your beauty never ever scared me

prologue

We were searching for reasons to play by the rules;

But we quickly found, It was just for fools

- Ghost, Mary on a cross

History is the story of victors.

Hercules. Theseus. Perseus. Ajax. Achilles.

Of the ones that won. The ones that did not give in. Those who defied the odds, and those that rose above the monsters that surrounded them, to kill them, to destroy them, and to reach greater heights. Those that make your blood rush faster, your head stand up straighter, and your eyes glow brighter when you hear about them

The tales that are regaled about from fireplace to fireplace. Around swords, around children, around rounds of beer. The same story, in a different setting.

Heroes are always remembered. Looked up to. Their flaws overlooked. Their feats honorified. Their glory lasts for centuries, for no one forgets them.

But what about those not heroes?

Those who are simply living out their lives for the sake of living. Those who were not strong enough, not lucky enough, not powerful enough, not fast enough, not talented enough.

For every hero, there are thousands of failure. People whose lives are obscured by the dull fog of history that settles over all things with time.

The baker whose house was ruined in war. The boy whose family was killed by a god. The woman who was a victim but turned into a villian. The child who was killed by their jealous uncle.

They have their stories as well. But people tend to ignore them.

Why? Perhaps it makes them uncomfortable. Perhaps because there is no happy ending. No moral that could be learned. No smile at the end. No, "Let's win this war!" or something similar to rally men to.

Just ordinary lives. Something even despicable ones.

People making mistakes. People failing and dying. People who live lives of sadness. They are all stories as well- though they are not even half as well known as those of the heroes. Because they failed. They lost their temper. They killed. They got mad.

They were not heroes.

But that is what makes those stories just as real, if not more so, than those of the mightiest heroes.

-[]-

Long ago, before the gods sent heroes on quests, before modern arms were invented, and certainly before the time of heroes like Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, there was the sea.

And within it, were the beings of the sea.

Phorcys and Ceto were the gods of deep sea monsters. Primordial beings that were capable to controlling monsters that could crush mountains, tame seas and level cities with but a single stroke.

After the First War and the creation of man, when mortals began to hazard voyages over the sea, Zeus, lord of the skies had ordered Poseidon, god of the seas, to keep them under a strict watch. Not that he needed to caution the lord of the sea. Phorcys and Ceto ancient beings, and they were able to control monsters of the sea. If sailors turned to them instead of the children of Kronos in prayer, that would mean a loss of Poseidon's power.

Humans tended to place their trust in the most unlikely of places.

But they could not pray to those that they never could see. There was no reason to keep them at liberty- alive, of course, they had to stay, for the seas would be in uproar should their essence fade.