Her name was Adiya. The moment she stepped foot upon Olympus Hera loathed her. She hated how everyone welcomed the pathetic girl with a smile and a charming word. She hated the way everyone looked at her the way Hermes and Apollo looked at each other during their outings together. She hated seeing Zeus take her hand and have the audacity to show her off to Olympus.

She watched it all from her throne. Not once saying a word or moving from her seat. She scowled at the girl. Her eyes, burning through the girl's sunny hair and burnt skin. Her fingers, twitching every time the girl's vibrant ocean eyes met Zeus' stormy ones. Her lip curled everytime she let loose one of her blinding smiles from those pink, youthful lips. Her mind becoming more and more blind with rage every time the girl moved from one place to another as if dancing. Her lilac dress danced with her while the cherry belt around her waist grabbed on tightly, refusing to let go of her curves.

Before the wench even set foot inside the throne room Hera had been judging her. She watched through the window as Zeus flaunted his latest catch. Hera scoffed, watching the mortal step through rocks, or anything potentially harmful to her legs, because despite being barefoot her feet remained smooth and untarnished. She was beautiful. Perhaps the most by far of all of Zeus' conquests.

A low growl rose from her throat as Ganymede approached her with a goblet of wine. She downed the cup in one swing and sh over it back into his hand, continuing her observation. Ganymede had followed her eye out the window and rose his brows. He stepped away from the Chambers, disappearing into the kitchen. That's when the throne room doors opened.

Once the show was done, Zeus finally seemed to notice his wife on her throne with a gaze that would turn Medusa to stone. Adiya turned to Hera as well and the two women shared a tense stare off. The other gods in the room had gone silent. They gave the women their space and just when the tension became thick enough that no other strip of air was left in the room; Hera stood.
They watched in abeyance as the queen of the gods made her way from her throne to the girl's direction; her chocolate hair bouncing behind her.

Adiya couldn't look away. Hera was beautiful in her rage. Her large, brown eyes giving her such a glare it sent shivers down her spine and her fair skin matched nicely with the basil dress, its skirt fluttering angrily. A brown, leather belt clung to her waist outlining the goddess's curves while also trapping the skirt's unbridled rage.

She moved like a river, finding its way to the ocean; and like every other god, Adiya stared at the queen intently. Bile rose in her throat. She was scared, yet struck with awe for the woman before her. She who held her head high and her golden crown even higher; walked right by her.

Not a second glance or a snide remark. Not a scoff or swat. Not a curse nor any breath escaped her plump lips. She walked past Zeus and his new conquest and left the chamber without another word.

Once she was gone, oxygen made itself present in the room. And if anyone with common sense knew what would happen next. They'd say that Tartarus itself had been brought up from the deepest pit of Hades and been set upon Olympus, the new home for the mistress of Zeus, and the bane of Hera.

~o0o~

A year had come and gone and Zeus' little stunt was still the talk of the century. It seemed to Hera that everywhere she turned some immortal was talking about the little whore.

"Oh isn't she just wonderful?"

"Isn't she gorgeous?"

"How generous!"

"How humble!"

"How kind!"

"How hot!"

And everywhere she turned she could hear the slight hiss of whispers from those same busybodies.

"Looks like Hera's gotta share her bed with two people now, but I mean. When hasn't she?"

"Does she sleep on her couch when they're fucking?"

"I wonder what she'll do to this one?"

"Think Zeus has forgotten about her yet?"

"Adiya to Hera? Adiya any day. At least she knows what comes out of an ass."

And everyday it was the same thing. The only place she'd get any rest from the constant slander was the mortal world. She favored Russia. She'd often go during winter when the snow would pile up around her and she could relish in the biting embrace of the blanket around her. And when it wasn't snowing, she liked visiting Saint Petersburg just to watch the gondolas peacefully float down the rivers. Sometimes she'd go and visit the Moscow cathedral and admire its bright colors or go and gawk at the Moscow palace in all its elegance.

But when she just wanted to lighten her mood and forget her miserable life on Olympus she would visit Krasnodar and sit in the middle of the sunflower fields taking in the joyful yellow color of the petals and admiring the plants' habit of always following the sun. Something she wished she could have done long ago before Zeus had forced away her maidenhood.

He'd done so many things to her throughout the years. So many unimaginable things that it was too painful for her to mention. And yet, she always stood by his side.

She'd endured beatings, infidelity, rape, and humiliation. She'd endured the pain of Zeus pining after his own daughters and her being beaten for defending them. She did what she could to protect Ares from his father's fist.

And what was her reward?

The permanent residence of another one of Zeus' harlots in her own home.

Enough was enough.

She would make an example of this wench. And the torment she would bring on this bitch would make everything else she had ever done acceptable.

She would get her revenge. Even if she had to rip her own heart out for it.