"Come on!"
Dionysus dragged at Zagreus's hand as the later tried his best to ogle at the marvels around him and keep up. Zagreus appeared to be about ten or eleven years old now by mortal standards, as in the past few days he had really shot up in height. Gangly, pale with piercing eyes, Zagreus stood out against the rest of the immortals who were for the most part elegant adults. Only Dionysus, son of Zeus, had the ability to allow youth into his features enough that he could be a boyhood friend to the little prince. Dionysus appeared to be about thirteen as he tugged at Zagreus's wrist again to get him to hurry.
They had escaped a rather awkward extended family dinner when Hera, seeing Dionysus attending the table, turned up her nose at this child of her husband's and dismissed them both. Zagreus received a stern look from his grandmother at the high table, but an imperial command was an imperial command. Any excuse to leave the complicated and dull talk of the adults far behind was welcome to him.
He was faster than Dionysus, but Zagreus kept stopping in his tracks to stare, his head darting around to drink in as much as he could. His cousin just grabbed him tighter and hauled him along corridors, used to the splendor all around him. Without the gods, who were all seated in attendance at dinner, many treasures that Zagreus usually wouldn't be allowed to touch were left in the care of servants and lesser beings. As Dionysus said, sometimes these things could be tricked into letting a prince take a moment with something that he definitely should not be touching. It was a prime opportunity.
There were a multitude of marvels on Olympus - Zagreus had barely scratched the surface of what he could find. Dionysus had his eyes set on one particular hall and set his shoulder into a door to force it open. As it swung wide Zagreus heard music – incredibly radiant music – breathe through the hallway.
When he could see inside, Zagreus could only really perceive a group of women. They might have been sisters, or at least looked like close relatives; all seemed to have a strange illumination about them that highlighted their limbs and especially their faces in gold. One was seated to one side, smiling indulgently when she noticed Dionysus walk into the room. Her hair was set back by a golden crown and she was entwining a scroll with some sort of thread in her lap. Another clapped her hands together as Dionysus approached, laughing at the prince as he bid her welcome, calling her Clio. Another woman, draped in the colours of Eros and Aphrodite, gave a shy grin and turned aside to whittle the arrow she was constructing.
But the music was issuing from the combined skill of the other women. One was playing a double flute, her face full of joy at the sound. The next was singing, although Zagreus saw she had the boots of the theatre on her feet. A woman in a long cloak was accompanying her also with her voice, lifting her serious face in song. Her sister beside her plucked at the lyre, her fingers moving with incredible skill and poise. The final two played percussions instruments and although one of them seemed to have her face turned towards the sky in thought, she never missed a beat.
Zagreus could only stare and let the sound wash over him. Dionysus extracted himself from the embrace of one of the women to explain.
"The Muses!" he gushed, watching with glee as comprehension dawned on Zagreus's face. "Worshipped by the gods and mortals alike! Aren't they incredible?"
"The Muses?" Zagreus gave a short half-bow and titled his head to Clio. "Amazing."
"I can see you haven't really heard of us, little son of Hades," Clio admonished but her answering smile was so lovely he didn't really think he was in trouble.
"They're making me a lyre!" Dionysus told him, taking Clio's delicate hand as though they were old friends. "Is it ready?"
"Almost, little cousin," she told him. "Where will you take your music?"
Dionysus had a wild kind of delight in his eyes at the question which Zagreus had to admit he didn't really like. Dionysus could get carried away and had an awful temper when crossed.
But there was no one as free, as electric and full of plans of adventure on Mount Olympus.
"All over the mortal realm," said Dionysus, with barely repressed glee. "There will be feasting and dancing every night, with the sweetest fruit of the vine and only the best music next to yours. I can't wait!" Dionysus gave a small bow of appreciation and grabbed Zagreus's shoulder. "You'll come with me, won't you? To the mortal realm?"
Zagreus hadn't thought about it. The Muses and Dionysus watched him hesitate.
Without missing a note, the Muse on the lyre shrugged and addressed the princes.
"Tread lightly if you go below. The mortals are more fragile creatures than those here on the mountain of the gods." She appeared a little sad about that fact, and the key of her playing turned mournful.
Zagreus knew only of shades and immortals. Suddenly the curiosity was like a hunger, to see a real mortal face to face and examine them up close.
Zagreus decided. "I want to visit the lands below." This earnt him a joyful clap on the shoulder from Dionysus.
"As soon as my lyre is completed, we'll go together," Dionysus grinned. "I've been many times. I can show you around."
Suddenly their ambitions of seizing many of the gods' tools while they were dining seemed dull compared to their aspirations and the possibilities the land of mortals offered.
"Please ladies," Dionysus begged. "Will you sing of heroes and man for my cousin here? So he knows the stories before we go together?"
The Muses halted. Silence was only fleeting however, as Clio's eyes glowed with a sort of fire, the kind that only comes with great joy at being asked to exhibit their gift for the world to see.
"With greatest pleasure!"
Thalia clapped her hands once, and the room went dark. She clapped again and Zagreus felt it in his chest, reverberating. He sat, eyes huge, just waiting. Dionysus dropped into place beside him.
The nine women formed a semi-circle, hands outstretched towards the sky, continuing the beat. Thud. The sound echoed out – pure and strong. Thud. They added stomps of their feet and Zagreus's heart began to race. Here was magic!
They began to tell fantastic stories, set to the tone of exquisite music. Euterpe began with the origins of an, the punishment of Prometheus and how Zeus had tested the humans by visiting in the black of night with Hermes. They spun epics about heroes of old – the Argonauts and Hercules. But they spoke too of the Trojan War - the tragedy of Achilles, the seduction of Helen, the voyage of Odysseus trying with all his might to make it home. In and out the gods wove from their stories, but it was the mortals that took centre stage in their telling. Over and over they fought animals, braved tests, defied their fate and scorned the power of the Olympians to their peril.
When they ran out of stories, Zagreus and Dionysus broke into whoops and claps.
"I simply have to go!" Zagreus groaned after he and Dionysus had thanked the Muses for their show of skill. The two princes left the room together and huddled in conspiracy.
"Very soon my lyre will be completed," Dionysus assured him. "Then I will make sure to call in a favour from Hermes and we can go to the mortal realm as we please."
Zagreus dreamt that night of a spot on a hill, deep within the woods of the land of mortals. He pictured revelry and song, the likes of which he'd never seen. Everything on Mount Olympus was incredible but what the Muses spoke of was rawer and truer than the proper and self-assured extravagance of the gods. There was something fascinating about things that strived and died, reaching upwards with all their meagre strength, never quite reaching the heights of the gods and goddesses but trying all the same.
He remembered his mother had lived with mortals and when he woke, he proceeded to quiz his grandmother about it. Demeter was patient, and she was not ignorant of her grandson's longing to see such strange things for himself.
"You could come with me to one of my temples," she suggested, when he had nearly exhausted her with all of his specific enquiries. "I will be descending to monitor the crops and bring about the barely festival very soon."
Zagreus tried to keep his face blank. Boring festivals and viewing fields was not the kind of trip he had in mind. Courteous, he thanked her for the offer and said he would think about it but resolved that he and Dionysus should sneak away. She hadn't forbidden him from going – that was what he would cling to if it turned out he needed to ask forgiveness after their trip away.
"You are powerful," Demeter commented, and Zagreus only caught some of what she said as she walked off to see to the gardens. "… you could probably travel there at a whim soon."
There was an idea. Zagreus hadn't focused too much on his growing powers, not really having a direction to focus them in yet. His sword skills, his riding and his agility in armour were coming along; his few lessons with his mother before she left had shown him that he needed willpower to direct the flow of ichor in his veins to something productive. But he was still little, and his whims changed minute to minute. He wondered if he could transport himself if he truly wanted to, with all his heart.
When Demeter went outside, Zagreus retreated into his room. Alone, he shut his eyes. He tried to picture the hill in his dreams, the women playing and dancing, the men laughing and clapping in time. It had been night – full of stars and Selene watching with an expression of sweet indulgence high above. He screwed up his eyes and let the desire to be there fill him up until he thought his heart would burst. He held his breath and felt the air change. His bed disappeared from underneath him. The temperature went from humid to sweet and cool.
Zagreus opened his eyes slowly.
He sat in long grasses, in the middle of the night. Woods pressed in from behind him and ahead, he spotted a fire glowing strong. There were excited voices and if he strained his hearing, there was music. It was nowhere near the quality and richness of the Muses but still, there was a flute raised in song.
Zagreus could have cheered, he'd done it! Scrambling to his feet, he realized his tunic was coated in dirt and leaves. That never happened on Mount Olympus. He patted away the mess with a kind of awe, watching the grass stick to his sandals and the dark earth smear across his palm. He just laughed and pictured Hera's face if he were to return coated in the muck of Zeus's realm.
Still laughing quietly to himself, he made his way slowly up the hill to get closer to the voices and hopefully, to meet his first real mortals.