Dealing with Drama

Fought For

Time: Same Time

It wouldn't be wrong to say that the Olympian Throne Room was almost none existent at that point. The only thing that remained were twelve thrones that had been somehow salvaged, and a massive quicksand pit where children could play every Sunday. At least Zeus left Olympus one public amenity, right?

Yes, Percy's humour is not at his best right now.

Grey clouds, darker and larger than ever before, rolled across the sky like an endless ocean of almost black, blocking out the stars and the moon and plunging the world below in darkness. Occasional flashes of lightning lit up the sky, followed by peals of thunder that sounded even more ominous than normal. It felt like the sky was glaring down at them, reflecting its now-deceased Lord's feelings, unleashing an endless torrent of rain that drummed relentlessly on every surface.

But no matter how much the sky tried to exact vengeance, it only resulted in a refreshing night for many, the stuffy October heat replaced by a strong, cool breeze that brought a gentle, refreshing spray across the face, the pitter-patter of raindrops comforting, on every leaf and every roof. The emerald leaves of the trees glistened with water, leaves heavy with crystalline droplets that rolled to the tip, before dripping to the ground below with a small splash, creating small puddles.

Percy felt the endless rain hit him, setting up a gentle pitter-pattering on his skin. Rivulets of water streamed down the side of his face, his hair drenched and sticking to his skin, glistening black in the lights of the city.

The entirety of Olympus seemed to have turned up for the occasion. Every single light in the entire damn city was turned on, bathing the world in light that clashed with and overpowered the natural darkness that threatened to shroud the world, making Percy wince at how bright and loud everyone was. It seemed like he had vastly underestimated the population of Olympus, especially with all the nymphs, naiads, dryads, satyrs and other nature spirits pitched in. The crowds thronged the streets of Olympus, curious to know what had just happened. Rumours spread like wildfire, and somehow, someone had blabbed that Zeus was dead, bringing the entirety of Olympus out on the streets in rebellion or rejoice, Percy could barely tell.

The minor gods and goddesses erected small barriers protecting them from the lashing rain, and so did the rest of the Olympians gathered there. Well, all except Percy and Poseidon, they could not get enough of the rain. The nature spirits took after them, of course, never getting enough of the cool, refreshing rain and the gentle breeze.

The demigods of Camp Half-Blood and Chiron were protected from the rain thanks to Hestia, who was sitting by her usual place by the dry hearth.

The demigods of the soon-to-be-renamed Camp Jupiter and New Rome were excluded from this emergency meeting that Percy would have avoided if he could, to spare most, if not all, the gods present there a splitting headache. They would be tuned in later.

Even without them, Percy could feel a massive headache coming on.

The nervous, confused whispers of the entirety of the Greek pantheon and their shuffling footsteps on the pavement tended to do that.

Percy coughed, though not intentionally, drawing the entire attention of everyone present there to him. As if it wasn't on him already.

The twelve remaining Olympians had managed to drag their respective thrones out of the quicksand, and were now convening an emergency meeting outside the old, demolished Throne Room, sitting in the classic U shape.

Twelve? You ask. How?

Well, Percy might or might not have 'accidentally' turned the thrones of Ares, Hera and Zeus into dust while trying to lug them out of the quicksand, thereby permanently killing off Ares and Zeus, and leaving Hera little better than a demigod.