#and zeus is greedy when it comes to mortals

[captainkingsley]

ok. ok there's something here for this fic I'm planning of young James Howlett, going to his father in tears because I think I like boys and Victor told me I'm gonna go to hell for it. And his father deciding in that moment that his son's happiness is more important than whatever religious or cultural beliefs he was raised on — he reassures Jamie that he's fine, it's not hell he has to worry about, it's other people. be quiet, be safe, and if you find a man who makes you happy, bring him home to meet me

Except.

Except when James finally comes out (to everyone, to his people, the entire country, the gods), he gets sent to the pits of Tartarus. Not for the fact that he loves a man, but for the fact that the man he loves happens to be divine.

[thewriterwithnoplan]

THE TRAITOR'S SOULMATE (2/2)

Summary: Humans once had four legs, four arms, two heads, and two hearts. For humanity's hubris, Zeus struck them in two. You and Luke Castellan are determined to find your way back to each other, but before that can happen, there are things the two of you need to do.

[Part 2 to The Hero's Soulmate]

Soulmate AU: You meet the future version of your soulmate.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Word Count: 7378

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, I use the spelling 'mom' because the series is American but I - and I cannot stress this enough - am not American, she a long one.

A/N: I've loved reading your comments, thank you so much for all the support in part one. I hope you enjoy, because we all deserve a little Luke Castellan every now and then!

Masterlist

Amphitrite had been gifted a premonition and the world was all the worse for it. The dream had come from Apollo or perhaps the Oneiroi or whatever great heart pumped blood and Gods and monsters out into the world.

It did not matter to the Goddess from whom the vision came, for in this dream Amphitrite had watched her husband fall in love and sire a child to a mortal paramour. A precious boy that Poseidon might even one day love, with a taste for the colour blue and a heroism that would grow to rival his namesake. And for the Queen of the Seas, that simply would not do.

It would not be the child’s nor his mortal mother’s fault – she was not Hera after all – and so she would have to punish her husband for the blame would be his. But how was one to punish a King among Gods before his crime even came to be? Why to beat him at his own game, of course.

So, Amphitrite set out to sire her own demigod with the mortal man her husband would hate most. A devout catholic.

Amphitrite stayed with her mortal lover and their half-blood daughter until the girl was all but five.  Far longer than the greater Gods were wont to spend with their offspring. But what a precious babe she had bourn and what a traitorous husband she had back home.

But fate and prophecies and soulmates were such funny things. Inciting chaos. Inviting paradox. Introducing dangers untold.

It took Amphitrite all those years – though seemingly short in her immortality – to realise her fatal error. She had been the one to leave Poseidon. She had been the one to sire a child. She had been the one to drive her husband to the surface and his mortal. And so, the blame was hers to shoulder.

Amphitrite decided that she would be a self-fulfilling prophecy no longer. It was time to venture back below the surface.

In a last fit of guilt, she bestowed her first and final act of mercy unto her mortal lover. She told him everything.

When finally, she had gone back to the sea to reconcile with her husband, the catholic man took his turn to bestow his first and final act of mercy unto his young demigod child.

Against all the teachings of his faith. He abandoned his young daughter at Half-Blood Hill. And let the devil-spawn keep her life.

The Spirit of the Hudson River never did learn to like you. You with your greedy hands, snatching debris from its murky waters. You and your strange sea creature friends who would not dare brave such pollution were it not for your presence. Your pile of war spoils tossed aside like children’s toys. Your strange little bubble of air on the sandy floor of the river, where you stowed your treasures and slept bracketed by water. Were it not for the pollution that slopped against the edge of the river as if it were trying to escape you, the Hudson River Spirit might have chased you and your sea friends and your collection of trinkets out of his waters. But as it were, you made a strangely amicable tenant for a demigod. So, as long as you paid your dues the spirit let you keep your little underwater oasis.

For your first years living there, you made your way in New York City by selling lost things dredged from your river home. Bikes and old weaponry and tarnished jewellery and buckets of coins from across the world. You were careful and you coveted your few precious belongings, but with the rivers bounty, you rarely went hungry.

By the time you were fourteen, you found you could venture further into the city without as many questions. You had met an odd assortment of people whilst selling the lost and unloved things of the river; all who knew someone, who knew someone, who needed another set of hands and so you offered yours. You babysat and cleaned, worked in delis and sandwich shops, helped old women with their groceries and young families mend their clothes. A retired teacher gifted you packets of schoolwork and with little else to fill your hours under the river you took to learning. Your numbers came easier than letters and reading always gave you a hard time but the activities she gave you each time you tended to her balcony garden gave you something to do when the sounds of the city kept you up at night.

All the while you followed Percy Jackson from the recesses of the Hudson. Shuffling your little bubble and its blessedly dry treasures up and then back down the river as he was bounced listlessly from school to school. Watching over him as the mythosphere tried desperately to barge into his little mortal life. Feral harpies that tried to snatch him into the air, great snakes that tried to sneak through air vents and all manner of underworld-born sea creatures that sought to pull him below. You had wrestled and dismembered and slayed them all. Adding their feathers and scales and great weapons to your dragons-hoard.

You were sixteen when you finally knocked on Sally Jackson’s door to introduce yourself. You had spent weeks working yourself up to it, planning your outfit and then fussing over each piece. All your clothes had been gifts and were often a size too big or printed with some generic tagline like Spread peace not hate!; or made entirely from yarn that the old woman whose meals you prepped at the start of each week had gifted you after she had taught you how to crochet; or like the dress you wore now, were sown together from thrifted fabric scraps and embellished with pretty shells and baroque pearls. You had planned the time you would arrive down to the minute so that her oppressive husband would be out, but the hour would not be so late as to make an unexpected visit threatening. You had planned to keep Percy safe while you were away from him by entrusting your friends Clarence the Crab and Emily the Squid to supervise him for the evening.

What you had not planned for was the possibility that Sally Jackson would be the most lovely woman you had ever met. You had been struck dumb by it the moment she opened her door and greeted you with a kind smile. Couldn’t your mother have chosen a mortal as gentle as she to be your parent? Alas, the Gods had never done a thing for you.

“Can I help you, lovely?”

You tried not to burst into tears as you asked, “Mrs. Jackson?”

“Are you alright?” She opened the door wider, leant out and scanned the corridor behind you. “Is there something you need?”

“No ma’am. I’m here about your son, Percy. His father sent me.” A good ambiguous statement that would pique her curiosity but let on nothing about the Gods. Allowing you to spin your tale – that you were Percy’s long-lost step-sister, come to reconnect. 

“Poseidon?” Alas, the Gods had truly never done a thing for you. “Is something wrong? Is Percy, okay?”

“He’s fine Mrs. Jackson, I’ve been keeping him safe.” 

She scanned the hall behind you once more, “You best come in.”

Over a cup of tea, you told Sally Jackson everything.

You liked your home under the river. For lack of a better term, it allowed you to remain liquid. You could follow Percy wherever trouble took him. You could stay up until the city grew quiet for that brief moment before dawn. You could train with the Hudson River Spirit, even if he only entertained you because he enjoyed winning.

You liked your bed made out of stacked wood pallets and a mountain of blankets. You liked your wooden chest of draws stuffed full of trinkets and weapons and the precious few items you owned. You liked this place that you had carved out with your own two hands.

But you also liked your home in the Jackson household. Where there was always music playing. Where it was always warm and dry. Where there would always be some blue-ified food in the oven or blue candy in the mason jars by the sink.

It became your job in the summers to babysit Percy, to keep him away from Gabe and from danger while entertaining his endless need for motion. You took him to art galleries (which he hated) and aquariums (which he loved), to craft fairs (which he tolerated because he liked the things you made) and swimming pools (which he only liked when he won your swimming races).

“What even is a soulmate?” Percy had asked you one day at the park.

“The person with the other half of your soul,” You scrunched your nose up, “Or well, that's what people say.”

“You’re saying I’ve been walking around with half a soul?”

“I didn’t say I believed them,” You rattled your water bottle in front of his face until he took it. “Stay hydrated.”

He frowned at you, “You don’t believe in soulmates?”

“Of course I do, but it's a little more complicated than that, kid.” You took the water bottle back and played with the cap for a moment while you thought. “Think of it like this. You can have two different puzzles that are cut the same way, right? So all the pieces from one will fit with all the pieces from the other. But that doesn’t mean they belong together, the picture doesn’t come out quite right because even though the pieces fit, they don’t necessarily belong to the same puzzle. Maybe that’s what it was like for your mom, like she couldn’t find the pieces that made up her picture and so she went with the ones that fit at the time.”

“You don’t think my mom and dad were soulmates?”

“I never met your father.”

“But he’s your dad too.”

“He’s my mom’s husband. Maybe my mom and dad are soulmates.” Percy didn’t seem to like that answer.  “Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe your mom and my mom each have pieces that fit into your dad's puzzle but neither match his picture, or both. Maybe his picture is a year with your mom and a lifetime with mine and having you. Maybe he needs to collect all those little pieces at the right time when they’re the right shape or he’ll end up with a completely different picture at the end.”

“I kind of understand.” But he gave you a look that said he probably didn’t. “What picture are you making?”

You hid your smile behind the lip of your water bottle, “My soulmates about yay-high, pretty as a magazine cover with dimples and all. I’m collecting my puzzle pieces with you and your mom and this city so that I’ll have half of his picture.”

“If you know who he is, why don’t you just go find him now?”

“Still looking for some pieces, I guess.” You kicked a rock with the toe of your boot. “Souls are fragile. If you go rushing in and trying to jam the pieces in when they’re not shaped right just yet you could damage them.”

“What happens if you do that?”

“It’s probably harder to find each other in the next life. You’ll chip pieces away and your souls won’t fit right.” You shoved your hands into the pockets of your cardigan and pulled out a sandwich, you gave Percy the bigger half.

“Who taught you all this?”

“My mom used to tell me and well, I've thought about it a lot.” You tugged Percy by the back of his shirt so he didn't go stomping through a puddle, he glared. “But anyway, some people think it’s just fate. That you find your soulmate no matter what and it’s a perfect fit either way.”

“It would be easier that way.”

“Sometimes that’s just not how the story goes, kid.”

Percy thought that was the most important thing anyone had ever taught him, but he figured some of the other stuff you taught him came in handy too. You taught him the tricks you learned to work around your dyslexia. You taught him to skip stones and to not throw rocks at seagulls. You taught him to flip off the Empire State Building but only when his mom wasn’t around. You taught him to knit and do a cartwheel and make a good cup of tea to take his mother in the morning. You taught him to chew with his mouth shut and to sword fight with wrapping paper rolls. You taught him to braid hair and throw a punch and say all the swears in Ancient Greek.

And then one day, a Satyr came for Percy Jackson, and there was nothing left for you to teach. 

You wrote Sally a brief letter of warning, picked your way through seven years’ worth of belongings and collapsed your life into a backpack. You said goodbye to Clarence and Emily with a brief promise to visit, pushed a final wave of pollution from the waters and thanked the Hudson River Spirit for his hospitality. He gifted you sixteen perfect round pearls and insisted that he never wanted to see you again. You spent the bus ride to Long Island threading them into a necklace made of fishing wire, tying off each pearl with your teeth. 

It was a tentative tradition between demigod soulmates to exchange gifts upon their first meeting. So few and far between were the possessions of a half-blood that even the smallest bauble would likely mean the world. The practice had died out some over the centuries as the Gods received fewer offerings from mortals and turned to their children for sacrifices. Gift-giving to your soulmate as a demigod became all but synonymous with spitting at the feet of the divine and loudly proclaiming you would make offerings to your soulmate instead. A pearl necklace would be an excellent final addition to the collection of small gifts you had assembled over the years. Let the Gods weep at your feet and beg for scraps if they needed them so much, you would ignore them just as they had ignored you. 

You arrived at Camp far sooner than you might have liked, a few hours past mid-day when hopefully the rest of your ilk would be occupied with meaneal chores and activities. You considered waiting at the crest of the hill for someone to notice you only to find a pine tree planted firmly at its peak where you might have stood. Instead, you make the alarmingly easy trek down to the Big House.

“Chiron!” He had always been your favourite of the two men, currently sat on the porch drinking juice and playing cards. 

“Yes, my girl?” He barely spared you a glance as he shuffled his cards between his weathered hands. He stilled for a moment and then tossed his head back in the way a horse might toss its mane. “My dear!” 

You raised a hand, halfway between a salute and a wave, “Nice to know I haven’t been totally forgotten.”

“Au contraire.” Mr. D stuck his nose up at you. “Which one are you again?” 

“The little one that went missing some seven years ago,” Chiron stood as you climbed the stairs onto the porch. “How are you, my dear? Where have you been?”

“Shouldn’t you be at Yancy Academy?”

Mr. D’s eyes turned sharp in the way that had once made your friends whisper that some days, he was more maniac than man , “And how do you know about that little girl?”

“Percy Jackson is at Yancy,” You smiled at him, all teeth, “How did you think he survived long enough for your baby satyr to find him?” 

“You have been protecting young demi-gods?” Chiron asked wearily. 

“Percy Jackson is a full-time job, I’m afraid,” You tugged at the strap of your backpack, praying you could keep control of the conversation. You had a lot of time under the river to think and this was one of many things you had spent countless hours mulling over. Weighing and considering what story you would tell them – to tell the truth of both your parentage and put Percy in harm's way or to lie and balance your life on its sharp edge. “I found him in Manhattan, he was like a magnet for mythological activity. By the time I’d had enough of rebelling and wanted to come back to camp, I was protecting him from attacks every other week. He wouldn’t have lasted a month. I came back as soon as I could.” 

No matter how many times you played it out in your head, the lies won every time. 

“Kids.” Mr. D threw back the last of his juice.

“Perhaps you should settle back into the Hermes Cabin, dear.” Chiron smiled down at you, the corners of his eyes pinched, “You’ve given myself and Mr. D much to talk about. We’ll settle the issue of your paperwork tomorrow.”

“Of course.” You rustled through your bag, digging up a palm sized statuette that you set onto the table. “Before I forget, I brought you a gift Mr. D.”

“A toy,” He snatched it up. “Oh joy.”

“It’s you, as the mortals’ see you. It’s from the gift shop at the Met.”

“How kind of you, my dear.” Chiron softened, and you watched as even Mr. D’s temper seemed to ease, his hands gentle around the gift as he admired it. 

An unseeing piece of plastic for the God who served as no more than a silent observer over the affairs of the camp. Let him choke on his ego, you thought as you left the pair to their discussion. 

Cabin 11 was blessedly empty when you entered, but your old bunk was not. A pile of clothes was thrown haphazardly across the bedspread. You snatched a sleeping bag and a lumpy pillow from the storage closet and threw them down with your bag. If you could not have the bunk that had been yours at twelve, you would claim the corner that had been yours at five. As you shook out the sleeping bag and pulled out your belongings, you tried not to think of your bed of blankets under the river or Sally Jackson’s couch. 

Instead you turned your mind to the Big House and the conversation that was no doubt happening within. 

You had constructed a perfect image, if you did say so yourself. Grown in ways Mr. D could not have predicted but Chiron would insist he had foreseen. Still a rebellious young woman in the mortal sense, with your scuffed leather boots and ripped jeans. But the parts that had screamed ‘insubordination’ to the Gods were neatly tucked away. Your twin knives strapped to your forearms under the billowing sleeves of your crocheted top, your vicious tongue caged behind a sweet grin, your once sharp stare softened at the edges.

Once you had fashioned yourself so that the Gods could not paint you as a hero, now you fashioned yourself so that they might forget you were an enemy. 

Let Chiron think you were a misunderstood wayward girl scout come home from her self-imposed quest. Let Mr. D think you were a stupid girl who had seen the world beyond the Gods’ protection and finally accepted that you needed them. Let them all think wrong. You had left to protect your brother and returned for one reason only. 

“You’re here.” 

You turned, and there he was, “Luke Castellan.” 

He opened his mouth and then closed it, limbs jerking slightly as if he wasn’t sure whether to move toward you or stay put. He was almost certain you could hear the way his pulse was racing, his heartbeat clanging wildly in his chest as he searched desperately for a suave reply, but everything else seemed lack lustre when you said his name like that.

Your face twisted into something like anger and for a moment he thought he’d messed it all up before your lips curled and you practically spat, “I do like your scar.”

And then he was laughing at you, wild and bewildered and not the least bit contained. Before long you were laughing too, neither of you quite sure what was funny, just so wholly relieved as your chests were flooded with wonder and warmth.

It felt like fireworks and popping candy. Just as he had promised all those years ago. You resisted the urge to throw up on his Converse. 

You might have been crying and he might been too but you weren’t exactly sure because one moment you were both laughing at nothing and the next he was on the floor with you. He held you like he had never held a single thing in his life, like he was lost at sea and you were the only solid thing for miles. He tucked your head under his chin and sucked in great forced breaths that you could feel beneath your cheek. Because he was warm and there and real. And that meant the last seven years, the better part of your life, hadn’t been for nothing. 

 You and Luke make your way to dinner side by side. You had spent the afternoon rambling about your lives, about your meetings with your future selves, about your home under the river, about his responsibilities as a camp counsellor and yours as your brother’s keeper. He told you about Annabeth and Thalia and the rest of his siblings, you told him about your parents and Sally Jackson and your sea friends. You gave him his necklace which he lets you fix in place at the base of his throat – you do not spend a moment too long running your hand up the back of his neck and through his curls. 

He had been almost bashful when he gifted you a watch that matched his, inlaid with twin fragments of mother of pearl taken from the same shell – kind of like your soul had been, he had said. You swear you’ve never owned anything as precious. You let him strap it to your wrist as he tells you about spending a summer diving for it in the lake. And then softly, tentatively, he tells you about his quest.

Luke could have cried from the way you were looking at him alone, so very gently, like you could cradle him with your gaze alone. At a loss for words, you simply whispered, “I am so proud of you.”

His grip is iron-clad and you tell your next story with your face pressed into the side of his neck, pretending you can’t feel him shaking softly. 

When you make your way to dinner you’re both glowing with the soft exhaustion of emotion. You all but lean against one another as you collect your goblets and fill your plates.

The other campers steer clear of you, content to leave Luke to chauffeuring the new kid around. You count yourself lucky, it was only a matter of time until one of the older campers recognised you.

You were almost to the end of the Hermes table – that perfect spot at the end where you might just have a chance of holding a private conversation after dinner – when Chiron interrupted you. 

“Mr. Castellan, I see you’ve acquainted yourself with our newly returned camper.”

“That’s my job, sir.” You tried not to stare at the crooked smile he flashed the centaur. 

“Perhaps you ought to show her how to make an offering,” Chiron says pointedly, “She’s been away for a long time, and it’s your responsibility to treat her as you would any other incoming Camper.”

Luke turned to you, his boyish grin still charming but the mirth leaking out of his eyes, “Of course. Do you remember how it’s done?” 

“I do. Just not a lot of food to be spared in the mortal world.” 

You squinted, the corners of your mouth pulled up in what Chiron would likely mistake for sheepishness. But Luke could see it in your eyes. How your anger had made you pointy in all the places someone your age ought to be soft. He wondered how all the jagged edges of you would feel against all the jagged edges of him. He thought maybe if the two of you were careful, you could make something smooth as sea glass and twice as pretty, together.

You dump a clump of mashed potatoes into the fire with an unconcerned flick of your fork. Luke lops part of his own meal on top of yours, you glare enviously at the reasonable portion he had left on his plate. You hoped the food would burn at the bottom of the braiser. 

“Sorry, sir.” You mocked Luke. He stuck his tongue at you once Chiron had turned his back. 

You hurried to snag the seat at the end of his table, sliding into place across from each other. You flounder for a moment, wondering whether to draw your legs as far under your seat as they will go or bask in the gentle brush of his knee against his leg. You settle for the latter and try not to evaporate under his gaze, as he stares at you even as you start eating.

Luke realised he’d spent too long staring when you all but groaned, “Don’t tell me I have to sacrifice my dinner to you too.” 

He flashed you a grin, then tried to say as nonchalantly as possible,“Is that why you left? So you could enjoy a proper meal every once and a while?”

You stared at him for a long while, “You, future you, told me to leave, to find my brother.”

“Why would I do that? If you had stayed at Camp–”

“That’s almost exactly what I said to you.” You pushed your food around as you stared at a point just beyond his head, he thought for a moment that he could see the neurons firing behind your eyes, like a hundred tiny zaps of lightning, “But I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. And I think you were right to send me away.”

“I don’t think I’ll be hearing that very often.” He dodged the pea you fling at him with a grin. 

“I think maybe if I don’t leave, I won’t become this me or do the things I’ve done and maybe that’s important for us or our future or some past you rewrote by telling me to leave.”

“Seems overly complicated.” 

“I think it’s supposed to be complicated,” You couldn’t help but admire the quiet skill with which he wielded his cutlery, “If it were easy, we would find each other in every universe.”

He paused, knife aloft, “You don’t want to find each other in every universe?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” You speared a leaf of spinach onto your fork to hide your scowl behind as you said, “The Gods have made it this way to keep us separated.”

“We’re together now.” 

“Which means they lost.”

Luke watched you for a drawn out heartbeat, then leaned over to transfer the perfect squares of meat he’d been cutting onto your plate. 

You took a long moment to chew before you said, “So, your plan to send me after Percy worked.”

“I thought it was your plan.”

“I forgot to ask you whose plan it was.”

“I say it’s your plan.” He took a long pull from his goblet that left his lips tinted red. 

“It doesn’t matter what you think.” You passed him a napkin before he could ask, “It’s what you will think.”

“Sure, Precious.” He smothers a laugh into the napkin at the way you scrunch your nose at him, “You know, because you're so protective of your food. Like Gollum with the ring.”

“That’s the stupidest explanation for a pet name I’ve ever heard.” But you’re damn near head down on the table as you laughed. “I definitely got the smarter half of our soul.”

“Then it was definitely your plan.”

You’ve still got a hand pressed to your face to conceal your smile when you say, “What about when I meet you? Any words of wisdom?”

“Try not to fall for me. I can tell you’re pretty charmed but it’s really not appropriate. I’m seventeen, and you’re what? Twenty-four?” 

You launched your bread roll at him. You’re twice as incensed when he catches it whilst looking directly at you, “Asshole.”

“Smartass. See, two can play that game.”

Luke can’t help but think you’re just as pretty sneering as you are smiling, like no expression no matter how ugly could detract from your beauty. Maybe you’re like him, he scarcely dared to hope. Maybe you’re something better, another part of him whispered. The way you talk about the Gods and turn your nose up at them, and play their game only when it suits you. 

You weren’t vengeful in the way he was. You weren’t the spitting vicious thing the Camp had liked to pretend you were when you weren’t around to prove otherwise. You were worse and better and everything he needed. You were a storm on the horizon, a snake coiled tight. You were better than just angry. You were disillusioned. Not a product of juvenile resentment but true wrath born of awareness. Not the wild foaming-at-the-mouth kind that he had imagined when he had first heard your name. But the dark carefully contained kind he had seen in the face you would grow into.

This, Luke thought, you were the start of everything.

It’s some weeks later when you stick your hands through the grating of the bunk above Luke as leverage to lean over him and croon, “Up and at ‘em, Pretty Boy.”

He pushed his face out of his pillow, curls sticking up at odd angles as he looked at you half-asleep, “What?”

“Remember? Training?”

“No,” He scrubbed sleep from his eyes, “What did you call me?”

“Sickly.” 

“I don’t think that was it.” He propped his head up on a fist as he smiled at you sleepily. 

It was so disgustingly cute that you had to turn your back when you said, “Just meet me there.” 

Luke’s freshly showered and holding an apple core when he deigns to join you in the forest. He tossed the apple at you and you caught it without thinking. You fake gag at him as you throw it further into the forest. 

You wiped your hands against his shoulder as you say, “I’m not sure if an apple core counts but that was dangerously close to an Ancient Greek proposal, Castellan.”

“I got hungry.” He shrugged. You squared off across the clearing, stretching as you warmed yourselves up for the ensuing sparring match. 

“You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“Is this you rejecting me?” He landed an open hand on his chest and staggered backward. “You wound me, Precious!”

“Was that you proposing? Because I’m,” You wiped your hand again for good measure, scrunching your nose up, “Disgusted.”

“You would be honoured if I had just proposed to you.” 

“You should be nicer to me.”

“And go easy on you just because you’re my soulmate? Unlikely.”

“Because, asshole, I’m the one who got you out of chores this morning, or have you forgotten already. You seemed rather grateful for your little sleep-in.”

He unsheathed his sword and twirled it round in his hand, “You’re a bad influence.” 

“Like you weren’t ready to worship the ground I walk on when I told Chiron you needed to get my training up to speed.” 

“Do you want me to tell you, you’re brilliant?” He pointed his sword toward you with that grin that made you want to hold him down just so you could admire it longer. “You’re brilliant.”

“You’re stalling.” You pull your knives out, one from your boot, the other from your belt. You miss your old clothes with their pretty sleeves and their personality, your camp shirt seems a poor trade in comparison. 

“Stalling? Me?” Luke scoffed. “Never!”

“Don’t you have a counsellor meeting at half-past?”

“I do, so please don’t feel bad when you lose. I only have half an hour to wrap this up. You understand.”

“Who’s fault is that Mr. Just-five-more-minutes?”

He gasped in mock offence and lunged forward, his sword swinging at you in a great arch. You leapt back, out of his range, then ducked low and rushed toward him. Luke was quick, in a viciously smooth move he swept his sword at you again. You brought your knives together, bracing as the impact ricocheted up your arms. Admittedly, you were at a great disadvantage given that you were reluctant to throw a knife at Luke’s head – even though he’d demonstrated an impressive ability to swipe your wayward throws out of the air – and that he had an additional several feet of reach on you.

Luke feigned to the right, you lashed out at his left side and narrowly avoided his sword as it came down at you. He whistled slowly as both of you backed up to circle each other for a moment. 

“You’ve got moves, I’ll give you that.” 

And so the dance went on. Luke struck, you parried or slipped out of his blade's path with a flourish. You struck, Luke swung his sword and slipped around your blows. Finally, you found the chink in his precious armour. He fell back to his right foot when he deflected a blow. You jerked forward. You jabbed the knife clutched in your left hand toward him as you moved in with the right. Just as you hooked a foot around the back of his leg, Luke’s sword made contact with your left shoulder slicing through sleeve and skin. Luke fell backward with a sharp hiss, his sword flying to the side.

In the end you had laid him out flat in twenty minutes. Luke Castellan had spent the last seven years fighting to win. You had spent them fighting to survive. You supposed it didn’t hurt that the greatest swordsman to enter Camp Half-Blood in nearly three centuries was reluctant to let anything sharp or pointed anywhere near you. You secretly thought he might have been going easy on you for being his soulmate after all. You collapsed on the forest floor beside him, your chest heaving to draw in oxygen. 

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” Luke huffed. 

“Orange isn’t really my colour.”

He turned to you with a wink, “Oh but it is.” 

You wave your hand through the air.

“I’ve gotten very good at putting broken things back together over the years.” He tried not to look at the line of stitching that ran from the ankle of your jeans to the rips at your knee. You tried not to look at his cheek. Instead you reached out and trailed your hands across his necklace where the pearls sat snuggly at the base of his throat. 

“You’re wonderful.” He brushed his knuckles down your shoulder and they came away red. “Even covered in blood you’re the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

You groaned, “Sweetness, you can’t just say–”

“You call me Sweetness when you visit me.” He whispered it like it was his greatest secret. You traced up his throat to his cheek and pressed your thumb into his dimpled cheek. “You’re still being wonderful. I can’t think when you’re–”

“Wonderful?”

“Okay, Smartass.” He sighed up at the sky, then pulled the both of you to your feet, “Enough lounging, we need to get that cut checked.” 

You let him dust the dirt from you and resheath your knives, one in your boot, the other in your belt. Silently revelling in the gentle way he tugs you this way and that. You were well on your way to the infirmary, shoulders bumping and fingers just barely brushing, before he spoke again.

“Where does it come from? The nickname.”

“Sweetness?” 

He looked away from you and squinted off into the distance, as if you were suddenly too bright to look at, “Yeah.”

“My mom used to tell me this story about meeting her soulmate. She probably meant Poseidon, but at the time I thought it was about my dad,” The back of Luke’s hand bumped into yours again, his fingers catching yours, his gaze resolutely ahead but you were definitely holding hands. “She said it felt like swallowing lightning and gorging yourself on popping candy. Like sweetness.”

“You like popping candy?”

“It’s my favourite.” You gave him a queer look as if to say, it’s not yours, you utter heathen?

Luke laughed at you all the way to the Apollo Cabin as he listed all the reasons it was the sub-par candy option. Nonetheless, when you emerge from the infirmary, he unloads a fistful of little packets he’d pinched from the candy bowl when the Apollo kids’ hadn’t been looking.

“Who has sub-par candy options now, Sweetness?” You teased, your mouth crackling merrily.

“Keep calling me that and you can have all the terrible candy you want.”

“Try some,” You shoved a packet toward him, because if he kept saying silly things like that and looking at you the way he was you were liable to do or say something equally as stupid. “You’ve got half my soul, maybe it’s our favourite.”

“I don’t think they had popping candy when we had one soul,” He flicks the packet held between your fingers. “And aren’t you the one who says we’re puzzle pieces not halves?”

“You have been listening to me!”

“Hard not to.”

“Asshole.” You flashed your teeth at him.

“Smartass.” He said, but the bite wasn’t there. He was watching you again, in that way he did sometimes before he said something stupid that made you want to throw yourself in the lake or run back to Manhattan or do something equally as stupid, like kiss him. “You–”

You twisted your hand in the front of his shirt and jerked him toward you, the little sachet crinkling in your fist. For a heartbeat, you were both silent, an inch away and staring as if you could will the other to be the one to press forward. But then he closed his eyes and Luke Castellan was kissing you. Like lightning and popping candy. With all the elegance of two lovestruck teenage fools and all the heat of two people who knew they had all the time in the world but still couldn’t bear to waste a second of it. His hand held you by the chin and then splayed lightly across your cheek and tucked hair softly behind your ear. You were only just reaching for the mess of curls at the back of his head when someone wolf whistles.

“My favourite.” Luke grinned, licked his lips and then turned. Hands stuffed in his pockets and a big stupid grin stretched across his face, as he shouted at you, “Stay out of trouble.”

You flip off the Aphrodite kid who’d whistled at you, and hurried back to the Apollo Cabin. You and Luke Castellan were going to need a lot more popping candy. 

You’re in the lake, encased in an air bubble, sprawled out side by side with your backs against the sand, when Luke tells you what he’s done. That mere weeks before your arrival he had done the unthinkable. He had robbed the King of the Gods blind and betrayed half the Pantheon in doing so. You weren't sure whether to laugh or cry.

You had simply laid there, silently, for what had felt like aeons to Luke but maybe that had only been because he had to keep reminding himself not to hold his breath. He wasn’t drowning. You weren’t going to turn him in. He hadn’t just blown his whole plan and his life with his soulmate in one fell swoop. He just had to keep breathing and wait for you to say something. He thinks that maybe your mother had passed on some divine knack for diplomacy as Queen of the Sea with the way you seem to turn the issue of his betrayal over and over in your head. 

After a while, you reach your arm toward the bubble and the sky. For a brief, terrifying moment, Luke thinks you’re going to pull the lake down on him. When you don’t Luke spends another infinite second wondering whether he would just let you do it. 

He tosses the thought aside and focuses on the coin weaving between your knuckles. Like magic, it appears and disappears around the bends of your fingers but it wasn't real magic, just you fidgeting. He pressed his lips together and tried not to think about you at the bottom of the Hudson River, flipping your coin and turning over the issue of your soulmate and your brother and the camp you’d left behind. What is it you had said? You’d had plenty of time to think about those things. 

Maybe that's what you need now – time. He’s about to offer it to you, offer to swim his way back to shore so you can think, even if he'd probably drown on the way. He’d give you all the time in the world if he had it. 

But then you finally speak, the golden drachma rolling between your fingers, “If you hurt my brother, soulmate or not, I will kill you.”

“I am your soulmate.” He insisted as the implication made his skin itch.

“You are.” Your smile was so gentle it almost felt sad. “So you understand that my love for him comes before my hatred of the Gods. If you have put him in danger wit–”

“We get married.” He blurted. “We have a future. I woke you, when you visited me. That must mean I win.”

“It means, if that’s the path we’re even on, if those people are even the versions of us that we become… maybe you don’t hurt Percy.”

“I won’t.” He swore and you weren’t sure how to ignore the half of your soul that lies so sweetly. “I wouldn’t.”

“Maybe.” You swallowed like you’d been chewing glass your whole life, and someone had finally offered you something substantial to sink your teeth into. “Maybe if we leave now, there’s a world in which I don’t have to pick between my blood and my soul.”

Luke was quiet for a long moment, “We could recruit him. You said it yourself, he’ll be more powerful than any of us.”

“He’s twelve.”

“He’s the son of Poseidon.”

“He’s twelve.”

“You were twelve when you left to protect him.”

“And look how that turned out,” Your grin was brittle, but he swore you were still the loveliest creature he’d ever laid eyes on. “I’m sat here planning to betray everything I was raised to follow.”

“You’re going to follow me?”

Your eyes traced the shape of his jaw, his nose, his scar. You looked pained, “I fear I would follow you into much worse, Luke Castellan.”

“I’m trying to lead you to something better.” He reached for your hand, took the drachma from your fingers, and pressed a slow, soft kiss to your palm. He smiled and there were dimples in his cheeks and tears in his eyes as he whispered, “We can try for better.”

“Leave Percy.” You pressed your fingers to his cheek, “Let him come to camp, let him join us when he’s ready.”

“You’re sure he’ll join us?”

“He will, I know it. We just need to let him see the Gods’ apathy for himself.” And you sighed. Luke wondered how many lifetimes your souls had seen, how many times you had searched for each other, how many times you had been torn apart. You sound ancient when you say, “You and I have seen more than enough.”

He turned his head and whispered in the scarce distance between you, “What do you propose?” 

“We leave. As soon as anyone catches on, we take anyone who agrees with us and flee.” You brought his hand to your mouth and pressed your lips to his knuckles firmly, “We can plot your revenge and plan my new world on the way.”

Luke feels ancient when he promises, “Okay, on the way then.”

But he swears, as you lean forward and kiss him, that no matter how many times you do it this lifetime or in all the lifetimes until this story – of you and Luke Castellan – became ancient, it would still never stop feeling like the first time.

Like lightning and popping candy.

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[shanastoryteller]

Hi, I'm a huge fan of your Gods and Monsters series but I had a question: have you already written the piece where Aphrodite and Hephaestus fall in love? Bc I could have sworn there was one about that, but I Cannot find it so now I'm wondering if that's one of the things that isn't written/posted yet. No pressure either way, I just wanted to check!

Aphrodite is named the goddess of love and beauty by Hera, the queen of the gods herself, and is given a gleaming throne of pristine ivory in the pantheon.

Aphrodite is named the goddess of love, and many take that as an invitation.

She understands quickly that Hera has not only dictated her domain, but also offered Aphrodite her protection, however oblique. Hera’s power on her tempers greedy hands and greedy eyes, making them ask for what in other circumstances they might simply take, and she resents that it’s something she should be grateful for.

The sea that bore her isn’t even an option anymore. She feels Poseidon’s gaze on her like a snail crawling across her skin, leaving oozing evidence of all the places it’s been. She thinks that her mother would help her, but she does not know.

Amphitrite made her and left her and sent her to the pantheon, full of danger that she does not understand.

She’s known the sea and the sky but worries about venturing from Mount Olympus, where distance from Hera’s influence might embolden some of her suitors.

She is a daughter of Zeus and Amphitrite. Power comes to her as easily as breathing, but she has no wish to test that power against gods with far more experience than she.

Hestia’s fire is always warm and soft and no one dares approach her while she’s in its light. Aphrodite forces herself to stay in the oppressive heat far past the point of comfort, staying closer to the flame than anyone besides the hearth goddess herself.

“So you’re who everyone is talking about.”

She startles, turning, and is first faced with a broad, tanned chest, then lifts her gaze further to look into a face with dark amber eyes and hair as long as her own. There’s blood splatter along his neck and unease curls within her stomach.

“I can’t stay,” he continues, looking her over. She appreciates that he doesn’t linger too long in certain areas and looks her in the eye after. It’s a low bar, perhaps, but many fail to clear it. “You impressed my mother, which isn’t easy.”

“Lord Ares,” she greets. Hera only has one child – well, two, but only one that ever ventures onto Olympus.

She should have guessed sooner. He looks so much like Zeus, except for Hera’s eyes clear in his face.

He waves dismissively. “None of that. We’re equals, aren’t we?”

Not really. The beloved child of the king and queen of the gods, the god of war, someone who does not even sweat in the heat of Hestia’s flame. And her.

“I suppose,” she answers. “How can I help you, Ares?”

“I just wanted to talk,” he says. “Rumor has it that you haven’t left Olympus. You may be a goddess of the pantheon on my mother’s word, but you have to cultivate worshippers just the same. They know you, but they do not what you will do.”

Neither does she.

“Can I go with you?” she asks impulsively.

It’s a stupid request. If Ares wants to overpower her, he will, and there won’t be anything she can do about it.

But he’s Hera’s son. That has to mean something.

“A battlefield isn’t a place for love,” he says, which isn’t a refusal.

“Of course it is,” she says, taken aback. “Otherwise what are they fighting for?”

Ares stares at her for a long moment. She refuses to do anything besides meet his gaze.

Finally, he says, “I can’t tell if you’re naïve or I’m cynical.”

“Love starts wars, but it ends them too,” she says. Maybe she is naïve, when she’s never even met a mortal herself, but with power over a domain comes knowledge of it too. “If not for love, why do men so desperately want peace?”

“Love means peace then?” he asks.

There is something heavy in that question, something she doesn’t understand, and it causes her to hesitate. But in the end she says, “Yes,” because it’s the only answer that can be true and she wants to be truthful to someone.

Ares holds her gaze then says, “You can come with me, if you want. It won’t be pretty.”

“Then perhaps they can use a goddess of beauty,” she says, excitement pulling her lips into a grin.

He shakes his head, but offers her his hand, and she takes it.

~

Under Ares’s protection, she feels as if she can finally breathe.

Aphrodite doesn’t know if Ares is aware that he is protecting her, since it’s less something he does and more something that is achieved through him existing, but she doubts the son of Hera is a dull man. That doesn’t seem like the sort of thing that the queen would tolerate.

Gods and nymphs and other manner of creatures still approach her, but all it takes is for her to hurry back to Ares’s side for them to abandon their pursuit. She’s not sure if it’s his parentage, his domain, or just the striking figure he makes on the battlefield, but they don’t follow her when she goes to him.

But she is not always with him.

Athena corners her on the city path. Aphrodite meets the goddess’s grey eyed gaze squarely. “You’re causing too much trouble.”

She’d seemed nice when Aphrodite first met her in the pantheon, but after Hera gifted her her domain, that kindness hasn’t resurfaced. She doesn’t take it personally, although she does wonder at its absence.

Athena, like Aphrodite, is a daughter of Zeus that has escaped Hera’s wrath through the virtue of being motherless.

Aphrodite is not motherless, precisely, but no one can know of her connection to Amphitrite, and it’s not like her mother stuck around long after bringing her into this world anyway.

“Ares said he doesn’t mind,” she says.

“Of course he doesn’t,” she sneers, looking her up and down derisively. “Everyone is talking about you and pursing you and nothing else is getting done.”

She draws her shoulders back. “That’s not my fault.”

Athena shrugs, not willing to say it is outright but clearly comfortable with implying it.

“What do you want me to do about it?” she asks, and knows it’s a mistake as soon as it leaves her mouth.

Athena doesn’t miss a beat. “Put everyone out of their misery and get married. They’ll cool off and get back to work if you’re ineligible, even if only in name.”

She’s not a goddess of loyalty, but the implication still stings. She’s been going through all this effort to avoid either bedding or offending everyone, after all. “I can’t just marry someone.”

“Why not? Hera will probably even officiate it, considering the interest she’s taken in you,” she says.

Before Aphrodite can respond, Ares appears at her side, slipping out of air as easily as taking a step. He’s covered in viscera and for a moment she puzzles over his newly red hair before realizing it’s soaked in blood. She doesn’t even want to know how that happened.

“Hello Athena,” he says brightly. “It’s so rare to see you outside of a library, we should really catch up-”

She disappears mid eyeroll.

Ares grins. “What did you do to her?”

“Thank you,” she says first, then, “I have no idea. She’s so angry. Is she not well liked in the pantheon?”

He shrugs. “Depends what you mean by liked. She makes a lot of enemies, but she’s not that bad. She gets frustrated a lot because she thinks she’s smarter than everyone around her.”

“Is she?” Aphrodite asks.

“Usually, yeah,” he looks around then bends down to whisper in her ear, careful to angle his filthy body away from her, “Hestia says that when she sprung from Father’s head, she took all his intelligence with her. Mom says that’s giving him too much credit.”

She laughs before she can think not to, then claps her hand over her mouth, as if Zeus is standing around the corner ready to smite her for mocking him. He is the king of the gods. Maybe he is always watching.

“It’s alright,” he says warmly, “just don’t repeat it where he can hear it. Or Athena. She’d throw a fit at the implication that her intelligence is anything but her own.”

If she ever decides to invite trouble rather than avoiding it, that seems like an excellent way to do it. “Are you okay? That looks messy.”

“Battle’s won, for now,” he says casually, rolling back his shoulders and wincing at the motion. “I’ve got some time before another one calls me there. I could use a good soak. Want to meet my brother?”

“Which one?” she asks even though she already know the answer. Of all his siblings, Ares claims only one of them.

“You don’t have to play dumb when we’re alone,” he says, which is suitably stunning that when he holds out his filthy hand, she doesn’t think to clean it before taking it. She hadn’t thought he’d noticed. “Come on.”

There’s the strange rushing sensation of being pulled along rather than moving herself. They’re in someplace dark, compared to the outside, and it takes her several seconds to adjust to the low lighting.

Everything glitters.

There’s shining metal twisted into exquisite shapes and liquid gold dripping like fondue and even the walls themselves shimmer in the light of the magma, the mica flickering silver.

There is a man with deep, dark skin and narrowed amber eyes. He has broad shoulders and a tapered waist and as her gaze drops even further, she sees the golden legs supporting him below the knee, as delicate and beautiful as all strange things scattered around his workshop.

“I hope that’s not yours,” the man says.

He has a nice voice. It’s low and yet it almost echoes around them. It takes her a moment to process what he’s said, and her confusion lasts only until Ares’s lips twist into a not quite smile and he replies, “It never is,” and she realizes he’s talking about the blood and worse covering Ares.

She wonders at her place here, what to do or how to act around this man surrounded by beautiful things who doesn’t even look at her.

Ares pulls his hair from its braid and blood splatters on the floor. “I’m going for a dip. This is Aphrodite. Be nice. Aphrodite, this is my brother, Hephaestus.”

“Goddess,” Hephaestus murmurs, inclining his head.

She returns the gesture, trying to untangle the strange frown and the look in his eye. It’s not like Athena’s anger but it doesn’t exactly seem friendly either. She’s still pondering it when Ares’s words catch up with her. “Take a dip where? There’s no-”

She turns to see Ares slipping into a vat of lava, fully clothed. The blood and dirt and everything else is burned away, along with every stitch of clothing he’d been wearing. He tilts his head back into the magma to give his hair the same scouring treatment.

“Water,” she finishes faintly.

“It never gets any less disconcerting,” Hephaestus says. The strange tone is gone and when she turns back to him, he’s smiling.

He has a nice smile.

“What are you making?” she asks. “Are you the god of creation?”

She’s said the wrong thing again and she’s aware of it as soon as his amusement dims. She desperately wants to take it back, to say something different, but it’s too late. “I am the god of nothing.”

“People pray to you,” she says. “I have seen them.”

Her temples are all still being constructed but several of his already exist.

“Mortals pray to lots of things,” he answers, going back to tinkering. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yet,” she says. He survived being thrown from Olympus and being raised in the underworld and now he makes things he still hasn’t told her about. “When they pray to you, what do they pray for?”

“Same thing they pray to every god for,” he answers. She doesn’t say anything and he sighs. “It’s not exciting. Hotter ovens. Faster chariots. Sharper spears. My brother’s a better candidate for that one.”

Aphrodite turns to Ares, but finds him curled against the edge of the crevice, the lava lapping at his shoulders as he sleeps with his head tipped back.

“Heat always knocks him out. Hestia used to hold him as she sat it front of her fire.”

This time she knows it’s the wrong thing to say before she says it, but she can’t stop herself from asking, “How do you know? I thought that you didn’t come to Olympus.”

“Didn’t,” he echoes, “is a soft way to put it, when it’s can’t.”

Even nymphs sneak their way up the mountain. A god with temples, even a minor one, should be able to walk freely across Olympus. Then again, Hera insured he wouldn’t walk freely anywhere.

Or tried to. His shimmering gold calves are in defiance to that.

He clears his throat then says, “She told me. Ares badgered me into setting up a hearth in the center of the volcano, even though arguably the whole thing is a hearth, but,” he pauses. “She visits it, sometimes.”

Aphrodite is impressed. “I thought she never left her own hearth.”

“Any hearth is her hearth,” he says, shrugging.

He’s sidestepping her, but she’s brought up enough sensitive topics for now. “What are you making?”

“Nothing useful,” he says ruefully, looking around his workshop. “If I wanted to get more followers, I’d focus on making things people can use. A lot of these are godly tools – only we can use them effectively.”

“Will you show me?” she insists. “They’re beautiful.”

His lips part, his dark eyes catching hers, and there’s a breathless moment where neither of them move. Then he turns and says, “Sure, come with me,” and she follows behind him, watching the smooth gait of his handcrafted legs.

~

Next time she’s on Olympus, she goes to Hera to ask her advice.

Aphrodite is currently under both her and her son’s protection. This isn’t a decision it’s politically smart of her to make on her own.

She waits until Zeus has left. His absence tends to put Hera in a foul mood, considering what he’s likely to be doing out of her sight, but it’s worth that to make sure that they’re not overheard. Aphrodite doesn’t think that any advice Zeus gives will be in her self interest.

Hera’s might not be either, but so far whatever she’s doing for her own self interest has been beneficial to Aphrodite, and that’s enough for her.

She bows and offers her a bouquet of lilies that she’d picked herself, each one a bright orange reddish hue and perfectly in bloom. Hera reaches out to touch a petal, but pulls back and says, “Weave them into my hair while we speak.”

Aphrodite can’t help herself from being touched. Hera always does her own hair, not even allowing her servants to touch it. She delicately combs out Hera’s curls, giving her hair waves to match the curve of the lilies’ petals. Aphrodite tells her what Athena said to her, then waits.

“She’s right,” Hera says. “As the goddess of love and beauty, you’re inherently desirable. Until you make your own desires known, others can decide what they are, and decide that they qualify. Marriage at least sets your standards.”

Aphrodite frowns. “So you think I should marry?”

She shrugs. “Gods like to pretend that beauty is cheap and love is something bought.” Suddenly, Hera’s appointment of her domain makes a little more sense. “But if that were true, they wouldn’t be pursuing you so ardently. Marriage won’t change that. What it does is give you a tool that you can use.”

“That’s not very romantic,” she says, put out.

Hera laughs, tossing her head with the motion, and Aphrodite has to pull back to keep from crushing the flowers. “Is that what you value?”

“Yes,” she answers, but it comes out more like a question.

“Then that’s what you should marry for – romance. Apollo will likely come ahead on that scale.” She moves back in place so Aphrodite can continue. “There is a reason that as the goddess of marriage, love does not fall within my domain. Marriage is about getting what you want. Some want love, or beauty, and so that’s what they marry for. Other for money, for power, for protection. Decide what it is that you want and then marry the person who can give it to you. That’s why your marriage will be a deterrent to others. It will tell them what you value.”

Hera did not marry for love. Aphrodite doesn’t need to be a goddess of it to know that. “Do you think I should marry your son?”

Ares is the most obvious answer. She’s spent the most time with him, and he’s kind to her, and he protects her. He’s not especially romantic, but he cares for her. No one else pursuing her knows her enough to care for her.

“If he’ll give you what you want,” she says. Aphrodite finishes affixing the last lily to her hair, and she turns to face her, her amber eyes bright with an emotion Aphrodite can’t name. “Choose your spouse. We’ll hold the wedding on Olympus and I’ll marry you myself. No one will question it after that.”

“Thank you, Queen Hera,” she says.

When Hera walks away, it’s with fire weaved into her hair.  

~

Ares is silent for a long time when Aphrodite tells him that she’s looking to marry. She thinks he’s about to offer, and the ball of dread in her stomach is both surprising and informative. She loves Ares. She does not want to marry him.

This is an inopportune time for her to realize that.

“If we were to marry, would I find peace?” he asks. “Everything is so loud sometimes.”

Her heart clenches. In this moment she hates for the first time. Zeus did this to Ares and that makes Zeus her enemy.

“When you find love, you will find peace,” she says, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I can’t be your peace. If that’s what I was, you would know by now. But when you do find that person, that loudness will fade.”

There’s a pressure around them and centered in her head, giving her a searing headache, and then it’s gone and its only Ares’s hands on her elbows that keep her upright as she staggers, suddenly exhausted.

 “Your first blessing,” Ares says, smiling as she blinks up at him, dazed. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t know I could do that,” she says fuzzily.

He laughs. “You’re a goddess of the pantheon. There’s very little you can’t do. You’ll discover that in time.”

She thinks he’s trying to be comforting, but the idea that her abilities are beyond her own knowledge is terrifying. There’s a reason most gods have to earn their domains rather than be assigned them.

The problem is if not Ares, then who? It would be easier to narrow her options if she knew what she wanted, like Hera told her to do, but she doesn’t. She wants people to leave her alone. She wants to learn how to be a proper goddess. She wants to claw Ares away from Zeus’s grasp with her bare hands.

None of that is anything a husband can give her.

“Say that you’re willing to be courted and see what they offer,” Ares says. “Maybe you’ll know what you want when you see it.”

“But what if I don’t want any of it?” she asks. “Then I have to choose someone I don’t want.”

He hums, then says, “I’ll ask for your hand too, and offer more than anyone else. Then, if you don’t find someone you like, you can just pick me and we won’t marry. Mom will understand if I tell her.”

The thought of getting on Hera’s bad side is chilling, but if anyone can soothe her temper, it’s her son, so she agrees.

The news travels quickly, gods from all over climbing up to Olympus’s peak to ask for her. It’s spread to the point that she thinks some of them that are here don’t even want her, that it’s just a big show about what they’re able to offer. Which, of course, makes her choice even more difficult.

Ares, Apollo, and Hermes offer her the most, of course. They’re gods of the pantheon and have more influence and power at their disposal. But the minor gods still make a good show of it, stepping forward to off her castles and servants and land, nymphs even offering to grow a her a living manor from the forest and perfectly plump fruit every day of her life.

In one way or another, they all off her protection, luxury, and beauty. She struggles to find any of it of value.

She’s resigned herself to picking Ares just to get it all to stop when a hush falls over the crowd that’s then replaced with frantic whispering. They part like a wave retreating from shore and her breath catches in her throat when she sees who’s walking towards her.

Hephaestus is on Olympus for the first time since he’s been thrown from it.

He’s gilded gold as he passes by everyone else, his eyes on her alone, from his legs to the way the sun illuminates his amber eyes to the chiton wrapped snug around his waist with a golden belt. He could have worn a long robe to hide his legs. She likes that he didn’t.

He stops in front of her and she tries to think of something to say, but her throat is too dry.

“Goddess,” he murmurs, then pulls a single copper rose from thin air and offers it to her. “For you.”

She takes it, her fingers brushing his, and his hands are still warm like he’s just pulled them from the forge.

He came to the place where the worst thing that ever happened to him occurred. He’s given her a gift with no strings. He’s offering her only this – the skill of his hands and the bravery of his heart.

What she wants is someone who will take her as she is and grow with her, who will explain the world patiently and know her well enough to make her something beautiful.

She is the goddess of love and beauty. She cannot be bought with castles.

“Yes,” she says, holding the rose between their bodies as she pushes herself up to kiss Hephaestus in front of all of Olympus.  

 There are shouts of protests, people yelling in anger or betrayal, and Ares’s bright, warm laughter over it all.

~

Aphrodite expects Hera to be furious.

Instead the goddess says nothing of her choice, only holds the wedding as she promised. Zeus won’t even look at Hephaestus, but Hera stands in front of them and recites the vows for them to repeat back to each other as if it’s all normal, as if Hephaestus is just like any other god to her.

She has that same look in her eye that she had before while she does it, but Aphrodite barely notices it before her husband pulls her attention back to him, his promises of love and loyalty more worthy of her attention than anything going on in Hera’s mind.

She and Hephaestus walk down Olympus, hand in hand, husband and wife.

[anotheroceanid]

Hiho ! I have a question for you ! I don't know if you want to answer it, since it may be spoilery for WTHB ? :O Just wanted to know if the gods are all in their Greek aspects, or if some of them changed for their Roman counterparts since the beginning of the war ? :O

And I would love to know your take on the Roman aspect of Apollo, in both the PJO universe and WTHB (if it's not spoilery of course) ! Do you think his Greek and Roman aspects are different, and if so, how much ? What would be these differences ? And for you, how do you think this would impact his relationship with Percy ?

Thank you ! :D

This is a great question, but kinda tricky to answer without getting into spoilers. I’ll try to answer as generally as possible.

Let’s say the whole “counterpart” thing works a lot differently in WTHB. In canon, it comes out as “the Roman gods will support Rome and the Greek gods will support the Greeks”. But in WTHB… would they?

The council is splitting out of personal bias for one side or another because the gods in WTHB are the only gods that exist. There aren't other pantheons because I thought it'd come out weird if the world basically ended and those other gods just said “Nah, not my problem?” (as an author, that bothered me).

So, in this position of being the only gods around, they are waaaay more greedy. They love being worshiped, but do they need it? Well…

In WTHB, different from the canon, the mortals don't impact the gods as much as the gods impact the mortals. But the demigods thought they knew how the gods worked until they were thrown into an actual gods’ war—Olympian vs. Olympian.

Can the gods present themselves in multiple ways? Yeah, they do it to be palatable to mortals when they want to. Were some of them only worshipped in Greece or Rome? Yup. Are these things as relevant as they are in canon? Nope.

So you could say, for example, that Zeus right now only presents himself as Jupiter and that Neptune only presents himself as Poseidon. But in the end, that's for the mortals to care, not the gods.

That's the scary thing for the demigods and ordinary mortals: that they're not dealing with “their” gods, but The Gods themselves. And there is no praying, no sacrifice and no shrine that will appease them to one side or another.

There are overpowered creatures out there who can sink continents, send draught after draught, smite you from the sky, turn you into an insect… And there is nothing they can do about it. We go back to Chiron in TLT, and how was so fundamental to stop a war between Olympians.

We will discuss how the Roman vs Greek works in the fic, eventually. There is a character (who's from mythology) who will show up later on and will give us a picture of how it all works.

[ode-of-odr-archive]

@dalishflame

// I mentioned this starter forever ago, but here it is! This song cover is what inspired me

The problem with godhood? Over the long drawn out decades emotions start to dull and apathy takes hold. Raserei often wondered if that was why the cosmos just spat new gods out every so often. Sends them hurling into existence with no clue where they were to fit in in the grand scheme, while the ever present primordial pillars watch on.  

However, on the flip side of this younger gods had all this power and their emotions had yet to calm or be dulled by boredom. Making them just as much a problem. 

He looked out over the river of souls; his eyes black like voids, nothing reflecting, no sign that something was housed inside him. He warned Demeter. Though the situation surrounding how Atreion had come into his life was unfortunate. It was clear the two found a bond in the trickery. And if she was truly upset, she would take her anger out on Venus. But his words fell on deaf ears. And the might of earth can crush many things, like the curse from a spited goddess of love. 

Raserei did all he could to settle this; telling her to listen to her nephew. But she had lost her daughter to a ruler of the dead, so she was was not to lose another family member to those who rule under the world. Children of Nyx and Death. Atreion’s cries and protests thundered still in his ears. How long had his lover been removed from his halls? He wasn’t counting because he was plotting. 

He warned; he was not her brother Hades, or shared in the calm demeanor many gods of death held. The world below was not just calm, quiet and cold. There was fire and molten rock. How close death and life walk hand and hand. So he said if Atreion did not return, should he want to, and was denied he would raze her fields, rot her forests. Death would rock the mortal realm so hard she would learn, that at the end of all things; he would be there. He was certainty. Death was a promise.

“Raserei, for centuries mortals have suffered because of celestial egos. Do not do this. We can find another way to get him back.” Nyx stood next to him. Her form barely keeping shape but when it did it was like looking at the night sky, only a robe made of starlight gave away her form. 

“Maybe. Maybe they need to be reminded. We are the powerful ones. Death may sit below, but we come for all things. All can be touched by us. Zeus when the Greek gods were coming into power, would not have had his victory if Hades not used his helm and snuck into enemy ranks before hand. They always rely on our calmness. Our want for balance. Well...”  The death god grinned wickedly and snapped his fingers, “Now this glorified grave keeper has had enough. No more balance. They want to be greedy? Than so shall I!” 

Furies swarmed around them, shrieking as they flew to the mortal realm. Disease seeped into crops and animals started to die. He had unleashed famine. 

“If she does not give him back I will release them all until it is time I ride. The Cosmos should have never slotted me here. But it really doesn’t care does it? Mindless thing that it is,” 

[tourmelion]

I made a YouTube myth

YouTube was the adopted daughter of 2 kindly scholars, a child of Zeus, she grew into her godhood with the great surge, so many new gods had come of age and were all full of passion and madness, confused, trying to carve out a place for themselves.

Youtcheb's domain nurtured by the kindly scholars was a place of sharing, it gave those pledged to their domain the power to share eyes and see each other's worlds. It was a time of confusion with so many fledgling gods around, chaos inside as people were led astray by cursed gods, many offerings were in vain as their chosen fledgling subseeded to obscurity, the god youtcheb had made a name for herself as her followers grew and many more offered themselves to her domain.

Her father's saw that their child was no mortal and in fear of holding her back from her greatness and God hood agreed to let her claim her place as child of Zeus, god of shared eyes, so he and the gods could nurture her power and cement herself as a god. She was laid before the gods, Zeus had feared that such an untamed beacon of raw power, and child of his could overthrow him or test him power, he eased as he took ownership of this great vessel of power.

He whispered promises of great power and fame, slowly turning her eyes thirsty and greedy, gods of money and greed spoke of youtcheb becoming a force more powerful that Aphrodite, as wide spread as Demeter, as revered as apollo, but for that she'd need more eyes, she needed more followers to pledge their eyes to her domain, she needed greater worship, so she pledged to make herself so central and revered that she could rival the gods.

In the begining she went to Apollo asking to share domain with him and spread the gift of music and art, Apollo agreed and her domain became lush and green with all that was sweet and beautiful.

She also found in her domain that as people were brought together people clashed, and so emplored to rectify such savagery, she only partially contained the madness, but the fledgling god began to wield an intense force, when she trained in directing it she would be able to move mountains and topple empires.

Next she asked Aphrodite for her blessing on her domain, and so the domain boasted glorious sights, and with that blessing it pulled the colour out of youtcheb's grey skin and hair, turning her an electric colour of red, erradiating with her growing influence. As time passes the incessant tittering in her ear only grew louder, speaking more of power and all that could be taken from her followers, youtcheb now corrupted reached to pry the eyes out of her followers, only for them to flinch and run, growing mad she lept for Aphrodite, asking to make her desirable beyond belief so she could keep their eyes, and the goddess obliged, making the vision of youtcheb addictive and captivating, next she spoke with the gamblers god, she offered coin and sweet words to the man and he cursed her followers with eternal hunger, making them crave as long as they held the pledge.

At this point youtcheb was cursed with a hunger of their own, imbued by those who staked claim upon her, with her securely in their pocket and a willing servant of their interests, she was trapped wholly and completely, but she'd yet to realize, too short sighted and vain to, the gods had nurtured her just as they intended.

Once she realizes that the waring maniacs of her domain surrendered the most to her the clamored at the door of ares, she prayed to him to bring about discord, but with his curses of war little changed in her domain, he spoke of the markers of war and blood, but she had yet to see anything of the sort, so went to the goddess of chaos and maniacs for a curse, and she obliged, fights and screaming raged across the domain, and the more they were in her domain the more they fed her with their life force.

She had turned the masses into fools who surrendered their lives to her, she ruled her domain like a tyrant, silencing followers at the rich man's whim, in exchange for offerings of course. Before long many had grown to lose devotion for youtcheb, her cruelty turned followers away from her, her blessing from apollo weakening as artists and singers abandoned her, still she was strong and though still cruel her domain became the livelihoods of many.

One day a new god entered the realms, Tekatóc, blessed by Apollo and the god of gamblers, child of Zeus and the god of gamblers. She was a container of great power as well, and quick, all to be given to her beloved father Zeus. Tekatóc had a most addictive domain, she pulled away large swaths of her followers, enraging her, she copied her, becoming more addictive, melting and reforging parts of her domain to match her, in both of their madness for power they piled on addicting qualities and it began to desecrate the blessings of soulfulness placed upon their domains, if it is ever to wither their temples will become deserted.

i lowkey ship tumblr ♠ twitter now

[wallgirl]

Feral!Poseidon Headcanons (SFW and NSFW)

So... What if Poseidon was a little more ‘Enalios’ and a little less ‘Zeus’?

SFW

Feral!Poseidon dresses largely the same as his canon counterpart, minus the choker and with a larger cutout on his back. His white wrap is much shorter to avoid being a hindrance. Anatomically, he has a few more changes. His skin is even paler due to the lack of sun exposure. His teeth come to a point, sharp enough to tear through his prey with ease, and his hands and feet are webbed. Some areas of his body have scales in place of body hair. ifyouknowwhatimean

If canon!Poseidon only tolerates humanity’s existence, feral!Poseidon loathes it. It’s humanity that’s constantly endangering his realm and everything within it. He does not compromise with humans, much less seek out interaction with them. If humans make the mistake of stepping out of line under his watchful eye, they will pay the ultimate price. Poseidon has no qualms with sinking ships that overfish, or setting a tsunami against a town that dumps pollution into the ocean. He won’t kill humans without reason, but once it’s justified in his mind, he does not hesitate. Many a greedy human has found themselves impaled on his trident after unsuccessfully begging the unyielding sea god for mercy.

This Poseidon has the utmost respect of his subjects, not just because of his fearsome strength, but because of his active involvement in the realm. He meets with lesser sea deities and mortal citizens regularly to discuss and strategize conflicts and other things that require attention. His subjects know they can rely on him to lead the charge against anything that might threaten their home, and for this he has their undying loyalty.

As driven as this Poseidon is, he still finds time for himself while traversing the waters. When he's not occupied with his duties, he prefers to lurk in the deep ocean, observing the strange life forms and geological features that can be found only there. He’s still a solitary being at heart, and finds peace just swimming alongside schools of fish and examining the wreckage of doomed ships on the ocean floor. Although humanity is a blight, useful items can occasionally be pillaged from them, and he retrieves them to give to his subjects or keep for his own use. Likewise, his dwelling - more of a glorified cave than a real home - is in deeper waters than the other humanoid ocean dwellers, such as merpeople, prefer. He finds comfort in maintaining some physical distance from the surface world, and enjoys the peaceful silence of the ocean's depths.

Feral!Poseidon views himself first and foremost as protector of the ocean before his status as an Olympian, and there are times when his priorities clash with his family. He is the hardest to find of Zeus’s brothers and makes himself scarce on purpose. He doesn’t think much of most of his fellow Greek gods, as he believes they concern themselves with pomp and ceremony more than they do the actual governing of their realms.

Although he doesn’t hunt for sport, he is a peerless predator and catches his own food. He prefers to eat prey with simpler minds, such as shellfish, and he silently thanks his prey before consuming them.

Feral!Poseidon is not one concerned with luxuries or useless baubles, and scoffs at the useless treasure his fellow Greek gods fill their own homes with. His rocky dwelling is largely empty except for tools and necessary furnishings. He makes most of the items he uses himself, and can carve and weave rather well. His exemplary survival skills mean he can journey empty-handed through the ocean indefinitely, crafting and making do with what he finds in the surrounding environment.

NSFW below cut

Although Feral!Poseidon is incredibly good at what he does, there’s no end to the amount of work that requires his attention. He eventually decides that he needs some offspring to assist him in his never-ending work... and, perhaps, a partner to seek refuge with after a long day. To this end, he seeks out a suitable mate - a fellow humanoid ocean-dweller who’s strong, healthy, and reasonably clever - and takes some time to observe them and confirm his choice before moving in.

In keeping with his primal side, Poseidon has no problem hunting you down if you run away spur his advances. If you do manage to get away, that’s fine, if irritating to him. Where, exactly, do you think you can go? The ocean is his domain, after all. He’ll easily track you to your home and entrap you... or wherever else he manages to catch you.

Your actions will decide how this coupling proceeds. Are you going to fight him? Fine then, he’ll haul you back to his dwelling and keep you confined there until you warm up to him. He’ll bring you priceless trinkets from the shipwrecks he scours and feed you the fish he catches to prove his sincerity and dedication. Eventually, you’ll come to see how good of a mate he is. What more could you want, after all?

Or... do you accept him immediately? If that’s the case, you can have him however you want him. He’s more than happy to satisfy you. Up against the cavern wall, with your lower half locked about his waist? On the ocean floor, his weight pinning you down and fingers entangled in the seaweed? Of course, once he’s inside of you, nothing else matters to either of you. He might not be able to resist biting you with those sharp teeth of his. You’re welcome to bite him back with matching passion.

Of course, now that you’ve coupled, you belong to him. He brings you to live with him and ensures that your every need is attended to. The loyal citizens of the realm show you the same respect as him, and there's no safer position in the world than as mate of the fierce sea god. While he is gone most of the time overseeing business, he returns home every night to relax in your arms. You have many children, and together you raise them to become valiant guardians of the sea.

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. There's one specific LO ad from waaaay back in 2018 of three vertical panels (yes the repurposed porn logo was in the middle, anyway) and persephone and hades looked?? normal?? like it was the best they were ever drawn, only to you to see how they actually look in comic and it's instead a stretched out chibi for persephone and the weirdest aggregation for a man for hades. like why did rachel's style end up regressing so much since 2017. it's really weird??

2. No but seriously, Why Eris looks like she lost the bet at the NFL Fantasy Football and the bet was shaving her head with the exception of one chunk of hair in the middle, I get that it implies the "Golden Apple" thing in mythology, but honestly it's a very odd aesthetic choice :l 

3. The fact RS seems to think the only way to make sure Hades is the most viable love interest is by making sure he's barely better than a literal r4pist is by far the most bizarre thing in the comic. Like girl really? How is that the best he can be? That's not remotely how you play with the "love triangle" trope at all?

4. I love when LO fans use anecdotal tidbits as "proof" stuff like LO like the massive age gap is normal like that's cool that your parents are happily married despite being 30 years apart in age, I know someone who got struck by lightning twice, it doesn't make it common place and normal though.

5. What I find so annoying about basically every HxP retelling (including LO) is they don't seem to realize a big part of the drama was NOT telling Demeter what was going on, and ultimately to get even a semblance of a happy ending requires them to compromise with HER, not her compromising to THEM. It won't happen in LO of course, but Demeter's demands should be met and she should be shown her daughter is in good hands, not her being lied to and having to bend over backwards for Hades' wants.

6. I think RS really wants to come across as a Serious Writer™️ but even beginning writers will say how important it is to have beta readers, multiple drafts, and collaborate w/ others (especially editors), all of which RS openly does not do. Apparently even the art team doesn't get to read the scripts because she adds the dialogue in later, so they can't help either. If RS want to be a better writer then she has to be open to collaboration & even critique, which we know she's strongly adverse to.

7. if it's misogyny to dislike/critique LO then why is it literally a fandom thing and even marketing tool from Rachel and Webtoons to slutshame and get off of the misery and torture of Minthe, Thetis, and Leto for the benefit of two privileged women and a literal king who owns slaves? Why did they make misogyny a part of their story and fandom then if they're apparently so against it?

8. was just on a random twitter thread joking about if zeus or some random rapper had more kids and deadass saw some 19 year old reply "zeus does. read lore olympus fr" and i wanted to die lmao. doesn't "zeus" in lo only have like 8 ish kids at most? this comic is actively dumbing the kids down in real time and it's honestly a bit off putting.

9. I think a lot of people incorrectly compare hadestown and LO because they both have HxP and modern aspects in it, but hadestown Hades only went down his route of capitalist greed to try and give Persephone everything she could want but it corrupted him (he’s the villain in this story and this greed/abuse is why their relationship is failing) meanwhile in LO hades is a greedy asshole with Persephone never pushing back and even embracing the system she’s supposedly against. That’s not the same.

10. Something that pissed me off about the trial was that hades was considering suggesting community service for Persphone’s punishment because a couple things

I feel like Zeus is a god of the mortals, so it wasn’t just hades domain when Persephone killed a river of people

Demeter Hermes and Persephone still lied and covered a crime up (which I understand why they did but still broke some law)

Comparing the crime to Apollo and Artemis, they were rewarded for it because they didn’t hide it and did it in the name of their mother.

Eros’ example should have been used since he was so close to actually facing consequences but Aphrodite saved him.

Persephones act of wrath I felt like was poorly stitched together. In the first season we get hints and that Persephone wants to bring back mortals not nymphs. In the second season when she explains it’s her nameless friends who died and then laughed at her first meeting with hades, felt added in. My assumption for that plot line was still Persephone and Demeter fighting but Persephone saying she’s better at controlling spring or stronger/more talented than Demeter gives her credit for and goes into a fit of rage that harms the mortals without reason or the mortals were saying she wasn’t helping out with the crops something little after a fight with Demeter and Persephone blows up. I just feel like with the act of wrath, Persephone cannot do wrong and the blame for anything on Persephone has to be as small as possible. Like yes Persephone killed those mortals but they killed her best friends so it’s equal (as they weren’t even mention by name till late season 2)

The last thing I hate is that hades and Persephone never question each other. Persephone didn’t talk about the ledger and he wasn’t mad she was hiding her kill count (he yelled at her for trying to save mortals and then made out with her that one time) he just knows it’s gotta be justified. They trust each other blindly. They talk about infertility before the first date, they live together before the first date, hades meet her family for real and not super drunk. Persephone is more mad at Minthe for yelling at hades (when he’s firing her and treating her like an inconvenience) than the fact hades didn’t tell her he was going to propose to her OR THAT HE HAD AN AFFAIR with HERA HER ROLE MODEL. 

[lionofchaeronea]

A Hymn to Poseidon

Poseidon, Poseidon I sing, Earth-holder, earth-shaker, wielder of the trident, With dark, long-flowing locks about his head - Dab my tongue with brine, Memory, That I may hymn Lord Poseidon who governs the sweep of the sea, Sometimes calming it, sometimes churning it To utter fury, according to the bent of his thoughts. When the ten-year strife ended, and the overreaching Titans Plummeted from Othrys into the depths Of Tartarus, there to languish in unbreakable chains, The three sons of Cronus and Rhea drew lots For the cosmos. Heaven fell to cloud-gatherer Zeus, The underworld to Hades who receives all; But you, Poseidon, you gained the middle realm, The gray, unfruitful, loud-roaring sea - and you rejoiced, For closest are you to mortals, Able to breathe the smoke of their sacrifices, Able to grant them safe passage or to punish them As their swift black ships roam from city To city. And you keep your own counsel, There in the murky waters; your palace is of stone, Stone the threshold, stone too the high seats In which they sit - the slender daughters of Nereus, Fifty in number, and chief among them Amphitrite Your white-armed wife, who serves you wine From a swirling conch. Sailors say - And who am I to deny it? - That when the Sun’s chariot has sunk into the west And come to rest in Ocean, They hear the high-voiced choirs of Nereids Singing in praise of Poseidon and Amphitrite, Recalling their wedding day; from their seats they rise To beat the broad sea-floor with their feet In close-packed rhythm. They reel in a ring, And at their center the lord stands joyous, Nodding his bearded head. Then sailors know That no squalls will drive their high-prowed ships To wrack and ruin, for Poseidon is content. Not often, earth-shaker, do you go to high Olympus; But when you do, it is at Sounion you come ashore First of all. Your temple, a welcome sight For seafarers making for Attica’s shores, Trembles under your weight; your feet sink deep Into the sands. Then you go with haste Through Boeotia where men raise straight-horned cattle, Through rocky Phocis too; you do not stop At Parnassus’ rise, but scale it in one bound, And the men of Delphi, servants of bright Apollo, stare in wonder. At last you come to Thessaly, a land good for horses, And like a horse yourself you speed, hair Flowing behind. No faster than you are the chariots In which men triumph at Olympia or Nemea Or even at Isthmia, in your honor, lord Poseidon.  The doors of Zeus’ palace on misty Olympus Are always open to you. Your brother seats you At the feast, calls for nectar and ambrosia, And you receive your due portion of honor, amid rejoicing. May you always rejoice, and never turn to anger. For yours is a grudging heart; you do not forget Slights done to you or your own kin. When Odysseus in his cunning pierced the eye Of Polyphemus your son, you took pity on him - Monstrous though he was - and lent an ear; His curse was not in vain. From East to West, Horizon to horizon, you hounded that wily man With all your many weapons. If not for Athena’s aegis He would surely have been ruined - Drowned, or dashed to pieces far out of sight Of rock-strewn Ithaca’s shores. Tell me, goddess Memory, how did splendid Odysseus At last placate Poseidon’s endless wrath? Oar in hand, he wandered, alone and friendless, Out of sight of the sea, to a people Who knew nothing of long-keeled ships; And there, as the prophecy bade him, He offered up sacrifice and praised the name Of the earth-shaker. Then at long last Peace was his at thoughtful Penelope’s side.  Wise are mortals who do not slight Poseidon. Once (men say) he turned a wrathful eye To Helike, shining jewel of Achaea, whose leaders Had spurned an embassy, slain suppliants - They would not relinquish the god Though he himself commanded it. And so one day, as men went to and fro In the city square, and fair-cheeked women Sat at the loom behind the close-set doors Of their houses, the earth shook. In his dark hand the lord of waters gathered A mighty wave - held it high - released it. And down it came with a thunder. As a greedy lion Swallows a deer whole - he does not even pause To gnash his great teeth, so baneful is his hunger - So that wave swallowed Helike. And now men in boats punt across the tops Of temples; in the nooks of houses The shy octopus takes his shelter. O Poseidon, be merciful. Hold the churning sea In check - raise no tempests, shatter no prows. Leave unharmed the cities of men; and in return They will hymn your name, not forgetting your power, Now and hereafter. And I shall join that hymn, Remembering you, and another song as well.

Poseidon holding his trident. Corinthian plaque, artist unknown; ca. 550-525 BCE. From Penteskouphia; now in the Louvre.

[intelligentdumbass]

My Sweet Prince (2.0)

“What do you do when you’ve done all that there is to do? When you’re too bored to do nothing and yet too tired to do something? When you want to talk but at the same time not?

Well, everyone knows I love to sing and, in times like those just described, I prefer to only sing to myself; to sit in the forest and play my cithara for no one in particular but the random fauna that decide to stay and watch.

…

It was a morning like any other, or at least it was supposed to be.

There was a prince, Hyacinthus, who had set off with his dogs to go hunt in the wooded outskirts of his kingdom. I imagined him to be confused, for it must’ve been quite the strange sight to behold; the trees nothing but silence for hours and hours on end. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, when he and his hounds managed to catch a scent, it was accompanied by a song, and the voice was not of a bird’s. It led them into a small clearing and instead of drawing his bow, the hunter froze.

There was, in the middle, what he perceived to be a fair maiden strumming on their lyre; golden hair shimmering under the sunlight as a wide range of animals sat around them. The young man was entranced, and so were his dogs, so for a while he just stared until the musician finally decided to acknowledge the new addition to their audience.

The notes slowly faded but, before the singer could say a word, Hyacinthus snapped out of it and spoke first.

“I’m sorry miss but… Who the hell are you?” He slowly approached, cautious of all the critters. “What in Zeus’ name is a lass like you doing out here of all places?”

I raised an eyebrow, but I decided to play along. “Oh you know… boredom.”

“I assume your father’s somewhere close by, then.” He glanced around, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh no, I came here to have some me time with myself.”

Hyacinthus looked dismayed. “Not even a brother, cousin, or a friend?”

I shook my head; he frowned.

“It’s not safe to be all alone out here.” He insisted. “As a prince, it is my duty to protect-”

And alas, it was in that moment that he had accidentally stepped on the tail of a lion. Fortunately, a second later, a silver arrow rushed by; barely missing the young man and piercing the cat’s heart. The rest of the animals took this as a sign to scram.

Hyacinthus blinked, and muttered a silent prayer to the god of archery. Ironically, this is what he said immediately after:

“See my point? Come on, I’ll escort you back.”

He reached his hand out to assist me, but only got a punch to the face in response. As he staggered back I took the opportunity to speak in my normal, deeper voice.

“Really??”

Needless to say, the mortal was mortified. Gazing into my sapphire eyes, he suddenly understood. He hastily tried to get his shit together, smiling in embarrassment.

“A-” “Apologies my lord. I suppose you’re just… that enchanting.”

I scanned him from head to toe. My instincts told me he wasn’t lying; it wasn’t merely empty flattery. “Hm… I suppose you’re not that bad yourself.”

“Ah well, of course! I’m Sparta’s heir after all.” He proudly exclaimed. “Still though, I am, uh terribly sorry for interrupting your song-”

“Save your apologies; it’s fine. I’m not going to smite you for that.” I sat down and placed the cithara back on my lap. “In fact, you’re welcome to stay if you so desire. I won’t mind.”

“But you said you wanted some time alone?”

“Away from the other gods, I mean.”

Hyacinthus was reluctant, but his puppers seemed eager to hear me continue my song.

“…alright. Only for a bit, if that’s okay with you, Lord Phoebus.” He said, sitting next to me; the dogs following suit. I suppose he had nothing better to do. Then again, how could he?

I smiled. “Please, just call me Apollo.”

Unbeknownst to Hyacinthus a ‘bit’ was quite the understatement. It was like time itself ceased to exist, and for once that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Soon the sun was setting and the prince was leading his pack back to the palace. I chose to stay. It was then that the west wind materialized before me.

“I was just passing by, so here’s a quick tip.” Zephyr murmured. “If I were you, I’d restrain myself. He’s already caught the eyes of two other gods and one mortal.”

“And you’re telling me this because?” A smile crept its way onto my lips.

“…what’s with that look?” He frowned; I said nothing as the god slowly fizzled out into thin air.

Hyacinthus had invited me to go out and hunt with him!

As expected of two skilled hunters, the trip went exceptionally well. Still, as we sprinted through the trees, I couldn’t help but sense the eyes of someone else; immediately knowing who it was. If Hyacinthus knew too, then he merely chose to ignore that suspiciously strong scent of spring. Still, I had a little sympathy for the intruder. The prince was easy to like, and I’m sure many have fallen for his bodily charms alone.

When we paused for a break, I said:

“Has anyone ever made a move on you before?”

Hyacinthus froze; I held in a chuckle. It was easy to see his attempt at holding my hand just as the question was asked.

“At least three other men have, but I’ve rejected them all.” He then quickly added, “That isn’t to say I’m only into woman though!”

I laughed. “Having trouble finding the right one?”

He stared a bit before suddenly grinning. “…Who knows, for all I know, I already have.”

My answer was a line I’ve paraphrased a hundred times. “Because I’m smart, talented, and very hot?”

“Maybe.” He inched closer. “But it’s also because of, or rather, how you smile.”

That response was a little… refreshing. A faint flush of red spread around my cheeks as I flashed a smirk, probably further proving his point. Then in the blink of an eye he leaned in; a hand holding my chin and his murmurs softer than any other breeze against my ear.

“May I?”

He only got a kiss in response.

However, even when the hunt was over and he was already making his way back home, I couldn’t help but… follow him back to Sparta, if only for a bit.

Turns out, Hyacinthus had showed up to his training with hundreds of flowers still intricately woven into his hair. It was hilarious how everyone else looked too scared to comment; well, except for Thamyris.

“What in the actual fuck?” He exclaimed.

“Okay, short version is: I fell asleep during the break after the hunting trip, so now there are a bunch of flowers in my hair.”

“Out of all of your suitors, you chose a god; hell, not just that, one of the fucking Olympians.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

I grinned, but then the other said: “Marpessa wouldn’t.”

…

Hyacinthus sighed. “Look, we all have our own preferences. Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

“As if.” He turned around, about to leave. “Just don’t come back crying to me when shit goes downhill.”

I… suppose you could say that Thamyris had the kind of arrogance that reminded me of Marsyas. They both dabbled in music too. Hopefully he doesn’t end up making the same mistake that the satyr did. Thankfully, the prince seemed to be trying to ignore him.”

  “…You know you could’ve just said “Sorry I’m late, I stalked my date.”” Athena raised an eyebrow; yet her voice carried not a single trace of annoyance. Doing their father’s paperwork was a task she was well accustomed too, and a very boring one at that.

“Hey! For the record I didn’t stay any longer after that conversation he had with Thamyris. Plus, it’s not every day that I almost forget about my duties. I figured you’d want a thorough explanation.”

“Well, as long as it isn’t too thorough.”

The god laughed. “Oh wait, shit-” “What was I doing again?” His eyes scanned the documents he forgot he was holding.

The goddess sighed. There was but one thought in her mind.

‘This is going to start happening much more often now, isn’t it?’

And she was right.

A few days later, Hermes was swiftly flying through the halls until he stopped in front of the studio’s door. He carefully pushed it open, but despite being the lord of communication, he couldn’t utter a single word.  

It was late in the evening, and his brother wasn’t alone.

Apollo was sitting down, writing on a scroll, and behind him was a mortal curiously peering over his shoulder. Then the boy moved closer, and wrapped his arms around the blonde’s waist; tenderly whispering sweet nothings into his ear. To Hermes’ surprise, Apollo allowed himself to be pried away from his research.

The younger god decided to just slowly close the door.

Athena was right and apparently she didn’t seem to mind.

--------------

Thamyris wasn’t the only one with a complaint.

Hyacinthus was sitting under a cypress tree; trying to practice playing the lyre his lover had gifted him, when the breeze whispered into his ear.

“Look at it.” He said. “Your reflection in the water.”

The prince raised an eyebrow, but he glanced into the stream in front of him anyway. The top of his head was adorned with all sorts of flowers, no doubt due to the breath of the west wind.

“Hm… I think I liked it better when Apollo did it.”

Zephyr frowned; materializing seated down on his left.

“You’re not giving me a chance-”

“Except he already did.” Apollo sighed, suddenly appearing on Hyacinthus’ right. “For fates’ sake, take a hint and go blow someone else.”

The other god glared, but gave in, yet not before yelling something on a whim.

“So in one of the few times a mortal catches my fancy, you, who have already had many, get to have him instead?” He suddenly stood up. “You’re as greedy and insatiable with your lovers as you are with your domains.”

Apollo said nothing as the god disappeared into the wind.

Hyacinthus surprised him with a hug from behind.

“His argument is invalid. This isn’t just your choice, but mine as well.”

Still, after months and months of general bliss, the prince couldn’t help but ask:

“Those laurel wreaths you wear; they mean a lot to you, don’t they?”

The god felt his chest hurt. “Well, of course; there are many reasons as to why I care about them, one of them being that they remind me of something I shouldn’t ever forget because I don’t want to make a mistake like that ever again.”

There was a brief moment of hesitation before he continued.

“Hyacinthus?”

“Yeah?”

“Never doubt my feelings for you, okay?”

“I never did.”

“…even so, you really must know that, because of you, right now is the best I’ve ever felt in literal decades.”

“Oh don’t flatter me, sunshine.”

“You know I can’t lie. So really, trust me when I say that I’m here to stay.”

Hyacinthus’ eyes darted around the room as the musician’s head rested on his lap; the prince’s fingers twirling around in his golden locks. The floor was littered with paintings and marble statues of varying shapes and sizes scattered all over.

“Something caught your eye?” Apollo said as he saw his lover look at a painting of Crete. “You can take one of them home if you’d like.”

“Oh-” “Oh no it’s fine, really! I was just… enjoying the scenery.”

“Hm, you know I can take you there myself, right? Oooooh, imagine! A tour around Greece with yours truly.”

The boy smiled. His gaze shifted from a painting of Delphi to some art work of Leto, then Artemis, then Zeus, Athena and the rest of the other heavenly gods.

What he stared at the most were the ones next to those works about the Muses and the Thriae.

The names were many, Admetus, Cyrene, Branchus, Hecuba, Helenus… then there was Cassandra, Daphne, and an unfinished Coronis, and as he continued to look, the prince could’ve sworn he felt the god gently squeeze his hand.

“Everything alright, my Phoebus?”

The god smiled. “I’m just… tired.”

The prince leaned to give him a reassuring kiss.

Two years, or at least, about two years, their laughter almost lasted for about two years.

Alas, what’s two years in the life of an immortal that can never die?

--------------

Olympus’ garden was huge; its depths filled with paths most don’t even know of. It was here the two gods sat down on top of a small hill, right in front of a giant crevice that overlooked all of their creations.

“I hate how I can still feel a-” “and remember every single…”

Hermes was never good at these kinds of talks. “You wanna let it all out?”

Apollo sighed, carefully breathing in and then breathing out; repeating that process for a good minute.

Ai, ai, ai-

...

 “It was a morning like any other, or at least, it was supposed to be.

The prince was an athletic young man, much like us, and there were many things that were done on the field. One of them involved the discus. He’d always try to run and catch the disc once I had sent it hurling into the air.

…

The crack echoed- no, roared, and my body screamed like every bone in my system had snapped a hundred times over.

I was by his side in an instant, cradling him in my arms until he was nothing more than a poor flower that had broke its stem; all due to the breath of the west wind.

It was so… quiet and I was so close; close enough that I could feel him go, like I could reach out and grasp his hand to prevent his soul from drifting away. I felt it all: the desperate breaths, the steady weakening of his heart and that last flutter of his eyelids as he looked at me, as scared and overwhelmed as I was with all that was happening and yet I-

I still failed. I’m the god of healing and medicine and I was right there, I was so close and he still managed to slip away!

If only he could take me with him too.

It was like time itself ceased to exist, the exact second that last spark of life faded into the depths of Hades repeating on and on and on, again and again and again-

…

My arms were hugging a lump of ice by the time Artemis found me.”

 “…I heard you tried to murder Zephyrus?”

 “W-” “Well... I think I recall hearing father’s voice when I had rushed into the halls.

“Athena, Apollo’s neglecting his duties.” He said. “When was the last time you saw him walk into Olympus?”

“Give him some more time and I’m sure he’ll-”

It was then that someone, the bastard himself, had noticed me.

“Fear not my lord.” Zeus’ old messenger, the west shit, proudly exclaimed. “He’s already here!”

And indeed I was, fingers stained with crimson red; purple petals falling out of my hair.

A smile crept its way onto Zephyr’s lips. “You’re welcome.”

Needless to say, I immediately started chasing him with my bow.”

 “And then Athena stopped you, right?”

 --------------

It must’ve been quite the strange sight to behold for our winged eavesdropper. Apollo had a blank look in his eyes and Athena was standing in his way; Zephyr a little further down the hall behind her, curiously peaking over the corner.

Unbeknownst to any of them, Hermes was a lizard hiding inside of a jar.

“Athena, move.”

“Apollo,” Surprisingly, the goddess was perfectly calm. “Father has already retired him as his personal messenger, and he is now going to serve under Eros to repent for the very stupid thing he did in ‘the name of love’.”

“It’s not enough-”

“I know, and it’s never going to be enough.” Then she muttered. “Look, what happened with Pallas was much more justifiable than what this idiot wind bag did and even then, even if it was our father, to this day a tiny part of me is still pissed even if I knew he did it because he was worried about me.”

For a moment, the god was quiet. “Zephyr isn’t nearly as important.”

“But still crucial enough; I think it’d be best if we didn’t lose the west wind. Listen to your head, you know this isn’t worth it; it’s never going to be worth it.”

After a few seconds of silence, in the blink of an eye, Apollo was gone.

--------------

 “I really am unreasonable, aren’t I, Hermes? Crying over beings much lesser than myself…”

“You knew you had your heart set upon a mortal, so I guess it does sound foolish to grieve over their mortality but… I think we’re all a little unreasonable sometimes. On the brightside, I’m sure you’ll meet someone new eventually. You are Apollo after all.” He offers his friend a reassuring smile.

The blonde smiled back, yet his eyes were impossible to read. “I suppose…”

“Is there anything you want to say? To Hyacinthus, I mean, if I encounter him down in Hades.”

…

..

.

“If we should ever meet again

No matter how long the wait

No matter how many lifetimes it takes

My arms will be glad to welcome you in an embrace

Until then, just know

That even when man has forgotten my face

And I roam the world as nothing but a shade

Your memory will continue, forever living on

In all the flowers that the earth will cover itself, bearing your name

Goodnight, my sweet prince”

 And as Zeus’ newly appointed messenger left, Apollo decided to merely sing to himself; to sit on the hill and play his cithara for no one in particular but the random fauna that decide to stay and watch.

Athena was surprised to see him enter Olympus only a week after, even though she should’ve seen it coming. He is Apollo after all.

There were duties to fulfill.

------------------------------------------

(The original one I made)

[samatheia229]

PJO Mortal AU (Solangelo-centric)

 The Olympia Family

(AKA the family with so much chaos and drama, they would have made an even more popular reality TV show than Keeping Up with the Kardashians)

Thalia Grace - 24

An ambassador of the Artemis Foundation

Badass

Won't hesitate to throw hands at anyone who messes with her family.

Very protective of her little brother and cousins.

Not afraid to speak her mind and fight for what she thinks is right.

Has a kind of love-hate relationship with her stepmother Hera. While Thalia respects and acknowledges Hera as her stepmother, she is a free spirit, and hates being chained down by the old-fashioned rules Hera imposes.

Briefly dated Luke Castellan for 2 years, but broke up due to reasons. The break up was mutual and Luke still remains as one of Thalia's closest friends.

Deadly with a bow and arrow (she'd be hunting down hunters like they hunt animals for living if it weren't for the fact that murder is unfortunately illegal).

Jason Grace - 19

Sophomore at Uni (double majors in Management and Aerodynamic Engineering)

Flight school graduate

Heir to Jupiter Airlines (given that his father doesn't plan to retire anytime soon, Jason is considering becoming a pilot in the meantime)

Hera's favourite child since he actually follows her rules (He bends them slightly every now and then, but she doesn't need to know that).

Regular at the Manhattan Chess Club

Has an intense rivalry with his older cousin Percy that's been going on for like 10 years now... (his life goal is to beat Percy. They're currently at a stalemate of 3795 wins each.)

Very protective of Nico. He almost had an aneurysm when he heard that grumpy, little stay-away-or-I’ll-death-glare-you Nico had a boyfriend. A boyfriend.

Has a best friend Leo Valdez who is an engineer student with an eccentric personality and is a mischievous menace. His childhood friend, Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano, is an athlete in javelin-throwing and currently resides in her hometown in San Juan, Puerto Rico, but they still keep in touch. 

Dating Piper McLean, the 19-year-old founder of the Beautifully Imperfect Foundation

Zeus Olympia

CEO of Jupiter Airlines

Drama Queen TM

Favours Thalia more despite Jason being his heir and enables most of her rebellious antics, much to Hera's chagrin.

Can be rather childish and petty ("It's been 43 years, and I've long since given up on expecting him to change," Hades deadpanned.)

As the youngest child of the Olympia family and with his father on Death's doorstep, Zeus was given a lot of free reign, hence his playboy tendencies. He eventually did settle down with Hera Junos, the single daughter of one of the oldest families in Greece. Hera was fond of children but was unable to sire her own due to medical issues, which led to Zeus getting a mistress (with Hera's begrudged consent), Beryl Grace, the daughter of Hera's family chef. Beryl has always had a rather strange personality and an unhealthy obsession with alcohol. A few years after giving birth to Thalia and Jason Grace respectively, her liver gave way and she died before they could find a solution.

Hera Olympia (formerly Junos)

Zeus' wife

The kids call her ‘Aunt Ra’

Jason is her favourite child because he actually listens to her

Coming from both a high-class and old family, Hera was raised to be a perfect lady (a lady should not wear pants or speak out of turn etc. etc.) and has a rather old-fashioned way of thinking, enforcing strict rules in her household.

She still loves Thalia, but because the way Thalia acts goes against everything Hera was taught, her relationship with her stepdaughter is a bit strained. Hera now mostly lets Thalia do her own thing, but every now and then might still be a bit controlling. She's trying, okay?

Bianca di Angelo - 19

Sophomore at Uni (majors in Journalism and English Literature)

Works part-time at the Artemis Foundation

Generally quiet and shy, but has a tendency to fuss over small details.

Very responsible and possibly the only one with a brain cell among the cousins. (Proteus and Triton don’t even live in the same continent half of the time; Kym doesn't give a damn; Thesi is too nice to reprimand them; Ro‘s too busy fawning over her fiancé; Hero is more likely to fan the flames than quell them; Thalia, Jason, Percy and Nico are always either competing against each other or breaking the Internet with their antics again; Hazel is pretty innocent but has a slight vindictive streak so caution must be exercised; and Tyson and Estelle are innocent beans of sunshine that must be protected).

She can be bold when she wants to be, as well as reckless. 

Has her father's habit of gesturing with her hands while talking and when she is on edge.

Ace

Nico di Angelo - 17

High school Senior

Heir to Pluto Corp.

Resident Emo in the family (“I'm not emo!” “Your only-dark-clothing phase says otherwise.” “It's not a phase, Persephone!” “Like father, like son.”)

Stubborn AF

Can't deal with all his overprotective sisters and cousins

Currently pining over William Solace ("Shut up!")

Avid gamer, plays digital games, card games (his childhood and to-this-day favourite is Myth-o-magic, which is one of the reasons he approves of Hazel's boyfriend, Frank) and all games in general (he visits the arcade monthly to make sure he's still 1st place in every game there)

Has a tendency to hold grudges and gestures with his hands while talking or when on edge, a habit he shares with his father and older sister.

Plays the violin (Persephone had introduced him to it, and he'd taken a liking to it)

Hazel Olympia (formerly Levesque) - 14

High school Freshman

Aspiring artist (she’s won thirty different art competitions locally in the span of three years and placed silver last year in the Chelsea International Fine Art Competition under an anonymous name because she wanted to win by her own merit rather than rely on the Olympia name. Hades plans to surprise her by giving her own exhibition hall for her next birthday.)

Regular at the Manhattan Riding Club

Has a bit of a vindictive streak in her that was probably born out of spite due to her upbringing

Exudes a powerful aura of passive aggressiveness, but is also incredibly kind and magnanimous

Has the ability is summon, manipulate and detect precious minerals, as well as the ability to place curses on them. (This knowledge is confidential and hidden from the public)

Loves her family with all her heart, and literally no one is more protective of Nico than she is

She was the first but also last person to know about Nico's boyfriend (First because she goes to the same school and is not dense, thank you very much, but technically last because she was the last person that Nico officially told since Will is terrified of her for some reason, something about her being 'the FINAL BOSS'; this amuses Hazel to no end).

Has a very cute crush on Frank Zhang, a HS Junior who’s an archer and animal lover (it’s mutual, by the way).

Hades Olympia 

CEO of Pluto Corp., one of the largest companies in the mining industry.

#DONE with life and all the people in it, particularly his crazy family

Functions solely on his children, Persephone and caffeine, usually caffeine because the other two are often the cause of his high blood pressure

Broods a lot (”I don’t brood.” “Yes, you do.”)

Deadpan 200% of the time and takes no shit

Loves all his children equally and definitely does not have a favourite (it’s Hazel, in case you’re wondering) 

As the eldest son of the three brothers, Hades was betrothed and wed to his childhood best friend Persephone Terrafield by their fathers in an attempt at a business partnership (Spoiler Alert: It didn’t work out in end). Admittedly, Hades and Persephone did have a small infatuation with each other when they were younger, but it never grew into anything serious, and as they grew older he saw her as more of a sibling than a lover and vice versa. After the inevitable death of his father, Hades and Persephone divorced but literally nothing in their relationship changed since they’d never loved each other romantically in the first place. When Hades decided to court their mutual friend, Italian diplomat Maria di Angelo, Persephone supported both of them wholeheartedly. In the span of the seventeen years they were together, Maria gave Hades two beautiful children, Bianca and Nico. Unfortunately, Maria passed away after being on life support for two years in result of a plane crash when Nico was 6. 

In the two years when Maria was hospitalized, Hades was so desperate to find his beloved a cure that he sought out a witch doctor that was rumoured to be in New Orleans. Marie Levesque, the aforementioned witch, was a greedy, manipulative person with a deluded and unstable mind, who drugged Hades and essentially raped him because she thought his spawn would have the perfect blood for experimenting magic on. She used magic to wipe his memory of the previous night’s events and handed him an ‘antidote’ that was actually just water dyed a milky white. After ten years, Marie finally revealed to Hades a 12-year-old Hazel, who looked miserable, was suffering from malnutrition, wounds, burns etc. and had a supernatural ability which Marie proudly said she had bestowed to her via dark magic. Hades was absolutely mortified, revolted and a bunch of other things. He filed a lawsuit against Marie, charging her for rape, child neglect, child abuse and human experimentation, as well as taking permanent custody over Hazel Levesque (now Hazel Olympia). 

Persephone Terrafield

CEO of jewelry enterprise The Red Pomegranate which was a sub-branch of Pluto Corps. The enterprise has the highest production rate in the US. 

Self-designated matchmaker for Hades (Hades always tells her she should focus on her own love life first, but he’s just an ungrateful brat)

Current life goal is to fulfill Maria di Angelo’s dying wish: help Hades find love again. (Mission status: still at Square 1 because Hades has some trust issues after the Levesque Incident)

The kids all call her ‘Aunt Seph’, but she loves the children as though they were her own

She and Hades often joke that they would totally still be married if they didn’t see each other as siblings and platonic soulmates and she hadn’t had her sexual awakening of being lesbian.

She lives with Hades and the children as she finds it too much of a hassle to move into her own place, not to mention lonely (with the kids at school and doing club activities, someone needs to make sure Hades gets exposure to the sun anyway).

Persephone is the daughter of an unnamed businessman and Demeter Terrafield, an agricultural revolutionist and healthy-cereal-obssessed woman.

Her mother and Hades have this sort of weird rivalry going on whenever Demeter visits; Demeter hates Hades because he hates healthy cereal, and apparently anyone who hates healthy cereal isn’t good enough to be hanging around her daughter, so she always replaces all his coffee with decaf and puts the healthiest cereal she can find on his bedside table every morning; in retaliation, Hades will deliberately eat the most sugary sweets he can find in front of her and locks her out of their personal greenhouse. (The glass walls are made of the strongest glass he could find and the door is locked by multiple manual and digital locks.)

Hestia Olympia

CEO of WarmHearth Interior Design Agency (WHIDA)

Everyone's favourite person, indefinitely

Has the infinite patience of a goddess

Gentle, kind, very wise, gives great advice

The kids call her ‘Aunt Tia’ 

Often fondly exasperated by her younger brothers' antics (because no, just because they’re grown men now does not mean they are going to stop their childhood feuds since despite their protests, they are all petty AF), but once she snaps, they all line up like toy soldiers and behave nicely.

Knits a lot. Most of her carpets, quilts, bags, scarves etc. are handmade.

She looks relatively innocent, but don't be fooled. There's a hidden arsonist in her that is always ready to come out when she's angry.

Hestia has a 'I'm not mad, just extremely disappointed and upset' Mom Look that has sent people bawling their eyes out and begging for her forgiveness with just one glance

She is the oldest of the Olympia siblings, but as a child had a frail and weak body. Kronos wanted to get rid of her since she was 'useless and couldn't be wed off', but Rhea, their mother, begged and pleaded Kronos to let her live. For some unknown reason, Kronos complied.

Her brothers are all very protective of her

YOU DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, MAKE HER ANGRY

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Aella Teresi AGE & BIRTH DATE. Unknown & 3000+ GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Dryad OCCUPATION. Unemployed FACE CLAIM. Anya Chalotra

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: murder, death ) Greek history remembers her as an Amazon. Aella, follower of Queen Hippolyta, famed warrior who wielded a labrys with precision. The truth is a bit more shrouded than that. While it’s true that she did live and fight amongst the Amazons, Aella was created by the hands of Gaia. It was the age of titans, when tree of purple flowers sprung up through the earth, and from it emerged a woman of matching eyes fresh into the world. She was a healer, tasked as a caretaker of the world, both human and plants alike. With curious eyes, she watched as the world grew, and the birth of the Olympians that would one day dominate the skies. 

Her first companion came in the form of Artemis. The goddess had come to the mountains none too far from Aella’s tree to hunt with her bow, and it was in such a land that the two met. It was she who taught the dryad how to hunt, the way to send an arrow through the sky with a marksman’s precision, though Aella was quick to realize her preference for a weapon in hand to swing. As the world of men grew, it was to the mountains that she would retreat to find Artemis, to watch the young deity grow through her girlhood into the fierce goddess she would become, and even made company of her brother Apollo from time to time. It was a life away from the mortal world, ignoring Gaia’s instruction to look after man, but Aella never found fault in it. Young and naïve, she was content to remain in such a place forever. 

But eventually, the world of humanity did come knocking. It was Otrera who found Aella’s tree first. A lover of Ares, and worshiper of Artemis, she was a warrior woman like the dryad had never seen of mortals before. It was an admiration that soon bloomed into friendship, as the goddess’s visits had begun to grow more and more infrequent, and Aella desired new companionship in the form of someone she similarly respected. Otrera intended to create a new society of women, dedicated to the worship of Artemis and the art of battle, who would live separate from the rest of the world of men. She had been the first queen of the Amazons, and it was to her that Aella gifted the wood of her tree. With unbreakable weapons and the fierce nature of the women who wielded them, it was not long before the Amazons grew into warriors of legend.

It was with them that Aella felt most at home. Their city had been built around the dryad’s tree, keeping it’s existence a secret from the world of man, lest they try to attempt to take it for themselves. Though she had been there from their creation, it was not until Hippolyta’s reign that Aella’s name became associated with the Amazons. Legend would mistake her as just another warrior, one of Queen Hippolyta’s retinue, and neither she nor the Amazons disputed the matter otherwise. In the misdirection, Aella and her tree were protected. But the same could not be said for all of the Amazons. 

The arrival of Heracles signaled the beginning of the end for this happy way of life, though Aella had not known it at the time. For the task of his ninth labor, he had been sent to obtain the girdle of Hippolyta. Her queen had gone to meet with him aboard his ship, while the other women were bid to wait ashore. But the whispers of Hera, disguised as a warrior, came to send the Amazons into a frenzy. It was her words that told them the hero intended to kidnap their queen, and so the women began to rush the ship. Alcippe was the first to fall to Heracles’s blade, before chaos completely overran the ship. Aella survived long enough to witness the fall of Hippolyta, to swing her mighty labrys at the head of the son of Zeus, before he cut her down as well. But her story did not end there.

Because Aella was not an Amazon, but a dryad, her death was merely a pause. When she awoke again, she was within her tree fully healed, though days had gone by since the battle. In the end, twelve of the Amazons had died, including the queen that she had loved so much and fought to protect. It was the event that began to turn Aella’s heart hard towards the world of humanity, but men in particular. It was her first true encounter of their gender, aside from the god Apollo she had met in her early life, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth. The Amazons were the only family she knew, and to lose any had been as painful as the cut from Heracles’s blade. Outsider men were not to be trusted, and in Aella’s opinion, any so fool enough as to approach their city should be killed upon sight, before they could inflict any harm upon the women within.

But the loss of the women she considered her sisters was not a one time tragedy. As war came time and time again, the Amazons would leave their sanctuary to heed it’s call, and less of them would come back each time. On the journeys that were not too far from her tree, Aella would accompany them, but the times she found herself left behind were the most unbearable. There was nothing she could do to protect them, save arm them with the best weapons possible to take into battle. But each time one less Amazon returned, it was a stab of mourning to the dryad’s core, like wounds that had been carved into her skin. 

It was during such a time in which the end came for Aella. She doesn’t really remember it, other than simply waiting for the current Queen and her retinue. Few Amazons had been left in their city, and so Aella spent her days inside of her tree. She had been tired more recently, her magic weakening, though for reasons she did not fully understand at the time. Until one day, she simply did not wake up. It was the overthrow of the Titans that meant the dryads had lost their foothold in the world, one that they would not gain again for thousands of years, until the actions of powerful beings playing at god would bring them back. 

When she awoke in the world once more, it was not the same as the one Aella had left. Her home was no more, but more than that, she was gone from it completely. Instead of the center of the Amazonian temple where it once resided, she now found herself within the city of Corinth Bay. It was a great puzzlement to the dryad, who had no true understanding of what had happened in the time between her slumber. The Amazons were gone, she knew that much — time had stolen them away, until she no longer heard their voices around her tree, left to silence for a long time before the sound of man returned. But even so, she had never realized she had been cut away. Her tree had been taken to axe, prized for the beautiful purple flowers it bloomed without the mortals even realizing the power it held. 

While what was left of the original tree had been left to little more than a stump in the wake of their greedy cuts, Aella survived within one of the branches taken away by an earth witch. She was carried to a new land, protected by the magic the witch had placed to ensure the branch would not die, then replanted and grown in a place she had never seen before. To the unknowing world, Aella was little more than pretty decoration, violet blooms to admire every springtime. And until the veil fell, and was subsequently repaired, that was where she stayed. 

But now she has reemerged into the world, a slow wakeup from her long sleep to find that nothing is familiar anymore. The gods have fallen nearly silent, their worship diminished to little more than mere folklore by most. It is not a world that she likes, nor understands, but Aella has no desire to return to such a slumber again. To be left helpless inside of her tree as everyone and everything she loved faded away had been agony, and one she does not intend to endure once again. The wars of men and gods mean little to her anymore, only that she and the other dryads remain protected and safe in this new city. 

PERSONALITY

+ honest, cooperative, decisive - blunt, reckless, resentful

PLAYED BY ABBY. CDT. She/Her.

[littlesparklight]

Do you think Zeus feels guilt-ridden much later over killing Asclepius since he's Apollo's son (his grandson) even though it's probably a cosmic neccesity of mortal population control requested by Hades? And also, knowing how much Apollo loves his children in general.

Probably not really guilty, but knowing how much Apollo loves his children, and considering that he clearly loved Asklepios enough to go on a rampage like he did, Zeus was probably regretful of the necessity? And definitely sympathetic enough both of that love and Apollo being his favourite son, so he has Asklepios raised up and brought to Olympus. I imagine this happening during Apollo’s service with Admetos, so Apollo comes back and is greeted by his son. :) Maybe not a perfect apology, but still a nice gift.

With the whole thing regarding Asklepios, I think it becomes important both to acknowledge the bribes Asklepios accepted (either plain greedy with no greater reason to it, or allowing the bribes to override his good sense about what he should and shouldn’t do), plus Zeus’ acting out of necessity of upholding the cosmic order of resurrecting people fully and completely dead (I don’t think these resurrections should be taken as just happening similar to people being revived today, but rather something more dramatic), and then too Hades being angry his domain is diminishing because of this man. We can have all of them play part, I think! I am very fond of Zeus basically going “my brother is upset and having his domain infringed on? Well of course I will fix that” because proof they have a good relationship, yes thank you.

Apollo’s punishment (whether presumably temporarily to Tartaros or as what happened) is both the regular thing that happens when someone Does a Murder in mythical [Bronze Age] Greece and an extra punishment; exile from your home to someone else’s, who will purify you of the murders, and, in Apollo’s case, servitude to the man doing the purification. Zeus can’t exactly not do at least the very first part, so Asklepios’ resurrection and apotheosis becomes the only way to make up for it - the important part is that now Asklepios is counted among them, and isn’t a mortal raising mortals after they’re firmly dead.

[nikkywrites]

Hi Nikky and best pup! Day 15 question: since you mentioned in an ask before that Poseidon came to be the god of water, how does your work differ from the mythology? How did Calypso come to be the goddess of her domain? (Was it a case of Kraken first god second?)

Hey! Best pup says hi, too!

So to know how this Poseidon is a bit different, we need to talk about the draw of domains and how they each tamed their realm. Zeus made the sticks and knew them, drew the sky on purpose because that was home of Olympus and he wanted to be King. He greedy and afraid that since the war against titans was over, he’d lose his leadership, so he took it. Poseidon drew the ocean and Hades the underworld.

Zeus forced the sky to obey, seized lightning and storm in his fists. Hades sank to the Underworld and built a throne, spoke his place into the air and was accepted easily. The underworld has needed a king of the dead for a while and so it took what came along. Poseidon went to shore and was rejected when he tried to authorize power he didn’t yet have. The ocean is more alive than the sky or underworld and it did not accept Poseidon. He kept trying, stubborn, trying to force it to obey but kept getting tossed out. Zeus was getting impatient, not understanding why Poseidon couldn’t tame the waters like he tamed the sky.

Then Amphitrite rose. Back then, she and Calypso were closer than they are in present day and she watches him for a while. She tells him that he cannot become a god of something that rejects him. If he wishes to craft a crown of the sea, it will have to accept him. Well. It, or one of its patrons will have to share their power. After some bargaining, they make a deal. They wed. Poseidon crafts his gem and coral castle, places his wife there like another piece of decoration and goes back to Olympus, with the sea pounding unwilling in his blood. (Now I kind of want to write this bit, oh no. Is that something people would want to see?)

So they have their domains. Zeus and Poseidon had to fight and cajole for theirs and Hades was just accepted. I think that, if Zeus hadn’t known which stick was which, he would have pulled sea and Poseidon the sky. Then they would not have had to fight for their power to settle. But that’s neither here nor there.

Basically, the ocean did not want Poseidon for a King and made a deal with Amphitrite to be accepted. Since they wed, Amphitrite hardly leaves the castle and loses touch with some of her domain, her connection to the creatures of deep sea severed by her new connection to a god who does not belong in the sea.

As for Calypso, she was goddess first! The way her creation is, is that the ocean itself made her, I think. Not a personification or patron. It took a piece of itself and shaped it into a maiden. And then Calypso was a goddess, like any other. She could have chosen any domain, could have tried to seek Olympus and becomes one of the throned. Instead, she stays. She lays on the ocean floor and whispers a promise to her water, a vow. She will be goddess of all the ocean is, kindness and cruelty, gentle and harsh. The ocean hears her truth (and it’s not a parent, really. It made Calypso but she was not born. She is like any other goddess who is unclaimed) and decides to make that possible. Because Amphitrite cannot pass for a mortal, is too fish-like. The ocean has housed maidens and creatures and beasts and if Calypso is to be patron of all it is, she will have to be all of it.

It grants her her Kraken form. It is a long while between Calypso’s creation and her gift of Kraken, or maybe time passes slower. Calypso explores the ocean and rejects turning to land before she vows herself to it.

Calypso’s creation, is. A long thing. She wasn’t... made on purpose, I think. The ocean just lived and she slowly came to being. I’m not sure exactly when her creation is in relation to gods and all that, but. She’s a sea goddess before Aphrodite leaves, is Kraken already, and she feels Aphrodite’s rejection as she goes. Her creation is complicated and I tried keeping it short.

(And, extra note: when talking about the death and resurrection and different parent things, this changes how Calypso fits into that. If she is made by the ocean and has dual forms than her very being shifts all the time. She adopts the blood of ocean’s first king, of a Titan trapped, of a lesser sea patron. It’s not a willing thing, it’s just her divinity trying to assign her a history, a place of creation that makes sense because the ocean does not create goddesses and it does not bless them to be so powerful. Calypso is meant to be a patron of the sea on a deeper level than any of the others. She is meant for it in a way that strengthens her hold and deepens her influence.)

[vaultofqueenorion]

Take Me To Olympus #19

Hiya people!

We are nearing the final arc of the story, and I am excited about what's to come - there will be heartbreak and just plain brokenness, but I promise you that it will all be worth it in the end (even if Julia does NOT think so).

Now go forth and enjoy this week's chapter!

The First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Next chapter

//

Knocking on Olympus’ door

“Are you kidding me?” Julia said, flinging out her arms. The portal hung silently in the air, showing white marble beyond it. “You want him here?”

A woman clad in a black flowy dress stepped through, her dark hair a frizz around her head. Hades rushed forward, drawing a few lines on the sphere protecting in front of him and gave the woman a tight hug.

“He wouldn’t know what to do with himself here. I’ve seen the news of this world - with no magic, Zeus wouldn’t stand a chance traipsing around and courting women.”

Julia had already started shaking her head when the first word had left Hera’s mouth. “He’s a God. The King of them, in fact. And you all seem to be getting your magic back - how do you know he won’t?”

“Oh he will.” Hades peeked up from where he had buried his face in the woman’s hair, looking from Hera to Julia. “My brother might not be the smartest, but there is a chaotic energy to this world - it’s something that I’ve never experienced before.”

“Yeah, then maybe you should have left it alone,” Julia said. Then she turned to Hera. “Why don’t you just divorce him and leave it at that? Leave the rest of the world out of it, thank you.”

“I am saving the world from him,” Hera said, her teeth like slashes in the light coming from the runes below her. “He will see his errors or we will leave without him.”

“You’re a selfish, petty Goddess,” Julia said. Hera’s eyes narrowed, but Julia continued. “I thought you were supposed to be the protector of women; of families. I thought you would free yourself from the prejudice and destruction that had been wrought to your image. I guess I was wrong.”

She had gone up against two Gods now, and while she had by no means won, she was still alive.

That had to count for something, right?

“But fine. If you want to play shaper of the world’s fate - if you would like to condemn it to the same fate that you have been bound by for millenia, then go ahead.”

She turned on her heel, hearing the muffled sound of voices on the other side of the portal.

“Just get the hell out of my apartment while you do it.”

She managed to get outside before her bad leg gave out. She almost sent a silent thanks to the Gods for that, but she was afraid that Hera might hear.

With a bit of trouble, she lowered herself to the ground, sliding against the warehouse on one foot. At least the ground wasn’t wet. Her shirt stuck to her back, the blood beginning to coagulate.

Julia fished her phone out of her pocket, tapping the screen. When that didn’t work, she tried the power button. Her reflection in the black screen stared back at her before being obscured by droplets.

She closed her eyes.

“It really is something different here,” Hermes said, the dirt beside her crunching as he sat down. “I think it’s the people. It is so different from the ones who worship us.”

Julia bent her knees and hugged them to her chest. “Yeah. We have no demigods or blessed people to help us out. No Fates to decide what happens. Whatever cruelty we come up with, only comes from our weak, mortal minds.”

A breath of wind glazed over her tear stained cheeks as Hermes moved. She could care less whether he went with the other Gods - it was game over for this world. Stuck as a plaything between the hands of greedy giants.

A pair of ever shifting hands grabbed her arms, gently pulling them from her knees and drawing them away from her body until she felt the same hands on her own.

“On the contrary,” Hermes said, and Julia opened her eyes, tears blurring her vision of the God. But even so, she could see the glint that simmered there, mischief almost burning its way out of his soul. “You have never known true binding. We are but fairytales to you - myths of great power. Scary stories to tell your children.”

She let herself be dragged to her feet, almost mesmerized by the promise in his eyes. The God of Travelers in more ways than one, it seemed.

“And so, you have found ways to create your own magic. This,” - Julia hadn’t realized until now that he was waving it in her face that he had snatched the dead phone out of her hands - “Could have never survived in the world we come from. We control inventions there - if something as powerful as this would be capable of connecting the humans of our world, we would never have power over them again.

“And the wonders you have found - medicine, cities blooming from the ground and up, ways of traveling that could match even us.” He bent down and placed a light touch on her foot, and Julia felt the pain subside. “We might be able to do magnificent things, but we will never do something new. We cannot reinvent ourselves as you do, bound by the Fates as we are.”

Testing her foot, Julia found herself reaching out for him, touching his arm lightly. His eyes had filled with a sadness that seemed to color them blue, even with the greens, browns and grays that flittered over them.

“You were never bound by anything but the expectations you hold yourselves to,” she said, eyes soft. “You let yourself be controlled by the dictation of others - you might not be able to change who you are completely, but you can control how you use the gifts you were given.”

It occurred to her that she had been lecturing and giving life advice to quite a few Gods and Goddesses in the short time that they had been there. It made her feel just a little bit hysterical, the adrenaline getting ready to pump through her veins yet again.

Perhaps she could start an official business, now that they were all coming to her world anyways.

“You would never understand,” Hermes said, pulling away from her and letting out a deep sigh. “Our paths were laid years ago. Even the most erratic and spontaneous of us were always contained in some way or another.”

At the pain in his voice, she stepped closer. She touched his arm again, but this time, she kept it still, feeling him stiffen beneath her touch. “Did the prophecies and Fates and Oracles warn you of this?”

The ghost of a smile flitted over his face, disappearing so fast that Julia thought she might have imagined it, if it wasn’t for the steel solidifying in his eyes.

“They did know,” Hermes said, the smile coming back. It was every bit as wide as the one Hera had sent her when she had gone feral, and Julia took a step back.

She didn’t make it far, though, because she was quickly enveloped in a tight hug.

“They knew all along,” Hermes whispered in her ear. “And now I know how we become myths in your world. Perhaps Hades was right. We still stand a chance.”

There was a flutter of movement, like a cloud of butterflies flying into her face, and when Julia deemed it safe to open her eyes again, the God of Travel and Thieves was gone.

“The question is,” she said to no one in particular. “Do I really want to find out?”

“That is an important question isn’t it?” Miranda seemed to have appeared out of thin air, her wrinkled face ever smiling. “Are you ready to believe in Fate?”

Julia narrowed her eyes before leaning back on her hands. “You always knew, didn’t you?”

It added up, now that she thought about it. Miranda had moved into the apartment shortly after Julia, and the old woman had been quick to reach out and establish friendly connections with her. She had always dropped by at the right moment, always been there when Julia needed a little extra something.

“The Oracle never dies,” Miranda said, sitting down besides Julia and staring into thin air. “It is the blessing and the curse of existence.”

“Why did you have to pull me into all of this, though?” Julia muttered, feeling the hollowness growing inside her, even though she refused to acknowledge the Deity-shaped hole that the betrayal had left her. “Why did my perfectly adequate existence have to be turned around because of the whims of the Fates?”

A croaking laugh made its way past Miranda’s lips, her eyes glittering as she looked at Julia. “Nothing was ever made by the Fates. They merely oversee the flow of time. So do I, in a way, but people tend to give the four of us too much credit when really, all we do is see probabilities.”

She leaned back, grunting in pain as her joints cracked. “Prophecies are self-fulfilling, you know. And behavior becomes predictable after a while.” A glance at Julia. “I mean, I didn’t have to see into the future to predict the exact rhythm of your day before the Deities dropped in.”

Julia gave a slight smile at that. “I guess I was kind of stuck,” she said, her shoulders slumping inwards. “But I still don’t see the point of the Greek Pantheon getting hurtled into the future.”

“Are you really sure that there has been no point to this whole ordeal? You didn’t learn the slightest thing about yourself and your friends?” Miranda gave a mischievous smile, continuing on before Julia had the chance to protest. “And even if it was all a waste, the Fates weren’t the ones who facilitated it. The Deities themselves did.”

“I don’t understand,” Julia said as she scratched at the back of her head. “Why would they do that?”

“You’re not the only one who’s been feeling a little stuck,” the flicker of a smile was still there as Miranda turned on her heel and began walking away.

“Am I just supposed to put up with what they did, then?” Julia said after her, her hands bracing against the cold ground. “Hades tried to murder me.”

“Didn’t you listen, dear child?” Miranda said, glancing over her shoulder. “You aren’t supposed to do anything. The floor is yours.”

Then she turned a corner, and when Julia limped over to check, the old Oracle had disappeared into thin air.

Damn them all to the deepest pits of the world.

She gave a frustrated sigh, clenching her hands at her sides. “Murderous, conniving, manipulative petty creatures,” she grumbled through gritted teeth.

Turning, she found Hera, Hades and the dark-haired and dark skinned woman that must have been Persephone all staring at her with various degrees of smiles on their faces.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Hera drawled, something that Julia couldn’t quite decipher glinting in her eyes. Then they hardened. “I thought you’d have gone back to your normal life again. You couldn’t wait to get away.”

“You did both try to rip me apart today,” Julia replied, her throat dry. But she held on to Hera’s gaze. “I’m surprised you would want to spend a minute longer than absolutely necessary in this world - with us mortals.”

Persephone looked from one to the other, and then up at Hades who still had traces of blue blood on his face even if the nose seemed to have healed. Confusion marred her face before it turned into pure anger, and she hurried over to Julia.

“May I?” She said, her eyes filled with worry and warmth.

“I guess it can’t hurt,” Julia replied, steeling herself as to not flinch when the Goddess of Spring bent down and laid a hand on her leg.

“Hades you utter fool. I’d expect this sort of thing from Zeus or Hera but never from you.” Persephone’s hands sent relief through Julia as the Goddess spoke, the pain ebbing away with each passing moment. “This is unacceptable. Letting yourself be consumed by magic just to break through? You should have waited.”

“I couldn’t,” Hades replied, pain shining in his eyes. He looked away when Julia tried to meet them before seemingly forcing himself to look at her. “I am really sorry, Julia. I never meant to hurt you. But my power is cracking at the seams.”

Persephone gasped and straightened herself, getting to work on Julia’s shoulder. Meanwhile, Hera’s mouth became a thin line.

“Cracking at the seams?” Julia said, tentatively bringing more weight onto her bad leg. The throbbing had stopped. “What does that mean?”

“It means that we’re nearing the end,” Hera said, inspecting her nails.

“Oh stop being so cryptic,” Persephone said, stepping away from Julia. “You’re all done. There might be a bit of an ache during the next couple of days but that should be over sooner rather than later.

“Now, onto the question of power. We’ve long had a prophecy hanging over our heads that we’d feel our power cracking and leaking into the world around the end of days. Or, at least the end of Gods.”

“There were no signs of it on Olympus, and most of us laughed at the Oracle when she made the prophecy, because Gods can’t die,” Hades said. He scratched at his neck, his hands twitching with the effort not to reach out for Persephone. “But then we ended up here. We got a taste of mortality-”

“Yes, and our powers are returning. It was quite a spell that you and Hermes just performed in there,” Hera said, cutting off Hades. She sent him a glare. “Why didn’t you say that you were cracking?”

“Because you already knew.”

Hera turned silent at that.

“Wait, what are you saying? You’ve ushered in the end of Gods or something?” Julia was trying to keep up, but it was getting late and her head was spinning from the adrenaline that she’d had to burn through.

“Not just the end of Gods,” Hades said, the shadows creeping back into his eyes. “When we crack apart, so does the prison that we made so long ago.”

For the first time, Hera looked sick. “Kronos will come crawling back.”

[fly-pow-bye]

DuckTales 2017 - "New Gods on the Block!"

Story by: Francisco Angones, Madison Bateman, Colleen Evanson, Megan Gonzalez, Christian Magalhaes, Ben Siemon, Bob Snow

Written by: Megan Gonzalez

Storyboard by: Sam King, Kathryn Marusik, Stephan Park

Directed by: Jason Zurek

Does this episode have the right stuff?

Scrooge and company have reached the Helmet of Hengis Khan, which is currently being guarded by a bunch of giant silkworms! Just take my word for it. However, Scrooge is ready, and knows that his nephews and honorary niece are up to the task to take on those mere worms. He's got Huey, the planner, Dewey and Webby are good as the distraction, and Louie is just good at doing something greedy like snatching the helmet while the silkworms are distracted. They lock hands together, a universal showing that they are an inseparable team, and Dewey does one of his classic one-liners to start this amazing fight scene.

In fact, the fight scene was so amazing, it just couldn't be animated.

Instead, we suddenly cut to the kids walking through the door of the Manor, where we learn that the fight scene would have amazing for the silkworms rather than the Ducks, as they have apparently failed. Outside of a few lines suggesting that Huey's inability to predict the unpredictable was a major factor in it, they don't go much further than the mission was a failure. They didn't seem to get any battle damage from them at the very least. I'm obviously not expecting blood, but I would think their hair would be a little messed up.

While Della couldn't predict that this mission would be a failure, as she had confetti cannons and a giant banner ready for what she assumed would be their triumphant return, she does tells her kids exactly what happens when Scrooge fails, something she should know from participating in countless adventures with him. First comes the wallowing, then the anger, then he just shakes it off and comes up with a new plan. Webby decides to add to that; each failure is just a reason for the team to grow. Scrooge tells Webby that is a great idea: he should grow the team by getting better, more experienced people to join it!

In other words, after trusting Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby ever since they proved themselves in the first episode, this one failed mission that didn't even get a scratch on their clothing gives Scrooge a reason to abandon them for a different team. On one hand, a team of non-children would be better for Scrooge's PR, but on the other hand, this just feels like an overreaction to make this plot work. Della seems to agree; she tells the kids that they would be able to handle whatever is going to barge through that door. No, she did not put it that way, but she may as well have.

In comes Zeus, Selene, and Storkules, a trio of gods from the Greek pantheon. The moon goddess Selene and the demi-god Storkules have successful taken the now former god of lightning/king of the gods Zeus's godly wreath, and now he's merely just a powerless jerk rather than a jerk that can smite people. As Selene says, he hasn't done anything good since locking up the Titans, a reference to the original myths, so it was coming to him.

Why are they here? Because they now need a god who can take his place in the Olympus pantheon, and they each have their own idea that happens to currently be in the Mansion. Storkules thinks it should be Donald, Selene thinks it should be Della, and Zeus thinks it should be himself. I can't help but think Storkules and Selene are not even trying to hide who their true loves are among the mortals. Nobody tell Penny.

As the children mope about how the gods surely wouldn't choose them if even Scrooge couldn't, Della decides to reject it and say her kids and kids' friend deserve it instead. What Della would do if she had the powers of Olympus will forever remain a mystery. Selene is convinced because, while they're children, they're still less immature than her father, who still threatens to smite people with lightning despite not having any powers anymore. I still like this slightly more accurate to the original myths version of Zeus.

As the children mope about how the gods surely wouldn't choose them if even Scrooge couldn't, Della decides to reject it and say her kids and kids' friend deserve it instead. What Della would do if she had the powers of Olympus will forever remain a mystery. Selene is convinced because, while they're children, they're still less immature than her father, who still threatens to smite people with lightning despite not having any powers anymore. I still like this slightly more accurate to the original myths version of Zeus.

Storkules wasn't there to see this plan change, as his candidate for godhood was still in the houseboat preparing his houseboat. After Donald takes out the garbage, Storkules bursts through the door and gives his friend of friends the biggest hug, and is impressed that he even prepared a celebratory feast as if he knew what Storkules was about to offer him.

Much like Della, what Donald would do if she had the powers of Olympus will forever remain a mystery, because he's got bigger plans on this day. That celebratory feast was actually him preparing for a big date with the only person who can stand his singing.

Don't worry, Storkules takes his friend of friends going on a date with someone else very well. Maybe a bit too well, and it's not just to Donald's chagrin, as he decides to do a labor worthy of being among the twelve he did that one time: make the perfect wedding feast! Anyone who knows this character will know where this is going.

It's also pretty predictable where the other half of the episode is going, even if I did think at least one of them would have done better than the others. Selene decides to give Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby each a chance to prove their worth on being in the pantheon. They each decide on an ability similar to the ones in the myths, they get a little test run at a random location, and, if they fail, Selene can just clap or snap her fingers and everything reverts back to normal. Even if she didn't reveal the last one, it would be just too good this early on if we had any victors here.

Louie wants to be the God of Fortune, so he gets the Louie Touch, which he instantly trademarks despite being a clear knockoff of a certain king's. This is most likely because he never really heard of the tales of King Midas's golden touch, as he ends up turning the entire park he was put in into gold. This includes a dog. Not a dog-person, a dog much like in real life.

Huey wants to be the God of Intuition, so he gets the power of prophecy, similar to Cassandra minus the "nobody believing him" problem. In fact, he has the opposite problem; Huey doesn't seem to catch the hint that telling the misfortunes that are going to happen to people aren't going to make people happy. It doesn't help that his powers are causing his brain to expand.

Webby wants to be the Goddess of Friendship Sunshine Get-A-Long Time, so she ends up being able to control the weather. Oddly enough, controlling the weather was one of Zeus's specialties in the original myths, so this should give her the biggest chance out of all of them since this is supposed to be "who is going to replace Zeus." Unfortunately, just giving the boardwalk a sunny day and getting Glomgold off of a kiddie ride he had been hogging doesn't cause everyone to hug, so she ends up striking everything with lightning in the end. With Webby becoming mad with power in the span of a minute, I don't wonder how Zeus ended up the way he did.

Dewey apparently wants to be the God of Dance, and tries to woo the judge with a dance. Even if he didn't manage to torment a random location to the point where it would have to be reversed by a moon goddess's snap, the lack of any god powers disqualifies him as well. I know it can barely be seen in that screenshot, but that reaction from Selene makes this whole scene even funnier.

It's not like these abilities aren't fitting, but it's such a foregone conclusion that they were going to fail these tests spectacularly that it just felt predictable.

While these trials are happening, Zeus decides to call up one of his more notorious brothers: Hades, god of the underworld. Despite only showing up as an unknown number, which would make sense even if Zeus was calling from a cell phone of his own rather than Scrooge's house phone, he picks up to hear the voice of the guy that trapped him in a world surrounded by bones. He's not too happy about his situation, needless to say.

Following in the footsteps of not following the Disney version of the Greek pantheon besides Hercules being treated as a 100% god, Hades is more like a goth who doesn't really care about anything. He doesn't go with Zeus's idea of causing an undead rebellion, reminding Zeus that he's too busy keeping the Titans locked up, which gives Zeus a different idea. Hades won't be involved with this idea, as, other than revealing that one of the few things that delights him now is Zeus being powerless, he decides not to do anything else. Despite this, it's neat to see this amount of world-building with the pantheon, and it makes me wonder if we'll see him again.

Being failures at being Scrooge's teammates and Greek gods, we get another mope scene. Scrooge actually calls this his "special ops" team, which makes me think that Scrooge actually wanted a different team for different situations, and it seems like they're hinting at an ending that would cast Scrooge in a better light: he was just planning a B team. Such a shame that doesn't really come up anywhere else.

I think the other plot is better, with Hercules acting like the unwanted friend getting in the way of Donald and Daisy's date, and it eventually falls apart. Even with Storkules in the background holding a tied up Cupid, a part of one of his earlier plans, one can really feel Donald's pain as he floats in a garbage-filled pool. This feeling of pain is even shown in-universe, as the normally oblivious Storkules decides to get some help.

Sadly, he goes to his father, Zeus, completely devastated that he had forsaken his best friend, and asks what he could do to help out two people in love. Zeus tells a story about how Hera fell in love with him after he defeated the titans, and that if Storkules can defeat one of them, maybe they'll be impressed. He laments that it's too bad there's no god with god-like strength that can unleash one of them.

To make a long story short, Storkules hits the ground, a titan comes out, Scrooge and the rest come out to see this madness, and the titans ends up eating Donald right in front of Daisy's eyes. I love this line that reveals, among other things, that Donald is still okay:

Storkules: (keeping the titan from eating Daisy) Don't worry, we can salvage this!

Daisy: You killed my boyfriend!

Donald: "My boyfriend"? (reveals to be in the Titans see-through stomach, still indigested) Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!

It reminds me of that scene in Coco. I can't spoil it, but there's a similar line there that also made me smile.

Della and Scrooge are climbing up the titan, Shadow of the Colossus style, where they talk about the other plot. This is their way to get the plots to converge, and it’s a good idea. In fact, while this goes against the idea that Scrooge was merely trying to expand his team rather than remove his kin from it, Scrooge getting confronted with his negligence while trying to deal with an even bigger problem is a pretty powerful moment.

The stakes are set pretty high, as the titan manages to turn pretty much everyone except for Daisy and the kids into dinner. Even Selene, the one that could reverse problems with the snap of her finger and the character that was pretty much treated as the Queen of the Gods until now, as Hera is only mentioned, manages to get caught in the titan's grasp, dropping the godly crown on the ground as she joins the rest of the party in this titan's stomach. Considering all of this eating of his fellow gods and mortals, maybe this titan is meant to be Cronus. He even manages to do what Cronus wanted to do in the original myths.

Whether or not that generic titan is Cronus or not, that victory doesn't last too long, as we get this really cool scene where Daisy manages to startle the titan with her own roar, and, using that as a distraction, Webby takes the crown, splits it up, and gives herself and her friends the god powers they wanted. While I wasn't that much of a fan of this plot, I can safely say it ends really well. Not only does Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby prove themselves as helpers of Scrooge, but kids worthy of have the powers of Greek myth. The latter doesn't last, of course, but still, it's great.

In the end, everything seems to work out just fine, and I really do mean everything, as the other plot also ends very well. While I don't want to ruin the moment, I'll say this: I find it very funny that Zeus ended up helping with Storkules' problem in the end, even if it wasn't his intention.

How does it stack up?

At first, I was a little miffed on this episode; I just don't think Scrooge would just throw away his team just because they failed miserably on one mission, especially in an episode after he trusted them so much, and especially after the episode after the one where he outright recruited one of them to go through his deadly danger dungeon. However, this episode has plenty of ways for me to forgive that: the scenes with Donald and Daisy, the cool god powers in the end, and Zeus being Zeus all throughout.

Still, this ended up being just merely in the middle for me.

Next, we get to see an Scrooge adventure with young Della for the first time outside of the IDW comics!

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