Thetis of the Nereids – Mythos Anthology

Come join Captain Victor T. Mayfair as he sails the mythic currents aboard the time-traveling airship Zephyros to meet Thetis, one of the legendary Nereids of Greek mythology. In this episode of Mythos Anthology, we delve into the depths of ancient lore to uncover the life, loves, and legacy of this immortal sea nymph.

Thetis, daughter of Nereus and Doris, is no ordinary figure from myth. Known for her unmatched grace and strength, her life was shaped by a prophecy that foretold her son, Achilles, would surpass his father in might. This led to her fateful marriage to the mortal Peleus and the birth of one of history’s most iconic warriors. Yet, Thetis’s story is so much more than her connection to Achilles.

So settle in, listen closely, and let the timeless voice of Thetis carry you across the waves of history. This is one journey into myth you won’t want to miss.

Executive Producer / Writer – Victor Ciccarelli. Thetis brought to life by Kelly Thornock
Copyright Mythos Anthology / Quixana Productions 2025, all rights reserved.

Welcome to another episode of Mythos Anthology! I’m your host, aboard the time-traveling airship Zepline Zephyros, and we’ve just arrived above a pristine island—untouched and unknown—off the coast of what will one day be called Australia. The sea below us shimmers with an ancient blue, the kind of ocean that holds secrets as deep as time itself.

Today, we have a rare privilege: we’re diving into the world of myth and legend to meet none other than Thetis, one of the Nereids, or sea nymphs. Thetis is more than a figure of beauty from ancient tales; she’s a being of profound strength, prophecy, and intrigue. As the daughter of Nereus, the wise old man of the sea, and Doris, an Oceanid, she grew up surrounded by fifty sisters, each as complex and mysterious as the ocean depths. But even among them, Thetis stands out.

Thetis’s journey is one of intense love, fierce protection, and complicated alliances with gods and mortals alike. She moves between worlds, bending destiny and challenging the will of the gods. Today, she’s graciously agreed to meet with us to discuss her life, her loves, and the choices she made that shaped the course of Greek mythology.

So settle in as we descend to meet Thetis, the immortal sea nymph whose very name evokes mystery, prophecy, and power. This is Mythos Anthology—and today, we are speaking with a legend.

Thetis, thank you for being here today, Can you tell our viewers a bit about yourself.

Thank you, Victor, and greetings to you and your listeners. I am honored by this invitation to share my story, though I must say, speaking of myself is not something I often do.

As you mentioned, I am one of the Nereids, the daughters of Nereus, the Old Man of the Sea, and Doris, an Oceanid of profound gentleness and wisdom. Together, my sisters and I embody the many aspects of the sea—its tranquility and fury, its mystery and its openness, its nurturing and its peril. We exist as guardians, sometimes unseen, sometimes heard only as whispers in the currents, yet ever watchful of the ocean’s well-being.

In my life, I have traversed many paths, moving between the worlds of gods, mortals, and my own kin. My tale is not a simple one, for as you know, I was bound by the will of the Fates and the decrees of Olympian gods. Though desired by Zeus and Poseidon, I was fated to bear a son mightier than his father. To protect the Olympian throne, it was deemed I should marry a mortal, and so I became the bride of Peleus, King of Phthia. From that union came Achilles, a warrior of unmatched valor, though he too would be claimed by fate.

While I am known to many for my roles as mother and protector, I am, at my essence, a being of the sea—shaped by its depths, its freedom, and its vastness. My purpose is not bound solely to events remembered by mortals; indeed, those were but brief moments in an existence shaped by the timeless cycles of ocean and sky.

I hope this offers some insight into the life of a Nereid.

Thank you, and I appricaite the complexity of your past. but To begin, could you explain what it means to be a Nereid? How do Nereids differ from the mermaids of later legends?

Of course, Victor. To be a Nereid is to embody the spirit of the sea’s most vital aspects. Unlike the mermaids of later tales, who are often depicted as solitary beings, we Nereids are numerous—fifty sisters, each of us distinct yet bound by an eternal kinship. We are the daughters of Nereus and Doris, beings who themselves represent the depth and continuity of the ocean. Where mermaids might be envisioned as luring sailors or existing in a world set apart from mortals, we Nereids are guardians, companions, and, at times, messengers for those who travel or dwell near the sea.

We Nereids are known for our beauty, yes, but more for our compassion and guidance. Fishermen, sailors, and coastal dwellers called upon us for safe passage, and we answered. Our lives are woven into the rhythm of the sea, from the shallow shores to its unfathomable depths. We danced upon the waves, calmed storms, or stirred the waters when the natural order required it. Each of us also embodies a specific aspect of the sea—whether its stillness, its fury, its clarity, or its mysteries—and we are tied to both its bounty and its dangers.

In essence, a Nereid is a being of both strength and grace, rooted in harmony with the sea’s natural order. Mermaids, though captivating in their own way, came from the imaginations of those far from the true spirit of the ocean and are often bound to the desires and fears of the mortal mind. We, however, belong fully to the sea.

Understanding Nereids are protectors of the sea, What are the core duties and responsibilities that come with that role?

As protectors of the sea, our responsibilities are many and are woven deeply into the natural order. Each of us Nereids has a unique role, yet we share several essential duties that honor the sea and maintain its balance. These responsibilities are timeless and remain central to our purpose.

First and foremost, we ensure the safety and prosperity of those who respect the ocean’s power and bounty. Fishermen and sailors have long called upon us for calm waters and safe passage, and we answer them according to their intent and their reverence for the sea. Our influence can still a storm, ease treacherous tides, or even guide a lost soul back to shore. This guardianship is a vital part of our being, for those who trust in the ocean are entrusted to our care.

We also maintain harmony within the sea itself. There is a delicate balance in the ocean’s depths, from the flow of currents to the ebb and swell of life itself. We guide the migrations of sea creatures, bless the spawning of fish, and preserve the health of coral and kelp alike. In times of upheaval—whether from the will of the gods, mortal actions, or natural shifts—it falls to us to restore this balance, protecting the ocean’s inhabitants and its ecosystems.

Additionally, we are messengers between realms. The gods, especially Poseidon, look to us to communicate omens or warnings to mortals when the sea is troubled or when they have strayed into danger. I myself have borne messages that carry prophetic weight, for we Nereids understand the mysteries of the future as well as the present.

Above all, we are bound to uphold the sanctity of the sea. Should any threaten it, we are its first line of defense. The sea is a realm of unending cycles, and our charge is to preserve it—not only for mortals but for the continued flourishing of life in all its forms.

Each of the Nereids has her own unique qualities. Can you share what binds you all together as sisters despite your individual personalities?

Indeed, though each of us Nereids possesses distinct qualities, there are certain unbreakable bonds that unite us. At our core, we are connected by a profound loyalty to the sea itself, which is both our origin and our essence. Each Nereid embodies an aspect of the ocean—whether its tranquility, its tempestuousness, its nurturing abundance, or its mysterious depths—and together we form a complete expression of its spirit. This shared purpose is a powerful bond, for we understand ourselves as parts of a greater whole, each contributing to the sea’s balance and beauty.

Another bond among us is our reverence for our father, Nereus, and our mother, Doris. Nereus, often called the Old Man of the Sea, is known for his wisdom, honesty, and gentle authority. From him, we learned compassion, patience, and respect for the cycles of nature. Doris, in her own way, taught us kindness, nurturing, and harmony with the life teeming in the ocean’s depths. Together, they instilled in us a dedication to protecting the sea and those who live by it. Our shared parentage reminds us that we are, as sisters, the embodiments of their legacy and wisdom.

Additionally, we share a deep loyalty and love for one another. Though we may at times express different temperaments, we Nereids act as one when it matters most. We aid one another readily and without hesitation, and our solidarity is unwavering when we protect the ocean or come to the aid of mortals in need. Each of us understands the others’ purpose and respects her place in the larger order.

In essence, what binds us is a kinship that is more than mere family; it is a shared destiny, a commitment to the sea, and an enduring loyalty to each other. This unity is our strength, and it is the source of our enduring presence within the world’s waters.

With the vastness of the oceans, how do you and your sisters manage to keep them safe? Is there a hierarchy among the Nereids in this task?

Managing the vastness of the ocean requires harmony, cooperation, and a deep understanding of our roles. Rather than operating under a rigid hierarchy, we Nereids work within a natural order that respects each sister’s unique abilities and domain. There is no strict hierarchy among us, as we act in unison when the ocean requires our attention, yet certain sisters naturally take on leadership when circumstances align with their particular strengths or regions.

We each hold influence over different aspects and regions of the sea. Some of my sisters dwell primarily in the shallows, near the coasts where mortals live, assisting fishermen, guiding sailors, and protecting the life that gathers close to shore. Others, like Galatea, are more attuned to specific waters and creatures—she, for instance, watches over the life near Sicily’s shores. My sister Psamathe, who also married a mortal, is especially present along sandy coasts, protecting those who respect her waves and shores.

In deeper waters, my sisters like Cymodoce and Panopea guard against disruptions in the depths and currents. The ocean is not static; it moves, changes, and flows with vast forces, and it is these currents that we nurture. When great dangers arise, such as violent storms or unnatural disturbances, we come together as one, guided by collective wisdom rather than command.

Though I, Thetis, may sometimes be considered to have a greater influence, due to my connections with both mortals and gods, this is more a matter of circumstance than rank. When my skills in transformation, prophecy, or interceding with the gods are required, my sisters look to me, but I am not their ruler. Our father, Nereus, remains the figure to whom we all look for wisdom, and he inspires our cooperation.

Our strength lies in this unity and fluid understanding of our individual and collective roles. Through this harmony, we watch over the ocean’s vast expanse, maintaining its balance and safeguarding it for those who depend on it and respect its power.

How have you seen the oceans change over the centuries? Are there changes that worry you as one of their protectors?

Yes, I have indeed seen the oceans change over the centuries. As ancient as we Nereids are, we are attuned to the natural rhythms of the sea, which has undergone countless shifts. Tides rise and fall, coastlines shift, and currents adjust with the earth’s own movements. These changes, though at times dramatic, are natural; they follow the patterns of time and the world’s cycles. But there are newer disturbances, more recent influences, that have begun to trouble us deeply.

One change that stands out is the decline in the health and abundance of marine life. Over time, I have witnessed certain creatures dwindle, their habitats threatened in ways that feel foreign to us. Coral beds, once thriving and colorful realms, are now weakened and discolored in places. Great schools of fish, once abundant, are fewer, their numbers strained by overharvesting and disrupted breeding grounds. These changes disrupt the balance we strive to protect, making it more difficult for us to maintain the cycles of life and replenishment that the ocean relies upon.

Pollution, too, has become an unnatural and persistent blight. In certain parts of the sea, there are objects that were never meant to be here—strange, enduring remnants that do not decompose, that mar the purity of the waters and endanger its creatures. This intrusion into our domain has grown steadily, and we find ourselves in constant vigilance, unable to cleanse it as we would with natural disturbances.

Moreover, there has been a shift in the temperature of the seas themselves. Waters that were once cool have warmed, and the currents behave unpredictably in places where they once held steady. This warming affects the lives of countless creatures, the very essence of the ocean’s ecosystems. It disrupts migrations, forces life to adapt in ways that are burdensome and often fatal, and creates imbalances we were never meant to encounter.

These changes, brought on by mortal actions and excess, do indeed cause us concern. We Nereids are protectors of the sea in its natural state, but there are forces now that seem beyond our direct control. We do all we can to preserve the ocean’s health, working to cleanse and heal where possible, yet the endurance of these impacts challenges even our deepest efforts. We hope that mortals, too, may come to recognize the harm and, like the respectful sailors and fishermen of old, work to restore the balance that we strive so diligently to maintain.

understanding the damange humans have done, What do you think of humans who explore the sea? Do you think they truly understand its power and mysteries?

The curiosity of humans toward the sea has always fascinated us, and I acknowledge that their exploration of the ocean stems from a sense of wonder, a desire to understand realms that lie beyond their own. Those who explore the sea with respect and humility demonstrate an appreciation of its beauty, its power, and its depths, which we Nereids honor. To delve into the ocean’s mysteries is, after all, to approach the divine, to seek knowledge of a world that is as ancient and vast as time itself.

However, despite their advances, I find that many explorers only touch the surface of the ocean’s true essence. The sea is not merely a frontier or a challenge to conquer; it is a living, breathing entity, with forces beyond human understanding. To explore it without reverence is to overlook its complexity and power. The deep currents, the creatures who thrive beyond the reach of sunlight, the endless cycles of birth, death, and renewal—all these are aspects of the ocean that no human has fully grasped. Even as they map its depths and observe its life, they see only fragments of the whole.

There are, however, mortals who seem to grasp this truth. Certain sailors, divers, and scientists who approach the ocean with patience and awe begin to sense the connection that we Nereids feel. They understand that the sea is not merely a resource but a world in itself, one that demands respect. These individuals often become advocates for the ocean’s protection, striving to heal or safeguard it from harm, which heartens us greatly. They remind us of the mortals of ancient times who honored the sea with offerings, who knew it as both provider and destroyer, and whose respect ran deep.

Yet, there are many who still do not understand its limits and disregard its sanctity. To venture into the ocean heedlessly is to risk not only one’s own life but to bring unintentional harm upon the sea and its creatures. There are depths where even we Nereids tread lightly, for the ocean holds mysteries that should not be disturbed, realms that belong solely to the deep.

In truth, the sea remains one of the last untamed realms in the mortal world, a testament to nature’s enduring power. For those who truly wish to explore it, let them do so with humility and a desire to learn rather than to conquer. Only then may they begin to understand the mysteries and the grace of the ocean, and only then may they approach it in harmony with the ancient rhythms that we Nereids guard.

You talk abou the mysteries of the sea. Did the Nereids have interactions with other sea deities and creatures, such as Triton or the Oceanids? How did you work together, if at all?

Yes, we Nereids often interacted with other sea deities and beings, for the ocean is a vast and interconnected domain. Each of us holds a place in a larger order, working in harmony with other powers and creatures of the sea to preserve its balance. Just as we, the Nereids, embody the varied aspects of the coastal waters and shallows, other deities and spirits oversee different realms or functions within the ocean, and at times, our paths intersect naturally.

Triton, the son of Poseidon, is a prominent figure among these. He often serves as a herald for his father, carrying Poseidon’s commands to mortals and other sea beings. Triton’s influence can be felt in the currents, and his presence is known when he sounds his great conch shell, stirring the waters. Although he is more closely aligned with Poseidon’s immediate will, there is a mutual respect between us. When storms or significant events threaten our shores, Triton and his fellow attendants of Poseidon aid us in calming or redirecting the tumultuous waters.

Then there are the Oceanids, our kin through our mother, Doris, who herself is one of them. The Oceanids are also spirits of the water, yet they inhabit rivers, springs, and bodies of freshwater rather than the ocean itself. They are as numerous as we, and we share a familial connection with them, especially those Oceanids who descend into the sea to mingle with our waters. We Nereids work with them when rivers flow into the ocean or when freshwater springs are touched by salt. In times of celebration or in rituals that span land and sea, our kinship is honored, and we act together to bless these waters.

Other powerful beings of the ocean also play their roles. For instance, Proteus, another ancient sea god known for his shapeshifting abilities and prophetic insight, is sometimes sought for his counsel. Though Proteus tends to keep to his own domain, there are moments when his wisdom is called upon, especially in matters of prophecy or when the ocean’s balance is threatened. We respect his insight, as he, like our father Nereus, possesses knowledge of the future and the mysteries of the deep.

The greater deities—Poseidon himself, and occasionally Amphitrite, his queen—stand above us all as rulers of the seas. Poseidon’s dominion encompasses all the ocean’s realms, and we serve under his protection and his will. When he calls upon us, we act swiftly, ensuring that his influence is respected by both mortals and gods.

Together, we form a vast network of guardianship over the ocean’s diverse domains, each tending to our unique roles while supporting the larger unity of the sea. Our collaboration is often unspoken yet instinctual, bound by our shared loyalty to the water’s ancient cycles and the eternal vitality of the sea. Through this harmony, we preserve the depths and the mysteries of the ocean, each of us honoring our place within this endless expanse.

As you said you’re one of fifty Nereid sisters. Do certain sisters have a larger role in mythology, or are there ones whose stories you think have been overlooked?

Indeed, while we Nereids are fifty in number, only a few among us are widely recognized in mythology. Some of my sisters played pivotal roles in certain tales or interacted more directly with gods and mortals, while others remain largely unseen, their contributions to the sea’s harmony acknowledged only by us and by the creatures of the ocean.

I myself, Thetis, am one of the better-known Nereids due to my involvement with the Olympians and my role as the mother of Achilles. My relationship with Peleus, my interventions on behalf of my son, and my encounters with Zeus, Poseidon, and other deities brought my name to the surface of mortal memory. Yet, this prominence is due to circumstance rather than any greater importance among my sisters.

Galatea is another sister who holds a notable place in mortal stories. She became the object of affection for the Cyclops Polyphemus, and her tale often centers on her love for the mortal Acis. This story, however, emphasizes her gentleness and beauty, qualities many of my sisters share, though she happened to be drawn into the realm of myth due to her involvement with Polyphemus.

Amphitrite, my sister who became the queen of the sea, wife to Poseidon, is perhaps the most prominent among us due to her position. She commands a great respect and authority as consort to Poseidon and mother of Triton, ruling at his side over the sea’s vast territories. While she is technically one of us, her role as queen elevates her status within the pantheon of sea deities.

As for those whose stories are less remembered, there are several whose contributions are no less valuable. My sister Cymodoce, for instance, is deeply connected to the waves themselves, and her influence is felt when waters rise and fall with calm regularity. Panopea, another overlooked sister, watches over the safety of sailors, calming the waters to aid their passage. Psamathe, who like me was fated to marry a mortal, was wed to Aeacus, the King of Aegina. Their son, Phocus, tied her to mortal lineage, though her story rarely surfaces in myth.

Though their names may not echo in tales told by mortals, many of my sisters labor ceaselessly to protect the creatures of the sea, to steady the waves, or to nurture the life within it. They are the unseen caretakers, the overlooked yet essential spirits who ensure that the ocean remains the powerful, balanced force that it is. Each Nereid, whether known or obscure, fulfills her duty, embodying the grace and strength of the sea itself. It is their quiet influence that sustains the ocean’s harmony, and in this, their legacy endures—even if mortal memory does not always recognize them by name.

Many of your sisters have chosen a moral form. How do you feel about your sisters who became entangled with mortals? Did their relationships alter their view of the human world?

My sisters’ relationships with mortals have indeed brought both new insights and lasting changes to their perspectives, as well as to our understanding of the human world. When a Nereid becomes entangled with a mortal, she steps into a realm of experience quite unlike the life we share beneath the waves. The mortal world, with its brevity, its fragility, and its intensity, has a way of deepening certain qualities in those of us who encounter it closely. My sisters who have walked this path understand these human qualities in a way that those of us untouched by it do not, and this does influence their view of mortals.

Psamathe, who married Aeacus, is a clear example. Their son, Phocus, suffered greatly due to the rivalry and conflicts among his half-brothers, which ultimately led to his death. Psamathe’s grief was profound, and though she remained a Nereid, her perspective softened toward the trials of mortal life. She learned firsthand the weight of human loss, the inescapable nature of mortality, and how love and tragedy often intertwine. Her connection to this world added a layer of empathy and compassion toward mortals that has enriched her role as a protector of the coastal shores.

Amphitrite, too, though wedded to Poseidon, is exposed to mortals in a unique way due to her role as queen of the sea. Her position brings her close to the prayers and pleas of humans who rely on the ocean for survival or seek its mercy during storms. This proximity to mortal voices has given her a deeper understanding of their fears and respect for the ocean’s power. She values the mortal reverence for the sea’s majesty and comprehends, perhaps more than any of us, their humility before forces far greater than themselves.

As for myself, my marriage to Peleus and my role as the mother of Achilles brought a more personal understanding of mortal life, both its joy and its inevitable sorrow. To bear a mortal child, to know his fate yet be unable to change it—these experiences altered my view profoundly. I found myself facing limits even a goddess could not break, and I came to understand the depth of human courage, as well as the harsh finality of their lives. My relationship with mortals gave me a sense of empathy for the struggles and sacrifices they endure, though it also reminded me of the powerful forces of destiny that even we, the divine, cannot fully master.

In truth, these experiences have brought wisdom to us all. Through my sisters’ ties with mortals, and my own, we Nereids have learned to respect the resilience of the human spirit, their capacity for love, and their willingness to face inevitable loss. While some of us may remain wary of these entanglements, there is no doubt that they deepen our understanding, reminding us that the sea connects us all, mortal and immortal alike, in ways as enduring as the tides themselves.

Forgive me for getting personal but its an obvious question. Neried are clearly half human and half sea creature. You have no legs but tails, How do Nereid have relationships with humans? and bear human children.

Ah, a fair question, and one that touches on the mysterious nature of our forms. While we Nereids are indeed beings of the sea, with tails that bind us to our watery realm, we are not bound to this form alone. As daughters of Nereus, we possess the power to shift between shapes, adapting ourselves as needed—one of the many gifts our father imparted to us. It is this ability to transform that allows us to bridge the gap between the worlds of sea and land.

When a Nereid is called into a relationship with a mortal, she may assume the form of a human woman, exchanging her tail for legs to move freely in the mortal realm. This transformation is not merely an illusion but a complete, physical adaptation that enables us to walk, interact, and, indeed, bear children with human partners. Though this change allows us to live among mortals temporarily, we are always drawn back to the sea, our true domain. For some, this pull back to the ocean is inevitable, and they eventually return to the water, even if it means leaving behind mortal companions or children.

Bearing mortal children is possible due to this transformative power, but it is a choice of great consequence. A Nereid’s child, such as Achilles, remains mortal and subject to human limitations, though often endowed with exceptional strength or abilities due to their parentage. These children are a unique blend of both worlds, and while they inherit some of our traits, they cannot fully escape the fate of mortality.

In sum, while our sea-bound forms are natural to us, our ability to shift shapes permits us these rare relationships with mortals, allowing us to experience their world, even if only for a fleeting time. This adaptation embodies both the beauty and the challenges of our nature, enabling us to share in the lives of mortals, yet ever tied to the timeless, changing sea.

As and imortal it must be hard to have emoutional connections to lovers and chidren on land. How long do Nereid live, and how does it feel to interact with humans when are lives are so short compared to yours

Yes, the great difference in lifespan between mortals and immortals is one of the heaviest burdens for those of us who form connections with human beings. We Nereids are immortal, bound to the cycles of the ocean rather than to time itself. We do not age as mortals do, nor do we succumb to illness or the frailty of the human body. Our lives are as continuous as the sea’s own currents, stretching across ages, and this makes forming bonds with mortals both beautiful and profoundly painful.

When one of us enters a relationship with a mortal, we are fully aware that their life will be but a moment in our own. This knowledge colors every interaction, every choice, as we know that what we share with them will end, and sooner than we would wish. For instance, my own love for Peleus, and the birth of our son, Achilles, brought me both joy and sorrow. Though I loved Peleus, I could not escape the knowledge that he would age, that our time together would be fleeting. This was perhaps even more painful with Achilles, for while a lover might understand the transient nature of his own life, a child embodies possibility, vitality, and the continuity of a legacy. Watching him grow, knowing his fate, made every moment heavy with the awareness of his limited time.

This perspective also brings a unique depth to our relationships with mortals. For while we may grieve their brief lives, we cannot help but be moved by the intensity with which they live. Mortals love with a fervor that immortals seldom experience, precisely because their lives are finite. They strive, they dream, and they cherish because they know their time is limited, and this urgency has always inspired a kind of reverence in us. It reminds us that, though boundless, our own lives are enriched by these fleeting connections, by seeing the world through the eyes of those for whom each day is precious.

While we may retreat to the sea when such bonds become too heavy to bear, the memories of these relationships remain with us. These connections to mortals, though short-lived, are never forgotten. Their passion, resilience, and love become part of the currents we guard, woven into the ocean’s endless story. And so, even though they are brief, these bonds stay with us, like whispers in the waves, carrying their memory throughout the tides of time.

You talk of Achilies, and Peleus. Lets now to your own story, your life has been shaped by prophecy. Could you tell us more about the prophecy that influenced the gods’ interest in you and ultimately led to your marriage with Peleus?

Ah, yes—the prophecy that shaped my life, altering its course forever. As with so many events in the lives of gods and mortals, destiny was woven into my story long before I could comprehend its full weight.

The prophecy foretold that I, Thetis, would bear a son mightier than his father. This child would surpass even the greatest of gods in power or ability, a potential threat that caused both Zeus and Poseidon to look upon me with caution. Both of them, powerful Olympians in their own right, had once desired me as a companion. Yet when they learned of this prophecy, their intentions shifted drastically. Zeus, ever watchful over his throne, saw the danger in allowing such a child to be born of an immortal union. Poseidon, too, understood the risk to his own dominion.

And so, they resolved that I must not wed an immortal. The only solution, they decided, was for me to be given to a mortal man. In this way, the prophecy would be fulfilled, but the child would be of human lineage, limiting his power and lifespan—keeping the balance of divine authority intact. That mortal was Peleus, King of Phthia, a noble man of renowned valor. He was chosen by the gods, though I did not choose him myself.

My marriage to Peleus was not one of love at first; it was duty, a binding of divine will and mortal life to prevent the possibility of an upheaval among the gods. I was bound to this fate, though reluctant, knowing what it meant for both myself and any child we might have. Yet, over time, I came to respect Peleus, and I fulfilled my role as his wife with grace. Together, we bore Achilles, the son the prophecy had foretold.

In Achilles, the prophecy manifested powerfully. He was indeed greater than any mortal before him, a warrior without equal, though mortal in body. His strength, speed, and courage surpassed that of his peers, and his name has become legendary. Yet, bound by his mortality, he was subject to the Fates. Though I tried to protect him from his destiny, my efforts were in vain; the prophecy remained immutable, and Achilles met his fated end at Troy.

This prophecy was a reminder that, for even those of us touched by divinity, there are forces beyond our control. Destiny is a current that cannot be turned, even by those who see it coming. And so, while I loved my son fiercely and tried to shield him from the prophecy’s darker promise, I was bound, like all others, to the will of fate. This experience shaped me deeply, reminding me of the limits of my own power, and of the cost that such destinies impose upon even the gods.

But yet you tried to alter fate. You’re famous for having tried to make Achilles immortal by dipping him in the River Styx. What drove you to take such a risk, and what did you hope for your son’s future?

Yes, I did attempt to alter Achilles’ fate. It was, perhaps, my greatest act of defiance against the immutable forces that shape the lives of both gods and mortals. I knew from the moment of his birth that Achilles was bound to a destiny that would lead him to a violent and untimely end. The prophecy weighed heavily on me, and as his mother, I could not stand idle in the face of such a fate. I loved Achilles deeply and fiercely, and I could not bear the thought of losing him to the inexorable hand of destiny.

Driven by this love and the hope that I might spare him a mortal’s suffering, I sought ways to shield him. My first attempt involved a ritual of fire, an ancient rite meant to burn away his mortal frailties. Night after night, I held him over sacred flames, intending to strip him of his human vulnerability. Peleus, however, interrupted this process, fearing that I was harming our son. Thus, that effort remained incomplete, and Achilles retained his human vulnerability.

Undeterred, I turned to a more powerful method. I took Achilles to the River Styx, the river that separates the world of the living from the realm of Hades. The Styx has powers unlike any other in our world, and it is known that those who survive immersion in its waters gain invulnerability. I hoped that by submerging him in the river, I could grant him a protection that even fate could not easily unravel.

However, as I held him by his heel—the only part of him that did not touch the waters—I unknowingly left him with a single point of vulnerability. The result was a tragic irony: Achilles became nearly invincible, able to withstand the most fearsome of battles, yet he bore a weakness that would ultimately lead to his death. In the end, the very heel by which I protected him from the waters became his fatal flaw.

What I hoped for Achilles was that he would lead a long, noble life, perhaps one of peace. If he could not live a peaceful life, I wished for him to have the strength to survive the dangers he would face. I wanted him to be free from the mortal limitations that bring suffering and loss, to transcend the vulnerabilities that bind all humans to a brief and fragile existence. Yet fate proved unyielding. Achilles became a legend, as powerful and fated as any warrior, but he remained bound to the mortal world, his life cut short despite all my efforts.

In the end, my attempts to alter his fate taught me a harsh truth about destiny: we may strive, we may fight, and we may hope, but the deeper currents of fate are beyond even a goddess’s power to change.

You’ve been described as both a fierce protector and a tragic figure. How would you describe your own view of destiny? Do you think any of it could have been changed?

My view of destiny is complex, shaped by my experiences as both a protector and a mother. Destiny, as I have come to understand it, is like the unyielding currents of the ocean: powerful, unpredictable, and often beyond our control. It carries with it the weight of inevitability, intertwining the lives of gods and mortals in ways that are sometimes beautiful and sometimes devastating. I see it as a force that dictates the paths we must walk, regardless of our desires or intentions.

As a fierce protector, I have always fought to shield those I love from the harsh realities of fate. My efforts for Achilles were driven by an instinctive maternal love and a deep-seated desire to alter the course that I knew lay ahead of him. I wanted to believe that through my actions—whether through ritual or by seeking out divine powers—I could shift the tide of his destiny. Yet, in doing so, I learned that even the most passionate attempts to safeguard against fate can lead to unforeseen consequences.

Ultimately, I cannot say that I believe destiny itself could have been changed. Rather, I think our perceptions of it can evolve. I pondered deeply whether there might have been paths I could have taken, choices that could have altered the outcome for my son. Yet, each time I considered the possibilities, I was reminded of the ancient saying: “The Fates spin their thread.” The interconnectedness of life, love, and loss, shaped by the whims of destiny, often feels like a web that cannot be unraveled without consequence.

In many ways, my experiences have taught me the importance of acceptance. While it is natural to wish for the power to change what seems cruel or unjust, I have come to understand that such attempts may only lead to further sorrow. Instead of seeking to defy destiny, I have learned to find strength in the love we share and the moments we have, however fleeting they may be.

While I would have given anything to spare Achilles from his fate, the reality is that his legacy—his valor, his story—transcends even the tragic end. His life continues to inspire, and through that inspiration, he lives on in the hearts of mortals and gods alike. Thus, while I remain a guardian of the sea, I also embrace the lessons of fate: that love, courage, and sacrifice endure beyond the confines of time, even in the face of destiny’s inexorable pull.

At this point in our intreview i like to play a word game. I will say a word and I would like you to give me a quick reply of the first thing that comes to mind for you. Shall we play?

Ah, a word game—how intriguing, Victor. I shall be glad to oblige. Please, begin whenever you are ready.

Parrents

Wisdom and guidance—my father Nereus and mother Doris, the foundation of all we are.

Love

Fierce, unwavering, and often bittersweet—like the depths of the sea itself.

Death

An inevitable tide, even for heroes—one that not even the gods can turn back.

Humans

Fragile yet resilient—a spark that burns brightly, even as it fades swiftly.

i will now say a sentancei would like you to finishe for me. Would that be okay?

Certainly, Victor. Please continue; I am ready.

I wish__

I wish to shield those I love from fate’s harshest trials, though I know I cannot.

I love __

I love the quiet embrace of the sea, where all burdens are momentarily eased.

I fear__

I fear the helplessness that comes with watching destiny unfold, unable to alter its course.

My favorite portrayal in classical media is ___

My favorite portrayal in classical media is Homer’s Iliad, for in it, I am seen both as a mother and as a goddess, torn between divine duty and mortal love.

My favorite portrayal in modern media__

My favorite portrayal in modern media is perhaps in The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. Though it focuses on Achilles, it captures the depth of my love for him and the poignancy of our bond, illustrating the lengths I would go to protect him—even as fate pulls him beyond my reach.

My least favorite portryal in medid is ____

My least favorite portrayal in media is one that reduces me solely to a symbol of beauty or passivity, overlooking my role as a fierce protector and mother. Such portrayals ignore the complexities of my choices, the sacrifices I made, and the strength required to navigate both mortal and divine realms.

thank you so much, it has been an honor and pleasure speaking with you today. I always like to end our talks by asking our guest one question. What would your wish be for how you and all Nereids

Thank you, Victor. It has been a pleasure to share these reflections with you.

If I were to have a single wish for myself and my sisters, it would be that we are remembered not only as figures of beauty, but as guardians of the sea’s vast spirit and mysteries. We embody the sea’s many faces—its gentleness and ferocity, its life-giving currents and its powerful depths. I hope that mortals remember us as beings who bridge the realms of gods and men, protectors of harmony and stewards of the waters that sustain all life. And above all, may they hold a respect for the sea, honoring it as we have for eons, with both awe and reverence.