Brittany

“When Athens loses its hold on its empire, Hera still sees Athena: a grey-feathered owl tilting its head in the town square where men debate philosophy and rationality, striving for sense and understanding; or else a flash of silver in the eyes of someone stacking another roll of papyrus in the public library, the teacher calling his students to lessons, or the woman demonstrating how the loom works to her attentive daughter. At the lush, rolling vineyards, she sometimes thinks she spots the laughing eyes of Dionysus in a jovial winemaker selling his wares. In the forests, she's convinced she catches a flash of Artemis, running in pursuit of a stag, or else she recognises her determined jawline in a defiant girl. In smoky forges, where blacksmiths wipe the sweat from their brows, she feels the patience of Hephaestus; and she is certain that Ares still runs wild on the battlefields, filling every fighter's heart with his destructive rage. Hestia is there, of course, in every kindly friend, at every welcoming hearth.
She wonders where they see her - in rebellious wives, she hopes, in the iron souls of powerful queens, in resilient girls who find the strength to keep going.”
― Jennifer Saint, Hera

“She wonders where they see her - in rebellious wives, she hopes, in the iron souls of powerful queens, in resilient girls who find the strength to keep going.
Even when they no longer worship at her altars, she won’t disappear. The mortals that determine their own lives, and she will carry on. Immortal and ageless, reinvented a thousand times, remade for a thousand narratives, throneless and wandering, but forever the ruler of her own destiny.”
― Jennifer Saint, Hera

“Her immortal life has split into two. If she moves – if she stands up and walks away from this cove – then she will be in the new part of it. The part that is after.”
― Jennifer Saint, Hera

“Hera didn’t escape her father only to find herself in her mother’s role.”
― Jennifer Saint, Hera