Wedding Crashers

The foreigner merged into the crowd of guests strolling through the plaza outside the temple. There was a festive air at the event, as is the case when this much wine was being shared freely. People love weddings, and the Theban royal wedding was an extraordinary affair. No expense was spared: bottomless casks of wine, live music at every plaza or street corner, courtesans dressed in gowns of white, and that said nothing of the free food being served at every inn, restaurant, and food cart in the city. A celebration on this scale for many was a once-in-a-lifetime event. How often does a new Theban monarch get married? However, this was the foreigner's tenth such wedding she had personally attended, and it had long lost its ability to leave her in awe.

The foreigner was, in truth, a goddess who had dropped down to the mortal world a few weeks ago at the Freelander Temple on Mt. Olympus. She had attended a few small festivals, spent a glorious week in Ithaca, and took a boat to Delphi to speak with the Oracle. She had planned to ascend at the Temple at Delphi. However, as she was ready to depart, she had a chance encounter with her half-brother. He mentioned the wedding and pressured her to agree to remain on mortal soil for another week to attend.

The steamship she took from Delphi only took four days to reach Thebes. Still, she had elected to depart at a small fishing town and travel the remainder of the way on foot to the capital city of Amphion's Gate. She remembered the coastal stroll that she had been fond of before and hoped to recapture that moment but had found disappointment instead. What once was a beautiful winding path up the coast with small fishing retreats was now home to paved roads bustling with steam carriages. Moreover, the route's once-pristine remote beaches were now claimed by commercial fishing and shipping guilds operating out of the sprawling Amphion's Gate.

Even if her journey to the Theban capital had been as incredible as she had hoped, the goddess would still be in a less-than-stellar mood. She did not particularly care for the Kingdom of Thebes. While she admitted there was much to enjoy and faulted no one for finding it an excellent island kingdom, it was not for her.

The Theban people, like many of the nations of Elysium, practiced hero worship. In particular, the Theban cult was highly fond of Heracles - or "Hercules" as he had come to prefer the Roman styling after spending many lifetimes in the Spartan Empire. The goddess, again, did not fault Thebes for their favoring of the hero. The Thebes of Old was the original birthplace of Hercules. Still, much more recently, Hercules had been both a national hero and a monarch to the Elysian Thebes. However, the mortals of Thebes did not see the Hercules that this goddess had known. They knew his famous and legendary tales, but they had not seen the truth. How could they, though? Unlike the goddess, they had not been married to him.

"Hebe!" cried a familiar voice, breaking the goddess from her private thoughts. She blinked away her idle musings and realized she had wandered into an outdoor bar and lounge in the center of the temple's plaza. Usually, she would have strayed away from such a crowded place, but she had been so in her own head and had just let the crowd bring her here.

As she looked about for the source of the voice that had called out her name, Hebe assessed her trappings. The trappings were in place. Her disguise as a young collegiate should have fooled most mortal perception, excluding the heroic, the sensitive, and the truly devout.

She was not concerned about one mortal recognizing her and outing her to the masses. Shouting out her name alone was not cause to make mortals stir. Not only were there mortals given her name to honor her, but her name was also often shouted out by mortals as something of an expletive. As she was the goddess of mercy and forgiveness, whenever a mortal did something recognized as an immediate mistake, they would often shout "Hebe, have mercy," or even just "O, Hebe!"

There was no mistake to fault for her name being shouted in the plaza this time. She spotted the one responsible, wedged between two courtesans on a nearby bench. Dressed in the trappings of a festive celebrant, Dionysus was also incognito among the mortals.

As Hebe approached her cousin, she inspected those who shared the bench with the god. The first courtesan had a Theban look, fair skin, dark hair, and deep olive eyes; she was quite the catch. The second courtesan was the stockiest Delphian the goddess had ever seen, with tanned skin and faded brown hair dyed to match the golden sun to honor Apollo - even his beard and chest hair had been dyed for this special occasion.

Both were dressed in white and blue, similar to what the bride and groom should be wearing. At weddings, this was a common courtesan custom, offering themselves to clients as a bride or groom for the night. Hebe wondered if the courtesans had been paid or merely caught up in her cousin's splendor. If the courtesans were aware that they were fondling the divine, they did an excellent job hiding it as they were not going above and beyond as mortals tended to do in the presence of the divine.

"My dear cousin!" said Dionysus with lips soaked in wine as the male courtesan lowered the glass from the god's lips. "It does me good to see you here."

"Likewise," she said with a nod. She took a deep breath as she looked over the crowd surrounding them. "Have you seen any other of our family or friends?" she asked, doing her best to maintain the illusions they were mere mortals.

"You're the first," he said as the female courtesan offered a handful of small berries. He opened his mouth and let her squeeze them over his mouth, trickling the juice onto his tongue. Then, when the drippings had slowed, she wiped the smashed fruit down his chest and gave him a deep kiss, likely sharing the taste with him.

Hebe averted her gaze for a spell. It was not her first time witnessing such an exchange of Corinthian Lovers' Berries. She had partaken in the fruit many times herself in such a manner, but it had been some time. However, this particular technique was more obscene than she recalled.

After the courtesan slid away from the god, Dionysus slid off the bench, letting the courtesans entertain one another. The lanky red-haired god took two steps, closing the distance to his cousin. He had a sway to him as he stood near her and placed a small joint between his lips. "I heard you were on furlough..."

"I was," she said, turning to face him. She grabbed the joint from his lips and placed it between hers, drawing the kannabis into her lungs before releasing a long exhale. "Technically, I guess I still am..." she said with a smirk as she offered to return what she had taken.

"You seem concerned," said Dionysus, waving her off as she attempted to return the joint, insisting she should take her fill. "Was the vacation not successful?"

"It was wonderful," she said, taking another deep pull. "It is just this moment that leaves me wishing for something else," she confessed after blowing the smoke from the corner of her lips. "You know how I feel about Thebes."

Dionysus shook his head. "That's not it."

"It's not?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and puffing on the joint. "What is it then?"

"You don't like weddings," said her cousin with a slanted smirk and a wheezy sniff of one nostril.

"Don't I?" asked Hebe with a scoff, releasing a mouth's fill of smoke.

Dionysus nodded as he took her by the wrist and led her to a standing table. Then, with a simple gesture, he caught a server's attention and ordered two wines. As he waited, he let his hand rest on hers.

The joint was all but spent as she channeled enough essence into it to cause it to burn away into ash between her fingertips and sprinkle off into the light breeze. Then, after watching the last hints of lingering smoke fade to nothing, Hebe turned her gaze to her cousin and the hand he had rested on hers. "Fine, it's true," she felt compelled to be honest. "I may not like weddings-"

"The irony being your mother is the goddess of marriage," Dionysus said with a chuckle.

"Yes," Hebe said with a sigh. "But it's because of her that I don't..." she paused and shook her head. "No, that's only half-true. There is another reason."

"I know," Dionysus said, nodding as a Theban server placed two glasses of wine on the table and walked away. "I know," he said again as he handed Hebe a glass with his free hand before claiming the other for himself. Then, with his one hand still resting on hers, Dionysus clinked their glasses together.

Hebe smiled and slowly raised the glass to her nose. She enjoyed the scent for a while before she blinked and shot an inquiring gaze at her cousin. "Is this what I think it is?"

Dionysus nodded with a mirth-filled smirk.

"But how?" Hebe asked, taking the faintest sip to be sure. She giggled with delight once she had confirmed it. "You can't get Ithacan spiced red up here..."

"Maybe you can't," Dionysus said with a chuckle.

Hebe took another sip, this one more inquisitive and deliberate. It was then that she could taste the quickly fading residue of magic. "You used your krisimancy, didn't you?"

He chuckled and hid his smile with his glass, gulping down nearly half the glass.

"You know what?" Hebe asked as she locked eyes with him across the table. "I'm glad I made the journey here."

Dionysus lowered the glass and leaned in to speak in hushed tones. "So am I..."

## Characters

### Gods

* Hebe
* Dionysus