.oOo. Minutes Before .oOo.
While Zeus was busy healing Poseidon and restoring Atlantis to its proper place, the other Olympians were locked in a tense debate over Hera's movements, attempting to devise a strategy to capture her. Meanwhile, Hera herself had found a moment of respite, seeking refuge in a secluded part of the ocean—an underwater cave far from Poseidon's domain, deep within the ancient realm of Oceanus, the primordial Titan of the seas.
Here, the waters were dark and calm, imbued with the ancient power of the Titan who had ruled them long before the Olympians. Hera knew that Poseidon would not dare track her here, and even Apollo, with his far-reaching sight, would struggle to penetrate the protective veil cast by Oceanus's power.
As she rested, Hera gently ran her hand over Charybdis's head, channeling her divine energy to heal the creature. The beast, a formidable force of nature, seemed almost docile under her touch, as if sensing the goddess's determination. Hera's thoughts drifted as she gazed into the dark waters above, memories of her youth spent in these very seas resurfacing. These were the waters where she had once felt safe and happy, nurtured by the kindness of the Titans of the ocean.
"It's almost as if you're here now," she whispered to the silent waters, her voice tinged with nostalgia.
"That's because I am, foolish child," a calm, ancient voice echoed through the cavern.
Startled, Hera leaped to her feet, her eyes widening in surprise. Before her, seated with an air of serene authority, was a figure she hadn't expected to see.
It was an old man, his skin a deep brown-green, like the ancient forests that lined the ocean floor. His white hair flowed gently in the currents, and his well-kept beard gave him a dignified, timeless appearance. He was dressed simply, without the trappings of wealth or power, embodying the very essence of the primordial forces. Yet, the power radiating from him was undeniable—a presence that commanded respect and awe. This was Oceanus, the Titan of the ocean, a force as ancient as the world itself.
"Oceanus," Hera breathed, her voice warm and reverent—a rare emotion in the wake of her rebellion.
"I see you've been causing trouble," Oceanus remarked, his voice carrying a mixture of fondness and mild reproach.
"I suppose so," Hera replied, averting her gaze like a child being gently scolded. In many ways, Oceanus had been like a father to her. After being swallowed by Cronus and later freed by Zeus, Hera had been brought to the safety of Oceanus and his wife, Tethys, during the chaos of the Titanomachy. Here, under their care, she had found a semblance of peace amidst the turmoil.
"It's rare to see you like this. Are you ashamed?" Oceanus asked, his voice gentle, as if probing her thoughts.
"No," Hera responded firmly, lifting her chin with determination. "I believe my actions are justified. I have endured much—torture, suffering, betrayal. I've been a dutiful wife to Zeus, just as Tethys taught me. I've been an effective queen of Olympus and have tried tirelessly to bring about change. I've sacrificed more than anyone knows, yet Zeus has spat on all of that. He has continuously betrayed my trust and belittled my efforts.
"I have done things I am not proud of," Hera continued, her voice tinged with regret. "But I've come to realize that punishing the mortals Zeus beds, or lashing out at the other gods, was never the answer. The foundation of Zeus's rule was never based on respect—not for mortals, not for other gods, and not for their authority.
"That is why his regime is fragile and weak. It stands only through overwhelming power, and that is why such a reign must end. A new era must rise, one built upon respect and strong bonds, both for mortal life and the nature and authority of the gods. A new era must rise where gods take their roles seriously and don't make fools of themselves by challenging mortals or seeking their approval for trivial things," Hera declared, her voice brimming with passion and the resolve of someone who had finally found her true purpose.
Oceanus listened intently, nodding thoughtfully as she spoke. When she finished, he let out a deep sigh, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and pride. "You, Hera, have grown into a fine woman. Had I not been married, I might have taken you as my wife," he said, his tone lightening with a touch of humor, though the truth of his admiration was clear.
"Marriage is sacred and deserves respect," he added, his voice growing more serious.
"Yes, it does," Hera agreed, her voice firm.
Oceanus's expression turned more resolute. "Your words have moved this old man into action," he said, his voice carrying the weight of ages. Hera blinked in surprise, not expecting this response.
"I normally remain neutral in the affairs of gods and mortals alike. But this time, I cannot. The world is in danger, and the current Olympian order is not suitable enough to face the threats that lie ahead. All they have brought to the world is conflict and mismanagement. They have not made things better, only worse. The balance of the world must be restored, and for that to happen, each god must respect his or her own domain, as well as those of others," Oceanus declared, his tone powerful, echoing through the waters.
"You will join me?" Hera asked, hope and gratitude filling her voice.
"Yes," Oceanus affirmed, his gaze steady. "I will help you rise to the throne as queen of the gods, and I will stand by your side. But you must keep your word, Hera. You must lead the world to a balanced and brighter future as the new ruler."
"I swear by the River Styx," Hera vowed, her voice unwavering.
Oceanus's eyes widened slightly as he felt the binding power of the Underworld river wash over Hera, sealing her vow. The strength of her resolve was clear, and a broad smile spread across the Titan's face.
"Oceanus," a soft, yet firm voice called from behind him.
"Yes, dear," Oceanus replied, turning to see a woman of similar age, her gray hair flowing like the silver currents of a mountain stream. Her pale skin and kind, silver-blue eyes radiated warmth and wisdom. This was Tethys, Oceanus's wife, and the Titaness of freshwater and nursing, who had also helped raise Hera.
"Tethys," Hera greeted, her smile genuine as she saw the older woman who had been a mother figure to her.
"Hello, deary. I heard your words to my husband, and I believe in your promise," Tethys said, her voice gentle but firm, the kind of voice that brooked no argument.
"Yes, I meant every word," Hera assured her.
Tethys nodded, her gaze softening. "Good, because my husband will also make an oath to help you," she said, her tone leaving no room for debate.
"Huh?" Oceanus muttered, slightly taken aback by his wife's words.
"Yes, he will swear upon the River Styx to be by your side through all of this, to be your mentor and guide on your path," Tethys continued, her voice carrying the weight of inevitability.
Oceanus sighed, knowing better than to question his wife's wisdom. He turned to Hera, who looked as surprised as he felt.
"Very well," Oceanus said, his voice serious. "I, as the Titan of the ocean, swear upon the River Styx that I, along with my wife Tethys, will stand by your side and guide you toward reshaping the future of Olympus and the world for the better."
The power of the River Styx once again washed over them, binding the Titans to their oath.
"Thank you," Hera said, overwhelming gratitude filling her heart. She hadn't felt such joy in years. "As a token of my gratitude, please accept this," she said, pulling out the golden blood of Poseidon and a golden apple—rare treasures of immense value.
The two Titans looked at the offerings and laughed warmly. "No need for all that," Tethys said, waving a hand dismissively. "You are our child. While we did not bring you into this world, we did raise you. Our support in this endeavor is guaranteed."
Before Hera could respond, Oceanus spoke again, his voice addressing the very shadows around them. "What about you, Nyx? Will you be joining us as well?"
Hera's eyes widened in surprise at his words, and her surprise grew as the shadows around them deepened and began to coalesce into a darker, more tangible form.
"Hera, I have heard your words and your promise," a voice echoed from the shadows, dark and ancient. "As long as in your reign you acknowledge the Primordials and grant them the respect they deserve, I will grant you my assistance. Zeus has disrespected us greatly, and due to our nature, we cannot act overtly. He has taken advantage of that. If you can instill respect into the gods and have them acknowledge our importance, I shall grant you my support," Nyx, the primordial goddess of the night, declared, her presence a dark void, both powerful and mysterious.
"You have my word," Hera responded, recognizing the immense value someone like Nyx could bring to her cause.
"Good. The shadows and darkness are yours to command, along with my wisdom," Nyx's voice echoed, her form shifting within the shadows. "That is my blessing to you," she finished, her presence fading back into the deep darkness from which she emerged.
Hera watched the darkness recede, feeling the weight and power of Nyx's blessing settle over her like a mantle. She knew that with Nyx's support, she had gained an ally of immense power—one who could operate in ways that even Zeus might not anticipate.
Tethys reached out, placing a gentle hand on Hera's shoulder. "You have begun a path that will change the world, Hera. Remember, power is only as strong as the will that wields it. Do not let it corrupt you as it has so many others."
"I won't," Hera promised, her resolve firm. "I've seen what happens when power is used for selfish gain, and I intend to wield it differently."
"Then go forth, child," Oceanus said, his voice filled with pride and a touch of sadness. "The time has come for you to claim what is rightfully yours."
Hera nodded, a sense of purpose surging through her. She could feel the tides of change beginning to move, not just in the physical sense but in the very fabric of the cosmos. With Oceanus and Nyx on her side, her rebellion was no longer just a personal vendetta—it was becoming a movement, a shift in the balance of power that could reshape the world.
With one last look at the two Titans who had cared for her like parents, Hera turned and began to ascend through the dark waters. The cave around her faded as she moved upward, leaving behind the sanctuary where she had found support and strength.
### **.oOo. At the Same Time on Olympus .oOo.**
While Hera was securing the allegiance of Oceanus and Nyx, another significant gathering was taking place on Olympus. The minor gods—those often overlooked or underestimated by the Olympian hierarchy—had convened in one of the lesser halls, away from the grand councils of the more powerful gods.
Among them were Nemesis, the goddess of retribution; Hecate, the goddess of magic and crossroads; and several others who had grown discontented with the current regime. These gods, though not as powerful as the Olympians, held sway over crucial aspects of the world—justice, fate, magic, and more. They were the unseen forces that influenced the lives of mortals and immortals alike.
The air in the hall was thick with tension and anticipation. Almost everyone in Olympus was aware of the seismic shifts occurring, and these minor gods could feel the tremors of change just as acutely as their more powerful counterparts.
Nemesis, her eyes flashing with righteous anger, spoke first. "Zeus's reign has been marked by injustice and hypocrisy. He claims to be the ruler of all, yet he disregards the very principles that uphold the balance of the world. How long must we stand by and watch as he mocks the laws we uphold?"
Hecate, her voice calm but filled with a deep, ancient power, nodded in agreement. "Zeus has grown complacent, and in his complacency, he has allowed the darkness to fester. The balance between light and dark, between order and chaos, has been disrupted. It is time for a change."
Around the room, the other gods murmured their agreement. They had all suffered in one way or another under the current regime—whether through Zeus's neglect, the arrogance of the Olympians, or the rigidity of the existing order. They were gods with grievances, gods who had been overlooked, and they were ready to seize this moment of upheaval to claim their place in the new order.
"We all know what Hera plans to do," Nemesis continued, her voice gaining strength. "She seeks to overthrow Zeus and establish a new pantheon—one where justice, respect, and balance are restored. This is our opportunity. If we align ourselves with Hera, we can help shape the future of Olympus. We can ensure that the new order corrects the mistakes of the past."
Hecate's gaze swept over the assembled gods. "But we must act carefully. Hera's rebellion will be an uphill battle, and there is no guarantee of success. The Olympians will not relinquish their power easily. We must choose the right moment to leave Olympus, to align ourselves with Hera without drawing too much attention."
A god seated in the shadows, Eris, the goddess of strife, spoke up with a sly smile. "Chaos is already brewing, my friends. The Olympians are divided, unsure of whom to trust. If we play our cards right, we can sow discord among them, weakening their unity and making Hera's task easier."
"Indeed," Hecate agreed, her tone contemplative. "But we must also ensure that Hera understands the value of our support. We are not mere tools to be used—we are the guardians of crucial aspects of the world. Our involvement should be seen as a partnership, not subordination."
The gods nodded in agreement, their resolve hardening. Each of them had different motivations—some sought justice, others desired revenge, and still others wished for a more balanced and harmonious order. But they were united in their dissatisfaction with the current state of Olympus and their belief that Hera offered a path to something better.
"We will bide our time," Nemesis declared, her voice ringing with the certainty of fate. "We will wait for the Olympians to turn their focus fully on Hera, and then we will make our move. When the time is right, we will leave this place and join her, bringing with us the power and influence that the Olympians have so carelessly disregarded."
As the meeting drew to a close, the minor gods dispersed, each returning to their domains with a renewed sense of purpose. They knew that the days ahead would be challenging, but they were ready to face them. They had been underestimated for too long, and now, in this time of crisis, they would prove their worth.
.OoO. end of chapter .OoO.