The Time of Zeus Book 5: the Coup
Copyright© 2025 by Carlos Santiago
Chapter 16: The Coup
“You would accuse me of insurrection? Has it now become a crime to cherish life?”
— Jor-El (as portrayed by Marlon Brando), Superman: The Movie (1978). Written by Mario Puzo, with additional screenplay work by David Newman, Leslie Newman, and Robert Benton. Directed by Richard Donner. Based on characters created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster. Produced by Warner Bros. Pictures and Dovemead Ltd. Copyright © 1978 Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. All rights reserved.
The winds of the Lower Realm faded away like a memory as Athena and Zeus appeared back onto the upper air of Olympus. The godly mountain accepted them as it always had and would, with open arms.
There was a stillness to their home that the Lower Realm could not mirror or match. No fanfare greeted their return, but it was not needed. This was a home made from a union of two Primordials. Its prestige could not be matched and made its presence second to none for Athena.
Zeus walked beside his daughter with his luminosity that came from being the King of Olympus, but it was all too apparent to the daughter of Metis that he was still drained, if not diminished, from the exercise of breathing life into humanity.
Though only two had witnessed his exertion, the effects were all too real on his body. His face bore deeply set lines on his face, and his already white hair was showing signs of withering. These alterations were smaller, but because Athena had a familiarity with Zeus, and she had been there before and after he unleashed his energy into the clay figures.
He did not speak to her, but neither did she try to start up a conversation.
She walked a half-step behind him as the lesser of the two beings.
When they were within the confines of his palace, it was Athena who broke the silence.
“You should rest, Father.”
Zeus did not protest. Instead, he gave her a nod.
“You might be right,” he replied.
He led her to his room where he started to fall asleep. A lantern with a candle was the only light in the area. That was when Athena saw her opening. As he stumbled into bed, she poured the poppy seed dust into the candle, making the material be consumed by the fire and permeate the room.
Zeus did not question his daughter’s actions. He simply rolled into bed, and closed his eyes. The soft smoke from the candles were floating toward him as Athena used her magic to make the breeze move away from her and toward her father.
“Thank you,” he said, unaware of what she was doing.
His words were quieter than thunder and far weaker than what of war.
“Rest well, King of Olympus,” Athena said, leaving the room.
She closed the doors quietly behind her.
Athena stood in the silence for several moments longer. She let out the breath she had been holding back. If all went according to plan, she would see a new Olympus within the next day.
When Athena left Zeus’ palace, Hestia stood at the great marble archway at the entrances of Zeus’ home. Messengers and minor gods began to gather like ants before a stone too large to move.
The usual audiences were coming, and of course, Zeus had neglected to hand off those responsibilities to others to handle his responsibilities as a ruler.
All Hestia had to do was provide a soft smile and a steady gaze and the petitioners were made happier.
“The King is indisposed,” she said gently, like a mother telling a child that their father could not come to dinner.
“If you are seeking an audience with Zeus, and your matter is not urgent, please come back tomorrow. Anything that requires an audience today, I would be more than happy to see you,” Hestia continued.
They did not question her. After all, she was one of the six original usurpers to Cronos. She was a Princess of Olympus by relation to the Mad Titan. If Zeus and Hera were indisposed, it would make sense that this sister of Zeus would see them.
She did not need to rule or threaten; Hesita simply was. Like a hearth, she was the center of a room, and she was careful to not push or bludgeon or be cruel in any capacity. With her gentile warmth, people would flock to her.
Petitioners bowed. Scrolls were not yet handed over, but they followed her to her palace as simply as she might heard a flock of sheep.
Somewhere deep in the palace, Hestia knew that Zeus slept. Hera would be coming soon, and of course she would. The public would never doubt the intentions of a queen coming to see her husband.
For all anyone knew, they would use this time to be intimate. Maybe they were discussing the future of Olympus. No one could know the inner workings of the power couple of Mount Olympus, but that worked to Hestia’s favor.
After all, the less others knew, the more they would speculate. Their guesses would work as a cover to obscure the truth. That was more than enough for the eldest sibling of Zeus.
As she came to the threshold of her palace, Hestia received Olympus like a patient tending a home that she had never truly left.
They gathered near the stone formation that overlooked the river valley where Prometheus was playing with his strange creation. The four sentinels of Zeus stood in momentary silence.
What Zeus and Prometheus had wrought were unique to be sure, but the children of Pallus could not truly appreciate the power, artistry, and hardwork that had gone into the making of the mortals that were humanity.
Nike leaned against a makeshift column, arms folded. Bia was tall, silent, and looking to Cratus. Zelus watched the horizon (keen to watch Prometheus) with a hawk’s patience.
Cratus’ gaze shifted from Olympus in the distance and back to Prometheus. He was trying to ascertain what had just occurred. His mind was not like that of Athena or Prometheus, so while he knew this was an important moment, but his focus was on the idea of whether or not Zeus was in danger.
It was in this quiet of thinking that Poseidon and Apollo arrived in a flash of light together before the quartet. Apollo’s gait was casual while Poseidon appeared every bit the king of his brother.
Cratus did not believe Poseidon to be the equal to Zeus, and he likely never would, but he could see the comparison between them.
“Well now,” Poseidon said, his voice a low current, easy and smooth. “Quite the gathering of loyalists. What is going on?”
Cratus turned, giving the Sea King a measured look. If he had been momentarily impressed by Poseidon, it died a quick death after Poseidon spoke.
“Private business,” he said.
Poseidon raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Apologies, Cratus!” Poseidon exclaimed in his over the top way. “We are not here to interfere. I am simply concerned. My brother’s been stretching himself thin, after all.”
The four siblings said nothing, but they exchanged a look. It was clear that Poseidon was more in the know when compared to the other gods. That made sense as he was the brother to the King of Olympus.
Cratus gave a nod, which help put his siblings at ease.
“You’re not wrong,” he said. “I have had the same thoughts as of late. Prometheus is too clever for his own good. He might use the moment to his advantage.”
“Exactly,” Poseidon said, stepping closer, conspiratorially. He wrapped up the lesser titan in an arm. “You ought to see what we’ve done in Poseidonus lately! The coralwork’s stitched up tighter than a kraken’s grip, gleaming with wards and woven runes. They might give you ideas ... Olympus could use a few extra precautions, don’t you think?”
No matter what Cratus had expected Poseidon to say, those words were not it. He looked to his siblings, who were just as confused as he was.
Poseidon was a joke, and a bit of a lay-about, but he was King of the Seas. Perhaps, time had cooled his nature and made him more serious. Maybe Pontus or Amphitrite had helped make him a more of a regal being than he used to be.
Cratus considered the offer.
His siblings could stay and watch Prometheus. Learning more to help protect Zeus was a priority of his position.
“That would be worthwhile,” Cratus replied simpled
“Good!” Poseidon exclaimed in his exuberant way. “We can leave shortly.”
“Why are you here?” Bia wondered.
Apollo leaned on his bow and looked toward Zelus.
“I came to have a practice in archery with Zelus. I cannot always compete with Athena or Artemis, but I have heard that Zelus is a renowned archer in his own right.”
Zelus raised an eyebrow.
“I would offer you no special treatment, Apollo, so you may very well lose to me.”
“If I lose, then I will learn.,” Apollo said brightly. He turned to Cratus. “Did you not say I should be more mature or some such?”
“I did,” he replied with a nod. He looked to Bia, and waved him off.
“We’ll stay,” she said. “Prometheus seems quiet by Zeus’ gift, but we’ll watch him all the same.”
Apollo grabbed Zelus and disappeared with him in a flash. They would go to his palace on Olympus to practice their skills.
Poseidon vanished with Cratus to look over the city.
The duplicity was scarcely noticed, and all was going to Athena’s plan.
The chamber was dim, lit only by the flickering warmth of a single candle. Without even inhaling, Hera was aware of what Athena had done.
Hera was careful. She believed Hypnos when he said that his poppy seed dust had the power to put a god to sleep. For what she needed to do, Hera would need to be awake.
Without an enchantment on her, Hera would not struggle to keep consciousness.
She looked around the bed chambers. She had been there many times. It was in those quarters that she had fulfilled her marital duties as a wife many times.
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