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“Fate cannot be stopped.” Jongdae told Jongin when they were out of earshot.

“No matter how hard Junmyeon tries to convince himself he can stop it.” He told the tall youngster. Jongin looked down at the god of thunder with wide eyes, surprised that he would go against Junmyeon.

“We are all subject to fate. Even gods.” He told him, his darkened eyes meeting with Jongin’s wide and innocent ones.

The Fates waited for them out in the pavilion, surrounded by tall marble columns, their cradle, suspended in the heavens, surrounded by the clear azure sky.

Jongin looked at the tree women, holding red thread between them, and a shudder went down his spine as Jongdae’s words echoed in his mind.

Fate cannot be stopped.

 -------

Yixing had been the god of the sun and healing for a long time now,

Eons, in fact.

Throughout the centuries, he had spent every morning banishing the darkness, and bringing the sun across the sky.

He had looked down onto the Earth, moody and unforgiving, and he had looked down at the mortals that had called his creed godly.

Looking down on the mortal humans, he had seen their beauty, and he had seen the affections they give so readily, loving even the little creatures, even the unseemly ones.

He fell in love too. Sometimes that love turned tragic. Sometimes it was unrequited. Sometimes, being a God, and being prone to anger and vengeance, like the rest of his creed, he lashed out; brought misfortune and death upon his mortal lovers.

Being the God of both Healing and Plague could be straining, being the God of Truth and the Arts, being the God of Oracles, all at once, left him tired. Sometimes it left him lonely.

Now, after eons of keeping away, letting human nature take its course uninterrupted, he was ready.

This time, however, he had vowed to himself that he would love dearly, wholeheartedly. He would put his anger away for the next mortal lover.

Loneliness had left him searching, starving for affection, starving for love.

He had come down to Earth, modern, busy, to the Earth that never seemed to sleep, never seemed to rest, did not worship him like their ancestors did in antiquity.

He had come down to Earth through the rays of sunlight streaming down from the blue of the heavens. You could have sworn the sun became his crown, and that it had dripped off his skin, thick and golden like honey.

Among the sleek steel and glass building, Yixing looked like he belonged. In perfectly fitting clothes, oozing the confidence of a god, many would mistake him for a business man, maybe even a CEO. He looked powerful. He looked godly.

So much unlike her.

Unbeknownst to him, the Fates were watching, tying knots in the red string of his life, bidding their time.

Unbeknownst to Junmyeon, Jongdae was watching too. Unlike the Fates, he was watching the girl. She had grown up into a beautiful woman. She was young and pretty, but most importantly, and fortunately for his brother, she had grown up to become a poet. Something Yixing would be able to appreciate.

He waited patiently for the day Yixing would return to their home, holding her in his heart, and Junmyeon would have to accept her. Just like he had to accept his wife.

Gods were slow to learn, he though, watching with a sense of nostalgia Idalia as she rushed across the busy street, only to pass Yixing by as they made their way in opposite directions.

-------- 

It was a sunny afternoon. Warm and balmy in the middle of summer, when the two met.

For the last few weeks on Earth, he had found himself basking in the golden sun in the wild meadows that broke through the industrial buildings of the city. Glass and steel and concrete giving way to brilliant greens of wild grass and wild flowers.

Today was no different, and yet Yixing felt a new lightness in his bones, and an anticipation curling at the pit of his stomach. He was the god of oracles, and he was sure that what he was feeling was a premonition of some sort.

He lay in the meadow, eyes closed as he breathed in the sweet fragrance of grass and flowers that floated in the warm air.

“Excuse me sir,” A soft voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he opened his eyes. Leaving above him was a young woman, her brows furrowed in concern as she looked down at him, lying down alone so far away from the busy city.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, and Yixing caught her gaze, his dark eyes boring into her own.

“Everything is more than okay.” He told her, sincerity lacing his words. She looked like she belonged among the sunshine, her skin was sun-kissed and glowing, and her hair was soft and silky, reflecting light like the water surface reflected the sun. 

She pursed her lips together, and Yixing stood up, smiling at her, with wide, awe filled eyes.  

Walking through the meadow’s now that all the flowers were blooming had become Ida’s new hobby. It was relaxing, breathing in the balmy air, thick and fragrant from all the herbs and flowers that grew wild and uninterrupted here. She enjoyed basking in the sun, writing away in her notebook as the rays warmed her.

Finding a stranger asleep in her usual spot was not part of the routine.

He was beautiful. His skin was golden, his hair black like the earth. His plump lips formed a smile when he saw her, leaning above him, and her heart skipped a beat when his gaze caught hers.

“What is a young woman doing here all alone?” He asked, his melodic voice rang through the air.

“Working.” She replied.

“I’m a poet.” She clarified when his inquisitive eyes fell on her.

“Have I heard of you, by any chance?” He asked, walking closer. He moved gracefully, like dancer, stepping lightly on the ground.

“I doubt that.” She answered, shifting, surveying his every move, getting ready to flee. She was alone here, after all, alone and far from the streets of the city.

“You never know.” Yixing prodded, a playful smile on his lips.

“I wrote Written in the Twilight.” Ida told him, expecting another inquisitive look as he pondered over the unfamiliar title. She was far from famous, but she was recognisable, even if only because her name seemed familiar.

“I sit in the colourful twilight,

Suspended between night and day,

bidding goodbye to the sun,

as if I am bidding goodbye to an old lover.”

Yixing recited, gazing far into the distance, eyes scanning the all too familiar orange glow of golden hour just before the sun started to set. The flowers swayed lightly in the breeze, surrounded by the tall grasses, and the sky was a brilliant shade of azure blue.

“How did you know?” Ida asked, and Yixing looked back down at her, his eyes kind, looking down at her like at a child, making her wonder just how old he was. He looked young, but the aura that surrounded him seemed older. He gazed at her with a knowing look in his eyes, as if he knew something she didn’t.

“I am a poetry professor.” Yixing took the opportunity to stand closer to her. It wasn’t quite a lie. He was sure he was more knowledgeable then the mortals, with their short lifetimes and language barriers. He had been here at the dawn of time after all. he was the one who gave humans poetry. A gift to his first lover. 

Ida looked back at the stranger. He wasn’t the tallest, but his earthy brow eyes were gazing softly at her, glistening a soft honey colour when the sun reflected off of them. He was smiling at her, and Ida had returned his smile with a soft one of her own, as if under a spell. 

Being the god of poetry and the sun, he had read that poem, right as she was writing it, here in the meadow, gazing at the sun. Little did she know that the sun had been gazing right back at her. Yixing gave her a bright smile, his dimples poking through his cheeks. 

He extended his hand to shake hers.

“I’m Yixing.”

“Ida.” She told him, and he smiled, because he already knew.

--------- 

Yixing liked her. From the moment he lay his eyes on the young woman. Ida looked like one of his ancient lovers. But she also didn’t. Maybe that is why he fell in love with her. Yixing was lonely, and she had brought out long forgotten nostalgia, and old promises he had been stalling to keep. And somewhere along with them, she brought along excitement and a new kind of anticipation.

Being the god of oracles had its benefits. He could simply will their paths to cross, and they would. And they did. 

He came to her as a stranger, someone she met by chance. He came to her as a mortal, disguising his immortality, and his power, letting go of the anger that burned in his veins.

He came to her as a mortal. To be loved. Not worshipped. Her ancestors had worshipped him for centuries before and had stopped worshipping him a long time ago too. He did not want her cowering away from his touch, avoiding his eyes. Yixing wanted her to be drawn to him, to desire him, to love and cherish him. He was starved of love, and finally he was allowing himself to feast.

If only she would let him.

------ 

They had met again a few days later, in a bookstore.

Ida was searching the stacked shelves, browsing through the old bookshop, for some inspiration for her second anthology. Old dust and the smell of old books hang in the air, made more apparent in the summer heat and the lack of air conditioning. The sun shone through the large display windows, breaking through the labyrinth of shelves as the only source of light.

A book had caught her eyes, perched on the top shelf, far from reach. Ida tried standing on her tiptoes to reach it. Her fingertips barely grazed the spine of the book below. From behind her, she could hear light footsteps. She turned towards them, hoping it was one of the employees.

Instead, she found Yixing walking towards her with an old book in his hands.

“Need a little help?” He asked, looking down at Ida with his deep brown eyes.

“Can you reach?” She asked, standing on her tiptoes in a pathetic attempt to reach the book she wanted.

Yixing walked over to her silently, and Ida stood frozen as he reached for the clean white spine, pulling it out from in between hardcover editions. His arm brushed against the side of her head, and she could feel his chest rise and fall behind her.

“This one?” Yixing asked, his voice merely a whisper. Even then she could hear the playful smile on his lips.

“the sun and her flowers?” He sounded amused by her choice. In reality, Yixing was ecstatic. Everything about her seemed just right. He could feel the red strings of fate wrapping around him. Like the god of oracles that he was, he could feel them wrap around his wrist, felt them against his ribs, felt their shadow against his heart. Fate was a thing not even gods could escape from. Not him, not Jongdae. And despite whatever Junmyeon thought, he would not be able to escape it either.

“Yes. Thank you.” She muttered, snatching the book from out of his hands.

“Do you want to read on the couches with me?” Yixing asked when she moved away, a warm smile on his lips, and hopefulness shining in his eyes.

“Okay.” Ida agreed, drawn to the man. He seemed to pop out of nowhere, in her most precious, private places. First so far away from the city, and far away from the beaten paths, in the middle of wild meadows. Now, in the old bookshop, located far off the main streets somewhere in a back alley. Ida wondered whether it had been luck. A mere coincidence that she had bumped into the professor.

They sat on the old velvet couches that had long since seen their better days. Her, with a sleek white copy of the sun and her flowers. Him, with a copy of Homer’s Iliad, the spine and cover softened with age and use. The silence that settled over them didn’t last long.  

“I was wondering,” Yixing started, catching Ida’s attention. She turned to look at him.

Situated between the cushions of the velvet couch, dressed in yellow, Ida looked like sunshine.

Yixing thought she was glowing. The highest compliment the god of the sun could offer. Her eyes fell on him, deep and blue, like the sky in between thunder, like the sea during a storm. They washed over him like water. Soft, lifegiving; capable of drowning. She was a duality. But so was he, and the thought thrilled him.

“What is your favourite poet?” Yixing finally asked, thrilled at the way Ida’s eyes fell over him, analysing him before she finally spoke.

“I like Nikita Gill.” She responded, never taking her eyes off him. An almost benignant smile formed on his lips.

“Anyone else?” He asked, leaning towards her, his fingers drumming silently against the armrest.

“You wouldn’t know them.” She told him.

“You thought I didn’t know you.” Yixing reasoned, anticipating her answer, hoping for something interesting. She was going to be his lover, she should choose her favourites wisely. There was not a poet he didn’t know. 

“I like Adam Mickiewicz.” The answer brought a smile to his face. 

“He’s a Polish Romanticist.” Ida told him, leaning towards him, her fingers clutching the armrest so close to his fingers he could feel their warmth. Of course he knew that. All poets after all, were gifted thanks to him. He knew them all, had blessed them all.

“I like Homer and Li Bai.” He told her, the Iliad laying in his lap.

“As expected of a professor.” He laughed at her, his voice resounding around the bookshop like bells.

They spoke of their favourite poets, him of Aesop; her of Maria Konopnicka.

Once the sun began to go down, its orange glow turning Yixing’s skin a rich gold, he bid her farewell, and left to meet with his godly brothers. As he disappeared, so did the sun, letting the night settle over the city like a blanket. 

------ 

It was then he decided she would his. His last lover.

He would take her as his wife, if his brothers would permit.

Olympus was silent when he entered. The air thick with tension, smelling like the sea breeze. Thunder raged above his head, the clouds black and looming. It was clear Jongdae and Junmyeon were arguing. Yixing was left wondering who else was there, and which of his brothers were against it.

He walked across the marble pavilion, thunder raging in his ears and wind whipping at his hair and clothes. He could tell Sehun was there as well.

The golden doors of the Assembly hall opened and Yixing walked in, weary of his brothers, sitting at the round table, all chairs occupied but one.

Junmyeon was standing up, leaning forwards, arms propping him up against the table. His hair was windswept and messy, and his eyes, a ranging storm, landed on Yixing. In comparison to his brothers, Yixing was a ray of light breaking through the clouds. The tension in Junmyeon’s shoulders seemed to evade him as he stood straight, head held high. The clench in Jongdae’s jaw and the worry swimming in Jongin’s eyes were foreign to him as he walked leisurely towards his seat.

“What do you have to say for yourself Yixing?”

“Junmyeon, I love you as a brother. And I respect your judgement as one of our elders.” Yixing told him, “But I cannot fight fate.” The look in his eyes, bright and shining and honey coloured, held both power and determination. Behind it however, his brothers could clearly see the pleading that swam somewhere behind his pride. He was in love with the mortal. They had no doubts about that.

“What do you plan on doing?” Kyungsoo asked, eyes the colour of the earth, hard and unyielding, set underneath strong, straight borrows. His full, heart shaped lips dyed the colour of ripe berries. The god of the earth and harvest was practical. Kyungsoo would make no decision without hearing all sides first.

“I want to marry her.” Yixing told them, his voice deeper than usual, face set in stone, more serious than his brothers had seen in a while.

“You hadn’t taken a wife in all those eons. Why now?” Baekhyun asked, his eyes wide and sparkling, his whole body on edge with the anticipation of his answer. The god of love had been excited when he found out about his brother’s infatuation, granted him his blessing before he was even asked. Although Baekhyun gave them his blessings, he also awaited the tragedy that would surely bring an end to the romance. Gods rarely stayed with mortals. Their short lifetimes were mere fleeting moments within the eternity that were the lifetimes of him and his brothers.

“If it is just fate you wish to appease, we cannot accept it.” Junmyeon told him, his voice drowning all other sounds.  Despite his reluctance, he could see the sincerity swimming in his brother’s eyes. He sat down, much calmer now than when Jongin had come in to deliver the news that the two have met on Earth. He wanted what was best for his brothers, and worried about the anguish the god of sun and healing would surely endure if he did not love her. He worried for the mortal too. The gods were capricious, moody beings. Often unfaithful. Their romances most often ended in tragedies, whether Junmyeon liked to admit it or not. That was the truth.

“The Fates make and unmake knots in our threads as they please. Who’s to say they will change your fate in a century.” He reasoned with Yixing, walking from his seat at the table, to rest a comforting hand over his shoulder.

“The Knots for chosen lovers, and the knots for fated ones are different.” Jongdae’s voice was barely above a whisper. He turned to look straight into Yixing’s eyes, the air charged with electricity as he stared, lightning cracking above the marble halls.

“Fated lovers had their knots in our threads since the beginning of time.” He would know. His wife had been mortal once too, before he took her from Earth into Olympus. Baekhyun was nodding along, the god of love could see the knots in their life threads, far away in his mind’s eye, he watched the Fates hold the knot that signified Idalia in Yixing’s thread, on old thing, wound tight it was almost impossible to undo. There was nothing they could do to stop it.

“You cannot escape fate.” Jongin’s soft voice broke through the electricity in the air, his eyes wide and innocent as he recalled what his older brother told him years ago. He watched in awe as it was all coming true now, fate unravelling right before his eyes.

 Jongdae had been understanding, but wary.

Yixing was a god, and so, he was not safe. He was vengeful and prone to anger, like the rest of his creed. His love, like their loves, was fleeting. He would have to make her immortal, to marry her.

But it was dangerous, almost impossible task.

“Love her. Have children with her. But now. Within the constraints of the short human life. It’ll hurt less.” Chanyeol advised him. His satin orange tunic moved in the light like flames in the wind, the god of fire towered over them all, his eyes, burning into Yixing’s despite their wide and gentle appearance.

“She will die.” Yixing admonished, the healer in him raging at the thought of the gentle woman, lifeless, the glow no longer present in her skin.  

“And another will come in her place.” Chanyeol said, his voice more forceful, words burning hotter at the tip of his tongue.

“I don’t want another.” Yixing insisted. It was hard to argue with his brothers. Especially in times like these, when he knew, and Baekhyun knew, that what they wanted of Yixing, to keep away, was impossible. Jongdae knew it better than anyone of the hardships he would have to face to keep Ida by his side.

“Enough.” Junmyeon ended the assembly, letting the gods disperse, letting Yixing go back to Earth.

------ 

The third time they met Yixing had bumped into her on her way home.

Ida was coming back from the grocery store, hands filled with bags as she walked on the empty pavement. It was still a mystery to her how she managed to walk right into Yixing, when the whole pavement was free. Alas, she did barge straight into him, sending her falling, and her shopping rolling on the ground.

Kind as he was, Yixing helped her pick up what fell out of the bags, a smile on his lips as his dimples poked through.

“You really didn’t have to do that.” She told him, picking the bags off the floor and slinging them over her shoulder. Yixing just smiled, before giving Ida the last bit of shopping that had rolled on the ground.

“Nonsense.” He laughed, his dimples poking through. Ida took a moment to appreciate the way the he looked in the lights of the streetlamps, his features half cast in shadows, making them seem more defined. He looked different than he did during the day. Like some of his softness was missing.

“I’ll walk you home.” He offered, and Ida looked around, trying to see whether anyone else was walking by. By some stroke of luck, they were alone in the silent alley.

“It’s getting dark and you are all alone.” Yixing told her, a hint of worry lacing his voice as he stared into her eyes. She averted her gaze and thanked him, leading the way to her apartment.

“Thank you.” She muttered when they stopped outside her block, the night security guard looked out of his booth at them, making sure nothing suspicious was happening.

“Do you want to come in?” Ida asked, gazing at her watch. There was still time to invite him for coffee. Over their few encounters she had grown interested in the bright man.

“Thank you.” He told her as they entered the lobby. They entered the elevator together in silence, neither knowing what to say, as obnoxious instrumentals played in the background.

“How is your writing?” Yixing broke the silence, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he clocked his head to look at Ida more clearly.

“I’m making progress.” She smiled, her head bobbing lightly to the elevator music.

“How are your lectures?” She asked, curious as to what being a professor was like. She imagined that it was tiring, having to deal with hundreds of students.

“The ancient Greeks are a little tough to swallow in the beginning.” He laughed. It was true that Homer and the others were not easy to understand on the first try. Especially with all the mistranslations of their work. Culture simply was not like what it used to be, and what people considered rude or funny had also changed. He had spent his existence dealing with poets.  They were indeed an interesting group of mortals. One he had blessed himself, and so he kept them under his wing. Somewhere in his ancient heart he had cared for them.  They walked through the corridor to her apartment, they footsteps muffled by the old carpet.  

Once they entered Ida’s small apartment, Yixing’s eyes were instantly drawn to the multitude of papers lying around everywhere. Manuscripts lay on the round dining table, on the kitchen counter. There were papers stuffed in the shoe cupboard and pinned to the cork notice board in the small kitchen. A bright laugh burst through his chest. Without knowing it, his fated lover had spent her time worshipping the god of the sun and the arts. Poetry was something Yixing had gifted to humans a long time ago, and it was through poetry that he was worshipped. It had filled him with glee to know that the woman he would love, the woman whose knots tugged at his heart, had been heard by him before he came down to Earth.

“You have been busy.” He told her between laughter, and she smiled politely, embarrassed by the mess she had left.

“Can I look at it?” Yixing asked, and Ida nodded, gesturing towards the round dinner table in the small living room.

“By all means. Go ahead.”

“Do you want tea, or coffee?” She asked once she was in the kitchen. She put the kettle on boil and took out two cups.

“Tea please.” Yixing said, eyes never leaving the printed pages of her manuscript.

They spent the rest of the evening sipping tea and discussing her poetry, selecting through the pages for the poems to publish, and those too personal to give to the world just yet.

“Would you like to go out with me?” Yixing asked at the end of the night, bolder than before. More determined to have her now that his brothers did not disagree with the idea.

“As a date.” He clarified when she said nothing, her eyes widening in surprise. A bush bloomed over her cheeks, and she smiled.

“Sure.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow.” He told her, before he left her flat, the door closing softly behind him.

------ 

Yixing had been true to his word. By seven, he was waiting outside Ida’s block, wearing a patterned burgundy button up shirt and a checked blazer.

When Ida walked out onto the stairs, Yixing’s old heart skipped a beat. She was pretty. No pretty wasn’t a good enough word. Ida was sublime. Bewitching. She had worn a burgundy dress with a lace collar, unknowingly matching with him.

A smile graced his lips as he greeted her, offering Ida his arm. She looped hers through his, smiling at him.

“Where are we going?” Excitement tethered on the edge of her voice. Yixing gazed down at her, looking into her hazel eyes. She was wearing makeup tonight, and the shimmery gold eyeshadow reminded him of the sun.

“Out to dinner.” He told her, walking Ida to his car. He had gone to great lengths to seem mortal for her. Jongdae had told him most of the things he knew, seeing as his wife, although now immortal, like spending her days off in between mortals.

He opened the passenger door for Ida, and then stepped out on the street to get to the driver’s side. At first Yixing expected driving to be hard, but he quickly got the hang of it. Admittedly, he had spent multiple centuries bringing the sun across the shy, and the chariot, graciously given to him by Helios when he retired, was almost like the machine he was sitting in now.

The fancy Chinese restaurant Yixing took Ida to wasn’t crowded. There were multiple empty tables all around, and the lighting was low and subdued. They were sat in the middle of the room, not too close to the entrance, and not too far to the back. At the back of the restaurant, Ida could hear some sort of string instrument being played.

“What are they playing on?” She asked Yixing, hoping he would provide an answer. He smiled and turned in the direction of the sound.

“That’s a pipa. It’s something like a Chinese lute.” He smiled, his sweet voice moving through the air like honey. Ida nodded, her attention focused on the man in front of her.

When the waiter came along to take their order, they both had chosen various dishes, mostly dumplings, and a pot of herbal tea to have along with them.

Over the course of the evening, Yixing told her about his brothers. At least that’s what he called them. He had told Ida that they didn’t all have the same parents. He had not elaborated on that, and Ida was not going to pry into it. Family business was private, and to her, all that mattered was that Yixing seemed very close with all of them.

She in turn told him about her sister, who was going to get married in a week’s time, and about how she still didn’t have anyone to go with.

“I’ll go with you.” Yixing insisted, his dimples coming out as he pursed his lips, waiting for her reply.

“You should.” She laughed, and Yixing too the opportunity to hold her hand which was resting on the table. She intertwined her fingers through his. The red thread tugged at his heart, and although Ida could not feel her read thread of fate the was Yixing could, her cheeks turned a light pink under Yixing’s intense gaze.

They ended up coming back to her apartment, where Yixing had taken the liberty to open a bottle of red wine. They sat down on the couch in her living room, the news running in the background, for lack of anything better.

Brave from the alcohol beginning to curse through her veins, Ida leaned in closer, her lips finding Yixing’s. Her lips were soft and smooth against his hot ones. Yixing was the god of the sun, always warm, sometimes too warm. Tonight, sunlight streamed from his fingertips, warming Ida up wherever they touched. They burned their trial across her neck when he brought her closer.

When their clothes were discarded, his hands scorched trials across her back, over her collarbones, and his lips, feverish against her skin, burned their marks in the form of purple bruises against her neck.

Warm and content in Yixing’s arms, Ida sealed her fate, and for a brief moment, she could feel the ropes, red and soft against her skin, tugging and pulling at heart. Tangling with another rope, coiling itself into knots against it the same was she had wound her fingers into his hair, tugging at it to pull Yixing closer.

He stayed the night.

On Olympus, the Fates had picked up a new thread.

 ------

Morning came, and just before dawn Yixing had managed to untangle himself from the still sleeping Ida and return to Olympus. He brought the chariot across the sky, the sun chasing after him as the night faded away. Jongdae caught him standing at the edge of the Pavilion, looking down at the endless sky.

“She will love me?” Yixing asked, looking at his brother for help. Jongdae had already suffered through this, the mortal waiting. Yixing wondered whether he could live with the uncertainty living in his belly like a feral beast, roaring to life any chance he was away.

“Certainly.” His brother reassured him, a comforting hand splayed across his shoulders, bringing him in closer. It was reassuring that one of his brothers understood how he felt right now, as fate threw him left and right.

“Mortal’s take time to fall in love. They don’t feel the pull of fate like we do.” Jongdae encouraged him. He knew first hand what it was like to be in Yixing’s shoes, all alone, as your brother fought over your fate – the fate you knew was inevitable. The fate that you knew was well underway.

“Go to her, before she wakes up.” He pulled Yixing away from the edge of the pavilion, past the white marble columns and the Assembly hall, towards the sturdy stone stairs that lead downwards, past the unending expanse of the sky-sea and the clouds.

“Bye Jongdae.” Yixing murmured to his brother, before he disappeared in the blueness.

------ 

When Ida woke up, she could no longer feel the burns she swore she had felt as she was falling asleep. She had inspected herself in the mirror standing in her bedroom. Apart from the array of hickeys on her neck, her collarbones and back were perfectly smooth.

Yixing looked on from his space on the bed, laughing quietly at her looks of confusion, happy that he was also the god of healing, and that he didn’t have to explain the red lined he had burned into her back the night before.

“Do you want anything for breakfast?” Ida asked as they walked into the kitchen.

“Eggs?” She opened the fridge and pulled out the carton.

“Only if you make them sunny side up.” He told her, a cheeky grin spreading over his face.

She smiled back at him, and his heart sored.

He left shortly after breakfast. Ida’s sister was coming to make sure Ida had the right dress for her wedding, and they both preferred if her family did not question what was going on between the two. Yixing, because he could not tell them outright, that she was fated to be with him; Ida, because her sister would then call all their cousins and their parents, and Ida was not in the mood to explain to everyone that she was not getting married.

------ 

“What do you have there Idalia?” Her older sister taunted, looking over Ida’s shoulder at the poem she had decided to work on this morning.

“He was golden,

In the way it bounced off his skin.

He was warm,

In the way he held me.

He was light,

In the way his laugh escaped his lips.

He was ancient,

In the way he spoke

and the way his eyes looked at me.

He was scorching,

In the way his passion fell from his fingertips,

Against my skin.

-          He is like the sun.”

“How may I help you?” Ida asked, sarcasm dripping off her voice. Her sister paid her no mind as she continued reading over her shoulder.

“Are you going alone to the wedding? If you are, I found someone for you to go with.” She threw out nonchalantly, testing the waters. She had wanted Ida to find someone to go to the wedding with, since she didn’t want her going alone.

“I’m not going alone.” Ida told her, a little annoyed, and a little embarrassed that she would think so.

“Then with whom?” Her sister prodded, leaning against her shoulder.

“A friend.” Ida tried to cut the conversation short, not ready to tell her sister everything about Yixing just yet.

“Which friend?” She continued prodding, her voice a pitch higher.

“He’s a professor.” It wasn’t surprising. Ida tended to spend her time in bookshops and among writers, so finding an academic was not surprising. She just hoped that Ida wasn’t bringing an older guy. The conversation ended there, since Ida did not want to talk about it any longer.

“Good luck with your new anthology!” Her sister hugged her goodbye, before leaving to sort out wedding details.

------- 

The day of the wedding rolled around too quickly, and before Ida knew it she was in her parent’s house, helping her sister with her veil and shoes, as Yixing stood to the side, politely chatting to her father.

It had come as a shock to Ida’s family that she was now seeing the young professor, who had turned up in a dark blue suit and white button up, without a tie, and a pattered pocket square stuffed in his breast pocket.

Her cousins had fallen silent, no longer laughing at her lack of a date, and your sister had given her a pat on the back when he walked in, looking like he belonged on a magazine cover.

The ceremony was beautiful, as one would expect, and when the wedding party rolled around, Yixing had sat down beside her at the table, his dark eyes scanning the room.

“Is this what you want?” He asked, eyes on her cousins, dancing with their partners, before he turned to Ida.

“No.” She told him. “I don’t like being the centre of attention. I don’t need a white dress, or a hundred flowers, or a seven layer cake.”

“Then what do you want?” Yixing hadn’t been to a mortal wedding in a while, maybe since Troy? Or was it after? Since then, anyhow, customs have changed, and as a God, his own wedding would look a lot different from the one here. He knew that Jongdae, as the Head of Olympus would marry them off, the rest of his brothers and their wives would be in attendance, along with his muses and the nymphs. A dinner would be prepared, and then they would leave for their home. Even now, even regarding this, a matter supposedly set in stone, he wanted to appease her. Yixing wanted to know what it was that Ida wanted.

“I want a quiet ceremony. To have dinner with my family, play a few games and go home.” Ida told him, her eyes never leaving her sister, smiling and looking like a princess in her wedding dress. Ida wondered what it would be like to marry him; marry Yixing and spend the rest of her life writing poetry, only to have him make her read it to him when he came home. She wondered what it would be like to wake up beside him every day, the past few times had been quiet affairs, him awake before her, stroking her hair and shielding her eyes from the sun that the streamed through the windows.

“That sounds nice.” Yixing nodded, content now that he was sure she could get exactly what she wanted.

“What do you want?” Ida asked, leaning into him as he stretched his arm out over the back of her chair, pulling her closer.

“The same thing you do.” He told her sincerely, letting her rest her head against his shoulder.

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A few weeks had passed since the wedding, and Ida was getting sicker by the day. For the last few days, she had risen moments before Yixing, only to end up in the bathroom. She complained she felt sick, and one day Yixing had confined her to bed rest as she was having a fever. She wasn’t sure what was happening, and Yixing had urged her to see a doctor, able to sense what it was that was making her sick, but too nervous to tell her himself.

This morning, Yixing had watched her empty the contents of her stomach three times before she left for work. Each time, he handed her a glass of water, and even made her lunch to take with her since she couldn’t stomach anything for breakfast.

Promptly after, his brother had called him to Olympus, where another storm raged above their home. The wind whipped against Yixing harder than it had when Junmyeon found out about him meeting Ida. It had raged, angrier than when the Fates had tied Idalia’s knots for her, at the very beginning of her life.

Apprehension ate him raw, as he stumbled into the Assembly Hall. None of his brothers seemed happy to see him. No one seemed calm either.

“Do you have any idea what you have done?” Junmyeon roared, eyes darkened, and hair wet from the sea. All other sounds were muffled by his voice, and even Baekhyun, who had always been the most light hearted out of all of them wasn’t smiling.

“Yixing.” Jongdae greeted, but his voice was cold and piercing, matching the lightning that flashed across the sky above them.

“What are they doing here?” The god of the sun asked, weary eyes falling on the three Fates, sitting at the table in between Jongin and Baekhyun. The three women- one looking like a young woman – The Spinner, one mature – The Alloter, and one elderly – The Unturning, sat at the table, weaving a red thread in between their fingers, new and bright red and still loose without a single knot in it yet.

“Bringing news, Sun God.” The Unturning told him, her voice hoarse and scratchy.

“What thou have done, thou cannot undo.” The Alloter whispered. Her voice, gentle and motherly, sent a shiver up Yixing’s spine.

“The life thou made, thou cannot unmake.” The Spinner said, her voice an echo that carried over the Pavilion and across Olympus, silencing the storm as it passed. For a moment all was still and quiet, before the Unturning looked him straight in the eyes, her own eyes, black and empty in their sockets, stared into his own with such intensity, no matter how badly he wanted to look away, Yixing couldn’t.

“Sun God, she is with child.” The Unturning said, her voice even. A calm washed over Yixing at her words. A second later it was gone, the weight of them sinking into him, drowning him the way Junmyeon’s tempests drowned sailors, washed over him like the cold waters of the river Styx, baring his bones to the outside. His greatest suspicion, greatest joy and greatest fear, had been confirmed.

“Ida?” Jongin asked, his sweet voice pulling Yixing out of the raging storm in his head.

“She who sees the Sun, who was named after the ancient city of Idalion.” The Spinner tells them, and neither Junmyeon nor Chanyeol have anything to say.

It is Yifan, the God of the Dead and the Underworld, who is the first to break the heavy silence.

The smile on his face was dim and only slight, but there is genuine care in his eyes.

“Congratulations Brother.” He told him, and there was a lightness in his voice, aberrant of the God of the Dead.  He towers above Yixing as he stands, putting his large hand over his shoulder. On his other side, Zitao, the God of Time, and Luhan, the God of Wisdom and War, stand to congratulate him, their voices tinged with happiness, and a sparkle in their eyes.

It is Minseok who calls him over from his seat on Junmyeon’s left, and hands him a ring. It is golden band, crafted out of his snow and Chanyeol’s fire, looking too intricate to have been created by mortals, buy Yixing knows it is unbreakable, forged from the gold in Mount Olympus.

From beside Minseok, Junmyeon pulls out another band, a little broader than the first one, and the way the pattern curls against the gold he knows that it had been crafted deep under the sea in Junmyeon’s forge.

“You have our blessings. All eleven of us.” He tells him, and for the first time since he met Ida, there is no anger hidden behind his eyes.