Part 1
Thunder boomed above your head as clouds darkened, the simple black sandals on your feet carrying you as fast as could be managed as you ran home. This would be the third storm this month, and the month itself was only half-over. For the time of year it was uncommon to have such chaos thrust into your world. Which would be fine, except your city was still reeling from the earthquake that toppled Ares’ temple. Those who weren’t picking up their homes or burying loved ones had taken to the temples, desperately making offerings and repairing statues.
Your grey robes flew from your body as you hurried to avoid the downfall of water from the heavens above, held together with rope dyed red. The last time a storm like this erupted numerous homes had been struck with lightning head-on. Fires had erupted in nearby forests, and already your people who relied on fishing as you were a coastal city were now out of luck for hunting. Many of the animals fled, and there was one comment made above all else, “The gods are angry.”
At first, your involvement was about as common as anyone else’s. Your family wasn’t royalty and you were adopted. An infant found screaming in the woods, no one had thought to question anything more than a teenage girl giving up a daughter she couldn’t raise. Your parents were more than happy to take you in. But you’d been in the same boat as the rest of the Greeks. You worshipped deities and you had selected your own personal one.
Your mother had tried to push you towards her own goddess, Aphrodite, and insisted that a goddess of romance and love couldn’t be so bad. At a rebellious point, however, you’d swung in favor of Ares. He was intelligent and he was good. Not just a man of pure anger, war, or instability, you saw he was the lesser of the Pantheon. He was the man to be on the correct side of in a fight. His offerings and demands were so simple and you had thought it wise to demand only what was necessary.
However your father’s own devotion fell towards Poseidon, a god who was fair and good, who never went to the extremes of Zeus. He had given the town so much and allowed the coastal city to thrive, it seemed only fair. Your father had robed himself in blues and whites whenever possible, as blues were the rarer of colors, but you had kept with the simplistic grey for Ares. The red you told your mother was for Aphrodite, but truthfully it was just another call to the god you prayed to.
Moments after throwing yourself into the stone house the sky about opened up. A bolt of lightning crashed down behind you, startling you as you walked towards your mother, “Seems I’ve arrived just in time.” Your hair had started well-braided and curled, but had since fallen apart somewhat.
Hair had fallen by your face as you watched her walk towards you, care and concern on her features, “My dearest…” She was ready to speak to you frankly, but that chance came and left when a group of soldiers came from behind the curtain leading further into the home. One of them you recognized quite well, a patch over his eye from loss in battle. He was a good man and an incredible leader, but you were unsure why Fury would be in your home. He was, of course, named after the Furies. His reputation made sure of that piece also.
What you recognized however was the clothing they were dressed in. Certainly, soldiers in your home wasn’t incredibly uncommon, but such a high ranking official in black and gold was. They were men who prayed to Zeus but it was Poseidon they looked to for wisdom. You had wondered if the gods could have known that. And if they did, would it be held against them?
“Y/N, I’m guessing our appearance here is a bit of a surprise.” Fury kept his gaze on you as he spoke, hardly shaken by the thunder booming and lightning exploding across the sky. Rain poured outside, uncommonly heavy though you hoped with the crops it would be useful. But now… this was strange.
You could only nod, trying your best to maintain your composure in such a strange sort of circumstance, “I was wondering. Should the town not be taken care of?”
He let off a soft chuckle, one that took you off guard, “We both know that the city will be as resilient as those within it. Which is part of why I am here now, Y/N.” He extended a hand, motioning you to join him as he took a seat in one of the living room chairs. It was wooden, woven cushions allowing support as you sat across, “May I speak openly with you, Y/N?” He placed his feet flat on the stone flooring, his stature relaxed yet somehow still very foreboding. It was now you noticed more of the armor than before. A more finished chest piece, leather on his forearms and legs, and a large sword strapped to his hilt.
Finding his gaze again, nervous, you nodded, “Of course. I’d expect nothing else.” You forced a smile. It wasn’t that you knew him well, or that he knew you, but you knew his reputation. To ask a soldier to be kind in a time of crisis felt like weakness and you were a no one. Weren’t you?
He leaned in, getting closer, “Y/N, as you well know there have been a plethora of events taken place throughout the past few months. Storms, earthquakes, drought in some lands, fires… it appears as though the gods are furious. As you know also we have doubled our efforts at praise and sacrifice. We have given all we can imagine to the temples and prayed until our lips have bled from uttering the words. And yet…” He held his hand out, motioning to the chaos of the storm going on around outside, “This continues.”
He took a breath, “But what we have found, in our time searching, is that while every city is affected, there has been one person to avoid any personal pain or suffering. One person who has kept a family, livelihood, even the temple of their god has been spared any damage in the storms and events. One person seems immune from the destruction wrought forth.”
For a moment you considered his words closely. You thought about the small temple for Ares you had kept so immaculate in your time not spent working or studying. You considered your time watching the heroes of Ares train and how Matthew Murdock had fought with such power regardless of sight. A gift of Ares himself, he’d said. And you thought about your father’s vessel, saved from damage in the water, your own person that had narrowly avoided more than one terrifying ordeal.
You shook your head, “Surely this is a coincidence, there are others-”
He cut you off sharply, “This is no coincidence and we are slowly running out of options. We have been saved from the ravages of war thus far, but should this continue we may be facing further threats. I am here, pleading with you, Y/N, to speak with the gods of Olympus.”
His words felt almost hollow as they fell forth with ease. They felt surreal and for a moment you considered that this was just a vivid dream. Perhaps too much wine had sent you into a dream state and now you were imagining Fury telling you to speak with the gods. So you shook your head, “Even if I were to agree, what would you have me do? Wait calmly at the foot of Mount Olympus? Wait for what?” You laughed, nervously, as if in disbelief. Because you were.
Behind Fury your mother was holding the hand of your father who had clasped it on her shoulder. He looked concerned, as did she, and you understood that this was no longer up for a debate. You, a mere mortal, were being summoned to the foot of where the gods and goddesses called home. You… and who were you?
“I wish we had more time to discuss this, Y/N, but I am here out of courtesy. I’d rather it be your choice to arrive at the base than a use of force.” His words drew heavy and you understood the gravity. He was telling you in no uncertain terms you would be at Mount Olympus whether you wanted to be or not. And you had seen what happened to those who refused, or even those who accepted. Some were taken by the gods above and remained away from their loved ones forever. Others were taken and brought back only to be found with a child. This? What was this?
So you clutched at your robes, “How much time do I have to prepare? May I at least pack a bag to bring with me?” You were holding back tears. Tears of anxiety and anticipation, of not knowing what you were giving yourself up to. This was a sacrifice, was it not?
Fury nodded, beginning to rise once he could see his words had settled strongly, “We are not waiting for the storm to break. Your mother has seen fit to prepare a bag for you.” He motioned to the young woman who did appear quite youthful, though had suddenly aged. At the idea of losing her daughter she had begun to fall apart.
Her mother rose and came back with a brown leather pouch, simple in design, filled with just the basics. As she got to you, pressing it to your hands, she smiled and spoke softly, “There are offerings for every Pantheon in there. There is one more item but… Do not go through the bag until you need to. Keep it safe and keep it close.”
Her words were cryptic and you didn’t like how they sounded. It was kind of her to put offerings for the gods, but one more item? What did that mean? As the soldiers who had accompanied Fury began to lead you out into the torrential downpour you wished you could ask. You had wanted her to explain what she meant and to tell you she’d see you soon. The truth was, no one knew what that meant. Being chosen by the gods, if that was really the case, meant you were more than just a mortal on earth.
The rain was warm, thankfully, as it worked to immediately soak through. The red dye from the rope bled against the grey fabric clinging to your drenched form. You felt guilty that the gods would see you in such a state of affairs. If they even did at all. Even as you walked with the soldiers in silence, water making any conversation impossible, you felt so self-conscious. It was a surreal experience to be sure. You had lived a life of worship to the gods and goddesses and you had kept a modest world around you.
The walk itself had felt so much longer. You understood as the men stopped just shy of the base there was a terrible fear at the idea of moving forward. None wanted to be present at the gods showing themselves. If this was for you then they were not to be a part of it. Whatever role it was you had, it was a role you played alone.
Turning you watched as they quickly dissipated, even Fury turning without a word, leaving you at the base of an impossibly large mountain. Around you was wildlife, though the trees appeared to offer little shelter from the rain. At once you felt overwhelmed with the weight of the world on your shoulders. Soaked and cold you leaned back against a large rock, slowly lowering yourself until you were seated on the ground. What sorts of gods would allow this, anyway? What goddess would look down and want a young woman alone and afraid? What benevolent being would allow any of this?
You began to sob as you held your knees to your chest, suddenly so unsure of anything. What if they didn’t even want you? Would you sit at the base of the mountain until you died? Would that be better? If the world was truly falling apart, would this be the best?
Maybe it was the crying that was making you so tired, or perhaps the rain, even as it was beginning to let up. Whatever it was you felt a fog drifting through your own mind, settling down on your body as sleep suddenly seemed so real. And despite the sadness, the pain, the confusion… despite all of it, you slowly nodded off.
“Is that her, Sam?” Pietro, or Hermes as he was known, knelt down by the soaked young woman with a leather pouch around her torso. He pushed back her hair to see her face, deep asleep.
Sam, or Eros as he was known to the Pantheon, nodded, “That’s her. They really think we summoned her?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, wings allowing him to flit and float about above Hermes. The man was still crouched, sneakers digging into the ground.
Pietro sighed, “Mortals don’t always understand. We know she’s important to him but… they’re afraid of her. They know she’s been kept safe. I suppose now is as good a time as any.” He scooped your limp form up in his arms with ease and agility. For him, it was nothing. He was a god, after all.
There was a smirk from Sam, “Bring her to Apollo first. I have a strong feeling Clint will want to have a conversation. We can’t just dump her at you-know-who’s doorstep. That’s how we got into this mess, anyway. Let’s see if she can’t work some magic those mortals think she has. Maybe she’s got a way with words.” Sam flew further up as Pietro lifted your form.
Pietro looked as though he were dancing as he lept and glided through the air, spinning and moving with no effort, “That’s a fair point. Apollo first, then we go from there.” He was going up further, pausing once as Sam began to disappear, “Hey, how’d you know that sleep spell would work, anyway?”
Sam just smirked, winking the way he always did, and went back to his own home atop Olympus.
Perhaps it would make things worse, Pietro wondered, but he didn’t know how. No, he knew that you might be the only one able to change the way things were going. You were the one they needed right now.