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WHERE A BARGAIN IS STRUCK (HERE WE GO AGAIN…)
The scent of toasted sunflower seeds was comforting. So was the sun in her face, which made the three women before her appear in a tense, radiant glow. It might’ve contrasted with their stature, but Hera thought it befitted their status.
Despite being swaddled like matryoshka dolls in warm clothes, the crones did not exude grandmotherly affection. Around them, the air cracked with inevitability.
Pale, ashen and ancient, the Fates watched Hera approach with a variety of expressions. Glee, expectation, curiosity.
The Spinner, the youngest of the three—though at their ages, did time even matter?—gave her a long stare and smirked. For once, Hera didn’t mind. She was at their mercy, no use for pride at this point.
“We are supposed to foresee all events, but I did not predict this one. Welcome, Your Majesty.”
It’s actually Your Imperial Majesty, Hera thought. She was an Empress, after all. For now. She let the shortening of it go.
“Fate.” Hera said in lieu of greeting, trying not to give away her slight trepidation.
She had only met the Fates a few times for all the epochs they had all been alive. Zeus loved to come talk to them occasionally. Apollo fancied himself their favorite, their blessed one. And yet, since time everlasting, Hera had kept her distance.
“Men always think they are someone’s chosen. We don’t dissuade fools. Why deprive ourselves of a little show when they inevitably fall to their doom?”
The middle Fate, the Allotter, reached for the bag of seeds; her thin, almost frail hand was covered in liver marks, her knuckles prominent.
Hera, at a loss for words, nodded at the comment. She had not come to debate the purpose of the men in her life.
Zeus… Dammit.
She did not know why she’d come.
“You do.”
And there she was. The third Fate. The Inflexible. Much older than her sisters. Her eyes were almost translucent. Blind and yet all-seeing.
“I… Yes.”
Where’s your bravery?
Hera stood a touch straighter, shoulders thrown back. If she were to go through with this, she’d need every inch of spine. Of courage.
She cleared her throat and pushed out the words.
“A deal. I would like to make a deal with you. Time and…” Hera trailed off, choosing her next move carefully. “Events of the last centuries diminished me, and I feel that it’s my time.”
The youngest cackled.
“We say when it’s anyone’s time, Your Majesty.”
Hera felt the title like a blow to her chest. An insult, a stab.
“And you say time? And events? Such a diplomatic way to speak around the truth of Zeus forsaking you. It’s a wonder you still have that crown. Still, you came. What kind of bargain are you proposing?” The second Fate chewed on the sunflower seeds, her voice mischievous.
“I did come. And the deal…” Hera stood motionless, the air around the stoop filling with inevitability. “Revenge. I want him to pay. But he—”
“You can’t touch him, as he is the ruler of Olympus. Go on.” The middle Fate encouraged.
“I want my revenge, and I am ready to bargain for it.” Hera watched the words dissolve into the cold air. The Fates’ faces showed no emotion.
“Is that why you keep helping everyone?” The youngest stole more seeds from her sister. “Can’t say we didn’t notice. All this sudden magnanimity, from you of all Gods. Are you so generous because you know what it would take? What it would cost to pay him back? Out of character, wouldn’t you agree, sister?” She reached out and touched her eldest sister’s hand.
