Thoth tended to call Hermes a "scamp", but Isis had never found him anything less than respectful and considerate. This had been proven once again when he came to see the Egyptian queen with exciting news, knowing she would want to know.

( The news was that Odin had remarried )

Aset hated it when her beloved husband roamed the world. She understood, and even agreed with, the necessity of teaching mortals the laws and morals of the gods. If Ma'at was to be upheld, the gods couldn't do it alone. During his journeys, Isis managed things in Kemet, and had already proven she was up to the task. But they were lonely times.

Asar always made up for his long trips when he returned. Besides the blissful things a husband and wife did when they were separated for long periods of time, he also regaled her with tales from the lands he visited. Some were amusing, some confusing, and some were just delightful. Upon his most recent return to Kemet, he told her a tale that was nothing short of bizarre.

( She had to see the truth of this for herself. )

Kemet was still young. Aset, too, was really still young, but she felt so very old. She'd loved and lost and found that love again only to lose him to another realm. She'd raised children and watched as one by one they no longer needed her. She knew they would always need her, but not in the same way they used to. She'd gained insights and wisdom, yet had also learned how to scheme and lie when it suited her. Looking back on her life, there were times she really wasn't sure which way the scales of happiness tipped for her, and today was to be another unhappy day in the young Queen's life.

There was another the scales would soon be weighing in on, but they were a far different set of scales. These would be the final scales her beloved head of household would face, her Ib, her heart, against the Feather. Aset had no worries in that area, but it seemed the dying woman did.

( I'm scared, Aset. )

Hera was a survivor. She’d had to become one out of necessity. Her earliest memories were filled with darkness and pain and terror. If she hadn’t made herself strong, if she hadn’t gotten tough, it was possible that would have driven her insane. The idea that she would not be in control of her own mind, because of the actions of someone else, was so infuriating and repugnant that Hera had made the decision then and there that she would never give in to it. So she’d fought back the darkness inside herself, she swallowed the terror and she embraced the pain until it was part of her. Until it wouldn’t overwhelm her. Until she could not only survive, but truly live.

How odd that it had come to this then. She’d staved off the madness that the actions of her father could have caused, only to fall prey to that very ailment because of her husband. Perhaps that was her own fault. She’d let her guard down, and Zeus had managed to get under her skin. Into her heart. He’d gotten into her heart. That was something their father had never managed, so maybe that was where she had gone wrong, letting Zeus have a claim on her in such a personal way.

( But she couldn’t help it. )

Harmonia walked through the marketplace in Thebes, peeking around corners and in baskets. Behind clothes and fabric, under imported and locally made rugs, around flowers and behind people. All while she looked the people around her smiled and bowed their heads reverently to their Queen. She tried hard, but it didn't matter, the people loved her from the second she married their King. Maybe it was because she was a good individual and was kind, or maybe it was because she was a goddess and her family was usually quite scary if scorned. ( She didn't want to know, she was just grateful her people loved her and in return, she loved them. )

The trip back to Aset's temple took longer than usual, mostly because the little goddess with her was constantly distracted by anything that moved. Be it insect, fish in the Nile, or just the wind catching the reeds, her curiosity and restless nature just seemed to take over. Aset could tell she was going to have her hands full, but she also knew it was going to be worth it.

( From the moment Aset had found the young Bast... )

Bedtime was the worst time of the day. Except when Uncle Djehuty came to spend the night. Aset was convinced he was the greatest babysitter. Ever. And it wasn't just bedtime.

Her uncle was just too much fun to be around. He taught her stuff, played with her, and pretty much let her and her siblings do what they wanted. Well, not everything they wanted, but a whole lot more than Mommy or Daddy did. Uncle Djehuty seemed to enjoy watching the kids play, and encouraged them to play games and use their imaginations.

But even her fun uncle was firm about when bedtime was. At least the part about having to go to bed. Sleep was usually another matter. There was the required glass of water, then at least one story. Sometimes, if she was lucky and he wasn't too tired, she would get two stories. For now, she was only shooting for one. One very special story.

"Will you tell me my story again? You can sit on my bed." Which would be perfect, because then she could snuggle while he told the story.

Aset loved her Uncle Djehuty very much.

"Please?" She gave him her cutest smile and waited expectantly. It didn't even occur to Aset that he might turn her down. He was way too awesome to do that.

Curiosity is what brought the Queen to Paris. That, and a need to right a great wrong. Assuming said wrong had even been committed.

If there was one thing Isis had learned over the years since Egypt had begun to falter, then completely decline beyond recognition, it was that things were never quite what one heard. It had started with the Greeks, and the Romans had taken that to even greater lengths. Yet no one was able to quite stretch the truth as much as word of mouth.

( What was being said about herself was no different. )