Previously..
Then, Poseidon's voice breaks the quiet. "But for now, we enjoy the peace, my friends. We have much to celebrate."
Amphitrite nods, her eyes softening with a smile. "Indeed, we do."
I glance at Percy once more, silently wondering about the man standing beside me, the Champion of Atlantis, the son of Poseidon, and yet, so much more than just those titles.
And in that moment, as I settle into my own throne and the other gods take their places, I know that this—this unity, this shared understanding—is what makes us strong. Not the thrones we sit on, but the bonds we've forged through time and battle.
Chapter 5: Beneath the Waves
Artemis's POV
The grand dining hall of Poseidon's palace is nothing short of breathtaking. The ceiling—if one could even call it that—is a dome of translucent aquamarine, offering a stunning view of the ocean above. Schools of fish swim lazily overhead, their scales catching and reflecting the light from golden sconces lining the walls. The entire room seems alive, as if it were breathing with the tides, and the soft hum of magic saturates the air.
The table, an elongated crescent of shimmering pearl, dominates the room. Its surface glows faintly, like moonlight dancing on water. At its head sits Poseidon, his presence commanding yet relaxed, his trident propped casually against his seat. The rest of the Olympians are scattered along the table, their personalities reflected in their chosen seats. Zeus sits near the head, naturally, his stormy demeanor contrasting with the serene ambiance. Hera is beside him, poised and regal, her gaze sweeping over the gathering as if cataloging every detail.
I've chosen a seat further from the head, preferring the quieter end of the table. Percy sits to my left, his expression unreadable as he traces idle patterns on the table's surface with a finger. He's dressed simply, his usual armor replaced with a dark tunic embroidered with silver waves. Yet even in his simplicity, there's an unmistakable power about him, a quiet confidence that seems to ripple outward.
The murmur of conversation fills the air as platters of food are brought in by servants—merpeople whose tails shimmer in hues of blue and green. The dishes are a blend of terrestrial and marine delights: roasted venison, fresh fruits, and an array of seafood that would make any mortal chef weep with envy. I'm particularly drawn to a platter of steamed clams, their shells adorned with tiny pearls.
Poseidon clears his throat, and the room quiets almost instantly. His gaze sweeps over us, his eyes holding a glint of satisfaction. "Welcome, my friends, to Atlantis. Tonight, we feast in celebration of our unity and prepare for the challenges ahead. Let us set aside our burdens, if only for a while, and remember what it means to share in each other's company."
His words are met with a chorus of nods and murmurs of agreement. Goblets are raised, and the first toast of the evening is made. The wine flows freely, and for a time, the conversation shifts to lighter topics—the latest mortal inventions, humorous tales of nymphs and satyrs.
But beneath the surface, there's an undercurrent of tension. We all feel it, the looming threat of the war that has been whispered about in every corner of Olympus. It's a shadow that clings to us, no matter how brightly the coral chandeliers glow.
As the first course is cleared away, I catch Percy's eye. "You've been quiet," I remark, my voice low enough to remain between us.
He shrugs, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Just taking it all in. It's not every day you see the Olympians gathered like this without someone yelling."
I huff a laugh, conceding the point. "Enjoy the peace while it lasts. It won't."
He glances at me, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable. "It never does."
The second course arrives, a rich medley of flavors that fill the room with tantalizing aromas. As we eat, the conversation inevitably turns to the reason we're all here. Zeus is the first to speak, his tone sharp and commanding as ever.
"We've received whispers of Gaia's movements," he begins, his voice cutting through the hum of conversation. "The giants she's creating are unlike anything we've faced before. They are born to counter us, to overpower our domains. This war will not be won by strength alone."
Poseidon nods, his expression grave. "Which is why we're here. Atlantis will serve as our stronghold beneath the waves, a place where we can regroup and strategize. But it will take more than fortifications to win this war. We need unity."
"Unity is a fragile thing among gods," Hera interjects, her tone cold but not unkind. "Our histories are rife with betrayal and conflict. How can we trust that this alliance will hold when the pressure mounts?"
Percy speaks up, his voice steady and calm. "Because we don't have a choice. If we let our pride and grudges get in the way, we'll lose everything. Gaia doesn't care about our squabbles. She'll destroy us all, together or apart."
The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. Even Zeus seems to consider them, his thunderous expression softening slightly.
"He's right," Athena says, her voice measured. "Logic dictates that we must act as one. We need to pool our resources, our knowledge, and our power. Only then do we stand a chance."
Poseidon gestures to a large map that unfurls on the table, its surface depicting not only the mortal world but also the realms hidden from mortal eyes. "We've identified key locations where Gaia's forces are gathering. Some of these places are ancient, forgotten by mortals but still teeming with power. We'll need to secure them."
"And who will lead these missions?" Ares asks, his tone eager. "I've been itching for a fight."
"Patience, Ares," Artemis cuts in, her tone sharper than she intended. "Charging in blindly will only get us killed. We need strategy, not recklessness."
Percy raises a hand slightly, drawing the room's attention. "We'll need to divide into teams, playing to each god's strengths. Artemis and her Hunters can handle the forests and wilderness. Poseidon, your domain gives you control over the seas. And Zeus… well, I'm sure you'll want to take the skies."
A faint ripple of amusement runs through the room at his dry tone, but it's quickly replaced by nods of agreement. The plans are still vague, but they're forming, like the first currents of a storm gathering strength.
The atmosphere in the banquet hall shifted perceptibly as Poseidon leaned forward in his throne, his trident resting against the armrest. The earlier casual banter was replaced by an air of focus and determination. The soft murmurs of conversation faded as he spoke, his deep voice reverberating through the chamber like the rolling tide.
"We've all enjoyed the feast and the company," Poseidon began, his tone measured, "but it's time we discuss the storm brewing on the horizon. The giants are no longer a threat we can dismiss. Gaia's influence grows, and the balance of the world depends on how we act in the coming days."
Artemis shifted slightly in her seat, her sharp gaze scanning the faces around her. Some Olympians nodded solemnly, while others leaned back in their thrones, their expressions ranging from thoughtful to grim. Percy, seated beside Amphitrite, rested his elbows on the table, his hands clasped together as he listened intently.
"Do we have confirmed sightings of their movements?" Athena asked, breaking the silence. Her gray eyes gleamed with curiosity and caution. "The more information we have, the better we can plan."
Poseidon gestured to Triton, who stood near the base of the dais. The younger sea god stepped forward, holding a shimmering scroll. With a flick of his wrist, he unrolled it, revealing an intricate map of the known world, its surface animated with moving figures and rippling waves.
"We've tracked their activities," Triton explained. "Several minor gods and nymphs have reported unusual disturbances in key regions. Here—" he pointed to a glowing spot near the Mediterranean—"we've seen signs of massing forces. The waters here have become restless, and mortals speak of strange creatures lurking near their shores."
Hades, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, leaned forward, his dark gaze fixed on the map. "The underworld has felt Gaia's stirrings as well," he said, his voice low and grave. "Spirits that should remain dormant are restless. It's as though the very foundations of the earth are quaking."
A ripple of unease passed through the Olympians. Artemis exchanged a glance with Apollo, who sat to her left, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness.
"We need to decide on a course of action," Zeus declared, his authoritative tone cutting through the murmurs. "The longer we wait, the more power Gaia's forces will amass."
"And what do you propose, Father?" Hera asked, her tone sharp but not unkind. "A full assault? Or do we wait until they strike first?"
"A preemptive strike might be our best option," Ares interjected, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Catch them off guard before they can solidify their forces."
"And risk walking into a trap?" Artemis countered, her voice cool but firm. "Gaia is cunning. She would anticipate such a move. We need to be smarter than that."
Percy nodded in agreement. "We can't act recklessly," he said. "But we also can't afford to be passive. We need reconnaissance—scouting missions to gather more intelligence before we make any major moves."
Athena smiled approvingly. "Wise words. If we're to succeed, we must know our enemy better than they know us."
"And who would you suggest for such missions?" Demeter asked, her tone tinged with skepticism. "It's not as though we can send mortals to do the work of gods."
"That's where my Hunters come in," Artemis said, straightening in her seat. "They are skilled, disciplined, and accustomed to operating in the shadows. With the right guidance, they can gather the information we need."
"And I'll have my forces patrol the seas," Poseidon added. "If Gaia's forces try to use the ocean to their advantage, they'll find themselves sorely mistaken."
The discussion continued, each god offering their resources and expertise. Hephaestus promised to forge new weapons and armor for the impending battle, while Apollo offered to use his prophetic abilities to uncover any hidden threats.
"We'll need a united front," Poseidon said, his gaze sweeping the room. "This is not a fight any of us can win alone. We've seen what happens when we let our pride divide us. Let's not make that mistake again."
Zeus inclined his head, a rare show of agreement with his brother. "For once, I find myself in accord with you. The time for rivalries and grudges is over. From this moment forward, we stand as one."
The declaration was met with a chorus of agreement, though Artemis could see the lingering tension in the eyes of some of her siblings. Old wounds were not so easily healed, even in the face of a common enemy.
Still, as the gods began to lay out their plans in greater detail, she felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could weather the storm ahead.
The conversation around the table quiets as the final course is served—a stunning dessert crafted from ambrosial seafoam, pearls of nectar, and crystallized coral. The shimmering platter catches the light, casting a soft, iridescent glow across the faces of the gathered gods. For a brief moment, even the tension of war seems to dissipate, replaced by awe at Poseidon's hospitality and the artistry of his realm.
Artemis allows herself a small smile as she observes her family. Despite their differences and the looming threat, there is a strange comfort in this gathering. It makes her wonder of a time before war and chaos, when the Olympians were more than warriors and rulers—how they were a family, however dysfunctional.
Poseidon stands once more, lifting his chalice. The sea-green liquid inside swirls like a living tide, its surface reflecting the light of the bioluminescent globes overhead.
"My family," Poseidon begins, his voice steady but carrying the weight of millennia, "we are gathered here not only to discuss the challenges ahead but also to remember who we are and why we fight. Tonight is a reminder of our unity—a unity forged through trials, battles, and victories shared. And it is this unity that will carry us through the trials yet to come."
He raises his chalice higher, his gaze sweeping across the room. "To Olympus and to the survival of our world!"
The gods echo the toast, their voices blending into a harmonious chorus as they lift their own chalices. The moment feels ceremonial, almost sacred, and even Artemis finds herself caught in the gravity of it.
Percy, seated beside her, glances her way. "He's good at this," he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Artemis nods, though her mind is elsewhere. Poseidon's words, while stirring, have brought back the weight of their situation. The giants are already stirring, and Gaia's wrath is an ever-present shadow over their heads.
As the toasts conclude and the chalices are set down, Hestia, seated in her unassuming place at the corner of the table, clears her throat gently. Her presence, as always, exudes warmth and calm.
"If I may," she says softly, drawing the attention of the room, "I believe it is important, in moments such as these, to remind ourselves not only of our unity but of the roles we each play. Each of us brings something vital to this family and to the world we protect. Let us not lose sight of that, even as the shadows grow."
Her words are met with nods of agreement, and the mood shifts once more, this time toward quiet reflection.
Zeus, who has been unusually reserved throughout the evening, leans forward, his piercing gaze scanning the table. "The giants were made to oppose us. Each of them embodies a challenge tailored to our strengths, designed to be our undoing. We must be strategic in our approach. Rushing into battle without understanding their nature would be folly."
Athena inclines her head. "Agreed. Knowledge will be our greatest weapon. If we are to face them, we must know their strengths, their weaknesses, and the extent of their power. I propose we dedicate resources to gathering intelligence before taking any direct action."
Hermes, ever the pragmatist, speaks up. "Scouts can be sent to monitor activity on the mortal plane. There are signs Gaia's forces are already influencing the world—earthquakes, strange weather patterns, disappearances in remote regions. I've heard whispers, and I'm certain they are connected."
The discussion deepens as each god weighs in, their voices blending into a symphony of ideas, concerns, and strategies. Artemis listens intently, contributing where she feels necessary but otherwise observing. Her gaze occasionally flickers to Percy, who remains unusually silent. He is watching the conversation unfold with an expression that is both thoughtful and serious, his fingers lightly drumming on the edge of the table.
Finally, Hera speaks, her voice cutting through the din with regal authority. "This is all well and good, but let us not forget the role of leadership. The mortals will look to us for guidance and strength. We cannot falter in our resolve, nor can we afford to appear divided. Percy."
Her sudden shift in attention toward him catches the room off guard, and all eyes turn to the god. Percy straightens in his seat, meeting Hera's gaze without flinching.
"You hold a unique position among us," Hera continues. "As General of Olympus, your leadership will be critical. What do you say about this matter?"
Percy takes a moment before responding, his voice calm but firm. "I agree with Athena. Rushing in blind would be suicide. The giants aren't just big targets we can overpower with brute force—they were made to counter us, and that means we need to be smarter than they expect. If scouting and intelligence are the first steps, then that's where we start. But we also need to be ready to act quickly once we have the information we need. Gaia won't wait for us to make the first move."
The room falls silent as his words sink in. Even Zeus, who has often clashed with Percy in the past, seems to acknowledge the wisdom in his statement.
Poseidon nods approvingly. "Well said, Percy. The oceans stand ready to assist in any scouting efforts. My domain is vast, and nothing stirs beneath the waves without my knowledge. I will personally see to it that no threat comes from the seas."
As the conversation begins to wind down, Poseidon stands once more. "Let us adjourn for now. The details will be worked out in the coming days, but tonight, let us focus on the bonds that hold us together. War will come, but for now, we are still a family."
The gods rise from their seats, the tension easing as they begin to mingle and talk among themselves. The dining hall transforms into a space of quiet camaraderie, and Artemis finds herself standing near the edge of the room, watching the others.
Percy approaches her, his expression thoughtful. "What do you think?" he asks, his voice low enough to keep their conversation private.
"I think," she replies, meeting his gaze, "that this war will test us all in ways we can't yet imagine. But tonight, I was reminded of something important."
"And what's that?"
She allows herself a small smile. "That even gods need each other."
Percy nods, his expression softening. "Yeah. We do."
They stand in silence for a moment, the weight of the evening settling around them. The storm is coming, but for now, there is peace. And in that peace, there is strength.
The moon hung high in the sky, its silver light spilling across the tranquil waves of the Aegean Sea. Percy stood at the edge of the shoreline, the cool surf lapping at his bare feet. This stretch of beach, tucked away on a secluded island off the coast of Greece, was one of the few places where he could let his thoughts wander without fear of interruption. It was a sanctuary, a refuge from the ceaseless demands of his immortal duties.
He exhaled slowly, the salty breeze filling his lungs and carrying away the tension that had settled deep in his chest. The dinner in Atlantis had been a rare moment of unity among the Olympians, but it had also served as a stark reminder of the challenges ahead. The war against the giants loomed like a dark storm on the horizon, its weight pressing heavily on his mind.
Percy sat down in the sand, letting the grains sift through his fingers as he gazed out at the endless expanse of water. The sea had always been his domain, his solace, but tonight it felt different. It felt restless, as if it, too, sensed the upheaval that was coming.
His thoughts drifted back to the dinner, to the conversations and alliances forged around the grand table. Poseidon had spoken with conviction, rallying the sea deities to the cause. Artemis had been uncharacteristically engaged, her sharp mind contributing to the strategic discussions. Even Zeus, for all his bluster, had seemed willing to cooperate—at least for now. But Percy couldn't shake the feeling that their unity was fragile, a brittle shield against the overwhelming forces they would soon face.
"Why me?" he muttered, the words barely audible over the gentle crash of the waves.
It wasn't the first time he'd asked himself that question. As the General of Olympus, he bore a responsibility that felt too vast, too heavy for any one person to carry. He'd been born for this—literally crafted by the Fates to play a pivotal role in the gods' battles—but that knowledge didn't make it any easier. The weight of his titles—God of Balance, Champion of Atlantis, and countless others—was suffocating at times.
He leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows as he stared at the stars. They winked down at him, indifferent to the struggles of the gods and mortals below. "I didn't ask for any of this," he said softly. "I just wanted to protect the people I cared about."
A sudden splash pulled him from his thoughts. He sat up, scanning the water, and spotted a dolphin leaping playfully through the waves. It chittered at him, a sound that might have been laughter, and Percy couldn't help but smile. The sea creatures had always been a source of comfort, their presence a reminder that he wasn't entirely alone in this.
"Hey, buddy," he called out, his voice carrying over the water. The dolphin flipped in the air before disappearing beneath the surface, its playful energy lifting his spirits, if only for a moment.
He stood and brushed the sand from his hands, his gaze returning to the horizon. The moon's reflection stretched across the water like a shimmering pathway, and for a brief moment, he felt a flicker of hope. The sea was vast and unknowable, but it was also constant, a force that endured through time and turmoil. It was a reminder of his own resilience, of the strength he carried within him.
"Balance," he murmured, the word a mantra that anchored him. His domain wasn't just about maintaining equilibrium in the world; it was about finding it within himself. He'd been pulled in so many directions lately. But here, on this quiet beach, he could feel the pieces settling into place, however briefly.
As the first rays of dawn began to creep over the horizon, Percy took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. The war was coming, and with it, unimaginable challenges. But he'd faced the impossible before, and he'd do it again. Not because he had to, but because it was who he was.
He turned away from the sea and began the trek back to the small cabin he'd claimed on the island. The sand shifted beneath his feet, the wind carrying the scent of salt and the promise of a new day. And for the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself to believe that they might have a chance—that he might have a chance—to find balance amidst the chaos.
Short chapter, maybe.. But the next one's gonna be good ;D.
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