ABCD Drabble OS by CP

Self-proclaimed men of letters referred to her as Fate's Mistress or The Temptress for short. The foolish merely called her Desire. But only the brave called upon her. For she alone turned dreams to destiny and destiny to dust.

She got up as the clock hands drew closer to twelve. It was almost midnight. The air chilled around her. She felt a buzz of irritation as she watched the moon slowly cover the sun. It started to snow.

"Glory?" she repeated and he nodded, his eyes lowered, his body shaking. That in itself peaked her interest. A lesser man would have dropped to his knees.

She reached out and touched him. His body temperature shot up even as his lives flashed before her eyes - past and present. She felt her lips curve into a small smile. But of course. She should have known. He was no lesser man. Couldn't be even if he tried. Even if all the stars conspired to will it so. For he was the son of Peleus, a long forgotten god. And he was asking for the same thing he had before.

It had been 300 decades since.

300 decades of watching dreams battle with despair and loose. 300 decades of gods and kings that disappeared just as swiftly as heroes and poets. Of revelations and revolutions, of peace and protest, of enlightenment and empowerment. For her puppets, she knows it was a long time, almost an eternity. Long enough for those that sought eternal youth to feel jaded and trapped and for the powerful to realise power was a mere ploy. Those two had always been their hot favourite - no matter the century or civilization.

She thought it ironic, thought they should have learnt by now, by stars they had much time. But alas, if there was one thing she knew about them - it was that they were forgetful and conceited. Too sure of their own minuscule might to ever pay heed to the sands of time.

But he had been different - one of the few to defy the odds. When he had sought her out, he'd just been a brute of a man. Golden skinned and hard-muscled. With thunder in his heart and blood on his hands. The Greek war hero. But he wasn't satisfied, craving for more, always more.

He'd asked her for glory then, but once he'd attained it, he'd realised he'd sought love all along. That was always the way with mortals - demi-gods or not.

Now he stands before her a world-renowned dancer. Times have changed and so has the world. But though he's travelled the loops of space and time, his essence remains the same. He still uses his body the best way he can. He still craves glory and he'll still end up wishing he'd asked for love instead.

But she's the Temptress, and if that's what he desires - it's what she will grant him. Even if she knows better. Even if she wishes different.

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And it's done. That's exactly 500 words. Exactly. It's reincarnation mixed with the legend of Achilles (More the Troy version than Homer's Iliad). Or in other words, Reyaansh is Achilles. Yes, I know. But the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Plus it uses up all the words so yay!

I hope you enjoyed it and it wasn't too unbelievable. Thanks for reading!