@aegisframed
“Medusa!” Iris sobbed, pounding her tiny fists on the door. “Medusa! Please! Euryale! Stheno! Please open up-- It’s me, it’s Iris, it’s just Iris--”
The Olympians didn’t call her Iris. They stiffly called her the Thaumantia, referring to a child of Thaumas. It was a reminder that, even if the Titanomachy was freshly over, they still knew Iris’ family consisted of enemies and traitors. It didn’t help that Zeus himself had wracked revenge on Arke, who had the exact same face as Iris. Mends were still being made, and while young Hermes and Hebe smiled at Iris when they saw her, it still felt terribly lonely-- especially for a young girl who’d lost connections with her mother, father, brother, and twin sister in one awful war.
All she’d had left, sans the sharp-toothed sisters that bit and scratched and required feeding, were her cousins. They’d accepted her with open arms, the tiny goddess with no one to turn to, and held her as her heart wept enough golden ichor to fill a room.
That morning, the mountain had been terribly quiet. Poseidon and Athena looked ready to murder each other, more so than usual, so much that the entire throne room felt it might implode with tension. Hermes tugged on Iris’ chiton, whispering horrible, horrible news. But don’t worry, it was just some Nereids-- Medusa and her sisters. It’s sad, but probably no one we knew.
Iris felt a horrible sliver of ice run down her spine. The tension of the room was broken with a bloodcurdling scream as Iris exploded forth her path of raw rainbow, practically tripping over her own heels to run to her cousins. Hermes stumbled back, wide-eyed as Iris vanished.
( There had to be a mistake, for there was no one in the world that deserved to go through that horrible act, and especially not her cousins. Not the only ones she had left, no. Not her family, not again. It had to be some other Nereids, some other tragic tale, some confused rumor of a story-- )
“Medusa! Please!” Iris bawled, slamming her entire thin body against the door as hard as she could. She rammed her shoulder again and again, feeling ichor trickle from her tender flesh, but continuing to beat down the door. “Open! I-- Please!” Her little girl voice cracked with desperation. “I, Iris of Olympus, c-c-command you to-- open the door! Someone, please!”











