“If I look at you, I might do something I regret.” Rhea kept her face purposefully turned away from Prometheus.

“You’re taking this too far, sister.”

“Oh, am I? and which one of us told me to defy the king of the gods? Which one of us made me put my neck on the line so some helpless worm could—how did you put it?— ‘overthrow Cronus and rule at my will.’? You don’t know what I’ve gone through for this. And for what? A tiny, worthless, lump of work. Have you any idea how much work that child takes?” that made Prometheus smile in spite of her anger. He did, in fact know how much work a child requires. “I just can’t do it anymore.” Rhea continued.

“You’re committed now.” Prometheus did not feel sorry for the queen’s predicament. She would get used to the task, as he had, and he was confident that she would grow to feel about her child as he had about his.

Rhea snorted, “Committed.” She scoffed, “You’ll pay for this, Prometheus: my life was perfect before you talked me into wanting more.”

She turned away and walked to a window. They were in her private receiving room—not by her invitation, Prometheus had decided that it was high time he check up on her and so she had been unpleasantly surprised to find him waiting in her room on Olympus when she entered—a massive colonnade with a large window that seemed custom made to awe her company with it’s view. Even Prometheus felt its effect.

“You’re a fool, Prometheus. I could turn you in for your sedition right now.”

Prometheus deigned not to answer that one. Even Rhea wasn’t so stupid as to think she could turn him in without implicating herself. He had spoken, she had acted, neither would receive a light punishment, but her fate would be pounds to his pebbles. She may even, perish the thought, get the white room.

“I take it my nephew is doing well, then?” He asked instead.

“Healthy.” Rhea spat. “He’s very healthy.”

“Where are you keeping him?”

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Rhea’s eyes immediately narrowed and she again shifted slightly away from Prometheus so that he couldn’t read her face too clearly.

“As if I would tell you.” She sniffed. “You won’t get me that easily.”

Prometheus sighed. In fairness to his godly mess of a sister, there would be no way for her to understand his motives seeing as he hadn’t even told her of the existence of his child, to say nothing of the location.

“You’ve already sucked me into this mess,” Rhea continued, “and now you think to steal my Zeus for yourself so that you can usurp my place as the power ruling through him.”

“Zeus?” Prometheus was, perhaps not surprised at the name so much as at the fact that Rhea had the initiative to name him at all.

“Yes Zeus.” Rhea was silent for a moment before saying, in a deadly quiet voice, “I will see this through, brother, but if it goes wrong, you will pay the price with me.”

“I never doubted that for a second.” Prometheus shrugged—an odd gesture on a God.

Rhea pursed her lips and gave him a thoughtful stare.

“What is your stake in this? I’ve known you for seven thousand years, you wouldn’t put yourself in this much danger without some compelling reason. In this case, it would have to be a very compelling reason given how long you’ve focused on it.”

“I must protest.” Prometheus said with mock injury in his voice. “I have no lack of focus.”

“Oh please,” Rhea replied. “You have the attention span of an adolescent squirrel. The only knowledge more common than that is what to do with an ingrown toenail. So what is it that’s kept you fixated for so long? What’s your long game here?”

Prometheus laughed. “I have my reasons.”

“What reason?”

“The most compelling reason there is.” He paused to wink at her for antic effect. “Boredom.” He said with an affected air. “I’ve been bored out of my immortal mind for the last five thousand years. This seemed like a good change of pace.”

Rhea flitted her eyes from his head to his feet several times while her jaw seemed to work over what he had said.

“There’s more to it than that.” She said.

“As if I would tell you.” Prometheus flashed her his biggest grin as he parroted her words back to her. “You won’t get me that easily.”

Rhea looked ready to add a Prometheus shaped splotch to the stunning view out her window.

“If you—”

“mess this up for you then we’re going down together,” Prometheus cut her off. “Yes. We already did this part.” He paused to look serious again. “Look, Rhea, I can promise you that I have no interest in ruling. My interest extends only insofar as I do not want Cronus to be in charge anymore. He’s cruel and he’s unpredictable. You have my word: you don’t have to worry on my account.”

“And what good is your word?” Rhea laughed bitterly. “What good is any of our words?”

Prometheus grimaced at the implication of the sentiment.

“This time,” He said seriously, “my word is good.” Then he flashed his trickster smile, unable to resist adding, “You have my word.”