Greek Universe.
Overworled.
Hera sat upon the golden throne of Olympus, her slender fingers pressed against her temple as she sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
The once-proud Queen of the Underworld, goddess of marriage, protector of the underworld order, and symbol of majesty, now found herself drowning beneath a mountain of paperwork, petitions, and complaints that could rival the weight of Atlas's burden itself.
The soft glow of the marble hall did little to soothe her growing irritation. It only served to illuminate the chaos she had inherited.
When Hades and the others had departed to assist the Norse, he had looked at her with that calm, confident expression of his and said, "You're the most dependable one, Hera. Olympus will be in good hands. I trust you and your abilities."
She should have known then that he was setting her up.
