Smoke & Mirrors

Prophetic

Apollo arrived at the Council meeting despite the fact that he wanted to be anywhere but the lofty pavilion in the midst of his quarreling, problematic family. Today was going to suck, he knew, the topic of discussion infinitely unpleasant. As a precaution, he’d mentally prepared for this day like he would for an upcoming battle once the meeting had been set in his calendar.

The only thing keeping him anchored and present was the fact that this was what SHE wanted.

Across the room, a pair of eyes followed him, the sensation familiar enough that he knew his twin was tracking every moment he made.

Maybe she worried that he would make a scene. He certainly considered it, but Kath was his friend first and foremost. Whatever he felt for her, whatever animosity he felt towards Hades, their friendship superseded that.

Apollo held strong to that thought as he took his throne. Eyes sweeping across the pavilion, he began to realize something with a squeeze in his chest.

Sides were starting to form.

To his left, Aphrodite was holding court with Demeter, his twin, Hermes, Poseidon, and surprisingly, Haephestus. Zeus and Athena were speaking on the other side of the floor, Ares listening with a thoughtful look on his awful face. It wasn’t much, but if Poseidon and Zeus were on the same side…

Dionysus, just arriving, strutted across to him, holding his signature wine goblet in one hand while he kept the other one tucked in his pocket. He stood and met his friend at the base of his throne, clasping hands.

“Please tell me I am not the only one thinking about the absurdity of this meeting,” Dio muttered, eyes scanning Apollo. “And I don’t suppose you’ll be voting out of self-interest today.”

He made himself muster a smile and shrugged a shoulder. “I just want her to be happy,” Apollo replied, meaning every word that came from his mouth.

“That’s good,” he murmured, clapping him on the shoulder. “More fish in the sea and whatnot. Maybe you can finally get rid yourself of your disgusting morals, just go to the Oracle, and see who you’ll really end up with.”

He frowned. “You know I can’t do that.”

Dio raised a brow. “Why? ‘Cause it’s cheating?”

“Yes, because it’s cheating.” Apollo rolled his eyes. “Look, what’s important today is Kath and her wishes. That means making sure she gets the majority vote.”

“She will,” he said with confidence that surprised him. “Meaning no offense, but Kath has no ambition for power, an odd thing for a very powerful goddess, and poses a very unreal threat to Zeus. She and Hades only have to prove that and the next thing we know, we’ll all be going down to his domain for the wedding and watching them pop out heirs one after the other.”

He tried not to wince too obviously at that. Dionysus saw anyway and pinned him with a serious look.

Thankfully, Hestia had already arrived, the Goddess of the Hearth looking tranquil as she always did as she approached the pit in the middle of the pavilion. The rest of the Olympians made their way to their thrones, settling down while Hestia neatly smoothed the back of her crystal-beaded dress that made her seem like autumn incarnate while she sat on the pearl-stone lip of the pit.

Eyes as warm as her fire swept across their formation, a small frown marring her otherwise pleasant expression. “Where is Hera?” she asked Zeus.

Zeus shrugged and his sister pinned him with a disapproving look. Once again, Apollo was hit by how ancient his ‘aunt’ was compared to his ‘father’.

She was the firstborn of Rhea and Cronus, after all, even with that nasty business of spending the first few moments of life in her father’s gut. They all knew Hestia held a power greater than some of them combined, but her soft, kind heart and love for her family made her comfortable letting others shine.

His father knew this as well, which was why, despite there only being twelve official seats on the Council, no meeting could start without Hestia. Her hearth’s fire would signal each beginning and end, and she had the final say in matters that otherwise ended in a tied vote.

“She shouldn’t be queen if she cannot be bothered to appear on time,” Demeter said with an air of self-importance.

“Don’t start,” Zeus merely warned, before a chariot pulled by peacocks arrived with the wheels skidding on the shimmering, pale-pink floors.

Beside him, Hephaestus harrumphed in distaste.

For that was the Queen of Olympus, in a regal dress made of peacock feathers, disembarking her chariot. Her black hair cut sharply just below her chin, a crown of pearls sitting atop it. Her eyes should have been the first sign of lethal danger as they settled on each of the gods present one by one, her soft pink lips curving into a beatific smile that fooled no one.

They stood, as was befitting her station, despite some doing so out of obligation. Hera made it up to her throne beside Zeus, and once she was sitting down, they followed suit.

Zeus turned to Hermes sitting a few seats to his left. “Where are the petitioners?”

Before the God of Messengers could cough out an answer, the very mountain rumbled. Two columns of thick, swirling black smoke appeared one after the other. He held his breath as he watched the display of power and ignored the staccato beating of his heart or the dread coiling in the pit of his stomach. His hands tightened on the armrests as Hades stepped out of the darkness.

The dark god wore his shadows and smoke like he wore his battle regalia. Glowing black eyes stared them all down before finding their mark within Zeus, each step forward causing ripples of his power to rumble in his chest. Apollo searched for his Helm of Darkness but it was surprisingly nowhere to be seen. He didn’t doubt it wasn’t far away, however, and would make an appearance should things not go as they planned. A glance at the other gods told him that they were probably thinking the same thing as him.

For this was the Master of Death, Lord of the Underworld, and he had a feeling he hadn’t come today to compromise. He tore his eyes from Hades, focusing on the other pillar of darkness, knowing who was still cloaked within it.

But knowing wasn’t enough to prepare him or his emotions for the unveiling.

Kath stepped forward and went no further, not that she needed to in order to make a point. She was dressed head to toe in black and red so dark it might as well have been the color of blood. Her gown contrasted so deeply with her skin that she looked almost pale. And the crown of flowers upon her head were blood roses. As if her makeup and her outfit weren’t subtle enough.

He heard someone mutter a curse. He was inclined to do the same.

She clasped her hand in front of her, chin never dipping as she fixed her gaze upon the god that was supposed to be her father. The ring on her finger made his mouth go dry.

Behind them, Hestia lit the hearth. The image of Hades and Kath backlit like that became more disturbing.

“Hades.” Zeus’ voice boomed like thunder rolling overhead. “State your case before the Council.”

Apollo expected Hades to say something that would piss Zeus off, or at least throw him a patronizing look, but there was nothing but pure intent smoldering in his eyes as he said, “Lords and Ladies of the Olympian Council, I come before you today with my intended, the Lady Kathréftis, to ask for your blessing in our marriage.”

The words were formal, ancient; lacking the kind of gallant pageantry he associated with Hades. It was almost as if he was reciting lines from a manuscript already long forgotten. Kath didn’t speak, her expression carefully blank as she waited.

It was then he realized that they were playing this by the book. Literally.

It made sense; Hades was older than him— old enough to have been there when protocols were established for different situations and accompanying procedures. He probably had a copy of it lying somewhere in his expansive libraries and took a refresher. A smart move on their part, grudging as he was to admit that. If they followed every stinking rule, it would just be harder for Zeus to turn their request down.

He looked at his father then. Despite the hard lines on his face, his blue eyes had always been rather telling, or at least it was to Apollo. He knew whenever his anger was the kind one would have to tread lightly or one that was safe to challenge. It was what kept him in the relatively good books of Zeus, unlike most people. So, he knew what it meant when the blues in them were shifting with the light.

Despite what others might think, eons of being together could never wipe away any god’s familial nature. How could it be when they’re the only people you know will be constant in a world full of mortals? Who’ll see you and not be jaded? Zeus wasn’t any different and, frankly, so was Apollo. He knew that he was seeing his brother and not a simple god asking for a simple thing.

And there was guilt somewhere in there.

Because this was the exact same brother he’d sentenced to life in a constant state of darkness after he’d fought by his side to overthrow their own evil father. The one who’d taken the job no one was interested in because it was necessary. Apollo wondered if Zeus ever thought about himself being in Hades’ position: to never see the sun as often as one would like, to deal with souls rather than living, breathing people, to be feared whenever he made his way to the mortal world, or to be isolated from his own flesh and blood on the rare occurrence he went to Olympus.

Yeah. There was definitely some guilt.

“Are you both quite sure of your decision to marry?” Zeus asked with a gruff voice. “I have to remind you that when you do, the vows are irrevocable and effective for as long as you both shall live. Which, I assume you don’t need reminding, is a damn long time.”

No one missed the sideways glance he gave his own sister-wife. Nobody dared react either. Hera merely tipped her chin up, smirking like she was proud of it.

Past the other gods, Hermes met his eyes, like he saw her reaction too and found it odd.

Kath stepped forward, graceful as any god among them. There was no sign of her powers, no sign of the destruction she could exact upon the pavilion and their gathered selves at any given moment.

Kath has no ambition for power, an odd thing for a very powerful goddess...

He supposed he should be glad for that— they should all be glad.

“Both Hades and I are well aware, Lord Zeus.” She nodded once. “We are sure that this is what we want.”

“It may be what he wants,” Ares said, a smirk lining his words. “You’re too young to know anything.”

Those quicksilver eyes immediately turned hard and unyielding as steel when they settled on him. Although no words passed between her ruby lips, the God of War’s face blanched, probably remembering the time Kath plunged a poisoned trident on his back.

Her lips quirked upward into a vicious smirk that faded quickly as she shifted her attention back to Zeus who was regarding her with… Dare he say, worry?

“Are you telling me that you are willing to give up a life that you may have here Above, with all your other friends and family, for one amongst the dead?”

Hades lifted a brow at that one, a crack in the exterior he’d carefully built, but said nothing as the question was not directed at him. On the other side, Aphrodite’s calm was showing the first signs of the webbing fissures Zeus' words had inflicted.

Kath angled her head to the side, like a cat eyeing them all in contemplation. “And why would accepting Hades as my husband hinder any of my relationships?” she asked with quiet curiosity. “I am Goddess of Reflections, Lady of Vision, and the Guide for all those who are lost. Adding ‘Queen of the Underworld’ to the roster of titles does not limit me by any means. Whether living or dead, people need guidance; a hope and vision for the future that they may carry anywhere.”

Zeus persisted, “Don’t you think that your gifts are better suited here Above? With your other skills imbued from us, you could be the protector of the Valley.”

She bowed her head. “I still could be. I know how to travel between domains.”

“And yet once you become Queen of the Underworld, that will cease.”

Everyone turned to Hera. Kath’s eyes narrowed at her for a fraction but the Goddess of Peacocks plowed on. “As of now, you belong to no one. That allows you to flit between the earth, sky, sea, and underworld without cause for war. The only other people authorized to travel as freely are Hermes and Iris—” She gestured to the winged god. “—because of how they serve the Council.”

Hera’s black hair swayed as she leaned back against her throne, smiling. “Marry Hades, and all that is revoked. Well, except your access to the Valley, that is.”

“I won’t.”

Poseidon shrugged as everybody whipped their heads toward him. He pointed his trident at Kath. “I like you, niece, and you present no threat to me or my domain. Amphitrite has taken a liking to you as well and will drown my hide should I prevent you from visiting her.” He cast his tempestuous eyes on Hera. “Honestly, Hades has dealt with enough sh*it from this Council since its establishment. Let us not prolong this unjustified torture any longer.”

Apollo swallowed hard as Zeus sighed. This was what they were waiting for. He felt Kath’s eyes dart towards him. Swirling silver orbs conveyed the panic she could not show. He nodded once, a small tip of his chin that was imperceptible to the others. He didn’t know how else to comfort her, but her shoulders relaxed and that seemed to be enough.

“Wait.”

Aphrodite growled in annoyance, “What is it, Hera?”

The mean smirk was back. “I have news that everyone should hear first before casting their vote. It came all the way from the Oracle of Delphi.” Apollo grew rigid in his seat as those eyes slanted over to him. “Too bad you didn’t think to consult her first, eh?”

With a flick of her wrist, her palm facing upwards, a glowing ball of mist appeared hovering above Hera’s hand. Apollo blanched, knowing full well that it was a prophecy she was carrying.

Zeus leaned forward in his seat, as did Athena to his right.

Hera raised a brow at him. “Would you like to authenticate it first? Perhaps check for signs of tampering?”

He clenched his jaw but floated the orb to him nonetheless. His powers ran over it, poking at its integrity, but mists held and did not budge the way real prophecies from his Oracle did. Wordlessly, he activated the orb, the Oracle’s otherworldly voice echoing through the pavilion.

The end dawns near for Above, Middle, and Below,

temporary peace cradles all in its glow.

For if smoke and mirror should unite,

immortals and mortals shall meet their demise.

Their union will bear new life;

this, doubtless and true.

Annihilation, destruction,

if left with all that was imbued.

The darkness stirs,

Hark, Lady of Night!

Eyes of Three, blinds you thee,

Danger is closer than you could see.

The orb’s glow became muted as the last echoes of the prophecy faded in the wind.

No one moved. Apollo wasn’t sure any of them were breathing.

Then,

“Bullsh*it.”

Hermes’ wings rustled as he stood, his usually joking eyes serious for once as he rounded on the queen perched smirking upon her throne. Behind him, Hades had stepped back and had an arm wrapped protectively around Kath’s shoulders.

“I’ll fly to Delphi right this instant and consult the priestesses. Apollo will come with me and—”

Athena’s slate-gray eyes were on Apollo. “There’s no need for that. Even the God of Prophecy knows this is no trick.”

“BULLSH—”

“Enough!”

Lightning and thunder rolled all around them. Zeus’ jaw ticked as his teeth ground against each other, his hands curled into fists upon his armrest. Sky-blue eyes pierced through him.

“Is this real or a trick?” he asked Apollo, pointing to the orb still in his hand.

He swallowed with great difficulty. “The orb is authentic.”

Zeus and Athena looked at each other. Silence descended upon them like a chokehold none could shake off. For once, Apollo’s mind was running blank. Kath’s eyes were shining with unshed tears but fury simmered underneath the despair. He wanted nothing but to help his friend except he couldn’t think of a single way out.

Or, his conscience whispered evilly, you’re not trying hard enough.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of his thoughts, but it was too late. Guilt had already gotten a foothold.

After what seemed like eons, Athena cleared her throat. She had pity written on her face, for the friends she’d made, her expression wanting to help them. But it wasn’t in Athena’s nature to be unwise.

“You may marry.”

A collective whooshing of breath escaped the Council. Hera turned, outraged at Athena. Hades held Kath tighter.

“On the condition,” the Goddess of Wisdom continued, her voice soft and melancholic, “that Lady Kathréftis relinquishes all her imbued powers.”

Even Hestia began to weep at the indignation of it.