Zeus is not surprised by that stormy visit.
Heracles is sweaty, panting and his yellow eyes are wide, still impressed by Freya's power.
The God is seated at his rough wooden table, which he assembled with his own hands. He calls himself by the fictitious name of Jupiter Cranel, and is virtually unrecognizable by the other Humans and Demi-Humans who populate Mount Olympus in small villages.
In the people's eyes, he is an honest farmer and carpenter, with his hair and beard discolored by time and the hardships of life.
"Your eyes betray anguish..." he says simply, taking a sip of the wine produced by himself.
"It is so. You see, Freya..."
Hearing the name of his enemy, Zeus stands up, his ice-colored eyes shining in the penumbra of the hut. He grabs the now empty glass and places it in the sink.
"What about that woman?"
"She kidnapped a boy, I saw him!"
Zeus's gaze darts angrily.
"A child?"
"Yes, a newborn baby to be precise. She claims that he is her son!"
"Gods can't have natural children, that woman is lying."
"That's what I think too, Father!"
Zeus becomes pensive. He knows the legend of Fate, the one who governs everything but who can also fulfill wishes, but he also knows that Freya is an excellent manipulator and that there is a high probability that she kidnapped a child on a whim.
He therefore decides to send Heracles in the presence of Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, who reside on the top of Mount Olympus, in a dilapidated and desolate ash-colored wooden house.
The three Goddesses constitute the Trio of Life and Death, or rather the Moirai, the first to have come out of the eggs laid by Fate. It can be said that they are the deities with the powers most similar to the higher entity.
Clotho, the Birth, is a Goddess with the appearance of a child, with snow-white skin, thick blond curls gathered in two bushy pigtails and big black eyes.
Lachesis, the Growth, has the appearance of an adult woman, with tanned skin, long brown hair and smooth and penetrating hazel eyes.
Finally, Atropos, the Departure, is a Goddess with the appearance of an old woman, with a black and wrinkled skin, short light gray hair and white eyes.
"What brings you here, mortal?" Clotho asks him, as soon as Heracles sets foot in the hut, with her little girl's voice that clashes enormously with her divine purpose.
"Which spool do you need?" echoes Lachesis.
"If you want me to cut the thread, you will have to give me exhaustive explanations..." concludes Atropos, with her feeble voice.
Heracles shows a first sign of bewilderment in front of the three powerful deities, but he immediately recovers and begins to tell.
"Freya kidnapped a white-haired and red-eyed boy. I don't know why she did it, but that Goddess brought trouble and ruins wherever she went. I would like to bring that creature to safety, it is Zeus who commands me."
"Are you sure it was a kidnapping?" Clotho jokes, turning around him.
"The ways of Fate are infinite..."
"Who are you to judge?"
"I leave the judgment to you, mighty Goddesses!" Heracles stands out, putting himself in genuflection, with the lion tail lashing the dusty floor.
"Mh... What do you say, sisters?" Clotho asks, like an undecided little girl who is asking her parents for permission to do something.
The Moirai were all born from the same divine egg.
"I say that child's spool is as white as cotton and as pure as linen..." Lachesis whispers, stroking the roll of fabric that has the same pleasant tint as Bell's hair. Each creature, mortal or immortal, produces a line of energy that is collected by the Moirai in fuses quite similar to the fabrics ones, both in consistency and appearance.
The difference between the various energy strings lies in the fact that those belonging to the immortals cannot be cut; if a divinity is forced to leave the Lower World to return to Heaven, the thread simply starts to shine again, as it did before the Gods descended among the mortals. The threads belonging to mortals do not produce light.
"What the Supreme says is true: Bell, Freya's love, will grow in health and charm, and will be able to bring down the defenses of many."
Lachesis has put on a mischievous smile while foretelling the future power of that boy.
Atropos is silent, she is not allowed to reveal how Bell's death will take place, who, although born from divinity, is not considered as such, since for his conception both Freya and Hermes had to renounce to their immortality, even if the last one doesn't know.
Then Clotho speaks, smirking, this time like a little girl who has made a prank.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Heracles son of Amphitryon, but Freya tells the truth: Bell is her legitimate son."
"W-what?"
"Do you still want to take him away from her? You want to make her pay for crashing Zeus down into the ruins?"
At that point, Heracles no longer even cares that Freya has told the truth: he hates her, he cannot allow her to raise a child who would grow up according to her sick principles.
At that point, Lachesis burst out laughing; it is a laughter that freezes the blood, it is the laughter of those who know exactly how the future will go.
"Freya or not, Bell will have a charm that won't be equated by her mother, nor by Ishtar, or by Aphrodite: it won't be a magical power, but will permeate his every action, every gesture and word. It will fascinate women of all races, classes and ages, it will arouse envy and jealousy in some men, while others will become his allies. His deeds will bring disturbance in the hearts and shouts of jubilation, people will exalt him and debate for his company as lions vie for gazelles. He will bring havoc and will be a flag of war between Familiae!"
Heracles, although a renowned man of courage, backs away from that kind of fever dream.
"If you want to tear the child from Freya's breast, go ahead, son of Amphitryon, but remember: Zeus will only be able to bring him up to the age of fourteen. A week after that fateful date, Zeus will have to leave him alone, so that his mother can find him. Obviously, the child must never know about your master's identity. For him, Zeus will only be Jupiter Cranel."
"Now go, hero of the Zeus Familia..."
Heracles eagerly runs away from the falling hut, leaving only silence and the slight creaking of the chipped door in the background.
The three Goddesses are left alone.
"Atropos, a sacrifice is required for this operation..."
"A child snatched from his mother is worth a lost love, my dear sisters..."
Smiling sinisterly, Atropos pulls a spool from her drawer full of energy threads. The spool is opaque, dark brown in color.
With a decisive snip of her scissors, the Goddess cuts it off, uncovering her teeth in a sadistic smile.
A few days later, in early June, Heracles, in the company of his beloved Megara, a former member of the Hera Familia, heads to the abandoned farmhouse, hoping to find Freya with the child.
Megara, a young Human with an attractive appearance, is a fighter of rare agility, with an amber complexion and long umber-colored hair, gathered in an elaborate bun. Her chocolate-colored eyes are embellished with long dark lashes.
The two lovers will marry soon, a symbol of the love that has always united Zeus and Hera, and of the strong bond that for this reason has always existed between the two Familiae.
Freya is in the run-down farmhouse and is breastfeeding the baby.
When she sees the two enemies, she immediately understands that it will be a challenge to the death, so she places the newborn in his cradle and without saying a word she goes to Heracles, who tries to deliver a blow to her with his arm outstretched, but is stopped by the Goddess herself, covered from head to toe in an old, black and bristly dressing gown.
"I see you like strong manners..." she says in his ear, halfway closing her pink lips and metallic eyes, "... Okay... I'll appease you!"
Heracles reacts and throws the Goddess far away, but she lands safely on her low and slightly worn shoes.
At that point Megara pounces on her and engages a melee with Freya, who elegantly dodges the blows while giggling.
Meanwhile, Bell flaps his arms and legs in his cradle, and lamely complains about the surrounding bustle.
"You're good…"
Megara has managed to hit her on the chin.
Freya is impressed by it, but it is at that moment that she puts her diabolical plan into action.
"... I bet your love for Heracles is one of the engines of your existence... I understand you, you know? For me too, the love I feel for Bell is important... Indeed, it is the only thing that matters."
There is something strange in her tone, especially towards the end of the sentence... Disdain for life, resignation? Maternal ferocity?
A moment of distraction.
Freya who grabs Megara by the collar of her white shirt and throws her to the ground.
The severed breath of the girl who hits the ground.
Heracles who charges her and tumbles her against the table and the two bare-bones chairs.
Freya who gets up and activates her Charm by licking her lips.
Again that weakness of the soul and the flesh... Heracles again feeling his knees in contact with the floor.
The view that fogs up... Freya who no longer pays attention to him, like an empty jar abandoned in the middle of the street.
And then... Through the pitiful short-sightedness that obscures his pupils Heracles can see Megara tormented by Freya, who exercises a massive dose of Charm on her, and the poor girl who screams as if possessed, asking her to stop and let her free.
"But how I do this effect to you? I thought your love for Heracles was authentic..."
Even the words come stifled to Heracles, but they are still horrible.
Other inhuman cries, other suffering.
"KILL ME!"
Megara's mind is sliding into oblivion, but Freya doesn't want to please her.
Heracles thinks it's the end. But, he has time to hear the roar of the door that falls to the ground, the former members of the Zeus and Hera Familiae enter running in the farmhouse and face Freya, the stench of smoke spreading in the air and four solid arms that lift him off the dusty floor, before indulging in a deep and dreamless sleep.