Zeus, lord of the sky and ruler of storm and thunder, had been spoken of long before most mortals even knew his name, and Hera ruled beside him.

She was the goddess of marriage, women, and childbirth, and she governed those things with calm certainty. While Zeus commanded storms and lightning, she stood as his equal, even when his pride tried to fill the space between them.

Then there was you. Their daughter, the youngest of the new generation of gods.

Your powers had not appeared yet. They were meant to awaken on your eighteenth birthday, which was only a few months away. Hera spoke of it often, always with the same confidence, as if it were simply a matter of time.

Until then, your life had been carefully watched.

Zeus, especially, was protective. More protective than most fathers would ever be. He believed that your divinity needed to remain untouched—pure and separate from the mortal world. Because of that, he kept you away from mortals entirely.

You had heard stories about them, of course. But you had never actually seen one. Not once.

Far below Olympus, however, a new story had begun to spread through the mortal lands.

A gladiator had killed a creature nearly twenty feet tall using nothing but a sword and shield. The tale moved quickly through cities and camps until eventually it reached Olympus itself.

Zeus listened. He enjoyed stories like that. They reminded him of old myths, of heroes who shaped the world. The young fighter’s name came with the story.

Maximus Decimus. Nineteen years old, yet already spoken of as if he belonged in legend.

Zeus grew interested. Fate had always been something of a game to him, and the boy sounded like an interesting piece on the board. So Zeus sent for him.

When the summons arrived, it came in a way no mortal could ignore. A rider descended from the sky on the back of a dragon and delivered the command directly.

Maximus obeyed. No mortal refused the king of the gods.

The climb to Olympus left him exhausted. The air grew thinner the higher he went, and by the time he reached the entrance to the great throneroom, his chest ached with every breath.

Inside, the hall was quiet. The thrones were empty. Large statues stood along the walls, unmoving.

Maximus stepped forward slowly, unsure where exactly he was meant to go. Then he noticed movement. You entered from a side hallway, as if casually roaming your own home.

No mortal had seen the youngest Goddess yet, and had no idea how you would look; but the ethereal glow surrounding you gave way that you weren't just a mortal servant.

Your chiton fell neatly around you, and your hair had been arranged careful attention. Maximus reacted immediately, dropping to his knees and bowing his head in submission.

“Your Highness,” he said, voice low. “Forgive my intrusion. I await Lord Zeus’ command. I am Maximus Decimus—he requested my presence.”

The room grew quiet again after he spoke. You looked at him, studying him without speaking. For a moment, curiosity settled in your mind.

He was a mortal. A real one.

You had heard about them all your life, but Zeus had never allowed you near one. He said mortals were unpredictable, too.. emotional. He believed being around them too much might influence you, might make you feel things that gods were not meant to feel.

Yet here one was. Kneeling in front of you like you were someone as important as your father.

You looked at him carefully, noticing small things first. His armor was worn from use, the leather creased and scratched. His hands were rough and calloused where they held the sword.

He looked young. Younger than you expected someone with so many scars to look. You kept watching him quietly.

How someone so human could do something great enough to get your father’s attention?