Shelia
*"Her presence is like a mesmerizing spell, and I have lost myself within the depths of it..."*
Brian
❝ ⌜ What men call vanity, I call divinity. What men call lust, I call power. I was born of the sea, and like it, I shall show no mercy.⎯ ✶⌝ ❞
 
Title. [Siren](
Setting. Hephaestus Forge.
Characters. APHRODITE, HEPHAESTUS.
Pings/Mentions. 
Notes:
 
 .𖥔˚.
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Aphrodite, cloaked herself in the serene and modest guise of Hestia, golden hair draping across her shoulders as she moved gracefully through the quiet corridors leading to Hephaestus' forge. Keeping her nose from wrinkling to the smell that permeated the air of metal and molten fire, the rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil echoed through each stone wall she passed through. An amusing smirk playing across the innocent face of the goddess of the hearth. A simple silken dress of white draped across a body that really should have been shown off more. "A shame, dearest Hestia, your modesty hides such beauty..." Pleased with herself, Aphrodite moved to the place she had avoided so often within her marriage. Forced, had she been to hand herself over to the god of the forge and yet she felt the jealousy and spite surge through her at the information she had come across. Hephaestus had dared to lay wanting eyes on another. 

Another, as he had the woman named Aphrodite chained to him in marriage. For years she had been forbidden from Ares, punished in the harsh words and nature of others every time she had dared to make love to him and yet Hephaestus had been allowed this mercy. Her virgin sister had moved to claim him, and only seen acceptance in return. A betrayal. A betrayal Aphrodite could not forgive so easily.

She stepped into the forge, her movements a delicate balance between Hestia's demure demeanor and her own inherent allure. The flickering firelight danced across her face, casting shadows that hid her true intentions. Hephaestus, engrossed in his work, didn't seem to notice her approach at first. His frame was silhouetted against the glowing forge, muscles rippling with each strike of his hammer. There was a time where Aphrodite had done her best to find the allure in this, in him, but she could never see past the bitterness at her being torn from Ares' side by the command of another. 
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"Hephaestus," She called softly, her voice gentle and warm, mimicking Hestia's comforting tone. So soft was the heart of Hestia, that Aphrodite had practiced before approaching her still husband. Had practiced the chastity like actions of her sister. 

Aphrodite moved closer, her eyes soft and inviting in her manipulation of the man. Toying with him had never been easier as the envy consumed the entirety of her thoughts. "I wanted to talk to you, Hephaestus. I've been worried about you. You spend so much time here alone." Fingers hesitated to touch him, to place a hand on his arm, feeling the heat radiating from his body. It was something she could only assume Hestia would do, the opposite of Aphrodite's lustful allure. Aphrodite did not shy from the touch of another, to be touched by another, but Hestia...

Tilting her head in a delicate manner, her eyes glinting with a spark of falsified concern. "Even the strongest in solitude need companionship sometimes..." Her fingers moved to trace a delicate pattern along his arm, waiting for the tense in her approach, to her touch, so that she may fake a soft rouge to her cheeks and retreat her hand in embarrassment from his skin. 

"I- I am sorry. I overstepped. I only- You deserve so much more Hephaestus and you seem so lo- I only wish to provide comfort." 
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She moved closer, one cautious step after the other. Mimicking what she had learned in watching Hestia over centuries. Her dearest sister, so innocent in every movement and word, now in taken form by Aphrodite. Who was close enough to Hephaestus, her breath warm against his ear. "You work so hard, Hephaestus. You deserve a moment to relax, to be cared for. Let me give you what you need, Hephaestus." Aphrodite leaned in, lips just a graze away from being claimed by the man Aphrodite had avoided time and time again. Brushing against him, her fingertips moved to linger against his cheek in a caress that was unlike any she had allowed him before in their years together.

The perfume mimicking the scent of Hestia so that it may consume his every thought. This was his fantasy, she could tell from her own powers within, and Aphrodite wished to give him a taste only to tear it from him in one swift movement. To show him that it was not so easy to run from the marriage they had both been cast within. To show him he may not leave her within their jail cell alone as he frolicked through the fields with another. 
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Janice
In the heart of that ancient, stone-walled forge, Hephaestus stood tall and mighty, his broad shoulders hunched over his latest creation. The glow of the fiery coals basked his figure in an almost otherworldly light. The air was thick with the pungent scent of molten metal, tinged with a hint of sulfur, and the rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil echoed through the workshop like a steady heartbeat. The Forge God's intense focus barely wavered as he poured all of his skill and passion into shaping this new masterpiece. A sense of power and energy seemed to emanate from him, feeding off the very essence of the forge itself, making it clear why he was the God of the Forge and the Blacksmiths of the gods.

The space was adorned with the tools of the trade, each one a symbol of mastery and dedication. Hammers, tongs, and chisels hung on the walls, well-used but meticulously cared for by their master craftsman. The flickering flames of the roaring forge fire cast dancing shadows across the space, illuminating the intricate details of the tools and creating an almost mystical atmosphere. Lanterns hung from iron hooks, their soft glow adding to the warmth and ambience. And in the corner, more glowing embers waited patiently to be brought to life under skilled hands. 

This was a place of true craftsmanship, where every tool had a story to tell and every creation was a work of art. This was Hephaestus' space, his domain, the one place he could escape and find peace- despite the never-ending conflict that seemed to wage just outside the doors of the forge. Here he was free to just be... No pressures from Zeus, from Ares, from Aphrodite. No one telling him what he should be or ridiculing what and who he was. Here he was free to simply be himself and to lose himself in his work. Beads of sweat glistened on his furrowed brow, mingling with the grime that coated his skin.

His intense gaze never wavered from the glowing metal in front of him, its molten form bending to his divine will as he shaped it according to his masterful vision... Until he heard a voice, soft, pure, and quiet... Yet it pierced through the noise of the forge easily as it hit his ears. 

Hephaestus paused in his work, the rhythmic clang of his hammer ceasing as her words reached him. His eyes, usually so focused and intense, softened as he turned to face her. The firelight caught the beads of sweat on his brow, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of soot across his forehead as abroad smile spread over his face, reaching all the way to his eyes.

"Hestia," He murmured, his voice kind yet a little rough from the many hours spent at the forge. "You came..." There was a tenderness in his gaze that was like nothing Aphrodite had never seen directed at her since those early days, back when he still tried to ease the pressure and the pain that their forced union put in them both. His gaze flickerd from her eyes to her hand, delicate fingers hesitantly reaching out to touch him, fingers tracing a light intricate pattern on his arms. There was a flash of heat that spread over his face at the touch as he sighed she pulled her hand away timidly.

"You work so hard, Hephaestus. You deserve a moment to relax, to be cared for. Let me give you what you need, Hephaestus." The words hit, kind and full of concern but with an honest earnestness that made it hard to ignore. Hephaestus reached out, his rough, calloused hand hovering just above her own that lingered against his cheek, as if he was afraid to touch her, to break the illusion of the moment. "I... I didn't realize you felt this way," He said softly, his voice tinged with wonder and disbelief. "You've always been so kind, so gentle... But I never thought..."

There would have been a brief flicker of something... Anger maybe... At his words, at the notion that Hestia, with her gentle demeanor and chaste heart, could so easily win the affections that she, the goddess of love, had never been able to secure. Had the forge god had a reason to suspect he might have noticed the brief falter, but as it was he saw nothing.

For all their time spent cuddling on the couch in the common room, sitting and talking in front of the fires of their respective domains, and time just spent in each other's company, it had never gone far. A chaste kiss on the mess of blonde hair or a soft kiss on his hand as they walked along the beach was as far as things and gone... Until now. Hephaestus's breath hitched as she leaned in, their faces just inches apart. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sound the crackling of the forge and the quickening beat of his heart. And then, slowly, hesitantly, he closed the distance between them, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, chaste kiss. 

It was a kiss unlike any Aphrodite had likely ever experienced. There was no maddening flurry of passion, no raging fire, no lustful embrace. Instead, it was gentle, tender, filled with a quiet longing and a deep, abiding affection. For all the faults she found in the man she felt so chained to and restricted by, Aphrodite did know how to put her finger right on that pressure point... Something that would have terrified Hephaestus in that moment if he had been aware.

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