EoM Bk 1: The Gift of Fire
Copyright© 2026 by Carlos Santiago
Chapter 12: Where Power Resides
“Justice is nothing else than the interest of the stronger.”
— Thrasymachus, The Republic (Πολιτεία), Book I (338c), Plato. Composed c. 375 BCE. Translation by Benjamin Jowett by way of The Dialogues of Plato (1875). Public domain.
Prometheus was dragged through the city of Olympus as if he were already dead.
Cratus had Nike and Zelus hauling the body of broken flesh through the city. They might have teleported to Zeus’ palace. They could have flown over the city to land at Zeus’ front steps. There might have been a hundred different options as to how they could have carried the former-advisor, but this was not about transportation. This was about sending a message.
That communication was well received.
Gods paused mid-conversation.
Lesser divinities froze, nymphs gaped, but no one did anything other than whisper.
Words like: That’s Prometheus, Zeus’ advisor, and he’s been meddling.
The rumors quickly fed themselves. Before they so much as reached the palace of the King of Olympus, there were a thousand justifications as to why Zeus and his protectors felt it necessary to harm this once-beloved titan.
Zeus waited within his palace. Everyone everywhere would be holding their breath. None of this mattered because, in his heart of hearts, Prometheus knew the outcome of this meeting was decided long before Cratus grabbed him.
Olympus just might hold its breath, the city might gossip, but no one would do anything to stand in the way of the King of Mount Olympus.
For that reason alone, Prometheus knew what he was doing was right.
Never before had she seen such a brutal display.
She had been a princess of the sea, and she was representative of the royal marriage between herself and Poseidon, yet Amphitrite was coming to understand the shifts her mother was talking about.
Olympus was firmly under Zeus’ grasp.
Poseidon’s loss was through no fault of his. The defeat had come from the brutal convictions of the god who ruled Olympus.
In the arena of conquest, the youngest son of Cronos would not be denied.
She was starting to see that.
And in this curious set of circumstances she found presented in the moment, she realized why her mother had been intimate with Poseidon all of those years ago.
If one did not adapt, they would be cast to the wayside or, worse, killed.
Her options were becoming smaller and smaller by the seconds yet still she could see the one she had presented to her. It was the same that her mother had presented herself all those millennia ago.
Only this time, Amphitrite was not deciding to have an affair out of nowhere as her mother had. Zeus had made clear that he wanted her carnally. What would he give to ensure his prize and to have the secret hand over his brother?
As she lowered her head, the last bit of pride in her femininity left. She knew what she was bartering with and what that might mean, but that did not mean it was not necessary. If the cruelty of being done to this Prometheus was a sign of what Zeus might do to those that opposed him, Amphitrite knew what she would need to do someday soon
The throne room stood in silent judgment when Prometheus fell to the ground pathetically.
While there were no restraints on him, he was grabbing at his midwaist, trying to hold back the ichor leaking out of his body.
When he looked up, he found that Cratus and his family were gone, Athena was nowhere to be seen, and Zeus was rising from his throne.
“Why did you do this, Prometheus? Why did you betray me after everything we have done together?”
Prometheus had considered what would happen if he answered the question directly. Zeus would be upset, beat him, but ultimately chain him to the mountain. In some cases, there were circumstances where the king would be so enraged that he would kill Prometheus.
Those outcomes could not be allowed. However, there was a question that would paralyze Zeus, and Prometheus finally understood why.
“What happened to Metis?”
Zeus froze as Prometheus knew he would. As the instances passed before him, Prometheus realized that this was less of an effort and more of playing with a child. The adult knew where the situation would end, and the child was struggling to understand.
“How did you know?” Zeus breathed.
That was not nearly enough. Zeus needed to be honest about the past. In this room, they were alone; there would be no other place and time for the King of Olympus to be as sincere as the circumstances before Prometheus.
“I want you to say why you did it,” Prometheus said. “Metis was loyal to you. She loved you. She never would have betrayed you or Olympus.”
“Except she might have! She could have birthed a son to defeat me.”
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