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Nyssa held the sword to the whetstone with a surreptitious grin as sparks flew off the blade. She still had to etch it, but it held an edge well and the balance was good. And the hilt wasn't half pretty, if you asked her.
Being a child of Hephestus meant that she was a natural at crafting and machinery, but on her own, she'd developed skills more associated with the aesthetic than just the practical. Working a forge, working with metal gave her many opportunities to create more than just weapons. The Aphrodite cabin alone had bought out her entire stock by themselves of celestial bronze rings with spiked tips in the shapes of flowers or crowns or any other weaponised design. Sherman Yang had been working with her to create some fairly deadly knuckle dusters that could be disguised. He'd also requested a knuckle knife, but she was waiting on a new supply of celestial bronze before she did anything else.
Her (definitely secret from Mr D and Chiron) online shop couldn't keep any of its jewellery in stock, and she was heading out for several competitions and exhibitions in the next few months. Making fine weapons was one thing, and still impressive, even for a child of Hephestus, but making beautiful finely made weapons, with etched designs or carved hilts, was the goal for any of them that wanted to go into it professionally.
This sword though was one of the most beautiful she'd ever made, and she'd been well rewarded for it. Clarisse had brought the celestial bronze herself - from hunting down a rogue automaton apparently - and the initial design, although Nyssa had made some edits for the sake of practicality. Considering her macho persona, Clarisse had had a pretty good eye for design, but Nyssa didn't think that was too surprising, considering that this was part of a proposal.
She really hoped Silena liked it, because she and Clarisse had poured their blood, sweat and tears - all very literally - into it. She’d doubled her order for bandages and antiseptic, in addition to nectar and ambrosia in the past few weeks. m
“When are you going to do it?” She asked, when Clarisse came in at night, to hide who she was visiting. Nyssa hoped Silena wouldn't get the wrong idea about why she was coming to the forge so secretly, but she supposed she did have the physical proof of why which would save them from being cursed by a daughter of Aphrodite. Cabin Ten kids could do some nasty stuff with love as long as they knew what they were about, and Silena Beauregard knew what she was about more than anything. Nyssa wasn't… scared of her. But she would never fuck with her, all the same.
Gods, she hoped she liked the sword. Otherwise she might just use it to do in both Clarisse and Nyssa.
It was a lovely sword though. The celestial bronze was some of the nicest Nyssa had touched, let alone worked with, but her dad's automatons usually had a higher quality than the garbage they were delivered officially from Olympus. Nyssa privately thought Camp Half Blood was their personal slag heap. Which stood for both the metal, and the demigods, frankly.
“When you've done it.” Clarisse's eyes were wide as she took it in. She had a warrior's eye, not a blacksmith's but she knew that she understood how well this weapon was made all the same. “I've written my speech already.”
“Oh yeah?” Nyssa didn't take her eye off the now dying fire. The last thing they needed was to set the forge on fire for the sixteenth time this month. “I think- give me a week. It should be done by then.” It would be done in three days, but she had other reasons to be holding off on delivery.
“Silena,” Clarisse said, clasping her hands together over the hilt of the sword she had buckled at her waist, presumably something that the mist had hidden from Silena’s doorman at her apartment. “We’ve been… I’ve been. I love you, and I want to be with you, and when I die I want to be buried with you and have our ashes intermingled forever.”
“Are we planning a joint funeral or are you getting somewhere else with this?”
“Will you marry me?” She looked mildly ill, which Silena was putting down to nerves.
“I- I- but-” Clarisse started unbuckling the belt at her waist that held the sword, and then paused. Her eyes widened, “Yes! But- I- fuck. I had a thing planned.”
“I’m confused.”
“Yes! Gods! I’ll marry you,” she reached out as if to kiss an incredibly nonplussed Clarisse, and paused, jumping off her bed to rummage under it, and pull out the thing she had hidden there.
A spear. She’d initially wanted one of the Hecate kids to enchant it, but Nyssa offered when she commissioned the spear, and Silena had seen her weapon enchantments. Once she’d made arrows for Lee Fletcher, before he died, that boomeranged back so he didn’t lose so many in a fight. Another time she’d made a flaming sword, although it had immediately been banned from Capture the Flag when too many campers got burned by it.
She handed it over to Clarisse like it was their firstborn child, cradling it in her hands. Clarisse beheld it as a relic, a thing of glory. “This is-”
“I was planning on proposing to you with it. I guess you beat me to it.”
“Who did you-” she turned it over in her hands, finding the maker’s mark, “ Nyssa? She didn’t tell me you were having her make me a spear!” She put it down, back into Silena’s hands, and started unbuckling the belt again, quicker than before, and handed it - sword and all - over to Silena too, taking the spear back to admire it. “I had her make this for you, to propose to you with.”
“Gods damn, she can really keep a secret.” Then she laughed, “I was only days away from proposing to you, I just hadn’t finished the speech. Or started it. I didn’t really know how to put it in words.”
Clarisse flopped back onto the bed, “As long as it wasn’t one of Lester Apollo’s terrible haiku’s, I’d be happy. If you ever wanted to write me a speech about how much you love me though, I’d listen. Enthusiastically. I like to think mine went pretty well though.”
“You started bringing up death and our ashes!”
“It was a reference to the Iliad! That’s what happened to Patroclus and Achilles’ ashes.”
“Aww babe. That’s so romantic.”
Clarisse grumbled a little, but she could see that she was smiling, “Shut up.”
“I can’t believe we’re engaged though. Like actually engaged to be married.”
“To be wed,” Clarisse said in a stupid voice that sounded like Chiron with a cold, “When did we grow up? This is proper adult shit now.”
“Well,” Silena said, blinking back emotions inappropriate to the situation, “Had to happen sometime.”
“Who said that?” Clarisse took off her suit jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, brandishing her engagement spear. “Which one of you lot said that?”
The five kids from Cabin Eleven who’d… apparently made it onto the guestlist somehow, all pointed at each other, in a pathetic attempt to cast blame off of themselves. It was all rather pathetic. But she had already seen who’d said it, and Travis Stoll was going to fucking pay for that. Stupid freckly motherfucker.
“Um… um. Um.”
“ Um. Um. Um.” She got right into his face as his siblings cleared off - even Connor who’d whispered “ good luck” before turning tail and essentially abandoning him. “Repeat it.”
“I- sorry Clarisse. I didn’t mean-”
“Then why did you say it?”
“Uh- it was funny?” He was sweating now, a bead travelling down his face from his temple that he was standing far too still to wipe away. Like if he stood still enough she’d forget he was there. Idiot. No wonder she’d always kicked his ass in any combat situation.
“Wrong answer,” she got out the spear, admiring the gleam of it in the torchlight. “I want satisfaction.”
“Satisfa- Clarisse, this a wedding?”
She nodded cooly, “I know. It’s my wedding. That you said that about my wife at.” There was something nice about saying my wife, and meaning Silena when she said it. Something inherently correct about that phasing. She was Silena’s, and Silena was hers. “Choose your weapons.”
He felt around, and the relief was clear on his face when he’d found his knives hidden in his clothing. “Are you using your spear then?” His voice had taken on a cadence of someone who already knew they were going to die. She wasn’t going to kill him though. If he was dying tonight it was either because he was technically exhibiting heart attack symptoms, or a bad oyster. She’d just kick his ass now.
“The spear, and the dagger now. Do you see it?” She brought it out, all shiny and beautiful, mirrored celestial bronze. She was getting all her weapons from Nyssa forever , if this was the work she produced. “Nice, isn’t it?” She brought it close to his skin, not quite touching it. That would be cheating, and she preferred kicking his ass in a fair fight.
Before she could name a place though and drag him off to it, they were interrupted, “Clarisse! What are you doing?” Her wife was fucking resplendent, changed from her ceremony dress into a reception one, a gold and white satin underdress with white lacework on top, and matching jewelry. She had her own wedding dagger, and somehow - Clarisse wasn’t entirely sure how, possibly because she’d been staring at her too much - got between her and Travis. “You can’t challenge someone to a duel at our wedding just because we proposed to each other with weapons.”
“Then what’s the point? Also, didn’t you hear what he said about you?”
“Yes, I did. That’s why I’m here,” she grinned with entirely too many teeth, turning to hold the dagger in the direction of a Travis who was probably about halfway to shitting himself, “Take it the fuck back Travis.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I said you looked like a goat Silena, you look lovely. Very nice dress. I’m sorry.”
She took the dagger away from his neck, smiling with a normal ratio of lip to teeth again, “Thank you Travis, the dress is very nice isn’t it? My mother had it made just for me. Very kind of her to do for our wedding, wasn’t it, babe?”
“Better than my dad’s suggestion for security,” Clarisse said. “I mean, I like a good weaponised explosive, but mines along the aisle were a bit much, I think. Although,” she said, getting a good eyefill of Travis, currently trying to step away quietly. “I mean…”
“Don’t say that baby,” Silena took her upper arm, “We’re missing the dancing right now, and the speeches will be soon, what will they say if we’re not there for that?”
“I have a few ideas about what they’ll say we’re doing.”
Her arm got punched, “Be serious, Clarisse. You wouldn’t want to miss your dad’s speech would you? I saw his notes, there’s a lot of weapon metaphors in there that I think you’ll get a kick out of.”
She sighed, she did love a weapon metaphor, “You know me so well.”
Her wife kissed her, “Of course I do. Now come on.” She allowed herself to be pulled back to the wedding, and only slightly hoped that someone would start a fight in order to liven things up. Unfortunately, Prissy was on his best behaviour all night, and Clarisse was nothing if not a good host for her wedding. And if anyone else compared Silena to a farm animal, they kept it out of hearing for good measure. They better not have, though.