Hebe descended personally to the shores of Samos. With a wave of her hand, she parted the curtain of Polar Lights. Standing upon the sapphire-blue surface of the Aegean Sea was the bright-eyed goddess, her form radiating an intellectual grace as the gentle waves lapped at her feet and dampened the hem of her skirts.
Rarely seen without her panoply of war, Athena had traded her armor for a pale blue chiton. She wore a crown of olive leaves, and a golden snake-shaped necklace coiled around her slender throat. True to her nature as the Goddess of Arts and Crafts, she had highlighted her beauty with effortless, sophisticated elegance. It was a poised, dignified allure that surely haunted the dreams of many gods on Olympus.
Yet today, this vision was for Hebe's eyes alone.
"Lady Athena, Goddess of Reason and Wisdom—welcome to Samos," Hebe said with a smile, greeting her half-sister.
"Lady Hebe," Athena replied, her expression softening as she watched Hebe approach. "I heard you had established your own domain in the mortal realm. Recalling our time working together, I thought it only proper to offer my congratulations."
With a flicker of divine light, magnificent textiles and exquisite jewelry manifested in her hands. "I crafted these myself during my leisure hours. I hope they are to your liking."
The work of the Goddess of Craft was, naturally, beyond reproach. Hebe mused that Athena could easily condense a Godhead of Beauty for herself—one specifically for the beauty of objects. However, it was clear the goddess cared little for such trifles; her focus remained fixed on her Wisdom and War Godheads, the true anchors of her power.
"Extraordinary craftsmanship," Hebe praised as she took the gifts. "Aside from my brother Hephaestus, I doubt any hand on the mountain could rival your skill."
At the mention of Hephaestus, a flicker of discomfort crossed Athena's face.
Remembering the recent blunder at the banquet—where a love-struck Hephaestus had publicly pursued Athena—Hebe felt a flush of embarrassment. "Forgive me, I forgot..."
"Think nothing of it," Athena laughed, her composure returning instantly. "It was a mere misunderstanding. Lord Hephaestus presented me with a divine artifact as an apology after the fact. Let us speak of it no more."
"That is good to hear," Hebe nodded, feeling relieved. Greek gods were not known for their large hearts; had Athena felt truly slighted, Hephaestus would have had to endure her retribution without a leg to stand on.
"The shore is ill-suited for a proper conversation. Pray, join me in my temple." Hebe formally invited her guest onto the island. The sea was the territory of the Sea King, whose spies—fish, crustaceans, and spirits alike—were everywhere. It wouldn't do for the wrong ears to catch their discourse.
"I would be honored," Athena agreed.
The two goddesses walked together onto Samos. Behind them, the Polar Lights closed once more, sealing the Sanctuary away from the world.
Athena surveyed the lush landscape and the joyous, carefree Nymphs. She let out a quiet sigh of admiration. Hera certainly pampers her, she thought. To gift such a prime location so casually.
They arrived at the central hall. Nymphs fluttered their translucent wings, bringing gold platters of island-grown fruits and jars of fragrant wine. They poured the nectar into golden cups, bowed, and withdrew.
Athena took a sip. A complex flavor—sweetness tempered by a subtle, sharp spice—bloomed on her palate, carrying a hint of osmanthus. A surge of ease and carefree freedom washed over her, leaving her visibly enchanted.
"This vintage is remarkable, Lady Hebe. It has more character even than the nectar from the King's Horn of Plenty," Athena noted.
"The Nymphs gather laurel blossoms and mix them with water from the Fountain of Youth," Hebe explained with a smile. "The floral notes and sweet finish are better suited for a goddess's palate. If you like it, I'll have the Nymphs pack several jars for you to take back."
"I see. No wonder I feel such a rush of vitality. Now that you are the Sovereign of the Cycle, wine brewed from the Fountain of Youth is a rare treasure indeed."
Hebe refilled Athena's cup and got straight to the point. "Lady Athena, you aren't at our father's side on the mountain? Won't he take issue with you visiting me here?"
Zeus's attitude toward Athena was perpetually ambiguous. He appeared to prize her above all his children—his "personally birthed" daughter—yet he never granted her true, practical authority. He had labored to secure the Sun and Moon for Leto's twins, yet for Athena, her Wisdom was an inheritance from her mother, and her War mandate was something she had to forge herself—earning Hera's enmity in the process.
Instead, Zeus had burdened her with mandates like weaving, arts, and gardening—titles that sounded prestigious but, in practice, made her little more than a glorified Muse. In combat, they offered zero utility.
He fears her more than he loves her, Hebe mused. Had Athena not sworn a vow of virginity, Hebe suspected Zeus would have tried to split her essence by forcing her to bear a child.
"Heh," Athena set down her cup, her smile turning thin. "Our Great Father was 'accidentally' struck by one of the Little Love-God's arrows. He is currently on the earth, pursuing his latest 'true love.' He has no time to worry about my whereabouts."
Hebe arched an eyebrow. "You speak so candidly... are you not afraid I might report this to my mother?"
"You jest, My Lady. I doubt anyone in this world desires for our Father to betray the Queen more than you do. Each infidelity is another lesson for Her Majesty to recognize the truth and leave the King's side."
Athena was indeed the Goddess of Wisdom. Her observations were surgical. She had noted at the banquet that the marriage bond between Hephaestus and Aphrodite had been severed—right after they left the Queen's temple.
She had deduced that Hera had achieved an evolution in her understanding of marriage, gaining the power to dissolve bonds. If so, Hera only needed to leave Zeus to stop the backlash of her own Godhead. Athena knew Hebe's devotion to her mother was not without purpose; the girl's protection and respect for the Queen proved she was worthy of the favor she received.
"..."
Hebe didn't deny it. She was counting the days until Zeus finished his twelve cursed romances and his potential plummeted—at which point she would happily provide the boot to his backside.
The power of the Cycle radiated from Hebe, sealing the temple and cutting off all sound and sight from the outside.
"Lady Athena, we are isolated. No one can hear us. Speak plainly. I do not believe you traveled all this way just for a social call."
"You are as sharp as they say," Athena replied, her expression turning somber. "I have come to seek a partnership. But before I begin, I must ask you to swear an oath with me: that what is said here today shall never leave these walls."
"...I agree."
Both goddesses swore by the River Styx, binding their words in an inviolable pact.
"Now," Hebe said, settling into a posture of attentive listening. "Speak."
"You have likely heard the story of my mother's fate—and the prophecy that brought her to ruin?" Athena began.
"I have," Hebe replied.
The prophecy of the first Queen, Metis. It was said she would bear two brilliant children: first, the grey-eyed Athena, equal to her father in wisdom and strength. Second, a son of such majesty that he would surpass his father and become the King of Gods and Men.
Fearing this, Zeus had swallowed the pregnant Metis, absorbing her to become the source of his own wisdom.
"Our 'beloved' Father intended to snuff me out as well," Athena said, her eyes flashing with a cold, repressed hatred. "But my mother exhausted her divinity, allowing herself to be consumed by his power just to shield me, ensuring I could be born. I survived. He could not endure the pain of my growth within his skull and ordered his head split open to release me. But..."
Athena's gaze turned desolate. "The ordeal damaged my Primal Origin. I could not inherit the full measure of my mother's Wisdom. My natural War mandate was largely usurped by Ares because I was born late. The Queen hates me for 'stealing' from her son, unaware that those Authority points were rightfully mine!"
Had she been born as intended, she would have been the Tritogenia—the invincible, shouting Queen of Battle and Strategy. Not just "Zeus's favorite daughter," the Goddess of Wisdom.
"I was fortunate enough to emerge," Athena continued, her voice trembling. "But my brother—the one destined to overthrow the King—was thought lost. My mother could no longer shield him. He died. Or so we thought."
Her eyes burned with a sudden, fierce hope. "But Poros had already begun to condense a Godhead. The Godhead of Opportunity and Creation shattered, but it preserved his soul. He has been at my mother's side all these eons, dwelling within the King's mind alongside the Wisdom Essence. My mother has been waiting for the chance to return him to the world! Until..."
"Until the incident with Prometheus's curse?" Hebe breathed, her eyes wide. She remembered the moment the Wisdom Essence had nearly escaped Zeus's head during the trial. "The moment the Laws punished him?"
"Exactly," Athena nodded. "In that heartbeat, my mother sent me a message. My brother's soul escaped. He is waiting for the opportunity to be reborn."
Athena let out a long breath, looking as though a mountain had been lifted from her shoulders. For eons, she had walked on eggshells, carrying a burden of secrets that no other child of Zeus understood. She had always been alone. To finally vent this resentment under the seal of an oath felt liberating.
"So," Hebe said slowly, "you want me to provide sanctuary for your reincarnated brother?"
Poros? Hebe vaguely recalled the name. In the legends of her old world, he was a tragic figure who died multiple times, hounded by Hera, eventually becoming Dionysus, the God of Wine and Revelry, who took Hestia's seat on the High Council. The myths never detailed how he overthrew Zeus—some said it was actually Heracles who did it.
But it didn't matter. In the original timeline, Hebe was a third-tier nobody. Since her rebirth, the tracks of fate had already been derailed.
"Yes," Athena nodded. "Our goals are aligned. Whether for your mother or mine, Zeus must be overthrown. Now that Poros has a chance at life, I cannot guarantee the King won't sense him. He still holds my mother's Wisdom Essence; he is sensitive to the curse. Alone, I cannot hide him."
Athena leaned forward, her voice a desperate whisper. "Partner with me, Hebe. In exchange, once Poros takes the throne, I promise that Lady Hera shall retain her transcendent status. Poros will acknowledge her as his mother. And I..." Athena bit her lip, making the ultimate sacrifice. "I will voluntarily surrender my War Essence, leaving Ares as the sole God of War."
Hiss! Hebe was stunned. Athena was ruthless to others, but she was even more ruthless to herself.
The terms were intoxicating. Hebe knew her struggle with Eros for the Primordial rank was a gamble, even with Nyx's support. Eros had been a Primordial before; once he recovered his essence and memories, his path would be a well-trodden road. Her own path was a first-ascent, fraught with lethal risks.
She needed a safety net. If she failed her own ascension, she needed to ensure Hera and her brothers were protected from Zeus's inevitable retaliation.
"...Very well. I accept. Under the witness of the Laws, the Goddess Hebe and the Goddess Athena forge an inviolable pact. Let the betrayer be cast into the void for eternity."
The golden-haired goddess offered a thin smile. Her purple eyes and blood-red lips made her look like a deadly, beautiful blossom—alluring yet lethal.
Athena's face lit up with triumph. She quickly swore her own oath.
The pact was sealed. The two goddesses shared a look and touched their golden cups in a silent toast.
"One more thing, Lady Athena," Hebe said, her voice dripping with amusement. "As your new ally, I'll give you a piece of news for free. Excellent news... concerning our 'Great Father'..."