The Stygian Marshes - Where Underworld Rivers Meet
After attacking Moros and Nyx, Styx had been sent away, only to meet her sister Klotho by accident (or fate) on the banks of her own river. It was there that she finally learned why she did not seem to be herself lately.
The truth was that Styx had gone through more within the last few months than she had in the last millenium. Losing track of time after returning to the Underworld for a while, she lost her Olympian lover Phobos to Klotho. On her return, and after great distress, Phobos chose Styx over Klotho. It seemed as if her love affair with Phobos were set up to be something long and lasting and strong and beautiful, and Styx could not have been happier about that, even if Phobos was a lot younger and an Olympian to boot. He was good to her. But then...
But then.
The feelings that she and Moros hid from each other and everyone else started getting in the way. Styx had done more than hide those feelings -- she had denied them, refused them. She was afraid of them. To love a Fate was dangerous at best, and ruinous at worst, for everyone concerned. So she had squashed her feelings down, shredded them, flattened them, sealed them in a vaccum, and buried them so deeply down inside her that she had to concentrate to remember that they were still there. She had done such a good job of forgetting about her love for her dearest brother, her closest companion, that no one (save the oldest of the Fates) knew about it. Until. Until Moros, after declaring that Phobos was not good enough for her, told her that he thought that Doom was.
Styx had known Moros cared, somewhere inside, but that knowledge, along with her own feelings, was shoved away, refused, blanked out. When Moros actually said it, it changed everything. She could not turn away; she began to see. The little things that she'd always shrugged at before -- Moros' set of water-decorated glassware, his silver ring with that one horizontal wave in it, the rune necklace he wore in ancient times that spelled out 'river' -- became more pronounced. And sometimes, in unguarded moments, Moros would look at her, and Styx knew. He loved her. He always had, almost since The Beginning. And slowly, slowly, recognition sent cracks through the centuries-thick defenses Styx built around her love for Doom. Despite her love for the God of Panic, their relationship was new. It had no chance... not in the face of the ancient connection she and Moros shared. It had been doomed from the moment Moros said those words, "I think I am."
Styx resolved to divorce Pallas. A divorce was not something that gods did, and it was especially strange for Styx, the keeper of oaths. But not only the Keeper of Oaths was she, but also a river. And rivers could only be divided so much before they fell. She finally managed to receive her wish, granted from her Dark Lord Hades - for a dreadful, hidden price. Had she known what Hades would exact from her in the future as repayment, Styx never would have asked.
That didn't mean that Styx stopped loving Phobos. She did love him, completely, totally, in the manner that was only known to gods and goddesses, she loved him. He reached her in ways that no one else had. Not even Moros. And she did not want to let him go, didn't want to hurt him. She wanted to stay. A Greek goddess such as Styx could expect to keep two lovers, but she believed Phobos too young to be able to manage this without insane amounts of jealousy; also, he'd given up Cloey for her on Styx's return, and Styx could not bear the unfairness of keeping them both. If that were not enough, she knew Moros would not abide her attentions being divided. And Moros, who had waited so very long to be with her, did not deserve competition.
And so came the dissolution of Phobos and Styx, and the beginnings of Styx and Moros.
After such a tulmultuous time in her personal life, she felt like she was finally getting control over things... Until Hades called. And what he asked for in return for her divorce was dark and terrible.
She was bound to assist him in his strange plans, by her own promise. And so she did, flooding the Underworld completely, overrunning her sibling rivers, and remaining there, covering their home with the overswelling of her own dark waters, coupled with the unnatural rainstorm Hades himself had called down onto the Underworld. But that wasn't all. There was a child to be created of her powers mingled with Hades. Amenomi The Underworld Flood, offspring of Hades and Hate, was not a child she had asked for, wanted, or even given assent to create, but she still loved her dearly. When Hades' plans fell through and the Flood had to be subdued, Hades took Amenomi as he had created her her -- without permission, without warning. Her child was slain by Hades' hand at the same moment he forced her back into her riverbed. It was a good thing that Hades did, truly, for the Underworld was never meant to be flooded. Hatred was never meant to be spread over such a vast area for so prolonged an amount of time.
But it ripped Styx up inside, all of it did. And there was nothing she could do. Hades gives; Hades takes away. Styx had not even had the chance to say goodbye.
Controlling the flow of five rivers within her, when Styx was meant to control the power of only one, was impossible. Her personal issues had not been enough to throw Styx off, but together with the things Hades asked of her, that was enough. During the Flood, Hades had provided Styx with an amulet to asisst in this necessity, but afterwards, Styx set this trinket aside. She no longer needed it, her logic dictated, now that she and her siblings were returned to their rightful places in their own riverbeds. And she had no desire to wear the gift of Hades longer than she had to. She didn't have to anymore.
How wrong Styx was.
Some of the power of her four other river-siblings had absorbed into her own being. Now it infected her like a sickness, breaking her control. Changing her from what she was meant to be, to something... wholly different. Styx needed help, and she needed it from her siblings. The very siblings that she had just overrun.
Standing now in the center of the Stygian Marshes, just where her own river joined with the rest of them, she surveyed their meres. She did not feel justified in calling them as family, so she called them as deities.
"Cocytus, Acheron.... Phlegethon, Lethe. Come and claim back that which is yours."
Surprisingly, it was Cocytus who rose first from his river. Cocytus, the river of wailing, transporter of murderers, the sulphuric dark brother who kept mostly to himself. He was unhappy with Styx, and she understood why. It had not been easy on any of them, but least of all Cocytus. He had not been to the mortal plane in a very long time, and he had nowhere to go when Styx overran him. No, it had not been easy for Cocytus at all.
"Styx," he grated out. And then, before she could respond, explain, apologize, anything, he was gone again, withdrawing all his power from her in one mighty, vicious pull. There was nothing gentle about it. It dropped her to her knees.
It was a fitting position for she who had so much to apologise for.
The truth was that Styx had gone through more within the last few months than she had in the last millenium. Losing track of time after returning to the Underworld for a while, she lost her Olympian lover Phobos to Klotho. On her return, and after great distress, Phobos chose Styx over Klotho. It seemed as if her love affair with Phobos were set up to be something long and lasting and strong and beautiful, and Styx could not have been happier about that, even if Phobos was a lot younger and an Olympian to boot. He was good to her. But then...
But then.
The feelings that she and Moros hid from each other and everyone else started getting in the way. Styx had done more than hide those feelings -- she had denied them, refused them. She was afraid of them. To love a Fate was dangerous at best, and ruinous at worst, for everyone concerned. So she had squashed her feelings down, shredded them, flattened them, sealed them in a vaccum, and buried them so deeply down inside her that she had to concentrate to remember that they were still there. She had done such a good job of forgetting about her love for her dearest brother, her closest companion, that no one (save the oldest of the Fates) knew about it. Until. Until Moros, after declaring that Phobos was not good enough for her, told her that he thought that Doom was.
Styx had known Moros cared, somewhere inside, but that knowledge, along with her own feelings, was shoved away, refused, blanked out. When Moros actually said it, it changed everything. She could not turn away; she began to see. The little things that she'd always shrugged at before -- Moros' set of water-decorated glassware, his silver ring with that one horizontal wave in it, the rune necklace he wore in ancient times that spelled out 'river' -- became more pronounced. And sometimes, in unguarded moments, Moros would look at her, and Styx knew. He loved her. He always had, almost since The Beginning. And slowly, slowly, recognition sent cracks through the centuries-thick defenses Styx built around her love for Doom. Despite her love for the God of Panic, their relationship was new. It had no chance... not in the face of the ancient connection she and Moros shared. It had been doomed from the moment Moros said those words, "I think I am."
Styx resolved to divorce Pallas. A divorce was not something that gods did, and it was especially strange for Styx, the keeper of oaths. But not only the Keeper of Oaths was she, but also a river. And rivers could only be divided so much before they fell. She finally managed to receive her wish, granted from her Dark Lord Hades - for a dreadful, hidden price. Had she known what Hades would exact from her in the future as repayment, Styx never would have asked.
That didn't mean that Styx stopped loving Phobos. She did love him, completely, totally, in the manner that was only known to gods and goddesses, she loved him. He reached her in ways that no one else had. Not even Moros. And she did not want to let him go, didn't want to hurt him. She wanted to stay. A Greek goddess such as Styx could expect to keep two lovers, but she believed Phobos too young to be able to manage this without insane amounts of jealousy; also, he'd given up Cloey for her on Styx's return, and Styx could not bear the unfairness of keeping them both. If that were not enough, she knew Moros would not abide her attentions being divided. And Moros, who had waited so very long to be with her, did not deserve competition.
And so came the dissolution of Phobos and Styx, and the beginnings of Styx and Moros.
After such a tulmultuous time in her personal life, she felt like she was finally getting control over things... Until Hades called. And what he asked for in return for her divorce was dark and terrible.
She was bound to assist him in his strange plans, by her own promise. And so she did, flooding the Underworld completely, overrunning her sibling rivers, and remaining there, covering their home with the overswelling of her own dark waters, coupled with the unnatural rainstorm Hades himself had called down onto the Underworld. But that wasn't all. There was a child to be created of her powers mingled with Hades. Amenomi The Underworld Flood, offspring of Hades and Hate, was not a child she had asked for, wanted, or even given assent to create, but she still loved her dearly. When Hades' plans fell through and the Flood had to be subdued, Hades took Amenomi as he had created her her -- without permission, without warning. Her child was slain by Hades' hand at the same moment he forced her back into her riverbed. It was a good thing that Hades did, truly, for the Underworld was never meant to be flooded. Hatred was never meant to be spread over such a vast area for so prolonged an amount of time.
But it ripped Styx up inside, all of it did. And there was nothing she could do. Hades gives; Hades takes away. Styx had not even had the chance to say goodbye.
Controlling the flow of five rivers within her, when Styx was meant to control the power of only one, was impossible. Her personal issues had not been enough to throw Styx off, but together with the things Hades asked of her, that was enough. During the Flood, Hades had provided Styx with an amulet to asisst in this necessity, but afterwards, Styx set this trinket aside. She no longer needed it, her logic dictated, now that she and her siblings were returned to their rightful places in their own riverbeds. And she had no desire to wear the gift of Hades longer than she had to. She didn't have to anymore.
How wrong Styx was.
Some of the power of her four other river-siblings had absorbed into her own being. Now it infected her like a sickness, breaking her control. Changing her from what she was meant to be, to something... wholly different. Styx needed help, and she needed it from her siblings. The very siblings that she had just overrun.
Standing now in the center of the Stygian Marshes, just where her own river joined with the rest of them, she surveyed their meres. She did not feel justified in calling them as family, so she called them as deities.
"Cocytus, Acheron.... Phlegethon, Lethe. Come and claim back that which is yours."
Surprisingly, it was Cocytus who rose first from his river. Cocytus, the river of wailing, transporter of murderers, the sulphuric dark brother who kept mostly to himself. He was unhappy with Styx, and she understood why. It had not been easy on any of them, but least of all Cocytus. He had not been to the mortal plane in a very long time, and he had nowhere to go when Styx overran him. No, it had not been easy for Cocytus at all.
"Styx," he grated out. And then, before she could respond, explain, apologize, anything, he was gone again, withdrawing all his power from her in one mighty, vicious pull. There was nothing gentle about it. It dropped her to her knees.
It was a fitting position for she who had so much to apologise for.