Chapter Text
Mount Olympus was the highest mountain in Greece. High above it among the clouds is where the mighty Gods resided. The sound of Apollo’s lyre could be heard floating down from the mountain top. A great castle-like building made of marble sat upon the clouds. Waterfalls spilled around it, dripping over the clouds. Grecian flora grew around the marble. As the sound of the lyre played the Gods of Olympus celebrated a birth. The son of Hera and Zeus was brought into the world, his name was Oliver. It was a time of happiness for all involved. Many gifts were bestowed upon the child. From his parents a pegasus formed from the very clouds themselves; he would grow alongside Oliver as a friend and valiant steed. Athena gifted him scrolls upon scrolls of knowledge and wisdom he could read when he was much older. Artemis bestowed upon him a bow with perfect aim and poison tipped arrows. The Gods continued to give him gifts that would help him along as he grew into the God he was meant to be.
Everyone except Hades.
He leaned against a marble pillar, watching them all celebrate. No one seemed to notice his arrival. Hades was the last to arrive and had nothing to give to Oliver. He wove his way through the group of Gods and found his way to Oliver’s bassinet. He leaned over the infant with disdain on his face. The rest of the Gods had a glow about them. Whether they were pale or dark skinned, they stood around them with their golden glows and better than thou attitudes. Their chitons and himatius were made of the best fabrics. Little Oliver would grow up to be just like them. He already had his own godly glow about him. Hades had darkness around him. While the other Gods wore bright colors, his himatius was pure black. He gripped the edges of the bassinet, letting the shadows swirl around him. He glared down at the baby.
This child would be his downfall one day or so said the fates. They were never wrong. His plans to take over Olympus would be ruined if Oliver was allowed to continue to live. The only thing Hades wanted in this world was to get revenge against his brother. His brother who cursed him to an eternity of running the Underworld. An eternity of fear and hatred from all including the other Gods. He was not considered an Olympian; he was an outcast. While they celebrated and feasted on ambrosia and suckled upon nectar, he sat on his throne, alone.
The words of the fates swirled around in his head.
In 18 years precisely / The planets will align ever so nicely.
The time to act will be at hand / Unleash the Titans, your monstrous band.
Then the once-proud Zeus will finally fall / And you, Hades, will rule all!
But a word of caution to this tale / Should Oliver fight, you will fail.
Flames formed in Hades’ hands. The baby giggled up at him. Zeus put a hand on his shoulder and steered him away from the child. He did not think that Hades was a threat to his son, no, Zeus thought his brother was a joke. He led him away and thanked him for being there, chuckled to himself about the possibility of Hades working himself to death. It was enough to drive a God mad. To Hades, Zeus was a fool. The way he treated his wife, the way he pranced around the human world as if nothing mattered, he was a damned fool. He did not deserve to rule the Gods as he did.
That night while all of Greece and all of Olympus slept, Hades’ minions crept into Oliver’s room. They stole the baby from his crib and went tumbling down to earth. With a crash, they landed in front of a farm owned by two mortals. The minions known as Pain and Panic held the infant down as he wailed. They had a potion from Hades. A special concoction that would turn a God mortal. Oliver had to drink every drop for the potion to work. Pain shoved the bottle into the baby’s mouth and forced the liquid down his throat. His godly glow began to fade as he became mortal.
A noise startled the minions sending them running. The bottle fell away and shattered on the ground. The last drop never reached Oliver’s lips. The farmer and his wife came to investigate the sounds of the crash and the baby’s cries. Robert and Moira found Oliver crying on the ground seemingly abandoned. He wore nothing but a diaper and a gold medal with the symbol of the Gods around his throat. Moira suspected the infant was a gift from the Gods for they had tried for many years to have children of their own, but could never conceive.
They would soon discover that there was something special about Oliver. Because he did not swallow the last drop of Hades’ potion he retained God-like strength. Even as an infant he could lift one hundred times his own weight and he would only get stronger.
Pain and Panic scurried back to Hades. They believed Oliver to be completely mortal, but their mission had been to kill the boy. That is what they told Hades. They promised him the child was dead and would be no trouble for him and his future plans. With that, Hades set out to destroy the other Gods and take over Olympus. His plan would take eighteen long years, but to him he had all the time in the world.
All the while, Oliver grew up on a farm, unaware of his true parentage and the destiny that awaited him.