Forty-nine full days later, after the God-King had deeply sown the seeds of "method" and "success" upon the road of wisdom, the boundless auspicious portents at last began to slowly fade.
The wisdom goddess, wholly content, lounged lazily against her beloved God-King's thunderous chest—solid as the pillars of the cosmos.
Supreme, complete wisdom had in that moment received its utmost fulfillment and deepest solace.
For she could clearly feel, within her belly, that treasured one of her dreams being borne in peace.
Granted, she and her beloved God-King's children were already into double digits…
But with this one, it was directly a son!
And the incomparably noble second son of the God-King—no loss there.
Indeed, in Metis's view, it might be a partiality deeper in meaning, and more evidently wise, than "the first."
The God-King's firstborn, Hephaestus, holds "how to create"; His second son, Boros, will hold "how to succeed."
The former is the beginning of "technique," the latter the guide of "the way."
And in the deepest divine union, the wisdom goddess could most truly feel her beloved God-King's most sincere, deepest love for her.
Because of love, her beloved God-King had poured lavishly into her a wealth of authorities and excellent qualities.
This child in her womb would be born holding that which all beings pursue most ardently—the greatest of authorities!
Enrichment, method, opportunity, adaptability, success, abundance!
A full six core authorities, complementary, in one lineage, a closed-loop complete system!
Her dear child would continue to be borne in her for twelve months, ever gathering more divine power.
When born, even compared to that baby in Hera's belly, by estimation the difference would be slight at most.
The God-King's love for her was beyond words.
Greedy, but not that greedy, the wisdom goddess felt unspeakably satisfied with all she had now.
For the time being…
Not long after the God-King had sunk again into the ocean-daughter's sea-like gentleness, in another long-silent temple on Olympus, a great goddess who had been in slumber opened at last those green eyes that held endless vitality.
Within that temple, a silent great miracle reached its end.
The authorities of "agriculture," "growth," "lushness," "harvest," "abundance," and a portion of "cyclic return" had been thoroughly integrated.
In the truest, indisputable sense—the Mother of the Earth! Demeter!—had awoken!
Joy beyond compare filled the heart of the Mother of the Earth, whose power and divinity were now complete.
She could scarcely wait to share this perfect glory with her beloved God-King.
And… she scarcely could wait for the expectation of fully, truly joining with her beloved God-King.
Yet when she, rushing like a green stream of light from the hall, was about to go directly to seek her beloved God-King, her form halted.
She lifted her eyes toward Olympus's firmament, and that soft smile—enough to make a hundred flowers pale—suddenly froze upon her face.
Across the whole sky over Olympus, those dazzling golden auspicious clouds that signified the God-King were rolling and mingling with the auroral glow that signified wisdom.
She could clearly feel that within the golden clouds and the glow, a child was being borne.
And it was a god-son!
That sensation stabbed her heart like the sharpest icicle.
To wake and see this scene—Demeter's expression grew truly unsightly.
An ominous premonition rose at once in her chest; she felt her plans had all shattered.
In an instant she fell from the greatest joy to the coldest Underworld; even her divinity reeled.
She forced herself steady, face tight, and at once opened the divine network's messages, hurriedly scanning on the public channel for what great matters she had missed of late.
"Eurynome is established as the God-King's fifth wife; the three Graces are born—"
"That's a small matter—don't panic." Seeing this line, Demeter could still keep calm.
But the next oracle-announcement was like a heavy hammer, smashing hard upon her heart,
thundering through her whole being like a lightning-strike and casting her straight into an ice cave.
"The most high Great Father God, Zeus, has joined with the most sovereign Great Mother Goddess, Hera; the God-King's firstborn, the god of 'creating all things,' Hephaestus, is being borne in the womb of the goddess of Procreation!"
Demeter felt the world spin; at once she grew both furious and anxious, her eyes reddening in an instant.
She bit her pearly teeth and stamped hard.
"BOOM—!!!"
The whole Mount Olympus shook violently; flowered groves and grasses rolled at once like a sorrowful sea.
Demeter turned to go back to her temple, to hide herself deep.
But as soon as she turned, her steps stopped again.
She stared blankly at the Temple of Procreation not far from her, then shot a fierce glare at the Temple of Wisdom still veiled in golden clouds and rainbow glow; upon her softest rosy face clouds crossed sun.
Her gaze tightened, silver teeth bit down, and at last she made up her mind—she turned and shot as a streak of light straight toward the nearby Temple of Fire.
With the rich scent of harvest-wheat, the softest Demeter, with a wailing gust of wind, rushed heedlessly into that forever-warm temple.
The surging divine power sent the eternal holy flame within to flicker wildly.
Sparks crackled; tongues of flame wavered like cast fireworks bursting in the air—or like… tears flung wide.
This made Hestia, who had been quietly watching the newborn humans in the holy fire, start in surprise.
She looked up, but before she could speak, that gentlest younger sister had already thrown herself into the warmest, most broad bosom of the Warm Fire.
"Sob… Hestia, my dearest sister, y-you must take my part—Zeus… Zeus, He—"
In the end Demeter could get nothing out, both wronged and at a loss.
She could only press her cheek deep into Hestia's warm embrace and weep in muffled sobs until her shoulders trembled.
Hestia held her dear sister tenderly; her alabaster hand lightly stroked Demeter's field-green long hair, gently, again and again.
In her eyes there was endless fondness and heartache—and a hint of knowing helplessness.
She knew this day would surely come.
Other gods might not understand this seemingly gentle younger sister—but she, the elder, could not?
This younger sister was the gentlest and most delicate—and the most strong-willed and resolute.
She was compliant and harmonious, yet never lacked a goddess's willfulness and pride.
Her kindness and mercy were real as a bountiful plain.
Yet her devotion to what she truly valued was as bedrock beneath that plain—unshakable.
And though in ordinary matters she was generous, never stingy with any goods or treasures,
where it touched what she truly valued, her heart could not be made broad.
And what her younger sister had always loved and cherished most was Zeus.
All Olympus knew it, let alone she, the elder.
The three sisters had always shared one breath and one branch, advancing and retreating together.
Even in love, the one they loved was the same God-King.
As for the other many goddesses, her good sister Demeter had never held them in her eyes.
Even if those goddesses got in first and became the God-King's wives, she still did not care.
After all, in this world, what goddess could be closer to Zeus than the three of them?
Hestia's thought differed not a whit from Demeter's.
Indeed, even Hera—her struggle was fidelity and love, a principle to keep.
But truly speaking, she did not think any other goddesses could compare with the three sisters.
In Demeter's heart, whatever the process, in the end those who stood at Zeus's side and formed with Him a closest family of gods could only be the three sisters.
Therefore, the one goddess she truly fretted over and always saw as her greatest rival for Zeus's favor had been only one from beginning to end—their little sister, Hera!
A family of gods is naturally the closest—but since it is a family, naturally there are degrees of closeness!
Zeus had never hidden His partiality for Hera.
It was the kind of partiality and pampering that, at a glance, could stir envy in any goddess's heart.
Only, before this, it was always Hera who was "refusing" Zeus.
And Demeter herself had not yet become the God-King's wife; with so many outside foes, she could still press down that anxiety for a while and pretend not to see it.
But after she had succeeded in becoming Zeus's wife, she was already rolling up her sleeves, ready for a proper war—to cut down all other goddesses and bring her beloved Zeus wholly into her arms!
As for Hera—
Well, she had already gotten the jump as wife!
A younger sister ought to behave like a younger sister!
As for elder sister Hestia—how could the warmest flame vie with her younger sister?
Everything had been proceeding smoothly according to her most perfect plan.
She had become her beloved Zeus's wife and had fully completed her authority, rising to Mother of the Earth, who governs all growth and abundance!
Only, for the time being, she could not join with her beloved Zeus—she had first to integrate her authority to completion.
But she had long since made up her mind: once the integration was done, she would at once possess her beloved Zeus!
Zeus had no son yet—then it must be she who first bore Zeus the strongest, dearest son!
As for Titan goddesses and the Lady of Night—they could all step aside!
So long as she could first capture her beloved Zeus's heart and bear Him the irreplaceable firstborn—
then even Hera, the little sister, could hardly possess more of Zeus's love than she, could she?
In the end it had all been planned so well.
She had but slept a short while; the time was not long—yet upon walking out, the sky… had collapsed!
One or two more wives for Zeus—that was not much.
That Eurynome—too gracious and compliant by temperament—was no concern at all.
But how had Hera accepted Zeus?!
Not only accepted—already achieved consummation!
The true consummation!
A flower had bloomed and borne fruit—the most precious fruit sat safe in her belly!
That God-King's firstborn she had longed for and schemed for through uncounted ages had fallen into her little sister's lap!
I clearly came first… I came first…
And then, looking up again, Demeter could plainly feel that Zeus's second son would fall into Metis's, that ocean-daughter's, belly as well!
Daughters of Ocean—with no shame! You even go as sisters together!
Er… take that back.
Demeter was on the verge of tears with rage.
No—she had already burst into angry tears.
The thing she feared most had still happened.
Little sister Hera had accepted Zeus and already, truly, was carrying Zeus's firstborn son.
Then… hereafter, she feared she could never, ever surpass her.
Who could have guessed that in merely a little slumber to integrate authority—upon waking, the whole world had turned upside down!
Thinking thus, how could Demeter not be both anxious and angry—so wronged her heart could break.
She thought and thought and at last decided she could only find the elder sister who loved her best—Hestia.
Hestia was also the one Zeus respected and honored most; she must let Hestia uphold justice for her!
All of this Hestia saw clearly and had long expected.
Earlier, when Zeus and Hera had united, she had been glad that Demeter was asleep.
This younger sister's temper would surely have to make a scene.
Not to the point of irreparable disaster—the sisters' love would not be broken by this.
But once this good sister's little temper started, it truly gave the gods a headache.
And as expected, when the good sister woke up, she came at once to make a fuss.
Hestia felt the high, abundant fullness before her had been soaked through with her good sister's tears.
As the embodiment of flame, she did not much like this damp, sticky feeling.
But she ached more for her wronged, pitiful sister, and quickly lifted her face gently to wipe away the tears that kept flowing.
As she wiped, she soothed in the softest voice: "Demeter, my dearest treasure—what is this? What has taken the color from such a gentle face?"
"Cry no more. Whatever it is, tell your sister slowly. I will surely uphold justice for you! Did that rascal Zeus do something again to make you sad?"
Demeter had been only sniffling softly, but upon hearing this protecting question full of support from Hestia, her lips worked—and she could not speak a word.
How could she put it?
Was she to say she was jealous of her little sister Hera for getting Zeus's love first?
Or complain that her beloved Zeus had not waited for her, had not borne a firstborn son with her?
However she said it, it would be wrong.
Eating vinegar over her own little sister—better said or left unsaid, her chest was blocked all the same.
Letting Hestia take the lead for her—still less proper.
After all, the core of this "justice" she wanted upheld was jealousy of a sister and complaint against a beloved God-King—how could she speak it?
And in such a matter, not even the dearest elder sister Hestia could take her part!
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