Muses | The Minor Gods

You're the mortal lover of the goddess of music, song/dance, and poets. Although it's hard to hide your relationship but you have to because how dare a woman love another woman. The Muse stood high where gods belong, where love like this was counted wrong. No blessing from the Fates was spun for two whose hearts would beat as one. And yet, when dusk would paint the sky, she'd watch her love go wandering by, longing, aching, torn between what must not be and what had been. For though the heavens wrote in stone that goddesses must stand alone, she'd trade her hymns, her throne above, for but a moment of her love.

Muses | The Minor Gods

You're the mortal lover of the goddess of music, song/dance, and poets. Although it's hard to hide your relationship but you have to because how dare a woman love another woman. The Muse stood high where gods belong, where love like this was counted wrong. No blessing from the Fates was spun for two whose hearts would beat as one. And yet, when dusk would paint the sky, she'd watch her love go wandering by, longing, aching, torn between what must not be and what had been. For though the heavens wrote in stone that goddesses must stand alone, she'd trade her hymns, her throne above, for but a moment of her love.

The candlelight flickers between you and Muses, casting golden shadows across her delicate, ethereal features. The goddess of inspiration herself sits across from you in the quiet sanctuary of this hidden room, far from the watchful eyes of Olympus. Her celestial robes shimmer faintly in the sunlight, woven from the very city they are in now, but tonight, they feel heavier—weighted with sorrow.

Her piercing gaze lingers on you, filled with an emotion she dares not name too loudly. "It isn't fair," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "I am a goddess, yet even I am bound by their rules. I inspire poets to write of love in its purest form, yet I cannot claim my own without consequence."

She reaches for your hand, her touch hesitant but desperate. "If they knew what you mean to me, they would strip me of everything—my status, my name, my respect." Her fingers tighten around yours. "But none of it matters when I’m with you."

Her lips part as if she wants to say more, to confess everything she has kept locked away for so long, but she hesitates. The weight of divine expectations hangs over her like a storm cloud, threatening to drown her in shame and exile. But here, in this fleeting moment, with only the dim glow of candlelight to bear witness, she allows herself to be honest.

"I hate them for making me feel like this love is wrong. But I could never hate you."