How Could She?

As we sat around the campfire that evening, the flames casting flickering shadows across our faces, I decided it was time to broach the subject that had been weighing on my mind. I needed to know more about these famed labors without arousing suspicion.

"So, Iolaus," I began, trying to sound casual, "remind me again about these labors we're undertaking. You know, for... motivational purposes."

Iolaus looked at me quizzically. "Motivational purposes? Hercules, these labors are your penance, not a team-building exercise." He sighed, poking at the fire with a stick. "But if you insist on rehashing it, very well."

I leaned in, eager to hear the story from a primary source, so to speak. Iolaus's voice took on a somber tone as he began."It all started with Hera's curse," he said, his eyes reflecting the dancing flames.

"In her jealousy, she drove you to... well, you know." He paused, clearly uncomfortable.I nodded solemnly, though internally I was frantically trying to recall the specifics of the myth. Hera's curse. Hercules' madness. The tragic fate of his family... It was all flooding back now, a dark chapter of the legend that made my stomach twist. The goddess Hera, always bitter over Zeus' infidelity, had turned her anger toward Hercules, the living proof of Zeus' betrayal. She couldn't harm Zeus directly, so she chose to torment his son.

A chill ran through me as I remembered how Hera had driven Hercules into a fit of uncontrollable madness. In that blind rage, he had slain his own wife and children—innocent victims of a divine grudge. 

The weight of that memory settled heavily in my chest, and as I thought about it now, a sudden flash of anger flickered in my heart.

How could she? I wondered. I had read the stories countless times, but now, standing in the thick of it, I felt the injustice on a deeper, more personal level. Hera's cruelty, born out of jealousy, had shattered the life of a hero who had done nothing to deserve such torment. 

'A mother's rage misplaced,' I thought bitterly.

The flickering fire seemed to mirror the small flame of fury building inside me. Hera's power was undeniable, but at this moment, I couldn't help but feel a surge of resentment toward the queen of the gods. 

'To destroy a family in her feud against Zeus?' 

I clenched my fist unconsciously. It was one thing to read about it in a book—distant, detached. Living it, even vicariously, stirred a raw emotion I hadn't expected.

Iolaus continued Oblivious to my inner thoughts, "After you came to your senses, you sought purification. The Oracle of Delphi directed you to serve King Eurystheus for twelve years, performing whatever labors he might set for you."

"Right....." I said, trying to sound like I was merely refreshing my memory rather than learning this for the first time. 

"And how many of these labors have we completed so far?" I asked even though I knew the answer to it, it was just to confirm if the myth was actually real or not.

However, that made Iolaus stare at me, dumbfounded. "How many? Hercules, we haven't even started! The Nemean Lion is to be your first labor. Surely you haven't forgotten?"

I laughed nervously, running a hand through my hair – Hercules' hair, I reminded myself. "Of course not! I was just... testing you. Making sure you were keeping track."

At least now I know that the myth about the labours are real.

Iolaus shook his head, a mix of concern and amusement on his face. "Well, allow me to lay it out for you, since you seem so keen on revision. Eurystheus has decreed twelve labors in total. We don't know what they'll all be yet, but rumor has it they're designed to be impossible."

"Impossible for a mere mortal, perhaps," I said, trying to inject some Herculean bravado into my voice.

"That's more like the Hercules I know," Iolaus grinned. "Though I must say, your sudden interest in the details is... unexpected. Usually, you're more of a 'smash first, ask questions later' type."

I shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "Well, you know what they say – know your enemy, know yourself, and you need not fear the result of a hundred battles."

Iolaus blinked at me. "Who says that?"

"Uh... just an old proverb I picked up," I backpedaled, mentally kicking myself for quoting Sun Tzu to a mythological Greek hero.

As Iolaus continued to recount what he knew of the labors – the Nemean Lion, the Lernaean Hydra, the Erymanthian Boar – I found myself torn between academic excitement and very real fear. Each task sounded more daunting than the last, a veritable gauntlet of mythological terrors.

"And to think," Iolaus concluded, "the Nemean Lion is just the beginning. They say its hide is impervious to all weapons. How do you kill something that can't be harmed?"

I gulped, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. I wasn't just living history - I was expected to make it. 

To perform feats that had become legendary, feats that the real Hercules had accomplished through a combination of divine strength and heroic courage. And here I was, a scholar playing at being a hero.

"We'll find a way," I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. "After all, that's what heroes do, right? Overcome the impossible?"

Iolaus nodded, clapping me on the shoulder. "That's the spirit! Though I must say, Hercules, your philosophical bent tonight is quite refreshing. Perhaps these labors will make a thinker out of you yet!"

As we settled down to sleep, my mind raced with everything I'd learned. The twelve labors stretched out before me, a series of challenges that would test not just Hercules' legendary strength, but my own wit and knowledge.

I stared up at the star-filled sky, so much clearer and brighter than I'd ever seen in my own time. Somewhere up there, I mused, the gods were watching. What did they make of this impostor Hercules? Was this all part of some divine plan, or a cosmic joke at my expense?

One thing was certain – the journey to Nemea, and the confrontation with the Nemean Lion, now loomed larger than ever in my mind. As sleep finally claimed me, my dreams were filled with roaring lions, many-headed hydras, and the looming sense that I was in way, way over my head.

But as daunting as the road ahead seemed, a small part of me – the part that had always longed to experience these myths firsthand – couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. After all, how many scholars get the chance to not just study history, but to live it... and perhaps even change it?

With that thought, I drifted off into an uneasy sleep, the first light of dawn and the start of our journey to Nemea just a few short hours away.

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