She was not wrong, and though no god was particularly innocent, Zeus was probably the hardest on humanity.
“I’m well aware of yours as well,” Hades replied.
Hera’s mouth hardened and her voice shook as she spoke. “I have reason. You know I do.”
“Call it what it is, Hera—revenge.”
Her fist clenched at her side. “As if you haven’t sought revenge.”
“I was not passing judgment,” he said and, after a moment, prompted, “Why have you come?”
She stared at him, and Hades remembered that he did not like Hera’s eyes. It was easy to forget as she was often with Zeus, and when he was by her side, she presented herself as being uninterested and almost aloof, but being the center of her attention meant feeling the stab of her gaze.
“I have come to obtain your allegiance,” she said. “I wish to overthrow Zeus.”
He was not so surprised by her statement. This was not the first time Hera had attempted to dethrone Zeus. In fact, she had tried it twice and had managed to enlist the help of other gods—Apollo, Poseidon, and even Athena, and of the three, only one had managed to escape Zeus’s wrath once he was free.
“No.”
His answer was automatic, but he did not have to think long about this decision. Hades disliked Zeus’s tyranny just as much as the next god, but he knew Hera’s intentions, and he’d rather his erratic brother have the throne than her.
“You would decline, knowing his crimes?”
“Hera—”
“Don’t defend him,” she snapped.
He had not intended to defend Zeus, but the reality was, Zeus was only king because they had drawn lots. He had no greater power than either Hades or Poseidon.
“You’ve tried this before and failed. What makes you think this time will be any different?” Hades asked because he was truly curious. Had Hera come into possession of some kind of weapon or alliance she believed would change the course of fate?
Instead of answering, she said, “So you are afraid.”
Hades gritted his teeth. Zeus was the last person in the cosmos Hades feared. He was merely cautious. There was a difference.
“You want my help?” Hades asked. “Then answer the question.”
A bitter smile spread across her face. “You seem to think you have a choice, yet I hold your future in my hands.”
Hades narrowed his eyes. He did not need to ask what she meant. Hera also had the ability to bless and curse marriages. If she wanted to, she could ensure that he never married Persephone.
“Perhaps I will find reason to side with Demeter. I am the Goddess of Women, you know.”
While many had known that Demeter had a daughter, she had kept her identity a secret, which meant that few gods knew of Persephone’s divinity. The most recent exception was Zeus—and, by default, Hera—when Demeter had gone to him to demand the return of her daughter. Zeus, however, was not interested in opposing the Fates and had refused.
“If you wish to embody that role, then you’d do well to listen to Persephone herself and not her conniving mother. Do not fuck with me, Hera. It will not end well.”
She offered a bark of laughter, her chin dipping so that she glared back at him. “Is that your answer?”
“I will not help you overthrow Zeus,” Hades repeated.
He would not do anything on anyone else’s terms. Overthrowing Zeus was far more complicated than gaining alliances. The God of Thunder was always looking for hints of rebellion, consulting prophecies and moving pieces to prevent the conception of someone far more powerful than himself. It was perhaps the plight of being a conqueror—a fear of the cycle repeating as it had with the Titans and the Primordials. Zeus feared ending up like their father, Cronos, and their grandfather, Uranus.
Hades had no doubt that eventually the tides would turn and the Fates would weave new rulers—a fact that would make the Olympians a target. He’d already suspected Theseus, his demigod nephew, of making such plans, though he did not know the extent. Theseus led Triad, an organization that rejected the influence and interference of the gods. Ironic, considering Hades was certain Theseus hoped to obtain full divinity, or at least equivalent power.
“Then this will not end well for either of us,” Hera replied.
They stared at each other, a quiet tension building.
“If you will not help me overthrow Zeus, then you shall have to earn your right to marry Persephone.”
Hades’s fingers curled into his palms.
“This is not about Persephone,” he said, the words slipping between his teeth.
“This is the game, Hades, and all gods play it. I asked for your aid and you declined, so I shall seek retribution all the same.”
She spoke as if this were mere business, but Hades knew Hera, and her threats were not idle. The goddess would do just about anything to ensure she got her way, which meant she was not above hurting Persephone.
“If you touch her—”
“I will not approach her if you do as I say,” she said, then tapped her chin, eyeing Hades from head to toe. “Now, how best to earn the right to marry your beloved Persephone.”
Her musing made Hades cringe. Clearly her intention was to wound. She knew Hades wished to marry Persephone just as much as she knew he felt unworthy of such a gift. This was as much a punishment as it was entertainment for the goddess.
“Ah! I have it,” she said at last. “I shall assign you to twelve labors. Your…completion of each one will show me just how devoted you are to Persephone.”
“Pity Zeus never had to do this for you,” Hades replied tightly.
It was the wrong thing to say—and hateful, he had to admit. Hades despised how Hera had come to be wed to his brother. It had been through deception and shame, and Hades’s words had only brought those memories to the surface, causing Hera to go pale with rage.
“Kill Briareus,” she sneered. “That is your first task.”
Hades could barely breathe hearing her words.
Briareus was one of three Hecatoncheires, unique in his appearance, as he had one hundred arms and fifty heads. The last time Hera had tried to overthrow Zeus, it was Briareus who freed him, earning Hera’s wrath, so while it was no surprise that she would seek her revenge, to execute him through Hades’s hands was another thing entirely.
Hades liked Briareus and his brothers. They had been allies during the Titanomachy and ultimately were the reason the Olympian gods had been able to overthrow the Titans. They deserved the gods’ reverence, not their blades.