11 Banquet

Order is the fundamental thread that weaves the fabric of existence. It is the guiding principle that brings harmony and stability to the chaotic tapestry of life. From the smallest atom to the grandest celestial body, Order governs all.

In the realm of mortals, Order establishes the foundations of justice, ensuring that laws are upheld and fairness prevails. It is the pillar that supports the delicate structure of society, fosters cooperation, and enables progress. Beyond the mortal realm, Order maintains cosmic equilibrium. It orchestrates the movements of the stars, the dance of planets, and the ebb and flow of celestial energies. Without Order, the universe would descend into chaos, rendering existence a cacophony of randomness and disorder.

The concept of Order transcends boundaries, permeating every aspect of reality. It is the symphony that unites the realms of gods and mortals, forging a cosmic bond between all beings. When Order is upheld, the celestial and earthly realms align, creating a seamless tapestry of interconnectedness and purpose.

- Themis, Titaness of Divine Order, Justice and Law.

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Syncretism.

A concept that envisioned the amalgamation of various religions, cultures, and schools of thought into a new societal structure and framework. This audacious notion troubled Apollo as deeply as the ancient laws did, for it showcased the formidable power mortals possessed over the gods.

The fall of Greece seemed inexorable; it was destined to occur one way or another. In due course, they would be conquered by the ascendant Roman Empire and assimilated into the very fabric of its culture. The Romans, with their distinct cultural nuances, embraced and adapted almost everything about Greece.

Even the Olympian Gods themselves wouldn't be able to escape the blasphemy that was syncretism. The ideals and beliefs of the Roman Empire forcefully imposed themselves upon the Gods, reshaping their essence and giving birth to new aspects within them, all aligned with the values and expectations of the Romans.

In this new form, they were no longer the formidable deities who commanded the forces of nature and stood above humanity. Instead, they became tied to the Romans, compelled to adhere to the collective whims and expectations of the Roman Empire. This was where the Olympians would begin to fall from grace.

Apollo fully comprehended Athena's intense animosity and hatred towards Rome, as depicted in the Percy Jackson series. To him, this abomination seemed to surpassed even the despicable institution of slavery. So much for being a god, he sneered inwardly, feeling disheartened by the blasphemy of the divine.

As he pondered over the concept of Syncretism, Apollo cast a side-glance at Themis in contemplation, who was guiding him towards the grand throne room of Olympus. It was there that the Gods had congregated, awaiting his ascension to join their ranks.

"Lady Themis," Apollo called out inquisitively, his clear voice capturing the attention of the revered lawmaker of both mortal and divine.

Themis turned towards him, her eyes as piercing as ever. "Yes?" she replied, her curiosity evident.

"I have a request," Apollo stated, intentionally keeping his words brief given the circumstances.

Themis' eyes sparkled with intrigue. "Oh," she responded, pausing briefly to ponder. "Come to my abode after your ascension, and I will be all ears, Lord Apollo."

"I shall then," Apollo hummed in acceptance. In the depths of his divine mind, a plan was already taking shape to counteract the effects of syncretism on the divine. Central to this plan was the concept of Order, for civilization itself was constructed upon its foundational principles. Furthermore, Order was not confined to human nature alone; it possessed a universal essence that transcended boundaries. Even the Ancient Laws were intertwined with a Greater Order, also known as the Golden Order, which permeated the very fabric of the cosmos.

For Apollo, the divinity of Order was indispensable. Not only would it enable him to dismantle the repercussions of syncretism, but it was also crucial for his entire path. At the heart of it all stood Themis, his grandaunt. She had been present in Delos during his birth, even cradling him in her arms. However, Apollo was uncertain whether their shared history would be sufficient to convince Themis to assume the role of his guide in matters of Order. Maybe he should perform a divination on it, but the future was ever—

"We've arrived," Themis proclaimed.

The path they had followed led them to a grand and imposing doorway towering above them. Its surface was adorned with intricate etchings depicting the elder Olympians engaged in a fierce struggle against the mighty Titans during the Titanomachy. The vivacity of the murals even managed to entrap Apollo, as if the weight of history and divine conflict hung in the air.

"It was a haunting time," Themis commented, her voice tinged with an eerie sense of remembrance.

"But we emerged victorious," Apollo asserted, his tone carrying a hint of relief amidst the weight of the past.

"Yes, we did," Themis echoed softly, her words almost whispering as if acknowledging the significance of the hard-fought victory once more. Then she turned to face him, her gaze inscrutable yet piercing. "This is your moment," she said, her voice carrying a weight of significance.

"Indeed," Apollo said, meeting her eyes, a solemn acknowledgment settling over him. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what lay ahead, aware of the gravity of the impending ascension.

Themis' strenuous expression softened ever so lightly. "So live in it, Apollo," she said, her voice laced with empathy. It was as if she could sense the inner troubles he carried within him.

"I shall," Apollo said, his gaze fixed ahead, a genuine smile spreading across his face. In that moment, a sense of tranquilly washed over him, cleansing his heart. "Grandaunt."

Themis nodded, eyes forward, and began to make her way towards the door. Her voice carried back to him, with a hint of authority. "What are your divinities, Apollo?"

Apollo took a step closer, matching her pace, and considered her question. "Light, Truth, Archery, Prophecy, Foresight, and Divination," he responded. There was no point in hiding them anyway. Together, they continued their stride towards the door.

A brief pause interrupted Themis's steps, as if she were surprised by his words. But just as quickly, she regained her composure and resumed her purposeful stride. Finally, they arrived right in front of the grand entrance, and Themis turned to face him, a transformation occurring in her very form. Her eyes were now veiled by golden cloth, and in her hands were a judgement scale and a silver sword. Her voice reverberated with authority, her words resonating throughout Olympus and the realms beyond. "I present to you!" she boomed, her declaration ringing with unwavering power. "Apollo, the son of Mighty Zeus and Demureless Leto, and the God of Light, Truth, Archery, Prophecy, Foresight, and Divination."

With an earth-shaking rumble, the colossal door began to creak open, its divine hinges protesting against the weight of eternity. Apollo, unaffected by the grand spectacle, strode forward with calm confidence. All eyes were fixed on him as he made his way into the throne room, each step echoing through the vast chamber.

The throne room of Olympus exuded an aura of unquestionable authority and magnificence, as if every nook and cranny pulsated with the raw energy of the divine. The high vaulted ceiling seemed to reach for the heavens themselves, with its celestial tapestry adorned with intricate carvings depicting the constellations of the night sky. Mighty pillars, their surfaces etched with celestial wonders, framed the vast expanse, their imposing presence a testament to the indomitable power housed within Olympus.

At the heart of this breathtaking sight stood a blazing hearth, its radiance casting dancing shadows across the room. Encircling the hearth, a majestic dais rose with regal grace, bearing the thrones of the divine rulers. Every seat was occupied, each one a symbol of authority and sovereignty. Zeus, the King of Gods, sat at the centre, flanked by the regal figures of Hera and Poseidon.

To Hera's side, Athena, Demeter, Artemis, Aphrodite, and Hestia held their thrones, emanating an air of wisdom, warmth, grace, and beauty. On Poseidon's side, Ares, Hephaestus, and Hades sat, their presence resonating with strength and power. Finally, off to the side of Hades sat an empty and unremarkable throne, a stark contrast to the overwhelming splendour that permeated every inch of the surrounding space.

All eyes locked onto Apollo, some warm and gentle but most calculating and scrutinising, but he met them all evenly, his clairvoyant senses attuned to the flood of emotions emanating from each individual. Amidst the sea of probing looks, one pair captivated him above all—the eyes of his dear stepmother, Hera. Within her gaze, a simmering hatred lay veiled, burning with intensity. Yet beneath the blazing inferno, something unexpected stirred just for a fleeting moment, almost like an illusion, but it was there, and he grasped it:

Envy.

Apollo kept his composure intact as their piercing gazes scrutinised him, his footsteps resounding through the hushed and grave atmosphere of the throne room. Gradually, he approached his father, standing face-to-face with the King of Gods and meeting his stare. With a nod tinged with deference, he acknowledged his presence. "Father," he breathed, producing a gleaming, razor-edged ivory artefact—a tooth plucked from the jaws of the Mighty Python, its radiance brimming with lethal allure.

As Apollo presented the tooth of the Mighty Python to Zeus, all eyes turned to the gleaming artefact in Apollo's hands, a tangible symbol of his triumph over the formidable serpent. The tooth radiated a faint aura, a remnant of the Python's earthly power—this offering was symbolic on so many levels, untold but understandable to everyone in the Olympian council.

Zeus, his gaze fixed on the tooth, seemed momentarily taken aback. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by an expression of profound satisfaction. He extended his hand, palm upturned, and Apollo carefully placed the tooth within his father's grasp.

"Son of mine," Zeus began, his voice resounding with a blend of paternal pride and profound acknowledgement. "This tooth, a testament to your valour and strength, shall find its place among my treasures. Your victory over Python and claim of Delphi have not gone unnoticed, and it is with great honour that I accept this gift."

As Zeus closed his hand around the tooth, a surge of divine energy pulsed through the throne room, its power rippling through the air. Then, without uttering a word, he released his grip, allowing the tooth to float gracefully out of his palm and towards Hephaestus, who accepted it readily, already aware of his unspoken orders.

With that done, Zeus refocused on Apollo, declaring with might and authority. "Apollo, my son, may your light guide and illuminate the path for mortals and gods alike. Ascend to your rightful place among us."

Apollo's gaze shifted away from Zeus, his piercing eyes sweeping across the room once more. With measured steps, he retreated, distancing himself from the powerful presence of the King of Gods.

His path led him towards a vacant and inconspicuous throne, tucked away beside the formidable and dark figure of Hades, who was looking at him with begrudging acknowledgment. The seat seemed devoid of significance, blending into the shadows. And yet, as Apollo settled upon it, a potent energy coursed through his being, causing the very essence of the throne to undergo a miraculous transformation.

In a celestial spectacle, the once nondescript throne underwent a divine metamorphosis. It embraced the essence of Apollo, mirroring his radiance and magnificence. Gleaming with resplendent gold, the throne emerged as a testament to his grandeur and a symbol of his divine authority. Its brilliance illuminated the room, casting a golden aura that permeated the air, declaring his rightful place among the Olympus.

In an instant, Apollo was consumed by a torrent of newfound power, surging through his very being like an exploding star. The intensity of it was overwhelming; his strength was multiplied manifold by this raw force. Yet he sensed it and felt it yearning to merge with his own essence, as if seeking unity within him. Apollo inwardly snorted, seizing hold of that power before it could intertwine with his being, resolute in preserving the distinction between his inherent abilities and this enchanting surge. As he did so, his thoughts raced, contemplating his situation.

'Just as I suspected, the source of the power of thrones lies in the very essence of being an 'Olympian,' intertwined with Olympus and all it represents... It sheds light on how Father had the power to turn other Olympians into mortals... It truly is a double-edged sword... And my divination was spot on; Father remains oblivious to my manipulation of the Olympian power... But why? Perhaps he never anticipated someone rejecting this intoxicating gift...By the way, I need to check on my idiotic sister; hopefully my words reached her…'

"How do you feel, son?" Zeus rumbled, his deep voice cutting through the air and drawing Apollo's attention.

Apollo could sense the weight of the council's gaze shifting towards him; their anticipation was palpable. He kicked back on his gilded throne, allowing himself to relax into a lazy yet radiant grin. "Never been better, father," he declared, his words dripping with a hint of swagger. And he wasn't exactly wearing a mask, since this was his moment after all.

Zeus's eyebrow arched, a blend of pride and amusement dancing in his eyes. "Apollo, the Olympian God of Light, Truth, Archery, Prophecy, Foresight, and Divination," he declared, his voice resonating with thunderous might, the sound reverberating not just throughout Olympus but the entire world.

Apollo nodded respectfully to the King of Gods, acknowledging his newfound place among the Olympians. Regardless of the myths that portrayed Olympus, this was now his true home.

Rising from his majestic throne, Zeus bellowed, "In honour of my son and daughter, Apollo and Artemis," his voice booming through the hallowed halls of Olympus. "Let the festivities commence!"

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The banquet was in full swing, an extravagant affair befitting the grandiosity of the Olympian pantheon. The ethereal melodies of the Nine Muses filled the air, their enchanting tunes igniting the spirit of celebration. In the main palace of the Gods, a colossal hall overflowed with an assembly of deities, both mighty Titans and divine beings, gathering to honour Apollo and Artemis.

A golden fountain adorned with nectar and ambrosia stood as the centrepiece, a symbol of abundance and immortality. The sweet nectar flowed freely, its golden hues reflecting the divine radiance that surrounded the hall. Natural spirits flitted about, their ethereal forms attending to the needs of the immortals, ensuring their desires were met.

In the midst of it all, Apollo and Artemis, the guests of honour, stood at the heart of the festivities, their presence commanding the attention of the divine assembly. Accompanied by their mother and grandmother, they exuded a regal aura, their newfound status as Olympians evident in their confident demeanours.

As the radiant twins basked in the glory of their ascension, Gods and Titans alike approached, one after another, to offer their heartfelt congratulations. The air was charged with an electric energy—a blend of excitement and admiration for the twins.

Amidst the celestial symphony of praises, there was an undeniable allure to the atmosphere. Whispers of enchantment filled the space, their voices carrying an undertone of sensuality.

Apollo, ever the charming and exuberant deity, found himself caught up in the playful banter that flowed through the gathering. With his infectious laughter and mischievous glint in his eyes, he weaved words like strands of golden sunlight, wrapping the atmosphere in a vibrant tapestry of delight.

But everything came crashing down in an instant when a certain someone made their entrance. Apollo had been leaning in towards Selene, the Moon Titaness, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, dear Selene, it's not just flattery. I speak nothing but the truth..." His voice trailed off as his gaze shifted towards the approaching figure. The other immortals around them instinctively backed away, creating a clear path for her to draw near to Apollo.

"I hope we can continue this conversation another time," Apollo whispered, his voice laced with an invitation, as his gaze flicked back to Selene.

"Of course," Selene replied, her silver eyes tracing the perfect contours of Apollo's face, a smile mirroring his own. "You know where to find me." With subtle grace, she left his side, creating ample space for Apollo and the approaching figure.

It was none other than Athena, the grey-eyed Goddess of Wisdom, who stood before them. She exuded a captivating beauty that transcended the ordinary, radiating an air of regal elegance befitting an empress. Her sharp features and dignified demeanour commanded attention. Surprisingly, she wore a long sleeveless gown, a departure from her usual attire, and her once tightly bound hair cascaded freely, flowing with grace.

Apollo locked eyes with Athena, stormy grey meeting piercing golden. "Ah, Athena," he acknowledged the Goddess of Wisdom with a nod as she stood before him.

"Congratulations on your ascension, Apollo," Athena stated, her voice carrying a measured tone. "I am pleased to see your talents recognised. Perhaps we can collaborate in the future."

Apollo's curiosity was piqued, and there was a hint of intrigue in his eyes. "It would be an honour," he replied sincerely, lifting his cup in a toast.

Athena's goblet met his with a soft clink. "I must admit, your mastery over light is truly impressive," she complimented, taking a sip of nectar.

"Oh, that was just one of my many ideas." Apollo shrugged nonchalantly.

"Modesty doesn't suit you, Apollo," Athena remarked, casting a sidelong glance in his direction.

Apollo met her grey eyes. "So I've been told," he retorted. "But you must admit, it has its own charm, doesn't it?"

There was a brief pause, during which Athena's expression remained unreadable. "I suppose that's subjective," she replied at last, her voice devoid of any hint of emotion.

Apollo leaned back towards her, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe so," he drawled lazily, his eyes locked with Athena's. "But luckily, it seems we both appreciate the charm of an intellectual exchange."

Athena's lips curled into a small smile, her unwavering gaze meeting his. Her voice carried a playful note, but beneath it, there was an unmistakable undertone of challenge. "Indeed," she unexpectedly echoed. "I must say, Apollo, I anticipate our future exchanges."

'Interesting..' Apollo mused, sipping the nectar.

A sudden interruption shattered the brief silence as a seductive voice pierced the air. "Well, well," she chimed, her sweetness tinged with mischief, instantly capturing their attention. "What do we have here?"

And there she stood, Aphrodite, emerging with an irresistible allure. The legends and tales hadn't exaggerated when they spoke of her as the epitome of beauty, every inch crafted to perfection. But compared to Desire, she paled, a feeble candle flickering in the presence of an untamed cosmic inferno. Aphrodite's beauty, though appealing, was tamed, restrained, and lacking the raw intensity that Desire exuded—a supernova hungry to devour everything in its path.

That was Desire.

Apollo realised out-of-the-blue.

"Did I just catch my fellow Olympians flirting with each other?" The voice of Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, oozed with sickly sweetness as her ever-changing eyes darted back and forth between Athena and Apollo.