Quoted By:
“Lady Goddess, speaking truthfully I only saw a mountain and wanted to climb it. The pressure to return from your… spell… I found odd, but it added to my desire to overcome the challenge.” You, still averting your eyes from her, cannot ascertain her reaction. Yet when she does not strike you down or question you further, you decide to continue with the humble tack.
“I deeply apologize for intruding upon your domain, only a barbarian would enter upon one's home uninvited, much less of a divine such as yourself.” You hope against hope that this goddess has no clue that you did precisely that only a couple weeks ago. “How may I make amends for my grave mistake?”
On the one hand, asking how to make amends is a sensible choice in your position. By surrendering yourself to the mercy of the goddess, willingly admitting wrongdoing, you may well diminish her wrath. On the other hand, this is tantamount to admitting a debt to a deathless one- and you know well that the gods always collect on what they believe themselves owed by mortals. A worthy risk nevertheless.
“Amends. Amends? How does a mortal make amends for an injury done to an immortal? Even a king is nothing to a goddess- however much my husband might protest. Yet there are certain times at which I cannot act when a man might. Your kind are less immediately bound to the will of Zeus than we, for his dictates to you are general laws rather than personal commands. And you are no mere mortal- your blood reeks of Olympus, your stature is more like that of blessed Heracles who dwells on Olympus than that of a mortal man. Oh yes, you could make amends for daring to tread on my domain. You will be useful to me Nikandros, son of Hippomedon.” You tense up at these last words of the goddess. How could she know who you are?
“I will let you go, for now. One day I will collect on this debt owed me. Know that a favor to Thetis is yours to give, even as Zeus himself must one day recompense me. Now stand.” Ah, Thetis. You have found them both. You rise from your bow but only raise your brow once you have fully found your feet.
She is breathtakingly beautiful. The resemblance to Prince Achilles is plain- her hair, her facial structure, even the blue-gold eyes, all her features are his. It only makes sense that the features of the divine parent dominate those of the mortal parent. She wears no jewelry, only a golden dress that looks to be genuine gold fibers weaved together. She looks down at you with contempt. It is a struggle to match her gaze, to not behold the rest of her literally divine flesh. Yet you manage.
“Now leave mortal, before I change my mind.” You instantly leave at the dismissal, hustling down the mountain as quickly as you can without seeming an utter coward.
The trek down the mountain is significantly faster than the hike up. The walk back to the palace of Lycomedes is even faster, passing practically in a blink of your mind’s eye.
