When he heard mention of the Twelve Olympians, Zeus's first reaction was a righteous, indignant rebuttal.
"No, you are mistaken, wizard. The entire Greek pantheon, the Twelve Olympians of Olympus, are they not all my kin?
Are they not my sisters, my queen, my children? Do you expect me, a god-king, to betray my own family?"
Alaric merely smiled at Zeus's questioning, utterly unconcerned.
"No, honored King of the Gods, of course I would not expect you to bear the stain of betraying your own blood.
But… if there were a god among them who shared no kinship with the rest, one who has long harbored resentment toward Your Majesty, if it were that god, then perhaps the King of the Gods could permit her to serve under Lady Hecate's banner instead."
"This…" Zeus hesitated at Alaric's suggestion.
Going to war with Hecate was something he wished to avoid at all costs.
With the current strength of the Olympians, facing this goddess who still held much of her power in reserve, the result would only be disastrous defeat.
Even if they weren't utterly annihilated, Olympus would surely lose its dominance over the Greek divine realm.
But to hand over a fellow Olympian to Hecate's camp, that too was something he loathed.
Not because he was as righteous as he claimed, nor because he truly cherished his family.
It was because kinship itself formed the intricate web that bound Olympus together.
Everyone was family, and so even disputes never went so far as to tear the pantheon apart. Relying on ties of blood and kin, Zeus had been able to maintain his throne.
Even if many Olympians were distant from him, in the eyes of those watching from the shadows, such as the remaining Titans, Zeus was a dangerous figure, for so many of his children held the power of high gods themselves.
Kinship was the foundation of his rule. But now, it was also a cage.
If he were to personally cast away a sister or daughter into Hecate's hands, it would mean kinship could no longer be trusted.
Once broken, Olympus would collapse from within, and Zeus's authority would crumble with it.
He knew full well upon what his throne rested.
Yet, if there truly existed such a god, one who shared no blood ties, one who bore grievances, then sending her to Hecate's side would not be such a bitter pill.
Sacrificing an outsider to protect one's own was natural, even justifiable.
Later he could even claim: it was this god who betrayed Olympus of her own accord, and out of past consideration, the Olympians had reluctantly agreed.
So then… was there such a god?
Zeus pondered, and of course, there was.
Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty.
Though she was born from the essence of Uranus, Zeus's grandfather, she had no kinship with the Olympians by blood.
She was, in truth, an outsider who joined them midway.
As for grievances…
Zeus felt a sting of embarrassment even thinking of it, but they undeniably existed.
Though she agreed to wed Hephaestus and became his daughter-in-law, she despised him utterly.
According to Hephaestus's own bitter complaints, he had never once even touched her.
This humiliation had made him, and, by extension, Olympus itself, a laughingstock.
Zeus himself did not even reproach her for this. For it was not just Hephaestus, every suitor had been refused by her.
The goddess hailed as the most beautiful of all remained chaste, and in Zeus's eyes, that was nothing short of a cosmic joke.
But the joke had become truth, and it gave her an aura of moral superiority among the gods.
Even Hera would often mock Zeus over this, calling him a lust-driven fool without a shred of true love.
Compared to the goddess who herself embodied love, Zeus was the very opposite extreme.
Such a troublesome figure, sending her to Hecate seemed far from a bad idea.
And so, Zeus made his decision.
"You mean the goddess of love and beauty, Aphrodite? If it is her, then perhaps I could consider it. Of course, it would depend on her own will."
"Of course," Alaric nodded. "Then, Your Majesty may ask her yourself. Whether there is war or peace lies entirely in your choice."
With that, Zeus temporarily broke off the negotiations and returned to his gods.
He repeated the terms that Alaric and Hecate had laid down.
Though there were some murmurs over surrendering half their treasury, most agreed.
After all, though the treasure was nominally the pantheon's, in practice it had always been Zeus's private hoard.
To see another's wealth paid as reparations hardly stirred resentment.
Then came the matter of Aphrodite.
Here, Zeus played a small trick. He did not say that Hecate had asked for any Olympian goddess to join her. Instead, he claimed that she had specifically demanded Aphrodite.
Now, the weight of the decision fell squarely on her shoulders.
Men are selfish, and so are gods.
Few would willingly sacrifice themselves for the sake of others, yet most would welcome another's sacrifice if it meant their own survival.
Still, no god would openly point at one of their own and declare them expendable, it would shatter the façade of noble unity.
But Zeus had already made that choice for them.
The question was no longer "who?" but "yes or no."
And then, with feigned solemnity, Zeus turned to Aphrodite and said, "If you are unwilling, then so be it.
Even if Olympus is destroyed to the last, we will never bow to Hecate."
Looking at Zeus's righteous face, Aphrodite's heart turned cold.
He did not know, Aphrodite had already aligned herself with the other side.
When Alaric and Zeus began their negotiations, he had long since cast a spell of mental linkage, allowing Aphrodite to share his perspective. She knew exactly what the original terms had been.
Though she had never thought much of Zeus or Olympus, his reaction still left her bitterly disappointed.
"So it is true. In their eyes, I have always been nothing more than an outsider."
She was silent for a long time. Then, at last, she spoke.
Her voice carried no emotion at all:
"I accept the condition."