Kronos does not see her. Perhaps out of shame. Perhaps Rhea barring her doors to the outside does it. Not that it makes a difference; she would not see him otherwise.

She falls so deep into the dark realms of Erebos lurking within her soul that, for a moment, it seems as if her entire life has been spent here. Any happiness she once felt, like streams of sunlight through a thicket of trees – a dream, a lie.

(But perhaps her memories tell her otherwise.)

Rhea lets the sobs wrack her body first, day and night for what must be a hundred nights, until every muscle is aching and raw, until her tears have run dry.

Then she shivers. The curtains remain drawn, the braziers unlit, the white skins draped across the bed shoved to the floor. The cold weight of Othrys presses down on her more heavily than it ever did before, this time no spark in her womb to ward her from the chill.

And, of course, silence. The only thing Rhea welcomes as she drifts off into nothingness.

"Gaia grows insistent."

Kronos gouges his nail into the armrests of his chair. "She was never one for patience."

Koios regards the Titan Lord with a dull, lingering gaze. Noting everything, no doubt: guilt chewing away at his health, giving way to a barely concealed rage and nervous ticks. "She has petitioned Krios before me, as he is often inclined to indulge her."

Kronos fights the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose – yet another thing his brother might be quick to notice. "What rash promises did he make this time?"

"Unsatisfactory ones, apparently, if she sought me out."

He snorts. "And you never give way to her, frigid and calculated as you are."

Koios says nothing to that. He only leans forward and pours himself a glass of nectar. He turns an eyebrow up to Kronos, but he dismisses the offer. His brother takes a sip before speaking again. "She will go to Hyperion next."

"Who will not act on anything without consulting me first." He carves his nail into the chair again. "Then after?"

A muscle twitches beneath his eye. "I fear mother will take matters into her own hands, as she is inclined to do."

Rage pierces through his lungs but Kronos holds it back with gritted teeth. "Not if she wants me to unleash hell upon her."

"You are spread thin from this stalemate with Oceanus," Koios comments simply, though the majority of his thoughts remain unsaid. Challenge her and she will be victorious. He sets down his glass. "Perhaps there is a way to placate her." Kronos does not rise to contest, which Koios takes as a sign to continue. "She wishes to see Rhea. Perhaps in the hope your wife will sway your decision."

This time his answer is immediate. "No." His clenched hands seem close to snapping the chair he sits on altogether. "Rhea is fit to see no one."

Koios leans back, arms crossed. "As I know all too well."

Of course. The Titan Lord had gone through great lengths to keep news of Hestia's disappearance and Rhea's absence confined to these walls. Even his brothers Kronos had only told them bits and pieces. In turn, he was sure they would divulge such information to their wives in order to temper their meddlesome nature. Though he remains unsurprised that a wily creature like Koios has seen through such a ruse.

"Does Gaia know?" Kronos murmurs, as if the goddess can hear him.

"Unlikely. She is too focused on this crusade." He purses his lips. "There are… rumors, of course. You will only be able to ignore those for so long. No revealing ceremony of the child, no Rhea to be seen. It stokes suspicion."

"I care not for their judgment."

"I know. It is the prophecy that they fear though. That you fear."

"The matter with Gaia, Koios," the Titan Lord snaps. "That is what I brought you here to discuss."

He does not flinch. "Why do you resist her?"

Why indeed. In truth, despite her arrogance and brusk demeanor, she had given him everything on the surface: an entire pantheon for him to rule, a beautiful wife, freedom from their oppressive sire. She had only one demand in return. Kronos scowls. "What do I do with them if they are freed, Koios? Will you carve out a part of your own lands to accommodate them?"

Silence, the response he expected to receive. This is a matter he has not considered lightly.

"I know nothing of them, these siblings of mine. They have spent an eternity in the Pit. They may very well be grateful if I free them. Or they may turn on us, having remembered all the times we stood aside and let Tartarus drag them to his abode with father's blessing. It is a risk I am not eager to take. I am sure you would agree?"

His brother only nods, his personal feelings guarded so tightly Kronos has half a mind to throttle him. "Secure the throne then. If mother has not reached him yet, I will advise Hyperion on keeping his refusal as tactful as possible. Of all the issues we face now, mother erupting could very well prove disastrous."

With a bow of his head, Koios stands to leave.

Kronos closes his eyes, sighing, "Thank you, brother." At least Kronos has no reason to question his loyalty. Yet.

His brother pauses at the door. "Phoebe has informed me that Rhea wanders the palace."

He stiffens. Curses. "The nymphs told me much of the same."

"I would… fix the issue. Before Gaia starts sniffing for weakness."

It's too late, Kronos wants to tell his brother as he goes. The Titan Lord has already inflicted these injuries upon himself and the wolves have caught the scent. I cannot undo this.

He avoids Rhea still, though continues on with the rest of Koios's schemes. The Titan brothers will stand firm on this decision, while Kronos lies back in the shadows to lick his wounds. But, as Koios suggested, this will do little to shake off their tyrannical mother.

Where Kronos thought he could shut her out of Mount Othrys, she proves too wily to keep out entirely, going as far as to ambush him in his own quarters at knifepoint in the dead of night. "Where is my child?"

The Titan Lord is hardly surprised. "You'll have to be specific, mother."

"Do not play games with me, boy." The blade presses deeper against his throat and the ichor drips. Celestial bronze for certain. "I want my daughter. I want her now."

Just as he had feared. "My wife," Kronos retorts, snatching her by the wrist, "is still recovering. The birth was exceptionally hard on her, as the first ones often are. Rhea rests to gather her strength."

She rears back like a spitting cobra. "You lie. It has been too long for such things."

"You're hysterical, mother." He touches his neck, wincing. Ichor stains his fingers. "It would reverse the progress she has made. It is best you go."

"She doesn't know what you're doing here. Keeping your siblings locked in Tartarus. Rhea would never stand for it; would hate you a great deal for it."

She hates me a great deal already. "She is resting," Kronos affirms for the last time. "Escort yourself from my palace before I call upon my brothers to do the deed."

"Coward," Gaia spits. The knife sails past Kronos, narrowly missing his head and piercing the wall behind him. "You could hardly face Ouranos together. Should you wish to do me harm as well, it will not be so easy."

He glowers at her with half a mind to brandish her own knife against her. "Do not underestimate me, mother."

She sneers. "Only if you extend me the same courtesy."

When his day explodes into chaos, Kronos knows Gaia is to blame. When the sky turns gray, the sea drowns his lands, and ash rains from the sky, he knows that this is her doing.

Kronos storms into his war council, barely holding onto a shred of sanity. He grabs an empty chair and flings it against the back wall, wood shattering into splinters. He certainly won't be sitting down anytime soon in this mood. "Tell me what the bitch has done."

Hyperion can hardly meet his gaze. "Mount Etna has erupted."

"Plug it."

"We've tried," his brother whispers in what can only be exhaustion and with no success. "Mother is not pleased."

Reasons to fear the Primordials – Gaia above them all – were obvious to them the moment the Titans were born into the world. As symbols of natural forces beyond mortal and immortal control, they prove to be annoyingly permanent and irrevocably powerful. Even Ouranos, having lost all hopes of regaining physical form, still has pieces of consciousness floating around on the wind.

At that reminder, the Titan Lord's mood sours further. "Mother can throw herself into the Chaotic void for all I care if she thinks this is the way to mollify me like some terrified maid."

"Kronos," Koios utters calmly. "Do you want my information or not?"

He shoves Krios from his seat and claims it for himself, fists still clenched at his sides. "Tell me then, how much has Gaia's disaster cost us?"

"Nearly the entire mortal population of Etna and nearby areas were decimated from the immediate eruption." Koios pauses for a beat, as if waiting for his king to explode once again. Even Krios stays unmoving on the ground, ready to flee at any sign of throttling. "Lord Aether has reported that the upper reaches of his domain are clouded in ash and do not seem like they will subside soon. It is only a matter of time until we are plunged into a long winter. We will lose many mortals yet."

Iapetus's mouth settles into a thin line. "And with them go their prayers."

His fists pound the table, nearly breaking it in half. His brothers stiffen. Only Koios remains unfazed. "My lord," he continues, "Mount Etna was an important portal to the Underworld. She is a gaping behemoth now."

"There have been reports of monsters and spirits fleeing into this world," adds Iapetus again, quieter this time. Krios remains silent, though Kronos cannot tell if it is out of spite or sheer ignorance.

"I will capture them for you, my lord, if it please you," Hyperion chirps, eager in spirit through his shoulders sag.

"And not the matter that concerns me," Koios retorts. "We cannot close Etna while it still trembles and spews lava."

A growl rumbles low in his chest. "What are you asking me to do?" says Kronos.

"Mother must be placated. I warned you this would happen."

He casts Koios a glare more frigid than the domain his brother rules over. "So you blame me, is that right?"

"No, my lord. Gaia is at fault and she will be dealt with in time. But for now, we must keep her from destroying this realm and the mortal flock we depend on."

"And how do you expect we do this? By going back and giving in on her demands?" Krios butts in, finally. "That will be an embarrassment that Gaia will never let us live down."

He draws in a sharp breath, the only time any of them have ever seen their most level-headed brother at the point of frustration. "Not all of them," the Titan of the North persists. "Only one."

Kronos is the only one who doesn't look confused. "Koios—"

His gaze hardens. "If it will bring Gaia to the bargaining table and allow us to seal Etna, you must let her see R—"

The doors slam open before Koios can finish.

"My lord!" A shaken Theia rushes into the war room, bowing low to the floor upon entry. Her thin shoulders tremble. "I do not mean to be impertinent—"

"Theia!" Her husband hisses. "What is the meaning of this—?"

"Rhea," she interrupts, catching Kronos's eye. "She is beyond my Sight. I cannot see her."

His heart nearly stops. "What do you mean?"

The Titaness stands, clutching her arms tight to her chest. "She has gone from Othrys and I do not know how."

Panic, like a cold bucket of water, douses the flames of Kronos's anger. Gaia can be dealt with later, but his wife… "Prepare a search."

Her breasts ache, heavier than they have been in the last few days, as she climbs over shattered volcanic rock. The path through Mount Etna straight into the Underworld is sharper than glass, but even the sensation of her feet slicing open fails to override the sensation of the wet spots on the front of her dress, her body continuing to produce milk for a babe that does not exist. And it is certainly not enough to detract her from the cry that has led her here.

Before fields of white flowers appear out of the gloom, she swears it is Hestia's cry that she hears. Terrified, needing Rhea – surely what it must have sounded like in her last moments in Kronos's arms. But then it morphs into another cry that she has not heard for many years. A cry that used to haunt her dreams when gods once slept.

"Briares?" Rhea whispers, bloody feet now stepping upon dead grass blanched of all life. Only asphodels stand tall enough to brush against her knees, stretching on for many miles. But if she squints, she can make out a forest of poplar trees barely visible in the gloom.

From the forest, the cry echoes out. Ominous and dreadful.

"Briares?" she says again, running without another thought. Branches slice into her arms. More ichor drips from her flesh, feeding this barren wasteland where death rules supreme.

"Briares!" Rhea screams as his wail grows in intensity, ringing in her ears until she has no thoughts left and she is driven to the verge of madness.

An unknown light tinges the fog green. Gooseflesh rises on her arms and Rhea's pace slows. Her hungry gaze drifts along the trees. "You."

Quiet laughter billows out in response. She follows the sound, sneering, "Show yourself, monster."

The forest thins and the small voice inside her head bids her to pause. She can see the treeline and knows that if she dares to tread past it, she will be lost for all eternity. "I said show yourself."

A flaming hand wraps around her wrist and spins her around.

He is not a monster, no – he is father of monsters. And yet Rhea realizes that his gaze alone does not send her to her knees as it once did.

Her tongue twists upon itself as she wrenches his name free. "Tartarus."

Though there is a void where his mouth should be, she can hear the smirk inflected in his horrendous voice – the sound of metal screeching upon a metal. A voice that once struck fear into her soul but no longer. The queen comes at last.

"Should I have come sooner?"

Though Rhea is loathed to admit it, he is beautiful in a way – in the eyes at least, a scorching liquid silver that could set the whole world aflame. Even his skin, a patchwork of burned flesh akin to charcoal, is unique in its array of otherworldly scars. Begging the question of what exactly is Tartarus, how did he come to be?

Questions she fears to know the answers to.

The Primordial chuckles, responding finally. It was never my decision to make, little one. So much has changed since our last encounter. Ice water rushes through her veins. You're suffering, young Rhea, is so potent it spans across lands far and wide. Across all realms. It reminds me of Gaia's own disappointment, yet it is also so much more.

She rips her hand from his grasp. Rhea does not look to see if her flesh has singed. "You felt it and you didn't come."

His mishappen head tilts, almost playful. You called out to me when your grief was half-baked. It is in its prime now and I lifted no finger to bring you here.

"Here where you are more powerful," she muses. "Whereas the surface world taxes your physical form."

Precisely, he murmurs. Stupid girl, your mother always called you. She did not realize your potential.

Rhea stiffens. "It was not your voice that called me down here. But theirs. Briares."

Tartarus pauses in front of her. For a moment, all she hears is wheezing. Him… laughing. At her.

He holds his hand out. Of course. You are the only Titan that has ever felt anything for them besides dread and irrational loathing.

The air shimmers between his twisted fingers.

Rhea gasps. "Briares."

It could be an illusion for all she knows, a trick to induce more memories of hurt, but the babe in Tartarus's grasp is just as remembers him. Swaddled in spare cloth from a repurposed tunic, as helpless as the day he had been taken. He cries, holding out a dozen hands in her direction as if he has also not forgotten.

I grow bored of their suffering. It does not fill me as it once did. I have increased their torture in the effort to squeeze out every drop I can and yet— She feels a palpable squeeze in the air and Briares's wail rises until the pressure subsides. I fear it is not enough.

Her head tips up in defiance. "And I take it a Gaia renewed with hope has made your visits to her scarce."

Tartarus hums in agreement. So what will it be, woman? Will you give yourself to me willingly? The pressure in the air rises again. Or must I keep squeezing…

"Yes."

The babe disappears like smoke in his hands. Tartarus takes her into his burning grasp, looks at her with those cold, dead eyes. He licks the yes from her lips. Swear it to me, he whispers like a lover. Swear I can feast on you and I will let them go.

Rhea levels her own dead stare on him. "I—"

His serpentine hiss stops her short. The ground beneath him shakes, roiling in his rage. Those molten eyes narrow into slits. It appears, his voice warps into something barely flesh and bone and his shadowy form flickers, that your husband is more attentive than Ouranos ever was.

He disappears into fumes of sulfur that leave her choking and sputtering.

"Rhea." Kronos appears out of the gloom. His face pales. "Rhea."

The world spins and Rhea finds herself, not standing within the shadewood, but seated on the edge of the Pit itself, hot steam swirling about her feet. As if she were ready to pitch herself in.

Kronos quickly takes her away from the edge, pulling her into a crushing embrace. She hears his trembling heart and has no words.

He cups her face in his hands, thumbs brushing aside dried tracks of tears. Kronos whispers so low that even Rhea isn't quite sure she hears him say, "I'm sorry."

Has he ever said those words before? But he says them again, so quiet still that the world remains oblivious. "I'm sorry."

"Let go of me," she whispers back. She blinks, expecting tears, but they have long run dry. "Let me go."

Go, because she sees that look in his eyes, knows that false promises are only a breath away. He will lure her into complacency and Rhea will follow because she has nothing left.

"We can try again," Kronos says, and a sob ripping through her lungs nearly destroys her. "It will be better this time."

Rhea of the wild things, Rhea queen of the cosmos knows it is such a horrible lie. But Rhea, mother of mothers, makes the dangerous mistake of hoping.

He leads her through the Underworld, but Rhea swears she can hear Tartarus laughing just behind her, no matter how far they distance themselves from the dreadful Pit. The whole time Kronos clings to her, as if she'll disappear all over again. Rhea clings to him because she doesn't know what else to do.

At the mouth of Etna, Kronos makes love to her. And nearly half a hundred times he says to her: I love you. I'm sorry.

Rhea tells him nothing in return. Only cries when filled with his seed. Her heart so desperately wants to believe him, that he truly does love her more than anything else in this world. But a part of her knows it cannot be true, not when she can feel Hestia's presence doomed to oblivion inside him.

Pretending becomes second nature for the both of them.

They do not speak of Tartarus or the Underworld, save for the reports Kronos receives on the status of Mouth Etna. The lava flows have stemmed and the entrance to Erebus's domain sealed, though the earthquakes continue as a constant reminder that Gaia still rages.

They make no mention of Rhea's depression or her disappearance. Hestia's name is struck from all records – as if she never existed. And gods does it wear on her heart, but at least Rhea does not burn at Tartarus's hands. At least they can try again, as much as the thought fills her with such hope and such revulsion at the same time.

Their attempts to return to normalcy fail, of course. Whatever lies between her and Kronos now is not the same as before. It could never be the same as before.

With every breath she takes, lies spew forth. Lies to Kronos, mostly, which she has now gotten quite used to.

"Are you alright?" he will ask her in the moments they pass each other in the hall – the only time Rhea sees him, since their attempts to make their visits with each other scarce.

"Fine," she dismisses, plastering her fake smiles despite the revulsion in her gut. Despite weeks of nausea and fatigue, despite the flutters in her belly signaling dread where it once signaled joy. "Just fine."

And as always, Kronos believes her. Not because he wants to, but for his own sanity, he has to. And she understands that perfectly well. After all, Rhea tells herself these same lies.

Everything will be fine, she forces herself to believe even when her belly swells for a second time. He promised we could try again.

Kronos only notices during the first Titan gathering on Mount Othrys following Hestia's birth. A half-year later, the first time they are forced to sit beside one another for more than a few moments at a time.

"You're pregnant," he says simply, his gaze assessing her from head to toe before taking a long sip of nectar. No doubt noticing how round her figure has become.

Rhea remains silent. More than anything, she wants to keep this temporary peace. To acknowledge such words is to acknowledge what happened to Hestia and she need not dive into the abyss once again.

To be ignorant is to be sane.

He simply nods, as if given a response anyway. Unlike with their firstborn, he does not make the declaration to the congregation. Does not toast to her in congratulations. In another lie, Rhea tells herself that this means nothing. Her heart knows the truth, though. She cannot stop her eyes from scanning the crowd of her brethren – so boisterous and carefree. A luxury taken from her too soon.

Her gaze snags upon Phoebe at the center, laughing, Theia at her side. Between them, her little daughter Asteria twirls and smiles. Rhea cannot tear her attention away.

Her heart aches and she reaches for another glass of fermented nectar.

"A word, my lord."

Her attention snaps to the end of the table where Koios and Hyperion stand, hands clasped behind their backs.

"If I were wiser, I would think this an ambush." Kronos finishes his goblet. "Speak, brother."

"The fissure on Etna, my lord—"

The Titan Lord grimaces. "You were unsuccessful."

Koios bows his head. "A permanent fix alludes to a job of unspeakable magnitude, Kronos. One we are not equipped to handle."

He sighs, aging a decade in the span of a second. "And no sign of mother?"

Hyperion shakes his head. "We can wait no longer, my king. She is a threat to the realm and she must be dealt with."

"As you dealt with father?" Rhea snorts, too many sips of nectar making her unusually bold. All eyes turn to her. Their silence is her confirmation. In her heart, she knows she should leave. To be upset over these matters is to put a strain on her unborn child. Yet unhappiness has been a constant for most of her days on Othrys, so she remains all the same.

"Gaia is not Ouranos, Hyperion." Kronos continues when it seems that Rhea is here to stay. "Just because we killed a Primordial once does not mean we will be able to do it again."

He sneers. "An act of deception—"

"Hyperion!" Kronos roars, stunning the Titan into silence. The eyes of a few bystanders flicker their way. "You of all people should realize: we barely succeeded the first time. She knows what we are capable of. She will sniff out a coup from leagues away."

Their brother struggles to find words, even Koios is not so quick-witted this time. Kronos is right.

"She trusts me."

All eyes turn to her, stunned. "What?" blurts out Hyperion.

"She trusts me," Rhea repeats, forcing her voice to remain steady and even. "If you have a way to incapacitate her, I can do it. If I call on her, she will come."

Koios's eyes pierce her in one stroke, a thousand thoughts seeming to go through his head in a single moment. "Nyx's boy. The ones everyone has been talking about."

"Hypnos," Kronos adds with a grimace.

"Yes," Hyperion says at last, an unusual edge to his voice. "A large enough dose of his magics would do the trick. But only if Rhea can serve as the lure."

"And can you?" Koios's gaze continues to dissect her with razor precision. "Serve?"

She stares at him head-on, unwavering. "Yes." Her eyes flicker to Kronos. "So long as you do not forget what I will sacrifice."

"Never," her husband says in another lie.

Rhea nearly laughs herself into madness.

The world around her moves slower than it did before. She almost thinks it Kronos's doing, though this is not so precise. She feels trapped on the other side of a mirror, wading through a strange atmosphere where everything seems out of place. The sun through the thicket of trees, the rustling in the underbrush, the wind blowing back her hair. Everything once so normal now… wrong.

Or I'm the one that doesn't belong.

"Rhea." His hand on the side of her neck draw her from her daze. His fingers drift feather-light to the edge of her cloak, cinching it tighter around her shoulders. She only stares at his mouth, waiting for more lies perhaps. "Be careful."

Her grimace deepens. "She won't hurt me."

Kronos only nods, arms falling to his sides.

She glances at the stones lining the entrance to the sanctuary – the only indication that the space she plans to invade is not the same as the one she stands upon now. Once she crosses it, there is no turning back. Rhea looks back to Kronos, only to find that he has gone.

She sighs.

There is a slight tremor in the air when she crosses the threshold, a warning that serves to usually keep others away. Some spaces across this land are the dominion of one being alone, and even the gods are no exception.

The trees thin into a clearing. Rhea can hear a bubbling brook nearby, birds chirping and, despite her churning emotions, she can still find some semblance of peace. There are no altars to Gaia, no temples dedicated to her – only this.

Shuttering her eyes, taking a deep breath, she kneels at the center of the clearing.

"Mother." Her fingers caress the grass, pouring out all her worries, her uncertainty into the earth. If this does not summon her, she knows not of what will. "Speak with me, please." Her voice hitches. "I need your guidance."

A wind whips through the field, sending her hair and her dress to flutter.

Rhea?

Her throat tightens. The dirt churns before her, collapsing inward like a sinkhole and then outwards, taking the shape of a woman she would recognize anywhere.

The wind stops abruptly, leaving the forest as silent as a grave.

Gaia takes a step forward, hand outstretched as if she isn't quite sure it is actually her. "Oh, dear one. How I've missed you."

Her mother's hand rests on the top of her head. "I've missed you too."

Her lips settle into a firm line. "A lot has happened since last we spoke."

Rhea simply nods, choking back tears. "Gods, mother. You were so right. I didn't know how right you were but I know now." She leans her head against Gaia's skirts, feeling a thousand years younger. "Gods do I know."

"Now is not the time for that, child. Mother is here now." The goddess kneels beside Rhea, enveloping her in an embrace Rhea thought she never would have never longed for until now. "I wanted so much more for you. Anything but the life I was given. Yet here you are, following in my footsteps. But know, my love, where I was alone, you are not."

Rhea pulls away, loathing the pitiful thing she has become. "I am—"

"No. You have me," she croons. "You have me. I raised you to be a fighter and we will fight this together."

Her blank eyes fixate on Gaia's face. "I have something for you."

"What?" Green eyes, so much like her own, scan Rhea's face. But loss has hardened her. She holds out her hands, levitating a white feather in the air between them.

Gaia cranes her head, seeing how the fibers catch the light. Curiously, she raises her fingers to touch it. "I don't—"

The goddess collapses. Rhea catches her before she hits the ground. "I'm sorry," she cries softly.

That is how her brothers find her: clutching a despondent Gaia – finally at rest – with tears streaming down her face, a bed of wilted wildflowers encircling them.

Rhea can barely stomach Hyperion's sickening grin. Nor the wild mirth in Koios's eyes after a plan well-wrought. Though it is Kronos who hurts her most of all, kneeling at Rhea's side and placing a hand at the small of her back.

"You've done well," he tells her and she instantly wishes the heart torn from her chest.

With the greed of a newborn babe, Rhea nurses her goblet of fermented nectar. She cannot recall how many she has drunk before this – though in truth she cannot recall much of the festivities for tonight. But whether due to the amount of alcohol that has flown past her lips or the pain which she has tried to drown under a drunken stupor, she cannot be sure.

At least Rhea can no longer muster up the energy to pretend. The preparations of this celebration – over their victory against Gaia – she had left to Metis in its entirety. She had wanted nothing to do with it. She still wants nothing to do with it.

She does not mingle with her sisters. She has long grown tired of their whispers, their half-hearted attempts in supporting her. They are powerless, weak, just like her. Rhea rather not be reminded.

She does not speak with Kronos sitting at her side, has not spoken to him since that day in the grove. In the months before, she always felt the need to keep up the pleasantries, so eager to please. And for what? To sacrifice her soul for the faint hope that the child turning in her womb may not share the same fate as Hestia?

A jab pierces her lower belly. She elects to ignore it, downing her drink and demanding another. If Kronos notices her intake, he says nothing, and for that she is grateful. Though like her pregnancy with Hestia before, he seems rather amenable when she's so close to bursting.

Another jab in her belly – more nectar flows past her lips.

"I propose a salute!" cries Hyperion – the most festive of the partygoers now that the situation of Gaia and Mount Etna has been resolved – jumping upon the nearest table. "A toast to Koios first, whose endless scheming has returned the world to order once again."

He thanks each of his brothers present, Iapetus for his strength and stamina in sealing the entrance to the Underworld, Krios for… doing whatever it is that Krios does.

"And finally, to our gracious lord—" He tilts his goblet in Kronos's direction. "The mightiest of the Titans. Kronos, whose guidance and leadership we would be lost without."

The roof of the hall shakes with their cheers.

No thanks to Rhea, she muses bitterly, unmoving in her seat. Her rage rises as black as the night. Even Kronos looks to her, noticing the change in the air between them. She who has sacrificed everything for this moment of peace.

Rhea has half a mind to propose her own speech, denounce all these cowards and charlatans, her husband too for everything that has tormented her in the last year. Until another contraction breaks her.

A sudden liquid drips down from between her thighs. She gasps and bolts to her feet. No, no, no. "I need to take a walk."

Kronos cranes an eyebrow at her, perhaps noticing her wobbly gait. "Is that wise?"

She fixes on him a seething glare before stepping down from the dais. Rhea shoves her way through the crowd of gathered Titans, some too drunk to notice their queen walking amongst them, shoving her back. She has no energy to be insulted as her hand clutches her swollen belly.

"Rhea?" says a familiar voice. The hands of her sisters reach out to steady her.

"Don't touch me," she snaps in her panic, looking into Theia's knowing eyes, now tilted in sadness. Her voice lowers, yet sounding no less harsh. "Don't."

Rhea flees the dining hall before she can be faced with their disappointment. Her immediate thought, before being inundated by a pulse of alcoholic inebriation, is that she must put as much distance between herself and the celebration as possible. Though Rhea knows not where she goes. With no destination in mind, the dark halls of Othrys swallow her whole, though perhaps this is what she has craved all along.

She stumbles from alcove to alcove, clutching at her contracting belly, a prayer on her lips that he will come sooner rather than later. Rhea keeps moving, time slipping through her fingers, until her knees give out. She huddles towards a nearby brazier.

Pain washes over her. She lifts her dress and her mouth is wrenched open by a silent scream.

An unnatural gust of wind snuffs out the brazier, leaving her in utter darkness.

He is born silent – much like the twins she had delivered to Nyx a lifetime ago. Calm. As if he knows Rhea does not wish to be discovered. One look into those intelligent, black eyes and she has no doubts.

He who sees.

They sit together in the shadows of that forgotten corridor, breathing each other in. He seems the polar opposite of Hestia and yet the memory of her washes over Rhea. Though she has tried to forget, those worms have long-buried deep into the carcass of her heart.

At least she does not weep with him in her arms. The silent strength he lends the Titaness will not allow her to devolve into sadness. Rhea holds him tighter.

An eternity seems to pass and no one comes for her

He who is unseen.

To name him is to curse, as it had cursed her firstborn. But she looks at him and simply knows: His name is Aidoneus and she loves him like no other. Even when this moment is all for naught, destined to come to a brutal end.

Rhea hears a pair of footsteps, so slow they seem to drag. Full of dread, perhaps.

She only shakes her head and ignores the sound. Anything that is not her son's face, the gentle caress of his fingers on her chin, his breathless gasps, is of secondary importance. It is difficult to smile, but she does.

He has my lips. He has my cheeks.

"Rhea."

She looks up, her smile fading.

The shape of his eyes. His nose.

"Let me see," Kronos says voice oddly strained. As if this is as hard for him as it is for her.

She removes Hades from the folds of her himation. Kronos takes him – she can hardly breathe. With Hestia, there had been love in his eyes even beneath the fear. With Hades… she finds nothing. Nothing.

Her heart splits in two all over again.

"You promised." Rhea winces at how broken she sounds.

"Did I?" he says, but it is not without mercy. There is pity in his eyes when he stands to look at her one last time before making the trek down the hallway, Hades still in his arms.

It takes a while still for Rhea to sense her son's dark beauty fading from this world.

The deep abyss calls to her again. But Tartarus will not have her this time. I am not my mother. She will not allow any silver tongue to sway her into complacency again. Not the demon beneath the earth nor the monster lurking in these halls.

Rhea lifts herself up. She smooths out her dress, which she is surprised to see has been spared of ichor stain. The same cannot be said for the himation she swaddled Hades in. But the ichor has not seeped through the other side. She turns it the other way and wraps it around her shoulders.

His lingering scent nearly makes her weep.

Rhea walks. Though it feels strange; her body is nearly finished knitting itself together after the labor she endured, much quicker than the last time. As if it never happened.

She approaches the front gates of Othrys. A pair of young Titan guards, noticeably tired from their rotation while the rest of their brethren have joined the festivities, greet her. "The babe leaves me ill at ease," she tells them, glad there are no tears to reveal her lie. "I need air."

She feels them studying her, but Rhea knows that her loose-fitting dress and the positioning of her himation hide her lifeless stomach well. "Of course, my lady."

The gates part open before her. Rhea saunters through them and does not spare a glance back.