"We won't end up like them, will we?" A soft-spoken voice asked, curious eyes flickering to the golden god next to him, gaze filled with a sincere naivety that could only be found in an ingenuous child yet to be exposed to the vices and virtues of reality. A reality that has yet to infect the innocent young God as he sat upon the edges of Mount Olympus, soaking up the glorious scenery before him of curling clouds that formed into wisps as the wind pulled them along, stretching them out until they faded into the backdrop of blue.

It was truly a dazzling sight, but for frequent onlookers it could become sickening, making people - such as the young child - yearn for a change that could not be found on Mount Olympus.

You see, as years passed it was the same old recurring events that nagged everyone at Olympus. That is why young Matthaíos wished for something different and less analogous, but if he were to ask for such a thing his mother, Hera, would not listen. She would rather shelter him and his twin; to blockade them both from the realism of how the universe worked, but most of all the true nature of her relationship with their father, Zeus.

Something that Matthaíos was already sorely aware of.

Hera though was completely ignorant of this fact and instead continued to bathe their marriage in white lies to give their matrimony some verisimilitude, but young Matthaíos knew better. He could feel the spite running through her veins, could sense the unshed tears that even left Matthaíos with a bitter taste in his mouth. As if Eris herself was laughing in his face.

Perhaps he seemed to be the only one to sense this because he was the God of Vengeance and my oh my...Their mother had become more bloodthirsty over the centuries as Zeus betrayed her and favored in whoring himself away to different mortal women. Then children would also be born from these unsightly treacheries that fueled his mother's rage as Hera clenched her fists, wanting to scream and rupture all of Zeus' past misdeeds for they were unforgivable.

They were immortal though.

They were gods.

Which meant Hera had no choice but to forgive Zeus for she was his Queen and he was King. It was their duty to.

But Zeus did not deserve forgiveness. That was something Matthaíos had learned at a young age. A simple truth that spoiled his mind but he would protect his younger twin from it.

At least for a little longer.

"Like who?" The God Apollo asked as he leaned towards Matthaíos his gaze focused on his half-brother, hair made of light shining with a sort of luminescence that allowed no mortal man to gaze for long.

"Our parents…" Matthaíos answered as if it was an obvious question with an obvious answer, but it was actually quite the opposite.

"Ah, I see what you are getting at," Apollo paused for a moment as he thought of Matthaíos's situation. He wished to quell the young boy's worries but Apollo wasn't one to give advice. He was more narcissistic and self-absorbed, therefore he focused less on others and more on his own vanity.

But a part of him wishes he could for he related to Matthaíos in this situation. For, once upon a time, he too wished to stay close with his own twin, Artemis. To stay together with her like when they were in their mother's womb. He didn't wish to achieve the cynic relationship level their parent, Zeus, had with his own wife. And he knew that Matthaíos was now fearing the same thing.

The young god wanted to stay united with his own twin. Sometimes, such things were not meant to be.

"But unfortunately I can't tell the future…

...And neither can you."

The soft echo of Apollo's voice was what woke him.

Matthaíos' eyes flickered open with delirium as he tried to gain his bearing, his striking violet eyes settling upon his twin's face who laid next to them; both lying in comfort in one bed under the security of a warm blanket made of fur.

For as long as he could remember, the two of them always shared the same bed together. They were, quite literally, inseparable and it made Matthaíos' heart soar. He didn't want to lose his twin. He only wished to protect and care for him. It was his duty as the elder and he loved Álfredos unconditionally, unlike the parents who had given them life. This is what made him smile seeing his twin's peaceful and resting face as Álfredos suddenly rolled over with a snore, half of his body now draped over Matthaíos, making the God of Vengeance roll his eyes as he pushed him off with excessive force.

He had things to do, and the God of Justice would not stall him.

Not this time.

Usually, when one was off somewhere the other would follow, unwilling to be separated. So whenever they were apart you can only imagine the separation anxiety it caused. It was so bad that one could simply not leave without the other and it was a serious matter. They both would experience excessive distress, riddled with worry about losing or harm coming to each other when they weren't in the nearest vicinity to each other.

It only grew worse over the first ten years of their existence, and only grew exponentially over the span of a century. Let alone a thousand years. The twin gods would refuse to go to certain places because of fear of separation, and this refusal only escalated to the point where one could not sleep without the other. To the point where if one was gone for more than a couple minutes, the other would experience a complete mental breakdown with the side effect being mental trauma.

Without vengeance, there could be no justice. And without justice, there could be no vengeance.

But this was a risk that Matthaíos was willing to take right now. Afterall, he was doing this for his brother and it had to be a surprise or else everything would fall apart like a house of cards.

But this made him anxious.

He had never done something like this before and he didn't want to hurt Álfredos.

And yet only thirty minutes later he found himself wringing his hands together before Hephaestus as he pounded a hammer against the burning steel of a sword, over an anvil.

"Brother," Matthaíos began as he made his way to the God, not minding at his hideous and deformed features that made his face twisted and pinched together in some places and bulging in others. He was actually particularly fond of the God of Forges and at a very young age he was exposed to his rather humble heart and clung onto that aspect. He admired it, which was quite ironic giving Matthaíos' title as God of Vengeance. But later on Matthew would realize that it wasn't Hephaestus being humble, it was him being brutally honest and cynical.

"I have a small favor to ask of you." Matthaíos couldn't help but feel nervous slightly in front of the powerful God in front of him.

"A favor?" The God asked, as his focus was shifted from his previous work to the young child now interfering with his task. He would rather Matthaíos not be here but he knew that would not happen. It was clear the young God wanted something and even though he didn't mind Matthaíos, he did mind it when he was interrupting his work. "This will have to wait then. I am busy."

Matthaíos bit his bottom lip before he took a deep breath and then got on his knees, seeing Hephaestus turn away from him. He would not allow such a thing to happen so he would do what he did best.

Kill him with kindness.

"Hephaestus, son of Zeus and Hera, God of forges, fire, craftsmen, sculptors, volcanoes, and blacksmiths. I am here today to ask you a favor and in return, I am willing to work under your command until Artemis raises the moon, in return that you craft a sword worthy of my brother Álfredos, God of Justice, using flames of vengeance," Matthaíos spoke with a firm tone.

Hephaestus froze. He had not expected such words to come slipping out of the young God's mouth but it would be wrong to say it wasn't a pleasing surprise. "Flames of vengeance?" He questioned, as he turned his body towards his brother. "I have never worked with such a tool before." His eyes, sparked with interests as he looked at Matthaíos' hands knowing what they were capable of. Knowing what disasters they could spark.

They could make Pompeii look like child's play, for the Flames of Vengeance were hotter than the core of the sun, hotter than Tartarus, and unique for their purple hue that matched it's owner's eyes. It could melt any metal in a split second if it was close enough, and incinerate anything for miles if Matthaíos really put his mind to it.

It was a mark of power that showed that Matthaíos was truly a son of the King and Queen of the Gods of Mount Olympus.

Matthaíos' eyes turned hopeful as he looked at Hephaestus and smiled. "It's a tool that I'm willing to let you use. But, I have to go back to Álfredos soon. I've already been gone too long," he admitted as fear lapsed into his voice.

"Then join me, Matthaíos. We have much work to do."

After that, Matthaíos remembered working his finger practically down to the bone, his violet flames dancing through the air but luckily Hephaestus was immune to it.

For the most part anyway.

But Day turned into Night and Matthaíos found himself running back to his shared chamber. But he had done it. He had achieved the seemingly impossible and now carried with him a sword that would be marveled. A sword that could cut through any metal and withstand the Flames of Vengeance.

It was a gleaming sword made of silver with a soft purple tinge, but stronger than the combined forces of Troy. It was double-edged, straight-bladed, with a two-handed cruciform, pommel and gold quillon block. A sword meant for a person of brute strength that could behead someone without much effort. A sword meant for battle and to make enemies quiver at its very sight.

But none of those aspects are what the God of Vengeance favorited.

No.

He rather adored the scripture that was elegantly scribed across the gleaming metal.

Audi Iuppiter et tu lane Quirine dique omnes caelestes vosque terrestres vosque inferni audite.

"Hear O Jupiter and you too, Janus-Quirico also, and all celestial, terrestrial, and infernal gods hear."

It was the scripture that truly pulled the sword together and made it into a work of art. A sword, when unsheathed, meant a declaration of war because of the words that marked its blade.

Matthaíos smiled slightly as he admired the sword and knew that Álfredos would accept it. And maybe perhaps even treasure it for it was truly a sword of impartiality and equity. It was a sword that would only kill everyone the same, making creatures and mortals equal even in death, under its searing blade.

It was a sword of Justice, and in his brother's hands, he knew he would not be trifled with. He would be protected.

Matthaíos just hoped that Álfredos wouldn't abuse it like Ares did his instruments of war. He was trusting him not to do such a thing and he believed he wouldn't.

He was the God of Justice after all.