While the Trojans reveled in their hard-won victory, toasting to the downfall of Ajax and the prowess of their mysterious champion, the Greek kings were locked in grim discussions, mourning the loss of one of their mightiest warriors. Yet, amidst the mortal realm’s turbulence, the realm of the gods was a cauldron of seething tempers and barely-contained chaos.
Zeus, the King of the Olympus Gods, sat upon his golden throne with a furrowed brow, his gaze fixed upon the quarrels erupting before him. His usual aura of omnipotence was shadowed by a rare display of contemplation, for he knew the storm brewing in Olympus could have far-reaching consequences. The throne room, vast and opulent with its gleaming marble floors and gilded columns, trembled with the force of divine voices.
“Where did you find this little bastard?!” Hera’s voice rang like thunder, her words slicing through the tension-laden air. Her fiery glare was fixed upon Aphrodite, who maintained her composure with a maddeningly serene smile. The goddess of love and beauty, draped in flowing robes that shimmered like the dawn, seemed unperturbed by Hera’s wrath. Yet, the tightness of her lips betrayed a hint of strain.
“Whatever could you mean, dear Hera?” Aphrodite replied with feigned innocence, her laugh tinkling like a gentle chime. She daintily covered her mouth with a perfectly manicured hand, a performance of ignorance that only served to further enrage Hera.
“Do not play coy with me, Aphrodite!” Hera’s tone escalated, her voice shaking the very heavens. “I am speaking of the man who killed Ajax! You cannot expect me to believe he is merely some random mercenary plucked from obscurity by Priam. No! I am certain you are the one who brought him here!”
Hera’s accusation echoed throughout the chamber, drawing the attention of every god present. Dionysus, lounging lazily on a chaise and sipping from a goblet of divine wine, smirked with unbridled amusement. He lived for moments like this—quarrels among the gods always provided him with endless entertainment. He took another leisurely sip, his eyes glinting mischievously as he observed the spectacle.
Hermes, standing at Zeus’s side, wore a knowing smile. The messenger of the gods had an air of detachment, as though he were privy to secrets beyond the grasp of most deities. And indeed, he was. Hermes alone, besides Aphrodite, truly understood the enigma that was Heiron. For the likes of Artemis and Ares, Heiron was perhaps a gifted mercenary, a weapon honed by Aphrodite to further her schemes. But Hermes knew better. Heiron was no ordinary warrior. He was the bearer of a dark magic—a power hauntingly reminiscent of the Demon King who once terrorized the Light Continent and the current Lord Commander of Tenebria.
This revelation filled Hermes with an electrifying thrill. He had watched the battle between Heiron and Ajax with rapt attention, marveling at the display of raw strength, tactical brilliance, and unfathomable power. To Hermes, Heiron was an unparalleled spectacle, a harbinger of excitement in a world that had grown predictable.
Aphrodite, meanwhile, maintained her charade, her composure unbroken despite the growing hostility. “Hera, darling, your accusations are as baseless as they are dramatic,” she said smoothly. “Why must you always look for conspiracies where there are none?”
Hera’s eyes flared with divine fury, her fists clenching. “Do not mock me, Aphrodite! That man’s power—his aura—it reeks of your meddling. Admit it! You blessed him! And he knows Celestial Magic!”
Zeus finally stirred, raising a hand to silence the escalating argument. His voice, deep and commanding, filled the hall. “Enough, both of you.” The gods fell silent, their eyes turning toward their king. “This discord serves no purpose. If Heiron is as dangerous as Hera claims, then his presence among the Trojans warrants our attention.”
Dionysus chuckled softly, earning a sharp glance from Zeus. “Forgive me, father,” he said, raising his goblet in mock deference. “But watching these arguments is far more entertaining than any mortal drama.”
“This is no laughing matter,” Zeus admonished, his tone sharp. Turning to Aphrodite, he added, “If you have brought this warrior into the fold, you will answer for it. But for now, we must focus on the consequences of his actions.”
Hermes, ever the opportunist, decided to remain silent. He had no intention of revealing the truth about Heiron. The chaos and intrigue surrounding the warrior were far too delicious to spoil. For now, he would keep his secrets, watching eagerly as the drama unfolded.
The air in the grand hall of Olympus grew heavy as the tension thickened. Zeus’s commanding presence on his throne was matched by his sharp gaze, which moved from one deity to another. He sat with a posture of neutrality, though his furrowed brow betrayed the brewing storm within him.
Artemis broke the silence, her voice crisp and laced with suspicion. “What consequences, Father?” She narrowed her silver eyes, a challenge glinting in them. “I thought you vowed neutrality in this conflict?”
Zeus leaned back, his expression unreadable. “I am neutral, daughter,” he replied, his voice measured but firm. “I take neither the Greeks’ nor the Trojans’ side. However, Heiron wielded magic reserved only for the gods or their chosen disciples. This is no trivial matter.”
Ares, leaning casually against a marble pillar, crossed his arms and smirked. “I fail to see the issue here, Father,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “Even if Aphrodite trained him, so what? Let’s not pretend the rest of us are saints.”
He straightened and pointed at Athena, who stood stoically nearby, her expression a mask of indifference. “Athena, standing there as if she’s uninvolved, is the one who sparked this war to begin with. She manipulated Agamemnon’s mind with her lofty schemes, filling his head with dreams of glory. And she, along with Hera, blesses their champions openly. Odysseus and that woman from the Light Empire, Sienna, are constantly under Athena’s favor, while Mother ensures Agamemnon and Achilles remain unstoppable. Shall we pretend that’s fair while condemning Aphrodite?”
Hera’s sharp intake of breath preceded her furious response. “Ares!” she snapped, her eyes blazing.
“Apologies, Mother,” Ares said with a shrug, though his tone was anything but apologetic. “I’m merely stating the obvious.”
Athena’s icy gaze locked onto Ares, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “You’re only defending Aphrodite because it serves your interests,” she sneered. The usually composed goddess couldn’t hide her disdain for the god of war, her half-brother and eternal rival.
Ares turned his fiery glare on her. “And what if I am? You’ve no ground to stand on, Athena.”
“Enough!” Zeus’s voice thundered, silencing the room. His cold glare landed on Ares, commanding obedience. The tension lingered, but Ares held his tongue, though his smirk remained.
Zeus turned his piercing gaze to Aphrodite. “Did you teach him Celestial Magic?” he asked, his tone grave.
Aphrodite’s sweet smile never wavered, though her answer came swiftly. “No, I did not.”
It was the truth, of course. She knew the truth—Khione had been the one to impart such knowledge to Nathan but there was no way she would reveal that.
“She’s lying!” Hera accused, her voice shrill with frustration.
“She’s not lying, and you know it, Hera,” Dionysus interjected with a lazy grin, his cup of wine in hand. His tone was mocking, as if the entire argument amused him.
Hera spun to glare at him, her face flushed with anger. “You shut up, Dionysus!”
But Dionysus only laughed harder, savoring the chaos around him.
Zeus exhaled heavily, the weight of the squabble testing even his patience. “This bickering is beneath us,” he declared, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. His gaze swept over the room, silencing further protests. “We will get to the bottom of this, but there will be no baseless accusations.”
“Looks like you’re all having quite the party here,” a smooth, commanding voice interrupted the heated exchange.
All heads turned toward the grand white doors of the hall, which creaked open as water rippled across the threshold. A tall, strikingly handsome man stepped forward, his presence as vast and unyielding as the sea. His flowing blue hair shimmered like ocean waves, and his piercing fire-blue eyes radiated both mirth and menace. An amused smile played on his lips, but the immense power emanating from him was undeniable, rivaling even Zeus’s own.
“Poseidon…” Zeus’s deep voice rumbled as he addressed the newcomer. “You’ve returned.”
“And I see you didn’t find Khione,” Hera remarked, her tone sharp and mocking.
Poseidon chuckled as he ran a hand through his still-damp hair. “Is that how you greet me, dear sister, after summoning me so urgently?” His voice was laced with amusement, though the sharp undertone couldn’t be missed.
“You summoned him?” Artemis’s voice was cold as her eyes bore into Hera.
Hera’s lips curled into a smirk, her satisfaction evident.
Aphrodite’s unease grew, her instincts warning her that something was amiss.
Poseidon strode further into the hall, his steps deliberate and unhurried. “Yes, I’ve returned because my dear sister insisted I come. It seems…” He paused, letting the silence draw out for effect, “…some little piece of filth killed my son, Jason. As a father, it’s only natural that I take action.”
Despite his words, Poseidon’s tone carried no grief, only a chilling indifference, as though the loss of his son was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
“Gods are forbidden from directly interfering in the mortal world,” Zeus reminded him, his voice firm and authoritative.
“Of course, brother,” Poseidon replied smoothly, his smile widening. “I wouldn’t dream of breaking the sacred laws of Olympus. But rest assured, I can still ensure that… dog… meets his end.”
Zeus’s expression darkened, and the room seemed to hold its collective breath.
“You mean…” Hermes’s eyes widened as realization struck him.
Poseidon turned to him, nodding with a mischievous smile.
“I’m taking the Greeks’ side.”