Chapter 5: Hephaestus Falls

“Zeus ... the reason I live in torment ... I wasn’t always like this. A monster.”Hephaestus, God of War III, written by Marianne Krawczyk and Stig Asmussen, directed by Stig Asmussen, copyright © Sony Interactive Entertainment, 2010.

Zeus shifted the sheets of Leto’s bed.

He had come back to see her many times, and she did not deny him. Quite the opposite, in fact. She had been more than compliant to let him have her over and over.

Funnily enough, after each coupling with her, he was growing more and more disinterested. After a week, while she was attractive, he had enough of her sexual favors.

He dressed himself quickly. When he adjusted his robes, he turned his head to see Leto staring back at him.

Her eyes were piercing through him as Leto watched him. She wore a slight frown upon her face. When this did nothing to discourage Zeus, she propped herself on one elbow. “Are you leaving so soon? she asked softly.

Though she tried to hide it, disappointment, hurt, and irritation seeped into her words.

Zeus hesitated for a moment. After that second, he realized honesty would be his greatest ally in the moment. “I need to see Hera,” he replied. “She is late into her pregnancy, and I should be there for my son’s birth.”

His words held no malice towards her. However, the weight of his admission lingered on Leto’s face in a way he had not anticipated. Leto’s lips pressed together, clearly upset, but with Zeus being the King of Olympus, she could do nothing but remain silent.

She watched as he moved towards the door. Without further explanation, Zeus left.

For her part, Leto did not rail or scream or moan, but she gritted her teeth. All of her planning to get into her bed gained her nothing. He was quickly losing interest in her, and she knew that this would not be ideal for her.

She exhaled, wondering what would happen. Would she go back to being ignored until he wanted to use her again or ... was there going to be retribution for not pleasing him?

The worst part, to her, was she could not decide which one she wanted more.

If there was retribution, it meant she had succeeded, and that in some way, she mattered to him. To be altogether ignored was probably safer, but it meant ... it meant that in the end, she did not matter at all.

The nursery was a small room in Hera’s palace. With only one baby, she had only two torches on opposite walls, but Hera was starting to think that the room was dimly lit for two children, but she could not entirely be sure.

Motherhood was something new to her. Battle, politics, magic, and the intricacies of Olympus, she understood. Being a mom ... Well that was a new struggle altogether.

Hera gazed down at her sons with a heart heavy. She saw traits and values as people on the battlefield. That had been an essential quality when going into battle against the likes of Hyperion. When she moved onto being the Mage of Olympus, it was about being effective for the forward motion of Olympus. Never had she thought she would be queen.

Since rising to that station, Hera was acutely aware of the fact that she was being pulled in one hundred different directions. There were the masses that would never overthrow Zeus, but they wanted someone of compassion to listen to them, and her husband was not the man to hear what others had to say. There was her mother and grandmother planning for some... thing ... Hera could not be sure. Zeus wanted a perfectly docile wife. Hades would have enjoyed for her to return to him.

In the end, she would not be able to please any of them completely or at all. This led her to the conclusion that she had to live for herself and find her own happiness, but upon looking at her offspring, she could not even find happiness in the babies.

Little Ares and Hephaestus lay side by side in cribs. Hephaestus was nearly a year older than Ares, created by Hera and her own magic.

As she observed them, even at their young age, the differences were undeniable.

Ares was robustly strong, had a head of thick black hair, and an olive complexion any of the gods would have been jealous of. He would certainly be the equal to that armored goddess that Zeus doted on.

Hephaestus, on the other hand, appeared thin and frail, had wiry brown hair sticking out in sparse tufts, and pale skin contrasting starkly with Ares’ superiority. He would never fit in among the gods on the mountain of Olympus.

She shook her head as a pang of guilt twisted in Hera’s chest. It was unfair to compare her children; she knew that even as she continued to examine them. They were each unique in their own way. She had to remind herself about that fact.

Hephaestus was entirely made from Hera and her magic while Ares was created from the more traditional coupling. Perhaps that was why he appeared better than her own child; he had diversity where Hephaestus had none, but Pontus had been made by Gaia alone, and he was just as much a Primordial as Gaia was. Did not his prolonged war against Oceanus prove as much?

Whatever her feelings on progeny, Ares was the son of Zeus and Hera, and that was the only difference Hera could see. Maybe a child of both their combined powers created better diversity in the divinity. Maybe it was because Hera was too young to make her own creation, conceived from her magic alone.

This could have been a reminder from Chaos that her efforts to prove her independence of Zeus was too soon maybe. She could not know. Maybe powers required time to mature before making one on her own, maybe diversity is the key to a truly powerful god.

Whatever it was, the simple truth was that Hera was looking at Hephaestus’ fragile form as opposed to this warrior of a baby. She could not help but compare the two boys; the contrast stung her pride.

A tear slipped down her cheek when she continued the comparison. The flaw must be her. Why else would one child be superior to the other?

Why else would Zeus’ affections wander? She must be inferior to other goddesses. That was it; this was why he missed the birth of his own son. Zeus was with another. It was the only viable solution.

Her position as Queen was less certain. She could be discarded. She was disposable. Hera gently brushed her fingers over Hephaestus’ hand. She struggled with her doubts of position. Having such a weak son would link her to that failure.

The weight of everything bore down on her as she lingered by the cribs. These were her sons, and just a sign of the prison she was trapped in. They were her reward and the walls of her cage.

She turned away from them frustrated.

When she looked up, there was the source of her frustration.

There he was, standing at seven feet tall. Long flowing white hair. His once-reddish brown beard was becoming whiter by the day. He wore a tunic of gold and white. His golden wreath of a crown on his head made him look as regal as ever. His bronze sandals and bracers of gold only added to his appearance.

She loathed him at that moment for all of that and more.

Zeus strode past Hera with his typical confidence. While she was not one to balk at opposition, she felt that his very presence filled the room with an unspoken challenge. After her own conflict, Hera knew she could not do battle with him effectively; however, to do nothing allowed him to go unchecked, and she would not allow that to stand.

As he passed, Hera spoke up. “And where have you been?”

Without meeting her gaze, Zeus replied casually, “I’ve been out.”

He approached the cribs.

“You mean with someone else,” Hera commented.

Zeus ignored her statement. His gaze briefly settled on Hephaestus, scrutinizing the child. He was looking for something of merit within the being, but he found nothing. When his eyes looked upon Ares, he smiled.

A scoff escaped his lips. “This one,” he murmured, gesturing toward Hephaestus, “is weak. But Ares here ... our son is a true Olympian.”

How his wife could not know of his intention for the thrones, he could not know, but Zeus smiled. Ares would sit by his side along the other eleven individuals of Zeus’ choice.

Hera’s jaw clenched. While she did have her doubts, she would not accept any from her wayward husband. With her pride sufficiently stung, she. “They are both my sons,” she said pointedly.

Zeus raised an eyebrow to Hera. She actually believed that she was the special one in their marriage. He turned to face his wife with a gaze that was both sharp and dismissive. “Then perhaps you should reconsider crafting something broken.”

Hera had no response to Zeus. His jab had done the work he had intended in silencing her. While she stared in shock, he continued his attack.

He leaned in. A faint sneer curled on his mouth. “You know, dearest Hera, that other goddesses would cherish your place by my side. Maybe I could find one that would not create something so ... lacking.”

Hera stared, stunned and bewildered. She froze, unable to move or find her comeback.

Zeus accepted this as his cue to leave. He turned from his wife and headed for the doorway. A mocking chuckle echoed behind him as he left, leaving Hera alone.

In the dimly lit nursery, the Queen of Olympus seethed, frowned, and knew that perhaps Zeus was right, but she would not allow his threat to stand.

Gaia’s island was quiet as per usual for her. However, in the hush following Ares’ arrival, there was a certain weight to the silence for Rhea and Gaia.

Rhea slumped against the trunk of a tree. She was drained but her mind nevertheless churned.

Gaia watched her daughter thoughtfully. While she was one to always be steadfast and strong, especially in her planning for the future, her expression softened for her daughter. Gaia suspected her daughter had been struck by that illogical but all too powerful maternal instinct.

Rhea broke the silence. “Mother, I know distance is our plan. Hera is not meant to be privy to our plans, but ... she needs guidance. Zeus is hurting her, and it pains me to see her flounder from his ... less-than-delicate choices.”

“His choices were reinforced by us, if you recall, my daughter,” Gaia remarked. When she saw this answer did not please Rhea, Gaia went on. “What would you have us do?

“If we could offer her counsel, or at the very least, let her know there is a plan, maybe this will help ease her through this painful time,” Rhea remarked.

The answer did not come right away. For one such as Gaia, answers required thought. Sometimes, she had already given an idea much thought, long before a question was even asked, and when that happened, she could answer quickly, which made her look exceptionally wise. In a moment like this, with a question she had not anticipated, she called upon her many millennia of existence.

Gaia shook her head. “No, Rhea,” she said confidently. “Both Zeus and Hera must be allowed their freedom to make their own choices. If Zeus is to have a downfall, he must walk into it. If we help Hera, he will think we are his enemy, and he will plan accordingly. If we provide counsel, aide, or any dictation that will assist her, not only will Hera not find her own footing for independence, but Zeus will know he is being opposed and will salvage his own rulership.”

Rhea leaned forward. Maternal frustration was lingering and battling against the sound reason her mother gave “Look at what she’s endured! Going through birth alone while Zeus impregnates some other goddess! Zeus will twist and control her every action even if she is not aware of it!”

Tears started streaming down Rhea’s face. “Without direction, she’ll be fighting battles with no end in sigh!” She pressed a hand to her brow and shook her head

“Has the toll of Ares’ birth done so much damage to you?”

Rhea continued shaking her head. “What are we even doing, Gaia?” She held herself back from screaming at her Primordial mother, but only just. “What’s the point of cultivating someone who will hold Olympus together when Zeus finally falters if we are destroying everyone else along the way?.”

Gaia’s gaze softened. While she sympathized with her child, she knew what needed doing. “I understand your love for her, Rhea, but Hera must grow on her own. Our interference would only bind her to our plans. Would that not make us as bad as Zeus?”

Rhea sighed, glancing down at the dirt floor. It was clear she was troubled. “What then, Mother? What do we do?”

Gaia stopped, seeing how divided her mother was. “If us helping her directly might warn Zeus, maybe we should consult another.”

Rhea looked at her mother confused.