---

---

Even in the midst of a siege, Zeus found a way to dishonor her. Her eyes met his. Dark, cold, and dead to his sparkle. It was eons of hatred and loathing. How many times has she seen him like this, buried in some doe-eyed, pleasant, young mortal? He groaned as he discarded the woman from their bed, the little thing with mouth agape and confused, left to figure out how to get out of her own. What had Zeus promised this one? That her village would be spared? It didn't matter, not anymore, he had nothing left to give.

He expected her to run to him, to slap him, to scream. She would have, once. And then the queen of the gods, the goddess of marriage, would forgive him. She would wrap herself around him and absolve him of his sins. She would tell him that she loved him, only him. He would lie and say it was the same, that his actions were not who he was.

But this time, as the rebel forces broke down their walls and converged on their hidden sanctuary, the kiss she gave him was deep, but the despair was his alone. There were no tears or pleas that he be true. He had ravaged the land and threatened the delicate balance they had carved out again. He had made her a joke and he would never change.

“If only I could send you to our father.” Her whispered words were harsh in his ear. “To devour you over and over again for an eternity. Death is too kind for you, consider it my last gift, undeserved but given all the same.”

As men filled the room, weapons drawn, they found Hera holding a kneeling and lifeless Zeus against her. His face twisted in a pained death grimace, vibrant blood covered the lower half of his face and splashed against the white gold marble floor.

“It is done.” A declaration that the Tyranomachy War was ended, the King of the Gods had been deposed.

---

---

New Olympus thrummed with anticipation. It had been some time since so many gods had been in the city at once. Mortals who served the city and the Queen had been preparing for months. The city streets were packed, local restaurants and shops were decorated and gleaming, and though Hera had attempted to shutter them - brothels and gambling dens were geared up for the impending crowds.

Invitations had been sent to gods and demigods - though Hera had pointedly ignored any of Zeus’s mortal or demigod bastards. She could not do the same for those of equal status, no matter how much she may have wished to bar them entry. The Accords demanded compromise from her the same as the rest.

Within the white palace, the buzz of activity was kept far from Hera and Hebe’s personal wing. Where once Zeus and his entourage had kept the halls full of mostly naked women - living art he had claimed - it was now nearly subdued in comparison. Hera had had the women removed and had brought on a staff of men who she required to be dressed in plumage of jeweled greens and blues. Though she kept them half-nude as well, she had not found the same joy in it her husband had seemed to with his staffing. Maybe one day a glimpse of the joy it had brought him would make itself obvious to her.

In the silence of the early morning, the queen stirred to life. The peacock servants stood at attention, always ready to assist her, though the ones in her rooms had the additional requirement of being blinded. Hestia had joked with her about the oddity of it for a non-virginal goddess, but Hera could not stand the thought of these mortal men able to look up on her form. Neither was she willing to invite women back to such familiarity. She burned with anger at how her husband had wielded it against her, and it had yet to abate.

One arm escaped from the soft covers, extended gracefully and just as quickly was embraced by the sleeve of a silk robe. The servant moved effortlessly, no matter his lack of sight, in wrapping his charge in her dressing robe as she drew herself from the bed. She sighed. Yes, she had arranged this celebration, but it did not mean she was eager to see it through. Especially with how absolutely deplorable Hebe’s attitude had been lately. It was like nothing Hera did was good enough in the eyes of her young daughter and she was being nothing more than an ungrateful brat.

“If my daughter tries to sleep in, you have my permission to douse her with iced water.” Hera waved one servant off to relay the message to the servants who waited on the girl.

It was the last moment of peace for the rest of the morning and afternoon. There was an endless stream of requests for audiences, last minute changes because of some drama or another that was now the most pressing issue of the millenia, and all of the other finishing touches Hera had wanted to oversee. As much as it irritated her, she enjoyed knowing there was a power in it. And it distracted her from other things she had been unable to resolve. The sky and thunder still remained out of her grasp.

The immortals and their entourage - limited by the Accords and custom - crowded a great courtyard. Peacocks, of both servant and animal kind, mixed between them. The mortal men served drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Disappointing to many, no doubt, was the lack of any other entertainment, the sort that had been common when Zeus reigned.

Hera approached the balcony where she would officially welcome those assembled with her daughter. She had chosen a structured top of deep nephrite color, high necked and with caped sleeves that enveloped her. Though her pants matched in color, they were of a wispy, ethereal fabric, that with the wide cut could forgivably be mistaken for a skirt of vintage design. A delicate crown of gold, adorned with jeweled bulls nestled into her dark hair.

“You’re late.” She spoke without turning when she heard Hebe join her. “Though some will crow endlessly about how fashionable that is for your own party.”

“You are the God of the Underworld, not depression, try to look a little more imperious and a little less sullen.” The almost monotone drawl that briefly followed the tap-tap of heels on stone was as much of a greeting as Hades had come to expect from the woman who could largely be recognised as his second. “Is all that black really necessary?”

The Lord of the Dead turned from his own reflection, a mirror cast of black marble polished well beyond the means of mortal hands bearing his visage back at him. Hades was dressed in a manner which combined the styles of old and new. A finely tailored suit of black, with a shirt of a light blue left largely open beneath. Atop this a cloak set about his shoulders with a sash across the front, the great dark cloth lined with thread of the same blue as the shirt bore remarkable similarity to a funeral shroud of the past. As he finished his turn and his eyes set on Hecate he gave a snort of almost contemptible nature.

“You are one to talk, in that.”

The dramatic shirt, with puffed sleeves and popped collar, was the only hint of something not dark on the goddess. Over said shirt was a modified waistcoat, more of a belt given the yawning span of skin between either halves of both shirt and waistcoat. The outfit trailed into equally dark shorts, criss crossed in chains of silver bearing gemstones which hummed with faint power. A thin striped of laced tights covered the hint of upper thigh before the top of her outlandishly long and heeled boots began. Also black. “I believe the mortals called this ‘goth,’ besides, its cute when I do it, you're just being sad.” Hecate drew close with a further click of her heels, the goddess of magic stopping to make minor adjustments to the fall of Hades cloak, as if he couldn't do so himself, humming in thought before shrugging. “I suppose it will do.” She stepped away from him, before asking “Is she coming?”

“No.” Hades couldn't entirely hide the sharpness from his tone, another abandoned promise from a soul he had once felt a connection, however trivial, with.

“You should not accept this of others, Hades. You are a God, one of ‘the’ gods, and occasionally i even think you might be a good man aside all that, and that is even rarer.”

The Lord of the Dead let out another, now openly contemptful, noise, before replying. “I am hard to be around, there are few who can tolerate the chill.”

“Perhaps not, but more importantly, you should not allow it.” Hecate stepped away, seemingly content with her work. The gemstones nestled among her chains began to glow, along with the eyes of the dark haired goddess, for a brief moment Hades’ vision blurred, and where once there was one face of the goddess there were now three, each speaking slightly out of time with the other, even if the words were the same. “Now let us be off, we are appropriately late already.”

“You enjoy yourself too much with these family reunions.”

“Your family, not mine.” The goddess of magic spoke with a wink, three of them to be precise, and then both divine begins vanished in a flash of pale corpselight.

---

Even if that had not been the formal design, and few expected this was anything but, the manner of arrival to the celebrations required a certain amount of procession, a trail of gods and goddesses of varying power and influence, alongside their courts and encourages, proceeding into the celebration at a sedate pace. Some processions were more showy than others, some gods arrived with little more than those they intended to bring within the celebrations, others accompanied by whole retinues. The climb to the Palace was lined with mortals clamoring for a sight of the gods and their closest chosen, some with true reverence, others with simple curiosity.

Much of the jubilation and cheers seemed to quieten as the gods of the Underworld began to make their ascent. They did not travel with the pomp and circumstance of the other great divine factions, nor did they fully abandone the spectacle expected of them. The gods of Cythonia moved in step with each other, many grim in aspect if not in mood. Their lord, the Master of the Dead, lead the way, the outfit he had assembled accessorized with the pulsing aura of his power, and a pair of antlers raising from his divine brow, as dark in nature as the cut of his suit. Hecate beside him had returned to her more mortal tolerable number of faces, although he skin itself was a marble black, so deep as to draw the light in itself.

Eventually they sweapt into the party as a collective, before dispersing throughout the palatial gardens which houses the grand affair, motes of darkness among the bright clash of their divine colleagues.

“Say hello to Hera.” Hecate whispered sharply as she moved from his side, the goddess of magic no doubt having more entertaining souls to torment and chide this evening. In truth he was already moving that way, seeking out the hostess of the evening. They had a complicated bond, far more so than he had with his brothers even if not always so volatile. The reminded he would inevitably have to deal with Poseidon as well have him brief pause, before he laid eyes on the hostess and her treasured daughter.

“My Queen,” Hades dipped his head in a manner that was *almost* reverent. It may have sounded like the King of the Dead admiring some greater hierarchy, but in truth, she had never stopped being the Queen of the Gods. The divine did not separate from something as pedestrian as death, the issue was if that title meant anything beyond platitude. “And my darling niece, you take after their better halves.” Hades spoke with a rare, truthful, smile.

It was hot but not unpleasant beneath Helios’s rays on Old Olympus. A salty breeze washed over the crowded beaches and eased the unsavory scent that lingered from the unending party. Mortal and divine mixed together freely; the city did not judge on this, only on appearance and wealth.

Persephone lounged on a balcony overlooking an already chaotic scene below her. If she were mortal, perhaps she’d be nursing a hangover or withdrawal…if she ever chose to fully partake in what the party capital of the world had on offer. One day, maybe, she mused to herself, thoughts everywhere and nowhere at once.

“Korrrrrre.” A voice purred from a pile of pillows next to her, tried to pull her back to the present.

She ignored it, head still propped on slender knuckles, a cascade of auburn hair obscuring her face. She could have been sleeping deeply. Until she moved to pull at the waistband of her pale pink swim bottoms, adjusting them for no reason other than to fidget. Her legs kicked back and forth, a graceful movement that ended with light patters each time her feet met her own plush nest.

Where had he gone? Aidan had taken her eye immediately. Tall, confident, with an easy swagger. He had given her a wide smile as he sauntered up to her and put his arms around her as if they were old lovers and not strangers. She thought she would melt. The nymphs with her had not been pleased and separated them quickly enough, chasing him off and back to his own people. He was mortal, he was male, that was more than enough for Demeter to disapprove and for them to prevent anything more from happening. Traipsing about and having flings with her nymphs or girlfriends hadn't been able to rile up the goddess as much as the mere possibility of any man touching her baby girl.

This one was no different. But the goddess had had practice at getting around her ever watchful guardians. It was a short-lived taste of freedom, one kiss, fleeting but full of fire, and a promise to meet again for breakfast. She’d barely slept but beakfast had come and gone hours ago. The man was nowhere to be found.

“Ugh, Persephone!” The voice whined now. It annoyed her mother to no end, that she refused to respond to Kore anymore, that she refused that maiden was intended as an honorific. Finally addressed as she wished to be though, Persephone turned to meet her friend’s eyes.

“You don’t need to say it.” Wishful thinking.

“Men are liars, he didn't get what he wanted from you then, and now here you are, mooning away. Forget him, let's get a drink or ten and go to the beach.” It was advice given lightly, as if it was all a joke the goddess just hadn't figured out yet.

It didn't feel right though. She fished her phone out from where it had fallen between two pillows and scrolled for any updates nearby. Aidan had sent her a friend request not five minutes after they parted and she couldn’t stop herself from clicking on him again. His face stared back at her from the screen with the same easy-going smile and confidence. He had new posts from other friends, all asking where he was, why wasn't he at this party or that bar, or the beach. It couldn’t be a coincidence. But even if she asked directly she wouldn't get an answer from anyone. Her mother's interference, again, no doubt.

“No.” She surprised herself and her friend who sat up quickly in response. Persephone stood and stretched, languid movements meant to irritate her friend as much as give her time to think it through the rest of the way. Hermes had delivered her invitation forever ago, her mother had forbade her from attending and it's not like she had wanted to go anyways. A bunch of old stuffy gods and their minions playing stupid power games with each other.

Except now…two could continue to play this game.

“We're going shopping.”

---

---

She had never actually rsvp’d. But her friend had been certain there was no way they’d bar the daughter of an Olympian from entering the festivities. It was after all, her home too, the Accords made that clear. Her mortal companion was Persephone’s closest confidante and friend. The woman had proven herself quickly and technically worked as her executive assistant. In truth, the goddess couldn’t run Lillium now without her. Meghan was one of the few that the goddess felt confident was not under her mother’s thumb, and together they often evaded the ones who were. They had shopped until the goddess found perfection, but that had meant they arrived late. There would be no grand entry for Demeter’s progeny.

“It's better this way anyways, probably can hide from your mom a bit longer.” Meghan whispered into her ear when they neared the gate to the palace courtyards housing the party. “And actually have some fun before we’re forced out.” She paused dramatically, a look of fear darkening her face. “They won’t kill me for being an innocent bystander right?” One flash of concern and the mortal cracked a grin. “Kidding, kidding.”

How the girl managed to maintain her composure when Persephone herself felt overwhelmed to be at the seat of the gods was a feat. So little seemed to phase her, another reason to love her, even when she was annoying. The goddess squeezed her friend’s arm and pulled her closer.

“The point is she sees me at some point though.” She giggled nervously. “Or else I came here for no reason.”

They entered without fanfare even as her arrival was announced. Her list of epithets was unnecessary and most caused her to roll her eyes.

Persephone watched as Meghan scanned the area, clearly looking for Demeter only to give up when the matron of the harvest didn’t come swooping down in judgement of them.

“Well when she does, she’s really going to take issue with what you’re wearing.” Meghan paused only to add with a knowing smile. “Because you look sexy, downright ‘indecent’ with all that cleavage.”

“Not enough to draw attention with what everyone else decided to wear.” Her head turned, taking in the scene for herself. “Or not wear.” She spied Aphrodite and groaned internally, nudging Meghan to take in the sight. “Apparently love doesn't need imagination.” Her dress in contract was downright conservative, even with the plunging neckline and back. Faint vines crawled across her skin, pulsing to her annoyance, framed by the dark green cloth and woven vines.

Her friend made a slight tsking noise, but seemed rather taken by the sight. Most everyone would have been really. “Should we dance then?” Meghan proposed with a sly grin. “Or are you going to stay out here the entire night and not even bother tempting the fates.”

Persephone’s brow shot up at the flippant suggestion. Her mouth opened to rebuke the statement.

“Oh stop, I know, I won’t invoke them again.”

“I will absolutely disown you if they appear because of you. I don’t know you, never did.”

“You’re cruel.”

“You’d do the same.”

Meghan laughed, but held out her hand dramatically anyways. “Maybe it will be enough to make someone jealous, hm?”

That was not in her plans, no matter if she saw someone who could send her heart fluttering, her mother’s warnings about the danger of New Olympus were too ingrained. She was here to be seen, to send a message to Demeter that she was her own person, and that she could handle herself.

“Doubtful, but we can try.” The goddess agreed at last before taking the offered hand and joining the others already on the dance floor.

Eventually though, Meghan found where other mortals of importance had gathered and decided it was an excellent opportunity to network. The woman always seemed to find a way to fit work in. Persephone gave her leave and danced alone, moving to the ever changing rhythms in a mass of bodies. She submitted to the music, let it move her as it willed, a freedom she craved, to just be. It was enough that she nearly forgot where she was and she was around.

A body slammed into her and she instinctively pushed it away, her head snapping about to see who had disturbed her.

“Oh hello pretty little bird.” His words slurred. A man, no one recognizable, ignored the push and stepped back into her space. “No, not bird. Pretty flower, are you in bloom sweetness?”

Persephone’s expression turned hard and she stopped dancing completely to take two steps back. The guy didn’t take the hint and closed the distance again. “Yeah, that’s not going to work.”

If he heard the rejection he didn’t heed it or even acknowledge it. He leaned in and grabbed her elbow, soft hands, the type who had never had to work. Persephone knew he had to be someone of some status, but she twisted away from his grip. “Don’t touch me.”

“Dance with me baby.” He urged, his fingers tightening.

Anger welled in her and spilled over, a thick vine grew from her shoulder and snaked it’s way down her arm and around his wrist.

“Want me closer, do you?”

“Pervert.” The vine crawled with speed up his arm and around his neck, enough to lift him so his feet danged just off the ground now. Realization set in and his expression shifted between anger and fear. “I said don’t touch me.”

The crowd immediately around her finally took notice of the exchange.From the corner of her eye, she saw one or two bodies running off somewhere. This was not exactly how she had wanted to make a scene. And now she really didn’t know what to do, she wanted to leave, it was a mistake to come here.