I Am Zeus-Chapter 49: To Asgard 1

Hera stood on her balcony for a long time after Zeus left, watching the sky darken with the coming night. The fading gold bled into violet and deep blue, the first stars trembling faintly in the heavens above Olympus. A faint breeze rustled her hair against her cheeks, carrying the last warmth of the day away into the silent evening.

Slowly, a smile curved across her lips.

She turned from the balcony, her crimson robes swirling softly around her ankles as she stepped back into her dim chamber. The burning sandalwood embers pulsed softly in the brazier, casting thin shadows across the gauze curtains drifting from the ceiling.

She clapped her hands once, sharply.

A young servant girl appeared from behind a hanging veil, bowing so deeply her forehead almost touched the marble floor.

"Bring Poseidon to me," Hera said, her voice calm, almost gentle, but edged with quiet command. "Tell him I wish to speak with him in private tonight."

The girl bowed again, her voice trembling as she whispered, "At once, Lady Hera," before hurrying away, her soft sandals pattering against the polished floors as she vanished into the halls.

Hera turned and walked to the long low table near her bed, her bare feet silent against the cold stone. She picked up a small silver bell and rang it lightly. The thin chime floated through the chamber like a shard of moonlight.

Within moments, another servant appeared, this one older, with her greying hair tied back tightly and her robes plain white linen.

"Summon my cohorts," Hera said quietly, not looking at the woman. Her dark eyes were fixed on the flickering brazier flames. "All of them. Tonight."

"Yes, Lady Hera," the woman murmured before backing away into the shadows beyond the doorway.

Hera stood there, feeling the silence settle around her again. The flames of the brazier shifted, burning deeper blue for a moment as a thin coil of jasmine-scented smoke curled towards the ceiling. She reached out and trailed her fingers through it, watching the smoke break and reform around her pale hand.

Her mind was quiet, sharper than it had been in years. Thoughts flickered behind her eyes like quicksilver. Each idea, each memory of slight or betrayal, each moment Zeus had ignored her words for Metis’s soft voice, built itself into her growing plan.

He wants to take me to Asgard, she thought, her lips curving faintly again. He wants to parade me before Odin and Frigg. He wants me to stand beside him... so let him see me for what I truly am.

The bronze doors opened silently behind her, the breeze of their movement stirring the gauze veils hanging across the room. Poseidon entered without bowing, his tall frame filling the doorway. His sea-green hair was tied back loosely, damp strands clinging to the heavy blue and gold robes that draped across his broad shoulders.

"You sent for me, sister," he rumbled, his deep voice quiet but edged with curiosity. His trident was absent, left outside her private chambers as custom demanded.

Hera turned to him, her smile calm and small, like the curve of a blade just before it cuts.

"Yes, brother," she said softly, motioning him forward. "We have much to discuss."

Poseidon stepped closer, his bare feet silent against the marble as he stopped before her. His dark eyes studied her face, reading the careful stillness there, the gleam hidden behind her lashes.

"What is it now?" he asked. "The coronation has passed. Metis is queen. Zeus has made his choice."

"He has," Hera said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But that does not mean she will keep her crown."

Poseidon raised an eyebrow slightly, though his face remained otherwise calm. "And what do you plan, Hera?"

She tilted her head, her dark hair falling like a curtain over one shoulder. "Zeus is taking me with him to Asgard tomorrow at dawn," she said. "He wishes me to stand beside him at the naming ceremony for Odin’s son."

Poseidon’s brow furrowed faintly. "Leaving Metis alone in Olympus."

Hera’s smile widened, slow and sharp as moonlight on black water. "Exactly."

Poseidon exhaled quietly, a faint glimmer of interest flickering in his gaze. "You intend to strike while he is away."

"I intend," Hera said softly, stepping closer to him, her voice dropping to a thin whisper, "to strike when he is not only away... but when he is in a realm that binds his powers in hospitality oaths. Asgard’s rules are ancient and sacred. He will not be able to return swiftly without disrespecting Odin. And Zeus... will never risk his pride for Metis."

Poseidon studied her for a long, silent moment. Outside, the winds of Olympus sighed against the tall bronze windows, rustling the jasmine vines climbing the balcony railings. Finally, he nodded once.

"What do you require of me?" he asked.

"Strength," Hera said. "Authority. When I am gone with Zeus, you will remain here. You will stand as Olympus’s second power. My cohorts will act on my orders, but your presence will ensure order does not collapse into chaos before the deed is done."

Poseidon tilted his head slightly, dark sea-green hair slipping over his broad shoulder. "And what of the other gods? Hestia, Demeter... will they stand aside again?"

"They will," Hera said calmly, her gaze unblinking. "They will weep and pray to Gaia’s silent roots, but they will not move against us. Not if it is swift."

Poseidon grunted softly, a low sound of approval. "Then plan it well, sister."

"I already have," Hera whispered.

The bronze doors opened again, and her cohorts entered silently, shadows drifting across the veiled chamber. Kratos, broad and iron-eyed. Bia, cold and silent. Phobos, his dark lips curling faintly with hidden cruelty. Icelus, his thin robes drifting like dream-mist around him as his pale eyes blinked with heavy slowness.

Hera turned to face them, her crimson robes rippling softly around her ankles.

"When I am gone tomorrow," she said, her voice quiet but edged with unbreakable steel, "you will do what must be done. No mistakes. No hesitation."

Kratos inclined his head deeply. Bia’s eyes flickered with silent obedience. Phobos smiled wider, his teeth white and cold in the dim brazier light. Icelus said nothing, but his pale hands twisted softly in the folds of his robe, dream-mist coiling between his long fingers.

Poseidon stood silently behind Hera, his dark eyes locked on the burning brazier flames. Outside, the last light of day faded into deep indigo. The torches along Olympus’s high halls flickered into life one by one, casting long restless shadows across the silent marble floors.

Hera closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the heavy scent of sandalwood and jasmine around her. When she opened them, her gaze burned dark and cold.

"Tomorrow," she whispered, "we begin."

And far above Olympus, the first stars flickered against the violet sky, silent and watchful as the gods moved beneath them, weaving shadows across a world that would soon bleed with storms no mortal could ever name.

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