What secrets lie hidden beneath the waves in Poseidon’s palace? Zeus’ watchful eye peered through every cloud along the great expanse of his empire. But the light failed in the depths of those waters, and it was as much mystery to him as to the mortals. He was watching that night when Apollo saved Cora from the waves though. He chuckled to himself, thinking of Apollo always so high and mighty. But there he was, chasing the mortal girls, not so different than his father after all. Zeus showed no concern that one of his sons drove a trident through the other earlier that day.

“Where are the nymphs?” Zeus bellowed. “There is packing to be done. I leave tonight.”

The slow, stalking tap of high heels across the marble. The echo spread between the great columns of the palace of Olympus. Zeus knelt by a rushing stream of fresh water. The stream meandered its way through the marble as though naturally carving a path through the millennial. He splashed water on his face, raking his fingers through his thick white beard.

Hera was the only one here. She only rose to the chest of Zeus, but you couldn’t tell for how he cowered at her thunder.

“Where is he? Where is my son?” Hera screams at a normal volume, speaking but for the strain.

“Poseidon is going to his undersea palace. If he expects to sit as King of the Gods from there, I hope he keeps an eye on things above. To be honest, I wanted Apollo to win.”

“How can you act in such a way, thinking only of your horrid trip and your cold throne? I do not mean Poseidon. What has happened to Apollo?”

Zeus shrugged and rose to his considerable height. “Why should I be concerned about the one who lost?”

“You will not leave on your trip without telling me whether Apollo is alright.”

“Of course he is. The sun will sink many times into the sea, always to rise again.”

“Have you spoken to him? How do you know?”

Zeus strode toward the side of the marble hall. Hera circled behind him like a vulture.

“Apollo sees things the rest of us do not. When he sets his mind on something, there’s nothing that can keep it from him.”

“Such nonsense. He has fought in your games for a hundred years for the privilege to sit on that throne. But he gave it away with hardly a fight. Are you telling me he foresaw that end?”

Zeus slapped open a oak wardrobe. He began flinging robes onto the floor. “Nymphs! Where are my nymphs!”

“Do not ignore me, Zeus! You will be rid of me soon enough, but you must answer.”

The King of the Gods chuckled, with an echo of a storm. “I think Apollo knows what he wants. He just chose something else he wanted more than my crown.”

“Impossible. The sun demands glory. It wants nothing more.”

“Except for love, perhaps. Where are my javelins? It seems I will have to prepare on my own. Sometimes I wonder whether those nymphs really serve us, or something else entirely.”

“Do you mean Apollo gave up his chance to be King of the Gods for… for the mortal?” Hera slammed the wardrobe shut, nearly taking one Zeus’ fingers with it.

Zeus shrugged and grinned. “He probably didn’t think you would allow it. Even if he was King.”

“Do you find humor in this tragedy, dear husband?” Hera growled. She began to pace in thought. Her long white robes whipped the air around her into little hurricanes by her feet. “There is nothing funny about Apollo betraying his own kind, and shirking his responsibilities to chase a mortal. You are right, that he would have made a better King. He sees far more of the world than Poseidon, both now and what has yet to pass. You should not have kept the purpose of your journey secret from your sons. If Apollo knew how dangerous it was, then he would not have forsaken us.”

“Be easy on the boy. We do not know what future he sees.”

“Then blame him at least for losing your nymphs. They must be afraid of me, and are now taking in with the mortal. They are serving her no doubt, doting on her and calling her a Goddess. Filthy liars! I shelter them, and they stab me so!”

“Peace, Hera. Be a dear, and find me my javelins. The titan Cronus is difficult to reach without a good throw.”

The clatter of heels on marble floors accelerated. Hera was pacing faster, lost in thought, wringing her hands together. “I cannot let this pass. Not for my family’s sake. I will get rid of the mortal girl, and remind Apollo why you do not love such broken things.”

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“Aren’t you going too far? Let the boy have his fun. He will return when he’s ready.”

“You mind your business, husband, and I will mind mine. Apollo is not so like you, to act on such impulses. It will all be part of a greater plan for him. He will not forgive his brother Poseidon, who he thought cheated to win. And mortals are never satisfied with their power, no matter how little they cling to. Do you not see where this will end?”

“I am not Apollo, I have no prophecies. Only instincts, which I trust.” Zeus was in a closet now. The dark space lit brilliantly with lightning as he searched.

“You do not need to see the future, but only the present clearly! Pay attention to know what will happen!” Hera scolded. “Apollo will not follow Poseidon as King of the Gods. The first order he receives, he will rebel. The mortal will tell Apollo to take the throne for himself. There will be a war between the Gods before you return.”

Zeus poked his head out of the closet. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. Then he nodded.

“I hadn’t considered that. It is a real risk.”

“Then you will help find the mortal before you leave. Or you will worry your entire trip about the chaos you left behind at home.”

Zeus shook his head. “My quest is urgent, and there is no more time for delay.”

“Why is your quest always more urgent than mine?”

The God’s ponderous brow furrowed. “Anyway if you harm the mortal, won’t Apollo’s anger fall on you, instead of Poseidon?”

“So what if he is angry at me? He will respect me. There is no war that will come of it.”

“Are you sure he will forgive you? You are not his mother.” Panic flashed across Zeus’ face the moment he said it. The clatter of Hera’s heels slowed to a dangerous prowl. She stalked toward Zeus, who scrambled away.

“Thank you for reminding me of your last visit with Leto, daughter of the titans. Will you be seeing her again on this trip?”

Zeus shook his head violently.

“Are you asking me to trust you to stick to your business?” Hera asked sweetly. She ran a finger down Zeus’ chest.

Zeus nodded fervently.

“Then if you will not help, then you will at least trust me to attend to mine. You will find your javelins in the hunting lounge.”

Zeus melted with relief. “I will trust you, dear Hera. Do what you think is right. Just do not let there be war while I am gone.”

Hera slid her fingers like claws through Zeus’ hair. She pulled him down to her and kissed him firmly. Zeus wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She was completely swallowed up in his embrace, so small yet so fierce.

“I will miss you. I will be with you. I will watch you. Wherever you go,” Hera whispered in his ear. “You will always return to me.”

“You will always be my Queen.”

That night Hera stood on the edge of the marble cliff. She watched Zeus below in the distance as he steadied his canoe in the water. No nymphs or servants would accompany him. A spark of his eyes as he looked up through the darkness at her. Then he pushed away, drifting into the lake that surrounded mount Olympus. As he sailed smoothly through the water, the clouds bled down from the sky to swirl around him. Soon the clouds were on the water, beneath the boat, gently lifting him into the sky.

Watching his nobility and confidence in his lonely quest made Hera smile. It did not matter who was sitting on the throne of Olympus. She would always be the Queen, always in charge. Poseidon was likely to stay in his under water realm, leaving Olympus to her. She would need to find new servants, now that the nymphs have abandoned her.

Hera waited until Zeus was completely out of sight. Then standing on the cliff edge, she began to sing. The language was strange, the melody haunting. Dark shapes perched hidden along the golden domes of Olympus. Shadows stirred the night to life. One by one, they dropped off the edge and spread wide leathery wings. Red eyes glimmered as they circle overhead.

“Have I not been good to Apollo?” Hera calls to them. “From the line of titans, his ways are not ours. But my harpies will know how to find him. Daughters of titans themselves, of Iapetus and Clymene. You know how to hunt, don’t you pretties?”

Serpentine tails lashed the air. The harpies circled and lowered. One or two made short dives, raking their talons forward as though to slash at Hera. But she would not flinch. She only looked their way, and they would veer aside and circle again.

“I have entertained my husband’s lovers for long enough. I have tried to be patient with his sons. Even catching once Apollo before, I allowed his mortal plaything to live on as a beautiful stag. I was too kind to them, my winged ones. They have not suffered as you have suffered.”

The harpies screeched. The chorus to an infernal song, harsh and discordant. Hera trembled straight down to her spine, although of course she didn’t show it. The harpies can smell fear. It made her smile, knowing that the song which shook her could also rip mortal minds to ruin.

“You will find the mortal girl Cora. The nymphs have run and hidden her somewhere.”

Hera then pulled a great red cloak from the shadows. It was stained with blood, and torn where Poseidon’s trident punctured through. Hera lifted the portion of bloody fabric to her lips, and kissed it. Then rising it into the air, she let the stained fabric swing back and forth as a beacon. The harpies swooped down at it with raking talons. The faces of the women emerged from the darkness, their beady red eyes and crunched features, their long curved noses like pointed beaks.

“Apollo might find her first. You will follow his smell. You will kill the ones who can be killed, and wound the ones who can be slowed. You will follow them over mountains, and oceans, to the bottom of the sea, if that’s what it takes. You will not rest or sleep, but one of you will return each day to tell me what you found.”

The harpies were working themselves into a frenzy. They made a few more dives at the cloth. Sharp talons dug into it, refusing to let go. One of the points pierced Hera’s hand. Crying in shock, she released the cloth into the air. The harpies swarmed in now, a dozen at least. Needle teeth, taloned fingers, ripping and gnashing. The bloody cloak disintegrated in the air, ripped to shreds. Red scraps rained back down around Hera.

“That was not yours to destroy! Get off with you, stupid things!” Hera scolded.

Shrieking, chittering in the same strange language of Hera’s song, the harpies swooped away into the night. Hera gingerly stooped to pick up the shredded pieces of cloak. They were scattered all over the grass, concealed in the dark. But she took her time and collected every piece she could find. Whatever disagreements she may have with Apollo, he was still a God, and that deserved respect. And if he really was dead…

Hera closed her fingers around the shredded fabric, her fist shaking.

Well, Zeus wasn’t here to protect the wretched mortals anymore.