Disclaimer: I do not own the Percy Jackson series, those wonderful books belongs to Rick Riordan. I am just playing with his creations and world.
I want to thank anyone who reads this and I hope that it's ok. Criticism is always welcome.
Also, I know it's been a while and all I can say is that I hope this chapter makes up for the lateness somehow….blame Hera cause she's a tough cookie to write.
Chapter Seventeen
Hera was good at hating things. One would not think that the Goddess of Marriage would be synonymous with the word hate, but for Hera, hating was easier than breathing.
She hated her father for everything he had done to her.
She hated Zeus for forcing her into a marriage he would only ever stray from.
She hated those to whom Zeus gave his affections, whether they were willing or unwilling.
She hated the children that Zeus fathered, seemingly taunting her for her flaws.
She hated liars and cheats. Even though she lied often.
(truthfully, though, she hated herself most of all)
But, when Amphitrite came to her that night, head bowed to appear subservient and began to tell her what Hestia had done, Hera didn't feel any hate.
She felt a rage that made her want to tear the tongue from the insubordinate Goddess that was prostrated before her.
The whole situation seemed blown out of proportion. Her eldest sister was finally showing interest in a mortal; there was a first time for everything. If anything, it was relatively harmless, certainly not an unforgivable act. Every God had found themselves smitten with the idea of a mortal at one point. They became obsessed with the insignificant creatures, doting upon them, adoring them until they grew bored and found something else to amuse them. Gods discarded mortals quicker than mortals discarded used toilet paper and then romanticised them for their own vanity and amusement.
Hera knew Zeus would be angry when he was informed that Hestia had broken her vow of maidenhood and that his most precious sister had decided to break one of their few laws and raise her offspring. But, it was Hestia. Ifshe had given birth to a demigod in some way or form, whether she had kept her virginity or not, it was to be expected that she would want to raise the child. Hera had heard that the first separation was always the hardest, and she truly felt for her sister.
Hera had calculated that Zeus would be furious but also forgiving. Hestia was the favoured one, their selfless eldest sister, the keeper of their hearth and home. She was the one person who loved them no matter what they did. Hestia loved her siblings and her family above all others. Unlike other Gods, Hestia loved others more than she loved herself.
Though Zeus would be mad, Hera knew forgiveness would be given quickly. Zeus loved Hestia. He loved her far more than he loved his other siblings, more than he loved his wife and his children. For Hestia, Zeus would always show forgiveness.
(Hera miscalculated)
She had gone to him the following day with Amphitrite, and Zeus had listened. Hera was used to seeing many emotions on her husband's face; anger, lust, joy and pride. Hera had rarely seen her husband jealous, but when Amphitrite spoke of Hestia's love for her daughter Zeus's features twisted into jealousy. And when he realised that the child had been presented to his other siblings and not him, his anger was palpable.
(of course, he conveniently forgot that the child hadn't been presented to Hera either. he hadn't dared to consider anything other than how he had been slighted)
Lightning danced across the sky, and thunder rumbled. Zeus did not offer to discuss anything with Hestia once informed of her indiscretion. Zeus did not summon Hestia to Olympus, nor did he offer her a moment to deny the claims brought against her. Zeus passed judgement quickly and without council. He did not summon Athena to his side or call upon any of the other Olympians in his anger. Hera knew then that Zeus loved Hestia far more than she had imagined. She had thought his love for her would outweigh his desire for retribution, that he would be content with his sister's penance. Unfortunately, her husband had never taken well to sharing the affection of those he favoured.
The lightning bolt left Zeus's hand almost too quickly, the smell of ozone filling the air, and Amphitrite's face twisted into a vicious smirk. Then the silence began. There had never been true silence on Olympus, but for a moment, the entire universe seemed to hold its breath.
(for just as it is told in every religion, there is always an end to everything, this universe just didn't expect to end so soon)
Hestia had arrived wreathed in flames, tears streaming from her eyes, hair loose. In that moment her sister looked more like a Goddess of war than a Goddess of the home. Hestia looked vicious, vengeful, and so very violent. Zeus had reached for her as if he thought he could calm Hestia and reason with her.
(as if he thought she still loved him)
The scream from her sister's mouth was not the sound a God had ever made. The sound that left her mouth was haunting and broken. It was every piece of malice, regret and grief that she held within her.
(her scream was so very human)
Hera doesn't think Hestia meant to kill Amphitrite. Hestia couldn't have known that the Goddess had helped to orchestrate her daughter's death. Amphitrite was turned to ash before she could even process what was occurring, the marble near Hestia melting. Hera hears the screams of those who have made Olympus their home as its destruction leads to chaos. She sees the thrones that they had worked so hard for, had waged war for, lied, cheated and killed for begin to burn, and Hera knows that there is nothing left of her sister there anymore.
(she wonders whether her sister tied everything she was to her daughter, for was she not the Goddess of family)
Hestia's fire begins to decimate the thrones of the Olympians, engulfing Dionysus's, the flames eating away at the grape vines wrapping around his seat of power. The thrones are connected to the God who sit upon them, tied to their very life force. Ash coats Hera's arms, and she breathes the smoke; the scent in the air reminds her of the war against Kronos. It reminds her what the stench of a dying God smells like. Slowly, the fire engulfs the other thrones, the heat that emanated from Hestia consuming them. The only thrones still left untouched belong to Poseidon, Demeter, Zeus and Hera herself.
Perhaps Hestia loves her siblings enough to not want to see them burn. Or perhaps she wants them to stay alive long enough to watch everything around them burn before the flames consume them.
Hestia stalks towards Zeus, uncaring for the lightning he throws at her, her lips curled back into a snarl and eyes alight. She expects her sister to fall when facing Zeus. Hera knows her husband's wrath and expects Hestia, like all those before her, will fall when facing the King of the Gods.
She does not.
Hera does nothing when her sister rips off her husband's head. She does nothing as Hestia stalks towards her, wreathed in fire. Instead, she reaches forward and takes Hestia's hand in her own. Hera ignores the searing pain as Hestia's fire sears into her soul. The flesh of her hand wrapped around her sister's sloughs off, ichor boiling, turning to steam, leaving behind only charred white bone. But Hera does nothing to stop this. Instead, she steps in closer, wrapping her arms around Hestia in a small attempt to comfort her. Because even in the end, they are sisters.
(they are family)
Hera has never understood the all-consuming love for their children that some mothers have. However, she recognises that it is the only thing left that Hestia still cares for, the thing that she is clinging to, fuelling her rage. Hera feels nothing but pride for her sisters' strength and power. They could have dispatched their father, overthrown Zeus and still had time for a family dinner all in one day if Hestia had been genuinely motivated.
(Hera was always going to watch the world burn. she just didn't expect Hestia to be the one to burn it)
Perhaps, Hera muses, there was a certain poetry to it all. The eldest daughter, the firstborn child, the very first God to ever be birthed into existence from the coupling of Rhea and Kronos, would be the one to overthrow the King. To bring about the end of all Ages. The sibling that had championed peace, instigating Armageddon. It was like a story where the hero came to overthrow the tyrant.
(the flames around Hestia's head could have been a crown)
Hera had always expected that it would take another war to overthrow Olympus. She had expected it would be their children arriving at the base of their thrones, weapons drawn and ready to destroy them, ushering in a new Age. She did not expect her eldest sister to decimate everything they had built in a mere few hours.
They say she had told Poseidon she would raise Tartarus once if harm came to her human.
(and Hestia is nothing if not truthful)
The world splits in two when Hestia screams and horrors pour from beneath the earth. Hestia calls forth Tartarus and begins to lay waste to the entire universe.
The other Pantheons crumble, and the mortals perish. The heroes do not even know the name of the foe that has ended everything they cherish and love. Hestia is not looking to fight a war and win; she only creates carnage and destruction. None will recover from this.
(this is their end)
Hera sees all of this in the moments between Amphitrite whispering her words filled with half-truths and lies. She sees things that cause a cold sweat to break out on the back of her neck and her throat to close up, her breaths coming out short. Because it is a small unknown fact that though Apollo may be the God of prophecies, sometimes, other Gods can have flashes of the future. These small snippets leave them slightly more broken and empty inside, but allow for them to glimpse what could be. Hera has had only one before this, the day she tried to deny Zeus, for she knew the shame and pain binding herself to him in marriage would bring her.
(she had seen the monster she was to become in a marriage to Zeus)
So, when Amphitrite looks up to her after finishing her tale, Hera feels nothing but utter loathing and hate. Because even though she can understand wanting to ruin the object of her husband's affection, she cannot condone this Goddess hurting her Hestia. Because Hestia truly loves this mortal. And she knows Zeus, in some twisted way, will deem Hestia has broken her vow and 'deserves' to be disciplined. But, when he kills the mortal to make an example, Hestia will break, and the universe will break with her. And Hera hates many things, but she loves her sisters. She loves her sisters with an all-consuming love that cannot be put into words.
So Hera does something she hates.
She lies.
(for Hera is nothing if not a hypocrite)
The minute Faye walked downstairs that morning, she knew something was wrong. Even sleep addled the scent of batter burning cut through the air. Usually, the smell of burnt food alone wouldn't discourage her. Burnt food meant the loud voice of Artemis attempting a random recipe or the comforting dulcet tones of Persephone as she tried to teach Hades how to cook a new dish.
Burnt food did not mean silence.
She moved forward slowly, her hand raising unconsciously to rest on her shoulder where the bird had once pierced it. Her fingers rubbed against the small starburst star that had never disappeared.
Years ago, when Athena had sent the message that she would be attending for tea, Hestia had seemed worried, scared for what the future could hold. But, ultimately, she had seemed prepared.
When Faye saw Hestia, she realised that whatever had occurred was far worse than Athena's visit because Hestia wasn't worried. She was terrified.
Entering the room, she couldn't see who the God was that was sitting at the small dining table. All she could see was the piles of black curls that ran down her back and the sharp air with which they held themselves. A stark contrast to Hestia, her eyes blown wide, lips parted and hands gripping white-knuckled onto a spatula with both hands.
"Please," Hestia whispered, her voice so broken and fearful, her single word taking the air out of Faye's lungs, leaving her winded quicker than a punch ever could.
Faye already hated whichever God had chosen to walk into their home and ruin their morning. The divine had no decency when it came to manners.
"Don't speak," the other God began. For a moment, Faye had to double-check that Hestia wasn't opening her mouth because the voice of this new God was so similar to Hestia's, except that it lacked warmth. It was colder and calculative. "I need you to not speak until I've finished."
"Someone came to me and told me you had broken many laws, Hestia. That you had broken vows of maidenhood and ignored the oaths taken to not raise demigod children. I heard you were playing house, Hestia. But I know my sister would never be so reckless or stupid. I know that you're smarter than that. So, tell me, Hestia. What are you doing here? "
Faye was sure that the Goddess sitting in their kitchen was Hera. She wondered if she could be silent enough to go back up the stairs and call for Rhea, Demeter or Poseidon, for someone who might appeal to the Queen of the Gods. She momentarily wondered if Athena would come if she asked, if she would stand against Hera for Hestia, for her.
"I've broken no laws and not strayed from my oaths."
"I didn't ask about that, Hestia. I asked what you were doing here." Hera said, cutting through Hestia's explanation.
And that was enough for Faye. The tremble of Hestia's voice, the white knuckle grip she kept on her spatula and the way she held herself as if she was preparing for a fight Hestia knew she couldn't win. Faye wouldn't let anyone make Hestia feel unsafe or belittled. If Hera thought she could come into their home unannounced and bully Hestia, she wasn't as bright as Faye had assumed.
"She lives here with me. And clearly, you were never taught manners if that's how you speak to your sister. You must be Hera," Faye said, walking into the room, uncaring of the sudden stares she received from both women.
Walking over to Hestia, she uncurled the woman's hands from the spatula she gripped tightly, squeezing her hands reassuringly as she did so before stepping into the kitchen area. Hestia had been making waffles, waffles with strawberries. Thankfully, Hestia must have only begun cooking, so there was plenty of batter left. Faye quickly removed the burnt batter from the waffle maker, cleaning the ruined food off the hotplate into the bin.
"I'm Faye. Hestia's ward. She's not my mother. She's my guardian, and I'm not a half-blood. I haven't got a drop of Godly blood running through my veins. I'm just a mortal who can see through the Mist. Hestia hasn't broken the law. She's kept to her Oath." Faye continued talking as she worked, looking up to meet Hera's piercing gaze. If Hera was going to blast her into a million pieces for stating facts, Faye would rather get it over with than have Hestia turned into a nervous wreck. No use delaying the inevitable.
"So you really decided to disappear and play house?"
Faye snorted at Hera's words because as utterly repulsed as she seemed to be at the idea of 'playing house', she wasn't exactly wrong. They had been playing house, playing at being a family, and Faye had known it would eventually have to stop or something would have to break. She was getting older, and Hestia had duties. They were bound to be found out; it was practically the worst kept secret from what she could tell, with two of the 'Big Three' in the know and now nearly every single one of Hestia's siblings.
"It's as Faye said; I've broken no laws," Hestia stated, looking up to meet Hera's gaze as if she genuinely believed her words would save them.
"He won't see it that way."
Suddenly, Faye realised that this wasn't Hera coming to taunt Hestia or lord something over her for blackmail. This was a warning. The way Hera looked at Hestia was a look that Faye knew because she had given it to those she loved before. It was a look that said she knew they were doing exceptionally foolish things that would cause them nothing but pain and didn't know how to fix the situation they had found themselves in.
"He's my brother. We're family." Hestia said firmly as if she was trying to reassure herself. "He wouldn't hurt me."
Hera moved closer to Hestia, her hand reaching for her before aborting the movement, reaching up to touch her hair. Her words came out uncaring, blunt and cold, but her mannerisms were entirely contrasting. "Of course, he wouldn't, but her. He would smite her in an instant out of jealousy."
"Hera-" Hestia began, her eyes filled with a sadness that Faye hadn't seen before. She reached out for Hera, only for the other Goddess to grab her hand, squeezing it tightly in her own.
"I'm your sister Hestia. Never forget that."
Somehow, Hera's words seemed less like a reminder and more like a promise. There was an underlying meaning in her words that was lost on Faye. The longer the two goddesses stared at each other, the tighter Hera seemed to grip Hestia's hand, her nails digging into the delicate skin, and when Faye saw little gold pinpricks of blood appear on Hera's perfectly manicured nails, she realised that she didn't care if it was out of love or not. Still, she would rather fight a god than stand by and watch Hestia be hurt.
"It doesn't seem very sisterly to come into someone's home and scare them half to death. Are you staying for breakfast? Any dietary requirements?" Faye cut in, not caring for the way Hestia turned to glare at her pointedly for drawing attention to herself. Faye only cared for the way Hera's eyes seemed to become more focused. Hera pulled her hand from Hestia's, digging her nails into her palm as if she could hide the evidence of the damage she had caused.
"I'll have two pancakes and add blueberries," Hera responded, finally deeming to look at her.
She inspected Faye like a mother would their child's pet bug; in a way, she was Hera's sister's pet mortal, so it wasn't an incorrect analogy. With a grace that Faye envied, she sat at the dining table, relaxing into the chair, arms crossed, as if she owned the place.
Faye wanted to throw the waffle maker at the Queen of the Gods' head. What did Hera think this was? A five-star buffet restaurant. Hestia had been making waffles with strawberries, so Hera would get waffles with strawberries and be grateful she was even offered breakfast.
"I'm making waffles, and you can have strawberries," Faye replied, not breaking eye contact with Hera as she poured the batter into the waffle maker.
Hera leaned forward, elbows uncrossing as she placed them on the table, her head resting in her hands. The smirk she gave Faye made her want to spit in the waffle she was making before putting it in front of Hera. She wondered if she would eat it if she did.
"Milk and two sugars in my coffee."
"There's fresh orange juice on the table. Pour yourself a glass."
"Are you sure she's not yours? I can see the family resemblance." Hera asked, leaning back in the chair once more.
Faye was sorely tempted to inform Hera she needed to work on her glares and smirks. They were nowhere near as terrifying as Hecate's or Athena's and certainly didn't instil her with remorse like Hestia's 'I'm not angry, I'm disappointed face' did.
"100% pure mortal."
Fay smiled as she dusted the waffles with a thin coat of powdered sugar. She sounded like a TV advertisement. The waffles she had made certainly looked good enough for a God. Sure, they weren't pancakes with blueberries, but Hera would soon see that waffles were the superior breakfast choice, only beaten by French toast and croffles. Walking towards Hera, she placed the waffle with strawberries in front of her and a syrup bottle on the table before returning to get a plate for Hestia and herself.
"Let's hope that's the case," Hera stated, eyeing the waffle in distaste.
Faye opened her mouth to respond, only for Hestia to cut her off before any sound had left her mouth. "Faye Edwards, for once in your life, be quiet!" Hestia admonished, her voice cutting through Faye like a knife.
Climbing onto her chair, Faye cut into one of her waffles, shoving the piece into her mouth, uncaring of powdered sugar she knew now covered the tip of her nose. The sweet flavours filled her mouth, and she ate, ignoring how her throat became lumpy and how every single bite she swallowed burned. Obviously, she'd made this waffle too crunchy.
The look Hera gave her was of such pure disgust Faye was tempted to knock the orange juice into her lap and ruin her perfectly spotless white pants. Hestia must have sensed her intentions, moving the jug of orange out of her reach.
"I didn't mean to scare you. Truly Hestia. I'm not the threat."
Faye reached out for the syrup bottle, hardly caring how she teetered on her chair, only being saved from falling by Hestia's hand steadying her. The syrup bottle was suddenly held before her eyes, Hera holding it precariously between two fingers. Faye took it, sitting back down, eyes wide. Hera didn't even glance her way, instead pouring a glass of orange juice and sliding it towards her before she could even ask if she could pass the juice.
"Then why are you here? What do you get from coming here? What do you want?"
"I'm here because a rat came crawling to me last night spewing tales about you. They used words that, when put together in a sentence, would get that adorable little mortal of yours killed before she could open her mouth to argue it."
And wasn't that interesting? Someone had gone and snitched, and if there was one thing that Faye knew, it was that snitches got stitches. If the look that Hestia was giving Hera, whoever had been stirring up drama would need more than a few stitches. Faye knew she should have been disgusted at the thought that Hestia might hurt someone for her, but instead, she only found that she was weirdly content with the knowledge.
"I'm not here as a threat, Hestia. I'm here as a warning. But, I can become a threat."
"A threat to me?"
Delicately cutting into her waffle, Hera began to eat, swallowing her mouthful before dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
"A threat for you," Hera replied, piercing a strawberry rather violently before biting it in half.
"You're my sister. My favourite sister. Let me help you."
Hera was just as dramatic as the rest of her family. Enunciating each of her words with a wave of her fork, uncaring to the other half of her strawberry still attached to the end. Faye raised her eyebrow at Hera surreptitiously, praying the strawberry didn't suddenly fly off the fork and hit someone. It would undoubtedly be her luck for Hera to knock her out with a strawberry or at least choke her with it if the looks Hera had given her all through breakfast were anything to go by.
"What do you want?" Hestia asked, stroking Faye's hair out of her face. A few locks of long brown hair had escaped the braid Hestia had meticulously braided the night before, now dangling dangerously close to the waffle Faye was attempting to shovel into her mouth.
"Nothing."
Faye nearly choked on her waffle at Hera's words because, after all of her interactions with Gods, she knew that nothing was free. "Nothing now or nothing yet."
"...Yet. She's a smart one, isn't she?"
"She is."
"She really isn't. I just know that Gods only get involved if they get something in return. So what could you possibly want?" Faye questioned, leaning further over the table to get more orange juice.
"Sit down and eat your waffles, Faye." Hestia reprimanded, pulling her back by her sleep shirt into a seated position, ensuring that Faye was seated properly and not at any risk of falling off her chair or leaping across the table at Hera before she let go.
"I'm sorry, Hera, but you and I both know that your schemes are not something I don't want to be involved in. It's not safe."
"It's not like any of your other options are safer.
Faye watched the two of them snap answers back at each other faster than a volleyball match. Honestly, Faye probably would have spoken up if she wasn't desperate to wash part of her waffle down with more orange juice. She was practically dying since she couldn't reach the jug to refill her glass.
"You know my answer, Hera."
"I love you, Hestia. You're my sister. My family."
"I know you think that."
And with those words from Hestia, Hera seemed to deflate, placing her knife and fork down. Only then did Faye realise that Hera had finished the waffle, and she felt a sense of pride that the Queen of the Gods had eaten her food. Hera's plate was clean, which Faye was going to take as a compliment. Unlike Artemis, Faye was confident that Hera wouldn't eat the food Faye cooked if it tasted disgusting. However, it might have also been some sort of mental midgame. Either way, Faye was calling it a win.
"Thank you for the meal. You need to teach your brat better manners." Hera began as she stood, momentarily locking eyes with Faye and smirking before reaching over and once again pouring Faye another glass of juice, watching as she gulped down the drink, uncaring of how messy she might have looked before muttering out a quick 'thanks'. "Though at least hers are better than Ares and Hephaestus's were at her age. Don't even get me started on Persephone."
"Thank you?"
"Next Friday. Dinner. I'll message Mother."
"Hera-"
"And you can bring the brat."
Hera laughed softly as both Faye and Hestia made a noise that probably sounded akin to a Pterodactyl simultaneously. Though Faye had made her sound out of annoyance at being called a brat, she was pretty sure Hestia was making it due to the sheer audacity of her sister. Standing, Hera walked over, pausing momentarily to bend down and kiss Hestia's forehead before disappearing out the door.
"I think that went well," Faye said, popping the last strawberry into her mouth.
It might not have been the right time, but if Hera was anything like the rest of her immediate family, Faye was sure that dinner would be a blast. Or at least end in something being blasted. Probably her.
"Faye."
Turning towards Hestia, Faye realised how much of a mess she must have looked. Chipmunked cheeks, hair still not brushed from bed, crumbs and syrup covering the pyjamas that Morpheus had brought her last month. Morpheus needed to start a pyjama business because she never slept better than when she wore them. They were probably infused with divine sleep magic, and Faye certainly wasn't going to complain about getting a set for free.
"Yes?" Faye said around the mouthful of waffle in her mouth, relishing the crunchiness.
"Go to your room," Hestia said tiredly.
Shovelling the last piece of her waffle into her mouth, Faye grabbed her glass of juice off the table and ran to her room, a grin plastered on her face. Because as annoyed and tired as Hestia sounded, she genuinely smiled when she told Faye to go to her room. And Faye finally realised that she wouldn't mind burning the world and herself if it meant the woman raising her, practically her mother in all but blood, smiled.
Dear Faye,
'You must forgive me, for I struggled only for you.'
-Athena
Thank you for your reviews! You guys are amazing!I still can't believe people are reading this.
I'm beyond sorry I am for the wait, life has been so hectic over the last year or so and this story was put on pause.
I feel I should warn anyone still reading this that I'm going to start moving my stuff over to AO3 since the formatting is easier to use (some of it was already there, but I'm going to do a bit of editing...looking back at my grammatical and spelling errors hurt my soul). I'm under the same name so if you want to check out the edited version the doesn't make my soul cry over the grammatical/spelling errors I made when I started I'm probably going to start 'reuploading' some time today/tomorrow. But if you want to continue reading it on here I'll still update on here as well – it just might not flow as easily.
Again, thank you to anyone who Followed, Favourited and/or Reviewed this story, you guys are what made me want to continue writing this. I hope everyone has an awesome week!