Hermes took the compliment for what it was - part flattery, part truth - and felt his lips twitch into a facsimile of a smile. He chose not to pursue that line of discussion any further, either, thinking it best to end on a high note. Truth be told, Hera’s backhanded compliments and sparse flattery did wonders for his bruised self-esteem, and it had successfully manipulated him from a point of definite negativity to reasonable skepticism. He even sat up a little straighter - without prompting. Oh, he still rested lazily against the pillows, but he popped himself up on one elbow and took a deep drink of wine. Resting the edge of the chalice against his bottom lip, he gave her words some thought. “Said spouse would have to accept such behavior, though,” he pointed out. “I find most of our kind tend to be rather jealous.” He himself wasn’t an exception to that rule, not in any way. “Fine.” 

“All marriages are not built on monogamy.” Of that, Hera was a first hand witness. In her youth it was all she wished for - a marriage built on a foundation of trust and respect, where her husband honored the vows he’d forced upon her and sought to make amends for his deception - but these days Hera knew better. Divine beings were too complex for a one-fits-all and each pair needed their own set of rules. “Nor is jealousy necessarily a bad thing.” Another thing she was willing to bear witness to. Hera was famed for her jealous nature and yet she accepted the scorn gracefully. Had it not been worse if she’d felt nothing? “Excellent.”

“There’s no limit to what I wouldn’t do to earn your forgiveness,” Hermes stated in a somber voice, the sincerity of his statement broken only by a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He swept his tongue across sharp canines and didn’t let her push him away, twisting away from her hand before it had the chance to impact. “No, I’m more of an experience,” he agreed, sidling up to Hera’s flank and throwing an arm across her shoulders. He tugged playfully at a lock of brown hair, just to be all the more irritating - though he did throw a glance around the garden to make sure none of her overbearing brothers were around to see it. Honestly, he didn’t even want to think about how much shit they’d give him for just looking at her. “I think we’ve got different takes on what respectful means, princess.” 

Hera’s comment cast a smirk on the queen’s lips. “Are you calling them children, sister?” She asked, displeasure changing into amusement as she took the wine the other offered with a thankful nod. It was a good thing they had brought some of Dionysus’ vintage with them, for Amphitrite wasn’t sure if she would be able to stomach more of that sweet honey wine they had been served before. Mead, that what they had called it, she thought as she took a sip. “Perhaps I was deceived by my own expectation. Their worshippers are great warriors and sailors. I was hoping for their gods to be more like…Well, your son or my husband!”

The last bit of tension left the queen, and she was the serene sea again. The only goddess capable of calming her husband’s dreaded temper. “It might help to learn more about our hosts as well. To not rely solely on rumors.” A finger tapped against her chin as she thought out loud. Her sister-in-law was right. There were different kinds of diplomacy, and they all served their purpose. “We should treat this more like a seduction, wrap them around our fingers.” There was little doubt that they would be able to achieve such a goal between them. “And once we have them eating out of our hands, they’ll accept any offers we’ll make.”      

“Of course not,” Hera denied blithely, “that would be insulting and against the diplomatic nature of our mission. I’m simply shining a light on the basis of their manners.” Which was, quite frankly, atrocious. Hera knew she held herself at a higher standard than most, but that didn’t excuse the uncivilized manner in which they’d been treated. “If your expectations were that high it does you honor. Seeing the potential of others isn’t something to scoff at, it’s a lovely trait.” A little naive, perhaps, but lovely all the same. Hera savored her first sip of wine and closed her eyes, allowing for a interlude as her body unwound from the stress of the evening, too. “Our worshipers are hardly an indication of our worth. Look at my beloved son. Misogynists and sadists pray to him every night as though he didn’t inherit Zeus’ sense of justice or bestowed the fighting-spirit unto women.” 

“Isn’t it convenient that I’m only part of this family when it suits it’s matriarch?” Hermes had promised himself not to let old wounds fester, to tamper down his petulant side, but she was making him emotional with all this talk of family. A part of him wanted Hera to acknowledge him once more, to make her say that he belonged on Olympus just like the rest of them, to repeat it again and again until he believed her and all his insecurities washed away. Another simply wanted to make her remember old sins. “Oh, are we calling it an opportunity now?” 

He sunk deeper still, until he was more or less laying flat on his back with pillows surrounding him, and stared up at the ceiling. The marble columns stretched as high as the stars, and amongst the beams of gold and stone different constellations could be spotted. Hera’s temple had been the first built on Olympus, a testament to her influence, and it was by far the most beautiful. “I wish to fill it with wine, travel, and promiscuity,” he muttered, more to himself than the queen.

“Not’s not a good one,” he repeated before quieting down. It didn’t feel like he had anything left to say, anymore arguments to offer up. “I won’t say yes,” he still stated stubbornly, “but I won’t— won’t completely dismiss the idea, either.” If only to get her to drop the subject for now.

“If I had the capacity to decide which of my husband’s children to include in this household, you and Athena would be one only ones left.” Hera played favorites and made no secret of it. Everyone was allowed to fight for her blessing, but the playing-field was certainly not even. Having nurtured two sons completely different from one another only to pitch them against each other, and having two daughters so alike it was difficult to tell them apart, Hera amused herself with watching her children tear at one another to win her favor. She loved them all dearly, of course, but sometimes it was better not catching her eye. “It has no other name.”

She wanted to tell him to sit up straight, wipe the sullen expression from his face, but that would ruin the illusion of them being more companionable than they were. “And you can,” she had heard him and a small crease between her eyebrows appeared. “Marriage isn’t a shackle unless you make it one. Drink, travel, be merry. Having a spouse to come home might even make it all the better.”

[PRINCESS MONOKE (1997) SENTENCE STARTER]

“No, but I don’t think it belongs on mine,” Hermes stated clearly. He might be a son of Zeus but at no point had he claimed that title as his own, nor wished for the responsibilities which came with being one of Zeus’ more prominent bastards. “I don’t aspire to be more than I am,” he tried with a different angle. “I’m opportunistic, not ambitious. There is a difference.”

Looking properly chastised, Hermes turned his glare on the wine in his chalice. It was a deep purple, the kind of color only the finest of Dionysus’ grapes produced, and he wondered how it came to fill a decanter in Hera’s temple. From what he knew Dionysus only gave it to his closest friends and there was no love between the Queen and the god of wine. “Of course it occurred to me, but this rot, as you call it, has been growing inside of me for as long as I can remember. Cutting off a branch wouldn’t do anything. You’d have to uproot the whole tree.” As much as Hera despised the nature metaphors, Hermes found them helpful. It was easier to speak in metaphors than to face such a hard truth head on, and he’d always been a coward.

“I don’t—” he bit off another childish complaint. Why was it so difficult to argue with Hera? Why couldn’t he simply get up and leave? That would surely put an end to this preposterous conversation. “It’s just not a good idea.” 

“We share the burden of responsibility, child. It’s been that way since our creation. Do you think our domains were created by chance? That this all-” she swept her hand around her temple, gesturing to Olympus as a whole “- came to be by accident. We have a heritage to preserve and honor. You do too. You’re part of this family.” Was she laying it on a little thick? Yes, but it appeared to be working. Hermes only had a few kinks in his armor as far as Hera could tell. His abandonment issues and ill-hidden inferiority complex made this line of manipulation easy to follow. “So why deny yourself this opportunity?”

Hera didn’t know where Hermes’ thoughts wandered as he stared into his chalice but she allowed him this pause and peace of mind. Sometimes processing your thoughts was a good thing. She didn’t want to barrage him with ideas and suggestions when chances were he’d reach her conclusion by his own, given time and a slight nudge in the right direction. “Be that as it may, but you have the opportunity to grow something new. To expand your garden and fill it with whatever you wish.” 

“Me? Never.” Civility was overrated, Hermes had learned that early in life. Growing up in Arcadia surrounded by his aunts and cousins had stripped him of the shackles of morality and decorum. Oh, he knew how to put them on if the situations demanded it, but their weight never got easier to bear. “You’re the one who assumed my intentions were dishonorable. I simply offered to make up for disappointing you, the how is still open for negotiation.” He had to admit, Hera’s arrogance was one of her favorite traits. He couldn’t stand demure women, they differed too much from what he’d grown up around. 

“I don’t know about everyone,” he smiled and trailed off, unable to pretend any-longer like the whole of Olympus weren’t completely smitten by their princess. “Are you not up to the challenge?” He didn’t let her get far, hasting to catch up with the goddess and block her path, walking backwards to be right in her way. He leaned forward and smiled down at her. “And what does the daughter of Rhea wish to do right now, hmm?” 

Hera was too much of a lady to roll her eyes but disbelief radiated from her like the first flame Prometheus bestowed upon the mortal world. Hidden beneath was a speck of amusement, a secret appreciation of Hermes’ unpolished ways, so different from what she was used to. Her brothers were crude too, but whatever rawness bled into their manners was unintentional. They lost grip of their tempers and manners and nothing was more unbecoming than a god spiraling out of control. Hermes knew exactly what he was doing. “You don’t say.” Oh, he was such a liar. “Then how far will you go to appease me, hmm?”

“It does if one’s not allowed to question orders.” Never mind that Hermes always questioned orders and rarely listened to anyone. He didn’t buy Hera’s spiel about responsibility and shouldering more than he was given. In the hierarchy of Olympus he often ended up close to the bottom, at least when the eleven other Olympians were considered. Why should he do more than he least amount of work, if they weren’t going to thank him for it? If all he would be given in return was a scolding for stepping out of line? “And you think a marriage is going to change that? If we are vulnerable then our priority should be influencing the mortal realm. Ares is doing well these days, more so than perhaps any other god.” 

Hermes blanched as Hades’ name was spoken for the very first time since he’d entered Hera’s temple. It’d become something he actively avoided saying and hearing, having too much connotations and weight still. Hermes’ fading glare returned full force as Hera brought up her oldest brother, and he had to fight down the urge to protest out of pure spite. “Fine,” he bit out, “it’ll take more than a tumultuous couple of years to change my alliance to him. Does that answer please you, my queen?” 

“I don’t— you know that isn’t true.” This was why Hermes didn’t like these types of discussions. He held Hera in higher regard than almost all Olympians, and the thought that she didn’t realize that made him almost desperate to clear up any misunderstandings. It didn’t once occur to him that she might still be manipulating him. “I trust your judgment more than anyone’s in matters of marriage, and I don’t for a moment doubt you’d be able to find me an acceptable spouse, I just— don’t want to.” It didn’t feel as quite a strong argument as his previous ones.

“My type hasn’t done me any good in the past. Belial was an utter disaster,” he complained, nose wrinkling at the memory. “And I only courted Ninkasi to mess with Dionysus.” Well, maybe not only to mess with his one and only younger brother, but it was a great motivator. 

There was that spark of ingenuity again, the one which proved Hermes belonged up among the clouds. He could compete with Athena’s strategic genius and Eris’ scheming brilliance at any given moment, provided he felt like applying himself to something other than trickery and delinquency. That Hermes had stumbled upon one of the primary strings in Hera’s web on intrigue wasn’t surprising, neither was the fact that he didn’t seem to realize it. “And I suppose you think the burden of our family should rest solely on the shoulders of my son?” 

“Don’t sharpen your tongue against me, child. I am simply trying to help you. Did it ever occur to you that nurturing that loyalty might be growing your dissatisfaction, too? Sometimes, cutting of a rotten branch is the only way to save the tree.” Nature metaphors? Who was she trying to be, Demeter? Hera regretted her choice of words but not their implication. She knew Hermes was co-dependent and loyal to her brother, and that no amount of reason could convince him to do her bidding while he still felt that way, but forcing Hermes to face those issues might be the best approach on the road to achieving her goal.

“Is that so? Then allow me to stay the night and I’ll do my utmost to make it up to you.” And risk the rage of her brothers? No thank you, but Hermes was a shameless flirt and Hera’s prim attitude was like cat-nip to his inner nymph. “My nature has nothing to do with this, as you well know.” Hera’s persistence, coupled with how his grandfather had treated Hermes’ mother throughout the ages, had finally pushed him to take a stand. 

“I suppose Poseidon doesn’t detest your company,” he shrugged, then leant forward and plucked her hand from her heart, bringing it to his lips. Feathers not even close to how ruffled he liked them. “You’re comparing degrees of idiocy, princess,” he smirked before giving her knuckles a chaste kiss. “Surely you can do better than that.”

“Don’t be insolent.” Was Hermes so worn out by civility that he could not bring himself to treat her with the bare minimum of respect her status demanded? Hera felt her cheeks redden, not with the bashfulness of a maiden but vexation. “What I know is you made an informed decision. It wasn’t the Moirai who brought you to us, it was I.” Hubris was for mortals - Hera could be as arrogant as she wanted. 

[continued from ↠ here]

“Oh, I disappoint you, princess? Damn, whatever will I do now?” She was right, of course. The youngest of Rhea’s daughters was rarely wrong and even when she were, Hermes seldom felt the need to call her out on it. But he did love to ruffle those perfect feathers and pull her hair so to speak. “You’re foolish if you think their threads are easily unraveled, and who’s to say the weave they’ve spun for Zeus’ precious sister isn’t the most glorious of all, hmm?” 

[PRINCESS MONOKE (1997) SENTENCE STARTER]

Perhaps it was their shared philosophy of the difference nuances of lying, or perhaps because so few of their peers were willing to differentiate so objectively, but Hera’s brand of manipulation made Hermes respect and covet her attention more. He knew he was being manipulated, but he also knew she was tailoring her replies to him, and that made him feel seen in a way which was wholly unusual for the young god. He could count the people who shared that ability on one hand. Unsurprisingly, half of them belonged to his own close family. “I’ve done what’s been asked of me. Is it my fault your husband and siblings lack the ability to think ahead?” He would not be blamed for their shortsightedness. Hermes put up a hand once more. “That said, that wasn’t an invitation for you to ask this of me. Also, I’ve yet to seen proof that my acceptance would benefit anyone other than you.” 

Gesturing back at the altar, his face took on a almost combative expression. “It’ll take more than a divorce and some unkind words to change my alliance. How is this beneficial to Olympus and the Underworld?” 

He sunk deeper into the sea of pillows, toga bunching around his knees and jewelry biting into his skin. His hand now rested flat across his eyes in a dramatic show of distress Dionysus would’ve been very proud of. “I thought this plan included me making someone fall in love. Am I to be the only one aware of the business side of this supposed marriage?” he questioned. “I’m not interested, my queen. If I don’t marry for love, then I’m not going to marry at all. Blame it on my mother’s side of the family if you want, but the idea of committing to someone without wanting them is simply abhorrent.” A romantic, huh. Who would’ve thought. Not Hermes, that’s for sure, and he internally frowned at this new self-discovery. 

A scoff escaped him. “Since when are we in need of an alliance with the Gaelic?” He pushed himself up on one elbow and imitated Hera’s gesture, almost expecting a chalice to magically float over his way too, then rolled his eyes when nothing happened. Fucking magic users. Leaning forward he manually poured himself a drink. “And what will help you narrow down the list?”

“If you know they lack the ability to think ahead, isn’t it your duty to offer a more permanent and beneficial solution? You’re not a child, Hermes. Doing the least amount of work simply because no one thinks to ask more of you doesn’t absolve you from responsibility.” He was partially to be blamed for their shortsightedness. Hermes was clever in a way few of the Olympians were. It wasn’t his prowess or strength that had raised him above demi-godhood and earned him a spot among the very best of them. He had shown potential from the start and it was a tragedy no one had sought to nurture it within him for so many decades. “It would benefit our family. We aren’t as powerful as we used to be and every decade new gods intrude on our domains. The longer we wait to establish relationships with the new guard and cement our alliances with the old, the more vulnerable we become.”

She looked back at the blood covered altar. From here she couldn’t see the lines or symbols but Hera remembered them. They hadn’t changed for a very long time. Their pantheon had become static, passive. They no lover coveted more than they had and perhaps it was the vanity in her, but Hera refused to see them reduced to nothing but lines in a history book. It was high time they began mobilizing again. Also, that would benefit Ares greatly. He was soon old enough to take over from his father, but without war between the realms or divinities, no one would look to him for guidance. She was facilitating a new era, though that was something Hera kept to herself. “Don’t use the Underworld as a synecdoche for Hades. Either be honest about where your alliances lie or don’t argue with me.”

“If you’re unwilling to open your heart to another spouse, then yes.” He couldn’t possibly have developed a moral compass, could he? Hera knew Hermes had his thoughts and ideas about his precious little humans and pacifism and all that, but he had never once shied away form toying with the gods’ emotions. “I will place blame where it resides, which is with you and no one else. You’ll marry for love or not at all? Don’t be naïve, Hermes. Monogamy is not in your nature and since you’ve already divorced one, I know you don’t hold my domain in high regard.” Her voice took on a decidedly cold tone. “I wouldn’t arrange a match I did not believe in, and I’d take everything you ask for into consideration. Want, or attraction, wouldn’t be an obstacle.” 

It was clear as day that Hera spoke to placate him. No lies slithered across her lips but they were twisted and manipulative all the same. By the fates, had he not been so upset, Hermes would’ve appreciated the effort. Hera had an effortless way with words. Perhaps not as poetic as Apollo or as soft spoken as Demeter, but she could wield them like few others, and Hermes couldn’t help but be affected. He calmed down some, but still glared at her. “If I’m selfish it’s because you’ve taught me to be so. How would I have fared if I hadn’t thought of myself when I lived here?” he questioned before abruptly making a disruptive gesture, dismissing his own words. He didn’t want to sound like a petulant child, didn’t want to bring up old grievances. “I can be of service in other ways,” he offered instead, softer this time, almost pleadingly. 

“Yes.” Deadpan and only slightly untrue. Hermes… wasn’t sure what warmth Hera felt for him. It wasn’t quite maternal, but she treated him with more kindness than Apollo or Artemis. She showed him small amounts of respect, had helped him when he asked for it, and was someone he looked up to in certain aspects of her divine duties. But did that mean he had to accept this scheme of hers? No. Not even if trying to marry him off was some sick show of affection from her side.

“You’re asking me to put aside my feelings on a most personal matter!” He protested as he followed her over to the seating area, throwing himself down on a pile of pillows scattered across the floor. Dragging his hands across his face and through his hair, Hermes let out a frustrated sound. “Obviously not, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to!” So much for not being a petulant child.

Looking at Hera through splayed fingers, Hermes’ lips took on a sour scowl. Alliances might be best built on mutual trust and respect, but that was no guarantee they’d work, either. “And whom, exactly, do you have in mind?” He wasn’t entertaining the idea, but— well, he didn’t want to touch their other discussions with a ten foot pole.

With two daughters prone to lies and deceit, Hera had seen first hand how unhelpful their way of doing this could be. Manipulation was a whole other artform. It demanded more from you than a simple lie, but it also yielded the best results. Kindness was one form of manipulation Hera favored, though she used it so sparsely people thought her incapable of it. Perhaps it was her stoic stature or serious nature, but some genuinely thought her unable to feel affection. They were wrong, of course, but she confessed to only using it whenever said kindness benefited her. More often it was wielded against boys like Hermes, insecure of their place in the world, desperate for someone to steer them right. “You can, and you have,” she admitted kindly, “but your services have been used in individual situations. When have you ever done anything to benefit this family in the long run, Hermes?”

“Marriage is only a personal matter if you decide to make it so.” This new trend of marrying for love which had arisen the past two decades was clouding the younger generation’s minds. “You know as well as I that most marriages have been based on mutual interests and comparable to business arrangements. This doesn’t have to be any different.” She gave Hermes a wholly unimpressed look. Such an opinionated boy. At least when he’d been married he’d aligned his interests with his husband’s. Now he was back to being selfish and individualistic once more. “Then you are a fool. A spouse would give you some much needed stability and support.”

Disbelief colored Hermes’ voice as he repeated his refusal, micro-expressions of anger and shock fitting across his face. As a young adult, no one had taken interest in his marital status, deeming him too irresponsible or lowly for it to be worth the effort, and his own mother had never cared for monogamy or anything the like. He’d been left blissfully alone to meander the world, exploring his desires and taking lovers whenever he pleased. It had been Hermes’ decision to get married, influenced and swayed by only his then husband, and the young god refused to have it any other way. “You are reducing my self-improvement to nothing but a consequence of married life, and I won’t stand for it. My marriage might’ve taught me to be a better man, but I won’t slip back into old habits simply because I’m single once more.” Well, not all of them.

Moving away from the altar, Hermes crossed his arms and dug his fingers into his skin. He wore a toga, for once, and had allowed Hebe to dress him up with all the usual Olympian accessories. Golden arm rings, new leather strings on his sandals, hair pulled back with a gleaming laurel. For a moment he was eerily like his haughty older brother, as he glared at Hera from a few feet away. “They cannot be that important if you find time to focus on me,” he bit out, his anger making him bold.

“That’s beside the point. I’m not cattle you can trade for favors, and any suitor you send my way will be turned away. I don’t want to be married off to anyone, especially not someone outside our pantheon!” Was that it? An underlying motive he hadn’t caught until now. Hermes stared at Hera with renewed horror. Was this just an elaborate ruse to remove him from their pantheon and pass him off to another?

Realistically, that would be a politically irresponsible move, and Hera was far too skilled to sacrifice Hermes’ diplomatic talents on the altar of foreign relations, but– his old insecurities were hard to silence. “If this is about alliances, tell me who you want and I’ll find another way to bring them into the fold.”

Hermes thought no one had paid attention to his marital status when he was younger but that only showcased his youth. Hera had been more than aware of Hermes’ future potential, and she’d waited for the moment he grew out of his bad habits. Maia might not want monogamy for herself, but the oldest of the Pleiades wasn’t as vapid as she looked. Behind her blond hair and blue eyes, she possessed the same vicious and manipulative nature as all nymphs. Which made her easily swayed. Luckily for Hermes, no one had thought to ask for Maia’s assistance in the past, the woman easily forgotten in the shadow of her past lover. And that was yet another reason Hermes had been left alone. Zeus didn’t have the mind for arranging marriages and forging bonds through matrimony, and never once had it crossed his mind to use Hermes as a pawn. Not for that purpose, at least.

“Hermes, dear,” Hera sighed, “I’m not reducing your actions, not by any means. You’ve improved greatly and we’re all so proud of you, but what good is your improvement if you do not use it to benefit your family? That selfish streak of yours is the only thing stopping you from embracing us and being embraced in turn.” Oh, Hera was well aware of Hermes’ insecurities. Most children of Olympus grew up thirsting for their parents approval and attention. Hermes more than most. He’d grown out of the more extreme attention-seeking flaws, but the need to be seen still existed.

“Nothing is more important to me than my children’s health and happiness, but I want you to do well, too. Is that so hard to believe?” They’d grown closer these past years, ever since Hermes first got married and Hera was forced to view him as something other than her husband’s bastard. Now, she was reaping the reward in form of ethos and pathos. Hermes couldn’t deny Hera had shown him kindness; there was a reason he spent more time with her than any of the older gods on Olympus.

“And I am not treating you like cattle. I’m treating you like a confidant, someone I trust to be level-headed when it comes to matters of the state. You are clever and if you put aside your feelings, you’d see I’m right. A union between you and someone from another pantheon would strengthen not only your position but our entire family’s. Do you think anyone here would dare to disrespect you if you had a powerful, foreign spouse backing you up? Someone without familial ties.”

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ REVOLTING PEOPLE / 3.04 // accepting

@vengefulnature​ asked:  ‘i thought they had a bit of an attitude.’

Amphitrite found that to be somewhat of an understatement. “I would’ve called it blatant disrespect. We are queens, and we should be treated accordingly.” The queen-goddess of the sea didn’t mind informality, as long as it was appropriate and the situation allowed it. Hera and she had come here to represent their pantheon and their husbands. Was it too much to expect the respect tied to their titles and status? Or perhaps too much of her king’s harsh and passionate character had rubbed off on the queen. Perhaps, for prudence’s sake, she should turn a blind eye and hope for improvement in their hosts’ manners.

At least the quarters they had been given reflected their importance. And the food and drink they’d been served were acceptable, even if it wasn’t the to queens taste.

A long sigh escaped Amphitrite as she leaned back on her seat. “I don’t think I’m made for diplomacy,” she admitted. After her marriage to Poseidon, she had vowed that she would share his duties, that they would work as a team. Her wish to prove herself to Poseidon put her more on edge than she wanted to admit. She was his queen for a long time now, but she never fully let go of her need to show Poseidon that he had not made a mistake marrying her. That she had not made an error excepting his proposal.  

“At least you’re here with me!” Lips curled into a smile as she squeezed Hera’s hand.  

 “Tsk. Who are we to hold them to our standards? You wouldn’t ask a child to read the Odyssey, όχι?” Hera patted Amphitrite’s hand and gave her a placating smile. As much as she agreed with her sister-in-law, nothing could be gained by demanding something their hosts were incapable of giving. “Give them time and they will learn.” For now, they would do it Hera’s way – with dignity and patience. And then, in a decade or ten, she would raze their self-importance to the ground.

Hera stole a glance at her sister-in-law, eyes brimming with amusement and fondness in equal measure. “You are responsible for your own creation, dear, and there is nothing you cannot do.” The world needed more passionate and harsh women. They compensated for those who, like Hera, were too set in the ways of old. “Diplomacy is a multifaceted tool. There are those here who will respond better to your brand than mine. All we need to do is find out who they are.” 

Holding Amphitrite’s hand for a moment before letting to and reaching for a decanter full of wine, Hera served them each a chalice. She poured the wine with a practiced hand, every movement so elegant it would put the graces to shame. "That I am, and I wouldn’t have come if you hadn’t agreed to go with me. I am grateful, Amphitrite, know that. You saved me from spending time with my sisters.”