Chapter 7: The Arms of Zeus

“[Cratus] was born the god of power and strength. Son of the Titan Pallus, the Titan of Battle, and the goddess Styx, Primordial goddess of the River Styx ... Kratus was neither alone nor shunned on Olympus ... because he and his family were the first Gods to join Zeus after the Titan War, Zeus actually granted them the highest position in his regime.”The Mythology Guy, 2023

They could not teleport like the other gods. Unlike Zeus and his allies, Cratus and his siblings had been kept as a vanguard to protect Olympus. This left Cratus and his siblings unable to use certain skills acquired during the War.

However, that did not stop them from being powerful, immortal, and able to use magic. Those were the qualities that signified a connection to the great Progenitor. That was enough for them to be divine. With time and under the tutelage of Zeus, they might learn more.

Without that power though, the siblings were forced to run to their destination. They dashed through the rugged terrain, blazing past forest and desert alike, towards the looming silhouette of a mountain that was Mount Iapetus.

Cratus led the squadron. With each stride, he could sense a growing dissention emanating from his siblings. When he turned, Bia and Nike had conflicted looks on their faces.

“We did what we needed to,” he declared, keeping his gaze focused on the mountain ahead. “The twins were withholding information from us, and by extension, our king. That makes them a threat to Olympus.”

Bia shook her head, uncertain of their actions. “Was it, brother? We hurt them both. We used tactics befitting Cronos or Hyperion.”

“In the service of our king!” Cratus exclaimed quickly enough. “If we didn’t act, we would still be on Olympus, doing nothing!”

Bia’s expression did not improve. “We don’t know that! There could have been another way. Instead, we hurt someone who helped Zeus win the War!”

“He knew where Atlas is,” Cratus countered.

“That remains to be seen,” Nike pointed out. When Cratus shot her a look, she recoiled defensively. “What? It’s true! He told us where a mountain and their father’s dead body is, not that Atlas was actually here.”

“Fuck you, Nike,” Cratus exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice.

“Bia could be right. We might have hurt them for nothing is all I am saying!” Nike shouted back, indignant.

“We are strength itself, sister,” Cratus said back, more calmly “If we don’t use that to help our king, are we any better than those who are peaceful but plotting against him?”

Bia returned to the conversation, “At what cost though, brother? If we become as bad as Cronos in service of Zeus, aren’t we bringing about our own downfall?”

Zelus was the youngest of the siblings, so he was quiet until that moment. “Nike might be right,” he said carefully. “But aren’t we trying to be the protectors of Zeus? He can be better than Cronos, but if we are to be his personal guard, we cannot shy away from doing our job. He can ponder and be sure of morality. We must act. We are messy so that Olympus can be shiny.”

Cratus nodded. Nike and Bia were still conflicted. He knew that much, but he just needed them nudged towards his side. He would serve Zeus. There was no overcoming Zeus, but by being directly under the King of Olympus, there would be nothing that they could not do. They would not fear any other gods or Titans.

Everything could be theirs for the taking if only his siblings had the courage to be by his side. Would they get their hands dirty? Yes. Would they also get treasures greater than any other god with the exception of the Three Kings and their future wives? Cratus would wager his immortality on it.

Metis knew that she occupied many roles in Zeus’ new reign. She was an Oceanid, child of Oceanus and Tethys. She filled the role of counselor to the Three Kings as the Titaness of Wisdom. If she were lucky, she would be Zeus’ future wife.

While she wanted that honor (and she did want that honor), she also envisioned what that might look like with Zeus’ more recent, erratic behavior. As she embarked on her journey to the island of the Cyclopes, she knew that she would need to take certain matters in hand, or else, Zeus would become a tyrant in no time.

By her estimation, Zeus was passionate, single minded, possessive, and commanding. In all of those qualities, Metis could see the making of a ruler that could rule the heavens and the earth for centuries. Zeus had the making of a king that could outlast his predecessors as well as outstrip them in the minds of the other deities. He had so much potential to rise higher and reach farther than any ruler Greece had ever known if he had the wherewithal not to squander his gift by being reckless.

All of those thoughts and more coursed through Metis’ mind. She had to constantly be thinking, so that she could adapt to whatever occurred within the realm. After all, she could not prepare for every possibility if she did not consider every possibility.

Upon reaching the island, she observed mountains burgeoning up, acting as a wall, which encompassed the entirety of the island all the way around. The brown peaks appeared wrong when juxtaposed against the azure expanse of the sea. Having been surrounded by water since an early age, Metis knew when something was meant to be near the water and when it was not. As such, she suspected the mountainous cliffs were the Cyclopes; doing. Drawing closer, Metis held her Aegis shield close. She was not sure if the shield could be used to harm its maker, but if the Cyclopes were building mountains to protect themselves, Metis assumed that the children of Gaia and Ouranos were preparing for conflict of one kind or another.

Jumping from the sandy shore, she basked in the warmth of the sun for a moment before landing on the tallest point of the nearest peak. Her eyes scanned the quiet lands within. She did not readily see the enormous beings, which was not a good sign to her.

But then, after a moment, and to her surprise, she found the three Cyclopes laying about lazily amidst the enclosure. Their massive forms were sprawled upon makeshift lounges fashioned from rock and stone. In the center of them was a forge being used for heat, but not the construction of any defenses or weaponry.

Her mind ran through countless possibilities. Rather than attending to their craft, had the three beings just surrendered to the idea of laziness?

Metis approached the area slowly. She did not hold her shield so tightly anymore. Something about their demeanor told her that these beings were not ready for combat in any capacity while Metis had battled Titans for nearly a decade. She had aided in besting Cronos. On the battlefield, she had even dealt a lasting wound onto Pallus, one of Crius’ children.

“Children of Gaia and Ouranos!” Metis cried out. “I am Metis, servant to Zeus, and I have come for your aid! And I offer you counsel in exchange!”

The Cyclopes stirred from their rest. At first, none of them seemed interested in the Titaness, but Brontes turned when he realized that Metis would not leave and Steropes and Arges had no intention of getting up. His single eye fixed upon Metis with curious bemusement.

“What brings you here, Titaness?” he rumbled like distant thunder.

Metis bowed her head respectfully before quickly making eye contact with the Cyclops. While eye contact was not a guarantee of honesty, Metis hoped it instilled a sense of respect being exchanged between them both.

“I come on behalf of Zeus, King on Mount Olympus,” she replied, raising her voice but never shouting.

Brontes looked annoyed at the title and even the name. “We helped your king and his family win the war. All we asked is to be left in peace after you succeeded.”

Metis thought of that request. It was a true one, but she was thinking steps ahead at that moment. She knew that Zeus would likely misconstrue Brontes’ desire to be left alone as a sign that he was not loyal to Olympus. The Cyclopes were peerless in their craft.

Olympus could not afford for them (and by extension, their skills) to be locked up. She needed to ensure their safety while making sure they perform their role adequately for Zeus. Metis saw the singular path forward that might just lead to success without needing to peer into the future.

“Zeus is in need of your skills once more,” she said honestly. “I ask in the name of friendship that you provide this assistance.”

“For what will you give us for any assistance we muster?” Brontes asked.

“I will give you a way to never be bothered by any on Olympus again,” Metis replied

The Cyclops struggled with what she said. Such an offer would be impossible. Zeus, or any king, would need their ability to make eternal arms. However, Brontes knew Metis to be a being of integrity.

“Speak, Titaness,” Brontes intoned. The resonance in his voice warned her that she must be cautious. “What does your King of the gods require?”

Metis took a deep breath. She was not sure how she could inform them.

“Zeus seeks to bind up the Hecatoncheires. He sees their neutrality during the war as a sign that they might betray him.”

Brontes stared at her enraged. “Oathbreaker! He swore to leave them be.”

Metis sighed. “As I am all too aware, Cyclops. I was there when the oath was made. The Hecatoncheires deserve freedom, but so do you. Do you not think if Zeus cannot bind the Hecatoncheires, he might turn his gaze onto you and your Cyclopes brethren?”

Brontes listened, seeing Metis in a new light. “And you mean to protect us? How?”

“Make this adamant chain for Zeus, but while I bring the gift to Zeus, pledge yourself to Hades.”

“His brother?” the Cyclops asked. “Why? What for?”

“Zeus would not dare challenge his own brother to single combat,” Metis explained. “It would disrupt the balance of all the Realms.”

She did not reveal the fact that Zeus was afraid of Hades. Giving the Cyclopes too much information would be foolish as they could use it to genuinely turn on her king.

“What will Hades want in return?” Brontes asked suspiciously.

“Likely nothing,” Metis replied honestly. “Tell him that this will be a slight against Zeus, and I think he will ask for nothing.”

“He seeks to harm his brother?” Brontes asked.

Metis shook her head and laughed. “No. He would only seek to cause offense. The brothers cannot war against one another. The damage would be too great, but barbs are effective to say who has more power in the realms.”

Brontes rolled his head back and unleashed a long and hearty laugh. “Return to your mountain, Titaness. We will make your king his chain.”

Metis bowed, bent at the waist. “Thank you, son of Gaia and Ouranos,” she said, her voice bathed in a healthy coat of respect.

Brontes waved her away. A tower of light encompassed Metis, and the advisor disappeared in a flash. The Cyclopes, for his part, believed her. While he did not want to trap his Hecatoncheires brothers, he knew that he would not allow himself to be made into a prisoner again. If it meant he and his Cyclopes brothers were free, he would follow her wisdom.

He shook his brothers awake and went to the forge. It had long been out of use, but he would find that the heat worked just as well as it had in the past.

What did Hades ever do to deserve his punishment of the Underworld. It was not the Realm itself. Even his dream of a House more worthy than any palace on Olympus was coming with strife.

Within his halls of the Underworld, Hades was starting to admit Nyx was right about the resources. There was not enough of anything in the Underworld. He needed tools, weapons, supplies, and material. The more he thought on the subject, the more he realized that the only resource that he had an abundance of was labor through the Titans.

Since they were dead, they never tired, so they could work tirelessly for eternity. That could prove useful.

Hades considered his predicament while scratching at the stubble on his jawline. His eating of the pomegranate had returned him to a state similar to when he lived in Cronos’ belly. The stark difference was that in his current state, Hades felt empowered, not helpless as he had in his father’s stomach. Those days had been a nightmare, and he refused to let his rule be marred by such horrendous memories.

He looked out to find the Primordial of Night focused on the young Hecate. Hades did not mind Nyx finding enjoyment where she could, but the construction of his home was paramount.

Unlike his brothers, he did not fear someone coming for his seat of power. No one wanted the Underworld. Already, Hades saw the wisdom of the Primordials known as Erebus and Tartarus.

With enough time, Hades could build power in the dead, with his spirits. If he could protect those same specters from dying in the land of the living, and thus returning to Chaos (which would make them no longer of us to him), they would live on while retaining the ability to harm others. It could prove useful if Hades ever needed to make war with either of his brothers.

But that led him back to his thoughts on the running of the Underworld. Without having a proper foothold, Hades could do nothing.

“Nyx,” Hades remarked. The Primordial lifted a hand to illustrate that she was listening. As a Primordial, he very much doubted that he could make her do anything regardless of how powerful he had become. “I have been thinking. Both your sons have gifts, but unless we create a structure, I do not see how I can best utilize them.”

“Then create the structure, my King,” Nyx said offhandedly. “My children see you like an uncle, Hades, especially after your actions in saving me and defeating Ouranos.”

“And the construction of the House?” Hades inquired.

Nyx’s lips curved into a knowing smile despite the Chthonic King not having the benefit of seeing it. “Patience is a necessity in this endeavor, Hades, especially for one such as yourself. It is a quality both your father and grandfather lacked.”

This halted the eldest son of Cronos. Zeus was most like Cronos and Ouranos in the sense that he was the King of Olympus. Nyx’s words gave Hades something to consider. He could not lose his temper at the first sign of trouble. That was what Zeus would do. Though, he could not just go with the flow. Such laziness was for Poseidon, no Hades.

Even if he assigned duties to Nyx’s children, Hypnos and Thanatos, there would be more to do.

Nyx’s primary focus remained steadfastly on Hecate. Maternal instincts seemed to override any interest in the affairs of the Underworld. He could not fault her. She had run the Underworld before him. He was seeking to change everything. Nyx was entitled to the freedom to do as she pleased. If not only as a Primordial, but as his predecessor.

“Then you are fine with Hypnos cataloging those who enter and Thanatos being sent out to collect those on the edge of death?”

Nyx waved him away.

Those would not be their eternal duties, but they were a place to start. That was what Hades truly needed. He was sure that Thanatos had done much of that to begin with, but Hypnos was busy napping. He could whip them into shape. He needed something done. Otherwise, Hades worried that he might overwhelm himself in all of his grand plans.

Get the House built. The extras could be a problem for the future. After all, knowing Zeus, Hades believed his brother might do something stupid or erratic. In that error, Hades could profit.

In the lust forest of her island, the ancient Primordial looked over her shimmering pool of water. Thankfully for Gaia’s needs, Rhea was either on another part of the island or she was busy working on her plan to seduce Zeus.

That was one part of Gaia’s new plan forward. For her part, she needed only her scrying pool. It provided a view into the events unfolding across the realm. Rhea’s eyes had always been for Ouranos; Gaia could finally see that. Her daughter had been madly in love with Gaia’s late husband. Zeus was only an extension of that love. If that could bring Rhea joy while they worked at their greater plan, then that would be fine by Gaia.

Gaia peered into the depths of the water with eyes as old as time itself. Older still, if her foolish son’s wayward connection was what had solidified the temporal flow of events. With this age, Gaia knew that she could not only focus on Zeus as king anymore. Her view of the realm needed to be wider, as all-encompassing as possible if she were to influence the events of the future.

The image of Metis standing with her children, the Cyclopes, swirled into sight in her water. That was where Gaia’s current focus needed to be.

Metis had Zeus’ heart. Gaia recognized that much of it, but he was a boy in so many ways, and a man in others. When it came to consolidating power, Zeus was better than both Cronos and Ouranos, but when it came to recognizing his own vulnerability, he was blinder than both.That was where the Earth Primordial hoped to make her opening.

Metis spoke of making a new chain for the Hecatoncheires. Gaia blanched at that. Zeus had given his word that they may go in peace. That showed how little value Zeus placed on the virtue of honesty. Gaia shook her head. She was right to be planning against him. He was more duplicitous than Ouranos.

Quickly, she rescinded her rage. Focus, not rage, was her ally in this strategy. Another chain was apt as it could represent another link in the eternal struggle between those on and below Olympus. Chaos versus order. Young versus old. Truth versus lies.

Gaia could see it.

Then, she heard something as damning as the chain itself. Metis told the Cyclopes to trust in Hades, not Zeus. The advice, in and of itself, was sound; however, to tell the Cyclopes that was tantamount to treason. The Titaness was telling Gaia’s children to step away from Zeus and his authority on Olympus. For their safety, it would makes sense to follow that nugget of wisdom, but Gaia knew Zeus, in his petulance, would not see the words as healthy advice.

This was just the act Gaia needed.

It only depended on Zeus now. Was he like his father and grandfather or was he his own person. If Gaia was right, and she knew him better than he had known himself, she knew she could use this to destable him.

Not for now ... No ... By Gaia’s estimation, she needed a century at the very least, but most likely, it would take millenia for her plans to come to fruition. There were parts of her design that she had not shared with her daughter.

Zeus’ line would replace him, and if Gaia was correct about the Curse of Ouranos only lasting three generations, then it would be Gaia’s son on that throne. She would not need the nectar of her sex to keep him in line as she had with Zeus. No. The proper king would admire her for who she was, not for the pleasures she could or could not give him. Gaia had already learned that loyalty for the sake of loyalty was worth more than any power over the elements that someone like Zeus had.

Cratus and his siblings could feel the air growing thinner as they ascended the rugged slopes of Mount Iapetus. At the summit, they found themselves standing before the solemn grave of Iapetus. His death by the hands of Cronos had been one of the sparking incidents that started the Great War. His legacy loomed over them as they approached his final resting place.

Cratus ignored his siblings as they paid their respects to Iapetus. He only cared about completing his task. Zeus did not tell him to lament a fallen Titan. All that mattered was Atlas.

As such, Cratus scanned the barren landscape past the mountain for any sign of Atlas. “Where is he?” he muttered, his voice tinged with impatience. He was about to strike the mountain itself until it crumbled into nothingness.

Bia held her brother back.

Cratus almost threw his clenched fist at her when he looked at her face.

“Wait,” Bia said, motioning to Nike. “Look.”

Nike’s gaze was darting all over as she bent down to inspect the grave. At the foot of Iapetus’ grave, there was a small bouquet of freshly bloomed flowers. Nike picked one of the flowers up and sniffed the petals. Rubbing her fingers against the stem and petals, she turned to their leader.

“He’s near, brother,” Nike stated with complete assurance. “These flowers are fresh, but I don’t feel any magic, so Atlas cannot be far.”

“Are you sure?” Zelus wondered. His arms were crossed in doubt. Clearly the trip felt as pointless to him as it did to Cratus.

The crucial difference is Cratus would be relentless. Atlas was their quarry, set to them by Zeus. This meant that even if Cratus was not given the honor of protecting the King of Olympus, he would see his mission through to its end.

“Atlas never used magic, but I know Prometheus has some capability. If he had set the flowers, he might have set some magical ones that would have lasted longer,” Nike explained.

“So they are new and mundane, and the only other person to mourn Iapetus, other than Prometheus and Epimetheus, would be...”

“Atlas,” Cratus said with a smirk. “We got you!”

Nike and Bia started inspecting the area around the grave and mountain. They would find clues where Cratus would not. That was enough for the powerful god. Atlas would be theirs. But would they beat the Furies to their target?

Hidden by the rugged peaks of the northern mountains, two towering forms met. One was the strongest of his kind. He was called Briareus of the Hecatoncheires. His brother was called Gyges, and he was the largest of the brothers.

“Where is he?” Briareus asked even as fear was seeping from his words into his bones. “It has been weeks. We have never gone this long without seeing one another.”

“We must find him,” Gyges rumbled. After being away from the other deities of Greece, he feared nothing.

Briareus recalled the wall in Tartarus. He dreamt of it. The nightmares of being drained slowly, waking to join their father’s spirit in that land of the dead. Sweat was starting to form on his many hands.

“But where, Gyges?” Briareus asked. His mind was lost in the pits of Tartarus to think straight.

Gyges considered the question with care. Cottus was the smallest and weakest of the three. There were not many threats in Greece that should have been able to harm them.

“I’m not sure. We cannot go to Olympus. Zeus may turn us away, and our mother is distant when it comes to us,” Gyges pointed out. He paused for a moment. “We could go to the Cyclopes but they are far, and we could be attacked between then and now.”

Briareus nodded in agreement. “But we cannot do nothing,” he said despite his own fear.

Their options were few. They could not deny that fact, but they were children of the King and Queen Primordials. That alone should have been a pedigree worthy enough of the privilege of being left alone.

Back and forth the two went before they heard the faint sound of wailing ... No. It was not wailing but screeching. Looking overhead the brothers saw winged women bearing down on them with the fires of ferocity itself.

With a roar of defiance, Briareus and Gyges braced themselves for the fight that they knew was to come.

“They certainly can talk forever,” Alecto shouted sardonically.

Megaera rolled her eyes. While she agreed with her sister’s sentiment, it would do them no good if those two stupid giant hundred handed beings did not separate.

“Which should we focus on, Tis?” Megaera asked.

Tisiphóné had the most critical pair of eyes between them. She observed the back and forth. The problem was that she had only ever battled one on the Hundred-Handed ones in Cottus. She had not bothered to learn his name. She had only noticed his strengths and weaknesses in him. That had been enough for his capture as that was what they had been tasked to do.

In this next step of their journey, she needed to see more. The problem was Tisiphóné could not see beneath the obvious.

“The smaller one,” she said without confidence. Her analytical mind was racing, trying to ensure her decision was the right one. “Once we start, we will need to commit to the target.”

The other two sisters saw Tisiphóné’s point. They each nodded before screeching in their battlecry to assault the two gigantic beings.

The clash erupted in those mountains, amidst the Hecatoncheires having their conversation. The earthy domain trembled.

Gyges used his immense size to swat at the flies. With each blow, the mountains themselves quaked as if afraid of the damage the monumental beings might do.

The Furies were unyielding by their very nature. Attacking would be all that they could do, regardless if they were by claw or whip, for the offense was fueled by their inexhaustible rage. Small wounds were inflicted at first, building up on the two immense beings. The Furies focused on the smaller as they planned, but all too quickly they realized that Tis’ assessment might have been poor.

Gyges, despite his immense size, was proving to be the weaker of the two. Alecto did not care. For her part, she cackled in the joy of inflicting pain. The silver and gold ichor might have been an interesting facet, just seeing the release of the life fluid brought the insane Fury joy.

Briareus fought with greater ferocity than his brothers. When he realized that hands would not work, he started to grab chunks of the mountain to hurl at the diminutive beings. His massive form was a whirlwind of destruction. He was quickly learning that even the strongest of the Hecatoncheires could not withstand the relentless assault of the Furies indefinitely.

What he could not see was why.

The Furies bobbed and weaved out of his way. With looks and small hand signs, they adapted to whatever the gargantuan children of Gaia and Ouranos threw at them. Whether it was fist, stone, head, open hand, elbows, or even stamping of their feet, the Hecatoncheires struck air more often than not.

Alecto’s cackle of pure joy was ringing in the ears of both of the brothers. For Gyges, the noise was motivation to battle on, to try harder. He would not be made a foot by such a small creature. For Briareus, it was recalling his father. He did not know how, but the winged beings were of his father; of that he knew even if he did not know how.

With a mighty roar, Gyges grunted forward, striking at Megaera and Tisiphóné, but the sisters would not allow themselves to be struck by one of their half-siblings. They pushed one another out of the way, and Gyges struck Briareus. Instinctively, Briareus retaliated, striking back at his brother without thinking. The blind attack was more powerful than expected, and with an outcry of pain, Gyges stumbled under the weight of the vicious blows before his massive form crashed to the ground with an earth-shattering thud.

Briareus saw his brother fall, realizing his mistake all too late. He looked from the flying Furies to his brother with fear coursing through his veins. The trepidation was becoming like a disease running through his body until it infected his very heart.

He turned to his fallen brother, starting to reach out. Before he could touch Gyges, looked upon the Furies. His vision of them was getting blurry. He was growing hot and unsure. Everything was wrong, the ground beneath felt like it was vibrating sand, coming to swallow him whole.

Briareus looked left to right. He had harmed his brother. How could he? He couldn’t. Never had he ever intended to strike his brother. He screamed at the very idea. His brother was his brother. He would no sooner chop off one of his hands and eat it. He knew that to be the truth, yet before him, he saw his brother, unconscious on the ground by his own doing.

With one final look at his unconscious brother, Briareus the Hecatoncheires, son of Gaia and Ouranos, mighty maker of weapons, ran.

Alecto cackled as she saw the fleeing form of the amazing being. “Flee! Flee! And never come back!” she cried.

Tisiphóné looked at the bolting escape of Briareus with curious eyes.

“Alecto!” Megaera exclaimed. “Focus on the task at hand!”

The three watched to ensure that Briareus was not going to return before they started to wrap Gyges up in their ever-expanding whips.

“Oh! Don’t think I forgot what you said, Tis,” Alecto spat. “The small one you said. It would be easier, you said,” she said with annoyed sarcasm.

“I do not recall saying it would be easier. I simply believed it was the right choice,” Tis said, empty of emotion.

Meg laughed at the exchange, but it was Tisiphóné’s words that made her laugh louder.

As they flew, Tisiphóné looked at the fallen Gyges then to her sisters. “If you hurt me, would you run off like the other one?” she asked, looking at her sisters.

Meg was stunned but Alecto appeared genuinely offended.

“Never! We’re sisters to the end. We didn’t run out on you when Cronos harmed you. We won’t run if it gets harder in the future,” she said with heartfelt honesty. When she realized how she sounded, Meg had a face that was almost teary-eyed. “Oh shove it up your ass and lift. Getting this guy to Olympus will take like three days. Dad had to get mom pregnant with these heavy fuckers!”