The halls of Olympus trembled with the sound of Zeus’s voice. The great god of the sky lounged comfortably upon his throne, thunder curling contentedly around his fingers. Athena stood before him, arms crossed, her storm-gray eyes blazing with fury. Below them, on the mortal plane, an army stood on the edge of destruction—her army, warriors who had prayed to her for wisdom and courage, now abandoned to the mercy of fate.
“The invaders wouldn’t honor their side of the agreement…” she continued.
“Daughter, this is not my concern, and it is disrespectful for you to come here and demand I do something about it when you are forcing younger men to partake in the army, without the choice, simply as conscripts.”
“Have you even taken part in…”
“I’ve seen it all from Olympus,” Zeus cut her off again. “I enjoy keeping tabs on my favorite daughter. And I know you and these people you favor have had difficulties getting new conscripts for their army.”
“It’s war, father, everyone has problems. Including you. These people worship you, the invaders do not. There are a lot less of them now. You don’t feel it now, but you will…”
“Don’t tell me what I’m going to feel. You came to me for help solving your problem. You are in no position to dictate what I’m going to feel.”
Athena continued as though he hadn’t interrupted. “If this doesn’t happen, you’re going to feel it.”
Zeus leaned forward, his golden crown glinting in the firelight. “Is that a threat, daughter?”
“It’s a fact,” Athena shot back. “You think you can sit up here and ignore this? If you don’t act, Olympus itself will suffer the consequences. You cannot refuse to help them.” Athena demanded, her voice cutting through the charged air. “You are going to feel very…”
Zeus interrupted yet again. “Don’t tell me how I’m going to feel,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m going to feel very good. You have to be thankful that I’m even listening to you after the others you spoke to gave you the opportunity to stop the war. You are not in a good position. You do not hold the cards.”
Athena tried to make a point, but her father went on. “You are gambling with the worst war this world will ever see. And what you are doing is disrespectful to me, and to the people, after I’ve backed you for so long.”
Athena clenched her jaw. “Do you really think that speaking loudly about…”
Zeus picked up the talk immediately. “I am not speaking loudly,” he interrupted sternly. “You’ve done enough talking. Your worshippers are in trouble. They are not winning. You have a chance of survival because of me. If I hadn’t offered my help, they would have already been defeated.” He leaned back. “They are dying. They are running low on men and weapons. You do not have the cards. I gave them the javelins and they know it. I have done enough, and you need to be thankful I’ve done that.”
“You haven’t done enough. They haven’t won, and the fighting only made the invaders more aggressive.”
Athena stepped closer. “This is not just any war. This is justice, Zeus. And you know it.”
Zeus looked away, tapping his fingers against his throne. The clouds outside darkened, as if sensing the unease in their king. “Perhaps,” he murmured, “but my decision stands.”
Athena exhaled sharply. “Then don’t come crying to me when the balance of power shifts. When your name is cursed instead of praised.”
Zeus chuckled. “Let them curse. Let them pray. The storm will pass, as it always does.”
Athena turned to leave. “Not all storms pass. Something tells me this one won’t.” And with that, she vanished, leaving only the echo of her defiance in the halls of Olympus.