I am a siren, the last of my sisters, as far as I know.

I have sat on the same rock for what has seemed like an eternity. The rough surfaces of the rocks scratch against my naked skin but my feet are always protected by the feathers that cover them. I used to have more. I find myself always reaching behind my back and finding the bare skin of my wings, feeling the bones.  I have always taken the time to remember what it was like to fly.

            It wasn’t always like this. We didn’t always have wings, we didn’t always have feathers to keep us warm, and we didn’t always use this island as a sanctuary.

            We were daughters of Achelous, the great God of the river. We quickly showed an interest in the art of music and soon learned the skills required to please any God who would listen. We all took a shine to a specific aspect of the art; one of my sisters would play the lyre, and the other would play the flute. I myself learned to sing. I remember the first time I heard it. The first time I heard music and became enchanted by it, was when I first met Apollo, the God of light and music. I heard his song and was captured by it, determined to live my life by his influence.

            We would practice constantly, always together, never separating from each other. We were determined to become highly skilled as a group and not take the risk of becoming tempted by solo ambition and competitiveness like so many of the other Gods. Each of them had given into temptation and it consumed them entirely. We soon became experts in the art and it wasn’t long before our father made us handmaidens to the Goddess Persephone, one of the Muses.

            Persephone loved to hear our music. She said even the almighty Zeus wouldn’t be able to find anyone else to sing the sweet sound of the highest and lowest notes like our voices sang. Our voices would flow into her ears and deep down into her heart, making her feel content and at peace. However, the God of the Underworld, Hades, soon put an end to that peace.

            He came in the cover of darkness; accustomed to the dark shadows of the Underworld that Zeus had him appointed to. We were not far away from her sleeping body. The nightmare of thick smoke and evil eyes filled my head whilst I slept that night was a warning I chose to ignore. When she was proclaimed missing the next morning, we thought it could not have been anything serious. There were no signs of a struggle and there had been no screams. Being young, we underestimated the God of the Underworld.

            Persephone’s mother, Demeter gave us the task of rescuing her daughter and changed our lives. She gave us the gift of wings. I remember looking down and spotting the first feather to grow out from my skin, just on the outside of my thigh. Then more came, until our legs were like giant birds’. I felt an aching pain on both my shoulder blades, the bones swelling and growing outwards until they formed as wings, as perfect as an eagle’s.

            We all flew in search of Persephone, with no idea of where she could be or if she was even still alive. We searched for what seemed like years, our wings growing tired and our hopes fading with each passing day. There were many others who were asked to search for Persephone. This and our exhaustion and incompetent ability to find any sign of where she was, forced us to admit defeat and we settled on an island called Anthemoessa. The island I’m on now, still.

            Here my sisters and I found peace. We were alone and could do what we always wanted, play our instruments and sing our songs continuously, for as long as we wanted, without worrying what our audience desired to hear. It was the happiest we had ever been.

            I remember I would occasionally leave the island, sometimes for lengthy periods of time, always happy to see my two sisters in the distance when I returned. They would sit on the rocks, around the ones I sit on now. They would wave and smile, eager to hear of my adventures and tell me what I had missed while I was away. We would always sing together, harmonising in a group, eagerly awaiting ships to appear on the horizon. Soon enough a vessel would emerge, the men glancing over the sides to see where our voices were coming from. We would bewilder them, like our vocals were a form of hypnotism. The ship would also become enchanted, sailing closer and closer towards us, until the sea became shallow and the rocks became their demise.

My sisters had golden and vivid red hair, both glimmering in the sun. Although mine shone also, it was too dark to notice, but it never worried me. We had never known what it was like to be cold. When the sun disappeared, the air was still tepid and our long thick hair would always make the night cosy. Then the Muses came and everything changed.

            They hated us for giving up on their sister, Persephone, and they wanted revenge.

            The feathers on our backs were plucked by their own hands. They would laugh amongst themselves like we weren’t there, sniggering how they would make crowns out of them. We were humiliated in the one place we felt safe and happiest and even though we all felt like our world had crumbled into the sea, just like the ships had, our end would be caused by something less powerful than a God or Goddess.

            We continued to bewitch the passing ships, each seeming easier to seduce than the last and rebuilding our confidence that had been so cruelly shattered by the Muses. Then one day we spotted a ship, a ship that looked no different from the many others we had sent crashing into the rocks with our song. This ship was under the command of a man named Jason. His crew, the Argonauts were just like all the other sailors we had seen in our time, weak and submissive to our luring and tempting vocals.

            As we sang higher, capturing the sailors’ attention, Jason called for Orpheus, a talented musician amongst the mortals. He took his lyre in hand and began to play. His voice was closer to the sailors and it soon enchanted them, just like we had moments before. I turned to my sister who also played the lyre and for the first time in my life, I saw fear and confusion in her eyes. The sailors ignored us and listened to Orpheus, who was now singing. His voice was deeper and more peaceful than my own, my eyes filling with tears as my sisters turned to me with hopeful faces, like I was all they had. Jason sailed on, his men continuing to ignore us and leaving us with more humiliation and sadness than what we had already suffered.

            It wasn’t long before my sisters’ distress had overwhelmed them and forced them to throw themselves into the sea, never to be seen again. They had chosen to end their lives whilst I was away from them, collecting flowers further inland on the island, hoping it would help them with their grief. When I returned and saw that they were gone, I knew what had happened and that they had given their lives to the sea. I thought perhaps I should do the same, but then I thought they would’ve waited for me if I was capable of doing such a thing.

            Now I sit here on the rocks where my sisters sat, waiting for passing ships to come and help me overcome my grief. When this will happen, I do not know. 

2: A Champion of Mankind

Prometheus 

Peck. Peck. Peck.

‘Let them eat their flesh raw’.

Those were the words of Zeus, almighty Zeus, spoken to the mortals that dwelled on the ground, far below the splendour of the high palace where his righteous rump would rest all day. Amusing how he would eat those words as his own damned eagle feasts upon my flesh from sunrise to sunset.

The eagle, an emblem of his supremacy in this world, eagerly waits every night on the rocks close to me, watching with its bright golden eyes, until the sun finally rises and my abdomen is regenerated. Its sharp beak snips and pecks at my skin. A stinging pain at first, but the layers beneath feel more intense, the more the eagle feasts. It begins slowly, as if it’s not sure it will like what it tastes. By the time it reaches my liver it pulls and tears like a lion that hasn’t eaten in days.

It never tires, it never seems to satisfy its hunger and it never, ever, grows bored of the same cuisine.

Peck. Peck. Peck.

I am Prometheus, the creator of humans. Some call me a champion of mankind, but before I was either I was once an ally of Zeus and the other Olympians. Ally I was, despite the treatment the king of the gods bestowed upon two of my brothers. Creator I was and champion I may be, but an immortal chained to Kazbek Mountain to be tortured for eternity is not a fitted fate for one with so many prestigious titles.

It had not always been like this. Zeus and I did not always have a turbulent relationship. Long ago, when his father Cronus declared war against his own son and Olympus, my brother Epimetheus and I sided with the gods. I took me time to convince my brother to reconcile with the Olympians, considering the past our family had.

Our brother Atlas had built a great city, secluded on an island in the middle of the sea with no other land in sight from its shores. The people where strong and good, independent in nature and worked for the resources they needed to survive. Many times I had made mankind and each time Zeus had found some excuse to destroy them, usually because he grew jealous of their fast advancement and he somehow felt threatened from his high, rocky and unreachable throne. He believed the people of Atlantis had grown greedy and cruel, another excuse, and with his infamous wrath he wiped Atlantis off the face of the earth. The high waves washed over the city, the people disappeared and the city’s great stone buildings sank into the sea, lost to the deep and dark abyss.

My brothers Atlas and Menoetis managed to escape, barely. Out of hatred for Zeus’ actions they joined Cronus, a titan whose disdain for the king of Mount Olympus exceeded their own.

I followed Zeus in battle, against Cronus and my brothers. I supported his cause and his gods because I knew they would win.  I pledged my allegiance to the man who wished my brothers dead. When the battle was over, Zeus was triumphant and my brothers were doomed.

Menoetis was struck with one of Zeus’ lightning bolts and his body was cast down to Tartarus. Atlas suffered a less merciful fate for disobeying Zeus a second time. He was forced to carry the heavens for eternity on his shoulders, supporting his king’s illustrious abode until a better contender came along. Epimetheus and I had to endure the guilt of remaining allies with the man who killed one or our brothers and forced eternal torture on the other.

I had done many things in my existence, most at Zeus’ bidding, both extraordinary and terrible. My greatest was mankind.

Peck. Peck. Peck.

I remember forming the first out of clay, perfecting such delicate masterpieces with my own long and slender fingers. Athena had taken great interest in my work and wished to aid me in their progression on the ground below us. Together we introduced them to mathematics, and astronomy, to understand the skies and tell future generations our stories, as well as their own. With such skills, they could immortalise any being in existence so their descendents could picture the glory and fates of all. We taught them navigation to use the stars to their advantage and travel to new worlds. I showed them architecture to build temples and monuments commending the gods they obeyed and to remind them of their place. We gave them medicine to heal their sick and injured.

Zeus, along with others, did not understand or approve of this.  He would whine and complain that I was being overindulgent. He said if you give too much to someone or something inferior to you, it will only grow greedy and overconfident. Sometimes he would ask me how long it would be before they overestimated themselves and become bold enough to climb Olympus and attempt to take it from their masters. Despite their development being entirely their own, I had no loss of pride for what they had achieved and the unlimited potential they possessed. I found their ambition and determination fascinating, they had more courage and appreciation in life because they knew it would one day end, unlike us who dwelled above them.

He never complained when he travelled down to their level to spread his seed in countless women in the disguise of a mortal man. He would take his pleasure, leave them pregnant with half-breeds growing inside them, then return home and complain of the ‘rat-hole’ he felt compelled to visit so often. He fathered so many children with mortal women, abandoning his proud wife Hera who could only watch, grow jealous and become resentful.

Zeus would often laugh at my masterpieces, calling them pathetic and weak, slaves to their own desires and pride. It would aggravate and baffle me at the same time, to know that despite his words, he would take their form, walk amongst them and sleep with their women.

I believe Zeus secretly enjoyed meddling in the affairs of mortals. He looked upon them as playthings, inferior little toys he’d use to amuse himself, then trample on them like a child does on ants when his amusement had faded. I soon grew tired of Zeus’ attitude towards the mortals, my creations, my greatest achievements.

In the town of Sicyon I suffered my moment of weakness. Much like my precious creations, the gods can too lose their senses.

Peck. Peck. Peck.

On this day in Sicyon a bull was to be sacrificed and offered to both the gods and the mortals. It was me who made the offering, flaying the animal and sewing the hide to make two bags, each containing the offerings. It was in this moment I decided to make an example of my king. One bag I filled with flesh but I concealed it beneath a thick layer of the stomach, the least appealing part of an animal. Any god would refuse this bag, repulsed by the idea of consuming such a thing. The other bag was filled with the bull’s bones, hidden by a layer of the animal’s fat. I filled it with a smirk on my face, knowing Zeus would choose the wrong bag and be humiliated in front of the pests he despised so much.

The mortals and I laughed at Zeus’ foolishness, even the great and powerful king of the gods could be tricked so easily at the expense of those he had insulted for so long. I knew he wouldn’t find the incident amusing but it had only been a small trick and others had committed worse crimes towards him and suffered worse fates.

His rage was immense. The earth shook as the blood boiled in his veins and his cheeks flushed red. His eyes sparked with fire, the fire I had strove to provide the mortals and better their way of life. The fire Zeus believed to be too powerful to give them.

It was foolish to believe I could do such a thing to the king of the gods and not suffer for it but it was more foolish to think he would allow the mortals to go unpunished.

‘Let them eat their flesh raw’, he raged. No one escapes Zeus’ wrath.

Peck. Peck. Peck.

He took the fire away, the fire I had given to them. That night the mortals went hungry, as did I. Some ate the raw meat but most chose to starve. I joined in their misery but it was nothing compared to the shame and guilt I felt for their misfortune. It was my fault, I had made them, given them so much and was the reason it had all been taken away. It was my duty to get it back. I had given them fire once and I vowed to return it to them, one way or another.

I turned to the only person who was still on my side, the one person who could grant me access into Mount Olympus. I pleaded to Athena to allow me entry, unnoticed. The goddess of wisdom agreed to help me, her knowledge exceeded all understanding and I have always believed she already knew the consequences of my actions that night. 

I snuck into the illustrious kingdom and found the fiery chariot of Helios. It was the first time I saw it up close. It was surprisingly minimal for something that lifted the sun and lit up the sky and world. It was responsible for giving life to nature and to people and it had only a step for Helios to stand on, supported by two wheels. Its appearance was decadent true enough, but it became clear to me that perhaps not all the gods were as ostentatious and conceited as Zeus.

As I stepped closer I heard the shouts and laughs of others nearby. I guessed the gods were being entertained by Dionysus and his special goblets of wine that never seemed to empty. I had known his parties to be long and messy. They were close but the evening was late and by then their attentions would be elsewhere. I couldn’t fail the mortals now, if I did then who would save them?

I broke off a fragment of glowing charcoal and placed it inside the hollow of a giant fennel stalk, burning my fingers slightly. The pain was sharp and stung but thanks to my heritage I knew I wouldn’t scar. It would’ve been a small price to pay if it had.

I had returned fire to the mortals, warning them that the consequences would be great. Many were still thankful but others cursed me for bringing them more trouble. We all knew Zeus would take revenge, not just on me but the mortals too. He would know it was me who invaded his kingdom and took what was his but he would also know how much regard I had for the people I created. He would punish them out of spite just to cause me more harm. He didn’t realise how much support mankind had from some of the gods and how they were educating them in the art of warfare. Soon enough they would be able to take care of themselves.

Peck. Peck. Peck.

There was no reaction at first, at least there didn’t seem to be. The fact that Zeus had done nothing made me nervous. He was a man infamous for losing his temper far too quickly and would never take a single moment to think before his rage took over and cause utter chaos.

I warned my brother Epimetheus to avoid the gods and to not accept anything they may offer, in case Zeus had decided to take a more subtle approach. He informed me of an offer made by Hermes, who had brought before him a young woman, a woman that had not been made by me but by another. I knew the only other person who could create such work was Hephaestus, the grotesque and unfavoured child of Hera. Her name was Pandora and she was as lovely as the dawn Helios would spread across the sky with his chariot and winged stallions. My brother would describe how beautiful she was and I found it concerning how a god as ugly as Hephaestus could make something as exquisite as her. He said Hermes had brought her as a gift from Zeus and had refused him, as tempted as he was to accept.

It was when the king of the gods struck, only this time it wasn’t with a lightning bolt.

Peck. Peck. Peck.

He proclaimed me a traitor and banished me to the Caucasian Mountains, where he bound me to the highest rock with special chains made by the bastard son Hephaestus. The boy evidently had his uses. Zeus told me he would not insult any of his children or siblings by demanding that they watch over someone as insignificant as me so instead he placed an eagle on guard, to watch over me for eternity. The poor bird.

My creations knew my honourable deeds but Zeus insisted that my entry into Olympus that night had not been permitted by any person. In his opinion I snuck in to force myself onto Athena, a great woman known for her virtue and honesty and to desecrate his sacred kingdom.

I now hang here for rest of my days, the eagle pecking endlessly at my skin and feeding its never ending appetite. The tearing of my flesh has become such a familiar sound to me, along with the flapping of the eagle’s wings and its golden eyes glaring at me, dark with not a flicker of remorse inside them.

Peck. Peck. Peck.

It never ends. The pain of being ripped open and the insides torn out piece by piece. The blood oozing out of the first scratches, then flowing once the liver is almost completely gone. Then the night comes, the cold and frosty winds hit my body like a whip lashing against the skin of a slave. My liver regenerates and my flesh grows back, the skin finally sewing itself back together by the time Helios guides the sun up into the sky over the horizon.

It has been years since I stole fire from Zeus and I know in my heart mankind has forgotten about me, the generations I once knew now lay dead and buried, their flesh withered away and never returning like mine. I don’t feel sorry for myself, neither do I regret my actions because I created something Zeus can never take away. Mankind linger on, growing more ambitious and powerful every day, despite their flaws, woes and fears. They are my greatest creations and the important thing is that they survive. I may be a champion of mankind, but I will never be one of them. 

Peck. Peck. Peck. 

3: A Woman Scorned

Hera

Everyone has a favourite place, a place where they go for comfort, safety and salvation. Athena once told me that even the wildest of hearts require peace. Every heart can fill with anger and soon it becomes a ticking clock and the scariest part is that no one can know how much time is left. The goddess of wisdom had told me this in her days of youth and myself being much older and stubborn in my ways I chose to ignore her. I have always believed myself to be in control of my own actions.

The only place I have ever found peace was Arcadia, where I had been taken to be raised after being separated from my mother Rhea. It was arranged for me to be raised by The Seasons, three young and beautiful women who possessed the ability to control the seasons of the world. A young child would have been terrified of losing their mother so soon but I had not known anything different. I couldn’t picture my mother’s face or remember her voice and you cannot miss something you never had.

I embraced the three Seasons as I grew up into a young woman. The secluded upbringing I had prevented me from meeting anyone new but I couldn’t fathom any woman matching their beauty. The glow of the summer sun reflected in their eyes and the warm tones of autumn swept across their skin. When winter came their lips would turn a pale pink, matching their flushed and well defined cheek bones. Their skin became as white as snow and if you looked closely enough you could see snowflakes fall in their pupils.

I have become enchanted by them. They would take me into the woods and make flower headdresses and style my hair in a way I had never seen before, each time being completely different from the last. I would sit by the springs, listening to them tell me stories of brave warriors and heroes and I would feel my heart skipping a beat every time they whispered that sometimes they passed through the forest whilst on their epic journeys. In the evenings we would lie on our backs and watch the night sky and I would laugh at their bickering over where they chose to place the stars and constellations.

It was a simple life but I fully embraced it. Most young women seek the thrill of adventure but the goddess of marriage, women and birth had more responsibilities and a reputation to uphold. I knew one day I would have to marry and my choice of husband would be a crucial one. If I was to endorse the virtues and vows of marriage I would need to be loyal and honourable.

I often dreamed what my future husband would be like. The Seasons had told me so many depictions of true and just men, the kinds which were also very handsome. Soon enough my betrothed would arrive but he was not what I expected.

Zeus, my twin brother, had recently banished our father Cronus and he had made it his next endeavour to make me his wife. We were separated at birth and the young and naive girl I once was imagined her future husband to be someone entirely different.

He appeared older than he was, his face covered with deep lines from his constant frowning and gritted teeth. His eyes were filled with fire and determination and a thick brown beard hung long, down to his chest. He was not the gentle hero I had pictured in my mind for so many years. I attempted to discourage his efforts to court me but the more I refused the more persistent he became. Zeus never gave up on anything his wanted.

One day I found myself undisturbed by Zeus and I foolishly thought it was because he had given up his pursuit of me. I’ll always remember the strong sense of relief and decided to venture out into the forest on my own and enjoy my solitude.  I came across a cuckoo bird, which lay on the grass helplessly, its bedraggled feathers half pulled out and its wings cruelly bend out of shape. My heart began to ache. I couldn’t understand what kind of creature would do such a thing and leave it there to die for no good reason. I picked it up and tenderly held it close to my chest, trying to keep it warm.

Suddenly the cuckoo bird disappeared and I found myself in the bulky arms of my twin brother, his grip so tight I struggled to breathe. I tried to escape his grasp but his strength was unmatched and his fury made him more determined. He ripped off my clothes in seconds and ravaged me as the sun approached its zenith, the bright rays blinding my eyes as I looked up. I tried to focus my attention away from what was happening to my body but nothing could distract me enough and to this day nothing can help me forget.

The goddess of women’s virtue had been spoiled, contaminated by the smell of my brother all over me. I spent hours in the waters of the forest, trying to cleanse myself of any remnant of him. I scrubbed my skin so hard it turned pink and sore but I could still feel something crawling underneath, a memory refusing to leave my thoughts. My virginity had been taken from me and I had no choice but to marry the king of Mount Olympus.

The wedding was a grand affair, Zeus adamant on a long and joyous occasion, despite such a dire beginning to our relationship. All the gods attended the celebrations, even some of the titans, forgiven by their king despite rebelling against him. We spent our wedding night on Samos, the island where I was born and it lasted for three hundred years.

On the first night he took me to the spring of Canathus, the most beautiful spring I ever saw. The water was so calm and serene, and it felt like no one had set foot there before. It was as if it was my own private sanctuary, made just for me, the perfect gift from a new husband. It was then my husband told me of the spring’s purpose. It was unique, made to help me keep my virtue intact, renewing my virginity every time I bathed in it.

In that moment, when I first stepped into the spring and submerged myself into the hot, pure water I realised my husband’s true intentions. This was how he liked his wife, innocent, untouched and his alone. He did not marry me for love, in fact, I doubt he even enjoy my company. I was there to provide his children, to amuse him when he grew bored of his mortal whores or needed advice on how to punish his enemies.

We both held a desire for power but that was all we had in common. We didn’t agree on anything and at times when we tried to involve other people to try to remedy the situation but it only made things more difficult. A priest of Zeus, Tiresias, once had the misfortune of being in the middle of one of our debates. As a young man, he seen two snakes mating and hit them with a stick. This transformed him into a woman and he then became a priestess, serving yours truly. After seven years passed, she saw two snakes mating again and hit them once more, turning him male again. Zeus and I had gotten into another heated debate, this time about which gender experienced more pleasure during sex. Zeus was convinced it was women whilst I knew it was actually men. It made sense, it would have explained why men felt the need to spread their seed so often with as many women as possible, without showing any concern whist doing it. The only person who could settle this debate was Tiresias and when he confirmed it was in fact women, I struck him blind in anger. Zeus gave him the gift of prophecy out of spite and because he was the first person to agree with one of his opinions.

This was how it was. He sometimes listened to what I had to say, came to my bed when I enticed him and confided in me whenever I desired to know his dark secrets. Sometimes Aphrodite would lend me her girdle, whenever Zeus hadn’t visited my bed in a while but I soon became frustrated that I had to resort to such means to have my husband to myself.

At first his affairs where distant and unknown to me but after so many successful seductions he became more confident and boastful about them. One afternoon the nymph Echo visited me, praising my beauty and grace and telling me stories of her kind. This visit became frequent, too frequent for my liking. One day I evaded her and I went to find my husband. It was then I discovered he had been sleeping with the mountain nymphs whilst Echo had been visiting me. Aphrodite once told me a woman’s intuition was the best to follow and she turned out to be right. I confronted Echo, cursing her for committing such an offence towards Zeus’ queen. I made her repeat every word she heard spoken and nothing more for eternity and I told her that way she could cause no more trouble.

I am ashamed to say that was only the start. After my anger had faded days later, I wondered if I had been too harsh on Echo, but I was too stubborn to admit my wrongdoings. Regardless of his motives, Zeus had made me his queen and with that title came a demand of devotion and respect. I may have expected disfavour from the male gods but I drew the line at the women. I was their patron, their goddess, a symbol of womanhood for them to aspire to and admire. My husband may get away with it but I would not be made a fool out of by anyone else.

My patience finally reached an end when I discovered my husband’s liaisons with mortal women. I soon heard of a woman named Leto, who had fallen pregnant with his child. The rage I felt when I was told was enough to shake the foundations of Mount Olympus. I never loved Zeus but I expected loyalty from him, the same loyalty I had shown him since he took me for the first time in the forest. He had tricked me, forced me to renew myself and humiliated me with his lustful endeavours. This time I became too furious to pretend I didn’t care. I banned Leto from giving birth on land, hoping the child would eventually die inside her. Poseidon betrayed me by taking her to the floating island of Delos, defying my wishes. I then kidnapped Eileithyia, the goddess of childbirth, however in a moment of weakness I was bribed to let her go after being offered the most beautiful necklace I had ever seen.

Zeus continued to spread his seed throughout his kingdom. He went on to bed Demeter and once again my anger clouded my judgement and actions. I sent the titans to rip the baby apart once I heard the boy had been born. Zeus had already predicted my behaviour and saved the boy’s heart and gave it to a woman called Semele to impregnate her. He recreated his son and implanted him inside her womb. When he was born he was named Dionysus the ‘twice born’.

This wasn’t the worst I have behaved. Once I began my journey down this vengeful course it became impossible to stop. I had a taste of sweet revenge and I am ashamed to say I enjoyed it. It gave me satisfaction to see Zeus’ temper soar when he didn’t get what he wanted. It was like seeing a child throw his toys around and scream till he was blue in the face. When fell in love with Lamia, the queen of Libya, I turned her into a monster that ate her own children and drove her mad. The biggest reaction I got from him was being struck by one of his thunderbolts but the first time was the hardest, after that it became easier to handle. I almost pitied him for not thinking of other imaginative ways of punishing me.

I was a  woman possessed. I had grown tired of Zeus’ infidelities and punishments when I had reacted no differently than any other woman would have. He had become too proud and every god had become uncomfortable having him around and listening to his constant rants. One night we had all arranged to sneak into his chambers whilst he slept and bound him with rawhide thongs, tying them into a hundred knots. When he woke and realised what we had done, his eyes filled with the fire of Prometheus. His face turned red and he shook violently to free himself. He threatened us with the usual words, but we made sure to move his thunderbolts from his presence. The more he struggled and shouted in fury the more humorous it became.

We celebrated for several hours, discussing the possible successors to the throne of Olympus. It was whilst we revelled that Thetis the Nereid plotted against us and devised a plan to free our prisoner. He had located a man named Briareus, who had a hundred hands. He untied the knots and Zeus was set free.

I was to receive the worst punishment he could have given me and I would only suffer it once in my life. As I had led the conspiracy, it was I who suffered the most unpleasant of penalties. My husband used a golden bracelet to hang me from the skies by my wrists with an anvil fastened to my ankles. I could feel the pity from the other gods as they watched me from below, my skin stretched and my bones aching. I knew some would have wanted to help me but I understood they couldn’t. It took an oath of allegiance from all the gods to convince Zeus to release me and we all swore to never rebel against him again.

The way Zeus treated me made me forget what it was like to be happy and my determination to make him unhappy made me make others miserable unintentionally. In one moment of weakness, after Zeus’ numerous affairs, I allowed another man into my bed, Talos. From this I bore a son called Hephaestus. Not only was I ashamed of bearing a bastard child, I had also become a hypocrite. I was the goddess mortals worshipped for virtue and fidelity and I had brought an illegitimate son into the world. His appearance was grotesque, so much I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I came to believe this was my fault for cheating on my husband and disobeying my king. I thought the only way to save myself was to throw my son off Mount Olympus. I was a coward and selfish and more interested in saving my own skin instead of accepting my responsibilities as a mother. I already had two children, Ares and Hebe, I should’ve known better than to treat my own son like a monster.

My opinion of men had lowered considerably. My husband was not the dashing hero the Seasons had encouraged me to hope for and his male followers had shown no glimmer of contrast as they bent their knees to him and licked his boots like dogs. When I found out Zeus had  a new son, Heracles, I took the opportunity to make him suffer the way I knew I couldn’t do with Zeus. What pushed me was when Zeus tricked me once again, this time into nursing Heracles, not informing me what he was. Once I found out I pulled him from my breast, a spurt of my milk making a smear across the sky. Out of spite I sent two snakes to the baby boy’s bed, however he strangled them with his tiny bare hands. I had underestimated my new enemy.

When the infant became a man and embarked on his labours, I conjured up ways to make sure he would fail or with any luck, die trying. When he visited the Amazons, I would make up lies and rumours to stir them up against him, resulting in them demanding his departure. When he battled the Hydra, I sent crabs to bite his feet and distract him. I even refused a sacrificial bull, hunted by Heracles and given to Eurystheus, simply for the fact that such an act would reflect glory on my husband’s bastard son.

When he tried to lead the cattle of Geryon, I sent a gadfly to irritate them with their bites, forcing them all to separate and scatter across the fields. In the end I sent a flood, the water levels rising so that the cattle could not cross the river. Heracles managed to evade all my efforts of destruction. One day I pushed him so far he shot me in the breast with a triple-barbed arrow. The pain was unbearable and even the best care could not cure the wound.

We had done such fowl things to each other that we both knew it would take something grand to provide any glimmer to hope for a remedy to our relationship. A giant named Porphyrion followed me once and attempted to rape me once I was alone. Heracles was close by, trying to find me and make amends. WW

With his aid I was safe from harm and the giant was defeated. It was in that moment when I knew that perhaps my negative opinion on the male race wasn’t accurate. He explained to me how his name was based on my own, and he was named in my honour, despite everything I had done to prevent his birth and the welfare of his father and mother. There were no words I could find to explain my actions towards him and the only way I could express my gratitude was to offer my daughter Hebe in marriage.

I find myself now staying clear to the ground the mortals live their lives, dwelling mostly on Mount Olympus. One place I do go is Arcadia, the lush forest where I had been raised by the Seasons. They are the only people I feel at peace with, the people who knew me so well before anyone else did, before even I did. Since my twin brother came to take me away, I had become a mean and cruel woman, regardless of how or why. I took vengeance on those who betrayed me or insulted me and what I stood for. With the Seasons I felt like my old self again, the woman who was never angry, bitter or resentful. No one came to find me or take me away ever again and I find myself spending more and more time here. This is my favourite place and I don’t ever want to leave.