{Author's Note:} Thank you for taking the time to read my work. Moving forward, I'm committed to delivering longer, more immersive chapters on a regular basis—likely once a week, perhaps even twice, if the support is strong. I've made some revisions to the dialogue and overall narrative, aiming to elevate the emotional intensity and depth, while still keeping in some humor. I probably wont go back and edit but ill try to make things more I've made some revisions to the dialogue and overall narrative, aiming to elevate the emotional intensity and depth. Let me know what you think in the comments.
[Poseidon POV]
Plunging into the abyss felt like an eternity, an experience akin to freefalling through a cosmic abyss to the haunting rhythm of never-ending elevator music. The encompassing darkness swathed me, rendering my own hand a vague and distant concept. Amidst the monotony, fleeting moments of respite emerged as I dozed intermittently, a brief reprieve from the ceaseless choreography of sidestepping cosmic debris that passed for sustenance. And then, of course, there was the occasional 'delight' of encountering my father's peculiar brand of humor – his saliva. He was truly a character to behold, the sort who would thoughtlessly dispatch even Mother's most vulnerable guards for the sheer purpose of striking up a casual chat with me. Not even the handmaids were spared from the enigma of his ruthless spree.
"I'm going to make sure he gets the grand tour of suffering. For every ounce of torment he's inflicted, every tear Mother shed, every loyal soul he's consigned to the afterlife. And certainly, for that spine-chilling spectacle he subjected me to."
After an undefined descent, a surge of pain jolted me back to the realm of consciousness, momentarily rousing me before relinquishing me once more to the tender grasp of unconsciousness. Upon regaining awareness, I found myself sprawled upon a beach, encircled by a trio of women and a solitary man. Presumably, my siblings. Yet, the maelstrom of emotions within me left scant room for any sentimental family reunion. Thus, with an aura befitting Poseidon, I was poised to articulate my agitation when—bam!—my limbs underwent a mystifying transformation, morphing into unwieldy logs. Only my eyes remained under my control, searching for the invisible hand responsible for this perplexing spectacle.
Guess who was orchestrating this enigmatic performance? None other than Hades himself. He exuded an air of someone ready to dispense pearls of wisdom on the subject of sibling dynamics, as if doling out brochures on the etiquette of familial interactions. The insubstantial strings finally released their hold, returning dominion over my corporeal form to my consciousness.
Naturally, I was primed for confrontation. No more puppetry antics—just a direct confrontation, mano-a-mano, or in our case, godo-a-godo. I signaled my intent with a flourish worthy of the gods, the fervor of my anger intensifying the impact of my words.
"Hades, what cowardly ruse did you just employ on me? My mobility was stolen from me. Attempt to face me without resorting to such stratagems!"
"Hahaha, indeed, a valid request. I was hoping to engage in a bit of combat training. I'm of the belief that you'll make for a formidable sparring partner, especially during these initial bouts. Shall we engage in a bout without the use of weaponry?"
"Of course, dear brother. Allow me to unveil the extent of my prowess to both you and our sisters. Come, let us commence immediately."
Confidence radiated from every fiber of my being. After all, a glance at Hades revealed a figure that was lean and nimble, while I embodied the very essence of divine brawn. It seemed like an incongruous match. Armed with my divine arsenal of knowledge, particularly the section dedicated to the art of combat, victory appeared as certain as the tides. It was high time to wipe the self-assured grin off Hades' countenance.
I surged forth like a tempest, narrowing the distance to serve Hades a slice of the storm I was capable of. My fist honed in on its target, ready to deliver a decisive blow. But just as I was on the cusp of delivering my message with a fist, Hades sidestepped with the grace of a seasoned dancer. Before my "Oops, I missed" expression could solidify, my legs were swept from under me. A cacophony of collision—my head meeting the sand—sounded like an ethereal wake-up call.
From the pit of humility, coated with sand and humility, Hades' voice reached me—a blend of fraternal concern and a dash of "I told you so." With a sigh marked by reluctant agreement, I accepted his extended hand. The unspoken message seemed to whisper, "Lesson learned, dear brother." His words chafed, yet their kernel of truth was undeniable. Thus, grumbling my begrudging acceptance, I brushed off both grains of pride and sand, rising to my feet and preparing for round two.
And so, the second round commenced. This time, I approached cautiously, fists raised as if I moonlighted as a pugilist in celestial leagues. Hades, on the other hand, stood stalwart, an oasis of tranquility amidst the tempest. My jab found its mark on his chin, yet he stood resolute, immovable. A flicker of self-doubt sneaked in—had I been earnest enough in my training? Yet his chin, steadfast and unwavering, confirmed my capabilities.
Still within striking range, I launched another punch, yet déjà vu seized me—I was moving in slow motion. Swift as a panther, Hades evaded, and before an eyebrow could arch in inquiry, his knee greeted my face in a swift and precise dance. Once more, I found myself sprawled, the very epitome of gracelessness.
"Brother, let's take a moment to recuperate. Your recent healing may have left you fatigued. We can continue our sparring at a later juncture, should you desire."
"Indeed, your reasoning seems sound, brother. I shall return promptly after my reawakening, so be prepared."
"Hahahahah, naturally."
[Rhea's POV]
Running through the dense, shadowed forest, my heart races in tandem with the rhythm of my pounding footsteps. The verdant surroundings blur as tears threaten to obscure my vision, but I press on, my every gasping breath a reminder of the agony I've endured.
My mind involuntarily drifts back to that fateful moment when my nightmare first took root, entangling me in its cruel grasp. It was the birth of my precious first son, Hades, that marked the beginning of my descent into this abyss of despair. The memory of Cronos, my own brother and husband, devouring his own innocent child – our child – remains etched in my psyche, an indelible scar on my soul.
Foolishly, I allowed myself to be swayed by Cronos' honeyed words and hollow assurances. A daughter, I birthed for him this time, hoping against hope that it would quell his insatiable hunger for power and dominance. But hope turned to ashes as I watched him snatch away our infant daughter, Hestia, just moments after I had christened her with a mother's love. I was powerless, my maternal instincts rendered impotent before his monstrous appetite.
Yet, my gravest error lay in my subsequent naivety, my stubborn belief that change was possible, that goodness could somehow eclipse his darkness. I bore two more daughters, my belly swelling with the weight of my misplaced trust. During those pregnancies, I was confined to my chambers, Cronos feigning concern, tightening his grip on me with false affection. Each act of supposed tenderness fueled my desperate yearning for a glimmer of humanity within him.
The day of birth arrived, and with it, the revelation of my delusion. Cronos, the tormentor, the despoiler, the embodiment of monstrosity, unveiled himself once more. He didn't just rob me of my offspring; he violated the sanctity of my body, a final affront to my womanhood. Then, I was cast back into my gilded prison, my world reduced to an unending cycle of suffering and humiliation.
With Poseidon's birth, the pattern repeated – my body a vessel for his unspeakable desires, my soul a barren wasteland where hope dared not tread. Cronos reveled in my torment, his sadism flaunted before our own kin, who cowered in complicit silence. Their averted gazes, their cowardly retreat – each cut deeper than the last, a betrayal more profound than any blade.
As the cycle continued, I turned to our Mother, Gaia, in my darkest hours. Her divine intervention granted me a shred of agency. She broke the chains that bound me, guiding me through the very earth itself to freedom. Her promise of an eventual reunion was a lifeline of hope, a beacon in my desolation.
And so, I flee, the underbrush whipping against my body like the echoes of my torment. My journey is a symphony of pain, a crescendo of suffering that reverberates through every fiber of my being. I'm no longer just Rhea, the mother and wife, but a survivor, a warrior against the monstrous darkness that once consumed me.