Bonus Content - Judgement

Hey everyone!

The first Wednesday of the month was certainly here fast! Fortunately, this is a scene I'd been thinking about doing for a while, so I went ahead and did it. Featuring Aphrodite, Hephaestus, and some background goings-on roughly during the period of political tension Hera mentions in Chapter Six. 

I hope you enjoy it.

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To the fairest.

Aphrodite crossed one leg over the other, leaning back against her chair and giving the apple a spin on her desktop. The golden flesh of it—a touch of ambrosia, of course—glinted in the sun streaming in through her window.

From the very start, it had been nothing more than a sham. The present Eris was nothing if not vindictive, and everyone knew it, and yet they’d all bought into her game so easily. Not because they didn’t see it for what it was, but because each of them had a reason to want a leg up on the others. It was never about fairest, and never about the mundane opinion of a mundane man. Rather, it had always been meant to prove a different superlative entirely.

Halting the spin with a finger, she cocked her head and waited. Sure enough, a moment later there was a knock. Firm, but not overly demanding. Smiling a bit to herself, she shook her head.

“You can come in.”

The door opened, and on the other side stood the familiar form of Hephaestus. She gestured to him, confirming her invitation—he always paused at the threshold, as if expecting her to revoke it once she’d properly laid eyes on him. Silly man.

The crutches fastened to his forearms made regular sounds of impact with her rug as he shuffled himself to the chair he preferred and settled down. Aphrodite was quite content to let him make himself comfortable before either of them spoke further; she had a feeling she knew what he was here about, in any event.

Once he’d detached the aids and leaned them against the chair next to him, Hephaestus cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to diminish your, uh, victory,” he said, dark brows furrowing. “But are you sure that was the best idea, my lady?”

There was really no need for him to refer to her with such reverence. He might not be the son of Zeus, but he was the son of Hera, after all. And perhaps the most honorable god on Olympus to her estimation. Not that Aphrodite generally considered honor to be worth much, here. But that was part of it, wasn’t it? If it were a practically-useful sort of thing, and sought for that reason, it would prove most elusive by its nature.

She blinked, slow and catlike, and lifted her shoulders. “To be honest, Hephaestus, I think it was a useful and well-executed idea. As for ‘good,’ well, I hardly know much about that, do I?”

Her smile was equal parts sardonic and sensual, and he cleared his throat with a certain charming awkwardness.

She did like how even when she flustered him, his fundamental character remained.

“Well, it’s just… Helen was married. Is married.”

She snorted softly. “Unhappily,” she amended, lifting a brow. “The two of them will get along so much more harmoniously. And they’ll be happy, besides. I could see it, you know. I wouldn’t have offered if it weren’t going to do the both of them good.”

His frown deepened slightly. “I… know you can see things about people that no one else can,” he admitted, chewing slowly over his words. One hand moved up to tug a bit at the thick brown curls atop his head. Nervous tic. “But… still. Did they really have the time to choose each other, and understand what that really meant? And what of her husband? He’s a king, after all, it could… end poorly, I think.”

She supposed he might not be wrong about that. “They haven’t had the time yet, no,” she replied simply. “But they will, and then they will choose one another. If they don’t, I’ll be the first one in line to spirit her away from him, that I assure you. As for what Menelaus will do… well, frankly, I don’t care all that much. The right thing to do doesn’t change because someone else of his own volition might react the wrong way, does it? He should wish her well if she’s happy and leave her alone.”

To her, that much was just obvious. Love was the most important force in the world, and the true villain was the one who sought to stand in its way. She had no issue opposing whomever she needed to to stick to that one principle. Good? She didn’t know. But it certainly felt right.

“I… well, when you put it that way it’s hard to disagree,” Hephaestus admitted, still frowning. “It’s just… he has a lot of power, you know. This is a matter of states as much as of people, which you know, I’m sure. I’m just worried that it will come to more than hurt feelings, and perhaps a—well, a gentler way of doing it might have helped. He loved her, didn’t he? Menelaus?”

Had he? Perhaps he had, for some covetous version of love. Aphrodite could see that, too. But that felt as wrong to her as what was blooming between Helen and Alexandros felt right.

“I’ll be honest. I don’t really care for his feelings on the matter. And as for what it will mean for states…” she shrugged. “How should I know? I don’t see the future outside of my one little gift. Even then it isn’t perfect. What else can I do but be me, and let the consequences come?”

“But on whom do they fall?” he asked, the question as sincere as it was immediately more difficult.

Aphrodite pressed her lips together. “You know… sometimes I think I’d like you better if you just congratulated me on a job well done like everyone else,” she complained, shooting him an aside glance through narrowed, dark eyes.

But the sky-blue of Hephaestus’s met them without a trace of either chagrin or remonstrance. “I… don’t think so, my lady,” he said. “I think if I did that, you wouldn’t value my thoughts any. It’s not pleasant to be challenged, but I think you know everyone needs to be, sometimes.”

Perhaps she did.

And perhaps this time, she had made a mistake.

For the moment, all she could do was wait and see.