#in greek mythology...there's triumph and victory

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

Why Jason Grace is The Most Tragic Character in the Riordanverse

*in no way is this trying to dial down Nico's own suffering, I'm just stating my case for Jason because godsdamn SOMEBODY needs to say it!*

@most-tragic-character-tournament here's propoganda i came out guns ablazing

List of why fans are saying Nico:

Lost his mother

lost years of his life

found out he was a demigod at age 10

lost sister at 10

rough relationship with his dad

closeted gay

crush is madly in love with somebody else

forced to come out

List of why Jason is more tragic:

Lost his mom to alcoholism/mental decline

Lost his ENTIRE FUCKING CHILDHOOD because Said Mom gave him up to Juno to be raised by a PACK OF WOLVES who would've EATEN HIM if he was WEAK FOR EVEN A SECOND - AS A FUCKING TWO YEAR OLD

Was a trained demigod FROM THE GET-GO (again, TWO YEARS OLD)

Because of previously stated separation, was TAKEN FROM HIS SISTER WHO LOVED HIM SO MUCH SHE RAN AWAY BECAUSE SHE COULDN'T TAKE THE GUILT AND FEAR AND RAGE THAT FILLED HER AT HIS ABSENCE

Was set up into a "perfect" relationship by Juno/Hera WHILE HAVING HIS MEMORIES TAKEN

Jason may not have had the awful forced outting Nico had to go through, but...that's not really his fault? Nobody has any control over their sexual identity, and Jason? Well. He never really got to explore it. Because that was taken from him too.

Thinks he LOST LEO VALDEZ, ONE OF HIS ACTUAL FIRST FRIENDS, WHO LIKED HIM FOR HIM AND NOT BECAUSE OF HIS STATUS

FORCED TO COMPLY TO A DEMANDING SOCIETY THAT EXALTED HIM FROM DAY 1 BECAUSE HIS DAD IS THE OH-SO-IMPORTANT JUPITER (*cough victim of nepotism cough*)

AND WHEN HE TRIES TO COMBAT THAT NEPOTISM HE KEEPS GETTING PUSHBACK UNTIL HE FALTERS

then. then his girlfriend breaks up with him - not because of any drama, or even a disagreement, but over a very valid point

their relationship didn't exactly start out very...honestly. Jason had been mind-wiped of all memories and Piper had fake ones implanted into her to make her think she liked Jason as more than a friend. sure. they had a pretty nice relationship, but when everything slowed down and they took a look at their lives?

Piper's the one who sees it first, and makes the decision. Jason is heartbroken, but understands - he even, dare I say, agrees that they should end the relationship. it was built on fake memories - you could say it was built on lies.

and now Jason has this opportunity to step back and analyze who he is and what he wants.

what he finds is depressing. everything he's had, everything's he's been up till now...

it's not him.

he never wanted to be raised by Lupa and her wolves.

he never wanted to be Jupiter's son

he never wanted to be the exalted leader Camp Jupiter praised him for

From day 1 his life was somebody else's. his first steps were under the tutelage of a wolf, not of the loving eyes of his sister

Camp Jupiter only ever saw him as the demigod to be praised and turn to above all others, even before he became praetor.

Jason's life...was never his own.

and now that he's away from all that pressure and expectation...he doesn't know who he is.

Son of Jupiter?

Champion of Juno?

Praetor of the Twelfth Legion?

Member of the Prophesized Seven?

Hero of Olympus?

no. he was never himself under these names.

he was never...Jason.

but maybe now he could start navigating his own life. without some god intervening for once. this would be good for him, and for Piper, to find their own way.

but then. then they talk to Herophile...and find out one of them will die. And Jason? Well, he's not going to let Piper be taken from the life she deserves. he may not be her boyfriend, her knight in shining armor, but he sure as HELL loves her - especially as a friend. And if there's one thing you should know about Jason? It's that he loves his friends.

so what does he do? He sacrifices himself. He duels Caligula himself, and urges Piper, Meg, and Apollo to Go, save yourselves! and -

he's stabbed. through the chest. the only thing he can do? Look to Apollo, to the blue gaze so much like his own drenched in horror, and ask; Remember. because he didn't get to live the life he wished, but maybe Apollo could - no, Apollo can, he can make the difference Jason wanted. Because he trusts Apollo.

Jason doesn't regret his sacrifice. he saved Piper from the prophecy, after all. He saved Apollo & Meg's lives too.

in fact, Jason didn't really mind dying. Because he didn't have much of a life either. And a life like that? shrug It's worth sacrificing for those who deserve theirs.

and as icing on the cake, remember who Jason's father is? The almighty, all-powerful Jupiter himself, King of the Gods?

he doesn't do a damn thing to help Jason. Not a single. Thing.

because Jupiter/Zeus doesn't care about his children. Especially his sons.

Zeus saved Thalia. But he didn't even try to save Jason.

Trying would have at least lessened the pain...

People like to claim Jason is a bland, boring character who's never suffered a minute in his life. That he's a golden retriever with no flaws.

Well.

Take a look up there and ask yourself - it that the life of a boy who knows no suffering?

Because it sure as hell don't look that way to me.

To me, it looks like Jason was a used, depressed young man who never got to choose his own path. Who's father abandoned him first to his wife's mercy, then to a cruel emperor's.

Jason Grace suffered.

and he never got to live that happy life he saw within the Fates.

Never got to get that family, those grandchildren he saw himself telling the story of the Argo II to.

Because The Fall of Jason Grace is a true, utter tragedy.

[panakinthedisco]

PART 1 | HEAVEN ━━ Marcus Acacius

summary: acacius' mother forged a blood pact with the goddess of love, vowing to safeguard and elevate her son, while dedicating her life as a delphi in return. through all general acacius' triumphs, you as the daughter of venus deftly orchestrated his victory as promised but then gradually nurturing a forbidden attachment.

author's note: don't get me started how i almost died with the trailer and the photos of papi pedroooooo so i had to do this (also i can use my greek mythology knowledge for some good use) so yup reader is an immortal goddess and possibly daughter of venus, idfc anymore because i'm making my own lore! they're going to be arwen and aragorn-esque ending coz i eat those kind of tropes lmfao

warnings: eventual smut to later chapters. mentions of misogyny, violence and also implications of sexual abuse.

word count: 4.4k

In the heart of a desolate village, a young woman stood at the fringes of society, shunned and abandoned for bearing the child of a powerful general. Clutching her infant son tightly to her chest, she wandered aimlessly, her heart heavy with despair and fear. The whispers of the villagers echoed in her mind, a cacophony of judgment and scorn. Tears streamed down her face as she made her way to the grand temple of Venus, the goddess of love, her last beacon of hope.

The temple, with its towering marble columns and intricate carvings, loomed before her like a sanctuary in the midst of her turmoil. The air grew thick with an impending storm as she fell to her knees at the entrance, her cries piercing the silence of the sacred place. "Great Venus, goddess of love and mercy," she sobbed, her voice trembling, "I beg of you, protect my son and guide us, for we have nowhere else to go. I fear for his life, for he is innocent."

As her desperate pleas echoed within the hallowed halls, the wind suddenly picked up, swirling around her with a fierce intensity. The sky darkened, and the deafening roar of thunder cracked through the air. In the midst of this tempest, a radiant light descended upon the temple. From the ethereal glow emerged a figure of unparalleled beauty, clothed in pure white robes that flowed like water.

Venus, the goddess of love, knelt before the fallen woman. Her presence was divine, her skin like alabaster, flawless and luminous. Her eyes, a captivating shade of deep blue, held the wisdom of the ages and the compassion of a thousand hearts. Golden hair cascaded down her back in waves, shimmering as if woven from sunlight. A gentle smile graced her lips, exuding warmth and serenity.

"Rise, my child," Venus spoke, her voice a melodious symphony that filled the air with hope. "Do not despair, for I have heard your cries and felt your anguish. I can offer you and your son protection, but it comes with a price. You must dedicate your life to me, serve as my devotee, and in return, I shall ensure your son’s safety and guide you both to a brighter future."

The young woman, overwhelmed by the goddess's presence and her words, gazed into the loving eyes of Venus. With unwavering determination and gratitude, she nodded. "I will do as you ask, great goddess. My life is yours to command, if it means my son will be safe."

Venus gently lifted the woman to her feet, her touch tender and reassuring. "Then it shall be so. From this moment forth, you are under my protection. Fear not, for love shall guide your path, and together, we shall overcome all obstacles." 

With that, the storm subsided, leaving behind a serene sky. The young woman, now filled with renewed hope and purpose, cradled her son as they both embraced the divine path laid before them by the goddess of love.

Years had gone by, the once forsaken young woman found solace and purpose as a devoted Delphi. She served with unwavering faith, her every breath a testament to the sacred bond she had formed with the goddess of love. Her son, Acacius, grew under the protective aegis of the temple, receiving the finest education and training from the wise sorceresses who resided there. His days were filled with rigorous training and study, molding him into a formidable warrior.

One golden afternoon, the courtyard of the temple buzzed with activity. Acacius, now a young man of remarkable prowess, moved with grace and strength as he sparred with his fellow trainees. His body, chiseled and powerful, gleamed with sweat under the sun. Every muscle in his arms and chest rippled with the precision and control honed through years of discipline. His jawline was sharp, his dark hair tousled, and his piercing eyes focused, exuding an aura of confidence and determination.

From a distance, Venus, resplendent in her divine beauty, emerged from the temple accompanied by you, her daughter. Venus’ robes flowed like liquid moonlight, and her presence illuminated the courtyard. While you, whose divine essence shimmered with an ethereal glow, stood by your mother’s side, your eyes subtly observing Acacius as he trained vigorously.

"Look at him, my daughter," Venus spoke, her voice a soothing melody. "Acacius’ mother devoted her life to serving as a Delphi, and it is now your duty to watch over him. He has grown into a man of great potential."

You were hesitant and prideful, replied, "Mother, surely I am capable of far more important tasks than merely watching over a mortal."

Venus laughed, "Ah, my dear, I see great things in Acacius. I made an unbreakable oath to his mother to protect him and guide him to victory. This task is of utmost importance, and you, my daughter, are perfectly suited for it."

Reluctantly, you agreed, though you felt the weight of the responsibility. As Venus gracefully returned to the temple, your gaze lingered on Acacius. You had watched him grow from a vulnerable child into the powerful warrior he had become. His masculine form, sculpted by relentless training, was a testament to his dedication and strength. His broad shoulders, strong arms, and defined torso were a sight to behold, each movement exuding a raw, magnetic energy.

As the daughter of Venus, you had spent millennia observing the ways of mortals. From the heights of the celestial realm to the depths of human existence, you had witnessed the endless cycles of birth, love, ambition, and vanity that defined their ephemeral lives. Mortal men, in particular, seemed ensnared by their own reflections, driven by a relentless pursuit of power, beauty, and validation. Their obsessions with vanity, you mused, were like chains binding them to an endless quest for an ever-elusive perfection.

In the sanctity of your divine solitude, you pondered these thoughts, your mind weaving through the countless interactions you had with mortals over the ages. Vanity, you concluded, was a double-edged sword. It spurred men to greatness but also led them to their downfall. How often have you seen warriors, poets, and kings, their hearts consumed by the desire for eternal youth, adoration, and glory? They built monuments to themselves, adorned their bodies in opulent garb, and sought the fleeting approval of their peers, all the while neglecting the deeper virtues of humility, wisdom, and compassion.

Living among mortals, you had grown accustomed to their ways, understanding the fragile nature of their existence. Yet, with each passing century, you have grown more disillusioned by their unchanging flaws. Despite the wisdom imparted by time and the guidance of the gods, mortals remained predictably obsessed with their own image.

When your mother, Venus, entrusted you with the responsibility of watching over Acacius, you could not help but feel a familiar pang of skepticism. Was he not just another man, destined to be ensnared by the same vanities as those before him? Despite his formidable strength and the disciplined mind he had cultivated, you feared that beneath his heroic exterior lay the same vulnerabilities that had claimed countless others.

As you observed Acacius from the shadows, your thoughts grew heavier. You remembered how, as a boy, he had shown signs of the same traits that plagued mortal men: the pride in his burgeoning strength, the flicker of arrogance in his victories, and the longing in his eyes for recognition and admiration. He seemed no different from the countless men who had walked the earth, striving for greatness yet ultimately ensnared by their own hubris.

Your divine heart, though swayed by eons of witnessing human folly, felt a curious twinge as she watched him. There was something about Acacius, a glimmer of potential, that both made you intrigued and worried. Could he break the cycle? Or would he, too, succumb to the inevitable downfall of vanity?

As you silently vowed to fulfill her mother’s promise, you found yourself grappling with an unexpected sense of protectiveness. Despite your reservations, there was an undeniable bond formed by watching him grow, a reluctant admiration for his resilience and strength. You feared for him, not because you doubted his abilities, but because she understood the weight of his mortality.

With a sigh, you resigned yourself to the task. "Acacius may be like other men," you thought, "but perhaps there lies within him a spark of something more." You would watch over him, guide him, and protect him from the shadows, ever vigilant and ever hopeful that he might transcend the very vanities that ensnared his kind. As the daughter of Venus, you knew that love and duty were bound by unbreakable threads, and you would honor them both, even if it meant confronting your own doubts and fears.

As you observed him and embedded in your own thoughts, Acacius suddenly paused and turned his head, his sharp eyes meeting yours across the courtyard. Startled, you quickly retreated into the shadows, your divine essence blending with the darkened corners of the temple. 

Hidden from view, your heart pounded. You realized the gravity of your new role, feeling a mixture of trepidation and an unspoken bond with the man she would protect and guide. As Acacius resumed his training, unaware of the divine eyes watching over him, you knew this won’t be an easy responsibility. 

As the daughter of Venus, you have watched over Acacius from the shadows, your divine presence hidden but your influence ever-present. From the moment he drew his sword, you felt the weight of your mother's promise pressing upon your shoulders, a vow to guide and protect him, to steer him towards greatness. Acacius was more than a mortal; he was the culmination of a divine pact, and your duty to him was as sacred as the bond forged between his mother and Venus.

In his youth, you whispered wisdom into the ears of his mentors, guiding their hands as they trained him in the arts of war and leadership. You ensured that the best teachers found their way to him, that he learned not only the strategies of battle but also the virtues of honor, compassion, and justice. Through subtle interventions, you shaped his character, molding him into a man worthy of the destiny laid before him.

As he grew, so did the challenges he faced. You were there in the thick of his battles, unseen but ever vigilant. During his early skirmishes, you would nudge his instincts, sharpening his reflexes and lending him the strength he needed to overcome his foes. When he faltered, you were the whisper of encouragement that steeled his resolve, the invisible hand that steadied his sword.

In the grand halls of strategy and politics, you guided his thoughts, helping him navigate the treacherous waters of Roman ambition. You planted seeds of wisdom in his mind, urging him to form alliances that would strengthen his position, to make decisions that would earn him the respect of his peers and the loyalty of his men. You were the unseen force that smoothed the path before him, ensuring that every step he took led him closer to his destiny.

When he was appointed as a general under Maximus Decimus Meridius, you knew that your efforts were bearing fruit. Acacius had become a formidable leader, his name spoken with reverence and fear across the empire. Yet, his journey was far from over. Under the rule of Emperor Geta and his co-Augusti, Caracalla, Acacius faced new trials. The invasion of Caledonia was a test of his mettle, a crucible that would forge his legacy.

As the Romans prepared for their campaign, you took on the guise of a tradesman’s daughter in Caledonia, positioning yourself to be near him, to watch over him more closely. The battles were fierce, and the land was unforgiving. You ensured that crucial information reached him at the right moments, that his strategies were sound and his decisions unerring. You softened the hearts of those who might have betrayed him, turned the tides of fortune in his favor.

Through the years, you have been his silent guardian, his invisible ally. You have seen him rise from a young warrior to a revered general, each victory a testament to the bond you honored. Even now, as you  stand among the captured townspeople, disguised and hidden, your purpose remains unchanged. You are here to protect him, to guide him, and to ensure that he fulfills the destiny that was promised.

In the moments when doubt clouded his heart, you were the light that pierced the darkness. When he faced insurmountable odds, you were the strength that carried him through. You have watched over him with a mixture of pride and affection, your heart swelling with each triumph and breaking with each loss. Acacius is more than just a mortal; he is a living embodiment of the divine promise you are bound to uphold.

Amidst the chaos of the Roman invasion of Caledonia, the air was thick with smoke and the cries of the conquered. The formidable General Acacius, now a seasoned leader under Emperor Geta and his co-Augusti, Caracalla, surveyed the battlefield with a steely gaze. His once youthful visage was now marked by the scars of countless battles, his presence commanding and unwavering.

In the midst of the turmoil, you risked disguising as a daughter of a tradesman, moved with quiet resolve. Clad in the coarse, earth-toned garb of a peasant, she blended seamlessly with the captured townspeople. Yet, even in your humble attire, your divine essence could not be wholly concealed. Your skin, a flawless alabaster, stood out against the grime and soot of the war-torn village. Your eyes, a striking shade of hazel, gleamed with an unearthly light, and your movements, though tempered to appear modest, held an innate grace that betrayed your true nature.

The Roman soldiers, drunk on victory, rounded up the women of Caledonia, separating them from their families with ruthless efficiency. Among the throng, the disguised goddess maintained a facade of fear and helplessness, your heart pounding as she witnessed the suffering of the innocent. The brutality of the soldiers, their coarse laughter, and lecherous gazes made you shudder inwardly, but you knew you must maintain your cover.

General Acacius, his mind burdened with the responsibilities of command, scanned the scene with a practiced eye. His soldiers were securing the captives, ensuring the spoils of war were collected. His gaze fell upon the group of captured women, and for a moment, he saw them as mere pawns in the grand scheme of conquest. But then, his eyes landed on you.

Despite your plain clothing, something about you stood out. Your skin, untouched by the harshness of the elements, was too smooth, too luminous for a common peasant. Your hair, though partially hidden beneath a simple headscarf, shone with a subtle, otherworldly luster. You moved with a quiet dignity, your posture erect even in the face of despair. Acacius's sharp eyes missed nothing, maybe a nobility pretending to be a peasant so they can escape from the invasion. He finds it as a clever tactic. 

As one of his soldiers, emboldened by the chaos, approached her with lecherous intent, Acacius felt a surge of anger. The soldier, a brutish figure, reached out to grasp your arm, his intentions clear. Before he could lay a hand on you, Acacius's voice rang out, authoritative and cold.

"Stand down," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. The soldier froze, his hand hovering in the air. "Do not touch her."

The soldier, taken aback, stammered a protest, "But, General, she's just a—"

"Bring her to me," Acacius cut him off, his gaze fixed on the disguised goddess. "Now."

The soldier, reluctant but obedient, withdrew his hand and roughly pushed you forward. You stumbled slightly but quickly regained your balance, your eyes meeting Acacius with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. As you were brought before him, he could see the subtle details that marked you as different: the refinement in your features, the intelligence in your eyes, the air of quiet strength exuded within you.

"Who are you?" Acacius asked, his voice softer but still commanding. "You do not belong here, do you?"

You hesitated, you mind racing to craft a plausible response. "I am the daughter of a tradesman," you said, your voice steady despite the fear you felt. "Captured like the others. Please, I mean no harm."

Acacius studied you for a long moment, his instincts telling him there was more to your story. "Take her to my tent," Acacius declared, his voice carrying an edge of finality. "She will be my personal cupbearer."

The soldiers, recognizing the unwavering tone of their general, nodded in agreement. They stepped back, leaving you untouched. Acacius's gaze softened slightly as he looked at you, a mixture of curiosity and protectiveness in his eyes.

"Find her something clean to wear," he instructed, his tone gentle yet firm.

Two soldiers led you through the encampment, their grip on your arms firm but not harsh. They guided you to the lavish tent of General Acacius, a striking contrast to the roughness of the battlefield outside. The tent was grand, its exterior adorned with rich fabrics and ornate decorations. Inside, it was a sanctuary of luxury and comfort amidst the chaos of war.

The interior of the tent was spacious, with plush carpets covering the ground and opulent cushions scattered around. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of Roman victories and mythological grandeur. A large, intricately carved wooden table stood at the center, laden with an array of sumptuous food and fine wine. The scent of incense filled the air, mingling with the aroma of roasted meats and freshly baked bread.

As you stood in the middle of the tent, feeling the weight of her disguise, General Acacius entered. His armor gleamed in the soft light of the tent, and his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. He moved with the confidence of a seasoned warrior, yet there was a gentleness in his approach.

"Sit with me," he said, gesturing to the cushions by the table.

You hesitated but complied, lowering yourself onto the soft cushions. Acacius sat across from you, his gaze never leaving yours like a lion observing his prey. He offered you a plate of food, the array of delicacies a testament to the wealth and power he commanded.

"Please, eat," he urged, but you shook your head, declining politely.

"I’m not hungry, my Lord," you explained, your voice steady.

Acacius leaned back, studying you intently. "What kind of business does your father have?"

You took a breath, weaving the story you had prepared. "My father is a tradesman, specializing in silk. We travel far and wide, even to the distant lands of China, to procure the finest silk. He sells it to the emperor and to those of noble birth."

Acacius nodded, intrigued. "A tradesman of silk, you say? But then, you do not seem like a mere peasant."

You lowered your eyes, the weight of your divine secret heavy upon you. "We have faced many hardships, but my father has always ensured that we present ourselves with dignity."

Acacius leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "Tell me," he said, his voice low and measured, "does your family live in Caledonia?"

Your heart is pounding. "Yes," you replied, your voice steady. "We come from an impoverished background. My father sought to make a better life for us through his trade."

Acacius studied you closely, his eyes dark and intense. As he reached for a cluster of grapes, he popped one into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. The act, so casual and yet so intimate, made your pulse quicken. His scrutiny was unrelenting, and you felt as though he could see through the layers of your disguise.

"You should know," he began, his tone carrying a note of warning, "that the nobility of Caledonia will be captured. There is no escape for them."

You remained silent, her expression carefully neutral. You knew he was testing you, probing for any signs of deceit. His words, though intended to intimidate, also carried a hint of concern.

"My soldiers are ruthless," he continued, his voice growing colder. "They would take advantage of you if given the chance."

You nodded silently, acknowledging the gravity of his warning. Your heart ached at the thought of the suffering around you, but you knew she had to maintain your composure.

As Acacius spoke, the flap of the tent was pushed aside, and a soldier entered, carrying a bundle of fresh clothes. They were simple but clean, likely taken from a Caledonian household. The soldier handed the bundle to Acacius, who thanked him with a curt nod.

"Here," Acacius said, extending the clothes to you. "Put these on."

You rose from your seat and took the bundle obediently, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment. The contact sent a shiver through you, a reminder of the thin line she walked between mortal and divinity. 

"You may change behind the screen," he said, gesturing to a beautifully carved wooden partition that provided a modicum of privacy within the tent.

You nodded and moved behind the screen, the fabric rustling softly as you slipped out of your peasant clothes. The new garments were a marked improvement, though still modest. As you dressed, you could feel Acacius's presence just beyond the screen, his protective aura enveloping you like a shield.

When you emerged, you found him watching you intently, his eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, something you could not quite name. The new clothes fit you well, accentuating your grace and poise even in their simplicity.

"Better," he murmured, his voice softening. "You look more like the person you claim to be."

You offered a faint smile, lowering her gaze. "Thank you."

Days passed, and you, now working as a cupbearer in General Acacius's camp, endeavored to maintain your humble facade. Despite your best efforts to appear as an ordinary servant, your innate grace and poise occasionally betrayed your true nature. Acacius, ever observant, began to notice the subtle refinement in your movements, the way you carried yourself with a dignity that spoke of nobility.

Your body language, though deliberately subdued, hinted at a life of privilege and education. You moved with an elegance that seemed out of place in the rough-and-tumble environment of a military camp. The way you poured water into cups, the delicate curve of your fingers as you handled the pitchers, all bespoke a background far removed from the impoverished tale you had spun.

One afternoon, a group of generals gathered in Acacius's lavish tent for a luncheon. As you silently poured water into their cups, you could feel the weight of their gazes upon you. The generals, their voices booming with laughter and boasts, paid little heed to the solemnity of their surroundings. One of them, a burly man with a coarse beard, eyed you with a lecherous grin.

"Acacius," he called out, his voice thick with drink, "is your cupbearer good in bed?"

The tent erupted in raucous laughter, the crude jest echoing off the walls. Acacius, seated at the head of the table, narrowed his eyes. His gaze hardened, and he fixed the offending general with a stern look.

"Such things are not to be discussed," he said, his tone carrying a quiet authority that silenced the laughter.

The general, still chuckling, raised his hands in mock surrender. "Ah, Acacius, always so reserved. You'd do well to indulge a bit more."

The disguised goddess watched the exchange with keen interest, your heart pounding. You knew Acacius's character well, having observed him for years. You despised these gatherings, these displays of vanity and ego. He found no pleasure in the idle boasts of his peers, preferring the company of his own thoughts and strategies.

As you continued your duties, pouring water and refilling cups, you could sense Acacius's discomfort. He was a man of action, a warrior with a clear sense of purpose. These luncheons, with their empty chatter and frivolous banter, were a stark contrast to the disciplined life he led. You admired his restraint, his ability to maintain his composure in the face of such provocation.

The generals continued their revelry, their conversations shifting from one boast to another. They spoke of past victories, of conquests and spoils, their voices a cacophony of pride and self-importance. Acacius, though present in body, seemed distant, his mind likely focused on the next battle, the next challenge.

As you moved around the table, you caught his eye for a brief moment. In that instant, you saw a flicker of something deeper, a connection that transcended. You knew that he valued substance over show, strategy over vanity. His reluctance to engage in their crude jests and hollow boasts only endeared him to you more.

The luncheon dragged on, the generals growing more boisterous with each passing moment. Acacius, ever the disciplined leader, maintained his stoic demeanor, responding to their jibes with measured patience. You could see the tension in his posture, the tightness in his jaw, and felt a pang of empathy.

As the daughter of Venus, you had always found mortal men to be easily swayed by vanity and ambition. They are like clay, molded by the hands of society and their peers, their true selves often buried beneath layers of ego and pride. But Acacius is different. Despite the pressures and temptations that come with his rank, he remains steadfast and true to his values. You're secretly proud of him, of the strength he shows in resisting the crudeness and arrogance that so often define his comrades.

That evening, after the generals had left and the camp had settled into a quiet lull, you found Acacius outside his tent, gazing up at the night sky. The stars twinkled above, their light casting a gentle glow on his strong, chiseled features. There was a tranquility in the air, a moment of peace amidst the chaos of war.

You approached him silently, your heart swelling with admiration for the man he had become. "Thank you for everything, My Lord," you said softly, breaking the silence.

He turned to look at you, his eyes reflecting the starlight. "You don’t need to thank me," he replied, his voice steady.

You nodded, understanding the brusqueness of his words. "Even so, I am forever grateful."

As you turned to return to the tent, you could feel his gaze lingering on you. There was a mystery in his eyes, a curiosity that you knew he could not easily dispel. You wondered what he saw when he looked at you—this woman who appeared from nowhere, cloaked in the guise of a humble servant yet betraying hints of refinement and grace.

CONTINUE READING: PART 2 | PART 3 ━━ AVAILABLE ON AO3

☆ MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION | SOCIALS | SIGN OFF BANNER MADE BY. @ALDERAANDORS ☆

[tylermileslockett]

Week 7: Teasers and Trivia Art Piece: A Brother Betrayed

Each week we offer surprising and lesser known trivia facts about the selected mythic tale. So here we go! 5 fascinating facts you may or may not know.

Here are 5 fascinating facts about the mythic tale.

Sibling Rivalry: The quest for the Golden Fleece is driven by betrayal and rivalry, as Jason's rightful claim to the throne is usurped by his uncle Pelias, forcing him into dangerous trials to reclaim his birthright.

The Price of Aid: Medea’s betrayal of her brother Apsyrtus to aid Jason is a rare example of kin-killing in Greek myth, reflecting the extreme costs of loyalty and the moral ambiguity surrounding Jason’s success.

Heroic Dependency: Jason, often depicted as a great hero, relies not on his strength alone but on Medea’s betrayal and magical abilities, challenging the notion of independent heroism in Greek mythology.

Divine Complicity: Hera and Athena’s involvement in Medea’s actions implies divine endorsement of betrayal, suggesting that the gods may prioritize their own agendas over human ethics.

A Fleeting Victory: Despite obtaining the Golden Fleece, Jason’s triumph is short-lived; his dependence on betrayal and divine intervention hints at the fleeting and morally fraught nature of heroism in Greek mythology.

[tyran-the-tyranical]

Raphael’s character and a lot of references to Ancient Greek mythology/history

Ok, so there’s some really obvious ones like, I think there’s some story in the game about a bard winning over a devil that he likes, which is a clear reference to Orpheus and Eurydice (also Raphael holds the power to free Orpheus in the game, like hades being able to free Eurydice) also hope being a parallel to Persephone 👁️👁️.

Besides the little things like that, I’ve noticed his character kinda resembles Alexander the Great, LEMME EXPLAIN FIRST

Raphael as we all know really wants the crown of Karsus, and knows alot abt the guy (he was even there when he failed, or when the city fell) , and maybe admires what he managed to accomplish to some extent and he kinda even models his house on his work, as they both float in the sky (also gonna make the obvious connections to Icarus here) and Raphael “believes” he should rule the hells and that he could end the blood war ect etc… and he’s so great, anyway.

Now Alexander was similar in that he too believed he should rule the world/Persia or Asia (debatable which) and he also admired someone with a great “folly” which was Achilles, whose weakness was yknow his Achilles, and Alexander basically modelled his life after this guy too, so he’s a bit more extreme than Raphael, like man carried the illiad wherever he went, but it shows he’s a fan of literature and epics, like Raphael.

Also, Alexander is supposedly of “half divinity” or whatever, he believed he was the son of Zeus or at least more than just a human, which Raphael is, but I suppose less Divine in his case.

Another thing is, Alexander also was kinda a dick, in that in his pursuit to conquer he also sieged the city of Thebes which was also a Greek city state, like he says he later regretted it but still. Also during his siege he did let some people live, like some ppl in a temple of Heracles (another idol of his) and a woman who attacked some soldiers after being assaulted and he was impressed by her or something. Ithaca wasn’t the only place he sieged, later in Babylon during a party some girl convinced him to siege a city and burn it, he did lol. Alexander wasn’t a great person, also a conqueror so there’s that.

Raphael, is obviously not a good person but it’s hard to say he isn’t somewhat likeable or has his moments, korilla even says so herself, that’s he a much kinder boss than she’s had before, especially for a devil. Though in the end, Raphael still wants to conquer, and not just the hells, he says that he’ll go further and conquer other “worlds”

(Also the attack on Thebes was one of Alexander’s first key victories, but it was on his own country, unlike everything that he attacks after, which yknow is like Raphael starting his attack in the hells then moving outward)

Also just gonna mention it here, but it’s been said loads, when Raphael dies, it’s a total reference to Kronos eating his children, as Raphael gets nommed on by his father.

There are totally more references and especially to other cultures, like his cat/mouse rhymes kinda remind me of Hickory Dickory Dock and his miss tuffet being miss miss muffet, but my guy is totally Italian/Greek? Coded, like it’s hard to believe otherwise.

Maybe the similarities to Alexander are a bit out there, a lot of “leaders” or “greats” were like that. Anyway, I’m probably missing more references but that’s all I couldn’t remember off the bat.

EDIT: To be fair though, maybe he’s more of a Julius Caesar, since Alexander was quite young when he died and Julius was said to have cried in front of a statue of Alexander since he accomplished so much more than him in his youth, since most of caesars big stuff was later in his life, but like I said you can find similarities with a bunch of other similar dictatory guys,

EDIT 2:

He is so Julius Caesar coded;

"All the Gauls did Caesar vanquish, Nicomedes vanquished him;

Lo! now Caesar rides in triumph, victor over all the Gauls,

Nicomedes does not triumph, who subdued the conqueror."

This is supposedly a song that Caesar's soldiers sang making fun of how he was a bottom, Caesar conquered Bithynia but Nicomedes conquered Caesar. LIKE, the parallels are there, friends.

[lilitunoirrr]

Copy and pasted from elsewhere:

NEVER SAW IT THIS WAY. VERY POWERFUL POINT OF VIEW.

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Medusa was a victim of sexual violence and the story you know turned her into a villain.

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Medusa is one of the easiest-to-recognise characters in Greek mythology. With its unmistakable snake hair and the power to turn whoever looks at it into stone, it is one of the most popular monsters in ancient stories.

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But there’s a part of their story that not everyone knows that will completely change your perspective.

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Snake lady didn't always have a creepy appearance. Medusa was one of the Three Gorgon Sisters (a kind of female monster). Unlike Esteno and Euriale, she was the only mortal in the family.

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Ovidio was a Roman poet considered to be one of the most important in Latin literature and was also one of the first to describe how the mythological being became a terrible creature.

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The Encyclopedia of Ancient History quotes Ovidio briefly, but impactful. Medusa was a beautiful young lady and Poseidon wished her for him. The god of the seas attacked and raped her inside a temple dedicated to Athena.

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The goddess took this attack as an offense and punished the woman by giving her snakes instead of hair and with the curse of turning anyone looking at into stone.

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After that chapter, comes the most popular: the one where Perseus kills the "terrible" Medusa. King Polydectes was in love with Danae, the mother of Perseus.

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His son did not approve of this relationship because he considered the sovereign lacked honor. To get rid of the son, Polydectes asked him to get the head of the gorgon.

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As the Metropolitan Museum of Art points out, the gods helped Perseus in his mission and gave him gifts to ensure his victory. A key piece in her triumph was the polished shield of Athena, which allowed her to approach Medusa and avoid her dangerous gaze.

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When Perseus beheaded her, from her neck sprouted the giant Crisaor and winged horse Pegasus. Both are considered to be Poseidon's children, which means they were the product of a rape and Medusa was pregnant when she was murdered.

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It's not unusual news that Greek mythology is plagued with accounts of abuse and violence, but it's interesting (and tragic) to find out that Medusa is still remembered as a monster when her only "crime" was being attractive.

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The victim was also the only one to receive punishment for Poseidon's acts. And even Athena created the flute to imitate Esteno and Euriale's lamentations after their sister's murder.

🙌🏽

[jojotier]

Of course what Leucippus does isn't as bad as what Apollo does, but it isn't leagues better or anything is what I meant to say. It just reminds me too much of Zeus-Callisto thing, sorry. It's plain clear that Leucippus had the goal of wooing and marrying her while she clearly wanted to have nothing to do with marriage and men. His plan is even called a trick. And given the lack of sorrow on Daphne's part and how she also joins the nymphs in killing him, just implies that she did not appreciate being deceived by him this way.

The fact that they (nymphs) hadn't seen his body could very well be because he hadn't spent much time with them. The text says he became close to Daphne "very soon." But regardless, he doesn't rape her or seem to show any intent for it. I'll give him that.

And just to clear it up, I was not at all making any comments about trans people. Simply for the fact that I just don't see any such elements in the tale. It's a tale about a man disguising himself to get close to a woman he loves and facing the consequences for that. Interpreting him as trans is certainly a unique take that I hadn't thought of before, though don't feel the text itself supports it much. But of course that's why modern retelling exists, and the beauty of the myths lie in the fact that they can have many interpretations (sorry if I sounded rude or confrontational)

You're fine! I kind of reckoned that you were going with the more straight forward reading rather than the Trans one, but I just wanted to cover all my bases there

You're definitely right that there isn't much textual support for it, and to clarify, I'm still pretty new to different versions of Greek mythology in and of itself- but I can still recognize a few of the tropes that seem to have carried on even beyond the Greek canon, like the trope of someone disguising their gender to get close with someone they love! I'm more familiar with Shakespeare and the early Jacobean period, but the trope shows up there as well, albeit in an inverted gender and with happy endings for the ladies who disguise themselves (As You Like It and Twelfth Night)

Considering that, it does make me wonder where the myth originated in the first place- like the metatextual context for it. A lot can be said about how Daphne should have been seen by her contemporaries, whether hers is a story about a woman punished for not submitting to the pressures of her time or whether she's meant to be a comfort for girls to know that they're not alone in feeling sorrowful of what they'll be forced to do, or even whether she's meant to be read as being in triumph, leaving Apollo with only some of her hair to claim as hollow victory; but with Leucippus, the reading changes too.

Because if Daphne is rightfully angry at the deception, how does that change her dynamic with Apollo? Does the story become about how women can't hide forever from the world of men? Is it about how the only way for a woman to escape to transform herself? And what does it mean when a disguise is the death of one, but the salvation of the other?

[classicalshorts]

DYEing for FISH!

As the clue in the title suggests, more colour words derived from Latin and Greek for you tonight. Welcome to Cool Colours IV.

Why the 'fish?', you ask. Well, tonight is purple's turn. This colour comes from the Latin purpureus, which is closely linked to the Greek πορφύρη (porphyre). The Greek colour word is the same as that word from the fish from which the colour was obtained. Some theories suggest it was more reddish than what we could now normally call 'purple'. But the cool fact still remains, our colour purple takes its name from a fish. It was hard to obtain and, therefore, expensive and it is not hard to see why purple came to be associated with kings, wealth, and power. Macedonians wore purple. The Etruscans kings were believed to, as did Roman emperors perhaps following Etruscan tradition. Before the emperors the colour was donned by the victorious general in his celebratory triumph procession, and ONLY for the procession, lest he form any ideas of grandeur.

How does this relate to the ghastly disease porphyria? You will undoubtedly have spotted the connection with the Greek word for the colour. The link is colour. This illness turns urine a reddish-purple.

On to more pleasant colour-related, linguistic connections. The sweet, light shade of purple known as violet also comes from Latin, named after the viola flower, from which the colour gets its name.

We follow with indigo, which literally means 'the Indian dye', coming via Latin from the ancient Greek ἰνδικόν, referring to a plan believed to come from India, which yielded a deep blue-purple dye.

Lastly, we come to the word iodine. Hang on, iodine's not purple you cry. Well, true it isn't, but the 'io' that begins the word comes from a Greek word for purple. ἴον was in fact the Greek word for 'violet'. Iodine was originally the Greek ἰοειδές (ioeides) meaning 'violet in appearance'. The name 'iodine' for the element was coined by French chemist Joseph Louis Gay-Lussac in the 19th century. The violet plant in Greek mythology was a symbol of modesty and chastity, after Artemis, sworn maiden goddess of hunting, changed one of her nymphs, pursued by her lustful brother Apollo, into a violet to protect her.

So, lots of words for a colour that in its variants is both the colour of kings and modesty. This article is, therefore, something of a PURPLE patch...Okay, gets coat, checking out, see you all for more Cool Colours soon.

[thebookofnehemiah]

"The Dynasty." From the Book of Nehemiah, "the Exploration of the Mysteries of the Lions that Lay," 3: 18.

We continue to discuss the rebuilding of Jerusalem incrementally in districts and half districts.

Districts are 485, דחה, dha, "rejected" because it is too formal.

Half Districts are 520, הך , hach, "you, hurray!"

Herein lies the challenge with the creation of the Nsh. He must be more formal and also less than other human beings and still pull it off. We've explained how this is done, he must be artful in the making of his mistakes. For this he and we need what are called Levites, "free thinking people to whom we are joined."

For Districting to work we must have Levites. And guess what, we don't have any...so now we must discuss the role of the Nsh in their gathering as we cannot make repairs to our present conditions without them. This is called "Binnui" or "the building of the dynasty":

18 Next to him, the repairs were made by their fellow Levites under Binnui[f] son of Henadad, ruler of the other half-district of Keilah. 

Binnui son of Henadad means "to build with grace."

"The verb בנה (bana) means to build, mostly of stone buildings and thus of houses and thus of families and dynasties: hence the association between this verb and the nouns אבן ('eben), stone, and בן (ben), son.

Noun בניה (binya) means a building in the sense of a structure. Noun מבנה (mibneh) means building in the sense of place of building. Noun תבנית (tabnit) means building in the sense of the act of building: a construction, pattern or image.

Noun תבן (teben) means straw (the stems of grains), which was inserted into clay to enhance the structural integrity of the building. We do the same today with carbon fibers.

The verb חנן (hanan) means to be gracious or to favor. Nouns חן (hen), חנינה (hanina), תחנה (tehinna) and תחנון (tahanun) mean favor or grace. Adverb חנם (hinnam) means freely or gratis, and adjective חנון (hannun) means gracious.

The unused verb הדד (hadad) probably meant to thunder or make a loud noise (it does so in cognate languages). Nouns הידד (hedad) and הד (hed) describe a shout or shouted cheer."

The verse further says "half in Keilah" or "through eating" and "a crown of laurel."

In ancient times, very few young men got to wear a crown of laurel.

"The laurel wreath is used as a symbol of the master's degree. The wreath is given to young masters at the university graduation ceremony. The word "laureate" in 'poet laureate' refers to the laurel wreath.

In Ancient Rome, it was worn on the head as a symbol of triumph. The symbol of the laurel wreath is from Greek mythology. The Romans adopted the symbol because they admired Greek culture. In Rome, they were symbols of military victory. Laurel also represented a "natural antipathy for anything of a fiery nature."

The conquering hero in the Book of Revelation also wore a laurel crown, a warning all moral victories are temporary:

6:2 And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.

The message here is our Nsh might be young and cute and interesting to us now and the world will kneel at his feet but we need more than one Nsh and one moral victory over the forces of darkness and much more than our traditions which have lasted, we need a dynasty, as the text idicates; a cherished and proper way of life that is transmitted from father to son peer to peer, academy to student until God draws the curtain of time closed.

But first...the Nsh.

The Number is 6914, ו‎טיד‎, "and TID." "a weed."

One weed can spoil the whole field:

"The weed of choice would have been darnel, which looks a lot like wheat but when consumed causes a potentially fatal nausea. The Latin name of this plant is lolium temulentum, with lolium relating to the word latrine and temulentum meaning drunken.

Besides bankrupting the owner of the contaminated lot, this crime could also result in the death of innocent consumers, or even incapacitate an entire local population. This means that it could be used as an act of war, or a first assault of an ensuing battle. The act of sowing tares in someone else's field reminds of salting the battlefield, which is what Abimelech did to the town of Shechem (Judges 9:45). This in turn reminds the much earlier circumcision of the men of Shechem, which Levi and Simeon insisted on so that they could kill them all, while they were inconvenienced (Genesis 34:24-25)."

To repair the District of Jerusalem, the place and also the spirit of the people, we need to clear the field of weeds and sow the Nsh, the one upon whose head belongs the laurel who will seed the rest.

This crappy shit that is being caused by democracies has to be stopped. They are planting poisonous weeds all over the planet, pretending to act in the defense of man when they are verily only planning to be its enemies. America is a good example of this. We will continue to explore remedies to this as the repairs continue.

[yhwhrulz]

Worthy Brief - July 18, 2024

Fight to win!

1 Cor 9:24-27 Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may obtain it. And everyone who competes for the prize is temperate in all things. Now they do it to obtain a perishable crown, but we for an imperishable crown. Therefore I run thus: not with uncertainty. Thus I fight: not as one who beats the air. But I discipline my body and bring it into subjection, lest, when I have preached to others, I myself should become disqualified.

Writing to the Corinthian Church, Paul illustrates his exhortation using the metaphors of running a race and fighting a boxing match. Victory is achieved by bringing your body into submission to the will of God.

Their idolatrous culture promoted in the Corinthians an intense passion to win. In Greek mythology, Nike was the goddess of victory. She fought on the side of the Olympian gods, triumphing over the mighty Titans and thus became a powerful symbol of victory.

Her divine her powers were not limited to warfare. She was also solicited by Greek athletes who sought victory in competitive sports. A major manufacturer of athletic shoes took note of this and named their company after the goddess. The Romans gave Nike the Latin name "Victoria" from which we get our English word - "victory".

The apostle Paul, with characteristic cultural awareness, addresses the Corinthians in a language they well understand. He is seeking to harness their passion for victory and transform it for spiritual purposes seeking to motivate them with eternal rewards which the Lord has promised to those who serve Him well.

In Yeshua (Jesus) we have real Divine power which the ancient pagans could not have dreamed of. It is a power to win where it really counts…with and for our wonderful Lord! We too, need to discipline our bodies, bringing them under submission, and run the race of faith without looking back - we can be victorious. We will obtain an eternal crown, which will never fade!

Your family in the Lord with much agape love,

George, Baht Rivka, Obadiah and Elianna (Missouri) (Orlando, FL)

Editor's Note: During this war, we have been live blogging throughout the day -- sometimes minute by minute on our Telegram channel. - https://t.me/worthywatch/ Be sure to check it out!

Editor's Note: We are planning our summer Tour so if you would like us to minister at your congregation, home fellowship, or Israel focused event, be sure to let us know ASAP. You can send an email to george [ @ ] worthyministries.com for more information.

[atrumvox]

The Nemean Lion: An Icon of Greek Mythology

Greek mythology is rich with extraordinary tales, populated by mythical creatures and heroic feats. One of the most fascinating of these stories is that of the Nemean Lion, a legendary beast that represented one of the twelve labors of Heracles (Hercules in Roman mythology).

Origins and Characteristics of the Nemean Lion

The Nemean Lion was a fearsome and invincible creature, according to some sources, the offspring of the monsters Echidna and Typhon. Other versions of the myth suggest that it was born from the moon, sent by Hera to test Heracles. It lived in the region of Nemea, terrorizing the local inhabitants with its ferocity. The lion's most distinctive feature was its impenetrable skin, which made it immune to any known weapon. This invulnerability added an extra layer of difficulty for anyone attempting to confront it.

The First Labor of Heracles

Heracles, son of Zeus and Alcmene, was known for his extraordinary strength and courage. As punishment for killing his family in a fit of madness induced by Hera, Heracles had to undertake twelve labors commissioned by King Eurystheus, and the first of these was to kill the Nemean Lion.

Heracles set out for Nemea and, upon reaching the city of Cleonae, was welcomed into the home of Molorchus. After various failed attempts with bow and arrows, he realized that his weapons were useless against the lion's impenetrable skin. He then decided to confront the creature bare-handed. Trapping the lion in a cave with two exits, he blocked one and faced the lion at the other. With his superhuman strength, he managed to strangle the lion, ending its reign of terror.

Symbolism and Cultural Impact

The Nemean Lion symbolizes several recurring themes in Greek mythology. Its impenetrable skin represents the insurmountable challenges that heroes must face and overcome. Heracles' victory demonstrates the superiority of the hero's mind and strength over mere brute force. After killing the lion, Heracles used its skin as a sort of armor, wearing it as a cloak to protect himself in future adventures. This act represents not only triumph over the adversary but also the assimilation of its qualities, making Heracles even more invincible.

The myth of the Nemean Lion has had a lasting impact on Greek culture and beyond. In visual arts, the lion is often depicted alongside Heracles, with the lion's cloak becoming one of the hero's distinctive symbols. Representations of this feat can be found in numerous paintings, sculptures, and mosaics, demonstrating the importance of the myth in ancient culture. In literature, the myth has been told and reinterpreted in various works, highlighting themes of strength, courage, and ingenuity. Even in the modern world, the Nemean Lion continues to inspire stories and works of art, keeping the Greek mythological tradition alive.

Conclusion

The Nemean Lion is one of the most iconic figures in Greek mythology, representing a formidable challenge and a symbol of invincibility. Its defeat at the hands of Heracles is not only a tale of strength and courage but also an example of how intelligence and determination can overcome the most difficult adversities. This myth has left an indelible mark on culture and continues to be a source of inspiration and admiration.

[impeccablenest68]

30+ Names That Mean Chosen One: Exciting and Meaningful – Impeccable Nest

Names associated with destiny and fate have been popular for centuries. Many parents choose a name for their child in the hopes it will shape who they become. Here are some options to consider if you want a name meaning "chosen one":

Elijah means "Yahweh is God" in Hebrew. In Judaism and Christianity, Elijah was a prophet who was chosen by God to play a pivotal role. Ezra means "help" or "helper" in Hebrew. According to Jewish tradition, Ezra helped restore and reconstruct Jewish spiritual and religious life in Judea after the return from Babylon exile.

Neo is a Greek name meaning "new," as in someone new or unique who could bring change. It's probably most famous as the name of "The One" character in the Matrix films who was prophesied to save humanity. 😉 In Greek mythology, Nike was the goddess and personification of victory. She represented the triumph of heroic achievements and was often depicted as winged.

[vinceviralfreak]

Title: The Divine Chronicles: A Clash of Gods

Chapter 1: The Awakening

In the realm of Mount Olympus, the gods and goddesses of ancient Greece lived in eternal splendor. Zeus, the mighty king of the gods, ruled over this divine domain with his wife, Hera, by his side. Their power was unmatched, and their influence extended far beyond the mortal realm.

However, a dark force was stirring in the depths of Tartarus, the underworld. Hades, the god of the dead, had grown tired of his eternal confinement and sought to overthrow Zeus and claim Olympus for himself. With the help of his loyal allies, Hades devised a plan to unleash chaos upon the gods and goddesses.

Chapter 2: The Gathering Storm

Word of Hades' treachery reached the ears of Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war. She knew that if Hades succeeded, the balance between the gods and mortals would be shattered, plunging the world into darkness. Determined to prevent this catastrophe, Athena set out to assemble a team of powerful gods and goddesses to stand against Hades.

First, she sought the aid of Ares, the god of war. Though known for his reckless nature, Ares possessed unmatched strength and combat skills. Next, Athena approached Apollo, the god of light and music, whose divine archery skills would prove invaluable in the battles to come.

Chapter 3: The Trials of Olympus

As Athena continued her quest, she encountered Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, and Hermes, the messenger of the gods. Both agreed to join the cause, bringing their unique abilities to the fight against Hades. Together, they formed an unlikely alliance, bound by their shared desire to protect Olympus and the mortal world.

Chapter 4: The Battle Begins

With their team assembled, Athena and her allies prepared for the ultimate showdown with Hades. They knew that defeating the god of the dead would not be an easy task, but they were determined to restore peace and order to the divine realm.

The battle raged on, with gods and goddesses clashing in a spectacle of power and fury. Lightning bolts hurled through the sky, arrows flew true, and swords clashed in a symphony of divine might. The fate of Olympus hung in the balance as the gods fought for their very existence.

Chapter 5: The Triumph of Olympus

In the midst of the chaos, Athena and her allies managed to outwit Hades and his minions. Through their combined strength and cunning, they were able to defeat the god of the dead and restore order to Olympus. The gods and goddesses rejoiced, grateful for the bravery and determination of their champions.

With Hades defeated, peace was once again restored to the divine realm. The gods and goddesses resumed their roles as protectors of the mortal world, ensuring that the balance between gods and mortals remained intact.

Epilogue: A New Era

The victory over Hades marked a turning point for the gods and goddesses of Olympus. They realized the importance of unity and cooperation, understanding that their individual strengths were amplified when combined. From that day forward, they vowed to work together to face any future threats that may arise.

And so, the divine chronicles continued, with the gods and goddesses of ancient Greece standing as beacons of hope and guardians of the mortal realm. Their actions would forever be remembered, their stories passed down through the ages, reminding humanity of the power and resilience of the gods.

Note: The novel "The Divine Chronicles: A Clash of Gods" is an action-packed adventure that explores the world of Greek mythology. The writing style intentionally avoids a specific style, allowing the story to flow naturally while maintaining a focus on action and excitement. The language used throughout the novel is English, ensuring accessibility to a wide range of readers.

[woodboogie]

This statue is one of the six monumental marble figure groups depicting The Labours of Hercules. These statues were commissioned from Vincenzo de' Rossi for the Salone dei Cinquecento of the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence.

In Greek mythology, Hercules (Greek Heracles) was a hero and the personification of physical strength and courage.

He is one of the most popular figures in classical and later art.

Hercules's twelve labours were undertaken as a penance for slaying his old children in a fit of madness. He was ordered by the Delphic oracle to serve Eurystheus, king of Tiryns, for twelve years and to undertake any task he might require.

Serving a mortal in a menial role was the punishment for a god who offended the Olympians. Originally simple tales of the victory of the strong, they acquired in time a moral symbolism, the triumph of right over wrong.

The eighth labour of the twelve, represented by this group of Rossi, is "The mares of Diomedes". These wild animals lived on human flesh. Hercules, with a brand of friends, seized them, and in the ensuing battle with their owner, King Diomedes, and his men, the king was slain.

Source: Web gallery and art

[atamascolily]

#me trying to identifying shit when i am not at all a mythology nerd lol#like that gold and green shield looking thing on the far wall behind grace what is that -@mehoymalloy

Okay, so from top to bottom:

-The sculpture on the left is Perseus holding the head of Medusa. This was a popular mythological theme, and the most famous sculpture is one by Benvenuto Cellini. Renaissance depictions usually had Perseus naked, but this sculpture has him fully clothed in the Greek style and in marble not bronze. The subject matter is especially ironic given that Medusa is actually still alive in this game, but it foreshadows her relationship with Athena.

-The sculpture on the right is Athena, who was Perseus's patron deity who aided his fight against Medusa in Greek Mythology.

-The head sculpture in the corner on the table is probably also meant to be Athena as well.

-Bubo is an owl (probably meant to be Bubo bubo, the Eurasian eagle owl, although both his stylized nature and his helmet make it hard to match him to existing species). Athena's epithet in Greek mythology is Glaukopis (γλαυκῶπις), translated as "bright-eyed" or "owl-eyed" or "gleaming" as Bubo's eyes do in his close-ups, and the owl was her symbol/messenger.

-Bubo's helmet is a mirror of Athena's own helm on the opposite side of the desk--one of her symbols, along with the shield and the spear (behind her desk leaning against the pillar).

-The painting on the wall is Herbert Draper's Lament for Icarus, which I think says a lot about Athena's worldview in this game. She is naturally risk-averse, and believes only tragedy can come from pushing boundaries or trying new things. Also, she has a lot of emotions and regrets over the loss of so many loved ones, like all of the Idols.

-The big shield has Medusa's head on it, another symbol of Perseus and therefore Athena. More foreshadowing.

-the green and gold leaves on the pillow are a wreath of laurel leaves (Laurus nobilis) - a symbol of triumph and victory given to winners of the Olympic games. Usually associated with Apollo, but makes sense for Athena to have in this context as she is "resting on her laurels" here. Would not surprise me if the two potted trees are also laurels, although they are so stylized, it's difficult to tell. The front of her desk also includes a drawing of a laurel wreath--compare to the Resolute desk in the Oval Office in the White House where the president sits.

-I think the thing on the wall is another shield, again representing Athena's desire to protect the Idols. The fact that it has the same greenish-gleam as Athena's helm may be the light or it may indicate it's her own personal shield. Could also be a mirror--difficult to say since I can't get a good look at it--which would make sense given what else we see mirrors do in this game and all the associated symbolism.

-Oh, and the Greek marble columns lining the windows are in the Ionic style with volutes (scroll-like ornamentation) like the Erechtheion, the temple to Athena in the Acropolis in Athens (a city named after its patron deity Athena).

I really love Athena's office because you get such an excellent view of who she is as a character and what she values long before you ever actually see her. Her office is elegant, tasteful, and a museum of the past, reminiscent of presidents and college professors and thus establishes her as someone powerful, in command, and intensely focused on order and rules (fitting, as she's the one who introduced a jury system at the end of the Oresteia, thus bringing the Furies in line). And the fact that she still keeps her armor and weapons here--not quite art pieces as they are ready to be picked up and used at any moment--says she is a warrior and a force to be reckoned with, although she prefers to use reason and words over force if possible. It's a masterful piece of design work.

Athena's Office

[ladyinpoetry]

Poem of the day #99

[sunflowersandscreams]

i know mitski was talking about laurel thickets that grow in south appalachians in her album title, but here’s another theory:

in ancient greece, laurels were a sign of victory or triumph, and a person would wear a pair of ‘laurels’ on their head or around their neck if they had achieved or won something. so when mitski named her album ‘laurel hell’, she was talking about the hellish nature of her supposed victory. mitski has achieved wide fame and acclaim, something that many musical artists work towards. mitski has triumphed. but the fame also comes with extreme pressure and other downsides, which is the ‘hell’ mitski is referencing in the title.

also, if we’re still talking about ancient greece, in greek mythology there’s the fields of eternal punishment in the underworld. the ‘hell’ in the album title could be referencing this, how mitski feels like she is now forever trapped in making things and performing for the public

(this is also referenced in ‘working for the knife’, where mitski sings about the pressure of creating and making things.)