Alexander rarely traveled for excitement.
When he left Asgard, it was usually to walk, to drink something cold, or simply to exist somewhere that wasn't watching him like a legend.
That was how he ended up in a quiet inter-realm tavern—
wooden tables, low music, and absolutely no destiny in sight.
He ordered a glass of fruit juice and sat down.
"…Peace," he muttered.
"Mind if we sit?"
Alexander looked up.
Two women stood before him.
Both beautiful—but not overwhelmingly so.
And that alone was strange.
"…Sure," he said, sipping his drink.
They sat.
A moment passed.
Then Alexander noticed something else.
They weren't looking at him like worshippers.
They were observing him.
"May we ask your name?" one of them asked.
Alexander tilted his head slightly.
"…Before that," he said calmly,
"what are your names?"
The two women exchanged a glance.
"I'm Hera."
"And I'm Aphrodite."
Alexander froze.
Mid-sip.
"…Pfft—"
—COUGH—
Juice sprayed everywhere.
The tavern went silent.
Alexander slammed the glass down, coughing.
"…You're joking," he said hoarsely.
"Right?"
They burst out laughing.
And then—
The disguises faded.
Hera's presence shifted—regal, wounded, proud.
Her appearance resembled a queen forged by hardship.
Aphrodite's aura bloomed—beauty beyond mortal comprehension, sharp and unapologetic.
Alexander stared.
"…Greek Pantheon," he muttered.
He rubbed his face and turned to the tavern owner.
"Alcohol," he said flatly.
"Strong."
The owner nodded immediately.
A Man Who Didn't Fall
Aphrodite watched Alexander carefully.
He hadn't stared in lust.
Hadn't stiffened.
Hadn't even reacted to her aura.
"…Interesting," she murmured.
Hera studied him too.
"You're different," she said quietly.
Alexander took a long drink.
"Trust me," he replied,
"I'm surrounded by women who could rewrite myths just by walking."
That earned a laugh.
He set the glass down.
"Alexander Ashborn Odinson," he said.
"…Unfortunately."
Their expressions changed instantly.
"…The Phoenix Monarch," Aphrodite whispered.
Hera blinked.
"You?"
Alexander shrugged.
"Apparently."
A Story Long Overdue
Alexander leaned back.
"So," he said calmly,
"why are two Greek goddesses sitting in a random tavern instead of Olympus?"
Hera looked away.
Then spoke.
She told him everything.
Zeus's affairs.
The humiliation.
The confrontation.
The divorce.
How Aphrodite—of all people—stood beside her.
How they left.
Alexander listened.
He didn't interrupt.
Didn't judge.
When Hera finished, her hands trembled slightly.
Alexander spoke quietly.
"…You endured all of that."
Hera looked at him.
"You survived," he continued.
"You stood your ground.
You lived through centuries of pain without breaking."
He met her eyes.
"That takes strength."
The words hit harder than thunder.
Hera's breath caught.
Then—
Tears fell.
She turned her face away, shaking.
"…No one has ever said that to me."
Alexander simply sat there.
Aphrodite watched silently, eyes softer than ever before.
An Invitation, Not a Command
After a while, Alexander asked gently,
"…Where are you staying?"
Silence.
They didn't answer.
He nodded, understanding.
"You can come to Asgard," he said simply.
"No obligations. No thrones. No politics."
Hera looked up sharply.
"…Is that allowed?"
Alexander smirked.
"I'm the Phoenix Monarch.
People stopped arguing with my invitations a long time ago."
Aphrodite laughed.
"…You're serious."
"Completely."
They exchanged a look.
Then Hera nodded.
"…Alright."
New Beginnings
That was how Hera and Aphrodite came to Asgard.
Quietly.
Without ceremony.
In the days that followed—
They met Alexander's wives.
There was surprise.
Curiosity.
A little tension.
Then understanding.
For the first time—
Hera slept without resentment.
Aphrodite laughed without manipulation.
And Alexander?
He simply thought—
"…I really can't go anywhere peacefully, can I?"
The universe, as always, did not answer.
But somewhere—
Fate smiled.