She heard the goddess’s pitiful whimpers.

‘I had not harmed them!’, ‘I loved them far more than your figure,’, ‘you* left them, not i,’.*

She found you, upon your knees, with your hands clasped into one and pleas a plenty. Her finery, linens and silks draped across your frame, your hair ruined by her fingers. Your lips carved with apologies of laying within Dawn’s beds, with wandering hands she knew so well.

She laid within her silks, her frame that made men fall to arrows and women curse a wrongful brow. Her hair fell around her eyes, seeing the marks from Eos’ lips upon the column of your bruised throat. A flicker of anger glossing along perfect features, Helios’ sun painting its gold.

She knew jealousy burned itself through your veins, your fingers, hard and calloused gripping the handle of a blade as her arms embraced a lover of dark curl and bright eyes. Your words went unknown to her, your thoughts shadowed her lusts and beauty of mortal men and women—while you lay in her linens, her on top of your form.

Her fingers, held your chin up, feeling the rough grab of your skin against her own. Her tongue clicked, her smile of falsity, your wanting sending a shiver down her spine, the relinquish of control, knowing you crawled back.

She loved in it.

“Was she better, my dove? Did she kiss you in a way I know not?”

She placed a finger to you as another plea attempted to flee, the silks and white pearls brushing against her collarbone as her eyes gazed upon sweated features, your trembling lip, the quiver of your shoulders knowing you’d defiled her bed.

*Eos screamed in her cave, where she had dared to bed you, where her fingers undid your tunics and her lips held your own. She screamed for men, for that touch, attempting to steal what she had laid claim

“My Dove, how could you allow her touch?” She whispered

She brushed her fingertips along your brow, along your cheek and jaw until it found your stained lips, a smile curling itself onto such darkened eyes of nothing short of rage.