Commission: Ganymede and the triple H alliance (four self inserts wake up in Hades, Hephaestus, Hera and Ganymede and decide that things need to change ASAP): Ganymede I

I died on a Tuesday.

Or maybe it was a Wednesday, I honestly can't remember anymore. The details got fuzzy somewhere between the truck that definitely didn't see me and the absolute certainty that I was about to become a very messy statistic. What I do remember is the thought that flashed through my mind in that final second, not "I don't want to die" or "I have so much left to do," but rather, "Well, this is embarrassingly cliché."

Truck-kun strikes again. The patron saint of isekai protagonists everywhere.

Except I didn't wake up in a fantasy world with convenient status screens and overpowered cheat abilities. No, I woke up in ancient Greece, in the body of the one who was abducted by the king of the gods himself because he had been too pretty without the choice of saying no.

Lucky me.

The irony wasn't lost on me. I'd spent countless hours reading light novels and manga about people getting hit by trucks and reincarnating into better lives, lives where they got magic powers and harems and the chance to be heroes. Instead, I got to be Ganymede, the pretty boy Zeus couldn't keep his hands off, the cupbearer of the gods, the immortal who never asked for immortality. The cosmic joke of the century, really. Out of all the figures in Greek mythology I could have become, all the heroes and kings and warriors, I ended up in the body of arguably one of the most tragic and least known.

But then again, tragic was relative when you came with a cheat sheet of knowledge about how everything was supposed to go down and powers that definitely didn't belong in this universe.

The memories had hit me all at once when I woke up in this body. Not just my memories from my previous life, the boring existence of a twenty-something office worker who read too much fiction and dreamed of the fantastical, but Ganymede's memories too. Every humiliation, every violation, every moment of helpless rage and grief. Fourteen years old, that's how old he, I, had been when Zeus decided that wanting something meant taking it. Fourteen years old and ripped away from everything and everyone I loved because the king of the gods saw a pretty face and decided it belonged to him.

The original Ganymede had endured it all. Had to endure it, really, because what choice did a mortal-turned-immortal have against the might of Olympus? He'd kept hoping, kept believing that somehow, someway, things would get better. That he'd see his family again. That time would heal these wounds.

Time hadn't healed anything. Time had just taken everything away.

And now here I was, standing in Troy, looking down at a baby who would one day cause all of this to burn.

"So, this is Paris," a voice said beside me, rich and feminine and dripping with divine power. "Looking at the adorable baby, you would never believe the mess he would make in the future. How does it feel to look at the one who will be the cause of the destruction of your city? Feeling angry yet?"

I glanced at the infant in the arms of his mother, Hecuba. He was, objectively speaking, a cute baby. Round cheeks, tiny fists, the whole package. It was hard to reconcile this tiny, helpless thing with the man who would eventually steal Helen of Sparta and kickstart a war that would end in the complete annihilation of Troy. But I knew better than most that people weren't born monsters. They were made into them, shaped by choices and circumstances and the meddling of gods who treated mortal lives like game pieces.

"Not really," I said, keeping my voice low so only Hera could hear. "It's hard to truly be mad at a baby who did nothing yet. Also, everything would be fucking because of Aphrodite, Athena and you, Hera."

Hera, queen of the gods, the woman whose divine voice had spoken, made a sound of clearly exaggerated offense. "Me? I would be the least involved in this clusterfuck unlike Athena and Aphrodite. More than that, it could even be argued that the true culprit is Eris."

I gave her the stink eye, not caring that she was technically one of the most powerful beings in this universe. That was one of the perks of the abilities I'd gained when I woke up in this world, the ones that didn't belong here, the ones that made me dangerous in ways the original Ganymede never was. Fear wasn't something I felt much anymore, not even of the Olympians.

"You would have literally entered a wager of beauty with the literal goddesses of war and beauty for an apple bestowed by who you knew was the fucking goddess of discord," I said flatly. "At this point, it's as if that Hera had wanted shit to happen and she didn't care as long as she could be considered pretty."

"Woah, little reminder because you seem too heated, I am not that Hera," she said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "I am the new Hera, the better Hera, the Hera who took a chill pill and did some yoga to relax."

Despite everything, despite the weight of Ganymede's memories and the surrealness of this entire situation, I felt a small smile tug at my lips. "Does yoga even do anything when you're a deity?"

If anyone were told that him, Ganymede, and Hera were bantering, were joking like old friends, no one would have believed it. It would have been impossible if the two didn't share something that trumped almost any other reason to not be in the same surroundings. The both of them were once humans from Earth in 2025 who died and woke up within the bodies of deities with the memories of said deities and additional powers and abilities from what should have been fictional franchises, universes that said deities didn't have before they woke up as them.

It was insane. Completely, utterly insane. But it was also reality.

I wasn't the only one who'd been truck-kun'd into Greek mythology. Hera had been a stressed-out lawyer who'd had a heart attack at thirty-two. Hephaestus had been a disabled veteran who'd died in his sleep. Hades had been a hospice nurse who'd been in a car accident. All of us, dead in mundane, stupid ways. All of us, waking up in the bodies of gods with memories that weren't ours and powers that definitely were never part of the original Greek mythology package.

"Who the fuck knows, unless Hephaestus, Hades, you or I wanted to truly know, but what's the fun in that?" Hera said with a shrug. "Let's just say it's good resolutions being taken and that it is good for the mental."

She was right, of course. With the abilities we'd gained, knowledge was easy to acquire if we wanted it. We could know anything, see anything, understand anything. But there was something to be said for maintaining a little mystery, for not spoiling every surprise the universe had to offer. We'd already cheated death itself. Might as well leave some things unknown when they weren't that important.

"Still," Hera continued, her tone shifting to something more serious, "you truly don't care about Paris. We're gods, you know, and that's without mentioning all the other stuff. With a flick of your fingers, you could literally delete him from the timeline, ensure that no Fate shenanigans or bullshit would happen."

She wasn't wrong. The power I had now, the abilities that came from fictional universes that shouldn't exist in this world, they were vast. Reality-warping vast. I could erase Paris from existence with a thought. Could rewrite history, change destinies, unmake the Fates themselves if I really pushed. The original Ganymede had been helpless, a victim of circumstances he couldn't control. I was anything but helpless now.

But Hera's question deserved an answer, a real answer, not a flippant dismissal.

"Do you know when was the last time the original Ganymede, I, had seen my family?" I asked, my voice quiet. "It was when he, I, was fourteen. Ganymede's father was Tros, King of Troy, and his mother, Callirhoe, a water nymph. He had two older brothers he loved very much and who loved him very much in return. Life was as perfect as one could be in ancient Greece, and can you guess what happened?"

"And came around Zeus," Hera said softly, and there was genuine sympathy in her voice. She understood, in a way few others could. The original Hera had spent millennia dealing with Zeus's infidelities, his conquests, his complete disregard for consent or consequences. She'd been the villain in so many stories, the jealous wife who punished the victims instead of the perpetrator. But that wasn't who she was anymore. The woman who'd taken over Hera's body had made it very clear that Zeus's behavior was going to change, one way or another.

"Bingo, then came around Zeus," I confirmed, and I could feel the bitterness in my voice, Ganymede's bitterness, bleeding through. "He saw Ganymede, he saw me, and while many would say what he had felt was love, the truth was that what he felt was lust, lust for this pretty human-nymph princeling thing, and did as the powerful do. He took, took me from everything I knew, gave me, gave Ganymede immortality when he had only wanted to grow old and happy at the side of those he loved. Immortality was forced upon, and that was but the least of violations. Ganymede begged, Ganymede cried, Ganymede prayed, and nothing changed. Humiliation after humiliation, forced to stomach it from mortals and immortals, from deities like Hera, like you, who was angry at, shamed me instead of doing so with her philandering husband. Still, even through all of this, the original Ganymede stomached it."

The words came easier than I expected, but then again, these were truths that Ganymede had carried alone for so long. Maybe it was cathartic, saying them out loud to someone who could understand, who wouldn't judge or dismiss or minimize.

"It couldn't last forever, he thought," I continued, and I could feel the ghost of that desperate hope, that naive belief that someday things would be okay. "Sooner or later, he'd be back with his family, he lied to himself. And one day, one completely ordinary day, he learned that while he had hoped that time would wait for him, time hadn't. His siblings were all dead, their children rulers of different kingdoms. The same was the case for his father. His mother, who was a nymph, who probably could have come to him and said something at least, even given the illusion of comfort, he would have been fine with it, didn't come, so it probably means that she had given up on him or forgotten about him. So even though the original Ganymede, even though I had wishes to see again Troy, the city in which I had grown in, to walk and run and laugh through its streets once again, he didn't. He wasn't sure of anything, but he thought that even though the descendants of his siblings were strangers with familiar smiles, he wanted, if from afar, to see them, see if they were doing well, if they were happy, that maybe it would make him, make me feel something like what he once felt when he was young and everything was still perfect."

Hera was quiet for a long moment, and when she spoke, her voice was soft, careful. "And do you feel anything?"

I snorted, a harsh, ugly sound that didn't fit the divine beauty of Ganymede's face. "I don't. I fucking don't. It's funny and ironic and all of that shit, isn't it?"

I turned away from the scene inside the palace, where Priam and Hecuba were still arguing about what to do with their newborn son, the one prophesied to destroy Troy. I looked instead at the walls of the city, the high stone fortifications that were supposed to protect this place, that were supposed to keep its people safe. They wouldn't, of course. I knew how this story ended. Everyone who'd ever read Greek mythology knew how this story ended.

"I don't feel anything," I repeated, staring at those walls. "If anything, I feel disgusted by the everything of this place. Like yeah, it's truly just a city in ancient Greece, nothing before the seven wonders of the world, before illuminated skyscrapers, buildings with neon lights, castles, manors and the like. Maybe I feel this way because I was not originally Ganymede and I reincarnated in him, and while I had his memories, his experiences, there is still maybe a disconnect somewhere. Or maybe because of the abilities I gained when I reincarnated into him, abilities he didn't have, abilities Hephaestus, Hades, you and I shouldn't have, abilities not of this universe, powerful in a way that we're at the top of the food chain here, but that we are also warped by them mentally and physically."

It was true, and it was something we'd all noticed. The powers we'd gained, they changed us. Not just in what we could do, but in how we thought, how we perceived the world. I could see through all of their minds if I wanted to, see all their desires, their fears, their secrets. How easy it would be to turn each and all the people around us, to bend them to my will with nothing more than a thought. I could do it as easily for gods if I wished to do so. Could do so to you or Hades or Hephaestus if I truly pushed, though that would be exponentially harder given their own abilities.

Maybe that was why I felt nothing looking at Troy. Because to me, with the power I now possessed, these people weren't real in the way they should be. They were variables, potential outcomes, pieces on a board. The disconnect between what Ganymede had felt, the love and longing for family and home, and what I felt now, which was mostly clinical detachment, was stark and disturbing if I thought about it too hard.

So I tried not to think about it too hard.

"Maybe this is why," I said, more to myself than to Hera. "Still, at least me feeling like this means that our plans can go on without a hitch."

"All of this, everything is so fucked," Hera said, and there was genuine despair in her voice. "Fuck!"

She wasn't wrong. The situation was fucked. We were fucked. Four people from the twenty-first century, stuck in the bodies of Greek gods, trying to navigate a world of myths and monsters and destinies that were supposed to be set in stone. We'd made a pact, the four of us, Hades and Hephaestus and Hera and me. We were going to change things. We were going to make this world better, or at least less terrible. But that meant getting our hands dirty. It meant making hard choices. It meant becoming the villains of our own story if that's what it took.

The Trojan War was supposed to happen. It was a fixed point in this world's history, a cornerstone of Greek mythology. But we'd decided it didn't have to happen the way it was supposed to. We could change the outcome. We could save lives. We could give dearly deserved retribution to the entire pantheon at that moment. We could prevent the senseless slaughter of thousands.

But to do that, we had to play the game. We had to manipulate events, guide people, push them toward choices they might not otherwise make. We had to become the very thing we'd hated about the original Olympians, the meddling gods who treated mortal lives like toys.

The cognitive dissonance was exhausting.

"It is what it is," I said, because what else was there to say? We'd made our choice. We'd committed to this path. There was no backing out now.

"Still," I added, "while talking was great in helping pass the time, it is now time for my role in the play to begin."

Hera nodded, her expression settling into something determined. She understood. We all had our parts to play in this elaborate scheme we'd concocted. Hers would come later, when the time was right. For now, this was my scene.

I walked toward the royal family of Troy, toward Priam and Hecuba and the assembled nobles and priests who were all arguing about what to do with baby Paris. The prophecy had been clear: this child would be the doom of Troy. The priests were calling for his death, for the baby to be exposed on Mount Ida and left to die. Hecuba was clutching her son, tears streaming down her face, begging for his life. Priam looked torn, caught between his duty as a king and his love as a father.

It was a scene straight out of a Greek tragedy, which made sense, because that's exactly what it was.

I could feel the eyes on me as I approached. Ganymede was known here, even if he hadn't set foot in Troy since he was fourteen. He was the lost prince, the beautiful boy stolen by Zeus, the one who'd been granted immortality and divinity. Some looked at me with awe, some with pity, some with envy. None of them knew the truth. None of them could understand what it meant to be me, to be Ganymede, to carry these memories and these powers and this burden.

But they didn't need to understand. They just needed to listen.

I stopped a respectful distance from the royal family, close enough to be heard but far enough to not intrude on their grief. Priam looked up at me, and I saw the recognition in his eyes. He knew who I was. Knew what I was to him, even if the bloodline had become diluted over generations.

"Great-great-nephew," I said, using the title that was technically correct, even if it felt absurd given that I looked younger than him. "I could not help but overhear the dilemma you face."

Priam straightened, trying to compose himself even in the midst of this crisis. He was a good king, by the standards of ancient Greece. Fair, just, beloved by his people. It was a shame what was going to happen to him. What was supposed to happen to him.

What we were going to make sure didn't happen to him, if we succeeded.

"Lord Ganymede," Priam said, and there was a weight of respect in his voice that I didn't deserve. "You honor us with your presence. We did not expect a visit from one of the immortals."

"I come bearing no messages from Olympus," I said, which was technically true. Zeus didn't know I was here. None of the Olympians did, except for the three who were in on our plan. "But I could not ignore the call of blood, distant though it may be."

I looked at the baby in Hecuba's arms, and I let a carefully constructed expression of sympathy cross my face. "A prophecy is a heavy burden," I said softly. "Especially one that speaks of doom and destruction. But prophecies are tricky things. They are not always what they seem."

The priests bristled at that. They didn't like having their authority questioned, especially not by someone who, despite being a god, was still young in appearance and manner. But Priam leaned forward, interested.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Time to do what I came to do, I thought. Time to be the Mephistopheles to my own blood so that the plans and schemes the group I was part of, Hades, Hera, Hephaestus and I, would go on without a hitch.

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Ganymede's abilities can be resumed as deal-broking/faustian bargains ones and they are from the following Abyss Pathway + White 's abilities can be resumed as deal-broking ones and they are from the following k from LOTM and the house of the Sun