Archive of Our Own

PART ONE: The Siblings.

“Now, none of us want to hear all of the details,” Demeter stated, her glare narrowing in on Hera. “We know you two are like rabbits, so spare us. But you should tell us how it was without the gory details.”

“Rabbits?” Hestia asked, batting her lashes innocently.

“You know,” Poseidon spoke, shrugging. “Fucking.”

“That’s more than enough,” Hades said, skin a tinge greener than it had been a few minutes prior. “The vacation. What did you do?”

“I think Poseidon summed it up perfectly,” Zeus replied, slipping his arm around Hera’s shoulder. It made her relax a little, despite the pent-up energy coursing through her veins like electricity. 

There was no logical explanation for the way Hera felt. She had done nothing wrong, and the news she bore was the kind that brought celebration, not misery. She was prepared, capable, and more grown than nearly any other woman in existence. The only thing she should have felt was an unadulterated sense of joy. Deep in her soul, she knew this could only be positive.

Why then did nerves gnaw at her like vermin?

“What Zeus means to say,” Hera spoke, shoving aside the tension with well-practiced mental walls. “Is that we travelled. Dined well, had many adventures, and saw some of our favourite parts of the world again for the first time in far too many years.”

“That sounds wonderful. What made you decide to come home?” Hestia asked. Her smile was warm, genuine, devoid of any inkling that she could know the truth - but still, Hera’s teeth clenched in her mouth.

Zeus glanced towards her, a brief, fleeting thing. She dared not meet his eye - not yet. She needed more time, more of a chance to process what they were about to say.

“We just missed you all so much,” Zeus said instead, the brilliance of his grin catching the corner of her eye.

“Bullshit,” Poseidon said. “You didn’t trust us to keep things handled around here.”

“Well, Olympus isn’t burning, so I guess you did an alright job,” Hera snickered.

“There was an incident between Athena and Apollo that brought the council to a standstill for nearly a week, but-”

“But-” Demeter interjected, tossing Poseidon a pointed glare. “It was handled. Everything worked out fine.”

Zeus raised a skeptical brow, but before he could comment, was promptly interrupted by someone who could smell danger approaching from kilometers away.

“Well, I’m happy you’re home,” Hades offered a dip of his head, the faintest hint of a smile ghosting his lips. “Do you feel well-rested?”

“Very,” Hera said. Was she imagining it, or was there something in Hades’ stare? A knowing look that only he could don with such subtlety?

Zeus’ grip on her shoulder shifted, no longer resting gently. His fingers squeezed and relaxed multiple times in rapid succession. She knew what they needed to do, but her stomach churned in protest.

Gods, why was she being such a coward? Hera was no coward. She was millennia old, and did not know if she could succeed at being a mother again after all these years, but that was no reason to be so meek.

Steeling herself, chin raised, Hera spoke again.

“Actually, Zeus and I have a bit of an announcement.”

“You two can’t step down any further,” Demeter said with a laugh.

“No, no, it’s not that,” Hera swallowed, leaning deeper into her husband’s side. He was warm, stoic, her beacon of strength. They could do this. She could do this. “No, it’s that I’m pregnant.”

Silence had never felt so loud. It lasted only a moment, a blink of an eye - but to Hera it felt like centuries. She watched as each of their faces morphed from shock, to confusion, to something else entirely. Hestia’s eyes welled with tears - good or bad, Hera could not decide. Her twin brother’s face was as unreadable as ever, but the slight quirk of his brow did not bode well. Poseidon’s mouth sat agape. Each of them was surprised, maybe even horrified that Zeus and Hera would try this again after so many years, and -

Demeter was the one to break the silence.

“I knew it,” She breathed, her face splitting with a brilliant grin. “I could tell, just by the way you were sitting, Hera.”

“You mean it?” Tears spilled down Hestia’s cheeks, and she too smiled with the warmth of the sun. “This is incredible, Hera. You must be so thrilled.”

“I… am not sure what to think,” Hera admitted, her voice a whisper. A fool she’d been, to think they would respond in any other manner. Projecting her own inner insecurities onto her family wasn’t right.

“I am ecstatic,” Zeus said. Ever confident - Hera latched onto his strength with shaking fingers. “We know it has been a very long time since we raised a child, but Hera is a natural.”

“I can’t believe Zeus’ parts still work,” Poseidon snorted.

“Ancient but not old, Poseidon.”

Hades blinked away the mask, his dark eyes finding Hera through her racing thoughts. His own smile was soft, barely there - but it, more than anything else, made her nerves flit away. “This is happy news, Hera. You both deserve this joy after all you have endured.”

Hera breathed out a tense sigh, sinking deeper into Zeus’ embrace. They were right - and the truth was out now. It felt foolish to fret so much. She was the goddess of motherhood, for crying out loud. She could handle raising a child, even if it had been millennia since the last one. She deserved this joy. She could do this. She was a natural.

“Are you worried, Hera?” Hestia asked softly, reaching for her hand. Hera allowed the squeeze, even if the question made her sigh.

“I suppose, in a sense. It has been such a long time, and if I must admit, neither of us expected this. But I am happy, despite it all.”

“We’re ready for this,” Zeus agreed.

“Of course you are,” Demeter said. “We could all use a baby to cuddle and dote upon. Thanks for taking one for the team, you two.”

“Another little one,” Hestia said breathlessly. “Oh, I can’t wait!”

“It’s going to be disgusting how spoiled that child is,” Poseidon grinned.

“Have you told your other children?” Hades asked.

Nerves returned to bubble in Hera’s stomach, her head throbbing with discomfort. Before she could speak and allow those anxieties any room to breathe, Zeus answered for her.

“Not yet, but we will. We want to do it right, of course.”

“They’ll be happy for you,” Hestia insisted. “How could they not?”

Hera could think of a few ways - but she kept them to herself. Joy. Excitement. You’re a natural. She was supposed to be happy. Why couldn’t she just be happy, the way Zeus was?

“They will be,” Zeus spoke again. “This will be an adjustment for all of us, but one we are all perfectly capable of making. Not to mention, Hera and I deserve something good, I’d like to think. After everything.”

“No one would deny you this,” Hades agreed. “How far along are you?”

“About three months,” Hera replied automatically, the date etched into her mind like carvings on a cave wall. “Twelve weeks.”

Demeter clapped her hands together excitedly, her grin brilliant as sunlight. “And how are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Hera murmured. “Tired.”

“We’ll be here to help you,” Hestia said, still holding her hand tight and firm. “Through it all.”

Hera held to that, tight as her body could muster. They would help her. They supported her. She did not need to fear. 

She tried to let that convince her.

PART TWO: The Children.

The entire table shook from Zeus’ incessant foot tapping.

Hera tried not to be annoyed, given she was likely as nervous as he was. Her own belly swirled with nausea, from anxiety or morning sickness, it was difficult to tell. But her hands were certainly clammy where they rested against her lap, and her heart thundered like pounding hooves. Still, where Zeus had previously been a beacon of strength for her against the bundle of terror she had become, he now felt stoutly less resolute.

They were in this together. She reached for his hand to give it a squeeze, and his lips quirked in a reassuring smile as response. Together.

“You were not gone that long,” Eris complained, approaching the dining table with her usual sour expression, dark hair a mess of strands she had not bothered to comb. Enyo was quick to follow her, with Ares and Hebe bringing up the rear. “Family dinners for anything less than a death are disgusting.”

“What Eris means to say,” Hebe interjected, pressing a loving kiss to both Hera and Zeus’ heads. “Is that we are so glad you’re back, and we hope your trip was as lovely as you dreamed.”

“We thought you’d be gone longer for sure,” Ares said. “Couldn’t handle not being at the center of everythin’, huh?”

“Something like that,” Zeus replied, rolling his eyes. “Thyia and Heph are…?”

“Right here, Father,” Eileithyia spoke from the doorway, pushing Hephaestus up to the table in his wheelchair before sliding into the seat opposite Hera. “We’re glad to see you.”

“What is this about, really?” Enyo asked, her piercing gaze narrowed into a skeptical glare. “Are you getting a divorce?”

“What?” Hera asked incredulously. “No, of course not! We wanted to see our children. Is that such a crime?”

“Sometimes,” Eris muttered.

Hera heard the deep breath Zeus sucked in before he spoke. She braced herself for impact, for the weight of the truth that was about to leave his lips.

“It’s quite the opposite, actually,” He said simply.

Now that everyone was seated, their stares felt less oppressive. Still, she knew that this conversation had far more chance to go awry than the one with their siblings. Hebe’s brow raised, and Hephaestus leaned a little closer, lips quirked.

“Your mother is pregnant,” Zeus said with an air of finality.

Pandemonium of a sort erupted in the aftermath; not the kind that led to bruised jaws and split lips, but a softer kind. The harsh silence of shock, the audible gasps of surprise. And then, the loud scraping of restaurant chairs against tile floors as Eris climbed from her seat in a rush.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” She spat, storming across the restaurant before anyone could stop her. More silence. Hephaestus coughed awkwardly to fill the air.

“That’s amazing!” Hebe squealed, jumping up from her seat. She threw her arms first around Zeus, then her mother, shaking Hera out of her stupor. “Ignore Eris, she’s sensitive. I can’t believe we’re going to have another baby brother or sister!”

“You won’t be the youngest anymore,” Enyo said, voice smooth and emotionless. “How does that make you feel?”

“Excited,” Hebe beamed.

“Me too,” Eileithyia agreed. Though she had always been more reserved than her sisters, she still managed a smile for her parents that eased the cold in Hera’s heart. At least some of them were happy. “Another baby will bring so much life to the Mountain.”

“I, too, see no issue with another addition,” Enyo said, her stoic congratulations welcome in the chaos.

“Neither do I,” Hephaestus said, shrugging. “What you two get up to is none o’ my business, anyway. Congrats, I suppose.”

“Thank you,” Zeus said, forcing a smile. “Your mother and I won’t deny that this is unexpected, but we wanted you to know as soon as possible. We wanted you to be a part of this.”

“Are you ready to have another kid?” Ares asked, his scarred expression not one of accusation, but genuine concern. Leave it to her son to ask hard-hitting questions - and his twin to cause a scene. “It’s been several millennia since Heebs was born, and-”

“Yes,” Hera said immediately, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “It’s been a long time, but we’re not useless, you know.”

“‘Course not,” Ares agreed. “Just… tired. You’re going to need lots of help.”

“We will,” Hera nodded.

“Alright,” Ares shrugged. “I love babies.”

Five stamps of approval - only one was missing. Eris’ anger was not unexpected, but it still left a sour taste in Hera’s mouth where there should have been only joy. The excited chatter flitted about the table, Hebe and Eileithyia mostly, asking a plethora of questions about the pregnancy that Zeus gracefully answered in her stead.

Hera’s eyes drifted to where Eris had fled, her lips pursed. One more. She still needed one more approval. Without another word, she rose from the table, hand to her belly, and strolled off after her most unruly daughter.

She found her easily enough. Eris did not go far - rarely did, when she was in this sort of mood - and Hera approached her in the bathroom with minimal incident. Eris glared into the mirror like it had committed a grievous crime, pointedly avoiding Hera’s gaze.

“What about this angers you so much?” Hera whispered, frowning at her daughter. “Why can’t you be happy for us?”

“I dunno,” Eris huffed, gripping the sink with white knuckles. “Maybe because you’re both fucked up enough as it is, and probably shouldn’t be bringing a baby into this world.”

Hera fought down a wince. “Maybe that’s true.”

“You’re old. Like old old. That doesn’t mean as much for us, but it still means something!”

“It does. It will not be easy.”

“Yeah. Not to mention this family is fucking big enough already. That thing is going to take all your time, and you haven’t got any of that shit already.”

Ah. There it was. Hera might have suspected, were she of clearer mind. Eris had always been so painfully sensitive about being wanted.

Reaching for her daughter’s face, Hera did not let the death glare deter her. Though Eris huffed as Hera brushed her hair away, she did not bite, and that was better than nothing. “Sweetheart, it’s going to be difficult. I won’t deny that. But we’ll not have less time for you, or the others. This can only bring us together, not drive us apart.”

Eris frowned, deep and pained, with eyes like dark pits of sorrow. “I want you to mean that.”

“I mean it as much as I possibly can,” Hera whispered.

Groaning, Eris ran a hand over her face. “Oh, I’m being stupid. Sorry I derailed the announcement. I think I’m a little hangry.”

“I’m just glad you’ve come around.”

“...You really let dad knock you up again?” Eris asked, shaking her head in disbelief. “That’s so gross.”

Hera laughed, and felt the last of her anxieties drift away. She was capable. Her family would be there to support her. What other reasons could she possibly have to be afraid?

And like that, the fear dissipated.

“How else would I have been graced with someone as special as you?”