“Grab the bull by the horns the old adage goes. Nobody tells you where to go from there.” Becoming the Bull:Atreyu

Europa's heart fluttered wildly as her brunette ringlets caught in the salty breeze and she splashed her hands within the waves that slapped against the alabaster beast bearing the princess from her home in Phoenice to the Achaean island of Krete.

“Be wary of the sea, my love,” the magnificent bull between her legs grunted. “My brother is as changing and unpredictable as the very waters he commands. If he perceives any of your actions as disrespect, it will make the journey difficult.”

“I merely enjoy the refreshing touch of the sea. He would not harm the mistress of his older brother, would he?” she asked, fearing her lover's reply as the world of the gods was still beyond her comprehension.

“Poseidon does not care for the structure of power among the gods and therefore he cares not for mortals, even those favored by the gods. He has always acted independently of his kin.”

“But you are the god of the skies, are you not? Your skies encompass his seas, so he is within your domain. Are you not in control of him as such?”

“I am god of the skies,” he asserted indignantly as if insulted by her suggestion that he might be anything less. “But I respect my brothers and their power, so I do not govern how they should behave.”

The Tyrian princess fell into silent contemplation, considering Zeus' words. Unconsciously, she placed a hand on her swollen belly and a foot kicked in response.

“Three sons you shall bare,” the god remarked.

“Three? I must come up with two more names for I only have one!”

“What name is that?”

“Minos. 'Tis a fine name for your son, is it not?” she said proudly.

“Minos of the Bull,” Zeus said darkly, recollecting a prediction given to him when visiting the Delphic Oracle in mortal form.

“Son of the Bull,” Europa smiled, ignorant of her lover's words.

“And Father of the Bull.”

Crowned with thick curls of white like saline froth that danced on the shore, he had a striking quality compared to his extensive family. Grey eyes, the shade of angry storm clouds, peered out from under his exotic locks. The brooding appearance of the sea god disturbed many of the other deities in Olympus who wandered by, as this signaled scheming, which would inevitably lead to conflict and tragedy for the mortals below.

“Why do you sit facing Notus' breeze? Is it my city you set your sights upon, god of mischief?”

Poseidon spared a glance over his shoulder, though he knew the voice of his brother's daughter. The lovely figure stood poised behind him, in a gossamer gown adorned with simple gold bracelets and a diadem to signify her superior rank, as a daughter of Zeus, among the minor gods of Olympus. Her dark tresses contrasted with her creamy skin with eyes that reflected the vividness of the heavens.

“Do not presume that it is mortals who decide what belongs to whom among the gods, Athena. The city may be your namesake, but it has always been within my domain and the people of Athenae have always shown reverence towards me since before you were conceived.”

“Yet you vex them with rising waters and flooding because they build monuments and temples for me greater than your own.”

“As I said, it is within my domain and therefore mine to do with as I will. If I should decide to drown the city beneath the depths of waves, so it shall be.”

“I warn you, uncle, do not harm my people. I will not suffer such offense if you continue tormenting them to slake your envy. There are other cities where you are regarded with high reverence, so leave the Athenians alone. They looked to me for protection as the matron of the city and your actions are an affront to me as their guardian.”

“You truly are my brother's daughter, for such audacity towards one significantly more powerful than you is a family trait,” Poseidon growled.

“I do not fear you,” the goddess of craft declared, and turned her back to her uncle before he could reply, striding away in a way that emphasized her femininity.

The god of the seas watched her leave and exhaled when her presence disappeared completely.

“You will regret crossing my path,” he muttered in an accusatory tone under his breath, returning his gaze to the far distant acropolis of Athenae, where the accursed olive tree grew ripe with life.

Twenty four years later.

“More twine, Clotho,” her sister, Lachesis, insisted.

The nimble fingers of the spinner created golden thread as her older sibling commanded, braiding strands of fate together as if to spin a story. Lachesis glared jealously at her younger sister's lovely hands compared to her withering ones.

“Is it ready?” Atropos, eldest of the sisters, inquired.

“Yes, Dionysus need only to deliver it in six cycles of the moon before the falling of the leaves...Aegeus has consulted the Pythia in Delphi,” Lachesis commented. “And Pasiphae courts the white bull of Poseidon.”

The three Moerae bowed their heads as if in mourning.

“So it begins,” Atropos sighed.

“Son of the Bull and Son of the Sea

Ill-starred children of a divinity

Bastards of Anger they are cursed

Heralding death upon their birth,” Clotho chanted.

“Bull-horned son of Minos' hate

Love shall be thy treacherous fate

And damned is the son of Aegeus

By Phaedra, the Bane of Theseus,” Lachesis continued.

“The lovely Ariadne, abandoned on Dia

Mercy shall be granted to thee by Athena

The Bull-horned one shall claim his mate

And the circle of gods' revenge shall break,” the eldest sister finished as her shears cut the end of the golden thread.

Aphrodite stood disguised as a maiden of Pasiphae while the queen dressed herself as a cow to woo the white bull that Poseidon had gifted Minos to bless his ascension as king, which was reminiscent of the form Zeus took to entice Europa. Unfortunately, the Kretan king was disgusted by his mother's bestiality and so refused to properly sacrifice the bull in the name of the sea god. With the help of the love goddess, Poseidon then cursed his wife to become enamored of the bull as compensation for the king's lack of respect.

“Does it fit, my lady?”Aphrodite asked.

“Yes, it is perfect. That Athenian man, Daidalos, did a fine job,” the Kretan queen observed, assessing her appearance in a looking glass before going to the beach.

“'Tis a fine beast.”

“'Tis a marvelous beast,” Pasiphae said, her voice deepening with passion.

“It shall make a fine mate,” the goddess remarked, weaving magick into her words. “So godly a creature should be a better lover than any mortal man.”

“Yes, I cannot wait any longer, I must have him,” Pasiphae groaned, the heaviness of her breathing made the cow suit warmer, which only served to ignite her already heated lust.

“Then we must make haste, the bull awaits you.”

By the shore, where it had risen from the waves three days before, stood the great bull whose pale fur gleamed as it reflected the rays of sunshine. The queen, in a hurried frenzy, went to the beast, put on her costume, and offered herself to it. When her dark eyes met with the grey gaze of her bovine lover, Pasiphae did not see the eyes of an absentminded animal, but rather felt as though she were staring into those of another being such as herself.

“Take me, I am yours,” she begged the bull.

He grunted in response and took his position behind the anxious woman. The Kretan queen struggled to support the weight of the massive beast as he mounted her, wrapping his forelegs tightly around her waist. Aphrodite watched in fascination, noticing a flash of hair reminiscent of the foam, from which she was born, materialized around the bull's horns. The goddess of love thought nothing of it until she saw the creature's member and realization dawned on her.

Pasiphae moaned with ecstasy when Poseidon thrust against her, but when he managed to penetrate her small body, she felt an unexpected pain. The bull pushed harshly into her small body and Pasiphae cried out in agony, but her lover was not deterred by her screams. As they copulated intensely, the goddess of love turned away, unwilling to bare the screams of the terrified queen as the sea god forced himself violently into her. When Poseidon was spent, his mortal lover fainted onto the sand shore and Aphrodite came to him in her goddess form, dressed only by the tepid, spring sunlight with seashells sewn to ribbons braided into her dark, aureate tresses.

“You did not say you had intended to take her, you merely wanted her to be smitten with your beast,” she pointed out, displeased that she had helped him all but rape this unsuspecting woman. “I was upset that she did not heed my rites, but I would never have visited such a punishment on any woman.”

“I am not obligated to share my intentions with you,” he said dismissively as he shifted back into his true form, his body as bare as Aphrodite's.

“You are if you ever want my help again. Such an act of violence against a woman is a severe transgression, even amongst the gods, and I am within my rights to punish you for your behavior.”

“Then why did you not stop me?” the sea god asked as he approached her. “Why did you not strike me down while I was in a weaker state and occupied with that wench?”

Before she could answer, the love goddess was swept into Poseidon's strong arms. He pinned her to the ground, against the grainy beach with the waves brushing along their feet as the waters leapt at the shore. Remembering the day of her birth, Aphrodite's nature found the situation arousing.

“How did you know it was me?” her male counterpart inquired, with the lower half of his body pressed against her.

With a impish grin, she reach down and grabbed his member, which readily stiffened in reaction to her touch. “I never forget any god or goddess that I have been with, and there is no mistaking your...body,” she explained, combing her fingers through his hair so like sea foam.

Stimulated by the goddess' hands, the god gave into the urge to allay his desires with a powerful being, as he could not understand what satisfaction his younger brother found in mortal women. The pair tumbled along the sand, causing tremors throughout the lands. With each thrust from her partner, Aphrodite could hear the waves crashing and as his breathing grew heavy, so did the gusts coming off the water. When Poseidon was finished with the love goddess, he rose to return to his palace under the sea.

“Why her?” she asked before he could leave from her lounged position in the sand. “You have never taken an interest in mortal lovers like your brother has. Why did you chose her? What are you planning?”

“I have suffered many offenses by the Achaeans and I wish to exact retribution. 'Tis all you need know of my intentions,” he said as he sunk beneath the wild sea waters.

Two weeks later.

A drunk, middle-aged Aegeus stared at the lovely young teen before him. Princess Aethra had light nutbrown hair with golden highlights that gave the illusion of a bronze color and her fair, olive skin was soft to the touch as the Athenian king ran his hands along her naked thighs. Her exuberant hazel eyes met his listless chestnut ones. Too intoxicated to see the disgust of the young princess at having a man so old atop her, he began to slide out of his pants. The strong wine King Pittheus had served made his eyes heavy and his clumsy hands fumbled.

“Sleep,” a booming voice commanded from the corner of the room.

Aegeus suddenly passed out on Aethra's bosom and the startled princess regarded the tall shadow that had appeared in their chambers.

“Do not fear me child,” a male voice said softly as he stepped out of the darkness.

The young woman inhaled sharply as her eyes swept over the magnificent figure of the sea god, whose likeness she recalled from the seaside temple just outside of her father's city. Because Troezen was built so close to the shore, the people held Poseidon as their patron god. His overwhelming presence as a powerful deity and the object of her people's worship made Aethra dizzy.

“What is happening? Why are you here, my lord?” she managed.

“I wish you to bear me a son,” he answered, approaching the bed and removing Aegeus' body from her own. “One who will inherit the Athenian throne.”

The shock of his statement caused the girl's body to become rigid, as she was horrified, remembering some of the tragic stories she had heard of mortal mothers who bore half-god heroes. Any of her people would be honored to participate in any child-making with gods, but she was very aware that the divine intervention of gods in the mortal realm often lead to sadness and destruction.

“I told you not to fear me, I am not going to harm you,” Poseidon insisted upon seeing her unnerved reaction.

“What do you plan to do with our son?”

“That is not your concern, you are only responsible for rearing him and following the instructions I give you once he becomes a man. After he leaves, he will cease to be of any concern to you.”

“Nonsense, if I am his mother, then he will always be of concern to me and I demand to know what you intend to use our son for,” she said, forgetting to whom she was speaking to.

The princess' words reminded the sea god of his niece, Athena and he found his anger rising like the tides. Snatching Aethra by the neck, he pushed her into a submissive position on the bed and savored the panicked look on her face as he knew the goddess of craft would never give him such satisfaction. He glared down at the girl, careful to control his strength so as not to break her neck.

“You dare speak to your god in such a manner? You should be grateful to even share my presence, let alone my company in your bed,” he snapped.

“Forgive me, my lord,” she croaked from under his mighty grip. “I do not mean to disobey.”

“Good, then you will not deny me that which I came for?”

Her eyes widened in fear as she felt him pressed firmly against her thigh.

“N-N-No, my lord,” she complied. The shattering of her dignity could be heard echoing in her cracked voice.

“Then do not speak to me, do not move, do not hinder me and it will end soon,” he warned.

Nine months later.

Two sons of Poseidon were born on the Winter Solstice, an Athenian-prince-to-be and a Kretan prince abomination, with intertwining destinies, bred for one purpose...

A/N: Sorry I had to take this down briefly, it needed some editting for historical and mythological verifications. This is a short story I have been holding back on while I post the Triurian Nexus, but since I took down that story, I will post this as compensation for now. I use a lot of traditional terms because I want the myth to be as pure as possible. I poured over some ancient Bronze Age maps (which is supposedly around the time this took place) and Crete was called Kreta, Athens was Athenae, and the Greeks did not call themselves Greeks, so I borrowed Homer's name for them, the Achaeans. Not all the names are traditional because they do not suit my plot, but it's my story, so it's ok, lol. If you took the time to read all this, please leave a review. CC encouraged.