((Got inspired and wrote this short scene. I was inspired by the myth of Demeter nursing a mortal child. ))
((This is unrelated to Hero. ))
The Violet Eyes of the Goddess
As the young mother fought her way back to her traveling tent through the waist high snows, ten thousand imaginings of death and dismemberment passed through her mind. She desperately hoped that her newborn daughter will still be there when she returned. Though the young mother should have still been in confinement after childbirth, the lack of food drove her out. It would have been impossible to bring a wailing infant out into this cold, much less on a successful hunt. Thus the young mother had no choice but to leave her daughter behind.
Yet when the young mother arrived at the tent, instead of torn canvas and a bloody cot, she found a freshly fed fire and a strange pale haired woman with violet eyes nursing her child. The strange woman looked up and welcomed young mother with a chilly smile. The young mother shivered as if someone walked over the grave. Deep within her heart, the young mother knew that this woman, this goddess, could end the lives of her and her daughter with a single thought.
The young mother dropped her doe and went for her belt knife. Even though it was futile, the young mother will not meet death without a fight. She had given up too much to see this child live, just to lose it all to a violet eyed goddess without a care for a mortal’s fleeting existence. As long as the young mother had breath in her body, this goddess will not take her daughter.
“Never fear, child. I am not here to claim you daughter’s life.” The goddess assured the young mother. The violet eyed goddess broke the child’s latch her nipple and tucked her breast back into her robes. “Not yet.” The goddess added cryptically, as she rose to her feet and laid the child back in her cot. The young mother slowly approached, hand still on knife, to check on her daughter. Looking down into the cot, the young mother saw that her daughter was unharmed. A trail of milk dribbled down the child’s cheek as she yawned.
The goddess smiled and with her thumb gently wiped the cheek clean. The child stirred in her cot and opened her eyes to stare at the goddess. “Such lovely dark eyes. When the time comes, I shall keep them replace them with my own.” Without another word, the goddess gathered up her shirts and walked out of the traveling tent into the deep snows. Her footsteps, as ethereal as starlight, barely broke the hoarfrost. The young mother watched the goddess climb the snow bank and step into the night sky.
Years later, the mother told her daughter the story of when the Maiden of Endings nursed her. The daughter laughed at the time and thought her mother mad. Until the day when the daughter looked into the mirror and saw not her own familiar brown eyes, but the violet eyes of the goddess.