Chapter 6: The Curse Unveiled

“ ... A fear felt by his Father Cronos. A fear that brought the Great War. A fear that drove Zeus to kill you ... his own son. Just as Zeus was compelled to destroy his father, Cronos. You are compelled to do the same. No son should destroy his own father.”

- Athena, God of War 2 (2008)

One week later...

When morning came, as the sun began to cast its golden light over Olympus, Rhea slowly returned to Ouranos’ Palace. She had slept on what she had done and then some. So much of who she was had reminded her that what she did was wrong. Still, part of her was not sure what to do, as she had gone back to him multiple times in that week.

She could not tell Cronos. While he was considered strong when they were kids, and surely that must have increased with time, he was also the youngest of the Titans. In a battle of force and skills, Ouranos would overwhelm one such as Cronos. It was entirely possible that all of the Titans working together might prove no match for their Primordial Sky Father.

Rhea could not pretend her father’s skillful attention did not arouse her. His love was meaningful to her in ways that Cronos’ affections just were not. Not that Cronos was not important; it was different with the Sky King. Rhea was coming to terms with that. She did not want to weigh one as more important than the other, but to look at them as if they were the same, or even equal, would be a lie.

Had Ouranos always felt something for her? Were his feelings for her new? Was it right for her to continue to see him?

She stood at the entrance to the opulent chambers where, only a day before, her father had ravished her, as he had every day since he first had his way with her. He could not only want her one night or even one week for that matter. Could he?

That was when an even darker, more horrendous thought crossed her mind. What if this were all a game to her father? What if this was just a momentary fancy like when Rhea was a child and enjoyed a stone, only to discard it when she found a gem?

Rhea was starting to understand there were many delicate paths that she was balancing. She had an engagement to Cronos to consider. He would never know what Ouranos did to her, but most importantly, Ouranos’ wants and happiness were essential to Olympus and the Realm below.

But what of her happiness? What did Rhea truly desire? Had she wanted her father’s attention when he had given it to her? Yes, of course. Why else would she keep returning to the palace?

When she saw her father standing beside his throne, Rhea ran and wrapped her arms around him. In the end, for her, it was that simple. She wanted to be wanted by her kingly father.

Their lips met instinctively, and she poured all of her loving devotion into him. Before she knew it, Ouranos enveloped Rhea as if to return all of her longing desire. Lifting his prize into the air, she could see the celebration in his eyes.

When she felt him re-enter her as easily as he had the day before, Rhea knew there was nothing more to think about. She allowed the waves of pleasure to direct them both as he carried her to his chambers. Never would she allow his fervor for her to wane. This was what Rhea wanted, needed. When they fell onto his bed, she let the rapturous experience take her.

Gaia did not know what she would do. The Titans were still coming into their own, and she could not get them to do anything together. They were as different as different as could be.

Sitting in her Realm, she thought of the rebellious nature of the Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires. They had been right: she was too blind to see that they were aware of Ouranos’ cruelty and evil blatantly before her. They could have been able to stop Ouranos if Gaia had not stood by and allowed him to do as he pleased.

Had she stood with her children, they would have been victorious, and it would have been Ouranos bound in the Underworld instead of her children. Even the addition of Cronos could have made the difference.

Reinvigorated, Gaia made her way to the depths of Tartarus, where the Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires were held captive. She wondered if it would be difficult to find her children. After all, Tartarus was an ever-changing landscape. She walked through the dark halls. Moving her fingers over the wall, she eventually felt the difference between cavernous rock and a smooth, linked chain. Excitement coursed through her.

“Gyges? Brontes?” Gaia called, as only a mother could, for her children.

“Mother?” the weakened voice of Briareus said. He was struggling to breathe. That was not what Chaos had intended for the divine. “You came for us.”

“I did,” Gaia said, looking at her six children. Each had grown thin in such a short time. “What has happened to you?”

“The chain...” Gyges coughed. He was struggling against his bonds. “We made it to drain the essence of those bound in them.”

Gaia grabbed the chain with great vigor and attempted to rip and tear at the metal binding her children. Gaia screamed and wailed, using all the determination at her disposal. Still, the chain would not budge or unclasp.

“We made the chain from indestructible metal, mother,” Briareus coughed out. “Only the one who bound us can unbind us.”

Gaia wailed in frustration. “Fuck!” Her hope was not shattering; it was melting by the moment.

“It does not help that Tartarus is unkind to those like you,” another voice said, entering the conversation.

“Nyx!” Gaia gasped. “What do you mean?”

Mother Night gracefully appeared from her shadows. Gaia turned to see her sister in her colors of a diamond starlight necklace, a dress of black night, and skin of pale moonlight.

“This Realm has its own rules, Gaia,” the Night Primordial explained. “Your very Realm endows you with the magical power that courses through you. The same is true for me here. I could not stay in the land of Greece and not feel my power slightly wane. The logic must be applied to you in reverse, Sister. If you stay too long, you would either need to become a creature of darkness, or feel your capabilities decline until you return to your lands.”

“Wonderful!” Gaia shouted, throwing her hands up even as tears welled in her eyes. “Not only have I hurt my children for a husband who has hurt me, but I have trapped them in the one place where they will wither.”

“So, it would appear,” Nyx replied, not without compassion. “To be Queen is difficult.” The Night Primordial reached out a hand of kindness onto the Earth Primordial’s shoulder.

“What am I to do?” Gaia pleaded with a tearstained face. She faced her Chthonic sibling, feeling powerless. “My children are the only ones who could topple Ouranos.”

Nyx shook her head. “I do not have the answer,” Nyx replied with a struggle. She reached out and hugged Gaia. That felt like the right thing to do.

The Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires watched the two Primordials struggle. For years, both sets of siblings believed the Primordials to be unwaveringly untouchable. They were the children of Chaos after all. With how much Ouranos had disregarded the Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires, the six children assumed that the other Primordials either supported his decisions or simply did not care for their existence whatsoever.

To see their mother cry tears for them brought hope for their freedom to the Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires. More than that, they could see, each in their own way, that their mother did love them. The villain, and source of their suffering, was purely Ouranos. Only he should have their hatred. For their mother, forgiveness and love should be given.

Briareus, the mightiest of Gaia’s offspring, spoke. His words were barely audible. “Go to Cronos. We have given him weapons to defend against our father.”

The others might have looked at him with fear or shock before the tears, but after their mother’s honest display, they knew their only chance at freedom lay with the youngest Titan.

“But he is so young,” Gaia replied.

“The weapons will make all the difference,” Gyges weakly added in a show of support. The six siblings looked away from their mother; they would say no more. Gaia kissed her fingertips and touched the chain that bound her children. She knew she would free them one day, one way or another.

Ouranos grunted, pinning Rhea to his bed, showering her lips and neck with kisses. Oh, how he longed to keep playing with her. She was his to keep. Every moment he was inside of her was proof of that.

He kept himself between her legs, feeling his seed seeping out of her slowly. Possessively, he longed to stay inside to make his orgasmic approval over her even more apparent to her. She returned his kiss, letting him know he was allowed to have all he desired.

He enfolded her in his arms and enjoyed her soft touch against him.

“Father?” she asked after a moment.

Ouranos paused, fearing she would make him stop. Even as he waited for her to continue, a crueler thought ran through his mind: Would he stop?

Rhea’s concern was painted onto her face. “What happens now?”

“You still plan to marry Cronos, Little One?” The Primordial King asked.

Rhea hesitated. Ouranos did not know why; she had asked for his blessing to be with the youngest Titan.

“I do,” she answered, unsure of herself and his reaction. He was King of Olympus, crowned by Chaos. She could do nothing that went against the most powerful being in their Realm.

“Then he will be your husband,” Ouranos said with limitless assuredness. His words and tone made it seem as if he were still doing nothing but being the supportive father.

“Will you no longer see me? “ Rhea asked. The desperate fear in her eyes told the Primordial King all he needed to know about the depths of her devotion to him. She paused again before adding, “Like this?”

“You may come to see me like this as long as you want, Little One,” Ouranos answered. He realized Rhea had put herself in the perfect trap. She could not denounce Cronos publicly. If she did, her siblings would wonder why, and for her to stop would risk the Last Primordial’s wrath. She was his to have in secret forevermore. If only she had thought through her actions. What a silly girl.

“Oh yes, Father,” Rhea sang.

She kissed him tenderly, pulling his hardening phallus back into her. Ouranos groaned at the possibility of impregnating his stolen prize. Her young, supple body was something to behold. Ouranos wondered what changes she would undergo through the ages. An even darker thought crossed his mind: Would he need to replace her as time went on?

Cronos was not one for the grand halls of Olympus. He could not stand the Realm his father had made; something about the emptiness was unsettling.