Chapter 36: Hephaestus (3)
“You work in a place like this? It’s barely clean. Even for a god, this environment is hardly ideal,” Hera said, her tone calm but pointed.
“Mother…”
The visitor was none other than Hera, queen of the gods and Hephaestus’ mother.
With a casual wave of her hand, Hera used magic to ventilate the workshop and conjured a seat, settling into it with ease.
She gestured for Hephaestus to join her, acting more like the master of the forge than he did.
“Sit down.”
“…”
“I said sit. It’s not strange for a parent to visit their child’s workplace, is it?”
Hephaestus felt uneasy and flustered by Hera’s sudden visit.
Still, he couldn’t exactly throw out his own mother, so he ordered an automaton to bring tea and sat across from her.
Whirr, clank! Whirr, clank!
The sound of the automaton moving filled the air as a heavy silence settled between Hera and Hephaestus.
After a long pause, Hera broke the quiet.
“So, those are the famous automatons of Hephaestus. Their reputation has even reached Olympus.”
“…Yes.”
“Hmm. I hear such creations are common in the underwater cities. No plans to bring them to Olympus?”
“It… just hasn’t happened.”
“I see…”
Another awkward silence enveloped them.
Just as it grew unbearable, the automaton returned with tea, placing it before Hera and Hephaestus.
Seizing the moment, Hephaestus spoke up.
“Why are you here all of a sudden? You’ve never come before.”
He winced internally, realizing his tone had come out sharper than intended.
The Cyclopes, secretly eavesdropping on the mother-son exchange, flinched and whispered among themselves.
“We’re done for. Hera won’t tolerate that.”
“Ugh, is Hephaestus about to get thrashed?”
“Calm down, nothing’s happened yet.”
Even Hephaestus braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut.
Click.
The soft sound of Hera setting down her teacup was followed by her gentle voice.
“As I said earlier, there’s no rule against a mother visiting her son’s workplace. Besides, I’ve always felt guilty about you… I just wanted to see your face.”
Hephaestus’ eyes widened in disbelief, and the Cyclopes, equally stunned, accidentally dropped their hammers.
Clang!
“Ack!”
“Shut up, we’ll get caught!”
“It’s not my fault! That fake Hera’s to blame!”
“Quiet, you idiot!”
“I’m not an idiot! Poseidon says the one calling someone an idiot is the real idiot!”
Amid the Cyclopes’ chaotic muttering, Hephaestus regained his composure, his initial shock subsiding.
“Must those three bumbling fools stay here?” Hera asked, eyeing the Cyclopes.
“Haha, but they’re my masters, who looked after me alongside Lord Poseidon,” Hephaestus replied with a grin.
Hera, seeing Hephaestus’ genuine fondness for the Cyclopes, fell silent.
No matter the reason, she had essentially abandoned her son.
“If you say so…”
Now fully composed, Hephaestus smiled and pressed Hera.
The queen of the gods wouldn’t visit just to see her son’s face.
“So, what’s the real reason you came?”
Hera sighed. “I came to ask you to return to Olympus.”
“What?”
“Those who harmed you have been dealt with by me and Zeus. It took time because Enyo, Ares’ attendant, and her cockroach-like allies were deeply entrenched, but it’s safe now.”
“…”
“So come back to Olympus and work as a blacksmith there. We’ll clear up any misunderstandings about you.”
Hephaestus wavered for a moment but asked calmly,
“What about Ares? He made me a cripple. Since I’m under Poseidon’s protection, he can’t attack me directly, but he’s spread vile rumors and slander about me. What about him?”
“Ares was heavily punished for his actions against Poseidon, and since his crimes were committed as a young god, he’s been forgiven. So come back, take your place as a blacksmith, and claim a seat among the Twelve Olympians.”
Hera’s words ignited a fury in Hephaestus that surged to his core.
The rage was so intense it drowned out his senses, his inner flames flaring uncontrollably, melting the tools and furnishings in the forge.
“So… I’m supposed to live as a cripple forever, called a mad blacksmith by mortals and nymphs alike?”
“If you become one of the Twelve Olympians, that will naturally resolve itself. Zeus and I will ensure you take a seat among them.”
Hephaestus could no longer contain himself at his mother’s apparent defense of Ares.
Years of resentment, anger, bitterness, and a sliver of hope burst like a dam breaking.
“Damn it… I was a fool to ever miss a mother like you. How could an ugly, crippled god like me come from someone as noble as you? The Twelve Olympians? Shove that seat to the dogs!”
“…”
“Get out! I’m such a fool for not raising my weapon against someone like you, who I still call my mother. This is the last time I’ll treat you like a parent—leave now!”
Hera, unfazed by Hephaestus’ explosive flames and erupting lava, stood calmly and left his forge with a final remark.
“Think it over carefully. This is an opportunity that won’t come again.”
She signaled to the Cyclopes, who were anxiously watching from a distance, and exited.
As the door closed behind her, Hephaestus’ anguished scream echoed through the forge.
“AAAAAHHHH!”
Hera stood outside, listening to his cries until they subsided.
When she finally moved to leave, a wave of blue energy appeared.
“Well, now you’re even hated by your own child,” Poseidon said.
“Poseidon, always so cheeky with your sister,” Hera retorted.
“Wounding your own son like that as a parent.”
“I’m a queen before I’m a mother.”
“You should’ve punished Ares ages ago.”
“Ares and Hephaestus are both heirs to Zeus and me. Besides, Ares still has many supporters. You know how many nymphs and mortal races worship him. Didn’t you see the insult he hurled at you?”
Poseidon sighed, then scooped Hera up in a flash.
“Up you go!”
“What’s this? Now you’re after another man’s woman, like Zeus?”
“Oh, come on, aren’t you and Zeus in a strategic alliance?”
“Hmph, as if I, Hera, would fall for your charms.”
“Fine, fine. It’s just the way of the world for a weakened goddess to be whisked away.”
“Hmph.”
Poseidon glanced at Hera, who had taken Hephaestus’ flames head-on without resistance.
Her body was covered in burns and blisters from the ordeal.
Sighing again, he shielded her with his power and carried her as they walked.
“This reminds me of Kronos’ belly. Back then, didn’t you break your leg kicking me carelessly?”
“Bringing up ancient history? And it was your brutish body that was the problem. Who breaks a magically reinforced limb with sheer strength?”
“Hahaha, that’s me, Poseidon!”
Blocking the lingering waves of Hephaestus’ fury with his power, Poseidon carried Hera, chatting fondly as they had in the days when she collapsed from exhaustion in Kronos’ belly.
“You’re going to get yourself in trouble with your kids one day,” he warned.
“I’ll bear it. I’m the queen of the gods, after all.”
“Always acting superior.”
“You’re one to talk. Do you know how many buildings your daughter Charybdis has smashed in Olympus?”
“Come on, my daughter’s adorable.”
“Hmph! My kids are just as lovable. And as I’ve said, a king’s children should have the strength to challenge their parents.”
“Yeah, sure, getting stabbed by your own kids sounds delightful.”
***
After Hera’s departure, Hephaestus calmed down with the Cyclopes’ help.
“Ptah, drink this and relax. Hera didn’t have a choice,” one said.
“Bronte, you idiot, you forgot your own apprentice’s name!”
“Ugh, Hephaestus, don’t take it too hard. Bronte’s just like that sometimes!”
“Those desert tribes call Hephaestus ‘Ptah,’ you fools!”
“Tch, Brontes’ the fool, thinking those tribes don’t know a god’s name.”
“You brats, talking back to me!”
“Come at me, Bronte! I’ll show you a god’s power!”
The Cyclopes’ bickering, meant to console Hephaestus, was so comical it actually helped him regain his composure.
Bang! Clang! Thud!
Their usual antics—swinging tools and fighting—brought Hephaestus back to his senses.
He steeled his resolve, devising a plan to shock both Hera and Ares.
“Masters, stop and help me. I have a great idea.”
Whack!
Bronte, nursing a black eye from Steropes’ blow, rolled on the ground and asked, “What’s this great idea?”
Crash!
Arges, sent flying by Steropes’ imitation of Poseidon’s trident, hit the floor and groaned,
“Name any tool, and I, Arges, will craft it!”
Roar!
Steropes, triumphant over his brothers, was about to let out a victory roar when they ambushed and pinned him down. “UOOOOH!”
Watching the three, Hephaestus laughed, picked up his hammer, and stoked the forge’s flames.
“Thank you all. This time, I’m crafting a cursed goddess’ throne. Help me make it!”
Clang, clang, clang!
Hephaestus began melting every ore in the forge.
The Cyclopes, dropping their playful demeanor, focused with the same intensity they’d used to craft Zeus’ thunderbolt, Poseidon’s trident, and Hades’ helm.
While they didn’t fully grasp Hera and Zeus’ situation, they were always on Hephaestus’ side, their apprentice and like a son to them.
***
Months later, in the deepest forge of Sicily, the Cyclopes’ workshop, stood a magnificent golden throne.
It radiated a magical allure that surpassed even the Twelve Olympian seats, tempting any god, nymph, or creature to sit upon it.
“It’s finally done…”
Hephaestus and the Cyclopes had labored for months to create this masterpiece.
Snore, wheeze!
The Cyclopes, exhausted from months of relentless work, collapsed and fell asleep.
Hephaestus gave a wry smile, stroking the golden throne.
“This will bring indelible shame to the queen of the gods.”
Yet, even as he imagined Hera, his mother, humiliated, he hesitated.
His creation, fueled by rage and resentment, could harm those who had cared for and raised him.
“They’ll surely retaliate, subtly or not. My father and brother are more than capable of that…”