The God of Clay and Fennel Fire: A Retelling of The Golden Goose

Chapter VIII: The Moon Glows on Olympus

"Do you think me an idiot?"

Prometheus' spun around. Deucalion stood in the doorway, his arms crossed and his face set in a scowl.

"I want an answer," the young man stated after a minute of awkward silence.

For the first time in Prometheus' life, he felt unsure of what to say. "Uh, no. I don't think you're an idiot."

"Then why do you act like I am?" Deucalion's voice hitched, but Prometheus knew better than to assume sadness. His young protégé was upset. He probably didn't even fully understand the fire that burned deep in his gut.

Prometheus rolled his eyes and turned back to his table where he was filling a small bag with tools. Yet his chest tightened in guilt.

"You were gone for five months."

Prometheus paused, his brow furrowed. Time must have passed differently in the Oracle's cave.

Deucalion stepped into the building and sighed. "The reserves were gone after two weeks. We hunted with traps at first, eating meat raw. But then we lost four men to sickness. We've lost another ten to infections and attacks from wild animals. A dozen more are on the edge of death. You left without proper warning. And you abandoned us in our vulnerability."

But then he chuckled. "But the thing that really upsets me is that you're back now, and without even stopping by to see how your creations are doing, you're trying to break into Olympus."

Prometheus froze. "I'm doing no such thing."

Deucalion sneered. "Of course you're not... Despite what you say, you do truly believe I'm an idiot. I've been standing in the doorway for the past ten minutes and you've been whispering a moronic poem the entire time. I know what 'Return the heat to smith and bronze' means. You are going to try to take fire back from Olympus."

"Sometimes, Deucalion, I regret your creation."

Deucalion's lips pressed tightly, trying not to grin. He had won. "No, you don't."

Prometheus sighed. "No. I don't."

"I'm coming with you."

"By Hades' beard, you are."

"Hades doesn't have a beard. You can't stop me."

"I'm a Titan. I could kill you."

Deucalion nodded understandingly but smirked. "You could, but if you use your other gift—the one where you look forward in time—you will see that you don't end up killing me and I do end up going with you to Olympus."

Prometheus shook his head. "If I get caught, Zeus will not hesitate to turn you to ashes just to spite me."

"Do you plan on getting caught?"

"Of course not."

Deucalion crossed his arms and looked down at his well-shaped arms. "Then I think planning on my sudden combustion is a little premature."

Prometheus could have continued arguing, but he didn't have time. He turned back to his worktable and picked up his sac, swinging it across his shoulder.

"I'm not going to stop you Deucalion, but I will also not grieve if you die."

"Yes, you will."

Prometheus rolled his eyes. If there was one thing that Deucalion had to fear was careless arrogance from being right all the time.

"Fine, but you'd better keep up."

They walked outside and Deucalion began to walk northwards, towards Mount Olympus. He stopped in his tracks once he realized Prometheus wasn't following.