Verna and the Hall of the Gods

The Hall of Gods was grander than I remembered. Golden columns shooting upwards into a roof of midnight blue dotted with silver sparkles of stars. Polished marble tiles, alternating blacks and whites like a chess board, a reminder the Gods played games and bent the rules towards their favor. Their imitation tactics had never stirred any feelings of fear or apprehension in me, even during those first days when it should have, leading to me to believe I was created lacking such emotions. Scents of wildflowers and the sea hung in the air, a faint scent of wine. Paintings, crafted by the best of Earth’s artists, depicting the gods in their beautiful glory were hung on the walls between the columns. I prided myself on my lack of portrait, not because of my absence of beauty, I rivaled even the beauty of Venus, but because it meant I was beneath their notice. It was easier to be a thief when you were essentially invisible.

I sauntered towards a large dais; my black worn boots soundless against the floor. The silver silks of my skirt fell below my knees, the flowing delicate fabric soft against my legs. A brocade dark coat with golden inlays hugged the curves of my upper body, and the corner of a black and gold paisley mask hung half out of my pocket. My dark hair fell down to midback, sparkling sliver gems embedded amongst my dark strands. I had dressed for the masquerade I would fail to attend. If I listened closely, I could hear sounds of a party rumbling through the floor. While in normal circumstances I would revel with them, stealing artifacts off their persons and making advantageous arrangements for myself while the gods were at their most exuberant, I was feeling lackadaisical.

Stealing from the most powerful beings in the universe should grant me satisfaction of the utmost variety, but as of late, it was if the thrill had dissipated. It was too easy, the threat of being caught now abysmal, along with the dark joy which accompanied it. As I began to climb the steps of the dais, I reflected on the fact that while almost being discovered raced my godly heart, it was never with fear, it was with anticipation, pure adrenaline, the knowledge I could outwit the best of them and run circles about the slowest of mind.

I plopped myself onto the golden throne of Jupiter, leaning back onto its mighty seat, my feet crossed at the knee, dangling above the ground. I was too small to reach the arm rests. I surveyed the grand room, trying to imagine how Jupiter felt, reining over the gods. The greatest act of thievery, I concluded, would be stealing Jupiter’s seat of power from beneath him. I had never desired such power, never sought such attention. Darting amongst the shadow’s unseen among the home of the Gods and in the narrow dark alleys of Earth was where I thrived, not here upon the throne, in the light. It seemed ruling over the gods would take more time than I would like to employ, and they had the tendency to fight amongst themselves like petty infants, but I was becoming bored. Perhaps manipulating a throne of power from Jupiter would thrill me, return me to my vivid glory. It was worth contemplating such a con.

In the meantime, I dropped from my perch on Jupiter’s throne, and proceeded from one seat to the next, scooping up spare coins scattered beneath each throne, petty offerings from humans. I found an enchanted mirror slung in a bag with the texture and feel of water, property of Venus, and slid it into one of the concealed pockets of my jacket. I exchanged Vulcan’s flaming hammer, a particularly heavy object, with Diana’s bow and arrows. I switched Mar’s spear with Minerva’s and wondered how long it would take them to notice the weapon at their right hands were not their own. As I moved them, I felt a slight rush at the power the masterfully crafted weapons contained. None of the Gods believed anyone bold enough to temper with their thrones.

I jumped down from the dais, satisfied. The trick was a bit petty, I admit, but it would stir the pot, as the human’s say, creating conditions for my greatest con, if I decided to pursue such power. I admired the silver ring I had found on the armrest of Juno’s throne, and proceeded down the hall. The hour was late, in the Hall and on Earth, and I could sense the prayers of thieves in the nights, pleading for guidance and protection. If I found their cause worthy enough, I would assist them with their misdemeanors.

My head jerked up at the sound of a footfall on marble. Not as heavy as the golden polished sandal of a god, nor subtle enough to be one of the rodents who had found their way to the Hall. A human servant or lesser god, then, whose purpose in the empty Hall of Gods was a mystery. Soundlessly, I moved behind a column. I slid my hand over the many necklaces draped about my neck, each containing locks of hair, until I found a rough black strand of hair deemed useful for the situation.

I stepped from behind the column, patting down the robes of my white tunic. I cast a curious lazy eye over the young man staring at me, fixing my face into a bored expression. He wore plain clothes, an ill-fitting white tunic and sandals. Borrowed clothing to play the role he was brought to perform. “What cause have you to be roaming around the Hall of the Gods, mortal?”

He recoiled at the volume of my boisterous voice. “Lord Bacchus. I beg your forgiveness, I had to see the Hall with my own eyes, while I could.”

I stared down my long nose at him through Bacchus’s eyes and flexed my fingers, now appearing fitted with dozens of Bacchus’s rings. “You come from the party, do you not? Who is your sponsor this evening?”

“The great beautiful Venus.”

“Of course,” I said, rolling my eyes. She would stoop to dress mortals in the fashion of centuries ago. “I suggest you return to her before you are missed.”

He looked at me with wide eyes filling with tears. “You aren’t going to tell her?”

“Not if you remove yourself from my sight at once.”

He darted off without a second though, his long tunic flaring behind him. I allowed the illusion of Bacchus to fade from my features, returning me to my natural self. I tucked the strand of Bacchus’s hair back amongst the rest and made to leave, the prayers of my human thieves a soft, yet insistent, ring in my ears.

“Neat trick with the hair.” A voice from the shadows halted my confident stride. I paused, pivoted, and approached, flicking my fingers to cast golden globes of light into the air. Against the stark white marble wall, a small figure lay sprawled on the floor, iron chains binding her wrists at eye level, leaving her arms to dangle above her head.

She appeared no older than twelve. Stringy brown hair framed her narrow face. Her nose upturned; eyes wide with mock innocence. She may have the body of a twelve-year-old, but she was no child. Her eyes were heavy with years of life.

“Being a god does have it’s perks,” I said, crossing my arms in front of me, wondering if I should add her hair to my collection. I had the hair of children, but none like her. None who had such deep blue eyes. I doubted she would comply. I brought my hand up, adjusting the strands of hair so they were hidden beneath my jacket.

“How does it work?”

“You saw how it works."

"I saw you touch a piece of hair around your neck and turn into the wine god.”

“I took on his illusion, nothing more. Complex, yet attainable, magic.”

“How did you get his hair? Did you steal it?” She tugged at her chains, adjusting her posture so she straightened, back against the wall. An off-white shift smeared with grime reached down to her dirty kneecaps.

“Something like that.” It was more complicated. The hair could not be stolen, it had to be given. Some were more willing to part with a piece of hair than others, not that they knew its purpose to me. Others had to be manipulated. If a stranger handed you a jacket on a cold corner and it had strands of his hair, it was fair game. Manipulations and deceit, not outright theft, was how hair could be obtained for my collection. 

“You’re her, aren’t you? I’ve heard of you, dreamed of meeting you. You’re L-”              

“Verna,” I cut her off. “It’s more modern, fitting for the twentieth century. Would you be willing to part with a strand of your hair. It would look fine in my collection.” I spread my lips in a toothless smile.

She shrugged. “If you get me out of these chains you could have all of it.” 

I took a few steps forward, running a finger over the iron rings binding her to the wall, the golden globes following my movement. It would be simple enough to remove the chains. “The Gods don’t keep just anyone locked in their Hall.”

“I would be at your mercy if you released me, your obedient servant.”

I laughed. “You have no idea what you are pledging yourself to.”

“Anything is better than what they have planned.”

“Who are you?”

“Release me and I will tell you.”

“Manipulations don’t work on me. I am the great goddess of deceits and thieves.”

She sighed, leaning back. “I knew it would be a fruitless effort. I am a daughter of chaos, destined to bring destruction and calamity to Gods and humans alike.”

“Chaos,” I mused, turning my back on her for a moment. I could use her for my great scheme to steal the throne of Jupiter. Chaos would weaken him, putting him in a state I could easily manipulate to my advantage. I approached her chains and placed a finger upon them. They unlocked beneath my touch.

The girl stood, flexing her chaffed wrists, and yanked a piece of hair from her head, extending it to me. “I owe you, goddess, a great debt.”

I took the hair, stuffing it into the compact mirror in my pocket for safekeeping. “Now let’s create chaos, shall we?”