The Gift of the Lethe

Threats From the Sky

Athena lowers her hands from the loom, examining the tapestry lying there. She's had to weave every night, the rage is still churning in her gut and the weaving settles it for a time. This piece is nowhere near as dangerous as that first one, it doesn't scream of treachery at a single glance.

It's another tapestry depicting the throne room of Olympus, and at a glance it looks to be a peaceful, serene picture. A scene showing the glory of Olympus, the majesty of the thrones. Each of them glows with power beneath the light of the sun, but if someone were to look closer they would see more.

The central throne, the one belonging to her father, gleams more dully than the rest. Faint cracks cross its surface, light enough that they could be mistaken for wrinkles in the tapestry cloth. The cracks don't stop at the throne either, they spread across the floor of the throne room, branching like lightning.

There is blood too, in this tapestry. Again, it is centered on Zeus' throne, scattered over its golden surface. Without an artist's eye, an observer wouldn't be able to see the darker gold of the ichor flecks that mar the surface of the throne, but they are there. There is a dark scuff at its feet and an out-of-place glint of light at its feet.

Even if she can't know for certain, the context of the last tapestry gives Athena an idea of what has occurred to create the scene depicted here. Athena reaches up to remove the tapestry from the loom and move it somewhere else, but there is a soft noise behind her, a shifting of weight. It makes her turn around.

Her father is standing there, a strange expression on his face. She frowns at him, taking a step back towards the tapestry. She finds herself unsettled, both by his odd expression and the faint smell of ozone in the air.

"Father? What is it?"

"We need to talk, Athena."

"About?"

Zeus snorts. "You know what this is about."

"I don't, actually. Why don't you tell me, Father?"

Zeus holds out his hand between them and an image flickers into life there. A familiar image, of woven threads. It's made by a less familiar hand than Athena's, but she still recognizes it for what it is and her breath catches in her throat.

"What-"

Zeus' expression darkens. "What is this, daughter? Don't deny it, I can feel your imprint upon it. This is connected to you, and strongly."

She could perhaps try to deny it still, by saying how the signature would appear to be hers, but she can't. That would be betraying her children, and they are innocents. She will not bring them harm. So she lifts her chin instead, staring her father down. She will not betray her children, but there is a chance she could still defuse this situation.

"What am I supposed to be looking at, Father? A piece of artwork? Gruesome, perhaps, reminiscent of ages past. But nothing damning, surely?"

"Then what is this?" He jabs his finger at the master bolt lying in the pool of ichor and the smell of ozone in the air heightens. "You know what I think, daughter? This has your imprint, but do you know what else has your imprint? Or should I say who?" Athena swallows, trying to hide her fear. Is he catching on to it being Thera, who wove this?

But when he speaks again, she flinches in shock. "Your lover carries your imprint. Your Pallas. So either one of two things has occurred. Option one: Pallas wove this as a threat, and so she has commited treason. Option two: she influenced you to weave this yourself, and so she has committed treason. Either way, her life is forfeit."

Athena lurches forward, a cry rising from her throat. "No! You can't!"

"I am the king of the gods, I very well can. Goodbye, daughter."

With a painful crackle of static over her skin, Zeus disappears, leaving Athena alone in the room with nothing but the smell of ozone and her own despair. She doesn't move for a moment, stunned in her disbelief. Then with a sob, she turns and runs out of the room, racing for the nearest window. She lets out a sharp whistle as she does, so by the time she reaches the open window an owl has already landed on the stone. Athena drops to her knees before it, staring the owl in the eyes.

"I need you to get a message to Pallas. Tell her that my father is hunting for her, and that he wants to kill her. Tell her to be on her guard, and inform my sister of the situation." She gasps for air, taking her first breath since she started speaking. "Now go! Hurry!"

The owl dives off of the windowsill, shooting away. Athena sags back, twisting to fall against the wall.

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Well, Zeus has lost his last tether to sanity.
What do you think he'll do? Will something happen to Pallas? What will happen next? Tell me your thoughts!

Happy reading and I'll see you next chapter!

~ Goddess of Fate, signing out