"Lady Hebe, the banquet is nearly upon us. Shall we begin your preparations?" Agatha stood outside the temple gates at the head of a procession of Nymphs. Her expression was one of absolute reverence, her voice soft and inquiring.
"Come in, Agatha. I appreciate the hard work of you and your sisters."
Hebe stowed the Frost Mirror and waved her hand to open the gates. Now that she knew the location of Cres's Godhood, there was no need to rush. There was a far more pressing matter at hand: the grand investiture celebrating her and Apollo's elevation to the Seats of Major Gods.
The ceremony was held in the Great Plaza at the very heart of Mount Olympus. Zeus had brought forth the Cornucopia, which continuously spilled out fine wines and divine delicacies for the gods' enjoyment.
Across the plaza, the deities drank deeply and made merry. Led by Aphrodite, the Charites danced with mesmerizing grace, while the Muses plucked their lyres, singing the most beautiful hymns. Everything was lush, extravagant, and dreamlike—a revelry of gods lost in a haze of pleasure.
As one of the protagonists of the day, Apollo had naturally prepared himself with care. He wore a golden Himation, leaving his muscular torso partially exposed. His flawless proportions made him look towering, athletic, and elegant. Atop his head rested a crown woven from laurel, myrtle, and water lilies, which served only to highlight his golden hair and peerless features.
The God of Light possessed a beauty that seemed to rival, perhaps even eclipse, that of his father. His presence left the goddesses breathless; many cast inviting glances his way, hoping to share his bed for the night. In the open culture of the Greek gods, a one-night union was perfectly common—which was why so many divine children had "unknown" paternity.
Suddenly, a fresh wave of commotion rippled through the banquet.
"Lady Hebe has arrived!" "By the heavens, who crafted that gown? I must have one!" "Lady Hebe is truly transcendent today."
Hearing the whispers, Apollo instinctively turned toward his rival. As he saw Hebe walking gracefully toward the center of the plaza, even the handsome god was momentarily stunned.
At the insistence of her Nymphs, Hebe had finally abandoned her practical hunting leathers for a magnificent ensemble. She wore a snow-white Chiton that exposed her ivory arms, its relaxed yet elegant cut tracing her lithe silhouette. With every step, the fabric flowed with an enchanting, subtle seven-colored shimmer that was vibrant yet never harsh.
This garment had been specifically sent by Hera. The fabric was invaluable, woven from the silk of Far East Gold Silkworms fed exclusively on the leaves of the Golden Apple Tree, and further imbued with iridescent divine power by Iris.
Hebe's face was a vision of refined beauty. As the Goddess of Youth, she radiated an eternal vitality; her skin was white and delicate as cream, her lips a deeper, more tender crimson than a rose. Her violet eyes flashed with confidence and majesty. The Crown of Winter, adorned with flowers, leaves, and fruit, declared her status as the Sovereign of the Seasons. In an instant, she became the undisputed focus of the entire assembly.
"Good day, Lord Apollo."
Hebe approached Apollo under the watchful eyes of the gods, her smile slight yet polite. Though their relationship was strained, as the guests of honor, she felt it necessary to maintain a veneer of civility.
"...Good day, Lady Hebe," Apollo replied softly. He looked away after a brief acknowledgment, sipping his wine as a pensive depth entered his blue eyes.
If this goddess actually dresses up, he thought, she is... somewhat passable.
As the joyous atmosphere swept through the banquet, Hebe moved through the crowd with practiced grace, offering appropriate smiles to the gods who came to congratulate her. After politely declining yet another invitation to dance from a male deity, she began to feel a twinge of impatience.
I could be back in my temple meditating on laws right now, she thought. This is a waste of time.
"I haven't had the chance to congratulate you in person, Sovereign of the Seasons, Lady Hebe."
A warm, intellectual voice spoke beside her. Prometheus sat down by her side, a knowing smile touching his lips as he observed her boredom. "It seems our noble Major God is already growing weary of the divine festivities."
"Lord Prometheus."
Hebe's expression softened immediately. Her relationship with Prometheus was one of mutual respect—part friendship, part mentorship. Their successful collaboration on the human race had forged a strong bond. Furthermore, his vast erudition fascinated her, and unlike other male gods, he held no lecherous designs toward her. He was the perfect shield against the "swarms of bees and butterflies" trying to court her.
"It is rare to see you leave your humans to return to the mountain," Hebe teased. Since the creation of man, Prometheus had been entirely devoted to them, seemingly valuing them more than his own divine son, Deucalion.
"Winter has not yet passed. The earth is still resting and repairing the damage from the fire, and the humans are slumbering under the gods' blessing. Since there is a lull in work, I returned specifically to congratulate you on your elevation."
Prometheus took a sip of wine and continued, "My prophecy was accurate; the humans survived the fire thanks to your timely intervention." His tone carried a hint of self-satisfaction.
"There is no need for thanks. Even without our agreement, the humans have built temples for me and offer me their faith. Protecting them is my duty," Hebe said, a trace of compassion in her eyes. "I only wish I could have acted sooner to save more."
Hebe knew she couldn't stop the gears of the world or prevent the transition of solar power, but as a former human, she held a natural kindness toward them. Her only option was to shelter as many as possible when calamity struck.
"It was enough," Prometheus said, shaking his head. He looked at the debauchery of the gods in the plaza, his voice tinged with irony. "Few gods possess your level of conscience."
"...The number of humans on the earth is still low, and we lost many to the fire," Hebe noted. "Have you considered how to increase their population?"
Hebe had always wondered why Prometheus had refrained from creating women during the initial creation.
"Humanity is settled. City-states are built, and Hestia provides protection for their hearths; monsters will not strike them easily now," Prometheus whispered. "I am considering petitioning Zeus to create women to expand the race."
He explained that he hadn't created women or children initially because they were too vulnerable; their tender flesh would have been a delicacy for monsters. With no permanent homes, he couldn't ensure their safety. Now that the human cities were stable and the prophesied calamity had passed, he was ready for the race to reproduce naturally.
"I wonder if I can still count on the Lady's help when the time comes?" Prometheus winked, posing the question as a lighthearted jest.
"Naturally. This is a monumental event for the race. I am duty-bound to assist."
And that Merit is too good to pass up, Hebe thought.
"Then it is settled. I won't have you complaining about the exhaustion next time," Prometheus laughed, recalling the image of the young goddess a century ago, haggard and worn from day and night of parsing Life Laws.
She endured that ordeal with such grit and pride... she is very much like her, he thought, his mind drifting momentarily to another goddess with radiant violet eyes.
"Do not underestimate me, My Lord. The Hebe of today is not the girl of yesterday," Hebe said, her head held high with confidence. Her centuries of diligence were paying off; as a member of the Twelve, she was now securely positioned in the halls of power.
"Haha... my mistake. The Lady's strength already leaves me in the dust."
"Lord Prometheus, why be so humble? Your vast knowledge is a treasure no amount of divine power can buy..."
Apollo watched the two of them talk and laugh from a distance, his expression cooling.
For some reason, the scene grated on him. She was all "spring breezes and smiles" for Prometheus, yet distant and cold for him? They had fought side by side, after all; her double standard was irritating. An unidentifiable fire burned in his chest, making even Prometheus's handsome, gentle face look repulsive.
What business does a male god have looking so soft? Apollo thought. A god should have a nine-head-high stature and eight-pack abs, like me!
"Brother, what are you looking at?"
Artemis sat down beside him, her wine cup in hand. Her face remained sacred and beautiful, but the carefree spark of her youth had vanished, replaced by a lingering shadow of melancholy. She followed Apollo's gaze to Hebe and Prometheus, her grip tightening on her chalice. Her expression became deeply complex.
She looked back at her brother, noting his intense, focused stare. Artemis was no ignorant girl; even as a Virgin Goddess, she understood the concept of mental attraction. The way Apollo looked at Hebe was... wrong.
Why her? Artemis felt a surge of betrayal. Remembering the humiliation of her defeat and the pain of her stripped Godhood, a flash of hatred crossed her silver-gray eyes. Her voice became sharp.
"Brother, have you forgotten the shame her mother brought upon us?"
"Ari, what's wrong with you?" Apollo snapped, his attention drawn back to his sister. He frowned at her gloom, confused by her sudden outburst.
"Tell me, Brother... is there something between you and Hebe...?"
"Artemis!" Apollo cut her off with a harsh bark. "Do you realize what you're saying? Between her and me... it is impossible!"
He spoke with absolute certainty, yet as the word left his lips, a strange sense of loss bubbled up within him, like a heavy cloud settling over his heart. He felt bloated with an inexplicable irritation.
Artemis was startled by his tone, but his answer brought her relief. She lowered her posture and tugged at his sleeve. "Do not be angry, Brother. I am just... restless lately. We are the Twin Gods of Sun and Moon. You have the sun, but Selene has done nothing wrong. I worry for my future. When will the moon be mine? And that Major God seat..."
Artemis's distress was real. She was the destined Moon Goddess, yet her sovereignty eluded her. Meanwhile, her brother was bathed in glory, and Hebe—the girl she once looked down upon—had ascended from a minor third-tier deity to a Major God with multiple merits.
Fate favors her so much. Why do I not find such miracles? Envy threatened to consume her. If she could seize the moon, she might reach the Major God power level. With one seat remaining among the Twelve, and with her father's favor, she might have a chance. She was tired of being looked down upon.
"Sigh..." Apollo knew her heart. He truly loved his twin. "Do not worry, Ari. The Moon Sovereignty will be yours soon. Just give me a little time."
He stroked her silver-gray hair, a cruel, cold light flashing in his sky-blue eyes. Selene...
"Hebe looks quite stunning today," Zeus remarked, plucking a grape from a gold tray as he watched his youngest daughter. A flicker of interest danced in his eyes.
"Stow those filthy thoughts!"
Hera's hand nearly crushed the gold armrest of her throne. She knew the depths of this King's depravity better than anyone. "I can tolerate your other dalliances, but if you touch Hebe, I will ensure this entire Divine Realm collapses around you."
Her voice was like shards of ice. Her children were her absolute red line. She would rather strangle a threat in its cradle than let it touch them—especially Zeus's revolting urges.
"Ahem... my noble Queen, how could you so misinterpret a father's simple pride in his child?" Zeus was embarrassed by her bluntness, but with the gods watching, a public argument would damage his majesty. He laughed it off, but his internal thoughts remained his own.
"Ahem! Fellow gods!" Zeus stood, raising the Thunderbolt Scepter high. His voice boomed across the mountain. "Today we gather to celebrate the addition of two more Major Gods to our divine ranks. Now, let the Investiture Ceremony begin!"
The scepter flared with light. Two brilliant pillars of light shot into the firmament—one a scorching, blinding gold, the other a vibrant gold-green, brimming with life.
In the Great Hall of the Sovereigns, two new thrones rose beside the existing nine. On one throne, the phantom of a sun appeared, within which was an open eye—representing Apollo's Sun and Prophecy offices. On the other, exquisite patterns of flowers and vines flowed, with the changing images of the four seasons swirling across its surface—representing Hebe's Life Godhood and her status as Sovereign of the Seasons.
As the rite concluded, Hebe felt a supreme power descend upon her. Her soul felt suddenly weightless, and her connection to the Laws tightened to a razor focus—she felt as though her every word could now command the universe.
A wave of liberation swept through her. An invisible, manipulative force detached from her spirit. She had been formally pardoned by the Laws from the machinations of Fate.
The weight in Hebe's heart finally vanished. The Seat of a Major God was finally hers.