Ice Queen, she is called. She knows that her reputation, both in the divine world and the mortal world, is, put bluntly, horrible. She also knows that there are other names which degrade her, humiliate her, and make her sound like a witch. She knows she is looked down upon, feared, hated. She is never loved, never respected, and never worshipped.
Sitting on her ice cold throne seems to reflect her inner state of being. Deceptively calm. Devoid of emotion. A figure so still that she could be a life-sized statue carved by a master craftsman, painted with precision and to the point of looking alive.
Sometimes, she muses bitterly, maybe it was better to be a statue than a living person…for statues are never hurt emotionally.
Physically, she is perfect. Flawless. Impeccable. Unblemished. Pure. Unsullied, bathing in the spring of Kanathos each start of the year, becoming a virgin once more. A regal woman, strong, prideful, and beautiful. Her looks are gorgeous, from her striking emerald eyes to her luscious, thick mane of brown hair which fell down her pale, smooth back like a chocolate waterfall, ending in loose, springy curls. Her body is immaculately proportioned—not too wide shoulders, breasts just the right size, flat abdomen, curving in at her waist and curving out at her thighs, ending in long, smooth, pale legs.
I'd rather be ugly and loved, than beautiful and hated.
How true that statement is. As perfect as she is on the outside, on the inside, scars mar her everywhere.
I used to be perfect inside as well.
It's true. Hera used to be innocent, carefree, and happy. A maiden wandering the vast expanses of a newly formed Earth, skipping with nymphs in green meadows, swimming with naiads, bathing in clear springs at the foot of thundering waterfalls.
Her purity was stolen from her.
She resisted the urge to bite her lips as she remembered the shameful, pain-filled day when she was taken forcefully by Zeus. Broken shards of memories flashed through her mind.
"Come on in." She said at the freezing cuckoo.
A shiver. How could she not have noticed the unnatural blue eyes of the cuckoo? The all too human eyes?
"Zeus!" She cried, surprised.
The pain threatened to overwhelm her, but she fought it silently, her stoic expression never changing.
"Zeus, what are you doing?" She gasped as he tore her dress off, lust burning in his eyes, darkening them.
The Olympians filtered into the Hall, laughing and chatting with each other, going to their respective thrones and waiting for the council to start.
She cried out in pain when he first took her. It felt like someone was ripping her apart. Then, as he pulled out and she recovered slightly, he thrust in again, savagely, and then her shriek of agony could be heard even at a distance, reverberating in the lush valleys she inhabited.
Her eyes stared ahead, their beautiful emerald colours dulling into a slate green.
The world spun around her. Drawing ragged breaths, she tried to focus on anything but the pain.
He walked into the room grandly, shining in all of his golden glory.
"Marry me." He said, smiling.
He approached her. Closer. Closer. Closer.
Marry him? The man who just raped her? Her own brother?
Her breath hitched slightly.
To cover up her shame. As the goddess of marriage, she could not let this happen. Looking into his smug eyes, she realised that he knew she could not refuse because of her pride, her honour.
He strode up to his throne and sat in it, looking content. Not even looking at her. She could only guess which mortal woman or nymph it was this time, but she lost track of his many affairs.
She nodded, defeated. A victorious smile curled on his lips as he flashed away, no doubt to boast of his achievement. Despair settled like a dead weight inside of her. What had she gotten herself into? Alas, it was her kind and trusting nature which led to this. From that day on, she vowed not to let anyone close to her, in fear of being hurt again.
"Hera? What is your opinion on this, sister?"
Hera jerked out of her trance, blinking at Hestia.
"I'm sorry, Hestia…what was that?" She said. The council turned to her with disbelieving expressions.
"Um, Hera, were you listening when we discussed the issue of infidelity?" Poseidon prompted. Hera nearly did a double take.
"No." She said.
"Well, we were saying that we would make another, more serious pact this time, to sire no more heroes unless they are needed for a prophecy. For all of the gods and goddesses." Zeus said anxiously.
Hera couldn't believe her ears. Not sire anymore heroes unless a prophecy needs them? It seemed too good to be true. All of those sons and daughters Zeus impregnated mortals with, and even immortals at times. Perseus…Roosevelt…all of his children with Europa…Helen…Polydeuces…Tantalus…Zethus, to name a few, not counting his immortal children, some even in the Olympian council.
"So, do you agree to this vote?" Artemis asked her eagerly.
"Yes." She whispered. "Yes, I do." She said, eyes watery. She honestly never thought that this was going to happen again.
"Then we have a vote." Zeus said smugly. "It is a close vote, but the deciding vote went to Ares, who vetoed against this decision. Thus, the notion is not passed."
Of course. Her heart plummeted deeper than Tartarus. It was foolish to get her hopes up. She should have known it was never going to work.
As the council filtered out, she remained on her throne, once again, resigning herself to the fate of forever being the Ice Queen of Olympus.