The Sea's Serpent

The Chains

AN: Sorry it took me so long to actualizar, you old perverted fucking motherfucker. The other old, perverted fucking motherfucker, (my palaeontology Prof.) was going all out with the exams.

Time: Same time

Artemis immediately flashed to Olympus; seeing that it was already quite late. She was most probably going to be the last god there.

Like every month, she was indeed the last god there. Artemis shrugged. Suspense is good.

All chatter stopped the moment she stepped into the Olympian Throne Room.

It had quite changed since Percy's time. Now, the entirety of the oak door was covered in Zeus' achievements. No engraving of any hero remained. The hearth burned low. The entire throne room reeked of expensive perfume and wine, like the courtrooms of any gluttonous emperor.

Each of the other thirteen Olympians held the same expression they had this time, every month, for the last four millennia. Those who had condemned him to death looked scared out of their lives. Hestia, Apollo, and Hades looked hopeful. Athena caught Artemis' eye as she looked up from her book briefly to smile at her. Her eyes were wet with tears.

Artemis gulped down the lump in her throat. She shifted from foot to foot as she stood in front of her father, head down. She glared at the foot of his throne. She could feel his frightened stare that bored deep into her head. His chiton was crinkled, and still reeked of mortals. And for once, Hera did not notice. She was too scared for her own life.

Then, there was Dionysus. The god of wine was asleep. He didn't care.

The agitation had laid a cloak of dread over the entirety of Mt.Olympus. The market was silent and deserted, as it had been that fateful day. Apollo's light had been blocked out by some dark clouds, plunging Olympus in darkness. Inside every house, every immortal that had been there when he was executed, stared into their televisions; as they were shown a live telecast of the Olympian Council Meeting.

It began to rain, along with thunder. At first, it was only a drizzle, before it began a torrential downpour. Puddles collected in the empty streets. The few godlings who had been playing football in the rain had to rush for cover. However, it was not the rain that was seen as a blessing that provided the crops with water. There was thunder, and Artemis could tell from experience that the rain would not stop until the next day, when almost all lands were under at least six feet of water. The day was grey. The plants wilted, the trees battered by the strong winds.

A streak of lightning illuminated the dull and drab day. It darkened Zeus' face, so Artemis had no way to see his expression. There were enormous French windows behind him, through which she could see the overcast sky. A peal of thunder tore through Mt. Olympus, making Artemis cringe. The sound hadn't even receded yet, and its echoes still reverberated through the Throne Room. Zeus spoke, "Artemis, what is his status?"

The King had hoped that once he had the thrown the Son of Poseidon into the Void, he was free of him. He was in for a nasty surprise.

His hair was grey, he hadn't had time to trim his now scraggly beard. His eyes were sunken, and cheeks were hollow. He seemed to suffer from a terminal disease that would make him fade. His face held the countenance of a long-dead and wilted flower.

Artemis took a deep breath, steadying herself for the chaos that she knew would invariably follow her declaration. The gods leant towards her in anticipation.