9. Hera’s Curse
Hera’s Curse
Alexander
Zeus should have killed me.
As I walked into the heart of House Hestia, the bitter taste of terror and failure filled my mouth.
Here, there were no harsh lights, no sterile chemical smells, just a gentle ambient glow from panels woven into the walls by Hephaestus artisans.
It was a place of profound peace, and every serene particle felt like an accusing glance.
Andie was somewhere inside this building, possibly fighting for her life. All because of me.
“They’re in the private waiting chamber,” Nikos said, his voice low and grounding at my side. He was the only solid thing in a world that had become a blur of terror. Behind us, Argos moved in silence. I didn’t know why he’d decided to join us, but I couldn’t be bothered to care.
Nikos led us to a set of frosted glass doors. They slid open with a whisper, and the fragile quiet within fractured under the weight of our arrival.
The scene was a tableau of grief. Helena stood staring at a wall, her legendary composure frozen into an empty stillness. On a low couch sat two men, one with his face buried in his hands, the other rubbing his partner’s back. Andromeda’s fathers.
The man being comforted—Dr. Robert Cross—looked up. His eyes, red-rimmed and hollowed out by grief, found mine. Recognition dawned, and then his sorrow curdled into a raw, undiluted hatred.
“You,” he spat, surging to his feet. His gaze shot to Helena. “What in the hell is he doing here? Helena, you told me you would handle this!”
Helena didn’t move, didn’t even seem to register his voice. She remained a statue carved from shock.
I opened my mouth, the shape of an apology forming on my lips.
The words refused to come. It was just as well.
Before I could say anything, my father stepped forward, his posture as firm and undaunted as that of Zeus himself.
“Dr. Cross,” he said. “My son is Andromeda’s mate.
If there is anyone who should be here, it is him. ”
It was a political statement, a claim of territory staked over a wounded body.
It was the pure, uncut essence of House Zeus: a reminder to this grieving man of the power dynamics he had stumbled into.
But Robert didn’t back down. “Mate?” he snarled.
“Don’t be absurd. He’s the monster that put her in that room! ”
“My son wasn’t even at your daughter’s venue,” Argos drawled. “If something happened to Andromeda, the blame can’t be laid at Alexander’s feet. You’re being ridiculous.”
What was ridiculous was him somehow trying to protect me. I didn’t need it. I didn’t want it. Because Dr. Cross was right.
The other man, Elias, rose from the couch. He placed a steadying hand on Robert’s arm. He remained a silent anchor against the tide of his husband’s fury. “Robert, stop arguing with them. This isn’t helping Andie.”
“Don’t tell me to stop, Elias!” Robert’s voice cracked, raw with impotent fury as he tried to shrug off the touch. “You know as well as I do they started all of this. Stormwright with his stalking. With his obsession.”
“I know. But trying to reason with an Olympian is like talking to a brick wall.”
My father’s attention shifted, his gaze sliding from Robert to Elias. “Well, if it isn’t Elias Swift,” Argos said. “What is a representative of House Hermes doing so far from his usual routes?”
House Hermes? I stared at Elias in disbelief. As far as I knew, both of Andromeda’s fathers were non-Olympians. Apparently I’d been wrong.
Elias only shrugged. “I haven’t been House Hermes in over a decade,” he said. “But you know that very well, Argos Stormwright.”
He shifted his weight, a small, deliberate movement. It was then that I saw it—the subtle, unnatural stiffness in his left leg. He put his weight on it, and the fine wool of his trousers pulled taut, revealing the unmistakable, sculpted lines of a prosthetic limb beneath.
“House Hermes doesn’t have much use for couriers who can’t meet their time trials,” he drawled. “Imperfection is… discouraged.”
Imperfection. I didn’t know why, but I suddenly had the feeling he was no longer talking about his lost leg.
“I am here as a father,” he said, the simple title a claim more powerful than any House name. “As far as I’m concerned, we’ve all failed Andie. Robert and I. Helena. And particularly, your son. If he is her mate, like he claims, he’s a greater failure than all of us put together.”
He was right. The posturing, the accusations—it was all useless noise. The phantom echo of the Maracaibo ritual flared with agonizing impotence. I could call down a storm, but I couldn’t undo a single moment of her pain.
“He’s right,” I said. “This is my fault.”
“Alexander, it was an accident.” Argos stepped in. “Stop letting them blame you for something you couldn’t have stopped.”
If only that were true. But he didn’t know the truth, didn’t grasp the enormity of my involvement in Andie’s plight.
Before I could explain, Helena finally moved. She took a single step forward, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. The catatonic stillness was gone, shattered by the direct confrontation. What remained was a woman flayed raw by guilt.
“You’re right, Argos,” she said, her voice hollow. “Alexander did nothing. He simply existed.”
Elias took a step closer to her, the line of his back going more rigid. “Helena, what does that mean?”
Helena’s head came up, and she gave him a look of soul-deep exhaustion.
“There is a reason I allowed Andie to live with you two. I could have taken her back at any time. She is still a House Hera Omega, and she has a right to her legacy. But I never wanted her to meet an Alpha from one of the Great Houses—or better said, an Alpha from House Zeus.”
She took a shaky breath, the confession spilling out of her now. “There is an affliction in my bloodline. A curse. It lies dormant until a House Hera Omega forms a connection with a House Zeus Alpha. Hera’s Curse.”
Robert stared at Helena, his face a mask of horrified disbelief. “A curse? Helena, what are you saying? That’s… Why would the gods do such a thing?”
“The curse is rooted in the history between our patrons,” Helena replied. “It creates a feedback loop of paranoia. When the Alpha is present, the Omega’s biology perceives him as a predator. She is driven to push him away, to attack him, to escape at all costs.
“But when the Alpha is absent,” Helena went on, her voice trembling, “it’s worse. The paranoia turns inward. The Omega begins to believe the Alpha is orchestrating events, manipulating the world around her. She loses her grip on what is real, spiraling into an obsession that consumes her.”
It was nothing I hadn’t heard already, of course.
Helena and I had spoken of this countless times, trying to figure out a solution.
That didn’t make it any easier to hear. “I’d have stayed away if it had helped,” I confessed.
“But that makes it worse, too. Hera’s anger stemmed from Zeus’s…
indiscretions. Therefore, when Andie and I are not together, the curse is merely fed by irrational jealousy. ”
My father grimaced. “And I suppose… It does something to the outside world, too, doesn’t it?”
Helena nodded. “The affliction escalates as it worsens. It creates an effect called Hera’s Gaze, amplifying suspicion, turning allies into enemies.
The fight at the wedding… the bride’s sudden jealousy, the family turning on each other…
that wasn’t random. That was the curse, using Andie as its epicenter to create chaos. ”
Elias, who had been listening with a preternatural stillness, finally spoke. His voice was quiet, but it sliced through the room’s turmoil. “Why didn’t you tell us, Helena? We’re her fathers. We had a right to know she was carrying this inside her.”
Helena flinched, unable to meet his gaze.
“She was so adamant about rejecting the Olympian world,” she stammered, the excuse sounding weak even to her own ears.
“I thought… I hoped it would never be an issue. And you…” She looked at Elias, a fresh wave of shame washing over her.
“You were House Hermes. It is forbidden to share the secrets of a House’s bloodline with another House. I was bound by an oath.”
Elias’s expression hardened, the excuse of ancient oaths clearly meaning nothing to him. “An oath,” he said, the words clipped and cold. “Is that what you’re hiding behind, Helena? An oath is more important than our daughter’s sanity?”
The confrontation was cut short by the whisper of the chamber doors sliding open. A woman in the simple, grey robes of a Hestia Healer stood in the doorway. Her presence commanded an immediate, respectful silence.
It was Cassandra Reed, the Omega healer who had attended to Cora Ellis after Damon Blackwood’s fall. I wondered if she found any irony in being here, cleaning up another catastrophe caused by House Zeus and House Hera. Then again, perhaps Hestia’s healers were simply immune to such things.
Her calm, empathetic gaze swept over the room, taking in the scene of raw grief and Olympian tension without judgment.
“Andromeda is stable,” she said. “The impact to her head was severe, but we were able to contain the swelling with a combination of Hephaestus-tech and Hestia’s fire. There appears to be no permanent damage. She is resting now and will likely wake within the next few hours.”
A collective, shuddering sigh of relief went through the room. Robert sagged against Elias, the fight finally draining out of him. Even my father’s rigid posture seemed to relax by a fraction. The immediate threat had passed.
But the curse remained.
Cassandra continued to speak, her tone gentle but firm.
“While her physical injuries are mending, her nervous system is… chaotic. It’s a pattern consistent with an Omega who has undergone extreme emotional and psychological distress.
We can keep her sedated, but we can’t heal the underlying cause.
” She looked directly at Helena. “Whatever is happening to her, the source is not physical.”
Her words hung in the air, and it was all the confirmation Helena needed.
The matriarch of House Hera, who had been crumbling under the weight of her guilt, seemed to find a new resolve.
The indecision and shame were burned away, replaced by the hard certainty of a leader making an impossible choice.
She straightened her spine, and all traces of the distraught mother vanished. “Healer Reed,” Helena said. “You will keep her sedated. Do not let her wake.”
Robert’s head snapped up. “What? Helena, no! I want to see her.”
“You will,” Helena said, turning to him, her expression now unreadable. “But not here. Not now.”
She faced Cassandra Reed again, her voice ringing with the weight of an official edict. “Prepare her for transport. I am taking my daughter to Heraion.”