The Time of Zeus Book 5: the Coup
Copyright© 2025 by Carlos Santiago
Chapter 24: When Thunder Hesitates
“They need to be reminded of the order of things!”
— Zeus (as portrayed by Liam Neeson), Clash of the Titans (2010). Written by Travis Beacham and Phil Hay & Matt Manfredi. Directed by Louis Leterrier. Produced by Warner Bros. Pictures and Legendary Pictures. Copyright © 2010 Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. All rights reserved.
In the high, vaulted stillness of his palace, Zeus sat alone upon his throne.
Thoughts of Hera ran through his mind over and over again. The tribute to Hera went long into the morning before the people started to dissipate. He had heard whisperings of their happiness and contentment of her as ruler. The baskets and gifts to them were generous but more or less symbolic. The gods and goddesses had gone to her not out of fear but love.
Even those who had once kept a cautious distance, like Hermes and Ares, had joined in.
It was a rare but dangerous sight. If they all realized that they could remove him more easily than he removed Cronos or if they favored Hera long enough to instill her into power, he knew that the power structure of Olympus would change.
Her foolhardy revolution might have failed, but if the gods of Olympus tried to put her into power anyway, then the actions did not matter if the intention was fulfilled.
Hera, even in the humiliation of her punishment, still drew her audience. She commanded a loyalty that was not born of thunder or threat, which Zeus recognized, but that was not all he was. He was not bravado and hate. He had been worthy of respect when they needed him. He had created order by besting Cronos and Typhon, but in peace, when they were not distracted by this problem or that, he was becoming an inconvenience for them.
Zeus was finally understanding that the form of power that Hera truly wielded was not one of magic and might, but of affection and understanding. If ever there came a day where she understood that, she would rule over Olympus forever.
He leaned back, fingers curling along the armrest. He was circling over the same problem over and over again. She held down Olympus, united it somehow. He could not fathom as to why.
A flutter of wings broke the silence. Hermes landed lightly before the dais, bowing with a courtier’s grace, though his eyes sparkled with the mischief of one bringing troublesome news.
“Heya Pops,” Hermes began. His voice was bright, cheerful, and altogether impertinent. “Nyx will not be turning over Hypnos like you wanted.”
Zeus studied him for a moment. He could not recall why he had wanted Hypnos. Oh that was right. Hypnos supposedly had provided Hera with aid in her insurrection. He let out a small sigh.
What did it matter if Nyx’s son was involved? He was no longer the problem. Hera and her popularity was.
“And?”
This was all Zeus could ask when he finally came back around to Hermes.
Hermes tilted his head in confusion. He was looking over his father and his mood. Uncertainty was painted across his face.
“I thought ... Didn’t ... Didn’t you want to know, Pops?”
“I did,” Zeus said dismissively.
“Should I ... Shall I press the matter?”
Zeus waved a hand in quiet dismissal.
“No,” the king said. “Let the Underworld keep him. Nyx and my brother will play games regardless of what I say, and I’ve no appetite for more feuds today.”
The god of messengers inclined his head before dashing away.
With his problem taking the forefront of his thoughts again, Zeus wondered: Would matters be made worse if he freed Hera or if she stayed?
For all of the elements still attacking her body, the memory came unbidden, as if torn from the quintessential portion of her soul.
It was a simple, unbridled kiss.
The warmth of the sun in a world of marble coldness would never have provided such overwhelming fever.
Through all of the pain and chill, Hera’s breath caught as she replayed the recollection. The shadowed figure leaned in, lips meeting hers with a certainty she had not felt in centuries. And yet, there was such familiarity.
Such an intimate act was impossible. Those golden apples of Gaia’s forbade such an intercourse.
No one except Zeus could lay such a claim upon her without the world itself revolting against the Primordial Magic.
It could be no other. Her body was pristinely untouchable; she belonged to him. Not Hades, Cronos, Poseidon, Ouranos, Apollo, no god or goddess should have been allowed to touch her. The air between them, the weight of touch, and the seal of a kiss ... it all belonged to him.
Conversely...
No one, not even Zeus had kissed her with such sweetness, such fervor, such understanding ... It was as if this one person had known her all the days of her life. The contact was all she could have wanted from a partner and king.
Those thoughts seemed to shield her from the frost and the pain of the terrible punishment of Zeus.
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