Stories Of Zoltah

The Isle of Delos

Zeus sat atop his throne in the court on Mount Olympus, gazing absent-mindedly at the open double doors ahead, set across a sweeping, white marbled floor. His thick, greying hair which matched his curled grey beard, flowed down his shoulders and touched the white of his flowing chiton, while etched in a scowl, his stern face was set with electric blue eyes. To his side, Hera, the queen of Olympus sat slouched backwards on her own throne, her short, bristly hair tucked away underneath her sparkling gem-studded crown, which sat atop a sharp, pale face and lingering, emerald green eyes. Next to them on either side, empty seats set lower than the thrones stretched forth in a semi-circle, all facing the enchanted floor, which at the moment showed a bustling, dusty street – Olympians in gowns, robes and chitons making their way past white-pillared structures. A large eagle suddenly swooped in through the open doors, soaring into the air and circling overhead while drawing Zeus's attention to the golden ceiling above. Briefly glancing at it, and then resting his eyes onto Hera, the king of Olympia frowned and said:

"I would have thought that they would have returned by now, the forges are not nearly as far –"

"They have their own lives to lead!" hissed Hera, still slouched backwards. "This court is all you have known since the Uplifting, you never leave but sit in here day and night. It is as though – " she thought better of it and faltered.

"Speak your mind, dear wife," snarled Zeus, "as you have done all these years..."

"It is as though the court has become your prison!" sneered Hera, finally drawing herself up and rounding on her throne to face Zeus, "and I am doomed to sit here with you! Forever wasting awa –"

"You do not have to be here!" thundered Zeus, "you are free to come and go as you please and yet you never leave my side. Do not speak as though I have somehow enslaved you!"

"Oh but you have, husband, you have!" hissed Hera, sliding off from the throne and prowling towards Zeus with her back arched and sharp-nailed fingers curled, "Because of your escapades I can no longer trust you! How many more women? And how many more offspring will come crawling out of the shadows? No, husband. We will sit here together, side by side until death do us part..." said Hera, bringing her face in closer to Zeus's.

The both of them, heaving furiously with supressed rage, glared into each other's eyes, unaware of the footsteps echoing along the halls and making their way towards the court. Moments later, Apollo came triumphantly striding in, leading his small band of warriors who each gripped a limb of the struggling dwarf, Ivaldi.

"Mother, Father. I have returned!" he called out from the open double doors, stretching his arms wide as though beckoning for a hug. Snarling in Zeus's face one last time, Hera quickly arranged her face into a beaming smile and rounded to face the court.

"My son," she said, offering up her hands as she swept forward to meet him, her gown resplendent with glittering crystals, "I knew you would return to us safely! Was there any trouble in reaching Asgard?"

Apollo, striding faster across the marble floor, thrust himself forward into Hera's arms and hugged her tightly. After a long moment's embrace, in which Hera stroked Apollo's florescent hair and cajoled him with promises of his favourite dishes, Zeus rose to his feet, angered by the manner in which Hera coddled their son.

"I see the chariot held steady!" he boomed from the throne in an attempt to draw their attention away from each other. Clearing his throat, Apollo gestured to the warriors jostling feet behind with the squirming dwarf; together they marched across the floor towards Zeus.

"A finer chariot, we will not find anywhere!" replied Apollo, striding to a halt ahead of the enchanted cloud in the floor. It now showed rolling hills, strewn with flocks of sheep bleating happily into the midday sky.