Title: Facing East
100moods prompt: 74. Playful (My table)
Pairing: Zeus/Europa
Word count: 520
Rating: PG
Summary: She was a daughter of kings, yet she only wanted one thing.

She was a daughter of kings, yet the only thing she wanted was a room facing east so she could see the sun rising. Her father Agenor – having held her bloody, slimy, utterly new form in his arms, staining his splendid gold-encrusted robe and gazing down in a tiny face, a tiny will, a tiny new grandness – had always wanted to give his daughter all the things in his power to give.

All she wanted was a room facing east to wake up with the sun on her face.

So Agenor instructed the finest architects of his land to build his daughter a sleeping chamber that would never make sleep elude her or bad dreams find her. A room with a view on Apollo’s rising face. They built it to the letter (except they had no power over the bad dreams – no one does).

Europa dreamt the sweetest dreams, the light curtains of her window softly blowing over her face. The room was high and it was light and there were mirrors – in the mornings there were hundreds of suns, all landing in her eyes.

(Sometimes, Agenor worried she would go blind this way, but then she kissed his beard and told him not to take this joy away from her.)

Her friends trooped at her window every morning until she came out to play. They could’ve arranged to meet outside, in the grass, but the lure of the sun-castle was stronger. A beacon in the shady morning. Every morning they closed their eyes against the glow of a hundred suns and then Europa was a bright light sliding out from her sheets, smiling, smiling.

They had different games, but Europa was the star (no, the sun) in all of them – she caught the ball, she drew the lines, she decided who won the race. She was the first to shrug off her fine robes off her shoulders and go swimming in the sea. The sea, warm with her presence, the land across, waiting for her to bring the light. The world was waiting.

Zeus, cold from living with Hera, had eyes for light, for curtains of sunshine tumbling down a shimmering back. Her mouth was warm honey. She was life and he wanted to take it – and give it back. Olympos, cold cold Olympos. He left his wife in her bed.

Meeting Apollo on the way, he said: “Make the sun rise.”

Apollo understood (as always) and did.

The playing maidens, the flowing honey on the plain. The sea lapping hungrily at the warm sand, luring – please come here. Please. Zeus disguised himself as the moon and as opposites attract, it worked. The white bull, the golden maiden. The sea carried them contentedly, even as Europa clung to Zeus in fear.

In the afterglow of their love-making, he said: “I will build you a house made out of glass. The sun will be everywhere and you will be in it forever.”

She smiled at him.

He rested his hand on her forehead, felt warm all over. He told her: “This will be your land.”

And that is what happened.