Her son was dead and she was celebrating her grandson’s birth. It was a mad, mad world. Valentine’s without Zeus. Hades was king. She was no longer queen. Hera ran her fingers along the beautiful, hand-crafted mask, an ironic smile curling her lips. Yes, a mad, mad world. One mask, old and comfortable and worn was gone. Her first outing without it and she would be wearing a mask of a far more literal sort. The smile twisted. She placed the mask over her face and turned to the full length mirror. The golden gown and the golden mask caught the light and gleamed. It’d do. “I wish you were going, Ares. I think you would see the humor of this.”
She arrived in her chauffeured car, sliding the driver an extra tip and telling him to take the rest of the night off. Hera had other plans for getting home; someone should spend the night romantically. With any luck, she’d see her grandson and granddaughter, give them the gift and wish them well early in the evening. A brief appearance and then home to lick her wounds. Perhaps even touching base with the Fates; they’d know about Ares and how to return him to the living. First, though, the smile and the appearance; it was Eros birthday and she wanted to see her family happy.