At dusk, Rhea reaches the shoreline. She half-wonders if he is watching her. I hope he is.
She presses one foot in the frigid waters. Then another. Waves crash against her thighs, soaking the bottom of her gown. Rhea glances back at the sands. She decides she will not miss it before slipping beneath the water's surface.
It takes hours until she can spot the palace rising out of the gloom, its coral walls strategically positioned in the middle of a vast kelp forest to deter invaders. Yet she passes between the gates, not a single guard in sight as she enters a domain that decidedly does not belong to her.
Rhea has no need to paddle through the monstrous maze of pearl structures – a minor current sweeps her along into a vast cavern, the walls shifting abruptly into porous black rock from a millennium of previous volcanic activity. Clouds of bioluminescent microbes hang over her, giving her ample view of a grim Oceanus seated upon his throne.
She bows her head but does not avert her eyes as she ought to. "Brother."
He strokes his beard for a long while, glowing eyes nearly as intense as Koios when trying to decipher an impossible puzzle. Everything else about him, of course, remains completely unreadable. "You have trespassed, sister."
"Yet I was able to reach you undeterred by your defenses." A smile curls at the edge of her lips. "I don't think that an accident."
Rhea spots a flicker of curiosity across his face, which she is absolved to take full advantage of. "Why are you here?"
"Yours is the only domain not controlled by Kronos," she lays out as plainly as she can. "I would seek refuge."
Oceanus stiffens in his throne. "He is your husband, sister, and it is well within his rights to retrieve you. If I give you refuge without his permission, war will come to my shores."
"I am more than aware of the pissing contest between you two," Rhea dismisses. "'Twas I who brokered the ceasefire, despite what Nereus may have told you."
"And yet, in coming here, you were more than aware that I would say no to your request." He crosses his arms. "So it is safe to assume you did not come here in search of sanctuary. You came here with a proposal."
"Naturally." Rhea's hips sashay from side to side as she ventures closer with a mischievous smirk. Her eyes drift across the chamber, spotting no one within the vicinity. "Your daughter fairs well in the land above. I hope she does you proud."
He hesitates. "I am glad to hear. Metis has continued to astound us since her birth – that she can even walk the land given your husband's curse on my progeny is a miracle in itself."
"And she is what? One in hundreds? One in thousands?"
His eyebrows furrow. "What of it?"
Her smile widens, latching onto her window of opportunity with a predator's precision. "Children give us a chance to create more perfect versions of ourselves. That is my gift, my lord. Perfect children, better than any of us."
Rhea pauses a moment, letting her words hang in the air. "Kronos has rendered your children with Tethys weak, unsuitable to walk amongst the other Titans. I can give you a progeny that is not limited by such a thing. A son."
If Oceanus finds her proposal shocking, he does not let on, to which she must commend him. Though for many moments that pass, the ocean lord can only stare at her. Perhaps picking apart her words for any other meaning, but Rhea's goals are as clear as the Mediterranean on a sunny day.
"You are… bold, sister," he admits, finally. "And for your bravery, you have a place here until my wife arrives home." She knows the mentions of his wife to be a thinly veiled excuse. None of her brothers are known for their fidelity, least of all the master of the seas. "Otherwise, as tempting as your proposal is, I cannot accept it."
"Why?" she says without consequence. Her pride need not be bruised by his rejection – after all, that is not a trait she shares with her husband.
Rhea notes his finger drumming against his armrest, Oceanus's only visible sign of discomfort. She will relish in it later. "Because I am a careful man, as you know. I did not join in Gaia's coup to depose our father for that very reason." She nearly rolls her eyes at those words. "Whatever has gone on between you and Kronos, I want no part of it."
"Fair enough." She tilts her head and gives him another easy, yet deceptive smile. "For now, I graciously accept your hospitality, my lord."
Oceanus still observes her as a conundrum still in need of teasing apart. "I will call on Doris to find you spare quarters. Apologies in advance if they are not as grand as what you are used to." The rest of his words remain unsaid. If you do not like what I provide, you are free to return home.
Rhea only lets out a stilted chuckle. "I am not vain in that regard, brother."
When she turns to leave, the smile melts from her face, replaced by a scowl. The men of her generation may be weak and unable to do what is necessary, but Rhea is of different stock.
I will have the son I was promised, she swears to everyone and no one, but Oceanus most of all, whose eyes still trace Rhea as Doris comes to fetch her and lead her across his palace. With or without your help.
Though Rhea smiles, the urge to slit Doris's throat open is overwhelming. Fucking prude.
Though the gathered gods of the sea compliment her, frankly, conservative gown, she knows their sentiments to be false. Even her gowns on Othrys hadn't seemed so constricting – Kronos often enjoyed the slits in her dresses that had run all the way up to her thighs, where he could poke and prod without restraint. In Oceanus's throne room, she finds herself the only deity covered from ankle to clavicle – so fitting of a married woman, according to Doris. Certainly not a coincidence, if she knows Oceanus half as well as she thinks she does.
Most gods Rhea finds with nothing but a sarong wrapped at the waist, while some of the goddesses have dressed in the Minoan style, their breasts free and accentuated by a scaled vest. Their hair, of course, is just as long and free as Rhea's and interwoven with multicolored pearls. She had fought with Doris on that too – who had also wanted Rhea adorned in the traditional braided chignon. Though the Titaness had promptly torn it out.
With a pained smile, Doris hovers over Rhea as the doting matron. Every embrace, every exchange of words, scrutinized. If she had known that blatantly stating her intentions to Oceanus would lead to her being watched, Rhea would have taken a more indirect approach from the start.
Doris only eases when she spots Oceanus and Nereus making their way over to them. Though Rhea smiles, she hopes Oceanus can see her sharpened eyes and realize that she has no qualms about playing this game he has instigated.
"It is good to see you again, my lady," Nereus greets with as much frigid arrogance as he had shown on Mount Othrys many years ago.
"Likewise," she murmurs with such contrasting warmth that Rhea hopes it burns him. She pecks him on the cheek regardless. Let it not be known that the queen of Othrys is an inhospitable guest.
Oceanus bows, taking her hand and placing a kiss upon her knuckles. It is not a kiss on her cheek as she would expect – this is a sign of greater respect, yes, but also of chastity. Rhea almost snorts.
"You do look beautiful tonight, sister," he admits, though giving nothing else away.
"You are too kind, my lord," Rhea tells him, though her real response is more along the lines of not beautiful enough to fuck, if she catches his meaning. That, of course, was his design in this whole charade with Doris. But, no matter. She did not come to this new domain beneath the sea to fawn over another man. Rhea will find another opportunity, as she always does.
Yet, sometimes, fate has a way of finding them for her.
"Ah, my lovely aunt!" she hears from the crowd of deities too terrified to approach the queen of solid earth. A lean man steps forward to embrace her. Unlike many of the other sea-folk, he is as tan as a fisherman, with hair equally as light from extended periods in the sun.
He kisses her on both cheeks, though it lingers considerably longer than any other guest that has come forward to greet her, bringing a blush to her cheeks.
She finds that he wears the same mischievous glint in eyes as blue as a summer sky.
Her brows knit together in confusion. "Apologies, my lord, I—"
"Nerites. Enough," Doris chides in that shrill voice of hers.
"Mother," he greets but otherwise ignores. He bows before Oceanus. "My king. If you would allow me to accompany the lady Rhea?"
"Nerites—" Doris tries again, looking to her father who has yet to respond.
"That would be quite lovely, actually," Rhea interjects instead. "It has been ages since I have spoken with a handsome, friendly face."
Nerites blinks for a moment, as if he did not expect a response rivaling his own deviousness. His eyes narrow playfully. "If I didn't know better, I would think that a jibe at your husband."
She takes his arm."I will allow you the chance to know me better then, Nerites, so that there is no confusion."
As Rhea departs, she feels her brother's stare on her back, trying to assess the amount of damage she is destined to cause.
At dinner, the boisterous Nerites never leaves her side. Not that Rhea can wish for such a thing, given her seat is directly beside his. As honored guest, she sits at the first table to Oceanus left with other sea deities of secondary importance: Nerites – as the only son of Nereus – and his higher-ranking sisters like the prophetic Thetis. The remaining brood of Nereus and Doris sit at tables further down the dining hall, worlds away.
The table across from them hosts the Potamoi – the river gods, sons of Oceanus, who stare at Rhea with hungry eyes and sharp smiles. A pack of sharks ready to descend upon her at any moment.
King Oceanus himself presides over the celebration from a dais in between these two highly ranked tables, half-brother Nereus and Doris on Oceanus's left. Other than the seat left empty by Queen Tethys' absence, a decrepit god in a coat of kelp sits to the king's right. He babbles on to no one in particular, staring down into his goblet as it were a portal into wide-ranging and mysterious Chaos.
"When the world was young, Gaia's first lover was wide-ranging Pontus," Nerites offers as explanation when he catches her staring. "It is said their passion boiled the seas and gave rise to my father Nereus."
While she finds Nerites to be a spitting image of his father – and appropriately named after him as well – they seem like polar opposites. His cheeks are flushed with drink and he has rattled on this entire night in introducing her to Oceanus's court. He is a warm host and Rhea is more than grateful. To enact any plan she has in mind, a quick lesson on the comings and goings of this world is essential.
Her companion continues. "Of course, gracious Gaia would soon leave him for the last child to spring from the Void – your father, Ouranos. Pontus has never recovered from such a blow, reduced to… as you see him now. Father took over most of his duties, ruler in all but name. Until Oceanus came along, wresting control of this kingdom instead of joining the fight to depose Ouranos. Frankly, I think he made off with a better deal. Wouldn't you agree?"
Rhea does, and it is precisely why she had chosen to come here and persuade him into a brief union. Though she wishes a child, she is still a queen and the blood of Earth and Sky. Her son deserves a noble lineage but, most importantly, a father with enough power to stand against Kronos. To keep him from suffering the same fate as her other children.
She, of course, did not factor in how difficult it would be to reel in the Titan of the sea in the first place.
Rhea does not speak much, the conversation usually dominated by Nerites, but she does not mind. It gives her time to dwell on her thoughts while he fills the silence. Yet her comments still drift about every now and then. "I'm sure Nereus felt cheated by such development. He was here first."
"And you would be right," he concedes, the promise of gossip intoxicating him more than the fermented nectar. "Oceanus tried to appease him when he offered his eldest daughter to be Nereus's wife. No luck. My father has been bitter ever since, and no amount of titles, properties, or women will change that. Though there will be a time when this wears on our king."
Rhea claims her goblet of nectar. "Would Nereus even be bold to stage a coup?"
"Of course not, love," the sea god hums. "My father's a coward. Nor would he find allies amongst the sea. Most of the sea gods are either the offspring of Oceanus or Nereus. But the king made it a point to keep the bloodlines so intertwined that we could not choose sides."
Nerites grabs his own goblet and clinks it against hers. "No, our lord of the sea is safe from any treachery. For now."
Rhea takes a slow sip. "Careful, my lord. All these loose words may lead to your head on a pike."
"And who's going to tell Oceanus? You?" He sits back in his chair, surveying her with narrowed eyes and a confident smile. "I don't think so."
She tilts her head to the woman seated at Rhea's left. "Who is she?" she whispers low enough to be drowned out by the music.
Throughout the entire night, Nerites has introduced Rhea to his sisters, the high court, and Oceanus's spawn. But he has failed to mention anything about the goddess seated next to her - who stares straight ahead, her eyes a kaleidoscope of colors and half-lidded as if she were asleep.
Nerties snorts. "No worries, Rhea. At best, she's a mute simpleton." He leans closer, his voice descending into a whisper. "We found her lounging on the seafoam. We're not quite who she is – she has no father or mother to name. She simply… appeared. She can disappear just as readily too."
Despite the festivities still raging, Rhea swears that the goddess can still hear every word of their conversation. Digesting it all, mute simpleton or otherwise. "And yet she is seated highly at the table."
"Indeed. Oceanus finds her very pleasing." His stare lingers a bit longer than normal before Nerites turns back to Rhea, resuming his dazzling smile. "The ocean's enigma. Though I suppose you are the new treasure to occupy our attentions now."
Rhea takes another sip. "I am still deciding whether or not that is as desirable as you make it sound."
"As queen of Mount Othrys, you must be used to being the center of attention, no?"
"No." Her fingers grip the chalice tighter. "I have felt more hidden often than not."
"And why is that?" he purrs, eyes alight from both drink and mischief. "Why would Kronos hide someone so beautiful and wily as yourself?"
She only stares at the nectar in her cup, contemplating.
Nerites laughs. "You don't have to answer that." Rhea glances at him, eyebrows furrowed. "We've all heard the rumors."
Her voice remains flat. "Rumors?"
"The real reason you came here," he says without faltering. "You have borne many children, my lady, but it is unusual that no one has seen them since their births. Yes, I'm sure Kronos would like to think us ignorant bottom feeders, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. No matter the ceasefire, he is still our enemy. Oceanus makes it a habit of collecting as much information as he can, a future sort of leverage should negotiations sour in the long term."
She scans her chalice again with feigned disinterest. "A habit you've developed as well, no doubt?'
Nerites leans in again and she makes the mistakes of staring at his lips, so quick to retort. "You certainly do catch on quickly." His grin widens. "I am glad you found your way to the bottom of the sea, Lady Rhea. I fear there will be no shortage of entertainment while you remain here."
Though Rhea may very well say the same of Oceanus' palace. They feast and drink every night for hours on end. Perhaps the only beings to have made the most of Ouranos's curse.
Despite Doris's prodding, Nerites procures Rhea those Cretan gowns and as much fermented nectar as her heart desires. She finds herself in a drunken stupor on most nights, lost to the music of the sea and a crowd of blissful, gyrating bodies. The immortals of Oceanus's realm are a joyous people, eager in their search of simple pleasures – whether it be drink, or music, or love – leaving Rhea in awe.
No one embodies this more than Nerites. His laughter rings like thunder above the hordes of deities, his quips sharper than blades, ready to eviscerate anyone willing to engage him in debate. He centers himself where the crowd is always thickest, the music always loudest. He dances alongside Rhea until the kraters are empty and her feet seem ready to bleed.
He even kisses her from time to time, light and playful things. No strings attached. Kisses common amongst drunken friends.
She couldn't ask for a better man to distract her from her troubles.
And throughout it all, Rhea thinks it a pity she was not raised beneath the sea and borne into a simpler life with such revelry. She would not know of Kronos – her heart would not be burdened by such loss – and she would have the freedom to find herself a better man. Nerites, perhaps, who is so close to loving her it is almost too easy, or another.
In a kingdom as vast as Oceanus's, her choices would be endless.
But perhaps such a future is not so out of reach. Her wanton behavior is not without its own purpose.
She drinks, and she dances, and she flirts with Nerties as much as she can. All while sensing Oceanus's attention still on her, tracking every move.
When the summons comes, her only thought is: What took so long?
She strolls into his throne room with a queen's confidence, so befitting of her, that the simple shift she wears is of no consequence. The salty air has made the curls in her hair large and wild, the green shimmer of the cavern causing her skin gleam. Rhea is as breathtaking as always and Oceanus knows it.
He says nothing immediately once she has entered, only beckons her closer. Rhea forces herself not to give into a preliminary victory. She knows how unpredictable a Titan can be.
She kneels at the foot of his throne, offering a hand. He kisses her knuckles but the gesture is as cold as it had been the first time. Her hand falls to his knee. She awaits him patiently, the tendrils of fate swirling about her, as if also in contemplation.
Oceanus lips purse. "It is a dangerous game you play, dear Rhea."
Regardless, she is not a being easily intimidated by such warnings. "Do you intend to reprimand me?"
"I am your eldest brother," he muses, though it lacks authority.
Rhea, of course, does not find his words amusing. "I am not your subject."
"Only if you were," he whispers in a tone singing of unfulfilled promises. As if it had been her who rejected him.
She smirks. "That has never stopped a god before. Let alone a king."
He once again ignores her baiting. "Sadly, I cannot dispel you by force, as I assume you will whisper into Kronos's ears about some imagined maltreatment."
"Naturally," Rhea admits. That is the way of these games, after all, and her sense of shame continues to dwindle.
His gaze hardens to stone. "Then it is my pleasure to inform you that you have forced my hand." She draws her hand to her chest, as if burned. "Congratulations, sister. You have proven instrumental in cementing a newfound treaty between Kronos and me. Our war is at an end."
Before Rhea can gape at his declaration, the ocean lord snaps his fingers and a kelp parchment winks into existence. It hovers before her at eye-level so that she may read for herself. Rhea only gleans the words describing the newfound peace and Kronos's signature.
She rips away from Oceanus's proximity and dismisses the parchment with a wave of her hand. "Then we are not so different, brother. We've both been well-fucked by the Titan Lord."
For a long while, Oceanus strokes his beard in the face of her simmering fury. Just as he had upon her arrival.
"When he was young, I warned Kronos of the perils of women." Though she wears a shapeless tunic, his eyes purposefully trace the outline of her breasts, the curve of her hips. "Only temptation made flesh, sure enough to drag you into the depths as a Kraken. Of course, he did not heed my warnings just as you do not heed mine."
She snorts. "Thank you, my lord, for such wise words of wisdom."
For all of her poking and prodding, Rhea must admit that Oceanus is not a deity so easily riled. That she can respect, at least. "The treaty was signed this morning. I imagine Kronos will come for you on the morrow."
Without another word, Rhea leaves abruptly.
She stalks the halls of Oceanus palace as a lioness awakened, a woman on a mission. Woe to those who stand in her way, though even she cannot fight against an army – if it belongs to Oceanus or Kronos, it makes no difference. The sea lord had not spoken of removing her by force, but this still leaves her with little time if Kronos does show himself.
Her fist pounds against the door to Nerites' quarters.
"Rhea?" she hears as the door flings open. Nerites hovers into view, rubbing at his eyes, shaking off some hangover or another. "What are you—?"
She silences him with a kiss and shoves him inside. Though he is her closest confidant here, she cannot tell him of her meeting with Oceanus and the panic which has fueled this encounter.
She corrals him towards his bed. Nerites break apart from her, eyes wide. "This is a surprise."
"Is it?" Rhea fires back, to which the god does not argue. She closes the distance between them again, but Nerites is the one who takes her face into his hands, crushing his lips to hers.
They fall on the bed together, a moan falling from Rhea's mouth. She straddles him between her thighs with a grin. She has goals, yes, but Rhea intends to wring out as much pleasure from this night as possible.
Nerites seems more than happy to allow her to take the reins. Oceanus would never. His hand cups her breast and the neckline of her tunic slips dangerously low from her shoulders. Rhea melts into his touch, grinding against the hardness beneath his sarong.
Her fingers trace the planes of his chest. Where Kronos is built like a mountain – all hard edges – she finds Nerites to be slender and lithe. He is a stunning god – perhaps even more so than she – something Rhea has not quite come to terms with. Her childhood coddled by Gaia had not been formulative in honing her taste in men, nor had she any option once Kronos came to nip at her heels. Not that it matters, of course, in the grand scheme of things.
Kronos.
Why does she think of the rugged oaf now? The way his breath hitches when she has pleased him, his large hands gripping her at the waist to steady her wanton ministrations, the shadow of stubble that paints his jaws – so rough yet alluring against the palm of her hand.
A chill rushes down her spine. "Stop."
They both freeze, as if caught in a web of time.
"What?" Sunkissed curls stick to his sweat-laden cheeks. His eyes, normally so blue and clear, have become a sea green, darkened by lust. Even heartbreak is beautiful on him and it makes her entire body ache. "Something wrong?"
"A moment," she manages through her gasps. "All I need."
His hand falls away from her. "Rhea—"
"Please." Rhea springs from the bed in her panic but holds out her hands to keep Nerites in place. "Stay there, don't move." She takes small steps backward, her hand still outstretched, still urging him to remain. "I'll be back in a moment. Please, stay there."
She dashes out into the hall before he can protest.
Rhea runs, though lingers around the quarters still, wondering why she feels so panicked, so full of regret. She finally collapses into a tiny alcove, hugging her knees to her chest.
"What am I doing?" Rhea murmurs to herself, forehead resting against sweaty palms. The answer, of course, is not something that requires a long-winded explanation.
When she married Kronos, she had no intention of going back on her vows. Rhea had never planned for a moment in which she would find herself in the arms of another man. A part of her rages at such a thing.
I'm so naïve.
After all, there is only one way to beget the next child Fate has promised her. He will never come to be if she cannot compose herself.
I am the blood of Earth and Sky. Rhea stands, dusting off her tunic, though knowing it will end up on the floor of Nerite's room within moments. My bones are bronze, my will is as unyielding as Chaos.
It is only with dismay that the Titaness realizes there is no time to fetch a glass of fermented nectar for her nerves. She marches back to Nerites – to her destiny – with haste.
The Titaness, however, misses the lewd sound of slapping flesh and Nerites moans. She parts the door open and her heart drops into her stomach.
Rhea sees… herself.
She plays the part of a bitch in heat well, both her knees and palms flat against the bed, panting obscenely. Nerites plunges into her from behind, his face tucked into the crook of her neck and his fingers weaving through the hair draped over her shoulder. Against her skin, he whispers a string of profanities.
For a moment, Rhea cannot understand what sort of alternate universe she has fallen into. Until she catches the eye of her doppelganger.
Their gazes lock. Her form flickers and eyes once green shift into a kaleidoscope of colors. The goddess from the seafoam simply smiles. Devious, her back arches against Nerites' chest, and the god groans in reverence.
Rhea turns and runs.
She stumbles from out of the sea, gasping like a mortal. She had told no one of her abrupt departure, not that this comes as a surprise. Nerites had been her only companion and he was undoubtedly… occupied.
It is just Rhea's luck, of course, that he is waiting for her.
Her teeth clench at the sight of him standing on the beach. Kronos plays the part of a statue well, unmoving despite the waves battering his ankles, arms crossed. "Explain yourself."
A cool mask replaces her panic, shoving it down into her heart. Rhea will not give him the satisfaction of seeing her distress. She brushes past him. "I hoped it would be obvious."
"A treaty was signed yesterday," he says as Rhea steps onto the sand and wrings the seawater from her hair. "Whatever war there was between my brother and I, it has come to a peaceful resolution. We are allies."
"Pity," she sneers, the wind whipping at her hair. With a snap, she dries her tunic instantaneously and moves closer to the land.
A hand grips her forearm, halting Rhea in her tracks. She tears her gaze away from the mountains in the distance.
Kronos glares at her and she finds the nerve of him astounding. "Why did you go to Oceanus's realm?"
"To get away from you, of course," Rhea scoffs. If he could not come to that of his own conclusion, then he is as hopeless as she is.
"You are my wife."
"And you my husband," she deadpans, not that it is a needed reminder. The thought that she is bound to him haunts her every waking moment, more curse than blessing.
His face does not change, sinking deeper into such a collected rage. She knows not why it angers her so. "Tell me what happened."
"I didn't whore myself out, Kronos," she snaps at the audacity, "though not for lack of trying."
"This is serious."
Rhea nearly tears her hair out by the roots. "And I am serious! Because you, husband, cannot give me the one thing I desperately want. Not without your prophecies and your paranoia."
And in truth, it aches to be so close to him when her children lie just beneath his skin, trapped for all eternity. This whole time, Rhea has only wanted one for herself, a babe to love and hold and worship.
"It is no excuse," he dismisses, but she is not willing to let him off so easy.
"And what is the excuse for ridding me of my children?" Rhea whispers, her voice harsher than before. "I did not ask to be your wife nor the mother to your bastards."
Kronos closes his eyes. It does not surprise her that this is an issue he does not wish to confront. To do so would drive any sane immortal to madness. "Tell me how to fix this. Tell me what to do."
"Let me go."
"You know I cannot."
Rhea finally reaches a boiling point. "Then you are as selfish as Ouranos," she growls.
"Maybe I am." His eyes snap open and she flinches. "And you, you hide beneath those lovely smiles of yours, that unreadable gaze. You are certainly Gaia's daughter, just as treacherous if not more so."
"Perhaps," she retorts back with the lilt of her chin. "And what of it?"
His mask is only stone, his gaze unfeeling. "Mother's treachery led to her forced slumber and you would be wise not to stray along a similar path."
"Mother sleeps because of me!" she screams in his face. "Or have you forgotten? Though I am not sure why I find such a thing surprising."
"Rhea—" he warns.
"I should have listened to her more. Gaia had been clear on what it meant to have a husband – what it meant to relinquish all personhood, all semblance of control. Only to be resigned to an eternity of pain. She had the right idea in getting rid of Ouranos. Perhaps that is the path I should stray along."
Kronos raises a hand to her, fingers straining as if to punch or claw. "Hateful woman, your tongue will be the death of you."
Rhea, on the other hand, has no such qualms. Channeling the very soul of Gaia, her hand whips across his face as a stark reminder. "I'm surprised it's only my tongue and not my hand," she spits, a dark part of her reveling in his shocked expression, which soon gives way to a fit of white, hot anger.
He snatches her by the wrist, jostling her forward. Rhea knows not what to expect: will he hit her back harder? Or worse?
They hold at a standstill. She wonders if he senses just how badly she wants him to hit her. Another excuse for her to paint him as the vilest of beings.
Kronos kisses her instead.
He chases her tongue as if in search of something. Perhaps it is the truth he tries to glean, so eager to know of her escapades beneath the sea. Or perhaps he seeks to find the love she once had for him, now turned to blistering hatred.
Two sides of the same coin.
Rhea rips away from him, dark curses at the forefront of her mind wishing to send him to the deepest parts of Tartarus. But when Kronos grabs her once more, it is with a grip that does not intend to let go.
"You are mine," he avows, just as he had on their wedding night. His arm encircles her waist and his other hand cups her chin. "You will not forget."
She refuses to dignify such words with a response. "Let me go," she orders.
Kronos, of course, ignores her. "If you have the urges of a whore, you only come to me." The pad of his thumb rests against her lips. Like a reflex, they part and she sucks in a little breath. "I will satisfy you well."
Rhea snorts. As if that is where their problems stem from.
Her husband's scowl deepens. "If you go elsewhere, next time I won't hesitate to flog you in front of all the Titans on Othrys."
"Oh, you will," she responds with icy derision. "You need me much more than I need you."
Kronos sneers. "Is that so?" He pushes her to the ground before another quip falls from her mouth. He straddles her in the sand.
Enraged, Rhea beats at his chest. "Get off me." With deft hands, he flips her onto her stomach and yanks her back by the hair.
His breath tickles the shell of her ear. "Isn't this that you wanted? This is what you went under the sea for." He bears her ass to the air and slides a hand between her legs. The grip tugging at her hair disappears but she feels no less constrained. "But you failed. You realized no man will touch you as I do. Certainly not fucking Oceanus."
She hasn't the heart to tell him that their brother resisted her advances, that it was Nerites, son of Nereus, who she had almost taken to bed instead. But Rhea refrains, knowing that he will never be able to claim revenge upon Oceanus. That may not be the case for her friend.
"Kronos, please—"
His fingers slip into her mouth, silencing her.
Though Rhea knows not what she pleads for. For him to get off her or for him to continue on, to fuck her as brutally as he intends. His ministrations continue, so painfully slow. To tease her, not to bring her relief, cruel being that he is. But it has been ages since she has felt his touch. She climaxes anyway.
"That's it. That's my salacious wife." His fingers fall away from her mouth, her pants audible to the salty air for all to hear.
He cups her breast and kisses the space behind her neck. His clothed erection grinds against her backside, twitching, eager for the warmth that has been promised to it.
"Kronos, please," she repeats again, still unsure of what she wants. Oh, but they certainly know what he wants. The only thing that seems to matter.
And Rhea hates him, she truly does. A lioness will always have hate in her heart for the prideful male who thinks he is worthy enough to mount her. Yet she careens against him, wanting still.
Kronos pushes aside the hem of his tunic and slips inside of her with practiced precision.
Curses fall from his lips. Again, he calls her a devious whore, the most disobedient of wives – to which she agrees readily, stoking the flames of his rage. She times his thrusts with the waves crashing against the shore, violence and then bliss, over and over again.
For once, Rhea admits that Kronos was right. This she would have never gotten from Oceanus or Nerites.
His mouth falls upon her neck. She cannot discern a kiss from a bite, not when she is close to completion, Kronos soon to follow. His fingers leave bruises on her hips before clamping around her forearms to steady himself.
Her second climax comes as brutal as their courting. Rhea cries out his name and Kronos shivers. His thrusts lose their rhythm, but for once, he does not correct himself when he slips away.
Her womb clenches around nothing.
He comes on her back this time. How nice, Rhea thinks with a sardonic edge, for him to think of her just this once. Never mind that it will not work. Not with someone like her.
Free of rage, free of lust, they collapse onto the sand, boneless. Rhea does not protest when Kronos holds onto her still. She has no energy to do so. At least he does not kiss her.
For a long while, they say nothing to each other, only listening to the tide lapping at the shore. Rhea imagines each wave as a knock against her skull, berating her for her failed plan. How quickly she had fallen for Kronos's advances. The ease with which she settles into complacency once again.
After many hours, she slips out from under her husband's arm.
Rhea gets to her feet and adjusts her tunic, now wrinkled and covered in sand.
"Where do you go?" Kronos murmurs.
"Home," she says, the word awfully strange on her tongue. Mount Othrys has not been her home for quite some time. "I need quiet." Perhaps a bath. "And… solitude."
He has never hidden his displeasure well and this time is no exception. "Have you not had that for years now?"
"I do not wish to be here with you any longer, Kronos," she says more forcefully. "That is all."
"Rhea—"
"Stop." Her fingers clench into a fist. "I hate that tone."
Kronos scowls and, indignantly, she wonders what right he has to be angry with her. "Then stop this nonsense."
"Your seed has already taken root and I grow weary of these games!" she snaps. "Knowing this, I do not wish to hear of any false promises of love."
He quiets for a moment. "They aren't false," he says. "Despite our… difficulties."
"It will matter not when this god is born." Her eyes pale, almost taking on a silver sheen as if she is possessed. "And, before you come up with more lies about how this time will be different, I want you to know that it will be a boy. Ferocious and wild, from what I can tell of Chaos's whispers. Powerful beyond your wildest dreams. Keep that in mind the next time you wish to talk to me about love."
Because whatever its extent… it will never be enough.
She has not had a pregnancy this calm since Hestia, Rhea thinks, and even then, this one feels different. The calm before a storm.
When the warning contractions come, Rhea journeys to the cliff on which she was wed. The sea churns, restless beneath her. The babe within grows restless as well, shifting and contorting for the moment he will make himself known. For the moment Rhea's life will be thrown into chaos once again – for the subsequent fight that awaits.
When the fierce winds batter the palace and the sky turns as black as Nyx's hair, her water breaks ahead of schedule. She is unsurprised – this babe seems nearly as impatient as its father, if not more so.
Kronos bans Metis and her sisters from joining her in her quarters, given her last birthing on Mount Rhodopon when she and Phoebe had conspired together. Though Rhea does not fear, as she has already birthed one son alone.
The babe fights her the whole way through. She cannot rest on her bed since the pain of him is so unbearable that she has to keep moving and pacing, rubbing her belly in the hope that it will pacify him and keep his contractions at bay. But, as Rhea swore to Kronos on the beach that this son was conceived, he will be a warrior.
I'm a warrior too, she tells her child in silence. Just not in the way you think.
Hours pass before Rhea is forced to lean over the side of her bed, legs spread, teeth clenched and strained to the point of breaking. Tears slip from her eyes like the rain battering the walls of the palace.
With a final scream, her womb releases him finally. Her hands scramble to catch him.
Rhea clutches him to her chest, breathing her hard, listening to his thudding heart. So strong. She soon turns her ears towards the outside, realizing that the storm has ceased.
Mother once again, Rhea can only stare at her new son. Even as his face turns red and he screams in her face with all his might. What she wouldn't give to temper such rage, to see him grow to channel such ferocity into loving others. Loving her.
His eyes are as green as the tumultuous ocean, like the beach he was conceived. The kingdom he was nearly born into. She names him after the sea in the hope that she will return one day - hopefully, to witness Oceanus's toppling first hand.
The door opens and closes just as quickly.
"It is done," he says, more response than question.
Rhea only nods, even as his eyes settle on the babe in her arms. His nostrils flare, like a dog catching onto the scent.
She moves before he does.
Kronos misses the bronze blade in her hand.
His whole body jerks. His eyebrows furrow, confused, as he glances down at the knife that has found the weak point in his armor. Kronos looks to Rhea disbelieving, sees her delicate hand wrapped around the hilt, and yet cannot process what this means.
Merciless, Rhea takes this opportunity to carve him open like a gourd.
He soon comes to his senses.
Kronos crushes her wrist in his grasp, rips the knife out of his body. Ichor drips to the floor. They both stumble, Rhea balancing a screaming Poseidon on her hip with one arm.
His bleeding side glows.
Rhea absorbs a shuddering breath as their essences hit her all at once. Hestia, Hades, Demeter. In her heart she hears them call out for her, begging for release.
She scrambles for the knife.
"Iapetus!" Kronos howls, kicking the bloody blade away from her before pressing a hand to his otherworldly wound.
A sonic boom sounds behind her. Arms wrap around Rhea's waist and she screams. She thrashes in his hold, trying to shield her child, but Iapetus rips the babe from her arms. A mistake though, for it was only her need to protect her son that kept a tight and focused leash on her rage.
Now she is a lioness awakened.
She lashes out. Nails carve into her brother's face. He swats her away quickly enough that she cannot remove an eye but comes awfully close.
Her back slams against the ground. Iapetus's spear appears in his free hand and he points the tip at his sister's chin. Ichor drips from his cheeks, soaking the length of his beard.
The hiss that slips from her parted lips must be borne of Tartarus himself.
Kronos remains in a kneeled position, eyes closed. His breaths are shallow. Beads of silver sweat erupt on his brow. He pushes power into the abysmal wound dealt him, forcing those dreadful beings within him into submission until the cut can stitch itself back together.
Throughout it all, Poseidon continues his stormy cries.
"Your wife is hysterical, my lord," says Iapetus, emotionless. "You would do best to remedy this. And soon."
Kronos's eyes snap open, turning on them with frightening intensity. "Give me that damned child and drag her out of here."
Iapetus takes him literally, it seems. Her brother's grip around her arm hauls her from her chambers with no reprieve. She is not given the chance to stand up on her own two feet, let alone escape him. A queen reduced to a concubine.
When they reach the throne room, Iapetus throws the doors open with a slam and deposits her on the pristine floor. Beneath her shivering and sniffling, Rhea bares her teeth.
He looks at her in disgust. "If you were my wife I would have you dismembered."
Her brother shuts the doors behind him, leaving her confined with her miseries. Rhea picks herself up from the ground, wiping the tears from her face.
She locks eyes with her husband's throne. Don't forget yourself. You are a queen.
Rhea climbs onto his seat of power and wonders how he can do this to her. How he can justify one horrible act after another. And when she feels that her son's aura has faded from the world, Rhea weeps again.
She cannot be sure why it takes Kronos so long to come to her. He may be brokering preparations for her removal, perhaps, or fortifying himself against her pitiful appearance. Though Rhea must remind herself that he is a coward, and the latter is the most likely possibility.
The doors part.
He comes alone.
She grips the rests hard, attempting to soothe the urge to rip him into Ouranos-sized pieces. Should Kronos send her to the Pit for such a thing she will go with no regrets.
"How many times?" Rhea whispers as he grows closer, so unnaturally still. "How many times are you going to break my heart? If I knew… I think I could be ready then."
"I will approve your petition to rest," he says, ignoring her words entirely. "Iapetus will escort you to the entrance at Mount Etna tomorrow. I will tell Hypnos to expect you and make the proper accommodations."
Rhea cranes her head to the side. "I never made a formal request."
"I know."
She looks to her hands. A gift stained with pity and the absence of her fourth-born. "For how long?"
"That I will decide," Kronos responds, voice almost soothing despite the recent event of his stabbing. As if approaching a deer he is too afraid to startle. "Until you are…better."
Better.
Rhea snorts, shoulders hunching inwards with the familiar weight of depression on her shoulders. Her exhaustion knows no bounds after the flesh wounds from recent labor and the spirit wounds he has dealt her repeatedly.
It is only in her nature to rub salt on his own.
"Will I remain in the cave of Nyx until then?" she says coolly. "Conscious or not, I do not wish to be under the same roof you are fucking other women in my absence." A whore he had called her. A flogging he had threatened. But if Rhea told him that she would do the same if she caught his eye wandering, he would only laugh.
A short intake of breath. A simple "Rhea" follows.
She slips off his throne. "Preparations or no, tell Hypnos I come at once. There is no sense in waiting until morning."
Kronos stares at her shaking legs. "Is that wise?"
Rhea crosses the room without looking at him. "Considering I tried to gut you not long ago, it is wise to rid an angry snake from your garden before it thinks of more creative ways to make you suffer."