Chapter Three:

Zeus's Trial

Content warning: Multiple mentions of sexual assault.

High in the mountains of the Basque region of Spain, two Gods hadn't quite gotten the memo about the alien invasion yet, having spent a lovely morning together deep inside their cave.

Basque goddess of fertility and agriculture Mari yawned and stretched as she wandered out to the cave's entrance, wrapping her light robe around herself as she took in the morning light, blinking slightly as she noticed a Greek youth with curly brown hair and freckles flying rapidly toward them as fast as he could, the wings on his sandals beating with everything they had.

Mari watched him approach with befuddled amusement for a moment. "Suggar, darling," she called back to her husband deep in the cave. "Were we expecting a letter from the Greeks?"

Speaking of the Greeks, Zeus and his daughter Athena lighted down at the doorstep of Hades, Zeus's brother and lord of the Underworld. "I'm still not sure I want to go through with this plan anyway," Zeus huffed.

"It is a wise plan, father," Athena said. "If the souls of humanity are kept safe down here, we'll be able to go all out in our battle against the aliens without doing undue harm ourselves. And then, when it's over, if we can get Hades to agree to the plan, we'll restore to life any killed since the invasion began."

"But what does it matter if we let them all die. I've wiped them all out before. So did Jesus's father, for that matter. Half of all the pantheons I know had a hand in that deluge. Why are we pretending humans are so important now?"

Athena gave her father that same patient smile she always gave him when he was in one of his moods. A patience few others ever had when dealing with him. Zeus recognized the smile, and part of him was half-tempted to smite her for patronizing him, but the other half couldn't bring himself to smite his little girl, not least because of her resemblance to another woman he had once known long ago.

"Let's just go along with it for now," she said. "At the very least, you'll get to star in another epic like the Titanomachy or the Iliad."

Zeus smiled. "Ah, the Titanomachy," he said, looking nostalgic. "Alright, let's get on with it. I just wish I didn't have to deal with my brother."

He and Athena put out their hands and the doors swung open wide. The pair walked into the great hall beyond, ignoring the large three-headed dog that barked at them as they entered, or the three vulture women with flaming whips who fluttered around in the rafters above. Zeus kept his full attention on the two thrones at the very end of the hall, where his brother and daughter sat hand in hand.

Zeus cleared his throat. "Hades," he said. "Kore."

The queen of the underworld narrowed her eyes. "My name is Persephone," she said. "I am only Kore to my mother."

Zeus shifted uncomfortably. "Of course," he said. "Persephone." He turned his attention to his brother. "I assume you received Hermes's message."

Hades tilted his head, his expression remaining unchanged. "I read it," he said.

"So, I assume you're going along with our plan?"

"Your plan to break the most fundamental laws of life and death, laws that I have painstakingly upheld for millenia, on your orders. You want me to take in billions of dead souls, just keep them here, mixed in with all the other dead souls, and then . . . let them all go back to their bodies after your little war up there is over?"

Zeus glanced at Athena, who maintained her stoic poise. Zeus did his best to match her. "Um, yes, that plan. More or less."

"You do remember that there is a reason we don't just let souls return to the Earth, right? There is a reason Orpheus was required to not look back, EVER, as he led Eurydice out. A reason we condemned Sisyphus to rolling a boulder up a hill forever. A reason we keep such a tight grip on the Doors of Death. We cannot just bend the laws of reality to our whims just like that."

Zeus shook his head. "Look," he said. "Take it up with the other Gods. For some reason, they all seem to care about Humanity. And . . . Athena said it was a good idea too."

He gave his daughter a pleading glance. Athena rolled her eyes and let out a breath from her nose. "Look, Uncle Hades," she said. "I know that this plan is risky and it could result in disastrous consequences for the fabric of reality. But I do believe it is Humanity's best chance for survival. And, with so many different Gods and Pantheons backing in, I believe the danger is greatly lessened compared to what it would be if it were only our Pantheon doing it. So I do recommend it as our best option."

Hades considered for a moment, turning his bident a couple of times in his hand. "I do see the wisdom myself, Athena," he said, in a much more civil tone than he had used with Zeus. "However," he said, getting up and walking down to stand face to face with Zeus. "You, my brother, have done enough damage to the inherent laws of the universe, that I'm still reluctant to go along with any plans proposed by you."

Zeus huffed, wanting to smite him where he stood for his insolent words, but he held his tongue. "What do you mean, damage I've done? I've done no damage to the—"

"Justice," Hades shouted. "Justice, my brother."

Zeus looked surprised. "What do you—"

Hades waved his hand and one wall turned transparent, showing the judgment seat where three kings of Greece, Zeus's children, all sat to judge the souls entering the underworld. "My job as lord of the dead, as assigned by you, was to arbitrate true justice. That means those that do harm to others are rightfully punished for their crimes, and those harmed by them receive the justice they deserve. Murderers go to the Fields of Punishment, the blood of their victims sated. Slavers and tyrants locked in chains, those they oppressed set free at last. Do you understand what I'm getting at?"

He turned, his fiery eyes piercing his brothers. "This fundamental law of the universe holds true for every single soul that has ever walked the Earth. Every single one. Except for you."

Zeus rubbed the back of his neck, knowing full well what was to come.

A very long scroll appeared in Hades's hand. "Let me see now. Should I start with the very long list of women raped by you. That alone requires a lot of justice in and of itself, but we can top it off with the pain and suffering each of those women and the children they bore for the rest of their lives, because your wife can't punish you, so she takes it out on them. Every single one of those women, every single one of their children, and a good majority of the husbands cuckolded by you are on this list."

Hades perused it for a moment. "Io, Callisto, Heracles, Semele, oh so many. And that's not to mention the people you murdered just because they said something to piss you off. Only about a third of that section is anything actually resembling blasphemy. And then there's soldiers you sent off to die in some senseless war, all the people you wiped out in your flood, oh, and all the evils unleashed by Pandora when you tricked her into doing so."

Zeus rubbed his arm.

"Of course, we have other gods like me, my wife, both of your wives, Poseidon, Apollo, Hephaestus, Demeter—"

"Okay," Athena said, cutting in. "We get it. Don't we, Father?"

Zeus nodded, not meeting his daughter's eye. "Yeah," he said. "We do."

Hades waved his hand and turned into a much smaller list. "My point, of course, being that every single one of these people deserve justice for the crimes committed against them. But not a single one has truly received it because . . . you're you. And I can't punish you."

Zeus shook his head, looking to the ceiling and watching as the three Furies circled above his head. It almost looked like they were drooling, one clenching its fiery whip hungrily.

"What do you want from me?"

"Well," Hades said. "While it would be nice if you could pay off your ledger, spend some time in Tartarus, I'm frankly not certain it's possible to wipe it all clean at this point. And time seems to be of the essence, so I offer a compromise."

He held out the paper. "Here is a list of eight of the most notable individuals here in my underworld that you have wronged. Find them, offer the most sincere apology you can give them, and if even one of them can find it in their heart to truly forgive you for the crimes you committed against them, then I will go along with your plan."

Zeus rolled his eyes. The whole proposal seemed like way too much work for a plan he wasn't even fully on board with yet, but it would have to do. He reached out his hand to grab the paper when Athena snatched it up first.

"I'll . . . hold on to it," she said quickly. She averted her eyes from her father and adjusted the paper. "Goddess of wisdom and knowledge. Handling papers and such, it's kinda my thing."

Zeus shook his head. "Alright," he said, turning to his brother. "We'll start with you. I'm—"

"I am not on the list, brother," Hades said. "You will never gain forgiveness from me, for you deserve none."

Zeus closed his eyes. Of course, his brother would try his patience. He turned to Persephone, still on her throne. "Dearest Persephone—"

"I am not on it either, father," Persephone said. "As disturbing as it is that your first instinct, when your socially awkward brother who has only ever interacted with the dead comes to you for dating advice, is to offer up your daughter to be kidnapped, I don't hold nearly enough ill will toward you. I will say that you are beyond lucky that I wanted to go with him, but then you just had to prove yourself spineless before my mother, trapping me in an endless cycle of spending six months of every year as her pampered little princess, even though I have been a grown married woman for literal millenia. Unless you can find me a pomegranate capable of getting me out of the arrangement, I suggest you look elsewhere."

Zeus winced. He was getting rather tired of putting up with impertinence when he was used to just smiting anything that dared show any. "Fine," he said. "Come, Athena. We'll deal with this list."

"One more caveat, brother," Hades called. "They have to give their forgiveness willingly. Smitings or threats of eternal damnation will get you nowhere."

Zeus and Athena found most on the list in Elysium, the resting place of the righteous dead, a paradisiacal garden of beauty and splendor worthy of their noble deeds in life. If they had been rewarded all of this, Zeus thought, he wasn't sure what they needed justice from him for.

Io was the first on the list, a woman he had tried to rape in the form of a cloud, only for Hera to catch him far earlier than normal. He had transformed Io into a cow to hide what he was doing, only for Hera to assume the cow was a gift for her, taking her and placing her in her sacred pasture. Several other mishaps occurred before Zeus was able to turn her back, resulting in years of suffering on Io's part.

She laughed in his face.

"No," she said, turning and slamming the door of her elegant mansion in his face.

Zeus's bubbling fury spilled over the top at this disrespect. "You dare to defy me, insolent mortal!" he said, his power blasting her door inward. "I can make you—"

"Ahem!" Athena said.

Zeus turned on his daughter, and she fixed him with that same stern no-nonsense stare that always seemed to work on him when nothing else would.

"Remember what Hades said, Father," she said.

Zeus clenched his fists, his fury wanting to keep building. He looked back at Io, who was crossing her arms, unfazed. He could so easily blast her into dust, or even force the words from her mouth, but he knew it was no good. He let his power dissipate and restored Io's mansion with a wave of his hand. "It was nice seeing you again, Io," he said.

"No, it wasn't," Io said as he left.

Next came Callisto, one of his daughter Artemis's hunters that he had assaulted, resulting in Artemis casting her out and transforming her into a bear for daring to break her oath of celibacy. Though now back in human form, Callisto had seemed positively bear-like as she promised to gut both he and Artemis if they ever dared to show their faces in her presence again.

Zeus lost his temper again at Semele, the mother of Dionysus, who he had once accidentally vaporized after she demanded to see his true form. This time, Semele simply stared him down, shrugging and saying "Eh, seen it all before."

Zeus got nowhere with Danae or Europa. Leda asked him if he had any idea what it was like to get raped by a swan before telling him to "get plucked." Alcmene, the mother of Heracles, might have been his worst encounter of the lot.

"Forgive you? Forgive you?" she shouted.

The Princess of Tiryns looked as beautiful as she had in life, and yet, even here in paradise, she had slight bags under her eyes and her hair was slightly frazzled. Zeus could hear in the background the sounds of children playing a video game somewhere in her mansion. That video game was God of War 3, a less than promising sound for Zeus.

Alcmene held up a finger shaking slightly with rage. "You turned yourself into my husband in order to sleep with me. After Heracles was born, neither he nor I ever knew a moment's peace because your wife had to punish someone. She possessed my son's mind and forced him to murder his own wife and children. My grandchildren."

Alcmene turned her head, listening to the children play for just a moment. "Do you have any idea what it was like to see those two children's mangled bodies, crushed to death by a man who was supposed to love them, all the while that man cries and holds them in the same hands that crushed them, begging them to wake up. He lived with that for the rest of his life. He put himself through years of torment trying to atone for it, when the only one who had anything to atone for was you!"

For the first time in this string of visits, Zeus found his fury failing him. Though he knew his normal reaction should have been to threaten to smite her for her accusation, her own fury seemed to have chased that instinct out of him.

Alcmene ran her fingers through her hair. She squinted, and Zeus could see the faint trace of tears welling in her eyes. "It's not even big things like that either," she said, her heartache still as raw in her voice as if it had all just happened yesterday. She looked back at Zeus. "I loved my husband, Zeus. I loved him with all of my heart. But even though I loved him, I could never fully love him again. Every single time we became intimate, there was a little doubt in the back of my mind, wondering if it was you again. And it was the same for him. Even though he knew I'd never meant to be unfaithful, your . . . actions sowed that little seed of doubt in his mind, and we were never the same again."

She swallowed, her eyes dark as she glared at him. "We were happy," she said. "Truly happy. But you, you who have never known true happiness in your life, you who are stuck in a loveless marriage with a woman every bit as heartless as you, you just had to come along and destroy it. Get out of my house! You will never have my forgiveness. Ever!"

Zeus looked down to see himself shaking. Her comment about never knowing true happiness had struck a nerve. A nerve he had striven for centuries to bury. He could only bring himself to mutter a weak "I'm sorry," before turning and stumbling out of her house.

"Are you alright, father?" Athena asked once on her front walk.

Zeus didn't answer her. He was fuming, sure clouds were swirling above his head somewhere up on Earth, but apparently that wasn't going to happen here. He clenched his fist again and again, wanting to summon his thunderbolt and smite this whole place to ashes. He was here on a mission. And Hades was just screwing him around and wasting his time. He wasn't . . . he wasn't supposed to feel these things. He'd spent his whole existence making sure he'd never have to. He was Zeus. The king of the gods. He didn't pay for his actions. Others did. He wasn't supposed to be punished.

Zeus lashed out in fury, throwing lightning at a pomegranate tree in the distance, blasting it into cinders. He breathed and watched it smolder for a few seconds, only for it to immediately repair itself. He rolled his eyes. Apparently, he couldn't even have a moment of gratification down here.

"Come on," he said, storming out of Alcmene's garden. "Who's next on the list?"

Athena scanned it, her eyes going wide for just a moment. She quickly stashed it away. "Um, no one, father," she said. "We got through the whole list."

Zeus stopped. "What do you mean, the whole list?" he said, turning to her. "Hades said there were eight."

"Did he?" Athena said. "I thought he said seven."

Zeus squinted at his daughter. "No. It was eight."

Athena looked away, not quite meeting his eyes. "I guess we've done eight." She counted on her fingers. "Io, Callisto, Semele, Danae, Europa, Leda, Alcmene. Eight."

Zeus couldn't help but notice that she'd quickly thrown up an extra finger in the middle of it all. "Athena," he said slowly. "Who was the last person on the list?"

Athena backed away from her father, her gray eyes shifting. "Oh, listen," she said, putting her hand to her ear. "A college student is praying for my help in a test. I'd better go."

She turned into an owl, only for Zeus to become an eagle and block her way. She teleported herself, only for Zeus to intercept her teleportation and bring them both to the foot of Hades's castle. She tried to turn into a tree, but Zeus put his hand on her shoulder and stopped the transformation.

"Athena, who's on the list?" he said.

Athena shook, her normal stoic resolve breaking. She swallowed and showed him the parchment. "Me."

Zeus stared. There, written in gold ink, was his daughter's name spelled out in ancient Greek. He looked back at Athena, and she looked away. "What?" he said. "But I never—"

He had to check back through his memory just to be sure he never did. "No, I never did . . . that. Did I?"

"Raping women wasn't your only crime, dad."

"Well, I know, but, the list was mostly—"

He shook his head. That wasn't the point. "Then what did I—?"

Athena looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there. Her eyes were wet, and her voice caught as she spoke. "You took my mother from me."

Zeus blinked. "Your mother?" he said. "But you came from my head. You didn't have—"

Athena fixed him with her piercing eyes. The same eyes as a woman Zeus had known long ago. The only woman Zeus had ever truly loved. "You and I both know that's not true."

Zeus swallowed. A single truth that he had forced himself not to accept for centuries, purely to avoid doing what accepting the knowledge would likely lead him to do. "You're Metis's daughter."

Athena turned away, walking out to a withered olive tree near the castle grounds. She caressed its branches and made it bear fruit once more. "I am."

Zeus looked down.

"You know what that means, don't you?" she said, looking back at him. "What I'm meant to do? The whole reason you ate her in the first place?"

Zeus swallowed, feeling a heavy lump in the pit of his stomach. "You are destined to slay me," he said. "Just like I did my father. And he did to his father before him."

Athena looked away. "I could do it, you know," she said. "Over the millenia, I have plotted out two hundred and fifty-seven different plans for overthrowing you, that I know would have worked. And five hundred and sixty-nine other plans that would have almost worked. And there are days, when I think of my mom, when I think of those women back there, when I think of everyone who has suffered by your hand, that I think . . . I should do it. For the good of the whole world, I should do it. It is the only logical . . . rational . . . wise course of action."

Zeus felt his volatile temper rising in him again. "Then why didn't you do it? If you hated me so much, then why not be rid of me?"

Athena looked back at him, tears streaming down her face. "Because I love you," she said.

Zeus's temper cooled instantly. "You . . . what?"

Athena ran her fingers through her hair and covered her face in frustration. "I know," she said. "It doesn't make sense. The rational and reasonable Goddess of Wisdom, putting off her divine destiny because of an irrational, frivolous emotion. One I have warred with Aphrodite over time and time again. But when I look at you, I don't see the tyrant, the rapist, the petulant manbaby that creates hurricanes every time someone slightly annoys him. I see my dad. I see the man who stayed his hand when he knew he had to devour me in order to save his own life. I see the scared young boy who spent most of his formative years hiding from a man who wanted to kill him for just existing, who trained until he was strong enough to kill that man and take back his rightful throne. I see a man who found true love only once in his life, but in a moment of weakness and paranoia, destroyed that love, and has spent every waking minute since desperately seeking even a shred of that love again, regardless of the lives he destroys in the process."

She sat down on a stone bench beside Zeus and put her face in her hands. "And then, in that moment of hesitation, my logical mind starts to find excuses to not go through with it. And I see myself. I see the woman who turned Arachne into a spider because she couldn't stand the notion someone was better than her. The woman who turned Medusa into a monster because she dared let herself be violated in my temple. The woman who helped start the Trojan War, because despite all her act of being above it all, she was just as vain and egotistical as Hera and Aphrodite ever were. And I realize, I'd just be trading out one tyrant for another."

Athena wiped her eyes. Zeus carefully sat down beside her, and she scooted over slightly. He remembered the day she sprang from his head, how close he'd come to eating her too. But then he saw her eyes, just like her mother's, and he just couldn't bring himself to do it again.

Athena sat up. "Do you know why I took my oath of celibacy?" she said.

"You weren't interested," Zeus said, remembering her plea at his throne.

Athena shook her head. "No," she said. "I said that was the reason. And it worked well enough. That was Hestia and Artemis's reasons. But the truth is, I have too much of you in me. Every day, I look back and I know, if I hadn't taken that oath, our history would be full of stories of me pretending to be some man's wife just to sleep with him, turning myself into a hawk to force myself on some young scholar, turning a curious young farm boy into a pig just to cover up my misdeeds from . . . whoever I'd have married."

Athena took a deep breath and sat up straight. "So I cut myself off from that completely," she said. "Stopped all of that before it even happened. But I still . . . feel it in me. Feel you in me. And I circle back around to hating you again. For making me this way."

Zeus looked down, his heart truly hurting to see the pain he had caused her. Part of him wanted to shove that away, like he always did, but he couldn't bring himself to do it this time. He reached with a tentative hand and rubbed her shoulder. "I am sorry," he said. "I'm sorry for who I am. And I'm sorry for passing that all on to you."

Athena was quiet for a moment, momentarily seeming like she wanted to move away from his touch, but instead she leaned toward him, resting her head on his shoulder like she had when he'd read her her first book just after she emerged from his head.

"I do forgive you, father," she said. She let out a dry laugh. "I can hardly condemn you, knowing full well that if we went and found Arachne or Medusa, wherever they are down here, I wouldn't have any better luck than you just had. But I do forgive you, even beyond that."

Zeus put his arm around his daughter, holding her gently, his soul hurting for the pain he'd caused her. Even now, he could feel his paranoia wanting to bubble, to strike her dead before she could have a chance to overthrow him, now that he'd acknowledged her parentage. He pushed that down as hard as he could. He wouldn't let himself give in again.

"So, it seems my requirements have been fulfilled."

Zeus and Athena turned to see Hades standing behind them. He waved his hand, and Athena's list appeared in his grasp. The paper spontaneously combusted, and, in seconds, it was gone.

Athena did her best to put back on her stoic face. "We've completed your task, Hades," she said. "Can we count on this underworld's help?"

Hades nodded. "Yes," he said. "I will take in the souls of Humanity, guard them with all my forces, and return to life all who would have lived if the invasion had never happened."

Zeus grunted. "Thank you, Hades," he said.

Hades nodded. "Thank you for trying to set your scales right."

Zeus looked away, ready to get back to his throne and drown his feelings in ambrosia, if only he had the time. "Let's go."

He and Athena flew away from Hades, ascending out of the underworld and back into the world of the living, where they could see the rampant destruction had worked its way down the Balkans and was now encroaching upon Athens.

"We're going to stop this," he promised Athena, who was watching the destruction of her city, yearning to go down there and stop it.

Athena nodded. "Let's get this done quickly."

"Hello!"

Zeus and Athena stopped and turned to see two gods flying toward them: The Basque Goddess Mari and her husband, a large serpent named Suggar.

"We got your message," Mari said. "Our forces are on their way."

"Thank you for coming," Athena shouted back.

"It's been a long time since we've knocked some heads together," Suggar said. "Hasn't it, honey?"

The woman and serpent rubbed their noses together, cooing at each other, and generally being that type of couple that made everyone around them sick. Zeus rolled his eyes and looked away, but also found himself remembering the early days of his own marriage to Metis, when they had been the exact same type of couple. He put his hand to his belly, where he'd stopped feeling her presence long ago. He'd never told anyone this, but he had attempted to cough her up a few times throughout the years, administering large doses of mustard powder just like he had to Kronos, but nothing had ever come up.

"Thank you for coming," he said. "Now, let get this done."

Sorry this one took so long. Considering the subject matter, I wanted to handle it as well as I could. Apologies if I failed to do so.