Life On Olympus

The Arrival

A gleaming pathway wined up the mountainside. Cyprus trees of golden-tipped leaves swayed in the calmed and tamed winds of the high peak. As his golden encrusted robes dragged behind his bronze feet, he kept steady along the path. The last inches of the road gave way to a great gate. Swirls of gold reflected passionately from the rays of Helios. As he inched closer and closer to the gate, the mighty doors opened, as if they’d known a resident of the palaces they guarded stood before them. They opened to a scene of a springing fountain adorned in fine flowers, depictions of the mighty inhabitants of the shining mountain placed in it and flowing waterfalls and spilled from the tip of the carved wonder. Great columns stood proudly along the road’s edges. He looked around and knew this awe of a scene was his home.

Chalice in hand, he made his way past the fountain, continuing to a street wrapped in fabulous gardens. Sweet smells of freshly grown flowers fragranced the air. The subtle sounds of gracefully flowing springs completed a whimsical stroll to a grand staircase. A great facade of ivory glistened royally, the light sitting on his face as he looked up to its roof, a majestic scene of an ancient conquest sat on its trim. He slowed his steps to continue his gaze of wonder. The gentlest of breezes caressed his face, enticingly pulling his robes and coils of his black hair in different directions. The scene’s great presence intimidated him, yet ignited excitement and anxiousness in his stomach. He could do nothing but continue to look up, his wandering eyes taking everything in at one time yet processing slowly the sights before him.

He began to reflect upon his time here. He travelled to cities and kingdoms all over the world and only thought those would be the greatest of places he’d ever see. This place was only a figment of divine poetry, a setting that only the oracles and storytellers recounted of. He remembered lifting up his hands in his youth in vast temple walls, beseeching the gods that inhabited the world to come down and cast blessing unto him. He only knew of this place as the pinnacle of which the lords and ladies of the world looked down on the mortal lands and shined their light. The thoughts overwhelmed the man. He took long breaths and he turned slowly up in the sky, further and further basking in the great light that shone down on him. As his head turned slowly downward to view again the well established structures before him, it's great iron doors swiveled outward revealing the silhouette of a fine-figured woman. She jetted forth as the light revealed her golden breastplate and silk skirts. She let out a strong yet feminine chuckle while walking confidently out from the great building.

“Dionysus! Welcome to Olympus!” She firmly exclaimed, her perfectly toned arms stretched out to welcome the young one.

“Your divineness”, Dionysus gleefully replied, holding his robes for a graceful curtsy.

“I am only Athena to you. Call me as such,” Athena assured in his ear, squeezing his hand with a fraction of her strength. A welp let from the young man’s mouth, followed by a refreshing gulp of air as her hand released his. She then placed her hand on Dionysus' shoulder and stared directly into his eyes.

“Are you ready to officiate your seat amongst us?” She asked, grinning contentedly.

“Am I ready to officia-of course I’m ready to officiate. I’m ready to officiate my place here and then officiate everyone with a fresh chalice and a night of madness!” The pair chuckled and Athena quickly agreed. They walked among the gardens bantering back and forth, bursting laughter coming from Athena as the wine god shot her with wit and quick puns. The two laughed almost continuously for the better of the evening before they began conversation of Dionysus’ travels.

“So I understand you’ve been to nearly every city in Greece?” Athena began, still containing herself from the previous conversation.

“I have, and I have enjoyed every breathing second of it,” Dionysus confirmed.

“I’ve watched the festivities when I could and all of the dancing and cheering has been invigorating to watch,” Athena continued, Dionysus taking proud sips from his jeweled chalice, “It continues to fascinate me how you simply lift the souls of all you encounter.”

“Well, goddess. It’s no easy feat, but a small sip of wine can calm and intensify any spirit.” He swirled the glass toward Athena’s face, it’s alluring smell directing the king’s eyesight towards the red drink. His nose flared slightly to take in more of the sweet scent.

“Most intriguing.” She expressed, her eyes locked onto the top of Dionysus’ chalice, “It’s not as if I hadn’t tried it before.”

“”How is that? I’ve never seen you attend any of my sermons or teachings.”

“A god never reveals her endeavors, novice.” Athena chuckled royally. They continued to stroll along the gardens, traversing the pathways of statues and gold columns until they arrived down a winding path. A swirling and twisting way of stairs draped in wines gave way to a stately villa cornered near a vineyard. It wasn’t quite at the altitude of Olmypus’ peak, but it starred a brilliant vista of the Grecian countryside, great cities perched on top of hills, noble structures and temples and luxuriant groves.

After a moment of marveling at his new scenery, Dionysus would make his way behind Athena in front of a great vined gate. The hanging ivy parted as it was approached, revealing the villa’s vast and lush courtyard. Dionysus gazed in awe at the height and regality of the large architecture.

“And here is your new home. I hope it is to your liking.” Athena smiled. Dionysus slowly nodded as he continued walking in circles taking in the breathtaking scenery. Athena motioned him toward the villa’s entrance, where laurel-crowned servants waited with golden decorated trays of fresh fruits and bread. They bowed to the grey-eyed goddess as she modestly acknowledged them. Dionysus trailed behind her, taking a vine of grapes from one of the servants’ trays. He thanked her as he tossed one into his mouth and sipped from his chalice.

She showed him to his many rooms, each filled with seating crafted from the finest material, grand statues of him in many proud poses, vases with etchings depicting his travels throughout the world, rugs and mats sewn with the likes of the other Olympians. What Dionysus seemed to be most fascinated about was how his home was brought into the great villa. He noticed the oak trees draped from the gardens outside into the home as canopies and natural decoration.

“I’m speechless, Athena,” Dionysus said as they rejoined in the grand entryway.

“I’ll leave you to get settled. My brothers and sisters would love to see you when you are ready. They’ll be all about Olympus if you wish.’

Athena lept from the entryway with a gush of wind. Transforming into an armored owl, she soared back to the peaks of Olympus. The servants posted themselves back into the entry, peering directly in front of them to await their next orders. Dionysus relaxed himself onto a plump couch. A sigh of relief oozed from him as he sank more and more into a sulking state of bliss and tranquility.

“Would you need anything else, my lord?” A servant asked, slightly startling Dionysus. He stared at the pair as their eyes locked onto his, awaiting for a response.

“That would be all, thank you.” He replied.

“Yes, my lord. We will withdraw from your presence. Please chime us at any time you are in need of assistance.” The two servants bowed obediently before swiftly exiting the room. Dionysus was left to himself. For many years he had not yet enjoyed the fruits of his status as a true god. He continued to waste into serenity on his patted couch, picking grapes off his vine and tossing them into his mouth. His chalice was sure to be on hand for him to continue to drink. He closed his eyes and felt his body loosen. It was an orgasmic reaction to the ultimate luxury. I can get used to this, he thought to himself.

After hours of staying still, he finally rose from the couch and made his way through several corridors to his quarters. He removed his soft purple robes and found a linen robe. He slipped into these robes and fascened it with a white belt, wrapping it around his waist and tying it on his hop. He shook the skirts so the slip of the robe can expose his legs and hung the train behind him. He returned to the couch, picked up his empty chalice and waved his hand around its rim to refill it. He stepped from the villa and made his way into the roads of Olympus.

He crossed the vast gardens and began to stroll the grounds. He looked up and saw pearled clouds being sliced by the patting wings of majestic birds.He felt the wind rush past as one swooped in front of him and screeched up to the heavens. Winged horses grazed the fields of the magnificent palaces, others flying in and out of the skies landing ever so gracefully on the soft grass. Dionysus looked up to watch the beautiful creatures dance across the sky. They looped and twisted around the carrying winds, soaring freely above the peaks of the mountain. It was a miracle to see. These creatures were nothing but figments of old stories told around a fire to Dionysus. To see them up close, to watch them fly above his face, was a true and godly sight for the newly arrived Olympian. He took slow steps as he awed at the scene above him.

In the distance, on a small plateau, he saw two figures, one covered in a blue aura and the other in a golden, aiming bows and arrows into the skies. The lit arrows shot up with a torching blaze, rushing past the clouds above. The pair was visibly taunting each other until one bow struck the ground in front of Dionysus. He jumped back, panicked by the fiery impact, though his chalice never once spilled any drink. The two perched on the hill laughed vigorously until the last bow struck a tree near Dionysus. He sharply turned to see the once beautiful and innocent Cyprus tree obliterated into a blue fiery hazard. The blue-aura figure let out a “Victory!” with a fist in the air. Dionysus sped walked past them, grabbing his robes and gulping a drink from his Chalice.

He made his way around the bends of the pavilions and the grounds of the palaces to begin the climb to the peak’s complex. He climbed the golden staircases to explore the grounds he began. The same iron doors laid open, a sign no one has walked by or occupied the grandiose building since his greeting with Athena. He peered into the prime archway to see an empty throne room, naturally lit from the peering sunlight that gave way to two monumental thrones. He then walked around the facade’s perimeter where networks of column-lined corridors lay. He continued on through the arched walkways where even more grand structures laid, lined in more ivory and gold. Drapes of every color softly flown in the breeze from a dome-topped villa, drawing Dionysus to it. He turned a few corners to follow the path until he reached its arches. He entered to see young girls in a glowing soft pink light giggling and galanting around a great open courtyard.

“Goddess, we have a visitor!” One of them exclaimed, frolicking to the other side of the courtyard. The other two sat and whispered to each other, giggling as they mischievously side-eyed the wine god. He stepped further and further into the room, taking another sip of his chalice as he looked around. One of the girls waved at him. He chuckled and waved back slowly. The first girl stepped from the back.

“Dionysus,” she gleefully said, “the goddess, Aphrodite, awaits.” She motioned him past the courtyard into a dimly lit chamber. Past the ivy-wrapped columns boasted a silk throne adorned in incense. The smoke spiraled around the room, enthralling Dionysus to step further and further. A fine-figured woman laid gracefully on the throne, the young girl leading him closer to her,

“So you’re the one they call Dionysus.” Aphrodite began, marveling herself in a jewel-encrusted mirror.

“I am, and you’re the one they call Aphrodite?” Dionysus rebutted, swishing his chalice with his nose mockingly pushed in the air.

“I’ve never had a feminine god before.” She plumped her lips, turning to her side to show off her curvy hips.

“I’ve never had a goddess before-” Dionysus chuckled. Aphrodite stepped out of her throne and seductively strutted to him, she removed her robes to reveal a thin garment, bearing all the reasons of her worship among men, “and I intend not to, lovey,” he continued. She rolled her eyes and snickered.

“I’ve too many men to be displeased about you,” She flicked her long curls and motioned past him, “Aglaea, grab my chiton. I am going to the baths.” She left the room in stride, never turning her back as the young girl swiftly pranced across the room to grab Aphrodite’s chiton. The three girls whisked away to catch up with the goddess. Their giggles echoed down the hallway. Dionysus scoffed and took another sip of his chalice. He was unphased by the lady’s words yet unquenchably pleased by her arrogance. This is how I knew Olympians acted, and with her, I’m appealed by it, he thought to himself.

He walked around the room and glimpsed the courtyard. His rejective attitude was quickly sliced by an overtaking feeling of charm. He felt a presence loom over him as he continued looking around at the many items in the room. As if bewitched by the strongest of magic, visions of the goddess’ long coiled hair whooshing past his face, her aromatic fragrance of honey, flowers, her seductive and alluring presence. It was all too much for him to pass. His thoughts took the best of him as he followed the faint sound of the young giggles down the many hallways. He ran as fast as he could past rooms and hallways, frantically following the sound like a sailor vivaciously steering his vessel to capture more of a siren’s voice. He stepped to a corner and finally saw the bottom of the goddess’ skirts being drugged into an archway. He jogged in her direction and abruptly stopped. He shrieked her name in a nervous voice crack. She smirked and stopped, motioning her young attendants behind her. She jutted out her hip and gracefully placed her hand on it.

“You called?” She tittered. Dionysus froze and stuttered clumsily. Her ocean eyes and full lips immediately grabbed his attention. His eyes moved to the plumpness of her lips, the flowing waterfalls of her hair, the golden of her skin, the roundness of her breasts, the figure of her hips, the fineness in her legs, the softness appeal of her hands. An erotic sensation had him stuck in a tense position as his eyes continued to take in the awe that was the incarnation and essence of all the beauty that could exist in the world.

“I-I was wondering where you were heading.” Dionysus uttered, his eyes continuing to wander over her.

An explosion of laughter lept from one of the girls and onto the others, including Aphrodite. The girls bent over, leaned on each other, basking in the moment of another god smitten over beauty itself.

“Just look at how nerve-racked he is!” One of the girls belched, pointing at Dionysus’ face. Another girl began imitating his stuttering to her, and the last his running motions as he made his way to her. Dionysus turned red, but the one girl’s contagious laughter swayed even him from embarrassment. He began laughing with them, agreeing gleefully of his awkward encounter with them.

“You’re an absolute charm,” Aphrodite winked, “Girls! We’ve had our fun. Let’s not completely humiliate the young man. Come with us, we’re just on our way to the baths.” The goddess motioned her head toward the direction of the bath, and Dionysus swiftly obliged. As they walked, he felt as if the presence that weighed over him had been lifted. He batted his eyes and held his head. He caught a slight headache that went away as he rubbed his temples. Aphrodite grinned innocently, asking if he was alright and needed to lie down. Dionysus smacked his teeth as the girls chuckled.

The archways they walked through flowed into a great bath chamber. There was a pool of giant size with glistening blue water with steam rising from its surface. Beautiful blue, purple and gold flowers draped the columns and ceilings with magnificent paintings splattered on the walls. There was a pair already inside the bath, bickering and blabbering about whatever it was to make them bicker and blabber.

“I have the best shot and you know it, and today proves it!” The woman yelled.

“You can spring an arrow into a tree, but can you shower arrows unto moving mortals? I think not!” The man rebutted, crossing his arms aggressively.

“In the same way you can land an arrow on stiff and stone land I can aim at any walking mortal any day!”

“The wind got the best of my arrows!”

“Oh now you’re blaming this on the wind? Who, dear brother? Was Boreas walking by when you shot it up? Was Zephyrus dancing around the sky when you released the thing!”

“What are you two going on about this time?” Aphrodite annoyingly asked, breaking up the argument and removing her bracelets.

“I just want Apollo to say, ‘Artemis is the greatest shot on Olympus far none’”

“The day I say that is the day I join the lost souls in Tartarus”

“Well why don’t I write a letter to Had-”

“Alright!” Aphrodite exclaimed, breaking up the argument again, “I would not like to hear about this same issue again. Apollo, just tell Artemis your aim is the worst and let it be over.” Apollo scoffed. Angrily, he got up from the bath and wrapped himself in his robes. He stomped out of the room as the rest of them laughed.

“Now that I think of it, he did land a fire-tipped arrow right in front of me as I was walking by.” Dionysus said, removing his robes and entering the bath.

“That WAS you!” Artemis bursted, “So you can also attest to his horrid aim,” They laughed again, “So, how does it feel to be on Olympus, Dionysus?” He began to reply of his pleased impression with his new home, but he quickly stopped and turned his head to the side perplexed, “Oh, I know your sister, Nysa. She is a loyal follower of mine and I visited her frequently along with my sacred doe she watched over. That’s how I knew of you!”

Dionysus was amazed in the moment. He’d always known his sister devoutly followed Artemis, but he never knew they had such a close relationship, let alone that the goddess would be moved to know of him before his status. He was instantly humbled by the warmth in her heart. She expressed her eagerness and excitement to have a new Olympian join the ranks and that his place here would be etched in legend. They began discussing his origins and his upbringing along the mountainsides. He gloated about the parties he’d hosted, eventually loosening his guard and letting a few vulgar jokes in his repertoire slip off the tongue. The group was amused, enthralled in every word of his stories of conquest by festivity. He detailed the lively appearances to great cities, the midnight hours of sexual freedoms and exploration. He spoke about his winemaking and his tours of teaching mortalkind the fine and intricate crafting of a fine wine. As he went on and on and on about his journeys, he then began to explain how the strange occurrences of near-death would happen. Columns would randomly fall with intention to land on top of him, or avalanches would shake the mountains on otherwise serene and calm days. Artemis and Aphrodite looked at each other, wide-eyed and long breathed. Just as Dionysus would bring his story to conclusion, another stepped into the bath chamber.

“Athena, darling, come in, the water is nice and lovely.” Aphrodite started, gracefully motioning her to the water. Athena removed her helmet and breastplate and handed it to a young servant boy, who bowed to her as he swiftly departed the room. Athena’s grey eyes locked onto the group as she lifted the ends of her skirts to join them in the water.

“What is this I hear of avalanches?” Athena asked, soaking herself in the water.

“Dionysus was just telling us of the ‘experiences’ he was having while on his travels.”

“The many times Thanatos was yearning for me to walk with him hand in hand to the palace of Hades. He sent for me so much I wouldn’t be mistaken to say he’d want to be my lover!” The group bursted into amusement. Dionysus continued to explain other instances of these phenomena happening. He told of a time a furious nest of hornets suddenly chased him as he was teaching winemaking to a group of travellers and how a torch far beyond an encampment set up for his nightly travels caught onto their wooded huts while they were asleep, encapsulating his caravan into flame, barely escaping with his life. Athena took a deep breath and shook her head.

“You say you were in the city of Carthage when the column nearly fell on you?” she asked. Dionysus agreed, “and in Argos where the statue rolled to crush you?” Dionysus agreed, “and in Mycenae when the great lion chased you? And Sparta when the hornets came for you?” Dionysus agreed. Athena slowly shook her head and chuckled to herself. She gathered herself from the bath and rang out her robes. Artemis sighed and relaxed deeper into the path.

“Good luck, new one.” Artemis said. Dionysus asked her what she meant and she could only laugh, “You’ll find out soon enough.” She added.

He gathered himself from the pool, grabbing his chalice and shaking his clothes dry. He found it odd that the goddesses were not forthcoming about something they’d clearly known the answer to. Then again, as it dawned on him, the gods were never quite straightforward with their mortal worshippers, providing riddled prophecies and inconspicuous pursuits. Still, Dionysus began to get worried. He had not been on Olympus for an entire day and already there is an ominous target on his back visible to all but him. Still, he strutted confidently to his quarters and removed his wet clothes. He turned around to find the two servants previously standing behind him. One held a white satin cloak and the other a golden tray of fruits.

“Nyx has brought forth the night and Selene has made her ascendence to the skies. Would you like to prepare for slumber, Lord Dionysus?” He stared at the girls as they stared back at him. He hadn’t yet gotten used to their amazingly accurate appearance.

“Yes, darlings, thank you very much.” The attendants placed the cloak on him and fed him the fruit. It was so great and juicy that he dipped his own hands in the bowl and continued to feast. After recouping from his pigging out and taking a few more sips from his chalice, he sharply dismissed the attendants. They vanished the second the words escaped his god’s lips, and Dionysus laid on his bed.

His thoughts began to cloud him again. He turned to his other side to look out to the open windows. The dark configurations of the columns was a beautiful depiction of the night skies. His wheels began to turn again and his memories enveloped him, of home, his sisters, his father. His ascension to godhood was a role he had not quite reconciled. He thought of his tours on the road and the many parties he hosted across the land. His memories turned to the people he met, the lives he touched in his tours across the land. He turned over to regain his chalice. Yes, so many people he taught. He danced and laughed and partied with so many creatures of all walks of life. He thought of the women who swore their allegiance, their lives to his worship, to ensure his forward mobility as their patron to represent and uplift them on Olympus. He took a gulp from his chalice.

His mind made a sharp turn to the previous moments at the baths. He knew the three goddesses knew something of the attacks that he spoke of. He’d known Olympians cast down fire and horror on those they found displeasing, but he had been an avid and faithful servant to Olympus since his youth. He began racing on any infraction he committed in life that would drive a divine force to come down on him, what deed he did against the gods that would denote the need for punishment. He took another gulp from his chalice.

His clouded mind forced him to drink even more. He continued gulping and sipping and drinking from his chalice, running out and refilling with the wave of his hand. His single gulps turned into full swallows of the entire cup until his sight fell hazy and his mind numbed. He couldn’t feel his body, he couldn’t move a finger, steadily falling into a euphoria of a blank mind. The world and his surroundings faded more and more, sounds began to feign in the distance until there was only silence. His sight was filled with nothingness.

A vision was borne out of the oblivion. He saw his father and sisters who are still left in the forests of Nysa. He saw visions of his sisters being touched by a dark hand. They were chased by the bitter cold of an approaching force. He heard them scream as they ran across the forests. Some shifted into their oakwood tree forms as defense against the ominous shadow, but the screams and panic of the other sisters only warranted them to run faster. The splitting shrieks of the sisters bellowed into the darkened skies as the twisting and swirling storms of the darkness caught up to them more and more, inching closer and closer to them, barely reaching the ends of their wild hair, nipping at their ankles. The sisters, three of them remaining, made haste into a large carved home. They tried to throw things to barricade the force behind them before throwing themselves on the ground. The shadow transformed itself into a vague dark figure. Its cloak swallowed the sisters who were balled onto the ground, frightened by the horrific scene in front of them. The last sister reached out her hand to another just in front of her. Her fingers barely touched the cane it held before being sucked into the eternal blackness of the figure’s cloak.

The shadow turned slightly to the figure holding a cane. It was a horned man with a green toga. His oak cane supported him as he slowly stepped forward in front of the dark one’s presence. It looked down on him as his glimmering eyes locked onto theirs. He tapped his cane on the ground which shook the room immensely. Dust rose from the ground, and the rising air lifted the shadow’s cloak and dropped the girls it captured before. They were knocked out and laid dormant on the floor. The horned man ruggedly kneeled down to them, putting his hand on their foreheads and caressing their faces. He gave kisses to each of them and rose up again. A faint laughter of a woman was heard in the distance as the figure projected itself higher and bigger. The horned man regained his sturdy posture and showed himself to it. It removed its cloak and revealed a darkened crown. A jewel of green hue lit the room as it was shown in its full glory. A bursting laughter vibrated the walls and floor. It lifted its hand in the air as black energies collected inside of it, an immense storm sprouting from the cloudy matter that wrought from the air. The figure, galvanized by its newly sprung power, let out an echoing laugh. The horned man stood unmoved, unphased by the powerful and intimidating acts that took place before him. The figure cocked its hand back, fully ready to unleash the darkest of power onto the man in front of it. The man held his head high and dropped his cane. He balled up his fists and puffed out his chest as proud as a Spartan soldier preparing for a reception of victory. The cloaked shadow jutted its hand forward in his direction, releasing a shockwave of energy. Lightning and black smoke propelled at great speed toward the man. He remained as unshook as a great stone. The waves of energy truck him greatly. He raised his arms in an attempt to withstand it, but the crushing force of the storm quickly became too much to bear. The man shrieked in pain as he forced all of his remaining strength to best the impact. As he knew the battle came to a close as the fight within him dwindled to emptiness, the man said in a whisper, My son. My Dionysus.

A flash of light lit the room before Dionysus screamed out at the man’s demise. He thrusted up and looked around to see the shadows, the man, his sisters and the scene vanished. His eyes focused on the furnishing of his quarters. He was chilled from the breeze of the morning air yet comforted from the rays of Helios’ morning shine. He looked to either of his sides to find himself on the floor on the other side of his room. He looked up to see the legs of his attendance picking up things off of his floor. One was collecting shattered pieces of a vase while the other picked up pillows and made his bed.

“Was everything okay last night, Lord Dionysus?” One said. He hesitated for a while, still scoping the room and gathering his thoughts on what might have occurred.

“I-I think I am,” Dionysus started, “by Zeus, what was I up to last night?”

“I am unsure, my Lord,” the other attendant responded, “the others are outside on the main balcony enjoying breakfast. Shall we see to it your attendance?”

He kept himself on the floor until he fully realized his state. He took a deep breath and picked up his robes. One attendant, after making his bed, picked up his chalice to present it to him. She curtsied before joining the other attendant to his drawn bath. Dionysus slipped himself out of his dirty clothes to bathe in a sweet mix of roses and daisies. The attendants poured water on his hair and massaged his shoulders. An originally turned into a well relaxed and soothed pampered god. After a long and well deserved bath, the attendants met him with an assortment of jewelry and his outfit for the morning; a light purple himaton clasped in a golden sash. He decorated his fingers with two diamond rings and a vine-encrusted bracelet of gold and silver. Before leaving, he grabbed from his vanity a wreath crown of laurel, pine and wildflowers.

“Adds a touch of grace to a muling drunk like me, eh?” He chuckled. The attendants smiled and bowed in agreeance before leading him out of the palace. One of the young girls handed him his empty chalice for Dionysus to fill, completing his ensemble and the start of his morning.