The Mythology Files: Hera

I am Hera.

Don’t pretend like you don’t already know who I am.

Everyone knows who I am.

I am the queen.

Everyone else answers to Zeus. But Zeus… he answers to me.

I know what people say about me. That I’m a jealous, vindictive wife. That I am a vengeful witch.

People should mind their own business.

It’s never a good idea to poke your nose in where it doesn’t belong. Especially when it comes to how I deal with my husband’s… how should I put it? Shortcomings.

And he has a plethora.

As the goddess of marriage and fidelity, his philandering is more than just a broken trust and broken vows. It is a blasphemous offense to my divine nature. I deal with it accordingly.

Case in point.

Io. A mortal woman. I can honestly say I don’t know what he sees in any of them, but Io? Mousy brown hair, dull brown eyes, short and far too tan. And cankles. She had cankles. A hideous creature. She reminded me of a bumbling bovine — and not the sacred kind.

Not that I believe it was Io who started the whole affair. That was definitely Zeus. I know how persistent he can be. When he asked me to marry him I refused. I refused him over and over and over again. He would not give up. But I knew even then he would be unfaithful. He had a wondering eye and already was collecting a harem of immortal wives. Metis, the Titaness, for starters. She is no longer a rival, however. After an unfortunate incident during a shape-shifting game, Metis now resides in Zeus’s head. Forever relegated to advising the king of the gods from within.

Like a tiny little conscience.

Well, I use the term loosely, because either Metis turns the other way when Zeus is slumming it with mortal women, or his thought process bypasses his head altogether. My drachma is on the latter.

Like I said, he’s persistent. After I refused his proposal multiple times, he got creative.

He turned himself into a bird.

You heard me correctly.

The great god Zeus shifted into the form of a bird and hopped around pitifully like he had a broken wing. My intention was to help the bird.

What?

Don’t judge. I felt sorry for the poor little thing.

I scooped it up into my arms and suddenly I wasn’t holding a bird anymore. It was Zeus. And I knew that he would never give up, so I agreed to be his wife. And his queen.

So yes, I know it probably wasn’t Io doing the pursuing. Zeus has always been the pursuer. It’s not new. But I can’t just go around punishing the king of the gods. It undermines both our authority. That leaves the pursuee. Always. And sometimes, I also punish their illegitimate offspring. And to answer your question… I sleep fine. Someone has to suffer the consequences. It is simply the way things are.

Zeus turned Io into a snow white cow in order to hide her from me. Fitting, considering the cankles. But I am very good at playing the game. I insisted he give me the lovely little cow as a gift. He thought he was getting away with something, and he didn’t want to give up his little secret, so he indulged me. I set my personal bodyguard to watch her 24-7. How can anyone do that, you ask?

Argus was no ordinary bodyguard.

He had one hundred eyes spread over his entire body. They were never all closed at once. Never. He was the perfect watchman.

Until Hermes—

I hate to even think about it. The little rat.

You may as well know the story.

Zeus sent Hermes to rescue Io. The coward wouldn’t do it himself. He was too afraid of me finding out about his torrid love affair with cankle-girl. Since Argus was on duty, she wouldn’t be able to escape, and no one would be able to help her. Except Hermes.

He literally bored Argus to death.

With the longest, most pointless, most stupid story ever. It went on and on and on. Argus fell asleep. Every last eye closed. Then Hermes used his wand to make it permanent.

I will never get over that. Argus was my favorite. Ever.

That was just one of a multitude of incidents. Zeus owes me big time.

And I. Never. Forget.

This beauty contest? Should NOT even have happened. Zeus should have just given me the apple and let life go on.

I’m the queen of the Greek gods. No woman — immortal or otherwise — can hold a candle to my power and beauty. And that is a fact. Zeus would never have chosen me as queen otherwise. So why is he hesitating now?

Cowardice. It’s disgusting.

Read more of the story on Wattpad.

The Mythology Files: Athena

I am Athena.

Goddess of wisdom, that’s my official title — though there are a plethora of other subjects that fall under the umbrella of my authority.

War strategy.

Arts and crafts.

Justice.

The list goes on.

I know you’re wondering why I’m here. It’s a fair question. One I have asked myself many times. Ordinarily, I don’t go in for this whole thing. Beauty, drama… the thought alone repulses me. So I understand your confusion. You would think my wisdom should have precluded me from getting involved.

I had a momentary lapse in judgment. That is all. And now I can’t seem to undo it.

I’m sure you’ll find this hard to believe, but I occasionally have fits of temper. I’m not proud of it. In fact, pride is actually my pet peeve, hence the rage.

You’ve heard of spiders? That is an example of my handiwork. True, they are amazing creatures, capable of intricate and beautiful weaving (one of my fortes), but the fact is spiders are a product of my temper… Of course, in that particular case, it was righteous indignation. Most of my fits of temper fall into that category.

Medusa? Yeah, another victim of my indignation. Well, I say victim, but really she brought it on herself. She and Arachne both. Two peas in a hubris-infected pod.

My mother is a Titaness, Metis, the goddess of prudence. She had a momentary lapse in judgment at one point which led to my birth taking place inside my father’s head.

Yes.

You heard me correctly.

In. Side. Zeus’s. Head.

Of course, it hurt him more than it hurt me. I can’t imagine having my head split open by Hephaestus’s axe. But when all was said and done, I emerged from my father’s skull the fully grown goddess you see now.

Zeus has momentary lapses in judgment all the time. None of us are immune. It’s just that with wisdom being my strong suit, you would think I would be a somewhat less susceptible. Discernment is my first nature after all.

Case in point, I’m a virgin.

Before you start jumping to conclusions, understand. That’s by choice.

No matter what anyone tells you, casual sex is an entanglement that offers only trouble and heartache. You can trust me on this one. But in case you need proof, just look at the problems Aphrodite has. And Zeus. It honestly gives me a headache just thinking about it.

It’s not that I’m against love, mind you. I just happen to believe that I deserve a god (or man) who doesn’t make me share him with any other goddess or woman he takes a fancy to.

Until that one comes along, abstinence is the wise choice.

So why do I care who wins the golden apple?

It’s obviously not for the sex appeal. But there is a logical explanation.

I don’t like pride.

You can look at my track record for evidence of that. And when I find it in mortals, I punish them. Severely.

In immortals, pride comes in epic proportions. Unfortunately, I can’t just turn them into insects. If I could, Aphrodite would have been morphed into one of those nasty lovebugs long, long ago. She’s worse than Narcissus. And that is saying something.

Pride makes people, mortal and immortal alike, stupid. And as the goddess of wisdom, stupidity is something I simply cannot abide.

Aphrodite is getting far too big for her britches, to coin a modern phrase. And Hera, well, I know she means well, but this whole I’m the queen prima donna attitude has reached critical mass.

This is why I must win the golden apple. I’m the only one who can absorb the compliment and not have it go straight to my head. I’m doing this for the good of everyone.

The Mythology Files: Eris

I am Eris.

The Spirit of Strife.

Not a goddess, as some of you may have thought. Just a spirit. And as the title implies, my whole goal in life — my entire reason for existing — is to stir up dissension. I would say it makes me happy — a room full of fussing people — but that would be a lie. After all, I am the Spirit of Strife. By definition, I don’t cause happiness for anyone. Including myself.

My main companions are Pain and Panic, also spirits in their own right. You can probably tell just by hearing the names that they aren’t the best company. You would think that our commonalities would make us like peas and carrots. But how can it? I am strife.

The gods and goddesses can’t stand to have my trio around most of the time, though on occasion they’ll tolerate us if it suits their purposes. Except for Ares. He has a soft spot for all three of us. Mostly because his purposes involve starting war where there used to be peace.

Funny how you never hear about the Spirit of Peace. I know I’ve never met her. Whoever she is. I think she likes to keep to herself. I know I would, if I were her.

Regardless if she actually exists, you know she ain’t gonna be beating down the door to meet me. We’d be arch-rivals. And Peace doesn’t want any part of this, let me tell you.

I would win. Plain and simple.

I fight dirty.

And let’s face it. The irony here is if Peace fights with me, I’ve already won.

I know I sound bitter. And probably irritable. You may as well know now, it’s like perma-PMS up in here. A real joy to be me.

You gotta understand how it is.

It’s a nasty job. But somebody has to do it.

But sometimes?

Sometimes…

I wish it could just be somebody else.

~from DISCORD, the Mythology Files (in progress)~

Meet & Greet: Marley Ryan

Marley Ryan

As the daughter of a high-profile Boston businessman, she has lived a charmed life. A charmed life provided for by an over-protective father. In fact, once when she stubbed her toe on a living room coffee table, her father took the offending piece of furniture out in the back yard and chopped it into splinters.

Understandably, Marley is more than a little anxious to get out of the house and live life on her own. She chooses Miami for college... the farthest away on the eastern seaboard she can possibly travel and still be in the country.

Of course, a young woman on her own for the first time is bound to fall into some trouble, whether of her own making or the kind that just happens to find her.

~No Backing Out (in progress)

A to Z: Marley

Marley Ryan poked her head into her father’s private office. “I’m heading out, Dad.” The handful of his associates meeting with him turned to appraise the intrusion.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were in a meeting. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

Her father stood and strode toward her.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he said with a sad smile. “Gentlemen, my daughter. She is heading off to Miami for school.”

A few of them nodded their approval.

“Miami? Can you believe it?” Peter Ryan shook his head with a laugh. “With such a prestigious school as Boston University right in her own backyard, Harvard right down the road?”

The men murmured their agreement.

“Marley, I wish you would reconsider and let me drive you to the airport.” He took her hands in his and met her gaze with those pitiful clear green eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that, Dad. We already talked about it. You’re busy. It’s fine. I’m a big girl now.” She squeezed his hands tenderly and cast a glance over her shoulder toward the door. Why did he have to make this so difficult? She was minutes away from freedom.

The heavy sigh that came from her father made her cringe.

“Don’t worry about me. Oscar will drive me, and I’ve already arranged transportation from the airport to the school when I get there. I promise. I won’t talk to strangers, and I’ll only date full-blooded Irish boys.”

At that he rolled his eyes and released her hands. A low chuckle rumbled from the men in his office.

“Sounds like a bright girl, Mr. Ryan,” one of them said.

“All right, Marley.” Her father put his hand on her shoulder and smiled. “I trust you.”

“It’s all those full-blooded Irish boys who shouldn’t be trusted,” another man added.

Mr. Ryan shot him a look of feigned disgust then turned back to his daughter.

“Go on now, before these old boys change my mind for me.”

Marley wasn’t about to make him tell her again. With maybe a little too much exuberance she stretched up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Okay, bye, Dad! I’ll call you when I get settled.” And then she was out the door, down the steps, and in the car before he could answer her.