous notion.

If Antero were to seek happiness with an immortal, it would have to be a powerful one.

Little though Melis was, he wouldn’t allow Antero to be used and discarded. Antero wanted a companion, a devoted, clever man to match wits with him and share smiles with him, to sleep in his bed and talk with when either of them had a burden. He wanted the complement to the jagged edge of his soul.

…And he said Melis’ name sweetly.

For that, Melis would do his best to grant the king his heart’s desire, and if Melis could not find someone good enough to make him happy, then he should at least try to find someone to feel affection and loyalty to Antero as a friend.

That might be tricky with Antero being king of the city, but there were other cities to look to.

The polished bronze shield of one palace guard didn’t show Melis’ reflection, which was fortunate, because Melis suspected he was scowling darkly.

The guard, bored, alone, trying to stay awake while his partner was off somewhere relieving himself, was thinking of pretty women, but none in particular.

Busy seeking the chambers of the members of the royal family, Melis left the guard to it, lifting a hand idly as he tracked the thoughts or dreams behind each door.

Long day tomorrow, and yet I can’t sleep.

…Too early to sleep.

Moon’s bright enough to sew by, I swear.