The Queen's Curse

four | Longing

longing

The wrinkled coatings straightened when she shifted to her side. Laying down on her back seemed to just keep her awake from the nightmare that had occurred moments before. But every time her eyes closed, she would be reminded of the abuse, ichor, and screams of her biological mother, the Titan Queen.

'No... Please, not our baby girl.'

She would continuously hear as she struggled against his hold on her. The grip that caused the bruising alongside marks that he had placed there days before. Tears would pool up and fall down her cheeks. Though she wished she could scream at her father and beg for him to stop, she refused to show her mother how helpless she looked. Her age may not look much but she was wise for her age. She gazed at her mother who couldn't stop her husband with a reassuring smile plastered on her face. 'I'm alright, Mama.' She mouthed. The struggle stopped as she embraced all of it. 'I love you.'

'No!'

What she didn't expect was to be coddled by darkness and fall into the endless pit of Cronus' stomach, landing into the stomach acid of his. Her powers, thankfully, immediately healed her from the drastic fall but the pain was too much that it consumed her entirely and she lost her consciousness.

Hera gripped onto the sheets of her bed with her eyes wide open. She wanted the screams to stop. Heaving breaths she took but none would stop her chest from shaking, the aftermath of her nightmare. Wishing that someone would wrap their arms around her, a warm body to soothe her nerves. She looked over to the side, at the emptiness the other side retained. Though she was aware that Zeus had not ventured out to the mortal world, he refused to sleep beside her wife when he caused another reason for their dysfunctional union. It was her wish in the earlier years of his infidelity. The scent of another woman would always be all over him and it was sickening. No one blamed Hera. Zeus was aware of how it affected her deeply but he was never aware of how broken she felt when he was around. He respected her wishes and so, he settled on the settee of their chambers, which was only outside those doors right in front of their bed.

The Queen fluidly moved her arms and assisted herself to sit right up. Her ginger locks fell to her face and she brushed them to the back of her ear. Turning to face the curtains, she could see the light of the moon illuminating a portion of the room. Her knees bent upwards, pausing once it reached her chest. Her longing gaze would pause on her left hand as she folded her arms around her legs. The glimmering golden ring reflected most of the light. On the brink of tears, she refused for any of it to fall. She wouldn't give all those who hated her the satisfaction. After all, she was supposed to be the cold-hearted queen, the vengeful goddess. Her main emotion would be hatred and sadness would only be her breaking point, one that can be used against her.

Who was she kidding?

Her teeth clashed against each other as she held it all in. She sensed wind reacting to her emotions as the curtains were lifted into the air. A glimpse of the sky from the outside, there were clouds of different shades of grey. She let out a long breath and a lone golden tear fell from her eyes for the first time in millennia.

Her lips were on the brink of trembling before she bit on them and wiped away the tear that escaped her eyes.

Arising from the mattress, she had not summoned Iris for the time being. The young handmaiden deserved some rest for the night, especially when she has been serving the Queen every single day with no rest. Besides, the Queen needed some time for herself without being disrupted by others.

Hera changed into light satin, a white simple long-sleeved dress that reached her knees. This time she let her wavy hair down, allowing it to flow down her waist. In front of the mirror, she looked so innocent, the cold façade was all gone. A look of longing was evident. A look of exhaustion. Her hazel eyes were dull and they were glistening in the middle of the night. She left her gloves on the table and let her hands-free from the cloth. In case of any emergency, she clasped the compartment of her dagger around her inner thigh. She wore no sandals. The image of her simply reminded her of when she was young before she was queen.