Percy Jackson : How to be a Competent King of Gods

"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.