Aria sat down too, slowly, to keep from distracting him.

“There was so much to do before he could give me form. There were hundreds of gods running about, making a mess of the world. He killed the worst of them, left the others to keep order. They had practically destroyed the world in their feuding. He restored it - restored as much as was possible with all the tactless humans running around. He made the upper and middle realms. Every day he spent preparing. He was stalling; I know that now.

“You see, he was complete. He knew the one he loved, and he knew what he needed to do. But I was not. If he made me, I would be forced to find her. I would have no powers until I found her. And if it turned out that she could not love me, then, what does a god do without a purpose? If I fall, I’ll take him down with me. He should not have made me. I should have remained a thought in his mind, a longing in his heart. He should have returned to sleep, let the world burn out of existence. But he’s an idiot like me.”

He had not looked at Aria once since he sat. Perhaps he had forgotten her existence. He simply breathed out the words, one after another, like a previously drowning man gulping down air. His fingers traced the spaces between floor tiles, making the same swirling patterns over and over again.

“The same way he knew me, I knew her,” he smiled there, longingly, “the most beautiful woman in the world. And I couldn’t wait to find her, to find purpose. I know what every other god feels, that draw towards your goal. I know why Garo fights, why Evera pairs lovers, why Alogun collects book after book. It’s a fire inside you. You can barely eat, or sleep, or think every moment that it calls to you.

“When he said that he’d found you, I counted the days until we could meet. He set arbitrary, stupid rules. Yes, I know that you’re young and stupid. Nothing could happen between us till you are a century old at least.” Aria stared in stunned silence, but he continued, oblivious. “But he made so much of a fuss about that first meeting that I should have known that something was wrong.”

He breathed, seemingly for the first time since the speech started, then he picked up his head and looked at her. “It was a disaster, of course. I could barely speak. When, I did I sounded stupid. I think you pitied me.”

Aria was still trying to recall anything like the events he was describing. She had entertained four suitors and none of them matched his looks or temperament. If he had not erased her memory, then he was severely delusional.

“I think I noticed the issues at our third meeting. You disagreed with everything I said” he waved a hand, brushing the fact away. “Understandable. We’re different people after all. But we did not share one thought in common. If I said the sky was blue, you said it was gray.” He paused for so long that Aria wondered if he had forgotten his tale. “Papa knew, of course. He hinted, but I wasn’t listening and he does not like to talk. So he fell silent. He let me learn the truth myself.” Another paused. “I asked you to marry me.” He laughed. “It was joke, partly. But, then, you looked so horrified. And I knew. You were not her.

“You did not act like her. You felt no draw to me. You found me annoying. She, the real Ovi, would be a missing part of my soul. We would fit, like two pieces of potter broken and then reunited.

“I had to probe. To find out what was run. I requested a reason for your refusal. You would not give it, so I pressed. You were not the shy type, after all. I pressed until I annoyed you, but I had to know.” He gave another, mirthless laugh. “You answered. You explained to me in great detail exactly what you thought of me. I can still recite every word. I was a fool, a pushover, too opinionated, arrogant, self-righteous, and overly fascinated by the sound of my own voice. If you had a choice between marrying me and becoming a cockroach, you would dive head-long into a six-legged existence.”

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Aria laughed out loud. It was the ugliest laugh that had ever escaped her. She lost control of her limbs, only managing to slow the speed at which she collided with the floor. She managed not to roll, but she had to clutch her middle to control the force of her laughter.

She remembered him: Isei ‘rabbit’ Alochi. ‘Rabbit’, because he was soft, fluffy, and impossible to take seriously. At first glance, Achi in no way resembled the boy from her past, but their temperaments were identical. Isei would have absolutely protected a woman who attempted to murder him. More than that: he would have gone to any length to secure a pardon for her. He had a soft spot for every living thing: from scar-bearing bandits to fire ants. He worked the night shift at Saya’s Place, a cheap and filthy dining hall where the owner delighted in treating his workers like dung - and he never complained. What little coin he earned, he gave to beggars, claiming that they needed it more than him, or spent on Aria, for whom he had a pathetic, impossible to dislodge, obsession.

She had not recalled him because she had never considered them involved. He had simply been a two-month long rash that she had found difficult to shake off. His proposal had knocked her off her feet. It had proven that his infatuation was not waning, despite her attempts to put him off. He didn’t know how close she had come to accepting it - not because she cared for him, but because he had been so kind. Somehow, deep down, every woman’s dream must be to find a man who gave her all his money and worshiped the ground beneath her. But the choice had been clear. A man like him - clean, warm, kind, and good, deserved someone to match. Someone who had never taken a life, someone who was not disgusted by his weakness. To accept him would have been an injustice – to him and to the woman meant for him.

Achi watched her amusement dispassionately. The utter lack of amusement on his face, combined with the memory of her situation, finally killed her laughter.

“I didn’t mean most of that.” The defense sounded inadequate to her, but she felt that she had to offer it. “You just wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“I know.” He didn’t look offended. “You said what I needed to hear. You convinced me of what my father could not. I had the wrong woman.”

Aria had to suppress a smile. “Insulting you does not stop me from being your destined love.”

“Yes, it does.” He sighed, lay down, and stared at the ceiling. “It’s difficult to explain to you. But imagine that you planted a seed, a golden bean seed that would grow into a golden plant. Imagine that you returned later and found just a normal bean plant there. What would you think?”

“Someone replaced it?”

He smiled. “Exactly. It does not matter that it is growing in the same place. It does not even matter if it is growing from the same seed. Whether the plant was modified by magic or corrupted by pests, all that matters is that it is not a golden bean plant. I could pretend that you are her, but it will not make it so. You do not love me, and I do not love you. I love someone else. So, you can never give me my powers, and I can never give you yours.”

Aria frowned. “My powers?”

“Ovi is the goddess of time and fate. Yes. Your powers.”

“I am a goddess?”

“No. Ovi would have been a goddess. When she kissed me.”

The words took a long time to morph into understanding. “But,” she struggled. “Maybe it is me.”

“It is not.”

“How do you know? You’ve never kissed me.”

“I don’t need to. If you look at me and you see the love of your life, the one you can’t live without, the one who completes you, then you are Ovi. If you do not, then you are wrong - perhaps only in a small, subtle way, but you are wrong. You are not her.”