CHAPTER 113: "THEN DON’T LET ME GO."

The sun was slipping low over Olympus, spilling its last gold over marble columns and winding gardens.

Zeus had just left the training grounds after checking in on Ares—his usual routine. The war god was in a foul mood, muttering about being bored. Zeus had given him a few short words before leaving; Ares didn’t need handholding, just something to keep his fire burning.

He decided to walk the long way back to his chambers, letting the cooler evening air run over his skin. The halls of Olympus were quieter at this hour, the echo of footsteps stretching ahead of him. He turned down one of the garden paths, following the sound of a fountain somewhere deeper inside.

That’s when he saw her.

Demeter sat alone on a stone bench, the folds of her pale green dress spilling over the side. Her hair—golden and loose—caught the faint light like strands of sunlight trapped in silk. A single cup of wine rested beside her, untouched. Her gaze was fixed on the ground, as though she was watching something only she could see.

She didn’t notice him at first.

Zeus slowed his steps, his boots quiet against the stone. "Demeter."

Her head lifted, and there was a flicker of surprise before she gave a small smile. "Zeus. I didn’t expect you out here."

"I could say the same." He glanced at the untouched wine, then at her face. "You look... somewhere else."

She gave a quiet laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Maybe I am."

He came closer, the evening breeze shifting the folds of his robe. "What’s wrong?"

Demeter shook her head lightly. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Just... thinking."

"About what?" he pressed, voice softer now.

Her eyes moved away, toward the fountain, where the water caught the fading sun. "It’s strange, isn’t it? We fought the same war. We bled for the same cause. But sometimes, I feel like I’m still... alone in all this."

Zeus’s brow lowered slightly. "You’re not alone."

"Am I not?" She looked at him again, and in her eyes there was something deeper—tiredness, maybe, or something that had been kept locked away too long. "It’s different for you. You’ve always been... surrounded. People follow you. They need you. But me... I’ve always been the one who gives, who heals, who grows. And when that’s done... there’s no one left to ask if I’m alright."

Her words were steady, but Zeus caught the faint crack beneath them.

He stepped closer, his shadow falling across her. "Then I’ll ask. Are you alright?"

Demeter’s lips curved into a small smile, but it was a fragile one. "No. Not always."

He sat beside her, the bench cool under his hand. The scent of flowers drifted between them, and for a moment, neither spoke. The quiet was not uncomfortable—it was simply full.

"I’ve seen you carry more than anyone should," he said after a while. "You were there when the earth was broken, and you made it bloom again. You’ve always been there. Even when no one noticed."

Her eyes softened, but there was still a guarded edge to her. "And yet... I’m still here alone."

Zeus turned to face her fully, his gaze steady. "Not tonight."

Something shifted in her expression then—a flicker of hesitation, then decision. She leaned closer, her hand brushing lightly against his on the bench. "Zeus... there’s something I’ve never told you."

He didn’t move. "Say it."

Her voice lowered, almost a whisper. "I’ve been hiding it for years. Since before the war. I thought it would fade. I told myself it would." She hesitated, searching his face. "It didn’t."

"What is it you’ve been hiding?"

Demeter’s lips pressed together for a breath before she finally said it. "I love you."

The air between them felt still. He didn’t look shocked.

"I know," Zeus said simply.

Her eyes widened slightly, the faintest flush coloring her cheeks. "You... knew?"

He gave a faint smile. "I’m not blind, Demeter. I’ve seen it in the way you look at me. The way you stay close, even when you pretend not to."

Her breath caught, the smallest laugh breaking from her. "And you never said anything?"

"I didn’t want to speak for you," he said. "I wanted you to tell me when you were ready."

The last of the sunlight caught her hair as she leaned in, closing the space between them. Her lips met his, soft at first—testing, almost uncertain—until his hand came up to cup her cheek. He kissed her back, slow and deliberate, as if neither of them were in any hurry.

When they finally pulled apart, her eyes searched his. "So... what now?"

Zeus brushed a strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering just below her ear. "Now? We stop pretending."

For a moment, she just looked at him, the tension in her shoulders easing. Then she smiled—not the fragile one from before, but something warmer, something real.

The fountain kept its gentle rhythm beside them, the world beyond the garden hushed. For tonight, there were no councils, no wars, no shifting alliances—just the two of them, sitting close on a stone bench as night settled over Olympus.

And for the first time in a long time, Demeter didn’t feel alone.

The air between them was warm now, charged with something unspoken but understood.

Zeus held her gaze for a moment longer, then let his hand slide down to take hers.

"Come with me," he said quietly.

Demeter blinked, a hint of surprise touching her face. "Where?"

He didn’t answer with words. The lightning in his eyes flashed just enough for her to catch it—then the air around them shifted, pulling like a tide. In the next heartbeat, the garden, the fountain, and the fading light were gone.

They stood in his chambers.

The room was wide and high, its walls carved from white stone streaked faintly with gold. Tall windows stood open to the night, the breeze carrying in the scent of rain from far below the mountain. The floor was cool marble underfoot, but a thick rug of deep crimson stretched before the bed—a vast thing of dark wood and layered sheets.

Demeter’s eyes flicked around, her voice low. "You didn’t give me much time to think about this."

"You’ve had years to think," he said simply, still holding her hand. "Now you’re here."

She looked back at him, the faintest smile playing at her lips. "And what happens now?"

Zeus stepped closer, close enough that the air between them grew thin. His free hand came up to rest at the small of her back, drawing her nearer. "Now," he said, "we stop pretending there’s distance between us."

Her breath caught when he leaned in again, his lips brushing hers with more certainty than before. This time the kiss wasn’t hesitant—it was slow but deep, his hand firm against her back, keeping her close. She melted into it, her arms rising to rest against his shoulders.

When they parted, just enough to look at each other, his gaze softened. "You’ve been alone too long," he murmured. "Not tonight."

Demeter searched his eyes, as if looking for any trace of doubt. She didn’t find it. Her fingers trailed lightly down his arm before she nodded once. "Then don’t let me go."