Exercise in Desire: Apple Of Honor

In one of my creative writing classes, we did an exercise about desire. We were challenged to find a story, and write it from several different viewpoints, so the reader could empathize and understand where each of the characters was coming from. Enjoy!

Hera sighed, the peacock feathers in her luscious brunette braids waving softly in the sea breeze. She glared up at her home, Mount Olympus, on her right, thundering in the distance, eyes narrowing. Tonight was not a night that she wished to be home, and in the same proximity as her husband. That petty goddess of trouble, Eris, had just started her worst disaster yet. She had thrown a golden apple in the middle of a wedding feast, to be claimed by the fairest goddess of them all. Having this apple, that glorious title of, “the fairest,” that would stop all of the whisperings in the godly court. She was not old and past her prime, she was the goddess of women and loving marriage for heaven’s sake. She was married to the greatest god of all and ruler, the mighty Zeus. Her life should be wonderful, yet it was empty of everything she stood for. Her eyes glistened. She brushed at them, telling herself it was mist from the sea blowing. She knew the rumors about the court, about Zeus, that he was no longer pleased with her, and would rather sleep with any spry, younger goddess in all of Greece than with his withered wife.

She plucked a flower from the seaside garden and crushed it in her hand. Better to crush a flower than try to strangle her husband, which is what she wanted to do at the moment. Her normally flawless pale skin burned pink with anger. Aphrodite, Athena, and her had taken the apple and presented it to Zeus, for him to be the judge of who had the honor and title of being the fairest. And, her disloyal husband could not even side with his own wife! He refused to decide by declaring that the fairest judge among men, Paris, would decide who was the fairest goddess, leaving him out of the fight. Hera trembled; her husband had shamed her in front of the entire court by once again not siding with her.

She would make him love and respect her again. How could she be the goddess of women and marriage if she didn’t have a loving marriage herself? She looked once more at Mount Olympus, wishing she had Medusa’s power to turn those she wished into stone. Then at least she would have respect, even if she didn’t have love.

She sighed, and picked her way through the seaside garden, back to the feast, where the judgment of the fairest goddess of all would be held shortly. She had to win the golden apple. It was the only way to gain the respect of the godly court and hush the whisperings and taunts behind her back. But most of all, she had to win her husband back. Once she had the golden apple, he would finally be forced to acknowledge her beauty and superiority to all of the minor goddesses who paraded through their bedchamber. She would be respected and loved once more. She strode through the columned entrance to the banquet hall, white chiffon rustling softly, all eyes turning to her as the light of the setting sun highlighted her high, pale cheekbones. Head raised high, shoulders down, so as to accentuate her bust, her voice rang out, “My dear Paris, choose me as the fairest of all. I am Hera and will bless your mar-” she caught herself. She wouldn’t bless his marriage, She couldn’t. That wasn’t a powerful enough inducement. Men’s fancies quickly waned and moved on to whoever was younger and more enticing, as she knew all too well. “I will bless you with great never-ending power! I will make you king over Europe and Asia. Select me and you will be one of the most powerful men on earth!”

Athena paced across the battlements of the mansion, spear clenched in her small, but incredibly strong right hand, about to return to the banquet hall for judgment. Zeus had just refused to decide on who was the fairest goddess of all by giving them the golden apple that that meddling goddess Eris had interrupted the feast with. Athena brushed some invisible dirt off of her loose sleeve, carefully designed to allow her more freedom of motion when battling. Athena had never considered herself vain, nothing like her perfect aunt Aphrodite, never caring about frivolous trifles and admiration. Yet, why had she, against her better judgment, entered into the contest of being the fairest of the goddesses? And, why did she now feel the familiar knotted feeling in her well-toned stomach that she would get before a battle began?

Athena inhaled the sea air deeply, and exhaled slowly, calming herself. She was the goddess of war and wisdom, she shouldn’t concern herself or be worried about a foolish contest. She had far more important things to worry about, such as helping heroes along their tasks, giving counsel to the city’s rulers, and trying to keep the peace between the lands. Yet, she also a woman. She couldn’t deny that small portion of her that coiled into jealousy every time Aphrodite, or any of the other pretty, flighty goddesses walked in a room and everyone’s eyes followed them admiringly.  Athena took off her helmet undid the tight braided bun at the nape of her neck, to avoid it getting in the way in a fight. and ran her left hand through her raven black tresses, arranging them to flow around her shapely shoulders. She wanted her father Zeus to look at her with admiration and approval in his eyes for her beauty and grace, like he did Aphrodite, and not just summoned to his presence when he needed her to perform another task, like a loyal lap dog.

Athena turned and glided down the battlement steps, towards the banquet hall, where the court was assembled. All people ever saw in her, was the strong, stoic goddess of wisdom and war. Heroes pled for her when they needed her strength or advice. She wanted to be more than that. She wanted to have, just once, a hero or someone plead and long for her in admiration and love. To be noticed and wanted for more than just her usefulness, to be seen beyond that.

She looked down at her spear, still gripped in her tan hand. Should she leave it behind, like she had her helmet? No, a warrioress and goddess of wisdom was still who she was at her core; she just wanted to be recognized for something else as well.  She clasped it in her hand, ignoring the cool stare from Hera as she strode past her. Aphrodite snickered on her left, leaning seductively on one of the marble pillars, mocking Athena for even trying to win this contest. Athena narrowed her emerald eyes at her and watched in satisfaction as Aphrodite withered slightly and pressed herself more into the pillar, recoiling from her gaze.

Athena took another breath and walked forward, right in front of Paris, seated at the head of the room, almost like a throne. “Paris,” her husky voice echoed throughout the hall. “Choose me as the fairest of them all, give me the golden apple, and I will give you wisdom. I will make you the greatest warrior who has ever lived. I have never failed a hero yet, and I will not do so now.”

Aphrodite tossed her head, golden curls as they rippled around her, catching the last rays of sun that touched the horizon of the sea and streamed through the banquet hall. She ignored the involuntary stares of admiring men, as she floated through the crowds in the room. Best to keep her presence at the forefront of everyone’s mind, just to be safe. She smiled slightly, her blue eyes lighting up like when the sun dances on the waves. She knew she was a divine sight to behold and that everyone pined for her. Yet, she had to keep her focus on only one person at the moment, the handsome Paris. That shouldn’t be to hard to do though, as he was by far the most attractive man in the room. She knew that he found her ravishing; his hungry gaze was all the proof she needed. She practically already had won this contest, judging by the way he looked at her. Yet, she also had to be careful. Hera was a formidable opponent and had just offered Paris untold power. She wasn’t nearly as gorgeous as Aphrodite herself was, obviously, so her beauty was not something to be worried about, but she had been able to snag Zeus, the god of all, somehow. Hera was a force to be reckoned with, and there was a chance, however small, that Paris may choose that old hag.

Aphrodite picked her way to a pillar, where she was directly in line of Paris’ sight, and leaned against the cool marble, crossing her legs and pointing one of her porcelain white feet outward, so Paris would just barely catch a glimpse of her ankle and bit of curved leg through her pale rose colored gown. She rested her hand on her voluptuous hip, and brushed her right hand behind her head, pulling her golden tresses, woven with flowers, across her shoulder.

She caught Paris’ eye, as he drank her in hungrily. She batted her lashes at him. She had to win this contest. Being the goddess of beauty and love was who she was. It was the epitome of who she was. She measured her worth by the admiration and love that she had from men. It was her identity.  She would be crushed, worthless without this honor; it was rightfully hers. She wanted to wait a few more moments before stepping forward to state her claim; let Paris’ desire continue to heighten as his eyes enveloped her entire body. She had frightened away all of the other would be contestants, except for the indomitable Hera, by a condescending look down her petite nose; the other goddesses knew they were no match for her. Aphrodite was roused abruptly from her reverie by the sound of spear being rapped on the marble floors, in time with purposeful marching. She looked up and her mouth opened slightly; Athena, of all goddesses, was going to attempt to claim the prize? Aphrodite snickered slightly. It was that or produce an unwomanly hiss at Athena trying to claim what rightfully belonged to her. Who did Athena think she was? She was just the homely goddess of war and wisdom, she didn’t belong here! Not like Aphrodite did. Her confident pose against the pillar shrunk a little as Athena turned and glared at her. The gall of that girl, trying to usurp me and conquer me, as if I were an opponent to fell! She’s already the goddess of so much, why does she have to try and take my title too?

“Paris,” Athena’s voice echoed through the hall. “Choose me as the fairest of them all, give me the golden apple, and I will give you wisdom. I will make you the greatest warrior who has ever lived. I have never failed a hero yet, and I will not do so for you now.”

Aphrodite clenched her hands into fist, nails biting into the flesh of her palm, so hard that if she had been human, her nails would’ve cut her and she’d have bled. She would not let this honor be taken from her; she couldn’t bear it. She would be nothing without her beauty. The time for alluring poses and seductive looks was past. It was time for action. She pushed herself off the pillar slowly and glided her way past the hateful Hera and Athena, aware that everyone’s eyes were glued to her and relishing every moment. She rippled up the steps, right to where Paris was seated, as majestic as the ocean waves she was born from. The other goddesses were fools. She knew what a man truly wanted, as evidenced through the passion and desire in every man’s eye when they beheld her. Paris was no different. She knew a man’s weakness. “Paris darling,” her voice warbled, as her delicate fingers stroked his cheek. She smiled as she watched him tremble slightly at the tingling sensation she knew she was having on him. “I offer you the very best, last of all. I live you love and the greatest mortal beauty here on earth. I will give you Helen of Sparta to wed. Once she sees you, there will no way she will be able to resist your charm. I know I’m certainly not immune to it,” her tinkling laugh echoing. “So dear, who do you say to having the most beautiful mortal grace your arm and love you forever? Just hand over that silly apple over there, and she is all yours. I give you my word of honor.”

Paris drank her in, then stared at the other two women, who Aphrodite could feel their fiery glares burning a hold in her head from behind. He turned to his side and grabbed the golden apple from the platter on his right.

“Beloved goddess Aphrodite,” taking her hand off his cheek and kissing it. “I give you this golden apple and declare you the fairest of all of the goddesses! You shall be revered throughout immortality as the goddess of everlasting beauty!”

Aphrodite received the apple, the words thrilling her. She had won, forever.