Pale Eyes

by James Welsh

“Kneel before our brother, who is king once more!”

  Hera’s voice rang shrilly through the throne room. All of the gods and goddesses who were assembled quit their eager chatting – they knelt in reverence before the king, holding up their slopping cups of ambrosia as their salute. The room was so still and quiet that it couldn’t be made into one of the moving paintings in the fountains behind them. That water was a painter that demanded motion. Instead, there was a scene of the Olympians overthrowing their Titan parents so many centuries before, an epic scene that played out on all of the fountains of water around them, a glory perfect for that day.

  Zeus took in the sight for a few moments, smiling just barely. His crown sat neatly on his head as it always had. He used to find the crown old and antiquated, but now he found it familiar and comfortable. Zeus supposed much the same could be said for the row of gods before him, all kneeling still. “You may rise,” Zeus commanded, and so they did. They waited for his next words. Ares was the only one drinking, and he was taking large gulps doing so.

  Zeus took a few moments, thinking of what to say next. And then he began:

  “I know that all of you have been anxiously awaiting my return. We have suffered a darkness with Hades’ invasion, something so terrible that I hope the world never sees it again. To make matters worse, this was a tragedy that all of us, including myself, could have avoided. We broke Hades when we banished him to his kingdom in the Underworld, when we took away all of the joys we have here, in this palace atop Mount Olympus. We broke him when we did this, never realizing that he could learn to build himself up again. Even then, we were not fools – we would only be fools if we were to let something like this happen again. But, I doubt that we will. My daughter – who is your sister – or who is your cousin – she has the Underworld fully in her grip now. Hades has been imprisoned, his punishment of humiliation equal to the crime. As long as Athena holds that throne, we will never fear Hades again. I am beginning to understand this now.

  “I know that some of you have doubted Athena before, and that you will continue to do so. You do not trust her, in spite of all that she has done for us, and for myself. I understand why you do this: you find her birth to have been a strange one. That she is a daughter of a Titan can arouse suspicion in any good Olympian. However, the fact that she was born of our enemies is not her fault – that mistake is mine and mine alone. I’m afraid I love too much, or perhaps I love the wrong things. Yet when she was born and I came to understand my daughter, I did not fear her. I was not afraid, even though it was prophesized that she would kill me – yes, those rumors are true. The Fates had told me that my daughter would be my own killer, but I welcomed Athena with open arms. I did this because she was born as much from me as she was from Metis. Hephaestus was the one who broke my skull to find Athena – ask him if you do not believe such a mystery cannot happen. And since Athena was born from me, she is me, just like I am her. I never understood the mother’s bond with her child until that unusual birth. Athena is my sense of the world: her hands are my touch, her eyes are my sight, her ears are my hearing. I did not truly begin to understand this world until she came into my life, and for that I thank her. She may not be here right now –”

  Zeus motioned to the open space, right next to Apollo, where Athena would have stood if she wasn’t watching over the Underworld.

  “But she knows how thankful I am for her. And so, if you still cannot trust her, then you cannot trust me as well. Leave right now if you are one of the doubters.”

  Of course, none of the gods and goddesses dared to move from their spots. Zeus suspected this, because he knew those gods were a jealous and suspicious pack, and he knew this because he too was jealous and suspicious. His eyes narrowed at the rigid gods, because he knew that at least one of them had to be lying. Still, he put aside that paranoia for some other time, and he said:

  “I know that for some of you, your loyalty in this mountain has wavered. I know I have lost my faith from time to time – yes, even a king can lose hope for his kingdom. But Athena is as solid as this mountain. Even though she has spent much of her life on the mortal plains, or now in the Underworld, she has always been here on this summit. Just like she is a part of me, she too is a part of this mountain. Olympus will fall only if she dies with it. And I know she is loyal – only a loyal follower of the faith would do what she has done. If it wasn’t for her, all of this would have been lost – the mortal world would have been overrun with spirits of the dead, and Olympus would be as high as the lowest valley of the Underworld. She has fought back Hades and his horde. As we speak, she is making sure that such an invasion does not happen again. Imagine if this mountain, as sacred and different as it is from any other place in the world, was stormed by the Underworld, where everything is the same profane color of gray and despair? The faith would crumble, and with it the world. That Athena is the divide between all that is sacred and all that is profane, this will be her greatest legacy. I am beginning to understand this now.”

  “But Zeus!” Demeter called out. “She had killed you. How could she be the protector of all that is sacred when she was the one who sent you to the Underworld?”

  “She may have dealt the killing blow, but the only one who sent me to my death was myself,” Zeus said gravely. “It is true that it was my own fault. As a god, I believed too much in my immortality – I feel that we all have, from time to time – and I ignored the history. I always forget how we managed to overthrow our parents – that alone should make us realize that we’re always on the verge of being exiled from our lives, or even from life altogether. But, when I have lived old as long as I am, I find that my memory becomes shorter and shorter over time. My old age is of no use to me, as I always forget my history. I should have been more careful – I should have realized that, even though Athena loved me in spite of the prophecy, she could have still killed me unintentionally, which she did. If I had been walking in the mortal world as a god instead of a bull that fateful day, then Athena wouldn’t have tried to kill me – instead, she would have hugged me and called me father.

  “Yet, even with the prophecy that was handed down, Athena still triumphed. She may have carried out that prophecy, but she did not accept it. No, no – instead she challenged it, every word of it. The more I learn about her story, her short yet amazing reign as Queen of All, the more that I am in awe. She may have killed me, but she was the one who brought me back to life: she went to the Fates and forced them to reveal their secrets, she was the one who braved the dangers of the volcano and found Hephaestus, she was the one who offered to have her head split open so that I could be brought back. And she was the one who grabbed Hades just before he was about to attack me as a snake. If she hadn’t done all of that – if she hadn’t done even one of those things – I would still be at the mercy of Hades and his tortures. I am beginning to understand this now.

  “But, these things that I have spoken of, they are all in the past. Now, we’re confronted by a new world, one with a strange shape that we must understand. First, the obvious: since Athena is now the Queen of the Underworld, all puzzles, all arguments, all dilemmas involving death in any way, it is Athena’s responsibility to oversee these situations. Death is one of her subjects, no matter if it is in her kingdom or not.”

  Zeus stopped, and thought for a moment, then smiled. Curious, the gods and goddesses pressed him to reveal what was so funny.

  “I was just thinking of how strange it is, to have a queen rule over the dead. For so long, we have been used to a King of the Underworld. Now, though, we have a goddess – someone who can give birth, who can create something out of nothing, an entirely new world practically. I find it funny – in a sad way – that a goddess who has the potential for so much life can be resigned to a kingdom of death, where she must strike down the mortals and chain their souls to eternity. That is no life for a goddess who resurrected me back into this world. Yet, i
t is someone like her who is necessary for that kingdom. For far too long the Underworld has suffered at the hands of Hades. We now know that it was his tyranny that drove those souls even further into despair, only to drive them back into this world, all with false promises of something better. Such a monster does not deserve the afterlife as his plaything. Imagine if the mortals learned what terrible gods managed the world after this one? Any decent person would rebel against such careless evil. We need them to believe that we are good, else they will reject us like a bitter fruit. Their happiness brews our ambrosia, their joy is what pushes us onwards. If they see us with contempt, we will vanish. That Athena, a goddess who has lived with the mortals for some time and understands their thrills and fears, now rules the dead – well, we should all be relieved. True, our gratitude for this may make her more powerful, perhaps stronger than you, maybe even stronger than myself. But this is the least that she deserves.”

  As Zeus said this, Ares scoffed a little into his drink. The contempt was soft, but Zeus heard everything.

  “Ares! Do you think you deserve our gratitude?”

  Ares didn’t shrink back from Zeus’ roar, which had filled the chamber. Instead, perhaps emboldened by the drink, Ares protested, “I have done my part – imagine where we would be if I hadn’t lent my support? It would have been a mountain lost, and a mountain crumbled.”

  The other gods and goddesses roared over this. Zeus swept his hand over the crowd, silencing them at command. He stared coldly at Ares for a moment. His hesitation was not so much because Zeus was unsure what to say; Zeus knew every word he would ever say – he was just waiting patiently for the time to say them. No, Zeus stared down Ares because he was waiting, and the wait wasn’t long. Already, Ares was trembling slightly, from the fear of being caught in the open. Ares spoke all of his words with a bite, expecting resistance. But Zeus was silent, the chamber was silent, and all Ares heard were his shouts echoing outside of him, his shouts echoing inside of him. He was understanding that he was being foolish: he was stupid not for thinking his thoughts, but for saying them.

  Finally, Zeus said what Ares hoped he wouldn’t say. The King God said quietly, “Ares, my son, you must understand. Yes, we would have failed without you, but we would have failed without Apollo, and we would have failed without Artemis. We would have failed if any of our pieces were missing. Imagine if we were a statue with her head and her arms and her legs – imagine if someone were to break her arm off and leave her crippled for eternity? Athena is marble – she is strong enough. I saw you gloating over the battlefield, Ares, we all saw you. You raised your hand in triumph, but only because Athena held up your arm. If it wasn’t for her efforts, that battle would have been lost. The battle would have been lost because not every battle can be won with a swing of the sword –“

  When Zeus said this, his eyes flickered on the sword that Ares always kept sheathed by his side.

  “Your sister Athena knew that a sword could not bring down our smoky enemy. If she hadn’t planted that tree, our entire world would have been lost to that smoke. Remember, Ares, a thought is always sharper than a blade – why, the thought has already been cut into the body, before the sword could ever break the skin…”

  It was obvious that Ares wanted to say something, anything, to break his father’s spell over the crowd. He wanted to fight back against those words, he wanted to ask how such powerful gods could be afraid of fighting a wall of smoke, he wanted to know if his family was nothing more than a bloated coward. If they were as immortal as they said they were, then why be afraid of fighting on the battlefield, where a god could fall but never die? What else was there to be afraid of? Ares had so many questions he wanted to ask, but even he knew that it wasn’t the time for questions.

  With Ares quieted at last, Zeus turned his words back to the rest of the crowd once more.

  “But while we have won, we have lost so much. Yes, we may have saved our mountain, and our throne has never stood taller over the world. But our throne is as tall as it is because the rest of the world has fallen so much. The pastures have been turned gray with ash, the lakes taste bitter, and the forests are crackling with fire. But while much of the world has been wasted by the advance of Hades’ army, I only see the springs of renewal. I have to see this, because never before have we depended on so much from our mortal subjects. It is only through their prayer that we gain our strength, and it is only through our strength that their prayers are answered. In a world as devastated as this one, I can see how the mortals could lose hope. But fortunately, it is their nature never to surrender – instead, they will always ask for help. And we will help them, like we always must. But until they give up their humility, until they remember that they are very mortal still, we must be weakened. It is to be expected, I suppose, for us to be weak while the rest of the world remains off-balance. It is also to be expected that when the world rises, so we will as well. We will rise as one because we all are one.”

  With that said, Zeus coughed and wearily sat down, his true age beginning to show through his godly veneer. Most of the other gods, still crowded about on the floor beneath the throne, they raised their cups of ambrosia as a salute to their king. They, too, were beginning to look a bit old and wrinkled. They drank their thick ambrosia quicker than they were used to, but even the magical liquid wasn’t enough. The edges of their eyes began to splinter in the tiniest of wrinkles, and every step took a few more breaths from them than it should. They were feeling old, and the timelessness wouldn’t oil their veins again until the fallen world had righted itself, which it would in time – just not as quick as the gods could hope for.

  Among the gods who said their loyalties the loudest, there were Hebe and the twins Apollo and Artemis. Hebe was always the perfect servant, only making herself known when another god needed her, and this was no exception. Athena had done so much for her and had only asked for Hebe’s support in return, which the servant goddess now gladly gave. And Apollo and Artemis, while the twins may have distrusted and even hated Athena at first, they began to see the new Queen of the Underworld with respect. They had fought alongside Athena on the battlefield, and as much as war takes away life, it patches the holes with loyalty. And, of course, there was still the clenched handful of gods who still saw Athena with suspicion – they hated the need to be thankful, especially when that thanks was for an outsider like Athena, a goddess who lived with the mortals. They couldn’t understand the paradox: that a goddess who lived beneath them could somehow rise above them. And since these gods could not understand this, they reasoned that there was something more dangerous happening, something that they couldn’t quite understand but would regret if they ever had.

  But of all of the gods standing in the chamber, none were as cold as Ares, who shook with fury. As the god of war, he had always craved the gift of death. Maybe he loved death because it was among the harshest punishments he could give on the battlefield. Maybe he loved death because he could never feel it, as immortal and everlasting as he was. But once more, the kingdom of the dead belonged to someone who wasn’t him. And, as long as Ares did not hold that throne, he never felt whole. Because, while he could certainly help a favored army win in a battle and live on in poetry, he could never make the other side lose and be forgotten in death. Only the Monarch of the Dead could give such losses, and the fact that it was Athena’s privilege now made Ares angrier than ever.

  Yet, for all that Ares hated his sister Athena, ideas began slowly flooding his mind, ways of getting revenge for all of the insults that Athena had brought upon him. A good strategy was Athena’s legacy, and Ares was beginning to think of a few good schemes of his own.

  Book 23