"Have you ever wondered how things would have panned out if you'd taken the throne from Kronos instead of my husband?"
Hades blinked. "Um…"
"I mean, you're the oldest son. The law of succession says you should have inherited the title of king instead of that philandering bastard with a breeding kink who now wears the crown," she bristled.
Hades rubbed a hand down his face. "Wow! That's quite the opener for a session. A greeting would have been appreciated before we got started," he attempted a smile, only to be met with Hera's stony silence.
She'd stormed into his newly renovated office without warning, claimed a seat and asked that ridiculous question of hers.
Hera exhaled and tossed her thick braid over her shoulder. Today, she was dressed less extravagantly in a modest pale lavender dress, pearls woven into her hair. A deep groove between her eyebrows and fine lines around her frowning mouth marred her otherwise ethereal face.
"I'm serious, Hades. Have you ever thought about it? Aren't you angry that you're stuck down here while Zeus holds power over the heavens and mortal lands, and Poseidon gets the seas and oceans? And here you are," she gestured to him, "The oldest son, babysitting the dead."
Hades leaned back, resting his cheek against his hand. "What's going on, Hera? Why bring up old news?"
Hera's answering smile didn't reach her eyes. "Ignore me, I was just being— what is it Zeus and his bastards like to call me behind my back again? Oh, a bitter hag!" she exclaimed, snapping her fingers. She slumped back into her seat, the light in her brown eyes dimming. "I was just thinking that if Zeus didn't have all the power he has now; maybe he'd be a different man. A better husband and a better father."
Hades felt a twinge of sympathy for her. For all her faults, Hera didn't deserve to be humiliated by Zeus in this way.
"I take it things haven't improved much between Zeus since both of your last sessions?"
"And it's your fault!" Hera accused.
She picked up the hunk of black diamond ore Melinoë had gifted Hades, which he now used as a paperweight. Hera held it up, admiring its jagged edges with a thoughtful look. Next thing Hades knew, he was ducking out of the way as the huge hunk came flying at his face.
It struck the wall behind him, shattering the certificate he'd proudly hung up. Hades bit back a wince and made a mental note to keep the ore out of reach of his patients.
He took a breath, trying to stifle the bubble of frustration expanding in his chest. It didn't work.
"How is the deterioration of your already shitty marriage my fault?" Hades asked incredulously.
"You put it into his head that he needs to initiate intimacy and spend more time with me to fix our marriage!" Hera hissed.
"And that's a bad thing? I thought you wanted to fix your marriage!" Hades raised his voice to match Hera.
"I do! But do you have any idea what that pompous fool has been putting me through?" she slammed her hands on the table. Thankfully the desk remained standing. "Zeus' idea of a romantic date night turned out to be a group date where he brought along 'candidates' for me to choose from to build my harem," she spat.
"To paraphrase him; I wouldn't be so miserable and lonely if I didn't close myself off to all the love and pleasure that others wish to give me. One of those suitors he brought was a cyclops. My husband wants me to let a one-eyed freak bed me; and heavily implied that he wouldn't mind joining us. And that's not the craziest thing he's done in his bid to revive the barren wasteland that is our marriage!"
"That was all Zeus, I swear," Hades held his hands up defensively.
"You put it in his head that he needs to seduce me. After that disaster of a first date, he decided a romantic dinner under the stars in Demeter's flower gardens would soften me up. I admit, I felt my resolve start to crumble at first until he announced he'd written a ballad in my honour and asked one of the sprites to recite it while Apollo serenaded us with his lyre."
"Oh no." Hades made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and laughter.
"Oh yes!" Hera's shark-like grin and manic glean darkening her eyes were unnerving. "Charismatic as my husband is, he is no poet. Knowing Apollo likely composed the whole thing cheapened the gesture, as did the fact that he'd asked Apollo to be there at all. Unfortunately for Zeus someone, Hermes I'd wager, switched out the lyrics beforehand. Instead of a romantic love ballad, we got a vulgar doggerel about Zeus' extra-marital exploits. To make matters worse, the poem was broadcast throughout Mt. Olympus thanks to one of Hephaestus' inventions. Honestly, I don't know which one of us was more embarrassed!"
Hades bit down on his lip to keep from laughing. Hera had no such luck. A giggle escaped her, even though she was genuinely angry.
"And d-don't get me started on the attempts at physical intimacy. He comes to my bedchambers still reeking of his lovers, and has the nerve to get offended when I turn him away. I can't do this anymore, Hades!" She threw her hands up in exasperation.
Hades instantly sobered. "What do you mean? Do you not want to be married anymore, Hera?"
"I'm the goddess of marriage and family; how could I fail at both?" she asked instead of answering.
"No one's perfect, Hera. Not even gods. Maintaining a healthy, happy marriage and family takes work from everyone involved. But sometimes, we have to accept that you can only patch up something broken so many times before it becomes irreparably damaged. Do you think your marriage with Zeus is beyond repair?"
"Even if it is, I would never leave him and watch someone else take my place by his side as queen. I've sacrificed far too much, shed an ocean's worth of tears, to give it all up." She made a cutting gesture with her hand. "I'd die before willingly giving up my title. Or better yet, maybe I should just oust Zeus from his position and claim it for myself."
Hades sighed. Ares had said something similar before. Like mother like son, he supposed, but he wished they'd stop talking so openly about committing treason.
"Let me ask you something, Hera: do you love the power you hold as queen of the gods more than you love Zeus?"
"Right now, at this very moment? Yes, I do. Besides his infidelities and being an embarrassment to the gods, he's been overbearing lately. I'm sure I could convince the others that overthrowing him is a good idea. But then again, they might just hate me more than they dislike having an incompetent leader. Ares would definitely be on my side. Maybe Aphrodite and some of my grandkids. Poseidon could be convinced. Hephaestus… I still haven't forgiven him for the throne incident, but his loyalty to Zeus isn't exactly steadfast," she mumbled. Then her gaze snapped up to Hades. "Would you join me if I asked you to?"
She was deadly serious, Hades realized. How long had she harboured such grandiose ideas?
"Whoa, let's put a pin in that thought for now and take a deep breath. You're understandably angry and at your wits' end with Zeus, but don't rush into doing something you might regret later, or drag others into it with you," Hades advised in a calm tone, which only set Hera off even more.
"Do not speak to me in that condescending tone, Hades. You think I've lost my mind, don't you? I can see it that pitying look in your eyes," Hera sneered.
"I don't think you've gone crazy. But I do think you've been through a lot and you've finally reached your breaking point," Hades said gently, trying to placate her.
"Who wouldn't, after suffering through years of disloyalty, neglect, and mockery? I've been a good wife, a good mother, a good queen—but does anyone appreciate what I do? No! My own children are turning against me. I thought I'd always have them in my corner, but even Ares wants to distance himself from me these days. What have I done to deserve this, hm?"
Tears streamed down Hera's face. And though Hades had no doubt her frustration and pain were real, there was something about her distraught expression that felt almost performative.
With an impatient flick of her hand, she swiped away her tears. Her downtrodden demeanour gave way to fresh anger.
"Don't I deserve some recompense for all the grief Zeus has put me through?" she seethed. "Zeus' lovers get more sympathy than I do."
"And you think that wresting the throne from Zeus will make up for all the wrongs you feel have been done to you?" Hades asked.
Hera's eyes blazed. "I don't feel like I've been wronged. I have been wronged! And no, being the sole ruler of Olympus won't undo the betrayal or the broken vows. But it will certainly make me happier than he ever has," she snapped.
Hades shook his head. "All the power in the world won't make you feel better, Hera. You'll still be lonely. You'll still hurt. You'll still carry everything you're feeling right now. Instead of plotting world domination and Zeus' demise, maybe it's time to rediscover who you are."
"I know who I am!" Hera snapped.
"I mean beyond your titles. Beyond being a goddess, queen, wife, and mother, who are you? What does Hera enjoy doing when she's not fulfilling her duties? What else do you love outside of your children?" Hades asked.
Hera opened her mouth as if to answer, then quickly clamped it shut again.
"One thing I've noticed about us gods is that our identities are so deeply entangled with our divine status, we often forget who we were as individuals. Do you remember the person you were before you married Zeus?"
Hera blinked. "I was the goddess of empires, queens, and kingdoms. A sky goddess with dominion over the heavens and earth… I enjoyed the arts, tending to my aviary, and spending time with Hestia and Demeter. I loved being worshipped, receiving offerings, and occasionally visiting temples to be with my priestesses."
Hades nodded. Most of what she said was still tied to her divine role but it was a start. "You said you enjoyed the arts. Has that changed?"
Hera sighed. "Who has time to admire paintings or sit at a loom when I'm busy keeping an eye on my husband's wandering eye and making sure none of his bastards steal what rightfully belongs to my son?"
"Hera, stop," Hades said, his tone firm. "You can't spend your whole life plotting, scheming, or handing out punishments fuelled by pain and revenge. Yes, we live long lives, but eventually, your time before the three Judges will come. Don't you want the scales to tip in your favour when that day arrives?"
"Ugh! More bastard sons of Zeus," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "I can't escape them, not even in death. So what do you suggest? That I find a hobby and let Zeus cheat freely, without repercussions?" She crossed her arms.
"Find a hobby, yes. Learn to manage your anger. And stop using your children as tools of revenge. As for your marriage, I suggest you and Zeus come in for couples' therapy."
Hera tipped her head back and laughed. "Here I thought Hermes was the family comedian. Couples' therapy?"
"It's worked for countless couples, and I think it could benefit the two of you especially since you don't see divorce as an option," Hades explained.
"Next you'll be telling me we should come in for family therapy as well," she jeered.
"That doesn't sound like a bad idea either. It's great that you're all open to therapy individually, but group sessions, where everyone can air their grievances without fear of retaliation, would go a long way in repairing your relationships with Zeus and your children."
Hera let out a dramatic gasp. "What grievances? My children might be cold towards me right now, but I know they love me."
"Hephaestus built you a throne for the sole purpose of trapping you in it," Hades retorted.
"The very thought that something like him came from me is a cruel and disturbing joke from the Fates," Hera clicked her tongue.
Hades clenched his jaw. He hated this side of her. "Hephaestus is not a thing. He's a god and your son, no matter how much you try to deny it. You hurt him when he was born, and you hurt him every day with your disdain and denial of his parentage. Mere moments ago, you counted him among those you hoped to enlist in your ill-conceived rebellion. Why would he help you?"
"He claims he has no mother, so I don't see the problem," she said with a dismissive wave. "I have my lovely daughters and Ares is the only son I need," she declared haughtily.
"So you can keep using him as a weapon to hurt those who hurt you and as a shield against Zeus's and the other gods' anger? How long do you think that will work before Ares decides he's had enough of being your tool?"
Hera sputtered in outrage. Her chest heaved as she glared at Hades. Without warning, she flung out her hand and set his hair on fire.
"I will not stand for these attacks on my character! I'll take my leave and never again shall I set foot in this joke of a clinic!"
Her chair screeched against the floor as she shoved it back and rose, then stormed out of the room.
Hades sighed, unfazed by the acrid smell of burning hair. He calmly doused the flames with a flick of his power, poured himself a drink, and updated Hera's patient file.