Chapter 3: The Madness of Cronos

“Cronus’ son has trapped me in madness, blinding ruin -”

— Agamemnon, The Iliad by Homer (~8th Century BCE), translated by Robert Fagles, Penguin Classics, 1990.

In the days that passed after Cronos’ act of cannibalism, an unease washed over Mount Olympus like a blanket of rain.

The Titan brothers and sisters were horrified by their brotherly king’s actions. While no one, not even Cronos, could be sure what consuming another divinity would result in, they knew it could not be good. To kill another deity required powerful weapons or so much might and force that their life was snuffed out.

Well, that is what they thought. None of the other Titans had taken a hand at killing like Cronos had. On average, the other Titans were proliferating the lands. Those children of Gaia and Ouranos made wondrous creations like the sun and draped Nyx’s night sky with light called stars.

Whether because of creating, making families, or simply disgusted by Cronos’ behavior, none of his siblings would dare confront their Titan King over this outrageous behavior.

Because of her children’s despondency, it was Gaia who tried to connect to her wayward son by coming to see him. After all, if nothing else, there was a primal truth that she was leaning on. She was his mother; giving birth and raising someone since their first days of life needed to be worth enough to make them listen.

Though, in the end, when she came to Olympus, she did not come to discuss the loss of Aether or Cronos’ unjustified actions to his half-brother. Her thoughts were not with Ouranos and Rhea because she was entrenched by family. That is ultimately what the divinities were on Olympus. They were all related and (therefore) connected to one another.

The Titans were the sons and daughters of Gaia and Ouranos, but they were free to do whatever they desired. While Ouranos had been slain, his injustices still prevailed. There were children from Gaia, who had been punished unfairly.

The inequity created a weight of concern that was visible on the Earth Primordial’s features. This led her to physically being in front of her son. Gaia had crowned her youngest son after his rise to power. It was her who had officiated over the wedding of her son and daughter even though it hurt her to even look at Rhea.

While Gaia was certain that Rhea was not responsible for Ouranos’ infidelity, there was pain from the core of Gaia’s soul that was irritated by being in close proximity after catching Ouranos with Rhea. To add insult to injury, Gaia had been there to help Rhea give birth to that first child in Aether. The babe was an innocent being; of that, Gaia was aware, but that did not stop the irrational pain sourced from his existence.

One child eaten, six imprisoned. Something, somewhere needed to be put a stop to. To stop the crime against her children had to be possible because the source of that pain had come from the one being that Gaia, Cronos, the Cyclopes, and Hecatoncheires all hated: Ouranos.

When she gazed into the brooding eyes of her selfish son, the possibility of changing that situation appeared futile. However, she believed that she might succeed as his mother. After all, if she could allow him one act of cruelty from him, perhaps he would perform one act of generosity in kind.

“Cronos,” Gaia began with cautious solicitation. She lowered her head in respect of the office he held.

She eyed her son carefully. A certain clarity was missing from her once-sweet child. That made predicting his actions difficult.

“Now that you have spoken to the Fates,” she went on, “I implore you to reconsider the future of the Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires. After all, they are your elder siblings. You know and I both know that their imprisonment in Tartarus has gone on far too long, and it was another injustice of your father.”

She was careful not to mention Ouranos by name because she feared that hearing mention of the Sky Primordial might set Cronos off. His hatred of Ouranos ran deep as it did for Gaia. In some ways, it was greater still; after all, Gaia had known Ouranos all his life, but Cronos had known Ouranos for all of the Titan King’s life.

Despite being Cronos’ mother, she knew that the Throne of Olympus was sacrosanct. As Chaos had crowned Ouranos himself and Gaia crowned Cronos, there was some unspoken understanding that whoever sat upon the seat of power on Olympus was placed above all others. Much like Ouranos, this was not to be undone except in the gravest of circumstances.

Gaia herself had given her son the power to reign over the Realm when she placed that new crown upon his head. That was Gaia’s choice (perhaps even a mistake); nevertheless, this entitled Cronos to decide the future of all in Greece, including the futures of Gaia and the imprisoned children.

He stood as an enormous edifice of himself, beaming with pride before her. Gaia could see how immovable her son was becoming in his role as king. Though, she found herself wondering if this came from killing Ouranos, consuming Aether, or if the throne and crown had endowed him with this newfound confidence.

His brow furrowed at his mother’s request. This might have been a reflection of the weight of his responsibility as the Ruler of the Titans or simply a symptom of his more unhinged nature. When he faced Gaia, she could see that he no longer recognized her as his mother but as his subject.

“Gaia,” he replied with resolve. “After seeing the Fates and ending Aether’s corrupted existence, I have no intentions of freeing the Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires.”

To hear his verdict brought rise to Gaia’s innate sense of fairness. She began to protest when Cronos held up a hand to silence her.

“As you know, my imprisoned siblings possess too much power,” he went on, “and could be a great risk to myself and the stability of Olympus.”

Gaia stared at Cronos with hurt indignation upon hearing the words. To see him lose so much of his empathy as a result of gaining his throne was not something she had intended for her son. However, she could not let that cloud her judgment or deter her from her quest.

She softened her expression, knowing that she could not lose this chance. If she allowed anger over this injustice to rule her, Cronos would ignore her, just as Ouranos had. Setting aside her maternal concern, she persevered.

“They are family, Cronos, she said softly. “Yours as well as mine! They helped you even before you knew that you would need it by giving you your scythe. Could you have bested your father without their tools? They deserve a chance at freedom.”

Cronos sighed heavily at his mother. Perhaps he was teetering on the decision. Maybe Gaia’s words could make the difference.

He nodded his head, recalling the day of his rebellion against Ouranos. Memories of fear and uncertainty coated his thoughts. He recalled the push and pull of battle. Feelings that made him question his own anger at his father. However, for all of those memories of that day, none of it mattered because he had won and was made king.

“You’re right,” he admitted slowly. “The Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires did play a vital role in helping me depose Father. I recall that kindness,” Cronos acknowledged. Though he agreed with his mother, his voice was tinged with aggression. “But what if someday a child of mine wants to fight me as I fought Ouranos? Couldn’t my ‘siblings’ decide that I waited too long to free them, or that they want the throne for themselves?”

Cronos stopped talking and shook his head. While he was denying Gaia, the Earth Primordial could see that Cronos was struggling to say the words he let out.

“No. Their powers are too great,” Cronos repeated as he continued to shake his head. “I won’t risk them being free.”

Even before he declared his decision, Gaia could see the negative coming. Nonetheless, she reached out to her son, gently placing a hand on Cronos’ arm.

“Son? Please?” she implored. Her eyes could not hide the desperation of her heart from her son.

If nothing else, she was his mother. She had loved her son since his birth. When Ouranos had his gaze on other projects, it was Gaia who had showered her children with love. She had not played favorites. For that time, she had made sure that Cronos was as cared for as all of her children. Surely, he could return that familial affection when it mattered most.

Cronos’ gaze softened at her love, returning a kindness in turn by placing his hand atop of hers. For the smallest moment, Gaia believed her son would do the right thing. His resolve momentarily seemed to waver as he looked upon Gaia’s earnest face.

“Gaia,” Cronos spoke with soft sympathy yet heavy conviction. “I will not do it.”

With a heavy heart, Gaia locked eyes with her son. She searched for any crack or crevice she could latch onto. What she found was the firm coldness of an unbunging wall. It was all too clear that the judgment was final, and all she could do was nod to accept Cronos’ decision.

She did not weep, she did not wail, she did not cry, and she did not fight him. Gaia had once been Queen of Olympus by order of her Creator. She was a true daughter of Chaos, one of five beings to wholly be made by the Progenitor. There was a dignity in that distinction in comparison to her Titan children.

As such, when she fully accepted his words, she turned away from the Titan King of Olympus. Reality set in. The Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires would continue to deteriorate, which would continue to destroy Gaia’s soul. As their mother, their pain was her pain.

For the moment, there was nothing to be done. To give up was not within Gaia. She would wait. A day would come when her children would be allowed to exist in a reality where Gaia’s Earth was beneath their feet and Ouranos’ sky was above their heads.

From the news of Cronos devouring Aether to Rhea’s wailing or even Cronos’ disrespectful denial of Gaia’s reasonable request, the lands of Greece rumbled from the information. The Titanesses felt a kinship with Rhea while the Titan brothers could not believe Cronos would devour a child. Unfortunately for Cronos, the information of Aether’s parentage was not widespread information. Only his mistakes were being broadcast.

It was deep within the confines of a secluded cave on the coastal edges of Greece that Hyperion met with his Titan brethren.

Hyperion stood tall and imposing. As the radiant Titan of Light, his golden hair cascaded down his broad shoulders like strands of living light to display his majesty. Though he was smooth along his jaw, it only added to his attractiveness. If ever another divinity, from another realm, were to visit the lands of Greece, they would be forgiven for mistaking Hyperion for the King of Olympus. He simply shone with amazing, celestial beauty as if it were his right just by existing.

Oceanus was thoughtful and serene when compared to his bright sibling as the Titan of the Ocean. His skin had a tinge of blue about it with a pulsing fluidity to his flesh, but he was as tall and as strong as his brothers. On his face was a long flowing beard matching the one sported by his fallen father. With a preternatural grace, he sat on a large, jagged rock as if it were a throne.

Crius bore scars on his hands and forearms from a battle that few would truly know or understand. What he and his brothers had considered to be a simple scuffle was quickly being discussed as matters meant for legend. His broken hands were evidence of the cruelty of Ouranos. However pained or marked he was by his father’s attack, he was still a pinnacle of strength and power with honed muscles that were more pristine than even those of his brother, Cronos. Starlight and battle coursed through his very veins. He wore sky blue shorts held up by a bronze belt, and he had a fierce face framed by short black hair.

Coeus, the Titan of Intellect, possessed an air of calm wisdom. He wore a short length of fabric on his shoulders, acting as both a cape and covering for his chest while leaving his abdomen exposed to the world. He wore a white and silver toga around his waist to cover his groin and the upper parts of his legs. His keen mind was always searching for solutions, even ones his brother did not admit or recognize.

Each brother sat or stood in the cave, quiet at first.

Hyperion, having called the meeting, spoke up with concern. The look of uncertain concern was painted on his face even before a single word came from his mouth.

“Brothers, I know my calling you together like this, in secrecy, might have bothered you all,” he started. He looked from brother to brother with an understanding manner.

He was the Bright Titan for a reason. After the defeat of their father, it was Hyperion who decided to start exploring other lands. To know the tales of other deities, other lands, other people, and their lives helped inform him of how best to help better Olympus.

Brightness does not only mean fire but intelligence as well for him, and so Hyperion felt he must expand all of his horizons.

“Don’t you want to wait for Iapetus?” Oceanus asked.

He motioned to an empty space that their last brother might fill. While none of the brothers were particularly close to Iapetus, he was still one of their number and deserved to be part of the conversation.

“He wanders off wherever he wants to contemplate matters that are not problems,” Crius gruffly spat out.

Coeus raised an eyebrow to that summation of their kin but said nothing.

“If I might continue?” Hyperion asked.

He was not upset; far from it, in fact. However, there were great matters to discuss, and the absence of one brother did not make or break this discussion.

Crius nodded for him to speak, Ocean shrugged, and Coeus made a motion with his hand for him to go on.

“I fear Cronos is descending into madness,” Hyperion went on. “His actions have grown increasingly erratic.” He raised his hands to make sure his brothers understood that he was not adversarial to Cronos without cause. “I know Father needed to be defeated. You know I will never question our actions on that score, but devouring a child, no matter who the father was, is deranged.”

He shook his head at the very thought of eating a child. To make a child with his wife was one of the greatest pleasures in Hyperion’s life. Never in his existence would he think to hurt Theia by consuming a child that she carried in her womb. Thoughts of his wife reminded him of another crime of his brother-king.

“I believe he has Rhea imprisoned on Olympus as well,” Hyperion finished.

Oceanus nodded solemnly in agreement. He had been there, like all the others, to battle Ouranos. Father Sky had been an impossible foe, and until recently, Oceanus had not regretted standing shoulder to shoulder with his brothers.

“I agree. I think the darkness that had a hold on Ouranos is clouding Cronos’ once noble heart. I know for a fact that he has turned away Gaia when she wanted an audience with him. I fear the only thing that he might listen to is violence,” Oceanus said, frustrated.

He did not stand or punch a wall. He seemed deflated by all that he wanted to say and do. In the end, he just exhaled.

“One thing I do know is that we can’t go from king to king this way.”

Despite being a recluse, Oceanus was revealing his authentic concern for his brother. After all, he had been raised by Gaia with his brothers. There was a time when all they had was each other. He would not be so quick to throw that way regardless of the charges brought against Cronos.

“Do you fear that by voicing our disapproval of his actions that Cronos will meet us with violence?” Coeus asked empirically.

He was not like his brothers who gave into the shiny baubles of creation or their inferior emotions. His logical mind was one that made logical connections, and therefore, it was entirely capable of cutting straight to the core of the concerns of his brethren.

At his query, none of the brothers had an answer. When the intelligent one was asking a question, the others understood that meant there was no simple response. The silence that set in was more uncomfortable than any remark might have been.

Crius stood in defiance of their complaints. For him, life was not ruled by logic and reason. Experience, in a life lived, ruled his judgment. He was loyal to those who were loyal to him, and he was vengeful to those who wronged him. While not as analytical as his brother, there was passion in his arguments. Those words, for him, were based in simpler, more grounded life and not the more well-thought out thinking of Coeus.