"Hera, you are - were - my wife. My desire to avoid seeming biased was a poor one, and one I should never have embraced. Rather than embrace an opportunity to deepen our love I chose instead to start a war by merit of that gaping idiot Paris." Zeus, under the suggestion of a mortal who had figured out who he was, had gone to see the film<i>'Troy'</i>when it had been made. There had been very many aspects of it he found troubling, but the only part he couldn't find fault with was the portrayal of Paris of Troy as an abrupt, stupid, ineffectual boy. He had laughed rather heartily to see him beaten, to the distaste of the other theater-goers. He hadn't been since. Mortal entertainment never had made much sense to him.<br/><br/>"Either way, know now, millennia later, that I should have given Eris' damned apple to you. Why Athena ever even cared is beyond me, she's never been the vain sort." He didn't address her admission directly, but it did make him smile. There had been times when she had liked him before. They had five children, she had<i>better </i>have liked him, but that honest and full love had been so long ago and so relentlessly abused that Zeus had nearly forgotten what it was like.<br/><br/>And, if he were being entirely honest, it hadn't just been Athena's urging that had sent him toward Hera first. After she left he had lain with as many women as he could, queens and commoners, goddesses and naiads, an orgy of spite that he was ashamed to admit to. When the fury had left him, though, and the passion with it, he had been ashamed. For the first time in many centuries, truly, deeply ashamed. So much so that he had sworn an oath to never touch or have another woman until he could have Hera again.<br/><br/>For centuries keeping that oath had been simple. He had lavished in exile, miserable and without need, visiting the distant corners of the world. He had visited other pantheons, where his lusts would go unanswered even if he gave in to them, and spent time among mortals who valued their self-control and strove to teach himself their ways. But as society's opinion changed, so too did his needs and wants. As more came to view him as more of a sex-fueled buffoon than a noble king among gods, his urges had grown apace. The first night he had been forced to break his vow had left him so full of shame that a storm followed him for weeks after, torrential rain and thunder echoing for miles. It had grown no easier since. The rain outside intensified as his mind strayed to his transgressions, and he tried to quash them back down.<br/><br/>"I have missed you dearly, Hera. I know it may seem strange of me to say so, to be so bold after so long, but haven't I always been more bold than wise? Regardless, I have, and I do. Even if... if things between us cannot be repaired, even if you find you can't love me anymore, I would be happy beyond measure if we could even just be friends... or allies. At bare minimum, not hostile." As he spoke he focused, his eyes flickering with power. He drew upon his hope for the future, the joy her voice gave her, and allowed the more soothing emotions to flow out into the world around him. The rain slowed and then stopped entirely, though the clouds didn't disperse entirely.<br/><br/>"I like this new technology. It makes it much easier to be brave," he joked, then sighed. "But I shouldn't say too much just yet, mm? Best to save some of this sentiment for lunch. Would it be strange if I asked you to bring any recent photos you have of our children...?"