This is the continuation of:
A drop in an ocean, destiny or chance?
Warnings: Implication of death, pregnancy, and childbirth mentioned; identity theft is mentioned; Atria ragebaiting Poseidon every two minutes.
Anguish with a happy ending; the author doesn't regret anything; we die like mortals; Poseidon is cruel to his feelings; I honestly don't know what I'm doing, but I'm trying; I'm mixing ancient and modern weddings; I used paste art attack to make everything make sense.
Author's note: I am not an expert in mythology and English is not my first language, nor do I want it to be,I'm mostly drawing inspiration from the behavior of gods as seen in anime; I'm not trying to resemble gods or Hellenistic beliefs. I'm not trying to be disrespectful to the gods; their behavior is heavily inspired by my own understanding of anime. :^)
Destiny, is it a blessing or a curse?
Oh, what's happening? Why was Erato's sweet melody cut like fabric under the weight of time? How strange and discordant that a muse's melody should be shattered like a falling vessel, producing such a loud crash that even the most foolish strain their ears to hear what will happen.
But of course, could a story be complete with just romance? No, it doesn't work that way. It's been said since the beginning of time that each person has two vases in their destiny: one of tragedy and one of achievements, joys, or glory, however you want to call it. A good poem has action! Strength! Drama and tragedy! And who better to shatter the illusion of what we call love than Melpomene herself, muse of tragedy? She will help me narrate the other side of the coin, for gold shines before the eyes, but it contains impurities within, and we cannot afford to lose ourselves in the sweetness of love; that is very dangerous... Perhaps loving too much is deadly, even for the gods.
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A kiss and a promise—that's how this story began, leaving all the gods who heard it completely confused. News travels fast, especially thanks to Hermes. In no time, the gods of all the pantheons knew the astonishing and unmistakable news: the tyrant of the seas was marrying the goddess who guarded the pantheons. Through the marble and flower-lined corridors, one could hear the confused questions of those gods who thought this was some kind of cruel joke meant to confuse and distract the others. But who would dare joke about something so serious? Who would dare to bother and mock the gods without risking their life in the attempt? Not even the most daring and shameless humans would dare to make such insinuations.
But it wasn't a joke, a lie, or a magnificently staged performance; it was real, and the silver jewels on the fingers of those two gods were unmistakable: pure silver bands, forged by Hephaestus and exquisitely decorated by the nymphs, matching rings—something few gods can imagine. Physically binding oneself to another is utter madness! No one in their right mind would do it; no one is that insane!
"Oh, come on! They're just rings, and they're adorable! Please, a silver band on your finger is going to kill you, or are you allergic to jewelry?" The exasperated voice of the young goddess made itself known as the nymphs tried not to react to her words, too frightened to laugh at the goddess's almost childish behavior. The icy, deadly gaze of the water god kept them restrained and silent; they couldn't risk upsetting their lord at such an important moment, as they were preparing the garments the gods would wear for their wedding, so imminent in everyone's eyes.
"Are you trying to convince me to lower myself to the level of mortals? Am I comparable to those pathetic beings in your eyes? I don't need ties, or anything physical. I'm giving you a wedding. Doesn't that quell your insatiable human desire?" The god's voice betrayed weariness and exhaustion, perhaps with subtle hints of irritation if you listened closely. "If that makes you happy, I'll agree to follow those ridiculous human traditions, but don't let it go to your head. I'm not a brand, I'm not a pet, nor your property, so don't you dare think of me that way." Displeasure and resignation hung in the air like a thick fog, though the goddess seemed completely indifferent, happily accepting her victory over the god. "Don't make me regret this. It's enough that you don't cover your mouth during the ceremony," the god huffed in discontent, leaving the room to confirm the final details, leaving the young goddess talking to herself.
The wedding was planned for the end of winter, ushering in the bright spring, so that the ceremony would be full of life and joy, unlike the cold winter. With the arrival of Persephone and the happiness of Demeter, Mount Parsanus, which Apollo offered as an act of goodwill, looked divine, and Olympus paled before the exquisite decorations created by the nymphs. The Muses descended from their lofty thrones to sing music, chants, and poems to fill the magical place. Apollo led the choir; his melodious lyre set the rhythm To the wedding march, gods from all corners of the earth came to celebrate and congratulate the bewildered but new couple. Gods from every pantheon came and mingled easily, amidst gifts, happiness, and drinks like nectar and wine. And just in case anyone feared the evening might be ruined, Heracles personally inspected every gift brought to ensure that none were fruits. If anyone wondered why not fruit, asking the Trojans was an option.
Upon arriving at the place, all singing ceased, and silence filled the air, followed by the soft sound of the lyre marking the rhythm of their walk. They walked side by side, carrying white candles in their hands. His brothers were present and cheering. There was no family on his side, for she had not been born anywhere, but at the same time, gods from every pantheon were enjoying themselves with great enthusiasm, scattering white petals to mark the bride and groom's path.
She wore a long white and pale blue evening gown with a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt that flared out towards the hem. It was decorated with intricate gold trim that ran along the bodice, sleeves, and hem. The dress had a high neckline and bell sleeves that reached the floor. The gold trim featured intricate patterns reminiscent of floral designs and geometric symbols. The white fabric was soft and lustrous, while the pale blue fabric was light and sheer, creating an ethereal effect.
This entire magnificent ensemble, which would have been the envy of anyone fortunate enough to witness it, was completed with a pale blue cape that extended from her shoulders to the floor. The cape was decorated with gold trim at the hem and featured a star print on the back.
Some say that those who gazed upon the young goddess were mesmerized by her beauty, her hair gathered in an elaborate braid that left the rest loose—a braid she cherished, having begged her partner for days to be the one to braid it.
Everyone looked at her, but she only had eyes for one person in that place, the one who saw not only her beauty but was captivated by her radiant smile, so full of happiness that he longed to protect it.
He didn't need to smile; she smiled for them both, and he would die just to keep that smile on her beautiful face. Hymen was in charge of the ceremony. The vows and blessings were quickly distributed as the rings, which had cost the goddess so much effort, were placed on her fingers. And when they shared a kiss under the sunlight, the singing and celebration officially began. Three days and three nights filled with festivities and blessings that even mortals enjoyed. No matter the corner of the world, everything was filled with happiness and joy. And what happened after the celebration ended and each god returned to their domain and home is left to the imagination of the most daring and creative minds, for no god will ever confirm or deny what occurred.
"Get away from me! Your hands are cold! Get away, you hideous, cold thing!" The goddess's screams, along with the commotion below—muffled sounds of thumps and stumbles—would have confused and made anyone in Atlantis think the worst. Even the Nereids, too curious for their own good, dared to peek through the door of the two gods' room, but to their surprise and relief, the situation was ridiculous, not dangerous. There on the bed was Atria, clinging to a pillow as if it were some kind of weapon capable of stopping the god who was trying to get her down. "Atria! Get down from there and stop screaming like a seagull! You're going to fall and hurt yourself, you immature goddess. If anything happens to you, I won't forgive you!" Poseidon's voice was tense and alarmed, clearly trying to maintain his composure but finding it very difficult given his annoyance at the goddess's antics.
"Atria! Get down from there and stop screaming like a seagull! You're going to fall and hurt yourself, you immature goddess. If anything happens to you, I won't forgive you!" "I'm not getting off! And you can't force me. I know what you're planning, and I won't do it. You're not going to touch me with those cold, icy hands of yours, do you hear me—" The goddess's words trailed off, her voice dropping to a whisper. She stumbled to the ground without ceremony or shame, causing collective horror among the terrified Nereids. But those curious, voyeuristic nymphs didn't manage to scream in terror, for as soon as the goddess collapsed, her lover was already moving, catching her body before it could hit the bed, or worse, the floor.
Although Atria's brief fainting spell was short-lived, the goddess recovered with divine ease, blinking and adjusting to the light and sounds, feeling as if she were being supported by someone. This was quite accurate; her back was resting against Poseidon's chest, the nape of her neck resting on his shoulder, completely reclining, complained in a shaky, slurred voice, "Ugh, your hands are still cold," letting him, not by choice, encircle her abdomen with his hands, resting his cold hands on the Goddess's swollen belly.
"And you are unbearable, you scream like a seagull and behave like a seal without the slightest instinct for survival. You're lucky I like you, or I'd tie you to the bed." The God's words were sharp, but there was no fire in them, only annoyance born of worry and irritation at his reckless wife.
"Ugh, your hands are still cold." "I wouldn't mind if you tied me up," the Goddess joked in response, earning herself a pinch on the side from the god. "Just kidding! Just kidding, Poseidon, let me go! Hahaha, help!" The goddess squealed nervously, laughing at the tickles from the pinches, but unfortunately, there was no one to help her, and she would have to endure the punishment for her recklessness.
A melodious voice filled the palace, attracting the attention of the Nereids passing nearby. The Goddess had recently returned from a very pleasant visit to the human world. Poseidon wasn't a fan of such visits, especially considering the Goddess's delicate condition, but despite her husband's concerns, she was determined to enjoy the few days she could spend out and about. She even brought back some beautiful purple flowers, which she placed in her own personal garden.
A melodious voice filled the palace, attracting the attention of the Nereids who were passing by. It's a well-known rumor, but only those nymphs and gods who live in Atlantis can confirm that the fearsome tyrant of the seas created a perfectly manicured garden just so his wife could enjoy the flowers and pollen without having to risk leaving Atlantis, as her condition had been worsening over the months, and she was in no condition to leave without taking a terrible risk.
Her soft humming stopped when she sensed a nearby presence, causing her to lift her head and smile at the sight of Poseidon. It struck her as odd, though, since he was visiting the Oracle of Delphi to inquire about the future and any prophecies that might affect his son or daughter. Even the nymphs looked confused, wondering why their lord had returned so soon. But Atria felt something was amiss; the look in his eyes was unsettling, even frightening. And although the goddess wasn't always good at following her own instincts, she chose caution, not wanting to be indifferent to the dangers that anything out of the ordinary might pose in her less-than-pleasant state.
"Poseidon, my dear, I'm glad you're back so soon. Would you care to help me with the flowers? They're fresh, and I need a little help." The goddess's voice was both tense and gentle, gesturing to the nymphs to leave the garden, leaving the two gods alone. Although the nymphs were reluctant to leave their queen alone, they obeyed nonetheless.
The atmosphere in the room was subtle, that unsettling feeling you get when you know something isn't right, when things don't quite fit. The words hung in the air as the two gods silently planted the flowers. Even the peaceful, gentle nature of the garden seemed to wither and hide before the unspoken.
The goddess allowed herself a moment of respite, closing her eyes and inhaling the soft scent of the flowers that usually calmed her in any situation. She rested her hand on her belly, feeling the gentle movement beneath her robes.
But her body tensed like a spring about to snap when she felt fingers on her cheek. She squinted to see the god touching her cheek in a way that made her body shudder with fear; the air in the garden seemed frozen in the face of the situation.
"Aren't you ashamed? Or do you think the way I acted is in accordance with my will?" the goddess's voice broke the silence, but there was no warmth in it, only a cold, unsettling calm that made the god's hand release her cheek. Even so, she didn't move; she didn't need to.
"I see, you're not afraid because you don't think I'm threatening, but you underestimate me, thinking that just because I look like him I'd fall into your arms... That worked for you before, didn't it? With the others, with all those you've deceived just to let you sleep in their bed for a couple of hours." A dry laugh escaped her lips as she finished her unfriendly words. There was no amusement in that laugh, just absurd, involuntary comedy when you find something ridiculous and pointless. "You didn't even bother pretending to be him, but of course, you're not interested in being him, you're only interested in my body, or am I wrong? Come on, tell me! Tell me if I'm wrong about the way you look at me. It's so disgusting, just like you, just like everyone else... Ha, that's why I ran away, but it seems that not even under the protection of a god will they stop seeing me that way, a prize, a trophy, something to take as a status symbol and Glory oh glory! Just so I can have the chance to tell all of Olympus how you slept with your brother's wife, that goddess all the gods yearn for in their perverse fantasies... Disgusting, just like you, just like everyone else! "All those who look at me with those eyes should tear them out and swallow them. Perhaps if you saw your own entrails, you would feel the same desire you feel when you look at me," the goddess mocked, her smile not reaching her eyes, only words, for she hadn't moved from her position. She hadn't had to do anything but speak, revealing thoughts that would be forbidden to anyone else. Even so, the goddess's eyes closed tightly, her brows furrowing, her lips pressed into a thin line, embracing her own body as pain invaded her being in an agonizing way. The sound of footsteps quickly became present, covering a large space in a few movements. The metallic clang broke the tense atmosphere, imposing itself before the goddess, marking a distance between the imposter and her—a living, enraged wall, shattering that unbreakable facade of indifference with raw anger toward her brother. She was capable of threatening him with her trident, the pointed weapon too close to her brother's neck. "Don't you dare...Get near her! Zeus, you damned, insatiable madman, I've discovered you've laid a filthy hand on her! I swear I'll—" The tyrant of the seas' words were cut short by a tug on his free hand, but his gaze faltered for a moment before he looked again at the Goddess. His pupils trembled when he saw the pallor and fear in the goddess's eyes. "Poseidon! Stop!...I need... Call Apollo... I'm... bleeding." Her words trailed off, fear gripping her as she stared at her blood-stained hands. The crimson liquid soaked her fine robes, staining her legs and the ground. Blood, hot and crimson, with a metallic scent that marred the beautiful garden she had fought so hard to maintain and care for. Blood that terrified her and simultaneously made her want to cry with fear, while a single word echoed like a mantra in her mind.
The goddess's condition was very delicate and serious, and although her life and the baby's were not in direct danger, excessive stress and mandatory rest were advised. These were Asclepius's words. Dark hours of waiting and anxiety followed before Poseidon was finally allowed to examine his wife and her condition. No one will ever admit it, but if you You were getting too close to the door; I could hear the goddess's soft sobs, filled with guilt and self-reproach, and Poseidon's gentle comforting words to his weeping wife, trying to soothe her guilt over her state.
"It's my fault! I should have walked away! I shouldn't have gotten angry! I was supposed to be calm! I damaged the garden! I endangered the baby! I'm useless, a useless goddess! I should be alone, alone, alone!" The goddess sobbed, clinging to the god's chest as tears streamed down her cheeks, flushed from crying. Her back trembled as Poseidon gently ran his hands over her, tracing soft patterns on her back as he held her close, resting his chin on her head, letting her cry as much as she needed. "It's not your fault. Did you cause this mess on purpose? Did you want the baby to be in danger?" No, you didn't do it, you haven't done anything wrong, you handled the situation perfectly, my Queen, don't cry, because you haven't been responsible for what your body does, it's me who should apologize, because I wasn't there to protect you, but I won't leave you alone. "Not again, you're going to be alright, so don't cry anymore, I hate your crying." The god's words were sweet and gentle, calming murmurs as he sought to soothe his restless wife, while guilt gnawed at him from within. Zeus, seeing the disrespectful actions of humans, their lack of faith, and their neglect of the gods and their temples, and witnessing how arrogant and overbearing humans had become, had convinced the gods to annihilate humanity. But it was a Valkyrie who decided that destroying humanity was too much and that it didn't deserve it. Thus, a sentence was passed: an event on a divine scale would be held, a tournament of power where twelve representatives of the gods and twelve representatives of humans would fight to the death. This decision was made while the goddess Atria was bedridden and unable to intervene, for the gods knew she would not allow this to happen. So, when she found out, that's when the tournament began, and not just because it was a tournament. Unjust, deadly, and involving all the pantheons, if not because her husband, Poseidon, was involved, being forced to represent the gods in the third round.
"You'll die if you go! Is that what you want? To die and leave me to raise our baby alone? You said you wouldn't leave me alone, so why are you doing this now? Why?!" The goddess's screams echoed throughout Olympus. Had her husband not physically restrained her, she would have struck him. "I know what I told you, and I plan to keep my word. I won't die, I won't leave you alone. You just have to trust me. That's all I ask. I swear I'll return," the god said with conviction, wiping the tears from the goddess's cheeks and kissing her, not only to silence her but also to soothe her heart.
The tournament had begun, the humans were winning, and the goddess Atria could only watch helplessly out the window, distracted from the carnage outside by the tug on her hair from a soft, chubby hand. "Shh, shh, Solstice, calm down, you're very restless today, my beautiful child. Is it because Daddy's outside?" the goddess teased gently. Although her labor had been induced by constant stress and anxiety, causing her much pain and trouble, a little girl had been born first thing in the morning, announcing her arrival with a strong, healthy cry.
Those small, soft, cloudy, and confused blue eyes gazed at her mother with bright curiosity. Her hair, a soft, beautiful down of a sweet yellow, seemed to whisper, "There, there, you're just like your father, restless when you don't get what you want. Ha, you made me suffer so much, my beautiful child, and you look just like him," the goddess cooed, gently rocking her arms to distract the baby. The sounds of the fight were distant noise compared to the lively, childlike laughter the sweet girl let out as she tugged at her mother's hair.
However, the sound of the bell signaling the end of the fight made the Goddess abruptly lift her head. She peered out the window from where she had been watching the fight. There was blood in the arena, but she saw no one, which made her uneasy. And as if the baby sensed her fear, she began to cry in her arms. "Oh no, no no no, shh, little one, there, there, Mommy's sorry for scaring you," the Goddess spoke tremulously, trying to calm the baby. She sat on the bed to relax and let her body rest while she arranged the blankets surrounding the baby in her arms, until a sound made her and the baby relax almost instantly.
A soft smile appeared on her lips as the baby cooed gently, with a troubled expression and cheeks stained with tears. She could be just like her father, but as expressive as her mother, which was such a rare and confusing combination, like the two gods who had conceived her. "You're back," were the words the goddess spoke to him, looking at him with joy and relief in her eyes.
"I made you a promise, have I ever broken it?" the God replied, somewhat wounded from the battle, but in a gentle and calm manner that didn't befit the tyrant of the seas they so feared. "Very well, then, don't leave again," the goddess replied, approaching him and placing her hand on his cheek, wiping the blood from a small cut. "Never," the god responded, tilting his face toward hers.
And so, with the shouts and calls of humans and warriors in the background, and the soft whimpers of the baby demanding attention, their lips met, their rings gleaming together, letting the whole world fade away around them.
It was just the three of them, two confused and strange gods, and a baby who would never know what it was to be alone, for her life would be surrounded by love—confusing, real, and genuine.
