Don’t know… how could she not know? Part of Hades wanted to shake Hera violently and yell it in her face. But obviously he knew better than to do either of those things.
"Well… Do you know what happened then?" maybe he wasn’t the most sensitive person concerning dead things, or blood… and gore. If anything it had some kind of charm to him.
Kneeling beside the remains he didn’t shy away from getting his own hands dirty, moving the parts around as if they could tell him of the missing pieces in the story. “Who is… was it?”
"No, I don’t suppose you’d want anyone to see this.”
Poseidon was not being sympathetic about their sister’s predicament either. He didn’t take the same macabre pleasure in it as Hades but he found the situation mildly intriguing.
A look was traded between brothers once Hades’ question added to the mystery. If Hera was developing the same unstable tendency as the oldest broher, blacking out after snapping, they were going to have a much problem on their hands than just a dead body.
"Who cares?" Poseidon said all the same, blasé and cold, and walked up to wrap their shaken sister in a big hug. "We need to clean this mess up before father sees it. Then we need to find the rest of the body and make sure no one else’s seen it. Can’t have people knowing our sweet little sister is capable of more than a few stinging slaps, can we?"
”She was getting on my nerves.”
Hera couldn’t meet Hades’ eyes as she spoke. Shame boiled up inside the young goddess. Violence had never been her brand of cruelty. It was coarse and undignified and most of all she didn’t want Hades to think badly of her (Poseidon’s opinion wasn’t as important). But these past few weeks had been wearing her down. Bit by bit they’d hammered away on her defenses until Hera had been left bare with all her nerves and emotions outside her body.
The girl had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, saying the wrong things.
”… I don’t know, she just came from Zeus’ chambers.”
A look of self-hatred fitted over Hera’s face and she buried it against Poseidon’s chest. The embrace was making her feel a little bit better; his words helped on a much larger scale. What a relief it would be if they could just do that. Sweep it all under the rug and pretend like it’d never happened. Hera even let Poseidon’s jibe go unnoticed to ensure they were heading that way.
deadhasneverbeenmorealive and thefishmaster asked:
"Where is the rest of the body?"
”I don’t know!" Hera sniffed. "If I did do you think I’d be calling for the both of you?"
Her nose was red from crying so much and Hera’s dainty hands were still covered in blood. On the floor in her temple lay what had once been a beautiful maiden. Now the girl was barely recognizable under all the wounds Hera had inflicted.
”I don’t know what to do.”
Send me one and see how my muse reacts. Can work as an ice-breaker, starter or nothing more than a little ask.
His eyes flickered towards the Queen, the usual presumptuous grin coursing through his lips as he sauntered towards her. A swift shake of his head threw her words over his shoulder, a scoff caught in his throat as he neared Hera.
"I could never, Mother. It would be a sin to forget my favorite person."
”The doctrine of sin is central to Christianity, dear. Not us. I will not have those liberal, good-for-nothing concepts polluting my temple.”
Hera deflected her son’s flattery but did she remain unmoved? Of course not. If anyone had access, or at least visiting rights, to her heart it would be him. No one was more favored by the Queen of Olympus than her first born son. Naturally she seldom told him this, and Hera did her best never to show it, but it was common knowledge.
”Where have you been? What have you been doing, Ares?”
How to Turn All Your Essays into Feminist Rants No Matter the Subject Matter: An Autobiography by Me.
The mention of marriage caused her to roll her eyes, Athena didn’t want
anything to do with love. The Goddess’ stood straight, clearing her throat.
”You know well I wish not to marry. I have other things to do then that.”
A pause occurred, eyes shifting to the side as she scratched the back of her head,
”Well,anyways, how are you?”
”Yes, I can see that. Visiting your step-mother in the middle of the day and conversing with mortals. You are truly a busy woman, Athena.”
Hera lightly mocked her adoptive daughter. This was not a subject she would ever let slide. If Hera had one quest in this modern age it was to make sure Athena and Artemis turned away from their notions of virginity and purity.
It was, after all, nothing but a social construct. A way of policing other people’s bodies and passing judgment on how they use them. It was, at its very core, a way of controlling and subjugating women and Hera would have none of that.
Not any more.
”I would be better if I did not have to worry about my adoptive children as well as those I actually gave birth to. If you had one sympathetic bone in your body you’d ease my burden and find yourself a husband or a wife. I’ve been trying to get Ares to marry for thousands of years. Why must the two of you be so stubborn? You are supposed to be the reasonable one, Athena.”
The prodigal son returns. Bearing too little remorse for his action and far too late if you asked his mother. The often cold and callous Queen of Olympus gave her eldest son a cool smile when he appeared in the opening to her temple.
”I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.”