No PoV:
Perched at the summit of the tallest peak of the highest mountain, an imposing castle loomed like a sentinel against the sky, its structure appearing to be hewn directly from the rugged mountainside. The fortress, a formidable edifice of jagged black stone, towered over the landscape, resembling a clenched fist raised defiantly against the heavens. Its high, arrow-shaped spires pierced the clouds, casting long shadows over the valleys, while the wind howled through its narrow crevices, creating a haunting symphony that echoed through the air. The castle's dark, rough-hewn walls shimmered ominously in the waning light, as if they were imbued with the very essence of the mountain itself.
Hidden within the imposing walls of the great fortress lay a room that offered a striking contrast to its formidable exterior. The space boasted polished wooden floors, each plank gleaming warmly under the soft glow of a flickering stone fireplace. Lavishly woven rugs in rich hues sprawled across the floor, inviting bare feet to experience their plush texture. The walls, painted a soft earthen green, exuded a sense of calm, harmonising with the thick, fur-like furniture that beckoned one to sink into its embrace. The fireplace crackled, casting dancing shadows and filling the air with a comforting warmth that created an inviting sanctuary amid the fortress's austere surroundings.
Nestled in the bed, a mother and her newborn child lay together. The woman was easily the most beautiful person in existence, not just because of her ethereal looks but also because of the flush on her cheeks and the warm, loving gaze she directed toward her child, who looked up at her curiously.
She possessed soft brown skin, adorned with a scattering of freckles that danced across her cheeks like tiny stars twinkling in a twilight sky. Her features, imbued with regal grace, were softened by a nurturing presence that radiated warmth and strength. Her eyes, a mesmerising blend of mossy green and rich chocolate brown, seemed to hold the wisdom of ages, shifting subtly as she moved. Though her hair was wild and untamed from the demands of her labour, it retained a lustrous shade of deep brown, with strands curling playfully around her face.
The child she cradled tenderly in her arms appeared almost ethereal, his features strikingly unique for one so young. Soft, ink-black curls framed his delicate face, accentuating its regal contours. His eyes, captivating and intense, shifted like the night sky, oscillating between the depths of endless darkness and the fierce glow of burning coal.
"I name thee Hades, eldest son of Kronos and Rhea." The woman's voice resonated with warmth and tenderness, wrapping around the boy like a comforting blanket. Despite the emotions welling in her heart, her words flowed gracefully, infused with the authority and love that only a queen or devoted mother could convey. As she spoke, the child froze, his delicate, pale skin beginning to shimmer with a radiant golden glow that danced in the air. When the luminous light receded, she gently lifted him, cradling him in her arms until their faces were mere inches apart, allowing her to gaze deeply into his curious, wide eyes.
Rhea let out a broken chuckle tinged with both sorrow and warmth as she looked into her son's innocent eyes, which sparkled with curiosity and a hint of fear. "You are more aware than your sisters," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly, "which means you will remember what happens next." A wave of bittersweet emotion washed over her as she continued, "It is a mother's duty to guide and protect her children—a duty that I have failed time and again, and tonight I fear I will fail once more. However, know this: your mother does, and always will, love you." Rhea's voice grew stronger with each declaration, filling the air with fierce tenderness as she held her son's gaze, a silent promise etched in the depths of her eyes.
The creaking of a timeworn wooden door shattered the tender moment shared between mother and son. As a figure stepped into the softly lit room, he emanated an uncanny presence—tall and imposing, his height seemed almost otherworldly. His long limbs gave the impression of stretching beyond the bounds of nature, yet his athletic frame suggested a gracefulness that belied his stature. Clad in an elegant black toga intricately woven with threads of shimmering gold, he exuded an aura of authority and refinement. A simple gold circlet rested atop his head, its understated elegance enhancing the regal air that surrounded him.
His facial features bore a striking resemblance to those of the child, hinting at a noble heritage. Chiselled and severe, his face transcended conventional notions of attractiveness, blending beauty with an unsettling intensity. The irises of his eyes sparkled like liquid gold, swirling mysteriously, while his pupils appeared as miniature clocks, ticking with an eerie awareness. Long, inky black hair cascaded down his shoulders, framing a face adorned with a meticulously groomed goatee and moustache. His ghostly white skin contrasted sharply with the dark fabric of his toga, making him appear almost supernatural, like a being who had stepped out of a mythic tale.
As the man approached the bed with a hesitant gait, his body language betrayed an air of uncertainty. Rhea's soft whisper floated through the room, laden with urgency: "Kronos, please..." The newly named Kronos hesitated, his gaze drifting momentarily before he gradually lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. He sat there, a solemn figure, gazing mournfully at the tender scene of mother and child, his expression a mix of sorrow and longing. The dim light cast delicate shadows around him, accentuating the weight of the moment.
"Rhea, I..." his voice faltered—a captivating blend of youthful urgency and centuries-old wisdom that resonated with a nearly timeless quality. He paused, his gaze drifting into the distance as uncertainty clouded his expression. Finally, he summoned the courage to voice his plea: "Don't make me beg."
"You don't need to do this," Rhea replied, her voice steady and resolute, radiating a strength that seemed to fill the air around them. Her words cut through the heavy tension like the clear peal of a bell, ringing with both firmness and deep compassion. "Fate is fickle; any prophetic power our father once commanded has dissipated into the ether alongside him."
The Lord of Time released a breathless sigh, his heart heavy as he turned his gaze toward his wife, his eyes shimmering with a blend of profound love and haunting regret. "You know as well as I do that the power of a protogenoi isn't so easily undone," he murmured, rising slowly from his seat to glide gracefully beside his wife and their precious child.
The king of the Titans allowed his sorrowful eyes to roam over his son's delicate features, etching each detail into his memory with fervent intensity. As he brushed his cold hands through the boy's tousled hair, he felt a bittersweet pang in his chest when he noticed his son's face scrunching in agitation at the chill of his touch. For a fleeting moment, a small smile broke through Kronos's otherwise stoic expression—a rare glimpse of warmth hidden beneath the weight of his kingship. Yet, just as swiftly, the mask of the Titan Lord reasserted itself, concealing the softness that lingered within.
"Rhea, the longer we delay, the worse it'll get." The Titan queen looked sharply at her husband, her eyes filled with defiance. That defiance gradually faded as she saw the pain behind her lover's gaze.
The slayer of Ouranos gently cradled his son, who lay nestled in the arms of his wife. Her embrace was tight, and tears streamed down her cheeks, each drop echoing the profound sorrow in her heart as she whispered tender, sweet nothings to their beloved child, her voice a fragile lullaby. With fierce yet gentle determination, the Titan Lord tucked his son securely into his strong embrace, ensuring the soft furs cocooned him in warmth and safety. As he made his way out of their intimate refuge, he cast one last glance at his distraught wife. Her haunting sobs faded into the background like a distant melody, swallowed by the ominous crash of the massive stone doors of the Mount Orthrys throne room shutting behind him, sealing away the warmth and anguish of their shared moment.
Standing alone in the vast, echoing throne room, the mighty king of the Titans looked down at his child. The boy stared back with wide, accusatory eyes that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of his soul. This look struck the Titan king with a force greater than his wife's desperate tears, creating a moment of hesitation that stretched into what felt like an eternity. The air was thick with unspoken words and heavy emotions. After what felt like an age, he summoned his resolve and pressed a tender kiss to his son's forehead, his heart pounding in his chest. In that instant, a brilliant flash of golden light enveloped the child, whisking him away and leaving a warm glow that settled in the king's stomach—a bittersweet reminder of the bond that had just been severed.
In the dark throne room of Mount Orthrys, the Titan king fell to his knees. Unseen by anyone, a single tear rolled down his cheek—the only fragment of emotion he allowed himself.