Disclaimer: I do not own DanMachi or any of the Omori's original characters, nor do I make any profit off of my writing.
There was a little-known fact pertaining to the lords and ladies of Tenkai. One that the few who hear it rarely even believe.
It is said that the appearance of a god can change over time (crazy right?), not with age as the mortals do, but rather with temperament and memory. The changes are, more often than not, subtle. Enough so that over the years it's rare to ever even see a marked difference.
One child of the lower world may live for hundreds of years at the longest and may still never fully grasp the changes their deities have undergone.
Of course, like all things, nothing was absolute. Not all gods experienced these changes as readily as others; not all gods were as suspect to development as others.
The lords and ladies of the upper world were largely.. stagnant.
They were stuck in their ways; pretentious, uncaring, and bored. They did little for the benefit of others and even less for the betterment of themselves. Why should they? They were gods. Divine beings. Paragons of power and truth. How could they improve upon themselves?
The notion was ridiculous.
Gods were gods and gods were perfect.
Still, the potential was there, lying in wait.
A potential for change.
Freya was proof enough of that, both for good and for bad.
"Does that make sense?"
Bell shook his head. It didn't make sense at all. What the hell did any of that have to do with any of this?
Freya sighed and shook her head from where she sat across the table from him. The two had gone to a café the next morning to talk things through. Apparently, Freya had taken it upon herself to down eight cups of coffee, not sleep at all, and come up with countless theories about anything and everything pertaining to her current situation.
First and foremost, the theory of 'Divine Metamorphosis.'
A hilariously amazing name for something so stupidly simple. Namely, that gods change. Crazy.
He just didn't get how it had anything to do with anything.
"You're not thinking enough– "
Ouch.
" –you need to consider what this means for me."
That's exactly what he's doing! It's not his fault it doesn't make any sense.
"I was raised in a backwater village by an old pervert. My formal education consisted of the best ways to peak on bathing women and the art of innuendos, not this metaphysical nonsense."
Freya let out a tinkling laugh, poorly muted by the palm she laid over her mouth. Her eyes shined merrily overtop their deep bags of exhaustion. Honestly, Bell had half a mind to force her to go to bed, he probably would have to if she hadn't been the one ambushing him and shoving him out of bed and out the door.
One of her slim fingers pointed up in the air as she straightened back up. "Then I shall teach you! First lesson! Forget everything that man taught you." She leveled the boy with a fierce glare that had him nodding his agreement immediately. It wasn't like he wanted to know it anyway. "Second lesson! Nothing about what I just said was metaphysical at all. Got that?"
Not in the slightest.
He nodded.
"Third lesson, though it's more of breakfast and a show."
She sent him a playful wink beneath her hood and smiled before standing.
.. what is happening?
A few people's heads turned as Freya did a quick twirl and Bell sunk deeper into his seat, one of his hands coming up to shield his face from the onlookers. This was mortifying and she hadn't even done anything yet.
He really hated attention.
"Now, Bell," she took a step to the side and moved around the table, "let's say you're a god."
"Uhh.. okay?"
Freya nodded and took another step, now hovering just beside his shoulder. She leaned in.
"What would you be the god of?"
He was so confused.
She poked his shoulder, "come on, now. Don't be shy! If you had to pick anything to be the god of, what would it be?"
".. what?"
"You've gotta pick! What'll it be?" Her voice was sing-songy and Bell really wished he could be anywhere else. Why wasn't he in the dungeon again, you know, doing his job?
He grumbled to himself. "Heroes."
Freya cupped a hand to her ear. "I'm sorry, what was that, I don't think I quite heard you."
"Heroes, goddess-sama, I'd be the god of heroes."
She pouted but said nothing about the title. "Good! So, we've got our very own god of heroes here! What's your name, by the way? 'Bell' doesn't really scream 'god', y'know?" She snapped her fingers. "I've got it! You'll be Bellerophon, okay? Much more divine, wouldn't you say? He was a hero too!"
Why did his name need to be changed? He quite liked Bell.
"So, Bellerophon, god of heroes! Eee! It's perfect! Okay, okay. Obviously, Bellerophon is very into heroism, being the most virtuous and upstanding person one can be!" She punctuated this by flexing her arms beneath her cloak, not that anybody could really see. "As such, Bellerophon would embody that."
".. okay?"
He kind of understood what she was saying. Gods were the embodiments of their domains. Hestia is the Goddess of Hearth and Home; thus, she is kind and pleasant. Freya is the Goddess of Love and Battle; thus, she is very into love and very into board games. So, as the God of Heroes, Bell would be both into heroism and embody the traits heroes have. Namely, being heroic.
"Now, let's say Bellerophon has lived a peaceful life up in Tenkai. Everything was good, pleasant. There was no war, no conflict, no strike. It's heaven, and heaven is heavenly. He had no reason to be anybody but himself, no reason to act any different than he'd already been acting."
Bell nodded, that made sense. Especially if Bellerophon was as good and virtuous as she said, if the world was good and he was good then why would he need to change?
"Of course, there is only so much heaven one person can take. You can't have endless good and expect endless happiness. Boredom is rampant in heaven, it's only natural. When everything comes at the snap of a finger, what's left to strive for? Mortals can leave whenever they wish, returning to the Well of Souls to begin life anew, but the gods were chained to their roles, never to leave. That is until one of the high gods proposed something new."
Freya smirked and leaned in close to Bell's face (and taking a moment to relish in the way his attention was fully on her, only her) before jerking back away and returning to her original side of the table. She did another tight spin, the ends of her cloak flaring out and twisting with her as she did. One of her fingers appeared out of the sleeve as she raised her arm and leveled it to the top of Babel.
"Ouranos came first, right?"
Bell stayed silent, fairly certain that even with her memory loss Freya knew that. He was pretty sure she'd descended several centuries after the Lord God of Orario, there was no way she'd forgotten.
"The lord of the skies descended to the lower world, plummeting from the heavens in a golden streak of light, shattering our children's greatest achievement, Babel, and scattering the stones of peace out over leagues of land. Now, tell me, Bellerophon, what do you know of our benevolent Ouranos?"
The boy shrugged. "Old hermit?"
Freya paused before turning to face him with a tilt of the head. "I beg your pardon?"
His face flushed red; had he said something wrong? That was all he knew about the head of the guild, was there more? "He's an old god who never leaves the guild, spending his days in the Room of Prayer to keep watch over the dungeon."
"Old? Never leaves the guild? Room of Prayer? What the shit?"
Apparently, her little interactive show was over as she immediately slumped tiredly into her chair, her blatant confusion compounding her lack of sleep and causing it to finally catch up to her.
Bell frowned. "Is that wrong?"
A shake of the head. "Ouranos was.. well, he wasn't anything like that. I'd doubt anybody really call him 'old' and definitely not the type of man to lock himself in the room to pray all day."
In truth, Ouranos had always been rather brash, the first to dive into action without thinking, and last to regret anything. Gods' personalities drew heavily from their domains, for a god of the sky and the heavens that meant the man was always on the move, never to be tied down.
For him to be so stationary? That would mean–
"Something happened to him."
Bell hummed in acknowledgment, waiting for the grey-haired girl to continue.
"Something had to have happened, something bad enough to have warped him so much. Ouranos was a free spirit, he'd never allow himself to be chained.. unless.. "
Freya's gaze turned toward the heavens as she frowned.
".. unless?"
She sighed.
"I love love."
That's..
..not really an answer.
"I love love, I do. But I also hate love."
.. what?
Bell chewed on his lip to stem whatever question threatened to bubble out of his throat. Instead, he chose to wait for the goddess to simply explain further.
Her silver eyes fell to her hands as she released a shuddering breath. "It does so much good, but it also does so much bad. It makes just as many people as it breaks."
Lost, that's what he was. Well and truly lost.
"If I had to guess? Ouranos fell in love, the only chain I'd have ever imagine he'd accept. Then? He, she, they, whoever died. They died. And it broke him, enough to be this old, hermit we all remember. Honestly, not even the gods have perfect memories, I doubt many even recall what he'd been like before descending. A thousand years is a long time. So many years, so many opportunities to forget."
For a while, neither of them spoke, simply soaking in the atmosphere of the café as they got lost in their own thoughts. But, then–
"So.. Ouranos fell in love with a mortal, they died, and it broke him? How does that change him enough to.. " He trailed off, gesturing vaguely through the air in the universal symbol of 'I don't know.'
Freya shrugged. "Tell me this, Bell, you fall in love with somebody. You love them with your whole being, and then they're ripped from you too early by something you could have prevented, what would you do?"
"Go after them?"
Eternity in heaven with the woman he loved didn't sound so bad.
"Would you? Would you really? You forget I can see your soul, Bell, I know who you are in your heart of hearts. Say you have the power to prevent anybody from dying like your love did, from feeling the same pain you do. Would you condemn them to their fates so you could chase your own happiness?"
"I– "
He wouldn't.
Couldn't.
Shouldn't.
And he knows, he knows that the woman he loved would be suffering too as she waited for him. He'd be sacrificing them reuniting to do so. He knew that. But.. but he felt like the woman he fell in love with would too. He felt like the person he decided to spend eternity with would understand why he was doing what he was doing, she'd understand and she'd be happy.
Freya smiled a sad smile. "You wouldn't. You know that as well as I, it's what makes you who you are."
"And Ouranos was the same?"
Freya laughed openly at the thought. "Oh heavens no, the man was no less a scoundrel than Zeus was, you're far better than him."
"But, then– "
A raised hand interrupted him. "I'm not saying he didn't fall in love; I honestly don't know what happened, I said 'if I had to guess,' but that's the idea. Something happened, something drastic, and it changed him. That's the core of all 'divine metamorphoses.' Something happens, something so massive that it changes the unchangeable. Something not even the stubbornness of the gods can stand against. Something even we need to bend the knee too."
The most important part was left unsaid. The thing that brought the entire exchange on in the first place.
What happened to Freya.
What world-shattering event had changed her from the girl sat before him and the goddess on the highest floor of Babel. What tragedy had befallen the kind, excitable girl before him to turn her from a beautiful young woman who loved nothing more than to matchmake and laugh to the collector of souls that she was.
Bonus:
Ottar crossed his arms as he stared unapologetically down at the crumpled form of one Allen Fromel.
"You had one job. How could you fail?"
All he got in response was a groan.
The King's eyes flicked back up to the remaining executives of the Freya familia. "Has anybody heard of where she might be? We need to make sure she's safe."
Hedin was the one who answered, always the most prepared. "There's been rumors of a girl. Grey hair, beauty beyond measure." He shook his head uncertainly. "But she was years younger and acted differently from our lady. I cannot say if it is her or not, nor what happened."
Ottar scoffed and lumbered forward toward the door. "It's our only lead. "
He paused in the threshold to Folkvangr, turning to glance over his shoulder at the six still standing first-class adventurers.
"Go."
Poll at the top of my profile! Check it out!
If you have a particular story of mine you like and want to see lots more of make sure to vote for it! I'll likely prioritize the ones people like the most.