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How often had he looked from his window to watch the world below passing? How often had he dreamed of stepping out of his smithery and interacting with the people of the land? More than he could count. More than any god could probably count. Now he did the same again, taking a break from the labor of the newest trinket he had been requested for. Outside his window lay a sea of land, rolling downwards to fields and towns. He had watched his brothers and sisters trek down the mountainside many times to interact with those of the land. Sometimes taking lovers, sometimes just causing mischief. He himself had no reason to go to the towns and cities of the world below. It would only cause problems if one were to see his plight.

His attention was torn from the sights below when his door slammed open. Turning to see who had entered his forge he was greeted with the unpleasant sight of his mother. She neither spoke nor looked at him. Instead she glided over to where his newest project lay, waiting for the final detailing. Her eyes glistened as she looked over the gold and bronze arm cuff. So it was to be for her? He knew it was requested by his father, but he didn’t know who would receive it. Her eyes looked over the rubies and citrine that was lain out beside the cuff. He hadn’t chosen which of the two would embed the delicate trinket yet, however it would seem she would relieve him of that choice.

“I don’t like the citrine.” Her voice barked out at him as if he were deaf. “Get rid of them.”

He didn’t answer, just moved away from the window and quickly removed the stones, placing them back within the box they had come from. After so long he had became use to being pushed around by his mother. At first he had fought back against her. Had even trapped her by her greed. Now, however, he had given up. No matter what he did to push against her cruelty she always bounced back worse than before. He found it easier to give into her whim. She left him alone that way. This being the rare occasion that only happened because he was making something for her.

Down in one of the cities the man often looked upon was another life struggling by. The girl was the daughter of a well off family. She was being primed and primped to be the perfect wife for whomever her father chose. However very few suitors were knocking at their door. In their city their family was well known and so it was known throughout the wealthier class that she was a sickly girl. Her body weak. This made her chances of mothering many children slim and her worth as a bride plummet. What good was a large dowry if the groom’s family line died with them?

The girl had made it to her nineteenth year still unwed and now her father was desperate to marry her to anyone. And like many days before, this day was a disappointment. Her father had traveled to meet with another man in hopes that he had finally found someone just to return forlorn and irate.

“Father, I have prepared dinner for you. Shall I serve it?”

“Fine, Cilla.” With a dismissive wave of his hand, the girl’s father turned away from her. She quickly took her leave to the kitchen where her mother had been cleaning. She had grabbed the trays of food and took them to the dining room, setting up the meal for her father and younger brothers before returning back to the kitchen and falling into her mother’s arms. The older woman understood the shame her daughter felt each time her father was turned down by a groom candidate's father. After so many years of being told she was worthless as the one thing she had been trained for all her life, Cilla was starting to believe she would become nothing more than a crone. Rubbing her daughter’s back the woman tried to think of something to lift her spirits.

“How about we go to Hera’s temple tomorrow. We can ask for her blessings for the next candidate.” The woman’s gentle words tugged a small nod from her daughter. Smiling gently she parted from the girl and lead the girl to the women's dining hall for their meal.

The next day the two women and Cilla’s younger brother, Aetes, made their way down the busy streets to the lavish temple of the Queen of gods. In Cilla’s hands lay a beautifully woven hamilton they would offer to the goddess in hopes of receiving her blessings. She could have never known what this trip would truly mean to her. Nor could her mother have known the danger she was leading her children into.

Description
How often had he looked from his window to watch the world below passing? How often had he dreamed of stepping out of his smithery and interacting with the people of the land? More than he could count. More than any god could probably count. Now he did the same again, taking a break from the labor of the newest trinket he had been requested for. Outside his window lay a sea of land, rolling downwards to fields and towns. He had watched his brothers and sisters trek down the mountainside many times to interact with those of the land. Sometimes taking lovers, sometimes just causing mischief. He himself had no reason to go to the towns and cities of the world below. It would only cause problems if one were to see his plight.

His attention was torn from the sights below when his door slammed open. Turning to see who had entered his forge he was greeted with the unpleasant sight of his mother. She neither spoke nor looked at him. Instead she glided over to where his newest project lay, waiting for the final detailing. Her eyes glistened as she looked over the gold and bronze arm cuff. So it was to be for her? He knew it was requested by his father, but he didn’t know who would receive it. Her eyes looked over the rubies and citrine that was lain out beside the cuff. He hadn’t chosen which of the two would embed the delicate trinket yet, however it would seem she would relieve him of that choice.

“I don’t like the citrine.” Her voice barked out at him as if he were deaf. “Get rid of them.”

He didn’t answer, just moved away from the window and quickly removed the stones, placing them back within the box they had come from. After so long he had became use to being pushed around by his mother. At first he had fought back against her. Had even trapped her by her greed. Now, however, he had given up. No matter what he did to push against her cruelty she always bounced back worse than before. He found it easier to give into her whim. She left him alone that way. This being the rare occasion that only happened because he was making something for her.

Down in one of the cities the man often looked upon was another life struggling by. The girl was the daughter of a well off family. She was being primed and primped to be the perfect wife for whomever her father chose. However very few suitors were knocking at their door. In their city their family was well known and so it was known throughout the wealthier class that she was a sickly girl. Her body weak. This made her chances of mothering many children slim and her worth as a bride plummet. What good was a large dowry if the groom’s family line died with them?

The girl had made it to her nineteenth year still unwed and now her father was desperate to marry her to anyone. And like many days before, this day was a disappointment. Her father had traveled to meet with another man in hopes that he had finally found someone just to return forlorn and irate.

“Father, I have prepared dinner for you. Shall I serve it?”

“Fine, Cilla.” With a dismissive wave of his hand, the girl’s father turned away from her. She quickly took her leave to the kitchen where her mother had been cleaning. She had grabbed the trays of food and took them to the dining room, setting up the meal for her father and younger brothers before returning back to the kitchen and falling into her mother’s arms. The older woman understood the shame her daughter felt each time her father was turned down by a groom candidate's father. After so many years of being told she was worthless as the one thing she had been trained for all her life, Cilla was starting to believe she would become nothing more than a crone. Rubbing her daughter’s back the woman tried to think of something to lift her spirits.

“How about we go to Hera’s temple tomorrow. We can ask for her blessings for the next candidate.” The woman’s gentle words tugged a small nod from her daughter. Smiling gently she parted from the girl and lead the girl to the women's dining hall for their meal.

The next day the two women and Cilla’s younger brother, Aetes, made their way down the busy streets to the lavish temple of the Queen of gods. In Cilla’s hands lay a beautifully woven hamilton they would offer to the goddess in hopes of receiving her blessings. She could have never known what this trip would truly mean to her. Nor could her mother have known the danger she was leading her children into.