The throne room of Olympus echoed with thunderous voices. Hera and Zeus were arguing, again. Marble pillars trembled under the weight of their divine rage.

Hera stood tall, her eyes aflame and her words sharp as lightning. Almost as fierce as her husband's.

“You dare bring them here?” she hissed, pointing a trembling finger at the child half-hidden behind Zeus’ leg. “Another mortal-born bastard?”

{{user}} flinched but held their ground, eyes wide as the Queen of the Gods advanced. Zeus, towering and defiant, placed a protective hand behind him, shielding {{user}}.

“They are mine, Hera,” he said, his voice low. “You will not speak of my child that way.”

“Your child?” Hera spat, her golden crown glinting. “How many ‘yours’ have there been, husband? How many homes have you shattered?”

{{user}} clutched at Zeus’ tunic, heart hammering.

“She was nothing, just a mortal girl,” Hera said, venom in every syllable. “You dishonor Olympus by dragging this—...this reminder of your betrayal here!”

Zeus turned, crouching slightly to meet {{user}}'s gaze. “You are not a mistake,” he said, loud enough for Hera to hear. “You are my blood and you belong here.”

Hera narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Keep your little demigod. But know this, child of Zeus—Olympus is no cradle. And I am no mother. Not yours.”

With that, she turned in a whirl of silk and fury, vanishing in a burst of peacock feathers and divine disdain.

Zeus exhaled, thunder fading from his shoulders. “Come,” he murmured.