Wanda
Just outside sits Hera's lush and enchanting gardens. Featuring vibrant flora and ethereal blooms. The goddess Hera tends to these gardens, creating a serene retreat within Olympus. The gardens are often a place of respite and reflection for the gods.
Barbara
Undead hands grasped at the owl that seemed to peck and scratch its way out of the group of corpses that had found their way to the doorstep of Queen of Hearts Inc. Hera could feel as boney fingers dripping with rotting flesh clawed at her, tugging at her feathers and making her hiss in pain as her talons slashed, the smell of stale blood covering her. The darkness had come so quickly, and the undead seemed to appear out of nowhere, attacking without any warning. She had needed to get home, needed to escape back to safety, but on her way out she had been completely set upon. Her wings beat at the air, her small, nimble body twisted and squirmed around until the last hooked finger bone slipped off her form, flying off into the darkness, away from the snarling dead.
.
It took her a while to half-crash and half-land in the cordoned off section of her garden. Her form shifted back into the once beautiful blue pantsuit, now covered in rotting flesh and sinew. Dirty was one thing Hera prized herself on never being. Ever. Yet here she was, disgusting. Hades. It must be him. It was always one of the so-called big three. Emotional man babies. Given too much power and not enough sense. Hera groaned as she stared at herself in the reflection of her jeweled compact, picking bits of rotten flesh from her hair before throwing it down, watching as glass and precious stones scattered on the pathway. 
.
It didn't take long for the Goddess of Marriage to strip away the clothes and step into one of the large wading pools, the water clouding with blood as it washed away from her flesh. She was unsure whether or not she could handle this mess without reaching out to him. Zeus. Her husband. Her hand blindly felt for her pants, pulling her cellphone from the pocket and opened her text messages, typing out,If you are alive, find me in my garden and clicked send before tossing the phone onto the marble walkway, not caring if this one broke or not. 
.

Hera sunk into the water and opened her eyes, letting her hair float around her, suspended except for the light current from the fountain. It was peaceful here in the water, ironic as she was not one to enjoy Poseidon or his oceanic depths, she always enjoyed the soaking pools and baths of Olympus and her own spaces. Long luxurious baths and oils, bombs, suds had become one of her favorite things about the modern world, and had practically bought out every Lush within a 100 mile radius. Alas, this pool would have to do until she could make it back to her clawfoot tub. 
.
Popping her head out of the water for a breath, Hera lazily swam back and forth as she thought. She knew war was coming, it had been brewing for what felt like forever. Three brothers with immense powers and even more impressive egos. Gods. DemiGods. Humans. Men seemed to bring chaos with them wherever they went, inciting it with pissing contests and competition. Now it seemed there was no way for Hera to stay out of this one and she already knew whose loyalty she would pledge herself to. 
.
There was a dull ache in the heart that had been fortified over the years. Walls of metal and stone and lightening and gold all overed the heart that had been broken so many times over. It was barely held together except that now, no one could touch it. No one could get close enough to that heart to heal it or break it ever again. She was content wasn't she? She was fine being alone, the Goddess of Marriage married to a man who had failed her for eons? It was a joke she knew stained her pride and roiled that anger within her. Even with it all, Hera knew she was loyal to a fault, and Zeus would have her in this fight. Though, she thought, would it be so bad to make him work for it? A sly smile parted her lips for the first time today as she moved to the edge of the pool and wrapped a towel around her lithe body, waiting for her husband to appear.
Sabrina
Zeus, always straying where he did not belong, found himself where time stood still. A woman with skin like the whisper of silk was present in his arms. As their lips met in an unsteady, searching kiss, her hands, delicate yet fervent, traced the contours of his shoulders. Her hair, wispy and golden, brushed his neck with the softness of a sigh. His knuckles traced the arc of her cheekbone, his eyes deep pools of insatiable desire. And in that moment, suspended between passion and eternity, his thoughts drifted. Ever restless, forever chasing satisfaction hidden on the horizon. 

He would not get stuck in her hair. 

In the heat of their embrace, Zeus found a fleeting escape. Every touch from her a blazing trail against the cold thought of war. Engulfed in the intensity, he poured his energy into her, desperate to anchor his thoughts away from the brewing storm in his mind. Until suddenly, there was a sharp knock on his bedroom door. The woman in his sheets drew rigid, with eyes round as saucers. Her breath instantly unsteady, she buried her nails into his skin. This reaction he found to be common, all of his women were fearful of Hera. But in stark contrast, Zeus's appeared flat. Almost bored with the interruption, he called out to the other side, his voice devoid of concern.

"You are interrupting me, *Why?*" 

There was a moment of quiet, and the gravity of it all did not sink in for Zeus. Hera catching him with other women came as a surprise to no one. As the years passed, so did his sensitivity to betraying her trust. He was not afraid to see her on the other side of the door, if she chose to peer in. But a second more passed, and the door handle did not twist. Instead, a voice barked through the oak, the familiar voice of a servant.

"Hera has sent a message, she is calling for you-" There was a brief pause, "You should not keep her waiting." 

—

The words muffled through the bedroom door yanked Zeus from the clutches of his haze. Chagrin sparked within him like a lightening strike- sudden, and purposeful. The servant's voice served as a stark reminder of all outside of his bedroom door. Zeus recoiled from the woman's embrace, his form retreating as if repelled by the very air that clung to her. His hands, once smoothing over the curve of her back, now withdrew without warning. He rose, casting a chasm of distance between them. Her fingers, delicate and questioning, reached for him. But with sharp dismissal, he shrugged her off. 

"What are you doing here still?" His gaze turned cold, "You will leave now, I've no use for you." 

A moment later, he emerged from the room fully clothed, his hair long and loose at his shoulders. As Zeus strode from what momentarily whisked him from reality, a flicker of irritation could be seen in his eyes. She would ruin even what she could not see for him. With a clenched jaw and an unruly heart, he made his way through her garden. Unsure of what she could want from him, he assumed she would talk about Poseidon. They had yet to discuss what was brewing on the horizon just like they had many things. The weight of it all hung in the air, mingling with the scent of blooming flowers. He approached the pool where she waited for him, wrapped in a towel, all kinds of tragic and lovely. 

"I am alive," He began, his eyes tinged with something unreadable, "You have called for me?"
Barbara
She could feel him before she saw him. There was a raw energy that hung in the air before Zeus arrived, and Hera had always secretly thrived on it, that zap of excitement. Even after all this time she was madly in love with her husband. She hated him yes, but she loved him more fiercely than any wife could a husband. It was her destiny after all, and that is why she despised him so. He was given a gift, a lifetime of a partner, endless loyalty and devotion, and yet... 
.
 Hera shook some of the droplets out of her long, chocolate hair. Did he still find he beautiful? She knew she was, but even with her heart guarded, that young woman inside who had been amazed by his acts of heroism always wished for his approval. She couldn't show it however. Weakness was something she had learned to guard against over these many millennia. She hid her emotions in a labyrinth even the King of the Gods could not find, nor did she believe he would even try anymore.  . Hera rose and moved to her husband with a swiftness only a Goddess could have, placing both of her hands on his chest, she leaned up and kissed his cheek with her soft lips. She inhaled, searching for that petrichor scent, reveling in it until... There. Of course. Perfume, sex, sweat, and a lone blonde hair on his collar. Her fingers deftly plucked the strand, so different from her own, and stepped back, examining it in the light.  
.
 "Another blonde?" She tutted and casually let the strand fall from her fingers. "You are getting predictable, husband." Hera turned and moved to sit on one of the stone benches. She didn't scream anymore. Well, unless wine was involved. Screaming had done nothing, and now he would be left with icy indifference and biting remarks that hid the pain and hurt within.  
.

"While you were having some... Afternoon delight as the humans call it, I was being attacked by your brother." She let the words hang heavy in the air for a moment. "The whole city was, Zeus. And not by the brother you think." She snorted, staring at the water as if that prick Poseidon would appear out of the depths. "Hades. It could have only been him. Thousands of the mindless dead roaming the streets, the sun blotted out, leaving us in utter blackness."
  .
 Her tone grew more and more frustrated and she got up, starting to pace towards and away from him. "War on all sides now? I knew you and your oceanic brother couldn't stop yourselves from ruining whatever slice of peace we could have carved out for ourselves, but Hades to? What have you two done to incur his wrath?" She spun to face him, her eyes glowing that violet color that seemed to expose her temper, marching right up to him with her chin tilted towards the sky so those burning eyes met his own. "You will need me in this fight Zeus. I have forever been loyal to you, stood by through all of your messes, your ego, your prideful decisions that hurt *Everyone* Around you. If I walked away now?" 
.
 Hera turned on the spot, her wet hair lashing out at him like a whip before she started to walk away once more. "No one would follow you if even the most loyal to you fell away the one and only who has *Never strayed from your side. If I left, who would believe in you? I think many of the Gods would applaud me for leaving, you know? In this day and age, women leave, divorce, start over." She turned back and crossed her arms, one perfectly sculpted brow raised. "You would of course have your blondes though. I'm sure they will come in handy during a war between the strongest of Gods."
Sabrina
Zeus peered over at Hera with an uncertain gaze and downturned lips. As she moved closer, there was a knowing air about her. Her hands rested gently on his chest, and he felt electricity buzzing in his abdomen. When their lips met, his fingers tightened around her wrist. His eyes remained slightly open, a detachment in his gaze. He watched as she plucked a blonde hair from his collar. Unsurprised, she pulled away. He did not attempt to keep her there. When she spoke it was bitter, and all too familiar. Before, it had not been her typical tune, but it had become that way. She turned from him and he exhaled slowly, his eyes met the clouds. 

*"Another blonde? You are getting predictable, husband."* 

He did not enjoy upsetting her, he just simply did. Observing her find solace on the stone bench, he remained at a distance. His hands clasped behind him, his expression etched into a rigid line. Understanding her had become a labyrinthine task; what once was harmonious had dissolved into a silent enigma. He concluded years ago, he mostly did not know what to make of her. There had been a time when their lives were intertwined in seamless unity, until he had awoken one day to the stark realization that he know longer knew her. 

Despite the turmoil and the reflection of their discord in every broken mirror, he wished to wake up next to her. His soul yearned for her presence, for the comfort of her shadow trailing behind him. He demanded both unconditional love and complete freedom.

*That was why he was terrible.*

—

He absorbed Hera's words, a chilling narrative painting the chaos that had unfurled. Dead wandering aimlessly through the streets, a world draped in darkness with the sun stolen away. As she spoke, the fog of his memory lifted, revealing flashes of the banquet's pandemonium—unfamiliar faces, the staccato of gunfire. Persephone had been wounded amidst the fray, and now retribution was in order. To him, it seemed a fitting course, yet not one he was responsible for. Prudence held his tongue in check, so he offered only his vigilant gaze as his wife wove her tale, but even in his silence, accusation found its way back to him.

*"What have you two done to incur his wrath?"*

As her words hung heavy in the air, they began to gnaw at him. He had tried to be civil, but despite every ounce of his discipline, he would not say silent in the face of accusation. He scowled, hardly a second passed between her words and his. 

"*I* Have done nothing. You forget who called for this war. You forget who set the city into disarray. There was an attack upon their castle, in *Response* To all Poseidon brought upon us." There was a hasty pause, "You may hate me. I will not allow you to turn everything upon me." 

His gaze was fierce, but he remained statuesque. There was a time her name rolled off his tongue like it was sacred. Yet, like all things, her glimmer lessened. Zeus was a being impossible to satisfy, and when there was no new adventure in her, he looked for it elsewhere. With everything to win, all he lost was her. The world would continue to turn, Olympus would stand, and somewhere along the way he taught himself they were far from compatible. So, was it not his right to find where he was desired? She pivoted, a whirlwind of chaos, her gaze aflame with crackling energy. In her wrath, she was a spectacle of raw, untamed beauty. Standing before him, she spoke with blades on her tongue. 

"*If I walked away now, no one would follow you.*" 

—

Her words etched at the core of him. It was ignorant- *Blasphemous* To even suggest. To insinuate his worth was tethered to her presence was a notion he deemed preposterous. Having Hera on his arm was a privilege, hardly a necessity. A sardonic grin twisted at his lips as she pressed on, the clouds above them began to grey. 

"My authority rests on *No one's* Shoulders other than my own. With or without you, the men know where to pray." He spat, his words turned sour. He looked down at her, dark hair hanging over tired eyes, his wicked mouth turned down. His last ten words had been stripped bare, with nothing but truth in them. He had built their house on secrets and red wine, he did not know why she begged for any different.
Barbara
Hera tensed as he spoke. They threw such barbed words at one another in tones laced with poison. She remembered what it used to be, eons ago. Free from their father she and Zeus had found one another amidst trauma and glory and pain and hope. They had clung to one another and given eachother strength they didn't possess alone. 
.
It seemed her husband had forgotten that fact. 
.
Hera didn't mind being wrong as much anymore. Years before she would have argued till she was blue in th face, screaming that her ill fortunes must be traced back to him, but instead she simply nodded. 
.
"I apologize. You cause so much pain to me Zeus, I did not think assigning yet another slight to you would carry much weight. You do not care when other actions harm me, what would be one more?" She shook her head and snapped her fingers, a maiden appearing with a robe and two glasses of wine. 
.
She took hers and gestured for Zeus to take his. This was not going to get uglier without it so they both may as well indulge to ease the hardships they brought on one anther. "I hope Persephone is alright, she was always a kind girl. It is good to see a husband protect their wife..." The words didn't hold the same sharpness as her others had, simply longing. 
.
**"My authority rests on no one's shoulders other than my own. With or without you, the men know where to pray."**
.
"Do you truly believe that?" She turned fully to stare at him as if confused in earnest. "Do you honestly believe you got here on your own, that you have kept this throne... On your own?" She shook her head and took a long sip. "Zeus, already Gods turn from you. Where is our son, the God of War? Is he at your side? A faithful leiutenant who will keep the rest in line? Where is Artemis? Who do we have? An army of your bastards?" 
.
"Men may know to pray to you Zeus, but it is not ancient times. Women know where to pray too. I hear those prayers. The ones telling me the Goddess of Marriage deserves a real one! Image matters in t

Hese different times husband, and yours is tarnished gold, even amongst our fellow dieties."
Sabrina
*"I apologize. You cause so much pain to me Zeus, I did not think assigning yet another slight to you would carry much weight."*

Zeus observed Hera, his gaze dull and unmoving. She was an angry storm of a woman, with fury in her eyes and a broken heart he did not know how to mend. Their differences were uncanny, a reflection so precise it reminded him of how they got there. He held no desire for the trials of courtship, nor did he care to mend what he destroyed. He wished to come and go with ease, he did not favor strings attached. All Hera consisted of were strings. The more he tried to smooth her out, the more she ruffled against him. She did not want to be kept, he was sure, she wanted to be loved. 

Now, she spat at him with a displaced anger, one that stirred up everything he had ever done in her chest. He swore he saw it when she looked at him, she was never angry about only one thing. 

With a snap of Hera's fingers, a maiden emerged, bearing wine. He observed her drape the robe over her shoulders, her raven tresses sleek against her neck. Her eyes, weary yet resolute, met his. There was a silent command urging him to accept the offered glass. It was an act of civility, but one he could not yet choke down. He met the gesture with a cold stare, his disapproval etched in the hard line of his mouth, lips downturned in a silent rebuke. He found their proximity to be repugnant, particularly when she was cross. 

Beside him, the maiden stood with an innocent curiosity, the chalice of wine poised on a gleaming slaver. He turned to her, his eyes seething with malice. The words that spilled from him crawled through gritted teeth, "Why do you still stare at me? Leave my sight before you have no chance to." 

—

The woman stared up at him with eyes that grew like saucers, her lips parted in horror. The platter balanced on her palm slipped as she stepped back abruptly, red wine painted the stone beneath them. He observed her frantic retreat, nearly stumbling before she disappeared around the corner. 

Hera began speaking of Persephone's marriage, her voice quivered with longing. She spoke of a connection she dreamt of, and the reality was nauseating. Amidst the crescendo of war's call, she chose *This*, of all battles, to wage. He was wearied beyond words by these conversations. He would not devote another ounce of energy to them, so at first he offered nothing, only an unyielding, vicious glare. 

Until she crossed the line. 

"Do you honestly believe you have kept this throne on your own? Who do we have? An army of your bastards?" 

Her words ignited a flicker of ire in his chest, before it swiftly fanned into a blaze. A flush of heat warmed his cheeks, his jaw clenched as her bitter accusations flew. Overhead, sullen clouds rolled in, thunder growled in the distanced, sending ripples across the water's surface. He wanted to bark back at her, that he knew she was not the reason he stood there. He had an army behind him. She did not keep the crown on his head, *He did.* But, he had to be careful about what he said. He would not push her from him completely, not when next to him was her rightful place. 

A steady rain began as his lips parted, venomous words spat back at her. 

"We are at war, you cannot find better things to cry about? You think turning from me now would fix this? You wish to rally against me, so be it. But you are Queen of Gods as long as I am King. Your childishness is *Disgraceful.* The pillars of Olympus rest on this war, and you whine about issues we have had for eons." 

"I believed you were fierce, once. Now- I do not recognize you."