DISCLAIMER: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or The Heroes of Olympus series', their characters, plots, or merchandising rights. This is a non-profitable fan-based work. Please support the official release.
A/N: I've always loved the Thalia and Zeus fics. So cute. Also, ukuleles make everything better, it's a proven fact … don't argue with science, you'll hurt it's feelings- ah. Aw. You made science cry. So, anyway, R&R and above all, enjoy, because if you don't, I'll cry (and science is hogging the tissues).
Cloud Nine -n. Informal.
A state of elation or great happiness
ooOoo
The downfall of Olympus would no doubt start the minute that child was born. Not since Hades' little escapade with that di Angelo woman had the oath been called into question, and now, with a child- physical proof of his blunder - just around the corner, Zeus didn't think he could fathom the burden he had placed upon the council. What great upset.
Poseidon would be the worst; Zeus would never hear the end of it. Oh, his holier-than-thou smirk and cock-of-the-walk air would be the death of Zeus, there was absolutely no doubt. Not after this atrocity he was about to commit.
Actually, he corrected, he knew Hera was a whole other prospect to shudder about; but he just resolved that it's best to blot her out from thought all together. Her wrath was the most terrifying ordeal he would ever have to go through; far, far worse than his brother's immature snickering.
The mortal birth process was tediously drawn-out. How long would that child take? Why leave him to his clouded thoughts? It was the anticipation of it that truly tortured him. The anticipation of what would happen when reality was made of this supposed child that had been stewing about for nine months. The anticipation of what to make of what this meant for him and her. He anticipated complete disaster any way you phrase it.
Another succession of grunts and agonized groans sounded and Zeus was forcibly brought back down to earth. He wished to utter some comforting, but ultimately, it was clear why he was not the God of sentiments. "Push harder. It will come out faster."
She had that dangerous spark behind her red-rimmed eyes as she glared weakly, as if to say, I hate you so much right now.
As ridiculous as it was under such pressure, the corner of his lip tugged skyward. She always had been his stress reliever, and such a good one at that. Even better than blowing things up, if that's conceivable.
Shrugging it off, he pushed a loose golden lock behind her ear silently and extended a hand to her side for her to hold. As an act of defiance, he guessed, she ignored the offer and instead clutched the bed-frame.
Patiently, he let the offer hang in the air until, with one helpful stab from the child, she gasped and blindly reached for him, clasping his hand as tight as she could. He grimaced, watching her sob and scream with such extreme pain contorted on her face, and when her tear-filled eyes opened, she looked at him with a look she never had. One filled with reverence, and fear.
Again, his strong suit had never been sentiments, so he simply tried to convey a sturdy belief that she would be fine in his eyes, instead of his words. He even went to the great extent of flashing a reassuring smile (for about two seconds, but it was as much as he could muster) before kissing her clasped hand.
It was the most affection they had ever displayed for each other without it being a flirt or for some feat he'd preformed to grab her attention. He tried not to doubt their love, and it was easy when she was pleasuring him, but he sometimes wished she was slightly more straight foreword. Slightly, but not so much as to take away that exciting edge she somehow maintained with him.
"Ms. Grace," a disembodied voice interjected his thought. "one last push."
Last. It was over so quickly, forget tediously drawn-out. A child was in all actuality about to be his. The danger and calamity it would cause really struck home in those final moments. His mistake was about to cry out to the world, and not since the titan war had he come so close to fear. The sky god, lord of all under Apollo's sun, brought to his knees by a demigod child still being born; the situation bore no hope.
His love's pain reached a climax, in which she made the worst sound a mortal can make. Only describable in it's inhuman quality, it wasn't a scream, screech, or bark, but possibly a sort of combination of the three; the embodiment of sheer, mortal pain. He decidedly hated the sound.
In that moment, he only thought of her, and his wishes to relieve her. So, he was caught off-guard when another voice started shrieking, too, but his heart stopped it's uneasy beating a moment too long because he knew who it belonged to.
Slowly, his head swung from her pained expression to a team of medical workers crowded around a single man, the delivery boy, as he held the fidgeting source of this second wail; without control, his limbs took auto-pilot and the lord of the sky stood, "Give me the child."
Every head snapped up, and the doctor obediently, albeit hesitantly, handed lord Zeus his newborn child just after snipping the umbilical cord.
He had thought it would be awkward and unnatural to hold her, but he found quite the opposite, oddly. Even stranger, after a moment in his arms she begun to calm, as if somehow recognizing his godliness. By the time she had quelled her cry down to uneasy whimpers, her eyes had fluttered open. Orbs of mystifying electric blue dared to peek out.
And for more than a moment or two, the two studied each other curiously, unsure of what to make of the other. Zeus noted her genetics, inspecting what came from who and just how. His bright eyes and dark hair accompanying her mother's beautiful features seemed like sorcery at play; somehow too gorgeous to really be. Whether she was as perceptive, he couldn't tell, but she seemed to trying to take in absolutely everything at once. So curious.
Zeus cocked his head to a side thinking, and she followed (though she was probably just trying to get a direct view of his face). He felt his lips pull back in a smile, and even if he tried, he doubts he would've been able to stop.
Just as she had a new view to explore - a new world - from her birth he'd gained a new perspective he'd never considered. Possibly - and that being just a hypothetical maybe - she wasn't a complete catastrophe. In fact, watching her then, it was hard to believe she would ever cause any harm. Much less the downfall of Olympus.
"Sir, I think your wife would like to hold the baby," a nurse had piped up.
A jolt of fear struck through him as Zeus imagined Hera holding his new daughter. Oh, what she would do to the poor girl … or will, he added. Some way or another Hera would eventually find out his courtship with Ms. Grace had resulted in something so drastic. No matter how careful he was, no difference if he hid her in the farthest regions of the most concealed lands; Hera would find her. At the thought, he held his daughter tighter.
"Sir?" That infernal mortal had the nerve to prod him. She would later find her house burnt down, and the authorities would shrug, 'struck by lightning'.
"We wish to discuss what my daughter will be called, in private; you will leave now." Of course, no protests there. The medical team marched out in an organized, single-file formation, no ifs, ands, or buts to be heard.
Zeus turned to his lover, "They left. We are alone."
Ms. Grace gave the weakest scoff she ever made, "Uh, no duh, Sherlock."
ooOoo
"Suzy."
"Dysis.
"Amy."
"Helen."
Ms. Grace somehow managed to hit Zeus with the baby cradled in her arms, "Work with me here! I know you're, like, a zillion years old, but that doesn't mean we have to call her Crypt Keeper."
"My daughter will know her roots," Zeus insisted for the thousandth time. "She will be proud, and she-"
"Wait, how would she ever be proud with a name like Dysis? At least I'm coming up with pretty names, Dysis sounds like dish-washer soap, and Helen, well, my great aunt Mary had a dog named Helen, and it was constipated half the time. Major bad omen right there."
Zeus grunted, "It would not be for your aunt's intestinally-challenged vermin, it would be after Helen of Troy, her half-sister." Zeus dropped his gaze to the baby's face, "She reminds me of Helen, in that she is beautiful, and her eyes are mesmerizing."
"Well … okay yeah, she is pretty, but …" Ms. Grace snapped her gaze to Zeus, "she's not a Helen. Definitely not a Helen. Or a Dysis."
Zeus grumbled, "Well, what do you suggest she is, then?"
Her gaze drifted back down to her daughter, "I dunno. She's been playing with my fingers for a while, so maybe she's playful. What's playful in Greek?"
"Παιχνιδιάρικος."
She sneered in distaste, "Gross."
Zeus gave an angry, exasperated sigh, "I did not recall name picking to be so difficult."
"You're the one who's difficult, don't look at me. Besides, what's wrong with Suzy? If it's so important, she'd have a Greek middle name, but Suzy is cute."
"I'm sure the Suzys' and Amys' of this world are all just adorable, but my daughter is much more than simply good-looking. She has brought peace to my heart, and a smile to my lips; both of which so few have accomplished in all these millennia. If I do remember, the birth of a child is typically joyful, but even without that mine and my brothers' oath, I can not bring myself to believe I would have witnessed a birth that made me quite so happy, not within the span of thousands of years, anyway. Beyond even the standards of being my daughter, she is special."
Not one for sentimental moments, Ms. Grace said, "Good for you. Now, what're we gonna name her?"
Zeus hadn't reacted. He instead stayed perfectly still, delving deep within thought trying to encompass a every flickering emotion transpiring inside him into a single, conclusive name. Though, the joy of the moment was incomparable. He guessed it could possibly be equivalent to the combined joys of all those festivals and celebrations following the wars, battles, and coronations he'd been to over the millennia. Such splendour, mirth, and good cheer (and Hera wasn't a worry, what a blessing).
An idea struck.
"How do Aglaea or Euphrosyne sound to you?"
Ms. Grace gave him a sharp look, "It's the twentieth century, Zeus. We went over this."
"Then, is Thalia any better?"
"Ah- … hm." Ms. Grace actually seemed to be considering this, "Actually, not bad, for a Greek name, I guess. Why Thalia?"
"One of my other daughters," Zeus explained. "She and her sisters are minor goddesses, and I believe they preside over charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility or some hog-wash along those lines. Thalia in particular stands for good cheer, and presides over festivals and banquets, which are usually when I'm my happiest. They are known as the Charities to we Greek, but to the Romans I think they were," Zeus nearly smiled at the coincidence. "the Graces."
"Thalia Grace, named for Thalia the Grace," she mused, a small smirk playing on her lips. "I kind of like that."
Zeus let relief flow through him, "So it shall be," he took Thalia from Ms. Grace's arms. "Thalia Grace, demigod daughter of Zeus; may misery never find you, and may your victories be glorious; may your joys outweigh your sorrow, and may you live long and well. I, Zeus, lord of the sky, father of Gods and men alike, give you my blessing on this day."
Thalia yawned. Ms. Grace smiled at her, "I think he's boring, too."
"Boring sounds peaceful, don't you think? We can rejoice in our daughter's birth in secluded serenity. Also, we're done with that impossible naming-"
"Well, what about her middle name?"
Zeus stared at her in horror, "How many names must one child have?"
Ignoring his question, but relishing in his discomfort, Ms. Grace had a thoughtful look, "I was thinking … Suzy. Or Amy …"
