Chapter 2:
The sounds of the forests seemed so much more visceral here in the open. Within the sheltered realm that Hera and Zeus forged, everything was picturesque. Perfect...yet so fake. He had travelled like a man until nightfall, still shrouded in the forests and shrubbery when he made camp. Hephaestus inspected the flesh and meat of the great Python, intent on discovering what power lied within.
He was…unimpressed by Python. Why was a creature of such renown in the future so…weak? He cooked the snake meat, using the knowledge that EMIYa had accumulated and practiced over the countless renditions of Chaldea. As a divine existence, his use of EMIYA's skills were naturally of a higher quality, though he never truly knew just how much till this moment. Watching the meat sizzle on the flames he conjured made him wonder just how much he could learn from the creature's flesh. He decided to analyze the flesh using structural analysis, and lo to his surprise did he find that the spell was as flawless as if he was analyzing a sword. Well…sort of.
The history of the creature was not entirely transparent. It was murky and unclear, but there was enough clear fragments to learn more about the creature overall. He had assumed that the Python he had faced was the original, the one that Apollo would eventually slay in his earliest myth. This was not the case, or at least was unlikely. For there was more than one Python. There was a parent, siblings, and various other hazy creatures that he wasn't too sure of. The creature before him, slain by his hand, was not a fully grown divine beast, but rather a weak almost newborn. He had known for quite some time that Python's goal was devouring pieces of Leto's sheared off divinity, a byproduct of her pregnancy. He had, at first, assumed this to be a ploy of some sort, a method of weakening a god unique to this line of monster, using the divine fragments to slowly drain the powers of the prey in question. In a way it was. Python was weak not because the creature itself was weak, but rather because the creature had never eaten its full before. Python, by its very nature, was a sponge for divine energy. Whatever being it targeted, it would devour and increase in power in accordance with the threat before it. It was a perfect predator and one that would never grow hungry, as Gods never died.
He turned the flesh over, cooking the other side and lathering a slew of herbs he collected. It wasn't perfect, but that was alright.
In one of the more common variants of Apollo's myth, Leto was trapped by the Python, requiring her son to fight in her stead to free her. While there were a number of different retellings, a good number portrayed Apollo fighting the creature alone. Considering Leto was a Titan, the idea that a divine beast had such a complete hold on her was highly unlikely. But considering Python's abilities and feeding habits…it made sense why Leto of all Goddesses needed help. Hephaestus also learned an important factor he didn't rightly consider. Years ago, he warded off the beast, letting it run away after it had bitten him on the ankle. The wound healed quickly, but the creature eluded his divine senses. It was that moment that led to Hephaestus realizing the degradation of his senses overall. He had assumed the creature went after Leto. Due to his word, he never left to investigate. It never did, instead attempting to absorb the energy that it had taken from him instead. The energy that Hephaestus produced was divine enough for Python to absorb…it just wasn't digestible. When he had fended off the creature years ago, its flesh was resilient, more than strong enough to withstand the countless barrage of Hephaestus weapons, both mystical and mundane. At the time, divine constructs were simply not possible, Hephaestus lacking the insight to truly recreate them. His own divinity made creating divine constructs easy…but he found them disgustingly hollow. They were just stale fragments, brought to life to simply serve a purpose. He was better than that. Unlike EMIYA, who had no pride in his creations, Hephaestus was filled with it. He would not tolerate a product that wasn't up to his exact standards. The only exception was a requested product. Only then would he acquit to a customer's request. He was confident he would win as well. That was the problem with the standard divine constructs. They were less weapons of power and more symbols of authority, conduits of their strength. To EMIYA, they were trump cards of great power, but in this realm…such a thing didn't exist.
What would happen to the current hierarchy if divine weapons could empower a God beyond their typical might? That was a question for the future, one that Hephaestus would avoid as best he could. Now, in his current state, he knew exactly how to craft divine constructs the way he wanted them and could even recreate the divine constructs EMIYA had seen but "deleted" from his memory. EMIYA's mind would crumble under the weight of any divine construct he created bar a few exceptions. Far as the God of fire could tell, EMIYA's inner world could contain the "blueprint" of the divine constructs but could not actualize them. The process of translating them to his inner world would almost kill him in most cases, but the intervention of ALAYA was the most likely reason this didn't happen.
Hephaestus, as a mostly divine entity, did not harbor such a weakness. So, it was as he summoned the sword that slew the Orochi so soon, both as a means to test the blade itself and under the assumption that the creature would have been stronger. The blade, powerful as it was, was merely a blade. It would have taken several precise strikes to kill the Orochi with it. That or enacting the blade as a Noble Phantasm would suffice as well. In short, the Python of myth should not have been felled in one blow. From what he could gather, his own divine energy was responsible for the degradation of the creature's strength, the mortal essence within him poisoning the beast. It was one thing to eat flesh for sustenance, it was another to devour the essence of another being to gain greater strength. It was why monster typically avoided attacking humans when they grew strong enough.
In a way, it made Hephaestus jealous of the beast. It knew exactly what it wanted to be, what purpose it had…but he did not. EMIYA's experiences shed some insights but nothing that Hephaestus was confident enough to adhere by. He was an anomaly, that much was true. He sighed, wondering what he was meant to be. He was an accident, through and through. His very existence a strange miracle. Did he have a purpose? Did…did he want one? EMIYA existed with a purpose for countless eons as a hunter for humanity. It was horrible, disgusting, and frankly overwhelming even for Hephaestus. The lack of agency, the complete and utter desecration of one's ideals. Was it strange that, for all that horror, for all that suffering, that…he missed the direction? He had lived every moment that EMIYA did, though it felt like it was ages ago. In those memories, swimming away amongst his angst, was the surety of knowing precisely why he existed…that he was needed. The God rubbed his calloused hands, loosing himself in the feeling of his flesh. He was real. He was here. That should have been enough, considering all that he experienced as EMIYA…yet it wasn't.
Intellectually he knew that life was ultimately pointless, and that life was lived irrespective of that truth. There was beauty in the struggle, that there was beauty in making your life entirely what you wanted it to be. The freedom to do that was humanity's greatest strength. Sure, there were laws. Social, moral, and physical constrictions existed as well. Yet ultimately everything was permitted. Nothing could truly stop someone from just doing whatever they wanted. They could be interrupted, killed, and even captured to prevent their actions…but nothing stopped man from actualizing that goal, of trying to bring their goals to reality. It was a concept that brought a content smile to Hephaestus' face. Humanity in that way was so tangible, so beautiful. Before EMIYA, he never connected with humans…he felt beyond them. In truth he was, regardless of how connected he felt, there was no denying that he was a greater power. But even so, humans were dear to him. Saving people…it was like that boy Shirou said so long ago.
It wasn't wrong to help people.
It wasn't wrong to be kind.
Hindsight as they say was absolute. What EMIYA failed to comprehend was that it was not his ideals that betrayed him. If anything, it was the opposite Hephaestus found. EMIYA never truly embodied his ideals, as such they could not have betrayed him. In fact, he never lived by his ideals either. The truth was a far more depressive state than that. EMIYA was a victim of the ideals that were introduced to him by his father, consumed by it with open arms. Anything that could fill the void within his own shattered heart was grasped with an avarice beyond human comprehension. He drowned within it to the point he was warped beyond human common sense. He was doomed from the start. Even as a Heroic Spirit EMIYA failed to understand this, such was his curse.
"Am I so different?" murmured Hephaestus, eating his food.
There were parts of him that shied away from the truth, that detested the idea of it, but he shared in EMIYA's desperation. Desperate for someone, anyone, to tell him why he was born the way he was. He was not a mortal, at least not entirely. Before his bonding with EMIYA, before his shift of perspective, he was entirely a divine entity. They were not simply born like humans were. When a God was born, they had a purpose, a reason, for existing. Even if it was something as simple as forging iron all day like those weirdos, they at least were assured of why they existed. Yet…here he was, with domains that were technically fulfilled by others. Athena was going to be born one day, if she wasn't already. After all, Hephaestus was not always a staple in Athena's myths. Some humans described that she simply burst from Zeus' head with a spear in hand…somehow.
She was a craftsman Goddess, one more versed in clothing and such, but that was merely a step behind. Nothing could stop her from expanding the idea of "crafting" to include metal working. He was a "blacksmith" but that didn't stop Hephaestus from creating cloth and other such products at the divine level. He was not a jeweler, but he crafted the girdle of Aphrodite in the other world. He was a God of fire, but both Prometheus and Hestia shouldered domains similar enough. The God of Volcanos? Perhaps, but one could argue that Typhon was divine enough to embody that domain as well, monstrous as it was.
Nothing he owned was truly unique. So…why was he here? Because if he was just an accident…than that made everything around him meaningless.
"What am I doing," smirked Hephaestus, a somewhat sad smile on his face, "thinking of these things does little for me."
He sighed as he looked up at the stars. At the end of the day, however uncertain or anxious he may have been, whatever uncertainty plagued him, he was free. That, no matter what else, was all that mattered. He simply walked to this location, and he would keep walking and exploring until someone stopped him. He wasn't too concerned about not crafting things, after all, his reality marble was akin to a portable forge. Every time he slept, he returned to that world. One more noble phantasm, one more school of learning under his belt. He closed his eyes, ready for another day…or at least pretended to. His nose twitched as he smelled something that was akin to…cows? He opened his eyes, glowing a savage ethereal gold. In the distance his enhanced eyesight saw a village, one with a large bonfire. A celebration perhaps?
Hephaestus' eyes burned a bit, but he simply closed them. To see beyond clear mortal sight strained his eyes immensely, as such concepts as spirits were invisible unless he decided to invoke his greater sight manually. His hearing, sense of smell, and even his sense of touch has all deteriorated, requiring direct intervention. There was no mistaking that he eclipsed EMIYA in every parameter, but his senses were no longer as sharp as they once were when he was a pure God. Funny how that worked.
A small price to pay in his opinion, considering how he was previously. It was annoying but that was it. He devoured the last of the snake, letting the power within diffused into his stomach. That was another matter entirely that irked him. Before he merged with EMIYA, the concept of food was foreign to the God. It was something to enjoy as a taste but was not a necessity in any form. Ambrosia and Nectar were forms of food as a God but was not the result of their immortality as mortals assumed.
The common myths of that nature were not completely inaccurate though. From what Hephaestus could gather, the use of Ambrosia was vital in the creation of a God from a mortal template. Sadly, the average mortal would combust from consuming even a small amount of the heavenly substance, their souls copied as a template for a new God. A divine clone, if you would. The subsequent affair would result in the original human being devoured by the new divine entity. In theory, this resulted in the God being identical to the human in every way. One could argue that nothing changed in the end, just the method that wasn't pretty. He himself believed that the resulting God was a new person, the old human soul the building blocks for a new divine core.
Hephaestus would know. After all, that was the same process his own existence tried to pull with EMIYA, resulting in the gestalt he had become. Many were the weaknesses that Hephaestus inherited. Yet, it was not a weakness of the flesh that ailed him now, but rather of the mind. He craved interaction. Of communicating with people. Before, he wanted admiration and lust, attention for the sake of validating that he was just as important as everyone else and to bask in that river of self-importance through physical confirmation. Now? Now he just wanted to talk to people that were not influenced by the counter force, to have discussions with people whose faces he hadn't seen repeatedly for countless millennia…no. Hephaestus shook his head, knowing the truth was far far weaker. Far baser than a God would normally admit.
He wanted to be loved. He didn't crave it like before, he could live without it…but that didn't mean he wanted to. He…he wanted a family. The one thing that he had been deprived of as EMIYA, the concept that he never had even in this life…that was what he truly wanted. Hera was…different here. So were the other Gods. There existed the possibility that a real family was possible in this life. He just had to search for it. To grab it fiercely with his own hands! But as desperate as he was for that connection, Olympus was simply not an option. Not now. His freedom was more important than a need for familial and sexual love. The feel of the air, the freedom of going wherever he wanted? That was a far more addictive and pleasurable feeling for the Hephaestus that was now. His cybernetic legs allowed him the freedom of movement that he had been denied previously. He could give less of a shit if he was the slowest God there ever was…he could go places! Screw feeling sorry for himself, Hephaestus decided he wanted to see what this festival was all about. Considering the current era, there was a real possibility that this village was a cult or filled with bandits and crazy people. He was powerful enough that the risk was negligible. He would indulge his curiosity.
Well…that and the fact that the priestess he met a few years ago was at the forefront of whatever ritual was taking place certainly didn't hurt his observations. A goat was placed upon an altar of stone, a sacrifice. As the blade fell deep within the goat, Hephaestus felt the miniscule amount of divine energy produced through the priestess' actions. It flowed, finding its way back to Leto. Most gods would "taste" the sacrifice or at least admit to something like a pleasant smell from burnt offerings. It did nothing for them really. It gave the illusion of energy, much like caffeine did, and was something that Gods and Goddesses enjoyed from their followers. The rest of the goat was thrown to the bonfire eventually and Hephaestus had just arrived through the village perimeter, his newfound mobility a great boon for the God. The village was well built, with numerous men and even women with weapons patrolling the village grounds. Probably on the lookout for bandits. Hephaestus felt a flash of orange in the corner of his eye and had a small smile. In the distance, far beyond human sight, was Ifrit. The Pheonix ruffled their wings at him, letting him know that he was aware of Hephaestus' sight. He took in the village walls and…was pleasantly surprised at their construction. The material was shoddy, and the overall craftsmanship could be better, but the foundations and solid frames were to be commended, especially currently.
It wasn't uncommon for village homes to collapse from disrepair or shoddy workmanship in this era. Someone with talent created these homes…though they lacked knowledge to further improve their skill, their talent was obvious. Homes were not something that could just be built time and time again. Perhaps he should make a game of it and find this craftsman? He turned his head and passed by another home, only to bump into another person. For all his heighten senses, they were next to worthless when he was absorbed in his thoughts like this. He looked down at the woman that bumped into his chest. She had long brown hair and she stared at him like she…
Wait.
"Agnes?" whispered Hephaestus.
The girl's face went bright red, her body covered in a rough but well-made chiton. She had developed into a rather pretty girl, shapely too. In fact, she was in great shape, considering that she was pregnant. It wasn't too noticeable, but the bump was there. She had been seven when they had met and yet was now close to adulthood at what he assumed was 17. But he had only been gone for 4 years? How had she aged for a decade? Unless she was a huge eleven-year-old, in which the father of her baby would die a horrifying death, there was simply one explanation. He was inside Leto's dimension for far longer than he thought.
"He…Hephaestus," she whispered his name with a slight wariness. Good. The gods were not always kind to mortals, at least she had learned her lesson. Or…at least he thought she did. As he rose up, towering over her completely even now, she rushed and slammed him into as much a hug as she was willing to allow, careful of the child growing in her stomach.
"I can't believe it is you!"
Her eyes sparkled with life as she stepped away from him. She bowed slightly.
"Please, I would love to host you for a time with my family."
He went to reject that kind offer, but when she looked up…it struck at every weak part of him. Such a pure expression….honestly there was no way he could simply say no. That hollow part of him that craved some form of normalcy was soothed this day…all because he took a walk from the woods and simply went where he wished. He followed her through the village, ignoring the various stares. He arrived at a rather large home. Not obscenely so, but one that was wider and more fortified than the others. She opened the door and immediately a small child rushed to her legs, making her laugh.
"Chloe!"
She reached down, grabbing the young girl. She cooed at her, and Hephaestus learned quickly that the child was her niece. They entered the home and he saw that she was living amongst her brother's family with her own partner and mother. They were all around a table, with various offerings. There were many rooms in this small house, each with an assortment of things that were probably normal for human families in ancient Greece It was the offerings that confused him the most. The small effigy of Leto made sense, as this island was filled with followers of the Titaness. Yet, it was the second effigy that made no sense. The legs were black, purposely charred, yet the upper body was pristine wood, shaped with a delicate hand and honed over and over. The grooves showed a steady and practiced hand, representing that this was far from the crafter's first attempt. Who was this? The mother dropped the plate she was holding, a practice he realized they must have learned from him. He had presented to them food on rudimentary plates, a practice that only some Greeks had done at the time. Now, it seemed to have spread to this village, or at least this family. They all sat around an unevenly rectangular table; the chairs misshapen but functional. To be fair, the craftsmanship of the entire ensemble was beyond incredible, considering the lack of modern tools and knowledge, he turned to Agnes, and she merely gave him a wide smile.
"Welcome to our home Hepheas-GRK!"
She was silenced by a glare from her mother. The woman that Hephaestus had met those years ago was nowhere to be seen. She was no longer haggard, brought low by stress with skin that was dried and broken. A body shuddering under the burden of her life. Instead, her skin was soft and untested, her body full and wide. Her eyes were brown, and her hair had some silvery strands through it. He smiled a bit, eyeing her fuller figure. She was an attractive older woman, one who had seemed to find her peace. She was no longer the battered woman, but instead the strong matriarch that stood before him. It was nice to see. She took the small Chloe from Agnes and bowed to him deeply. Almost too deeply. Dear god her chest was…bountiful. For a moment a surge of lust echoed through him…one that was promptly obliterated by the steel resolve within. He would not emulate the behaviors of this time. A woman this beautiful was without a man for a reason, one that he would respect. It wasn't because he was nervous…no…he was a courageous man…he was just respecting her. That was the reason…right.
The sly look he eyed from Agnes was not helping matters.
"Welcome lord, I…I can't believe you have graced us with your presence…you've changed."
She smiled as she looked at his confused expression. She entered his personal space easily enough and struggled for a moment…but relented in parsing her hands through his hair. She stared into his eyes, indulging in the curiosity of being able to look at a God without reservation. Any other divine being would smite her…so Hephaestus appreciated the trust she had for him this moment. She cleared her throat, having been lost in his eyes for far longer than she wanted to. The pools of shimmering gold echoed with a life she saw from no one else. He was built like a damn house and even covered; his musculature was visible. The clothes he wore were impressive enough that she was confident she knew exactly how to strike up a conversation. She was honestly interested in the strange grey cloak he now wore.
"I didn't get a chance to properly thank you all those years ago, please have some food. We have plenty during Leto's festival."
She gestured to her family, and he smiled over at the boy now turned man, his wife staring at his eyes and hair with unhidden awe. Red hair like his own was impossible for humans. The closest approximation was…well ginger hair much like the young Chloe had. His own hair was such a vibrant crimson that any human being would balk at the impossible sight. He let his hood fall as he smiled at everyone.
"I appreciate your hospitality. I admit, I did not purposely come here for you or your family. All the same I am happy to see that you are well."
The smile spread across her face, as the Matriarch introduced herself.
"My name is Calliope, and you are welcomed in our home."
The son rose to stand and offer him his seat, but Hephaestus merely waved his hand. A shimmer of a dark reddish hue and a perfect replica of the chair was pulled out. It was reinforced to support his greater weight. The small child clapped her hands at his magic, making Hephaestus smile more.
Was this the power of a child? Of seeing something so innocent enraptured by your skills and presence? He could understand the reason that humans, regardless of blood relation, would defend children so fiercely. They were precious and adorable. Chloe's cheeks puffed up as she demanded another show but was reprimanded by Calliope. A large portion of Hephaestus wanted to do as the child asked, but he thought better of it. He didn't want to disrespect the authority of the woman who welcomed him in her home. The look of desire she had was obvious to all…except the God himself. EMIYA, for all his inhuman emotions, was experienced enough to tell when a woman was interested. Hephaestus was to…but was not confident enough to believe that such interest could exist. It took time to shuffle but eventually they all sat down. Hephaestus felt the world go quiet and his heart go cold. As they rushed to settle in with his presence, he could feel the love and comfort these people had with each other. The small gestures, the comfort, and the slight undercurrent of emotion…this was what he wanted. A family. A sanctuary. But…this only served as a reminder of how things should have been…a reminder of what he never had…both in this life and his previous one. At least as EMIYA, he never actually felt it so acutely. He was not abandoned, he merely survived. Perhaps that was what made it sting more? Still, his smile grew as he was handed some food and learned more about the people he met those years ago. This…was good. It sparked hope. Agnes brought out of the food, welcoming her own partner into the home, a large stout man with a massive beard. What was once a quiet affair was quick to evolve into a loud discussion. For a brief moment…Hephaestus felt a sense of belonging.
-Elsewhere, on Mount Olympus-
Hours ago, the gods welcomed Artemis and Apollo to the home of the Greek Gods. What a glorious celebration it was gearing up to be. Immediately, Artemis and Apollo both proved their worth as greater gods and were welcomed to the thrones of Olympus, taking their places next to their father. As Leto walked the halls of Olympus, she sneered at the sight of the numerous minor gods lamenting their station. Oh how they raged at their impotence, declaring things such as fairness and equality in their shadowy corners. They called her whore, named her betrayer, and yet did they say such things amid Zeus' awareness? No, they cowardly struck only when retribution was not possible and even than with nothing but barbs and baseless words. As she walked the halls of Olympus, Leto began to reminisce. The sight of all these minor Gods reminding her of a time when Zeus attempted to disobey the warnings of the Fates. He was warned, that only through twelve gods of greater power, through twelve Olympians, would his rule be final and lasting. Zeus had, ironically, no desire to be king. He desired authority and power, that much was true, but the God himself was as fitful as the winds and sky he embodied. To tie him down to any sort of responsibility was asinine. His brothers were similar in that regard, but more agreeable to their stations. Zeus knew himself completely and utterly, another factor of why Leto felt so deeply for the rebellious son of Kronos. Other Gods would shy away from the more…unsightly aspects of their nature. Zeus did not. He knew what he was, who he was, and lived as fully and deeply as he pleased. He took what he wanted, saved what he wanted, and destroyed what he wanted.
By the primordial divines he was…mesmerizing to Leto. She remembered when he created a council, a body in which every God and every spirit had a vote to decide the fate of their pantheon. It was a beautiful display, though more for his own selfish desires than out of any empathy in truth. Everything these minor gods wanted, every bit of authority they desired was delivered to them. There were no minor or major Gods, for a moment they were all simply Gods who each held within them the authority to decide their own fate, however limitedly they could accomplish that.
And what did they do with it?
Leto glared at Nemisis as she walked by, the supposed Goddess of retribution. She claimed to speak of fairness and equality, but she was more an agent of discord and chaos than even Eris! She was one voice amongst many, those among the "minor" gods that rebelled against the idea, attempting a coup at the first meeting that Hera adjourned. It was a shame to, for Hera would have made an excellent moderator, that much Leto had full faith in. But no, these spiteful and arrogant minor deities wanted to RULE. They didn't wish to change, they merely wanted to empower themselves, believing that somehow having the throne would grant them power. They were wrong. The minor gods were not called "minor" as a mere disregard, as a mere insult. They were called minor…because they were WEAK. Zeus alone stood amongst their numbers and cowed them under his heel at the first slight against Hera. Say what you would about Zeus, they were all true, but attack a member of his now called Olympians…and he would destroy you. Thousands of Minor Gods attempted to murder Hera, Poseidon, and Hermes. Zeus obliterated hundreds in an instant, sending them screaming into the realms of Tartarus. He waged a vengeance upon them so fierce, that it was struck from the records to never be spoken of again. He lamented their weakness, decreeing that any "minor god" was free to try and take his throne he would not fight it. He even warned them. Afterwards, he declared himself a god of "Justice". He allowed each minor god to "sit" upon the thrones the Fates decreed, and each of the usurpers perished under the weight, dust to return to the primordial realms. The Olympian Gods were not called Major gods as a small difference in power, it was an absolute insurmountable difference. That was what made Nemesis so much worse than any of the other minor gods. She acted as if she was their equal, believing wholeheartedly that she would eventually defeat the Olympians and claim "the proper state of things" as she liked to explain it. That her dominion over retribution would somehow circumvent the gap between their abilities. It was hilariously delusional. It was if everyone forgot the day that Goddess almost died, shattered into countless pieces when she attempted to usurp the king's throne. To make it even worse, Leto remembered the Goddess of retribution attacking Hestia, HESTIA of all deities, and was defeated soundly without Hestia raising a finger. The sheer weight of her divinity was enough to almost snuff Nemesis out entirely once more, her domains useless against the Olympian's might. No, attempting to rule in any other way than a monarchy was impossible for their kind. Power was the only answer they used…and Zeus had plenty. Has he changed while on the throne, indubitably. But Leto felt the flame of her attraction for him roar just as loudly as it always had.
Yet why was she not rushing through the pristine marble of Olympus to his side? Hera had zero qualms about their relationship, she cared little for the opinions of others when it came to her marriage, viewing it as a tool for her own power than for something like love. She would not fight for her marriage…but her image on the other hand? She would kill to maintain that, with a ruthlessness that made Zeus look like a tame lamb. So no, Hera was of no consequence. Despite this fact, Hera was the reason that Leto felt so adverse being with Zeus now. The one she was moving towards was not her lover…but his wife. She needed to know. The crimson hair and cool amber eyes still resonated with Leto, a heat to her cheeks at the sight of such a God still bringing a heat to her that she only felt from Zeus and Pallas, the titan of war. Hephaestus was powerful. There was no doubt that as…broken, as he was that he was Olympian in strength. But it was his core that made Leto yearn for him so. Gods normally hid their nature, thus far only one other lived with the core open…and that was Zeus. He cared little for what people saw and that honesty made her adore him.
Zeus was wild and free, a tempest that someone could hold and be swept away by. To him, she submitted. She smiled at the memories of their coupling. Domineering but charismatic, he was the perfect lover for when she wanted to be swept away.
Yet, there existed Pallas. Pallas was a different breed. Disciplined and devoted, the Titan of War never strayed from his lover Styx, the spirit of the river in the Underworld. She wanted that devotion, that obsessive and committed love. The thought of Pallas being her champion as he was Styx's made Leto almost swoon on the spot. Yet, no matter her advances, Pallas remained undeterred and unmoved. Was it worse that made her want him more? A toxic and addicting love that would never be. A love that she wanted to conquer and bask in.
But Hephaestus. He was fire and metal. Resolute, unbending, and wise beyond his years. Both calm and outrageous at the same time. She knew not how he was tempered the way that he was, nor how he felt so…worldly to her. He was stable and…kind. There was a gentleness to him that was absent from so many of their kind, if not non-existent. Yet, Hephaestus was a beast all his own. Dependable and disciplined as Pallas, wild and unmoving like Zeus. It was not the savage wild that Zeus embodied, and her daughter inherited. No, he was a more disciplined beast. If Atremis and Zeus were wild animals, then Hephaestus would be like a slumbering bear. Docile and uncaring of those around him to a point, but Leto could feel it. If pushed, Hephaestus was a killing machine with few equals. The call of steel that rung in his soul was a match for Ares pound per pound. It was like he was a God of war, but without the concept. Gods were such prideful creatures…and he had no pride whatsoever. He relentlessly honed his domains and skills without pause and yet still pursued his own ideals. Yes, Leto would admit her desire to have him. He was…a treat, a one-of-a-kind creature. Who knows what sort of result would occur from their coupling. Would he be good? Would a child be the result? Who knows. Hephaestus was a love she wanted to dominate, to have power over. Each of the three the only ones to make her feel like a fire raged within her. Each of them a pursuit she wouldn't stop, as was her nature.
Normally she wouldn't care who got in her way, but these thoughts were tainted by the idea that Hera was somehow his mother. She needed to know, for that alone would stay her hand. She had overstepped a lot with Hera. Leto…respected her. No, she loved her. But to love a woman in that way was…distasteful. Hera had little inclination to be that way, far as Leto could tell, and she would respect that. If Hera was Hephaestus' mother…she would respect that to. It was funny in a way, the wrath that Leto feared was not Zeus, but Hera.
One need not look further than Ares to understand why. The fires of war did not come from the King of the Gods, but rather from the absolute fury that Hera held within her. Zeus was callous and angry…but Hera was spiteful, cruel, and yet kind and motherly. A dichotomy that Leto respected and feared in equal measure. If Hephaestus truly was her son, that she would not tread on her grounds…though the forbidden nature of it simply made it sweeter. Thanks be to Chaos her children were finally old enough, Leto didn't need them staring at her when she tried to seduce Hephaestus if all went well. She made that mistake only once when Pallas was forced to attend to her in that dimension, a favor that she took from the river Styx. She smirked, remembering the chained spirit's inability to stop her from cashing that favor, chained forever more to her stupid river…though the smirk Styx shot her in response was aggravating. It was made even worse when Pallas rejected her fiercely and totally. Perhaps one day. The thrum of desire flowed through Leto…and she rushed even faster. The Gods did not practice rooms like humans do. Instead, Olympus was a series of connections that led to pathways to entire pocket dimensions forged by their respective gods. Ironically enough, nothing stopped the minor gods from doing the same thing as the Olympians, they just chose not to. It was even funnier when they complained about it. It was another sign of weakness, that they were incapable of producing their own reality. Hera's was as beautiful as she remembered. As Leto entered Hera's domain, she saw the artistic sway of her dimension, the way the flowers were arranged, the colors of the sky. It was like a painting brought to life in a cascade of swirling colors. Now that Leto thought about it…it was like Hephaestus, this artistic quality. She lacked her son's skills, but her artistic talent was in no way inferior to even her son. A "Natural" talent that existed outside the domains that Hera embodied. Hera herself stood tall, like a centerpiece in this art. She was not too dissimilar to a tanned Caucasian woman. Her form was broad, with powerful hips and wide shoulders. There was no mistaking the regality Hera embodied. Her brown hair flowed in a tight bind of curls, topped with a tiara made of celestial gold colored rich olive green. Her chiton wrapped around her like a flutter of wings, bearing patterns of the peacocks she was oh so fond of. When she turned to Leto, her smile grew faintly, a stern and regal expression on her face. She clasped her hands in front of her, a habit that humans seemed to mimic but never attached to her. Her eyes shone an illustrious gold. Years ago, Leto would have proclaimed that no gods mortal form would ever match the hue of Hera's eyes. None bore the golden irises that made Hera so unique. It shone like amber, a deep but cold like glint to them that bore right into you.
Eyes that were identical to the hawk like nature of Hephaestus. Leto almost faltered, staring into Hera's face. There were differences, no doubt of them, but the similarities they shared were too identical to not realize they were related. Apart, one would barely know…but put them side to side and…quite frankly it was eerie how much the two were similar. Their hair was different, so was their build, but the way they looked and acted was far too great to pretend they were not related. No matter what Hera said here…Leto knew the truth. Especially when the small shard in her possession, the crystallized essence of Hephaestus' divine power, glowed softly. Such occurrences were normal amongst the gods, shining crystals and strange magic doodads, so Hera paid it no mind. She walked forward and gracefully placed her hand on her friend's shoulder.
"You must be excited," she said, whispering with a smile, "the day you wanted has finally arrived. Is it everything you were hoping for?"
Hera snapped her fingers, and a nymph appeared. She bore ambrosia and nectar. Leto took the offering and the nymph promptly disappeared. Hera scowled a bit at the lingering essence the nymph left behind.
"It's a pain training the new hires. Honestly, you'd think they'd learn to stop leaving behind their ilk."
Leto smirked, agreeing completely. While Nymphs could be described as beautiful, they were ultimately just nature spirits. The earthen spirits were the most docile, in comparison, but had the nasty habit of "pollenating" their surroundings. It was irritating. Hera waved her hand and her divinity crushed every instance of the Nymph's presence. The nymph herself was unharmed, Hera not dabbling in the disgusting practices of her fellow Gods of…desecrating her followers. It must have been why the nymphs always clamored to work for her it seemed.
"The ceremony will begin shortly," assured Hera, "both Artemis and Apollo will be welcomed with open arms to Mount Olympus…though I doubt that is why you are here."
"No, it is not. Hera…I may ask a question that may irritate you. I request that you forgive me for any slight."
Hera bore into Leto, and for a moment a savagery equal to her son's echoed through the room. But like the queen she was, Hera crushed such emotions in her mental grip, maintaining the regal appearance of her station.
"Very well. You have always been a staunch ally. I owe you that much. I swear on the Styx."
The skys darkened as the power of Styx echoed through. Leto smiled, brittle as it was as Styx's "hand" flicked her. Aggravating bitch.
"We both know I owe you are more," said Leto, "I want you to know that I…that I love you. That I will always be your friend and ally…so…"
It hurt her to say it, but it she needed to know.
"….Hera…do you….did you…"