note: i say broken friendships still count as friendships. at least from a story perspective, so there.

prompt: sinner

pairing: zeus/prometheus

It takes years (nine years or so, he estimates; a paltry amount of time for any immortal) before Zeus finally comes to see him.

"I told you," Prometheus said, as soon as the ray of light collapsed into an outline of a grim-faced god, "You will be stronger for this. Stronger for them having fire. Already, I can see your power burning brighter than before."

He had believed that the gods (that Zeus) would benefit from the mortals. They would never grow enough in power to challenge immortals, and but more belief and more worship would make the Olympians stronger. Zeus was lord of the skies, of leadership and justice- any power he obtained from an advanced civilization would be far greater than one he got from savages living in caves. The Olympians were a collection of constantly squabbling children- a firm hand was needed to rule over them, and more power to Zeus was undoubtedly a good thing.

Zeus glittered- stronger and surer than he had been before, and Prometheus smiled (grimaced, really) at him. It would be all right now- he would see that Prometheus had done all of this for him, the new King who had laughed when he and his brother had championed the mortals- and allowed them to stay, even after the greatest of their kind were thrust into the depths of a morose god's prison.

(Of course, Epimetheus would probably get along well with anyone morose, god or otherwise; but that was beside the point.)

Zeus stood staring at him- passively, curiously- and did not reply.

"The passions of the mortals. Their belief, their civilization," Prometheus said, ignoring the look (Zeus had always been melodramatic), "This will help you, my friend. You know this. You will not have to fear the rawer gods- the wilder ones."

Prometheus waited. Not for an apology, of course (Zeus was well- Zeus, after all); but acknowledgement. A sigh and an acerbic comment, before Zeus cut him free and he could go after that cursed eagle with every power he could summon up-

"Friend?" Zeus finally said, his voiced laced with all the chill of a winter storm, "You are no friend of mine, Titan."

Prometheus stilled, confused. What-

"Do not glorify yourself," Zeus rumbled, his face a shifting mass of light and human features- halfway to the true form of godhood by sheer rage, "You, a lesser being I deigned to treat as comparable to us. And you betrayed me."

"I did not-"

"What gave you the right," Zeus boomed, "To think you could decide for me?"

This was, Prometheus realized with dawning horror, not about the mortals. This wasn't about fire. This was about Zeus, throwing a fit because he had not done precisely as he was told, that he had dared to go beyond the usual proclamation of greatness granted to the god.

This wasn't about his wrongdoing, this was about Zeus's hurt arrogance.

And nobody survived the hurt pride of the Lord of the Skies.

"I did not mean to-"

"Of course not," Zeus said. "You are hardly capable of rational thought, as you have amply demonstrated. Playing god politics, Prometheus? You should have stayed quiet and served us. You should have known your place."

"But I-"

A flash of light, and searing pain on his face. Prometheus jerked, startled; and saw that Zeus was watching him

Know your place.

"That was all I was to you?" Prometheus said, briefly wondering why he was so calm (oh Ouranos he would not forgive him, Zeus would leave him here to rot have his liver eaten very day the pain the pain the pain itwouldneverend), "A pet? To be told to sit and stay and walk, and to do nothing else?"

Zeus raised his hand, and another flashed seared his side. Prometheus felt an unfamiliar emotion rise up inside him- hard and bitter and enraged, and (he could tell even now), assuredly long-lasting.

"Hardly even that, as you demonstrated," snorted Zeus, fading into the sunshine. "Enjoy your pain, Prometheus. You will have more than your fill of it."

Prometheus stared into where the usurper had been, to the fast-growing shadow of sweeping wings accompanied by the unholy screech he'd learned to dread, and closed his eyes.

end notes: Also written for the prompts Zeus and Hate; hopefully, that's been covered.