Chapter 3: The Summit of the Sons of Cronos

“We are three brothers born by Rheia to Kronos, Zeus, and I, and the third is Haides, lord of the dead men.”

— Poseidon, Homer. Iliad 15.187 ff. Translated by Richmond Lattimore. (Greek epic, 8th century BCE). Copyright © public domain.

He appeared in a watery splash of light.

Dressed in his aquatic themes of sea blue, mossy green, and an accentuating royal silver, the sea king was every bit as regal as the King of Olympus. His bioluminescent markings on his arms made him look threatening even if his eyes gaze off a warmth that could not be denied.

With trident in hand, he was about to march forward when a shadowy swirl appeared next to him. Poseidon turned to see his elder brother dressed in the darkest black, burgundy red, and an amethyst purple. His black hair might have mirrored his younger brother but there were whitish gray streaks on his head and jaw.

“Ah, Hades!” Poseidon said cheerfully. “Good to see you, brother!”

“Welcome, brother,” Hades replied simply.

Poseidon would not have that. They had been in each others’ lives since nearly the beginning of Poseidon’s life. They were bound by the blood of their parents and their time spent together. If there was any person who was his best friend, it was Hades.

The younger brother wrapped him up in a hug.

“Come now! You must be more excited!” Poseidon exclaimed, putting his brother down.

Hades allowed the embrace, but he kept his hand latched to his bident.

“I am not,” Hades said simply.

“You can’t still be upset that Zeus left you out of the Olympians,” Poseidon said with the tinge of asking a question.

“When he flagrantly disrespects you, you may come to see my perspective,” Hades replied gruffly.

Poseidon rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Come now!” he exclaimed, confused by his brother’s grudge.

The two began to walk through the city. Despite their stature and notoriety, no one dared approach. As the Chthonic King, Hades had an aura that repelled the gods of Olympus. This aura did not prevent Poseidon from being close to his brother while flashing a welcoming smile to the populace of the city.

“Fine! If it is such a problem, we can bring this up at the meeting with Zeus. No matter what slight he has given you, we are brothers, Hades. That’s more important.”

“Perhaps,” Hades replied. He only considered the words because of his brother’s nature.

Apollo lounged beneath the shade of a tree. He was glad to have a day off from being in charge of the chariot.

His golden wreath framed his head well, his muscled frame displayed his divine perfection, and his sun-dipped hair made him all the more majestically beautiful as he lay relaxed against the smooth grass.

A day where he did not have to lead the sun steeds was a rare reprieve, so he planned to enjoy his leisurely serenity.

However, his sharp gaze found a sight worth noticing. The path leading to the grand entrance of Zeus’ throne room had two visitors that were uncommon even for the mountainous heights of Olympus. Poseidon and Hades were walking down the trail, talking to one another. While both were not Olympian, they were still two formidable sons of Cronos. Their fame was second to none.

Poseidon strode with effortless regality. Apollo’s eyes latched onto the glowing tattoos on his uncle’s bronzed arms. The trident he bore was a legendary artifact from the Great War. There was not a divinity alive that did not shiver in the memory of when gods battled the Titans for reign of Mount Olympus.

Beside one of Apollo’s uncles was another uncle. Hades was a swirl of shadows. Obsidian black, burgundy red, and amethyst were the colors of his clothes. His black hair was streaked with silver, which Apollo found to be disgusting.

Supposedly, Hades was the oldest of the brothers, but he never was seen on Olympus. He had been banished to some lesser, dark, dank, worthless realm. It was no wonder that the light from Apollo’s chariot never touched that place.

He watched as the two walked together. Why would Poseidon pretend that they were equals? Poseidon’s presence commanded reverence and respect. Hades was some unworthy outcast. He was not even an Olympian.

Apollo’s jaw tightened as he watched them. A discordant note of envy struck one of his heartstrings.

Apollo was the son of the King of Olympus. He was the god of the sun and music. He may not have been as good of an archer as his sister, but knowing how few gods on Olympus could do what he and his sister made Apollo realize how superior he was to most of them.

He deserved the fame and reverence that was wasted on one like Hades.

A sudden gust of wind captured his attention. He did not even turn his head to recognize the arrival of Hermes. The fleet-footed messenger was barely taller than Apollo’s shoulder. He skidded to a halt beside him.

Hermes tilted his head, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. He did not need an invitation from Apollo to talk. After all, that was one of the many qualities that Hermes was famous for.

“Hey, hey, Boss!” Hermes chirped. “What’s this? Watching the real Big Guys, huh?”

Apollo’s lips pressed into a thin line as he cast a sidelong glance at Hermes, who wore a grin that stretched ear to ear.

“How do they command so much respect?” Apollo murmured. He barely turned his head to acknowledge his brother. “They are given prestige and power, but what have they really done on Olympus in these centuries?”

“Oh, come on, big guy!” Hermes interrupted, flashing a cheeky smile. “You’re the golden beacon of Olympus! What’s a little fame and political weight when you’ve got, you know, the literal sun in your pocket?”

Hermes could see the flare in Apollo’s nostrils, the subtle clenching of his fists. There would be no appeasing the sun god.

Hermes’ grin widened as he leaned in.

“But,” he added with a theatrical whisper, “let’s be real, Pol. You’ll not quite in their league. They’re heavy hitters. Overthrew grandpa, if you recall. Not exactly a fair fight, right?”

Apollo’s eyes blazed as he turned fully to face Hermes. A threat of a blow was coming, but before he could retort or strike, Hermes was already dashing off.

In a simple exchange, somehow his brother had cut through to the matter at hand. Apollo was popular, beloved, and he had goddess after goddess throwing themselves at him, but when it came to the real run of Olympus, he might as well be a nymph that needed Aunt Demeter’s protection.

With a final glance at the summit, Apollo turned and walked away. Hermes did give him an idea though. The problem was he was not sure how he would go about making it come to pass.

“Are you sure of what you heard?” Cratus asked.

“I am saying I did not hear anything,” Bia said.

The four siblings sat around a rectangular table. Cratus was looking at his winged sister. For their part, Nike and Zelus simply watched on.

Since their elevation, Zeus had given them a palace. They were not one of the Olympians, so they did not have as much power or prestige, but Zeus ensured that they did not lack for grandeur.

These four siblings were his protectors, and he had rewarded them for their loyalty to him. Between them, however, it was understood that they were loyal to each other. It was Cratus that was their leader and focal point. To follow him is what had brought them success, and they would continue on their path because it was what had served them well.

“Then what did it feel like?” Cratus asked.

“I could have sworn Athena was upset with Prometheus for obeying Zeus.”

“Didn’t you say that Prometheus was the loyal one?” Zelus inquired from the sidelines.

“No!” Bia shot back. “We were cruel to one who has always been loyal. I was not saying he would not turn on Zeus.”

“That’s why you brought this to me?” Cratus wondered. He crossed his strong arms. He shook his head. “I will speak with Zeus. You three. Continue to watch Prometheus.”

Olympus bathed the palace of Zeus in a light of favor. The meeting of the three kings was not something taken lightly in the land of the gods, but when it did happen, Zeus was quick to appear as the king he was.

The figures of Poseidon and Hades walked up the steps to his palace with the grace of their stations. No matter the domains, they were rulers in every sense of the word.

As he should, he awaited them at the grand entrance. White robes threaded with gold was his adornments. He greeted his brothers with a nod.

He did all he could to be as formal as ever.

Poseidon stepped forward first as he was more familiar with Zeus’ Olympus. The markings along his arms, the hues of sea colors, and coral wreath crown all made it seem as though Poseidon was one with the sea.

Hades followed with his usual gruff demeanor. His dark attire of black, burgundy, and amethyst gave him an air of solemn authority, but was a constant reminder of the discarded domain he ruled. Compared to the head that was Olympus, the Underworld was practically the dirt on the godly realms’ feet. That did not stop Zeus from noting the gray streaks in his brother’s hair and beard. His bident rested against his shoulder.

Zeus extended his arm, gesturing for them to enter. “Brothers, welcome.”

Inside his palace, the grandeur of Olympus gave way to the austere solemnity of the meeting chamber. The room was perfectly square. There were no carvings here, but rather drapery of the finest fabric, lamps of fire to light the area. At its center stood a round table, carved from a single slab of polished stone. The surface was etched with intricate designs.

The table bore three distinct symbols, each encased in a circular emblem: a lightning bolt striking Mount Olympus, a trident cresting a wave, and a bident plunging into a dark void.

Zeus took his place in the seat before the lightning bolt symbol. His lightning bolt slid into a dedicated stand beside him. Even when it was not in use, the weapon crackled faintly with contained power.

Poseidon placed his trident in a similar stand as he sat.

Hades set his bident next to him after he had sat down comfortably. The dark metal seemed to enjoy lapping up the light of the room.

With each seated, the atmosphere grew thick from tensions between these brothers. Whether they admitted it or not, Hades and Zeus had a precarious relationship at best. Poseidon had once been Hades’ most trusted friend and confidant, but after the Great War, Poseidon had seen fit to be more a god of the sea and Olympus rather than a good brother who had lived in the belly of Cronos with Hades. Zeus, who had spoken of equality after their ascension, had been quick to ignore Hades and to declare Poseidon an Olympian. While Hades saw that position as an honor he had been denied, by Zeus announcing and naming the Olympians, he was, without saying it, putting himself above those on that prestigious council.

The circular table could be symbolic of their equal standing, but the simple truth was that it was a fragile bridge over the vast chasm of their unspoken differences.

Zeus leaned forward, his voice steady but commanding. “Brothers, it had been some time since we spoke.”

“Whose fault is that?” Hades asked with crossed arms.

“Understandable, Brother,” Zeus said back with lifted arms. “I can admit mistakes when I make it.”

“Such as keeping me out of the Olympians?” Hades asked gruffly.

“Now, Brother...” Poseidon said, trying to interject.

“Did you or did you not stand on this mountain and tell me there would be no stigma against the Underworld?” Hades exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table. “You told me there would be twelve seats of power. One for you. One for Poseidon, and one for me!”

Zeus flinched when Hades stood.

Never before had conflict ever broken out between them. To have a friendly, brotherly scuffle was one thing. It would be quite another to have all out war with the Underworld.

“Well, I did,” Zeus conceded slowly. He raised his hands, hoping to placate his darker counterpart. “You must know, Brother, that Olympus is not quite the same as it used to be and has different needs from when we were younger.”

“Those are many words for ‘I went back on my word’,” Hades said. He let out gruff laugh. “And you came to me for a favor for Leto and her children.”

He shook his head in disappointment at his sibling.

“Is that true?” Poseidon asked. He turned from the Chthonic King to the Olympus King.

“It is,” Zeus admitted with a nod. “Just as I gave favors to almost all of the Olympians, including you, Poseidon. I have never once tried to control the storms over the sea.”

“That’s true,” Poseidon said, deep in thought.

Zeus, seeing one king was pacified, turned to the other. “Let us discuss righting and respectfully ruling the realms, Dear Brother, and after, let’s see if I can’t make right by you.”

Hades could see Zeus was hinting at something that might make it worth his time. He made a motion for Zeus to speak and feel as important as he wanted.

“Very well. Commence the meeting.”

Athena knew there was one person on all of Olympus who actually understood Zeus. She had been made his queen, and she had bore him a son and heir.

She found the Queen of Olympus, sitting on a bench. The daughters of Atlas were tending to her many trees. The one tree that they did not touch was the one gifted to Hera by the Earth Primordial.

“It is not polite to stare, Athena. If you want to speak with me, speak. Do not linger at an archway like a gawking pheasant.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Athena said. “But I wish to speak with you on a more private matter.”

Hera looked at Athena carefully. She had known Metis a long time. Metis was the one who had been meant to be queen if Zeus had been given final say. However, the Fates, Zeus, and Typhon had different plans for him.

Hera looked to the Hesperides girls and waved them away. Like dutiful servants, they went away from Hera.

“What is it you would like to know, Dear Athena?” Hera asked, genuinely curious as to what the daughter of Metis could want.

Athena paused, keeping her air of formality for Hera.

“Queen of the Heavens, I seek your acute counsel on a matter of great import.”

Hera tried to wave at Athena. “You need not be so formal with me, Athena. I knew your mother, and I know your birth was no choice of yours.”

“That I will not do,” Athena said simply. “You are the Queen.”

Hera sighed. “Very well. What is this counsel you need?”

“Tell me, do you believe Zeus is a king worthy of his throne?”

Hera flinched. She knew a question like this might come, but she never expected such a question to come from Athena. After all, Athena was the daughter of Metis and Zeus, and Metis had been loyal to a fault when it came to Zeus. That this child was having doubts worried Hera.

“Your father ... My husband...” Hera started, unsure of how to continue. She knew if she let too much of her own doubts infect her words, she would lose this young goddess as a friend and ally. “He may be far from perfect, wise Athena, but he is a king who has brought order after the fall of the Titans, and since the fall of Typhon, he has created a certain stability that ensures none dare rise against us.”

Hera laughed a little, considering Zeus’ many faults. The one that came to mind most was his wayward eye. “His reign, though erratic at times, has preserved the peace of our divine realm, and for that, he remains a king deserving of his crown.”

“Then, my queen, might you share with me the truth of my mother, Metis?” Athena wondered.

Hera found herself unable to move. The look in Athena’s eyes warned Hera that she would accept no deception. While Hera was not completely sure of the truth, she had her suspicions.

“As to that, dear Athena,” Hera said cautiously. “My husband’s power is vast with a sight reaching far and ears that hear many whispers.” She gave the wise goddess a stern look. “Some truths, believed or not, are better left unspoken in the silence where even his gaze cannot penetrate.”

Athena almost lunged at the queen, but she held herself back. Rather than an outburst, she heard and understood the warning given.

“Then, my queen,” Athena said, careful to heed Hera’s injunctive censor. “If fear must shroud our words, does that not cast doubt upon his worthiness?”

Hera sighed. “It does, Athena,” she conceded. “I promise you that it is not easy to bear that truth, but he is king.”

Athena considered the statement. “He is,” Athena said, bowing. “He is king ... now.”

The word lingered between them for only a moment before Athena left Hera’s gardens.

“Then it’s decided?” Hades asked curtly.

Poseidon looked at Zeus expectantly.

“It is. No Olympian, let alone gods from Olympus shall enter either of your domains, whether the sea or the Underworld without express permission from their appropriate ruler. Does that suffice?”

Hades nodded. “I assume the same is true in return?” he added.

“Olympus is open to all gods,” Zeus said benevolently.

Poseidon looked at his brother suspiciously. At that moment, he could see what his wife was warning him about. Zeus was playing them, all of them.

Poseidon found himself staring at one brother, then another. He could see the resentment from Hades, and the challenge within Zeus. Hades was battling to stay equal to their brother while Poseidon clearly had lost that battle long ago without knowing it.

Poseidon had thought being named an Olympian was Zeus recognizing him as important to the grand roles of Olympus, but it was just another way for Zeus to maintain control and superiority over the others.

Hades did not know how lucky he was to not have to play the games that Zeus was clearly ahead at.

With everything decided, Poseidon wondered what he should say, if anything.

He was not one to weigh out the benefits to consequences. That was more Pontus or Prometheus. His youthful passions had been tempered by ruling. This change did not alter him entirely.

When he was with his brothers, he found himself being that very same go-with-the-flow brother. The biggest difference between then and that moment was that the fun was gone, but Zeus and Hades were the ones running the events.

Those two had always been fighting over who was in charge. The epiphany that struck the second son of Cronos and Rhea was as powerful as a tidal wave slamming into a rocky shore line.

While he had been enjoying life, they had been rooting their holds on the realms. They had built power bases. Poseidon’s love of and life on the sea had been all he had needed until he realized just how much influence Zeus and Hades truly had. That was what Poseidon needed.

That was the fundamental truth he was learning.

That meant, if Poseidon was to have any true power for himself, he needed to prove he was their equal or their better. For that to be the case, he knew what he needed to do.

Both of them would need to be distracted to be off balance. For Zeus, he would need the truth, but for Hades, Poseidon was not sure what it would require to keep the attention of his elder brother.

“That should suffice, then,” Zeus said.

“Well actually,” Poseidon interrupted slowly. “There were these two young gods that came to my city of Poseidonus recently, They called themselves Aegis and Eletheia.”

Hades barely raised an eyebrow to this, but Zeus seemed shocked when he heard the names.

“I am sure I have children,” Zeus said, trying to hide his shock behind laughter. “But I do not know these children.”

Poseidon considered saying more. However, he faltered because he was not sure. He recalled the children bringing up Gaia and Rhea, but what if that was only said because they had gone to his mother and grandmother beforehand? That information could be deadly if Poseidon was too quick to tell his brother.

“Thank you for that piece of information, Poseidon, but if that is all. I think we should call this meeting concluded.”