Mood Music


Many years ago…


Even in the midst of a siege, Zeus found a way to dishonor her. Her eyes met his. Dark, cold, and dead to his sparkle. It was eons of hatred and loathing. How many times has she seen him like this, buried in some doe-eyed, pleasant, young mortal? He groaned as he discarded the woman from their bed, the little thing with mouth agape and confused, left to figure out how to get out of her own. What had Zeus promised this one? That her village would be spared? It didn't matter, not anymore, he had nothing left to give.

He expected her to run to him, to slap him, to scream. She would have, once. And then the queen of the gods, the goddess of marriage, would forgive him. She would wrap herself around him and absolve him of his sins. She would tell him that she loved him, only him. He would lie and say it was the same, that his actions were not who he was.

But this time, as the rebel forces broke down their walls and converged on their hidden sanctuary, the kiss she gave him was deep, but the despair was his alone. There were no tears or pleas that he be true. He had ravaged the land and threatened the delicate balance they had carved out again. He had made her a joke and he would never change.

“If only I could send you to our father.” Her whispered words were harsh in his ear. “To devour you over and over again for an eternity. Death is too kind for you, consider it my last gift, undeserved but given all the same.”

As men filled the room, weapons drawn, they found Hera holding a kneeling and lifeless Zeus against her. His face twisted in a pained death grimace, vibrant blood covered the lower half of his face and splashed against the white gold marble floor.

“It is done.” A declaration that the Tyranomachy War was ended, the King of the Gods had been deposed.


Present Day - New Olympus


New Olympus thrummed with anticipation. It had been some time since so many gods had been in the city at once. Mortals who served the city and the Queen had been preparing for months. The city streets were packed, local restaurants and shops were decorated and gleaming, and though Hera had attempted to shutter them - brothels and gambling dens were geared up for the impending crowds.

Invitations had been sent to gods and demigods - though Hera had pointedly ignored any of Zeus’s mortal or demigod bastards. She could not do the same for those of equal status, no matter how much she may have wished to bar them entry. The Accords demanded compromise from her the same as the rest.

Within the white palace, the buzz of activity was kept far from Hera and Hebe’s personal wing. Where once Zeus and his entourage had kept the halls full of mostly naked women - living art he had claimed - it was now nearly subdued in comparison. Hera had had the women removed and had brought on a staff of men who she required to be dressed in plumage of jeweled greens and blues. Though she kept them half-nude as well, she had not found the same joy in it her husband had seemed to with his staffing. Maybe one day a glimpse of the joy it had brought him would make itself obvious to her.

In the silence of the early morning, the queen stirred to life. The peacock servants stood at attention, always ready to assist her, though the ones in her rooms had the additional requirement of being blinded. Hestia had joked with her about the oddity of it for a non-virginal goddess, but Hera could not stand the thought of these mortal men able to look up on her form. Neither was she willing to invite women back to such familiarity. She burned with anger at how her husband had wielded it against her, and it had yet to abate.

One arm escaped from the soft covers, extended gracefully and just as quickly was embraced by the sleeve of a silk robe. The servant moved effortlessly, no matter his lack of sight, in wrapping his charge in her dressing robe as she drew herself from the bed. She sighed. Yes, she had arranged this celebration, but it did not mean she was eager to see it through. Especially with how absolutely deplorable Hebe’s attitude had been lately. It was like nothing Hera did was good enough in the eyes of her young daughter and she was being nothing more than an ungrateful brat.

“If my daughter tries to sleep in, you have my permission to douse her with iced water.” Hera waved one servant off to relay the message to the servants who waited on the girl.

It was the last moment of peace for the rest of the morning and afternoon. There was an endless stream of requests for audiences, last minute changes because of some drama or another that was now the most pressing issue of the millenia, and all of the other finishing touches Hera had wanted to oversee. As much as it irritated her, she enjoyed knowing there was a power in it. And it distracted her from other things she had been unable to resolve. The sky and thunder still remained out of her grasp.

The immortals and their entourage - limited by the Accords and custom - crowded a great courtyard. Peacocks, of both servant and animal kind, mixed between them. The mortal men served drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Disappointing to many, no doubt, was the lack of any other entertainment, the sort that had been common when Zeus reigned.

Hera approached the balcony where she would officially welcome those assembled with her daughter. She had chosen a structured top of deep nephrite color, high necked and with caped sleeves that enveloped her. Though her pants matched in color, they were of a wispy, ethereal fabric, that with the wide cut could forgivably be mistaken for a skirt of vintage design. A delicate crown of gold, adorned with jeweled bulls nestled into her dark hair.

“You’re late.” She spoke without turning when she heard Hebe join her. “Though some will crow endlessly about how fashionable that is for your own party.”