Theseus waited by the door of Zeus’s office wearing the Helm of Darkness. Hypnos, God of Sleep, whom Theseus had plucked from the Underworld during his attack, had taken the form of a colorful bird and was chained to a perch nearby.
Across the room, Hera stood before a row of tall windows overlooking the vast estate she shared with the God of the Sky on Mount Olympus. She was dressed in a silk robe, cinched tight around the waist. She had anointed herself with oils that smelled both sharp and sweet, and when she moved, her skin glistened. She was sure to be an inviting treat for Zeus, who would not see that she was too proud to be beautiful and too severe for seduction, because despite his wandering eye and raging cock, he loved her.
“What is taking so long?” Theseus demanded in frustration.
He checked his watch.
They had been waiting for over an hour, and he was growing impatient. This was only the start of his plan, but its success would determine how the rest of the day—and those following—unfolded.
“You expect Zeus to be mindful of my time?”
“Any man would be mindful of time when sex is on the table,” he said. “Unless, of course, he is not motivated by the promise of your body.”
Theseus noted how the goddess stiffened and glared in his direction, though she could not see him.
“I asked for a meeting,” she said.
“So you thought to lure him with the promise of what? Talk?”
She ignored him, and there was silence in the room.
“Are you certain you can seduce him?”
“Do not mistake my disgust for an inability to execute this plan,” she snapped and returned her gaze to the window. “He is probably off seducing some lowly mortal.”
Her words rang with bitterness, and Theseus found that he did not understand her jealousy. If she did not love her husband, why should she care who he fucked? It was not as if she did not benefit from his power and title, but he did not often understand human emotion, and gods seemed to be more human than even mortals.
It was an attribute Theseus did not possess. The closest thing he had ever felt to passion was violence.
He liked violence, preferred it, and his future would be full of it.
Suddenly, the air in the room felt charged with electricity, and Zeus appeared as quick as a lightning strike, his presence just as thunderous. Though Theseus had a lot of contempt for the God of the Sky, the truth was that his very presence commanded attention. Even Hera could not deny it as she whirled to face him, though she would likely claim she was only playing a role.
“My king,” Hera greeted.
“Hera,” Zeus said, his voice a low rumble. His eyes glittered darkly as they trailed down her robed body, lustful despite the loss of his balls at the hands of the goddess Hecate. “You have not dressed for the day.”
“I have not dressed at all,” she said and let the silk slip from her shoulders, pooling at her feet.
The air in the room became thick and heavy with Zeus’s desire but also his suspicion.
“Why did you summon me?”
“Is it not obvious?” she asked.
He narrowed his eyes. “It is not usual.”
Hera let her eyes drop for a moment, and she took a step forward before meeting his gaze again, almost shyly. “I hoped we might put our differences aside.”
Zeus also stepped closer.
“We have many, Hera,” he said, though his voice had grown quiet—the tone of a lover and not a king. Perhaps that was Zeus’s greatest downfall. At heart, he wished to be a romantic and not a ruler.
“Have we not always overcome?” Hera asked. Now she was so near to Zeus, her breasts brushed his chest.
“This is a trick,” he said.
Hera’s eyes flashed. “Can I not desire my husband?” she asked, her tone hinting at the fury boiling in her blood.
Theseus wondered if her anger would sway him or if it would ruin this moment.
Zeus studied her for a long moment, his eyes falling to her lips.
“I have dreamed of it,” he admitted quietly. “But I can hardly believe it is true.”
“Then touch me,” she said. “And know that I am real.”
Hera reached for his hand and guided it to her breast, where Zeus’s eyes stayed as he squeezed her, pinching her nipple between his fingers. Hera’s breath caught, and she closed her eyes. Her mouth was tight, and her arms went to her sides, fists clenched. They were signs that could be interpreted as desire, and they seemed to satisfy Zeus, who bent his head closer to Hera’s.
“I cannot please you the way I wish,” Zeus said, and she opened her eyes to hold his gaze. “But I can bring you pleasure all the same.”
It took Hera a moment to speak, to gain control over her voice as she managed to lie.
“All that matters is that it is you.”
Zeus kissed her, and his hands sank into her skin as he brought her slick body to his.
When he broke away, he spoke, his mouth close to hers. “You know it has only ever been you,” he said, impassioned. “I have only ever loved you.”
“Shh,” Hera implored. “Do not speak. Love me instead.”
Zeus’s eager mouth closed over hers again before he kissed along her jaw and down her neck. Her fingers tangled into his graying hair as he made his way to her breasts, lapping at the oil coating her skin.
“You taste so good,” he said with a growl.
Like sleep, Theseus hoped, annoyed that this was taking so long. He glanced at Hypnos, who remained on his perch, eyes averted from Hera and Zeus’s painful display of affection.
Had Hypnos given Hera a fake potion? It would be one way to enact revenge.
If something did not happen soon, Theseus would snare Zeus and Hera together. What torture it would be for the Goddess of Marriage to be trapped beneath her husband, who would then know her seduction had only been a scam.
There was a part of him that wanted to witness that aftermath.
Zeus continued his descent, and as he lowered to his knees, Hera turned her head to the ceiling.
“How long does it take?” she asked.
Zeus chuckled, assuming her frustration was borne from ignorance.
“Patience, my pearl,” he said. Hera’s gaze dropped to his, and his expression grew very serious, his eyes shining with a strange light. “I will kneel for no one but you.”
Hera let her hands thread and twist into his hair as he pressed kisses to each of her thighs, his mouth inching closer to her sex.
He groaned, and then his head fell heavily against her legs.
“Zeus?” she asked and then took a step back.
He swayed and then fell to the ground with a hard smack.
“By the gods, that took long enough,” Hera said, snatching her robe from the ground and securing the tie firmly around her waist. “I shall have to bathe in acid to scrub the memory of his touch from my skin.”
She shuddered visibly.
Theseus removed the Helm of Darkness while Hypnos transformed from a chained bird to a chained god.
“If you had used the potion the way I instructed, you would not have had to endure such…torture,” said Hypnos haughtily. “It was meant to be consumed, not licked from your body.”
“I told you,” Hera snapped. “Zeus will not accept food or drink from me.”
“Could it be because the last time you offered him a draught, he woke up in chains?”
“Perhaps he should not wake up at all,” said Hera, glaring down at her sleeping husband.
“As much as I would like to indulge you,” said Theseus, “we need him.”
“You need him,” Hera countered. “I am not trying to win Cronos’s favor.”
“But you are trying to win a war,” said Theseus.
“Yes,” Hera hissed. “And you released the one Titan who has had endless time to dream of all the ways he will take his revenge against the Olympians.”
“Perhaps you should cease considering yourself an Olympian.”
“Do you think that will matter? Cronos does not forget transgressors.”
“A trait you seem to have inherited from him,” said Theseus.
“And you inherited your father’s arrogance,” she countered.
“I did,” he said. “But at least mine is not unfounded.”
He had killed the ophiotaurus and eaten the golden apple. He was now destined to overthrow the gods, and he was invincible.
“Well?” Hypnos snapped. “What now?”
Theseus summoned the net with his magic and laid it on Zeus as if it were a blanket, covering his entire body. It was so finely made and so light, it was hard to believe the mesh could restrain a god.
“He will hang in the sky as he hung me,” said Hera. “Let the Olympians bear witness to his shame.”
For a brief moment, Theseus wondered why he hadn’t considered trapping her and Zeus. He was under no grand illusion. He knew the goddess had only allied with him in the hope of overthrowing Zeus and taking the throne for herself.
What she failed to understand was that the future of the world did not include Olympians.
“Only Olympians?” Theseus questioned.
Hera stiffened. “The mortal public cannot know. They will question our power.”
“They already question your power,” said Theseus. “And now they will know you can be defeated.”
Hera’s mouth tightened, but Theseus held her gaze.
“The lightning bolt, Hera,” Theseus said. “Bring it.”
She did not move.
As he stared at her, four of his men entered the study, all demigods of varying parentage. Two dragged Zeus away, and two dragged Hypnos forward.
“Release me!” Hypnos snapped, struggling in their grasp, but Damian and Sandros, the sons of Thetis and Zeus, maintained their hold.
The god glared at Theseus.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“Use you,” said Theseus as a blade materialized in his hand. He jabbed it into the god’s neck. Blood gushed from the wound, bathing Theseus in a spray of crimson. Hypnos’s eyes went wide, and he gave a few gurgling breaths as he fell to his knees, his white wings spread wide before he tipped forward and landed on his front.
He did not move again.
Theseus looked at Hera.
The goddess had yet to witness the effects of the Hydra’s venom or the power of his weapons firsthand.
He was satisfied with the fear in her expression.
“The lightning bolt, Hera,” he said again.
This time, she did not hesitate.
