Chapter Text
People forget.
Love is the first emotion, the first sensation discernable at the core of humanity.
More importantly, love was the founding of the Parthenon, an agreement of peace, when there had been war.
Most importantly, she was the beginning.
*
People forget. She does not.
(she cannot.)
*
Born from an act of violence, rising amid sea foam, she stepped down onto Earth, cast her gaze on mortals, and smiled.
She had nothing but herself, in the beginning. Nothing but the lap of the eternal sea, the old titans at war among the heavens, as Aphrodite rose from the sea, and plucked love from the tapestry of vivid emotions surrounding her.
***
Love curdles stomachs, turns heads. Hailed as the strongest emotion, love slinks through people's veins, settles in their stomachs.
She soothes, barters, persuades, mocks, falters, falls short.
She touches hatred, leaves inky fingertips in despair, fogs the mind.
She is everything. She is nothing.
***
No one ever wonders what Aphrodite sees when she gazes into a mirror.
Love desires love, and has nothing to show for it.
***
She is the oldest, and it would do everyone well to remember that.
***
When the other Gods rose up around her, she greeted them with smiles and openness, admiring them all as they joined her in the palace of Olympus.
The scorn she faced, the disrespect of her standing.
There was no consideration for the first God.
There was only the might and power of men, as they misunderstood the core of the woman standing among them.
***
She heard the scoffs, knew the rumors.
She was a harlot. She was a temptation. She was open to only those who met her standard. She was a bitch to all. She was frivolous, and needy, and lecherous, and a devil, wrapped into a beautiful woman.
She knew that King Zeus sought to punish her, sought to see her ruin in a marriage, as she had supposedly ruined his.
She had no words for those who failed so spectacularly at understanding her.
She was not the cause of any sort of broken bonds between Zeus and Hera, not the cause of any dalliances. She strengthened love.
((Love.) (not lust.))
*
Love. noun.
An intense feeling of deep affection.
*
She did nothing to keep those in love, truly in love. She just kept those who fed her, who loved truly, deeply, and without reservation, well-protected.
It was not her fault that the Goddess of Marriage was unable to keep their love strong.
Love gives to love. Unhappiness gives to nothing.
***
When Hephaestus was thrown from the Mount, tossed out by the Queen, she paid no mind.
She was busy, whispering words of truth in women who sought themselves, busy sliding into dusty taverns and granting mortals drops of love, busy doing what she did best; spreading herself to others.
She may have been called harlot, but she was truer of her purpose than most Gods ever even came close to.
***
"By my word, by these bonds, I see you bond to each other," Zeus said, his smile ominous, as Hera smirked over his shoulder, the two of them in clear harmonious unification for once, as they tied Aphrodite to Hephaestus to each other.
Neither looked the other in the eye as the final chain of the bond snapped into place. Aphrodite's heart tethered just barely to herself as she felt the damage of an unloving bond slither into her soul.
***
Love is felt in all forms. In all ways.
***
The first weeks and months of marriage were painful.
Slowly, slowly, Aphrodite rose out of the embers, strengthening herself, tugging on the flowers that had bloomed under her influence, gathering her power under herself, until she was as complete as she could be with a bleeding heart and sweaty palms.
She strode forward, down the streets of Olympus, her head held high and her gaze fixed on the burning forges set deep in the mountain.
She ignored the vile whispers trailing her, ignored the curled lips.
She knew who she was. It was not her fault that those around her were blind.
***
She lingered in the mouth of the cave, smoothing her fingers over her white dress, reaching up once to tuck one curl behind her ear, before she felt the hair shift to straight smooth strands.
She sighed, letting it go and stepping into the warmth of the darkened cave, her gaze fixed on the flicker of flames at the end of the passageway.
Slowly, her eyes adjusted, until she was at the entrance into the forge, her gaze catching at once on each dazzling blow her husband struck on the white-hot metal, his face set into a scowl.
"Put it here," he said, keeping his eyes on the blade, before he reached out and gently touched the metal, manipulating it with the quickest touch.
At his motion, she gasped and strode into the room, ignoring the look on his face as she entered.
"This?" She asked, breathing in once and spinning in a circle, her eyes drifting over tools and fires and half crumpled ideas on parchment, littering the floor. "This?" She closed her eyes, ignoring the sound of him shifting to his feet, and sucked in another breath, the smoke lingering in her airways, until she felt she could taste the materials in the air.
She opened her eyes, darting to his side. "I apologize," she said, the non-sequitur sincere enough to make him pause in his words. "I had not realized," she said, her eyes never staying one color as they looked steadily into his. "Of course there would be no room," she muttered to herself, shaking her head at her foolishness. "Of course."
She grinned at him, taking in his confused look, and hefted him to his feet, spinning around him once, her dress flaring out in a sharp swirl. "Will you teach me?" She asked, pausing to look at him.
"Teach you?" He repeated, his voice a low rumble of distrust. "Teach you what?"
"Oh," Aphrodite said, pausing to smile brighter than she had before. "Why the ways of the forge, of course."