Chapter 2: A King Among Gods

“ ... among the friendly Kronidai he had gotten a life of pleasantness, his bliss became greater than he could bear...”

— Pindar (c. 518–438 BCE), Pythian Ode II (Πυθιόνικος Βʹ), ll. 39–41 (traditional numbering; varies by edition). Composed for Hieron I of Syracuse, c. 475–474 BCE. Translation in archaizing English style by Richard Claverhouse Jebb, later reprinted in public-domain editions of The Odes of Pindar. Public domain.

He descended from the heavens onto the stone floor of his terrace without sound.

The eagle’s wings cut once through the thin air above Olympus, then stilled as easily as one might flex their calf muscles. The currents bent to his desire just as the sky yielded to his commands.

What had been a creature became a symbol, and what had been a symbol returned to into a figure that was far older.

The transformation was not violent; rather, it was as inevitably as smooth as water.

Feathers unraveled into light. Bone stretched themselves and reshaped into the form he was most comfortable in. The vast wings folded inward, dissolving into the broad shoulders of a god who had worn many forms and forgotten none of them since the days of consuming his great love. Where talons had grasped, sandaled feet touched polished stone. Where a keen, golden eye had watched from above, there now stood the gaze that had ended a Great War and stopped a violent coup.

Zeus, the mighty King of Olympus; son of Cronos; vanquisher of Typhon; Lord of the Heavens; and ruler of the gods, stood upon his terrace once more.

His chiton was as white as an untouched cloud and trimmed in gold. A golden laurel adorned his head as a signification that he was the monarch of the mountain. His beard flowed full and proud. His hair was white from his cloudy divinity.

For all of these qualities, he was the noble sovereign adored by most.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

He simply looked out from where he had come.

Below him, the realm of mountains, rivers, forests, and the scattered, growing lives of mortals all stretched out in a way he had not anticipated when he helped breathe life into those small humans.

Among all of those details was her. While his face did not alter, his thoughts shifted to that of Semele. She was part of that cult the Oathfolk or whatever they wanted to be called.

They were a bunch of superstitious nutjobs that wanted the attention of the gods of Olympus through pious acts.

For most, they craved the attention of the gods because they believed they were worthy of that attention. Of the others, they had some idea that through good deeds they could have the attention of the divine.

Not Semele.

She loved Olympus because she fundamentally understood that men were the lesser of the gods. To have the attention of Olympus meant that she was worthy despite her human frailties.

Zeus had enough of human, arrogant entitlement when he had to have Tantalus punished by Hades.

Nevertheless, the thought of Semele settled into him easily, as though she had always belonged among his thoughts.

He could still see her as she had been in the water. The sheer fabric that clung to her body, revealing every inch of her to him.

There was no performance in her actions or demeanor. That would have required for there to be an inch of deception within her, and from what he gleaned of this mortal, that was not part of who she was.

She was only presence itself; a person existing, being in the moment.

She reminded him of Elysía, who had trusted Zeus so completely in the early days of humanity. Elysía could not know, but she was one of the reasons why Zeus had spared the species.

This truth was a poor detail for one such as Zeus to admit, but in the end, her part in his life and its effect were powerful. He could not be denied.

In a union that had not been about politics like with Metis or power like with Hera, he could be drawn to a person for the simple purposes of attraction. For Zeus, that idea alone was worthy of chasing.

Zeus exhaled slowly.

It had been ten thousand years since he felt such a sensation. Nostalgia made all of those emotions flood through him.

In his head and mind, he understood that Semele was not Elysía; nor was she a reflection or shadow of his first mortal love.

Semele could be something ... nearer. Like a continuation of that first love perhaps.

There was something in that analyzation that he could not deny

The memory of affection, the link of the present to the past, the unbridled stirring in his loins all led to the conclusion that he desired her...

So far as he understood her, she was made to serve the gods, and she was (as of yet) unclaimed and untouched by another. By having her, he would be fulfilling the very desire that was in her heart.

Service to him was her truest need.

There was an uncomplicatedness to the matter. He wanted her; she would want him.

His fingers curled once at his side.

Then stilled.

There were matters to attend as king. Then, of course, there was Hera. He always had to consider Hera when he did anything.

She could not harm him physically or magically through any meaningful intention.

That did not mean he could act without thinking.

Hera was quite beloved as the Queen of Olympus. She had cultivated the populace well by attending to the public matters. Further still, the fidelity that Gaia had enforced onto Zeus’ wife appeared (to that rabble) that Hera was the noble one in their marriage.

While Zeus had strayed in the past, he had done well to be more private about his escapades. There were nymphs here and there. He was working on Amphitrite. Likely, if he needed, he could sleep with Aphrodite; he saw the signs of dissatisfaction in her arranged marriage with Hephaestus.

Hera was a fool for forcing that union. Though he was not one to compare circumstances (after all, each person was different), he recognized that Rhea’s forcing Zeus to be with Hera had only made them both positively miserable. Aphrodite was a free spirit who was inclined to take many sexual lovers, much like Zeus, so she would never be sated by Hera’s broken thing of a son.

Shaking his head, he knew disaster when he saw it.

That sham of a marriage was a tragedy waiting to happen.

For all of her mistakes though, Hera came out looking like a shiny wonder that put others in awe. He had tried to humiliate her by stripping her of power and clothing with the stake, but the others only thought of her as noble.

After which, no one shamed her for being more conservative in her dress. She was scarce to let anyone see much of her body. The only person she allowed to see her in the nude was Zeus, and that was to procreate. Hebe was a sweet daughter, whom even Zeus did not want to corrupt, but she was part of the very broken marriage that Zeus could not rid himself of.