Upon reaching adolescent, Vulcan thought it best the twins expand their knowledge in order to improve their forging skills. Aphros, wanting to apply aesthetic qualities into his design, sought tutelage under Minerva, Apollon, the Muses, and his mother; Cyprus, wanting to further improve her abilities as a smith, travelled throughout the known world learning under various gods and mortals. Relying on raw talent and gained expertise, the twins were able to gain notoriety among the Olympians, with many praising the two deities on their abilities to create authentic armor sets and weapons both efficient and refined in appearance.
While the majority of the elder gods took delight in the twins, Lady Venus held nothing but contempt for their existence, much to Vulcan’s dismay. As if possessed by an evil spirit, the goddess would succumb to random acts of violent rage, attempting to harm, if not, kill her own children. Once the spirit departed Venus would return to her normal self, apologetic and ashamed of her actions. Deities such as Bacchus, Apollon, Discordia, and many more would attempt to cure the representation of beauty, but too little avail. With little options available and fearing for both the safety of his children and wife, Vulcan was forced to build a separate room for whenever the goddess entered her madden state. Though she was prescribed remedies and blessings to somewhat control her random mood swings, it did little to quell the maelstrom housed within the unhinged Venus.
There came a day when Vulcan and Aphros had to leave for the Underworld to gather supplies for a commission. While the two males were out, the smithing god instructed Cyprus to look after her mother while they were gone, much to her annoyance. The pair bickered back and forth until Cyprus begrudgingly complied to her father's demand. As the hours passed, and with no indication of the pair returning anytime soon, the rebellious Cyprus hatched an idea to disregard her father's request and visit the human realm. Packing all the necessities needed for her trip, the goddess was about to leave when her thoughts suddenly drifted towards Venus, who was fast asleep after succumbing to another one of her episodes. She immediately dismissed her worries as memories of her mother's abuse entered her mind.
“She can manage by her lonesome,” Cyprus whispered. “Do I not deserve some time to myself, away from this mad harlot I call a mother? Surely, no harm will come to her if I attend to more important matters.” With no one to stop her the young goddess departed, unaware of a malevolent individual glaring at her from a distance.
Aimlessly, Cyprus hiked among the dwellers who knew not her presence, taking delight in the freedom it brought her. After a long and tiresome trek, Cyprus found herself on the island of her birth and used the opportunity to sleep for a bit. Within her dream, Cyprus saw images of her mother before she fell victim to madness, when the bond between mother and daughter was strong and genuine. These past echoes did little to ease the hurt within Cyprus's heart, as she yearned for those long, golden days she shared with Venus. It would have been better for the goddess to sever those bonds entirely, considering all the anguish her bitch of a mother had wrought onto her and her father. Alas, whether out of weakness or love, Cyprus could not forsake the bond she had for Venus.
As the goddess tried desperately to wrestle with these feelings, an image of a man began to take form. The stranger was of average stature and wore a wrinkly, tattered, white robe with a hood covering His face. Despite His feeble appearance, the man in rags radiated with power that surpassed Lord Jove, himself. Cyprus instantly knew that the stranger before her was no apparition, but something ancient. The man in rags sensed the maiden’s discomfort and peacefully held up His hands. When He did, the inner turmoil Cyprus struggled with began to subside, turning her fears into one of intrigue at the specter before her.
Before the young goddess could respond, the man in rags held a finger to His lips, silencing the female smith. He pointed to His left and a mirage began to form, revealing a sleeping Venus in the room her father built. What came afterwards was of a man bearing her father’s face, but Cyprus knew that could not be; in addition to her father still in the underworld with her brother, the imposter bore a malevolent presence hidden behind a stoic expression.
The goddess did not seem to recognize the present danger before her, for she seemed more surprised of her ‘husband’ towering over her, than she was afraid. Before Venus could respond, the being taking on Vulcan’s form took hold of her and kissed her passionately. Confused and still groggy from sleep, Venus could do little but indulge in the imposter’s desire. When their lips parted, a lustful need overcame the goddess, who wanted nothing more but to please her husband. Not suspecting any trickery, Venus beckoned her lord to bed so that they might satisfy one another.
“How long has it been, O husband of mine,” Venus spoke in an alluring voice. “How many seasons have passed since we’ve shared a bed? All those lonely nights with neither one of us able to warm the other. Worst yet, you had to endure so much because of my infliction. Come to bed with me, my love, and let me make up for all those times lost.”
Cyprus could do nothing but look on as her mother unknowingly bed another man. The goddess turned toward the man in rags, begging Him to step in and stop this from transpiring any further, but to no avail.
“I cannot intervene, child of the forge,” He spoke sympathetically. “The agreement I made with the three Sisters forbids me from interfering in the affairs of this realm. At best, I am allowed to assist your people in small doses so not to arouse suspicion.”
Crestfallen at the ragged man’s response, Cyprus could do nothing but look as her mother make merry with a god posing as her father. Unbeknown to the goddess of beauty and love, the imposter’s form began to alter. His stature was no longer bulky and large but muscular and well-toned – akin to one whose body was built for military combat. His curly and wild black hair became trimmed and well cut to reveal crimson pupils fuming with malice, all directed toward her now bewildered mother. Mars Ultor, fueled by Greco rage, had revealed himself and now stood over his former mistress like a predator preparing to strike.
Likewise, Cyprus looked on in disbelief at her uncle’s horrific action. For as long as she could remember, he kept mainly to himself and would often keep a safe distance away from the other Olympians. She made a few attempts at getting to know him better, but he would shoo her away with a malicious glare. It was there that Aphros and she were made aware of the complicated relationship their mother and uncle had, and why it was important to keep a distance from him. Cyprus, young and naive, thought her parents were exaggerating the situation and that her mother was trying to hide away her past tendencies as a philandrist. Now, to watch her mother bound by her uncle, alone and afraid, made the young deity realize the seriousness of her parent’s warnings and how foolish she was to leave her alone.
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
Desperately, Cyprus tried many times to awake from her slumber, but all attempts failed. Her attention was then focused on the man in rags, whose veiled eyes remained focus on the image playing out before them. Irked by the stranger’s nonchalant reaction, Cyprus darted toward the man, her hands gripping His robe and her desire to cause harm recognizable.
“Accursed specter,” Cyprus seethed through grit teeth. “What game are you playing at? Do you intend to do nothing as my uncle have his way with my mother? How long must I endure this torment before I can depart from this prison of yours? As a child of two Pantheon representatives, I demand you release me from this slumber, whilst I can resist the urge to –”
Before Cyprus could finish her threat, the man in rags gently wrapped His own hands around hers, causing her anger to quickly diminish. What came afterwards was a chilling sensation she had never felt before – as though her very existence was being devoured by an unseen force. The goddess realized too late that she was playing a dangerous game with no hope of winning: should the stranger allow it, He could end her as easily as one could crush an ant.
“Patience, goddess of the forge,” the man in rag’s tone was calm but Cyprus could sense the veil warning hidden in His voice. “Can you honestly say you have a chance against this warmonger? Should you face him, he will surely use you to do more harm to your mother. Know this: the beast will, indeed, face retribution for his transgressions, but you must be patient and plan ahead in order to achieve victory."
Patience was the furthest thing from Cyprus's mind. In truth, she felt more inclined to murder Mars and save her mother. Nonetheless, Cyprus knew she wasn't strong enough to defeat her uncle, so opted to follow the ragged man's advice. Taking a steady breath, Cyprus forced herself to calm down watch the event to play out before her.
Despite her mother’s desperate attempt, Warmonger Mars proved the stronger of the two as he tightened his hold on Venus. Reveling in his victory but wanting to torment the divine prostitute even further, the song of Jove proceeded to make a deal with her: should she agree to a night of passion with him, then he would not make any attempts on her two children. Both goddesses, knowing of the ramification to the god’s demand, fell silent. Prior to Cyprus and her brother’s birth, their parents (unlike their first union) had renewed their vows to one another on the River Styx. Vulcan promised to become a more attentive husband, and Venus vowed to remain a dutiful wife, lest she has her husband's consent. Mars was asking for Venus to break a sacred vow that would have reprehensible damage on her as a goddess; the riverbed's curse would strike back and brand her as an oath breaker, cursing Venus with untold suffering for ten Olympian years.
The goddess was at a crossroad with neither choice working in her favor. On one hand, she agrees to the demands of Jove’s beastly son and endure further shame, or she resists and risk her children’s safety. Worse yet, Vulcan would suffer the most regardless of her choice. Cyprus, though not present, sensed a maelstrom of emotions – anger, disgust, bitterness, shame – stir within the goddess. She could feel her mother’s embarrassment at the notion that ANY individual (god, mortal, and otherwise) could use her as some submissive slave. Regardless of the frivolous taunts many would say behind her back, Venus was no one’s tool – she was a free-spirited goddess of desire, beauty, and a proud Olympian, subservient to no one but Father Jove. Rage enveloped the goddess as she was about to release her wrath onto the arrogant fool whom she once had the fortune of sharing a bed with. Just as her wrath had reached its peak, however, it came to a stop and was suddenly replaced with feelings of regret and self-hatred.
With no control over the matter, Cyprus watched silently as recollections of Venus played out before her, ranging from her time as a loving wife who supported her husband, to a caring mother who cherished her two precious gifts. What brought Cyprus to tears, thought, were of the visions focused mainly on her mother and herself when they were close: the crowns of flowers they made, their times spent on the field, the laughter they shared when telling jokes. These images Venus carried over not only held affectionate emotions, but also shades of guilt – shame at the thought of failing her children, her husband, and becoming a living husk. Though it could be argued that she was not acting in the right frame of mind, Venus could not help but blame herself for all that transpired.
The compound guilt she felt for her pass transgressions, coupled with the need to protect her children, was all the goddess of desire needed to make her choice. With a defeated sigh Venus, once full of vigor and balky will, submitted to the will of Pater Mars.
Just as her mother’s assault was about to commence, Cyprus found herself facing away from the lingering image as the man in rags shielded her eyes from what was about to transpire. Despite the goddess’s initial protest, the man in rags kept hold of the frantic maiden as a sympathetic sensation enveloped her.
“You need not see, this,” He simply stated.
The goddess understood the reason behind the ragged man’s act, but it brought her little comfort. Though her eyes were shielded, and no sound reached her ears, a painful sensation tore through her divine flesh with such finesse it made her wail in agony. All at once, her body was riddled with unfamiliar feelings: shame, disgust, fear, rage, and a desire for death. It was too much for the inexperienced maiden to endure as she collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming down her face as her body trembled uncontrollably. The man in rags wanted nothing more but to shield the goddess from this unnecessary trauma but knew any misstep on His part could warn the other Olympians of His presence and give them an excuse to cause further conflict down the line. Though it pained Him to see any creature face such hardship, the man in rags could do little but soothe the goddess whose body continued to reflect the echo of her mother’s pain.
When her episode came to an end, the goddess collapsed into the stranger’s arm, her demeanor no longer brash or rebellious but fragile and meek. Tears caressed her face, and her breathing became shallow as the memories of her mother's assault placated her mind. More sobs came as the damaged goddess embraced the man in rags, grateful for His presence but too distraught to move or speak.
Once her crying had died down, Cyprus turned her attention back to the image of her mother, only to be met with the image of a lifeless goddess – broken, defiled, and devoid of will with the mark of Styx seared onto her back. Standing over the being that was once Venus was Mars, victorious at having conquered a once beautiful creature. The man in rags seemed immune to such barbaric act, but Cyprus was inflicted with a new sensation. Vengeance that could rival Discordia, herself, and rage that could set the mighty Titans ablaze – it pulsed through her divine being, crawling toward freedom so that it may consume the god responsible for causing such heartache. If it wasn’t for the ragged man’s soothing touch, Cyprus would more than likely have acted impulsively.
With her wrath repressed for the time being, the man in rags beckoned for Cyprus to look in Mars’ general direction. Begrudgingly, the forging goddess did as she was told and noticed a black marking on the war god’s left heel. Upon first glance, it looked like an average scar, but closer inspection revealed something more sinister. Though she did not specialize in curses, she sensed a concentrated sum of malice oozing from the mark. A solemn headshake from the man in rags made Cyprus realize that Mars was responsible for Venus’s mental decline!
Pushing past the emotions boiling inside her, Cyprus began to process what she learned regarding Mars’s devilish enchantment and how the man in rags knew of such technique. Though there were more questions Cyprus wanted to ask, she knew now was not the time to ask them. All that mattered to the young smith was gathering more evidence to use against her uncle and make him pay for his transgressions against her family. Though there was little she could do at the moment, Cyprus would not be deterred as she vowed to avenge her mother for every tear shed in trying to protect her from Jove’s despicable offspring.