"I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus
When her body was found (Hey ya)
I'd be the choiceless hope in grief
That drove him underground (Hey ya)
I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee
That made him turn around (Hey ya)
And I'd be the immediate forgiveness
In Eurydice
Imagine being loved by me!"

---

Song: Talk, Hozier

---

XXXVIII - History Pages

One Day Later

---

"Potter!"

Harry whirled to see two seventh year Ravenclaws he vaguely recognised rushing to him, Hermione, and Ron.

They reached him, "Can we talk to you three for a second?"

"About what?"

"The transfer students and the Order of the Phoenix."

...

"So the transfer students are demigods."

"Yes."

"And they need help rescuing one of them."

"Sure."

"And we believe he's being held at the Ministry."

"Correct."

"And you need the Order of the Phoenix's help?"

"Yep."

Ron leaned back in his chair, taking in all the information.

He hadn't studied or learned about Muggles and their strange gods and religions, so he was grateful that Hermione and Harry seemed to know what these two were talking about. But mainly, the redheaded girl was doing all the talking while the other girl sat silently, watching.

Harry looked troubled, and Hermione looked the same, but she seemed much less surprised. It seemed like the pieces had clicked together for her, and she was starting to slowly understand the weight of what they had been told. They gave the location of the Order and promised to send letters ahead of time to its members.

The girls, Amabilia and Ciara, departed and the trio rushed off to dinner. They slid into their seats and ate quickly.

To neither boy's surprise, Hermione dragged them to the library. She poured through the shelves in the "Muggle Literature" section of the library, which was only a few old, dusty, and sparse shelves.

She ran her hands over the books as she looked for the one she needed. Eventually, she muttered a "Found it," and pulled out a tall book with a deep blue cover. They looked around for an empty and secluded spot, and once they found it, stopped their bags and got to work.

Luckily, it was the weekend, so they didn't have to worry about getting homework done immediately. Instead, they poured over the myths, the stories, the poems.

They learned about the Titans, the Primordials, the Gods. The Giants, the Half-Bloods, the monsters. The conquests, the betrayals, the affairs and the rapes. The passion of one love and the burnout of another. They learned of kings and queens, revenge and those who fell ill to it.

They learned about the King of them all and his Wife. The King of the sea, their sister, the goddess of grain. About the man on the obsidian throne, his wife with the flowers in her hair, and the virgin of the hearth. About the twin archers, the wise one, the wrathful. The crippled blacksmith and his unfaithful wife, and her child with his arrows and malice. The mad brewer of wine, and the fleet-footed messenger.

And in the raging fire, a woman smiled and watched.

---

XXXIX - Mythos

---

She approached her brother silently, eyeing his slouched form and trident that pointed up in a harshly straight line. His loose posture didn't fool her, the earthshaker was not pleased.

He had fully intended to find his son, rain hell, remind the wizards that they were specks beneath him. But the power of the ancient laws, laws he had bound himself to over blood and adamite, had stopped him. The howl that had escaped him as the chance to be there for his son was ripped from him would haunt her for a long time.

"Hera," he said, not looking at her. "Sister. What do you want?"

"You know what I have come to talk to you about," She says, straightening her chiton. He looks at her slowly.

"My son is being tortured, and I have been barred from coming to his aid. I do not need your cold council, your silver-tongued words." His hands tighten on his weapon, forged by the Cyclops.

"Do you truly think me that cold, brother?"

"You stole my son from his bed." He rises, walking over to her. "Your pity is worthless." His eyes are twin storms, but Hera does not back down.

"I did what I thought to be best. I will not be chided by you, for you know my actions were necessary and ended with the best results."

"My son fell into Tartarus because of your meddling!"

"Your son fell into Tartarus because of Athena and his love for her child. That was not my choice, and do you not think I would have pulled them from that path if my head had not been split? No child deserves that fate."

His face settles to stone. "You forget, brother, I am the goddess of family. My family was in danger—"

"Family?" He hisses. "Family means nothing to you. Nothing ."

"Do not speak of family to me," She seethes, "When you turn behind your wife's back and sire child after damn child! I have made mistakes with my family, I have, I have! And I regret them, but you, you Poseidon, you only care for the family who has given you the most."

"You love Percy because he made you look even more like a king! Birther of heroes, φέρνοντας ήρωες, that's what you wish to be called." His lip curls.

"I love my son. I love him because I, like you, made mistakes. I love my son because skies dammit, his mother was always working and only the stars know how little love that stupid son of a bitch Gabe Ugliano offered to this poisoned world." His hands shake in front of her, inches away from the cloth of her chiton. Her eyes soften, and he looks away, the tears welling.

"I just want to fix this. I want to be there. I want to make due on my promises, be a good fucking father for once in this miserable existence," He whispers. His voice rises. "I heard them, Chaos, in my head. They are the reason my son is out of my reach!"

He whirls, throwing his powerful body around as the trident leaves his hand and embeds itself in a column. He heaves for breath, shaking. "A hundred laws. We swore over the scythe of Kronos, and with the blood of the sky and earth to uphold a hundred laws. My son is out of my reach because of a hundred laws."

Hera looked away from his shaking form, the ancient pain in her hand from the cut she made all those years ago on the dawn of the third age still there. "We didn't know my brother."

He looks at her, and the haunted look in his eyes she knows she shares. It is one of three things of appearance that binds her and her siblings. The other is the dark locks that come from their parents, and theirs before them, and from Chaos themselves. The other is the gleam of ichor that casts the glow of immortality.

Hera, Zeus, Demeter, Poseidon, Hestia, Hades. Rhea and Kronos. Gaea and Ouranos. Chaos. Gods. Titans. Primordials. Everything and Nothing.

You are too much like your father, my children. Claim your own paths. Mama had said once, long ago. The boys drew lots. Demeter ran to the grass. Hestia to the hearth. Hera longed for her family to be one.

He does not reply, he just returns to his throne, green eyes never leaving the three holes in the column and the thousand spider-web-like cracks that spread from them.