Chapter 1: The Headache

Life on Olympus was perfect. The Titans were defeated, Typhon was buried under his volcanic prison, Zeus had garnered some sort of peace treaty with rulers of other realms, and on her terrace, Hera knew she had the first true heir of Olympus within her belly.

Hera stood on her marble balcony with the crisp wind weaving through her dark brown curls. Zephyrus (the east wind) was doing his job with the cool breeze. She would need to thank him for his service. One by one, the gods on Olympus were finding their place in the natural order.

The crown on her head had been a gift from Gaia, but that too reminded her of the order that she and her new husband were making. Chaos was the parent to Gaia ... Anarchy, disorder, the infinite, the possible ... Those were all the qualities that personified the Progenitor, or so Hera had been told. Rhea had told this to Hera, and Gaia had told Rhea. No living god had even met Chaos.

Was Hera just trying to find meaning in a meaningless life? There was no point to any of it.

Part of her wondered how she could think that even as her gaze wandered over the sprawling city of Olympus. The temples and sanctuaries were immaculate in their buildings. This city was overflowing with divine life unlike during the reign of her father, Cronos.

During his time in charge, Hera had not seen much of the realm, divine or otherwise. She had been a sheltered girl, trained by Rhea in the hopes that the arcane arts would bolster Hera’s abilities during a conflict that Hera had not dreamed of. Still, her mother had been right. The Great War had come, the gods had won, and Hera was Queen of Olympus like Rhea and Gaia before her. She had won prestige, power, and a beautiful palace with a view like no other.

From this beautiful view-giving terrace, Hera could see the landscape, the sacred gardens, the fountains singing with enchanted waters, and in the distance, the mortal realm below. Her palace sat upon Mount Olympus like the most beautiful gem upon the crown of creation.

Her fingers drifted absentmindedly to her abdomen because of a flicker of warmth stirred deep within her. She knew with the greatest of certainty that she was with child.

Her new life as Queen was in motion, just as Rhea and Gaia had wanted. Just as her mother had prepared her for the Great War, Rhea had raised Hera with the expectation that the youngest daughter of Rhea and Cronos would be queen. What Hera was not sure about when it came to her new blessing and burden was why she had been installed into the position. This, of course, sent a cascade of emotions through her: Anger, pride, anticipation, uncertainty, and fear.

Everything that had been maneuvered, to a point, was for her to be queen. It did not make sense from her perspective. Was she more capable than her sisters? Maybe. Demeter was always so stalwart and dignified. Another way to look at her was as a frosty bitch, but Hera did love her company and friendship. Hestia was so bubbly and giving despite her lack of romantic affection to anyone. She cared more for the Great Flame of hers, more than anything else.

Hera understood her ascent had been fought for, but not by her or her sister. This launched her beyond the shadows cast by others. No other goddess or titaness could be her equal in the future. Only two other divine women had ever sat where she had. Her place beside Zeus, as both his wife and as Queen of Olympus, should have been a dream come true, but given how she had been given the station, she had questions bouncing about in her mind.

What did it mean to be Queen? What would it demand from her? How was she different from her predecessors?

From the terrace, everything seemed to stretch beneath her sandaled feet. The height made all of Olympus seem smaller, and therefore manageable, to her. She knew that ruling was not the same as looking down from her ceremonial pedestal.

She inhaled deeply. The air tasted of ambrosia and sea salt carried on the wind from distant shores. For the smallest of moments, Hera let herself feel the weight of what was to come. The child within her would change everything.

If the baby was a boy, would Zeus raise him to be a warrior? If the baby was a girl, what place would she have among the gods under Zeus as king? She knew that Zeus was not the most level-headed god. There were paths where events could twist and falter for her child.

What future would the child carve? Momentarily, she wondered, could she carve a path of her own in a place built by beings like Zeus? She shook her head. The thoughts were causing a headache. She knew it would be wrong for her to take away her child’s agency. Boy or girl, the child would have to forge their own path.

Her golden eyes drifted down, admiring her palace. It was the grandest in all of Olympus, second only to Zeus’s own sanctum at the mountain’s highest point on the peak’s city.

Deep down, she knew she was supposed to cherish her place in the hierarchy of the divine, yet still, she was struggling. This was not helping the pounding in her head. The pain was so great from going round and round over the same problems that she knew it was starting to affect her.

When that conclusion fully manifested itself, a sharp rap on the doors behind her, shattering the stillness. She turned her head slightly. Without the door open, she could not be sure who was on the other side, but she had a few guesses.

In the last moments of solitude, she stood there, waiting. The wind tugged gently at the hem of her white and gold dress. Regardless of any of her thoughts or doubts, she was the Queen of Olympus, and she would appear as such. Whomever her guest, she would not allow them to be plagued by even a fraction of the concern that haunted her.

The knock came again, quiet but insistent.

Without turning fully, Hera whispered under her breath, “Come in.”

Zeus walked through his amazing city of Olympus. After speaking with both Hestia and Prometheus, there was a lot of a reason to be positive about the future of Olympus.

He was not one to regularly share power, but after consuming Metis, his mind had become more pragmatic in finding solutions. One might have thought this was a more logical thinking, but he knew better. Logic was just reasoning made from observations or deductions. So long as one step made sense to the next, any argument could be justified.

As such, since his absorption of Metis, he had become able to see the differences between even that sort of thinking. It was yet another quality which separated him from the other gods on Olympus.

Prometheus was the only friend, his only equal in thinking. Before Metis, Prometheus had been insightful counsel, but with her essence within Zeus, the Fire Titan son of Iapetus was altogether irreplaceable.

Zeus recognized that Prometheus deserved his seat. The others were far more difficult. Poseidon might be intelligent to put there. He had been on the battlefield during the Great War. No one could question his might or courage.

Hades ... Thinking of Hades was not helping the pounding in Zeus’ head. The eldest son of Cronos and Rhea was always in the Underworld, but Zeus did not want his brother there for more reasons than just location.

Hera still had feelings for Hades. The Thunderer would have had to be a fool to not recognize that much of his wife’s desires.

While he walked, Zeus could feel his steps, usually thunderous with command, faltering. The ground beneath him was not as sure as it had been. He pressed a hand to his forehead as sharp pulses of pain cut through his skull.

He was struggling to think.

What he was certain of was that Hades would not have a seat of power on Olympus. It would be too complicated. The closer Hades was to Zeus, the more likely Hades might find out that Zeus had cheated Poseidon and Hades out of a fair draw at the lots. Poseidon would likely not care, but Hades would. Entitlement to the throne plus his attraction to Hera, Zeus’ wife and queen, would not do in the long haul.

The path forward was on where Hades was ostracized from Olympus. Zeus’ elder brother would have much to do in the Underworld. That could be the more public excuse. The other gods would accept this. Perhaps, Prometheus would see through it, but without all of the knowledge of what had been done to put Zeus into power, the titan would be unable to do much more than complain. Words, when dealing with the power of Olympus, were meaningless.

Of course, with a seat with the twelve, Prometheus might be able to see the logic behind Zeus’ thinking and support the decision for it.

The air around him was becoming heavier, oppressive even. The glimmering temples and monuments surrounding him were blurred at the edges of his vision. Never before had he had such an ache in his head.

A voice scratched from the back of his mind, growing louder.

“Are you sure? Are you sure?” the voice muttered over and over and over in his mind.

It was growing sharper and sharper in its relentless stabbing, like a spear point pressing against his skull.

The gods of Olympus gave their king a wide berth as he stumbled toward the nearest courtyard. No one said anything when he clutched at a pillar. The golden wreath on his head was becoming askew. Before he could catch his breath, a shadow shifted in the corner of his vision.

In a black dress flowing like liquid midnight, a lesser titaness came into view. The hem of the gown glided across the marble without a sound. Her golden eyes flickered with the barely hidden embers of ambition. Accompanied by her thin and gaunt features, she moved with eerie grace even for Olympus. Her lips curled upward—not in kindness, but with the subtle delight of opportunity.

“Zeus,” Leto said, her voice like a whisper threaded with silky kindness and poisonous intent. “You do not appear...” She paused, changing the thought she had. As the offspring of Coeus, her mind was quick thinking. “You seem unwell.”

Zeus groaned from the pain, rubbing his temple. Company could not help him in his suffering, only make the matter worse. The pressure within his skull was intensifying. What he would not give to be able to scratch his own mind out. “It’s ... nothing. Just a headache.”

Leto’s smile deepened while placing a delicate hand on his arm. Her fingers brushed across his strong arms, from bicep to the forearms covered by the bronze bracers. “Even rulers are not beyond exhaustion. Let me help you.”

She was careful not to allow pity to reach the tone of her words. If they did, Zeus might consider that quality to be her looking down on him. While had not interacted with him much, she had met his father a few times. If he was his father’s son, the suggestion that Zeus might benefit from leaning on her was going to be enough for him to put his trust in her.

He straightened, trying to shrug her off. The throbbing in his head robbed him of his usual resolve as well as his immense strength. “I’m fine, titaness,” Zeus muttered vaguely. He was not even entirely sure he was talking to a god or titan.

“Fine? No, you are not,” Leto said firmly, annoyed by his stubbornness. “Even kings bear burdens,” Leto went on. She was careful to return a sweetness to her words. The velvety whisper was meant to caress his ears even in the spaces between words. “You need assistance, not to do this alone, dearest Zeus,” she said, risking the familiarity.

The ache inside him dulled his sharpest instincts. “Perhaps you’re right.”