Freya scooped the water of the bath with a tasteful if ornate, but ultimately blatantly ostentatious, bowl to rinse Athena’s silky, thick mane of brandy brunette hair. Glancing to Ishtar’s side of the bath as she began to pour, Freya witnessed Ishtar pushing the head of one of her handmaidens beneath the water. The slow, gentle push of Ishtar’s hand, the submissive, compliant acceptance of the handmaiden told Freya all she needed to know about how often this exchange happened between them. Possibly even all of the handmaidens and Ishtar.

A sighed comment from Athena drew Freya’s attention.

“You missed.”

Freya instantly frowned and promptly without thinking, returned the comment with a firm denial.

“I never miss.”

Athena turned her head to look back at Freya with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile while pointing at her hair.

“The water. You missed my hair and poured it over my shoulder.”

Freya belatedly noticed Athena’s still soapy hair and her empty bowl. Gritting her teeth in embarrassment, Freya filled the bowl again and this time focused on the task of rinsing Athena’s hair. Athena glanced over to Ishtar as she murmured to Freya.

“She distracts you, doesn’t she? You have never been very good at keeping your eyes off her, not in all the time we have worked together. Nor has she been very good resisting her urges to entice you to look. She wants you to look, just like she wants you to touch. The both of you have danced this dance a hundred times before.”

Athena’s voice held little inflection, sounding like a female simply stating the facts. But Freya heard the subtle loneliness and jealousy. Freya picked up a silver and jewelled comb, running through Athena’s hair as she rebutted.

“Water follows the path of least resistance Athena . . . you know this fact better than most. Also, there is no ‘dance’ between us . . . not anymore.”

Athena laughed, but it held a sharp, jaded edge.

“Did I mishear, or did you just call yourself easy?”

Freya just smiled and rolled her eyes as she prepared her rebuttal, getting into the flow of the surprise verbal spar between them.

“Of course, focus on that part of what I said. And the key to the difference between Ishtar and I to the relationship between Ishtar and you is receptivity. I was receptive to her form of . . . comfort, and you avoided her attempts to . . . ease your tension. Throw up enough obstacles and even Ishtar will get the message that her attentions and needs could be better served and serviced elsewhere.”

Athena remained silent; her thoughts mildly bitter at Freya’s reminder. She felt Freya’s hands as they guided the comb through her hair, gentle and caring.

Athena sighed as she saw this different side to Freya. She wasn’t just a goddess of War and Death, nor of Love and Fertility. She could number among the Norse’s most noble of character and deed, being a member of the largely more diplomatic, and wiser on the whole, Vanir Clan of the Norse.

She became the Lady of the Norse Pantheon, embodying the many roles of noble and common women both at home and out on the fields of war, upon the alliance between the Æsir and the Vanir. Her noble spirit and bearing, skill at arms and homely crafts, extreme beauty, sharp wit, ability to lead and gift at controlling a room with her mere presence led her to taking on many roles which Frigga, Queen of the Norse Pantheon, once held before the Clans allied. She may carry herself as a warrior, always so strong and fearless. She may present herself as eager for lovers and the pleasures to be found in lust. But Athena knew Freya had layers yet unseen by most who knew her.

And Athena cherished being one of the few beings allowed to see this special side of Freya.

Freya loves as deeply as she is loved in return and it is this hidden side of her, the nurturing, kind and nonviolent side, which she shows to those who have earned it. Athena understood Freya, knew her better than her own Pantheon did. But Freya also understood Athena better than her own Pantheon did.

Whereas Ishtar attempted to seduce and tempt Athena in plain view, seeking to have her indulge in sensual pleasures to distract and defocus Athena from her worries, something Athena had avoided and resisted.

Freya instead offered a shoulder to lean on, as a sisterly kindness, rather than as a means of getting between her thighs. And like sisters they fought and argued, raising their voices and wished to strangle the other at times, they grew all the closer for it.

Athena could admit to herself, if no one else; as a friend, as a sister, as a partner, she loved Freya.

It left her bitter, the fact Freya and Ishtar could express themselves so openly, so without care or pause, while Athena lacked the openness to do the same.

She just wasn’t created or moulded in a way which allowed her to do so. She valued logic, self-control, patience, mental fortitude and physical reserve. Athena bore witness to the many scars created from the cruelties and tragedies her family had caused, herself even the cause of some of them.

She, Athena, was the product of rape and infidelity, of lust and fear. She never knew her mother due to her father’s cruelty, to his fear. She never had a childhood, born fully formed and armed due to her mother’s entire divinity being used to create Athena’s own.

She, Athena, cursed Arachne to be a spider and Medusa a monster to be slain. Arachne, a woman brave and foolish enough to challenge, question and point out the failings of the gods. Medusa, a woman and priestess of Athena, one raped by Poseidon within one of Athena’s temples, too mortal and weak to defend herself.

She, Athena, too afraid of intimacy, of love, of lust, of sensuality and of following in her father’s, her aunts’ and uncles’, her many siblings’ and cousins’ footsteps, she made a vow of celibacy. But her pride in her beauty, along with their own, helped create a feud between Hera, Aphrodite and herself that would lead to the Trojan War. A war which would then cause the deaths of more Heroes and demigods than any other in Greek history, Achilles, Penthesilea, Hector and Ajax to name only a few.

Athena lifted her hands and stared at them, watching the water flow over her smooth lightly tan skin to slowly drip back into the bath.

She hated the times her wisdom failed her, resented the moments when her emotions overwhelmed her and despised the instances where she even remotely resembled the majority of her Pantheon.

As the years, decades and centuries past, as the ancient days became modern nights, Athena removed more and more of her weaknesses, her failings, striving to become a being of pure logic.

To transcend emotions, break away from passion and cut herself off from the excesses of her family.

To make up for her evils, her betrayals and misjudgements made out of pride, selfishness, lack of control and fears.

Lost in thought, she came back to herself as a pair of hands, long fingered and oddly smooth yet calloused at the same time, covered and sheltered her own hands. Athena watched as those long fingers intertwining with her own, feeling a yielding and tender closeness press against her back as a feather soft kiss brushed against her cheek.

“One’s own mind is the darkest place to be lost in, especially one as clever as yours. Don’t go wandering there without me, Athena. Besides, despite Ishtar being a control freak, we are about to finally meet our babies, even one we never knew we had, ‘our daughter’ as Ishtar put it. It is something to celebrate!”

Freya crossed her arms, Athena’s along with them, so as to hug Athena, pulling their bodies, wet with water and slippery with soap, closer and tighter together. Athena leaned her head back, resting it on Freya’s broad shoulder, before turning it to bury her face against her neck and breathe in Freya’s scent which had mixed with the perfume and soap of the bath.

They were, however, quickly dragged from the sweet and tender moment by the faint rustling of cloth and a softly voiced murmur.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, my Most Noble Ladies, but the Most Glorious Light of Heaven wishes to inform you, she has made ready a fashion display so as to allow you to choose your style of dress.”

The handmaiden bowed low, before gracefully stepping back and away from the bath’s edge, maintaining the bow with ease and refinement even as she withdrew. Freya let out a frustrated sigh as she laid her cheek to Athena’s forehead, however she soon made to disentangle herself from their embrace. Athena let go while acting naturally, maintaining a calm expression as she moved to the edge of the bath, but inside own mind, she struggled with the renewed distance between Freya and herself.

Ishtar’s handmaidens stood waiting as the two goddesses exited the bath’s waters, ready with warm fluffy towels, luxuriously soft silk and cotton bathrobes and a tray of chilled fruits as an afterbath refreshment. Freya allowed the handmaidens to wrap her hair and slip the bathrobe onto her body but carried a faint scowl throughout the entire process. Athena took two towels from the maidens, using one to wrap her own hair, before wrapping the other around her waist haphazardly. As for the bathrobe, she simply draped it over her shoulders and moved on, leaving the handmaidens to make admiring glances after her. Freya huffed loudly as she followed, causing all the handmaidens to turn their admiring gazes to her.

Freya rolled her eyes at Ishtar’s training of her handmaidens. To think they had been trained to watch and admire their mistress’s naked or otherwise body rather than look away respectfully.

Freya spluttered and grumbled about a certain narcissist as she trailed along behind Athena.

“She has absolutely no shame. I am no shrinking violet nor innocent by any means but to actually train her handmaidens to openly admire her body and beauty in any state of dress is vanity incarnate!”

Athena turned her head sideways to look back at Freya, a faint smile showing at the corner of her lips. But an even fainter look of disappointment flashed through her eyes. It had taken not even half a minute for Ishtar to steal Freya’s attention from her, and Ishtar wasn’t even here in person to do it!

“Perhaps they just cannot help themselves. Ishtar is a beauty few can claim to be on par with and I doubt any are brave or stupid enough to claim to surpass her. Those who did so in the past often seemed to have ‘accidents’ befall them soon after. Though, how ‘accidental’ Ishtar just so happening to use a mace on someone’s face is quite debatable. It is also a debate which I will leave others to argue. Though, those ‘others’ also seem to have had repeated ‘accidents’ of their own.”

Freya let out another huff of exasperation, quickening her pace to walk beside Athena. Falling in step beside her, Freya glanced sideways at Athena, before looking ahead again. A frown flittered across her face as she sensed Athena’s mood had damped again, Freya had long learned Athena’s expressionless face had subtilties to it. Subtilties which gave her limited insight to Athena’s mood, though, Athena’s thoughts still remained a mystery to Freya. Though not from a lack of trying on Freya’s part.

Freya had the temptation to just ask Athena about her mood, but her instinct warned her it would be a mistake.

With Freya still pondering the issue, the pair of goddesses spotted Ishtar, seated on a throne and watching fiery dressed dancers. The dancers, their cloths an oddly revealing combination of tight-fitting silk and loose gossamer fabric, wielded a combination of swords and daggers. Their dance seemed more a graceful fight in truth, seemingly with the goal of disrobing their competition and bearing them before Ishtar for her pleasure.

Ishtar raised a single finger from her throne, using only it to gesture at the dancers. Whatever the gesture, the meaning clearly said, ‘get lost’, as the dancers quickly bowed before dispersing into the shadows of the tent. Ishtar rolled her neck before turning her attention to the approaching goddesses.

Her gaze flickered from Athena to Freya, taking in the unique sight of them fresh from a bath. A not so small flame of desire fluttered within her as her eyes trailed their toned forms. The wet sheen of the residual water on their soft skin allowed the light of the candles and natural light to trace and outline the lines of their still visible muscles, the light playing and dancing as they move toward her. Ishtar simply could not wait to drape them in jewels, silks and precious metals.

How else could she show how deeply she loved them other than showering them with her wealth?

No need to answer. Ishtar, the Queen of Heaven, always knows best.

Smiling, Ishtar manifested a pair of thrones on either side of her, each just as bejewelled, gold and tall as her own. Standing up, Ishtar spread her arms out. Her voice, filled with warmth and bewitchment, like sweet smoke, filled Freya and Athena’s senses.

“Since I have so many fashion designers, grandmaster tailors and jewellers on hand and with so many different styles, eras and cultures to choose from, I thought it best we have a show to help us choose what to wear for our first meeting with our daughter.”

Freya crossed her arms and scowled. Athena remained expressionless and stoic, though Ishtar noticed her gloomy mood and a hint of her emotions.

Disappointment, frustration, need and loneliness.

Ishtar’s gaze lingered on Athena, a possessive ardour eclipsing her other thoughts, one that roared furiously and ruinously to claim Athena and drive away her sorrows with unending maddening pleasure.

By force if necessary.

Ishtar squashed the desire quickly before she could act on it.

Though she soon discovered she had already crossed the entire distance between them, and their faces were now mere inches apart. Her hands rested on Athena’s hips, clearly trying to draw them even closer, her breath coming out in strained pants, hot and heavy.

Ishtar quickly let Athena go before she could speak, turning away and striding back to her throne. Ishtar felt worry blossom as she analysed her reaction. She had never denied she was mainly a being of instincts and passions, quick to act and slow to forgive. But she made conscious decisions, they may be reckless or hastily made but they were her own. However, her last desire and her body’s act of attempting to claim Athena were not in sync with her thoughts and will. Ishtar could actually feel dread start to gnaw at her guts.

It would be disastrous if she began to lose control of her own actions.

She would be little better than a natural disaster. Not that she wasn’t normally, but again, she made a conscious choice to act like so.

Ishtar pushed her worries and fears down and away; before turning around, a confident smile and an ‘at ease’ look in her eyes.

Athena and Freya were staring at her wide-eyed.

Ishtar knew the issue wasn’t going to just go away as soon as she saw the looks on their faces.

Still, Ishtar knew she wasn’t going to bring it up, would they? Ishtar firmly believed they wouldn’t. Nothing had happened and it would clearly embarrass her if it were mentioned, whatever their recent differences were, they were not so terrible the two of them would use this small loss of control to embarrass her, would they? Ishtar had a sinking feeling when Freya, a ‘concerned’ frown on her face, opened her mouth. However, Athena got in and spoke first, forestalling whatever Freya wished to say.

“I thought we should go with a more modern look. Less shock and awe I know but certainly more approachable. We are meeting our daughter. We want her to want to get to know us. Not stun her into kneeling and worshiping. Besides, shock and awe don’t work quite like they use to in the old days. The modern world is quite resistant and rebellious to the idea of such dramatic worship.”

Ishtar stared at Athena. Her emotions in turmoil at the unexpected . . . assistance, maybe? Ishtar had expected the roles between Athena and Freya to be reversed. Athena repressing her own curiosity so as to not humiliate her left Ishtar feel as if she had gained something. Ishtar couldn’t quite put her finger on what it is, but Ishtar felt it warm a part of herself she didn’t even realise existed.

Ishtar couldn’t quite be sure if she liked the feeling.

Still, she wouldn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth, at least not in public. And the idea of Freya, with her gloriously red gold hair, blue eyes and hard regal features in a heavy leather jacket, short top with her abs on display, denim jeans and knee-high boots, did exciting things to Ishtar’s nether regions. Putting on a renewed smile, Ishtar responded.

“Excellent idea!”