Daughters of Olympus

by Hannah M. Lynn

Our reign. This was the Golden Age. Or at least, that is what we were told.

This was my calling. To bring harvests to mortals. To turn those decades of darkness into light and life, and I embraced it.

But this is not Hera’s story. It is mine, and it would be wrong to say that Zeus hurt me. He destroyed me.

For though the blood of great gods flowed in his veins, Iacchus, for all his abilities, could have been a mere mortal.

there are times when pain should be numbed and times when you should let it burn through you with all the fire your body can withstand.

How happiness can be so deeply intertwined with grief, so it would not be possible for the joy to exist had the pain not been present beforehand.

You must decide which you view as the truth, if there even is one, for I myself do not know.

“Draw strength from the pain that you feel,” Thelxiepia continued. “Know that it comes from a place of power. You will be better for this loss.”

Even in death, mortals were held by the bounds of others. Was it ever possible, then, for one to be truly free, when even in death they were beholden to another?

To choose a name is a gift few of us are granted, though I wish more were allowed that freedom. A name is not merely a cluster of sounds, it is the identity we offer to others before we even show our face. Names are rich with our history and heritage. They help shape our place in the world.

And the longer something entwines itself around you, the harder it is to break loose.

“Because I believe your love for her formed because she was the first person who made you see your true strength, and if I had gotten there sooner, perhaps it would have been me you fell in love with instead.”