I Am Zeus-Chapter 42: Talking To Zeus

Olympus – The Empty Courtyard

The gods were already dispersing back to their halls, their sandals whispering across marble as their voices rose in quiet speculation. Only the morning wind remained, drifting between the tall columns and carrying the faint smell of olive leaves and burning incense.

Zeus stood with Metis at his side, his hand brushing hers once before dropping back to his side. His golden eyes followed Hera’s fading silhouette as she vanished beyond the eastern archways, her crimson robe trailing behind her like spilled wine.

"Zeus."

The voice came low and calm, but with a heaviness like deep currents pulling under the ocean surface. Zeus turned his head slightly, watching Poseidon approach from where he had remained standing after the announcement. His brother moved with the silent grace of tides, his long sea-green hair falling loosely around his shoulders, damp with salt mist that seemed to cling to his skin wherever he walked.

Metis bowed her head slightly to Poseidon before stepping away, her lavender robes brushing softly against the marble as she left them alone. Zeus watched her go for a moment, the faint flicker of sadness crossing his face, before turning fully to Poseidon.

"What is it, brother?" he asked quietly, his voice carrying only for them, lost beneath the echoing halls of Olympus.

Poseidon didn’t answer immediately. He simply stood there, staring past Zeus at the archway Metis had just walked through. His trident glinted faintly in the new sun, the three prongs humming softly with quiet, unspent power.

Finally, he spoke, his words careful and low.

"You know how I feel about Titans."

Zeus raised an eyebrow slightly, his golden hair catching the breeze that drifted between them.

"Metis is not Cronus," he said softly.

Poseidon’s gaze flicked to his brother, sea-green eyes dark and still. "No," he agreed. "She isn’t. But her blood is theirs. And her mind... is like the deep sea. Calm on the surface. But no one sees the trenches below."

Zeus chuckled faintly, shaking his head. "That’s why she is fit to rule beside me. She sees beyond what I can."

Poseidon’s jaw tightened slightly, his grip shifting on his trident shaft. "And Hera? Will you cast her aside like driftwood? She is storm and pride, but she is also Olympus, born of its first gods."

Zeus’s smile faded, his expression growing tired. He ran a hand through his hair, letting the strands fall back against his neck.

"I am not casting her aside. She casts herself aside when she refuses to see beyond herself."

Poseidon stepped closer, lowering his voice until it was little more than a rolling tide against stone.

"You are making an enemy of her," he said. "And if Hera becomes your enemy... Olympus will bleed."

For a moment, Zeus didn’t speak. The wind moved between them, ruffling their robes and sending the scent of cedar smoke curling around their ankles.

Then he looked up, his golden eyes meeting Poseidon’s dark, endless gaze with a quiet certainty.

"I know," he said simply.

Poseidon studied him for a long time, the lines of his face unmoving. The courtyard felt colder suddenly, as if a tide had pulled away from the shore, leaving only silence in its wake.

Finally, Poseidon sighed, a deep, weary sound that seemed to vibrate up from his chest.

"You’ve always been stubborn," he murmured. "But remember... the sea is patient. The sea waits. And when storms pass, it reclaims what was lost."

Zeus smiled faintly, a tired, knowing smile. "And you, brother, will you wait quietly for what you believe is yours?"

Poseidon’s lips curved into a humourless smirk. "I will wait. But I will not bow."

Zeus nodded once, accepting that truth between them. Then he stepped forward, clasping Poseidon’s shoulder in a firm grip. Lightning flickered faintly across his fingers, crackling against the sea-god’s damp skin. But Poseidon didn’t flinch. He never did.

"Keep Olympus steady," Zeus said softly, "while I prepare for the coronation."

Poseidon didn’t answer. He simply turned away, his trident striking the marble floor with a dull chime as he walked back towards the sea-facing halls, the scent of salt trailing in his wake.

Zeus watched him go, the morning sun rising higher above Olympus, washing the marble towers in pale gold. His gaze turned to the horizon where the sky met the endless world below, and for a moment, his eyes darkened with quiet storms that no one could hear.

Then he turned and walked back into the halls of Olympus, the whispers of gods echoing behind him like distant thunder.

Poseidon’s footsteps faded into silence, leaving the colonnade empty but for the drifting scent of salt and cedar smoke. The pale morning light filtered through the marble arches, casting long shadows across the smooth floors. For a brief moment, Olympus felt still—caught between the ending night and the awakening day.

Then Hera appeared at the far end of the hall.

She moved like a shadow given form, her crimson robes whispering against the stone as she approached. Her hair was pinned high, a few dark strands loose around her temples, framing her sharp eyes. There was no softness in her gaze today—only the cold gleam of calculation and restless fury.

She stopped a few paces away from Poseidon, tilting her chin up slightly to meet his eyes.

"What did he say?" she asked, her voice quiet, each word edged with restrained anger. It wasn’t a question born of curiosity. It was born of strategy.

Poseidon looked down at her, his expression calm and unreadable. The faint mist clinging to his shoulders curled in the thin morning breeze.

"He said..." he began softly, his voice rolling low like a distant wave, "...to do whatever you have in mind."

Hera blinked once, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before her lips pressed into a thin, cold line.

"Whatever I have in mind," she echoed, her voice bitter. She looked away, staring out through the open archway at the pale gold sky beyond. Her fingers twisted slightly in the folds of her robe, tightening until the fabric creased under her grip.

Poseidon shifted his trident against the marble floor, watching her with that same silent stillness that made him both comforting and unnerving.

"He’s not ready to listen to you," he said quietly. "Or to me."

Hera let out a small, humourless laugh, though no mirth reached her eyes. "He never listens. He only commands."

Poseidon tilted his head slightly, sea-green hair falling over his shoulder. "And what will you do, sister?"

She turned back to him slowly, her gaze sharp and dark, glowing faintly under the flickering torchlight.

"What I’ve always done," she said softly, her voice low and heavy with quiet certainty. "What must be done."

Poseidon studied her for a long moment, his dark eyes calm, unreadable. Then he nodded once, his grip tightening around his trident.

"Then do it," he said simply.

Hera’s lips curved faintly, the ghost of a smile that held no warmth. ƒrēenovelkiss.com

"I will."

Without another word, she turned and walked away down the silent hall, her crimson robe trailing behind her like a dying flame. The echoes of her footsteps faded into the quiet, leaving Poseidon alone among the tall columns and drifting incense.

He watched her go, his gaze thoughtful and heavy. Outside, the morning winds rose, stirring the olive trees along the temple paths. Their silver-green leaves whispered under the dawn, carrying secrets between gods that no mortal would ever hear.

Poseidon sighed, a deep, quiet sound, and turned back towards the sea-facing halls, his mind already drifting to tides and battles yet unseen.

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