"Oh? Let's hear it."
The Goddess of Wisdom slowed her steps, turned slightly, and sat back down across from him. Resting her cheek against her hand, she gazed at him with keen interest, as if prepared to listen.
"The Curse of Uranus doesn't target Kronos alone—it haunts the entire bloodline of the God Kings."
"The fate of patricide will never end. And now… you are pregnant… Your Majesty, Queen of the Gods."
Samael's eyes dropped to the swell beneath the loose gauze dress, his voice low and chilling.
Beside him, Themis—herself touched by the divinity of fate—opened her mouth as if to speak, but ultimately stayed silent.
"So, in your revelation, what is my end?"
Metis's gaze softened with maternal affection as her hand caressed the stirring life within her. Her lips parted in inquiry.
"You will be devoured… and become part of him."
Samael's warning was grave, his tone ominous.
To his surprise, the Goddess of Wisdom slowly lifted her head, her smile carrying a deeper meaning.
"Wouldn't that be better?"
"Child, what you left unsaid is this: he would never truly kill me. I would not die at all—I would endure in another form, sharing wholly in everything he is."
Samael's expression faltered. He stared at her radiant smile, a chill creeping down his spine.
He could sense that Metis's answer was sincere. But this love… wasn't it disturbingly twisted?
In that instant, the ancient serpent recalled a blood-drenched word—yandere.
"I told you long ago to stay away from the lunatics of the God King's bloodline! You knew no good could come of it, yet you still hurled yourself into the flames!"
"Are you mad? After all he's done to you, you still love him?"
The Goddess of Justice, Themis, who had raised this niece as her own, glared at Metis's blissful smile, her anger flaring.
"Of course I love him!"
"And if I wished it, my king would gladly carve out his heart for me."
The Queen of the Gods propped her chin like a mischievous maiden, smiling brightly at Themis—who had shed all her usual majesty in anger—her tone utterly serious and proud.
For reasons they could not explain, her confidence left both listeners without the slightest doubt in her boast or her judgment.
What's so great about a scoundrel like Zeus?
The ancient serpent grumbled inwardly, lips twitching as the image of the God King surfaced in his mind.
Fine. Handsome, powerful, silver-tongued, and shameless—he had it all. Plenty of women fall for that. Otherwise, how else could he have won so many goddesses as wives?
Suppressing his frustration, Samael cast a sidelong look at the fuming Themis, a dull ache stirring in his heart. So the fate goddesses weren't as common as cabbages after all.
The betrayal had come from behind. The stab cut deeper than expected.
All his warnings during her upbringing, and yet this rebellious foster daughter had charged on heedless.
Perhaps the two of them really did relish this twisted bond. Their way of thinking was incomprehensible—best to keep out of it.
Seeing her foster mother and teacher about to erupt, the Goddess of Wisdom swiftly shifted the topic. Her smile fell upon Samael, her tone dripping with subtlety.
"Child, if that's all you came to say, you're underestimating the gods—both him and me."
This family—every single one of them was trouble. No wonder Zeus, the sole Greek God King to escape the bloodline's Curse, had managed to preserve his reign.
The ancient serpent frowned, a headache pressing in.
Just then, the fiery Tina burst in, rushed to his side, and whispered animatedly with scribbled gestures.
Samael's brow gradually eased. He gently patted Tina's head, then turned back to the Goddess of Wisdom with renewed certainty in his gaze, murmuring softly,
"It seems His Majesty the God King is deeply concerned for your safety. He even sent a Hecatoncheires to patrol the marshes as your escort."
"You're still not giving up?"
Metis touched her forehead with a coquettish roll of her eyes. Her opinion of this child dropped further still.
If Olympus truly became their enemy, her aunt's life would be unbearable.
"Revealing that so-called outcome is just a favor repaid. From the start, I never intended to convince Your Majesty the Queen of the Gods to break with Olympus."
Samael's lips curved in a calm smile, his eyes clear and steady. Across from him, Metis arched a brow, her interest stirring.
"So, what are you really trying to say?"
The ancient serpent lowered his head, his gaze drifting to Metis's rounded belly as his voice came slow and deliberate.
"True, what happens between you and your husband behind closed doors is your affair…"
"But the child?"
The smile froze on Metis's face. Her lips pressed together, her expression dark and conflicted.
"Then perhaps it's time we finish the business left unfinished."
Samael's smile deepened, laden with meaning.
At his nod, Themis flicked her fingers. The golden scales upon her sword's hilt quivered, light flaring. In an instant, the four figures were drawn into a special barrier woven of starlight.
"You are a wife, but above all, a mother."
"Your Highness, you know what this life within you means to Zeus."
"Your earlier summons—for Themis or me to visit Olympus under the pretext of a game—was likely meant so we could stand by you in childbirth."
"Yet fate turned, and we were unable to aid you."
Samael's tone carried a faint trace of regret, as if he truly bore the resolve to face fire and blood for Metis. After a pause, his eyes turned toward the direction Tina had come from, their depths shadowed.
"And besides—this visit of yours isn't just about mediating for Zeus, is it?"
"Olympus holds the stronger hand. If this were only about goodwill, they would never send you, the pregnant Queen of the Gods, already near delivery, to come here yourself."
"With the war between old and new gods drawing to a close, this is likely your only chance to step outside before retreating to your new nest."
Metis's head lifted instinctively, her pupils narrowing—an unspoken confirmation of the ancient serpent's words.
In truth, Samael had been observing her ever since she entered. Though she appeared composed, there was a lingering prenatal anxiety between her brows. Several times, when she looked at Themis—her foster mother and teacher—she hesitated, words stifled before they could leave her lips.
Clearly, the Queen of the Gods bore a secret she could not voice.
Her earlier summons, timed with her due date, had likely been an attempt to reach Themis through Samael. And by her calm acceptance of her own fate, Samael could infer that this hidden burden was almost certainly for the child she carried.
She was a wife, but more than that, a mother.
The ancient serpent even suspected that her mission to reconcile Zeus and Themis was incidental at best. Her true purpose was to secure a future for her unborn child—and Themis, her foster mother, was the one she trusted most to bear that responsibility.
Yet in the end, Metis hesitated. Perhaps she simply couldn't entrust it. Or perhaps she didn't want to draw Themis deeper into conflict with Olympus, making her bear Zeus's wrath for sheltering the child.
Samael leaned toward the latter, his gaze softening.
The Goddess of Wisdom fixed him with a deep look, then snapped her fingers. The flower bud crushed in her grip by uncontrolled force fell shattered to the floor.
"Child, I must admit—you've exceeded my expectations. So, what terms do you propose?"
Hesitation meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant negotiation.
"Simple—help others, and you help yourself."
The ancient serpent's lips curled upward, revealing his intent.
"Themis and I will raise the child in your womb. In return, you must dispel Olympus's hostility."