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Theseus felt Helen take a breath.
“Who is that?” she asked.
“Machaon,” he said. “Technically the second. He is a descendant of the demigod Asclepius.”
“Apollo’s son?”
“The very one,” he said.
As Machaon approached, the man began to shake.
“Do not be uneasy,” said Machaon, and he placed his hand on the man’s head. “I will heal you of this blight.”
The man shook more, and then his knees gave out.
It was not evident what exactly the demigod was doing, but Theseus could feel his power just as he felt all divine influence. Machaon’s power was gentle, like the soft caress of a wave against the shore.
The man collapsed forward, but Machaon caught him and held him upright. The man’s head fell back, eyes closed.
Theseus felt Helen lean forward, her body tight with anticipation.
“Is he alive?” she whispered.
Then the man’s eyes blinked open, and the room broke out into cheers.
“Rise, my friend,” Machaon said. “You are healed.”
He helped the man to his feet, and he was consumed by the crowd as he was celebrated and Machaon’s name was chanted in worship, feeding his power.
Theseus could feel it too.
“The gods withhold,” he said, his lips grazing her ear as he spoke. “We give. The gods hinder,” he said, hiking her skirt up. “We assist. The gods destroy,” he said, touching her between her legs. “We mend.”
She moaned as his fingers slid through her heat. It was all he needed to know, that she was wet enough for his cock.
He pushed her forward, pulling one hand behind her back.
He let his hand smooth over her ass and then spanked her before kicking her feet apart and shoving inside her.
“Yes, fuck!”
She gasped and met him thrust for thrust, as if she yearned for something harder and darker.
He twisted her hair around his hand and pulled. She cried out but followed his command, arching her back as he moved, keeping one hand planted on the rail. She did not move to kiss him, did not try to be anything more than a vessel, and when he felt his balls tighten and a rush surge up his cock, he pulled out, his come spraying across her ass and down the backs of her thighs.
He restored his appearance as she turned to face him, her eyes darkened with lust.
“I’ll write the story you wish to tell,” said Helen. “But I want a ride to the top.”
“Your boss is the future wife of Hades,” he said.
She raised a brow. “If Persephone will not agree to publish my story, I will go elsewhere.”
He took a step closer, letting his thumb brush over her lips. He licked his own as he did.
“Next time, I will come in this mouth,” he said and then took a step away. Before he left her, he paused. “Be sure your words sow the seeds of war…Helen.”
The Forum was empty, save for him and six high lords.
