She was still on the ground, staring at the ceiling. Well, it looked as if she was staring. In truth, the eyes of Athena were rife with the machinations of what just happened…and the consequences of it.
Her poor owl, still unnamed, was near bursting at the seams. When she had come into this world, fully nurtured within Zeus's core, she had been assaulted by something she had never experienced before.
Emotion.
It was disturbing to her, alien even. Within the confines of Zeus she never truly developed in full, not entirely. All the mental development of maturity but none of the age that was associated with it. Her emotions could never truly intertwine with herself, always just out of reach and thus never bothering her.
In the outside world? It was debilitating. She was frozen. She remembered what it was like previously, that world of pure logic. It was beautiful to her, that state. The turbulence of emotion proved far more distressing than she could have ever anticipated.
Disgust at Ares.
Hope with Artemis.
Love for Zeus.
Annoyance for Hermes.
All in all, aggravating. Yet, it was worse with him. When she saw his red blood, her formed spear ready to pierce whoever struck her father's skull, she was curious. Her eyes saw more than most assumed, analyzing every analytic it could to defer even the slightest weak point of her enemies and allies.
With him… with him she saw an equal. Smart, analytical, and more importantly, mysterious. He was a puzzle she still couldn't figure out.
Hephaestus was intriguing.
Even now that was still true. The entire interaction with Medusa was so assumptive that it went against his entire nature. He acted as if he already knew the content of the story, as if he had already experienced the plot. The Hephaestus she had come to respect was cautious, always looking at every angle for a problem. To the majority, this was aggravatingly slow. His meticulousness was seen as cowardice or stupidity. But she saw it for what it was… and she lusted for it.
It was the most disruptive emotion she had, this tasteless lust. She knew herself well; it wasn't a bodily desire, but a mental one. The idea of them studying together, forming ideas, was all so desirable to her that she actually attempted conversation beyond the necessities. Unfortunately, it wasn't without its annoyances… the key one being the Goddess of Love.
Aphrodite she simply loathed, the foolish goddess acting as if she knew what Athena was going through, as if the lust she felt was somehow her domain.
She knew nothing. The idea of bodies meshing together in desire was…a blank. There was little way to describe it. It was not a featured disgust, as Artemis had, just a singular apathy. It was the true opposite of Aphrodite's disposition. The Goddess of love was always hounding her, trying to get her to "be true to herself".
By her estimations, Aphrodite refused to establish the idea that love and sex were not one and the same. The oldest of their kin and she was a basic airhead.
She scowled, willing away the swirl of emotions she felt. enhancing the desire of others. She didn't desire anyone. Not in the way that Aphrodite so craved.
Yet…here she lay. Her hand covered her stomach, housing a result that would usually come from the fornication that Aphrodite so enjoyed.
It didn't make sense.
There was no error. She never made errors. She had scanned and replicated the "blueprint" that was Hephaestus. She reverse-engineered his blueprint and replicated the components within her own divine core. Elements were missing, of course. She had the variables but not the vehicle that deployed them. Hephaestus himself was formed with the soul of a man cocooned with Hera's divinity…at least that's what the evidence seemed to point to.
His imperfections came from the means in which Hera birthed him. Quick, abrupt, like normal gods. If she had allowed Hephaestus the months to form properly…well, he would have been a God pure and true.
She couldn't replicate that. Housing a soul, free to manipulate as you wish, required a skill of weaving that was beyond what Athena could accomplish. It was a sour note to her, but there was a reason that Hera was the Goddess of the heavens. She could create life. Genuine, true life. It was difficult, time-consuming, and resource-intensive…and a skill Athena did not have. A skill that she would never truly have.
Hence, the experiment. With this method, she could circumvent the need for another…at least that's what she thought. The very nature of his composition made natural births impossible.
So she was safe. She should have been safe. She had of course manipulated the mechanics of what she had developed from him. She removed key elements, scraping away all the divine essence of Hephaestus, leaving only the mortal frame.
It was rather an ingenious idea really, at least to her. Hephaestus' divine nature was too fractured to actively use, not to mention that mixing the divinities of two Gods the way she was envisioning would have spontaneously created a child. Mortal women would be unable to procreate with a God like him, their bodies unable to latch onto just the mortal framework.
His human half however, with a Goddess that could weave with some skill like hers, was much safer. It required a method of incubation foreign to the natural means of the world, but what was once truly impossible became possible.
Stripped of the divine core that made Hephaestus the strange demi-god/god that he was, she instead instigated her own. The divine elements that made Hephaestus were instead replaced with her own. The elements of her child's human half would be stained in the colors of Athena and Hephaestus, rather than just Hera alone.
The hypothetical result would be a child born with the physical container of Hephaestus' mortal half and the divine energies of Athena. The result would be a Demigod much like Hephaestus was. The benefits of divinity and mortality rolled into one…though, it wasn't a pure copy.
The resulting child would bear weaker divinity than their parents, lacking a divine core like Hephaestus and herself carried. They would be weaker, true…but the idea of it indicated a child much stronger than the average demigod.
If her calculations were correct, only Perseus thus far would be comparable.
The blueprint was done but it was supposed to be safe. It just lacked a spark. There was no manual for it, no methods to create it. It was a pure hypothesis kept within her mind. Nowhere near the womb that she had in her female state, stored safely instead within her mind. She kept spiraling, twisting the thoughts in her head, constantly replaying these same thoughts over and over until.
There was no plan for a spark to be induced into the child. Even if there was, a child could not be born without the proper environment. There was a reason for a womb…
"Ah," she whispered, the thought occurring in her musings, "...of course."
She wasn't human. She had assumed that the process for creating demigods was similar to the natural human birthing process. It was the case for the Goddesses that had relations with humans. It followed standard human births, requiring nine months to fully develop. The babies were formed entirely in the womb as it would be for humans.
She had assumed a correlation…when the truth was that it was analogous. Similar, but different.
She had completely overlooked it. She had assumed…and she shouldn't have. Was she not born within the mind of Zeus? Was she not herself a rather strange Goddess, similar in vein to Hephaestus' own uniqueness?
The assumption that the realm of her mind could not spark life was an oversight.
Still…that didn't answer the one thing that still stumped her, the one thing that kept her within the swirl of that same mind, wondering of the life that was rapidly growing.
The spark. The spark of life. The soul.
Where did it come from? She did not install such a thing; no bartering for an experiment with Thanatos to acquire one. It was born, as naturally as the souls of any being. Some were recycled from the cycle, others were born anew, like this one.
At what point did they? Naturally speaking, it would require at least Hephaestus's…material. Yet…there was nothing physical that had been invoked. Her stomach twinged a bit, reeling at the blows that Hephaestus had given her.
She stood up suddenly, her owl squawking awkwardly as it fussed around her. She kept her hand on her stomach, her now brown hair curling around her face. Emotions were not…attached to her in the same way as it was for other sentient life. It wasn't intermingled with her very essence. She disliked them and wanted to be rid of them. When she first formed, her hair was black, a void that represented the lack of emotions within her. Yet, it all funneled in, the sudden heightened surge turning her hair blonde of all forsaken things.
Her brown hair was natural, her…true state, so to speak. She felt this calm only with Pallas. She ran a finger through her locks.
"...Emotion," she muttered.
The emotions for both had been heightened. Her blonde hair wasn't natural, but merely a consequence of shoving her emotions into her divine animal. Due to their connection, it always inevitably backfired, surging back on top of everything else she felt. It was an imperfect system, admittedly. Yet, it was that very imperfection that gave her insight. She remembered the fondness and hate she felt for Hephaestus in that moment and bit her lip. Most would assume hate was the absence of love, its opposite.
The truth however was a far darker secret. Hate was not the opposition, but merely the reflection. You could not hate an individual without love for something. A hate for a nation that opposed you, the hate for an ex-lover. Regardless of how that hate was directed, there was love somewhere connected to it, however distantly.
Under ordinary circumstances, an emotional surge between gods doesn't result in anything. If it did, the world would have been overpopulated a long time ago.
Yet…she wasn't normal.
Her mind twisted and reeled as her vision swam. Emotions, it was always the emotions. She took a breath, allowing her emotions to remain for once, her brown locks framing her angered expression. The very absence she created with the emotions she tore out created a hole she didn't account for. It was a stupid mistake. Yet that anger began to simmer into a new emotion, one that made her gut feel like a rock.
Guilt.
"What have I done?" she whispered.
It may not have been intentional, but it didn't matter. There was life within her. A child between her and another…one without his knowledge. Other gods wouldn't care for the circumstances…but she knew Hephaestus would.
Apollo had forced himself on Hephaestus and attempted to alter his body without consent. Was this not a sin of much greater magnitude? Immediately, her thought was to terminate the child, ignore it completely, and pretend nothing had happened.
She directed her will to it…and nothing. Her eyes twisted shut at the strange, flowing feeling in her chest. Was this not what Hephaestus wanted?
A child?
A family?
The thought of them living together as the same makeshift family revolted her. She was no wife. Yet…the sight of his forlorn expression, the acceptance of it. Killing the child would make things easier for her, in a way…but what about him?
If this were a natural occurrence, his opinion would matter little. In the end, it was her body. Her hand twitched as she hovered with a surge of divinity, her stomach glowing slightly as she attempted to direct enough power to simply…terminate it.
Yet, she never could quite do it. No…she never even thought to. Hephaestus was a mere smoke screen…an excuse.
While her mind was logical, her emotions and body were swayed together to a different action. Once more, her hand rubbed her stomach, a placebo.
She felt that distant emotion, the twinge of it. It was…happy. Joyful. She hesitantly opened the connection, allowing the full surge of her own emotion to return to her. It was intertwined in that disgusting way she always hated.
A smile slowly grew as she felt the very life within her.
There was strength to this child. Barely formed as it was, she could feel the raw heat within her. A smoldering flame that dwarfed nearly any child she knew of…the only exception being Perseus.
Pride.
Love.
Fear.
She felt fear. For the life within her was flickering; it was unstable. The blueprint was only hypothetical. There were imperfections across the board, countless tiny details that she would have painstakingly adjusted.
Something needed to be done.
She grimaced, pouring the very thing that had birthed the child into the cracks of its own imperfections. Her brown hair…slowly turned black. It would take time…but it needed to be done.
Not for Hephaestus…but for her.
Strange wasn't it…the things one could desire in the smallest of moments.
-Three Days Later-
Hephaestus stood above the clearing, eyeing the region beneath his volcanic mountain. Under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn't claim such ownership…but it had become the epicentre of his activities over the last few years.
It wasn't a natural formation. The fight with Atlas had effectively terraformed the once smaller volcano into a peak that towered in the centre of the entire island. Though to lay blame on Atlas was not entirely accurate.
The combination of Atlas's own attacks on the island and Hephaestus's attempts to redirect it had left his home in a precarious state. The efforts of the nymphs, himself, and even Kassandra had all swirled the mass energies into the centre of the island. He had never paid much attention to it, not until a few years ago. The centre of the volcano…it was much like his reality marble.
He rarely used it, preferring his inner world to theoretically craft his most outrageous ideas. However, as of late, it had become a place of solitude for him, a place to forge weapons and armor of a more…natural variety.
It was a swirling mass of energy, a leyline surging right within the volcanic activity. The shard of stone that was used to vent the island's pressure, and the swirl of divine energies that caused its shape to change, made it the perfect place to bring what he dreamed within his inner world into reality by his own two hands.
He had only forged two weapons here. A spear and an attempt to reform an ancient weapon. Both were…attempts, that much he would say. He was here now, making the preparations to ensure its use for today. Here…he would craft a third weapon.
He had taken a year for Kassandra to make the sigils she did to isolate the energies from interacting with the surrounding life. But he was still worried. Once was happenstance. Twice was a coincidence. Third…was a pattern. Until he forged a third weapon inside that mountain, he would never be certain if it contained the power safely.
To any onlooker, that would seem to be the source of his unease. A clenched fist, a worried glance. Sitting on the edge of the quiet volcano, looking below to the city in the distance…it wouldn't be strange for others to assume it was the people he was worried about.
"..."
"Just go see her," whispered the voice within.
He smirked. Strange wasn't it, how things changed? In the beginning, her voice only brought the grimace of necessity. A surge of annoyance tempered only by the reality that any alternative was a fate far worse than death.
Now? Now the voice of Styx brought a sense of relief. Her soothing tones may have been grating to those who didn't know her, but he had begun to find the solace her words could bring, the slight timber her tone carried.
It was a cold warmth…and for one like him, that was more than enough.
"I've intruded enough," thought Hephaestus, "Besides…I'm not entirely certain what I should be feeling now."
On the one hand, he had effectively picked a fight with a Goddess in her own home and then just as abruptly got kicked out.
On the other…on the other, Medusa had suffered the very fate he had hoped to avoid. He lacked any sort of timetable to properly measure when things could be. His memories of EMIYA were not some grand calendar that he could follow.
He had made a choice to live. To live in the way that EMIYA could not. To live in the way that the Hephaestus of old couldn't either. To live by his terms. Perhaps if he had adopted EMIYA's mannerisms and methods…he might have been able to save her.
Having just directed himself to that one goal, gathering intel without pause or concern for himself. Just drifting through the days…perhaps that's why the guilt wouldn't abate. Ifrit cawed from the sky, his eyes closing as he shared his sight with her.
The memories of her flight showed that Medusa had found a home, or at least some semblance of it. While her curse may not have been fully removed, she had at least regained a human appearance.
"...I only hope that's enough," he muttered.
He couldn't help but fall deeper into his melancholy. He sat there, staring into the city he had watched grow, swirling ideas of how he could have done better. Yet, he still sat here, doing nothing. A part of him thought of just going to her and giving her everything he could.
The memories of a woman, her eyes covered by bandages, hair a rich purple. A stoicism and strength that could be leaned on.
The memories of that face haunted him. A woman that he never truly knew. A woman whom he felt he knew well. Was it a blessing or a curse, these memories of EMIYA? In many ways, his life had changed for the better…in others…
He smirked, shaking his head.
If he really closed his eyes and concentrated, he could hear them. His hearing was not some ridiculous power. He didn't hear words or conversations. Just the rumblings of life. The mixed thrum of humans mulling about, animals rushing through the woods. It is a boundless beat. EMIYA and Hephaestus both lived a life free of such a beat.
Yet, for all his feelings of sorrow and regret, he found that a small smile still graced him. The sun was beaming, the winds caressing his hair, and an old friend stood by his side.
Even as he stood, Ifrit made her roost on his shoulder, nary a feather out of place as the two moved in sync. It wasn't that hard admittedly, with Ifrit perched where she was. Yet, she was always one to bring him back to earth so to speak.
A caress of her own thoughts dwindled the truths he'd rather avoid to the forefront. A silent promise was kept between the two.
His smile dimmed as the image of Athena's hurt expression filtered behind his eyes. No matter what his justifications were…he had hurt her. He felt no guilt for the combat that ensued between them. He was not the one who threw the first blow.
But that face…he had aimed to stop her only. He was a naive fool, thinking that he could do so without getting anyone hurt.
He felt Ifrit spread her wings, far longer and wider than any bird her size rightfully could. Her claws pierced into his shoulder, yet no blood flowed. If anything, her talons melded seamlessly with his body.
He hopped, letting Ifrit's wings bring them down softly from the peak of the mountain. It was a far smoother ride, given their years of practice. He grimaced slightly, the memory of trying to use Ifrit's wings as his own filtering in his mind.
Both would rather forget that poor memory. The feeling of his muscles tearing out of place as his weight ripped the wings out of his body mid-air was a stinging sensation even EMIYA had never felt.
Projecting blades from his body had a similar result, it would seem. Besides, even if it worked, Ifrit was the better flyer anyway. His mental compliment earned him a fiery pass of her head across his own.
Even as they disconnected, the feeling of Ifrit intermingled with himself was the greatest feeling for him.
Well, thus far anyhow.
He smirked, avoiding a few puffs of fire aimed at his back.
"Thank you, old friend," he said simply.
A proud screech and the beautiful phoenix took to the skies. Her blazing form rocketed to pass over the island a few times. It had become something of a local spectacle. He gave an uneasy smile, watching her fly. The poor bird was proud and adored the attention the people gave as she flew overhead.
He just hoped they didn't think he enjoyed it as well.
His face fell.
"That's exactly what they think," he thought, remembering all the offerings they still refused to cease bringing.
"You have no one to blame but yourself," said Styx, "Gods cannot reside in the human realm forever. Yet, here is a god that lives amongst them. You're a fool if you think they can just ignore that simply because you ask them to. Let's not forget how you've changed since the first time they met you."
He rolled his eyes as he wandered through the forest, waving to the nymphs and other spirits he came across. The nagging tone of Styx still rumbled in his head, her sisters silent. Unlike her, they roamed as much as they could, soaking in the freedom that they had gained.
"You can roll your eyes as much as you please, but the fact remains. These people have claimed you as one of their own. They have leaned on you for survival. You've saved them from landslides and earthquakes. What's foolish is that you expect them not to revere you. I thought it was sweet they planned to name their community Hephaestia of all things."
"You're far more invested in that idea than they were," he thought grouchily, "now I'd like some quiet to myself for now."
"So you can brood about Athena again?" she sassed.
"So I can work."
He cared little for the scoff he heard, but she remained silent. It was a good thing too, for in his humble abode, Kassandra was placing several herbs into small pithos. They glowed with several grecian sigils, the magic encapsulating whatever she put within the jars. He said nothing as he approached, moving past her to inspect her newest housing.
He had made it larger this time around and applied several layers of reinforcement to the beam and structure overall. They needed it now after all…for this had become the home of Kassandra's own alchemic laboratory.
She called it her Sanctum. Hephaestus called her a dork…which led to this eerie quiet.
Yet, Hephaestus was a rock. Calm and steady. Kassandra…not so much.
She finally broke the silence, only turning to stare at him. He faltered a bit, her judgmental expression further honed with her narrowed eyes.
They screamed "I know" at him, yet he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.
He also couldn't for the life of him really care. The toxic judgment found no ground with the utter affectlessness of Hephaestus.
The sun glared above them, the beaming light acting as judgment upon Hephaestus. He looked at her, the beams completely ineffective. However, she did stop moving, so he sighed and finally spoke.
"...Did I do something?"
"...You certainly did someone."
His face was impassive, his golden eyes drilling right to her soul as she resisted the urge to look away.
"...That is not of your business," he muttered, shuffling away to pick up the rest of the pots he had made for her home. At least, he tried to. He became increasingly more uncomfortable as the tears shimmered in her eyes.
"IT IS MY BUSINESS!" she cried, her hands gripping him by the shoulders. She shook him roughly, her tears flowing, "She's basically my mom, you asshole!"
"Since when!?" he croaked.
She faltered at the first burst of emotion she had ever seen from him. He actually looked shocked and concerned.
"Well…since forever? I mean, she took me in."
"SINCE WHEN!?"
She sniffled, turning away.
"At least make her happy."
She covered her arm, sniffling into it. He was about to continue this ridiculous conversation until it hit him.
She never acted this way.
EVER.
He scowled, crossing his arms.
"You done?"
Her crying immediately ceased as she turned, sticking her tongue at him.
"Boo," she muttered, "you're no fun."
"Yes," he drawled, finally turning to finish the project, "Because my sex life and its contents are for your amusement."
"So the rumors were true."
"Shit," he thought.
He said nothing, continuing his project. The building was done for the most part. It was mainly the artisan components that were taking some time. Now that he knew she was basically using it as a storehouse, things needed to change.
"You know I have my own house," she muttered.
"Your shack is crumbling apart. At least here you can rest and store what you need."
"Lasted longer than what you built," she sassed.
He stopped, turning to her, his eyes filled with disbelief.
"At least I didn't leave my regents out."
He ignored the pout and hurt eyes, narrowing his own in turn. She looked away.
"I sealed the cave," she muttered.
"Yes, what a wonderful job you did. You put a rock…that someone could push…and you left it open."
"It's not my fault they ignored me and just walked in!"
The head tilt did it for her, the sharp pain in her chest accented by the blank expression.
"It is your fault," he said simply, "you just had to push a rock and not leave it open. It's not that hard."
She shook her fist at him.
"It's not that easy to push!"
"...you seemed to do it just fine any other day. Just say you forgot."
Ignoring him, she trotted inside the large barn, putting multiple sealed regents away. For the last two days, they had been creating sealed pottery for the regents that Kassandra liked to collect. It was deemed necessary after the…incident.
They both sighed, remembering that poor girl who thought eating mushrooms was the way to get magic. It was certainly a magical experience for her, no doubt. They were lucky that they were mostly hallucinogenic and not poisonous.
She lived, thankfully, though it resulted in a mass rush on a project of this scale. Even though Hephaestus could conjure all the pottery they needed, the sealing was a different matter entirely. He could, in theory, project it, but that came with problems of its own.
For instance, his divinity. The energy that he excluded would taint the very things they wanted to contain. Even human magic would bring properties that Kassandra would rather avoid. He had already developed a means around it, but Kassandra was quite adamant about using her own skills in the matter.
He didn't blame her; the idea of someone else meandering through his forge or messing with his materials made him balk at the mere insinuation. This was her domain…but damnit, he wished it could be done just a bit faster.
He didn't remember EMIYA ever being this impatient. His fingers thrummed on the wood, creating a familiar beat whenever he needed something to center him.
Thump Thump Thump. Thump Thump Thump. Thump Thump Thump.
Continuous and Monotonous. The feeling of his fingers reverberating with the hit of the wood eased his most hyperactive thoughts…though admittedly it did little to help. He had already begun reconstructing ideas around Ig-Alima of all swords. It was such a colossal weapon, gargantuan even. Entirely unwieldy. A single wondering thought, the idea of making it wieldable, sent him into a tailspin of a thought that simply wouldn't let go. It was always swirling in the back of his mind, itching and itching at the forefront.
It was aggravating.
It was distracting.
Yet, it did little to ease the weight on his heart.
It did little to ease his feelings regarding Athena and their bout as her expression bloomed once more..
It was the way she looked at him, that slight hint of hurt…he didn't know what it was. What made her feel that way?
"Heph?"
He turned to his oldest friend, smirking at the feel of a peck on his heart as he smirked.
"Decided to finally make use of my skills?"
"Hades no," she muttered, a swirl of sigils around her mouth blocking the name from resounding out, "We got a guest…again."
She smirked.
"Several, it would seem."
Kassandra leaned forward, her human half anyway, and began to comically sneak around his home. He caught on quickly, easing his own look. His smile faded while hers grew. Suddenly, a child latched onto his leg, making the God turn to see a small toothy grin. It was a small girl, a stick in hand. She couldn't be older than nine, her head barely past his waist. She wore a beige chiton, latched with a basic leather tie.
"GOT YOU!"
She stabbed the stick into his knee. It snapped with ease, but the mighty god fell all the same. He kneeled before his slayer, the child grinning as she stepped away.
"You got me," he said simply.
A handful of other kids appeared, all of varying ages. One woman was amongst them, her haggard expression contradicted by the large smile on her face.
"Lord Hephaestus," she uttered tiredly, "I…I really tried to stop them this time. But, they insisted that they give their offering this month."
He sighed, standing to look upon an older boy. He had sandy hair, curled around his face. It bounded amidst his brown eyes and darker skin. In his hands was a larger bowl, filled with fruits and meats. Most notably, in the centre, was a large serving of ash.
"This again?" muttered Hephaestus, "Come now, Andrew. I've explained numerous times that I have no need for something like this."
"Yup!"said Andrew, "but you also said hard work is to be rewarded, right?"
"Well–"
"And didn't you repair the side wall of our home?" said the girl with the stick.
She reared back, slamming another stick into his leg. She frowned a bit, eyeing her weapon with disinterest.
"That may be–"
"It's rude to ignore a gift!"
The new voice echoed through the clearing of Hephaestus' home, making the lord of flames roll his eyes at the sound. He turned to Krios, the man smirking as he leaned against a tree.
"I should have figured it was you."
"What can I say! It's only right. You work and give a service, it's only correct to be compensated for that service…unless you'll turn against your own word, my lord."
He bowed theatrically as the poor boy's arms shook. He smiled gratefully, accepting it with as much grace as he could.
"Thank you, truly."
The small girl clapped another stick against his leg and he turned to her.
"Are you quite done, Arigal?"
She blinked.
"...No. I'll make you fall one day, lord Hephaestus!"
He stared at the child, noting the quiet chuckle that escaped Kassandra.
"...why is that little one?"
"Krios said he'd give me that crystal you made him if I defeated you in single combat!"
He blinked. An aura of darkness shrouded Hephaestus. The stoic look of death seemed to grab Krios by his head.
Krios suddenly stopped laughing.
"Wait, that isn't what I said!" he muttered hurriedly, "Listen Arigal, Gods aren't beings you just…speak rudely to!"
She stared at him, narrowing her eyes. Hephaestus's frown only deepened at the man's hypocrisy and lies.
"...not buying it?"
He never retorted, for Arigal's shrill voice echoed with the certainty of a child.
"But you do? Besides, Hephaestus is the best God!"
He blinked, staring at her as she smiled. She was missing a few teeth, raising another stick.
"You're the best God! The strongest God, right lord Hephaestus!"
He felt his heart quiver, a ghostly apparition of himself clenching its chest behind his stoic expression.
"I appreciate the sentiment," he smiled softly, "but such words carry consequences. Please, be careful. I'd hate to see you get hurt."
"But you'd protect us, like you always have!"
He knelt to her, wrapping a warm hand on her shoulder. Unlike before, no one feared what he might do.
"I know Eleni has taught you better than that, Arigal. You know as well as I do–"
"Meh!" shrugged the bratty girl, "That's other Gods, not you! You always lecture us when you come by! I wanna play!"
She swung the branch again, holding him at sword point.
"Let's play God vs. Monster with you…as…the…monster."
Hephaestus felt it the moment she entered. The call of the wild was strong as Hephaestus stood, turning to the edge of the clearing. Artemis lurked in the shadows. Krios was quick to gather Eleni and Andrew, making sure they were behind him. His leg covered Arigal, though the girl peeked out behind his leg.
"Artemis," he muttered.
"Hephaestus," she greeted, bowing, "I am here as agreed for my spear."
He clicked his tongue. He hadn't forgotten the time. She was meant to be here at the sight of midday. If she were here now, she must have twisted the rules just enough to squeeze into his domain. They were close enough for it. In other circumstances, he would welcome her warmly and fully. It actually was probably why the barrier didn't impede her as much as it could have.
That, and the blessings she had given.
He wasn't concerned for himself. Instead, he was more concerned with the children behind him. She appeared as her adult self. Her auburn hair hung wildly around her, a few strands of her hair licking her face. Her smile was demure yet shadowed.
But to the children that saw her…it was her eyes that drew them in. The golden hue of Hephaestus's own eyes was warm. They felt inviting, as if danger was absent in his presence.
Yet, these silver eyes bore into everyone here, the feeling of a fang nicking your neck clear as day. It wasn't overwhelming; if anything, it felt restrained.
It was akin to a large beast eyeing you, but not moving. Awe-inspiring…but dreadful all the same. But none could deny the feeling Artemis invoked. A natural beauty…in the most affectionate and disastrous way.
She hung her arms over her breasts, crossing them as she tilted her head.
"If I knew you were busy, I would have come at a different time."
"Perhaps the agreed-upon one?" he muttered.
She said nothing as he gestured for them to leave. Krios did his best to keep his gaze away from her. Eleni, the older tired woman, bowed to the Goddess, with Andrew close behind her. The young Arigal was reluctant to move, staring with all the wonder a small child could invoke. To Hephaestus's relief, Artemis was flattered rather than annoyed.
"A young huntress in the making, I presume?"
The little girl blinked, pointing at herself.
"Of course you little one. Who else would be so bold as to claim a god as her prey than a huntress?"
Kassandra lifted her up, ignoring as best she could the small frown that formed as she hurriedly brought Arigal away. The small girl waved goodbye, prompting Artemis to do the same.
"...you didn't need to do that," said Artemis.
"...You arrived…unexpectedly…Though I think I know why."
When Zeus had made no means to drag him up to Olympus, Hephaestus had wondered why. He was no fool. A fight between them was going to be addressed one way or another. It would seem it was now.
"You think I'm here for something?" muttered Artemis.
"Of course I do. You've always stayed to our agreed times, just as I have. You wouldn't nudge it for something like a spear."
Her hunting spear had broken in an attempt to kill a dragon of all things. Supposedly ,it was a beast that fed off the lightning of Zeus. It had no name currently, from what Hephaestus remembered, but Artemis had claimed it as her hunt. The spear had been the means of making the hunt enjoyable…until it broke.
Hence, Hephaestus. It was an easy fix, but one that must have been used as an opening. Yet, instead of coming clean, the Goddess of the Hunt merely looked at him.
"...you truly do assume the worst of us?" she whispered.
He stiffened, not expecting the response. He could only watch as she simply came to his side. She sat on the grass, in front of all the unsealed regents and rare flowers that littered the ground. She looked into the offering basket that had been placed on the ground, smiling at its contents.
"I'm not here for anyone," she explained, sad eyes looking at him, "Truly…but I did come here to get answers. I've…heard some things."
"Rumors are just rumors," said Hephaestus.
His hands itched to continue his work…but the weight that settled on his shoulders urged his attention to her. She may have been sitting, but the way her legs and shoulders were tensed…she could move at any moment.
Her agitation was clear, even as she spoke plainly.
"Perhaps. It always bothered me, the way you seemed so…reclusive."
She chuckled a bit, his eyes ablaze with judgment, resting upon stiff cheeks and a subtle frown.
"I'm not much better, am I?"
"Not really, what's your point?"
"My point…my point is that I always noticed your distance. We said we'd be friends…and we got closer…but I could always tell you seemed adverse to me in some way. I see now that it was less myself and more what we are. What we both are."
The sky darkened, the dark hue of storm clouds rumbling away. It was easy to forget the fragment of Zeus' power dwelling within this Goddess. She could not call on a surge of power within her body like Ares could, but the clouds…they would grow heavy with rain should she allow what she felt out.
This depressive rain sputtered, hitting the grass around her with soft plinks as they fell. The sporadic raindrops fell on Hephaestus' shoulders, steaming slightly at the touch of his bare skin.
"Gods," said Hephaestus softly.
"Yes. Gods. That…orphanage, as you call it. You had me bless it as a sanctuary for children. I thought that was a breach of trust."
"Where are you going with this, Artemis? You're not one for games," he muttered.
The feeling of the rain against her skin was something that brought comfort to Artemis. It was a small secret that she kept to herself, the fact that she adored the rain. The sound it made against the trees as it fell to the earth, the smell of ozone, it all wafted around her in the soft confines of nature.
"...I want to say…I get it."
"..."
She smiled, standing once more. It was slow, almost feline in the way she stretched. Even with the heavy rain, her clothes remained dry, with only her skin glistening from the few drops that had fallen.
"You remember Niobe."
The name lessened the fires of his judgment. Instead, she found pity and solace.
"I remember."
"I…I was ready to kill the very children I represent," she said, "...for my mother…I didn't even question it."
"..."
"...before and after…the idea of harming children is…"
It would be impossible. Her very domains made the thought impossible to form. Yet, it wasn't a desire to harm that drove her to action though, was it?
"But when my mother demanded it…I…I wasn't even thinking."
The rain drifted, like a cold hand caressing her cheek. She looked up, closing her eyes to bask in the rain as it fell just a bit harder. The thrum of it all surrounded her.
"I understand why. Which is why I came here early, Hepahestus. I need to know what happened between you and Athena. From your words, not the others."
"The others?"
"Apollo. Dionysus. Them and more. They say you assaulted her."
"What?"
The disbelief in his tone echoed the same sentiment she shared. Athena was a Goddess of War. As powerful as Dionysus and Apollo may have been, fighting Athena would have been a death sentence for either of them. Were the rumors factual? Did they know something she didn't? Or was it simply another cruel, stupid joke? An assumption they made, a rumor they could state as it was neither a lie nor the truth, another grey area the Gods could freely speak and act upon.
The idea of it just disgusted her. Her first instinct was to simply roll with it. Was that what men truly were? Beasts that wore the mocking shackles of civility…until it got them what they wanted.
Yet, she knew Hephaestus. She had spent time with him. He was different…and it hurt all the more that she harboured these doubts.
"I can honestly tell you that there was nothing sexual between us!" he stated, "...but I won't lie to you. We fought with each other."
"..."
He looked away.
"She had cursed a woman. Made her into a monster. I confronted her and it…escalated."
"...what did this woman do?"
She frowned, his shoulders tensing as his mouth twisted in a judgmental sneer.
"You would side with her? She was an innocent woman! She didn't ask for Poseidon's damn advances!"
Artemis had heard of Poseidon's latest…conquest. Ordinarily, the lord of the oceans was not one for taking. This was not for values or morals, but merely because he rarely had to take what he wanted.
He was more than capable of it…but Artemis knew that such a thing would not be an insult to Athena. It would be a provocation, a declaration of conflict…and that wasn't what Poseidon wanted. He wasn't the type to simply bludgeon whatever he came across. He was vindictive and spiteful at the worst of times.
He wouldn't merely stop at a provocation. He needed it to be insulting. He needed it to hurt.
Whatever the reason for the rivalry was, she couldn't understand, but she knew her family well after these few years.
"What is your proof?"
"Excuse me?"
"Your proof, Hephaestus? What proof? You asked me what game I was playing…you tell me."
She leaned forward, her eyes searching.
"What proof…did you have?"
This was a moment that defined him to Artemis.
Ares had raged when she demanded proof.
Poseidon lashed out when she demanded the truth of Medusa before she came here.
Even the silent thundering anger of her father was present when she demanded to be free of Poseidon's petty demands for her accusations. It may have been to her benefit…but he was still ready for violence at a moment's notice.
When his authority and pride were speared into, this man merely paused.
He took a breath. His eyes searched within himself, even as their gazes were locked. Because, unlike the others…he listened.
"...I admit…I didn't investigate. What I saw was pretty damning…is there more to this?" he asked.
Unlike Apollo or Hermes who lied or manipulated what she would see, he was open.
"There is. But I don't know the specifics. From what little I know, this…Medusa is not entirely innocent."
"...but therein lies the problem, isn't it, Artemis?"
He scoffed, crossing his arms.
"What crime could she have committed that deserved transforming her body against her will? She took everything from her Artemis. A life, her humanity, everything."
"..."
In this, she had nothing to say and relief finally seeped through her shoulders. Hephaestus was as steady as he always was. Truthful to a degree but unyielding in his own virtues. Artemis even agreed with Hephaestus, to a point. For while Medusa may not have been a pure, innocent, and blissful bystander…she was still human. Now? Now she was not. She was a monster, cursed to live with the stain of Athena's judgment for the rest of her time.
"If she allowed Poseidon in. If she allowed him to defile her temple freely…I'd…I'd understand severe punishments, but this?"
The idea of forcibly transforming Medusa into the Gorgon was one that made his skin crawl. It reminded him too much of the chains that bore on EMIYA…of the colors that man had become under Alaya's influence. The skin and hair were of his own lifestyle, but the mark on EMIYA's soul was one that would never wash away. Even if the man was freed from her clutches under his own power, Hephaestus doubted EMIYA would have lived much. Just the same rusted machine. Now Medusa had to bear something against her will as well.
"So you fought her? Did you seriously think you can strong arm Athena into reversing her own curse? Curses like that are not simple to reverse, Hephaestus. Not to mention the insult of even attempting…to…"
She stilled, realizing something as Hephaestus scowled.
"You did it yourself."
He looked at her, truly this time.
"You actually succeeded!" she whispered in shock.
She was…distraught. It was aggravating to see her like this. It didn't make any sense to him. Every moment that he had seen Artemis was one with dignity and surety. Seeing her like this was more irksome than he'd admit. Not only because it was odd, but mostly because of the consequences of it.
Amongst the Gods…it was Artemis that he found he trusted most. He may have talked with Athena and Ares more often, true, but with Artemis, he was more comfortable. Dionysus kept trying to get him drunk, and ever since Apollo attempted to "fix" him, he wanted nothing to do with him.
Artemis was the only one whose opinion he found…mattered. He held his hand to her. It stung a bit, the way she became wary. Perhaps it was Karma for his own distance, a taste of his own medicine.
"You said there were rumors. You have doubts," he said simply.
"What of it? I've heard your side of the story."
"You heard pieces and have made assumptions," he grumbled.
The silence was aggravating, but one that was thankfully short.
"I know what it is like to carry doubts for others," he pressed, "I don't want you to be mired in that same place I am."
He felt it, the way his core became unshrouded. Artemis stilled, eyeing the fractured intertwining energy that made Hephaestus, Hephaestus.
"...what are you doing?" she whispered.
"...You asked me to remember Niobe. I do remember."
He pressed on, urging her to listen as he continued.
"You said if it wasn't for me stopping you…that you'd have killed those children."
He shook his head, looking into her eyes, firm in his belief.
"I was not the one who struck Apollo's arrow. I was not the one who denied her mother's demands. Nor was I the one who protected the children of a woman who scorned Leto. Those are choices you made for yourself. Whatever inspiration my words may have carried…it was you that acted them out."
His arm glowed as the cracks spread, the flames sputtering out of the crevices of his skin.
"You speak of trust…and truthfully, we have none for either of us. I never touched Athena in that way…but words are cheap."
She hesitated.
"...I believe you," she muttered, looking away.
"It's not about belief. It's about trust. I admit, the idea of any god near the people that I've come to care for makes me uneasy. They don't deserve to be harmed or manipulated simply because of their association with me. But…trust is to be given. They say amongst our kind that the sharing of a core is a sign of just that. Look. Look and see from my perspective."
If he was honest, he wasn't entirely sure if that was actually a thing Gods could do with each other. Styx was dead silent and he could feel that she wouldn't get involved, no matter how he prodded her mentally. Instead, he waited, noting the disbelief that fractured the serenity that was Artemis.
For a moment, she felt weightless. Her hand touched his own and she saw his spark in its entirety.
What made Hera such an effective queen was her ability to read the entirety of a person's history without the need to see their divine core. It was an immensely powerful political tool. Amongst more normal gods, this was how they could see one another, in the entirety. In her life, Artemis had only seen three. Leto's, Apollo's, and Zeus'. All were seamless and beautiful. Delicate and artistic.
To see one's core was to see all of them.
Not a single one of them allowed her to view their history. It took time to do so, and for all their love…it was time they didn't give her. She bit her lip, her hand shaking from the embarrassment of her worst memory.
In the final days of her time with her mother, she and Apollo made a promise to one another to show each other their cores. They were twins; it only made sense. He poked and prodded, saw all that she was, just as she was.
Yet…when she did the same, her brother shut her out. A view…and nothing more.
It was why she kept her distance from her brother. Within him, she could see the pettiness and the greed. His affection, genuine, but possessive. There was a cruelty to his love. A selfishness to it. A pettiness she couldn't abide…not after that.
What did it matter if one was cruel like a bear or cruel like a tiger? Cruelty was cruelty, no matter its depth or shape. He needed to be different. The first male God that she genuinely felt little aversion to…if he wasn't…if he was just like her brother.
…then that was another family lost.
Yet, for all that she was prepared to see…this was far from it.
If Apollo had shielded himself from her view after a moment, Hephaestus exploded.
The beauty was neither soft nor delicate. It was fire, a searing heat wrapped around a rugged core of stone and metal. A screaming whirlwind of power and smoke. A swirl of colors sputtered in the centre, seeping from the cracked exterior. It was not a beautiful thing, but a weeping cracked wound.
Yet, nothing leaked. It was still whole. It was an aberration. An impossibility. Yet, undeniably, it was here. His mortal half represented the very pieces that shouldn't be. If every divine core were a lofty, swirling mass of colors and shades. The fact that one could see rock and metal…it was alien, that was for sure.
She wasn't physically present here. There was no shape in the realm that the Gods embodied in the astral plane. Yet, her presence 'touched' the cracked exterior of Hephaestus' core, and was swirled away.
He was so open that she was entirely unprepared. The sea of flames swept her along and she saw it all. Everything. She didn't mean to, but it was all there. She saw a small child, a teenager, and a young adult. It was a blurry mess, barely any details. But it felt the same.
Lonely.
Isolated.
Loathing so deep and caustic that she wasn't sure if it was aimed at himself or Hera.
Then her chest screamed at her, a jagged piece of metal spearing her through. She looked down to see the chest of Hephaestus, the shard of metal that changed everything. What had once been blurry now focused sharply. Images flew past her rapidly, but she could see each for what they were.
His legs were severed. By his own hand. The phantom pain digging into her legs.
The python being slain.
The loss of Calliope. Her stomach twisted in a grieving maelstrom.
Meeting Ifrit. A connection that brought completion.
Kassandra. The friend that was dependable, if annoying.
The people he had come to care for on this island.
It was not a chronological experience.
It took a moment for her to direct her experience, to drive her curiosity to the back of her mind and instead focus on what it was that he wanted her to see.
Athena.
Their conflict.
It was all laid bare. How he felt, the way that he saw it all. She had heard that Hera had some minor gift for prophecy. It would seem Hephaestus shared a fragment of that power. He seemed so self-assured that Medusa was a victim, so assured he didn't even think to investigate. That confidence swelled in her breast, the heat of it more comforting than she wanted to admit.
Yet, it felt hollow. It was not a confidence of the self, but rather of…something else. Like a story that he knew the outcome of. Yet, with her own memories, she knew that to be false. Hephaestus was so confident that he did not realize that someone else had taken pen to paper, that the story was no longer what he knew.
She felt the doubt. The pain. The Fear.
More importantly, she felt the resolve. The dedication.
Than utterly sinful sex and the pleasure of a mouth on her-
"GAH!"
She turned from him with such force the winds detonated with a resounding thud. He stumbled back, he shook his head, holding his chest. A crack across his sternum and pecs glowed silver for a moment before sealing closed.
"Artemis?"
"You had sex!" she groaned, heaving as if she was throwing up…
"...what."
"You…I…you were supposed to be like me!" she muttered, her voice dipped in hysteria.
"Artemis, what on earth are you talking about?"
"You and Hecate! I need Lethe's waters!"
He sighed, rubbing his eyes. He noted that Artemis was no longer the full-grown woman that she usually presented herself to be.
Instead, she seemed a tad younger, more immature. It was also readily apparent by the way she was viciously rubbing her eyes, the desperate attempt to destroy the image of what she had seen.
"I told you to look only–"
"You know nothing!" she shivered, "I need to bathe, I need to be cleansed!"
"...it was not that bad," he muttered.
"You are! You're disgusting, the two of you are!"
She took a shuddery breath, her body growing back to her adult state as she breathed out. She shivered, yapping her jaw as if trying to disperse a horrid taste from her tongue. There was zero chance he was the one who spread that rumor. He was almost tempted to say it was any of the spirits that resided within him that spread the rumor. If anything, the most likely culprit was Hecate herself…or at least one of her apprentices.
He didn't rightly care, finding no shame in it. He just didn't like talking about it.
"Does it matter…wait."
It struck him dumb at that moment, his eyes wide.
"Like you? Do…did you think I wished to remain a virgin?"
Her scowl grew, the adorable blush on her now freckled cheeks spreading.
"That! It…"
She didn't speak anymore, unwilling to embarrass herself further. In some ways, he found himself rather flustered at the idea. Honoured to, if only in the thought she considered including him in that little club.
But…that wasn't going to happen. Not to mention that ship sailed.
"I'm afraid that won't be happening," he said, smirking.
Whatever tension had remained between them had died. There was barely any semblance of control between either of them, the older of the two barely able to look him in the eye. Artemis ran her hair behind her ear, giving him the stink eye.
"I'm…more than aware of that. Just drop it, please."
He bowed his head, and Artemis was quick to capitalize on it, changing the subject. Well…she tried anyway. She felt pressured for the first time in her life. Her own core fluttered open for a moment, only for a soft hand to rest on her head. She looked up at him, her face slowly twisting into a raised eyebrow of rage.
"You don't need to do that," he smiled, "truly."
"...I'm older than you," she growled, "do not treat me like a child!"
He blinked, and to her subjective horror, booped her. A small tap on her nose. He smirked, leaning forward.
"Says the one acting like a child. Just because I bore my core to you, does not mean you must do the same. Trust is given. You do not need to show me just to reciprocate. The gesture is enough."
"But…that…you…"
He tapped his chest, his solemn expression melding with the timbre of the rain.
"I bared my core to alleviate your suspicions, Artemis. We are Gods. Manipulating the truth is something we are capable of…even me," he admitted.
If he thought it was for a greater good…he'd probably do it. It was easy to say that one would be entirely honest. But if lying would save a life…he'd do it in a heartbeat. Circumstances determine everything.
He'd rather the rumors simply be done away with…but he doubted it. Knowing Dionysus, this was another attempt at getting him to explode, as he put it. He wasn't sure where the obsession with making him lose control came from, but he attributed that to the wine god's domains rather than anything utterly malicious.
If anyone believed that rumor, he had zero doubt Zeus would be as quiet as he was.
Hell…he doubted his island would be left standing.
Apollo was a different story. He was angry, probably pissed that he hadn't come to visit since they had separated…but the Sun God was not someone Hephaestus could trust.
"...We have to go see Athena."
"Why?" asked Hephaestus, "there's little point in making the situation worse. Athena will–"
"She hasn't been seen in days," she whispered, "not spoken to anyone, nothing. She would have crushed these rumors herself. It's insulting for both of you. Yet…"
"She's silent."
That was unusual. Considering how she reacted to the Medusa scenario, Hephaestus did find it strange that she was now silent.
"...will you come with me?" he asked.
"You'd want a witness to this debacle?" muttered Artemis.
"You're a third party, one that I know and trust. I know Athena trusts you as well. With you present…she may deign to see me. Either that or just you. Either way, we can check on her."
There were no words needed between them. The embarrassment and gratitude mixed in a noxious swirl, words neither needed nor wanted to continue.
If anything, Artemis was grateful for the change of venue, instantly teleporting the two where they needed to be. He grumbled as he appeared at the edge of Athena's territory. The cool feeling of her divinity laced in the atmosphere was entirely undetectable to humans. Yet, to Hephaestus and Artemis, it was a sign of something grave.
Great effort had been taken, great enough that the entire region had pilfering amounts of her divinity. They were silent, their own power mixing to gain entry.
To Hephaestus' shock, his was seamless. Too seamless. Like a back door had just opened only for him. This was not Athena's authority. Which was precisely why he turned to Artemis instead of moving forward.
"You were right," he said gravely.
"This is recent. There's nothing else I can sense either. Athena ne–"
The realm shuddered to them, the easement of her rules splintering to pieces. Artemis took a hesitant step, feeling no boundary against her being.
"..."
They only looked forward. Concern marred every moment as Artemis gripped his shoulder and rushed them to Athena's temple. Even with the sun blazing above them, the world around them was dull. Shades of indifferent grey to their perspective. The people around them cared little; the bending of the mists was more than enough to obscure even the partly mortal Hephaestus. As Artemis gave her dues, he looked around.
Humans were as humans are. Smiling, laughing, angry, even spiteful. Nothing was out of the ordinary for them. This grey-scaled world is completely absent from their everyday lives. To them, it must have seemed like any other day.
To Artemis and Hephaestus…color had died. Sapped away by the byproduct of Athena's power. Her temple was the bleakest, absent of the colors of life. They hesitated, but eventually they both walked to the temple. It was devoid of any priestesses, an oddity all things considered.
The world melted away, a seamless transition, and they stood before the Goddess of War. Her space had become less defined. Merely a white space devoid of any material possessions. Just Athena…and a box she held in her hands. She turned to face them. Her inked hair fell straight down her shoulders, unbraided. Even so, there was not a hair out of place. A grey toga hugged her, wrapping around her shoulders and waist loosely.
Cradled in her arms was a large box, riddled with sigils. This was not normal magic, but a byproduct of Athena's own divine craftsmanship. While rough compared to Hecate, it was still an item of considerable skill.
"Artemis. Hephaestus," she nodded.
"You're…okay?"
"Of course."
Her tone was bland. Her entire body seemed relaxed on the surface, as if she didn't have a care in the world…and that was precisely the problem.
Care.
Her eyes moved to Hephaestus and nothing moved. Artemis engaged her in conversation but Hephaestus turned his attention instead to Athena's stalwart companion. The silly affectionate bird was nowhere to be seen. In its place was instead a piercing set of eyes, locked onto him in a dreadful staring contest.
Hephaestus had always assumed what Athena had been doing. His connection to Ifrit gave him greater insight than others in the matter. Yet, to have it confirmed was a dreadful thing altogether.
Yet, his hasty judgment had brought him this mess…so he clenched his fist and stayed silent for now.
"You've always had a knack for giving me surprises."
His head snapped to her cold voice, her disinterested eyes staying locked on his own.
"A lesson learned, hmm? Not that it matters. I've been meaning to see you. We have a problem," She stated simply.
Artemis reached for her sister, yet as she turned away from her, the Goddess of the Hunt could only shake her hands at Hephaestus. He had so much he wanted to ask, to confirm, yet as the weight of that box filled his hands, he felt something.
It nipped at his core, pulled at him in a way that felt… otherworldly. Nothing in EMIYA's memories came close to this feeling. His hand shook a bit, his eyes narrowing at the offending appendage. He placed it firmly on the lid of this strange casket-looking box, eyeing Athena.
"What is this?" he asked, "How is this a problem?"
"You are no fool. It's not the box Hephaestus…I trust you'll listen when you open it? You owe me that courtesy."
Artemis was with them as he opened the lid.
"Grbl."
It was the first sound from the babe's mouth that he had ever heard. It was a babe, at least a few months born. A small tuft of red hair like his own was spattered across her skull. She was wrapped in grey blankets, and her eyes opened to reveal orbs of amberous hue. Unlike Hephaestus', whose eyes glowed a piercing gold, his daughter's amber hue was more subtle, demure even. They were more akin to EMIYA's in his youth, when he had accepted the name Shirou as his own.
"Hephaestus?"
His hand reached in, his finger softly tracing the child's face.
"She's soft," he thought.
He didn't know why he knew her gender, only that he knew. That same pull on his core was stronger now…accompanied by the one in his heart.
"Hephaestus!"
The child grabbed his finger, her grip light as she gurgled, Yet…the child did not smile. Her face was as blank as…he looked up. Athena nodded.
"..You…did this?" he asked.
"Not by choice," she muttered, "when I duplicated your blueprint, I stored it within the opposite region of my reproductive centers."
She gestured to her stomach.
"In a human form, my core's design would have placed it here, as the norm. My own circumstances reversed that place, leaving my natural centers here."
Her finger tapped her skull.
"An oversight. I had depended too much on my study of Father's aetherology than my own. Our conflict ignited a spark in the design that I was hypothesising…resulting in her."
His hand reached in, cupping her skull.
"I understand this is a grievous misuse of your biology, Hephaestus…I have no–"
"She's beautiful," he whispered.
Artemis smiled a bit, her own domains soaring at the affection he had for his daughter. His laughter was choked as he kept staring at her. Any thought was overwhelmed by the bundle within this box. The voices of the rivers were dulled. Nothing else mattered. His core was rampantly reaching out to the small tapping, gripping it tight. The connection between them cemented. A small circle formed above her, a hazy shape that couldn't rightly be viewed. Only the distinct shade of a hammer could be made out as the thunderous clang of an anvil echoed in this chamber.
"You claimed her so readily?" muttered Athena, "It is not confirmed that your body traps divinity just yet."
He reached it, only for Athena to grip his shoulder.
"Don't."
He was confused, then concerned.
"...the problem better not be this child."
The aggression in his tone did nothing; her head tilted in that strange little habit.
"The child is not the problem; rather, the problem is with the child. You think that I isolated myself for three days simply because I bore a child?"
She tapped the side of the box, the sigils glowing for a moment.
"I've tried my best…but this child is faulty."
The box cracked under his grip, an unbridled rage forming in his mind that threatened to eat away at any bit of sanity he had.
Faulty?
FAULTY!?
How dare she!?
Unwanted came the memory of that same cold expression, his throat aching as he cried out to a hand that disappeared as he fell.
"Athena!"
He wasn't alone in that horror, Artemis' own expression livid.
"How dare you! That's your own child!"
"And she is faulty. She has endured nothing but pain since she was born," stated Athena.
The hand that was slowly taking her out of the box stilled. The plan to simply run to his island and protect her withered. All that was left was steel.
"Explain."
If Athena could feel it…she would have been pleased. The way his gaze sharpened, the way those useless emotions flattened themselves. If she had a heart, it would probably swell.
"Physically…she is perfect."
Athena leaned forward, lightly touching her daughter's face. Much like Hephaestus, a sigil formed above her head, one with its own hazy symbol of an owl.
"Hmm…could be better," she muttered.
She withdrew her hand, ignoring the way her child attempted to keep her hand.
"The pain is not physical. There is no biological or chemical reason I can find that explains it."
"You're sure it's painful?"
They turned and Hephaestus blinked. If anything, he was the most owlish there. Artemis had once been a thin, willowy woman. Yet, without changing in any way, she had become a matron. The feel of her entire being had shifted from a young huntress to an experienced mother. He raised a brow as she looked within the box. Hephaestus decided this day that the Gods were just weird and it made no sense to question it anymore.
"She's beautiful," she praised.
She looked to Hephaestus, seeking permission. A smile grew at his quick assent. A soft hand touched the child, a silvery glow wrapped around her body.
"There's something deeper than just pain."
"Precisely why she's in the crucible," muttered Athena, "It prevents whatever is occurring from progressing further, while also dulling the pain."
"...and you've just…sat here?" questioned Hephaestus.
"Of course. I do not trust the likes of Apollo with my children. For all his talents, he is ultimately selfish in what he deems acceptable for treatment. For all I know, he'd sooner kill the child than save it."
A fair point.
"Hera is the only other entity I can think of that has any bearing on what constitutes an expert on self-made children. While we are both components of our child's makeup, her conception is far from natural. My choices were limited."
"Then you should have–"
He took a sharp breath. He turned to her, holding his child's crate closely to his chest. He kept replaying the faces of all that he knew, wondering of any solution for his daughter. He nodded, turning to Athena.
"I might have someone who could help. I can invite her here but–"
"No."
He reached back, her dull eyes never moving an inch.
"My realm has already shouldered more than it can take. Another iota of divinity and my barriers are likely to shatter. I refuse for Poseidon to have another inground with my realms like before."
"...then I can keep her here and get some answers, we can figure this out, Athena!"
She only held a hand.
"My time with her is almost done. It has been three days consistently and our daughter has already become saturated in my power. Any more and we run the risk of catastrophic failure. It is best to remove her from my presence as quickly as possible."
"Athena, you can't just!"
"I'm not leaving her," she said airily, "I am merely leaving her in the care of her father. In your care. In ideal circumstances, she would have never been born without your knowledge…but here we are. Accidental she may be, but she is mine as well as yours. Do not let those emotions cloud your judgment. If you believe someone can be of assistance ,then go do what you must. She is yours to care for as much as mine."
It was so detached…yet the logic of her words was true. But the choice wasn't his. The world twisted them out, leaving the two Gods on the outside of Athena's temple once more.
"...there's more to this," growled Artemis, "she's avoiding us!"
"That's not important."
He knelt to the ground, his eyes closed.
"Hecate."
There was a shudder.
"Hecate."
There was a truth to the rule of three beyond mere symmetry.
"Hecate!"
A power deep enough to grant greater strength to even something like a name. Artemis was dragged along as the space around them twisted once more. Yet, his eyes never left the face of his daughter. Her pudgy cheeks and those dull gold eyes. He kept his hand on her face, letting her bask in the warmth he carried.
They were in Hecate's home, the Goddess back to them.
"If I knew you'd be desperate for my attention, I would have let you stay," she said sultrily.
She turned, holding a simple tea in her hand. Yet, her eyes were wide as she looked at Artemis.
"...Artemis?" she muttered.
"Lady Hecate," she bowed.
He couldn't care less what sort of relationship they had with each other. The bowing and whatnot didn't matter. He abruptly moved towards her, cradling his child.
"Hecate, I need you. I…my daughter…she."
He kept his core wide open, not caring at all what she saw or felt. Only surging his need for her. The goddess of Witchcraft looked to the bundle in the crate, eying the enchantments. The vessel in her hands floated away, carried with a gesture to some far-off table.
"You've been busy," she said dryly.
"This isn't the time for jokes. No, I didn't assault or have sex with Athena. This is my child. I've been told that if she leaves this…this crate that–"
"She'll be in pain. I can see the sigils. It's rather interesting work, if crude. Give her here."
Her eyes softened at the grip he held, the slight protective gesture of his shoulders moving inward. Was it odd that she found it so sweet and endearing?
"We can simply place her back in…but the truth is that we can't help her without seeing the problem first hand. Knowing you, you'd only come to me with a problem you couldn't fix. I doubt the issue is physical."
"..."
He hesitated…but there was truth to this. To help her, they needed to know what they were dealing with. He held her under his hand, cringing as he slowly lifted her out of the box. Her horrid screams were instant, her beautiful eyes cringing in pain as her small voice echoed in the room.
He desperately wanted to take it away! His hands glowed with nothing to show for it. Instead, he held her close to his chest, bringing her to Hecate.
A delicate hand across her brow, a prodding finger across her lips, and a wave of her hand.
"Interesting," she muttered, "no curses. No ailments. Nothing."
"There has to be something!"
She waved her hands once more…but this time removed her veil. The sigils around her delicate mouth glowed, turning like a lock opening.
"Grant me sight."
The words echoed, fracturing her walls with the mere power of her words.
"...poor child," she whispered.
"What? What is it?"
"Her soul is displaced, yet firmly with her body. The pain isn't physical but astral. She…feels it, in a way. Her physical body interrupts this…schism as pain. Hence why it affects her. Place her back in the crate."
The cries ceased, leaving only whimpers in their wake as Hephaestus softly placed her down.
"...solutions?" he asked.
"Only one…and it's not a solution at all. Not one you would be able to accomplish…nor me for that matter."
She held a hand up at the indignant glare.
"It's not a matter of possibility but feasibility. We'd have to sever her soul from the body and then manually realign it. Yet, what would happen the moment you severed a soul?"
"...she dies," he grumbled.
"Yes. Contrary to what humans may believe, your soul leaving your body is not possible. Your consciousness, perhaps, but not your soul."
"So she'll die?" he whispered.
"...she's stable…which shouldn't be possible."
"...will she die?" stressed Hephaestus.
"No," she said simply, "her soul showed no signs of deviation typical of her situation."
She didn't want to admit that the girl's situation shouldn't even be a thing to begin with. Yet, her father was a similar impossibility…as was Athena.
"For all intents and purposes it is merely pain."
"If we get rid of the pain, can she live a normal life?" asked Artemis.
As if noticing her for the first time, Hecate acknowledged her with a nod.
"Of course. But that won't be feasible for a few years. The rituals to transfer pain require the blood of the recipient–"
SHINK!
The sound of blood splurging to the floor made Artemis jump back. Hecate only sighed as she rubbed her brow, ignoring the crude sight of a sword jutting from Hephaestus' shoulder.
"As I was saying," she grumbled, pushing the sword into his body with mystical force, "the blood of the recipient and the child herself. No babe can endure the loss of blood needed for the ritual."
"How old would she have to be?" asked Hephaetus.
"An adult. Barely. I've accomplished the ritual twice, with one time the transferee dying in the process."
She rubbed her chin, her veil swirling around her face to settle in front of her mouth. The sigils also twisted back to their original orientation.
"...There's an alternative?"
"...possibly," she explained, "but it would require diluted divine blood and that is difficult to come by."
"Diluted how," he muttered.
She struggled with the words, which just deepened the pit in his stomach.
"Diluted…is too strong a word. Think filtered or strained. The potency has been reduced without sullying the divine elements within it."
"...I understand."
"You do?"
"You're talking about reducing the potency without removing what makes it divine in the first place."
"Is that possible?"
"To an extent," said Hecate, "though the methods we have available fracture the divinity within it. We need something that can be stable. Most means of reducing the potency of divinity in spells and environments result in their eventual erosure. We can't have that happening. The moment the source is gone, the remaining bits of spellwork would ravage the host body."
"Think of it like reducing the flavor in soup by adding water," explained Hephaestus.
Suddenly she stilled, eyeing Hephaestus. His concern only grew with the way her eyes narrowed. Like he was less an individual and more a material.
"Your blood would be perfect."
"So what's the problem," he all but growled.
"The synergy. I doubt you would transfer your daughter's pain to someone else."
The idea of forcing someone to endure his daughter's pain was not something Hephaestus would allow. She deserved a full life, but not one at the cost of some random innocent.
"I won't involve someone else," he growled.
"I know. So our method must use a different source, hence our current predicament. The best we can do with what we have is put the child in a sort of stasis."
She'd be asleep for decades as she grew, her entire life ripped from her. Memories came unbidden, of a boy whose life had been torn from him by a ravenous flame…of a childhood stripped of any childish enjoyments…only responsibility. He was loved perhaps…but the boy was no child.
That was not a life he wanted for her. His eyes drifted to the babe in his arms, his eyes growing hard.
"...does the blood have to be human?" he asked.
"Excuse me?"
She eyed the way Hephaestus and Artemis looked at each other. An idea that formed between them.
"Answer the question."
"Nature doesn't matter, in theory.
She smirked.
"You have something?"
He turned to her. His eyes smoldered with the gravity of his decision and the hope it inspired.
"I do. Hecate…I…I would entrust my child with kassandra but…"
"I know," whispered Hecate. "You would have me swear?"
"Yes."
"Then be assured. This child is under my protection. No harm will come to her no matter the direction it may come from. Even if from my own coven."
His words suddenly shuddered, the walls fracturing at the weight. Her veil erupted in green flames, her mouth unobstructed.
"So I swear upon the moon and the styx."
The thunder echoed, but it was the way Artemis stilled. Her eyes were silver, narrowing. Something unsaid between them, but he didn't care. Hecate smiled softly, finding his hesitance sweet. Gods were quick to forsake their children, baring some.
Ironically it was his brother that came to mind for how similar they were in this regard.
"How both were born to such a hateful Goddess I'll never know," she thought to herself.
His arms shook, his eyes never leaving the child, his child.
His shoulders tensed, as rusted steel was unsheathed once more. He turned, his eyes cold and hard.
"Artemis," he said, "show me this dragon