Work Text:
Herophile had been helping heroes for millennia. She was not so brazen about it like some of her cousins, but it didn't change the fact that she did, in fact, help them.
'Friend of Heroes' they called her. Well, those who remembered she even existed did. Sometimes, she was mentioned as one of Poseidon's daughters. Most of the time, mortals remembered the Erythaean Sybil who carried the same name, forgetting about the one came before her.
Herophile did not concern herself with that. Those who cared to know her simply would know her, and if the rest wanted to squander her assistance, then it was their choice to make.
Still, it probably did not help that she had a slightly different definition of 'a hero' than most of their society did. Demigods like Herakles were celebrated for their great deeds, caring not for the trail of innocent bodies left in their wake. It was especially prevalent in the times when they were in the height of their power, hunger for great tales of bravery and honor seeping into every aspect of their society.
Now, Herophile could admit the deeds those 'heroes' performed were indeed great. However, one did not have to be good to be great, and it was exactly there where lain the problem for her. A man who did great, but terrible deeds was simply powerful. He was not a hero.
A hero was someone who, yes, did great things, but they were also good. They fought for the sake of others, not for the hopes of fame or worship. When they did terrible things, they did it in the name of protection, not for the sake of destruction itself. They had a good heart, and most of the time, they never even wanted to end up in those situation in the first place, instead pushed by circumstances to step up and take the burden.
Those were the kind of heroes Herophile lent her help to.
When it came to her Father's demigod children, they unfortunately fell into the 'great men' category most of the time. They were children of the sea stranded on land, and instead of connecting to their heritage, they brought sea's power to wreck havoc on land.
They couldn't really be blamed for it, Herophile supposed. She grew tired of her Father's catchphrase "the sea doesn't like to be restrained" millennia ago, but it didn't make it any less true. Demigod children of Poseidon had truly great power, but they never quite belonged anywhere.
Too human for Atlantis and too chaotic for humans. They had no place to safely indulge in the might of the sea coursing through their veins, so they left a trail of destruction wherever they went. It was as much in their nature as it was for children of Apollon to languish in the sun.
Of course, that wasn't to say that all of them were simply instruments of devastation. Once in a while, a rare pearl could be found, one who inherited the great capacity for kindness her Father possessed for few chosen people.
When such a child was born, Herophile took care to observe them much more closely then she would normally. Not all demigods were heroes, but when it came to her half-siblings, she allowed herself to help them out, even if they went on no quests and would be eventually forgotten, as opposed to the ones who were woven into the history forever. They were family after all, and family always came first.
Perseus Jackson was one of such pearls.
Usually, when a child of the sea was born, the whole kingdom of Atlantis knew about them from the moment they first drew breath. Celebrations were thrown and people rejoiced in the new life, because even if they were a land-dweller, they still had ocean in their veins and that meant something to the Atlantinians.
No such celebrations were held for Perseus for a very simple reason — no one knew he existed. There was not even a whisper, which was truly impressive, given how fast the news spread in their kingdom. Herophile would not know of him either, if it weren't for the Depths' riddles. After all, mortals confused her with the Erythaean Sybil not only because they shared the same name.
Even other gods sometimes forgot how old she precisely was. She was one of the oldest of Poseidon's godly children, born during the time when he still shared the burden of the domain of prophesy with his brother. She was not the only one of Poseidon's children who inherited the knowing, however she was the only was whose domains included prophecies.
When the brothers passed down the domain to Apollon, they mostly lost the ability to hear whispers of the future, but some of it still remained. In her Father's case, it manifested as the knowing. Herophile, though, never passed down her own ability, which became useful over the years. The power to decipher prophecies about future heroes greatly aided her in her role — if she knew who were to become a hero, she could observe them earlier and she would know what they would need on their path to greatness.
Very few gods knew about the Depths. It's existence was a closely guarded secret and one of the very, very few Oracles not under Apollon's control. The Depths were, as a matter of fact, not under anyone's control as it had a will of it's own. It merely spoke in riddles, and only if one was chosen by it, they could even begin to try to decipher them.
As luck would have it, Herophile simply adored riddles and puzzles.
The last time she listened to the whispers of the Depths, they seemed almost… excited. The little sounds overlapped each other as they fought to be heard, the sand wove itself into complicated patterns and the pressure rooted her to the spot until she heard everything it wanted to tell her.
And wasn't that an intriguing thing indeed? Usually, the Oracle held itself with a strange sort of dignity, always making sure Herophile knew she was only hearing the prophesies because it permitted her to do so. It never allowed her insight into things other than the fate of various heroes, and even that was only because she always treated it with due respect and she never tried to overstep her boundaries. For it to give her the prophesies with such enthusiasm meant that a huge change hung on the horizon.
Herophile immediately got to work on translating the haunting notes and whispers into written text, working tirelessly for many days without breaks. There was a sense of urgency pushing her forwards, her knowing lightning up brighter than it had in a long time. When she was finally done, she understood.
A Bridge, A Cord, An Anchor
A Metamorphosis, A Luminescence, A Riptide
The Hope-Bringer, The Destroyer
The Light-Seeker, The Hurricane-Maker
The Unknowing Kindness, The Beloved Martyr
The Depths, unlike the land's Oracles, never gave a single, inevitable path to follow. It offered branches a person could follow, some more likely than others, but never set in stone. The paths it painted now showed an undeniable truth — the path this hero would take would either make or break the whole pantheon. Either way, they would all be changed forever.
Olympus to preserve or raze.
It seemed like the three brothers' oath on the River Styx had been broken, and Herophile was willing to bet Zeus was not the only one who had a forbidden child running around.
The Depths served her a truly wondrous puzzle, one she could not wait to solve piece by piece. In her mind there was no doubt that the hero it spoke about was about Poseidon's child, which gave question to the first puzzle piece; how did she not know about her newest half-sibling?
While she could understand the secrecy given the oath, it was strange there was not even a whisper of the child's existence. Her poor Father must be bursting at the seems from holding back boasting about his recent-born darling pearl. For him to keep it a secret spoke to the preciousness of the child.
It was admirable, but Herophile was now interested, so his effort would be, unfortunately, for naught. She spoke to the Naiads and Nereids she had a good rapport with and asked them to keep an eye out for a child with salt in their veins, discretely of course. They didn't disappoint, as always, and after a month she had a list of land-dwellers who were sea gods' children. It was a very short list, featuring only six of them, given how sea gods preferred to have their children with other citizens of Atlantis.
All of the children had very little divinity emanating from them, and that is why she nearly missed him. He was so unnoticeable that she almost dismissed him outright, but her knowing urged her to take a closer look. And oh, wasn't it just fascinating.
Little Perseus Jackson was at the first glance simply a son of some minor god, maybe even a Nereid. Everything about him implored her to write him off as someone of no importance, to forget she even saw him. It took monumental effort to not fall into that impression, to keep searching, but she persisted.
When she finally broke through the illusion, she was very glad for it, for there was no mistaking him for anyone else but Poseidon's son. Perseus had chaotic black curls whipping around his head and sea-green eyes identical to her own, with the might of the sea rolling from his tiny body in waves that would clue in anyone who looked at him for even a fraction of a second.
Although… he looked very similar to her Father, yes, but the shape of his face tugged at a memory of someone she thought she had almost forgotten. He was too far away to be sure, but the sight unsettled her a little.
If Herophile had it her way, she would immediately pull the little darling aside and make sure he was indeed the one the Depths spoke about, but the education building he resided in was very clearly marked in warnings to stay away, left by Ares. It looked like her half-sibling was not the only demigod attending the establishment. It complicated things a little, but she was nothing if not patient, so she instructed the Naiads to keep an eye on him and settled in to wait.
Her restraint was rewarded very quickly and she was finally able to meet with the child face to face. She wore a form of a child to appear more friendly, and it seemed to only highlight how truly small the boy was. From close up, there was no mistaking it — Perseus Jackson wore a face which had an uncanny resemblance to her dead niece, Pallas.
She quickly locked away that observation, for it wouldn't do to scare the boy away by letting him witness the grief she carried around her shoulders like a cloak. She prepared to introduce herself, but the most interesting thing happened; Perseus seemed to actually recognize her.
There were many who wouldn't know who she was even if she showed herself in all her godly glory, saying nothing about when she had a disguise — and oh, just when she thought he couldn't be any more intriguing, she felt a kindred power reaching out to hers in recognition. He had the knowing, and that made everything so much more complicated.
Her Father had many, many demigod children throughout his whole existence, but never before had there been any mortal who inherited the knowing. For a mortal to have it was simply… extraordinary. She had a feeling this demigod inherited much more power than what met the eye.
Perhaps the most peculiar part of their conversation was the boy's insistence to not tell Poseidon about his knowing. He seemed absolutely terrified at the prospect, which raised so many other questions than Herophile already had. Did he know he was a his son? How did he even know he was a demigod? And why was he petrified of their Father?
She was discovering more and more of the puzzle pieces, but each of them had such bizarre shapes she didn't know how to fit them together.
Regardless of how unwarranted his fear was, she still found herself vowing to keep his secret. There was just something about Perseus that made her feel unbearably fond of him, regardless of the fact she knew him for only few short moments. Perhaps it was the resemblance to Pallas, or the bright current of his knowing; whatever it was, she was now invested and wanted to make sure the little pearl was well taken care of.
She would love to question her father about this extensively, but she always kept her promises, so she would have to find a different way to uncover where Perseus's peculiarities came from. In her enthusiasm she regrettably didn't notice for a while that she was scaring the poor boy, but she hoped he would reach out to her when he was in need, given the fact she could not locate him while he was under the protective spell, presumably made by their Father, which hidden him from her.
Several months after the encounter, Herophile received summons from Poseidon. She knew it was coming, naturally; the only surprize was how long it took. She expected to be thoroughly scolded the moment she returned from her meeting with Perseus. Her father went to great lengths to hide his little demigod after all, so she expected him to be displeased by her meddling, to say the very least.
She arrived at one of the hidden gardens of the palace, which was usually used for private conversations. It was nestled between outer walls of the building, giving it a sort of mysterious feeling. The garden itself consisted of beautifully formed coral reefs, creating formations depicting various creatures found in the ocean. Poseidon swam in front of a coral forming a zebra shark, an unreadable expression on his face. Herophile swam closer and hovered next to him, noting the rigid set of his shoulders.
"Good morning, Father. What sort of matter did you wish to discuss with me?"
"For someone who supposedly loves riddles, you are awfully direct." Poseidon rumbled, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.
"Oh, if you wish for me to speak in riddles, it can certainly be arranged. I simply thought you did not enjoy them, given how often you complain about them."
He barked a laugh and Herophile felt a hint of satisfaction for managing to defuse situation a little. With a wave of his hand, Poseidon's power stretched out around them, making sure no one could hear a word they said.
"Very well, let's get to the point then. Apollon asked for my audience yesterday."
"Oh?" She let out surprized. Talking about about her cousin was certainly not how she expected this conversation to go.
"Mhm. I trust you know that what I'm about to tell you is not to be repeated?" He phrased it like a question, but Herophile could tell it was very much a command.
"Of course, Father. This conversation will stay between us."
"Good." He let out a weary sigh and finally turned to face her. "A natural-born prophet has been born. Apollon came to me to ask for my help, because they are shielded from his sight. Whether it is done by the prophet themselves, or by someone else is unclear. The only thing he manged to read from their aura was that they are of the sea."
Herophile was speechless. A natural-born prophet who was outside of Apollon sight? It sounded like a bad jest, and yet there was no amusement to be found on her Father's face. It was unconceivable to think that such a treasure would be anywhere else than with their very protective patron. Natural-born prophets were very delicate creatures and she shuddered to think what kind of damage could be done to them when left to their own devices.
Before she could gather herself, Poseidon continued. "As you can imagine, it is a dire situation. From what my nephew told me, the prophet is very powerful and…" Something sad flashed inside his eyes, turning them into a deep blue whirlpool, "And they are very, very young. He estimates them to be about seven years old."
She let out a gasp and the puzzle pieces in her mind begun to slot together. A young boy and a young prophet, both with terrifying amounts of power, both hiding from their world, both so, so alone.
Oh dear. Perseus had no idea he was a demigod. The strange way he reacted to being called by his full name made sense now — it probably brought forth visions of future where his heritage was undeniable. He was deliberately oblivious to the salt in his veins as a way to protect himself from the danger this knowledge would bring.
He was so little and he had already seen so much, it's no wonder he was petrified at the sight of her. Was that why he didn't want their Father to know about his knowing? Or… If Apollon tried to connect them through visions, it may be possible there has been a misunderstanding. Was the 'him' in question not Poseidon, but actually Apollon? It would make sense if the boy didn't know he was also a demigod.
Her Father interrupted her frantic musings, "I requested for you to come here to ask if you heard anything from the Depths that would help us find him."
Herophile had a choice to make. If she was right, she didn't actually promise to not tell anything to Poseidon, but to Apollon. She could tell him everything she observed in those short moments with Perseus, what the Depths foretold about his fate. She ought to do so, the child definitely shouldn't be left to run around the mortal world, risking losing him to the havoc the visions could wreck on his mind.
However… her knowing pulsed with a strong warning: 'stayaway / heissafer / heisprotected'. It had never led her astray before. Her previous assumption that Poseidon was the one to veil Perseus from their world was looking less and less likely. It is not possible her Father simply decided to not confront her about her meeting with his son, which must mean he didn't know it happened at all.
Some greater power was at play here, a power that was able to hide Perseus even from Poseidon's view. There were very few beings who had the skill and strength to do something like this, and Herophile had an inkling suspicion on who that power belonged to.
If she was right, there was only one course of action to take.
"I'm truly sorry, Father, but I heard nothing of substance from the Depths that could aid you." She said with an appropriately apologetic tone.
"Are you absolutely certain?" His gaze bore down on her, heavy and relentless, but she inherited her stubbornness from him and she did not yield.
"Yes."
Poseidon looked at her for a few moments longer, and then sagged with disappointment, running a hand down his face. He looked very old in that moment. "Very well. I would ask you then to keep an eye and ear out in your future divinations."
"Naturally. Now, tell me how that puzzle I gifted you recently is coming along." He groaned in dismay and she doubled over from the force of her laughter. It was astonishing how horrible her Father was at puzzles.
They spent the next hour catching up, leaving the weight of their lives behind for a moment. Finally, she set out to leave, the revelations still replaying themselves in a loop in her mind. She was almost out of the garden when Poseidon's voice stopped her.
"Herophile."
"What is it, Father?" She asked without turning around.
"A storm is coming." When she looked back, he was facing away from her, his eyes once again fixed on the zebra shark formation.
"Yes, it is."
A storm was indeed coming and Herophile could not wait to see what sort of chaos their precious pearl would bring.