The large spruce wood door creaked in protest as Hephaestus shouldered his way into his silent home. Dragging his feet, his ever present limp was made only more prominent in his exhausted state. Depositing his gloves and heavy boots on the table by the door, he raked a hand over his face, trudging up the marble steps. If he were to be one hundred percent honest, he detested the interior of their palace, but Aphrodite was so fond of polished stone that he didn't have the heart to change a single inch of the place. The dark hallways guided the blacksmith to the room hidden in their depths. His room was covered in scattered projects, some new and some old. Blue prints and designs lie crumpled in random places; on his nightstand, on the small desk in the far corner. Some were even tucked under his pillow and blankets. His nightstand also held a small lamp and a single framed photo. The picture was taken many many years ago and contained the beautiful Aphrodite, holding her son Eros for the first time. It was the Forge god's most precious possession.