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Chapter Text

History is a funny thing. The further back you go, the harder it becomes to verify times, to verify details. Once you go back far enough the only history we know is that which is told through translated tales and forgotten artefacts. Historians have read tales of gods who terrify mortals so they dare not even speak the gods’ names. Have researched stories of heroes with great strength, fighting one-eyed giants, multi-headed beasts, snake women, and so much more. They have read these tales and called them “myth”, “legend”. Claim they are just stories, false representations of the beliefs and fears of the people. Historians insist that gods never walked the earth. Herakles never completed his 12 labours. Odysseus never fought the cyclops. No Goddess of Love kidnapped Helen. No vengeful Wisdom Goddess cursed the poor Medusa. No God of War was struck by Diomedes during the Trojan War.

Historians are… half-right. It is true that no gods ever walked the earth. But Aphrodite did kidnap Helen as a gift to Hektor of Troy. Ares was harmed by Diomedes. Thanatos did visit those who were to die. Charon did sail the styx to Hades’ palace in the underworld.

I am here to tell you the true stories of the past, both myth and history, beginning with the truth behind one of the most well-known mythos today. This tale is not one of glory. It is not one of triumph and righteousness. This is the story of mortals who, just like Icarus, flew too close to the proverbial sun, and fell just as far.

Our tale begins with one man, so long ago we do not know what the people called themselves. But, one thing is without a doubt; this man was the beginning of one of the greatest stories of all time.

This man’s name was Khaos. The stories would have you believe he simply came to be. To quote Hesoid’s Theogony, “at first Chaos came to be”. This was not true. Khaos had a mother and a father, just as you and I. The tales would then have you believe that next came Gaia, Tartarus, Erebus, Nyx, and in some interpretations Eros. These tales are also false, to a certain degree.

You see, when Khaos was but a small child, he fell in love with the expanse of the night sky. Not with the darkness, or the night itself, and certainly not with the sky he would insist. But with that which lies beyond. The twinkling lights that seem so very far away. He tried to see, to know how far away they were. He needed to know.

And then he did.

All at once, he knew. He knew how far the stars were. How truly vast the world was. He knew everything, and in that infinite knowledge he knew nothing. This knowledge was ripped away from him as quickly as it had been given, but he clung to the knowledge of the endlessness of it all. He fell deeper into the grasp of what we now would call The Beholding and The Vast, but Khaos simply called it The Truth.

One day, Khaos’ mother disappeared, and in her place a woman that was not her. But everyone said it was her. Khaos knew better. She did not look at him with the same disdain as she had before when he would speak of the endlessness of the universe. When he would speak of how small they all were. She instead looked at him with a curiosity that scared him. Terrified him. So, he decided to indulge her curiosity. To show her just how endless the night sky was.

He never saw his not mother again. She would still be falling through that vast emptiness if the fear had not destroyed her, or she had not starved from not having fear to feed from. Of course, another like her would come to be, but she would not return.

Khaos became revered as a being of immense power, what we would call a god today. His name became synonymous with vastness, emptiness, chasms, and abyss. He lived as an immortal king for a very long time, so long that there were no longer people who had lived when he had, the powers from The Truth granting him a vast lifespan. It was then that Erebus and Nyx entered his life. A kind pair of people who sought the same reverence that Khaos had. When they came, their arrival was heralded by a week-long night. Powers given to them by The Truth, Khaos guessed. But they claimed otherwise, they claimed the powers they were given were given by The Night, what we now would call The Dark.

Next came Gaia and Uranus. Gaia, with the powers to trap people below the earth, to bury them alive, and Uranus, with the powers to travel through the skies and to drop people endlessly, very similarly to Khaos. Powers from The Truth, Khaos guessed. But they claimed otherwise. Gaia claimed hers were from The Earth, and Uranus claimed his from The Sky. What we would now call The Buried and The Vast.

The stories would have you believe that Gaia birthed all the titans, but this is not true. Born to Gaia and Uranus were Rhea, Oceanus, Kronos, and Phoebe, the others came from elsewhere. As they grew older, the children of Gaia and Uranus too found themself developing affiliations with the powers beyond. Rhea only with the vastness of infinity, an immortal lifespan. Phoebe with Khaos’ Truth, vastness of infinity and knowledge beyond what any could comprehend. Oceanus with what he called The Waves, a mix of what we would now call The Buried and The Vast. And Kronos fell deep into Khaos’ Truth, deeper than most others, possibly even deeper than Khaos himself. But he also became attuned with another kind of infinity. The endlessness of time, and the incomprehensible expanse of it all.

The tales will tell you that Kronos and his siblings castrated their father and overthrew him. That their father was the one to warn Kronos that his children would overthrow him in turn. These tales are half-right. Kronos did castrate his father. But his father did not survive the process. Uranus did not warn Kronos he would be overthrown by his children, but the last words of Kronos’ father were “Your rule will not last forever, the young and golden-eyed children of the next generation or the next will overthrow you, claim this land for their own.” It is true that Kronos interpreted this to mean his own children would overthrow him. The tales claim that next, Kronos would swallow each of his own children until his wife Rhea would feed him a rock, secretly hiding away their youngest son Zeus and raising him to overthrow her husband. It is true that Kronos consumed his own children to prevent them from overthrowing him, but history will never know what those children would have been named. The Kingdom of Othrys atop Mount Othrys, ruled over by Kronos, would never know an heir.

Now, with all the context to the true history, our tale begins atop a mountain, where a city rests. The city of Olympus. A young boy, 12 years old, coincidentally born to a mother also named Rhea, is the focus of our story. He does not know yet that he will come to have 5 friends whom he calls his siblings. Nor does he know that he is destined to be king. All he knows is that his name… is Zeus.

Chapter Text

Deep in a cave beneath the Kingdom of Olympus, a temple rested. Within the temple sat the subject of its worship. And kneeling before the revered woman, a mortal mother sobbed and begged. The “goddess” listened to the visitor’s crying, studying her as she spoke.
“Great Delphi, hear my plea! My son, my baby boy, he cannot be condemned to be raised by his father! Where must I run? Where must I hide? Does my boy have a future? Or is he doomed to his father’s hands?”
Delphi studied the mother before her. Already she saw the beginnings of a great tapestry woven so tightly around her, with her son at the centre. Delphi already knew the fate that awaits this child should she not answer the mother’s prayers, and such a waste that fate would be. As Delphi studied the woman, she turned her mind to the greater tapestry of life, searching for where this woman may flee to. Where she may be accepted. She followed the threads of fate beyond their mountain kingdom, across the waves, and to an island which had no name. The boy doesn’t need to spend forever on the island, just long enough for The Storm to take hold. Delphi opened her eyes and looked down at the woman, reading her. Understanding her. Taking in the knowledge that she holds. Delphi had never met the boy, but now she knew his name, his face, and his peculiar eyes. She smiled to herself, then spoke to the woman below.

“The child, golden-eyed;

Raised beyond waves for a decade hence;

Returns to the home he’d been denied;

And with his father he shall dispense.

Allow lightning to be your guide;

As you take him where the storm resides;

By the island of the silver tide;

The shining sun you are denied.”

The mother, Rhea, her name was, exhaled in relief and joy, but the tears did not stop falling as she spoke. “Oh thank you Delphi! Thank you great seer! I could never repay you!”
Delphi smiled. “Heed my words and you shall be paying far more than you think. Take your young Zeus from this place.”
Rhea’s eyes widened as Delphi spoke the name of her son, and nodded. She fled the Temple of Delphi, and away from Olympus on a boat.

As the woman left, Delphi rose from where she rested, and moved towards the back of the temple, through a hidden passageway where her masters hid. She bowed before the sisters spinning their tapestry. “I believe I have set into motion a thread which will undo that which Truth has done.”
The first of the sisters, spinning the thread, smiled. “Well done young Delphi.”
The second of the sisters, measuring the thread, continued. “The golden-eyed child will be vital to destroying The Kingdom of Othrys.”
The third of the sisters simply looked at Delphi, as she took a thread of the tapestry in her hand. “Or he will not, and you have wasted our efforts.” She severed the string in her hand, staring at Delphi.
Then, all three sisters spoke in unison. “Only time will reveal the tapestry’s completion.”
The first sister, Clotho, gave a gentle smile to Delphi, as she held up the new working. “What do you think so far?”
The tapestry was small right now, very few details thus far, but the golden eyes of a young man were clearly visible. Delphi studied the tapestry for a long time before she nodded. “It is as you said, only time will complete the tapestry.”
“You are beginning to learn.” The second sister, Lachesis, smiled, hers less welcoming yet not cruel . “Do you truly believe the boy will destroy Truth?”
Delphi shook her head. “No. Destroying Truth is not our goal, either.”
The third sister, Atropos, smiled a cruel smile. “Correct. We will make a weaver of you yet, girl.”
And the three sisters spoke in unison. “Leave us, we must weave.”

Of course, myth would tell you that the Oracle of Delphi first belonged to Gaia, guarded by the serpentine monster known as Python, until it was stolen by Apollo, the god of prophecy. And as with many things, these myths are half-true. Gaia never even knew the Oracle Delphi. But, Delphi and her masters had an agreement with a man of earth and fangs named Python. Python would guard the cave from would-be intruders, and in turn would be free from the weavings of Delphi’s masters.
In addition, the Oracle Delphi did not originally reside in the place later known as Delphi, which was instead named for the oracle who would move there. And instead, Delphi resided beneath the Kingdom of Olympus, towards the peak of the mountain in a cave under the city of Olympus where she would be consulted by king and commoner alike who sought to know their fortune.

One such commoner would enter the Cave of Delphi as a grieving mother, and leave with a plan to save her son from his own father. That night, she would silently pack together all the things she could. Everything she could need to raise her son. She would steal what coin she could from her husband, the king, and she would give it all to a sailor, more coin than he would otherwise have seen in his whole lifetime. She repeated the Oracle’s words to the man, and away they would sail.

The morning thereafter, the King of Olympus, King Parinmon would come storming into the Cave of Delphi. Flanked by four soldiers, with spears brandished. The King pointed his spear at the Oracle as he spoke. “Where is my wife?”
The Oracle did not have to look to know that Python was watching, just out of sight, waiting for the signal to attack. To feed. Delphi did, however, hesitate to give that command. She instead turned her attention to the King before her. “Are you making an accusation? Or asking for a prophecy?”
King Parinmon took a step closer, keeping his spear levelled at the Oracle. “My wife came here yesterday, and now she’s gone! Where did you send her?!”
The Oracle closed her eyes, as she studied the man’s thoughts. He would not be useful to the tapestry, and already played his part when he inseminated his wife. But, perhaps The Oracle could feed from him. She smiled, and spoke.

“The young man of lightning-eyes;

Raised of thunder by the wives of Crete.

In a tomb his father lies;

Until fate’s tapestry is complete.”

King Parinmon’s fear was not as potent as Delphi had hoped, as he growled at the Oracle. “That was not an answer! I’ll have your head!”
The Oracle sighed, and implanted into the mind of Python a vision of a feast. From the shadows behind the man came a beast. He was nearly human, in shape alone. His skin was covered in sporadic serpentine scales. Two fangs protruded from his mouth. And the scent of earth clung to him, disguised by the cave. Python attacked King Parinmon and his men, relishing in the wounds they’d managed to impart to him. Though he did not kill them, when he had maimed them beyond repair, he called for the earth to swallow them whole and alive where they would be buried beneath the Cave of Delphi. And though the beast was bleeding, he was alive and so very sated.

The storm sought to sink the boat that Rhea fled upon. The waves wildly rocked the vessel as the two of them desperately sought the “silver tide”. But, through it all, baby Zeus never cried. He was drawn to the storm, reaching for the lightning in the sky. But the bolts did not strike a path, thunder echoed from all around the boat. They could not allow it to guide them for it served as no guide. When all seemed lost, Zeus reached his hands to the sky and a bolt of lightning struck the child and his mother. When the lightning struck, it destroyed the boat, sending mother and child into the sea. 

Both Zeus and Rhea survived, but their skin was scarred in what we would now call a lichtenberg figure, the branching paths of lightning spread through the child and his mother. And when Rhea awoke she found she was not alone. A young woman completely bare of any cloth stood over her, checking her for wounds, as another tended to her child. The only garments they wore, which did not serve as any true covering, were jewels of silver along their legs and arms, shaped like the waves of a tide. Rhea’s eyes widened as she looked upon the women, and the first words she spoke to them were not hers. “The island of silver tide…”

The women introduced themselves as the Nymphos, and claimed they were the wives of the great Crete, and daughters of the dancer Melisseus. Their names were Ida and Adrasteia, and just as the stories tell, they helped Rhea to raise Zeus on the island that would eventually be named for the king who resided upon it. The island of Crete.

The young boy of dark hair and golden eyes, only 11 years old, stood at the water’s edge, tracing the scar lines on his skin as he looked up to the stormy sky that he’s known his whole life. The storm that never faded once in the decade they have lived on this island. The storm that his mother told him had struck him as a child, and guided them to this land. The rain soaked his skin as he listened to the thunder rumble. He would stare out at the sea for hours, dreaming of the marble streets and sunny skies his mother would tell him tales of. The patterns on his skin entranced the boy, until a voice cut through the distraction.
“ZEUS! COME BACK INSIDE!”
He snapped back to reality and called back. “COMING MOTHER!” He took one last longing look to the storm, then hurried back to his mother.
“Great Delphi, I’ve been calling you for 10 minutes!” His mother would scold him. “I swear, if it weren’t for the Nymphos I would have lost my mind five years ago. Come, it’s time to eat.”

It was no royal feast, but it was a meal fit for a growing boy, with plenty of meat and plenty of vegetables. As all his meals were. And of course, he still ate respectfully, and thanked his mother and the Nymphos when he’d finished eating. Every day he spent like this. He would stare at the storm for hours, then he would eat, then sleep. His infatuation with the storm began to worry his mother. She became worried he would walk into the sea and never return. She didn’t understand his love was never for the ocean, just for the storm above. But, nonetheless, her worry became paranoia. She began to watch her child from the cave’s mouth. Always to ensure he never left her. The son she’d worked so hard for. But, her paranoia got the better of her, and one day when he was 11 years old, she took her son and bound him in ropes beneath the cave.

There, struggling against the ropes deep beneath the earth, Zeus felt far more afraid than he ever had in his entire life. 
“Why are you doing this, mother?!” He would ask.
“To keep you safe.” She would respond as she fed him his next meal.
Zeus spent days in that cave, crying and begging to be let free, but his mother wouldn’t dare allow him to leave her. She wouldn’t lose him to the storm.
“You cannot see the storm anymore.” She would tell him.
“Please mother! I must!” He would beg.
On the 7th night, however, something changed. Rhea made her way deep into the cave to see her son again, and could smell ozone. Of course, she didn’t know the name “ozone”, but she knew the smell. The very same smell as when she and her son had been struck. That smell that haunted her nightmares. The smell she thought would have been the last smell she ever smelled on that dreadful night. She panicked, and ran down to the lowest chambers of the cave only to find the most horrifying sight.

Lightning crackled along the arms of her son, as burned ropes lay at his feet. Zeus turned to his mother, his voice echoing like the thunder overhead as he spoke. “You cannot contain the child of the endless storm, mother.”
“Zeus?” Rhea’s voice trembled with fear as she looked upon her child, his scars glowing white and his eyes crackling with energy.
“I understand now, mother.” It was quickly becoming clear to Rhea that this was not her son’s voice, or his words. “The sky shall be my home and the thunder shall love me like the father you denied me. Let not the madness of paranoia consume you, mother, I will not be lost like you so fear.” As the words finished spilling from him, he collapsed in a heap on the ground.
Rhea called for the Nymphos to help, as they began to tend to Zeus. Ida spoke up first as they tended to the young boy. “Rhea, do you recall what the Oracle told you?”
Rhea’s eyebrows raised. “Yes?”
Adrasteia continued, realizing where her sister was going. “Rhea, a ten-day from now is the mark of a decade hence. It is almost time for you and Zeus to return to Olympus.”

It took 9 days for Zeus to fully recover from his encounter with The Storm, what we would now call The Vast. Those 9 days he spent atop the mountain he’d been raised below, watching the storm above as he sat atop its seat of power. He was truly entranced by the flashes of light across the sky, and the echo of thunder. When the 9th day of his recovery came, he was still sitting atop the mountain when Rhea approached.

“Zeus, have I ever told you why we came here?” She had asked her son.
“Because my father was a cruel man.” The boy responded.
His mother shook her head. “Not just that. Did I ever tell you of Delphi?”
Zeus turned to look at his mother, tilting his head. “The Oracle? You’ve told me of her, what does she have to do with me though mother?”
“I went to see her when you were too young to remember. She told me to take you and raise you beyond the waves for a decade. Tomorrow marks the end of that decade. It’s time to go home, my son.”
Zeus’ golden eyes lit up. “To Olympus?!”
“To Olympus.” Rhea smiled. 

In that moment of joy, as Rhea stood to leave her son a moment's privacy and Zeus’ excitement grew, a bolt of lightning struck the child, just as it had those 10 years ago. But this time, Zeus was entirely unharmed. Rhea hurried to check over her child, only to find his muscles more defined, his eyes glowing ever so slightly, and his skin tingling with electricity. That scent permeated the air, the same scent from the first time he’d been struck, but it did not fade. Even as Rhea and Zeus were boarding the ship provided by the Nymphos the next day, that smell did not fade. If anything, as they made to sail for the storm and the clouds seemed to part around Zeus, the scent grew stronger. And Rhea grew worried about the child she was bringing back to her home.

It only took a week after the King’s disappearance for the people to begin demanding that Delphi name a new king, for no Queen nor Prince remained to fill that role. Delphi would only respond by telling the people that they all still love. For a decade hence, Olympus was without a king, until Delphi finally allowed a king to return. But she did not grant the crown to Zeus, no. She instead had Python pull the half-dead King Parinmon from beneath the Cave of Delphi.

As the King returned from his shallow grave, he looked upon the Oracle with fear, his dishevelled form nonthreatening to the girl who’d not aged a day since last they met. “Why have you done this to me?”
Delphi stared at King Parinmon. She already knew what she had to say, she’d been planning these words for the last decade, reciting them in her free time. She cleared her throat, and spoke a prophecy to the king.

“The Child of the Endless Storm returns;

The golden-eyed once-called prince;

By his hand the kingdom burns;

And none shall know Parinmon since.”

“My son is alive?!” Parinmon’s eyes widened. “And he’s coming home?!”
Delphi stared into Parinmon’s soul. “Either you will kill him, or he will kill you. The end is for you to decide.” 
But Delphi was lying. Of course she was, she knew the choice would be entirely Zeus’. And she knew Zeus would hold no remorse for the man whom he has no connection to. But, with the threads weaving, all she had to do now was wait. As King Parinmon returned to his throne, dishevelled and broken, but still alive. And as Zeus finished the last days of his decade in the home of The Storm, all she had to do was wait. Soon, this tapestry would weave itself together. And her masters in the room behind her have long since finished the depiction of the child she’d sent to the Nymphos, yet still they would weave the tapestry, ever bigger it would slowly get. All they had to do… was wait.

Chapter Text

In order to understand the full story of Zeus’ ascension to divinity, we must understand other elements of the story. The tapestry of The Fates, what we would understand as the plans of The Web, expanded far beyond just the young Zeus you see. He may have been the first, but their tapestry captured much more than him. One such element began three years after Rhea took her son away from Olympus, when a young nameless man came to visit The Oracle Delphi. Just as with all those who came before and all those who came after, he sought guidance. He sought a new life, and a name, away from his slavery. He had lived in the Kingdom of Othrys, where slaves were not given the luxury of names, and heard tales from travellers of the ageless woman who would grant guidance to those in need. He fled from his masters and found himself kneeling before The Oracle Delphi with nothing but the clothes on his back. The Oracle Delphi gave him a prophecy, as she could see potential burning within him.

“North shall head the unchained slave;

To mortal kind he brings the flame;

As the burning pyre he shall brave;

And let Prometheus be thy name.”

And so Prometheus was born. He left the City of Olympus, heading northwards. He wasn’t sure what the Oracle Delphi meant by what she’d said, but he decided it to mean he must travel with a torch aflame and turn the first settlement he found to a pyre. And turn it to a pyre he did. Naught but a day’s travel north of Olympus he found a small village, where he first offered the people the flame he had carried. When he would be turned down, he turned the flame upon the village. Unknown to Prometheus, the village was going through a drought at the time, and the highly flammable buildings were very dry. One spark set the whole place ablaze and standing there in the flames, Prometheus fell in love. He reached out for the fire and let it spread to him, let it burn him. But instead of burning his skin, he allowed the fire in and it had sunk beneath his outer flesh, to burn his heart instead. Prometheus accepted The Flame, what we would now call The Desolation, and left the village. He sought Othrys, where he would return a revered entity, a titan along with the rest.

A traveller had arrived in the village where a young girl, only 13 years old, lived bearing only a burning torch. He had said the Oracle Delphi had told him to bring the torch as an offering. The young girl, Hestia, her name was, watched the village elders try to turn the man away. She watched the fire catch and spread. She heard the screams of her family. She desperately tried to douse the flames, but soon the whole place was ablaze. Standing there, amongst the flames, Hestia had never been so terrified. She desperately tried to quiet the flames, to keep them from growing, but she couldn’t take her eyes from them. Despite the fear, the way the light flickered in the sunset entranced her. She could not save her family, her friends, or any of the people she’d grown up beside. But, as the fire raged and engulfed her, she forced it to quiet down. In the complete and utter loss she felt, the fire listened to her. She took it into her heart, where it burned her from the inside out. She swore she would not let these flames get out of control. The face of the man who set her village aflame was seared into her memory, but he was gone before she could burn him in turn. Hestia bore The Flame, what we would now call The Desolation, and left the smoldering ruins of her home. She set out for Olympus, where she could confront the Oracle who had sent this man to burn her family.

The second of The Fates’ weavings that we must know happened 3 years after Prometheus had sought The Oracle. A father by the name of Dioclesus, his wife, and their 8 year old son came before The Oracle Delphi seeking safe passage overseas away from the poor conditions of their home in Olympus. They sought the island that would later be known as Lesbos, where Dioclesus’ father had come from. The Oracle smiled, for she saw potential in the family’s son, and spoke to the family a prophecy.

“To sail east t’wards land of home;

One is lost on ocean’s journey;

Must you seek to oceans roam;

Sailing northern storms be your key.”

The words were far from her best, but they instilled enough fear to feed from, and they served their purpose. Dioclesus took his family aboard a ship and they sailed away, north-east where they would traverse the gathering storm. Heavy waves would slam against the ship, rocking the boat as the rain fell upon them. The son, however, watched the waves with amazement, enthralled by their beauty.
“Get away from the edge, Poseidon!” Dioclesus would call to his son. “It’s not safe!”
But Poseidon didn’t listen. The waves crashed against the ship and every impact was more interesting than the last to the young boy. 
“Poseidon, please! Get below deck, it’s not safe here!” Dioclesus would shout uselessly as he tried to keep the ship from sinking. 
The Fates' plans would come to fruition when the largest wave the family had ever seen would slam against the ship, sending Poseidon hurtling overboard. 

Poseidon wasn’t afraid of the water, even as he felt it fill his lungs. The depths were only more fascinating as the surface got further and further away. And he soon realized that, although water filled his lungs, he wasn’t drowning. His whole life he’d loved the ocean. Never feared the storms, or the tides. And now, that love rewarded him. Because, although he had not told his father, he didn’t want to leave Olympus. And as he fell into the ocean, made anew in the depths, he began to swim back towards the Olympian shores. He found the vast expanse of the ocean was nothing to him as he embraced The Waves. He’d arrived on the shores in half the time it’d taken the boat to sail to the point where he’d fallen. And even days after he’d returned to Olympus, he couldn’t get the smell of salt from his still-wet hair. Poseidon returned to Olympus where he found his grandmother, Dorellikan, and begged her to let him live with her, which she graciously allowed.

And, with everything now in motion, The Fates only had to wait. Delphi only had to offer guidance when asked. The other pieces would fall into place soon enough, as a raft with two occupants arrived on Olympian shores, bearing a golden-eyed child and his mother, and on the streets two more children waiting with slowly growing powers as they fell deeper into their devotions. And, as you are likely aware, three more children are soon to fall into the trap of The Fates. Or, perhaps they already had.

You see, when Hestia arrived to the city of Olympus, she needed a home. She’d wandered the streets for three days before she was found by another girl, 6 years her junior. The girl offered her food, which Hestia ate but it did not sate her hunger. She asked the younger girl her name, and she told her she was called Hera, and asked Hestia her name. Hestia told Hera her name, and said she had wandered to Olympus from distant lands. Hera asked if Hestia had a home in Olympus and Hestia told her no, and so Hera invited Hestia to her home. Hestia agreed, and was taken away to one of the many marble homes atop Olympus, where the wealthiest citizens lived. Hera entered the building she called home and called out to her mother and father. 
“Mother! Father! I am home!”
Her father, Makinos, rounded the corner to look up his daughter, but stopped as he saw the older girl with her. His expression had already been colder, but yet it grew colder still. “Hera, who is this girl?”
Hera bowed before her father, gesturing for Hestia to do the same. As she rose from her bow, she responded. “Forgive me father, but she was alone. She has no one. Can we keep her? Please father? I shall tend to the hearth for a fortnight.”
Makinos studied his daughter and her new friend, turning his attention to Hestia. “Speak, girl. What is your name?”
“Hestia, sir.” Hestia would respond, still bowing to the man.
Makinos’ voice was stern, and Hestia feared the distance in it. “Do you know how to clean? To care for children? To tend to the hearth?” 
“Yes sir. I can help however you see fit, sir.”
Makinos stared at Hestia for another long moment before he finally nodded. “You can stay for as long as you make yourself useful. Hera, take her to the hearth.”
“Of course father.” Hera bowed to her father, then reached out for Hestia’s hand. As soon as their hands touched, Hera recoiled in pain, wincing silently as she looked at her palm, completely burned. She looked back at Hestia and was suddenly very afraid of the creature she’d just brought into her life. And for the first time since her village burned, Hestia felt less hungry. 
Hera led Hestia to the family hearth, and as Hestia looked upon the flames she felt that same fear and admiration she’d felt the night her village burned. She reached out for the fire, trying to imagine it staying low. Why would these people keep fire in their house? She didn’t notice she was shaking in fear until Hera spoke up.
“Are you ok?” Hera asked.
Hestia startled, the hearth’s flames erupting as her focus was broken. Panic set in and she quickly tried to dim the flames again as she lied. “Yup! Yeah. I’m fine, I’m ok.” Hestia turned her focus to the hearth again.
Hera, even more frightened after the flame erupted, gave Hestia a moment, then decided to guide her through how to tend the hearth. She hoped that if she treated this creature kindly, it would allow her life. 

Over 8 years, Hestia lived in the home of Hera, tending the hearth every day, afraid the fire would escape and burn the new family she’d made. She noted many oddities with this family, however. Every single member of the family would treat one another with the utmost formality. Bowing to elders, calling each other “father” “mother” “sister” “brother” or on some occasions even “sir” or “ma’am”. Hera was the most excitable member of the family, and as she grew older she would begin being punished for showing emotions of any kind. Outrage was the only respectable feeling. Never once did anyone express love, or adoration, or any sort of affection to one another. Hestia never saw her family hug, or kiss, and she swore her adoptive parents only ever had intercourse for procreation, though she would much rather not think about it all together. 
Had Hestia not already been devoted to The Flame, she might have fallen to the powers that were within this house. The entity we would call The Stranger seemed to radiate from the walls of this place, and every guest that ever came by, and there were many guests, would feel that unease of something just ever so slightly off. 
As time went on, even her favourite sister, Hera, became distant from Hestia. Though they’d taken her in, this family felt almost less like family than the streets she’d wandered when she first arrived, but worse than the fire, Hestia feared the loss of what little comfort she had found in the distant familiarity. When their mother died, the woman who’d raised Hera and her siblings from birth, and had been a mother to Hestia for 5 years, Hestia was the only one who cried. Of course, she stayed by the hearth, having learned its best to keep her head down like the flames, so no one noticed, and no one cared. Her own fear fed her patron for those 8 years, her fear of fire was sufficient enough to keep her patron from letting loose the flame within her. And that was her life for 8 years. Stay out of sight, out of mind, and keep the fire low.

The journey back to Olympus was far easier than the journey to Crete, and as Rhea saw the mountain in the distance, dread set in. She knew in an instant she’d be arrested and her son killed if King Parinmon found out they’d returned. She knew he’d recognize them by her son’s unique eye colour, so she came up with a solution. She tore a piece of her toga, and wrapped it around Zeus’ eyes to hide them from anyone who would report him to King Parinmon. She then led her son up the mountain and to the city of Olympus. She discovered a small abandoned home on the outskirts of the city, where she and Zeus settled down to live. She finally removed his blindfold and took him outside to look upon the beautiful city he’d come from. She warned him that he should hide for some time, live only on their property, and never let a stranger look him in the eyes. And he took her words to heart. For the next year, he lived in hiding.

And with everything, and everyone, in place, The Fates only had one thing left to weave before the fate of Olympus fell into place, and they could begin weaving the fate of Othrys. So, about a week after Zeus turned twelve years old, the Oracle Delphi summoned King Parinmon once again. The disheveled king arrived in the Cave of Delphi, flanked with guards. But this time, they were not to threaten the Oracle Delphi, they were simply to protect the king from would-be conspirators.
“What did you call me for now? It has been a year and my son still has not returned to Olympus.” King Parinmon was visibly tired, his paranoia was getting to him. “When is he set to return?”
The Oracle Delphi smiled. “The Golden-eyed child of storm has already returned to Olympus, and has hidden from you well.”
Anger flashed across the king’s face for a moment, but it quickly deflated. “Where is he?” Was all the king managed to ask.
The Oracle Delphi smiled again, the words she needed to spin coming to her quickly as she spoke a prophecy to the king.

“Rebellion grows at the hand of The Storm;

Burn the bud before it blooms;

The family where formality performs;

A childless elder shall meet her doom.

The old queen hides in Olympian slums;

Raze her home and crops in flames;

Reveal her child as a great storm comes;

And the rightful king power shall claim.”

The king's eyes sparkled with something he had not known in many moons. Hope. He could actually, for once in his life, hope. Unfortunately, he had no idea he was playing right into the hands of The Fates. And as he left the Cave of Delphi to destroy the lives of the 4 people most capable of destroying him, Delphi returned to the sisters.
“Sisters of Fate, I have sent King Parinmon to burn the homes of the Child of Sea, the Child of Flame, the Child of Strangers, and the Child of Storm. Soon, Olympus will be remade in your image.”
The first of the sisters, Clotho, smiled. “Well done Delphi! You will soon be ready to be a weaver yourself!”
The second of the sisters, Lacheisis, nodded. “Yes. Tell us, what think you of the tapestry we have weaved?” She held up the finished tapestry. It depicted a young golden-eyed boy with lightning in his veins and a crown atop his head sat in a throne. At his feet knelt King Parinmon, pleading for mercy. To his left and right, three other children stood looking down upon the king with varied expressions. A brown haired woman wire fire in her heart looked upon the king with sympathy. A black haired girl bore an unreadable expression as she looked upon the king. And the black-haired boy who even through the tapestry smelt of salt-water, looked upon the king with wrath in his eyes.
Delphi nodded. “A beautiful tapestry, sisters.”
The third of the sisters, Atropos, glowered at Delphi. “Do you not see the flaws? The imperfections? You are not nearly ready to be a weaver. You have much work to do.”
The three sisters spoke in unison before Delphi could respond. “Leave us!”
Dejected, but determined to do better, Delphi nodded and left the chamber.

“Meliae, darling! Could you come help me with this harvest? I’m getting too old for this!” Rhea called out to her neighbour. 
The younger brown-haired woman, who looked as though she could be Rhea’s sister, smiled from where she sat looking to her daughter harvesting her fields, and stood. “Of course Rhea!” Meliae made her way across towards Rhea’s field, bringing with her some gardening supplies, including her favourite sickle. She kept an eye on her light-brown haired daughter as she helped Rhea to harvest her crops. “When are you going to bring your little Zeus out to meet my daughter? They could be a wonderful match for each other, I’m sure.”
Rhea shook her head. “He’s not ready, it’s too dangerous. He still doesn’t even know who his father is yet. Once King Parinmon dies out, then Zeus can meet her.”
Meliae sighed in disappointment. “My Little Sprout needs a friend. Are you sure he can’t at least come out to meet her? She’s been so alone, it’s only been me and her for 16 years now.”
Rhea once again shook her head. “I promise, as soon as he isn’t in danger, Zeus can come out and meet her.”
Meliae finally relented, for now. “Alright. That king had better get to dying fast, then.” Her attention turned as movement approached the two mothers. “Speaking of, hello Little Sprout!”
“Mom! Aunty Rhea!” The young girl smiled. “What are you two talking about?”
“Nothing, sweet-heart, nothing.” Rhea laughed to herself. “What can I help you with?”
“Can I meet Zeus?!” Her eyes lit up as she asked the question, and Rhea hated to shut her down. But, she had to.
“I’m sorry, not yet. He’s still really shy. Soon, though, I promise!” Rhea forced herself to lie. 
The girl, disappointed but not surprised, sighed. “Alright.”
Meliae looked between her daughter, and the unfinished harvest, and cleared her throat. “Little Sprout, please finish your chores before bothering Rhea.”
The girl sighed. “Alright, fine.” And she made her way back to her fields.
The mothers laughed to themselves and returned to their own work, chatting and laughing with each other.

But just as the mothers were about to finish with their work, disaster struck. Heavy footsteps approached the farms. Soldiers, armed with lit torches in the setting sun, helmed by a man that Rhea didn’t even recognize anymore, disheveled and broken, but determined. His voice rang out over the fields as the sun was setting in the distance.
“RHEA!” 
Even hidden in the secret basement of his home, Zeus heard the voice. He knew immediately that man was his father. Lightning ran through his veins, The Storm that had raised him once again offering him the power to escape.
Fear filled Rhea’s head as she looked upon the man. Though he had clearly been destroyed over the last decade, he still had the same voice, the same hair, and the same piercing eyes that bore daggers into any who looked upon him. Meliae stepped between Rhea and the King, speaking first. “WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH HER?”

The Little Sproud turned towards her mother as she heard her voice. She could see the approaching soldiers as they began to encircle the premises.
“WHERE IS MY SON, RHEA?!” Parinmon’s voice roared over the sunset sky.
Meliae responded again. “YOU CAN’T HAVE HIM!” As she raised the sickle defensively.
Parinmon’s gaze turned stone cold, as he looked to the men behind him. “Find my son. The golden-eyed boy. Burn the farms, and kill those two women. Bring Zeus to me, alive.”
Before Rhea or Meliae could even react, two soldiers fired arrows at the pair of mothers. One pierced Meliae’s throat, and the other lodged itself in Rhea’s chest. Both women collapsed. Meliae was dead before she hit the ground, but Rhea’s death was a lot slower. The soldiers dropped their torches on the crops and forced themselves into Rhea’s home.

The girl cried out in anguish as she looked upon the bodies of her mother and Rhea, rushing to the side of the bleeding Rhea as the fire quickly spread around them. Though she was dying, Rhea managed to speak her final words, whispering to the young girl. “Beneath my home there is a cave, the entrance is covered by a wooden chest. The cave opens down the mountain to the south. Find my son, keep him safe. Please. Tell him…” Rhea coughed up blood. “His father is the King. Tell him… tell him I said… let the world come at you… You… are… stro…ng…” She barely managed to finish those words before her life faded from her. The girl turned to the south, and ran. While the king’s men ransacked the home of Rhea, the young girl made her way for the cave’s exit.

But she didn’t have to run far until she came across him. Overhead, the setting sun was covered by storm clouds as it began to rain. The fire had done its work, but before it could spread any further it was doused by rain. The echo of thunder startled the soldiers, but the young girl’s eyes were drawn elsewhere. To the south, a single glowing point rose into the sky. Lightning running across his form, Zeus ascended to the sky, flying with blinding speed until he was directly above his home. A bolt of lightning shot from his hand to the roof of the building, splitting it apart and revealing the sky to the soldiers within. His voice echoed with thunder, his words very much his own this time. “This is your only chance. Leave, now, and you shall be spared the wrath of The Eternal Storm. Try to kill me, and your fears become reality.”

The crackle of electricity echoed from Zeus, as thunder crashed overhead. He could feel the fear of the soldiers below, and he had never been so sated. The soldier’s fear of The Storm fed Zeus, which in turn gave him the power to spread that fear. He snapped his fingers and another bolt of lightning struck near to the farm, and the soldiers ran. He let them run, of course. Killing them would be a waste of fear. Slowly, as the soldiers ran, Zeus descended from the sky as the rain continued to fall. The 12 year old boy carefully touched down next to where his mother’s body lay. He placed a gentle hand on her corpse, closing her eyes for the final time as footsteps behind him drew closer. Electricity ran through his veins, forming into a lightning bolt in his hand as he quickly turned around, pointing the bolt at the girl who approached him.

“Who are you?” His voice had less thunder behind it, but it still echoed slightly.
The girl carefully showed her hands were empty, looking at the bodies, then back to the boy she’d heard so much about. “My name is Demeter. I was… a friend of your mother’s.”
Zeus’ expression softened, and the bolt disappeared from his hand. “Demeter. My mother spoke of you like you were a child of hers.”
Demeter, still very cautious of the creature she’d once been excited to meet, continued. “I was… here. When- when she died. She wanted me to tell you… Your father is King Parinmon.”
Zeus’ eyebrows furrowed. “I should have known.”
Demeter nodded. “And… she wanted me to tell you that she said… uh, ‘Let the world come at you. You are strong.’ But I don’t know what that means.”
Zeus could feel the tears forming in his eyes as he considered the words. After a long moment, he replied. “It means it’s time Olympus gained a new king.”

Chapter Text

Hestia stared at the hearth for 8 years without wavering, for fear the fire might escape and burn everything she loved once more. But, one evening that changed. It happened so fast.
One moment, Hestia was listening to the same repeated small talk of the family that only ever pretended to love one another, the next there was a loud pounding at the door as voices shouted from the outside. 
The Olympian guards demanded the door be opened, demanded they be let in. When Makinos refused to allow them entry, the soldiers forced the door open. They struck down Makinos before he could even say anything.
The family Hestia had come to love were slaughtered by the city’s guards while Hestia couldn’t bring herself to pull away from the hearth for fear it would kill whatever family managed to escape the slaughter. But, when the guards turned their spears on the Child of Flame, she had to make a choice.

Hera came home from the markets to find her family home in ashes. Standing alone in the middle of the destruction, fire licking up her arms, threatening to destroy anything that gets too close, was the now 21 year old girl she’d taken in nearly a decade ago. She could feel that fear bubbling up once again, the same fear she felt when she’d realized Hestia wasn’t completely human.

The fire died quickly as a storm formed overhead, thunder echoing a little too close for comfort, but the damage had already been done. Hestia had let the fire escape, and destroyed everything she held dear. When she noticed Hera had returned, she quickly tried to control the fire, forcing it to die down as she turned and forced a smile to her sister. One that didn’t meet her eyes. 
“It’s alright. The bad guys are gone now.” She managed through the tears that evaporated on her cheeks.
Hera stared at the monster that had destroyed her home for a long moment before she noticed the bodies. Dozens of soldiers lay charred at Hestia’s feet, while Hera’s family all had clearly been stabbed. Had this… creature tried to save them?

“What are you?” Hera finally managed to ask.
“I’m your sister, right?” Hestia choked out in response. 
And Hera could only nod in response. 
The storm didn’t last long.

Rain pounded heavy on the windows of the home of Poseidon and his grandmother Dorellikan when they’d arrived. Four soldiers, armed with spears, pounded on their door. Dorellikan opened the door with a smile, but before she could even ask how she could help, she was stabbed. In the same moment, lightning struck far too close to the home. Poseidon watched from the hearth as his grandmother was struck down. His rage boiled as he stood from where he sat.

The boy was only 13 years old, but the guards who’d struck down his grandmother were never seen again. Perhaps they died, I’d like to believe they did. But, it would have been a mercy if Poseidon had let them drown. What’s more likely, is that when Poseidon threw them from the mountain’s edge and the ocean swallowed them whole, it wasn’t the sea that they began to fall endlessly into, but the sky. The Vast, in all its forms, was quite fond of Poseidon, after all.
The storm didn’t last long. The rain was gone even before the soldiers vanished.

As Zeus’ anger faded, so too did the storm overhead. The fields where his and Demeter’s mothers worked were naught but ashes. The boy looked up the mountain towards the peak where the marble palace stood overlooking Olympus. Without a single plan in mind, Zeus began to march towards the palace. Demeter grabbed the sickle her mother had died holding, and hurried to catch up with the boy.

Poseidon sat outside his grandmother’s home, struck with grief as the adrenaline faded. He did not know why he chose to go for a walk, but he did. The subtle influence of the Weaver of Fates guided his path to cross with a pair of kids around his age. The girl appeared to be a little older than him, while the boy appeared a little younger. He did not know why he chose to speak to them, but he did. His voice cracked as he spoke, and Zeus saw that same anger in this newcomer’s eyes as he felt in his veins. Zeus asked the boy what was wrong, and Poseidon explained what had happened to his grandmother. Demeter explained that they had also suffered at the king’s hand, and Zeus offered for Poseidon to come with them.

Now three, the children of Olympus continued their march through the slums of the city until they reached the higher points where the aristocrats resided. Zeus did not know why he turned his attention to the smoke rising in the distance. When the three arrived at the smouldering ruin, Zeus saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, sobbing at the feet of what looked to be an older sister.

Hestia saw the approach of three kids around Hera’s age as she tried to comfort her sister. It was hard, not being able to touch her, but she had hoped her words of comfort would be enough. She stood as she saw the approach of the three children and gave them a warning, clear and firm, not to take another step.
“Stay where you are.” Her voice echoed. “We have already lost enough this day.”
“To the king?” Was Zeus’ only response. Hestia nodded cautiously. “Then join us. Then, I will be king.”
“You? Why should I want you to be king?” 
“Do you want Parinmon to be king?”
Before Hestia could respond, Hera spoke up. “Please… let me kill him. I… I don’t have much to offer, but I want to make him suffer.”
Poseidon snarled. “We all do, why should you get to kill him?”
Zeus stared at the girl for a long moment as he thought. “Ok.”
“What?!” Poseidon turned his rage to Zeus. “Why her?!”
Zeus raised his hand to Poseidon. “On two conditions. Everyone gets a turn to torment him.”
“Ok!” Hera nodded.
“What’s the second condition?” Hestia was far more cautious than her sister.
Zeus nodded to Hera. “I want her to be my queen.”
Smoke began to rise from Hestia’s mouth as she growled her response. “What?! No! You-”
“I’ll do it.” Hera stood from where she had knelt. She wiped the tears from her face, an eerie calm falling over her. “I will marry you, once the king is dead by my hand.”

The five of them together marched on the Olympian palace. Poseidon, Zeus, and Hestia easily managed to slaughter the guards as they forced their way into the throne room, spreading fear with every step. Who were these children, so powerful with dark magics and witchcraft? When they barged into the chambers of the king, they did not give the king the opportunity to ask who they were before Hestia seared his mouth closed, to further prevent his voice from damaging those who have loving families. The disheveled king drew his blade, as his eyes froze from Poseidon’s power, to further prevent the sight he used to look down upon his people. He swung the sword wildly, but he was easily disarmed by Zeus, who used the sword to castrate the man who called himself king, to further prevent his ability to bear children like Zeus who would need to hide from his wrath. He attempted to swing his fists at the children, but Demeter reaped his arms like grain from the field, to further prevent his ability to destroy with his own hands. Beaten and broken, with no voice, no sight, no arms, and no pride, the king fell to his knees. He tried to beg for mercy, but had no means to do so. And so, Hera wrapped her hands around the king’s head, her arms seeming to elongate in an unnatural way, just enough to make the others feel uneasy. Then, she twisted. With a crack, then a snap, the head of King Parinmon turned around 180 degrees, and he fell limp to the ground.

Zeus dropped the sword he’d taken from his father to the ground, as he did not care for the weapon. He approached the throne his father had risen from, and sat himself upon it. Almost as soon as he did, the door opened as a woman walked through. Her hair red as flame, dressed in lavender robes lined with gold. She smiled as she looked upon the boy in his rightful place as king.
“Who are you?” Zeus demanded.
“The Oracle, Delphi. And you are Zeus, Child of Storm, and rightful King of Olympus. Here as well are the Child of Flame, Child of Sea, and Child of Strangers.” Delphi looked to Hestia, then Poseidon, and finally to Hera as she spoke. “I serve the Weaver of Fates, just as you serve the Endless Storm. Just as young Hestia serves The Ash in Your Mouth, as young Hera serves The Almost Right, and as young Poseidon serves The Things Beneath The Waves. The people of Olympus simply know me as a servant of Fate. You, too, should convince them that your powers are your own, and not gifts from beyond. Perhaps, if you dedicate yourself to fear, the infinity of Truth may grant you immortality, the same as I. I come to offer a partnership. An alliance between the Kings of Olympus, and the Sisters of Fate.”
“Kings?” Zeus raised an eyebrow.
“You must share your throne with your siblings in arms. The four of you-”
“Five.” Hestia corrected.
Delphi’s eyes turned, for the first time, to Demeter. “I suppose. The five of you must rule Olympus together. Your united command over fear will be vital to the next steps. For now, establish yourselves as the kings. I will ensure the people’s support. Live your lives as you see fit. In time, we Sisters of Fate will have further instructions for you.”
“And if we don’t agree?” Poseidon asked.
“Your father sailed into that storm because we told him to. The man who brought fire to Hestia’s village did so because we told him to. Queen Rhea fled with Zeus because we told her to. When King Parinmon vanished, it was us the people turned to for leadership. It would take but one word for the Sisters of Fate to unravel the tapestry that allowed you all to sit here. Without our weavings, you are nothing. If you don’t agree to our terms, you will perish. Your rule will die with you, and you will be completely forgotten. But, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain if you agree.”
Poseidon’s face contorted in anger. He wasn’t fond of being threatened, but he turned to Zeus, as if waiting for his response.
Zeus took a moment to think before he rose from the throne, hand outstretched to Delphi. “Deal.”

You must be wondering, then, why there are only five who share the throne of Olympus. Was it not so that there was a third brother? Is it not so that the myths tell of the eldest son of Kronos who drew the shortest straw and was cast to the underworld as its ruler? Where is he in this equation? Did he ever exist, as the others did?
Well, of course he did. But, you must be patient.

Hades is a… longer story.