DC/Fate: Age of Heroes

The wedding was in full motion, an affair unlike anything Edward had expected—extravagant, ancient, and brimming with a kind of vibrant energy that felt older than time itself. Beneath the wide Themysciran sky, as the Aegean sun dipped low toward the sea, everything seemed caught between myth and memory.

The air was alive with scent and sound—roasted boar turning over open flames, the faint aroma of crushed wildflowers scattered across the stone walkways, and the tang of spiced wine being poured freely into bronze goblets. Laughter rang out, mingling with the distant melodies of flutes and the rhythmic hum of drums. Everywhere, light danced—braziers crackled with flame, casting golden warmth on the open-air amphitheater sculpted for the ceremony. The floor beneath their feet bore sacred markings, carved in old language—symbols of union, of fertility, of old magic still living in the bones of the earth.

Edward sat beneath a sweeping pavilion of white and crimson, draped between columns polished smooth by the sea winds. He wore a deep navy tunic embroidered with golden thread, its centerpiece a hawk mid-flight—Hippolyta's sigil. Subtly stitched down his collar, Hera's peacock feather curled in regal green and gold. Around his brow sat a simple crown of olive branches, still glistening with sacred oil, cool against his temple.

He was seated like a king, yet looked around with the amused wariness of a man still half-convinced this might all be a dream. A strange, surreal grin tugged at the corners of his mouth—the kind of grin born from disbelief, from the bizarre calm of a man who had slain gods and now found himself the center of a ceremony devoted to love. Not conquest. Not vengeance. Love.

And beside him stood the reason for it all.

To his right, Hippolyta stood like a vision carved from marble and sunlight. Her wedding dress was crafted from soft ivory linen, but reinforced with thin plates of gold, shaped carefully to accent her form—not to protect, but to honor her strength. A crimson sash tied at her waist added a warrior's flourish, trailing behind her like a banner caught in the breeze. Her golden hair had been braided in the fashion of Sparta's queens—intricate, powerful—decorated with jade and lapis beads, each one likely a gift from an Amazon sister or a relic of some old tale. Her eyes—usually fierce, commanding—now softened when they met Edward's gaze. There was shyness in them, not weakness, but something deeper: vulnerability hidden beneath iron will.

To Edward's left stood Hera, Queen of Olympus. Even without divine aura, without celestial robes, she still carried herself like a being above the world. Her wedding dress shimmered with silver threads, layered like moonlight against her skin. Small, peacock-feathered pins fastened her veil to her shoulders, and atop her head rested a hammered-gold diadem etched with the symbol of eternity. She wore no armor today, no symbols of dominion. Just quiet grace. And a rare smile—gentle, almost human—as her fingers rested lightly on Edward's arm.

Both women looked at him with affection. Not possession. Not triumph. Just quiet affection. For all their history and power, they had found something between them—something fragile and growing. And Edward, somehow, was the anchor of that unlikely bond.

The ceremony unfolded in the order of the ancient rites, each moment grounded in meaning and memory.

First came the loutron—a ritual cleansing. An ornate basin was brought forward, filled with spring water drawn from a sacred pool at the island's heart. Edward, Hera, and Hippolyta washed their hands together, fingers brushing occasionally in a silent moment of unity. The water was cool, but it carried weight—a symbolic act, washing away the blood and war of the past before stepping into something new.

Then came the dedicatory offerings.

Hera stepped forward first. She undid a braid from behind her veil, pulling free a lock of dark hair. With measured hands, she bound it in golden thread and placed it upon the altar. No words were needed. The gesture alone spoke of devotion—of divinity yielding something personal.

Hippolyta followed. She withdrew a ceremonial dagger from her hip—simple, unadorned steel. Without flinching, she made a shallow cut across her palm. A few drops of blood spilled into the brazier fire, hissing on the coals. Her vow was the oldest kind—a warrior's bond sealed in pain.

Edward met their gestures with one of his own. From the Gate of Babylon, he summoned a golden chalice—a relic from some forgotten empire—and filled it with ambrosia. Its golden surface shimmered, catching the firelight. He offered it first to Hera, then to Hippolyta. They drank in turn. Hera's eyes, sharp and discerning, widened just slightly in approval.

Finally came the vows.

Hippolyta placed her hand against Edward's chest, eyes searching his with clarity and force. "I pledge myself to you," she said, her voice steady and clear, "not as a woman to a man, but as a lover to her equal. In battle or peace, in fury or joy, I am yours."

Hera stepped forward next. She didn't touch him, not yet, but her words came with quiet strength. "You have broken the chains of Olympus, and in doing so, you freed my heart. I pledge myself to you not as a goddess to a mortal, but as a soul to its companion."

Edward stood still for a beat, his voice catching in his throat before he finally found it. "I've never known love before," he said, words simple and unadorned, "but if it means walking beside you both... then I welcome it."

The amphitheater erupted. Cheers and songs rang out. Shell and bronze trumpets blared from the balconies, and petals—white and soft—rained down from above, caught in the sea breeze like snow.

And then he kissed them.

Hippolyta first—firm, fervent, a clash of wills melted into passion. Then Hera—slower, with a kind of lingering tenderness that felt like time paused just for them. The crowd roared again, Amazons cheering, laughing, whistling.

As the ceremony faded into celebration, the feast began.

Tables were laden with roasted meats—boar, goat, lamb—dripping with juice and spiced with herbs. Bowls of olives, dates, and honeyed figs were passed around. Wine flowed freely, and the island rang with music. Warriors danced barefoot in circles. Some sparred playfully, others bragged about battles or made toasts in Edward's name.

He found himself handed drink after drink. Women clapped him on the back. One Amazon jokingly offered him a spear as a wedding gift; another challenged him to a drinking contest. For the first time in ages, he laughed without weight on his shoulders.

But the night wasn't done.

As dusk deepened into twilight, the crowd erupted into new cheers as a rowdy group of Amazons—grinning like mischief incarnate—rushed forward.

"To the royal chambers!" one cried.

Before he could react, Edward was hoisted into the air—Hera on one side, Hippolyta on the other—as the warriors carried them off in a flurry of laughter and teasing whistles. Hera's fingers laced into his with a quiet squeeze. Hippolyta leaned in, her voice husky with amusement.

"Try not to faint dear. I have been tather...pent up."

Hera smirked from the side, " We're not letting you sleep tonight, or the next few days. "

Edward, suspended in the arms of a dozen warriors and caught between two powerful women, could only shake his head and mutter with a crooked grin, " I hope my body is strong as my will."

And then they vanished into the palace chambers for their special night.

*****

After Edward had disappeared behind the grand bronze-inlaid doors of the royal chamber with both Hippolyta and Hera flanking him, a heavy silence settled over the palace grounds. The guards at the steps exchanged glances, some of them blinking rapidly, still unsure if they had witnessed a divine procession or some strange fever dream.

The Amazonian crowd that had gathered near the palace remained, loitering along the colonnades and garden paths with wide, curious eyes. Their queen—so regal, so poised, so untouchable—had taken her lover inside along with a literal goddess. And now... nothing. No movement. No sounds.

Not at first.

But then came the tremor.

It started subtly. A light shiver in the columns. A rustle in the drapery. The chandeliers trembled on their chains.

Then came the unmistakable sounds—soft at first, then unrelenting. Moans. Gasping cries of pleasure, sharp and unfiltered, muffled only slightly by the divine enchantments of the palace walls. They rang through the night air like siren songs, echoing down the marble halls.

It didn't take long before a hush fell over the entire island.

The gathered Amazons stood transfixed. Some with cheeks pink and eyes wide. Others with arms crossed and brows raised, trying to appear indifferent but failing miserably. Whispers spread like wildfire.

"Did… did you hear that?"

"That was definitely the Queen."

"Hera too…? I knew she was passionate, but not like this!"

"He must be a god in bed—how else could he keep up with both of them?"

"And for so long…!"

The tremors didn't stop. Nor did the moans. They came in waves—sometimes slow and drawn out, sometimes fast and frantic. The sound of shifting bedsheets, the creak of ornate furniture, and the rhythmic cadence of bodies in motion filled the air, leaving no ambiguity.

The palace itself groaned under the strain.

By the second night, the guards were a wreck. They had begun switching shifts more frequently, claiming patrol duties in the farthest corners of the island just to escape the overwhelming lust that clung to the very air around the palace. Some took long walks to the cliffs under the pretense of scouting. Others sought solitude in the bathhouses, desperate to cool themselves down from the maddening chorus they couldn't unhear.

Some guards even debated climbing the outer walls of the palace, curiosity gnawing at their discipline. If their revered queen and a goddess could be so uninhibited, was it truly wrong to peek? But a shimmering barrier warded the chambers—an enchantment placed by Hera herself, denying all intrusions. The temptation was strong, but the divine warning was stronger.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Amazons were no better off.

No one had gotten a proper night's rest in three days. Even the most stoic warriors walked around with red eyes, yawning as they leaned on spears and columns. They tried to train, to meditate, to maintain order—but how could one meditate through that?

Even mealtime gossip had changed. Gone were debates on strategy, politics, or philosophy. Now, only one subject dominated the conversations.

"How long do you think they can go on?"

"Three days! Three entire days—without food or water! He's not even a god!"

"Maybe he is now."

"And he's handling both of them… like that…?"

Most tried to keep the discussions subtle, but eventually decorum collapsed.

Some even bet on who would come out first—Hippolyta or Hera. Others speculated how many positions could be performed in such a time span. A few even fantasized, cheeks burning, about what it would be like to be in that room.

But none suffered quite like Diana.

The young Amazonian princess sat cross-legged near the cliffs overlooking the sea, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression flustered beyond belief. The moment she'd heard her mother's voice echoing through the palace walls—that kind of voice—her brain had short-circuited.

She hadn't known where to go. At first, she tried the temple, but even prayers to the gods couldn't drown out the rising tempo of passion. Then she'd gone to the stables, but even the horses had grown agitated from the constant shaking of the palace.

Now she just sat and pouted.

"My mother..." she muttered to herself, cheeks puffed and pink. "How could she...! She's always lecturing me on dignity and discipline… and now she's in there screaming Edward's name like a lovestruck maiden!"

Her face turned crimson again as she remembered the last high-pitched moan.

"And Hera! Lady Hera! She's our goddess!"

Her hands covered her face in shame.

"That means all three of them are…"

She shook her head violently, trying to purge the image.

She buried her face into her knees with a miserable groan. "I need a mountain to crawl under."

Still, silver linings existed.

With her mother and Hera thoroughly occupied, Diana found herself with unprecedented freedom. No more nagging. No more mandatory etiquette training. No more guards tailing her. Everyone was too tired, too distracted, or too embarrassed to care what she did.

She stood up, stretched, and walked off with a determined huff. "Fine. If they're going to indulge in their… adult things… then I'm going exploring. Let them be."

Inside the royal chamber, the world felt timeless.

Silken sheets were tangled around limbs. The air was heavy with the scent of sweat, perfume, and lingering divine warmth. Moonlight filtered softly through the enchanted drapes, casting a silvery glow across the exhausted forms sprawled atop the massive bed.

Edward lay in the center, every muscle in his body aching in a way that was somehow both painful and blissful. He let out a low grunt as he finally gave in, body surrendering to the weight of fatigue.

Beside him, Hippolyta had already passed out. Her chest rose and fell in steady, peaceful breaths, her golden hair strewn across the pillow like a halo. She drooled slightly onto his shoulder, face flushed, one arm thrown over his chest, and a leg hooked instinctively around his waist like a possessive lover even in sleep.

Edward smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. His body still felt hot.

On his other side, Hera was still awake—barely. Her divine body, slick with sweat, shimmered under the faint glow. She collapsed onto him with a satisfied sigh, her breath warm against his skin.

"You have a monstrous body and stamina, beloved husband…" she murmured, trailing her fingers lazily across his chest. Her voice was husky, her lips swollen from hours of kisses. "I feel it still within me… I probably won't be able to get up today."

She kissed his chest affectionately, inhaling the musky scent.

Edward exhaled, catching his breath, his hand gliding gently down her waist and resting against the curve of her hip.

"And you kept tempting me for more," he said with a breathless chuckle. "It's been more than three days… we've barely left the bed."

His fingertips traced soft patterns against her skin.

Hera hummed, resting her head over his chest, her smile one of pure contentment. "I wouldn't mind being stuck here forever… as long as I'm with you."

Edward let out a low laugh and tilted his head to kiss her temple.

"You're a crazy woman, Hera. But you're my crazy woman."

With his other hand, he pulled Hippolyta closer, brushing a gentle kiss onto her forehead. She didn't stir, but a sleepy smile tugged at her lips.

"And you… my warrior queen."

Hippolyta smiled even in her sleep and held on tightly.

He smiled, " I wished talk with you with two more, and get to know each other better before we took this step. But I guess we can talk after we wake up, preferably tomorrow."

Wrapped in warmth and softness, with two stunning women by his side, one queen, one divine, Edward finally closed his eyes.

They drifted off to sleep, tangled together beneath the silken canopy. The chaos of Olympus, the ruins of the gods, the tremors of war, all faded into silence.

For now, there was only peace, love And rest.

After three long, glorious days.

****

Edward stirred awake, a lingering soreness resting in his limbs from what could only be described as three days of relentless, primal intimacy. Despite the exhaustion, a soft, contented smile played on his lips as he opened his eyes and took in the sight before him.

Hippolyta and Hera were sprawled across his body, each curled against him, one on either side. Their breathing was soft, their skin warm against his. The sheets were tangled, the air still heavy with the scent of sweat, sex, and something deeper—an unspoken bond now sealed between them. Their hair, messy and matted, clung to their faces, yet to Edward, they looked radiant. Divine, even.

His body reacted almost immediately, a familiar rush of heat pulsing through him. He blinked in mild disbelief. "Damn," he muttered under his breath, staring at the ceiling. "We literally did it for three days… and I still have energy? Did I awaken EX rank virility as well?"

Chuckling to himself, he resisted the temptation building within and simply relaxed, drawing his arms gently around the two women. He ran his fingers softly over their backs, tracing the curves of their bodies with affectionate care, as if grounding himself in this new reality.

Hippolyta stirred first. Her eyes fluttered open, dazed for a moment before recognition—and then memory—flooded in. A deep blush rose on her cheeks as she realized she was lying naked atop her husband, limbs tangled with his and Hera's. Her fingers clenched the sheets. "My sisters…" she murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "I don't know what they might be thinking after hearing me like that."

Edward grinned at her reaction, and with a teasing glint in his eye, pinched her toned rear.

She gasped sharply, jerking slightly as she glared at him, but before she could protest, he leaned forward and kissed her deeply, his hand soothing the very spot he'd pinched. Hippolyta sighed into the kiss, her initial embarrassment giving way to surrender. She returned it, slow and tender, her fingers curling around his shoulder. In that moment, the former warrior queen felt something she hadn't in centuries—peace. Fulfillment. Belonging.

When they finally pulled apart, Edward smiled and brushed a lock of hair from her face. "Good morning, my beautiful wife."

Her cheeks pink again, Hippolyta nuzzled his neck, her tone uncharacteristically soft. "Good morning, dear husband." For once, her voice lacked the strength of a warrior. She spoke like a woman content. In her mind, a thought surfaced quietly: It feels nice to wake up next to your loved one.

A small yawn sounded beside them as Hera stirred, stretching languidly like a cat before opening her eyes. The moment she saw Edward's face, she brightened instantly, her expression melting into joy.

Without hesitation, she leaned up, tilted her chin, and closed her eyes in anticipation. Edward chuckled and obliged, pressing a kiss to her lips. But Hera, unsurprisingly, was not one to let go so easily. The kiss deepened and lingered until both were breathless.

As she finally drew back, her chest rising with each breath, she pressed herself flush against him, a satisfied hum escaping her throat. "Good morning, beloved husband," she whispered, eyes shining. "I feel the happiest I've ever been."

Edward smiled warmly, brushing his fingers through her hair. "Good morning to you too, dear wife."

Hera giggled, mischief still dancing in her eyes. She nuzzled into his side and murmured, "Mmm… I need a bath, dear husband… but you seem to have made me unable to get up." She traced her fingers lightly across his chest. "Would you carry me there?"

Hippolyta rolled her eyes and groaned, "Stop pretending. You're a goddess—you should've recovered by now."

Hera shot her a sly look. "I lasted longer than a certain someone. I spent all my energy. Tragic, really."

The jab wasn't lost on Hippolyta. Her lips parted in retort, but before she could fire back, Edward smacked both of them playfully on their rears.

A surprised yelp escaped from both, and they shot him looks of mock outrage, cheeks flushed. But Edward only laughed, scooping both women effortlessly into his arms and hoisting them over his shoulders.

Hippolyta yelped again, more from shock than protest, while Hera purred with amusement. "Oh my," she teased, voice rich with delight. "Looks like husband wants to punish us now…"

Edward carried them to the baths, his grin never fading. As the steam rose and water filled the marble basin, the three bathed together. Edward was gentle, thorough, pampering each of them as though they were fragile porcelain rather than immortal queens. He washed them with care, wiped their bodies clean, and whispered affectionate nothings between quiet laughter and stolen glances.

Despite his past—despite how violent and cold he had once been—he had always promised himself that if he ever found someone to love, he would cherish them properly. And now, with these two divine women by his side, he held to that vow.

Both Hera and Hippolyta basked in his touch. In his presence, they were not just deities or rulers. They were women who were loved—softly, fiercely, wholly.

After the bath, they dressed and left the chambers, ready to return to courtly life. But as they stepped out, they were met by a surprising sight. Every Amazon they passed looked away immediately, red-faced, blushing deeply as if unable to meet their eyes.

Hippolyta froze, mortified. The guards, the attendants—even the older warriors—acted as though they'd just witnessed something scandalous. Which, to be fair, they probably had.

She groaned and whispered under her breath, "This is so embarrassing."

Edward leaned down, his voice warm in her ear. "What's there to be ashamed of, dear wife? It's a natural thing married people do."

Hera, now considerably calmer than her usual teasing self, nodded in agreement, her grin still mischievous. "Yes, Hippolyta. You should be proud. Who else can say their husband pleasured them for three whole days? I'd let my husband show affection to me anytime."

Edward chuckled, wrapping an arm around each of their waists. "Alright. First, we eat. Then we talk. I want us to know each other better—truly. No more secrets. No more burdens carried alone."

Both women smiled at that. Hera leaned into him. Hippolyta nodded silently. And together, the three of them walked through the palace toward the dining hall.

Inside, Diana was already at the table, hungrily munching through a stack of fresh bread and fruit. She looked up, startled by their entrance, her eyes lighting up.

"Mother! Father! Lady Hera! You've finally left the room?" she said innocently, mouth half-full. "I thought you were going to stay there for a week. Some of the older sisters said Father was showing his love to you guys…"

Edward nearly choked on a laugh and walked over, patting her head gently. "Manners, young lady. You're too young to be talking about such things."

Hippolyta buried her face in her hands. "I am so ashamed."

Diana, unfazed, perked up. "So, can we go exploring today? I want to show you around Themyscira!"

Edward crouched down to meet her at eye level, smiling warmly. "Not today, dear. I still need to talk with your mother and Aunt Hera. But tomorrow, I promise." He held out his pinkie finger.

Diana tilted her head, confused. "What is this?"

Edward laughed, gently linking his pinkie with hers. "It's a human gesture. A pinkie promise. Once you make it, you can't break it."

She blinked. "What happens if you break it?"

He grinned dramatically. "Someone will come and spank you. Probably. You can try and find out."

Diana recoiled, wide-eyed. "N-No! I don't want to!"

Edward's grin widened. "Don't worry. Even if someone comes, nobody can beat me."

Her eyes sparkled in awe. With a gleeful gasp, she watched as Edward summoned a small batch of sweets from the Gate of Babylon and handed them to her. She took them with both hands, looking at him like he was a god—and to her, perhaps he was.

Hippolyta, standing quietly beside Hera, watched the scene with a soft, full smile. Her earlier worries, about how Edward would treat Diana, about Zeus's involvement in her daughter's origin melted away. He didn't ask questions. He didn't judge. He simply loved her child.

And in that moment, her heart swelled.

Together, the odd yet complete family sat down to eat.

They shared a quiet, content breakfast ; husband, wives, and daughter.

*****

The sun had barely crested the horizon when Edward took his wives by the hand, one on each side, and walked with them slowly through the tranquil palace halls. Their fingers intertwined, silent but firm. The air outside was fresh, still touched by the dew of the morning. A quiet breeze rustled the leaves in the garden as birds chirped lazily above the treetops.

The royal gardens of Themyscira were a vision of peace. Marble benches stood beneath flowering trees. Vines curled along carved pillars. In the center, a soft stream trickled beside a stone path. Edward led them to a shaded spot beneath a wide, flowering tree, where a table had been set with refreshments and cool drinks. Plates of fruits and delicate pastries rested between goblets of wine and pitchers of water.

They sat, close together but unhurried. There was no rush. No war. No duty pressing on their shoulders. Just time — rare and precious — to share with each other.

For a while, they spoke casually — of the weather, the island, how peaceful it felt to have silence instead of steel ringing in the distance. Then Hippolyta leaned back against the bench and glanced toward the flowers swaying in the breeze.

"I suppose," she said, her voice soft with nostalgia, "it's only fair I begin."

Edward looked at her and smiled. Hera gave a small nod, folding her arms and settling into her seat with interest.

Hippolyta took a breath.

"I was not always a queen," she began, brushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear. "When we first came to Themyscira, we were broken. Escaped from the world of men. The gods gifted us this land, and we built something new. Something sacred. A place where women could be free. Strong. Unafraid."

Her eyes lingered on the garden walls, as if seeing far beyond them.

"I've ventured out many times — to the world beyond these shores. There was adventure, danger, lessons I had to learn the hard way. But it was Heracles who brought the greatest storm."

Her lips pressed into a line. Hera shifted subtly beside Edward, her expression unreadable.

"He came with honeyed words and strong arms. I believed him. Trusted him." Her voice lowered. "And I paid for it. We all did."

Edward didn't speak. He simply placed his hand over hers. Hippolyta smiled faintly in thanks, then continued.

"When Diana was born… everything changed. She was my purpose. My light. I raised her to be wise, to be kind, to be powerful — but I was strict. Too strict, perhaps. I feared the world would try to take her from me."

Edward listened quietly, letting her voice carry its weight.

"She always wanted to meet her father. Now she has. But not in the way I ever imagined."

Hippolyta gave a soft sigh and glanced over to Hera. "Your turn, sister."

Hera didn't smile. She folded her hands in her lap and stared at the table for a moment. Then, finally, she spoke.

"When the Titans fell, it was not a glorious victory. It was survival. My siblings and I… we overthrew our parents. Not out of nobility, but fear. Rage."

Her voice was calm, but each word held something heavy — something old and deep.

"Zeus… was relentless. He hounded me for years. Promised marriage, loyalty, partnership. I rejected him. Again and again. I should have seen through it, but I was tired. I was foolish."

Her gaze darkened.

"He forced himself on me when I slept. That is how Ares was conceived. A god of war born not of love, but violence."

Edward's expression didn't change, but his jaw clenched slightly. Hera didn't notice.

"I married him, believing it would stop the humiliation. But it never did. He mocked me. Slept with anything that breathed. And when I grew bitter, when I lashed out, I became the villain."

Her voice trembled, just for a breath.

"I hurt people. Mortals who didn't deserve it. I made choices I regret. I became someone I no longer recognized. I was not a goddess , I was just another woman scorned and lost to the grief."

She stopped, eyes downcast. The garden was quiet except for the whisper of wind through the trees.

Edward didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He reached across the table and took her hand gently in his. Hera looked up, and for the first time since he had met her, her expression was not prideful or playful. It was regretful.

A few minutes passed in silence, the weight of memory pressing gently between them.

Then Hera sat up, brushing away her thoughts with a tired smile. "Enough of past ghosts. Your turn, husband."

Hippolyta nodded and looked to Edward. "Yes. We've shared our pasts. Now it's time you share yours."

Edward hesitated, then leaned back slightly in his seat. "I suppose," he said, almost sheepishly. "But… my story isn't a happy one."

He paused again, collecting his thoughts, before he began.

" I was just another regular soul, moving along with the flow. Nobody noticed me, and I ignored them. Then My world… ended, due to human foolishness. Entire civilizations wiped away. Hopes and dreams shattered. I was the only one left on that broken world."

His voice was quiet.

"I should've felt grief. Pain. But I didn't. Nothing. Just… emptiness. Maybe because I had stopped feeling anything long ago."

He looked at both of them, his eyes distant.

"I thought something was broken in me. That maybe the part of me that should have died with my world stayed behind, and what lived on wasn't really human anymore."

He took a sip of wine, as if to gather courage.

"Then I arrived in this world. I met Polyphemus , a gentle cyclops, strangely enough. He was… kind. Crude, but loyal. He became my first friend in this strange land. We shared some good memories, and hoped go on a journey together to see the world."

He smiled faintly, remembering.

"But then Poseidon came. Killed him. Just like that. I lost him, who was trying to protect me. I felt so useless and weak."

His hand curled into a fist on the table.

"That's when I lost control. Something inside me snapped. I awakened a power I didn't understand at first, one that tore gods apart like they were made of paper. "

He leaned forward now, voice heavy .

"I killed Poseidon. And other Olympians. I didn't do it for glory or vengeance. I did it because I was terrified, terrified that this world would walk the same path as mine. That these gods would shackle humanity, and after the age of gods ended, they would face destruction again at their own hands."

He looked at them, not proud, but resigned. His voice shaky.

"I wanted to be a guide. A symbol of hope so they can live freely, dream proudly and walk a better path. I just hope to watch over them as they lived happily. Probably because I think owe it to them, as the only man survive the end when better people than me perished."

Then he gave a helpless smile, the corners of his eyes soft.

"You two must think I'm rather stupid to choose this path. A fool's endeavor, despite knowing how it ends."

Neither woman spoke at first. Then, without a word, Hippolyta rose and walked to him. Hera followed. They stood beside him on either side.

Hippolyta cupped his cheek and spoke softly, "No, you are perhaps the bravest and most admirable man I've ever known. Others would have sought comfort or wealth with such power. Almost everybody would choose to be selfish . But You chose the hard road, not for yourself, but for others future. I love and respect your decision, husband. I'll support you and carry on your dream as long as I live."

Hera's fingers ran gently through his hair as she added, "You gave me a second chance. You forgave me. You saw me. I never cared for mortals… but for you? I would give up everything. I would sacrifice everything if it meant making your dream a reality."

She smiled faintly, her eyes soft but steady.

"Raise your head, husband. If anyone deserves peace and happiness… it's you."

Something inside Edward eased. A breath he hadn't known he was holding. A weight he had carried alone for too long.

He wrapped his arms around them both, pulling them into an embrace. It wasn't fierce or passionate , just warm. Filled with love and faith.

And in that moment, for the first time in what felt like eternity, he understood what it truly meant to not carry a burden alone. He felt.... free and content .

'So this is how it feels,' he thought, closing his eyes, 'to have someone beside you… sharing your pain, your dreams. It feels… rather nice.'

*****

Character development, huh? Such a bitch to write. Now that it's out of the way, it's time for growth and progress the plot from Greece. Next chapter will see the end of Greek arc.

Btw, I saw some comments about why the story is bad, cringe and just increasing word count, and how it would be so much better if it was action , sex, more action then kill all and end it in next 50 chapters or something. So I wanted to address them once and for all cz I won't say it again.

The tags and description are there, and I have somewhat explained the reasoning and approach as well as mc personality. If anybody feels this isn't what you want to read, feel free not to read, there are plenty decent stories, random translations and brainrots available with some smut as well.

Why force yourself to read, and then whine if it's not your preference? Doesn't make sense lol

I'm the one writing it, and I sure as hell won't just bend over and ruin it . If it's a logical question or good suggestion, I will answer it, but I definitely won't waste my time trying to convince anyone who just wants to spread negativity.

I'll quote the random thot video cz it fits lol " If you don't like what you are reading, why don't you just write your own book? " 😂😂

Sorry for the long rant, just needed clear it out , hopefully they will get the message. It's always some people who don't have any joy in life, so they try to ruin others fun. I'll keep writing as usual , following my own plot and direction. If you truly wish to read something good, you'll enjoy it. Afterall, this is just the beginning.

Happy Reading !