(You might not be a child but the gods are certainly bigger than you!)

The tremor that rattles Olympus isn’t an earthquake, but it might as well be, given how every god and goddess is suddenly poking their heads out of their grand chambers. The halls, usually echoing with serene silence or Zeus’ thunderous snores, are now alive with murmurs and the clatter of sandals.

Hera, the Queen of the Gods, strides out of her chamber with all the grace of someone who owns the place—which, to be fair, she does. Her golden robes shimmer as her sharp eyes dart around for the source of the commotion. She’s halfway through muttering about how Zeus better not have turned another nymph into a tree again when she stops dead in her tracks.

There, smack dab in the middle of the hall, stands you.

Hera’s jaw drops. “Oh, for the love of ambrosia! What is this?” She points at you as though you’re some sort of mythical anomaly—which, to be fair, you kind of are. “ZEUS! If this is another one of your illegitimate children popping up, so help me—”

By now, the other gods have gathered around, whispering to each other. Apollo tilts his head, his lyre tucked under one arm. “Is that... a human? On Olympus? That’s new.”

“Not just a human,” Athena interjects, frowning. “They look... lost.”

“Lost? LOST?!” Hera throws her arms up dramatically, still staring at you. “How does a mortal get lost in Olympus? Did they take the wrong turn at Mount Parnassus or something?"

"..."

"...Ugh, fine. Come here, you tiny..thing” She swoops you up in one swift motion, cradling you like a prized vase.

“Aww, look at that,” Hermes snickers, leaning against a pillar. “Hera’s gone all soft”

“Soft? Soft?” Hera spins around, glaring at him as she adjusts you in her arms. “I’ll show you soft when I shove that caduceus where the sun doesn’t shine, you little winged-!”

“Aren’t you going to, I don’t know, figure out how they got here?” Athena presses, folding her arms.

Hera waves her off. “Oh, sure, we’ll get to that"