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Anger
Shadows conceal the god from view. Standing isolated in the woods, he watches with a tight chest as the goddess turns from him.
As she leaves with someone else.
Fucking human. Somehow, the man has managed to deserve her, to steal her away. The mortal male tucks her into his frame. Possessive. Protective. At the sight, Anger chokes the longbow in his grip, his leather gloves straining. Another careless ounce of pressure, and the weapon will snap in half.
Acutely, he feels each step she takes like a dagger to his flesh. Anguish and jealousy are hardly strangers. He’s been suffering from these afflictions since the moment he first saw her, back in another realm, during another lifetime.
Only now does he experience the stirrings of regret. For two millennia, he’d taken for granted the chance to earn her affection. In all that time, she could have been his.
If things had been different, she would never have left Anger’s arms. He would have held, kissed, and fucked her into eternity. He would have dismantled The Dark Fates to keep her safe. Almighty Gods, he would have relocated The Stars if she’d requested it of him.
But could he have made her happy?
Rage electrifies his veins like fuses about to blow. How many times has he imagined killing that mortal, removing him from the equation, his absence opening the gate to the goddess’s heart? Anger had resisted only for the sake of their people. And perhaps…
Perhaps regardless of the source, it had filled him with pleasure to see her joyous.
As the fated couple disappears into the eventide, Anger’s fury dissolves to ash in his mouth. Now he tastes only grief, the memory of her parting-look grabbing hold of his fucking ribcage.
The fire tattoos burn across his arms. He should not be able to feel heat, but for reasons unknown, this has always been the exception.
At dawn, Anger harnesses his bow, twists in the opposite direction, and glares at the path ahead. He’s an outcast now, condemned to wander between worlds. Yet it’s not the end. The female has forsaken immortality, but the essence of her past lingers, and she remains a goddess to him.
No one shall ever compare.
Anger cuts through the forest. On the way, he crosses paths with her loyal tree. After a moment’s thought, he swipes an iron arrow from his quiver and carves into the bark. With sharp motions of his fingers, he engraves a single word.
Love
Yes. That is her true name.
Anger shoves the arrow into his pack and stalks through the woods toward the rising, scorching sun. On his way, a pair of hidden, sizzling iron wings break through his skin and flare wide from his shoulder blades, the noise like a slap in the face. If he must spend the whole of his banishment resurrecting his lost goddess, so be it. Someday, she’ll remember him.
He growls under his breath, “And when you do, I’ll be waiting.”
***
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