Son of Fire

Hearing Alexander's answer, Athena's gaze sharpened as she leaned forward slightly. "Why do you respect those gods but not us? Do you not see the wisdom and power within this council?"

Alexander tilted his head, his expression unwavering. A faint smirk played on his lips as he replied, "You know, there's a saying I've always found interesting: 'The wisest man doesn't always ask wise questions.' Seems fitting here, don't you think?"

Athena's eyes flashed dangerously, her voice colder than before. "How dare you question my wisdom? Do you truly believe yourself capable of judging the gods?"

Alexander's gaze hardened as he stood tall, his voice firm yet calm. "Yes," he said, meeting Athena's glare without flinching. "Because if divinity were judged by your actions, most of you wouldn't be gods. You'd be lesser than mortals."

A ripple of tension passed through the council as Alexander turned fully to Athena. "Take you, for example, Athena, goddess of justice,wisdom and war. Yes, you hold those titles, but your actions sometimes contradict them. Let's talk about Medusa. She was violated by Poseidon in your temple, and when she cried for help, you didn't protect her. Instead, you punished her by turning her into a monster."

A faint murmur of unease echoed among the gods, but Alexander continued without hesitation. "And then there's Arachne. A mortal woman who claimed to be a better craftswoman than you. Instead of proving your superiority through wisdom or compassion, you humiliated her, cursed her, and turned her into a spider—a creature that later became a threat to your own children."

His words hung heavy in the chamber, the silence charged with unspoken tension. Athena's eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched, but for once, she did not respond immediately.

Alexander's gaze shifted to Hera, his voice steady but sharp. "And then we have you, Hera, Queen of Olympus. A goddess renowned not for nurturing or leading, but for harming demigods who've done nothing to you. Let's be honest here—your legacy is not one of fairness or wisdom, but of punishing innocent children simply because they exist."

Hera's eyes flared with indignation, but Alexander pressed on, undeterred. "These children didn't ask to be born. It wasn't their choice. It was your husband who betrayed your vows, time and again. So why punish them? Why not hold Zeus accountable for his actions instead of taking your anger out on those who have no power over the situation?"

The air grew thick with tension as Alexander continued, his words cutting through the silence like a blade. "I mean, truly, try to take responsibility for your actions. A queen should lead with dignity and fairness, not with bitterness and spite."

Hera's face hardened, her hands gripping the armrests of her throne. But for all her fury, she found no immediate retort to his words, leaving the chamber steeped in an uncomfortable silence.

Alexander's eyes turned to Ares, his tone sharpening. "And then we come to you, Ares, the so-called God of War. It's almost ironic when you compare yourself to your Roman counterpart, Mars. He at least represents war with purpose—wars that protect, that help a nation grow, that bring order when necessary. Wars that have repercussions that extend beyond bloodshed and destruction."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before continuing, his voice laced with contempt. "But you? You're nothing but the embodiment of brutal, senseless violence. Every war you've touched has been needless, chaotic, and devoid of purpose. You revel in destruction for destruction's sake, leaving behind nothing but death and ruin. What good have you done since the start of your existence? How have your actions ever benefited anyone, mortal or divine?"

Ares' jaw clenched, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword, but Alexander didn't flinch. Instead, he took a step closer, his gaze unyielding. "You claim to be the God of War, but the truth is, you're a disgrace to the very concept. War should have meaning, Ares. It should stand for something. But with you, it's nothing but carnage and chaos. A legacy of destruction with no redemption."

The room was heavy with tension, Ares visibly bristling with rage, but Alexander's unwavering stance spoke volumes. The silence of the other gods only made the moment more powerful, their gazes shifting uneasily between the two.

Alexander shifted his gaze toward Demeter and Dionysus, his voice taking on a calm yet cutting tone. "Then there's you, Demeter. Compared to most of the gods here, your slate isn't as tainted with wrongdoing. Sure, there are some questionable deeds in your name, but nothing compared to the chaos most of your family has caused. The same goes for you, Dionysus. Your list of sins isn't as long, but that doesn't mean you're innocent."

He fixed his sharp eyes on Dionysus. "You, for instance, said to my friend Percy Jackson that you despise demigods because they use people and abandon them. Yet what's the first thing you did after becoming a god? You tried to bed a wood nymph. And what was your reward for that? Punishment by your father, Zeus—though, let's not kid ourselves, Zeus probably only intervened because he wanted the nymph for himself."

Alexander took a step closer, his words gaining an edge. "And when you were exiled to Camp Half-Blood as its director? Instead of making life easier for those kids, you did everything you could to make their lives miserable. You sulked, complained, and lashed out at them, all because you couldn't handle being punished for your own actions. And let's not forget, these are not the arrogant demigods of your time who treated mortals like playthings. These kids help each other, they fight for survival, and they sacrifice for the greater good—things you seem to have forgotten entirely."

Dionysus scowled, but Alexander held his ground, his words hanging heavy in the air. "You blame them for the sins of the past, but they aren't the ones who abandoned humanity or caused havoc. That was you, your peers, and the demigods of old. Maybe it's time you looked in the mirror instead of lashing out at the ones trying to fix the mess you left behind."

The room was silent, save for the faint creak of Dionysus gripping the arm of his throne, his face a mix of embarrassment and anger. Demeter's expression was neutral, though her lips pressed into a thin line, showing she wasn't pleased by the turn of the conversation.

Alexander's eyes turned to Poseidon and Zeus as he continued, his voice unwavering. "Then, you have Poseidon and Zeus. Poseidon, at least, has remained loyal to his wife, even through all the centuries. Sure, he's not perfect—he's made his mistakes—but compared to the other gods, he's actually been a somewhat responsible figure. At least he hasn't drowned entire countries out of a whim, as he did in the past."

He glanced at Zeus, his expression hardening. "But Zeus… Zeus is something else entirely. You, the so-called King of the Gods, who cheats on your wife time and time again, who harms those who are loyal to you, and who punishes others for your own mistakes. You've caused so much pain, yet you never face the consequences of your actions. You've even harassed and tormented those who are supposed to be under your protection, and for what? Power? Control? It's disgusting."

Alexander's gaze didn't waver from Zeus as he spoke, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. "Zeus, you've done things that no god should ever do, and you never take responsibility for them. It's beyond hypocritical, and frankly, it's a disgrace to the title you hold."

Alexander's piercing gaze turned toward Athena, his expression firm yet composed. "And you, Athena, you asked me why I respect some gods over others. You want my answer?"

He paused for a moment, his tone softening as he spoke with a rare reverence. "For me, Lady Hestia is one of the most respectable gods I've ever known. Why? Because, unlike most of you, she understands what true sacrifice means. To avoid conflicts, to maintain harmony, she willingly stepped down from her throne on Olympus. She gave up her seat of power, not out of weakness, but out of strength—strength to prioritize peace over pride. And for what? To make room for a god of revelry, a wine god, Dionysus, so that balance could be maintained."

His words carried a quiet admiration, resonating even among the gods. Alexander's gaze hardened again as he addressed Athena directly. "That is why I respect her. Not because she flaunts her power or seeks to prove herself, but because she acts with true wisdom and humility—qualities that seem so rare among the so-called mighty Olympians."

The room was heavy with silence, a mixture of awe, discomfort, and tension filling the air. Hestia, seated quietly at the hearth, gave Alexander a small, kind smile, her warm eyes reflecting gratitude. Athena, on the other hand, clenched her jaw, her pride stung by the sharp contrast Alexander had drawn.

Alexander's gaze shifted toward Apollo, his tone filled with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "And then there's you, Apollo. The god of medicine, fate, truth, knowledge, and the sun—yet you're bound by these laws. You see everything, the truth of their lives, the light that could save them, yet you're powerless to protect them."

His voice grew more intense, his words laced with emotion. "You can cure their wounds, guide them toward knowledge, even shield them from illness, but you can't save them from fate. Because these laws, these ancient, restrictive laws, prevent you from acting. It's cruel, Apollo. You, of all gods, shouldn't have to stand by helplessly, knowing what will happen to them, unable to change a single thing."

The room grew quieter as Alexander's words hung in the air. Even Apollo, who was usually calm and composed, seemed to falter for a moment. His golden eyes softened with an expression of quiet sorrow as he looked down, the weight of Alexander's words clearly affecting him.

For a moment, the gods were silent, reflecting on the deep truth of what Alexander had said. The pain of Apollo's predicament, a god with such power yet so helpless when it came to his own children, was a bitter truth no one could deny.

Alexander's voice softened as he spoke of Hades, the words carrying a deeper weight of empathy and understanding. "Then, you have my favorite—Lord Hades. Ostracized simply because he's the god of the underworld. His children, too, have been ostracized, cast aside, and even killed because of their connection to him. It's absurd."

He paused for a moment, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in before continuing. "And it's not just that. He can't even be with his wife for half of the year, a painful separation he has to endure alone."

Alexander looked around at the gods, his gaze steady but filled with a quiet frustration. "It's ironic, really. It could have been Zeus or Poseidon who got the underworld, but by chance, it was Hades. And what does he do? He doesn't complain or throw tantrums like his brothers would have. He just... accepts it. He takes his role seriously, governs with wisdom, and bears the weight of it all without a single word of protest."

A rare moment of silence filled the room, as the gods seemed to ponder the depth of Alexander's insight. Even Hades himself, sitting quietly, appeared to appreciate the understanding that Alexander had shown toward his burden, a burden that was often misunderstood or ignored by the others.

"Lord Hades," Alexander continued, his tone firm but respectful, "is the most undeserving of the disrespect he gets. He may rule the underworld, but he does it with dignity and integrity, unlike many of you who squander your positions and powers."

"Lastly, you have my friend Artemis, who, though she may have done some things in the past that weren't perfect, has always remained true to her principles. She's dedicated herself to helping young maidens, offering them protection and guidance as they navigate their own struggles. Even though she doesn't seek redemption for every past mistake, she at least works every day to make the world a better place for those she cares for."

"Unlike some of you, Artemis is one of the few who doesn't just sit on a throne or use her power to manipulate. She has made her own sacrifices, and she's never backed down from what she believes in. That's the kind of god I can respect."

Alexander finished his speech, his voice unwavering as he expressed his respect for the gods he believed were worthy of it. His eyes flicked over the assembly of Olympians, a challenge hanging in the air.

Ares' face twisted with anger as Alexander finished, and he couldn't hold back any longer. His voice boomed with fury.

"Well, you respect four small gods, but you dare insult me, the god of war?" Ares snarled, standing up from his throne. His form grew larger, his aura of power radiating in the chamber. "I shall not stay idle and let you mock me. Prepare to feel the wrath of the god of war!"

Before anyone could react, Ares jumped from his throne, the sheer force of his movement shaking the air. He landed with a heavy thud on the floor, his massive sword now drawn and raised high. The blade gleamed with a deadly, red glow, a weapon forged for nothing but destruction.

"You want to disrespect me, mortal?" Ares hissed, his voice cold and full of venom. "I'll show you why they call me the god of war. You think you can stand against me? Then let's see what you're made of."

The gods watched in stunned silence, some with their eyes wide in shock, others with smirks on their faces, as the tension in the room escalated. Alexander stood firm, unwavering in the face of Ares' fury.

"Bring it on," Alexander said with a defiant smile, ready for whatever came next.

The room was on edge, the air crackling with the promise of battle as Ares prepared to strike, and Alexander steeled himself for what would come next.

As soon as Alexander's words left his mouth, an eerie silence fell over the room. The gods looked at him in utter disbelief. The very air seemed to shift, tension rising to an almost unbearable level.

"You're ready to fight the god of war?" Ares growled, his grip tightening around his sword. His eyes flickered with both rage and amusement, unsure whether to be enraged or impressed by the audacity of the mortal standing before him.

Alexander, unfazed, met Ares' glare with fierce resolve. "What, you think I'm scared of you?" His voice was steady, filled with a fire that matched even the god's fury. "I've read about you. You're just another god in a long line of gods. You're not invincible. Not all gods are like legends say, and not all of you are untouchable. You're not anything different from any other being."

Ares' eyes narrowed in disbelief, but Alexander continued.

"I'm not just ready to fight you, Ares," he said, his tone cutting through the room like a blade. "I'm ready to kill you."

The words echoed, leaving the gods frozen. Ares' fury boiled over, but for the first time, doubt crept into his mind. He had never been spoken to like this, not even by the greatest warriors he had ever faced.

The room was filled with confusion and shock. The gods were not used to such boldness, especially not from someone who had no divine blood coursing through his veins. To them, Alexander was a mortal—a mere demigod. How could he possibly believe he could kill one of them?

Ares stepped forward, his form towering and imposing, but Alexander didn't flinch. His eyes were locked on the god of war, unwavering, his words cutting through the silence like the sharpest of weapons.

"I'm not scared of death," Alexander said, his voice now steady with conviction. "And I'm not scared of you."

The gods exchanged looks of astonishment. Artemis, from her throne, could see the fire in Alexander's eyes—the same fire she had seen in only the most determined heroes. The room's tension heightened, and even the most powerful gods could sense it. Something was different about this demigod, and they weren't sure if they were ready to face it.

Before Ares could even make a move, Artemis leapt from her throne, her feet landing softly on the marble floor. She moved swiftly, stepping between Alexander and Ares, her eyes burning with the same intensity that had always made her a formidable force.

"I won't let you kill my friend, Ares," she said, her voice sharp, but with an undeniable protective edge. Her stance was firm, a clear barrier between the god of war and the bold demigod who dared challenge him.

Ares halted mid-step, a mix of surprise and frustration washing over his face. He glared at Artemis, his grip on his sword tightening. "You would stand in my way, Artemis? For a mortal?" His tone was full of disdain, but there was also an edge of uncertainty. He knew better than to underestimate the goddess of the hunt.

"I'm not just any mortal," Alexander spoke up, his voice full of defiance, as he shifted slightly, refusing to back down. "I'm more than that, Ares. And Artemis knows that."

Artemis stood tall, her expression unwavering. "This is not the way. This child—" she paused, looking at Alexander for a moment, her gaze softening slightly, "—has more courage and strength than many of the gods in this room. You will not harm him, not as long as I stand here."

The other gods watched, some with surprise, others with tension, as the moment hung in the air. Even Ares seemed to pause, his fury momentarily stalled by Artemis' resolute stance.

"Move aside, Artemis," Ares growled, his voice low with frustration. "I don't care for your soft words. He has insulted the gods, and that is not something I will tolerate."

Artemis' eyes flashed with anger, but her resolve remained. "You're not going to kill him, Ares. Not today. Not while I stand here."

For a moment, it seemed as if the room was holding its breath, waiting for one of the gods to make the next move. Artemis' stance was unwavering, and Alexander, despite the imminent danger, stood his ground. It was clear: this wasn't just a battle of strength, but a battle of wills—and Artemis had chosen her side.

Before the tension could escalate any further, Zeus raised his hand, his voice booming with authority that immediately silenced the room. "Enough," he commanded, his gaze turning toward Alexander, eyes filled with both fury and grudging respect. "Let's stop all this. It's clear you've made your stance known."

He turned slightly to address the room, his voice softer but no less commanding. "You don't want to go to the camp half blood? Fine. You won't be bothered." His eyes shifted back to Alexander, hard and calculating. "But remember, you'll help when the time comes. That's the agreement."

Alexander stood firm, his expression unwavering. "As long as needed, I'll help my friends when they need me. As for the rest of you..." He shrugged nonchalantly, his voice colder now, "I couldn't care less."

The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment before Artemis, who had been quietly observing the exchange, spoke up, her tone thoughtful. "Oh, I have an idea," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You say you want to travel the world, to see new things, experience life outside your forest. Why not join my hunt? You'll see the world, learn what it means to be free, and help others along the way."

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment, a spark of possibility lighting in the room. Artemis' eyes were warm as she spoke, a glimmer of hope in her words. "You could join us, Alexander. See the world on your terms. You'll be free, and we'll always have your back."

Zeus gave a quick glance at Artemis, a frown tugging at his brow, but he remained silent, as if curious to see how Alexander would respond.

Alexander's expression softened as he looked at Artemis. "Sure, why not?" he said, his voice a little lighter than before. "I mean, after all, you are my friend. Well, my only friends, which makes you my best friend. And from what I read in the book, traveling the world with your best friends is one of the best things in the world."

Artemis smiled, her eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and warmth. "Then it's settled," she said, her tone reassuring. "You'll join the hunt, and we'll travel together. There's a whole world out there waiting for us."

Zeus, though still carrying a certain weight in his gaze, nodded as well, seemingly accepting the outcome. The atmosphere in the room shifted from tension to something a little more relaxed, though the presence of the gods still held a formidable air.

"You're part of something greater now, Alexander," Zeus warned, his voice authoritative. "But remember your place.Or else next time i won'tbe this lenient, today Artemis's friendship save you."

Ares grumbled under his breath, though the situation had defused somewhat. Meanwhile, Artemis's smile widened, clearly pleased with Alexander's decision. "We'll make a hunter out of you yet."

And so, Alexander found himself on a path he hadn't expected — but one that was full of promise and possibilities, ready to explore the world with the only friend he'd known.