Thomas
Location: Hephaestus' personal home forge 
Who: Hestia and Hephaestus
Sandra
The clang of metal against metal did not echo through the vast cavern of the divine forge that day as it usually did. The space was relatively empty, all the craftsmen and apprentices and workers having been sent away as soon as he had returned. Hephaestus, god of the forge, sat hunched over his work table, his muscles still tense and hands still trembling slightly from the earlier altercation with his brother, Ares. The argument had started over something trivial, as most of their fights did. But this time, the words had cut deeper and the blows had landed harder. Hephaestus could still feel the sting of Ares' hands against his cheek, the heat of his breath as he spat insults and accusations.

He had retreated to his forge, as he always did when he needed to calm his anger. The heat of the flames and the rhythmic pounding of his hammer against the anvil were usually enough to soothe his frayed nerves. But today, despite his best efforts, he couldn't shake the hurt and anger that coursed through his veins. Hephaestus stared into the roaring fire, watching as the metal in front of him glowed red hot. 

His thoughts were a jumbled mess, and he couldn't make sense of them. He had always been the quiet one, keeping to himself and his work. Ares, on the other hand, was loud and impulsive, always seeking out conflict and reckless adventures. They were complete opposites, and yet, they were brothers. Bound by blood and blood alone, they had never been close. But today's argument had driven a wedge between them, and Hephaestus wasn't sure if it could ever be repaired.

He gripped his cane tighter, his knuckles turning white as he tried to control the rage building inside him. It wasn't fair. He had always tried to be the peacemaker, to avoid confrontation and keep the peace among his siblings. And yet, it was always him who ended up bearing the brunt of Ares' anger.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to push away the memories of their fight. But they flooded back, unrelenting and painful. Hephaestus could feel the lump forming in his throat, the familiar stinging behind his eyes as he looked at the half-finished wood carving that sat before him- 

A desperate attempt to keep his mind distracted. He had always been self-conscious about his appearance, and Ares' words always had a sharpness to them that only the God of War and his brother could manage. Every word designed to cut deep. The jabs at his appearance and disability. The taunts highlighting his weakness compared to the other gods. The feeling of uselessness when it came to standing up for himself and protecting those he cared about- especially Hestia... It really weighed on him. 

Hephaestus felt the shame and humiliation well up inside him once more, as if he were a child again, hiding in his workshop to escape his brother's mocking laughter. His hand trembled as he looked at the crude carving in his hand, hearing Ares' mocking words about his appearance and his worth echoing loudly in his head once more. 

He couldn't take it anymore. In one swift motion, he flung it into the fire. It landed with a crash in the middle of the embers, causing the flames to leap high into the air, the roar of the fire drowning out his own ragged breathing. He was a god! The God of the Forge, master of fire and creation! He would not cry over the insults and taunts of his brother. And so it was there Hephaestus sat, staring into the flames as he fought back the flood that seemed to be threatening to wash over him.

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Karolyn
``An unfamiliar route would be the one that laid before the Goddess of the hearth that day. She too had been privy to the bravado & pugnacity of her nephew, Ares. The God often held enough respect for the woman to hold his tongue, and she held enough respect in his duties to not interfere. After all, what was such a peaceful deity to know about conflict?

Enough. Enough would be the answer. For while Ares was summoned in the times of a soldier's strife, or their imminent victory in his name, Hestia would be summoned to his leftovers. His consequences, where those who weren't his soldiers had to pray that those who were, came to bash down their door. To pray, that those who were wounded protecting them, would come to find aid in their time of need. Hestia understood little of Ares' work, but she knew plenty of his consequences.

And such a consequence had her traversing these halls. She had only been to Hephaestus' forge a few times, in search of simple requests. Despite being family to many of the Gods & Goddesses, she might as well have been little more than an acquaintance, with how little she made herself known. Were she not sister to the King of Gods, she would've likely been little more than myth. But, while very few knew her, she knew many of them at a deeper level. The Goddess wasn't a fan of gossip, but her job was that of a protector. A guardian. A guiding light. A minor boon of such, was a sort of clairvoyance, through the sacred hearth. She held little control over it, but she could peek in on the lives of any who lit a flame in her name, and as she gifted such flames, nearly all were subconsciously done in her name.

This often led her to scry on mortals from all over. A loving family cooking a meal, a bustling street market, an entertaining show, or a romantic dinner by candlelight. Such glimpses made her heart swell, even if scraps of longing came after. Small enough to push down like always, and repress the thought with a smile. But sadness came``

``as easy. A devastating forest fire, a rage-fuelled crime, a tragedy beginning to bloom. These were harder to gift, and harder still to watch, as the Goddess could do little else but skew the odds, so that it turned out good in the end. Such things took longer to leave her heart, but she could normally choke them down all the same.

But, there was one thing she couldn't forget. One flame, that she had only seen just a couple of times, on quieter nights. An intrusion that she felt bad for, despite the lack of control she had, and yet one she couldn't easily forget. Who else, but the flame belonging to the one of her like-domain. The God of fire and forges, Hephaestus.

A few times, Hestia caught a glimpse of the remnants of a meeting with Ares and his brother. They all ended the same, with the War-god winning his battle, and the fire in Hephaestus' soul falling away into little more than an ember. It was soul-crushing to witness, such a kind soul be stamped down in such a manner. And the heartache only swelled, as the kindling of spending time with the Forge God made her more empathetic.

And on this night, Hestia felt the same pain. A rage that boiled hotter than her flames could, out of little more than a fractured ego. Were it not for those around her, the Goddess couldn't rightly say what she would've done. But she was weak. The constant rage stoked her flames, causing her own energy and heat to be taken as payment. Her skin would be paler than it already was, as colour couldn't build in her cheeks. Yet, she persisted, the heat inside her still battling to remain. She had to do this.

She considered doing what she always did. Fleeing to her Hearth, and gathering her strength, then putting on a brave face for all the next day. It was a tried and true strategy. But, she knew of one other person who would think the same, and she couldn't bear to have someone else go through that.``

``To Hades' realm with cowardice. Her white himation dress would flow out behind her, and her golden locks flowed with them with renewed passion & fervour, even doing a bit to bring a slight pinkish blush to her cheeks. Or was that... She would shake her head, as she continued to bolt towards Hephaestus' domain. She couldn't wait any longer. He needed what she didn't often get. Why shouldn't she serve as that?``

*Rounding the corner, panting heavily, Hestia would stand proud, looking into the dim forge. It looked exactly as she saw it through the Hearth, just as cluttered & grim as she had seen it. The forge was devoid of its usual commotion, and filled with a deep gloom. Casting a dark shadow, Hephaestus would be sat before the fire she so often saw him in.*

*Placing a hand over her heart, she would step in timidly, stilling her shaking, nervous breaths.* "H-Hephaestus? May I come in?" *Hestia would call out softly from the doorway, keeping one hand on the doorway of the more personal room. Her face was that of a small frown, filled with worry for the God, as she eyed his silhouette.*
Sandra
The sound of steady footsteps echoed through the cavernous forge, alerting Hephaestus to another's presence. But he didn't turn around. The air shifted and filled with the intoxicating scents of herbs and spices, a lingering sweet aroma that always accompanied her. Hephaestus' grip on his cane tightened as he braced himself for the voice that would soon reach his ears- the voice he both longed to hear and also feared, in a way, at that moment. Her soft footsteps stopped behind him and he could feel her presence like a warm embrace, a welcome intrusion into his solitary world of flames and metal.

Hestia, with her gentle disposition and unwavering strength, served as a steady anchor for Hephaestus. With just a smile, kind words, and her comforting touch, she could dispel any fog or confusion in his mind. In this moment of turmoil, he longed for her presence to bring him peace and stillness. But at the same time, he feared that she would see him in this vulnerable state - broken, weak, pathetic, and cast aside by his own family. The cruel words of his brother echoed in his mind like a never-ending cycle, tormenting him even now.

He didn't want Hestia to see him in this vulnerable state. Despite the safety and comfort of the forge, he couldn't shake off his guard completely. Only when he was truly alone—after Callie had gone to bed, Arsenio had closed up shop for the day, and the other craftsmen and apprentices had left for their own homes—did he allow himself to let go. It was in these moments of solitude that the facade he wore so tightly during the day often crumbled, revealing a side of himself that few were privy to see.

It was then, in the stillness of the night, a single tear escaped from his eye. It was that moment, a rare display of vulnerability that he reserved for the cover of darkness, that Hestia had chosen to make her presence known. Hephaestus lifted a hand to his face as it rolled down his cheek, and he whispered a silent, desperate plea for change. In that moment, he felt completely shattered and broken. He was no longer the mighty forge master, the legendary blacksmith of the gods. He was just Hephaestus, another soul struggling to survive amidst the endless wars of the gods. This was when he was at his lowest, feeling utterly defeated and alone in his struggles.

Hetia's words, soft, almost hesitant reached his ears. He couldn't bring himself to look at her even as he turned and looked over his shoulder slightly. His eyes stopped short of her as he opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. After a second failed attempt he simply nodded, shoulders slumping a little more as he stared at the glowing embers and the small flames that danced still before him.

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Karolyn
*She would be unaware of the scented aura she gave off, as she stepped into the hearth. She knew she bore a smell of the hearth, slightly smoky, with an essence of spice, but she wasn't aware just how much the spice truly radiated from her.*

*It had been a good while since Hestia had stepped into the Forge. As she carefully shuffled into the place, step by step, she would think of all the times she had promised to do so before. For commissions, for a visit, for simple enjoyment. She was only disheartened that it had taken such a catastrophic event to make her finally set on doing it. Still, she couldn't think about such things now. She needed to check if Hephaestus was alright, and would continue to step closer.*

*She hadn't fully noticed she had started to enter without permission. Continuing to move forward, she felt an almost gravitational pull towards the forge god, as if her domain demanded her to help him. She had seen him weak a few times before, but seeing it fully in person put a pressure on her lungs and heart. A pang of guilt, sorrow, and desire to help welled up inside her, as she moved ever closer. She would catch a glimpse of the tear down his cheek, and would bite the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to stay put, until her presence was formally welcomed.*

*At the sad, gentle nod, she would then move forward quickly, her sandals hitting the smooth stone noisily as she set off in a dash. She would have to silently remind herself to show some restraint, as she stepped up to his side, resting a hand on the arm of his chair, as she gave a gentle sigh. The gentle rolling fire would react to her presence, having recalled her gaze through it a few times before, as it turned a slightly golden colour, and crackled louder in response to her.*

*Crouching beside the forge God, she would look into his eyes, breathing softly.* "H-hello, Hephaestus. I-I'm sorry for what happened, earlier. I know it was not by my fault, but I know that Ares shall not apologise

For such, so I want to do so for him, in some capacity." *She would say, eyeing up his hand, that white-knuckle gripped his cane.*

"H-how are you feeling? And please, do not mask the truth. The gods lie to each other enough as it is, let us not do it in times of weakness"

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Sandra
Hephaestus lifted his gaze, hazel green eyes flickering with the glow of embers that flared up in the presence of the goddess of fire. Shadows danced across his face, adding depth to the strong planes of his jaw and cheekbones, the dark circle under his eyes darker and more pronounced than ever. He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated, unsure of how to answer her. It was always expected for him to say he was fine, to downplay the constant aches and pains and exhaustion that came with being the god of craftsmanship of the forge and of the fire. It was his role, his duty, it was who he was. 

But deep down, there was one fear always whispering- what if he couldn't work at his forge, what purpose did he have? What good was he to anyone? That voice in his head whispered cruel words, reminding him of his past and the pain of rejection. 'As useless and pathetic as the trash you were thrown out with,' it sneered. 'You can't protect her, you can't even stand up for yourself. You're nothing without the fire and that hammer.'

Those words had been ingrained in his mind and into his very soul since he first returned to Olympus so long ago. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, Hephaestus couldn't shake off the fear that they held some truth. The thought of losing the respect and the connection that came with being the forge master left a gaping void in his heart and soul. What would be left of him without that title? What was he if he was not the blacksmith of the gods, the great forge master, the master craftsman? He had no power, no strength, no might to stand on like his father or his brother, or any number of the other godly kin he shared Olympian with, had. It was a constant source of turmoil and self-doubt, always lingering in the back of his mind like a dark cloud hovering over his every move.

.

Hephaestus blinked a little, chasing away the drifting thoughts as he looked at Hestia as she stood beside him. He forced himself to push away the negative thoughts and focus on the present. His grip loosened on the cane a little as a certain softness fell over his eyes as he signed, leaning ever so slightly into the gentle touch as he did.

"I am tired Hestia..." He said softly, his voice strained and rough, the weight of the simple words almost echoing in the relatively empty forge."So... Tired." There was more he wanted to say, so much more. Words to apologize for being weak, for both being able to protect her against the stinging insults of his brother, words to say how he felt... But none of them would come. And so he sat there, the light and shadows dancing through the forge as he looked at Hestia with a pained look in those tired eyes. 

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Karolyn
*The goddess of fire would watch the slumped Hephaestus, as she gently leaned on his chair beside him. She watched as he hesitated, but would keep her own lips shut, giving him the room t try and speak, egging him on with a kind smile. She knew it wasn't an expression she was likely to get bac from the forge god, but she hoped it warmed his soul, as much as her presence warmed the room.*

*Hestia couldn't look into Hephaestus' mind. There were certainly gods & goddesses who could, but she doubted that Heph would even let her in to try & help, let alone another deity who might belittle & mock him because of it. She frowned slightly, as she regretted not having a domain that would allow her the insights she desired. She watched him through the fire, whose light they now basked in, but it gave her no more clues than what she could see plainly before her.*

"I know this is likely the last thing on your mind... But I hope you can forgive me for my lateness... I know I've made as many promises as there are stars in the sky, of coming to visit. I can only apologise for only coming now, when you... W-when you're not at your best." *She would move her hand close to Hephaestus', as she looked down at him.*

*She would give a worried frown at his words, moving around to his front, and crouching down to look into his eyes, which were heavy & tired.* "Hephaestus... Dear one, if there is one thing my long, long life has taught me, it's that you cannot stay up thinking about this all night. Come along, dear... Let me move you to somewhere more comfortable at least." *She would reach a hand out to Hephaestus, going near the hand not by his cane, to help him from his chair.*

"I can get you a drink, and something to eat. *Thrones, do you need it...*" *She would whisper to herself, really feeling her role as an aunt as she crouched before her nephew. But, there was something more she wanted... But she also wasn't sure now was the right time.*
Sandra
For the longest moment, Hephaestus didn't move, and Hestia would almost think that her words had once again fallen on deaf ears. He didn't look up as she spoke, instead still gazing at the embers dancing beneath the unfinished pair of gauntlets... His latest project, this one intended for someone special... Each hammer strike, every sigil carved in was a small part of him, a small piece of his soul poured into his work. It was everything he knew how to do and everything he ever was good at.

Then blinking slightly and with a weary sigh, Hephaestus shifted his weight ever so slightly, allowing Hestia to help him to his feet. The blacksmith's grip on the cane tightened as she helped him to his feet, the sudden movement sending a spike of pain up his injured leg. His jaw clenched as he bit back a curse. "I... Thank you, Hestia. " The words were short and clipped but there was no anger in the statement, only exhaustion."Drink and something to eat sounds good..." He allowed with a sheepish look as he gazed at the fire goddess.

Hephaestus took a slow, unsteady step away from the work bench, with Hestia's help. One hand still gripped the back of the chair as if it were a lifeline while his other hand held onto his cane for balance. With each step he took away from the table and the forge itself, he winced slightly but tried not to show any sign of weakness in front of Hestia. Pride, stubborn pride was both a friend and an enemy at times like this.

Hephaestus let out a heavy sigh of exhaustion as Hestia came to his aid, providing support as she led him towards the small cot tucked away behind a modest curtain in the far corner of his personal home forge. Despite this being his private workspace, located directly below his and Callie's bedroom, he often found himself choosing to stay down here to work instead.

The warm glow of the coals and the familiar scent of burning metal were both comforting and invigorating, luring him into a state of focus and productivity. But now, as his body ached from hours spent hunched over the anvil, he was grateful for Hestia's assistance in making it to his makeshift resting place.

He sank onto the bed with a sigh, letting out a breath that he had no idea he had been holding in. A grimace passed his face as arthritis flared up in his joints and legs, adding insult to already grievous injury as they settled down onto the mattress. Whether it was from the pain or simply a desire not to bother his daughter late at night with his at times noisy climb up the stairs, staying in the forge was just easier much of the time. Hence the small sleep space he had set up some time ago. It was a simple bed, nothing like the grand palaces of Olympus but it was home and it was enough for him when all he did was sleep and work.

"I... Apologize for being... Such company," He signed as he finally let himself look up at her, voice rough with fatigue though he did manage a smile as he reached out a hand and laid it over hers gently, giving it a gentle squeeze, feeling the warmth radiating from her. "Thank you Hestia... For..." Hephaestus trailed off as he looked at her. How do you thank someone for actually caring and showing up? 

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Karolyn
*She would give the forge god a concerned smile as he sat catatonic before her. She couldn't afford to let herself seem weak in his presence, or give the impression that such an act for him was a burden on her. She stayed in position, with a hand extended to the forge god, silently encouraging to accept the aid for once, only masked as a kind gesture. He needed the help.*

*She would gasp softly as he accepted, squeezing his hand tightly as he took it to help him stand. She came round to his side, helping him out of the chair* "There we are... Come along..." *She would whisper, more so to herself. She would twitch as she watched him grit his teeth, and it took what little will she had remaining to not commission every single ember in the man's forge towards healing him. It would likely only end up incinerating his outfit, anyway. Despite how he tried to display independence, & show strength, she stuck close to him, wrapping an arm aound his aching ower back, as she helped him along*

"Of course, dear. You look like you need it. I won't scare myself by asking when you last had a good meal" *She would crack a joke, giving him a soft smile as she looked up at him, laced with concern. She would pull the larger fire god against herself, forcing him to use her for support, and unintentionally hugging his side. A blush didn't come to her face at the closeness immediately, as her mind was hyper focused on helping him, in addition to her repressed feelings.*

*She aided his path, not exactly knowing where his resting place was, but when she caught sight of it, she would help him over to the curtain that hid the resting area, brushing it aside as she helped him inside. It made her heart ache to hear him in such pain. And not just pain, but **Masked** Pain, as if he couldn't dare to show his weakness around her, even as it cut through his whole body. A small lump would form in her throat, as she committed herself to helping him as soon as possible.*
🔥

*Hestia would quickly draw the curtain behind them, obscuring the forge & its glow from view of the flame god, before helping him down onto the modest bed. She let him down slowly, almost feeling the pain in every movement he made. The place was far from Olympian standards, but the same could be said for her own living arrangements. Spartan is how some people would call it, providing the basics & little more. The basics was something she could appreciate.*

*After ensuring he was as comfortable as she could manage for the time being, she would turn around, and locate the mini fridge, presumably left by Calliope, she would think. Opening it, she would hold her tongue at seeing it fully stocked, hoping that it was because it was recently stocked, & not because Hephaestus had been abstaining from such. A small crate of teabags would also be sitting on top, and the flame goddess suddenly had an idea.*
❤️‍🔥

*Getting a less than clean mug from the side, she would rinse the inside out, before placing the teabag inside, and filling it with water. Then, she clutched it close to her chest, willing all the internal heat she had into heating the water, so that Hephaestus could enjoy a decent drink, that should help his aches. But was there anything else that she could do for them...*

*She would shake her head for the moment, handing the mug to Hephaestus.* "Here you are, dear, drink up." *Taking out some items from the fridge. Out of what was there, she took out some moderately fresh fruits (Not left for too long, then), as well as some oats & yogurt. Dicing up the fruits Heph liked, and adding them to a bowl with the filling oats & yogurt, she would stir it around to mix it, warming it as she did. Her eyes would begin to droop as her own energy was used to supply such blessings. But it was a worthwhile endeavour.*

*When she was done, she would turn back around, handing the slightly warm bowl to him* "Careful now, it's- Haha, well, I suppose its heat is not a problem for you..." *She would step back a bit, looking at Hephaestus wistfully, placing one hand to her chest. Her eyes would flutter, as she battled her lowering energy. She shrugged it aside with a question.* "D-do you still hurt, Hephaestus?"