Hephaestus -1-
From the towering heights of Olympus at the center of the world, the god who could not bless the marriage of Adamantia, Gaia, Echidna, and Heracles was not Zeus alone. Other gods besides Zeus were deeply displeased by this union. That god was none other than Hephaestus, the god of fire and blacksmithing, the legitimate son of Hera and Zeus, Olympus's foremost ugly man.
"Master and Heracles? Impossible!"
Hephaestus truly believed that. The marriage of Heracles and Adamantia had been a massive shock to him. Though he had married Aphrodite on Zeus's orders, just as Aphrodite had not wanted to marry Hephaestus, he too found such a marriage unwelcome. Unknown to anyone, he had been harboring feelings for his master.
That spot should have been mine.
He had thought Olympus's ugliest man and the Protogenoi's ugliest woman made a perfect match.
Only then could I become a complete lord god.
Hephaestus was the god of fire and blacksmithing, but only half of one. Copper, bronze, and brass were the limits of what he could handle. He could work orichalcum, but adamant was out of the question. Yet it was precisely because he was only half a blacksmith that Adamantia—who freely wielded iron and fire—was his perfect counterpart. His master, who silently hammered iron, and he, who could weave all sorts of magic with bronze and brass, were a flawless pair. At least, that's what Hephaestus believed.
"But what is this mess? I've become a complete laughingstock."
Now, however, that dream was shattered. Heracles had become a blacksmith who could work iron, and rumors said he had even developed a divine new quenching technique that stole his beloved master's heart completely.
But Hephaestus didn't believe such blatant lies. Clearly, Adamantia had been bewitched by Heracles and was covering it up. It had to be that way. It had to.
"Ah, Master... why did you not acknowledge my efforts? I resent you."
Hephaestus wasn't incapable of handling iron. His skill with meteoric iron from the heavens, occasionally found on earth, rivaled Adamantia's. But she showed no interest in his blood, sweat, and tears. She valued only wrought iron as true iron and prioritized melting it down—a horrific task requiring powerful winds and terrifyingly high temperatures, forcing reliance on Typhon's flames. This was an entirely different realm from working meteoric iron, brass, or bronze.
"But that doesn't mean bronze and brass are necessarily inferior to iron."
Just because it wasn't iron didn't make bronze and brass inferior. They were soft, but that softness allowed for diverse uses—mirrors, jewelry, and more. Their colors were beautiful, and they resisted corrosion better than iron. Iron wasn't an all-purpose metal; brass, bronze, and iron complemented one another. So he had no doubt that he and Adamantia were a match made in heaven.
Yet to end up like this, snared by Heracles's face—Hephaestus felt only resentment and betrayal toward his beloved master.
"If Mother arrives on the island of Sicily, I might never see Master again."
That was what men were like. They always guarded against males approaching their women. Though his face was Olympus's ugliest—a toad-like, ugly mug hardened by blacksmithing—his body, tempered by the forge, was no less impressive than Heracles's. His darkly tanned skin was proof of a skilled craftsman, scorched over long years at the anvil. Compared to Heracles's boyishly clean-shaven face, his beard—the symbol of masculinity—was fuller and thicker. Ugly as Hephaestus was, he firmly believed he lacked nothing in masculine appeal.
"That can't happen. No, it absolutely can't."
From the moment he heard of Adamantia's marriage, Hephaestus had resolved to sabotage it. It was the version of "If anyone objects to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace" where he did object and would speak now!
Hephaestus was a god of tremendous arm strength. He had never slacked in his daily forging or training. Ugly toad of a man though he was, he constantly cultivated his masculinity.
Yet his wretched wife Aphrodite ignored her husband's efforts despite knowing them. What a shameless woman.
"This isn't the time to dawdle. I have to head to the island of Sicily right now."
By now, Hera would be en route to Sicily. Miss this moment, and he'd lose his chance to object; Mother would recognize this mistaken marriage. That couldn't happen. Hephaestus had to hurry. He took to the skies in haste.
"In Hera's name, I ask you: Great three goddesses, do you truly take the Heracles here present as your spouse?"
"""Yes, without a doubt."""
"In Hera's name, I ask again: Heracles, do you truly take these great three goddesses here present as your spouses?"
"Yes, without a doubt."
Meanwhile, as Hera's son soared through the skies, tangled in a mess of emotions and tormented by anguish, Hera was presiding over the marriage of the powerful and mighty goddesses Adamantia, Echidna, and Gaia to Heracles.
Though the three goddesses outranked Hera in age and power, she was Olympus's queen, the goddess of marriage vows and hearth, mistress of all weddings. Thus, even the mighty three goddesses—and Heracles himself—addressed her with respect.
Hera, ever vexed by issues with Zeus, brimmed with authority that shook the space and assembly in this moment.
"Forget not that this marriage is solemnized in my name, Hera. Those who betray their oaths to one another shall be cursed under my name."
""""We shall remember, Lady Hera.""""""
"Forget not that the marriage vow is one of faith, trust, and love. Without faith, trust, and love, even a god shall pay the price."
""""That too we shall remember well, Lady Hera.""""""
"Very well. A fine answer. Thus I ask once more: Do you swear before me to spend your lives together, trusting and loving one another?"
""""Yes.""""""
The four gods' responses were perfectly synchronized, as if rehearsed. Though their time together had been short, their emotions and faith were anything but light.
"I, Adamantia, take Heracles as my spouse."
To Adamantia, Heracles was the first man she couldn't bear to lose.
"I, Echidna, take Heracles as my spouse."
To Echidna, he was the precious man who had promised to cherish her.
"I, Gaia, take Heracles as my spouse."
To Gaia, she hoped he would be the final man to heal her wounds.
"I, Heracles, take these three as my wives and shall never betray them."
To Heracles, they were the gracious benefactors who, over the past two years, had forged the modern soul possessing his body into the true Heracles—a new god—and his beloved, adorable lovers. He swore from the heart never to betray these beautiful wives, but to cherish and love them always.
"An excellent answer. I, Hera, have witnessed this marriage vow. The union of these four gods is sealed in my name."
""""Thank you, Lady Hera.""""""
"Now the final rite: If any here objects to this marriage, speak now before me. If you lack the courage to speak before me, remain silent forever. Violate this, and I shall curse you in my name."
Heracles found it amazing. Hera, an ancient Greek goddess, was saying words that sounded just like the ones from modern weddings—though far more ominous, the meaning was the same. With those words, this modest ceremony was reaching its end.
But then—
"Halt! I, Hephaestus, stake my name and object to this marriage!"
"What? Hephaestus! What madness is this? Do you know this marriage is under my name and commit this outrage?!"
"My mother! I have arrived at the perfect moment! O Hera, my mother, great guardian of hearth and marriage, I stake my name and cannot recognize this union."
"What did you say? Have you truly lost your mind, boy?!"
Hephaestus arrived just in time, shattering the joyous wedding. Hera, her authority challenged, bared her fury at him, but he stood firm. Though crushed by her immense divine power, he pointed at Heracles and bellowed.
"I, Hephaestus! In my name and the sanctity of this marriage, challenge you, Heracles, to a duel!"
On the eve of a great war, the clash between two mighty gods began over something as petty as jealousy.