Chapter Text
Ichor pools on the floor beneath him as he struggles to stand from his knees. Surrounded by his own children, waiting for the last strike to land.
“Oh my children, you do not know the powers you are tempting…” he says, lifting his eyes to meet his youngest. The one he was so sure had been devoured, same as his siblings. Instead, it had been a rock, and he had been deceived. “Zeus, my son, stop while you still can.”
“Father, we did not fight the last 10 years to stop now. Your cruel time is over. The Titans' time is gone.” Zeus stood tall with his master bolt gripped tightly. Energy cracked around him and jumped from him to his siblings' weapons. Behind them stood their sisters. There was no escape for the Titan King.
Kronos raised himself to his knees. His scythe lay broken on the floor before him. Golden eyes met the black inky depth of his firstborn son, shifted to the broken sea glass of his second son, before landing on the stormy-striking blue of the next King. A deep laugh came from his chest.
“Then so be it. I shall hope you never experience the pain, boy. Kneeling before your own children awaiting the last strike. I don’t have much power left, but it is enough…” he took a labored breath before raising his eyes to the sky. “Hear me, my children! You shall never have to experience this betrayal as I have. You shall never have to kneel to your children; your lessors.” Poseidon shifted his weight and leveled his trident. But he couldn’t move forward. His limbs felt as though they were moving through crystallized honey.
"You shall never have to worry, since you shall never have children of your own. They will grow, draining you and weakening your domains. They will be born through pain and sorrow, withering away in your arms.” All the gods fought to surge forward. Eyes wide with fear at hearing their father’s curse.
“And when they draw their last labored breath, you will watch as the light fad-“ divine flame overtook Kronos’ body. His body burned and returned to Tartarus. As his form started to dissipate, the gods felt their bodily control return. Zeus turned to his youngest and oldest sister.
“Thank you, sister. I do not know what came over me. I could not move nor call down a strike of lightning.” The siblings closed in on the last spot their father was. Zeus looked over the mountain range that stretched out in front of him. The earliest rays of the dawning sun could be seen breaking the horizon. “Siblings, do you think… do you think that his curse took? He did not finish it, but I am unsure.”
“We will not know for some time, brother. Let us recover our strength.” Hestia stepped forward to the remains of her father’s scythe. It still burned despite there being little wood left. She laid several small sticks from the ground into the fire. Her golden scepter pushed the sticks that did not land on the scythe deeper. She was never fond of the weapon, but it was required for the war. Perhaps now it could take on a new life. She sat next to the fire and looked over her shoulder. “We have much to do, brother, but first come and sit around the fire. The sun is rising on a new age, and it is a beautiful sight.”
One by one, the 6 Kronides sat side by side next to the fire. The sun broke the horizon as Zeus sat between Hera to his left and Poseidon on his right. They watched as the orange sky bled into the darkness above them. When the morning had finally arrived, they rose and began remaking the order of the world. Hestia kept the fire going so her siblings would always have a place to return to.
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As time carried on, the gods grew in roles.
Zeus was a strong and kind King. On the first night of their rule, next to their sister’s hearth, Zeus made his brothers swear that if he ever began to act as their father, they would rise against him. He cared for his subjects and led his fellow Olympians through many trials.
Years had passed since the curse of his father. Kronos’ control over time was gone, and his essence was spread through Tartarus. The god king had Hades personally check throughout the years. He was sure the curse was gone, but he would not risk his Queen. He called upon Metis to bear his first child. The discussion stretched on for years between the trio before they attempted anything.
At first, Metis was fine. The goddess of wisdom and craft was able to spend time with the family, sat with Hestia at the hearth, and could even work on the armor she had designed for her daughter. For months, things were fine. Metis did have some sensitivity, but if that was all the curse was, then they would be fine.
The true first sign of something being different happened as she worked on the helmet. As she raised the hammer above her head, a sharp pain ripped across her midsection. The hammer dropped and clattered to the floor with Metis next to it.
“Zeus! Hera!” She called out while curled on the floor behind the work table. Her abdomen burned and felt as though something was trying to draw her inward. She felt her power drawing deeper into herself. Zeus burst through the open door with a wild, frantic look. He could not see anyone and started to reach out for his Master Bolt. Hera ran in after him but stopped at his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, Zeus saw a foot kick out from behind a bench. He and his wife rounded the workbench before dropping to their knees.
“Metis, what is wrong?” Zeus reached around Metis to raise her to a sitting position, leaning against his chest. She wrapped her arms around herself and twisted into Zeus’ left side.
“I do- urgh- I do not know.” Metis eyes were half lidded and hazy as she tried to answer. “I was work- working on the armor for our daughter. As I raised the hammer to strike, I felt as though I was being ripped in two. The pain sliced across my stomach.” Metis absentmindedly ran her hands across her pregnant belly. Hera reached out to take her hands. “Somethi- urgh… - something is not right. I have never felt this… weak. It is as if I am being drawn inward… I do not kno-“ Her words were broken by pained breaths before her head lulled forward.
“Metis!” Hera called out and grabbed the sides of her face. Metis’ eyes were closed, but she was still making pained sounds. “Husband, take her to our room. I will gather supplies and meet you there.” Zeus nodded once before rising to his feet and flashed out of the room in a golden light.
Hera dropped her chin to her chest and gave a quiet prayer for her family. After the months of Metis’ pregnancy, they all thought the curse was gone. Hera opened her eyes and saw the hammer on the floor. Picking it up as she stood, she saw the nearly complete helmet on the workbench. Metis had spent a long time designing the armor she had finally started. Hera and Zeus had tried, and failed, to convince her to wait until the child was born to finish it. She set the hammer on the bench next to the helmet and flashed out of the room.
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The next weeks were a rough time for gods and mortals. The gods stood vigil around Metis. She had not woken up since closing her eyes in the workshop. Zeus had been distraught for days. The storms happening below Olympus had all mortals praying for forgiveness for everything. They were not sure what they had done to ensure Zeus’ wrath, but it needed to be corrected quickly. They sacrificed in his name and prayed to his siblings, but nothing changed.
After 48 days, Metis awoke with a pained whine. Hera and Zeus were by her side immediately. “Metis, how can we help? What can we do?” Zeus pleaded as he gripped her hand.
“It is time. I don- ah!- I don’t know any other way for her to survive! You must let me go!” Metis gripped Zeus’ hand back with more strength than she should be able to.
“I do not understand. Let you go?” Hera asked.
“Yes. I have stayed asleep to conserve power for her. On my third day I- urgh- I realized that she was where my power was being drawn into. For her to live, I must fade. I have been giving her my power bit by bit. She is ready but still weak. When I fade, give her my domains. She shall be the new goddess of wisdom. My daughter will be your greatest strategist. She will inspire new inventions and cradle civilizations.” Metis grabbed Hera’s hand and gripped Zeus’ even tighter. “It has been an honor.”
With a great flash, Metis faded from view, and Athena was left in her place. The storms did not stop for days.
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Despite the hardships of Athena’s birth, the Olympians continued to try.
Hera’s first attempt was painful. She was in constant pain and would regularly argue with Zeus. After months of anguish, Ares was born in a bloody and rageful event. His eyes were full of fire, but his body was incredibly weak. His breaths were shallow and fast. Zeus quickly placed his domains over his son. It lessened the pain, but Ares still took years to gain strength.
Hera’s next pregnancy was tame in comparison. Olympus waited on bated breath for something to happen, but it never did. When the birth came, it was clear why. The curse had primarily affected the mother so far, but this time it affected the child. Hephaestus’ first moments were pitiful before his mother gave him his domains. Hephaestus never fully recovered.
After Athena and Ares were born, there was much discussion on whether any more Olympians should be sired. The pain the gods had gone through had dimmed their desire to have more children if it would put them through such pain. After much debate, it was decided they would have a Titaness act as a surrogate. Surely Kronos’ curse would not affect his fellow Titans. Leto’s pregnancy was painful. There were moments of light and dark throughout the entire time. At the end, Artemis and Apollo were born. The twins could not be separated for a century without them both becoming frail.
Since a Titaness surrogacy was still troubled, a nymph, Maia, volunteered next. Maia spent her pregnancy feeling trapped on the mountain. She was too frail to travel but would regularly dream of wandering the ground below. When Hermes was born, her soul finally left to wander.
After an explosive argument between husband and wife that left multiple craters from lightning strikes, it was decided they would try one last time. A mortal Theban princess, Semele, was chosen to bear their child. Her pregnancy was turbulent. Dionysus was born entirely too early. He was a small and weak godling, entirely too fragile for the rough world around him. Zeus held his son close as he watched him struggle to get a full breath. Even with his domains, Dionysus was struggling more than his other children. Zeus took his son into his power to give him time to finish developing.
After Dionysus, the gods grew wary of further attempts, their resolve shaken by mounting tragedies. Demeter had a daughter, Kore, who survived birth and lived in her mother’s garden for years until she strayed too far. All that was left was some flowers in the wind. The harvest that season left mortals without food. They sacrificed more than they ate.
Poseidon attempted many times, but only Triton survived. All of his other children came out monstrous and in pain. He always held them close in a calm sea until the water reclaimed them. The storms after each loss of a child drove mortals inland for fear of the water.
Aphrodite, Hermes, Apollo, Ares, and Dionysus attempted to have children multiple times. If they were lucky, then they got to hold their child before the curse took them. Mortals lost loved ones to sickness and war. Some did not see the point in loving anymore.
Athena, Artemis, and Hestia took a vow of Maidenhood. They watched family find hope to only lose it so many times. Hades never attempted to father a child. He saw death all around him within his domain and would not bring a child into that.
Sitting around Hestia’s hearth, Zeus called all of his family near as the sun set around them. “There shall be no more children sired by us.” Zeus looked to his wife and took her hand. “We have all struggled and fought to have the children we are blessed with, but we are not the only ones affected. The mortals pray and sacrifice more than they should need to. We are to guide them, but we have been blinded by our own desires and pains.” Zeus looked out over the mountain range as light lost the daily battle to darkness. The sun had set on their desires for children. Kronos had won.
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The Fates sat around their loom with heavy hearts. The tapestry had been dulling over the years, and after Zeus’ decree, it was nearly grey. All of these once bright and vibrant threads dulled with each lost child.
“Sisters…” Their scissors were set on the table next to the muted tapestry. “They deserve better. They have fought and tried for years while maintaining their reign. Now they stop going after what their hearts desire the most in order to protect their subjects. There must be more we can do.”
Three pairs of eyes stared down the tapestry before one sister slowly rose. She turned from the tapestry and held her hand out. “Come, sisters. There is one thing we can try.”
With hands clasped, the Fates stepped away from their loom for the first time and vanished.