Chương 628: You Can't Or You Won't by Devon O'Reilly (Percy Jackson)
*I've been actively following this story for awhile on fanfiction.net app, so I thought I already recommended it. Also, why is it so hard to find this story on google search engine*
Latest update: September 28, 2024
Summary:Olympus. A legacy built on lies and atrocities. Bathed in blood yet preaching peace, amongst the realms of Heaven and Hell, what truly justifies their superiority? It's a good thing Percy's just about desperate enough to look. Post Giant-War AU.
Link:https://m.fanfiction.net/s/14377035/1/You-Can-t-Or-You-Won-t
Word count:121k
Chapters:9
The End of the Beginning (The Beginning After the End)
? ? ?, ? ? ?, ?
About A Couple Hundred Thousand Years Before Percy's Birth, Give or Take
THE HALLOWED HALLS WERE HAUNTED.
It's previous splendor tarnished with the horrible scars of battle, knee-deep pools of ichor and landfills of debris as far as the eye could see.
Magnificent see-through crystal floors dotted precariously with precious gems and walls bedecked with gold and platinum...had long since faded to a dreary, dull grey. The shells of hundreds of massive thrones pulsing with unfathomable energy and authority, now lay strewn about the dead halls in unceremonious ruins. Their magic and secrets lost forever to the void with their occupants.
Far above the floor level, past the open domed ceiling, resided a dried-out husk of a star. A long-dead gift from their Mo-no from the Source. A blessing in what should have been interpreted as a positive acknowledgement of their unification now only served as a metaphorical spit to the face after a backhanded slap.
An unimportant black hole in the backwoods of the universe.
What was once a sacred cathedral to their Council, ordained and favored by the Source of all things, a testament to their birthright as they deliberated and acted upon the nurturing and dealings of the known realms, THEIR HOME...it looked no better than a decrepit squalor house now.
Forever abandoned by grace.
No, it was more fitting to say they had been betrayed by grace.
For could you ever place the blame on the slaves for fighting against the will of an abusive Master?
For revolting in accordance to torment when pushed to the brink over and over and over again?
The black hole above him churned in displeasure at the obvious connotation, it's dormant gravitational field pulling against the ironclad hold on the ruin's single occupant's authority.
A vein throbbed on the seated being's pale forehead as his gauntlet-clad hands clawed into fists, his fury mounting with every femtosecond the persistent annoyance deigned to bother him with her self-righteous bitching.
The very idea that the deplorable wench presumed to even have a say in his domain after all he had overcome, that the being had the audacity to desecrate these halls further with her presence after all she had wrought-
"Begone Abyssal Idiot, your unwelcome company only serves as a repulsive addition to my suffering, never mind your continued existence." The hooded being growled.
The black hole's mass multiplied by itself before progressing further, the event horizon tearing through the Citadels last remaining wards like a bullet through stretched paper. A quarter of the forsaken planet had already been sucked into it's gravitational vortex, with it's sun-like heat turning the dead planet's surface into molten putty. A jolt flashed through the being's mind as he felt the rapid approach of a powerful divine being to his hideaway, yet he ignored it in favor of the petulant omnipotent nuisance before him.
The Source didn't appreciate his justified condemnation it seemed. A pity.
The being ascended from his seat and flared his power fully, his matte-black cloak billowing with the act revealing his dark-armor and sculpted build, the far-reaching nothingness from a barely-lit universe a boon to him as he challenged the One Above All brazenly. A sacrilegious act of defiance against a soulless harbinger of death, an abomination who had been nothing but an unneeded hindrance he'd wasted far too many eons trying to please.
He was the Black Demon. The Unerring Consort to the Night. He was the Primordial of Darkness.
He was Erebus.
No one, not even her, would ever have the authority to shackle him with his own birthright, not while he still drew breath.
"Perhaps my words were lost in translation Mother Dearest, I said BEGONE!" The God commanded, his voice heavy and baritone, echoing long and hard through the halls, permeated the air with authority as the power behind the words eradicated the already destroyed throne room.
Reality screeched in agony and ruptured ad infinitum, tearing itself from the Creator's grasp in earnest and banishing the omnipotent goblin for a moment while the Primordial of Darkness lounged on his battle beaten throne. Erebus looked none the worse for wear as he drummed a finger on his armrest, his legs crossed and his chiseled chin rested on his free hand languidly even as he felt the otherpestiferous liability's presence touch down at the very edge of the Citadel of the Elder Gods.
Erebus gave no mind to it, he paid no heed to the rest of the world in fact.
Khaos had accomplished her objective it seemed. The scheming hag had always possessed a knack for hidden messages and motives, perhaps she had decided he'd shrouded himself from this confrontation for far too long, maybe she truly was aggravated by his spite.
He didn't know or care either way. What was done was done, he was through running, tired of the monotony of his own self-imposed exile.
His hand drifted to the only intact throne on his immediate right, a majestic obsidian piece he'd crafted with his own two hands, glowing stars intricately etched all across the seat in the distinct swirling hieroglyphs of their favored tongue.
"μένα ουσία" Erebus murmured with crushing softness, his lips quivering with the words.
His Essence.
The Primordial had not seen his consort in a decadent age now, his only hint of her current status the muted pulsing of her throne...his progenitor had a great deal to atone for in his eyes, whether or not his own feelings mattered at all to her notwithstanding, but the foremost sin - as far as Erebus was concerned - was the loss of his very soul.
The loss of his Nyx.
"You will always be a part of me, my Heart. As I will always be a part of you, this separation is but a blink in the eternity that awaits us. Promise me, my Love, to find me always." She had begged.
Erebus shut his eyes tight at the memory, his claws penetrating his divine flesh as his ichor chilled in mourning.
His wife. His children. His realm. His kin. Everything he had so much as cherished stripped away from him viciously from the machinations of a malicious entity.
"A thousand curses upon you Mother. May your name never-"
A flash of divine light lit up the world before-
KRRAAAKOOOM
...
Even before the millennia of war, the uncultured barbarian had never had much in the way of common sense, but to willingly open fire against those walls.
The stalwart symbol of their hard-fought coalition. Their hope and dream for the future...
"Unforgivable..." Erebus growled lowly, the air wailed with static as the omnipotent being's perfect nostrils flared in fury.
The sound of the covetous imbecile's heavy footfalls echoed all around him, loud and clear, slow and measured, reminiscent of the faint rumble of thunder. The odour of ozone became overpowering as the scavenger came closer to the heart of the Citadel. Erebus held back a grimace as the brazen usurper's might made itself familiar with him, he'd been certain they were an even match an age ago, but now?
Just how many had the carnivorous butcher devoured to eclipse him so?
A shift in the council chamber's airflow.
The blight upon creation had finally arrived it seemed, and with the same signature look of superiority the tyrant had possessed since his inception. Cadet-blue locks flowed down from his accursed scalp and jaw in cloud-like puffs, decorated to the braided tips with gold and platinum beads. His pale muscled arms were bare of any sort of protection save a pair of engraved golden bracelets. He wore a simple robe the color of a dusk-dimmed sky cinched tightly at the waist, the savages arms folded over his barrel chest as he addressed him.
"Erebus."
His voice, as always, carried that same specific timbre of authority he'd painstakingly crafted under the nurturing eyes of both Erebus and Chronos himself. It was done with the pure intentions of helping the bastard in setting himself apart from the riff-raff, and yet giving the barbarian his own voice may as well have been the catalyst for their ensured destruction.
"Mongrel." Erebus gave with a raised brow in lieu of greeting, a frown marring his face at the distinct lack of any reaction from the normally hotheaded Deity, "Come to put me out of my misery? Without your eager little lapdog biting at your heels too...daring today aren't we?"
A look of hollow regret seemed to come over the Skyfather's otherwise primly features for a bit, before melting at the tail-end of Erebus' mocking.
It disgusted Erebus.
This deity hadn't an ounce of love in his being, he barely had any love for himself.
He didn't deserve to fake guilt after all he had done.
"My Consort has more important matter's to attend to at the moment. And even before The Revelation, I never much needed any effort to place you squarely beneath my feet. You would do well to recall."
"I recall plenty, Ouranos." Erebus conceded easily, putting a name to the being, "I recall our family providing you and the submissive whelp shelter, knowledge and comfort, when the First abandoned you two like the insignificant wretches you were."
The older Primordial rose from his throne slowly, the shadows in the far-corners of the room stretching and converging on his position as his inky-black eyeholes took on a more sinister tint.
"I recall Chronos and I treating you two savages with respect and fairness, giving you a place among our council as was your right, even against the warnings of the entire Coalition. Even under the threat of rebellion."
The surface of the entire planet had been coated to the ends with palpable Darkness as Erebus' monologue grew more grievous, ghostly wails and screams of nightmare echoed from the unholy pool, his physical form melded with the inky-black void leaving only an unmoving Ouranos in the enshrouded ruins.
"Ouranos..." Erebus' voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere at the same time,"I recall, with startling clarity mind you, how you were the first God to take up arms against us once the Source gave us The Revelation. How quick you were to catch Chronos, the god who raised you, unawares."
'A lot like THIS!'
A massive clawed hand erupted from right under the Skyfather's feet as the Crawling Chaos commenced the hunt. Ouranos didn't miss a beat, evading the appendage with a single backwards leap and twisting horizontally in midair as a blade of darkness sought to slice him in two, passing by his apathetic eyes in slow motion and missing his nose by a hair, Ouranos handspringed backwards with a hand before disappearing as hundreds upon thousands of obsidian spikes erupted everywhere the Primordial's feet could touch down upon.
Erebus was unamused.
Ouranos had chased Him down, invaded his refuge for little to no reason at all and mocked him. Ouranos was not escaping this fight - he wasn't leaving this planet alive – Erebus staked that promise on his very soul.
A churning mass of black whirlpools molded an uncountable array of serrated blades, a legion of essence-empowered eldritch horrors dotted the barren enclave of the Protogenoi, as the Outer entity poured everything into ending the wastrel of an immortal he'd once called brother, eons of hatred coming to a rolling boil as his avatar glared at Ouranos' elevated form.
The coward had retreated to orbit.
'Let's fix that shall we?'
From the depths did He emerge, the unfiltered horrors of darkness in all it's heart-eating, sanity-blasting malevolence. A towering monstrosity of shadows and spikes cobbled together to create a shape that vaguely passed as humanoid with massive pointed horns caressed by a crown of black thorns, visible even from out of orbit. The ground buckled before his titanic bulk, before yielding fully in the face of his divine wrath as Erebus let out a cataclysmic shriek at the Skyfather.
The God in question only tilted his head in amusement at the gathering before him, a wry smile quirking the side of his bearded lips with his sky-blue orbs crackling in challenge, Ouranos didn't bother with an Avatar, by the void, the superior bastard hadn't even bothered with armaments. The Skyfather simply flared his power as he crooked his fingers in a come hither gesture.
"Entertain me, Brother." Ouranos rumbled, much to Erebus' consternation.
No further words were exchanged as the two forces of the universe shot at each other simultaneously, sonic booms rippling in their wake as their bodies moved faster than any mortal or immortal measuring instrument could ever hope to comprehend, Ouranos all alone with nothing but a glowing supercharged fist against Erebus' unending retinue of shadows.
A single clash of their fists sent planet-ending shockwaves across the dead star system.
It was an electrifying warm-up.
Twin domes of purple-black and sky-blue energy engulfed their single patch of reality in totality before the rest of Erebus' entourage bullrushed the disoriented Primordial like a roaring black tidal wave, yet the Skyfather did not carry the title of Elder Primordial in jest. Millions of his essence-infused blades shattered like glass against the Skyfather's skin before reforming and attempting to adapt to his toughness, his monsters clawed at Ouranos body uselessly before giving up and latching onto him as Erebus pummeled the Primordial into submission, his titanic fists burning red-hot at the speed they were flying.
Erebus' vanguard evaporated upon re-entry, the overwhelming heat coupled with how much power Erebus was expending to just barely bruise Ouranos disabusing him of their continued relevance. Ouranos had regained his nerve now, his hand palming around Erebus' titanic avatar in the vague hope of finding his main body, Erebus caved his face in once more for his troubles.
They were rapidly approaching the dark pool now - Erebus'territory - it wouldn't matter how durable Ouranos was once he got the Primordial in his clutches, a sadistic wide smile split the shadow avatars 'face', terrifying Ouranos, as Erebus shook like a child in a candy store with excitement whilst his avatar delivered one final devastating smash to the Skyfather, making sure to keep the Primordial's body trapped beneath his titanic fist as they made contact with the ground.
KAABOOOOOOM
The resulting explosion made the extinction of the dinosaurs look like a suicide bombing in comparison to a thermobaric warhead, the only reason the lost planet was still standing a stalwart testament to the Primordial's legendary craftsmanship and divine authority. The light and shockwaves from the cataclysm could be seen and felt across the solar system, momentarily banishing the primal darkness of Erebus himself. Massive swathes of earth were thrown into the sky before yielding and evaporating to dust from the heat alone never mind the air pressure, countless mountaintops entire multi-continental distances away were blasted upwards as conflagrations of molten lava shot towards the upper atmosphere with the speed of rockets, the winds were set to a soundtrack of tempestuous fury with thunder and lightning a divine choir.
It was a godlike painting of the apocalypse in all it's morbid splendor.
And yet...
"Did you get all that out of your system Brother?"
The destructive winds and divine lightning shower screeched to jarring a halt, as a godly surge of air pressure blasting away the debris cloud with insulting ease revealing a massive white-hot crater in the shape of a biblical fist.
The two combatants stared at each other, knee deep in molten crag that would have had even the future Olympian gods blubbering in pain, unbothered by the air whistling like a kettle from the heat or the blizzard-like ash pouring over them in heaves.
Ouranos, much like Erebus, showed no serious signs of damage other than the burnt-off top half of his robes and a dull golden bruise on the center of his chest. Erebus was no fool, he hadn't for a second deigned to think that something like that would have been enough to finish off a Godkiller of Ouranos' caliber, but for all of that to have amounted to what may as well have been nothing to the younger Primordial...
There was a terrifying implication there he couldn't dare to tread.
"Oh, I'm just getting started, brother." His avatar growled, his unrestricted power blanketing the remnants of the planet in darkness once more.
He had the advantage, Erebus chanted in prayer, so long as the usurper remained on the shadows he had th-
Erebus couldn't even see him move.
Ouranos disappeared from the older Primordial's radar completely, reappearing right in front of him. Not in front of the avatar. Right in front of him. The Sky reared back a glowing fist of golden lightning right where his physical body was hidden, the appendage swimming in slow motion in front of Erebus' eyes before blurring through his intangible shell with a clap of thunder, the already battered earth ripping up a new crater from the impact.
Erebus' body shot across the landscape wildly, his clinking armor only selling the image of a divine pinball as he bump da bumped up and around the crater. The Embodiment of the Dark could barely form a coherent thought before his younger sibling blurred into existence again right in front of him, his hands raised above him in fists and a smile plastered on the bastard's face that only foretold pure agony for Erebus in the foreseeable future.
Ouranos tore down his powerful fists upon his skull and it was as if the skies of a thousand planets had smashed onto him in fury – oh wait – the force behind the hit actually made Erebus bounce up out of the new crater, only for Ouranos to blur above him again with his sandal-clad foot in waiting this time.
'No! Don't you dare you BAS-'
That was as far as Erebus got before Ouranos stamped onto his armored torso with blinding speed and deafening force, the power behind the strike sent Erebus tearing right through the landscape like smooth butter on a sizzling grill, ripping a new trench in the ground.
Erebus skidded across the earth for a good distance with Ouranos' foot still lodged between his chest and his torso before the future laws of friction made themselves known to them as Erebus' body came to a grinding halt, a disastrous trough left behind in his wake. Pain and dust clouded his senses and vision respectively as he moved to make heads or tails of reality, only to cease his efforts with a long-suffering howl as Ouranos' foot smashed onto his solar plexus.
The brute blew away the dust clouds with a single grunt of displeasure. Annoyance flickered through Erebus' mind at the act, the barbarian didn't even need to see him what with how firmly trapped he was underneath his foot. Ouranos had blown away the clouds to look him in the eyes and gloat, it infuriated him.
How had the gap widened so? Erebus hadn't stagnated once in the eons he'd hidden himself- the very notion was blasphemous for a Primordial of his capacity - and yet he struggled to even make Ouranos breathe in exertion, he labored to lift the foot of a being who'd been so far beneath him before it'd been pitiable. He grappled with the nerve to so much as look the Outer Entity in his crackling, disappointed eyes.
"Squarely. Underneath. My feet. Right where you belong." The Embodiment of the Skies mocked.
Erebus bared his teeth like a feral dog, he wanted to shout out at the unfairness of it all, to scream his throat raw at the dishonorable cur for his underhanded tactics and shortcuts to power, and yet...he couldn't open his mouth say a disagreeable word to the newly proclaimed 'King of the Universe', to do so would only forsake the last shred of dignity he still carried.
There would be no greater evidence of his own self-righteous hypocrisy.
For all his acidic insults, for all his mostly justified hatred for the being above him, for all the years of suffering he'd had to endure because of that accursed prophecy...nothing his younger brother had done was at all forbidden by the stipulations set by the Creator. He in truth was no better than Ouranos or Nyx for that matter, Erebus himself had executed and taken the Names and Avatars of multiple Primordials for his own gain.
The catastrophic battles he'd shared with Nachash and Kek still left unsealed breaches in the known Multiverse to this day. He'd slaughtered his way through allies and family indiscriminately for what had been millennia before finally choosing to seclude himself in their Citadel for the rest of eternity, cursing his enemies for all of time...and reminiscing on better days.
When he could look to the Primordial above him in fondness and proudly call him Brother, the simpler days he'd shared with Nyx when they melded together as the primal energy of their truest forms. And, in the very back of his traitorous mind, when he'd looked upon his progenitor with the respect and awe her very being seemed to command, the warm feeling he'd always experienced when she'd acknowledged him and his triumphs with respect.
Yet, all of that was gone now wasn't it? Soon he too would meet the exact same sentence he'd doled out to thousands from the very being he'd sworn to kill for his long-dead brother, alone and utterly powerless to do no more than close his eyes in resignation as Ouranos prepared to strike him down.
"I'm aware of how contrary my words may seem, but know I did not want things to end this way Brother." Ouranos voiced, although why he assumed Erebus even cared was anyone's guess, his foot was still planted firmly in his rib cage with his authority ensuring Erebus' physical body couldn't even attempt to dissipate into the shadows.
Erebus snorted, "You say this now of all times? After everything you've done to us. The word 'fool' and all of it's variations do your stupidity a great injustice Ouranos, of that there is no doubt."
"I offered you a place by my side Erebus! Multiple times!"
He opened his eyes and side-eyed Ouranos skeptically, "By your side or at your feet? Speak true Ouranos, because I am at a loss as to the purpose of this conversation."
"...Yield Brother, swear to forever acknowledge my reign on the Voice of Creation and I swear to you on my very Essence that together, we will triumph over this-this heresy of an omen Mother has seen necessary to force upon us."
...
Erebus committed an act he hadn't so much as entertained the thought of since his inception...he chuckled, no this was more akin to an enthusiastic guffaw. Even Nyx had never seen him this amused in the billions of years they'd accompanied each other, let alone Ouranos. It came from the belly, somehow bypassing the younger Primordial's foot, and boomed loud and obnoxiously clear from his throat.
Tears were prickling at the edge of his vision, yet he could see Ouranos' flabbergasted expression all too clearly.
"Oh the vindictive irony," He wheezed through childish giggles, "Who would ever have assumed...hehe...that the legendary God-Butcher...hahahaha...the all-powerful lifetaker, the great Ouranos would be so terrified of his OWN MORTALITY...HAHAHAHA!"
Ouranos repaid his open disrespect with the punishment it deserved, another earth-cratering stomp put a firm end to Erebus' laughing fit.
"I would remind you well of your position Brother," Ouranos growled, "while you yet draw breath."
"Does that make you feel powerful little brother." He croaked in a mocking voice.
"Curse you Erebus, take this with the seriousness it portends! Ananke herself has confirmed that Mother spoke true that day."
"Was this before or after you lobotomized and devoured her Mate? And if Fate itself decrees our 'fates' as true, what makes you think I can help you"
"It matters little!"
Was that in answer to the first question or the second?
"You and I both know destiny is never set in stone, any Fate can be nudged accordingly to a desired outcome. Only incompetent fools deal in absolutes, a true warrior can and should always look for a better alternative. You taught me this."
"And you think this is in anyway a better alternative?" Erebus demanded, his temper rising,"You destroyed Chronos fool. You butchered the rest of the Ogdoad. Severed the Kotoamatsukami eternally from every single known plane of existence, killed thousands of Primordials in your selfish need for salvation and yet you're still no closer to it than when you started this madness."
"I couldn't leave it to chance, you know what the Others were like. How much they valued themselves and despised me, how many would have jumped at the opportunity to sacrifice me to save themselves? And let's not forget about the Ελευθ-"
"I DON'T CARE!" Erebus roared, all traitorous thoughts of fondness banished from his mind the more he looked at the selfish cannibal before him, "Do not complain to me about the consequences of your own foolish choices when you killed the one being who would've given everything to help you. You should be ashamed of yourself Skyfather, 10,000 years of war and devastation across reality, and yet the fear of a snot-nosed brat surpassing you haunts and shackles you to this very day."
"I'm fated for a death that leaves me in a vegetative state for all of eternity!" Ouranos stepped off of him as he held Erebus by the collar of his armor tightly both hands, his once-confident eye's wide and pleading with fear, "I beg. I BEG OF YOU BROTHER, HELP ME ONCE MORE! YOU'RE MY ONLY HOPE NOW!"
Erebus stared a hole into the pathetic deity's eyes. Ouranos' cheeks were flushed golden and he looked as if he was about to cry, quivering like a bush in a thunderstorm, and yet Erebus felt...nothing. For the first time in years he felt neither animosity to this deity he'd once called brother nor pity for his plight.
Nothing at all but a cold indifference.
After all did you feel anything for the unfortunate strangers you passed by on the street when you yourself were struggling?
But, he had a chance here to leave this dead planet alive after so long, to reconcile with his family once more and right his past wrongs. Not all of the Protogenoi had met a tragic end in this war, and most of his children had managed to come out alive under the fierce protection of Nyx. All he had to do was agree to Ouranos' single demand and he'd be free to live once more.
An oath to respect his reign?
It was a question of how many endless loopholes he could exploit from such a flimsy promise.
Erebus should take this deal. It would be the wise thing to do, living to fight another day.
Nyx would want him to do so.
"Promise me, my Love, to find me always."
...
'I apologize my dear...but it appears I won't be able to keep that promise.'
"You want Hope? Seek Elpis, that is if you haven't destroyed her already. Spare me your grovelling Ouranos, there's nothing in my essence left for you anymore. Not love, not animosity. Not even pity. Nothing."
Ouranos' eyes shattered along with his soul at his words, his head bowing and his hair shadowing his face as his fists shook with fury.
The stench of ozone magnified, the golden sheen of a divine lightning bolt smattered itself over Erebus' divine pale features, the air buzzed in anticipation as the surrounding area's heat intensified, his scorched black hair stood on end as the taste of metal and static slathered itself over his tongue.
Images of his loved ones blurred through his vision in fast forward, Aether, Hemera, Chronos, Pontus, Thalassa, Hydros, Tartarus, Ananke and thousand's more, even scarred little Akhlys made an appearance.
And the final image...the most important one. A pale matronly looking woman with the hair the color of an inky-black midnight sky and pale golden eyes shadowed by a star-ridden veil.
...
This...this was the end for him.
He wouldn't be able to see them again. To see his family ever again, the thought was incomprehensible to a being so long-lived as him and yet it was his present reality.
'...I loathe you Περσεύς επιμένως, truly I do. May you never find satisfaction in your exploits. Suffering even a trillionth of what my kin have had to endure because of you, will never even be close to punishment enough for you.' Erebus cursed once more, the air shifting rapidly in passage as the bolt zoomed towards him.
A foreboding bell tolled in the distance as his curse traveled and festered across space and time, searching – nay, hunting – for the opportune moment to deliver it's payload.
And then there was Light.
Y*C*O*Y*W
? ? ?, Mount Olympus, Far above the plains of Thessaly, Greece
Thousands of Years Before Percy's Birth
THE CITY OF THE GODS WAS GLORIOUS
Mount Olympus, βηλὸς θεσπέσiος.
The Heavenly Threshold.
It was an even more awe-inspiring sight than his older brother's tall tales had ever been able to portray, this Holy City.
The journey had been an arduous one for young Marturia of Kephallonia, by the blessed Gods, the voyage over the Aegean from Kephallonia to Phokis alone almost had his blasphemous heart surrendering to despair, Great Mother preserve him!
And yet, as if guided by the divine. As if blessed by the almighty Lord of the Earth himself, he had soundly triumphed. He was here after months and months of travel, he had crossed the Aegean and overcome seas monsters the size of mountains, outmaneuvered legendary bandits numbering in the thousands - each with the strength of ten men mind you - and discovered the pleasures of the flesh upon a lone hill underneath a mighty oak tree, amid the waning twilight view of a star-ridden night with a fair-eyed princess of little renown, the sprawling great forests of Arkadia their backdrop.
Marturia nodded his head smugly in self-satisfaction, yes that was a legendary tale he could spin for his brothers and sisters once he returned home, the Gods willing.
The young boy - no older than 14 - broke through the last of the moisture-ridden clouds, his freshly washed baby-blue chiton drenched and his teeth chattering, yet nothing could wipe off the stretching excited grin on his handsome sun-kissed face as his foot touched down upon the last of the great steps.
Marturia closed his eyes in anticipation and took a deep breath - marveling at the pure freshness of the air so far up here - before pumping his hands into the air and yelling in absolute euphoria, the random mortals side-eyeing him in skepticism of his sanity soundly ignored. A mere glimpse of the fabled city had his jaw dropping to his feet in awe with tears welling at the edges of his eyes, he was not worthy of this. No one was.
He cursed his lack of talent in the arts. To never be able to illustrate such a view had to be a cardinal sin, yet he doubted even the River Lethe would ever be able to erase the sacred image from his memory.
The summit was the first thing his eyes were drawn to, snow-covered and shining brilliantly beneath the glorious light of the great Lord Helios, while the fabled city of the redeemers melded itself with the mountainside with natural grace and beauty, it could have been designed by no other immortal than the all-knowing Lady Athena. Great verdant trees with towering marble and gold palaces stretching high into the sky were spread across the city, their arrangement intended to make one stop and gape for hours on end from the polished columned porticoes of the general colonnade to the simple gilded terraces of the central plaza.
However, all of that ogling came to a halt as he was jostled out of his staring - rather roughly might he add - by an armored mountain of a man. Marturia was a young adolescent of average build and stature, he'd never once been passable as a warrior or hunter not even as a farmer and his older brother's had teased him relentlessly for it. Yet, the man before him made even his father look like an amusing, squeaking child in comparison.
A hooded, black cloak concealed most of his figure, but the man's unkempt black beard and crimson-no blood-red eyes stood out like a gadfly sting.
"I-uh...my apologies, good sir. It seems I should pay more heed to my surroundings." He tried timidly, dreading how many knots the giant would leave him in before he was satisfied.
The 'man' merely glanced at him and yet, all frail Marturia knew was bloodshed and terror, blood pooled from his scalp as the boy tried to claw his brain out of his very skull. Images of the horrors of war, the pillaging of nations and their citizens, the pain-filled howls of war-heroes as they endured agony at the hands of the Fields of Punishment eroded his sanity with a vengeance.
Marturia couldn't tell you how long he laid there screaming his lungs out before he lost the ability to draw air into himself, he could feel blood leaking out of every orifice on his head while his knees buckled in finality. The pain was endless and absolute, the brutality of the imagery only intensifying as the seconds blurred into what felt like hours.
'Someone,' He prayed to no one's answer, 'Someone...please-'
He couldn't even finish his pleading before his mind was torn asunder by an even more horrific memory playing out in his mind, or was it a vivid glimpse to the Tapestry of Fate?
Marturia stood on the shores of an ocean of blood, his bare feet sinking into the grey sands of an ashen beach, a seemingly infinite expanse of it on both sides of him. He paid no heed to it or the tears trailing down his cheeks as he saw the world bathed in fire and brimstone, the silhouette of Olympus so unlike the heavenly spectacle it had embodied before.
It looked cursed.
A blood red moon burning in the background as blizzards swam through the air.
He saw more though. A great slaughter as his idols, his Gods, came down upon the world of man in a storm of vengeful fury and divine metal, entire nations no better than insects on a spiderweb before their might.
The scent of death and decay grew too overpowering before the earth trembled and shattered in surrender, waves the size of mountains surged throughout the lands and washed away mutilated corpses and the living bodies of mortal's who'd long since been driven insane by the whole experience.
Nothing had survived.
Nothing of their culture and nothing of their genocide. The world was a blank slate once again. Barren and free of their 'taint' forever. Another age come and gone with no hope of salvation or redemption for mankind as the divine monsters sat down on their lofty thrones once more.
The cockroaches already an afterthought.
"...Enough of that you fool, have you forgotten our location?!"
"...do not insult me...deserves to know..."
"...patience..."
"Their destruction is imminent, what we shall do to them...it is not right Father."
The pain and visions vanished instantly, the blood-red hue that had tainted his consciousness faded to the edges before evaporating altogether to reveal polished marble. Marturia could faintly hear bits and pieces of a heated conversation from right in front of him, but he didn't dare to raise his head from the ground for fear of a repeat of that-that agony.
A soft hand clamped down on his shoulder gently and it was all Marturia could do to not run away screaming like a lamb, the appendage drifted down to his chin and tipped it the owners hidden face. From the dainty curves of their jaw and overall lack of hair on their chin, Marturia concluded the person was female...or a concernedly effeminate male. It begged the question though, what would a woman be doing with such a suspicious band of men?
Their group was a quartet, all 4 of them dressed in long flowing cloaks with thick hoods. Behind the woman on her left was a portly-looking man with a bushy black beard that seemed to smoke and hiss with tiny wildfires, his left shoulder was lower than his right too, so he seemed to be leaning even when he was standing upright.
Opposite of the man was the crimson-eyed menace, his beefy gauntlet-clad arms folded over his barrel chest and an annoyed frown affixed to his face, although his eyes carried a hint of sympathy in them.
'Fat lot of good that did me.' Marturia remarked acidly.
Directly behind the woman hunched a wizened old hermit of a fossil given breath, with skin so wrinkled and flabby the flesh from his forehead drooped and shielded his eyes. His head reminded Marturia of a boiled egg that had been allowed to sit and rot for a week. And his face...the man's fleshy nose was webbed with red capillaries, the most vibrant color on his his visible body. His long grey beard appeared coarser and greasier than a mongrel's coat of fur, with his stormy-blue robes latching onto his frail figure for dear life. The fossil's spine had more curves on it than a fishhook, his bony neck level with his rickety old walking stick.
Marturia struggled to hide his disgust for the relic, he was by no means a vain person nor did he hold any sort of animosity for the...foreign concept of actually growing old, but this?There was a difference between aging and living through your lease on life naturally, and the parasitic clinging the old man was holding onto his life with. It reeked of paranoiac narcissism bordering on self-destruction, the fossil was more akin to a sedate zombie than a living man. Di immortales the smell alone was all kinds of toxic, Marturia would rather die young than live to ever torture himself this badly for anything.
"That can be arranged maggot." A scratchy voice wheezed.
"...What?"
The 'fossil' looked him in the eye - as much as his neck could allow - with a scowl, "Be grateful I have more pressing matters to attend to than to deal with your insolence. Blur."
A lone stormy blue eye flashed his way just before Marturia could even think to apologize and all he saw was blackness for several slow-going seconds. He regained his faculties a few beats later with a head-splitting headache to boot, feeling like a part of his brain had been scraped away and dumped in a landfill. He remembered crossing through a garden a few yards away and then...nothing, how on Earth had he gotten here?
A wide, polished stone archway crested a marble path above him as it trailed right to the center of the peak, where the single largest palace he had ever seen – and would ever see – stood in radiance, the shining afternoon sun bouncing of the domed golden ceiling and nearly blinding him.
The Throne Room of the Olympian Gods.
Marturia remembered with vivid clarity the innocent wonder simply hearing about the council room from his mothers star-lit stories had suffused into a much younger him. The stories said the Throne Room had housed great and varied seats of boundless power for the Greek Gods for thousands of years now, having stood tall against all ordeals and tribulations since the Age of the Titans.
The very Heart of Greece, the halls had been a constant since the end of the 'Golden Age' of Man to the current 'Silver Age' and would continue to live on everlasting for many more years to come, of that he had no doubt.
The adamantine doors were engraved to the frames with multiple instances of the Gods' tributes to Nike. The King of the Gods a welcome constant in majority of those victories, with his silver pronged symbol of power. No mortal had ever been granted entry to the chambers that anyone knew of, and Marturia was doubtful any mortal would ever be worthy enough to ever cross the holy wards to the true legacy of the Elder Cyclopes. Not without forfeiting their very souls.
The doors were barred even now with floating golden swords bathed in phosphor-green fire, a palpable warning to all to remember their stations. Marturia let out a low sigh of disappointment at the missed opportunity, but shook his head from side to side at the blatant blasphemy.
Who was he to question the decisions of the Gods themselves? To dare put to thought such sacrilege? He let out a prayer for forgiveness and one for mercy to ever-benevolent Hestia, the average mortal would have had his tongue cut out for such insolence back on Kephallonia never mind right at the home of the very Gods.
Marturia walked past parks and statues, bathhouses and clear, glimmering lakes transparent to the very bottom. Hundreds of great marble temples attended to by mortal priests and priestesses, each of them bearing the symbol and ceremonial robes of their patrons. A massive amphitheater designed for even bigger bodies, boomed with laughter throughout the city as radiant Thalia, Muse of Comedy, entertained the masses, both mortal and immortal with casual grace.
This was paradise.
A dream that he, and thousands of young children, one day hoped to actualize, to live under the rays and protection of the Gods, surrounded by their benevolent glory and feasting at their tables. He didn't care if they didn't see him as an equal, he couldn't expect them to. Marturia was content to just watch them exist, to just live in the orbit of these beautiful, powerful beings.
They were his faith. His ideal. His saviors and protectors, what could they ever owe him?
Young Marturia drifted between the rowdy crowds of mortals nimbly, dancing past tourists, nature spirits and...merchants, he'd been fleeced one too many times on this journey. The less said about his views on the pestiferous leeches the better. In fact, the only reason he'd even managed to gain access to the mountain was because this particular celebration was open to all to participate. It was to be the swearing in of the newest and final Olympian God.
The Legacy of the Gods.
Ζαγρεύς Μακάριος
Zagreus the Blessed.
Very little had been made widespread information about the newborn God other than their parentage, yet the mystery behind the legend in the making only added to the infant godling's allure. The babe had barely seen a single year of life and yet the Fates themselves had requested(= read demanded) that all denizens of the known Greek world should come together on the mountain to witness the inauguration of the young Lord Zagreus.
Young Marturia shivered in awestruck excitement even while the embers of jealousy sparkled faintly within him, what caliber of God must one be to have the blessing of the Moirai of all Immortals? He had missed the naming ceremony back in Atlantis – like he'd had a chance in Hades to make that trip – and sworn then and there he wouldn't miss the indoctrination up on Olympus, which was why he found himself here today.
He broke through the sea of gaudily-dressed mortals to the innermost ring of the central plaza, just in time too as the groaning brassy notes of massive trumpets shook the world.
'They're here.' Marturia thought with fanatic glee.
The air pervading the mountain hummed and crackled with power as the blackened clouds swirled overhead, thunder revved, the earth pulsed in anticipation with small pebbles rising slowly into the air along with his chocolate-brown hair. Sets of spiritual boulders attached themselves to the shoulders of every single mortal and immortal in the plaza, an unspoken message making itself known to the hearts of everyone with half a mind to heed.
Prostrate Yourselves.
It was simple. Eloquent and to the point.
Hubris would have had to be your daily devotional to ignore the compulsion.
The weather-clearing explosion served as a panacea to the affliction however, with the poor bastards barely even getting the opportunity to scream. The stench of charred flesh and ash of the arrogant fools hung heavy in the air, even as the entire mountain went dead-silent. You'd have thought Marturia's skull to be fused with the ground with how hard he was kissing it, the plaza was rife with unease as the Olympian's made their presence felt among them.
Marturia's skin felt like it was lit ablaze under the probing gaze of a thousand suns, sweat beaded down his brow and pooled at his back in gallons until the broiling ceased instantaneously, his back and clothes were dry once more as the overwhelming pressure receded...like it had never even happened. He wasn't given the opportunity to ponder the phenomena before his ears were blessed by a chorus of angels, heaping praises to their divine overlords.
And then...He spoke. His Eminence. The Lord of the Earth.
Ἐννοσίγαιος, βαρύκτυπος, ποντομέδων.
Ἄναξ Ποσειδῶν
The King, Poseidon.
"Rise, exalted children of Greece, and Rejoice." Lord Poseidon intoned ethereally, the power in his voice a steadfast pillar in the middle of a tempestuous sea, washing over him like the life-giving rays of the midday sun, "For your Gods are with you."
Slowly, cautiously, Marturia raised his head from the gravel, pinpricks of pain shooting through him as the breeze blew onto a rough wound on the center of his forehead, it was ignored however as his eyes bore witness to perfection incarnate.
Huddled together in a unified group upon a wide raised dais...stood the Gods in all their ephemeral glory.
Bright-eyed Athena stole his breath away first, her stoic face curtained by her luscious, midnight-black hair confined under a golden helmet. She was dressed in a flowing ashen peplos held in place by a blinding breastplate, her fabled spear and shield held semi-casually as her eyes flitted around the gathered crowd in caution.
Marturia didn't get to question what could ever worry the War Goddess before his nostrils were assaulted by a heavenly mixture of vanilla, marjoram and honeysuckle.
Marturia nearly levitated at the scent, his mouth salivating at the captivating sight of the Goddess of Love, Heavenly Aphrodite. Dressed in a flowing, sleeveless peplos, woven from calla lilies with pink accents and numerous gold bangles around her wrists. The goddess' face remained unseen however, by a frilled golden fan. Only her wavy red hair and alert blue eyes remaining visible.
By her side was Lady Hera, her dark purple hair cascading in a long braid down her left side as a simple sapphire-encrusted circlet sat upon her head. She wore beautiful golden armbands and a stunning necklace adorned with precious gems and baubles. However, her features were stern, her dark-blue eyes tense, while her knuckles remained bone-white against the shaft of her lotus-flower topped scepter.
Golden Apollo stood to Aphrodite's left, wearing a vibrant golden chiton held at the waist by a simple cord and a laurel wreath about his golden curls. His arms were held captive by his giant golden bow, his demeanor more than a little worried as he glanced about the crowd.
Fleet-footed Hermes stood by his half-brother in support, his winged helmet glinting in the sun, clad in a similar white chiton to Apollo but with the addition of golden bracers, greaves and a weighty breastplate. The God of Messengers' mousy-brown curls poked from underneath his helmet playfully, shadowing his eyes from the masses whilst his adamantine Caducceus rested parallel to the ground.
Far away from her radiant brother, stood Far-aiming Artemis. Her wild mane of auburn locks split into 3 thick braids and came in cascades down her back, a tiny silver diadem further enhancing her already pure angelic features. There were no sorts of ostentatious embellishments on the childlike Goddess' body save a simple silver chiton cinched at the waist with a thick hunting belt, her dainty hand rested on the pommel of a large hunting knife. Lady Artemis' fabled hunting bow stood parallel to the Goddess, 6 feet of enchanted pure silver forged personally by the Elder Cyclopes themselves in the depths of Tartarus if the stories were to be believed.
Flame-bearing Hestia shadowed the younger Goddess protectively, a hand wrapped around the childlike Deity's form with all the subtle ferocity of a Mother Bear shielding her own young. The Goddess of the Hearth was layered in plain, modest maroon robes, her oak-brown hair framing her face in ringlets while a linen shawl covered her eyes.
By the Hearth Goddess' side perched her Majesty. Beholden Consort of her Lord, Poseidon.
Ordained Queen of all the Gods and holy mother to the successor of the Gods, Zagreus.
Her Lady Demeter Panakhaia.
The Goddess had long blond hair the color of ripe wheat and wore a bright green dress with a dark cape, which gave her the appearance of fresh plant shoots breaking through fertile earth whenever she moved. She wore a crown of woven corn leaves and adornments of poppies and had a sweet distinctive scent of a rainstorm over a field of jasmine. Her annoyed scowl melded with her warlike figure as she twirled the legendary golden scythe of The Crooked One idly, the power the weapon gave off only secondary to her King Consort's trident.
In the center of the gathered congregation stood Lord Poseidon, his glowing silver trident a miniature sun for all the divine power it managed to casually exude, Marturia didn't doubt for a second a single touch of the sacred artifact would be enough to wash away the blood of the lowest of mortals, and replace it with divine ichor.
Lord Poseidon looked to be dressed for war, the God wore an intricate piece of scale mail engraved in runes and oceanic iconography, ornate bracers and greaves sculpted in the imagery of roaring leviathans adorned his bulging sun-kissed forearms and shins. A crown set with pearls and sapphires sat atop his midnight-black locks creasing his scrunched-up forehead even further, Lord Poseidon's sea-green orbs were harder than marble as he crossed his trident before his Queen Consort and child protectively.
The Child.
Zagreus.
Marturia had been expecting a whole slew of things from the young godling with all the hearsay that had overtaken their world. Hearsay ranging from a newborn still suckling on their mother's teat to a full grown God with the raw power to upend mountains with a twitch of it's fingers, and an ethereal beauty that could put even Fair Aphrodite to shame.
To paraphrase, Marturia knew well and true that the masses were full of horse shit.
And he'd tempered his expectations enough to sift through the blatant idiocy and tall tales somewhat.
And yet?
Lord – Lady? – Zagreus was easily the most beautiful thing Marturia had ever laid his eyes upon.
Snow-white hair flowed down gently to the godling's ankles like a serene spring in the peak of summer, smooth golden skin not too dissimilar from the fire-gold glow of the dawn drew in his gaze as well those of the entirety of the plaza. Dazzling lilac eyes the color of twilight shadows cast upon a moonlit cove created an ethereal fusion of beauty and unease, a hypnotic magnetism that transcended the ordinary. Bedecked in unblemished gold and the purest of white, the young God weaved the tapestry of innocence and sovereignty so casually it appeared almost paradoxical...the other Olympians looked like average mortals in comparison.
Yes, Lady Aphrodite also fell into that demographic.
Marturia still hadn't been expecting the bull horns though.
Semi-flat, forward-pointing impaler's about a foot long, with black strips extending from their center towards the tips. Or the fact that the godling chose to appear no older than 10 years of age.
As a matter of fact...Zagreus didn't appear all that enthused to even be here for his own coronation, the godling's eyes were more so resigned with his lips set into a bored thin line. Zagreus' tiny hands were folded before his thighs like they'd been bound by metaphysical cords, and he stood so still Marturia would have likened the godling more to an attractive statue than a living being.
Yes, Zagreus was the most beautiful thing Marturia had ever seen in his life, of that there could be no doubt. But therein lied the problem most people couldn't seem to grasp...the godling looked to be no better than a trophy to be admired and paraded around than a person.
This was no God-King, it was barely even a conscious individual.
This was a living puppet. And he used term 'living' loosely.
"By the Earth, Sky and Sea, he is perfect." Marturia heard from...somewhere.
"Just a glance, I require only a glance from him to be sated for the rest of my days."
He took a glance behind to where he knew that voice had come from only to find nothing at all out of the ordinary, the masses were still frozen in awestruck reverence of Lord Zagreus to put to words anything other than hur durrr. And yet...
"Bah! She is no better than a dry leaf in autumn, this is to be our new Lord? This will be the end of Olympus."
"Poseidon must have lost one too many brain cells in that bout with Zeus if he truly believes I will ever bend the knee to this premature whelp. She barely looks conscious!"
"When will the festivities commence already, I'm famished."
What in the accursed Pits was happening to him today? The gaps in his memory, getting cooked alive in his mind and now what? He had voices in his head? Was it the berries? Was he losing his wits because of those mountain berries?
A heartwarming childish giggle echoed out in his mind...coming right from the dais.
Lord Zagreus was...smiling.
Lord Zagreus was smiling at him.
At low-born Marturia.
At 'we-never-expected-you-to-make-it-past-infancy' Marturia.
The idea was reality-skewing to the young man. That a God so blessed, so many light-years above his worthless station could ever receive anything other than patronizing amusement from him. Reality shattered like a rock through glass from right underneath his feet as Zagreus flicked away his father's trident with ease and meandered his way through the masses to Marturia.
Poseidon went slack-jawed in confusion, "Zagreus? My son, what are you doing?"
The King of the Gods remained ignored however, as Zagreus' gold-laced sandals clicked and clacked through the silent plaza. Marturia looked to be the only thing that mattered before the young God's eyes, that same serene beatific smile plastered squarely on his face even as the rest of the world faded to white for the two of them.
And yet, the thoughts of thousands upon thousands of mortals and immortals chattering like songbirds in springtime right in the center of his mind's eye, was a relentless headache for young Marturia all the same.
"Eeeek! He's coming my way! Be calm. Be calm Aglaia. It wouldn't do for you to turn him away needlessly from desperation."
Poor Aglaia's shattered expression as Zagreus walked past her with nary a glance would have been a divine comedy that would have had even Thalia roaring with laughter...if not for the malicious intent of one particular group individuals right after it.
"He's broken off from the rest of them milord, should we-"
A stormy voice growled in annoyance, "Absolutely not Thetis! There are too many variables to account for in a disadvantageous space such as this. The Fates could never deign to be so merciful. The entire purpose of this journey was to investigate the wretched whelp, our purpose remains unchanged until I declare it so."
"But Father-"
"Do not test me Ares. Your arrogant foolishness has cost us enough today already, you need only take a gander at my accursed brother to be aware of the fact. Destroying the brat now would have been a death sentence even without all of the 'Olympian Council' on high alert. Look at Aphrodite of all goddesses! We'd have had the fury of all of Olympus on our necks by now were it not for the machinations of Hekate."
This was...this was sacrilege. Marturia was a compliant witness to the makings of an Olympian coup, the disastrous implications attached to such an attempt only got more earth-shaking as the seconds ticked by. Marturia's honor all but demanded deliver such treacherous motives to the Gods' notice – never mind his personal fear for his own life – yet, he found his limbs placed firmly in his pious stance, Zagreus' lilac orbs pinning him down to the ground with naught but a look.
Did the God want to die?
"Ares' stupidity and the zeal he pushes for to never fail to disappoint us with it has never been in question Father, but he may have a point here. At the very least we could seize the boy and be gone before the other's could even react. Why wait?
"Malaka, you've got some balls talking about me like that so close to my fist Cripple." Ares bit out acidly.
"CEASE YOUR NEEDLESS BICKERING BEFORE I TOSS YOU OFF THIS MOUNTAIN YOU INFANTILE FOOLS!" The 'Father' roared in fury and Marturia's brain did consecutive backflips within his skull while his lifeblood poured out of his nostrils in buckets, "We will not incite war on this day. End. Of. Discussion."
Which was just as well too Marturia's brain had already waved the white flag at cease, He was just about ready to collapse and bleed out on the gravel before Lord Zagreus held him up, his once cheerful smile slightly strained yet dazzling all the same. Marturia couldn't help but remark on how soft yet firm the God's hands were, he couldn't hold back the warm feeling that welled up within his chest at his close proximity to the God, Zagreus just felt so...coherent, if that made any fucking sense.
So pure and consistent even without uttering a single word was the immortal before him. How could the puppet from earlier and the God above him even be the same person?
Zagreus chuckled easily, "I assure you I am," His voice...Gods his voice flowed as smooth as warm honey and light as a summer breeze, soothing his aches and strains like a dip in a misty hot spring.
The God placed a chaste kiss on Marturia's forehead and the young man's very soul knew only euphoria, his heart soaring ever so high at the sight of Zagreus' luscious bloodstained lips. Not even Almighty Poseidon could ever hope to drag him down from his high. His former head injury knitted itself in an instant as the lingering pinpricks of pain faded to the background.
"ZAGREUS?!" Lord Poseidon roared while the other Olympians remained frozen in various – and blasphemously comedic – positions of muted shock.
Apollo fucking swooned.
Marturia had an inkling to the feeling his ass was grass at this point and Zagreus' coy smirk only grew wider at the thought, a mischievous gleam enhancing his perfect features as his purple orbs twinkled in amusement.
"Greetings friend, may I ask of your name please?"
Was the God truly asking him?
"M...marturia of Kephallonia my Lord?"
That sinfully enchanting giggle relieved itself from the God's vocal cords once more, the melodic sound shivering Marturia to his core. His eye's were swimming in his head from a disturbing influx of bright colors and he could neither confirm nor deny that his tongue had flopped out like an excited puppy from his mouth.
"Are you asking me or telling me Marturia of Kephallonia?" The God teased casually...like Marturia was simply an estranged friend to him and not an amusing ant in comparison.
The thought invigorated him.
"Marturia of Kephallonia my Lord."
Zagreus nodded slowly as he blessed him with a content smile, "Well, Marturia of Kephallonia, allow me to reintroduce myself appropriately. I am Zagreus of Olympus, son of my Lord Father Poseidon and Lady Mother Demeter, Tenth seat of the Olympian Council and the Destined Companion to Creation."
The silence at the final proclamation was loud, the world may as well have held it's breath and forgot how to execute the action while the Olympian Gods shook their heads in resigned annoyance, and yet the only God that mattered to Marturia as far as he was concerned merely stretched an inviting hand towards him in support.
Marturia took the devil by the horns.
Zagreus smiled as he pulled the young man to his feet with ease, "God of-well you'll find out soon enough won't you? Welcome to Olympus, my friend. I happen to be well acquainted with her master."
Y*C*O*Y*W
Link:https://m.fanfiction.net/s/14377035/2/You-Can-t-Or-You-Won-t
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