The years passed in molasses.

Ever-ageing Time waited on no man nor woman.

A coffin of glass laid unmoving in the main courtyard of Castellan, and inside, the daughter of the sea laid bare for all to see.

(With a heavy heart, it is Apóllōn and Hermês who preserve her body from falling victim to the rays of Hêlios. Her spirit hovered within the veil between the living and the dead as Háidēs refused her entry into his realm.)

It was only three years after everything that had occurred and Sparta was still feeling the aftermath. Poseidón and Apóllōn had raged for weeks.

It had taken the combined strength of the entire Olympian council alongside the council of the Halioi to keep the two from wiping the kingdom off the map.

It was shameful really as Amyklas, son of Lakedaimon, remembered how Poseidón sent forth a beast to rage against the lands of Troy after King Laomedon refused payment and gratitude for their glorious walls. And now years later, his daughter fell victim to a fatal strike that was fated for the son of Amyklas.

Oh, how Amyklas grieved.

He should have known that this day would come when his daughters, Phylonoe and Polyboea carried up to heaven by the goddess Fates whilst in the service of the goddess Artemis. And when he saw all the suitors that loved his son... he should have known that his time with Huákinthos would end prematurely.

The king had grieved loudly as his heart threatened to spill from his body. He had fallen sick on his deathbed, clinging to Life like a child to a toy. His youngest child... his beautiful beloved son.

There had been days where he could not see it fit to move himself from Huákinthos' side even as Poseidón raged against the entire country of Lacedaemon.

Even as Apóllōn had to be halted in his pursuit of Zephyros, chasing after the west wind as the wrath that he usually secreted away in his smile lit his eyes like a funeral pyre. It had taken the soothing words of Artemis and the harsh truths of Hermês to be convinced to go away to Delos to make peace with grief and fury for he had done something that he may regret.


Lucian, Dialogues of the Gods 16 (trans. Fowler) (Greek satire C2nd A.D.) :

Hermês: Huákinthos? he is not dead?

Apóllōn: Dead.

Hermês: Who killed him? Who could have the heart? That lovely boy!

Apóllōn : It was the work of my own hand.

Hermês: You must have been mad!

Apóllōn : Not mad; it was an accident.

Hermês: Oh? and how did it happen?

Apóllōn : He was learning to throw the quoit, and I was throwing with him. I had just sent my quoit up into the air as usual, when jealous Zephyros (damned be he above all winds! he had long been in love with Huákinthos, though Huákinthos would have nothing to say to him)-Zephyros came blustering down from Taygetos, and dashed the quoit upon the child's head; blood flowed from the wound in streams, and in one moment all was over. My first thought was of revenge; I lodged an arrow in Zephyros, and pursued his flight to the mountain. As for the child, I buried him at Amyklai, on the fatal spot; and from his blood I have caused a flower to spring up, sweetest, fairest of flowers, inscribed with letters of woe.-Is my grief unreasonable?

Hermês: It is, Apóllōn. You knew that you had set your heart upon a mortal: grieve not then for his mortality."


King Amyclas had not been ready to abdicate his throne, but he was too sick with grief and felt too much fear when the children of Castellan arrived.

Their eyes danced in the shrill frenzy of Lyssa as their words were coated in painful Ponos.

A wide berth had been given to them as they gathered around the daughter of the god who sustains and who shakes the earth. Not that they notice as they focus all their attention onto one of their own, blind to how they garner attention from just their mere presence.

The gods above and below, under and around, had all watched them from their various locations across Greece.

They were dressed in strange black yet greenish clothes that complimented their features. It was easy to see that they were children of gods as their features were too ethereal to be mere mortals.

And though Apóllōn had done everything that he could, the group of them still insisted on trying to treat her with sea water.

The son of the aforementioned god had continuously tried to heal her, nearly burning her and himself from the divinity if it had not been for the breaks that were enforced by the son of Háidēs.

And yet there was nothing that could compare to the wails that her brother cried. It shook them to their core as the world bends to his will if he so commands it. Sparta knew no peace even after the arrival of the daughter of Zeus whose power mixed with her cousin.

Perseús had begged and pleaded and screamed for their threads to be intertwined once more. He pounded his fist against the earth, demanding the attention of the Moirai to return his sister to him. He sought forgiveness for not being closer to the one person who shared his soul as he had never known life without his sister and he never wanted to know either.

It was his pleas that gained the attention of Anankê who recognized her own power woven around them. She had given her word that not all hope was lost as she examined the comatize girl. The jewel of the sea had been pushing herself well over her limit since the day she learned to crawl, but she would live as the twelve of them still had roles to play.

Once word had gotten out that the children were under the protection and care of not only the Moirai but the protogenos of necessity, compulsion and inevitability; it had been in the best interest of all to not lay death on their souls for she and her mate Khronos were beyond the reach of the younger gods whose fates they were sometimes said to control.

Though the godlings did not forget the prince that laid unconscious in the medical center of his own kingdom. They gave him prayers of a speedy recovery and well wishes even as they saw the flowers that sprung up from his blood.

(Even as Nico saw that the way the boy clung to life was nothing more than a goal of a fool.)

The soul of the prince sang with delight when Apóllōn visited and whispered the news to his still body.

The god knew that if his beloved was awakened, the prince would be moved to tears. Despite both their love for Apollôn, he had come to see the younger as a reluctant friend. Apóllōn knew how Huákinthos watched with keen eyes the way she battled with words against the nation's advisors. The way her eyes lit up in happiness as she trained and explored the kingdom.

Apóllōn recalled an old conversation with the prince. He had stated that he could see the god falling in love with her. And though it was presumptuous to assume he had any right to the god's affection and who he shared it with, he had been relieved to find out that Apóllōn only cared for him.

Though it was also absurd to believe that Apóllōn was falling for the sharp-tongue girl.

Though it was that conversation that came to mind whenever he remembered how the girl appeared within the winds, yelling GET BACK, as she took the full force of the strike for Huákinthos. There had been panic and grief in the voice of her brother as she crumbled to the ground. Their shared power had whipped around them, drawing Zephyros to the ground, throwing Huákinthos and gaining the attention of the gods above them.

The guards had rushed forward in alarm as Krókos fell to his knees beside Apóllōn who could do nothing but cradle them in his arms as all his remedies were powerless to heal the wounds of Fate.

It made the son of Lētṓ furious to know that the west wind would face no repercussions as it was his first offense as he was so usually kind and loving. How heartbreaking it must be for the mortals that fell victim to the wrath of Poseidón as he sent storm after storm at the heels of Zephyros who was caught in a never ending circle of fleeing as Apóllōn was always waiting with his arrows freshly sharpened for him.

(Of course, Father Ζεύς would not punish the god, but he said nothing of letting them take revenge for themselves.)

(Zephyros had thought he was safe when he hid within the wild but he forgot that the wild was the domain of Artemis and she let no grievance go unpunished in the name of her twin.)

Apóllōn and Poseidón swore to make Zephyros' eternal life terrifying, knowing that they had multiple gods on their sides. The wrath of Árēs had been ignited when he bore witness to his daughter, crying and pleading over the body of her best friend. "Not again. Please, gods. Not again," she had said.

Even sweet, little Hermês had been ready to lay waste to the west wind god once it became clear that his dearest friend was not waking up. The herald had been spurred on by Haidês who wished to drag the wind god into his realm and throw him into the land of the damned for his hand against his darling niece.

(Ariadnê loved to visit the realm, bringing news of the upper land with her and the meals that Katie cooked for them personally. She would spend her time gardening with Persephónē, gossiping with the various daimona in the realm, she played with Kerberos, and danced around happily in a realm that most would deem gloomy.)

Her family had taken her back home where their citizens fell to their knees at the sight of her. They had been hesitant to lay her body out so publicly where the elements could get to her and for everyone to gawk at her.

(She had wanted to be out of the shadow of Perseús, but not like this.)

It was with his great reluctance when the only non-divine mortal child spoke of how her viewing would bring in tourism and that she would hate to wake up in the medical center. She told them of how taking her back to their "home" would do nothing more than agitate the gods due to their blocked sight of her.

And thus, they built her the most grandest glass box to lay within. She was placed gently on the covers within, and there was more than enough space for someone to climb in and sit alongside her. They had chiseled words into the stained glass.

Apóllōn thought he heard them mention something about a snow white and the seven dwarves. Whatever that may be.

Annabeth had woven a beautiful duvet in which they used to cover the box and removed every morn. There was an ocean blue fabric wrapped around her sensually, leaving her arms, legs, and stomach bare as it covered her breasts and maiden hood.

It worked well with bringing in tourists and the kingdom continued to flourish.

As such, the gods had been quite content with turning their attention elsewhere, namely the hunt for Zephyros as he fled those that chased after him.

Though when he was not tormenting the west wind, Hermês ventured within the mind of Ariadnê, falling into her dreams as they welcomed him with open arms.

Hermês could tell just from the scenes decorating Ariadnê's mind. It was almost as if the girl was simply asleep and not in a coma. Being inside of her head and watching as the bubble of dreams swarmed around her. It was nothing short of beautiful. There were some that he couldn't reach with scenes he had not borne witness to.

The twins of the sea fighting back to back next to a golden pile of rocks. A hand that was plunging itself within Ariadnê' chest resulting in her eyes popping open glowing as golden as the sun. Ariadnê was furiously banging her shield on top of a monstrous spider forcing it to drop Annabeth. The demigoddess smiled mockingly as she clenched her fist and the gorgon sisters began to choke on their blood. He saw himself ruffling the godling's hair as she practiced learning to fight with his kerykeion. He saw multiple images of himself bringing her to a state of climax as ecstasy washed over the two. He saw the sweet and gentle kisses the two of them shared.

He saw the love within their eyes.

But as soon he drew closer to the images, they would abruptly disappear with the Moirai whispering that it wasn't time for answers.

Hermês didn't understand why he felt such a connection to the godling. It was as if he was watching a lover, younger sibling, and his child all in one. It was a familiar yet foreign feeling.

He knew that she was to awaken soon if the way that the bubbles flew towards her and sank into her skin or burst right above. Her mind vibrated with power before the scene changed.

When he first entered her dreamscape, it was completely dark with her memories being the only things that brought color. Now in the three years she laid asleep, she laid upon shores similar to those of Delos. Waves upon waves washed over her like a never ending blanket. The sun curled around the top of her head like a crown. She looked peaceful in a way that she rarely did when she was awakened.

He knew that Perseús commented on that frequently.

Hermês moved forward before sitting beside her and grasping her hand in his. He gasped aloud at what he was seeing.

You can have my golden apple if you're the fairest of them all.

The fruit was so alluring sitting in front of her. Ariadnê wanted it for herself. She nearly snarled when she saw the hands of others reaching out for what was rightfully hers.

They forget about my love of war and how I look at bloodshed with glee. They should know what happens when you let discord run free.

Ariadnê wanted to join in. Her blood screamed to rain down storms and shake the very earth. But she was held back by eyes as dark as the night sky peered at the chaos surrounding them. There was mix of cruelty and amusement in that gaze. Ariadnê felt as if she should know who this was.

You wanted to tame the beautiful Helénē, but you could never tame something so wild.

The girl was beautiful to put it simply. Her hair was alluring honey blonde falling down hair back. Her eyes crackled with power that she hid behind a smile. Ariadnê remembered that she was the daughter of Ζεύς. She was far more dangerous than just being a pretty face.

And Paris you stole me away like an alluring prize you get to keep and every night I prayed for the end of troy while you laid beside me fast asleep.

Ariadnê gasped as it was like looking at her own body being pinned by the man's body. Who did he think he was having his hands on her like that? From the scowl on her face, it would seem that dream version of her thought the same.

You all forget that my true father is the mighty king golden ichor runs through my veins.

Ariadnê could feel phantom fingers running through her hair. The smell of ozone was strong in the air as the two children of the Kronidês looked at each other through the mirror. Two pairs of blue eyes met each other promising revenge on those that forsaken them.

I am Ariadnê of no one but myself and you cannot keep a goddess chained.

Troy may have been the one Apóllōn sided with, but Ariadnê had always been her Father's child. As the soldiers emerged from the wooden horse, Ariadnê and Helénē raised their arms to the heavens and called for the destruction of this godforsaken kingdom.

Hermês stumbled away from her as he exited her mind. He needed to tell his family of this and soon. Without a second thought, he flew into the air and sped off to Olympos.

In his haste, he didn't see the blue eyes fluttering open.


WORD COUNT: 2,804

COMMENTS FROM THE AUTHOR:

1) Lines from urbanpoetry on tiktok. These are a mix of Helénē and Eris' poems.