Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hestia, are you listening? Tomorrow night, when your father introduces his brothers and they enter the dining hall, you are to show both Coeus and Hyperion to their seats.”

Hestia had not intended to let her mind wander. But the air in her mother’s study was stifling, and she longed to be outside where the breeze was cooler and the duties less… dull. Attending her mother had been a great privilege and honour - it meant she would be owed more respect, more responsibility, more favour in the eyes of the other titans. But it also meant boring jobs and more attention to her posture than she had ever wanted to give. 

“I’m listening, mother.” Hestia said softly, returning her gaze to her mother’s face and not the open window. “I will escort them, and make conversation as I always do.”

Rhea breathed a sigh of relief, and reached out to pat her daughter’s cheek. “Good. I know this might not be the most exciting job in the world, but diplomacy is important. Your father’s reign is unchallenged, but it does not mean the alliances are stable. With your help, we can protect him. We can protect this family.”

Hestia bobbed her head in acknowledgement. Duty, honour, protection, stability, peace - these were words thrown around often. They were words that she was meant to favour above all others. “Yes, mother. I know. I will do everything in my power to ensure that is the case.”

Rhea smiled. “My sweet girl. I am so proud of all you--” She trailed off, her gaze narrowed, squinting at something behind Hestia’s head. Hestia whirled in curiosity.

Her hand immediately came up to cover her mouth as tinkling laughter burst free. Someone was lurking in the hallway next to the open door, given away by their wild brown curls which poked into frame.

“Demeter,” Rhea scolded, and the young goddess in question squeaked before peeking around the corner. Hestia giggled harder, but Rhea’s expression remained stoic. “What are you doing here, my heart? You know you aren’t supposed to hear these things.”

Demeter had only endured twelve years of life, in which time she had become inseparable from her mother and eldest sister. She was dark haired, with tightly wound curls, and brown skin like their father. Her fingers wound into the fabric of her chiton, looking much like a child caught with their hand in the sweets jar. “I was bored, mama. I thought maybe I could help Hestia tomorrow!”

Rhea sighed, brushing a lock of hair away from her face with a flourish. “Demeter, dear, you know you are too young. These tasks will be yours when you are older. All I need from you tomorrow is your brilliant smile, and your belly full.”

Demeter frowned, deflating before their eyes. Hestia offered her a sympathetic expression, but it did little to change her sister’s appearance. “That’s so boring!”

“Not as boring as this,” Hestia countered, offering her sister a wink. “Trust me, you’ll be the one having all the fun.”

“Hestia,” Rhea said, exasperated, though the corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. “Well, now your sister has spilled the truth. Being big is boring, more boring than being a child.”

Demeter worried her lip between her teeth. “Well, if that’s true…”

“And it is.” Hestia replied.

“Then maybe I am not ready to be big.” Demeter decided finally.

Rhea smiled. “Good girl. Now, go find your brothers and play with them. I saw Poseidon with the toy swords this morning.”

Demeter’s eyes widened, and she bobbed her head excitedly. “I will go! Goodbye, mother! Goodbye, Hestia!”

Then she raced back off into the hallway, leaving behind mother and daughter with matching smiles on their faces.

“Will you take her on as your attendant someday too, mother?” Hestia asked, sinking back into her chair.

Rhea was still staring at the empty doorframe, a faraway look in her eye that Hestia found very peculiar. When her mother finally spoke, her voice was quiet, so unregal. “I hope I do not have to.”

~

When her lessons and meeting finally came to an end, and it was time to go down for dinner, Hestia was exhausted. Her brain was thoroughly zapped of all its strength and energy. She trudged into the dining hall, caring little for her posture then as slouching was far more comfortable. 

She was the last of her siblings to enter, the other five already scattered around the table in various states of disarray.

Poseidon held his head in one hand, lazily flicking olives at Demeter who shrieked with every attempt. She swatted one out of the air, and it hit Hera directly in the forehead.

Hera scowled, and brandished a knife at their brother who immediately sat up straighter, hands off the bowl of olives. Zeus sat next to Poseidon, giggling madly at the exchange, sitting with his knees tucked under him so he could reach the food on the table.

Strangest of all was Hades, who sat next to his twin sister in silence. He was stiff as a board, staring straight at the table as though the other four were not wreaking havoc beside him. Shadows swirled around his feet, tickling Hera’s legs, and she kicked him hard in annoyance. Still, he did not react.

Hestia wandered over to the hearth and stuck her hand against the wood there. Quick as could be, flames erupted in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the dining hall. When she turned, she plastered on her greatest stern older sister glare, and placed a hand on her hip.

“Mother and father are not here yet. Why are you all touching your food?” She asked.

Immediately, Poseidon sank lower in his seat, grumbling something under his breath she could not make out. Beside him, Zeus’ eyes went wide, lip wobbling treacherously. He was no more than ten years old, and he was still so sensitive. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, he was a mirror image of their mother, but lacked any of her fire. He spent his time following Poseidon or Hades or Hestia around, begging to be played with. It sometimes seemed he cried more than he smiled.

Demeter beat Hestia to comforting him, leaning forward to whisper to Zeus. “You are not in trouble, Zeusie, it’s alright.”

Hestia sank into her chair next to Poseidon, leaning back against the wood. Seconds after she had sat down, the door opened, and in walked their mother and father. Immediately, six bodies jumped up from their seats, Hades slowest of all to rise. Their father, Cronus, King of the Titans, was a foreboding man. His dark hair was streaked grey despite how much ambrosia he consumed, and his face was stern, brows forever furrowed. He was not unkind - or at least, had always been kind to Hestia, but there was a worry in him that ran deep and made him irritable.

He looked worse tonight. As he marched into the room, he hardly glanced at his children, face buried in a scroll. Cronus circled the table, snatching a plate from the head where he normally sat, throwing a few chunks of bread and fruit and cooked lamb onto it.

“I’ll be eating in my study this evening.” He announced, glancing up from his scroll at last. Hestia could not be sure, but she was fairly certain the marking on the outside was a symbol of Iapetus, their uncle.

“Oh, darling-” Rhea chided. “You really won’t eat with us?”

“No, and I need you to come with me, Rhea. Make your plate.”

Then their father stormed once more from the room. With him gone, Poseidon sank back into his chair, the rest of their siblings following suit. Rhea sighed heavily, turning to one of their servants. “Will you have something sent up to his office for me? I need to make a stop first.”

Then Rhea turned to her children. “All of you, eat well. Lots of ambrosia to stay strong. Not just sweets, the other food too. Zeus, my spark, just try some of the lamb, will you? Behave yourselves.”

She hurried from the room after her husband, leaving her children alone with a few nymph servants who hurried around the table preparing Rhea’s meal as requested.

“What’s wrong with father?” Poseidon asked, breaking the silence. His gaze was focused on Hades, still stone-faced and tense.

Hades was the oldest, after her, at seventeen years. He had been born only a few minutes before Hera, but he had come into his role as eldest boy quickly, given his slow start. He had not always been Cronus and Rhea’s son. There was a time when his hair was as long as Hera’s, his voice as pretty, his face as feminine. But now he was their son, had declared it so himself and shorn his hair. Cronus had been thrilled to know that it was not Poseidon who would be his heir, and had taken quickly to the idea of a child with more wits at his side. With their king on board, no one had even considered questioning Hades on his change. Now he had dark curls that reached his shoulders, olive-toned skin, and he wore the same style of chiton as Poseidon and Zeus.

Hades shrunk under their combined scrutiny, fingers wrapping tight around a spoon. “How should I know?”

“You spend all your time with him!” Poseidon insisted. He was a boisterous young boy, loud and excitable with a temper to be feared. He had dark skin like their father and long black hair kept wild and unkempt. He was the largest of all of them, broad-shouldered and tall at only fifteen years. He had crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Hades with all the strength he could muster. “You must know something.”

Hades shook his head. “I do not.”

“Why do you want to know so badly, anyway?” Hera demanded. “If father wanted you to know anything, he would have told you.”

Hera was a spitfire if there ever was one. She carried herself with grace, meeting everyone with prolonged eye contact and an uplifted chin. Her temper was more subtle than Poseidon, but her fury was not something Hestia ever wanted to be on the receiving end of. She looked like Hades, but she took up far more space.

Poseidon scowled, and Hestia could sense the argument brewing. He did not take kindly to reminders of his position in father’s eyes - less than Hades, an inconvenience and not an asset. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hestia was faster.

“It does not matter.” She said harshly. Hestia might not have been as loud as the others, nor as intimidating, but she had tricks up her sleeve. They respected her, and she could leverage that to her advantage when necessary. “So enough of this. Everyone, eat your supper before it gets cold.”

Silence followed her declaration. Sheepishly, Poseidon reached forward and began to put food and ambrosia on his plate. The others followed suit, naught but the clinking of dishes to be heard.

“Do I have to try the lamb?” Zeus whined, breaking the silence.

“Yes!” Five voices said in unison.

~

The party was in full swing, and Hestia knew it was destined to be an incredible affair.

Servants had been hard at work. The entire open air dining hall - one reserved solely for days like this - was decorated beautifully. Stunning hyacinth and crocus hung from marble pillars inlaid with bronze. Every surface of the dining tables were covered with flowers, or pitchers of nectar made of gold. The smell of cooking food was delectable, wafting from the indoor kitchen several yards across a beautiful stone garden full of more flowers. Sheets of soft white fabric covered the tables, giving them a uniform and clean look.

Nymphs danced to music played on pan flutes and harps. Titans and gods and satyrs mingled between the tables, nursing cups of nectar while exchanging gossip.

At the head of the dining hall, under a beautiful carved arch of white stone sat her mother and father in their thrones, a table laden with fruits and breads and cheese before them. Her father wore his ebony crown upon his head, scythe at his side. He seemed less agitated than the previous evening, but there was still a furrow in his brow that Hestia made note of. Her mother looked radiant, golden hair pinned with flowers, sky blue chiton trailing across her flawless skin. They looked powerful and regal, and Hestia admired them both.

Before the real festivities began, Hestia did a head count. Hades sat two chairs to Cronus’ right, separated from him by their uncle Crius - storm-eyed and stoic. Her brother seemed as uncomfortable as always, but he looked handsome in his dark brown himation, which covered his upper body and must have been unbearable in this heat.

Hera was not seated, but she spoke with the young titaness Hekate not far from their father’s side. Hestia did not know exactly what tasks her father had assigned to Hera, but she suspected it was more than met the eye.

Poseidon and Demeter were standing near a table of sweet desserts, stealing what they could before dinner began, while Zeus tugged at Poseidon’s chiton and begged him for a bite, too.

All accounted for. All keeping out of trouble, for the most part. Hestia breathed a sigh of relief, and prepared herself for her task of the evening.

She mingled. She danced. She made idle conversation until her mother caught her gaze and nodded. At once, Hestia ran to the grand entrance, where she was expected to do her duty.

“Attention!” Cronus shouted. Silence fell over the crowd, music came to an end, and fifty pairs of eyes turned toward the king who commanded them. “I would like to announce the arrival of our guests of honour; my brothers, Hyperion and Coeus!”

The two titans appeared in a crack like thunder, several feet from where Hestia stood. Cheers erupted from the crowd, polite clapping echoing through the masses. Coeus bowed his head subtly, but Hyperion held his arms aloft, beaming with the strength of a thousand suns. Beside him, Coeus rolled his eyes.

As the clapping dissipated, Hestia stepped forward, curtsying before her uncles. “I can show you to your seats, my lords.”

“Ah, Hestia,” Coeus said warmly. “You look more beautiful every time I see you.”

Hestia’s stomach flipped uncomfortably, but she smiled all the same. “Thank you, uncle.”

“Do not even think about it, Coe.” Hyperion chuckled. “Cronus would never let you have her.”

“Your seats are this way.” Hestia kept smiling, even though her body screamed at her to run. With a bow of her head, she led her uncles to their seats, front and center near the king. As they sat, a series of nymphs brought nectar and ambrosia to them, which Hyperion claimed hungrily. 

“I hear there is some unrest in your palace, uncle Hyperion.” Hestia said softly, keeping her eyes wide, curious, concerned. But as she spoke, it was her mother’s voice she heard in her head.

Learn what you can.

Hyperion huffed, narrowing his gaze at Coeus, who threw his hands up in surrender. “Nothing I cannot handle. Iapetus’ brat, Prometheus, was telling me things I-”

Coeus kicked Hyperion’s leg under the table, hard, and Hyperion clamped his mouth shut. Hestia smiled softly, and bowed her head. “My apologies, uncle, I did not mean to pry. I just worry for my cousins Selene and Eos, if something were to happen…”

Hyperion waved his hand dismissively. “They will be fine, because there is no more turmoil.”

“Of course, uncle.”

Coeus narrowed his gaze, sipping his nectar. “Where did you hear this, girl?”

Hestia ducked her head, and hoped the redness of her cheeks passed off as embarrassment and not the anger she truly felt. “You know how nymphs like to gossip. I should not have listened to them, I know better, but I… I wanted to be sure, for my cousin’s sakes.”

Coeus seemed satisfied with that answer, leaning back in his chair. “When is the real meal going to be served? I’m starving.”

His desires were answered soon enough. Cronus rose from his throne, holding his cup aloft. “I would like to toast to my brothers, loyal as they are.”

Cups rose into the air, a murmur of assent.

Cronus continued. “We are all honoured to have you among us. I hope this meal is to your liking, that this company is entertaining, that our--”

A scream rippled from the crowd. Hestia’s head whirled so fast her neck cracked, eyes scanning the room. It was Leto who had screamed, Coeus’ own daughter. Around her, satyrs scrambled backwards. Pallas rose from his seat to examine something on the table before Leto.

It was a flaming arrow. It burned through the table cloth, which went up in flames. Tethys rushed forward, putting it out with a flow of water from the nearby pond.

“What is this?” Cronus demanded. He circled the table, his brother Crius hot on his heels, Hades hurrying behind. As Cronus approached, the crowd cleared.

Hestia fell into step beside Hades, eyes wide and wondering. As their entourage approached the table, surrounding where the arrow protruded, a gasp rose from Tethys’ mouth.

A note attached to the end of the arrow had miraculously avoided going up in the blaze. Cronus unravelled it, his expression furious. He read silently, Crius peering over his shoulder.

On the back of the note was the same symbol as Hestia had seen last night - a bloody head on a spear, the symbol of Iapetus. She did not know much of her uncle, only that he was feared for being bloodthirsty and violent, as were his four sons.

Cronus scowled, glancing up at the small crowd who stood around him now. The air around him seemed to crackle and twist, bending time with the might of his fury. Leto cowered before him, and even Crius knew well enough to give his brother some room.

“Iapetus has declared a war.”

Chapter Text

Hades had never seen so much chaos in his life.

And somehow, it was organized in a way he could only marvel at. His father commanded each of the guests to return to their homes, while he called his most loyal servants and highest ranking family members to his side. Hades stood among them, next to his uncle’s Coeus, Crius, and Hyperion. His cousins, Pallas and Perses, had been beckoned forward by their father. Rhea, Mnemosyne, and Themis stood at Cronus’ side as well, the queen of the titans and the wisest among them all.

“What did the note say?” Themis asked nervously, grey eyes twitching between Cronus and Crius.

“Your reign is over. At dawn, the line of Iapetus march.” Crius recited, running a hand through his inky black hair. Beside him, Hades’ father’s scowl deepened.

“He cannot be serious!” Pallas exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Iapetus thinks he can stand against the might of Othrys? We outnumber him, twenty to one!”

“He could have allies.” Coeus pointed out. “Allies we do not know about.”

Hades wished Coeus had not said it. For weeks, he had listened to his father rant about disloyalty in the confines of his study. Cronus had raged with worry, questioning the motivations of those closest to him. He had done this for a long time, as long as Hades had been his heir, but never before had Hades seen him so agitated as he had been in recent days. And now, his suspicions were proven right - he still had no idea who to trust.

“Coeus, you will get to the bottom of this at once.” Cronus commanded. His brother nodded immediately, turning to take his leave. “Do not let Iapetus know you are searching.”

Coeus disappeared in a flash of bright light. Cronus straightened his back, expression a mask of fury. “The rest of you must prepare for battle. If Iapetus is to come at dawn, we must be ready.”

Hades had prepared for this moment for a long time. Most mornings were spent in his father’s study, reviewing battle strategies, the safeguards of Othrys, the best ways to protect their city from siege, or massive earthquakes, or violent flooding. The afternoons were spent training with Pallas and Perses, on how to wield a sword, a dagger, a club. He would learn to fire arrows and grapple opponents. He had been training for war as long as he could remember, and now it was at his doorstep.

“Hades,” Cronus commanded, beckoning his son forward. Hades flitted to his father’s side, excitement in his chest while the others dispersed in a flurry. Was he going to be given a special assignment? Would he get to lead an army? Would he finally have his first taste of real combat?

“I need you to escort your siblings back to the dining hall, and watch over them there. You must not leave unless I or your mother gives you direct permission.”

Hades’ stomach sank. “I thought Ptelea had taken them already.”

Cronus shook his head, gesturing to a nearby bush which squeaked and chattered. Hades sighed heavily, and noted the way it wobbled. “Take them.”

“But father, I can help!” Hades insisted. He had never spoken so blatantly against his father, and regretted it immediately. Cronus’ expression grew stormier by the second. “I- I just mean, I would be of more use to you in this fight than as a babysitter, father.”

Cronus sighed, and for a moment, Hades thought he looked a thousand years older. He reached for Hades’ shoulder, gripping it fondly. “I need to know my children are safe from Iapetus. He will target you, if he can. I ask you to do this not because I think you are not ready for battle, but because I know I can trust you to keep them safe.”

Hades frowned, pondering it for a moment. Realizing his father was not going to budge, Hades nodded. “Alright. I will keep them safe.”

Cronus sighed in relief, and released his son’s shoulder. Without another word, Cronus disappeared into light, and Hades was the last left standing in the pavilion. Even his mother had left already, saying nothing to any of her children. The truth made his stomach churn.

Hades turned to the bush, circling enough to see all five of his siblings hiding behind it. Demeter was knelt in the dirt, peering through the foliage. Hera and Hestia stood a few steps behind, like they were trying to absolve themselves of any involvement. Poseidon had hoisted Zeus onto his back, who clung tightly to him, hands shaking - out of excitement or fear, Hades could not tell.

Hades locked eyes with Hestia, narrowed his gaze, and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re letting them do this?”

Hestia flushed gold. “We wanted to know what was happening. We deserve to know.”

“I will fill you in on the way back.” Hades reprimanded. He motioned for them to follow him, and hurried away from the open air pavilion and back into the palace. As they wandered, dozens of people streamed past them, carrying weapons or oil or ropes, shouting at one another as they passed. War between the titans would come down to who commanded the largest army, whose might was greater, whose strategy was wiser. Cronus was powerful and wise, something Hades clung desperately to. Iapetus would be defeated, because Cronus had the might, the wisdom, and the numbers on his side.

And if it came down to a clash between brother and brother… Well, Hades hoped desperately that his father could defeat Iapetus in combat. 

Hades shook his head, and continued walking. 

A moment later, a young satyr raced past them, shouting to someone in the room adjacent. 

“Iapetus is going to pierce us all, one by one!” The creature yelled shrilly. Satyrs were skittish at the best of times, but this one seemed extremely panicked. 

A muffled whimper echoed behind him. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he saw Zeus’ face buried in Poseidon’s shoulder, the middle brother trying desperately to calm him.

“It will be alright, Zeusie, he was just being silly. No one is going to hurt you.” Poseidon whispered. That didn’t seem to make Zeus feel any better.

“Why is Iapetus attacking us?” Demeter asked shakily.

“I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter,” Hades said resolutely. “Father will stop this, and everyone will be fine.”

“Are you going to fight?” Hera asked.

Hades bit the inside of his cheek to stop the angry sigh forming in his chest from breaking free. “I do not know.”

“You can’t go!” Zeus cried. Poseidon shushed him, and their little brother sniffled loudly.

“Right now, I must keep you all safe.” Hades pushed open the door to their private dining hall, ordering each of them inside. “So I am not going anywhere, Zeus.”

Hades did not know how he was supposed to keep all six of them contained in the dining hall, when there was nowhere to rest and little to entertain them, but it would have to do. The dining hall was central, well-defended by the rest of the palace, and had two exits. Strategically, it made sense, even if it was not ideal.

“Poseidon, I need your help.” Hades called to his brother. Poseidon lit up, a fact Hades found both predictable and heartbreaking, and the middle brother set Zeus down on the ground. 

“Where are you going?” Zeus asked shrilly, but Hestia swooped in to take over before he could panic too much. She patted his head and stroked his cheek, while Poseidon hurried to Hades’ side.

“We are going to grab the mattresses from upstairs.” Hades explained, guiding Poseidon back from the dining hall. “Father wants us here, so we might as well get comfortable.”

Poseidon’s expression faltered, but he nodded dutifully - a rare change for his bold younger brother. Together, they hurried up to Hestia’s bedroom first, hauling the feather stuffed cloth from her bed and down to the dining hall. They made the trip three times, first Hestia’s, then Poseidon’s, then Demeter’s until a large pile of mattresses were tucked into the corner of the dining hall by the hearth.

When they were finished, Hestia guided Zeus over to the beds, smiling. “Help me make them, Zeus.”

It was a good distraction for him. As the two of them placed blankets and pillows in an arrangement suitable for all of them, Hades beckoned the other three closer. They gathered around the table, for once silent and waiting.

“Father has worried about this for some time.” Hades confessed. That was the truth. For days, Cronus had tracked news of Iapetus’ movements, the amassing of manpower, the storing of food. All messages from Iapetus said he feared an attack from the underworld deities, but Cronus suspected that was false. And now, his fears had come true. 

“That must be why he…” Hera trailed off, shaking her head. “It is why he has had me keeping an eye on Prometheus, when he visits.”

Hades nodded. “That would be likely.”

“But why would Iapetus do this?” Poseidon asked, tugging at what few wisps of facial hair had started to grow on his chin. “Father is powerful. There is no way our uncle could win… is there?”

Hades wished he had an answer. “Probably not. But if he has allies we do not know about, there’s no knowing for certain.”

Demeter’s eyes went wide. “Someone here could be working with uncle Iapetus?”

“It’s possible.” Hera muttered, arms folded across her chest. “There are traitors everywhere, all the time. Some are just too afraid to strike without support. With Iapetus’ declaration… These traitors might finally show their faces.”

At that moment, the side door to the dining hall opened, and their head cook Ptelea wandered in through the door. In her hand was a large platter, one of the ones taken from the party.

“Come, children. Eat quickly, before bed.” Ptelea called. Zeus scurried over from the corner, Hestia at his heels. Ptelea set the platter down on the table while the others filed in. “It’s not anything special tonight, I’m afraid, just what I could salvage from the dinner chaos.”

“Is there no dessert?” Demeter asked with a pout.

“Not tonight, my dear.” Ptelea said sympathetically. “Eat your supper and off to bed, all of you. Gods know you should sleep while you can.”

“Ptelea, please-” Hestia complained, gesturing to Zeus. But their youngest brother was already helping himself to the food, blissfully unaware of the cook’s comment.

“Sorry, princess,” Ptelea turned back towards the door. “Just speaking the truth, is all.”

~

The sun set shortly after dinner.

Hades doubted he would be able to sleep knowing war was on the horizon, but he settled in to bed all the same. Hestia took one mattress, Demeter and Zeus on either side of her. The latter of the two had his head in her lap, curled up under a warm blanket. He and Hera took another mattress, his twin sister lying on her side facing away from the rest of them. Hades had undone the straps of his sword, and placed the weapon by his head where it would be easy to reach. The final mattress was Poseidon’s, who sprawled across it on his stomach, arms and legs outstretched.

“Is the war going to be noisy?” Demeter asked sleepily, slouched against Hestia’s side. Her eyes drooped the way they always did when she was tired.

“I do not know for sure.” Hestia murmured. “If it is loud, Hades will sing to drown it out.”

Hades stiffened, glaring daggers at his older sister who smirked back at him. “Or Hestia will play a harp.”

Hestia’s smirk faded. “We will make sure the noise is not too much, Demeter. But let’s not worry about that now… Just rest.”

Zeus did not need to be told twice. Their little brother was snoring in minutes, still curled up with his head on Hestia’s lap. Demeter followed shortly afterwards, her breathing growing slower and softer as the minutes passed by.

“Father’s going to win.” Poseidon said into the silence, face turned away from the rest of them. Hades could hear the tremble in his words, but Poseidon was clearly trying to be brave.

“Of course he is.” Hera said matter-of-factly, rolling over on her side of the mattress so she had a good view of the rest of them. “This will be over in a week, I’m certain.”

Hades sighed, leaning back against his pillow. It was going to be a long, sleepless night, he was certain. “Let us hope so.”

~

There was no noise to be heard from the battlefield. Wherever it was, it was far enough away from the palace to maintain a semblance of peace. A good thing, too, considering Zeus flinched at every bang outside the dining hall, every shouting voice that called for a healer or more weaponry. Hestia had taken on the full-time responsibility of soothing his fears, but it was wearing on her. That much was obvious to Hades.

He wanted to be with his father. Sitting in the dining hall with nothing to do and nowhere to go was the worst kind of torture. He should have been commanding an army. He should have been fighting. He should have been anywhere but here.

There were moments he was tempted to leave - to seek out what was happening in the palace. To find answers where none seemed prepared to give him any. But Hades knew that if he left, and anything happened to his siblings, Cronus would have his head. Metaphorically speaking, he hoped.

On the evening of the first night of battle, the main door burst open. In walked their mother, her expression grim, her usual pretty dresses swapped for a worn chiton with bronze armour over top. Hades had never seen his mother prepared for war, but she somehow looked more regal this way than she ever had before.

“Oh, my children.” Rhea sighed, opening her arms.

Zeus lunged forward, throwing himself into her arms for a fierce hug. He trembled in her grasp, and Rhea stroked his hair lovingly.

“Mother!” Demeter cried excitedly, squeezing in next to Zeus to share in Rhea’s embrace.

“What is happening?” Hera demanded, eyes wide and curious. Rhea glanced to her with a sad smile. 

“We have already made progress. Iapetus has a large force, larger than we anticipated, but your father commands his armies well.” Rhea admitted. If she was telling the truth and not a lie to spare their feelings, which would have been a first, then that was good news.

“Where has Iapetus found his manpower?” Poseidon asked.

Rhea glanced towards him briefly, before turning her attention back to Zeus. “I do not know. Have you all been eating? Has Ptelea watched over you?”

“Yes, mother.” Hades informed her. “How much longer must we stay here?”

“Until we can be certain no one will come for you.” Rhea answered sharply. “It is safer here, where the palace guard can watch over you, where you have an easy exit, where enemies would not think to look for you first.”

“I’m bored.” Zeus whispered, clinging to their mother’s skirts. “Can we go get our toys?”

Rhea sighed, and patted his cheek. “Hades will fetch something for you.”

Hades bit back an annoyed retort, and flashed his little brother a weak smile when Zeus, wide-eyed and excited, turned towards him. “Of course I will, Zeusie.”

“I must go now.” Rhea’s voice was rife with despair, her smile tight. “But I will be back to check on you all shortly, I promise.”

“Do you have to?” Demeter whimpered, her eyes shining with tears. “Father can win this war without you, can’t he?”

Rhea shook her head. “He needs me as much as he needs his soldiers, I’m afraid. I will be back before you know it, my heart.”

~

More news from the frontlines arrived with a bang.

Hades lounged in one of the dining chairs, staring wistfully out the window with his sword resting in his lap. On the bed, Hestia and Demeter had convinced Hera to let them braid her long locks, and they had created intricate paths of twisting hair down his twin sister’s back. Poseidon and Zeus hid under the dining table, playing with some sort of toy Poseidon had fished out of the kitchen, left there long ago by Zeus in his one of his escapades.

The door burst open, and in stumbled a young, red-headed river god with wide eyes. His armour was covered in dirt and grime, though Hades could detect no ichor. Immediately, he jumped to his feet and surged forward expectantly.

“What news?” Hades demanded. “Is it father? Has he been successful?”

The river-god shook his head. “I wish I could say that was true, my Prince.”

“Then what is it?” He asked. Hera had joined him at his side, shaking the braids out of her hair. Zeus and Poseidon peeked out from beneath the table, eyes wide.

“Prince Hades…” The young river-god murmured, bowing his head in respect. “Lord Perses has fallen to injury.”

“And?”

“Your father requests your immediate assistance replacing his leadership on the battlefield.”

Chapter Text

Observe them, Hera. Find the traitors among them.

Hera had not stopped searching during her many years in service to her father.

There was a prophecy, incomplete in its delivery. Hera’s aunt Phoebe had recited the prophecy long ago, long before she or her siblings had been born. Back in the early days of Cronus’ reign when he and Rhea were young and happy. But Phoebe could not predict when the next prophecy might spring forward, and neither could she remember the prophecies she had spouted once the speaking was done.

She had been alone when the prophecy began. It was only halfway through that the king had found her, hearing the dreadful words without their true context.

The only line Cronus had ever heard was simple. He who will overthrow the Scythe King. What came before was a mystery, and the thing that haunted her father most.

Someone was fated to overthrow him, for who else could the Scythe King be but Cronus? However, with only a fraction of the prophecy, who the traitor might be was unknown. 

And so, the king found enemies everywhere, hunted them down unwaveringly. When Hera was old enough, he had tasked her with hunting them for him. Listen, observe, report back. Sniff out treachery wherever it was to be found. She had brought forth rogue servants, plotting river-gods, those who would seek to steal from the royal family or cheat their way into a fortuitous marriage. But never had she found something so blatant as a coup attempt.

Cronus had kept this from her. He had known Iapetus was plotting something, and he had not made her aware. Hera could have done something, could have predicted this sooner if he had just let her know where his suspicions lie. Had it been a test? Had she failed?

As Hera lie awake on her mattress on the floor, listening to the sounds of her siblings’ slow breathing, it was not fear of the war that kept her awake. 

It was the fear that she had failed. That this war was her fault.

~

Zeus was inconsolable. If he had been afraid of the war before, without Hades there he had become a wreck. His cheeks were a constant shade of gold from crying, and he had practically refused to move from the bed since Hades’ departure. 

If Hera knew her twin, and she certainly did, then Hades had been overjoyed to leave, to be a part of the action. He did not have the responsibility of babying the rest of them any more, and he could prove himself in their father’s eyes. She envied him. She too wished she had been given a better job, could be part of the fighting or the scheming.

Instead, Poseidon and Demeter now turned to her when Hestia was preoccupied with Zeus, and she had half a mind to tell them to piss off where Hades would never.

She didn’t. But she certainly thought about it.

“If Perses can be injured, how is Hades going to be safe?” Demeter asked miserably.

“He knows what he is doing.” Poseidon murmured, trying to reassure her. He seemed just as perturbed, quieter than normal, his nervous energy so palpable Hera had to keep her distance. He kept drumming his fingers against the table, fidgeting with his long hair, tying it into knots.

“Stop worrying. Worrying will not keep anyone safe.” Hera huffed.

The guard around the dining hall had doubled. They did not enter, leaving the children alone in the hall. Hera suspected that the reason was to maintain a level of calm among them, some sort of last minute attempt by their mother to keep things feeling normal. But nothing was normal, and if Zeus’ waterworks were anything to make a judgment on, then calm had not been achieved.

She was tempted to leave, to wander the palace and see what information she could find. But she knew it would not be fair to Hestia to leave her with their younger siblings, afraid as they were. So she had resorted to establishing order in her own way. There was nothing gentle about her, nothing coddling. Her siblings would fall in line because she ordered them to, or they would cry about it.

Her declaration earned her the sound of sweet silence. Even Zeus had frozen in his spot next to Hestia, staring up at her with wide blue eyes. 

“What we should be focusing on,” Hera continued, glaring at the floor. “Is how we are going to help our family from this room.”

Hestia’s sigh was audible from where Hera sat, but if her sister had any reservations, she did not voice them aloud. Zeus perked up, rubbing at his gold-tinged nose. Poseidon and Demeter exchanged a look, frowning.

“How could we help them?” Poseidon asked finally. “No one will let us fight.”

“No one would want you to fight,” Hera retorted, and Poseidon scowled. “But we could do more than sit here. We could be sharpening weapons. We could be preparing meals for the soldiers. We could find who supports Iapetus and kill them ourselves.”

Demeter gulped. “I… will go to the kitchen if I have to.”

“Tell Ptelea you want to help, and do not take no for an answer.” Hera commanded. “Take Zeus with you.”

“Hera,” Hestia reprimanded, climbing from the bed while Zeus hurried towards Demeter, seemingly cheered up at the thought of being helpful. “It is not safe for us.”

“And you think the walls of this dining hall are enough to protect us?” Hera asked incredulously. “If we are going to be used as leverage against our father, I would rather it be done during an effort to assist him than sitting here like pathetic, helpless children.”

“You are children.” Hestia hissed, folding her arms across her chest. She had a piercing look, a mirror of their mother’s, but it was not enough to sway Hera. It felt good, calling the shots like this. It made her feel important.

“I know where I will go.” Hera said resolutely, glaring at the two who remained. “Poseidon, your efforts could be used with our smith. I’m sure you can find something to keep yourself occupied, sister.”

Then Hera turned heel and fled the dining hall, leaving a fuming sister and dumbfounded brother in her wake.

~

No one stopped her.

The palace halls were empty, save for the guards at their door, and the odd servant bustling back and forth to maintain the keep. It was eerie to see a place once so vibrant with life now reduced to cold stone and hallways that echoed when she walked.

One guard had asked if she wanted accompaniment, but Hera merely shook her head. He did not protest, a fact she found unusual.

The lack of bodies elsewhere in the keep meant her job would be more difficult, but not impossible. If there was information to be found, Hera would find it.

She hoped, at least.

She started in the barracks. That was where Tethys and Mnemosyne tended to the wounded. Young gods of the rivers, sea, and mountains lie on makeshift cots, sipping nectar while their healers cast spells to speed up their recovery.

She sat with her aunts for a while, asking questions. But they were occupied, and had little to say to her that she could not already surmise on her own.

Hera went next to the library, but found only a single old satyr reading scrolls between the shelves. When she approached him, he bleated and confessed he had been reading poetry. There was nothing more of use he could give to her.

She found Hekate, brewing a potion in the bowels of the castle. When Hera asked her what it was for, the goddess explained it was to provide the soldiers with courage of heart. Hera tried to pry, but learned nothing more. With a sigh, she gave up, and fled to the upper part of the keep.

She continued her search, but found little that could be of use. Strange behaviours could be easily chalked up to war nerves, and any answers she was given did not sound entirely out of the ordinary. Her digging was proving to be useless, and with it, her sense of purpose began to dwindle.

~

The next morning, a servant drew her out of her bed. Hera did not recognize the nymph, her plaited black hair and narrow face foreign to her. But the young goddess rose from her bed, tiptoeing down the hall after the woman. Suspicion rose inside of her, creeping but consuming. Hera wrapped a hand around the dagger at her hip, in case this woman tried to turn the situation sour.

The nymph led Hera into a small sitting area off the main hall, a place she never ventured often. What Hera knew was that the room was enclosed, and if this nymph meant to cause her harm, there would only be one way out.

Fear dissipated as she caught a glance into the room. Sitting on one of the chaises, looking weary and worn, but very much unharmed, was her father.

“Father!” Hera cried, lurching forward a few more steps to throw herself against his chest. His armour was hard, sturdy, and it banged painfully against her but she hardly minded.

Cronus raised a hand, cupping the back of her head in a fond embrace. When she pulled away, a tired smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, beneath his black beard. “How are you, my girl?”

Hera stepped back, smiling at him in return. “Me? I’m fine. How are you? How is it on the front line?”

Her father’s expression soured considerably, and Hera almost regretted asking. “We have the numbers, but Iapetus seems to be one step ahead of us at all times. He thwarts our strategy before we can fully implement it.”

Hera frowned. “So there is a traitor, then.”

Cronus nodded grimly. “I am afraid so. But I do not have the time or the resources to spare in finding who it is on my own. Not while Iapetus pushes against us so heavily.”

Hera straightened up, expression brightening. “Father, I’ve been trying to learn more for you while you’ve been gone.”

Cronus laughed, a tired little thing. “Of course you have. My clever daughter. What have you discovered?”

Hera hesitated, wobbling back and forth on her toes. “Not much, yet. There are not many people left in the palace to observe or interrogate. But if you brought me with you, I could be of more assistance!”

Cronus shook his head, shutting her down immediately. “No. I will not put you in more danger. What I can do is send the suspects to you.”

The suspects? So her father already had suspicions about who might be feeding information to Iapetus. “How will you manage that, father?”

“I have my ways. When they arrive in the palace, I need you to observe them. Question them, subtly. Learn what you can about their motives.” Cronus commanded, cupping Hera’s cheek with his palm. “I know you can do this, Hera.”

She had been preparing for this moment her entire life. All of her training, all of her years spent stalking the halls of Othrys had led to this. Hera straightened, pride shining on her face. She would not fail him.

“I will do everything I can to find this traitor for you, father.” Hera raised her head high.

“Good. Good.” Cronus breathed, nodding once. He gestured to the nymph still standing at the door, who bowed her head in acknowledgement. “When you learn the truth, send Delia back to me. She can be trusted.”

“Of course.” Hera replied. She hesitated for a moment, watching her father gather up his things. “Father… How is Hades?”

Cronus smiled, briefly, and it made his tired face look youthful again, if only for a moment. “He is doing very well. He is a fine soldier, and a better leader.”

“That’s good.” Hera’s heart soared with pride. Her brother was leading armies, as he always should have. And now she was acting as her father’s main source of intelligence, as she always should have. 

The pieces were falling into place. Hera could not deny that, despite the unfortunate circumstances, she was excited.

“Hurry, Hera.” Her father warned her, moving towards the exit. “The longer this takes, the longer the war will go on.”

Hera nodded solemnly. “Of course, father.”

He gave her one last once over. “Be safe, my girl.”

Then he disappeared in a flash of brilliant blue light, leaving her and Delia alone in the room.

~

Hera discovered many things over the course of three days, most of it entirely unhelpful.

She learned that Pallas had grown fond of one of the cthonic goddesses, the river Styx. He was sweet on her, and snuck off to send her secret messages - but they were entirely innocent in nature, if a bit disgusting to overhear.

She discovered that Oceanus had a sweet tooth. His visit to Othrys had been to coordinate more oil to be sent to the frontlines for traps, but he could not resist stopping in at the kitchens and eating whatever sweets he could find.

Coeus only pretended to be intelligent. He carried himself with an air of self-importance, promenading like he was the wisest of all the titans. But Hera heard the way he spoke to the nymphs, the way he faked his way through conversations about topics he was unfamiliar with. It seemed painfully obvious, now that she had overheard him at his weakest moments. But she heard not so much as a peep from him about treachery.

Helios was an airhead, but he did not seem like a traitor. Selene was sweet and quiet. Themis was too measured, Theia too docile, and despite her greatest efforts, Hera came up with nothing.

Questioning them gave her nothing. Observing gave her nothing. Eavesdropping gave her absolutely nothing.

It drove her mad.

But today, it was Hyperion her father had sent to her.

It meant she was able to see her mother who accompanied him, which Hera was grateful for. It also meant she had to witness how much of a pig her uncle was.

Hera greeted them at the palace doors, hugging her mother tightly before kissing her uncle on the cheek. He lingered close a little too long, ogling her in a way that made Hera feel nauseous. But she would not let him know he had made her uncomfortable. Every advantage Hera could leverage, she would.

“What are you doing here?” She asked them both. Hera knew the answer, but she smiled, spoke breathlessly, like she was excited and not searching.

“That is none of your business, girl.” Hyperion retorted, placing a hand on the small of Rhea’s back to guide her into the palace. Hera resisted the urge to sneer up at him in disgust.

“Oh, Hyperion, it’s alright.” Rhea said lightly, walking quickly. “She has missed her mother, that’s all. But we must meet in private, dear.”

Hera squinted, watching them go. “Will you come see the others before you go, mother?”

Rhea smiled over her shoulder. “If I can.”

Hyperion sighed, ushering Rhea up the stairs. “If there is time. We have important things to deal with, sweetheart.”

Hera swallowed down a gag, and watched them go. Hyperion had always made her uncomfortable, but she had never been able to place what it was about him until this moment. He was predatory. He did not care who saw, who heard him. He would fondle the queen of the titans, and he did not care at all for the consequences. He knew Cronus could not move against him, and he took advantage.

The truth made her sick.

As Rhea and Hyperion disappeared onto the second floor, Hera remained at the bottom of the steps. Arms folded across her chest, frowning, Hera tried to come up with a plan. How could she get the information she needed without drawing attention to herself? Could she eavesdrop on their conversation? Did she dare?

“My lady?”

Hera whirled around in surprise at the sudden voice, drawing her dagger. The poor nymph who had spoken jumped back in alarm, yelping in fear. “What do you want?”

“I-I have information, my lady.” She squeaked, eyes wide.

“Information?” Hera asked. She pondered it for a moment, before sliding her dagger back into its sheath. “What kind of information?”

The nymph deflated, letting out a relieved breath. “It’s not safe here, my lady. Can we speak in the kitchen?”

Hera’s brow rose skeptically, but she nodded once. The nymph flitted away from her, hurrying towards the kitchen, and Hera had to jog to keep up.

Once they were inside, the roar of the kitchen fire warming her skin, the nymph quickly shut the door. Hera wanted to brandish her knife once again, in case this was some act of treachery, some attempt to harm her. There was no one else in the kitchen but the two of them, and it would be all too easy to hurt her.

But the nymph did not attack. Instead, she leaned against the center table, head bowed, twitching nervously. “I overheard a conversation, my lady.”

Hera bit her lip. “What kind of conversation?”

“I went to deliver meals to the soldiers, see-” The nymph continued, green eyes darting back and forth, searching for eavesdroppers. “But as I was leaving, I took the long route. More scenic, and it took me past the grove where I grew up.”

“Get to the point.”

“I overheard two people talking. I could not see their faces, but I did hear enough of the conversation. The main one was describing some sort of plan to send decoy soldiers out onto the field.”

Hera’s stomach sank, eyes going wide. “And?”

The nymph whimpered. “Well, I didn’t think much of it. But as I was lying awake last night, I realized how peculiar it all was. They were so secretive. And I knew I recognized the one voice, I just couldn’t place from where. He told the other man to be discreet, that no one could know it was him who told.”

It sounded like a secret meeting between a traitor and the enemy.

“Where is it from?” Hera demanded. “The voice, where had you heard it before?”

The nymph swallowed harshly. “I realized it was the same voice who had always made horrible comments about me and the other girls. He said he would like to take me somewhere private and learn what else my hands were capable of besides cooking.”

Hera’s heart beat like thunder in her chest. “Who?”

“Lord Hyperion, my lady.”

Ichor rushed in her ears. Hyperion was the one who had been selling secrets to Iapetus. He had found soldiers for the enemy, had fed him all their king’s strategies. He had pretended to be a friend, had lied, had manipulated all of them.

And he was upstairs. Alone. With the Queen of the Titans.

Chapter Text

Poseidon was trouble, and he knew it.

He did not understand why he was so prone to wreaking havoc. He did not mean to… but many afternoons were spent being lectured by his mother. Or his father. Or Hades, or Hestia, or aunt Theia or aunt Mnemosyne, or Ptelea.

He broke things all the time. He spoke his mind and faced the consequences. He could not contain his anger, scrapping with his cousins in the courtyard until his knuckles shone gold and their mothers dragged them in by the ears. If there was a mistake to be made, rest assured that Poseidon would make it.

Father looked at him differently. Before Hades became the true prince of their family, that responsibility rested on Poseidon’s shoulders. He had been so young, and already he could see the disappointment on his father’s face. He would be no wise prince, no great leader. He was a failure. He was emotional and unpredictable and could not sit still long enough in lessons to learn what mattered.

Poseidon had been made to feel like a burden his entire life, the one who would lead Othrys to ruin. Hades had done them all a favour.

Poseidon wished he felt good about that change.

~

Shouting echoed from the rest of the palace. Hestia rose from her seat in alarm, throwing Demeter behind her. Poseidon dropped the carved toy soldier in his hands, letting it clatter against the tiles. Zeus froze beside him, blue eyes wide and terrified.

“What was that?” Demeter breathed. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know.” Hestia whispered. She met Poseidon’s eyes, worry brimming in them. He swallowed harshly, trying to still his rapid beating heart. If Zeus saw him afraid, the fallout would be tremendous. 

A shrill scream ripped through the palace, amplified by the reflective nature of the stone. Zeus shuddered. Poseidon placed a hand on the hilt of his knife at his waist.

The door burst open with a bang. Poseidon drew his knife in a last ditch attempt to defend his family, but it was not necessary. Hera raced into the room, shutting the doors behind her. She dragged a chair over and placed it under the handle, her eyes wide, her hair disheveled, her chest heaving with breaths.

“We have to go.” Hera hissed, whirling to face her family. “It’s Hyperion, he’s here and he’s let the enemy into the palace.”

“What?” Poseidon asked incredulously. Hera glared at him, and he rescinded the question, tugging Zeus up to his feet. His little brother had gone pale, eyes welling with tears.

“Where do we go?” Demeter cried, but Hera ignored her. She blew past all of them, throwing open the other door which connected to the kitchen.

“Delia!” She cried. A moment later, a terrified looking nymph appeared at the door, breathless and shaking. “Delia, you must get to my father. You must tell him it is Hyperion. You must tell him we are not safe here and we are fleeing the palace.”

Then Hera whirled back around to face her family, trying hard to remain brave for them. Poseidon could see it scrawled across her face. “Come on. All of you, onto the terrace. We have to make a run for father’s camp while we have a chance.”

Poseidon turned to his brother, urging him forward. Tears streamed down Zeus’ face. His breath came in sharp gasps, too fast to be normal. A sob burst from his lips, and he trembled violently.

“Zeus, we don’t have time for this, we have to go .” Hera hissed.

Poseidon swooped forward, plucking Zeus up into his arms. He was heavy, and did not fit against his side like he used to, but there was no time for complaining. Zeus wept against his shoulder, fists punching hard against him in protest, but Poseidon pressed forward. The rest of his siblings followed Hera out the side entrance, into the garden, where a path curved down the side of the mountain. They took off at a run, ripping across the stone as quickly as they could muster. Hestia held Demeter’s hand, guiding her forward. Sweat beaded on Poseidon’s brow with the exertion of keeping Zeus aloft.

Hera guided them steadfastly, ignoring the shouts of servants who had not yet caught wind of what happened in the palace.

Poseidon did not understand. How had Hyperion gotten this far? How had no one detected this sooner? What were his plans? Every question whirred through his head, buzzing like insects, driving him mad. But there was no time to ask, no time to do anything but keep moving forward. If Hera was right, and Hyperion had let enemies into the palace, it seemed only logical they would come for the children of Cronus.

The path turned from stone to dirt a little ways down the mountain. Then, no more than a goat path. It took time to traverse the hillside, even more with Zeus in his arms, but the younger had yet to stop crying. Poseidon wanted to shake him, to curse him for being so timid and afraid, but every breath he had was spent on keeping them moving forward.

They ran, and ran, and ran. The mountain towered above them as they reached the bottom, running into dense forests. Somewhere towards the sea, their father met in battle with Iapetus while an enemy ransacked their palace. Poseidon could see smoke on the horizon, and knew well enough what that meant.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably. This was not meant to last, it was not meant to turn so sour.

Poseidon stumbled on a rock, and let out a loud curse, huffing and puffing in agitation. He all but threw Zeus from his arms, the younger of the two landing ungracefully in the dirt.

“Poseidon, we have to keep going!” Hestia cried.

“I’m not carrying him any more.” Poseidon retorted, rubbing his sore shoulder. “How do we even know we’re being followed? Who was screaming? I want to know what is happening! ”

Hera whirled around to face him, scowling. “Why wouldn’t they? Do you know what power Iapetus and Hyperion could hold over our father if they had even one of us in their possession? That scream you heard was our mother . You want to know what is happening? Use your brain for once in your life, Poseidon! We are at war, there are traitors everywhere, and the only people any of us can trust now are each other.”

“That was mother? ” Zeus whispered, eyes wide.

Hera’s gaze snapped to him, agitated. “Yes. Hyperion met with her. I heard her scream before I could reach them and I… I came to find the rest of you instead.”

Anger exploded inside of Poseidon’s chest. He could not have pinpointed it if he tried, unsure of whom it was that angered him so much. Iapetus for launching this war? Hyperion for betraying them? Their father for leaving them in the palace? Their mother for allowing herself to be caught by a traitor? Hera for yelling, Zeus for crying, himself for being so bloody useless?

He wanted to scream, but Poseidon never got the chance.

A bright flash of white erupted behind Hera, and she whirled in alarm. It was too late. Their cousin Menoetius appeared from the light, grinning wild and savagely. He batted her to the side with the broad end of his sword, and she flew against a tree with a loud thump. She crumpled, groaning.

Demeter screamed. Hestia threw Demeter and Zeus behind her. She braced herself for impact, but it never came.

A scythe caught Menoetius’ blade on the down swing. Their father, in his brilliant armour, stepped between his nephew and children, knocking the blade away. He was furious - more furious than Poseidon had ever seen him. Menoetius stumbled back a step in surprise. Perhaps he had not anticipated to face the king of the titans in one-on-one combat.

Poseidon stepped forward, drawing his knife to assist. But a hand on his shoulder stilled his actions, and as he twisted to see who had grabbed him, familiar dark eyes met his own.

“We have to go.” Hades commanded. “Poseidon, help me get Hera up. We do not have time!”

“Where did you come from?” Poseidon asked in amazement, but Hades did not answer. He rushed to Hera’s side, helping her to her feet. She seemed dazed, a little banged up, but ultimately whole and unharmed.

Menoetius charged. Cronus raised his scythe and met his blade. They danced in a skilled formation, battling one another. The sound was violent, metal against metal, the grunting of two titans accompanying each clang. Their father was battling him backwards, away from his children, and Poseidon knew this was only to buy them both time.

Menoetius was known for being a vicious fighter. Would his father be able to win?

“Go now, Hades.” Cronus commanded, pressing his nephew back with a forceful kick. His gaze never wavered from Menoetius, who sneered up at his uncle with malice. “Take them. You know what to do.”

“Yes, father.” Hades replied. There was no shake in his voice, no worry. He had grown confident on the battlefield.

Poseidon rushed to his side, throwing Hera’s arm over his shoulder. Together, they hurried away from the scene, the other three of their siblings in tow. Zeus had even stopped crying, rushing after them stone-faced and tight-lipped.

“Where are we going?” Hera groaned.

“To Gaia.” Hades replied in a whisper. “She will protect us.”

~

The clearing was small, but beautiful.

As the six of them raced through the forest, Poseidon had known only fear. Fear for their father and for their mother, whose fate still hung in the balance. The longer Poseidon thought about their parents, the more his stomach churned. They should not have been fleeing. They should have been fighting with him, helping to take their home back.

But they were not.

Poseidon could feel the change in the atmosphere around him the moment they crested the trees and stepped into Gaia’s glade. The plants were more luscious, the grass greener. The air smelled crisp, and the breeze that blew through the trees was the perfect temperature. In the center of the clearing was a single tent, its poles made of the surrounding lumber, wrapped in animal skin and furs for warmth. The sun was beginning to set, and a fire sprang to life of its own accord outside the tent.

There was no sign of Gaia, but Poseidon knew she was watching them. He could feel it.

Hera crumpled beneath them, sinking to her knees to catch her breath. Instead of helping her, Hades stepped away, running his hands through dark locks. 

“I am alright.” Hera said breathlessly, smacking away Poseidon’s offer of assistance. “I just need a moment.”

“Is this where we were meant to be?” Hestia asked nervously, warm brown eyes scanning the surrounding foliage. 

“Yes.” Hades murmured. “No one can find us here, unless Gaia wills it. She has extended her protection to us.”

Hera climbed to her feet, looking considerably less dazed. She brushed herself off, glancing towards Hades. “What happened on the battlefield?”

“I don’t know.” Hades muttered, pacing back and forth across the dirt in the clearing. The confidence he had shown in the presence of their father was gone.

“Did father win?” Poseidon added, stomach dropping. “He had to have won, right?”

“Where is grandmother?” Demeter asked. “Why isn’t she here to help us?”

“What happened to mother?” Zeus’ eyes brimmed with tears. “Is she coming?”

“I don’t know!” Hades cried. His fingers were wound in his hair, shoulders tense. “We were preparing for another attack when that nymph arrived. She said Hyperion had infiltrated the palace. I do not know what became of the rest of the army, or father, or mother . I don’t know anything! Stop asking me questions!”

Silence followed Hades’ outburst. Even Zeus had stopped sniffling, staring wide-eyed up at their brother. Poseidon locked eyes with Hestia. Her head cocked towards the others, then towards the other end of the clearing. He understood well enough, taking Zeus’ hand in his own.

He led the others away from Hades, who stood shaking and angry, straight towards the fur-lined tent. Pushing open the flap, Poseidon ushered the others in. Even Hera had followed, leaving Hestia and Hades alone in the clearing.

“We ran very far.” Hera said quietly, turning towards the youngest of them. “You two must be very tired. Why don’t you try and get some rest?”

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to sleep right now .” Demeter muttered. A sharp look from Hera shut her mouth, though, and she sank onto one of the small cots with a sigh. Zeus glanced between Poseidon and Hera, frowning. Then he hurried to a second cot and curled up with his head on the pillow. His eyes closed, but it was clear from his tense posture that he was not going to sleep any time soon.

“What do we do now?” Poseidon asked in a whisper. Was Menoetius his fault? Had their father been forced into combat with a powerful enemy because he had lost control? Because he had gotten angry? Guilt twisted his stomach. He wanted Hera to tell him it was alright, that this was not his fault, that nothing could have been changed.

“We wait here for someone to tell us what to do.” Hera replied tightly. Poseidon knew her well. Waiting patiently was not her strong suit, and nor was it his. “If Iapetus gets his hands on any one of us, he has too much power. He… Probably already has our mother.”

“Is he hoping father will surrender?” The thought was horrifying. Their father had ruled for decades. If he surrendered, what would become of their people? What would life look like for them? They very well might have been fugitives for the rest of their lives.

No. Cronus could not surrender, and Poseidon had the sickening feeling that he would not. Not even for their mother.

Hera ran a hand over her face. “I do not know. I wish we could help him, but we cannot. The best we can do is keep ourselves out of Iapetus and Hyperion’s grasp.”

Poseidon nodded slowly. “Hera, I- I’m sorry I stopped. I shouldn’t have-”

“Stop.” Hera interrupted. “There are a lot of things I wish I had done today. We cannot dwell on that any more. We focus on moving forward.”

“And father is going to save us, right?” Zeus whispered from his cot, peering up at the both of them with tired blue eyes.

“Yes, Zeusie.” Hera sighed. “Exactly.”

Chapter Text

Demeter liked the glen.

She was not stupid. She could see well enough that the others were miserable there. 

Hera did not sleep, choosing instead to keep watch. Hades had told her it was not necessary, that grandmother Gaia would protect them, but it did not stop her. If Demeter had to guess, she was too afraid to sleep and needed a good excuse.

Hestia was quieter than normal, trying hard to keep her smile brave for all of them. But Demeter could see how tired she was, the gold bags beneath her eyes telling enough. Hades often paced, too restless to stay sitting for long. He barked orders at them to fetch water or firewood, like he was still commanding an army.

Poseidon was angry. That would not have been surprising, were it not for her brother’s sudden interest in learning the sword. Really learning the sword. He made Hades teach him, which Demeter was happy about. Sometimes she was allowed to join in. Either way, the sparring was entertainment, something they were sorely lacking in the glen.

Zeus hardly spoke. Demeter never thought she might wish for the day that Zeus would continue his rambling, but it had come. She missed his voice, his curious questions, his giggling and yes, even his tears. Now, he seemed like a statue. Silent and stiff. He used to follow his brothers around, and now he hardly left the tent.

The glen was small, and they did not have far to go. The more days that passed, the more tensions began to rise. Hera yelled more, Hestia flinched more, Hades glowered more, and Poseidon cursed more.

But Demeter liked the glen. She found the trees impressive, the sky beautiful, the ground comforting. She liked the smell of wildflowers and the feel of dirt between her toes. 

Father had always said she was gentle, a delicate flower to be nurtured and protected. She was not allowed to fight or attend court. She was not to lift a finger at all until she was old enough, to spare her innocence and gentle nature.

But mother had always said she was like the earth. Strong, and grounded, and powerful. Demeter liked that comparison a lot better.

And the longer she spent with the earth, the more sure she felt that mother was right. She wanted to be strong like the earth. Strong was the only way they could be, if they were going to survive this war. And so, when Hades did finally let her pick up the sword, Demeter was ferocious. She learned quickly.

She channeled her rage and her fear into becoming strong, and hoped that wherever their mother was now - that she was proud.

~

“How long do we have to stay here?” Poseidon asked.

The six of them sat around the fire. Only a few moments earlier, a platter of ambrosia and delicious fruits had appeared beside Hestia, a gift from their grandmother. They ate around the flames, the sun disappearing on the horizon. As night came for the twelfth time, Demeter was left with an eerie feeling in her chest. Like they were being watched.

She suspected that they were, in a way. Gaia peered down upon them, watching them through the trees. Why she did not approach them was beyond Demeter, but it was nice knowing someone was caring for them.

Hades poked the fire with a stick, having hardly touched his meal. “I do not know. Until the war is won and father is able to come to collect us, I suppose.”

“But how long until that happens?” Poseidon muttered. Hera tossed him a sharp glance, and her older brother scowled, but went silent.

“Everything will work out the way it is supposed to.” Hestia reassured them. Her smile was kind, but she did not sound very sure of herself. Demeter took a bite of fig and turned her gaze to the dirt.

“Maybe what we need is a story.” Hera suggested. It sounded unusual, coming from her mouth. Perhaps the seclusion and boredom was getting to her, and she had suddenly changed her entire perspective on life and stories. Or perhaps, she was just trying to make everyone feel better.

Zeus perked up a little at that suggestion, glancing up from where he made a mushy mess of his fruit on a platter. Demeter leaned forward excitedly.

“Who shall tell it?” Hestia asked.

“I will.” Hera replied. “So listen closely.”

Hades made a strange sound in his throat, that sounded almost like a laugh. Hera glared at him, climbing from her seat on a log to set the scene. She paced around the fire a few times, silent and staring intently at the flames. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper.

“Long ago, there were two lovers.” She said slowly. “The sky and the earth. Every night, the sky would come down to kiss his love and make children with her.”

Poseidon groaned. “We already know this story!”

Hera whirled towards him, scowling. “Shush. You have not heard the way I tell it.”

Poseidon sealed his lips, and gestured for her to continue.

“The truth was, earth did not love sky very much. She withstood his advances because she knew the world needed creatures to populate it. She was lonely, see, and wanted children of her own. So she allowed him to come.”

The sun disappeared, casting their glen in shadow. The fire flickered. Hera continued. “She had children with sky. Beautiful creatures she adored with all her heart. But sky thought they were hideous, not good enough to be worthy of his might, and so he carved a hole in earth and locked them away for eternity. Earth was heartbroken. She wept for her children, the ones with a hundred hands or one eye. The giants who cried back to her from below. But sky would not let her set them free. Instead, he would try again.”

Demeter glanced sideways at Zeus, who sat now on the edge of his seat. 

“Sky came back to her, again and again, and ignored her pain. He came back until she gave him twelve great and powerful children. Titans, he called them. They were glorious.”

“But earth had a plan, didn’t she?” Hestia added, smiling lightly. “A great plan.”

Hera nodded. “She rejoiced in the birth of her children, but she knew her torment would not end. So she devised a plan in secret. She went to her sons, and asked which of them was bravest enough to defy their father. The oldest five shook their heads. But it was the youngest who stepped forward. He was not the biggest or the strongest, but he was the cleverest. Earth gave him a scythe, and told him to cut off the appendage that had tormented her for so many long years.”

“With the help of his brothers, the youngest went to his father and coaxed him back down to earth. When he arrived, four of the other five held their father down while the youngest castrated him. No longer would he torment their mother. Sky wailed and fled back up to his domain, never to return down to earth. As thanks for his actions, earth made her youngest son the ruler of her lands, and offered him up a beautiful wife.”

Hera raised a finger before anyone could interrupt her, smirking. “Now, I know what you must be thinking… What happened to those other children of earth and sky? No one knows for certain. Sky buried them so deep, some say they may never escape. Others claim the creatures walk among us, cloaked to hide their ugliness.”

Hera paused for dramatic effect. The fire crackled menacingly. “Some say the creatures are angry. That they stalk the woods, looking for innocent prey to enact their vengeance upon. Horrible monsters with gnashing teeth, too many faces, and long claws sharp enough to rip godly flesh from bone.”

“Hera!” Hestia chastised, shaking her head. “Do not scare them.”

But Demeter did not feel scared. She felt sorry for those poor creatures. She could not fathom what it would be like to spend so long in darkness, locked away from the rest of the world by their own father. She would be angry too. She would want vengeance.

Zeus did not look scared either. Instead, he spoke in a quiet voice, eyes shining. “Are those creatures in these woods?”

Hera’s smirk only grew. “It is possible. They would stay close to their mother. Perhaps they are watching us right now.”

Zeus frowned. “Maybe they could help us. Maybe we could convince them to fight a new enemy.”

Silence followed his suggestion. Demeter noted the way Hades and Hestia locked eyes, some sort of silent understanding between them. Then rather abruptly, Hestia hopped from her seat and gestured towards the tent. “That is quite enough for one night. All of you to bed, now.”

~

“I am so bored.” Poseidon complained, sinking onto the grass beside Demeter who weaved a crown of wildflowers together with a simple wave of her hand.

She raised a brow. “Ask Hades to train with you.”

“He’s busy talking to Hera and Hestia. Important business, he says. Not for our ears.” Poseidon scowled, ripping a few strands of grass from the ground. Demeter scowled and batted his hands away. She could almost feel the poor things’ pain.

“We should be allowed to hear.” Demeter replied. It seemed only fair. They were in hiding. War had raged around them. Demeter had seen enough in those last few days to feel certain that nothing her older siblings might say could shock her now. She was almost thirteen years on this earth, and she hardly felt like a child.

Poseidon nodded. “I think they’re trying to spare us, and that’s really silly.”

Demeter sighed. Poseidon was probably right, but that did not mean she was happy about it. She waved her fingers so the last few strands of her flowers wove together. Satisfied with her creation, she beamed and swiveled in the dirt. “Zeus! Come here!”

Their little brother sat by the fire, drawing abstract pictures with charcoal on a rock. At the sound of his name, Zeus glanced up, blue eyes wide. He scurried over, sinking to his knees in the grass before her.

“I made you something!” Demeter said excitedly, placing the crown on his head. Zeus’ mouth quirked with a smile, and he reached up to touch at the soft petals. It was not much, but it was more than she had seen from him in days, and it had to count for something. “Do you like it?”

“It’s pretty.” Zeus said softly, nodding.

“Are you bored too, Zeusie?” Poseidon asked, and already, Demeter did not like the mischief in his tone.

Zeus said nothing, only shrugged.

“Well, I’m bored.” Poseidon did not miss a beat, stretching his legs out before him. “I think we should do a little exploring.”

“We aren’t supposed to leave.” Zeus replied, brows furrowing. “Hades said.”

“Yes, but Hades is busy. And we wouldn’t leave… We’re just going to explore the trees a little. We can see if there are any animals or new flowers. You like flowers, Dem!”

Demeter scrunched up her nose, arms folding across her chest. “There are flowers here.”

Poseidon’s expression faltered quickly. “Zeus? Come on… We could look for frogs, like we used to!”

That perked Zeus up a little. His lips pursed like he was debating internally. “... Really?”

“Really!” Poseidon insisted. “And we won’t even go far. We can look for frogs, and Demeter can gather more flowers. We will be back before Hades or Hestia even notice.”

It would be nice to stretch her legs a little… And see what else Gaia’s glen had to offer.

“Alright, let’s go.” Demeter climbed from the grass, brushing herself off. She held a hand out to Zeus and hoisted him up. Poseidon jumped up excitedly, and pointed to a spot across the clearing. “I saw something pretty over there. Come!”

He hurried into the woods. Demeter and Zeus exchanged a short glance, her brother bobbing his head once. Then they took off at a jog after their brother, escaping the heat of the sun for the coolness of the trees. They towered overhead like the walls of their palace, but the sun glimmered through the leaves and cast pretty shadows in the underbrush. There was enough room to walk without getting snagged on the branches, and strange bushes and pretty flowers poked their head out towards the light.

Zeus caught up to Poseidon. “Look! There’s a log. I think there might be frogs under there.”

“Good eye, Zeusie.” Poseidon crouched next to their subject, heaving the log up and out of the way. Zeus sank to his knees in the dirt, squinting at the muddy mess of moss and stone hidden beneath the wayward log. 

He squealed in excitement, lunging forward to snatch up a small, bulging eyed frog from the mud. He held the creature in his hands, which wriggled a few times before going still, peering curiously up at Zeus.

“I caught one already!” Zeus said excitedly, showing his frog off to Demeter. She grinned, and stroked a finger along the top of the frog’s head.

“You are going to let it go, right?” Demeter asked, giving her brother a pointed stare. He nodded fiercely, and released the creature back to the mud. It hopped away, unperturbed.

“Look, Dem. Those flowers are orange. There are no orange ones in the clearing. You should make a crown for Hestia with those.” Poseidon instructed.

Her gaze drifted to the left, spotting the flowers he spoke of. They were strange things, a kind of flower she had never seen before. Perhaps they were a creation of Gaia, specifically for her special places. Or perhaps they did not like the mountainside of Othrys.

She hurried through the trees, whispering a quick thank you to the flowers before plucking them up. Hestia really would love the colour.

She wandered through the brush, collecting pretty flowers. Behind her, Zeus and Poseidon overturned stones and peered into the cracks in tree roots, searching for more creatures. They found a lizard, and big beetles, and another frog larger than the last. Their excited shrieking told her everything she needed to know.

A beautiful purple flower poked from between two rocks, solitary and proud. Demeter fell to her knees in awe, eyes wide. How many flowers grew in this forest that she had never seen before? She almost did not want to pluck it, for fear of ending something so remarkable.

“Poseidon, look! Have you ever seen something like this before?” Demeter called to him, gesturing excitedly to the flower.

He climbed from where he knelt in the mud, joining her to admire her beautiful discovery. “No, I do not think so… Does it smell nice?”

Zeus had cried out in surprise, lunging forward. A small lizard escaped his grasp, scurrying through the underbrush. Zeus made haste to follow after it, scrambling across the forest floor in his desperation to catch it.

“Not too far!” Poseidon warned. “This flower… Now that I look at it, I think I have seen it before. I cannot remember where.”

“Really?” Demeter asked excitedly. If she could pinpoint where else it might grow, she could make an entire bouquet of them. “Think, Poseidon! Where?”

His brows furrowed in thought, like sifting through his memories was tough work. Demeter made up her mind, reaching down to pluck the flower from its hiding place. Then delight split Poseidon’s features, speaking so loudly and abruptly it startled her. “Oh, yes! Aunt Theia wears them all the time.”

Demeter frowned. “... Aunt Theia? But if they grow here, how does Aunt Theia find them?”

“Perhaps Hyperion finds them for her in his journeys.” Poseidon suggested. 

She glanced down at her flower. She remembered the story of how her aunt and uncle had fallen in love, back before he had ever betrayed their father. He had tried for a long time to woo her, but nothing had worked.

He finally resorted to planting thousands of flowers for her, in hopes that she would pluck even one. When she did, he appeared to her and confessed his love, and claimed that if she wanted to keep the flower, she had to give him a kiss.

It seemed like a strange way of wooing someone, but what did Demeter know about love? If plucking a flower was all it took to…

Her thoughts trailed off. Fear struck her like an arrow, the same moment Poseidon’s face turned to horror. Demeter did not realize just how far they had wandered until this very moment.

A bright light erupted through the trees. Poseidon gasped, whirling in the dirt, not towards the source of light but towards their little brother. Zeus was yards away, out of his reach, still trying to capture his lizard. It was Hyperion who appeared between the trees, Hyperion who sneered as he materialized. Hyperion who now separated them from Zeus.

Demeter screamed. Zeus turned to face them, his expression a mask of sheer terror. Hyperion lunged for him and grabbed him by the arm before Demeter could even climb to her feet.

“Zeus!” Poseidon cried.

Their brother opened his mouth to scream, to call out, but no sound came. Hyperion hoisted their little brother into the air by the arm, feet dangling over the underbrush. He made a step towards them, his next set of prey, but an invisible force cemented his feet to the earth. He could not move. His face twisted in rage. Demeter could hardly believe her eyes.

“Mother, you wretched woman.” Hyperion hissed.

Poseidon jumped toward him. Hyperion cursed and disappeared into light before Poseidon made contact, and he tumbled painfully into the dirt. As the light dimmed, there was no one left standing in its wake. Not Hyperion. Not Zeus.

“No!” Poseidon’s scream echoed against the trees. A flock of birds took flight from the upper branches, violently startling her.

Demeter’s eyes welled with tears. What had they done? What had they done?

Through her tears, a flash of colour caught Demeter’s attention. On the forest floor, crumpled and coming apart, was the flower crown she had made for Zeus.

Chapter Text

Zeus did not stop kicking and screaming until the latch on his cell clicked shut.

Hyperion’s grip was unrelenting. He squeezed so hard it hurt, bruising Zeus’ skin. Tears welled in his eyes, but Zeus could not tell if they came from the pain or from fear. He did not understand what had happened nor why Hyperion had found them, only that the situation was bad. Hyperion was the enemy. Zeus had heard screaming in the palace. The connection between those two facts was simple.

If Hyperion wanted to hurt him, he could, and Zeus would be unable to stop it.

The two of them appeared in a dark and foreboding keep. It was small and lacked any grandeur. Zeus had seen Hyperion’s palace once before, and this certainly was not it.

His heart thundered violently in his chest. Ichor roared in his ears. He lashed out at Hyperion with his feet, kicking so violently they clanged against his uncle’s armour. Nothing stopped the titan in his path. He carried Zeus off through the streets of the fortress, down a gloomy set of stairs, and into a dank room with a single window and a set of cells. Six of them, Zeus counted.

He screamed for help, at the few soldiers they passed on the way, but none of them came to his rescue. Zeus did not know why he thought they would. He was stupid, a stupid little boy who did not know a thing. No one was going to help him.

Hyperion threw him unceremoniously into one of the cells. Zeus hit the floor with a thud, pain shooting up his arm where it landed at a funny angle. He lunged back towards the opening, but Hyperion slammed it shut before Zeus could reach it. The bars clanged before his face, and Hyperion clicked the lock into place. Zeus tried to reach his hands through the bars, but an invisible forcefield sent him careening backwards.

Zeus whimpered, and scrambled back into a sitting position. “What do you want with me?”

Hyperion grinned from the other side of the bars. “Nothing you have not already given me, nephew.”

Hyperion disappeared into a flash of light, and Zeus was left alone in the cell.

That was when the strange sensation started. It felt like someone had poured ice water into his veins, his body drenched in a cold sweat. He could not catch his breath, each one coming sharper than the last. Zeus gripped the sides of his head, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, and he tried desperately to regain control of his body. But it was like he was possessed, something else wrenching the air from his lungs, restricting his throat. He trembled and cried, and could not stop.

This was not like his usual fits of tears. Something was very, very wrong with him. Had Hyperion cast a spell? Had Zeus been poisoned?

He curled into a ball on the floor, weeping into his hands, shuddering as ragged breaths ripped from his body. The cold of stone beneath him seeped into his body, chilling him to the bone. Each gasping sob echoed against the walls, reverberating back inside his skull.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to be back with his brothers and sisters, even if it meant being stuck in the glen. He wanted his mother, or even his father.

He was scared. He was oh-so scared.

What was Hyperion going to do?

~

By the time night came, Zeus had managed to gain control of his body again. Tears still stung his eyes, but he had refused to let any more fall. What good would crying do in getting him out of that cell?

But as the dark of night crept into the cell, Zeus learned quickly that not even the light of the moon could touch this place through the single window across the room. Pitch blackness enveloped him, so deep and dark that Zeus could not see his hand in front of his face.

He had always been afraid of the dark. How many times had he slipped from his bed when the night felt too suffocating, and crawled into bed with Hestia or Hades? How many times had they held him through the night, soothing his worst fears?

Hades and Hestia had always been more like a mother and father to him than his own parents. His mother tried, but she was always distracted by something else; her duties as queen, Poseidon or Demeter. His father seemed to want nothing to do with him, shooing him away the few times Zeus had tried to come to their bed.

His siblings had raised him. It was their memory now that got him through the night, that coaxed him into a rare sense of calm. Zeus pictured their faces. Hestia’s kind smile, Hades and Hera’s matching stern eyes, Poseidon’s wicked grin, and Demeter’s wild curls that framed a happy face. He whispered their names on his lips.

Zeus would be reunited with them again. He knew it. He had to be.

~

Zeus did not realize he had fallen asleep until a rogue ray of sunshine peeked through the window and shone directly in his eye.

He shot upright, heart thudding violently in his chest. Peering around the cell, Zeus detected nothing out of the ordinary. He pressed his back against the cell wall and took a few breaths to calm himself. No more tears, Zeus.

What would Hades have done? There had to be a way out of this cell, out of this situation. But he could not fight, and he was not smart like Hades, and he had no way of knowing what was waiting for him on the other side of the jail door.

Not to mention, there was this strange barrier to contend with. Zeus wondered if it prevented the person inside from using magic. That would be the smart thing to do, he decided.

Which did not bode well for him.

Upon further inspection, Zeus could see the lines where this strange magic met the bars, wavering slightly like heat from a fire. Zeus attempted to touch it once more, but a violent shock went up his arm and sent it flying backwards. No, if he was going to get out of the bars, he needed someone to open them for him.

Zeus also discovered that the jail was not very soundproof.

By midday - or at least, what Zeus assumed was midday judging by how long he had been sitting in his cell, he heard voices for the first time. For a moment, Zeus had expected someone to open the door to the jail, but realized after a few more seconds of tense listening that the voices did not come from the hallway. They came from above him, a man and a woman’s voice together.

Zeus strained his ears, trying to listen. The voices must have been trickling in through the open window, from whatever room sat above his cell.

It took a moment to make sense of what he heard.

“...and what happens if we lose?” The woman’s voice said. It sounded vaguely familiar, but from so far away, it was hard for Zeus to tell who it was. “He is just a boy. This will not be forgiven.”

“Cronus does not know where we are, only now that the boy is missing. He will have to expend many resources to track his son down, resources he does not have.”

Hyperion. He was arguing with someone…

“And if he does find us? What then? He will throw you into Tartarus for this.”

“To find us he will lose this war. He will surrender to save his child, or the child will be lost. Either way, we have Cronus in a corner.”

“And after what you did to Rhea? She is still recovering, from what I hear.”

“We let her go for a reason. As a warning, not a punishment. He understands this.”

“I hope you are right, husband.”

Aunt Theia.

The talking stopped, leaving Zeus alone in a quiet cell, cold despite how hot the sun surely must have been above. Hyperion was using him as bait, as leverage against his father. Zeus’ only relief was knowing that his mother was recovering, that Hyperion did not have her too.

Zeus could have laughed. For a moment, the sensation bubbled in his chest, and he had to swallow it back down. Cronus would never surrender this war, not for him. Not for his youngest son, the burden, the weak little boy who could never lead armies or sweet talk allies. Cronus had said those very words himself. Zeus had overheard him, talking to his mother late one night. Zeus was weak, and he was not worthy of his title as prince.

Hyperion had miscalculated. Zeus would rot in this cell if it ensured Cronus a victory.

~

Zeus dozed for the better part of the afternoon. There was little else to do, and if he sat alone with his thoughts for too long, he felt that ice water swelling in his veins again. So he slept. He counted the number of bars in each of the cells, over and over again. He picked at his fingernails and told stories in his mind.

The door to the jail creaked open, and Zeus sat up in alarm. A moment later, his aunt Theia stepped into the room holding a platter in her hands. There was bread, a silver cup, and a fig sitting on the platter. Hardly the meal of kings, but Zeus did not realize how hungry he was until he saw the food.

“Hello, nephew.” Theia said quietly. She set the platter down on the other side of the bar, and waved her hand. The faint fuzzy lines that rippled against the bars disappeared. “I have brought you dinner.”

Zeus inched skeptically towards the bars, sinking to his knees. Slowly, cautiously, he extended a hand outwards, relieved when it passed between the bars unharmed. He wrapped his fingers around the piece of bread and snatched it up, sniffing it once.

“There is nothing to be worried about, Zeus.” Theia whispered gently, smiling. “I know you are frightened, but we do not wish to hurt you. Eat, please.”

Zeus took a careful bite. The bread was dry, and hard to swallow, but it was food. His stomach was more than happy to have him keep chewing.

“Is it good?” Theia asked.

Zeus shrugged his shoulders, and took another bite.

“I know it isn’t much, but none of us are eating very well with this war on,” Theia explained. “This is what I had to spare.”

Zeus ate in silence for a few more moments, watching Theia carefully. She did not move, her smile still warm as she observed him - probably making sure he did not try any funny business.

“Please let me go.” Zeus whispered, breaking the silence.

Theia sighed, placing her hands against her thighs. Her smile turned to a frown, her eyes sad. “I wish I could. My husband has his plans, and not even I can stand against him.”

Zeus swallowed. “You could. You don’t have to listen to him! You can let me go, and he can’t say anything because you are just as important and powerful as him.”

Theia rose back to her feet, head shaking. “I cannot, Zeus. Keep eating your meal.”

“No!” Zeus overturned the platter, food scattering across the floor, water spilling. His heart pounded, eyes welling with tears, but he blinked them away. “Rhea is your sister! She always told me you were close. You betrayed her, you let him hurt her. W-We’re family! We aren’t supposed to hurt each other.”

Theia took a deep breath, struggling to remain composed. “I know. But sometimes, not even family is enough.”

“It should be.” Zeus murmured, fingers wrapped around the bars. “If you care about her at all, you will reconsider. You would help me.”

Theia’s jaw clenched and unclenched, and Zeus traced the movement with his eyes. “Perhaps you are right, Zeus. Family is everything. That is why I must stand by them, even if it pains me.”

She snatched up the platter and stormed from the room before Zeus had a chance to speak, before he could retort at all. His heart still thudded violently, and his hands trembled around the bars. 

War made people ugly. It brought out the worst in everyone. It had brought out the worst in Hyperion and Iapetus, but Zeus had seen it in others too. In the viciousness of Hera, in the quietness of Hestia, in the anger of Poseidon, and the stress of Hades. It brought out the worst in Theia, who would sit by and let her husband do harm rather than help an innocent boy like himself.

But perhaps it had brought out some goodness in him. Though Zeus had not intended it at first, he realized quickly what his outburst had done.

It had distracted Theia. It had given him the edge he needed.

There was no invisible barrier between him and the bars.

~

Zeus did not know if his plan would work. He had never learned to instantaneously travel the way other gods did. He was too young, his mother said. It was too dangerous.

Which meant that he would have to escape the palace on foot. He had to remain undetected. He had to hope and pray that no one found him before he made it to the woods and could contact the others for help.

The sun had already set. Darkness engulfed the prison, and the distant sounds of soldiers had gone quiet. Zeus wrapped his fingers around the bars and squeezed his eyes shut.

Sparks burst in the night, emitted from his palm. The metal beneath his hand became unbearably hot, creaking and cracking under the pressure of lightning against it. The metal heaved. The bars burned into Zeus’ flesh, and tears stung his eyes. But he did not relent.

Now was not the time to cry and snivel. Now was the time to be brave. Brave like his brothers and sisters, brave like his mother, like his father.

This was his gift. This was his special power, kept hidden away where no prying eyes could see. He had discovered his power on one of those lonely nights in his bedroom, in the dark, when no one would soothe him to sleep. He had wanted light, and as his hand reached out into the darkness, sparks had danced across his palm.

No one knew. No one needed to know. This was his secret.

The metal bar cracked and gave way. His palm was gold and aching, but he reached for another bar and repeated the process. It was loud, bright, light flashing off the walls. He prayed no one would see the light before he could break free.

His palm hurt fiercely. Lightning crackled violently from his hand, crumbling the metal. With one final creak, the second bar heaved and gave way, creating a large enough gap for Zeus to squeeze through.

He tumbled through the hole into the open room, gasping for breath. Zeus could not even curl his hand into a fist from the pain, but it did not matter. He was free.

He placed his hand on the doorknob, when a loud commotion broke out in the hallway. Zeus stumbled back, eyes wide with terror.

Had he been discovered already? Had someone seen the flickering light through the window? Had someone heard the bars give way?

His eyes darted to the window. If he squeezed, he might have been able to fit.

Zeus had one arm through the window when the door burst open. A squeak of alarm burst from his mouth, and he tried harder to wriggle through.

It was the voice who spoke that stopped him dead in his tracks.“

Zeus?”

Zeus collapsed out of the window, eyes wide. “...Poseidon?”

Chapter Text

HESTIA.

“How could you let this happen? How could you be so stupid? ”

Hestia had never seen her brother so furious. Hades had never spoken so loudly, hands flying in outrage. Tears streamed down Demeter’s face. Poseidon was uncharacteristically pale, hands shaking violently in his lap. Hera stood stock still at Hades’ side, her eyes brimming with fury and anguish.

Hestia’s stomach had not stopped churning. Her heart pounded aggressively. She was too terrified to cry.

“I-I-I just thought…” Poseidon began, his voice catching in his throat. He had never been so timid. The fact that he had not started shouting back at Hades proved just how distraught he was. “I thought it would be alright.”

“You just thought ?” Hades demanded. “You always do this! You do things without thinking, and everyone else pays the price.”

Poseidon winced, eyes shining. “Zeus was j-just so sad, I-I thought… If we did something f-fun, he would feel b-better.”

“Really?” Hades spat. “And how do you think he feels now?”

“Hades…” Hestia warned, chest constricting violently. “That’s enough. Yelling won’t bring Zeus back.”

 In truth, she did not know how to feel. Perhaps she should have been angry with Poseidon the way Hades was - but instead, she only felt defeat. They had failed at their one duty of keeping their siblings safe. If Hestia had to wager a guess, Hades was just as angry at himself.

Hades huffed, throwing his hands up. “I’m going to find him.”

“No.” It was the first word Hera had said, her unusual silence as unnerving as Poseidon’s lack of fire. “We do not know where Zeus has been taken. If you go charging blindly into this, Hyperion will take you too. We need a plan.”

“We can get Zeus back together.” Demeter whispered.

Hades’ face contorted with anguish. “I will not put all of you in danger.”

Hera rolled her eyes but placed a comforting hand on her brother’s shoulder. “You aren’t putting us anywhere. We are doing this for Zeus. Father is too busy with the war effort… And if I had to guess, taking Zeus was meant to be used as leverage against him. If we get Zeus back ourselves, Father can still win this war and we can save our little brother.”

“I have to help,” Poseidon spoke in a whisper, like he was afraid of setting Hades off again. “I have to help bring him home.”

Hades pinched the bridge of his nose, and then turned to Hestia, meeting her gaze. She could sense the conflict in him easily enough. It was a gamble either way. There was strength in numbers, but there was a greater risk if they were all caught.

“We do not even know where he is.” Hades deflated after a moment. “Even if we were to do this together, we have no idea where to start, and the more of us who leave this clearing, the more attention we draw to ourselves. We cannot just check every palace belonging to the enemy. Allow me to find him first.”

“And where are you going to look?” Hera demanded. 

“ I can help you with that part .”

It was impossible to pinpoint the source of the voice. It came from the trees, the wind, the blades of grass. It was everything around them, and could not or would not be bound by a material form. It would have frightened Hestia immensely if she did not already know how to explain the source of the voice. It was Gaia. Though they could not see her, Hestia could feel her presence like a chill that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Grandmother?” Demeter asked incredulously. 

“ Yes, child. I know where Zeus has been taken. But know that if I divulge this information to you, the rest is in your hands. ”

“You can’t help us fight?” Poseidon asked, disappointed.

“ No, grandson. If I join in the fight, I will upset the balance of this world. I cannot take up arms against my own sons… But I can help a grandchild in need easily enough .”

Hades bobbed his head, eyes shining with hope. “We understand, grandmother. Any help you can give us at all would be appreciated.”

“ Good. There is a fortress north of this glade, nestled in the shadow of Mount Olympus. It is there your brother has been taken. But be warned; this fortress is well-guarded. You will need to be stealthy if you have any hope of finding him .”

“Thank you.” Hestia swelled with gratitude, with hope. If there was a chance to get their brother back - their little brother, so sweet, so innocent, so undeserving of this cruelty- then Hestia would take it. She did not care how dangerous it was.

The fire burning in Hades’ eyes told her he felt the same.

“ One last thing. My sons may be arrogant, but they are not to be underestimated. If you do this, they will do everything they can to harm you .”

Silence followed Gaia’s declaration, even the wind seeming to still in apprehension of the truth. 

“We understand.” Hera murmured, her eyes trained on the grass at her feet. Her voice held the sort of conviction Hestia could only marvel at.

“Alright.” Hades turned to face his siblings, hands on his hips, expression fierce and determined. “We must locate this fortress, observe and learn what we can, and prepare to strike.”

“What if Hyperion finds you, too?” Hestia’s heart leapt into her throat, excitement and fear twisting into a nasty concoction inside of her that left her more confused than ever. “He found Zeus the second they set foot outside Gaia’s protection.”

“I don’t think it was that simple.” Poseidon rose back to his feet, and it was with great relief that Hestia found anger in him again. Anger was his fuel, and they would need all the fuel they could get. “Zeus had been wandering for a while outside the borders when Hyperion found us. I think what signalled to him that we had left the boundary was a flower Demeter and I picked.”

“So… Refrain from picking flowers and we’ll be alright?” Hera asked, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Poseidon.”

Poseidon clenched his fists, glaring at Hera. “You weren’t there, Hera. I know that I’m right - Hyperion can’t have eyes everywhere. He can’t possibly be watching the entire border of this glen, and be commanding armies, and holding our brother hostage. He needed a system to notify him! It has to be those flowers, I know it!”

“It’s true.” Demeter interjected before Hera could retort. “Zeus was safe until we picked that flower.”

“There is only one way to find out.” Hades said slowly, glowering at the distant trees as though they had betrayed them and stolen their brother away. “I will track down this fortress and report back with what I discover.”

“Hades…” Hestia warned, her eyes welling with tears. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Hades replied without hesitation. “We’re going to bring our little brother back.”

HADES.

Gaia had not been lying about the fortress.

Nestled in the shadow of Mount Olympus was a great stone fortress, grey and bleak and lacking any real grandeur. It was not like the palaces of Iapetus or Hyperion that Hades had grown familiar with. This fortress was constructed for function, not presentation. It was the perfect place to house a political prisoner.

Somewhere within those walls, Zeus was being held captive. Hades could not imagine the terror he must have felt, the despair, the abandonment. It made his stomach twist uncomfortably. He had to push the thoughts aside so he could focus, but doing so still made him feel guilty.

He had always been stealthy. Father had taught him to wield a sword and spear, to face down an enemy and make them suffer. But Hades had always felt more comfortable in the shadows, a dagger in his hand, no eyes on him to judge, poke, or prod him for his mistakes.

He waited until night fell, and approached the walls as close as he dared. There were several guards posted at each of the two exits - the main one, with a large iron gate, and a second entrance to the east, a small door for staff. Getting through would be difficult without drawing attention.

Though Hades could not see the interior courtyard from outside the walls, he knew that there was only one building tall enough to crest the top of the wall, and it stood only a single story above the walls, placed centrally in the courtyard. There may have been other outbuildings, but if Hades had to wager a guess, Zeus would be somewhere in that central building. Well-guarded, and hard to reach.

The options were bleak at best. They could attempt to fight their way in through one of the two gates. But even if they somehow managed to avoid detection by the bulk of the forces inside the courtyard, of which there were sure to be many, they still had to get inside that building. They could not fight so many soldiers without drawing the attention of one of the Titans, surely.

The other option was to sneak in. Hades suspected he could do that on his own, but if he was caught, he would not be able to fight off all the soldiers. And there was still the issue of getting in .

On his second round of the walls, observing every stone, every inch of its surface, Hades found their way in. A smile formed on his mouth, a twisted and exhausted thing that held no real humour. It was so simple, so stupid, that Hades had to bite back a laugh.

A grove of trees grew on the outside of the west wall. One of the tree branches extended just far enough that a well-aimed jump could land a person on the upper wall. A simple thing to miss as a guard, but sometimes the simplest things were the greatest assets.

Satisfied with his discovery, Hades hurried back into the trees, back towards his family, to celebrate this small victory.

~

“Let’s go over the plan one more time.” Hades insisted. He half-expected a groan of annoyance, but instead there were only a handful of resolute nods. He did not know whether to be impressed by his sibling’s newfound maturity and dedication… or heartbroken by it.

“Demeter and I have the first task.” Hestia began, offering their little sister a warm smile. “We will be a ways off, far enough to give ourselves time to run but close enough for the soldiers to see. We will distract them with fire.”

“The three of us will wait at the treeline until we see the fire on the horizon.” Hera continued, gesturing to herself, Hades, and Poseidon. “Ideally, the soldiers will take notice and investigate.”

“We will use the grove to climb the walls and take advantage of the distraction.” Poseidon clutched the sword at his hip tightly, brows furrowed. “Once we are atop the wall, Hera will take up watch and fire upon anyone who draws too close to Hades and I.”

“The two of you will head to the building in the central courtyard to look for Zeus.” Demeter added, her kind voice hardened by determination. “You will find him and bring him home.”

“If all goes well, there will only be a few soldiers left for us to contest with inside the building,” Hades said, hoping his voice sounded more sure than he felt. It was all a gamble. They had no way of determining how many soldiers Hyperion had posted in the fortress, only that the bulk of his forces would be fighting their father’s army. It was risky. Too risky , he could hear his father saying. “Stick to the plan. If anything goes wrong - and I mean anything at all - we flee. We try again another time. Understood?”

A murmur of assent rippled through his siblings, and Hades’ chest constricted with worry. They were brave, so brave, and he felt like a fool putting them in so much danger. But the longer he pondered it, the more clear it became that he could not do this without them. He may have been stealthy and a good fighter, but that meant nothing without the others there to watch his back.

“Night is approaching.” Hestia murmured, gazing up at the sky.

Hades steeled himself, placing a hand on the sword at his hip. “Let’s do this.”

~

“Be safe.” Hera murmured, placing a hand on Hestia’s shoulder.

“You as well.” Hestia’s eyes shone, bright and full of anguish, but she continued to wear a brave face for her younger siblings. “Come, Demeter. We have work to do.”

Demeter’s hands trembled at her side, but she nodded once at their older sister, gave Poseidon a firm hug, and then hurried after Hestia into the forest.

Now all that was left to do was wait.

Poseidon leaned against one of the trees that provided their cover, eyes trained on the fortress. Whatever he was searching for, Hades could not be certain, but his brows furrowed so intensely that he dared not interrupt his brother’s concentration. Hera sat counting and recounting her arrows, bow slung over her lap. She was an incredible shot, but her skills were often underutilized by their father.

Hades kept his gaze trained on the spot where Hestia’s flames would go up. They would wait to see how the fortress responded to the distraction before they moved on the walls. There was time. But his stomach still lurched every time he thought he saw movement in the distant trees. 

He hoped this worked. Hades had never hoped for something so desperately in his entire life.

Minutes passed in agonizing slowness. Hades’ foot tapped anxiously against the earth. He waited, and waited, and waited -

And then there it was. In the distance, a burning blaze grew taller and higher with every second that passed. A few more beats passed, the flames growing out of control, moving towards the walls at rapid speed. The soldiers would have to react or risk their entire fort going up in flames. 

From within the fortress, a horn sounded. Men shouting echoed across the grassy plain that separated Hades and the others from the fortress walls. Within two minutes, a large number of soldiers filed out the gate, armed with weapons. The guards at the gates remained as their companions marched off towards the blaze that threatened to lick at their current home.

It was now or never.

“Come on,” Hades commanded in a low voice, but Hera and Poseidon were already at his side, ready to move. “Let’s find our brother.”

HERA.

Hera did not know which part would be most difficult. Would it be the journey across an open plain, praying that any watchers on the walls did not spot them in the grass? Or perhaps their climb up the tree, laden with light armour and weapons, cresting a wall that could contain any number of horrors behind it? Or better yet, might it be her brothers’ journey through the interior courtyard and their entrance into the tower, covered only by Hera’s aim?

She could not be certain. No one could until the moment came.

And the time had indeed come. At Hades’ order, the three of them began the trek across the plain, slinking through the grass like deadly serpents. They timed their movements with the shadows of clouds that blew past the moon, drenching the field in temporary inky blackness. They kept low, listening intently for the sounds of shouting or alarm. Despite the cool breeze that blew through the night, Hera found herself sweating profusely the closer they grew to the walls.

By the time they reached the grove of trees that marked their only entrance into the fortress, her forehead was drenched and palms clammy around her bow. Her training had accounted for this, many days spent firing arrows under the heat of the beating sun. But it had not accounted for nervousness nor the tremble of her fingers. Hera prayed her aim remained true.

They wound through the trunks, careful not to disturb the dead leaves and brittle branches below. A single sound might alert the palace to their entrance, and they could not afford that. Not while Zeus was so close and their plan still going off without a hitch. 

They reached their makeshift ladder, an olive tree that grew taller than the rest, its gnarled branches reaching skyward. There was but a small gap between the highest branches and the top of the wall. The branch still held some thickness to it, and Hera hoped it would be enough to bear their weight.

Hades met their gaze in the moonlight, back pressed against the wall. Poseidon too ducked out of view, his youthful face crafted with an expression of false confidence. She knew it was an act. It was his eyes that gave away the fear, one that she too felt despite her greatest attempts to deny it.

Hades gestured to her, then to the branches. Hera understood his silent command and threw her bow over her back temporarily. One foot found purchase on a gnarled lump protruding from the trunk, her hands reaching for the higher branches. Slowly, so slowly it pained her, Hera began to climb. Every inch was a gamble. She had no way of knowing which branches were sturdy or which might give way beneath her. She climbed until her hands made purchase on the highest of branches and she managed to hoist herself up. The branch wiggled beneath her, now perched on her toes upon its wood, but it did not break.

Hera breathed a sigh of relief, and took her first glance at the inside of the fortress.

The wall was a narrow walkway, wide enough only for one person to walk at any given time. A low lying wall protected it from the outside, but there was no inner balustrade to protect her from view of the inner courtyard. The interior was smaller than the outer walls had let on. The single tower in the center, their target, was surrounded by open space full of carts, weapon racks, and low-lying fires where embers still burned between the stones. Two outbuildings existed, of much smaller size than the main building. One she suspected was the armory. Another was a storehouse of some kind for food and supplies.

That was good. That meant that the lower floors of the large building were used for something else… like a prison.

The largest concern was the soldiers. Though many had filed out to tend to the fire Hestia had started, many still weaved between the campfires instead. Hera did a quick headcount, eyes darting through the haze of smoke to round them up. There were thirteen that she could see from this angle, and maybe more in the armoury, or the building itself. 

None seemed to be looking their way, preoccupied instead by the smoke rising in the distance and the two gates that sat opposite her. But anyone who looked this way would see her sitting on the wall with ease.

It was too exposed. They needed to get to better cover.

Her eyes darted to the side gate. There, a low-lying wall on the inside protected the mechanism that would open or close the gate in a hurry. She could make her post there and fire upon anyone who discovered them.

She peered down at her brothers. Holding up a single finger, signalling them to wait, Hera climbed atop the wall and began her journey.

Progress was slow. Anytime she suspected a soldier was looking her way, she sank to her stomach and prayed the height difference was enough to shield her. She moved slow and low, the same as she had across the field. No shouts were raised. No one seemed to notice her, too preoccupied by the current dilemma to make note of her. By the time she reached her cover, her heart thundered like a thousand spears slammed against shields.

Her brothers had not followed her. Their trust in her made a brief flicker of pride spike inside her chest. Hera knew she could not let them down now.

She nocked an arrow and took aim. But it was not towards any of the soldiers - it was towards the olive grove. She took a breath, aiming for the highest branches of the tree. 

Hera fired.

No one seemed to notice that either. The flying of an arrow could be noisy, but there was enough clamour in the courtyard below to cover the noise. Moments later, Poseidon’s head peeked over the edge of the wall, and he slid noiselessly onto the platform. 

Silence. Hades appeared after him, his pale face poking over the stone.

After a moment of searching, Hades found her, and she held up a hand. Now, her work truly began. In order for her brothers to make it across the courtyard, she had to eliminate any enemies in their way. Down there, they would have more cover. But there would also be more soldiers milling about, waiting to stumble upon them like sitting ducks.

Hera had to stop them before that happened.

Like Hades had read her mind, some sort of twin connection if she had to guess, he waited until the courtyard below was empty of soldiers. He then directed Poseidon to shimmy down the wall, landing in the dirt below.

They hurried to hide behind a cart. Hades met her gaze - when the coast was clear, Hera gestured to a tanning rack and nodded. They crept across the dirt, low and quick, until they found cover in behind the next object.

Hera was their guide, ushering them across the courtyard, slow and steady. No one had spotted them. Whether by some miracle of the Fates or their own skill, Hera could not be sure.

But they were not out of trouble yet. As her brothers came to their next hiding spot, a figure emerged from the armoury. He wandered across the courtyard, holding a spear over his shoulder. Any moment, and he would spot them. He would sound the alarm. Her brothers would be caught, would be forced to fight their way out.

The arrow flew before Hera could fully register what she was doing.

It went straight through the back of his skull. He did not even have a chance to scream before he hit the floor, gurgling. Golden ichor flowed from the wound, staining the earth.

She signalled her brothers to run for the door of the largest building. They obeyed her command, unaware of what she had done to save them. As they disappeared into the dark, gone from her sight, Hera nocked another arrow.

POSEIDON .

Poseidon did not know how they had done it. He feared that if he stopped to question their good fortune for even a moment, it would be thrown back in his face and everything would go wrong. 

But they reached the door. They slipped inside undetected. No alarm had been raised as the door clicked softly shut behind them, and the hallway before them was empty. No soldiers were lying in wait for them, the soft flicker of torchlight in the short hallways before them the only signs of movement. At the end of the hall, a light shone through a half-open doorway. The smell of food wafted towards them, mouthwateringly good. A kitchen, then. A mess hall, perhaps.

To their left, a staircase wound upwards. To their right, a staircase went down.

“This way.” Hades whispered, gesturing to the right.

It had to have been a fairly good guess. If Poseidon were to build a place to house prisoners, he too would have put it in the basement. His heart beat rapidly inside his chest, nausea swirling in his stomach. He clutched the hilt of his sword a little tighter, and followed Hades down the steps as quietly as he could. His brother was a natural, stealthy and silent. Poseidon was clumsier of foot, but he managed all the same. For Zeus, he had to be at his best. Causing a ruckus would not bring their little brother home. 

Home. There was a chance none of them would ever be able to go home again - but Gaia’s glade was safer and more like home than a cold prison in a fortress belonging to their uncles.

The staircase curved downwards. As they rounded the corner, two things became obvious to Poseidon.

There was only a single door on this floor, behind which he could presume his little brother was hiding. The second was the two guards standing at attention outside the door, both of whom had turned abruptly towards the door as a loud crackle echoed from behind it.

“What was that?” The first said, reaching for the handle.

“I don’t-” The second began, before his head titled just enough to catch sight of the two brothers standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Wait… Intruders!”

Hades lunged a second before Poseidon did. His brother was speed incarnate, sword whirling so quickly it sliced across the second guard’s throat before he could even draw his weapon. The first managed to brandish his spear before Poseidon reached him. But he batted it aside with a heavy swipe and drove his sword clean through the guard’s chest.

His eyes bulged. Ichor sprayed across Poseidon’s armour. He had never seen so much of it before. Gold stained his hands. The sound of horrible choking rang in his ears.

The body crumpled, and Poseidon pulled his sword free with a sickening gush. Hades stepped over the body and met Poseidon’s gaze.

“Are you alright?” He whispered.

Poseidon nodded resolutely, shoving past his brother to throw open the door.

The sight might have been funny, were the circumstances not so dire. Zeus’ rear wriggled as he tried to shove himself through a tiny window. Somehow, their brother had escaped his cell and was attempting to launch a prison break. Two bars smouldered in one of the cells, but how Zeus had broken them, Poseidon could not be sure.

“Zeus?” He breathed incredulously. Their brother dropped from the window, eyes going wide. A dozen emotions flashed across his young face then. Surprise, relief, anguish, fear, hurt. All of it came and went so quickly, it gave Poseidon whiplash.

“...Poseidon?” Zeus whispered. Hades stepped into the room after him, and Zeus’ eyes welled with tears. He launched forward, throwing himself into Poseidon’s arms. Hades hurried forward and wrapped his arms around the both of them, squeezing tight enough to crush. Neither of them minded much.

“How did you find me?” Zeus asked, tears sliding down his cheeks. When he wiped them away, his expression hardened, and for the first time in all their years, Poseidon did not see his little brother as so little .

“Gaia.” Poseidon explained breathlessly. “But we don’t have much time. We have to get you out of here quickly. Hera is still waiting outside.”

“Hera is here too?” Zeus’s surprise was tangible. “Thank you for saving me. I was trying to save myself before you got here.”

“We saw.” Hades murmured with a laugh, placing a hand on Zeus’ head to ruffle his hair. “You did good, Zeusie.”

“Well, isn’t this touching. ”

Poseidon whirled so quickly, that his blade nearly sliced Hades in two. He only managed to avoid it because Hades leapt forward, placing himself between the younger two and their uncle.

Iapetus. Dark-haired with a cruel face, scarred from many years of battle. His black armour was adorned with a carving of a head on a spike, his reputation as Piercer so well-known and wide-spread it had become immortalized on his clothing. 

Poseidon had not seen their uncle in years, mostly due to the distance between kingdoms and Iapetus’ desire to remain uninvolved in politics. Now, with the war on, Poseidon realized that had all been a front to hide his attempted coup.

He had known. All that luck they had faced in the courtyard, the lack of guards - Iapetus had known they were coming. And now he had them cornered, in a room with six cells for six children of Cronus. They had nowhere to go. Even if Hera discovered them in time, she could not fight Iapetus on her own.

He smiled wickedly at them, pressing forward into the room. Hades brandished his sword higher. Poseidon could not see his face, but he did note the tremble in Hades’ arm. His brother’s fear made Poseidon see red, anger exploding inside his chest. Iapetus had torn up everything they knew, thrown them into a dangerous war, and forced six innocent children into hiding. He had housed their little brother and sent allies into their palace to harm their mother. Iapetus deserved to drown for his crimes.

“I thought the little brat would be enough to sway Cronus to surrender.” Iapetus confessed, holding his spear casually, as though at a dinner party discussing the weather with friends. “I admit I was wrong. But with all three of his sons in my clutches, the foolish king will be given no choice. Thank you for cooperating with my plans, young gods. You have made this so much easier for me.”

“You’re a monster.” Hades spat. “Life has been good under Father. You are power-hungry and arrogant. No one will support your rule for long.”

Iapetus scowled, pointing his spear at Hades. Poseidon hissed and held his sword aloft. “You know nothing of this world, boy. When I take the throne, you will see how benevolent a king can truly be.”

“Benevolence?” Hades laughed, but the high-pitched tone betrayed his fear. He was no diplomat, no skilled talker. If they were to get out of this, it would be by strength of arm alone. “Is that what you call imprisoning a child?”

“I call that a necessary evil for a greater purpose.” Iapetus replied. “I don’t expect you to understand. I do expect you to cooperate.”

“I won’t.” Hades held his sword higher, ready to meet Iapetus in combat.

“No? Then I suppose those girls we’re capturing - the ones who started the fire - are of no meaning to you? You will not lay down your sword for their well-being, hm?”

Poseidon’s stomach lurched. At his side, Zeus’ breath hitched. 

“No…” Hades whispered.

Iapetus smirked. “Yes. Now get in the cages, boys. One way or another, you will all end up in there. Whether that is with all your limbs attached or not is up to you .”

DEMETER .

Demeter ran and did not complain that her feet hurt. Now was not the time for childish grievances, not when Zeus was captured and no one else was coming to save him. She followed Hestia through the trees, racing while they still had thick enough foliage to cover them. Her older sister led the way with grace, not stopping for even a moment to catch her breath. They could rest when Zeus was safe, she decided.

Hestia came to a halt eventually. She held her palm against a tree, splayed as she surveyed the area around them. If Demeter squinted through the trees, she could see vague torchlight in the distance. It was quite a ways off, but it was visible to her even now. It would be a great spot to stage their distraction, and must have been why Hestia chose it.

Demeter’s chest heaved with each breath, but she kept her expression firm when Hestia finally turned to look at her.

“This will do,” Hestia confirmed. “I need you to help me gather up loose brush and set it all against these trees. I want to make sure this forest goes up quickly.”

“Sorry trees…” Demeter whispered. She hoped they would forgive her for this. Never would she have set a forest ablaze for any other reason - but for Zeusie, she would. 

Demeter began her job quickly. She stooped and gathered up as much as she could from the surrounding forest floor- dead leaves, loose sticks, anything that would burn quick and hot. She gathered bundles of it in her arms and set it where Hestia had instructed. The pile grew rapidly with their combined efforts, and Demeter knew that the blaze would have been magnificent, were the situation not so dire.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Hestia whispered, wiping her brow despite the cool night air. “Get back. Once this goes up, we’ll have to run quickly to avoid it.”

Demeter nodded, hurrying back from their brush pile. Hestia knelt beside the deadfall and extended her hand towards it. A moment passed in silence. Demeter wondered briefly if the nerves had gotten to her sister.

And then flames burst from Hestia’s palm, lighting up the brush in seconds. Satisfied with her work, Hestia jumped back and rushed towards her, eyes alight with something Demeter could not comprehend.

“Run!” Hestia instructed, and Demeter did not need to be told twice. They raced back through the trees towards where they had come from, bobbing and weaving between the trunks and over roots. Demeter could feel the heat of the fire as it engulfed the forest, and when she dared to risk a glance back, flames reached high into the night sky towards Ouranos.

“Will they be able to put the fire out?” Demeter wondered as they ran.

Hestia’s laughter surprised her, a wild and untameable thing. “Half of them are river gods, Demeter! If they cannot put the fire out, then they are sorry excuses for their station.”

They had almost reached the rendezvous point when trouble began.

A strange silence fell over the forest then. No longer could Demeter hear the calling of soldiers in the distance or the rustle of wind through the trees. She could not smell the smoke or feel the heat any longer. It was as if their section of woods had been completely cut off from the outside world, an isolated bubble.

“Hestia…” Demeter murmured nervously, slowing in her steps. “Something’s wrong.”

“Dem, we are almost there, just keep moving.” Hestia insisted.

A crack like thunder pierced the silence, a flash of light so bright illuminating the night that Demeter had to avert her eyes or risk being blinded.

“Run!” Hestia cried again, but by then it was too late. From the light emerged the smirking face of their uncle Hyperion, the same visage Demeter had seen only two days earlier when Zeus was taken. Fear swelled in her belly like the tide, but it was quickly squashed by a vicious sort of anger that made Demeter’s blood boil and her vision tint with red.

“Going somewhere, nieces?” Hyperion asked cruelly. Hestia stumbled backward, placing herself between Demeter and their uncle. A good thing, too. Demeter wanted to pummel his face to mush.

“Let us go.” Hestia breathed, and Demeter marvelled at the bravery in it. “I know why you wish to stop us, uncle, but let me tell you why you shouldn’t.”

“Oh, Hestia.” Hyperion cooed, drawing a sword that should have terrified Demeter with its size and sharpness. It only served to make her angrier. “Just like your mother. Always trying to sweet talk the rest of us into doing her awful bidding.”

“I will speak no lie.” Hestia held her chin high. “If you spare my sisters, if you spare my brothers… If you promise they will be safe, I will make you a promise of my own.”

Hyperion raised his sword lazily, advancing. “And that is?”

“You said it once yourself that I was getting too old to remain unwed.” Hestia kept herself between Demeter and the blade, her voice clear as spring water. Demeter’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. She knew where this was headed, and she didn’t like it. “Well, here I am. If you spare my brothers and sisters, I will be the bride you demand. I will marry your son and give you more of a claim to the throne you desire so badly to usurp.”

Hestia hesitated for only a moment, but it was enough for Demeter to feel her disgust. “Or I will be your bride, uncle, if that is what you most desire.”

“Hestia, no! ” Demeter cried, but Hestia raised a hand to silence her.

It was enough to halt Hyperion in his tracks. He seemed to be pondering the idea, weighing the options. Demeter’s eyes darted left and right, searching for escape. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run, not where Hyperion would not catch them and run them through with his sword. The thought of Hestia marrying this creep made her skin crawl, but what other options did they have?

“You offer me something I could take myself.” Hyperion said slowly. “When I win this war, you could be my bride anyway.”

“True.” Hestia murmured. “But I will not be an easy bride. I will fight you every step of the way. I will not be a wife you can show pride in. I will make your life a hell, uncle, and chains would be the only way to tame me. But if you take my offer now, I will be dutiful. I will follow your every command and be the perfect wife. If you marry me on my terms, I will help you end this war far faster than it would end your way.”

Hyperion’s brow furrowed. Was he truly considering the offer? Would he accept? Would Hestia be forced into an eternity at this monster’s side? What of Aunt Theia?

“Alright, girl.” Hyperion smirked. “But I must make it look like I took you by force. Put up a bit of a fight, would you?”

Flames erupted in Hestia’s hands, the heat nearly scorching Demeter’s dress. “Gladly.”

Hyperion lunged forward to claim them, but contact never came. Another bright light burst to life in the night, followed by a second, until Hyperion disappeared from view behind two sets of broad shoulders in well-crafted armour. Both with dark hair, both wielding impressive weapons.

“You always were the most prideful one, brother.” Uncle Crius spoke in his measured, monotonous tone. 

“Hestia here is far too good for the likes of you.” That one was Coeus. Demeter could hardly believe her eyes. How had they found them? How could they have taken time away from battle to save their nieces? How could any of this been possible?

Hyperion’s snarl was visible between a space in their shoulders, his weapon brandished. “Get out of my way! How could you… How have you left the battlefield behind?”

“Unlike you, Hyp, we trust in our wives and children to get the job done .” Crius explained simply. “Now surrender before we cut you into ribbons.”

Hyperion grew pale, his sunny complexion turning cold. “Not possible. You cannot-”

“Defeat you?” Coeus asked lazily. “How many times did we destroy you in our youth? Surrender and spare yourself the humiliation of an easy defeat.”

“I will not!” Hyperion cried.

Crius sighed, almost tired, like the entire thing was a drain on his energy. “Then you give us no choice, brother. Perhaps now you will see the errors in your treachery.”

The clash of blades was violent, piercing the night air. It was mesmerizing to watch, the way the three of them lunged and slashed and rolled to avoid being struck. The energy that rippled off of them was electric. Demeter stood in awe, unmoving, unable to tear her gaze away. Whatever stroke of luck had come their way, whatever forces had warned their uncles just in time to be spared, Demeter could not thank them enough. Hestia seemed to be the same, still as a statue, staring ahead.

“I cannot believe you were going to marry him.” Demeter whispered.

Hestia scoffed. “I would never marry him. I would have figured something else out.”

“Right… Should we go?”

“No.” Hestia shook her head. “When our uncles win, we will go with them to reclaim our brother.”

ZEUS.

Zeus had never felt so many conflicting things at once.

His brothers and sisters had come for him. They had risked their own safety to set him free, they had not let him suffer for long. Zeus did not know what he had expected, but the weight of gratitude was stifling. All the fears and insecurities he had suffered in his cell had gone. It did not matter that father had not come, because Hades had. Poseidon had. Hera had, and so had Hestia and Demeter.

But gratitude was not the only thing he felt.

Staring Iapetus in the face - the titan who had started this war, who had taken his mother from him, had taken his home from him - made Zeus afraid. No longer for himself. Selfish fear was the thing of children, and Zeus did not feel like a child anymore. He was afraid for his family, the ones who had come all this way to rescue him only to end up in the very same clutches. Zeus would never forgive himself if they were hurt because of him. If only he had been faster, if only he had escaped a little sooner.

Iapetus now continued to back them towards the cells. His spear could have easily pierced through any of them, if reputation proved anything. What could they do? Zeus did not even have a weapon save for his secret lightning, and though Poseidon had gotten much better with a blade, together they would still be no match for Iapetus.

Hades did not seem intent on backing down, though. He had been trained to be a soldier first. Fighting was the way of the titans, after all.

“Back down, nephew.” Iapetus hissed. “You will get hurt, and so will your sisters.”

“I know your way. It does not matter if we go peacefully. We get hurt either way.” And then Hades lunged. 

The gasp that left Zeus’ mouth was entirely involuntary. The move seemed to catch Iapetus off guard, at the very least, though his recovery was impressively fast. Hades managed to dodge underneath his spear, slashing towards the titan’s legs. He jumped out of the way and whirled his spear, nearly catching Poseidon directly in the chest with the shaft. Poseidon shoved Zeus backwards toward the cells, searching for an opening in the fight.

Zeus was no expert, but there did not seem to be one. Every time Poseidon attempted to move forward, Hades or Iapetus whirled so suddenly, that Poseidon had to falter back to avoid being hacked to pieces.

Hades was holding his own. Iapetus was an impressive fighter, so powerful and swift that only the fastest of fighters could have avoided his blows for long. Hades managed, dodging under swipes of Iapetus’ spear, attacking with vigor. No blow landed, and the sweat on Hades’ brow was evident. 

But there was no fear. Hades excelled this way, and it was clear in the confidence of his stance. He fought hard, long enough to give Iapetus reason to be concerned.

It could not last forever, though. Hades would make a mistake eventually, or he would tire, and it would all be over. Zeus had to help somehow, had to intervene, had to give Hades his fighting chance.

But how? With sparks? He could not control them the way Hestia controlled her flames. He would hurt Hades just as much as he hurt Iapetus. He could try to run, but then what? Hades would be captured instead, and they would be right back where they started.

At least Hades would be better at making an escape attempt than he had.

It happened so quickly, that Zeus did not realize what had happened until Hades cried out.

Iapetus’ spear protruded from Hades’ belly, stabbed through a break in Hades’ guard. Golden ichor rolled down Hades’ abdomen, splattering the floor with gold. Iapetus smirked with delight, holding his spear fast as Hades collapsed to the ground in pain.

“Hades!” Poseidon cried, voice rife with anguish. He lurched forward, trying to slam his blade down on Iapetus’ neck, but the titan grabbed his wrist with his opposing hand and held him there.

“I told you to back down.” Iapetus sighed, shaking his head in pity. Pity . As if he felt any remorse for what he had done.

Hades winced, trying to rise and failing. His blade had fallen from his hand, eyes wide and breathing shallow. “I-I’m alright, Poseidon.”

“I will kill you!” Poseidon cried, kicking out at Iapetus’ knee with his foot. The titan grunted, but did not release him.

“You have done great work, my sons. Let me take it from here.”

A figure emerged from the darkness of the hallway, regal and proud and barely masking his fury. Zeus’ eyes went wide, heart thundering in his chest. It was father!

“Let my sons go.” He commanded, and Zeus was certain he had never heard Cronus sound so angry. 

“Brother,” Iapetus replied smoothly, dropping Poseidon to the floor. Their middle brother hurried to Hades’ side, trying to soothe his pain. “How nice to see you.”

“You traitorous bastard.” Cronus hissed, glare narrowing. “Did you think this would work? I would sooner throw myself into Tartarus than let you use my children against me.”

“Would you?” Iapetus replied drily.

“Boys, get Hades out of here.” Cronus’ final words before he surged forward and met Iapetus in battle.

The room was not large enough for two powerful beings to fight so viciously. Zeus had to crawl along the floor to reach his brothers, and even then, could feel the power emanating off of the two dueling deities. He could not take the time to watch, to see who was winning or how the fight was going. His focus was on Hades, still bleeding on the floor.

He reached Poseidon and gave a firm nod. With a heave, they got Hades into a standing position and hurried as best as they were able towards the entrance. Hades grimaced with every step, his forehead beaded with sweat, eyes watery. Ichor stained Zeus’ hands, but he did not care. Not when Hades needed him.

They had Hades through the door. He whimpered, leaning heavily against Poseidon who was broad enough to support him. If anyone else tried to stop them, they would be done for. Just a little further, Zeus told himself. Just a little further, that’s all.

A massive whack sounded from behind them, followed by a crashing thud. Zeus risked a glance over his shoulder in alarm, fearing for their father.

But it was not Cronus who laid now in the entryway to the prison, eyes dazed. Iapetus was sprawled across the floor, groaning in pain. Across the room, their father leaned heavily against the wall, ichor trickling from his bicep.

Iapetus began to rise again, and father still had not recovered. 

Zeus moved without thinking. He released Hades, who stumbled into Poseidon with a groan. Hand extended, he summoned all the power he could, all the fear and fury and anguish and poured it into the lightning that exploded in his palm.

A palm he pressed firmly against Iapetus’ throat. He held it there even as the titan screamed, even as the smell of burnt flesh - a horrible, nasty smell - reached Zeus’ nose. Only when his father barked at him to stop did Zeus relent.

He could feel the eyes boring into him, shocked stares that could not comprehend what they had just seen.

“How did you do that?” A feminine voice echoed from the stairwell. Standing there, her eyes as wide as Poseidon’s was Hera, bow in her hand.

“I don’t know.” Zeus whispered. Cronus crossed the room and crouched over his groaning brother, who lay smoldering on his prison floor. “I’ve always been able to do this.”

“And you never told us?” Poseidon asked incredulously.

“No one ever asked.” 

“Excellent work, son.” Cronus said breathlessly, placing a hand on Iapetus’ chest. With a flash of light, their uncle’s body disappeared. “He will be taken care of by the rest of our allies. There is no sense lingering here any longer.”

“Father…” Hera breathed, eyes alight. “I saw you in the courtyard. You eviscerated all of those guards, it was incredible!”

“Thank you for watching over me.” Cronus said fondly, moving past his sons to pat her on the shoulder. “Come. Your sisters will be joining us any moment.”

“They’re alright?” Poseidon asked, helping Hades limp down the hallway. Hera joined them and threw Hades’ other arm over her shoulder to assist.

“Yes. Your other uncles came to their rescue.” Cronus informed them.

Sure enough, as they broke back into the courtyard, devoid of any signs of life and only a handful of bloodied bodies that would soon regenerate, a shrill voice pierced the air.

“Zeus!” He glanced up in surprise, delight swirling inside of him at the sight. Demeter and Hestia raced across the now-empty courtyard, their faces bright and beaming. Behind them, Uncle Coeus and Crius marched with casual strides, carrying a limp figure between them. 

Hyperion .

“Zeus, you’re alright!” Hestia wept, pressing kisses into his hair the moment they met. “Oh, thank goodness. Our uncles came to our rescue, but we were so worried for you.”

“You came to save me!” Zeus cried in excitement, embracing Demeter next. She glanced towards Hades, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open in shock. Fear flashed in her eyes, the same mirrored on Hestia’s face.

“Hades needs attention soon.” Poseidon interrupted, gesturing to their injured brother still supported between him and Hera.

“We will take him to our medics on the frontlines,” Cronus commanded. “There we will tell them this war is over.”

Relief flooded Zeus’ senses. The war was over? With Hyperion and Iapetus now down for the count, there were few left to lead the army. They could go home! 

“How did you all do it?” Demeter asked, bouncing on her feet as they gathered together for the journey back to the frontline.

“Father saved us!” Zeus replied, grinning. “He was amazing.”

“No, my son.” Cronus placed his hand on Zeus’ shoulder, squeezing it warmly. Pride surged in Zeus’ chest. “You have saved yourselves.”

Had his father ever said something so kind to him? Had Cronus ever recognized his merit, his ability? A lump formed in Zeus’ throat like he had swallowed too much bread, and it took everything he had not to burst into tears.

“You have all done your father proud,” Cronus added, smiling warmly. A smile suited his face, Zeus decided. He hoped it would not continue to be rare. “Without your efforts, this war may have dragged on much longer. Thank you. Now, let us return home.”

Together, arm in arm, a family united against a common foe, Zeus found solace. Together, six children, their father, and three uncles (one a little worse for wear) disappeared into light and were joined again with the rest of their family.