Chapter Text
On December 22nd 20XX, Zeus had an unusual urge to slumber. He tried to resist to fight off the sluggishness but it was to no avail. He cursed Hypnos’s name for his crimes as the darkness overtook him.
He woke up in a void. An empty room with a black marble and cave walls with some sort of static energy field around them.
His wrists and ankles were encased in shackles made of celestial bronze, each with a long chain leading back to three ornate chairs.
“What is the meaning of this?” He demanded, struggling to break the bonds to no avail.
Who in their right minds would kidnap the king of the gods, the rightful ruler of the cosmos, the god of the skies and thunder?
No one dared to even think of staging a coup after Poseidon, Apollo’s and Hera’s failed attempt two thousand years ago.
“Show yourself at once,” he commanded the cowards, “or the punishment will be so severe you will wish that the River Styx-“
“Wish that I would what?” A blue skinned woman said as she moved out of the shadows with grace.
Zeus recognized her in an instance. A minor insignificant goddess with no real authority or power. Vanquishing her would be an easy task once he was freed of his bonds.
Since he was shackled he was unable to pulverize her with his bolt, so he would have to settle for using his thundering voice to frighten her instead. “Lady Styx, this treachery will not be forgiven-“
“Indeed.” She said cutting him off, as if she had the right to do so. As if she didn’t interrupt the king of the gods. Zeus’s entire body shook with barely constrained rage, at her audacity and he felt his veins pulsating in his head and chest.
She circled around him like a predator chasing their prey. “You will not be forgiven for swearing upon my waters and breaking your sacred oath,”
Zeus’s fury began to diminish.
She knew what he did.
He quickly masked his fear, something that had been instilled in him as a young boy when he was forced to be his father’s cupbearer.
To show weakness was to be devoured.
Besides, he reminded himself she was not a powerful god like him. She held no true power over him.
The worst she could possibly do was curse his offspring, the creature developing in Beryl’s womb.
And we’ll holding him hostage until he managed to escape.
But he’d get his vengeance once he was freed, and he’d make an example of her like he did when he hung Hera upside over Tartarus. Or to Apollo and Poseidon when he bound them together and forced them to pretend they were mortals for a year.
She stepped closer to him, using her hair to drag his face upwards and titling it so he’d look her in the eyes. He glared at her eyes flashing gold the same horrendous eyes his father bore.
“You know full well that there’s consequences for breaking promises sworn upon me, so what transpires today will be of your own doing.” He was the god of justice so he could respect someone who held others accountable for their actions, but he was also a prideful hypocritical being that absolved himself of any wrong-doing.
He’d always blame someone else for his misgivings or claim that the ends justify the means.
And in this case he could only blame Beryl Grace.
She was a witch. She lured him in to her lair with her sky blue eyes, her red lips, her thighs, her curves, her breasts, her sultry voice that said his name like she was casting a spell. He was powerless, on his knees at her mercy.
He was not raped or drugged as a god such as him could never be, but he was intoxicated with her heavenly, divine aroma, and like a moth drawn to a flame he was burned.
She burned him, so she burn too.
Outrage sprang up within him if he was guilty for breaking the oath than Beryl was as well.
Yet River Styx did not drag her from her bedroom and bind her up in chains. Where was the justice in that?
She was walking free. Living her life as she pleased. As if she was innocent when she seduced the king of the gods, a married man. She deserved to suffer for her actions more so than Zeus.
It was after all written into the universe that women were lesser beings. Gaia did not defeat Ouranos it was Kronos who overthrew him. And it was Zeus who overthrew Kronos, not Rhea.
Besides all it was always Zeus’s mistresses who were punished for sleeping with him not, Zeus. That just proved that woman deserved harsher punishments.
Lady Styx drew the attention to herself once again by speaking, as if she was more important than Zeus’s own thoughts. Typical woman, he mused, they were so boastful they always had to be in the spotlight.
“To help me ensure that justice will be bestowed I’ve requested an audience with three beings who will see to it that justice will be served.”
Zeus’s ichor ran cold, as the mist hiding the other three figures vanished and he could see their faces.
Three old women seated around a spinning wheel, each with a different object in their hands. A measuring tape, a golden thread, and a pair of scissors.
The Fates.
No one could deny a decree from them, they had more power in their pinkies than Zeus had in his entire body.
Whatever punishment that they had in store for him he would grin and bare it without complaint.
He knew he’d only make matters worse if he protested, tried to deny or downplay his actions. As prideful as he was, he wasn't stupid.
“Zeus Chronim.” They said, as he grit his teeth together trying to swallow his rage at the insult of lumping him in with his father. “Gods who break their oaths upon Lady Styx are to be left weak without ambrosia or nectar for ten years, and ostracized from divine society.” They reminded him.
He nearly shuddered at the mental images of him looking like his siblings when he, and he alone rescued them. They were grotesque with long uncut, matted hair and covered in stomach acid. They were waking skeletons, literally in Hades’s case lacking their full energy and strength. They stumbled using their limbs and were mentally incompetent. They hissed, bit, and growled at people like the dogs they were. Well, it was mainly Poseidon would did those things. Mainly him. The others not so much or as much but Poseidon was a different story. He also tried to strangle Zeus with his tentacles when they first met, as if Zeus didn’t heroically save him. He could not be reduced to behaving like his heathen of a brother, Poseidon.
Never the matter.
They could hardly even speak and were completely incapable of forming grammatically correct statements. The fools didn’t even know their own names.
He could not, will not end up like them.
He’d rather give up sex fore- for a century than to face such a disgrace of an existence.
Why even fading away like Ouranos would be better, because his dignity his reputation would still be intact.
Still, he would not hang his head in shame or snivel and grovel at the Fates’s feet like a cowering fool. He would grin and bare the consequences.
He would not be consumed.
“Yes, I am aware.” He said with a tight, controlled voice.
“And did you or did you not swear with your brothers upon the River Styx these exact words “Upon the River Styx I swear to have no more affairs with mortals or to bring any demigod children into the world.”
“I did.” He replied.
“And did you or did you not break that oath nine months ago?”
"I did." He said again, irritated with their insistency to draw things out. Why did they see fit to waste anymore of his time? Was their goal to humiliate him? To get him to regret his actions, because he regretted his actions the minute, he heard Beryl's prayer to him that he was pregnant. He did not need the Fates to make him even more remorseful.
"Then you do not deny your crimes?" They asked him, perplexed. Did they honestly think Zeus was so full of himself or so naive to lie to the Fates of all people? Please even Zeus knew strength needed to bow to wisdom sometimes. Though he was usually the one people yielded to and not the other way around.
"No, I do not." Just get this over with, Zeus kept repeating to himself over and over again in his head.
"Since you've confessed we will proceed straight with the sentencing." The Fates said.
Lady Styx moved around him again. “Originally I wanted to ban you from Olympus and the godly world, but the Fates said you were too powerful, too important of a god for that.” She was annoyed and Zeus was very pleased at that. If he was the boastful type, he would’ve chuckled or given an award-winning smirk at Lady Styx’s defeat. He is too important to be deduced to be a rambling idiot, devoid of his honor.
“Instead, you will spend ten years supporting your newly born daughter Thalia.” lady Styx said.
This was his punishment?
He almost laughed.
This was hardly an inconvenience. He would set Thalia Grace up with a good life. He could more than afford to do that. Berry would receive a monthly check of $50,000 a gift basket and a present every now and he could go to the child’s birthday’s so Thalia could bask in his glory and learn what a fulfilling life he led. He could even give her advice on tips to be successful like him.
"You seem almost pleased," Lady Styx said, with a predatory grin. It reminded him far too much of how Poseidon looked when he plotted something. "Well, you shouldn't be since you will be caring for her. And to ensure you don't skip out on parenthood you won't be able to part from her for more than ten hours without consequence."
WHAT?
He felt his body explode with tremors, a whirling storm come to life within him, dying to be released as his commotion caused the shackles to dig into his skin.
The king of the gods was not some nanny or nursemaid.
He was not going to care for a child, especially a mortal child.
He did not even raise his own children.
Leto took care of Artemis and Apollo.
Hermes aged quickly and was tended to by Apollo and Maia.
Hera raised Ares.
Hephaestus was thrown off a mountain.
Dionysus was with a human family.
Heracles was with his mother and stepfather.
Helen was with Leda.
Perseus was with Dictys.
Even Athena, his most beloved child was reared by Triton and Poseidon.
“Ten hours, a symbol of the ten years of your servitude and enough time to take care of godly business should it arise.” The Fates said ominously.
What more could they possibly have in store for him? He was to be bound to an infant. A drooling, smelly little screaming bald thing. And here they were mentioning godly business as an omen. A warning of some kind.
The Great Prophecy flashed into his head.
No, this child would be the harbinger of doom!
He needed to take her out, for the good of the divine world and even the insignificant mortal world.
“You will raise the girl as a mortal would, unable to fully utilize your powers,” they said continuing. What did that mean exactly? What powers would he be unable to use? He was the king of the gods, ruler of the skies, the thunder ringer, the lightning wilder. “And without ambrosia and nectar to get by on, lest the godly world need you. Worry not, you will not starve so long as you consume the food and drink of mortals.” The Fates added.
Drink water? The very substance his older brother has complete dominion and control over?
No, he would sooner die than let Poseidon infiltrate his body, his very being.
“Now you may be thinking it is unfair of us to keep Beryl from being punished.”
Yes! Let Hera ascend from the heavens and drive the woman to madness, Zeus wanted to cry out.
“So, until Beryl Grace dies you can be with no other man or woman." Lady Styx said.
NO!
Beryl Grace would die tonight.
Her death would be amongst the thousands, no millions who died in California from the storm he would create. A storm so powerful mortals would talk of it for centuries. Much more [powerful than Poseidon's 1912 San Francisco earthquake.
"Only with her if you so choose it." How was he supposed to be with his wife Hera then? His adoring, wise, gorgeous queen? How could he rob her of her needs? Her needs for intimacy with him? His charming, brilliant, magnificent wife did not deserve this. She needed to be fulfilled and only Zeus could supply her with what she so craved, so desperately. She was infatuated with him, and what a cruel man he'd be to deny such a stunning, stellar, poised woman.
"After all you broke the oath for her after nearly sixty-five years of abstinence with mortals. And before you begin plotting, Lady Styx said, "you cannot harm her. Nor can you harm Thalia."
Zeus’s felt heat rising from his inner being, setting his skin on fire. He was to commit abstinence until she died? He could only commit himself to that vile, treacherous hag! No, he would not accept or tolerate that. In fact, he would tell Hera of their existence right away. He would get scolded again, but he would be free from them before he could blink. His wife, his loyal, loving, ruthless wife would save him. And for his gratitude he would commit five, no three years of his life to being with her and no other nymphs, or goddesses.
“I’d love to see Lady Hera’s reactions to all of this.” Lady Styx said in a sing-song voice. Zeus would love to see it too. Her fiery rage and unrighteous anger were a sight to behold. And for once he wouldn't have the slightest qualms about her taking out his lover and child. She could do whatever she pleased, and Zeus would cheer her on from the side lines.
“Now, now Lady Styx,” The Fates said, “Thalia and Beryl will be shielded from godly and monstrous attention.”
No that could not be. Hera had to alleviate him of his suffering. She had to blot out his mistakes and strike down his oppressors. If she didn't what was Zeus to do, actually live out his sentence? Wait for Beryl to die of natural causes? She was a healthy young woman she had at least fifty more years left in her.
Before he could plot a way out, the Fates had one last thing to say to him. “This is your curse, Lord Zeus. Learn from it."
He did not come to the hospital on his own terms. He only went -because he had tested the bounds of his curse and discovered that staying away for more than ten hours caused frigid, icy cold water to infiltrate his veins and spread throughout his entire body bringing him to his knees. Curse Poseidon for being the god of the waters.- he only went to avoid a worse fate. He knew he had to conform to the constraints of his curse, so he arrived at the hospital by his own free will.
Outside a raging thunderstorm took place. It was so massive and intense that he knew mortals would talk of it for years to come. If it wasn’t for the Fates promise he’d worry about attracting the eye of his older brothers, seeing how close he was to their domains.
Why Beryl had to live in Malibu was beyond him. She was only minutes away from the sea and less than an hour away from LA. She was originally from London but moved to America to find fame, which she did, and Zeus just so happened to see her pictures plastered everywhere in New York.
An enchanting young vixen who needed to be tamed.
Before he walked into the lobby, he assessed his reflection, forcing his sour expression to be one of neutrality. He also straightened out his tie and smoothed the creases in his Armani suit.
He would not go into the hospital as a condemned man in chains, but with his head held high.
To show weakness would get him devoured.
When he walked into the hotel lobby he saw a horde of paparazzi with flashing cameras. Beryl was a celebrity he had to remind himself, which meant his time with her would not be as private as he’d like. He could not smite them from obstructing his path without risking the Fates wrath. Or worse ending up on TV in front of the whole world, undoubtedly someone from the godly world would recognize him and his curse would go public. Even if the Fates told him Thalia was safe from godly attention that didn't necessarily mean he was. In fact, they didn't mention if he was safe from godly attention.
Hospital security kept pushing the crowd backwards and Zeus had to physically shove his way in and step on the feet of several mortals to get to the front. If only he could assume his true glory, they all would’ve jumped out of the way for him to pass. When he finally reached the front a muscular man stood before him with his arms crossed. “Family only.”
He was not in the mood for in dilly-dalling. “I am the father of the child. You will take me to see my daughter immediately.”
The guard rolled his eyes, and while Zeus was not the violent or confrontational type he did want to knock his lights out. “We’ve had ‘three fathers of the child’ already come through.
You aren’t getting anywhere without an ID.”
Zeus wiped out a stupid piece of plastic from his crocodile skin wallet. The Fates made him a human alias against his will and said they’d manipulate the Mist.
Maximus Papadopoulos.
Maximus was a Latin name denoting strength, perfectly suitable for Zeus. Papadopoulos was a Greek last name meaning “son of a priest" and did not meet his approval. He was no servant or son of someone significant. He was significant on his own accord. His last name needed to demonstrate that.
Zeus could feel the Mist fall upon the mortal. “Oh, right this way Sir. She’s in room 226.”
When he arrived outside room 226, his hand rested on the doorknob. He could see Beryl outside of a small window in the door. She looked so undesirable now with her lack of makeup and sweaty face. And instead of that sexy red dress she was now wearing an ugly turquoise hospital gown. He inwardly cringed. How the Fates torture him by depriving him of other sexual partners? Her beauty had faded and she'd only get older and wrinkly as time went on. He was not a poacher who hunted elderly deer, but the finest vixens.
But he had no choice, he had to go in. He had to get this over with. He could not delay the inevitable or invite the icy cold waters of the Underworld into his veins again.
When he twisted the doorknob and stepped through the threshold he entered like the triumphant king, he was. The second Beryl saw him her weary face melted away and extreme ecstasy took over. “I knew you’d be back; I have that effect on men.” She said in a sultry voice, the same voice that lured him into her bedroom nine months ago. “Plus, I saw the flashes of lighting streak across the sky and realized it was your way of welcoming our child into the world.”
It sickened him now and he couldn’t stop himself from sneering at her, not just because she was exhausted and frail from labor but because it was her fault he was cursed.
Oblivious, intentionally obtuse, or on too many pain killers Beryl ignored his repulsion. And burning coals were heaped on his head. “I came only to see my daughter, not you.” He said through gritted teeth. He would not, could not tell Beryl of his true reasons for being here. No one could ever know of his curse. Spending a year in his father’s stomach acid would be less suffocating than the humiliation that would follow if a mortal of all people found out that he was fallible.
“If you say so.” She said, chuckling to herself, before she hoisted a bundle onto her lap. “This is Thalia, I named her after one of the muses. After, one of your beautiful daughters,” she was trying to flatter him. It wouldn’t work. He was done giving this woman pleasure. “You know,” she continued, “Thalia here looks just like you. She has your eyes, your nose, your everything. You should see her." She said trying to oogle him, before she waved a hand beckoning him closer.
He only moved towards the woman because he had to see Thalia, even though he'd rather spit upon the pitiful rat of a child Beryl no doubt gave birth to.
Zeus glanced down at the accursed infant, the true reason he was in bondage. The source of all his agony and suffering. A vile creature that should be ripped apart by the hellhounds of Tartarus, he learned Beryl did not exaggerate Thalia's appearance.
For when he saw Thalia he saw his own face staring back up at him.
He nearly staggered, well would’ve if he was a spineless, cowardly, pathetic mortal.
Thalia was the first child he ever had that looked like him, so much like him. And she was the child that cursed him.
He felt tremors spreading through his hands, threatening to shake him to his core. He could not lose his composure in front of these two wretches, so he gracefully excused himself. “I will be taking my leave now.” He told Beryl as he did everything within his power to not storm out of the room.
Once he was outside of the room, he quickly looked for a place to take out his rage. He found a nearby storage room, filled with blood bags. In a fit of rage, he destroyed the room knocking over nearby shelves and tearing the bags apart with his bare hands. Blood splattered everywhere coating the walls and the floors, while also drenching Zeus.
After everything was left to shambles Zeus stared down at his stained hands, heaving. As clarity returned to him, he realized that this curse was the worst fate that could bestowed upon him.