I Am Zeus-Chapter 45: Planning

Olympus

The coronation ended under uneasy skies. The gods dispersed in silence, the soft brush of sandals on marble echoing like distant rain. Metis stood quietly beside Zeus, her new crown glinting with cold silver light as she accepted whispered congratulations and solemn bows. Hera watched from afar, her crimson robes motionless in the cooling breeze.

When the crowds faded and Olympus returned to its restless quiet, Hera moved swiftly. She left the high halls through side corridors, robes whispering against polished stone as she passed columns carved with stories of old victories and older betrayals. Her sandals clicked with steady resolve as she descended into the deeper chambers of Olympus, where shadows pooled in cold corners and the air smelled of old incense and burnt offerings.

She entered a long, narrow hall lit only by thin slits of daylight cutting down from high windows. At the far end stood a set of bronze doors carved with peacock feathers and olive branches. Two silent guards bowed deeply as she approached, pushing the doors open without a word.

Inside, the chamber was dim. Tall oil lamps burned along the walls, their flames flickering with thin yellow light. The ceiling rose high above them, lost in darkness, and ivy crawled down along the marble pillars like silent green veins. Hera walked to the centre of the room where Kratos, Bia, Phobos, and Icelus stood waiting. Poseidon was there too, leaning against a column with his trident resting across his shoulders. His sea-green hair fell loose around his dark blue robes, and his expression was unreadable.

They fell silent as Hera entered. She stopped before them, folding her hands before her waist, her golden cuffs glinting in the lamplight. For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the faint hiss of burning oil and the restless breath of the hidden chamber.

"That," Hera said finally, her voice low and sharp, "just shows us one thing."

Kratos tilted his chin slightly, his heavy brow furrowing. "That Zeus is on high alert," he rumbled.

Hera nodded once, her lips curling into a thin smile. "Yes. We cannot harm Metis so long as he is present. His vigilance... it is beyond even my expectations."

Bia shifted, her dark eyes flicking to Poseidon before returning to Hera. "Then... what do we do?"

Hera’s smile widened faintly, though there was no warmth in it. "We wait," she said softly. "We wait for a moment when Zeus is not here... or better yet—" She paused, her eyes glittering under the lamplight, "—when he is not in our realm entirely."

Poseidon lifted his gaze from where he watched the flickering flames, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "And how, dear sister," he asked, his voice calm and deep as the ocean floor, "do you propose we achieve that?"

Hera turned slowly to face him, her robes shifting around her ankles like liquid blood. For a moment, she said nothing, letting the tension coil tight around them all like a strangling vine. Then she spoke, her voice low and cold with quiet satisfaction. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

"Soon," she said, "Zeus will leave Olympus. He cannot remain chained to this mountain forever. The mortals are stirring again. Their kings are fighting in the east, their cities rebelling in the west. He will go to them... to remind them of his rule."

Phobos tilted his head slightly, his young face gleaming with faint amusement. "And when he does?"

Hera’s smile grew sharper. "When he does... Metis will remain here. She is queen now. She will stay to rule in his stead, to show Olympus that his choice was wise. And in that time..." She paused, her gaze sweeping across each of them, reading their silent anticipation, "we strike."

Kratos grunted softly, a sound of approval. Bia folded her arms over her chest, silent and still. Icelus blinked slowly, dream-mist drifting around his hair as he murmured, "Dreams of falling... dreams of silent blood..."

Poseidon said nothing for a long moment. Then he pushed away from the column, his sandals brushing against ivy-strewn marble as he stepped forward, the heavy butt of his trident echoing against the floor.

"And how will you do it?" he asked quietly. "Even if Zeus is gone... Metis is cunning. She will not step blindly into your traps."

Hera turned to him fully, lifting her chin with regal poise. "That is why it will not be a trap," she said softly. "It will be a gift."

Poseidon frowned faintly, watching her with unreadable dark eyes. "Explain."

Hera stepped closer to him, her robes whispering across the marble. "We will use her own wisdom against her. We will create a crisis... a false threat to Olympus. One that only she, in her wisdom, would step forward to resolve. And in that moment of exposure—" She lifted her hand, her fingers curling slowly into a fist, "—we end her."

Phobos’s smile widened faintly, dark excitement flickering across his handsome features. "And the gods?" he asked. "They will not question her death?"

Hera’s gaze flicked to him, sharp and cold. "They will mourn her. They will call it tragedy. A queen dying to protect Olympus from a hidden threat. But Zeus will return to find his throne empty, his queen slain, and his people already grieving."

Icelus whispered faintly, dream-mist curling around his fingers. "Dreams of tears... dreams of silent mourning..."

Bia nodded once, her dark eyes flickering with approval. Kratos grunted again, a deep, quiet sound of agreement.

Poseidon remained silent, studying Hera for a long moment. Then he inclined his head slightly, though his face remained dark and unreadable.

"And if Zeus learns the truth?" he asked softly.

Hera smiled faintly, though her eyes burned with cold certainty. "Then he will learn... that Olympus belongs to its gods. Not to a Titan queen."

For a moment, silence filled the chamber. The flickering flames cast shifting shadows across their faces, each god lost in their own thoughts, their own private hungers and fears. Outside, the winds of Olympus rose, rattling the bronze doors and rustling the ivy that curled around the high windows.

Hera turned away from them, walking to the far end of the room where a small shrine to herself burned with thin blue flames. She knelt before it, her robes pooling around her like spilled blood, and pressed her fingers to the cold marble floor.

"Soon," she whispered to the flames, her voice low and steady. "Soon she will fall."

Behind her, the gods shifted. Phobos’s quiet laughter rippled through the shadows like a snake moving through grass. Kratos and Bia stood silent and ready. Icelus drifted into dream-haze once more, his eyes half-closed and glowing with pale mist. Poseidon turned away, resting his trident against his shoulder as he gazed into the darkness beyond the flickering lamps.

The room felt colder suddenly, the shadows pressing closer around them all. Hera rose slowly, turning back to face her gathered allies, her crimson robes whispering softly across the marble.

"Prepare yourselves," she said quietly. "Our time comes soon."

And as they bowed their heads before her, the faint sounds of Olympus drifted down into the hidden chamber – the soft songs of temple doves, the whisper of olive branches in the breeze, the distant echo of divine laughter carried on thin mountain winds.

But beneath it all, silent and unseen, the quiet storm of betrayal gathered its strength, waiting for the day when Olympus would bleed.

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