33. Uneasy Premonition -1-
Even after the Gigantomachia ended and Olympus truly became the center of the world, the place hadn't changed much at all. In other words, the gods spent their days stacking up ambrosia and nectar for endless feasts, chatting about mortal affairs whenever the whim struck them mid-revelry, only to plunge back into drunken binges. Then the beautiful goddess of youth, Hebe, and her attendants would haul in fresh supplies of nectar and ambrosia, and the cycle would repeat.
At first, Heracles had been fascinated by the ambrosia and nectar, but soon enough, he lost his appetite for the food and drink.
"What's wrong, Lord Heracles? Doesn't the food suit your taste?"
"Oh, no, Hebe. I just need a little break."
"Understood. Just let me know if you feel like some nectar or ambrosia, okay?"
"Yeah, I will."
Whenever Heracles pulled away from the endless ambrosia and nectar—unsure how much longer he'd have to force it down—Hebe would rush over with worried eyes, asking what was wrong. The sight of this young beauty with big eyes and brown hair just like Hera's, brimming with concern, always stirred guilt in Heracles. But he couldn't exactly stuff himself sick on command.
In the end, after enduring the feast for days on end with no end in sight, Heracles couldn't take it anymore and went looking for his wives. Today, unusually, Adamantia and the others were there too. They weren't in the palace hall where the banquet raged.
"Ah, there you are."
"Finally came out, huh? You're later than I expected."
"...You're the weird one. Guess the ambrosia suits you after all."
"Nah, Hebe kept fretting so much I had no choice."
"You like that goddess?"
"Not like that."
Heracles' wives had long since bailed on the tiresome banquet and were basking in the sunlight outside. They treated Heracles—who'd stuck it out this long—like the odd one out. They'd grown utterly sick of Olympus' endless partying since early evening. Now they were even misreading things, thinking he fancied Hebe.
"It's not like that. When she asks with those teary eyes why I'm not eating, what am I supposed to do?"
"Isn't that what people call 'liking' someone?"
"No, it's different. This is guilt."
"Hebe's eyes do take after Hera's perfectly. That's why Zeus fell for them and married her."
"Really?"
Heracles' three wives—Adamantia, Gaia, and Echidna—teased him for bringing up Hebe, but they weren't seriously worried he'd fallen for her. Even if he had, it wouldn't be strange. Their mood was serene as ever. These three stunning goddesses were completely smitten with Heracles' habit of consulting them on everything and respecting their views. They had zero doubts about him now, reveling in the rare privilege of being his only ones in all Achaia.
Such a precious husband was their greatest privilege, no matter what anyone said.
"But it's weird Father still hasn't handed out rewards for the Gigantomachia."
"What, you were still waiting for that?"
"...What do you mean, Echidna? Adamantia and I came here for that."
"......I don't really care about that, Heracles."
"R-Really? So I'm the only one waiting for a reward?"
"Looks that way, Heracles."
Heracles hadn't realized it, but Adamantia—who'd fought alongside him—had no expectations for any reward. She lacked for nothing anyway, but more than that, she hadn't even considered Zeus giving her one. Heracles, however—the son of Zeus who knew the "proper" history of his own ascension—was the only one still anticipating it. Days passed with no sign, leaving him in a bind. Meanwhile, Echidna and Gaia just found their husband's naivety adorable and chuckled.
"When are you gonna believe us? Zeus won't give you jack."
"If he gives anything, it'll be Hebe throwing herself at you—that's your 'reward.'"
"What kind of reward is that? Ambrosia?"
"Sigh, you think? Sometimes you act like such a kid."
Echidna sighed, scolding her oblivious husband. He wasn't clueless about sex—he could be plenty passionate when it counted—but on stuff like this, he was hopeless.
"Zeus is probably just waiting for you to pounce on Hebe."
"...What? Why would I pounce on Hebe? You think he wants us to get married or something?"
"That's probably it. If you make a move, he'll just shrug it off as your reward."
"I agree. He's sending her your way on purpose."
"......"
Heracles shuddered at the thought. He had zero interest in forcing himself on a woman he felt nothing for, and the idea of a shotgun marriage like that was even worse. Already wracked with guilt over his golden-arrow-fueled haze of a wedding, he resolved to keep his lower half in check from now on. But Gaia just smiled softly, finding her husband's innocence endearing.
"From what I saw, Hebe's eyes were all misty with affection for you, dear."
"Gaia, you're not saying she wants me to make a move, are you?"
"No, not that. It's just funny how she drops hints and you miss them entirely."
"I've got three wives already—what, should I go after Hebe too? That'd be wrong."
Hebe was, of course, the stunning goddess of youth, a dead ringer for young Hera. But that only made her more untouchable. Honestly, Heracles already felt overwhelmed by his three wives. Once married, keeping up with these great goddesses was no small feat. Even after battling countless gigantes in the Gigantomachia, they remained utterly calm. It was bizarre how unfazed they were, despite slaying so many of their own children and siblings.
"...From that look in your eyes, you're still dwelling on the fight with the gigantes?"
"No, it's just your silence bugs me. You sure you're okay?"
"We're fine, dear. If we'd lost the war, Zeus would've killed us all anyway. We're alive and well. We've got plans for what's next—it's safe."
"I'm good too. Those guys were too noisy; a good thrashing was overdue."
"I went easy on them this time. No need to worry."
Adamantia's last words were ruthlessly cold—enough to make Eurymedon and countless other gigantes wail in vengeful fury—but the parties in question weren't here. Heracles did feel a chill at the gruesome fates so many males had met, but in the end, it was their business. Pitying outsiders forever was exhausting. And he had his own worries.
"Honestly, I'm uneasy too. If he thinks he'll just let it slide, he's dead wrong."
"What, from that sleazy look like he wants to pawn off Hebe? Guess she's the 'reward.' But you're not marrying her, right?"
"If it were a proper proposal, maybe, but this? Hell no."
"I'd call this plenty proper. Oh well, if you hate it, nothing to be done."
Echidna tilted her head at her husband's boundary-breaking words—again. In worldly terms, parents subtly parading their daughter before a man counted as a solid match. Parents who didn't cherish their daughters might even shove them into a decent home for a "good son-in-law," no questions asked. If the man had some power, the woman might end up paying her own dowry after being taken. Gods wouldn't go that far, but Zeus must be getting impatient by now. Echidna secretly pitied the petty king of the gods a bit.
"If you're really not interested, quietly tip off Hera. She must be burning up inside by now."
"......Got it, Gaia."
Gaia, knowing Hebe was Hera's most treasured daughter, offered the perfect way to refuse. Her lifetime of "experience" with men made her the ideal advisor for Heracles, who was oddly naive about the world. Of course, she'd never guess the real reason.
"But if you turn down Hebe, Zeus'll pretend it never happened. Better to demand something now."
"Echidna's right, dear. Deciding your own reward is an option."
"...Choose my own reward, huh."
At this point, Heracles saw no clean way to wrap things up nicely. Echidna and Adamantia urged him to name his price to Zeus, but he already had everything he wanted. Nothing came to mind. And deep down, a chill unease crept in: whatever he asked for, it wouldn't end well.
His wives felt the same, even if unspoken. Their one shared thought was:
"I want to go home."
As a war's finale, it was an anticlimactic sentiment. But they couldn't help it—they were exhausted.