qualityfirstproperties

[yourlokalescholar]

Don’t usually do stories on here, but saw this prompt and felt inspired. Constructive criticism welcome <:

Cinderella huffed through gritted teeth, scrubbing furiously at this most recent stain on the tile; there seemed to be more every day. Actually, it wouldn’t surprise her if her stepsisters spilled food on purpose to spite her. That sounded like them.

She thrust the brush into the soap bucket, splashing water all over the floor and soaking her dress. It hardly mattered anyway: her stepmother and stepsisters were enjoying themselves at the royal ball, and probably wouldn’t be back all night. Probably be too hungover to get up ‘till the afternoon too, Cinderella thought with grim pleasure.

She sighed and sat back, the stain finally gone. She looked around at the rest of the floor, assessing how much work she needed to do before tomorrow.

Good lord.

Right. Now seemed a good time for a break. She dropped the brush on the floor and stood up, cracking her back. She wiped her hands on her apron and made her way outside, still barefoot.

Cinderella took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the fresh air and the coolness of it on her skin, soothing her exhausted muscles. Leaning her back against the wall, she closed her eyes and imagined she was anywhere else. It was the perfect night for a ball; midwinter evening, but surprisingly warm, the stars bright and clearly visible in the cloudless sky.

“It is a lovely night, isn’t it?” A voice said from beside her.

Cinderella startled, eyes snapping open and head snapping to the side. Standing next to her was a woman. Or… perhaps it was a younger girl. No, she was sure it was a woman. Older than her, perhaps in her twenties, or seventies. The woman grinned at her obvious confusion.

Cinderella remembered her manners. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. Your dress is lovely.” It wasn’t a lie: she was wearing a gorgeous, deep green ball gown, with a flowing train made of translucent fabric that seemed to fade to nothing. Over her shoulders was what looked to be a cloak of iridescent, black feathers.

The woman looked pleased. “I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your manners. That’s something I’ve always liked about you.”

Cinderella was quickly growing uneasy, wondering if this woman was older than she looked, and perhaps going senile. Though, now that she’d mentioned it, she did think the woman looked inexplicably familiar.

Tilting her head, the strange woman spoke again with exaggerated surprise, a wide grin still plastered on her face, as if she’d forgotten she had to move her mouth when she changed facial expressions. “Do you not recognise me, dear? I suppose it has been a while since we last spoke.”

The girl tried for a politely apologetic expression, shaking her head.

The woman smiled even wider. “I am your godmother; it’s my job to make sure your life is going as well as I can make it.”

Now, most young ladies might be frightened or concerned by this statement. Cinderella, however, felt that it explained quite a bit about her childhood; namely, all of her faint memories about an old woman that taught her numbers and read her bedtime stories when she was small. And by god did she need someone to fix her life.

She matched the woman’s grin. “I do remember you,” she tilted her head thoughtfully, mimicking her earlier motion. “Partially, at least. May I have your name?”

Her godmother’s eyes crinkled with genuine mirth, and her head snapped back as she let out a laugh like church bells.

“Good! You remember me. I’m glad to see living with that infernal stepmother of yours has not wrung all of the wits out of you,” she said. “And to answer your question, although I’m sure you already know what I’m going to say, you may refer to me as ‘Godmother’.”

Godmother clapped her hands once. “Now, Cinderella, if you still want to get to that ball, we’d better get to work right away. Unless you intend to show up dressed like that?”

Cinderella looked down at her stained, grey rags, still soaked with dirty water, and shook her head. “What did you have in mind?”

Her godmother frowned. “Now, dear. You’ve spent enough of your life being told what to do; I think you’ve earned the rights to some autonomy. What do YOU want?”

Cinderella’s face broke into a genuine smile for possibly the first time since her father died.

“What do you think will piss off my stepfamily the most?”

Her godmother grinned mischievously, her wings unfurling behind her.

***

The prince snarled as he slashed at what was left of the training dummy. The remaining hunk of leather finally collapsed to the floor, and he stood over it, panting.

He felt a little better.

“Reginald Charming Peaseblossom!” A furious voice boomed from behind him.

Reginald flinched, but stubbornly refused to turn around.

“You are to turn and face me this instant, young man,” She said, deathly calm.

The prince took a deep breath, making the most of the last few moments of his life, then turned to face his mother.

The woman in front of him was a few inches shorter than he was, with snow-white hair standing out shockingly against her ebony skin. She wore a deep purple and lilac dress with golden accents, and her arms and neck were all but covered by heavy gold jewellery. Hung over one of her arms was what looked to be a wine-red suit, which looked almost as bedazzled as her own dress. Reginald chose to focus on her clothing to avoid looking at the stony face she was surely wearing.

“Yes, mother?” He asked, still breathing heavily. It came out more feebly than he’d intended.

The queen took a deep breath, and it looked like it took all of her strength to keep her expression cold and neutral (it was unbecoming for royalty to show emotion in the company of others, the prince remembered from his many lessons in etiquette). She stepped towards her son and shoved the suit at him, the extravagant garnishes jingling.

“You’re lucky there’s no time to punish you. Put this on quickly- I will be making sure it’s done properly- then head straight to the ballroom. Guests are already arriving. We will discuss your tardiness after the ball.”

“Yes, mother,” Reginald replied. Then, feeling bold, he added, “But don’t expect me to find a suitor. I am certain that none of the guests-“

“One of our guests will take your fancy,” his mother’s voice was more angry than he’d ever heard it, but her face was blank as always. “Otherwise, your father and I will choose a bride for you.”

The prince stiffened. He didn’t know why he still tried to defy her. He knew all it would do was get him into more trouble.

“Yes, mother.”

He turned smoothly, walking away with his head held high and his suit folded neatly over one arm, as he’d been taught. He deflated the moment he was out of the queen’s sight, relaxing his posture and breaking into a jog. If he hurried, he could wash quickly and be ready without making his mother much more angry. He didn’t want to attract the attention of any possible suitors, of course, but he wasn’t an animal.

Or perhaps he was just looking for an excuse to avoid the ball for a bit longer. He’d probably regret that later.

Once he’d reached his room (slamming the door and locking it behind him), he let out a sigh that hurt his throat with its force. He wanted to scream and throw something across the room in anger, but knew he didn’t have time for any more dramatics.

Instead, Reginald stalked over to his closet and threw the doors open, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He held the suit in front of him, and saw with disgust that it looked fantastic.

As he’d noticed before, it was a deep, wine red, the buttons apparently made of gold. It was paired with a white poet shirt to wear underneath. Reginald’s dreadlocks were tied back in a short ponytail at that moment, but he knew if he let them down and added some golden strings and ribbons, maybe a pair of gold earrings as well, it would compliment the gold on the suit perfectly.

The already unhappy face in the mirror contorted into a scowl as the boy realised that his mother, as usual, was right.

***

Cinderella tried her best to look like a noble as she hitched up her skirts and stepped daintily down from her carriage-that-had-been-a-pumpkin. Actually, she had to move daintily, because her shoes were made of brittle glass (it was A Look, okay? She was a trendsetter).

She looked back at her godmother, who’d been sat besides her on the drive there. The fairy was stepping down after her, leaving her long train trailing behind her into the carriage. She offered her goddaughter an encouraging smile.

“You’re going to be great, dear,” she told Cinderella. “Go have fun. I’ll be here, even if you can’t see me.”

Cinderella smiled back. “Th- I’m grateful, Godmother. And I’m very glad for all of these gifts.”

With a knowing grin, the woman gave a final curtsy, and was gone in a gust of wind and a fluttering of fabric and feathers.

Cinderella took a deep breath, straightening her posture. She nodded to the carriage driver, who squeaked in response. And without further ado, she turned to follow the rest of the party-goers into the castle, holding back a smile as she pretended not to see the heads that turned in her direction.

She was far and away the best dressed there.

Most of the crowd consisted of the more rich common folk- they were easy to distinguish from their extravagant skirts made of clearly cheap material- but a significant amount of them were actually nobility. Cinderella walked among lords, ladies, dukes, duchesses, counts, countesses- and her dress outshone them all.

She’d arrived at the same time as most of the other guests, right as the music was starting. A shy boy about her age in a striking orange suit caught her eye, and she sashayed over to him as the music crescendoed. He gaped at her, and she grinned at him and held out her hand, which he took tentatively. The girl laughed and pulled him to the dance floor, trying for a pirouette. Admittedly, she didn’t know how to dance, but this boy seemed too enraptured to tell.

She giggled girlishly, twirling from his arms a few songs later and into the arms of a young woman in a pale pink dress, who gripped her hands with no hesitation and danced with confidence and a lot more skill than Cinderella possessed.

She spent the better part of the next two hours dancing the night away, never staying with a partner for more than a song or two, but leaving them with an impression that would stick with them for the rest of her life, unbeknownst to her. She was aware of little beyond her dance partner and the eyes of her audience, for once not distasteful or reproachful, but admiring. Reverent, even.

She sometimes caught glimpses of deep green fabric and iridescent, black feathers, and she knew that her godmother was there with her, and Cinderella felt happy and safe for the first time she could remember clearly.

It was pure luck that the Prince of the Entire Bloody Kingdom found his way into her arms.

***

Reginald didn’t make a habit of staring at people. He knew it was impolite, plus most people weren’t interesting enough to warrant staring.

This girl, however…

Reginald knew what love felt like, in theory. He’d read plenty of books on the subject, and thought he’d probably be able to identify it if he ever fell in love with someone, unlikely as he found the notion. And he was sure this wasn’t it. Which begged the question: why couldn’t he look away from this girl?

Perhaps it was her clothing. Her dress was ocean-blue, with layers of skirts fading to a turquoise the colour of a tropical sea, the bottom skirts trailing behind her, rippling like waves. The hemline was raised in the front to just below her knees, and was lined with a translucent, white fabric that glittered like sea-foam and seemed impossibly light, as if it floated just above the ground. Her bodice was simple; the neckline and waistline were adorned with the same sea-foam-fabric, but other than that it was entirely plain- although Reginald swore that when the light hit it just so, it moved like the surface of the ocean from a mile above. Somehow, despite her ethereal dress, the prince felt the most striking part of her outfit was the shoes: they were made entirely of intricately-shaped glass, and yet were as pristine and flawless as they’d been when she’d arrived, despite being perhaps a centimetre thick at their strongest point.

It gave Reginald a petty sense of satisfaction to know that her simple outfit of a ball gown and slippers far outshone his mother’s intricate dress with twice its weight in gold jewellery.

But no, it wasn’t the outfit that drew the prince’s eye.

There was something about the way she moved, that he could no more explain than he could ignore. She clearly couldn’t dance, yet her movements were elegant, flowing smoothly like water in a stream. If he hadn’t spent so much of his life in dancing lessons, he’d probably think she was an expert. She seemed tireless, moving with the same unnerving enthusiasm she’d danced with all night, with an unfaltering grin stretching from ear to ear. Something about her reminded him of a dream, as if the colours of her clothes and skin and flowing hair couldn’t quite keep up with her, leaving afterimages in her wake.

It was like she was enchanted.

Reginald wanted to study her.

That was the real reason he joined the dance, and finally found himself with her a few hours later (the entire crowd was clustered around her, almost forming a solid wall).

He looked down at the girl, who looked back at him, face perfectly framed by her almost snow-white hair, and said the first thing that came to mind.

“Oh, wow. You’re beautiful.”

He immediately cringed. That… that had come out wrong. The girl raised her eyebrows, looking unimpressed.

“Thank you? But I’m really not interested… your highness.”

“Oh thank god,” the prince sighed, too relieved to be surprised.

The girl threw back her head and cackled, and Reginald realised in that same moment that that was also not a polite thing to say to a guest.

“Wowwww!” She said with mock-offence, twirling into a pirouette even though the song did not call for it at all. “I expected the prince to be a lot more polite.”

“No- I’m- I- I just meant- um…” he stuttered, to the girl’s visibly growing amusement. “Can we please start over?”

She laughed again, then broke away and dipped into a curtsey.

“Cinderella Fairchild, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Oh good, they were doing formal introductions. Reginald knew how to do those.

“Prince Reginald Charming Peaseblossom of Mythica, at your service.”

He held out a hand, raising an eyebrow. Cinderella took it and he pulled her into a more formal slow dance, this time to the beat of the music.

“So, what brings you to the ‘find the prince a wife’ party if you’re not planning to court the prince?” Reginald asked, starting to lead Cinderella to a more private corner.

“What brings you to the ‘find the prince a wife’ party if you’re not planning to find a wife?” Cinderella countered.

The prince grimaced. “This ball was… not my idea, to put it mildly.” (In truth, he’d been fighting against the plan for weeks) “I actually have no interest in romance. I’d be glad if I never found a wife, ever.”

Cinderella raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Would you rather a husband?”

She laughed at his scandalised expression, and he scrambled to defend himself (yet again).

“No- There’s nothing wrong with- I was just- I thought- You-“ he huffed. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you.”

“Yup!” She grinned, popping the p.

Reginald raised his eyebrows at her. “I notice you’re avoiding my question, Cinderella.”

She squinted at him and jutted out her jaw, like an annoyed child. “Well, if you must know, I’m busy having a good time and pissing off my stepfamily by showing them up and refusing to clean their house.”

The prince laughed. “Alright, valid. It seems neither of us have a happy family life.”

He twirled her around like a ballerina, even though the song playing at that moment was actually quite somber. Then he frowned, realising something.

“Hold on. Aren’t you a noblewoman? Why are you doing your family’s chores?”

She smiled secretively. “A noblewoman? Me? Why on Earth would you think that?”

Reginald took a step back and looked Cinderella up and down incredulously. “You’re telling me that you’re dressed like that… and. You’re not royalty?”

“Mmhm!” She tilted her head to the side as if she was looking at someone behind him, still wearing that secretive smile.

The prince raised an eyebrow, planting his hands hands on his hips. He continued to stare at her for a few seconds, before finally giving in and asking the question she was clearly waiting for.

“So how did you get the outfit then?”

“Oh, this? Just a gift from my godmother.”

“Mhm,” Reginald knew she was teasing him, but now he had to know what she was being so secretive about. “And where did your godmother get it?”

“She made it herself!” Then Cinderella gave him a smug smile. “She’s good with magic. Comes with being a fairy, I think.”

It took a few moments for the words to sink in, but when they did his mouth gaped so wide he thought his mother would crucify him if she were there. He didn’t for a moment consider that the girl might be lying: a fairy’s involvement would actually explain a lot of what he’d seen that night.

“Your godmother is a fairy? How… how did that even come about?” Somehow, that was the only question Reginald could think to ask.

Cinderella looked genuinely thoughtful for a moment, then she shrugged. “No clue, honestly. I’ll have to ask her when I get the chance.”

The prince chuckled and shook his head. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it?” At Cinderella’s questioning look, he elaborated. “I mean because of my heritage. My mother makes sure everyone we meet knows that my great-great-great-whatever grandmother was a fairy, and that I have ‘nature’s blessing’, or something like that. She would lose her MIND if she knew that a fairy’s goddaughter was at this ball.”

Cinderella giggled. “Maybe I should go introduce myself. How much do you think she’d pay if I told her I’d ensure calm seas and a bountiful harvest?”

The prince started to reply, then cut himself off abruptly. A grin slowly split his face, as he turned to face Cinderella fully.

“Just how badly do you want to get away from your stepfamily?”

She grimaced. “More than anything.”

“Enough to marry a man you just met?”

Her eyes widened, and a matching grin began to spread across her own face. “Perhaps.” Her face turned sly again. “Or, maybe not a man I just met. I’d have to know him for at least a few hours first…” she glanced through a window. “How long until midnight?”

Reginald also turned to look. “I’d say two hours. Why?”

“I wanna be dramatic about it. Might explain later.”

The prince found himself smiling wider at the girl’s obscurity, which he was quickly growing familiar with. “Well then. Might I offer you a tour of the gardens while we wait?”

Prince Reginald held out his hand once more, and Cinderella took it without hesitation.

[minalaifey]

Dornröschen

[fannyrosie]

Rainy spring at the doll house

Dress: second-hand Jane Marple Turtleneck: second-hand Cecil McBee Scarf: vintage Shoes: Queen Bee Brooches: handmade and vintage

[stygianroses]

[umiena]

　　　　　໋࿐ ｡˚　𓈃🧜🏻‍♀️　✢　(•ˋ _ ˊ•)

[delicadita]

ㅤ ㅤ ♡̵̵̵̼͓̥͒̾͘ ᡣ ⋅ ⋅ ᪲ა 𝓁𝒶𝒸𝒾𝓉ℴ𝓈

[cluescorner]

I cannot imagine being a Damian stan right now. You've got both Zdarsky's bullshit (where he clearly doesn't give a shit about your boy) and The Boy Wonder (where Juni Ba clearly gives so many shits about your boy) coming out on the same day. The whiplash must be insane. I hope y'all get some nice warm soup for your efforts jfc

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt #3

Geralt is the spirit of winter. He brings death and sickness wherever he goes. He understands when the people in towns shun him and cower in fear rather than greeting such a powerful being. He's just kind of... Grown used to the hatred. The fear. Humans don't like him. He is nothing but death. A killer. It's near the end of his time, this year. The seasons will change and he can stop tormenting the poor humans. He doesn't like his job, but it's the only job he can do. The world needs winter. Just like how the world needs spring. But spring just... Isn't coming. Where is the spring spirit? Thus the spirit of winter goes on a journey atop his trusted mare to find the lost spirit of spring, only to come across him captured by idiotic humans and on the edge of life. Winter defeats the villains and brings the spirit of spring back to his own home to watch over him as he heals. When the spirit of spring, Jaskier, comes to, Geralt finds it hard to dislike him. No wonder the humans love spring so much. It's bringer sings nearly all words and soothes with every move he makes. Geralt is sure the spirit of spring could never even grow to like him, let alone love him. This becomes a problem, because Geralt is growing head over heels with Spring's Spirit as he hosts his convalescence.

♡!Optional addons!♡ • Jaskier has always looked up to the spirit of winter, and has just been afraid to introduce himself (perhaps even already having made songs about him)

• Maybe instead of just normal humans, perhaps Jaskier was kidnapped by mages

• Perhaps we could also meet the spirits of autumn and summer. Eskel and Lambert? Yen and Ciri? Triss?

• Geralt is afraid to touch Jaskier in fear of making his flowers and goodness and warmth die (Jaskier wants nothing more than for Geralt to touch him)

[vintagegirl01]

Lizards and Pumpkins

AU Young Leto Atreides x fem reader

Summary: A ball is being held in the hopes that Leto Atreides will find an eligible maiden to marry as he is expected to become the next Duke of Caladan.

*This storyline will be similar to Disney’s Live Action Cinderella (2015). There the dress you will be wearing is like that one.

Author's note: This is my first fanfic ever. Therefore, please be kind about any feedback you all may have. Other than that, enjoy and let’s see where it goes from here.

When you get to the bottom of the steps, you notice the man from the forest you met a while back walking towards you. However, you had know idea he was the Leto Atreides of Caladan. You had been told that he was an apprentice in training but you had no idea you were speaking to the next Duke in line.

At this moment, you two are face to face with each other.

“It's you, isn't it?” Leto asks.

“Just so. Your grace…”, you respond and curtsy to him.

“If I may... that is... it would give me the greatest pleasure, if you would do me the honor of letting me lead you through this... the first…”, Leto struggles to say what’s on his mind due to being in a daze by your beauty.

“Dance?” You ask, smiling sweetly at him.

“Yes, dance. That's it.” He finally gets out.

While you and Leto start dancing, you notice the people surrounding you both.

You whisper to him, “They're all looking at you.”

At that statement, Leto smiles and says, “Believe me, they're all looking at you.”

——————————————————————

Leto pushes you gently on the swing in the secluded garden he shows you as you both carry on having meaningful chats.

A clink is heard, and you realize your slipper is off your foot. Upon noticing this, Leto stops pressing you, gets on her knees, and places the slipper on your foot.

With awe, he asks, "It's made of glass?"

"Why not?" you ask him, grinning.

Then, as though he wants to kiss you, he leans in close. "Will you please tell me your true identity?"

After giving it some thought, you say, "If I do, I think everything might be different."

Leto says, "I don't understand," with a perplexed expression. “At least, could you tell me your name?”

Just as you prepare to inform Leto, the clock chimes 11:59. That's when you recall what the fairy godmother said. You say as you turn to face Leto. "I must go now. It is difficult to describe. Pumpkins, lizards, and other things. You tell him you'll never forget it and thank him again for a fantastic night.

Leto murmurs, "Lizards and Pumpkins," as he watches you dash out of the garden. With a smile, he chooses to follow you.

One of your glass slippers slips on the palace steps as you walk to your carriage. Even if at first you want to pick up, you change your mind as you notice Leto approach you and climb inside the carriage.

When the carriage pulls out of the palace, you see Leto stoop to retrieve your slipper. You grin as you recall the amazing evening you spent with Leto. Despite your feeling that this is the final time you will ever see him.

You have no idea that Leto is planning to locate you. In one kind or another.

[kittymaine]

Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland Characters: Charles Rowland (DCU), Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Crystal Palace (DCU), Monty (Dead Boy Detectives), Paul Rowland | Charles Rowland's Father Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Protective Charles Rowland (DCU), Prince Edwin, Secret Identity Summary:

“For someone who claims not to like thinking,” Edwin says, raising an eyebrow, “you do a remarkably good job of it.”

Charles laughs. “Tell that to my old teachers, mate.”

“If they disagree, then they can’t be very qualified.” Edwin says this simply, like it’s just a fact of life. Like it’s plainly obvious that if anyone thinks Charles is stupid, it’s they who are at fault.

Or: Charles grew up poor and is likely to stay that away, his job at the magic store notwithstanding. By the time he meets Edwin, he's decided that he wants a new life. In between figuring out what's up with the mysterious wish-granting pigeons, and whether he can go to the Royal Ball, Edwin makes him want to take a chance on being happy as well.

[666bedbugs]

I’m still so happy with how this look turned out :’) I used fake blood to do my eyebrows and I’m !!!

OF | fansly | wishlist | my links | nsfw blog

[home-ward]

Strawberry cottagecore

[crappymixtape]

EDIT: i mean, hell yeah, of course steve is flynn rider – tangled is pulling ahead! omg, idk what it is about today, but i literally can't stop thinking of fairytale steve ( especially as kristoff, flynn rider, and prince eric ) 😵‍💫 it is making me absolutely insaneeeeeee.

EDIT: I AM LOSING MY MIND. I MEAN, ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? LOOK AT THIS. UNFFFF.

[fortunaestalta]

[whiterosesforher]

dark moon pantheon series ; ii

warnings: mentions of war/rebellion, pregnancy (hera's pregnancy)

genre: (dark) fantasy, au, romance, drama, action, fanfiction, historical, royalty

word count: 1,912 words

chapter synopsis: venus' questions remained unanswered as her and her sisters are kept in the dark about this raging issue around the ethereal realm, and she's determined to know everything for once.

a/n: this is an oc (named reader) x enhypen fanfiction based off of enhypen's current lore, there are some parts of the story where it's accurate to the greek lore but there are also some that are just purely fiction. i am so sorry it took me 3 days before posting the second backstory chapter. again, english is not my first language so please be nice. :3

masterlist.

Months passed in the ethereal realm after the first time of ever hearing the rebellion plan among the whispers of the gods around, the tension still palpable in the air. Yet amidst all of this, a booming announcement reverberated through the heavens, and that is Queen Hera is pregnant again, now carrying their fifth child. The news brought hope to those loyal to the throne that still sides with Zeus, that this joyous event might be what they need to calm the brewing storm.

The palace that was once filled with laughter and light, was replaced with hushed conversations and wary glances. The realm itself seemed to hold its breath, teetering at the edge of chaos. Venus, Thana, and Artaemia felt the change acutely, their once carefree days now shadowed by the weight of their father’s impending fate. The three girls are worried for their baby sister Halimede's safety, and for their incoming sibling that is still in their mother's womb.

Despite their queen's pregnancy, that should have been a time for celebration, the ethereal realm was divided instead. The gods and demigods found themselves split into two factions: those who still sided with Zeus, holding on to the hope that his rule could be redeemed, and those who supported the rebellion, tired of his tyrannical leadership.

The rebellion was led by formidable gods like Athena, Apollo, and most shockingly, Zeus’ own brothers, Poseidon and Hades. But the children, have no knowledge about the most influential and powerful gods that are leading this rebellion.

They're not even aware as to why this rebellion is the right thing to happen, how their father is so unjust and evil on the inside. Countless of lives have already suffered under his hands, and Poseidon is just putting an end to it.

Especially Venus, the poor girl still thinks that Poseidon is on her father's side.

The cause of this rebellion is just and powerful, fueled by the desire for fairness and balance. Athena, the goddess of wisdom, had long opposed Zeus’ harsh methods. Apollo, the god of light and prophecy, had foreseen the unrest and knew that change is clearly necessary. Poseidon and Hades, once a close ally that respected their brother so much, had turned, convinced that Zeus’ time on the throne should end for the greater good.

Venus watched as the glory of the palace now seemed overshadowed by the looming threat. She felt the weight of her father’s legacy and her family’s future pressing down on her young shoulders. She saw the worry etched into her mother’s face, the tension in her siblings’ eyes. The garden, their sanctuary, now felt like a distant memory to her.

The population of the gods overwhelmingly sided with the rebellion. They were tired of living under the king's heavy hand, longing for a leader who would rule with justice and compassion. That would once again bring balance in this world. Even among the demigods, their support for Zeus dwindled, loyalty shaken by years of oppressive ruling.

Even Thana knew that the odds were against them. The numbers alone made it clear that the rebellion had the upper hand. She could sense the unease among the palace staff as she passed by them on her way to the garden, the way their eyes darted with worry, their voices hushed in fearful anticipation. The demigods who serves the palace couldn't even look her in the eye when she walk passed.

As Hera’s pregnancy progressed over the months, the palace prepared for the arrival of the new child at any time now. It was a time of great expectation and everyone is anxious about this.

The loyalists prayed that the birth of a new god in the family would be a sign of renewal, a chance to restore balance in the realm. The rebels, however, saw it as a potential pawn in their fight, another reason to push harder for change. If only this rebellion isn't led by Hades and Poseidon, then all the other rebels would've already included and inflicted harm on Hera and the children.

Venus sat at the chair behind her desk, her eyes scanning the pages of a thick book. The words blurred together in her vision, her mind too distracted to even focus. With a heavy sigh, she closed the book and leaned back in her chair, staring at the detailed ornate ceiling of her study room. The tension inside the place that she once called home was now suffocating, and she needed a reprieve.

Quietly, she slipped out of her study, ensuring that not one soul noticed her departure. She moved swiftly through the corridors, her footsteps echoing faintly in the halls.

Venus made her way to the entrance, slipping out into the open without drawing any attention. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the horizon. The ocean, just half a mile away from the palace, had always been her sanctuary, so it was the first choice in her mind to run to in these times. It was where she felt closest to her uncle Poseidon, the god of the sea, who had always been a source of comfort and wisdom for her, the one she sees as a father instead of Zeus.

As she walks closer to the ocean, the soft white sand gently enveloped her feet, each step bringing her closer to the sound of the waves. The ocean stretched out before her, it is vast and glowing under the sunset. The gentle breeze caressed her face and played with her hair, giving a momentary sense of peace.

"Uncle Poseidon," she called out, her voice carrying over the sound of the waves. She looked around, hoping to see his familiar form rising from the water. "Uncle Poseidon, it's Venus. I need you."

Her voice echoed back to her, the only response she got was the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore. She called out several more times, but the ocean remained silent. Disappointed by this, she sat down on the soft sand, pulling her knees to her chest. The breeze continued to play with her hair and flowy dress, but it did not soothe her troubled mind.

"I really need the comfort of my father right now," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper and her expression sour. "Your comfort, Uncle Poseidon. Since my own father has never been actually a father to me."

The admission hung in the air, carried away by the wind. Venus stared out at the horizon, the endless blue meeting the sky. The ocean had always been a place where she felt understood and safe. Without Poseidon's comforting presence, the weight of her worries only seemed even heavier.

She drew patterns in the sand with her fingers, her thoughts going on a whirlwind. The news of her mother’s pregnancy should've lifted her spirits up but no, that did not happen. The rebellion, that are led by those she had once considered allies, threatened to tear her family apart. The palace has turned into a battleground of ruined loyalties.

Venus closed her eyes, allowing the sounds of the ocean to wash over her. She imagined Poseidon’s deep and kind voice, guiding her through all of this. She missed the times they had spent together, learning, laughing, and bonding in each other’s company.

He was her best father figure, and she wonders where he is now that she needs him the most.

For a moment, she let herself believe that everything would be alright, that her family would find a way. The ocean, with its timeless beauty and power, reminded her of the strength within her, a strength she would need to draw upon in the days to come.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Venus took a deep breath and stood up. The sand clung to her legs, a gentle reminder of the place she had come to for peace. She took one last look at the ocean, hoping that her uncle would sense her need and come to her soon before she takes the path back to the palace.

Poseidon on the other hand, stood at the center of their gathering. The meeting was held in a secluded grotto beneath the ocean, where the gentle lapping of waves against the rocky walls created a calming backdrop. The rebels, gods and demigods alike, were seated in a semicircle around him, their faces a mixture of determination and anxiety.

Poseidon, his blue eyes intense, raised a hand to signal for silence. The murmur of conversations died down immediately, and all attention are on him.

He took a deep breath, before speaking, "We are gathered here today because we share a common goal, we seek to end the tyranny of Zeus. He has brought suffering not only to the gods but to the mortal realm as well. But let me make one thing clear: we will not harm the innocent. Our actions must be just and honorable. The children, especially, are to be kept out of this conflict."

The gathered gods nodded in agreement, their expressions serious. Poseidon’s gaze softened momentarily as he thought of his nieces, especially Venus. She had grown up under his care, and he felt a deep, paternal affection for her. The idea of her being caught in the crossfire of this rebellion was unbearable for him.

Athena, seated to Poseidon’s right, leaned forward. "We all agree, Poseidon. The children must be protected. But we cannot ignore the fact that Zeus' actions have affected everyone, even his queen, Hera, that has been tolerating and shielding his actions over the years. The mortal realm is in chaos because of his interference. He breaks his own rules and favors his chosen few, disrupting the balance."

Apollo, his golden hair gleaming in the dim light, spoke next. "Humans dominate the earth, treating other life forms—vampires, werewolves, mermaids, sirens, and everyone else—with disdain. These beings are forced to hide, to blend in as humans, fearing persecution. Zeus' favoritism has only made things worse. He abuses his power, meddling in mortal affairs, and Hades is not receiving the souls that rightfully belong to him."

Poseidon nodded, his expression grim. "Zeus’ actions have caused untold suffering. He has favored certain mortals, granting them powers and protection, while others languish in misery. He disrupts the natural order, and the balance of the world is at stake. We must act, but we must act with honor."

As the discussion continued, the gods shared stories of Zeus' cruelty and the injustices faced by those under his rule. Poseidon listened intently, his mind racing. The situation was dire, but he is determined to protect his nieces and all innocent beings from the fallout of this rebellion.

After hours of deliberation, the meeting concluded. The gods dispersed, each with their own tasks and plans. Poseidon remained behind, staring out at the ocean through the grotto’s entrance.

Poseidon’s thoughts turned to Zeus, his brother, who had once been a leader of immense power and wisdom, an older brother that he once looked up to. The transformation into a tyrant was a tragedy, one thing he never expected, but it cannot be ignored. The balance of the world depended on their actions, and Poseidon must restore it.

Deep in his thoughts, that he failed to notice the call of his niece that has been going on for several times now. Calls of Venus remained unanswered.

[umiena]

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