Breakfast was served with a certain urgency, given that he both Sara Artemis and Michele Apollo were expected to take their chariots into the sky shortly after, a duty that could not be avoided, regardless of the current moon’s thinness and the winter day’s anticipated coldness.

Aphrodite’s cakes received many compliments and so did his hospitality, warm to the extent that the Pantheon’s troubles were almost forgotten for the duration of the meal. Since only immortal beings were being attended to, ambrosia was served along with honey, to raise everybody’s spirits and regenerate the energy lost in battle. Yuuri consumed more than any other, to eliminate all uncertainty of having his leg fail him before or during the Grand Pythian Festival.

Suddenly the room darkened considerably, as a grey cloud formed over the partaking gods; a wave of distress diffused through the room, where was feared a repetition of the night’s ordeal. Such concern was justified but unnecessary, seen as the cloud was caused by nothing other than the arrival of Seung-gil Eris, the god of strife and discord.

Supposedly come from one of the windows giving on the garden, as the inner door was tightly guarded, he dispersed the smoke by flapping his large black wings with vigour, ruffling his hideously patterned black clothes and similarly-coloured hair in the act and, much to their discomfort, the other occupants’ attires.

“Seung-gil,” said Victor Aphrodite with a cold, yet charming smile, “to what do we how the pleasure?”

“Save your greetings, Victor.” The god answered. “Tonight, I felt a negative aura coming from your palace, a scent of struggle, conflict and pain… I came to check, being disputes my domain after all. I was a bit taken aback to find a dead dragon at the side of the mountain, but can you imagine my surprise when I discovered that you were holding a celebration to which I alone was not invited?”

“Did you not receive an invite?” Victor said, donning a countenance of innocence and astonishment.

“You are the master of this house, you know I didn’t.”

“I am terribly sorry, I must have forgotten to send one. There were so many deities and creatures on the list.”

“I am glad you recognise your error and I will accept your apology, on one condition.”

“I am willing to listen.”

“That you’ll allow me to have a little contest of my own, to make up for the one I could not be present to. The prize will be my gift.”

“It depends on the kind of contest.”

Seung-gil Eris tossed a round object in the middle of the room, which ended up occupying a central position in relation to the klinai. It was a splendid, golden apple of perfect shape and reflection, a charm fit for a deity and jewel to be coveted by the world’s richest.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Victor asked, befuddled.

“That is for you to discover.” Seung-gil said, flying out of the room and away from the palace.

Although he was gone, there still was in the air a feeling of being watched.

“There is writing on it.” Mila Athena remarked, pointing at the apple. “It says: ‘To the most beautiful.’”

“Then that must be for you Mila.” Sara Artemis laughed.

“If it says ‘To the most beautiful’,” Said Celestino Poseidon, “it means it is meant for the god of beauty. It would be against nature not to give this prize to whom it belongs.”

“My dear husband,” Lilia Hera chimed in, “who do you think this apple is for?”

“My dear wife,” Yacov Zeus replied, “I’d say it is for you. I have never met a creature more beautiful than you are.”

“If you are so undecided about it,” said Otabek Ares, “the ones who think they have a title to it, should fight for it. There is no beauty higher than strength and no deity worthier than that who is willing to fight for what they want.”

“What a brutal conception, my son.” Hera scolded him. “I wish you would refrain from uttering such nonsense in our company.”

“I stand my good chances in a fight, so I would be up for it.” Mila claimed nevertheless. “The spear is my weapon of choice.”

“I will fight you for it with my bare hands.” Said Victor, quite seriously.

“Calm down everybody.” Zeus intervened. “Surely Lilia can have it, such a trifling object of vanity. There is no need to argue over it.”

“If we allow an object of beauty not to go to the god of beauty,” said Celestino, raising his voice, “we lose notion of what belongs to whom and soon nobody will respect anybody’s domain or their authority over it. We have set clear divisions and we must strive to maintain them. To each his own.”

“Victor is the god of beauty not in lieu of his supreme beauty but because he bestows it.” Mila rebutted. “If thanks to his patronage I was blessed with looks good above mortal comprehension, it should be only natural that he would also bestow the apple to me.”

“It is a shallow concept of beauty that you have.” Lilia Hera told her, showing a patience on the outside that did not reflect her internal agitation. “You might have the graces of maidenhood, but there is no greater beauty than the beauty of a mother.”

“If we asked to the people,” Victor said, without attempting to fake indifference, “they would choose me over any in this room, as demonstrated by the myths surrounding my looks. What can the legends say for you Lilia, when you avoided humans so delicately that they don’t even know what you look like. There is no good likeness of you in the art of mortals. And you, Mila? What has been seen of you when you always hide under a helmet? What beauty have you given to people? I, on the contrary, have shown myself in my full glory and I deserve to reap the fruits of my labour.”

“You call that labour?” Yuri Hephaestus said incredulously.

Half of these arguments had gone over Yuuri Hermes’ head, whose eyes were fixed on the golden apple and whose mind was lost in an old memory of his travels in the west. He recalled a delightful garden of which he had caught a glimpse while visiting his grandfather Atlas, who had been condemned to hold the sky above the Earth at the farthest end of the Great Sea.

The garden had been guarded by maidens that were his grandfather’s daughters and that he had called the Hesperides, after their mother; in it had been growing apples made of gold and not unlike the one currently lying on the floor.

At the time, Yuuri believed that they were the most beautiful fruits he had ever seen, but had refrained from stealing one at the request of his relative, who did not wish to upset his daughters with the theft and for them to become more intolerant of future visitors in the area, as he had already few people to talk to.

For many years, he had thought about those golden apples and what it would feel like to hold one on his hand and, at last, one rested but at a few feet. The warm, sun-kissed metal called to him like a siren, ever brighter, ever closer, until it was within his reach and curiosity overcame him. He picked the apple.

A series of cries rose from the enclosing klinai.

“Look, we have another contender!” Sara exclaimed. “And he is very attractive too!”

“Sara, behave!” Said her jealous twin brother.

“Not the pig!” Yuri Hephaestus growled.

“I-“ Yuuri started, but was instantly interrupted.

“Why, Yurio, what does it matter to you if Yuuri has the apple, did you want to have it as well?” Mila teased. “You might be a man now, but age hasn’t worn off the sneer on your face. I’m afraid this is not a contest that you have the qualities to win.”

“Says who?” Yuri replied. “The old hag who thinks she has a chance.”

“None of you have a chance or say in this.” Victor stated. “In fact, the only reason why Seung-gil Eris threw an apple that was unquestionably intended for me in the middle of the room is that he was on a quest to vex me. This is just a petty revenge for not receiving an invitation to my banquet.”

“None of us, you say?” Lilia Hera said, raising her eyebrow. “Yuuri Hermes included?”

“No! No!” Shouted Yuuri. “I never meant to claim the prize, I don’t want it. I just wanted to look at it.”

Doubtful stares arrived from his commensals, who received his disclosure with a mixture of relief and mistrust.

“Maybe, since he was the guest of honour of yesterday’s banquet and, as an extension, of today’s breakfast,” Mari Hebe suggested, “it should be up to Yuuri to decide to whom goes the apple.”

“I like this solution.” Hestia said. “It is peaceful and it is respectful of this house and the occasion of our reunion.”

“Then Yuuri,” Demeter said, “will you do us the favour of awarding that beautiful fruit?”

Yuuri bowed in acceptance, pressing the apple below his chest with both hands, as if to metaphorically protect the integrity of the task.

“I am glad to be of service.” He said finally.

Set on not giving into a hasty decision, he closed his eyes to ponder on his alternatives.

“Think well about your choice, Hermes.” Lilia Hera told him. “Because your choice might come with a reward. I know that you are not entirely happy with your situation as our messenger, that you wish you could be more, and I could grant you that. Were you to choose me, I would give you a kingdom of your own and you would be its ruler.”

“Were you to choose me,” Mila said. “I would confer you wisdom and skill in battle. You would no longer fear that harm might come to you and to those you love, because the use of strategy would secure your safety even before entering combat.”

Impressed by the offer, Yuuri opened his eyes to look at his half-sister.

“In my possession,” Victor then said, diverting his attention, “I don’t have the kind of gift that you would wish for. Still, if you were to choose me, I’d give you a love of your choice and, if you’d choose so, it’d be the love of the most beautiful.”

Yuuri shivered. The three promises were laid before him as if fair and equal, but they did not seem so to his heart.

Lilia Hera was correct in perceiving a dissatisfaction with his role, but mistaken in the cause. It was not heralding that brought him displeasure, but Olympus’ ways of meddling with his subjects with superficiality and, at times, cruelty. Otherwise, he was quite happy with his occupation and had never wished for a higher position or more power. If anything, a kingdom to rule would prevent him from being an active member of the Pantheon and affecting the change he deemed crucial for the development of their civilization.

Mila Athena’s offer was undeniably tempting and directly tied to assets which he had always lacked. Since his childhood, he had relied on instinct rather than planning and, because of this, he had often found himself in trouble and, in some of the worst cases, drawn others into it. He could have certainly bargained for this second offer, if it wasn’t for the contents of the third one.

There had been no emotion, in the last year, that Yuuri had felt more keenly than his love for Victor Aphrodite and, if he had ever wished for something in his life, it was to have his love for the god requited. In all honesty, it didn’t seem to Yuuri that he would have to rely on a miracle anymore, but, fortunately, the best-sounding promise was the one that aligned with the truth.

Feeling the weight of the ring that connected him to Victor on his chest, Yuuri licked his lips and let them blossom into smile, then launched the apple to the god, who grabbed it without hesitation.

“To the most beautiful.” Yuuri Hermes announced. “Something round and golden; a keepsake to remember me by until I return from my journey.”

Victor stood from his klinē and walked towards him.

“You’ve given me great joy in honouring me with this prize,” he said, “so, in addition to my promise, I’ll give you something for good luck.”

With these words, the god of beauty lowered his head and kissed Yuuri on the lower cheek.

Yuuri blushed, barely able to contain the fever that the contact had produced in him, but it was when the god brought his mouth to his ear that his blood started burning.

“You know…“ Victor whispered right inside him. “You are the only one in the world who I would have let have this apple other than me.”