“Come on, dad. You can’t expect me to believe a story like that.”

“I can and do. Look, Epimethius, the time will come when there will be more people, great cities of people, so many people that you could have lunch with a different one every day and never meet them all. But you must be pait—”

Prometheus was cut off by the musical sound of laughter from outside. It wasn’t the girlish giggles of nymphs, it was water falling over rocks and chimes in the wind.

“Stay here.” Prometheus told his son, though he knew he would be lucky if the teenager waited ten minutes before following him out to the field. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell the boy of Cronus’…interest in him. But, he had to try to keep him safe. Which, in this case room the form of adding an, “I mean it.” to his injunction, then finishing with, “I’ll just be a minute.”

He stepped outside over the somewhat sullen protests of his son to find three beautiful girls. He knew who they were, though he almost wished he didn’t.

“What business do the fates have with me?” He asked, barest hint of a tremble in his voice.

“We have come to congratulate you.” Said the taller one on the right. “You have done a great thing in the universe. You have brought justice to the gods.”

Prometheus’ eyebrows creased.

“Cronus will pay an eternity of pain for his unjust rule.” said the slender one on the left.

Prometheus felt his mouth go dry. He hardly dared to feel the unavoidable hope that blossoming in his chest. “You mean,” he spoke hoarsely, “that Cronus has been…”

“Overthrown by your prodigy, your Zeus, your brainchild, your plan.” The sister on the right, by far the most unsettling of the three smiled as though she had watched the whole thing unfold—which, of course, she had.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

The three sisters began at the beginning and told the story, how Rhea had grown impatient and finally taken Zeus off of the island of create somewhat immaturely, for one so young could hardly have hoped to defeat a Titan like Cronus, and presented him to the God King as a cup bearer. Cronus, with no reason to suspect his wife and taken by the beauty of the serving boy, had suspected nothing, readily drinking the wine that his new “cup-bearer” had brought. As when he had swallowed the stone, the erstwhile god-king’s voracious eating habits had once again driven him to folly. Downing the wine in a single gulp, he hadn’t realized until too late the presence of the terrible concoction that Prometheus himself had brewed. Five children and an infant sized stone later, Cronus’ abdominal walls were still spasming uncontrollably when the siblings effected their escape.

“It was quite the gruesome sight.” The slender fate said.

“You were there?” Prometheus asked. “Of course not.” The tall one snapped. “But we see everything.”

Of course, it had been a stupid question.

“So what now?” He asked instead. Is Cronus defeated? Has Zeus taken the throne?”

“There is yet a bloody conflict that will rend the earth in two. But you, oh Prometheus, you who set in motion that which is to be, you will be the seed that grows a forest. The outcome of the coming conflict will be yours to decide, so choose well: joy and torment, or torment and joy.”

Neither of those options sounded appealing.

“We have spoken.”

Prometheus tried to stop them, tried to ask more questions, but the three maidens gave their ethereal laugh with a twirl and vanished before he could.

Once he was sure they were completely gone, Prometheus gave a single long low whistle.

“Well that was…ominous.”

Prometheus jumped. Even though he had expected Epimethius to disregard his order, he still wasn’t prepared for the boy…er…man to be so close behind him.

“Epimethius!” Prometheus put on his shrillest, most outraged voice in a vain attempt to cover his startlement. “I thought I told you to stay inside.”

“Pigs, father, the fates knew I was in there, so it’s not like it would have made a difference.”

“That’s not true.” Prometheus said petulantly. “Only one of them knew you were in there.”

While technically true, that was a thin argument. It was because of the very unity of nature that the disconcerting young women were so powerful.

“So, a war then?” Epimethius raised an eyebrow. “That can’t be good.”

“No, it’s not.” Prometheus agreed. “But it’s also not unexpected.”

Then, with a shake of his head, he left to wonder why an entire pantheon of nearly omnipotent immortal beings had to be cursed with the unfortunate combination of idiocy and immaturity.