As Jen cried her eyes out on Hip’s chest in the Fields of Asphodel, she allowed herself to fall into the deep boon of sleep. She hadn’t slept in weeks, so it didn’t take long for her to find herself in the Dreamworld.
She stood on top of a cloud in a haze of purple and orange.
Hip moved beside her and whispered, “Really? Of all places, a cloud? I thought we’d be back at your family’s ranch in Colorado.”
“Figment, I command you to show yourself,” she said.
Hip rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think you, of all people, would get the real thing?”
“Just making sure.”
“Come on. I want to show you something.”
He took her hand and led her across the cloud from the gates of horn toward the gates of ivory.
Jen stopped. “Why are we going through there?”
“I want you to see Muggie’s dream. He’s created an amazing fantasy that will never come to be. Come check it out.”
Jen followed Hip into a thick beam of bright purple light, which she recognized as the portal through which a god could travel from one person’s dream to another. On the other side of the beam, green grass spread out before them, and running through the grass in his new clothes and shoes was Muggie. A figment in the form of Muggie’s brother ran beside him, and the two boys were laughing and chasing butterflies.
“Just watch,” Hip said. “He’ll do it again.”
“Do what?”
Hip pointed.
At that moment, Muggie jumped into the air and transformed into a butterfly.
“Did he do that, or did you?” Jen asked.
“He did it. He controls his own dreams, better than anyone I’ve ever known before.” Then Hip added, “Watch what he does next.”
Jen sucked in air as she watched Muggie transform from a butterfly back into himself, but with wings. The butterfly wings flittered from his back and flew him up toward a rainbow in the sky.
“How can he do that?” Jen asked.
“He probably has a divine ancestor somewhere down the line, like Therese.”
Jen had forgotten that Therese was a descendant of Eros—which meant she was also a descendant of Aphrodite and Ares, and, of course, Zeus. Maybe that was why it was easier for Therese than it had been for Jen to transition into the life of a goddess.
“This is cute,” Hip said. “Watch this. He has a thing for Iris.”
Sure enough, a figment in the form of Iris slid down the arch of the rainbow and right into Muggie’s outstretched arms. The two were about the same size, and Iris’s face had been made younger-looking, like a toddler’s. Then the two flew down and each took one of the brother’s hands, lifting him into the air. The brother sprouted his own set of wings. Together, they flew from one end of the rainbow to the other with the butterflies trailing behind them.
“Such a beautiful scene,” Jen said in awe.
“Now watch me test him.” Hip took Jen’s hand and led her across the rainbow, after the three flying figures and their flapping wings.
Hip leaned back on Aether’s couch with the cup of wine in his hand and waited for the god of the upper air to speak.
“It’s a heartbreaking tale, Hypnos. I dread to tell it.”
Hip made no reply but took a drink of his wine.
Aether put down his empty cup and refilled it from the bottle. “After my son, Uranus, deserted me, I was alone for many years, until Uranus’s daughter Tethys bore the many Nephelae.”
“The cloud nymphs.”
“Yes.” Aether swirled the newly poured wine in his cup. “Back then, they used to fly in their billowing white robes from the seas to the skies, refreshing themselves before raining down their gift of water on the lands.”
“But now Iris refills the clouds with water.”
“Since the punishment of Prometheus, yes.”
“Prometheus?”
Aether nodded. “A sister to the Nephelae, Clymene, bore Prometheus, along with his brothers Epimetheus, Menoetius, and Atlas.”
“Yes, I’ve met them all.” Hip cringed at his memory of how Menoetius and Atlas had attempted to overthrow the Olympians last year. The feeling of being trapped in Circe’s bed, helpless to stop his brother from delivering the helm to Atlas, still haunted him.
“Then you know that Prometheus and Epimetheus sided with the Olympians during the war and, after, were given the duties of making the animals and humanity, yes?”
Hip nodded. “They say Epimetheus gave all the good gifts to the animals.”
“Indeed,” Aether said. “The humans were left with no fur, no horns, nothing. They remained in our image.”
“Which isn’t too shabby, you have to admit.” Hip sat back and crossed one leg over the other.
“No, but without our powers, they had little means of protecting themselves from the elements. So Prometheus gave them fire, and all was well until Zeus demanded that people offer the gods a sacrifice.” Aether took another swallow of his wine and lifted the bottle in the air. “More?”
Hip shook his head. “So what does all this have to do with your story?”
Aether poured himself another cup. “You see, Prometheus loved his people more than he loved Zeus. You can’t blame him, really. Zeus had just trapped most of Prometheus’s family in Tartarus.”
“Prometheus helped him do it.”
“He knew it was either that or be trapped himself. He wasn’t stupid.”
“The same can’t be said for his brother, Epimetheus, and he sided with Zeus, too.”
“Touché, my friend. Touché. But the difference between them was that Prometheus was genuinely clever and genuinely kind-hearted, and he had a soft spot for humankind. In fact, the only reason his brother sided with Zeus was because Prometheus begged him to. Prometheus begged all of the Titans to throw down their weapons and join Zeus, but only Epimetheus could be persuaded.”
“You sound fond of him.”
“I loved Prometheus more than I did any of my own sons.”
“And now?”
“After Hercules freed him, Prometheus shunned the gods to live on earth among mortals. I used to keep track of him, but I don’t anymore.”
“I see.”
“When Zeus demanded a ritual sacrifice to keep humanity subservient to the gods, Prometheus tricked him. Did you know that?”
“Of course. Every god knows that story. Prometheus put the best meat in the stomach of an ox, and then he wrapped a bunch of bones with glistening fat. He made the good meat look unappetizing and the bones tasty. Then he asked Zeus to decide which sacrifice humans should make to the gods.”
“And as you know, Zeus was fooled into choosing the bones.”
“And he was pissed. Do you blame him?”
“I wouldn’t have demanded the sacrifice of humanity in the first place,” Aether said. “The gods already have everything they need.”
Hip took a sip of his wine and gave Aether’s answer some thought. The god was right. Why did Zeus even make the demand? Insecurity, Hip supposed. Zeus needed a sign that the people feared him.
Aether cleared his throat. “So to punish Prometheus, Zeus took fire away from humanity.”
“But Prometheus stole it back.”
“I know. I gave it to him.”
Hip lifted his brows. He hadn’t known that.
Aether made his hands go ablaze, like that day he had cauterized Hip’s flesh, after the Giant had severed Hip’s arm.
“I lit a torch and gave it to Prometheus. I encouraged him to save humanity. From up here, I could see their suffering. They were freezing and starving to death.”
“Does Zeus know?”
“I’m sure he suspects it.”
“So that’s why you keep to yourself?”
“Yes and no.”
There was that phrase again. Hip absolutely hated it. “Go on.”
“Zeus is impulsive. He doesn’t often think before he acts. It’s a good thing he has the council of the other Olympians to keep him in check, to some extent. So, yes, I stay away partly from fear of incurring his wrath.”
“Only partly?”
“I also don’t like him. I don’t like the way he rules. I don’t like how he treats people and the other gods. I don’t want to have anything to do with him or his allies.”
“I see.”
“I only saved your arm because you needed help, and I could give it. I never intended to become fond of you.”
Hip didn’t know what to say.
“When Zeus chained Prometheus to that rock and ordered the eagle to eat his liver, every day, indefinitely, I felt as though my heart was being eaten, too.”
Hip frowned. He knew what that felt like—having his liver eaten by Zeus’s eagle. He shuddered at the memory. He’d only had to endure it once. He couldn’t imagine having to endure it day after day, for years.
“The Nephelae and I were flying around together when we heard the frantic clang of chains. We flew to the rock where Prometheus was held prisoner, and he spoke to us. He was terrified, and there was nothing I could do to set him free. Even my fire couldn’t melt the adamantine cuffs on his wrists and ankles. All we could do was watch in horror when the bird came and doled its punishment.”
Hip’s mouth went dry, but his stomach was suddenly too nauseated for wine.
“We cried and screamed with him that day, and for many days after. But after months of this agony, we could no longer bear it. The cloud nymphs flew as far away as they could and refused to return to the sea. I found this cave—it’s the furthest point I could find from where Prometheus was chained.”
So that’s why Iris had to take over the refilling of the clouds. Hip had always wondered about that.
“I felt so guilty for abandoning Prometheus that, when Hercules finally set him free, I couldn’t face him.”
“You never spoke to him again?”
Aether shook his head. “Like I said, I watched over him for many years—hundreds of years—before I gave up on that.”
“It’s never too late, you know? You could still try to speak to him.”
Aether shook his head and took another drink of his wine. “There’s one more piece of the story.”
“Oh?”
“Prometheus was also known to have visions, like Apollo. He told Zeus that if he consorted with Thetis, his son would overthrow him. So Zeus avoided her. But when Zeus didn’t bother to set him free, Prometheus decided to keep his visions to himself.”
“I thought he foretold the prophecy about Metis, Athena’s mother. Metis would bear a son that would overthrow Zeus.”
“He did. But he didn’t tell Zeus until Zeus had already consorted with her. Prometheus did not foresee what Zeus would do next.”
Hip rubbed at his forehead. Should he believe all that Aether was telling him?
“When Zeus swallowed Metis whole, along with the unborn Athena, Prometheus felt responsible. It’s another reason he wanders the earth among the mortals.”
The two sat in silence for many minutes. Hip stared at the fire beneath the mantle. Back in the Dreamworld, he’d been testing Muggie, to show the boy’s powers to Jen. But now he needed to be calm and quiet. He took Jen’s hand and led her back to her own dream, and there he brought forth a figment in the form of Muggie, and he gave himself and Jen the happily ever after that he could only hope would come to pass.