She remembered him as a bird, feathers wet, bedraggled and trembling within the fabric of her tunic. She loved him then, fragile little thing, and held him close, safe from the battering rain outside. She heard thunder and thought nothing of it but that she was glad this bird, this little sparrow was inside, protected in her arms.
Sometimes she tried still to think of him like that, but it was difficult when he towered over her, All-Father, Thunderer. She thought she was marrying her little brother, thought that he would need her. Even though she knew of Metis, still she thought that she could hold him close to her, and create marriage as that sharing of warmth, perpetuated into eternity.
But he was the storm itself, clouds turning grey and opening. And she was not willing to be soaked by the rain, or to watch it fall on another, whether a Titan woman with old eyes or a frail mortal princess with a pretty face. And so the jealousy, bitter as bile, catching hold of her, making her grasp, frantic, feeling for feathers, for shivering in her husband's wide shoulders.