Aphrodite's Flame

20. Magma

The thing I love most about Olympus is the way the light falls. The thing I love least, is how everything was built upon the bones and ashes of our enemies. I do not enjoy the thick air that surrounds me walking down into the cave system under the mountain. I do not take pleasure in the filthy darkness that leaves soot and ash trails on my fair skin. If anything, it reminds me of Persephone and how she relishes the deep, dark Below.

Hermes is with me, but we're not talking. He can't, Zeus literally removed his speech until he comes back to Olympus again. I dare not look over my shoulder, for I pity my friend. I want to ask him where we are going, I want to ask him how long I will be punished for - visions of Apollo down in Tartarus have teased me all night. A lot has happened since my altercation with the God of Gods. And all of it accumulated into the very reason why I'm being brought down right now.

***

After my verbally violent outburst toward Zeus, nothing happened. And it freaked me out more than had he smacked me down and kicked me in the face. Instead, he just looked at me, the first second perplexed and the second after that, seething with rage. If you have known Zeus as long as I have, you must know his ego is fragile. He does not take lightly to insults like mine.

'If I were you, I'd walk away,' he breathed. So I did. I turned around and I ran.

Apart from that, my four months of mourning were almost over and done with. Beautiful Adonis was coming back to me. I was growing restless and excited, knowing I would see him again soon. More importantly, I would get to hold him again.

But ten days before that would happen, everything came crashing down around me.

The second time I saw Zeus, it had been a while. Three months to be exact. Mostly, I avoided him. It's true, I'm afraid of him and I can't help that. But I am also true to my nature, and as I've said before, I am not humble and I am not weak. Not even before the Great Zeus of Olympia. I am a Goddess.

The twelve of us are supposed to come together every 380 years to discuss immortal matters. Although every single one of us lives at the Olympian court, most of us are busy with our own matters and unless married we don't usually see each other that much. Of course, I regularly meet with Artemis and Hermes - and I have my moments with Ares - but that is about it. Almost a year has passed since the latest birth of the hero that brought us together.

I am wearing a golden floorlength dress that is embroidered with red roses. There is no split, there is no cleavage. It even has long sleeves. I give them nothing to talk about.

I'm not the first to arrive. Demeter is already sitting at the block of marble she once punched in two. We make eye contact and she gives me a friendly nod. Pallas Athena, timely as ever, is also already here. She is standing at the tall windows that overlook the Olympian gardens. Hermes, Artemis and Dionysus are standing beside their chairs, talking animatedly while Apollo looks at them, pouting his annoying face.

I turn around when the door opens, expecting to see the god of War walk up to me. But it isn't him. Hera and Hephaestus walk in, neither of whom acknowledge my being there. I hadn't seen Hephaestus in 380 years, to be honest. I hardly recognised him.

Finally, Ares walks into the room and winks at me. I reward him for being on time with a tiny smile before sitting down at the table. He sits down on my direct opposite and smiles warmly, apparently drinking in every detail from what he sees. It never made me uncomfortable watching him undress me with his eyes.

'Looks like everyone is here,' Zeus sighs when he leisurely walks in as well. Right on his tail is Poseidon, an even more intimidating persona than the god of gods. He sits down next to his brother and his eyes scan the room, hovering over me a second longer. Zeus doesn't look at me at all, and I shrink in my seat. Ares' eyes move from me to Zeus and back to me, trying to piece together what he knows with what he sees.

He won't figure it out.

'Let's start with temples and offerings and all that,' Zeus says. 'Have you all seen the structure they built in name of Apollo? Those mortals built it right above a cave opening where toxic gas comes up.' Apollo is positively beaming.

'What about the temple they erected in your name, Athena?' Artemis says, her eyes not leaving her brother. His flame slowly dims. Athena smiles at her, liking wherever this is going.

'O, I wasn't surprised at all. You know what also didn't surprise me? That whore-temple they built for Aphrodite.' My head snaps up and I shoot her an angry look.

'You of all goddesses should respect strong, independent women. Don't ever speak badly of them again, or I will make you regret it.' Athena huffs, but says nothing, crossing her arms in front of her.

The day progresses slowly. We talk about temples and offerings, heroes and half gods, mythical beasts and punishments. Food and drink is brought to the table to announce an intermezzo and after that we will talk about relations, meaning mortals we favoured one way or another. These meetings have never been exciting, but apart from the apparent tension that hangs in the room like a suffocating cloud, I'm bored out of my mind.

After we eat, we talk about Poseidon's relations, move on to Athena and Hera, then to Artemis and Apollo, then me, Ares, Hermes and Demeter. We always end with Dionysus, because he has the best stories. As you can see, two names are missing from the list. Hephaestus never goes to the mortal realm and Zeus goes there too often. We don't talk about his relations anymore since Hera can't deal with them. Her jealous rages have destroyed this room more than once in the past. I can't really blame her.

Hera empties a bowl of pearly water on the table so we can see whoever we talk of; from girls to boys, to nymphs to satyrs, to women to men, to mortals, to heroes, to half-gods. I'm growing uneasy when it's almost my turn. I didn't favour Adonis in any way, but I know they will want to talk about him.

All eyes in the room turn to me when Apollo concludes his story. I can't bare to look at any of them, so instead I concentrate on the water, assuming I'll see Adonis any second now.

Instead, I see a staggering drunk Anchises, shepherd prince, son of Capys and Themiste. Now that I am sober I can definitely say he is not nice, he is not handsome and he is not funny. I cock my head to the side, watching him, wondering what will happen next.