Who: Prometheus and Heracles What: Being released from the chains Where: Prometheus rock When: A long time ago Warnings: Language, mentions of birds eating livers, mentions of torture
If asked, Prometheus could never tell what was worse. The nights where he slept fitfully when his liver regrew, or the dawn where he heard the screech and the eagle once again opened his side to peck at his innards. Probably both. He'd never get used to this pain, but his voice was long hoarse from screaming and he could only write against the chains. Chains he didn't even deserve.
Zeus had punished him too harshly. Him and his creations. They'd been suffering, cold and without meat. He'd only done what any father would have done for his children, and Prometheus had thought of them that way. Now they were all gone, and he chained to this rock with only the bird as company. A sharp peck got him straining against the binds, as if it knew the thoughts inside his head. Probably did.
But even so, even now decades after his theft, Prometheus refused to beg. Curse and scream, to be sure, but never beg. He wouldn't give Zeus the simple satisfaction.
Since the death of his family at his own hands Hercules had set out a series of labors that any mortal man could not finish. Hercules was different. As the son of Zeus he held an uncanny strength which went beyond his physical talents. Through the course of these tasks he hoped for a sense of retribution and redemption.
Hera was vindictive and she'd lashed out at him taking the only thing that meant anything of worth to the great hero. His family. He still woke many nights with blood stained hands and a conscious that was far from clear. Nothing could wash away his crimes.
It was during his eleventh, and near final labor that Hercules came across Prometheus chained to his rock. He'd been in search for the garden to retrieve the apples of Hesperides. He came up empty handed the longer he searched. While many would give up, Hercules was determined.
That bird that circled over Prometheus was shot down by an arrow. It flapped around the rock as if over something dead. Something decaying. It wasn't until he approached that he saw the fellow Greek.
He didn't even realize the eagle was dead until the pecking stopped. He tried to focus his eyes, but it had been so long. After a long while, he could focus on the shadow, wondering if he was imagining things. "...shot it." His voice was weak, strained by the decades of screaming and not having anyone for company.
Prometheus was wondering if he was imagining this. Wondering if Zeus was playing another cruel trick. In stead he laughed. His wound still bled, and the pain reminded him he was alive. Alive, and probably mad. Few wouldn't be. "shot it, and he'll kill you, string you up right besides me."
He laughed again before he coughed, taking the moment to fall against the chains. He had a moments reprieve if anything.
"Who?" Hercules asked poking at the bird with his foot and snapping the arrow lose, throwing the large animal to the side with a kick.
Throwing off his lion skin from around his shoulders he let it drop looking over the chains that held this man tight to this rock. His fingers threaded through it's metal bonds tugging lightly before letting it drop.
"Been here long." He noted, pulling out a sack made out of cow's hide filled with water. He squeezed out some so the man could drink.
He took the water gratefully, although he was a sack of bones at the base of the rock. He'd been suspended for so long, that just sitting was a luxury. Once he could drink no more water he looked up to the man. "Been here forever. And Zeus. He put me up there. Don't think you can take me down. That and the eagle."
He found himself laughing again. Only just released and he was already expecting the enforcers to swoop down on him to chain him right back on the rock, with this stranger for company.
"I fear, I've gone and lost my manners." He gave another laugh, setting his head on the rock to look up at this man. "Prometheus. And what do I call you?"
The chains were an easy feat for the young and strong Hercules. As he dropped them from his hands down to the ground where their weighted hold on Prometheus would no longer hold him broken and distressed.
Hercules stood tall pulling the lion's main back over his shoulders and clasping the clutch in the front where it made a magnificent cloak.
He squinted into the sun fishing out a blanket from his bag that he threw around the man's shoulders. He'd baked in this heat a long time.
"Hercules. A son of Zeus." Though Hercules knew not much of his father. He turned looking down to the tattered man. "I know nothing of you. Or your curse. He will not hurt me." Though the young man had been through a world of mental anguish.
Again he laughed, "gods be good. The Father shackles me and the son releases me. Oh irony. It makes for a cruel mistress." He shook his head, still laughing. Any mind would fracture. His had as well.
"You cannot be certain of that. Zeus punishes all as he wishes." He licked at his cracked ribs, reaching out his hand, "water, please." He needed more water. When he had his fill he smiled, watching this boy.
"I see it now, the resemblance. Not his wife's though. I'll tell you who I am boy, and why your father shackled me. I'm a Titan son. Born well before you, before even that mighty father of yours. Once, I made mortals out of claw. And I gave them fire. Zeus had taken it from them. If you have children, you will know that no father can see them suffer. I made sure they survived, had the tools they needed. And for that, I was bound to this rock where your father's eagle pecked out my liver every day."
He gave the boy a small smile, "so you know my story. What is yours?"
Hercules handed him the water container and watched him with a stoic expression, as even a smile couldn't crack against his face. At the mention of children his face dropped, eyes loosing their luster as he stepped back in time for a moment. It happened often these days. When he slept, when a single word was spoken and he remembered why he was on this quest.
"Am punished enough. Mother was no goddess." His teeth gritted together holding his arms around his chest. He looked as if he could crush something. "Killed my family." The words themselves made him burn inside. He rubbed a hand over his face turning it away from this stranger as he looked out to the land around. Hera had induced her venom on him as she did many of Zeus' children. What he had down clawed at his brain. He would not forgive himself until he had finished the tasks he had set out to do.
He felt pity for the poor boy. Killed his own family, probably because he'd gotten involved with the Gods due to birth. There'd been many times that he'd wished the Titans had won, rather then the Olympians.
He just smiled, "sit down, son. I've looked up at everything for too long. Let me get my strength, let my wound heal and I'll send you on your way." He let his legs stretch, just enjoying that they could stretch now. They'd supported his weight for the last few decades. Sitting was lovely.
"So what brings you all the way out here? Where are you going?"
Hercules gave Prometheus a tight nod and settling down beside him as requested. Hercules himself needed a rest, time to charge down with his mind beating him up back and forth.
"Am looking for a garden." It was one of his twelve labors and the closer he got to the finish line the harder each task became. He was a fighter though, and he did not give up even when all odds were against him.
He gave a chuckle, "plenty of gardens around here. Look boy I owe you. You cut me down from that rock, and even if I go back on it for now I'm free. I haven't been free in ages. I've been here since you're mother's father was but a twinkle in his sire's eye. I want to help you. Honor demands it." Wincing he shifted and set his hand on the open wound. It'd heal soon enough. At least he wouldn't have that to worry about.
"Might be I know where your garden is."
"This one has apples of Hesperides. Need them. It is my task. Must be done." He looked toward the other man with a hopeful glance. "Part of my punishment." Only this was his own punishment. Hercules himself had asked to be given these tasks.
"My redemption."
He gave the poor boy a comforting smile. He knew about redemption, about suffering. How many had he lost? Had even his own blood escaped Zeus? Prometheus wouldn't know. Now this poor boy was probably chasing ghosts.
"You're on the right track. Keep going North, until there's no more North to go. You'll find enemies there, no doubt. Those apples are a fine thing to want." He gave a tired smile and tried to sit up. "You're a good kid. Many have come, and left me here to rot. You're the first one to let me go. Go North. You'll find your apples there." He offered his hands, "many thanks Hercules. I'll count you as a friend from now on."
They were alike in pain, though nothing hurt worse than the mental anguish one could put themselves through. Maybe he was chasing something that would never happen. He may never be happily and settled again, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. He would finish this with his head held high. The gods would listen to him and see his stance, and then even Hera couldn't torment him than she already had.
"Enemies will fail. I will not fail." He looked at the extended hand, offering his own shake, which in the grip alone proved how much strength the boy held within him. Enough to crush stone. "Welcome." He nodded.
"Some grip on you there boy." He smiled, although it made him uncomfortable. He'd met another young boy with such strength before. "I mean it though. I owe you a debt. I will repay it. Not now, not tomorrow. But call on me, and I will pay my debt to you."
When he finally felt strong enough to get back up he did so, giving the rock one last look before looking to the young boy. "You'll do well for yourself. I'm going home. If I still have one."
"I know," he said in a way that could have been somewhat humorous, but with that strong face it was hard to tell if he was serious or not. "Will take you at your word." He tipped his head standing once again to be on his way.
He had no home either not anymore, perhaps was why he pressed himself to go after such daunting tasks. He needed something to do with his life when what was his life was taken away by his own hand.
"Home," he repeated in distant tone. "Hope you find it."