Chapter 4: Resonance of Thunder

“Thunder is good, thunder is impressive; but it is lightning that does the work.”

-- Mark Twain, Mark Twain’s Speeches (1910). Copyright © Public Domain. Originally published by Harper & Brothers Publishers.

Zeus readied himself to go to Olympus.

His mind was like a veiny web of lightning. While insight from a lived life was not yet his gift, he was still smart enough to know that he would soon have to battle his father.

Cronos was the Titan King, slayer of Ouranos, Ruler of Mount Olympus, and some believed him to be the most powerful Titan. Common sense told the youngest son of Cronos and Rhea that a head on confrontation would only lead to his defeat.

With that impending loss in mind, he thought about how best to confront his father. He could try enchanting his father with some potion, but he was not one for spellwork or witchcraft. His magic lay in combat, specifically in converting his power into lightning and commanding the clouds of the heavens. There was always the option of following his father when he was alone, but that would take time, and Zeus was not sure how much time he had, and given his father’s ability to manipulate time, would Zeus’ prolonged presence around Cronos make it easier for him to be found?

All of these questions and more swirled in his mind like a storming tempest that threatened to consume him until there was nothing left but the barest nerves of a being who was paralyzed by fear.

While Gaia would be more than capable of giving Zeus advice if asked, he could never go to her with this part of his struggle. She could not fight this battle for him, nor should she. There may be a day when she would be forced to stand in front of her children, and she would have to deny helping Zeus. If they did not know he was raised by her, she would only be asked if she assisted in the assault of Olympus.

No. She deserved to be able to honestly deny that charge.

Further, Zeus understood that if he failed with Gaia visibly helping him, the other Titans would turn on her. As such, the Lightning Lord would need to do this himself. Success or failure would come on his own merits.

Gaia, as the Primordial Queen who was older than her Titan children and most divinities, should only intervene if there was a moment where Zeus would be close to victory.

He had no discernable plan, but he knew he had to act sooner than later.

He started teleporting to look at Olympus in the distance.

In the absence of action, observation was the safest course ahead.

Titans came and went. Only Rhea and Cronos seemed to permanently reside on the grand mountain. All the others seemed to stay away. Was that perhaps because Cronos had lost himself to his madness?

If Zeus ever became king, he knew he would not lose himself to madness. There would be those that could counsel him. Giving into the most base of urges was no way for a ruler to be.

Zeus also believed that he would never lose his throne. No matter the cost, he would cultivate a kingdom where the others served him. They would not all serve him to empower him or even please him like Gaia, but they would know that all power, divine or otherwise, stemmed from him.

She had been right in that they would earn his protection, but more than that, he would earn their servitude. There had to be a balance between the necessity to hold power and the compassion to not lose one’s mind.

As he watched, Zeus began to see the patterns of Cronos’ habits in his day to day life. That was where Zeus’ options would come in.

The private rooms of Rhea, within the grand halls of Olympus, was where two Queens talked, knowing that Cronos was away. They did not know where he was or why, but this was a reprieve to speak, and they would make good use of this window of opportunity.

“How much longer will we wait?”

“These things take time,” Gaia said slowly.

Rhea bristled at the comment. She had been the most patient in this arrangement. She had shared a bed with Cronos many times throughout their marriage. Who had watched him devour each of her children, starting with Aether? Was it not she who had suffered more than any on and below Olympus?

She inhaled and exhaled within a moment of her mother saying the words. Rather than losing her temper, she tried to focus on the productive ends of their shared mission. After all, if she shouted at her mother, Rhea would lose her most valuable ally.

“Very well,” Rhea remarked, crossing a leg over another. “How does his training progress?”

“I think if he were to battle Cronos, I believe this new power would win, but his path ahead is going to be far more complicated than we realize.”

Rhea shook her head with a knowing smile. She had no doubt that her son would prove worthy of the task of taking on Cronos. No matter how powerful her husband had been, it had required all of his brothers helping him to best their father, Ouranos, so she very much doubted that he was some master warrior all on his own.

“You know what I meant, Gaia. How has been his preparation as king?”

When Gaia did not immediately answer, Rhea observed some unique discoloration on Gaia’s body. She motioned at the bruising.

“It looks like you have been having fun,” she went on, knowing that training most likely did not require her son to bruise her mother.

Gaia blushed at her daughter’s directness. She seemed to hesitate, which warned Rhea that she would not answer the inquiry.

“I have been. He is relentless,” she said somewhat playfully. “If he does not stop, you might have some siblings.”

That caught Rhea aback. In many way, for that small moment, Gaia came across like an adolescent girl rather than the Primordial Queen who had come before the Titan and Titanesses.

Further, both Gaia and Rhea understood since all of the Titans were related, they would prioritize the older deity’s relationship to the child over the younger. Otherwise, they would be calling Zeus’ offspring both Rhea’s grandchildren as well as her siblings.

Rather than upset her, Rhea smiled at the remark.

Worse than that, her womanhood stirred at the idea. A twinge of jealousy almost overtook her, but the power of her son also had her curious as to what kind of lover he might prove to be. To Rhea, there was something arousing about her son taking her mother to bed as well as the prospect of him taking her.

He was the true prince of Olympus, and his ability to have what he wanted showed his strong virility. That was how it should be. After all, as the next King of Olympus, he had every right.

The truth of that would come when he struck Cronos down.

Fuck ... Even thinking about it, Rhea wanted to slide her hands between her legs at the thought of letting Zeus take her.

There was a stirring in her she refused to name at first. The boy she had once wept for had grown into a force beyond his station and sex. No woman (whether mother or goddess) could fully ignore. And that, Rhea thought with a momentarily dread, was precisely the problem.

She knew she would not be having any more of Cronos’ children because she refused to lay with him anymore, and Hera would bear Zeus’ more legitimate children, but Rhea would have Zeus between her legs.

She would enjoy all of these relentless lusts that Gaia claimed Zeus possessed. Surely he would use it on many maidens, wives, and dames.

“What should we do if that happens?” Gaia asked.

“Zeus will most likely have a place for the children here,” Rhea thought.

There was a pause. Rhea could see her mother was thinking, and when the Primordial Queen had a thought, there would be consequences for the entirety of Olympus.

“I do not think he should,” Gaia said coldly.

Rhea looked confused. She was about to voice her concern, but her mother continued.

“We might need to plan if we need to supplant any king if they become corrupt. We have to plan ahead. I think that is what was the mistake with both Cronos and Ouranos.”

“I can agree to that,” Rhea said slowly.

Her mother had made a mistake when she had allowed Cronos to take the scythe in hand. There was no guarantee that Rhea would not be making a similar mistake by assisting Zeus through Gaia.

“Then, moving ahead, we might need some divine children that can safeguard against any king.”

“Where would we hide them? The new power knows of your island, and let’s face it, we can’t hide them with Chaos or Tartarus.”

Gaia considered the question. “I will ensure no one’s seed plants until we find a place for any potential offspring.”

“You realize for this to work; we would both need to lay with this power.”

Gaia chuckled. “I suspect you would enjoy that part of things.”

Cronos lay on his throne, resting in the middle of the day.

Where others might have a multitude of thoughts running through their mind, his head had none. As his eyes grew heavy, he found ruling his kingdom boring.

All of Greece seemed to be in order. There was nothing for him to do but lounge.

Rhea was no longer interested in his advances. In a way, Cronos was glad for it. If they had no more children, then Cronos could beat the Fates’ prophecy. By not having any more sons, he had bested the Moirai and their foolish prophecy.

With Hyperion’s stories, and knowing he could not be defeated, Cronos wondered about expanding the borders of Olympus. With their might, the Titans could conquer more and more until they ruled over all divinities in every dominion.

Quickly, he retracted that thought. It was not pragmatic to try and expand as circumstances existed on Olympus. Crius would need to heal his hands if Cronos wanted his plan to advance as he wanted.

Regardless of practicality, the thought was a nice, comforting idea to the Titan King. As he closed his eyes, Cronos imagined more realms under the command of Olympus. So many gods under his heel.

Iapetus sat down with two of his four sons: Atlas and Menoetius. They were on one of the many mountains in Cronos’ lands of Greece.

While Prometheus and Epimetheus were busy working on creating more beasts to fill the land, Atlas and Menoetius seemed aimless.

“Children,” Iapetus began. “I want to discuss with you our purposes in this realm. I know sometimes it feels like you are without purpose unlike your brothers who seem to flourish no matter where they are.”

Iapetus was a forty-foot-tall giant of a deity. He could make himself closer to eight feet tall, which was about the average height of his four sons. For this discussion, he knew it was best to be in his more impressive form.

His sons were smaller. Atlas was the largest at ten feet. While they could use their divine powers to make themselves grow, the children often felt less than their father because of his natural immensity.

“But we aren’t like them, Father,” Menoetius remarked, slightly offended.

He was the son whose temper could always get him into trouble. When Iapetus’ sons were infants, he was the child that picked a fight with the others. He could defeat Atlas by himself and the twins by himself, but if all three teamed up against Menoetius, he lost. He often cried when that happened, but he redoubled his efforts the next time to no avail. He was a being that would bang his head against a tree until the tree fell.

“You are not meant to be. They create and preserve,” Iapetus pointed out. “But Atlas is strong and can protect others. You, Menoetius, can be aggressive and destructive. Those qualities can be admirable in a way. Much like how my brothers and I used violence to ward off the danger of my father, you might prevent those that might try to harm this family.”

“But who will we ward off?” Atlas wondered.

“There are other lands, Atlas,” Iapetus countered. “Furthermore, we cannot pretend that Cronos’ rule will last forever.”

He paused to bend down and pick up a boulder. He smoothed the stone before throwing it up and catching it on its way down. The action was meant to keep his sons’ attention while he went on.