Hephaestus & Nike

In the Beginning

The baby can feel everyone's gaze. It's vision is still swimming but she does not cry out. She is comfortable in the warm golden glow of her family around her.

"Athena." This is the first word that the happy baby hears. It is her name. The baby gurgles and kicks her feet which solicits murmurs from the crowd of onlookers. Conversation continues around her but she is focused on the presence directly in front of her. He is a large man and reaches his finger out to her. She accepts it and curls her fist around it. It is her father, Zeus.

The warm moment is short lived however because just as everyone is relaxing into a peaceful lull, the large golden towers are thrown open. It is Hera, the wife of Zeus, but not the mother of Athena.

"What is going on?" Her voice is thunderous. She is not a small woman and her presence commands attention. She storms to the center of the room where Zeus and his baby are.

"Hera." Zeus says, his tone is threatening, he does not want a scene. The circle of gods and goddesses widens to allow them more room.

At first Hera watches Zeus, and then her gaze turns to the small figure lying in the golden bassinet. Hera takes two silent steps in the baby's direction. The baby gurgles again and reaches for the queen of the gods. Here's hand flies to her mouth in shock.

"Hera-" Zeus says again, he doesn't like her touching his baby. Hera pulls her finger from the baby's grasp and places her hand on Zeus's chest.

"How could you?" She asks weakly. "How could you?" This time she bellows, her hands ball into fists. She stomps angrily out of the room.

Her footsteps echo throughout the palace as she searches for a place to hide from all of those who would mock her for her husband's indiscretion. She stops in one of the many courtyards inside the palace, and she sinks down to the ground resting against a marble pillar. Sunshine filters in and Hera curses the weather for being so beautiful on such a terrible day. She rests her elbows on her knees and puts her head into her hands. Her robe falls open and she weeps.

A breeze rustles her robe and tickles her thigh, and then idea comes to her.