❝i'll set you up against the stars❞
together and at peace | axis powers hetalia | 900 words | greece ; mama greece | pg |
in which mama greece bestows knowledge upon her son in the only way she knows how.
for initials.
she seems aware, in her tone and gaze, that the stories she tells him will one day be only that-stories. the hundreds of years of history that her people have built up, creating explanations for the world and their own flaws, will soon become myths and tales that no one believes anymore.
and if they stop believing in the myths that form the core of her being, will they stop believing in her? and will she then cease to exist?
“mama?” herakles’ voice is thin and wispy with sleep as he calls out to her. “aren’t you going to tell me a story?”
her features, which had been scrunched together, brooding, immediately soften as she hears him. her full lips pull back in a gentle smile, and her green eyes look down at him adoringly.
“of course, herakles,” she says evenly, smoothing his thick curls back from his face. “any preference, tonight?”
“start at the beginning,” he says, earnestly. and so she does.
the gods are curious creatures, and yet so much of what they do can make sense to us, who are just as petty and jealous and passionate as they are. chronus, who ruled as king of the titans, was covetous of his power, so much so that each time his wife, rhea, gave birth, he devoured their children. five new gods were sealed this way-hestia, hades, demeter, poseidon, and hera.
but rhea was not simply chronus’ wife. she was the queen of the titans, a goddess in her own right. and she would not allow this to continue. so when she next bore a child, she tricked her husband, hiding baby zeus away from his father’s wrath. and she succeeded, even though it meant that when zeus grew up, he murdered his father and freed his siblings. rhea had been queen, but she gave forsook her own dominance so that her children would have a chance to rule.
“mama?” herakles asks dolefully.
“yes?”
“why did zeus have to kill his father? couldn’t he have been king without doing that?”
now, his mother bites down on her lower lip, unsure of how much she should explain.
“no, herakles,” she says finally, with a sigh. “that is what it is to rule-you can’t have two kings for one kingdom. and chronus never would have backed down; he would have fought zeus over and over again, never giving the olympians peace.”
“and rhea, too?” herakles continues. “she couldn’t still be queen, even though she helped zeus?”
she shakes her head. “you’ll find out one day, my son, that there is good reason why the queen is the wife of the king, and not his mother.”
“but why would she do that?”
“because,” she says softly, “a mother would do anything, even sacrifice her own glory, for the sake of her son.”
“keep going,” herakles prompts, after another moment of ponderance.
“my, my,” she replies wryly. “so demanding.” but she smiles, and continues.
mothers are not given a happy lot in our heritage. there was leto, who could not bear artemis and apollo on olympus nor on earth. there was always hera, whose jealousy consumed her so that she could not love her sons, hephaestus and ares. leda, who was punished by her husband for bearing zeus children more perfect than his. and of course, there was callisto.
she was a maiden of artemis, but zeus saw and desired her. she bore him a son, arcas, and incurred hera’s wrath. to protect her, zeus transformed callisto into a she-bear. but even after hera’s anger had quelled, zeus did not turn callisto back. many years later, her son, arcas, came upon her in the forest. a young hunter, he attempted to shoot her. only now did zeus did remember them, and set them both up against the stars as ursa major and ursa minor-only in the sky could they be together in peace.
“it was zeus’ fault,” herakles pouts. “if he loves callisto, why didn’t he remember to change her back?”
“i do not think that zeus had the capacity to love anyone,” his mother replies stiffly, and something personal flashes in her eyes. “men like that never do. they claim to, and seduce you, and once you have given yourself over to them, once you have loved them, they drop you and carry on.”
“...are you talking about papa?” herakles asks quietly. his mother averts her gaze, ashamed.
“you will soon learn, herakles, that there are many types of men in this world. if you can help it, i would have you be amongst those who are faithful to those they love.”
“i'll try, mama,” herakles says dutifully. “i’ll try.”
she tousles his hair and continues.
›››‹‹‹
sometimes he wakes up and forgets that she is gone. and then he remembers, and tries to clings to his memories, of her thick hair and rich voice, the feel of her hand sliding across his forehead, the smell of frankinsence that followed her everywhere.
but now he knows why she told him such stories. because he could not rise while she was still there, and she would have willingly sacrificed her glory for his sake. because he can step outside easily and see the stars, and remember that the only time they can be together, at peace, is when they both rest amongst them.
in which mama greece bestows knowledge upon her son in the only way she knows how.
for initials.
she seems aware, in her tone and gaze, that the stories she tells him will one day be only that-stories. the hundreds of years of history that her people have built up, creating explanations for the world and their own flaws, will soon become myths and tales that no one believes anymore.
and if they stop believing in the myths that form the core of her being, will they stop believing in her? and will she then cease to exist?
“mama?” herakles’ voice is thin and wispy with sleep as he calls out to her. “aren’t you going to tell me a story?”
her features, which had been scrunched together, brooding, immediately soften as she hears him. her full lips pull back in a gentle smile, and her green eyes look down at him adoringly.
“of course, herakles,” she says evenly, smoothing his thick curls back from his face. “any preference, tonight?”
“start at the beginning,” he says, earnestly. and so she does.
the gods are curious creatures, and yet so much of what they do can make sense to us, who are just as petty and jealous and passionate as they are. chronus, who ruled as king of the titans, was covetous of his power, so much so that each time his wife, rhea, gave birth, he devoured their children. five new gods were sealed this way-hestia, hades, demeter, poseidon, and hera.
but rhea was not simply chronus’ wife. she was the queen of the titans, a goddess in her own right. and she would not allow this to continue. so when she next bore a child, she tricked her husband, hiding baby zeus away from his father’s wrath. and she succeeded, even though it meant that when zeus grew up, he murdered his father and freed his siblings. rhea had been queen, but she gave forsook her own dominance so that her children would have a chance to rule.
“mama?” herakles asks dolefully.
“yes?”
“why did zeus have to kill his father? couldn’t he have been king without doing that?”
now, his mother bites down on her lower lip, unsure of how much she should explain.
“no, herakles,” she says finally, with a sigh. “that is what it is to rule-you can’t have two kings for one kingdom. and chronus never would have backed down; he would have fought zeus over and over again, never giving the olympians peace.”
“and rhea, too?” herakles continues. “she couldn’t still be queen, even though she helped zeus?”
she shakes her head. “you’ll find out one day, my son, that there is good reason why the queen is the wife of the king, and not his mother.”
“but why would she do that?”
“because,” she says softly, “a mother would do anything, even sacrifice her own glory, for the sake of her son.”
“keep going,” herakles prompts, after another moment of ponderance.
“my, my,” she replies wryly. “so demanding.” but she smiles, and continues.
mothers are not given a happy lot in our heritage. there was leto, who could not bear artemis and apollo on olympus nor on earth. there was always hera, whose jealousy consumed her so that she could not love her sons, hephaestus and ares. leda, who was punished by her husband for bearing zeus children more perfect than his. and of course, there was callisto.
she was a maiden of artemis, but zeus saw and desired her. she bore him a son, arcas, and incurred hera’s wrath. to protect her, zeus transformed callisto into a she-bear. but even after hera’s anger had quelled, zeus did not turn callisto back. many years later, her son, arcas, came upon her in the forest. a young hunter, he attempted to shoot her. only now did zeus did remember them, and set them both up against the stars as ursa major and ursa minor-only in the sky could they be together in peace.
“it was zeus’ fault,” herakles pouts. “if he loves callisto, why didn’t he remember to change her back?”
“i do not think that zeus had the capacity to love anyone,” his mother replies stiffly, and something personal flashes in her eyes. “men like that never do. they claim to, and seduce you, and once you have given yourself over to them, once you have loved them, they drop you and carry on.”
“...are you talking about papa?” herakles asks quietly. his mother averts her gaze, ashamed.
“you will soon learn, herakles, that there are many types of men in this world. if you can help it, i would have you be amongst those who are faithful to those they love.”
“i'll try, mama,” herakles says dutifully. “i’ll try.”
she tousles his hair and continues.
›››‹‹‹
sometimes he wakes up and forgets that she is gone. and then he remembers, and tries to clings to his memories, of her thick hair and rich voice, the feel of her hand sliding across his forehead, the smell of frankinsence that followed her everywhere.
but now he knows why she told him such stories. because he could not rise while she was still there, and she would have willingly sacrificed her glory for his sake. because he can step outside easily and see the stars, and remember that the only time they can be together, at peace, is when they both rest amongst them.