Gods Familial Bond Short Stories & Novels

My younger brother was severe panic fits. The healers said any sudden shock could kill him. So, my entire life was set to mute. I never dared to laugh. I never dared to cry. I wasn’t even allowed to bleed out loud. My parents would hug me and say, "You're our strong one. Your brother needs us. Be patient with him, alright?" Then came that day. I accidentally knocked over a sacred ritual tripod. The loud crash sent my brother straight into panic. For the first time, my father pushed me away with a blast of divine force. "Can’t you be careful?" he roared. "Are you trying to kill him?" I slammed violently against the stone pillars of the temple. The sheer impact ruptured my heart. But they all rushed to my screaming brother. Nobody looked at me. Agony tore through my chest as I lay on the cold floor, my vision fading to dark. They thought my brother came first. They thought my little blow could wait. They didn’t know that a ruptured heart don't wait for anyone. Not even the gods.

My daughter, Chloe, had begged my partner, Poseidon, to take her to the mortal market. After she asked again and again, he finally agreed. But when the day came, something “came up,” and he left her in the care of his ex, Thalia. Claiming that “Poseidon’s children need to be tested,” Thalia simply abandoned Chloe in the middle of the market. I didn’t have time to argue with Poseidon. I rushed to the market and found Chloe huddled in a corner, her face streaked with tears. When Poseidon saw her, he just frowned. “My child should not be so weak.” “Thalia was right,” he said. “Chloe is too coddled. Ethan would never act like this.” Ethan is Thalia’s son. I looked at him, and a chill washed over me. He had chosen Thalia and her son. Again. He had abandoned Chloe and me. Just then, Chloe tugged gently on my sleeve. She choked back a sob. “Lord Poseidon is right, Mother. I’m okay. Let’s go home.” Poseidon and I both froze.

The night I died, my family was busy celebrating my sister's accession to the Hall of Valhalla. We are Valkyries. My mother was a battle warrior, and when she gave birth to the twins, her excitement was above the nine clouds. The reason– my sister was born with golden wings. A very rare colour mentioned in the prophecy–Valkyrie with gold will lead the others to stop Ragnarok. My sister brought fame to our family. I thought we would be happier until I realised the harsh reality of my own parents. Because I was born with black wings, my own parents saw me as taboo and refused to introduce me to the universe as their own. And when the time came for my sister's accession, afraid that dark forces might try to hurt her, my parents made a horrific choice. They dragged me to the edge of the clan's cliffside courtyard, chained me down as bait to draw the monsters away, saying through the barred doors: "Your sister is destined for glory. You were born broken—the least you can do is buy her time to escape.” “Mom… What if they hurt me?” I choked out. “They won't!” My mother spat, her voice laced with disdain as she shot a glance over my wings, “The moment they see your wings, they will realise you aren't worth their time.” My sister, Freya, smirked at me, saying, “Goodbye, sister.” I watched her retreating figure, wondering what my parents would do after they found out they had been wrong about the prophecy since the very beginning. What will they do when they find out that Freya was never the chosen one as they assumed, that my dark wings they always disdain actually belong to Midnight Raven? Will they regret it then?

There were two famous good-for-nothings the gods loved to gossip about. One was me, Vera, the little princess of the Star Court, with most of my twin starblood ruined, good for nothing but eating, drinking, and playing. The other was my twin brother Orson. His life-fire was broken, and he was unable to stand being anywhere with too many people. But our eldest brother, Theron, was the next King of the Gods. Our second brother, Drake, was the Dragon Sovereign, who held every gold vein of the dragon clan in his hand. Our elder sister, Sylvia, was the heir to the Sacred Spring, the one art that could rekindle a dying life-fire. Our mother was the last High Priestess of the Court of Chaos, born able to carry different bloodlines of the gods. The day the star sea collapsed, Orson and I gave up most of our twin starblood to mend our siblings' fates. They lived. They became the three strongest elders the gods had ever known. And Orson and I became two cripples. Our days were simple: mooch meals off our eldest brother, spend our second brother's gold, and wait for our sister to feed us. That was until my sweet tooth carried me to a banquet thrown for Circe, the woman everyone said would become our eldest brother's bride. At that banquet, Circe, the daughter of House Siren, held up one blurry memory echo and insisted it was me who had climbed into Lord Theron's carriage the night before, stealing her betrothal to the Divine Court. I explained patiently, "You've got the wrong person. That was my brother. And this is my brother too." Circe exploded on the spot. She used her power to cripple me all over again, and nearly killed Orson. "One shameless slut, one useless idiot. A match made in heaven." It wasn't until my brother and I lay barely breathing that my three siblings tore House Siren's wards to shreds, and the whole realm of the gods shook.