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Chapter Text

 

 

 

The sight overwhelms her, her heart aches, and tears well up in her eyelashes. No one would have imagined seeing a Titan as majestic as Rhea in such a state. Her heart broken, doubt gnawing at her senses, and sobs escaping her chapped lips as she wanders through a beautiful green meadow in the midst of childbirth.

She knows perfectly well that she brought this on herself, for if she hadn't resisted Cronus, her husband, who demanded that she end her son's life as soon as he was born, she might well be on Olympus, savoring the finest wines with her husband and brothers. Enjoying herself like a goddess.

But a part of her, something deep within, screamed at her that she shouldn't allow it, that, no matter what happened, she must do the impossible to save her firstborn in her womb. Perhaps it was a mother's love that drove her to commit such madness; How to escape Olympus to give birth in mortal lands, or perhaps she was simply going crazy, mired in the madness of having a husband like Cronus, filled with a paranoia that was beginning to devour her own thoughts.

In every sense, right now, all she longed for was to lie down in that green meadow, feel the damp grass against her skin, and rest for a few minutes so she could continue searching for help. With effort, she would find a nymph kind enough to assist a wandering goddess like herself in her birth.

"Ohhh, labor, it's true..." She had completely forgotten about it a few minutes ago. Her thoughts were swirling around in her mind so much that for a second they clouded the pain of the contractures and her body's need to expel the baby in her womb. "Ugh..." She inevitably lets out a grunt, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the pain before shifting to get more comfortable.

Apparently, it must be here or now. If she waits any longer to find help, the baby will surely die, or in the most severe cases, she herself will. So she focuses all her effort on labor, closes her eyes, murmurs something unacceptable to herself, and a scream of agony is torn from her throat.

It hurts, she feels it tearing at her, and it's a torturous sensation.

But that's no reason for her to give up easily. She takes a deep breath and then exhales with a torturous ease. Her lungs tremble, demanding air, but when she tries to force them in, an invisible gust leaves her breathless. That's when she tries to repeat what she did. She's the goddess of fertility and childbirth, she must know what she's doing, so she confidently inhales and exhales with caution, coughing from time to time from the effort that at the same time openly blurred her vision.

That's when she tried to repeat what she'd done. She's the goddess of fertility and childbirth, and she must know what she's doing, so she inhales and exhales with confidence and caution, coughing occasionally from the exertion that, at the same time, blurred her vision.

Rhea feels this is the end; sweat runs warmly down her forehead, and everything blurs, threatening to soon go black. Unconsciously, she goes into a crisis. Her baby had to be born, she had to end the reign of her husband Kronos. If her firstborn didn't make it, then who would? The pressure on her shoulders had been too much since she learned of Uranus's prophecy, so she had fled Olympus days before giving birth. She mingled with the nymphs, played music with satyrs to calm their lust for the nymphs, and spoke with the sirens in search of someone to care for her baby girl when she had to return to Olympus.

And now that she was in the middle of labor, she refused to let all her efforts be in vain, so she gathered her courage and, clutching the fabric of her clothes, let out another scream, this time more heartbreaking.

This time, her gaze not only clouded, but darkened for a moment, warning her that she was reaching her limit. However, she ignored it and tried again, leaving her on the verge of unconsciousness.

And yet, she refused to give up. She clutched her chiton tightly and decided to push herself harder this time. However, a soft melody completely distracted her. It was the melody of a flute, followed by footsteps that sounded like a goat's hooves against the damp grass around her.

They were small, soft, playful jumps as the flute's melody lulled her ears like a siren's song, lulling her into unconsciousness with gentle caresses represented by the sweet melody before a soft voice dramatically complemented it.

Rhea let herself be carried away. If she were a deity, I wish I could forgive her for being so foolish as to think that escaping Olympus would be the way to avoid Urano prophecy. And if she did turn out to be a nymph, oh my God! May she sing to her for all eternity, never to wake up again and thus escape her paranoid husband.

 

"I have you." Was the last thing she heard from that sweet voice before everything went black.

 

The sound of the flute was the only sound that kept her company in her overwhelming sleep.

Chapter Text

(The Wandering Deity)

Buzzing

That was all she could hear as she slept in an unfamiliar bed. She didn't know how or why the man had brought her there, but she knew she was grateful. Without his help during childbirth, she wouldn't be alive now. In fact, she would have easily died during labor. Midway through the birth, the baby, being a deity associated with fire, emitted flames from its body, burning the man who had assisted her.

It was quite amusing, actually. Watching the man recoil in astonishment at the fire emanating from the baby was truly a sight to behold, beautiful, in fact, because despite being injured, he continued to help her after the birth. Of course, there was one thing she didn't quite like: the man never revealed his face. During the birth, he wore a kind of white cloth mask covering his face, as well as a dark blue cloak covering his body and almost his entire head, to prevent the deity's essence from staining him and to prevent the goddess from seeing his face during the brief moments of consciousness she had during labor. So, one could understand, to some extent, the goddess's inner discontent.

At that moment, she only heard the man's soft, familiar buzzing, urging her to continue sleeping, even though she was fully aware that the goddess could sense everything happening in the room.

Soon, she felt the man's presence fade, followed by those goat-like bleating sounds that had become so familiar to her during her days of unconsciousness. He always seemed to bleat when he was happy about something, and at that moment, he seemed happy about something, or someone.

Oh my good! She heard the man's melodious voice humming cheerfully, followed by a baby's laughter. Rhea recognized it immediately; he was playing with little Hestia. And inevitably, she couldn't help but smile fondly, imagining what the man would look like holding his little daughter.

— Oh, little one, I'm glad you're laughing instead of burning my arms like you do when you cry!

Rhea chuckled at the man's innocent joke. If he turned out to be a nymph, she would consider taking him to Olympus as a servant; having a nymph man among her servants would be truly exotic! She had never seen one like him before.

A mischievous giggle pulled her from her thoughts, making her open her eyes and see the man in the blue cloak holding the baby in his arms. Rhea sensed the malice in her eldest daughter's laughter. She knew what her daughter planned to do, but it was too late to warn her.

The moment the man looked at her, still holding the baby, and heard Rhea murmur a vague warning, little Hestia burst into flames. A man's cry escaped the spirit as his hands touched the blazing fire of Hestia's hearth.

"HESTIA!"

Rhea put her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Little Hestia, however, laughed sweetly and mischievously.

She knew what she had done.

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The man cursed silently as he waved his hand restlessly. His forearms were bandaged, and his hands were smeared with a sacred ointment that soothed burns.

—...Foolish beggar— he muttered to himself before shuffling back on his haunches and settling into a rocking chair near a table to watch the mother and daughter. They were both laughing with a certain complicity, which made him huff silently.

The man observed the familiar scene for a few more seconds before picking up his flute and, with a sigh, began to play. It was a soft melody; the notes were perfect in every musical maneuver, which, combined with his subtle humming, made it sound exquisite.

Little Hestia stopped laughing to listen, and Rhea watched, captivated, as the man played the flute.

—Young spirit, tell me with whom I have the honor.—Rhea hummed respectfully. The unknown man had helped her without expecting anything in return, even knowing she was a goddess, and that had been enough to win a place in her heart.

However, her question seemed to put the stranger on guard. He cleared his throat nervously, trying to decide if it was appropriate to tell her his name. The woman before him was a deity, and... well...

—Outis .. — he replied curtly, setting the flute he had been playing silently moments before on the counter beside him, and a heavy silence fell. Unconsciously, he adjusted his blue cloak, trying to cover his face better.

Rhea's sweet face seemed to darken.

—Your true name, little spirit— the goddess stated with a somber voice, easily seeing through his deception and suspicious behavior. So, seeing that he had been discovered, the spirit relented.

—...It's Odysseus — the now forest spirit named Odysseus replied in a monotonous voice as he cautiously shuffled back in his seat, sensing the hostile atmosphere that had formed. An atmosphere that vanished the moment Rhea smiled radiantly, followed by Hestia's giggles, breaking the hostile atmosphere.

— Oh!... Odysseus, eh? What a lovely name for a nymph! —

The Titan praised him, but all he received in response was an uncomfortable groan from the nymph's tightly pursed lips, who silently affirmed something like: "I am not a nymph."

Her denial disconcerted Rhea. She had believed all this time that she was a nymph, and now it turned out she wasn't. What a twist of fate, catching her off guard!

— Oh, I see, Odysseus. What are you then, if not a nymph? A fallen deity? A siren? A redeemed satyr?— Rhea asked, trying to recall any previous mention of the name Odysseus. Meanwhile, Odysseus seemed to sigh with some exasperation as he hesitantly reached for the edges of the cloak covering his face and pulled it back with an elegant movement, revealing his face.

Rhea froze upon seeing his face, her own pupils widening, unable to look away.

—Uh... no, I am not a nymph, nor a fallen deity, nor a siren, nor a satyr. I am a faun, a spirit of the forest. Although I am always mistaken for a common satyr...— Odysseus said in a neutral tone that seemed to shift slightly when he made the comment about being mistaken for a satyr, who, in his eyes, were "common."

Rhea, for her part, did not respond for a few seconds, until she could react, when the small child in her arms began to cry, demanding her mother's attention and pulling her back to reality.

—So you are a faun. A spirit who supports travelers and cares for children lost in the forest— Rhea murmured, clearly interested in the care of lost mortal children in the forest. At that sign of interest, Odysseus's furry ears perked up; they were the adorable white ears of a wild goat.

— You could say that — the spirit replied bluntly. Beneath its tunic, its goat's tail moved nervously, a sign of its unease at the goddess's sudden interest.

Rea chuckled at its cautiousness, comparing it to a timid cat wary of human contact. However, this didn't stop Odysseus from beginning to question her.

—I've answered your questions, now it's your turn to answer mine— Odysseus declared. He knew she was a goddess, hence his caution. But if he knew she was a Titan, and, on top of that, Cronus's wife, this young man would surely regret having treated her with such disrespect. But then again, she would forgive her little nymph for that oversight.

Rea nodded at Odysseus's words, agreeing to answer his questions. He didn't hesitate to ask his first one.

— Who are you? Why did you seem to be running away from someone while you were giving birth? — The spirit was direct with its two initial questions; its furrowed brow made it clear that it would distrust her answer if it didn't make sense to the young man.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Rhea let out a huff. 

with resignation, followed by a sad laugh that, in a matter of seconds, transformed into a thoughtful whisper. Perhaps she was weighing her options.

Which, to be honest, weren't many given the situation she was in.

— I am a goddess who fled Olympus in search of a safe place to give birth to my firstborn — the goddess began, looking around the room while caressing the baby in her arms, who seemed calmer than moments before.

Odysseus raised an eyebrow, confused.

— From what were you fleeing? — the spirit asked, his nervous fingers clutching the blue cloak around his legs.

Rhea hesitated for a few seconds.

— I was fleeing from my husband —she exclaimed finally with unwavering serenity, suppressing any hint of fear that might leak into her strangely neutral voice.

Something in Odysseus' mind didn't quite add up.

— Fleeing from your husband, eh? — murmured the satyr, sighing and rocking in his chair. Unconsciously, his hand had reached for the flute he had left on the table, and he examined it thoughtfully.

Rhea leaned forward, tears in her eyes, her hands wrapping protectively around the baby. An expression of pain etched itself on her face.

From the shadows, he could sense her slender fingers weaving the threads of fate with precision.

— My husband threatened to kill my little daughter... all because of a stupid prophecy foretold by my father, Uranus — and her voice broke; pain and fear welled up from her throat, revealing everything she had kept hidden deep within her heart.

Odysseus frowned and shifted. His fingers, which had been playing with the flute, stopped, gripping his cloak. — A prophecy? — he asked in a barely audible voice, and the goddess, wiping her tears, replied with a voice laden with anguish. “There is a prophecy…” whispered Rhea, lowering her gaze, ashamed of what she was about to say, yet at the same time staring intently into the bright amber eyes of her descendant. A smile played on her lips as a thread slowly slid down the man’s goat-like leg.

One day, one of my husband’s sons will overthrow him. A cup, a gift from the one who most influenced the life of the one destined to overthrow him, will be the perfect weapon to end the era of the Titans.

The threads of the loom tightened, one tied to the man’s leg, another descending towards him. Others emerged from the ceiling, all a deep red, but invisible to the man.

The ichor will cover Olympus, symbolizing more than the end of a cycle of destruction and rebirth. Something greater than any immortal could have imagined.

Rhea’s words were carried on the cool morning breeze. Odysseus opened his eyes wide, unable to speak as a red thread tightened around his throat.

Alas, alas, alas! If the chosen one is guided well, he will bring peace among the gods. Otherwise, only chaos will prevail.

The deity recited, eyes closed, imagining those invisible threads that would bind her prey, immobilizing it and revealing its vulnerability. This would allow her to manipulate, punish, and control it once her spell was complete.

— My children are in danger! — the woman exclaimed, anguish in her voice. Immediately, the goat’s right hand was bound with that invisible thread. On the other side, the last thread approached. Threatening, relentless.

— Only someone can save them ... — she whispered, clinging to the baby’s body more tightly. She looked up, and her emerald green eyes met the piercing gaze of the young spirit of the earth.

The air grew thick around them; His mind, disturbed by the whispering voices that tormented him, finally regained its composure when those whispers ceased, only to be replaced by a piercing shriek that only he seemed to hear.

"Young guardian spirit."

He felt the deity calling to him, but he couldn't respond.

"Could you be the one to protect my descendants from their insane father?"

And the words caught in his throat, demanding an answer that he wasn't sure he could give.

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He gazed at his reflection in the crystal-clear water of the makeshift watering trough beside his cabin, sighed once, twice, three times before straightening up and filling the bucket he held. He stepped back once the wooden bucket was full.

“In return, I could grant you immortality.” Rhea’s offer echoed in his mind like an unwelcome memory. Bitter if he thought about it too much.

He shook his head as he turned, the water bucket wobbling in his hands. It felt heavier than he remembered.

“Do it for this wandering deity.” Once again, he mentally repeated the words Rhea had used to try to persuade him to accept. However, if this goddess thought she could buy him with immortality, he could simply turn around and leave in silence. He didn't want his peace disturbed by such things.

So he continued walking calmly towards the entrance of the modest cabin. He was supposed to gather some fruit to offer the goddess, but for now, he only had some water to offer her for purification. Perhaps later, he would have time to find some fruit to help the deity recover more quickly.

With that in mind, he quickened his pace until he reached the entrance of the cabin, which he opened with his left hand, taking the opportunity to prevent the bucket from falling and thus saving some time. As soon as the cabin door opened, he glimpsed the short hallway that greeted him.

A slight smile appeared on his face as he walked down the hallway.

He passed several doors leading to different rooms, rooms that didn't interest him at the moment. Finally, he reached the room where the goddess and her descendant were staying, knocked on the door to announce his arrival, and waited patiently for a response from the other side before entering.

A few seconds passed before he heard the goddess's voice, calmly saying "come in," which he interpreted as an invitation to open the door and enter the room serenely. "I brought you the water you asked for, goddess Rhea," the forest creature informed her with its melodious voice, entering the room and placing a soft cloth next to the bed where the goddess was resting, along with a bucket of water so she could wash more comfortably.

"Thank you."

That was the only expression from the goddess, somber but dangerous. Odysseus hummed nervously, moving closer to the window so the sunbeams could bathe his face. Curiously, he didn't look at the goddess.

Next to the window, in a makeshift cradle made with a basket and soft white cloth, lay little Hestia. She seemed to be smiling sweetly as Odysseus looked at her with tenderness, then he bent down to her level and reached out to caress one of her chubby cheeks. At first, he thought the child would reject him because he wasn't her mother, but to his surprise, she gladly accepted, rubbing her cheek against his finger in an innocent gesture that, unintentionally, touched his lonely heart.

—Hestia likes you...—This time, Rhea's voice didn't sound so tired as she watched the spirit play with Hestia's hand.

Odysseus laughed.

— I have a special charm with children — the man joked as he continued playing with Hestia, who, this time, took his hand, nibbling on his fingers and drooling over them, a gesture that tickled him, since the young goddess didn't have any teeth.

Rhea replied with a bitter laugh; that joke only convinced her that he was the right person to take care of her children.

— I see.

Odysseus sensed the bitterness in her voice, which reminded him of his conversation with the goddess hours earlier, causing a new bitter taste in his mouth. He fiddled with his fingers in front of the little goddess, unwilling to say anything about Rhea's obvious displeasure. Rhea sensed his hesitation, but at the same time, she felt tempted to pressure him for an answer to her proposal.

—Have you considered what I proposed to you? — she asked calmly, sitting down with some difficulty on the soft wool bed, her back against the wooden headboard. Everything was carved with exquisite precision.

Odysseus felt his heart sink at the mention of that conversation. He knew the goddess couldn't wait forever for his answer, but he wanted to think it over carefully before accepting or rejecting it. He felt the threads tightening around his arms again, anchoring his feet to the floor, and constricting his throat, as if trying to force him to give an answer he didn't yet have.

Rhea remained silent, patiently waiting for a reply, but when none came, she tightened the threads slightly.

— Odysseus? — Rhea called. The pressure on the man increased. His breathing became labored, and his eyes focused on the baby's face below him, his hand still suspended in the air above the young deity. He felt unable to move it.

The threads seemed to tighten.

The sweat trickling down his forehead felt icy,  he felt his lungs constrict, as if he had forgotten to breathe.

Rhea's growing anger only worsened the situation, causing him to hyperventilate involuntarily from sheer nervousness. "I... I..." he stammered, saliva dribbling uncontrollably from his lips.

Rhea nodded, relaxing her posture and slowly reclining on the mattress. A sigh of exasperation escaped her thin lips.

"It doesn't matter, you don't have to answer now. You can think about it and give me an answer tomorrow..."

And all the tension vanished. Odysseus could breathe normally again, his muscles relaxed, and he finally managed to remove his hand from the little goddess's.

Everything seemed calmer now.

...

Calmer...

Chapter Text

(The indecisive goat)

For a simple nature spirit, living alongside a deity was anything but comfortable, and Odysseus knew this very well. Don't get me wrong, it was undoubtedly a great honor to have a goddess living in the same house as him, but he also had to acknowledge that, given Rhea's attitude towards him, it could sometimes be quite uncomfortable. Odysseus found her manipulative tactics—pressuring him to give her the answers she wanted, and then smiling at him as if nothing had happened—extremely unsettling, due to the goddess's dual personality. However, he knew he couldn't avoid her; to do so would risk incurring her wrath, and the last time he had angered a Titan had not ended well. So he was condemned to endure the goddess's volatile temperament for the next few days, until she recovered from childbirth or decided to leave on her own.

The only positive thing about all of this was the little goddess, Rhea's daughter. She was like a playful, affectionate orange kitten, and Odysseus had completely fallen in love with her. He practically spent all day playing with her and taking care of her. It should be noted that she was growing at an incredible rate; she would probably be the size of a one-year-old child by the time she was four months old. Which, in itself, was somewhat exciting for him.

Little Hestia would grow up safe under his care if Odysseus accepted Rhea's proposal, which, in a way, no longer seemed such a bad idea to him. In fact, he had begun to view it favorably; something within him, an inexplicable yet persistent feeling, prompted him to be kind to the child, even though it wasn't his natural inclination. This warm, gentle feeling compelled him to act protectively towards her. He could barely remember when this change in his behavior had begun; he only knew that it had occurred from the very first time he spoke with Rhea after the baby's birth, during that brief moment of clarity.

An inexplicable force compelled him to be kind to the goddess Rhea. The fact that he opened his heart to her and obeyed her commands with absolute submission seemed utterly strange to him. He felt as if he wasn't himself. He knew that his nature was to be a benevolent spirit, but this level of benevolence was greater than anything he had ever shown towards any other spirit, as he only remembered being that hospitable towards mortals who got lost in his forest. Now, from that perspective, he could see Rea as a lost mortal who needed help. Perhaps that was why he had been so patient with her... he wasn't entirely sure, but...

— WAAA!

Immediately, he snapped back to reality.

The little goddess's plaintive cries reached his ears, a sharp reminder that he couldn't simply lose himself in his thoughts with her or her mother nearby. And curiously, her mother seemed distressed by her child's crying, vainly trying to soothe her and make her stop. It should be noted, however, that this approach did not work at all. In fact, it made things worse.

At that, Odysseus impatiently rubbed his nose. "How did things ever get to this point?" he thought. "Can't I even leave the house without some minor deity weeping inconsolably over my absence? What nonsense!" he muttered to himself. "There were better times," he added inwardly.

—I'm so sorry, little spirit...— I heard Rhea apologize for her baby's behavior from a few steps away, to which Odysseus simply gave her a tired smile and then approached the goddess to offer his help.

It would be very rude to simply turn around and ignore the goddess's efforts to calm the child. The idea of ​​turning around and leaving was very tempting... but what was the point in dwelling on it?  So, taking a deep breath and making a conscious effort to control his impatience, he approached the goddess with a hesitant step. She looked at him as if he were the only solution to her distress, and then she offered the child to him, inviting him to take her in his arms.

That is exactly what he did; he took her in his arms and rocked her gently, his comforting movements soothing the baby's cries. But just as he was about to return the baby to her mother so he could go in search of fruit, she immediately woke up and began to cry again, much to Odysseus's dismay; he found himself caught in an endless cycle of calming and then more crying. 

Every time Odysseus soothed Hestia with a gentle lullaby and then tried to return her to Rhea's arms, the little goddess of the hearth would immediately become agitated, weeping inconsolably at being separated from the kind man, in her eyes. It was clear that Odysseus was beginning to tire of the little goddess's excessive attachment, and Rhea knew this very well; therefore, her own distress was even greater, since, as queen of Olympus, she could neither comfort the little deity nor stop her from crying when she was separated from the man to whom she was so strongly attached. It was a great blow to her pride.

Odysseus's attempts to leave were constantly thwarted by the little goddess's persistent clinging to him.

—Perhaps you should take her with you— he heard Rea's voice suggesting from a few steps away, which made him consider the idea as he watched the girl looking at him with her bright, lively eyes, like a bonfire in the middle of the night.

She placed her hand on her chin in a thoughtful gesture, one, two, three... until she shook her head in disagreement with the Queen of Olympus' suggestion.

—The journey is long and dangerous for a baby like Hestia; it's best that she stay here.— The spirit explained calmly, outlining the pros and cons of taking Hestia along. Rhea listened attentively before interrupting.

—If I create a protective amulet for her, would you agree to take her with you?— the goddess asked, gesturing alternately to the baby and the man with one hand, while with the other she traced circles in the air as if reciting a spell. —Think about it. It's better than staying here, weeping because you can't find me.— Rea concluded, finishing her spell, and a golden bracelet appeared in the palm of her hand.

Odysseus considered it, looked thoughtfully at the ceiling, before his attention shifted to the bracelet the goddess was offering him.

—What exactly is this?— murmured Odysseus, taking the bracelet in one hand and holding the goddess's descendant firmly in front of him with the other. Rhea smiled at him expectantly.

—It's a protective amulet—the immortal explained calmly, her radiant smile still on her face, which sent shivers down the spine of the lower-ranking spirit. She continued her explanation: —  Just attach it to your forearm, and it will protect you and anyone who comes into physical contact with you from being influenced by any spirit of a higher rank. 

Odysseus raised an eyebrow, looking interested.

—Does that mean that even if we enter the domain of a god less powerful than you, or one with the same power as you, this object—he pointed to the golden bracelet in his hand—will protect us from their influence?—Rea nodded in agreement to the man's question, after which her smile became less visible.

—I see...— remarked the faun, carefully examining the bracelet that now adorned his arm, along with the others he was also wearing, each one carrying its own story that he wished to forget.

Silence filled the room until he himself decided to break it.

—Then I suppose it won't hurt if Hestia goes outside with me— the goat exclaimed expectantly. Rea nodded calmly in response. She didn't seem to worry at all about anything that might happen to her baby; she possessed an unwavering confidence, typical of a goddess. This made Odysseus roll his eyes; that kind of confidence in Rea felt familiar, even nostalgic.

However, he was pulled out of his reverie when he felt hands gently pushing a piece of fabric against his chest. When he looked up to see who was doing it, he saw Rea with a shy smile, gently placing the white cloth against his chest as if inviting him to take it, which he did, frowning slightly out of confusion.

—This is...?— he murmured hesitantly, looking at the white cloth he was holding. In response, Rea laughed softly, then lay down rather awkwardly at the head of the bed, her laughter soon turning into a tired smile.

—You'll need something to hold Hestia if you plan on taking her with you—was all the goddess said, a faint smile playing on her lips, barely visible to the man who tilted his head, understanding the goddess's meaning. Odysseus quickly draped the white cloth across his chest, and before placing the little goddess in the makeshift cradle, he secured the cloth with a clasp, wanting to make sure she wouldn't fall once he picked her up.

Once the cloth was securely tied around her chest, she approached the basket filled with blankets where the little girl lay, sobbing inconsolably, and gently lifted her, placing her carefully on the cloth against her own chest. Then she waited to observe her reaction. To Odysseus's surprise, the little goddess didn't protest; in fact, she smiled contentedly.

Odysseus blinked, and then burst into laughter.

His laughter was barely audible, but so melodious that both Rhea and Hestia enjoyed it until it ceased, giving way to a silence that, unlike many others they had shared, was comforting, like a sweet dream from which they didn't want to awaken, but from which, unfortunately, they were soon forced to awaken.

Returning to reality.

Rea watched as Odysseus picked up his usual dark blue cloak and, much to her dismay, used it to cover his face. She was particularly bothered that the spirit figure who had helped her was covering his face; that simple gesture made her feel uneasy. She felt that this goat-like figure was creating a barrier between them, an invisible wall that separated them and forced her to keep her distance. She didn't like his insistence on maintaining that distance at all. However, there was little she could do about it, so she calmly watched as Odysseus approached the door of the room, with Hestia nestled in the makeshift cloth cradle, resting against his chest. 

One can observe that, before opening the curtains that covered the entrance, he looks at her, seeking her approval, as if he were unsure whether she had changed her mind about letting him take Hestia with him. Seeing his hesitation, Rhea can't help but feel radiant with joy; her initial displeasure disappears completely, and with a loving smile, she confirms to him that she hasn't changed her mind: he can take his daughter with him. She knows that this is just part of the spell.

She also noticed that Odysseus gave her a nervous, uncomfortable look, and then he moved forward, pulling his hood up to cover his face. The last thing Rhea heard before Odysseus and Hestia disappeared from sight was Hestia's soft laughter as she played with the man's necklaces.

With the house now to herself, Rea's smile took on a different meaning, and she carefully got out of bed, leaving behind her act of a tired mother.

—I need to hurry— she said, then stretched to ease her aching muscles. She had a lot of work ahead of her.

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Odysseus gazed at the sky with indifference as he walked through the lush forest, his hooves occasionally crunching the grass beneath him, leaving tracks in his wake, but he paid little attention to it. He was more focused on observing the clear sky while cradling the baby deity against his chest, ensuring she wouldn't fall.

He had wrapped the cloth around his chest to form a kind of cradle. Yes, but frankly, he didn't trust it enough to leave the baby's safety entirely to that. As he continued walking, his eyes could make out various figures standing in the treetops, a sight that made him squint in confusion.

It had been so long since he had seen anyone else in his forest, though, with the exception of the goddess who resided in his cabin, he hadn't seen any other supernatural beings roaming his domain. He was almost certain that he was the only spirit who guarded this forest; after what had happened years ago, the other spirits had been consumed by the vegetation. The Arpies, Satyrs, and even the Nymphs had disappeared after that event.

It was no wonder that Odysseus, the only spirit who had lived in that forest for the past few decades, was taken aback to see another mythical creature besides himself. He narrowed his eyes, focusing his attention on the silhouettes that could be seen in the distance, atop the treetops.

From where he stood, he couldn't quite make out what kind of beast it was, but since the figures were above the trees, he could get a general idea of ​​what kind of beings they were.  Taking a deep breath, he focused even more intently on identifying them. He squinted, tilted his head, and even paused his walk for a moment to concentrate better, allowing him to glimpse what looked like...feathers?

No... no, no, no, no...

Odysseus repeated to himself, finally understanding who those strange figures were. Without hesitation, he set aside his curiosity and, with a worried expression, began to retreat with his characteristic little hops, but this time, his movements were filled with a nervousness he could barely control. He held his breath as he turned around with stiff movements, careful not to make any noise that might alert the creatures.

After all, the slightest sound could put the harpies on the hunt.

He retreated calmly, using the trees to hide from the keen eyesight of those beings; fortunately, the distance was in his favor. Once hidden among the bushes, he considered taking a different path. If he continued on his original route, he risked drawing the harpies' attention, and that was the last thing he wanted. While Rhea's bracelet protected him and Hestia from anyone's spells, that didn't mean they would escape physical harm.

The wisest course of action was to hide and backtrack to take another route to the fruit trees; it would be the safest option for him and the baby in his arm-.. ¿wait?

—Hestia?!—Odysseus exclaimed, his voice laced with worry, realizing the baby was no longer in his arms. Where on earth could she have gone? he thought to himself, unable to believe he had been so careless as to not notice the little one was gone.

Fearful thoughts immediately flooded his mind as he searched the area, unable to find the baby anywhere, as if she had vanished the moment he took his eyes off her. And oh, my god! Rhea would kill him if she found out he had lost her daughter right under her nose. He could already picture the goddess cursing him for losing her only child so far.

With that thought swirling in his mind, he slammed his head against the ground in despair. However, unknowingly, he had just narrowly avoided an attack that would have sliced ​​his head off if he hadn't slammed his head against the ground at that precise moment.

—But what?...—the words escaped his lips unconsciously as he looked up towards the sound of splintering wood. There he saw one of the three harpies that had been perched in the treetops moments earlier. He froze, watching her drool and snarl at him, likely cursing him in some kind of language the harpies used among themselves.

But since he wasn't a harpy, he didn't care much if she insulted him in her dialect. He only snapped out of his stupor when he felt small hands running along his back. "For heaven's sake..." he had begun to curse inwardly when he felt the hands grab the tunic that covered his body and face.

And there, with a toothless grin and a burst of unrestrained, gleeful laughter, was the one who had almost given him a heart attack: Hestia.

Odysseus looked at her as if he were seeing a ghost, but at the same time, he felt a great sense of relief mixed with worry swirling in his stomach. Of course, he didn't want to admit it out loud, since he was becoming too attached to the little girl.

However, he was pulled from his thoughts when he was forced to fall to the ground to dodge a swipe from the harpy. This time, seeing him dodge her attack again, she opened her mouth and screeched with all the force her powerful lungs could muster. Soon, Odysseus could see two other female figures standing above them.

—Damn it ...— He curses under his breath. Below him, between his chest and arms, little Hestia tilts her head to the side when she hears his curse. She tries to imitate him, but all that comes out are adorable babbling sounds that make Odysseus raise an eyebrow, amused. Although he can't laugh because another swipe at his head makes him quickly stumble backward, and at the same time, his cloak falls from his head, revealing his face.

The harpy that attacked him minutes before snorts, just like the first harpy he encountered, but unlike her, as soon as she sees his uncovered face, she seems to become both more docile and curious. The same happens with the other two that surround him from behind, walking in circles around him and Hestia in his arms.

Odysseus doesn't know how to react. Perhaps now is the perfect time to kick the nearest harpy and run away, but he feels unable to do so; an invisible force keeps him rooted to the spot. Instead, the harpies seem satisfied with having him immobile; they believe their spell on the goat they surround will last a long time, but they clearly haven't taken into account the bracelet Rhea gave him.

It shines intensely when he can feel his breath catch, and with a "click," followed by a blinding flash that dazzles the harpies, he is able to move. So he doesn't hesitate to turn around and run as fast as he can, making sure not to let go of the little girl, who, contrary to everything else, clearly seems to be enjoying being chased by the harpies, who recover from the blinding flash in a matter of minutes.

—Stupid, feathered beasts!— he shouts furiously, without stopping his run. His life depends on it, after all, and the harpies know this very well, sharing a series of amused cackles, enjoying hunting a prey like Odysseus. Internally, they wonder if that beautiful voice would sound even more beautiful when it's moaning and sobbing in pain.

Odysseus swallowed nervously as he looked at the faces of the three harpies pursuing him. « Not even the deity I have at home looks at me like that » . he thought to himself, alarmed, hurrying his pace as he vainly tried to pull his hood back over his head to cover his face.

Seeing this gesture, one of the harpies moved with incredible speed and, with a swift swipe of her claws, tore the flesh from the forest spirit's arm. And what he heard next was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard in decades. Beautiful sobs and whimpers unlike any he had ever heard before; they were so melodious that he felt the urge to tear open those beautiful, pink lips of his prey.

Odysseus, for his part, stumbled a bit trying to use his abilities and take advantage of the fact that the harpies were within his range of control. But he encountered the unpleasant reality that Rhea's bracelet completely disabled the abilities of whoever wore it. "I should have been more specific with Rhea," Odysseus reproached himself mentally before feeling another attack coming from behind, aimed at his lower back.

He turned around in an attempt to avoid it, but instead, all he saw was the harpy engulfed in flames falling to the ground, and behind her, the other two charging at him and Hestia.

Cold sweat ran down his back, and in an instinctive move, he clung to the small body of the goddess, wanting to protect her from the harpies' claws. He braced himself for the impact, an impact that was replaced by the sensation of cold water splashing on him and soaking his clothes, followed by the characteristic burning sensation of a fresh wound in his abdomen.

A groan of pain escaped his lips as he felt the stinging of the open wound against the coldness of the water surrounding him. Air escaped his lungs in bubbles that shot to the surface of the lake, and by the time he opened his eyes and was ready to swim to shore, he encountered the most cruel practical joke ever played on him.

A shark, face to face with him, in a lake where only small fish could live. Was this some kind of sick joke?! Seriously? By all the gods! ...Hadn't the harpies been enough?

Odysseus flailed about in the water, his goat legs thrashing wildly, trying to get as far away as possible from the sea monster, which, within minutes, had already lunged at him. Opening its mouth full of fangs to devour the creature that had filled the water with that delicious scent of blood.

Just when Odysseus resigned himself to being fish food, along with little Hestia, the bracelet on his forearm glowed again, this time more subtly. It took Odysseus by surprise when a column of water lifted him meters above the lake. He barely recovered from his shock when he saw one of the harpies swoop down on him, followed by the laughter of the little goddess who was enjoying watching her guardian nearly have a heart attack.

The harpy had launched herself at them with incredible speed, her claws ready to tear the soft skin of her prey, but what she hadn't counted on was another column of water rising beneath her, delivering a fatal blow that sent her splashing into the lake with the shark.  Luckily for Odysseus, who, soaked and listening to little Hestia's unrestrained laughter, noticed that, to his relief, the column of water that had lifted them above the lake was slowly descending to solid ground.

Once he felt they were close enough to land, Odysseus stood up on the water, swaying slightly from the strange sensation of being on the water, though it didn't last long before he jumped onto the shore of the lake. Finally feeling solid ground beneath his hooves, he smiled wryly at the feeling as he bent over to lie down on the green grass. An exhausted sigh escaped his throat, and then he rolled onto his back, allowing himself to relax.

He looked at the orange sky. "What a time we've spent running from those harpies," he murmured softly, glancing at little Hestia who was playing with her wet tunic. The little goddess was, surprisingly, dry compared to him, who was soaked and smelled like a wet goat. Ironical, if you asked him.

Little Hestia played with her water-soaked tunic, her little hands playing with the wet fabric until she noticed her mother Rhea's bracelet on the forearm of the spirit who accompanied her, which now became the focus of her attention. Curiously, she approached the bracelet on the satyr's arm and placed a hand on it, as if she thought something might happen by doing so.

Odysseus laughed.

"Oh, little one, you're still too inexperienced to do anything to your mother's bracelet..." Odysseus began, then swallowed his words when the bracelet burst into flames, burning his skin as it passed. The spirit groaned in pain and, with his other hand, grabbed the bracelet, trying to remove it from his arm, but the opposite happened. The bracelet tightened around his skin, and a minute later the fire went out, leaving the amulet glowing red.

—What did you do, Hestia? —he asked, his voice laced with pain as he looked at the amulet and tried to touch it, only to burn his hand in the attempt. The aforementioned woman laughed in response, and Odysseus sighed, tired, as he lay back down and relaxed once more on the green grass.

The next few minutes were peaceful. Odysseus calmly watched the sky, now tinged with orange hues, until he suddenly burst into laughter. A sweet, melodious laugh, overflowing with irony; Odysseus had finally processed all the events he had just experienced, and found them utterly hilarious. He had never laughed so hard.

Indeed, how could he not? From the near-heart attack he had when he thought he had lost Hestia, to the harpy they had roasted over an open fire, to the absurd shark in the lake—a creature he, who had lived there for centuries, had never even known existed—and the harpy that was eaten by that very shark. Everything, in its own way, was absurd and incredibly funny, now that he viewed it from this new perspective.

The harpies, the shark... Now he understood why the little girl had been laughing hysterically about everything, while he was having a mini-heart attack over each of these events. Now that he thought about it, it had been so long since he had laughed so much, since...

Since that time...

It was then that his laughter faded, replaced by a flood of memories from the past. Tears threatened to spill over, and for a moment he was oblivious to the figure standing behind him, its enormous wings poised as if to attack, and the small creature on his chest, who had suddenly stopped laughing.

Odysseus didn't notice. He was lost in the maelstrom of his thoughts, and it wasn't until, purely by instinct, his body rolled to one side that he managed to dodge the attack of the last remaining harpy. She hissed in warning, trying to intimidate him, but it was a pathetic attempt. For in the blink of an eye, a tree erupted from the ground beneath the harpy and sent her flying into the surrounding trees. Wait...

Trees?

Odysseus looked curiously at the tree that had emerged from the ground. Had the bracelet caused it to appear? He wondered to himself, but then immediately dismissed the idea. That couldn't be it; Rhea had said the bracelet would only react if someone tried to put them under its influence, and that couldn't be the case, since the harpy hadn't used any trick—he was certain of that. And if that wasn't it, then... who made the tree grow?

There weren't any other forest spirits besides him, and besides...

That's when he put two and two together: Hestia, the bracelet, and the fire emanating from it. Hestia had activated her powers of control over the bracelet! he exclaimed to himself, and once again, he burst into laughter so loudly that little Hestia couldn't help but join in.

"By the gods!"

It was just a fleeting thought, and the hearty laughter made his stomach ache. How was he going to explain this to Rhea?

↶  *ೃ  ✧  ˚ .  *ੈ ✩  ‧ ₊ ˚

— So, how was your day?

It was ok ..—

Silence.

— I see ..

The figure in the darkness murmured, and his companion that night replied with a soft whisper; he couldn't help but laugh at such a brief response.

That didn't prevent the uncomfortable silence from returning.

— Lady Selene looks beautiful today... Don't you think so, Odysseus?

The silence was broken. She tried to change the subject.

Lady Selene? ...—

I questioned the figure standing next to him, feeling perplexed.

In response, she laughed; she wasn't taking it seriously.

— Lady Selene, the moon.

The woman clarified her statement. The man cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed for not understanding her initially.

I see ..—

He replied curtly, and silence fell upon them once again, this time less tense, much to the relief of the taller figure. 

The smaller figure tilted its head to one side.

She rested her cheek on her hand in a thoughtful pose, humming softly as she glanced at the man beside her, admiring his silhouette in the moonlight. Externally, she appeared calm, but her mind was in turmoil:

How could her companion be unaware of the current gods?

Did he even know that Uranus had been overthrown? Or that she was the new Queen of Olympus?

Who, exactly, was this spirit standing beside her?

Hestia is growing up fast...—

Her companion interrupted her, pulling her out of her thoughts.

— It would grow faster under your protection, just imagine.

She couldn't help but subtly hint at her proposal; she hadn't received an answer yet, and that frustrated her. Although she was willing to wait, she couldn't wait forever.

...—

When she reminded him of her proposal, the spirit fell silent, nervousness creeping across his face, indecision etched on that beautiful face that had captivated her from the first moment.

"I need more time." She could almost hear it; the expression on his face said it all. That indecision... so beautiful, yet so frustrating...

She knew what he would say, but at the same time, she was curious to see if her suspicions were true. What if they weren't? What if she had only pressured him for... nothing? Was the answer what she feared most, or was it simply... the consequences of that decision?

She swallowed hard.

— So?

She pressed gently, not wanting to push him too hard.

 I accept.—

She felt her throat dry up with that simple answer. A strange feeling gripped her heart; she had never heard it beat so loudly.

— Thank you.

She said with a trembling voice, filled with a feeling she didn't quite understand. But without realizing it, she smiled.

The moon shone brightly, its light reflected in his eyes. In that moment, she didn't know what to feel.

Chapter Text

(Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth)

The days with Hestia soon turned into weeks, then months until, without realizing it, it had been 5 years since he had the little deity under his care. If he was honest, the first few weeks were difficult, Hestia never left his side in the slightest and with Rhea's departure to return to her husband, the goddess's attachment to him had grown to the point where they had to sleep together to avoid crying at night. It was exhausting in equal parts, being a full-time father and mother was not easy at all and even more so when he was used to the solitude that his forest gave him, suddenly having a baby clinging to his back 24/7 was overwhelming. 

From then on, he was forced to accept his new "role" as caretaker, which meant watching over the little girl who was growing as fast as a damned bamboo, being attentive to her needs, and of course, enduring the occasional uncomfortable visit from Rhea. To his growing annoyance, she had informed him that she was soon planning to bring him a new child.

And Oh for the sacred union of Uranus and Gaia!

He'd throw himself off a cliff if the next child Rhea brought to him turned out to be another baby. The stress that the little goddess, now 5 years old, caused him was enough to make him internally regret having agreed to take care of the gods, children of the deity who had a paranoid husband who wanted to devour his own children because of a stupid prophecy. He felt the urge to beat up whoever Rhea's husband was and force him to be a responsible father. Oh yes, it would be great, forcing a god to be a good father, an ideal dream. But it was sadly as unrealistic as it was unlikely he'd ever get out of his cursed forest.

Anyway, shaking his head, he snapped out of his thoughts. What good would daydreaming do him? Exactly, no good, so he focused on the present. It was early morning when he woke up with Hestia cuddled against his chest. He inevitably narrowed his eyes in a grimace of pain when he felt the burning of the deity's bites on his nipples. 

He should try to wean Hestia off her breast milk. He could no longer bear Hestia drinking from his breast; the goddess was beginning to develop teeth and would bite instead of suck, causing the man considerable pain.

Placing an arm over his eyes to block the sunlight that reached them, he let out a groan of frustration. He didn't want to get up at this hour; it was too early for his liking. The sun was barely rising, and the little girl beside him was snoring softly against his ear, preventing him from falling asleep. 

She spent the seconds going back and forth between continuing her day or sacrificing hours to rest a little more, she weighed her options for a considerable time until with a sigh she gathered all her willpower and got out of bed with a sigh of resignation, once sitting on the bed she carefully moved the girl on her chest to lay her between the pillows, the little one not without a mute, swimming too deep in the world of dreams to notice that her precious caregiver was no longer by her side. 

Odysseus got out of bed, stretched his arms, and a creaking sound emerged from the junction of his spine and hip, then gave way to relief in his limbs. A smile tugged at the corner of his lip as he began walking across the room toward the exit. His back was hunched, his eyes sleepy, and his hair a mess as he opened the door to his room and with a click, closed it behind him, followed by a careless yawn that escaped his throat.

He had planned to go to the kitchen, prepare something so that when Hestia woke up the first thing she would do was eat instead of biting her breast. It was definitely the best plan to retain a bit of his dignity, at least that morning. With that plan in mind, he headed to the kitchen, occasionally stumbling over the few wooden planks sticking out of the floor, but sooner rather than later he managed to reach his destination in one piece. 

"Shit..." Odysseus yawned once more, pausing at the entrance to the kitchen so he could calmly look around. His uneven eyes found a simple room: wooden chairs, a table, and a few simple pieces of furniture. What he found every morning after waking up—the usual, to be exact. 

He stumbled through the darkness surrounding him, his tiredness reflected in his lazy movements as he made his way from the entrance of the room to the table, thinking about sitting down and thinking about what he would cook because, although it wasn't necessary for a Deity or spirit like him and Hestia to eat, the latter had a certain fondness for food and if Odysseus didn't eat with her it usually ended in a tantrum. And sincerely, he didn't want to see his beautiful forest burning before his eyes, so he felt obliged to give in to her whims. 

He sighed, laughing as he remembered the time Hestia burned his home down with her divine powers. He was sure that if he weren't a spirit with control over plants, he'd already be living in a cave, whining about his burned-down cabin. He unconsciously laughed at the mental image of himself in a cave, whining about his cabin, taking it with irony. It was simply an exaggerated rambling of his mind; there was no reason to take it seriously. 

Toc Toc 

The sound of knocking on the door echoed through the halls, echoing before reaching his ears, pulling him from his hilarious ramblings and bringing him back to reality. Was that what he'd heard? He mentally questioned himself; it was early for someone to be venturing into a forest, let alone visitors. He hadn't had any visitors in years. So, calmly getting up from the chair he'd been sitting in a few minutes ago, he began to head toward the entrance. Curiosity was latent in his gaze as he cautiously advanced.

Initially, the thought that it was Rhea knocking on the door crossed his mind, but the closer he got to the entrance, the more he sensed the goddess's distinctive aura of divinity, which made him wary. Perhaps it was a stray spirit? Or perhaps just a sick joke from Rhea? 

He gulped, bringing his hand closer to the wooden door, testing whether it was feasible to use his abilities to immobilize whoever was behind the wood that separated them. Nerves were growing inside him, the wood creaked beneath his hooves. The house was old, he knew it very well, but for some strange reason the creaks that felt routine this time were unsettling. The aura he perceived was dangerous, he could notice it from miles away, it was such that he swore he could hear wails, warnings imperceptible to anyone but him. His goat ears could easily pick them up, which somehow made everything more creepy because they screamed at him not to open the door, to instead turn around, to flee now that he had the chance.

And yet, when her body screamed at her to run, to listen to the whispers, she didn't. She took a breath, gathered all the courage she could, and opened the door.

He had mentally prepared himself for what would happen, he was ready to attack if necessary or flee if the situation warranted it. 

The whispers stopped.

His breath caught.

She closed her eyes tightly, her pulse pounding in her ears, echoing in her head like drums at a ceremony. 

He opened his eyes.

And he saw it. 

His throat went dry, his eyes wide open. Cold sweat trickled down his throat, and he let out a shaky breath.

Small sobs filled the air. There was a little boy with black hair and pale skin. An aura emanated from him, whispers surrounded him, but even though his aura screamed otherwise, he was adorably harmless.

Odysseus gave a nervous, hesitant smile. 

But what the hell?

◈ ˚ . ༄ ೃ - ˚ . ❃ ↷ ˊ -

The little boy in front of him sobbed once more, his eyes full of tears and his cheeks an adorable shade of red, in his hands he held a clay pot which he clung to with all his strength, Odysseus had tried to take it away from him when he saw him with it but the little boy had remained firm in his decision to hold on to it. Leaving Odysseus with the only option to accept his decision, he didn't want to scare him but at the same time he needed answers.

Who was the boy? What was he doing here? And most importantly, what was he supposed to do now? He was preparing for the next child Rhea would bring, and now, taking on a child who couldn't handle it would only make the weight of the responsibilities on his shoulders heavier.

I couldn't, I knew it well.

"Well, little one, what's your name?" He finally broke the rapt silence, the aforementioned man's sobs stopping for a moment, hesitant to respond. 

The sobs mingled in the air like honey and sesame seeds, they crunched but at the same time the honey spilled on the seeds softened them, leaving behind a sweetness that sought to console them. In this case, the honey was the compassionate words of the man in front of the child.

—Had-.. —He finally awkwardly pronounced her name, after having hesitated so much about whether or not to say her name he had decided that if he wanted to not upset the person who was holding out his hand without asking for anything in return it was best to give in. So he opened his mouth, planning to say what was requested but was interrupted by a voice strange to both of them, coming from behind Odysseus, a high and shrill voice that imposed a certain respect worthy of a Goddess but with the slight childish nuance of a little girl. 

"His name is Hades," the voice said, taking on a more childlike tone as it moved closer to cling to Odysseus's hip, its slanted, cat-like eyes leering at the boy in front of them, who, in turn, flinched at the mere glance. The tears had stopped flowing from his black eyes, leaving a trail of tears down his flushed, gray cheeks.

Odysseus looked at Hestia, then at the child, seeking confirmation that it was indeed his name and not a delusion of the household deity. In understanding, Hades nodded, confirming that his name was indeed the one mentioned.

—Ooh.. I see. —He murmured in understanding, nodding slightly as he crossed his arms in a thoughtful gesture, his mind connecting the dots conveniently after a few seconds, «How did Hestia know that?» The question settled in his mind when he understood how strange the case was, causing him to immediately turn to face the little girl clinging to his hip.

"Wait, how did you know her name, Hestia?" a confused Odysseus asked, to which Hestia looked back at him with sparkles coming out of her eyes.

"Intuition, Ayo," the younger girl said with a touch of brilliance, raising her fist as if telling him he didn't need to know the details.

Odysseus narrowed his eyes, not believing him at all, evidently not buying the "intuition of deities" act and on the contrary, he was more suspicious.

"Speak," she demanded, balling her hand into a fist and smacking Hestia's head hard. The deity stepped back dramatically, stung by the blow her caretaker had given her.

"You're mean!" the goddess exclaimed, her eyes filled with exaggerated tears as she rubbed the bump caused by the blow with her hand. "Deities have a sixth sense, Ayo!" the girl exaggerated, her large golden eyes looking at him with that look of a scolded dog.

Odysseus raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. “Sixth sense?” he asked, confusion clear in his uneven gaze as he waited for the little girl to continue speaking.

"Your spiritual mind wouldn't understand!" He excused himself, then pouted, and Odysseus hummed to convey his displeasure.

"You're a complete case," I whisper, shaking my head to clear the confusion of Hestia's strange behavior, not wanting to delve too deeply into it.

— .. What will happen to you, then? .. —Hades's weak voice consulted, his black eyes shining with a note of hope mixed with the caution that anyone would show in front of a stranger. For her part, Hestia almost immediately looked at him, her gaze shrewd as she came out from behind Odysseus' cloak to approach the boy, sitting on the empty side of the bed next to him. 

— Oh, dear guest! — Exclaimed the redhead, in her bright eyes like two drops of amber sparkles formed, showing strange emotion for the presence of the infant, although her behavior only managed to confuse the black-haired man more, who distrusted her sudden kindness, although any thought was erased from his mind when he felt the girl's body too close causing his nerves to betray him and step back with a blush fixed on his gray skin, he did not realize that he was at the edge of the bed and when he jumped back twice on the bed, he got too close to the edge and fell back on the floor. 

Hestia's laughter was quick to appear, amused by his reserved behavior before extending her hand to help him up. Hades seemed to hesitate, feeling something more in that gesture. He looked at the hand extended in front of him and finally, he reluctantly accepted the help. He intertwined their hands and when he was about to lean forward and get up, the other's hand burst into flames. The effect was immediate; his own hand burned, followed by a girlish scream that came from his throat. 

Hestia threw herself back laughing out loud when she saw that he was falling right into her trap, she was obviously amused to see him being so naive, Odysseus, for his part, was quick to scold her as he approached the trembling Hades who was crying curled up on the ground, the little boy did not believe a girl of more or less his same age capable of playing such a cruel joke on him and because of that naive trust he had ended up with his hand engulfed in flames and a watery pain in it causing the tears that had only just calmed down a while ago.

"Are you okay, Hades?" The man replied, wrapping his hands around the infant's injured hand to place a soft kiss on the wounded palm. The deadly deity felt instant relief when his lips brushed against his palm. The burning sensation was replaced by a refreshing sensation that eased his pain, but what definitely made him forget everything was when the man raised his face to smile at him with compassion.

She looked him up and down, blinked a few times, and in a comical twist, a deep blush spread across her face, making Odysseus chuckle slightly, though Hestia wasn't amused. She got out of bed annoyed and approached the two figures on the floor, anger visible in her eyes, glowing like two fires.

"It's not fair!" the household deity pouted, clenching her hands into fists and frowning as if Hades's actions had personally offended her.

Odysseus turned his attention from Hades to look at Hestia, unconsciously raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

—What's wrong, Hestia? —I asked, bewildered by her outburst. I didn't remember Hestia acting that way. She was always a happy girl and attached to him. She never threw a tantrum unless it was for things that meant a lot to her, which made all this even stranger. Why did it bother Hestia so much?

"He's such a crybaby! Why are you comforting him?" Hestia exclaimed, annoyed. In her mind, Hestia didn't understand why Odysseus was comforting that child. He wasn't supposed to be there for more than a few days. She was going to stay there with him for the rest of her life, unlike Hades, who would abandon them at any moment. 

"Don't talk to Hades like that, Hestia," the spirit scolded, tightening her hands around Hades's shoulders as if trying to contain her emotions, not wanting them to get out of control.

"He will never appreciate you as much as I do!" I stated seriously. Odysseus was confused, not understanding what she meant.

Hestia continues.

"He'll leave when he has the chance. Don't waste your time trying to comfort someone who'll easily replace you!" He said, crossing his arms as he finished his accusation. His words sounded personal, as if he were afraid of something and wanted to reassert his position.

Odysseus tilted his head, surprised by her outburst, looked at Hades, then returned his gaze to Hestia, and in an anticlimactic gesture, he laughed. A soft, melodious laugh that filled the air.

With one arm he hugged Hades by the shoulder and with the other he extended his hand towards Hestia, inviting her to take his hand.

Hestia's angry expression instantly disappeared when her gaze caught the hand extended in her direction, inevitably unable to contain the embarrassment that stained her cheeks. She wanted to look indignant, to ignore the hand extended toward her, but her heart wouldn't allow it.

And just as she took the man's hand, her heart skipped a beat as he was carrying her with one arm, smiling brightly at her.

—Hestia, Hades is our guest, you must give him a vote of confidence —Odysseus began his motivational speech, however, as soon as Hestia saw where this was going, she frowned in disgust.

Odysseus didn't notice and continued, "He will live with us from now on, he is alone, we cannot abandon them."

As Odysseus continued his speech, Hestia's expression became increasingly twisted in growing disgust.

Hades watched without understanding anything at all.

"And I need you, Hestia, to take care of him like you're siblings!" Odysseus concluded, still not noticing the girl's expression of disgust, who was about to shout a resounding no when something stopped her. The spirit's smile, that damned persuasive smile, instantly softened his heart.

For his part, Odysseus was convinced that it was just children's jealousy, nothing more than that, a silly childish rivalry that would pass with time. It would be easy to deal with, right? Just encourage them to be more united, remove their differences from the table and that's it.

Easy.

Too easy ..

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Too easy to be true.

Damn the moment she thought it would be easy to make Hestia and Hades get along, the children were practically opposite poles, on one side Hestia, social, kind and intense like a burning fire while on the other side there was Hades, fearful, melancholic and distrustful in every way, the living image of a withered tree that distrusted even its shadow.

Well, trying to combine the two of them in the routine was like mixing water and oil, they practically repelled each other, leaving him in the middle of their silent arrangements.

Although today was different, silence reigned from the moment the sun rose. Neither Hades nor Hestia exchanged words; they simply stared at each other, their faces reflecting a tension that could erupt into another fight at any second. A fight that could be worse than any they'd had before.

And yet, when the world had given him so many warnings of what could happen, he decided to ignore it, took his navy blue cloak and convinced both infants to go outside to pick the ripe fruit from the trees at the other end of the forest where he lived.

Initially, both were reluctant; Hades had been easier to convince than Hestia herself, as she claimed to refuse to go if Hades went as well. The girl didn't bother to hide her displeasure with the presence of the deadly god, and if we talk about him, he didn't seem very happy about Hestia's rejection of him.

What had he done to deserve their contempt? He didn't know, and he was far from knowing. He wasn't there of his own free will. Nor did he know why he was there. For another reason, Odysseus had, in a way, forced both deities to accompany him. The journey at first was silent. It wasn't a comfortable or peaceful silence; it was the kind of silence that made it hard to breathe, that, without realizing it, foreshadowed something much bigger, something dangerous in itself.

Rather, it could be described as the calm before the storm. 

Any gesture, any word, anything could break the silence; the delicate calm that had surrounded them since sunrise was in danger of breaking. All it took was one false move and everything would fall apart.

The forest was silent, it was normal for the trees not to whisper in the wind, for the leaves not to sing as they danced in the warm summer breeze, but today it felt different, the whisper of the trees in the wind was dull, the crunch of the grass under their feet as they walked through the forest was strangely unsettling.

As if the trees themselves sensed the tension in the air, as if they wished not to interfere in the situation, not to get involved, because they knew full well that even the slightest gesture would unleash the storm they so desperately wanted to avoid. It was their silent wish, Odysseus could sense it; the trees were whispering to him to stop them, to keep them safe, or at least to stay away from both deities, warning him that this wouldn't turn out well.

However, he followed him ignored, walking alongside the two little gods while in the distance the fruit trees from which he used to pick fruit with Hestia began to be seen, he thought of implementing Hades to this little routine of his, it was a good idea in his eyes but Hestia herself seemed displeased by his intentions of implementing Hades to it.

I let Hestia go ahead since she knew the way by heart. It would also be helpful for her to go ahead so I could speak calmly with Hades. It should be noted that he didn't seem very happy to be there; the tears of annoyance were barely visible in his tear ducts.

So he decided to take the initiative when he saw Hestia disappear into the distance at great speed, at that moment the wind blew his hair and for the first time in his entire journey the leaves of the trees danced making a humming sound that encouraged him to speak.

"Are you comfortable with... all of this?" He broke the silence, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness that intensified with the rapt silence that once again reigned between them.

Hades didn't look up.

— .. yes .. —The minor responded in a weak whisper, a forced tranquility in his tone, although beneath that serenity one could notice a rage struggling to emerge, his hunched figure straightened up trying to appear strong but only demonstrating a pathetic attempt to not show that weakness that he wanted to hide with all his being.

Odysseus didn't dare look at him, feeling his own shame fill his cheeks while guilt filled his heart. It was his fault Hestia treated Hades like that; he had been too soft on her, he repeated over and over in his mind. If things were this way, it was because he didn't know how to raise Hestia. He knew it, and that statement made guilt swirl in his stomach.

"I'm sorry for Hestia's behavior," he said, his gaze lowered as he walked forward, his pace never ceasing even as he became lost in his own guilt and remorse. Hades didn't respond, just walked forward, moving forward even though he was lost in his own thoughts.

Odysseus frowned, annoyed with himself. Perhaps it had been a mistake to agree to take care of Rhea's children. It would have been better to reject her, wouldn't it? "Perhaps it would have been for the best..." He was convinced. It would have been for the best. He had never been the one. Thinking that there would finally be something good in his life for him was just a silly dream, an illusion. He was never destined to be happy.

He never... he could never be like that. Ever since he was cursed, he'd always been like that. The sun, the trees, the wet earth, the animals, they'd all only had him for so many years. Always alone, it had to be like that. He'd been foolish to think that Rea's proposal would put an end to the whispers of the trees, the animals wandering around, the lurking loneliness.

—I-I... I'm sorry... —His voice came out without thinking, his words expressing the deepest part of his being, an exhausted tone, a broken tone. The image of Hestia's shining eyes came to his mind, that warmth of that small body against his hands, that time when he held her for the first time in his arms, all the sensations he experienced back then came back with such force... that warmth, that fascination, that affection...

—If only I... if only I hadn't let myself get carried away... —He continued, tears crystallized in his eyes, the image of those eyes looking at him for the first time vanished leaving an undeniable emptiness that even so, even though he knew what he felt, he refused to accept it.

— I'm sorry.. — She sobbed, stopping with her gaze lowered. She didn't want them to see her tears, she didn't want pity, she didn't want them to see her weakness.. , She didn't want anything! , no.. she didn't know what she wanted. She didn't know anymore.

Since Hestia came into his life he had lost the proper sense of living it, he only lived for her, only... only for that need to fill that void left by the loneliness of so many years.

It was then that he noticed it, he looked up and a few steps ahead he could see the small silhouette of Hades, sobbing and trembling as he hunched over himself.

"When..?" She wondered, approaching slowly, her body wanting to comfort him, her heart urging her on and for the first time in a long time she felt it beat again, not with love, not with affection.. but with something more.

"H-Hades?" Her voice echoed in the silence of the forest, but all she got in response was inaudible wails. She didn't think twice when she raised her trembling hand, trying to touch his shoulder, but she was slapped away.

Hades stepped back.

"Don't come any closer!" the young man shouted, his voice trembling as he pressed both hands tightly against his ears. Odysseus didn't understand. Why was he pushing him away? 

— H-Hades .. please .. —He called, holding his breath when he saw the infant pressing harder on his ears, if he continued like that he could get hurt, he thought.

“No! No! And no!” A new cry of frenzy erupted from her throat, leaving Odysseus speechless. “I don’t need your pity!” he declared, his body trembling as he stepped back again.

Odysseus felt it, that pang echoing in his chest again. He wanted to speak, to open his mouth and comfort him, but the words wouldn't come out. No matter how hard he tried, they stuck in his throat, refusing to come out.

"What's taking you two so long?" Hestia's childish voice emerged from behind their backs. Hades looked up for the first time in the entire conversation, and Odysseus just gave him a blank stare, sighing as he approached Hades and took him by the shoulder, rubbing his hand against his back in a kind of comforting way.

"Forgive us, Hestia. Hades hurt himself with a dry root," Odysseus explained, encouraging Hades to move forward to where Hestia was. He was smiling even though he had been shedding tears a few minutes ago. He was smiling even though the pain was eating him up inside.

Hestia just watched Odysseus approach Hades, possibly making some scathing comment about her brother being a weakling but to Hades' surprise this time she remained silent, just watching the older man's eyes closely.

"We must hurry, it won't be long before the sun begins to set." With that, he took Hestia by the shoulder and guided her to walk beside him, just as he had done with Hades.

In the short distance they walked to reach the trees silence reigned, Odysseus said nothing, Hades was lost in his thoughts and Hestia... Hestia was excited to pick the fruit.

His enthusiasm was such that when he saw the trees in the distance he didn't hesitate to run and climb them, laughing as he hung from a well-formed branch.

"Hestia, get down from the tree!" Hades could hear Odysseus scolding Hestia at his side, who stepped forward to make sure the girl didn't get hurt climbing trees.

"You're exaggerating, Ayo!" Hestia responded from a distance, climbing onto a higher branch. Odysseus hurried to the tree where Hestia was, leaving Hades behind completely alone, who watched the scene with some longing.

Odysseus smiled sideways upon noticing it, seeing the longing reflected in her eyes made that pang stab his heart again, the feeling felt stronger, skillfully penetrating his heart and forcing it to beat fast. 

"Come closer, Hades," Odysseus encouraged, stopping scolding Hestia to turn to Hades, his features softening. Hades took a step back, wanting to reject the offer, but there was something about those eyes watching him, that smile softly tugged on those pale lips, that warmth, that made him feel flattered.

She erased each and every thought with great ease, and when she realized it she was approaching the man's figure with hesitant steps. For the first time, she didn't care about Hestia's repellent gaze, she ignored it as she walked, feeling the warm grass against her bare feet. 

The sun shone on the horizon, painting the sky with beautiful orange and reddish tones. He didn't think as he approached the trees, the shadow covering his body the closer he got. 

The pang returned with more force in Odysseus' heart, the bitter taste of a bad feeling rose up his throat leaving in its wake an aftertaste of bile and bitterness, his heart beat strongly inside his ribcage, dawning that at any moment it would shoot out of there to create a morbid presentation show while Hades was about to take his hand, a great advance but that did not prevent the bad omen from increasing. 

Just a second and everything would be over, Odysseus consoled himself, forcing a smile as Hades was about to take his blue cloak, it was barely a brush of fingers but Odysseus could feel it like an eternity as the anxiety grew by leaps and bounds. 

Hades calmly wound his slender fingers through the blue fabric, holding on brazenly as Odysseus felt his breath catch.

Nothing had happened, a voice in his head told him, but something had happened.

A hand grabbed Hades's wrist, holding it tightly until his hand trembled, anger visible in his hostile attitude towards the minor.

"Stay away from Odysseus." The voice sounded with implacable authority, Hestia stared at Hades's bewildered expression. Her own expression showed an incredible coldness; Odysseus couldn't remember ever seeing that expression on Hestia. 

" Too easy to be true  " A voice repeated in his mind, mocking him with his own words.

Chapter Text

(The glow of a torch)

The faint light of dawn filtered through the open window, the gentle summer breeze caressing her delicate features as she stirred restlessly in bed, searching for the warmth of the body she found every morning after waking. But unfortunately, this morning she didn't find that warmth; instead, she felt emptiness beside her, the chill of absence contrasting sharply with the warmth of the sun on her face.

She patted the side of the bed several times, trying to find the warmth she so desperately craved instead of the cold where her caregiver once lay. She spent seconds searching for his presence, but, as expected, she didn't find it.

There was only cold, loneliness, and a growing anguish when she realized he wasn't beside her.

Where had he gone? That was the first thought in her sleepy mind. Her thoughts came and went in a confused jumble, but it didn't stop her from getting up. The blanket slipped to the side as she sat on the edge of the bed, lazily rubbing one eye. Calm down, he told himself. It wasn't the first time he'd woken up without his caregiver by his side, so he knew worrying wouldn't do him any good.

When his feet touched the cold wooden floor, he jumped up, stretched out both arms, and moved his hips, mimicking the same movements his caregiver made after getting out of bed. The only difference was that when he performed the movements exactly as his caregiver did, none of them creaked, proving his youth and good physical condition.

"Um..." A buzzing sound emerged in his throat. He hunched his back and lazily allowed himself to move forward. Both legs moved sluggishly but with visible determination as he stopped to stand on his bare toes. Stretching out his arms, he grasped the caramel-colored doorknob and turned it, opening the door with a click.

The silhouette of the open door was reflected in her eyes, the light streaming through and reflecting in her beautiful reddish orbs, before she glimpsed the long, solitary hallway. Where should she begin? The question floated in her mind like a flower on a crystal-clear lake until it sank beneath the water, its petals wet and drowning it mercilessly.

Analyzing her surroundings, she decided it was a good idea to start by searching the garden outside.

And so she walked down the hallway, her silent footsteps echoing off the four walls as she advanced calmly, stopping before a white curtain, the entrance to the garden. It turned out he wasn't in the garden. Although she searched among the bushes, asked the flowers if they had seen him, and even considered the possibility that the animals had kidnapped him, there was no trace of him in the garden.

So she went to "the loom room." Her caretaker used to go there to weave, and she usually watched him as he played with two dolls he had made himself to keep him entertained and out of trouble. Though she couldn't help it, her eyes always wandered from her game to watch him weave, those fine threads tangling elegantly around his knuckles. He manipulated the threads as if he were the very goddess of destiny, intertwining the threads of the future of someone destined to be a great hero.

The serenity he displayed when he sat down at the loom and began to weave, like an expert spider, or perhaps a skill he had perfected over the years, always captivated her. He mesmerized her with every movement of his fingers, every ragged breath, and every soft flutter of his eyelashes.

But, to her surprise, she didn't find him there. The loom was halfway through weaving a new tapestry, the threads hanging at the bottom with their usual elegance but lacking the charm that used to mesmerize her. Silence, restlessness, and an irritating tranquility filled the room, filled with tapestries that didn't deserve her attention. No matter how beautiful the tapestries were or how elaborate they looked, none would come close to the beauty of her caretaker's serene expression as he tightened the threads of his old loom.

Well... it didn't matter right now.

Her next stop was the master bedroom. It wasn't much, just simple furniture like Klismos, a chair with curved legs and an unusual concave back. Her caretaker had told her that he made those chairs when she arrived, thinking that perhaps they would be a good way to be near her when he couldn't sleep because of the frequent nightmares she'd had since she was a baby. Or rather, it was common for her caretaker to tell her about these kinds of things: the times he was forced to do the impossible to rescue her from the trouble she got into, or how, once, when she was a 3-year-old child, she angered the herbal spirits of a nearby forest and he had to talk to them to get them not to do anything to her.

She didn't know if it had been real, but whether it was a lie or not, remembering it always filled her with an unimaginable warmth, for it reminded her that, somehow, the man who cared for her truly loved her despite his initial lack of tact. She found that side of Odysseus, the one he rarely showed, that could easily be... endearing.

She quickly snapped out of her thoughts, wanting to focus on her current mission: finding Odysseus. Her beloved caretaker.

With that in mind, she headed to the last place she had left to check, walking calmly down the long corridor once more, admiring with shining eyes the green, well-tended lawn of the central garden, scanning it with her gaze and inevitably returning to memories of the past.

Like that time she twisted her ankle and, through tears, "horribly magnificent," in her caretaker's words, the spirit had to use the energy of the surrounding plants to heal her ankle. She still vividly remembered the warmth of his healing magic, like the sun's warm rays emerging after a heavy snowfall, enveloping her injured ankle and gently healing it.

Remembering it, she smiled, veering off her path to venture into the dense foliage, the grass caressing her skin as if she were seeing an old friend. She'd never been keen on helping Odysseus tend the garden, but she could say with certainty that she enjoyed slipping on the damp grass after watering.

Just the two of them... no one else...

It was so refreshing to feel the moisture on her skin, the grass caressing every exposed inch, and the sun's rays upon her...

As she stepped onto the damp grass (a common occurrence on sunny mornings), she felt her feet catch on something, causing her to fall flat on her face. Luckily, the tall grass cushioned her fall, preventing any injury.

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—Ouch. Who's there?— he asked the grass, and as expected, received no answer, only the sound of the wind gently rustling through the turf. So, letting out a sigh, he placed his foot on a patch of bare earth and jumped up, feeling his foot hit something hard as soon as he stood. Apparently, it was the same thing he had tripped over.

Among the bent grass, exposed earth, and crushed flowers, he spotted a medium-sized basket that quickly caught his attention. Approaching carefully, he knelt on the ground beside the basket. "Perhaps its caretaker had forgotten it," was the first thought that crossed his mind as he reached out and opened the basket, removing the white cloth that covered the objects inside.

A pair of golden bracelets, a bottle of wine, and an object wrapped in papyrus with a note attached were what he found. The bracelets could belong to Odysseus, the wine probably one of his new reserves, but the strange package with the note? What could it be?

Driven by curiosity, she reached out and took the letter, opening it and holding it with both hands in front of her face.

"Oh, my dear Odysseus, have you already forgotten me? I don't think so, but in any case, I haven't been able to forget your beautiful face since that time in the meadow. You shone like no other Nereid I've ever seen. However, this letter is far from being a confession.

The boy, that young man with black hair you'll find at your door, is named Hades; he's the younger brother of my little Hestia. I hope you can take care of him as well as you have with Hestia all this time. Hades is somewhat shy, but I know you can handle him. He's a good person, and you'll grow fond of him quickly, I'm sure of it. He'll surely steal all your attention with his charm.

With that said, I hope you, Odysseus Outis, are in excellent health."

Hestia felt her face darken as she read the second paragraph, feeling a gnawing feeling in her heart like no other before. Did that mean that this Hades would replace her? Would she no longer be the only one in Odysseus's life? Would she no longer be important to her guardian?

When the question filled her mind, her hands crumpled the paper she held, almost an involuntary reflex, feeling the heat emanating from them, about to burst into flames. The thought that Odysseus could replace her with that supposed brother of his, or even share his attention, ignited a fury, setting off a spark in her heart.

At that moment, she wished to burn the letter, to reduce to ashes all evidence that it had ever been in his hands, so that the wind would carry it away and out of his sight. She wished it so much that she didn't think clearly when her fingertips burst into flames, slowly consuming the paper in her outburst of anger.

But a faint hope, a fleeting moment of clarity, caused her anger to be replaced by uncertainty. The fire didn't advance further across the paper; it began to retreat toward her fingers.

"Odysseus wouldn't be capable," she clung to the idea, grabbing the basket by the top as she rose from the ground, hiding the letter among her clothes. She would hide the basket, but only until she was sure Odysseus wouldn't replace her with Hades.

Only until she was sure... then she would confess everything.

However, that moment never came. When she went to the entrance to meet her supposed brother and deliberately burned his hand to mock him, hoping to make him laugh with her, he scolded her, going to comfort Hades instead of laughing side by side as they were supposed to. She wasn't going to lie, the image filled her with rage; the fear of being abandoned by her caretaker increased, as did a new feeling that bubbled from the depths of her selfish heart.

Hate.

She began to hate Hades.

Day after day, fear and resentment grew, each time she saw Odysseus hold her hand, THE hand he had offered her all her life, a hand that should have been extended only to HER and not to Hades. It was supposed to be that way; Hades had no right to touch her hand, embrace her body, or even yearn for her touch. It wasn't something that belonged to him. It would never belong to a nobody like him.

And now, to see her caretaker siding with Hades, the one who had come to steal what she loved most, enraged her.

—Odysseus, what are you doing?—Her voice was thick with pent-up anger, her teeth clenched tightly as her fingers curled into a trembling fist. It was the first time in years that she had called her caretaker by name, and although she often said it in her mind as if it were her favorite word, she rarely spoke it aloud.

In response, he relaxed his frown, lowering the hand that separated the two children in a gesture of confidence that she wouldn't erupt in anger. She watched for a few moments as his lips trembled with hesitation; it was just a small detail, but it meant everything to her, enough to soften her own expression so she could listen to him with a little more composure.

—Hestia, you can't treat him like this— he blurted out suddenly, and his anger returned, this time more corrosive, more invasive. It wasn't that the words bothered her; she cared little for them, but this time, they were more than words; they were stakes straight to the heart. The tone behind them was pure disappointment, a disappointment directed solely at her.

—No. —the reply slipped from her lips without thinking before she quickly bit her lower lip, holding back the words that struggled to escape. She could feel them, scratching at her throat and exclaiming miserable pleas for her to forget everything at stake if they escaped, and instead, to let them out of the prison of her throat.

She could feel it; Odysseus's face contracted, torn between the affection he felt for her and another feeling unreadable to Hestia.

For a second, Hestia wanted to interrupt him, tell him not to think so much and to choose her without hesitation, but when a sigh escaped her trembling lips again, she knew that Odysseus had made his decision.

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—Hestia, apologize to Hades.— The words landed like a bucket of cold water on Hestia's shoulders; her eyes widened and sweat beaded on her palms. The young woman wanted to believe she had misheard, but as soon as she looked into the man's eyes and saw the seriousness reflected there, she knew she hadn't. Odysseus really wanted her to apologize.

"But…" Hestia cleared her throat; a bead of sweat trickled down her temple, a result of her nerves, unable to finish the sentence. She lowered her head.

—No buts!— Odysseus interrupted her, his tone grave and almost authoritarian, making Hestia swallow her words. Saliva trickled in her throat, suppressing the words that longed to escape, while an indescribable burning sensation choked the tears in her brown eyes. But something else burned within her, ignited by that display of authority. The urge to contradict him burns her tongue as a weak sob escapes from deep within her throat.

"No," she repeats once more, her sobs mingling with her words as tears stream down her cheeks. She jerks her head up without realizing it, clenching her fists as if by instinct. "I won't apologize," she adds, anger coursing through her words. Indignant.

Odysseus opens his eyes, his expression one of beautiful surprise, and she can't help but gaze at his bewildered face. It's an expression she doesn't recall ever seeing on him, and for some reason, she finds it beautiful in this situation. She longs for more of that feeling, wants to see it reflected on his face, thanks to her and her alone.

—Hades means nothing to us.— Hestia replies with pain; he's lying, she knows it perfectly well. Hades is her blood brother, her family, but she can no longer consider him as such now that he has come to steal her happiness, her protector. She hates the thought of her own blood betraying her in this way; she refuses to allow it.

—He's only come to create distance between us, Ody!— she sobs, wanting to make her point clear, the true nature of Hades: that he only comes to separate them, to create a rift, and ultimately, to replace her in Odysseus's life. That's why they should banish him from their lives, get rid of him, and forget about him.

It was the best thing in her eyes.

"But what are you saying... Hestia?" Odysseus's awkward question fuels her anger. Why can't she accept it? she wonders to herself, as the hands that had been hanging loosely at her sides now clench into fists. The anger grows with every word that leaves Odysseus's mouth. She refuses to accept that perhaps she's exaggerating, letting herself be driven by an irrational fear. She wants to prove she's right.

—Hades won't come to do any of the things you say, Hestia.— Odysseus continues, raising a hand to subtly point at Hades, who, on the contrary, shudders, hugging himself as if wounded by her words.

—You're lying!—Hestia snaps, taking a step forward. Her divine power runs wild as she unleashes her emotions. The earth beneath her feet trembles, holding something back, like a facade of false tranquility struggling to contain the anger beneath a forced serenity.

The words of the letter echo in her mind. They torment her, and she can't stop remembering them: Hades will replace her, Odysseus will fall under her spell, all of this... all that cunning of her brother, her own treacherous blood...

—You're lying! ¡You're lying!— he repeats over and over, as his feet pound the earth, the scorched grass beneath them, the ground trembling.

She would be replaced, Hades would take her place, Odysseus would forget her...

—The letter said so!— Finally, it explodes. The earth trembles in full eruption, fire bursts forth majestically, burning everything in its path, but... there is something abnormal about the fire. Its heat may overwhelm the sunset, but it doesn't burn the grass. It follows a path without harming the surrounding vegetation. As if something, deep in her subconscious, prevents her from harming what she considers home, refusing to do so, and instead clings to create a path for what has come to disturb her peace: Hades.

A fiery blaze rapidly approaches Hades, mercilessly striking the body of the one who came to snatch away everything she has fought for. At last, she is rid of him, and Odysseus and she will return to their normal lives. As it should be.

She closes her eyes, a soft smile tugging at her lips as the fire engulfs what she believes to be an intruder, but her gaze quickly turns to horror when she realizes who is truly engulfed in flames.

The flames dissipate instantly, her eyes fill with tears, and a piercing scream escapes her throat.

—I-I... Odysseus!—she exclaims in horror, unable to move from her spot, meters away from the man's prone body, which she protects in her arms, protecting the terrified body of the deadly god, who cries and gasps, struggling to escape her grasp.

Stupefaction paralyzes her, and tears of regret stream down her flushed cheeks as she turns to run in the opposite direction, where Odysseus is trying to call her name. Then she hears Hades, possibly, running into the woods in the opposite direction.

She doesn't want to look back, for she knows she's made a mistake, a grave error, and that she's hurt her beloved guardian. Tears blur her vision as she ventures deeper into the milky forest, the rustling of branches echoing in her ears. She doesn't watch where she's going; she can only think of the shock she feels right now, the pain etched on her face, the fear of Hades. Everything.

And when she stumbles on a root protruding from a tree, all she can do, amidst a sea of ​​tears and endless doubts, is ask herself:

What have I just done?