"I was fortunate to receive some education before entering divine service," he said, the explanation ready on his tongue. "The son of a scholar who fell on hard times. I find comfort in remembering my father's teachings."
Athena's lips curved slightly—not quite a smile, for the goddess of wisdom rarely displayed such casual emotions. "How fortunate indeed. Tell me, educated servant, what do you know of the Olympian Academy?"
The question landed like a thunderbolt on a clear day. Of all the topics she might have raised, she had selected the very institution occupying his thoughts.
"Only rumors, My Lady," he answered truthfully. "That it gathers the children of gods and other extraordinary beings for education in divine arts."
"Simplified, but essentially correct." Athena tapped her spear butt against the marble, creating a sound like distant thunder. "The Academy requires not just students but support staff as well. Servants of unusual capability and discretion."
Donatos felt the conversation shifting beneath him like quicksand, leading toward an unexpected destination. "I imagine such positions are highly coveted."
"They are not offered based on covetousness but on suitability," Athena corrected. "I am assembling the servant corps personally. Your name has been mentioned."
"My name?" Donatos couldn't entirely mask his surprise. "I am honored beyond words, My Lady, but surely there are others more qualified."
"Perhaps." Athena studied him with that unsettling grey gaze. "Perhaps not. Intelligence is rare in any realm, mortal or divine. The ability to observe without being observed, to learn without revealing the learning—these are valuable traits for one who serves in an institution of godlings discovering their powers."
She was offering him exactly what he had been hoping to obtain—entrance to the Academy, access to its resources, proximity to other divine beings among whom his own developing power might go unnoticed. It was too perfect, too convenient.
And that made it dangerous.
"What would such a position entail?" he asked, buying time to assess her true intentions.
"You would serve directly under my authority, managing the household aspects of the Academy's main hall. Scheduling, organization, oversight of lesser servants. A position requiring both intelligence and discretion." She paused meaningfully. "Those who serve well at the Academy often find themselves elevated beyond their station."
The offer dangled before him like forbidden fruit—irresistible yet potentially poisonous. Was this truly random good fortune, or had he somehow revealed himself? Was Athena testing him, setting a trap for an entity she suspected but couldn't identify?
"I am deeply honored by your consideration, My Lady," he said, making his decision. "If you deem me worthy of such responsibility, I would strive to justify your faith."
"Excellent." Athena nodded once, decision made with characteristic efficiency. "You will depart for the Academy in three days. Prepare accordingly."
Without awaiting response, she turned and walked away, her form dissolving into a swirl of silver mist before she reached the courtyard entrance—a casual display of divine transportation that reminded Donatos just how powerful his potential adversary was.
He remained kneeling until he was certain of her departure, then slowly rose, his mind calculating implications and possibilities at lightning speed.
"The Academy," he whispered. "Delivered to me by Goddess Athena herself."
Either incredible fortune had smiled upon him, or he had walked willingly into an immortal's carefully laid trap.
Either way, the next phase of his journey now had a clear direction—the hallowed halls where godlings learned to become gods, and where, perhaps, a fallen deity could reclaim his rightful place in the cosmos.
Only time would tell whether he was predator or prey in this divine game of chess. But Donatos—Alexios—had always excelled at turning traps to his advantage.
*
The following day brought another shock that tested even his carefully constructed composure.
Assigned to inventory duty in a rarely-used storage vault, Donatos worked methodically through shelves of ancient artifacts deemed too minor for display but too significant to discard. Divine packrats, the gods accumulated treasures across millennia, often forgetting their existence entirely.
He lifted a covered object, checking it against his list. "Mirror of Narcissus, bronze frame, causes temporary self-obsession when gazed upon. Handle with protective gloves."
Setting it aside carefully, he reached for the next item—a small crystal flask containing what appeared to be liquid starlight. As his fingers closed around it, the vault door opened with a sound like ancient secrets being disturbed.
The figure who entered moved with the timeless grace of true immortality, her beauty so profound it transcended mere appearance to become almost a philosophical concept.
Golden hair with hidden pink caught light that didn't exist in the windowless vault, perfect features arranged in an expression of permanent gentle sorrow.
Aphrodite, Goddess of Love and Beauty. His mother.
Donatos immediately dropped to one knee, head bowed, heart hammering against his ribs. Of all the immortals he had carefully avoided, she presented the greatest danger. Divine parent and child shared bonds that transcended physical appearance or magical disguise.
"My Lady," he murmured, voice carefully modulated to reveal nothing. "This humble servant did not expect divine visitation to the archives today."
Aphrodite's gaze passed over him briefly, distracted by whatever purpose had brought her to this forgotten corner of Olympus. "Rise, mortal. I seek an item of personal significance and require no assistance."
He obeyed, keeping his eyes lowered, his illusion maintained with desperate intensity. Every instinct screamed danger as she moved past him, her divine aura washing over his concealed form like waves against a faltering dam.
She paused suddenly, her perfect brow furrowing in confusion. Turning back toward him, she studied him with new attention, her eyes—the same hypnotic blue his true form now possessed—narrowing slightly.
"Have we met before, servant?" she asked, her voice carrying notes that stirred mortal hearts to passion and divine hearts to envy.
"I do not believe so, Divine Lady," he answered, careful to keep his tone even. "I would remember such an honor."
She stepped closer, her head tilting slightly as one might when hearing a familiar melody played in an unexpected key. "Strange. Something about you seems..." She trailed off, unable to articulate the sensation.
Donatos maintained his deferential posture while inwardly reinforcing his illusion with desperate focus. Discovery now, by her of all people, would shatter everything.
"My apologies for the disturbance, Divine Lady," he said, gesturing toward the door. "Shall I return later to complete my work?"
Aphrodite continued studying him for several heartbeats longer before shaking her head slightly. "No. Remain. It is nothing." She turned away, moving toward a distant shelf. "Merely an echo of something lost."
The sadness in her voice struck him with unexpected force. This was the goddess who had raised him in another timeline, who had eventually died protecting him from divine wrath.
To see her haunted by his absence, to be the direct cause of her sorrow while standing before her, tested even his iron resolve.
He returned to his inventory, hands slightly unsteady as she searched quietly on the far side of the vault. Occasionally, he felt her gaze return to him, puzzled and searching, before pulling away again.
Finally, she located whatever she had sought—a small, ornate box that she pressed briefly to her heart before secreting it within the folds of her gown.
As she prepared to leave, she paused once more, looking back at him. "What is your name, servant?"
"Donatos, Divine Lady."
"Donatos," she repeated, as though testing the sound. "Should you ever..." She stopped, seemingly embarrassed by whatever she had been about to say. "Never mind. Continue your duties."
With that, she departed, leaving behind the lingering scent of roses and sea-foam.
Donatos released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his illusion wavering slightly before stabilizing once more. The encounter had been dangerous beyond measure yet strangely poignant. To be unknown to the being who had once loved him most in all creation—it carried a peculiar pain he hadn't anticipated.
"Better this way," he reminded himself firmly. "In my timeline, loving me destroyed her. This time, she remains safe in her ignorance."
He returned to his inventory, but his thoughts remained fixated on what had just occurred. She had sensed something—some echo or resonance that penetrated even his perfect disguise. The maternal bond transcended even time itself, it seemed.
A complication, but also confirmation. This body truly was her lost son, with him—Alexios—somehow inhabiting it through the Forbidden Time artifact's intervention. The threads of past and present, identity and purpose, wove together in patterns even he couldn't fully comprehend.
Three days until departure for the Academy. Three days to prepare for the next phase of his ascension. Three days to ensure that no one—not Athena with her penetrating wisdom, not Aphrodite with her maternal instinct—pierced the veil of his carefully constructed deception.
The game advanced to its next level, the stakes higher, the players more formidable. And Donatos—once Alexios, god-killer and divine son—stood at the center of it all, patient and calculating.
The end of servitude approached. The beginning of retribution drew near.