Chapter 4: Of Weddings and Memorials

“For it is the doom of men that they forget.”Merlin, Excalibur (1981)

The next week was a special kind of torture for Zeus. He knew that Demeter would not take rejection well, so he had to make a plan to distance himself from her while also planning a wedding to Hera.

Before too long, he simply decided to call all of the gods, with the exception of Hades, to Olympus for his declaration. He arranged for Cratus and his siblings to be in front of him just in case Demeter or anyone else reacted poorly.

As such, when the time came, the grand hall of Olympus echoed with sounds of murmurings and whispers. The gods and goddesses assembled in curiosity over what big announcement Zeus had in mind.

The many gazes were drawn towards the majestic throne where Zeus stood in front of in all his resplendent glory. His thunderous voice cut through the hushed anticipation...

“Gods of Olympus!” Zeus boomed. He made sure to stand as tall and kingly as possible. His voice carried to every ear, and the civilians of Olympus were carrying across the hall with an authority that brooked no dissent. “Today, I announce my decision to take a wife.”

A ripple of murmurs swept through the hall at his proclamation. Eyes looked throughout the hall, looking for who he chose. Some fell onto Demeter, others on Themis, some on a lesser titan called Leto, but none fell on the woman chosen.

“Hera,” he declared, his tone firm and unwavering, “will be my queen.”

As Zeus’ words rang out, they also sank in for two women in particular. Demeter’s dismay became palpable, mirroring that of Hera.

However, Demeter had hoped that Zeus was going to announce her. To have him say that would choose her was the dream. She had laid with him. She had surrendered her morals for him, but once he had what he wanted, he discarded her. The bitter sense of betrayal overwhelmed her as her eyes glared at the King.

Amidst the commotion and celebration that was overtaking all of the other gods, Zeus turned his gaze upon Demeter. She could see a mild form of contrition.

Demeter’s brow furrowed in consternation, her hands clenched at her sides, and she gritted her teeth in a loathing rage that was building within her. This would not be the end of this for her. She had every intention of taking this up with Zeus.

The shores of Gaia’s island were a relaxing environment that most gods would appreciate. Hera could not care for the ambience, the light, or the water. She teleported in looking for the one Titaness that could have done anything

Rhea was in the secluded grove that Hera had heard about from Zeus many times during the War. As she approached Rhea, Hera’s steps only grew more forceful.

“What did you do?” Hera said through gritted teeth.

“Hera,” Rhea greeted cheerily. “I had hoped you would come. Did Zeus make the announcement?”

Hera’s gaze bore into Rhea. “What ... did ... you ... do?” she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper. The restraint in her voice was the sign that Rhea needed to know she had crossed some line.

“You will not talk to me like that, little girl,” Rhea remarked, waving her off. A weak light emanated from Rhea to try and push Hera away.

The moment the magic touched Hera, the goddess reacted. She lifted her hand to dismiss Rhea’s halfhearted effort before lifting her hand and summoning her own power. Rhea froze, losing control of her own body as Hera turned her mother, forcing her to look her in the eyes.

Rhea’s gaze faltered into one of fear under Hera’s penetrating stare and exercise of power. For a moment, she seemed lost for words. While she had threatened Zeus to no avail, Hera had been given what Rhea had raised her up to only for Hera to react immediately.

“I will ask one more time before I mess up your pretty little paradise with your ichor,” Hera said through a menacing, oppressive state. “What did you do?”

Before Rhea could respond, the Earth Primordial emerged from the shadows. Her eyes were calm as she stood behind Hera. She did not move or attempt to strike the next Queen of Olympus.

“We have made you queen,” Gaia answered slowly. “The way we did so is immaterial, Granddaughter.”

“It matters to me! What did you do to Zeus?” she asked, keeping her mother in a state of paralysis.

“We reminded Zeus of his promise,” Gaia answered.

“Why?” Hera asked. She did not know it, but tears had formed in her eyes and started streaming down her face.

“Tears ... Really, Hera?” Gaia wondered. “For your Chthonic King?”

“For your taking away of my choice!” Hera screamed back. “I would have been content to stay on Olympus or even marry Zeus, but you’re trapping him with him. He will be my eternal prisoner. He will hate me. If you think he won’t make me suffer for it, you’re delusional.”

“We might not have done nothing,” Gaia replied.

“But you did!”

“Something you knew on instinct,” Gaia countered with a knowing look. “That’s what we need in a Queen. You saw our machinations. Maybe it was Zeus’ words, his inflections, the way he announced it. Who knows? Who cares! That you knew it what mattered.”

“But why?” Hera asked again.

“Because Zeus is a fool, a powerful fool, but a fool nonetheless. Olympus needs a steady hand, one who can use their instincts to plan ahead,” Gaia said intensely. “That is who you are, Hera. Deny it, run from it, hide away, but it is who you are. You are not meant to be some Underworld Queen, or some Magic Counselor to the King, nor the advisor to the Queen. You are meant to be the Queen of Olympus. It is time you start acting like it!”

Zeus’ palace echoed with the angry footsteps of Demeter. She struggled with the potent mixture of anger, betrayal, and confusion that swirled within her like a tornado. Because of the announcement days after them having sex, each emotion vyed for dominance even as she confronted the king of the gods.

Once within Zeus’ inner sanctum, she stared Zeus down in his throne.

Zeus looked up as Demeter entered. She could not read his expression. At the very least, she was certain that he had expected her anger as he had not so much as flinched.

“Demeter,” Zeus greeted, his voice cautious as he rose to his feet. “Now ... I know you’re upset,” he went on with raised hands. “But the situation is far more complex than you realize.

Demeter’s eyes blazed with a fury that Zeus had not seen since the Great War.

“Then explain it to me, Zeus!” she declared with a wrath more heated than Helios’ light. Her eyes stared at him with cutting coldness. “I thought ... since we ... I believed I was going to be your bride!”

Zeus would not buckle to her anger, no matter how justified it was. Rather, he sighed at the effort he would need to put in to placate this agricultural goddess. His shoulders slumped slightly at the weight of it all. He had known the confrontation was inevitable the moment he had given the declaration. Given her near passionless display in the bedroom, he was ill prepared for the raw emotion that radiated from the goddess.

“I made an oath to Rhea,” Zeus explained. He knew an outright lie might get him caught up in something dangerous. After all, he had no intention of battling Hades for the Throne of Olympus if Demeter knew that the oath had been exchanged for Rhea’s help in securing the throne. “As a show of honor to her, after I ascended the throne, I allowed her a single boon, where she could ask anything of me, and she has chosen who I will marry. I can not refuse her, Demeter.”

Demeter’s eyes narrowed as her lips curled into a sneer of suspicious cynicism. “Do you really expect me to believe that?” she scoffed. “After we spent the night together, Rhea demands that you marry Hera, and that this was not your plan all along?”

Zeus hesitated before stepping forward, allowing his anger to flow a little more freely. “Believe what you want” the Thunderer shot back. “I can understand your anger, Demeter, but I would not marry Hera of my own choosing!”

He was careful not to allow that deception to be the last thing she heard from him. “My hand was forced in this!”

Demeter’s expression softened slightly. If what he said was true, there was little to be done, by either of them. A begrudging acceptance started to overtake her despite her ire demanding she take retribution on the King of Olympus.

“Very well,” she conceded with a smooth, cool tone. “I will accept this ... for now, but know this: If I find that you have lied to me, Zeus, I will not forgive you for the betrayal.”

Demeter turned on her heel and strode from the chamber. There was someone else she would need to see. She could allow her rage out upon this individual, and no one was going to stop her.

Prometheus was most comfortable when he was in his workshop. The flickering light of the forge, the stone walls, the tools, the workbench, the creations. This was where he was meant to be.

And with this new project, he was not making new life. Instead, he was commemorating a lost life. Prometheus had chiseled away at the figure of Metis from the block of marble. He had considered using bronze as the medium for preserving the Oceanid, but after creating humanity from bronze on Metis’ advice, the son of Iapetus did not want to use the same medium for her. She was wholly unique and should be preserved as such.