Chapter Two: A Rose's Thorns

Disclaimer: I don't own Greek mythology.

A/N: Thanks to jermofobe, Zoe, Drama Queen 10155, Black Rose Writing, and Ramzes for your reviews! You're the ones who inspire me to keep writing. D


Hades gave a cry of alarm as he sprang up, he stood over Hera and gently cradled her face in his hands. Internally, he knew that this would happen, his poison was so effective it would induce a coma that could last for a few days or even weeks. He did not, however, expect to feel so much panic at the sight of the comatose queen, who looked like she would soon be joining him permanently in the Underworld. He paid no attention to Zeus, who stood back and finally looked as though he understood the precarious nature of the situation.

"Good grief, Hades, what is happening to her?" Zeus asked hoarsely, his posture sagged with worry. The proud god had lost his characteristic expression of merriment, it was replaced by one of genuine worry. He was so accustomed to Hera's outrageous schemes, but never had she taken it this far.

Then again, he did not know for a fact if someone else had done this to her, or if she had done this herself. He sighed, making a great effort to calm himself. He decided to behave rationally so that he may get to the bottom of this dilemma.

"I...I do not know. I found her on the steps of my palace, crying. She remained incapacitated, obviously, as I carried her up the rainbow."

There was silence, neither of them could bring themselves to say anything. Zeus shifted his weight, contemplating his course of action. He watched Hades watching Hera and thought with a twinge of regret, How long have I been blind to this? How long has Hades loved my wife?

"She is still alive," Hades admitted at last. He stood, turning to face him. "There is still a thrum of strength within her, but it is extremely faint. We must enlist the help of the others, if we are to save her." Hades' words sounded hollow, even to his own ears.

Zeus nodded in agreement. He took in Hera's drawn face, admiring her high cheekbones, full lips and the way her long eyelashes cast shadows upon the backdrop of her creamy skin. Her hair was fanned out around her head and it made a dark red halo that emphasized her skin tone.

"We must fetch Asclepius, Hygeia, Panacea and Iaso. They might be able to diagnose her and possibly provide a cure." said Zeus.

"I will return to my domain and investigate who could have done this to her." He was convincing enough on the outside, but inside, he knew exactly what had caused her condition since it had been he himself who gave her the poison. He cursed himself then, he should have never given it to her, he had not thought the ordeal would turn into such a nightmare.

Without another word, Hades resumed his icy persona, any humanity he might have exuded in his fit of concern for Hera was masked. He pivoted on his heel and with a whip of his black damask cape, he vanished.

Zeus turned back to his wife, pangs of remorse began to accost him so badly that his eyes began to sting with self loathing and disgust.

He was almost afraid to reach for her hand, as if his touch might further marr her.

He settled for sitting at her bedside, content to stare at her and contemplate their relationship. Obviously he knew he was not much of a husband. He liked the perks and privileges that came with being king of Olympus, he was born to be this way. There was so much mirth and joy to be experienced, any woman he wanted was his, any treasure or power in the kingdom that he wanted was his.

And yet-

An image of his wife, sitting on her throne of diamonds and pearls, dressed more luxuriously than any woman or goddess in existence, but upon her face was a look of sheer agony.

Another image, this time, it was after the fiasco of Heracles' birth. Hera was furious at being tricked into nursing him, and incensed that Alcmene named her son in Hera's honor. She perceived it as an insult, to have her husband's bastard named after her. As irritated as Zeus was, he could not forget how enticing she looked, her wild red hair whipping around, her eyes flashing mutinously, or the way she stalked up to him as if she owned him. At the moment, he thought he would rather like being owned by such a dominating woman.

Zeus paused over these memories. He concentrated, trying to recall other times she had dropped her facade in public.

She had called him a lying, unfaithful vagrant with all the venom and spite she could muster. He had been attempting to seduce her, she looked so beautiful, and she just renewed her virginity by bathing in the well Cananthus. Instead of welcoming him into her arms as she normally did, she slapped him across the face with the palm of her hand. Before he could comprehend what happened, she slapped him again across the other cheek. The whole of the royal court stopped and flinched to see their king so humiliated. Zeus was enraged, he thundered at her, "Be still, you impertinent cow!" She retaliated by striking him with both fists, on his torso and shoulders. He in turn grabbed her wrists and pinned them to her sides easily, holding her hard enough to bruise her. He dragged her forcibly outside of the pantheon and conjured bronze chains which he promptly fastened around her wrists.

"You will never speak to me like that again, Hera, or you'll suffer far more than this-" He threatened darkly. She glared at him and to his surprise and chagrin, she had the nerve to spit in his face. He gave a snarl worthy of a barbarian and hoisted her into the sky, where she hung by her wrists. He never forgot the expression she wore before he turned away from her. It was one of crushing hopelessness, she looked resigned and weary, like all her feistiness had left her.

She hung there for one month, weeping bitterly. None of the other gods had come to her aid, they were all afraid of his anger. Hera tugged and twisted until the chains had cut into her skin. He finally let her go when he saw how much damage she had done to herself.

In retrospect, their relationship was an enormous series of battles, heartaches, infidelities and violent quarrels.

Zeus never really understood the feelings he harbored for Hera. She was his queen, his wife, his consort. She had always remained faithful to him, she never took other lovers despite his own numerous affairs. He respected her intelligence, revered the way her beauty and intellect fit so flawlessly together. When she smiled, as rare a thing as it was, she glowed brighter than Helios' chariot as he raced across the sky. When she laughed, his breath was stolen away by some invisible force only to be restored by the touch of her lips on his skin.

He had never felt so sorry in his long, long life.

He did love her, that much he knew. He just never valued her until he was in danger of losing her.

Zeus was shocked when he felt a tear drop land on his hand that covered Hera's. He never cried.

But here he was, hoping and praying fervently that the Fates would spare her and that she would recover.

What he wouldn't give for Hera to spring up from under the bedclothes and attack him with all the fury in the universe, rather than lie there as silent and somber as the grave.


At Zeus' command, Asclepius, Hygeia, Panacea and Iaso were summoned to the queen's room.

Zeus was ordered to wait outside while they ran their respective examinations.

Asclepius was a god who had a knack for telling things as they were. He poured every antidote he invented down Hera's throat, and waited to see if any of them had an effect. Nothing worked, she remained comatose. Her color had not improved much in the past two days, they were forced to feed her nectar through a long thin straw that ran down her throat.

Hygeia, Panacea and Iaso bathed her, changed her clothing and kept her company every day, all three of them were excellent nurses. They assisted their father in his tasks, cleaning his instruments and aiding him when he checked on Hera's condition.

Hades did not return immediately, he was too ashamed. He paced restlessly in his palace, unable to eradicate the sight of Hera from his mind. He was consumed by the urge to reveal their charade to Zeus, so he could cure her of the effects of the poison, but he also knew that she would have wanted to remain sick until Zeus confessed his undying love for her.

He grew increasingly frustrated, his resolve wavered constantly. He could not decide if he should reveal her plan for the sake of her health or if he should keep quiet for the sake of her heartache.

"What good is it to poison yourself to prove a point if you won't be around to see it?" He wondered.


Meanwhile, back at Olympus, Apollo was also contemplating Hera's situation. Something did not add up. He sensed that something was amiss, being the god of truth, he paid a visit to the comatose queen. He found his father slumped over Hera, apparently sleeping.

Reaching for his father's shoulder, Apollo said, "It won't do you or her any good if you crush her body so. Up you get," Zeus sat up groggily, his features wrinkled with sleep. It was only midday, most of the world was up and about.

The chamber was ensconced in darkness, all of the velvet curtains were drawn and the smell of rose perfume was cloying to Apollo's nostrils. Hygeia had placed vases of the damned flowers on every flat surface of the room, thus accounting for the smell that permeated the room.

"Maybe if we opened some of these, Hera would not be so deathly pale." Apollo muttered as he moved to open a window. Zeus cried out negatively, "Don't! Asclepius says sunlight will disrupt the healing process."

Apollo looked back at Zeus, observing his glassy eyes, the bags beneath them and the general look of desperation in his countenance. He sighed and did as he was told.

"Father, you must not waste away yourself. It will do her no good if you are a withered old man by the time she gets better." He chastised gently.

"Nonsense, boy." Zeus scoffed despite the grumble of his stomach that followed his sentence. Apollo was slightly amused that after hundreds of years, his father still called him a 'boy.'

"Why don't you get something to eat? I will take your shift and watch over her."

Zeus hesitated and glanced from his wife to his son. He slowly stood, his legs straining after he'd been sitting so long.

"Alright, I will be right back, Apollo. If anything happens, send for me at once."

He nodded. "Of course, father."

Zeus took one more look at Hera, lying on her back underneath the sheets, and then turned to leave the bedchamber.

Apollo lowered himself onto the chair at Hera's bedside and took a moment to gaze down at his step-mother.

She did not look any better, and she was not even concious anymore. Occassionally she coughed, but other than that she did not move at all. That same feeling that something was not quite right about this was lingering in his mind.

He closed his eyes and pressed a long finger to her sweaty forehead, preparing himself to see all that had led up to her sickness.

He saw Hera, lounging in her rooms with her handmaidens. She was stroking one of her favorite pet peacocks, the one with the most beautiful plumage. He watched her as she descended into the Underworld, crossing the Styx and negotiating with Hades.

He watched as she downed poison, poison from Hades himself.

He watched her as she mounted on her downward spiral, as Hades supported her to the palace.

He watched, horrified, as Hera slowly but surely transformed from a powerful goddess into a shivering, vomiting wreck.

With a snap back into reality, the god of truth knew the reason why the queen was so deathly ill.

Now he had the same problem as Hades. Should he tell Zeus and give away the game to save her, or let things play out on their own?


TBC...

A/N: Sooo...what do we think?? R&R please!