55: Jealous.

On Livejournal, I'm doing the 100 Moods writing challenge. Basically, I've got as long as I want to write one hundred fics about Greek Mythological characters. (You can view my list here - but be warned that things there can be anything from PG to 18.)

This fic is mood #55, and is about a character from the Greek Myths called Hera. (Also featuring Zeus, Ganymedes, Hebe and nymphs.)

*

It had been a grand day of visiting the other gods and goddesses – right up until now. Hera was forced to watch, and powerless to do anything, as Zeus touched and kissed the boy Ganymedes. Long ago, such a sight would have made her breath catch with hatred, and her eyes darken with the lust for vengeance. Now, she simply tried to ignore it as Zeus’ casual touches became less and less gentle, and much, much more intimate.

She swallowed a lump in her throat, and gazed at the nymphs around her; it was either that, or burst into tears. It wasn’t often that they visited their Queen, so it should have been an honour, a lovely surprise. But Zeus was wrecking everything, as he so often did, and Hera was growing sick to death of it.

Ganymedes belonged to Aphrodite, now. She’d made him give the boy away to her, but it hadn’t prevented anything. Once a month, he had to return to their sky-palace to stay with them for a week; that had been the deal. Hera didn’t like to think what they did behind closed doors, if Zeus so openly displayed affection to the bewildered god.

Hera and her nymphs were enjoying a party – or, at least, they were trying to. They’d spread a white lace blanket across the grass of one of the palace’s huge gardens, and packets of biscuits and glasses of wine were scattered across the blanket. A sun-umbrella rose up above them, casting long shadows on all their faces – and hiding the glimmer of jealous, heartbroken tears in the Queen’s eyes.

One of the nymphs—Hera couldn’t remember her name—offered a tissue to Hera. She took it gratefully, and dabbed at her eyes even as Ganymedes fled by, pretending to have important duties at the palace – but simply wanting to get away from the lustful Zeus, hot on his heels. Bile rose in her throat; she twisted her fingers into her thick, Tudor-style skirt and smothered her outraged cry. She couldn’t even help him, the poor boy; and she wasn’t sure that she would help him if she could.

Zeus was a force to be reckoned with, these days.

“Mistress?” the helpful nymph beside her asked. She reached out, found the Queen’s hand, and gently squeezed. Around them, the other nymphs breathed in sharply; Zeus’ unabashed desires were well-known, but as was the ferocious temper of his wife. It’s not my fault, though, she thought sadly. He has made me become this.

It was true. Before she’d married him—and for a little while after the marriage—she had been as lovely and carefree as any of the gentle-eyed nymphs around her. She had laughed and she had loved – but then she’d fallen for him, and she wished now that she’d never even met him.

But even as she regretted their love, she still adored him. He knew that; and that was why he would always win: because she loved him, because she still wanted to be his wife, and because she didn’t want to leave him.

She could survive on her own, she knew that as well as she knew herself. But it would just be that – surviving. There would be no more occasional kisses, and lingering touches; all the signs that he still loved her, no matter how deeply that love was buried beneath all his lusts and stirring desires. If she left him, perhaps he would come after her. Perhaps he would plead for her to take him back, and perhaps he would pledge his everlasting fidelity to her.

Or perhaps not. She had no way of knowing – how could she ever know? You can’t ever know if something will work unless you try it.

But did she dare take that risk?

It’s time to move on, she thought. She gave the nymph a small smile, and squeezed her hand back. The others let out a collective, quiet sigh of relief; like feathers falling from high above, drifting to the ground with just a whisper. She stood, and they all stood with her, peering out of the shade toward Zeus as he advanced toward the trembling Ganymedes.

Their eyes returned to her, and she motioned for them to remain here. “I shan’t be long,” she murmured. She started toward Zeus and Ganymedes; her daughter, Hebe, joined her, casually linking her arm with her mother’s.

“Where are you headed, Ma?” she asked lightly.

“To get a divorce from your father.”

Hebe gasped. Her face paled in shock, and Hera gently untangled her arm from hers, and continued on toward Zeus. She was almost close enough to touch him now, as was he to Ganymedes, who had been backed up against a hedge-animal and was now looking at Hera with hope and fear battling in his eyes.

She paused for a moment, half-tempted to simply return to her nymphs and her shocked daughter and let Ganymedes pay for her jealousy. But, no – that was the Hera of old. Out with the old, in with the new.

The new Hera, she decided, would intervene; and so she did. She took the final few steps forward, and tapped her husband’s shoulder. He turned toward her, and froze; the confidence in her eyes a direct contrast to the sudden worry in his. She gave him a tight smile, and offered each of her cheeks to him, as always. Ganymedes took the opportunity to escape, and she couldn’t find it in herself to blame him for any of this. It wasn’t his fault – it was Zeus’ and her own.

“Zeus,” she said, confidently – “I want a divorce.