Hephaestus groaned as he saw the reflection of his wife on a shield propped up against the wall. He had been moving the mess of armor and battle gear in his room that had built up over the decades. He liked to create his own innovations, sure, but he also took great pleasure in replicating what the mortals made and in consequence, making it better. Since he had taken over the care of Olympus, he hadn't spent too much time relaxing in his room. Instead, it was now filled with replicas, creations and creatures from two thousand years. His bed towered over the room in an extendable, rising platform that seemed to move for him to make his life easier. Pushing both his hands against a canon, it toppled over to the side and a golden ball rolled out. It slammed against a foot of the bed – that jumped to the side – and rolled to the feet of Aphrodite. She briefly looked down at the ball, tapping it with her toe before stepping in with a playful sigh.

"I thought you would have created something to organize this by now," she tried to tease though he was refusing to turn a face him. Lifting a hand to tap her lip, she quickly tried to assess the situation and handle it best. When he turned around a large column and seemed to disappear, she frowned as she placed the same hand on her hip and leaned against a desk full of blueprints. "I missed you."

"Hah!" he shouted from behind the mountain of inventions and though she couldn't see it, he was shaking his head.

"I did!" she snapped defensively as her frown grew.

"It seems you had plenty of beds to keep you warm in the meantime," he grumbled semi-loudly, obviously meant for her to here but not as loud to seem proud of the statement. Most times he attempted to call her out or point out her sexual exploits, the joke was turned on him so he had begun to quietly hate it instead. He pushed a wooden piece of a trebuchet closer to the wall, exposing himself to her once again. In the corner of his eye, he could see she had turned her face away. "Oh don't pretend, my dear. It makes this more difficult."

Her eyes flashed a familiar anger and she stepped towards him daringly, lifting her finger to shake at him. "How dare you! I have always loved you –"

"NEVER!" he burst into a loud roar, tossing aside several weapons that slammed against the walls and he finally faced her. She didn't flinched, as her anger was overriding any fear that might've come from this explosion and she simply faced him. "You have NEVER loved me! You should have married Ares and have been done with it!"

"I shouldn't have married anyone!" she shouted back as she placed a hand on her chest, then pointed to him. "But I was used as a bartering tool so you would release your mother!"

"And?" he snapped back immediately, his demeanor suggesting he saw no problem with her statement.

Sighing as she brought a hand to her face, she counted to ten to regain her composure over the situation. Thankfully since she didn't respond, Hephaestus had calmed down enough to simply stand there and look at the woman he had imagined returning for years. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as he watched her, wishing she would shout as he did so he knew what she was thinking. It was the most difficult part of their relationship, in his view: she wasn't as blunt as Athena or as open about her emotions as Demeter. It was as if she wanted him to guess her emotions or feelings constantly, something Hephaestus was not good at nor intended to do. Finally, she looked up to him with a small smile as she stepped closer to him, enough to extend her hand and place it on his cheek. He closed his eyes, letting himself feel her soft skin and soothing, warm touch.

"You are much more like your mother than you'll ever admit," she said softly, causing her husband to open his eyes to glare at her. His overly large and rough hands reached up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand off his face and slightly pushing her away from him.

"Don't compare me to her," he growled lowly.

"You confuse love with marriage," Aphrodite boldly continued as she was not bothered by his looks. "You think marrying someone means they love you or that marriage is proof of that love – much like she does. Neither of you have ever understood that the two are completely separate. You can't force love. It can be cruel, warm, unpredictable, difficult or easy … but never forced."

His dark, coal like eyes seemed to soften from their state of hatred and instead grew remotely sad. Letting in a small amount of air between his lips, he nodded slightly. "Okay."

But Aphrodite blinked in confusion. Her face faltered as she felt exactly what was happening to him and she smiled widely, laughing a little as she moved forward and wrapped her arms around her large and awkward husband. Laying her head on his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around her in return, holding her for what he assumed was the last time.

"Do you want to know why I love you?" she quietly asked, staring straight ahead as she continued to lean against him. Not waiting for his response, she continued, "You have created inventions, tools and weapons in place of friends. You make workers, worshippers, parents, children … but you never will make a replacement for me. You know that no matter how skilled you are, there is no amount of iron, steel or wood to replace me."

"How –" he started to ask, his demeanor completely melting away as he felt utterly exposed in this rare moment. His eyebrows rose high above his head and his eyes worried, wondering what else she had known this entire time. She giggled loudly, lifting her hand up to his lips and shook her head.

"Of course I would know that!" she continued her laugh and stood back from him, her smile slightly condescending. Hephaestus nervously glanced to the side, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his head. Reaching her hands out to grab one of his, she stroked the top of his head (the softest part, if you could call it soft) with her thumbs. "I do love you, Hephaestus."

"And every other god here," he growled quietly, though he kept his eyes off of her. It was too easy to fall for her and say everything was fine when looking at her beautiful face. His mouth twisted to the side, as if he had been tormented into asking his next question, "How many?"

She squinted her pale green eyes for a moment, looking at him for a clue as to what he meant. When she didn't respond, he glanced to her and sneered. "How many children?"

"Oh," she slipped out before she could think. "That doesn't matter –"

"Of course it matters!" he exploded again, his hand being pulled from hers and his arms going up into the air. Used to these conversations and the manner in which he dealt with it, she simply backed up and left him space. Slamming his hand on a large crate, he pointed to her. "You say that marriage isn't any proof but what about children? You have had them with everyone but me!"

Finally Hephaestus seemed to have struck a cord with his wife, catching her in a moment where she wasn't prepared. Her eyes widened and she had quietly gasped, as if this was news to her. Lifting her hand to her mouth, she tried to leave herself some time to think before responding. Her eyes averted from him to the ground and she raced for an excuse – she wasn't ready to admit she was selfish enough to not want children with him. She might find love and beauty in everything, but when it came to her own children, seeing his face scared her. Her vanity would never let the goddess of love and beauty to have ugly children. He huffed loudly, acknowledging that he had "won" in some sense, but her silence made him uncomfortable. Staring at her, Hephaestus suddenly felt overwhelmingly guilty when he noticed she was crying.

"Uhh," he started in surprise, lifting his hands out towards her to attempt to make her feel better. She pulled back immediately to the door and wiped her eyes, only to turn and run after slipping out, "I'm sorry."

The blacksmith god was left in his messy room, standing and staring at what was an empty doorway. He blinked a few times, confused as his guilt slowly melted away and he realized that he had caved within seconds. Looking around, he pushed over the closest thing to him while muttering to himself, "How does she do that?"

Author's Note: This is one of my favorite chapters so far. I hope you enjoyed it.