The tale of Hera

No one has ever told my story before. Neither the artful voice of the minstrel of Ithaca nor the lascivious voices of the sirens, who sit on the rocks and seduce the sailors. As they were not worthy to tell my story, I did not allow them.

 

I am well aware of the rumors and infamy about me in Olympus and the human world. They are nothing but mere amusement. The gods always need entertainment, so they have left it for themselves to tear apart and chew as they please.

 

Now, I intend to speak the truth. Despite countless rumors, I wish to tell a story that no one has told before. Why now? Because at this point, as the glory of the Olympian gods is coming to an end, I’ve come to realize that the only vessel capable of telling my story is my own voice.

 

Hence, this is my tale. A story rewritten solely from my own perspective.

 

It is a tale of war between Gaia and Zeus, while simultaneously serving as an elegy to my friend Metis. It is a discourse on the reason why King Agamemnon of Mycenae had no choice but to declare war against Troy, and it is also an ode to the one man I loved, who dared to stand up against Zeus, the ruler of Olympus, and fearlessly challenged him, becoming the only human to defy him.

 

In a new land where history has not yet been written, I have completed this record with the aid of a wise centaur and an excellent assistant named Agaphilia. If someone is reading this story, it can be assumed that it was done with the permission of the wise Athena, as I entrusted the story to her after its completion.

 

Having spoken the words that needed to be spoken and transcribed the words that needed to be written, I finally feel free.

 

I am Hera.