Disclaimer: I do not own anything. RR owns PJO. The government owns the rest.
Athena may have been Olympus's pride at the loom, but no one was a better liar than Hera.
Her magnum opus was a thick cloth that seemed to stretch onto forever. It contained every detail of the one idea she stood for— family. Intricate details connected Zeus to at least fifty other women, while the threads surrounding her siblings criss-crossed over and over. A black string led from her to Hephaestus, which Hera had been hesitant to add. Extending onwards and onwards, the heavenly fabric was her godly (and perhaps some other oddities) flesh and bone.
But as elaborate as the textile was, it didn't show much. Strings couldn't describe Kronos eating his children, nor could they tell a story with the siring of Thalia and Percy. With all the threads crossing over and beyond, it seemed as if this godly family couldn't get more dysfunctional, but that was wrong. Hera hated to go further than the cloth, it was constantly shattering mirror. The yarns were unable to express yarns. Threads couldn't tell the truth.
Likewise, Hera didn't put this tapestry in the great halls of Olympus.
A/N: This was a rather long drabble. It's not a fic though. Maybe a ficlet? Oh! How about a flash-fanfic? Whatever. The point is that hopefully this makes sense because I find Hera an intriguing character to write and I should really be doing my homework (and Nanowrimo), so I just scribbled this in 5 minutes. I think that's it. R/R!