Page 63 of Where Darkness Bloomed
At last, she reached his side, but she didn’t look at him. Her fingers twined tightly before her. The gesture was small, nearly imperceptible.
But he saw it.
His eyes flicked down, catching the faint tremor before it stilled. It stirred something deep—a fierce, aching protectiveness. An urge to reach out, to steady, to cover her hands with his own.
But he didn’t move. Not yet.
A rare flicker of warmth lit in Zeus’s storm-blue gaze as he looked down on her. “You have heard Hephaestus’s request,” he said. “What say you?”
A single breath of silence.
“I accept.”
Though she spoke softly, the words reverberated through him like a bell struck—a pure, bright note.
Zeus inclined his head, a formal gesture. “Then I grant this request.”
The tightness in Hephaestus’s chest unraveled. Relief surged into pride, fierce and hot as the fires he’d just left behind. He drew a breath, then spoke again.
“I would ask you to proclaim it now, Father.”
At that, Aglaia looked up. Her head turned, eyes flashing up to his. Even in her surprise, she was achingly beautiful, her eyes bright and wondering, her face radiantly flushed.
He held her gaze. And in that moment, he laid himself bare. No mask, no pretense. Only truth. He let her see it all—the need for certainty, the depth of his longing. His resolve to bind what the Fates had placed before them. Whatshehad placed before him.
Zeus chuckled, low and knowing. His gaze flicked between them, a faint smile playing on his lips. “So soon?”
Aglaia’s blush deepened, but Hephaestus didn’t flinch. “A feast on Olympus while mortal blood still stains the earth would be... unseemly.”
A beat of silence.
Zeus rose to his full, commanding height. “As you wish.”
Hephaestus turned to her then, offering his hand. Soft fingers met his calloused palm, her hand small in his own.
“I, Zeus, proclaim valid the marriage of Hephaestus, god of fire and forge, to Aglaia, goddess of beauty.” His voice thundered through the hall, authoritative and final. “Do you swear by the River Styx your fealty and respect to Aglaia, goddess of beauty, as your wife?”
“I swear it,” Hephaestus answered, the vowforged in the heart of him.
Zeus’s gaze shifted to Aglaia. “Do you swear by the River Styx your fealty and respect to Hephaestus, god of fire and lord of the forge, as your husband?”
Her answer came softly. “I swear it.”
Time seemed to crystallize around the moment—fragile, perfect.
Zeus’s nod sealed their fates. “Then it is done.”
Thunder rolled through the sky, an exhalation of divine will. Hephaestus let it settle over him, feeling its weight binding her to him. The space between them was heavy, charged, alive with their vows.
Aglaia’s breath hitched as the heat in his veins erupted with life. His hand tightened on hers, the throne room vanishing as ash and flame rose, consuming them in divine fire.
Chapter 29
Flames erupted around them.
Hephaestus’s hand was firm around hers, drawing her against his side. The inferno roared, but she felt none of its bite. Only the solidity of him against her in the torrent of light and heat.
Then the fire’s roar softened into crackles and whispers. Heat gave way to a suffused golden glow, warm and tranquil.
