I hesitate briefly, this had once been my home, my safety in a dangerous world.
I take a breath and remind myself, as I had many times on the journey here, that Grandmother would welcome me. She always has.
"Gaia," I call out into the depths of the cave that I was raised in.
I do not have to wait long for her to materialize.
I wish that I could say I do not recognize her, but I had watched her slow deterioration throughout the long ten year war. This version of her is painfully familiar to me now. Her shoulders were ever slumped, as if permanently carrying a burden too heavy for her slight frame. Her eyes are glassy, almost lifeless. It is her hair that disturbs me the most, though.
When I was young, she had long twisting locks that held such a luster that even in their dark hue, one could only be reminded of the curving rivers that she loved so dearly.
Now, however, it was chopped to near its roots. Yet, somehow, the little length that survived hung limply around her skull.
"King Zeus," she greeted, voice flat, as she held a perfect courtesy.
I felt this chasm between us, the one that I did not know how to bridge, grown.
"Grandmother," I force all of the worry from my tone and instead infuse all of the warmth and affection that my voice can hold before grasping her arms and gently guiding her from her stance. "You shall bow to no man, least of all me."
I yearn for her embrace, one that was so familiar all of my youth, but has become foreign to me these last few years. I start to reach for her, but she once again withholds it as she steps away.
"What brings you back to this humble abode, my liege?"
"I have good news. I wanted to share it with you before all else. You see, Metis-"
"She is doing well, then?"
"Yes, you were right to bring us together. She handles the court well," I chuckle awkwardly, running a hand through my hair before admitting, "She handles me well."
"That is good news, indeed. Often there is little that can compare to the love between husband and wife. Surely, you do not wish to leave your new bride alone for long. Perhaps it is time for you to return to her side."
"Yes, of course," I can hear myself say, but it sounds hollow to even my ears.
I do not move, trapped in trying to find a way to bring us closer. This woman who raised me cannot now feel like a stranger.
After several minutes, it is her that breaks the silence, "Yet, you are still here."
It is not a question, but I feel it is all she will give me. "Yes." I try to respond, but it comes out raspy, weak, pathetic.
I clear my throat. "There is more to share, Grandmother."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Metis and I are expecting our first child. We want to show our respect and love for you by asking that you be the one to bless our young."
She is quiet, picking at the corners of her nails. I give her time to process. These last few years of change have been hard on her.
Metis had warned me that I cannot expect immediate delight from her. Even now, we are all still learning how to heal. Yet, in this instance I believe that I am right. Grandmother will warm to the idea, her love of children all encompassing. This is what we need to pull us back together. It is still hard to watch her take in this news with anything but glee.
Finally, she stills before smiling up at me. "Yes, Zeus, I am honored that you would ask."
The tension rolls off of my shoulders. That smile, one I haven't seen in far too long, reminds me of times when I was young and proud to master even the simplest of things. She had always had that smile ready, prepared to encourage and praise me for every little feat.
"There could be no one but you, Grandmother."
"Certainly, dear, now leave me to think. This blessing must not only honor this precious child, but also its parents and their journey to get to this point."
The corners of my mouth start to ache from the beaming smile I give her. Reassured ever the more by the life shining in her eyes.
I walk to the smoothed out slab that had once been my bed, lounging in the comforts of my childhood home until a peaceful slumber encompasses me.
Heart pounding, I fight the terror and confusion as I struggle to resurface to consciousness. The noise that had disturbed me sounds again. I sit up with a start, certain only that I am not alone. Glancing around frantically, I search for threats within the shadows, only to have my gaze land on that of my grandmother as she clears her throat for a third time.
Comprehension settles as I stare at her, anticipation replacing the dread of moments before.
"Zeus, King of Gods, I have seen that Metis now carries a daughter for you. In my love for you, I bless your unborn child with perfect health, beauty, and wisdom that out measures even her mother's." At her words, I can feel the smile stretching across my face. I had known that she could be trusted with such a monumental task. I listen closely as she continues, "I further proclaim that she will be your biggest asset, for within her is a loyalty to you that never dulls. I decree that she will be spared from the curse that is loneliness, for she will adore the younger brother that you and Metis provide for her, with the same intensity that she loves you. She will not have put her faith incorrectly, for he too will be blessed. I bless this male heir with looks that do not fade or cease to charm throughout all of time; I bless him with charism that will aid him in finding easy allies for any battle he may face; he will have power that surpasses that of you and all your brothers'; and lastly, I bless him with the destiny to rightfully sit upon your own thrown."
"You bless my children, but curse me? What have I done to you to deserve your betrayal?" My voice is calm and steady, not betraying the hurt and shock that I feel inside.
"One day you will understand that this is no betrayal. It is an enlightening. As much as I love you, I also love my children. You have condemned them for the choices your father made, certain that he could have chosen better. Now, Zeus, you are faced with those same choices. Maybe as you face this problem that each of the Kings before you have, you will learn to heal and forgive. Maybe, there will even be a chance that as a father, you will understand the importance of children, and grant mine back to me."
I had left stunned, in a daze too thick to penetrate, that even now, hours later, I cannot remember the journey home.
I sit at the head of the table, smiling when the laughter around me is deafening, I pass the wine when prompted, but I am not really here. I sit in body, surrounded by those I love, but my mind wanders back again and again to Gaia's cave.
I am vaguely aware of my brothers boasting to all that will hear of their battlefield prowess. Yet, I cannot help but think of how one day I will bring a force into this world that even together we cannot face. If they were to try to stand by my side, not influenced by the silken tongue of my future heir, then their destruction would be as certain as my own.
Numbly, I watch as Demeter raises her wine and begins to toast the heroic deeds of her best friend, my wife. Hearing her finalizing a tale of the skirmish they survived, back to back, I know that it is time for me to interrupt. It is tradition now for me to intrude before she has finished, prolonging the praise that my dear love receives. If this were any other night, I would grasp her hand in my own and proclaim to all that our victory would have been impossible without her. I would sing her praises while smiling onto her beautiful face until Gods and Goddesses cheered her name.
Yet, it was not in me to do so tonight. As everyone turns to me, expectantly, I give a small nod and half hearted smile of acknowledgement. There is a pause, heavy with awkwardness before Hades tactfully raises his own drink and recognizes the war efforts of the rest of our family. They take his lead, as they always had when they were imprisoned together.
It is a while yet after this relief that they break into drunken song. Ballads of great deeds sang as messy as the sloshing of their mugs. It is then that my wife squeezes my hand and nods towards the throne room.
I stand at once, bumping the edge of the table in my eagerness, but no one seems to notice. I suppose I wouldn't have cared if they did. They have all seen me come undone for wife before.
I walk briskly toward the room, hand-in-hand yet almost pulling her behind me.
I had not realized how much I had needed our sanctuary. The place where problems were conquered together through wisdom and compassion.
The value of my wife shined wherever she went, but never more bright than in this room. Beside me, she guided us all to prosperity, often seeing solutions that had been hidden from me.
She closes the door behind us, as I stare in relief upon our simple matching seats. Her's identical to mine, soothing me with their equality. I did not have to face this alone.
