He was married to Beauty.

And yet the first time he saw her upon Olympus he did not gape, or blink rapidly, or even attempt to smooth his unkempt hair and tunic. His eyes may have lingered on her face for a moment before he'd had to force himself to look away. Like she was just another face in the (jeering) crowd. Albeit an unnaturally stunning face of perfection. Enough to have rivalled with one of his most complex of his automaton creations surely.

But then he saw her. The simply-clad woman sitting by the hearth.

He slowed to a stop, a blush taking to his dark skin as he met her flame-filled eyes which were offset by her slender face and soft features. He could only marvel at the sight of her. Her hair held the likeness of the flames beside her, her skin almost glowing while her lips curved into a smile.

He felt his heart thump against his ribs as he walked forward once more, never looking away from her. The goddess by the hearth… Hearth… Hestia – a Virgin goddess...

He remembered Dionysus talking about her. "She's kind," his curly haired brother (how that word had made him mentally recoil) had said, a quirky twitch of the lips, which could almost be called a smile, altering his sharp face. "Perhaps the kindest of them all. Exce…" There'd been a curious, almost contemplative look on Dionysus' face when he'd trailed off mid-word, lips pressed into a hard line.

Though he knew well that looks could be deceiving – and usually were – she did look genuinely welcoming. Her eyes gave him a warm feeling of comfort. Like she wouldn't let him fall. (Or even throw him off the damn mountain in the first place…)

Just like the woman standing by his mother's throne, who was smiling at him too in a friendly manner…Not quite true – she wasn't only smiling at him, she was smiling at them. Himself and Dionysus, who was walking beside him with a composed air about him and another blush flooding his perpetually red cheeks that others would think was due to alcohol. Or his 'overexertion' in walking around so much. He knew differently however…

The goddess' thick dark hair fell freely down her back, framing her slender face and large green eyes, contrasting with his mother's own narrow blue eyes and chocolate brown hair, which was pulled back into a tight braid.

He looked away from her impassively, and then back to the woman by her side, wondering if she was Demeter, Goddess of Agriculture. Dionysus had told him about her as well.

"Demeter." There'd been an odd tone to his breathless voice as he'd said the name of one of his stepmother's sisters before the Wine God had straightened his craned neck. "Don't wanna mess with her. You'd get seriously injured."

"So she-she's like my mother then?"

Dionysus' eyes, which had been wandering around his forge (something he had initially thought odd as the Wine God had finished browsing after seeing his inventions the very second he'd first set foot in there), snapped to his with alarming speed as his red cheeks flushed deeper in colour. "No. No. No! She is nothing like Hera." Then he'd taken a deep breath. "Nothing at all actually…" The redness that was spreading across his shapely face made the lean, young looking god look like he'd been burnt by the rays of Helios' chariot. His purplish eyes wandered around the forge once more, avoiding his heavily hooded ones.

Curious... "So…She's desirable then?"

Dionysus' head snapped towards him, eyes wide and… fearful? He didn't strike him as the sort who was scared and nervous about acknowledging his attraction towards a woman – a goddess.

Not just any goddess though, he'd mused. She was a sister of the three sons of Kronos. They'd make formidable enemies. Were they particularly protective of their sisters?

"Don't say that. Just – don't. You don't want them to – to hear you say that."

"Who?" He'd wondered why Dionysus had been looking so nervous.

The 'youth' opposite him glanced up to the roof of his underground forge. "Well, the earthshaker for one – don't say his name. I don't know what would happen even if you said it but names have power… and-"

Hephaestus tilted his head, mouthing, 'father.' Dionysus nodded, frowning sharply, turning his head away once more. He seemed to do that when he was nervous. Or maybe it'd just been their current topic that'd made him act so...so sober.

Then Dionysus had told him about all the Olympians and some minor gods. Well, not so much 'told' as 'insulted', he remembered with a grin. Apart from the four oldest children of Kronos, no god or goddess who Dionysus had met – and disliked – had been spared from his brother's sharp tongue and even sharper glare (to the walls of his forge, but still). Not their father and certainly not his mother Hera. "Don't tell anyone I said this but you did a good thing trapping her."

"I-I know. And I h-haven't even met – hic – met 'er. She really that bad?" He'd been with Dionysus so of course he'd been drunk.

"You have no idea… No really, you have no idea. Most of her.. reprimands are covered up – all mysterious-like, never any discriminating evi-truth. Ever wondered what really happened to my mother?"

That certainly had been an interesting tale. Who knew Hera was so cunning, so ruthless? He certainly hadn't – but that'd been remedied now.

Suggestions are once again welcome.