When Princess Alcmene gave birth to Heracles, she realized from the shattering of Zeus's protective oath that the child would not be safe in the palace. So she placed the infant in a cradle, covered him with some straw, and abandoned him in the fields, hoping someone would take him in.
By chance, Athena was traveling with Hera and passed through that very field. The goddess of wisdom saw how beautiful the child was, felt pity, and sensed the faint signs of destiny within him. She persuaded Hera to nurse the infant.
Thus Heracles, inheriting Zeus's blood, was also nursed by Hera, Queen of the Heavens. But the child bit too hard, enraging Hera, and she flung him to the ground.
Athena gently picked him up, carried him back to the city, and after several twists and turns, returned him to his birth mother, Queen Alcmene, to raise.
Not long afterward, Hera discovered the infant's true identity. Regret turned to fury, and she sent two venomous snakes to kill him. Yet Heracles, born with extraordinary divine strength thanks to the blood of the King of Gods and the milk of the Queen of Heaven, crushed both snakes in his cradle with his bare hands.
After this attempt, Zeus sensed Hera's involvement, and she did not dare act as openly again. But her jealousy and hatred did not diminish; they only grew stronger, though her methods became far more covert.
When Heracles reached adulthood, his older cousin Eurystheus took the throne. Following Hera's instructions, the king forced Heracles to undertake one nearly impossible task after another, tormenting him without end. This became the origin of the Twelve Labors.
Yet as Hera watched Heracles conquer obstacle after obstacle, earning honor and respect, she maliciously drove him into madness. In his frenzy, he killed his own sons and loved ones, drowning in perpetual grief.
In the end, as fate had decreed, Heracles was poisoned by his second wife due to Hera's schemes. Agonized beyond endurance, the great hero chose to immolate himself, submitting to Zeus's judgment and being compelled to reconcile with Hera.
His entire life had been a struggle against destiny and against Hera's relentless persecution.
And this time, the one who manipulated the Amazons into troubling them was clearly the same jealous, white-armed goddess.
But fortune turns. After deceiving Heracles so many times, the Queen of Heaven finally tasted pain of the same kind. Moments earlier, Hera's brief carelessness—combined with Samael's underhanded trick—allowed Heracles to drive an arrow through her chest, wiping out her manifested spirit. She would not be able to cause trouble again anytime soon.
Athena's wisdom?
"Thanks…"
Heracles fell silent, a touch of warmth rising in his gaze toward Samael, and his confidence in the journey to Athens firmed.
He had survived until now thanks to the mercy of the goddess of wisdom, and all his skills had been forged under the guidance of Chiron at the Academy of Athens. Perhaps Athena's wisdom truly could help him break free from this curse of fate...
"No need to thank me. You might not know this, but my other mother, Princess Aethra, and your mother, Princess Alcmene, are both granddaughters of King Pelops. That makes us cousins. I grew up on stories about you."
Samael mixed truth with flattery, trying to ease Heracles onto his ship.
Heracles' grim face softened. A warm smile surfaced, and he patted his "cousin" on the shoulder, the gesture carrying genuine closeness.
"Theseus, you'll be greater than I am. Your future will shine far brighter than mine."
Samael chuckled, unbothered, but his expression shifted to something more serious.
"Since your homeland Argos and that king cousin of yours refuse to accept you, why not try Sparta instead? Spartans share your blood. They revere you like a forefather, an idol. Before you parted ways, the twins Castor and Pollux sincerely invited you to live in Sparta."
After everything they had been through, Heracles finally allowed himself to open up a little to this "cousin," letting out a bitter sigh.
"I'm an ill-omened man. I always bring calamity to those close to me. If I stayed in Sparta and let myself grow attached, it would only give that Queen of Heaven another weakness to exploit."
The ill-fated hero's face darkened. He looked up at the bright sky, forcing a faint, strained smile.
"Besides, I killed my own wife and children. That's a fact. I have to atone for what I've done."
Not only his wife and children—those who trusted him, pitied him, followed him—each had suffered misfortune.
During the trial of the Erymanthian boar, his centaur friend Pholos shared wine with him, which sparked a brawl with the other centaurs. Pholos ended up dying by an arrow Heracles himself had shot...
During the trial of subduing the man-eating mares, his companion Abderos, who was responsible for tending the beasts, was torn apart by the frenzied monsters...
During the trial to capture the Cretan Bull, even his nephew had narrowly escaped death...
Maybe he was born to be alone, born to drown in suffering. Whenever he found a harbor to lean on, fate and the gods would tear it apart, leaving him with nothing but deeper guilt and pain.
Samael could see it clearly—this great hero wasn't just yielding to his cousin the king. He was punishing himself.
What Heracles wanted was simple: to complete the Twelve Labors and force fate and the gods to let him go.
Samael might not be able to feel that pain firsthand, but there were things he wanted—needed—to say.
The Ancient Serpent rested a firm hand on his "cousin's" broad shoulder, speaking with grave sincerity.
"Heracles, the tragedy that befell your wife and children wasn't your fault. You don't need to carry that burden.
Whether it's fate or the gods, they only respect strength, and they lash out even harder at anything weaker.
Endless retreat won't make Hera let go. Give her a taste of her own medicine, and the Queen of Heaven will learn to behave."
Some of the heaviness in Heracles' heart loosened. He nodded slightly in gratitude, thoughtful and silent.
Whether it was the satisfaction of outwitting Hera or the talk they'd just shared, Samael could clearly feel the demigod bodyguard's pent-up resentment easing.
Satisfied, the ancient serpent rose, brushed the dirt and grass off his clothes, and helped Hippolyta back onto her horse.
"We've rested long enough. Let's move."
"Right!"
Heracles responded immediately, vaulting up as well.
Samael glanced toward the distant silhouette of a city, gently tapped the owl perched on his shoulder, then smiled at the mighty hero beside him.
"Arcadia is close. You should change your name. I'd rather not have this great hero stealing all my spotlight."
Heracles nodded, thought for a moment, then a faint smile curved his lips.
"Alcides… just call me Alcides."
As the black centaur horse lunged forward first, Samael watched Heracles' now-straighter back with a bright, satisfied smile.
"Heracles" could also mean "Hera's prisoner."
But "Alcides" was the name he had been given at the very beginning.
In a way, he was finally stepping into a new life.