Daughters of Olympus

by Hannah M. Lynn

Had I said something that had led to his actions? Could he have misconstrued any of my comments as an invitation?

I did not realize what love was until I held my children against my skin and felt warmth flood from their tender flesh into my own. I did not understand the meaning of devotion until I heard those first wails echo and I knew, with all the strength that my Titan parents had bestowed on me, that I would die before I let them come to harm. I did not know that a heart could swell so greatly that it both throbbed with fear and surged with affection until I fed them from my own body. I did not know that all these things could come from being a mother.

“And as we created them, it is our duty to nourish them, to give them the grain that will sustain them.”

there are times when pain should be numbed and times when you should let it burn through you with all the fire your body can withstand.

But they were mortals. Their life would be so brief, it did not even compare to that of an oak tree.

The Sirens—the beautiful monstrous creatures that lure sailors to steer their ships onto the jagged rocks of the western sea with their enchanting songs so that they can feast upon their bodies—are of my creation.

Core was more than my daughter, more than my heart. She was every part of me.

Any person who has raised a child will tell you that from the instant they are your responsibility, in whatever capacity, you are forever changed. You no longer hear wailings sounds as earsplitting annoyances but as anguish and torment, which you alone must heal.

I did not notice the lack of heat. My warmth came from inside. From the earth and this child.

“Do you know that the flowers grow where you lie? They grow on earth that has been barren for years. Leaves glimmer. Wheat and grass have grown higher before my very eyes when I am in your presence. The earth is music around you.

I am as content in a field with nothing but wheat and soft grass as in a palace with a thousand servants.