Summary: They were gods with power at their fingertips, supposed to protect the kingdom: but they were bored. So they decided to play a game using humans as pawns. As a punishment, they're sent to the world Below to learn the value of life with the help of miniature guardians.
Warning: This is a very serious story. There are deaths. The characters will be quite OOC and at times very unlikeable. Fortunately, none of the SC cast are raped: not Amu, not Utau, not Rima, no, not even Tadase. Tragic pasts? They're friggin' GODS! (Understand that this is me still being fed up that so many 'serious' stories have tragic parent-deaths or main character rape.)
Pairings: Amuto, Rimahiko, Kutau... considering Kaiya.
A/N: If you're reading this because you want something light, this is not for you. I'm trying a darker style with this story. The chapters will be longer but updates will rare. This is basically a side project for when my creative juices grind to a standstill for my other ongoing fiction or if I'm in the mood. Oh, and I've basically combined elements from Norse and Roman/Greek mythology for my convenience and made up gods to suit the characters. This is fiction, I'm an atheist, I mean no disrespect to anybody's religion. Now I'll stop with this dragging author's note and let you read. Oh, and if people become too confused (I'm aware that this is kinda hard to follow) just ask me and I can PM a summary or post one up with the next chapter.
Disclaimer: Shugo Chara is not mine. Neither are most of the gods. Christmas isn't mine either. Oh, I thought that I was just supposed to state the complete obvious here.
Down to Earth
Chapter 1: Justice
There was rebellion in Asgard, abode of the gods.
Odin, God of Wisdom, Poetry and Magic, had disappeared centuries ago in the non-death that gods suffered. To the kingdom's consternation Hermes, the former Messenger of the Gods and Protector of Travellers, Thieves and Merchants, had taken over in his stead. As gods, most of the other contenders for the throne were unhappy with the decision and, as gods, had resolved to sort things out the old-fashioned way – through war. However, the throne was protected by more than just the King's authority: nine gods, each several millennia years young, stood stoutly as the Defenders of the Throne. They fought for the kingdom and made sure that the Law was upheld.
Or they used to, a long time ago.
However, this was not the time to think of such details. Advancing quickly was a legion of unsatisfied minor gods with little authority, serving the major gods who had promised them power and glory. It did not take much to motivate a god to go to war. Gods did not die, after all, even if they could feel enough pain to black out for decades.
Opposing the army were eight figures dressed all in white. In contrast to the battle-ready, charging mass, they lounged around unworriedly at the gates of Valhalla as though it was below their dignity to acknowledge that a war was even taking place.
One of these figures was reading a book. The glasses perched on his nose complemented the sharp eyes that they framed. His dark green hair was tied up so that it would not hinder him in any way. As the attackers drew closer yelling their battle cries, he finally looked up and closed the book with a loud snap. Then, suddenly, there was no book anymore but a long sword fashioned in a style similar to the human katana.
His eyes narrowed as he hissed irritably, "She is not here yet."
One of his companions shrugged in response. "She will be here at exactly the right moment. You know she will." She sighed and sat up from where she had lain, tracing shapes in the air. Shoulder-length hair the pink of dusk fell freely around her face, highlighting the bright gold eyes that held nothing but boredom. She slowly rose to her feet and yawned before casting a dismissive glance over the army. Their load roaring irked her to no end. These weren't gods but barbarians, yelling their heads off as they lofted their weapons.
"It has been too long since our last battle. I am probably a little bit rusty," said another of their group while tightening the twin blonde pigtails at either side of her head. Her violet eyes watched the enemy eagerly, excitement carved into every line of her face. She licked her lips, lovingly fingering the silver guns hoisted at her waist. She was one of the modern gods that believed in embracing whatever harebrained machinery the humans cooked up next. She'd once giggled that humans never ran out of ways with which to kill each other.
The being beside her shot her a sceptical look. He brushed some blue locks away from his eyes, which mirrored the colour of hers. "You, sister? Impossible." He had no visible weapon. Instead, he held a bow and violin. In the face of enemies armed with swords and axes and the knowledge that there was no way they could die, it should have appeared utterly worthless. Instead, the instrument seemed to emit a power that no mere blade could match.
"There has to be over a hundred and fifty gods in there," commented one of their other companions. Unlike the others, he had wrapped a strip of khaki cloth around his head which matched his lazy olive eyes, further messing up his auburn hair and giving him a rakish appearance. A hunting knife gleamed in his hand. "How many do you think you will be able to take down?"
"Now, now, let's be fair," admonished a blond male. His hair was meticulously combed and his blood-red eyes were guarded as he took the scene in. A quiver of crimson arrows was strapped to his back. After twanging his bow he frowned as though he were discontented and reached around and cranked the bow tighter. For anybody else, god or otherwise, that would have been an impossible feat. "If there are approximately a hundred and fifty gods then that should be... how many each?"
"Sixteen to seventeen," the first one spoke absently. "Look, she's here."
The golden gates opened just enough to let one person slip through before swinging shut again. A small girl walked forward unhurriedly, her blonde curls streaming behind her and her hazel eyes blank. Her arms hung by her sides, two daggers held loosely in her hands as though she had no idea how to handle them. As she stepped into line, she felt somebody tap her shoulder. She didn't look around but answered anyway. "Yes?"
The person who had tapped her moved back, aware of the girl's dislike at being touched. "Male or female today?" he asked, his earth-coloured eyes expectant. Long, purple hair cascaded down his back in a way that was much too effeminate. His smile widened as he saw her lift two fingers, indicating the latter choice. To anybody watching, his form would have appeared to blur until his image turned into that of a, well, her. She winked and tied her hair into a ponytail, readying herself for the battle ahead.
"They're almost at us," observed the last member of their party. Her loose, chestnut hair seemed to float in waves to her upper-back and her serene, honey-coloured eyes belied the intent behind them. Soft fingers clutched a set of long needles, ready to skilfully jab them into various pressure-points. She smiled a gentle smile and held her arms up. "We can see the whites of their eyes now. Just give us the signal."
The third figure, the woman with eyes of amethyst, smiled as well; a fierce, murderous grin that would freeze a human's blood in their veins. The war had been decided before it had even begun. She was, after all, the Goddess of War and Beauty. You could not beat her at her own game. Calmly, she lifted her pistol and fired a shot that landed squarely between one of the approaching god's eyes. At his collapse, the rest of the group of nine sprang into action, glad to be able to escape the monotony that they had suffered for so long.
The blond male took aim, arrow notched and the string of the bow pulled unbelievably far back, and let go. In a streak of crimson, two gods were impaled with one shot. Both fell to their knees, blood bubbling from the corners of their mouths. He shot with the accuracy of his grandfather, although admittedly with different end results. As a descendant of Cupid, his proficiency with ranged weapons was not odd. These days, however, his arrows rarely brought love but carried out the purpose with which they had originally been made by humans; they brought harm to others. Technically, he was the God of Love although in recent years he'd been named the Crimson God or God of Blood.
A ball of light was held in the hands of the pink-haired female. The corners of her mouth were turned up even though her eyes held no mirth. In a smooth motion she brought her hands back before swinging them around gracefully, sending the flaming ball – a miniature star – through the throats of three gods and back again. The gods still standing were horrified to find that she had managed to create another ball of flaming helium in her hands to use against those that she wished to destroy. She was mostly a sailor's deity, but that didn't make her, the Goddess of Dawn and Dusk, any less forbidding an opponent. According to legend she had given birth to and moved the stars so that they could guide a sailor's path when they were out at sea.
Behind her, a god had collapsed as a hair-thin needle had been pierced through his joints and finally through his jugular vein. The brunette responsible for this stood back, withdrawing her needles with an uncomfortable kshing! noise. She whipped around, using the side of her hand to chop one of the gods in the throat and kneeing him in the liver before he had time to recover from his coughing fit. As he bent over she thrust another needle into the hollow between his cranium and his spin, punching straight into the brain. He slumped to the ground helplessly as the Goddess of Health and Medicine watched and noted the lack of external bleeding.
One cause of death that did involve quite a bit of spewed blood was that of having one's throat slit, which the woman who had been late to arrive practiced. Her eyes were closed yet she dodged a blow from behind, spun and slashed her dagger into the neck of her assailant. She was almost as untouchable as the Goddess of War was during a battle. After all, she was the Seer, Keeper of the Prophecies and the Boards of Fate. She knew what move you would make before you had even begun to consider moving at all. She knew your blind spots, your weaknesses, and she knew that she would defeat you because she'd already seen how. The future itself was hers to toy with. She predicted it when a large, thorny plant burst out of the ground beside her, moving away just in time.
The purple-haired girl, who had appeared to be a man before, sat above the battlefield on a throne of vines. She commandeered the plants to wrap around different soldiers until they either fell unconscious through suffocation, pressure or blood loss. Energy ran through her as she sent more plants to erupt from the floor and feast themselves on the rebelling gods. She was the God or Goddess of Growth and Fertility, able to appear before others as either a man or a woman. Much like the God of Love and the Goddess of Health and Medicine, her original purpose had been a productive one which benefited the world. Like theirs, it had twisted around over time so that it could serve her will.
There was a movement down below. It was subtle and almost unnoticeable, as though air itself had fluttered slightly. Nearby, a god found a knife had managed to slide itself between his ribs from behind. His attacker materialised from thin air as he pulled the knife back out and readjusted his khaki headgear. He looked disappointed at the lack of excitement that this battle held. The prey here were too easy. As God of the Hunt, Games and Sport he couldn't help but reminisce about the old days when hunts were accompanied with thunderbolts and sweat and blood. He ducked as a weak fireball whooshed over his head, no doubt having been sent by one of the braver gods.
That minor god was quickly silenced by a katana. The wielder of this katana scowled as a speck of blood landed on his spectacles but ignored it as he swung the blade around and managed to slice another god in two. They would heal completely in a decade so it didn't really matter either way. As he turned around he found a sword levelled at him, the challenger looking him steadily in the eye. As they lunged forward he stepped aside rather than parried and skewered them with his katana. He was not interested in flashy swordplay and it was needless to partake in such behaviour. A God of Knowledge and Logic would never be a showman. It took him a while to notice the low note reverberating through the field but when he did he looked up and muttered, "About time."
High above the rest, the Goddess of War's brother had been content to watch as the rest of his group decimated their adversaries until he thought that it was about time for him to step in. Floating in the air, he brought the end of the violin to his shoulder and ran the bow over one of the strings in warning. It was on the next note that the atmosphere rippled from around his violin in a sonic boom. As the wave passed over the remaining gods they clamped their hands over their ears. The only ones unaffected were his eight companions. As he continued to play the ripples increased in both power and frequency, bringing the other gods to their knees and finally they fell to the ground, twitching. This was the power of the God of the Moon and of Art and Music. He continued to play for a while after the last god was defeated, only stopping as the other gods on his side started to procure headaches and threatened to kill him if he did not.
"Victorious yet again," the Goddess of War declared, sounding a trifle disappointed. Nobody could win against her in a battle; the only ones who ever came close were the other gods in their group. Two and a half millennia ago, she and the Seer fought once. The battle lasted for three centuries and was officially declared a tie. The God of the Hunt, her sparring partner, never managed to defeat her but did manage to evade her long enough for the clash to become null and void.
"You would think they'd learn by now," muttered the God of Knowledge. He held a book once more rather than a weapon.
"A god would never admit that they would lose, even to themselves," said the Seer. She surveyed the battlefield, the blood that had run down her hands disappearing. The daggers had also vanished, leaving the woman to look about as harmless as a human child.
The Goddess of Health and Medicine seated herself with a sigh as she also looked around at the result of their skirmish and said, "It will take at the very least five years for them to heal and another two decades to launch an attack."
The God of Love crossed his arms. "But it's so boring," he whined, his cool demeanour cracking at the prospect of even more time without any excitement at all.
The God of the Hunt's eyes brightened as he was struck by an idea. "I know a game we can play," he announced. He cast the Seer a sideways glance. "Of course, this will require your consent. It will also be going against Hermes' will."
The presently-Goddess of the Harvest shrugged unconcernedly. "If it were not for us, he would have fallen long ago. None of us can handle any more years of waiting around and listening to orders. What do you have in mind?" she asked, curious.
He waved a hand at her airily. "It's an old game," he said. When they questioned him further he refused to disclose any more information. All he did was gesture for them to follow as he opened the gates of Valhalla and slipped back through.
-lll-
The nine of them were seated around a huge, floating chessboard. Glass, colourless pieces were placed around the board in no discernible pattern. If someone looked very closely, they would see that the glass pieces were shaped like humans – and that the humans were moving slightly. The pieces did not notice the gods as they watched. This was a Board of Fate under the Seer's care. There were countless numbers of these stacked on invisible shelves throughout her mansion.
The God of the Hunt and Games clapped his hands together in anticipation. "The rules are simple; we each take one piece that has some relationship with one of the other pieces and try to make ours the most successful. Influence of surrounding objects and attempts to take an opponent out are also allowed. The winner will be decided in five years."
"This goes against every code concerning the Boards of Fate, you realise," said the Seer bluntly. She thought for a moment. "It does sound fun, however, so I will allow it. To be stuck in here with nothing to do for another few decades is a horrifying thought."
The God of Games smiled widely, his eyes gleaming with more excitement than any of them had felt in centuries. "Then," he said, "I choose... this one." He pointed a finger at his chosen piece. The others stared at him in astonishment.
"That one is but five years old," the Goddess of Dusk pointed out just in case the other god hadn't noticed. "In five years, he will be but ten."
His smile grew even wider as he answered, "Yes, it will be a challenge. My victory will taste the sweeter for it."
"And when you lose, you will be able to claim that you had a great handicap," sneered the Goddess of War. "Fine, then, I choose your piece's mother."
"But I don't plan on losing," he replied tranquilly.
The Goddess of the Harvest giggled. "I pick... the husband," she announced. "Ah, the family's going to be set against each other. I wonder who'll be wiped out?"
"I choose his superior," declared the God of Love, a plan formulating in his mind.
"Then I pick that man's housekeeper," said the God of Music lazily.
At this time, the Seer became slightly impatient – she wanted to start the game already. "The Goddess of Dusk will choose the husband's sister, the God of Knowledge will choose the superior's wife, the Goddess of Health will choose the mother's mother and I will choose the family's neighbor." They all sent her looks of slight exasperation.
"Why don't you tell us who is going to win anyway?" asked the God of Knowledge, shaking his head.
"Even for me, the future is unclear at times," she responded primly. She held out a hand and two dice formed in her palm. "Well, shall I start?" With their approval, she flicked her wrist and let the dice clatter onto the board.
"Let the games begin!" proclaimed the God of Games.
The pieces started to move across the board.
-lll-
He wasn't sure when it first began having been, like most other five-year-old children, rather self-absorbed. It was just a pity that he was an exceptionally bright five-year-old with abnormal empathic and cognitive abilities. If he had been normal, he wouldn't have noticed it when his parents stopped calling each other pet names and started raising their voices sometimes. He wouldn't have known his father was spending more time drunk than sober. He wouldn't have found the unusual volume of the television curious and gone to investigate and then catch sight of his father hitting his mother. He wouldn't have known what was going on when he saw his mother leave with another man once his father left home to seek comfort in alcohol.
But he did.
-lll-
"You are cheating," the Goddess of War accused the God of Love.
"How am I doing that?" he asked innocently.
"You've made my piece fall in love with yours – it's pathetic!" She started to moan now. "I spent all that time trying to get her to leave the husband, too. He is dragging her down."
The now God of the Harvest crossed his arms. "You fired my piece, too. All I can get him to do now is to push the wife and kid down."
"You have to admit, though, that this is more interesting, is it not?" asked the God of Games in a placating manner.
"Well, yes," agreed the Goddess of War reluctantly, "but it's still cheating."
-lll-
She looked after the man's house, but that didn't mean she was stupid. She knew that the vile man had a mistress that he kept from his wife. She also knew that the man's wife had been itching to be able to break the prenuptial agreement from day one and clean him of everything he was worth. And, in her hands, she had the photographs necessary to ruin him and the other family if she wished. Blackmail and revenge had never sounded so sweet.
Next time he would think twice about raping a housemaid.
-lll-
"You should all surrender now," said the God of Music smugly, "I can ruin your pieces' lives."
"Or we could simply kill her," suggested the God of Love.
-lll-
She whistled as she strolled home, thinking about the letters that she'd sent. They'd contained the damning photographs that she'd taken and were now heading to the unfortunate husband of a cheating wife. If she hadn't been revelling in her delicious revenge, she would have felt sorry for the six-year-old boy of theirs. Well, if his mother was cheating on her husband then she would have to be found out sooner or later. This was justice.
It was as she was walking by a shadowed alley that a string was slipped over her head, around her throat and pulled tight. A voice, a familiar voice, whispered in her ear that she shouldn't have stuck her nose in other people's business. He whispered that he was merely serving justice; a woman who would selfishly ruin the lives of others had no right to live herself.
Even more than the hypocrisy, she was furious that the man who'd raped her had also managed to kill her. Struggling to breathe, she fell into darkness.
-lll-
"That means that I am out of the game," acknowledged the God of Music. It didn't matter much – watching was as fun as participating in the game anyhow.
The God of Love looked smug. "What was that about ruining my piece's life?"
"I still can," he pointed out. "The letters have been sent."
The Goddess of the Harvest said nothing but rolled the dice. She rolled a thirteen. Since she was not the one who had changed the reality around the dice, she gave the God of Games a reproachful look. He merely shrugged.
-lll-
She'd come to visit her brilliant seven-year-old grandchild. What she'd found instead was a family about to break apart. Although on the surface it looked alright, a mother's intuition was never wrong. She was sure that her son-in-law was the cause of her family's unhappiness. That would not do at all – even more so because divorces were messy, money-wasting businesses.
So, that night, she laced his beer with strychnine. Anybody who would harm her family would die.
It was, after all, justice.
It was then that she was clubbed over the head with a lead pipe, dragged to the attic and strapped in to a chair. When she opened her eyes it was to the face of her son-in-law's sister. Her gaze dropped down to the alcoholic drink in her hands and understanding dawned immediately. Her scream was muffled by her gag, to the satisfaction of the younger woman who told her that the only other soul in the house was her beloved grandson and that if she wanted her grandson to stay in one piece she had better not scream.
The gag was removed; the bottle of beer taking its place, and the order for her to drink was given. As she took her first gulp of bitter death a movement by the doorway caught her eye. Watching them, eyes wide, was her grandson – her wonderful, talented grandson.
It was too late. Her eyes rolled into her head as her body convulsed violently.
-lll-
"Ah, my piece has been taken out," observed the Goddess of Health, sighing in disappointment. "But why did you not let my piece complete its objective before killing it? That would be two opponents with one bottle of strychnine."
"I had meant to," said the Goddess of Dusk, puzzled. "The piece moved on its own and acted immediately after discovering your piece's plan."
The God of Games beamed. "Aren't humans just so interesting?"
-lll-
He hadn't spoken or made a sound for five months, instead spending most of his time staring at his bedroom wall. He didn't even react when he heard his mother giggle from their bedroom. She'd been growing bolder recently as his father had gotten more and more drunk. Now she even brought the man home – it wasn't like her son was going to tell anybody of the affair.
He only turned his head when he heard the front door open quietly, signalling his father's return. His mother was too busy laughing to notice the sound of his staggering footsteps heading to their bedroom. When the yelling and screaming started, he curled into a ball beneath the covers of his bed, squeezing his eyes shut and holding his hands over his ears in an attempt to drown the sounds out.
He managed to shut the sounds out of his father cracking the other man's skull open as he attacked him in a drunken rage. He didn't know that his mother had kept a gun for self-defence in a drawer of the vanity table or that she'd drawn it and fired three shots into his father's chest. He wasn't aware that his aunt had arrived on scene and had stabbed his mother for murdering her brother.
What he did notice was the sound of their doorbell. Apparently their neighbour had called the police when they'd heard the sound of screaming and gunfire. His aunt, a deer caught in headlights, panicked and ran out the backdoor, right into the arms of several policemen.
He didn't move from his position as they entered the house, half an hour too late. He was an orphan now.
So the neighbour who had filed the police report adopted him out of compassion.
-lll-
"It is between you and me now, as expected," the God of Games remarked. "You have the advantage, having my piece under your piece's supervision. We still have two years to go, as well."
The Seer nodded but didn't reply, seeming distracted.
It was then that they felt it: unimaginable pain resonating in their heads, the result of unadulterated fury being directed at them by none other than Hermes, their King. None of them could move a muscle, feeling as though their very minds were tearing at the edges. In a moment, they were summoned to the foot of Hermes' throne where the infuriated god was seated.
His eyes blazed as he regarded the nine beings in silence. Their breathing was harsh as they tried to recover from the excruciating pain that they had felt moments before. He watched them until he could not hold it back anymore and he started to speak, accusation present in every word.
"Are you not the nine Defenders of the Throne, to uphold the Law and fight for justice?" he asked, voice low. They nodded and this somehow managed to ignite his anger. "The custom for the Defenders of the Throne when they greet their king is to kneel!"
Energy washed over them, forcing the gods to drop to their knees. Doubtlessly they were all regretting the contract that they'd signed with Odin centuries ago which bound their loyalty to that of the ruler of Asgard, whosoever it may be. Without it, they could have overpowered Hermes long ago; the former Messenger God had not been the strongest of the gods, after all.
"You have disregarded the Law, ignored my will, tarnished the name of justice and caused untold misery to be suffered by a mere human boy," he said softly. This was somehow much more frightening than the rages and roars that Zeus would have performed as he thunder crashed in the background.
The God of Games shrugged and muttered, "I do not know why it is such a big deal. It is just a game. The old gods used to play it all the time."
"You are messing with human lives," spat Hermes.
The Goddess of War rolled her eyes – a brave action, considering the mood that he was in – and replied, "They die all the time. They kill each other all the time. There are billions of humans where they came from, and there will always be more. What is so gruesome about us having a little fun with a few of them?"
Hermes sat back in disbelief. He'd had absolutely no idea how disconnected from the human realm these gods had become. They weren't even aware that the humans were living, breathing beings with hopes and dreams and emotions and memories. Humans were nothing more than pawns to them, to be moved at will, there for entertainment. They had to reconnect... to find their human side once more.
He cleared his throat. "I, Hermes, ruler of Asgard, sentence you Below to live as humans, stripped of your power and memories until such a time as you learn empathy, sympathy, compassion, grief, guilt, morality, humility, foresight and other such emotion. Your powers and memories will only return after you have done so. You will remain Below until I, Hermes, judge you to have all fulfilled your sentences and to be rehabilitated."
They stared at him, not daring to believe their ears.
"As... humans?" the Goddess of Dusk repeated faintly. He was condemning them, who have existed for millennia, who helped shape the very Earth itself, to become humans.
"What about the rebels?" the Goddess of War spoke up. "Without us, you cannot hope to stop them all."
"Well then, we must all pray that you manage to find your way in two decades," he said. "Find the preciousness of life once more, become the gods that you used to be before thousands of years of massacres in the name of the Justice blinded you."
"It is not a massacre if they do not die," the God of Games protested.
The Goddess of War agreed, adding, "It is forward defence. If that is not foresight, then I do not know what is."
"How are we to live among humans?" asked the Goddess of Dusk, her gaze sceptical. "We embody war, the hunt, the arts that they indulge in, their health, the sky, the earth they stand upon and the future that they both dread and yearn for. How would we, who have lived longer than they could ever possibly imagine, who have created the world into what it was today, possibly be able to live among humans as humans?"
Hermes stared at her thoughtfully for a while before replying. "Are you really the same Goddess who had lit the skies with stars because you could not bear to see the lost sailors die? Are you the Goddess who insisted that humans would always need a guiding light?"
"What are you talking about?" she asked, frowning.
The God of Music chortled. "Only you, Hermes, would recall something from so long ago."
"My decision is final," Hermes said firmly. "Seeing as you've lost sight of your past selves, perhaps you will better be able to find your future selves away from the conflict and years of weariness that come with living on Asgard."
"He is planning to send us away any moment now," warned the Seer. "He will knock us unconscious with his Will and send us Below."
The God of Games looked up in alarm. "Hey, hey, can we not discuss this in further detail?" If his knees hadn't felt as though they were welded to the floor he would have backed away.
"Yes, this is rather… abrupt," said the Goddess of Health diplomatically.
His anger flared yet again. Even for gods these nine thought that they were immune to any and all punishment. If they were not sent now he knew that they would find some excuse to stay in Asgard and cause more misery to those around them.
"Think of it this way," said Hermes, "this will undoubtedly cure your boredom. Do not worry about the state of affairs you leave behind: you never mingled among the other gods much anyway. I will inform them that you are training."
"But what if being human and temporarily losing our powers weakens us?" asked the Seer.
"That's right, and we will have to come back in time to protect the kingdom. What if we are too weak and fail to defeat the enemies?" reasoned the Goddess of War.
"I highly doubt that a mere decade or so will override centuries of practice," answered Hermes dryly.
"However, if…"
"That's enough! Those will be your last words, these your last memories of being gods. When you wake up, you will be a human babe. You will have no preconceived notions, no way of speaking or thinking coherently." Hermes watched them struggle against the force pulling their consciousnesses under. They were the proudest beings that ever existed, even before all the fighting. How Odin managed to get them to sign a contract that debased them like this was a wonder.
As the last god slumped he let out a sigh. He knew that his council would tell him that sending them Below would be a stupid move, and possibly the last one he would make as King. Now all he could do was hope that he wouldn't have to call them up again before they'd learnt their lessons. He would put his faith in the people that they used to be. The was all that he could do now.
He paused for a moment in thought. Perhaps they needed personal guides...?