The Thirteenth Trial(?) - The Tale of Iron
Who could have imagined the day would come when she herself took a full hit from the golden arrow? Adamantia—known by epithets like The Woman Who Cannot Be Conquered and The Iron Lady—was utterly dumbfounded.
She'd heard the tales herself: Apollo and a few other male gods panting after nymphs, taking a proper golden arrow to the heart, and ruining their lives in the process. Even Aphrodite, a goddess and Eros's own mother, had once been pricked by mistake and fallen for a mortal. That said it all.
But her? Adamantia felt profoundly wronged. They weren't even in anything resembling a proper relationship, and bam—arrow first.
"......Sorry, Goddess. I'll go cool my head."
"????"
"If I stick around here right now, I'll screw everything up. I'll cool off and come back. Sorry."
Adamantia had figured she was done for—Heracles would pounce, and they'd seal the deal as husband and wife. Thalassa and Tyrrhenus had never called her pretty, but here he was, eyes lighting up at her hideous(?) face and calling her beautiful. She had to admire that pure heart of his. She'd even pondered just going along with it if he made a move—grudgingly, sure, but what choice did she have?
For a goddess who hadn't had a single proper romance in seven thousand years, it was a monumental challenge. But what could she do? That was just common sense in Akhaia—the world.
And yet Heracles had actually meant to cool his head. He vanished beyond the side door leading to the stream.
"What the hell? Where does this even happen?"
A storm of indescribable, tangled emotions churned inside her.
Just as she'd told Heracles, she truly knew nothing.
Sure, a few male gods had courted her over the years, but she'd seen right through them—they were after her purity and power as a Protogenoi. Rejected on the spot. Attempts at Greek-style pure love couldn't even budge a blacksmith goddess stronger than Atlas himself; they were all repelled.
So Adamantia remained alone. No one would accept someone so ugly and strong.
She'd endured it all, tried to make peace with it. But sad was sad.
Unable to marry? That wasn't even treating her like a woman.
"They say you're pretty, and men just charge in without a second thought—courting, kidnapping, whatever!"
She was older than Thalassa. She knew the score.
Even Hades, the most upstanding male on Olympus, had conspired with Zeus to kidnap Kore—goddess of spring and new sprouts, Persephone's other name—without a word to Demeter. Apollo had taken one look at Daphne, decided he wanted her, and gone straight for rape; he'd botched it, sure, but the intent was infamous.
"Does this mean I'm ugly after all? Is that it? Am I pretty or not?!"
A quenching vat sat right there, close enough to check her bare face if she wanted. But she was too scared.
No one but her mother had ever called her pretty. Confronting the face she'd hidden for millennia took more courage than she'd imagined—especially since it was her own face.
"But it wasn't a lie. Not like with Hephaestus that day."
As the Protogenoi of Etna volcano—and goddess of fire and bellows—Adamantia was fortunate to possess lie-detection. At the very least, those words weren't an outright falsehood.
Her power had limits without true authority, though. She couldn't spot white lies or cases of "I didn't lie".
Full wisdom's domain would pierce those veils, but hers was only half-baked.
The thought sent a sudden chill through her.
"What if it was just the golden arrow making him spout nonsense? No, wait—that might actually be better?"
If it was the arrow fueling some boiling impulse, a lie born of that... the prick had come after, but given the arrow's viciousness, it might have already lit the fire beforehand. Who knew?
That would be easier for her, at least. The words would still ring true at their core.
"What do I do... Should I go see Mom? No, I'd have to leave the forge empty, and Heracles will be back."
Whether lie, arrow-induced sweet talk, or whatever—it had been a full year already. In Adamantia's millennia-long life, that ranked among the longest close contacts.
Hephaestus had lasted three years; the Cyclopes about the same. One year was huge. Typhon's stretch was over a millennium, but snake-heads didn't count.
"With that guy, I might actually be able to teach him iron smelting."
She'd taken Cyclopes and Hephaestus as apprentices, but once they mastered bronze after three years, they lost all interest in iron and bailed. Hephaestus had visibly tried to hang on a few extra months, but iron itself held no appeal.
Heracles was different. He had real hunger for it.
He'd even composed a song to match her hammering rhythm. I need to learn this beat too, he'd said.
Etna volcano was her body, just as adamant—forged from Mother Gaia's bones—was her flesh and blood. Adamantia was Protogenoi to both.
That was when she'd asked: Are you really going to become an iron smith?
His answer had been firm.
"It's something I must do, Goddess. I'll prove myself a proper iron smith, no matter what!"
Truth be told, it had been an embarrassing question for her. All iron was essentially her body; letting someone else handle it felt viscerally repulsive.
She taught her disciples diligently, but Tyrrhenus's jab—"It's not that you can't raise them; you just won't"—had left her mumbling threats partly because she had no real comeback.
"But working iron is so delicate!"
Her head swam with stray thoughts, and before she knew it, she was shouting to herself.
Nothing was as demanding or intricate as handling iron. Artisans touching it was like granting access to her own body.
As a master craftswoman, she could release that hold—but no ordinary smith deserved it.
It had nothing to do with shyness.
"Sigh... What am I even doing? Heracles isn't even here."
"Eh? Sis, break time over?"
"Typhon?"
Soon enough, Typhon—the forge's fire tender and resident snake-head—slithered in. He'd finished his break and was heading back to the bellows pit, but spotting her without her hammer and moping, he gave her a puzzled look.
Curiosity piqued, he rolled his long, slit snake eyes and prodded her.
"What happened? First time I've seen you slouched like this."
"Happened? I'll sit a bit longer and get back to work."
"Where's Heracles? Stuck to you like glue for over a month, and—huh??? What happened to your mask, sis?"
"......Heracles took it off."
"Oho, something went down. Sis, these things? Best to vent to someone. Wanna tell me?"
His serpentine eyes gleamed with sly intrigue, but Adamantia had no one else to confide in among the gods.
In the end, she spilled it all to Typhon: the sparks that had burned off her mask today, Heracles getting hit by the golden arrow and storming out in a heated frenzy.
His response was unexpected.
"Aha, I knew the reason right off."
"You knew? What is it?"
"Heracles might have a serious ugly fetish. Guy's bedded every woman in the world, right? Golden arrow on top. Enough to pique anyone's interest."
"I-Is that it?"
"Damn straight. No doubt."
Heracles with an ugly fetish? Absurd. But Typhon was confident—after all, to a snake-head like him, Adamantia was prime ugly.
"Still, he's a hero famous for his taste in delicate beauties. Ugly fetish seems... unlikely?"
"Sis, I've got twelve kids. Twelve. Way more expert than you—just listen."
"Uh... okay."
No arguing with that. Typhon pressed on with unnerving confidence and another surprise.
"Don't believe me? Send him to someone uglier than you."
"Uglier than me? Who?"
"......My ex-wife. Echidna."
"......Echidna doesn't seem ugly."
Echidna had a snake for a lower half, sure, but with her voluptuous figure and fiery red hair, she was a beauty. Objectively monstrous, maybe—but no ugo.
To snake-head Typhon, though? She was a walking disaster, far worse than his veiled sister.
"Nonsense. Embarrassing to even live with. Way uglier than you, no question."
"......So, send Heracles to Echidna?"
"He's a hero too, perfect. If something sparks between them, ugly fetish confirmed. Nothing happens? Arrow made him talk big."
"But... you okay with that?"
She'd borne him twelve kids, ex-wife or not. Willing to throw her at this?
To snake-head Typhon, Echidna was a wart he wanted gone yesterday.
"Pfft! Don't be ridiculous. The sooner that hag files for divorce, the better for my peace. If she tries clinging back, I'm diving into Tartarus."
"Got it. If you're really fine with it, I'll think about it."
And so the framework for testing Heracles with Echidna took shape. But lost in her worries, Adamantia had completely forgotten one thing.
Typhon was a snake-head...