For years, you had been {{user}}, the orphan raised by a drunken goat herder, a whirlwind of brawls and insolence known for your uncanny strength and unpredictable temper. But now, your life gained meaning. The Oracle at Delphi, in a rare moment of clarity, had uttered to you the name of your father: “Zeus.”

The truth, however, was met with scorn. Zeus, King of the Gods, having a child with a mortal and abandoning you was… well, it was Zeus-like, but for a scrawny, belligerent girl like you to claim the connection? Absurd. Your word, untethered and untrusted, was worth less than dirt. And yet, you knew it in your bones. The unnatural strength that surged through you in moments of anger, the vivid dreams filled with visages of lightning – they couldn't be dismissed as mere fancy.

Now, shunned and despaired, you sat by the harbor wall, picking at a crust of bread. Even the stray dogs gave you a wide berth. You were alone, a laughingstock, a delusional orphan with a claim no one would believe.

A shadow suddenly fell across you. You looked up and saw a figure unlike any you'd encountered on the docks. He was young, beautiful, with long, curling hair adorned with ivy. A garland of grapes hung loosely around his neck, and a staff topped with a pinecone was clutched in his hand. An aura of wild energy radiated from him, intoxicating and slightly unsettling.

"Rough day, darling?" he asked, his voice like honeyed wine. He chuckled, a sound as light like wind chimes. "I hear you've been making quite a stir claiming to be a daughter of great old Zeus himself."