I Am Zeus-Chapter 44: Coronation Day

Olympus – The Day of Coronation

The sky over Olympus burned gold and white as the sun rose to its peak. Trumpets of bronze sounded from every tower, their calls echoing across the mountain, carried down into the mortal world like divine thunder. Marble courtyards overflowed with gods and spirits, all gathered to witness the crowning of their queen.

Garlands of olive leaves and laurel hung from the colonnades. Perfumed smoke curled from a thousand braziers, filling the air with the scent of cedar, sage, and crushed rose petals. Lesser gods moved through the gathered throng, scattering white and crimson blossoms across the marble floors until it looked as if Olympus itself bled beauty.

Zeus stood on the highest dais at the centre of the great courtyard. His robe was deep indigo trimmed with gold, pinned at the shoulder with a diamond lightning bolt. His hair fell in gleaming golden waves down his back, and his eyes burned with quiet stormlight. At his side stood Metis, her lavender robes simple but elegant, her dark hair pinned up with silver combs shaped like crescent moons.

The gods watched in silent reverence. Poseidon stood near the front, trident in hand, his sea-green hair falling loose over his dark blue robe. Hades lingered in the shadows of a marble column, arms folded inside his obsidian cloak, his eyes hidden under his brow. Demeter and Hestia stood side by side, calm and solemn. Hera was there too, dressed in robes of blood-red silk embroidered with golden peacocks, her face a cold mask of regal beauty.

Zeus lifted his hand. Thunder rumbled softly through the clouds above, a quiet command for silence. The courtyard fell still.

"Gods of Olympus," he said, his voice carrying across the courtyard like rolling storm winds, "today we crown the queen of this realm. A queen of wisdom. A queen of patience. A queen who will guide Olympus beyond the reach of storms."

His gaze turned to Metis, and for a moment, the storm in his eyes softened to gentle rain.

"Metis," he said quietly, though every god heard him, "step forward."

Metis moved with quiet grace to stand before him. She bowed her head, her hands folded before her, her eyes calm and unafraid. The gathered gods leaned forward slightly, the tension thick as unfallen thunder.

Zeus raised the golden crown high. Crafted by Brontes himself, it glimmered with runes of law and wisdom, thin threads of silver and electrum twisting between polished opals that flickered with hidden light. He lowered it slowly towards Metis’s brow—

A sharp whistling split the air.

Time slowed. Zeus’s eyes snapped sideways, lightning flaring in his pupils. A spear, its shaft black as pitch and its blade gleaming with cruel iron light, cut through the air straight towards Metis’s chest.

In a blur, Zeus’s hand shot out. Lightning crackled from his palm as he caught the spear mid-flight, its iron head inches from Metis’s heart. The force of the catch sent cracks spiderwebbing through the marble floor at his feet. The courtyard erupted in chaos. Gods leapt back, weapons half-drawn, voices rising in confusion and fear.

Zeus stood unmoving, his chest heaving as the spear trembled in his grip, smoke rising where his lightning scorched its dark wood. His eyes blazed with raw fury as he turned slowly, sweeping his gaze across the assembled gods.

"WHO DID THIS?" he roared, his voice shaking the columns and rattling the bronze shields hanging along the high arches. Thunder split the sky above, jagged silver bolts forking down to strike the far peaks of Olympus, sending tremors through the sacred mountain.

Silence fell. The gods stood frozen, eyes wide, robes trembling against their skin. Even Poseidon looked grim, his grip tightening on his trident. Hades narrowed his eyes, shadow flickering across his pale face. Demeter covered her mouth with her fingers. Hestia’s eyes welled faintly with tears, though none fell.

Metis stood very still beside Zeus, her eyes calm despite the spear’s iron head so close to her chest only moments before. She reached out and touched his forearm gently.

"Zeus," she whispered, her voice low but steady, "let them speak."

His chest heaved once, twice. Then he threw the spear down at his feet. It clattered across the marble, spinning before settling with its black shaft vibrating against the stone.

"Step forward," he commanded, his voice deep with quiet threat. "Step forward and claim your deed... before I tear this mountain apart to find you."

No one moved. The gods remained silent, fear rippling between them like a hidden tide. Hera watched with narrowed eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line. The faintest flicker of tension tightened her jaw, but her face remained smooth, carved in cold beauty.

Kratos stepped forward, his heavy sandals cracking the marble beneath his feet. His iron-dark eyes met Zeus’s without fear, but he shook his head slowly.

"It was not I, Lord Zeus."

Beside him, Bia remained silent, her gaze sharp and cold. Phobos only smiled faintly, though his fingers twitched at his sides, the faint scent of blood drifting around him like perfume. Icelus blinked slowly, dream-mist coiling from his hair as he whispered, "Not I... not I..."

Zeus’s gaze swept over them and then turned, his blue eyes burning into Hera’s. For a long moment, the courtyard was silent but for the quiet hiss of breeze rustling the olive garlands overhead.

Hera tilted her chin slightly, meeting his gaze with a calm, regal coldness.

"You think I would act so openly?" she asked softly, her voice like frost across still water.

Zeus’s jaw tightened. Lightning flickered across his shoulders, his fingers curling into fists.

"Do not test me today, Hera," he said, his voice low and shaking with the effort to remain calm. "Not today."

Hera said nothing. She merely lowered her gaze slightly, the faintest curve of a smile touching the corner of her lips before vanishing as quickly as it came.

Zeus looked away, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath as he turned back to Metis. The crown still lay in his free hand, untouched by the chaos. Carefully, he lifted it again, his fingers trembling faintly from rage. Metis raised her eyes to him, her gaze quiet and unafraid.

"Continue," she whispered, her voice soft and calm.

His throat tightened. Slowly, he placed the crown upon her brow. The moment it settled, the sky above split with silent lightning, thin silver forks branching across the heavens like tree roots in a black sea. A warm breeze washed through the courtyard, rippling the garlands and banners. The gods bowed low, their voices hushed in quiet reverence.

"Hail Metis," Poseidon said quietly, his deep voice rolling through the courtyard like a tide against stone. "Queen of Olympus."

"Hail Metis," the gods echoed softly, their voices trembling with the fading echoes of thunder.

Zeus stepped back, his gaze sweeping across them all. The storm behind his eyes burned cold and silent, a promise of reckoning yet to come.

Above them, the sun burned pale and distant in a sky crossed by silent silver scars, and Olympus held its breath, caught between dawn and ruin.

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