Susan Hated Even More Stuff

It turned out that she did know a little Greek. A few words, that her father had picked up and taught her when he heard the army was coming. Mercy was one. Yes, and please and what do you want? A father, teaching his daughter how to be a slave.

Our world was one of blood, and the honour it won; only cowards did not fight. For a prince there was no choice. You warred and won, or warred and died.

As Odysseus said, many boys took each other for lovers. But such things were given up as they grew older, unless it was with slaves or hired boys. Our men liked conquest; they did not trust a man who was conquered himself.

And there on the house’s threshold, sudden as lightning-strike, stood Thetis. Her hair shone black against the white marble of the palace. Her dress was dark, the colour of an uneasy ocean, bruising purples mixed with churning greys. Somewhere beside her there were guards, and Peleus too, but I did not look at them. I saw only her, and the curved knife’s blade of her jaw.

Its king, Peleus, was one of those men whom the gods love: not divine himself, but clever, brace, handsome, and excelling all his peers in piety. As a reward, our divinities offered him a sea-nymph for a wife. It was considered their highest honour. After all, what mortal would not want to bed a goddess and sire a son from her? Divine blood purified our muddy race, bred heroes from dust and clay. … But, like the gods’ gifts, there was an edge to it; the goddess herself was unwilling.