Chapter Text
There was nothing in the beginning. Only the endless ocean, its dark waters churning in perpetual chaos. From the depths rose monstrous whirlpools—primordial seeds of unborn worlds, swirling in the abyss with neither order nor purpose. Then... there was me.
I emerged from the void, a golden radiance piercing through the turbulent waves. The moment my light touched the chaos, it stilled. The ocean obeyed. In that place where I was born, I established the first law—gravity. The waters drew toward me, forming concentric rings of calm amidst the storm. I became the center, the anchor around which existence would take shape.
Time meant nothing in those early eons. The ocean stretched infinitely in all directions, and I burned alone. Until—
Far, so terribly far from me, the first daughter stirred.
Jupiter.
Her presence was undeniable—a massive, roaring tempest of power. A continent formed around her, vast and untamed. Storms raged across its surface, and the ocean trembled beneath her might. I watched, my light barely reaching her, my influence weak. She struggled. She endured. She survived. Against the crushing pressure of the abyss, against the wrath of the newborn world, she stood firm.
And then, not long after, another.
Saturn.
She arose farther still, her birth marked by the elegant rings that encircled her. Like Jupiter, she was forced to endure the chaos alone. But she, too, prevailed. Their existence brought stability. Their strength forged the foundation upon which others could emerge.
Uranus and Neptune came next—born almost simultaneously, distant and cold. Neptune, the farthest, received so little of my warmth. I ached for her, but the laws I had created could not be bent. The distance between us remained, and she grew in solitude, shrouded in eternal storms.
Then, at last, the inner circle was born.
Mars. Venus. Earth. Mercury.
Each unique. Each precious.
Mars, fierce and unyielding, carved her land in fire and iron. Venus, radiant yet suffocating, wrapped herself in poisonous beauty. Mercury, small and swift, darted through the currents like a silver fish.
And then... Earth.
Of all my daughters, she alone cradled life. Her oceans teemed with it—fragile, fleeting, and yet so vibrant. Her continents shifted like living things, breathing and growing. She was different. She was perfect.
Billions of years passed.
Billions of years of asteroid assaults, of celestial battles. The outer planets stood as shields—Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune—their colossal forms deflecting the worst of the onslaught. But the inner worlds were still young, still vulnerable. Jupiter did what she could, her gravitational pull a protective embrace, but even she could not stop every threat.
And now?
Now, there is peace.
My daughters thrive. They bicker, they laugh, they forge alliances and rivalries. Sometimes, they fight—and when they do, I must discipline them. A flare of my radiance, a warning pulse of heat. They heed me. They must.
But above all...
I love them.
Every single one.