Olympus
Hera walked through the gardens of Olympus with careful grace. Olive branches swayed overhead, their silver-green leaves rustling softly in the mountain breeze. She let her fingertips brush against them as she passed, her face calm and composed. But inside, her thoughts were coiling tighter with each step.
She had seen Zeus's eyes just now. The way they flickered with gratitude, but not love. The way his praise landed shallow, never sinking deep enough to touch her heart. She felt it like cold water pouring down her spine. Praise without intimacy. Acceptance without devotion.
She hated it.
She paused by a marble fountain carved with scenes of old wars. Water spilled gently over the rim, catching the sun in soft flashes. Hera looked down at her reflection. The flawless face. The dark hair pinned in elegant coils. The eyes that had made countless gods and men flinch from their sharpness.
A queen's face.
But not his queen.
