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It was a rare thing indeed, Arjuna mused to himself beneath the sheets. In Chaldea, the windows were always sealed, and the temperature perfectly regulated. There was no way to tell the time of day. It was neither cold nor hot, just right, an environment that felt suspended in a state of perpetual comfort. Whether it was just before dawn or well into the afternoon, he couldn’t say. But if he had to guess by instinct alone, he would have said it was around six in the morning.
The heat of two bodies still entwined beneath the sheets made the temptation to drift back into sleep all the more difficult to resist. He shifted gently and cautiously, until his eyes could catch the bedside clock. The time confirmed what his body had already told him. With a soft breath, he turned his gaze to the figure sleeping beside him. It really was rare. Absurdly so. The thought, tinged with disbelief, had visited him so many times by now that Arjuna could only laugh quietly to himself. The man asleep next to him. His father, Lord Indra. How many mornings had passed like this now since their relationship had…changed?
It wasn’t as if they were simply a doting father and son who had chosen to share a bed in warmth and peace. That would have been far too innocent. No, the other man was naked. And so was Arjuna. His body ached in several places, and in others…those he couldn’t name without shame, there lingered a strange, indescribable sensation. He was almost certain that, even today, there would be fresh marks on his body he wouldn’t dare let others see. So yes, in one sense, they had certainly “grown close” as family, but it was a kind of closeness far removed from anything that could be called proper.
Wasn’t he supposed to be the kind of man who felt no desire toward his own blood? That thought had crossed Arjuna’s mind countless times. But what had happened, had happened. There was no point in denying it. And the fact that this relationship, this deeply immoral thing, still continued even now…well, that too was undeniable. It hadn’t even started with intent. It had been some accident, a momentary lapse, a spark neither of them could have foreseen. But Arjuna had chosen to keep walking down that path. And the divine whim that allowed it to keep happening every day since belonged entirely to the man asleep beside him.
He found himself staring. When was the last time he’d seen his father’s sleeping face? It wasn’t the first time, certainly. But it was a memory buried so far back in time that it may as well have been a lifetime ago. The gentle rise and fall of the man’s chest matched the quiet rhythm of his breathing. His silver hair which so unlike Arjuna’s own, shifted slightly with each breath. Closed lids were crowned with lashes long and precise. And Arjuna knew: behind those eyes lay the same fierce gaze that once ruled the skies, bright as the lightning that tore through storm clouds.
It truly was rare. For once, his father hadn’t woken before him. Of course, in the twisted set of rules they’d established after crossing that fateful line, one of the first agreements they’d made was simple: “Don’t wake up early.” He remembered it well… that morning, the one after their first night. After a ferocious union that had left Arjuna unconscious from sheer exhaustion, he had slowly returned to waking. And the very first sight that greeted him was the face of his father, lying beside him with an arm wrapped around his shoulders, staring straight into his sleeping face.
‘Ah, when did you wake up…Indra-sama?’
His body still remembered the shameful things he had done just hours before. That he had fallen asleep after such disgrace was nearly too much to bear. Not even the word “disrespect” could cover the weight of the sin. His mind scrambled for a way to atone. A fool that he was. He, who should have known better than anyone the wrath a god could bring. And yet the thing he feared most in that moment was not divine judgment, but being cast aside. As he bit his lip until it bled, bracing for what he believed would be righteous fury, the words that fell from the god’s lips were gentle.
‘I’ve not been asleep at all…How could I sleep,’ Indra had said, ‘when I have such an adorably rare sight lying beside me? I simply watched, and before I knew it, dawn had come. There’s no need for you to look so stricken.’
‘You should sleep in at least sometimes, Dad.’
And so it had gone what sounded, from the outside, like nothing more than a stubborn quarrel between parent and child, volleying back and forth until they finally reached a compromise: “Lord Indra will get proper sleep.” and “Arjuna will not wake up early. ” A childish sort of agreement, perhaps. But it was a vow sworn with a god, and for Arjuna, that made it something terrifying. Break it, and who could say what divine punishment might befall him? And yet this god, this father, now lying sound asleep in front of him had treated their solemn oath as nothing more than another passing whim. Most mornings after their trysts, he’d simply ignored it. Which meant: if Arjuna was awake, then Indra was awake too, but only just, with some flimsy excuse like: “Ah, I only just woke myself.” That’s not even a lie. That’s sophistry, Arjuna wanted to say, the words rising to his throat but he swallowed them. What was the point? He had long since given up arguing about it. His father was a god. A single word or gesture, depending on his mood, could alter Arjuna’s fate completely. In that case, he may as well accept the god’s mercy while it lasted, and allow himself this indulgence of rest. That was the conclusion Arjuna had arrived at.
However…there was one thing that did irk him. He had heard whispers and rumors from Chaldea’s halls that their Master and other Servants had seen Lord Indra dozing off at banquets, unguarded and at ease. To think: he would let down his guard before them, and yet never once had he shown such vulnerability in front of his own son. What joy could one possibly get from watching someone sleep, anyway? That had been Arjuna’s honest thought
…until just a moment ago. Now, he wasn’t so sure he could say the same.
Reaching out slowly, carefully, he brushed aside the fringe of silver hair that had fallen across his father’s brow. Just in case it got in his eyes when he woke up, he told himself. That was all. But the silken strands glided across his fingertips with a softness he wasn’t prepared for. And when the hair fell away, exposing that noble, rarely seen face, his heart leapt. This is fun, he realized. This might actually be fun.
“…Dad?” His voice came out in a dry murmur, hoarse with sleep, and he called softly, just in case. But the god didn’t stir. Not even the slightest twitch. It seemed his father had truly fallen into a deep sleep today. Even the Vajras: his father’s ever-watchful divine attendants, were nowhere to be seen. It was the perfect chance. Slowly, Arjuna lifted himself into a half-sitting position and reached out again, letting his fingers ghost across the furrowed lines of the god’s brow.
There’s no need for you to look so grim, even now…Dad…
Lord Indra had a habit of brushing his hair back whenever he was about to get serious, an unconscious tic Arjuna had noticed and quietly resented. Because when he did it, when he stopped hiding behind his casual mask, his true form was stunning. If only he would show himself this way more often, Arjuna thought. As he is now. Smiling faintly, he traced his finger down the elegant bridge of his father’s nose, until it hovered just over the full, dusky curve of his lips. He didn’t actually touch them…only lingered there, his fingertips suspended between temptation and restraint.
Those lips had done terrible things to him last night. He remembered trying to speak, only for the god to swallow his protests whole. He remembered how every inch of his body had been uncovered, taken, made to yield. How, when he had begged “please, stop ” those lips had only drunk his tears like nectar. That long, unnatural tongue, brighter in color than any mortal’s, had toyed with him, traced every contour like it was a divine ritual. And every time that great mouth had moaned his name, it was as if all his strength had bled out with it. He wouldn’t say he hated it. But he would admit that he had a lot of feelings about it.
Now that he took a proper look, Arjuna had to admit, that no matter how close they were as blood relatives, he and his father didn’t really look alike. His mother’s features had shaped him, and even if others had remarked on some resemblance, he couldn’t agree. He recalled their Master’s awkward little laugh: “Well… I mean, you do look like father and son sometimes, kinda… ” Even so, Arjuna couldn’t see it. The elegant, statuesque face. The supple, powerful body. Everything about Lord Indra’s appearance was wrapped in divine beauty, radiant to the point of being overwhelming, even if Arjuna knew he himself was not lacking in grace. His father’s appearance hadn’t changed since his days as a living god. Because he had crafted a vessel that mirrored his old divine body, he stood out even among the extraordinary Heroic Spirits of Chaldea, his build nearly inhuman.
On a whim, Arjuna let his gaze trail toward the long arm he had been using as a pillow moments earlier. It occurred to him, of course this man would have large hands. With a thoughtless curiosity, he placed his own hand gently atop his father’s palm, recalling how he often noticed this size difference during their nights together. One joint… maybe two… His father’s palm dwarfed his own, and the sight of it made Arjuna let out a quiet, helpless laugh. He had always known Lord Indra was a great being, but seeing it made the difference feel absurd. Like a child next to an adult. No wonder he couldn’t win. He chuckled, soft and resigned.
And at the exact moment he did, the long fingers beneath his hand curled upward sliding around his own with easy strength.
“Arjuna, you shouldn’t be doing such things first thing in the morning.”
The low rasp of his father’s voice, thick with sleep, trembled in his ears. It struck like lightning, and Arjuna felt his entire spine tense. Even half-awake, Indra’s eyes carried the same piercing focus as always. Flustered, Arjuna yanked his hand back and bowed his head in apology. To touch the god’s body so freely, simply because he believed the man was asleep…that was inexcusable. Shameful even. He had acted recklessly, bordering on blasphemy. Divine punishment would be well deserved, and as the weight of that realization settled on him, he cursed his foolishness.
“F-Forgive me… Please overlook my insolence…”
“It’s fine…I’ve only just awoken myself. Raise your head.”
The voice that followed, still colored with the haze of sleep, was not angry. Arjuna exhaled in relief, his shoulders sagging slightly. Thank the heavens. It seemed the god was in a good mood today. Hopefully, that would continue. Indra ran a hand through the back of his head, tousling his silver hair, and gave Arjuna a glance.
“What time is it?”
Arjuna turned to check the clock and answered promptly. With a deep sigh, Indra collapsed back onto the bed, and Arjuna flinched.
“There’s no need to be awake so early,” Indra muttered. “Did I not tell you before to indulge in sloth like the rest of us?”
“This is not early rising,” Arjuna replied, voice stiff. “This is my regular waking time.”
“…What’s on your schedule today?”
“Nothing in particular. I was told you were also resting today, Lord Indra.” Arjuna said. The Vajras mentioned last night that Indra had no scheduled rayshift missions, though Arjuna could never be certain of private plans. “I’ve been granted a day off. I planned to relax in my room after breakfast…and if the simulator room is free this afternoon, perhaps spar with someone, if I find a suitable opponent.”
It wasn’t clear whether Indra already knew his son’s plans or simply didn’t care. Either way, he let the matter pass. With a heavy motion, he allowed his towering frame to sink back into the bed, then, with a voice tinged in amusement, repeated:
“Arjuna.” That tone…Arjuna froze. His father’s mood had seemed pleasant all morning, and that should have been reassuring. But now…something in his instincts whispered danger. A premonition carved from countless battles and hard-won experience. Then came the second call, almost teasing, “So? Are you not going to finish what you started?”
Arjuna blinked. “…what?”
A beat.
“Earlier,” the god clarified, lips curling faintly. “Are you not going to continue…your little game?”
A flush of heat surged up Arjuna’s neck and cheeks, and he could feel the sweat breaking out across his skin. His flustered reaction only made the god in front of him chuckle, deep in his throat. How was he supposed to answer such a question? He fumbled for a response, but nothing he came up with would satisfy either himself or the god who stood before him. His ears burned with the heat of sheer embarrassment.
“J-Just a moment of weakness, that’s all,” he stammered. “You were actually asleep for once, Dad, so I thought…”
“Oh? So it was my fault? I don’t hate that.”
“If you were awake, you could have said something.”
“I did say I’d just woken up, did I not?”
Whether that was true or not, Arjuna had his doubts. His suspicious gaze clearly registered, and Lord Indra, caught in the act, deflected with a light. Arjuna could no longer even muster a proper rebuttal. All he could do was snap out a flustered, “Excuse me!” before scrambling out of the bed. If he stayed any longer, his pace would be thrown off completely, and he’d end up spending yet another lazy day indulging at his father’s side. But even that escape was thwarted, his clothes, which he was certain had been tossed carelessly under the bed the night before, were now neatly folded and laid out on the side table. That alone sent his already scattered thoughts further into disarray. He knew it was Vajra’s doing. But knowing that didn’t ease the sting. The sheer openness of his dynamic with his father grated against Arjuna’s pride.
Being pampered like this from morning on. His father gazing at his slip-ups with such naked fondness. And worst of all, knowing he didn’t mind it. Everything about it unsettled him.
“…Ah!”
As he berated himself for his own pathetic reaction and reached for his clothes, a sudden, indescribable sensation ran through him, making his spine tremble with a cold shiver. The feeling of something slipping from his ass made his skin prickle. Familiar…yet something he could never grow used to. When he looked down at the pristine, spotless tiles beneath him, he saw it: drops of white, milky fluid spilling from his core, leaving faint, unmistakable traces of the previous night’s intimacy. At the sight of it, his body reacted before his mind could stop it, heat sparking once more as memory and instinct stirred.
This isn’t right. Normally, by now—
“…Shit. So I didn’t convert all of it into mana after all.”
Hearing Arjuna’s voice, Lord Indra rose leisurely from the bed and stepped in front of him, blocking his path. His icy blue eyes dropped to the pale streak trailing down Arjuna’s dusky thigh, a line of cum still trickling down. What the god released inside him was meant to be absorbed within Arjuna’s body, transformed into mana. Most days, no matter how much of Indra’s thick cum flooded his body, it would be gone by morning, quietly absorbed without a trace. But today, for some reason, it hadn’t fully dissolved. A stubborn remnant clung inside him, now slipping free and trailing down his skin before falling with a soft plip onto the immaculate floor
“You begged so sweetly last night I might’ve given you a little too much,” came the god’s amused voice. A broad palm brushed against Arjuna’s lower belly. Memories from the night before surged to the surface, and a swirl of shame, frustration, and something far more complicated made Arjuna’s lips tremble. The tall god leaned down to whisper beside his ear, voice rich with delight, “Arjuna, you really are the most adorable thing, aren’t you?”
~
"Ah, ah..., Dad, stop~!"
Loud moans echoed through the quiet room as two long, unrelenting fingers plunged deep into Arjuna’s trembling entrance. They moved with cruel precision, mapping out every contour, every weakness until they brushed that one devastatingly sweet spot. His breath hitched. His spine arched. Nails scraped helplessly against the surface of the table he clung to, his composure unraveling with every calculated thrust. Indra, of course, had already spoken his divine decree: “I will not stop until I get satisfied.” Arjuna’s protests had meant nothing. They never did, not when the god’s will was already set in stone. Now, all he could do was endure. Enfolded from behind in a possessive embrace, he was left utterly at Indra’s mercy. His body manipulated, his hole shamelessly toyed with, as though it were sacred ground the god alone had the right to trespass. And perhaps, in the twisted intimacy of gods and sons, it was.
Arjuna’s cum, thick and glistening, had already pooled on the floor, spilled and still warm. In the haze of overstimulation, Arjuna's feet shifted in retreat, only to crush it under his sole with a wet squish. But even that humiliating sensation was nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure blooming under his father's fingertips. Every deft movement of those divine fingers rewrote the thoughts in his head, painting over shame with want. Then, he could feel it. His father’s erection. That thing that fucked him to oblivion the night before, until he broke. The same thing that, shamefully, he had begged his father to give.
This is bad. That thought rang loud, a lone voice trying to cut through the boiling fog of heat and pressure. If he breaks again, if he loses it now, he won't come back. He won't be Arjuna anymore. His gaze fell, and he caught sight of the thin string of his own release dribbling down onto the floor, glistening between his legs. A sob almost tore free.
"Arjuna."
His father’s voice, usually so steeped in majesty and commanding presence, now curled sweet and low against Arjuna’s eardrums, a velvet murmur that made his spine shiver and his knees nearly give out.
He knows. Of course Indra does. That’s the worst part. This father, this god, knew exactly what he was doing. He knew Arjuna’s self-control was fraying at the seams, that his restraint was a dam about to burst. And still, he whispered his name in that voice…rich and slow, like honey reduced to a thick, dark syrup. A sound laced with false gentleness, like a parent soothing a restless child, yet every syllable sent a tremor down Arjuna’s back. Indra knew. He knew how devastatingly sweet it was to Arjuna, hearing his own name spoken that way. He knew that the cadence, the warmth, the cruel tenderness of it. All of it cornered his son, pressed him further and further into helpless submission. And still he did it. He said things like “I don’t make a habit of tormenting my son,” as though this wasn’t exactly that. As though this wasn’t a calculated, ritualistic undoing.
"P-Please... be gentle...Dad~"
"If you'd just be as honest as you were last night, none of this would be necessary."
Arjuna let out a choked breath as his father's cock ground against the entrance of his body, thick and hot, threatening to slip inside. Just the sensation, just remembering how it had felt to be filled last night, made his breath hitch and a tremor run down his spine. A needy, stifled gasp escaped him. Slick with the remnants of the night before, his entrance offered little resistance as Indra’s length slid back and forth, not entering, only teasing. Each slow drag stoked the ache growing low in his belly, and each time it almost pressed in with a wet plop, his body trembled in anticipation. Would it be all right to give in now? That shameful hope bloomed at the edge of his feverish mind, drowning in heat and want.
"..Indra-sama~"
Arjuna reached a trembling hand behind him because he couldn’t bring himself to look. Not when he was already exposing himself in such a shameful state, and knowing what was still to come only made his head throb with helpless dread. His fingers finally met his father’s body, brushing against warm, sweat-slicked skin. He clung to it instinctively, fingers trailing over the divine flesh as if to plead for mercy through touch alone. But the moment he felt the heat of that sacred body, he knew. He wouldn’t be able to hold himself back anymore.
“Have mercy, please…!”
The voice that spilled from his lips was so heavy with lust, he could hardly believe it was his own, and somewhere, buried beneath the heat and haze, a single anxious thought pulsed: Would his Father be disappointed in him for this?
But then…that overwhelming heat, that weapon-like length, plunged into him without mercy, tearing him open with its sheer force. His muscles tensed instinctively at the sudden pressure. Normally, it would have been slow and gentle. But this time, his father slammed into him all at once, burying his cock deep. The shock of it stole the breath from his lungs, and then came the pleasure ripping through him from head to toe like lightning.
The slap of skin against skin echoed through the room. The pleasure that ripped through him wasn’t just intense, it was way more than he’d ever braced for. It hit like a jolt of lightning setting every nerve on fire, making his whole body shake. The wet, filthy sounds were so loud they drowned everything else out…so loud, he almost wanted to cover his ears. The fact that he was the one making those sounds. That they were being dragged out of him, it was almost too much to take. It burned behind his eyes, threatening tears. Arjuna was bent over the table, his hips locked in place by a pair of unrelenting hands. And then it hit. One deep, punishing thrust that knocked the breath out of him. A broken sound cracked from his throat, stuck somewhere between a moan and a cry. His feet dangled helplessly in the air, shook by the sheer force of his father fucking him, swinging limply as his hips were held tightly.
The fragile grip he had on himself was unraveling fast shredded by the relentless waves of pleasure crashing through him. He was being used like a toy, handled without mercy, every hard thrust pushing him closer to the edge. He could feel his breaking point was right there, just out of reach. And when he glanced back, eyes glossy with tears and heat, he caught a glimpse of that familiar, beloved figure through the blur.
“Dad…I—I can’t… anymore!”
That Lord Indra, king of the gods and his own father, would look at him like that—Arjuna could hardly believe it. The heat of those hands clutching his hips, the sweat sliding down that sharp, regal face… everything about Indra only pushed him further, fanning the flames of his desire past the point of reason. God, he needed his father’s mercy. He wanted mercy from the one he loved. He wanted to love that god completely. To surrender everything to him.
“I’ve long since given you mercy… haven’t I?”
No. That’s not it, Dad… That’s not what I meant… Arjuna whimpered the plea without understanding it himself. The words spilled from his lips without shape or sense, he no longer knew what he was asking for.
More. He just wanted more . He didn’t want it to end like this. He wanted to burn this moment into his eyes. He wanted to reach out and touch that stern, majestic face…to feel the heat in those flushed cheeks…to press his fingers to those firm, divine lips. More . He needed more of that mercy.
“N-No…not like this, I don’t like this position…! Please, let me down…!”
The heat buried deep inside him was pulled out all at once. Before Arjuna could even process the emptiness, a strong hand grabbed his arm, and in the blink of an eye, he was flipped over like he weighed nothing.
Now he was face to face with Lord Indra. Those eyes sharp, gleaming, hungry locked onto him like a predator sizing up prey. Arjuna nearly buckled under the intensity. Just being seen like this, flushed and overwhelmed, with his body still burning, it was almost enough to send him over the edge all over again.
With a gesture as casual as wiping sweat from his brow, Indra ran a hand through his hair and hoisted Arjuna into his arms and then, still suspended in the air, he thrust into him again, deep and unrelenting. The impact stole the breath right out of Arjuna’s lungs. His vision blurred, the dizzying sensation of being held aloft barely keeping pace with the brutal waves of pleasure tearing through him. Somewhere, deep in the fog of his mind, he registered the fingers digging into the backs of his knees. That’s gonna leave bruises, a faint, far-off voice in his head whispered. To keep from falling, he wrapped his legs tightly around his father’s solid waist, clinging with all his strength. He reached up and threw his arms around the god before him, but Indra showed no sign of stopping. He only laughed, terribly amused.
“I wouldn’t dare let you fall, Arjuna.”
As Arjuna clung to him, arms looped tightly around his neck, Indra’s thick lips found his. The god’s tongue forced its way in, curling around his own and stealing the breath from his lungs.
Ah…this. As his mind began to float from lack of air, clarity bloomed. This is what Arjuna wanted.
He reached up, arms trembling, and pulled his father’s head closer, cradling it against him. For a brief moment, seeing that startled expression on his father’s face made Indra look almost human. The thought tickled something deep in Arjuna’s chest. Before the thread of saliva between them could break, he kissed him again desperately. At last, Arjuna felt fulfilled.
It wasn’t enough to be given to. He wanted to give in return.
“Ahh, I love you, Dad~”
Squelch, squelch, squelch—each movement bounced Arjuna up and down, his own weight helping to drive Indra’s cock even deeper inside him. Every thrust hit the very end of his inner walls with a hard, jarring thud, followed by the slick sounds of his hole being pried open again and again. Then, a white-hot jolt ripped through him, like every nerve had just caught fire and shot straight up his spine.
His vision flickered, light sparking at the edges, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world had melted away. And there…his father, flushed and breathless, skin glistening with sweat, still holding onto him like he couldn’t bear to let go, Arjuna saw him. And in that instant, every last ache of longing inside him finally went quiet. A breathless smile curved his lips. Even as the aftershocks left his body trembling, he felt it again. His father's cum spilling deep inside him. It was thick, hot, unmistakably heavy, and he could feel every slow, pulsing wave of it as it filled him to the brim. The warmth spread through him like molten honey, clinging to his insides, seeping into every trembling inch. It was too much, too intimate, so overwhelming it left his mind blank with bliss.
Instinctively, he reached for Indra, drawing him close. His arms wrapped around the god's sweat-slicked body, clinging to the weight and heat of him. And when their eyes met…when Arjuna saw that soft, hazy look on his father's face, so vulnerable and unguarded, it made his breath hitch. It was too tender and too beautiful.
Pouring every drop of affection into his voice, he called his name, “Indra-sama~” Then he pressed a kiss to his lips. And that beloved god, in turn, kissed his son back with the same love and the same warmth, as if the entire world had narrowed down to this eternal moment.
~
“Arjuna.”
In the stillness, so silent it rang in his ears, only his voice dared to stir the air. Not even the ticking of the clock broke the hush. And yet, even steeped in desire as it was, his voice remained soft. Gentle enough not to wake the beloved child resting in his lap.
“…Arjuna.”
After every intense sex, it was always the same. He would cleanse his son’s sweaty body, now slack with sleep, and gather him gently into his lap. Arjuna, nestled against him, breathing in faint, innocent sighs, looked no different than a slumbering child. Even now. Even after that. A bitter smile tugged at Indra’s lips. What is he even doing, he thought, turning such lust on his child who looks like this. The shirt he’d dressed him in, which was his own, was too large on that smaller frame, and from beneath its open collar peeked bronze skin, marked with love bites. All of them his doing. Were another to see, they might condemn it. But when weighed against the god’s possessiveness, his hunger for control, these marks were a mere whisper of obsession.
“Ah… Arjuna… my beloved son…”
Cradling him so as not to wake him, Indra shifted his son’s weight slightly in his arms. One slender hand had slipped to the side, limp and exposed. He took it gently. Arjuna’s fingers were long and graceful, the nails neat and well-kept. Calloused slightly at the tips from drawing a bow. Even those small imperfections stirred affection in his chest. And knowing how easily that hand fit within his own…how easily he could envelop it, made it feel all the more precious. Lifting it reverently, Indra pressed a kiss to the back of that hand and murmured a blessing:
“Be well, my love.”
He couldn’t help a wry chuckle. He’d done this every time they shared a bed, and with each time, it had become second nature. With a fond gaze, he looked down at the sleeping face resting against his chest. Brushing aside the slightly curled fringe, he revealed a face at peace. The sight filled Indra with quiet relief. He knew what lay behind those closed lids: eyes darker than obsidian, unmatched in all the realms. Eyes that, whenever they looked at him, shone with wonder, longing, joy, grief, confusion, tenderness, and desire. Bending down, he kissed the damp cheek softly, reverently, and whispered a second blessing:
“May you always be fulfilled.”
He leaned in and gave one last blessing, brushing it onto those soft, parted lips.
“Be happy.”
He meant every word. Every single blessing he had whispered tonight came from the deepest corners of his heart. But even so, he knew that the boy sleeping peacefully in his arms had no need of them. He had seen it for himself. This life Arjuna led in Chaldea was full, joyful, and bright. His divine eyes weren’t so dull that he couldn’t tell that much. No. These blessings weren’t necessary. They were simply things a god gave to a human…things a father gave to his child. Nothing more than a selfish comfort. A divine indulgence. And gods, after all, were creatures of indulgence.
Yes. That’s what he told himself gods were. Detached, immutable. Capable of love, but not ruled by it. But when he recalled the way Arjuna had looked up at him, breathless, voice trembling and tender…That makeshift human heart of his ached. His artificial body made only to resemble a mortal form burned strangely warm.
Dad.
Every time Arjuna called him that…Every time those lovely eyes turned to him, filled with reverence, trust, love… something inside him faltered.
It left the king of gods flustered in ways he couldn’t stand.