The King's Maid- "Thank you, that will be all." I dismiss the meek handmaid as she lights the last of my candles, leaving the cavernous royal bed chamber dimly lit.

"Yes, my pri-" she catches herself. "Your highness." She bows as quickly shuffles off through the servant exit, her face blushing red. I don't mind. My position is new to all of us. As the door near the bed closes softly behind her, I lay back onto my over-large mattress. The red quilt on the bed feels an island of safety amidst the looming shadows on the edge of the candles glow. The gallant décor still left from my fathers reign is barely visible. A constant reminder of my place as his successor.

My body aches with stress. My mind is a fog of strategy and taxes and public opinion. My very being feels pulled apart like soft bread. I was never a social prince, but now that I was king, I would be required to marry soon, so the last few nights have been filled with eligible maidens, daughters of high lords and neighboring kingdoms, all cloying for a spot of importance. Every moment I could feel their piercing hawk eyes searching me for a way in, some way to endear themselves to my love. A faint touch, a sweet word, a daring neckline, peaking toward firm breasts...

Those breasts did look sweet. The thought of them stirred sensation between my legs. Why shouldn't I choose my wife off such a thing? It made me happy enough. I slid my hand under my trousers, feeling my growing manhood, rubbing it gently as I thought of what she might look like under her lavender gown. My hand grasps my shaft as I lower my trousers to my knees, laying back and taking a deep breath as I stroke faster, and faster.

I'm so caught up in my fantasy, I don't hear the servant door peak open, just a hair. I don't notice the little, breathy moans coming from behind the door, or the little eyes glaring out into my room.

A sudden crash rushes me back to my attention, I sit up alert, expecting mayhem with the guards- but seeing instead the servants door thrown open, and the humble handmaiden, crashed to the floor, her dress askew, baring a breast, her hand trying to escape the mess of fabric between her legs as she struggles to get back to her feet...

Fallen- The mood around the war table is sour, even as the weather is so sweet. The sun shines through the open arches and the sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs below soundtracks the angry yelling of the kings top generals. As the ragged and calloused men of war yell and scream about strategies while moving and knocking over the small pieces that represent our dwindling troops, I sit silent at the king's right hand. My cloak made of the night sky drapes across my chair, my ruby tipped staff rests across my shoulder.

I've long ago learned that these generals are distrustful of mages, assuming that I am here only because I used my magic to worm my way into the king's brain, even as they come to me for sacrifices and tidings for luck I cannot provide. Instead, I fight my wars in secret. Listening, learning, and making my moves when no one is looking. That is how I earned my spot at the kings right hand. How I turned the tides of wars past, and it's how I plan to turn this one, even as defeat seems eminent.

The door to the room slams open. My apprentice runs in. I hold a hand to protest as the Generals turn in anger, but he runs with wide eyes to my side, whispering something in my ear, just for me.

"If you'll excuse me," I stand up, quickly, "It appears you all have this under control." I bow to the king, and hurry out the door. I climb the stairs of my marble tower two at a time, rushing up to my study and bursting in, my apprentice close behind.

"How long?" I ask, my eyes wide.

"I came to you as soon as it happened." he says. I scratch my trimmed black beard, looking in astonishment at the center of the room at my snared trap.

In the center of the room, trapped in the circle of salt from snakes tears, you sit on your knees. A heavy iron collar with forbidden ruins is clasped at your neck and chained to the stone floor on either side of you. The impossible white of your tunic looks elegant and poised, even in tears and tatters as it appears now. The ropes woven from the finest tales and the silk of giant spiders binds your arms, and crosses between your breasts and back behind your feathered wings.

Finally, I have caught one.

"A fallen angel," I whisper. My patron will be pleased.

The Temple of Aphrodite- I have followed the golden birds south through the woods. I have redirected the river to feed into Styx and trap the damned. I have triumphed over beasts as tall as tree tops, battled bandits and tyrants, avoided the seductions of the forest nymphs, and it has all lead to this. I step out onto sand as the rhythmic tumbling of the sea plays out like a soothing loop. My chiton is torn and dirty, my legs ache, but as I look up at the marbled building adorned with pillars and ornate carvings of the deeds of the gods, I sigh in relief. I have arrived at the end of my quest. I have arrived at the Temple of Aphrodite. I run my hands through the sea foam, wondering if it is the same foam from which the goddess was formed. I wash my face in the sea water, and walk to the hallowed steps. The air smells of a perfume so sweet I cannot put it in words. The wind sounds like music, slowly, sensually playing me inside, but my feet get heavy as I near the top.

The risks of enter are great, even if the rewards are greater, but still. Many have tried, and none have succeeded. Still, I enter. The inside of the temple is much more lively than it appears from the beach. Light streams in through vaulted windows, the acolytes giggle and gossip. Some are clothed in loose robes, some are not clothed at all. Some bathe in the back corner, washing each other with soaps and oils, some braid each others hair or tend to the fires. All are beautiful. All go silent as I cross the threshold. The goddess appears in front of me so quickly I stumble back.

"Fear not, brave warrior, no one will hurt you." she smiles. "Unless that's what you like, of course." A giggle from the crowd. The feeling of all these eyes on me strikes more fear into me than a hundred swords. "Tell me why you are here." she circles around me, examining me, testing me.

"I have come to take your priestess as my wife." I respond, standing straight, feigning confidence. I look down the long hall of the temple at the woman with golden hair sitting on a marble throne. Her robes are rose red, her eyes alit with fire.

"Very well," Aphrodite says, her finger traces over my shoulder, down my back, sending a chill down my spine. "You can have her... IF" she pauses, her hand tracing around my side. "You can best my challenge." I nod. This is as far as the stories go. No one knows what happens next. Her lips almost graze my ear as she whispers. "Stay with me, for one hour. She will not hold it against you. If, when that hour is up, you find yourself able to leave, you may take her with you. If the temptation is to much..." She trails off, but I notice the throne the priestess sits on seems to shift and move, as if made up of liquid. Souls of past suitors, no doubt. "I accept your challenge," my voice quivers as I speak.

"I know the risk, but find the reward more than worthy." I bow to the priestess. Aphrodite laughs.

"Oh young hero," she chides. "You have no idea." her finger traces down my shoulder, my tunic sliding down my arm. She steps back, and snaps her fingers, turning to dust as fast as she appeared. The dust floats and flows around the room, the spirit of the goddess passing through the acolytes, possessing them one by one. They turn to face me. One speaks with the voice of the goddess.

"Set the hour glass." she says. "Your time starts now."