Chapter Text
The gods have many children.
Enough to rebuild civilizations.
Children they don’t really care about. Because honestly, there are as many of them as there are stars in the sky.
So they don’t exactly care when one of them dies on a quest they were sent on.
After all—
they have plenty.
There is another world that isn’t as fortunate.
Years ago, after the Titanomachy, Kronos cursed his family. He looked upon his children with nothing but hatred, and he spoke—
“I hate you, my children,” he said. “But I am also your father, and I feel pity for you. So I will spare you the pain of betrayal by your own blood.
An eerie smile spread across his face as he continued—
“You will never bear children of your own.And if, by some cruel twist of fate, you do, their births will be agony. Your lovers will suffer, and many will not survive. The children you are given will be still and lifeless, or twisted into monsters.And if one should live..it will drain you as it grows, and enter this world weak, only to die before it can ever truly live.”
He laughed when he saw his children’s faces, twisted with rage at his words.
Demeter was the first to move. She seized the tyrant king’s sickle and lunged for him, aiming to cut out his tongue.
The others snapped out of their shock soon after, rushing to her side. Together, they overpowered him—dragging, tearing, and finally casting him down into Tartarus
After the war, there was a celebration.
A long one.
The gods and all those who had stood with them feasted and drank for weeks without end.
They had clearly forgotten the tyrant’s last words.
Years passed after his fall. The gods didn’t notice anything was wrong—
until they desired children.
And to their shock,the curse had taken hold.
---
The Fates watched as another child died,
it was getting tiresome.
Watching the gods grieve children who never had the chance to spread their wings. Watching them suffer because of their father’s cruelty.
It felt unfair.
But then again—
the Kronides had committed their own crime,they had killed their kin.
And curses like this didn’t appear from nothing.
They took root.
And they spread.
There were a few exceptions.
Miracles, they called them.
Ares, Hephaestus, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Hermes,Dionysus and Pan.
But even these miracles came with a cost.
Nothing was ever simple.
And because of that, the gods changed.
They became more paranoid and protective.
Any child was guarded like it could vanish at any moment.
Because it could.
And often, it did.
Apollo and Artemis were rarely apart when they weren't performing their duties. Artemis was fiercely protective, constantly hovering, though Apollo never complained—he returned the same energy without hesitation. Considering the fact that Artemis had helped with the birth of her own brother, watching him slowly fade and reappear, her obsession made sense.
Hephaestus, having one non-functioning leg, was far more vulnerable, resulting in Hera keeping one of her lionesses watching over her son at all times. Even though he had a prosthetic, that did not stop the Queen of the Gods from hovering.Always ready to step in at the slightest sign of something wrong.It has nothing to do with the fact that she's mostly responsible for what happened, no, totally not.
Ares stayed close to Athena during war councils and battlefields alike, always watching and ready to step in if something went wrong. He’d even drag Apollo along just to check on her (also an excuse to check up on Apollo—Ares, being the second oldest, had grown more protective after seeing so many of his siblings die).
Dionysus, being the youngest demigod–turned–god, also struggled heavily with the curse. Safe to say, his siblings and parents had him on lockdown on multiple occasions.
Even Aphrodite, who was born from sea foam, was welcomed into the family and cherished.
And then there was Pan.
Hermes’ only child.
One of the rare second-generation miracles.
Hermes never let him out of sight for long. Never.
If anything felt off, he would bring him back to the Nest for days, refusing to risk even a scratch.
His baby will stay safe with him for eternity if he had too.
The Fates sighed as they cut another string short.
That poor child never got to be adored the way they should have been—never loved, never protected, never spoiled, never shown how important they were to their parents.
They watched Demeter grieve again, mourning another child she would never get to hold. Never get to raise. Never get to truly keep.
Poor kore who never got to know her mother.
As the grieving mother turned the earth cold—freezing the world itself in her sorrow for months at a time—the Fates finally had enough.
They had seen too much loss.
Too many strings cut too early.
If the world refused to balance itself—
then they would fix it.
No matter what it took.
They searched for years until they found it.
A tapestry—overflowing with life.
Children—demigods— everywhere. Bright. Laughing. Alive.
It was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
Then the Fates looked closer.
And saw the injuries.
So many of them.
Bruises. Scars. Marks that should never exist on something so young, something that belonged to the gods.
And then—
Weapons.
Why in Hades’ name were they giving children weapons?
Not wooden training tools.
Not symbolic relics.
Real weapons.
In their small hands.
In their too-small grips.
The Fates froze.
Where were their parents?
What kind of world allowed this?
What kind of world made this normal?
They kept watching this world unfold, hearing about so-called “quests” as they went on.
Watching children get injured. Sometimes worse.
Die.
The Fates did not like this.
This was not how it should be.
How dare they?
They were given blessings. Miracles. Lives that should have been treasured.
And they were just… sent out on 'quests'?
The Fates were furious.
If this world could not take care of its children—then so be it.
Their gods would.
---
When it got dark and everyone slept, the Fates got to work.
They began cutting strings.
As many as they could without arising suspicion. Some where easier to cut than the others.Some of these kids weren't even claimed by their parents.
Enough to satisfy their gods.
A few demigods.
And a satyr.
Pan would be absolutely elated to see this one—something that smells and feels so much like him
They tried not to think too much about what that implied.
Because there was no way Hermes would let his precious baby die.
Right?
.
..
...
....They wanted to quickly leave this accursed place.
So the Fates left with as many beautiful kids as possible.
They can't wait to see the miracles parents reaction.