"By the virtue of authority vested in me by the Christ," Hera declared, her smile as immaculate as ever, even as she said those sickening, revolting words. "I now pronounce you husband and wife." She turned to the groom. "You may kiss your bride." And the overjoyed man swooped his wife into an gentle embrace, leaning in to give a kiss that spoke volumes of his love and affection. His brown eyes glistened, reflecting the teary eyes of his love. Cheers erupted throughout the church, the mortals on their feet in celebration, jubilant smiles on all of their lips. It was as though even they could see how sacred and strong the bond between the bride and groom was. It was a perfect union, one filled with such love that only Death could part them.
Hera looked on at the couple, walking sideways to grant them the stage as they continued to kiss each other amidst smiles and tears. Her smile, for a moment, just for a moment, turned genuine, but it strained again as the Christian chorus started playing when the couple finally separated and began walking down the aisle towards their family.
Her heart stung again; no matter how many times she did it, no matter how much she got used to it, it always stung.
She, a pagan Goddess, officiating a wedding in the middle of a church, in the most Christian city of America.
What an irony.
Hera could have willed the wedding to follow the long-forgotten traditions she had devised in the past, could have made it so that the mortals here forgot all about their wretched God and became her believers, could have removed her cover and revealed her true form in all of her glory—all with naught but a thought. But she didn't do any of that, not only because she would be breaking numerous ancient laws but also because this was a reminder. A reminder of how much Olympus had fallen, hiding like wounded rats beneath the mist.
Hera kept her head high, the nailed statue of the damned messiah looming behind her, but she didn't let herself be bothered by it, rather focusing on the bride and groom. For all of the hatred and fear, their bond soothed her heart. It was a bond that was nearly unbreakable, a sign that the Fates had favoured them upon a union of bliss and sorrow, joy and heartbreak, of life and death.
A true bond.
A sickening feeling took hold of her heart, a feeling she so hated, but her heart betrayed her yet again, reaching out. Hera blessed them, strengthening their bond. May even Death be unable to separate them. She closed her eyes for a stabilising moment, and opened them, her strained smile turned immaculate again. Then she walked towards the exit of the church, her steps even and regal.
"Please," the father of the bride invited her immediately, noticing her as everyone began to leave the church for the wedding dinner. "Join us."
Hera accepted the invitation without a second thought, while wondering what this mortal would do if he found out that the one who officiated his daughter's wedding wasn't a priest, white and traditional as they come, but a Pagan Goddess. It would be a sight. And her smile widened, walking out of the cathedral without looking back.
The nailed statue of Christ hung above, his pained yet forgiving eyes looking down on all below.
———————
A figure caught her attention mid-speech. She was giving a few words of wisdom to the married couple, though they rang hollow. She was beginning to wonder why she had even accepted the invitation, and was already considering teleporting back to Olympus, but just then she noticed the figure amidst the crowds, listening to her raptly, just like the rest, but unlike them, he saw her, his electric blue eyes fixed on her as he took sips of wine leisurely while making himself comfortable in a seat in the centre of the huge tent.
Hera almost stumbled in her speech in shock. It took a great amount of effort to continue her toast and keep her eyes away from that figure, but she still gravitated back to him subconsciously, making sure that was really who she thought he was. Her disbelief was to that extent because the figure was none other than Zeus, but he had changed himself to the point Hera almost didn't recognise him on the spot.
Zeus sat cross-legged in his seat, watching her with a infuriating smile. His cheeks no longer boasted that huge beard; they were now clean and neatly shaved, and his shoulder-length hair had been trimmed in a fashionable way. He looked much younger too, as if he were just entering his twenties. Other than these changes in appearance, he didn't seem all that different in other aspects. He still exuded an undeniable air of authority, his electric blue eyes brimming with power and might as always. He was attired in accordance with the changing times, keeping up with the trends, donning a navy blue trench coat and trousers.
But the changes to his appearance were too glaring, too unexpected, too immense—they shook her heart. Despite spending many millennia with her husband, she had never seen him like this, so young and filled with vitality.
Zeus had always adhered to a certain standard with his true appearance, even when he felt like he needed some tweaks. That bearded and seasoned look, one that exuded the might he wielded, one that suited a king. The old custom, asserting that beards were the ultimate sign of virility and maturity, came into existence because of Zeus. He had always maintained that look, from the time he rescued her and their siblings from Kronos until now. It was the one he had preferred, the look he felt comfortable with, which defined him for what he was.
Hera struggled to maintain her composure, still reeling from the waves of surrealness and disorientation. It was too much, after all, but she refused to let herself to fall, ploughing through the waves of her heart. Pull yourself together, she thought, just look at that smile on his face. He expects you to break. This must just another one of his tricks to sweep me off my feet, distract from his latest and newest infidelity, she convinced herself, yes, that must be it! That's the whole damn explanation!
With that certainty, Hera tried to calm herself down. It should have been easy now, pushing aside her shock and complete her speech immaculately, but her heart betrayed her, thumping like hooves of war horses.
The truth was as stark as ever: there were some lines that even Zeus wouldn't cross.
"Forgive me," Hera composed herself, placing her free hand over her face, covering her nose and mouth in an abashed display of emotions while her other hand raised the glass of nectar to the bride and groom. "I just never get used to it, no matter how many times I have been blessed to unite couples." Her words unexpectedly and bitterly rang true to herself, "James and Martha, may your marriage be filled with unforgettable moments and unexpected joys!"
James and Martha stood together, hip-to-hip, smiling emotionally as they whispered a thank you to Hera. She concluded her speech and settled back in her seat, her hands clenched. She refused to look at Zeus, refused to let herself be swept off her feet again. She was afraid to catch his smile widening in victory, confirming that this was just another one of his tricks.
Hera sat there, sipping the nectar and engaging in small talk with the people around, mostly on topics of Christianity and how blessed the couple were by the God. Every revolting word seemed to tick her off more, especially now with him in the audience. But she went through it all, regaining her composure, for that was the better option. Whatever Zeus was planning, she wasn't going to him. Let him come to her. She had enough.
The dinner carried on. The speeches slowly melted away in the smooth tunes of 'Begin the Beguine.' The married couple took to the floor followed by many other couples, all swaying to dance to the song of Apollo's son.
The song was beautiful; Hera found herself humming the tunes under her breath, her glass almost empty of nectar. The table she sat at had become unusually empty, but she paid it no mind. Her focus was fixed on the married couple, observing them with melancholy and happiness.
She didn't even turn when Zeus took a seat right next to her, turning the chair to face her. Hera continued to ignore him, and Zeus spoke up, his voice rich and vibrant, so much like yet unlike him. "Hera."
Finally, Hera turned to face Zeus directly, and she was struck by the sight once again. The tiny details she had missed in her initial shock now stood out glaringly, impossible to ignore. They all came together to form a handsome visage that almost took her breath away. She still couldn't believe this was really Zeus, not some foolish and suicidal imposter, but her senses and instincts told her the truth as soon as their eyes met; this was indeed her husband, the one she both loved and hated.
"Zeus," Hera greeted evenly, her mask as immaculate as ever. She appeared as nonchalant as possible, as though she didn't even notice the changes in Zeus, as if it was the most normal, given thing.
Zeus' brows furrowed for a moment, then smoothed out in understanding. His expression turned nonchalant too, mirroring hers, infuriating playing along. He looked around at the mortals gathered for the wedding. "Did you know many of these mortals here are part of the KKK?"
"So?" Hera avoided meeting his eyes, maintaining her nonchalance. It wasn't entirely fake this time, for she had already grown accustomed to all of humanity and their ridiculous patterns that seemed to never change.
"Nothing." Zeus shook his head, his words just an observation, a momentary remark. He sipped on his wine, his eyes scanning the crowd with slight distaste.
The silence stretched thin between them, and her tension and impatience grew with each passing moment. She completely expected him to continue playing the game of nonchalance with her to the point where she probably wouldn't be able to bear it. However, when he caught her discreet gaze, he sighed in weariness and defeat, setting his cup down. "So nothing to add?"
Hera's brows shot up, a sardonic smirk playing at her lips. "Oh, what's there to say?" She leaned in, secretly revelling in the knowledge that her words were getting under his skin, at the fact she was not the only one vulnerable here. "Mortals and their endless loops, it's a never-ending show. They never truly change, just layer on thicker excuses for their antics, and it gets more absurd by the century—"
"Hera," Zeus cut in, his voice curt yet authoritative. But Hera could all but feel the anger brewing within his calm façade, and her smirk widened into a smile of victory. "That's not what I meant. You know that." He frowned at her, particularly focusing on her smile with concern, actual and true concern. Then he probed, almost cautiously. "Does my new appearance bother you that—"
And Hera snapped in disbelief, her emotions rushing out before she could hold them back. "Of course, I am bothered!" She shouted, and the music stopped, leaving haunting silence, and mortals froze in their places, their smiles hanging in stillness. "How could I not be? My damnable husband goes and changes his true form to an almost unrecognizable extent. You know, I, your wife, didn't realize it was actually you immediately, and as if this wasn't enough, you go on and act like you actually care." She pointed at Zeus accusingly, who looked on with a stony face. "For all I know, this may just be another one of your tricks to cover up your latest infidelity. Which mortal is it this time?" She leaned in, feeling the terrifying storm before her, yet she carried on vehemently. "Don't you ever get sick of their weak and broken cunts, Zeus?"
There was no regret in Hera's heart as the words left her mouth. Everything felt just too much, she couldn't hold back any longer even if she understood the terrifying storm before her was going to blast her with his bolt into Gaea's embrace. That was what she was expecting, that was what her Zeus would have done.
However, this Zeus didn't explode and blast her into the earth's core; instead, his lips thinned in sadness, the storm within him waning away in silence. "Oh Hera," he said, his voice as soft as possible, almost pitying. "This isn't about you."
Hera's heart began to pound, but not of anger or indignation, but of fear, raw fear. "Then why?" She breathed out. "Why are you doing this? Why did you change yourself to,"—she looked at his new appearance up and down—"to THIS!?"
Zeus looked her in the eyes, holding her gaze in certainty, sincerity. "Sometimes change just happens. There is no profound reason behind it, or maybe there is, I don't exactly know myself." He chuckled wryly. "But it is what it is. You either embrace the change or be left behind in pieces." He looked up at the sky, in the direction of Olympus. "And I think Olympus could use some change as well. What better way for that to begin than with me." He smiled, turning back to her. "So that's it. Here I am."
Hera gaped at Zeus, her expression as disbelieving as it could be. She said nothing in response to his words. In fact, she couldn't even if she wanted to try. She just summoned more nectar into her glass and began to gulp it down with terrified intensity, struggling to digest the surreal words that had left her husband's mouth.
Zeus looked frustrated at her lack of response, probably more affected by her volatile reaction, but there was not much surprise there, only weary resignation as his hands swept through his short hair, his eyes trailing away from her toward the frozen humans, standing still in suspended time. "Want to dance?" He asked abruptly, his grey eyes darkening with power, and the beautiful song resumed and humans began to move again, dancing and clapping and smiling, oblivious as ever. "It would be an injustice not to, especially for this song."
Hera was already numb to shock. "Do I have a choice?" She found herself asking, her voice silent and mute.
"Of course." Zeus said with such naturalness as if that was the most given thing in the world. He stood up and extended his hand toward her in invitation, which she accepted subconsciously, clasping his hand with a slight tremble.
"Yes, of course." Hera nodded repeatedly, following him onto the dance floor. "Of course."
Zeus looked at her with that new, grating look, filled with worried pity, cautious as he led her into the dancing crowds, as though she might just break down right there and then, which actually wasn't too far off from her current state, as much as Hera hated to admit. Still, she tried to gather herself, to maintain a modicum of composure.
The dancing mortals moved away subconsciously, even the married couple, as Hera and Zeus reached the very center. Then the music stopped playing for a second as Zeus turned to look at her. "Ready?" His hold on hers tightened, then loosened as the song began to play again, even louder than before.
Hera's answer spoke for itself, as she freed herself from his hold and began side-stepping from Zeus, her hands immediately on her hips, falling into the rhythm of the song, her steps echoing in sync, and Zeus followed her lead, his lips gaining a smile as he did so.
Beguine was a lively dance, one of harmony and spiritedness, meant for couples, with twirls and steps filled with sensuality and passion that only those that shared their hearts with each other could truly bring out.
Dancing with this Zeus strangely calmed her down, maybe it was the way that Zeus still seemed to know all of her habits, predicting her next moves, keeping up with her immaculately, or maybe it was the way his touches on her felt, the soothing and warm sensation, so foreign yet familiar, or it could have just been his eyes, looking at her with the burning love that was lost ages ago.
The song got louder and louder. Zeus grasped her hand abruptly, and pulled her upward. They began to climb through the fabric of space, as if on invisible staircase, still dancing their steps flawlessly. The ceiling of the tent disintegrated and the sound of the song erupted out like an volcanic explosion, reaching the heavens. The mortals were still dancing in the tent, though, unaffected and oblivious as ever.
Hera wondered what this Zeus was up to as they reached well up into the night sky, overlooking all of the city of Dallas, but just then the answer showed itself; Zeus's eyes completely darkened with countless points of light within them, almost like the entire night sky was compressed within them, but just brighter and more brilliant than the one around them, like in the Age where the Gods ruled the world.
There was a ripple in Zeus' starry eyes, spreading outward and impacting the sky around them. As the ripple swept across the sky like a wave, growing and rising, the night brightened in its advent. Lost stars began to shine once again, dazzling through the eternal darkness of the night. Millions upon millions of stars appeared in the night sky, the Milky Way unveiling itself in all of its glory throughout the expanse. Half of the world bathed in the brilliance of the Milky Way within mere moments.
Around the world, the Mist was beginning to stir and become thicker in an attempt to conceal this cosmic phenomenon from the mortals, but there was only so much that the Mist could do, especially for something of this magnitude, affecting half of the world. Zeus was walking on a thin rope, almost on the verge of breaking the ancient law of secrecy that forbade the Gods from revealing the existence of the extraordinary, tangible part of the world.
A single misstep, and a legion of Angels would descend upon Olympus. But it didn't stop either of them from continuing their dance amidst the sea of stars, forgetting everything but each other, their steps, bodies, souls in sync and rhythm as they danced and twirled their hearts out.
In the end, all Hera could ask Zeus was "Why?" her hand finding his, their faces bathed in starlight. Her eyes welled with tears, lost in memories of times long past.
"Why?" Zeus echoed her question, savouring its flavour for a moment. He held her hand tighter, his other hand drawing her closer, their faces mere inches apart. "Honestly, I just wanted to do something for you, no grand motivations," he confessed. His gaze followed the brilliantly burning stars in the night sky. There was power in it, not just Zeus's, but something more primordial and fundamental. "And I don't think Night really minds revealing some of her true glory to the world again."
Something inside Hera snapped, shattering into a million invisible shards, leaving her scarred all over. Tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks. "Who are you?" She whispered. "You're not Zeus." Her voice rang with absolute certainty.
"Oh, but I am," Zeus retorted, his tone matching hers, maddeningly so.
"Maybe," Hera didn't outright deny it, but the certainty never left her voice. "But you're certainly not the Zeus I know," she glanced aside, gently slipping out of his embrace. "The one I had loved and married."
Zeus winced slightly at her words. "Had , huh?" He chuckled wryly at her deliberate use of tense. "Well, you're right. I'm not the Zeus you know, not entirely, at least. It's all rather confusing, to be honest," he confessed, taking a thoughtful and emotional pause, locking eyes with hers. "The truth is, I've changed, and I don't think there's a way back. Even if there were, I wouldn't want to take it because I like who I am now."
At his confession, Hera scrutinised Zeus, taking in all of his changes and differences once again to process her emotions, to process all that had happened. She thought her heart would be chaotic, conflicting as the different versions of Zeus mangled together in a struggle for dominance, turning it into a battlefield of emotions, but all her heart felt was relief—relief so consuming that it reeled her into a state of shock. And the image of the old Zeus began to burn ragingly in her heart, so rapidly into a blaze like her heart just wanted to get rid of it immediately and forever more.
"So?" Zeus continued, his eyebrows pinched in question, tinged with the hint of alluring anticipation. He still maintained a distance from her, giving her all the space she needed.
The last embers of the old faded and all that remained before her was this new Zeus, the one who looked authoritative and kind, the one who seemed considerate and assertive, the one who seemed gentle yet bold. There were still too many unknowns about the Zeus standing in front of her, and she would unravel them, surely, but not now, not at this moment, under his simple yet profound question.
"I don't know," Hera's response was raw and truthful. "I need time." Her form began to brighten with power, distorting the fabric of space. "This is all too much."
Zeus seemed disappointed, but didn't stop her, even as she ran away from him, obviously, understandingly. Some part of her was still unable to accept the enormity of it all. She needed to talk to someone, someone she could pour her heart out to and process it all.
Hera reached into her family divinity, feeling the web of connections she shared with everyone who was related to her, from Gods to Demigods to even monsters. Among them, six connections stood out the most, stronger than any others by humongous margins. Five represented her husband and siblings, but it was the last one she focused on, putting her power into it to reach the other end of the connection.
The fabric of reality warped in the middle of her teleportation, hurling her towards the other side of the world, across continents and oceans in a fraction of a second. It was all nothing but chaos for a moment, then everything calmed down, stabilised to reveal her mother teaching a group of mortal children, against the backdrop of the wooden mansions and villas of Manila, mirroring the ways of America.
Rhea acknowledged Hera with a nod, continuing the lesson without missing a beat. Hera took a seat at the back, in the last row of the worn yet lively class, simply observing as her mother taught with an unwavering, encouraging smile.
When class was done and the students left, Hera hugged her mother, who patted her back placatingly as she began to pour out everything amidst tears and whispers.
