The Birth Of A God

Hera was joyous. No, that would be an understatement; Hera was ecstatic, euphoric, erratic!

She had finally been able to conceive by herself! Ever since Prometheus had smashed her husband's head into two and that annoyingly brilliant Goddess sprouted forth, jealousy began to emerge inside of her.

Even though it was known that it was the child of Metis, Hera could not help but brood in sadness at the thought that the child had been able to grow inside of Zeus; A place so unfit for anything to begin life, was able to come out so perfect.

Then Dionysus was born from the thigh of Zeus.

Then Apollo and Artemis, born from that bitch, Leto.

Time and time again had Zeus proven to Hera her incompetence and that she was not needed to bring forth great things for HER KINGDOM.

She felt the need to one-up her husband. For too long had she been seen as the 'Wife of Zeus' or 'Queen of Olympus'. She, as a Goddess, was not admired, but the titles she holds because of Zeus.

Of course, she still loves him, they both were able to give birth to a powerful son, Ares. He can be impulsive and violent, but he was a God, a child of the rulers no less, his doing as he wishes is a small commodity for what he could be doing.

A couple hundred thousand mortal deaths in a few years are nothing. Who cares anyway? Their souls are made to be forgotten in the Underworld; Hades makes sure of that.

Her new child will be much much more than those others. Her child will be greater than the greatest. The one made by her essence and divinity will conquer this planet for her, ruling over Olympus and Greece with the Titans firmly under them, and the name Hera will be known as the bringer of the lord.

However, there was one problem. Hera would love to say it was minor but no, it was not. This was a major problem. Ever since she was able to create this life inside of her, she had been cold. It was a piercing, searching, biting cold across her body that she could not bring to warmth.

Even her elder sister, Hestia, seemed lost.

"This…child of yours," she would begin softly, "It seems to just take in the heat of my hearth. It welcomes it. Normally I should be able to retract it, like a tug between those in the markets when stealing, but, they seem to keep hold with a firm grip,"

That was the explanation she would give me. It seems this child has a strong affinity to fire…

I would have hoped for something greater than that, though it means nothing. My baby will grow to further heights, they were already able to steal Hestia's fire from her after all.

The child in her seemed to be absorbing all things that are emitting heat, causing the distress Hera is currently in.

Hera placed a hand on her stomach, focusing, trying to ignore the bitter chills as she slowed her breathing.

There was only one small relief that she would feel when she drank the lava and inhaled the fires of countless volcanoes and sometimes even fires of Tartarus.

Obviously this is dangerous, but without the constant act of sustaining herself she would have to live through the cold abyss she found herself lost in.

Of course, the cause of this problem was obvious. The cold became so fierce at times that she would have to flee Olympus to stop anyone seeing her state. It would be an embarrassment to her for anyone to see her in such a state. Especially her husband, who thinks that it was his child causing all of this trouble.

She knew that the moment he realized the child would cause trouble he would leave on his 'exploits'.

Time eventually passed and the time came for her to finally give birth, to be released from her prison of cold and loneliness.

Finally, once the babe had been born, a soothing, calming warmth spread across all of Olympus, easing all who were present.

This caused a halt in Hera's actions as it was her first feeling of true bliss ever since the child had been trapped inside her; it felt to be a good omen for her.

One of her servants stared at the child in wonder, her eyes scanning across what seemed to be like patterns.

"Bring me, my child," Hera said, her body already back to normal status.

Her servant swiftly snatched up the child and handed her over to her lady. Hera peered down, to have the first sight of her child.

It had a strong, deep tan. Delicate fiery flames seemed to whirl around inside its body through small markings across its face and neck. Their eyebrows seemed to follow that similar flamed pattern as they flowed in the wind. Again, this followed into their small strands of hair they had, fire thrusting its way around.

Hera was not pleased. Not at all. Her child should have been beautiful like her. Instead, she had received a fiery monstrosity that did not apply to anything like any other Gods or Goddesses before him.

'Why?' Was the only question that rang throughout her head.

Eclipsing anger rose within her, so powerful that the room she was in began to tremble and her servant began pulsating in fear.

The servant had never felt anything like it before. Poor thing was but a shell to her strength. A small reminder of how powerful she was which in turn reassured her of her position.

'Yes…that's right. I AM powerful. This foolish thing even grovels at the waves of my being. It's laughable, the lengths I would go for a feeling so trivial. Someone as great as me has no room for jealousy; This was a failure. Ares is enough,' Hera thought to herself.

With these thoughts in mind, she turned towards her failure, this ungodly, abnormally built thing beside her, reaching out and grasping it tightly.

"Waaaaah!…uhhhh…waaaaah!"

A loud cry called out, causing Hera to look down and see an enchanting pair of eyes, once more carrying the fire from his other aspects. The iris glowed bright, over all of his eyes, illuminating his pupil, turning his sclera into a soothing orange.

Tears that formed at its eyelids seemed to take the form of lava, dissipating into the air like dust.

"To be a child of me, Hera, and hold barely any resemblance at all…pathetic" Hera muttered, clearly annoyed.

To not cause any more hesitation, Hera began holding it away from her as to not get too close, and with a single swing, sent it flying across Greece, into a place she hopes never to see that thing again.

….

I feel an incoherent noise come from my neck, resembling the whaling of a child or an animal.

My eyelids flutter open, feeling humid bits of liquid forming near my eyes, causing them to squint slightly.

I look around, noticing that this beautifully decorated room was not at all what I was used to. The pillars built like a temple are unlike anything I've ever seen, a majestic white canopy coupled with the piercing sun beaming through slightly in the gaps of the construct.

Not at all what I was once in. Still, white in its decor but this time there are materialistic forms.

I notice how I can still feel where than mysterious flame had carefully drawn itself a small pattern onto my face. Slightly solid etchings on the areas that it had thrust one of its tendrils in, my head spinning from the sudden influx of information.

My mind began to assess all the small imperfections of the room. The slight displacement of the room, the balance close but so far to perfection, a small set of weapons near the back of the room which looked just so…wrong. Something which I couldn't place was bothering a small itch in the back of my mind.

"Child…Hera…resemblance…pathetic," A calming, smooth voice calls out.

My mind was too distracted and focused on the crafts of my area that my ears were barely able to intake the required, hearing only snippets of a sentence.

Hera? Child? Am I in Greece or something?

Suddenly, my body is jerked away, only now can I notice that there was somebody in front of me. In the process of…throwing me?

I wasn't able to fully process what was happening before I felt my body having a battle against the air; I became so light and delicate as I spun around constantly, having no time to understand what was happening.

Thus began the life of Hephaestus, God of Crafts, Forge and Fire; Overseer of Olympus.