They think her cruel and aloof, the other Olympians. Even her own son believes so. He tells her the bloodlust he so greatly possesses is a gift from his lineage. She knows it is not from her that Ares came to crave violence. But they are all guilty of violence in their own devices. Apollo seems to follow Zeus' example. (She thinks bitterly of Zeus and his many unwilling women.) Artemis, sweet as she is with her nymphs, would slice a mortal throat if she were in the mood. Posiedon was one of the most despicable. Even Athena, clever and brilliant and Zeus' favorite, was the most spiteful of all the goddesses.
They say she is cruel.
Yet she remembers a time, perhaps her sisters and brothers have all forgotten, when she was soft and loved. Her mother braided her hair gently, for she knew Hera was prone to tear up at the slightest pull. Hestia and Demeter begged to hear her sing. ("Sing for us, sister!")
Even Posiedon petted her hair when she greeted him. He liked to tease her constantly.
And her brother Hades (lovely Hades who was now so far away) would sit with her in the fields and give her berries and laugh. How close they had been. For when their father had trapped them all in the pit of his dark belly, Hera had reached for her closest sibling. The two eldest goddesses, Hestia and Demeter had clung to each other in silence as Posiedon, being the youngest, threw himself against them to be shielded in their arms. But Hera had found him in the dark, her eldest brother. And when they were freed, shouts of joy surrounded them but all Hera could see was the fine, pale face before her. She was a meek child then, flowers in her hair and a crown of joy upon her silly unknowing head. They loved her, didn't they? When she laughed and forgave them their egos.
She remembers that time.
She remembers smiling, singing, pushing, screaming, saying "no" over and over until it became yes and they placed her upon a throne and Zeus called her Queen. Queen of all, he promised. Shamed and defeated, she accepted. Yes, Hera is cruel. She laughs when the armored maiden Athena tells her this. What would the virgin, for all her cleverness, know of foul hands eagerly plucking apart petals? Let them call her cruel for how much they have forgotten her wails of pain as she was torn apart by their king. How they have forgotten their pleads for forgiveness when no amount of begging could save her.
Yes, she will be cruel as they are.
She will be so because no amount of kindness ever saved her.