Towering above the plains and mountains of Greece, but only in a metaphorical way because the physical mountain Olympus could only be in one place without an enormous amount of physical effort being expended by mortals to move it, while the home of the gods could be wherever or whenever they wanted it to be…
Where was I? Oh, yes. Mount Olympus.
Olympus was a peaceful place, relatively. And most of those relatives were related to Zeus, Father of the Gods (and sometimes grandfather, or uncle, or second cousin once removed, but we digress.) Zeus Allfather (and sometimes other relative as mentioned earlier) surveyed his domain with a smug sense of satisfaction. Drunken debauchery would start shortly, as the sun was about to rise and shake any number of nubile dryads and satyrs from their exhausted slumber so they could begin frolicking among the immense number of hanging gardens and little private nooks across the mountain, each just the right size for two young gods and goddesses, or maybe three.
“Zeus!” The amount of lungpower Hera could exert in a single word shook the windows and rattled the roof tiles of their huge heavenly home. “Have those two new goddesses shown up yet?”
“No, Honeybunch!” called back Zeus, concealing a wince. Gods and goddesses seemed to show up on Olympus every week, but he had been looking forward to meeting these two without the presence of Hera Allmother looking over his shoulder. They were supposed to be sisters, the next best thing to twins, and of inestimable beauty and grace too. Young goddesses always enjoyed being shown around by the biggest god on the mountain and introduced to the (ahem) pleasures of their new home.
He conjured up a quick brass mirror and checked his reflection in the glow of the impending sunrise, manifesting a little more hair around his receding hairline and putting a bit more dimple into his chin. Even Hera Allmother could not watch everywhere, and since Argus had been ‘accidentally’ killed by Hermes, the number of eyes following Zeus had been reduced by a substantial fraction. At least one of the sisters was going to get lucky today, if Zeus had anything to say about it.
And he did.
The sound of approaching hooves in the darkness distracted Zeus from ensuring his hairstyle was properly parted, so he unmanifested the mirror and struck a noble pose, turning towards the oncoming lucky goddesses with a broad smile and a loud, “Welcome to Olym—”
SILENCE!
The window Zeus had been standing beside blew out in a cloud of glassy powder while the clatter of roof tiles across the uncompleted garden behind the house gave notice that part of the roof above his head had became somewhat less of a roof and more of a framework where said tiles once rested. Zeus himself was blown back several cubits and temporarily blinded by the blast of wind accompanying the ear-bursting volume of the most certainly goddess-level command. As his ears finished ringing and he blinked the dust out of his eyes, he could feel his heart beating faster and an irresistible smile start to spread across his face. Now that was the voice of a goddess, powerful and strong, not like the shrill harping and complaining of his beloved and far too attentive wife. He turned back in the direction of the new arrivals with a genuine smile and a little bit of a leer leaking out around the edges. He looked up, past the tall legs and flowing manes of the horses the goddesses had ridden to his door and was just opening his mouth to greet them (in a far quieter fashion) when he noticed a certain absence of goddessness on top of the horses.
Perhaps they are very small. Or invisible.
“Excuse me.” This voice was very soft, and whispered as if it were at the bottom of an immense avalanche waiting to happen. “Great Zeus, sir. I’m so pleased to meet you after all these years.”
Of all things, the horse’s mouth was moving to match the words. It was a magnificent horse indeed, with broad white wings and a spiraling horn coming out of its forehead, much as if the best parts of a unicorn and Pegasus had been brought together into one perfect being. A river of pastel colors pooled around its bare hooves from a cascade of glowing hair flowing down from its tail and majestic mane. Topping the whole elegant sight was a small golden crown fitted with a violet gem, which glittered in the darkness as if it held sunlight just ready to burst out across the dark mountain.
While Zeus attempted to make sense out of his surroundings, the horse cleared her throat again. “Pardon me, Great Zeus? If this is a bad time, we can come back later.”
“We?” murmured Zeus as he finally became fully aware of a second horse of somewhat smaller stature leaning against the first, seemingly sleeping on its hooves with a small whinnying snore. Where the large winged and horned horse was a creamy white with brilliant pastel mane, this one smaller one was of a much darker hue, closer to indigo, or even black in the pre-dawn glow and waning moonlight of Zeus’ doorway.
The snoring horse gave out a little snort when the taller horse nudged it and whispered, “Luna, wake up. We’re here. Luna? You’re embarrassing me again. You know how important first impressions are.” The white horse smiled at Zeus, in a genuine way which somehow made the Father of the Gods feel as if he had just done something wonderful and deserved a pat on the head. “I’m sorry, Great Zeus. My sister was so excited at being elevated to full goddesshood I’m afraid… She tried to out-drink this nice gentleman named Dionysus. Your son, I believe.”
“Oh,” said Zeus, having attempted the heroic feat once himself, and suffered the consequences afterwards. Then after a moment, “I see.”
“And Silenus,” said the white horse.
“Oh,” said Zeus. That was one heroic feat he had never attempted.
“And a zebra named Mbaba Mwana Waresa, I believe.”
“Quiet, my sister,” whispered the dark horse. “Pleaaaaaase?”
A certain phrase which had been percolating through Zeus’s fairly thick skull finally made contact with some active brain cells. “Elevated to goddesshood?”
The white horse seemed to be set back a step. “Oh, I’m sorry, Great Zeus. We failed to introduce ourselves. I am Celestia, Goddess of the Sun, and this is my sister—”
“Another goddess of booze?” prompted Zeus at Celestia’s brief pause and the smaller horse’s whimper. “We have far too many of those already.”
Celestia sighed and managed to roll her eyes without interrupting her pleasant smile. “Luna, Goddess of the Moon. And moonshine, it appears.”
“I thought we already had a goddess of the moon,” said Zeus with a thoughtful frown. “Selene, wasn’t it? She drives her chariot across the sky at night.”
“Blasted heavy hunk of celestial wood,” muttered the dark horse, seeming to try to tunnel into her sister’s neck as a pillow. “Far easier just to stay on the firmament and lift.”
“Selene has been an alias of my sister for many, many years,” whispered Celestia. “People seemed to accept her better if they believed the goddess of the moon had toes and fingers.”
“Wait a moment,” said Zeus as he considered the possibility. “You can not tell me Apollo is a myth. He is my own son.” He paused and looked over his shoulder for Her Motherness and gave a quick prayer of thankfulness to himself that Hera was still in the house.
Celestia shrugged. “I’ve been pulling the chariot by myself while your son has been interning in a hospital down there for the last decade or so. He’s about to become a resident in internal medicine. Hasn’t Hermes been bringing your letters? I know he’s been writing to you and his mother Leto. He’s such a good boy.”
“Why, yes he is.” Eyes darting back and forth, Zeus quickly tried to move the conversation on to a subject which would not result in Hera berating him around the house for another of his excess progeny outside of the maternal pantheon. “Of course, before you are accepted as full goddesses, you will need to demonstrate—”
Luna’s horn glowed a dark indigo and the moon slid down below the horizon just as smoothly as if it were being pulled on a string. She stuffed her face even firmer into Celestia’s neck and whimpered, “Have mercy, Celly. Make it quick.”
“I’m sorry, Luna. It’s time.” Celestia’s horn glowed gold and the sun rose up in all of its glory with crimson clouds and a distant trumpet fanfare. Rays of brilliant sunlight coruscated across the sky in a shimmering display of heavenly glory which lit Mount Olympus in a majesty it had never seen before. Birds across the mountain burst into ecstatic song, a sparkling rainbow spread across the heavens above, and Zeus could not help but take a deep breath of the fresh morning air and feel several centuries younger.
“I do think the salpinx did a marvelous job with the trumpet fanfare, don’t you Great Zeus?” Celestia stood facing into the sun with her mane blowing behind her in such glorious display that Zeus could swear he heard a number of nature sprites in the garden diving for their paintbrushes and easels.
“Ahh… Yes.” Zeus cleared his throat. There could only be one Allfather Zeus on the mountain, and this horse was treading close to the line. “There is one more problem needing addressed. You see, Olympus has a rather strict immigration policy. Divine humans only. We’ve never had—” Zeus looked over the two divine equines, from pointy horns to hooves “—horses as permanent residents before.”
“Totally understandable,” said Celestia, nodding her head. “But I could not help but notice on our way here how many nymphs and dryads were awakening to begin their cavorting around.”
“Staff,” said Zeus.
“Adorable ones too,” said Celestia. “Cute little rumps and darling little breasts. There must be such a cloth shortage here, because the whole bunch seemed to be sharing one kerchief as an outfit. And they looked chilly.”
Zeus cast a quick glance behind him for Hera. “Other than the nymphs and dryads, we’re a very human organization.”
“And satyrs,” said Celestia.
“Oh, and them,” said Zeus.
“And sprites,” said Celestia.
“Yes,” said Zeus. “All perfectly valid residents.”
“...and here we have the end of the tour, your new homes.” Zeus delivered the line in a near-whisper, out of respect for the younger of the two new goddesses who had walked through the entire tour of the mountain with her head leaning against her sister and her eyes closed. Normally when he gave ‘The Tour’ for new female residents of Olympus, the event included several interesting little side trips into quaint little corners of the mountain where a few refreshments and comfortable reclining spots had been tucked away out of Hera Allmother’s sight.
Since the wife in question had been one step behind Zeus all the way through the tour today, the journey had been a little shorter than usual, and completed in about half of the time with none of the side-trips he had been looking forward to. What was worse, Zeus had felt almost ignored during the trip about the mountain. Various gods and goddesses he could barely even remember came out of the woodwork, each to greet Zeus Allfather as he deserved, of course, but also to shake hooves with the new arrivals, or at least the one who was awake. And what was worse, Celestia knew them individually by name, even the dryads and nymphs, who had been positively fascinated by her flowing mane to the point where Zeus had to chase them away like swarming butterflies.
There was supposed to be a temple for each of the arriving minor deities, built by the earth sprites with the collection of drachma donated by eager worshipers. On a good day, pillars and plinths would just seem to erupt out of the rich soil as the invisible workers toiled with supernatural strength and skill, but on a bad day, lichen moved faster, and formed squarer corners.
This was a particularly bad day in Olympus.
The open area where the Temple of the Sun and Moon was supposed to be was still an open area, thick with the rich green grass which sprang up wherever the raw earth of the mountain touched blessed sunlight, but no shelter at all. If it were not for the presence of Hera Allmother directly behind Zeus, he might have offered the sisters a replacement room in his own mansion with a few extra little side-benefits thrown in on top. Or maybe bottom, depending on the situation. As it was, Zeus was just getting ready to apologize when Celestia gave a loud cry of pure delight and sank to her knees.
“Great Zeus! It’s perfect.” She buried her nose in the grass and took a huge bite, chewing with a look of pure ecstasy as she looked back up at Zeus and Hera. “S’fantastic! Oh, Great Zeus, I’ll never be able to thank you enough! I feel centuries younger!”
The large white horse rolled over and over through the thick grass like a little filly, making intricate patterns of flattened grass as she kicked up her heels and fluttered her wings on her delighted trip. It took several minutes of staring for Zeus to remember her darker sister, but when he looked, Luna was curled up into a sleeping ball with her own nose in the grass, taking tiny nibbles as she slept.
“That’s… good, Celestia,” said Zeus, watching the sizable goddess lay on her back with all four hooves kicking up in the air and her wings spread wide along the grass. “Are you certain this is sufficient?” He looked around the empty lot, untouched except for the long lines of matted grass where Celestia had rolled.
“Absolutely, Great Zeus.” Her horn glowed a bright gold and Celestia’s tiara floated up into the air before drifting to one side to hover. “Oh, sunstroke. I don’t have anyplace to put my things.”
“Things?” Zeus looked at the floating tiara and tried to figure out how it became plural.
“Oh, yes.” Celestia rolled over on her belly and looked up. “Just my crown, the perch, and a few little things from home.”
“Perch?” Zeus was getting a little tired of monosyllabic responses, but he still took a step backwards and called out “What?” when a bright orange bird dropped out of the sky and landed on Celestia’s back. At first glance, it appeared to be on fire, but a second more stringent look revealed the shimmering colors in its feathers to only be an illusion, fed by the bright sunlight shining down across its wings.
Zeus almost wished it was on fire. After all, he was the god with the thunderbolts, and early-morning birds on Olympus had eventually learned not to frequent his vicinity in the mornings after Zeus had gone out for a night of heavy drinking. This bird seemed to relish in the orange and yellow flickering among its feathers, and cast a wary eye at the Allfather as if it knew what had happened to many of its early-rising noisy brethren.
“Philomena!” cooed Celestia as she rolled to her hooves and extended a foreleg. The bird flashed back up into the air to avoid being squished during her roll, made a few rapid circles with sparks of light flying from its wings, then plummeted down to land on the offered snow-white leg. “Philomena, I would like to introduce you to Great Zeus and Hera Allmother. Behave. Great Zeus, this is my pet, Philomena.”
“Pet?” Shaking himself out of the shock, Zeus quickly pounced to regain his proper place in the conversation. After all, he was Great Zeus, and the winged unicorn was the newest goddess on the mountain. It was time to put his sandal firmly down. “I’m sorry, but mortals are forbidden on Olympus. No pets,” he added.
“Are you certain, Great Zeus?” There was a mischievous sparkle in Celestia’s eyes as she winked at the brilliantly-colored bird, who lifted up into the air and gently flapped down to land on Hera’s extended arm. “She’s just a little bird.”
Hera was smiling as she ran her fingers through Philomena’s bright feathers, and the blasted bird leaned into the caress with a chirping purr of adoration. “I’ve always liked birds,” said Hera as she stroked down the bird’s back and watched her brilliant wings unfold almost like flames. “And we do have those peacocks.”
“The annoying birds you made from Argos,” stated Zeus quite firmly. “An immortal.”
“Until he was slain while guarding the cow,” said Hera, looking off into the distance while a cold chill crept up Zeus’ back.
As much as he had loved her smooth calves, the beautiful maiden Io had been transformed back to her human form after Hermes had killed Argos, but she had run away to some foreign land afterwards rather than dally with Zeus again. The only way Hera let a grudge die is if she killed it, and this was one grudge he would rather not see return, no matter how soft and delightful the young lady was. Perhaps a minor compromise which would not result in her divine vengeance was in order.
Zeus cleared his throat and eyed the bird. “As I recall, Castor and Polydeuces were given temporary residence, but they were people, not pets.”
“Don’t forget Ganymede,” said Hera, still apparently entranced by the way the bird shimmered in the sunlight like flames. “I know I haven’t. I wonder where he went when he ascended?”
There was a rustling in the grass and the dark form of Luna uncoiled slightly. She looked up at the rest of her divine peers and blinked several times before yawning. “D’nt worry, Great Hera. I gave him a beautiful piece of the sky with some very distinguished neighbors, and I visit him every time I get the opportunity. He’s a delightful child, and speaks highly of you.” She yawned again and blinked while turning to her sister. “Celly, s’much as I love you, can you move your discussion a little further away so I can sleep? I have to get up in a few hours.”
“Of course, Luna.” Celestia lowered her voice as they moved to the other side of the unmarked field. “She’s such a dear, putting all of the stars up every night as well as the moon. She works so hard at her job when all I have to do is move the sun. Certainly you can make an exception to the rules for her pet, even if my beloved Philomena has to go.”
“No pets,” stated Zeus firmly. There could only be one supreme god on the mountain, and it was going to be him, no matter how the devious little horses tried to bend him around their hooves. “Mortal humans in exceptional circumstances, but no pets.”
“As I recall, your daughter Athena has an owl,” said Hera.
“Glaukopis is a symbol of her divinity,” stated Zeus, holding onto what felt like a crumbling line in the sand even as his skull gave a pained throb right about where his daughter had sprung forth, fully armed and armored, as well as a little upset about being born. He was not about to bring up Nethapletis at this point, because the only ‘exceptional circumstances’ of the Nubian mortal was his ability to have a bottle of ambrosia available whenever Zeus walked through the door of his bar, and there was certainly no way a bird could ever be considered a bartender.
“Very well, Great Zeus. I shall obey your wishes.” Celestia nuzzled the annoying bird and chirped to it, after which Philomena flew away to the other side of the open field and landed in the grass. Afterwards, the goddess of the sun lifted her horn up to the sky and extended her bright white wings as the sun grew brighter.
And brighter.
A beam of pure fire lanced down from the sky, striking the orange bird so quickly that it seemed to vanish, as did several dozen cubits of earth and soil from its immediate vicinity. The beam of concentrated sunlight remained for several heartbeats, then went away as if it had never been, leaving only a smoldering crater large enough to hold a chariot.
The tall winged unicorn strode over to the shallow indention in the ground and regarded the ashes scattered around little bits of molten rock while Hera and Zeus followed. The three of them stood in silence for a few moments before Hera clouted Zeus over the head with an open hand.
“Foolish man. What would it have harmed you to allow her this one thing?” Hera gestured at where the wind was swirling the ashes of the incinerated bird around in a circle. “She is new to our mountain, husband. Certainly she should be permitted a friend from her previous life.”
“Do not chastise Great Zeus,” cautioned Celestia with a twinkle in her eye. “He is the wise Allfather, and ruler of Olympus. Behold.” The swirling ashes blurred together with a brilliant flash of light, and when their eyes had adjusted, the same orange bird was hovering in place, only with real flames cascading off its burning wings.
“A Phoinīx,” said Hera in amazement as Philomena swooped down to land on her outstretched arm and nibbled at her ear. “You have chosen your symbol well, Celestia.”
The sun goddess bowed her head. “I am but a servant of Great Zeus. I only hope my sister chooses to endow her symbol with less drama.” Celestia looked pointedly at the other winged unicorn, who was stretched out and snoring in the grass with some sort of small dark creature attempting to make itself comfortable in her flowing star-strewn mane. Whatever it was seemed irritated by the light, and only glared out of its dark concealment at the attention it was suddenly getting. “As sisters, our powers and our domain are equal.”
“I see.” Hera looked around the empty lot covered in flattened grass with one smoldering crater to the side. “I believe your domain could use a few amenities. Don’t you think so, husband?”
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” grumbled Zeus. “I already passed the drachma to the earth sprites. If they haven’t started construction, there’s really no forcing them unless you want to wind up under a roof that leaks even when it isn’t raining.”
“I see,” said Celestia with a look of deep thought. “Would it be permissible to bring in a few mortal construction specialists? Just to build a few structures and do some minor work on our domain, of course. After all, our needs are fairly limited, and once they are done with their tasks, they can return to their homes.”
After due consideration, Zeus nodded. After all, he preferred to pursue young and nubile goddesses out of sight of Hera Allmother, and while rolling in the grass was great bovine fun, bedrooms were far better and less likely to attract her attention.
“You may bring in a few mortals to make an edifice suitable to your station, but after they are done with their tasks, they must return to their homes. So commands Zeus Allfather.”
“Thank you, Great Zeus,” said Celestia with a bow. “You won’t even notice them.”
“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?”
* Ω *
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.”
* Ω *
“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.
* Ω *
“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?”
* Ω *
“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?”
* Ω *
“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…”
* Ω *
“…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.”
* Ω *
“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.
* Ω *
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.
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.
* Ω *
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.”
The path to the Underworld was wreathed in darkness and shadows, where even the air hung heavy with the dank rot of slimy black fungus and the damp pebbles beneath his sandals shifted with every step. The gloom of the path swept most of the romance out of the trip, and Luna’s enthusiastic embrace of the surroundings finished the job.
“Look, Great Zeus. A peeping crocus. They’re very rare this time of year.” She nipped the flower off of the plant and chewed with an expression of divine joy, although all Zeus could see was the trickle of reddish saliva that leaked out around the edge of her happy smile. “They’re won’erful. You’ve got to try one.”
He grimaced as Luna’s dark magic encircled a flower and floated it up in the direction of his face. The crimson blossom inside the dark blue bud looked like some sort of reddish eye staring back at him with the same baleful stare that Argus had always bestowed upon him, and which the screeching peacocks around Olympus did in his absence. He took a bite, of course, and chewed while expecting to have to spit the foul thing out, but it had a delicate flavor to it that surprised him.
“Saffron?” he asked, savoring the elusive flavor before swallowing.
“Oh!” exclaimed Luna, bounding forward along the path in a spray of fungal spores kicked up from the moss hanging down from all of the surrounding trees. “The white-rot mushrooms are sporing. Look at the way they’re climbing that tree.”
“Aren’t those poisonous?” asked Zeus, hurrying to catch up and sincerely thinking about turning into a bull just to keep his balance on the slippery, fungus-streaked pebbles of the path.
“Of course! But they show where the non-poisonous honey mushrooms grow. See?” Luna pushed back some slimy undergrowth to reveal a huge clump of golden-brown mushrooms, which the lunar goddess promptly plucked and stuffed into a bag on her back. “Sliced and fried in butter, they’re just heavenly. Of course Celly always burns them and I never can get them to cook all the way through.” She stopped and sighed. “I wish Pierre could cook for us. You’d love the way he can toast a spinach souffle, Great Zeus.”
“No more mortal ponies,” growled Zeus. At least in the Underworld, he didn’t have to worry about hearing that blasted lyre ploinking away at all hours of the day and night. Hades had been very good about keeping any mortals who visited his realm locked away for good. Even his brother’s immortal wife had not escaped totally unscathed, being stuck in the dismal place for a quarter of every year while the world above was covered in snow.
And ice, and sleet, and slush. Maybe Persephone had the right idea after all.
Still, although the trip here had been its usual dismal trudge, the scenery had been given new life by the equine goddess, particularly when she would bend down to nibble on some rare delicacy or lean across some obstacle to reach for something. The stars above might never shine in the Underworld, but there certainly was a very attractive moon to be seen.
Of course his good mood evaporated the moment Luna fairly danced over to greet Charon with a kiss to each boney cheek and a warm embrace. The ferryman was standing as he always did in his punt, which somehow managed to bob in a dismal manner on the surface of the river Styx while the two of them chattered, or at least Luna was talking while Charon simply nodded. After tucking the bag full of forest munchies to one side of the docks for the return trip, Luna stepped carefully onto the little boat, followed by Zeus.
Or at least he tried. A bony hand extended before him, empty of the coin needed for the fee. Grumbling, Zeus extended his own hand above the ferryman’s bony appendage and manifested his will, although the coins that he brought forth from his vault spilled through the open fingers of the ferryman and splashed into the river Styx like common pebbles, which upon a little thought, was quite nearly what they were.
“Oh!” said Luna. “Pardon me, Great Zeus. I’ve got this. I always carry a little spare change with me to pay the bill for anypony I’m escorting this far, just in case they did not save for their afterlife.” She floated a hefty silver purse out of her mane and opened it up with a snap, floating four golden coins out of the coin-stuffed depths of the bag. “There you go, Cherry. I’m sorry, Great Zeus, but I’ve never been this far before. Normally, I just bide the escorts goodbye at the docks and see them on their way to Elysium Fields. I’ve never actually been inside the Underworld before, but I know the rules: don’t eat or drink anything, don’t gamble with your brother, and don’t bring anypony or anybeing back out with me.”
“You brought mortal ponies here?” grumbled Zeus as Charon set the boat out onto the river with long, strong strokes of his pole. (Not that kind of a pole, you dirty-minded mortal.)
“As they pass beyond the Great Sleep, it is my duty to guide them to Elysium Fields, where they may be reunited with their loved ones and spend all of eternity in joy and levity.” She nodded as the boat skimmed past a sun-drenched and cheerful portal out into an open area. “I’ve always thought that particular section of the Underworld as somewhat one-sided, but perhaps I can raise the topic of bringing a few beautiful star-strewn nights up to your brother after we’ve settled your fiscal issues.” She eyed the gloomy shore of the river Styx as the ferryman poled their craft further into the Underworld. “It seems a peculiar place to locate a bank. How doth the loans get made, or the exchange of fiscal instruments carried out?”
“Loans?” scoffed Zeus. “What is mine is mine, and none else shall have claim upon it. We shall find my missing treasury and you shall marvel at its depth and volume.”
And the sooner we get out of my brother’s creepy realm, the better.
* Ω *
By the time Charon docked their vessel in front of the towering dark castle that Hades called home, Zeus had resumed a small portion of his good mood. True, Hades was a tall gloomy god who could suck the life out of a room with a single morose sigh, but he was family, that is friendly family, as opposed to the various titans, monsters, and demigods who claimed a familial relationship merely in order to sharpen their blades. His slim brother met him at the gates, his usual frown giving way to a delighted smile when he spotted Luna at Zeus’ side. It was a bit of a start for Zeus, as he had seldom seen his brother in such a good mood, but even more when he swept into a bow and kissed Luna’s upraised forehoof.
“Brother of mine,” started Hades in his booming tenor, “you should have told me you were bringing such a beautiful visitor into my lands. You must be Luna. I’ve heard so much about you, but now I find the tales of your beauty to have been severely understated.” He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair and made as if to dust an invisible speck off his grey tunic before gesturing the two of them inside. “Come in, come in. I was just entertaining a few companions, but I can put them aside for Olympus’ newest goddess and my dear brother.”
“We don’t mean to impose—” managed Luna before being interrupted.
“Nonsense,” scoffed Hades, still seeming unusually chipper for Zeus’ tastes. “When I got Celestia’s letter, I knew how important this was to you. After all, if you can’t trust family, who can you trust?”
After due consideration of his father Cronus, Zeus had to ask while they walked, “Father is still imprisoned in the Caves of Nyx, correct?”
“Yes, yes, in the abysmal depths with the rest of the Titans,” muttered Hades, his unusual good mood seeming to flit away for a moment. “I have no desire to be devoured again, dear brother. The chains binding him are twice as strong as those which secure your vault, which is why I was so concerned. Pardon me.”
Zeus turned the corner to see a small group of past souls gathered around two individuals playing lyres. The first was Orpheus, of course, looking much as he had when Zeus had last seen him, only a little less crispy around the edges from the thunderbolt.
The second was a pony. A particular pony, with the same grass-green coat and short horn who he had last seen in his garden, playing a mournful dirge for her missing lover. Err, friend. She did not even look up to acknowledge his arrival, but continued to gently stroke the strings of her infernal instrument as Zeus recovered.
The weight of sky seemed to lift off Zeus’ back, much as the time he had forced Atlas to shoulder it in his place. He tried not to smile at the thought of the pesky unicorn finally passing away and winding up in Hades’ domain, but a few tiny bits of his pleasure must have leaked out around the edges.
“Ah, I see you know of my musicians,” said Hades with a gesture at the two. “I must thank you, dear brother, for permitting your servant to visit my residence. She has a gift with giving life to the forlorn and forsaken.”
“Yes, yes,” said Zeus. He waved at the two musicians before pushing his companions past the doorway. “Hera will be upset that her pony passed away, but I suppose we will just have to live with it. Now, if we can go to my vault.”
“Of course. Right this way.” Hades gestured broadly down the corridor toward a dark and forbidding door while calling back over his shoulder to the musicians. “If you will pardon us for a moment, my brother and I have some business to take care of before returning for our entertainment.”
“Business should come before pleasure,” agreed Luna, trotting down the hallway in front of Zeus and his brother with what seemed to be an accidental tail-flick at Hades’ side as she began to move, although that did not explain the rhythmic sway to her hips and the coy glance she gave over her shoulder as the brothers delayed to speak privately between them for a moment.
“By Hera, brother of mine,” whispered Hades. “Where did you find such beauty? First your musician, and then your… companion.”
“They just trotted in one day like they owned the place,” muttered Zeus quietly as they walked. “Well, Luna did. The musician came with my wife’s garden. I thought she’d never play herself to death.”
“Death?” Hades looked down his long, thin nose at his heftier but shorter brother. “Nay, she is here under the Lovelorn Wayfarer clause which established the Underworld. She has not passed through my gates bereft of her mortal body, because she plays in mourning for—”
“Her ‘friend.’” Zeus ground his teeth. “Are you sure you can’t push her off a cliff or something, brother? I would owe you one.”
Hades shook his head with his long, dark locks swaying around his neck. “Nay. It is not wise to interfere with powers greater than ourselves. As powerful as we are, we must respect those distraught with grief over the loss of one they love, as well as the immortal aspects of death, taxation, and mail delivery.”
“Probably explains why nobody has killed Hermes for failing to deliver a letter,” grumbled Zeus. He thought for a moment as they walked. “You said that Celestia sent word to you of our visit. How can my idiot son fail to deliver anything which I have entrusted unto him for the last untold number of seasons, but a horse can send word before we can even complete our journey?”
As if in response to his spoken question, the sound of wings came fluttering down the hallway after them, followed shortly by a… short horse of sorts. A pegasus to be precise, of the same smaller size as the rest of the ponies who had been plaguing Olympus as of late. It was wearing some sort of uniform including a hefty saddlebag filled to the top with letters sticking out in all directions, and it drew up into a sloppy salute in mid-air in front of Hades with a goofy grin.
“I checked all around the Underworld for any of the letters that Hermes dropped, as you requested, sir. I think we have them all now. Oh! Great Zeus!” The hovering pony began digging around in her saddleback with her nose while turning in slow, lazy circles. “I’ve got something for you here.”
Zeus turned on his brother. “You let more ponies down here?”
He shrugged. “Everybody comes here eventually. Besides,” he added with just the slightest bit of snark, “she delivers letters within a few centuries of their being mailed.”
With a huff and a subdued growl, Zeus leafed through the collection of letters the awkward postal pony passed over one-at-a-time as she found them in her overstuffed saddlebags. It was not nearly as bad as Hades had inferred. Only one of the letters was more than a century out of date, and most of the rest were just overdue bills. He burned them to ashes and dusted his hands off before watching the little pegasus fly down the corridor and away.
* Ω *
Each god and goddess in Olympus had their own vaults in the depths of the Underworld where donations from worshipers were mystically directed, but Zeus had the grandest and sturdiest of them all. He made a point of first stopping by the new vaults where Celestia and Luna had their shiny little doors of polished bronze, each with a nameplate etched into the soft metal. There were only a few drachma in each of them, which Zeus viewed with a growing sense of superiority, even after having checked to ensure the coins were made of gold instead of clay.
“You cannot expect to have accumulated much, Luna,” he purred. “After all, you’ve only been divine for a few weeks, and expenses for your mortal temples are deducted before the drachma appear.”
“It still seems to be somewhat underwhelming,” said Luna with the most adorable pout tugging down the corners of her lips. “Is there any method by which I could get my funds deposited with my regular banker instead?”
Zeus’ smile slowly lost some of its warmth. “A mortal?”
She nodded and produced an abacus, along with a large and well-kept ledger. Inside, there were a great number of sums in neat columns, all aligned and organized by category and time. “Aye, but not a single mortal. Instead, I have retained a reliable banking institution which has instituted a stable and diversified investment platform for several centuries. Yearly audits of my accounts keeps them upon the tips of their hooves, and a net rate of return which has averaged greater than eight percentum annually for the vast majority of my investment. Here, the money would just…” She looked forlornly at the small pile of golden coins which they had tested to ensure the gold was more than just a thin film on top of clay and managed a wry smile when the faint tinkle of an additional coin dropping to the tiny vault floor sounded.
The smile was Zeus’ weakness. Hera had a smile almost exactly like that, used whenever her husband had done something particularly clever or witty. “There are some gods and goddesses with such an arrangement,” he admitted.
“Dionysus, for one,” said Hades. “His vault has never needed more space than for a handful of drachma or two before an inevitable bender wipes him out. If my brother agrees, I shall set up the arrangement as you desire, beautiful Luna.”
That wry smile grew into a much warmer expression, and Zeus was shocked to see his calm and impassive brother seem to melt under the warmth of that gaze. He cleared his throat and jerked his head in the direction of the huge bronze vault embossed with a thunderbolt. “Dearest brother, could we please attend to the primary issue. Where’s my money?”
It took nearly an hour of divine effort by Hades to get the vault open, which normally would have given Zeus some alone time with the lunar goddess in some dark shadow, of which there were plenty to choose from. Instead, Luna stood very close to Zeus’ brother, looking over his shoulder or around his side at times as he worked with the security enchantments on the vault while Zeus stood back and fumed.
It turned out to be the emotional high point of the evening for him.
Once the giant vault door was unlocked and swung open, the contents became obvious. If it had merely been empty as Zeus expected, his thunder would have rolled and wrath would have shaken the earth to its foundations. Instead, the floor of the vault was nearly filled with immaterial wraiths in the expensive togas of the moneychangers, all weeping and wailing as they circled a vast mountain of parchment. Off to one side, several of the ghostly moneychangers were casting clay into coin shapes, baking them in an oven that seemed to be fueled by the same parchment that was piled up in heaps, and then one ghostly form with a brush was applying a thin gloss of golden paint to the clay coins once they had dried.
The back of the vault was open, and a veritable storm of ghostly spirits flew in and out with stacks of parchment in their grasp and the wails of the tortured filling the air. The spirits did not even pay the slightest attention to the three gods as they walked down into the vault and began to hesitantly poke about.
“There are errors in these sums,” said Luna, examining several sheets of parchment which bore a large quantity of red ink arranged in rows. “These numbers cannot be correct.”
Zeus reached out one burly arm and grabbed the nearest spirit by the neck, which turned out to be less of a good idea than he thought as the immaterial ghost merely drifted along at the same speed as before, only seemingly louder.
“Allow me, brother.” Hades reached out one long, thin arm and grasped the same spirit, only this time the damned soul stopped his infernal wailing and looked as if he were about to expire from fright a second time. The ruler of the Underworld swept his other hand across the interior of the vault and said two words. “Explain. Now.”
* Ω *
It turned out that the contents of Zeus’ vault could be best described by an intense absence of drachma, such that it could have been not-filled several times over and still remained a great void in the cosmic balance sheet. Phrases such as ‘collateralized debt obligation’ and ‘credit default swaps’ dominated the ghostly soul’s description of the state of the vault, as well as ‘derivatives’ and something called a ‘default.’ To be honest, Zeus had always depended on Apollo to deal with the tricky numbers involved in engineering and money. It was delegation, or so he had insisted after several times when he had been forced to deal with the acrophonic numbers involved in the fifty or so greek island states and the herculean difficulty involved in multiplication of even simple numbers such as σμζ͵ times ιβ͵.
Hades had thrown the miserable wretches into a lake of boiling pitch afterwards, but there was still the wretched refuse of their money management to deal with. Drachma from his temples could not even approach the vault without being whisked away to some nether realm where hordes of demonic creatures still held the other end of the infernal documents encumbering his treasury. In all probability, he would be stuck down here for ages while trying to make sense of—
“Found it,” declared Luna, still holding the abacus floating in front of her and flipping beads so fast they were a blur. “The problem is ultimately quite simple, Great Zeus. Your income is less than your expenditures, and has been so for quite some time.”
“Then I shall raise my income,” said Zeus. “Send word to all of my temples that the offerings are insufficient, and should be raised to—”
“Nay, Great Zeus.” Luna floated several sheets of parchment in front of him and began to point to large red numbers. “As you can see, the economy of the mortal world hath taken a great blow from the failure of your treasury. To raise the taxes upon your peasants… I mean your worshipers at this time shall cause a second collapse greater than the first.”
After a brief pause, Zeus asked, “So?”
“Allow me to explain things to my brother,” said Hades, picking up one of the gilded coins from Zeus’ vault. “Currently, the only money you have is dirt covered in a film of gold. If you crash your worshipers’ economy again, you won’t even have dirt.”
“So that leaves…” prompted Zeus, hoping to hear a third alternative.
“Cuts,” said Luna, still looking through the leaves of parchment. “If done carefully and adhered to, a narrow path possibly exists between economic failure and more economic failure. It shall be tricky, but with the correct financial advisors and a bridge loan to take the pressure off your creditors, it might be possible.”
“A ‘bridge’ loan.” Zeus set his features into the most stoic expression he could muster. “And just who did you have in mind for me to borrow a bridge from?”
* Ω *
“Great Zeus! What a pleasant surprise!” Celestia looked up from her tea and waved the chubby earth pony servant to bring an additional chair. “Did you get that little issue with your treasury all cleared up, then?”
“No.” He settled his divine bulk down on the hefty chair and glowered at the steaming cup of tea which the mortal servant made appear in front of him as if by some sort of magic. “My brother and your sister are presently attempting to ascertain just exactly how much money I shall need to ‘borrow’ in order that I do not lose my domain to a pack of rapacious demons.”
“I’ve never quite heard bankers being referred to in that fashion before,” said Celestia while stirring her tea.
“Not bankers,” said Zeus with a growl.
“Oh.” Celestia finished stirring her tea and took a sip, which Zeus followed. The expected burst of divine flavors against his tongue had an unexpected bite to it, somewhat resembling the finest golden ambrosia which could be hidden from Dionysus and his eternal search, and which a covert glance at Celestia’s mortal servant explained as she tucked a small golden flask back into the tea cart with a small smile. It raised his moral spirits as well as the amount of physical spirits he feared it would take to get over his monetary issues, but a second sip helped, as did a third.
“I have sent for Apollo to see what he can make out of the unholy mess,” said Zeus. “Provided Hermes can find him sometime in the next century or so.” He took another drink out of his teacup and passed it over to the mortal servant for refilling.
Celestia had a pensive look about her as she brought out a letter and looked down it. “Ah, Great Zeus. I don’t know if your son will be able to deal with your complicated fiscal issues at this time. He’s in the middle of his residency at the hospital, but if you like, I can pass word to my financial advisors and have them—”
“Mortals again?” Zeus took the offered teacup and drained it in one gulp. The servant had left out the tea this time, and the resulting pure golden ambrosia-like substance burned like welcome fire down his throat.
“Ah… Yes.” Celestia tucked away the letter and looked profoundly uncomfortable. “You could always… no, I don’t think that would be a good—”
“What?” growled Zeus.
“A second job, like ours,” said Celestia reluctantly. “Being a demigoddess was not paying very well for us when a position came open fairly nearby. Well, we decided if we could split the responsibility and the pay, we could handle both jobs.” She fidgeted, unable to meet Zeus’ gaze and looking everywhere in the unfinished tea room instead. “I’m sorry, Great Zeus, but they just needed somepony to raise the sun and moon, and we both had extra time in our schedule. We had no idea they would make us Princesses or have us rule their entire country. The extra money was nice, of course, but you can only buy so many tiaras or cakes before you have to do something with the leftover bits, so we started a little fund with a few of the more reputable investment bankers and left our savings grow.”
“Grow?” Zeus waved the mortal servant’s most recent cup of tea away. “How can the gold in your vault grow?”
For the longest time, Celestia spoke of the magic of ‘compound interest’ and ‘diversification’ while Zeus sat and listened. It appeared to be a fairly simple thing on the surface. After all, moneylending had been a business since the Phoenicians had invented money, but extending the concept up to the level of a government who had to restrain itself from simply grabbing all of that money at the tips of their fingers was fairly new to him. After all, Zeus had not met a mortal yet with that kind of restraint, but according to Celestia, if they could be gathered into larger groups where each one of them could watch the others, and a rather smart alicorn with a stout club could watch them all, the idea could be implemented without too much loss from greed.
“That rules out using my dragon to keep ‘bankers’ under control,” mused Zeus. “He does naught but sleep and lets the golden apples he is supposed to be guarding vanish into the night.”
“If you would like, Great Zeus—” Celestia stopped at Zeus’ thunderous expression, but after due consideration, he settled back into his chair and picked up his cup of tea again.
“I shall grant you leave to bring a number of mortals to Olympus in order to straighten up my finances, but only the sons of Pegasus, and in return you may bring several of the same to my mountain in order to provide guidance inside your temple and assist in guarding my golden apple tree.”
“Thank you, Great Zeus.” Celestia bowed her head, but she had a look of regret in her violet eyes when she looked back at him. “There is but one problem. The wisest and most clever of those who deal with the treasury and the complicated calculations which come with it, are not the sons of Pegasus.”
“Well, what type of fel creatures are they?” snorted Zeus.
* Ω *
If Zeus had not seen the pony for brief glimpses before he had sat down, he might not have believed there was actually anybody behind the desk, just a floating mass of parchment glowing a light grey as the various sections of calculations and ledgers shifted and the rapid rattle of an abacus sounded in counterpoint.
“Beg pardon, Great Zeus, but one of the junior partners in the firm just brought a new document to my attention, and I wanted to ensure it did not cause any problems with the solution we have worked out for your fiscal… ah… difficulties.” Several more abacus beads clattered to what sounded like a victorious end and the papers began to settle down around the shaggy pony at the desk. He was at least more like the horses Zeus was accustomed to seeing, with a long black mane and flowing fetlocks in somewhat of a muddy grey, but with sharp hazel eyes beneath the hair and a short fluted horn which glowed a pale shade of grey, close to the same color as the black dotted line on his flanks.
“Thank you for your patience, Great Zeus.” The pony managed a deep bow from behind his desk, although with a clump of his black mane falling down over his eyes again. After parting it with his magic so he could see again, the legal scribe floated several sheets of parchment over to land gracefully on the desk in front of Zeus’ skeptical gaze. “I took the liberty of providing a summary sheet in both arabic and greek numbers, for whichever you feel more comfortable with. As you can see, the underworld spirits who were entrusted with your fortune failed to set up either a fallback investment strategy or a reliable method of informing you about fiscal difficulties.” A thick sheaf of parchment glowed grey and floated forward to land to one side of the documents. “These are annual and quarterly notifications sent from the Underworld by way of Hermes, which we found in the cushions of his couch. There were several in the lavatory, and some being used to keep a table straight, but we disposed of them, as these should be sufficient to show negligence in the event you wish to press charges against him.”
“He’s my son,” said Zeus in as level a tone as he could muster while looking at the columns of red numbers on the report. “He’s probably also broke, as he gets paid by the delivery.”
“Pity.” The shaggy unicorn returned to his papers. “The rest of the paperwork was a shambles. No audit trail, misnamed accounts, multiple failures of good business ethics. As agents of yours, the individuals previously responsible for your accounts should be thrown into a lake of boiling pitch.”
“That part, at least, is done,” admitted Zeus.
“Good.” Three different sheets of thick parchment slid over to his side of the table. “As is the custom in cases such as these, our firm has prepared three options, arranged from the least desirable to the most. First, we have the option of secondary employment.”
“Pass,” declared Zeus with a fierce frown, leaving thunder to rumble in the background and all the paper on the desk crackling with subdued electricity.
“I understand your reluctance, Great Zeus, but there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” said the unicorn, apparently nonplussed by the divine show of restraint quite possibly due to his built-in lightning rod. “Many divinities have branched off into profitable mundane endeavors as of late. I understand Aphrodite has a thriving business in matchmaking, and Nike has expanded her business providing sandals into multiple niche markets.” The unicorn lifted a forehoof up onto the table and displayed a silver horseshoe with the goddess’ characteristic swoosh across the bottom.
“Pass,” repeated Zeus as the thunder crashed outside and the unicorn jumped.
“Very well.” He pushed a second sheet of parchment closer to Zeus. “Second, we have what several of the more witty members of the firm have been calling the ‘Relative Option.’ In addition to several revenue-boosting items such as tourism and merchandising, this plan cuts off all remunerations to your children, grandchildren, and various divine emanations of non-traditional fashion. No more allowances,” he specified. “They are all big gods and goddesses now, and should be able to survive on their own worshipers. Once your account has been freed from this regular expense, we should be able to consolidate the rest of the debts into one large pool and free the various debt instruments from the demonic entities who purchased them, using one of our standard agents to negotiate the best price.”
Shaken, Zeus looked down the list of his multiple progeny. It went on for several pages, and included names which seemed only vaguely familiar, including some in foreign languages. “Are you certain about these names?”
“Sir.” The woolly unicorn seemed to bristle, and even his short mustache (which Zeus had missed earlier due to the amount of other hair) stuck out straight. “Our firm does not pass along incorrect information. Every name on that list has been exhaustively researched, and their identity verified.” Taking a deep breath to calm himself, the unicorn continued, “As some of the mortal offspring are still quite young, you should consider setting up a confidential trust fund in order to provide for their raising and education, one which only you would have access to, of course.”
After a brief thought about what Hera would say about his dalliances with the mortal race, all carefully documented and laid out in exhaustive detail, Zeus swallowed and asked, “And what is this third option?”
The unicorn brightened and slid the third piece of parchment over for his consideration. “The most rational solution, of course, is a reduction in your entertainment expenses. The elimination of the satyr, nymphs and dryads from various frolicking and dallying areas, along with stopping the unlimited allowances for nectar, ambrosia and wine, should cut your expenses down to something reasonable. Then, of course, we have the rest of the drunken debauchery to deal with—”
The unicorn cut off abruptly as Zeus slowly tore the parchment in half, then quarters, then smaller and smaller pieces until only dust remained. The mustache on the banker’s upper lip quivered in suppressed indignation, but after a few breaths and a good look at the thunderous expression on Zeus’ face, as well as the deep roll and rumble of thunder in the distance, he cleared his throat.
“Let us look at the ‘Relative Option’ again, shall we?”
There Goes The Neighborhood Entertainment Expenses
Despite being the home to a myriad of gods and goddesses, there were still places on Olympus which had no more companionship than the green grass and the gentle breeze, which was just what Zeus wanted today. Still, he walked through the grass with somewhat more than his usual brisk stride, listening carefully for the slightest hint of lyre music drifting through the air and watching for a very particular shade of green. From this altitude, the little towns and villages below looked much as if they were inhabited by ants, and in his present mood, Zeus felt like stomping a few of them.
The main problem was his head was splitting, although fortunately only in a figurative sense because the last thing he wanted right now was another militant pony-loving son or daughter bursting through his skull. The second problem was that he had forgotten to drop by the house and pick up a bundle of thunderbolts to rain down on the mortals below. That is, if Hephaestus had remembered to restock his supply after his last dramatic thunderstorm.
A small but similarly frustrated voice intruded into Zeus’ musing as he strode along the edge of the mountain, and he moderated his brisk tread to a more stealthy approach until he spotted the source of the annoyance, which, of course, was another un-blasted mortal pony.
Maybe I can squeeze some thunderbolts out of a nearby cloud…
The little blue pegasus was hopping up and down on a small cloud, giving off a constant stream of what could be considered curse words in the same fashion that bunny rabbits could be considered fierce monsters. He would bounce up and down, cursing and complaining as his tiny hooves dug little divots in the fluffy cloudstuff and tiny pops of lightning crackled inside, but his bounces slowed to a stop and eventually the little pegasus flung himself over the edge of the cloud and just sprawled out with his legs hanging down and his wings drooping. It took a moment for Zeus to recognize the little winged horse as a young little winged horse, who seemed to be missing the rump-stamp the rest of his somewhat larger brethren sported.
Picking up his pace to a brisk stride, Zeus had nearly reached the little pony when it looked up at him and underwent the most amazing transformation. His eyes lit up, his ears stood straight, and with the biggest grin Zeus had ever seen, he loudly declared, “Zeus! It’s you! You’re here! You’re here! This is fantastically wonderfully terrific!”
The little Pegasus shot off the cloud faster than Zeus could see, and whirled around him while emitting a constant stream of adoration-fueled babble. It was a little like being inside a happy rainbow tornado as the colorful tail and mane of the little pony left streaks of color afterimages between every blink.
“Whoa, little one! Whoa!”
Screeching to a hovering stop in front of Zeus’ outstretched hand, the little pony gazed up at him with the most sincere case of hero-worship Zeus had ever seen, and managed to slow his frantic babble to something which could barely be understood.
“You’re the greatest of all of the great gods and my great, great, great, great grandfather Pegasus told us all about you and how he got to carry your thunderbolts and when I grow up I want to be just like him and carry your thunderbolts all over the world so everypony can know what a great god you are and how fantastic you are and—”
“Whoa!” Zeus found it quite difficult to keep his fierce scowl in the face of the enthusiastic little pony’s cheerful chatter. Instead, he reached out one hand to drag the tattered little cloud over in front of him and examined it with a practiced eye. “Now what was such a little tuft of feathers like you trying to do with this old cloud?”
“I was going to make a thunderbolt!” declared the little pegasus colt before the sparkle in his eyes dimmed and his ears drooped back down to the sides of his tiny head. “But I couldn’t even make it spark. How am I ever going to be a big pegasus and carry around your thunderbolts for you if I can’t even make one measly little spark?”
Blasted ponies. Why do they have eyes that big?
“You’re not going to make many thunderbolts with a worn-out cloud like this,” grumbled Zeus. He grasped the cloud at each end and twisted, releasing a small crackle of static and a weak stream of water that barely dampened the grass. “You need one of those bigger dark clouds, like that one way over there.”
“Yeah,” breathed the little pony. He fluttered a few cubits out into the open sky, paused, and fluttered back with greater speed to stand behind Zeus’ hairy legs. His tiny wings quivering, the little pegasus peeked out from behind his divine shield to look far, far down at the tiny little houses below the mountain. “They look so small,” he whispered. “How far up are we?”
“Far above the realms of mortals,” rumbled Zeus, feeling more like himself now. “Have courage, little one. If someday you wish to fly by my side and carry my thunderbolts, you must have wings of lightning.”
“Wings of lightning, wings of lightning,” whispered the little pegasus. He stepped out from behind Zeus and spread his little wings, keeping his eyes focused on the distant dark cloud while he stood immobile in the short grass at the edge of the mountain.
After several minutes, Zeus asked, “Well?”
The little pony’s wings drooped and his tail sagged. “I’m sorry, Great Zeus. I’m afraid. My father has always been with me whenever I fly more than a tail-length above the ground, but he’s guarding Princess Celestia’s temple today.”
“Oh.” Zeus looked down at the little dark cloud, all filled with divine wrath ready to be unleashed on the mortals below. Then he looked at the little winged pony. It had been so long since he had ruled the skies with Pegasus by his side, flinging thunderbolts into hordes of slavering ice-monsters or frost giants on his summer vacation from hot and humid Greece. He patted the little pony on a warm furry shoulder and began to manifest his power.
“Do not fear, mortal. I shall be at your side.”
* Ω *
In a less-traveled portion of Olympus, next to the edge where the farms and towns of mortals could be seen far below, there was a somewhat unusual sight. A dark cloud was parked just barely above the dark green grass of the mountain, with a tiny little pegasus colt bouncing up and down on it like a trampoline and being encouraged by a hefty pegasus stallion to his side.
“Put your back into it,” shouted Zeus with his broad wings extended for emphasis. “Keep your wings open for balance like this, point your toes and land as hard as you can. It’s almost ready to release a thunderbolt this time. And… now!”
The cloud gave out a weak crackle and a thunderbolt shot out, only to be caught by Zeus in clumsy hooves. He extended his wings wider as the bolt dragged him close to the edge of the mountain, fighting and flapping until he skidded to a stop with the smoldering bolt of lightning being tossed from hoof to hoof while he blew on it to cool it down. “Whew! That’s a lively one, even if it is a little small.”
With a little more manifestation of his power, Zeus returned to his human form, holding the glowing thunderbolt in the palm of his hand. It seemed like such a small thing, and would not make nearly the crash and boom he wanted if he were to throw it at the mortals below, so he closed his fist around it and manifested more of his power.
“Child, let it be known that Great Zeus approves of your efforts this day. Step forward and receive this token of our respect, which you may keep until you reach your majority and claim your place at my side.” A thin coating of bronze now covered the crackling thunderbolt, which he presented to the little awe-struck colt as if it were made of gold.
“Awesome!” The little colt shuffled forward and reached one hesitant hoof out to pick up his prize, but stopped before touching it and looked at his flank. “I got my cutie mark! I got my cutie mark!” He danced in a circle as if he were trying to get a good look at his own multicolored tail, which now was bordered by a colorful thunderbolt on both sides of his rump. “Igottagoshowmydadbye!”
In a streak of rainbow light, the little pegasus streaked into the distance, leaving the small bronzed thunderbolt still sitting in Zeus’ hands. He had just started on the beginnings of a little divine fury when the little colt streaked back just as fast as he had left, grabbed Zeus in a crushing hug around one shin, and vanished off into the distance again, carrying his bronze prize this time and babbling happily about his experience.
Zeus took a deep breath now that his thunderbolting range was clear of annoying little ponies. He stepped to the edge of the mountain and looked down upon the mortals far below, seeing them scurry about in their little lives for a while before turning and striding for home.
It really was not worth the effort anymore. Besides, he needed to drop by Hephaestus’ forge and pick up some fresh thunderbolts anyway, and as long as he was going that far out of his way, he might as well put them to good use.
* Ω *
"Hera!" bellowed Zeus in a voice that shook the mansion windows in their frames. "Where's my eyepatch?"
"In the top drawer where you left it last!" she bellowed back from the kitchen. "Are you headed off north again?"
"I just need to let off a little steam!" he bellowed back. "There's nothing around here worthwhile to smite, so I packed some thunderbolts and I'm going to go hammer the mountain trolls for a few hours. I'll be back late."
"Well, grab something to eat before you go!" she bellowed back. "Stew's almost done."
"Can't it wait? I've got to go harness up the goats to the chariot now or I won't be back before dark." Zeus poked his head into the kitchen where Hera was stirring a huge stewpot. "Oh, no."
"You didn't say you needed them today, and I wanted to surprise you with a home-cooked meal," said Hera, dipping her spoon into the pot and pulling out a bone which the goat meat had not been cooked off yet. "Besides, Tanngnjóstr has always had a limp ever since that you let that mortal cook him. You'd probably get stranded half-way to Hyperborea and have to walk back. Can't you just put the old things out to pasture and use some of Celestia's guards to pull the chariot?"
"No!" bellowed Zeus. "Absolutely not! Never!"
* ✹ *
"It's so nice to see you again, Great Zeus," said Celestia as she lifted a teacup in her magic and reclined on a thick cushion in the unfinished tea room of her growing temple. There were still a few holes in what would someday be walls and a noticeable amount of fresh paint, but the solar goddess seemed perfectly at home despite the sounds of construction still echoing through the corridors of her temple. "Is there something that we can do for you?"
"I need to borrow two of your guards for a trip to the northlands," growled Zeus.
“Very well,” said Celestia. “You shall have two of my finest and strongest pegasi. See to it, Proper Place.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The prim and proper unicorn by Celestia’s side bowed and slipped away while Zeus scowled at his departing tail.
“Another banker?” he growled. “The one which you foisted upon me hath driven my relatives into a fury. All day long, they whine about their funding being cut off. You would think something else had been trimmed from them while they slept.”
“Proper Place is my financial liaison with my banking associates.” Celestia produced a sheaf of papers and sat them to one side of her tea table with a quiet thud. “He keeps my finances under control during this transition to correcting your fiscal difficulties and has been a great asset in other matters. The sun had been running a little late recently, and one of the architects from Minos had designed the east wing of the temple without an exit.” She paused with the teacup nearly up to her lips. “If you wish, Great Zeus, I would be willing to see if any of his fellow unicorns would be willing to take up employment with your household.”
Zeus paused with his mouth open to express his opinion on the matter to the fullest volume he was able, then settled back down in his chair and pushed the empty teacup over to Celestia with a brief grumble instead. “Wouldst he be able to quell my fractious relatives and give me a moment of peace?”
“I’m certain he or she will be fully competent as an aide to your house.” Celestia filled his teacup and drifted it back over to his seat, along with a few dry biscuits. “I really must thank you, Great Zeus, for your acceptance of my little ponies in your home here on the mountain. I was speaking with little Greased Lightning today after his father told me you helped him get his cutie mark. In all of my years, I have never seen a little pegasus so proud. He said he’s going to change his name to Keravnos⁽*⁾ in honor of you.” (*) The name Zeus gave his armor. After all, as Great Zeus he could name whatever he wanted.
“Well…” Zeus waved a half-eaten biscuit for emphasis until he managed to swallow. “He was so intent on getting a thunderbolt out of that cloud.”
“And you bronzed it too.” Celestia took a sip of tea with her sparkling eyes seeming to have a hint of a smile to them as she drank. “I have found my little ponies are quite appealing. I too was reluctant when they first offered my sister and myself the crowns, but after a few centuries of their presence, I’ve grown quite accustomed to them.”
“Never!” snorted Zeus as he slammed back the rest of the tea and stood up to leave for his trip into the frozen north.
* Ω *
The sun was just touching the horizon when the cart pulled by two ‘goats’ gently touched down in Zeus’ garden. The thunderbolt bag was empty except for a few crackling motes of static and a few frosty remnants of blasted ice trolls still dripped from his beard, but there was an unstoppable smile on the Allfather’s face.
“By my name, that was wonderful.” Zeus stomped his feet and unmanifested the thick furry coat and boots in exchange for his traditional tunic and sandals. “Did you boys have fun too?”
“Yes, Great Zeus,” the two pegasi chorused as the illusion which had disguised them as goats faded away. One of the two pegasi seemed to hesitate and quickly blurted out an additional, “I can’t thank you enough for today, Great Zeus.”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “Think nothing of it. If you don’t thin down the ice trolls every few decades, they get aggressive and hold onto all of the cold, making it uncomfortably warm all over the world.”
“Not for that, sir. For my son.” There was a distinct similarity between the lines of the stallion’s muscular shoulders and the thin but distinct muscles of the little colt who had such problems getting a thunderbolt out of the cloud, as well as the distinguished set of their solid jaws. Zeus fought down an urge to peek inside the stallion’s mouth to check his teeth as he nodded and flung himself down onto the garden’s broad and comfortable bench.
“He’s a good colt. I’m looking forward to seeing him carry my thunderbolts in a few years.”
“Thank you, sir!” The pegasi struck a rigid salute before flying away at his dismissive hand gesture, leaving Zeus to relax on the bench with his large hairy feet in the slightly-damp grass. It was a beautiful sunset, with the distant trumpet fanfare of the salpinx making a delightful counterpart to the slow change of golden sunlight to the cool silver of night. It only irked him a little to see the silhouettes of the archons having both wings and tails, but he had to admit the tones of their chorus was more harmonious than anything the air sprites had been able to do on the rare occasions they were sober. It was such a pleasurable time that it took a few minutes for the quiet plunking of a mournful harp to penetrate his consciousness. In the bright light of the risen moon, Zeus slowly looked off to one side and locked eyes with the green unicorn musician.
“Good evening, Great Zeus,” she said. “Did you enjoy your trip?”
“Good morning, Great Zeus. Great Hera.” The young unicorn mare trotted calmly into the godly bedchambers and used her magic to spread the curtains and swing the windows wide open. “We have a busy day ahead of us. I tried to put together a breakfast for you two this morning, but I’m afraid the eggs got ahead of me and I’m not quite sure what happened with the porridge but I have it locked in the pantry and the cabinet pushed up against the door.”
There was a faint tremor in the foundations of the heavenly mansion and the crystals in the chandelier tinkled quietly against themselves while the bellows of a frustrated porridge echoed up the stairs.
“I’ve got it,” mumbled Hera as she rolled out of bed and stuck her feet into a set of worn slippers. She picked up a broom and shuffled downstairs, followed by the hesitant unicorn, who stopped in the doorway to give Zeus a rather forlorn look.
“I’m sorry, Great Zeus. I’m really good with numbers, schedules and cross-dependency diagrams, but all I can cook is raw vegetables and make a fairly good alfalfa smoothie.”
“That’s as much as I really expect.” Zeus yawned and considered the nearly snow-white unicorn and the dark brown mane done up in a bun and tied off with red ribbons. It would only take a moment to sweep her off her feet… Hooves, that is, and into bed, but Hera would not be long with a simple rogue porridge, and he felt vaguely guilty about taking advantage of a symbol of innocent virginity. Particularly one who was helping with the complicated task of keeping track of his vastly complicated financial recovery in addition to fending off his lazy relatives who kept dropping by his mansion to see if a few drachma had fallen into the couch covers.
“I have a cousin who is a marvel in the kitchen, sir,” volunteered the servant in a rush, wincing as the sound of goddess-porridge conflict drifted up the stairs. “She can bake the most amazing cherry tarts, but she’s an earth pony, and Princess Celestia said not to bring up anything about any more ponies around you because—”
There was a blood-curdling death cry from downstairs as the porridge met its match, making Zeus manifest a clean toga while getting out of bed. “No more ponies,” he growled. “No matter what. I’m drawing the line here.”
“The porridge is ruined,” called up Hera in a voice that rattled the windows. “Don’t worry. I’ll boil something up for breakfast.”
“No more ponies,” muttered Zeus through gritted teeth.
* Ω *
The towering tree threw a comforting shade over Zeus as he walked around the slumbering hundred-headed dragon, who was supposed to be fiercely guarding the two or three golden apples still remaining on the branches above. The day and night shift pegasi following him — two with feathered wings and golden armor and two with leathery wings and violet armor — kept a wary eye on the snoozing reptile, but Zeus gave out a snort of disgust and kicked the old beast several times in the ribs with little more reaction than a vague rumbling as it shifted positions slightly.
“If the blasted thing would keep any of its heads awake, I wouldn’t have asked Celestia for your help,” he grumbled. “Ever since the centaurs ran off with the nymphs, it has almost been picked clean. All I need you to do is to patrol around it and stop any heroic types or my blasted thieving relatives from pulling any more apples off the tree. Do you think you can take care of that simple task, or do I need to go find a dragon who won’t sleep all day?”
The pegasi drew up into rigid salutes. “Yes, Great Zeus,” they chorused.
“Good,” grumbled Zeus. He reached up into his precious tree and removed one of the last golden apples for closer inspection. “The tree holds my most precious possessions, but they’re bloody bad luck, with all the goddesses and vain mortals fighting over ‘em to prove who is the most beautiful. They’ve started enough wars to drench the whole mountain with blood, and they don’t even taste that good.” With a mighty twist of his wrist, Zeus split the apple into pieces and shared it with the four guards, who ate their sections seeds and all.
“It’s pretty good,” admitted one of the guards. “Have you considered crossing it with some other variety, or grafting some of the branches onto different rootstock? You could probably make a whole orchard out of this one tree, and have enough apples for anypony who wanted to buy a few dozen.”
After licking away a loose drip of apple juice, Zeus bounced the leftover seeds in the palm of his hand. “I don’t suppose any of the pegasi or unicorns could do what you said?”
“No, sir.” The golden-armored pegasus glanced back at the tree with a nervous twitch. “That’s earth pony magic.”
Behind them, a golden apple lost its grip on a branch and plunged out of the tree to thud into the ground and be regarded by the five beings who were awake to observe its fall. Then all of them looked back up into the tree and the single apple remaining.
“Should I go get my cousin?” asked one of the guards.
* Ω *
“Ah can’t believe you let this poor thing get so sick,” said the slouch-hat wearing earth pony who scurried around the bottom of the apple tree, touching it here and there along the trunk. “Ah’m sorry, Great Zeus, but this here tree’s gonna take a lot of loving and care to bring her back up to full producin’ and health. Thankfully, you got one of these.” She patted one of the heads of the drowsing dragon on the cheek and fed him an emerald when he opened his massive jaws fractionally in response.
“The dragon didn’t seem to help the tree out before,” grumbled Zeus.
“That’s a’cause he was sleepin’ here and doin’ his business over there.” The earth pony pointed a short distance away to a section of grass which was lush and green almost beyond description. “Everypony knows dragon poo is amazin’ fertilizer, but they don’t sleep where they poop.”
“I knew that,” admitted Zeus, even though he had not.
“All we need to do is get Ol’ Hundred here a nice cave to sleep in an’ collect the droppings, compost ‘em, an’ distribute ‘em out in the new orchard. Ah figgure about fifty or so rootstock plantings to graft branches onto for starters, a little earth pony care and attention, and you’ll be swimmin’ in golden apples by fall. Big un’s too, if’n we can use dragon poo.”
“Right.” Zeus regarded the open section of thick green grass around the tree and tried to imagine it filled with ripe apple trees, bursting with fruit to get all of those jealous goddesses off his case. “How much will it cost me?”
Other than my pride.
“Cost?” The stocky mare pushed back her floppy hat and looked up at him with her green eyes sparkling in the sunshine. “I figgure if’n we can take a few cuttings of the tree for our own use, say about ten percent of ‘em and a little of the dragon poo, we can get your orchard up and runnin’ for free.”
“Ten percent is fairly high,” said the unicorn standing beside Zeus. It almost made him jump when she spoke, because he had almost forgotten she was around. Abacus beads rattled as she made a few quick calculations and added, “Twenty-five drachmas per cutting in your possession, a full setup of fifty grafted seedlings established and fruiting before you remove your cuttings from the mountain, and twenty percent of the harvest off the resulting trees in your orchard for the next twenty years. And all of the dragon dung stays in Olympus.”
“Whoa there, sugarcube.” The earth pony shifted her floppy hat forward and glared. “Twenty drachmas per cutting, one hundred grafted seedlings established, half fruiting before we claim our cuttings, and ten percent of the harvest off the resulting trees in our orchards for twenty years. And an amount of dragon dung equal to twice the weight of gems we bring up to feed him.”
“A quarter of the weight of gems you bring to feed the dragon. Otherwise you can get your own dragon.” The unicorn thought for a moment. “The rest of the deal is fine, but full-gold drachmas, and fifteen percent of the gross harvest from your orchards.”
“Buck yes, full gold drachmas. Fifteen percent of the harvest is a mite high, though.”
“Better than you getting zero.” The unicorn beside Zeus kept her unblinking gaze focused on the farm pony until she gave out a sigh.
“Deal.” The earth pony spat into her hoof and held it out for Zeus, who looked at it for a moment while his brain tried to figure out how many drachmas and apples he had just made a deal for other than ‘lots.’ He carefully spat into his own hand and shook the earth pony’s outstretched hoof.
* Ω *
The afternoon sunlight glinted painfully off the gurgling stream in Zeus’ garden as he trudged along the pebbled path in his bare feet with the unicorn banker at his side. It was either this or have to listen to an endless dirge of harp music for as long as the unicorn was able to fill the garden with her songs, which seemed as if it was going to be for many years to come. Besides, with the way the previous negotiations had succeeded, there had to be a way to turn this situation to his advantage.
The green harpist jumped to her hooves as Zeus and his financial advisor strolled up, dropping almost immediately to her knees and proclaiming, “Greetings, Great Zeus. How might I serve you.”
It was tempting, except for the watchful eyes of Hera he could see peeking out of a window in their mansion and the dull ploinking of notes which had not stopped from the lyre hovering at her side.
“Why should I permit your lover… I mean your good friend upon my mountain?” said Zeus in a voice like thunder. “Specifically, what’s in it for me?”
It must have made an impact on the musician, because the dejected string of notes dripping out of her golden lyre stopped cold. Those golden eyes sparkled with hope, in a way that made him uncomfortably aware of the last sprite to escape from that cursed jar he had given Pandora to hold.
“Anything,” she breathed.
“Anything except that,” specified the unicorn servant who had maintained her position at Zeus’ side. “Great Zeus will require a substantial physical boon or service which will not be viewed negatively by Great Hera.”
“Oh.” The musician smiled. “I know exactly what you mean.”
* Ω *
Much later, Zeus stood in his garden looking at the two ponies occupying the low bench in the middle of the grass and flowers. The mood of the whole area had risen several notches, making it much less like his brother’s dismal Underworld and more like what his mountain was supposed to be. The new pony was a mare with the most distinctive swept-back mane that bounced up into a curl which seemed to defy gravity, and blue eyes that sparkled just as much as her lover’s… friend’s golden eyes. They had curled up together on the bench in a motion that seemed so perfectly ordinary, one reclining and one upright, and fairly glowed with mutual happiness as they presented Zeus and Hera with a small plate, upon which sat… things.
They were brown and looked entirely too much like poop for Zeus’ stomach, despite the earth pony’s continuous declaration about their taste and the amount of work that went into their creation. “Xocoatl?” he asked, nudging one with a fingertip. “Isn’t that the vile substance from the barbarians who worship the strange feathered snake god?”
“We call it chocolate now,” said the pony. “Food of the gods. And goddesses.”
At first, Zeus hesitated. Hera was standing just behind one shoulder and awaiting her turn at the dull brown things with great patience, as well as a certain attitude which indicated all of the times he had claimed “Gods first” was going to be bounced right back at him if he offered her the plate without sampling at least one of the offerings. Then he perked up. Over the years, he had eaten several things far more disgusting than this, some of which Hera had cooked for him. One taste and he could blast those two annoying ponies right off the mountain.
He popped a random brown lump into his mouth and bit down.
It was certainly not poop.
A burst of this ‘chocolate’ flavor swept across his tongue, carrying with it a mixed collection of nuts and seeds that only emphasised the flavor as he chewed. If he did not love Hera so much and knew just how she would express her ire if he withheld any of the little tasty items, he might have finished the entire platter himself. As he was Great Zeus and far wiser, the impulse only lasted a moment before he allowed his wife to also sample one of the delicious concoctions. Anything they had to say needed to wait until all of the chocolates were gone and Hera was quietly licking the plate.
“Acceptable,” said Zeus.
“Memblefmf,” said Hera as she finished licking the plate clean and eyed a tiny fragment still stuck to Zeus’ beard. “More?”
“That’s all I could bring up to the mountain at once,” said the pony. “It’s a long, long trip up the road. I can go back and bring some more up next week.”
“Next week?” Hera passed the empty plate back to Zeus. “Let me talk to my husband privately.”
“I don’t know what you’re going to say to me but I know it won’t work,” grumbled Zeus. “Olympus is far above the mortal world for good reason. It would take a miracle to bring the mortal world any closer.”
* Ω *
“Miraculous, isn’t it, Great Zeus?” The ‘engineer’ pony stood with Zeus on the edge of the mountain, looking down at the thin trail of steel and wood winding its way up the side of Olympus through tunnels and across wide gorges. At this distance, the ponies working on the construction seemed as small as ants and just as relentless. Day by day, the construction crawled up the majestic sides of the mountain, bringing with it steel rails and a chuffing ‘locomotive’ to fuel the growth. Apollo himself could not have given Hephaestus the plans nor the organization to build this ‘railroad’ into Olympus, and yet mere mortal ponies were progressing up the mountain just as easily as if they were building a stairway into the heavens.
Still… chocolate.
“Yes, it is indeed a marvelous device,” said Zeus, looking down upon it with only a small portion of his mind thinking about the size of the thunderbolt it would take to destroy this ‘railroad’ and how little time it would take the ponies to rebuild it.
Instead of doing something rash that he probably would wind up paying for anyway, he made his excuses and strode back through Olympus in the direction of what his wife had called a ‘spa’ of some sorts, which sounded like another barbarian intrusion into the mountain. It was much like the spiderweb of steel crawling up the side of the mountain, soon to be as annoying as one of Arachne's little webs she liked to leave in unexpected areas of his house. It would have assuaged his soul far more to stop in at Nethapletis’ former bar and drink ambrosia until it came out of his hairy ears, but the building was under construction with a ‘Trot-Thru’ open with only a limited menu of pastries and coffees available. The Nubian mortal had retired, but his pony replacement was expanding his ‘franchise’ across the mortal world below until Zeus expected every street corner and city square would have one of his Starbucks stores in it.
It took little effort to manifest his pony form as Zeus walked up to the window and picked up a quad venti half caf breve with one of the delicious crullers, and kept the form while trotting down the street afterwards. It just seemed easier, and steel-shod hooves rang off the paving stones more comfortably than sandals anyway. They had been a present from Hephaestus, who had decided that a stocky pony form was a great advantage in his line of work and had produced a masterful set of shoes for his father as an example of his craft. It only annoyed Zeus a little that the first two sets of gold and silver shoes had gone to Celestia and Luna. He preferred to think of them as prototypes, while the silvery steel on Great Zeus’ hooves was the culmination of his craft. They certainly went well with his handsome pony form, turning heads all over Olympus as he strode down the clean streets among the pony populace, enjoying the brisk morning on his way to his scheduled visit to the broad doorway of Thermae Alvei, the spa where Hera had told him to meet her.
Blocks of creamy pink quartz and pale blue slate made up the facing of the new building, and several streams of fragrant water vapor drifted into the air above it. He could not help but notice one of Celestia’s pegasi with the clipboard hovering above the building, checking the pollution levels of the rising steam. It was a reminder of how much of the running of Olympus he had delegated to the pony princess, but also a reminder of how much more free time he had now to engage in the pleasures of his position.
“Good morning, Great Zeus. We’re all ready for your appointment.” The bright-eyed and pink-cheeked earth pony at the entrance gestured him back through the waiting (and all pony) customers to a large room filled with pony servants and an astonishing array of soaping products as opposed to the olive oils which he was used to. Still in pony form, he found the soaping and scrubbing process to be far better than the bathhouse which had been here before, despite the nymph staff and their tendency to forget all about bathing when all the oiling started. Ponies were much more serious with the scrub brushes and scented soaps, giving Zeus a warm sparkling sensation as he was sluiced off with warm water before being escorted through a warm corridor to the steamy caldarium.
“By the way, Great Zeus, I must thank you again for allowing our baths to be serviced by your dragon,” said the young pink earth pony who walked alongside him through the warming corridor. “He is providing an environmentally-stable form of heating for the caldarium and added security in the event we have any disruptive visitors.”
“I had to put him somewhere,” grumbled Zeus even as the faint smell of brimstone and a rumbling from under his hooves made his nostrils tingle. It was a pleasant odor instead of the stale reek of olive oil, vaguely hinting at peppermint and bringing the entire chamber up to a blissfully steamy fog that he strode through in the direction of the splashes he could hear coming from the massive tub.
“Oh, and you have some guests in the soaking caldarium this morning, Great Zeus.” The pony winked at him. “I think you’ll appreciate your feminine company.”
“Really?” Zeus gingerly extended a hoof into the water, moving slowly, bit by bit as his hide became accustomed to the heat. There was not only the sound of giggling, but two different female giggles coming from the steamy fog on the other side of the tub, along with the deep bass profundo of his less-than-welcome brother, Poseidon.
“Zeus!” he bellowed. “How long has it been, brother?”
“Not long enough and far too long,” said Zeus as he gingerly got his footing on the bottom of the tub, allowing himself to float with just his head and mane above the steaming hot water. “I thought you were going to stay in your oceans and leave the mountains to me, dear sibling.”
“I was! At least until this fine vision of beauty showed up one day.” The steam cleared, and to Zeus’ expectations, Poseidon also had taken a handsome aquatic pony form for his dip into the hot water, although with a wide fluked tail descending down into the water and a slender horn rising up from the waves of white mane which flowed off his head and down the back of his neck like frothing seafoam. He was wrapped up very closely around another familiar pony as Celestia seemed to be trying to find a comfortable way to entwine around his brother, with Hera floating calmly to one side and with an expression of bemusement, whether at his own startled expression or at Poseidon’s obvious enamorment of the Sun Goddess.
“Good morn, husband.” Hera splashed some water in his direction with her hoof as her smug amusement turned into a broad smile. “We shall have to remain here instead of proceeding to the frigidarium. It seems Luna and your other brother are entertaining in there.”
Caught between disappointment and curiosity, Zeus tried to split the difference with a quiet, “Hmm?”
“They’re breaking the ice in more ways than one, dear brother,” said Poseidon with a splash of his broad fishy tail that threatened to send a large amount of their hot bath over the edge of the huge tub. “Far too cold for me, don’t you think, Celestia?”
Celestia shivered and drew closer to Poseidon. “I much prefer the warmer climes. I could soak in here forever.”
“Well we can’t,” said Hera, who had taken advantage of Zeus’ inattention to swim up beside him and nuzzle him behind the ear. “After we’re good and toasty, Zeus and I have an appointment to get our manes done and our hooves shined.”
“We do?” said Zeus.
* Ω *
Primped and styled within a cubit of being mistaken for Adonis, Zeus left the spa with a backwards wave to the smiling staff. Hera was still engaged with at least a dozen stylists improving her manestyle, which seemed a waste because of the stunning beauty she was already displaying. Even though he was not an oracle, he could predict a hot time at the mansion tonight and a short lifespan for the impressive manestyle, which would give her the excuse to stop by here again tomorrow for more primping and pampering.
He decided to take the long way home in a casual walk around the mountain, with a brief stop at Celestia’s towering temple just to look at the ongoing construction. With one goddess or another requesting space to throw celebrations or hold events, the relatively simple temple had expanded and then expanded some more, until now it dominated the whole mountain with more construction ongoing every minute of the day. A constant flow of ponies and gods or goddesses in pony form flowed in and out of the gates. It was easy to tell which were ‘tourists’ out to explore this fascinating city on the mountain from the way they kept looking up at the rapidly-growing buildings and raising ‘cameras’ to capture the moment. Zeus could even recognize some of his children in pony forms acting as guides for the visitors, pointing out all of the most interesting landmarks in the constantly changing city. Even Hephaestus had upgraded from his open forge to a modern and productive building which no longer left a trail of sooty black smoke tracing up into the sky. Clever devices of pony design and god-driven construction had made ‘Hep Inc’ into a busy custom production facility in which Zeus had to make a reservation to meet with his own son.
Still, the finest thunderbolts produced by his factory were reserved for only one god.
“Excuse me, Dad. Hello?” Hermes was hovering in front of him, in pegasus pony form, of course with his slim physique and bright brown eyes an unmistakable indicator of his identity, if the feather-bedecked sandal on his flanks was not a dead giveaway. The letter-stuffed saddlebags on his back were new, as well as a snappy blue uniform which matched the one on the grey pegasus mare hovering behind him with a most unhappy look on her face.
“Excuse me, Great Zeus,” she said, frowning at his son. “Special Trainee Hermes, is that the way you refer to a customer while on your mail route?”
“No, Ma’am.” Hermes produced several letters and drew himself up into a respectful salute while still hovering with slow beats of his broad wings. “Great Zeus, sir. I brought your mail. Did you have any correspondence which needs to be delivered today?”
“No, son.” Zeus caught the wink and the nod of the head Hermes gave him, and inspected the grey mailmare a little more carefully. There was a new glitter of gold from a ring in her ear and a certain unmistakable attentiveness she was paying to Hermes’ muscular rear as she hovered made Zeus take a second look at the mail he had just been given. One of the envelopes carried Hermes’ return address and looked suspiciously like a wedding invitation. He turned it over for a moment before opening it and confirming the contents. “I suppose congratulations are in order. Is this the lucky… mare?”
“Yes, sir.” The grey pegasus swept down and gave Zeus a brief hug and a nuzzle on the cheek before fluttering back up to hover next to his son. Both of them were wearing such cheesy grins that Zeus could not even be angry. After all, she was no cow, but for a pony, she was quite the looker, and Hermes was proving to be a chip off the old block.
“Glad to have you in the expanding family,” said Zeus with a nod.
“Am I showing already?” said the mare with a quick look at her tummy.
“You’re fine, dear,” said Hermes, gently nudging his bride-to-be down the road. “We’ll drop by the house tonight after dinner, Father, and tell you all about it.”
“Why not before dinner?” asked the mare as they flew away. Hermes’ response was lost to the wind, but Zeus expected it was something critical about Hera’s cooking. Even as the Great Zeus, he could not complain that Hera only knew how to boil goats, eggs, and anything else that wandered accidentally into the kitchen. Well, he could complain, but that would only make matters worse.
“Shall I arrange a suitable wedding gift, Great Zeus?” asked his unicorn servant, who had managed to fairly pop into existence right by his elbow again. “I would think a crib would be in order, and fairly soon.”
“Yes, yes,” grumbled Zeus in a good-natured fashion. It would not be the first descendent he had with wings. In an impulse, he added, “That cousin of yours who can cook cherry tarts, is she still available?”
“I believe so.” The unicorn checked her notebook. “Would you like to interview her for a position on your household staff?”
Zeus considered for a moment and shook his head. “No. Just hire her. She starts the minute she can set foot on the mountain. Or hoof. We’ll see how she can cook when she’s here.”
* Ω *
“A pie?” Zeus looked at the steaming pastry which had just come out of the oven and considered the source. A small forest of golden apple trees now adorned that corner of Olympus, growing faster and bigger than even he had expected. The dragon had been instrumental in the endeavor, or at least the back end of the dragon, and even though the tree had processed the dragon dung into apples, he still imagined he could sense the faint odor of brimstone in the delicious scent welling up from the crispy crust. He prodded the crust with his fork and watched as the crumbling brown fragment dropped into the sticky mixture of apples and whatever else made a pie inside, then he surged forward, fork first, picked up a bite of pie, and bit.
He was not even surprised anymore. It vaguely tasted like the raw golden apples he had sampled before, but on a bed of sugary goodness with the crisp crunch of the crust and the hot firmness of the sliced apples making him scoop up a second bite before the first one had been fully chewed.
“It’s good,” he managed to mumble to the earth pony servant between bites. “I don’ know wha’ could make it better.”
“Actually, Great Zeus,” started the hesitant pony, “my cousin sent up something called ‘iced cream’ for you to sample with the pie, if you want.”
He stopped, one bite of pie dripping on the plate in front of him as he held the fork firmly in mid-air. Then he nodded. “It’s worth a try.”
It was.
* Ω *
Everywhere Zeus looked, there were ponies. Blue ones, yellow ones, pink ones, all the colors of the rainbow and more, flying through the sky and trotting between the buildings like they owned the place. Well, they might actually own it, if his fuzzy recollections about last night, a few barrels of fermented cider, and several young mares with playing card cutie marks were accurate.
Cursed poker.
Still, the streets were clean, the sky clear and blue, and the city had never seemed happier. There were no gods chasing each other with borrowed lightning bolts, or screaming about their wives being turned into household appliances or mystic signs. The mail arrived on time, unstained with the evidence of Hermes’ little side-trips into nymph bordellos or showing up several centuries after the fact. The delightful smell of baking muffins drifted up from downstairs where his wife's newest servant (not slave) was engaged in a battle to the death with the forces of the kitchen ingredients, soon to emerge victorious with a tray of pure heavenly deliciousness for him to try.
He gave a sigh and slipped into his familiar pony form, with broad shoulders and a flowing mane. It had become more comfortable than human form, and he stretched once before heading downstairs with the kitchen as his destination. Olympus may not have been the place it was before, but that was acceptable.
