THE SONGS OF THE LOST SAINTS OF OLYMPUS ADORNED THE AIR, SERENADING THE IMMORTAL BODIES OF GODS RECLINING ON THEIR ALABASTER THRONES.

"What has you so tensed today, father?"

A lunar crescent shone on the heavenly brow of Artemis, setting her hazel eyes alight with interest as she asked me her question.

"Everything, Artemis."

"Try me, Storm King," she whispered with a gleam of intelligence in her wise gaze.

"Politics are a tedious business, daughter. And gods... gods are worse. They fall at the feet of my damned throne and complain all day long. I sit here listening to their blasted demands. Demands and more demands. Always wanting this and that."

The clever huntress sharpened her bronze arrows as she intently listened, placing her chin on her sharp knees.

"Have you called a council of the twelve? Perhaps they could help ease your unrest."

"My seas are more uneasy than your skies, yet here I stand at your call, Zeus!" boomed a voice from the eternally tall doorway.

In strode a procession of gods, accompanying the loud voice like sun-dried figs and red wine. Immortal voices screamed my name in both battle and song, lightening storms and hurricane pain walking hand in hand. A volley of gods flew over the floors, settling themselves on their thrones.

"Aye brother, did you summon us?" asked the man sitting from the throne nearest to mine.

Dazzlingly blue eyes glared into the depths of mine, but they sang of salt and sea whereas mine rang of thunder and clouds. Poseidon raised his mighty fist to catch my attention, for it was he who had spoken.

"I did call a council."

Annually did the imperial council of gods convene. The circle of twelve Olympians was holy and sacred, called to summons whenever I, their King, required a word of advice.

Twelve of us we were.

And together, we ruled Olympus as one, my brothers and sisters and our children, all under my jurisdiction.

Hestia, goddess of the hearth. Hermes, the messenger. Aphrodite, with her roses and doves. Ares, the war lord. Demeter with her stalks of wheat. Hephaestus and his crippled limbs. Hera, deity of family. Poseidon with his mighty sea trident. Athena, bearing her owl and heavenly helm. Artemis, with her sharp arrows. Apollo singing to his golden harp. And I, with the thunderbolt in my fists.

Hades had never been a part of us.

He was not one of the Olympians. Oft had many persuaded him to take a seat. I can almost smell your pretence, brother, he'd throw back his head and laugh, spare me your false promises. He was a little bit too terrifying for the other Olympians in his real form, the mere of shadow of him sending man and god's blood to run cold. Where's the fun in ruling the dead if you can't terrify people a little bit? he'd smirk.

"What is this... matter that couldn't wait till the next council, Zeus?" Poseidon asked.

"Aphrodite and Hades."

"What has my dear wife been up to again?" Hephaestus demanded with a blaze to his raw tone. He looked around and turned back. "She isn't here yet, anyways. If she wrecking mayhem again with her antics?"

"I'm afraid so," I replied. "Her perversions are as temperamental as breeze. She takes a sudden interest in that bastard, Hermes - who tried to lay his hands on my daughter! Aphrodite now begs me to wed my little flower off so that Hermes no longer fawns over her and goes back to the goddess of love like the lovesick puppy he is."

"Well then, good luck finding a man who can keep his hands off your daughter's ripe flesh, brother. If he... defiles her purity, her mother, Demeter, will take his life," Poseidon muttered away. A strand of his heavenly hair curled around his thin fingers as his brow crinkled.

"You could ask the Lord of the Underworld," Hephaestus suggested in shrewdness. "The rest of the council hasn't arrived yet. Make a trip to his... deadly realm and ask him to wed your little flower."

"If only it were that easy," I sighed. "The man has no interest in marriage."

"He is ripped edges and cracked glass, father. The Lord of the Underworld prefers his ichor stained halls and blood painted windows to the fair beauties of Olympus. As lovely as your maiden is, she holds no appeal to that ice cold heart of his," Artemis spoke up with determination in the set of her eyes.

Fanfares and trumpets rang louder in the corridors, rich and jubilant and titillating, like peach springs and apricot trees in summer, overlapping with the sounds of more footsteps.

"It must be the rest of the council, brother. They are here," Poseidon warily muttered, as the other gods too came in, graceful in the divine beauty and silk painted robes. They smiled and laughed and drank, all of them present, save Demeter and Aphrodite.

"Women," Hephaestus scoffed. "Never on time."

Suddenly, the sounds of celebration stopped and everyone paused their activities to look towards the sturdy gates.

An all too familiar, dark mist hovered a few feet in the air.

Slowly, it melted away like butter into the lights of the chandeliers, and the air around it condensed silently into the shape of a lean man.

Not just any man.

For the first time in eternity, the god of death himself had stepped into the council of Olympus.