Percy Jackson's Greek Gods (Percy Jackson and the Olympians companion #5.5) - Rick Riordan Page 0,43

info on Jeopardy! someday.

The rest of the world was smart and went to the party. The bride and groom entered the sacred grove in a golden chariot driven by Eos, the Titan of the dawn, so rosy red light spread over the crowd as Zeus and Hera approached, signaling the dawning of a new day. The Three Fates officiated at the ceremony, which would have made me nervous. Those creepy old ladies could control the future and snip your lifeline, so you’d have to take your vows pretty seriously.

Hera and Zeus became man and wife, king and queen of the universe.

Everybody gave them amazing presents, but the last one was Hera’s favorite. The earth rumbled, and a sapling burst from the ground—a young apple tree bearing solid gold fruit. There was no card attached, but Hera knew it was a gift from her grandmother Gaea, who was still asleep, but who must have sensed a party going on.

Hera ordered the apple tree taken to the farthest western corner of the earth, where it was replanted in a beautiful garden right at the feet of the Titan Atlas, who was still holding up the sky. She sent an immortal dragon named Ladon to guard the tree, along with a group of Atlas’s daughters called the Hesperides, the nymphs of the evening sky.

Why Hera planted her apple tree way out there instead of keeping it on Mount Olympus, I don’t know. Maybe she just wanted to make it harder for heroes to steal her apples later on. If so, her plan worked…mostly.

Zeus and Hera stayed happily married for three hundred years, which isn’t a long time for gods but is better than your average Hollywood marriage. They had three kids together: a boy, Ares, who was what you’d call a problem child; a girl, Hebe, who became the goddess of eternal youth; and another girl, Eileithyia, who became the goddess of childbirth. Kind of bad planning—having the goddess of childbirth last, after you’ve had two kids. It’s almost like Hera thought, Wow, this childbearing stuff? This hurts! We should have a goddess for this.

After their third kid was born, Zeus started to get the four-hundred-year itch. He remembered the good old days when he was a single guy, ambushing goddesses in snake pits and fun stuff like that. He started looking at other women and flirting again.

He’d promised to be a good husband, and he had been…for a while. But when you’re immortal, those vows about “as long as you both shall live” take on a whole new meaning.

The more he flirted, the more upset and suspicious Hera got.

What she hated most were all the kids Zeus had by other women. They just kept popping up like weeds. Zeus claimed they were all from previous relationships, but that excuse didn’t really cut it. Some of these kids were mortal, and they definitely didn’t look over three hundred years old. Every time one of them showed up, Hera imagined the other gods snickering behind her back, whispering about what a fool she’d been to trust Zeus.

Finally she blew her lid.

She shouted at Zeus, “You keep having kids without me! You think that’s funny? You think I appreciate your going back on your promise?”

Zeus frowned. “Is that a trick question?”

“See how you like it!” Hera cried. “I’m going to have a kid without you, without any man! I’ll have a baby all by myself!”

Zeus scratched his head. “Uh, honey, I don’t think it works that way.”

“Bah!” Hera marched out of the throne room.

I don’t know how she did it. Since her wedding with Zeus, Hera had become the goddess of marriage and motherhood, so I suppose she had certain powers. Anyway, out of sheer force of will, some very effective breathing exercises, possibly some Eastern meditation, and a proper diet, Hera got pregnant magically, with absolutely no help.

That was the good news.

The bad news? When the baby arrived, he looked like he could’ve used some help. His head was misshapen. His whole body was covered with patches of curly black hair. He had a large chest and bulky arms, but his legs were shriveled and bent, one slightly longer than the other. Instead of crying, he made grunting noises like he really needed to use the bathroom.

He was the ugliest kid Hera had ever seen. Even though he was her own baby, she felt no motherly connection at all—no love, just embarrassment.

Personally, I’m not surprised things turned out badly. I mean, you have a