The story of Aerion's spectacular failure spread through the Pantheon like wildfire. Within hours, the tale had twisted into a dozen versions, some involving wild romantic poetry to a horse, others suggesting Aerion had proposed marriage before the beast bit him. Every god and goddess had a different telling, but they all shared one thing in common:
Aerion was the punchline.
Two weeks passed, and he remained the center of divine mockery. Even stoic Tairochi chuckled when someone casually mentioned "a ride worth remembering." Maximus nearly wept from laughter when someone gifted Aerion a golden horseshoe wrapped in a silk ribbon.
And through it all, Malvor and Annie grew closer.
She was proud of her revenge, righteously proud, and he adored her even more for it. The horse, now dubbed Karma, remained in Malvor's stables. Somehow, it adored Annie and barely tolerated anyone else.
She'd never had a horse before. Never had the freedom to ride, to run, to feel the wind against her skin without fear or duty anchoring her down. But here? In Malvor's realm, on Karma's back, she laughed. Loud and real and unafraid.
Malvor joined her often. Sometimes racing her through winding orchards, sometimes conjuring elaborate obstacle courses, and sometimes just walking beside her, hands tucked behind his head, eyes lazily on her as she rode.
In the warm glow of twilight, they'd rest in the soft grass beside a shimmering stream that ran through his ever-shifting landscape. Arbor would materialize snacks and drinks, knowing precisely what they'd want. There, they would talk, about everything and nothing. About gods and mortals. About dreams neither of them had dared admit they had.
Some evenings, they did not talk at all.
Some evenings, it was just the rustle of leaves and the steady sound of their breathing. And in those quiet moments, something unspoken between them grew stronger. More real.
And neither of them dared name it yet.
But they felt it. In every shared glance. In every smile. In every heartbeat that now pulsed not just for themselves, but for each other.
The afternoon sun hung low over the hills, casting long golden shadows as Annie guided her horse back toward the stables. Her laughter still echoed faintly in the wind, Malvor had nearly fallen off twice trying to show off, and both times she had nearly fallen off herself from laughing too hard.
Her cheeks were flushed from the wind, her muscles pleasantly sore. She hadn't ridden since she was young, if ever, but with Malvor, she had been learning. Not just riding. Living. Laughing. Letting go.
They walked the horses back in comfortable silence, side by side, her shoulder brushing his now and then.
At the stable doors, she turned to him. "Today was… nice."
He tilted his head. "Nice? I nearly broke every bone in my divine body for your amusement."
"That is why it was nice," she said with a grin, nudging him gently. "You are fun when you are not trying so hard to be dramatic."
He clutched his chest in mock pain. "You wound me. Again."
Arbor opened the stable doors for them before either could say more, and Annie laughed softly under her breath as she handed off the reins.
Malvor stepped closer. His expression shifted.
"Go shower. Dress in something that makes you feel beautiful," he said, voice low. "Tonight, I am giving you something different."
She blinked. "Different how?"
He just smiled. The kind of smile that held secrets and promises. "You will see."
And with a snap of his fingers, he vanished, leaving her standing there with wind-tangled hair and a fluttering heart.
It started with Arbor dimming the lights.
Not in a you're in trouble way. This was softer. Warmer. Candles flickered to life along the walls of the dining hall, more candles than Annie could count. They floated gently, suspended midair, casting golden reflections over the polished black marble floors.
The table had vanished. Replaced by a smaller, intimate setting in the center of the room. A silk-covered table for two. Two crystal glasses already filled. A bottle of something sparkling chilling in a carved stone bucket.
Annie blinked.
"Arbor?" she called out.
No answer, just soft instrumental music starting from nowhere and everywhere at once.
Then Malvor appeared in the doorway.
He was dressed in a tailored black suit, dark and regal with a subtle shimmer that caught the candlelight like stars caught in velvet. A single red rose sat tucked in his lapel.
"Annie," he said, offering his hand, "care to join me for dinner?"
She stared at him. "What is this?"
"Candlelight. Class. A stolen Pinterest board of romance." He winked. "And me."
She huffed a laugh but took his hand.
Dinner was quiet, decadent, and surprisingly… peaceful. No grand speeches. No dramatic antics. Just soft smiles. Easy conversation. A few lingering glances that made her feel warm in places that had long been cold.
But the true surprise came after.
He stood slowly, extending a hand again. "Now, my sweet potato, will you allow me the pleasure of a dance?"
"Ballroom?" she asked, skeptical.
"Traditional. Timeless. Torturously formal. Just like my childhood."
She raised an eyebrow. "You had a childhood?"
He did not answer. Just pulled her gently to her feet and into his arms.
At first, her steps were awkward. She had never danced like this. Not really. Not where it mattered.
But he guided her, effortlessly, patiently. His hand at her back, the other holding hers just firmly enough. His voice low near her ear.
"One, two, three. One, two, three."
And slowly… she began to glide.
Their bodies moved in sync. The music swelled. Her bare feet skimmed the marble, his steps matching hers perfectly. He spun her once, twice, catching her again with a smirk.
"You're doing beautifully," he murmured, forehead brushing hers. "You're always beautiful."
Her breath caught. Her walls trembled.
And in the flickering candlelight, dancing in the arms of the god of mischief, Annie let herself feel something dangerously close to love.