ToZ Bk 1: These Three Kings
Copyright© 2024 by Carlos Santiago
Chapter 2: The Game of Chance
Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 2: The Game of Chance - In the aftermath of the Great Titan War, the sons of Cronos—Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades—draw straws to determine their realms. Zeus claims Greece and Olympus, Poseidon takes the sea, and Hades becomes the ruler of the Underworld. Follow their personal journeys as they acclimate to their new responsibilities and face the challenges that come with their newfound power.
Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Fan Fiction High Fantasy War Alternate History Far Past Paranormal Magic Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Grand Parent Cream Pie Exhibitionism Big Breasts Body Modification Nudism Revenge Royalty Violence
“I verily, when the lots were shaken, won for my portion the grey sea to be my habitation for ever, and Hades won the murky darkness, while Zeus won the broad heaven amid the air and the clouds; but the earth and high Olympus remain yet common to us all.”
— Poseidon, in The Iliad, Book 15, line 187. Composed c. 8th century BCE. Translated by A.T. Murray. First published in The Iliad, Loeb Classical Library Vol. 2, Harvard University Press and William Heinemann Ltd., 1924. Public domain.
The near-silent start of the day dawned with a lack of ceremony that would not match the importance of the itinerary. The sons of Cronos would be drawing straws for the Throne of Mount Olympus.
While there were positions of power, in that of the Sea and the Underworld, up for grabs, those sovereignties were not on the mind of the masses. Only two beings had ever sat upon such a prestigious seat of Olympus in that of Cronos and Ouranos.
Public opinion was that whomever was chosen by this stroke of lucky fate would be destined to sit upon the Throne forevermore. After all, if chance chose this ruler, then surely the new king was meant to govern by the will of the Moirai themselves.
Thoughts of the public’s opinion bubbled in the background of Hades’ mind as he stood on the placid edge of Gaia’s isle. Sentiments of others were not often an incentive to do any action for him, but with events moving forward as they were, he was all too aware that Cronos’ replacement would be chosen on his grandmother’s sea haven.
With that observation in mind, a tumultuous tempest rivaling any storm his youngest brother could create brewed within him. His dark eyes betrayed a flicker of trepidation, which was a rare vulnerability that he dared not reveal to anyone but himself.
While he could admit that he loved Hera, she could not be allowed to see him in such susceptibility. The powerlessness was not a position for her to observe him in.
As the eldest son of Cronos, he had believed (after his liberation from the prison of his father’s innards of a stomach) that the throne of Olympus would be his birthright when the end of the war was in sight.
What he might never have considered in his youthful confinement became more of a possibility as the battles raged on. He saw the difference between himself and the other divinities. He was hard working, ferocious in the arena of war, careful to listen to counsel, and reasonable in his dealings with others.
As time went on, he could see the practicality of him inheriting what his father left behind. Destiny could not have created a higher expectation of him or a heavier burden for this being to carry than he had given himself.
However, as the fateful moment was quickly approaching, doubt gnawed at Hades like an unrelenting, interminable apparition. With how unfair his life had been to one such as Zeus or even his sisters, there was plenty of data for his apprehension.
What if the Fates did not favor him? What if the straws determined a different path for him? Would he have to give up Hera, the woman he had grown to love?
It was not the norm for him to allow such thoughts to cloud his mind. He was a being of action and inaction. He would act when he needed and rest and think while he was not. Every moment was built for practical use. To worry about the future felt like a novelty while within the stomach of Cronos, and when he was free, there was a war to fight.
Peace had thrown his entire worldview into question.
No answers came to his queries, so all there was to accept his reality in silence. In that pause, Hades’ thoughts lingered on Hera. They had forged an unexpected and passionate connection from a hidden, if not forbidden, affair.
Their lovemaking was a secret, but neither could hide the profound attachment they had to one another. There was also an enjoyment with Hera that made Hades feel young as if he had been given a freedom that he had never known. She returned an adolescence that circumstance had stolen from him.
More than that though, Hera had rescued him from an eternity of loneliness, which he had endured in Cronos’ belly and beyond. Even after Poseidon had arrived, Hades had felt alone and never fully understood by anyone else after his freedom in the outside world. That was his life until meeting Hera.
This goddess was truly unlike anyone else, and not because she claimed she held such a distinctiveness within herself but through her actions. She was steadfast, kind, strong in both body and will, and never shirked her duty.
If he were not crowned King of Olympus, Hades dreaded the ultimately tangible outcome of never being with Hera again. After all, she was made for Olympus, and even if he was in the Sea, he would have to visit the mountain, not live there, just to see her. She was made for better pastures than any he could walk.
Without her, there were no beings who could empathize with him. That would lead him back to a loneliness almost as terrible as his father’s prison for Hades. There would not be physical walls that he could not escape, but all beings had others who they could relate to and understand. Hades needed the same.
Did he not deserve to have interactions and connections like everybody else?
Without those feelings, he would be returned to a dark abyss of seclusion once again. The condemnation of solitude would be the most horrifying result for him, and he well knew that fact even if he never spoke about such a consequence out loud.
Hades pled to the Fates, to Chaos, to Gaia, to whomever would listen, that he might be spared such a sentence.
He would have been a good son if his father had not stripped him of that chance. He was a good brother to both Zeus and Poseidon despite their shortcomings. He had hoped that he would be a good lover to Hera.
If the worst were to occur, and Hades suspected it might somehow, he wondered what he might have done to deserve such torment.
Later that day, the moment had come when the gods of the newly won Olympus gathered on the pristine forestry of Gaia’s Island.
The isle itself was a place untouched by the ravages of the Great War and every bit a sanctuary of tranquility. The gentle breeze carried the scents of blooming flowers, and the crystal-clear waters whispered promises of everlasting peace.
For many in the audience, this was the outcome that they had yearned a decade for. The carnage of battle had grown to be too much for many. Of those plentitudes, an idea of who would reign after Cronos was the first question, for they saw the necessity to remove such a despot from power even if they did nothing to bring such a result into reality.
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