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, The Human Situation: The Gifford Lectures Delivered in the University of Glasgow, 1935-1937, Edward Arnold & Co., 1938.

In the land of Greece, there stood an edifice of rock and stone that kissed the heavens with the intimacy of a love reminiscent of its Primordial creators. This seemingly natural structure was made from the coupling of two offspring 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 monument, 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, in her bedchamber within the Grand Palace, Rhea screamed.

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; she clutched the edges of the bed as a hint of pain wormed its way. For all the joys of conception, she was discovering the eternal truth that birth would be an agonizing experience for most mothers.

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

As Rhea’s husband and the babe’s father, Gaia felt that he had every right to be present for the birth. That might have been maternal affection for him blinding her reason, however.

The Titan King stood apart from the event in question but never so far that he could not be aware of all that was occurring. His eyes never left Rhea even as his other features (from his muscles in his arms flexing to his teeth in his mouth clenching) seemed tense with uneasy apprehension. He stared intently, alternating between the child being brought into the world and the pain on his wife’s face. 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 of the wailing newborn. Nothing escaped his piercing attention.

From the elder divinities, there was so much was unsaid as the baby was lifted up by Mother Earth.

Gaia carefully gathered up the firstborn child in a cloth, so the baby could be warm, and handed him to Rhea, who reached out to joyfully receive him.

No matter how the child had come to be, the boy was Gaia’s grandchild through and through. That made it the simplest task in all of existence for her to love him with all of her heart. Eros himself could not have filled Gaia up with as much storgḗ (familial love) as she felt for that baby grandson of hers.

Rhea’s goggling gaze only beheld her son. If love was the metric by which any mother was graded, Rhea would have been seen as the greatest in her class.

Despite how happy she was for the new pair of mother and child, Gaia exchanged a worried look with Cronos. The Titan King looked at the child with the greatest scrutiny he could muster before his concentration broke. Realizing his mother was watching him with the same analytical eyes had him thinking: Did she see what he saw?

That momentarily exchange was lost to Rhea. She could only see her princely son. From conception to carrying him to the laborious birth, it had all been worth it to the Titan Queen.

“Aether,” Rhea muttered. “His name is Aether.”

For Rhea, in that small, fleeting moment, 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. This singular courtesy was much more than Gaia had been given when she first christened her marriage or birthed her first children.

While the other Titans excitedly looked at Aether, Cronos flashed Rhea a glance of disapproval. She could sense her husband’s agitation even if she barely acknowledged her husband’s look.

To her, the baby was far more important than any king or divinity; Chaos themselves could not mean half as much as the little Titan named Aether could mean to her. Despite all the pain and exhaustion of childbirth, Rhea found a coruscating jubilation in holding her son.

Aether was not just some prince or piece in the grand scale of Mount Olympus and its divinities. He was her baby boy that she saw as a wonderful life who brought so much more to existence than Rhea ever thought possible.

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 ire on Gaia’s face. Though he was the King of the Titans, she still saw the honest loving boy in 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 that his father had.

While the celebration of Aether’s birth continued in the birthing room, a different set of mother and son stepped away. Gaia and Cronos went to another room in the enormous palace that had once belonged to Ouranos. It was best to be away from the others, so as not to be heard.

Gaia stood tensely once she was settled into the new space. Her son’s adverse reaction to the babe was seared into her mind. This same response provided the Earth Primordial with a good idea of what would be said to her.

Cronos did not disappoint her or her mother’s intuition.

“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. While she did not fear her son, she knew that If he gave in to his rage, there would be very little that she could do to help him.

“You and Rhea made love many times around the same time of conception,” Gaia reasoned soundly. “There is a strong probability that Aether is your son, Cronos.”

“His power, his bearing... “ Cronos struggled to say in his rage.

Though he had only ever lost his temper with his father, the reminder of his father laying with the woman who was currently his wife was affecting him far more than he could voice. He motioned to the other room with his enormous hand.

“That’s the son of Ouranos!” Cronos exclaimed in a hushed voice. He did not want the others to know that the child they were celebrating was their brother, not their nephew. “He’s my father’s son, not mine! I won’t raise him, Gaia!”

The boiling, barely restrained fury was quickly approaching crazed in Gaia’s analysis. She could tell that reason would not reach her wrathful son. With the knowledge that he had killed one parent in anger, Gaia’s countenance changed.

“What will you do?” she asked, careful to not sound challenging. “Would you turn the child out of Olympus after seeing how happy he makes your wife? Or would you feel comfortable taking his life like you took your father’s?” Gaia added coldly.

Her question was a stark reminder of his recent accomplishment. This could be seen as a positive and negative experience to him; after all, Ouranos was corrupt in his ruling, so this was good, but until he had met his demise, no one had known what death was. For all, life was meant to be an adventure that went on and on everlastingly. By taking Father Sky’s life, the Time Titan achieved his vengeance, but also realized how fragile anyone’s life could be, including his own.

Because of this newfound knowledge that any divinity could find an end to their life for any reason, there was a new sensation in all of their minds that only the Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires had felt: Fear.

Cronos froze in dread at the accusation. He had done what needed doing when it came to ending his father’s life. However, after the bloodrush of battle had left him, an empathy mixed with his conscience to make a potent blend to tame his less desired trait of surrendering to his outrage.

After a moment’s pause to collect himself, he looked at the Primordial Mother of the Titans with reverence.

“What would you have me do?” Cronos wondered after exhaling. All of his self-control was called upon to ask the question with an even cadence.

As quickly as the words had been freed, the two of them understood the implication of the question. He would be rid of the child; that much was fundamentally true. What was still in debate was: 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 her intention.

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

That new sensation of dread was infecting him as he spoke. While Cronos may have swung the scythe to remove his father’s head from his body, there were others who had said words of prophecy to make it so.

“The way I understand it, your father was outdone by believing he could control them,” Gaia explained.

The exploration into Ouranos’ many visits to see the daughters of Nyx had bore some fruit for Gaia in the time between Ouranos’ and Cronos’ rule. While she had hoped to put his worry at ease, she could see the uncertainty on her son’s face.

“If I come to them respectfully,” Gaia mused carefully, “they might be willing to help me.”

Her words were entirely speculative. The Sisters of Fate were private divinities even when compared to Gaia’s Titan children, who very much enjoyed keeping to themselves.

Cronos sat in a free chair and waved his mother away.

“Very well,” he said, conceding to her suggestion.

In that moment between them, the simple truth that Cronos acknowledged how important Gaia was, both to himself and to his rule, was palpable. She could be many things as a former queen: advisor, counselor, mother, and even his friend.

Since he feared the children of Nyx, he recognized that it could be better to send her in his stead to set her own unease to rest. In this way, she was indisposable. She wanted the truth about Aether as much as he did even if her motivations were different. In the centermost part of his heart, Cronos knew that Aether was the product of his father’s lecherous rape of Cronos’ wife before she had wed him, and he would not have the spawn of his dead, degenerate father anywhere near himself.

“Go. Go to them,” Cronos said, waving her off once more. “If it can yield the truth, one way or the other, it will be worth it.”

Gaia found the Realm of brother, Tartarus, to be far less isolating than the world above. Despite helping her children more recently, she had felt a certain loneliness after her husband’s betrayal of Cronos and Rhea and then his subsequent death. When she was in the Underworld, however, Gaia did not have to even be aware of her surroundings; she felt a certain presence embracing her with acceptance. She could not distinguish what this sensation was, but there was some intangible difference to her previous visit to the realm.

Unfortunately for the Earth Primordial, she could feel a tangible loss in her power from simply being present in the domain, just as she had when she previously had come to the Underworld. That was inconsequential when she could feel herself being wrapped up in the love of her brother.

Her thoughts of Tartarus were broken up by a 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, had come into sight.

To see him so soon after his demise left Gaia conflicted. She instinctively reached out for him from a life of loving him before stopping herself when she recalled the image of Ouranos in the throes of passion with Rhea.

That thought was interrupted when she looked upon him with more critical eyes. This inspection yielded the knowledge that he had become far too pale to be her husband. His physical visage was emptier than it had been in life, lesser somehow.

She could not understand what was the source of this diminishment.

It would be best to leave him alone, she believed.

After all, what was there to say to him? He had betrayed her to lay with their daughter. He had broken the trust of a marriage gifted to them by the Progenitor with this deception. 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, looking it over 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. Its fine stitching showed events that had only recently occurred, by the recollection of the Primordial Mother.

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

“We thank you for the compliment,” 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. Surely, they knew everything. Then again, the limited interaction of the Fates in the land of the living made it entirely plausible that Gaia’s information could be mistaken in a place or two when it came to them.

“Do you not know?” Gaia asked.

While she was incredulous, she never allowed her tone to be anything less than respectful. She was not sure as to the extent of the Fates’ powers, but she did know that Chaos seemed to have understood destiny at the birth of creation, and with that knowledge in hand, Gaia regarded the three with a deference akin to that of the Progenitor.

“We do,” Lachesis replied, motioning for Gaia to sit. “But it is always nice to ask.”

This one sister’s tone was nothing but respectful to the Earth Mother. She genuinely seemed to care for Gaia’s request as well as making sure the Primordial was at ease.

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 as surely as she knew Ouranos had lived and been slain, Gaia understood that 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 had known exactly what to say and how she might say it. Facing an audience with those three women gave Gaia pause.

Regardless of how the course of events had actually gone, the daughters of Nyx had played a vital role in the removal of Ouranos from power. That was worth giving pause, especially if one had the gift of divine wisdom to guide their course. Gaia, who also played no small part in the recent downfall of the king, recognized that the Sisters of Fate would be a crucial fragment of Greece forever.

They wielded a power different, but just as powerful (if not more so), than her own. With that keenly in mind, 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.

“You wonder who the father of Aether is?” Clothos asked. Her voice tinged with a hint of maddening joy. “We hold the totality of everything in our sights and on our threads, and you, Primordial Queen, would wish to know the answer to such a trivial matter?”

Gaia had felt like a small 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 each of them understood clearly the power that Chaos wielded.

Clothos’ statement reignited those old feelings of inferiority within Gaia’s core.

“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. The word cursed had not been used in such a manner. This was cause to think. Gaia was careful with how she proceeded. She was entirely unaware of any curse, but if she was to be of any 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 here to learn. Go. Tell your King of Olympus what you have heard, but you should be warned that his actions will demonstrate whether or not he is meant to reign on Olympus.”

Gaia wanted to challenge their words, but the Sisters waved Gaia away in near unison. The chair Lachesis had summoned for her vanished after that.

Gaia was prompted to stand when the chair disappeared; their dismissal was the last word. She would have difficulty explaining everything to Cronos; however, regardless of these turn of events, or perhaps because of them, she was undecided about telling him what the Fates had said.

Moonlight poured through the chamber until it cast a gentle glow upon the sleeping figure of little 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. Though he had been taken from the land of the living, he had still given her a gift beyond compare in his death.

It was a sorrowful reality that she could not admit such a similarity outwardly because of Cronos. After all, that would reveal the depth of her descent into depravity.

Her most deeply concealed and secluded secret in her heart was that she had truly loved her father in the most intimate way one person could love another. His touch had been unlike any passion that Cronos had ever brought to bear with her.

Ouranos had taken Rhea, and consumed her in his lovemaking when he had her. The effect was twofold since, in his absence, she could feel the emptiness where his touch should be on her. She was an extension of his will, existing only to please him, and even in this selfishness, there was no greed on behalf of the Primordial King. After all, for all he had taken from her, he returned her aching hunger back to her twice over. This fed all her burning lust until all she could do was surrender to him, and that alone made her body shiver in remembrance.

Cronos, by comparison to their father, was simply a pale imitation. He wanted her, desired her even, but when it came to bringing that carnal heat to bed with Rhea, he was not up to the task.

With that juxtaposition in mind, Rhea’s thoughts wandered to Cronos. He was her husband and Ruler of the Titans, and murderer of her beloved Ouranos.

On one hand, if their union was anything like that of Ouranos and Gaia’s marriage, they would appear to be the perfect couple and would rule over all of the other deities. However, if Rhea understood anything from the discontent of her father, it was that, despite how perfect Ouranos and Gaia seemed, there were imperfections to their relationship.

This led to her thoughts on her own husband, and how when she contemplated Cronos’ actions, Rhea could not help but loathe her husband. He had no right to take her king away from her. Ouranos had been the ruler of the heavens and everything below as ordained by Chaos.

Chaos was the creator, the maker of all things. If Chaos had chosen Ouranos, who was a Titan who could slow time for such a short while to remove that king from life?

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 deviant for hurting Cronos with her infidelity.

Was it infidelity though?

She and Cronos were not married at the time. Cronos desired her and chased her with loving eyes, and while she had humored his interest, and even planned to one day marry him, they had not been bound in any formal romantic relationship.

Ouranos had been king at the time; he was Father Sky, the Last Primordial, Ruler of the Heavens, Lover to the Earth itself.