(Greek Mythology) The Abyss
Chapter Thirty-Eight
"Eris, let me tell you a story too." A fire seemed to ignite behind Hermella. How could she let such a cute and adorable girl be raised like Tartarus? No matter what, she had to bring Eris back to her senses. After all, His Majesty, though beautiful, powerful, and omnipotent, was anything but cute.
Feeling the weight of her responsibility, Hermella resolved to start with fairy tales. She was determined to correct her younger sister's understanding of fairy tales, making her understand that fairy tales were definitely not the kind Tartarus told, but rather stories that, while entertaining children, praised truth, goodness, and beauty, enabling them to learn lessons through enjoyable reading and cultivate positive, upright values.
"Come, Eris, let me tell you the story of the Frog Prince. Once upon a time, there was a king who had several daughters, all of whom were very beautiful, especially his youngest daughter…"
After telling the story, Hermes asked Eris, "Eris, what does this story tell us?"
Before Eris could answer, Hypnos's voice came from outside the door, "It tells us that this is a world that judges by appearance. When the prince was a frog, the princess wouldn't even be his friend, but once he turned back to his normal form, she was willing to marry him."
"…"
A perfectly good story about honesty and trustworthiness has been twisted like this, but why does it seem so reasonable to me? —by Hermes, whose thoughts have been led astray
"Why did the witch turn the prince into a frog? Wouldn't it have been better to just kill him?" A typical Death-like way of thinking, from Thanatos, who entered with his twin brother.
"Could that little princess really amaze even the all-knowing sun when it shines on her face? Is she even more beautiful than Eris?" Eris, who had always displayed her obsessive love of beauty, was now looking for a mirror.
Hermes, whose mission had failed before it even began, felt utterly disheartened by the three gods' varied and unpredictable reactions.
#What happened to the promise that children would obediently share their understanding and insights after the story?#
#Although they did, the script was completely off!#
#Why aren't you all following the script? Have you considered how I, the storyteller, feel?#
————————————
In the Abyss Temple, Tartarus, chatting with Aether, paused almost imperceptibly, a hint of a smile flashing in his eyes.
Indeed, his choice was right; children were indeed fascinating.
"I heard you've been doing prenatal education for your child recently," Tartarus asked Aether.
"Yes, she plays some music every day. Hemera said she wants a daughter." Aether's expression softened as she spoke, clearly anticipating the child's arrival.
"Who plays, you or Hemera?" Though phrased as a question, Tartarus spoke with a declarative tone; he always had a knack for turning questions into statements.
"Both," Aether replied, "half and half."
Hearing Aether's answer, Tartarus couldn't help but think of past events.
Hemera was born with a harp as her accompaniment. Everyone thought that while Hemera sometimes lacked technical skill, since her accompaniment was a musical instrument, her musical talent must be quite good.
However…
As it turns out, ideals are always lofty, but reality is always harsh. Hemera's talent… was, to say the least, better than utterly terrible.
After training, Hemera could still play a piece of music correctly, albeit for a long time. But emotionally, being able to transform a gentle, melancholic melody into one with the powerful energy of a stampeding horse, while still playing the correct key, is quite remarkable, isn't it?
Finally, Tartarus couldn't bear to watch any longer and personally took Hemera to the abyss to teach her.
Unlike Aether and Nyx, who were either doting on their sister or their daughter and couldn't bring themselves to punish Hemera for her whims, Tartarus was cold and ruthless. He chose a piece that suited Hemera's personality, that she could understand the emotions in, and that was somewhat cheerful. Then he personally supervised her practice, correcting even the smallest mistakes, and making her practice repeatedly until she could perfectly express the emotions in the music.
In short, you have to practice whether you want to or not. If you don't master it, you keep going until you do. After all, gods don't need rest, so sleeping or not makes little difference. It's just tough on Hemera, who hasn't fully adapted to human sleep patterns.
The result of the training is that Hemera can still amaze unsuspecting beings when she plays certain pieces, but as for the rest… well, let's just say they're not great.
"You should have a boy," Tartarus sincerely suggested to Aether.
Having a boy is good, at least a male god only needs to have fighting power; talents are just icing on the cake, unlike goddesses who need to constantly compare themselves to each other. Even if the boy's fighting power isn't enough…
Anyway, men don't need to be held back like women. If their fighting power isn't enough, they can just be thrown into a training illusion and brought out when it's enough. Gods have no shortage of time, and their excellent physical condition ensures that even the most rigorous training won't leave any health problems. Of course, this also means they can be abused at will.
#God-branded body, resilient, strong recovery ability, you deserve it#
Ether paused for a moment, then clearly remembered this. Another consequence of forced training is that unless in front of outsiders, Hemera will absolutely not play those practiced pieces again, except for occasional maintenance practice.
So the pieces Hemera usually plays for the fetus… well, you can imagine.
"Actually, you could also use the excuse of worrying about Hemera's health to forbid her from touching musical instruments." Seeing Aethel's troubled expression, Tartarus, unusually kind, didn't bother her and offered another suggestion.
"Thank you, Your Majesty Tartarus." Aethel breathed a sigh of relief and sincerely thanked him.
"Aethel, you could actually call me Uncle." Here we go again, Tartarus said this phrase almost with a sigh, uttering it countless times.
"No, propriety cannot be disregarded." On this point, Aethel remained as insistent as ever.
Tartarus rubbed his forehead, somewhat helpless. So, Aethel, do you really have to insist on being addressed as Your Majesty Tartarus? Is it so hard for you to call me Uncle?
Aethel's way of addressing him was one of the few things Tartarus was powerless to change.