smiled to herself as she made her way to the palette of black cowhides on the floor, piled with blood red silk pillows. They were a small showing of sacrifices to Aphrodite out of the hundreds of thousands she had received in her hey-day.
She could never throw anything away and loved to come into her hidden rooms to remember. Only two others knew her little secret.
Perry knew, since she knew everything about Dita, and didn’t think it was a big deal. If it doesn’t have dust on it, you’re not a hoarder , she’d say. And of course Heff knew, but he would never tell anyone.
She lay down on the pillows and propped her head on her hand as she ran her eyes over her things, coming to rest on Hephaestus as he worked. Heff had always been there for her, even when she was cruel to him. It wasn’t his fault that he had been tapped to marry her, but that hadn’t stopped her from taking it out on him.
Dita didn’t believe in marriage. She was all about the present. Things that required long-term responsibility, like marriage and motherhood, didn’t interest her.
But Zeus thought he knew better and policed all of them as he saw fit. His word was law, and his decisions were never up for discussion. So when the in-fighting over Dita became a problem, Zeus forced her to marry Hephaestus, and it was something she never forgave either god for.
Aphrodite tightened the last strap on her high, leather sandals and stood. She smoothed a hand over her sky blue robes and stepped before the looking glass, her gold-lined silk train dragging behind her. She reached for a crown of blush roses on the stand beside the glass and placed it in her golden hair.
Ares had been fighting with Hermes over her again, and that time Ares succeeded in provoking a true fight. Fists and blood flew by the time Zeus intervened, and he had not been happy.
Neither had Aphrodite. She was not a toy, not a thing they could fight over, not an object, though every god only thought of her as such.
Well, there is one , she thought as she pushed her long hair behind her shoulder. Hephaestus was one of the only gods who didn’t treat her so, which was a comfort, though they spoke little. There were times when she believed men could only behave as small children, bickering and fighting over things that they believed they owned, though they had no rights at all. But Hephaestus always renewed her faith that perhaps some men were more evolved than the masses.
She hadn’t allowed Ares into her bed since, though that state was temporary, as it always was.
Aphrodite sighed and left her chambers, making her way through the wide halls into the throne room. A soft breeze blew through the open space, the deep, blue sea sparkling in the distance past the marble columns, and cypress trees swayed, tall and slender all around. She was the last to arrive that day, and all of the Olympians had already taken their thrones. Zeus sat in the tallest throne in the center of the room with his fist propped under his chin, his mouth bent in a frown as he stared off at nothing.
Something is amiss , she realized as she looked around the room. All eyes were on her, and a few gods whispered to each other. Ares’ eyes were dark, his jaw set, and Hera looked pleased, which was a bad omen. Her eyes found Hephaestus’, blue and bright in his tan face, and her heart jumped when she realized his expression was one of apology.
Zeus straightened up. “Aphrodite,” he called, his voice echoing in the expansive, marble space.
She walked to Zeus, lifted her chin, and braced herself.
He looked down at her with stern eyes. “As you know, we all grow weary of the hostility between the gods over you. It seems that only a few are immune to your charms, though the ones who are not have caused enough problems for the lot.”
“I am as vexed by the fact as you are, Zeus.”
“I very much doubt that. It cannot continue, and so I have decided that you will marry.”
The gods murmured