Chapter 1: The Birth of Aether

“Birth is the sudden opening of a window, through which you look out upon a stupendous prospect. For what has happened? A miracle. You have exchanged nothing for the possibility of everything.”

William Macneile Dixon

In the land of Greece, there stood an edifice of rock and stone that kissed the heavens with the intimacy of a love. This seemingly natural structure was made from the coupling of two children of the ineffable, unknowable Progenitor called Chaos. From its rock to its slopes to the snow-like cloudy heights, the monument was a testament to the majestic magnificence of the divine. Olympus stood as a unique place, both in the Land of Greece and the plane of the Titans.

Around the erected habitation, clouds swirled in a blackish torrent. The clash of rain and light was in full swing. As the storm raged outside of the beautiful city, casting dark shadows across all of Olympus, Rhea screamed in her bedchamber within the Grand Palace.

Thunder roared and lightning flashed to ominously illuminate the room with sporadic bursts of light. The Titaness Queen was in the throes of labor. Her face was etched with determination, but a hint of pain wormed its way as she clutched the edges of the bed. For all the joys of conception, she was discovering that birth would be an agonizing experience for most mothers for all time.

Gaia served as the midwife, helping Rhea bring forth the first of the next generation of Titans. The Primordial essence of Earth looked from her daughter to her Titan King of a son.

Cronos, the aforementioned Titan King, stood nearby. His eyes never left Rhea. His features were tense with apprehension and unease. He stared intently at the child being brought into the world as well as the mother to the child. Finally, amidst the storm’s mayhem, a cry of frail power pierced the air.

The boy’s wails were the first cries of the next generation of the Titans. The room fell into a reverent silence as all eyes turned towards the source. So much was unsaid as the baby was lifted up by Mother Earth.

Gaia carefully gave the firstborn to Rhea, who reached out joyfully for him. Rhea’s eyes were only for her son. If love was the metric by which any mother was graded, Rhea would have been seen as the greatest in her class.

Gaia exchanged a worried look with Cronos. Cronos, for his part, looked at the child with the greatest scrutiny before realizing his mother was watching him with the same analytical eyes. Did she see what he saw?

“Aether,” Rhea muttered. “His name is Aether.” For her part, all that mattered in all of Olympus was her child. The thrones, siblings, parents, powers, and thoughts of the past or future were entirely irrelevant to her when compared to the bundle of joy in her arms.

The Titan siblings gathered into the room to celebrate their new Prince. They had not been in the birthing room, so as to give Rhea privacy in her most intimate moments of birth, which was much more than Gaia had been given when she first christened her marriage or birthed her first children.

While the others excitedly looked at Aether, Cronos flashed Rhea a glance of disapproval. She could sense her husband’s agitation even if she only barely acknowledged her husband’s look. To her, the baby was far more important than he. For all the pain and exhaustion of childbirth, Rhea found a radiant joy in holding her son. Aether was her baby boy, a wonderful life who would bring so much to Rhea’s.

Cronos stopped looking at his wife. No matter his position amongst everyone present, he would be unable to disguise his suspicious disgust at Rhea. He returned his look to his mother. If any could understand the pain of betrayal he was suffering, it would be her.

There was a sad recognition of her son’s irritation on Gaia’s face. Though he was the King of the Titans, she still saw the honest loving boy on his features. She would have to be his balm and dutiful servant in the days to come if she was to save him from falling into the pits of despicable atrocity like his father had.

While the celebration of Aether’s birth continued, a mother and son stepped away. Gaia and Cronos went to another room, away from the others, so as not to be heard.

For her part, Gaia stood tensely. Her son’s reaction was seared into her mind, which gave her a good idea of what would be said.

Cronos did not disappoint her. “That is not ... my ... son!” The King of the Titans roared.

“You can’t be positive of that,” Gaia countered hastily. She raised both her hands in a hope to placate him. If he gave in to his rage, there would be no way to help him. “You and Rhea made love many times around the same time of conception. There is a good chance Aether is your child.”

“His power, his bearing... “ Cronos struggled to say in his rage. He motioned to the other room with his enormous hand. “That’s the son of Ouranos! He is not mine! I won’t raise him, Gaia!”

When she saw that reason would not reach him, Gaia’s countenance changed. “Do you really feel comfortable taking his life like you took your father’s?” Gaia asked coldly. Her question was a stark reminder of his unique position.

Before Cronos killed Ouranos, no one knew what death was. By taking Father Sky’s life, the Time Titan achieved his vengeance but realized how frail anyone’s life could be, including his own.

Cronos froze at the accusation. After a moment’s pause to collect himself, he looked at the Primordial Mother of the Titans.

“What would you have me do?” Cronos wondered. They both understood the implication of the question. He would be rid of the child. What would it take for Gaia to accept his justified anger

“Prove the child’s paternal half,” Mother Earth said with the clarity of crystal.

“How?” Cronos asked suspiciously.

Gaia looked from Cronos to the world below, indicating what she meant.

Cronos looked upon her as if she had lost the entirety of her mind. “But Father was undone by them,” he breathed in disbelief.

“The way I understand it, your father was outdone by believing he could control them,” Gaia explained. She could see disbelief on her son’s face. “If I come to them respectfully, they might be willing to help me.”

Cronos sat in a free chair and waved his mother away. “Very well,” he said, conceding to her suggestion. She could see that even he recognized how important Gaia would be to his rule. “Go. Go to them. If it can yield the truth, one way or the other, it will be worth it.”

Gaia found the Realm of Tartarus to be far less lonely than the world above. Despite helping her children more recently, she had felt isolated after her husband’s betrayal and then death. When she was in the Underworld, however, Gaia was not even aware of her surroundings. All she could feel was wrapped up in the love of her brother.

Her thoughts of Tartarus were broken up by the slow, consistent shaking within the Underworld. She could feel and hear the gigantic steps of another Primordial. When she looked in the direction of the sound, she found that her husband, Ouranos, came into sight.

To see him so soon after his demise left Gaia conflicted. She reached out for him entirely on instinct before stopping herself. He seemed too pale to be her husband, emptier, lesser somehow. She could not understand what it was.

It would be best to leave him alone. What was there to say to him? He had betrayed her to lay with their daughter. He had betrayed her trust in a marriage gifted to them by the Progenitor. Such a selfishly horrendous act should have left Gaia feeling nothing but hatred for Ouranos, and yet, he was still her husband even in death.

A not insubstantial part of her longed to touch her husband, to kiss him, and return to the way things were before his selfishness, but that was not the way of the world. She knew she could only go forward, not backwards. Her hand fell back to her side when she recalled her mission for Cronos.

Shaking her head, she turned to the ominous landscape of the Underworld until she saw the Palace of the Fates. It was the only true building in the land of the dead. It was not elaborate or stylish, but rather a building of simplicity. What use were baubles and ornaments for ones such as the Sisters of Fate? They had the gift to see the past, present, and future. Decoration was just superfluous to them.

Gaia walked into the edifice and looked upon the beautifully lit home. There were stands with fire to light up the room. The tapestry of the Fates was laid out on the wall. It’s fine stitching showed events that had only just happened by the reckoning of the Primordial Mother.

“This is ... amazing,” Gaia breathed as she marveled at the tapestry. She saw the battle of Cronos and Ouranos, followed by Gaia crowning Cronos as King, even as Chaos had once crowned Ouranos.

“We thank you,” the three Sisters said at once.

Their voices were haunting when used in unison. Gaia hesitated in her feeling of unease.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Clothos asked when the silence had blanketed the whole temple.

The question confused Gaia, given what she knew of the Sisters. Then again, compared to Gaia and the limited role of the Fates in the land of the living, Gaia’s information was limited and could be mistaken in a place or two. “Do you not know?” Gaia asked.

“We do,” Lachesis replied, motioning for Gaia to sit. “But it is always nice to ask.” Her tone was nothing but respectful to the Earth Mother.

Gaia accepted the comfortable chair that Lachesis summoned for her to sit on. The Fates were all so small in comparison to the Primordial, hovering between five and six feet, but stature meant nothing when it came to the power of the divine.

The Mother of the Titans stared at the three of them. On Olympus, before her son, Gaia has known exactly what to say and how she might say it. Faced with the audience before the three women gave Gaia pause. Regardless of the events, the daughters of Nyx had played a vital role in the removal of Ouranos from power. Gaia, who played no small part in the events, recognized that the Sisters of Fate would be a part of Greece forever. She had no intention of being removed from the lands by disrespecting them as her late husband had.

“Who is the father of little Aether?” Gaia asked cordially. “His paternity is important for the future of Olympus.”

“You wonder who the father of Aether is?” Clothos asked. Her voice tinged with a hint of maddening joy. “Such a small and simple question when we hold the totality of everything in our sights and on our threads.

Gaia had only felt like a child when in the presence of Chaos. The Progenitor was not a giant as Gaia could be, but Chaos had been so instrumental in the Primordials lives that it was clear the power that they wielded. Clothos’ statement made Gaia feel those old feelings of inferiority.

“The Prince’s father is Ouranos,” Lachesis remarked simply when Gaia said nothing. “He who was cursed for trying to command the power of Fate.”

That broke the Primordial out of her fears of smallness. Gaia was careful with how she proceeded. She was entirely unaware of any curse and if she was to be a help to Cronos, she would have to determine this meaning of the Fates’ ominous portents. “May I ask about this curse?” Gaia asked.

“For now, it is not for us to say,” said Atropos with kindness in her refusal. “The destinies of others are for them to discover. If one were to share their destiny or our prophecies with you, we might be willing to tell you more,” she added, giving hope to Gaia. “As it stands, Great Queen, you have been told what you were sent to learn. Go. Tell your King of Olympus what you have heard, but you should be warned that his actions will demonstrate whether he shall be meant to reign on Olympus.”

Gaia wanted to challenge that to say more, but the Sisters all waved Gaia away. The chair Lachesis had summoned for her vanished.

Gaia was prompted to stand when the chair disappeared; their dismissal was the last word. She would have difficulty explaining everything to Cronos yet was undecided about telling him.

Moonlight cascaded through the chamber until it cast a gentle glow upon the sleeping figure of Aether in his crib. The Olympian Prince was a vision of infantile divinity.

Rhea stood in quiet contemplation over her pride and joy. Her eyes traced the contours of her son’s face, finding solace in the resemblance to their shared father, Ouranos. She could not admit to such a similarity to Cronos. After all, that would reveal the depth of her descent into depravity.

She had loved her father. His touch had been unlike any passion that Cronos had ever brought to bear with her. He had taken Rhea and consumed her in his lovemaking when he had her. Cronos, by comparison, was simply a pale imitation.

With that in mind, Rhea’s thoughts wandered to Cronos, her husband and Ruler of the Titans and the murderer of her beloved Ouranos. When she contemplated Cronos’ actions, Rhea could not help but loathe her husband. He had no right to take her king away from her.

Unfortunately for her, that was when she realized that she could say nothing. If she complained about his killing of their father, Cronos, and the other Titan siblings might see Rhea as some sort of monster for hurting Cronos with her infidelity.

Was it infidelity though? They were not married at the time. Ouranos was king, Father Sky, the Last Primordial, Ruler of the Heavens, Lover to the Earth itself. She winced at the reminder that her great love had also fornicated with Gaia, but that could not be helped. Rhea’s jealousy over Ouranos’ love for her and Gaia had to be set aside. It was simple pragmatism. Without Ouranos making love to Gaia, Rhea would never have been born, and she would have never been able to know all the passionate tenderness that Ouranos had given her.