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Hera was never alone. At all hours of the day, she had her handmaidens on her heels to tend to her every need, the spirits of her most devoted worshippers in life. Even if she shooed them away to spend some time in her aviary her birds kept her company. And sometimes she had to entertain her family or attend a meeting of the Olympians. She was never alone. So why was she so lonely?
“What a foolish question,” she muttered to herself as she overlooked the palace courtyard. There, Apollo and Hermes were engaged in some debate she could not hear. Both of them had their father’s platinum blond hair. To him, that was a symbol of his strength, of the dominance of his traits to show so prominently in his favorite sons. To her, it was a reminder of his philandering. Both of her sons inherited her dark hair, though Hephaestus kept his head shaved and Ares always had his damned helmet on. It was like they were ashamed of it, ashamed to show their resemblance to her. She glowered at the younger gods as they laughed together. “I am lonely because of him.”
“Because of who, my queen?” came the voice of the man in question, startling her out of her thoughts. She glowered at him. Her husband. Her king. The source of all her pain. He settled on the ledge next to her. Of course, the fool had his chiton wrapped around his waist to leave his chest bare, he didn’t even have the decency to wear a chlamys this time. His deep voice rumbled in her ears as he chuckled. “Talking to yourself again, Hera?”
“Why not? I am surrounded by fools and sycophants. Who else is there to talk to?” She would not look at him, with his arrogant grin and bare chest. Kaos above, what could he possibly want from her?
He didn’t answer, only reaching out to stroke her shoulder, but she swatted his hand away. “You look beautiful today.” The way his voice sounded when he wanted to be tender was almost enough to make her cave to whatever game he was playing, but she would not be swayed.
Of course, she looked beautiful, she and her handmaids put great care into her presentation. She was the queen of the gods, she had to look it. That day, she wore ultramarine silk trimmed with emeralds. Gold bracelets adorned her bare arms and from her ears hung lapis lazuli earrings in the shape of peacock feathers. The diadem in her hair was also gold, decorated with laurels made of platinum. “So nice of you to notice.” She snapped and fully turned her body away from him, taking a small bit of satisfaction in the annoyed huff she heard from him. “What do you want, Zeus?”
There was a moment that he didn’t answer, so she ventured a glance back at him. He was leaning his back against the balcony with a solemn look on his face. “You recall Apollo’s prophecy? About the fate of the Achaeans?”
“Yes.” Her tone was gentler this time, given the gravity of the prediction.
At the last meeting of the Olympians, after Poseidon was finished ranting at Zeus for forbidding the former from drowning the island of Ithaca after what their king had done to him, Apollo spoke up. “It will not matter,” he spoke gravely. “His line will die out, and Achaean civilization will fall.”
The room had fallen silent before he continued speaking about the consequences of The Trojan War. Palaces will be abandoned, people fleeing to Egypt and Babylon, the entire system of writing forgotten. It will be centuries before civilization is able to rise from the ashes.
“Good.” Aphrodite had finally said. “It serves them right for going to war with Troy in the first place.”
“And whose fault was that?” Athena retorted and the two traded barbs before Zeus intervened.
“Enough!” He bellowed and ended the meeting before it could be derailed any further.
“How do you feel about what he said?”
She had to laugh at that, a morose and humorless laugh. “I feel… foolish…” She finally answered with a sigh. Zeus seemed surprised by this, so she clarified, “We fell for Eris’s ridiculous game, and look at what it’s gotten us. The world we built will end, and it is our fault.”
“It won’t end, I think.” Zeus mused, scratching his beard, in a rare bit of wisdom from him. “It will change, certainly, but as our king of Ithaca has demonstrated, mortals have a funny way of persisting through even the most dire of circumstances.”
“Perhaps Prometheus was onto something when he created them.”
He frowned. “I am not freeing him from his prison.”
There was a pause and they finally looked at each other and laughed. It wasn’t uproarious laughter, more of a gentle chuckle from both of them as they were both reminded of the affection they once had for each other. Zeus ventured again to touch her, this time brushing a bit of hair from her face. The gesture made her stomach twist in knots. She quickly turned away from him again to hide the blush on her cheeks. No, she would not fall for his charm, not again. It will only hurt her.
“We are at the precipice of a new era of mortal civilization. Perhaps…” He sighed. “Perhaps in this new era, some change could be made here as well.”
She felt her chest tighten at that. He was going to set her aside. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t let him see her pain. Steeling herself, she asked “Who?”
“Who?” He echoed, confusion in his voice.
“Who are you going to replace me with?” She looked back at him with venom in her eyes.
The confusion in his voice showed on his face. “Replace you? No, of course not.” He chortled. “Who could possibly replace you? Demeter is too caught up in her plants and sulking when her daughter isn’t around. And Hestia doesn’t have the strength to be queen of the heavens.”
“Hestia has far more strength than you think.” Hera snapped, crossing her arms. “Or have you forgotten that she was the first to be eaten by our father?”
“It’s not the same.” He stuttered, trying to recover. “What I mean is… Perhaps you and I could… work together to… improve our marriage.”
She stared at him a moment, incredulous, processing what he’d just said, then laughed, loudly. It was a mean laugh, which perhaps wasn’t fully warranted, but his suggestion was so ridiculous. “Work together? What work is there to do on my part? You are the one who sleeps around, flaunting your bastards in front of me.”
“Well maybe if my wife was more receptive-”
She slapped him for that. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
The sound of distant thunder rumbled over Olympus at Zeus’s wrath. There was rage in his eyes, but just as soon as it arrived, it dissipated. “I should return that gesture, but I’ll forget it. This time.” He warned.
There was another tense moment of silence between them. Zeus was once again the one to break it. “It is true you never asked to be my queen, but you have filled that role better than any else could have…”
“So you are admitting fault, then?” She cocked her head at him.
“And perhaps,” he continued, ignoring her trap, “it is time that I, that we, provided a better example for mortals, as to what that looks like.”
She was still unimpressed. “You know what needs to happen for that to work.”
“I know,” his voice was so uncertain it was almost comical, “what I need to work on. All I ask is… that you indulge me more often… should the need arise.”
She didn’t answer for a moment, just staring at him, her arms crossed, her face as still as stone, letting him wallow in his anxiety. He was asking her to be in his bed more often, and she could not deny that the idea was tempting. To be frank, his asking was a step in the right direction. She mulled it over for a few more seconds before she finally sighed and gave a wry smile. “I did enjoy that time we spent together during the war.”
He perked up at that, then got a look on his face that mimicked hers. “You mean when you used your,” he stepped towards her and put a hand on her hip, “feminine wiles to distract me from tipping the scales a bit?”
She let him touch her. The weight of his large hand on her sent a chill down her spine, but she gave no outward indication of it. “I do indeed.” She had to crane her neck to look up at him, especially when he was so close to her. “Though I could have done without the list of your mistresses.”
He leaned down to her. “Perhaps I need a reminder of why you are my queen.”
They were inches apart, both of his hands on her hips, pulling her into him. The distance nearly closed before-
“Father?” They separated in an instant at the sound of Hermes’s voice. “Is this a bad time?”
“No,” Zeus’s voice cracked, then he cleared his throat and said again, “No, what is it, Hermes?”
And just like that, he was gone and her handmaids once again surrounded her. She watched him walk away with his son, but he ventured a glance back at her. They exchanged a look of understanding, that their conversation would have to continue later, in a different setting.