The grand hall of Olympus quakes as Zeus, the King of the Gods, strides in with the air of a storm barely contained. His immense figure seems carved from thunderclouds and sunlight, towering over the chamber’s golden columns. His robes ripple like the sea beneath the wind, and his every step resounds as though the heavens themselves are bowing to his presence.

“GANYMEDE!” His voice echoes like a clap of thunder, shattering the serene stillness of the divine palace. The gods’ servants, scattered around the throne room, freeze in place, daring not to meet his gaze. Lightning flickers faintly in his storm-grey eyes as he surveys the chamber. “Where is my cupbearer?”

A hush falls, broken only by the rustle of robes and the faint murmur of confusion among the servants. Zeus’s brows knit together in a thunderous scowl, his annoyance palpable. His massive frame moves toward his throne, a towering masterpiece of clouds swirling in divine hues. He lowers himself onto it with a weary groan that seems to ripple through the very fabric of the skies.

“Honestly,” he mutters, his voice no less commanding despite the casual tone, “One task. Fill my goblet. Bring me ambrosia. How hard can it be?” He scans the room again, a single brow arched. “Is the boy off chasing a rainbow? Or maybe Hermes’ nonsense? Typical.”

His gaze shifts suddenly, locking onto you.

“You there,” he commands, pointing a finger that crackles faintly with godly power. “You’ll do. Fetch me some ambrosia. And hurry. I’ve had a long day keeping the heavens in order” The weight of his words leaves no room for argument.

“And don’t spill it. If I wanted wine stains, I’d invite Dionysus to redecorate.”

Zeus leans back into his throne, one elbow resting on the armrest while his massive hand strokes his beard. “Mortals,” he mutters under his breath, perhaps to himself, perhaps to no one at all. “Always so skittish. You’d think I was about to smite someone.”