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They were all close once, the little godlings, in a time long forgotten. A time when air was limited and light was unknown. The only constant things were the blindness and the warm of the other
Sweet Hestia was the first to fall, her burning soul gave Cronus heart burn. Her fire was always burning, her rage was all demanding. But like every flame, without air they flicker out.
Mourning Hades was the next to join Hestia in the depths of their father. His quiet words were his only gift to the little flame. He could not provide comfort for long, every word he spoke left him gasping for breath, later all that he could give was his presence, to let her breathe.
Blessed Demeter joined not long after. Her arrival brought new life, a new dash of hope. She offered little plants to the elder siblings, and for a while they grew. This gift of hers let them rest without worry, but the turbulent stomach of their father quickly destroyed them.
Volatile Poseidon was the fourth child to be consumed by their father, and like the others he was not happy about it. His moods went by quickly, his rage could only be tempered by the embrace of another. The eldest brother was a silent figure, but a warm one. The sea could do nothing but cry in his arms for their dreadful fate.
Cow eyed Hera was the last. By the time she arrived, her siblings were fully grown. The others had accepted their fate, and so all they could do was hold little Hera in their arms. She did not grow quickly like the others, she did not embrace this prison as their only future like them.
The stomach of Cronus was not a pleasant place to be, much less live. It was hard to breath, impossible to see, difficult to live in. All that could be done back then was sit, sit and cry and mourn. They all dealt with their fate differently. Some raged but eventually were silenced by dread, some hoped for escape but drowned that believe with acid in their lungs.
The siblings only had each other. There were no warm hugs of a mother to ease their mental wounds, there were no gentle yet stern words of a father to guide them. Only a hushed flame, a silent shadow, a dying flower, and a Dead Sea. The only light left was kept in a child’s eyes, the only ones that would not remember this dark time in the future.
While they did not know much, they knew they enjoyed the gentle touch of hestia, hesitant but a constant presence. they welcomed the embrace of hades, a soothing place that let them rest. the presence of demeter always invigorated them with life, let them escape from the toxic fumes. poseidons words had granted them the desire for vengeance once more. the appearance of hera had let them grow once more, fueled their plan for escape.