A/N: Hey guys! As promised, I tried to upload this whole thing asap. Sorry if this sucks, I'm officially terrible at writing first chapters... Anyway, exams are coming up so the next update will be late. Uni is a killer...

Also: I am trying to make a mix out of the historical events that happened in Greece from the 1950s onwards and the actual myths, so it goes without saying, there will be changes and inaccuracies to the myths. Trying to imagine everyone in modern times is hard enough, let alone them being royal... For clarity's sake, I had to leave some of them behind or else we'd get everything too messed up.

So, the cast list is on my profile, so in case you feel lost (and in case I also haven't updated in forever) you can just go back there and remember who's who. It's not complete yet, and I'll add more characters as the story develops.

Also, I'm using the same method I used lately with Roses: one part on 3rd person POV, the other from Aphrodite's POV etc. Aphrodite will be the only first-person in the story because she's the main character of the story (and because she's also damn fun to write ;))

All the palaces mentioned in the story are the actual ones the actual former GRF used to occupy and now they belong to the Greek state.

Reviews are welcome :) Enjoy reading!

18 August 2006

Athens, Greece

Two in the morning

Silence.

She stood a few steps away from the door, her suitcases right behind her. The room was dark. Her husband was sitting on the bed. Right opposite her. He simply sat there, elbows on his knees, a glass of whiskey in his right hand. She couldn't see his face. She didn't know that he, too, was in disbelief. That he wished he could make everything stop. Even time itself.

Too many things were happening on such short notice. He could not take it anymore. None of them did.

He blamed himself for that. It was the least he could do.

He had let her down. Again. No matter the many promises he had made, or the many reassuring words he had uttered. He had given their marriage the final blow and, like glass, it had broken into many little pieces. All landing at his feet. He was staring at them. Admiring his creation...

Yet, he did not feel guilt.

She knew it. She had expected nothing less from him.

They refused to look at each other. Like little children who had broken each other's toys. They were tigers in a cage, walking in circles, unable and unwilling to attack first. If they succumbed, they'd both die.

They felt like the air in the room was suffocating them.

She put on her gloves. He looked at her. She had no tears left to cry and he felt too weak to break things. They had already been through that phase. Now it was all said and done between them.

Almost.

"I guess it's time," he said, breaking the silence.

She replied: "I'll call you when I get there."

"For heaven's sake, stop doing that!"

"I gave you time," she said calmly. "I gave you plenty of chances. Now I need to be alone. To think."

"Won't you at least tell me where you're going?"

She finally burst out: "You know it's all your fault!"

"I told you I'm sorry!"

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that!"

They had done it again. Once more, they had broken the rules of their game. People might hear them shouting. Perhaps some were already eavesdropping behind the closed doors. He came closer to her, yet he wouldn't touch her. She was a volcano about to erupt, the calm before and after the storm. He ought to keep a safe distance. He tried to explain:

"It's... it's just who I am…"

She burst out laughing. He knew that reaction well. It was her shield, the curtain behind which she hid, so that no one would see her crying.

"You could've changed. Or tried to. If you loved me."

"But I do love you!"

Funny, how words lost their meaning after having been repeated for years on end. She would beg for them once, a long time ago, when she was still a young, naive, selfish girl. But now they were but sounds. Mere. Meaningless.

He noticed the tears in her eyes. She lost. She didn't care. They only certified what they both already knew. That her feelings for him were real. Despite the lies, the pain, the anger, and the shame. Despite everything.

Even after all these years.

They could hear the sound of the helicopter as it landed in their garden. That was it. There was no going back now.

She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and fixed her jacket. She went back to her old, practical self: "I'll have my Private Secretary release a statement tomorrow. That I am exhausted and need a holiday. No one will believe that, of course. But one of us has to take the bullet."

He simply nodded.

She wanted to get out of that room as soon as possible. Everything in there, from the bed to the flowers in the vase, reminded her of him. Of everything they had been through. Of the promises they had once made, the memories, the dreams… Her dreams…

Vain as they had turned out to be…

She had expected more from him, even though she knew she was only fooling herself. She did not like him standing motionless in front of her, his hands in his pockets, watching her walk away...

He knew that nothing could stop her from leaving. He had tried to do so in the past. He had even knelt before her and cried like a baby once. How foolish of both of them to believe that the worst was finally behind them...

He kept humiliating himself and she kept coming back to him. Why? She couldn't tell. The heart always works in funny ways. No one could control or understand it.

Oh, how she wished she had left the room already! But first, she had one last thing left to say:

"I'll be out of the picture for as long as it is necessary. Just do me a favour. Remember why I'm gone."

Regal as ever, she walked out of the room. Two seconds later, two footmen stormed in and hastily picked up her luggage. Shortly after the door behind them closed, he was still standing there, a King without his crown, vulnerable to the prying eyes of the world. The helicopter was taking off. If he had stepped closer to the window, he could have seen it.

But he didn't.

He poured himself another glass of whiskey and gulped it down at once. Then he filled it again. And again.

Until he couldn't take it anymore.

On the spur of the moment, he threw the glass against the wall. He watched it shatter, the brown drops of his drink falling to the floor. The leaks would still be there the next morning. Like the tears he refused to cry.

Then it hit him.

She was gone. For good. That had been the final stroke.

He swore that he could still feel her presence in the room. Her perfume was still lingering in the air.

He could hear her voice. The question she had longed to ask:

How can you be worlds apart from the person who once meant the world to you?

22 November 2006

John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York

Midnight

Just to set the record straight: I did not want to come back to Greece. Not so soon, anyway. I was actually planning on accepting that offer to become a Bond Girl and thus the first ever real-life Princess - let alone Crown Princess - to make it to Hollywood. Honestly, I'm good with handling guns. A look at some of those tabloid articles about me will prove it. Yes, I am aware that pistols are involved in action movies, but let's be real. Would Bond have been successful if he had kept it in his pants? Please.

Actually thinking about it, I think that is precisely the reason Zeus Almighty asked me to come back. He's such an ol' bore, His Majesty. All about being prim and proper, setting the good example, doing as you're told, don't break the protocol, don't wear revealing outfits, don't think, don't breathe… Coming from a man who's married twice, diddled his father and brothers out of the throne, and should be classified as walking chlamydia. Best part yet: he also has illegitimate children who, for fear of scandal and his wife's wrath, he still refuses to acknowledge, even though everyone knows that they exist. Except for Athena. But she's Zeus Almighty's favourite, so what do you expect? Hera doesn't seem to mind her much either. To tell you the truth, my darling stepmother seems to hate me more than her. It's not my fault, though. I was born to her husband's first wife, Dione, and there's nothing the Queen can do about it (ha!).

Zeus and Dione got married because of me. I was a tiny little nut in my mother's womb back then, but still big enough of a deal to cause trouble - my first scandal ever! Dad had been made the heir by then, although he was the youngest of five, but he would keep the throne on the condition that he was the first to marry. Yes, you read that right. So forgive me if I have my reasons to believe that I was conceived on purpose so that his oh, so bright way towards the throne of Greece would be free of obstacles…

How come Father becameseem King? Because his mother told him so. She had convinced him to convince the Parliament to convince the King to hold a referendum to decide which one of his sons, Hades, Poseidon or Zeus, would become the next monarch. It's easy to see why he won. Hades minds his own business (literally), Poseidon makes people have trust issues and Zeus is basically the Greek version of Bill Clinton. He is charismatic, which makes everyone love him immediately even though he has done terrible, terrible things in his lifetime (no offense to you, Mr. President!). Naturally, he did need his very own Hillary by his side and so he married Dione. Didn't work out because, well, he had an affair with Athena's mother. I have no idea what became of her, I think she died in childbirth. Mother would have none of Father's drooling around and so she took me and left the country, causing the Greek authorities to go after her as if she were a criminal. Back then I was only about a year old and the heir to the heir to the throne. Eventually, she was discovered in Cyprus - also where I was born - and was brought back to Greece. Once she had arrived in Athens, she sat down like a proper adult to have a long talk with my father and his father about my future.

All of that happened while Cronus was still King. It was his idea that Mother should forfeit her titles and simply become known as "the mother of Crown Princess Aphrodite." In return, she received a mansion, secretly paid for by her former in-laws, in Corinth, a town that's a short distance away from Athens, where I spent six months a year growing up. She even remarried four years later, to a millionaire businessman called Tantalus who's also a bit of an asshole, pardon mon French, and they moved to New York where they had three kids - Pelops, Broteas and Niobe. But he treats her well, she does seem happy.

Still, as I said, Zeus did need a wife in order for his dad to abdicate. When I was three, our very own Bill finally found his Hill in Hera. Actually, their story goes rather differently. She was his long-standing mistress who eventually became his wife and Queen. The role suits her. Not only is she the one to actually, secretly, reign over the country but she's also had to stand by her man when everyone knew that he was cheating on her and - better yet - went about impregnating his mistresses. I have no idea about the things they discuss, or how they are still married with Hera's dignity still kept intact. She's very much in love with him, even though he's a polygamist and can't understand women. Ironic, since most of his children are daughters, huh?

Anyway. A few things about Cronus before I go: he became King in 1962, after the death of his father (some say he poisoned him because he could no longer wait). A few years later, in 1967 to be precise, the military Junta happened and the dictator was a man with a funny voice and the most Greek name ever. When we got rid of them in 1974, monarchy was restored overnight and secretly from the Greeks, who would certainly want to get rid of us too. Anyway, Cronus returned from his exile in London and was once again King until Zeus and Hera's wedding in 1983. For the record, I was born in 1980 and yes, I did spend most of my life being known as the Crown Princess of Greece, thanks for asking. Cronus abdicated a week after Zeus and Hera's wedding and no, she wasn't pregnant. Originally, the plan was to hold the wedding and the coronation on the same day, but Zeus tried to make a good name for himself and he demanded change. First, no coronation takes place ever again and they are replaced with an inauguration ceremony in Parliament, thus saving the Greek state millions of wasted money, and second, that the law of absolute primogeniture is passed, pleasing the socialist government we had at the time and ensuring that, in the case he and Hera have sons, I am still the heiress to the throne. And that's the story he constantly tells me to remind me of the sort of example I should set as a monarch...

Better yet, he didn't even want to publicly acknowledge his illegitimate children - again, with the exception of Athena, who's also made a Commander in the Military. Or Colonel or something like that. Bet he could have also made her his heir if he could… Anyway, yeah, the ones who convinced him were actually his older sister, Hestia, and, believe it or not, Hera. But our sanity still remained intact, because Hestia refused to grant them royal titles. The socialist government of the 1980s though it was unfair for Hestia not to be able to ascend the throne on the grounds of her gender and, since she remained unmarried and lived in Greece, they gave her the power to decide who's royal and who's not. But she is the exception to the rule. When - and if - I ascend the throne, things will come back to normal and that right will pass down to me. Boy, won't that be fun!

One last thing: after the Junta was overthrown, King Cronus changed the name of the Royal House we descended from to the more Greek-sounding House of Olympios to keep anti-royalist sentiment from arising. The Royal Family needs to seem close to the people and so he named us after the largest mountain of Greece. But, apparently, he forgot that half the people in this country have Olympios as their last name and, after the then-Prime Minister kindly reminded him of that, he refused to have us known by that name, since we are royalty, alas different than all the rest of the citizens. Long story short, the Government had passed the law legitimizing us as the House of Olympios, yet followed the King's orders not to have us known as such, and thus Grandfather aroused an endless debate over our surname which is still going strong. Still, unofficially, we are known as Olympios. Officially, we don't have a last name and neither are we entitled to one. In case we do need it, we go by Greece. But the Greeks don't like having the name of their country be used as a name, and so some of us use the Spanish variation - de Grecia - to keep them from protesting. I may be known as H.R.H. Crown Princess Aphrodite of Greece, but the Constitution has a different opinion. It states that the King and the Queen are the only Greek citizens entitled to noble titles, leaving the rest of us be known simply as "the King's children". I am actually stated in there as H.R.H. Aphrodite, the King's daughter, Heiress to the Greek Throne. But you can still call me Princess for the sake of clarity. Bureaucracy is bad. Or so I'm being told.

OK, that's enough with History & Politics 101 for today. Time to move on with our lives and for me to enter that Royal Jet that will take me back to Greece.

23 November 2006

Mon Repo Palace, Corfu

Morning

Hera had woken up that morning feeling the calmest she had ever felt since her arrival in Corfu three months ago. Originally, she had planned on going to another country, but she didn't have the kind of relative freedom her step-daughter still enjoyed. The Queen of a country could not just pretend to have a reason for going into exile - or a long tour in Aphrodite's case - and let her problems solve themselves. Her duty, the very essence of her role, was the King. Had always been. She had to stay by his side, or at least be in the same country as him. When she had told Hestia she was coming, her sister-in-law did not protest.

She couldn't, of course. As the sister to the King, she was inferior to Hera. Still, alarmed as she was to the news of Hera's arrival, she had decided not to ask any questions. She did not like meddling in other people's private lives, especially those of the King and the Queen. Hera liked her for that. For the next three months, she would have a roof over her head, company, and plenty of time to think of her next steps. Her Private Secretary had said in his announcement that she would be recovering from a sudden and serious surge of pneumonia. An excuse good enough to keep the journalists from asking too many questions.

Nevertheless, some still remained unanswered. What was she going to do? Could she just forgive Zeus and come back to Athens? Somehow, what he had done had seemed like the cherry on top, the fatal blow...

She was brought back to reality by Hestia walking into the dining room. In this Palace - one of the smallest they owned - Hera had requested she had no footmen to do the pointless task of opening the doors for her. "I can use my own hands," she'd say. It was that familiar atmosphere of a home without the feeling of the staffers spying on them that Hera loved about that place.

"I was on the phone to Athens just now," Hestia said, pouring herself and Hera a cup of coffee. "Aphrodite is coming back. Today!"

Hera was surprised to hear that:

"What, so soon? I thought she would spend a few weeks with her mother in New York!"

"There has been a change of plans, apparently. Zeus asked her to be here this weekend. Something about an important announcement he has to make..."

"I wouldn't know anything about that, I'm afraid."

Well, that is a bit of a progress, Hestia thought. At least now the Queen was talking in full sentences. Since Hera's arrival in August, Hestia had failed to have a decent conversation with her. She couldn't blame her, though. She knew her brother well. But she felt that their duel, or whatever had happened between them this time, had gone on for long enough. They had to end it, for the sake of the Crown.

"It's been three months."

"Don't remind me."

It was an order, but Hestia still had something to say:

"You'll have to go back at some point in your life..."

Hera stared at the remaining coffee in her cup: "I don't think it's the right time yet."

"It will never be unless you make it!"

Hera looked at her, stunned. Hestia realized she had crossed the line, even though royal protocol was not followed among royalty in private, and collected herself. After apologizing, she furthered:

"With all due respect, I have not talked about it for three months, as you had asked me to. But we both know this can't go on forever. You needed time to think, and Zeus has given you plenty of that. People talk, the press is already speculating things. Terrible rumours, frankly, but enough to destroy everything you have both worked so hard for."

"I can't go back there!" Hera exclaimed.

The middle-aged Princess then realized that the King had done something unforgivable. If she could, she would comfort Hera the way a best friend was supposed to do. But she was inferior to the monarch and his consort, and, much as she and Hera got along, there were still limits on the things she could and could not ask. But now, they were talking as one woman to another. Surely that did allow her a bit of trespassing.

"You still love him, don't you?"

"It's not enough anymore."

That was all the reassurance that Hestia needed. Since Hera obviously wished for the conversation to end, Hestia felt like her work was done. Then, Hera added:

"But I will think about it."

Hestia smiled:

"Thank you."

As she took another sip of her coffee, the Princess wondered, yet again, what Hera's world looked like. Since Hestia was the child of the former King and Queen, she knew the lengths the monarch and his consort ought to go to in order to protect the Crown and ensure the future of the Monarchy. Her own parents' marriage was also far from happy, but the world had no idea about it. They still do not know much about Cronus and Rhea's relationship. Yet, her father never did to her mother what Zeus did to his own wife. Everyone knew that he was a philanderer, yet she remained by his side, enduring one humiliation after another. She had to pretend that everything was all right. Like an actress without a script. Still, Hera had to choose between honesty and dignity.

She always chose the latter. Her return to Athens meant that she would have to pull off the same old acting trick once more. She would have to appear happy, vibrant and healthy.

Even worse - she had to look like everything was fine between her and the King.

Athens International Airport

Afternoon

Girls, a piece of advice: if you ever become a Princess, make sure that you enjoy the wild ride that is going to be your life.

But be careful. The job comes with benefits.

One of which is watching the Minister of Interior with a few other dignitaries waiting for the Royal Jet to land so that they can formally welcome you - and your band - back to the homeland. Who's the band, you may ask. My pet dog (a three-year-old Samoyed called Blanche), my two bodyguards, my Private Secretary, and all three of my ladies-in-waiting. Good for me, the jet is big enough to accommodate two (tiny) beds but nonetheless, I must admit that whoever came up with the idea was a genius. Or had very bad experiences with jet lag. Or was a woman who knew how long flights can damage the skin and how tired us women in the spotlight look afterwards. So, here's another piece of advice: sleep. Take it from a nocturnal animal with a huge amount of self-respect. It is good for your health and it works wonders if you want to look fresh. Because let me tell you, the cameras are all out there, all yours for the taking.

You can see them flashing the minute you step out of the aircraft. But luckily, we are at an airport, which means that the journalists can only take pictures of me from a safe distance. They are standing in a specially designed area, holding out their long-distance lenses. But I love landings. They are my favourite part of traveling, because it means I don't have to make any statements! Not until I have been officially welcomed, at least. But that happens only after I have been given some time to get myself settled in, unpack, and put on my slippers. In the meantime, all those interviewers and my Press Secretary can prepare the electric chair and the white lamp. The next day, they can interrogate me all they want. Suffer as I might, I won't reveal what the French president's favourite delicacy is. That's state secret.

On a side note, not to sound like a snob, but... I was expecting a grander reception. I had been told that the tour had been widely publicized in Greece and I was glad that I was exiled for nothing. For six months, I have been welcomed at airports by heads of state and government, red carpets, and hoards of dignitaries and journalists from the world's most famous news agencies. Some even had to stand in the pouring rain to see me disembark. I guess this is what happens when you spend too much time with those kinds of people. It does go to your head eventually. Blame the exhaustion.

Thankfully, I don't have to go through passport control and all that jazz. This has already been arranged via the Ministry of Interior. Well, if you ask me, I think it's a little far-fetched. I mean everyone knows who I am - especially in this country. Oh, well. By the way, here's a fun fact: I am stated in the passport as H.R.H. Crown Princess Aphrodite de Grecia, thanks to that 1994 law that instructs all Greek citizens to write their full names in their official documents. And we need to be the first to set a good example. I know, I can't believe it either. I don't know how this whole name fits in such a tiny space either. Frankly, I don't care either. After that box has been ticked too, we move on to the real VIP treatment.

Holding Blanche by her leash, I decide to do something unscripted. Instead of walking straight to the black Mercedes Benz right opposite me, I approach the journalists. Their cameras are flashing even more now and some are shoved straight at my face but I don't mind. I don't know why the Palace persisted I should be quiet and just go straight to the car like some sort of refuge. Much as I didn't like to be back just yet, I'm still the Crown Princess for heaven's sake!

"I am very, very glad to be back in my home country after six months abroad and I am looking forward to coming back to my normal schedule of engagements. Thank you!"

Short, sweet, and simple, don't you think? My bodyguards and aides look a bit tense. They had been warning me to stick to the Palace rule book, but oh well. They'll manage. They've certainly survived me for long enough. I make my way to the Mercedes Benz (paid for exclusively by the Greek state and adorning the Greek royal flag, lest I forget my own home country or my status). A similarly black Range Rover SUV waits right behind it, along with four policemen on their motorcycles.

Ah! The lovely feeling of being back home!

I know the roll. The bodyguard opens the door for me, the chauffeur is already in the car, the former sits next to the latter, I sit behind my security detail, and we leave at once. The rest of the band follow suit, with being encircled by the police. It is enough to drive you claustrophobic if you let it. I am going to spend my time either looking outside the window or falling asleep - whichever sounds more tempting. It's the best I can do, being cursed in the same car with the two least talkative people on this planet. My driver only speaks to let me know we are making excellent time and I don't like my bodyguard. I think he's spying on me. Zeus Almighty hired him with the instructions that he kept a close eye on me at all times and that he made sure I behaved myself at all times. Simply put, Father pays my stalker. But! I took my revenge on His Majesty and now I wish he never finds out...

I won't tell you what I had done. Hera knows part and parcel of it and that is more than enough for me. She was the one that came up with the idea for a tour, say I suddenly took an interest in the Greek diaspora and wished to see how the Greek communities worldwide were doing. The orders were clear: attract foreign capital and businesses to Greece, make the Royal Family known worldwide, promote my home country in all its glory... Things like that.

Long story short, the officials at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs were pulling their hair out (what was left of it, rather) the minute they were told. Such a lengthy tour, especially with the tight schedule Hera had suggested and which I had presented to the Minister instead, normally took at least two years of planning in advance. But the Athens Olympics two years ago had turned me into a much-loved figure worldwide apparently, which worked in our advantage. Our foreign allies made our lives easier and agreed to help the Ministry organize everything down to the slightest detail before my departure. The whole tour took about three months to plan, there were constant last-minute changes in my schedule during the tour, Greek organization has not improved, and I will be furious if we do not make it to the Guinness World Records for the speediest planning of a royal tour of all times. Needless to say, half of the people who helped organize it are bald now. Whoops!

I had better keep the budget for the new wardrobe I had issued a secret then. Men cannot really get the fuss over day outfits, coats, shoes, evening gowns, jewels, and other accessories. But in my defense, they had told me to look as glamorous as I could get. Apparently, I am quite famous for that as well.

Oh, dear, I really need a drink. I am terrible at being jet-lagged, tired, and sober at the same time.

Anyway, I'll keep you entertained and myself awoke by telling you that, if you take the Attica Tollway from Athens International Airport to the city centre, it will take about twenty minutes. Thanks, Olympics 2004! Not only did we upgrade the city by a mile, but we also got a new airport, making Athens oddly European for the capital of a Balkan country… Take a look at the block of flats on each side of the Tollway and you could swear you are in a third-world country instead. To our defense, we ain't exactly London or Paris - and never will be - but Athens has the unique talent to combine the old with the new, the pretty with the ugly, the grey with the colourful, which is what makes it such a wonderful, unique place.

Sorry. I sound like a tourist guide. It did work during those state banquets and unofficial lunches I'd have with world leaders when we'd run out of really exciting things to discuss. Most of them could talk for hours about their holidays in Greece and how much they missed life before becoming world leaders, I have no idea what to do with the information they had given me, but I remained dutiful to my role and kept promoting my country. I don't care that there were no journalists around. It still counts.

Oh, and before you ask! No, I don't have a driver's license. Zeus Almighty says I don't really need it since I'm being driven around everywhere. Personally, I think he worries I'll get too caught up on road trips and my new-found sense of independence that I'll forget all about my royal duties. Well, thank you, Father. I trust you, too.

As if that weren't enough, he is paying the fees for me to stay in the Royal Suite of the country's oldest and most luxurious hotel. It was a gift for my twenty-first birthday. Just don't tell the taxpayers. Father asked me what I had wanted and I replied, "My freedom". I actually meant that I needed more space to breathe, a less tight schedule and far less daily lectures on etiquette (I had perfected the art of the savoir-vivre by the time I was fifteen...). I ended up with the most lavish Royal Suite in Europe instead.

Lesson of the day: monarchs and parenthood do not mix.

But the hotel is located in Syntagma Square, the central square of Athens, so I guess that makes up for it. Forget about the Acropolis, this is actually the best part of Athens. You have the entire city at your feet - the country's largest shopping street just two minutes away, it takes up to ten minutes by car to reach the best kind of nightlife Athens has to offer, and you have the Hellenic Parliament within walking distance from the New Royal Palace. Somehow, I don't know why that is important. That coral neoclassical building you see first thing in the news when Greece is mentioned? That's the Parliament. It used to be the Old Royal Palace until 1913, when the Crown Princely Palace turned into the New Royal Palace. Or just Royal Palace for short.

I need to stop doing all that promoting...

Anyway, once we get there, my likable bodyguard (let's call him Doug because he looks like one), persists that I enter via the back door for "security reasons". He thinks we're still on tour, where security around me had to be tight, because I was a guest-of-honour. There's no need to treat me as the representative of Greece abroad anymore. I needed Doug then, because he has a black belt in karate. At least that's what he tells people. Weren't he so stuck up in rules and guidelines, I may have found him attractive…

The chauffeur gives the decisive vote: I am the boss here. Putting on my sunglasses like a random wannabe Hollywood diva, I get off the car, and off I go. Needless to say, this hotel looks more like a palace than the actual Royal Palace a short distance away… And with a much better food too…

The two receptionists recognize me, so they rush to hand the keys of the Royal Suite to my Secretary immediately. Room 516. All the employees here know who I am and have been instructed never to reveal to anyone - not even to their own families - that I have been living in there for the past five years. Part of the deal is that they keep anyone carrying a camera or looking remotely suspicious from entering the hotel. As if that weren't enough, Zeus Almighty hired two extra guards to stand outside my suite at nighttime. Stupid me, I was lured into this agreement because had promised me I'd stay here incognito... Still, the board of directors bent the rules and allowed me to keep Blanche. Darling little creature, she never barks! My maids live with me too, there's plenty of space for them to have their own beds.

My ever-faithful band follows me all the way to the Suite, in case I needed any further assistance, but I dismiss them for the day. All I want right now is a martini, a decent meal, and all the peace and quiet I could get to prepare for my audience with Mr. Big Boss and my press conference first thing tomorrow.

The minute I enter the room, I let Blanche off the leash and remove my high heels and coat. My two maids, who were already waiting for me, rush to tidy up my mess.

"Fix me a martini and draw me a bath, please. I'll stay home tonight."

One of them rushed to call one of the hotel's bars and the other to the bathroom. They know the drill: comfy clothes, room service, and a rom-com. Until they get everything ready, I have plenty of time to close my eyes and think of Grandmother Rhea's letter again. What was that about? She had sent it a few days ago from Crete, where she has been living for as long as I can remember, writing that I ought to come back to Greece because of an important announcement that would change everyone's lives forever…

Did Hera finally decide to divorce Zeus? Is he changing the law again and making Athena his heiress? Is anyone pregnant? Don't look at me, I'm smarter than that.

But then my private mobile phone rings. I have three of them. One for my family (it's the one that rings), the other for my staff, and the other for my security details. My tracking devices. In case I try to escape.

It's Mother. Oh, snap! I was supposed to call her the minute I was in the car to let her know I had arrived safely.

Well, then. I guess the House of Olympios can wait. They survived perfectly without me all that time, surely a day more wouldn't hurt.

Besides, if i had to choose between Niobe's antics and Zeus Almighty's glorious ideas, I pick my sister. By far.

Royal Palace, Athens

Evening

The two men, one in his mid-eighties, the other in his fifties, sat opposite each other in the King's Office. Both were familiar with this particular room, as well as they were with the job that came with it. Life works in weird ways. Two decades ago, Zeus was the one to sit in front of the mahogany desk, on that very chair his father was occupying now. Was Cronus jealous? He sure was. He hated this room. It was where he had signed his abdication papers and officially reduced himself to a failure for the world to see. Yes, it was a competition he had lost and he would never come to terms with it.

For an outsider, it seemed like a common meeting between King and subject. Or a very important discussion between father and son. Whichever interpretation one chose to give to the picture, both were right. But looking closely, you could see a war in action. A business deal was to be sealed and both wanted to take the hindmost.

The elderly man spoke first:

"I see that Hera has not come back yet. Is her illness really that... serious... that she had to go missing for three months?

Zeus hated the way Cronus uttered his wife's name. As if she were worthless. Years ago, he had called her "a gold digger" and "a whore" that could never become his son's rightful queen. Well, bad for him, things had changed now.

"The Queen isn't missing."

"She is not here. Do you know where she is?"

There was nothing worse Zeus could experience than his father pushing him against a wall. He no longer did it physically, as he had figured long ago that words made for a much better weapon. Zeus had to gain the upper hand again:

"I did not call you here today to have this kind of conversation!"

"Ah!" Cronus exclaimed. "Once again messed up, I see! Who's the lucky home-wrecker this time?"

Fine. If Cronus wanted to play the game the dirty way, Zeus had just the right card to deal:

"What about Mother, Father?"

Cronus stiffened at him being called anything other than 'Your Majesty,' even by his own child. Zeus had won this round. As the winner, he went on:

"She is still in Crete and from what I hear, you are not even trying to get her back."

The older king tried to make one last move:

"You did not handle things well, either. Sooner or later, the world will find out the truth about your wife's absence. Your reputation is already in tatters. You certainly don't want another scandal bringing you one step closer to being forced to give up the throne."

"There is someone to inherit it."

Unknowingly, Zeus had just made the perfect pass Cronus had been waiting for:

"And that… someone… the black sheep, the useless little socialite, where is she? Still in exile, too?"

"Within walking distance, as we speak. Safely in her hotel room, as she wished. She deserves it. In case you do not read the newspapers, here!"

Zeus grabbed the pile of the day's press resting on the right side of his desk and he shoved it in front of his father. Cronus read the headlines, one after another. Every single one of them, conservative or socialist, right-wing or left, praised Aphrodite for the success of her six-month-tour in Europe, Canada, and the U.S.

Cronus nodded, giving his son his satisfaction that he had won yet another round.

"Turns out, she is not as useless as I thought!" the older king said. "Hopefully she will seem as willing to do us one more favour."

"What I have in mind is far from that."

"What we have in mind is the only way to ensure stability and certainty."

How typical of his father, to take credit for everything!

"I dare say," Cronus added, "this is the only good idea you've had in your life. Brings about protection. If one scandal breaks out, others will follow. I think we all know who will be the first to go."

"I am to tell her the news. In private."

"And spare the world from witnessing a quality lesson in self-control? Why, that's cruel!"

"I cannot make the announcement without her consent!"

"You got married without our consent! Why the need for modesty now?"

"The word is common sense. And both Hera and Dione were approved by the Parliament. You just had to sign a piece of paper and keep quiet. Now, I have been King for twenty-three years and Aphrodite is the Crown Princess. Like it or not, she will find out from me, right here, in this very room!"

Zeus saw the look in Cronus' eyes. He knew he had angered him so much, it would only take one final straw to beat him.

"Now may I ask, Father, why you asked for an audience?"

He noticed Cronus clenching his fist and compressing his lips. The older man did not move. Instead, he kept staring at his son, knowing very well that he was humiliated once more, again in this very same room.

It did not surprise Zeus that his father stormed out of the room extremely fast for a man of his age. Without bowing to his King, no less. Once he was left on his own, Zeus felt he could breathe again. Opening the bottom drawer of his desk, he pulled out the bottle of brandy and a crystal glass. Pouring himself some, he also reached for a cigar in the case near the bottle in the drawer. He would smoke it by the window, watching the night fall over the city. The view of the busy street always helped him think.

He knew, of course, that Cronus would interfere. His father still hadn't come down from his high horse. Doing so would mean that he had accepted being less important than his youngest child. How ridiculous, Zeus thought. They were alike, much as he hated to admit it. They were both ambitious, selfish, hideous men gambling away members of their family, feelings, lives… All for the sake of something intangible, with a great view. The top. Money. Power. As much as they could get. They didn't care of the sacrifices they'd have to make, as long as they came out unharmed.

Hera took the bullet willingly. Aphrodite would be more of a handful.

It was no longer poker that they were playing.

It was Russian roulette.