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Zeus was not his father’s son.
If there was one thing in the world that he knew for certain, it was that. He was not his father, and he never would be. He never could be.
He knew that for certain.
He had killed his father who had killed his father. Their violent cycle of succession, which he’d been told would continue on when he had children of his own.
But Zeus had defied Fate before. He had made his decision.
The cycle ended with him. It would never, ever be able to devour one of his children. Not so long as he lived.
His children would get to grow up under his blue sky. They would never have to fear him, not in the way he had feared his own father. They would never have to feel that the world was going to eat them alive.
Zeus would do whatever he had to do to keep his children safe from the cycle that had circled him like vultures for his entire life.
He did what he had to do.
He had to discipline them, to keep them in line and out of those vultures’ grasps. He had to yell at them to drown out the sounds of their cries. He had to hurt them, sometimes, as much as he despised it, because if he didn’t do it then the cycle would.
He had to.
There was nothing in the world that scared him more than the thought of his children falling to that cycle. Because they would fall. Zeus would hate himself for it, but he would not let them take what was his. He had fought too hard for what he had.
He would not- could not let it come to that.
Some of his children were more vulnerable to it all than others.
Dionysus certainly had the potential. His domains were perfect for turning the world on its head, as the cycle tended to do. But the boy didn’t know enough to do anything truly stupid with them, and Zeus doubted he would be tempted to do anything that would interrupt his partying.
Hermes and Ares- neither of them were anywhere near capable enough to continue the cycle effectively, regardless of whether or not they wanted to. He had nothing to fear with them.
Athena, of course, was more than capable. And with the prophecy about her mother’s child-
But she was his daughter, not his son. The prophecy didn’t matter. And his daughter was so, so smart. She was much too smart to fall for the cycle’s siren songs.
As for his other dearest daughter, he didn’t even consider it. She was the most well-behaved, most obedient of his children. He let her do what she liked, let her go where she pleased, because he knew she would always do what he told her to do and always come when he called.
Artemis had always been a good girl. Her brother, on the other hand-
Apollo had always struggled with the obedience that seemed to come so naturally to his sister. He always had to ask questions, could never simply do what he was told.
Despite that, Zeus couldn’t help but adore his son.
He was so incredibly clever. Ambitious, too, having claimed more domains than he had arrows in his quiver. Brilliantly talented at all that he did. Beloved by almost everyone who’d ever met him. His light was so bright it was blinding.
At the same time-
His temper was like lightning, striking swift and hard, obliterating whatever it touched. He could never take anything lying down. He thought himself above everything and everyone.
Apollo was a little bit too much like Zeus.
He would be lying if he said it didn’t terrify him.
If the cycle were to claim any of his children, he knew Apollo would be the one. There was no one more perfect for it.
Zeus would do whatever he had to do to keep Apollo safe.
He was not his father’s son. He was the end of the cycle. Apollo would not be devoured.