Fireside

Poseidon

This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.

They'd been saved from their father's belly, and were now free to roam the whole of Olympus and beyond. They each had their own pillars, their own thrones and homes to settle into. They had been given powers, which no other creature in and out of the mortal world could possibly compare to have.

And yet, Hestia felt like her whole world was falling apart.

She felt like this new home she had, with its golden ceiling and crystal walls, was a new form of prison. One which she could never escape from forever. At first she had been glad to receive the honor and duty of warming every mortal home. But when said source of warmth finally revealed to her the real cost of her burden, she had been devastated. She now held the power of fire in her hands, but the hearth at the very center of the room held her in its flames.

"We can still make it work."

A deep voice urged from behind her, one which compelled Hestia to look over her shoulder. To look upon the god whom she thought she would finally be spending her freedom with. The god whose unfortunate hand had drawn the liquid depths of the sea to rule. "But you got water, Poseidon. Water!"

"I know," the sea god stated, coming into the abode she was now to call her home. The sight of him walking through her golden doors brought even more sadness to her heart. It pained her to realize that his every entry would from now on always end in departure. "So what if it isn't compatible with fire?"

Hestia swallowed the lump in her throat, gathering all the courage and levelheadedness she could muster. "They're two completely different elements. Both can consume the other. One will die and the other will turn to vapor."

"Hestia—"

"No." She stopped him before he could move forward. If he took her into his arms now, if he kissed her like he once used to do while they waited for their rescue, she would lose herself completely. Her resolve to never give herself to him in matrimony would crumble, and what devastation the hearth had revealed to her would surely come true. "We cannot risk it."

Poseidon frowned, his thick brows bending towards irises of deep cornflower blue. His hair, a shade so black that it shone like blue in the sunlight, fell over his shoulders when he tilted his head. Then and there he resembled the element which he'd had the misfortune of claiming as his own. "What is there to risk?"

His question pierced Hestia like a knife between her ribs, for the images she'd seen among the dancing flames came back to her mind's eye.

It happened the day before, as she was setting the few things she now owned around the hearth. While arranging her assortment of items throughout her home, she took breaks to feed the hearth's flames. And during one of those breaks, she'd gotten the novel idea of practicing her command over said flames.

She never expected for the hearth to take on a life of its own, to display an intelligence even beyond what she herself possessed. First it showed her images of events gone by and events as they were. She'd seen her brother Hades enter the underworld, his new domain, with the aid of the ferryman who helped guard its entrance. She had seen Demeter venture into the mortal world, walking among fields of wheat and corn. Even Hera, who quite curiously hid behind a laurel tree while Zeus passed by.

But things had gotten quickly out of hand when Hestia realized that the flames proceeded to show her the events of the future, particularly the future which she wished for. She'd seen herself losing blood and water from between her thighs, and the child within her womb burning helplessly. And beside them wept the child's father, for he could do nothing but watch them suffer. She'd scrambled away from the fire and cried upon the floor in misery once her shock wore off. And come morning, she sent for the very god whose face appeared in the fiery vision.