Author's Note: Heya! So, again, this is fleshing out ideas and storylines from The Great Awakening that I wanted to get out, but couldn't find the space. Thank you so much for the feedback so far! I am glad my interpretations have been interesting and not too bizarre or out-of-character. :) I have a keen fascination on the relationship between Zeus and Hera, and since I've already given (some) of Zeus' point of view, here is Hera's!

"You put too much thought in his intentions," Rhea offered as she twisted the spider's silk into a single thread. She pulled back the longest one and she briefly measured its length against her arms before carefully braided the fine pieces together. The titan only quickly eyed her pacing daughter, Hera, who had spent the night off Olympus.

"Do I?" Hera answered defensively as she pressed her index finger against her lip, staring at nothing as she spun around again to walk over her previous steps. "Ever since Ares was born, he's been obsessed with that prophecy. How is that not directly related to his – affairs?"

"My dear," Rhea sighed as her fingers delicately wove together the end of the strand. Able to release it on top of her pile, she patted the seat next to her. "Please sit down."

"Mother, you're not helping!" the frustrated goddess blurt out, turning to face a calm Rhea. Hera placed a hand on her chest, pushing against herself to feel some sort of restraint. "He's mocking me!"

"He does not mean it so," she offered before pointing to the seat more forcefully. "Sit."

It was not a suggestion the second time around and no matter how high her daughter climbed, Hera was still her child in Rhea's eyes. The tone was taken immediately and the Queen obliged, walking to the chair and sitting down quickly. The pair were silent as Rhea reached out once more for the silk and began weaving again, nodding her head towards the untouched spindle. Hera's noise curled up slightly but she begrudgingly reached out for the fine silk. Only when she began to weave did the larger titan settle into conversation.

"Your father was consumed by this prophecy," she began quietly, her eyes focused on the delicate thread between her fingers. "He was always a passionate man, but the prophecy warped his nature. He became cruel and malevolent, seeing everything around him as a fulfillment of the prophecy. In the end, his paranoia wrote his doom – not Moros' words."

"Is this supposed to help?" Hera asked as her hands fell into her lap and she looked to her mother incredulously. "Zeus already is paranoid!"

Rhea smiled slightly when she realized how her daughter took the story and she waved a hand in the air, silently begging her pardon.

"No, Hera my dear, that's not what I meant," she explained as she reached over, tapping her daughter's wrist to remind her to continue spinning; Hera did nothing. "I mean that often we create our own problems by worrying over them."

"Why did I come to you," the Olympian muttered on her breath as she threw her silk into the pile and stood up. Rhea did not falter from her job and although she heard every word, her face did not change. Hera reached a hand up to her head, beginning to run her fingers through her hair and then grabbed it for support. The frustration of having no support from those that feared her husband and no sympathy from her mother made Hera feel isolated and out of control. She could do nothing but complain and even then, no one dared agree with her. With her mother as the final straw, blaming her rather than him, she kicked the chair she had previously been sitting in and let out an aggravated yell. Rhea finally looked up from her fingers, giving a disapproving look but saying nothing. "You're supposed to help me, mother! Not tell me to shut up and bear it!"

"You are a queen now, sweetheart," Rhea sighed, lowering her eyes and shaking her head. "That is exactly what are you to do."

"Get out!" Hera snapped at the attendants in the room as she waved them out, away from the newborn god. They each abruptly stopped what they were doing, nodded or bowed and rushed out, uneasy to be in the room with her in this state. When the door closed behind the final girl, Hera was able to do what she could not in front of anyone else; she collapsed on the floor, her face falling into her hands and she quietly sobbed to release all the pain and frustration. The world around her was simpler when there was conflict; at birth, the solution was escape and after that, it was war with the titans. With their marriage, Hera now had risen to the top and yet was crushed by her very position. In battle, she was free to move where she pleased, striking at whichever enemy she fancied. She had absolute freedom in that regard and when she agreed to marry Zeus, she lost it all.

The weight of the situation pressed on her shoulders and she slouched forward, nearly placing her arms on the ground. The only thing she could feel in public was anger without risking respect and her anger was no threat in comparison to Zeus'. As she cried what she could out, she hadn't heard the small movements from the crib, nor the tiny feet that approached her. She gasped slightly when the small, warm hands reached out for her and she peeked through her fingers to see her son, standing with his arms out and his face confused. Slowly, she reached her arms out to engulf him and pulled him into a tight hug. She placed her hand on his back and closed her eyes, letting his hug comfort her.

"Oh, Ares," she whispered to him, rubbing her hand up and down his back. She had meant to escape anyone seeing her in this state and in doing so, she had exposed to her son to her weakest moment. Hera used a free hand to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. "Think better of me when you're older."