The grand feast hall of Olympus was alive with laughter and conversation. It had been a couple of years since the Pantheon had settled into this new era, and things were, surprisingly, peaceful. For once, there were no grand wars, no rebellions, no divine disputes needing my intervention. It was a rare moment of respite, one I intended to enjoy.
At the long marble table sat my fellow Olympians, all in various states of indulgence. Poseidon was sipping lazily from a goblet of nectar, his other hand resting on the armrest of his seat, exuding that air of self-satisfaction he always carried. Across from him, Athena was engaged in quiet discussion with Hestia, likely about philosophy or strategy—those two never lacked for intellectual debate. Demeter, as expected, was cheerfully discussing the expansion of agriculture, reveling in the progress of her latest farming projects.
Hecate sat beside me, her presence familiar and steady. She wasn't one for boisterous conversation, but I could always count on her to throw in a sharp comment when the moment required it.
"Atlantis is coming along well," Poseidon was saying, swirling his drink. "The city is nearly complete. Soon, it will be a beacon of power and knowledge unrivaled in the mortal world."
"I hope you have a plan for keeping it above the waves," I mused, leaning back in my chair. "Would be a shame to put in all that effort just for it to sink."
Poseidon shot me a look but smirked. "I'd like to see you do better, Underworld King."
"Please," I scoffed. "The Underworld has stood for eons and never once crumbled and now we are expanding out into Tartarus. Can you say the same for your precious ocean cities?"
The table chuckled, even Athena hiding a small smile behind her goblet.
Demeter wiped her hands on a cloth and turned to Hestia. "And what of you, sister? How fares the heart fare?"
Hestia's warm smile never faded. "As strong as ever to be honest. Ever since Pormetheus gave mortal fires, they have revered me in their homes. Their beliefs give me strength, and I give them warmth in return."
"Hold on, Prometheus died?" I was shocked. I was not expecting that. I mean I hadn't heard from him in so long that I had thought that he was just busy. Now that I thought about it, I did see a lot more mortals using fire for a lot of things lately.
"Yeah." Hestia said as she bit a sausage as she wagged it toward me. "Gave them fire a couple years back when you had left Greece. Last I heard he had decided to traveland was heading to the north."
"I see..." I said as I manipulated a shadow tentacle to make her stop.
The conversation continued for a while, each of us discussing our domains, our responsibilities, and even mundane things about mortal affairs. It was… nice.
Then, as these gatherings often went, the conversation took a turn for the personal.
"So, Hera," Poseidon drawled, his grin a little too mischievous for my liking. "How is your relationship with Aeolus?"
Silence.
Hera, who had been sipping her nectar, choked mid-drink and set the goblet down with a clatter. Aeolus, seated beside her, looked much the same, his usually calm demeanor suddenly rigid.
"What?" Hera asked, her tone sharp as she glanced around the table. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, come now," I interjected, resting my chin on my hand. "Everyone already knows. You two are absolutely terrible at hiding it."
Aeolus groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I told you we weren't subtle enough."
Hera shot him a glare before smacking him on the back of the head, eliciting laughter from the table.
"Honestly," she muttered before sighing. "Fine. Yes. Aeolus and I are together. And…" She hesitated for a moment before squaring her shoulders. "We're engaged."
The table erupted into cheers. Even Hestia, ever composed, clapped her hands together in delight.
"About time," Athena commented, arching an eyebrow. "I was beginning to think you'd drag this out for another century."
Hera rolled her eyes, though I could see the slight smile tugging at her lips. "It's not like I had to inform you of all of my personal affairs."
"But that's the best part of these gatherings," Poseidon grinned. "Speaking of which…" His gaze slid over to me and Hecate, eyes gleaming with mischief. "What about you two?"
I raised an eyebrow. "What about us?"
Demeter scoffed. "Oh, come on. There's no way he and Hecate are actually together. She's just his assistant."
The room went silent. Hecate, beside me, lifted an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for my response. I sighed, setting down my drink.
"We've been together for years," I said simply. "Actually… far before I even became King of the Gods."
There was a collective pause as my words registered. Then:
"What?" Poseidon blinked.
"You're joking," Demeter said, eyes wide.
Athena looked between us with a calculating expression. "You two have been together that long? And none of us knew?"
Hecate finally spoke, voice smooth as ever. "I thought it was rather obvious."
"It was not!" Hera exclaimed.
"Oh, it absolutely was," I countered, smirking. "You all just never paid attention."
Poseidon groaned. "By the Styx… How did we not see this?"
"Maybe because you were all too busy focusing on your own affairs," Hecate quipped.
There was more bickering, some lighthearted jabs, but in the end, the atmosphere remained warm.
Hera and Aeolus were engaged. My relationship with Hecate was finally out in the open. And for once, there was no looming catastrophe, no war, no grand schemes threatening our existence.
For the first time in a long while, we were just family.
<---------------------->
The wedding was held in the Garden of Olympus, a place of breathtaking beauty that had been transformed into an ethereal paradise for the occasion. The gardens, already teeming with ambrosial flora and golden fruit-bearing trees, were adorned with delicate garlands of silver ivy and divine roses, their petals glistening as if kissed by starlight. The air was rich with the scent of nectar and blooming flowers, and glowing wisps of divine energy danced like fireflies, weaving between the guests.
Demeter and Hestia, overjoyed to see their sister married, had taken it upon themselves to handle the decorations, personally ensuring every detail was nothing short of perfection. Demeter wove vines of eternal bloom across the marble pillars and trellises, creating a tapestry of life and color, while Hestia infused warmth and light into the golden lanterns that floated above the garden, bathing the space in a soft, welcoming glow.
The guest list was as grand as the occasion itself—over a thousand immortals, mortals, and divine entities arrived in support of the union. Gods and goddesses, spirits of the winds and seas, nymphs, satyrs, and even a few mortal heroes granted divine favor had gathered, dressed in their finest attire, their presence alone making the event feel even more momentous. The Olympians sat at a long, elevated table overlooking the vast garden, enjoying the spectacle of celebration unfolding before them.
I sat at the head table alongside Hera and Aeolus, watching as the feast carried on in full swing. The two were engaged in quiet conversation, their faces alight with a mixture of excitement and contentment.
The wedding feast itself was nothing short of extravagant—we had gone all out, ensuring that every dish and drink was of the finest quality. I had even taken the liberty of introducing several new dishes and beverages from my old life, flavors and recipes foreign to this world but instantly beloved by all who tasted them. There were platters of roasted meats, drizzled in honey and exotic spices, loaves of bread infused with fruit and nuts, cheeses so rich and smooth they melted on the tongue, and wines and ciders crafted with ingredients never before seen in Olympus. Even the most refined gods found themselves indulging in the unfamiliar delicacies, their expressions shifting from intrigue to delight with every bite.
Laughter and lively chatter filled the air, a constant symphony of mirth and joy. Musicians played lyres and flutes, their melodies weaving seamlessly into the sounds of celebration, while nymphs and dryads danced gracefully through the garden, their movements as fluid as the wind. Cups clinked, stories were exchanged, and for once, there were no conflicts, no schemes—just pure, unfiltered happiness.
Of course, the formalities had to be observed, but to spare myself—and everyone else—the tedium of long-winded speeches, we swiftly moved on to the exchange of gifts. Hera, ever the proud and determined one, had spent months preparing her gift to Aeolus. She had visited the Underworld some time ago, practically begging me to allow her access to my forges. I had relented, curious about what she intended to craft, and Brontus—one of my finest smiths—had given her guidance, teaching her the basics of divine forging. At the time, I hadn't realized her reason for such an endeavor, but looking back, it was almost endearing. Hera, my sister who never got her hands dirty, meticulously hammering away in a forge, sweat on her brow, determination in her eyes—just to make something with her own hands for the one she loved.
The result of her effort was an axe—one she named Stormsplitter. A divine weapon befitting the new god of storms, its edge gleamed with an almost ethereal sharpness, and intricate engravings of roaring tempests ran along the handle. Aeolus took it with reverence, his fingers brushing over the craftsmanship, awe flickering in his gaze before he looked at Hera with nothing but adoration.
Aeolus, however, had not been idle either. The moment Hera had finished her work and departed from the Underworld, he arrived next—asking for my assistance in crafting a gift of his own. Unlike Hera, he wasn't looking to create a weapon. Instead, he forged something far more personal—a golden bangle, delicate yet sturdy, with an embedded gemstone that pulsed like a captured storm. It was imbued with his essence, a piece of his very domain wrapped in gold. He had spent hours perfecting it, ensuring every detail was flawless.
When the time for the exchange came, there was a brief pause—a breath held by all in attendance—as Hera and Aeolus handed their gifts to each other. Hera's eyes softened as she slipped the bangle onto her wrist, the golden band settling against her skin as if it had always belonged there. Aeolus gripped the axe, testing its weight, and nodded, a grin tugging at his lips.
Then, with glasses raised, a toast was given in their honor. Words of love, unity, and eternal companionship filled the air before the final, inevitable moment arrived—the kiss.
Aeolus, ever the embodiment of the skies, wore a grin so wide it was almost ridiculous, arcs of electricity crackling in his hair. Hera giggled at the display, rolling her eyes before reaching up and smoothing the wild locks, her touch effortlessly taming the stray currents. She kissed him again, softer this time, a moment just for the two of them amidst the roaring celebration.
The festivities that followed were nothing short of legendary. The grand feast stretched deep into the night, divine magic ensuring that platters never emptied, goblets never ran dry. The music was intoxicating—harps, lyres, and flutes weaving melodies that drifted through the air like a spell. The nymphs and dryads danced in glowing spirals of light, their joy infectious as even the gods found themselves swaying to the rhythm.
Games and contests soon filled the garden, as was tradition in such grand celebrations. Aeolus, still basking in his wedding bliss, conjured up gusts of wind that sent laughter-filled guests soaring through the air in playful aerial races. Demeter, never one to shy away from friendly competition, challenged Poseidon to a drinking contest—one that ended with the sea god grinning triumphantly as Demeter groaned in defeat, slumped over a goblet nearly her size.
Hestia, ever the heart of Olympus, moved gracefully between the guests, ensuring all were well-fed and cared for. At one point, she even pulled Athena into a quiet conversation, their voices low as they debated strategy over an impromptu game of tactical riddles.
But the true highlight of the evening was Poseidon. At some point, well past the time when etiquette had truly mattered, he stood up, goblet in hand, and with a knowing smirk, began telling stories—jokes, really—about the misadventures of the gods.
It started with a remark about Athena's old battle tactics, then spiraled into a tale about Aeolus accidentally unleashing a storm in the middle of Hera's temple. The gods, already in high spirits, roared with laughter, some even pounding the table in amusement. Poseidon's natural charisma and booming voice had the entire garden hanging on his every word.
I leaned back in my chair, shaking my head with a chuckle. "I think Poseidon just became the first stand-up comedian," I muttered, watching as he soaked in the laughter of his audience.
As the night stretched on, the wild energy of the feast mellowed into something softer. Lanterns floating lazily above, casting golden light over those who lingered in quiet conversation or enjoyed the final remnants of their meals.
I found myself at one of the tables with Hecate, the chaos of the evening melting into a rare moment of peace. She smiled at me, her fingers lacing through mine as she rested her hand atop mine. The flickering lanterns made her eyes shimmer, twin pools of violet light filled with warmth meant only for me.
"You finally look so relaxed and happy," she said softly, her voice carrying just enough for me to hear over the hum of celebration. "I'm really glad that after everything, we can finally move on and have something special."
I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the past loosen its grip, if only for a moment. So much had happened—a war, a duel against my own brother, and losing him to another culture—but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Olympus felt… whole. Perhaps not in the way it once was, but in a way that might be even better.
I glanced around the garden, watching the gods celebrate without fear, without hidden agendas, without the looming shadow of the past. Even after everything—after the rebellion, after the fall of Zeus—there was still something worth preserving, something worth building anew.
"Perhaps Olympus isn't so lost after all," I murmured, my voice carrying a quiet certainty I hadn't felt in ages.
Hecate hummed in agreement, her gaze never leaving mine. Then, with the same calmness, the same soft, almost mischievous lilt in her voice, she asked,
"So, when will we get married?"
I choked on my nectar.