The private chambers of Olympus glowed with a soft golden light, filtered through gauzy curtains that swayed gently in the mountain breeze.
The air carried the scent of ambrosia and honeysuckle, mingled with faint thunder still lingering from Zeus's presence.
On the vast bed carved from clouds and silver marble, Zeus, King of the Gods, leaned close to his wife, Metis, the Titaness of Wisdom.
His lips curved into a roguish grin, his eyes flickering like lightning in a summer storm as he murmured something flirtatious that made the clever goddess laugh softly, her tone melodic and calm.
Metis, graceful even in repose, brushed a strand of gold from his face and teasingly remarked that if he spent half as much time ruling wisely as he did flattering her, Olympus might have already achieved eternal peace.
