Chapter 1: Celestial Union

“Sky was the first who ruled over the whole world. And having wedded Earth...”

- Apollodorus, The Library (~2nd Century CE)

On the wedding night of Ouranos and Gaia, the Primordials cheered for their new ruler. With the blessing of Chaos, no one doubted his right to reign. Ouranos proudly looked upon his bride. As Nyx made nightfall, the other Elder Titans watched with keen interest.

Ouranos the Father Sky, and Gaia the Earth Mother, wore very little; the two easily undressed in the new made realm.

The Elder Primordials observed as Ouranos’ lip crashed against Gaia’s. They could feel his passion and how much he yearned for his new wife. No being could tell Ouranos he was wrong for desiring the very one who birthed him. There was no proper order in the land of Greece. Nothing was right or wrong. They were creating the way of things even with their impending lovemaking, so morality could come later.

To feel the virginal nectar of Gaia’s womanhood was Ouranos’ rightful prize as her husband. He relished every second of her reactions. The audience only heightened his desire.

For their part, the onlookers were excited in new ways. There was happiness for the love observed and lustful jealousy for what they did not have yet. They could not help but watch the Sky Lord’s penis grow erect in desire for his wife and Mother. There was fascination at Ouranos’ penetration of Gaia, who, having never felt the touch of a man, groaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

The other deities wondered if that was how their first coupling would feel. Even as Ouranos buried his manhood into her body, she embraced her new husband. Ouranos felt nothing but pleasure from the act of taking her in his carnal desires. With her cries of ecstasy, mountains formed around them. While Ouranos grunted in satisfaction, storm clouds crashed, thunder howled, and lightning flashed.

With every new act, the two were creating something. Gaia and Ouranos could not be sure as to what their action might make, as they were lost in their lovemaking, and the onlookers were fascinated by the motions of their bodies. The new sexual excitement overtook them until the inevitable wellspring of an orgasm struck. As with the much later descendants, Ouranos’ mighty shaft unleashed a torrent of semen and sperm deep into Gaia’s fertile womb.

They could not know that it had been planted then, nor the consequences that this one act would have, but the other Primordials cheered on Ouranos’ success.

Their primal urges would only fuel the future. After all, what could stop them? These beings were immortal, and death was less than even a dream. What did they have to fear? What could ruin their eternal paradise?

In the Realm below, wonder and beauty had been formed. The land was filled with edifices that touched the sky. The earth was filled with lakes and streams as a reminder of Gaia’s wet arousal. Bountiful loam would grow trees from the fertility of the Earth Primordial. Storm clouds would be born from Father Sky’s passion. Thunder and lightning would come from his rage. Rain would represent his joyous tears from the pleasure with his wife.

Of all of this, however, one structure stood higher and more powerful than any other. Its rocky slopes were of earth good and true. Its highest point would caress the heavens, connecting the mortal realm of Greece to the divine realm of Gaia and Ouranos. It would stand for all time for all to see and marvel at.

It would be called the Mountain of Olympus, home to the divine.

Its existence was an eternal reminder of the union of Gaia and Ouranos. It was of them and not of them. It came from their coital act and yet separated from it. In the years, decades, centuries, and eons that would follow, the origin of this summit would be forgotten, but it would always have a spark of inspiration for onlookers who were amazed by the wonder of the celestial.

Gaia had enjoyed her blissful wedding night, but for all that pleasure, pain came to her months later. Since she was a Primordial, she did not have to carry for nine months, but in half the time, a large baby was born. She found her baby was not one, but three. They each had many heads and even more arms.

When Ouranos saw them, he recoiled in disgust. “These are our children?” Ouranos asked.

“Yes,” Gaia beamed at her babies. “Are they not wonderful?”

“They are revolting!” Ouranos cried out. He looked at the little creatures, comparing them to himself.

As the last being blessed by the creative powers of Chaos, he believed himself to be magnificence itself. He was not far off. His skin was near transparent at times. The sky was a reflection of him, not the other way around. He was power incarnate, crowned by the Progenitor. The heavens obeyed their creator as per the proper order. The beings before him would command nothing.

“But look how strong they are,” Gaia said. “They take after you in that way. I am sure our other children will have your beauty, husband. Just give it time.”

She was a beautifully graceful template for the descendants of her sex to follow. She had curves that flowed from her neck to her ankles as water does from a mountain down to a valley. That was what drew Ouranos to her every day. Her earthy body was just how she was meant to be.

“Fine, but you must be the one to watch over them,” Ouranos ordered. He would not give his wife’s affections up despite the deficiencies of their children.

Gaia nodded with a joyful smile. “Of course, I will care for our children.” She was blissfully unaware of the depths of her husband’s disappointments.

Father Sky believed there must be something that could be done for his inferior specimen. His children could have been so much more. Why could they not be like them? They were, after all, near perfect beings from their Progenitor.

In this young world, Ouranos did not need to work hard to travel. Doors to other Realms, including, but not limited to, Tartarus, were easy enough to find. When Ouranos entered the dark place, he looked around in confusion. Tartarus may have been Ouranos’ uncle, but he was the inverse of the mighty Father Sky. Where Ouranos was powerful, long haired, strong in the chest and arm, Tartarus was frail from head to toe, wrinkled, and had a bald head with long wispy strands of hair poking out from the back of his head.

“Is it getting bigger?” Ouranos wondered, motioning to the realm around them. The eccentricities of the other Primordials fascinated the husband of Gaia.

“Every day it gets bigger,” Tartarus said back disinterestedly. The Sky Primordial held no interest for the Ruler of the Realm. Only the region that surrounded him could keep his attention. For him, everything else would only prove to be a distraction.

“Who will live here?” Ouranos asked. “It is empty.” This particular activity seemed to be a pointless endeavor by Ouranos’ estimation.

“You will all come to live in my hall,” Tartarus said in response to his nephew’s inquiry. He looked up towards the expansive realm, seeing a potential possibility that none of the divinities of the surface and Olympus could see, let alone appreciate.

“I don’t think so,” Ouranos countered confidently. He thought of the Realm below Olympus and above the Underworld. “I shall always rule the heavens and the earth.”

“Will you?” Tartarus mused. While Father Sky was entirely blind to the mannerisms and deaf to the tone, Tartarus could not be more bemused or annoyed by the simplicity of the young deity. The naivety of the youngest Primordial just showed that Chaos was not perfect in their decisions. “Will you become one with the sky?” Tartarus went on. That thought reignited his interest. “I think that is the only way Chaos intends for us to go on forever.”

Ouranos looked at Tartarus, confused. His sibling and uncle could not be serious.

“Become one with the sky?” Ouranos wondered. “Are you becoming one with this place? This Beneath Place? This Under World?”

Tartarus laughed at the stupidity of the question. “I am,” he replied. The dark ruler motioned at his home with both hands. “This will last forever. It will grow to hold all the people that will reside here. If it is living because of me, it will grow and live forever, long after people forget me and only can recall my name.”

The very thought appalled the First King of Olympus. “But to lose your body? Your mind? How can you rule?” Ouranos wondered.

Tartarus restrained a scoff from escaping his lips. “We are not all meant to rule. Maybe some of us are meant to exist, King Ouranos. To experience all that life can be?”

“That is not living,” Ouranos countered, only just realizing the antagonistic attitude of the other Primordial. “That is ... that is something, but it is not living. To live is to rule, to have, and I will have it all.”

Tartarus laughed at the thought. “Oh, you are young, Ouranos. No one, not even Chaos, has it all.” The Last Primordial might have been born days or maybe years or even eons after Nyx, as time was fluid and none of the Primordials understood what day or night meant until the coital act of the King and Queen, but Tartarus could see how foolish youth made a deity.

A glint of ambition sparkled in Father Sky’s eyes. “Maybe not, but we are growing. We cannot simply be limited by what Chaos is. Can we?”

“I suppose not,” Tartarus said offhandedly. “But we are not all going to be like your ambitions, either, Ouranos.”

When Ouranos had no reply, Tartarus returned his attention to his realm. The immature King did not deserve his attention or his very limited time. If Tartarus truly was meant to become one with his realm and his very essence would remove his consciousness for that task, he would not waste another iota of thought on the foolish ambition on the youngest Primordial.

Nyx looked upon the little creatures that had many hands. “What will you call them?”

The question was honest. The Chthonic Deity did not understand the point or purpose of the new beings. Surely there was one. Chaos would not allow such life to be brought into the living world without some intention, would they?

“Well, I have named the first one, Cottus. The second one there,” Gaia said, motioning at the one with twelve arms and crawling away, “Briareos. And the last one to be born is Gyges.”

Nyx let out a laugh to the answer. “No, not their names, Gaia. Though, those are beautiful names. What are they called? They are not Primordials like we are. They are different, something new.” The Night inspected all three children with a keen eye. “They each have more arms than us, but they are not like you and of the Earth. They are not darkness and shadow like me. Their form seems stuck. But I can see more little arms growing on your tiny creatures.” Though she called them creatures, Nyx was nothing but doting to the newborns.

To that, Gaia struggled to reply. “I am not sure, yet. Maybe Chaos gives them to us so they can be different.” Embarrassment flushed her face. She did not want to look a fool to her younger sibling.

Nyx laughed again, but with more cheer so her sister could see it was not intended to be cruel. “Come on, Gaia! Chaos did not give them to you,” Nyx corrected. “We gave them to us. Chaos gave us life with choice, but we give ourselves the gifts we have.”

“That makes it worth all the effort,” Gaia said, doting on her creations. Glad to have Nyx’s approval, Mother Earth looked over her sister. “Will you have children, Nyx? Chaos called you “Mother Night.” Mother means you will have children.”

The Primordial of Night stalled. Nyx considered the question. Neither Tartarus nor Erebus had said anything to her. Wherever Eros was, and Chaos only knew where that was, he was not inquiring about Nyx’s romantic future nor the prospects of children.

“Maybe I will,” Nyx answered slowly. To answer quickly and with confidence felt like she would be lying to her sister. Nyx felt she knew the least out of her trueborn siblings, but what she did know, she knew as firm as the blackest night. What she guessed at was fuzzy at best. “But if Ouranos is an example of what fathers will be like,” she went on cautiously, “I might have children without them, as you did with him.”

“Will you marry them?” Gaia asked excitedly. Perhaps the Primordial women were meant to create and carry their ideal partners. She almost wished it were that simple.

“No. I think I shall have my children to raise and love, but not to marry,” Nyx said, shaking her head. “We have a long time for me to find out.”