The halls toward Metis's chamber were quieter than Hera's, but not empty.
He could hear them before he saw them—whispers and tension. The weight of waiting. When he turned the corner, the family was there.
Oceanus stood by the marble pillar with folded arms, his face carved from salt and storm. Tethys was pacing, eyes sharp like blades hiding behind age and calm. Dione leaned against the wall, face unreadable, while Eurynome simply looked down, shaking her head slowly.
They all turned the moment Zeus stepped into view.
And no one bowed.
Tethys stepped forward first, her voice sharp. "Now you come?"
Zeus didn't flinch. Didn't slow.
"You vanished," Oceanus added, stepping in front of him. "She screamed your name during the worst of it. And you were nowhere."
Still, Zeus didn't stop walking.
Dione scoffed. "Your first child with a true wife, and you were off playing Godking."
He brushed past Oceanus without a glance, eyes locked ahead.
