Earthen Walls of Brewing Doubts

The moon was bright, and the tide was high. In the gleam of the moonlight down at the shore of Thessaly, sat a young princess, bare-bottomed as the waves brushed past her. Yet she feared no chill of both the night and the ocean. There had always been a calling to her, as though the sea felt like somewhere she belonged. There was an unspoken comfort coming from the sea that she always frequented the shore whenever she wasn’t tied down with the responsibilities of a princess. Her family had always prayed to Poseidon, the God of the Sea, in order to keep their kingdom’s trade ever flowing with calmer seas. Perhaps, she thought, there is more to this affinity than just sheer devotion and respect. She could feel the waves lapping around her, making most of her chiton soaked to the bone. Groaning in annoyance, she removed it, and placed it beside her. She moved lower into the sea, letting the water wash her whole being. Feeling enveloped by the water lapping against her bare breasts and thighs, irritating at first, for the sand that floated about was the first to meet them. Yet as more waves passed, she felt only comfort, and somehow she was at peace. She kept brushing the water into her bosom, as she willed for her body to sit still, her rump burrowing itself against the sand. And then she swore she was dreaming. The waves seemed to move in ways unlike what they normally did. Iphimedeia blinked again. Was she seeing things? Nay, she thought, as she was slowly feeling her eyes droop shut. Yet there was an unmistakable aura, as she felt arms grasp her body. What she could see was only a haze, but she almost welcomed it. Perhaps she was indeed dreaming, that she was engaging in love with the god of the sea himself. The eyes were a deep blue and the unmistakable trident symbol on his crown. She knew she would thank the gods and give them all the offerings, for she loved him so, and selfishly wanted him for herself. Alas, she knew that it was not to be, for she had a family to serve. Her own uncle was her own husband, a fact that was sadly commonplace. What can she do? All she can do is enjoy this moment, as she felt his hands trailing down her body, her waist, and most of all… If they made love now, any offspring from this union would be a joyous one indeed. — Iphimedeia had only the name Poseidon on her lips often, and it filled her with a sense of pride. That she was able to somehow seduce the god himself. Aloeus did not think much of it, but he figured since he himself was sired by Poseidon, he figured no harm would come to the family if he decided to bless them more. And bless them he did. He could already recognise by now the signs that his wife was once again with child, but what puzzled him was how much her womb had grown in barely a few short months after the fateful encounter with what she claimed to have been Poseidon. Maybe as godlings, they grew faster and larger? Iphimedeia, fortunately, was no stranger to large pregnancies, since her first two children, Platanus and Elate were both of greater stature as well, having been rather hefty even when out of the womb. She delighted in the prospect of a child, or children, fathered by a god. Yet the journey was painful, for when the months passed, she could barely walk and had to be sentenced to lying-in early on to accommodate her comfort. The day of the child’s arrival was almost due, and already Iphimedeia felt the pangs of birth coming forward. She murmured weakly so that Eilethyia would soothe her pains. When the midwife had come by alongside the many servants, she had announced that there was more than one child within her. Much to her surprise, and to her gratitude to the gods, it helped her push on. Several difficult hours had passed, and Iphimedeia had welcomed a pair of twin boys into the world. They were seen as handsome as they were strong, considering it had taken quite a while for Iphimedeia to have gone through the pangs of birth to two very heavy-set babes. They named the twins Otos and Ephialtes. Otos, for he was insatiable, and often hungered for his mother’s milk. And Ephialtes, a nightmare to be around, for his screams wake the dead of the night. Aloeus did not mind it at all, and kept this as a blessing, which he hoped would earn more privileges in his kingdom. — Though it was seen as a bit of an oddity, the Thessaly royal family hardly had a problem with their ilk. Even Platanus and Elate were also of larger stature, and they were in the same way, elated that their brothers also had the same way of growing. However, it came to their attention that they grew a lot faster than them. Seven years had passed and all has been well with them all, the differences doing little to keep themselves with perpetual frowns. They dined, they played, they laughed. All until a question was asked. “Do you think the gods on Olympus would approve of us?” For a child to have asked that question, it was almost treason to think that. “We are descendants of Poseidon, we should not fear the Olympians above,” Aloeus replied. “He will have our back, whenever Zeus thinks of our existence as wrong.” “But we’re different, not like normal humans…when we approach them, they run!” Elate cried sadly. “Well, that is their own problem for now, seeing past size,” Iphimedeia replied with a scoff. “We aren’t humans, my dear. We are giants, and they should be afraid of us.” “But…” Planatus trailed off before she was interrupted. “We can show them, Father,” Otos said simply. “We can just bring a mountain and throw it at Mount Olympus!” Aloeus laughed. “That will be quite the feat, my son. But I am sure, one day when you are older, you will have the power to do so.” “Then maybe we can find some of the pretty goddesses to make our brides,” Ephialtes said with a grin. “We are the children of Poseidon, they won’t dare to mess with us.” Otos laughed louder. “Now, you two. You will have all the years of life to do so once you have grown a shadow over and under your lips.” Aloeus said heartily. “But Father! What if we can start now?” Otos asked. “You can test your strength, my boys. There is no better opportunity,” said Iphimedeia. “Yes, thank you, Mother!” cheered Ephialtes. In the corner of the palace, Aloeus’ second wife Eriboia sat quietly, watching the scene. She was but newly-wed into the household, and had already been tasked as nursemaid to princess Iphimedeia’s children, to which she was happy to do so. Yet the things discussed left a slightly worrisome feeling in her heart. And almost as if the divine could hear her thoughts, the tides started to stir slightly. ======= The armoury proved to be his favourite place to stay by his lonesome, if only for some peace and quiet. Ares loved his weaponry, and he would always make sure they were well maintained. Since his brother wouldn’t do it for him, he would have to make sure it was taken care of himself. Yet he could feel like the weapons understood him more so than any other god on Olympus. Aphrodite came close, but she had only managed to explore many of its physical aspects. His troubles, while he had aired it out now and then, were met with comfort, but his doubts still remained. Why was it when he had the domain of war and violence, he was almost always shunned? He shook his head, as he studied his reflection in one of his broken helms. Perhaps inside, he was as broken as it was. His face was almost always out of sorts. Be it littered with scars from old fights, or new wounds from carelessness. Ares never really cared for those, but lately, he was starting to feel a lot more doubtful about his appearance. His appearance drew fear and terror from those who approached him. They never dared to mingle with him, solely because of his temper. That was pretty much something he was known for, and despite the fact he could try, they never had much to talk to him about. That isn’t about warfare, violence and pretty women. Did they honestly think he was that shallow? Ares knew he lacked plenty, at least among those he would consider his half siblings, except for Aphrodite, but she might as well be amongst their kind. He wasn’t as beautiful as Aphrodite, as clever as Athene, as proficient as Hephaistos, as precise as Artemis, as perceptive as Apollon, as crafty as Hermes and as confident as Dionysos. War and violence did not need all those qualities he bemoaned that he lacked. He supposed if they wanted to maintain the narrative that he was the runt of the litter, but at least he still had a seat amongst them all, he would let it be. He grunted and put it aside, in favour of inspecting his other weapons. They were in good shape, thankfully, and that he was able to equip them for another fight. The last major fights were from the Trojan war, ironically enough, and it was almost a good number of years since then. No need to take up arms again. At least for a while, he hoped. — Yet it was difficult to ignore. The presence of two large mounds occasionally there at the foot of Mount Ossa should have been something to question right away. Yet, the denizens of that mountain thought of them a blessing sent by Poseidon and Demeter, who have both shaped the earth to have a stronger foundation there. It was until a lone traveller, who wanted to travel through Mount Ossa to get to his destination. He trudged up the mountain, careful to leave a lamb in offering to Demeter for providing the earth’s harvest. As he made his way up, he thought he felt the mountain move. Looking down, he wondered if it was just nerves. He kept on climbing, but the shaking only became more vigorous. “What on earth?” He cried, as he continued his way quicker. The shaking kept going at it. Was this an earthquake? “Please, Lord Poseidon! Calm your anger! I’ll offer you a sacrifice upon my return!” He screamed, as he held on for dear life, the rocks from above starting to fall around him. As he felt his hand slip from the rock he held for support, he fell all the way downwards, embracing a bush on his way down. From the corner of his eye, he could see the foot of the mountain, being vigorously dug through. In action were two great giants, working tirelessly at digging the surface. The youth couldn’t help but keep as still as possible, no matter how much he wanted to rear up and fight. “...once we finish, we can stack this on Mount Olympus! Sounds fun, doesn’t it, Brother Ephialtes?” “Yes! That would be delightful, Otos!” Even though they were gigantic, their laughter and manner of speech were still…childlike. Once the giants meandered out of sight, the youth got up to his feet, and left quickly, the faint smell of blood and smoke in his wake.