There Goes The Neighborhood

by Georg

Home Sweet Home

“I don’t see why you’re so upset,” harrumphed Hera, Goddessmother of Olympus. “Lift your arm,” she added to her husband.

“I’m not upset,” said Zeus with a scowl, but lifted his arm as directed and allowed his wife to examine the split seam in his tunic. “It just isn’t natural. They’re horses.”

“Alicorns, dear,” said Hera. She threaded her needle and began to stitch the split seam up again. “They’re like Pegasus from all those years ago, only a little more divine and somewhat pointy. I stopped off by their place yesterday and had a wonderful talk with them. Well, Celestia at least. Her sister was sleeping off another bender. Besides,” she added with a harrumph, “for a god who runs around as a bull, I didn’t think you would mind having some equine goddesses around.”

“True,” said Zeus. “Ouch, woman! Watch where you put that needle!”

“Oh, I’m not worried about you fooling around with the new goddesses,” said Hera, calmly sewing her way down the shoulder seam. “Celestia told me her essence is actually made up of the sun, in a metaphorical way, of course. Solar essence made flesh, inside and out, as long as she maintains her control.”

“Oh,” said Zeus in a very small voice as he recalled what had happened to Semele, and the resulting rather odd birth of Dionysus. He scratched at the scar on his thigh as Hera continued.

“And her sister is much the same, only with the moon. Made out of the cold, airless wastes of space and able to freeze even the hottest fire into ice at the slightest touch.” Hera sighed as she sewed. “It seems a shame, but it is their lot in life, and as such, they bear it well. Celestia told me the one thing she missed the most from her previous life is tea, can you imagine that?”

“Tea?” Zeus frowned. “Isn’t that some sort of heathen beverage?”

“You mean something other than the beer and mead you swill?” Hera ran her fingers through her raven locks and huffed. “Cultural center of the gods, indeed. How can we be the envy of other civilizations when we can’t even get tea?”

“Where in Tartarus do you find tea around here?” groused Zeus as he rummaged through the backroom of his favorite bar. “Ambrosia, wine, wine, ambrosia, ambrosia. Where’s the blasted tea?!”

“Isn’t that some sort of heathen beverage?” asked the bartender, an aged Nubian with snow-white hair and only one arm. “I put in an order with Hermes when your wife asked about it last week. He came back with a bunch of dry leaves. Charged me fifty drachma too. Crook.”

“Oh, Nethapletis?” A skimpily-dressed dryad pranced to the doorway and fluttered her lashes at the bartender. “Dionysus is here again. He wants—” the dryad squeezed her eyebrows together and focused as much as was possible for the spirit of a tree to focus without turning into coal “—a double-ambrosia puddle with… something. It’s for his hangover.”

“What in the seven layers of the Underworld is a puddle?” Zeus handed the dryad one of the bottles at random. “Here, take this to my son. He’ll never know the difference.”

“Take it to who?” The look the dryad gave Zeus was devoid of any intelligence, wit, or thought other than a fervent recognition of the two handsome males in front of her, both of whom presently did not have a dryad in their laps.

While attempting to come up with a curse vile enough to fit the situation, the door to the outside slammed open and a piercing bellow filled the taproom.

“Nethapletis! Bring coffee!”

Dionysus groaned.

Zeus sighed.

Nethapletis scurried out into the serving area with a bottle of ambrosia in his arm. “I’m sorry, Your Moonness. We haven’t been able to find any coffee anywhere in Olympus. Would you like a little something to take the edge off your hangover?”

The dark alicorn looked up from the table where she had been resting her head. Twin pits of pure red fire burned where eyes belonged, her mane was tangled and tied into star-strewn knots, and unmentionable bits of debris were still pressed into her silky dark coat. “Coffee,” she rasped before dropping her head back to the table.

Zeus was not heartless. He had been in the same condition the young goddess was presently occupying many times over, although with less stuff stuck to his chest hair. If this ‘coffee’ was a solvent to loosen the hammers of Hephaestus ringing in his head after a night of serious drinking, he would be willing to extend a helping hand, in the interests of all gods, of course.

Lowering his voice to a bare whisper, Zeus asked, “Praytell, beautiful mare, what is this ‘coffee’ of which you speak?”

Scarcely three days later as evening loomed, Zeus sat in the same bar, staring into an earthenware mug in which the essence of Nyx’s night had been captured. Small silvery rings of light danced across the surface in the late afternoon sunlight, forming tiny little rainbows as he swirled it absently. It certainly looked like the worst of poisons, but the dark alicorn had vanquished her first mug of the inky substance without stopping to breathe, and was now working her way to the bottom of a second.

He took a sip. And stopped.

“By the Boar of Erymanthus. There is dread power in this drink.” Zeus wiped off his mustache before it began to dissolve in the hellish substance, but Dionysus had already drained his to the dregs and with the speed of a drunk who had stolen many a drink, had the remainder of Zeus’ mug already in his shaking hands.

“It is not bad,” said the old sot, draining the remainder of Zeus’ mug. “Somewhat weak, though. Is there any stronger?”

“Aye,” shouted the dark alicorn, who had just finished her second mug. “Dry Roast! Attend thy Goddess of the Night.” She eyed Zeus as a small dirt-brown earth sprite in the form of a pony with a pale mane trotted over and bowed before the three of them. “Great Zeus, wouldst thou try a beverage called a ‘cappuccino?’ I must warn you, it is powerful indeed.”

Zeus slammed one fist down on the marble table, which buckled under his blow. “Bring forth this ‘cappuccino’ of which you speak, and we shall see who is the greater.”

“It is so good of you to visit, Great Zeus.” The ‘room’ in which Celestia was entertaining the Allfather was only partially completed, with bare timbers supporting vast marble blocks and an indication of great construction potential without any of the actual construction involved. It looked vaguely like the solarium and rose garden in his own back yard, which the earth sprites had begun construction on one day and vanished the next, taking with them all of the drachmas he had paid them in advance. The newest goddess of the sun had found a marble table somewhere, vaguely circular in shape and decorated with a plate of baked pastries of some sort and a steaming pot. She lifted the pot in her magic and poured an amber liquid into her small cup, then hesitated with the pot over his own cup. “Would you like some tea?”

Zeus eyed the pot suspiciously. “Is it anything like your sister’s devilish brew? I have not slept for three days or nights since our last meeting, and I am just now getting to the point where my heart doth not wish to pound itself out of my chest.”

Celestia’s laughter could have been compared favorably to the tinkling of fairy bells. “Nay, Great Zeus. Although equal, my sister and I are opposites in many things, as our choices in beverages would show. Tea is the nectar of peace, the gentle draught which brings forth wisdom and tranquility of the soul. Its touch is no stronger than a feather and as reassuring as a mother’s caress.”

She pushed the filled teacup over in his direction, but Zeus found his attention caught by a chubby pony in a skirt who was fussing over some sort of device that steamed and smoked with the most delightful scents. With a shock, he realized that the pony manipulating the little silver baskets full of soaked leaves was not a dryad as he expected, but a mortal!

“What are you doing, mortal?” he spluttered, pointing at the misplaced mortal.

“Preparing a second pot, Great Zeus,” said the small mare with a deep bow. “The Silver Needle brew was a good introduction to the art, but I thought a nice Cheighnese Genmaicha would allow for a pleasing aroma around the table while you discussed the progress on the castle with Her Highness.”

Struck speechless, Zeus held his cup of tea loosely while Celestia continued to stir her tea as if nothing was wrong at all. “I really need to have Luna speak with your former ‘cupbearer’ some evening about the proper Olympian protocol for close personal servants. He sounds like such a nice boy. Was Ganymede with you long, Great Zeus?”

“I… Yes, for quite some years before he ascended into the heavens. Hera insisted on the move.”

“You must miss him. The Cosy family has been such an invaluable member of my household for many generations,” said Celestia before a deep inhalation and a small sip from her teacup. “I am so pleased that you permitted my sister to bring Dry Roast to the mountain, and of course as her equal, I then sent for Missus Cosy in order to remain balanced. Life without tea is simply life, I’m afraid. How do you like your tea so far?”

Despite himself, Zeus took a small sip from his teacup and sat in wonder. The purest, most delicate flavors wafted across his tongue and rose as vapor up into his nose. It had the sweet scent of spring, and a brisk gallop across a grassy field with the dew cascading off his cloven hooves while in pursuit of a fair maiden. The fatigue of the day and worries of his position slid off his shoulders as if he had turned into a duck in a rainstorm.

He took a second sip. It was worse than he expected. It was perfect.

“It’s a disgrace, Dionysus,” grumbled Zeus as he nursed a tankard of ambrosia. It had been several days since his experience with ‘tea’ in Celestia’s unfinished temple, and the strangest sensations of pleasure still trickled along his tongue at times, making him wish for another visit to the strange hooved divinity and her strange drinks. It felt comforting to be in a familiar environment, in Nethapletis’ bar with an old drinking companion and no sign of his wife Hera. Still, there was something wrong.

“Itsh a blessing, that’s for certain.” The old sot held out a hand, which did not tremble like a leaf any more. “So many different experiences from one simple bean, Grape Zeus. Wash this.” Dionysus held up a hand and waved it at the bar, where another blasted pony looked back. This one was a silvery-gold in color and looked heroically male, much as if somebody had stuffed a large number of round rocks into a pony skin. Heracles could have given him a run for the money, perhaps, but only if the pony tied one muscle-bound hoof behind him. Dionysus seemed not to notice the elderly Nubian’s replacement and casually placed his order.

“Oh, Bounce. One grande half-caf double-caramel Macchiato with extra foam and a cherry.”

“Coming up,” announced the pony, pulling a large glass from under the bar. “Did you want anything, Great Zeus?”

“Luna,” growled Zeus. “I want to know what that mortal pony is doing in Nethapletis’ bar.”

“Just one moment.” The smaller alicorn stood looking up into the night sky with her horn lit as a few of the smaller flecks of light shifted and danced to her command. Cascades of the glowing night sky flowed like water and continually drew his eyes to her heavenly painting. As she worked, stars and planets alike shone with a vigor he had never seen before, leaving a breathtaking beauty of diamonds pressed onto black velvet. It was so entrancing that he found himself still staring up at the sky long after the dark alicorn had completed her task.

“Doth my sky meet with thy pleasure, Great Zeus?”

“Yes,” blurted out Zeus. It was a little disconcerting to see so many relatives in the sky at once, all looking down at their progenitor/opponent/murderer, but even more disconcerting to see the glow of adoration in the dark eyes of the horse-y goddess.

Cold as the darkness of space. Frozen solid.

“Great Zeus, I’m certain you did not travel all the way here to ask about my humble servant. Is there some other reason you wished to meet with me?” The alicorn moved closer and lowered her voice. “Alone.”

Frozen solid and broken off.

As Zeus stumbled for words, he noticed a dark kerchief draped around the neck of the lunar goddess, with a pattern on it that matched the one on each of her shapely flanks. It was a simply exquisite piece… that is work of art done in silver thread as if moonbeams had been captured in flight and woven into a garment of shimmering darkness.

“Neck,” he managed to stammer. “Very pretty.”

“Dost thou think so?” Luna moved back a step and held a hoof to it. “Great Hera said she wove it from the silk of Arachne and enchanted it with all of her skill to protect me from any dangers here on Olympus. It seemed like such an effort on her part, but we did not wish to disparage thy wife by turning down such a magnificent gift. Dost thou like it?”

After a breath, Zeus nodded reluctantly. The thought of coupling with any creature who wore a garment enchanted by his wife brought more of a chill to his loins than the thought of what he might find beneath Luna’s surface.

Oh, well. There is always her sister. Perhaps a fire-resistance charm such as Hephaestus uses in the forge would help harness her blazing desire. And a harness.

Luna went on. “Of course when I mentioned to your wife that my sister and I are equals, she insisted on having Hephaestus put something together in the form of a golden peytral for Celestia with equivalent enchantments. He’s such a marvelous child. Yours too, I believe, Great Zeus?”

“Yes,” said Zeus flatly.

“Family is so important,” said Luna, still running a hoof over her neck kerchief in order to watch the sparkles of moonlight ripple up and down the cloth. “That’s why I told Dry Roast she could bring her family along, and why I permitted them to run Nethapletis’ bar while he is home visiting his wife. As the Goddess of the Night, I cannot stand in the way of love.”

“And so didst your sister Celestia bring along Miss Cosy,” echoed Zeus, still feeling a little flattened and slightly unnerved as the dark alicorn seemed to drift slightly towards him without moving her hooves.

“The Cosy’s have been serving tea to Celly for a few centuries now,” said Luna. “You don’t get that without a little Cosy or three running around underhoof like cherubs. And of course, a Mister Cosy for comfort on those long, lonely nights.”

“Athena sprang forth from my head, fully armed and armored when Hephaestus chopped it open with an axe,” said Zeus firmly. “Work accident.”

“Ah, yes. Damasippos, friend of Equs.” Luna sighed. “She could scratch behind my ears any day. I’m afraid mortals have to use the conventional methods of reproducing. And speaking of which.” The lunar goddess moved closer until Zeus could feel her cool breath tickling his beard. “What was it you really wanted, now that we’re alone?”

“My rose garden?” Hera blinked in confusion, looking between her husband and the dark winged unicorn who slunk behind him like some acquisitive panther eyeing a tasty rabbit. “You’ve never expressed any interest in my hobby before, my husband. Why now?”

“Why, my darling little flower,” purred Zeus. “I know how much you love your roses, and ever since those earth sprites failed to finish the magnificent garden which you deserve, I’ve been looking for a way to give it to you.”

“At least somepony’s getting some,” murmured Luna.

“So the main trellises are supposed to go here,” said Zeus in a loud voice as he waved a hand around the darkened garden, glowing silver in the moonlight. “With a deep bed of fertile soil to support them, and…”

“…a series of curved grecian arches around the periphery,” said the stocky pony around the chalk stick in his mouth. He continued to scribble on his slate with brief glances around the unfinished garden while Zeus watched. It seemed like such an innocuous point to give in. After all, the earth sprites had shown up for work once and he never saw them again. Certainly these ‘earth ponies’ would do the same.

“I think we can take care of this for you, Great Zeus. I’ll have some of the boys here first thing in the morning and we should be finishing up in two weeks. If you’ll just sign here.” The stocky brown pony hoofed over the slate, filled to the top with little squiggly figures and lines, with one empty spot at the bottom which Zeus charred black with a short zap of lightning. “And that will do it, sir.”

Zeus paused at the outstretched bare hoof of the pony, held flat to shake his hand instead of palm-up, like every other contractor he had dealt with. “What about the fee? Is it not customary to pay in advance for the work?”

“Don’t worry about that, Great Zeus,” said the pony. “Luna said she’d give it to you as a gift. She was quite insistent.”

“Some gift,” said Zeus as he looked out across the garden. The construction ponies had not only completed it ahead of schedule, but used the initial plans as a starting point for much more. A thin silver stream gurgled and bubbled around the edge of the garden in long, slow curves between hedges and rosebushes, while a pebbled pathway wound its way through the flourishing flowers and bushes. There was even a small sweeping footbridge in the middle of the garden next to a bubbling fountain and a bench, on which a pony strumming a harp provided a gentle musical counterpoint to the noises of nature. It was a pure place of absolute beauty that he had deliberately stepped out of his sandals to walk through with his bare toes in the pebbles and short grass. It was, in a word, perfect, particularly for Hera Allmother, who he could plainly see at a window high in the mansion where she could look down into the garden and see every single shaded corner and niche where he could have tucked a young goddess away for some private attention.

He wandered over to the bench and sat down, trying to determine if he should be pleased or discouraged by the magnificent gift and the way in which it had been given. It was a decision which required much thought, and the environment of the garden was the perfect place to do it. He relaxed with his bare feet out in the short-cropped grass and enjoyed the occasional droplet of water that escaped out of the burbling fountain, but the mood of the area was far too dark for his taste. He turned to the pony sitting on the bench besides him, and was almost ready to tell him to take his lyre and begone when Zeus noticed two things. First, the mortal pony was female, with a coat the of soft green the color of new-mown grass and a smaller fluted horn, much like Celestia.

Second, she was crying.

Trails of wet tears trickled down her cheeks as she stroked the lyre with all the delicacy and care of a lover embracing her beloved. Her lips moved along with unspoken words while she played, and even Zeus could feel his massive heart twinge in sympathetic pain as the passion and sorrow of her music enveloped him.

It was Orpheus all over again. If it were not for the fact that Hades had assured him that the blasted musician and his wife Eurydice were profoundly happy in his realm, Zeus would have considered the heathen concept of reincarnation. The notes and unspoken words dragged down Zeus’ soul as the pony played until he was forced to gasp, “Stop!”

“I am so sorry, Great Zeus,” said the pony without missing a note on her lyre. “I cannot stop playing or my heart would shatter like glass.”

“Why?” he managed to gasp while considering just how large a thunderbolt to use on the cursed beast in order not to disrupt the garden she was playing in.

“I sing for my best friend, who I had to leave behind in order to play for you, Great Zeus,” whispered the unicorn. “I would have turned Celestia down, but playing in your gardens is a great honor and a privilege, far beyond anypony has ever been gifted before. My friend, she insisted that I come to your mountain and play, even though she knew I might never return, and she could never join with me here.” She ran her hoof over the strings, coaxing out a stanza of notes that fairly dripped with tears. It was not entirely metaphorical, as most of the nature sprites in the area were sobbing along with every note, making the whole garden feel dismal and much more in line with his brother Hades’ domain.

“Your lover, she is another mortal, I presume,” said Zeus once he could catch his breath.

“We’re friends,” insisted the unicorn. “Very good friends. And yes, she is a mortal, although her beauty could be compared with, but not surpassing any of the goddesses on this mountain.”

Obviously, the musician was both talented and smart, because there were at least a half-dozen goddesses who would have shown up in a flash of fire if she had called her lover more beautiful than any of the jealous divine bitches.

Why does a radiant beauty and hot temper always come wrapped in the same package?

“Zeus!” blasted the voice of Hera Allmother across the garden from her perch in the high above mansion window, much as a vulture would crouch during her search for prey. “Are you bothering my new musician?”

“No, Honeybunch!” he called back, still irate at the way the insolent unicorn continued playing without interruption. “We were just discussing how much she misses her good friend and would like to return to the mortal world to be with her.”

“I have to stay,” called out the annoying unicorn. “My destiny is to be here and perform for the greatest of all the gods and goddesses.”

“You want to be with her,” hissed Zeus under his breath.

“I have to stay here,” she sang in return.

Later that evening as Zeus was getting ready to go to sleep, he opened his window and gazed out into the beautiful moonlit garden with the wafting notes of a sad dirge drifting up to his stars.

“Go home!” he shouted.

There was no reply other than the sorrowful notes of her continuing song as Zeus slammed the window closed and flopped down in bed, which groaned beneath the weight of the two mighty rulers of Olympus.

“I don’t know why you make such a big deal out of having a little music out in my garden, Honeybear,” purred Hera, slipping a little closer to her hefty husband.

“I know exactly what’s going to happen,” huffed Zeus. “It’s just like Orpheus all over again. I’m glad I put a thunderbolt into him when I had the chance. She’s going to sit out there and play her heart out, night and day, until she gets me to let her blasted pony friend in to keep her company, and then there will be no end of the pestilent creatures.”

“I think it’s sweet. Romantic, even, although she denies that. Besides, there’s nothing really wrong with ponies.” Hera ran a finger up Zeus’ arm and toyed with the ringlets of beard running across his chest. “I was over at Celestia’s new temple today, watching the earth ponies work. All those muscles, sweating and straining in the sun.”

Zeus grunted in reply, although he did relax somewhat. Hera was not the only resident of the household who appreciated a sweaty, muscular body. Her eyes might wander at times, but her thighs never did, which was one thing he was grateful for. Sometimes the chase was far more exciting than the catching, but there was one goddess who always got caught properly at the end, and she was the one running her fingers across his bare chest.

“I think you deserve a little something special for being so tolerant of my whims,” she added with a tweak of her powers to unmanifest the bedroom lamp.