"I'm sorry Hephaestus, I've got plans for tonight." Aphrodite said without a trace of actual remorse in her words. The council looked bored. This was nothing new. Aphrodite stood, her high heels clacking on the cold marble floor of Olympus. Ares was nowhere in sight.

There was no doubt about this—she's got plans with the war god.

Hephaestus slinked back into the shadows, leaving the council with an accusing look at Hera, who shot him a sympathetic look. He didn't know what he expected. A miraculous 'yes' from Aphrodite? He nearly snorted. He has been humiliated, put down, and rejected too many times in front of the entire council. Bitterness and frustration welled up in him. Just what would it take for Aphrodite to notice him?

Contrary to popular belief, he was nowhere as ugly as the myths make him out to be. Apollo healed his handicap at the request of Hera herself, finally feeling the regret for her actions. It didn't make Hephaestus like her any better. He just didn't outright hate her anymore. She was no more his mother than she had been when she threw him off Olympus without batting an eyelash. Anyway, he no longer limped everywhere, nor did he have any pains, which was good.

He walked into one of his forges under a volcano, ridding himself of his shirt in the process. It was damn hot in here, hotter than Hades' hellfire if he says so himself. Sweat soon began to bead on his face, arms, and back as he laboured over the new weapon and jewellery Ares wanted. Absently, he wondered what Aphrodite saw in that blasted war god. Was it the bad boy persona? Did he have to lather up in leather and metal studs, riding a 'badass' motorcycle to attract her attention? He didn't understand what she saw in him. All Ares wanted was bloodshed, war, more bloodshed, and gruesome mementos on his walls, as trophies and spoils of war. Aphrodite didn't need to know how many times Ares asked him to repair his motorcycle, how many times he asked Hephaestus to make her new jewellery, or weapons to show off with, or even threatened him to stay away from his 'girlfriend'. Hephaestus was not a god of conflict. He did not lash out at Ares, even if he really wanted to tell that jerk in his face, that Aphrodite was his wife, and he could do nothing about it, since the marriage was announced by Hera herself.

Hephaestus looked at his wedding ring. It was a plain band of celestial silver embedded with a fiery ruby. It still hasn't tarnished after the eons spent being weathered on his finger. Then again, he himself mined and forged everything, so he would not expect any less from the products. He remembered handing Aphrodite a silver one as well, decorated all over with glittering emeralds, peridots, sapphires, and aquamarine crystals, coming straight from Hades' finest stocks in the Underworld. After all, anything less than that would not be befitting of a goddess, especially the goddess of beauty.

He remembered giving it to her, and her stinging words, striking blows on his pride and hurting his feelings immensely. She had asked him why he only gave her a celestial silver ring, when she wanted something better, like gold, platinum, or white gold. It's alright, though. She also didn't have to know that Ares had come to him wanting to outshine him by asking him to make a ring for Aphrodite, made of platinum, strengthened with titanium, plated with gold, having white gold decorations and diamonds studded on top, surrounding the aquamarine that reminded Hephaestus so much of Aphrodite's eyes. It had been one of Hephaestus' best creations, one of the most delicate, most beautiful. He had resented, and still resents Ares for taking that privilege away from him, the privilege to give one's wife the best anyone could offer. Of course, the demure silver ring he had given instead was now no doubt tossed somewhere inside her jewellery box, forgotten along with the thousands of mini masterpieces he had forged for her carefully...with love hammered into every bit of metal, and carved into every facet of every jewel.

He didn't envy Ares. The emotion he had about this whole old and still ongoing affair was more...a sort of a resigned feeling. He knew he could do nothing about it until Aphrodite came to her senses and decides to truly discover what love really means. He was, in fact, also very amused by Ares' smug attitude every time he saw Hephaestus. It was laughable, the certain naivety Ares still retained. He thinks Aphrodite loves him. Does she really? Hephaestus doubts she even knows what true love means. If she did, Hephaestus' marriage with her would have worked out a long time ago. Why he was sure of this? The only reason was because he has never doubted the love he had for her, not even once, and he knew this was love in its purest form.

He put his hammer down and smiled to himself. Being a god has its perks. He could be lost in deep thought and still create something worthwhile. Ares will have to make do with this, but personally he thought it wasn't a bad creation. He dipped the blade in a cool tank of water and watched it hiss and steam. The gleaming silver metal dripped, shining with perfection as he lifted it out of the water by its incomplete grip. Finding a piece of cowhide, he shaped it with deft hands and a knife into a long, thin strip that he wound around the grip. Finally, he set a piece of obsidian in the pommel; fitting it in and hearing it click with much satisfaction. Then he spent ten minutes sharpening the edges of the blades, grinning when he ran it across his palm and ichor flowed out in a thin line. Of course it healed immediately, and he wiped the blade. He placed this with the finished jewellery, which was already in a dark blue velvet box. He had already decided to make a scabbard for the double-edged broadsword, and the scabbard was made of Stygian iron, a metal found at the banks of the river Styx that flows in the Underworld. Lines of molten, now hardened silver ran through the simple scabbard, giving it a much more complex look when in fact it was one of the simplest things Hephaestus has ever made, really. The design was completed by silver and titanium alloy chains that had a piece of unbreakable leather tied to it, as a strap of sorts.

He slid the sword into the scabbard, and it fit seamlessly, going in smoothly, until only the guard, the grip and pommel are in sight. He slung it over his shoulder because it was one of the weapons Ares wanted to pull from his back, as, apparently, 'pulling a sword that hangs from one's waist is too common and old fashioned'. Hephaestus really didn't understand the god of war, but he supposed it came with the 'job description', so to speak. He grabbed the box on his way out.

Halfway to his destination, which was Aphrodite's palace, he realised he didn't have his shirt on. So that's why the godlings and nymphs were giving him strange looks. He didn't exactly realise it until he looked down. How? He doesn't even know, probably because he was so lost in thought. Anyhow, it was too late to go back and change, and his palace was on the other side of Olympus.

He approached the pure white Corinthian columns that held up the front entrance of Aphrodite's palace. The sweet smell of perfume was thick in the dull afternoon air, and it made Hephaestus dizzy.

Walking up to the grand ivory doors, he raised the heavy gold knocker. Just as he was about to let it crash into the door, he heard a moan coming from inside. He paused, letting the knocker falls gently. It thudded into the door with a dull sound. The palace went quiet. Hurried footsteps could be heard.

The doors were flung open, revealing a breathless and flushed Aphrodite, with only the barest strip of translucent pearl pink silk draped over her flawless body, which was glistening with perspiration, not unlike Hephaestus' own, but they both knew the activities leading to their states were very different.

"Hephaestus!" She said, surprised. He smiled blandly.

"May I?" He asked for permission. She opened the door reluctantly, and he walked in.

"Ares!" He called. The lumbering war god came down without a shirt and clad in boxers. It doesn't take Athena to figure out what those two were doing. Trying his best to hide a grimace, he handed Ares the sword and the ring.

Ares growled, but accepted the items. Aphrodite looked at the blue velvet box curiously.

"What did I tell you about giving these to me now?" Ares demanded. Hephaestus hid a smirk.

"It's your own fault that I found you here." He commented nonchalantly. "Now the cat's out of the bag…" He trailed off. Ares unsheathed the sword and lunged toward Hephaestus, piercing him in his abdomen. Hephaestus gasped, eyes widening, and he crumpled onto a table, clutching it for support as Ares drew the weapon out.

"A fine creation." Ares leered. Hephaestus hissed in pain as his wound started to heal, but Ares smiled maliciously, and a red aura surrounded the blade and Hephaestus' wound. Hephaestus roared in pain when his wound started to burn. He collapsed to the floor and gripped it tightly, his ichor gushing out of the gaps in his hands.

Aphrodite screamed.

"ARES! WHAT THE HADES!" She shrieked. Ares dropped the weapon, bloodlust fading from his eyes. He realised the grave error he made by hurting Hephaestus in front of Aphrodite.

"Hon, I…" He started, but Aphrodite socked him across the face with surprising strength and followed it up with an uppercut, twisting his neck so hard there was an audible crack. Ares grunted in pain.

"GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY PLACE AND NEVER COME BACK! AND LEAVE THE SWORD AND THE BOX!" Aphrodite screeched. Ares gave her a look and scrambled out.

"Oh, Hep!" Aphrodite whispered, sinking to her knees in front of her wounded husband. She took a deep breath.

"APOLLO!"

The cheerful sun god was at her door in a flash, light yellow hair, golden eyes, blinding smile and all.

"You called?" He smiled. Aphrodite glared at him, and he saw the god of the forges on the floor. His smile slid from his face and a serious expression replaced it. He knelt, placing his hands over the wound and muttered something. A golden glow lit up the room, and Hephaestus' breathing became less laboured. He seemed to be asleep. Apollo nodded to himself.

"Let him rest. Take him upstairs. He should be okay if you give him a few days." He said.

"Thank you." Aphrodite breathed, nodding at her half-brother. Apollo smiled.

"No problem. While you're at it…do you need Hermes and I to recruit the help of a few others to avenge Hephaestus?" He said slyly. Aphrodite grinned.

"If you will."

"Very well." Apollo laughed. "See you guys later!" He flashed out. Aphrodite smiled down at her husband regretfully.

"I promise I'll make it up to you, Hep." She murmured, taking him by the hand and transporting them into her bedroom. She lifted him with a bit of her innate magic and he sunk down on her comfortable bed. She sat by him and took his hand as she waited for him to wake.

"Say…his body does look delicious…" She mused.

IGNORE ME I'M JUST A LINE BREAK

Hephaestus smiled at his wife, who was embroidering a dark red chiton for him—yes, quite a shock, isn't it? She had consulted Athena and the wise goddess taught Aphrodite how to sew and make clothes, and now it was a favourite pastime of Aphrodite's. She enjoyed creating beautiful things, and Hephaestus thought they belonged together now more than ever. He liked to work with metal, and she likes to work with cloth.

Aphrodite looked up and smiled at him tentatively, and he chuckled knowingly, making her blush. Her hands hurried on with her work, and Hephaestus let his gaze linger.

Their love was fragile and dull for now, and it wasn't much, but it was something. As long as Hephaestus has this foundation of this something, he could make it work. He could use this bond they're forming right now to make something even better. He could certainly work with this new development like he works with his precious metals. Bit by bit- he would not rush things. 'Items' like this had to be treated very carefully, and it takes a long time for even the tiniest hint of success, but Hephaestus knew...he knew that by the time he was finished with this, it would turn out to the most gorgeous piece of work out of all of his inventions and creations throughout the millennia he existed. It would outshine every masterpiece he has ever created, and will remain at the top.

It was their love, just Hep and Dite. Forever.