Archive for December 12th, 2008


The Makings of Gideon: Mommy’s Little Helper

The next few years of Gideon’s’ life went on without any further interference from Olympus. Ares and Michael were there when Syria needed them just as they had promised. Gideon had grown into the spitting images of his fathers. From the raven black hair that curled around the back of his little ears to the deep blue eyes covered by long black eyelashes that brushed his cheeks when he blinked. There was nothing immortal about him. That is, until he began his third year of life.

Syria was busy cleaning the house with Gideon’s small helpful hands more o the hindrance than help, but she permitted him to help anyway. The family room was in dire need of a good sweeping so she grabbed the broom and went to work, trying not to wake her father who slept on the bed in the same room. It wasn’t long before she heard the gleeful sound of her son’s voice.

“Look mommy, I help.”

“Yes. Gideon help mom—”She turned to see her baby boy with her father’s bed held high above his head, with his grand-father still in it asleep. “Gideon!” She gasped, quickly covering her mouth. She didn’t want to startle him and make him drop the bed. “Gideon, sweetheart put papa bed on floor. You don’t want to wake him from his nap.”

121208-1634-themakingso1.jpg “Mommy, I help.” A frown covered his chubby face.

“Yes baby I know, but Mommy has already cleaned there.” She hoped the little lie would get him to put the bed down without injuring her father.

“Ok Mommy, I put Papa down.” He lowered the bed back to the floor, rand over and gave Syria a big hug. She looked back at the bed her father still asleep.

Thank the Gods he’s a heavy sleeper.

She called to his fathers and they arrive in the blink of an eye. Michael had come alone but Ares appeared with a very stunningly beautiful woman on his arm. As flawless as she was she had to be a Goddess. Syria didn’t appreciate the intrusion of this stranger or the total lack of regard Ares showed in bringing her. Before she could confront him about, he spoke.

“Forgive me Syria, but we were on our way to Las Vegas when I heard your call. We came as quickly as we could.”

“Yes, please forgive my intrusion, I mean no disrespect. My name is Brighid, I am the Goddess of Healers and Poets, among other things. It is an honor to meet you.” The beauty said.

Syria calmed herself, under the circumstances she had no reason to be upset with Brighid or Ares. She and the God of War had no ties other than the soon they had created together.

“Pleased to meet you Brighid.”

Gideon came running when he saw both of his fathers arrive. He ran to Michael who plucked him up from the ground, swung him up to the heavens, and caught him in a loving hug.

“How are you my angel?”

Gideon was occupied with the beautiful lady with Ares. “Pretty lady, daddy.”

“Yes she is very pretty.” Michael agreed placing the fidgety tot back to the ground.

Gideon walked over to Brighid, tugged on the flowing tresses of her gown. The goddess kneeled down. “You are a cute one aren’t you?”

Gideon’s chubby hand caressed her cheek. “Pretty.”

“And a lot like your father I see.” She laughed.

Ares called to his son. “Come little one.” He scooped Gideon up into his muscular arms. “Have you been giving your mother a trouble?”

“Yes Syria, what has given you caused to call upon us?” Michael asked.

Syria recapped the story for the two men. They both looked back at the innocent youth, trying to figure out a way to explain to a three-year-old toddler the strength he possessed. Most of all they had to make him understand how easily it would be to hurt someone if he wasn’t careful.

They left the two women and took their son aside to begin the first lesson of many to come in how to control his powers.


Entry#2: A Knight’s Gift by Nix Winter

Stars littered the sky, sparkling diamonds, seemingly random to the span of a human life. The balcony stretched open under the light of the stars and Dove felt as if she might spread with it, expanding until she could embrace the whole universe. Green velvet and taffeta swirled around her as she spun, arms out, closed eyes not filtering the intensity of her emotion at all. “It’s so wonderful! Everything is so perfect!”

“You are what you’ve made yourself,” Brad said softly. Hands in his pockets, he watched, a bemused smile on his face. “You’re the one that’s perfect.”

“Hardly,” she said, both hands smoothing back earthy colored hair, long flyaway bangs that framed her face. “I’m not perfect, but I’m a doctor now. It’s Christmas Eve and I love you.”

Arms went around her, pulling her close, movements done with the speed of a warrior so that even a loving embrace was a powerful strike. “If you love me then I can overcome all things,” he said, voice lowering into a rumbling growl at her ear. “I shall be your knight and this day there shall be none who can call upon me, save you, my beautiful violet eyed lady.”

She giggled, a hand slipping under his grey tuxedo jacket to feel the warmth of his body through the thin silken shirt. “But it is you who are my lord, Brad. I wear your mark and from here to Rigel I am yours.”

“Shh,” he pleaded, kisses finding their way under her braid to the back of her neck. “This holiday, this Christmas, once it was about redemption, about a man who could make all equal and all free. So tonight, we are equals, or you shall be my lady. The Calix will have no power between us now. The power of Christmas is older than any laws of man.”

Shivering she pressed closer, strong arms going around him, powerful surgeon fingers rubbing his back. “So you’re my present,” she asked, looking up. “Do I get to unwrap my present tonight?”

“Indeed.” Dark brown eyes smiled at her, unguarded, leaving behind all the duties and trappings of his role in the world. “Unwrap me Dove, or I shall never find myself. Open me and help me find my heart so that it will always be safe with you.”

Blush burned over her cheeks. “It’s so new. I’m afraid I’ll do it wrong,” she whispered, before tugging at one of his buttons with her lips.

The orchestra struck up again inside the ballroom, and he carried the faint music into a slow and gentle swaying dance. “You can do anything, Dove. Being a doctor is perfect for you. You found me dead and brought me back to life.”

“I was a whore,” Dove said, looking up at him, eyes filled with uncertainty. “How did we get to where we are?”

“Well, first there was your laughter and your complete unpredictability, and the gentle way you touch, and how you stayed with me even after the time you had to, how you saw me as a person and not just an obligation. Then I got to know you and the more I know you, the more I’m sure that life is worth living. So see? You brought me back to life. You graduated school tonight. I give you your freedom from all obligations to the family.”

She wasn’t prepared for him to catch her hand, or the burning flash that came next translated into warmth spreading through her body. When he let go, holding her hand up for her to see, the signel, on her palm since conception, branded into her DNA, faded, disappearing as she watched. “Can you? Really? Brad?”

“Really, I can,” he said.

Held in his arms, the mark of her indentured status now so gone it the absence of it glared at her, she felt precious, warm, and slightly frightened of the future. “What does it mean?”

“It means you are free,” he said, kissing fine brown hair. “It means that you are a brilliant doctor and the person I love more than life itself. You are my lady and tonight I am your knight.”

“Love you.”

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