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Chapter Text

HERA

A silent tear made its way down the queen’s cheek. The scene was no surprise to her, of course. What she had once believed to be an act of betrayal, a response to an argument- she now knew to be a careless feat of habit.

Her husband’s lips made their way down the maiden’s neck.

Hera stared.

The mirror shook in her hands. It was beautifully crafted, with a slender golden handle; delicately engraved peacock feathers surrounding the glass. A gift, from her most talented son. She supposed the ache in her chest was her fault, she had requested the mirrors properties after all. It had been fashioned at the height of Hera’s jealousy, and she had demanded a tool that would alert her of the king’s infidelity.

But through the years, the queens once infamous envy had dulled. The vengeful knot around her heart had unraveled, had melted to the deep sorrow now residing in her bones. Where a passionate fire had once burned, tearing through her lungs and stinging her eyes- an empty hollowness replaced it. The deeds that had once stirred a fury that could level cities, now wrapped her in suffocating hopelessness.

The maiden moaned.

Hera turned her gaze.

Once upon a time, that had been her. Radiant with youth, brimming with hope for her future. The same man with his hands on another’s hips had once cherished the queen, had declared her more precious than any other beneath the sun.

Hera’s eyes danced across the mirror- analyzing details, separating the unique from the familiar. An old habit of hers, picking apart the treacherous moment to its bare essentials. But with each examination, under her unwavering scrutiny, anguish seeped slowly through her chest. Misery crept into each of her pores, humiliation snaking its way around her heart. The feeling of being unwanted settled deep within her soul.

She set the mirror down.

The queen took a deep breath, shifting her gaze to the ceiling. For the first time in a long time, a true despondency washed over her. The sorrow that had often nagged her conscious filled her being.

Her husband was no longer hers. He hadn’t been in a long time.

Hera stood. While this idea wasn’t new to her, its establishment as a fact was. The uncomfortable finality of the idea, that she had been fighting a lost battle for centuries, was suffocating. She had to get out, had to breathe. Her feet moved almost of their own accord, taking the queen down the familiar path to her sanctuary.

Her garden.

This place was sacred to Hera. Entry was granted only to her, or those she invited. So far, Hera was the only visitor the garden knew. She tapped twice on the worn maple door, which opened easily to her touch. She stepped into the cool night air, the grass soft as velvet beneath her feet. Almost instantly, peace washed over the queen. Although still lost in a sea of anguish, her mind was now above water.

Hera walked slowly through her garden, unpinning her chocolate curls in one elegant motion. A light breeze tickled her legs, and the queen was enamored by the nostalgia of the moment. The featherweight of her nightshift, combined with the tickle of loose hair around her shoulders and the quiet hum of evening, reminded her of simpler times.

Of times when it was merely Hera, and the world.

Her footsteps were soft as she wandered through the roses, making her way to the golden apple tree found at the center of her garden. The guardian serpent, Ladon, raised his head in greeting. Gently, the queen ran her fingers over his scales, murmuring a hello before she began to climb. With a practiced elegance, Hera ascended, planting her hands and feet securely along the bark. Never did she feel as free as this, spending time in nature reminded her of her youth. Hera laid back against a sturdy branch, folding her arms beneath her head. The stars twinkled above her as a million recollections of nights under clear skies flooded the queen’s mind.

She thought of her family, of her siblings. The original six Olympians, who fought day in and day out to end their father’s tyranny. Technically, they were unrelated- as deities, they had no traceable bloodline, existing instead as a reflection of their domains. But formalities aside, the six had been the very definition of the word. They were as tightly bound as fine cloth, each one looking beyond themselves to a greater goal.

Hestia, patient and kindhearted.

Demeter, quick witted and fiercely protective.

Hades, thoughtful and wise.

Poseidon, loyal and recklessly passionate.

Hera herself.

And Zeus.

Memories swamped her. A hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her through her father’s palace. A stranger- tall, with dark curls and icy blue eyes. Hera had been the last one out, pulled to her feet unceremoniously, not at all like the rescue she imagined. Zeus ran with her, his hand in hers as she first laid eyes on the sky.

How had her hero become a badge of her failures?

The queen was crying. Scenes of her marriage flashed through her mind. The wedding, the honeymoon, the first fight.

The first betrayal.

Her anger, his indifference.

His malice, her wrath.

Their fights were a whirlwind of vicious words, hatred packed into every remark. They were ruthless, untouchable. Unable to be subdued, and too proud to back down.

A king and a queen- broken.

Hera sobbed. She pressed her cheek into the bark of the branch, tears running steadily down her cheeks. Her thoughts were rampant now, pelting her psyche with doubt and guilt.

How had she, goddess of marriage and family, ended up in a disaster of each? Her union was a complete failure, and her family- well, wasn’t any better. Rarely, Hera spoke to her siblings. Years of arguments and distance had driven them apart. The Olympian council consisted largely of her husband’s illegitimate children, and Hera’s own spite had prevented any chance of bonding. Her own daughters were largely forgotten, Ares was rarely home, and the queen had ruined any relationship with Hephaestus.

And it was all her fault.

The thought settled in the pit of her stomach, guilt coiling through her body. Shakily, Hera stilled. Her cries were replaced with a dull numbness, defeat settling into her bones.

“How strange,” She mused. “Immortal, with nothing to live for.”

Hera relaxed against the tree, wiping the remaining wetness from her face. She was tired of fighting. The passion that had fueled her, that kept her clawing for stability, had crumbled. Her mind drifted to Themis. One of Zeus’ prior wives, a being of patience and counsel. She had been consistently agreeable and levelheaded, a foil to Hera’s fiery nature.

A stray tear carved a path over her cheek. A final, bitter thought crossed her conscious before she fell victim to sleep.

Perhaps, Themis had always been the better choice.

Chapter Text

Sunlight filtered through the window, casting light across the king’s face. He blinked slowly, taking in his surroundings. A humble home, he guessed, a few rooms at most. Cozily decorated, with flowers growing in the window. Zeus laid his head back against the pillow, piecing together the night before. A village maiden had caught his eye, her coy disposition piquing the king’s interest. A smile tugged at his lips. How soft her hair had been, chocolate locks coiled through his fingers; her emerald eyes hooded with pleasure. He breathed deeply, the maidens perfume drifting over him.

His eyes snapped open.

Roses.

Hera.

The king swore under his breath. It was already well past dawn; he should have been home hours ago. Quietly, he rushed to dress, pressing a featherlight kiss to the maiden’s forehead before dissolving into a golden light.

Zeus fizzled into form in his bedroom, already forming explanations for where he could have been. When he turned, however, the room was empty. He listened for sound from the bath, but heard nothing. Hera must have already prepared for the day. With a defeated sigh, the king ran his tongue along his teeth. She would’ve noticed his absence; he was bound to receive a tongue lashing for it later. He made his way to the shower, thankful for the comfort the warm water provided. Zeus scrubbed his face, attempting to clear his mind. He would deal with it later. It was obvious that Hera knew what he had done; he’d simply have to face the music.

The king sighed, rinsing his hair absentmindedly. He always hated this part. As terrible of a spouse he was, he hated to see his wife in pain. The way her lip trembled, hot tears leaving streaks along her face.

Zeus knew it all by heart.

The exact way her voice cracked as she lost control. How screams would turn to pleas, to desperation. Her form would glow, the divinity within her agitated by her pain. Hera burned with passion and need, all in hope to find the man she married.

He hated her defeat most of all. Watching his wife collapse onto herself- trading ferocity for resignation, was the most painful part of their arguments. It was almost enough to make him quit his affairs completely. Nevertheless, the patterns persisted, and he would continue to break her heart.

A lump lodged in his throat. Zeus was no fool, he knew how his actions hurt her. The adultery he committed was a blow to everything Hera represented, his errors an offense to the very core of her being. As much grief as her heartbreak caused him, it seemed he couldn’t stop straying from their bed. He felt as if he was a slave to his libido, blinded by sex and a reckless lack of commitment. A few times, he had gotten close. The king had been able to devote energy and attention to his union, resulting in some of the happiest points of his life. But bliss never seemed to last very long. A bad day, an argument later, and he had found his way to another. A never-ending cycle of betrayal.

He turned the water off. This kind of thinking was easier to forget. If he dwelled on these ideas too long- of hurting her, of losing her- he would never be able to focus. Sometimes, he wondered how his brother did it. Hades, patient and reliable, had remained unquestionably devoted. He knew Hera had blessed their marriage, but even her strongest magic couldn’t prevent conflict. Truthfully, Zeus was jealous. He heard the comments of mortal women, reflecting on how unbelievably well the fearsome Hades treated his wife. More often, he overheard the comparisons. Of how women would gladly remain in the underworld, if it meant loyalty and respect from their husbands.

He saw it in his own wife.

Her affectionate glances towards the couple during the solstice. The way she’d pardon herself to go and check up on the pair. Her longing expression as Hades whispered endearments to his queen.

Zeus leaned against the counter, lifting his head to look at his reflection. He scanned over his face, trying to discern the man he had become. Eventually, his gaze settled on his own eyes.

Just like his fathers.

The king grimaced. He had become more like Kronos than he cared to admit. His temper, adultery, and pride were all traits the two shared. Tiredly, he rubbed his beard. “Fates,” he muttered. “I swore I wouldn’t turn into this.” Zeus ran a hand through his hair, emotion building inside him. “I promised I’d never turn into him!” A hand slammed down against the counter. He was unnerved now, wild eyed as he searched for answers in the mirror. What had he become? He was a tyrant, a failure. A poor father and a worse husband. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. This always happened when he thought too much. Leaning down, he splashed his face in the sink. He’d block it out, same as always.

He was king. He had an image to uphold.

Zeus exhaled. He needed something else to focus on, it was too early for this. He busied himself with getting ready for the day, combing his hair back before heading to his office. Truthfully, he expected Hera to burst in, to demand an explanation. But Zeus found himself undisturbed hours later- a pile of completed documents stacked on his desk. He had read every letter, answered all the requests and notices accumulated in his inbox. With nothing left to do, he fidgeted at his desk. This wasn’t what he had expected. He would have preferred to be interrupted by what he knew was coming, rather than sit in his own building anxiety. Sighing, he stood. The confrontation was coming sooner or later, and he would face it head on. Zeus strengthened his resolve and left the office in search of his wife.

And search, he did. He checked the library, her study, every room she frequented in the palace. He asked the servants, and the nymphs, anyone that may have seen her. With no indication of Hera’s whereabouts, the king headed toward the only place she could be- her garden. His footsteps echoed through the marble halls, a subtle fear wrapping its way around his heart. Had she had enough? Left him for another? Dread curled in his stomach, even as he tried to squash the feeling. She wouldn’t. It’s against her nature. Regardless, he hurried his steps, eventually coming to a halt at the entrance to their room. The king paused, and sent a quick prayer to the fates before opening the door.

Zeus breathed a sigh of relief as he laid eyes on Hera. She was sitting in the window seat, pouring over letters. Hera was here. Of course she was here, he had overreacted. That was all. He cleared his throat. “I have been looking for you.”

She turned her gaze towards him, delicately arching an eyebrow. “Oh?” Hera folded the letters neatly in her lap, attention now directed to her husband. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to conceal myself. What can I do for you?”

He was taken aback. Something was wrong- it had to be. Hera- his Hera- was not a docile creature. She was fiery, and far too attentive not to notice his absence the night before. Yet here she sat, the same brown curls and freckles he had known for centuries, soft green eyes turned towards him and devoid of any emotion. Zeus swallowed. “I- I haven’t seen you all day, I was worried.”

Hera tilted her head, gesturing to the letters in her hand. “I spent most of the day in my garden, answering blessings. Is there something you needed me for?”

Her remark may have been considered biting, were it not for the gentle tone she used. The kings mind was reeling, desperately trying to piece together what had changed. She knew what he had done. She always knew. Was he being tricked? Was this a plot to expose him as a fool? He licked his lips. To question her demeaner would expose his actions; to dismiss it would gain him no answers. He straightened, preparing for her anger. “You aren’t… upset? About anything?”

She exhaled, turning towards the window. Zeus’ heart sank. Hera knew. He expected she would. What he didn’t expect, however, was her reaction. The queen met his gaze once more, no malice or anger behind her expression. Her voice was soft, void of the infamous passion she once possessed. “I’ve done some thinking, and. . . my nagging does us no good. It isn’t my place to police your actions, you’re as grown as I, and free to do as you please.”

The silence in the room was deafening. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. After centuries of fighting, Hera had accepted his behavior. Years of arguments, betrayals, vengeance- and his wife was setting him free. Zeus had only imagined this day, wished for it in the heat of their quarrels. What he hadn’t anticipated, was the crushing guilt that surrounded him. To see his wife, his fire, resign herself to his adultery- was unnerving. He was stunned.

Hera offered a faint smile, setting her work aside and standing. “You’ve had a long day, dear, why don’t we turn in for the night?” Gently, she brushed her thumb across his cheek, turning and making her way towards the bed. He watched her, shocked into silence. Numbly, he undressed, sliding under the covers and taking his place beside Hera. She murmured a goodnight, her back to Zeus. He hummed a reply, a million thoughts swimming through his mind. What had happened? He thought back to the maiden, unable to place anything that made her different. Was there another man? Had he gone too far?

He froze, biting the inside of his cheek. Of course. He had strayed, hundreds, maybe even thousands, of times through their marriage. How long had it been since she had given up? He replayed their conversation once, twice, ten times in his mind. Her defeated expression, the pain in her eyes . . . he had caused. Zeus had broken her. Panic welled in his chest. Without question, this was his own doing. What a fool he had been, seeking temporary comfort in his conquests. He had used them. Fell into different beds instead of facing his mistakes, called for attention with his debauchery. Coward. He grimaced. Finally, his behavior had caught up to him. His queen, the woman he loved- no, needed- more than anything else on the planet, no longer fought for him. The king swallowed, slowly wrapping an arm around her waist.

What had he done?