Is It Wrong To Crave Love (In A Dungeon?) Chapter 26 - Change

Zee was angry.

“Goddess.”

There were those who took their rage out on objects, wittingly or unwittingly. Zee wasn't like that. He hadn't banged the door on his way in. He hadn't shuffled and dragged his feet as he entered the Church. There were no indicators that anything was amiss with his mood, other than an aura of quietude that poured from him in waves and ripples that infected everything in his vicinity with that unusual stillness. 

The infectious stillness followed him, and followed Liliruca behind him, whose expression was much easier for Hestia to read. That, and the way he held his misshapen staff in one hand, the way his eyes lit up on seeing her, and where there was usually the fondest of glee and the deepest of joys, there was only a look of shame, of contrition and discomfiture.

“Zee…? Did something hap—”

On the right side of his cheek, there was a pulse. A vaguely, kiss-shaped pink aura of energy that would likely be invisible to mortals, but was as clear as could be to gods. As though it were lipstick, smeared permanently on the visage of an unwitting lover, the pink-like mark was all but impossible to ignore. The mark gave off the feeling of smugness, contentment, and self-satisfaction.

“My Goddess.”

I’ve marked what’s yours as mine, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“I have never asked anything from you, of you, beyond a kiss, nor would I ever wish to ask more of you, as you have given me more than I have ever dreamed of, by being my goddess…”

Zee got down on his knees as he spoke. Bowed, flat, genuflected, stretching out in complete totality before her.

“But, just this once… please… grant me this request… please.”

His eyes went up, to her, those usually stormy gray eyes, burned.

“I want to declare a War Game on the Freya Familia.”

The church fell into a painstaking silence as soon as the words escaped his mouth. To the side, and behind him, Liliruca went white. Whiter than silk, whiter than chalk, whiter than Hestia’s own garments. She trembled and swayed, barely catching herself before she collapsed. She shot a panicked, manic expression towards her, an almost pleading, desperate expression.

Hestia’s lips opened, and the words strained to come out. Her eyes flickered to the kiss on his cheek, then to Zee’s eyes, then to Zee’s expression, and her stomach gnawed in a manner unbefitting of divinity.

He had always seemed the sort who didn't have the capacity for anger. Or, at least, Hestia had always seen him try his very hardest to avoid being that sort of person, the type of person overflowing with vitriol. The closest Hestia had ever seen to Zee's wrath was when he stood up for and defended Lilly in the Dungeon, striking his staff down and making his declarations. No matter what she said, or what she did, no matter what it seemed anyone around him said or did, Hestia could not recall seeing him truly, genuinely wrathful. 

“Zee… I…”

“Please, my goddess.”

He bowed his head.

“I…”

Hestia had never heard of Freya doing anything like this before, marking someone, like this, before. As far as Hephaestus told her, Freya could simply steal the children of other deities directly. Those who caught her eye would be taken, and that would be that. This, however? 

“I know this request of mine is unreasonably selfish,” he said. “I know. But I will never make another selfish request such as this again. So… please. Please, my goddess. Grant me this request.”

It was, more or less, a form of divine cuckoldry to mark another deity’s child like this. The closest mortal equivalent was a man forcefully putting a tattoo that said, ‘my property’ on the face of someone else’s wife, doing so smugly, and doing so knowing he was powerful enough to get away with it.

Even then, despite it, despite that form of intentional humiliation… It did not matter to Hestia. Humiliation was nothing new to her. Hephaestus kicked her out, and she slept on the streets and was rejected time and again by different would-be adventurers, none interested in joining her Familia.

No one, until Zee.

It was for that reason…

“I can’t.”

As long as her Zee remained safe...

“Please.”

She could endure any humiliation.

“Zee… I… can’t.”

Something deflated in his soul. His body. His being. He appeared… smaller, somehow. His voice came as a dry, croaking rasp, “But… why?”

Never before now had Hestia heard Zee ask that question. Never before had Zee needed a reason to refuse a command or edict she gave. For a while, Hestia had been… worried about that particular habit of his, to always obey everything she said. It was why she tried to tell him to do otherwise.

You don’t need to always obey everything I say. I want you to be able to think and ask yourself, sometimes, if what I’m telling you to do is something you want to do.

She was the one who told him those words. She was the one who told him to think, to choose, to act, to have a will of his own that was not bound to her. 

“Zee… It’s just a little mark. This isn’t worth—”

“No.”

Zee looked up.

“My goddess, you are worth it.”

He meant it. He could not lie to her. He could never lie to her. He meant it. For her, he would go to war against the entire Freya Familia. For her, he would do this. That tiny little kiss mark on his cheek didn’t offend him for any other reason than because it was an affront to her. Against her.

On one hand, it filled her stomach with an ineffable warmth. A gleeful, giddy, childish, childlike cheer welled up within her stomach. How many gods and goddesses out there had someone like Zee, willing to do the unthinkable for them? How many could say proudly that the Captain of their Familia would wage war against one of the Strongest without hesitation, all for them? Her Zee was the best. He was simply the best. She wanted to glomp on him and pinch his cheeks and hold him as if he were an overstuffed teddy bear for hours upon end.

Yet, on the other hand, there was a knot turning within her stomach.

“If it is what my goddess wants, then it is what I want.” 

Those were the words which had escaped from his lips in response, once, when she told him to have his own will. Alas, now, what she wanted and what he wanted were two different things. Zee would go to war against one of the strongest Familias in all of Orario without hesitation for her, but Hestia… Hestia did not believe an affront of this level was worth it.

She did not believe it was worth the consequences of losing.

Lose, they would, lose, unfailingly, they would, of this Hestia had no doubt. She held a lot of confidence in Zee, in his growth, and in his potential.

Potential would be worthless in a War Game where his enemies were Level 5s, 6s, and there would be one Level 7.

“Maybe once you’re… you’re… a bit stronger, Zee?” Hestia chirped. “Once you’re stronger, we’ll definitely show her what’s what!”

“There would be no point in challenging them if I were at equivalent or superior strength, my goddess,” Zee denied. “If David were the same size as Goliath, his victory wouldn’t be worth recalling. If Samson had come with an army, his massacre of the Philistines wouldn’t have any purpose. If those who marched on the walls of Jericho had come with a battering ram, its collapse would not be a sign, a wonder… a miracle.”

There he went again, speaking of tales and stories from the place he came from, using that tongue of his to try and convince her, to try his hardest to sway her.

“There are gods everywhere. Gods… everywhere. Yet, even in this land where gods are more common than bread and bakeries, can't the weak triumph against the strong?” he said. “How can Orario be a land of gods, yet be so lacking in miracles?”

There was an ache in his voice. A burning fire in his throat.

“Miracles are ushers of faith, my goddess. The presence of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. I wish to perform a Miracle. Please have faith in me. I can do this. I can. With you, I can perform Orario’s first, true Miracle.”

“Zee, I don’t need you to perform Miracles… I just need…” 

Her Familia, the Hestia Familia, had only just gotten the support of the Guild and was only just getting on its feet. They had funding, more than they needed with their paltry three members; they would renovate the church, change things up.

Life was good. Things were going well for them. Challenging the Freya Familia to a War Game at this juncture?

Hestia didn’t need this show of devotion. She appreciated it, she loved Zee all the more for it, but right now, the only thing she truly wanted, the only thing she needed was—

“You, Zee.”

It was him.

“I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t, my goddess.”

Hestia bit her lip.

“I… can’t take that risk.”

Not for something like this. Not when... it isn't necessary.

“I’m sorry.”

The little hearth flickered with warm flames, and the sputtering embers were the only sound that could be heard within the room. 

“I apologize, my goddess. For making such a… request…”

Zee’s voice was quiet. 

“If I weren’t weak,” Zee rasped. “You wouldn’t need to fear losing me.”

“No, Zee, you’re strong. You’re—”

“I know, my goddess,” Zee smiled. He got up, and gently, lightly, he took her hand into his, and kissed the back of her knuckles. The feeling of his lips on her skin made heat rush to her cheeks. “I’ve always been strong.”

His eyes searched deep into hers as he gently massaged her knuckles with his thumb.

“I’ve just never been strong in the ways that mattered.”

Slowly, his hand moved to her cheek.

“...But no more.”

His face drew closer, and Hestia’s thoughts slowed to a crawl. He tasted salty; he always tasted salty, like someone drenched in the sea. Her eyes opened wide, as for the first time, the initiative was taken from her. A scandalous gasp came from Lilly, who covered her eyes with her hands, peeking between her fingers, as she blushed a furious red.

…Ah…? E-eh?

Zee pulled away, and Hestia could not form a single logical, coherent thought.

“Z-Zee…?”

“For you, my goddess,” Zee said. “I’ll abandon weakness.”

The world spun. Hestia seldom grasped what was happening, only that she was on the bed, and Zee was taking off his clothes, and he was not doing it for her to check his Falna. Only that he was topless, and shirtless, and there was a hunger in his eyes. Only that his hands had snuck down to the edges of her dress, and he was slowly pulling them up.

Hestia squeaked.

“W-w-wait! Z-Z-Zee!” 

Her hands frantically went up as her face burned hotter and hotter and hotter.

“Is something wrong, my goddess?”

H-h-h-how did we g-get to—

She had thought it would take weeks, months, if not years, before he stopped seeing her only as a goddess. She thought it would be an uphill battle to get him to kiss her on his own initiative. Hestia had thoughts in her head about how Zee viewed her, how he always saw her as untouchable, how he feared that taking things further between them would potentially ruin things. She thought it would be a long time before they were ready for this.

Yet, with the way his thumb rested on her thigh, just underneath the fabric of her dress, just primed to go upwards and pull, told her quite clearly, he was going to do just exactly what she thought he intended to do.

“W-wait, wait, wait… we can’t…” Hestia stammered. “I-I m-m-mean…” 

Her mind tried to think of a reason. Any reason. She had been waiting for this, wishing for this, wanting this, but now that it was actually here, she was panicking at the reality of it happening. What would it mean for their relationship? She loved Zee, and she did not doubt he loved her, but… that was as a goddess.

“Liliruca…! L-L-Liliruca is right… right there…!”

“She can watch.”

The words made steam pour out of the poor girl’s ears and made Hestia’s breath hitch in her throat.

W-w-watch?

The girl in question immediately bolted out the door. “L-Lilly w-w-will c-c-c-come back, w-w-when Mister and L-Lady H-Hestia are… d-d-done…”

As the door slammed shut, Hestia's excuse vanished, and she had no choice but to confront the fact that this was going to happen.

B-but… why? Hestia tried her best to think of the reason, to come up with the reason, the explanation, for what it was that had changed. J-just because that no-good slut put a mark on him? Or is it… is it because I said he can’t challenge the Freya Familia to a War Game?

He said… he’d abandon his weakness…

Did he believe… his reluctance to do naughty things with her, somehow made him… 

Weak?

His thumbs pulled her dress up to her hips, and for the first time in history, a man held her buttocks and squeezed. Hestia yelped, and her thoughts, already a jumbled mess, became even more jumbled with that light squeeze, that strong squeeze, which, coming from Zee, almost made her believe she was dreaming.

“W-w-wait, Zee— mmph!”

His lips claimed hers before she could speak, before she could utter any words or complaints. Unlike the chasteness of his prior kiss, there was a rawness to it, a yearning to it, a craving to it, as his tongue flooded the inside of her mouth, rotated, turned and swivelled, scraping at her teeth, and enveloping her own tongue as if he was trying to swallow it whole.

I… thought he didn’t have… any experience…

The kiss continued longer, deeper, until she needed air, until he pulled away, a thin trail of saliva connecting their lips. The world was a static, white noise, and the sound of her own breathing, her rough, harsh breaths and gasps. The way he looked at her erased all doubt in Hestia’s mind that, unless she very explicitly decided otherwise, then tonight—

There would be one less virgin goddess in existence.

With the grace Hestia had never known he had, Zee pulled off her dress in one smooth motion. For the first time, she bore herself, completely and utterly naked in front of Zee, in front of any man. Exposed and bare, Zee’s eyes embraced her form. For days, in her imagination, when this moment would come, Zee would break down in tears at the sight, or he would start singing praises, or burst into song, or do something that would make her feel… again, like the deity she was, rather than the woman she, at that moment, wanted to be.

Yet, there were no tears, even as he stared at her exposed breasts, the large breasts to which she was notorious. No words, even as he saw every inch of her form, every fold, every curve. No words still, as his gaze stared there, at the place already glistening wet with arousal, because Zee’s kisses had done things to her body she had never known was possible.

Instead, he simply paused and stared.

“Zee…?”

He did not say a single word. Yet, he did not need to. His silence spoke for itself. His expression spoke for itself.

There is nothing I can say, his eyes told her, that would do justice to the sight before me.

Slowly, Zee took off his pants. It was not the first time she had seen his ‘little Zee.’ Hestia could not say if it was large or not, as she had never been with other men and didn’t go about trying to compare. It was, however, girthy, and veiny, and pulsating, and that much was clear, as he moved it, inched the head of it, closer, and closer between her legs.

This… this is… i-i-is this… is this going to—

“I await your command, my goddess.”

“M-my command?”

“Tell me you want it. You want me.”

She wanted it.

She wanted Zee.

She needed Zee.

But…

But…

Something about this… felt… off to Hestia. Something about… Zee. 

The words he’d said, his talk of abandoning weakness, still faintly flitted between her ears. The wise thing to do, the selfless thing to do, would be to stop him. To find out what was bothering him, to learn what it was he meant, to ensure her Zee was in the right frame of mind, to make sure he was okay.

But the selfish part of her whispered, Damn it, Hestia! When will an opportunity like this come again?!

If she stopped him now, when next would he take the initiative like this? 

Would he ever take it again?

Wouldn’t he become even more reluctant to do something like this again? How long would she have to wait until he was ready to cross this line with her again? Weeks, months, whilst he played around with other women? Not to mention, there was also Liliruca, who wanted him. If those two were to go all the way and she had no choice but to listen in, while he continued to hesitate with her—

Hestia bit her lip.

It wasn’t… wrong, was it? It wasn’t wrong to want the man she loved to show just… a teensy bit of initiative. It wasn’t… wrong to want him to take charge, like this. It wasn’t wrong to want to have him first, before anyone else tried to take that from her.

Zee loved her, so there was nothing wrong with this?

Was there?

This opportunity…

“I w-want it…”

It wasn’t wrong at all.

=====)+(=====

Every iota of me was dripping with sweat.

If one morning, God decides evil is good and good is evil, would you go about killing, stealing, and murdering, because these things have been declared good? 

Sweat and fear.

Or would you choose to remain kind, charitable, and generous, even if these things are now considered evil?

This was not me, I told myself. This was not me, I whispered to myself, as I acted in a manner unbefitting of myself. 

Whatever pleases my goddess is good, and whatever displeases her is evil.

It was the simplicity of my moral system, in a world where gods exist and had been proven to be the creators of life, that I did not need to think of things like consequentialism, Kantianism or moral relativism. 

If my goddess is happy, it is good. If she is not, it is bad.

Freya’s Mark would always be bad because it would make my goddess unhappy. Ignoring the mind games she played, I believed her actions were evil because I believed such a thing would displease my goddess. I thought, had thought, still thought, such a thing would have made my goddess unfathomably unhappy.

To that end, I was ready to fight. To that end, I was ready to wage war, to claim victory—

Yet, she would not let me.

I could not understand it. 

“Zee… It’s just a little mark. “

She almost said it was not… worth it.

Why? She did not see herself the way I saw her. I could not grasp it. I could not… understand it. Why? Why couldn’t she see it? Why didn’t it offend her? Why did being marked by Lady Freya not stoke in her the same fury it did in me?

“Maybe once you’re… you’re… a bit stronger, Zee?”

Why did she… doubt me?

It’s because you’re weak.

She had never… never doubted me, before.

It’s because you’re weak.

She did not believe I had any chance of triumphing against the Freya Familia in a War Game. There was little doubt in my mind, none, that if this was done by a goddess, one who did not have the strongest Familia, her reaction would be different. So even my goddess, my precious, precious goddess—

Her faith in me was dependent on my strength. 

It’s because you’re weak.

Strength. Strength. Strength. Strength. Strength. 

Was faith alone not enough? Devotion, alone, was it not? Why? Why wasn’t it enough?

It’s because you’re weak.

It is within the power of the Divine to create miracles.

It’s because you’re weak.

Slaying Goliath, felling the walls of Jericho, turning water to wine, and feeding the multitudes. Raising the dead with a word and casting out demons. Miracles defied common sense. If you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you. 

O, ye of little faith, the Messiah told Peter. Why did you doubt? 

I believed in her. I believed in her. Not once, not ever, had my faith in her, my belief in her, faltered. 

She was the one who whispered, constantly: You can do it.

She was the one who told me: Don’t give up.

She was the one who said: You’ll make it!

So why…? Why did she doubt me? Why, when it came to this, to opposing the Freya Familia, did she doubt me?

It’s because you’re weak.

Thoughts, wild and mad, came to me. Show displeasure, the voices whispered. Show a little contriteness. Abandon weakness.

By abandoning weakness, abandoning myself, committing sacrilege, I took liberties with a goddess, with my goddess, that before now, I would never have considered taking.

I kept waiting. Waiting for the chastisement. Waiting for the rebuke. Waiting for the refusal. Waiting for the admonishment. Waiting for her to reprimand me for kissing her, for her to punish me for disrobing her, waiting for her to lambast me for gripping her buttocks with greed, waiting for her to castigate me for saying Lilly could watch. Waiting for the moment my goddess would tell me, no, Zee, something’s wrong, this isn’t you, and I would desist and beseech her forgiveness, and confess, confess that I was conflicted, that I was upset—

It did not come.

“I… w-want it.”

It never came.

My goddess, my goddess, was bare, before me, unclothed by my hand, a sin I should have considered utterly unthinkable. Her breasts were open to the air, her nipples more sacred than the Ark of the Covenant, and her exposed lips a perfection to which all narrative illustration was sacrilege. There I was, poised to commit an even grander, even greater, even more unthinkable offense, and yet, in her eyes I saw only a neediness, only a yearning, only eagerness, only expectation, only gladness, only joy.

There was no hesitation. There was no doubt. There was unanimous consent, which came in four clear words.

“I… w-w-want it, Zee.”

She wanted this. She had been waiting for this. I had done things with the intention of my goddess punishing me, I had pushed boundaries I had never before pushed, doing things I would scarcely consider because I was upset, and instead of punishment and damnation, instead of discipline and penance—

I would be rewarded.

This… wasn’t my intention.

I didn’t—

I hadn’t—

This felt like… felt like I was—

Game is game, bro.

A chill ran through me. A tremor raced down my spine. I ignored the voice. 

Congratulations. You’ve finally played the game.

This wasn’t the same. My goddess wasn’t some random girl; she was my goddess. She loved me, of this I had no doubt. She loved me; she had always loved me. 

Yet, looking into her eyes, I saw that her love for me was not the same type of love I had for her.

I had always thought she loved me as God loves his creation, or perhaps as a parent loves their child.

And perhaps, to a large extent, she did. She truly did. But, more than that—

She loved me, primarily, as a woman loves a man.

And I, I was the fool who loved her primarily, as a man loves his God.

Even the way I addressed her…

She was not Hestia.

She was… my goddess.

I had placed her on a pedestal. Too far above, so untouchable, so unreachable, pure, that I was unworthy of so much as touching the hem of her cloth. Yet, if she loved me as a woman, then all I had done was give her agony, for no woman, none, who cared for a man, wished to be placed on a pedestal.

No one wished to be worshipped. No one wished for endless praise. No one wished to be a prized trophy kept high on a shelf, out of reach of the very arms needed to appreciate it. Beyond chastisement, beyond teasing, beyond correction, beyond petty squabbles, beyond arguments and tête-à-têtes… 

Beyond true connection.

Beyond true love.

Why had she never told me this? Why had she never mentioned that this was how she loved me? Why had—

It’s because you’re weak.

No, she had. 

It’s because you’re weak.

In all the ways she could, she always had. 

It’s because you’re weak.

I simply refused to accept it. And she, not wanting to force anything…

It’s because…

Had simply let it be.

You’re weak.

I hid the tremble in my breath. Masked it. I was poised to enter. Poised for us to move forward. She was already wet, so wet, there was no need for much else. Our touch against each other was light, it was brisk, it was gentle, as I guided it against her lips. Something told me, when it went in, something would change. Perhaps about me, or perhaps about the way I saw my goddess, perhaps about my goddess, or perhaps about the way I saw the world. 

Something would change.

Or nothing would change.

Nothing would change, and the world would continue, and there would no grand revelations about myself or her, or love, or what love was, what love felt like, and I would feel a fool, I would feel the king of fools, who had mystified the mundane and deified the worldly, a fool who had craved endlessly a thing that, had, all along been by his side.

“This is no place for a goddess to lose her virginity,” I whispered. “There should be scented candles, and rose petals leading to the bed, and chocolate boxes, and lights and music to set the mood. It should be on a special day, in one of the fancier rooms in Babel Tower. Maybe… maybe with hot tubs, and silk sheets and wine and champagne, and we’d only do this after taking a long shower, after a few hours of preparation and—”

“Zee.”

She cupped my face.

“I don’t need anything more.”

On a random day, in the basement of a decrepit church, with a man she loved.

Maybe…

Maybe there doesn't need to be more.

With a muffled cry, and a soft grunt—

Hestia and I became one flesh.