Ancient History
This is the last straw. I have put up with his foul words, his past abuses, his scandalous flings with beings who are supposed to worship us, but this is the last straw. Even as I sit here crafting my vengeance, he stands out there flirting with some girl who could easily be his granddaughter. But, it is not that. None of this is caused by any of that. It isn't even the children... his children that fill up every inch of our home. Everywhere I look, there is another bastard child sucking up milk, torturing the pets, and getting away with murder.
These things don't surprise me. None of it does. After all, we're a crime to begin with. He lured me with his valiance and vigor and strife despite our blood. He pursued me until I let him fill my chambers. He made me love my chains. Inevitably, we set the tone for our siblings who wed their sister's daughters and brother's fathers. Convinced our love was worth the deformed beings that sleep in out house, we set the tone. Physically, they are immaculate, but within, they are as monstrous as their foes. Within our home, betwixt their sheets, there is an uneraseable stain that permeates our family tree. Like him, they take who they want and teach their victims to bow and be thankful for their plundering. Their marriage beds always smell of someone else, just as their spouses do.
I still remember the first time. Her name was... Oh, I can't remember. It was so long ago, after we escaped our father. In a valiant move, my husband defeated him, and I'd fallen instantly. Our marriage was as swift as the consummation, which indeed consumed me. I awoke free from my father's toxic ways and instead in the warmth of my beloved. My world was complete. A day later, my heart and shoulder were both cold. No sooner had I awaken when he bolted out, claiming work. He returned smelling of her, and I went berserk. he was quick to avoid my blows, and even quicker to retaliate. We were both bruised and panting soon; he was a bloody pulp and I was a sobbing mess. For three hours, not a word between us passed. But we made up in bed (after I paid her a visit of course), and our fate was sealed.
It is not to say I had no blame. I found young suitors to pleasure me and drive him insane. Every blow he delivered, I tried to strike harder. Soon, we were at war. The only place where the playing field was level was within our room. What started as make up sex soon became rage fucking which soon became hate sex which soon became s...
s...
s...
Stop...
I can't stop him; I don't want to stop him when he's mad. We fight and fuck until every inch of us is either black or blue. Scratches trace his spine. Palm prints decorate my face. His thighs. My wrists. His chest. My hips. His throat. We are a tango of death. Together, we shower hail. We quake the earth. We swirl the ocean and churn the air. Everything he does, I have equal part in. But, no one sees that. They just see a strong Herculean man and his woman. His woman who isn't even his.
The funny thing is that there is no pleasure anymore. We're just a machine nowadays. He presses my buttons; I pull his levers. We argue like a clanking machine and choke on our words and spew vileness. Sometimes, our gears realign and we are in holy matrimony. Other times, our gears crash and scrape against each other until we are so tired of our fucking ordeal that we just can't stop. Neither is rewarded with even a smirk. Yet, somehow, even this isn't where I drew my line.
The line came when he ravished a young woman, as he does many a time. I look the other way, punish the woman, scold him only to be connived out of the contract. But this time, the woman was young. She was fifteen and he pillaged her as if she were just a piece of land. I did nothing to help, though this girl cried for someone to help her. My conscience still muddles when the memory enters it, and I find myself questioning my morals. Often, I wonder how all of Olympus somehow doesn't look up and see the bottom of the underworld. We overlook the worst and praise the best. Maybe things would be better if I had just stayed in Cronus' stomach...