The tale of Hera

 have gray or brown irises, but the man’s irises had a unique color seldom seen, sparking curiosity.

I wanted to examine those gem-like irises more closely, but his gaze was directed downwards, preventing me from doing so, and I felt a sense of regret.

His lowered face prominently displayed the man’s high, sharp nose. There wasn’t a single dull aspect to it; it seemed as though touching it would cut. Pushing aside the beard, clean lips were situated beneath a well-defined chin.

The lips, exhaling rough breath drawn up from the depths of his chest, bore a touch of russet. They were parted slightly, just enough to fit a single finger. It’s not visible but judging by the outline revealed above the skin of his lips, they seemed firm and well-kept.

I admit it. The man was undeniably handsome like Zeus. A warrior’s handsome face could sometimes give an impression of vulnerability to enemies, yet the man’s strong jaw, which seemed to symbolize his unyielding determination, complemented that impression.

His robust neck, though not overly thick, was remarkably long, reminiscent of a deer’s. The trapezius muscles connecting the shoulders and neck protruded like they were in a state of fury. Broad shoulders and sturdy biceps evoked images of Hercules. Furthermore, the man’s physique was that of a well-trained warrior. It’s reminiscent of the imprisoned sons of Gaia, trapped beneath the depths of Tartarus, having once triumphed over both Zeus and Poseidon, rendering them powerless.

During the brief period I observed him closely, the man engaged in methodical actions to rid himself of the obstacles that had tormented him during the battle. He secured the helmet snugly on his slim waist, then retrieved a linen sleeve from under the wrist guard, using it as a makeshift towel to vigorously wipe his face.

In the midst of wiping his blood- and sweat-streaked face, the man abruptly halted his actions.

Like a predatory beast sensing a threat, he remained utterly still, his breath held, slowly lifting his head. His vivid, grape-colored eyes flashed as they fixed directly on my position.

Time seemed to stand still, frozen for eternity.

The man seemed to know that there was something here.

He seemed to know that ‘I’ was here.

Discovering me? Hera?

I chuckled. No. That’s impossible. How could an ordinary human discern the appearance of an immortal concealed by the black mist?

I was quite taken aback, not quite myself. With furrowed brows and a slight tilt of my head, I met his gaze head-on with my dark blue eyes. Our gazes locked and wouldn’t waver. I swallowed a dry gulp.

The goddess Hera wouldn’t be daunted by the mere presence of a mortal man.

Without taking my eyes off him, I wearily took a few steps to the left. Amidst the chaotic battle where soldiers fought and killed one another, the man seemed to see only me. With his gaze fixed squarely on my face, he turned his head to his right. This time, I moved seven paces to the right. The man turned his head to his left and followed precisely in my direction.

Suddenly, I realized that instead of wasting time with futile actions, it might be better to directly ask the man if he could see me. I returned to my original position and stood still, then gazed at the man.

“Human, how can you see me?” 

I spoke.

The man’s grape-colored eyes flared fiercely, as if his eyebrows might touch. He slightly moved his lips.

“……”

“What?” 

I asked, tilting my head since I hadn’t heard clearly.

“Do…”

His words came through in fragments.

“Do… what?”

Before the stifling man’s voice could reach my ears, I awoke from my slumber.

The dream had driven me away.

“How peculiar.” 

I murmured softly, finishing my reverie.

“No matter how I think about it, it wasn’t a dream sad enough to bring tears. Yet, why did tears keep flowing uncontrollably upon waking?”

Hearing me speak, Hebe nodded her head with a perplexed expression.

“Recognizing mother was all the man seemed to have done. It’s a strange dream indeed. You couldn’t even hear what profound words that man might have spoken. But since it was your dream, it could be an extraordinary vision foreseeing things that may happen in the future.”

Hebe made a plausible suggestion, wondering if it might be a good idea to visit the three powerful Fates, who possessed remarkable prophetic abilities, and share the dream’s content to seek guidance.

I immediately recognized the real intention hidden behind her words. The Fates, who could never let go of their threads for even a moment, were naturally expected to be absent from today’s wedding. If I were to visit their cave, it would provide a convenient excuse for missing the wedding.

That’s exactly what Hebe wanted. For me not to attend the wedding of the goddess Thetis.

But that’s not possible.

As a goddess who safeguards marriage and family, if I don’t reveal myself at a wedding where all the gods gather, it would be equivalent to openly declaring a curse on the future of the newlyweds.

Zeus, who is struggling to swallow his pride, sending his beloved woman to a mere mortal man who doesn’t even know her, will likely think I’ve become blinded by jealousy and ruined the celebration of the gods again.

He will flare up in anger like a fire, and those sparks will also reach Hebe.

Moreover, when it comes to the prophetic power of my dreams, I know myself better than the Fates themselves.

Before Zeus took Apollo, his illustrious son born of Leto, as the god of prophecy, I always dreamt of foreseeing the future with utmost accuracy. However, ever since Zeus granted Apollo the position of the god of prophecy and took it away from me, my ability to foresee has dwindled away overnight.

My dreams had degraded over time, becoming nothing more than vague and unreliable notions, not much different from what humans dream of.

Hebe wouldn’t know about such matters, and there’s no need for her to know. So, I remained silent, lifting the corners of my mouth to form a slight smile.

“Before the wedding ceremony begins, I will need your assistance to finalize the preparations. Will you help?”

I spoke to Hebe while looking at her.

“Yes, Mother. Of course.”

She replied.

I stepped onto the floor outside the bed with both feet. Standing tall with my back straight.

My daughter’s expression darkened for a moment, but it quickly brightened like a newly lit flame. Hebe hurriedly approached my side as I walked ahead.

We walked to the bathhouse filled with spring water that flowed from Mount Olympus. Walking side by side, I became lost in thought as I gazed down at Hebe’s round head, a head smaller than mine.

I wondered why I had become a mother who had to be looked at with pity even by my own daughter.