Hera



I have fetched you to my home to taunt you with what you will never have. You have recently given birth to a son, My husband's son. When I learned this I could not stop shaking, Shaking like a long-dormant volcano, Until I erupted with rage. I thought of turning you into a cow, like Io, Or having you killed, like Semele, But no, no, you must suffer more. Anyway, you could never steal Zeus from me, He doesn't really love you or any of those other women; It's...it's me he really loves, The most beautiful goddess there is. What more could he want? No, I will take it out on your son. Naming him Heracles, "glory of Hera," was a huge mistake. That name was reserved for my own child, not yours. Every time I hear it, my skin crawls. The serpents I placed in his cradle are only the beginning. Maybe now Zeus will get the message that he cannot treat me this way. All of the other gods are probably snickering that Hera, Goddess of marriage, Cannot keep her own husband. Zeus cannot dishonor me this way! Someone must pay!