Chapter 37: Hephaestus (4)
Hephaestus’ greatest concern was for Thetis and the Cyclopes.
His second mother and mentors, who had raised him, would surely struggle to withstand the retaliation of Zeus and Ares.
“Even with Poseidon’s protection, I don’t want to cause them any more trouble,” he thought.
Despite having everything prepared, Hephaestus hesitated, gripped by lingering doubts.
Then, unexpectedly, Thetis appeared.
“Oh my! Is this what you’ve been working on, Hephaestus?” she exclaimed.
“Lady Thetis, what brings you here?!”
“Just visiting my son, whom I haven’t seen in months.”
“I’m… sorry…”
Thetis smiled warmly at the guilty expression on the young man’s face, ruffling his hair and pulling him into a tight embrace.
“When I first found you as a boy, you were so bold, standing up to even Poseidon with such cheer. Now that you’re grown, why do you worry so much? This mother is always concerned for her grown son.”
“L-Lady Thetis, don’t bring up such embarrassing childhood stories!”
Hephaestus wriggled out of her embrace, flustered, trying to hush her tales of his youth.
“Oh! Now you’re bold enough to silence your mother? Quite the grown man!” Thetis teased.
“It’s not like that!”
“Hehe, alright. Hephaestus, that innocent, childlike purity suits you. Don’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
Thetis smiled, seeing the tension in her adopted son ease slightly.
“And I heard Hera visited. That’s why you made this beautiful golden throne, isn’t it? I’m guessing it’s not for a kind purpose, though. Am I right?”
Hephaestus met Thetis’ warm, knowing smile, then lowered his head in silence.
“…”
Seeing his dejected demeanor, Thetis hurled a water bomb at the Cyclopes.
Her voice thundered with indignation.
“Get up! Your apprentice is struggling, and you’re all napping?!”
“Urgh!”
“It’s a flood!”
“Save us!”
The Cyclopes, startled awake by the deluge, scrambled to their feet and lined up before Thetis’ wrath, looking like soldiers caught slacking by a superior.
“Thetis, it’s not what it looks like! We were just resting after finishing a big job!”
“Arges was imagining ways to make it prettier, not sleeping!”
“Ugh, Thetis, I’m sorry! I didn’t keep my brothers in check!”
Thetis shook her head at the Cyclopes’ excuses and turned to Hephaestus.
“Hephaestus, my son, don’t worry. Your silly masters and I aren’t afraid of some young upstarts. We’ve been through our share of battles. Your concerns are nothing to us, so do what you want. Go and express your feelings to your brother and parents without holding back.”
“Thetis…”
Hephaestus’ voice trembled with emotion, his eyes misty.
In that touching moment, as he reached to wipe his tears, Thetis unfurled a piece of paper with a flourish.
“Oh, and by the way, your masters and I have already arranged to take shelter in Poseidon’s palace for a while.”
“What?”
“I heard from Poseidon that you made something to humiliate Lady Hera. So, this mother made sure to secure a safe haven. Poseidon and Hera bicker, but they’re secretly close, so hiding in his palace will be fine.”
“W-What?!”
“And your brother? He wouldn’t dare step foot in the sea. The moment he does, he’d be torn apart. Everyone in the sea knows about Ares’ antics at the Olympian council. Honestly, I wish he’d try—I’d love to feed him to Aethiopios.”
Hephaestus was dumbfounded by the sudden shift in tone.
It had been such a heartfelt moment.
“Hehe, will Ares really dare to come?”
“No way. If he makes it to Poseidon’s palace, I’d respect him.”
“Then I want to go to an amusement park this weekend!”
“Hoo! I’m with Arges on that! We’ve been working too hard!”
“Alright, I’ll make it happen.”
“…”
Watching Thetis and the Cyclopes banter over the paper, Hephaestus couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
‘Gods, I was foolish to worry. These are the people who raised me.’
Thetis, his surrogate mother, always had a backup plan—or two.
The Cyclopes, ever loyal, followed her lead without question.
Hephaestus recalled how flustered he’d been by their antics as he grew up.
‘Who was I even worrying about? I’m the one who should be worried…’
Shaking his head, Hephaestus asked one last question about Zeus’ potential retaliation.
“What about Zeus? Won’t he react if Hera is humiliated?”
“Zeus? Why worry about him?”
“Well… because of what I’m doing to Lady Hera?”
“Oh, you don’t know your father well. He’s too soft on his kids to do anything. He’s probably watching you from afar right now, too guilty to approach.”
Crackle.
A faint electric hum accompanied Thetis’ words, but Hephaestus, absorbed in her response, didn’t notice.
Thetis alone caught it, while the Cyclopes, as oblivious as ever, missed it entirely.
‘Honestly, Zeus is just like Poseidon—such a doting fool. Too ashamed to face his son, he’s probably been circling for years, keeping watch…’
Thetis was well aware of the intense internal strife and succession struggles within Olympus.
More precisely, after the Titanomachy, the issue of power distribution among the gods and mythical beings—aside from Zeus’ siblings—had become a significant concern.
It was akin to a divine version of feudalism, in human terms.
The incident where Ares pushed Hephaestus off Olympus was merely the eruption of a long-festering problem.
While Zeus had sired many powerful children, such as Athena, Apollo, and Artemis, they weren’t all recognized as legitimate heirs of the queen.
Moreover, whether they could fully displace older, formidable gods like Helios and Selene was another question entirely.
Additionally, Athena’s position was complicated by the fact that Metis, her mother, was still alive, making her status ambiguous.
Because of these dynamics, the fallout from the assassination attempt on Hephaestus was far greater than he himself realized.
Zeus and Poseidon had been the ones to contain the chaos.
Zeus, in particular, had kept a close watch on Hephaestus whenever he had the chance.
‘Tch, Hera and Zeus are such amateurs as parents,’ Thetis thought.
Though Hephaestus didn’t fully believe Thetis’ words, one thing was clear: he no longer needed to worry about those he cared for.
“So, I can do what I want?”
“Yes.”
“And no harm will come to you or my masters, no matter what I do?”
“That’s right. So go give your family a piece of your mind.”
“Alright!”
Bolstered by Thetis’ encouragement, Hephaestus cast aside his hesitation and ascended to Olympus.
Thetis and the Cyclopes watched him go, their expressions a mix of support and concern.
“I hope he reconciles with Hera, Zeus, and his family,” Thetis said.
“Not likely with that fool Ares around,” one Cyclops grumbled.
“He’s right. I saw Hera thrash him, and he still acts like that? The guy’s insane,” another added.
“The problem is Hephaestus’ goal is to tarnish Ares’ divine authority!”
“Ares could use a little humbling. Besides, if a true heir is needed, there’s always Athena.”
“““True enough.”””
***
With their support, Hephaestus carried his golden throne to Olympus.
Upon arriving, he was greeted by the Horae, the goddesses who guarded the gates and determined which gods could enter.
Though they didn’t recognize Hephaestus, they couldn’t ignore the magnificence and majesty of the throne he carried.
“A new god? Is this a gift for the Twelve Olympians?” one asked.
Hephaestus, relieved they didn’t know him, responded calmly.
“Yes. I’ve come to offer this beautiful throne to Queen Hera.”
“Wow! As expected. Only Hera could sit on such a throne.”
“That’s exactly why I brought it.”
The Horae, captivated by the throne’s allure, could barely restrain their desire to touch it.
Suppressing their longing, they spoke with effort.
“Sorry, but we can’t let just anyone in with an object like that.”
“After the incident in Olympus, we tightened security. Even objects are restricted.”
“We’re sorry.”
Hephaestus was secretly pleased by their refusal.
His goal was simply to ensure the throne reached Hera, after which he planned to make a swift exit.
“I don’t need to enter. It’s a shame, but I understand. However, I made this throne with Hera in mind, and it’s not dangerous. If you could show a little leniency, I’d be truly grateful.”
With that, Hephaestus subtly offered the Horae some necklaces and earrings he’d crafted as practice pieces.
The Horae gasped at the jewelry.
As goddesses, they’d seen countless adornments, but none as exquisite and noble as these.
They studied the red-haired, slightly unattractive blacksmith god before them.
Though he seemed newly born, his skill suggested he’d soon earn a place in Olympus.
After a brief discussion among themselves, they reached a conclusion.
“I’ve never seen a craftsman this skilled.”
“Eunomia, these are even prettier than the earrings you bought last time.”
“Nike, look at this necklace—it glows like Hecate’s moonlight!”
“We should get on his good side.”
““Definitely. A craftsman this talented is rare.””
Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to befriend him, the Horae agreed to fulfill Hephaestus’ request.
“Alright. A craftsman of your caliber will surely please Hera.”
“Absolutely. Hera’s been grieving over losing Hephaestus, so this will bring her some joy.”
“A gift like this could offer her some comfort.”
Praising the new god, the Horae took the golden throne and hurried to deliver it to Hera.
Behind them, the red-haired young god bowed slightly in farewell as the gates of Olympus closed for the moment.