The Great Hall was the code name for what remained of Olympus—they were a fallen people, and other powers were looking for where the remains of their strength were hidden. Rome itself fell when the rest of the pantheon finally had enough and imprisoned Zeus. Not that most of them were much better, but they knew the homeworld would not favor their return if they left that criminally insane God running wild on this backwater planet. The Titans held that great a grudge against him.

But it left them weak against Christianity, which the Romans were converting to. Who could blame them? The petty bastards were in-fighting again.

The gods could have killed Zeus a long time ago instead of chaining him to the heart of his castle, but Hera was in a weird state over the man. Grace thought it would have been more a mercy to not have him perpetually trussed as a sacrificial goose for the day they meet with the rulers of the homeworld.

In spite her personal reservations about his imprisonment, he was what she came here for—thankful the man still existed. Hephaestus had made a prison that would slowly peel off Zeus's skin if he lied, thus turning his father's knowledge into a learning resource for all the descendants. It was an unrelenting grudge for Zeus's breaking his legs and crippling him when he was young. He could barely walk until humans finally caught up with more modern technology and he had his bones reset.

So, past Hera's court—she would flay any woman for seeing her husband alone, but was so wrapped up in delusions that it was pretty easy to get around her—under the throne, to a small room that looked more like a bonsai arboretum, to the man shackled in the center without the ability to move: the pattern was so mundane that Grace didn't have to sneak.

"Hello pretty little thing." Of course, nothing really quenched Zeus's libido—or more accurately the pretense of one, to put on a brave face in this hell.

Grace felt herself wilt for a moment, before she remembered that she really hated this particular God. Strange how disgust could sometimes stop cold insecurities about talking to people. "I'm a descendant of Hephaestus."

The façade dropped instantly—the look on his face was ugly. "Why would the bastard's kin come to see me?"

Grace smirked. "Why else, Gramps?"

"You're not my descendant." He looked like he wanted to turn away and dismiss her, but he couldn't move far. Lowering his eyes wasn't an option for this proud man's ego.

"Hephe had all the blood work done. You're very much his father, and you went insane because your son looked like Hera and not you—especially after your whoring around, old man."

"Did you come here to taunt me, child?"

"I need answers." Grace finally decided to sit down across from the ancient God who could have passed for a porn star parody of a college professor who had an preternatural affinity for Hawaiian shirts and Crocs-with-socks. Apparently giving "the most beautiful god" horribly unfashionable clothes was a petty form of torture, but it would work better if he didn't have enough beauty to overcome even that. "Unfortunately, your son can be as much of a rank bastard as you."

The old god chuckled. "That he can be. I'm curious child, so speak."

"How can I defeat a Love Djinn with a torc on?"

Zeus laughed all the harder, a tear streamed from his eye before he took a deep breath. "What have you done to have your powers locked away like mine?"

The look of shock on Grace's face nearly made Zeus's howl, but he shook his head to open up his collar and show that his neckware was the same as her own.

"I've....I've never manifested power." Shock settled Grace back into old habits—a stutter lurked around any emotional corner. She hated him even more for being able to pull that out of her.

"Hmmm..." Zeus pondered that bit of knowledge for a moment. "If this truly is a Love Djinn, burning his home would kill him. He would be bound to the home and not be freed from it so the fire would be unquestionably eternal damnation. But I suspect that if you sport that necklace, he is a more free Djinn playing at being your slave, which means you could bed him and use that to bind him to his home, then burn it."

"I'm not sleeping with some ancient djinn just to kill him!"

"Why not? You look old enough to have been married for a while and bored with your husband."

"I'm 16."

" Do you know how young Greeks and Romans married?"

"Yes, and 20 is not too old."

"Ah, but they brought trials to court all the time for children younger than 12 entering illegal marriages. As I said, you're old to be this innocent. Bed the creature and kill it—or don't, and still burn his home to find out he isn't yours to control. And if he's not your Djinn, how will you dominate it? They are very powerful creatures and even I would fear one in my state. Now, who put that thing on you, my son?"

"The Djinn did."

"Well, then. You don't have to burn his home. What slave could do this to their master? Unless his true master comes forward, you are his to toy with."

"Fuck... And there's nothing else I can do?" Grace bit her lip in frustration.

"There is one other thing... "

Grace had a bad feeling about this one, but found herself asking. "What is it?"

"Release me. I will destroy the old gods like I did many Titans before them, and replace Hera with you in order to make a new Pantheon, and I will trample that Djinn as a bridal gift."

"Uhm...that's incest, dude."

Zeus cracked a grin. "I can't build a new Pantheon without having a wife that has power. After all, Hera was my sister."

He wasn't telling her what she didn't know. Zeus fled to Earth and destroyed many lives in the process, and foremost was the mother of them all. Even worse, they came with so few members that there was no way to not become interrelated over time, but this bastard just bypassed letting their descendants intertwine and did it all for himself.

"Frankly, you are worse than the Djinn.' Grace couldn't help the sneer on her face. "You're a disgusting creature."

"Ah, that's the look I like to wipe off a woman's face." Zeus crooned these words like she brought him some relief from his hell. "I suggest you leave—unless you want to watch."

Grace fled without looking back. Honestly, that he waited that long to start his antics was surprising. She fully expected she'd have to endure that before getting her answers.

Thankfully this prisoner was truly little threat, beyond being pure filth.

He just held so much of what she feared to find in people she wanted to respect—yet another layer of why she hated being in public. Amazing how bad family ties that weren't even your own personal trauma kept you from wanting to trust others.