In what was perhaps a cruel twist of fate, the maiden he was destined to spend the rest of his life with, was in love with another. They were in love.
And to make matters worse, it was the husband of his own ex-lover. A cruel twist of fate indeed.
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Hephaestus was having a dandy time of it; his wife was never around, and his Corinna was as comfortable in his home as it was his own. She'd begun planting in the gardens, growing flowers, fruits, vegetables, and all manner of things.
Her imprint on the house was everywhere, from the clothes that lay on the floor in his room before they went to bed at night to the vases of flowers (her own, he might add) that sat in the very vase she'd insisted on making. The water was changed bi-weekly, and the flowers every fortnight. He couldn't stand the smell of them. The gardenias, the peonies, even the carnations were strong-smelling flowers that wafted around the room as he worked, but he'd snuck a peek in the little flower book she kept on her bedside, and once he'd understood the meaning behind them, he couldn't bring himself to throw them away. He cherished it all despite the fact that she was as good a ceramicist as she was a cook.
The vase she kept them in was god awful, but he'd seen all the time she'd put it into it. She'd sat in his workshop reading the books he'd gotten her on pottery making, he'd made her the equipment she needed, and when she gifted it to him, he'd marvelled at all the hours of work she'd put in, working beside him till all hours of the morning. He could even see the fingerprints she'd left on it as she'd put it over his kiln. He'd held it especially dearer to him when she'd proclaimed to be no good at it, and that the vase should be the first and last thing she would make.
He'd even planned to take her back down to the mortal planes to see a play that very night. Perhaps that was why he found himself so displeased to find a letter from Ares sitting on his worktable demanding his new sword be brought to him, lest he came over to get it himself, and he certainly didn't want that. Having Ares in the home, Corrine had spent hours making it into their own little paradise would just ruin it. He'd always found himself to be rather uncomfortable in his home, everywhere but his workshop. His wife had left her imprint on every part of the house, and he hated it; every thought, every piece of furniture could only remind him of the wife he didn't like and the lovers she brought home. He would not have the comfortable utopia they'd made ruined.
That was why he stood at the foot of Ares's own home, sword in hand and wrapped in leather so early in the morning. This was going to be a lengthy and sombre affair, and his Corrine was already rather excited, spending every waking moment since they'd risen in the morn trying to decide on the perfect dress, shoes and even the matching jewellery. She wanted to look perfect, and he would be dammed if it were all for nothing.
And so, with a deep breath in, he pushed open the door to find the unwelcome and yet unsurprising view of Ares, once again fucking his wife on the stairwell. As though they were waiting for him to come in, why he wasn't quite sure. To make him jealous perhaps, or perhaps to simply show he had something that Hephaestus didn't. The salty smell permeating the room reminding them all of his prize. He had always been like that, snatching the toys they'd all marvelled at in the playroom for himself, even if he hadn't perhaps wanted it. Taking it to sit in his bedroom. To look but not to touch.
There he was, proudly showing off the prized toy he'd had the pleasure of snatching out of his hands the very night of his wedding. It wasn't the lack of consummation that had bothered him so much, but that by no means meant that he wasn't horrified. It was watching the man he hated more than anyone in the world, who had taken and taken from him, take one more thing.
But Corrina was a sweet girl who didn't have much, but what she did have, she liked to give. To him and he, he had a lot. Hephaestus had a lot to give, and he liked to give it. He was a giver. He liked to give to his wife before he found her nestled up with a floozy in his, no their bed. Now he'd found a girl, no a woman who he liked, and she liked him back. He'd be damned if he didn't get to keep her. He was sure he'd go to the ends of the earth to do it. The cost would never be too great.
He'd thrown the sword to the floor with little care for the hours he'd put in, the clanging of the metal drawing the pair's attention from their sexual endeavours, both sporting a cocky grin but still neither stopped their fucking. Aphrodite's moans were still excessively loud, and Ares still let out grunt after grunt as he fucked her silly.
"Do you want your sword or not?" He had sneered, and only his words finally managed to get Ares to stand up, ignoring Aphrodite's irritated huffs to pick up the sword from the floor, naked as the day he was born and ignoring the leather wrap that lay beside it.
"It's good," he had muttered, bringing it closer to his face to inspect the artwork that sat on the blade. "You must have taken a lot of time on it. I feel so special." He mocked with a grin.
"It didn't take long" Haphaesus rolled his eyes, almost wanting to do it twice as he caught sight of his wife from the corner of his eye, lounging on the marble steps, a freshly lit cigarette in her mouth as she watched her husband and mistress battle it out.
And then he said something rather peculiar. "It smells different from the usual ones; what's that smell?"
Hephaestus watched him smell the very spot Corrina had cut herself on not two hours earlier with uneasy eyes. "What do you mean?" He wasn't liking the look of this. He wasn't liking this at all.
"It's sweet...like honey."
"Perhaps it's the smell of his new paramour...they're always together." Aphrodite grinned, offering her husband a cheeky grin. She'd known very well that he had wanted to keep her his secret. Not to share her with any of them; they were all...dirty and cruel, and she was the opposite. He couldn't have the fresh and innocent Corrina corrupted. And his own wife had now offered her up to them all on a silver platter.
It took him a while to answer to figure out what to say without drawing too much intruige. He knew within the hour, the whole of Olympus would know of her, want to meet her... want to have her. And he wouldn't have it. He'd let war ensue before they did. "Corrina cut herself on the blade when she was looking at it. I'm sure it won't affect its use."
"I'm sure it won't", Ares muttered, never taking his eyes from the blade.
"Well, if you're satisfied... I'll take my leave, and with that, he strode from the door, not even bothering to look back. He still had to get ready, and he wanted to look his best for her. They have a play to see, was his only thought, exiting with a smile. Not even bothering to see the curious smile that followed him nor the flared nostrils of his wife.
