Previously…

Zeus stood there, slowly swaying side-to-side, standing on the patio which preceded the entrance to his palace, holding a weeping boy who cried for his late mother, and soothing him, by whispering reassurances into his ear, and brushing the back of the boy's head, his messy black hair soft under Zeus' thumb.

It did not take long for Percy to fall asleep.

His soft cries of anguish, sniffles, and erratic breaths turned into slow, deep breaths, and the quiet sound of his inhales and exhales became rhythmic, a sign that he was out cold.

It was unfair, which is a word that many gods, himself included, would usually mock – but that was what it was. The boy was only 7, and yet he had most likely endured the fat man's drunken stupor most every night, as had his mother; but the fact that it was that night that Zeus had looked, whilst he held his bolt high, ready to strike, and it was a cruel twist of fate that the fat man had chosen that particular moment to kill.

It was a cruel thing to have witnessed such a gruesome murder, and it was made even worse by the boy's importance in the world of the gods.

He was most likely the prophecy child – the one who would make the decision to either save or destroy Olympus.

It was a cruel twist of fate that all of these individual moments – Zeus looking before letting his bolt fly, the fat man killing Percy's mother, Zeus intervening, and Percy simply being born – had happened and come to such a horrible fruition at such an unfortunate time.

Percy himself had no control over any of it, simply made to listen to the sounds of violence and death, and then to see the aftermath… to see his mother, face pale and devoid of life, the gruesome stab wound surrounded by deep, dark red something, Percy didn't know.

Zeus turned his attention away from the sleeping demigod and towards the large, white double doors.

With a small wave of his hand, the massive slabs swung open silently, revealing a similarly-coloured foyer, complete with two sets of stairs, shaped as though a circle had been cut in two, and its halves had been oriented parallel to each other. The stairs led up to a balcony, which had a hallway that led back to the King and Queen's sleeping quarters. On the left side of the foyer was a large open entrance which led into the living room with massive 4K flat-screen television, courtesy of Hephaestus, and a kitchen/bar combination. On the opposite side of the foyer was another large open entrance, but this led to a reading room, furnished with large, comfortable recliners and a fireplace that was always burning, as magic can do.

Underneath the balcony, there was another large open entrance, but it was only a hallway, which led outside to the large yard, kept perfectly manicured by wind spirits.

In fact, the entire palace was tended to by numerous wind spirits, invisible and unnoticeable, lest you were a god whose domains had something to do with the wind or sky, like Aeolus, or like Zeus himself. It sort of defeated the whole idea of invisible servants if Zeus could constantly see them, but Hera had requested it, and so Zeus acquiesced.

Speaking of Hera, he was reminded of the massive task ahead of him. Zeus mentally braced himself, but then an idea popped into his head.

He made his way over to the living room, his footsteps muffled by the expensive Persian rug on the floor, and carefully placed Percy on one of the more comfortable couches. Zeus placed a small-ish pillow underneath the demigod's head – it was just the right size to correctly align his neck and spine.

Zeus turned around, searching for a blanket of some sort, before his eyes settled on a heavy-looking quilt, coloured dark blue with lighter accents, swirling around the fabric like gusts of wind. Grabbing the quilt, he draped it across Percy's sleeping form.

Almost immediately, the boy pulled the blanket up to his cheek, curling up into a loose ball. The corners of Zeus' lips moved up ever so slightly.

Upstairs, he heard soft footsteps move across the ceiling. Zeus' somewhat-smile disappeared. What to do, what to do…

The footfalls above spurred him into action. He began walking towards the foyer, his pace picking up as he closed in on the stairwell. Hera's footsteps started to increase in volume.

Bounding up the stairs and using the winds to propel him upwards, Zeus tried to think of what he would say. He couldn't dance around the topic too much, because then Hera would get suspicious, and when she had a goal in mind, she was virtually unstoppable.

As he reached the summit of the stairwell, Zeus decided that his best approach was to simply get it out as soon as possible. But he had to make sure that Hera didn't go downstairs until after he had finished his explanation.

He dashed through the hallway, barely making a sound as the winds lifted him ever so slightly. He was almost to the bedroom door when the handle turned and it opened, forcing Zeus to stop abruptly and adopt a calm expression.

The door slowly swung open, and out stepped his wife, Hera, the Queen of all Gods.

And by Chaos, he needed to rethink his life decisions.

She was beautiful.

Her hair was of a similar colour to gold, flowing out from her head and tumbling down around her shoulders, ending near her waist.

Her eyes were like pools of melted chocolate, swirling around an orb of obsidian.

Her brow was sharp and angular, but framed her face perfectly, accenting her lines and making her look regal.

Her cheekbones were high and defined, like royalty (which, Zeus acquiesced, was true).

Her jaw was set and square, yet slim and rounded slightly.

In every aspect, Hera was the epitome of flawlessness.

She wore a soft golden blouse which accented her figure but did not hinder her movement.

She appeared startled by Zeus' sudden appearance, but she schooled her expression immediately. "My lord," Hera said, her voice subdued. The dislike was veiled, but certainly there. "I did not expect you here at this hour."

Zeus frowned slightly. "I… apologise for the intrusion," he said tentatively. "There is a matter of great importance about which I must speak with you."

Hera lifted a single eyebrow, but otherwise her expression remained the same. "Oh," she replied neutrally. "Is it about another one of your paramours? Perhaps you have broken the oath once again – I suppose twice with one woman was not enough!" Hera finished angrily, her voice having greatly increased in both volume and ire.

Zeus scowled. "Do not speak ill of my daughter," he began. "She sacrificed herself to save her friends, and now she guards the Greek camp's border, even if she does so as a pine tree," he continued. "And besides, I have given you my son, Jason, as recompense."

"But you never apologised," Hera replied, tears building at the edges of her eyes. She began to weep softly. "You never apologise… never, not once, have you ever said sorry. I have had to sit on my throne by your side, remaining the ever dutiful wife.

"I never complained, I never spoke out, I never contradicted you because that was my job," Hera spoke, her teeth clenched. "I was the ever-loyal queen, made a laughing stock by my king."

Zeus was about to retort when he faltered, falling silent. He began to look back through history at all the times he had been unfaithful.

There were many.

So many, in fact, that he lost count.

Why?

Why had he even begun to cheat?

Gods did not simply forget. Their brains were supposed to be perfect, infallible.

Actually, if one were to open up a god's head to see what was inside, they would see a brain, yes, but it wasn't really what made a god function.

Gods were embodiments of certain aspects of existence.

It was sometimes difficult to see, but their domains were oftentimes a reflection as to why gods acted as they did. For some gods, it did not have as much of an impact, but for others, like Zeus' brother, Poseidon, it could link to them directly.

Poseidon often said that the sea did not like to be restrained, but the sea was a reflection of Poseidon's inner thoughts and feelings. When he was angry, the sea was stormy and dangerous – and likewise, when he was happy, the sea was calm and inviting.

The sea was often differently behaved in separate places. It could be stormy in the south Atlantic, but calm in the Pacific, close to California. The Indian Ocean could simultaneously act in a manner which was different from either of those.

As such, gods were not actually physical beings. They could have physical forms, yes, but they were more metaphysical. They existed in the world, regardless of their "bodies." It meant that even if their physical forms were "killed," or rather, simply defeated, they would still have some control over their domains, so the world would not dissolve into chaos.

Because they weren't actually physical beings, they didn't actually have DNA, nor did they have "memories" like humans did. It was more like a cloud database, than physical storage.

So, the idea that Zeus could not remember why he had begun to cheat in the first place was sobering, because it meant that either he had forgotten, which was pretty much impossible – except perhaps due to outside influence, but the implications behind that were too serious to think about right then and there – or that there was no reason in the first place.

So, Zeus realised, there was never any reason for him to be unfaithful. He had just decided to do so, of his own accord.

And now, seeing Hera weep in front of him, he realised what he had done. What he had continued to do for millennia.

"Hera," Zeus began quietly. "I… am sorry," he said.

Hera looked at him, shock written clearly across her face, any ideas of maintaining her royal, uncaring facade forgotten. "W-what?" she asked, voice trembling.

Zeus sighed deeply. "I am sorry," he repeated.

There was a moment of complete silence, save for Hera's trembling breaths. Then, suddenly, she lunged at him. Expecting an attack, Zeus raised his arms to block the oncoming blow, but instead of a punch, he felt Hera wrap her arms around his torso.

Zeus embraced the unexpected show of affection by reciprocating the action, wrapping his powerful arms around her shoulders.

His thoughts were drawn back to the moment between him and Percy, who was still sleeping downstairs.

Which reminded him of his original goal in coming upstairs.

After a solid minute in which neither being did anything to break the embrace, Zeus spoke. "Hera," he began. "I must speak with you."

He felt her sniffle against his chest. She leaned back against his arms and looked up at him. "About what," she asked him. "I assume it is not about another child?"

"Well…" Zeus drawled, adopting an expression that was halfway between a smile and a grimace. "Not one of mine."

Hera frowned. "Excuse me?"

"The child is not mine."

"Then let me ask another question, husband," she said, irritated. "Why do you have a random child, a child who is not your own?"

"It's a long story," Zeus sighed. "One which you must swear to keep to yourself, lest I say otherwise."

Hera's brow raised in surprise. "Why, if you don't mind me asking?"

As if it mattered, Zeus thought ruefully. She would ask regardless of whether I minded or not. He then sighed. "Because if the story were to leak, as the mortals say, the consequences would spell war," he answered, his tone grave. Then he frowned. "And because

Hera scowled, the edges of her mouth tilting down, her lips pursing, her eyebrows furrowing together. Her nostrils flared in indignance, but at Zeus' face, which displayed complete and utter seriousness, she relented. "Fine. I swear on the River Styx to not divulge the contents of your story, lest you say otherwise. But you will tell me, husband," she spat, voice filled with venom, "or I will unleash the full might of the Queen of the Gods upon the child."

Zeus' expression turned stormy. "You will do no such thing," he seethed. "I came here for your help, not for your ire – though I am now rethinking that decision," he finished angrily.

Hera' eyes narrowed. "You wanted my help? You, who is so prideful that he has only just now apologised for millennia of adultery? You, who at the slightest push, the most insignificant barb, reacts as though you have been eternally insulted?" She scoffed. "Please, my king, do not presume me to be a fool. You did not want my help – you wanted me to do something for you, in return for nothing."

Zeus was silent.

Hera scoffed again. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

"You are wrong," he said quietly. "In exchange for your help, which it is, I would stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop humiliating you, as I now see I have done for so long." he replied.

Hera's face was utterly devoid of emotion. "Would you swear it?"

"Upon the Styx," he asked.

"No."

"Then on what?"

"By your godhood," she whispered. "Would you swear an oath to never commit an act of infidelity ever again, lest you are stripped of your status as a god and made a mortal?"

The silence was deafening. You could hear a pin drop in perfect clarity.

"Hera…" Zeus began slowly. "You would ask that I give up my immortality?"

Hera rolled her eyes. "No, I do not. It would be your godhood as well, not just your immortality. You would forfeit every link you have to the mythological world. No power, no increased strength and durability. You would be human. And I did not ask you to just give it up – I asked that you swear upon your godhood to never commit an act of infidelity. Meaning, if you ever cheat on me, ever again, as long as we are married, then you will forfeit your godhood."

Zeus was quiet for a few moments, in which Hera spoke again. "You said you would swear to stop, husband. I only ask that you reassure me of your honesty, as you have proven oaths upon the Styx to be woefully unreliable."

Zeus was tempted to comment on the fact that not a minute prior, she had sworn an oath on the Styx, but he chose not to. "I… I will," he said.

"You will what?"

"I will swear it."

"Upon…" Hera intoned.

Swallowing his pride, Zeus said, "I swear upon my godhood that, for the rest of the duration of my marriage with Hera, I will not willingly commit a single act of infidelity. If I break my oath, may my godhood be…" he faltered for a moment, "…be stripped from me, and I will become human."

Thunder boomed far away in the distance, and Zeus could feel that a storm had begun brewing off the coast of Athens, in Greece.

The oath had been made.

Hera smiled happily. "Well then, husband," she began cheerfully. "Tell me this story of yours."