Forgotten memories

Wish?

I'd seen Hera once before, back at the Council of the Gods, but I hadn't really paid much attention to her—except for that pretty accurate, yet painfully hurtful, "bastard" comment. At the time, I'd been surrounded by a bunch of other gods debating whether or not to kill me, so, honestly, it could've been a lot worse.

I didn't remember her looking so... normal. Of course, gods are usually twenty feet tall when they're on Olympus, which makes them look far less approachable, less human. But here, Hera looked like an ordinary mom. She was serving sandwiches and pouring lemonade, her movements calm and precise.

"Grover, dear," she said gently, "use your napkin. Don't just eat it."

"Yes, ma'am," Grover said dutifully.

"Tyson, you're wasting away. Would you like another peanut butter sandwich?"

Tyson stifled a belch. "Yes, nice lady," he replied, eyes bright.

"Queen Hera," Annabeth said, stunned. "I can't believe it. What are you doing here, in the Labyrinth?"

Hera smiled softly. She flicked a single finger, and magically, Annabeth's and Christine's hair combed itself, brushing away all the dirt and grime.

"I came to see you, naturally," the goddess said.

Percy and I exchanged nervous looks. Usually, when the gods show up personally, it's not out of kindness—it's because they want something.

Still, that didn't stop me from digging into a turkey-and-Swiss sandwich with chips and lemonade. I hadn't realized just how hungry I was. Christine edged closer to me than she had in days, probably recalling our last encounter with the goddess. Tyson, meanwhile, was demolishing one peanut butter sandwich after another, and Grover was loving the lemonade, crunching the Styrofoam cup like it was an ice-cream cone.

"I didn't think—" Annabeth hesitated. "Well, I didn't think you liked heroes."

Hera smiled indulgently. "Because of that little spat I had with Hercules? Honestly, I got so much bad press from just that one disagreement."

"Didn't you try to kill him, like, a lot of times?" I asked, eyebrows raised.

Hera waved her hand dismissively. "Water under the bridge, my dear. Besides, he was one of my loving husband's children by another woman. My patience wore thin, I'll admit it. But Zeus and I have had some excellent marriage counseling since then. We've aired our grievances, reached an understanding—especially after that last little incident."

"You mean when he sired Thalia?" Percy guessed, eyes steady on hers. As soon as he said the name, Hera's gaze turned frosty.

"Percy Jackson, isn't it? One of Poseidon's... children," she said, her tone pointed, as if weighing another word. "As I recall, I voted to let you live at the winter solstice. I hope I voted correctly."

She turned back to Annabeth with a sunny, almost gentle smile. "At any rate, I bear you no ill will, my girl. I understand the difficulty of your quest, especially when you're dealing with troublemakers like Janus."

Annabeth lowered her gaze. "Why was he here? He was driving me crazy."

"Trying to," Hera agreed. "You must understand, minor gods like Janus have long been frustrated by the small roles they play in the universe. Some, I fear, harbor little love for Olympus, and could be easily swayed to support the rise of my father."

"Your father?" Percy said, frowning. "Oh, right."

He'd forgotten that Kronos was Hera's father, too, along with being the father of Zeus, Poseidon, and the rest of the eldest Olympians. That made Kronos my great-grandfather... which was weird enough that I shoved the thought aside.