Thrice Named
*Following the genealogy Greek myth gives us is difficult enough, but once you realize that men have turned into women and given birth – such as the case of Tiresias (turned into a woman for harming coupling snakes/insulting women) Sipriotes (a male hunter turned by Artemis into a woman after seeing her bathe) and Caenis (a woman loved by Poseidon who by request was turned into a indestructible male warrior: Caeneus).*O.o.O.o.O.o.O
"This way is clear, sister Queen Persephone." Hermes does not need to tell her this, for she is Hades's Queen and this is her realm as much as it ever was Hades own for all that the Underworld bares his name. Persephone says nothing as she follows Hermes forward beyond the river Acheron, leaving behind the watching Charon.
"Goddess..." Persephone heeded the greeting of the dead woman, pausing as she stood at the threshold between Underworld and Earth. Closer came the spirit sensing her acknowledgment, hair as red as a rose, eyes as green as the living things that awaited her above.
"I know Hades." Persephone pressed her lips together, fingers digging into the skin of her palms. There was only one way a women 'knew' Hades before dying, and the bowed head of the mortal woman was as good as any confession of sin.
Hermes waited for her, unheeding of the spirits he had led here after Thanatus had cut the locks from their heads, ending their life on earth with the threads of life severed.
"My lady, my son – please, I beg you goddess, save him." The sniveling shade pleaded down at the goddess's feet, and Persephone sighed as she knelt to pull the poor soul up. It would do no good for Persephone to loath the ghost of this woman; who would most certainly forget herself before Persephone stepped foot again in the Underworld.
It was her task, as Queen of the Underworld, to see the dead pass on from the Underworld, into the world anew. She would not begrudge this mortal loving and losing her child, though the father was Hades – her husband.
"A son, you say? He must be a healthy boy, to have killed you in the birthing." It was usually the way mortal women died these days, baring the children of careless immortals. Persephone felt pity well up in her, looking at the weeping ghost.
"No, my lady, you do not understand – my son, he will die where he is – my sister was never a friend to me, less so when I became what I am." Persephone saw then, that this ghostly woman was a witch, her color was pearl white, but she was almost alive so aware was she.
"What is your name?" Persephone asked, and as if in answer, out of the shadows of the path came Hecate torch in hand. Hermes bowed to the silent Titan, who made no gesture of acknowledgement, for her focus was as it should be -on the spirit and the Queen of the Dead. Hermes departed, and only then did the spirit speak again.
"Lily Evans…my son, he is Harry James Potter – named for his false father." The spirit breathed soft as a summer whisper, with eyes only for Hecate. Her name was an offering to this, the goddess of her people.
Hecate was fond of her people, and as the only companion of Persephone who braved the Underworld every year with her, Persephone was fonder still of her often silent friend.
Persephone smiled and kissed the spirits brow filled with the fondness of her kind though the witch-goddess Hecate.
"Go now, we shall see that your son is well." Lily sighed and was gone from sight, her fears relieved, a soul put to rest. It was a job well done, and Hecate offered her hand silently for Persephone to take, who did not hesitate.
Above the world was still and silent, the world, her mother Demeter, waiting her return. She stood at a crossroads, and paused – Persephone heard the barking of dogs and shivered, they promised blood to be spilled this night.
"The boy…?" Persephone asked of Hecate, who had in turn never asked anything of her, and did not ask now. Yet it was within Persephone's reach to give much to her one brave friend. Hecate was of the proud Titan race, and would never seek what was not hers to grasp.
"Will die this night, my lady, for his father's people he is marked as a savoir and sacrifice, from his mother's sister there is only hate." Sorrow lurked deep in the depths of Hecate's voice, and Persephone's fingers gripped hers the harder for hearing it. In sympathy, and for the sake of their friendship, Persephone would do this one thing – would save the son of her husband, who knew no loyalty to her bed.
"Take us to his side, my dear Hecate." In a breath they were gone from the still night air, and when Persephone stepped forward into a closet under the stairs, a dying babe lay there. He was too weak even to cry, and his breathing was labored as he shivered, but vivid green eyes watched the Queen of the Underworld approach as if it was daylight.
If such a babe could seem expectant, or resigned, it was this one's fate.
Persephone simply smiled, brushing back his thick locks of black hair, and there found the mark of Zeus.
"See how his father tries to hide him from me, my friend?" Persephone spoke to silent Hecate who waited; her finger lightly brushed the babies' brow. At her touch the mark grew dark, like the earth rising up.
Persephone took the boy up in her arms, and offered him her breast to suckle on; she was the Queen of the Underworld, and daughter of the life-giving Demeter, who saw that man was fed at harvest and knew the sustenance of the earth. It was in Persephone to give life, to judge it, and to take it away. She would give this child milk from her own body, and he would be hers by growing blood and bone by that milk.
"What will you say, Persephone?" Hecate asked when Persephone turned to stand beside her, and took the Titan goddesses hand again.
"I will not lie, Hades has had a child – and he is mine." Persephone smile offered all the mysteries of the earth.
"And you will name him…?" Hecate wondered aloud, her eyes upon the babe at her friend's breast.
"Is for you to say, Curotrophus." Persephone allowed as was right, for the boy was of Hecate's blood, and Hecate had played the part of his nurse before this night. No child would survive such a state without her in place beside him, unseen.
"Sôtêr." Savior, Hecate says in the old tongue only the gods and their descendents remember how to speak.
"So be it." Persephone allows, and they take a step and the three Fates greet them midway.
"Your time beneath is at an end, daughter of Demeter, bringer of spring." Clotho speaks as she spins, her eyes do not leave her work.
"Hail the savior, he who shall live long among the divine immortals." Lachesis plucks a thread and measures that length against the lengthening tapestry that has no end that even Persephone can judge, Persephone does not like the way the goddess eyes the thread and then the babe.
"Be warned the boy you bring, shall met his end at Poseidon's hand." Only one of the three, Atropos, who cuts the thread of life, meets her eyes.
Persephone slowly nods, and takes Atropos hand when it is offered, leaving Hecate who can not cross the Fates and will find another way. The babe at her breast stirs as the brightening Horae dance toward them.
Persephone finds a smile for them, Thallo kisses her cheek, Carpo passes her the first fruit that will grow, and Auxo eyes the babe at her breast with a pleased eye. Persephone knows that Auxo blesses this child, and he will grow well and quickly.
She is led onward, and the Charities glory in her coming, Thalia with Aglaea and Euphrosyne leading the three in a dance.
Then there stands her mother, Demeter. Persephone is greeted with a long hug, and around them the earth begins to bloom. Every sight of winter feels strange and long, for Persephone who remembers the world as it was before, always in bloom. Now it dies and is cold, and Persephone is glad she does not ever see snow.
"What is this, my daughter?" Mother speaks, touching the cheek of the babe in something like wonder.
"The son of my breast, from the body of Hades…" Persephone does not hesitate to claim, for the child had suckled on her breast and the nourishment of her body had already given him a divine glow. His skin is already aflame because of the golden Ichor stirring to life within him.
Persephone is proud of what she says, and knows it for truth, even if it is not wholly right. Her word is above reproach she is Queen below earth as her mother is a Queen upon it, gladly she passes the babe to Demeter when her mother out stretches her arms in silent request.
"His name…?" Demeter asks in acceptance, as the babe pulls on a lock of her rich hair and brings a smile to her lips.
"Sôtêr, by Hecate's lips, for she nursed him first." Demeter touches the mark on his brow, the raising earth, and is satisfied; yet a frown plays upon her lips.
"Perhaps it is only the nature of Hades, but I sense this child has been brushed by Thanatus." Death, Demeter's claim is not wrong, only Persephone had not looked so closely before. Only with the babe back in her arms does she feel he is safe.
"Come, Zeus your father waits." Demeter keeps an arm about Persephone's waist as she guides her daughter and her grandchild to her chariot, the serpent dragon Cychreides stirs to eye the babe. Persephone gives its ears a scratch, and wide eyed babe and Cychreides eyeball each other, the dragon gives the babe a sniff and snorts, and Persephone hears for the first time the babe's laugh.
Welcome delight fills her ears, and she settles into the chariot under her mother's eyes. Cychreides flies skyward and Persephone watches the land below, what was cold and asleep stirs with new life beneath their passing shadow.
Olympus crowns the clouds of the Empire State Building, upon setting his sights on it with a glad cry and a flurry of flapping to settle his wings upon landing, Cychreides' head turns again with a certain fascination to watch the babe in her arms leave the chariot.
Demeter walks ahead to lead the way, as if Persephone might forget it. She steps foot inside and she sees her father Zeus raise to stand in greeting her, his hair is the white of clouds and his eyes the blue of the sky. Persephone passes the babe to Demeter, when Zeus holds his hands outstretched for her to take, gladly she does so.
"My daughter, we welcome you again to walk among us on earth and Olympus." With his words, the Charities and the Horae, and the Muses nine sing out greetings, there will be celebration until sunrise of the next day. Zeus takes her aside, to join Demeter with the babe.
"And who is he to be?" Zeus has fathered many children, but he still delights in the sight and joy of them, immortal or half-divine, even if he is not a nurturing parent all their life long. Persephone still holds his hand, and her hand tightens about his in thanks for acknowledging the child as hers.
"My son, Sôtêr." Persephone says without pause, and Zeus takes the babe up and living green eyes meet his own sky blue.
"Nephew and grandson both, this child of yours shall be to me. What is your desire for his fate?" Zeus has such ease to speak; he eyes are upon the mark of a lightning bolt on the child's brow – the rising earth like mountain peaks.
"He must never enter the Underworld, nor will Hades set eyes on my son." Persephone may forgive a dead mortal an affair with her husband, but she will not bear for child and father to meet. Not while this child is hers by body's milk and name.
She also remembers well the words of Atropos, and in this way, she may avert her child's fate, never would Hades the King of the Underworld and its dead meet his son, not alive, and not dead – for the child would not die, if Zeus granted her the fate she chose for her son. In this way she need not fear what Poseidon would do, though she would keep her eyes upon him.
Demeter beside her stirs, sensing the fury of Persephone, and remembering her own words; I sense this child has been brushed by Thanatus. Demeter shares a glance with Zeus full of unspoken words.
"You speak as if Hades would do his own child harm." Hera says as she greets them, she offers a smile for Persephone. If there is any bitterness in her over facing the offspring of her husband and her sister, who is her equal in the Underworld, Persephone has never glimpsed it.
"I fear it would be so, if he knew this child lived. Hades has never wished for an heir. He does not know his son yet lives." Hera runs her finger over the duel symbol, a lightning bolt or the rising peaks of mountains, she puts a finger in the babe's mouth, and it suckles ambrosia from her finger tips. It is a sign of the Queen of Heavens approval, of acceptance unasked for. Persephone is unspeakably grateful.
"I know this is not a son of Zeus, fear me not in this. He shall dwell on Olympus with us, and we shall hide and raise him, his father will not find him – a mere burning ember among ourselves that shine like the stars above." Demeter nods in approval of Hera's words, and Persephone says nothing for everything is working as she wished it to.
"Also, so Sôtêr may not be found by Hades with his birth name, we will call him by another." Zeus says, and Persephone lowers her eyes to show respect of her father's wisdom.
"Then from your lips must the name come, my father King and lady aunt Queen." Persephone sees from beneath her lashes that they are pleased.
"A two syllable name it must be." Demeter who holds the babe warns to prevent her siblings from arguing, she need not worry, for the pair nod in adamant agreement in this. For her child's sake, they are united. They will go in order of rank, but Persephone knows the true order of things is by birth.
"Ry, for the sun's rays never touch Hades realm, and nor will this child." Zeus promises both mother and grandmother and babe, and Persephone is put at ease with her father's word – his promise, her wish would be granted and guarded by the King of Gods and his Queen.
"Har, for both a king's heir -and air, for may he always find safety in aither, the air of heaven's name." Hera murmurs to the babe with a whisper in his ear. Her eyes meet Persephone's equal to equal.
Ryhar – Harry, home ruler, so the name his mortal mother gave will haunt him here. Persephone realizes, and knows this the doing of the Fates, a reminder of the mortal blood in him. Still, if they do not approve, it is fitting that the son of her mate, nurtured by her body and that of Hecate, is named the first day of the arrival of spring which Persephone represents.
"Hermes." Zeus calls for his son, who answers as promptly as any god of messenger and herald should.
"Speak the name of the son of Persephone, who was named by Hera and Zeus as Ryhar this the first day of spring the return of Persephone from Hades in your travels." Hermes winks at Persephone, and goes to do as he is bidden.
"Iris." Hera speaks, and the arching rainbow Titan kneels before her.
"Ryhar, son of Persephone has been named this day, speak my words to ears that have the wisdom to hear and heed." Iris nods and silently spreads her wings, in a rainbow that streaks across the sky is Ryhar's name.
As if he understands, Ryhar giggles into the hair of Demeter.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
It seems to Persephone that that season, Ryhar does not grow at all, and when she descends into the Underworld come autumn, she leaves the babe in the care of Demeter.
Hades waits for her, greeting her with Charon at his side.
"Where is my son?" He asks of her, stern and solemn, and he wares a mourning lily on his breast. Persephone only smiles and says as she settles into Charon's skiff beside him, as if already upon her throne at court – she is Queen here.
"He is your son no more." Hades is still and turns his eyes to cold Acheron, and it is right that it is the river of pain that flows beneath them.
"What have you done?" Hades seems to shrink within himself, withering like the plants above the earth in the face of Demeter's chilling sorrow. He has never regretted making her his wife and Queen, but now Persephone wonders if he realized before the price.
There is a lesson to be learned in this, that Persephone is a Queen and his wife and will not tolerate Hades to have others in his bed. There is nothing of his that Persephone can not claim as well, be it his children or his realm and name. She will not be denied.
"He is named Sôtêr by his first nurse, the lady Hecate, and by my father and his Queen he takes the name Ry for a ray of sun that will never touch the realm of Hades, and Har for being born a king's heir and hidden among the shining air of the heavenly gods upon Olympus. You will never set eyes upon him, and he will not enter the Underworld to die. He is mine now, Hades – a son that suckled from my breast, mine, for all the good it does you that he was sprung from your seed of a mortal's womb." Persephone lifts her chin and smiles smugly, eyes feasting upon all of Hades.
"My punishment for fathering a child with a mortal, against the law and word of Zeus above…" Hades agrees his dark eyes full of sorrow in never seeing his son in the flesh. Persephone is content with his suffering.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
"Ryhar." Hermes calls as he nudges the boy awake, sleepy green eyes peer up at him and Hermes can not help but smile. Hermes alone has been witness to everything between Persephone and Lily; he knows he looks upon his uncle's son, a half-god wizard born of a mortal witch.
"Come on, up with you." Hermes tickles the babe's nose, and with a sneeze the boy raises from his bed. He grows late, but quickly, already he walks as a toddler would – it was rightly Hermes who taught him to, given Hermes had played such antics as a babe crawling from his crib to steal from Apollo.
Ryhar rubs his sleepy eyes and looks to the sky.
"Eos isn't up yet." He says; it isn't a whine or question, only a fact.
"Yes, well, you wanted to see Helios and that lot, yes?" Hermes teases as if he's reconsidering any such thing, he taps a finger to his chin and looks down to see Ryhar squirming. The child is quiet and subdued, as Hermes would expect from Hades' son.
"Yes, please?" Hermes hears the soft voice ask eagerly, and with a laugh plucks the child from the marble floor.
"Very good, hold tight and close your eyes." That last part is simply because Hermes would be in trouble indeed if Ryhar tied to meet Helios on his own and learned the way from Hermes alone.
None the less, the child is a good boy, and obeys.
"Open them now." Hermes urges in a whisper to Ryhar's ear, after a nod to Helios.
A wide golden palace on the far eastern Oceanus, the earth encircling river, here is the bog and its lake beyond the palace walls; all of it a feast for Ryhar's eyes. Helios crowned in his golden aureole, its burn mimics the sun Helios is god of, and he is beardless and clothed in royal purple.
Hermes passes the boy into Helios' hands, the boy all the while looks up at the Titan with wide awed eyes.
"Welcome, little Ryhar, you are named partly for the rays of the sun, so it is well past time we met." Helios greets the boy who clings to his side and is but a silent witness to what he sees. Helios walks further into the golden palace, while Hermes is content to trail behind them.
"Oh, brother, what are you doing? Hemera has already gone to met Nyx!" Eos fans her wings impudently, white cheeked and golden armed rising at last from her couch where a young man watches her with a fond grin. Eos, fresh from bedding the youth, wares nothing but her wings, and only when she sees Hermes does she fold them around her with a frown at him.
"Well, go on then, do not let me delay you." At the words of Helios, Eos huffs aware of being teased.
With rosy fingers she blows Ryhar a kiss.
As if summoned by that gesture, twelve Horae attend her at once, when Eos steps away from them her hair is up in braided tresses, clad in flowery cloth of gold and a yellow robe.
"There my daughters are, Auge first light, Anatole like dawn, Musica for music, Gymnastica the bare, Nympha of the bath, Mesembria of noon, Sponde of a libations, Elete the tallest, Acte who hears Mount Athos sing, Hesperis of the evening, Dysis of the setting hour, and Arctus of the bear." Helios names them, when they hear their name they wave or wink to Ryhar so he follows which is which with ease.
"My horses, Lampos and Phaithon." Eos waved the laughing goddesses toward the stables where they swiftly brought forth the steeds, bright and shining. She climbs into her chariot and says not a word, around her the Horae gather, rising by her side, and with a burst of speed Eos rises and the stars flee from her sight.
Ryhar doesn't take his eyes from them until they are out of sight.
"Come meet my horses." Helios teases and Ryhar wiggles with delight.
"Morning star," Helios greets Eosphoros who yokes the four steeds, sparing only a moment to nod to both Helios and the boy, "is my sisters Eos' son, his brother Hesperos is my palace's doorkeeper and takes care of the horses when they return, as Eosphoros does now to take care of them in the wake of Eos."
"Who feeds them?" Ryhar asks, his voice squeaks.
"My sons take turns, Eiar for spring when your mother Persephone returns, Theros for summer, Phthinoporon in autumn, and Cheimon in winter." Cheimon stands to greet them, wrapped in a cloak with boots on his feet.
"Aethon, Eous, Pyrois and Phlegon." Cheimon names them, when he sees Ryhar's eyes fixed.
"Come meet my aunt Tethys and mother Theia." Helios walked then to the Gates of the Sun which kept the horses pinned within. Theia was a goddess who seemed to shine with light, reflecting it, kindling the flame of light within the gemstones of the golden palace; even gold kindled to bright life in her gaze. The golden palace would surely be less bright without her; the world itself would suffer her loss, for this was mother of the Sun, Moon, and Dawn.
Tethys rose from the water that surrounded them, smiling to see the Helios and the boy clinging at his side.
"Will you take him with you Helios?" Theia asked, reaching for the boy who Helios gave up to his mother with ease. Hermes said nothing as he turned his eyes to Tethys, who basked in their light, content.
"What do you see?" Helios teased, for his sight came from Theia.
"I see many things, my son, that he is savior, the son of no goddess, the grandson of Rhea, favored by me and mine, and gifted with the blood of Phoebe from which descends Apollo, Artemis, and Hecate. Yet your light, my first born, has always blinded me." Theia murmured fondly, Ryhar giggled and the Titan goddess held the child aloft so that he burned with the light of a god.
"I think I shall." Helios mused, seeing how pleased Ryhar was at the attention of Theia.
"I knew it. A mother sees all." Theia eyes gleamed with light, her keen sight a never faltering thing.
Theia passed the boy to Tethys, who peered back into the wide green eyes that regarded her.
"Three thousand sons have I, and three thousand again in daughters. None, little one, have your deep green eyes." Tethys told Ryhar who regarded her with those big eyes; she smiled and handed the boy to Helios.
"Show the boy's eyes the world." Tethys urged Helios, who feared always for her nephew to fall in his everyday toil; in this she gave him her blessing.
Helios took the boy up to his chariot, where Hermes at last made an effort to make the Titan stop and think.
"You're sure this is wise?" Hermes smiled tightly and ruffled Ryhar's black hair so he would not be afraid despite what he would heard said today.
"I learned my lesson well with Phaethon; you need not fear I would make the same mistake twice – and with a babe not my own son!" Hermes did not flinch though Helios raged at him with loathing hisses, for from Helios descends Gorgo, mother of Medusa.
"As you wish..." Hermes can do nothing, so steps aside and waves after Ryhar until he is out of sight.
He goes swiftly then to find Apollo.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
"You lost Ryhar." Hermes loves Apollo, truly he does, but there are times he wants to throttle the elder god, such as now when Apollo is full of dry sarcasm and big brother superiority.
"Not lost, more so…misplaced." Hermes resists the urge to fidget.
He fails.
"Misplaced where?" Apollo has gotten over his amusement and is now suspicious, Hermes can't decide if that's worse or better.
Hermes mumbles Helios' name and hopes his brother's prophetic abilities fill in the rest.
"What?" No such luck.
"I said…" Apollo cuts him off with an abrupt silencing gesture that looks like a knife crossing his throat.
"I know what you said, Hermes, I was hoping you weren't that stupid." Apollo keeps his voice soft, as he rises from his bed; he would be yelling – if not for the nine sleeping Muses.
Hermes is careful to shy away from them, Maia had taught her son well to mind the daughters of Mnemosyne.
Apollo looks out his window and mutters a new curse, glances to his younger brother and rolls his eyes skyward.
"You've done it now." Apollo warns and bites his lip as he looks above again. Helios holds the course steady.
"Can't you, I don't know, call him down?" Hermes suggests, and cringes at the look Apollo tosses him.
"Oh, sure, why didn't I think of that? Who cares what the mortals think? No, Hermes, I really can't do that without Dad taking notice." Apollo and sarcasm really do go well together.
"But your god of light and the sun…" Apollo does scathing nicely as well.
"Light of the sun, light, as in sight, as in prophesy, as in I can't fix this!" Apollo huffs and runs a hand though his hair, almost as if he's afraid to look away; his eyes are trained on the sun.
"What do we do?" Hermes told himself he was not whining.
"We don't do anything, you, the messenger god; will tell our father that you have misplaced our sister's only son." Apollo only them take his eyes away from the heavens, and finds Hermes gone. Only then is there a flash of light, like the sun flaring, and Apollo looks quickly back, his mouth tight in denial of saying the word, "no" – for that would only tempt the Fates.
He sees, by his mother's blood, what no other immortal can.
Helios holds Ryhar tight against his side in the heavens, where mortal eyes can not see, the heavens are wild and untamed, and here it is that the primitive deities waken to life at the sight of Helios and his burden. Ryhar's wide green eyes watch that life, for the origin of man and god alike is in the stars, then the Hydra, the serpent Hercules himself had slew but Hera had saved with like natured Leo, once the lion of Nemean whom Hercules had strangled, pay the boy mind.
"Look away." Apollo urges the boy, speaking the words aloud, a warning that goes unheeded – and might as well never been spoken at all, for all the good it does.
Ryhar meets those starry gazes, bold and young – but Helios does not yet take notice of what his charge is doing.
Leo bows, the king of all wild beasts takes the courage of a babe no bigger then a lamb as a boon.
Hydra is not so easily tamed, and meets the child's innocence with knowledge of the immortal beast. It follows.
"No, no!" Apollo stirs and struggles to look away so he can take action – any action – that is better then this sight that all but dooms a babe, for while Apollo watches and sees; he is helpless to act in any other way.
The sight has caught him, and he can do nothing but see.
Helios curves his path, and comes closer to the Hydra behind in order to slow the mad speed of his steeds – unaware all the while – of Hydra, had he known? Apollo knows Helios would have let his horses race away to escape, but the boy is with him, and he goes slow and careful. Slow enough that Hydra follows with ease, seeing his chance the beast lets out an enchanting hiss, and Ryhar reaches out a hand to touch those terrible features.
The boy cries out, a shriek Apollo below can hear with ease, as he's bitten by the Hydra, triumphant the serpent steals the boy from the chariot of Helios. Who, only with that cry, becomes aware of the enemy – the thief, Helios snarls in the face of Hydra whose jaws clasp the boy's arm, the serpent tosses the boy skyward to drop him in the mouth of the beast, a immortal child devoured by a primitive deity, as has not occurred since the time of the Titans. The Hydra remembers such days with ease; the gold eyes of Helios meet the bright green of the boy, and Helios has no choice – to save the boy, he must fall.
Ryhar seems to understand that, as Helios charges the Hydra, his four steeds leaping forward more boldly then any charging war-horse. Helios in the sun chariot and the Hydra clash, and down Ryhar falls, like his name sake the ray of the sun goes down to fall though the air.
Where will he land? Apollo wonders, knowing that to be the question he must now answer.
Apollo sees the path, his vision answering his question in the time he would take to ask it.
"Given wings..!" Apollo's voice is hushed, urgent, but an order that is obeyed unquestioned by the light of day. White wings erupt violently from the boy's slender shoulders, his cry is fear and surprise and pain mingled to one voice that no mother worth the word could hear and not heed.
Apollo glimpsed the Aegean Sea, before he freed himself from the sight, or the sight set him free. Apollo cried out in denial, but it was useless to urge sight when he had already seen, futile.
The nine Muses had woken, and watched him with pity; Apollo touched his cheek and felt tears there.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Glaucus, who had been mortal man once, watched the fall of a star become a boy with wings. He smiled to see it, for he had been watching for this boy for a very long time – and the boy will not remain a boy for very long at all. He raises his blue skinned hand, the scales glittering like the sea itself, and the sea bubbles beneath the boy to ease the fall.
Glaucus slips into the sea from his rock on the shore of Delos, birthplace of Apollo, where Glaucus himself had taught Apollo prophesy. With a flick of a serpentine fish-tail in place of legs, Glaucus dives beneath the waves, and the boy is where he'd seen in dreams, and as in his dreams, Glaucus puts his lips to the boy's mouth and breaths in the air Glaucus offers the boy's shut eyes open wide, he squirms in the grip of the sea-gods arms, but what is done can not be undone so simply, and the boy is a boy no more, but a girl with white as cloud wings and bold sea green eyes and raven black hair.
Glaucus smiles to see her, and then takes her to the surface, knowing what he's done will be a secret the sea will keep.
"Where am I?" Damp wings flutter behind her weakly, white and wet, bits of feathers float on the surface of the sea like clouds.
"Delos." Glaucus answers her, easily, and when wings fail to lift her up out of the dripping sea, and her legs and arms are obviously strangers to the sea, he offers his back, which she scrambles onto like a wet bird; desperately she clings to him and shivers. The sea is warm around them, so he knows it is the fall that has shaken her.
"Who are you?" The demand shows that there is still a boy in her, and Glaucus merely laughs with a flick of his copper green hair.
"Glaucus, and you are Ryhar, born to the name Harry James Potter and called Sôtêr by the witch Titan's lips. You were born a boy and I gave you the body of a girl. I was a human but ate the grass that turns mortals to immortal gods; both are gifts, so tell me now, which name do you prefer I call you by?" He could feel the regard of wide green eyes, watching him.
"Sôtêr." The girl who was a boy croaks on that name, knowing the meaning.
Glaucus's nod is graciously agreeing.
"Where are we to go?" Sôtêr, self-named, asks after Glaucus goes further from the shore and into deeper waters.
"To Aeaea, where Circe the daughter of Helios awaits us." Sôtêr is too young to think of plots unspoken, so it is just as well that she says nothing, the shivering gives way to the sway of the waves and the blue sea and dark heavens, and then the sky is as the inside of her eyelids, and she things when she wakes that the sea and the swimming of Glaucus swept her into sleep.
She dreams of lighting as green as her eyes, and when she startles awake fog keeps the sky at bay, she does not know if it is night or day, but the fair haired woman with gold eyes smiles to see her wake.
"Morning to you, little daughter, my name is Circe, and this island you rest upon is mine." Sôtêr nods quickly, least this lady thinks she is dumb or slow, but the bright laugh that fills the air rings of no harsh thought.
"Are you hungry?" Circe asks gathering up her skirts, her feet are bare in the sand, and the ends of it are wet.
Sôtêr's nod this time is tainted by a blush.
"Well, you should be, my love Glaucus may fast for his sight, but we women have no need, up little one into my arms, and I will see you well fed and you will meet my family." Circe smile is warm as the light of the sun, she opens her arms and Sôtêr does not hesitate to go into them, the embrace of this daughter of Helios is as warm and bright as her father.
They go into a house that is made of mud brick, but a young man spots them at the door.
"This is Telegonus, my youngest son – he with his brothers Latinus and Agreas rule a people the Greek's call strangers." Circe's smile is for her son, and it is clear she is proud of the boy who acknowledges her praise with a sheepish nod of his head, though his eyes linger, curious, on the girl-child, hardly old enough to walk yet clearly not a babe.
"She isn't yours, mother, yet she shines with the light of a goddess born of the blood of Theia's brood." His tone is matter of fact, not meant for an insult but clearly a question is lingering in his eyes, but Circe makes no answer, but voice give but a question of her own.
"Where is my daughter Cassiphone?" Circe inquires softly, though it's not meant to serve as a distraction, he waves toward the house, eyes turning back to his work – a tree rests before him, and his fingers shape it's length and width; it's no wider then a plank and curves like the incline of a wheel.
A girl with golden hair and amber eyes rests in the shade inside, she spins on a loom, but her eyes are elsewhere. Circe settles to sit beside this girl, putting a finger to her lips to shush any sound Sôtêr might think to make. Fingers sort soothingly though dry feathers, silvery and white as snow, content and sleepy Sôtêr leans against Circe, only hunger keeping her awake.
When the girl blinks, it's as if she has woken up, she sighs and stretches, and only then sees her mother and the girl babe leaning against her.
"Mother?" The girl raises her head and nods toward the dozing winged girl, a question in her eyes.
"What did you see?" Circe asks with a smile, for now putting aside questions, asked of her or not.
"God kings above and below shall bow; the sea queen shall pass her crown."
O.o.O.o.O.o.O