Chapter Text
Prometheus had always known about the inevitable tragedy of Deucalion’s children. Death would have been mercy. To never live at all would have been a blessing compared to the path the Fates had planned for any son of Prometheus. Once, Prometheus had vowed to never have children. If Prometheus’ arrest for his theft of fire was always inevitable, it was better that Hesione could return to Oceanus rather than stranded on land to care for their children. That had changed the day Prometheus had seen the clay doll, shivering as he slept on the workshop floor. The promise of joy with the child had overwhelmed Prometheus’ senses. Prometheus decided to name him. Prometheus decided to sculpt him to take after his father and mother.
Surviving the Great Deluge was not the only tragedy of Deucalion. To have lived despite the will of the Gods meant that Deucalion had defied and humiliated them. Zeus enacted his vengeance accordingly.
No path existed where Prometheus could have stopped what had happened. Chained to the highest frozen peak a thousand miles away. He could do nothing but know.
It was not his fault, Prometheus reminded himself. It was Zeus’.
Before Prometheus pushed open the doors of the common room, he found himself frozen. Nothing will be the same again after what the two of them shall reveal. Prometheus pushed open the doors. Everyone looked cautiously at Prometheus, eager to hear what he wanted to say.
“One truth about the Gods is all it shall take for her to defect,” Prometheus began. “An inexcusable fact. Once she knows this, she shall not doubt us.”
Dora tilted her head. “Isn’t Veil convinced that the Gods are good, no matter what? What truth would that be?”
Prometheus looked at Dora in pity. “What the Gods had done unto the children of Deucalion, they have also done unto the children of Pyrrha, Pandora,” Prometheus whispered to her.
While Dora looked at Prometheus in confusion, Epimetheus stared at Dora in worry. He, like Prometheus, knew what had happened.
“Dora, dear?” Epimetheus whispered to her. “We could talk about this somewhere else.”
Dora shook her head. “No, whatever happened, you can tell me right here, right now. What happened to my daughter’s children?”
The eyes of Deucalion looked so impossibly tired. “After Pyrrha and I have survived the Great Deluge, Zeus wanted us to suffer. We trusted that the world would always be safe enough to have children in. But the Gods wanted us to suffer.” It broke Prometheus’ heart to hear how Deucalion’s voice quivered. Deucalion looked at Hesione, who cautiously listened to every word. She was petrified, as a deer would at an arrow. “Mother? When you were in Elysium, you’ve met my children. Correct? But only my sons. Not my daughters, not their children, either. Neither have you, Dora.”
“Yeah, cause they don’t like me,” Dora said with a shrug. “Since I opened the jar and all.”
“That is not why,” Deucalion told her.
Hesione’s ocean blue eyes widened. “Your daughters… Zeus had killed them?”
Deucalion shook his head as tears welled in his eyes. “If only, Mother. That would have been kinder than the fate that Zeus had willed for them,” Deucalion whispered with his quivering voice.
“And this one truth shall be what it takes to make your sister defect from Olympus. What makes you that certain?” Heracles questioned.
Prometheus held his hand out, and Deucalion put his hand into his father’s, then clasped. Hesione, Heracles, Aetos, Dora, and Hermes looked in anticipation as Deucalion hung his head and breathed slowly and steadily. When he had prepared himself, Deucalion raised his head and spoke.
“Zeus raped my daughters.”
All air dissolved in the room. All eyes stared at Deucalion, completely petrified.
Dora hiccuped. Hesione clenched her fists. Prometheus had never seen jovial Dora cry so loud before. He had never seen kind Hesione so full of fury before. Zeus must die, Zeus must die, Hesione cursed at the top of her lungs, over and over again. My poor granddaughters. My beautiful granddaughters, Pandora reeled as she buried her face in her hands. Epimetheus consoled with Dora. Deucalion rested his forehead against Prometheus’ arm, panting as he steadied himself. Aetos bowed his head away. Heracles and Hermes stared at Deucalion in pity. However, from their lack of a reaction, they were not surprised that Zeus had done such a thing.
Heracles, his face was impossibly pale from guilt of what his father had done. He refused to look at anyone in the eye.
Eternity passed, and everyone stilled, exhausted.
“Listen closely. This is what shall happen. This is what must be done.”
All had been prepared. Olympian soldiers waited at the base of Mount Olympus. A clear path to Tartarus had been determined. Tonight was the night to deliver Prometheus to Tartarus.
Break his last strand of defiance. Drag him by the hook to the base of the mountain. Follow the path to Tartarus. That was very possible tonight, Aeschyne told herself. As Aeschyne stood at the frigid base of Mount Olympus, her very bones could not believe that this shall happen. Fates be willing, this shall be the last night Aeschyne shall ascend the mountain. Once Prometheus was gone, she shall be accepted as family of the Olympians.
Aeschyne shall no longer be the daughter of Hesione. No. But Hesione would be relieved to be forever severed from the reminder of her husband’s broken promise. Once Prometheus was dealt with, Aeschyne shall plea for Hesione’s freedom, not as family but as she would with a misguided stranger.
Then there was the issue of Heracles and his conspiracy with Prometheus. Aeschyne’s blood boiled, realising that the brute had surely encountered her birth mother. It was likely that it was Hesione who had cast an incantation that had stopped Heracles’ curse. Did Prometheus lie to Hesione that Heracles was a victim? Maybe so, for Hesione would have refused if she had known otherwise. If only Hesione knew exactly why Prometheus was so protective of the Demigod. Planning to use Hesione for her talents so he could run off with him, Aeschyne thought with a scoff.
A part of Aeschyne was confused as to why Prometheus did not try to escape. Why didn’t he find a way out? Why did he seem to surrender to his doom? Why was it that the night Aeschyne had read the letter about her adoption, Prometheus had lumbered into every fight, no longer a ferocious lion prowling an arena, but a wounded stag stumbling aimlessly?
Wasted pity, Aeschyne reminded herself. A stronger person would have changed, not deny all his wrongdoings. Perhaps Prometheus was not strong enough. Prometheus never valued her, but Olympus shall. Prometheus never cared for what was right, but Olympus did.
Once she was to become an Olympian and bear a new name, she shall be equal to them. Aeschyne shall not be separate from them as before, when she merely served for them. Hearing their echoing laughter, listening to their bonds with one another. knowing them as they would never know her. If she was to prove her loyalty, would she be allowed to look upon their Holy faces at last? Could she join the hunts of Artemis and use a bow and arrow? What priceless insights could Athena offer her, in their hours of discussion? How many songs of the Oceanids did Apollo know? Could Hephaestus explain to her about the machinations in his forge?
And God King Zeus. How gentle would his eyes look? How warm would his embrace be? If Aeschyne was lucky, perhaps he could be proud of her for bettering herself, despite her birthright. Her faith had never faltered even for a moment. Aeschyne could only hope that they would be grateful for her aid.
All Queen Hera had given her was this chance, Aeschyne reminded herself. The rest was up to her. She shall not disappoint them.
Tonight, as Aeschyne walked into the Hearth of Olympus, she fisted her hand in the fabric of her veil and took it off. As she breathed out, the rippling heat of the Hearth rustled loose strands from her braided hair. Unhindered by her veil, Aeschyne’s gaze worked at full force. The whispers of those who had loathed Prometheus were now so loud, it was as if they were shouting. Prometheus stepped backwards as he lit his fists on fire. There was a stronger mettle in Prometheus’ eyes tonight, the way he tightened his lip and focused his stare on Aeschyne. What more, his Mark of Shame had finally clotted. As the chain of her hook clinked, Aeschyne stalked forward. Aeschyne narrowed her eyes. Hearing the scorn of his mortals, Prometheus flinched. Hearing the scorn of the Gods, Prometheus flinched again.
“That’s what I thought,” Aeschyne retorted. Prometheus’ flames blazed brighter. Aeschyne cracked the chain of her hook. Prometheus threw a wall of flame, and Aeschyne struck. Over time, Aeschyne had learnt to evade these burning flames before they erupt. She needed to be rapid as those flames themselves and attack from grounds of the Hearth left unburnt.
Yet there was power in each of Prometheus’ attacks. He was swift. He evaded Aeschyne’s attacks. The drive Prometheus’ scalding eyes tonight was unmistakable. It was purpose.
“Zeus shall never be sorry for his sins,” Prometheus told her as he flung waves of flame. “Neither will you recognise your Godmother once you see her.”
Aeschyne exhaled through her nose. She ignored his words, no doubt feeble lies to plant seeds of doubt within her.
“I know what you are,” Aeschyne accused. “Foolish Titan, hiding from your dues,” she spat, as King Zeus would. “Wretched, sly Prometheus, all bravado and no plan,” she continued, as Queen Hera believed.
Prometheus cowered as the voices of the King and Queen boomed. Defiant as he was, Prometheus continued to shoot fist after fist of flame.
Aeschyne breathed out from her nose and focused on lashing her chain upon him instead. At last, Prometheus collapsed upon one knee and knelt. He had fought strongly indeed. Not strong enough. In one hand, Aeschyne gripped her hook. The chain swung and clinked as she stalked forward.
Prometheus darted a scalding glare as he glanced upwards. “You’ll hate this one day, Kid, however you’ll lash out at me,” Prometheus started as he heaved every breath.
“I am not your daughter. You’ve made sure of that.”
Prometheus’ eyes looked so impossibly full of regret. “To think you’re doing this for Gods who won’t even like you.”
The family of Olympus shall not like her? Such words echoed in Aeschyne’s mind. Her steps genuinely stopped. But she would still be a daughter of the King and Queen, would she not? Nothing could take that away from her. As long as she stayed obedient. Aeschyne gripped her hook so tight, her knuckles went white. “So what?” Aeschyne retorted. “To fulfill my familial vows are enough. You, a flame thief, would not know.”
“You want to truly know your Almighty God?” Prometheus spat as he stared upwards. “Look upon the face of Zeus! Find the voices of your brother’s daughters!”
Such specific instructions by Prometheus made Aeschyne pause. Deucalion’s daughters? What did they have to do with Zeus? Mortal enemies of Olympus were many. But the descendants of Deucalion lived peaceful lives– how did his children deserve the wrath of the God King?
During her brief pause, Prometheus slammed his palm onto the terracotta tiles, and a column of blue flame erupted from under Aeschyne’s feet. Seeds of doubt to distract her, Aeschyne realised too late. Aeschyne gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. After a brief stint of pain, she should awake over her healing shrine in the Crossroads. But she continued to hear the crackling of the flames instead. Cautiously, Aeschyne opened her eyes. She was still inside the hearth. Prometheus’ fire did not burn her. The flames rolled past her body as if they were merely balmy wind. Prometheus had taken fatal aim, yes, but why was his fire no longer hurting her?
Two pairs of arms gripped Aeschyne by the biceps and dragged her away from Prometheus. Aeschyne shot a livid glare at Heracles. “You,” she spat. “You’re next.” She looked at her uncle, whose bright blue eyes looked at her in pity. “I knew I should not have let you go.”
A sharp pain pierced her free arm as Aetos clawed the flesh by his talons. Aeschyne shook the fowl away, gritting her teeth as she put more and more of her strength into it. But as her gaze fixed on the eagle’s cyan eyes, a strange thing happened. Aeschyne witnessed the memories of others… but they called this eagle the General of Olympus.
A cold wind enveloped the arm with her hook. There was a pull and the Oricalcum hook was tugged off her arm. Dora’s spectral form took it far away from her, each with a worried look on their face. To her confusion, the spectral form of Deucalion floated beside her, too.
“Deuca!” Aeschyne warned between gritted teeth. “You’re smarter than this!”
Deucalion shot a stern look at Aeschyne that made her tongue turn to lead. No longer was he wearing the youthful face when he had wandered across Greece. Deucalion was older and bearded, the wise king whose shade had asked for her aid in humbling Sisyphus. Once in the Temple of Justice, thousands of years ago.
Aeschyne wrestled against Heracles and Epimetheus’ grasp with all her strength. All air was knocked out of her lungs when Aetos rammed into her chest, stopping her from standing up. A whispering litany of apologies came out of Hesione’s mouth as she applied an ointment on top of Aeschyne’s forehead. That patch of skin tingled as if touched by ice and went completely numb. As everyone held her down, Prometheus made a gesture with his hand. Heracles passed the Titan his club. The olive wood club of Heracles? Why wasn’t Prometheus using his fire?
Prometheus raised his hands and held the club up high. He crashed it down upon her head, until her entire body pulsed with green light and brought her back to the Crossroads. But there was a haunted look in Prometheus’ eyes. It refused to leave her.
Once she woke up, Aeschyne groaned and rubbed her forehead until sensation tingled back. She stepped down onto her healing shrine and breathed in the cool, grassy scent of the Crossroads.
Last night was a failure, Aeschyne bitterly thought. Prometheus must have known how last night was the night he was supposed to be brought into Tartarus. He planned accordingly, and succeeded. Aeschyne held her breath and stomped her foot on the Earthen ground.
The sound of laughter and clinking kylixes echoed in the distance. To celebrate the end of the war, the Gods of Olympus had chosen to feast at the Crossroads. Aeschyne had hoped that if she had successfully taken Prometheus to Tartarus last night, she could have been allowed to feast tonight. Alas, that had not happened yet. Aeschyne doubted that Queen Hera would appreciate any entitlement Aeschyne had, intruding when she was not a part of the family yet.
Aeschyne went to her keepsake cabinet in the training grounds and checked her nazar ring. Last vanquished by Prometheus, it declared, absent of all his accomplices. Aeschyne wondered why Prometheus had used the club of Heracles to vanquish her. Could not bear to make his lover do the dirty work, she bitterly thought. Yet why did his flame no longer burn her?
Next, Aeschyne checked the crystal cabinet where she kept Bdellodont. To her frustration, the hook was gone. Confiscated by Deucalion and Dora, Aeschyne remembered. Aeschyne closed her eyes and listened. Each of the Thalassal Arms emitted sonar waves that could only be heard by its wielders. The Orichalcum hook made a series of quiet but bright ping that pierced the night. On Mount Olympus, Aeschyne identified.
Without a weapon, how shall she duel Prometheus tonight? And what of the next? Aeschyne pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled. She glanced at the moon pool. The silver of the Nocturnal Arms shone as brightly as the moon. Perhaps Nemesis could lend Aeschyne her sword, or perhaps Princess Melinoe could lend her any of her weapons. Aeschyne would need a way to secure Prometheus, however. Without a way to secure Prometheus, Aeschyne could not attempt her ascension again tonight, she realised. She would have to figure out another way. Aeschyne could only hope that she would not disappoint Queen Hera.
Speaking of the Goddess, someone descended down the stone steps to the training grounds. The sound of rustling feathers. The swish of teal satin. Aeschyne’s heart, it thumped so hard she thought that it could burst. She gathered her veil in her hands and bowed. Aeschyne was not part of the Olympian family yet, yes. But would Queen Hera permit her future daughter to gaze upon her face at last? Aeschyne dared to raise her head, until-
“Ah-ah,” Queen Hera reprimanded. “Proper form.”
It seemed as though Aeschyne had grown reckless. Aeschyne did as she should. Knees on the ground. Hands on the lap. Eyes closed. Head bowed. Mouth shut. Never doubt an Olympian. Never disturb an Olympian. Never look upon an Olympian. Aeschyne repeated these words in her mind, over and over again. She listened to her own slow breathing until her heart had calmed down. As she closed her eyes, she waited for Queen Hera to speak.
“That was not so hard, was it?” Queen Hera encouraged in her velvet voice. “Your tattoo is showing.”
The ring of ocean waves on her bicep, as all Oceanids bore. Aeschyne tugged her body veil downwards to hide it.
Queen Hera hummed in gratitude. She began to sigh dramatically. “Alas, alack. You have made an unsuccessful attempt, if you are back here again. After all we’ve done to ensure a swift victory, yet that Titan hides on our mountain still. I scarcely believe it. Ah. Everyone makes mistakes. Don’t they? Go on. Speak.”
Aeschyne bowed her head. “Queen Hera. I have made an error, yes. Last night, I was stopped by…” the companions of Prometheus, Aeschyne had wanted to finish. Aeschyne did not care for Heracles nor Aetos. But Hesione, Epimetheus, Dora, Deucalion… Aeschyne’s planned attempt to plea for their innocence shall already be a tall favour. “I was stopped by the schemes of Prometheus,” Aeschyne said instead.
The swishing of Queen Hera’s silks as she walked towards the empty weapon cabinet. “The Titan prowls our mountain, still. You’ve even lost your hook?” Aeschyne found that her tongue had petrified. It was unacceptable, yes. Aeschyne was sad to hear Queen Hera so disappointed. “Oh, perhaps the fault was mine for overestimating your limits.”
“No, Queen Hera, please do not blame yourself,” Aeschyne pleaded as she shook her head. “I alone attempted this. If I had failed, it was my fault. Because of me, Prometheus’ arrest is delayed. Because of me, your home is still not freed-”
“What have we talked about running your mouth?” Queen Hera sharply reminded her. Aeschyne pressed her lips firmly together. She grasped the navy sash around her waist in her fists. She breathed. Aeschyne did not mean to panic. She was grown, and yet she still panicked. “There we go. Continue. You have one sentence,” Queen Hera corrected.
Aeschyne slowly breathed out through her nose. She thought carefully. “Perhaps Princess Melinoe would not have fumbled as I have.”
“Shh… no, silly girl,” Queen Hera cooed as she chuckled. “Melinoe is already part of our family. We’ve reserved this duty only for you. All a failure means is that you’ll try again next time. We can find another weapon for you. I’d send old Kratos and Bia to aid you, but that would be demeaning you. You are already capable, are you not?”
Queen Hera believed in her? Aeschyne’s very heart seemed to take flight.
“Oh-! Is that a smile I see?” Queen Hera teased. Queen Hera gripped Aeschyne by the chin and yanked up her head until her veil pressed flat against her face. Flustered as she was, Aeschyne fought the urge to pull away. This was an old game that Queen Hera had liked to play with her. Queen Hera was affectionate in that way, urgent to read Aeschyne’s expression for certain, despite her veil.
If not for Aeschyne’s vicious power, perhaps Queen Hera would have been closer to her. Despite the way she was born, Queen Hera was affectionate with her anyway. Aeschyne was grateful to be graced by Queen Hera’s warmth.
Queen Hera beckoned Aeschyne to follow her. It excited Aeschyne to hear the sound of chatter and laughter grow louder and louder. Queen Hera would not permit Aeschyne to look upon them yet, no. Aeschyne listened carefully as she walked with closed eyes.
Queen Hera pushed her a massive jug into her hands.. Aeschyne’s mouth watered at the fruity, floral scent so potent she could taste the air. Ambrosia.
“Isn’t this just like old times? You, fulfilling your childhood duties. Me, doted by our virtue and valour’s joy. How lucky you are that we need you like so. And we’ll keep on needing you, as long as time flows freely forth,” Queen Hera told her.
Of course. This delicacy was meant for her new family, not for her, Aeschyne reminded herself. Long had this war lasted where they feared they could lose their homes. Aeschyne patiently poured ambrosia for each of their outstretched kylixes, spilling not a drop. The way they thanked her was enough.
His very presence sung the air electric. Aeschyne’s heart thumped, realising whose cup she was pouring ambrosia for.
“To think sly Prometheus had a daughter who punished the disgraceful. What a weapon you turned out to be, balancing the odds to our favour,” The majestic voice of King Zeus greeted her.
Aeschyne’s heart thumped in her chest. Even with her eyes closed, she began to nod. “Thank you, King Zeus, to aid you-”
“Halt,” the voice of Queen Hera urged. “You are manic. Breathe for me, lest your manic vigour spills over to us. Revelrous Dionysus already give us our fill tonight. What do we do when we are so cathartic we could burst?”
Aeschyne pursed her lips together. She drew a deep breath in and breathed until her heart stilled. “We stop feeling and start breathing.”
“Good girl, Queen Hera praised. There was amused laughter from the Gods. They found this endearing, Aeschyne told herself. Each of the Gods beckoned her to pick up their used cutlery and diningware. Aeschyne complied, as was expected of her.
“Hoho! You there! Humble lass? Mind if you do me a favour?” The voice of Lord Poseidon quaked. Aeschyne perked up, curious to hear how she could assist Lord Poseidon. A full plate was pushed into her direction. “This chickenchar is too dry. Take it back and tell the chef to make this rare.”
“No,” Queen Hera snapped. Her long, manicured nails dug into Aeschyne’s shoulders. “She is to be our new daughter. Not our maid. Treat her as such, Poseidon. You’d know little about what our , being unwed and childless. Are you not?”
Aeschyne turned towards Queen Hera’s direction and gave her a smile. Although Aeschyne could not see Queen Hera, she holed that the Queen was smiling back.
Lord Poseidon stilled so much, Aeschyne could hear his aquatic beard flow. He cleared his throat and resumed his conversation with the other Gods. “On second thought, well done chickenchar is better than raw one! As I was saying, that Polyphemus chap still insists I’m his father, did he? I told Polyphemus that I was joking…”
There were times when the Olympians were saying something so, daresay, strange, Aeschyne had to pause. The way their surrounding relatives coaxed them afterwards made Aeschyne accept that she was simply overthinking complex matters. It was immoral to lie, Aeschyne reminded herself. Olympus was above such petty things, including Lord Poseidon.
Aeschyne furrowed her brow to hear someone stack plates and cups together and push them into her direction. “Thank you for your service,” the tenor voice of Lady Athena whispered to her. “We are more rambunctious tonight than usual.”
“Ah-ah,” Queen Hera reminded her daughter. “That one’s a shy one. You’ll only fluster her more with superfluous attention.”
“Fluster our future sister? Surely she is to be respected as such?” Lady Athena reasoned.
“This is training, Athena dear. One day, she shall be normal.”
Normal, Aeschyne thought. If she could control herself, if she could fortify her mind enough, Aeschyne could look upon her new family’s faces without the unpleasant side effects. It was a nice thought. Surely Queen Hera recognised that desire and gave her an opportunity to grow towards such a result.
So she was to resume to her former duties, Aeschyne thought to herself as she carried soiled cutlery towards the kitchen. Your new family would never even like you, Prometheus had foretold her. Aeschyne did not need to be liked by her new Godly kin, she told herself. To be useful was enough.
But would a distance always separate Aeschyne and her new family? Perhaps she was wrong and overestimated how much Olympus shall accept her as a new daughter.
No. Aeschyne’s faith in Olympus had never faltered. Someday, if Aeschyne could work harder, they shall smile upon her head as if she was their own. Someday.
Once the dishes were cleaned, Aeschyne lifted them up and brought them back to the kitchen. Xanthias had been guzzling his booze flask all night, swearing loudly as he stirred pots and tossed pans. It surprised Aeschyne to see that Nemesis had been waiting for her in the kitche as well. The way she leaned against a column with her iron gauntlets crossed over her chest made Aeschyne pause. If Nemesis was upset enough, she would draw in loud, deep breaths as she stood still as a statue, mulling over the issue. However, tonight, her citrine eyes were wide and unblinking. Those eyes darted at Aeschyne in a way that Aeschyne did not recognise. It looked like panic.
Aeschyne clattered the cleaned diningware onto the shelf. She stepped closer to Nemesis and gazed. With tightened lips and an exhale through the nose, Nemesis shut her eyes and turned her head away.
“Nemesis?” Aeschyne whispered.
Nemesis exhaled from her nose. Her pauldron-covered shoulders slumped. “Zeus becoming your new father… that means an awful lot to you, doesn’t it?” Nemesis began too hesitantly.
The smile Aeschyne began to make, she pushed it down. Aeschyne did not want Nemesis to dignify petty jabs by calling it injustice. “If this is about you insisting that my duty is too hard, we are over this.”
“Right. That.” Nemesis pursed her lips in a way that Aeschyne suspected was Nemesis not being completely honest with her. “They still make you clean dishes and wait tables. Your ‘new family’,” Nemesis questioned Aeschyne.
“They trust me to complete the hardest task of their feast,” Aeschyne explained.
Aeschyne frowned when Nemesis’ face twisted into disgust. “Then why don’t any of the Gods help you?”
That observation by Nemesis did make Aeschyne still. She looked at the stacks of dirty plates. On the Crossroads, whenever they cleaned the taverna every morning, everyone helped each other. Aeschyne and Nemesis would lift up the tables to help with the sweeping. It was so unlike when Aeschyne served the Olympian Gods. Why did Aeschyne’s new family expect only Aeschyne to do this? “They believe me to be capable,” Aeschyne reasoned to her.
The sound of clattering metal pots as Xanthias stumbled towards the kitchen counter.
“Capable? Capable of BOOTLICKING is what!” Xanthias slurred as he hung his arms over the counter.
“Are you drunk, Mister Xanthias?” Aeschyne reprimanded.
Xanthias’ face was red as he made that rattling shake with his head again. Aeschyne pinched the bridge of her nose. Much as she did not know what was disturbing Xanthias so much he was drinking, it was impressive that Xanthias was catering each and every meal while inebriated. Xanthias stumbled back to the kitchen.
“I heard what Hera said about you,” Nemesis continued. “‘Train you to be more normal’? By what? Having you obey her every word? You’re fine as you are.”
“You do not understand, Nemesis,” Aeschyne reasoned. “Her reasoning is just.”
“Olympus is not smarter or wiser than us all. They are simply more powerful,” Nemesis objected. “We were supposed to collect Odysseus for killing all those suitors. You were supposed to hook his jaw and drag this King across Ithaca for what he had done. Only for Zeus and Athena to command us to stop.”
Aeschyne pinched the bridge of her nose. “Again you bring up Ithaca. If the King of the Gods and the Goddess of Wisdom commanded it, such a mandate was just. We do not understand it– that is fine.”
“And what if they had told those suitors to jump off a cliff? Would they have been right?”
To think Nemesis doubted Olympus so much she assumed they’d do such a cruel, senseless order. “That would never happen,” Aeschyne reasoned to her.
“And if it must, surely that would have been for their own good?” Nemesis challenged her.
“I said: that would never happen. Why are you being so caustic and cynical?”
“The Olympians are not perfect. Haven’t you ever wondered whether the Olympians are all bloody idiots-“
Aeschyne had enough. She gripped Nemesis by the armour and slammed her into a tree. She pressed her forehead against that of Nemesis. Her husky breathing. Her beating heart. Her perfume of myrrh, iron, and incense. Oh, how Aeschyne yearned such closeness.
“Nemesis. My noble friend. The Fates themselves assert Olympus’ right to rule. We two serve the oath of justice, and so we heed their call. My family. The Holiest, wisest, kindest of us Gods.”
Very rarely had Aeschyne ever seen Nemesis’ visage melt into one of pity. The cold iron metal of Nemesis’ gauntlet touched the side of Aeschyne’s face. “What have they done to you?” Nemesis whispered.
Retribution incarnate, distraught at a grave injustice that was apparently done to her? Aeschyne wondered. “They gave my family their proper dues, is what,” Aeschyne told her.
Nemesis made a small flinch at those words.
“You know why I relate to you? Hm?” Xanthias told her. “I was a slave.”
Aeschyne stilled. “Why are you being hyperbolic? Lord Dionysus trusted you as his personal servant-”
“DENNIS paid me only in ‘endless gratitude’ and more work,” Xanthias continued in starkly confident clarity. “They may tolerate you now, but the second you push back, the second you turn into an inconvenience them lot will throw you away. They will look for someone else.”
“I won’t let that happen!” Aeschyne retorted.
Xanthias spluttered as he gesticulated wildly. “They won’t let you decide! They shall on your behalf!”
Your new family won’t even like you, the prophecy of Prometheus whispered to Aeschyne in the back of her mind.
But Queen Hera saw potential in Aeschyne, did she not? It was Queen Hera who wanted to invite her as a daughter of Olympus, no?
“They want me,” Aeschyne told him.
“When was the last time Hera had done something for you? Why doesn’t Hera let you look upon their faces, if all you see is how they have treated others?” Xanthias challenged.
Aeschyne was not ready yet, Queen Hera would say. But those words spun in Aeschyne’s mind in confusion.
Aeschyne only said nothing and held some plates Xanthias had put onto the counter. She walked away.
The Gods of Olympus were jovial as ever as Aeschyne placed their plates onto the table. Queen Hera watched over her each and every move.
“Mother?” Lady Athena asked Queen Hera. “Why not let our new sister rest and sit with us for once?”
Aeschyne turned her head towards the sound of Lady Athena’s voice, surprised at her offer.
“Why, I’m afraid she’ll get her lovely veil dirty if she is to dine with us. Isn’t that right, Dear Girl?” Queen Hera asked Aeschyne.
Aeschyne folded her hands and nodded. Queen Hera was correct, after all– she needed to take the veil off to eat. Aeschyne was not ready yet.
“But would she like to spend her time in our company?” Lady Athena inquired.
“Hera dear,” the voice of King Zeus beckoned. “Why not let this new daughter practise her restraint even more? Very little of her power had spilt out tonight. Why don’t you take a break from supervising her and let me do it? Nothing would happen.”
Aeschyne turned her head towards the direction of King Zeus in awe. A part of her was excited that King Zeus was trusting her like so. Yet… another part remembered what Prometheus had dared her. Deucalion’s daughters… what happened to them?
There was a tense silence from Queen Hera. “Ugh,” Queen Hera quietly scoffed. “Very well, Lord Husband. I need to get a stain out anyways. Don’t let her challenge you, you hear?”
There was a sense of panic in Aeschyne when Queen Hera walked away. Aeschyne folded her legs on top of an empty cushion beside King Zeus. King Zeus was so close beside her, she could feel a prickling that rippled from his skin and the coolness of his hair like clouds.
Look upon the face of Zeus. Find the voices of Deucalion’s daughters, Prometheus had challenged her. Perhaps a last gasp to make Aeschyne despise the Olympians as Prometheus did. Yet what would be so horrible that Aeschyne would forsake her Gods, her new father? What possible path would make Prometheus had orchestrated a plan to ensure she was vanquished last night?
Aeschyne was supposed to join the family anyway, right? Looking upon their faces was inevitable, was it not? Yet wouldn’t the Gods themselves remain unchanged?
Only a peek. Only a slight peek. Aeschyne drew in a deep, silent breath. She opened her eyes.
A God with hair of billowing clouds and a laurel of thunderbolts sat beside her. God King Zeus looked as adamantingly impeccable as Aeschyne had imagined. The freedom giver. The keeper of oaths. The avenger of stranger’s wrongs, the voices of mortals whispered regarding him. Hymns of awe surrounded the face of Zeus.
Aeschyne’s furrowed her brow to look deeper and find how her nieces remembered him. The awes of praise turned silent as great panic flooded her being. The scream of the first daughter. The scream of the second. The scream of the third.
Humans. They were only animals. Gods were not animals. Gods should not sin. Gods, with their infinite lives and their indomitable power, should know better. Yet Zeus was a rabid, gluttunous wolf. Those women were helpless lambs who cry in vain as his teeth gored their flesh. Zeus had certainly heard the wails and begging, the way his gaze locked in with Aeschyne’s. But Zeus… he was grinning.
“Zeus… what have you done to my brother’s daughters?”
The King of the Olympians flickered his gaze. His stare at Aeschyne flickered to one of confusion, and then contempt. So vividly her mind it reeled, no time at all for grieving.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BROTHER’S DAUGHTERS?!”
Everyone at the table gasped and shouted. Aeschyne shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. But the depraved scene, it stabbed her mind and crushed her heart.
A God with a beard of laminar waves and a coral crown stared at Aeschyne in confusion. Aeschyne’s heart was still thumping, trying to make sense of the shock. The fourth daughter of Deucalion… Poseidon had done wrong to her, too.
Aeschyne wanted to throw up. Aeschyne twisted her head away. Strange Gods looked at Aeschyne in confusion. Aeschyne looked left and right, bewildered of who was who. A myriad of visions overwhelmed her. Families withering away as suffocating snow starved the land. A nymph, transformed into a laurel tree to escape unwanted advances. A weaver, cursed into a monstrous eight legged form. A king, torn limb from limb by his own mother and aunts. Children, slaughtered in exchange for the killing of a deer. Men, fallen like Autumn leaves, cursing how they died for the glory of old men. A bearer of an anathema necklace that forever cursed the House of Thebes. A princess, cursed to wed a monster in retribution for her beauty.
The suffering. How countless the suffering. How potent the fear, how loud their screams, their cries. Their pain was hers, but her heart could only bear so much. The scream of a thousand souls erupted out of her throat. Aeschyne clutched her head as crushing pain eclipsed her mind and dyed her vision red.
Aeschyne rubbed at her nose. Dark, scarlet blood dripped down her hand. The Olympians clutched their heads and groaned in pain as blood dripped out of their nose and mouth. Not only had Aeschyne overextended herself, she had made the Olympians suffer as she did. Aeschyne had spilt Olympian blood.
Aeschyne stumbled backwards as her mind spun and ached. Those were… the Olympians? But she didn’t understand. The Gods of Olympus were supposed to be good people. She bumped into someone. Aeschyne squinted at the tackily garbed but unpleasant woman whom she did not recognise. The unpleasant woman sneered at her. Aeschyne gripped her hands into fists. A horrid crone who’d curse her enemies into submission. A vicious shrew who’d step at everyone below her feet. A cruel Goddess who abused her power, those who had remembered her cursed her. Who was this now?!
“Oh, who the FUCK are you?!” Aeschyne slurred.
“What did you say?”
Queen Hera. Aeschyne was looking down at the face of Queen Hera. No, that was not right. Queen Hera was supposed to tower her. Queen Hera was supposed to be pleasant and loving. Aeschyne stumbled backwards and stared at the snivelling woman in confusion. That was… the Queen? Her own Godmother? No. This was supposed to be Aeschyne’s new mother.
You will not recognise your Godmother once you see her, Prometheus had foretold. Yet Aeschyne could not stop staring at all how this Goddess was remembered. Aeschyne had always thought that Queen Hera’s first expression for her would be one of joy. Instead, those violet eyes were livid with rage. Aeschyne swallowed and stumbled away.
How many more had Zeus done this to? How many corpses lay waiting to be seen?
“Lady Aeschyne,” Princess Melinoe pleaded. Her hands held Aeschyne by the shoulders, stilling her. “Are you alright? We heard your scream. Then we heard everyone else’s. What happened to you? Why are you bleeding?”
Don’t say Zeus had violated her brother’s daughters. Don’t say Zeus had violated her brother’s daughters. Don’t say Zeus had violated her brother’s daughters, Aeschyne told herself over and over again.
Princess Melinoe’s face paled and she gawked in horror. “Lord Zeus did… what?”
Aeschyne had forgotten to look away. Aeschyne squeezed her eyes shut. She shook her head, ignoring how her head ached with every swing. She ripped herself out of the Princess’ grasp and stumbled to a quiet place by the riverbank.
Aeschyne collapsed onto her knees, then coughed and blew out coagulated blood that dripped from her mouth and nose. Aeschyne splashed river water over her face, soaking it through her veil. Her head hurt so much, she could throw up.
Oh Fates, oh Fates. Who weave on Adamantine shuttles countless and inescapable of counsels. Fair-armed daughter of Nyx, send her Order, Justice, Peace. Make her forget
The coughing sound of Zeus as his thundering steps stumbled towards the bank. The crackle of his thunderbolt in his hand. “You… what did you do to us?” The voice of Zeus slurred. Rage saturated ever vow in a way that made Aeschyne’s very blood freeze in the veins. “How… how dare you-!”
In Athens was a statue of Zeus. So wise and temperate his expression was formed, so kindly his eyes were sculpted. At times, Aeschyne had looked upon this statue, wishing it was the real God. Those electric yellow eyes were blind with fury. Those arched lips, they snarled. The wrath of Olympus. How feared Zeus was by mortals, as they would a rabid beast.
Aeschyne knelt. Aeschyne closed her eyes. Aeschyne grasped the fabric of her sash. Aeschyne bowed her head. She held her breath to control her shaking. She tensed her shoulders to control her hands. She squeezed her eyes as tightly as she could. Aeschyne could not help it. Inky tears dripped down her face.
The straining yells of Zeus as he muffled into his hands. “Gah! You brat!” Zeus scolded as he sniffed and shook out tears. “You think it’s funny, making the King cry?!”
She didn’t mean to. She didn’t mean to. She didn’t mean to, the words had twisted in her mind. Aeschyne moved not one muscle. Aeschyne uttered not one sound.
Deafening lightning crackled and scalded her body into ash.
It was a bad dream. It was a bad dream.
But Olympian soldiers stood around her healing shrine. They stuck their golden spears against her throat. They shackled her wrists. They made her march away.
It was real.
In a tent, Aeschyne was shackled to a wooden beam. Shock boiled in every inch of Aeschyne’s veins. She could not think. She could not speak. Not only was Aeschyne desperately recollecting what she had witnessed in vain, she was recollecting how she was vanquished. King Zeus had vanquished her.
Look into the eyes of Zeus, Prometheus had dared her. Prometheus must have wanted this to happen. Perhaps to dispose her?
But the daughters of Deucalion fell victim to Zeus. Aeschyne’s heart, it ached. Deucalion only wanted to live. Deucalion only wanted to rebuild his life after the Great Deluge. Why must he and his children suffer?
Prometheus’ granddaughters, beget of the mortal son Prometheus had so dearly loved. Zeus had made sure that they suffered. Deucalion, a mortal, was powerless. And Prometheus, chained to the mountain, was helpless to stop such a thing.
What a horrifying fact to bear. Had Prometheus always known what had happened? And how cruel, that the culprit of this horrible deed was the most powerful God of all? How this knowledge must break him. Yet Prometheus was unbreakable as the Adamantine shackles he was chained with.
Aeschyne shall never be a part of the Olympians’ family. Not after this incident, no. But would that be such a horrible thing? A crude, defiant part of herself asked her.
Princess Melinoe stepped into the tent. Aeschyne nervously looked upwards. There was a look of immense guilt in the Princess’ bicoloured eyes.
“Sorry we have to keep you this way. We had to keep you secure until Olympus had decided what to do with you,” Princess Melinoe explained to her.
This was the very tent they were supposed to contain Prometheus, Aeschyne remembered. “I have done wrong, Princess. This is what I deserve.”
There was a look of doubt in Princess Melinoe’s eyes. She leaned in close and whispered. “What did you mean last night, the thought you’ve shown me? What Zeus had done to your brother’s daughters? Was that… what you have witnessed of Zeus?”
The memory crushed Aeschyne’s heart again. “Princess Melinoe. I was wrong. I… I lied,” Aeschyne told her. “That was why Zeus had defended himself from me.”
“You lied?” Princess Melinoe whispered back in suspicious confusion. “But it felt so real…”
Did such a horrible thing truly happen? Aeschyne shook her head.
“No. There must be a misunderstanding to this,” Princess Melinoe urged. “Perhaps Olympus won’t listen to you, but they will to me.” The Princess stepped out of the tent.
Aeschyne flinched when the sound of Queen Hera’s swishing train and thumping golden shoes walked into the tent. Though her hands were chained behind her back to her pole, Aeschyne knelt, closed her eyes, and bowed her head.
“Well, dear girl?” The voice of Queen Hera began. “Now you know how your veil protects those around you. Why did you look? Go on. You have one sentence.”
“Prometheus dared me,” Aeschyne confessed.
“Prometheus? Oh… that utter puppeteer!” Queen Hera cursed. “As I had hoped. This was not your fault. Prometheus simply did whatever he could to ensure his freedom. You only wanted to know the truth. Prometheus doesn’t see the truth, he weasels his way through contingencies. Perhaps he knew this fact as well. You were not ready to look upon our faces yet. You see the worst in others and exaggerate those thoughts to be deafening. Oh, the lies that mortals believe about us. Us Gods have a thankless job. Every small mistake of ours is exaggerated in the public eye! Only our enemies deserve to be condemned. Do we?” Hera asked. “Do we? Answer.”
“No,” Aeschyne whispered, as was expected of her. But such memories of how others remembered the Gods of Olympus… they were too vivid and earnest to be fake. Why was Queen Hera making excuses on behalf of her family?
Queen Hera’s nails dug into Aeschyne’s chin as she yanked Aeschyne’s head up. Aeschyne relaxed her features into a neutral one. “Be honest with me. I know you can. My husband said that you had attacked him. Did Zeus attack you? Speak.”
“N-no,” Aeschyne stuttered.
“No?” Queen Hera echoed. “Go on. Continue. Tell me what had happened. I won’t get angry,” she promised.
Aeschyne’s breathing turned shallow. “I was washing my face by the river. I didn’t want this to happen, I promise. But King Zeus, h-he demanded answers. I didn’t move. I didn’t look at him anymore, I promise. He… vanquished me…” but Queen Hera wouldn’t appreciate this if Aeschyne stuttered, would she? Aeschyne pursed her lips together as she stood as still as possible. Queen Hera was quiet for too long. Queen Hera shall be angry with her, wouldn’t she?
“Oh… oh you poor thing,” Queen Hera whispered to her at last. Queen Hera’s silk cool hand brushed at Aeschyne’s face as she stilled in confusion. “You must have been so scared. No… Zeus had always been a brute,” Queen Hera confessed. “If only I could banish him from our mountain. But that would only make him angrier and vengeful.”
Such words from Queen Hera confused Aeschyne. Had Queen Hera always been in caution of Zeus?
“Queen Hera… I’m sorry to hear that. How long have you been afraid?” Aeschyne whispered.
Queen Hera said nothing. Right. Aeschyne had spoken out of turn. “Right then. I shall see what I can do. Wait. Here,” Queen Hera instructed
Aeschyne listened as Queen Hera walked away. Despite it all, Queen Hera was desperate to believe that Aeschyne was innocent. Was the idea to adopt her into the family Queen Hera’s only?
Nemesis must be so disappointed in her, Aeschyne thought as Nemesis walked into the tent. Xanthias followed her as well.
“If you’re here to tell me I deserve this, leave. I know,” Aeschyne told her.
Nemesis crouched down so they could look eye to eye. Aeschyne bowed her vision away. “Come on. I’ve fortified my mind. I’m not scared of you.” Aeschyne whipped her head up so she could look into Nemesis’ golden eyes. “You overextended yourself last night. That hasn’t happened to you in a while. Not since we’ve hunted down that tavern owner who’d strap down his guests to hack off their legs,” Nemesis observed.
Such a sentence did temporarily snap Aeschyne out of the current situation. She scoffed. “Procrustes. The depravity of that man’s deeds. No wonder Wise Astraia had forsaken mortals.”
“Oh? He did that because he was mortal?” Nemesis challenged as she narrowed her golden eyes.
Aeschyne shook her head in disappointment. “The creatures of Prometheus are many in attributes.”
“Well Procrustes was another one of Poseidon’s bastard children.” Aeschyne stared at her in confusion. “And don’t hit me with: ‘he betrayed his Divine blood’ bullcrap. Hadn’t you seen what a piece of work he truly is?” Nemesis scoffed and she continued. “Come to think of it, doesn’t Poseidon have more? Theseus? Polyphemus? More bastards he insist are only liars?”
Aeschyne found that no words came out of her throat. “The Gods, they’re… good people.” A feeble attempt. Yet the memories of those who remembered them would spit upon such a notion.
“If this was a mortal, you wouldn’t give a shit. You never hesitated pointing out others’ flaws, why are you making so many excuses now? That veil they make you wear. That name they stuck on you.”
“No… it was-“
“A proper upbringing? What kind of person would say your face is a curse?”
“A fair one.”
“Hera is telling you not to believe your very eyes or ears,” Nemesis protested.
“Queen Hera had to protect her family from me.”
“Or else… what? Olympus feels guilty about everything they’ve done to others? What are they, weak? Fragile? Come on, Fish. What does it mean if someone denies even half of that?”
“If only she knew how wicked her husband and stepchildren truly were.” Nemesis was silent in disappointment. “Nemesis… please. Please. Surely…”
“Come on, Fish. Piece it together already. Astraia’s judgement of mortals was always based on disgust. Even Lady Justice herself, she who birthed your father just to throw him away. Everyone in power, everyone who says we’re nothing without their praise… they were always saving their own stinking skin.”
“Loss of faith? You’ll get used to it,” Xanthias told her. “Prometheus must hate Zeus too, right? He’d do anything to see him gone… right? If he’s the bloke who’d work with the eagle that ate his liver, surely he wouldn’t care much to hold grudges,” Xanthias whispered to her.
Aeschyne looked into the direction of the mountain. “Zeus cannot stay,” Aeschyne admitted. “But that Titan…”
“Are you gonna do nothing and sit here?” Nemesis interjected.
No. Aeschyne shall not do nothing. Aeschyne tugged at the Adamantine shackles around her wrists with all her strength. It was useless, of course.
Two more shades sneaked into the tent. A key was in Icarus’ hands. Odysseus, too, was smiling as he stood beside him.
“We wanted you to be beloved as the Princess is,” Icarus told her.
“Aye. To think this is what they do to you just for telling the truth,” Odysseus continued.
Aeschyne stared in surprise as Icarus unlocked her shackles. To think it was mortals who were aiding her, despite everything she had said about them. As the shackles clattered onto the ground, Aeschyne rubbed her wrists. “Thank you,” Aeschyne whispered.
“We saw nothing,” Odysseus whispered to her with a wink. “There was a malfunction with your shackles.”
Odysseus has schemed an escape plan. Aeschyne ran to the training grounds and went to her keepsake cabinet. Two keepsakes. A nazar ring of red, white, and navy glass. A feather comb of iridescent blues. Both keepsakes seemed to stare back at Aeschyne, judging her. Aeschyne picked up the nazar ring and looked. Last vanquished by Zeus, her nazar ring declared indeed. What should Aeschyne bring with her to her flight to Olympus? The nazar ring or the feather comb? Duel Zeus? Pray for Hera?
Queen Hera cared. Queen Hera would understand. Queen Hera would not have wanted Zeus to have hurt her brother’s daughters. Aeschyne ripped the feather comb out of her keepsake cabinet. She lifted the back of her face veil up and stuck it behind her braided head.
The Orichalcum hook was not in its weapon cabinet. Hidden on Mount Olympus, Aeschyne remembered. Aeschyne looked at the Nocturnal Arms that floated over the moon pool. She clasped over the handle of the moonstone axe, but frost erupted over the metal and scalded her hand. Aeschyne attempted to pull the sister blades out next, but her hands were frostbitten once again. Biting her caution down, Aeschyne pushed through the aether ward to Mount Olympus and ran.
Through the river that flowed past Ephyra. Through the Rift of Thessaly, to the beach at the base of Mount Olympus. She could not fail, Aeschyne realised as she travelled. Aeschyne was a traitor now. All she could hope for was to side with the enemy and hope they bring her mercy. How pitiful was she, Aeschyne thought, to grovel at the feet of the enemy she had bitterly fought?
Let Prometheus laugh, Aeschyne thought. Let Prometheus revel in schadenfreude at her shattered faith. But Aeschyne could not remove Zeus herself. Zeus could not stay. Zeus could not stay. No matter how much Aeschyne hated herself for defying the Gods, Zeus could not stay.
The cry of a peafowl and the toll of a bell. A stream of cyan light pierced the nighttime sky and illuminated a crystal orb. A boon of Hera sat at the base of the mountain. Aeschyne ran as fast as she could, but she stopped. Aeschyne was surrounded. Prometheus, with his eagle perched up on his glove. Hesione, with her hand in her potion bag. Deucalion. Dora. Epimetheus. Heracles. Aeschyne stared as Heracles raised his olive wood club and crashed it onto the orb. Crystal shards, cyan energy, and cries of birds burst with every swing of his club. Aeschyne stared in shock as cyan light evaporated from the crystal shards until only transparent broken crystals laid in the snow.
Aeschyne was wrong in believing that Prometheus shall help her. She was alone. Aeschyne gritted her teeth and lunged a throw at Heracles’ armed wrist.
“I know,” whispered Prometheus as he caught her throw, as he looked into her eyes. “Your Holy Godmother is a wretch.”
Aeschyne pulled herself away and glared at Prometheus in the eye. “How dare you disrespect the protector of your wife and children…” but Aeschyne could not find that rage within herself anymore. Aeschyne recollected the fear Hera’s stepchildren felt towards her in confusion. As she looked into the rueful eyes of Prometheus, as she listened to Hera’s scorn of him… Aeschyne wondered. How right was Hera to hate him like so?
“Your supreme God is a monster,” Prometheus continued. Aeschyne stepped back. “Too hard you’ve laboured for these wicked Gods-”
“NO! He’ll repent! He’ll…”
But what redemption awaited for the sin that Zeus had done? What apology shall undo the pain of the dead? Was Zeus even sorry, the way he smirked at the sound of her nieces’ wailings? Upon the pitied, heartbroken look in Prometheus’ ruby eyes, Aeschyne remembered what Prometheus had always foretold. Zeus shall never be sorry for his sins.
“Sister.” Tears welled in Deucalion’s ocean blue eyes. “Zeus forced my daughters to bear his children.”
Aeschyne’s very heart turned to lead. The most powerful God of them all was a lustful, sadistic wretch. Yet the highest power of all was still Mount Olympus. The very ground flipped. Aeschyne’s knees collapsed. As everything turned dark, a pair of warm, strong arms caught her.