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I yawned, throwing my head back in a manner that was anything but godlike. But for a minor god like me, it was perfect. The sun bathed my skin in warmth, and the gentle rustle of leaves overhead lulled me into my usual state of listlessness. This was my routine: basking in the sunlight or dozing beneath a tree. It was practically my divine duty, and I loved every minute of it. What I didn’t love was interaction—talking, companionship... like now.
“So, which god do you want to be in the company of?” a nymph asked, her voice light and teasing.
I rolled my eyes, feeling the weight of the question drag me from my peaceful stupor. All I wanted was to get back to my nap, but their giggles and blushing cheeks suggested that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. I exhaled sharply, hoping this conversation would end soon. But I knew it wouldn’t. Gods never believed in forever, and frankly, I didn’t even enjoy my own company, let alone theirs.
I shrugged “Hephaestus.” The group of nymphs exchanged confused glances, their brows knitting together in concern. Shallow as always.
Sure, he was far from their ideal image of beauty, but he was powerful—strong, in fact. He created things with his hands, and best of all, he left me alone. My eyelids began to droop as the soft grass beneath me coaxed me into sleep.
“Hephaestus?” one nymph asked, her nose wrinkling in disgust.
I groaned, the sound rumbling in my chest. “He’s devoted,” I muttered, trying to stifle another yawn. They still didn’t seem convinced, their faces twisting into frowns, eyes wide with disbelief. “And he’s good at his craft... there’s more to people than looks,” I added, though my voice was thick with sleep, and my words came out slower as I drifted off.
"But he's
Aphrodite's
husband," one of the nymphs piped up again, her tone laced with indignation. I sighed inwardly. Why was I the one being persecuted? It wasn’t like the goddess of love and beauty even cared about her husband. But still, the last thing I needed was to make an enemy of
her
, even if this was just a ridiculous conversation about an imaginary crush. I scratched my chin, feeling a yawn coming on.
"You picked Zeus, and you chose Poseidon. I don’t think
wives
are the problem here," I shot back with a lazy wave of my hand. "Frankly, I’m tired. I just want to sleep."
Without waiting for a response, I spread myself out on the grass like a starfish, arms flung wide, sinking back into the soft earth beneath me. Dreamland was calling, and I was more than ready to answer.
"You like Hephaestus?" a curious voice chimed in, but I kept my eyes closed, already half-asleep.
"I guess," I muttered dismissively, giving a lazy wave for them to leave me alone.
"You’re quite brave... admitting that to his
wife
," the voice said with a newfound sharpness.
My eyes snapped open, and I immediately regretted it. Standing above me was Aphrodite herself, her radiant form shifting, morphing into something unnervingly... appealing. I shook my head, groaning internally. I had really screwed myself this time.
"It’s only in fantasy,
Lady,
" I stammered, trying to salvage the situation, though the words tasted bitter in my mouth.
She raised a hand, silencing me with a wicked, cat-like grin that sent shivers down my spine. Her eyes gleamed with mischief, as though she had been planning this moment all along. Figures the nymphs had all but vanished leaving me to my fate.
"I want a
divorce,
" she announced, her voice carrying a certain finality.
I blinked, trying to process her words.
Divorce?
I didn’t even know gods could
separate
.
"Ohh, um, congrats?" I stammered awkwardly.
Aphrodite’s eyes glinted as she leaned in slightly. "Hephaestus won’t agree to it on his own, he knows I hate being married to him—" her voice dropped into a harsh, cutting tone—"but if he were to love another, he might reconsider." She said it with such a sweet voice, the venom hiding just beneath the surface.
"Uh, yeah, that... might work." I nodded, though uncertainty gnawed at me.
"I want you to be with Hephaestus," she continued, her lips curling into a grin as she clasped her hands together. "So I can be with Ares."
It was no secret she was in love with the god of war. Or, at the very least, she enjoyed their dangerous game of sneaking around. But the idea that she’d go so far as to push her husband into an affair? It seemed far-fetched. Gods and goddesses were notoriously vain. Saying either yes or no felt like a trap.
"Um, ah..." I hesitated, my mind racing for an escape.
Before I could think of one, Aphrodite pulled out a golden-feathered pillow, gleaming with divine craftsmanship. The soft sheen of the gold feathers caught the sunlight.
"I’ll throw in this pillow," she offered with a casual wave, as though it were the most logical thing in the world.
I blinked. A pillow... blessed by a major god? My heart skipped a beat.
"Deal," I blurted, sticking my hand out. She grasped it quickly, her excitement palpable. Her plan had come together far too easily, and it made me uneasy. I clutched the pillow, still uncertain about this entire arrangement.
"I'm not exactly a goddess of beauty. I doubt Hephaestus will... you know, fall for me when he has you," I muttered, glancing sideways at her.
Aphrodite tilted her chin up, nose high, clearly agreeing with my self-assessment. "You’ll figure it out," she said with an almost dismissive tone, adding just enough pressure to make it clear she wasn’t asking—she was telling.
Hephaestus—the god of blacksmithing, carpentry, fire, and a whole host of other things. It seemed unfair, really, how the major gods not only had worshipers by the droves, but they also got all the career choices. Meanwhile, I had just one. And it wasn’t even a good one. That thought reminded me I was still standing in the middle of Hephaestus’s workshop, talking to the very god I had been thinking about.
At least he didn’t seem pissed that I’d just strolled into his workspace unannounced. He stood near the roaring forge, muscles flexing as he tossed more coal into the fire, preparing for another project. Sparks flew, dancing in the air like tiny fireflies.
"I heard what you said," he muttered vaguely, not even bothering to look up from his work.
I blinked, trying to decipher what he was talking about. Was he referring to that whole awkward conversation with Aphrodite? My chest tightened slightly. "Oh, that? Don’t worry about it," I said quickly, waving it off with a nonchalant hand. I wasn’t about to force something that would never happen.
Hephaestus paused for a moment, turning slightly toward me. His expression was unreadable beneath the flickering light of the forge. "So, you lied about liking me," he said, his voice rough but steady as he crossed his massive arms.
My heart dropped. Great. Of all the things to hold onto from that conversation, this had to be it.
"I didn’t lie," I said, crossing my arms as well, more in defense than confidence. "I picked you because of your attention to your work. You’re... less artificial than the other gods. And, uh, I’m pretty sure if I fell asleep here, you’d just step over me."
He stared at me, one eyebrow quirking upward as if I’d said something completely bizarre. "So... I’m convenient for you?"
I hesitated, feeling the weight of his question. "It works both ways," I tried to argue, my voice faltering slightly under his intense gaze.
Hephaestus studied me for a long moment, his dark eyes glinting with the firelight, and I couldn’t tell if he was amused or insulted. Probably both. The forge crackled behind him, casting long shadows across the room, adding to the tension.
"Think about it," I said quickly, trying to keep my voice calm. "I wouldn’t cheat. Too much hassle, honestly. I don’t care if you work day in and day out; it leaves me more time to sleep, and—"
"This sounds like a proposal," Hephaestus interrupted, raising an eyebrow at my rushed words.
I blinked. Was it?
"Aphrodite wants me to break you up with her—" I began, but the moment those words left my mouth, Hephaestus’s expression darkened, and he looked ready to smite me on the spot. I shot my hands up defensively.
"But this could really work out for you!" I blurted, backing up a step. "Just agree to the divorce."
"Why?" His voice was dangerously low, and I knew if I didn’t come up with a good answer fast, I’d be lucky if he only threw me into the forest.
I scrambled for a response. "Only the three of us—me, you, and Aphrodite—know about this plan. If you dump her first in front of everyone, she’ll be furious because she didn’t get to do it first!" I said, a little too enthusiastically.
Hephaestus stopped, his brow furrowing as he contemplated this. There was a long pause, the air thick with the crackle of the forge.
"Besides," I added, trying to sound more certain than I felt, "I doubt you even like Aphrodite...?" The last part came out more as a question.
Hephaestus narrowed his eyes, studying me for what felt like an eternity. "What do you get out of this, besides an upset goddess of love and beauty?"
I winced. "More like the goddess of petty."
Hephaestus let out a deep chuckle, and my heart skipped a beat. Wait... I said that out loud, didn’t I?
"I mean, I’ve still got this pillow," I continued, holding it up like it was a shield against divine retribution.
"You know she’ll be more than mad at you," he warned, his smirk fading slightly.
"Hey, I did everything she asked me to do. And I still get to keep this pillow," I said, hugging it tighter for emphasis.
Hephaestus’s eyes softened for a moment as he considered. Then, with a sigh, he grunted, "Alright."
I blinked. It worked.
I stood off to the side, the atmosphere crackling with tension as the gods gathered, eager for the spectacle about to unfold. Hephaestus stood tall and resolute, the forge's glow casting flickering shadows on his stern face. Across from him, Aphrodite was a whirlwind of beauty and fury, her radiant smile twisted into a scowl.
"Hephaestus," she began, her voice dripping with sugary sweetness that barely masked her irritation. "We need to talk."
He nodded, his expression unreadable. "I think it's time we ended this." The words fell from his lips like hammer strikes on an anvil, sharp and definitive.
A collective gasp rippled through the gathered deities. I could feel the energy shift, all eyes darting between them. Aphrodite's eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her face, quickly morphing into rage.
"You what?" she hissed, her perfectly manicured hands balling into fists. "You can't just do this! I was going to—"
"Too bad," Hephaestus interrupted, his voice steady and unyielding. "I won’t be your second choice anymore, Aphrodite. I deserve better."
The goddess of love seethed, her fury palpable. "You think you can just toss me aside? You think you’re in control here?" Her voice rose, echoing through the hall like a battle cry.
I instinctively stepped back, clutching my golden-feathered pillow closer to my chest. This was more intense than I had imagined, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand there without being swept into the chaos.
Aphrodite’s glare flicked toward me, her expression a storm of betrayal and fury. “And you—what are you even doing here?”
I raised the pillow defensively, unsure whether to cower or wave it like a flag of truce. “You're welcome!” I squeaked, my voice trembling. The words felt ridiculous the moment they left my mouth, and I immediately regretted my boldness.
The gods around us snickered, the tension breaking slightly at my expense. Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought she might actually strike me down.
"Don’t you dare get involved in this!" she spat, but Hephaestus stepped forward, his presence solid and unwavering.
"This is my decision," he said, glancing at me with a hint of gratitude. “I’m not going to let you manipulate me anymore, Aphrodite. I’m done.”
With those words, the finality hung in the air like the last note of a symphony, and I felt a strange mixture of relief and dread wash over me. The scene before me was a spectacle—one I hadn’t anticipated—but it was also exhilarating in a way. Hephaestus had taken control, and I could only hope that this would lead to better things.
After the storm of emotions settled, the atmosphere shifted once more. Hephaestus stood tall, an air of quiet confidence radiating from him, as he turned to me, his expression serious yet unreadable. The other gods shifted in their seats, their curiosity palpable as they anticipated what was about to unfold.
"I have another proposal," he said, his voice steady. My heart raced—not out of fear, but intrigue. "I think we should marry."
I blinked, processing his words. Was he serious? Shock washed over me, gradually giving way to a wave of fatigue. Marriage? Just a convenient arrangement, no strings attached—at least that’s what I hoped. I nodded, striving to keep my expression neutral. “Alright.”
Aphrodite, still seething from being unceremoniously dumped, fixed us with a furious glare. “You had me—the goddess of love and beauty—and you’re picking a minor god to replace me?” Her voice dripped with disdain, her fiery anger almost tangible. Yet Hephaestus ignored her, his focus unwavering as he awaited my response.
“I agree, you want to marry me?” I said, surprising even myself with the flicker of defiance that surged within me. But beneath that bravado, my thoughts drifted back to my favorite pastime: sleep. A comfortable bed, a warm blanket... I longed for the quiet solace of slumber.
“Zeus will allow the divorce once we find our footing,” Hephaestus added, his gaze steady and reassuring, standing resolutely beside me.
“Great,” I mumbled, feeling the weight of exhaustion tugging at my eyelids. “Can we get this over with? I really need to rest.”
“Do you agree?” Hephaestus asked, his tone softening, a hint of concern threading through his stoicism.
“Yeah, sure,” I replied, though my mind was already wandering to dreams of soft pillows and the peace that awaited me in sleep. “It sounds... convenient.”
He nodded, and in that moment, a strange understanding passed between us. We were two unlikely partners, both stoic yet comfortable in this peculiar arrangement. The gods around us murmured, their voices a distant hum as I became lost in thought
Hephaestus broke up with Aphrodite, and, boy, did the plan succeed. She was furious. Did she also try to beat the living daylights out of me? Yep. But did it come out looking like Hephaestus was the one in control? Absolutely. He was practically glowing with pride afterward, and frankly, he might as well have been crowned king with how smug he looked.
I, on the other hand, was curled up on the floor of his palace, the cool marble beneath me softened by the divine pillow I had somehow managed to keep. As Hephaestus strode past, I snuggled deeper into the pillow, making even the stone floor feel like heaven.
"Is this all you plan to do?" he grumbled, stepping over me with a sigh. The shadows of his massive frame stretched across the hall.
I yawned lazily, shifting into a more comfortable position. "Today... and tomorrow," I mumbled, my voice muffled by the pillow.
Hephaestus let out another heavy sigh, clearly wondering how in Hades I managed to exist like this. He paused at the door, casting a glance back at me, sprawled out like a starfish on his palace floor. "Can you at least move out of the halls?" he requested, exasperation creeping into his voice.
I cracked an eye open, meeting his gaze with a half-lidded, sleepy stare. Clutching the pillow tighter and rolling over onto my side.
His deep voice echoed as he turned away, muttering something I was too tired to catch.
"Not what I had in mind,"
was the last thing I heard before drifting back into sleep.
Hephaestus was sewing something together, though I couldn't quite make out what it was. As I slipped beside him, stifling a yawn, I hugged my beloved pillow tighter. “Is that pillow really all that comfy?” he asked, glancing over at me.
“I would die with it,” I replied in a low, mock-threatening voice, as if daring him to part me from my treasured possession.
He rolled his eyes, a hint of amusement dancing in his gaze. I listened as he worked, his hands moving with expert precision. The way he crafted was nothing short of mesmerizing.
“Very pretty hands,” I mumbled, still half-asleep.
“Not a soul has ever called a single part of me pretty,” he replied, a note of disbelief in his tone.
I looked up at him, my gaze earnest. “I think they are. You can make everything and do so much… it kinda seems—” I yawned, my words trailing off, “S’waste not to tell you.”
Hephaestus paused for a moment, a softness entering his expression. As he resumed his work, the rhythmic sound of his craft lulled me into a deeper slumber.
When I finally woke, I found myself still resting, but this time against the warmth of his shoulder. My beloved pillow was gone, replaced by one of superior quality. Confused, I blinked and felt the softness enveloping me.
“Don’t think too much on it,” he said, his voice clipped and cool. “I hated having something that reminded me of my ex-wife in my home.”
I stared at the plush pillow in my arms, marveling at its softness. “I love it. Thank you,” I said, looking up at him with bright eyes. My gratitude spilled over, but his stern gaze remained unwavering.
He shrugged, trying to maintain his distance, though I caught a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—a momentary crack in his carefully constructed facade. “Just a minor upgrade,” he replied, his tone dismissive, but I could sense the faintest hint of pride beneath the surface.
I struggled to stay awake as Hephaestus spoke, his low baritone voice resonating like a soothing hum. I rubbed my eyes, desperately trying to keep them open while he paced back and forth, his movements purposeful and steady.
Something about... a party? Gods loved to party, but I usually avoided them. The thought of mingling with other gods and goddesses made my stomach churn. Especially Aphrodite—she was still furious with me, and the fact that she was with the god of war only made it ten times worse. I didn’t even want to imagine what new ways she’d devised to stab me metaphorically.
Y/n,” Hephaestus snapped, his tone taut with irritation, pulling me back to the moment.
I jolted upright, eyes wide. “I’m awake!” I shouted a bit too loudly, and he shot me a look that was both disappointed and fed up.
“I wish you could stay awake for one conversation,” he muttered, rubbing his temples, the frustration evident in every line of his face.
“Sorry, I’m really trying, I just—” I began, but before I could finish, I felt my eyelids growing heavy again.
With an exasperated sigh, he clapped his hands sharply in front of me. “I’m up!” I exclaimed, scrambling to focus, my voice tinged with a mix of panic and determination.
He regarded me with a mixture of annoyance and something softer, as if he couldn’t quite reconcile his frustration with the fondness that occasionally flickered in his eyes. “You can’t keep dozing off every time I talk. It’s getting old,” he said, his voice gruff but edged with an undeniable concern.
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. “I’ll do better,” I promised, hoping to bridge the gap between us as he continued his explanation, even as the call of sleep lingered just out of reach.
“At this point, I wonder how you even ascended to godhood,” Hephaestus said, exasperation lacing his words. I felt my face heat up, embarrassed by my constant sleepiness and reluctant to share the story of how it all happened.
“I’ll try to stay awake for the big party. Don’t worry, I have a plan!” I replied, my excitement bubbling over as I imagined being a proper goddess for the night. He had no choice but to trust me.
“At least don’t fall asleep during my father’s speech,” he warned, a hint of seriousness creeping into his tone.
I nodded vigorously. “Got it!”
“Get ready. Just... don’t fall asleep on the stairs,” he added, his voice heavy with concern.
“Understood!” I said cheerfully as I headed off to prepare. Hephaestus gave a curt nod and went to get ready as well.
As I rummaged through my things, I felt a surge of determination. I had just the plan to stay awake. Gods couldn’t get majorly injured, but they could definitely feel pain. I reached for the needles I’d cleverly placed in my shoes. With those digging into my feet, there was no way I could doze off.
Satisfied with my plan, I slipped into my shoes and headed to meet Hephaestus, ready to prove that I could stay awake for the entire evening.
It was painful—more painful than I had imagined. The needles in my shoes felt like tiny daggers, but I was wide awake. As I sat beside Hephaestus, Zeus had just finished delivering his grand speech. I had definitely heard every word, and I counted it as a win!
But then I felt warm liquid trickle down my shoes, and when I glanced down, I noticed it was golden liquid. Hephaestus nudged me with a disapproving look, and I nodded, forcing myself to focus on Zeus as he wrapped up his grand address.
His voice boomed through the hall, congratulating his children—Hephaestus and Ares—on their marriage. The air was thick with tension, and I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me.
As I stood, I bit my lip to stifle a painful sob. Hephaestus glanced at me, his expression a mixture of acknowledgment and concern. I could see the flicker of empathy in his eyes as he nodded, but I couldn’t help feeling like I was in over my head.
As I stood, I bit my lip to stifle a painful sob. Hephaestus glanced at me, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern. I forced out a smile, hoping to mask the turmoil inside me. We sank back into our seats, the lavish hall around us buzzing with laughter and music, the flickering candlelight casting playful shadows on the walls.
“Do you wish to dance?” Hephaestus asked, his tone surprisingly firm. I realized we had reached that part of the party—the moment when couples twirled across the polished marble floor.
“I’m fine,” I replied quickly, but he didn’t relent.
“I’m asking you to dance with me,” he insisted, and before I could protest, he took my hand with a gentle but unwavering grip.
I hesitated, glancing down at my feet where the sharp needles still jabbed into my skin. “Mind if I—” I started, hoping to excuse myself and find a place to remove the painful little torture devices. But Hephaestus’s hold was steady, and his gaze held mine, unwavering.
“You’re just going to fall asleep. One dance is all I’m asking,” he said, and despite the ache in my feet, I nodded. A whole dance might just kill me, but I couldn’t refuse him—not when his voice held that rare note of earnestness.
“Sure,” I said, tilting my head to force a smile, the warmth of his hand contrasting with the chill of my discomfort.
As we moved toward the dance floor, I could feel the eyes of the other gods upon us—some curious, some envious. The music swelled, and with each tiny step, I fought against the pain, determined to keep my head above the swirling chaos around us.
As the music swelled, I forced a smile, the pain from the needles digging into my feet almost unbearable. Hephaestus stood beside me, his expression as cold as ever, the hint of annoyance in his eyes making it clear he wasn't thrilled to be dancing with me.
“Try to look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he muttered, his voice low and sharp. I nodded, determined not to let the discomfort show, even as each step felt like a fresh stab of pain.
We stepped into the rhythm, Hephaestus moving steadily despite the limp that marked his gait. I focused on the music, trying to block out the sensations radiating from my feet, but every shift of weight sent jolts of agony racing up my legs. I gritted my teeth, forcing my smile wider.
“Is this really the best you can do?” he asked, glancing down at me with an eyebrow raised. “You’re practically a statue.”
“Just—” I started, but the words caught in my throat. I was trying my best! But all I could think about was the pain, the sharp needles digging deeper with every beat.
Hephaestus turned his gaze away, scanning the crowd as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Focus, Y/n. If you fall asleep again, I swear I’ll leave you on the floor.”
I felt heat rise to my cheeks, embarrassment washing over me. I didn’t want to ruin this moment, but my feet were screaming for relief. I nearly stumbled, and he caught me with a firm grip, his expression unyielding.
As the song began to fade, he finally stopped, holding my hand up to kiss my knuckles with both formality and indifference. “Good night,” he said, his tone cool, almost dismissive.
“Good night,” I replied, still smiling, though it felt increasingly stiff as the pain threatened to overwhelm me.
As I turned to leave, a sharp pain shot through my foot, and I winced. Glancing down, I noticed golden droplets trailing behind me—my mark on the floor. I hurried away, wanting nothing more than to escape the ache and the humiliation, leaving Hephaestus behind, his cold demeanor still lingering in the air.
As I made my way back to Hephaestus’s home, each step felt like a test of endurance. The pain from the needles was relentless, stabbing at me with every movement. I gritted my teeth, trying to focus on the familiar path rather than the throbbing in my feet.
The grand halls of the palace were eerily quiet compared to the lively atmosphere of the party. Shadows danced along the walls, and the flickering torches cast a warm glow that did little to soothe the chill settling in my bones. My thoughts drifted back to the dance—Hephaestus’s stern expression, the way he seemed so detached, as if my discomfort barely registered with him.
With every step, the contrast between the vibrant celebration and the solitude of my walk became more pronounced. I wished I could shake off the feeling of inadequacy, the nagging thought that I had embarrassed him. He was the god of craftsmanship, and here I was, barely holding it together.
Finally, I reached the door to his workshop, relief washing over me as I stepped inside. The familiar scent of molten metal and wood shavings wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. But even here, the lingering pain in my feet served as a harsh reminder of the evening's missteps.
I leaned against a workbench, hoping to gather my thoughts and regain some semblance of composure. The quiet was a stark contrast to the chaos of the party, and for a moment, I just let the silence envelop me, closing my eyes and wishing for the pain to fade away.
As I finally slipped off my shoes, a sigh of relief escaped me. The soles of my feet were stained with gold, the color shimmering against the dim light of the workshop. Just as I was about to settle into the comforting quiet, the door swung open, and Hephaestus stepped in.
He paused, his gaze snapping to my feet. "Why are your feet bleeding?" His voice was low, a whisper as if we weren’t the only two in this room.
I fidgeted with my fingers, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "Needles," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
He scowled, his brow furrowing. "Did Aphrodite—That bitch, how dare she insult you—”
I interrupted him, raising my hands in defense. "No, no. I did it." His confusion deepened, and he knelt down to examine my feet more closely.
"Why? Why would you do that?" he asked, incredulous.
I sighed, the weight of the evening pressing down on me. "It was... the only way I could think to stay awake. I’m just no good at keeping my eyes open. Sorry, Hephaestus."
His expression softened for a moment, though the sternness lingered in his eyes. "You could have just told me you needed help staying awake."
I shrugged, my gaze dropping to the floor. "I didn’t want to be a burden. I thought... I thought it would work. And it did! I'm already healed up anyway." I stood up, attempting to prove my point, but the world swayed slightly as I did.
Hephaestus, still seated, regarded me with a mixture of annoyance and concern. "You..." He paused, studying my face as if searching for the right words. "Must be tired... come rest."
Before I could respond, he pulled me into his arms. The warmth of his embrace enveloped me, a stark contrast to the coldness that usually surrounded him. Confused, I nestled against his chest, the tension in my body easing slightly.
"Is this... alright?" I murmured, half-expecting him to push me away.
He didn’t answer right away, his fingers gently brushing my hair back as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Just for a moment," he replied, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. "You’ve earned it after tonight."
I closed my eyes, letting myself sink deeper into the warmth. It felt nice, being close to someone so warm, so solid. The weight of his presence made it easier to let go, to rest.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When I woke, the rhythmic pounding of a hammer on steel filled the air. Odd how that sound hadn’t woken me sooner. I blinked groggily, taking in the sight of a bed positioned disturbingly close to Hephaestus’s forge—a new addition. The blankets were soft, and my favorite pillow was nestled beneath my head. Rubbing my eyes, I yawned, stretching slightly.
"How long... how long was I, asleep for?" I asked, still shaking off the remnants of slumber.
Hephaestus wiped sweat from his brow with a towel, his usual work-worn stoicism settling on his face. "A week," he replied, his voice even. He sat beside me on the bed, a rare gentleness in his demeanor. "...I've perhaps been too hard on you."
"S'okay," I mumbled, sitting up slowly. "Nothing you've said isn’t untrue." I gave a half-hearted chuckle, feeling the weight of his words sink in. I did fall asleep a lot—mid-conversation, in random hallways, and I could be a nuisance when left alone for too long.
Hephaestus’s gaze flicked away briefly before returning to me. "Though this marriage isn’t what either of us imagined," he continued, his voice quieter now, "you have been true to your word. Unlike my time before... I’m relieved of the burden of worrying my wife might stray."
There was a heaviness in his words, a quiet confession wrapped in the cold logic that had been his shield for so long. I looked at him, trying to find something comforting to say, but instead, I just nodded. He wasn't wrong—this arrangement was strange, but we were both doing our best.
I lay back down, pulling the blanket up to my chin. "At least you don’t have to worry about me running off anywhere," I muttered, half-asleep already. "I’ll just... fall asleep on the way."
Hephaestus let out a soft snort, a rare hint of amusement, before standing up and returning to his forge, the hammering resuming its steady rhythm.
Weirdly, what should have been an annoying noise—constant hammering on metal—was kind of nice. I’d always been great at tuning things out anyway. It was almost... soothing in its own way.
Hephaestus was still just as cold as ever, distant and stern. But now, when I woke up, it wasn’t on the floor, in the grass, or slumped awkwardly off the side of the couch. I always found myself in the bed closest to his forge. The warmth of the forge seemed to wrap around me, keeping the chill of the palace at bay.
And sometimes, when I woke up, there were gifts. Bracelets with intricate designs, necklaces made of shiny, polished metals—each one crafted with meticulous care. But my favorite gift so far was the new bed and the soft, warm blankets that came with it. It wasn’t the most extravagant present he’d given me, but there was something about it that felt... intentional. Like it was meant just for me.
No words of affection. No tenderness. But still, every time I woke up there, it felt like his way of making sure I was cared for, even if he’d never admit it.
I woke up just as Hephaestus was moving me, cradling me in his strong arms. Groggily, I looked up at him and nuzzled into his neck. "Nice and warm," I mumbled, my voice muffled against his skin.
Hephaestus let out a low, exasperated sigh. "I don’t know why you insist on sleeping in such thoughtless places," he grumbled as he carried me.
I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck. "Don’t mean to," I whispered, half-asleep. "Sometimes it's just nice under the sun... or cool on the floor. The couch is too small and I just... fall off."
He placed me gently onto the bed, tucking the blanket over me like it was routine. "Don’t you ever rest?" I asked, my eyes half-lidded but curious.
"Unlike you, most gods don’t need to rest," he said, his voice gruff, tinged with annoyance.
"But don’t you want to? It’s nice. And this bed you made... It's the best. Want to give it a try?" I offered with a soft smile, hoping he’d indulge me.
Hephaestus stared at me for a moment, his brow furrowed, considering. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he climbed into the bed beside me.
I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face, feeling like I’d won some small victory. He was like a big, warm furnace, and I snuggled closer.
"Why are you grinning like a fool?" he asked, his tone flat but not entirely unkind.
"Because you’re nice and warm," I replied, still smiling.
"Not much to look at though, am I?" he muttered bitterly, the self-loathing creeping into his voice.
I looked at him, frowning at his words. "You’re many things—hard worker, creative... Besides, bring any minor god up here, and I think they’d pale in comparison to you."
He was quiet for a moment, his hands coming to rest on my back, heavy but not unpleasant. "You make me tired just looking at you," he muttered, but his touch was gentle.
"Sorry," I whispered.
"It’s fine," he said, the words softer than expected. And in that small moment, the space between us felt a little less cold.
I watched as Hephaestus tossed papers into the fire, watching them curl and blacken in the flames, while carefully setting aside a small pile on the workbench. "What are those?" I asked, curiosity stirring as he meticulously sorted through them.
"Order forms," he replied, his focus not wavering. "People send me requests, and I organize them by importance."
I watched as he worked on something delicate—a crown made of golden leaves, thin and intricate, with tiny, dangling pieces that shimmered in the firelight. A veil was draped over it, adding an ethereal quality. It was beautiful, like something meant for a goddess.
"What do you think?" Hephaestus asked, his voice a little softer than usual.
"Super pretty..." I mumbled, forcing my eyes to stay open. "Hera is gonna like it."
"It’s not for Hera," he said flatly.
I hummed, trying to think through the haze of sleep. "Don’t think Athena can fight with that," I mused, my mind drifting. Then something clicked. "Wait... why were you burning the forms then?"
A wicked grin spread across Hephaestus’s face, his eyes gleaming with a rare flicker of amusement. "Anything Ares or Aphrodite requests goes straight into the fire."
I couldn’t help but laugh at that, a tired but genuine sound. "That’s nice. Maybe they’ll send more... makes the room warmer," I said, sinking into the bed, my body heavy with exhaustion.
Hephaestus joined me, pulling me gently up so I wouldn’t fall asleep just yet. I watched him as he carefully placed the golden crown over my head, his large hands surprisingly tender. His fingers brushed my cheek, and I blinked up at him, the sudden touch making me more alert.
"For you, princess," he said, his voice low and steady.
My breath caught, and I managed a soft, "Thank you..." I glanced at him, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire. "But you know... you don’t have to make me so much stuff. I really appreciate it, but if you’re busy, I’d hate to get in the way of your work."
Hephaestus's expression hardened slightly, the warmth retreating as he returned to his usual cold demeanor. "I’m never too busy for what I choose to create," he said gruffly, but there was an undertone of something else—something that made me think maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as indifferent as he let on.
I rested my head against his solid shoulder, feeling the warmth radiate through the cool air of the forge. "M'kay, I don’t know what I can do to repay you for all the wonderful things you give me," I mumbled, my voice drowsy. "Just tell me if you think of something..."
Hephaestus interrupted, his voice gruff, yet softer than usual. "You allowed me into your bed once before," he said, hesitating. His rough hand stopped working. "Seeing you sleep… it makes me feel... tired as well." He paused, his eyes avoiding mine. "Would you... allow me to join you when I need rest?"
I blinked up at him, giving a small, sleepy smile. "Of course. How about now?" I tilted my head, gently pushing him toward the bed, causing a faint groan of resistance from him, but no real effort to stop me.
Hephaestus’s brow furrowed as he lowered himself onto the bed, his body stiff against the plush softness beneath him. "It’ll just be for a short while," he murmured, as though trying to justify it more to himself than to me.
I chuckled, curling up against his chest, my face just inches from his. "Much better, right?" I whispered, my eyes beginning to close as the warmth of his skin and the scent of smoke and metal filled my senses.
His gaze finally met mine, lingering for a brief moment before he glanced away, almost uncomfortable. "Right..." he muttered. His hand hovered uncertainly at my back, then finally rested there.
"Just push me aside when you wake," I said, my voice a soft murmur. "I feel like I might sleep for days." A faint smile tugged at my lips, and as I nestled against him, his body slowly relaxed into the bed, his eyes drifting shut, even if just for a little while.
Hephaestus stood in front of me, his towering form casting a shadow over the soft light that spilled through the room. I tilted my head to the side, feeling something light settle around my neck. A cool sensation—the touch of finely crafted gold. "Whatcha doing?" I asked, my voice still heavy with sleep.
Hephaestus paused, his hand lingering on the necklace as he fastened it at the back. There was a slight hesitation in his movements, as though choosing his words carefully. "We’re having brunch with the family," he finally said, his tone gruff yet measured. "I was going to wake you as soon as I finished placing some jewelry on you."
His large, calloused hands then moved to my wrist, securing a delicate gold bracelet, its intricate design catching the morning light. I glanced down, noticing I was already fully dressed in a flowing gown, my skin adorned with his masterpieces.
I stretched lazily. "Well, I’m all dressed, that’s nice. Thanks for that" I said, not overly concerned about how it happened. He was my husband, after all.
Hephaestus’s face flushed immediately, a deep, almost painful red that spread like fire across his cheeks, hotter than the heat of his forge. "No!" he blurted, his voice uncharacteristically strained. "Some nymphs dressed you. I’m only placing the jewelry on," he clarified, his hands pulling away as though they’d been burned. His usual composure cracked for a moment, revealing the tension beneath his cold demeanor.
I blinked at him, amused by his reaction. "Oh," I mused, leaning back slightly. "I guess it would be too much to ask a god to do that."
Hephaestus’s brow furrowed, his expression suddenly serious as he straightened. "I would never touch you while you slept, Y/n," he said firmly, the gravel in his voice softening just slightly.
I shrugged, playing with the bracelet. "You’re my husband..." I met his gaze, my voice softer. "I wouldn’t be upset."
Hephaestus’s eyes flickered, his hardened exterior briefly wavering. He turned away, hiding the faint blush that still lingered on his face. "That’s not the point," he muttered, but didn’t say anything more, retreating into the work of securing the last piece of jewelry.
Finally, Hephaestus reached for the crown, his fingers brushing past the delicate metal as he placed it gently over my head. His eyes narrowed in concentration, adjusting the golden leaves until they sat perfectly. The veil draped softly down my back, its sheer fabric barely grazing my skin.
He stepped back slightly, his face momentarily breaking into something that resembled satisfaction. Hephaestus seemed genuinely pleased with his work, but the focus in his eyes stayed sharp, meticulous, as he began touching each piece he’d placed on me—his large hand wrapping easily around my wrist to adjust the bracelet. His hands, though calloused and rough from years of labor, felt surprisingly warm as they moved with careful precision.
When his fingers found their way to the necklace, he leaned in, his brow furrowed, oblivious to the intimate nature of his touch. His hand brushed across the center of my chest, unknowingly lingering between my breasts, entirely absorbed in the delicate placement of the jewelry. His movements were so deliberate, so focused on his craft, that he seemed unaware of how close we were, of the warmth shared between us.
To him, it was all about perfection, the art of his creation. But to me, his touch was something far more intimate, far more personal. Hephaestus never even noticed how each subtle motion drew us closer, how his hands—those skilled hands—could make the smallest adjustment feel like something more.
I stayed quiet, my face growing hotter as Hephaestus's hands slid high up my thighs, adjusting the fabric without a second thought. "What do you think?" he asked, his voice low as he leaned in closer, inspecting every detail of his work. "I have more gold—perhaps I can add some pieces to your ears, or maybe—"
His face was so close to mine now that I could feel the warmth of his breath. My heart quickened, and I instinctively glanced away, my skin flushing under his touch. His hands, so used to molding metal, seemed to forget they were now touching something more delicate—me.
As he hovered there, adjusting and tweaking the placement of the jewelry, I could hardly focus. The closeness, the intensity of his concentration—it all had me flustered. I swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks, my lips parting slightly as I tried to steady my breathing.
Then, Hephaestus paused. His sharp eyes, still narrowed in concentration, finally seemed to catch on. He pulled his hands back abruptly, a slight furrow creasing his brow as realization dawned. For a moment, he just stared at me, as if noticing for the first time how intimate his actions had been.
"I lost myself," Hephaestus murmured, his voice unusually soft as he stepped back. His hands lingered in the air for a moment before dropping to his sides, guilt shadowing his eyes. "Forgive me."
I nodded, swallowing the nerves in my throat. "You are my husband... you can do as you like." My voice came out softer than I intended, unsure but trying to convey acceptance.
Hephaestus’s gaze darkened with contemplation as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I lose myself when creating something... beautiful." He glanced at me, his eyes lingering. "I shall try and remind myself you are not just a piece of art."
I blushed even harder at that, my heart skipping a beat at his words. The compliment was unexpected, and the way he said it—like I was something more than just another creation—left me feeling both flattered and overwhelmed.
"I-I don’t mind," I stammered, fidgeting with the hem of my dress. "You can lose yourself, or um... anything." My words came out vague, and I wasn’t even sure what I meant. All I knew was that I didn’t want to disappoint him.
Hephaestus’s expression softened for a brief moment, as though he was trying to understand what I was offering, but he didn’t push. Instead, he gave a faint nod, his lips pressing into a thin line as he turned away.
Hephaestus scooped me up under his arm with a firm yet gentle grip. "Let’s conserve your energy for brunch," he declared, his tone a mix of practicality and warmth.
"Wait, I don’t... what will I do if I fall asleep?" I asked, a hint of urgency in my voice as I hoped he’d understand I needed those pesky needles removed.
He met my gaze with a steady look. "Then you shall sleep on my shoulder or in my lap. You are my wife, a goddess of peaceful sleep. I shall take care of you," he promised, his voice softening slightly at the end.
Feeling a wave of relief, I wrapped my arms around his neck, nuzzling into him. The warmth of his body was comforting, and for a moment, all my worries melted away.
Hephaestus was true to his word; he filled my plate with food and made sure that when I nodded off, it was against his shoulder, rather than next to Hermes, who was watching with an amused smirk.
Aphrodite sat nearby, her false smile barely masking the bitterness in her eyes as she watched the scene unfold. Beside her, Ares laughed loudly, regaling tales of his exploits, completely oblivious to the tension in the air. I leaned comfortably against Hephaestus, feeling safe in his presence.
Aphrodite’s voice sliced through the laughter. "I can’t believe you’re still pretending to love that monster. Doesn’t his face disgust you?" The cruel edge in her tone drew the attention of the table. Hera, sitting nearby, shot her a disapproving look. "You’ve gotten as you like, Aphrodite. You are with Ares. Why not let Hephaestus be?"
Aphrodite, clearly agitated, stood up abruptly. "Hephaestus treats me so cruelly! He didn’t have time to make my new necklace, bracelet, or the crown I asked for! But here he is, showering his wife with gifts!" Her voice dripped with disdain, and I could sense the tension building.
Hephaestus remained silent, wiping his mouth, his expression unreadable. "Why should I make such intimate pieces for anyone but my wife?" he replied, his voice steady but firm. "She has shown me nothing but loyalty. I will never betray her by sending such things to another."
Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed at his words, her anger. The way she glared at me felt like daggers, filled with jealousy and resentment.
"Sure, she may be loyal," Aphrodite sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. "But I doubt she loves you. No one can love you. The only reason I chose her for you was because she couldn't run away!"
Hephaestus's jaw tightened, and I could see the storm brewing behind his eyes. I braced myself, expecting him to stand, to yell, to unleash his anger. But instead, I leaned in, tilting my head to meet his gaze, and pressed my lips against his in front of every god assembled. It was a brief kiss, but it spoke volumes, a silent declaration of our bond.
As our lips parted, I looked deep into his eyes, feeling the weight of the moment. "I love you, Hephaestus. You may never truly feel the same way toward me, but allowing me to be by your side is all I need."
Hephaestus nodded, his expression softening, and for a fleeting moment, the tension seemed to dissipate.
Dionysus, sitting a few seats away, paused mid-bite of his salad, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Never a dull brunch," he quipped, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Zeus, clearly taken aback by the display, raised an eyebrow. "Leave. We're done. Brunch is over." His voice boomed, cutting through the whispers and murmurs that had erupted around the table.
Hephaestus held me close with one arm as we walked back to his forge, the warmth of his presence a comforting contrast to the chill of the marble halls. "Did you mean what you said?" he asked, his voice low and a touch uncertain.
I scratched my head, considering his question. "It is true," I finally replied, my heart steady in its conviction.
He paused, glancing down at me with those soulful eyes. "Why me? There are many others who would fall in love with a delicate creature like you."
I smiled and leaned in to kiss his forehead softly. "Why not you?"
His brow furrowed, and he looked away, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features. "I'm ugly—"
"You can't keep using that as a reason," I interjected gently.
He scoffed, his voice tinged with frustration. "It’s a big one."
I chuckled lightly, shaking my head. "I wouldn't even count that as a con. Here’s a con: you don’t let me sleep next to the fire."
"You almost rolled into it!" he exclaimed, the hint of exasperation in his tone.
"I would have noticed!" I insisted, a playful smirk on my lips.
Hephaestus tightened his grip around me, pulling me closer. The warmth radiating from him enveloped me like a shield against the world. "Just promise you won’t roll into the forge while I’m not watching."
"I promise," I murmured, feeling a wave of affection wash over me as I looked up at him, the warmth of our connection igniting a spark of joy in my heart.
Hephaestus led me to his room, the air thick with a sense of warmth and safety. "I'm tired," he said, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. "Will you join me?"
I smiled, my heart fluttering at the invitation. As he gently placed me in the bed, I nestled into the space closest to him, my head resting against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming me. His hand found its way to my back, a comforting weight that made me feel cherished.
“Will you accept a ring when I make one worthy of you?” he asked, his gaze intense and earnest.
I nodded, feeling a rush of happiness. “Yes, but would you accept one even if I have to buy it?”
“Even if it’s from a second-rate jeweler,” he replied, a playful glint in his eye.
I laughed, knowing full well that everyone was second-rate compared to him. He leaned down, capturing my lips in a gentle kiss, sealing the promise of our bond. As we pulled away, I couldn't help but smile at the warmth of his goodnight kiss, feeling content and at peace.