You know this has all happened before…

A flutter of wings unwanted…

A second time, a second life, a second chance to defy the Fates. Decades younger, decades wiser, all the scars of the past and all the strength. Prince of the Horses, King of the Bees, Wolf of the Fields, Sire of the Tides. With blood on your teeth and foam at your heels and ash on your back, you have returned to challenge the gods at their own game. What a terrible, grievous Fate.

Sing, Aeneas, you knew what was coming for you.

The Actors

Present

Aeneas: The Hero of This Story. Bronze-colored Lupin demigod with pink eyes. Prince of the Horse Fields who escaped its destruction. Formerly Aineíās. Destined for godhood. (He/They)

Clotho: God of Beginnings. Manifests as a Kit to wolves. Weaves the birth of all things. Part of the Moirai. (They/Them)

Lachesis: God of Bridges. Manifests as a Jocol to wolves. Enigmatic. Part of the Moirai. (They/Them)

Atropos: God of Endings. Manifests as a Lupin to wolves. Decrees the death of all things. Part of the Moirai. (They/Them)

Venus: God of Love and War. Denoted by her pink wings, smile, and beating heart. Loved and feared. Dam of Aeneas. (She/They)

Minerva: God of Wisdom and War. Denoted by grey feathers, smile, and translucent skin. Respected and feared. Patron of Diomedes (She/They)

Janus: God of the Sky and Storm, Juno and Jupiter. Two-headed, four-winged, hundreds of internal arguments. Ruler of the gods but subordinate to the Moirai. (They/Them)

Neptune: God of the Earth and Freshwater. Patron of horses and prefers to appear in their form. Notoriously grumpy. (He/They)

Salacia: God of the Sea and Saltwater. An ancient god and ruler of the oceans. Withdrawn. Subject to many theological debates. Lover of Prosperina. Dam of Agamemnon. (She/They)

Apollo: God of Prophecy and Disease. A stranger god welcomed to the pantheon like Venus. Prone to ominous statements. Petty. (He/They)

Trivia: God of Magic and the Hunt. Three-headed and revered and feared, ruling over the laws of the Hunt. Prone to ominous statements. (She/They)

Prosperina: God of Death and Rebirth. Known by many names and shapes. Contradictory and transitional. Lover of Salacia. (They/Them)

Vesta: God of Kin and Fire. Eldest of the youngest. Holds the pantheon together. Does not talk much. (She/They)

Ceres: God of Flora and Agriculture. Thinks the pantheon's bickering is wasteful. Formerly the war god called Mars. Extremely powerful if angered. Dam of Penthesilea. (She/They)

'Mercury': God of.... something. Perpetual liar. Do not trust. (He/They)

Orcus: God of the Below and Justice. Punisher of broken oaths. Remembers names, lives, deaths. Do not break an oath. (He/They)

Past

Creusa: Princess of the Horses. Brown Lupin with golden eyes and chip in left ear. A brave warrior of the Horse Fields. Killed in the Fields' destruction. (She/Her)

Penthesilea: Wandering Hunter. Rare Volmyr demigod with red eyes, varied scars. Ally to the Horse Fields. Killed in climatic battle. (She/They)

Alexander: Prince of the Horses. Bronze-colored Lupin with brown eyes and scattered scars. Defender of the Horse Fields. His and Creusa's deaths is bound to the Moirai's design. (He/Him)

Ulysses: Clever King. Small, heavily scarred Jocol with grey eyes. Appointed head of the Sea Wolves (the Raiders). Killed by a stingray. (He/Him)

Diomedes: Champion of the Gods. Melanistic Bracchus. One of the greatest warriors ever born. Betrayed by the gods. (Answered pronoun request with smiley face) :)

Atreus: The Chosen One. Grey-colored Lupin demigod with green eyes. The hero of this time. Doomed. Killed in climatic battle. (She/They)

WIP

Future

Dido: Queen of the Pyre. The second lover of Aeneas. Tall Jocol with unusual brown-gold fur and brown eyes. She will die after Aeneas abandons her. (She/Her)

Pallas: The third lover of Aeneas. Lean Anubra (golden jackal) with tawny fur and gold eyes. They will be killed by Turnus in battle. (They/Them)

Turnus: Warrior of the River. Muscular Bracchus with russet fur and brown eyes. The fourth lover of Aeneas. He will be killed by Aeneas in a duel in revenge for Pallas. (He/Him)

Ascanius: Seed of the Tides. Bronze Lupin with with green eyes. Pup of Aeneas. She will be destined to resurrect the Horse Fields pack and bring a glorious kingdom. (She/Her)

Romulus: Descendant of Ascanius. Black Lupin with green eyes. They will be the ruler of the Horse Fields who conquers the Sea Wolves. (They/Them)

WIP

WIP

Obvious Placeholder Post

Notes to self: Include entries designating Part I of Act I, the Horse Fields' destruction, the wanderings, the kingdom of Dido, the manipulations of the Moirai, and Dido's death, and the return to a promised home.

Another Obvious Placeholder Post

Notes to self: Include entries designating Part II of Act I, the White River, Pallas' life and bonding with Aeneas, introduce Turnus and his bonding with Aeneas, Lavinia, end with the beginning of the war and Pallas' death.

A Third Obvious Placeholder Post

Notes to self: Include entries designating Part III of Act I, the White River war, Turnus and Aeneas' struggle between their opposing sides and their bond, Aeneas learning Turnus killed Pallas, the duel, Aeneas killing Turnus and losing himself, the aftermath, the drowning, the bargain.

Release

CW: Drowning, mentions of blood, death.

(This is how it ends, the last says.)

The White River howls in fury. Its waters expand beyond the banks in the heavy rain, rushing past with a serpent’s fury. There is no way for the battle to continue in the flood. Any wolf unlucky enough to trip shall face impossible odds. Even, by some stroke, they survive the initial shock of the eating cold, the waters are too fast to swim against; the banks too slippery. Worse, there is no chance of burial, of recovering the bodies to give a proper, fitting rest. The best they can hope for is the fish to clean their bones, freeing the soul from its captivity.

Aeneas, king of the White River, knows this all too well, for he has fallen into the river.

He has no memory of how he ended up in the river. It is possible that he was chasing a nameless wolf whose name nor face he cannot remember, only to slide on mud and fall in. He might have been helping a friend, an ally, Ascanius, and shoved them out of water, taking their place. They would return to their dens, singing of his noble, terribly heroic sacrifice. Something the wandering bards would love to echo.

Or perhaps he simply walked into the waves.

It matters not. Right now, he is struggling for air. If Aeneas wants to survive, he needs to find where mud meets stone. There, his claw guards, gifted by his mother so many years before, could save him.

Waves march up like soldiers and Aeneas braces, taking a deep breath. The first hits, pushing him underwater. He swims underneath, dodging the second, third, fourth. When a gap exposes itself, he swims up and takes another breath. He repeats the process, again and again, moment by crucial moment, until he is almost to the shore.

(Remember the prince: holdfast, the second whispers.)

Somewhere, the pack is waiting for Aeneas, huddling together for warmth. The raider Jocol and Ascanius exchange stories, with Ascanius carving a bee scrimshaw. They know Aeneas will be back, shivering and soaked, but alive. It is all Aeneas has left. He thinks of that to give him strength. He propels himself forward, reaching out with clawed guards and gauntlet to find gripping rock.

…And Aeneas fails. Bronzed claws slide through the mud. There was no stone after all. Aeneas falls back into the river and, in his surprise, swallows water. The coldness spreads into panic, blossoming from his stomach into pounding heartbeats.

He is drowning. Oh gods, oh Fates, he is drowning. This is what the vision meant. It was not the blood of Turnus or the blood of himself, but the dripping, dripping water in his lungs. The same liquid- mixed with slaughter- of his hearteating mother. Demigod of seafoam. How fitting.

No. He must try again. One last time. Using all of his burning, thrashing muscles at once, he pushes upward… only for a wave to slam him back down. It knocks the air from his lungs and they flood with water. Aeneas begins to sink. He cannot try again, cannot swim up and break his fate. No strength is left.

He feels… peaceful, in the end. The panic flees with his dignity, as he floats somewhere between sky and earth. Unlike Turnus, unlike Pallas, unlike all the others, there is no fear. Nothing. Only the acknowledged irony that King Aeneas, the wolf who once had seafoam eyes, drowns, and the imagining of what is beyond.

Ascanius will lead- foretold years ago- as Aeneas takes his place in the below, when the fish clean his bones and free his soul. Ulysses' shade promised he would be given only the best and the gods confirmed. So, what is it, then? He likes to imagine the Plains, with its sweet, golden grass. The sky is blue and unstained with smoke. In the center, as it once was, is his home. His true home. Alexander watches over, crowned in the laurels he never got to bear, and there they are. All of them: Penthesilea, Creusa, Anchises, Pallas, Turnus; maybe Dido finally forgave him, too. He cannot wait to see them.

Aeneas dies young.

No body is left to bury.

(For now, the first replies. For now.)

Bargain

CW: Godly body horror, toxic but well-intended parenting

There is no field. No friends greet Aeneas. Only a cold, burnt expanse of a place he can almost remember. The sun falls in the distance. A tree, stripped of bark and leaves, stands in the center of this place, a mockery of something (but what?) The darkness surrounding it seems to go on forever.

He is alone.

Oh Fates, he is alone.

(They listened.)

“Aeneas, you have died,” a voice (or many) says. A Lupin, a Kit, and a Jocol are there. No ash clings to their fur. Aeneas tenses. He has never seen these wolves before and yet he swears he knows them. “But, you have proven yourself a hero. Worthy of the gods.”

“Well done, my son,” a massive shape flows out of the dark, illuminated by the distant, pinkish red light of the sunset. The god creeps over on her wings, leaving talon prints in the snowlike ash. Her fur turns a bloody, rich red where her glowing heart drums. She turned to face Aeneas, all tongues and teeth. The grin of the god Venus.

Mother.

”Aeneas, you have proved yourself." Venus croons, raising up on her haunches so she can spread her wings, red veins and red light creating a constellation over the membrane. ”We have tested your with my war, with my love, with my loss, and you have risen a hero.”

The son of love and war.

“My cousins, my home?” Aeneas whispers, unable to speak any higher. It cannot be, it cannot be.

“It was for you. All of it.” Venus says as her long neck coils down to face Aeneas. Still grinning with all the kindness she has for him. In this kindness, she had inspired him to love, and to slaughter. ”And now, you can take your rightful place among the gods, my son.”

She turns and Aeneas sees it: From the stardust and ash in front of the tree of his almost home, is a pair of godly wings. A pair for Aeneas the god.

The wings flutter, anticipating. They are wide, perfect for soaring endlessly but chasing fast, with rich bronze membranes that fade into seafoam. They would fit him perfectly. Aeneas walks over to touch them with his nose.

But then Aeneas stops.

He does not want this.

Aeneas wanted to live a quiet, long life of no gods, no heroes, no Fates.

Maybe he still wants this.

“…What if,” Aeneas says, “what if I made a bet?”

All three Fates turn to face him. Their teeth pop white against the black of their mouths. “A bet?”

”Aeneas,” Venus cautions, but he does not listen.

“I want to be a wolf," Aeneas says, "a mortal wolf who dies old and ingloriously. But I cannot do this if the Horse Fields burn. If you can send me back to my home, to the war, with all my memories of this destined path intact, and prove this was not Fated- that you Fates are fallible- then I can live my life in that future. Of a Plains that never fell.”

“And if we win,” the first (or all the Fates) says, “what do you do?”

“Then I shall accept the godhood you designed for me. I will have lived a second life and still proven your plans are infallible. You Fates are the highest of gods.” He pauses and takes a steady breath; his heartbeat races. “Do we have a deal. Do you promise?”

The Lupin, the Kit, and the Jocol pause. Venus’ eyes are wide as suns. Finally… ”Promise.”

. . .

Sing the story again.

Of rage and grief, of lost and found, of love and war.

Of Aeneas.

Shall we?

. . .

Aeneas wakes up, gasping as though he had drowned. He did drown, in fact.

Creusa glares at him, alive. Alive. She is alive. “You looked like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“And what happened to your eyes?” she says, before tilting her head to the side. “No matter. Aeneas, there are raiders in the fields. The war just started. I don’t want you to kill the pack by missing it.”

“What?” Aeneas says, “I mean, yes. Let us go the war.”

Aeneas stands up, holdfast.

(A god of love and war rests. Planning.)

(A Lupin, a Jocol, and a Kit watch. Waiting.)

And it all begins anew.

The Next Obvious Placeholder Post

Note to self: Begin Part I of Act II in this post. Introduce tension of Aeneas balancing the knowledge of the future with obscuring it. Possibly introduce Ulysses or Diomedes?

Placeholder post

Note to self: Diomedes has a tic of answering with "for real?" No clue why but it's inherently funny.