Who Was Circe

Aria was the Luna of the Winter Mist pack, renowned for her achievements in war strategy. Her contribution was crucial in her pack becoming the most powerful in the entire country. Everything in her life should be perfect. ...Except it wasn't. In actuality, Aria's life was anything but successful. She was helpless to the whims of her abusive Alpha mate and his mistress. A mate who never loved her. As she watches their relationship grow, her options are to run away or die trying to keep her Luna position. But this is not the story of how Aria sways his closed-off heart until he finally loves her. No, this is the story of how Aria died. So when she is faced with the opportunity to go back in time and try again... will she take it? ...Or is she fated to relive her mistakes all over again? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "...And if I refuse?" I asked hesitantly. "Then you will remain in the Abyss, forever reliving your earthly memories." My mind recalled the images that had just tormented me, showing me my death over and over again. I knew now she must have shown me that strategically so I had a taste of what my refusal would look like. "Then I don't want to be Luna again... and I don't want to be Aleric's mate," I said, surprising even myself that I was bargaining with a Goddess. But I couldn't shake the feeling something seemed off. "That is the fate I have chosen for you." "Then I don't accept," I argued. "I think there is something you're not telling me. A reason why you need me to go back so badly." She was silent, her silver eyes regarding me warily. "...So I am correct," I said, taking her silence as confirmation.

Blood and pain are all she seeks. After losing her loved ones brutally in an unfaithful night. Amphitrite is on the quest of pure blood bath. After learning to be an assassin for ten whole years she becomes THE ULTIMATE ASSASSIN. She is on the quest to find those that took her loved ones away from her. She vows to take them down one by one, until her mission is accomplished. But there's more to her that meets an eye.

I was Apollo’s most devoted follower, the lover he handpicked from a sea of worshippers. With me, he’d always shed his divine arrogance. He was so tender, so attentive. I actually thought he loved me to the bone. Until seven days before our Consort Ceremony, when I used my gift of prophecy to peek into our future together. I expected to see a lifetime of blinding love. Instead, I saw him violently tangled in the sheets with my adopted sister, Cassandra. Wrapped around him, Cassandra giggled. "You're so good to me, my Lord. Thanks to you, I'll finally get my sister's Sight and take her place as High Priestess." And Apollo—my god, my lover—smiled down at her with pure adoration. "Whatever makes you happy, little bird. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have played pretend for this long, let alone allow her to become a god's consort." In that split second, my heart turned to ash. My faith shattered into a million pieces. With seven days left until the ceremony, I didn't confront them. Instead, I fell to my knees before the altar of Hades, Lord of the Underworld. "I offer you my gift of prophecy. I will be your most loyal follower in exchange for your sanctuary." "Please. Take me away from here. Take me somewhere Apollo can never find me."

Hades was well-cast to rule over the land of the dead. But what if Hades, the fearsome monarch of the Underworld was, in fact, a goddess? Everyone called her, 'Lord of the Dead' out of mockery since she prefers the company of women. She was considered an isolated and violent immortal, who loathed change and was easily given to a slow black rage like no others. But then everything changed when the dark goddess met the daughter of Demeter, Persephone. Now the tale of Hades and Persephone will be retold with a sprinkle of twists and turns.

My husband Hades gave another woman my birthday celebration. Then he gave her my mother’s brooch. Then he let our son call her home. Nympha was the flower spirit who had grown up beside him. The healers said a curse was killing her, and she had only six months left before she disappeared forever. Hades said he only wanted her final days to be free of regret. So I was expected to be generous. Even when our five-year-old son, Eren, curled up beside her at the hearth and whispered that she felt more like home than I did, I still told myself he was only a child. Then one night, I heard him say to Hades, “Nympha is so gentle. So beautiful. I wish Mother could be more like her.” Hades only smiled. “Your mother is strict because she wants what is best for you,” he said. “But if you like Nympha so much, I can let her stand beside you at the family altar. She can bless you like a second mother.” That was when I finally understood. My husband had already given her my place. And my son had accepted her there. So the next morning, I placed a marriage dissolution agreement before Hades. He signed it without reading, because Nympha had collapsed again and he was desperate to reach her.By the time he realized what he had signed, I was already gone. If they wanted Nympha to be the lady of the Underworld, I would grant them their wish. But why, after I left, did Hades tear the Underworld apart looking for me? Why did my son cry himself sick, begging for the mother he once pushed away? And why did the dying woman they protected so carefully suddenly stop looking so fragile?

Once there was a king and a queen with three lovely daughters. The youngest, Psyche, was so beautiful, so fair of face and form that she was revered throughout the land, and the people of her kingdom reached out to touch her as she passed. No suitors dared to cross her doorstep. So highly was she worshiped that Psyche was deeply lonely. Her beauty became legend, far and wide, and it was not long before words reached the ears of Venus. Tales of the young princess enraged the jealous goddess, and she made plans to dispose of her. Venus called upon her own daughter, Cupid to do her bidding. It was meant to be a quick mission except Cupid did not expect to find herself entranced by the same passion she inflicted on others. |Note: This is a lesbian retelling of the Roman Mythology, not Greek|