THE COURT OF THE GODS
The gods of Olympus always held a meeting on summer and winter solstice; that was common. However, that one grey fall day, the mighty Zeus himself had ordered for a trial to be held in the assembly hall of his palace. This was the most unusual. The Lord of the Sky especially summoned for a trial, not just a meeting; in the most unusual timing, too.
The gods' memory had extended further than the creation of men. However, there had not been one occasion where all gods assembled out of the regular meeting event for more than mere socializing among each other.
Everyone wondered. Who might have done a sin so wretched and damnable that a trial of the gods should be held? What exactly was that particular sin?
The first to enter the majestic hall was Dionysus, the god of wine, leisure, and festivities. His posture was cherubic, almost child-like. His silver curls were crowned with entangled vines, symbolizing his power over all that grew above the ground. His expression was the colour of boredom. Being a god with playful manner, Dionysus had never been fond of such formal assembly. He immediately take his seat on the right corner of the U-shaped arrangement; his finger tapping the ebony of the seat handle as if counting the seconds till he could flee the room and return to all parties that had wished for his blessing to bring joy into them.
The second was Hermes, god of mischief and ambassadors. He assumed the form of a small, agile young man. Covering his head was his prized winged helmet Petasus, and in his right hand was the famous Caduceus: golden winged wand that united all being divided by hate; entwined with the slick figure of two snakes. His mischievous nature abhorred such trial almost as much as Dionysus did. However, his curiosity took over him. Hermes, being the messenger of all gods, knew everything that was going on among them. He hated not knowing anything such as whatever horrible incident that had made Zeus called upon a trial.
Then entered the god of fire and craftsmen, Hephaestus, followed by his unwilling wife, Aphrodite, the goddess of love. The view of them together had always been dramatically contrasted as ever. Hephaestus was a big, brute man. His hands were calloused for hard work at his forge. His face was disfigured for his infamous fall from Olympus. His expression had never been pleasant; excruciatingly displayed the pain and hardship he had endured through his immortal life.
On the contrary, as Hephaestus was the very image of harshness, Aphrodite was beauty herself. Her fair hair was elegantly spread like curtain of golden silk. Her creamy skin was smooth and soft and that way it would remain forever for it would never have to do the merest work or touch the merest roughness. Her features were carved to perfection. Her blue eyes were the most valuable of jewels. Her smile was mesmerizing. Did they know that smile was a mere façade of the awkwardness at the company of her husband?
The next to enter were the marvellous god of the sun and goddess of the moon; the twins Apollo and Artemis. Except for their hair, the two were perfect replica of each other. Same silvery liquid eyes, same pale yet glowing complexion, same astounding beauty. Apollo's golden locks gloriously curled over his head, bright as the sunshine itself. Artemis's was straight, smooth, and dark as the night herself. Even so, however similar their physical features were, there had not been any two personalities more distinct yet in harmony with each other.
Artemis was a silent soul that faced life with great solemnity. Every moment was sacred to her and not a second would ever be wasted for naught. She took every matter seriously, which made her character rather stiff, but her cold-headed, reasonable way of thinking will settle every problem that came forth. Her brother was far more cheerful and less reasonable. He saw only the bright side of everything and hardly ever considered the severity of problems that came towards him. He took on matters at ease and acted upon it playfully without any pressure. Nothing could ever bind him forever. However careless he may seem, he was still the god of prophecy, his knowledge of the future led him to act appropriately when needed. But his other knowledge that the future was always shifting was the thing that made him such an optimistic and adorable person as he was.
However, that time, Apollo didn't look like himself. His face was overcast by grave sadness, for he knew all about that day's ordeal, about the reason the gods were together. It hadn't been a pleasant circumstance. In fact, it was such a horrid circumstance that even the gay god of sun was overcome in grief and could not bear to tell anyone else about that matter, not even his twin and soul mate.
After Apollo and Artemis, the goddess of wisdom entered the room with all of her glory and splendour. Athena's battle armour clanked as she stepped into the room. Never had she forgotten her sacred Aegis shield. The Gorgon's head was engraved in the shield, striking terror to all who set eyes upon it. Unlike other goddesses who reflected beauty, Athena's complexion reflected strength. Her silver hair was cropped short. Her expression was flat and stern; picturing the sternness and neutrality of her soul which was partial to nothing. Her lack of partiality was what she depended on making her objective judgements. She let no emotion got in her way. No matter what was going to happen that fateful day, she was determined not to let anything disturb her clear mind.
Henceforth, came Ares, the god of war. If Athena had come with utter calmness, Ares came in rage. How he hated having to be there among the other gods! Not once had Ares ever felt accepted in their company. His virile handsome face was way too flustered in anguish to be appreciated properly. His blazing red hair was as red as his emotion. Almost all of the gods resented him for his rash attitude. Zeus had candidly expressed his dislike of him. Athena did everything she could to oppose him. The only one who had wilfully been there for him was Aphrodite, but his bitterness led him to believe it was no more than passing fancy and temporary consolation from her boring husband. Ares didn't care the least about the trial, it's not like anyone would give a damn to a thing he said. Yet he had to be there for Zeus had commanded so; and what the Lord of the Sky wanted, that's exactly what he'd get.
Then there was Demeter, goddess of fertility. Her elderly, gentle face was full with motherly compassion. Her soul was one that nurtured. The trial made her gentle heart restless. Which poor soul was going to be victim of the wrath of the gods? That she would not wish to befall upon her worst enemies.
Soon, Poseidon, the mighty god of the sea, graced everyone with his presence. His physique was that of a mature man. His skin was tanned and his straw-blond hair smelled like the ocean. In his hand was his weapon and treasure, the trident. He loathed to be kept so far apart from his home under the sea, but he had to be there when duty called. He was curious as everyone about the case, but he wished nothing more than being able to return to his own realm where he felt most powerful. Being at mercy in the his brother's realm had always put Poseidon in uneasiness.
Not long, everyone's attention was distracted to the open gate of the assembly hall. Two brightly glowing figures gracefully entered. It was the Lord of the Sky himself and his always jealous wife, Hera, the goddess of marital bliss. Hera was all a woman wished to be; gentle, motherly affectionate, beautiful, and flawless. Yet her mere presence had always been intimidating and her cautiousness often led her to irritate her callers. Zeus himself was as mighty as ever. His mere presence brought the feeling of the presence of supreme power. His facial features were strikingly identical to Poseidon's. However, the sea god didn't look as much strained or stern as Zeus's. Poseidon, however anxious, still looked quite relaxed. However, strain, pressure, supreme power and fear of losing that power was the only things written in Zeus's face. Or had there been some thing more? Had there been something more like… sinister victory?
The gods who had been talking among themselves; either speculating about the trial or talking about how they wished they could return to where they were before; all were silenced at Zeus's presence. He needed not to do a single thing to get their full attention. Distracted as they may be, all gods were eager to start the trial as much as they were eager it was done in a flash.
"My fellow gods," Zeus spoke, "As we have known, we are here to hold a godly trial of a sinner who had crossed the rules we had held on to for centuries."
"What was this case exactly, brother?" asked Poseidon.
"First, let's invite the condemned we ought to judge in this trial," Zeus continued, "Bring him in!"
The Furies, the torturers that belonged to the Underworld, walked into the assembly hall. They were leading a chained figure covered thoroughly in black cloth.
"Expose him," Zeus commanded.
The black cloth was pulled down and formed a pool around the sinner's feet. Then, the figure's glorious body, yet covered in scars and blood, was bare to the gods' curiosity. All of them intently study his features and found themselves caught in surprise and horror. They saw black, silken hair wildly flowing to the floor, and though pale like a corpse, a face that was a spitting image of Zeus and Poseidon's.