Page 5 of Loved By Aphrodite

Outside. Air. Sun.

He marched toward the exit, taking each step one at a time, forcing himself to keep moving and not look back. When he found a quiet spot under the shade of a gigantic pine, he put the box down and braced himself against the tree. Closing his eyes, he allowed the air to slowly enter his lungs. Despite himself, the memories he had thought he’d forgotten came rushing back.

The marriage had never been his idea; it had been arranged by Zeus as a “reward” for his loyalty and help during the war with the Titans. Hephaestus had worked day and night from the start to the end of the war, building and designing weapons, chariots, shields, anything they needed to fight against the Titans, as well as the portal door that would ultimately lock them away in Tartarus forever. He gladly would have done it ten times over if it meant their victory, without any kind of reward.

Zeus, however, had insisted on recompensing him once he became the king of the gods and ruled Mount Olympus. One day, he summoned Hephaestus to his palace and declared that his reward would be the hand of the most beautiful goddess of all, Aphrodite.

It had been a different time. Zeus’s victory had earned him the respect of the other gods, and being their king, his word was law. No one said no to Zeus.

Besides, when he saw Aphrodite when Zeus summoned her, he had been too stunned by her beauty to say anything in her presence. For most of his life and during the entire war, Hephaestus had stayed in his workshop, kept the forges and fire going and hardly interacted with the other gods and goddesses. This was the first time he had truly looked upon her, and he’d been awed that she would be his wife.

For a moment he allowed himself that thought, but then remembered who he was—misshapen, ugly Hephaestus with a deformed stump for a leg. It was a joke really, and he decided that he would tell Zeus he could not accept his “gift” and leave at once.

But it was the bruises on her arms and face that made him stay.

A loud whooshing sound jolted him from his thoughts.

What the hell?

It sounded like something was flying overhead.

Or falling.

Glancing up, he saw a bright blur from the sky, hurtling downward. A large ball, a meteorite perhaps, set aflame as it descended from the atmosphere, crashed hard, shaking the earth as it made impact.

Springing into action, Hephaestus rushed toward the fiery ball, which turned out not to be a ball or meteorite. No, the faintly human-shaped outline told him this was a living thing, but the large wings protruding from the figure and the familiar bow next to it made Hephaestus’s heart stop.

“Eros!” He rushed to his ex-stepson’s side, ignoring the acrid smell of burnt skin and feathers. “Eros,” he repeated as he carefully brushed the soot and dirt from the god of love and desire’s face. “Look at me, son. Are you okay?”

Golden lashes fluttered, revealing startling silvery-blue eyes “I…Mother…”

“What happened?” Aside from the burns on his body, Eros’s face was bloody and swollen. Someone had obviously beaten him to a pulp. “Eros, wake up.”

“I want…Mother…” he groaned. “She’s near.”

Hephaestus grit his teeth. Mother and son were linked by their filial relationship as well as their magic, so they could appear at each other’s side if they wished. He’d never seen anyone beaten up this badly, especially not Eros, so he must really be hurting if he was seeking his mother. “Alright, c’mon, let’s get you to her.”

He did his best to be careful as he lifted Eros up, snaking his arm under him. Glancing at the god, he could only sigh.

How many times had he helped Eros when he got in trouble? He’d always been volatile, even as a young demi-god child, fighting with the other children who teased him. How many scrapes had Hephaestus bandaged, how many black eyes had he iced, how many bloody knuckles had he cleaned?

So, he supposed this was par for the course for them.

“You must help me, Eros…yes, that’s it…one foot in front of the other.” He led them toward the barn, dragging Eros along as best he could inside. The guests were concentrated in the middle, though the happy and relaxed atmosphere from earlier was gone, replaced by a buzz of energy that told him they had all heard the crash.

“Who the fuck isthat?” said a loud booming voice that he recognized as Cade Andersen’s. “And why is Hephaestus with him?”

Fuck me.

Where the hell was Aphrodite?

As if he had said the thought aloud, he heard a feminine cry. “Let me through!” Aphrodite pushed her way through the crowd. “Oh, my gods…” She sobbed as she embraced her son. “Eros, what happened?” She glanced up at Hephaestus, tears streaking down her cheeks. “How did you find him?”

“I didn’t. He found me. Or rather, you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He crashed-landed here and I found him. He was calling for you. He probably transported himself here unconsciously.”

---