Athena sighed as she bent over, her fingers brushing the dusty floor in search of the white ball of wool. Upon finding it, she stood and walked from her spinning wheel to the loom, where a magnificent weaving hung. It was folded on the floor behind the loom, so great it was. Beginning in magnificent colours, it slowly faded to grey, and now to white. Her fingers racing, Athena let her thoughts run back to familiar times as she wove the newly spun wool into her final masterpiece.

Her defeat of Poseidon…

Arachnae…

Troy and Odysseus' long journey…

The binding of Zeus…

Athens…

And finally…

They were all gone, all but her and Hades. They had slowly disappeared, one by one, as man forgot and moved on. Now, Hades too was leaving. She, who had borne the departure of her father, his wife and children, of her family without tears (for she had been made to be perfect in composure and temper) felt the treacherous tears of despair trickle down her face. Hades looked away; the fearsome god of the dead could not bear the sight of a woman crying.

"I cannot stay," he repeated. "I told Zeus that I would give up my immortality if I could not have Persephone as wife; now that she has been forced to go, I cannot remain. Would you have me remain, falling deeper and deeper into myself, into despair and gloom, only to have it spread to man, killing their hope of another life? Think, Athena, soon you too will be able to leave. This must happen."

"I know," was all she could say. Hades sighed; he would have to be happy with that.

"Apollo's last prophecy was for you," he said softly, "Lest remain dimly remembered, let your fingers race, show man's folly and admit yours."

"Thank you…" she whispered, and Hades, his head bowed, walked away.

The loom clacked for the last time. The weaving was done; her trial was finished. She laid the tapestry out across her floor and stared at it. The beginning told the story of the ages of men, of gold to silver to iron; then the colours began to fade as man moved on, slow bit by slow bit. Soon there was only grey, which faded to pure, pristine white.

"Paint your own story upon it," she said to the men who could not hear her, "Your folly was to forget, but mine was to be such that I was remembered."

She looked down, turning her mouth down as she watched a massacre take place over religion, and then turned away. A door was waiting for her, one that had never been there before.

Athena walked through, not looking back, no longer concerned for the fate of man.

--

The repository of lost gods saw many feasts and banquets each night. It was a place where there was no need for power struggles, for quarrels. It was a happy peace, full of laughter and singing, and perhaps more than a little drunken carousing.

The open courtyard held the banquet of the Greek gods. The Muses sang, and the Graces danced along with Artemis and Aphrodite, and Hebe was cupbearer for the gods, except for Zeus, upon whom Ganymede served. The call for Apollo to play his lyre was made, but the golden god just shook his head, saying,

"Not tonight." Everyone groaned in mock seriousness, and Apollo smiled, if a little sadly. When everyone had returned to their cups and stories, he stood and left, nodding as he passed Hades and Persephone.

They smiled at each other, their knowing expressions hidden behind their cups. They knew why Apollo refused to play, why he left each night before the feasting had finished. They even knew where he went to.

Eros, the divine spark of the world, had struck once more.

Apollo sat next the gate to the repository, which was forever locked to him. He could never walk back through to the world of man, but he did not want to; he was waiting for someone to come through the gates, to come to the repository.

He was not sure when it had happened, but something had happened between him and Athena. It was before the gods had begun to disappear, and he knew that she had felt the something as well; neither of them had done anything though. She was a virgin goddess, and he had horrible luck with lovers. They either were killed by a jealous onlooker or turned into vegetation. But now, now was different. There were no stories to live up to, and no one followed the traditions any more; well, except for Artemis.

But Artemis is a little odd, he thought to himself. Even Hera stopped fighting Zeus all the time, and that is something.

So he came each night, hoping that Athena would appear, and that maybe that something would be able to come out.

--

Athena looked at the hand that had suddenly appeared before her. There was a terrible flight of stairs leading upward from the door, and her head was down as she scaled them. Looking up, she saw the smiling face that the hand belonged too. Smiling in return, she placed her own hand on his and allowed him to lead her to a small garden to the left of the gate and its dreadful stairs.

--

Cheers rose from the table as the two entered the courtyard. The Muses and Graces raced forward to embrace Athena, welcoming her. Aphrodite and Hera's welcome was a little more reserved, as were the others', but she knew that they were happy to have her among them again. Zeus beamed upon his daughter, wrought from his mind, proud of her ability to find her way to the repository on her own.

Apollo sat on the bench near where the Graces had danced and pulled his lyre out. A gasp of delight rose, only to be pushed down as he ran his fingers over the strings. The first song he played, no one sang or danced. Then the Muses sprang up, lending their voices, and the Graces shifted themselves, weaving beautifully to his song. Soon Artemis and Aphrodite, even Hebe and Persephone, and finally Athena joined them.

Apollo played on into the night, finishing only when Zeus rose, his queen on his arm. The couple beamed at those around them and slowly drifted inside. Everyone resumed talking, telling stories too juicy to be told around Father Zeus and his wife and that needed to be told before the night ended. Apollo stood, unnoticed, and walked over to Athena. The two left quietly, noticed only by the knowing eyes of Hades and Persephone.