Futile and Candor

"What is there in your hands, Aphrodite?" Athena politely asked, sounding plain but doing her best to be jolly as possible.

"I have this made from the finest silk." The goddess of beauty and love revealed a beautiful gown fit for someone special. "My nymphs created this. I love it, but I know it is too much if I wear it."

Her words made Athena chuckle. "Too much?" She raised a brow at her assertion. "Is there such thing as 'too much' to the most revered goddess in Hellas?"

Aphrodite playfully pouted. "Oh, silly you. Here, wear this. I think this one fits you."

Athena's eyes became a saucer when the dress was pushed to her.

The dress was a work of art. The way the colors pranced when the light hits made it so exquisite. As her palms glided, the fabric was silky like a newly harvested pearl. "My, my! This is a wonderful dress, Aphrodite. Why did you want to give this away?"

Aphrodite grinned, happy to witness Athena's delight on her face. "Well, I have too many dresses. That one may be a beauty, but I know it is not meant for me. I immediately pictured you looking elegant in that. I also have one for Artemis—but she is not here."

The goddess of wisdom took a deep breath, sat on her bed, and gently placed the dress by her side. She guessed that the other reason why Aphrodite visited her was because she wanted her to join the wild feast. "Yes, Artemis is not here." She told her. "We later decided not to join the celebration."

"Why?" Aphrodite was filled with astonishment. "You two agreed to it."

"I knew it." Athena thought—confirming her suspicion of the goddess of love's visit. "Oh—well, it is too much for us. The few hours of sitting and eating yesterday amongst a crowd of ferals were enough for us to decide that we were already done with the feast. I'd rather be alone here." She then went into her loom and started weaving, hoping the other goddess would leave.

But the goddess of love and beauty was stubborn to the core—

Aphrodite might felt defeated, but she was eager to bring Athena to the ballroom and socialize with everyone. Somehow, something in Athena's aura veiled smoke and mirrors that walled up between her and others—successfully hiding some a gold's worth of secret.

She stood in her position for a while as Athena weaved. Her silence turned into a wave of wondering—shifting her goals to make the crafty goddess open up to her.

"I must know what she was feeling." Aphrodite thought, feeling determined.

Graceful like a swan, she carefully moved towards Athena, who now ignored her. Her smile somehow never left, pillared with the willpower to unveil the secret the wise deity was hiding.

"That is wonderful work you have there, Athena." She sincerely admired her work.

Aphrodite found the image quite unlikely from her usual subject of deities, ethereal beings, and the heroic deeds of the demigods. This time, her purple eyes could not look away from the very detailed pregnant woman, happily surrounded by blooming florals that appeared to be making her day blessed.

Snapping out from her fantasy, Athena stammered. "Huh—oh, well—I did not hear what you said."

"I said that is a wonderful weave you are doing right now," Aphrodite repeated, emphasizing the compliment.

"Oh! I see—thank you." Athena cheekily smiled.

As Aphrodite stepped a little closer, swaying her long light blonde hair and her train of a glittering cape on her back, she eyed the art again and realized that the features of the pregnant lady were similar to Athena. The shape of the nose, lips, and eyes was like looking at the reflection of a mirror.

"Hmm. Is it just me, or does the lady look like you?"

"What?" Athena was appalled. She could not think of any excuses, for she also knew not how it happened. All she remembered was that she was in a trance, and the image promptly formed from the fluttering of her hands.

Her ivory face became pale. The colors were washed out as if she was like an unfinished marble sculpture.

Seeing this change, Aphrodite finally opened, "Is there something you need to tell me, Athena?"

Athena turned her head to face her with no expression and not even a hint of inquiry in her eyes. The other goddess swallowed a hard lump in her throat, scared to provoke some caged madness inside her. "It is never my intention to pry. I just want—"

"Are you here to take me to the celebration? Or were you like the others snaking around other beings' business?"

Aphrodite's cherry lips numbed. Instead of easily unmasking Athena, the conversation became a mind game in which she knew her chances of winning were like a torn writings of a papyrus.

"Why are you now quiet, Aphrodite?" Athena taunted.

Before answering, Aphrodite let out a deep sigh—accumulating decent sentences and a pinch of bravery. Her purple eyes, more on sympathy than disproving, looked into those sorrowful silver eyes and spoke, "You got me." She smiled a little. "I came here because I want you to come to the celebration—and I also want you to open up something that bothers you. I noticed you look like you have been carrying a heavy load on your shoulder."

"What do you mean?"

"Your once regal disposition is now withering like a rose on winter. Is this because of the king of Athens?"

The silver orbs were now unchained. Athena's veil was no more. The wall was demolished, and her soul felt some kind of light slowly closing in. She suddenly smiled. No colors yet, but her face presented some succor. "It is. Are the rumors still running wild?"

Aphrodite staggered as her mouth gaped, and her eyes widened. "So, it is true?"

"True to the bone that Erichthonius is my son." Athena, at long last, stated. "His death deeply affected me that I was losing my will to continue my daily routine."

"Honestly speaking and not from hate, you are losing your lovely hues." And without hesitation, Aphrodite grabbed a hand-held mirror and gave it to Athena to show her how much she had changed.

The reflection was clear as day, as truthful as the oracle of Delphi. Athena was now seeing the weary that lined her face. "Oh my!" She scolded herself, raising a hand to her face.

"See? Your thoughts drained all the beauty you have. Come and sit beside me, Athena." Aphrodite grabbed her hand and pointed at the bed. "You can tell me anything."

Athena reluctantly obeyed the goddess of love's order.

As she dragged her to her bed, Aphrodite could feel the weight of her heavy feet. The goddess of wisdom was also slowly losing her steadiness. "Now, sit." Aphrodite soothingly commanded as she straightened the little crumples on the bedsheet.

"Why are you so eager?" Athena wondered.

After they comfortably sat down, Aphrodite wholeheartedly gathered Athena's hand to hers—offering heat to her cold and stone-like fingers. "Is your heart still aching for the death of your son?" She started. "Please do not hesitate to tell me, Athena. I am a mother too. I had known the pain of loss when my children no longer lived under my wing."

"Yours is a different pain, Aphrodite," Athena responded while blankly staring at the wall. Something about the floral patterns halted her heart from exploding like a volcano. She gripped into her hold and reasoned, "You are lucky to have your children at your reach still. You are blessed, for you are still breathing the same air. Erichthonius is gone to Elysium, living happily ever after with his beloved wife—while I stayed for eternity."

She then looked at the other goddess, who eagerly listened to her once-buried thoughts. Her silver eyes were shadowed again with the same depression that long-tailed her and pierced through at Aphrodite's purple ones.

"You can meet him again, Athena. Let Zeus know of your desire."

"I refuse. I will no longer unbend nature's will. We may be goddesses, but let the natural flow go on its on rhythm."

Aphrodite lowered her head, reflecting on what Athena just said. Her guilt was slowly pumping through her senses.

Noticing the somberness painted on Aphrodite's face, Athena buoyantly offered, "Would you like me to tell you the story of my son?"

The beautiful face of Aphrodite lit up as she smiled at the suggestion. "Oh, please do tell me." Her sweet note rang in the dead air.