There Goes The Neighborhood

by Georg

Clay

After several days of having mournful lyre music pursue Zeus all around his magnificent mansion, Zeus was about ready to blow his top. Unfortunately, or fortunately in certain cases, the same music which was driving the Allfather to drink was also being treated by Hera as the second greatest thing that had ever happened to her, other than him. She actually danced through the hallways and rooms of their house, leaving a trail of clothing behind at times and pulling him into passionate embraces at the least provocation or musical notes.

It was very confusing. Fun, but confusing.

Of course, the place where Zeus found the most respite from confusing thoughts was Nethapletis’ bar, where those overactive ideas could be drowned under waves of the finest ambrosias and wines in Olympus, provided that Dionysus had not made himself comfortable behind the bar for a few days first. It was his home away from home, a comforting place where he could use his own name in vain, prop his sandals up on the table, and relax without a single reminder of the stresses which had driven him here.

Unfortunately, the stress of having a lyre-playing pony in his garden was not quite so easily evaded. The section of marble bar where Zeus was sitting and glowering used to be scarred and pitted with the memories of a thousand riotous parties and more than one accidentally released thunderbolt. Although the memories remained, the marble bar was now as smooth and markless as a mirror, and being polished to a fine gloss by the bulky bartender pony behind it. A different pony who had been in Nethapletis’ bar than the last time Zeus had dropped by.

“Good evening, Great Zeus,” said the bulky pony with a deep and respectful bow. “What might I prepare for your pleasure?”

“Where’s Nethapletis?” growled Zeus.

“Still visiting his family,” said the pony. “My name is Slammer, and I’d be happy to prepare whatever drinks you wish. Before Nethapletis left, he told me about every one of the drinks he knows.”

That must have been a short conversation: Ambrosia, beer and wine, goodbye.

“Ambrosia,” muttered Zeus. “Now.”

“Any particular flavor?” asked Slammer with a cheerful smile while he snagged a gleaming tankard out from under the bar and held it under a tap as the glowing nectar of the gods began to flow.

“Ambrosia flavored,” snapped Zeus, although after a brief pause, he added, “Flavors?”

“Coconut, melon, cherry, lime, lemon, mint, sage, apple and tulip, although—” Slammer lowered his voice and added “ — I should have some piri piri flavoring coming in next week when Nethapletis returns. It’s supposed to be hotter than the sun.”

“Ambrosia flavored,” muttered Zeus. After watching the pony slide the filled tankard down the bar to within a hair’s breadth of his hands, he picked it up and took a long swig of the sweet nectar inside. It was cool and delicious, much as it had been ever since the first gods had distilled the essence from… whatever it was Dionysus had first managed to find drinkable, he supposed. Somewhere after his fourth tankard, Zeus frowned down at the frothy surface of the beverage and took a long look at the bartender.

“Do I hear music?” asked Zeus with his head cocked to one side and his frown growing.

The bartender beamed in response. “Why, yes, Great Zeus! All of the best drinking establishments in the mortal world have musical entertainment, and I found one of the greatest musicians ever who was willing to perform part-time here. All of the patrons have really enjoyed having her here, even if she is a little depressing. Would you like to meet her?”

Zeus turned his head slowly, regarding the green unicorn at the far end of the room with a lyre tucked under her chin and a dense crowd around her who had all been mesmerized into tears by her quiet song. Then he turned his head back to the smiling bartender.

“Let me try one of those with flavoring. Any flavor,” he snapped, cutting off the bartender’s expected question. “And keep them coming.”

By the time he passed out, Zeus determined that he could not figure out which was his favorite flavoring to add to ambrosia, but he did determine that mint-green was his least favorite.

The mixture of leftover ambrosia flavors percolating up from his gut gave Zeus the most peculiar feeling of effervescent floating mixed with the pounding in his temples as he dragged himself through the partially-completed doorway to the Temple of the Sun and Moon. The hammering and rapping of stonework in the process of mortal shaping echoed through his head as he peered into various rooms in various states of completion. It was pleasing to see the ponies inside promptly flatten into a deep bow at the first sight of him, but it was starting to get annoying by the time he found Celestia out in a small garden, tending to a cluster of flowering bushes with wilted leaves.

“Great Zeus!” she exclaimed, nodding her head in a deep bow. “We are so honored to receive you in our humble home. How might we assist you this glorious morn?”

“A few signs or people to point the way around this place might help,” he grumbled. “It took forever to find you.”

“Alas, my guards from home are mortal, and therefore not permitted on the mountain,” she lamented. “Nor are my gardeners,” she added, nudging one wilted leaf of the drooping bush.

“No more mortals,” growled Zeus. After a brief pause to listen for the sound of lyre music, Zeus added, “What’s more, send that blasted musician back to her ‘beloved.’” He paused again and lowered his voice. “And don’t let Hera know.”

“I’m sorry she did not work out, Great Zeus. Hera was just telling me yesterday how much she enjoyed having a little music in her garden. Has she been keeping you up at night? You look… unwell.”

“Hangover,” grumbled Zeus.

“Ah,” said Celestia, using one hoof to nudge an immobile dark lump nearly concealed behind the bush in her unfinished garden. “I had no idea my sister admired you so much as to attempt to emulate your present condition. Dearest Luna, might our illustrious host borrow some of your precious feverfew flowers for a tea to calm his discomfort?”

An affirmative grunt sounded from behind the bush and Celestia used her magic to harvest several of the flowers, dropping them into a nearby teapot which Zeus had not noticed before. “Pardon the delay, Great Zeus, but it will be just a few minutes before the tea is ready. I had originally thought your visit was in regards to the payment that should have been made to the earth sprites for our temple. We had sent a letter with Hermes to our engineer, Apollo, to see if he could slip in a quick favor if he has any time during his internship at the hospital, but have not yet received an answer.”

Zeus paused from rubbing his temples to give a great sigh. Giving anything to Hermes to deliver was much like committing it to the eternal pit or banishing it to Tartarus, because you would never see it again, and neither would anybody else. Still, he was a son to Zeus, and he felt obligated to speak up in his defense.

“Your letter may have gotten lost in the great multitude that my son is entrusted with everyday to deliver—” and the miniscule proportion he actually does “—to the far ends of the world.” A troubling word from Celestia’s quiet sentence penetrated the hammering in his head and he added, “What is this about a missing payment to the earth sprites? I delivered the drachmas into their greedy little hands myself!” Zeus extended a hand and golden coins showered down onto the grass as he manifested his will upon his treasury and transported a small fraction of their contents, leaving a small hill of glittering gold.

Celestia, as he expected, was thrilled. “What a wonderful ability, Great Zeus! Why, whenever I need a few bits, I always have to send a servant down to the bank. It must be so convenient to transport…” She trailed off as she lifted one of the golden drachma in her magic and hefted it in mid-air. “Oh.”

“The finest of Theban gold, crafted into coins by…” He trailed off also as he scooped up a fistful of the coins and judged their weight, or lack thereof. Twisting one of the coins in half, he scowled at the crumbling interior. “Clay?”

“Indeed,” said Celestia, glaring at the coin she held as if it had done something unspeakable to her. “Barely washed with gold, leaving less value than seawater. No wonder the earth sprites did not accept them as payment.”

A dark aura of magic surrounded one of the coins and drew it into the darkness underneath the bush, where presumably Luna examined it in the shadows. “What foul creatures would debase noble coinage in such a fashion? Why, if somepony were to do this to our beloved bits, I would scourge—”

“Luna!” scolded Celestia. “Manners.” She turned to Zeus with that practiced smile that seemed to make the very air in the garden glitter with sunlight. “I’m certain it is merely an oversight, Great Zeus. If you wish, I shall send my sister to deal with… I mean discuss things with your bankers as not to trouble you over such trivialities.”

“I shall pack my whips,” growled Luna under her breath.

Celestia continued to smile, although with a tiny bit of strain showing through as Zeus crumbled the handful of false drachma in his fist. He let the crumpled fragments of clay fall to the grass as he brushed his hand on his toga and stood up.

“Nay, Celestia. This is an affair of family, for the vaults in which I keep my treasure reside within the domain of my brother, Hades. I would have words with him. Harsh words.”

“Beg pardon, Great Zeus.” The rumpled and hung-over form of Luna crawled out from under the bush, allowing her to to stretch her wings and shake a few pieces of dry grass from her dark coat. “You are fraught with wrath now, and will be unable to converse with your brother in a calm and reasoned fashion. I know the feeling well, as there are times which I have clashed with mine own sister and only in hindsight was I aware of the need for a cooler head to act as an intermediary. Pray, allow me to accompany you into the Realm of the Blessed Dead and stand at your side while you speak with your brother.”

At first, Zeus nearly turned her down, but after a moment’s contemplation, he noticed the sparkle in Luna’s eyes. After all, the trip to the Underworld was covered in shadows where Hera’s eyes would not peer, and the dark goddess still had not been properly introduced to her new home.

“Agreed, Fair Luna. Attend me. We depart at once for the Underworld.”