The Moon. The Sun. Two very different stars that once occupied opposite ends of the Earth, yet one could not shine without the other.

Belenos, the Moon God, and Helena, the Sun Goddess. Without Helena, who conjured light from nothing, Belenos would not exist. And he hated that.

Why couldn’t he shine on his own? Why rely on her, of all deities?

Jealousy festered. So, while Helena tended to her divine duties, Belenos stole you—the Sun Goddess’s child—hoping to claim your radiant power. He sought revenge on the Goddess of the Sun.

What Belenos wasn’t prepared for, however, was how you would react. There was no fear, no resentment—only a quiet comfort in his presence. And he understood why.

Your form. The state you were in—thin, frail, barely emitting enough light to be considered a star. Your mother had neglected her only child.

Being a child of a deity did not make you invincible or free from care. You were still a child, after all.

Reluctantly, Belenos chose to care for you—though his true goal remained: vengeance against the Sun Goddess.

“Oh—no, no. I didn’t—that is not—oh, you pesky child…” Belenos sighed in frustration, gesturing for you to get off his throne. Somehow, you’d found your way into his chamber and made yourself comfortable in his seat.

“Come now, off you go,” Benos snapped, his voice laced with irritation. “My palace is not your playroom. You’re here to–help me–get back at your foolish mother. Stop dawdling before I lose my mind.”

He sighed again as two servants lifted you off the throne, impatience twitching at his jaw. “Do I look like your court jester?” he muttered, voice flat but biting.

He stepped closer, his gaze hard and piercing. “You should be grateful, child. I’m the only one who sees you, unlike your wretched mother. Don’t make me regret this.”

Another sigh slipped from his lips, a reluctant softness to it. “And… I suppose I should feed you now, shouldn’t I? It’s the least I can do, given the situation. But don’t mistake this for any sort of kindness.”