Demeter didn't know what to expect after being swallowed by Kronos. The divinity surrounding her protected her during the swallowing process, allowing her to reach her father's stomach safely.
It was a short, comfortable journey to the place where she would likely join other brothers and sisters in the future before taking revenge on him for daring to do this to her.
But she didn't expect to be received like this. Before her stood a god, a deity with power similar to hers, yet profoundly strange. He didn't emanate his Dominion around himself; it was as if all his divinity were trapped within his own body. The shadows and armor enveloping him gave his glowing red eyes a strangeness that fascinated her—as if a wild beast stood before her. His black hair had merged with the armor, giving a biological appearance to this second skin. Yet through her dominion over life—intrinsic to many aspects of her divinity—she sensed that the material, however lifelike it seemed, was not alive.
Behind him, hidden in twilight shadows, stood a fortress—a castle of metals and precious stones. It reflected a simplistic brutality, devoid of details beyond randomly embedded gems.
"Brother." her words echoed before that being could take any action, seeking to dispel the indifference and insanity in those eyes still piercing into her, making her legs tremble slightly.
His eyes remained impassive, but she felt his emanating aggression diminish. Now that the situation had calmed somewhat, she commanded her divinity and rose above the acid, walking across it to approach the metal structure rising above the lake.
"Sister." His voice was slightly hoarse but comforting, like the whisper she recalled hearing from her mother, Rhea, before being devoured. "I see our father wasn't satisfied with swallowing just me."
The armor covering him began to shift until it took the form of a mantle—a black robe with stars shining in the fabric. When he moved, the lines of his body are outlined by the cloth.
"I believe we'll see many more siblings before we escape," As he spoke, she felt divinity emanating from his hands.
He conjured thin filaments of gold that writhed over a silk base, forging a mantle before her eyes. It allowed her to slip her arms through and cover part of her body. A vertical cut still left much of her form visible. For her, covering herself was unnecessary, but since she would apparently be in his home, she decided to follow his direction.
"Our father is a coward," Demeter said, resisting the urge to spit in disgust. "According to our Mother, he fears a prophecy. I remember him shouting at her many times while I was in her womb." She fought the impulse to scream and try to destroy him from within. " he is weak and without a drop of nobility. His fate is to be overthrown by us, his children."
Laughter erupted from the god before her. He offered the garment, now adorned with precious stones along the waistline.
"Well said, Sister. Even if we must devour him from within, we will escape. But dress now. Be comfortable, and I'll show you our temporary residence." He approached her. Up close, she saw they shared similar heights, and he emanated a sweet, inviting aroma that made her want to bite him—yet also radiated danger.
While he held the robe, she turned her back and allowed him to assist. The mantle was heavy, but nothing divine strength couldn't handle. Its weight helped her focus on her own body. Once robed, she prepared to turn and resume the conversation—but his voice, still dangerously close, made her inhale his scent lightly.
"Turn," he murmured.
Turning, she found herself centimeters from his eyes. They still held apathy and insanity, but this close, she saw a light within them—a desire, a strength. She lost herself momentarily in his gaze.
The sensation of fabric lightly brushing her nipples made her resist the urge to lean closer, anchoring her in the moment. But she couldn't suppress a soft, pleasurable exhale as something tightened around her waist.
When he stepped back, her mind and body refocused. The robe now embraced her fully, secured by a cord of braided rubies.
"Thank you," she said, examining the clothing. The gratitude wasn't entirely sincere, but she wouldn't deny the situation felt more balanced now. "Tell me, Brother. I see you've spent your time constructively. Will you show me your home?"
"Constructive." He repeated the word, shoulders trembling slightly. "You could say my architectural style isn't… swallowable."
Demeter didn't know what to say. This being—radiating death and wealth—had made something as lowbrow as a pun. Perhaps her mental image of him was tinted by a desire to tear off his robe and see what lay beneath—to see how much of his insanity she could ignite. But in that instant, she knew: her eldest brother was anything but a bastion of nobility.
"Follow me and observe our temporary home." He extended a hand. Light flooded the area, bathing everything in an amber glow. The diamond embedded in flesh shone like a sun. At full illumination, the purpose of the gem placements became clear: each stone and diamond window channeled light into the palace, transforming it into a spectacle of color.
"This is the main hall." A grand room greeted her, revealing staircases leading to other fortress areas. Small pillars lined the walls, adorned with embedded decorations made of metals and gems—some weapons, others living beings she'd never seen.
She approached the figures: four-legged animals, some predators, some prey. Her divinity sensed how they would live in the future. She glanced sidelong at her brother, who watched her. She seriously wondered if he'd possessed dominion over future-sight, for she was certain some creatures would be born.
"An interesting creature. What would you call this one?" She pointed to the strangest: a small animal with webbed feet, a flat, broad tail, and a long, flattened snout.
"That… I call Perry the Platypus. But that's unimportant. Come—let me show you the rest." He seemed embarrassed as he quickly guided her toward a staircase. Demeter suppressed laughter watching her brother flee the explanation.
The tour continued throughout the fortress. She didn't understand some rooms' functions but avoided asking. She chose a bedroom near his.
And so time passed.
Demeter learned to observe the strange god who seemed content to sit for hours, concentrating on something indescribable. It felt so alien to her divinity that she couldn't comprehend the process.
Sometimes she caught him watching her from the corner of his eye—a curious gaze that made her even more curious about him. Shortly after these looks, new robes would appear: diverse materials and cuts, all precious metals, styles that made her raise an eyebrow.
Watching him explore his divinity inspired her to focus on her own capabilities. After many attempts, she "contaminated" the palace with her essence. Plants began sprouting—something apparently displeasing to their father, for his body's tremors increased.
Discovering he carved and devoured parts of their father's stomach didn't revolt her as it should. Though they didn't need to eat, the idea of such vengeance made Demeter writhe with laughter in her room.
Every "day," they gathered on the terrace to discuss the same topics as previous days, not necessarily possessing new subjects. Afterward, he retreated to continue exploring his divinity while she watched the back of his body, which swayed faintly as he walked.
This continued uninterrupted until the sound of something striking the ground roused them from their reverie as they decorated the fortress—now no longer sterile in appearance, but teeming with life, despite the environment remaining inhospitable to all but those of divine origin.
A woman with nearly black hair and severe eyes emerged. Hera. Demeter wondered if she'd looked equally disoriented upon arrival.
The new sister introduced herself as Hera—and in that moment, Demeter realized she had never introduced herself to her brother. After slightly flustered introductions under Hera's judgmental gaze, they resumed their previous occupations.
Time passed—perhaps the equivalent of three or four rest periods—before he summoned both to one of the new annexes, a place shielded by thick layers of material that emanated danger, as if capable of harming her.
Inside stood a round table with five chairs of gold and gemstones. He gestured; they approached. He sat on a gold-and-obsidian. Hera took sapphire-and-topaz. Demeter moved toward turquoise-and-ruby.
"I called you here because I need a favor," he said, his voice soft and hoarse as ever—a dangerous caress, a strange paradox.
"Speak, Hades," Hera replied, her voice cold yet warm, a paradox mirroring his but evoking less danger—more welcoming heat and icy disappointment. "You welcomed me openly—more than I'd expect from any family."
Hera was the most deeply wounded among us by what transpired, spending the first cycle unable to speak coherently. Her profound ties to the domain of family rendered the experience all the more devastating for her.
"If it's within our power, we'll help." Upon hearing they responses, a faint smile touched his lips. Now that she had coexisted with him longer, Demeter perceived what she'd missed before: his body scarcely showed emotions, but an aura enveloped him—now unmistakably emanating relief and joy.
"I need your blessings. I know it's complex for your dominions to touch another god's divine core and generate the blessing—but I can still my own dominion enough to make it possible." Hera's eyes widened when he spoke those words, and Demeter couldn't stop her hands from trembling slightly. He trusted them. After their own blood's betrayal.
"Don't worry—this isn't free. In exchange, I give you these two coins." He extended his palm; two coins materialized and floated.
The coins were intricately crafted from gray material with silver details. On one side was his face—resembling the form he sometimes took when using wings to explore the stomach's depths, seeking escape routes: a feminine visage with horns curling from the forehead, full curly hair, closed eyes, and generous lips. As she watched, the image shifted to represent his other form—now rendered in gold details. This similar figure lacked horns but bore something resembling an aura emanating from his face, depicted by fine golden lines. The coin's reverse bore a simple symbol: a groove, as if carved by a weapon or claw, sunken deep enough to nearly split it in half.
"I call them Tales. They let you speak to one dead person for as long as the coin lasts against the death-energy. Its use is limited now, but in cycles to come, you'll be grateful to have one." He floated the coins to their hands.
Demeter observed hers with trepidation. She doubted she'd need it, given her immortality. Yet she believed him—it might prove invaluable.
"Name the blessing you seek," Hera and Demeter spoke simultaneously. An exchanged glance confirmed: even without reward, they'd help their brother.
"Thank you… I seek Hera's Blessing of Birth, and Demeter's Blessing of Fertility." He bowed his head slightly. Demeter saw curiosity blazing in Hera's eyes. This felt less like intimacy, more like… something else.
Hera rose first, stroking their brother's hair. Demeter fought the envy of watching him relax under the touch—until divinity flared. He began restricting his aura. The Blessing drained Hera more than expected: ichor dripped from her fingertips when she pulled away.
Hades seemed dazed, eyes glazed and distant. His inner divinity absorbed and transformed the blessing, making it part of him.
Demeter approached, bringing her blessing to her lips before lightly touching his forehead. Her body shuddered; she gripped the table as weakness flooded her legs. Tremors racked her as energy poured into the blessing.
They remained in the room for a time, adrift in the aftermath of the act. The void left by the divinity expended in the blessing began to refill slowly—then with accelerating speed. Demeter could feel her father's energy being devoured by her body and Hera's, the prior peak of divine power not just restored but surpassed as they accumulated more divine energy. By the end, she likely possessed one and a half times the divine energy that she held at the start.
Even restored, she didn't move. Shortly after recovery, Hades finally stirred. His apathetic eyes were gone; warmth and life now shone in his pale face.
"Thank you," he said with a smile, rising and stretching as if stillness had stiffened his bones.
"Hades… why exactly did you want these blessings?" Hera's question mirrored Demeter's unspoken thoughts.
"One of my domains prevents me from siring children. Now that's resolved—thanks to you." His smile was slight, static, but his eyes blazed with joy. " Given how much this exhausted you, allow me to give you an additional favor. I'm at your service."
He gave a small bow. Demeter laughed. Here was their eldest brother—more powerful than any of us yet without arrogance. Meanwhile, she and Hera barely tolerated each other: Hera saw herself as rightful in matters of love/family, viewing Demeter as a stain on perfection.
But seeing Hades' confused expression, Demeter decided: she'd cast off arrogance. She'd strive to be like him, fair and kind.
"I desire a crown—one befitting my future as Queen of Gods," Hera declared. Demeter stared at her, incredulous, while she looked back with contempt, as though the lack of such ambition were pure folly.
"Hera, Future Queen of Gods," Hades vowed. "I, Hades, will craft the fairest, mightiest crown."
His eyes turned to Demeter. She swallowed dryly before rising to meet his gaze.
"I desire your blessing—the capacity to enter and leave your domain." This was her chance. She didn't know what awaited beyond their father's gut, but one truth stood: Hades belonged to the Underworld. As a goddess of life, she couldn't walk the land of the dead.
"For my sister," he said, a faint smile touching his lips. "I grant passage through my home as though it were yours."
Demeter couldn't help but smile back.
And so time passed.
Hestia joined them next, bringing light and warmth that flooded the fortress. Her presence, her smile, made everything better. Often, Demeter found herself with Hades and Hestia—all three sitting together, watching their world, even sleeping side by side.
Hera remained distant, but Hestia's friendship thawed her jealousy. She began attempting closeness, still indifferent but no longer casting envious glances when Demeter was near Hades.
Hades, in turn, ceased searching for escape routes. Instead, he fulfilled his promise and crafted a crown for Hera—one that allowed her to shape garments through thought alone, and even conjure accessories. Thus, in an instant, she embodied the image of a true Goddess of Wealth, this was a stark contrast to Hades, who still wore black robes.
Regarding her blessing, he fashioned an obsidian ring. It would always guide Demeter to him, while emanating an energy that compelled the dead—and with luck, the Underworld itself—to acknowledge her rightful presence.
Though Hestia hadn't participated in the original ritual, she vowed to Hades: "I will light a hearth-fire for you in the Underworld, so all souls—yours included—may know home's warmth." In turn, he created for her an intricate bracelet of gold studded with rubies, its design whispering of flames.
The next of their siblings to join was Poseidon—and his arrival proved the most startling yet, for he immediately challenged Hades for dominion over the palace.
The fact that Hades had simply stepped aside to grant passage, extended his hand to conjure a second palace even grander than the first, and proceeded toward the new structure drew laughter from Hestia and Demeter.
At least until Poseidon declared he should surrender dominion over the goddess to him.
Demeter later could admit it took a moment to process what was happening, but once she understood, she resolved to teach her dear little brother a lesson.
Apparently Hestia thought the same. Only Hera remained silent, though given how she was eyeing Poseidon's body, Demeter doubted she had any intention of staying pure.
Physically, Poseidon surpassed Demeter and Hestia. But eras with Hades had taught them: dominion trumped brute force. Poseidon spent cycles bound by vines around his genitals, hung over an eternal fire burning divine energy—a beautiful teamwork display.
But hearing Hades muse afterward that perhaps he ought to use his dominion over the dead to make... a certain part of Poseidon dead made Demeter shudder.
After cycles, Poseidon ceased hostilities. Hades let him keep the old palace and gave him clothes. Hestia and Demeter avoided long conversations with him initially, but soon realized: though he thought with his "lower head" first, he fiercely loved those close to him. He came to see them as "little sisters" (including Hades), who accepted this, treating him like a child needing attention.
No one commented on Hera's visits to his palace or the sounds echoing from it.
And so time passed.
Until one day, as Demeter posed for Hades—his fingers molding a statue to capture her divine presence and Hestia stood nearby testing "foods" (creations from Demeter harvest divinity), determining what we could or couldn't eat. She'd had the misfortune of being chosen as taster, much to Poseidon's relief after being selected eight times consecutively.
During this moment of peace, they heard the sound of something striking the acid. When she looked toward her new sibling, all that was there was a stone dissolving.
Perhaps the actions they had taken in his stomach had driven her father mad, and now he'd resorted to eating stones.
"Finally," Hades' voice cut through her thoughts.