Hephaestus's face twisted into a glower. She hadn't taken the bait. He realized he'd wanted nothing more than to see her face contorted in rage as she tried uselessly to twist at the bonds he made. He wanted to see her lose control, for once, to realize she didn't have the upper hand. She didn't have any hand. Yet even here, as trapped and vulnerable as a goddess could be, she gave him nothing.
He crossed his arms and glared at her. It was foolish, but he felt annoyed that she'd beat him to the reveal of why he was really here. He had wanted to make her squirm, and only then reveal his wondrous plan. But like all of Olympus she was quicker than him, smoother than him, more collected than him. Now he wanted nothing less than to let her off that throne. Gods how she ate at him.
"Then I must be the height of fools," he almost spat at her, before taking a deep breath through his nose and collecting himself. Somewhat. "Perhaps gloating is more enjoyable than you realize." Oooh, how he had wanted her to beg, not ask for his proposition as if she had a say in this, in any of this!
"My proposition is this. You sit there until the end of days. Sit there and see how long it is before they start to forget you. Sit there and wonder what your husband is doing without you. Sit there until your children forget to visit and your maidens turn to crones. That is my proposition, Mother. Perhaps after centuries you'll begin to wonder how it might have been different, if you hadn't been so vain as to seize my gift. How it might have been different if you hadn't been so vain as to--"
His voice left him, strangled, and he could not even say it. He could see it all too easy, the look on her face as she hurled her infant away. The vanity that would make her even try to create a child herself to begin with. This was just punishment, was it not? All the gods could see that, in this throne he'd so carefully gilded until it was as beautiful and false as her.
He'd thought of this day for years, but of course his plans had crumbled as soon as she touched them. She could turn anger and hate into words of silver and steel, but not him. He should have known better than to think he would find some sort of triumph in this plan. She'd somehow even taken that from him.