To Grandmother's House We Go (tag: Hera)
Deimos was miserable.
He was dressed in his nicest, non-suit-and-tie clothes, which in this case were crisply pressed Dockers (brand new--it was the only way they'd be wrinkle free because he sure as hell wasn't gonna pick up an iron), a white button-down shirt with a light blue pinstripe, black socks, black penny loafers, and a black fedora. At least most of his clothes were black; it helped a little, to maintain the whole bad-ass persona.
But when one's grandmother is Queen of the Gods, and one was going to petition said Grandmother for a favor, one dressed up. And one most certainly called her "Hera" or "Grandmother." Because she'd been known to drop her own children off the mountaintop for less. Oh, yes. One also did not mention Zeus' well-known habit of infidelity or Hera's own temper.
He reviewed those rules in his mind as he presented himself at Olympus and banged in through the front. Normally he'd be shouting, as he had last time he'd come to the Mountain, but he figured that might not get the visit off to the best start. Or it might attract someone and he'd get derailed from his purpose.
Because ever since Harmonia had gotten home and they'd gotten that gods-be-damned cursed necklace back, Deimos had been itching to beat someone into a nice little pile of bloody pulp for screwing with his sister. But even though Philotes had promised him a name, he hadn't pressed her for it yet, because he had come up with a plan of his own.
He was going to all the people who loved Harmonia, or who liked him or her well enough, and he was going to ask for help. Help in finding out who'd driven her to the Underworld and would they like to participate in the payback. Because for all of his short-comings, Deimos wasn't as stupid as he pretended to be. He knew, for example, that it had to be someone pretty high up on the food chain to pull of that kind of bad mojo on the daughter of an Olympian. Which mean it was likely another Olympian or another offspring. Maybe even a Titan or a Titan's offspring.
Unfortunately, the entire damn pantheon bred like rabbits on fertility drugs. Deimos himself had a twin, brothers Anteros and Eros, and sisters Harmonia and Adrastea. And that was just by both Ares and Aphrodite. He had a shitload of erote half-siblings, not to mention a bunch of other half-siblings on Ares' side of things, though by and large they were mortal. He knew he'd be a little more successful digging up help on Ares' side of the family, and since Ares was one of Hera's favorites, he figured she might be willing to swing into action and help him crush whomever was trying to destroy Ares' daughter. He'd also have to eventually talk to Enyo, but Enyo's attitude towards Aphrodite often irritated Deimos. So he'd chosen to meet with Hera first. Starting at the top was always the way to handle things.
Peacocks were strutting across the lawn and their tails threw shadows as Deimos tromped through the hallways, seeking out his grandmother. "Grandmother?" he called, as quietly as he knew how, and yet his voice still thundered and echoed in the marble hall. "Grandmother Hera!"