Chapter 17: Poseidon doesn’t like Greek and Roman mythology

Chapter 17: Athena and Her Twin Sibling (3)

Hera and Rhea, cloaked in invisibility, slipped into the mermaid market unnoticed and dragged Poseidon out.  

"Agh! Hera, your hands are brutal! Stop pulling my ear!" Poseidon yelped.  

"I can't help it—your stupidity infuriates me. Shut up and follow me!" Hera snapped.  

She hauled him to an unnamed island where Hestia and Demeter were waiting, calmly sipping tea and critiquing the scene.  

"Nothing's changed," Hestia remarked.  

"No, Hera's gotten stronger. Look at those biceps," Demeter noted.  

"Hmm, probably toned from dealing with Poseidon," Hestia mused.  

Upon reaching the island, Hera released Poseidon's ear, crossed her arms, and demanded, "So, what's your plan?"  

"Plan for what…?" Poseidon mumbled.  

"For Metis! If you were going to deal with her, you'd have done it already. What are you scheming by just watching?"  

Hera's sharp question drew the gazes of all the goddesses on the island.  

They were united in protecting Metis and her children, making Poseidon's stance critical.  

"Hmm…"  

Poseidon, sensing their intent, plopped down cross-legged on the beach, groaning softly.  

'I don't really have a plan… but saying that will get me in trouble, right?'

Unaware of his thoughts, the goddesses grew tense at his silence.  

Hera, however, noticed something odd.  

The Poseidon she knew wasn't the type to be so evasive—he usually blurted things out recklessly, earning her wrath.  

"You… you don't actually have no plan, do you?" she asked suspiciously.  

Poseidon continued to hum vaguely, knowing that admitting the truth could get him pummeled.  

"Hmm…"  

The other two goddesses caught on.  

"He's got nothing," Demeter said.  

"Probably thinking, 'This is a big mess, so I'll just sit tight like always,'" Hestia added.  

"He doesn't use that head of his unless it's for war or battle," Demeter quipped.  

Rhea, feeling awkward amidst her children's banter, tried to defend Poseidon.  

She remembered him as a charismatic, powerful, and insightful god during the Titanomachy and against Pontus—one of the three chief gods alongside Zeus and Hades.  

"Aren't you being too hard on Poseidon? He successfully led wars during the Titanomachy and against Pontus," she said.  

Her daughters looked at their mother with pity, as if her maternal bias blinded her.  

"Mother, you still haven't opened your eyes," Hestia said gently.  

"Well, Poseidon does look impressive on the outside…" Demeter added.  

Meanwhile, Hera had grabbed Poseidon like a rat.  

"You idiot! Come up with a solution right now, or I'll bury you on this island and seal you away!"  

"Ow! Why are you doing this? This has nothing to do with you!" Poseidon protested.  

"Unfortunately, it does. Mother Rhea, my sisters, and I have decided to side with Metis," Hera declared.  

As Hera kicked him, Poseidon was stunned.  

'Hera? Siding with Metis? Why?'  

He could understand Rhea, Hestia, and Demeter—they'd always felt compassion for those suffering injustice, the last vestiges of conscience in Greek mythology.  

But Hera? She was a cold-blooded goddess who could cut off anything—or anyone—unnecessary, even family, much like Zeus.  

Growing up in Kronos' belly, she'd never nurtured soft emotions.  

"Your expression says it all," Hera said, reading his thoughts.

"It's not that I pity Metis. But saving those children will solidify my divine role as the protector of family and children, thanks to Eileithyia's birth. With that, I'll stand as Zeus' equal in power and status one day."  

She raised her scepter, glancing at the sky with a satisfied smile, envisioning her future.  

Poseidon nodded, finally understanding her motives.  

Rubbing his arms as if chilled, he said,

"Of course. You, having the same soft heart as Demeter and Hestia? That'd be a sign of the apocalypse."  

Crack!  

Hera's temple throbbed with a vein, and she gritted her teeth, unclenching her fist.  

"You need to learn some respect and manners for your elder sister."  

"W-Wait, don't come closer!"  

"Nonsense."  

Kyaaa!

Poseidon's scream sent birds scattering into the sky.  

Hestia and Demeter, unfazed by the familiar scene, leisurely brewed tea and served Rhea, paying no mind.  

"There they go again," Demeter said.  

"I told you we shouldn't let Hera take the lead," Hestia sighed.  

"She's always complaining about being busy, but she spends so much time on Poseidon," Demeter added.  

Rhea glanced at her calm daughters, then at Poseidon getting beaten like a dog on a hot summer day, and let out a hollow laugh.  

"Ha. Ha. Ha."  

'I've misjudged my children. They're so different from how they are in Olympus…'

***

Poseidon, his face swollen like a steamed bun, raised his hand weakly.  

Hera, panting from exertion, took a moment to catch her breath.  

"Huff… huff… huff… Now, speak. What's your plan?"  

"Uh… maybe we should rest and discuss this together?"  

As Hera pressed him in the chaotic situation, Rhea was about to intervene when Poseidon spoke up.  

"Uh… Hera, you need a justification, right? There's no way to twist the prophecy outright, but a flimsy excuse might be enough to convince others."  

"…"  

The goddesses fell silent, stunned by his sudden suggestion.  

His swollen, bun-like face and raised hand were comical, yet his unexpectedly reasonable idea caught them off guard.  

Rhea and the others deemed his opinion worth hearing.  

Hera nodded for him to continue, and Poseidon, subtly lowering his arm, picked up the tea Hestia had brewed and spoke.

"Look, the prophecy says this child will unite all gods and mortal races, usurping the father's throne. Since Zeus' throne is that of the king of the gods, it's about taking his place. But here's the thing—if we make the child a legitimate heir, usurping the throne becomes much harder," Poseidon explained.  

"…"  

"Who would support a legitimate heir overthrowing their father? And later, just let Zeus give up the throne. He can sit above it all, like the Protogenoi do now—an emeritus king, so to speak."  

The goddesses fell silent at Poseidon's proposal.  

It had flaws, but as a justification, it wasn't bad.  

'See? With an idea like this, don't we have something worth trying?'  

That was the gist of it.  

"It's not a bad idea," Hestia admitted.  

"Right, what matters to us is persuasiveness," Demeter agreed.  

"And for injustices like this, the Olympus Divine Authority Committee should step in, like a raging bull," Hera added.  

"Huh? What's that?" Poseidon interjected, confused by the unfamiliar term.  

But the goddesses ignored him and dove into their discussion.  

As Poseidon suggested, what they needed most was a justification—a reason to support Metis.  

Poseidon, as a direct party and akin to an independent king, could act unilaterally.  

The goddesses, however, were in an ambiguous position within Olympus—neither fully insiders nor outsiders.  

This was precisely why they sought Poseidon's help.  

'Ugh, Hera. She could just talk things out, but ever since we were kids, she's always resorted to fists when she's embarrassed or at a disadvantage. And what's this 'Olympus Divine Authority Committee' nonsense?'

Truthfully, if Poseidon didn't need the goddesses, he wouldn't have tolerated Hera's rough treatment.  

He really wouldn't have.  

What he didn't know was that Hestia and Demeter had arbitrarily appointed him as the advisory chairman of this so-called "Olympus Divine Authority Committee," setting him up for future headaches.  

***

While Poseidon and the goddesses aligned their plans, Metis, inside the palace, grew increasingly anxious and unstable.  

Having experienced Kronos' terror firsthand, she was consumed by the pressure to protect her children.  

Zeus' thunderclaps echoed vividly even within the palace.  

Watching Athena and her younger sibling grow rapidly day by day, Metis couldn't predict how long she could hold out.  

"My babies, my dear children. Mommy will protect you. Don't worry," she whispered, clutching them tightly.  

Obsessively reinforcing the palace's magical defenses, she passed each day in mounting tension.  

***

Though Poseidon had aligned with the goddesses, he couldn't simply declare protection for Metis and her children without broader support.  

The goddesses agreed on this point.  

At the very least, the gods loyal to Poseidon needed to understand and consent, as Poseidon and the goddesses alone couldn't fend off both Zeus and Hades' forces.  

A council of sea gods was convened, led by Poseidon, Amphitrite, and Eurynome, with nymphs, gods, and mythical creatures of the sea in attendance.  

Despite their lack of association with fire, their passions burned fiercely.  

"Lord Poseidon, they must be dealt with. They're nothing but seeds of discord!" one argued.  

"But Lord Poseidon made a vow to protect them!" another countered.  

"That was when they weren't a threat. Feel the power coming from the palace—newborns with that kind of strength!"  

"Exactly! Metis swore on the Styx, not her children!"  

"But they're still young gods. Killing them is too much."  

"You're right. Besides, the prophecy doesn't guarantee a threat to us. It's only a threat to the chief god of the heavens, isn't it?"  

"Still, the possibility exists."  

As the meeting dragged on, opinions among the lesser gods and creatures split evenly, despite Poseidon and the major deities holding back.  

Those advocating elimination feared another war, still scarred from the conflict with Pontus, and felt unprepared for another.  

The opposing side argued that the children were young gods and that tarnishing Poseidon's name by breaking his vow was unacceptable.  

Having declared protection in his name, the entire sea was obligated to safeguard the children.  

Curiously, Hera, Demeter, and Hestia—who had joined the meeting as guest observers to voice their stance—remained silent.  

Or rather, they couldn't speak.  

The debate was far more heated than expected, with clear lines drawn between sides.  

It had escalated into a dispute requiring a definitive stance from a universally respected ruler, not just powerful figures or outsiders.  

Yet Poseidon, unlike his usual self, listened to the arguments with an expressionless face.  

Three figures felt the greatest unease: Oceanus, Metis' father, and her sisters, Styx and Doris.  

They knew that Hera, Hestia, and Demeter's persuasion had swayed Eurynome and Amphitrite, the sea's most influential figures, toward considering Metis' survival.  

This had tipped the scales to the current stalemate.  

Before their intervention, the majority had favored eliminating the potential threat.  

Amphitrite, who had initially rejoiced at Metis' pregnancy more than anyone, now chillingly advocated for eradicating the threat to Poseidon and the sea—a stance so terrifying it could haunt dreams.  

'Please, let Poseidon choose mercy…'

Poseidon, silently observing the debate, rang a bell.  

Ding, ding.

"Everyone, calm down. I want to hear from those most closely tied to Metis. Oceanus, what's your opinion? Do you truly believe, like many here, that Metis' children should be killed?"  

"I…"

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