Friday, May 24, 2019

4.32: Strike Down The One That Leads Me

1183 BCE - Constellar Palace, Mt. Olympus.

Poseidon agreed to come to the Constellar palace, but he refused to stand before Hera’s throne, as they were currently enemies, so the gods and goddesses gathered on platform Alpha, overlooking Attica. Trellises covered with blooming vines had been placed around the platform to cut the mountain wind and beautify the area. Hestia reached out with her hand and summoned a large, round table for the gods to sit at as Hermes appeared with libations. It was the final touch in the preparations she’d made for the summit.


“Where are Aphrodite and Dionysus?” Zeus asked as he sat down.

“Aphrodite is still grieving Ares’ death and so refused to answer your summons,” Hermes said, “However, Aunt Aphy asked me to inform you that her only investment is in the mortal, Paris, and that her only condition for cooperation is immunity and protection for him and Helen. Now, I’m not one to tell you what to do, Pops, but personally, I don’t think it’s an unreasonable condition.”

“In the grand scheme of things I suppose it is not,” Zeus said, “I assume Dionysus was simply too drunk to answer our summons?”

“I could not rouse him,” Hermes said, “Though I do suspect he was faking. He clearly overindulged last night, but I don’t think it was wine he was drinking, if you know what I’m saying.”

Zeus didn’t know what Hermes was saying, but he didn’t much care. Dionysus had been the most disappointing of all Zeus’s sons - the original Dionysus Zeus sired by his sister, Demeter, might have turned out alright, but Hera had vivisected him after giving him his legacy, and the half-human clone she'd created to replace him had never been the same. Ultimately, he just wasn’t worth sparing too much thought over. “I doubt he would have been helpful anyway,” Zeus growled.

The King of Olympus turned his attention to the assembled gods, “Achilles has passed now, joining Heracles in whatever hereafter there is. I knew that day would come sooner than later, but I did not know that I would also lose Ares. Ares was never my favorite son, but he was one of us, and in the past twenty years he’d finally started to grow on me. I’m deeply unhappy to lose him to this ridiculous war; killed by a mortal, no less. How does that make us look?”

“Ares would be fine if Hera hadn’t given the Greeks steel weapons from Hephaestus’s forge, or if Athena hadn’t given Diomedes the strength to stand up to one of us,” Apollo said, “how many conventions of warfare does that violate?”

“I don’t know,” Athena said, “How many did it violate when you and your sister ravaged the Greek army with plagues?”

“Apolllo isn’t wrong,” Poseidon said, “sharing our power with mortals, like that – how was it even possible?”

“That’s a good question,” Zeus said, “the last time I fought humans with that sort of power was when I felled Typhon and Echidna.”

Athena shrugged her shoulders, “Trade secret.”

“I think we all have at least a few of those, right?” Hera said.

“I don’t care to rehash the history of this war in detail,” Zeus said, “It has been tedious and irritating enough to observe in progress; I don’t want to relive it - I want to end it. I don’t care who did what or who said what. If this war is not over by the time we leave this room, I will choose a side and finish the war myself. Now, do any of you want to gamble on the assumption that I will choose your side?”

Hera and Poseidon sized up the situation for a moment but finally agreed to negotiate.

“That bitch Aphrodite caused all of this,” Hera said, “Your twin sister encouraged Paris to violate the sanctity of Helen’s marriage to Menelaus. Thousands of married men are fighting to reclaim Helen, because if the Queen of Sparta can be spirited away by a pretty boy, then any woman can. If I do not support them in this, I forfeit their respect for me as the goddess of marriage. And because they have enabled Paris’s treachery, the Trojans must be punished.”

“I care nothing for the Trojans,” Poseidon admitted, “But when I built Troy’s walls, I guaranteed they would never be breached. If I allow Troy to fall, I break my word.”

“The Trojans pray to me for protection as well,” Hestia said, “So long as they are the defenders in this conflict, then I must side with them.”

“Apollo?” Hermes asked for his brother’s opinion as the Trojan’s best advocate in attendance.

Apollo started to answer but his sister cut him off, “The Greek army violated his temple and worshippers,” Artemis said, “They must pay.”

“They did pay,” Athena argued, “When Apollo afflicted them with one of his plagues, years ago.”

“A plague that was ended when your servant, Nemesis - stolen from me, I might add,” Zeus said, “Threatened to hunt my sons down and kill them. How is it, exactly, that our weapon has become so formidable?”

“Nemesis is an ally, not a servant,” Athena said, “and I did not steal her. She spurned you and you banished her, in the cruelest way possible. Do not come to me whinging about your mistakes.”

“Whinging?! Remember who you talk to, daughter,” Zeus said menacingly.

Apollo tried to get the conversation back on track, “I punished the Greeks and then I spared them. Both decisions were mine, yes, but they are still in my temple, mocking me, are they not? How does that make us look?”

Dionysus is in your temple,” Hermes pointed out, “I don’t think we can hold the actions of his followers against the Greeks, can we? They have been antagonistic towards both sides, and now count many Trojans among their numbers.”

“Dionysus has been capitalizing on both sides of a bloody conflict," Demeter said, "just like you and your followers, Hermes."

“Hermes cannot be faulted for profiting off of his neutrality in the present situation,” Zeus said, “But I will see to Dionysus’s punishment once this is over. Will that satisfy you two?”

Apollo agreed that it would, though Artemis noted it would depend on the severity of the punishment.

“Poseidon, Hestia,” Hermes asked, “Hera has asked that the Trojans be punished for their complicity in the abduction of Helen. If this can be done without the Greeks breaking Troy’s defenses, would you accept that?”

“If the Trojans can fall without Troy itself physically falling?” Poseidon asked, “How would that be possible?”

“The Trojans have been packed into that city living in their own filth for years,” Apollo said, “If I hadn’t been protecting them, they wouldn’t have survived this long. Allowing the right plague to gain traction could wipe out the city within a week. Faced with that, the Trojans would throw open their gates themselves and flee right into the Greeks’ hands.”

“Likely passing the plague to the Greeks,” Athena pointed out, “Including the Athenian soldiers and others whom I am bound to protect.”

“And any that survived the plague might carry it back to Greece with them,” Demeter said, “And the last thing we need right now is a blight on our Ambrosia crops.”

“What if Apollo used his powers to vaccinate some of the Greeks?” Hermes asked, “Sparing them the Trojans’ end and ensuring they don’t carry the plague back to their families.”

“I’d have to vaccinate at least 90% of them to contain the disease I have in mind,” Apollo said.

“I could delay the Greek ships,” Poseidon said, “if the disease spreads and kills quickly, we can easily insure that none of the infected make it home.”

“I could accept that,” Athena said.

“Agreed,” Demeter said, “So long as the plague is quarantined to Trojan shores, I see no problem.”

“Excuse me, but I’m still here…?” Hestia said, “And I’m not okay with Apollo wiping out the Trojans with a plague!”

“I don’t have to introduce a plague,” Apollo said, “There are a half dozen dormant pestilences waiting to claim that city. If I simply stop protecting them while they’re still bottled up in there, one will do the job. It will take a bit longer, but it will bring an entirely natural end to the war. No one will blame you for the city’s destruction.”

“Natural versus unnatural isn’t the issue,” Hestia said, “Nor is blame. You’re talking about thousands of innocent people – children, babies – dying in horrible ways.”

“Godhood has no room for such sentimentality, sister,” Demeter said, “This war has gone on too long as it is, and many of the Trojans raise their children worshiping Dionysus's friends in the Eastern pantheons. We owe them nothing.”

“Hephaestus,” Zeus asked, “What does your foresight tell you? Surely one of your successors will have heard something about the Fall of Troy?”

Hephaestus had been quiet since they’d taken their seats at the table, but he finally spoke, “The Trojan War is well known to my future selves,” he said, “though facts surrounding it will quickly be lost to time,” he said honestly, but then he lied, “No one will know for certain how it all ended. They know that Troy did lose the war, and it seems likely that it was due to a plague, a virus. Millennia from now the humans will even categorize certain viruses as ‘Trojans’ in reference to Troy’s fate.”

“That would seem to settle it then,” Hermes said as he raised a goblet, “Another plague, properly executed, will solve everything. Third time's the charm.” Hestia didn’t join the celebration, and instead stormed past Zeus and Poseidon’s guards, presumably to sulk in her quarters.

“Finally, a peaceful solution to this ugly affair,” Zeus said, ignoring his quietest sister’s tantrum, “Praise to me for my benevolence and wisdom!”

“That reminds me,” Hera said, “Just in case you actually pulled this off, I had Hephaestus forge you something to honor your contribution.” She handed her husband a nondescript golden box.

“Well, it doesn’t look like much…” Zeus laughed.

“The gift is in the box, father,” Hephaestus said.

Zeus laughed and opened the box – there was nothing in it but gray dust.



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