Chapter 1: Weighted Scales

“ ... but they themselves cast lots for the sovereignty, and to Zeus was allotted the dominion of the sky, to Poseidon the dominion of the sea, and to Pluto the dominion in Hades.”

— Apollodorus, The Library (Bibliotheca/Βιβλιοθήκη), Book 1, Chapter 2, Section 1. Composed c. 2nd century CE. Translated by Sir James George Frazer. First published in The Library, Vol. I of the Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press and William Heinemann Ltd., 1921. Public domain.

Peace fell onto Olympus quite well.

With the help of the Cyclopes, the large chain that once bound the one eyed beings and Hecatoncheires was put to use once more. With their skills honed by the consistent conflict of war, the Cyclopes were able to make the material stretch, so that each Titan could be bound within Tartarus.

The sons of Cronos (Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon) carried the Titans one at a time into Tartarus, binding them and locking them away. The Titans had been left in an enchanted sleep thanks to Hypnos. When the Titans awakened, the realm of Tartarus and the chains that bound them would leave them weakened and unable to free themselves.

It was also decided that some of the weaker Titans would be left in Greece, just in case someone tried to free one group of Titans, they could not free them all. A cage of light and adamantine was made. The key was Hera’s bow, which was locked away in a Mountain called Mount Epirus, and the lesser titans were left in a field of poppy flowers of Hypnos within the enclosure, so they would be able to sleep eternally.

With those matters settled, the question was fast becoming: ‘who would reign on Mount Olympus’?

It was in that spirit that each brother reconsidered the date of the straw pull. Each wanted every supporter of their new rule to know what was to come, and they each went about their time more freely. After all, all three of the sons of Cronos understood that once they were given a domain, they would no longer be free to be themselves.

Mount Olympus was abuzz with wondering who should be their next King.

Poseidon sought out Metis as she was the former war counselor to the three powerful brothers, Zeus, Hades, and himself. While many questions hung in the air, there was only one that weighed heavily on his mind.

This meant if there was anyone on Mount Olympus that could provide answers and put him at ease, it would be her. He would not wait to get the peace of mind he needed either.

“Metis,” Poseidon began when he was certain that they were alone in one of the many empty palaces on Olympus. His voice was tinged with a potent mixture of curiosity and apprehension. “What are the odds that I might succeed my father and become the King of Olympus?”

The daughter of Oceanus and Tethys was a contemplative being and regarded him with a penetrating gaze because of that thinking quality. She took a moment to choose her words carefully before responding.

“One in three,” she replied evenly. “The same odds that your brothers face. The whole point of drawing straws to see who will be king, Poseidon, is that it would be random but fair.”

Poseidon furrowed his brow, contemplating the implications of Metis’ answer. He was not a thinker. The war had rewarded that fearless abandon that had driven him. However, in placidity of peace, Poseidon was coming to instinctively know that he would need to anticipate consequences to his and other people’s actions, and if he could not predict what might occur, he could at the very least take a note from Metis and try contemplating his actions.

“What if I do not wish to rule over Olympus? What if my heart longs for dominion over the boundless seas?”

The question was not a rhetorical one. Poseidon was someone who knew who he was. Ever since he was a small boy in the belly of Cronos, he had an affinity for water and all of its majesty.

“You do not want to be King of Mount Olympus?” Metis wondered. “I should think that all three of you would want to sit where your father, and his father before him, sat.”

Poseidon shook his head. The words about his heart wanting the sea resonated in Metis’ ears because her father had always loved that domain. Although, if Metis had to recall, she could not be sure if it was Gaia, Oceanus, or Pontus who made the sea. There had always been water in her lifetime, and none of the previous generation seemed to speak of the origins.

For her, logic told her that her father had made the watery realm because Ouranos had been slain by a cliff in the sea, which meant the waters were made by her father, yet she heard tell that Gaia’s tears made the ocean. That information was unimportant in the matter at hand, so she returned her attention to her lover’s brother.

Metis offered a knowing smile and a comforting hand.

“Then rest assured that, I believe, either of your brothers would willingly trade the sea for the Throne of Olympus, if you hold no desire to rule over all the gods and the heights of Olympus.”

“Then...” Poseidon trailed off, hoping for exact clarification. “If I were to draw the longest straw, you are sure that Zeus or Hades would trade the straw representing the sea to me?”

She paused, not to get his hopes up. False promises would likely put her in a position of trouble with the second son of Cronos. Metis was no fool. She knew that the powers that were Hades, Zeus, and Poseidon were likely to establish a hold that lasted longer than either Cronos or Ouranos. After all, one did not fight a series of battles only to surrender their dominion to the next upstart.

Regardless of a fear of false promises, this Oceanid knew it was in her best interest to provide honest counsel.

“I believe so,” Metis replied confidently. “But if you draw the Underworld, you have my sympathy. No one wants that straw.”

Poseidon let out a humorless laugh.

She paused to ask a more serious question. “Why would you not want the Throne of Olympus though? Both Hades and Zeus crave it.”

“Come on, Metis. Both the Underworld and Olympus will take a lot of work to get under control. Whoever is in charge of the Underworld will have to look after the dead and the imprisoned Titans. That will take up a lot of time. And come on! Ruling Olympus. It seems to have a high likelihood of replacement, given both my father and grandfather. But the sea? Don’t you see? It runs itself. I can go out and have fun, and enjoy my time, and only answer to the King of Olympus. There’s no downside.

Metis stared confused bewilderment at the being that was Poseidon.

“I think this is the most thought I’ve seen you put into anything.

Poseidon laughed far more heartily in response to the Counselor.

“Oh! You know me, Metis. I like doing nothing. I will work hard all day, if it means doing nothing for the rest of eternity.”

An infectious grin formed over the gentlewoman’s face when she comprehended the words.

“There’s the idiot Poseidon I know,” Metis said both disappointed and mildly annoyed by the second son of Cronos. In response, he just grinned.

There were a multitude of places that the heir of Rhea could be.

The field of Thessaly had been in ruins. The golden ichor had stained the grounds, and that single attribute alone made that location memorable. While the violence was done and the conflict had been concluded, the fields still had smoke coming off the grass and soil. Centuries would pass before the grassland would ever fully recover.

Hera had seen that place enough. Without her bow, which she had given up so that her brothers could make a key to the cage for the lesser titans, she had come to despise the battlefield.

After all, it was a place where the divine were reminded that while they were timeless, their immortality was not as they had hoped in their youth. Age had done its work to temper Hera’s youthful arrogance.

She could have gone to Mount Othrys, but she had come to loathe that rocky outcropping where the gods had spent most of their time during the Titanomachy. That place was just another reminder of the war.