My Life as Athena

By

Daphne Ignatius

A day can press down all human things, and a day can raise them up again. But the gods embrace men of sense, and abhor the evil – Athena to Odysseus

My Life as Athena

Copyright © 2014 Daphne Ignatius

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopies, recording, taping, or by an information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. No offence was intended for the various religions and/or deities discussed in this book.

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Concertia Press

P.O. Box 697

Roswell GA, 30076

For my father K.A. Ignatius,

who taught me to love books at an early age

And

For my mother Elsie Ignatius,

who taught me the value of independence and self-reliance

Table of Contents

Prologue

The True Beginning

The Family

The War of the Giants

Typhon

Maiden Goddess

Pallas

The Underworld

The First Woman

Persephone

My Inventions

Athens

Ascension

Changes

Love

Consequences

Erichthonius

Hephaestus

A Favor

The Age of Heroes

Isis

Troy

A New World

Valhalla

Expansion

Alexander

Decision

Conquered

Roman Goddess

A New Religion

Opening Gambit

Interlude

End Game

Aftermath

How to Help the Author

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Prologue

197 BC

I stood in my chariot on the hill of Cynoscephalae, facing down the Roman army ranging out in front of me. Around me massed a combined army of Macedonian and Greek warriors, twenty-five thousand strong. Directly behind me rattled the famed charioteers of Greece as they moved into position, eager to do battle to protect their homeland.

What are we doing here, you ask? Shouldn’t you start your tale at the beginning? My answer to you is that this is a beginning. The beginning of my end. This is the moment of my greatest shame: the moment I started to realize my family might not be good for the people who worshipped us.

Catching the excitement in the air, my creamy white horses snorted and stamped their hooves, tossing their silken manes, eager to get moving. I stood, arrayed in my finest armor, helm on my head, preparing to inspire and lead the men behind me. On my distant left, my half-brother Ares was doing the same with the Macedonian phalanxes that he would lead into battle. Standing past Ares was his wife Enyo, leading the light auxiliary and poised to dart out invisibly into the Roman ranks.

The three of us had fought together for a thousand years, and our skills combined to make us a formidable team. Strategy and tactics were what I brought to the table. Ares’ strength was the ability to inspire courage and battle lust in the warriors around him. Enyo’s ability was to sow panic and discord among the enemy’s troops, demoralizing them into easy pickings. This was a winning combination that we had executed successfully many times before, facing the Persians and the Gauls. These Romans, these descendants of Aeneas the Trojan, were just one more in a long line of would-be invaders.

The sun broached the horizon on my right. It was time to unveil myself. Normally, Ares, Enyo, and I were invisible to mortal eyes, but in order to inspire and comfort the vast army behind us, we had to communicate that we were here. As the pale morning light touched me, I started to unveil. Just a touch, just a little sparkle to outline a shadowy presence. The sunlight flashed off the silver helm that I wore, the sharp blade of the long spear that I held in my right hand, and the edges of the engraved shield braced on my left arm. A flurry of murmurs broke out behind me. I smiled involuntarily before remembering that I needed to be Athena, the stern and dignified Goddess of Wisdom and War.

The sun rose over the horizon, flooding the plain ahead of us with light. Cheers broke out behind me and behind Ares as we came more clearly into view. Only we immortals noticed a lithe figure floating down from the heavens towards Ares—Hermes, my father’s personal messenger. I stood for a moment before slowly veiling myself again. One glimpse of divine protection was often enough to charge up our men’s hearts and give them the faith that they would be victorious in this conflict.

Once I had faded fully from mortal eyes, I thrust my spear into the holder by my side and pulled off my helm. My heavy, golden braid fell from the helm and tumbled down my back. Before battle, I would tuck it down the back of my tunic to secure it. But first, I had to get out of the ornate armor that I had worn especially for the men. I unsnapped the buckles at my side and lifted my breastplate over my head. It was beautiful and impressive, but far too cumbersome for what I was about to do. I preferred to fight light and fast, unencumbered by armor that would jab into me at inconvenient times. Beneath the breastplate, I wore my gold aegis wrapped tight around my chest. Lovely in its own right, my aegis was just as impenetrable as the breastplate, without all the weight.

My task would be to lead the first charge, softening up the Roman infantry for Ares. Unfortunately, the Romans had a similar chariot brigade on their side and they would be trying to do the exact same thing. I needed to move faster than the enemy and do as much damage as possible to their infantry, before turning to deal with their charioteers.

Hermes landed beside my chariot as I tied the ends of the reins to the silver girdle around my waist, to ensure that I wouldn’t lose them once I was in the thick of things.

“Lady Athena, I bring word from your father! Zeus has commanded that you and your siblings retire from the battle immediately!”

“What?” I barked as I lifted my eyes from the knot at my waist. “That makes absolutely no sense! We can’t abandon our people. This would be a betrayal of their faith in us!”

“Nevertheless, those are your orders,” he replied. “You are to return to Olympus immediately. Ares is telling Enyo as we speak.”

I looked past Hermes. Indeed, Ares had left his post and was talking to his wife on the far side of the army. I stood back on my heels, flabbergasted. As God and Goddess of War, we were duty-bound to support our people in times of battle. And yet, we were being ordered to abandon them by our father Zeus, King of the Gods—the father I loved and loathed in equal measure.

I stood poised in the chariot, staring at Ares in the distance. With my excellent sight, it was not hard to see his dark expression as he conversed with Enyo. Ares, with his single-minded focus on honor and glory, would be much offended by this order. As if feeling my eyes on him, Ares swung his sculptured head to look back at me, his gaze flat and angry. This was dishonorable, yet we had no choice but to obey our father. I had felt Zeus’s thunderbolt once in my life and I had no desire to experience it again.

Sickened, I nodded to Ares and turned back to my horses, my gaze skipping over Hermes as if he didn’t exist. Gritting my teeth, I unknotted the reins from my girdle and snapped them. The team stepped forward, leaving Hermes behind. My horses picked up speed and then took off into the air, whipping my chariot skyward.

I heard the horns blow at ground level. Glancing down over my shoulder, I saw both the Greek and Roman chariot brigades roll forward, picking up speed. I didn’t watch as the descendants of Aeneas began to take their vengeance, in payment for the destruction of Troy a thousand years before.

The True Beginning

3000 Years Earlier

The first thing I remember was being wrapped in a cocoon of love. It was a reddish cocoon with gold flashes, and came with the resonant voice of my mother, Metis. She whispered to me through the long stages of my gestation, telling me of her life and her hopes for me as my limbs grew and my brain developed. As I grew, she diminished and grew transparent, until I could see right through her, to the darkness of my father’s body. I was cocooned twice, you see. Inside her and inside my father: Zeus, King of the Gods.

Metis was one of the Titans, the original deities of the Greek peninsula. They were eventually overthrown by the Olympians, their descendants, and by my father in particular. Oddly enough, my mother didn’t hold that against Zeus. She chose to lie with him and helped him overthrow the Titan Kronos, who was both Zeus’s father and her uncle. You’re getting the idea now. Familial relationships mean nothing in the Greek pantheon. It was literally eat or be eaten. Kronus swallowed his children. Zeus got him to throw them all back up again with Metis’s help, and then Zeus swallowed Metis.

“It was prophesied that I would bear children of extraordinary power and intelligence who would eventually eclipse Zeus himself,” my mother whispered to me as she cradled me within her. “He grew jealous, unable to bear the thought of being overthrown, as he had overthrown his father. He brooded on it. Then one day, he challenged me to a shape-changing contest. Laughing, we morphed into all kinds of fantastical creatures, great and small. Eventually, I changed into a fly and it was at that point that he leapt upon me and swallowed me whole.”

My mother’s voice grew bitter. “I was the Titan Goddess of Wisdom, and I was bested by a suspicious oaf. But I will have my vengeance. Zeus underestimates females. He believes that only another god can be a threat and that, my daughter, will be your greatest advantage. I say this to you: You will be the one to eclipse him, not some imaginary son. So be careful with Zeus,” she cautioned. “Do not ever trust him. Remember that he betrayed his own father and me. He will not hesitate to destroy you if he suspects you to be a threat. You will need time to grow into your power, so play the dutiful daughter and win his affection. If things become difficult, act! Go to my grandmother, Gaia. She detests Zeus, and will aid you for love of me and your Titan blood. She will shield you from Zeus and the other Olympians, if need be.”

I stirred within her, stretching my limbs but unable to answer her. Pulses of energy flared and flowed into me from my mother. I felt myself expand, greedily absorbing all that she had to give.

“Your name will be Athena, and you will take my place as Goddess of Wisdom.” Her voice strengthened. “I bequeath you my divinity, my cunning, and my power.” Her voice grew to a roar, shaking my world. A short white chiton formed on my naked body. Silver sandals materialized and bound themselves to my feet.

“I also bequeath you these mystical weapons that I have created. Use them to protect yourself and defeat your foes.” A helm clamped down on my head, restricting my vision, and a silver breastplate formed on my chest. “Fight your battles with your head, not your heart, and have no mercy on those who challenge you.” A kilt of studded leather wrapped itself around my hips and tightened, protecting me from waist to knee. An engraved sword appeared in one hand and a spear in my other. Things were moving quickly, but I felt no fear. I tightened my grip on my sword.

“There is nothing more that I can do for you except to fade, so that you may break free. Now, GO!”

There was a blinding flash as my mother’s being contracted into me, giving me her final bequest of power. When I recovered, I was in darkness, alone, with my mother’s power seething within me. For the first time in my short life, there was no maternal voice, no divine guidance. Shifting my grip on my spear, I stabbed at the dark walls of my prison repeatedly. How long I did this, I know not. But eventually, a gash of light appeared above me.

Taking my chance, I leapt up and grabbed hold of the edges of the gash, ripping it apart with all my strength. Crawling out into brilliant white light, I leapt out and away, weapons in hand. As I travelled, I felt my body expand, unconstrained at last.

I hit soft green grass and rolled to my feet, still growing in size. I slowly opened my eyes, letting them adjust after an age in darkness. The first thing I saw was a pair of concerned golden eyes set in a broad yet gentle face. Behind him was a gory mess of a giant, who was pressing together the two halves of his head. Even as I watched, the two halves began to merge. A recognizable mouth set in a dense beard appeared, then a nose and two eyes. A moment later, my blood-spattered father, Zeus, regarded me in disbelief. He got to his feet, showers of rubies falling from his robes as his blood transformed into precious gems. The two gods glanced at each other. When my father looked back at me, I saw the deep distrust in his eyes.

“I am Athena, Goddess of Wisdom.” I heard my own voice for the first time, strong and resonant. My mother’s bequest of cunning came to my aid. “And daughter of Zeus,” I added boldly. I dropped to one knee in front of Zeus and laid my weapons crossed at his feet. Lifting my head, I looked up at his face and watched in satisfaction as the wariness in my father’s eyes cleared.

The Family

Zeus, not exactly an involved parent in either legend or reality, delivered me to his queen Hera to be looked after. It was early in Earth’s lifetime and so there were only a few gods on Olympus, and those in existence were still fairly young. Zeus himself was a burly man, dressed in royal purple robes, with solid gold armbands clamped around his muscular upper arms. His long hair and thick beard were a deep black.

Hera was a regal beauty, dressed in emerald green to match her eyes, with rich auburn hair piled behind the gold diadem on her head. Hephaestus, who had helped release me from Zeus’s head, was on the other end of the spectrum. He was a well-built man, less handsome than the other gods, but still attractive by any other standard. He was dressed simply in a belted black knee-length chiton and wore engraved wristbands, the hallmark of an artisan.

So there I was, finally out of my prison, standing on real ground on what felt like a bright spring morning. I have seen Olympus portrayed as a misty, white marble temple with gods and goddesses wafting around in white robes. The reality was completely different. Hera’s villa was open and airy, populated with a seemingly never-ending supply of handmaidens dressed in bright colors. Their giggles and voices strained my nerves, unused as I was to sound from my long imprisonment. Goddess or not, I was rapidly becoming overwhelmed. Sharp-eyed Hera noticed my dazed look and swiftly guided me to a quiet room to “rest.” She then withdrew to get an explanation from the others.

When Hera returned, she found me regarding myself in a full-length bronze mirror propped in a corner of the chamber. I had shed my armor, the better to see myself. The ornate bronze mirror reflected an imperfect image, lending everything a golden haze, but it did show a slender young woman, dressed in a simple knee-length chiton with honey-colored hair tumbling loose down her back. My face was fine-boned but handsome, rather than beautiful. I squinted at the mirror, trying to see the color of my eyes, with no luck. The best that I could ascertain was that they were some kind of dark color.

When I saw Hera’s image in the mirror behind mine, I turned to face her and inclined my head respectfully, but as one goddess to another. Her lips thinned, but she did not react otherwise.

“Athena,” said Hera in a low, rich voice. “I am your stepmother. Your father has just related the tale of your birth. He claims that you were born from his head and not of a goddess.” She made an incredulous face. “It’s hard to credit, but my son Hephaestus confirmed it…” This gave me information that I filed away: So my father did not know of Metis’s part in my creation, or had chosen to deny it. So be it. My mother’s caution to keep him unsuspecting came to mind.

“That is correct, stepmother,” I responded, choosing my words carefully. “I have been growing within Zeus and was released today by Hephaestus, I believe. It is good to be out in the world at last.” She nodded and then sat on the edge of the bed, gesturing for me to join her.

“So you have been in there for some time?” I nodded. “What did you hear?”

“Nothing,” I responded innocently. “All was dark and silent. All this,” I gestured around me, “is new and wondrous to me.”

“You did not hear your father’s voice or perhaps other voices?” she pressed, looking at me intently. Clearly she was concerned about something that I might have overheard. Unfortunately for me, I truly hadn’t heard anything but my mother’s voice.

“None, Majesty,” I replied truthfully.

Hera made a graceful motion with her hands. “Call me Hera. You are part of our family, after all.” She leant forward, putting her hand over mine in a maternal fashion. “You must be overwhelmed, so I hope you will allow me to help you.”

Surprisingly, I had to force back a sudden rush of hot tears. I had not known what to expect from her, but compassion had to be at the bottom of the list. Yet, something within me warned against trusting Hera. Not yet, at least. But it had already become obvious to me that I was woefully unprepared for this world. Despite my bold declaration to my father, I was too clueless to be the goddess of anything.

“Thank you, Hera.”

I settled into my new life as a young Olympian with difficulty. After being alone for so long, the sheer number of people around me was overwhelming. Hera’s handmaidens surrounded me constantly, all trying to be helpful, but inadvertently stressing me. And the sounds: Birds, voices, singing. It was nonstop. If I could have crawled back into Zeus’s head, I actually might have. Instead, I forced myself to endure and adapt.

Hera took her role as stepmother seriously. She made sure to introduce me to the others on Olympus. Hephaestus of the golden eyes, I had already met. Ares, eldest son of Zeus and Hera, was next. Aphrodite, Hestia, Poseidon, Demeter and her daughter Persephone. Hermes the messenger. As I write this, I realize that the list really isn’t that long, but it felt like it at that time.

Hera and her youngest sister Hestia took charge of my education. As Goddess of the Hearth, Hestia was an expert in the feminine arts. I found myself closeted with her in the mornings, learning how to weave, sing, organize, and order the servants about. The weaving and singing weren’t bad because there was actually some creativity involved, but I seriously didn’t see how any of it was going to benefit the Goddess of Wisdom and War. Still, I knew better than to antagonize anybody, so I gritted my teeth and bore it as long as I could.

In the evenings, Hera tested me on the basic skills that all immortals were born with: Travelling by thought, cloaking myself from mortal sight, and drawing energy from the living creatures around me. She then moved on to the skills that I should have inherited from my father. Transforming my physical body into alternate shapes came naturally to me. However, I couldn’t create a thunderbolt to save my life. The best I could do was to create a weak fireball that was only good for casting light. I was very disappointed about the thunderbolt but I kept attempting it, just in case it came with age.

In secret, I also practiced the talents that I had inherited from Metis: the power of shielding, a difficult skill allowing me to hide myself from the gaze of other immortals, and her power of understanding, which allowed me to comprehend the language of birds and animals and, eventually, that of humans.

The afternoons were mine to do with as I wished, and I chose to explore. Olympus was a wonder, mirroring the Earth below and frozen in time at the peak of springtime. I wondered at the trees with their pale green leaves, the babbling brooks, and the colorful birds that darted overhead as they built never-ending nests. Golden sunshine brightened everything, except when the occasional rain shower occurred, perfuming the rain with the scent of grass. The villas of the gods were dotted here and there according to their preference, each with extensive gardens and a central, open-air courtyard in which to sit and enjoy the fragrance of the blooming trees.

I found Hephaestus’s forge on one of my wanderings. Or rather, I heard it first. The sound of the bellows drew me closer. Set close to the edge of Olympus and protected by a berm of bare earth so that fire could not get loose, it looked rough and functional, unusual in this land of flawless beauty. Black smoke issued from the large chimney set on the top of the roof. Even from a distance, the glow of the furnace was apparent.

I snuck to the door to glance in. Hephaestus stood with his back to me, working the bellow to heat up the forge. Undecided on whether to stay and watch or sneak away unseen, I paused, but curiosity got the better of me and I cleared my throat loudly.

Hephaestus glanced over his shoulder. “Ah Athena. Well met. Did you have a commission for me?”

“No, I just heard the bellows and was curious,” I said, not quite sure what a commission was, exactly.

“Oh, just heating up the furnace. I was about to forge a new short sword for Ares.” Hephaestus turned back to the bellows. “Want to watch?”

“Absolutely!”

I actually wound up helping him make the sword, his hand supporting mine as I poured the liquid bronze into a wooden mold, then quickly slapped the other half of the mold on and bound it together with leather strips.

The sword still needed work when it came out of the mold and needed to be reheated and pounded repeatedly, tempering it until it was fit for use. I didn’t do the best job with the hammer, as my shoulder muscles simply did not have the necessary strength for the job, but what I lacked in skill I made up for in exuberance.

Once the sword was doused in a barrel of water and laid on a rack to dry, Hephaestus grinned at me and nodded at the sword drying on the rack. “That one is for you, I think. I’ll make Ares another.” It was probably a kindness to Ares because of my inexperience, but I had lacked a practice sword and now had one. Delighted, I thanked him profusely. He sent me outside to sharpen the blade on his grindstone while he searched his workshop for a suitable hilt and sheath. Neither were particularly fancy, but would serve the purpose.

Running home, sword and sheath in tow, I arrived sweaty, disheveled, and streaked with soot, but almost drunk with joy. Thankfully, Hera was nowhere to be seen, but the handmaidens took one horrified look at me and ran to draw me a bath. I sank gratefully into the warm water, relaxing as it loosened my abused muscles. The single-minded focus of making an object with my own hands had helped me lock out the distractions and the world for a time, and allowed me the solitude that my soul required. Even the chatter of the maidens around me didn’t annoy me as it usually did. I closed my eyes and sank under the surface of the water, finally at peace with myself and my new life.

The War of the Giants

One morning, I awoke to loud voices echoing from outside my bedchamber. Pulling a short chiton over my head, I went out to see what was happening. I found Zeus, Hera, and Ares arguing loudly.

“I need you to escort all the goddesses to Rhodes until I take care of Typhon,” said Zeus to Ares. “I look to you and Helios to keep them safe.”

“Helios can do that on his own,” said Ares. “Let me help, Father.”

Zeus patted Ares shoulder. “I will have plenty of help, but I need someone I trust to keep the women safe.”

“What’s going on?” I cut in, moving forward to join the conversation.

Hera glanced at me. “Gaia has let loose her youngest son Typhon on us, to avenge the other Titans we have imprisoned. Typhon is launching an attack on Olympus from Earth,” she explained. “Go pack a few things. We’re leaving immediately.”

“I will stay and fight,” I replied. Three sets of eyes settled on me. Ares rolled his in utter disdain. To his credit, Zeus kept a straight face and laid a fatherly hand on my shoulder.

“Daughter, I know that you want to fight with us, but you are inexperienced and will only be a hindrance. You can help Ares guard your stepmother.”

I glanced at Hera in exasperation. He was right about my inexperience, but his words still stung. “How will I ever gain experience in warfare if I never actually get to participate in any fighting?”

“There will be plenty of time for experience later,” Zeus replied. “Right now, I need to focus on the problem at hand. That is my final word.” He turned and walked away, leaving both Ares and me glaring after him. Hera swung around without another word, bound for her bedroom to pack.

“If you are to guard Mother, then why do I need to? That is not a two-person job,” Ares grumbled.

“Because he wants us both out of the way,” I said. “He wants all the glory for himself.” Ares shot me a startled look, even as I regretted giving my thoughts away.

A short time later, we were gathered in front of the villa. In the distance, I could see Zeus strategizing with Hephaestus, Poseidon, and Hermes. Aphrodite glided up, gowned in a light gauze peplos belted with a gold girdle. Even though this was not my first sight of her, I was still silenced by her beauty. Unlike the other goddesses in Olympus, she never wore her hair bound up, but rather let it tumble down her back in a riot of golden waves. By my side, Ares was struck equally dumb, and his color started to rise.

“I’m ready whenever you are. Hestia has already left for Rhodes,” said Aphrodite with an undertone of excitement. She tucked her arm into Ares’, who promptly turned red. “I’m sure we’ll be perfectly safe, with such a fine guard,” she added in a sultry voice, shooting Ares a sideways glance through her lashes. Hera regarded Aphrodite with irritation as I rolled my eyes behind her. Poor Ares’ brain was not up to the challenge of dealing with Aphrodite’s teasing, although I suppose it wasn’t exactly his brain that was in charge by that point.

Hera got to the point. “All right, let’s go.” She took my arm, collared Ares with the other, and shimmered us all away to Helios’s palace on the island of Rhodes.

Rhodes was mind-numbingly dull, with nothing to do but sit around with the other goddesses. Ares crept away to drink with Helios, but I was considered too young and too female to go with them. Hermes flitted in now and again to keep Hera appraised as the battle raged on Earth. I got the sense, despite his optimistic reports, that events were not going well. For one thing, if the Olympians were doing so well, they probably would have defeated Typhon by then. Four gods against one Titan should have been a foregone conclusion.

Then one day, Hermes flew in, breathing heavily, his chiton filthy and ragged. “All is lost! Poseidon and Hades have been repulsed and forced back into their own realms. Typhon pitched Hephaestus into a volcano and sealed him in.”

“What about Zeus?” asked Hera, her voice pitched high with anxiety.

Hermes paused. “Great Lady, Zeus has been gravely injured. Typhon was able to fly up to Olympus and grabbed the king, despite the hundreds of thunderbolts that Zeus hurled at him. Typhon ripped out the tendons from Zeus’s legs and dropped him. Zeus fell to Earth and Typhon then sealed him into a cave. Olympus is abandoned and Typhon has claimed it for himself!”

Hera clapped her hands to her mouth to stifle a groan. The other goddesses clustered around her, horrified into silence.

“Why is this the end? Can’t my father just heal himself? He is immortal,” I said in puzzlement.

“We can heal ourselves, but we cannot regenerate limbs or missing parts,” Aphrodite said kindly. “If Zeus’s tendons are restored to him, he can heal and rejoin the fight.”

I absorbed the information as Hera was guided back to her couch by Aphrodite. Hestia left at a run to find Ares. I cast a steely look at the drooping Hermes.

“Do you know where my father’s tendons are?”

Hermes shook his head. “I stayed with your father until he was sealed into that cave, and then I escaped before Typhon could turn his focus on me. Typhon still had Zeus’s tendons at that time.”

“Come rest and refresh yourself,” I said, guiding Hermes to an empty couch in the hall even as I thought hard. Logic dictated that Typhon would keep the tendons close in order to ensure that Zeus never got them back, or else give them to a trusted ally to hold while he dealt with the next greatest threat: Poseidon. We would need a two-pronged strategy.

Ares arrived at a run and crouched by Hermes’ couch to get the report. His fists clenched as the story unfolded.

“Hermes, is Typhon married?” Hermes nodded before taking a long swig of mulled wine.

“To Echidna, another of Gaia’s children.”

I gave Ares a long, level look. “We need to return Father’s tendons to him so that he can continue the fight. You and Hermes should go to Poseidon and strategize ways to defeat Typhon. Or at least get Father’s tendons back. I will go to Echidna, in case Typhon gave her the tendons to guard. If she doesn’t have them, I will find Gaia to see if Typhon gave them to her. Remember, the focus must be on getting Father and his thunderbolts back into the battle.”

Ares straightened to his full height, his face blazed with joy now that his chance at glorious battle was finally at hand. “I will leave immediately.” He glanced down at the exhausted Hermes. “Hermes, rest awhile and join us in Poseidon’s palace under the sea. We’ll wait for you.”

Hermes nodded wordlessly and sank back on the couch, closing his eyes.

Ares turned to me. “Sister, be very careful. Don’t try anything. If Echidna does have Father’s tendons, come find us at Poseidon’s and we’ll proceed from there,” he said before shimmering away.

I was transfixed by his sheer arrogance. Gaia, it was my plan after all!

Hera was being tended by Hestia and would have only tried to stop me anyway, so I went to Aphrodite to learn where Echidna lived. Her sky-blue eyes narrowed as she considered me.

“Athena, what are you about? You’re far too inexperienced to get involved in this mess.”

Gaia! I was so tired of everybody telling me that I was too young or too inexperienced to do anything worthwhile! I bit my tongue, telling myself that I didn’t need to upset her.

“I won’t. I’m just going to scout her out. I’ll keep myself invisible all the while, don’t worry.”

“All right, then. Echidna is reputed to live deep under the earth, under the mountains of Arima. She has a cave that is hidden under a hollow rock, far away from the sight of mortals and immortals alike. I would look for a wide trail leading to a rock, because she is reputed to have the tail of a giant snake. Athena, do not engage her! She is an adult Titan and her strength far exceeds yours!”

Stifling a groan, I thanked her and shimmered away to Arima. Following Aphrodite’s suggestion, I looked for a wide trail and eventually I did stumble across one, leading tellingly to a large boulder in the hillside. Secreting myself behind another large rock that had a side view of my target boulder, I settled down to wait. I accidentally started to doze out of sheer boredom, when a loud grating noise shocked me awake. Caught unawares, I was too flustered to focus on shielding myself. Instead, I huddled down and watched as Echidna emerged from the depths of her cave.

Echidna was very impressive. Her upper body was that of a lush, naked nymph, slender and beautiful. Her lower body was that of a giant snake, many times the length of her upper self. Her face was stunning, dark eyes set over pink cheeks. Her dark hair tumbled down the length of her bare back to skim the scales on her lower half. She glided forward slowly, her snake body flexing and contracting to move her forward a foot at a time, so it took quite a bit of time for her to get her full length out of the cave.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and invoked my mother’s power of shielding. The problem was that I never felt any differently when I succeeded, so I didn’t actually know if I was cloaked or not. There was only one way to find out.

Once Echidna’s tail was out, I shot out from behind my rock and darted past her into the dark depths of the tunnel. Behind me, I heard the grinding as she slid the rock back into place. Creating a small fireball, I floated it above me and moved forward down the tunnel, looking for her lair. Sure enough, the tunnel widened into a small cavern in which rested a large nest made up of branches and lined with soft fur. I was moving forward carefully when one of the pieces of fur moved. I froze. The creature in the nest meowed softly, shifting and then raising its head. Its feline eyes slid unseeing over me; that’s when I knew for sure that I had shielded myself successfully.

The creature looked up at my fireball in puzzlement, but it eventually decided that the flaming orb was harmless and curled back up into sleep. Relieved, I got to work, creeping around the corners of the cavern searching for anything that looked like tendons. Inevitably, I found nothing. That left the nest itself.

The beast inside appeared to be fast asleep, so I approached the nest and climbed into it, brightening the fireball as I did so that I could see more clearly. The creature curled up in the nest was a strange compendium of animal parts. It seemed to be a juvenile, with the body of a lion cub. The head of a goat poked out from its back, facing the other way. A soft rumble emanated from its body as it slumbered.

Turning my eyes from the animal, I searched the nest, shifting scraps of fur and branches as necessary. Either the sound I was making or my unfamiliar scent awoke the cub, because it sprang to its feet, squalling from both its heads. Frightened, I spun around to face the beast, but it had backed away and flattened itself into a corner of the nest, still wailing.

It was lucky that I turned around, because my eyes fell on a pair of glistening, bloody ropes right in front of its paws. I sprang forward to grab them, gagging at the smell. The creature must have sensed me somehow; as I picked up the slimy strands, it hopped forward and sank its teeth into my right calf. I shrieked and inadvertently dropped my shields, becoming fully visible. I’m not proud of my next act, but I used my free foot to kick the frightened juvenile in its ribs. It released my right leg to utter an earsplitting yowl. Another hard kick and it flew like a football into the side of the nest.

Behind me, I heard the grinding of rock as the doorway to the cavern reopened. Then came Echidna’s frantic calls as she slithered into the tunnel. She sounded both scared and angry. Squashing my fear, I closed my eyes, focused on the palace at Rhodes, and vanished.

Hermes was still at Rhodes finishing a meal when I arrived in a rush. His chewing paused as he took me in, my father’s tendons hanging from my hands.

“Gaia! You’ve found them! I can’t believe it!”

“You know where Zeus is trapped, correct?” I asked.

Hermes nodded, took a hurried gulp from his goblet to wash everything down, and got to his feet.

“Let’s go.”

Hermes took my arm and shimmered me to a lonely hillside. He pointed to a rock fall. “He’s through there. We’re going to have to work together to move the rocks.”

I knotted my father’s tendons around my waist to keep them out of the way. Then, Hermes and I combined our power to shift the boulders one at a time, until there was an opening large enough for me to wriggle through.

“Go on,” he urged. “I’ll keep clearing the way so that Zeus can get back out.”

I nodded to him with a smile. Here at last was someone who actually thought me capable enough to do things. I bent to ease my body into the hole, the sharp edges of the surrounding rocks scraping me and tearing my chiton. Nevertheless, I got through and fired up my trusty fireball. Zeus lay limply in a corner, his eyes blinking in the dim light. I scrambled over the stony floor to reach him.

“Father, I have your tendons. How do we get them back in?” I asked, untying the tendons around my waist. Zeus regarded me silently, seemingly in shock.

“Father? Are you all right?”

“I thought this was the end for me,” he said in a rusty voice. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I’m sorry, we need to move quickly. Echidna had your tendons and I don’t know if she has a way to communicate with Typhon. If she has told Typhon that I have them, he will be here very shortly. We need to get you on your feet!”

Zeus nodded. “First, we must clean the tendons.”

I cursed my lack of foresight. In my rush, I had not brought a water skin with me.

“No matter,” Zeus said, placing one palm on the cave floor. After a few seconds, water seeped around his hand, forming a small pool. Swiftly, I rinsed the grime from the tendons and handed one to him.

My father shifted and sliced into the back of his leg with his thumbnail. Blood oozed out as he pushed the tendon deep into the gash, pinching the edges of his raw flesh together afterwards to seal it again. Once he was done, I handed him the other tendon and he repeated the process on his other leg. Once he was done, he fell back onto the floor and lay there, gasping in pain.

“I need a short time to heal. Tell me, do you know about what Poseidon and the others are planning?”

I told him what little I knew, adding that Hermes was outside and would have a better idea. In due time, Zeus attempted to rise, using the cave walls to support himself. He gained his feet and took one shaky step and then another. Thanks be to Gaia! I moved forward to lend him my shoulder and we weaved our way back to the cave entrance.

“Hermes, stand back!” shouted my father through the hole I had wriggled through.

“Yes, Sire,” came the faint reply.

Raising one hand and gathering the last of his strength, Zeus fired a thunderbolt at the blocked entrance, blasting through the layers of rubble and debris. There was a rumbling as boulders from above the cave entrance fell, leaving just enough of an opening to get out.

Exhausted, Zeus sagged, his weight dragging my body down. Luckily, a pair of brown arms came through the hole and together, Hermes and I got my father out into the open and laid him on the bare ground.

Now with sunlight to aid me, I saw thick angry scars running up the backs of his legs, all the way from his ankles up to the point where his flesh disappeared under his chiton.

Hermes thumped me on the shoulder with a wide smile. “Well done, Athena! You did it!”

I smiled weakly at him and said in an undertone, “Father is in terrible shape. I don’t know if this actually changes anything.”

“I’m not decrepit!” came a rough voice from the ground. “Or deaf, for that matter! I just need a good feeding and I’ll be on my feet once more. Now, take me to the others!”

Typhon

Zeus limped into the hall of Helios’s palace in Rhodes. Poseidon, Hermes, and Ares stood at his arrival, evaluating his condition.

“Well met, brother,” said Poseidon with a broad smile as they grasped forearms in greeting. “You look better than I expected.”

Zeus gave him a crooked smile and gestured for us to sit. Ares and I exchanged victorious glances, pleased to be included in the strategy session. Hades was away, working on freeing Hephaestus from his prison, but Zeus had already decided not to wait for them. The reason was simple: The faster we moved, the less likely Typhon would learn that Zeus was free. It would be the five of us against Typhon, and we needed every advantage we could garner.

“Typhon is still on Olympus, methodically destroying our homes,” began Hermes gravely.

“Then that is where we will meet him,” replied Zeus.

“His size could be a disadvantage,” mused Poseidon. “He stands five times our height. On Olympus, that would mean that his head would be in the clouds. He would have to bend over to see us, putting him off balance.”

“Good, good,” replied my father. “If we could somehow push him over and restrain him, we could finish him off with a combination of weapons and my thunderbolts.”

“Ah, I see,” said Hermes, getting excited. “Once he’s down, we could bind him with magical chains and push him over the edge of Olympus.”

I sat quietly listening to the ideas flow, rubbing my bitten leg absentmindedly. I couldn’t help thinking that the emerging plan was built on a succession of ifs. It seemed that everyone was hoping for Typhon to cooperate and fall over at the correct moment.

“What happened the last time you confronted Typhon?” I asked, hoping to learn what had gone wrong. Silence reigned for a moment, Poseidon shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

Finally, Zeus answered. “Hades raised the earth in a dark cloud to confound Typhon, while I fired at him with my thunderbolts. To my surprise, my bolts glanced off his scales, leaving only a smoking spot. Poseidon then attacked him with his trident, but once again his scales shielded him.”

“Is he completely protected by scales?” asked Ares.

“His lower half is scaled, but he wears armor to protect his chest and torso. If we are to get him on the ground, we must trip him somehow.”

I mused on that particular problem, while the others continued their conversation. Our greatest weapon was my father’s thunderbolts. If Typhon’s scales resisted their power, it nullified that advantage. But without the thunderbolts, how would we ever pierce the scales? The answer came to me in a sudden flash of inspiration.

“Water!” I blurted. All eyes swung towards me.

“What about water, girl?” asked Poseidon, annoyed that I had interrupted the discussion.

“Water can go anywhere,” I explained. “Into the smallest of cracks and even under scales... Your water could carry father’s thunderbolts under Typhon’s scales to fell him!”

My father sat up, excitement kindling in his eyes. “Interesting! Poseidon, we have always used our capabilities in concert, but never combined them. It would be worth a try. If it doesn’t work, we will be no worse off than we are right now.”

We materialized behind Hephaestus’s workshop on the far end of Olympus. Hera had vehemently opposed Ares’ and my inclusion in the group, but to no avail. Zeus was adamant that we accompany the war party. Hermes flew away to find Typhon while the rest of us took our positions. Only Poseidon stayed visible, stationing himself in front of the workshop’s door to lure Typhon towards him.

I slipped around the protective berm in front of the workshop to secret myself in the trees while Ares did the same on the other end. Our jobs were to keep Typhon distracted while Zeus and Poseidon conducted the real attack.

I caught sight of Typhon while he was still a good distance away. He was most impressive. I had been told that he was a giant, but not that his lower half was made of four muscular viper tails. He was able to travel surprisingly fast by lifting himself and crawling forward much like a spider. In contrast, his upper body appeared normal, almost attractive, with a handsome face and long black hair flowing down his back, strong arms terminating in fingers that spat fire.

Hermes led the giant towards us, flitting about and harrying Typhon by inflicting shallow cuts with his blade. Typhon appeared almost amused by this, slapping at Hermes lazily with his great hands. It was when he caught sight of Poseidon at the workshop door that his expression changed. His broad face darkened and he picked up the pace, flinging his coils forward at greater speed. I tensed. We had chosen this ground for a very specific reason. The berm that prevented the spread of fire from the workshop could also act as a breakwater for a flood. It was vital that Typhon cross the embankment.

Typhon slowed as he neared the workshop, his heavy head swinging from side to side suspiciously, looking for other adversaries. He paused, keeping the mound between himself and Poseidon.

“Where are the rest of you, Olympian?” Typhon’s voice rumbled forth. “I do not believe that you have come alone.”

At that, Zeus opened the door of the workshop and walked forward to stand beside his brother.

“Indeed, my brother did not come to face you alone,” replied Zeus confidently, grasping a thunderbolt in his right hand.

Typhon’s laughter assaulted my eardrums. “You again! This time I will break your body into such small pieces that your family will despair putting you back together again!”

“Come on then, monster!” goaded Zeus. “You claim that you will destroy me, but you linger so far away that you reveal your fear of us.”

Typhon growled. The ends of his fingers started to spark. The tails on his lower body pulled him forward again, building to a steady pace. Zeus and Poseidon stepped forward a few steps as if to challenge him. Typhon’s heavy body churned up and over the berm as he held his hands forward, shooting flame from his fingertips. That was the signal for Ares and me to reveal ourselves. We ran towards Typhon, swords unsheathed. He caught sight of us in his periphery but must have dismissed us as secondary threats, knowing that on this particular battlefield, Zeus was the greater danger.

In front of him, Zeus and Poseidon darted apart to give Typhon separate targets. Behind him, Ares reached him first and hacked at his rearmost tail with his sword. With dismay, I saw the bronze of Ares’ blade begin to warp as it glanced off Typhon’s diamond-hard scales. The next moment, Typhon whipped that tail forward to take another step, knocking Ares flat. My brother’s sword spun out of his hand and landed a few feet away. Ares sat up, obviously reeling, and scrambled on his hands and knees to reclaim his weapon.

By this time, I had reached Typhon myself. Like Ares, I selected the rearmost tail, but unlike him, I lifted my sword high above my head and thrust its point downwards between two scales. I was rewarded with a bellow as I threw my weight on the blade, driving it through the quivering flesh and into the ground beneath. Typhon tried to twitch his tail free but the blade held, pinning him temporarily in place.

Typhon’s body blocked my view of my father and uncle, but I heard my father shout “Now!” Upon his signal, Ares and I followed our instructions and ran for the bank. After a few strides, my injured leg suddenly buckled under my weight. I stumbled to the ground and lost a few precious seconds as Ares reached the mound and hauled himself up its steep face.

Behind me, I knew our plan was unfolding. In moments, Poseidon would spin his trident, plunging its tines into the ground to summon the flood that would engulf Typhon. I clambered back to my feet, and was limping the few remaining feet to the berm when the force of Poseidon’s flood hit me and slammed me into its face. Water whirled waist-deep around me and then receded as I scrambled up the incline, trying desperately to get clear of the water. I succeeded in climbing free, but to no avail. The wet soil acted as a conductor when Zeus fired thunderbolt after thunderbolt into the water. Typhon screamed behind me as streams of crackling blue fire sizzled in my wake.

I can speak with authority as to why the thunderbolt is such a fearsome weapon. My muscles locked, spasming as every nerve in my body seemed to catch fire. I couldn’t even scream, my throat muscles frozen tight. Even my lungs ceased to function, breath locked in my chest. Blue fire flickered around the edges of my vision as, mercifully, everything turned to black.

After the battle, Hermes carried my unconscious body back to Rhodes, while the rest of the group stayed on Olympus to deal with Typhon. Ares told me later that they bound Typhon with magical chains and used them to drag his struggling form to the edge of Olympus before pushing him off. Far below, Hades opened a great, gaping hole in the earth, through which Typhon dropped like a stone, straight into the pit of Tartarus.

As for myself, it turned out that the creature that had bitten me was Typhon and Echidna’s child, a young Titan named Chimera. Chimera’s bite was poisonous, fatal to humans and harmful to immortals. Zeus’s thunderbolt may have felled me, but it was the raging infection in my bloodstream that laid me low. To their eternal credit, Hera and Hestia took turns nursing me back to health, never once leaving me alone. It was thus a surprise when I awoke one day to find Zeus sitting in Hera’s chair beside my bed.

Disoriented, I lifted my head and regarded him blankly, trying to work out whether or not he was real. A warm smile split his dark beard as he leaned forward to place a hand on my forehead.

“You’ve cooled down, Athena. You’re going to be just fine,” he said quietly. “All is well.”

“What happened?” I struggled to sit up in the bed. “Is Typhon defeated?”

“He is,” Zeus confirmed. “It took several days, but we were able to cast him into Tartarus and pin him down with a mountain. He’s not going anywhere.”

If I weren’t so weak, I would have shouted out in victory. As it was, all I could manage was a weak, “Can we go home, then?”

“As soon as you are able,” he said. “Sleep now, daughter.” In an unexpected show of affection, Zeus leaned forward and placed his cool lips on my warm forehead. I felt a wave of his strength flow into my body, calming my infected blood. I signed aloud in relief, my eyes sagging shut as I sank back onto my bed.

“You did well, Athena. Your loyalty and bravery will be honored.”

Maiden Goddess

The years passed, and I learned all that Hera and Hestia could teach. I had proved my loyalty to Zeus and, more importantly, I was the only child born “solely” of his seed (ha!) and thus was special in his eyes. I stayed close to him, slowly softening him as only a daughter can. Zeus made the error of trying to seat me as a council member after the Typhon affair, but that was universally protested by the rest of the gods. I was untested, and even if my body was that of an adult, my lack of experience with gods and humans alike made me unprepared for such an august responsibility. So, my father sent me to the river god Triton on Earth for seasoning.

Life was good under Triton’s care, and I found my first true friend in his eldest daughter, Pallas. She wasn’t the genteel, well-behaved female that the rest of the goddesses tended to be (except for Aphrodite, who was delightfully improper!). That was what endeared her to me.

I shared a cozy riverside cottage with Pallas and her sisters. I think they were meant to be my handmaidens, but that’s not the way it worked out. Pallas was far too spirited, and her sisters far too flighty, so we wound up companions rather than mistress and servants. If my aunt Hestia had known that Pallas and I sparred or rode most mornings, she probably would have thrown a divine fit before putting me to work at my loom or some other horrific task. Instead, I grew fit and strong, playing under the golden Boacian sun.

It was Pallas who first told me that my eyes were unusual. She drew me to the bank of her father’s river and passed her hand over the waters to calm them. Once they settled into mirror-like stillness, she bade me lean over the water to look at my face.

I had often looked down at myself and was well aware that my body was long-limbed, my skin the color of cream, my tumbling hair streaked sunlight. I had enough self-awareness to know that my face was attractive, but much less so than the other goddesses of Olympus. My looks tended towards handsomeness rather than outright beauty, but that was just fine with me, as my demeanor had always been rather stern. That was not intentional, but I didn’t have Pallas’s skill of relating easily to others.

“Look more closely at your eyes,” invited Pallas, leaning over the water herself so that our reflections appeared side by side. “Compare them to mine.”

I bent over till my nose was close to the water. So? My eyes were dark blue. Hers were a lighter shade of blue but, again, nothing unique. My gaze flicked between the two reflections, comparing. Then I finally saw it: The sparks that I thought were the glint of sunlight on the water resided deep in my eyes, but not in Pallas’s. I heard a gurgle of laughter from her when I finally figured it out.

“You have the stars themselves in your eyes,” she said. “They must have come from your mother, as I’m fairly sure Zeus doesn’t have them. And what’s more, the color changes with your mood! When your fire is up, the stars brighten until your eyes look silver! Bright-eyed Athena!”

I smiled at my reflection, pleased now that I knew there was something distinctive about my looks after all. With a snort, Pallas jabbed an elbow into my side, almost knocking me into the river.

“Now, there’s no need to start preening! Please don’t tell me that you’re going to turn into one of those featherheads who can’t live without a mirror.” I sprang to my feet and went after her to wrestle her to the ground. She was faster than me and darted away, light as thistledown on her bare feet. We raced along the river bank, hearts pounding, hair flying, the very picture of carefree youth.

Ahead of us, a shimmer of light appeared as my half-brother Ares materialized, one hand placed elegantly on the hilt of the sword at his waist. He was a golden youth, strong of limb, but had not yet gained his first beard. Hence, he had not yet been seated on Olympus, either. I know that he was deeply offended when our father tried to seat me ahead of him, but strangely enough, he bore no ill will towards me for it, and often dropped in to check on me and to spar with Pallas and me.

Pallas slid to a halt in front of Ares, her eyes dancing. She found Ares attractive and wasn’t above a little flirting even when she was testing her sword arm against his. Ares found her amusing and tried to flirt back, but it wasn’t in his nature to be lighthearted and charming. He usually came off a bit wooden when he tried, but I thought it nice that he even made the attempt.

To me, he was a tolerant older brother, but definitely on the businesslike side. His blows came a lot harder when the two of us sparred, but I couldn’t blame him, as Metis had invested me as Goddess of War. A slight problem, given that Ares had already been invested by our father as God of War.

“Good morning, my Lord!” sang Pallas. “Care to ride with us?”

“Not today, Pallas. I’m here on business.” His gaze turned to me. “Athena, I bring a message from my mother. You are to present yourself at Olympus in two days’ time, wearing your best attire.”

“What for?” I asked, mystified. Hera was always kind to me, but it was a relief to both of us that I was sent to foster on Earth. My presence reminded her of her predecessor, Metis, and her single-minded devotion to the womanly arts was a trial for my less-domesticated soul.

“I haven’t the vaguest idea,” replied Ares, looking faintly irritated. “She could have sent Hermes to deliver the message, but she summoned me instead.”

Pallas’s eyes widened. “Perhaps you are to be married.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! I’m far too young.” I scoffed. I glanced at Ares, expecting agreement, but he shrugged.

“I don’t know…” continued Pallas in a doubtful tone. “Hera is the Goddess of Marriage and Family, after all. This is her domain. In your best attire, remember? Everyone up there has already seen you in your regular chitons, so why would they care?”

I stiffened in shock. Marriage? I had expected it to come up eventually, but not this soon! I was definitely not ready to give up my freedom, just as I had gained some measure of it.

“Message delivered, sister. I’m off,” Ares said abruptly, breaking into my contemplation. “I’ll see you in two days.” He started to shimmer.

“Ares, wait. Who else will be there?” I asked his disappearing form.

“Everybody, I think,” came his disembodied voice as the last of him vanished.

I dropped cross-legged to the ground, not noticing that the hem of my chiton had ridden up, allowing the green grass to poke into some sensitive areas.

Pallas came to rest beside me, more gracefully. “Don’t overreact, Athena,” she said. “I may be wrong. It may be the ascension ceremony of another god.”

“Tartarus, I hope so!” I replied. “What you have said makes too much sense. If something else was going on, it would have been Zeus who summoned me.” I covered my face with my hands. “Oh Pallas, this is horrible. What do I do?”

“What can you do? You are still a daughter, and that means your parents can dispose you as they will.” She placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “You’re a goddess. And there are many wifeless gods out there, looking for a strong bloodline to ensure strong children.”

My eyes narrowed. “I’m far more than a bloodline. I’m the child of Zeus and Metis, with both Olympian and Titan blood running in my veins,” I hissed. “If anyone thinks I’m a broodmare to be ‘disposed of,’ they are deeply, deeply mistaken.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Pallas. “You can’t not show up.”

“Oh, I’m going. But first, I need to visit my great grandmother.”

After a quick consultation with Triton on where Gaia might be, I shimmered to the area known as Aegira. Triton had advised me to enter one of the many caves, as Gaia was the Earth itself and it was easier to reach her underground. I searched until I found a relatively dry cave and entered. It was a deep cavern that continued to narrow until I was totally enveloped in darkness.

“Great Gaia, I am your great granddaughter Athena. Hear me! I need your aid.” Nothing happened, so I tried again. Relying on instinct, I knelt on the damp floor and pushed my hands into the earth until they were buried up to my wrists.

“Grandmother, your descendant begs your help!” The darkness began to thicken, a vast presence seeming to seep into the air from the rock walls. The pressure within the cave intensified until it pressed in on my eardrums. Gaia didn’t speak, but I was fairly sure that I had gotten her attention.

“Divine Gaia, I am your descendant by way of Metis, the Titan,” I said humbly, hoping that she didn’t know about my role in the imprisonment of her son Typhon. “I beg your guidance.”

“My descendant by way of my enemy Zeus, as well,” came a deep voice in my head. “Why should I help you?”

“For the sake of my mother, who was betrayed by my father,” I said.

“I have no love for Zeus, although I honor him as my father. It is Zeus and Hera that I need protection from.” The pressure in my brain eased.

“Speak on.”

“I believe that my stepmother is arranging my marriage.” The cave walls trembled as Gaia laughed.

“Is that all? You are wasting my time!”

“Grandmother, I realize that this must seem silly to you,” I said urgently, fearful of losing her attention. “But I am not ready for such a step, as I have so much more to learn. I look around me and I don’t see marriage as a state to admire. Zeus and Hera are polite adversaries. My mother was swallowed by my father. Kronos swallowed his children despite his wife’s protests. The extended family is at war. How exactly is marriage going to benefit me?” Gaia went still.

“What do you want of me?”

“Advice. How do I get out of this without violating my filial duty?”

“There is no way to do that. Your parents are responsible for you until you are of age, or until you belong to another. It is their duty to arrange your future. It has always been such, and I will not interfere between a parent and child.”

“Grandmother, all I want is a delay, not to prevent them from doing their duty. Perhaps until I’ve grown into my own power. A marriage of equals would be far more palatable to me.”

“There may be a way,” Gaia responded thoughtfully. “Your father will be furious with me, but that is no matter. He owes his existence to me, just as you all do.” I pricked up my ears.

“An oath sworn in my name is the most binding of oaths, and all those of my line are required to honor it,” she hinted.

I sat back on my heels, thinking. The wording of the oath would be crucial so that I didn’t accidentally box myself in for eternity. I would have to give myself a way out.

“Great Gaia, hear my oath…”

Two days later, Pallas and I shimmered into the Agora of Olympus, dressed in our best. Around me, the various Olympian gods and goddesses stood conversing under the darkening sky, shot through with the beginnings of starlight. The Agora was a huge, round marble dais in the heart of Olympus, floor patterned with elaborate vining designs. Instead of walls, the Agora was framed with a peristyle, supporting climbing roses and populated with singing birds. Under the peristyle sat a set of six crystal thrones that sparkled from the light cast by the central fire pit.

Hera approached me moving quickly, the picture of maternal dismay as she regarded my clothing. I had forsaken my favored knee-length chiton for a white, full-length peplos. That wasn’t the issue. The problem was that I had come dressed in the full panoply of the Goddess of War. Silver engraved armor encased me from shoulder to hip, flashing madly. I wore my ceremonial helmet with the nose and cheek guards in place, successfully obliterating most of my face from view. Behind me stood Pallas, bowing deeply to Hera, playing the role of handmaiden to the hilt.

“Athena! Is there a war going on that I am unaware of?” asked Hera, eyeing me up and down.

“No, dear stepmother. You had indicated my best attire, and this armor that Hephaestus made is the best that I have.”

Hera lifted a delicate hand to her brow as if it pained her. “My dear, I see that I have to educate you on what constitutes appropriate attire on Olympus. Please take off that dreadful helm, at least! Everyone is staring.”

I obediently took off my helmet and nestled it in the crook of my left arm. My simply braided hair tumbled down my back.

“You should have put your hair up properly,” Hera said. Her own auburn hair had been curled, bound, braided, and pinned within an inch of its life. It looked like a boulder on her head, confined by her traditional gold diadem. I could see Zeus approaching over her shoulder, a wicked grin splitting his beard as he took in my appearance.

“My helmet doesn’t fit properly that way,” I explained cheerfully. “Not enough space in there.” Behind me, Pallas kept a perfectly blank face, looking at the floor. Zeus reached us then, taking my hand in his broad one.

“You look…delightfully war-like tonight, Daughter,” he said, the grin still on his face, even as he ignored his fuming spouse. “Is there some conflict on the horizon that you foresee?”

“Well, there is that issue between the Pelasgian and the Curestes tribes,” I improvised. “I was going to pop over and take a look after this event. Would you like to go with me, Father?” Hera looked like her head was going to explode. She quickly took my arm, drawing me towards her palace on Olympus.

“I’m going to take Athena and dress her more appropriately.” I sent me father a beseeching look and his face immediately softened.

“She looks fine. This is appropriate for who she is. Leave her alone, Wife.”

“Helios is here, Husband,” responded Hera through her teeth. “We can’t have him see her like this. I can at least get rid of her armor.”

“Helios? What does it matter to me what he thinks?” I asked innocently, though I knew quite well.

“He is to be your husband, Athena,” ground out Hera. “He has petitioned your father and me for your hand, and we have agreed. It is a most fitting match.”

“Ah,” I breathed, the moment of truth finally at hand. “I thank you both for your care, Majesties, but I cannot marry Helios. Or any other god. By consent of our ancestress, Gaia.”

The indulgent look on my father’s face vanished when I mentioned the name of his grandmother and immortal enemy.

“Gaia,” said my father roughly. “What does Gaia have to do with this?”

“I met Gaia in the caves below Aegira some time ago.” Not quite true. It had only been two days, but I needed to lend credibility to the story. “We have gotten close and I confided in her my fear that I’m yet worthy to be Goddess of Wisdom.

“She confirmed that I’m not quite at the level I should be, to guide humanity in their decision making.” I kept my voice level as I continued to lie through my teeth. “She charged me to dedicate myself to perfecting my godhood. And caught up in the moment, I vowed in her name that I would remain apart and dedicate myself to that righteous goal.” Hera gasped in horror. As Gaia had said, a vow made in her name had to be taken very seriously.

My father exploded. “How dare you make such a vow without consulting me, you foolish girl? You are still a junior member of my house, and have no rights of your own!”

I dropped to my knees at Zeus’s feet, realizing for the first time that I had overstepped the limits of his indulgence. He had always seemed to enjoy my previous displays of will.

“I have erred, Father,” I said, my eyes on the floor. “What you say is true. However, my oath is given and Gaia has accepted it. Such a vow is sacred. I would be banished to the bowels of Tartarus should I betray it.” I lifted my starlit eyes to his, trying to melt him as I had done many times before. But he was well beyond that in his fury. He pointed at my nose, lightning flicking dangerously around his finger. I braced for the walloping that I was about to receive from his famed thunderbolt, but it never came. He lowered his finger. As he slowly mastered himself, his face became remote once more.

“So, Athena, you have taken things into your own hands,” he said, and I could see that he knew perfectly well that I was manipulating him. “So be it. Such an oath is binding, and I will not force you to disgrace yourself by breaking it. But there will be a cost. Live apart you shall, and as an eternal maiden. No one will ever share your bed, on pain of destruction. You will never know the joys of love or motherhood. Let all here witness my vow.”

I stared up at Zeus dumbly. The oath I had sworn to Gaia differed significantly from the version I gave my father. I had sworn to live apart until such time that I had earned the love and devotion of a city-state. I had deliberately included an escape clause to give myself the freedom to marry, if I ever wanted to. Unfortunately, Zeus had just thwarted my intent by naming himself as the enforcer of my eternal virginity. No one with any sense would touch me now.

“You have chosen this path, Daughter,” Zeus added. “Now walk it for eternity.” He turned his back and walked away, leaving me on my knees.

“Helios,” he boomed, summoning the god to his side. I turned my head to look as a god peeled away from one of the groups surrounding him to walk towards Zeus. I had seen Helios only once during my time on Rhodes. He was gorgeous, even by divine standards. Sun rays waved from his head like seaweed in a current. He was tall and toned, his skin the color of rich bronze, dressed in a chiton of gold leather that revealed his muscled thighs and calves. Helios was lovely, but I realized with relief that I valued his beauty objectively, more as an artist than as a female. Any concerns that I had made the wrong decision vanished in that instant.

Hera bent to take my hands and raised me to my feet. Astonishingly, the look on her face was of sympathy rather than of anger or satisfaction.

“Oh, Athena,” she breathed. “Believe it or not, I wanted the best for you. But as your father said, you have made your choice and I will honor it.” She bent her head to whisper in my ear. “I didn’t have a choice when it came to my marriage. Or rather, it was taken from me. So I understand. Forgive me for trying to impose my will on you.” I drew back in surprise, searching her face for deception. There was none. She patted my hand and turned to walk towards Zeus and Helios, who were in deep conversation.

Pallas drew up beside me. Her face was pale but composed. “Well, that went well.”

Pallas

Another year passed, and I continued my time living on Earth peacefully enough. I had adapted quickly to being a maiden goddess and found myself rather pleased with my situation. A virgin goddess was held in the highest regard and held sole dominion over her own affairs. Even my father had lost his parental rights over me when he acknowledged my vow as binding; since then, he had started treating me more as an adult than as a child. All in all, a very satisfactory state of affairs for a young, independent-minded goddess-in-training.

As I headed down to the river one afternoon, I ran into Pallas coming up the other way. She looked particularly fetching that day, dressed in moss green with bare feet.

“Pallas, want to go for a swim?”

“Certainly. It is getting rather hot.” She turned and fell into step with me. I glanced at her. She was glowing, color high in her cheeks.

“Is Ares here?”

She flushed. “Why should he be?”

“Oh, I don’t know... Maybe because you look like you’ve been thoroughly kissed.”

“Athena,” Pallas cried, slapping me on the arm. “You shouldn’t say such things. You know, sworn virgin, maiden goddess and all that,” she added archly. I just laughed in response.

“I still have eyes, Pallas! Just be careful, all right? You know male gods have…problems restraining themselves. As in, they don’t,” I said wryly.

“Ares isn’t like that.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m serious! He hasn’t tried anything beyond kisses and a little groping, but I’m groping him right back so it’s all right.”

“As I said before, just be careful. Gods and goddesses are an extremely fertile lot,” I said as we reached the riverbank. We both stripped to the skin and slipped into the cool, rippling water. I lay back and floated with a sigh, letting the weight of my hair spread out around me in the light current.

“Athena, you won’t believe me, but Ares is really gentle with me. And…” she sighed as she floated lazily by me. “He’s a wonderful kisser.”

I made a gagging sound. “Don’t take me there! Eternal virgin, remember?”

Pallas raised her head from the water to regard me with a wicked sparkle in her eyes. “Don’t you want to hear about his hard, muscled body?” she asked in a breathy voice, drawing out the syllables. “And just how tight his bottom is?”

I shrieked in horror. As an appalled sister and avowed maiden, I had no choice but to start a water fight to shut her up.

Romances rarely remained secret in the divine sphere, so it eventually came to Zeus’s attention that his eldest son was enraptured with a mere river nymph. Pallas would do for a dalliance, but her bloodline was not high enough for a son of Zeus. I don’t know what my father said to Ares, but it was enough to trigger my brother’s temper. He stormed out of Olympus and headed off to Sparta, where he felt most at home.

When Zeus came to visit a few days later, I assumed that he was simply indulging his curiosity. He had usually ignored Pallas whenever she came to Olympus with me, so perhaps he just wanted to see the girl who had enchanted his surly boy.

Triton came out of his river with his daughters to welcome the king of the gods. They laid an elaborate picnic beside the river and served local specialties for the delectation of mighty Zeus. Relaxing back into his simple wooden chair and surrounded by river maidens waiting hand and foot on him, Zeus set about charming the group, something that he could do in his sleep. It was a glorious day, rife with laughter and fine wine. Who could have guessed that it would all go so horribly wrong?

“Athena, I’ve heard from your brother that your sword craft has improved tremendously.” I flushed in pleasure, surprised and pleased that Ares had even mentioned it. “Can you give me a demonstration?”

“With pleasure, Father!” I nodded to Pallas, who ran to grab our practice weapons. When she returned, we each armed ourselves with a blunted short sword and light leather shield, skipping the leather corselets we sometime wore to protect our upper bodies. We faced one another and saluted with our swords to signal readiness. We circled warily, looking for an opening. There was no doubt that we were both trying to show off in front of Zeus. Perhaps Pallas was unconsciously trying to prove herself a worthy consort for the God of War, because her strikes came faster than usual. Speed was her advantage, as endurance and calculation was mine. I held my own, biding my time and waiting for an opening.

Pallas flushed with confidence as her family cheered her on. She pressed me back, blows falling with precision. Focused on blocking and parrying, I didn’t see Zeus sit up straight in his chair and frown. Pallas then issued a mighty thrust at my middle, which I easily dodged. I spun in place as I started an overhead blow. Pallas started to raise her shield to block.

“STOP!” came a roar from Zeus. Pallas froze in her tracks, shield only partially up. My swing had so much momentum that I couldn’t halt it. Too late, Pallas tried to dodge the falling sword, but it struck her at the point where her long, delicate neck met her shoulder, piercing the skin and cracking her collarbone. Pallas opened her mouth in shock, making not a sound as her family shrieked in horror. Blood spurted in a sudden fountain from the slice in her neck. Still silent, Pallas dropped to her knees, terror on her face as she realized the extent of the injury. I dropped my weapons in disbelief and sprang to catch her before she fell.

“Athena,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on mine. “Help me. It hurts...”

“Dear Gaia! Stay with me, Pallas! Stay with me!” I begged incoherently, trying to staunch the bleeding with my hands. Blood continued to ooze between my fingers as the light in Pallas’s eyes faded. The last shreds of my control snapped. I began to scream, shaking Pallas to keep her awake. “No! Stop, Pallas! Don’t go! Don’t go!”

Then Triton was by our sides, yelling his daughter’s name as he pried Pallas’s limp body from my embrace. One of Pallas’s sisters yanked me bodily away from them, taking my place by her sister’s body. Zeus had risen to his feet, but otherwise said or did nothing. I ran to him, holding out my bloody hands, stumbling in my horror.

“Father, save her!” I begged. Zeus shook his head. “Thanatos has already left with her soul. It is too late.”

“Then I shall go to my Uncle Hades and beg for her life back!” I clutched his robes, smearing them with red. He wrapped his strong arms around me and pulled me into an embrace, trying to comfort me.

“Darling, she is gone. This is not your fault,” he said softly into my hair, his friend’s lamentation in the background. “There is nothing to be done about it.”

I went stiff in his arms, horrified by his words even as I fought to pull my thoughts together. Had he shouted out on purpose to distract Pallas? I thought he had. Despite that, the main thing in my head at that moment was the realization that my first and dearest friend had died at my hand.

The Underworld

If nothing else, I was as good as my word. As soon as Pallas’s wailing family had taken her body up to our riverside cottage, I set out to beg Hades for Pallas’s life back. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and willed myself to the gates of the Underworld. When I opened them again, I was there.

The guard dog Cerberus stationed at the gates immediately realized that I was an immortal and dipped one of its three heads respectfully as it stepped sideways, out of my way. I spared a scratch for one of its panting heads as I went by. Behind me churned the river Acheron, serving as the crossing from the land of the living. The boatman, Charon, was on the far side of the river, picking up a few spirits for their journey to the land of the dead.

The “gate” to the Underworld was nothing more than a pair of black granite pillars fronting a dark tunnel that led downwards into my Uncle Hades’ realm. When my father, Poseidon, and Hades had defeated their father Kronos, they threw lots to divide up the realms of Earth and then took up dominion of their allotted realm. My father won the sky, Poseidon the sea, and Hades the Underworld. The land was essentially Gaia’s body, and belonged equally to all her creations.

I ventured into the tunnel, which was lined with flickering torches set into the rock. All that I knew was that the Underworld had three domains: the Elysian Fields that were populated with the worthiest souls, Asphodel for the commoner, and Tartarus reserved for the most evil. I was headed for Hades’ home, which was set in the center of it all.

When the tunnel finally widened into a brightly lit cavern, I ran into a queue of souls waiting to be judged. Rapidly, I scanned the line for Pallas, but she wasn’t there. At the far end of the cavern was a table with three seated judges. As each person stepped forward, the judges discussed their merits, effectively determining the fate of each soul. I walked straight to the judging table and rudely interrupted the conversation between the judges and the spirit they were evaluating.

“My lords, I am the goddess Athena. I must see my Uncle Hades immediately,” I said in my most dignified voice.

The head judge, Minos, looked at me in irritation, but answered me politely enough. “Lady, you are welcome to your uncle’s domain.” He gestured to one of the white veiled figures lining the wall, which glided forward to stand by my side. “Timos, take the goddess to her uncle’s villa.”

Timos was a man’s name, and thus I assumed it was a male who escorted me to one of the tunnels branching off from the judging chamber. I couldn’t actually tell, because he was swathed in so many layers of veils that one could see nothing of him but his hands. Together, we wordlessly entered the tunnel. It was only a short walk before the tunnel ended in yet another cavern. A glowing ball hung motionless at the roof, shedding an even, golden light over everything. Soft green mosses covered the floor, mimicking the effect of grass. Our feet sank luxuriously into the moss as we moved towards the white villa in the center of the cavern.

The villa itself could have been found on a mountaintop. Built out of white and gray stone, it was three sided, with an open courtyard in the middle where a large tree grew. It wasn’t large, but the walls were decorated with colorful murals depicting the world above.

Timos gestured silently to a bench in the courtyard before withdrawing, presumably to look for his master. Instead of taking a seat, I took a step up to a gallery to inspect one of the murals. It was an ocean scene with a fisherman mending his nets as he floated in his boat. A number of fish and exotic sea animals cavorted under the boat. The murals were finely detailed, and would not have been out of place in a palace. If it wasn’t for the strange light and the stillness of the air, this home would have been very pleasant indeed. As it was, it was a sad imitation of life above the earth.

“Athena. Niece,” came a surprised voice behind me. I spun around. In front of me was a tall, lean man dressed in violet robes bordered with gold. Unlike his brothers, Hades did not look middle-aged. He looked young—or perhaps ageless would be a more accurate term. His dark hair was close-cropped and he wore a simple gold band on his head as a diadem. His appearance came as a bit of a surprise, as I was expecting someone burly like my father. Instead he looked lean, powerful yet quietly elegant.

“Welcome to the Underworld, Goddess,” he said, his voice a pleasant tenor. “Timos told me that you have an important matter to discuss.”

“Uncle, I need your help. My friend Pallas is somewhere down here. I need you to release her back to the land of the living!”

“I’m sorry, Athena, but that is not possible. Death is the final certainty, and I cannot bend the rules—even for family,” he said gravely. “It is part of the balance that we the gods all maintain.”

“But you could, if you wanted to?”

His lips thinned. “I am the Lord of the Underworld, so yes. But I would not, as it would undermine the balance. I must be fair and treat everyone equally, just as death is impartial.”

I poured out the tale of Pallas’s untimely death, but Hades remained unmoved. “As an immortal, you will see many mortals pass on. That is why it is wise not to get too close. You should surround yourself with your own kind, Athena.”

“Then may I at least speak to her,” I blurted out. He paused with his hand on my arm.

“I would not recommend it,” he said. “After each soul is judged, they are given water from the river Lethe. At that moment, they forget their human lives and start a new life down here. Meeting Pallas could reopen old wounds and jeopardize her peace of mind.”

“We were very close, Uncle. She would want to see me,” I said. He considered for a moment.

“Very well, but in return, you must do a favor for me in the future. Unquestioningly.” I considered it for a moment. A divine favor is no small thing but honestly, I was not in the right frame of mind to make a smart decision.

“I agree.” With a nod, Hades placed his hand on my arm and we dematerialized.

When I opened my eyes, I stood beside a green-banked stream with Hades beside me. Flowers bloomed all around us, but the sunlight looked muted. The air was completely still. Pallas was frolicking in the river with several other nymphs, engaged in a water fight. They ceased their splashing when we arrived and exclaimed when they recognized Hades. Pallas, however, showed no recognition of me. To my relief, her body looked perfectly normal, with no scars to tell the story of her injury.

“Are you sure about this?” Hades turned to me. “I cannot predict her reaction when I restore her memory.” I nodded, still looking at Pallas. Hades gestured to her, drawing her dripping wet from the river.

“Pallas, you have a visitor,” Hades told her quietly before placing one finger on her wet forehead. Pallas gasped, staggering back as her memory flooded back. The color drained from her face, lines of confusion and stress etched on her brow.

“Pallas!” I sobbed, throwing myself on her and hugging her with all my strength. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you!”

Pallas stood in my arms like a doll, unresisting, her arms at her sides. I pulled back from her.

“Athena, I know that I’m dead,” she said slowly, as if processing what had happened to her. She lifted her right arm to feel her bare neck. “I felt the blade...” A note of pain entered her voice. “What are you doing down here?”

I took a deep breath. “I had to explain myself, at least once. It is my fault that you are dead.”

She cracked a brief smile, but it held none of her usual exuberance. “No, it isn’t. It was Zeus’s will that I die. I knew it the moment he shouted. I know that you would never have hurt me intentionally. You became the tool of his vengeance.” She bowed her head. “Or perhaps this is my just reward for dallying with someone too high above me.”

“Can you forgive me?” I whispered.

“Gladly.” She took my hand. “I loved you as a sister, but our paths are separate now. I have a new life here and although it isn’t as pleasant as my old life, it’s good enough.” She turned to face Hades. “My Lord, I would like to beg a boon of you,” she said formally. “When Athena leaves, please erase the memories of my previous life again. I don’t wish to remember any of it.”

I was deeply hurt at her words. I had not expected a warm welcome, but it was still distressing that she didn’t want to remember anything of our days together.

Hades raised his hand once more to touch Pallas’s forehead, and it was done. When next her eyes flicked to me, there was no recognition in them. “Go back to your friends, my dear,” said Hades, nodding towards the other nymphs playing in the water. Pallas flashed a quick smile and darted away without another word.

Tears welled in my eyes and one overflowed to slide down my cheek. Hades raised his hand as if to wipe it away but paused, letting his arm fall back to his side.

“I’m sorry,” Hades said. “The moment of death leaves permanent scars on everyone. That is why we purge their memories when they arrive: to give them the ability to put that experience behind them, once and for all. You have tried everything in your power to repair this separation. Let that be your consolation. She will be happy here, I promise.”

I wiped away the tear, looking away from him in sudden embarrassment. “Thank you for allowing me to speak with her, Uncle. I should go now.”

“Let me escort you above,” he replied gently. “I don’t see enough of the waking world.” Taking my arm again, we vanished.

When we were back beside Triton’s river, it was empty and quiet. The sun was setting over the horizon, the last rays sparking on the water as it gurgled past us.

“I’ll leave you to your grief.” Hades released my arm and stepped away. “It was good to finally meet you, Athena.”

“Uncle. Your favor—I will not forget.” Hades inclined his head and shimmered away. I turned to face the river and watched the sun go down, alone with my churning thoughts. Zeus had killed Pallas, even if he had not wielded the weapon himself. He had cost me my mother, and had condemned me to a life alone to punish me for a show of independence. Was I doomed to lose all my loved ones to that man? No, this was partly my fault. I had ignored my mother’s admonition to eclipse him for the sake of a little easy living by Triton’s river, and the shame of that ate at me. For the first time in my life, I felt a hard resolve solidify within me.

As the stars came out that night, I shimmered away to Gaia again to make another solemn vow in her august presence: I would work to bring my father down, to avenge the two precious lives that he had taken from me. So here, dear readers, is where the secret story of Athena truly begins.

The First Woman

Zeus, Hera, and Ares came to Pallas’s funeral to honor Triton’s loss. The look Ares gave me chilled me to the bone. I had made an enemy there, and the most logical response was to protect myself with allies that I could later use to undermine Zeus’s leadership.

I stood apart from the others, excluded by Triton’s family as they consigned Pallas’s shell to the river. After the brief ceremony, I watched Hera speak quietly with Triton, offering her condolences. It was at times like these that Hera’s power shown forth. As the patron goddess of the family, defender of marital and familial values and as divine mother, her touch could bring consolation to the bereaved. Even as I watched, Triton straightened under her touch, still deeply saddened but not the broken man I had seen before. They spoke more before she bowed in acknowledgement of his loss and walked to me.

“Athena, child...” She took my limp hand. At her touch, I nearly shattered again. A firm squeeze of her hand and then her arm wrapped around my shoulders, the balm of her compassion flowing over me. We stood there for a few moments, watching the river flow by as the other attendees moved away to the funeral feast set in a nearby grove.

“You will come back with us to Olympus,” Hera said. “You’ve grown up and it’s time for you to take your place there and help us rule.” I nodded, mute. There was nothing for me here. Pallas’s sisters had made it clear that I was no longer welcome to live with them by Triton’s river.

“We have an experiment that we could use your help with,” she said cryptically.

“Wo-man. I want you to create a female version of the men on Earth,” said Hera to her son Hephaestus as we all stood in his workshop.

Before you all get confused, let me explain something. The gods had created a race of immortal men after Zeus banished his father Kronos, but stopped there. The men they created were brutish creatures who seemed bent on proving their masculinity by hacking each other up. Gaia was rightfully disgusted by the mindless waste, and turned the men mortal, letting them die off naturally (or unnaturally, as the case may be). The Earth seemed in danger of being de-peopled fairly quickly.

Hera and Aphrodite had a better plan: provide mates for the men of Earth and give them a civilizing influence. As a side effect, the women thus engineered would naturally worship their creators, thereby feeding them power as they multiplied. An ingenious solution that would be beneficial for all.

“Hephaestus, Athena, you are in charge of creating this woman. Aphrodite and I will speak to the others and ask them all to provide her with divine gifts.” With a regal nod to both of us, Hera swept away, leaving Hephaestus and I staring dumbly at each other.

“My mother and my wife, plotting together,” Hephaestus groaned. “This is not going to end well.” An incorrect prediction as it turned out. I, for one, was excited by the idea of creating new life.

“What should we make the woman from?” I asked eagerly, looking about. I saw metal machines, a furnace, bellows, and miscellaneous leather harnesses and armor.

“I have gold and silver,” said Hephaestus reluctantly.

I clucked my tongue. “Would you enjoy embracing a metal creature? No, it needs to be something softer, more lush. Wool, maybe?”

“Too soft. It wouldn’t hold its shape and would probably rot after getting wet.” Hephaestus finally got into the game. “Soft, but durable…” He looked down and then crouched to touch the earthen floor of his workshop. “Pottery...”

“Doesn’t pottery crack easily?” I asked doubtfully, thinking about the violent men on Earth.

“Unfired clay, then. Malleable but durable.”

“That might work. Where can we get some?"

Later, when Hephaestus had brought in a load of clay from the isle of Lemnos, we set to work shaping the woman. As I had never done anything like this before, I observed Hephaestus closely, watching how he manipulated the clay and then replicated his actions. It was clear that Hephaestus was a natural artisan—everything he touched became more beautiful, as if he willed it to do so. He was also good company as it turned out, telling me humorous stories of his dealings with the other gods as we worked side by side. The only person who didn’t make an appearance in his stories was his wife Aphrodite, who had married him most unwillingly. And yet, Aphrodite surfaced unconsciously in the body that Hephaestus shaped for the woman. Voluptuous, yet graceful.

For my part, I used Pallas as my model, shaping the eyes with my thumbs and using my nails to create the delicate feathered brows above them. The corner of her lips, I tilted upwards as if she was about to break into a friendly smile. And yet, it felt wrong. This woman was to be the mother of a new race, and I was creating her as a copy of another. She deserved better. She deserved uniqueness. So, I started over.

I gave the woman the best of Olympus’s goddesses. She had Hera’s luxuriant hair, my eyes, and Aphrodite’s fabulous cheekbones and nose. I sculpted her lips, slightly parted in Pallas’s mischievous smile. And then, I smoothed and blended until everything fit and her face looked natural. Only Pallas’s smile remained intact, a fitting tribute to my friend. When we were done, Hephaestus and I exchanged satisfied looks.

“Lovely,” he murmured, looking at our creation. “Shall we call Hera and Aphrodite to see?”

“I’ll get them. I’ll pick out a suitable robe from Hera’s collection and bring it back with me.”

When Hera and Aphrodite arrived at the workshop, I had already draped a full-length gauze peplos embroidered with vines and birds about the clay figure. They smiled and nodded in approval, walking around the statue to view all angles.

“My gift is the gift of life,” said Hera, leaning in to breathe on the statue’s face. Nothing happened for a moment, but then the brown clay began to soften and turn fair, the change in color spreading quickly down the figure. The statue parted its lips to draw a deep breath and its eyes opened. Golden eyes, like Hephaestus’s.

“Your name shall be Pandora,” announced Hera to the woman.

Aphrodite stepped forward then. “I shall gift her with charm, beauty, and a sweet temperament.” Aphrodite kissed Pandora on the lips. When Aphrodite pulled back, Pandora stared at the lovely goddess blankly.

I caught Pandora’s chin and turned it in my direction. I put two fingers on her lips and said, “My gift to you is the gift of speech and thought.” The puzzlement in Pandora’s face continued even as her eyes focused on mine and her mind started to process. She looked lost, confused.

Hephaestus took both her limp hands in his and said, “I have already contributed to your body, but I also give you the ability of invention.” Pandora glanced downwards to their joined hands silently and then spoke for the first time.

“I thank you all for your gifts. But why am I here?”

“We, the goddesses of Olympus, created you,” said Hera gently, taking a little too much credit for my liking. “We created you to be a fitting mate to the men of Earth. You shall be called Pandora, the many-gifted, as you will be blessed among all mortals.” The small wrinkle on Pandora’s flawless brow cleared as she nodded her understanding. “Come now, we shall bathe and perfume you before taking you before the others for their gifts.”

Pandora was blessed richly by the Olympian gods with a variety of gifts and talents, and was escorted to her future husband by Zeus himself, as a gift for humanity. She birthed the first generation of mortals and honored the gods for the rest of her days, establishing the pattern for her descendants. Unfortunately, poor Pandora herself wound up being slandered by a misogynist poet named Hesiod, who endowed her with a deceitful nature and blamed her (and all women, apparently) for releasing a variety of sicknesses and evils into the world. I’m pleased to report that Hesiod wound up in Tartarus, having his writing hand broken on the wheel for eternity as punishment for slandering Hera’s divine gift.

Persephone

The favor that I granted Hades came due sooner than I expected. I had moved into my own villa on Olympus along with two dryads whom Hera had selected to be my handmaidens. She had chosen well. Descended from an oak elemental, Lito and Iris were tall, stately, and ferociously efficient. They kept the villa running smoothly and me fed, clothed, and cosseted in a manner suitable to my station. The house itself was nothing extravagant, but it certainly had more space than I needed. Since it was a gift from Zeus, however, I could not refuse. The message from Hades arrived simply enough: A scroll was left on my doorstep.

Bring Persephone to the valley below Mount Athos tomorrow morning. I wish to speak with her.

Instead of a signature, there was a sketch of Pallas’s face that made it clear enough who the author was. I didn’t have the gift of prophesy, and so assumed that Hades was dallying with Persephone and this was to be a secret meeting of the lovers. I certainly could understand why all the secrecy was needed. Ever since my father threw over Demeter (leaving her pregnant with Persephone) to marry their sister Hera, Demeter was a bit hyper-sensitive about males in general.

Persephone gushed excitedly about being invited to a morning picnic on Mount Aetna. As her host, my handmaidens and I had taken care of everything and had set up a tent for shade and cushions to lounge upon.

“Oh, Sister! How beautiful!” she exclaimed when we arrived, her hands flying to cover her mouth like little birds. She was only slightly younger than me, but our demeanors were already years apart. I admit that I can be a bit severe, but Persephone ran to the other end of the spectrum. I wouldn’t have blamed anyone for thinking her a brainless twit, although in truth she was far sharper than she appeared. When Iris and Lito exited the tent to retrieve the food, she turned and pecked me quickly on the cheek.

“Thank you for arranging this,” she said, the light of intelligence suddenly shining in her sky-blue eyes. “My mother has been making my life miserable, never letting me go anywhere or meet anyone. She absolutely forbade me from having anything to do with any of the gods. And it’s not as though I would ever let a human touch me!”

“So you two are in love?” I breathed, relieved that my assumption was right.

“Perhaps not quite in love,” she responded, turning her head to regard a table decorated with fruit. In profile, she really was quite lovely; I could easily see why Hades was drawn to her. “I find him very attractive, and he has dominion over an entire realm. I would be a queen, equal in rank to Hera. I couldn’t do better for myself.” She made a face. “Unfortunately, Mother has trouble letting me go. If we didn’t take things into our own hands, I’d be a maiden goddess forever like you. I’m not cut out for virgin life, I’m afraid,” she added as a becoming blush swept into her cheeks.

“So, what is your plan? Someone should probably give me some idea,” I said, irritated that I hadn’t been included before this point.

“Hades is coming here to take me to the Underworld, where we’ll make our vows to each other. By the time you break the news to my mother, it will be done and she will have to accept it. Simple as that.”

“Wonderful! So I’m supposed to be the one to tell Demeter about this? She’s going to blame me for conniving with you.”

“So? Why do you care? She can’t do anything to you.”

“True,” I acknowledged reluctantly. This would definitely count as full payment on my favor to Hades. “Well, it sounds like you are resolved, so I wish you the best in your marriage.”

Persephone glowed with joy. “Thank you, Sister!” she said. “I can’t wait to start my new life!”

“And you don’t have to wait any longer,” came a deep voice from behind us. I turned in time to see Hades sweep Persephone into his arms and kiss her deeply. I admit that I was touched by the romantic sight, but then the kiss strayed into passionate territory, so I decided to withdraw post-haste.

Outside, Hades’ chariot awaited with a team of coal-black horses. I ran my eyes over them in admiration. Hades and Persephone were still “dallying” in the tent, so I hopped up on the chariot and took the reins in hand. Deciding that Hades wouldn’t mind if I took his chariot for a ride, I twitched the reins and the team started off in a smooth trot that lengthened into a canter. And I fell in love. The wind tugging at my hair and gown and the sense of almost flying was exhilarating. Lito caught sight of me, waving and shouting encouragement as I flew past her once and then twice. A couple more turns around the meadow and I regretfully turned the team back towards the tent where Hades and Persephone waited.

“You drive like you were born for it, Athena,” said Hades as I drew the team to a halt beside them and sprang down. Persephone looked a bit put out, as if I had stolen the spotlight, but was quick to smile again as Hades lifted her into the chariot and put one arm around her to hold her securely against him. They made a wonderfully romantic picture as Persephone nestled into his side.

“Goodbye, ladies, and thank you for your help. Athena, good luck with Demeter!” said Hades before he clucked his tongue and the team lurched forward.

I realized then that my attendants and I were the only wedding celebrants that my half-sister was likely to have so I ran forward, waving and shouting blessings after the happy pair. My handmaidens followed my lead, all of us running madly after the chariot, shouting and blowing her kisses. Persephone twisted around and leant halfway out of the chariot, waving madly back at us, grinning all the while.

Helios must have heard the ruckus we were making and looked down as he drove his sun chariot across the sky. Because after he saw us, he headed straight for Demeter and all hell broke loose on Olympus.

I returned to Olympus at a leisurely pace (would you be in any hurry to break the news to a man-hating mother that her only daughter had run away with her brother?). By the time I arrived, Helios and a distraught Demeter had confronted Zeus with the news that Persephone had been kidnapped by Hades. My father was understandably lost and irate, as he tried to piece together his distressed sister’s story. Hera stood beside his throne, asking Helios pointed questions that he was too clueless to answer. When I finally reached the Agora, there was a general sigh of relief when Helios pointed straight to me and announced loudly, “She was there! She saw it all!”

I inclined my head politely to the assembly, not yet understanding that the kidnapping story was in play. Demeter ran to me, the first time that I had seen her move faster than a gentle glide, and clutched the front of my gown.

“Athena, what happened? Where is my daughter?”

I cleared my throat. The moment I had been dreading could not be put off any longer.

“Persephone is safe. She has married Hades in the Underworld.” Demeter’s shriek was earsplitting. She clutched at her hair like a mad woman. I backed away from her, thinking she was being overly dramatic.

Zeus stood up from his throne. “Hades did not ask me for Persephone’s hand in marriage! This is an outrage!” Demeter twisted around to face him, her face a mask of rage and incredulity.

“Who cares about that?” she screeched. “My daughter has been kidnapped and is being raped at this very moment! What are you going to do about that?”

I felt a rush of horror as I finally caught up with the drama unfolding in front of me. I held my hands up, trying to get everyone’s attention as a babble of voices erupted around me. When I was unsuccessful at interrupting the chaos the dignified way, I finally just shouted at the top of my lungs. “NOBODY IS BEING RAPED!”

The noise finally died down as all eyes turned to me. “Persephone went willingly with Hades to be his bride.” I said at my normal volume. “They are in love, and she is to be queen of the Underworld.”

“Why do you say this?” thundered Zeus. “You and your maidens were running after them screaming in horror, according to Helios.”

“We were running after them, cheering them on as a bridal party would,” I corrected.

“I don’t care how this happened. I want my daughter back, unharmed,” said Demeter in a suddenly calm and cold voice. “Or there will be dire consequences.”

Zeus made the colossal mistake of trying to shush her. Demeter, usually a stately and dignified goddess, drew herself to her full height and flayed him with her deadly tongue. “You have never been much of a father to my girl, Zeus, but this is beyond the pale. Your daughter has been taken without the consent of either of her parents. And we don’t know if she is being treated with the grace that her rank demands. If you don’t do anything about this, you are not worthy to be our king!”

And that was Demeter’s big mistake. Zeus’s pride would not let him give in to her demands without losing face himself.

“Be silent, woman!” he said, getting to his feet to face Demeter. “I am king of all of you, and you will obey me. I deem that my brother Hades is a fit consort for my daughter Persephone, and that she could not have done better in a mate. She will be a queen in her own right! Their marriage stands and that is my final word!”

Demeter regarded him with a frozen stare. In a bone-chilling scene, darkness crept from the corners of Olympus towards her, covering her russet garments in the deepest of grays.

“Brother, I tell you this. I do not accept this marriage. My daughter was forced and unless she is returned to me unharmed, the Earth and Olympus will become barren. There will be no fruit, no ripening, no conceptions and no births until my daughter is back in my arms. I, Demeter, Goddess of Fertility and the Harvest, do so vow.” With that, she turned on her heel and left the Agora with great dignity.

It was just as Demeter said: Even the fruit trees on Olympus refused to bear fruit. Although we did not need food to survive, we needed it in our souls as a diversion and a way to mark time. We were all locked in the battle of wills between Zeus and Demeter. I felt terrible about how things had played out, but knew I wasn’t to blame for what had happened. I might have taken my time about getting back to Olympus, but it was clear to me that even if I had gotten to Demeter first, she still would have overreacted and things would have played out to the same end. She appeared to be incapable of accepting that her daughter had a right to a life of her own.

I went to weave cloth with Hera and Hestia, hoping that using my hands would get me out of my morose mood. We all stood with our vertical looms, weaving the weft threads through the warp threads strung up on the frame. The other goddesses were interested to hear the story from my viewpoint. Succinctly, I did just that, leaving out the part about the favor I owed Hades. I merely said that I had invited Persephone for a picnic and she had made arrangements for Hades to meet her there.

“So Persephone was quite ready for marriage,” said Hera to Hestia with a meaningful look. “Perhaps it was just as well that she took things into her own hands. Sounds like Demeter had a life of virginity planned out for the poor girl.” Hestia looked vaguely insulted while I hid a smile at the sentiment behind Hera’s words. “I’m surprised that she had the spine. She seemed like a meek little thing to me.”

“Chastity isn’t a punishment, Sister,” said gentle Hestia. “But I agree that it should not be forced on one who doesn’t have that calling. It only becomes a joy if willingly embraced.” That was news to me. I didn’t feel the need to run around fornicating, but I didn’t regard chastity as a joy either.

“Well, Demeter was always the most stubborn of us all,” sighed Hera, as she continued to weave the pattern with her fingers. “She will not relent, and the Earth will pay for it. The crops have already withered in the fields and winter has come early. It is likely that a good number of the people will not survive the cold. We have to do something to break the deadlock, if only for their sake. Athena, do you have any suggestions?”

I considered the matter, using the repetitive motion of the fingers to focus my mind. “It has to be in a way that allows both Zeus and Demeter to retain face. Both must win something and both must lose, for the other to feel satisfied.”

“But what about what Hades and Persephone want?” demanded Hestia. “Surely, they have a say in this as well.”

“That’s true, Aunt, but I think I know their minds well enough that I can represent their interests. They don’t want the Earth to pay any more than we do. The Underworld just isn’t big enough for all those souls.”

Then the answer popped into my head, beautiful in its simplicity. “Persephone spends half the year as a wife in the Underworld, and half the year as a daughter to Demeter. Everybody gains something and everybody loses something.”

Hera and Hestia stopped their weaving to consider. “Demeter and Hades would both have to agree,” said Hestia.

“And Zeus too,” said Hera sarcastically. “He always has to have a say.”

“Three goddesses stand here, with three parties to convince,” I said, excitement rising in my voice. “This is fate.” The three of us looked at each other through the threads of our looms.

“Hades and Persephone will listen to you, Athena,” said Hera, green eyes gleaming. “I’ll tackle Zeus.”

“Which leaves Demeter for me,” said Hestia.

“She hates you the least, dear sister,” replied Hera. “After all, you’re the only one of the sisters whom Zeus hasn’t touched.” I joined in their laughter, suddenly feeling like I belonged. It felt like the seed of an alliance, and perhaps a sisterhood as well.

You know the rest. Hades, Persephone, and Demeter reluctantly agreed to the arrangement while Zeus took the credit for the whole thing. Persephone even grew to like it. For part of the year, she could be a child, free of responsibilities, and for the rest of the year she could be a wife, with all the deeper pleasures that come with that role. In a way, she had the ideal life.

As for me, I worked on building my first alliance by gifting Hera and Hestia with a new loom of my invention. Instead of a vertical loom that required standing all day long, I developed a flat loom that halved the time required to produce a length of cloth. I demonstrated it to them one fine afternoon. Hera was hesitant as she sat on a comfortable bench and fiddled with the wooden pegs that pushed the warp threads up and down. By pushing the appropriate pegs and shooting a slender needle through the offset threads, weaving became more about the creativity of the pattern rather than the effort of manually weaving the threads. It certainly made weaving a lot more rewarding.

“This is a wonderful invention, Athena,” said Hera as she considered the loom. "What a time saver! What other ideas do you have in that head of yours?” Quite a few, as it turned out.

My Inventions

As this is a chronicle of my deeds as well as my missteps, let me now try to stack the scales in my own favor. I have been credited with inventing a vast array of useful objects. A lot of tales are true, some aren’t, and some of my more impractical inventions (the electric lyre) thankfully rest in the garbage pit of history.

The wooden loom I designed for Hera and Hestia is still in use around the world. I was credited with the invention of the chariot, which you now know is incorrect, as both Hades and Helios had one prior to my birth. The bridle is mine, however. In thanks for my solution to his marital woes, Hades gifted me with a pair of splendid mares. Instead of being coal-black like his team, they were milk-white and I promptly named them Ice and Cream (Yes, I might have whispered inspiration to a French chef in the 1600s. You’re welcome!). Ice was a fine sprinter, and there were days when I just didn’t feel like waiting for the horses to be harnessed, so voila!

I hastened off to Hephaestus’s workshop with a design for a lighter, high-speed chariot that my pair could pull. He produced one in wicker that I used to travel over the heavens and Earth. Ice and Cream seemed to float upon the clouds, and there still is nothing like the exhilaration of racing through the morning light in a fast chariot.

The chariot harness itself generated ideas for the yoke and plow. I recruited an ox for my demonstration, thinking that I could not make my beautiful mares pull such a heavy apparatus. The poor ox performed beautifully, thus condemning itself to eternal servitude. I did feel rather bad about that.

After seeing a working farm on Earth, I generated designs for the rake, hoe, irrigation channels, and water wheel in quick succession. The water wheel was a particularly big hit, I must say, as I still see some variations in use today.

What else? A host of musical instruments. The longbow, the hammock, pockets, numbers, mathematics, concrete. The first ship that Jason used to seek the Golden Fleece. Oh, and olive oil. But that is a story in itself.

Athens

Pandora did a beautiful job and after several generations, humanity was well on its way. Humans tended to be a social bunch, and thus began to cluster in hospitable areas. One of the earliest towns was called Attika, and it had aspirations to be much more. It was therefore in need of a little divine patronage to get to the next level.

I had a problem, as well. Ares had grown his first beard and, believe it or not, he was seated as the God of War. Our sibling rivalry had just officially escalated to a high boil. I needed to accomplish something that would earn a throne on Olympus, and not just because of some ridiculous facial hair or family connections. When Zeus called a conclave on Olympus to decide on Attika’s patron, I made sure to attend.

There was only one problem. My other uncle, Poseidon, had arrived earlier and had already spoken with Zeus about Attika. Even I could see the logic in selecting him. Attika was in the process of establishing itself as a seaport and Poseidon would be able to guarantee safe seas in the adjacent waters, making it a preferred stop. Poseidon was way ahead of me in terms of experience, high-profile achievements (helping Zeus defeat Kronos), and he had an entire realm to his name. I, on the other hand, was going to position myself as the scrappy newcomer with great ideas (rake and plow, remember).

When I spoke up in the conclave, Zeus looked both surprised and pleased that I was putting myself forth. Poseidon most definitely did not.

“Athena is far too young and inexperienced,” he growled. Poseidon was a large, impressive figure of a man, dressing in full-length sea-green robes. His bare arms bulged with muscle and were bound with thick, silver armbands. Tiny silver fish swam charmingly through his drifting white locks.

“And yet she has done much already to further human knowledge and self-reliance,” responded my father in a show of not-so-subtle nepotism. “The farms that implemented her irrigation channels and water wheel are producing record harvests. She has proven herself capable enough to try for the position, at least.”

Poseidon subsided with a glower. Although he was older than my father, he was a follower not a leader, and tended to defer to Zeus far too much. I had no qualms about taking my advantages when I could get them.

“Are there any others who wish to sue for this position?” asked Zeus, looking around at the other gods and goddesses. No one spoke. They all already had a number of responsibilities and some frankly just wanted the easy life. “All right, then, this will be a contest between Poseidon, Ruler of the Seas, and Athena, Goddess of Wisdom.”

“So, it will be a contest of arms, then?” Poseidon perked up. He certainly outstripped me in terms of physical strength, but I was fast and had become good enough to challenge Ares, who was centuries younger and faster than Poseidon. Still, it was no guarantee that I would win and I opted for a more strategic approach.

“How about a contest that puts the choice in the Attikan’s hands?” I said. “Each of us will present a gift to the Attikans, and they will choose which they prefer. That way, the choice is theirs and there can be no complaints later.”

Zeus warmed to the idea instantly. I knew that dealing with complaints from humanity bored him to tears and as king of the gods, he couldn’t escape them. There could also be no accusations of favoritism if the decision was taken out of his hands. He leapt at the opening I had provided.

“A wise suggestion, Athena. Let it be so. Let the choice rest with the petitioners themselves.”

A week later, Poseidon and I met with the Attikan delegation on the rocky hill above the city. The delegates were mostly farmers and their wives, dressed simply in brown chitons and led by their king, Cecrops. When Poseidon and I unveiled ourselves to human eyes, they started and prostrated themselves in reverence. Poseidon preened, but I found myself taken aback by the excessive demonstration, so I bade them get back on their feet. After a flowery speech of welcome, Cecrops opened the contest.

Poseidon stalked forward, being the alpha male that he was. He stabbed his trident into the rocky ground with great force. Immediately, water rose and formed a small pool, which then expanded and formed a rivulet that flowed down the rocky hillside. A babble of excited voices arose around us. The ground here was fertile but tended to be on the dry side, so Poseidon had made a wise choice that would enable the people to grow more food. I was dismayed. That, along with the advantages he could provide as the sea king, could sway the decision his way. Poseidon knew that as well as he stood, legs wide apart, smirking.

Cecrops looked delighted and crouched by the pool to taste the water. As soon as he did, his face went blank. He tasted the water again. A wild hope awoke in me.

“The water is salty,” Cecrops finally said, turning to his people.

“Well, of course it is. I’m the king of the seas,” said Poseidon, baffled. I stifled a laugh. Poor Poseidon was either really dense, or knew nothing about the requirements for successful farming. It was my turn now.

With great confidence, I moved towards the people of Attika and knelt gracefully to dig a small hole. From a pocket in my gown, I pulled out a seed that I placed in the hole and then covered with dirt. I then produced a skin of pure water that I drenched the ground with. Placing my hand a few inches above the wet earth, I willed the seed to sprout.

The seed did indeed sprout, turning into a sapling that grew several feet over our heads in record time. It flowered, and small clusters of fruit began to form. When the fruit had ripened to a glorious purple color, I picked one off and handed it to Cecrops to taste. He did so hesitantly, but when he bit in, his face cleared and he smiled. As the murmurs began to rise, I gestured for the rest of the group to pick and taste the fruit as well.

“This is a tree that I have named the olive tree. The wood is suitable for building, and the olive fruits are very nutritious, as they are rich in beneficial oils.” I demonstrated by squeezing a bunch of olives in my hand, releasing a fragrant smell and a few drops of green-gold oil. “It is also good for making cosmetics,” I added for the benefit of the women in the group.

Cecrops drew himself to his full height as the Attikans examined the tree and its fruit. “Divine Lord and Lady, I thank you on behalf of my countrymen for these valuable gifts. I will discuss the matter with my councilors and render a decision shortly. Please partake of the humble food and wine that our women have laid out.” He pointed to a small tent set up a short walk away.

Poseidon and I withdrew with dignity to let them discuss the matter among themselves. When we were seated under the tent and handed our cups of wine, my uncle and I conversed stiltedly, avoiding the topic of the contest entirely.

A short while later, Cecrops led a small group of his councilors to the tent to render their decision.

“We have selected the goddess Athena to be our patron goddess. Although the spring brings valuable water to this land, the olive tree can be used in a multitude of ways. I thank you, my Lord Poseidon, for thinking us worthy of your patronage.” The entire group bowed low towards my uncle, who was turning red in embarrassment. Exultation exploded within me, although I made certain not to let it show.

“I wish Attika well. My niece will be a worthy patron,” he replied in a strangled tone before vanishing abruptly.

I turned to face my new people, eyes glowing and holding out my hands, palms upwards. “I am honored to be your patron goddess. I pledge to you that I will take care of Attika’s interests as if they were my own.”

All went down to their knees reverently as one. That’s when I felt it: A surge of raw energy, making me much, much stronger than I had ever been. I gasped in delight, staggering back a half-step from the impact of the surge. So this is what it felt like—the power that flowed from worship.

Ascension

After my victory at Attika, I was finally seated as a full-fledged goddess on Olympus. I will spare you the details, but it was sweet to be acknowledged as a power in my own right. Zeus was overflowing with pride as the second of his children joined the original six Olympians on the dais of the Agora. After he had seated me on my crystal throne, he presented me with a truly royal gift: his aegis, which was a metallic gold snakeskin impervious to weapons. It made my old engraved breastplate redundant, and was far more comfortable to wear. I thanked Zeus with genuine pleasure.

To my relief, Poseidon got over his disappointment quickly and congratulated me sincerely on my ascension. Ares tried not to glower at me too much from his throne, while the other goddesses gave me kisses of blessing on my brow. Aphrodite’s came with an appraising glance and a wink. I blushed, as even I was not immune to her otherworldly sensuality. Hephaestus promised me a brilliant new shield, a gift which I happily accepted with a kiss on the cheek. As he turned away, I noticed that his limp seemed more pronounced than before, but I was so engrossed in the ceremony that I quickly forgot about it.

After the ceremony, I went to visit my grandmother to tell her about my recent adventures. As a newly ascendant goddess, I felt a strong need to appear dignified and responsible in public. But we were all mere children to Gaia, so it felt good to sit cross-legged on the floor of her cave, spinning my tales with all the delight and energy of a youngster. Gaia rarely spoke back to me, but I knew she was listening because the rocks on the floor would rock gently when she found me amusing.

Gaia’s ascension gift to me appeared a day later when I awoke. A rather large, speckled white owl was sitting on my bedpost, staring at me. It introduced itself in bird language as Glaukos, and told me it was to be my messenger. I never did figure out whether Glaukos was male or female, but I’ll refer to him as male because the name sounded so. I believe he was Gaia’s prototype of all owls, for he was much larger and heavier than the norm (the statues and paintings showing him standing on my shoulder were an absolute impossibility). Glaukos took off majestically with my very first message, which was a hearty thank you to my grandmother. He turned out to be an invaluable gift, as he enabled me to communicate freely to my network without relying on the services of Hermes.

The most touching gift of all came from my people. The citizens of Attika had voted to change the name of their city to Athens in my honor. I felt the pressure of such a tremendous gift, for now I would need to prove myself worthy of their trust. Thus, I applied myself with enthusiasm to the task of improving the city’s status and power.

In all modesty, I can say that I succeeded. Athens soon became one of the greatest city-states in Greece, growing in economic power as well as becoming a center of education and the arts. I can’t take credit for the innovative concepts that flowed from Athens, but I can say that I helped build the foundation that allowed such ideas to flourish. I used my power of transformation to cloak myself in the guise of a mortal to walk my city, observing silently and intervening when necessary. It sometimes only took a sentence or two to spark a new thought or approach. It came as a surprise to me that, though I was a noted inventor myself, I got the most satisfaction from supporting—and occasionally prodding—others on their creative journeys.

Of course, along with supporting and growing the city, I had also become responsible for answering the prayers of the Athenians themselves. Most of my prayers came from the leaders and merchant class of the city, asking for the wisdom to run their businesses efficiently. A shocking number of them involved requests to stamp out the competition, and those I sometimes punished as a lesson. Eventually, the population of Athens grew so great that I became overwhelmed, unable to handle the volume of requests that flooded my mind constantly. It was Zeus who advised me to focus on the prayers that created the highest and lowest buzz in my mind. These outliers tended to come from the most desperate people, and those I made sure to address. Everyone else tended to be on their own and, frankly, they usually got their wishes though their own efforts. So there you have it: an inconvenient truth.

The only unfortunate side effect from all of the changes in my life was that I once again put aside my goal of vengeance against Zeus, and focused on Athens for several centuries. For someone who was renowned for being logical, disciplined, and strategic, I did seem to have a problem with executing that particular goal. Freud had a field day with that one, believe me.

Changes

Centuries passed, and I was now an established and well-respected goddess in Greece. Due to improvements in farming techniques, medicine, and good old-fashioned sex, humanity had multiplied and spread all across the Mediterranean, taking our worship along with it. The Bronze Age was in full swing, thanks to Hephaestus sharing the secrets of the forge with his followers.

Things evolved at a much slower pace on Olympus, however. New gods and goddesses were born. Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, and Dionysus joined us on the Olympian Council. Divine fashions tended towards the short end of the scale for both males and females. Apollo took things a little too far, though, because when he sat down at council, he flashed everyone in sight. Aphrodite was the only one who openly admired the view. (I did so much more discreetly.) My father continued to betray his wife while Hera turned a blind eye, thankful that he was finally sparing her his attentions. Unfortunately, everyone has limits and Hera reached hers when Zeus ran out of divine and semi-divine females to impregnate and started on mortal women.

“Have you no dignity at all?” she confronted Zeus one evening at a family meal. “It’s one thing futtering the females of Olympus, who are at least of your own race! But humans? Don’t you remember that women are my creation? How dare you humiliate me in this manner?”

I sat frozen at the table, my hands in my lap, while various siblings edged towards the courtyard.

“Mind your own business, Wife,” Zeus growled in embarrassment, even as he continued to plow through his meal.

“I will not,” Hera spat out. “I am the Goddess of Marriage and Family, and you are a disgrace to both institutions.”

I decided that my siblings had the right idea and excused myself quietly. As I departed, I heard Hera say, “I promise you this. None of your human women will be safe from me. As their creator, they should have the decency, or at least the brains, to deny you in my name. Such blatant disregard of my honor will be punished.”

As I walked out into the warm evening, I pitied Hera deeply. Zeus had forced her into marriage by tricking and then raping her. Not a hopeful start to any marriage, but he had done nothing to make up for such a terrible start. It was clear enough to me that Hera didn’t love Zeus one bit, but stayed with him out of a sense of duty. I couldn’t blame her for exploding now that he was interfering with her worshippers, just as I couldn’t blame the human women for giving into Zeus. He was a god after all, and he usually fooled them into sex by taking on ridiculous forms. I had heard a rumor that he did so because Aphrodite had cursed him to be unlovable in retaliation for forcing her marriage to Hephaestus.

My thoughts then turned towards Hephaestus, who had become a real friend thanks to our shared love of creation. He and Hestia were the most decent Olympians, both with strong moral centers, and I admired them both for it. My footsteps turned automatically towards his forge, which was still glowing in the distance. Hephaestus’s marriage was as bad as ever, and it was no secret that Aphrodite did not consider their marriage vows binding. So he tended to be in his forge more often than not. I often visited with him to chat at the end of a long day. All topics of conversation were welcome, except for those involving his marriage.

When I reached the doors of the forge, Hephaestus was pounding on a new type of sword, his hammer blows forceful and rhythmic. His focus was so complete that he didn’t notice my arrival. I got the opportunity to observe him unnoticed and was shocked. I had somehow missed the fact that his body had changed over the centuries, becoming stockier. His back and arms now rippled with thick muscles, when they had been reasonably lean before. More disturbing were the changes in his face. His brow seemed to have expanded somehow, giving him a rougher aspect. He had been quietly attractive once, but no longer. I cleared my throat, announcing my presence.

“Ah, Athena, good evening! Give me one minute to finish,” he said over his shoulder, his resonant voice still intact. Moving over to a barrel of water, he plunged the sword into the water, causing a cloud of steam to fill his workshop. After a moment, he put the sword on a rack to dry and wiped his filthy hands on a rag.

“May I offer you some wine?” he inquired, his golden eyes twinkling at me. I softened. His face and body may have changed, but his soul was as generous and honorable as ever.

“Not for me, thank you,” I said. “I just escaped dinner with the parents.”

Hephaestus chuckled and found another rag to wipe a stool down for me. His limp was definitely much worse than before. “Better you than me! I usually find excuses for Mother’s family dinners.”

“I wish you would attend,” I said as I seated myself on the stool. “Those dinners wouldn’t be quite so painful with you to interject some humor. Their claws were out again tonight.”

Hephaestus shrugged and pulled up a stool of his own. “Mother and I have never been close, so I don’t feel the need to pretend familial affection. So, what’s been occupying you lately?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Nothing unusual. I’m aiding in some negotiations between the Athenians and the Cretans. I’m supposed to intercede with the Cretan gods to sway the negotiations, but I don’t know that much about them. Time for some research. What about you? What were you working on just now?”

“Ah, now that is a real experiment. I’m playing with iron.”

“Iron?” I said in surprise. “But it’s softer than bronze.”

“Unrefined iron is, but I’ve discovered if you beat and fold it repeatedly, it makes it stronger. I don’t know if this will go anywhere, but it’s fun for the moment.”

“Hephaestus?” I said hesitantly. “Has anything changed with you? Your limp is worse.”

He sighed. “So you noticed. A lot of things have been changing. Wait here a moment.” He stood and went to the back of his workshop, returning with a wrapped bundle.

“Look at this,” he said, handing the bundle to me. I unwrapped it, dying with curiosity. It was a crudely carved figurine about the right size for a personal shrine. It featured a burly male figure holding a smith’s hammer, an anvil beside him. One ankle was swollen and misshapen.

“It’s supposed to be me,” Hephaestus said as he sat down again. “These are everywhere now in blacksmith workshops.”

My mind whirled into action. The power of worship... I gasped in horror. “Are you changing to match this form?”

“Clever Athena,” said Hephaestus with a grim smile. “Yes, I believe humans are changing me into what they perceive me to be.”

“Hephaestus!” I reached out to touch his arm in dismay. “I’m so sorry! Is there anything you can do?”

“I’ve been trying to reverse it, but the power of worship is potent. I’ve tried the power of will, of healing, but thus far, nothing has worked.” Hephaestus gave me a shrewd look. “You do realize that it’s happening to you too, don’t you?” His gaze dropped to my waist. I recoiled, offended. Really! I might have been eating a little more than usual, but I still looked fine.

“It’s in your face, as well. Your eyes have turned fully silver. Your face has rounded, your jawline has softened, and your nose has lengthened slightly as well,” Hephaestus blushed even under the soot. “You look gentler, more mature. Womanly.”

I shot to my feet. Gaia! No mirror in sight. I walked to the water barrel instead and looked in. Hephaestus brought a torch so that I was better lit. Shocked, I traced the line of my jaw. He was right. How could I have missed this? I generally only glanced at a mirror to make sure my robes were straight before shooting out the door. My lack of feminine vanity was killing me!

“It has to be that stupid statue!” The Athenians had commissioned a massive gold and ivory statue of me for the newly built Parthenon. The sculptor had been a little creative (especially with the strange headdress), but I’ve always encouraged creativity, so I smiled when they unveiled it. The statue was awe inspiring, and thus served my purpose. But now that I put some thought into it, the statue had a matronly figure, with a thicker waist and a rounded, serious face. And larger breasts. I looked down automatically. Yes, that too.

“Well, this is just wrong,” I said to no one in particular. Behind me, Hephaestus gave a snort of laughter.

“You look wonderful, Athena. Don’t worry about that. I’m the one with the problem. This ankle of mine is probably going to turn itself backwards soon. I saw a figurine carved that way. Creative license!” he chuckled, shaking his head as he limped back to his stool. “If that happens, I want you to break it and reset it properly!” I paled.

“What do we do? Hire different sculptors and flood the market, perhaps?”

“A publicity campaign?” quipped Hephaestus with a crooked grin. “Better looking gods for a better tomorrow!”

I wanted to scream. “Will you be serious, please? This is a real problem.”

Hephaestus sobered. “Athena, perhaps this is only right. Nothing comes free. We depend on our worshippers for strength and power. There is always a cost associated with taking. This is it. In a way, they own us now.”

I recoiled. “I was strong before I became patroness of Athens.”

“Not like you are now. Nowhere close. Be honest with yourself. Could you give up all this power?”

I shook my head silently.

“Neither can I. But we don’t have to sit here and accept this. I intend to keep investigating ways to halt the transformation. Are you with me?”

I took his strong hand. “Of course. I don’t want to become a fat sow.”

Love

Dear readers, I must admit that I deliberately skipped over a major chapter in my life. For centuries, I lived happily as a maiden, enjoying the autonomy and the respect accorded to a maiden goddess. Nevertheless, when I finally became patroness of Athens, I had also reached another milestone, which was the fulfillment of my original oath to Gaia. At first, nothing changed and I went about my business as usual. But as Athens prospered and tribal warfare became less frequent, my mind wandered down some unusual paths.

I started to notice the physicality of the males around me. Apollo was clearly the best looking, but unfortunately he couldn’t carry on a conversation unless it was about him. I enjoyed the view, as it were, but definitely not the mind. I also didn’t think that he had the spine to violate Zeus’s edict with me. Ares was another story. He definitely had the courage to defy Zeus, and had the looks to boot. He sported the Greek ideal, which was a subtly muscled body. His beard had come in fully but the rest of him was smooth and golden. He also tended to be closed-mouthed and held to a strict code of behavior—both of which I found appealing. As far as I knew, he had never taken a woman against her will, which was a rare trait in Olympus. Too bad that he resented me so.

Poseidon’s looks turned me off completely, as did his attitude towards women. He was the ultimate chauvinist. Hermes was a nice figure of a man, but he was my father’s creature through and through, and would never dare to defy Zeus. Dionysus would, but that was because he was an idiot youth that I couldn’t stand. Hephaestus had the finest spirit of all of them, but I valued him too much as a friend and brother, to jeopardize that in any way. Finally, I was definitely not desperate enough to have an affair with a lowly human, so there I was, resigned to an eternity of curiosity that would never be satisfied.

Then one day, Hades came to Olympus, escorting Persephone back to her mother for the next six months. My gaze lighted on him in sudden surprise as he helped Persephone down from his chariot with a half-smile, a quiet and elegant man with a touch of severity that echoed mine. He was hardly ever on Olympus, and was not dependent on Zeus. Before you judge me by your twenty-first century standards, you must realize that the only forbidden relationship in those days was between parent and child. Relationships between uncles and nieces were frowned upon, but my own father had already violated that by then… The only real problem I faced was that he was my half-sister’s husband and I had been instrumental in getting them together. I shot a regretful look at him, before turning my gaze away to the sight of Demeter as she hugged her daughter in greeting.

Hades slowly became the itch that I couldn’t scratch. He popped into my mind at odd moments, disrupting my focus. The more I tried not to think of him, the more I failed. For the first time in my long life, I experienced the delicious thrill of a crush. What can I say? I was a late bloomer.

Discomfort started to eat at me, so I stayed away from gatherings that Persephone attended, pleading an overabundance of work. I would send away my handmaidens, and lie on my couch pulling in my bare feet under my long peplos, heart thumping slowly as I contemplated taking a bite of forbidden fruit. It was on one such night that my resolve finally collapsed, and I gave in to temptation.

I materialized in front of Hades’ villa in the Underworld. As before, the fireball hung from the ceiling of the cavern, and the moss was soft underfoot. This time, however, there were a couple of nymphs laying a simple meal in the courtyard of Hades’ house. My ardor was instantly quenched as reality intruded. The nymphs looked up and saw me. One glided forward to greet me while the other ran to get the master of the house. By the time I was seated under the false tree by the polite nymph, I was sure that my face was flaming red. My mind ground to a halt as I tried to come up with a reasonable excuse for my visit.

Hades walked out of the interior of his villa and greeted me courteously, although there was an undercurrent of puzzlement.

“Athena, what a pleasant surprise. Is everything all right with Persephone?”

I cringed, now thoroughly embarrassed. “She’s perfectly fine. In fact, she’s at a gathering at Hestia’s villa right now,” I babbled.

Hades looked downcast. “I’m glad, although I do miss her deeply. Still, she is an Earth goddess, and needs to be out of the Underworld to thrive. She doesn’t have much company down here except for the dead.”

Compassion bloomed within me, as it was clear to me that Hades needed Persephone more than she needed him. I would have liked to take his hand to comfort him, but didn’t quite trust myself to. However, I did have a decent excuse now.

“That’s why I’m here. I wanted to make sure that you weren’t too lonely without her.”

Hades started, managing to look both surprised and pleased at the same time. “How kind. Could I tempt you to sit down to a simple meal with me?”

“You certainly can.” I smiled, more confident now that this had just become a familial visit, and not an aborted seduction attempt. I had not counted on Hades’ particular talents, however. As Lord of the Underworld, he had long been adept at sorting truth from lies. He shot me penetrating looks every now and then through the meal as we chatted. He gave me another such when it came time for me to depart.

“Come back whenever you like,” he murmured, taking my hand in farewell. “I enjoy your company.” My heart gave a little lurch at that, but I was proud that I was able to paste a polite smile on my face and withdraw my hand. Unfortunately, that seemingly harmless little touch had told Hades everything he needed to know. His eyes widened even as his face went still and he stepped back to let me dematerialize.

I was essentially one big knot when I arrived back at my villa. Wanting to be alone, I sent my handmaid Iris away, telling her that I would see to myself. I took down my hair and curled back on my couch, sighing in relief, but also disappointed that I hadn’t the courage to see my intent through. Still, I reasoned, if it didn’t feel right, it wasn’t meant to be.

Time passed quickly, and it was suddenly midway through Persephone’s time on Olympus. Hades had braved Demeter’s resentful eye to visit Persephone unexpectedly in her mother’s house. After bidding her farewell, he stopped by Hestia’s house to greet the rest of the goddesses, who had gathered there for some weaving and chatter.

“Well met, Ladies,” he bowed as we clustered under Hestia’s oak tree. “You are all looking wonderful.” Titters broke out all around. His dark gaze rested briefly on me before moving to the others.

“And how is the lovely Persephone today?” asked Aphrodite, sending him a mischievous glance as he took a seat on a marble bench.

“As well watched as ever,” replied Hades wryly to general laughter, shrugging his indigo cloak off his shoulders, letting it puddle behind him. Underneath, he was bare-armed and in a short, belted chiton (although of respectable length, to my disappointment). “It was getting colder by the minute, although the sun was overhead.”

“Well, we’re glad that you are here to visit,” said Hestia graciously as she poured him a cup of wine. “We don’t see enough of you. How are things in the Underworld?” Conversation went on as I bent my head over my wood carving of a new concept: a narrow, flat-bottomed boat that could be towed upriver by animals.

“We’re out of almonds and grapes,” Hestia announced, starting to wriggle out from under the flat loom. Hades bounced up.

“Let me get them, sister,” he said, bending to peck her on the cheek. Hestia settled back, looking pleased at the attention. “Athena, perhaps you can show me where the kitchen is.”

I nodded, putting my carving aside and brushing away the wood curls caught on my gown. I escorted him a short distance to the kitchen door, at the back of the villa. When we were inside, I reached up to a shelf to pull down a jar of almonds, and turned to hand it to him.

Hades took the jar, considered it for a moment as if deciding, then placed it on the windowsill and pulled me into his arms. I gasped in shock as his mouth descended on mine. My lips parted without resistance as his tongue swept in and rasped against mine. I clung to him as my dead-of-night longings finally took form. Hades angled his head to deepen his kiss, one hand coming up to tangle in my hair. Exhilaration bloomed along with a tinge of fear that someone would see us. Hades finally pulled back to regard me with his dark eyes.

“If you want me, come to my home tonight,” he whispered in my ear before releasing me. He picked up the almond jar, gave me a crooked smile, and walked out. Lightheaded from the shock and the force of my desire, I slumped onto a kitchen bench, fingertips rising to press against my tingling lips. By Gaia, my first kiss! Rising to my feet, I at least had the presence of mind to find a jar of raisins before going back out to join the others.

Night came to Olympus, and I strode about my garden, fiddling with the flute in my hands. I was still caught between exhilaration and fear. Going to Hades would put me at risk of being evicted as a maiden goddess, and perhaps being trapped under a mountain for eternity. Zeus would probably go after his brother with thunderbolts. Persephone would be heartbroken. Possibly. I still wasn’t certain that she truly loved Hades, or just wanted to be his queen.

There was everything to lose by going to Hades, and nothing to gain—except to satisfy my damned curiosity and thwart my father’s will. Nobody has the right to dictate what any woman does with her own body, except for herself. That conviction above all took me from Olympus to the Underworld.

When I arrived in front of Hades’ villa, the cavern was dark. Instead of the bright fireball from my earlier visits, there were a few pinpoints of light above me that simulated stars. Only the villa itself was brightly lit, glowing like a precious jewel in the dark.

I walked towards it, the soft moss under my feet absorbing the sounds of my footsteps. Though the villa was dotted with glowing braziers, it felt deserted with no servants coming forward to greet me as before. When I entered the courtyard, a shadowy figure moved out from the darkness beneath the tree and into the flickering light.

Hades stepped towards me wordlessly before taking one hand in both of his and raising it to his lips. He turned it over unexpectedly, dropping a soft kiss on my palm before folding my fingers over it. I shivered at the intimacy of that kiss, the hairs on my arms raising in response.

Hades broke the silence first. “I love Persephone deeply,” he said, his eyes intent on mine, “and I will never leave her. But I long for you... Still, if your heart is troubled, you should leave now— before we do something that can never be undone.”

Hades was giving me one last opportunity for a graceful exit, but I did not need it. I had already made my decision. I was ready for this. I stepped forward and lifted one hand to his cheek, looking deeply into his dark eyes. And then I tilted my face up to claim his lips. I felt the dam break within him, as his arms came around me and pulled me in tight. His hand raised to thread itself into my hair as our kiss deepened. When we pulled apart moments later, it was only to move towards the steps that led up into the villa, our eyes never leaving one another. What happened next will forever stay between Hades and me.

I went to the Underworld several times before Persephone began preparing for her trip home. It was the perfect place for an affair, because Hades controlled every aspect of it. No word would ever get out, and it was shielded from all living eyes—even Helios, who could see all of Olympus and Earth as he drove his chariot across the sky.

Even when I was back in Olympus and trying to focus on Athens, I longed for Hades with a physical hunger. I counted the moments until I was back with him. To his credit, he never took me into his marital bed, but to one of the other rooms where we would stay until day was breaking on Olympus. I’d had no idea the depth of passion that Hades could bring to the bedroom, as his normal demeanor was of such restrained elegance. Luckily for me, all restraint dropped off at the bedchamber door and he turned out to be an excellent teacher in all things.

I took the same precautions that mortal women took to avoid pregnancy. They worked just as well for me as they did for mortal women—when Hades arrived at Olympus to take Persephone home, I knew that I was pregnant.

Consequences

I had the power to terminate my pregnancy, but that never crossed my mind. Partly because I was still enraptured by Hades, and partially because I was awed by the little ball of fire I felt growing within me. After a last, sidelong glance from Hades as he stepped up into his chariot behind Persephone, I withdrew to my villa to consider my situation. There was no way that I was going to lose my position, so my simple objective was to deliver my child in an unobtrusive way and find a way to raise him or her without losing my status as a maiden goddess. I buried my head in my hands. There had to be a way. I just needed to talk it through with someone I could trust.

I ended up back in Gaia’s cave, pouring my story out to her. Her first response was unexpected.

“Was it worth it?”

“Yes,” I replied fervently. “Every minute of it.”

“So you want to raise the child, but you don’t want anyone to think it’s yours.”

“Correct.”

“That’s easy enough. I’ve had thousands of children. What’s one more? You can shift the child over to me and I can incubate it until it’s ready to be born.”

“You can do that?” I exclaimed in disbelief. The rocks vibrated gently as the goddess chuckled.

“I am Gaia, the eternal mother. I can do anything I want.”

“And then you’ll give the child back to me to raise?”

“Yes, it will be your adopted child. You will just need to decide on a story as to how that comes about.”

I sat on the floor of the cave thinking through her suggestion, one hand resting on my midsection, where a tiny fire burned. It was a solid idea, but it changed one assumption that I had made: that I could carry and bond with this child of mine. Letting someone else do the carrying should have been a huge benefit. Instead, I found myself resisting the idea strongly. Gaia sensed that too, as I felt a huge, invisible hand stroke my hair in the darkness, much as a mother would.

“You must not make any hasty decisions. Think on it and let me know what you want to do. You are a worthy great granddaughter and I love you dearly. This new descendant would be as dear to me.”

That night, as I curled around that little fire in my belly, I allowed myself to think of the alternative: Carrying the child myself, but hiding its presence from all; the inevitable discovery; the punishment for not only myself, but for Hades as well. I would probably be allowed to raise my child, but it would eventually need to be fostered out, at which point I would lose him or her anyway. A tear overflowed and ran down my cheek unnoticed, as I wrapped my arms about my abdomen. An adoptive child would think they were unwanted, but it would be safe and I could love it openly, with pride. And I could tell the child the truth when he or she was old enough to understand my quandary.

Looking back, I know that I was being selfish in the moment, but as Erichthonius wound up having a good life, I believe I made the right choice. Decision made, I started to concoct the backstory needed for me to adopt a child.

Hephaestus’s eyes dropped instantly to my midsection when I told him that I was with child. Outside his forge, Olympus was dark and quiet.

“Who?” he asked in quiet disbelief. “Was it a god?”

“It doesn’t matter who it was,” I replied firmly. “I’m the problem in this equation, not him.”

“Not so. He had a responsibility to stand by you now,” he swore, deliberately keeping his voice low. He stood, limped to the doorway, and looked around to see if anybody was in sight. He closed the door and came back to sit beside me again.

“All right,” he sighed. “What is this plan that you and Gaia have come up with?”

I went through the plan, watching him blanch as I detailed his role in it. “Well, at least it doesn’t make me look like a ravenous, uncontrolled rapist,” he joked weakly.

“I know that I’m asking too much from you,” I said. “But there is no one else I can turn to.”

He dropped his face into his hands and rubbed it furiously, inadvertently leaving streaks of soot on his face. Then he straightened. “I will help, of course. But don’t you think the story is a tad…unbelievable?”

“Gaia swears that it’s possible. She is incredibly fertile,” I said.

Hephaestus stood and limped to look into the dying embers of his forge. “All right, then. I suppose that it will have to start tonight.”

He picked up and regarded a pair of tongs sitting on the edge of the wall between him and the furnace. Then he placed it back on the wall, still with his back to me.

“When you thought of…choosing someone, did you ever consider me?”

I cringed, belatedly realizing that I’d been so focused on myself and the baby that I had spared no thought for him or his feelings. I ran through a list of polite responses in my head, but something within me insisted that I owed him the truth.

“I did consider you briefly,” I answered. “But I value your friendship too highly to risk losing it for sex. You are my one true friend here on Olympus, Hephaestus. You are my brother.”

He nodded as if that was what he was expecting, and turned to face me. “I will always be your friend, Athena, even though after tonight, we may not be able to see each other as much.” He limped back and sat back down beside me, then leaned forward to take my hand.

“I’m not sure if Aphrodite’s children are mine,” he confessed, looking me straight in the eye. “Every single time I look at them, I wonder. That has colored my relationship with them. I know your child isn’t mine, but I vow that I will love him or her as if it were. I can, because it is yours.”

Tears stung my eyes as I reached forward impulsively and hugged Hephaestus with all my strength. “Thank you.”

He patted my back awkwardly and pulled away. “Do you know if it is a boy or a girl?”

I shook my head. “It’s still too unformed.”

“Any preference?”

“Well, a boy would be easier,” I said wryly. “But I think I would prefer a girl…”

“I know I don’t get a vote, but I would like a girl as well,” he said with a half-smile. Then the smile faded as he took a deep breath and looked around his workshop. “I’ll start moving my things down to my workshop on Thera immediately. Zeus will be coming for me soon, and I might as well prepare for him. Shall we get on with it?”

Guilt for the sacrifice that I had asked from Hephaestus was already gnawing at me, but I hadn’t thought of a better option, so I nodded at him, getting to my feet. Hephaestus stood and took off his leather apron, laying it over the furnace wall as he started to unbuckle the leather kilt underneath.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, running for the door, yanking it open before hurtling out. Hephaestus came after me, running reasonably fast even with his limp, but I eluded him easily, leaving him behind.

When I reached my villa, I was disheveled, my robes askew and my hair half tumbling down. Iris saw me first, eyes going wide as her hands flew to cover her mouth.

“Lady, what has happened?”

“Hephaestus… He tried…to rape me,” I ground out between pants, as I bent over trying to catch my breath. Lito came running when she heard Iris start wailing. I made a calming gesture to them. “I fought him off. He didn’t succeed in…penetrating me. He ejaculated on my garments and I wiped it off with a rag. Then I kicked him in the testicles and ran.”

“Lady, you must tell your parents immediately,” Lito implored, placing a concerned hand on my arm.

“No, no. There was no harm done, and I won’t be going anywhere near him again, believe me!” I answered, knowing perfectly well that the news would be all over Olympus in the morning.

Sure enough, Hera swept into my bedchamber first thing, and gathered my half-asleep self into her arms.

“Oh, my dear child! What you have endured at my worthless son’s hands. I simply can’t understand how Hephaestus could have lost his mind so! Leave it all to Zeus. He’ll take care of him,” she growled.

I shot upright in her embrace. “My father knows?”

“Yes, we were both told this morning. He is on his way to confront Hephaestus.” I sprang out of bed, yanking on a fresh chiton over my nightdress.

“I have to be there,” I said urgently as I belted my chiton. Hera tried to stop me, spouting something about emotional distress, but I was already out the door by then. I flew towards Hephaestus’s workshop at a run.

I saw Zeus’s thunderbolts from a distance, flashing blue and white as he roared, forcing Hephaestus towards the edge of Olympus. Hephaestus deflected most of the bolts with a large polished shield, but some of them struck him on the thighs and calves, raising sizzling black burns. The smell of burnt flesh was on the air.

Hephaestus saw me coming over Zeus’s shoulder, and then swung around and leapt off the edge of Olympus, dropping his shield as he did so. Zeus’s temper did not falter, as he too rushed to the edge and continued to fling thunderbolts over it. By this time, I had reached him and wrapped my arms around his waist, hauling him back bodily from the edge.

“Let him go, Father! He has been punished enough for his insolence and he will not try anything like it again…” I panted, not daring to loosen my grasp on him.

“Athena, my child.” Zeus twisted around in my arms to face me and wrapped me in a bear-like hug, stroking my hair to comfort. “Are you unharmed?”

“Quite unharmed. He didn’t manage to…do anything,” I answered, blushing at even hinting about sex to my father.

“I will see him in Tartarus for this,” Zeus hissed into my hair. “Assaulting a maiden goddess is a sin against us all.”

“He has been punished enough,” I said again wearily. “I did some damage to him myself, so he will not dare approach me again. I don’t want this story to get out, Father,” I continued, lifting my eyes to his and letting them tear up. “My reputation would be in tatters.”

Zeus groaned, his high color receding. “Of course not, my darling. No one will dare repeat this story under pain of death.”

Of course they repeated it, ad nauseam. My reputation survived intact, but Hephaestus’s was damaged forever. I sent Glaukos to search for Hephaestus on Thera, and he returned with the word that Hephaestus was recovering from Zeus’s attack and was reopening his forge in the heart of Thera’s volcano.

With her husband banished to Earth, Aphrodite no longer felt the need to pay lip service to the moral strictures on Olympus, and discreetly started an affair with Ares. I couldn’t tell if she was serious about him, but I knew for certain that Ares’ affections were seriously engaged. It was in the way his eyes rested on her. The only other time I’d seen that gentleness was when he’d looked at Pallas.

Olympus itself rapidly returned to equilibrium, giving me the opportunity to execute the next stage of the plan.

Erichthonius

As soon as the scandal on Olympus had died down, I snuck away to Gaia’s cave to transfer my baby into her care. Enough time had passed that I was just starting to show a little under the loose peplos that I girdled high under my breasts.

As I entered the cave, Gaia sealed the entrance behind me for my safety and privacy. I kept walking in the darkness until I reached my preferred spot.

“Welcome, granddaughter. Are you resolved to give me your child, then?” came the low, familiar voice in my head.

“I am, grandmother. What must I do?” With a low rumble, a trench resembling a grave opened in front of me.

“Lie within my body and cover yourself with earth. Then, you must push the child out of your body and into mine.”

Discomfited, I disrobed and lay down naked in the trench and moved the dirt back into place over me. The earth that surrounded me was surprisingly dry and warm.

“Make sure to surround the child with a shield to protect it,” Gaia instructed. “And then push it gently through your skin.”

I gulped. Now that the moment of truth was at hand, I was having second and third thoughts. To her credit, Gaia went silent, leaving me to move forward at my own pace. I ran my hands over my midsection, realizing that this was the last moment that my child would truly belong only to me. I shed no tears as I lay sheltered within Gaia, holding my child within me for the last time. The parallels between me and my mother were obvious and it felt right, like a chain that linked my child to me, to her, and to my ancestors all the way back to Gaia. And it was there, entombed in the dirt, that I discovered the truest love of all.

I don’t know how long I lay there, shielded within Gaia’s body, but eventually I came out of my trance and started the slow process of shifting my child from my center to my right side. When my child reached the side wall, I placed my hands on either side, ready to squeeze when the time came. I took a deep breath and pushed hard. A large bubble formed on my waist, the skin stretching painfully. Another deep breath, another push, another wave of pain and I used my hands to pinch off the bubble. In a sudden burst of pain, my child popped free of me, wrapped in a shield made of my own skin. Gaia immediately folded tightly around it, wrapping it in layers of dark earth, making a soft cradle for it. I felt a gentle, healing stroke on my ragged, bleeding side as I lay there, drained, and it was over.

With a sense of relief, I realized that I could feel the warmth of life when I touched the little ball next to me. He or she was fine! I shifted onto my side to face it, resting one hand on it as I slept.

I came back to the cave many times to visit my child as it grew. Gaia would unseal the cave as I approached. I would reach down deep into the earth to touch my baby as Gaia hummed a lullaby around us. One wondrous day, my child touched me back through the wall of its capsule. I was thrown. Male! Visions of a golden-haired daughter retreated, to be replaced with a dark-haired boy who looked like a miniature version of Hades. I gave my imagined daughter a fond farewell, but the new reality of a boy excited me just as much.

It took a year for my boy to gestate. The skin of his capsule grew thin as he expanded in size. Eventually, I was able to feel his limbs easily through the film of his enclosure. When he was finally ready to be born, Gaia and I began working through the last, most critical stage of our conspiracy.

When we were next seated in council on Mount Olympus, the Titan Astraeus approached. The council members welcomed him stiffly. Though the Titans had been defeated in the Titanomachy and were technically at peace with us, distrust was still rampant.

“I bring you word from Gaia, our great mother. She is about to give birth to the Olympian Hephaestus’s child and wishes for one of you to take the child to raise.” Aphrodite shot upright on her throne, looking rattled.

Zeus glanced at Aphrodite, looking irritated. “What does this child have to do with any of us? Hephaestus has been banished from Olympus. If Gaia names this child as his, it is his responsibility, not ours.”

“Mother Gaia was accidentally impregnated as a result of the goddess Athena’s actions. Thus, she shares responsibility for this child.”

I sat with my spine straight, as all eyes swung towards me. “What is this drivel?” I sniffed. “I have never done anything to Gaia.”

“That is not quite true, Lady” said Astraeus. “When you wiped Hephaestus’s seed off your garments after he assaulted you a year ago, it fell to Earth and impregnated Gaia. That was not her will, and must be made right.”

“That is ridiculous!” I said, continuing the act. “Such a thing is not even possible!”

“Mother Gaia has always been most fertile.” Astraeus’s gaze swept around the circle of gods and goddesses. “Will any of you gainsay her word?”

“Of course not,” I said. “I would never impugn my great grandmother’s honor. If this child is truly a result of my rejection of Hephaestus, I will make it right. If he doesn’t take responsibility for raising this child, then I will.”

Astraeus nodded to me. “That is acceptable. I will visit Hephaestus and ask for his decision.”

“He resides on the island of Thera,” I said. “Take my owl Glaukos with you and send him back with the outcome of your meeting.” Astraeus bowed once again and took his leave.

Zeus stood from his throne, looking thunderous. “I should have imprisoned Hephaestus under that damned volcano of his.” Aphrodite looked away. Everyone else was silent. I just kept my face still and tried to appear serene, like a virtuous marble statue.

Glaukos winged back the next day with the planned response. Thus, I announced to the council that I would be leaving immediately to take the child from Gaia. Aphrodite looked mutinous but (fortunately!) did not offer to take the child. Hestia volunteered to find a nurse for the child, an offer that I accepted gratefully.

“Do you even know if the child is a boy or girl?” boomed Zeus, still in a mood. I allowed that I did not, but that it didn’t matter to me. I would do my duty and care for the child as if it were my own blood. Aphrodite shot me a sudden glance at that, as if a thought had occurred to her, but she kept her peace.

On the appointed day, my handmaidens and I approached Gaia’s cave. She did not unseal it for us. Instead, the ground heaved under our feet. Iris and Lito paled and grabbed each other’s hands, but I was proud that they held their own. The ground split to reveal a naked toddler, pink-skinned with a dark cap of hair.

I gasped. He was beautiful! He had inherited Hades’ violet eyes and dark hair. I bent down to pick him up. And heavy too! He smiled up at me, one pudgy hand reaching up to grab the bronze brooch that held the shoulder of my peplos up. He recognized my touch, I was sure of it. Shifting his weight onto one hip, I regarded my son with wide eyes, absorbing the totality of him. Then I glanced up at Iris and Lito, who smiled fondly back at me.

“His name shall be Erichthonius.”

The child Eric was welcomed on Mount Olympus for my sake. Zeus took to him well enough and after a close look, Aphrodite turned to me and wondered why he didn’t have his father’s golden eyes. I shrugged, and she left it at that. The years passed without incident, and the toddler grew into a precocious boy. I never went back to the Underworld, even when Persephone was in residence on Olympus. I still had the occasional pang for Hades, but desire no longer outweighed the consequences.

Hades saw Eric for the first time when he arrived to reclaim Persephone from her mother one year. Eric had scampered up to me, tugging on my skirts to get my attention. Bending down to listen to Eric’s childish rambling, I could feel Hades’ gaze on us all the while. When I straightened, there was an obvious question in his eyes. I gave him a barely perceptible nod, and turned away towards my villa, not staying to watch their departure.

That night, after Eric had been put to bed, I wandered out into my dark garden to find Hades waiting for me under a tree.

“Is the boy mine?” he said without preamble.

“Yes,” I said.

Hades closed his eyes and turned away. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry. I was so focused on protecting myself and Eric that I didn’t think it wise.”

Hades sighed. “When I heard that Hephaestus had fathered a son, and that you had taken him in, I took it at face value. But when I saw him today… The boy looks like me, not Hephaestus. Someone is going to figure it out. I can help protect him.”

I caught Hades’ hand to focus him on me. “No one has figured it out yet. You are so rarely here—that must not change. Do you understand?”

“You want to keep me away from our son,” he responded flatly. “You know that’s not right.”

“It is, for both our sakes. How would Persephone feel, now that she’s carrying your child? I don’t know what Zeus would do to Eric and me if he found out. That’s why I never told you about Eric. I just couldn’t take the chance.”

“That’s unfair, Athena. You know that I would never endanger either of you.”

“Prove it, then,” I challenged him. “Stay away from him. At least while he lives on Olympus. I will have to foster him out soon, and I’m considering sending him to King Cecrops in Athens. He will be protected in my city, and I promise that I will tell him the truth when he’s old enough to understand. He will come find you then.”

“He is my oldest child,” murmured Hades. “You ask a great deal.”

“I have risked a great deal.”

Hades nodded at that, and touched his hand to my cheek. “I want you to tell him about me as soon as he grows his first beard.”

I nodded, relieved beyond words that he appeared to be going along with the plan. “I will. I swear it upon Gaia.” Hades dropped his hand from my cheek.

“Thank you. I will stay silent.” Hades paused and then asked shyly, “What is he like?”

I laughed out of sheer relief. “A complete terror. He has my power of transformation and your power of lie detection. It makes parenting him a nightmare, but I love him with all my being. I will make sure that he grows into a man you can be proud of, Hades.”

“And Hephaestus? Does Eric like him?”

“He does. Eric visits him now and again, but it is difficult because of the rape story. Hephaestus is very good to him and will be a good influence as Eric grows up,” I promised, understanding that it was a bitter pill for Hades that someone else would get to play father to his son.

“Hephaestus is better than most. But I’ll keep an eye on Eric nevertheless.” Hades turned to leave, then paused for a moment. “I’ve missed you,” he said over his shoulder before he disappeared.

Hades was true to his word, and I was to mine. When I saw the first wisps of hair appear on Eric’s chin, I cleared the villa and told him the truth. I won’t detail the angry words that flew before Eric vanished, but suffice it to say that many of his accusations wounded me deeply. I sent Glaukos out to Hades and Hephaestus to let them know that the revelation had not gone well, and he came winging back with the comforting news that Eric was safe and staying with Hephaestus. I gave Eric room to cool off, which turned out to be a good thing, as Hades was able to meet his son without any of the resentment that my presence could have triggered.

As he approached adulthood, Eric went to King Cecrops to learn the fundamentals of leadership, and to build relationships within the city of Athens. The fact that Cecrops only had daughters certainly played in my plans, but it all came to naught when Cecrops died before Eric was old enough to marry. Nevertheless, the combined will of Athena, Hades, and Hephaestus is nothing to sneeze at. After some well-timed deaths (Hades) and a couple of coups (Hephaestus and myself), our son ascended to the throne of Athens as its fourth king.

Hephaestus

Hephaestus continued to live on Thera for a few centuries. With a volcano-sized furnace at his disposal, wonders started issuing forth: Metal giants that could be used to patrol long distances of coastline; self-propelled tables that could roll along after you and set themselves up wherever you’d desire. The islands around Thera quickly welcomed Hephaestus to the area in order to benefit from his new flush of creativity and the commerce that would inevitably follow.

I started visiting Hephaestus secretly once Eric was old enough to talk. I would haul the wriggling child into my arms, and whisk away in the night down to Thera. Hephaestus had constructed a simple house on the lip of the volcano. With the exception of a few metal decorations, it was basic and functional.

Hephaestus was as good as his word, and treated Eric like his own. Surrounded by women as he was, it was invaluable for Eric to have a male influence. Zeus played that role in Olympus, Hephaestus on Earth, and eventually Hades did in the Underworld. I secretly hoped that Eric would grow into Hephaestus’s mold, but he went his own way, as children often do.

As for Hephaestus, his life on Thera was not lonely, as he had a dozen eager apprentices who had sought him out to learn their craft. As mortals, they were not able to withstand the heat from the master forge in the heart of the volcano as an immortal could, but Hephaestus built a series of smaller forges midway down the mountain, where the air was clear and cool. When Eric was old enough, he too joined the apprentices to learn his adopted father’s trade.

It was at times like this that Hephaestus and I could sit and talk as in the old days on Olympus. Living in close proximity to humans was taking its toll on him. He seemed to be aging faster, or perhaps it was that he had far more worshippers in the local area, and they were molding him into their vision of the smithing god.

Whatever the reason, the effect on his body was profound. He looked heavier, bound from head to toe in muscle, and the aspect of his face had become coarser. His bad ankle was now bent at an awkward angle, which made walking difficult for him. Still, he bore his burdens with gentle acceptance, and his golden eyes shone with their familiar humor.

I gave him the latest in Olympian gossip, and he told me tales of his interactions with his neighbors. One piece of news that he shared was that he had fallen in love with a sea nymph named Cabeiro, and that he was going to move to the sea’s edge to be closer to her. That brought me no end of relief, because it alleviated the awkwardness between us regarding the matter of my own affair. It was a pleasure to be able to relax with him as freely as in the old days. For a person like me, who doesn’t make friends easily, I value those I do have as a miser does his gold.

I never mentioned that Aphrodite had moved on as well, and that was a terrible mistake on my part. I believe that he would have taken it better from a friend. As it was, it was that interfering gossip Helios, who descended to Earth to warn Hephaestus that Aphrodite was betraying him with Ares.

I felt the explosion as a slight shudder of the ground on Olympus. I thank goodness that Eric was not on Thera that day, because nothing could have survived that blast. The top of the volcano literally blew off, in what is known today as a Plinian eruption. Looking over the edge of Olympus, all I could see was a dark swirling ash cloud forming over the island, lit from within by fiery sparks.

It was Hermes who came flying in to tell us what had happened. Hephaestus had lost control of his temper and his power, and the island of Thera was no more. The center of the island had collapsed inwards into the volcano, and all that was left was a raging, sea-filled caldera. Helios was badly injured, but would recover. That was more than could be said for the islanders on Thera and the nearby island of Crete. The combination of debris from the explosion and the tidal wave that resulted had wiped out the villages on Thera and northern Crete. Hephaestus’s apprentices were no more.

Eric heard about his father from his playmates, and came home wailing. Between the chaos on Olympus and my fear for Hephaestus, I couldn’t just sit around and hope for the best. I loaded Eric into my chariot and we went looking for Hephaestus.

Thera was a living nightmare. Clouds of steam and ash hid the island from view. Wrapping a fold of my chiton around Eric’s nose to filter the air, I directed Ice and Cream to dive into the dark cloud. We fought through the burning, ashy air and exited below the cloud to see a gigantic plume of smoke and ash streaming skywards. With a twitch of the reins, we circled downwards around the plume to its source.

Leaning over the edge of the chariot, I could see that the center of the caldera was lit underwater by the continuing flow of magma. The seawater in the caldera was boiling from the heat, and I couldn’t see anything but surging water. As for the island itself, all that was left was a burning and blackened wasteland of jagged cliffs rising from the water. Nothing moved. Nothing could have survived.

I directed the team to skim around the outside of the island. Staying out of the ash plume, Eric and I searched through the floating pumice for Hephaestus—or anybody else, for that matter.

A dozen bobbing heads in the water caught my attention. Diving down with the expectation of survivors, I found a group of sea-nymphs instead. They had been drawn in by the explosion, and floated out there now, watching the eruption from a safe distance. They told me that their sister Cabeiro had found Hephaestus floating unconscious in the caldera, hauled him out, and swum him out into the open ocean alone. They didn’t know where she was bound. Eric gave a crow of relief; I was similarly inclined. Hoping that Cabeiro would have struck out for the nearby island of Crete, we headed in that direction.

Arriving at Crete, I was greeted by a different type of devastation. Everything had been flattened, as if by a giant boot. Here too nothing moved, although there were a stunning number of broken bodies entwined with the remnants of trees and houses. Unwilling to land and risk getting the chariot mired in the mud and debris, I directed the team back to Olympus.

When I arrived home, Zeus had already summoned the full council to the Agora. Entrusting Eric to my handmaidens, I hurried to the Agora without changing out of my soot-covered garments.

Poseidon had arrived when I reached the Agora, and was describing the carnage on Thera to the council. No one was yet aware of the reason behind Hephaestus’s violence, only that Helios had said something to trigger it. Helios had been claimed by his children, taken home to Rhodes to recover and was essentially unavailable for the time being. No one seemed aware that Cabeiro had Hephaestus, and I had no interest in tipping off the council so I held my tongue. The conversation turned to what could be done for the survivors on Crete, and the council got to the business of providing food and water for what could be a very long recovery. Amends had to be made for what Hephaestus had wrought.

Crete never did fully regain its former glory, but Hephaestus did manage to sneak onto Olympus to reclaim his honor. Iris dashed in to the villa a month later, words pouring from her mouth in excitement.

“Lady Athena, come to Aphrodite’s villa quickly. The council is gathering!”

“At Aphrodite’s?” I asked. “Why would that be? That makes no sense.”

“It’s the Lord Hephaestus! He’s making such a commotion!” That set a fire under me. I shimmered right over to Aphrodite’s courtyard, and swept into the villa with dignity. A crowd was gathered in the back of the villa, in Aphrodite’s bedchamber, which was a shocking and unusual invasion of privacy. I fought my way through the younger gods, who were all giggling and nudging each other like a flock of students.

When I got to the front of the crowd, my glad eyes lit on Hephaestus. But he looked terrible, almost unhinged. His hair and beard were ragged, his chiton tattered as if he held no pride in his appearance. But he stood straight, calm and cold.

My eyes swung to the bed, where a surprising sight awaited me. Aphrodite and my half-brother Ares were naked in the bed, trapped by what looked like a fishing net. The strands of the net were so fine, almost wire-like, and so sharp that they cut into Aphrodite’s and Ares’ skin. Before my horrified eyes, their skin healed, embedding the wires in place, only to cut free again as the two struggled against the net. Aphrodite’s glorious breasts were a patchwork of thin, healing scars as tears streaked down her face in humiliation, and she struggled to cover her private parts with her hands.

I acted, out of embarrassment and pity. Seeing a thin sheet fallen to the foot of the bed, I picked it up and swung it out to cover their nakedness.

“Stop struggling, for Gaia’s sake!” I said. “You’re only making it worse!”

Hera spoke up from behind me in a cold voice. “It’s only what they deserve. They are committing adultery.”

“It’s not as if we didn’t know,” I hissed at her over my shoulder. “There’s no reason for this public humiliation!” I glared at Hephaestus, appalled that he had engineered this. A net so finely wrought could only be his creation. Ares’ face as it poked over the sheet was murderous, his furious eyes resting on his tormentor.

“Are you content now, Hephaestus?” I asked him.

“Not until I’m free of this woman,” he replied. He looked at Zeus. “It was your will that I marry Aphrodite. Clearly, she has betrayed me with Ares, and perhaps with others. I do not know if her children are even mine. It’s time. I am done with her.”

Zeus had no other choice, when the proof was laid out in front of so many witnesses. His lips thinned, as he never appreciated having his hand forced.

“Granted,” he said in a flat voice. “Ares will pay the fine for adultery to you. As the offended party, you may set the amount. Lady Aphrodite, consider yourself cast off as of this moment.”

Zeus then looked at me. “Free them.” He turned his back on the transgressing couple and held out an arm to Hephaestus. “Come with me, Hephaestus. We have much to discuss.” Hephaestus moved to his side as the crowd parted to let them through.

I called for cutters. There was a scramble somewhere behind me, as Aphrodite’s handmaidens rushed to find appropriate tools. The humiliation had served its purpose. Hephaestus was able to return to Olympus as an injured party, and Aphrodite got her freedom.

A Favor

Aphrodite was glowing when she showed up at my villa unexpectedly some time later. We had never become close, and the memory of my cutting her and my naked brother free of the net was something I was trying to forget.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Athena,” Aphrodite said as she stretched one golden arm languorously to take the cup of iced wine that Lito offered her. A favor… Interesting.

Born from Gaia’s first consort Ouranus, Aphrodite had the most impressive bloodline of all the Olympians. More than that, she was worshipped in equal measure by both men and women, an advantage that only she and Zeus enjoyed. Right now, though, she just looked like a glowing maiden, with nothing more taxing on her mind than the elegant draping of her rose-colored peplos over the slight bump in her midsection. No one mentioned her pregnancy out of sympathy, and I didn’t feel the need to do so, either.

“Three veiled figures visited my temple in Athens last night. It was the three Gorgon sisters: Stheno, Euryale, and Medusa,” she said. “They came to beg for my favor. The youngest, Medusa, is not immortal. Death will visit her at some point and before she ends, she wants to experience love and have children to leave a legacy.” Aphrodite gave me an intent look. “A very reasonable desire, but if you have seen her, you’ll realize the problem. She has a lovely face and body, but the snakes are a real issue. All hissing and darting about. Very distracting. And she has interesting eyes, but they are slit like a reptile’s, so I don’t think they will get her anywhere.”

I sat listening politely, thoroughly mystified as to what she needed from me. Aphrodite finally got to the point.

“I need you to transform her into a human beauty.” Ah. Gaia, couldn’t she have asked for something simpler?

“Aphrodite, my powers of transformation have increased over the centuries, but I have never tried it on another person. I don’t even know if it can be done.”

“Can you please try, at least?” Aphrodite pushed, surprising me with the depth of her intent. “This young Titan is asking for help, and even she is deserving of a chance at love. It would be a violation of my purpose to ignore her plea.”

I sat and considered. Only Zeus and I had the power of transformation, and having Aphrodite indebted to me could be useful.

“And who are you considering as a potential mate for her? Clearly, it can’t be a mortal.”

“Any of the young gods,” replied Aphrodite calmly, arranging one of the gold brooches on her shoulder. “Medusa will serve me as a handmaid, and I will gently nudge things in the right direction.”

“All right. I agree, but I can’t make any promises.” Aphrodite relaxed, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she gave me a delighted smile.

“Tonight, then. I’ll bring the sisters here.”

That night, Aphrodite and three veiled women entered my villa. I sent Iris and Lito out of the room, as I wasn’t sure if the Gorgon’s gaze would have an effect on them. After their departure, the Gorgons pulled their veils off. All three had that ageless look common to the immortals, but Medusa had the pink cheeks and lips of a maiden. They were all oddly beautiful, even with the serpents waving around their faces. It was the power of their gaze: Their golden, reptilian eyes were steady and hypnotic.

I circled Medusa, studying her intently. Her serpents seemed curious about me, turning their heads to follow me as I walked. Thankfully, her body was that of a normal woman so there was nothing needed there. I could focus my efforts on her head, which would be much simpler.

Stheno spoke first. “Can you help my sister?”

“I don’t know, but I can try.”

“I appreciate your willingness to do so,” said Medusa, speaking for the first time. Her voice was pleasant and evenly modulated.

“What exactly do you want changed?” I asked her.

“My hair and eyes first. I would like normal eyes and hair.”

I took a deep breath and placed both my hands on either side of her heads. Her snake hair immediately attacked my hands. Stung, I jerked back.

“For Gaia’s sake, Medusa, control your serpents!” snapped Stheno. Medusa looked embarrassed. Immediately, her serpents drooped, and then straightened like ropes down to her waist. I replaced my hands on either side of her face, took a deep breath, and willed her eyes to change. Nothing happened initially, but soon her pupils began to contract, the irises lightening to a pale blue. Delighted, I smiled and withdrew my hands to let the others see. Immediately, her eyes changed back to their original state. Aphrodite gave a disappointed cry.

“What happened?” cried Medusa, her gaze darting between her sisters and myself.

“The change was temporary,” said Euryale flatly. “Perhaps we are asking too much.”

“Do not lose hope yet,” I said. “Let me try again.” And try I did, but each time the change was temporary. It seemed like the change was dependent on physical touch. As soon as I withdrew, her eyes returned to what they had been—the change was a glamour, not a true physical change. A glamour took less energy to maintain, but if touch was essential, we had a real problem. Then something hit me. Yanking a couple of hairs from my head, I wrapped them around Medusa’s wrist and tried again. This time, the glamour held a minute longer.

The hypothesis proven, Aphrodite swiftly braided a lock of my hair and snipped it at the base, making sure that the rest of my hair would disguise the bare spot. Tying the golden braid around Medusa’s wrist, we tried again. This time, Medusa’s eyes stayed a lovely aquamarine blue.

Next, I worked on her hair. This change was more difficult, as I had to manage a bunch of live creatures that didn’t want to be managed. Medusa finally had to put them to sleep. At that point, she wound up with a mass of spiraling black locks. Aphrodite led Medusa to the bronze mirror hanging on the wall and she gasped in delight. Her sisters crowded around her, exclaiming and playing with her lustrous hair.

“It will be up to you to keep the snakes still. The glamour won’t hold with them moving around,” I muttered, hoping that my instructions were sinking into her head. She really didn’t seem to be listening. “You will need to visit my temple daily, and have my priestess bless that braid.”

“Sister, are you listening?” chided Euryale. “This is just a glamour, not a permanent change. You will need to work to maintain it. Once you are pregnant, you can cease and return to your true form.”

“Oh, I will, I will,” sang Medusa, turning from the mirror to face us. At that moment, she glowed. Now that the distractions of the snakes and her eyes were out of the way, she was easily one of the most beautiful females I had ever seen.

I had more bad news for her. “You must realize that as a glamour, the power of your eyes is unchanged. Your gaze will still turn mortals to stone, so you will still need to veil yourself when you move among them.”

“That’s no matter. I don’t think much of mortals anyway.”

Things must have gone well for Medusa, because the next time I saw her, she stood beside Poseidon at a council meeting. She was dressed in a dark blue peplos with a gold snake band winding around one upper arm. A gold coronet held her loosely bound hair back from her face. She looked lovely and regal, while Poseidon looked proud and happy. I approached Aphrodite to chat.

“I must congratulate you, Aphrodite. I had no idea that things would move so quickly.”

“Actually, I can’t take much credit,” she replied, one hand on her growing belly. “I merely threw them together, and Medusa did the rest. That girl knows what she wants, and isn’t afraid to go after it. I suspect we’ll be hearing some news shortly.”

“Does Poseidon know?”

Aphrodite glanced up at me. “About her Gorgon nature? I believe so. He’s a sea deity, as were her parents.”

At that moment, a deep voice spoke from behind me. “Mother?” I turned.

“Eric!” I gasped, throwing my arms around him in a hug and planting a kiss on his stubbly cheek. “I had no idea you were coming!”

“Clyte and the baby are visiting her parents, so I thought that I would steal away as well to see you.” I didn’t see the glance that he threw Medusa over my shoulder, but Aphrodite did.

Months went by without incident, and Medusa continued to visit my temple daily to maintain her glamour. I had just returned from Crete, where I had discreetly studied their latest oceangoing ship designs. I was busy committing the design on parchment for the benefit of the worthy merchants of Athens, when Lito came in from the garden to tell me that Aphrodite had come to visit. I rinsed my hands of the ink that inevitably splattered all over before heading out into the garden. Things had warmed up nicely between myself and Aphrodite, and her visit was a welcome distraction from my work.

Aphrodite had delivered her child and was back to her glorious self. She leaned forward to sniff my white roses, her golden hair tumbling forward over green-clad shoulders. She turned at my approach, a serious look on her face.

“Athena, I come with information that I’m not sure you will welcome,” she said. Surprised and wary, I invited her to take a seat on a nearby bench.

“Your son, Erichthonius, has been sleeping with Medusa behind Poseidon’s back. I thought you should know.”

“Are you certain, or is this a rumor?” I asked, plopping inelegantly next to her on the bench.

“I’m certain. They meet most nights in the sanctuary of your Parthenon temple. It’s only a matter of time before Poseidon finds out.”

“What are they thinking? Poseidon is dangerous! I take responsibility for Eric’s idiocy, but Medusa is your protégé!” I looked at Aphrodite angrily. Aphrodite laid a calming hand on my arm.

“I’m sorry. I should have kept a closer eye on her, but she seemed to know what she was doing.”

“Apparently so,” I spit out. “She has two gods on her line. This needs to end now.”

“And discreetly so,” she reminded me. “That’s why I came to you. It’s in no one’s interest to have this affair come to light. Your son is married, isn’t he?”

“Yes, with a newborn son. Gaia! Does he believe that the marriage vows don’t apply to him? As for Medusa, that harpy is going to get her snakes back. I’m done with her.”

Aphrodite nodded. “Then I can leave this matter in your hands?”

“Absolutely.” I thought hard for a moment. “Can you tell Poseidon to come to my temple an hour after midnight?” Aphrodite looked taken aback.

“Is that wise? Wouldn’t it be better to warn them off, and let things continue with Poseidon?”

“He’s going to see her true self eventually. There is no escaping that.”

I went to the Parthenon after the daily throngs had left and the acolytes had closed the main doors. The cavernous sanctuary was faintly lit by a few flickering torches. My massive statue stood at one end, its head and shoulders lost in the darkness. I picked a location where I had a good view of the entire hall, and transformed myself into a large potted plant. No one ever notices a plant.

Hours went by as I waited for the lovers to appear. Eric arrived first, slipping through the heavy oak doors, swathed in a voluminous cloak. He positioned himself in the shadows, very much as I had. I regarded him silently. I loved him dearly, but I was shocked that he had betrayed his solemn vow as quickly and easily as it appeared. I thought I had raised him to regard his honor as sacrosanct. Was this a trait that he’d inherited from his grandfather? I had encouraged Zeus to get to know his adopted grandson, but perhaps I had let them get too close. And the sheer stupidity of cuckolding Poseidon! Easily the god with the most unpredictable temper, he was not one to cross.

A few moments later, another shrouded figure slipped into the sanctuary. Eric started towards her as she threw herself into his eager arms. I watched coldly for a moment as they kissed deeply before I transformed back into my normal form. They sprang apart in shock as I strode forward from the shadows.

“This is dishonorable. You are betraying Poseidon,” I said, staring at Medusa before turning my icy gaze on my son. “And you are betraying your marriage vows. Worst of all, you are meeting in my temple. Did you seriously think I would condone your behavior?”

“Mother,” Eric started to try to explain. I cut him off.

“Go, Eric. Go back to your wife and son. Medusa is not for you.”

Medusa’s eyes narrowed. “This does not concern you.”

I turned my eyes on her, regarding her for a moment. “Really? Do you not stand here in that form because of my will? Does he know what you are?”

“You mean, do I know that she is a Gorgon?” Eric said. “Of course—I knew the moment I touched her.”

“All right, then—there is no need for the deception to continue.” I reached forward and grasped her snake armband, which shattered at my touch. Tied beneath it was the braid of golden hair that had come from my head. The braid held for a moment before it disintegrated into a shower of dust. The glamour faded instantly, leaving me to face the hatred pouring from Medusa’s reptilian eyes. Eric flinched at the sight, but held his ground.

“Leave with her then, if that’s your will,” I said. “The two of you will be pursued by Poseidon to the end of your days. Your wife and child will be left unprotected. Clyte will be forcibly wed to the next ruler of Athens to ensure continuity—a ruler in whose best interest it would be to have your son disappear forever.” Eric blanched as my words hit home. “Just how many have to suffer for your lust?”

“So you will go back to your wife and just abandon me?” ground out Medusa. “What about our baby?”

“What?” I gasped. Medusa turned her triumphant glance on me.

“I’m pregnant.”

Eric looked thunderstruck. I took my opportunity, flinging myself upon her and pinning her arms to her sides. Her snakes attacked my face and shoulders, but I simply transformed my skin into scaly plates that easily resisted their tiny fangs. “Touch her! Is she telling the truth?” Medusa had just made her biggest mistake: My son had inherited his father’s ability to tell truth from lies. Eric grabbed her hand and focused. His face slowly turned thunderous, his arm dropping back to his side.

“She is pregnant, but she believes it is Poseidon’s,” he said. He turned to face me. “I’m sorry, Mother. You’re right. I’ve put Clyte and the baby at risk and I am ashamed for it.” He raised his palms towards me. “I will have nothing else to do with her.”

Medusa cried out and curled over my clasped arms, reaching for him. Until that moment, I had believed she was just playing, keeping her options open. But the pain in her voice was undeniable. Still, I hardened my heart against it.

I held on to Medusa, holding her back as my son walked to the doors and out of her life. Only then did I release her. She folded to the ground, weeping.

“Why?” she sobbed, looking up at me through her golden eyes.

“Because a Gorgon has no place in my son’s life,” I answered. “You have what you wanted: A child and the continuation of your line. Poseidon will be here shortly to get you. There is no need for him to know anything about this. If you are wise, you will keep your mouth shut and go on with your life. But not in this city. I give you one day to get out.”

I turned away and faded into the darkness, leaving her curled on the cold marble floor behind me. Her legend says that Poseidon raped her in my temple and I punished her for it by turning her into a Gorgon. The truth may have been a little sadder.

Medusa did have her vengeance against me. A week later, my head priestess and two of her acolytes were found in the sanctuary of my temple, frozen into attitudes of horror. Still, I had the final word when I gave Perseus the brilliant shield that he used to end her mortal life.

The Age of Heroes

The Bronze Age gave way to the Age of Heroes: Of Perseus, Heracles, Jason, Achilles, and Odysseus. Perseus was the prototype, the result of a dalliance between my father and Danae, a princess of Argos. For all his faults, Zeus always claimed his offspring and ensured that they did well. So, when Perseus was sent by his king on a suicide mission to kill Medusa, Zeus got involved. Or rather, Zeus got everyone involved.

Perseus had grown into a handsome and principled young man, so we immortals were happy to help keep him safe. Zeus gave him an adamantine sword that was unbreakable. Hades lent his helm, which turned its wearer invisible. I gave Perseus my personal shield, which Hephaestus had polished to a high shine. I also warned Perseus that he was never to look at Medusa directly, but rather look at her reflection on the inside of the shield to aim his blow.

Sure enough, Perseus was able to slay Medusa and earned himself a princess to wed. The problem was that Medusa’s head was still dangerous after death, and he grew concerned that his children might accidentally find it and turn themselves to stone. After learning that Medusa had offended me, he made a gift of her head to me. I thanked him prettily, although I had absolutely no desire to have any contact with such a grisly thing. The legends have it that I attached it to my aegis where it could turn my foes to stone, but I did no such thing. In truth, I put Medusa’s head in a small chest and had my owl, Glaukos, deliver it to her sisters as a final gesture of respect.

Next came Heracles, another half-mortal son of Zeus. His mother, Alcmene, was renowned as a great beauty, but I suspect she might have been rather dim because her son was more brawn than brain. His early life was a series of misadventures, first when he slew his music tutor with a lyre after the poor man reprimanded him, and second when he went mad and killed his own children. Needless to say, I had no desire to champion such a beast.

In penance for killing his children, Heracles was tasked with ten labors by his rival Eurystheus. If he completed them on his own, he would be cleansed of his sin and would earn the possibility of entering Elysium. The only problem was that not even Zeus believed Heracles could make it alone.

Zeus summoned me to his villa one day. Weary of Hera’s resentment, Zeus had moved to his own villa on the other side of Olympus. I, for one, was grateful because it meant an end to those infernal family meals. I sat down with Zeus in his garden as his servants brought out wine and a simple repast. After some idle chitchat, Zeus got to the point.

“Heracles could use your guidance as he attempts these challenges,” he began.

“I can’t think of anyone less deserving of my help,” I replied.

“Athena, he’s your half-brother,” said Zeus. “He’s family. You helped Perseus, after all.”

“Perseus was smart and independent. Heracles is a thug. What kind of idiot accidentally kills their own children? The Furies should have driven him to suicide to avenge those poor boys.”

“You know perfectly well that he was driven temporarily insane by Hera. It wasn’t his fault.”

“Nevertheless, I don’t think he’s worthy. Get Hermes or Ares to champion him. He’s more their style.”

“Athena, you are mistaking this as a request,” said Zeus. “It’s not. This is an order from your king.”

I stiffened. “In that case, my king,” I responded sarcastically, “I will see what I can do.”

Needless to say, I wasn’t in the best mood when I drove my chariot down to Earth to find Heracles. He had already been assigned his first task, which was to kill the Nemean lion, a terrible man-eater who had been terrorizing the region around the town of Nemea. He had been successful on his own, tracking the lion to its den and choking it to death with his massive arms. He was busy trying to skin it when I finally found him outside the lion’s den.

“Hail, Heracles,” I said as I drew the team to a halt. “Congratulations on your first success! Our father has sent me to aid you in your labors.”

Heracles looked over his shoulder at me and grunted in welcome. My heart sank as I regarded him. Heavy and muscled with hair everywhere, he depressed me on sight. Nevertheless, I descended from the chariot and watched him as he tried to stab his hunting knife into the skin of the animal.

“What are you about?” I asked. “Why do you need the skin?”

“Eurystheus won’t take my word about completing a task,” he replied, still working away with his knife. “He wants to see proof. I will either need to take the skin to him, or carry the damnable beast, rotting all the way.”

Suddenly, Heracles swore violently, lifted the dead body, and flung it at a nearby rock in frustration. The lion slid down the face of the rock. My eyes narrowed. I walked over to get a closer look.

“Look.” I turned to face Heracles, pointing to some new scratches on the rock face. “The lion’s claws did those. How strange.”

I knelt in the dirt to examine the beast’s claws. “Gaia! I think its claws are made of diamonds!”

Heracles squatted beside me to take a look. “Amazing! They must be worth quite a bit.”

“I’m sure. You’ll be able to trade them for food and shelter as you proceed with your other challenges. But more importantly, you’ll be able to use them to slice the lion’s skin from its flesh.”

“I wonder if there is anything special about its teeth,” Heracles mused, pulling the jaws of the lion apart. The stench from its innards made me pull away.

“No,” he muttered in disappointment. “Just teeth.”

I got to my feet, dusting myself off. “Well, there is nothing more I can do here. Eurystheus will want the skin as a gift when he sees it. Don’t give it to him. The skin is unique. It’s much lighter than your armor, but equally as tough. I think it will serve you well in the years to come.”

I turned and started to walk towards my chariot. “Call for me after you get your next task from Eurystheus, and I will come,” I called over my shoulder.

Heracles got to his feet, looking weary. “Thank you, Lady Athena. I know that you have better things to do, but your assistance will be a great boon. I’ve done terrible things, but I mean to redeem myself so that I can see my children again in the afterlife. With your advice, I have no doubt that I will do it.”

I admit that I was stunned. I had not expected such depth of feeling based on everything I had heard about him. Humbled and a bit ashamed, I extended my hand to him and replied with equal sincerity. “Between the two of us, we will get this done. All will be well.”

And it was. It turned out to be twelve labors, not ten, because Heracles accepted help from his friend Iolaus when tackling the Hydra, and accepted a small payment for cleaning out the Aegean stables. Eurystheus, who was a small minded and jealous fellow, disqualified both those achievements and issued replacement tasks. To no avail, as it turned out, because Heracles completed them with me at his side all the way. Heracles did redeem his name and went on many more adventures, including travelling with the explorer Jason on the famous hunt for the Golden Fleece.

Compared to the intense effort that I put in for Heracles, Jason was a moonlit stroll. Smart, adventurous, and courageous, he was one of my favorites. And yet the only thing I did for him was to design his ship, the Argo, and install a magical piece of wood in the prow of his ship. I had asked a tree in the garden of the Hesperides to contribute a branch, and it did so gladly. I carved the branch into the shape of one of Poseidon’s sea horses and pounded it into place on the prow of the ship. Placing my hands on the carving, I blessed it and gave it the ability to speak and prophesy danger. It served the Argonauts well until the day it broke off. Unfortunately, Jason happened to be napping under the prow at that time, and the blow killed him. The Fates must have been laughing that day.

Who’s left? Achilles, the ultimate warrior. His arrogance knew no bounds.

Odysseus, another favorite of mine. His mind was sharp and his tongue honeyed, a combination that is particularly appealing to me. Technically, he was not the most honorable of men, but he was pragmatic, and wasn’t afraid to make the hard choices. But that tale is yet to come.

Isis

The Age of Heroes was also the age of expansion. Our tidy little world was about to expand in a myriad of ways. Unbeknownst to us, across the Mediterranean was a thriving kingdom called Egypt, already old and well ahead of us in civilization and learning. Our sailors tended to keep close to the coast, rather than tempting fate by striking out into the unknown. The Egyptians clearly were not afraid, because they found us. I was at the Parthenon when an overexcited acolyte darted in, chattering about a strange ship and dark-skinned people in the harbor.

Without further ado, I materialized at the docks at Piraeus, keeping myself invisible so that I could watch the visitors unnoticed. Taking a seat on a stack of ropes, I studied their ship. Unlike ours, it was flatter, more barge-like, and I wondered how it had travelled across the Mediterranean without getting swamped. Apparently, it worked fine because here they were.

The sailors on board were an intriguing mix: some medium skinned and medium height, others tall and black as night. Most unusually, they all had shaved heads and thick black lines drawn around their eyes, making their eyes look huge. They were dressed very lightly, most of them bare-chested and wearing short linen kilts, belted at the waist with thick leather belts that allowed them great freedom of movement. Luckily, it was turning out to be a warm spring, or they would have caught their deaths.

The officers on the ship were dressed in airy, ankle-length kilts, and covered their heads with cloth headdresses that fell pleasingly around the sharply defined faces. They were clearly wealthy, as they wore intricate gold amulets on their bare chests and heavy gold bracelets around their wrists. It was these men who tried to make contact with the good dock masters of Athens, but they were tripped up by the complete lack of a common language. Still, both sides were obviously interested in making some coin, and thus began using vigorous gestures and pointing, coupled with the addition of broad smiles to convey friendly intent.

I shifted my gaze from the cluster on the dock to glance back at the Egyptian ship, and caught sight of a strange flickering on the ship itself. As if reacting to my gaze, the form solidified to become a small, magnificently attired Egyptian woman. The sight of a woman on a trading ship was odd in itself, but what made me sit up was the unmistakable sense of power that cloaked her.

Our eyes met and she nodded to me slightly, her voluptuous lips curving slightly upwards in a smile. I was shocked. She had to be a goddess. No mortal could see me when I chose to be cloaked as I was. My mind thudded to a halt as my universe expanded in that instant.

A foreign goddess in my city! And here I was in an uninspiring, purple chiton looking much like the fishwives weaving about me. I cursed my luck. Nevertheless, the foreign goddess was a guest in my city and it was my duty to greet her properly.

Getting to my feet, I walked to the ship’s edge and looked up at the stunning goddess, who moved forward to stand by the rail. She was small, probably only reaching my shoulder in height, but everything about her was exquisite. Her skin was the color of light walnut, her body lush in the white, finely pleated sheath. Her loose black hair flowed down her back and ended in golden beads that clicked gently in the breeze. Over her hair, she wore a heavy gold circlet embellished with what looked like a rearing snake in the front. Her dark eyes were outlined in the same black lines that adorned her people, and her small, bow-shaped mouth was colored a deep carmine.

“Welcome, Lady,” I said, making a welcoming gesture with my hands, aware that she probably couldn’t understand my words but hoping that I made my intent clear. Shockingly, she responded to me mentally, reaching out and putting forth the picture of herself dressed in a clinging red sheath, covered in jewels, with a golden throne on her head. She touched her breast with one small hand and said, “Isis.”

I responded in kind, mirroring her gesture, and said, “Athena.” I projected a picture of myself in a silver peplos, my chest protected by my aegis, with my helmet on my head and wearing my shield on my arm. Her eyebrows shot skywards, so I was quite sure that my attempt at communication had worked. Encouraged, I pictured a sumptuous feast as an invitation and a welcome. The smile on Isis’s face broadened slightly and she nodded. Gracefully, she left the railing of the ship and glided down the gangplank to stand beside me.

Taking the chance to impress her with my power, if not my attire, I whisked her to the front of my temple overlooking the city. I swept my hand across the view and then pressed it to my chest. Mine. She nodded, understanding. For both my sanity and yours, dear readers, I’ll speed things up from this point on by representing our halting mental communication as words, so that we can get on with the story.

As I led Isis into the cool, dark interior of my temple, her eyes fixed on my massive ivory and gold statue at the far end of the hall (yes, the very one that had turned me plump.)

“Women are warriors in your country?” she asked, pointing to the shield resting at the foot of my statue.

“Not typically. I’m the exception, as I was named the Goddess of War. Or Warcraft, to be more accurate,” I amended. “I don’t favor war, but I will fight when I have to. And I use tactics and strategy to win advantage, rather than relying on physical strength to win the battle.”

Isis nodded approvingly. “The war god in my country is male, but I like that your country is more open-minded. Females understand the cost of war much better than men, and often have to deal with the negative consequences afterwards. It is good that you have some control in that.”

I was pleasantly surprised by her perspective and refrained from correcting Isis on the open-minded bit. Hera and Hestia disapproved of that aspect of myself, so I was used to being lectured about being more gentle and leaving the whole war business to Ares. It was refreshing to be with someone who actually saw the advantage of having an alternate viewpoint in the business of war.

My priestesses brought food and wine and bowed away. They stood against the wall and watched us, fascinated and awed by the foreign visitor. Belatedly, I realized that perhaps Isis didn’t eat mortal food, but that was set at rest when she tasted the wine and told me it was truly delicious. Relieved, I asked her to tell me about herself and her country.

Isis was the premier goddess in Egypt, equivalent to our Hera, with her son Horus as the main god. Her husband, Osiris, had been betrayed by his brother and now served as the god of their underworld. She told me that Egypt was very old and some of the pictures she gave me of their temples, palaces, and tombs were mindboggling. It was rich in grains, fruits, wine, and fine linen; it was these goods that her people had come here to trade. In return, they were interested in learning more about Greece, and especially the fine pottery they had come across in the marketplaces of Crete and Troy.

I was simultaneously impressed and intimidated. The Egyptians were clearly much more travelled than we were. How could we have lived so long in such an insulated fashion? Isis was so relaxed and approachable that I felt comfortable peppering her with questions. It was almost like being with Pallas again. My imagination fired, we talked deep into the night.

It was Isis who told me that I could go anywhere that my worshippers resided. All I had to do was lock in on them and shimmer myself there. This was how she had arrived in Athens. The further my worshippers travelled, the further I could go. More importantly, if my people left a small shrine behind when they left, I could always get back to that location again. I asked how she dealt with the problem of communication.

“I always use mental communication, as I did with you when we met. Pictures are universal. After that, I will find a local to teach me.” She paused for a moment. “There is a darker way, as well, that I don’t support.” She refused to share that knowledge, and I couldn’t press her on such short acquaintance without appearing insufferably rude.

Isis was also the one who planted the thought that we gods and goddesses were not actually truly immortal, but merely a different race with extremely long lifespans. I mentioned that I was concerned that Erichthonius appeared to be aging faster than I was. This seemed unnatural to me, given that both his parents were gods.

“Perhaps,” she said, “lifespan decreases with each successive generation. After all, you all inherited your immortal essence from your creator. The further you get from her, the more diluted the essence, and thus, the lesser the power and the lifespan. Eventually, future generations will be simply mortal.”

I was appalled. The theory could explain what I was seeing among the younger Titans and Olympians, but I instinctively rejected it. For it meant that Eric would fade before I did, and that was intolerable.

“I would like to introduce you to my colleagues and family on Olympus, if you are willing,” I said, changing the subject abruptly.

Isis appeared surprised by this suggestion, but she accepted gracefully. She got to her feet, indicating that she had to get back to Egypt but would return in a few days. After expressing the mutual interest in establishing trade between Egypt and the city-states of mainland Greece, she shimmered away.

I lingered behind. My priestesses and acolytes headed off to bed, darkening the sanctuary and closing the heavy wood doors, leaving me to my thoughts. I was shaken in so many ways. I had been wrapped in my comfortable little cocoon, content to take care of my city, my immediate duties, and nothing more. I was supposed to be the Goddess of Wisdom, but it was appallingly obvious just how ignorant of the wider world I was. It took meeting a superior being from another world—and there was sadly no question that Isis was superior—to open my eyes.

I had been coasting along, unwilling to invest the effort in becoming the exceptional being that my mother had charged me to be. I had turned out to be slothful and ordinary, and it was a bitter pill for me to swallow in the depths of that night.

Isis reappeared in my temple two days later as promised, and I escorted her up to the Agora on Olympus. I had prepared Zeus and the rest of the council for her arrival, and everyone was dressed in their finest for the occasion.

When we arrived, Zeus and Hera got to their feet and descended to the main level to welcome Isis. The rest of the gods were fascinated by the exotic creature in front of them, frank admiration showing in the faces of the males. Zeus escorted Isis to an ornate chair placed on the dais beside our thrones, and signaled the handmaids to bring refreshments.

“Thank you for your hospitality. I hope that I can return it one day in my own land,” said Isis as she settled back into her chair. “Olympus is one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen. We in Egypt appreciate such things, as a goodly portion of our domain is desert. It is only the lands fed by the great Nile that are as lush and green as this.”

“Egypt is fairly hot, then,” said Hera with interest. “Does it have the seasons that we do here?”

“We have a dry season and a wet season when the Nile floods. But it is generally warm, as during your summers.”

“I saw a wide range of people on the Egyptian ship that docked in Athens. Egypt must have a diverse population.”

Isis inclined her head in confirmation. “We count the peoples of the Black and Red lands, as well as the nomads of the Great Desert. Slaves from many other countries have also arrived in our seaports, bringing their languages and religions with them. And your lands? Do you have many visitors?”

“Some. Traders from Carthage, Knossos, and Troy visit us regularly, and we are hoping to establish contact with the Latins who have established a settlement on the river Tiber.”

“My people have a great interest in trading with yours,” said Isis, her gaze resting on each council member. “I believe that an alliance will be beneficial to both parties.”

“I agree, Lady of Egypt,” replied Zeus expansively. “I have heard that the samples of honey, wine, and linen that your ship provided set our merchants atwitter. My brother Poseidon will ensure the safety of the Aegean for your ships to come and go as they please.” Isis looked pleased, and the conversation continued in that vein. I relaxed back into my throne and scanned the faces of the rest of the council.

“And freedom of religion?” asked Isis. “My traders must be left alone to honor their religion.”

“Of course,” said Zeus. “But only on Egyptian property. We do not tolerate shrines, or temples to foreign gods on Greek lands.”

“We do not believe in such restrictions in my lands,” countered Isis. “We have benefited from the exposure to different cultures and practices. The advances in medicine alone have been incalculable! I urge you to reconsider.”

“We will welcome your traders under that one condition,” answered Zeus, unbending. “I’m afraid that I cannot be flexible on this one point.”

“Then the same restriction will apply to Greek traders in Egypt,” replied Isis, with a touch of coldness. “That is only fair.”

Zeus nodded and the two toasted one another to mark the agreement.

Later, as we made ready to depart Olympus, I tried to smooth over the religious freedom bit.

“I understand, sister,” said Isis, to spare me further excuse-making. “To be honest, I have run into this before with younger cultures. As you become more comfortable in your own domains, the defensiveness will fade.”

Her condescending statement promptly doubled my defensiveness. “We are comfortable in our domain. Our people are faithful and trust us to care for them.”

“And do you not trust them to recognize that devotion and care?” asked Isis. “If so, why would you fear them turning to other gods?”

“So you are telling me that you have honestly allowed temples to other gods in Egypt?” I asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, I am,” replied Isis calmly. “We have shrines to Ishtar, who is a Babylonian goddess; Yahweh, who is a desert god, and Ahura Mazda from Persia. I won’t say that my priests don’t resent the presence of those other temples, but my son and I do not believe in forcing worship from people who were not born to us. If you want Greece to grow in knowledge and wealth, you will have to become more open to other beliefs. There are an unbelievable number of immortals out there from whom you can learn.”

Her last statement struck a chord with me, as I had come to the same conclusion myself simply from meeting her. So, I struck a conciliatory note. “I would like very much to visit Egypt and see it for myself.”

Isis rewarded me with a soft smile. “I would like that very much, sister. It would make me very happy to repay your hospitality with my own.”

Unfortunately, before I could make preparations to visit Egypt, Olympus was shaken by a conflict that challenged the loyalties of its inhabitants.

Troy

The Trojan War is legendary, even after so many millennia. The story is so well known from books and movies that I don’t feel the need to rehash it here. What is less well known was the political impact this particular conflict had on Olympus.

All believe that the conflict started because of that silly beauty contest judged by Prince Paris, but the story actually started many years before.

Aphrodite didn’t get away scot free after she was divorced from Hephaestus—Zeus made sure of that. In a devious punishment, he glamoured a prince from Troy, making him glow like an exceptionally beautiful god, and then put him in Aphrodite’s way. She became enamored with him and conceived a child. It was only then that Zeus revealed to the horrified Aphrodite that her child was actually half-human.

To her credit, Aphrodite carried her son to term, named him Aeneas, and entrusted him to her human lover to raise in the Trojan court. To safeguard Aeneas’s interests, she ensured Troy’s prosperity to the point that its neighbors began eying its wealth enviously. Apollo, her newest lover, also kept an eye on their interests out of loyalty to her, as did Ares, who hoped to regain her affections.

I didn't believe the Grecian protestations about Helen and honor for one minute: It was a land grab, pure and simple. But because of my millennium-long patronage of Athens, I chose to support them. Hera, Hestia, and Poseidon also believed that Greece’s loyalty to them deserved loyalty in return. Zeus, as the king of the gods, decided to stand neutral, while Hephaestus—as weapons supplier to the gods—also decided it was in his best interest to stay out of it. Hades, as Lord of the Underworld, got everyone in the end, so he didn’t care either way.

In this way, the council was split into three camps during this time: the neutral parties, the Grecian supporters, and the Trojan supporters. There is no question that this internal divide prolonged the war. I intervened several times with Achilles and Odysseus, nudging them in the right direction at pivotal moments, but never actually getting into the fight myself as I thought the whole endeavor was foolish. Ares fought invisibly at Hector’s side several times, diverting blows that could have killed the young prince. It was in this way that our sibling rivalry finally hit full boil, and I took Ares on directly.

Diomedes was the youngest warrior king on the Grecian side, but had already proven his mettle on the battlefield. Some groups regarded him as being second to Achilles in military prowess and it was true, he was very skilled. However, he had an advantage that Achilles didn’t: He lacked hubris, and thus would actually think through all the possibilities instead of charging in with the assumption that his fighting skills would carry him to victory. I supported Achilles, but Diomedes deserved my regard more.

It was after a particularly long skirmish with the Trojans that I found Diomedes resting by his chariot team, even as the other Greeks were on the field. Shocked and disappointed that he had backed out, leaving his men in the field, I lit into him.

“Great Goddess, I know that you think me cowardly, but I know better than to pit myself against a god.” He pointed towards the plains of Troy with his chin. “Ares is leading the Trojans today, and it would be sacrilege for me to pit myself against him.”

“Diomedes,” I said in a voice of steel. “Although you are correct that it would be foolish to match yourself directly against an immortal, it is not sacrilege if you are doing your duty to your men. I will stand with you to even the odds.”

Turning, I brushed by his startled driver and mounted his chariot. Picking up the reins, I turned to Diomedes.

“Are you coming?”

Diomedes moved with alacrity, belting on his sword and gathering a few spears that he thrust into the holder built into the chariot. I pulled on my helm and tightened the vambraces on my forearms to prepare.

“My Lord, what am I to do?” asked the driver in an undertone to Diomedes.

“Spread the word, the goddess Athena fights with us today!” Diomedes replied as he leapt into the carriage behind me. I snapped the reins, starting the team moving forward at a trot, quickly picking up speed. I could see Ares’ athletic body weaving in and out of the fray, dealing death with abandon. I pointed the team straight at him and snapped the horses into a full gallop. Invoking my mother’s power of shielding, I cloaked myself from both mortal and immortal eyes so that it appeared that Diomedes was alone in the chariot.

I heard a cheer erupt from hundreds of Grecian throats as they saw Diomedes racing into the fray. At the noise, Ares paused and turned to look at Diomedes charging straight at him. A grim smile split his face as he picked up a spear from a dead soldier at his feet. Testing the weight of the spear in his hand, he waited until Diomedes was within range and with a mighty thrust, he hurled the spear forward, straight and true. I smiled grimly to myself and then uncloaked myself to his gaze. Lifting one hand, palm forward, I stopped Ares’ spear dead in its flight.

“Diomedes, cast your spear now!” He did so and I guided it to its destination. Ares bellowed in fury as the spear caught him in his shoulder. Our chariot thundered past him and I hastily slowed the team to turn and make another pass. Behind me, I saw Ares grasp the shaft as it jutted from his shoulder and pull it free with a shout of pain. As the chariot slowed, I called a palm-sized rock to my hand and thrust the reins at Diomedes. He snapped the reins, urging the team back to a gallop.

Ares picked up another spear, but wisely chose not to throw it. He would wait for me to get within range and jam it into my wheels, or perhaps shove it into the chest of one of the horses to incite a spectacular crash. He waited as we charged in, a heroic figure standing splattered with blood, his spear at the ready.

I weighed the rock, judged the wind direction, aimed, and flung it with all my strength. The rock hit Ares dead center in the forehead. He stayed upright for an instant, swaying, and then toppled over like a felled tree. Diomedes cursed loudly and yanked the team away to the left, keeping them from running Ares over. I turned to look behind us at Ares’ prone body to see if he would rise. He didn’t. A sudden chill entered my heart. I couldn’t have hurt him seriously, could I? He was immortal…

I saw Aphrodite materialize beside him and crouch down. She looked up, rage etched on her face, before she whisked him off the battlefield. I didn’t bother to explain anything to Diomedes, but just vanished back to Olympus to Ares’ villa.

I was too late. Zeus was already there, summoned at Aphrodite’s request. She was talking to him animatedly when I materialized. I started to ask about Ares, regret already suffusing my being. Yes, I competed with him, but I didn’t hate him (though I didn’t love him, either).

Zeus cut me off with a wordless hand, and went in to check on Ares alone. I turned to Aphrodite, whose eyes sparked with anger.

“Is Ares all right?”

“He will be,” she answered tightly. “How could you have challenged him so openly?”

“How could you have set him against his own people?” I retorted. “Gaia! He’s patron of Sparta and he’s been fighting them for months! It’s an unconscionable betrayal of their loyalty!”

Aphrodite pressed her lips together, her cheeks pink with anger. There was no adequate response to my challenge. What Ares had done was a betrayal, and he had done it out of love of her.

Without another word, I brushed past her and followed my father into Ares’ bedchamber. Zeus sat on Ares’ bed, talking to him. Ares sported a big red bruise on his forehead, but that appeared to be the extent of his injuries. At my entrance, Ares started to sit up, but Zeus placed a hand on his shoulder to press him back down.

“Well, children,” said Zeus wryly. “This has gone beyond simple fun and games. We have exposed our internal division to the humans below.”

I felt a blush of humiliation climb my cheeks. He was right. Whatever happened, we had to look united so the mortals would have confidence in us.

“You’re right, Father. Ares, I’m sorry for flinging that rock.”

“That was a marvelous shot, though,” Ares responded, a note of humor in his voice as he lifted a hand to probe the bruise on his forehead. “I should have remembered that arm of yours.”

“I want to make myself clear,” said Zeus. “No more. You are to leave the outcome of the war to me. Is that clear?”

“Father, I agree that we should no longer involve ourselves directly in the war,” I said. “But do we not owe it to our people to continue offering counsel? If we were to suddenly disappear, will they not believe that the gods have abandoned them and abandon us in retaliation?”

Zeus frowned, not having thought it through from that angle. “No direct intervention. Counsel is fine.”

“This needs to apply to everyone, not just Ares and me,” I said, thinking of Aphrodite. “It would not be fair otherwise.”

Zeus just sighed softly to signify consent. “I will call a council meeting to ensure that everyone gets the message that the war should be left to me.”

As a rule, we gods honored Zeus’s edict and limited our involvement to counsel. As the years stretched on, however, it became all too clear that the siege was not working. The Trojans were too well protected behind their walls, and they knew their country so well that they could not be starved out. Indeed, it was the Greeks who were in danger of dying out from disease and hunger.

The prayers from the common Greek soldier transformed from “please give us victory” to “please let us go home.” It was on their behalf, after ten years, that I counselled Agamemnon, the commander-in-chief of the Grecian forces, and his vassal kings to cut their losses and return home. The outcry that followed convinced me that these fools would happily starve their men to death, as long as they continued to be housed comfortably by the sea.

I placed a diseased blanket on Agamemnon’s bed and waited to see if a little discomfort would change his mind. It didn’t help. He simply placed his younger brother in charge as he healed. I wasn’t prepared to cast a plague on the entire leadership of the Greek army, so I took a more devious route.

One night as Odysseus slept, I added a little something to his dreams: the image of a giant wine cask rolling through the open gates of Troy. When he awoke, he was woozy (as is often the case when your mind has been tampered with), but that particular dream had unusual clarity and so he knew that it meant something. I was patient, and after a few days of contemplation, inspiration struck him hard.

The wine cask became a horse (an animal sacred to the Trojans), and Odysseus spent a week selling his idea to his reluctant cohorts. They viewed subterfuge as dishonorable, whereas the pragmatic Odysseus was a firm believer in the creed, ‘the ends justify the means.’ A well-timed breakout of dysentery on my part helped bring them around to his way of thinking. The rest became history.

If anything was dishonorable, it was the sack of Troy. Instead of taking slaves as was the usual practice, the Greek army put men, women, and children alike to the sword. In horror, Hera and I flashed down to Troy and guided the Trojans into the temples to shield them until the madness abated. But it was too little and too late. The raging soldiers simply barred the temple doors and set fire to the building with the people inside. Hades himself came to Troy that day to gather the souls and guide them to the Underworld.

I heard later that a frantic Aphrodite searched through the bodies in the palace, looking for her son Aeneas. Luckily, he survived, having escaped through tunnels known only to the royal family, while his countrymen were being slaughtered. Aeneas went on to have many adventures before he married a Latin noblewoman and founded a settlement that would eventually become known as Rome.

As for the Greek army, we had plans for them. After being divided for so long, we Olympians finally came together to punish the Greeks for their brutality. Poseidon would see to it that their ships were destroyed in a series of great storms. If by chance a few did survive Poseidon’s wrath, we would ensure that the remainder of their lives would be a series of trials. Even death would not be an escape, for Hades would use his gift to identify the worst offenders and treat them accordingly.

This is too brutal, you may say. An eternity of punishment for one day’s insanity? You may be right. I know that I was trying to atone for my part in the destruction of an entire civilization. Perhaps we all were.

A New World

Odysseus was not spared for his part in the devastation of Troy. Although he had tried to restrain his soldiers, it was his idea that got the Greeks into the city to begin with. As a result, Poseidon’s storm washed his ship right out of the Mediterranean, past the pillars of Heracles, and out into the open ocean, where it was assumed he would die of thirst slowly and painfully.

I had not forgotten that I had planted the seed of the Trojan horse in his mind, so I felt that I owed him. It helped that Odysseus was an intelligent and self-reliant man who believed in helping himself instead of waiting for the gods to intervene. I knew that all I had to do was give him a chance and he would do the rest for himself.

I found his ship floating aimlessly in the open ocean. Odysseus and his crew were all huddled on deck, half delirious with thirst. When I materialized, some of the men started to sit up. With a pass of my hand, they sagged back onto the deck in a deep sleep. I wasn’t interested in doing my work in front of a dozen curious eyes, and that included Odysseus himself. I surveyed the ship. Their oars were splinters, useless. Their sail hung in ragged strips from the mast. I didn’t see any barrels of fresh water, so those must have been washed overboard in the storm.

The first priority was to get them to land so they could look for water and food. I dematerialized and headed to the Athens dock to find a useable sail. I slipped invisibly into the warehouse of a merchant named Epidorus, whom I had helped in the past. Sure enough, stacked under some fishing nets was an oilcloth sail that would do. I gathered the bulky fabric in my arms when it occurred to me that I should leave something in payment. Pulling off one silver earring, I left it on the nets, chuckling to myself as I thought of the furor it would cause in the morning. Perhaps the sailors would think that the pile had been used for a midnight dalliance.

Back on the ship, I focused on the old sail and made a pass with my hand. The sail tumbled to the deck. I left it there for the men to reuse. Next, I unfolded the heavy fabric, covering a few of the men with its span. I raised my hands, willing the sail to rise in the air and attach itself to the cross arms of the mast. I used the cording from the old sail to lash the oilcloth into place. Now came the hard part.

I stood at the back of the slip and pursed my lips. This was really more Poseidon’s expertise, but I was able to gather enough breath to get the sail filled and the ship moving. For a full day and night, I blew the ship along as Odysseus and his men slept around me. I didn’t stop until I saw a foggy green coastline in the distance. I was exhausted by then and would have liked to depart and leave the crew to it, but decided I couldn’t take the chance that they would drift from the shore. So, I kept at it until the ship grounded on the rocky beach.

I had no idea where we were, as the beach was edged with a type of tree I had never seen before. The beach itself was narrow, and beyond it the terrain rose dramatically to form a steep hillside. The deep green foliage surrounding me, combined with the light mist, meant that the crew would be able to find water nearby. I could hear birdsong, which told me the woods sheltered wildlife that could feed the men. Odysseus and his crew now had a chance for survival. As far as I was concerned, I had repaid my obligation to Odysseus; it was up to him now.

I took a moment to rest before waking Odysseus. The effort of moving the ship had taken a toll on me, and I could not remember the last time I’d been this tired. Tired. I was actually tired. It had been centuries since the last time I’d felt fatigued—since before I became patron to Athens. I straightened as a realization hit me: I was out of range of Athens. I couldn’t feed on their prayers. I lifted my hands and regarded them. Then, I looked over the ship’s rail to the rocky beach. Focusing on a stone, I willed it to move. It did, but it took more effort from me than it should have. My mind absorbed the new information.

First things first: I needed to get back home and rebuild my strength. Bending over Odysseus, I blew on his face to wake him. His eyelids trembled and opened. He groaned, then bolted upright as the unnatural haze cleared from his mind. I stepped back to let him acclimate. Odysseus surveyed his sleeping countrymen before his presence of mind returned.

“Great Athena, are my men alive?” he croaked in a parched voice.

“They are. They are merely sleeping. I will wake them soon so that you can start foraging.”

Odysseus struggled to his feet, catching sight of the beach and forest. “Gaia! Thank you, Lady! You’ve saved us from a slow death at sea! Are we in Greece somewhere?”

I shook my head, reluctant to dismay him. “This is a new land. Poseidon’s wrath swept you a world away from your homeland. You and your men are far from home now.”

Odysseus nodded, still eying his surroundings. He turned back to me and spoke decisively.

“It matters not. We will find our way home, or die in the attempt.” He went to one knee in front of me. “My men and I owe you our lives, great Athena. We will honor you for the rest of our days.”

I nodded to him. “I must go. It’s up to you now.” I lifted the sleeping spell from his crewmen, and departed for a well-deserved rest on Olympus.

After a large meal and a long sleep, I came to in my bed and lay there idly. I had told Odysseus that he was on his own, but I was curious about the land I had found. I had seen Crete, most of Greece, and Troy, but this new land seemed very different in terms of the terrain. Isis had told me that as long as a believer resided in a new land, I could visit as often as I wished. Were there people there? What would they be like? Did they worship immortals like us, or elemental spirits in the natural world around them? My mind was brimming with questions that I had no answers to, and it filled me with longing and new energy.

I flung the covers off and sprang to my feet, calling for nourishment. I would need to check in with my chief priestess in Athens, but after that, I could go explore. No sober peplos for me today. It would be a short chiton for ease of movement, and stout sandals. And a weapon, just in case.

Days had passed on Earth as I slept, but Odysseus and his men were still where I had left them. I slipped in invisibly and wandered their camp. They had been busy, using the remnants of their original sail to build makeshift tents on the ship’s deck. A couple of fires were going, on which roasted some fowl they had caught. They had also felled some saplings and were shaping a new set of oars. Odysseus was strategizing with his first mate as to how best they might store water for their trip home, as all their water barrels had been lost. I smiled as I walked by them unseen. I liked the man. If anybody could make it thousands of miles home on sheer grit, it was Odysseus.

I wandered up to the forest’s edge and took a deep breath. Placing a hand on the hilt of the sword that I had belted around my waist that morning, I dove into the woods. They were fairly open, so I had good visibility as I climbed the hillside. The sound of birds was familiar, as was the wind in the leaves, and the occasional rustle of a large animal moving through the underbrush. Although the soil was dark, it appeared to be thin and rocky in places. The trees were stout, though, roughly triangular in shape, with needles instead of leaves. Their trunks were rough and textured under my hand, and they shot upwards to dizzying heights around me. The sound of Greek voices faded swiftly as I left them behind.

The hill got steeper the higher I went, so I was breathing hard when I reached the top. There, the forest thinned out to a small clearing, which allowed me a panoramic view. Behind me, I saw the sea and the jagged coastline extend for miles. In front, a series of hills and valleys rolled onwards, green and forbidding. What really caught my eye were the gray boulders dotting the clearing, set roughly in a circle.

The boulders had obviously been placed there by human hands, as the spacing and the design were too regular. I approached the nearest stone. It was about waist high, covered on all sides with carved symbols. The symbols had to be some form of writing, as some of the designs repeated. The carving was finely done and not too recent, because lichen had started to conquer some of the surface. I walked into the circle to see if anything would happen. Nothing. The breeze continued to blow, the green grass under my feet rippling slightly in an undulating wave. I turned my attention to the vista.

The hills in front of me were steep. From one of the valleys, I saw a wisp of smoke curl up into the blue sky. Perhaps it was the people who had carved the stones and placed them here. I had no worshippers here besides Odysseus’s men, so I would have to walk to reach the settlement. Cursing, I thought of my chariot at home. That would have made it so much easier. I wasn’t about to traverse a series of mountains today, so I turned my attention back to the stone circle.

This had to be a place of great meaning, if people had put the effort into hauling the boulders up the hillside. A place of meditation, perhaps? Markers of some sort? I crouched before one to take a closer look at the carvings, and placed a hand on the surface. Cold and hard, but nothing unusual. I got back to my feet and turned around to look at the vista once more.

There was a dark-haired man sitting on a rock in front of me. I fell back in shock. He hadn’t been there a moment ago when I’d seen the smoke! He stood, looked me straight in the eye, and raised his hands palms up, as if to signal peaceful intent. Gaia, he could see me! Unless my power had failed completely, there was no way a mortal would be able to see me unless I willed it. My mind locked on that fact, and stilled. He had to be an immortal.

He said something to me in a liquid ripple of words. Stunned, I just stood there, still dealing with the fact that I had accidentally called up a deity of some sort. The immortal fell silent, realizing that I had not understood a word of what he said. His gaze swept up and down me as he took in my garb and the sword at my waist. I eyed him just as intently.

He was very lean and tall—much taller than myself or the gods at home. Thick, dark hair fell past his shoulders. His face was lean and handsome, but nothing outstanding. It was his emerald-green eyes that really stood out. They blazed with intelligence. A fine, fur-trimmed cloak fell from his shoulders, revealing little of what he wore beneath except for the heavy gold belt around his waist. He parted the edges of his cloak with his hands to reveal intricately carved gold bands at his wrists, and the hilt of a sword at his waist. He had made no further move in my direction, as if to reassure me that he meant me no harm.

Remembering Isis, I attempted contact. I projected a thought of myself attired as a shining goddess, with a helmet in the crook of my arm. I placed a hand to my breast and simply said, “Athena.”

He nodded. Gaia, it worked! Elated, I pointed to him with a questioning look in my eyes. A confident smile crossed his face as he put a hand to his chest, making a graceful half-bow in my direction.

“Loki.”

I returned to Olympus that night, having met my second foreign god and reveling in the experience. Loki was one of many gods in a realm called Norseland. From the little that I gathered, they were led by a king named Odin. The picture I got from Loki’s mind was that of a stout, older man wearing an eye-patch over one eye. They all lived in a place called Valhalla, which seemed to be a realm of much feasting and celebration.

Loki had been very interested in how I had travelled to that place. I answered that I didn’t know, taking refuge behind the difficulty in communication in order to hide Odysseus’s presence a little longer. Loki frowned at that, clearly disbelieving me, but polite enough not to challenge me further. I made a move to leave, indicating that I needed to return to Athens. His eyes sparkled when he received the picture I sent him of a bustling city, seeming just as interested in learning about my home as I was in learning about his people. I agreed to return to the stone circle the next day to talk further, and gracefully dematerialized.

I didn’t return to Athens as I had indicated. Instead, I travelled down to Odysseus’s camp and revealed myself to the astonished men. Odysseus had shared the story of how I had saved them from perishing on the ocean, and they fell to their knees in gratitude at sight of me. Waving aside their thanks, I signaled to Odysseus that I needed to speak to him privately. Quickly, I told him about what I had seen at the top of the hill.

“How close is the nearest settlement?” he asked. “Perhaps we could stock up on food.”

“Perhaps, but be very careful,” I counselled. “We do not know if their people view strangers favorably. They definitely do not speak Greek, so that will be a challenge as well. If I were you, I would not move far from the ship, in case you need to retreat quickly. They know the terrain here and you don’t.”

Odysseus nodded, seeing the wisdom of my advice. “If there are people inland, surely there will be seaside settlements as well. We’ll trade with them instead.”

“That is wise. This beach is fairly secluded, so I think you can rest and hunt for a few days. But don’t linger. It’s only a matter of time before the local gods figure out that there are strangers in their land.”

“Great Lady,” said Odysseus solemnly. “I know that you said it would be up to us from this point onwards. But will you grant us your protection as we journey home?”

I shook my head, unwilling to agree to such an extended obligation. “Odysseus, you are here because of the violations your men committed in Troy. Don’t forget that this is your punishment! I will remain watchful, but will not actively interfere in your fate.” Of course, I did wind up interfering quite a bit to get him safely home, but that is another story.

Odysseus’s face tightened in anger at my frank response, but he was too intelligent to offend a goddess. “Then I offer you thanks for the help you have already given, Lady.” he responded stiffly. “We will take your advice and move on quickly.”

I nodded. “I wish you good fortune,” I said before heading back to Olympus. Zeus would need to be notified about what I had discovered.

Valhalla

I met Loki at the stone circle several times over the next week. My father had been fascinated by the existence of an entirely different pantheon in this far-flung region of the world. He had instructed me to learn more about the Norse people, and determine whether they would make good allies or trade partners. With such a weighty responsibility laid on my shoulders, I set myself to learning Norse. To my relief, the gift of understanding that I had inherited from my mother did not just apply to animal speech. Loki was an adroit teacher and I swiftly learned the basics of the Norse language, starting with the words for the items I saw around me. My grammar was probably atrocious, but within a few days I was able to get my point across reasonably well in Norse.

Once we were past the initial communication issues, Loki began to press me for information on my homeland. Not knowing the intent behind his probing, I prevaricated, claiming that I didn’t know where it lay in relation to his land. It may have been simple curiosity on his part, but I had gotten the impression that Loki’s family valued battle skills, courage, and conquest above all. My job was to determine whether the Norsemen would make valuable allies, not to expose Greece to an unexpected invasion. An added benefit was that I kept Loki diverted while Odysseus repaired his ship and restocked his supplies. Then came the day Loki invited me to meet his family, as an official envoy from Greece. I accepted readily, pleased that I would be able to meet the entire Norse pantheon, thus making a judgment on alliance easier for me.

I returned to the stone circle the next day, dressed appropriately for a trip to Valhalla. My peplos was snow white, with my aegis draped over my breasts. Silver bands secured my bound hair, while jewelry sparkled at my ears and throat. On the other hand, I also wore silver vambraces buckled on my lower arms, and a shining sword at my waist. I was aware that the effect was an odd mix of feminine grace and masculine might, but I had no intention of going into an unfamiliar situation defenseless.

Loki looked suitably impressed, although I did detect a smirk at the corner of his mouth when he took in my sword. Nevertheless, he was all manners as he took my arm and whisked me to the fabled halls of Valhalla.

As the mist of travel cleared, I found myself standing in a large, fire-lit hall with Loki at my side. At a high dais in front of me, the king of the Norse gods was seated on a heavy wooden throne. A tall, graceful goddess stood beside him with golden hair tumbling down her back. On both sides of me were rows of stocky warriors clad in furs, leather, and weapons of all sizes. Startled, I realized that most of the warriors were mortal, not gods. Interesting. So Valhalla was not the exclusive province of immortals, as Olympus was.

Beside me, Loki looked at his king and gestured to me as he rattled off an introduction in Norse so quickly that I had trouble following. I made a small bow at the end. Odin sat totally still on his throne, studying me with his lone eye, no smile of welcome on his face. The goddess standing beside him made up for it, however, bestowing me with a glowing smile.

Loki gestured towards her. “Frigg, our queen,” he said. Frigg nodded at me encouragingly.

Odin gestured for me to come forward. I walked up the steps of the dais. His eye fell to the sword at my side and then flicked back up to my face. It was time to deal with him myself, but my limited Norse put me at a disadvantage.

Placing a hand to my breast, I projected the picture of myself arrayed in my armor, with my father Zeus standing at my side, holding one of his thunderbolts. Odin nodded at me to keep going. I then started filling in the rest of the gods in the picture. First, Hera, lovely and regal, wearing the diadem of queen-hood. Then Ares, Aphrodite, and the others. I let the picture of my family fade and replaced it with a picture of Athens, then the other parts of Greece. Finally, I took a deep breath and took a chance, projecting a picture of Odysseus’s ship beached on their shores, while its crew stumbled around, looking as if they were dying of thirst. At the end, I spread my hands and said in Norse, “That is why I’m here.”

Odin and Frigg glanced at each other. Behind me, I heard the low murmur of voices by those who could pick up on my projections. Odin stood up (another huge man!) and rattled off a string of Norse to the audience behind me. Fixing his lone eye back on me, he projected an image of barrels being delivered to the shipwrecked crew. I relaxed, thankful that this forbidding king did not see us as a threat. I bowed to him and Frigg, who stepped forward and took my hand. She drew me to one side, towards a trestle table groaning with food and flagons of wine. I threw a glance over my shoulder at Loki, who nodded back at me.

Frigg proved to be a warm soul, plying me with food and drink with her own hands. Around me, the noise level in the hall rose as everyone returned to informality. Seated at the high table with Frigg, I studied the hall and its inhabitants.

The main hall was immense, the end of it disappearing into a point in the distance, almost as though it had no end at all. Long trestle tables were set down its length, used as serving tables or cleared to become gaming tables. Thousands of warriors, both male and female, sat at the tables, feasting or dicing while others met up in the empty center aisle to wrestle or spar good naturedly. Muscles and golden mugs flashed in the firelight. The overall effect was of celebration, but in an unrestrained, masculine way. The only feminine touches were the rich tapestries on the walls, and the female servers flitting around in loose hair and embroidered gowns, topping up mugs of beer and flirting boldly with the men.

My eyes fell on Loki, who had seated himself a few feet away from me with a musclebound, blonde hulk. Frigg’s eyes followed mine. “My son, Thor.” Thor must have felt my gaze on him, because his clear blue eyes swung my way. I caught my breath as his gaze tangled with mine. Thor was a golden beauty, and he knew it, too, because a teasing smile curved his lips as he appraised me openly. Next to him, Loki turned to look my way as well. Dark contrasted against the gold, but wasn’t nearly as good looking. I smiled at them both, determined to stay on even footing.

Frigg placed a gentle hand on mine. “We do not have a warrior goddess here, although mortal women do fight as shield maidens.”

“For us, it is the opposite. We have a warrior goddess, but mortal women do not generally fight. I have a brother who is also our god of war.”

“A god and goddess of war? Doesn’t that get confusing?”

“In the beginning, absolutely,” I answered with a rueful smile. “We eventually settled on a distinction that works for both of us. Ares is the god of physical battle, while I focus on military strategy. That makes sense, as I’m also the goddess of wisdom and I would rather win a battle through tactics than bloodshed. Still, I can swing a sword with the best of them,” I added hurriedly. It would not hurt to be seen as a competent fighter by such a strong warrior culture.

“That sounds a bit like my boys. Loki is not my natural son. I took him in when his parents died, so they grew up as brothers,” replied Frigg, her soft eyes resting on her sons. “Thor is the warrior, Loki the scholar. It is no secret that everybody prefers Thor because his talents are obvious. Still, only a fool would discount Loki’s intelligence. In combination, they would be unbeatable, but they argue more often than not.” Frigg shot me a sideways smile. “I suppose this is normal for siblings.”

I smiled back at her, filing away her observations. When I looked back at the hall, Loki and Thor had risen to their feet and were moving in our direction.

“Mother. Lady, it is a pleasure to have you here in Valhalla,” said Thor, stopping in front of me with a bow.

“It is an honor to meet all of you. Your hospitality is most appreciated, as is your offer to help my people,” I said, meeting and holding the gaze of each of the three gods. “I hope that our two peoples can find ways to engage in friendship, and perhaps even in trade.”

“It is my hope also,” Thor responded, gracing me with an intimate smile. My smile never faltered, though I was not impressed with his brazenness.

“What do your people trade in?” asked Loki. I rattled off a list of goods that my city specialized in, as Loki and his mother listened.

“The quality of your furs is outstanding,” I said, nodding towards the silver fur edging Thor’s cloak. “And the embroidery on your gown is exquisite, your Majesty,” I added turning back to Frigg. “We would be interested in trading both. But I’m ignorant of the difficulties of travelling between Norseland and Greece. We’re a seagoing people, but perhaps in this case it might be easier to travel overland?”

Loki swung himself down to sit beside me. “We are seagoing, as well. I suspect your land is well beyond our range today, but we are an adventuresome people and we can easily set up an exploratory expedition. We can also consider meeting at a midway point, perhaps in Galicia.” I felt a flush of excitement. I had no clue where Galicia was, either, but I would find out.

Thor exploded in laughter. “That’s my brother. A dreamer to the core. I leave you in safe hands, my Lady,” he bowed formally to me, seasoning it with a wink as he straightened. Loki gazed after him with a hint of irritation.

“Would you like to see a map of Norseland, Lady Athena?” he turned to me smoothly. “It may stir some ideas.”

“I would like that very much.”

“I will let you two get on with it, then,” said Frigg. “Make sure that you stay with Athena, Loki. Some of our guests can get very unruly,” she added in an aside to me.

“Of course, Mother,” responded Loki. “I will show her around and then escort her back to her people’s camp.”

Frigg kissed me on both cheeks rather unexpectedly and whispered, “Please do come back to visit us. It has been very educational for me to talk to an immortal from another land.”

“And for me, as well,” I said. “I thank you for your hospitality.” Frigg graced me with a warm smile and turned to glide back to her husband’s side.

“Shall we?” came Loki’s voice from behind me.

“We shall,” I said. I followed him to the end of the hall and then out the nearest door, dodging a few overexcited drunks along the way. I found myself in a dimly lit gallery, wooden walls rising on my right side. On my left was a banister, on the other side a star-filled darkness. A cold breeze ruffled the wisps of hair that curled about my face. I shivered in the sudden chill, pulling my shawl closer. Loki noticed my discomfort and unsnapped the heavy, gold clasp of his cloak before draping it over my shoulders.

“Thank you.” I pulled the edges of the cloak closed. “Greece is generally warm, so I don’t have much tolerance for the cold.”

“You’re lucky that you’ve arrived in our summer, then. Our winters are most harsh, and summer does not last very long,” he said as he escorted me down to the end of the gallery before opening a heavy, bronze-inlaid door.

I slipped through the doorway ahead of him. It was a comfortable bedchamber, a fire burning merrily in the small fireplace at the end of it. I was a little disconcerted that Loki had brought me to a private chamber, but I had no idea of the customs in this land, so I didn’t make a fuss.

Loki bustled to a shelf containing a stack of scrolls and fished through them. I took the moment to look around the room. The stone walls were insulated with rich tapestries, and a thin rug took the chill off the floor. The furniture was heavy and ornately carved with outlandish creatures. A thick bedspread covered the sturdy bedstead in a corner of the room.

Loki found the scroll he was looking for, unrolling it as he moved towards the table in front of the fire. I joined him, unclasping his cloak from my throat and laying it over the back of one of the chairs.

“Here, this is Norseland,” he said, pointing to the map. The edges of Norseland were very irregular, and the lines of the drawing faded away into nothingness towards the bottom of the scroll. Norse symbols decorated the map, which Loki interpreted for me.

“Here are the mountains that separate our land from Galicia. These mountains are extremely difficult to cross, which is why I don’t think overland travel will work for trade purposes. This is where I think your country is.” Loki pointed to a large empty space on the map.

“Do you have something that I can draw on?” I asked. Loki nodded and went back to his shelf, returning with a small piece of parchment and a quill.

Quickly, I sketched a map of Greece, and the lands that I knew about. The pillars of Heracles, Crete, Lavinium, Troy, and my best guess as to where Egypt was. I laid my small parchment in the area where Loki had indicated he thought Greece was.

“The pillars of Heracles are the entrance to the Mediterranean. My guess is that the pillars are south of the land that you call Galicia. If we extend the lines of your map and mine, they meet somewhere here.” I was hesitant to draw on his map, not knowing if he had other copies available to him.

“In this room, both our worlds just got bigger,” he said in a low voice, regarding the map.

“How true.”

Loki turned his head to regard me, then leaned forward to kiss my lips. Startled, I didn’t respond. He pulled back.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never met a foreign goddess before. I was merely curious.”

Standing there, I realized that I had never met a foreign god before. And had definitely never kissed one.

“I’m curious, as well,” I admitted softly. “But in my land, I am a goddess who’s not supposed to…” I didn’t know the correct word, so I flashed an explicit picture into his head, flushing in embarrassment as I did so. For a moment, Loki looked surprised and enlightened, but then a sly smile curved his lips.

“How would anyone know?” he asked. I caught my breath. It has been a millennium since my dalliance with Hades, and I had to admit that Loki’s offer was tempting. But just not tempting enough to jeopardize our budding alliance. Feigning regret, I declined, a decision that Loki accepted with surprising grace. We turned our attention back to the map as he began to sketch in the most probable route to Greece.

Odin was as good as his word. Two days later, a contingent of tall, burly, and mostly fair-haired men appeared on the beach, with barrels of salted meat and fresh water on their backs. I had given Odysseus warning, so they were prepared. Although the two sets of men could not understand each other, sign language served well enough. With the Norsemen’s help, Odysseus launched back out into the unknown to find his way home. It took him many years and many adventures before he finally made his way back to Ithaca and won back his kingship and his beloved Penelope. As for me, as soon as Odysseus and his men set sail, I lost the ability to visit Norseland.

Expansion

With the fall of Troy, the Age of Heroes came to an end, and the Iron Age began. Greece underwent a spectacular expansion at this time, not just commercially and militarily, but in ideas, as well. There was a sudden wellspring of what we call civilization today: in philosophy, in self-organization, and in government.

Crete, on the other hand, was fading. The Mycenaean civilization on Crete made the city-states of Greece look positively archaic. They had true oceangoing ships that had ventured beyond the warm waters of the Mediterranean, and returned with loads of copper from distant lands. This allowed them to become the primary supplier of bronze in the area, and brought them tremendous wealth. I had visited Knossos at the height of its glory, and it set the standard for what Athens could be. Crete’s snake goddess, Asa-sara, was a regal immortal who reminded me much of Hera. She welcomed me with dignity and graciously agreed to an alliance. Then, Thera happened.

Knossos was destroyed by the tidal wave generated when Thera exploded, and was rebuilt. Barely a hundred years later, it burned down to the ground and was rebuilt again, but on a much smaller scale. The Mycenaean people grew nervous and began losing faith in Asa-sara. They held on for a few hundred years, but the damage to their confidence had been done and their civilization rapidly lost ground. The death knell sounded when their artisans and shipwrights began immigrating to healthier cities, taking their knowledge of engineering and shipbuilding with them.

Greece was more than happy to welcome them, and the infusion of knowledge sparked an expansion that lasted a thousand years. But as we rose, Crete declined. The last time I saw Asa-sara, she was barely more powerful than an elemental, her majesty drained. It was a chilling reminder of our dependence on humans.

As Greece rose, so did a little settlement on the banks of the Tiber. Aphrodite’s son Aeneas had wandered around the Mediterranean for many years before marrying a Latin chieftain’s daughter. The couple founded a small seaport called Lavinium, which quickly flourished. Their descendants moved up the Tiber and founded a town in a hilly region; that town eventually became Rome, the eternal city.

My son Erichthonius presided over Athens’ expansion with wisdom and grace. However, as Isis had theorized, he did age faster than me and soon looked older than I did. After a century in power, he abdicated in favor of his son. Erichthonius then retired to his father’s realm and became a judge in the Underworld, where his power of lie detection was put to good use. Since he was still technically alive, he was not bound to the Underworld and so travelled happily between the various realms as he pleased.

A thousand years passed in a blink for me. Athens rose to the height of its power. A building spree occurred that allowed the city to expand well past its original city walls. Greek sailors travelled further and further afield, having lost their fear of deep water, thanks to the skills of the Mycenaean shipwrights. The original Greek alliance at Troy inspired new ones as the various city-states organized. Art thrived as the common people acquired enough wealth to become patrons in their own right.

As Greece expanded, so did I. Olympus had become rather crowded as the original Olympians reproduced. It was challenging to keep all these young immortals busy (I would not have been surprised if someone had been named the God of Sneezes), and the constant jockeying for position turned my stomach. So, I travelled. I was able to visit Lavinium, Syracuse, Tyre, Carthage, and finally Egypt, where Isis welcomed me happily. Egypt was everything Isis had said and more. I spent months travelling the black and red lands with her, absorbing the variety of cultures and gods that I encountered.

It was inevitable that Greece’s success would draw covetous eyes our way. The Persian Empire came knocking on our door and Ares, Enyo, and I went to work. That seemed to inspire others to attack on other fronts, but each time, the city-states allied and fought together to repel them. And then, Alexander of Macedon was born.

Alexander

My first experience with young Alexander was when Aristotle left Athens. When a star philosopher vanishes, I get involved. I tracked Aristotle to Macedonia, and sure enough, King Phillip had imported him to educate his son Alexander. The boy himself was a pimply fellow. Skinny, all knees, but with a head of rather nice, golden hair. I departed Macedonia, unimpressed.

Two years later, Hermes told Zeus that there was a teenage prince in Macedonia claiming to be his son. Zeus denied it vehemently, and I believed him, as my father had always claimed his offspring. It’s dangerous to lie about being the son of a god, much less the King of Heaven, so my father dispatched me to determine whether Alexander should be destroyed with a well-placed thunderbolt.

I took on the form that I had used many times in the streets of Athens: that of a middle-aged man, average in every way. I trailed Alexander for two days, watching him from afar as he conversed with Aristotle, arguing his points with passion. Alexander had grown into his body nicely, and it was plain to see that he got plenty of exercise as he now possessed the Greek ideal of a golden, toned body. Again, I didn’t see anything special, so I discounted him as a harmless boy and prepared to depart. Imagine my surprise when he picked me out.

“You there!” Alexander was alone in the courtyard, waiting for Aristotle to arrive for their daily session. “Come here!” This was in a peremptory tone, by someone who was used to being deferred to. Mindful of my role, I walked towards Alexander, holding back the urge to smite him.

“You do not walk like a servant,” he observed, his clear blue eyes firmly fixed on me.

“That’s because I’m a free man, not a slave, my prince,” I responded. “A full citizen of Macedon.”

Alexander considered me for a moment and then jerked his chin in dismissal. I bowed deeply and turned to walk away.

“Halt!” I groaned internally and turned once more.

“I don’t believe you. You’ve been watching me. Are you a spy?”

My eyebrows shot up. He had just impressed me, most unwillingly. This was more than just the average teenage boy.

“Yes, I am.” I smiled at him and let my glamour drop. I then added a gentle breeze to ruffle my clothes and hair for some added style. The effect I had was most rewarding, as I watched his mouth drop.

“Lady! Goddess Athena!” The boy pulled himself together and bowed deeply. “I’m honored!”

“Don’t be,” I replied. “I am here on Zeus’s behalf. He has heard of your false claims of being his son.” Alexander blanched. I walked towards him. “Didn’t you think we would hold you to account for lying so blatantly?”

“Lady, I’m sorry! I simply needed to set myself apart!”

Deciding that he had learned his lesson, I chose to give him leave this once. “There will be no consequences this time, but remember the legends.” I raised one finger in front of his face. “Hubris is the reason most of the great heroes fell. Mind that you do not fall into that trap.” I turned and walked away without waiting for an answer.

“Please wait, Lady!’ I paused mid-step and turned back to face him.

“I have heard that you often championed the heroes of old: Heracles, Perseus, Odysseus,” he said, with a charming gravity. “What must I do to earn your patronage?” I chuckled. The young whelp was audacious, if nothing else.

“Certainly not by lying about your parentage. I favor intelligence, a strong sense of honor, and an adventurous spirit.” Audacity doesn’t hurt either, I added silently. “Show me that you have brains in addition to brawn, and we shall see.”

He bowed again, this time with real grace. “I will, Lady. I will earn your regard. And don’t worry, I won’t claim to be divine again.”

“That story is out already,” I said with a shrug. “All you need do is look mysterious, and people will believe it.”

“I have many ambitions, Lady. What other counsel would you give, to help me become successful?”

I regret to say that I put little thought into my answer. “Keep moving. If they can’t catch you, they can’t defeat you,” I tossed out flippantly, and vanished without further ado.

The next I heard of Alexander was a few years later when his father, King Phillip, was mysteriously assassinated. Alexander took the throne and started moving on the rest of Greece.

Many of us on Olympus were fascinated by the young king. Strong, lean, and beautiful of face, he was the epitome of the legendary heroes. He had certainly learned his lessons from Aristotle well, because he moved to consolidate his power quickly. City after city fell to him, and to make a long story short, I did indeed become his patron. I never did anything directly to change the outcome of a battle or make his endeavors any easier. He needed to earn his victories, after all. But an occasional hand on the neck of his horse to calm it, so that he could make his shot; a steadying hand on his javelin as he aimed; a soft touch on his shoulder to let him know I was there… That was all that was needed. The rest was all Alexander.

As the young king moved beyond Greece and turned his eyes towards Persia, I was delighted. I liked the symmetry of it: payback for their attempted invasion centuries before. However, my power waned the further Alexander moved from Greece, and I was less able to help him. My involvement was reduced to counsel and strategy. That suited me fine, as I had always held that mortals should accomplish things on their own rather than relying on divine intervention.

As Alexander conquered new lands, he left instructions to build temples for us before moving on. This was canny, as he did it to ensure our continued support. He never forced his new subjects to convert, though some did, so there was an uptick in the power flowing to us. Zeus sat up and took notice, as our range and influence expanded. He eventually threw his full might behind Alexander, and the victories mounted at a steady clip.

Things became complicated when Egypt’s time came. We’d had a longstanding alliance with Isis, and this was the first time we were pitted against a deity we actually knew and liked. Ambition warred with honor. As I had the strongest relationship with Isis within the family, my father sent me to parlay with her.

I fidgeted as I sat in the courtyard of Isis’s temple at Philae, waiting for her to arrive. I had stayed here centuries before, and it was utterly uncomfortable being in this position now. When Isis made her appearance, gliding towards me with her customary grace, it was with a strained smile.

“Sister, welcome.” Her voice was a tad stiff as we embraced in greeting.

“Thank you for seeing me, Isis,” I said as we sat. Her priestesses bustled about us, setting down small dishes of delicacies and pouring wine. “I know this is a difficult time for you.”

She nodded, not contradicting me. “I will get to the point. I am holding you to our alliance,” she said. “King Alexander will be on our doorstep soon. I want you to change his mind and turn him away from us.”

If a goddess could sweat, I would have broken into one at that point. “King Alexander is a very ambitious mortal. I don’t know if we can promise that.”

Isis’s eyes narrowed. “Get into his mind, if you have to. But that is what I require.”

“This is what I’m prepared to offer right now,” I replied. “We, the Greek gods, will withdraw our support from King Alexander if he invades Egypt. We will stand aside. He will have to fight without our support, counsel, or any other aid. We will, of course, not object to you supporting your armies as you normally do.”

Isis unbent slightly. “Interesting proposition. But I would rather avoid the conflict altogether. It is harvest time, and my people are busy in the fields. If a war occurs, the harvest will wither in the fields and my people will starve in the dry season. No, Alexander must not come here.”

“We have had a long and prosperous alliance, Isis,” I replied. “And we do not want to lose your friendship. I will speak to my father about your requirements. I have come to know Alexander, and it will take Zeus himself to change his will. I will return in two days with his answer.”

Isis nodded and stood, signaling that our visit was at an end. “I look forward to hearing the outcome.”

“Alexander wants Egypt’s wealth badly,” said Zeus as he popped an olive into his mouth. We sat at a trestle table in his garden, with snacks and a pitcher of wine set out between us. “Can you blame him? It is a real prize.”

“Their gods are also very powerful,” I reminded him. “They are not merely elementals. Even if Alexander does take Egypt, he’ll have to spend the rest of his life trying to hold it. Father, there are plenty of other lands that he can target. He can keep moving east towards India, rather than turning south.”

Zeus shook his head. “It’s Egypt’s wealth and prestige that Alexander’s after. He won’t stop until he has taken it.”

“Even if you tell him that you won’t support him?”

Zeus smiled a crooked grin. “That boy has the hubris of a god! I do believe he thinks that he conquered Persia all on his own.”

“The Egyptian gods are too firmly entrenched in that land. And there are so many other gods and cultures already in place. We won’t be able to pick up many worshippers there, so the advantage to us is low. On the other hand, the Egyptian gods have been good allies, and our peoples have both profited from the relationship. Why risk that now?”

Zeus spread his hands. “I agree with you, Athena. There is no use trying to convince me, because I’m already convinced. The boy is the problem, not me!”

“And you don’t have the power to convince him? Force him, if you have to?”

Zeus popped another olive into his mouth. “I will try. But I won’t tamper with his mind. We need him intact for the long run.”

When I saw my father the next day, he was irritated.

“He wouldn’t agree. He actually had the hubris to say that he would win Egypt, with or without my help.” My father’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps he needs a lesson in humility.”

“What do you want me to tell Isis?” I asked.

“Tell her that she is welcome to teach him a lesson. We won’t retaliate. The boy is out of control.”

If you know your history, you know that even mighty Egypt failed to stop Alexander. However, it put up enough of a fight that he was impressed, and left it undisturbed even after conquering it. He moved his armies onwards to take Babylon, and then targeted India.

But young Alexander made a fatal mistake. He forgot my warning on hubris. After his foreign provinces started regarding him as semi-divine, he sent instructions back to Greece, ordering them to worship him as a god. Arrogance in a child can be forgiven, but not in a thirty-one-year-old man. Alexander was cut down at the height of his power by a mysterious and debilitating disease, courtesy of a real god.

Decision

After the Roman Victory at Cynoscephalae

As I drove alone through the clouds from the battlefield at Cynoscephalae, the chill of the air in the higher elevations helped calm my temper. Zeus’s order for us to abandon the field of battle was unlike him. He was vain and emotional, but he tended to favor the traditional ways over the radical. There had to be a good reason for him to change the approach this late in the game.

I broke through the cloud layer to soar over Olympus. Leaning over the edge of my chariot, I saw the crowd that had gathered around the Agora. I didn’t bother to go home to change for council, but rather guided my team down to land a short distance from the Agora. Tying the reins to the wicker railing of my chariot, I sprang down and headed for the crowd. As I expected, Ares and Enyo had beaten me back to Olympus and, indeed, Ares stood on the steps of the Agora, gesturing passionately as he spoke to his fellow council members. My steps hastened, as I had a bad feeling that it was him against everyone else.

As I neared the crowd of deities clustered on the grass at the foot of the Agora, Hestia broke away from the group and came towards me. Ever the peacemaker, Hestia had voluntarily vacated her council seat when Zeus pressed the council to admit his semi-divine son, Dionysus. It was a terrible trade, in my opinion.

“Zeus has declared that we will favor the Romans over our people in this conflict,” she told me in a low voice. “Apollo has had a vision in which he foresaw the Romans conquering Greece and most of Europe. Zeus means for us to ride that wave, to increase our power.”

My mind reeled. Zeus did have a good reason for pulling us from the field—a selfish one, but one that would appeal completely to the gods gathered here today. I wish I could say that I wasn’t tempted myself but, in truth, I was intrigued by the idea.

“Aunt, where do you stand on this?” I asked Hestia.

“Our people have been loyal to us for two thousand years. How can we forsake them in a time of need?”

I fell silent. I could always count on Hestia to be the voice of my conscience. Behind her head, I saw Ares stop gesticulating and fall silent. I reached out, squeezed Hestia’s hand briefly, and then slipped by her to mount the steps of the Agora, stopping beside Ares. He glanced at me when I reached him, tension coming off him in waves.

“You’ve heard?” he asked me in an undertone.

“Just now.”

“Where do you stand?” more loudly now, so everyone could hear.

I took a deep breath. Was this the right moment to mount a challenge against my father? Not really. I had neither expected nor prepared for it. Then again, if there was a topic to make a stand on, this was it.

“I stand with you, Ares,” I replied. “I stand with the people of Greece who have honored and worshipped us since their creation.” It was time to find out if the relationships I had cultivated for centuries had been worth the effort.

Zeus glowered at me. “The majority of the council stands with the Romans.”

“That’s not true,” Aphrodite spoke up clearly. “I, along with Artemis and Demeter, stand neutral. We recognize our obligation to the Greek people, but we acknowledge that Apollo’s prophecies are never wrong and that our involvement will probably not change the outcome.”

I scanned the council from end to end, to gauge their reactions. I saw Hephaestus nod at me. One on my side. Ares behind me as well. That was two. Apollo would go with the Romans because it was his prophesy. Poseidon, Dionysus, and Hermes would do whatever Zeus wanted.

I saw Hera swallow convulsively, and hope surged. If I swung her, I would likely swing all the other goddesses. With my vote, I would have the seven necessary for victory.

I stepped forward, mimicking the orators I had watched in Athens. My hands rose to add gravity and depth to my points.

“So, the Greek people who have worshipped us for millennia will become enslaved? Their women and children sold far away from home? The civilization that we have all worked to nurture scattered to the winds?”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Hera tighten her grip on the arms of her throne.

Zeus leaned forward to answer me, a steely look in his eyes. “Not necessarily. The Romans barely have a culture of their own. I have watched them, and spoken to one of their generals. They were drawn here by Greece’s wealth, no doubt. But they also see the value of the learning, the art, and the grace here.”

He sat back in his throne. “Slavery is the inevitable fate of the defeated, but it does not need to be permanent. I have insisted on that. Every slave will have the ability to earn money and buy their freedom, if they put their minds to it. In a hundred years, the two races will have intermarried and become one nation. And we will have lordship of an area four times the size of Greece.”

“But this is still a betrayal, plain and simple!” Ares exploded beside me. “I, for one, won’t blame our people for abandoning us in droves!”

“They won’t even know,” said Zeus. “They saw you, Athena, and Enyo at the battle, and so will assume that you were in the fight. They will never find out that you withdrew from the field.”

I decided to target Hera directly. “Hera, my queen! Are you in agreement with this? You speak for the human women and their families. You know that they will be the first to suffer if Greece falls.”

“Athena, this is happening, whether or not we agree with it,” Hera said, her lips tight. “We can either throw our lot in with the conquerors or be conquered along with our people. This way, we have a chance of staying relevant, of helping our people survive. It’s as simple as that.”

A shocked silence reigned at her brutal analysis of the situation. Hera met my gaze. Her eyes revealed deep pain, but also a rock-solid resolution. She would not break. My heart sank. I had cast the dice, and failed.

Zeus leapt into the opening that Hera had left for him. “It is time for the final vote. There will not be any abstentions. Everyone here will need to make a decision, so there will be no backpedaling afterwards. Who votes for the Romans?”

As I expected, all the males except Hephaestus and Ares raised their hands. Hera raised her hand, as did Artemis. Seven votes for the Romans. Zeus smiled.

“Who votes for the Greeks?” Hephaestus, Ares, Demeter, Aphrodite and I raised our hands. It had not even been close.

“The decision has been made,” Zeus said, a victorious note in his voice. “We will stand with the Romans.”

“There is no honor in this,” muttered Ares as he stepped forward to stand beside me.

“I agree, brother,” I said. “But as Father just pointed out, it does not matter. The decision has been made, and by the oaths that we took when we joined the council, we are bound to see it through.”

Zeus relaxed visibly at my words. “So be it. No Olympian will oppose the Romans or aid the Greeks, on pain of destruction.”

Conquered

I only broke my commitment to the council once, and that was when the Roman legions reached Athens. Athens lay early on in the path of the Roman advance, and was among the first cities to fall. It was clear the crisis was near, because the volume of prayers I received suddenly spiked. Prayers for aid, prayers for protection, prayers for the sons, fathers, and brothers who were going to war. And then—inevitably—the soft desperation of a final prayer. The volume increased steadily until my mind rang. I did not go down to Athens to see. What was the point?

Until one day, amidst the desperation and despair, I heard the familiar voice of my chief priestess, Lydia. She knew it was her final prayer and she begged me to accept her into Elysium. I gasped, shimmering to the Parthenon.

I appeared just in time to see her stabbed in the chest. She stood at the entry of my temple, arms spread wide in a vain attempt to keep the Roman soldiers from the young acolytes, huddled at the foot of my statue. Lydia swayed for a moment, and then crumpled into a heap without a sound.

I uncloaked myself, grabbed the oversized spear that my statue held, and rammed it through the stomach of the soldier who had killed my priestess. There were screams from the maidens behind me. Not a word from the soldier I had speared as he looked at me, eyes widening in shock. I stepped closer to him, close enough to smell the metallic tang of his blood as it flowed down his legs, and looked deep into his eyes.

Softly I whispered in Greek to the soldier impaled on my spear. “No salvation for you today.” I gave the shaft in my hands a slow twist before releasing it. The weight of the spear pulled the dying legionary to the ground, but my attention had moved elsewhere.

I stalked forward, drawing my silver sword from the scabbard at my waist, and called my armor to me. The remaining legionaries froze, bloodied swords in hand, as disbelief shifted into fear.

“WHO DARES VIOLATE MY TEMPLE?” My voice boomed in divine fury as I moved beyond the entrance into the sunlight. It didn’t matter to me if the remaining soldiers understood Greek or not. They must have, however, because they dropped their weapons and fled. As they ran down the hill, I saw my city laid out below me, black smoke billowing in the western quarter. The faint cries from the streets echoed those in in my mind. Then the wind shifted and a whiff of smoke, sweat, and death reached me. The smells of war in my fair city…

I turned away from the sight and returned to Lydia, lying on the scuffed marble floor. Her blood had drained down her side, staining her formerly bright white robes. I bent to place a hand on her heart; Thanatos had already been to collect her soul. I straightened and looked at the young acolytes who were still clustered at the foot of my statue. Most of them were weeping, their faces hidden from the horror in front of them. One brave maiden got to her feet and met my gaze head-on, the accusation clear in her eyes. How can you let this happen to us? Shame struck like a dagger to my heart.

“Children, you are safe,” I told them gently. “Bar the temple doors, and lay your chief priestess out with the dignity that she deserves. I will take care of the dead soldier.”

I grasped the spear and its associated soldier, and dragged them out to the front gallery of my temple. Turning the spear vertical, still with the legionary impaled on it, I rammed its butt into the marble floor, sending large cracks running in all directions. The message was cold and clear.

It was at that moment that Hermes appeared by my side. “Your father requests your presence immediately,” he said quietly. In response, I simply dematerialized.

There were only a few onlookers at the Agora in Olympus, as most of the gods were in their own homes. Zeus stood in the middle of the dais, looking thunderous. I materialized in front of him, still in my regalia.

“Athena, you have broken your word to the council,” he said in a low voice, so that the onlookers could not hear.

Zeus’s words tripped something within me. Shame and rage surged again, this time focused on him. My hand shifted to the hilt of the sword at my waist, as the song of thousands of voices crying and screaming in my head rose to a crescendo, urging me to vengeance. I was losing hold of myself. My mind had turned into a mass of cold fury and evil thoughts. Thoughts of vengeance, of patricide, of setting everything and everyone around me on fire. I had never learned to produce a thunderbolt, but at that moment, I felt as though I was turning into one. I took a deliberate step towards my father.

“No one touches what is mine,” I ground out. Zeus must have read the danger in my gaze because he regarded me silently for a moment, spun on his heel, and left me without a word.

Honestly, I don’t remember much beyond that. Days later, when I awoke in my own bed, the voices had finally abated, but I was surprised to find a female arm clamped around my middle. I had not shared a bed with anyone since Hades, and it was disconcerting to have someone in it now. I knew Lito and Iris would never presume, so I turned my head to look over my shoulder. It was Hestia.

Hestia told me later that I had looked and acted so strangely that she had feared for my sanity. She refused to leave my side, should I need to be restrained. Looking back, she was right to be concerned. My connection to the Athenian people had channeled their terror and pain straight into my brain, which overloaded. For a few days, I had actually become temporarily insane.

Hestia told me then that Athens had fallen, and the Roman legions had established martial law. Athens’ many temples were being respected, and Athenians had started using them as sanctuaries. The looting and violence had decreased and a deathly quiet had descended on the city, as both sides accustomed themselves to the new reality.

I was not the only one who went half-mad during the transition. Over the next few decades, each of the Olympians displayed similar levels of stress as their patron cities were attacked and defeated. A pall hung over Olympus as, one by one, immortals quarantined themselves in their villas. Even those who remained healthy retreated inwards, weakening the bonds of family.

Hephaestus moved to the island of Lemnos permanently to keep Cabeiro and his new children safe, so I lost one of my anchors. Aphrodite retreated to the island of Cyprus, and rarely returned to Olympus. Her power and influence faded, as this was an era for survival, not love. Zeus and Hera endured the most, as the prayers for protection and victory didn’t ease for decades. They grew haggard, but I could not bring myself to feel pity for them.

It took fifty-one years for the Romans to take Greece fully, but with the battle of Corinth, the death knell of Greek independence sounded. Publically, I always appeared stoic, but I retreated to Gaia’s cave whenever I needed respite. She tried to comfort me, but I know that she was puzzled by my distress. Borders and nationality were meaningless to her. The Romans were her children, just as the Greeks were, and she couldn’t see the difference in one group having the upper hand versus the other.

Once the war ended, the Roman soldiers ordered to keep Greece secure were awed by its soaring marble architecture, graceful public spaces, and lovely women. Greek culture seduced them with its unique combination of sophistication and pragmatism, which stood in counterpoint to the rough and ready lifestyle of Rome. As the poet Homer later wrote, “Captive Greece captured its rude conqueror.” Zeus’s gamble had paid off.

Roman Goddess

I was renamed as Minerva. Though Rome imported us along with Greek culture, they rebranded and remade us in the Roman image. If you still believe that we gods were all-powerful, think again.

The physical changes occurred slowly but inexorably. Zeus became Jupiter, and was no longer a middle-aged man. He had turned completely gray, becoming the epitome of the wise Pater familias. His white beard grew down his chest in luxuriant waves and he no longer wore chitons, but adopted the toga. It actually suited him quite well.

Ares became known as Mars and transformed from the lean, toned Grecian ideal. Rome’s militaristic culture preferred muscle and toughness, and so that’s what he became: the picture of a seasoned centurion. Much as Ares refused to admit it, he found his true people in Roman soldiers. They made him the second-most-powerful god in the pantheon, much to my father’s dismay.

Hades became Pluto and grew a beard that he couldn’t get rid of, no matter how many times he shaved. Poseidon became Neptune, becoming a bit older and bulkier. And so on.

Interestingly, the goddesses were largely unaffected, as the Greek ideal of womanhood turned out to be appealing to Romans, as well. Hera became known as Juno, adopted the stola, and lost the softness in her face. Aphrodite became Venus and was completely unchanged. Hestia unexpectedly picked up a great deal of power when she became Vesta, the goddess who governed the institution of the vestal virgins. As Diana, Artemis ignored the Romans entirely, which oddly made them love her more.

Sad to say, of all the major goddesses, I was the one who struggled to adapt. As a rigidly patriarchal society, Romans were repulsed by the idea of a woman having dominion in war, even with respect to strategy. They refused to acknowledge me as the Goddess of Warcraft, but focused solely on my other aspects. The downgrade was humiliating, but even their combined will couldn’t take what my mother had gifted me with. I continued going on campaigns with Ares and Enyo, and encountered new civilizations and gods the Roman way: through conquest.

Rome held Spain within a hundred and fifty years of taking Greece, but endured a series of civil wars that kept it from expanding further. After the wars, an ambitious proconsul named Julius Caesar conquered Gaul in spectacular fashion. His successor, Octavian, accomplished a real miracle, defeating Queen Cleopatra and the Egyptian gods on their own territory. Afterward, Rome turned towards Syria and Judea, and acquired them as client kingdoms. Rome was on the move, and we were growing with it.

To our credit, we Olympians never insisted on forcing our worship in the newly conquered provinces. Occasionally, a governor here or there would get overzealous and force our worship on the local people, but on the whole we acquired converts honestly—usually when the conquered people wondered why their own gods had failed in protecting them against us.

Oddly, conversions went the other way, too, as newly built roads opened the empire to unfamiliar cultures and ideas. After her resounding defeat in Egypt, Isis came back strong and gained a foothold in the Italian and Greek peninsulas. We never quite went back to being comfortable with each other, but achieved a cordial coexistence.

I have to mention the goddess Morrigan, as she holds the distinction of being the only foreign deity who successfully repulsed a Roman invasion multiple times. In the words of today’s youth: she was kickass. I wished that I could have gotten to know her.

Julius Caesar attempted to invade Britannia twice, but was unable to hold it each time. It was during the second attempt that my father sent Ares and me to help. The Catuvelauni tribesmen of Britannia were formidable warriors, but they also magically seemed to be able to foretell what Caesar was about to do. As the legion marched, soldiers were picked off only to return as artistically mutilated corpses on the trail ahead. Rumors ran wild in the Roman encampment that dark creatures watched them from the thick tree line. Ares dismissed the rumors as the raving of superstitious soldiers, but truth be told, I too felt it.

It turned out that Morrigan had her ravens all over Caesar’s encampment, listening to his soldiers’ battle plans. No wonder, then, that the Catuvelauni were always prepared for us. I saw Morrigan herself only once, during a riverside battle. She stood behind her people, her dark feather cloak covering her from neck to ankle. She made an intimidating figure, with her long black hair and bleached skin; terrible yet striking. Her eyes found me across the lines of struggling men. She gave me one quick nod of acknowledgement before dissolving into a flock of ravens that dived into the mass of soldiers to sow confusion and claw out a few eyeballs.

Morrigan managed to repulse the great Caesar twice, but was defeated by Claudius a hundred years later. Even then, she wasn’t completely done. It took a couple of centuries, but the Romans finally abandoned Britannia as being too troublesome to bother holding. Though it was disloyal of me, I got a deep sense of satisfaction that ultimately it was a goddess who managed to evict Rome.

The centuries passed and the Roman Republic evolved into an empire, with an emperor at the head of it. As Zeus was our king, you would have thought we would have been comfortable with the idea of a monarch. Yet even with a titular king, we Olympians still operated on a system of consensus, with a voting council and Zeus acting as tiebreaker. Thus, the elevation of a single fallible mortal with the ability to affect the lives of millions of citizens felt like a very bad idea.

It started with Julius Caesar, who first pushed the idea to his peers of being a living god. We all know what happened to Caesar after that point: He roasts in Tartarus along with Alexander, as we speak.

His heir Octavian was far more intelligent. He caught Zeus’s attention when he went up against Mark Anthony and Cleopatra and won. He was a man after Zeus’s heart: unrelentingly ambitious, but with the outward appearance of humility and devotion to the gods. Zeus began communicating with Octavian in his dreams and guided him to a spectacular career. At his death, the senate voted to make him a god. Since Octavian had nothing to do with that particular declaration, he was spared and went to Elysium in recognition of his accomplishments.

Over time, Zeus recognized the benefit of having the emperor’s interest aligned with his. Zeus was at the height of his reign, worshipped by millions. He had power aplenty, and he used it to bind each emperor to him by granting them the one thing they couldn’t get for themselves. He gifted them with just enough divine power and ability to convince the populace that they really were living gods.

In gratitude and to maintain their own supremacy, each emperor made it a priority to continue expanding the empire, until Rome held supreme control over the lives of millions.

A New Religion

Around 60 AD, a new challenge appeared on the horizon. Thirty years before, an iterant preacher in Judea had been crucified for preaching about a new kingdom with the Jewish god, Jehovah, as its king (or something like that). He managed to antagonize the leaders of his own people, who then chose to present him to the Roman leadership for judgment. As Rome generally had a dim view of anybody who challenged its authority, the man was promptly executed and buried. Usually, such a person would slide into an ignominious obscurity, but this man had dedicated followers who travelled through the empire claiming that he had risen from the dead. Of course, these followers couldn’t prove that this man had indeed risen from the dead, but the poor and the gullible still fell for it.

Initially, we didn’t pay this Christ any attention. We had traditionally maintained a non-interference policy with other gods. Let the Judeans keep their god and this crazed preacher, if that was their will. They were on the fringes of the empire anyway. Surprisingly, over the course of thirty years, the cult of Christ defied expectations and spread like wildfire among the lowest strata of society, even into Rome itself. It was only when Christianity penetrated the middle class that we began to pay attention. And once we looked closer, what we saw disturbed us.

“I don’t understand why women are joining this religion,” said Aphrodite, wrinkling her nose. “There’s nothing in it for them that I can see.”

“A god can’t possibly understand the challenges and fears a woman deals with in daily life,” replied Hera dismissively. “It takes a goddess to understand the fears of a woman risking her life in childbirth, or to intervene as an invading army reaches her city. A religion without a feminine balance cannot last.”

“We are not perfect, but we have never claimed to be the only immortals in this universe,” I countered. The other council members nodded in agreement. “We acknowledge the sovereignty of other deities, even as we face them in conflict. That is something to take pride in.”

Zeus lounged silently on his throne, fingering his beard as the debate continued around him. Eventually, he straightened and spoke. “We need to get closer to this religion, to understand if it is just a harmless cult or a true threat.” There were nods all around.

“Athena, find these Christians and investigate,” Zeus added, his gaze swinging around to meet mine. “Find out if they are a danger to Rome or to us. We will make a final decision then.”

I inclined my head silently to indicate agreement. “I will return shortly with my findings.”

I knew that finding the Christians would not be easy, as they did not have an established temple, as far as I was aware. However, I also knew that the courtyard fountains that supplied water to the neighborhoods were the perfect place to start searching for them. Everyone needed water, and the local women used the fountains as a gathering place to share gossip. I cloaked myself and haunted a high-volume fountain, eavesdropping on the people dropping by to fill their amphora. Most of the conversations were useless to me, but I did eventually gather that the Christians used a fish symbol to identify themselves.

The streets of Rome were “decorated” with graffiti well above the height of a man. Graffiti was the ever-present backdrop to daily life, and people quickly learned to ignore it. Nevertheless, it was the graffiti that eventually led me to a Christian gathering place. Once I started looking, the fish symbol was everywhere, most commonly near the base of the wall where eyes wouldn’t wander unless looking specifically for it. I found one such trail and followed it to a narrow side street that looked primarily residential. That’s where the trail of fishes ended.

Looking about me in puzzlement, I couldn’t figure out to which residence the trail was pointing. The buildings looked identical, and there was only a butcher shop and a hair styling business on that particular street. Puzzled, I sat invisibly on a stoop and watched the activity on the street.

Luckily for me, it wasn’t particularly busy or I might not have noticed that the people who entered the butcher shop didn’t always come back out. Within the space of an hour, three men and one woman entered, but none of them exited. The next time a customer entered the shop, I trailed him invisibly. The shop was narrow, the butcher chopping a cow leg on a counter near its entrance. The man I was following reached under the neck of his tunic and showed something to the butcher. The butcher nodded and returned to his work, while the customer slipped by him and went out the back door. I followed him out into a bright courtyard that contained a medium-sized shed. The man opened the shed door and slipped quietly inside, with me close behind.

Inside the dim shed were a number of ice slabs with meat arrayed on top. There were also several men and women crammed inside, including the ones I had noticed earlier in the day. They were already deep in prayer, keeping their voices low. It was then that I saw that each of them wore a pendant around their necks, in the shape of a cross. I recoiled automatically at the sight. The cross at that time was a symbol of disgrace and punishment. Back then, choosing to wear a cross would have been as bizarre as a person wearing a hangman’s noose in today’s world.

There was nothing unusual about the people clustered in that shed, with the exception of their crosses. A middle-aged man in the center led the prayers in a low voice. He spoke of the sacrifice of this Christ, who was supposedly the son of their god. He went on to speak of a new kingdom of heaven that they would all eventually join. Only those who believed in Christ could go to heaven, the rest would burn in a land that sounded much like Tartarus.

In truth, everything the Christian leader said was typical religious dogma. Every religion has a heaven that their followers aspire to, and most have a realm of punishment. Every religion stresses positive behavior while discouraging damaging behavior. The unusual thing about this particular religion was that the Christian leader stressed that their god was the only true god and that we, the Olympians, were false gods who didn’t exist.

I was insulted and out of patience. I was certainly not false. Although I was not as all-powerful as most humans thought, I absolutely did have the power to condemn a soul to Tartarus or elevate them to Elysium. It was lucky for them that it was I, and not Zeus, who overheard them. My father would have called down a thunderbolt for their impiety.

The next time the council met, I gave them my impressions.

“These Christians seem to be a fairly harmless sect. They believe in spreading love, peace, and self-restraint. They claim that the preacher they worship is actually the son of their god. This Jesus Christ intentionally allowed himself to be crucified in order to save their souls.” The rest of the council members glanced at each other in puzzlement.

“How would a bad death change anything?” asked Hera.

“I don’t know. I don’t understand it myself. I believe they see suffering as the road to salvation,” I replied. I took a deep breath. This next part wouldn’t go over well. “They also claim that their god Jehovah is the only true god and that we, Olympians, are false and do not actually exist.” The council didn’t react the way I expected. They broke out into gales of laughter.

“So this minor desert god that we trounced, is the only true god?” Apollo wiped a tear of laughter from his right eye as he looked around the rest of the council. “And before us, his people were enslaved by the Egyptians! No wonder he claims that suffering leads to salvation! Suffering is the only thing he’s been able to deliver on!” More laughter. Even Zeus produced a thin smile before it disappeared beneath his flowing beard.

“By claiming that he is the only true god, this Jehovah has insulted not only us, but all the other gods and goddesses that we know of,” added Zeus in an even voice. “I will not permit outright disrespect in our lands. I don’t care what these Christians do in private, but they will show us the respect that we are due in public.”

So, that was why Zeus whispered to Emperor Nero in his sleep, that the Christians needed to demonstrate loyalty to Rome and to its gods. If you’ve heard of Nero, you know that he wasn’t the most stable man. Nero promptly went overboard, convinced that the Christians were un-Roman and were plotting to overthrow his rule. Before we knew it, he had hunted down several Christian leaders and blamed the great fire of 64 AD on the Christians.

Although the persecution of Christians was not our original intent, we did nothing to stem it and, frankly, I didn’t have a problem with that. When you criticize your hosts, you must be prepared to live with the consequences.

Thanks to Nero’s influence, the average citizen learned to view Christians with great suspicion. At best, it was a strange cult that worshipped an executed criminal and refused to acknowledge the divine nature of the emperor. At worst, they were terrorists, and posed a grave threat to decent society. Christianity was driven underground, where it continued to spread in secret. Nero’s successors tended towards moderation, utilizing social stigma to discriminate against the new religion. That changed three hundred years later, when the situation rapidly heated to a boil.

Opening Gambit

By any standard, Diocletian was a hard man. He had spent forty years in the military, and it showed in the way that he handled the empire. He ruled it with an iron fist.

In 303 AD, he decided to use much more radical methods to force Christians into the fold. He started actively looking for worshippers of Christ, most of whom practiced their religion privately and weren’t bothering anyone. He passed edicts rescinding their legal rights, and demanded that they publically adhere to traditional Roman religious practices. Those who refused to acknowledge his divinity or make sacrifices were arrested and creatively executed in an arena for the entertainment of the masses.

Zeus and Hera were very supportive of Diocletian’s actions. Over the centuries under Roman influence, we had all changed, but none more than our leaders. Zeus had always been flawed, but his ability to influence the policies of the empire through his pet emperors had made him dictatorial and arrogant. Hera too had been demanding, but her rigidity had once been balanced with a deep compassion. Over the centuries, I saw that compassion warp as the Roman way of life influenced her. Even gentle Hestia hardened, condemning a couple of her vestals to a lingering death because they broke their vows of chastity.

It sounds terribly arrogant, but I was the only one who didn’t change for the worse. I escaped purely because I was on the decline and simply didn’t have the number of worshippers to affect me the way the others had been affected. When Zeus requested the presence of the council at one of the emperor’s games, I couldn’t refuse.

I stood alone at the railing of the royal box with the council seated behind me. Diocletian was not present that day, even though he was paying for the games out of his own purse. The games started as they usually did, with a parade of gladiators, animals in cages, and speeches. Once the formalities were done, the crowd settled in for the rest of the day.

The first entertainment started, featuring a mangy lion set against a bull. They were released into the arena to the cheers of the packed Coliseum. The lion had clearly been starved, its ribs showing through its tawny skin. The bull was in its prime, muscled and bestowed with a pair of metal-tipped horns. It faced the lion with horns lowered, shaking its head threateningly.

The lion tried repeatedly to circle to reach the bull’s hindquarters, but the bull anticipated his every move, adroitly turning to keep his eye on the lion. The volume of cheers escalated each time the lion darted forward, fading to easy laughter each time it failed to flank the bull. As the starving lion’s strength faded, it slowed before finally making one last desperate attempt. This time, the bull lunged forward, horns lowered, and caught the lion squarely on its horns. The metal tips sank easily into the lion’s flank and its cry of pain sent the crowd to its feet, screaming in excitement. The bull tossed its head and the lion literally flew over its back to land in a heap. The bull wheeled around and finished the lion with its hooves. The volume of the mob was earsplitting as bloodlust was satisfied for the first time that day.

The next display was what my father had come to see. A ragtag group of four unarmed Christians, three men and one woman, were shoved into the arena. They stumbled around, blinking in the bright sunshine, clearly aware of what was to come. One man leapt up the side of the arena, trying to get a handhold on the smooth stone, but dropped to the floor each time. Another man, probably the husband, took the woman in his arms as if to offer a last moment of comfort as she wept into his chest. It was heartbreaking to watch, even as the booing and the insults from the crowd around me increased. Zeus stepped up next to me, so I glanced over at him.

“You disapprove?” he asked.

I chose my words carefully, as I suspected the others would be listening. “I have always disapproved of forcing religion on other cultures.”

“These people were born in Rome. They were born to us. They converted to Christianity of their own free will.”

I tried a different tack. “What use is it to command worship from those who do not truly believe in us? Such prayers are worthless. Would it not be better to let them go and invest in the true believers?”

“So you think demanding loyalty from our people is unreasonable.”

“You’re trying to put words in my mouth, Father,” I said. “I value loyalty if it is heartfelt. Is it really loyalty if you feel nothing, and are just going through the motions?”

Zeus sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t dance around with words so much, Athena. Just say what you mean. Do you think this punishment is inappropriate?”

“Yes, I do,” I said honestly.

In the arena, two lions and two bears were released—one predator for each of the humans. The Christians fled to the furthest end of the Coliseum, to no avail. Their wails of fear rose on the air, paired with the cheering from the crowd.

“What would you do with these Christians, then?” asked Zeus. “You’ve agreed that their philosophy of one god is inaccurate and disrespectful to us. These people refuse to recognize our authority in any way. They refuse to acknowledge your authority.”

“I would treat them the same way we treat the Jews, who share many of the same tenets. Let them pay a fine for the privilege of practicing their religion. The pain to the pocket alone will discourage new followers.”

Zeus turned his gaze back to the arena, silently considering the notion. One of the men had been pinned down by a lion, now ripping into his abdomen. The husband boosted his wife up as she reached for the railing of the arena. The people above her pushed her grasping hands away, shouting insults. She lost her balance and fell to the sandy floor just as a bear reached her husband. The scene was so pitiful that I turned towards my father instead.

“Do you really think this is the right way, Father?” I asked, gesturing to the mayhem below us. “We were once known for tolerance. If we cannot withstand a little competition, perhaps we do not deserve to be in power.”

Zeus’s eyes flashed at that. “This isn’t about competition, Athena! This is about respect. These people deny our divinity, and in our own land! If they are allowed to get away with it, how long do you think we will keep the respect of the other humans? Gods must be feared, in order to be respected.”

I let the disappointment show in my face before I turned back to the arena. Cynoscephalae had shown me that my father would do anything to survive, but this latest conversation revealed that his ambitions had grown beyond that.

As I watched, armed guards cleared the arena for the next round. I realized then that we Olympians had adapted too much. We no longer exhibited the qualities that had made us worthy of worship in the first place: compassion, justice, and guardianship. Those who hunger for power generally do not deserve it.

I’d relied on guilt trips and moralization, while my father had simply acted. It was time for me to pit my will against his and play his game. I even had an inkling of what to do, as Zeus himself had pointed the way.

In 305 AD, Diocletian abdicated for health reasons and his son-in-law, Galerius, took over as Augustus. Galerius was fifty-five years old and did not have a living son, so speculation immediately started on who would eventually succeed him. At that time, three men stood out with strong dynastic claims to the throne: Licinus, Maxentius, and Constantine. The eyes of Rome were upon them.

On the surface, they all seemed similar in nature. All were supremely ambitious, had proven themselves in campaigns, and had the wits to be good leaders. Licinus had the inside track, because he was a close friend of Galerius. Maxentius’s advantage was his impeccable bloodline, and Constantine’s was the natural charm that made him popular with the common people. I watched them navigate through the minefield that was Roman politics, and after a year, I had selected my candidate. Constantine had one distinguishing factor that made him suitable for my purpose: his mother Helena.

Helena was not an asset for a politician on the rise. Far from it. She came from humble origins, and was divorced by Constantine’s father in favor of a better bloodline. There were even rumors that she had been a concubine, casting doubt on Constantine’s legitimacy. She also happened to be a secret Christian. To avoid tainting her son’s prospects at Diocletian’s court, Helena chose to move away, and lived quietly in a modest villa in Nocomedia. She kept her head down and this eventually saved her, because she was nigh invisible by the time Diocletian began hunting Christians.

I followed Constantine on a visit to his mother’s villa. It was plain to me that he was aware of his mother’s religious leanings, although he himself seemed to be a faithful devotee, and regularly made sacrifices to us. He was affectionate towards his mother, and gracefully accepted the Christian blessing that his mother conferred on him before he departed. In the end, it was the respect he showed for his mother’s religious beliefs that convinced me he was the right man for the job. I quietly smoothed his way to success, helping him make his name as I had once done for Alexander. The difference being that nobody, not even Constantine, knew that I was doing it.

I won’t discuss the actions that I took to get Constantine to the top job, as it is laid out in history. It took ten years, nonstop maneuvering, and some lucky escapes to get him into power. Upon my whispered suggestion, he offered his sister in marriage to his biggest rival, Licinus. This key alliance resulted in the elimination of all other rivals, at which point they became co-emperors of the empire.

In 313 AD, Constantine proved his regard for Helena by issuing an edict guaranteeing freedom of worship to all religions, and restoring legal rights to Christians. Zeus tried to influence him into revoking the edict, but even he could not overcome the love of a son for his mother.

Constantine stepped into the purple mantle of kingship with grace. As the emperors before him, he served as the head of Roman priesthood, visibly honoring the gods by wearing the sun-rayed diadem of Apollo. It was a wise move, as most of his subjects and government officials still worshipped us. More importantly, it kept Zeus from targeting him.

It was at this point that I paused. Constantine was busy establishing himself in Rome, so I decided to take a well-deserved break and return home to Athens.

Interlude

Athens had continued to thrive under Rome, and its streets and port were as bustling as ever. The main difference was the number of languages spoken on its streets. The seaport had expanded to accommodate the volume of ships arriving from all over the Mediterranean and beyond. Progress was everywhere, and it was obvious that the city no longer needed my patronage. I felt a quick pang of sorrow, alongside a huge well of pride and relief.

The temples in the city were as busy as ever, and there now existed a temple of Isis right alongside one of Apollo. I slipped into it one day to see, and was surprised to see a Europeanized statue of Isis on display. Her face was Caucasian, her hair bound up and partially hidden under a veil. The body of the statue was swathed in a stola. The effect was interesting, to say the least.

It was quiet in the temple that day, so I approached the statue, touched its hand and quietly called her name. A moment later, Isis stood beside me regarding her statue.

“What do you think?” she asked, nodding towards the statue.

I glanced down at her. She looked much as she ever had, dressed in her traditional Egyptian attire.

“Well, it’s quite a bad likeness, but I suppose your worshippers here would prefer you to look like them.”

Isis grimaced. “Yes, but I will never get used to it.” She turned to face me. “How are things in Rome? The Edict of Milan took me by surprise. This emperor seems like an unusually open-minded fellow.”

“He is,” I replied, a note of pride in my voice. I could never reveal my part in his ascension to anyone, but I did allow myself a little satisfaction in a job well done.

“And how is Zeus taking this sudden equality of religions?” she asked.

“Quite well, actually. He’s taking a wait-and-see approach. We are still the official deities of Rome, and Constantine honors us regularly.”

“So, Constantine is not a Christian? I’ve heard rumors.”

“His mother Helena is one, but not him.”

“It really doesn’t matter to me what he believes in his heart,” Isis said. “I was pleased when the edict came out. We were never actively discriminated against, but I rejoice to know that my worshippers will never be punished for their beliefs.”

I gave her a teasing smile. “It took a while, but we finally learned your lesson, didn’t we, Isis?”

“Younger cultures usually do come around eventually,” she replied smugly.

I enjoyed relaxing on the docks, watching ships come and go. The buzz in the air was the voice of commerce, rendered in a dozen languages. The variety of goods on display was astounding, coming in from as far away as Numidia and Britannia. I was watching a fisherman threaten a predatory sea gull eying his catch when somebody sat down on the bale of wool next to me.

“My coin is on the seagull,” said Loki, leaning close to me. “Want to wager on it?”

“Loki!” I gasped, eyeing him in disbelief. “What are you doing here?

“Trading trip,” he replied, pointing to a dragon-headed ship moored at the far end of the dock. “This is my third time here, actually. I stopped by your temple once, but you weren’t to be found.”

“Welcome to Athens, my Lord,” I said, finally remembering my manners. “It is good to see you again.”

Loki bowed his head, the gold circlet around his throat flashing in the sun. “It is good to be seen, Lady Athena. Or should I call you Minerva now?”

“Athena is, and always shall be, my preference. The clothes may have changed, but all else remains the same.”

Loki leaned back against another bale and eyed me thoughtfully. “You look well, Athena.”

“You do, as well. What’s kept you occupied?”

“Exploring. I’ve just got back from a land far across the sea. Some of my people are setting up a colony there. It’s a time for expansion for us as well, although not quite on your scale.”

“That’s good to hear. How is your family?”

“I’m sure they’re fine.” At my raised eyebrow, he continued. “We’ve had a falling out. I’m no longer welcome in Valhalla. It’s why I’ve been travelling so much.”

“What happened?”

“One of my jokes went badly wrong, I’m afraid. I’d rather not discuss it.” Loki’s face was bland, but his body radiated tension.

I sat there, thinking hard. His revelation had put me in an awkward position. The rules of hospitality demanded that I return the courtesy that he had shown me when I was in Norseland. Normally, I would have escorted him to Olympus to meet my family. But if he had been ejected by the Norse gods, treating him as an honored guest could antagonize them. I decided to play it safe.

“Would you have a meal with me at my temple tonight?” I asked.

“It would be an honor, Lady,” he replied.

I threw the acolytes at the temple into a frenzy when I asked them to prepare a meal for divine guests. Even my chief priestess Eania was rattled when I mentioned that they would be foreign deities.

I sent my owl Glaukos winging to Isis’s temple, begging her to attend. It may seem ridiculous, but this was not Norseland, and I had to be the circumspect virgin goddess that my people expected. That meant a chaperone.

The three of us had a delightful meal together. Eania did herself (and me) proud. I’m sure Loki was surprised that we weren’t to dine alone, but he didn’t let a flicker of that show on his face. With Isis’s ancient wisdom and Loki’s sharp wit in play, the conversation was both wide-ranging and thought-provoking. Eventually, the topic turned to our respective pantheons. I had already recognized the parallels between the Norse gods and my own family, but it turned out that Isis had equivalents of her own, and we began throwing out names as a sort of game.

“Odin and Zeus are clear parallels, but isn’t Osiris the Lord of the Underworld? Wouldn’t he map to Hades instead?” I queried.

“Osiris did become the Lord of the Underworld, but originally he was the father figure,” argued Isis. “It was only after his murder that he was associated with the Underworld. I think the mapping could stand on that basis.”

“So Osiris would also map to Hades and…” I looked hopefully at Loki.

“Hel. Hel is queen of Helheim, our Underworld,” replied Loki with a twinkle in his eye.

“Isis, you would map to Hera and Frigg as mother figures. Horus would be the son, the same as Thor and Ares. And of course, Thor is essentially the God of War, as is Ares.”

“But you are Goddess of War,” said Isis. “Do you map to Thor, as well?”

Both Loki and I shook our heads with certainty. “I think Athena is my equivalent,” replied Loki in a thoughtful voice, glancing over at me. “Sadly, we don’t have a God of Wisdom. I might be the closest thing, as there is cunning, curiosity, and planning inherent in being the Trickster.”

“The Trickster,” murmured Isis. “That has a negative connotation.”

“A little, but I’m also known for my sense of humor and the ability to see creative solutions to problems.”

“Cunning is one of the qualities that my mother bequeathed to me,” I admitted. “So perhaps you are indeed my twin.”

“Your evil twin,” he intoned. “Trouble incarnate!” Loki tried to turn it into a joke, but there was a hint of sadness in his voice that was apparent to both Isis and me.

“I know that we are safe with you,” said Isis kindly, reaching over to touch his hand. “If you are a scholar and problem solver, Thoth would be your closest equivalent.” She glanced over at me. “And yours too, Athena. Thoth is the Lord of Knowledge, esteemed as the inventor of our hieroglyphics.”

“I wonder just how many pantheons there are in the world,” I mused. “Do we all mirror each other?”

“Very likely,” said Loki. “Humans have the same basic needs regardless of where they live. And the same concerns: survival, children, and love. It would make sense that they would need the same types of support and protection, no matter where they live.”

“But there is a precedent for monotheistic religions. Many centuries ago, one of our pharaohs raised a sun god named Aten to the exclusion of all others. The Christian and Jewish religions are founded on the same principles: a single deity.”

I looked at Isis in sudden suspicion. There was no way that Isis could know what I was about. Was there?

“I’m not familiar with those religions,” said Loki to Isis. “A single deity seems outlandish to me. How could a single god meet all the various needs of humanity?”

Isis shrugged. “The Christians and Jews claim that he does. We had Hebrews in my land for centuries, so I’m quite familiar with them. I have seen with my own eyes that their god has real power. I’ve seen him in action, though I have never seen Jehovah in person. They say that he is everywhere, but never reveals himself in his true form. I suppose he could be here, listening to us converse.”

Loki lifted one shoulder to indicate that he wasn’t impressed.

I had to know. “So what happened to the pharaoh who tried to raise that new god?” I asked in a low voice.

“Akhenaten? In the end, his religion went nowhere and he himself came to a bad end.”

Wonderful. “What do you think he did wrong?” I asked, trying to look innocent.

Isis’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean, apart from antagonizing a large number of ancient and powerful Egyptian gods? He tried to impose change too quickly. The fellahin were faithful, and couldn’t be forced to give us up. Akhenaten tried to push the Aten far too quickly. He may have done better to add Aten into the mix, and let the fellahin adapt in their own time.”

“That wouldn’t have worked in my homeland,” said Loki. “Remember how Odin wouldn’t let you return after your ship left? We guard against foreign influences. It’s us, or no one.”

Isis chuckled at that. “Athena’s father was the same way with me. And yet, he is changing. The new edict in Rome legalizing religious tolerance is proof of that.”

I watched Isis’s face intently. This conversation was a very strange coincidence. Could Isis know? I decided to push things further.

“I have a hypothetical question for you two. What do think would happen if the situation that happened in Egypt happened in Rome today? For instance, if the emperor made another religion the official religion of the empire?”

Both Loki and Isis looked at me shrewdly.

“You think Constantine might be thinking of converting to Christianity, don’t you,” observed Isis. “You believe the rumors are true.”

“I don’t know for certain,” I backtracked. “I just want to be prepared in case that happens. What do you think would happen, Isis?”

“Constantine would die,” she replied. “Your father wouldn’t stand for it. Christianity has been growing, but it is still a minor cult within the empire. It doesn’t have credibility yet, so I think that the story of Akhenaten would repeat.”

“I agree,” said Loki. “I think your family would fight back, and win.”

“Still, I think the attempt would be a good thing in the long run,” Isis added unexpectedly.

“How so?” I asked.

“Please forgive my rudeness, but you Olympians has grown overconfident and greedy,” replied Isis. “When I first met your family, you served your people, just as much as they served you. It was a healthy partnership. Now, it just seems to be about acquiring more power, more land. More, more, more. When will it be enough?”

The color rose in my face as Isis spoke. Loki looked like he wanted to dematerialize. A deep silence fell as Isis simply looked at me evenly. I took a deep breath to calm myself. I was insulted, though deep down I agreed with her.

“Perhaps there is truth in what you’ve said,” I said carefully. “I will consider it.”

Isis nodded at me. I was getting paranoid by now. Did Isis know, or didn’t she? Was that some kind of encouragement for my plan? I changed the subject, but the party atmosphere had dissipated. Loki made his farewells, kissing my hand elegantly.

“Farewell, twin,” he whispered, making me blush.

“Farewell, evil twin,” I retorted. With a flash of his teeth, he vanished.

As Isis prepared to depart in her turn, she apologized. “Can you forgive my outburst, sister? I’ve been a very poor guest tonight.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Isis,” I responded. “I hope you know that I have always had the greatest respect for you and our friendship. I hope that we will only ever be brutally honest with each other.”

Isis gave me her lovely smile. “I’m glad. We’ve had bad times between us, but I want you to know that I too value your friendship.” She leaned in to kiss my cheek before she shimmered away.

I massaged the sides of my temples as my mind whirled. I needed to think.

It had been three hundred years since I last visited Gaia in our cave. I would have felt badly about it, if I hadn’t known that three hundred years were nothing to her.

“Grandmother, it’s me, Athena,” I said as I knelt and sank my hands into the cool, dark earthen floor. “I need your counsel.”

The familiar thickening of the air, the increased pressure, a phantom hand on my hair as Gaia turned her attention to me. Tension slowly ebbed from my body as I allowed myself to relax in the darkness. As always, Gaia waited for me to speak.

“Grandmother, Zeus has been corrupted by absolute power, and I fear that his ambition knows no bounds. He needs to be restrained, and I believe that I have the way to do it. The problem is that my plan jeopardizes all of us, not just Zeus. My question to you is this: Is there a way to decouple our fates from Zeus’s?”

Gaia was silent for a long time. When she replied, it wasn’t an answer to my question, but a question of her own.

“Why do you believe that the rest of the Olympians deserve to stay in power?”

I turned hot with embarrassment. First Isis, now Gaia... I couldn’t help thinking that the universe was trying to tell me something. “I think we did well in Greece, and could again,” I said, a tad defensively. “We lost our way when we became Romans.”

“I’ll ask the question in a different way,” said Gaia. “Why do you deserve to stay in power, when you were swayed so easily? For it is not just Zeus who has been corrupted, but the whole lot of you.”

I bowed my head in shame. It is a hard thing to be chided by the Earth herself.

“Child, I do not say these things to hurt you,” Gaia continued in a gentler voice. “But as immortals, your actions resound in history. You have a responsibility to hold yourselves to a higher standard, and act for the greater good.”

I was silent for a long while, fighting an internal battle over her words. Deep down, I knew Gaia was right, but I wasn’t ready to give up the power I had earned. If Zeus was power hungry, then I was, too. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

Eventually, I stirred, lifted my head, and sighed in acceptance. “I understand, Grandmother,” I said. “I have my answer. All of us must diminish to give someone better a chance to rise.”

“And if you succeed in this, I will hold your last oath to me fulfilled,” she added.

I flinched at that. The angry young immortal who had sworn to bring down her father no longer existed. Despite Zeus’s many, many faults, I had inadvertently grown to love him. He had to decline for the good of humanity, but so did I.

“Rest now, Athena,” Gaia replied. “You are heartsick and weary. I can give you the strength to do what you must.”

Dark earth swept over me like a wave, burying me as Gaia embraced me. Gratefully, I turned on my side, closed my eyes, and let her heal me.

When I awoke, I felt at peace. Rising to my feet, I dusted myself off as best I could, and thanked Gaia for her care. I then returned to Olympus. When I appeared in my villa, the looks on my handmaidens’ faces were priceless.

“Gods! My Lady, where have you been?” Iris cried as she grabbed my hand in both of hers. Lito just took one disbelieving look at me and shot out the door without a word, running towards my father’s villa.

I looked down at myself. Did I look that bad?

“I’ve just been with Gaia,” I replied, patting Iris’s hand to calm her.

“For eleven years?”

“What?” I gasped. “It’s only been one night.”

“No, Lady. You disappeared from the Parthenon eleven years ago. Your parents have been looking for you since then!”

Iris had no reason to lie to me. “I fell asleep in Gaia’s cave, and only just awakened,” I muttered as my eyes darted about my villa. It looked much the same.

Zeus materialized beside me and pulled me into an embrace. “Where have you been, child?” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. Touched and still reeling from Iris’s revelation, I hugged him back.

“I went to visit Gaia, and just fell asleep. I was tired, but even so, I don’t know how I managed to sleep for eleven years.”

“Even your owl couldn’t find you. Isis said that you were fine at dinner and that nothing seemed amiss. I thought…”

“What?”

“I thought that you may have run off with that Norse fellow.”

“What? Loki? Seriously?” I pulled away, scandalized.

“I know, I know. But there seemed to be no other rational explanation. None of it matters now. You’re home and in one piece.”

I sank onto a nearby couch. “It appears that I’ll have to catch up. Has anything major happened?”

End Game

324 BC

It turned out that Constantine had been very busy while I was asleep. He had pulled his mother Helena out of her self-imposed retirement and named her Augusta of the empire. That was all well and good, until Helena “came out” as a Christian. Her admission revived the rumors that Constantine himself was a secret Christian, though he still hadn’t admitted it.

If I had been around, I might have been able to influence Constantine into imposing change slowly. That was, after all, the lesson in Isis’s story. Unfortunately, while I was asleep Constantine decided to champion the Christian cause a little too feverishly. He promoted Christians into key roles and used the characters Chi-Rho on his military standard. This was seen as an open declaration of his religious affiliation, as Chi and Rho are the first two characters of Christ’s name.

In sharp contrast, Constantine’s brother-in-law and co-emperor Licinus was a traditionalist, of good family, and with old-fashioned Roman values. Not surprisingly, the people had decided to back Licinus—a move my family wholly supported.

Thus, the path to civil war had already been laid by the time I awoke from my slumber. Licinus and Constantine had met once on the battlefield, and another conflict was imminent. Licinus had the numbers and with Zeus backing him, the odds were well against me.

In the end, however, it all came back to the discussion in Gaia’s cave. I had made my decision there and it was time to act. Covertly, of course.

Constantine slept fitfully in his tent, pitched on the banks of the river Hebrus. Across the river in the town of Adrianople slept Licinus, along with his much-larger army. They had the superior position, their backs protected by a tall ridge and their front protected by the river. Licinus was wisely waiting for Constantine to come to him, so that he could pick off the enemy as they attempted to cross the river. Constantine wasn’t going to fall for that, so the two armies were essentially in a stalemate, waiting for the other to make a move.

I glided over to Constantine’s cot and knelt beside it. He had aged terribly in the years since I had seen him. I hoped that I still had the ability to influence him.

I bent to whisper in his ear. “There is a shallow spot in the river three miles from here. Your army can cross safely there. If you mean to win this battle, convince Licinus that you plan to cross elsewhere.”

I repeated those lines in Constantine’s ear until I saw him start twitching in his sleep. That generally meant that his subconscious was processing my words. I kept repeating the message until I was satisfied that he had absorbed it.

The next morning, Constantine had his scout look for the crossing point, and they found it. Hidden by a small wooded hillside, the Hebrus narrowed and became shallower. Constantine acted. He instructed his generals to hide five thousand archers and cavalrymen under the trees on the hillside, while he had his engineers move building materials in the opposite direction. Licinus shifted his men accordingly.

The night before Constantine attacked, I paid Licinus a visit in his tent. This time, I wasn’t going to be subtle. I glamoured myself as the preacher Jesus Christ, complete with thorn crown and bleeding wounds. Then, I woke Licinus.

To his credit, Licinus didn’t scream. He merely bolted upright in his cot, staring at me in horror. The color drained from his face.

“This is just a dream, this isn’t real,” he whispered to himself, repeating it like a prayer.

“This is not a dream. I’m here in the flesh,” I said in a man’s voice. Then I reached out and gripped his shoulder with a cold hand before releasing him. Licinus gasped and squeezed his eyes shut before reopening them. I was impressed with his composure.

“What do you want?” he asked in an even voice.

“I’m here to warn you. Do not go up against the true god. You will lose. Flee while you still have the chance. There will not be another warning.”

I became invisible again and watched him leap from his cot and call for his guards. Together, they searched the confines of the tent for intruders. Of course, they found none. Eventually, Licinus dismissed the guards and sat back on his cot, his hands clenched as he struggled to calm himself. Satisfied, I left him to a sleepless night.

It’s strange how big events can turn on small actions. Licinus, his confidence shaken, fell for Constantine’s ruse and threw his forces at the fake crossing point. Meanwhile, at the real crossing, the first wave of archers and cavalry crossed safely and fell on him from the rear. By sunset, Constantine stood victorious and became the sole leader of the empire. He didn’t actually convert to Christianity until just before his death, but he did spend the remainder of his life legitimizing it. My father fought back, as you might expect, but Constantine’s deathbed conversion had sent a message screaming across the empire that was impossible to counteract. It was now acceptable to be Christian.

Aftermath

They say that the rise of Christianity was the downfall of the Greek gods, but the reality is that everything in the universe operates in cycles and what goes up must eventually come down. So it was with us, with the other deities that we knew, and even with Rome itself.

As you might expect, the first few centuries after the rise of Christianity were difficult. Our decline didn’t happen overnight by any means, but when the emperors of Rome became Christian, they turned the tables on us and started persecuting the old ways. Our temples were looted and closed. Fines were levied against mortals who continued to worship us. The mood on Olympus turned dark, as we got a taste of our own medicine.

It took centuries for our decline to be complete. Even then, we never vanished entirely. When you look up at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel to see Jehovah rendered as a white-bearded man in flowing robes, who do you think you are looking at? And the classic image of the Virgin Mary with the Christ child on her lap came from ancient statuary of Isis with Horus on her knee. I was simply grateful to see a feminine aspect appear within that religion.

As for we Olympians, we scattered to the winds. The youngest immortals were the first to leave, departing to make new lives on Earth. The legends you may have heard of angels descending to Earth to father children were essentially about them. I can still pick out their mortal descendants today. There is usually a little extra something, a divine spark, in their eyes.

Zeus, Hera, Apollo, and Hestia stayed on at Olympus. They continue to care for their worshippers to this day. You’d be surprised how many there still are.

Aphrodite lives in Paris, and is a giant in the beauty and matchmaking industries. She still has a penchant for younger men.

Ares has been an arms dealer since the fourteenth century, and continues to make appearances in random conflicts worldwide. He works primarily in Africa now.

Artemis is heavily involved with Greenpeace, and lives on a ship in the middle of the ocean somewhere. Dionysus disappeared in the eighth century, but I’m sure he’s having a wonderful time wherever he is.

Hephaestus didn’t really change with the times. He’s still a metal smith, and creates stunning works of art in the depths of Mount Stromboli. I market his bronzes to discriminating art collectors everywhere.

Isis went into decline just as we did, but she remains in the heart of Egypt, safeguarding the cycles of the land just as she has from the beginning.

As my star declined, Loki’s seemed to rise. His role in the murder of his adopted brother Baldur the Beautiful resulted in him being ostracized by most of our peers. Still, the scandal freed him to find his own path, which turned out to be in mortal politics. Loki’s calculating mind was the power behind many a coup during medieval times, with his most ironic achievement coming much later, when he helped Rodrigo Borgia win the papacy. He and I make it a point to meet every ten years to laugh over our misadventures.

As for me, I got into the coaching and inspiration business. I specialize in finding budding inventors and artists, and turning them into successful ones. The muses were a bit bitter about me invading their turf, but they’re one step above nymphs so they learned to deal with it.

I endured the Dark Ages, almost getting burned at the stake a couple of times before I came into my own during the Renaissance. It’s no accident that Michelangelo painted Zeus on the ceiling of the Sistine.

Lito and Iris are still with me; they run my publishing and production houses. They take care of the day-to-day, while I wander the world looking for the next great mind.

So, why bother to rehash ancient history now? Well, I wanted to set the record straight on a few things, and it’s been long enough that there shouldn’t be too many hard feelings when my family reads this book. That’s the theory, at least. If I’m wrong, I’ll be in for a very interesting time.

The End

How to Help the Author

I hope that you enjoyed My Life as Athena! As you may know, books live or die based on their reviews. If you are willing to help out a new author, I would really appreciate a review. It doesn’t have to be long or detailed—just a few lines letting people know how you liked the book.

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Acknowledgements

I’d like to express my gratitude to my beta readers—Dessa and Michelle—for taking the time out of their busy lives to comment on this book and help me eradicate that bane of my existence: typos. I would also like to thank my editor, Jen Blood of Adian Editing, for her insights and her care in making this novel fit to print.

I’m indebted to my husband Jeff, for pushing me to write. His perseverance finally overcame my laziness, and it only took eighteen years!

Last but not least, a nod to the goddess Athena herself: an independent and influential female in an age which didn’t encourage it.

About the Author

Daphne Ignatius was born and raised in Malaysia. She attended the University of Kansas, where she earned a Bachelor’s Degree in Computer Engineering and a Masters in Business Administration. The daughter of two high school teachers, she was instilled with a love of the written word at an early age, and set down her first short story in illegible longhand at eight years old. Her earliest remembered ambition was to become an author, and that desire resurfaced during an existential crisis, resulting in this novel.

Daphne currently lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her beloved spouse, where she works by day as an Information Technology professional. Her existential crisis continues profitably with her next work, tentatively titled Tales from a Dragon Clan.

Table of Contents

Prologue

The True Beginning

The Family

The War of the Giants

Typhon

Maiden Goddess

Pallas

The Underworld

The First Woman

Persephone

My Inventions

Athens

Ascension

Changes

Love

Consequences

Erichthonius

Hephaestus

A Favor

The Age of Heroes

Isis

Troy

A New World

Valhalla

Expansion

Alexander

Decision

Conquered

Roman Goddess

A New Religion

Opening Gambit

Interlude

End Game

Aftermath

How to Help the Author

Acknowledgements

About the Author