It was evident that you were already quite deft at it. Not a surprise to me. You’d been a dancer, after all.
I was content to wait her out, and in the meantime, learn all manner of insights simply by observing you in your surroundings. But I was also curious to see how she would interact with you.
“Perhaps you should try calling her, cucciolo,” I suggested, and so, you did.
We were sitting by an artesian fountain, having just refreshed ourselves with its cool, clear water, when Lena made her appearance. In a facsimile of her bloodborn body, she looked just as I remembered from my youth, adorned in a white stola made of a near-translucent gauze that shifted and floated in her wake. Her nipples blushed pink beneath the material, and her shoulders were sun-kissed and bare. Her snakes, interwoven with her strawberry-blonde locks, encircled her head in a crown of writhing vipers. At the moment, the reptiles were placid with their tongues and fangs neatly tucked away. Nevertheless, I felt their eyes upon me, an intruder.
“Vincere.” She stooped to kneel, never taking her eyes off of me, and you ran to her—full-speed and without hesitation—throwing yourself in her arms and tunneling your face into the crevice of her neck. The snakes shifted to make room for your embrace.
“Mater,” you said with exaltation, and the small-minded part of me burned with jealousy. Another part was fear, for if your loyalty was to her, how could I possibly protect you?
Lena lifted her chin and greeted me with a stately nod. “Andronicus,” she said.
“Mater.” You tugged at the fabric of her dress. “Why do you call him that? His name is Henri.”
“Andronicus is the name I blessed upon him, Vincere. It means ‘warrior.’ Doesn’t he look like a warrior to you?” She gave you a small smile and directed your gaze back towards me. You gave me a scrutinizing once-over.
“Should have named him Teddy Bear,” you said smartly. Lena chuckled, and despite my seething anger, I smiled.
“Why did you name me Vincere?” you asked. It was clearly a question you’d posed to her many times before and already knew the answer.
She stood, still holding your hand. Seeing her fingers clasped so possessively around yours made me want to sever the appendage at her wrist.
“Because you are my little conqueror, Vincere. My clever prince. And one day you will win the hearts and minds of our people. Won’t he, Henri?” Towards you, her tone was warm and encouraging, almost playful, but she addressed me as a cold queen would her subjects.
“He has already won my heart and mind,” I said. You smiled bashfully and dropped your gaze. I had many words I wished to convey to Lena, none of them in your presence. “Vincent said you’d planned to pick grapes.”
“Can we, Mater?” you asked, staring up at her with your long eyelashes cloaking your eyes. Our appearances in dreams were an amalgamation of how we viewed ourselves and each other. The shape of your eyes and the bone structure of your face seemed almost cat-like, and I wondered if that was yours or Lena’s impression.
“Of course, my darling. Why don’t you find the ripest bunch while I get our baskets?”
You ran across a grassy field to the nearest row of vines. The chore consumed your attention. I had so many questions for Lena, but now that she was there, I was finding it difficult to organize my thoughts.
“Why?” I asked. It could cover any host of deceits. She only needed to pick up the thread.
“Why did I deliver you a god instead of a mortal?”
“Yes.”
“You certainly haven’t gained any appreciation for my gifts in my absence.”
“A gift? How could you possibly see it that way?”
She gave me a scathing look; her snakes hissed with mild aggression.
“You were in love with a human. A weak-minded mortal, who would have given you, at best, a few years of carnal pleasure. That dancer, enchanting as he was, was never going to be strong enough for you. He was beneath you.”
The lie infuriated me. You were better than me in every way.
“So, you made that decision for me?” I asked bitterly. “You couldn’t have allowed me those precious few years?”
Even though I treasured every moment we spent together, my grief over your former life was still raw. That she’d forced my hand, made it so that I’d had no choice but to rob you of your talent, your future, your life… we’d been co-conspirators in your demise, and