“What is the meaning of this?” Zeus’s voice thundered.
“Husband dear, it appears we have a supplicant.” Hera sat on her peacock-hued throne.
“This one burst through the gates, Father,” Artemis intervened.
“We have already refused two fools this morning. Have you come to goad us? Or do you long for death?” Ares raised his spear.
“I shall warn you; such folly could bring dire consequences upon you, boy,” Zeus continued.
“I know him,” Nemesis laughed, “He was once in my thrall.”
“As in mine.” Aphrodite giggled. “Oh, the lovelorn, they make such mythical stories.”
Calliope smiled. “What is this book that you clutch, child?”
“Irrelevant! Are you under the misconception that we have time to dispense?” Zeus rose from his throne.
“Father,” Athena interrupted. “It is my ancient belief that it would take either the wisest or the most stupid to shoulder their way into Olympus. I have made his acquaintance before, I say we hear him.”
Zeus’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Which one are you, boy?” He took a step forward. “Speak.”