Chapter Text
~March 7, 1988~
Hi, Medea here.
No, not the Tyler Perry Medea. The Medea, as in Jason’s first wife. The princess who fell in love with the first man to give her attention, betray her home, murder her family, prop her husband on the throne, and then be betrayed by said husband who wants to marry a princess with “perks”, murder her and her family… and then my own family as well, again.
That Medea.
So suffice to say, after making my getaway from my husband - which sidenote, divorce wasn’t a thing so I’m technically a widow and not a divorcee - on the golden chariot of the sun pulled by two dragons no less, life took a bit of a, shall we say, downturn. When the whole world looks at you like a murderer instead of the victim of circumstance that you truly are, what are you supposed to do?
Granted, yes, I did kill my children, and my father, and my brother… and a whole lot - and I mean a lot - of other people, but think of the alternative why don’t you and why I had no choice in doing what I did.
Start from the beginning, think you’re me, little girl in Colchis who sees this man come from afar with a grand quest. And because Aphrodite has a serious shipping problem, your fragile teenage heart just can’t take it anymore. You know he’s going to die, so you help him at every turn. The quests, the dragon, the fleece.
They say people who share a trauma are bonded, even if they hate each other, they’ll be less likely to split, and boy did I have trauma.
So once all of that is done, of course my father is furious, and he wants me dead along with Jason. So I pull the ancient Greece equivalent of pulling a fast one and ducking out of dodge.
Jason and I marry, we have kids, I prop him up as king. And maybe murder my family and a few other slightly important figures.
I had thought we’d have the happiest life together, us and our two sons. Not fourteen like some myths purport, dear gods just the thought makes me feel light-headed and need to sit down. We had been happily married for about ten years… Then he wanted more.
The thing about my late-husband, gods I wish it was ex and not late, or former, or whatever, was he always wanted more. He wanted his kingdom, he wanted fame, and wanted glory.
But the thing about Jason is that he… didn’t quite have the capacity to do much. He wasn’t a demigod, he was a mortal prince at worst and a legacy at best. But despite being trained by Chiron, from what I’ve come to understand both after the whole… murder thing and living with him, was that Jason was at the back of the pack.
So to speak.
It’s like being the best player on the highschool team and then joining the proleague. Yeah, you’re better than ninety percent of the population at Sport, but you’re not the best.
And no so more than in heroes is this true.
Jason had no powers, just a lot of gumption and ambition. His lack of tangible divinity compensated with actual demigods. Look at any telling and there’s always someone with a name and a backstory.
Herakles!
Atalanta!
And every other Greek version of Tom, Dick, and Nancy.
Point is, Jason was the creme de la creme of mankind, but he was the weakest link of the Argonauts.
And when we were turned away from Iolchis, unable to secure his reign as king and instead sought shelter in Corinth, Jason plotted for the first time in his short miserable life.
And who did he turn on first? Who did he throw aside in pursuit of his ambitions?
Me.
The woman who had sacrificed everything for the man she loved, the man she thought she loved, the man a teenage girl had a celebrity crush on.
So I did what any angsty teen would do when her crush was unrequited.
Murdered the broad he was cheating on me with. Keep in mind, he didn’t want to just marry her as a second wife or make her a mistress or whatever. No, he wanted to make me the mistress. To make my children, because they were only ever his once they were gone and dead and his life was in shambles, bastards. Regarded as nothing more than Jason’s second sons, given grace and nobility through his true children.
Even now, the way he treated us like possessions, pieces on a chess board to be used to propel his social status, still made me sick.
I’m no peach either! Don’t get me wrong, still did murder.
And I am somewhat sorry for a portion of those murders.
But once you make those mistakes, good intentions or not, you get blacklisted from every social circle until all you have are the desperate and the dregs of society.
So I went underground, literally in some cases. Burying my hatred, both at the world and at myself for being so foolish and weak as to fall for a pair of pretty eyes, and trying to build my life from the ground up.
So here we are, a little bit over two thousands years later and what am I doing?
Running away again.
And.
I.
Was.
Pissed.
I had settled down, and recently gotten an english degree to add to my already long list of bachelors, doctorate, etc. I had just gotten an apartment by the beach in Montauk New York, started the first few pages on a drama based off of my disaster of a life (I know, been done before but shut up! I had a story to tell and still do as a matter of fact!)... and I guess I tried to move on and start dating...
Oh, and I had made the commitment to keeping a plant alive! A fricking plant!
But now?!
Now?!
Now I was running through my, as previously mentioned if you are paying attention, apartment trying to pack up everything important.
Monsters had been on the prowl. At first I thought they were after some other half blood, but no, they were after me. And I had no idea why.
Apparently my reputation was not enough to keep away most foolish herolings looking to make it big, but it wasn’t enough for monsters either.
But on the off chance it wasn’t my history and rap sheet miles long, I had to assume it was because I was a legacy, a granddaughter of the former sun titan, Helios.
I’d been in scraps before, one on one or one on many.
Normally, I’d coat a dagger in poison, grab my bandolier of tonics and toxins and get ready to fight. Most, heroes and monsters alike, would back off at the threat of a slow painful death that rendered them a sentient puddle of pudding for a few minutes before they shuffled off to Hades or Tartarus.
But in this case, I wasn’t so sure I could pull it off.
There were a lot, and I mean a lot, of monsters.
Stymphalian birds had shadowed me from the skies, metallic feathers glinting in the sunlight. Hydras lurked in the dark alleys, slithering after me from the shadows, wearing atrocious shirts with advertising for one chain of businesses or another. Even the beaches weren’t safe, as they swarmed with armies of angry red crabs that seemed to march behind my every step.
You ever done that thing where you shuffle your steps and try to break up the rhythm to try and throw off a possible stalker? And then if you’re like me or watching a horror movie, the stalker does the same thing? Yeah, imagine a thousand chitinous limbs all doing that in synchronicity.
I still shudder at the horror.
That was about the time I called it quits and made a break for home to grab the bug-out-bag and begin all over again.
Curse the modern age for their decent record keeping!
I can’t believe I actually missed the wild wild West. Where all you had to do to hide from the law or other unwanted forms of attention was to just dip out to the next town over and say your name was Mary Sue, or Joe Bob, or something.
No, now they actually tracked you for tax purposes!
Right, so I was in my room packing my bag, constantly checking over my shoulder to make sure nothing unsavory broke in through the window, or busted down my door, or slithered up through the piping.
I swore I heard a floorboard creak above me, stopping everything as I waited with bated breath for something to happen. Thinking to myself, Dear gods, this is how I die isn’t it? Not run through by a sword, but crushed by the world’s biggest crab.
But when no jumbo crab fell through the ceiling, no hydra busted in through the window, and no stymphalian bird popped out of the piping with a “Surprise mother fucker!”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Of course the Fates had to choose that moment as cue for my door to fly off its hinges and into the far wall.
I had just barely managed to twist around, potion of floral scented face melting agony in one hand and ready to toss while I fingered the potion of gods know what, probably something involving a newt and fire I think? When a vice-like grip encircled my wrists. My grip on the bottles loosened, and I panicked at the thought of a, likely, highly toxic substance not only melting through the floor, but whatever else got in its way.
I really hoped the nice lady downstairs didn’t mind melting. I really like her. She gave me cookies on move-in day!
The air in my throat solidified as I watched it (the bottle) hang there in anticipation, the bottle never making it to the hardwood floor and shattering. With that particular genie still in its bottle, I faced the current most threat that had yet to loosen its grip.
My first thought was, He’s kinda cute. With a blond head of wavy hair and the bluest pair of eyes I had ever seen. He was, at first glance, the perfect package, and I almost wanted to ask him out. Tall, blond, broad shouldered, and possessing a smoldering gaze that had me thinking there might be a slight chance of salvaging my night as he gave me one hundred and ten percent of his attention.
That was until I remembered this man was essentially the culmination of my day’s troubles. Then I could look past his smoldering good looks, and see that the reason I got so much attention was that he had more than your average two eyes.
My own pair of ocular organs swiveled about him, taking in every inch of exposed skin and seeing at least one eye staring right back. It didn’t take me long to figure out who I was facing, “Argus.” I said, identifying the Queen of the Gods most trusted servant.
But-
“That’s enough, Argus.” A collected, cold, voice commanded from the doorway, and the giant relented in his vice-like grip on my arms. Allowing me to watch as a woman stepped in through the cloud of dust that inhabited what was once my doorway, waving her hand to brush aside the debris that dared to hang in front of her face.
Out from the dust stepped Hera, Queen of the Gods, in a mortal guise. She was dressed in a rather simple white sundress, decked in a pair of opalescent white flats, and a wide brimmed sun hat rested on her head. With the dust no longer threatening to make her sneeze, Hera crossed her arms under her chest and over her abdomen, briefly looking around my destroyed apartment for… something. The action of surveying her newest surroundings was vaguely reminiscent of said goddess’ favored bird, head slightly bobbing about as she looked at everything and nothing in particular, taking long, slow steps as she paced back and forth. Long licorice black hair swaying slightly with her motions. Finally, she brought her brown eyed gaze to me.
Me, Medea, who was wearing faded jeans and a slightly stained t-shirt. Me, Medea, who was standing in her rinky dink apartment that had just been destroyed. Me, Medea, who gaped at Hera herself like an Atlantic cod out of water. Me, Medea, garbed in her bandolier brimming with potions that... Well actually, I didn’t really know what each of the potions would do outside of cause extreme pain with a side effect of dead.
Yes, you guessed it! That’s right, me, Medea, who stood next to Hera’s most trusted servant who had gone down on one knee into a proper kneel the moment the goddess crossed the threshold of my rinky dink apartment.
Mouth still open, my head made a bobbing motion, before I eventually shut it with an audible clack. “Lady Hera,” I said, mirroring Argus by going into a clumsy kneel, hoping desperately that the woman with the power to blink and turn me into a cow, didn’t go ahead and do so.
I did not really see what happened next.
One moment, I was on the ground, blushing up a storm as I stared at shoes and saw every grain of dirt and sand roll across my floor. Why oh why did I have to procrastinate and go to the beach instead of cleaning the apartment for the last three weeks! The next moment I was sitting at my second hand dining table across from Hera who was looking me up and down, appraising me for flaws.
I tried to get up to provide refreshments, only for a large hand to clamp down on my shoulder and shove me back down. Looking up - a mistake I assure you - I nervously gulped, giving the many stern eyes of Argus a half hearted smile and a weak placating wave.
I hemmed and hawed, trying to say something while Hera arched an aristocratic brow in response. I think I said, Can I get you anything? But of course, my dumb self, couldn’t pick a language to say it in. I think the grammar was definitely english, but the language used was a mix of ancient Greek and Colchan.
Hera rolled her eyes, looking as if she thought this was a mistake before she snapped her fingers, “Argus,” The many-eyed-giant jumped to attention, ready to serve. “Would you please get us some refreshments?” Hera requested with a kind smile. The giant bowed his head with a smile before dashing off to get the refreshments.
And as much as I wanted to watch Argus to see if he would procure refreshments from some nebulous source or just scrounge around in my cabinets. I really didn’t want to upset the goddess across from me who was known for deadly and terrible punishments for so much as thinking of her wrong.
Come to think of it… wasn’t Hera the patron god of my late husband?
“So how can I-”
“Can you believe my husband cheated on me, again?” Hera said with the same tone one would use when talking about a family pet peeing on the carpet, scraping her finger along my table before bringing it up to check how dusty it was.
I should have been offended, but again, didn’t want to go to a farm upstate in a bovine form.
“I hadn’t been-”
“Doesn’t matter.” Hera once more cut me off. “Because now,” She leaned forward and looked me in the eye, her own swimming with an untold power and magical energy, “I’ll finally have my own little happiness. One without my husband’s input.” She leaned back into her seat popping the p, with a smug indifference while I gulped, unsure of how to talk with a woman, god, person, who seemed perfectly content with talking to me and not with me.
Her brown orbs swiveled in their sockets while her face remained directed at my oceanside window.
Eventually I figured out that she was giving me the opportunity to speak. And, like the world’s greatest fool with a death wish, I said, “So who did Zeus cheat with?”
I swear it wasn’t me. It was some other person who happened to sound exactly like me, sitting in exactly the same spot, and wearing the same clothing… but it wasn’t me!
Regardless of if it was or was not me, the damage was done. Hera gave me a one eyed glare that had me smoking in my seat.
Literally.
There were plumes of smoke streaming up from my body and clothes. Enough to have me worrying about setting off the smoke alarms and pissing off the landlord.
Which was odd since I should definitely be more concerned about the angry actual literal physical goddess in front of me who looked to be on the very edge of deciding what farm animal to turn me into.
Hera looked like she was about to growl, the corner of her lip turned down in a sneer as she closed her eyes and let out a deep seated sigh. “Beryl Grace.” She said the name like it physically pained her.
“Like, the tv star?” I stupidly asked.
“Yes.” Hera grit out through closed teeth.
There was a moment of silence, Hera stewing in her seat, looking out at the crashing waves on the shore with a bored expression. It was like a switch was flipped and the goddess had gone from murder-stab mode (relatable) to painfully bored and tired.
“So do you want me to…” I waved my hand vaguely between her and myself. Bandolier still wrapped around me with a bounty of potions designed to cause pain and misery.
I was offering to murder the celebrity if it wasn’t obvious, to you the audience.
And if you found the idea funny, then you were in good company as Hera was laughing as well.
It was a deep boisterous noise that echoed off the walls and was filled with mirthful entertainment. “No, no, no,” She accepted an offered handkerchief from Argus who had appeared at that moment, the many eyed giant having placed a very fancy tea set at the center of the small table for two.
The lid of the pot was off, and I could see the rich brown liquid gently swirling within. The aroma wafted through the air and I had to restrain myself from pouring a cup then and there. It was obviously a fancy tea, if not because of the antique china tea set, then because Argus went far enough to put an actual lotus in the hot water.
Lotus tea!
“No,” Hera informed me matter of factly, “But that’s partially why I’m here. You see, I’ve grown…” Hera waved her hand vaguely through the air, turning around to face me properly, “malcontent with my lot in life. Jealous, you could say. Though if you do,” Hera looked at me with a look that could be generously considered joking in some circles, “I might just have to kill you.”
“Noted.”
“The short of it is, Zeus and I have come to an arrangement.”
“An arrangement?” I asked, extending my neck out a bit forward to watch Argus pour the tea into two small cups. Partially because I didn’t want him to poison me by putting something in when I wasn’t looking, and also because he did it so fancy like. I’m pretty sure the best trained butlers would retire in shame at being unable to replicate the smooth pouring by even a tenth the level of fancy.
“Normally,” Hera took a sip of her tea, “I’d stew for a few days, come up with a plan of vengeance; against either the child or its mother.” Right, of course, who wouldn’t? “But then, the most remarkable thing happened. I thought, ‘Why can’t I have a child?’ Afterall, Zeus does it all the time!” Hera rolled her eyes, while Argus shook his head in disapproval to his Lady’s husband’s despicable antics.
“But I didn’t want another godling, another Hephaestus.” The Queen of the Gods informed me, with a sincerity in her voice that told me this wasn’t about Hephaestus and his mishapeness at birth, but specifically the god factor. “Why can’t I have a demigod child?” Hera flung her arms wide for emphasis, Argus nodding his head in agreement. She was now talking to herself more than me. “So I popped down to the mortal world and got to searching.”
I choked on my tea, “You can’t possibly mean you cheated on Lord Zeus?” I hacked, silently thanking Argus when he began to hover over me in concern as I came under the serious threat of dying from choking on hot tea.
Hera waved off my concerns with a flippant disregard. “No, no, no, no, no.” She put down her cup at the same time I managed to recover. “You see, the current batch of mortals have come up with this wonderful new invention, technique, black magic, forbidden technique, blad-deh-blah-deh-blah. So I just- opened up a catague, found a pretty face and said ‘Ooh, that one!’ and then filled out the rest of the paperwork.” She took another sip of her tea, looking at me with those clever broan eyes from over the brim, “And now.” She put the cup down, standing up. “I’m pregnant.”
She had a proud smile on her face, arms held wide as she showed off her… pregnancy belly? It was rather flat. I myself had been pregnant, had seen pregnant women, so I knew that this was either very early in Hera’s pregnancy or that gods just didn’t get belly bumps.
“You may applaud.” She told me, though I got the distinct feeling it was more of a command that if I didn’t follow through I might end up chewing cud. Regardless, I began clapping alongside Argus who looked genuinely proud of his Lady’s achievement.
I was a bit stunned. I couldn’t imagine Zeus being all too happy about his wife giving birth to what was, in some sense, another man’s child. So I voiced my concerns justly, still not knowing why Hera had come to me but dreading the eventual request she was going to ask.
“Well,” Hera began, “When I found out my husband had impregnated his side piece, I got mad. But rather than stay mad and then punish the foolish girl or her soon to be child, I got crafty. I wanted a child, more importantly, I wanted and still want my child to be safe. So I made a deal with Zeus, I would not harm either Beryl or the soon to be child, and Zeus would reciprocate the same for me. We cannot directly or indirectly harm or bring harm to each other's demigod child.” Oh gods, my stomach had long since passed bedrock and was quickly approaching Hades as the increasing sense of dread kept growing as I anticipated what all of this chicanery had to do with me.
“Now,” Oh no, here it was. I had survived countless attempts on my life and the passage of time itself. Now I was going to be killed by one of two of the most powerful gods on Olympus, either Hera by refusing, or Zeus for helping Hera have a child that Zeus would not be happy with at all. “What I need from you, is a nanny.”
Record scratch. “What?”
“A nanny!” Hera smiled, all shining white teeth and gleaming happiness like this was going to be fun and not a terrible, horrible, very bad, no good idea. “You see, I want to be able to raise my daughter, but the usual dangers and the laws of Olympus make that hard. I can be there for the first few years, but after that it’s going to be hard to find time to see my precious little girl.”
“Girl?” I questioned, avoiding the nanny topic for now. Granted, this was a goddess I was speaking to so who knows. If Poseidon and Medusa can have a half horse, half bird thing child, then who was I to question the birthing process of a god and the gender of their children.
“Yes, what better way to shove it to my horrid husband by having a daughter all of my own that will be better than any son he has ever had.”
That was a big dream there. There were a lot of Zeus’ children to compete with, let alone the one about to be born. “And if she doesn't?” I apparently never knew when to keep my mouth shut about a god's megalomaniacal goals.
Hera made a weird motion with her face, not an angry one at the idea of her child not making greatness, but more one of indifference. A facial shrug if you will. “Then she doesn’t. I don’t want my child to fulfil some great destiny, I want her to be… well, a child.” She laughed, a single carefree laugh as if she didn’t believe that this was happening in the first place.
“My marriage has been in practical shambles on and off for centuries, my children barely regard me as a mother, and I feel no attachment to any grandchildren - mortal or not.” Her face was sad now, stuck in distant memories where she actually was a mother before it was all ruined by one thing or another. “I’ve never had a demigod child, never could before, but now.” She made a noiseless laugh, really an awkward cough more than anything. “Now, I can.”
I had never seen or heard of a god crying. And when I had, it was from a tragic loss, not because a goddess was on the verge of having something that would make her feel complete and whole. To give meaning to a life she didn’t know she was living.
And in that moment, I could understand.
This wasn’t about revenge to Hera.
This was about her.
This was about having a child because she wanted one. Not like the other gods and their demigod children being born out of one night stands as they usually were.
This was an actual desire of Hera’s to have a child, and to be a mother.
The silence that hung after that declaration wasn’t awkward, or somber, or tense, it just was.
It was a moment where I was too awed or stunned to say anything while the distant echo of a dream resonated within myself.
And then, it was gone.
Hera was standing up to her full height and looking down at me with an expectant look. This wasn’t a woman excited and baffled at the prospect of giving birth-
This was Hera.
Queen of the Gods and Olympus. Goddess of the Heavens. The patron of women everywhere.
She was a god, and she would not be denied.
“I need you to watch my daughter when I am unable. You will of course be compensated, given sick leave and vacation.” I was stunned, blinking awkwardly to myself at what Hera was proposing. “You will also have a patron, a benefactor, someone to have your back and protect you in turn. Unless of course, Hekate is still with you.” She raised a brow while I felt my blood run cold.
You see, Hekate and I had had something of a… falling out over the centuries.
Nothing bad, just-
It was like no longer talking with a friend, you just one day stop and never take it back up again.
I was still a sorceress, just not the powerful badass version I used to be. I used to be able to set people on fire, summon dragons to obey my will, and vanish into thin air. But without Hekate backing me up, my powers began to wax and wane over the years.
The fact my grandfather had long since faded after the Roman’s butchered him and replaced him with that air headed idiot also didn’t help.
I had kept a grip on my mortal life and extended it through alchemy and potions, the oldest form of magic. Though even that wouldn’t keep me going forever, and I had a lot of enemies waiting for me in the afterlife.
At the moment, I was barely Medea, Princess of Colchis. I was more Sally Jackson (my current pseudonym), fresh graduate from some random New York Community College, hopeful future best selling author!
“Of course, I can always leave you to fulfil whatever it is that gives your life meaning at the moment. What was it the old lady in the hall called you? Silvia Johnson?”
The offer hung in the air like an apple of Tantalus himself. So tantalizingly within reach. There was more to this deal that Hera wasn’t letting on, the offer of power and protection sounded too good to be true. But the thing is, I just didn’t understand why Hera wanted me of all people to be the nanny to what was the most precious thing in her world.
It didn’t sound like Hera was going to let anything come to harm her future daughter, to the extent that she was trusting the Medea, a woman who murdered her own children out of a misplaced need for vengeance and a perverse desire to protect her sons.
So with that in mind… “Why?”
“Because you remind me of me.” Hera told me matter of factly. “Forced into a marriage by circumstance, sacrificing everything for the whims and desires of a cheating husband.” She looked down thoughtfully at her half full cup, staring at her amber reflection. “For so long I have been bitter because I cannot have what others around me could do so naturally. Forced to watch my husband sneak behind my back and have the very thing I desired. Perhaps if things had been different, I might not have been so vengeful.”
I was actually shocked, Hera was speaking from the heart. And the thing was… I understood her perfectly. Both her and I were close to tears as the weight of our long lives, filled with heartbreak and bloodshed weighed upon our backs like the heart of Mount Olympus itself. A crushing force that threatened to send us right to the courts of Hades to be judged at that very moment. I had lost my family, not just that, I had murdered them. I had betrayed my loving father for a piece of ass, chopped up my own brother, slit the throats of my two sons, and so much more. And for what?
“What I am offering you,” Hera began, trying to keep herself composed as the ever primal emotions of love and fear clashed behind those brown eyes. “Is a chance to start over. Both of us can never undo the harm we have done, but perhaps we can move past it and redeem ourselves in some way.” The goddess sighed, “So what do you say, will you be my daughter’s nanny?”
Did I deserve a second chance?
Let alone the chance to watch a child and help nurture it.
My own children had not even made it to the cusp of adulthood before I lost them for good.
These hands, stained so red with blood that I would neve be free of my burden
And yet it was the promise, like the sun rising over the crested hill to banish the dark of the night.
So of course I said yes.
~April 20, 1988~
Hera’s choice of dwelling where she planned to raise her child was in Hawaii. Not any island specifically persay. It was an island all to Hera’s own, and I guess mine by extent.
I guess if I were to give a geographical location, I’d say it wasn’t too far from the Island of Hawaii. Maybe a couple miles off shore? But much like the other islands, Hera’s was a lush landscape, untouched by man and kept pure with the exception of the sole dock attached to the beach and the manor itself.
It was guarded by a thick veil of mist to keep mortals away, its borders and forests patrolled by a variety of monsters and magical birds sworn to Hera. The beaches were protected by an army of vicious crabs dedicated to the sole purpose of keeping any interlopers that made it through the veil away. An army of warrior nymphs and sentient man eating plants waited in wait for the unobservant passerby.
Then there was the house, if you were to give it a humble name. A large dwelling composed of: seven bedrooms, ten bathrooms (seven full and three half), two dining rooms, a breakfast nook, one full kitchen and one half kitchen, three greenhouses, a pool, a drawing room, four offices, and various others to top it all off.
The manor itself had a variety of its own guards. A variety of nymphs and naiads, a couple of dryads, and some semi-sentient statues and automatons made by Hephaestus.
And then I guess there was myself, and Argus as well. Though Argus apparently had some other duties that Hera was loath to lend his services to but was otherwise being forced into it by the other gods. How she managed to keep him near her for so long and for much of the foreseeable future was beyond me.
The other Olympians were actually unaware of Hera’s impending demigod child, though it was not supposed to be a secret.
From what I gathered, Hera was determined to have as much peace and time alone with her daughter as she could get, so she was keeping mum about her pregnancy and staying away from Olympus unless required.
The One thing I didn’t understand was why Zeus was keeping quiet about it.
But I didn’t have much time or information to dwell on that, I had a baby to prepare for. And to learn whatever the fuck it was a nanny did.
At the moment, I had just finished unpacking my things, and was left to my own devices. Allowed to explore the extensive manor as I saw fit. I was even allowed to plant what I wanted in one of the greenhouses for my magical, academic, culinary, or whatever other needs.
I was about to go and check it out, moving down the hall to go and check out one of the indoor planting structures when I caught sight of Hera in the master bedroom.
She was in her underwear, a simple tan bra and women’s briefs.
By now, she was about six months pregnant, and it definitely showed as opposed to simply a month ago when there was barely a bump.
She was entranced, hands caressing the simple curve and bend of her contorting stomach, desperately trying to feel the little heartbeat inside.
I slunk close to the doorframe, as if this was something I wasn’t supposed to see… which it likely wasn’t.
Hera was almost, “reverent” I would say. An expression of awe decorating her face. But there was something else, a mix of desire and impatience. As if she wasn’t sure if she wanted this stage of motherhood to end or for the next to come now and skip the wait.
From what I gathered… Hera wanted the whole experience.
She didn’t want an eternal child to care for, not a doll, she wanted a growing living child. She wanted to foster a new life, to see something not quite her and yet quite not not-her if that made sense. She wanted to be there for the big life milestones, first steps, first day of school, first date (if she didn’t turn the poor boy or girl into a flower or animal or just vaporize them and be done with it). But she also wanted to be there for the bad as well. She wanted to be there for the nightmares, for when her baby fell and scraped her knee so she could kiss it better… her baby’s first heartbreak (when she would finally turn the poor fool into a flower or animal or go with the good old vaporization).
It was such a pure moment, one untouched by greed or envy.
This was all about the child, about what they would become, the potential they held. And I guess the joy that they would bring to Hera’s life.
Hera didn’t care if her child grew up to be a hero or a lawyer, a writer or doctor or housewife, or even if they found a passion in garbage disposal. To Hera, so long as her precious daughter was happy, that was all she needed herself.
Unbidden, I found my own hand lingering over my own abdomen. Mimicking the motions Hera did over her distended stomach across my flat abdomen.
A mixture of loss and longing clashing in the pit of my stomach.
And as quickly as I came, I left. Departing with the same lack of notice as I had appeared.
I would check the gardens later...
~May 18, 1988~
By now, Hera was showing.
She was about seven months pregnant and I had no idea what to expect day to day.
Some days, Hera was calm, happy, planning out what the baby's room would look like and what she would do in the first few months with the utmost joy.
Other days, she was a furious ball of rage, desperately grasping with her previous declaration for a new start as she watched over her husband, and his affair partner, and their child.
Like now. At the moment, I sat in the back seat of the car Hera had rented, a black 1988 Cadillac, the latest on the line. Argus in the driver's seat. And beside me, a seething Hera on the verge of doing something lethal to someone, likely the clueless smiling Beryl Grace and the infant son in her arms, Thaddeus Grace.
The big factor that likely held her back was her deal with Zeus. But what was probably making her think of going back on it would be the same smiling god who was playing with the infant in his mother’s arms.
I felt like I should do something. Maybe not curse the kid or poison the mother, but Hera had made it very clear I was to do no such thing under any circumstance. Hera wasn’t kidding when she made sure her soon to be daughter would be protected from Hera’s vengeful husband. Neither Hera or Zeus could be in any way responsible for harm brought to the children, or in Zeus' case his paramour as well. This included direct and indirect methods, and went so far as to include encouraging others to take action for them, either by subtle means or directly telling someone to do it for them.
Hera’s shoulders rose, her face scrunching up in fury and disgust as she looked at the happy scene in front of her.
And then, it was gone.
The tension released in a single breath.
And Hera just looked defeated, her face sad, almost wistful. “I’ve seen enough, Argus, you can take us back to the house.” The house being a vacation home Hera had bought here in New York for when she and the child had to come here for whatever reason. Though as I said, it was the vacation house.
And as we drove, I thought of an idea. “Stop the car!” I cried, Argus slamming on the breaks before the eyes on the back of his head widened as he realized he might have jeopardized the pregnancy with such a sudden stop.
But Hera wasn’t concerned with that, not even phased by the abrupt change in pace of the vehicle that had little regard for its inhabitants as Newton's laws of motion carried through.
“What are you doing?” She asked, suspicious of my actions as I turned to stare at the child and focus my powers on the boy. “You better not be doing anything malignant to the boy. I don’t care if Zeus is happy now, he’ll eventually move on and the child will be miserable with or without my influence. Regardless, I will not jeopardize my child’s safety, so unless you want to know what it feels like to melt from the inside outl, you’ll stop this foolishness now!”
Beads of sweat at the promising threat of vaporization running down the back of my neck, “I’m just... checking.” I tried to buy myself time before Hera began the vaporizing.
I wonder if she’d just snap her fingers and I’d go ‘poof’! Or maybe she’d shoot lasers from her eyes! Heck, maybe Hephaestus had built her a disintegration ray! Wasn’t that something in the horror movies about the little gray men the mortals liked?
“Checking what?” Hera growled, eyes now reminiscent of her husband’s quintessential storm clouds. A flurry of primal energy locked behind those eyes that was more than ready to carry out on the vaporizing promise.
“His.” I focused my magic, the familiar pool of energy that now dwelt within changed, different. Not in a bad way, but neither good. Hekate was a goddess of primal magics, of tempted fates and unknowable secrets. She was a goddess of the wild flame and darker things kept within the embrace of night. But Hera was nurturing, she was change and stability. Like fair Aprhodite, she represented love, albeit a different kind. It was a motherly love, knowing no bounds and having no bottom to its depths. It was this love that only grew stronger as the hour of Hera’s precious daughter’s birth neared ever closer. “Future.” I struggled to say, concentrating on the motherly bond between Hera and her daughter and trying to find that similar link between Beryl and her offspring.
Hera’s brow knit in displeasure, but she did not stop me, instead turning her attention to the still oblivious Zeus and Beryl.
I must have had her approval though, as a wave of mist began to coalesce around the car, hiding us from Zeus who began to peek around at his surroundings from the corner of his eye.
“What do you see?” Hera asked, eyes narrowed into slits as she stared in contempt at the lovely scene of her husband and his mistress and child.
Her hand came to rest on my shoulder, and I could feel that familiar bond between mother and child strengthen in my mind.
Two strings began to take shape. One a colorful myriad of shimmering colors, the other a steely tempest grey.
The first was strong, showing a loving mother and child. I saw a family, stitched together of a thousand faces that were touched by the smiling girl. Of sunny days before a sudden cold night with a promise of the coming dawn.
The second was cold and frayed. I saw heartbreak, madness and mania, loss and betrayal, and darkness. So much darkness, as the bond would one day be cut so abruptly that I couldn’t quite make heads or tales of the sensation.
“Well?” Hera asked while I gathered my breath, a little winded after the endeavor and left to wonder if it was always such a workout or if my magical muscles had grown soft after centuries of disuse.
“You were right.” I told Hera who preened under the information. “They’ll be miserable.”
Hera asked questions, dirty little details to feed her feeling of schadenfreude. But I had none to give, the sensations still too vague and my powers of precognition not what they once were. I only knew that the child’s life would be hard even from a young age.
But despite my own history and how it so closely mirrored Hera’s present… I couldn’t help but feel pity for the child that had not asked to be born to such a cruel fate.
~June 13, 1988~
It was an adjustment.
Ever since I had found myself on the run I had been forced to constantly look over my shoulder. I had no idea when an intrepid hero would try and take the glory for killing The Witch Medea. And if it wasn't humans or demigods, it was monsters. My grandfather was Helios, so while I was not a demigod myself - being a legacy - there was still a scent that lingered about me that sectioned me off as "other" to monsters that singled me out.
It had been no different when I had been living in Montauk New York as the young Sally Jackson. But as Hera had pointed out about a month ago, my link to the goddess of witchcraft and magic had diminished over the years. My bandolier of deadly toxins and tonics was my main line of defense.
That and anonymity.
The great thing about becoming a nobody, nobody recognizes you!
No one would have thought that I, Medea, was running around the countryside, eating babies, and raising the dead! So all I really had to worry about was some monster trying to make a snack out of me and the occasional confused satyr or demigod that put two and two together.
But here, at Hera's intended home (really a luxury fort that could rival the American Fort Knox) I was safe.
Safe from attackers, at least the smart ones with a sense of self preservation. The idiot god, monster, and or adventuring halfblood were always on the table but likely to be incinerated, melted, turned into a barnyard animal, or finding some other equal or worse punishment for daring to intrude on the sanctuary meant for Hera's soon to be baby girl.
Another thing to get used to was the fact that I didn't have to worry about food, or rent, or electricity. Getting a regular mortal life, be it in ancient Greece, the dark ages of Medieval Europe, the early and later industrial eras, and the modern era, was always a struggle. It was increasingly harder given the fact that I was dead set (ironic choice of words there Medea) on staying alive for as long as possible. No big reason. Wasn't even about getting a punishment I likely deserved. I just didn't want to see he-who-shall-not-be-named.
That's it. That's the reason. I'd say my next highest kill streak outside of people who deserved it were people who parents hated them enough to name them Jason.
Oh gods, was I gonna have to restrain myself if Hera's child made friends with a mortal boy named Jason? Hera said she wanted her daughter to go to mortal school if it was at all possible. But what were the odds?
...
...
...
That was the other thing though, the last thing that I was gonna have to get used to and fast- being near a child.
Not only that but having to help raise the child.
I had tried having children with other men, other men I thought I loved only for them to spurn me in some other way. Theseus' idiot mortal father was a good example of that. Despite having two other children by blood, he hung all his hopes on his first born son (a son that apparently wasn't his?) who he had met for only a single day. And yet he cast aside our sons, MY sons, the moment that brat strolled in. That idiot that I thought I loved jumped to his death because his lying brat of a son who left the girl who helped him with his trial (seeing a pattern here?) and tried to kidnap a twelve year old Helen (who did nothing fucking wrong! Kidnapping, is not the fault of the victim!) and Persephone herself. From her husband, the God of the Underworld Hades, no less!
...
Everyday I'd see Hera, spying her when she thought no one was looking, caressing her steadily growing baby bump and looking so content. At night, right before she went to bed, she'd sit in the living room and read children's books to the unborn baby.
I was beginning to wonder if I could do. Not just raise the child, but watch the mother and her have a close, loving relationship, one I could only dream of.
~August 18, 1988~
I sat on the couch, nervous as the sound of Hera screaming echoed through the house.
This was it.
The moment was now.
No backing out for Medea.
Once that child was born, I was locked in as the nanny for the foreseeable future.
And weirdly enough, I wasn’t averse to that.
Oh sure, I wasn’t a fan of the early stages of my own children, the throw up, the diapers, the general mess and chaos… but the memory of pattering feet on hardwood, the long forgotten sound of childhood laughter, and the sweetest smiles under the sun…
Suffice to say I had mixed feelings on the situation.
It could be worse though!
I could be Argus, rocking himself in the corner as his beloved mistress wailed in agony while he could do nothing to help. She was being attended to by an army of midwives and nymphs to ensure a smooth birthing. The last thing anyone wanted was a many eyed giant getting untold amounts of blood and viscera in one of his many eyes.
This was actually Argus’ third breakdown so far. The giant followed a simple pattern where he’d pace around nervously, go stand by the door, come down to stand in the living room with me, and then cry in a corner.
I had tried to comfort him, but Argus was in his own world, walking through a world of mist where he couldn’t do anything to help his lady. So now I just mopped up the ridiculous puddle of tears before they got too big.
It was almost funny if it wasn’t so sad.
I was this close to forcing a cup of tea and potion (sleeping potion not poison potion) down his throat when it stopped.
The house was silent.
A nymph with green skin and flowers in her hair (or was it part of her hair?) silently crept down the stairs, “She’s ready for visitors now.” she informed us.
And Argus wasted no time in running up the stairs to be of some comfort to the goddess that had quite literally breathed life into him.
Huh… did that make Argus and the baby siblings?
No time for that! The unnamed nymph was giving me a worried look so I hurried up the stairs to fulfil whatever nanny duties I had.
I had to do a double take.
The scene was just so domestic and caring that I couldn't help but get carried away.
You know the looks on those weird church displays around Christmas? The one with the baby in the manger and how everyone came to look at the Christmas child? The looks of adoration and undiluted love that pervaded the scene in every aspect?
That was what was happening now.
Hera sat in the bed, breastfeeding her baby with the most loving expression on her face. I had seen her lovingly look that way in the mirror as she observed her growing baby bump. Watched her longingly caress the growing lifeform inside her while she read children's stories to it in the late hours of the day.
But now?
Now Hera looked content, as if every moment of pain and suffering had been some cruel upfront payment to the universe's most sadistic loan shark so that she could have this sole moment of happiness.
Around her, the other nymphs fawned at the baby, idling chatting and asking questions to the goddess who didn’t answer back. Too lost in the suckling little bundle of joy in her arms to notice anything else.
All the party ponies in the world could have crashed through and Hera would not have noticed so long as the baby continued to feed.
Argus was crying again, but rather than his eyes being the epitome of distraught pain and misery because he could do nothing. He looked lost for words, face stunned as the tears came down in steady gentle streams.
Though he didn’t speak in the first place.
Every one of his eyes was focused on the scene before him, specifically the baby that had stopped feeding and had begun to squirm and make noise.
Hera was quick to reposition the baby, still smiling, and began to burp the little demigod.
Before I knew it, I had been drawn in. Walking up to Argus who Hera had allowed to hold the baby once he had wiped off most of the tears and washed his hands.
“What’s her name?” I asked, Hera having kept it a secret for good luck despite being so sure of the baby's gender.
“Perseus.” Hera softly told me.
“Wait, I thought you said she was going to be a girl?” I looked at my boss in confusion while she daintily laughed.
“She is.”
“But…”
“Think of it,” Hera began with a mischievous tone to her smile, “more as giving the name to someone more deserving. Better Perseus if you will.” She supplied with a hearty chuckle at her own joke.
“Better Perseus.” I chuckled, shaking my head at the audacity as I watched Argus play with the baby by giving her one of his big fingers. Stepping closer, I finally got a good look at the little thing.
She was so tiny. My own children had been so big after being born that I was sure they would have been able to walk if they came out any bigger. She wasn’t underweight persay, just… small. Perseus was a small, dainty little baby that smiled brighter than the sun.
Perseus had a tiny tuft of soft baby down, licorice black like her mother’s though a bit wispier given her age (zero). She had the same medterranean complexion as her mother as well, though it was closer to cream than a distinct tan given her age (still zero, though I guess you could say something like eleven minutes and seven seconds if you were paying close enough attention). Other than that, she was still too much a squishy baby to tell what she had inherited from her mother and her father (the sperm donor remember).
But the one distinct thing she had inherited from her patriarch was his eyes.
Little baby Perseus had the deepest sea green eyes I had ever seen. They reminded me of calm tropical ocean waters, of warm shallows safe from the dangers of the abyss, of gentle kelp waxing and waving in the surf.
“Hi Perseus!” I quietly waved to the baby, getting her attention by mistake.
She looked at me, face going flat as if she didn’t know what to expect of me.
I was worried she was going to cry at the big bad Medea and that Hera was going to finally vaporize me for good when she did the last thing I was expecting.
She laughed.
It was innocent. Pure. Untainted by the horrors of the world and oh so naive.
And in that moment I knew that I had to do everything in my power to make sure it remained that way for as long as possible.
Slowly, gently, as if I would frighten the small thing still in Argus’ arms, I extended my finger for Percy’s grasping pudgy baby hands to take.
And as Perseus began to play with my index finger, as she laughed so jubilantly and innocently while trying to tug the digit off, shoving it into her toothless mouth and gumming on it, I laughed.
It was all the stress I had been carrying up to that point, the doubt, the self loathing and hatred, the worry and fear.
It was like I was Pandora’s Box (or Pithos if you wanted to get technical).
As if all of my sins and atrocious acts were being washed away by the touch of this tiny little child who had taken her first few breaths just moments ago.
And I’m not ashamed to say I cried in that same moment.
“Welcome to the world Perseus.”