I Am Zeus-Chapter 37: “I just want to live as Zeus.”

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Chapter 37: “I just want to live as Zeus.”

Olympus – Morning Winds and Marble Secrets

Hera stepped through the golden archway at the entrance of Olympus. The dawn light caught her robes, painting them with soft reds and deep purples as she walked forward with her head held high. Every step echoed with quiet authority. No one dared greet her. They simply bowed low as she passed, their eyes lowered to the polished marble floor.

The mission was done. Typhon’s broken corpse lay rotting back in Tartarus. She had spoken with the ancient prison itself, and her words still tasted bitter on her tongue.

But none of that showed on her face. Her expression was smooth, calm, commanding. As she moved through the long halls of Olympus, she caught flickers of conversation among the lesser gods and nymphs standing near the columns, their whispers fluttering like moth wings.

"...Metis is always near him these days..." freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

"...the queen must be wise... Metis is wisdom itself..."

"...Zeus has already chosen. She sits with him even in council. The others only watch."

Hera’s footsteps slowed just a fraction.

The air around her remained still, but inside her chest something coiled tight, like a serpent waking. Her fingers clenched around the golden sash at her waist. She didn’t pause or look at them. Their whispers fell silent the moment they sensed her attention shift their way. Eyes dropped quickly, shoulders tensed, breath held.

She continued walking. The stone under her sandals felt colder now.

Metis.

Of course it was her. Always calm, always graceful, always just there, at Zeus’s side. She had been patient and clever, playing the long game. And everyone saw it. Even these gossiping little shadows.

Queen of Olympus.

The thought burned her. She could feel it smouldering under her ribs, a quiet anger she kept hidden behind her lashes. Hera’s steps quickened. The long train of her robes whispered behind her like a hunting snake as she ascended the wide staircase towards Zeus’s chambers.

She stopped at the carved silver doors. For a moment, she closed her eyes. Breathed in. Out. The anger dulled, replaced by something colder. Something sharper.

This isn’t over, she told herself. Metis can sit beside him as much as she likes. But there is only one queen. And Olympus... will remember my name, not hers.

She lifted her chin, eyes steady as the guards opened the doors for her.

Inside, Zeus rested against the pillows, awake but unmoving, eyes half-closed as he listened to the wind outside. His chest was still bandaged from the fight with Typhon. Thunder crackled faintly under his skin, like lightning trapped beneath flesh.

He turned his head as Hera entered. For a second, the faintest flicker of relief crossed his face, so brief it almost wasn’t there. Then he nodded.

"Hera," he rumbled softly. His voice was low, a little rough from exhaustion, but still carried that undeniable weight of command. "You’ve returned."

She bowed low, letting her hair fall forward like a dark curtain before rising again with measured grace.

"My king," she said. "The mission was successful. Typhon has been returned to Tartarus... where he belongs."

Zeus’s gaze sharpened at that, his golden eyes meeting hers fully for the first time.

"And Tartarus himself?" he asked.

Hera paused. The memory of Tartarus’s crushing presence pressed at her throat for an instant, but she swallowed it down and kept her expression serene.

"He is... displeased. But contained. For now."

Zeus nodded once, slow and thoughtful. Sparks danced faintly across his shoulders before fading. "Good. You’ve done well."

Something in her chest tightened again. You’ve done well. Praise... but not intimacy. Not closeness. Not... hers.

She smiled softly regardless. A smile perfectly practised.

"I serve Olympus," she said.

Zeus closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, leaning back into the pillows as thunder rolled faintly outside.

Hera watched him for a moment longer, her eyes lingering on the soft flicker of his heartbeat beneath the bronze skin of his throat.

Metis may be his mind... she thought, her smile fading as her eyes turned cold again, ...but I will be his storm.

Then, quietly, she turned and left the chamber. The doors closed behind her with a whispering thud, echoing through the marble halls of Olympus as the morning wind rose, carrying secrets between its silent currents.

Zeus watched as Hera’s silhouette faded beyond the closing doors. The soft thud of polished wood echoed through his chambers, leaving only silence in its wake. He lay back against the mountain of ivory pillows, exhaling a slow, tired breath.

His eyes drifted to the ceiling where thin golden carvings of lightning branched out above him like frozen veins. Sparks danced across his fingers as he thought.

In the old stories... she’s supposed to be queen.

It was true. He knew enough of those distant myths to recall her place by his side, her name woven with his in worship halls and prayers yet to be spoken. Hera, the queen of Olympus, mother of gods, goddess of marriage and fidelity.

But stories... were just that. Stories.

His eyes darkened, not with anger, but with a weary understanding. Hera... she was strong. Unbending. Her beauty was undeniable, her mind sharp, her will relentless. All the qualities a queen should possess. But—

Her heart...

Zeus closed his eyes, feeling the storm within him quiet to a low rumble. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her. He did, in his own way. There was admiration there. Desire. Even respect for her strength. But love... love needed room to breathe. Hera’s love was a chain. Beautiful, golden, unbreakable. But a chain nonetheless.

She wouldn’t let him live as himself. Not fully. Not as Zeus, king of storms, father of gods, lover of the world’s beauty in all its shapes. Her jealousy would choke him until he was nothing but a caged thunder, roaring behind marble walls while she smiled at the world.

His hand curled around the blanket covering his waist, sparks crackling softly between his fingers.

But Metis...

His thoughts softened. Metis, with her quiet wisdom. Her patience. Her eyes that saw everything and judged nothing. She didn’t need to chain him to keep him close. She simply... stayed. And in her staying, he found peace.

She knew his flaws. His wandering eyes, his hunger for life, his unquenchable thirst for power and affection alike. And yet she remained calm, never nagging, never scorning. As long as his love was true to her at its core, she would not clip his wings.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. Small. Almost sad.

If only the world saw her the way I do, he thought.

He let his head fall back against the pillows, his gaze softening with sleep as dawn light began to pour through the balcony curtains, casting warm gold across his bare chest.

In the quiet, he whispered to himself, a confession no one would ever hear.

"I just want to live as Zeus."

And as sleep finally claimed him, the storm inside fell silent, resting under the calm wisdom of a woman who would never need to call herself queen to hold his throne within her hands.

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