I Am Zeus-Chapter 46: Birthday Invitation

Zeus stood at the edge of the balcony, his white robes drifting in the sharp morning wind. Below him, Olympus spread out in silent splendour: marble halls shining in dawn light, temple braziers smoking with fresh offerings, gardens of olive and laurel drifting with bees and small songbirds. But he saw none of it.

His fists clenched at his sides, the crackle of faint static biting the air around him.

Metis stood a few paces behind, her silver crown catching the rising sun in quiet brilliance. She watched him with calm eyes, though faint worry lined her brow.

"Zeus," she said softly, her voice clear and unhurried, "you cannot let this eat at you. Hera will not admit it. She has no reason to."

Zeus turned sharply, lightning flickering across his irises. His hair, loose this morning, whipped across his shoulders with the force of his aura.

"She orchestrated this!" he growled, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "The fake threats. The ’hidden danger’ to Olympus. She wanted you vulnerable, exposed to the council. She wanted you dead."

Metis didn’t flinch. She folded her hands before her waist, her blue robes whispering softly in the breeze that cut through the high balcony arches.

"And yet," she said gently, "I am alive."

Zeus exhaled sharply, turning away again. The wind stirred around him, ruffling his robes like restless wings.

"She thinks I am blind to her schemes," he muttered, his teeth gritted. "But this—"

He paused, his hands trembling faintly before he forced them still.

"This is not the first time she has moved against you," Metis finished for him, her voice soft and calm. "And it will not be the last."

He didn’t respond. The silence between them stretched, filled only by the keen whistling of mountain winds and the faint distant ringing of temple bells.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and tired. "She was not always like this."

Metis’ gaze softened. She stepped forward, placing a gentle hand against his broad back. "No one is born a schemer," she said. "Even gods."

For a moment, he closed his eyes, feeling her warmth through the thin fabric of his robe. Her scent was cool and clear, like fresh river water over stone.

"Come inside," she said quietly. "Eat. Rest. The world will still be here when you wake."

He didn’t move. Didn’t turn. His eyes remained locked on the glowing horizon beyond Olympus’ golden spires.

"...In a moment," he said softly.

She studied him for a breath longer, then nodded once, silent and regal as she turned and left the balcony, her silver crown catching one last glint of dawn before she disappeared behind the tall carved doors.

Zeus stood alone, his breathing deep and silent as the winds whipped around him.

Then—

A faint fluttering noise.

He turned his head sharply. Perched on the window ledge just inside his chamber were two massive ravens. Their feathers shimmered with faint cosmic oil-sheen, eyes like black glass marbles reflecting the shifting dawn.

"Thought and Memory..." he rumbled softly.

The ravens cawed in unison, flaring their wings slightly. One of them—its beak faintly chipped from an old injury—leaned forward and gagged once, spitting out a small rolled scroll tied in dark leather cord.

Zeus raised a brow, stepping forward to take it from where it clattered onto the stone window sill.

He glanced at the raven, who simply cawed again, flicking its beady eyes impatiently.

"You’d think," he muttered under his breath as he unrolled the scroll, "that Odin would find a better way to send messages. Perhaps one that does not involve bird vomit."

The ravens flapped their wings irritably, clicking their beaks at him before launching themselves off the window ledge in unison. He watched them wheel away into the brightening sky, small black shapes against the deep gold and pink of dawn.

He turned his eyes back to the scroll. The leather uncurled with a faint crackle of ancient runes, revealing Odin’s precise, blade-sharp handwriting across thin white bark parchment.

"Zeus, King of Olympus.

You are invited to the naming ceremony of my son, Baldur, to be held at the golden halls of Gladsheim in two moons’ time.

There will be feasting, poetry, and combat exhibitions. Bring what honour you will.

– Odin Allfather."

Zeus exhaled softly through his nose, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the storm in his chest.

"Baldur..." he murmured. "So that’s what you name him."

He rolled the scroll back up and tucked it into his belt sash. The dawn breeze rustled his long hair across his shoulders again, the scent of cold olive groves drifting up from the mountain gardens below.

His eyes flicked south, towards where Asgard lay hidden beyond the mortal realms, wrapped in runic veils and rainbow bridges.

Two moons’ time...

He frowned faintly, the smile fading as his thoughts drifted back to Hera. To Metis. To the endless tensions crawling beneath Olympus’ golden floors.

He felt the weight of his throne like a stone on his spine. The lives under his rule, divine and mortal alike. His mother’s quiet prayers from the depths of Gaia’s groves. His father’s silent grave in Tartarus. His brothers’ and sisters’ watching eyes.

The storm inside him curled tighter, quiet lightning crackling across his skin before fading back into silence.

He turned away from the balcony railing, robes drifting softly around his ankles. His sandals brushed against the marble floor with each heavy step as he walked back into his chambers, the carved golden doors closing silently behind him.

In the faint dawn shadows, Metis sat by the low table, pouring steaming tea into thin bronze cups. She looked up at him as he entered, her eyes tired but calm, her silver crown set lightly against her dark hair.

"Was it Odin?" she asked softly.

Zeus grunted in confirmation, sinking down onto the floor cushions opposite her. She passed him a cup, the pale steam curling between them like a silent offering.

"Baldur’s naming ceremony," he said after a sip, the hot tea cutting through the chill in his bones.

Metis smiled faintly. "Then you will go?"

He said nothing for a long moment. The tea’s warmth seeped into his chest, softening the ache there. He watched her across the rim of the cup, her calm eyes, her quiet hands folding the tea cloth in neat silent motions.

Finally, he set the cup down.

"Yes," he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "I will go."

Metis nodded once, her gaze lowering back to the tea she poured for herself.

"Then I will remain," she said, her voice firm and serene. "Olympus must not be left without rule."

Zeus closed his eyes briefly, a flicker of pain passing through his chest. He reached out across the low table, his hand covering hers, his thumb brushing lightly against her wrist.

"Be careful," he whispered.

She smiled faintly without lifting her gaze. "Always." fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

And as the pale dawn light filtered through the high windows of Olympus, the two sat together in quiet silence, the smell of hot tea and distant olive groves curling around them like a fleeting, gentle peace.

But in the quiet corners of Zeus’ mind, lightning still whispered, carrying with it the distant echoes of war drums beating beyond the rainbow bridge, and the colder, closer winds of betrayal waiting to break Olympus apart.

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