Chapter 1: To be Free

“But, oh, to be free! ... To be my own master. Such a thing would be greater than all the magic and all the treasures in all the world!”

— Genie (as voiced by Robin Williams), Aladdin (1992), directed by Ron Clements and John Musker. Screenplay by Ron Clements, John Musker, Ted Elliott, and Terry Rossio. Produced by Walt Disney Feature Animation. Copyright © 1992 Walt Disney Pictures. All rights reserved.

In the fifty years after the defeat of Typhon, Zeus consolidated power around himself as the undisputed leader of Olympus. Where Ouranos and Cronos had dissent from others in their reign (especially in that of Rhea and Gaia), Zeus had none. His victory over Typhon had been an act of such supremacy that no one else could do, so this event separated him from his predecessors.

Victory bred popularity amongst the masses, even if that rabble was divine.

That did not stop Hera from having her suspicions about the King of Olympus while she sat alone in her palace. Metis had been so sure of her own demise. Zeus was more powerful than ever, and with no way to analyze Typhon in his ‘supposed’ weakness.

Since her decision to not see Hades, Hera realized that it did not matter what she knew. There was no escape from the design of the other gods. She could see it.

Gaia and Rhea had spun an intricate design worthy of the Moirai. The Moirai knew the future, or controlled it; there was nothing to be done by someone of the likes of Hera. Zeus ... He had power unimaginable to any single god. There was nothing to be done about him.

He would not be removed from power. Anyone that stood in Zeus’ way would be destroyed. Hera could see that.

There was no future out of their control. She was bound to Rhea, and by extension, Gaia. Hera was part of a larger game that she would never be free of. There was a peace to be found in futility. When one was aware of the options that she did not have, she suddenly became aware of the choices she did.

She had no future in a husband in Hades, so her love from him and for him would wallow and falter; even she understood that. She had been coming and going from the Underworld since Hades ascended to power in that Realm, but that time was borrowed, which meant (in the end) that relationship would have to come to an end. She would someday be trapped in a marriage with Zeus.

The youngest daughter of Rhea recognized that truth as she stared at the wall.

However, something in that inevitability clarified the rest. She decided to take a small leaf from Gaia’s tree. Looking down at her stomach, Hera was molding life within her. If she was to be Zeus’ someday bride and carry his multitudes, her first child would be of her own making before he became an unfaithful, power-hungry wretch.

Her little Hephaestus would be a confirmation of her own grand designs. Hera would find a way forward in the Realm of Olympus, not as a powerless being, but as a future queen in her own right, and in the centuries to come, she would be a force unlike that of Zeus, Rhea, and Gaia.

The nucleus of Gaia’s island had never before experienced such hostile friction and bewilderment as it did at that moment. Nestled within a grove, surrounded by trees from nearly the dawn of time, there was a table made of wood and vine. The legs of this table were firmly planted into the soil of the land. The top was smooth and polished by the magic of the mighty Earth Primordial.

Rhea and Gaia sat across from one another in chairs that had been summoned from the island itself. The air was sweet with the fragrance of blooming flowers while the tension between them only mounted by the moment.

Rhea’s face was marked by lines of concern over the uncertainty that the last fifty years had brought them. The former Queen of Olympus had hoped that the unleashing of Typhon on Zeus and his Olympus would lead to Zeus relying heavily on the wisdom of herself and her mother; unfortunately, the event had backfired in the worst way possible.

By the edge of a calm lake, Gaia looked away from her daughter to appreciate the shiny depths of the water. As opposed to her daughter, the Earth Primordial appeared at peace. Inwardly, she recalled a time when the world was wild and new, when she had been Queen of Olympus. Her eyes were older than time itself, and they had seen wonders and tragedies of everything since the birth of Cronos.