can we do the tank top and shorts for Jacob and Connor please?

wow your writing in the gods and monsters series is amazing! i've always loved greek myths and you bring them to life and add a different twist that makes it better than anything i've ever read about mythology!! if you have time, could you do a continuation of the Hades and Kore story? Kore/Persephone is one of my fav goddesses and i can't wait to see where you take her story!

(continuation of: x, x)

The first time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, sheis reckless and stubborn and feels like she has so little left to lose, only anoverbearing mother she yearns to escape.

The first time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, shefights and swims and survives. She is picked up on the shore and carried tosafety in Hades’s arms.

The second time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, sheis reckless and stubborn and feels like she has everything to lose. She letsthe water take her, and she drowns.

The second time Kore throws herself into the River Styx, itkills her.

~

Kore wakes up after falling unconscious while being carriedby the King of the Underworld. Her skin is fully healed, no longer blisteringand burning. She’s naked under the soft blankets, but she was naked when shedove into the river, so she’s not too worried about it.

“I didn’t know you were a goddess,” someone says, and sheturns her head to see a little girl sitting by her bedside with black skin andgrey eyes and hair. She’s glaring at her, “I wouldn’t have tried to kill you ifI’d known. You shouldn’t touch my water – it’s not good for you. It will killyou. It does not care what you are.”

“It did not kill Achilles,” Kore says, pushing herself up sothe blanket falls to her waist.

The young Lady Styx huffs and gets to her feet, pushing openthe long wardrobe on the other side of the room. “It did, actually. What myriver takes, it keeps.” Kore raises an eyebrow. Styx doesn’t explain further,only places a dark blue gown on the bed. “Hecate put some of her old things inhere for you. She’s taller and thinner than you are. But you are a goddess. Youcan make it work.”

“I can,” Kore agrees, amused. She pushes herself out of bed,and her hair falls into her face.

Her hair has been a dark brown her whole life.

She strides over to the wardrobe and pulls it open, starringat herself in the mirror.

Her hair has turned pure, snowy white. The hair on her headof course, but the rest of it too. Her eyebrows, the light hair on her arms andlegs, going down her navel, the hair between her legs – all of it white.

“You’re lucky nothing worse happened,” Styx scolds. “Myriver usually does much worse than that.”

Kore touches one of her new, pale eyebrows. “That is anexcellent point, Lady Styx.”

With some clever magic, Kore pulls on the now perfectlyfitting gown. Hecate doesn’t tend to bother with them, only dresses up ifthere’s some sort of celebration that requires her attendance – something thathasn’t happened in a long time, ever since she irritated Zeus and Poseidon tothe point that they called for her head on a spike. The gown is old, even bytheir standards, but its beautifully crafted, stars plucked from the heavensand sewn into the bodice, waves from the seven seas curling around the longskirt. “This is very valuable,” she says, “Is Hecate sure she would like me tohave it?”

Styx shrugs, “She said it was a young woman’s dress, andhowever she may look, she’s not a young woman any more. It’s my favorite dressof hers – I was quite cross that she gave it to you, but I did almost kill you.So I suppose that’s fair enough.”

“Ah,” Kore says, not quite sure how to respond to that. “Isee.”

Styx grins at her and grabs her hand. The child goddess’sskin is freezing to the touch, but Kore doesn’t flinch back out of fear ofbeing rude. “Come with me now. Hades wants to see you.”

The girl leads her through the twisting hallways to apolished wooden door. It’s not the throne room, where Kore thought that thegirl would take her. She’s seen the grand inner chambers of Poseidon and Zeus’shomes before, of the lesser gods even, and Kore braces herself for somethingjust as grandiose and intimidating.

Styx opens the door and pushes her inside before vanishing.

Kore blinks and looks around.

The room is smaller than she expected. It’s lined withshelves packed with scrolls, and mounted on the opposite wall is large mapthat’s constantly shifting and changing, and it take her almost a full minuteof looking at it to realize it’s a map of the underworld.

“You’re looking better.”

Kore’s eyes snap down, and it’s only then that she noticesthe figure of Hades, King of the Underworld, hunched over his desk. His hairpulled in messy low ponytail, and there are dark bags under his eyes. He’s in asimple black chiffon, one no more presumptuous than any mortal noble wouldwear. He’s the most unassuming, unremarkable thing in already unassuming,unremarkable room.

Suddenly, she feels over-dressed.

“Thank you,” she says, not knowing what else to say. Shefeels – awkward, almost, in front of him, which isn’t something she’s ever feltwith anyone. She wants to climb into his lap and rest her head against hisshoulder. She wants to force him into some proper clothes for a king. She wantsto put him to bed and make him sleep until he loses those bruises under hiseyes.

She’s never wanted to do any of those things for anyonebefore. She doesn’t even know him.

Although – she knows he came for her. That he found an intruderinto his realm and picked her up and soothed her, carried her to safety andwashed her of the corrosive water of the Styx. He placed her in his palace anddid not touch her as so many other men would have touched her.

So perhaps she does know him. At least a little.

He rests his chin on his hand while he looks at her. “Hermescame with a message from your mother, demanding your return.” She doesn’t evenhave the time to panic before he continues, “I denied her. If she wishes tospeak to me in person, I told her she is welcome to step into my realmherself.”

“She won’t do that,” Kore says, “She fears your realm. Shefears how her power means nothing in your domain.”

Kore had never known her mother to fear anything – exceptthe land of the dead. She’d grown up thinking Hades must be a hulking, formidablefigure to pull fear from her mother’s breast, but that’s clearly not the case.

He smiles, and it’s the first hint of sharpness she’s seenfrom him. “I know. There will be consequences, of course. But those are myconcern. You are a guest of my realm, Goddess of Spring. Walk where you please,and do as you please. No one will stop you.”

He’s already looking back down at his papers, eyebrowsdrawing together as he scratches out a series of numbers and rewrites them.It’s a clear dismissal, but Kore can’t bring herself to move.

She’s never met this man before. Yet he stands against hermother, yet he welcomes her to his realm, yet he permits unrestricted access tohis home, yet he grants her every freedom he’s able.

“Thank you,” she says again. He gives an absent nod, alreadyreaching for another scroll.

She leaves as quietly as she came.

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Right. So. Might be mildly addicted to your 'Gods and Monsters' series. Definitely need an intervention, but I'll prolly ignore that anyway, so... anyway, can you do something with Zeus and Hera? I've always thought it was massively whack that the goddess of fidelity was with --according to Greek mythos--one of the biggest adulterers on Olympus. Definitely smelling a bit of an abusive relationship there, if you catch my drift... okay byeeeee

Hera, the young goddess of marriage and family, is onlyunfaithful to her husband once.

She seduces Zeus first, right as the war ends and they’re allpain and ash and thrumming with the excitement of victory. She smiles just soand touches his bloody chest, her hand pale against the dark copper of his skinand, and when he looks at her his eyes spark with the lightning he so easilycommands. She is named his wife that very night, her body littered with bruisesfrom his rough, eager hands, and she tells herself the bile at the back of herthroat tastes like victory.

She is queen of the gods. This is what she wants.

They’ve all claimed their domains and gone their separate ways,Demeter to the earth, Hades to the underworld, and Hestia to Olympus where theyplan to build their palace. But Poseidon still lingers. “Don’t you have an oceanto conquer?” she asks.

He looks at her, then behind her to where Zeus is busysketching plans for Olympus. “You don’t have to do this,” he says softly, “you –you can come with me if you want. Or I’m sure Hades would take you.”

Hera has no time for Poseidon and his soft heart. “I willonly belong to the best,” she says, tossing her head so her crown of curls fallover her shoulder. “You should go. You have work to do.”

“There are more important things than power,” he saysuncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot.

“No,” she says, “there aren’t.”

~

Hera would not mind Zeus’s women so much if they were notconstantly giving him children, something she has been unable to do.

She is an obedient wife. She does not turn her powersagainst him, and she’s tolerant of his mortals at first, but the longer she isempty of child the less patience she has. How can she be the goddess of familywithout one of her own?

Her spite gets in her way, and she hurls every kind ofobstacle and curse she can at the woman her husband lies with. At first he isangry with her, and bruises litter her throat and wrists. Then, as her wrathand powers grow, he is afraid of her. He watches her warily, sneaking to themortal realm when before he wouldn’t even try to hide it. He submits when shepins him to the bed and rides him hard, desperate for a child of his, desperateto fulfill the perfect image of wife and mother she’s built for herself.

No matter her magic, no matter how many times they lie together,Hera does not get with child.

She goes to Hestia, and her sister presses a hand to herstomach and purses her lips and says, “Must it be his child?”

Hera stares. She’s the goddess of marriage and family. Sheis not capable of infidelity. “I – I can’t.”

“Just once,” Hestia says, “the problem is not with you, norwith him, clearly. Only the combination of you both. Lie with any other man,and you will have your child.”

So Hera, just once, puts on a disguise and goes to themortal realm. She finds a man with skin darker than Zeus’s, a rich warm brownthat matches his soft eyes. She lies with him, and it hurts. He is kind andpatient and kisses the edge of her jaw, her shoulders, her navel. But to beunfaithful grates against her very nature as a goddess, and every moment isagony. He finishes, his mouth whispering kind things against her own, and sheleaves as soon as she can.

It works. She becomes round with child, and is happier thanshe’s been in a long time. She does not mind Zeus’s mortals, and he evenbecomes kinder while the baby grows inside of her. His hands become softer, andhe spends less time away from Olympus.

The baby is born, and Zeus is furious.

The child is too dark to be his, and he tears it from Hera’shands while she lies exhausted from the birth. “What do you care?” she cries,struggling to stand, “You have dozens of children. What does it matter if Ihave one?”

He holds the baby in one hand and grabs her jaw with theother, pulling her to her knees. “You are my wife,” he hisses, “the goddess of marriageand family. You will have my child, or no child at all.”

He throws the baby from Mount Olympus. Hera screams, pushingherself away from him and attempting to jump after it. Zeus catches her aroundthe waist, and with a crackle of power and roar of rage, he sends a lightningbolt after the baby.

The child may have survived the fall, but not the lightning.

“NO!” Hera screeches, clawing at his arm as she struggles toescape his grasp. Normally she’s not this helpless against him, but deliveringher baby has left her weaker than she’s ever been before.

He presses the flat of his hand against her swollen womb,adding pressure until she cries out in pain and tries to squirm away from him. “Mychild,” he repeats, voice low and terrible, “or no child at all.”

He lets her go, and she collapses, grasping out a hand overthe edge of Olympus. But the blood between her thighs is still wet, and she can’tfind the energy to stand. She wonders if she’ll have to crawl down the mountainto retrieve her baby’s corpse.

“Sister!” Soft hands grab her shoulder and gently roll heronto her back. Hestia’s face fills her vision, and Hera has never seen theolder goddess of hearth and fire look so cold. “I’ll kill him,” she says, handshovering over Hera like she’s not sure where to begin. “I’m so sorry. I didn’tthink this would happen, I didn’t think he would – I didn’t think.”

Hera curls on her side until she can place her head in hersister’s lap. She’s not sobbing anymore, she’s never been one to fall intohysterics, but she can’t stop crying, a steady stream of tears drippingsilently down her face. Hestia runs trembling hands through her hair. “Don’t,” shewhispers, “I did this, this is my fault. I – I should have known better.”

Hestia’s hand cup her face, leaning over so she can look herin the eye. “This is not your fault.”

Her sister stands and picks her up in her arms. Hera triesto tell her to put her down, that Zeus will be angry if she leaves, that shedid this to herself. But she falls unconscious before she can get any of itout.

~

Hera awakens someplace soft and warm. She opens her eyes,and she’s inside Hades’s palace. Her confusion lasts only until her memoriescome rushing back, and then she has to bite her lip until it bleeds to stopherself from crying out.

“Hestia brought you here. She’s returned to Olympus to coverfor you both. Do not worry – Zeus doesn’t know where you are.” She turns herhead, and sees the goddess of magic at her side. Hecate smiles, “I have mendedyou, do not worry. All is well.”

All is not well.That statement is so far from true, and her instant urge is to crush Hecate todust for the audacity. Before she can make up her mind one way or the other,there’s a soft knock on the door. It opens to reveal her elder brother. “I havesomething that belongs to you,” he says, and Here focuses on the bundle in thecrook of his elbow.

Her baby’s corpse. She’s relieved someone thought to get it.Her heart feels like lead, and all the control she’d had over her emotions isgone instantly. She hopes they’ll leave her alone to hold the body of her childand weep.

Hades gingerly sits on the edge of the bed, and Hecate risesto help Hera prop herself up so she’s at least sitting. “He’s a strong littlething,” Hades says, and Hera doesn’t understand.

Then a warm, wriggling baby is placed in her arms. He’s gotgreat big eyes and his mouth splits into a toothless grin when he sees her. “He’salive,” she says numbly.

“Not without sacrifice,” Hecate says softly, and reachesover to undo the blanket he’s swaddled in.

Her son has no legs below his knees.

“Zeus’s lightning bolt didn’t kill him, but we cannot returnwhat was lost,” Hades says, pained. “When he’s older, maybe we can dosomething, give him something in place of legs. But for now, there’s nothing Ican do.”

The king of the underworld is the most powerful god afterher husband. Hera knows that, even if Zeus doesn’t. If Hades can’t do anything abouther son’s legs, then no can. But he’s alive, Zeus didn’t manage to kill him,and Hera finds herself so grateful that she’s holding a smiling, living childthat she can’t be anything but relieved. Her son is alive, and happy. He doesn’tneed legs.

“I can’t bring him back to Olympus,” she looks up at them, “Canyou find someone to raise him? Someone you trust?”

She doesn’t trust anyone, so it can’t be her choosing.

“You’re going backto him?” Hecate demands, “Hestia said – but I thought for sure – you don’t haveto! Don’t go back to him!”

“I must,” she holds her son to her chest, and he reaches outwith chubby hands to tug at her hair. “I am the goddess of marriage, and he ismy husband.”

Hecate stares, aghast. “Don’t – don’t, Hera. Please. Stayhere. Hades will protect you.”

She looks up at her brother, and he raises an eyebrow. Hewould protect her, he would put himself in between her and Zeus’s wrath if sheasked him to. But she won’t, and she thinks he knows it. She says, “I am Heraof the Heights, of Argos, of the Mound. I am the cow eyed, white armed goddessof marriage and of family. I am Hera, queen of the gods.” She looks down at herson, and her heart clenches, because for now a title that cannot be afforded toher is that of mother. “I will not abandon my dominion, nor my husband. I willreturn to Mount Olympus.”

“But you don’t love him,” Hecate says helplessly.

Hera stares, baffled that anyone could think her marriage hadanything to do with love. “Of course not. But this isn’t about love. It’s aboutpower.”

The goddess of magic swallows, then says, “I will raise him.”

Even Hades is surprised by that. “Hecate?”

“I will raise him,” she repeats, “He will stay with me, safein the underworld where Zeus cannot find him, until he’s old enough and strongenough to protect himself.”

“Thank you,” Hera says, and lowers her head enough to kissthe top of her son’s head. “Tell him that I’m the one that threw him fromOlympus.” When she looks up, Hades is resigned while Hecate looks on in horror.“Tell him, tell everyone. I gave birth to a hideous son, and I threw him fromOlympus. His legs were crushed in the fall. I did this. Zeus tried to stop me,but could not.”

“Why?” Hecate asks.

Hera smiles down at her son, her heart full with a helplesssort of love. “So that when he ventures from the safety of the underworld, Zeuswill have no reason to hurt him. So that when he comes to Olympus, Zeus will beunable to hurt him without explaininghe was the one that tried to kill him in the first place.” She runs the back ofher finger down his cheek, and he grabs it, his little fist holding onto her. “Blameme, and he will be safe.”

Hecate looks like she wants to argue. Hades puts a hand on hershoulder and asks Hera, “What’s his name?”

Her son smiles, and tugs at her hand, the beginnings of agiggle gurgling in his throat.

“His name is Hephaestus.”

~

When she returns, she no longer has any patience for Zeus’smortals. When before she had only inconvenienced them, now she’s not playingany games. Those that do not die end up wishing they had, and she’s especiallyvindictive to any mortal carrying her husband’s child.

She sits on her throne, waiting, a smirk curled around thecorner of her lips.

Zeus barges in and charges towards her. He’s so angry smokeis rising off his skin. “You,” he hisses, “this is your doing.”

“Whatever do you mean?” she asks, unflinching when he slamshis hands on either side of her head, crushing the back of her throne with theforce of it.

“She and the children are dead,” he snarls, “my children are dead! I know this isyour doing, it reeks of your handiwork.”

Hera slides forward to the edge of her throne, their facesnearly touching, and spreads her legs. He flexes his hands, because even at hismost furious he still wants her. She is his wife and his queen. She banishesher clothing so she’s spread out before him, hair piled high and jewelryglinting around her neck. “What are you going to do about it?”

He kisses her hard enough to bruise, and Hera crosses herlegs around his back, urging him closer. “Why are you doing this?” he hisses,mouthing at her neck, because he hates her even as he loves her, hates herbecause he loves her, and loves her because he hates her.

She waits until he’s inside her to lick the shell of his earand whisper, “My child, or no child at all, husband.”

When he breaks her skin with his teeth, she only laughs.

They do this to each other. Maybe they are meant to betogether.

gods and monsters series part xv

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