the crashing of waves; an hephaestus/hestia & aphrodite/???, lito fic.
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is another in my series of "mythfics", to borrow the term from my darling etzyofi. In order to fully appreciate these, be sure to look at my Greek Gods in Modern Times casting picspams ( Part One, Part Two, and Part Three). I'm also including a "cast list" at the beginning of the fic just as a refresher as to who's playing who.)
CAST (IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE)
the crashing of waves, hephaestus/hestia & aphrodite/???, pg-13
(This one goes out to shelightsupwell for the inspiring prompt of Aphrodite clashing with a certain someone at a party; with bonus props and thanks to zombie_boogie and etzyofi for inspiration and the AIM convos tonight. ♥)
Some major upheavals at the Lito bring out the worst -- and best -- in the gods. (AKA: BIG STUFF HAPPENS, YO.)
“But the opportunities!” Dionysius threw an arm around his shoulders, practically putting him in a headlock in his excitement and knocking off the God of Thieves’ hat. “If everyone has to be there-except Zeus, the old codger-we’ll have delicious front row seats for all of the fireworks! Just how much whispering can Aphrodite take before she simply explodes? Ohhhh,” he released Hermes and began rubbing his hands in devilish delight. 6,353 words
Aphrodite tossed her purse onto the coffee table with a sigh, shaking her hair loose with a fine-boned hand. Several strands caught on her wedding rings, and she frowned as she untangled the knot.
A light went on in the bedroom. A moment later her husband was in the hallway, dressed in sweatpants and one of his usual white t-shirts, his hair tousled and wet from the shower he had clearly taken only a few minutes ago.
“Sorry I’m so late,” she said as casually as she could, leaning on the arm of the leather couch as she slipped off her stilettos. “Have you been working all night?”
“We need to talk.”
The calm firmness to his voice startled her. She was used to Hephaestus being quiet, and resigned, and distant. She wasn’t used to this determined set of his jaw and the sense of finality in the way he stood there, hardly leaning against his crutches.
“Yes, darling?”
“Tonight, for once, can you dispense with the act?” he asked softly.
She stared at him for a long moment silently. “Is something wrong?”
“There’s a great deal that’s wrong, Aphrodite.” She couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually said her name. “The way you’ve been meeting with Ares for the past few centuries, and all the while acting as if I didn’t know-my legs don’t work, wife, not my eyes. The way I’ve put up with it and pretended I was blind. And the fact that honoring an oath to someone who has no concept of honor or fidelity is a frankly stupid and cowardly thing to continue doing.”
Aphrodite stood, barefoot and in clothes that smelled of Ares’ cologne, with an expression of shock frozen on her ivory face. In two thousand years he had never spoken to her in such a way, never looked at her with such undisguised disgust.
She had never loved him, no-a part of her wondered if she could love beyond the physical expressions; a part of her wasn’t entirely sure what that sort of love felt like. But he had been a frequently reassuring constant in her life. When the others fell into their heated squabbles and the illegitimate children began stirring up trouble, Hephaestus would still be in his workshop or forge or garage tinkering away. He would still be sitting at the kitchen table with two plates ready at dinner. He would still be lying on the other side of the bed, half turned away from her.
“What are you saying, Hephaestus?” And she spoke blandly, without a trace of charm or feigned sweetness.
“I want you gone. I want you to free me. You’ve never wanted me, and I’ve stopped wanting you. Please have your things out tomorrow. I’m done playing your pointless games.”
And with that he turned and made his way back into the bedroom, where he closed the door with a firm click that echoed in the silence.
---
“Is it too early to be throwing a party?”
Demeter shot him a warning look. “You do realize there’s going to be a massive backlash that’s going to hit all of us?”
“Don’t look at me like that, Dem,” Dionysius said, feigning hurt. “I’m only following my true nature. And anyway, how many of us even like Aphrodite?”
“That’s not the point! She still outranks most of us, and she has power over Eros. If she gets vindictive and spiteful, the entire mortal world could suffer. We could suffer. Do you want to fall in love with Sarah Palin because you make some uncouth remarks around her?”
Dionysius shuddered. “Ohhh, you have a point there. Maybe I’ll make myself scarce for a few days, hole up in Las Vegas and wait for everything to blow over.”
“Hera’s been with her all day,” Hestia said, stirring her hot chocolate listlessly. “And Zeus had some words with Hephaestus this morning. But it seems nothing’s changed.”
“I wonder why he did it?” Persephone mused aloud, sipping at her chamomile tea.
“He must have found where he put his backbone,” Dionysius said archly. “Honestly, I’ve been crossing my fingers for this to happen for the past four hundred years.”
“But I thought he loved her,” Persephone insisted. “I remember the way he used to look at her, follow her around when we were still on Olympus, all the jewelry he made for her.”
“Maybe he’s just finally realized that he’s too good for her,” Hestia snapped, startling Persephone. “…Sorry, Sephie.”
“She’s been cheating on him since the day they were married,” Dionysius pointed out. “And as patient as Hephaestus is, there’s only so much infidelity a man can take.”
“As if you’ve any room to talk,” Demeter scoffed. “Just how many marriages have you destroyed, hmm?”
“Hey hey hey,” Dionysius raised his hands defensively. “It is entirely not my fault if some men can’t handle their liquor, or if some women just can’t contain themselves around my passionate presence. I mean, there aren’t many mortal men that can actually hold a candle to me.”
“Humble and modest as always,” Demeter sighed.
“Well, why is she so upset, then?” Persephone asked. “If she’s never loved him, why is she throwing such a fit?”
“Because her pride has taken a blow,” Dionysius said sagely, tapping the side of his nose. “She, the Goddess of Beauty, has been kicked to the curb by a crippled-sorry, Hestia, but it’s true-husband who spends most of his time covered in engine grease. If word got out, she’d be a laughingstock. And you know she has no sense of humor.”
“But there are times when divorce is the best option for both parties,” Demeter said, shooting a pointed look at her daughter, who completely missed the reference.
“Hopefully she’ll see that and let this all fade away quietly,” Hestia said fervently.
---
Poseidon was having a hard time concentrating with all of that screaming next door. The walls were thick enough to distort whatever words were being screamed, but not the high pitched decibels themselves. He gritted his teeth and looked back at the computer screen, scanning until he found where he’d left off in the newest contract.
Something smashed against the wall. It sounded like either a lamp or a crystal vase. And that was it. That was the straw. Poseidon hated it when his family started needlessly destroying things.
He didn’t bother to knock-he simply threw the door open and strode into the apartment, just managing to catch the paperweight before it hit him full in the face.
“Get the fuck out, Poseidon,” Aphrodite fumed, stalking across the living room, driving her sharp heels deep into the soft carpet. There were boxes piled up, random knick-knacks and clothes shoved haphazardly into them.
Hera was standing by the refrigerator, a hand at her temple. “You’re not going to help matters, brother.”
“Stop pretending you’re a sixteen year old girl,” Poseidon huffed angrily, setting the paperweight on a nearby pedestal. He waved a hand over the shattered remains of the vase, reassembling the fragments and flowers with a flick of his wrist. It, too, floated over to the pedestal, the white orchids bobbing gently.
“Why should you care?” Aphrodite demanded, hands on her hips. “Also, why do you even bother using your energy like that?” She pointed almost accusingly at the vase. “I’ve got five of the damned things in one of these boxes.”
“There’s no need to waste recklessly,” he replied coolly.
“I’m not in the mood for your sanctimonious preaching today,” she said, her eyes flashing blue fire. “Get. The fuck. Out.”
“As soon as you calm down and start acting like a dignified goddess.”
“Poseidon,” Hera said wearily. “This truly isn’t going to help.”
“Start acting like a goddess? My husband has just kicked me out of my own apartment! That happens to mortals, not us! We don’t get divorces! I’m more powerful than him! Without me, the mortal world would wither and die! How does he have any say over what I do and do not do?”
“I believe you’re forgetting that Hephaestus has played a rather large part in making the world what it is today,” Poseidon said heatedly, his own eyes flashing indignantly at her arrogance. “Mankind would still be living in hovels and dying at the age of thirty if his machines and technology hadn’t improved their living conditions!”
“You’re just taking his side because he’s been influencing all of those inventors to build hybrid cars and ridiculous shit like that,” she snapped with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Stop.”
Hera was suddenly between them, restraining hands raised and a no-argument look on her face. “Poseidon, go for a swim. Just stay away from this floor for a couple hours. Aphrodite, you’re going to stop screaming and throwing things. You’re going to finish packing, and then I’ll help you move into the spare apartment. Either of you says another word in that tone of voice, I’m dropping you into an active volcano.”
Fuming enough to give off steam, Poseidon stalked out of the room thinking boiling thoughts about self-important witches.
---
“If she asks me to do anything crazy, I’m going to stand my ground,” Eros told his wife at lunch. He chewed a grape in a distracted, thoughtful way. “I won’t take sides outright, but I’m not going to let her fuck up the mortal world just because she’s in a pissy mood.”
“But you’re on Heph’s side, right?” Psyche said, looking up from her salad.
“Oh, absolutely,” he said immediately.
“…Have you seen your father yet today?”
Eros sighed and toyed with the lettuce in his sandwich. “No. He’s in Iraq overseeing a new gun shipment. Flew out this morning, probably right before all of this blew up.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes and groaned. “Why is this family so insane? I really want to go talk with Heph, see how he’s handling all of this, but you know how awkward it is between us.”
“He doesn’t blame you for anything,” Psyche said, reaching across the table for his hand, which he gave her readily for a supportive squeeze. “And he loves you, even if he knows you’re not his son.”
“Well, I guess I’ll worry about all of this when I get home tonight,” he said, setting his plate on the counter. “Back to the lovey-dovey grind. Gotta make sure people are making babies on schedule and all.”
“Speaking of-” A knock at the door interrupted her.
“Hestia?” Eros said when he opened the door, quite taken aback by her nervous, worried manner.
“Could we talk for a moment? Alone?”
“Uh, sure. Your place?” He grabbed his briefcase from the coffee table, quickly kissed his wife’s cheek, and shut the door behind them.
The walk down the hall to Hestia’s apartment was unusually silent and awkward. Eros had always liked the retiring, shy goddess for her warmth and sweetness, but today she seemed preoccupied with something that was weighing on her heavily.
“Be honest,” she said after she’d shut her door. “Did you use one of your arrows on me?”
Eros blinked at her, off-balanced by the unexpected question. “No, Hestia, no. Why would you think that?”
“Did Hermes or Pan put you up to it?”
“Hestia, I didn’t do anything to you. Why would you think that?”
She looked down, her hands clenching into fists. “I’m the reason all of this drama has started.”
“How do you mean?”
“I’m in love with Hephaestus,” she blurted out-but then it was something of a shock that she had managed to hide this for so long from Eros, who could sense the presence of love at the very core of his being. “And I told him so last night, and now he’s kicked Aphrodite out and everyone’s going to be so angry with him and I don’t know what to do to make things right again.”
“Hestia, I’m pretty sure things weren’t ‘right’ when Heph and Aphrodite were together,” Eros said gently. “And my mother is going to calm down in a couple of days and everything will be smoothed over, no worse for the wear.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Yes, I do,” he said with as much conviction as he could muster. “But why would you think I’d make you fall in love with Hephaestus?”
“…I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking straight. I just know you don’t get along so well with your mother, and I know you want Hephaestus to be happy, and I guess I just thought maybe you’d planned all this…”
“You give me far too much credit,” he said with a smile. “No, you loving Hephaestus is due entirely to your own heart and his. And I have to say that I’m happy for you, because you’re a far better match for him than my mother ever could be.”
She smiled shyly at that.
“You, you are glad that you love him, right?”
“Oh, yes,” she said breathlessly. “And I’m happy that he’s taking a stand against her, I really am. I’m just afraid that Aphrodite is going to make everyone take sides, and that life around here is going to be even harder for him.”
“Heph’s made of pretty stern stuff,” Eros said reassuringly. “And I’ve the feeling that if the others begin to push him, they’ll find out just how stern he can be. Oh, and a quick word of advice,” he added, hand on the doorknob. “Keep this love of yours as quiet and unobtrusive as possible for as long as you can. I don’t want you to be getting any backlash from my mother.”
---
“Are you sure, dear? I mean, wouldn’t a council meeting be bet- Oh, I see. But are you certain that- Okay. I’ll pass the world along. Of course. Good luck with your meetings. Bye bye.”
Iris flipped her cell phone closed and stared at the wall for several minutes, steeling herself for what she had to do next. Her husband lowered the paper he’d been reading, glancing at her over the crinkled edge.
“Something wrong, Iris?”
“Zeus wants me to supervise a party tonight,” she said in a somewhat dull, lifeless way.
“…Is that a problem?” Morpheus demanded, brow furrowed in confusion. Iris excelled at parties, reveling in the light and color of it all, following fifteen different threads of conversation at once without missing a step.
“A party here,” she elaborated. “Just family.”
“I see,” he said thoughtfully, folding the paper and setting it aside. “And he specifically said party, not a council meeting?”
“No, a party, I even suggested a meeting instead. Oh, darling, how am I going to control this? As soon as the invitations go out, Dionysius and Pan and that wicked Hermes are going to put their naughty heads together and think up some truly terrible ways to make mischief. And what with the high emotions and tensions right now, how can I keep it from turning into an all out war?”
“Well,” Morpheus said slowly, coming to stand behind her chair, his large warm hands massaging her tight shoulders. “I happen to know that Zeus stopped to have a talk with the Oracle before he left today, so whatever he’s set into motion probably has something to do with her.”
“Oh, could you go talk to her?” Iris said eagerly, turning her head to look up at her pale husband. “Find out what she told Zeus?”
“You know how the Oracle can be, Iris,” he said. “I doubt she’d tell me what she told him.”
“But you’re so good with her,” Iris insisted. “She fancies you, I just know it. I’m sure you could winkle it out of her.”
“No, darling,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Just have some faith that Zeus knows what he’s doing, and that things won’t be quite the disaster you’re imagining them to be. Now, will you be calling every one, or would you like me to pass out paper invitations?”
---
“I knew there’d be a party!” Dionysius crowed, shoving the card back into the golden envelope.
“Family only, though,” Hermes complained.
“But the opportunities!” Dionysius threw an arm around his shoulders, practically putting him in a headlock in his excitement and knocking off the God of Thieves’ hat. “If everyone has to be there-except Zeus, the old codger-we’ll have delicious front row seats for all of the fireworks! Just how much whispering can Aphrodite take before she simply explodes? Ohhhh,” he released Hermes and began rubbing his hands in devilish delight. “We need some of that French wine you got us in Chicago.”
“You mean the wine that had you flat on your back fifteen minutes after you drank it?” Hermes said, straightening his hat.
“Well, that was more because Miss Illinois was very aggressive, but yes, that’s the one.”
“Gotcha. I’ll talk to my contacts.”
---
Hestia wanted very much to be up in her apartment, away from everyone. She felt utterly off-balanced and confused, a tangled mess of emotions and thoughts. She was the Goddess of the Hearth, and such parties made her feel like a country cousin. She didn’t like high heels, and when she looked at her more glamorous relatives in their couture and diamonds, she wanted to literally melt into the wall. She never felt as out of place and out of her element as she did when Iris threw one of her sophisticated parties.
At least Iris had set everything up in the Lito’s entranceway, which was more than big enough for everyone-and the bar and the table for hors d'oeuvres-without being too vast and intimidating.
Hephaestus had claimed a seat off to the side by the staircase, where he could sit half shrouded in shadow and avoid most of the attention. Of course, the others being the gossips that they were, he knew every pair of eyes would be glancing at him every few minutes. He simply sighed, straightened his gray jacket, and finished his second glass of champagne. He’d never understand why Zeus and the others were so infatuated with having these pointless ‘parties’, especially considering half of the family would be at the other half’s throats by the end of them.
Aphrodite hadn’t made her grand entrance yet; Hestia knew she’d no doubt arrive fashionably late and cause a big stir. She sipped at her wine and tried not to stare at Hephaestus, who looked just as uncomfortable in his gray slacks and jacket as she felt in her green evening dress.
Athena, dressed in a wine red gown with rubies in her hair, was walking by with a dark-haired man on her arm that Hestia didn’t recognize. The invitations had specifically said no one but family, but then Athena never did care a twig for what Zeus demanded. The Goddess of Wisdom glanced over at her and made an elegant turn, guiding her date over to Hestia’s corner.
“How are you holding up, dear?” Athena asked after kissing her cheek with a reassuring degree of warmth and fondness.
“Only a couple more hours to go, right?” Hestia said with a hesitant smile.
“That’s the spirit. Hestia, this is Icarus. He’s a new employee at Olympus Air. His father, Daedalus, invented that incredible new airship that runs entirely on water steam.”
“Are you an inventor, too?” Hestia asked as he shook her hand politely, knowing that Athena favored the intellectuals.
“Not at all, I’m afraid,” he said with a friendly smile. “No, I’m a pilot.”
“Hestia helps things run smoothly around here,” Athena said. “She’s our peacemaker and voice of reason.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said, blushing with embarrassment.
“So,” Athena said, leaning in a bit closer. “What do you think about the whole brouhaha with Aphrodite and Hephaestus?”
Hestia didn’t have to struggle for a noncommittal answer because a sudden ruckus by the basement door suddenly captured Athena’s attention.
Not many bothered with that particular floor, thanks in large part to the general mess that it was kept in, and so the basement’s trio of residents was often left well alone and ignored. It was likely Iris hadn’t even sent them invitations, though they technically were family; truth be told, the old women could often be disconcerting at these kinds of gatherings.
Invited or not, they had for some reason decided to make an appearance and were, true to their usual form, disrupting the entire flow of the party. Clotho had walked straight into Apollo just as he was stepping back from the bar with a pair of champagne flues, and the abrupt collision sent a shower of champagne and broken glass across the floor. At almost the same time Atropos had stepped directly into the fountain that Poseidon had placed in the center of the room, and begun loudly complaining that she’d stepped into someone’s spilled drink. Lachesis, who was perhaps the blindest of the three, had walked directly into a wall and was now yelling about her nose.
Athena excused herself and hurried over to help them, while everyone else gave them a wide berth and edged to the other side of the room. Hestia debated following after the Goddess of Wisdom, but knew it was likely she’d only get an unintentional slap in the face from one of the old women if she did.
“That goat boy stole our glasses!” Atropos was screeching as Athena pulled her from the fountain. “I know it was him! I smelled him!”
“Smells like grass and farm animal he does!” Clotho agreed vehemently, grabbing blindly.
“Do I smell nibbles?” Lachesis shouted, feeling her way down the wall towards the hors d'oeuvres table.
Demeter deftly intercepted her before she could pull the white satin cloth-and all of the silver platters-from the table and steered her back towards the basement. “I’ll bring you down a tray straight away, dear,” she said smoothly. “And we’ll find your glasses, too.”
“Good for nothing goat boy took ‘em!” Atropos reiterated. “Deserves a good lashing for treating us old women so poorly!”
“Shut your mouth, Atropos!” Clotho screamed. “You sound like a damn broken record!”
Between them, Athena and Demeter managed to get the trio back down the stairs with only a minimum of physical force. When the two reemerged, their hair and dresses were somewhat disheveled.
“Suppose I best go find my boy, eh?” Hermes said, flashing a sheepish grin before dashing off towards the greenhouse.
There were a few moments of hushed conversation following the outburst before the rhythm of the party reasserted itself and the mingling began again in earnest.
Artemis wandered over to Hestia, wearing a practical skirt and blouse that would be at home on a tennis court, her hair done up simply in a bun. “Seems my brother has been making eyes at some of my friends again,” she said brusquely, sipping a martini. “I wanted to make sure he’s been keeping his hands off your Vestal maidens.”
“I haven’t had any complaints,” Hestia replied.
“What would there be to complain about?” Dionysius said, suddenly popping up between them, a wolfish grin on his face.
“I’ve heard you’ve been making advances at my girls, too,” Artemis said coldly.
“Artemis, you simply can’t be parading your gorgeous friends around this place and not expect me to chase after them,” Dionysius said, nonchalantly downing his glass of scotch. “It’s like dangling a well-cooked steak in front of a starving man.”
“As if you know anything about starving,” Artemis said.
“Oh, I know what it’s like to not get what you want at times,” he said with an arched, suggestive eyebrow, daring a quick slap on a certain bit of her anatomy before he darted away, out of her reach and back to the bar.
“Bastard,” Artemis growled. “Don’t know how you stand him.”
“He is what he is,” Hestia said with a small smile.
Poseidon and Hera walked by, clearly arguing but in low enough tones to make their specific words inaudible.
“Poseidon doesn’t seem happy to be here,” Hestia observed.
“He wanted to be in Singapore,” Artemis clarified. “He’s trying to broker a new deal with a Chinese fishing company. But Zeus left specific orders that he had to attend.”
“A bit rich, considering he jetted off as soon as he could,” Hestia said.
“You know how Zeus can be,” was all Artemis said, her shrug speaking volumes.
In the murmur of conversation, no one had heard the whirr of the elevator as it descended. When the doors opened with an unusually loud ding, everyone turned to look as Aphrodite stepped out with all of her usual flair for the dramatics. She was wearing a 1920’s-style silver flapper dress, the fringe most likely actual silver. Her golden hair was swept up in an artful bunch of curls, held back by a diamond-studded headband that had a large white ostrich feather thrust through it.
“Yes, yes, bravo,” someone said loudly into the momentary silence. “The most beautiful woman in the world has graced us with her glorious presence. Give me another gin and tonic, Dionysius.”
Hestia had to stifle the smile that threatened to creep across her face as Aphrodite shot a poisonous glare at Poseidon, who was utterly unconcerned and already sipping from his refilled glass. She glanced over at Hephaestus, who wasn’t even bothering to hide his smile.
“Artemis,” Aphrodite said sharply, glancing over. “I’d like to have a word with you.”
Almost an hour went by without much mishap. Hestia finally claimed a chair to save her feet-she may be a goddess, but heels were far from her strong suit-and worked her way half-heartedly through a glass of Dionysius’s favorite wine. She was sitting almost directly across from Hephaestus-all that was between them were the mingling, ever moving bodies of the others. Iris flitted by several times, asking if she needed anything and playing the part of the concerned hostess perfectly. Aphrodite moved from Artemis to Hera, to Athena, to Persephone, to Hectate-carefully steering clear of Dionysius’s group (which included Hermes, Pan, Apollo, Eros, and Psyche) and Poseidon and Hades, who were deep in heated conversation. She never looked over at her for-now husband or at the nearly invisible Hestia.
Watching the way the others spoke to each other and glanced about them, Hestia wondered how different the dynamic of the room would be if Ares (who was still in Iraq) or Zeus were in attendance. Would Aphrodite be openly accompanying Ares? Would Zeus be a calming or infuriating influence?
Her cheeks felt very warm and her head felt too light. Hestia watched the crippled god sitting several yards away through the cover of her thick eyelashes. She thought about the night before, when she had said all of those things she’d been bottling for so many weeks: the way his hand had felt against her cheek, the hesitant, gentle kiss he’d given her before pulling away with a mixture of bashful embarrassment and confusion. He’d said he would need time, that he had to sort things out with Aphrodite, that he had to learn how to assert himself again, that he had too many things to think about.
It was nearing midnight, and Hestia was woozy. She stood, slightly unsteady on her feet-probably just the heels, she decided-and made her way over to the bar.
Dionysius swooped over in record time. “Can I get you anything nice, sweetie?”
“You can have this,” she said, carefully enunciating as she handed him the empty wineglass. “I’m going to bed.”
“Leaving so soon?” he asked, giving her the full power of his puppy dog eyes.
“Don’t try that on me,” she warned, waggling a finger. “Won’t work.”
“Did you like the wine? Had it brought in special from Chicago.”
“Yeah, it was tasty.”
“You’re gorgeous tonight, by the way,” Dionysius called after her as she made her way to the elevator. She simply waved carelessly over her shoulder and leaned against the button she wanted.
The doors whooshed open and she stumbled in, stepping on the hem of her dress and almost falling forward. But there was a strong hand suddenly at her elbow, steadying her until she could straighten.
“Need a bit of help?” Hephaestus said with a soft smile that she felt was meant only for her.
---
Aphrodite’s fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne flue. There was a sharp ping of broken glass, and the base was suddenly shattering against the marble floor.
“Um, your glass, Auntie?” Apollo said helpfully, pointing.
She ignored him entirely, watching as the elevator doors slid shut before she turned sharply and caught Dionysius’s pleased grin.
“You knew, didn’t you?” she demanded, striding towards him and carelessly crushing the rest of her glass in her delicate hand.
“Knew what exactly?” the God of Wine said with a convincing amount of innocence.
“That my husband has been sneaking around with that so-called virgin,” she hissed.
“No comprende, dear sister,” Dionysius said, hands raised defensively.
“Who else knows? Does everyone?”
A tanned hand suddenly encircled her wrist. “Don’t make a scene now.”
Aphrodite twisted sharply in an attempt to pull free. “Let me go, Poseidon.”
“I’ve had enough of your dramatics today,” he retorted, turning her with a bit more force than necessary and pushing her before him towards the greenhouse.
“You bastard!” she shrieked just after he’d managed to close and lock the door. “You have absolutely no right to treat me this way!”
“Why?” he demanded with just as much passion. “Why don’t I have the right? Because you’re the Goddess of Beauty? Fuck that. I’m the God of the Sea. I outrank you, you spoiled little princess. And I have every right to keep you from making a total ass of yourself and ruining everyone else’s night.”
“He’s my husband,” Aphrodite hissed.
“So? What does it matter if he’s been cheating on you or he hasn’t? You can’t throw any damn stones. Where do you get off playing the pious wife? Everyone knows Eros is Ares’ son, not Hephaestus’. I can’t bloody understand you, Aphrodite.”
“You don’t have to,” she said, eyes blazing. “It’s not your fucking job to understand me, or to make me behave, or to keep me faithful. What I do or do not do is none of your damn business, Poseidon, so you can get off that high horse of yours and leave me the fuck alone.”
“And is this how you’re going to reinvent yourself?” he demanded, refusing to back down. “Artemis has told me all about your plans to change your image. To be taken more seriously. To be more respected by the world. And this is how you’re doing that? By playing the betrayed wife while you order around your illegitimate son?”
There was a heartbeat of silence, both staring at the other with vindicated fury hot in their eyes.
“Have you ever tried to go against your fundamental nature?” Aphrodite demanded finally, her voice quieter but no less passionate.
“Have you ever tried to change the world overnight?” he countered. “Humans are a destructive race. Try changing them for the better and see how long it takes you.”
“I’m doing what I can,” she said, struggling to steady her breathing. “It’s difficult to break habits you’ve had for six hundred years.”
“Maybe you need to try harder, then.”
“Oh? And how do you suggest I do that? Since you’re so good at giving advice, since you know everything, since you’re always right and just and never put a single toe out of line,” she said, every line of her elegant body visibly trembling with anger.
“You could start by giving Hephaestus the divorce he wants,” Poseidon said, his jaw tightening. “Drop all of the useless dramatics. Leave him alone, and learn how to stand on your own feet without using your husband as a crutch or an excuse or a means of getting sympathy and pity from your adoring masses.”
“You think I use Hephaestus as a means to win sympathy?” she said.
“I do. You love attention, Aphrodite. You can’t survive without it. And you’ll use any means to get it.”
“You bastard. You do know none of us can stand your holier-than-thou attitude? That we just humor you and your little crusades. Do you know how many jokes Dionysius and Pan have made at your expense? How much the mortals mock you, and deride you, and doubt your good intentions? What is the fucking point, Poseidon? None of it matters. Humanity will never thank you for your efforts, will never acknowledge your work. You’re fighting a losing battle that no one appreciates.”
“What else would you have me do?” he shouted. “Live like you, dissipated and bitter and lonely?”
Aphrodite laughed, a sharp, short, bitter laugh. “Lonely? I could be with any man I want.”
“And does it fill the ache? Does it really make you feel better? Does it make you feel like a stronger woman?”
“Stop it!”
“If you want to be a stronger woman, then be a stronger woman. You’re a goddess, Aphrodite. You can’t make excuses. You can’t blame any of us for your own failings, and you can’t blame mankind. You owe it to them to be better than you are; you owe it to yourself.”
“Stop!”
“I know why you act like this. I’ve figured it out. I understand you now. You hate yourself, Aphrodite. You hate what mankind pictures you to be. They all say you’re petty and shallow, and so you prove them right every day because it’s easy. If you don’t want to be that goddess any more, then you have to find something in yourself to admire. You have to change before they will.”
There were tears in her eyes, and her hands had tightened into fists of helpless rage. “Damn you, Poseidon. We’re not all as strong as you.”
“Bullshit,” he said.
And then her hands were at his collar, pulling him closer. His palms slid down the curves of her waist as she pressed her lips to his. She tasted of champagne and tears as she tangled her fingers in his ginger hair. The blood rushing in her ears sounded like the crashing of waves, and as he gasped against her neck everything went white.
---
The elevator had gotten halfway to her floor before he’d pressed the emergency stop button.
“You are okay?” he asked, his brow slightly furrowed. She had an almost irresistible urge to reach over and smooth out the lines with her thumb.
“I’m just peachy,” she smiled, leaning against the wall. “That wine Dionysius got, it has a real kick to it.”
“One glass and you’re gone,” he chuckled.
“Goddess of the Hearth, not Goddess of the Booze,” Hestia pointed out.
“You look beautiful in that dress,” he said hesitantly, glancing down at his feet and then back up to her face. “I, I mean, you always look beautiful,” he said quickly, after he’d had a moment to think about what he’d said. “Just… Especially so. Tonight.” Again with the furtive looks down and back.
It was one of the most endearing things she’d ever seen, and she couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread across her face.
“You look nice, too,” she murmured. “Though I like you best in the t-shirts. Shows off your arms.”
“My arms?” His eyes widened in surprise, and she laughed.
“You’re so nice,” she said dreamily. “You don’t know how cute you are, do you?”
“Me?” He blinked incredulously, reaching over and quickly hitting the stop button again. The elevator lurched back into life, almost throwing Hestia over. She found herself leaning against him, one of his muscular arms around her waist.
“Yes. You.” She met his eyes steadily, her cheeks flushed and strands of honey-hued hair framing her blue eyes. “I think you’re all kinds of cute. And sexy, too.”
His face was almost beet red now. “You wouldn’t be saying this if you weren’t tipsy.”
“Probably not,” she agreed genially. “But I’d still be thinking it.”
The door opened with a chime. “Here’s the stop,” he said. “Can you stand?”
“Of course I can,” she said, straightening. “But walking, that I’m not so sure about.”
“I’ll help,” he assured.
Luckily, Hestia’s apartment was the first on the right. After a minute of twisting, she’d managed to open the door and stagger inside. Hephaestus found the light switch as she fell onto the couch.
“Hephaestus,” she said quietly after a moment. He’d made his way to the kitchen and was pouring her a glass of water.
“Yes?”
“Did I do anything wrong?”
“Wrong?” He set the glass on the coffee table and gingerly lowered himself onto the edge of the couch. “No, nothing. Why would you think that?”
“Everything with Aphrodite,” she mumbled. “I just feel bad.”
“You shouldn’t,” he said firmly, quietly. “She’ll get over it.”
“And you?”
He stared at her for quite some time in silence. Then he reached over and brushed the hair from her face, the tips of his fingers gentle and cool against her skin. “I’ll get over it. With help.”
She smiled, a soft twist of her lips that made something twinge inside him. Her eyes fluttered shut a moment later, the dark lashes a soft fan against the creamy white of her skin, and she slept.
He watched her for almost an hour before finally turning off the light and closing the door behind him.
---
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Everything happened as I Saw it, sir,” the Oracle murmured. “It should be calm around here by the time you get back. Yes, sir. Aphrodite will be behaving herself for quite some time. I understand it’s an unusual match. Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Goodbye.”
She returned the phone to its cradle and turned her attention back to the newest Rose Cupid book. With the way things developed around here, she’d be lucky to finish this one before the next major catastrophe.
CAST (IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE)
the crashing of waves, hephaestus/hestia & aphrodite/???, pg-13
(This one goes out to shelightsupwell for the inspiring prompt of Aphrodite clashing with a certain someone at a party; with bonus props and thanks to zombie_boogie and etzyofi for inspiration and the AIM convos tonight. ♥)
Some major upheavals at the Lito bring out the worst -- and best -- in the gods. (AKA: BIG STUFF HAPPENS, YO.)
“But the opportunities!” Dionysius threw an arm around his shoulders, practically putting him in a headlock in his excitement and knocking off the God of Thieves’ hat. “If everyone has to be there-except Zeus, the old codger-we’ll have delicious front row seats for all of the fireworks! Just how much whispering can Aphrodite take before she simply explodes? Ohhhh,” he released Hermes and began rubbing his hands in devilish delight. 6,353 words
Aphrodite tossed her purse onto the coffee table with a sigh, shaking her hair loose with a fine-boned hand. Several strands caught on her wedding rings, and she frowned as she untangled the knot.
A light went on in the bedroom. A moment later her husband was in the hallway, dressed in sweatpants and one of his usual white t-shirts, his hair tousled and wet from the shower he had clearly taken only a few minutes ago.
“Sorry I’m so late,” she said as casually as she could, leaning on the arm of the leather couch as she slipped off her stilettos. “Have you been working all night?”
“We need to talk.”
The calm firmness to his voice startled her. She was used to Hephaestus being quiet, and resigned, and distant. She wasn’t used to this determined set of his jaw and the sense of finality in the way he stood there, hardly leaning against his crutches.
“Yes, darling?”
“Tonight, for once, can you dispense with the act?” he asked softly.
She stared at him for a long moment silently. “Is something wrong?”
“There’s a great deal that’s wrong, Aphrodite.” She couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually said her name. “The way you’ve been meeting with Ares for the past few centuries, and all the while acting as if I didn’t know-my legs don’t work, wife, not my eyes. The way I’ve put up with it and pretended I was blind. And the fact that honoring an oath to someone who has no concept of honor or fidelity is a frankly stupid and cowardly thing to continue doing.”
Aphrodite stood, barefoot and in clothes that smelled of Ares’ cologne, with an expression of shock frozen on her ivory face. In two thousand years he had never spoken to her in such a way, never looked at her with such undisguised disgust.
She had never loved him, no-a part of her wondered if she could love beyond the physical expressions; a part of her wasn’t entirely sure what that sort of love felt like. But he had been a frequently reassuring constant in her life. When the others fell into their heated squabbles and the illegitimate children began stirring up trouble, Hephaestus would still be in his workshop or forge or garage tinkering away. He would still be sitting at the kitchen table with two plates ready at dinner. He would still be lying on the other side of the bed, half turned away from her.
“What are you saying, Hephaestus?” And she spoke blandly, without a trace of charm or feigned sweetness.
“I want you gone. I want you to free me. You’ve never wanted me, and I’ve stopped wanting you. Please have your things out tomorrow. I’m done playing your pointless games.”
And with that he turned and made his way back into the bedroom, where he closed the door with a firm click that echoed in the silence.
---
“Is it too early to be throwing a party?”
Demeter shot him a warning look. “You do realize there’s going to be a massive backlash that’s going to hit all of us?”
“Don’t look at me like that, Dem,” Dionysius said, feigning hurt. “I’m only following my true nature. And anyway, how many of us even like Aphrodite?”
“That’s not the point! She still outranks most of us, and she has power over Eros. If she gets vindictive and spiteful, the entire mortal world could suffer. We could suffer. Do you want to fall in love with Sarah Palin because you make some uncouth remarks around her?”
Dionysius shuddered. “Ohhh, you have a point there. Maybe I’ll make myself scarce for a few days, hole up in Las Vegas and wait for everything to blow over.”
“Hera’s been with her all day,” Hestia said, stirring her hot chocolate listlessly. “And Zeus had some words with Hephaestus this morning. But it seems nothing’s changed.”
“I wonder why he did it?” Persephone mused aloud, sipping at her chamomile tea.
“He must have found where he put his backbone,” Dionysius said archly. “Honestly, I’ve been crossing my fingers for this to happen for the past four hundred years.”
“But I thought he loved her,” Persephone insisted. “I remember the way he used to look at her, follow her around when we were still on Olympus, all the jewelry he made for her.”
“Maybe he’s just finally realized that he’s too good for her,” Hestia snapped, startling Persephone. “…Sorry, Sephie.”
“She’s been cheating on him since the day they were married,” Dionysius pointed out. “And as patient as Hephaestus is, there’s only so much infidelity a man can take.”
“As if you’ve any room to talk,” Demeter scoffed. “Just how many marriages have you destroyed, hmm?”
“Hey hey hey,” Dionysius raised his hands defensively. “It is entirely not my fault if some men can’t handle their liquor, or if some women just can’t contain themselves around my passionate presence. I mean, there aren’t many mortal men that can actually hold a candle to me.”
“Humble and modest as always,” Demeter sighed.
“Well, why is she so upset, then?” Persephone asked. “If she’s never loved him, why is she throwing such a fit?”
“Because her pride has taken a blow,” Dionysius said sagely, tapping the side of his nose. “She, the Goddess of Beauty, has been kicked to the curb by a crippled-sorry, Hestia, but it’s true-husband who spends most of his time covered in engine grease. If word got out, she’d be a laughingstock. And you know she has no sense of humor.”
“But there are times when divorce is the best option for both parties,” Demeter said, shooting a pointed look at her daughter, who completely missed the reference.
“Hopefully she’ll see that and let this all fade away quietly,” Hestia said fervently.
---
Poseidon was having a hard time concentrating with all of that screaming next door. The walls were thick enough to distort whatever words were being screamed, but not the high pitched decibels themselves. He gritted his teeth and looked back at the computer screen, scanning until he found where he’d left off in the newest contract.
Something smashed against the wall. It sounded like either a lamp or a crystal vase. And that was it. That was the straw. Poseidon hated it when his family started needlessly destroying things.
He didn’t bother to knock-he simply threw the door open and strode into the apartment, just managing to catch the paperweight before it hit him full in the face.
“Get the fuck out, Poseidon,” Aphrodite fumed, stalking across the living room, driving her sharp heels deep into the soft carpet. There were boxes piled up, random knick-knacks and clothes shoved haphazardly into them.
Hera was standing by the refrigerator, a hand at her temple. “You’re not going to help matters, brother.”
“Stop pretending you’re a sixteen year old girl,” Poseidon huffed angrily, setting the paperweight on a nearby pedestal. He waved a hand over the shattered remains of the vase, reassembling the fragments and flowers with a flick of his wrist. It, too, floated over to the pedestal, the white orchids bobbing gently.
“Why should you care?” Aphrodite demanded, hands on her hips. “Also, why do you even bother using your energy like that?” She pointed almost accusingly at the vase. “I’ve got five of the damned things in one of these boxes.”
“There’s no need to waste recklessly,” he replied coolly.
“I’m not in the mood for your sanctimonious preaching today,” she said, her eyes flashing blue fire. “Get. The fuck. Out.”
“As soon as you calm down and start acting like a dignified goddess.”
“Poseidon,” Hera said wearily. “This truly isn’t going to help.”
“Start acting like a goddess? My husband has just kicked me out of my own apartment! That happens to mortals, not us! We don’t get divorces! I’m more powerful than him! Without me, the mortal world would wither and die! How does he have any say over what I do and do not do?”
“I believe you’re forgetting that Hephaestus has played a rather large part in making the world what it is today,” Poseidon said heatedly, his own eyes flashing indignantly at her arrogance. “Mankind would still be living in hovels and dying at the age of thirty if his machines and technology hadn’t improved their living conditions!”
“You’re just taking his side because he’s been influencing all of those inventors to build hybrid cars and ridiculous shit like that,” she snapped with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Stop.”
Hera was suddenly between them, restraining hands raised and a no-argument look on her face. “Poseidon, go for a swim. Just stay away from this floor for a couple hours. Aphrodite, you’re going to stop screaming and throwing things. You’re going to finish packing, and then I’ll help you move into the spare apartment. Either of you says another word in that tone of voice, I’m dropping you into an active volcano.”
Fuming enough to give off steam, Poseidon stalked out of the room thinking boiling thoughts about self-important witches.
---
“If she asks me to do anything crazy, I’m going to stand my ground,” Eros told his wife at lunch. He chewed a grape in a distracted, thoughtful way. “I won’t take sides outright, but I’m not going to let her fuck up the mortal world just because she’s in a pissy mood.”
“But you’re on Heph’s side, right?” Psyche said, looking up from her salad.
“Oh, absolutely,” he said immediately.
“…Have you seen your father yet today?”
Eros sighed and toyed with the lettuce in his sandwich. “No. He’s in Iraq overseeing a new gun shipment. Flew out this morning, probably right before all of this blew up.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes and groaned. “Why is this family so insane? I really want to go talk with Heph, see how he’s handling all of this, but you know how awkward it is between us.”
“He doesn’t blame you for anything,” Psyche said, reaching across the table for his hand, which he gave her readily for a supportive squeeze. “And he loves you, even if he knows you’re not his son.”
“Well, I guess I’ll worry about all of this when I get home tonight,” he said, setting his plate on the counter. “Back to the lovey-dovey grind. Gotta make sure people are making babies on schedule and all.”
“Speaking of-” A knock at the door interrupted her.
“Hestia?” Eros said when he opened the door, quite taken aback by her nervous, worried manner.
“Could we talk for a moment? Alone?”
“Uh, sure. Your place?” He grabbed his briefcase from the coffee table, quickly kissed his wife’s cheek, and shut the door behind them.
The walk down the hall to Hestia’s apartment was unusually silent and awkward. Eros had always liked the retiring, shy goddess for her warmth and sweetness, but today she seemed preoccupied with something that was weighing on her heavily.
“Be honest,” she said after she’d shut her door. “Did you use one of your arrows on me?”
Eros blinked at her, off-balanced by the unexpected question. “No, Hestia, no. Why would you think that?”
“Did Hermes or Pan put you up to it?”
“Hestia, I didn’t do anything to you. Why would you think that?”
She looked down, her hands clenching into fists. “I’m the reason all of this drama has started.”
“How do you mean?”
“I’m in love with Hephaestus,” she blurted out-but then it was something of a shock that she had managed to hide this for so long from Eros, who could sense the presence of love at the very core of his being. “And I told him so last night, and now he’s kicked Aphrodite out and everyone’s going to be so angry with him and I don’t know what to do to make things right again.”
“Hestia, I’m pretty sure things weren’t ‘right’ when Heph and Aphrodite were together,” Eros said gently. “And my mother is going to calm down in a couple of days and everything will be smoothed over, no worse for the wear.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Yes, I do,” he said with as much conviction as he could muster. “But why would you think I’d make you fall in love with Hephaestus?”
“…I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking straight. I just know you don’t get along so well with your mother, and I know you want Hephaestus to be happy, and I guess I just thought maybe you’d planned all this…”
“You give me far too much credit,” he said with a smile. “No, you loving Hephaestus is due entirely to your own heart and his. And I have to say that I’m happy for you, because you’re a far better match for him than my mother ever could be.”
She smiled shyly at that.
“You, you are glad that you love him, right?”
“Oh, yes,” she said breathlessly. “And I’m happy that he’s taking a stand against her, I really am. I’m just afraid that Aphrodite is going to make everyone take sides, and that life around here is going to be even harder for him.”
“Heph’s made of pretty stern stuff,” Eros said reassuringly. “And I’ve the feeling that if the others begin to push him, they’ll find out just how stern he can be. Oh, and a quick word of advice,” he added, hand on the doorknob. “Keep this love of yours as quiet and unobtrusive as possible for as long as you can. I don’t want you to be getting any backlash from my mother.”
---
“Are you sure, dear? I mean, wouldn’t a council meeting be bet- Oh, I see. But are you certain that- Okay. I’ll pass the world along. Of course. Good luck with your meetings. Bye bye.”
Iris flipped her cell phone closed and stared at the wall for several minutes, steeling herself for what she had to do next. Her husband lowered the paper he’d been reading, glancing at her over the crinkled edge.
“Something wrong, Iris?”
“Zeus wants me to supervise a party tonight,” she said in a somewhat dull, lifeless way.
“…Is that a problem?” Morpheus demanded, brow furrowed in confusion. Iris excelled at parties, reveling in the light and color of it all, following fifteen different threads of conversation at once without missing a step.
“A party here,” she elaborated. “Just family.”
“I see,” he said thoughtfully, folding the paper and setting it aside. “And he specifically said party, not a council meeting?”
“No, a party, I even suggested a meeting instead. Oh, darling, how am I going to control this? As soon as the invitations go out, Dionysius and Pan and that wicked Hermes are going to put their naughty heads together and think up some truly terrible ways to make mischief. And what with the high emotions and tensions right now, how can I keep it from turning into an all out war?”
“Well,” Morpheus said slowly, coming to stand behind her chair, his large warm hands massaging her tight shoulders. “I happen to know that Zeus stopped to have a talk with the Oracle before he left today, so whatever he’s set into motion probably has something to do with her.”
“Oh, could you go talk to her?” Iris said eagerly, turning her head to look up at her pale husband. “Find out what she told Zeus?”
“You know how the Oracle can be, Iris,” he said. “I doubt she’d tell me what she told him.”
“But you’re so good with her,” Iris insisted. “She fancies you, I just know it. I’m sure you could winkle it out of her.”
“No, darling,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Just have some faith that Zeus knows what he’s doing, and that things won’t be quite the disaster you’re imagining them to be. Now, will you be calling every one, or would you like me to pass out paper invitations?”
---
“I knew there’d be a party!” Dionysius crowed, shoving the card back into the golden envelope.
“Family only, though,” Hermes complained.
“But the opportunities!” Dionysius threw an arm around his shoulders, practically putting him in a headlock in his excitement and knocking off the God of Thieves’ hat. “If everyone has to be there-except Zeus, the old codger-we’ll have delicious front row seats for all of the fireworks! Just how much whispering can Aphrodite take before she simply explodes? Ohhhh,” he released Hermes and began rubbing his hands in devilish delight. “We need some of that French wine you got us in Chicago.”
“You mean the wine that had you flat on your back fifteen minutes after you drank it?” Hermes said, straightening his hat.
“Well, that was more because Miss Illinois was very aggressive, but yes, that’s the one.”
“Gotcha. I’ll talk to my contacts.”
---
Hestia wanted very much to be up in her apartment, away from everyone. She felt utterly off-balanced and confused, a tangled mess of emotions and thoughts. She was the Goddess of the Hearth, and such parties made her feel like a country cousin. She didn’t like high heels, and when she looked at her more glamorous relatives in their couture and diamonds, she wanted to literally melt into the wall. She never felt as out of place and out of her element as she did when Iris threw one of her sophisticated parties.
At least Iris had set everything up in the Lito’s entranceway, which was more than big enough for everyone-and the bar and the table for hors d'oeuvres-without being too vast and intimidating.
Hephaestus had claimed a seat off to the side by the staircase, where he could sit half shrouded in shadow and avoid most of the attention. Of course, the others being the gossips that they were, he knew every pair of eyes would be glancing at him every few minutes. He simply sighed, straightened his gray jacket, and finished his second glass of champagne. He’d never understand why Zeus and the others were so infatuated with having these pointless ‘parties’, especially considering half of the family would be at the other half’s throats by the end of them.
Aphrodite hadn’t made her grand entrance yet; Hestia knew she’d no doubt arrive fashionably late and cause a big stir. She sipped at her wine and tried not to stare at Hephaestus, who looked just as uncomfortable in his gray slacks and jacket as she felt in her green evening dress.
Athena, dressed in a wine red gown with rubies in her hair, was walking by with a dark-haired man on her arm that Hestia didn’t recognize. The invitations had specifically said no one but family, but then Athena never did care a twig for what Zeus demanded. The Goddess of Wisdom glanced over at her and made an elegant turn, guiding her date over to Hestia’s corner.
“How are you holding up, dear?” Athena asked after kissing her cheek with a reassuring degree of warmth and fondness.
“Only a couple more hours to go, right?” Hestia said with a hesitant smile.
“That’s the spirit. Hestia, this is Icarus. He’s a new employee at Olympus Air. His father, Daedalus, invented that incredible new airship that runs entirely on water steam.”
“Are you an inventor, too?” Hestia asked as he shook her hand politely, knowing that Athena favored the intellectuals.
“Not at all, I’m afraid,” he said with a friendly smile. “No, I’m a pilot.”
“Hestia helps things run smoothly around here,” Athena said. “She’s our peacemaker and voice of reason.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said, blushing with embarrassment.
“So,” Athena said, leaning in a bit closer. “What do you think about the whole brouhaha with Aphrodite and Hephaestus?”
Hestia didn’t have to struggle for a noncommittal answer because a sudden ruckus by the basement door suddenly captured Athena’s attention.
Not many bothered with that particular floor, thanks in large part to the general mess that it was kept in, and so the basement’s trio of residents was often left well alone and ignored. It was likely Iris hadn’t even sent them invitations, though they technically were family; truth be told, the old women could often be disconcerting at these kinds of gatherings.
Invited or not, they had for some reason decided to make an appearance and were, true to their usual form, disrupting the entire flow of the party. Clotho had walked straight into Apollo just as he was stepping back from the bar with a pair of champagne flues, and the abrupt collision sent a shower of champagne and broken glass across the floor. At almost the same time Atropos had stepped directly into the fountain that Poseidon had placed in the center of the room, and begun loudly complaining that she’d stepped into someone’s spilled drink. Lachesis, who was perhaps the blindest of the three, had walked directly into a wall and was now yelling about her nose.
Athena excused herself and hurried over to help them, while everyone else gave them a wide berth and edged to the other side of the room. Hestia debated following after the Goddess of Wisdom, but knew it was likely she’d only get an unintentional slap in the face from one of the old women if she did.
“That goat boy stole our glasses!” Atropos was screeching as Athena pulled her from the fountain. “I know it was him! I smelled him!”
“Smells like grass and farm animal he does!” Clotho agreed vehemently, grabbing blindly.
“Do I smell nibbles?” Lachesis shouted, feeling her way down the wall towards the hors d'oeuvres table.
Demeter deftly intercepted her before she could pull the white satin cloth-and all of the silver platters-from the table and steered her back towards the basement. “I’ll bring you down a tray straight away, dear,” she said smoothly. “And we’ll find your glasses, too.”
“Good for nothing goat boy took ‘em!” Atropos reiterated. “Deserves a good lashing for treating us old women so poorly!”
“Shut your mouth, Atropos!” Clotho screamed. “You sound like a damn broken record!”
Between them, Athena and Demeter managed to get the trio back down the stairs with only a minimum of physical force. When the two reemerged, their hair and dresses were somewhat disheveled.
“Suppose I best go find my boy, eh?” Hermes said, flashing a sheepish grin before dashing off towards the greenhouse.
There were a few moments of hushed conversation following the outburst before the rhythm of the party reasserted itself and the mingling began again in earnest.
Artemis wandered over to Hestia, wearing a practical skirt and blouse that would be at home on a tennis court, her hair done up simply in a bun. “Seems my brother has been making eyes at some of my friends again,” she said brusquely, sipping a martini. “I wanted to make sure he’s been keeping his hands off your Vestal maidens.”
“I haven’t had any complaints,” Hestia replied.
“What would there be to complain about?” Dionysius said, suddenly popping up between them, a wolfish grin on his face.
“I’ve heard you’ve been making advances at my girls, too,” Artemis said coldly.
“Artemis, you simply can’t be parading your gorgeous friends around this place and not expect me to chase after them,” Dionysius said, nonchalantly downing his glass of scotch. “It’s like dangling a well-cooked steak in front of a starving man.”
“As if you know anything about starving,” Artemis said.
“Oh, I know what it’s like to not get what you want at times,” he said with an arched, suggestive eyebrow, daring a quick slap on a certain bit of her anatomy before he darted away, out of her reach and back to the bar.
“Bastard,” Artemis growled. “Don’t know how you stand him.”
“He is what he is,” Hestia said with a small smile.
Poseidon and Hera walked by, clearly arguing but in low enough tones to make their specific words inaudible.
“Poseidon doesn’t seem happy to be here,” Hestia observed.
“He wanted to be in Singapore,” Artemis clarified. “He’s trying to broker a new deal with a Chinese fishing company. But Zeus left specific orders that he had to attend.”
“A bit rich, considering he jetted off as soon as he could,” Hestia said.
“You know how Zeus can be,” was all Artemis said, her shrug speaking volumes.
In the murmur of conversation, no one had heard the whirr of the elevator as it descended. When the doors opened with an unusually loud ding, everyone turned to look as Aphrodite stepped out with all of her usual flair for the dramatics. She was wearing a 1920’s-style silver flapper dress, the fringe most likely actual silver. Her golden hair was swept up in an artful bunch of curls, held back by a diamond-studded headband that had a large white ostrich feather thrust through it.
“Yes, yes, bravo,” someone said loudly into the momentary silence. “The most beautiful woman in the world has graced us with her glorious presence. Give me another gin and tonic, Dionysius.”
Hestia had to stifle the smile that threatened to creep across her face as Aphrodite shot a poisonous glare at Poseidon, who was utterly unconcerned and already sipping from his refilled glass. She glanced over at Hephaestus, who wasn’t even bothering to hide his smile.
“Artemis,” Aphrodite said sharply, glancing over. “I’d like to have a word with you.”
Almost an hour went by without much mishap. Hestia finally claimed a chair to save her feet-she may be a goddess, but heels were far from her strong suit-and worked her way half-heartedly through a glass of Dionysius’s favorite wine. She was sitting almost directly across from Hephaestus-all that was between them were the mingling, ever moving bodies of the others. Iris flitted by several times, asking if she needed anything and playing the part of the concerned hostess perfectly. Aphrodite moved from Artemis to Hera, to Athena, to Persephone, to Hectate-carefully steering clear of Dionysius’s group (which included Hermes, Pan, Apollo, Eros, and Psyche) and Poseidon and Hades, who were deep in heated conversation. She never looked over at her for-now husband or at the nearly invisible Hestia.
Watching the way the others spoke to each other and glanced about them, Hestia wondered how different the dynamic of the room would be if Ares (who was still in Iraq) or Zeus were in attendance. Would Aphrodite be openly accompanying Ares? Would Zeus be a calming or infuriating influence?
Her cheeks felt very warm and her head felt too light. Hestia watched the crippled god sitting several yards away through the cover of her thick eyelashes. She thought about the night before, when she had said all of those things she’d been bottling for so many weeks: the way his hand had felt against her cheek, the hesitant, gentle kiss he’d given her before pulling away with a mixture of bashful embarrassment and confusion. He’d said he would need time, that he had to sort things out with Aphrodite, that he had to learn how to assert himself again, that he had too many things to think about.
It was nearing midnight, and Hestia was woozy. She stood, slightly unsteady on her feet-probably just the heels, she decided-and made her way over to the bar.
Dionysius swooped over in record time. “Can I get you anything nice, sweetie?”
“You can have this,” she said, carefully enunciating as she handed him the empty wineglass. “I’m going to bed.”
“Leaving so soon?” he asked, giving her the full power of his puppy dog eyes.
“Don’t try that on me,” she warned, waggling a finger. “Won’t work.”
“Did you like the wine? Had it brought in special from Chicago.”
“Yeah, it was tasty.”
“You’re gorgeous tonight, by the way,” Dionysius called after her as she made her way to the elevator. She simply waved carelessly over her shoulder and leaned against the button she wanted.
The doors whooshed open and she stumbled in, stepping on the hem of her dress and almost falling forward. But there was a strong hand suddenly at her elbow, steadying her until she could straighten.
“Need a bit of help?” Hephaestus said with a soft smile that she felt was meant only for her.
---
Aphrodite’s fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne flue. There was a sharp ping of broken glass, and the base was suddenly shattering against the marble floor.
“Um, your glass, Auntie?” Apollo said helpfully, pointing.
She ignored him entirely, watching as the elevator doors slid shut before she turned sharply and caught Dionysius’s pleased grin.
“You knew, didn’t you?” she demanded, striding towards him and carelessly crushing the rest of her glass in her delicate hand.
“Knew what exactly?” the God of Wine said with a convincing amount of innocence.
“That my husband has been sneaking around with that so-called virgin,” she hissed.
“No comprende, dear sister,” Dionysius said, hands raised defensively.
“Who else knows? Does everyone?”
A tanned hand suddenly encircled her wrist. “Don’t make a scene now.”
Aphrodite twisted sharply in an attempt to pull free. “Let me go, Poseidon.”
“I’ve had enough of your dramatics today,” he retorted, turning her with a bit more force than necessary and pushing her before him towards the greenhouse.
“You bastard!” she shrieked just after he’d managed to close and lock the door. “You have absolutely no right to treat me this way!”
“Why?” he demanded with just as much passion. “Why don’t I have the right? Because you’re the Goddess of Beauty? Fuck that. I’m the God of the Sea. I outrank you, you spoiled little princess. And I have every right to keep you from making a total ass of yourself and ruining everyone else’s night.”
“He’s my husband,” Aphrodite hissed.
“So? What does it matter if he’s been cheating on you or he hasn’t? You can’t throw any damn stones. Where do you get off playing the pious wife? Everyone knows Eros is Ares’ son, not Hephaestus’. I can’t bloody understand you, Aphrodite.”
“You don’t have to,” she said, eyes blazing. “It’s not your fucking job to understand me, or to make me behave, or to keep me faithful. What I do or do not do is none of your damn business, Poseidon, so you can get off that high horse of yours and leave me the fuck alone.”
“And is this how you’re going to reinvent yourself?” he demanded, refusing to back down. “Artemis has told me all about your plans to change your image. To be taken more seriously. To be more respected by the world. And this is how you’re doing that? By playing the betrayed wife while you order around your illegitimate son?”
There was a heartbeat of silence, both staring at the other with vindicated fury hot in their eyes.
“Have you ever tried to go against your fundamental nature?” Aphrodite demanded finally, her voice quieter but no less passionate.
“Have you ever tried to change the world overnight?” he countered. “Humans are a destructive race. Try changing them for the better and see how long it takes you.”
“I’m doing what I can,” she said, struggling to steady her breathing. “It’s difficult to break habits you’ve had for six hundred years.”
“Maybe you need to try harder, then.”
“Oh? And how do you suggest I do that? Since you’re so good at giving advice, since you know everything, since you’re always right and just and never put a single toe out of line,” she said, every line of her elegant body visibly trembling with anger.
“You could start by giving Hephaestus the divorce he wants,” Poseidon said, his jaw tightening. “Drop all of the useless dramatics. Leave him alone, and learn how to stand on your own feet without using your husband as a crutch or an excuse or a means of getting sympathy and pity from your adoring masses.”
“You think I use Hephaestus as a means to win sympathy?” she said.
“I do. You love attention, Aphrodite. You can’t survive without it. And you’ll use any means to get it.”
“You bastard. You do know none of us can stand your holier-than-thou attitude? That we just humor you and your little crusades. Do you know how many jokes Dionysius and Pan have made at your expense? How much the mortals mock you, and deride you, and doubt your good intentions? What is the fucking point, Poseidon? None of it matters. Humanity will never thank you for your efforts, will never acknowledge your work. You’re fighting a losing battle that no one appreciates.”
“What else would you have me do?” he shouted. “Live like you, dissipated and bitter and lonely?”
Aphrodite laughed, a sharp, short, bitter laugh. “Lonely? I could be with any man I want.”
“And does it fill the ache? Does it really make you feel better? Does it make you feel like a stronger woman?”
“Stop it!”
“If you want to be a stronger woman, then be a stronger woman. You’re a goddess, Aphrodite. You can’t make excuses. You can’t blame any of us for your own failings, and you can’t blame mankind. You owe it to them to be better than you are; you owe it to yourself.”
“Stop!”
“I know why you act like this. I’ve figured it out. I understand you now. You hate yourself, Aphrodite. You hate what mankind pictures you to be. They all say you’re petty and shallow, and so you prove them right every day because it’s easy. If you don’t want to be that goddess any more, then you have to find something in yourself to admire. You have to change before they will.”
There were tears in her eyes, and her hands had tightened into fists of helpless rage. “Damn you, Poseidon. We’re not all as strong as you.”
“Bullshit,” he said.
And then her hands were at his collar, pulling him closer. His palms slid down the curves of her waist as she pressed her lips to his. She tasted of champagne and tears as she tangled her fingers in his ginger hair. The blood rushing in her ears sounded like the crashing of waves, and as he gasped against her neck everything went white.
---
The elevator had gotten halfway to her floor before he’d pressed the emergency stop button.
“You are okay?” he asked, his brow slightly furrowed. She had an almost irresistible urge to reach over and smooth out the lines with her thumb.
“I’m just peachy,” she smiled, leaning against the wall. “That wine Dionysius got, it has a real kick to it.”
“One glass and you’re gone,” he chuckled.
“Goddess of the Hearth, not Goddess of the Booze,” Hestia pointed out.
“You look beautiful in that dress,” he said hesitantly, glancing down at his feet and then back up to her face. “I, I mean, you always look beautiful,” he said quickly, after he’d had a moment to think about what he’d said. “Just… Especially so. Tonight.” Again with the furtive looks down and back.
It was one of the most endearing things she’d ever seen, and she couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread across her face.
“You look nice, too,” she murmured. “Though I like you best in the t-shirts. Shows off your arms.”
“My arms?” His eyes widened in surprise, and she laughed.
“You’re so nice,” she said dreamily. “You don’t know how cute you are, do you?”
“Me?” He blinked incredulously, reaching over and quickly hitting the stop button again. The elevator lurched back into life, almost throwing Hestia over. She found herself leaning against him, one of his muscular arms around her waist.
“Yes. You.” She met his eyes steadily, her cheeks flushed and strands of honey-hued hair framing her blue eyes. “I think you’re all kinds of cute. And sexy, too.”
His face was almost beet red now. “You wouldn’t be saying this if you weren’t tipsy.”
“Probably not,” she agreed genially. “But I’d still be thinking it.”
The door opened with a chime. “Here’s the stop,” he said. “Can you stand?”
“Of course I can,” she said, straightening. “But walking, that I’m not so sure about.”
“I’ll help,” he assured.
Luckily, Hestia’s apartment was the first on the right. After a minute of twisting, she’d managed to open the door and stagger inside. Hephaestus found the light switch as she fell onto the couch.
“Hephaestus,” she said quietly after a moment. He’d made his way to the kitchen and was pouring her a glass of water.
“Yes?”
“Did I do anything wrong?”
“Wrong?” He set the glass on the coffee table and gingerly lowered himself onto the edge of the couch. “No, nothing. Why would you think that?”
“Everything with Aphrodite,” she mumbled. “I just feel bad.”
“You shouldn’t,” he said firmly, quietly. “She’ll get over it.”
“And you?”
He stared at her for quite some time in silence. Then he reached over and brushed the hair from her face, the tips of his fingers gentle and cool against her skin. “I’ll get over it. With help.”
She smiled, a soft twist of her lips that made something twinge inside him. Her eyes fluttered shut a moment later, the dark lashes a soft fan against the creamy white of her skin, and she slept.
He watched her for almost an hour before finally turning off the light and closing the door behind him.
---
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Everything happened as I Saw it, sir,” the Oracle murmured. “It should be calm around here by the time you get back. Yes, sir. Aphrodite will be behaving herself for quite some time. I understand it’s an unusual match. Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Goodbye.”
She returned the phone to its cradle and turned her attention back to the newest Rose Cupid book. With the way things developed around here, she’d be lucky to finish this one before the next major catastrophe.