#ft zeus

There always was something so unexplainably enticing about a woman that emanated power. Even as she had been flitting about the bar dealing with regulars, witnessing the occasional drunk attempting to press their luck fixed with a stare that sent them scarpering -- Whoever the newcomer was, she held such magnetism and aloofness in equal measure it made her head spin, and Gia certainly planned on testing the boundaries of which she’d be met with before the night was out. After all, she’d yet to even order a drink, clearly lost in some issue related to whatever was on the other end of that phone she hadn’t looked from since she sat down -- And the bartender found herself hit with a perplexing urge to ease some of the tension lines currently etched into those stunning features. 

Leaning against the bar, she reached out a finger to nimbly press against the opposite end of the device, tilting it back gently. “Let’s not allow this useless hunk of metal to get you any more agitated, hm?” She added in way of explanation, fingertip dipping off the edge of her phone as quickly as it had been placed there. “Speaking from experience, I’d rather not deal with the fallout when it smashes against those bottles behind me; far too much effort on my part.” The brunette smirked, before leaning in a little. “So what can I get you, beautiful?” 

“I tried.”

Hera stared at the scene unfolding before her from the threshold of the palace kitchens. There was no servants, no maids and no cooks. They had all seemed to have some form of common sense and had disappeared from the crime scene that lay before the queen. 

Grey eyes were wide as she look in the sight. Jam seemed to seep from the walls, batter oozed from every imaginable work space. The air held the sightly acrid, distinct smell of burning. Hera watched as Hebe’s long blonde waves peeked at her from under the the long wooden table. Ares’ small, chubby legs could be seen as he swung from the chandelier overhead. 

In the centre of it all stood Zeus, his own eyes just as wide, his dark curls stained white with flour, a smear of chocolate across his cheek like a startling red cut welling with blood. 

“You were meant to stay in bed,” He protested weakly, watching her carefully, as if he was unsure of her reaction. “It was meant to be a surprise.” 

Hera dared a step into the kitchen, carefully avoiding a puddle of orange juice. Her gaze jumped from her two children to her husband and then to the tray held in his hands. 

Hera was not sure what it was meant to be, but with what imagination she had, she guessed that it was perhaps pancakes. She looked back at Zeus. 

Her lips twitched. 

In that moment, Ares chose to let go from the chandelier. 

Quick, Hera moved but her husband was faster, the tray crashing against the floor as strong arms caught the child. From under the table, Hebe gave a small yelp, darting out to rush beside her mother’s bare legs. 

There was a moment when the family could only stare at the crumpled mess of the tray, still raw batter and tea. A small collection of daises that had been wilting in a small tea cup was like a comical garnish on the so-called breakfast. 

A bubble of laughter rose up Hera’s throat and slipped from her lips. Her fingers flew to her mouth, eyes wide as she willed for the sound to stop, but she could not. The look of utter shock on her husband’s face only fueled it further. 

Hera knew that they all watched her, mouth’s open, as the queen of the gods doubled over, her hands clutching her stomach, tears forming at the corner of her eyes. 

“Hera...?” Zeus’ voice sounded bewildered if anything, which sobered the queen up enough to stand straight, wiping the tears from her eyes as she moved closer to observe the carnage. 

“I...”

“Tried, I know.” She finished, amusement still lighting her grey eyes, making her seem more like the girl who had married a king, not the regal and pristine queen she now was. Slowly, she reached out, a long pale gold finger running along his cheek, coming away red. 

The cool tart taste made her lips curve as she brought the mixture to her lips. “Raspberry,” She noted, mildly surprised. “My favorite.” 

The king and queen looked at each other, a strange shared moment where both their lips formed a smile. 

“I know it’s my birthday,” Hera whispered. “But please don’t bake me a cake.”

Zeus’ booming laughter filled the palace as she brought his lips down to hers.

They had fought before, of course. They had fought so hard that the whole of Olympus shook from their fury. The skies had turned a dark, bruise purple, streaks of lightening flashing followed by the roar of thunder. They have fought so badly that Hera willed the stars to cease from shining in the night sky, plunging the kingdom into darkness. They had fought so wildly that their rage threatened to split the kingdom in two.

But never, ever, in their eons together has husband and wife, had either of them walked out on the other. Perhaps it was an ode to their marriages vows – for better or for worse. Both Hera and Zeus always weathered whatever storm they created, always endured until it too came to pass.

Zeus may have always strayed from her side but Hera knew that when the pair were at odds, he committed himself to staying. To at least somewhat righting the mess between them. Maybe that was why Hera fought with him so much. It was a guarantee that he would stay with her long enough for her to know that a part of him still cared.

Yes, Zeus and Hera had always fought. But this time, this time was a little different.

She was not one for breaking their unspoken vows to each other, for she always thought that she honoured them more than he. But this time, this time Hera had felt a rage like no other.

He was having a baby. Just, not hers.

Long into the night she cursed his name, swore that the stars in heaven would rain down upon him and his bastard child and whore mother. She promised that the child would rip itself into this world and that Hera would ensure its life would be full of trials. 

But then he did the only thing he could - eyes flashing with what could only be described as an unspoken apology as he pulled rank. A king commanding his queen. She was not to interfere. 

Hera stared into the beautiful captivating eyes of her husband and knew that for the first time in her marriage, he saw the tears that were there. The ones she would not shed out of sheer pride. But he saw them nonetheless. Saw that he had crossed a line and that she too, would do the same in return.

She felt his gaze burning into her skin as she frantically packed, clutching what clothes her shaking hands could grasp, stuffing them into her bag. 

“Where are you going to go?” Zeus demanded, but Hera heard the faintest strain of panic.

Good. 

She ignored him, shouldering the bag as she moved to storm past him, his strong hands held her in place, held her at a breath’s distance. “Don’t go, Hera.” 

She stared up at him, her eyes wide and fought against her crumbling resolve. She wanted to bury herself in his arms, to demand that he make it all go away - the pain, the hurt, the entire mess the pair had caused between them. She wanted her husband back, not a king, but the man who whispered wicked things in her ear as they dined with other royals, the man who left little sea shells in the most strangest of places for her to find. The man who watched her with heavy-lidded eyes as her dress pooled to her feet every night and beckoned her to join him. The man who had only eyes for her. 

Sometimes, Hera felt as though she was loving a stranger. 

“Don’t go.” He repeated and Hera just shook her head, wrenching herself from his traitorous touch. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t trust herself to. They had said everything there was to say.  

Her heels echoed on the marble steps as she descended, her grip on the golden railing tight as she forced herself to move, forced herself to go. 

“Hera,” 

She paused half way down the stairs, turning back to find her husband leaning against the railing with a torn expression. The skin against his knuckles were strained as if he fought to stop himself from going after her. A heady silence followed as the two stared at each other, the void between them screaming for one to relent, for one to utter the words Hera craved. Perhaps, maybe, even Zeus craved to hear too. 

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Hera’s mouth tightened to stop herself from uttering them. She would not be the one to give in, not his time.

Finally, he sighed - for all the world looking like the god who had lived lifetimes upon lifetimes and had grown weary of it all. “Just…” He trailed off. “Don’t go where I can’t follow.” 

Hera swore his eyes spoke what his words did not - because I will follow you. Because she wanted, above all else, for him to come for her, to bring her home. To stop her. 

She nodded tightly and turned away, drawing in a deep breath willing herself to take another step, to keep going. 

Hera stared down at the crashing waves and shivered. The stray blades of grass tickled at her bare feet, her exposed golden skin prickling with goosebumps. The sea looked clear, a deep blue with white foam as the waves roared below them. Her heart thundered into her chest as she tried to calculate the jump, tried to reassure herself that she was immortal. 

A strong hand, large and slightly weathered, curled around her own. 

She glanced up, grey eyes wide and free of the pain she would later endure. This Hera was young, with a fresh face adorned with freckles, of full lips that did not know how to frown, how to sneer. The wind, tinged with the sweetness of the summer sun, brought a blush to her cheeks. But then, perhaps it was the doing of the man, the god, beside her. 

He had only been her husband for two sweet days - the gentle air stirring at dark curls that she had ran her fingers through the night before. Eyes that drank her in, as if he was committing her to memory, as if he wanted to savour the sight of her forever. 

His gaze made her aware of how little she wore - just a white two piece that exposed the swell of breast, the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips. Her whole body had been laid open to him since their vows but in that moment, Hera truly felt naked. Her free hand moved to shield her chest, attempting to hide the action behind a hand placed over her rapid heartbeat. Her body wasn’t as full or as inviting as the many other women who had stepped forward to be his wife. Women who were raised to be the dream of every man. Hera was a girl raised to fight, a body horned out of training, of wielding a sword, a bow, a dagger. She did not think it was her appearance that had made him choose her. 

But his gaze gleamed with knowing, Zeus’ free hand moving to gently remove her hand from her chest, a thumb gently brushing against the sensitive skin of her wrist. “Don’t hide from me,” His voice carried on the wind, soft, charming, inviting. It held the same intimacy that it had the night before as she lost herself in him over and over again until they both lay spent in sandy bed sheets, smelling of sea and sweat and their coupling. 

After a moment, Hera allowed her hand to drop. Her gaze turned back to the cliff’s edge and grimaced. 

It had been a hushed secret whispered between new lovers when she had told him that she could not swim. That she feared open bodies of water. Laughable, she knew, considering who her knew brother-in-law was. But when she had uttered the words, Hera’s new husband had sworn that he would teach her. That she would never fear drowning, least of all while he was with her. 

The hand that held hers tightened reassuringly, the other moving to tuck a loose blonde wave away from her face. The brush of his fingertips lingered by her cheek, trailing along the gentle slope. 

“You jump, I jump. Remember?” His voice was soft, gentle. Encouraging. It made her nod even when all she wished to do was turn and return to their secluded cabin. 

But the feel of his hand in hers, the solid, warm presence of his body next to her made her feel bold, reckless. Hera steeled her spine, eyes squeezing shut.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

Hera shook her head, keeping them firmly shut. 

The sudden brush of lips against hers made them spring open, taking in the sight of her husband’s teasing smile. With a gentle tug, he brought her closer to the cliff’s edge.

You jump, I jump. 

Hera looked up at Zeus, her grey eyes drinking the sight of him in. She stood beside him, knowing that a battle lay before them. Gods against gods. The threat of the titans loomed, like the dark purple of thunder clouds overhead. She watched as the man, the god, whom she was destined to marry raised a tabbed hand to her cheek. 

It was a chaste touch. Something so simple. The pair had barely acknowledged their impending nuptials, not when they had a kingdom to fight for. She nodded, just the slightest move of her head. She did not wish to break contact with him, though she did not know why. They hardly knew each other save from promises of marriage and a better kingdom. Of a better world. 

But he smelt like power, of the undercurrent of static and the rise of a revolution. Something wild and untambale. Something that made the soon-to-be-queen want more. 

But Hera stepped away - not because she wanted to, but because she too had a role to play in the games ahead. The young goddess that stood beside the lightening boy was not the poise and regal woman she would come to be. No, this Hera was a woman raised by a titan, brutal and war-ready. She raised her chin in acknowledgement, knowing that ten other Olympians stood near. Ready. 

Somewhere in the oncoming storm, Hera heard the first cry of battle. 

Fear spiked within her but for the first time, it wasn’t for herself. Her gaze sought his once more and despite the strangeness between them, the newness, she felt the first tug of something. 

“Promise me,” Her voice did not shake but the current of emotion was there. “Promise me you’ll live.” They were both about to face their fate, but beyond all comprehension, Hera had to believe that the god who promised a better future would live. She did not know if she would survive, if any of them would. But twelve gods and goddesses believed in something more, more than the brutality and cruelty that titans had imposed. 

“I promise,” The way he looked at her made Hera believe. Believe in anything. In that moment she knew that she would have walked across the battlefield unarmed if it would mean that she would get to him. Perhaps it was too much, this growing feeling inside of her. Too intense. Perhaps it would be her undoing someday. But here, in that moment, when she surely would face her death, she did not know anyone else she wished to walk into it with. 

“I promise,” He uttered again, though he could not keep such a thing. Not then. “I’ll always come back to you. Always.” A hand brushed against her. Another innocent touch shared by two near-strangers. Something so powerful, so important to her, even if the world was about to crumble around them. Such a grand and heavy promise between two who did not know if they would live the night, let alone eternity. But in that moment, Hera knew those words would push her, would make her fight to her dying breath if she had to. She had someone to live for. 

“I…” The queen of the gods paused, a strangely soft and uncommon expression crossing her features. Her lips pursed in thought, grey eyes seeing something, a memory, that had long come to pass. “I love my husband. I do. I love the way he smells, like the promise of rain before a storm - alive, electric. I love the way his laugh is like the boom of thunder. It echos throughout the palace and I can always hear it.” A small, albeit sad smile curved her lips. “I love how he can make you believe in anything, make you want to follow him blindly, recklessly without abandon. I - he - Zeus makes for a great king.”

Gia grabbed two flutes of champagne from a nearby waiter without a single misstep in her movements as she wandered up to her intended target. A light smile gracing her features when she held out the extra glass for Zara to take should she choose. “Entertaining on this level seems like thirsty work.” The brunette gave in way of explanation, knowing she was no doubt busy and yet infuriatingly unable to help wanting to be close since their brief interaction at the gate. “But I do have to ask, what’s with the God name cards? I feel like I’m missing a trick not knowing where I’m meant to be.”  

“My husband is my king and the father of my children, am I not suppose to love him? Especially when I feel anything but?” She gave a graceful shrug, her gaze turning to her impeccably manicured nails before grey eyes rose, pinning. “Has my husband not given me reason to be devoted to him?”