Dinner

Whiskey tango foxtrot. Would you look at the seating chart my brother just handed me? It was a nightmare worthy of Phobetor and Phantasos. I swatted him with it then told him he could seat the ladies. That should fix his little red chariot but good. “And tell Aphrodite to dress for dinner. I won’t have her at my table in cut offs and a tube top.” I noticed Hermes glancing at the chart. “Any table.” If there’s a loophole, he’ll find it. If there isn’t, he’ll make one.

I told Hecate about his mischief with the chart so she could assist with the main problem. No, seating Scylla and Charybdis wasn’t it. Not Hypnos, nor Nyx. Look again. An awful lot of people don’t have seats—like Medea. And Achilles. Have you ever been in the room with Medea when she feels slighted? Thank god Helios was on Olympus; he never shuts up about that stupid yellow sheep and what a betrayal, blah blah blah; meanwhile, I’m trying to keep her away from Calypso—last thing we need is the two of them cooking up ideas together. Talk about a trailer park meth lab.

What would I do without Hecate?

By the time everyone tumbled into the great hall, I had finished a pomegranate martini with a cannabis flower garnish, and I was feeling much better about my speech, and the nymphs and furies were right where I could see them but didn’t have to hear them. Time for my speech.

“Welcome. I know what you've heard about me and what life down here is like. As you can see, it's a pack of lies authored by Zeus to make you think Olympus is the best place in the world. Don't worry about the nonsense about being stuck here forever if you eat anything--I tried it, but I'm still forced into the overworld for half of every year. Enjoy the divine underworld as you will, but stay out of the mortal realms. I don't have many rules, but the rules I do have are full stop. I set no arbitrary rules down here; therefore, rebellion is . . . dissuaded. Perhaps I'll put the rules on stone tablets like Moses did and call them commandments. Now, let's not worry ourselves with that tonight, for tonight, we celebrate our divinity.”

Athena gave me a small nod of approval before draining her glass. Hmmm, unwise. But when did Athena ever get to let her hair down? I shrugged and motioned for her glass to be refilled. I surveyed the room and noticed Ares and Prometheus arm wrestling while Apollo sidled over to Aphrodite’s table. Dionysus noticed, too and was suddenly at Aphrodite’s elbow, whispering sweet nothings into her ear while pouring wine for her. Hephaestus did not appear amused, but he was barking up the wrong tree—trying to flirt with Artemis to make his wife jealous. Yes, Artemis. Like that’s ever going to happen. Daphne will put out before Artemis would even think about considering it. She’s probably jealous of Medusa’s hair.

"Rebellion is dissuaded? That's an interesting way to say that revolutionaries are cast into the deepest pits of Tartarus and forgotten." Uh-oh, Hermes was already slurring, and we hadn't even finished the first course (rosemary sourdough crackers with pomegranate seeds and white stilton). I elbowed Athena, who promptly rose from my table to "ask Aphrodite where she got that gown." Hecate refilled my glass.

The nymphs in attendance (Can you imagine all of them in one room? Yeah, not happening here) were misbehaving, as usual, but with Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone right there at the table with them to keep them in check, I wasn't worried. Alecto could even bring my husband and my father to heel. The majority of Circe's half-sisters and cousins didn't have her cunning, couldn't make a potion to save their immortal lives, much less face off against any of the furies. And now Calypso, Medea, and Magaera are conspiring in a corner together. If I didn't do something soon, all hell was going to break loose in my great hall, and the last thing I needed was jealous Tartarus guards. Ooh, I had an idea. Where was Stentor?

Smoothing up to Euterpe and Erato, surprise, surprise. I rose from my seat and swept over to them, my ivory gown swishing deliciously behind me as I prowled over. Shushing him first, I pulled Stentor to the side and whispered my idea to him. He grinned so wide I thought his face would crack.

Taking Athena's vacant seat, Stentor tapped Athena's fork against her empty goblet and caught everyone's attention. "Our queen requests your attention." His voice rang out, probably all the way through Asphodel into Elysium.

I rose when the chatter subsided. "Dear family, I'm afraid some of you may get bored down here due to the lack of chores and duties you're accustomed to up there, so I think we should have a contest."

Aphrodite rose from her giggling with Athena. "We can't let a mortal be the judge. Bad things happen when we put mortals in charge of our fate."

Athena burst into a fresh fit of laughter, tears streaming down her face as she howled with mirth, finally managing to catch her breath enough to exclaim, "We'll always have Paris!"

Aphrodite actually blushed. Maybe there was hope for her after all.

Thalia jumped from her chair, "Instead of us competing and mortals judging us, why don't we come up with some contests for them that we judge?"

Everyone started talking at once, shouting out ideas for mortal contests.

"Let's see which one can run the fastest!"

"Who can throw something heavy the farthest!"

"Let's make them wrestle each other!"

Everyone had an idea. I really liked the one Ballatas suggested about making the mortals use a crooked stick to hit a tiny ball into a gopher hole hundreds of yards away with all kinds of trees, lakes, tall grass, and sand in the way, but everyone else said it sounded dull. I also like Ares's idea about a race, but before the runners could approach the finish line, they had to kill something in the forest and carry the carcass to the finish line, but Apollo got all bent out of shape about it "not being fair if the animals ran away" and yada yada yada about how messy the carcasses would be, completely overlooking the fact that the race would provide its own champion's feast, but Apollo's so prissy I have trouble believing he chased Daphne as hard as he did. Just doesn't add up. Now Dionysus or Pan, sure, but I doubt she would have tried to flee either of them. Apollo can be so obnoxious with his self-righteousness.