The other names, while not so ubiquitous, had cropped up in occasional readings. Styx ruled some corner of Hades’s domain in the Underworld, she believed. And Perse was a Nymph married to Helios.
“These are yours and Okeanus’s offspring,” Pandora said, not quite certain how well she’d concealed her discomfiture. She was looking at beings who demanded Men worship them as gods. Looking at them in a time when they had probably just gotten past the age of shitting themselves, some perhaps not even that.
“Okeanus is my consort, yes. He attends the war by negotiating with Nereus of Pontus. You see, the Telkhines serve me already, but once our alliance with Pontus deepens, Thebes shall be undisputed ruler of the Aegean. Phoebe and Koios and other such Titans in Lydia and Phrygia will be forced to submit or lose access to the sea.”
Her words were meant to impress Pandora with the glory of Thebes, soon to be even greater. Perhaps Tethys thought, if she awed Pandora, made her believe Thebes’s victory inevitable, Pandora would then convince Prometheus to join her. What would the Titan say if Pandora were to reveal Okeanus would die in this war? That Tethys would manage to secure a position in the forthcoming hegemony, but hardly dominate over Kronos or Atlas?
None of the children paid Pandora much mind, so caught in their own games. Which suited her well enough. What did one say to an infantile future Olympian? Instead, Pandora rose, strolling the garden with Tethys until, at last, the Titan guided her toward guest chambers inside the palace. They passed bustling servants hauling amphorae into the courtyard, perhaps preparing for further indulgent feasts despite the war.
The Titans battled for the life and soul of the Thalassa world, and Men died in droves in their names, but Hades forbid Titan parties should be impacted. Numerous walls bore vibrant frescoes depicting undersea cities and mer courts as well as coral reefs teeming with kaleidoscopic varieties of fish. Grand works of art honoring the sea Tethys and her consort so loved.
How, exactly, had she arranged for mer to serve her? Who were these Telkhines that followed her bidding? Her words indicated they hailed from Pontus, a fabled kingdom beneath the Aegean. And that Nereus, apparently, ruled there now, though Poseidon would do so in Pandora’s time. Pieces of the puzzle remained elusive, and, much as she wanted to solve the picture, she feared to ask too much. She could not know how much Tethys expected her to be aware of in this time period, and a mischosen phrase might turn the Titan from a half-gracious host to a suspicious gaoler.
Almost biting her tongue, Pandora held her peace. Tethys showed her to her new chambers, these too painted in cool blues reminiscent of the sea outside. Her room had a shutterless window from which she could look out and catch sight of the waves, far, far below.
After some few pleasantries, Tethys left her with her thoughts, and Pandora sank upon a surprisingly comfortable wool-stuffed bed. After her ordeal upon the bireme, exhaustion tightened its grip upon her, and she slept.
Her days without Prometheus and Pyrrha stretched on and on. Despite attempting to learn as much as she could of this time and place and the Telkhines, ennui inevitably set in each afternoon. There was a sense she could not shake that she languished here, passing time while failing to live. Had she begun to define her very existence in reference to that of her new family? Such thoughts, pathetic and weak, drove her to once more dive into her studies in Tethys’s palace.
She perused papyrus scrolls and read of the Titans who lorded over this Golden Age, and how they squabbled over land and Ambrosia. She read tales of Nymphs pursued by supposedly valiant Titan lords, as if the satiation of their lusts held some inherent heroism. Most of all, she took occasion to make her subtle inquiries about the Telkhines.
Nereus, King of Pontus, had given Tethys a pact long ago. Some mer he granted to her service, in exchange for a steady stream of mortals offered up to his kingdom. What did the mer use Men for? This, Pandora did not know, though some of the palace servants believed the mer dragged their hapless sacrifices into the deep and feasted upon them, body and soul.
Pandora remained dubious.
Ten days after her arrival here, Okeanus returned and with him, word claimed, came Prometheus.
Unable to contain herself, Pandora awaited them in the vestibule, shifting from foot to foot, when she wasn’t pacing about between the columns. When her lover arrived, Pyrrha cradled in his arms, his sapphire eyes locked with her own, all the rest of the palace fell away. Perhaps others stared as they embraced, as she shuddered in gasping, wordless relief at holding the two of them once more. If so, if they gaped at her wantonness, Pandora cared not a whit.
Nestled against his chest, she clutched Pyrrha’s little hand.
Moments like these, one remembered truths that so far transcended petty notions of propriety. After nigh losing those who mattered most, one was forced to admit to oneself. Everything besides the people one loves comes a distant second, so far behind as to seem irrelevant and self-indulgent. Any who could not understand that failed themselves.
After she had cradled Pyrrha, after she had nursed her—and found her milk somewhat diminished, much to her dismay—and the child slept, she laced her fingers with Prometheus and lay with him. Only then, spent and reeling, could she form the words to speak of what had happened, her face pressed his bare chest.
“The woman who attacked me bore auric armor, helm to greaves. She had great, golden-feathered wings.” Pandora swallowed. “I thought she intended to kill me for trying to subvert Ananke’s will. All I could think was about how you warned me but I hadn’t listened. But … Zeus had been right there and I thought, if I
