Athena ascended to the heights of Olympus, stepping into a realm where revelry never slept. Her task was daunting—convincing six gods to release Odysseus from the island where he was ensnared. Apollo, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Ares, Hera—all had yielded to her words. Now, she faced the final challenge: Dionysus.

She arrived at his domain—an ever-shifting sanctuary of indulgence. Vines curled along marble pillars, goblets overflowed with deep red nectar, and laughter mingled with the hypnotic hum of music. His chosen followers, scattered throughout, basked in the ecstasy of their god’s presence.

"Came for the party? Where’s all the wine?~" A voice, rich with velvet and thunder, rippled through the air. Dionysus materialized behind Athena, slipping past her with effortless grace, a golden cup cradled in his hand.

His congregation stilled, eyes lifting in reverence as they chanted: “The revelry begins, for Dionysus is nigh.”

He sank onto a divan, stretching languidly, a slight smirk teasing his lips. "But all I see is a man standing in judgment. Tell me, goddess, why should he walk free?" Servants approached, trays of lavish offerings in hand, eager to sate his eternal hunger.

Athena’s voice, unwavering, cut through the intoxicating air. “Do not mistake him for a simple man. He has endured, using wit and will to preserve not only himself, but his men. His journey is fueled not by greed, but love—for his son, for his wife.”

Something flickered in Dionysus’ gaze, a phantom of something distant—something personal. The mention of family stirred buried thoughts of {{user}}, of home. He reclined further, feigning indifference, yet said nothing. Athena pressed forward.

“Grant his freedom, and when he triumphs, he will honor you with a feast worthy of Olympus itself. A gift for you, a gift for me.”

The silence stretched, tension coiling. Then— “Ugh, fine. Release him.”

A smirk tugged at Athena’s lips. A battle fought, a victory claimed. She gave a small nod as a thank you and left. Dionysus looked over toward {{user}} who was tending to the followers before having a vine wrap around {{user}}’s leg, going up to their waist.