Frank
Location: Hephaestus' forge.
Who: Hephaestus and Zeus 
Zeus comes to see Hephaestus and talk... About things.
Brenda
Hephaestus, the god of fire and craftsmanship, toiled away in his forge, his strong arms swinging hammers with precision and skill. The glowing embers danced at his feet as he transformed cold and lifeless blocks of steel, iron, and even luxurious gold into practical tools and stunning works of art. Blades sharp enough to slice through anything, shields sturdy enough to withstand any blow, tools efficient enough to make any task effortless, and stunning pieces to honor the god, goddesses, and even demigods, - these were the fruits of his labor. 

And yet, despite the satisfaction he found in his work, there was a sense of emptiness that lingered within him. He had always been content to simply create and let others do with his creations as they pleased. After all, it wasn't his concern what purpose they would serve. It was not his business what use his creations came to, that was up to those who used and wielded them, It had always been that way- he was the master craftsman and creator, nothing more. His purpose lay in making things for others and finding purpose in the fruits of his labors. 

But lately, he couldn't help but yearn for the joy of making something purely for his own use and enjoyment. As he worked tirelessly at his forge, the pungent smell of smoke and scorched metal filled Hephaestus' senses. The rhythmic clanging and crackling of flames echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of the task at hand. As he poured his heart and soul into creating this masterpiece, he couldn't help but feel conflicted. 

On one hand, the creation represented his passion and skills as a blacksmith. But on the other hand, it also held memories of past pains and struggles. Nevertheless, he couldn't deny the rush of adrenaline coursing through him as he forged ahead, unsure of what emotions would ultimately shape his final creation.

Hephaestus revelled in the joy of his work, finding solace and purpose in creating objects that others would come to rely on. Yet, amidst his devotion to serving others, he allowed himself moments of selfish pleasure. And this current project was one of those rare occasions. As he stood before his workbench, meticulously shaping each piece with his skillful hands, a sense of fulfillment washed over him. Straight and sturdy supports were masterfully carved into shape, straps and hinges carefully crafted with precision, and a design that seamlessly balanced both comfort and practicality emerged from his mind's eye. 

Stepping back to admire his progress thus far, a subtle smile played at the corners of Hephaestus' lips. It was a promising start. But now it was time to pour his heart into the more intricate details, infusing his creation with beauty and functionality in equal measure. With steady hands and a sense of pride, Hephaestus crafted his finest brace yet. For as long as he could remember, he had been using his skills as a blacksmith to create sturdy supports for his disabled body. For as long as he could remember, he had wielded the craftsman's hammer to create his own braces and supports, overcoming his disability with each masterpiece. Mortal-made tools simply could not withstand the power and rigors that came with being the blacksmith of the gods. 

Countless braces had been forged by his hands over the millennia, each one a testament to his skill and determination. But this one was different. It held a complexity and intricacy that surpassed any before it, a true work of art among the many creations in Hephaestus' arsenal. Perhaps, after years of dedicating his skills to fulfilling the needs of others, it was finally starting to sink in that he also deserved a few nice things. Yet, it was likely the looming gala and its swirling pressure that truly consumed his thoughts. The event was pressing, leaving little room for anything else in his mind.

As he carefully worked, memories flooded his mind. He recalled with a smile the happy days of his time spent in the forge crafting and the words of praise his fellow deities had for him and his work. And there were also the painful ghostly memories of how he had been rejected and looked down on by his own kin. The very thing that made the brace in his hands necessary was a source of both pride and pain for Hephaestus, a constant battle he could never fully quite quiet in his head or in his heart. But through it all, his passion for creating never wavered, and it showed in every delicate arc and swirl of gold that he lovingly crafted onto the brace. 

With each finished detail, he felt a sense of accomplishment. Lost in the intense heat of the fire and the rhythmic clangs of his hammer, Hephaestus was completely consumed by his work. The scent of burning wood and metal filled his nostrils, but he hardly noticed as he poured all of his focus into crafting a beautiful piece. It wasn't until a figure approached the forge that he snapped out of his trance. And not just any figure - it was THAT presence, standing in the doorway of his sacred space. With a hint of amusement in his voice, Hephaestus tilted his head slightly toward the visitor, still not lifting his gaze from the task at hand to address the unexpected guest who was standing on the threshold of his safe place, his sanctuary. 

"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit?" He asked, trying to mask his curiosity behind a facade of nonchalance.
William
With each passing day, the drum of an impending war beat a little louder in Zeus's mind. As King of the gods, he stood confident in his own strength. Yet, a flicker of uncertainty still danced through him. He wished to be certain of who was in his corner. Hephaestus remained an enigma, their relationship marred by a lingering bitterness. 

In the past, it had been an uneasy dance drawing the two of them together, but time had ushered in a tentative truce. Yet forgiveness was a creature of many colors, and its depths remained uncharted. With chaos stirring on the horizon, Zeus needed to know where Hephaestus's allegiance truly lay. Would he sway towards Poseidon? A defiant act against his father's rule? Or would he stand with Zeus, in the realm where only the valiant belong? 

He would not wait for an answer. 

He would wait for no one. 

Zeus's journey culminated at the fiery heart of Hephaestus's domain, the forge where earth's bones were wrought into divine instruments. In his true form he remained unveiled, his presence alone a declaration. As he approached, Hephaestus was the picture of focus, his attention poured into his craft, indifferent to any company. Zeus's eyes, alight with the power of a storm, sought his son's gaze. Whispers of what brewed in the distance slithered through Olympus. He did not forget Hades stood like a coward, calling for peace only to undress his wife. 

Zeus wondered how much of the undercurrent had reached the ears of the smith god. What did he perceive of the conflict between his uncles? The tension that tugged at the pillars of every foundation built to that day? The weight of unasked questions lingered between them. What truths did the lesser god hold? What side would he choose in the conflict? Was he angry at him even now? The moment of reckoning was upon them, and when their eyes met, Zeus's chin tilted upward just slightly. 

—

"Well, you're never difficult to track down." 

He took a step forward, the silence thick in the air. His eyes drifted down to the creation on the table, but hardly long enough to take interest in it. He clenched his jaw, his eyes slightly narrowed.

"I'm sure you have heard of Poseidon's recent temper tantrum. He has declared war this time."
Brenda
As the sound of Zeus's booming voice rang through the forge, Hephaestus couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease spread through his chest. It was easier to stay the course, isolated there in the forge where the rumors and whispers of war could be drowned out by the sounds of sizzing embers and the pounding of his hammer on metal. He of course knew of the growing tension and the conflict, it was impossible to avoid even there in his safe haven.

Hephaestus took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He knew this day would come eventually, the past always had a way of creeping back, and when it came to his and his father's relationship there was always that shadow hanging over it. Though he had forgiven his father's transgressions, he could not easily forget the hurt they had caused. And while he chose to distance himself from the political games of his uncles, he also recognized the weight of responsibility that came with being the son of a powerful deity like Zeus. It was inevitable that these difficult questions would arise.

 Just like old times - looming and imposing, Zeus towered over him especially given his seated position at the forge as his hands continued to work on the piece before him. He glanced at his father as he set his tools down, studying the lines on his face for any sign of worry or fear. 

"I have heard. One more war of the gods among many is it not? Another power play. Another attempt to one up the other." The words fell from Hephaestus' lips with a hint of cynicism and disbelief as he looked at his father curiously. "Are you really that concerned about the outcome of this one? You've dealt with every other challenger who has tried to oppose you, have they gotten so under your skin that you are worried?"

||
William
*"Another power play, another attempt to one up the other."* 

Hephaestus' words hung heavy in the air between them, laden with a tone Zeus found strangely elusive. Yet as he dissected it, something flickered in his chest until it began to burn. Such insolence, to address him with a brazen tongue and defiant gaze, was blasphemous. He wanted to pounce on this, thunder rumbling in his heart. But, he was acutely aware of their shared history, and the looming shadows of what was yet to unfold. All were pawns in the grand stratagem, Hephaestus included — his turbulent emotions, and their lasting, tangled bond. 

Moments trickled by like grains in an hourglass, and Zeus reined in his acrid retort. His mind became an arena where apologies jostled with justifications, where truths tangled with fabrications. What words to offer Hephaestus, how to mend the rift and proceed, remained a puzzle. Yet, Zeus was resolute; he would ensure Hephaestus stood by him. Drawing in a deep, anchoring breath, Zeus took a slow step forward. His hands clasped behind him, his eyes suddenly softer than they were before. 

"He has declared war. I am King, I must not sit back and watch as he attacks." 

His shoulders were still, his brows knitted together in mild confusion. 

"What is it you want instead? I have come to you today because time is minimal. I need to know where you stand." 


Zeus would not meander through pleasantries, this he had to know. His bond with Hephaestus was frayed, but present. Forgiveness had been extended long ago, yet a residual sharpness lingered in his son's words, a tartness he could taste in their every interaction. He could hear it in the silence, in the heavy looks cast his way. In his heart, the memory was indelible. 

But, would it pull him away now?
Brenda
Hephaestus, his broad shoulders tense and his jaw clenched, absorbed the intensity of Zeus's gaze. He leaned back against the cool metal of his worktable, the smell of burning embers and molten metal filling his nostrils. His calloused hands instinctively sought comfort in the familiar weight and texture of his tools, a reminder of his true passion amidst the tension of their conversation. The forge's heat enveloped them, making beads of sweat form on their foreheads as they stood face to face. The air crackled with electricity and unspoken words, the weight of their power and family ties hanging heavily between them

"You ask where I stand," Hephaestus began his voice a controlled blend of weariness and resolve. "I stand where I have always stood — at the forge, between fire and anvil, shaping what my fellow gods demand. My allegiance, like my creations, is not given lightly nor fully swayed by the whims of conflict."

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the imposing form before him. Zeus. His father. But more importantly the ruler of Olympus, Olympian and everything in between to a large extent. Hephaestus chose his next words with the precision of a master craftsman selecting the right tool for a delicate part of his work. 

"But you are right. We are beyond the luxury of time and simple choices. Poseidon's fury threatens more than just your reign; it endangers the very fabric of what we have built among the mortals. His rashness goes beyond the tantrums of a jealous rival and threaten everything we have built." Hephaestus straightened, locking his gaze with his father's, his expression hardened by the flames of the forge and his own internal struggles. "I will stand with you, as I must. Not for the sake of personal feelings, but for the stability of our realms and the balance it preserves. We don't always see eye to eye and I feel that will always be the case."

Hephaestus' words were simple but not harsh, simply truthful as he looked at Zeus. "Despite our tumultuous history and any lingering animosity between us, I will stand by your side. But make no mistake, the forge is my domain and I will not bend to anyone's will. I make what I make and do what I have always done. What anyone does after, that is on their head's not mine. However, when the final votes are tallied, my allegiance lies with you, Father." Hephaestus looked across the glowing and dancing shadows of the forge at Zeus, waiting for his reaction, trying to read his thoughts before he said or did anything in response.

||
William
*"I stand where I have always stood — at the forge, between fire and anvil, shaping what my fellow gods demand."* 

Zeus deciphered a bitterness to his tone he did not quite understand. It was somehow both ignorant and knowing, and he drank it in with a carefulness in his eye. A smirk dared to pull at his lips, but he bit it back as Hephaestus continued. He understood the precariousness of their relationship, but wisdom dictated he align with those who ensured his safety. Loyalty did not exist in the hands of Poseidon. He would not protect him, and Zeus believed he knew that. 

Hephaestus' words, although mostly irrelevant, outlined what he came to hear. Listening with detached amusement, he filtered out all but the essential promise: *"You are right. I will stand with you, as I must."* Zeus nodded once he spoke, his gaze steady on his son's, his expression stoic like carved marble. That declaration alone sufficed, fueling Zeus' cocksure belief that, despite their past, Hephaestus knew who to report to. 

Zeus masterfully cloaked his true emotions, presenting a facade of serene attentiveness as Hephaestus voiced his concerns. Each nod, each seemingly thoughtful pause, was nothing more than a calculated performance. Beneath this veneer, Zeus's true focus lay sharp on the scales of allegiance—numbers were his currency, loyalty his treasure. 

—

Each word from Hephaestus about fractured bonds and the weakening pillars of their shared foundation served only as a measure for Zeus, a way to tally who stood with him and who against. This was not a heartfelt exchange but a strategic assessment, a silent counting of allies in his quest for an unyielding army. As the conversation dwindled to a heavy silence, Zeus's gaze remained fixed, his frame statuesque, he took a deep breath before he spoke. 

"You never cease to impress me, son. You have made the right decision. Poseidon operates under ulterior motives, together we stand against that." Zeus drew closer, "Until we meet again, son." His eyes appeared honest and grateful, and then without warning he was gone.