II.

Where the Game is Set

"This is exactly as we feared. Revealing ourselves to the mortals? This is what we've always striven to avoid."

"What do you expect us to do about it? We already lost our chance to act."

"Yes… Unfortunately, Hestia chose to tell them who we are, rather than to alter their perception as was what we had agreed on previously."

"Hardly is that my fault – Dionysus is the one with that power, and he was hardly conscious enough to be of any use."

"If you gotta problem Lady, just come out and say it."

"Enough. We have more important matters at hand than to fight over whose responsibility is whose."

"I don't see why the mortals knowing of us is such a terrible thing. They always used to – it'll be just like the good old days."

"Yes, why don't we use this to our advantage? With the population of this town under our thumbs, we can gain back our old strength!"

"Humans are not playthings, Ares."

"I humbly disagree, sister. Humans are nothing but playthings."

"Enough!" Fists slammed against a tabletop. "Something must be done! Before the mortals start trying to manipulate us for our powers."

"Well, what does Lord Zeus believe should be done?"

Silence.

"… Mortals are nothing but trouble, always have been."

Murmurs of agreement, cut short as a hand was raised. "However, they are but mortals. What consequence would it have on beings such as ourselves to use them for our own purpose?"

"Lord Zeus, please, reconsider-"

"Truly you can't mean…"

"Silence." – The disgruntled discussion halted – "I propose a game of old. If the mortals know of us, and it is too late to stop them, let us take advantage."

"I will have no part in this!"

"Then have no part, wife. Those who wish to leave the mortals to their own, you may. But otherwise, we shall again take up champions, and compete as we did in the days of our greatest strength."

Henry and Regina were still pouring over his book for some sign of the Author, which left Emma without a lot of time to spend with the kid. Aside from meeting him outside school and walking him to the Mayor's office, they barely got to see each other.

"Any luck so far, kid?"

"Not yet. But I'm sure we'll find something." It was one of those rare times Henry was starting to get frustrated. An abnormal state for such an upbeat kid, but the search for the Author was going on for much longer than anyone had been hoping.

"I believe in you. You'll find something eventually." Emma ruffled his hair as he stepped up to the door of city hall. "Let me know if you need anything."

"I will, mom. I'll see you later."

She watched him step in, then walked off down the street aimlessly. Now for the hardest part of her day – finding something to do between work and heading home. Since Storybrooke had gone so long without anything exciting happening, Emma was off work earlier, and the free time was making her antsy. She could go down to the library and pull Killian away from his research with Belle, which lately was what she usually did, but after the strange encounter yesterday, she wanted to think about it. She had no idea what these new-to-her citizens were up to, other than hiding in their weird apartment building. At work, she and David hadn't really spoken about it, today or after arriving back from their excursion yesterday afternoon, aside from an exchange, and an agreement not to tell anyone (particularly, Henry and Mary Margaret,) just yet.

Personally, she wasn't sure what to make of these gods. At all. First off, there were a lot of them, evidenced by the apartment listings that had been by the door. And not knowing at all who it was who called them at the station, or why. If mortals were something to be avoided, why were they summoned? The whole situation made her feel uneasy…

She stopped in her tracks as a strange tone shook her from her thoughts – it took her a moment to realise it was her phone receiving a text. Drawing it from her pocket, she read the invitation from her mom to join her and her brother at Granny's for a bit, if you aren't busy. Bitterly, she laughed at that. I'll be there in a moment, she sent in reply, before heading down the road toward the diner.

As always, when she arrived the restaurant was moderately busy. Everyone was in a great mood, of course, and ordering their sandwiches, coffees, and what-have-you for a late lunch. She spotted Mary Margret at the usual booth, her brother's bassinet tucked into the bench.

"Hey," Emma sat down across from the two of them, shrugging out of her jacket. "What's up?"

Her mom smiled back brightly, looking up from the menu in hand, still rocking Neal with her other. "Does something have to be up for me to want to see you?"

"Of course not. You having trouble deciding what to order?"

"No, actually, I was just wasting time while I was waiting for you." She raised her hand, and Ruby made her way over. "Can I get the vegetable soup Ruby?"

"'Course, Snow. Anything for you Emma?" She smiled mischievously. "Grilled cheese?"

Emma half-heartedly returned the grin, and nodded. "Please."

"Alright, let me know if you guys want anything else."

After Ruby walked off, Mary Margaret's happy face dropped slightly. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean, what's wrong? Nothing's wrong."

"You're an awful liar, Emma. You have that look." When Emma frowned, her mother gesturing vaguely at her own face. "You're hiding something, at least."

"Everything's fine, mom. Just work."

Mary Margaret's smile returned, though not fully. "If you say so."

The bell rang to signal someone new entering the diner. Killian made his way from the front of the building to the booth where Emma and her family sat, sliding in next to her. As always, he seemed to always walk into the diner exactly when someone he wanted to run into was there. Her mom's smile brightened in greeting. "Killian, how nice of you to join us."

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," he looked at Emma in particular, obviously noting her bitter expression the same way that Mary Margret had. "You look like you had a rough day."

"Something like that. How's the research going?"

He shrugged, though she could tell how frustrated he was. As much as her expression was giving herself away, his tense jaw was no better at hiding his feelings. "It's going slow, love, but we'll figure it out eventually."

"You know, you're the second person today to tell me that."

Ruby returned with their orders, setting down the plates, and giving Killian a look. "Anything for you, Hook?"

"Not at this moment, darling."

Ruby shrugged, smiling at Mary Margaret and Emma in turn before walking back over to the counter.

"So, what has you looking so miffed, Swan?"

"I wish everyone would stop asking me that. Nothing's the matter. I'm fine."

"Which sounds like something someone who wasn't fine would say," Mary Margaret mumbled into her soup, not looking up to catch Emma's glare.

Emma was about to say something in return when the bell rung again. Emma turned to see who it was, having a sinking feeling it would be someone else coming to ask her if she was okay. However, she had not expected to see the young woman from the front counter yesterday bee-lining toward her table. Emma turned back to the table, trying to ignore the girl, but in a moment she was stood over the booth, looming despite her short stature. Both Mary Margaret and Killian looked at the newcomer in confusion, while Emma stared bitterly at the cutlery set on the table. The woman glared at all three of the adults seated on the benches, though at Emma in particular.

"Your Highness, and, uhm," the young woman looked at Killian with an expression of mild disdain, "… Pirate. If I may speak to the Saviour for a moment."

Emma looked up briefly. "No, thanks."

Her mother looked to her, ignoring both the stranger's request and her daughter's curt reply. "Emma, who is this?"

"Someone who told me not to meddle in their affairs," she grumbled, locking eyes with the young woman.

"And yet, it would appear too late for that. Our affairs are officially meddled in, and now you and I have something to discuss."

"Wait one moment there, girl," Killian spat, "what sort of meddling are we dealing with here?"

"The sort with deadly consequences."

Mary Margaret released a heavy sigh, raising her hands to her temples in an expression that nearly screamed 'oh, Emma, not again'. "Of course it's 'deadly consequences'. What else could it be?"

The young woman stared pointedly at Emma, who stared right back. "A name would be nice, you know."

The woman's expression softened slightly. "Lady Persephone. You may call me Persephone." She cast a glance back to the other two patrons at the booth, and the tiny infant fast asleep in his bassinet. "Though I bear bad news, Saviour, I mean none of you harm. I mean only to warn you of what's to come."

"That's all well and good, love," Killian sighed, frustration apparent, though Emma couldn't tell who it was directed toward, "but I still have no bloody idea what is going on here."

"Which I will also explain. After I speak to the Saviour."

"Emma is fine." Emma stood, giving in finally. Killian allowed her to leave the booth, and Persephone led her to the exterior of the building through the front door. "Let's get this over with, then; what did I do this time, and how do I fix it?"

Persephone looked slightly taken aback, turning to look at her companion as they strolled down the main street. "You sound rather cynical."

"Comes with the territory; if you can't tell I've been through this situation a few times. So? What's the damage?"

Persephone clicked her tongue. "'The Damage' is a war between the Gods has begun, due to the interference of you and your father. And you have gotten your whole town wound up in it."

"Wait, wait, what do you mean, a war?" Emma's brow furrowed, and she stopped in her tracks. "A war-war? Or a 'war'?" She punctuated the latter with air quotes, which Persephone gave a peculiar look.

"Erm, more so 'war'," she mimicked the gesture, awkwardly raising her fingers, "than a literal war. But still, you and your family are now in grave danger, Sav - Emma. You must prepare to fight. I fear claims are already being made."

"Okay, claims – what do you mean by that?"

"Each god is to choose a champion, one of you," she pointed to Emma, "to fight for the glory of their patron. And whomever defeats all the other champions will be deemed the strongest. A title which Lord Zeus will not so easily relinquish."

Emma took a moment to consider this, and then came to a realization, looking back to Persephone wide-eyed. "Gold. Is that who Zeus is choosing for his champion? But he isn't in the town any more. He can't, can he?"

Persephone's expression darkened. "We gods do not live within the same confines as you mortals. Your barrier is nothing but a petty nuisance which we can bypass with ease. Lord Zeus will only pick the strongest champion, and so if that means returning the Dark One to Storybrooke, he will. You must defeat him, Emma."

"But how? Gold is way, way too powerful, I've tried to defeat him before you know. We thought keeping him out of the town, away from the magic, would be the solution…"

"I'm sorry, Emma, but I don't know how to help. Yet. In time I hope I can." Persephone crossed her arms defensively, looking at the taller woman with a deep determination burning in her eyes.

"Wait, so are you choosing me as a champion? What do we do?"

Persephone shook her head briskly. The two had reached a quiet stretch of the road, strange for the late afternoon downtown. The goddess had slowed her pace to a halt, still looking Emma in the eyes, though her expression had softened again, though Emma couldn't place what the girl's green eyes were trying to convey. "You have already been chosen. I am just here to assist you as I can." She gingerly touched Emma's forearm. "You have a friend in the spring. But I must go back to your mother, she must be warned of what's to come."

Emma watched as Persephone turned and hurried away, realising that the goddess' typically proud demeanor had shrunk, as though there was something she was afraid of ahead. Which was not a good sign, she realized. Swallowing her nerves, she turned slowly to face the road ahead again, and was relieved to see not a monster or other enemy, but instead another woman.

That was, until she met the woman's cold grey eyes and was hit with the sudden urge to cower.

The woman stood with what looked like a motorbike helmet tucked under her arm, though there was no vehicle parked nearby that could be seen, and wore a leather jacket not dissimilar to Emma's own, though in a shade of blue so deep it was nearly black. The woman's deep brown hair danced gently across her shoulders in a breeze Emma barely felt, and she would have been beautiful, if not for the stern look across her narrow features, and her piercing slate eyes.

"Let me guess," Emma said, more meekly than she intended, "you're another one of the Greeks?"

The woman smiled, though it lacked any hint of joy or humor. "Perceptive."

Emma couldn't tell if the woman's tone was sarcastic or not, but didn't dwell on it too long. The woman had already moved past it herself, stepping toward Emma and offering a hand that she was tentative to take.

"You may call me Lady Athena. You, Saviour, I wish to take as my champion."

Rumplestiltskin sat on the old couch in his son's apartment. Though it had been weeks since he had been banished from Storybrooke, he still felt as though he were intruding on someone else's life. Something he was never intended to be a part of.

He could feel himself getting weaker. The longer he was away from magic, the faster his long life caught up with him.

And then, there it was. Relief, like in a split second the room had filled with oxygen he hadn't realised he was without for so long, yet was so grateful to have again.

"That is potent magic you possess there, deary," he said dryly, turning to see a tall man he did not recognise stood in the center of the living room.

"Not magic," the man corrected in a gruff tone, like the rumble of thunder before a storm, "true immortality. But how would you like to return to your precious magic, hmm?"

Rumple smiled, teeth bearing in a sneer. "More than anything in this world."

"Then, perhaps we can strike up a deal."

A/N: Thanks so much for reading Hotel Olympia. I truly appreciate it! Sorry about the info-dump chapter, fortunately from this point forward, anything new should be dished out only in small doses.

I'd also like to apologise if I flip flop between American and English spellings of certain words without noticing; unfortunately that's a bad habit of mine. Hashtag just-Canadian-things. Again, thanks for reading! Any and all feedback is always appreciated!