Location: Mt. Olympus
Time Remaining: 31 Years
Nemesis had been told that the Constellar Palace was a place of great beauty, but that was beyond her knowing. Aesthetics concerned Nemesis only so far as they pertained to the necessary arts of deception and manipulation. Objectively, the fortification’s ornate architecture sent a message of power to those that saw it. So few did see it, however, that the decorative details seemed to have been a waste of energy.
What Nemesis did appreciate was the palace's strategic position. High upon Mt. Olympus, the palace was accessible only from the air. It would have been unassailable by human armies at that time, and difficult for even Hades or Poseidon to lay siege to if they turned on their younger brother. Of course, some would say those possibilities were “unthinkable” - despite Poseidon’s considerable power and influence - but when it came to heresy, part of Nemesis’s duty was thinking about what others would not. Ares and Athena might have been responsible for leading Zeus’s armies, but it was within Nemesis’s charge to ensure they had nothing to fight to begin with.
Nemesis alighted on an open air platform, folding her wings in to protect them from the turbulent winds that would have whisked her off her feet. She allowed the light to shine off of her, revealing the bronze-skinned form that her master preferred she present when reporting to the palace. Lights glowed in the marble floor, little balls of blue and white, connected by faint luminous lines – this was Platform Virgo, so she was only a short walk from Zeus’s throne room, where he would be in attendance.
Nemesis’s naked feet made little sound on the marble, quite unlike the distinctive click-click of Hestia and Demeter’s strange shoes as they came down the hallway towards her. Demeter, or Sito potinija, as Peleus had called her, stopped Nemesis with a hand on her shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said without making eye contact.
“For what?”
“Don’t you know?” Hestia gave Nemesis an odd look, much like the one Minia had given her that night.
Demeter simply squeezed Nemesis’s shoulder with her hand. It was an odd feeling. It was strange to her – no one touched her like that. Nemesis didn’t like it because it was a foreign experience, but at the same time she felt something from it – something she couldn’t name. Demeter’s gesture lasted only a moment before she released Nemesis and the two sisters walked on past without another word.
Zeus’s throne room was carpeted with soft, white clouds that rolled across the malachite floor.
Nemesis walked into the room, where Zeus and Hera acknowledged her silently. She prostrated herself at the foot of his throne and reported the events of her mission honestly. Zeus already knew what happened, of course, but he always insisted his servants tell him everything anyway.
“You restored the child’s life?” Zeus asked, seemingly surprised. The white, rolling clouds covering the floor around Nemesis began to darken and roil. Tiny bolts of lightning flickered against the green floor beneath them.
“I killed the child as you commanded,” Nemesis said, “The girl’s heart stopped and the breath left her body.”
“But her soul did not travel to Hades,” Zeus said, “It did not even leave her body, before you restored life to it.”
“If Lord Hades is offended, I shall do whatever you command as recompense.”
“And if I were to command you to go back and finish the job as it was intended?”
Nemesis hesitated for a moment. For some reason the idea of being given that order twisted in her gut. “I told the family that the child’s life was restored at your mercy,” Nemesis explained, “If I were to go kill the child and deliver its soul to Hades, I’m afraid it would… send the wrong message.”
“You are afraid I would send the wrong message?”
“No my lord; that would be impossible. You are never in error,” Nemesis apologized, “But I have communicated your will in such a way that, if I were to do as you command, it would be taken wrong by Peleus and Minia.”
“No, you communicated your will,” Hera said, “and attributed it to your master.”
“It was not my will to restore the child,” Nemesis said reflexively.
“Then whose was it?” Zeus asked.
“I… I do not know. It could not have been my will, though. My only purpose is to serve you as your instrument of divine retribution. To mete out punishment to those who disrespect you, my lord.”
“Tonight seems to suggest otherwise,” Hera said, “And how were you able to restore this child’s life? What gave you that power?”
“It was Zeus’s power that I used; perhaps it was his inspiration that guided my hand in its use?”
Hera looked at Zeus with an expression of doubt, and Zeus simply shrugged. “Perhaps,” he said as the clouds began to calm down again, “Perhaps it was my will, yes. Sometimes I’m wise and compassionate beyond my own understanding.” He laughed and nodded confidently.
Hera spoke to him as if Nemesis was not present, “This is a dangerous precedent,” she said.
Zeus seemed to understand what she was implying, “Maybe good soldiers can’t be made,” he observed.
“It’s a shame,” Hera said, “I've never had better materials to start with, and I did such fine work with it.”
“Oh, yes,” Zeus said, “I’ve appreciated your masterpiece for... what has it been? A century? In fact, I thought perhaps I might… repurpose her?”
“Really? And what do you have in mind to do with it?”
“I thought perhaps we might see how a second generation would turn out.”
“You want to breed it? To put it out to stud?”
“Well, you’re the expert on such matters,” Zeus said, “Do you want all of that raw material to go completely to waste? She still has all of the parts doesn’t she?” he motioned to his servant’s body.
“It does have all the parts needed for reproduction, yes. I considered removing them but I worried it would impact its ability to blend with the humans when necessary.”
Zeus looked at her skeptically, “You can’t honestly tell me you weren’t considering reproduction. I mean, look at her.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Hera said evasively.
“Two eyes, two arms, two legs, two perfectly shaped breasts and round little buttocks – no tentacles, no fangs, no pincers. Not exactly your style, my dear sister.”
“As I said, it was the best material I'd ever been given to work with - turning it into this was an exercise in refining something to perfection, fully realizing its potential. It was like honing a flawless blade or creating a worthy setting for a flawless gem - the goal was elegance, refinement, not excess. Your son would understand."
"Which one?"
"Our son! Hephaestus!" Hera glared at him peevishly, "Remember? The one I was in labor with for two weeks?"
"Oh, you mean the one you threw off the mountain as soon as you saw him."
"He was ugly," Hera said simply.
"Falling eight thousand feet didn't help with that," Zeus grumbled.
"It wasn't eight thousand feet," Hera said, "And when will you let that go? I don't see our son bringing it up at every opportunity!"
"Alright, alright already," Zeus shook his head, "But, you know you could go visit him once and a while...? You two do have a lot in common," Zeus said, "As artists, I mean."
Hera mumbled a barely audible response.
"What was that dear?"
"I said, we were talking about it," she gestured towards Nemesis, "Remember? You were criticizing my artistic choices?"
"I wasn't criticizing," Zeus said, "I’m just saying I appreciate the work you did 'honing the blade,' as it were, and I am considering making full use of it.”
“Ah, I see,” Hera finally nodded. She scrutinized her creation anew, and then turned back to her brother, “Having more of you in it won’t make the next generation less… unpredictable,” she said, “but children birthed and raised in the traditional fashion may be more mentally stable than a creature whose mind was made from scratch. With proper upbringing they may be just as loyal, without the problematic mental gaps created by the cognitive barriers I put in. Very well. Do what you will, brother; I shall be interested to see the results.”
Hera - the closest thing in the world Nemesis had to a mother - stood and walked away, leaving the servant alone with her master. Zeus descended from his throne and circled his servant. Finally he bid her stand. He laid a hand on her shoulder, but it didn’t feel the way it had when Demeter did it.
“Do you understand what’s about to happen?” he asked.
Nemesis’s mind tried to process – second generation, breeding… she understood it in a detached sense, “You will procreate with me, and I will bear your children.”
“Does it excite you? You were created to carry out my will, and now my will is that you open yourself to me fully,” his hand left her shoulder and traveled up her neck. His fingers wrapped around her throat, “Does your master’s touch excite you?”
Nemesis evaluated the questions as best as she was able.
“My function is divine retribution. My purpose is to punish those who offend the gods...” those words were burned into the fabric of her being. Nemesis stopped, almost stumbling at the end, because she realized that something was missing from her parameters.
“And to serve me however I desire…” He caressed her neck with his hand, a gesture which registered as a threat in the tactically oriented portion of Nemesis’s mind. He laid his other hand on her hip and moved it around to grip her from behind, pulling her closer.
“… No.” Nemesis finally said. “That is not part of my purpose. My function is divine retribution. My purpose is to punish those who offend the gods,” Nemesis tried to pull away from him, but he gripped her tightly.
“Well now you’re offending me,” Zeus said, “Don’t you understand how fortunate you are to have this opportunity? Don’t you understand you should be grateful for what I’m about to do? I think maybe you’re in need of some punishment.” Zeus squeezed Nemesis’s throat, restricting the flow of blood to her brain.
Nemesis’s mind locked up on the paradox of having offended her lord. She became trapped in a loop, silently repeating her purpose to herself. It was a far greater distraction than what she had experienced in Tellus and Minia’s home, but this time it was so great that her conscious mind began to shut down, allowing deeply embedded instincts to take full control over her body like a sort of contingency consciousness.
Nemesis’s skin turned fully photonegative, going not only stark black to the naked eye, but also absorbing all of the incoming light that the naked eye couldn’t perceive. In effect, her body became a nearly perfect heat sink. The atmosphere around her condensed and flakes of solid air precipitated as Zeus reeled back, his ordinarily invincible hands burned by the sudden temperature change.
Without thinking, Nemesis extended her talons and slashed at him frantically. She cut him. The wounds in his flesh cracked at the edges, made brittle by the extreme cold. He roared in anger and lashed out with a cascade of lightning that flung Nemesis across the room.
He gripped the bleeding wound in his abdomen, and began trying to heal it. For an instant, Nemesis was cognizant enough to think she should apologize and submit to his punishment, but for reasons she didn’t understand at that moment, she couldn’t do it. Nemesis scrambled to her feet and ran. The stone floors slipped under foot – her body was still so cold it was laying down frost wherever she stepped, so she spread her wings and flew as hard as she could. It was difficult – the cold air contracted, the pressure dropped, and her wings struggled to gain lift, but Nemesis couldn’t seem to control her form; she couldn’t put together the thoughts she needed to warm up, and she couldn’t turn into something else.
Nemesis heard the sound of feet coming from the nearby hallways – Zeus’s guards coming to bring her back to him. She thought, I should surrender, I should submit; it was what my master commanded, but she couldn’t do it – She thought there must be something wrong with her.
Despite her awkward flapping and scrambling, Nemesis made it back to the platform. She still couldn’t get lift, and the guards were closing in, but before she could think to do anything else, she impetuously flung herself off the platform.
It was a long fall.
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