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The answer was surprisingly easy. She felt her shoulders drop, her jaw muscles relaxing.

“Zeus has been sucking faces with so many blondes, Revenge, at this point, I don’t care.”

It felt freeing to say it. To let herself articulate the words. The smile that met her comeback was blinding. Hera almost turned away again, just to avoid how beautiful it was. How utterly stunning. And how unbelievable it was for her to be standing barefoot in her kitchen at 10 am on a Saturday, smiling like a fool at the most beautiful woman in the world, who was equally barefoot and comfortable in said kitchen, having made love to her all night.

Made love?

Hera bit the inside of her cheek before she blurted something entirely foolish and hurried to continue their conversation.

“It’s all part of the plan, Revenge.”

“The yacht stung him, the company infuriated him, the art scared him. Taking away the woman? Will drive him insane. All in all, I think this is one of your best payback plans.”

Hera flinched. Something in her tone of voice felt like a slap across the face. Was it the insinuation that her other plans of revenge had been bad? She shook her head, more instinct to ward off further criticism than to clear her mind.

Her long and largely misspent life had taught her not to dwell on things she couldn’t control. Like what others would say about her. They invariably said that she was nothing but a vapid, vengeful, scorned woman. She had played the role for far too long not to play it well.

It had been the case with Hades and Persephone, where Zeus and Hades herself had schemed, and Hera had been the one picking up the pieces of Demeter’s fury and pain. It had been the plan he had concocted and pawned on her to marry Aphrodite off. If not for her ability to act as an absolute asshole when necessary, Hera highly doubted Aphrodite and Athena would have found each other. She had pushed all the right buttons, with Ares, with Artemis, with Hephaestus.

She had owed the Goddess of Love a large debt, after the millennia of abuse she had endured at the hands of every other male deity, which Hera rarely managed to stop. Not that she would ever confess to being the main reason those two were loopily in love. Hera could cop to the conception of their child. The rest she would take to the Underworld with her.

The little manipulation she’d pulled on Demeter and Erato had been just that, a little manipulation. Again, all she needed was to push a few buttons, spin a favorable web of circumstances and voilà! Her sister was getting married to the Muse of Smut. At least the sex would be great.

And here she was, in her own kitchen, with a woman she found compelling, a woman she wanted to see her as more than just a vengeful harpy. Zeus was usually spot on with his epithets. And yet she didn’t trust that anyone would ever see through her act. See through her. See her.

“Hey…” The word was said too close to her, and Hera jumped, having missed Nemesis approaching her once again. “You seem distracted. It’s all coming together brilliantly. Your plan is a resounding success. Be proud of yourself.”

Hera nodded, head bobbing up and down weakly, eyes suddenly stinging with unshed tears. Was she proud of herself? Damn if she knew.

“Well, it’s not done yet, so let’s not celebrate prematurely. There’s still the matter of the woman.”

Nemesis’s grin was all arrogance.

“You really think that particular part will be difficult?”

For some reason, one that Hera decidedly did not wish to articulate to herself, all the boast did was light something unpleasant in her chest.

“You weren’t supposed to get bloody with the third task either. So slow your horses, Revenge.”

She turned away, escaping the encroaching confines of Nemesis’s body. She craved the warmth too much; she wanted Nemesis to hold her, to tell her she was wrong, tell her she was worried about nothing, tell her she was… well…

“You are just this good, Hera. This good at planning, at conceptualizing, at finding weakness and pressing the right buttons. This will not go sideways.”

Yes, Hera wanted to hear she was good. And Nemesis, murmuring her name, maybe for the first time, started something strange and painful in her sternum. But… She didn’t want to hear it like this. She sighed. Story of her life. The Empress of Olympus had everything. Everything but what she really wanted. It was what it was.

“Just don’t get cocky.” Hera murmured and Nemesis’s grin became all mischief, as Hera waved her hands in front of her face to stop the incoming joke. “Absolutely do not even think of going there!”

“You like me cocky. And you like it when I go there, Your Majesty.”

“Anyway! Can we please move on from this?” Hera sat, meticulously arranging her robe, mostly to give herself something to do.

“Sure thing.” Nemesis poured herself another mug and plopped another pastry on her plate. Hera found it endearing that the woman could eat in times like these.

Endearing? Fates take her; she was losing her mind.

“So I checked his calendar, and he has a big event, some kind of gala, in a week. It will give Clio and me enough time to arrange things. But it looks honestly straightforward, as in there will be nothing straight about it.”

“You’ll just swoop in and charm the girl, and that’s that?”