Hades laughed. He laughed and shook his head, his eyes dropping to the floor. Follow Zeus's example? Him? Just pick up a string of lovers to, well....string, because it was...Easier? Hera did not realize the extent of the defects in his character.
“I've had nine months,” he said, looking up. His tone was exasperated, and the words came jumbled, and a bit faster than he could say them. “Nine months. A year. Every single year. For who knows how many years. Too many. And opportunities....Nymphs. They can be very forward. Persistent. And I don't anyway. One of them, she's right, she is very pretty, and she does these...these looking things with her eyes...I should like it. But she's not her. Which should not be so big. Logically, it shouldn't be. But it's astronomical. And I leave. I just can't.” Hades paused. He covered his face with his hand for a second then bit his lip. “What may be easier for my brother is not necessarily easier for me.”
He sighed. “I don't think it would truly be easier anyhow. Quantity does not mean much when you damage everything you have in order to get more. Keep cracking at a foundation and eventually the building falls.”
Here was Hera. Who Zeus had wanted enough to pursue relentlessly, and share the power and responsibility that he loved so much. And Hera loved him back. No matter how ambitious Hera was, she was far too passionate to marry for only a crown. Hera did not do things halfway, or even half hearted. She was always all in. Even when she was all out, she was all in about being all out. But that didn't just make her strong, it made her vulnerable. And instead of embracing or developing the relationship that was right in front of him, Zeus sacrificed it and exploited that vulnerability. All for the sake of a few pretty faces and an empire of illegitimate offspring all doomed to grow up slightly maladjusted due to parental neglect. There some were things about his brother that Hades didn't think he'd ever understand.
“As for my limit,” Hades said, referring back to her initial question. “That, dear sister, is not something I want you to worry about. You don't need to worry about it.” The truth was, he didn't know. Hades never knew his limits before he'd reached them. Whenever he tried to guess, he was always shocked by what he could or could not do. In any case, Hades wasn't optimistic, but that wasn't something he was going to tell Hera. He'd said too much, and she was starting to look a little calculating. In Hades' head, around the time of the Titanomachy, he'd dubbed the look “cackle-lating.” Hades had never actually seen Hera cackle. But he could imagine it. And it was the most terrifying thing the Lord of the Dead had ever seen. “I can handle things,” he said.